#not sure if this needs any tags but happy to add them
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Season 2, Episode 3 - Blood Lust
Series Masterlist
Y/N's POV
The boys and I were driving down an empty road, the middle of the day in Deans newly refurbished car. Back in Black by AC/DC was blasting through her deck. Baby was fixed up to a mint, Quinn took some work but she's locked and loaded, ready to be ridden. But I decided to just tag along with the boys until I'm ready to ride my girl again, she needed a rest after what happened to her so I left her at Bobby's.
"Woo! Listen to her purr. You ever heard anything so sweet?" Dean exclaims excitedly, a large smile across his face. Me and Sam share an amused look in the rearview mirror. Chuckling, I lean forward between the boys from the backseat, "You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me and Sam know" I quip jokingly. "Seriously, Dean. It's weird" Sam chuckles.
"Awww, don't listen to her, baby. She's just jealous" Dean caresses his steering wheel, flashing me a sly wink. I scoff along with Sam, as we all share a laugh. My heart warms to see Dean so happy for once. "You're in a good mood" Sam points out a bit surprised. "Why shouldn't I be?" Dean asks curiously. Me and Sam shrug, "No reason" We say in unison.
"I got my car. We got a case. Things are looking up" Dean smirks widely, his tone filled with excitement. "Wow. Give you a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mr. Sunshine" I shoot jokingly. Dean laughs along with Sam at my statement, "How far to Red Lodge?" Dean asks. "Uh, about another 300 miles" Sam answers.
"Good" Dean smirks, his foot went heavier on the gas. Speeding up down the empty stretch. Me and Sam held on for dear life as he flies down the road.
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Red Lodge, Montana
Sam, Dean and I were now in Montana, posing as reporters to the police sheriff in order to collect data on the case. They were dressed in suits and ties while I was dressed in a baby blue floral blouse and a black above-the-knee pencil skirt. We sat in his office, across from him as we questioned. "The murder investigation is ongoing. That's all I can share with the press." The sheriff says to us.
"Sure, sure. We understand that. But just for the record. You found the first, uh, head last week correct?" Sam asks professionally, pretending to take notes on a pad. "Uh-huh" the sheriff responds. "Okay, and the other, a Christina Flanagan" Sam goes to ask but the sheriff cuts him off. "That was two days ago, is there any-" The sheriff is interrupted by a knocking at the door.
"Excuse me, sheriff" A young blonde woman knocks at his door, tapping the watch in her wrist. Indicating times up, "Alright." He nods at her. "Sorry, gentleman and lady. Times up. We're done here" The sheriff dismisses, ready to get up. "Wait, one last question" I try to stop him. "What about the cattle?" Dean quickly asks.
"Excuse me?" The sheriff cocks his eyebrow. "You know, the cows found dead...split open, drained, over a dozen cases" Dean further says, giving the sheriff and knowing look. "What about them?" The sheriff scoffs. "So you don't think there's a connection?" I add. He turns to me confused, "Connection with...?" He trails off. "First, cattle mutilations...now uh. Now two murders. Kind of sounds like ritual stuff" I say superstitiously.
"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff" Dean adds, shrugging a bit. The sheriff looks between all of us before bursting out laughing and pointing at us. We all roll our eyes at this, "You..." The sheriff laughs, it descends when he sees the serious looks on our faces. "You're not kidding" He says dryly. "No" Sam responds, shaking his head.
"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?" The sheriff asks firmly, clasping his hands infront of him. "How?" Dean asks. "Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilations. Cow drops, leave it in the sun...within 48 hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical" The sheriff explains with a sarcastic smile.
"The bodily fluids fall down into the ground, gets soaked up because that's what gravity does" He talks to us as if we were 5 year olds. "But, hey, it could be Satan" He says sarcastically. "What newspaper did you say you work for?" He asks us suspiciously. Dean clears his throat awkwardly, "World Weekly News" Dean answers unsure. "Weekly World News" I correct.
"World-" Dean stutters. "Weekly World" Sam corrects. "World- I'm new" Dean chuckles nervously. The sheriff narrows his eyes at us, "Get out of my office" He says firmly.
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Later that day, the boys and I headed over to the Candler County Hospital Morgue. We threw over some lab coats we found in a supply closet to blend in. I swung the door open to the morgue, a young man sat at a desk looked up at me. I flashed him a coy smile before looking down at his ID badge to see 'J.Manner' with his picture.
"John" I guessed his name. "Jeff" He corrected with a wide smile, getting up from his desk. "Jeff. I knew that" I chuckle flirtatiously. From the corner of my eye I see Dean cocked his eyebrow before rolling his eyes. "Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away" I say urgently, to Jeff to get him out. "But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation" Jeff says. I come up with the first lie I could think of and say,
"Well he's back and he's pissed. And he's screaming for you, man. So if I were you I would.." I say quickly, letting out a low whistle so he could skedaddle. Jeff did exactly that, a look of horror on his face. "Nice job, Princess" Dean snorts, giving me a wink. I scoff chuckling, "Thanks, charming" I chuckle as Sam closes the door behind him.
"Hey, those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?" Dean asks us, getting straight into work mode. "Yeah. Reverse pentacle on the forehead" Sam answers. "Huh, gross" I mutter cringing as Dean hands me a pair of latex gloves, along with Sam. "So much fucked up crap happens in Florida" Dean agrees as we snap on our gloves.
Sam opens the door to one of the body deal storage refrigerators, pulling out the tray with one of the victims body. The corpse was headless as expected and there was a large plastic container was at its feet, presumably it's head. "Alright, open it" Dean says to Sam. "No. You open it" Sam quips back defensively. I roll my eyes at this, "Jesus, you wussies. I'll open it" I groan, taking the container off the tray and resting it over on the table.
I could feel their glares at the back of my head, but I ignore it. "We're not wussies" Dean scoffs offended. "Whatever" I mutter. They come up besides me as I I take the lid off the reveal the mutilated head of a young girl, Dean flinches back in disgust as Sam grimaces. My heart gave out for her. "Well, no pentagram" Dean mutters. "Wow. Poor girl" Sam sighs heavily, I nod in agreement.
"Maybe we should, you know, uh, look in her mouth. See if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat." Dean suggests. "You know, kind of like the moth in Silence of the Lambs?" Dean pats me on the small of my back. I chuckle at his movie reference as Sam nods, "Yeah, yeah, go ahead" Sam agrees, pushing the container closer to Dean. He turns the container back to Sam, "No you go ahead".
Sam looks at him confused, "What?" Sam scoffs. "Put the lotion in the basket" Dean smiles smugly. I roll my eyes at them, "Oh for Christ's sake. And you have the gall to say you're not wussies" I huff, earning a snicker from Sam as Deans smile drops. I turn the container to me, taking a deep breath before clearing my throat.
Using my gloved fingers, I pry her cold mouth open. A chill running up my hands as I do so, my stomach began to churn as I stuck my fingers in her mouth searching. "Fellas, get me a bucket" I ask them quickly. Dean immediately gets the bucket near the mops and broom. "Find something?" Sam asks hopefully. "No, I'm gonna puke" I groan, gagging in disgust.
Sam gives me an unimpressed look, "Right, and we're the wussies" Dean snorts, resting the bucket next to me, a triumphant smirk on his face. "Would you like to stick your fingers in the dead girls mouth? No, I didn't think so!" I snap at him, his smirk dropped as I dug around in her mouth. I shook my head, taking my fingers out as they peered beside to me to take a look.
"Wait, lift her lip up again" Dean tells me. "What?" I scoff. "You want me to throw up" I groan, "No, no, no. I think I saw something" Dean defends, lifting her top lip up. "Yeah, I think I saw it too" Sam leans closer. My eyebrows shoot up to reveal what seemed like a hole in her gums. "What is that, a hole?" Dean questions, Sam then puts his finger behind it, pressing it slightly.
That's when a tooth came retracting and my stomach dropped. Vampire. "It's a tooth" Sam says. "Fellas, that's a fang" I point out, my mouth agape as Sam gasps. "A retractable set of vampire fangs. You gotta be kidding me" Dean groans, letting go of her mouth. "Well, this changes things" Sam mutters. "Ya think?" I quip sarcastically. The boys gave me a sympathetic look at my tone.
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The boys and I pulled up to a nearby bar later that night, we assumed it to be the vampires hang out spot in the area since it's near where the girl was killed. We all have each other a look before exiting Baby and heading towards the bar. Dean opened the door, gesturing for me to go in first all gentlemanly like. I flash him a sly wink before walking in, I'm pretty sure I felt his eyes on my ass so I added an extra sway to my hips.
Sam walked behind me into the crowed dark bar as Dean closed the door. We scoped our surroundings carefully, "How's it going?" Dean greets the bartender as we approach the bar, "Living the dream. What can I get for ya?" The bartender dryly responds. "Three beers please" Dean says, the three of us taking seats at the bar. Sam and Dean besides me, "So we're looking for some people."
Sam says to then bartender. "Sure. It's hard to be lonely" The bartender deadpans. Sam chuckles lightly along with me and Dean. "Yeah, that's not what he meant" I say in a coy tone, taking out a $50 bill I had stuffed in my bra. His eyebrows shoot up, along with Sam and Dean at my move as I slide it across to the bartender, he glances down at it intrigued before taking it up.
Sam clears his throat, "Great, so these people, they would've moved here about six months ago. Probably pretty rowdy, like to drink" Sam explains. "Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night" Dean adds, sipping his beer. I felt a weird sensation on my back, almost creepy. Almost as if someone was staring at me. I turnt my head to see an African-American man who was smoking a cigarette, his eyes trained straight at me and the boys.
"Barker Farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot. Drinkers. Noisy. I've had to eighty-six them once or twice" The bartender says. The man breaks his gaze with me when he realized I noticed him, I got a strange vibe from him but I ignored it. Probably just some creep. The boys and I share a look before turning back to him, "Thanks" I say kindly before we all finish our beers.
We rest out empty beer bottles down at the bar and begin to head out. I made sure to look back in the seat where the man who I caught staring at us was, now empty. Gone. His mug still half full, the half finished cigarette crushed in the ashtray. "Wait, fellas" I stop Sam from opening the door. "What's wrong, y/n/n?" Sam asks me concerned.
"There was a guy in the corner, over there. He was staring right at us when we questioned the bartender" I whisper to them in a low tone, nodding my head towards the table. Their eyes flicker to it and then back to me, "You think he's still outside?" Dean whispers back. "I don't know, let's walk down the alley and see if he follows us" I suggest. They both share a look before nodding.
Sam opened the door as me and Dean walked besides him. I still felt as though someone was watching so I scanned my surroundings to make sure but no one was there. They both gave me a look that said, 'Ready?'. I nodded in response as we made our way down the alley, my father's machete tucked up my sleeve of my leather jacket.
The boys walked besides me as usual, me in the middle as we strolled down, we heard footsteps padding towards us as we bent the corner around the bar. We all quickly hide away in a dark corner, where he was sure not to see us. The footsteps stopped, so the boys and I took that as a go. Jumping the man in a sneak attack.
Sam and Dean both grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, "Smile" I grit my teeth at him, pressing my fathers machete to his neck. "Show us those pearly whites" Dean growls at him, slamming him harder against the wall Sam's help. "Oh, for the love of-" The man groans. "You wanna stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire" The man tries to defend himself. We all still glare at him, not convinced.
"Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there" The man says smugly. "What do you know about vampires?" Sam growls. "How to kill them. Now seriously, sweetheart. That knifes making me itch" The man widens his eyes at me, I cock my eyebrows at him and tilt my head a bit. I give Sam a look and he slams the man harder into the wall, "Hey! Woah, easy there, Chachi" The man snarks at Sam before raising his hand up.
He lifts his upper lip to show us his gums. It didn't have a hole like the girls one in the morgue. "See? Fangless. Happy?" He grumbles. The boys and I share a look before slowly retracting. They let him go as I slowly draw my blade always from him. "Now, who the hell are you?" The man asks us.
We were now by Gordon's, the man who we almost decapitated, car. "Sam and Dean Winchester. And Y/N L/N." Gordon says excitedly, pulling out a side cabinet from his backseat with a load of blades. Sickles, machetes. You name it. "I can't believe it. I know I met your fathers once? Great guys, even greater hunters" Gordon says with a wide smile. "I heard they passed....I'm sorry" Gordon says apologetically.
"Not to pry. But is it true that a vampire killed F/N?" Gordon asks me. My eyes snap up to him, I just nod in response. "I'm sorry" He says genuinely. I just shrug at it. "That's big shoes. But from what I hear, you guys fill them. Great trackers. Good in a tight spot" Gordon says. I roll my eyes at his fake flattery.
We all give him a suspicious look. "You seem to know a lot about our families" I say in a dry tone. "Well word travels fast. You know how hunters talk" Gordon says causally. The boys and I share a look at this. "No, we don't actually" Dean says. "I guess there's a lot you dads never told you kids, huh?" Gordon says. "So, um. So those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Sam asks.
"Yep. Been here two weeks" Gordon responds nodding. "You check out that Barker farm?" Dean asks. "Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell on them" Gordon chuckles. "Where's the nest, then?" I ask. Gordon chuckles again, scoffing a bit before retracting the cabinet back into his car.
"I've got this one covered." He says, I roll my eyes at this. "Look, don't get me wrong, it's a real pleasure meeting you guys. But I've been on this thing for over a year" He tells us. "I killed a gang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way over here. I'll finish it" He assures us firmly. "We could help" Dean offers. "Thanks. But I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy" Gordon narrows his eyes at us.
"Come on, man. I've been itching for a hunt" Dean tries to reason. "And I would love to hand it to those bloodsucking killers" I add pervasively. I notice Sam give us a side look at this. Gordon shakes his head, "Sorry. But, hey. I hear there's a chupacabra two states over. Go ahead and knock yourselves out" Gordon offers before getting into his car.
He locks the door before telling us, "It was real good meeting you, though." He smiles at us. "I'll buy you a drink on the flip side" He smirks, flashing me a wink. I cringe in disgust at this, not interested whatsoever. He then starts his ignition before driving off. The boys and I share a look at this.
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We decided to trail Gordon's car, eventually ending up at an old mill. We watched as he got out and entered. We waited a couple minutes before the roaring sound of an electric saw filled our ears. We all bolt into action and jumped out of Baby, running towards the sound in a hurry. We're met with the sight of Gordon being held under the saw by his neck on a ledge by a man wearing a mechanic outfit.
Sam hurried up the ledge and pulled Gordon out of the way, the man turns and flashes his fangs at me and Dean. Dean grabs an old spear and swings at the man, headfirst. I drew my feet back in a swift motion and kneed the vampire in his stomach, sending him stumbling back into Gordon's previous position under the saw.
Dean raised the spear over his head before driving it through the vampires gut, earning an animalistic painful roar from him. My eyes flickered to the saw and a nasty idea came across my mind. Vengeance, hatred, grief swirled around my noggin. Without thinking, I grabbed the saw and pulled it down onto the vampires neck.
Decapitating him in a slow painful manner. His blood splattered across my grim face, while glaring at him, I clenched my jaw as the vampire roared again in anguish. His head was finally off clean and went tumbling back. I got this sick feeling in my stomach after killing him, it wasn't nausea, that's for sure. I thought I would've enjoyed it more.
I turnt to the men to see Sam with a look of disbelief on his face, a proud almost lustful smirk plastered on Dean's lips and a impress look on Gordon's, his mouth agape. "So I guess I gotta buy you that drink now" Gordon says impressed. I don't answer, my bloodied face stoic.
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We're all now back at the barber we're at earlier. Dean and Gordon were hankering down a pitcher of beer, celebrating. My cigarette tucked between my lips as me and Sam sat upright in our seats, our eyes narrowed in Gordon's direction. My stomach was still churning from killing that vampire. It didn't feel as good killing that vamp as much as I expected. I relished in killing Kate, the bitch who took my father too soon from me.
But this time didn't feel as good. Gordon didn't rub me the right way at all. Now I know what you're saying. 'You barely know the guy, Y/N. Give him a break.' But something about this guy is already getting on my nerves. Blame it on my ESP thing or whatever you want, something isn't right with him.
A waitress approaches our table and rests down four shots. "Here you go" She says kindly, Dean goes to dig in his pocket to pay for them but Gordon stops him. "No, no. I got it" He says, handing the waitress the money. "Come on" Dean cuts in. "I insist" Gordon says firmly, shaking his head. "Thank you, sweetie" He smiles at the waitress. "You're welcome" The waitress responds sweetly before walking off.
Gordon picks up his shot along with Dean, "Another one bites the dust" He smirks. "That's right" Dean smirks back before toasting, both downing the shots. "Y/N" Gordon says before chuckling. "You have that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, sweetie" Gordon smiles at me. I narrow my eyes further at him, simply nodding, crushing my burnt out bud in the ashtray in-front of us.
"Yeah, atta girl princess. You did good" Dean congratulates me, flashing me a wink. Normally I'd swoon at this but I wasn't in the mood at this time, it still made my heart flutter, his praising rising a heat in me. "Thanks" I responded softly. "That was beautiful, absolutely beautiful" Gordon continues to compliment. Both me and Sam scoff, rolling our eyes.
"You two alright? What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean asks us concerned, realizing we're on edge as he takes a sip of his beer. I make eye contact with Dean, trying to tell him with my eyes, 'I don't trust this guy'. But he doesn't pick up on it. "Yeah, we're fine" Sam answers for the both of us in a deadpan tone. "Well, lighten up a little, Sammy" Gordon tries to cheer him up.
My eyes widened slightly when Gordon called him Sammy. "They're the only ones that get to call me that" Sam retorts in a dry tone. Gordon's face drops, I notice Dean smirked proudly, "Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little." Gordon says awkwardly. I'm not gonna lie, I had to hold back a laugh at this. I felt special because normally whenever we call him Sammy, he always groans 'It's Sam' or rolls his eyes unimpressed.
"A job well done by Princess Y/N over here" Gordon smirks at me, flashing me a sly wink. My nostrils flare, my eyes twitching at this. I couldn't help but notice Deans grip tightened around his beer mug. "Don't you dare call me that" I growl at him. "Woah, woah" Gordon puts his hands up in surrender chuckling, Deans eyes snap over to him in fury.
His eyes flickered between me and Dean before his mouth formed the shape of an 'O'. "Sorry, man" Gordon chuckles, patting Dean on his knee. "Didn't mean to disrespect you or your girl" He grins widely. Deans anger seemed to diminish, his eyebrow cocked. Normally, I'd feel pleasant or have butterflies in my stomach when someone mistakes me for Deans girlfriend.
But coming from this jackass, my eye twitched. My fists clenched in my lap, the table began to shake slightly. Causing Gordon to look confused and stunned. "What the fuck?" Gordon muttered, trying to not make all the beers fall over. Sam and Deans eyes snapped over to me in fear when this began to happen. "Hey, hey" Dean whispers to me, resting a hand on my thigh.
"Relax" He says calmly, caressing my thigh gently, a pleading look in his eyes. My stomach fluttered, my eyes snapping back over to Deans. My heart rate quickened, my anger slightly diminishing. The table then settled, the shaking stopping in an instant. "How the hell did you do that?" Gordon gasps, his eyes wide. Dean chuckles nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about" I shrug innocently, narrowing my eyes at him.
Gordon cocked his eyebrow at me, unconvinced. The whole time this was happening, Sam looked like he was holding back the biggest laugh. A wide smirk on his face. "Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel, you coming Sammy?" I turn to Sam. "Yeah, let's go" Sam says, getting up from the chair along with me.
Dean sighs disappointed, "You guys sure?" He asks, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Yeah" I respond simply, following behind Sam. "Sammy, y/n/n." Dean calls out to us. We turn to see him shaking the keys to the Impala at us. "Remind me to beat the buzzkill out of you two later, alright?" Dean quipped, tossing me the keys. I quickly catch it, scoffing at the fact that he'd rather stay here and get shit faced with Gordon.
Sam gives Dean his classic bitchface as we walk out towards the exit. Sam then opens the door, gesturing for me to go first. A mischievous thought crossed my mind. "Wait" I stop Sam. "What?" He asks me confused, his hand still holding the door open. A smirk rises on my face, his eyebrows raised at my expression and then I focused my gaze on Gordon's beer mug in his hands.
In mere seconds, it suddenly slipped from Gordon's grip and spontaneously combusted mid air. The glass scattered across the floor along with the beer. "Shit! Ahhh!" Gordon yelps, getting up quickly. "How the hell did I drop it?! Waitress!" He exclaims, calling the waitress over to clean the mess up. Sam bursted out in hysterics, causing Deans eyes snap over to us.
His face dropped, shooting me an unimpressed look, shaking his head in disappointment. I smirk back at him, shrugging nonchalantly, "Now, we can go" I say to Sam smugly, who's biting his fist from laughing. I strut out the door, adding a sway to my hips. Sam followed behind me, still laughing as we exit. Closing the door behind us. Sam hunched over, his hands on his knees. "Dude, you gotta teach me that" Sam exclaims in hysterics.
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We entered the motel room, bad mouthing Gordon. "He's a snake I tell ya, something isn't right about that guy" Sam rambles as we strip our jackets off. "That's exactly how I felt! I mean; who the fuck does he think he is? Calling you 'Sammy' and me 'princess' " I agree, huffing as rest Deans keys gently on the table next to my machete. I grew a bit silent, my mind flickering back to the vamp as I sink on my bed.
Sam notices this, so he asks, "You okay?" He asks concerned, sitting next to me on my bed. "I don't know" I sigh, leaning back on the headboard. I cross my arms over my chest, relaxing a bit as I throw my feet up on his lap. "When we found out that that dead girl was a vampire. My dad came rushing back to my mind. And I was partially excited to kill some bloodsuckers." I admit.
Sam gives me a sympathetic look, "But then when I killed that guy. It didn't feel right, you know? I expected it to feel more satisfaction that I took away one more monster like I usually do whenever we gank em. But it felt....off" I sigh, shaking my head. A lump growing in my throat, "Hey" Sam says gently, resting his hands on my shins. My eyes meet his, tears ready to fall as my bite my lip.
"You did what you had to do. I might not like the guy, but he was gonna kill Gordon. And he might have killed us." Sam assures me, offering me a small smile. "F/N would've been proud" Sam says softly. I scoff back a chuckle, wiping the tear away from my eye before wiping my nose. "Have you met the man?" I ask sarcastically, chuckling. Sam chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.
"He would've found someway to complain about what I did wrong, probably would've told me I should've burnt the corpse too, just in case" I chuckle, shaking my head. "You got me there" Sam admits, chuckling along with me. He pats my shin, indicating for me to take my feet off his lap. I do exactly that, he then gets up and goes over to his bag. "What're you doing?" I ask curiously.
"Calling Ellen to find out about this Gordon guy" He responds, taking out his phone. He searches for Ellen's contact, sinking back next to me in the bed. He puts it on speaker and it rings a couple times, "Harvelle's Roadhouse" Ellen answers. "Hey, Ellen. It's Sam Winchester and Y/N L/N" Sam responds. "Sam, Y/N. It's good to hear from you" Ellen says happily. "You kids okay, right?" She asks us concerned.
"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine" I assure her. "We got a question though" I add. "Yeah, shoot" She says. "You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?" Sam asks. "Yeah, I know Gordon" She confirms. "And?" I ask for her to further continue. "Well, he's a real good hunter. Why you asking, sweetie?" She asks. "Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kind of working with him, I guess" Sam informs her.
"Don't do that guys" Ellen quickly warns us. Sam and I share a panicked look at this. "I- I thought you said he was a good hunter" I stutter. "Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist." Ellen mutters. "Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job, you kids just let him handle it and move on" She instructs us firmly. "Ellen-" Sam goes to say but she interrupts him.
"No, Sam, Y/N. You two just listen to what I'm telling you, okay?" She says firmly. Sam and I can't believe what we're hearing, we were right. "Yes ma'am" We both respond in unison, "Good, you kids stay safe okay?" She says in a mother tone. "We will. Thanks Ellen" I finish before Sam hangs us, scoffing as he tossed his phone aside. "I can't believe it. We were right" Sam shakes his head.
"We gotta call Dean" He goes to pick his phone back up to call him. "He won't answer, he never does when he's drinking. Unless it's him drunk dialing" I say, taking the phone away from him. He sighs, nodding in agreement at the fact. "When he gets back then, he needs to know" Sam says, getting up from the bed. "I'm gonna get a soda, want anything?" He asks me, walking over to the door.
"Yeah, a coke and if there's a vending machine. Get me some chips" I nod, reaching into my pocket to give him the money. Sam chuckles, waving it off, "I got it, coke and chips" He repeats my order, before opening the door to head out. "Thank you!" I call out as he locks the door. I sigh heavily, plopping back onto the bed.
A few minutes have passed and I was getting bored with my thoughts, so I decided to take a shower. I pick up my towel and toss it over my shoulder, headed to the bathroom. My ears perked up when the door opened, footsteps echoed through the room. Sam might be a giant, but I know damn well he doesn't have four feet. Luckily, I had my gun still in my jeans.
Thank you dad for always pestering me to be prepared even when in the bathroom. I pulled my gun from the back of my jeans swiftly before pressing my back against the wall. I heard a sniff come from the room, "I can smell her, she's in here" A familiar voice said, but I couldn't pinpoint who. Vampires. Fuck, I left my machete on the table. Great. I clenched my jaw before revealing myself, "Hey blood breaths!" I bellowed, shooting at them.
It barely grazed them, they grunted. Now bearing their fangs at me. I recognized one of the guys, he was the bartender we questioned earlier. I tossed my gun aside as my eyes nervously flickered to the machete on the table, with a wave of my hand. I summoned into my grip, I swiftly swung at the first guy but missed, he raised his foot and kneed me in my stomach.
I groaned painfully, gasping for air when the vampire shoved me into the wall. I went flying back and the machete slipped from my grip. He then picked up a phone to knock me out but I ducked, he ended up going headfirst into the wall. I swiftly dived to the ground for my machete, the bartender from earlier grabbed me by my feet, but I pulled back and kicked him off, causing him to stumble into the table.
With another wave of my hand, I sent the other man crashing into the nightstand. I swiftly did a kipup, charging at the bartender. He dodged my swing quickly. I didn't notice I had my gun in his hands, the last thing I saw was the butt of my gun going straight at my head before everything went dark.
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I groaned from pain in my head when my eyes flickered open. Everything was dark, I could feel my hands were bounded behind my back and something was over my head. Definitely a bag. "I swear, if anything happened to my little sister. I'm gonna kill you!" I hear a familiar voice growl angrily. His tone pained. It was Sam. "You're barely a couple months older than me dude" I mutter, my head still pounding from the gun butt.
Then suddenly. Someone pulled the bag off, my vision was still a bit blurry but when it readjusted, I opened my eyes to see the bartender who attacked me earlier in the motel room. "Oh thank god, I thought you were gone" Sam breathes out in relief. "I'm fine, just a little tied up" I respond dryly, moving my bounded hands behind my back slightly.
"Shut up. Both of you!" The bartender growls at us, bearing his fangs in our direction. Our eyes widen in horror at this as he snarls, inching closer to my neck. My heartbeat quickens in fear, but I keep my game face on because these suckers could smell fear. "No!" Sam screams. "Wait. Step back, Eli." A woman's voice orders the bartender to not sink his fangs into me.
He glares at her where she's stood in the doorway before backing away from me, retracting his fangs. His angry deathly gaze trained on me, "My names Lenore. I'm not gonna hurt you guys. We just need to talk" The woman steps in, introducing herself. Me and Sam scoff, "Talk? Yeah, okay. But I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli's teeth" I snarked at her, my eyes flickering over to him and back to Lenore.
"He won't hurt you. You have my word" She assures me calmly. "Your word? Oh, yeah, great. Thanks" Sam huffs, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Listen lady. No offense, but you're not the first vampire we've met" Sam retorts with sass. "We're not like the others. We don't kill humans. And we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time" She explains calmly. "What is this? Some kind of joke?" I scoff, rolling my eyes.
"Notice you're both still alive." She points out. Me and Sam share a look at this, our eyes flickering over to Eli and back to Lenore. Sam chuckles ironically, "Okay, correct me if I'm wrong here, but shouldn't you be starving to death?" Sam counters. "We found other ways: cattle blood" Lenore tells us. This surprises us, "You're telling me, you're responsible for all the-" I say but she interrupts me,
"It's not ideal. In fact, it's disgusting. But allows us to get by." Lenore says. "Okay, why?" Sam asks. "Survival." She simply puts it before crossing her arms over her chest. "No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you guys to come looking for people like us...we blend in" She continues to explain. That's not what I expected from a bloodsucker whatsoever.
"Our kind is practically extinct. Turns out we weren't quite high up the food chain as we imagined" She says calmly. This triggers a switch in me, my mind flashing back to my father. "Great, no need for any of you parasitic leeches running around killing innocent people, now would we?!" I growl at her, tugging at my bindings. I notice Sams face drop at my outburst, while Lenore's is taken back by my anger, a look on recognition on her face.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you lost someone dear to you by one of our kind, havent you?" She calls me out, I just narrow my eyes at her. My jaw clenching, "Not all of us are like that, we just want to survive" She assured me, a sympathetic look on her face. "Why are we explaining ourselves to this killer?" Eli spits angrily at me, cutting into the conversation. "Eli" Lenore says in a warning tone.
"We choke on cows blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight, they murdered Conrad and they celebrated" Eli growls in disgust, sounding grief stricken. "Eli, that's enough" Lenore snaps. "Yeah, Eli. That's enough" Sam sasses, "What's done is done" Lenore says to Eli calmly, before turning to us.
"We're leaving this town, tonight" She reveals to us. "Then why did you bring us here? Why are you even talking to us?" I quipped. "Believe me, I'd rather not" She scoffs honestly. "But I know your kind. Once you have the scent, you'll keep tracking us. It doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us" She says calmly, realization dawns on me. "So you're asking us not to follow you" Sam voices my thought.
"We have a right to live. We're not hurting anyone" She responds. "Right, so you keep saying. But give us one good reason why we should believe you" I scoff. Lenore then leans down, both hands on the sides of the chair I'm tied to. Her face inches away from mines, i hull fearfully, not daring to look her in her eyes. "Fine. You know what I'm going to do?" She says menacingly.
I don't answer, my jaw clenched, "I'm going to let you two go" This surprises both me and Sam. We share a stunned look, "Take them back. Not a mark on them" Lenore orders Eli. He smirks, inching towards us. Before placing a bag on Sam's head and then mines. I feel him grab me by the shoulder and begin to walk us out. I count the steps in my head as we walk,
I hear a door open before another set of hands grab me. A couple more steps and then a car door opens, the person tosses me in along with Sam. The bag stayed on as the ignition started. I began to count the second of the ride, making sure to take in mind every turn, left and right. Not too long after the ride, they untie us.
Tossing us out the car. We both hit the cold gravely ground in a thud. We pull the bags off of our heads to see we're back at our motel. I try to get the make and model of the car but I didn't get to see it in time. "What the fuck just happened" I mutter to myself, Sam then helps me up. "I have no fucking idea. Let's go" He responds as we dust ourselves off and make our way to our room.
We open the door to see Dean with Gordon at the desk. Deans eyes widen when he sees us, "Where have you two been?" He asks. "Can we talk to you alone?" Sam asks him in a monotone voice as I glare daggers at Gordon. Dean then turns to Gordon, "You mind chilling out for a couple minutes?" He asks Gordon. Gordon shakes his head and we all make our way out our motel room.
I lock the door behind me as Sam starts. "Dean, maybe we gotta rethink this hunt" Sam says to him. "What're you talking about? Where were you two?" Dean asks us confused. I sigh, "In the nest" I tell him. His eyes widen, "You guys found it?" He says in shock. "They found us, man" Sam tells him. "Wha- How'd you guys get out? How many did you kill?" Dean asks us.
"None" I tell him. Dean is in disbelief. "Well, guys. They didn't just let you go" Dean says. "That's exactly what they did, Dean" I stress. "Alright, well, where is it?" Dean asks a little too eager. "We were blindfolded. We don't know" Sam says calmly, giving him a weird look. "Well, you gotta know something" Dean presses. "We went over that bridge outside of town. But, Dean, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them" I tell him.
"Why not?" Dean cocks his eyebrow confused. "We don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people" Sam tries to explain to him. "You're joking" Dean scoffs, not convinced. He looks between me and Sam, now realizing we aren't joking. "Then how do they stay alive or undead, whatever the hell they are?" Dean queries. "The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood" I tell him.
"And you guys believed them?" Dean asks a bit amused, probably thinking we're being naive. "Look at us, Dean" Sam gestures between me and him, letting out a nervous chuckle. "They let us go without a scratch" Sam points out. "Wait, so you guys are saying...? No man. No way. I don't know why they let you guys go. I don't really care. We find them and waste them" Dean shakes his head. Determined to kill them before walking away.
"Why?" I call out to him. He then turns to me, "What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, y/n? If it's supernatural, we kill it. End of story. That's our job" Dean says firmly. "No, Dean. That is not our job! Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!" Sam defends. "Of course they're killing people. That's what they do, they're all the same thing guys. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them." Dean argues.
I rub my head in frustration, "No, Dean. I don't think so, alright? Not this time" I try to remain calm. "Gordon's been on those vamps for a year. He knows" Dean says. "Gordon?" Sam scoffs. "Yes" Dean answers. "You're taking his word for it?" I scoff. "Yes" He answers again. "Ellen says he's bad news" Sam tells him. Dean raises his eyebrow at this, "You guys called Ellen?" He asks.
"Yeah" Me and Sam respond in unison. "And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her. No, thanks. I'll go with Gordon" Dean rolls his eyes. "Right! Because Gordon's such an old friend" I snap back sarcastically, chuckling humorlessly. Dean looks offended by my words, "You know, y/n. I expected more from you" He scoffs disappointed before walking away again. I'm confused by this, "What's that supposed to mean?!" I call out to him.
He turns to me, "Nothing. Okay." He shrugs it off but I press. "No, talk your shit Winchester. Since you're so trusting of Gordon." I snap back, sarcasm seeping through my tone, crossing my arms over my chest as I wait for his response. He shakes his head, "You killed that vampire, no hesitation. What's wrong now?!" Dean argues. "I was saving our asses from getting killed! Just because I killed that vampire doesn't mean I trust Gordon!" I argue back.
Third Person POV
The argument between Dean and Y/N was getting heated, Sam looked on. His eyes flickered between the both of them nervously as their voice escalated, echoing through the empty motel parking lot. Feeling like a child of divorce, looking at his parents fighting for custody.
"For someone who went through what you went through, I'd expect you to hate vampires more!" Dean shouts.
"I do hate them. Trust me, I do but they're not killing anyone, Dean! I'm not gonna kill innocent people!" Y/N retorts back defensively.
"They're not innocent, Y/N!" Dean yells.
"So you trust you old friend Gordon but not us?! Your brother and your longest friend?! Why can't you just take our word for it?!" Y/N shouts back, frustrated at the fact that Dean was trusting Gordon more than her and Sam.
"Because you're being stupid!?" Dean retorts.
"Excuse me?!" She scoffs in offense, shouting enraged.
"A vampire killed your father and you're willing to leave a pack of bloodsucking monsters to run free because they claim to live in peace! He'd be disappointed in you, it's an insult to his memory!!!" Dean bellows.
The second he said that, he regretted it instantly. Y/N is taken back by this, her mouth snapped shut at Deans words. While Sam is agape in disbelief at the harsh words that left his brothers mouth. That was the last thing Y/N expected to leave his mouth. Her heart panged painfully, already feeling like she disappointed her father and now Dean had to go and confirm it.
Had it been anyone else, it wouldn't have bothered her as much. But coming from the man she loved, it stung like a son of a bitch.nA bubble of humorless laughter left her throat, the anger rising in her body. "Okay" She says calmly, before turning away. Y/N drew back her fist before right hooking Dean across his jaw. Deans head snaps to the side, grunting in pain, surprised from the punch.
Not expecting there to be such a kick from that. Dean might be Sam's brother but he was internally cheering on Y/N for punching his brother, he damn well deserved it from what he just said. And honestly, if y/n didn't do it. He would've done it for her. "Fuck you, you don't get to say that!" She growls at him enraged. Her nostrils flared with hot steam practically rushing out of it.
Dean nurses his jaw, his eyes wide when he notices Y/N's eyes glassed over to a ball of white. The only time he's seen this was when f/n died, and in the hospital when she saw him but he had no memory of it. Then with a wave of her hand., She sends him barreling back into the Impala next to them. "Woah! Easy!" Sam tries to hold her down, he clutched onto her but Dean was still pinned to the car.
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!" She screams at him, she loosens her mind grip on him as Sam holds her, trying to calm her down. Her eyes went back to her normal (e/c) ones. Dean peels himself from the car, "You can hit me all you want, princess. Toss me in the air or flatten me like a pancake. It won't change anything. I'm going to that nest." Dean says in a deadpan tone.
He knew what he said was crossing a line because Y/N would not only, never say something about like that John to him, despite not liking the man. Instead, she'd console him and comfort him. But being grief stricken himself, he allowed his anger to get the best of him. Hurting the woman he loved,
"We won't tell you where it is" Sam takes Y/N's defense. "I'll find it myself" Dean snaps back. He then gives y/n one last look, she didn't dare to look at him. Not allowing her eyes to meet his, his heart dropped. Scared that she'd never look at him the same, y/n's eyes were glued to the floor. Trying to take deeps breathes instead of letting her anger getting the best of her. She didn't want to hurt anyone, especially the boys.
Her newfound powers were getting the best of her, she barely knew how to control it and it only came in times of desperate need and anger. She was scared, scared of herself, scared she'd hurt someone else. Someone she cared about. Dean turns to walk back to the motel room.
"Dean, wait" Sam calls out to his brother. Following behind him. Y/N then follows behind Sam. Dean opens the door to see it empty, "Gordon?" He calls out for it but no answer. "You think he went after them?" Sam asks. "Probably" Dean answers. "Dean, we have to stop him" Y/N says panicked. "Really, Y/N? Because I say we lend a hand" Dean scoffs.
"Just give us the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that" Y/N pleads. Deans heart pangs, guilt rising again. She didn't take long to use that one against him but he deserved it. He nods firmly, "I'll drive, give me the keys" He says to her calmly. Y/N goes to pick up the keys where she left them on the desk, when they came back from the bar. Only to see it now gone. "He snaked the keys" Sam gasps.
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"I can't believe this. I just fixed her up too" Dean grumbles in annoyance as he hotwires the Impala. The engine spluttered for a couple seconds before starting. Dean sighs, looking over to Y/N next to him in the passenger seat, her eyes were trained on a map along with Sam in the back with his own map.
Dean clears his throat awkwardly, "So, the bridge. Is that all you got?" He asks her gently. "The bridge was for and a half minutes from their farm." Y/N responds dryly, tracing her finger on the map. "How do you know?" Sam asks surprised. "I counted" She says, turning to Sam and then back to the map.
"Damn, should've thought of that" Sam grumbles to himself for not thinking in the moment. While Dean gives her a proud smile which she didn't acknowledge, his smile dropped as she continued. "They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road. Follow that for two minutes, slightly uphill. Then took another quick right and we hit the bridge" She explains, her finger tracing the trail on the map.
"Impressive" Sam chuckles, impressed by her tracking skills. "You're good." Dean commends her. "A monster pain in the ass....but you're good...with a mean right hook" He adds, smirking at her before putting the Impala in drive. Y/N scoffs, rolling her eyes as she held back a chuckle. Sam shakes his head at their version of saying 'I'm sorry'. At least they made up and aren't gonna fight, Sam did not want to get caught in the middle of that.
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The car was filled with awkward silences as they made out way down the stretch, headed towards the bridge. Dean would look at y/n with a pained expression when she wasn't looking, and she'd do the same when his eyes were on the road. Sam speculating the entire time, his lips tucked into his mouth as he looks between the two, praying for the awkwardness to subside.
After following Y/N's directions, they stumbled onto a house. Parked outside was the same car that Sam and Y/N was transported in back to the motel. Y/N didn't recognize it but Sam made sure to get a good look at it. "Look, that's the car they tossed us out of. This has to be the house" Sam points out. Dean then puts the car in park and they all jump out.
They made their way up the porch to see the door was wide open, they all shared a look at this before walking in. They entered the living room, stumbling upon Gordon and Lenore. Lenore was tied to a chair, blood dripping from open wounds as Gordon wielded his knife dripping with Dead Man's Blood, torturing Lenore. Gordon turned his head to the trio.
Sam and Y/N's eyes widen in terror at the sight. "Sam, Dean, Y/N. Come on in" Gordon greets them. "Hey, Gordon, what's going on?" Dean asks warily. "Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's gonna tell us where all her friends are" Gordon responds as if what he's doing is casual. "Aren't you sweetie?" Gordon smirks at Lenore menacingly, who's choking on her own blood. Heaving from the poison.
Sam and Y/N clench their jaws, "Wanna help?" Gordon turns to Dean. "Look, man-" Dean begins a bit nervous. "Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers" Gordon days before slicing Lenore's wrist with the bloodied knife. Her arm seared from the poison, making her grow weaker. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, let's all chill out, huh?" Dean tries to ease the situation. "I'm completely chill" Gordon says calmly.
"Gordon, put the knife down" Sam says warily, taking a step forward but Dean and Y/N out their hands out to stop him. "It sounds like it's Sammy that needs to chill" Gordon smirks. "Just step away from her, alright?" Y/N tries to reason. Gordon turns back to Lenore who's choking weakly, and back to them. "You're right" He says to Y/N before dropping his knife on the table.
"I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk" He says grimly, before taking up his machete, pulling the cover off of it. "Might as well put her out of her misery. I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane" He snarks at Sam and Y/N. "Gordon, I'm letting her go" Y/N says before taking a step forwards to help Lenore.
Gordon holts her in her actions by pressing the knife to her chest, "You're not doing a damn thing" He growls. Deans heart drops, Sam tries to reach out for Y/N but, "You take one step closer, I'll slice the bitch" Gordon threatens. Y/N puts her hands up in surrender, "Hey, hey, hey. Gordon, let's talk about this" Dean tries to get Gordon to take the knife off of her. "What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of grey" Gordon retorts.
"Yeah, I hear you. And I know how you feel" Dean responds. "Do you?" Gordon cocks his eyebrow, his machete still pointed at Y/N's chest. "The vampire that killed your sister deserved to die. But this-" Dean tries to resin but Gordon chuckles darkly, cutting him off. "Killed my sister?" Gordon smiles darkly. "That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. Made her one of them. So I hunted her down and killed her myself" Gordon reveals, his knife still against Y/N's chest.
They're all taken back by this, "You did what?" Dean mutters. "It wasn't my sister anymore. It wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you" Gordon points the blade to himself, then to Dean and back to Y/N. "So you knew all along then? You knew about the vampires. You knew they werent killing anyone" Sam says in realization. "You knew about the cattle, and you just didn't care" Y/N scoffs.
"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking into innocent people and we're supposed to buy that?" Gordon chuckles. "Trust me. It doesn't change what they are" Gordon points at himself with the machete before turning to Lenore with a hate-filled gaze. "And I can prove it" He turns back to Y/N. He grabs her wrist in a flash, slicing it. Before gripping her in a chokehold.
Sam and Dean don't think. They just act, pulling their guns out and cocking it at Gordon. "Let her go!" Dean growls at him, enraged. "Now!" Sam yells. Y/N tries to break from it but he's too strong. "Relax. If I wanted to kill your bitch, she'd be on the floor already. Just making a little point." Gordon says calmly, his machete pressed to Y/N's throat as he held her arm dripping with blood out.
He then moved her closer to Lenore, holding her arm over the convulsing vampire's face. The blood then dripped from her arm and onto her face. Lenore bared her fangs, snarling for more, "You think she's so different now?" Gordon snarks at the Winchesters. "Hey!" Dean yells, "Still wanna save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, blood thirsty." Gordon says menacingly.
Lenore retracted her face, "No, no." She says pleadingly. "You hear her Gordon?" Sam motions towards Lenore. "No, no" Lenore groans, trying to control herself. Gordon's grip loosens on Y/N, allowing her free. "We're done here" Y/N growls at him, "Sam, Y/N. Get her out of her" Dean orders the two younger hunters. "Yeah" They respond in unison.
They both help Lenore to her feet, wrapping each of her arm around both their shoulders. "Come on, hun. We've got you" Y/N says gently as they help her limp out of the room. Gordon goes to move but Dean still at his gun cocked at him. "Uh-uh. Uh-uh" He warns him to stay put. Gordon holts in action, putting his hands up in surrender.
"Gordon...I think you and I got some things to talk about" Dean says to him dryly. "Get out of my way" Gordon says. "Sorry" Dean smirks. "You're not serious" Gordon scoffs. "I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you gotta go through me" Dean warns. Gordon takes a look at his knife before sticking it into the table besides him.
"Fine" He shrugs nonchalantly. Deans smirk widens, he then uncocks his hun before disarming the click into his hand. Stuffing it into his pocket. Gordon takes the opportunity to right hook Dean, who stumbled back but quickly recovered. Retaliating with his own right hook. Gordon then pulled his knife out from the table making Dean groan.
He tried stabbing Dean twice but he dodges before grabbing Gordon by his arm and throwing him into the wall. The knife was still in his hand so he head butted him twice, knocking his hand against the wall to disarm him off his knife. "What're you doing man? You're doing this for a fang?" Gordon groans as Dean held him by his throat.
"No. I'm doing this for my girl who's throat you held a knife to!" Dean growls back, right hooking him again. Gordon turned to Deans back was faced to the doorway. "Come on, Dean. We're in the same side here" Gordon pleads. "I don't think so you, sadistic bastard" Dean snaps back. Gordon quickly blindsided him, elbowing him before kicking Dean into a wooden table.
It crashed in impact, Dean shakes his head. Dazzled from the fall as he groans in pain. Gordon inches closer to Dean, "You're not like your brother. You're a killer like me and y/n." Gordon says. Dean quickly trips him but knocking him at the back of his knee. He then straddles Gordon, throwing punch after punch at his facts.
"Keep...Her..God...Damn...Name...Out...Off...Your...Fucking...Mouth!!!" Dean screams, punching Gordon with every word that left his mouth. He then grabs him by his shirt and throws him into a glass cabinet. Turning him around and then tossing him against the wall. Gordon tries to hit but he's too weak, Dean quickly grabs his arm. Putting it down.
Right hooking him again twice before holding Gordon under his arm as if he's gonna hit him a reverse DDT wrestling move, he drags him into the other room before 'accidentally' walking into the wall. Sending Gordon's headfirst into it, earning a groan from him. "Oh, sorry" Dean feigns a sarcastic apology.
He then places him on a chair and begins tying him to it. "You know. I might be like you...and I might not. Y/N is certainly nothing like your as" Dean tells him before leaning to whisper in his ear. "But you're the one tied up right now" He smirks, as Gordon glares at him.
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The sun has risen and Gordon is still tied to the chair as Dean paces the room Gordons knife. The front door opens and shuts, Y/N and Sam walk into the room to see Gordon tied up. Their eyebrows raised, "Did we miss anything?" Sam asks. "Eh, not much" Dean shrugs. "Lenore get out okay?" Dean asks them. "Yeah. All of them did" Y/N answers, glaring at Gordon.
"Then I guess our work here is done" Dean smirks at Gordon. "How you doing Gordy? You gotta tinkle yet?" Y/N taunts Gordon, earning chuckles from the boys. Gordon rolls his eyes not answering. "Alright" She snorts. "Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you" Dean further taunts, walking over to the table. Sticking the knife into the wooden table.
"Ready to go, Dean?" Sam asks. "Not yet" Dean says, walking over to them. "I guess this is goodbye" Dean chuckles, fixing his hair. "Well, it's been real" He smirks, drawing his fist back before punching Gordon so hard. He chair went toppling back along with him to the ground. Sam grimaces holding back a laugh along with Y/N. "Okay, I'm good now" Dean clears his throat.
"We can go" He says simply before walking out. Sam and Y/N share an amused look before leaving the house. As they walk down the porch, Y/N turns to Dean. "Hey, Dean?" She says. "Yeah?" He answers. She preps herself, taking a deep breath. "Clock me one" She clears her throat. The boys look at her in disbelief.
"What?" Dean scoffs, "Come on, come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go" She screws her eyes shut. Dean scoffs a chuckle as Sam shakes his head, snickering. Deciding to leave them be as he walks back to the Impala. "No. Im not gonna hit you, Princess. I'll never hit you" Dean shakes his head. She peeps one eye open, "Come on, you wuss. Put the your morals aside for a sec. And that's coming from a raging feminist. You get a freebie. Hit me. Come on" Y/N tempts him.
"No, y/n." Dean says firmly. "If I'm being honest, I deserved it" Dean admits, rubbing his jaw. Y/N sighs, "So did I" She admits. "What?" He's taken back. "You were right, dad would've been disappointed in me. Hell, I'm sure he's probably rolling in his grave right now" She bites her lips. "Are you kidding me?" Dean scoffs. "Y/N, you and Sam just saved innocent people. Sure, they were vampires. But you did the right thing. He would've been proud" Dean assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.
Her eyes flicker up to to his, "You don't know that" She holds back her tears. "I'm so sorry, princess. I should've never said that." Dean apologizes sincerely. She nods, accepting his apology. "I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up" She scoffs. "What do you mean?" Dean asks her, taking his hand off her shoulder. She takes a deep breath, "Think about all the hunts we went on, charming. Our whole lives" She begins. "Okay?" Dean says.
"What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing, you know? I mean, the way our dads raised us-" She sighs. "Y/N, after what happened to mom and then your mom....they did their best" Dean tried to reassure her. "I know they did. But they weren't prefect" Y/N says. Dean shrugs in agreement, "But the way they raised us to hate those things. And man I HATE them. I do, I miss daddy every single fucking day" She grits her teeth.
"When I killed that vampire at the mill. I didn't even think about it. I expected to enjoy it. I did for a moment but not the way I wanted to." She admits. "I just- I don't know how we do it" Y/N sighs. "Because it's in our blood. Every instinct told me to kill, Lenore. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill them all" Dean admits. "Yeah, but you didn't" Y/N points out. "That matters." She adds.
Dean gives her a soft smile, "Truce?" Y/N puts her hand out for a shake, "Truce" Dean smirks, taking her hand into his. Their eyes meet and in a flash Dean pulls her by her arm into a hug. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Y/N chuckles into the hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You really are a pain in the ass, you know?" Dean jokes, his face buried in her neck.
"Guess I might have to stick around and be a pain in the ass, then" She quipped back, pulling away from the hug. His arms still around her waist while her arms are still around his shoulders. Her eyes flicker down to his lips, along with his eyes flickering down to her.
Meanwhile, Sam was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, watching the two as if they were a chick flick he was indulged it. "Just lean in, man. It's not that hard. Come on" Sam mutters to himself as the twos eyes pierced into each others. He rolled his eyes when he saw Y/N took her hands off of Deans shoulder and awkwardly cleared her throat along with Dean, who's face was flushed. "Wussies" Sam scoffs.
They then begin to walk back to the Impala, "Thanks" Dean genuinely thanks her as she opens the back door. "Don't mention it" She smiles softly, before jumping in. Dean takes a moment to recollect himself before jumping into the Impala. Putting it in drive and hitting the road for whatever awaits them.
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Authors Note: Ohhhh the angstttt ahahah. Hope everyone enjoyed!! And trust me when I say, this slow burn is killing me too LOL *cue villainous laugh* This chapter is unedited and I plan on coming back to edit.
@hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19 @deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur
Xoxo
#dean winchester#sam winchester#spn#supernatural#dean and sam#sam and dean#dean winchester fanfiction#supernatural fandom#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#spnfandom#supernatural tv show#supernatural fanfiction#dean x reader#eventual relationship#eventual romance#series rewrite#supernatural reader insert#x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#the winchester brothers#eventual happy ending
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tw alcohol, loss of virginity, nsfw at the end, ignoring canon
look im by no means a todo fucker but like imagine you're a sorcerer at Kyoto Jujutsu High and for some reason he takes a liking to you. maybe you bond over a shared love for pop idols or maybe the two of you just click because you both loathe being bored and get into all sorts of trouble together. and now imagine years later you and the class (im ignoring canon <3) are at some bar for some half baked reunion. the alcohol is flowing and one thing leads to another and now everyone is talking about their first times. imagine sharing that you were so busy fighting curses you just never got around to it. figured life would eventually quiet down and you'd have time for mundane shit like boyfriends and sex. only life never really quieted for you and now you're all grown up and still haven't popped your cherry. it gets todo thinking about what kind of woman is his type and suddenly he's thinking you might fit the bill. a few drinks later you're back at his place and he's got his large, meaty hands all over you, pulling off your shirt, your pants, your bra. you're his best friend after all. this is what best friends do. they help each other. they support each other. he doesn't mind coaxing the first of several orgasms out of you with his tongue. he enjoys it actually. he likes the way your virgin body is so sensitive and responsive to him. and if you've already gone that far, there's really no sense in ending the night off here. may as well go all the way. with your best friend. who knows you so well. who can take such good care of you. who has you pinned down in a mating press before you've even recovered from your first peak. he's so large and thick and strong all you can really do is lay there and take it. maybe claw your fingernails down his muscular back while you fucks the breath right out of your lungs. he's gentle with you afterwards. helps you shower and spoon feeds you your ice cream. he knows your favorite flavor. he is your best friend after all.
#genuinely have no idea where this came from#but the idea of him with a virgin reader makes me want to rip the paint off of my walls and eat it#i know his stamina is off the charts#he's ready for round two before the ice cream he's feeding you even thaws#and he's been so good to you all night how could you possibly refuse him#anyway#back to work lmfa#not sure if this needs any tags but happy to add them#todo x reader
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researching Religions for some help in making religions for my dragon world project and i think i might have just made Christianity again but for dragons this time and there's two guys who are Jesus
#worldbuilding#look i'm still figuring it out but at the moment this is just dragon Christianity#also hay if any of you in the worldbuilding tag know how to do this please help#I don't want to give my boy Catholic guilt when Catholics don't even exist there#also fun fact but for one of the religions in universe the term “Seven Suns” is the same as somebody exclaiming “Jesus Christ” in our world#tw religion#< does this need to be tagged that? im gonna to be safe even though im not sure#though please ask if it needs more tags then just that! i'll be happy to add them
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Ok, Toshiki Inoue. I’m now completely invested in your Gundam story.
(from Despair Memory Gundam Sequel, Chapter 2)
#not sure if this needs any trigger tags but hey if anyone would like I'd be happy to add them#Despair Memory Gundam Sequel#Bloody Kaoris#Toshiki Inoue#Gundam#Mobile Suit Gundam#manga
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Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:
As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭
anywho, here we go lmao
Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?
Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister
TW: None <3
Word Count: 2.6k
Read it on Ao3 <3
When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.
To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!
And the feeling was definitely mutual.
Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!
And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.
But…then something changed.
At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.
You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.
Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.
Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!
So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.
It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.
It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.
Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.
Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.
One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.
"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.
"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."
He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."
"But-"
"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."
You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.
"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.
He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."
Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.
There was only one way to find out.
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"WHAT??? HIM???"
He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.
You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.
Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.
Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.
"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"
Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.
"Why wouldn't she be?"
Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.
"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.
"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.
The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.
Then finally, your father laughed.
"Alright then..."
Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words.
“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”
One voice, “Bastard!”
Two, “Jackass!”
Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”
Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?”
He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.
“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!”
A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you.
“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.”
He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”
The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!”
Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?”
Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?”
“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”
“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.
“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.”
“Hold on now–”
“All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”
Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.
First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”
Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”
And that is how it went.
“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?”
Over.
“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–”
And over.
“Can you butt out of my song?”
And over.
“Your song? I started this!”
Until finally–
“I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!”
You had had enough.
“Oh you tacky piece of sh–”
"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"
The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.
"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"
And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.
----------
The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.
You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.
After a moment, you broke the silence.
“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”
Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.
“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”
You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.
“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”
“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.
You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”
“I learned from the best.”
You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”
“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”
You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”
Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.
She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”
You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.
“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”
“…I’ll text Angel.”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻
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one-shot 𖹭 3k w
pairing 𖹭 kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem reader
tags 𖹭 fluff, smut, established relationship, idol!hongjoong, family trip, you know he'll be having you in that hot tub at some point
✏️ okay so this wasn't planned but Bumjoong's vlog got me spiraling into some ⊹ ࣪ ˖ thoughts ⊹ ࣪ ˖ and I couldn't stop thinking about joining Hongjoong on that family trip -- and may I add, that hotspring? You know I had to.
pls reblog & comment if you like it 𖹭
© hongthoven
When Hongjoong had asked you to join him and his family on a trip to Sapporo, your first instinct was to panic— This would be your first time meeting his parents and only your second encounter with Bumjoong ever since your boyfriend’s last tour. Back then, even the idea of having lunch with Hongjoong and his older brother was already nerve-wrecking enough. Lucky for you, Bumjoong was the most welcoming human and had worked extra hard to make you feel comfortable by sharing some precious childhood memories including his younger brother pulling a tantrum over an ice-cream and how he would always crash his football games with his friends when he wasn’t much bigger than the ball itself.
Now this was different. Meeting his parents, spending days with his whole circle and living under the same roof seemed like a commitment your anxiety couldn’t seem to handle peacefully. Of course you were more than happy and flattered he would even consider bringing you along with him— any signs of this man committing to you more than enough to have you kicking your feet and screaming into a void. Hongjoong was a busy man and dating Ateez’s captain wasn’t always easy when it came to matching your schedules so you could spend quality time together. When he wasn’t spending the night at his studio, your man was either busy promoting his music, writing for other artists, working on his next photography exhibition or flying to Paris’ Fashion Week.
Still— every single one of his accomplishments felt like yours and Hongjoong always made sure to include you in every single step towards another successful experience. So when your lovely boyfriend had kindly suggested for you to take a couple days off from work so you could fly to Japan with his family, there wasn’t much left for you but to agree as Hongjoong did his best to reassure you when you immediately told him about your worries: his parents not liking you, embarrassing yourself, crashing their family time when you weren't even part of it— to which Hongjoong was quick to reply with the most unexpected piece of informations, sending you spiraling into thoughts of a future you were too afraid to dream about.
“Y/N— you’re part of my family already…” That was the validation you needed from him. The thought of him talking about you with his parents, letting them know about meaningful details of your relationship, made your heart grow twice its size. And while you were still nervous to meet them, you knew nothing could possibly go wrong when Hongjoong was by your side.
By the end of your first day, you already felt like part of the family. After hours spent walking in the snow, taking pictures, gazing at the gorgeous landscape and tasting some local delicacies, you were practically tight by the hip with Hongjoong’s mother as you walked back to the beautiful accommodation your boyfriend had rented for the entire family.
“My mom is kind of obsessed with you” Hongjoong growled as you finally caught some time to yourselves, spread out over the bed with your boyfriend resting on top of you, the coldness of his palms sending shivers all over your stomach as he slipped his hands under your sweater with a content sigh. “I’m a bit jealous actually— she’s keeping you all to herself” he almost whined, his lips reaching for your neck, forcing a soft giggle out of your lips “can’t even hold my girl’s hand or anything— such a thief” he added, biting your skin while the tip of his tongue collected your scent, reaching for your earlobe.
“Joongie— your family’s right next door” you huffed, trying to wiggle out of his embrace as he looked up to lock his beautiful yet sleepy eyes with yours. It had been a long day, following a long week of a packed schedule and you could definitely tell he was a minute from passing out from intense fatigue— but he still looked breathtaking with his blonde streaks covering half of his face and his pink lips, tempting as candy, desperately reaching for yours, only to melt into the softest kiss as he eventually complied. Closing his eyes for a minute, Hongjoong made himself comfortable with his face buried into your neck and his hands still resting under your sweater, framing you with his entire body.
It wasn’t long until you heard his breathing slowing down, its delicate sound mixing with some slight snoring from being completely burned out. Happy to see him resting at last, your hands found their way into his hair and at the back of his neck, kneading his skin tenderly as you watched the beautiful winter scenery getting darker by the end of the afternoon.
A knock on the door made you flinch into your slumber and your first instinct was to look down and make sure Hongjoong was still fast asleep— when he failed to react, your eyes found Bumjoong standing in the doorway, trying to make himself as discreet as possible, his palm covering his eyes.
“Are you guys decent?” he asked with a nervous chuckle as you immediately cleared the scene with a soft tone, the sight of his passed out brother making the older one smile endearingly.
“I think we’ll pass on dinner, can you excuse us to your parents? I think he needs this…” You whispered with one hand still locked into your boyfriend’s hair, scratching his scalp softly. Without a word, Bumjoong gave you an understanding nod as an answer and closed the door behind him, leaving you with nothing but the peaceful quietness of the bedroom as company.
After a while, you figured Hongjoong was gone for the night and decided not to rot in bed any longer— your body was getting pins and needles from staying in the same position for hours, keeping your boyfriend locked into your embrace as he snored peacefully against your chest. Though you were slightly reluctant to let go of him, the warmth of his skin as a reminder of how long it had been since you two were in the same bed, you eventually managed to roll Hongjoong over to his side, stealing a muffled complaint out of him as he called out your name in his sleep, to which you replied with a tender kiss at the crook of his neck before rolling out of bed and escaping the bedroom as quietly as possible.
The hotspring was practically calling your name as you walked into the private patio on the second floor, ready to dive into your book and enjoy some snacks while bathing in hot water— now this looked like a holiday. Everything around was quiet, peaceful if not for a couple of birds still chirping into the night. You were thankful for Hongjoong asking you to take a bathing suit although you were left a little puzzled at his odd request for a snowy weekend away— but you also couldn’t miss the little evil smirk on your boyfriend’s face when giving you a house tour, his hand palming the small of your back as he made sure to let you know just how much he expected to have you there, in this bath, as soon as his family would be gone. He would find an excuse, book a table at some fancy restaurant, pretend to have some work emergency and keep you around for support, only to bend you over the tiles and make you scream his name over and over again.
Unable to focus on your book as you kept reading the same page until it made some sort of sense, you tried to remember the last time you and Hongjoong were able to share that type of intimacy, your thighs instantly clenching at the sudden memory of his last concert in Saitama. You typically tried not to ever miss a concert whenever you could travel along but this tour you wouldn’t miss for anything— for months, you had seen Hongjoong practice his guitar skills, lessons after lessons, massaging his calloused fingers every time he took it too far — almost every day, so when it was time to witness your boyfriend in all his glory as he stood on stage ready to wreck an entire Dome, you were actually thankful to be seating alone, your entire body radiating with lust and the absolute urge to kneel in front of him to swallow his junk entirely.
Which you did, precisely 2 hours later, as soon as you were left alone with him backstage. Hongjoong had practically kicked the other members out without any effort to hide his intentions. You could actually hear Wooyoung snickering behind the door and making some crude comment to Mingi about how their captain was about to ‘get some’, which you both decided to ignore. Without any sort of ceremony, Hongjoong was quick to spit into your open mouth and guide himself between your lips, both his hands pushing at the back of your head until you could feel the familiar taste of precum spilling off his slit and into the back of your throat. You could never get enough of the way he seemed to melt against your tongue as you traced every single vein along his cock with just the tip like he was your favorite flavor.
When it came to being vocal, Hongjoong knew how to drive you past the edge of insanity with little whimpers and the nastiest words wrapped into the delicacy of his voice, like the melted chocolate heart of your favorite cake. You would never get rid of the way he often crossed the line, way past his usual cute pet names, only to call you his ‘little slut’ as he rutted himself into your mouth, stealing air out of your lungs as his hands started to tremble into your untamed hair.
The water was getting too hot, suddenly— the simple thought of Hongjoong slowly pushing your lips open with his tip making you foam at the mouth. Without realizing, your thighs had started to press against one another, rolling up and down slightly, just to give you enough friction for a quick relief. You could tell your entire body was now getting worked up over your fantasies, your back arching naturally as you eventually pushed your book to the side, suddenly uninterested in any sort of Literature. Wrapped into a cloud of steam, your body was craving a touch— yours, but mostly Hongjoong’s, and as you slowly slid your hand along your chest, brushing your erected nipple on your way down, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous at the thought of being caught. What would your in-laws think? What would Hongjoong say if he heard about his parents walking on his girlfriend touching herself in the hot tub?
All these thoughts were quickly gone as soon as your hand found its nest between your thighs, three of your fingers pressed against your core as a soft moan escaped your lips, echoing into the empty patio. Or so you thought.
“Baby?” Though you immediately recognized Hongjoong’s voice, you were quick to stiffen back into the corner of the tub, red at the cheeks as you turned around to face your boyfriend’s mixed expression. He was definitely confused— but also quite obviously aroused. Not to mention half naked now that his sweater was gone, leaving him in a pair of sweatpants, his hair now a chaotic blond mess from sleeping for too long and his bare chest already coated with steam from the temperature of the room. He looked like an absolute snack you couldn’t wait to devour.
“You should have woken me up if you needed it so bad?” Hongjoong smirked, peeling himself off his sweatpants only to leave you gasping at the sight of his exposed, already semi-erected cock for a second before he dived into the bath.
“You looked like you needed some good sleep” you half-pouted as soon as he pulled you against him, forcing you to sit on his lap with one leg on each side of his frame.
“I need you more” without any sort of warning, Hongjoong reached for your throat, wrapping all five of his fingers around it as his lips found yours, tongue teasing until you caved and deepened the kiss, soft moans dying into his mouth as you started to grind over his lap while his stiffening member threatened to push your bikini bottom to the side with each thrust from your aching hips.
“Fuck— I’ve missed you so much baby— fucking insane—” his words were coming out a little sharpier, halfway between a confession and a command while his lips traveled down to your neck, sucking a soft, pink bite out of your skin with one hand already pulling at your bikini top. You couldn’t help but feel extremely exposed as one of your tit disappeared into Hongjoong’s palm, the other already settled between his lips as he sucked desperately at your flesh like a starving newborn.
“You gonna let me fuck you here?” he asked, his tone the opposite of innocent as you clenched over nothing, pushing your core against his groin until you couldn’t take it anymore. Nothing else mattered now. The glass windows surrounded you, making you both vulnerable and exposed— the idea of his family coming home any minute, only to find you there with their youngest son balls deep into your cunt. All you could think about was to be filled and to reach climax as soon as possible. It had been weeks since you had last felt Hongjoong’s body so close to yours and a treat was overdue.
“Please” you almost weeped, using your fingers as a hook to push your bikini to the side until you felt his tip pushing against your entrance, thicker than ever.
“Oh you’re gonna beg, love?” you couldn’t say a thing— not a word— as you nodded almost hysterically, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth like a misbehaving child ready to be grounded. Though his words were tempting and his gaze wrapped into that cocky frown you knew too well, Hongjoong’s hands were nothing but tender over your skin, his love pouring out of him in the shape of his palms stroking your arms, shoulders and the back of your neck like you were nothing but glass, about to shatter against his chest.
“You’re so fucking pretty— can’t believe you’re mine” his words took you by surprise, his thumb brushing your bottom lip while you felt him aligning himself perfectly against your aching core. His eyes were locked on the way your mouth instantly wrapped around his digit, sucking at the tip like the ghost of that part of him you were now craving.
“Go ahead and beg” he added, more demanding this time, your body going limp against him as you struggled to even breathe from the absolute urge to be consumed entirely by the love of your life.
“Hongjoong— please?” you finally begged, lips turned into a pout while your hand reached for his cock, ready to wrap around it. You had never felt emptier.
“What do you think you’re doing, love?” Hongjoong smirked, his own hand wrapping around yours but never truly stopping you.
“Need you” you were a blurbing mess by now, lids heavy and hips almost jolting against him as you felt him stretching you out a little with his tip only, both your hands still tightly wrapped around his shaft. You could feel every inch of him— into your palm, pushing against your walls, everywhere, always amazed at the way his cock seemed to be exclusively crafted for your cunt.
Once he was settled, balls deep into you, Hongjoong reached for the small of your back, pulling you closer to his chest as you instinctively rolled your hips against him, collecting the sweetest sound out of his throat as your boyfriend tilted his head back, hitting the tile with his wet hair while thrusting painfully slow into you. The room was filled with soft, muffled moans and the sound of water splashing over the rim, soaking the floor with each, deeper thrust. Everything felt and sounded like absolute bliss— the roughness of his chest against your palms, the way his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass cheeks everytime he pulled you harder, bottoming out only to rocket his hips back into you— nothing could beat this feeling, this fullness, the sincere love you could see in his eyes as his lips turned into an ‘o’ every time your eyes met.
Reaching for your neck, Hongjoong pulled you closer to melt his lips into yours, his kiss more eager this time as his tongue battled with yours while his hand kept you still with a soft grip around your throat. Lost into his embrace, it took you a minute to realize he was now completely still inside of you.
“Could stay like this forever” he smiled, his palm cupping water on the surface only to pour it over your chest, his eyes following every drop as it raced over your breast like the most beautiful piece of Art. While still tightly clenched between your folds, the way he gazed at you, his fingers tracing some invisible forms over your chest, was the most intimate thing you had ever experienced with anyone. Something in his eyes made you feel safe and vulnerable at the same time, like you were precisely where you belonged.
It only took a few more thrusts for you to bite a moan into his shoulder, your entire body stiffening with bliss as Hongjoong chased you to the top, his entire face buried into your chest as he lifted himself just enough to rocket back into you harder until his cries echoed into the quietness of the night while your walls locked around his load, turning him into absolute shambles as Hongjoong started to shake slightly into your arms from a hint of overstimulation.
Red at the cheeks, blonde streaks pushed back, Hongjoong tried to compose himself, his breathing gone to absolute chaos as he kept his arms locked around your figure, unwilling to let go just yet.
“Think I’m gonna marry you” he blurted out, his forehead pressed to yours— leaving you once again, completely speechless.
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hi! do you think you could write smth about mean mommy wanda when she finds out that you've touched w/o permission? thank you so much, im obsessed w all of your fics!!!
breach of trust | wanda maximoff & fem!reader
While she’s away at a city council meeting, you find mommy’s collection of special pictures and can’t help but start touching yourself to them, and she isn’t particularly pleased when she comes home to see her baby having enjoyed herself without her.
Word count: 4963
Tags: smut (kinda), fluff, mdlg, aftercare, breast suckling, masturbation, spanking, degradation, mommy kink, there is crying but i don’t think it’s dacryphilia, but im tagging just in case you’re kinda into it, dom!wanda maximoff, sub!reader | MINORS DNI
gif credit to vanessacarlysle
Mommy was a special, important woman; she was one of the primary representatives for the town’s school district, so on some Sunday mornings she had to leave early in order to make it on time for city council meetings in which they discussed things from tax fund relocations to local events.
Sometimes they didn’t talk at all about the school district, so mommy ended up leaving her sweet sleeping angel at home for no reason at all — or so she put it.
But no matter what they discussed at those meetings, those Sundays where Wanda had to leave early were dreadful, for on these mornings you had to wake to an empty bed and no kisses from mommy until around lunchtime.
Though on most occasions anyways, Wanda made efforts to message you to make sure you’d eaten breakfast and that you were holding up alright without her; she knew how lonely you could get home alone without her, for you wouldn’t let her come home each time without getting an earful of how much you’d missed her.
This morning seemed particularly long for whatever reason, and mommy hadn’t responded to you in about an hour, which meant that she was likely discussing something that did indeed involve the school district this time.
Breakfast was yummy fruits that had been cut up for you and refrigerated before Wanda left so you could have them with your waffles.
Wanda was happy to see that you weren’t overdoing the whipped cream and syrup like you normally did when you sent her a picture of the breakfast you made, although you did add a few extra spurts of whipped cream after you took the picture to send to her.
You left the syrup as it was, though.
After that, you watched a few cartoons to which Wanda asked which of your stuffies you were cuddling with when you also sent her a picture of you sitting in the living room.
She still hadn’t responded to the picture of you hugging your stuffies close, which you knew she’d especially love because you were holding the bunny stuffie she’d gotten you for Easter a few months ago closest to your chest.
In any case, you were getting antsy and bored and you missed mommy an extra lot this time.
So you decided to start exploring.
You had only moved in with Wanda a few months ago, and though you had been here multiple times before you started living together, you still thoroughly enjoyed looking through mama’s things.
She was only ever mildly annoyed when you unfolded her clothes, but otherwise she didn’t mind at all when her sweet baby was sitting in the closet looking through her things or sitting at her vanity fiddling with her jewellery.
There was one time where you were smelling Wanda’s perfume and looking through all her jewellery and makeup, and she sat you down on her lap so the two of you were sitting in front of the vanity while mommy did your makeup and put her jewellery on you and sprayed you with the perfume you liked the most.
The recollection made you all warm — you loved mommy so much. But it also made you even antsier, for you were now desperate for her attention and you missed her dearly.
In dire need to feel mama close, you went upstairs and sat on the floor of the walk-in closet.
Immediately, you unhooked one of her white cashmere pullovers and wore it before digging through the boxes on the top of her side of the closet.
Most of these boxes had Wanda’s important memories, more expensive jewellery she didn’t often wear, mementos, and other things you really liked to look through because you loved seeing things like photos of her and Tommy and Billy or tickets to her first poetry reading she attended.
There was a smaller box you hadn’t seen before, a white one set not on the upper shelf, but on the hanging closet organiser that both you and Wanda put some of your smaller things in, like scarves and belts.
You made space on the ground for the box, moving the other things aside and sitting cross-legged while you inspected the box.
Unsure why you hadn’t seen the box before during the other times you went through mommy’s things, you curiously opened the box and were met with a collection of pictures.
Stored on their sides, you couldn’t see the contents of them until you laid the box on the side and carefully pulled the pictures out from the box.
The sight made your face immediately heat up and you suddenly felt every inch on your body throb with desire and anticipation.
There were nearly twenty photos of both you and Wanda having sex, all derived from several occasions. You’d known she’d taken them, as she always showed them to you when you were cuddled against her chest feeling all sleepy and happy, but you had no idea she printed them out nor had you seen any of them since she showed them to you the first time.
There were some of them you liked particularly, photos of just mommy with a handful of her tits or while she was fucking you from behind or while she had you on your knees with your head buried between her thighs, or pictures with her fingers in your mouth or of you buried in her breasts while she rode the strap attached to your hips.
Why did mommy have these?
You felt a throb develop between your legs and you wondered if she used them to get off when she was without you, and though it made you pouty to imagine mama touching herself without you, it drove you up the wall to imagine her alone in bed looking at pictures of her sweet angel and fucking herself to them.
Then you started looking over the pictures of mommy’s tits and her view fucking you from behind and the one where your lips were wrapped around one of her nipples with her hand cradling the back of your head, and you felt yourself inadvertently beginning to press your thighs together, your cheeks heating up exponentially and your yearn to be with mama making it all the more intense.
By the time Wanda replied to your picture of you cuddling with your stuffies calling you adorable and telling you how much she couldn’t wait to be back home with you, you’d already taken your favourite photos to bed and laid them out on the blanket, now too distracted to notice the vibrations of your phone.
When you looked down at them all splayed out, you knew what it was that made your fingers begin to twitch and your knees begin to dig into the soft blankets of the bed, the sheets still a mess and the bed still unmade from when you woke up without mama this morning.
You took a few moments to look them over, each picture, feeling your body thrum impatiently while your mind raced to perhaps lock the images in your memory so you didn’t have to indulge in what edge you were about to spill over.
But that picture — oh, that picture — of mommy cradling the back of your head while you sucked sleepily from her breasts made you ache.
So you slid off your pyjama shorts and slowly took a pillow from against the headboard and slid it between your thighs, securing your knees around it and rolling your hips downwards.
You didn’t even pull your panties to the side at first, because you knew mommy didn’t like when you did anything like this on your own if you at the very least didn’t get her permission first — which she more often than not didn’t bestow, because mommy was a greedy and impatient woman when it came to you.
It wouldn’t be bad if you at least made yourself feel a little good, and your special big girl parts weren’t really touching anything but your panties.
But, oh, the smell of mommy’s cashmere sweater and the pictures of her pretty body made your head all woozy.
You used the same laundry detergent and all, but mommy’s clothes always smelled a little different somehow; it smelled richer, like some of her perfume or her shampoo, though you know it had been washed away in the washing machine.
In any case, you just felt completely surrounded by mama, and when you pulled your panties to the side and began rubbing your throbbing clit against the pillow, you didn’t feel that you were exactly disobeying her when everything surrounding you reminded you of her.
You weren’t sure how long you’d been going at rubbing yourself against the pillow to the photos of mama because you were in a strange place of feeling guilty that you were doing it and not wanting to be conscious of how long you were disobeying her for, and sheer pleasure from riding your pillow looking at pictures of mama that you could just look at over and over and over again, and they’d be there every time you opened your eyes or looked down at the blankets where they were sprawled out.
Though the amount of time you’d been doing it for didn’t matter, at least not to Wanda, who you hadn’t heard come home and walk up to the bedroom.
Perhaps she’d been suspecting that you were up to no good when her baby was uncharacteristically silent over texts, or that you were sleeping and decided not to make too much noise when she came up and looked for you.
Whatever it was, it was only until she dropped her purse on the floor a few feet away from the bed to storm over that it finally broke you from your concentration and made you realize that she’d come home.
By the time you looked up, she took your face in her hands and angled it up so you could look at her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she growled, looking down at you.
Your stuttered attempts to answer her question ended up being worth nothing when Wanda looked down at the bed and saw the sprawled out photos in front of you. She looked over at the closet and noticed the other photos left on the floor along with the open white box she’d stored them in.
With a hum that was startlingly cool and unassuming, she looked back over to you, her eyes scarily focused as she said, “It seems we have a rat infestation; my things being gone through while I’m not home, my things not being in the same place they were when I set them down.”
You swallowed and kept quiet, for you knew she was leading up to something; if it were not for the frightening steadiness in her voice, then it was the way her fingers remained pressing into your cheeks as she held your head in place.
“Unless you have an explanation as to why those pictures are on the floor, Y/N?” she asked, tipping your head down a bit so you had to look up at her as if you were a guilty puppy.
There was no use lying now, and besides, you’d felt guilty for what you were doing ever since you laid the photos down on the bed.
“It was me, mommy, I made the mess,” you confessed. “And I was doing big girl things without mommy’s permission.”
Wanda’s eyes narrowed slightly, and then she looked down at the sweater you were wearing. The flash in her eyes seemed to be one of adoration, and you at least knew that a part of her appreciated you wearing her clothes when you were home alone.
Indeed, she did see the image of you with your face in her hands while you looked up at her with the sweetest pleading eyes and wearing her clothing to be a most adorable sight.
“Do you know what makes mommies, mommies?” she then asked.
Perking up a little as you thought about it, you answered hopefully, “Having a baby like me to care for?”
“And what does ‘caring’ for a baby like you mean, Y/N?”
You hummed thoughtfully before responding, “Giving me kisses and cuddling me and making me feel like the most special little girl in the world.”
“Oh, of course,” Wanda conceded, smiling at you.
But her grip on your face did not lessen.
“Yet, if that were the only way mommies care for their babies, then anyone else could do the same and be just as important to you as mommy,” she explained.
“Sweetheart,” Wanda cooed, “there’s one thing you’re missing.”
When you didn’t answer, looking at her curiously without any implication that you knew what it was that you were missing, mommy said, and tightened her grip on your face, “Discipline — mommies get to discipline their little girls when they’ve been bad.”
She suddenly pushed you back and let go of you, using her other hand to tear the pillow out from between your legs.
“No, mama, please!” you begged, getting onto your knees and crawling over to her. “I apologised already!”
“I have yet to hear this apology,” she said as she collected the photos from the bed.
She was right — you’d forgotten to apologise.
“I’m sorry! Mommy, I’m sorry! Please don’t give me spankings!”
“I’m happy to see you can take responsibility for your actions, honey, but what kind of precedent would I be setting as your mommy if I let your disobedience go without punishment?” She placed the photos on the nightstand and straightened with her hands on her hips. “Be a good girl and take your clothes off.”
You sniffled and crawled forward further so you could kneel in front of her. “Please, mama, I don’t want to,” you continued to beg.
“Colour?”
“Green,” you answered honestly and sniffled, still hoping she’d take pity on you.
She maintained, “Then I’m sorry, honey, but you need to take your clothes off — now.”
You rubbed your eyes and Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, reaching down and slapping your hands away from your face.
“You do not want to make mommy angrier than she is right now, angel,” she snarled from beyond a clenched jaw as she tightened a hand around your wrist. “I’ve been dealing with bullshit all afternoon and I come home to see you fucking off as if I’ve never disciplined you or taught you any form of manners in your life. The punishment I currently see fit is nothing compared to what I will force you to take if you don’t get your fucking ass up and take your clothes off.”
You knew there was nothing else to do but obey when mommy was this angry.
Earlier, you hadn’t realised how upset she already was; she must’ve been holding her tongue or trying her best to maintain her patience. She told you her punishment for you would be worse if you didn’t undress right this moment, but you also knew that the punishment you were getting now was already worse than what she’d originally intended when she caught you masturbating.
You took mommy’s sweater off first and then your panties, but when you moved to take off the loose cropped pyjama top that barely covered your tits, mama hooked a finger under the strap of it and released it so it slapped lightly against your shoulder.
“Leave this on,” she said. “I like how they make your tits look.”
Her thumb ran across one of your breasts and she thumbed for a moment at your nipple, amused at how quickly it hardened and how you pressed your lips trying not to moan in the face of how you were just about to be punished for indulging in pleasure.
She let go of you and sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusting her posture to allow you enough space to lay yourself across her lap.
Not protesting even a little bit, you crawled over to the edge and laid your stomach on her thighs. She moved around a bit so you were able to lay both your arms and legs down on the bed, leaving only your hips arched up a bit with how you were sprawled out across her lap.
“Spread your legs,” she told you, and you obeyed, making sure both of your legs were still on the bed so you could allow her proper access to you.
Wanda draped an arm over your waist and secured you in place while her other hand parted your thighs a bit more so she could lean over and inspect your cunt.
“Look at how wet this pussy is,” she said, disappointed. “You got so far without mommy’s help. Are you a big girl now, Y/N? You don’t need mommy to make you feel good?”
“No, mommy!” you protested immediately. “I-I was looking at pictures of you, mommy.”
She hummed, seemingly unconvinced, but you couldn’t tell for sure now that you were sprawled out across her lap, unable to see her face.
A thumb delved into your folds and spread you open, revealing just how sticky you’d gotten all on your own.
“It’s disgusting how good you seemed to have felt while knowing you were disobeying your mommy,” she said. “Mommy is very, very disappointed in you, honey, and not only because you disobeyed me, but because this filthy little cunt is telling me that you have no problem doing big girl things on your own. Does it feel better on your own, Y/N?”
“No, mama!”
“How will you prove it to me?”
“I can prove it to you — I can. I’ll take my spankings, mommy. I’m a good girl. I am. I made a mistake, but I love my mommy and I don’t want to do anything without mommy’s help. I was being selfish and I just missed you so much.”
“That’s sweet, honey. Indeed, you will have made it up to me should you take your spankings like a good, obedient girl. I understand little things like you make mistakes, and perhaps if it were any other day, I might choose not to punish you at all. But because you chose to be selfish today, I see it fit that I get to be selfish too. I’ve had a terrible day, and I want to be able to do what I want with my little girl to make me feel better. Does that sound fair to you, angel?”
You nodded quickly.
“Good,” Wanda said, “because mommy is feeling very, very upset.”
Worrying that perhaps if you questioned her at all you might set her off even more, but feeling curious anyways, you cautiously asked, “Why are you upset, mama…?”
Wanda took a handful of your ass, inspecting its soft, supple skin being taken into her hand. “Dealing with dim-witted idiots who seem to have no intention of saying anything worth anyone’s time yet taking it all up nevertheless has made mommy rather frustrated,” she answered. “Do you know how frustrating it is, baby, to expect so much more from someone, only to be disappointed?”
You were sure the question was rhetorical, so you could bury your face in your arms in shame while mommy delivered your first spank, eliciting a muffled yelp from you.
She continued, “I pour so much time and effort into those useless city council meetings, and yet it’s always the school district representatives that get overlooked. You have no idea how upset it makes me, angel, to come home and see you fucking a pillow of all things, because you were too much of a desperate, horny slut to listen to mommy’s rules.”
Another spank.
Wanda squeezed your ass and dug her fingers into your stinging skin.
“I want to hear you apologise again,” she demanded.
Immediately, you raised your head and said, “I’m sorry for not listening to mommy’s rules! I’m so sorry, mommy.”
Spank.
“What rules did you break, exactly, Y/N?” she pressed.
You swiped at your eyes and answered, “Baby isn’t allowed to touch her big girl parts and do big girl things without mommy’s permission.”
Another spank — this time, one on both sides of your ass.
“Why did mommy make that rule, sweetheart?”
“Because I’m too little to make big girl decisions,” you said, “and only mommy is big enough to know what’s best for me.”
Wanda rewarded your answer with a quick swipe of her thumb through your pussy, lightly grazing against your clit, before returning her hand to squeezing at your ass. “And don’t you see what happens when little girls make big girl decisions? Hm?” she pried. “Now you’re all filthy and ill-mannered, and mommy did not train you to be like that.”
Then suddenly, mommy was spanking you over and over, all over your ass, covering your delicate skin in flushed shades and trails of her nails.
“No one seems to want to listen to me today, honey,” she gritted. “And I thought that my baby, out of everyone, would respect mommy enough to listen to her.”
Seemingly propelled forward by the verbalisation of her anger, Wanda used one hand to spread your ass and delivered a spank to your pussy, making you cry out into the bed sheets.
“Nevermind the other idiots from the council, but I walked into this room feeling very betrayed and ignored by the sweetest, most beloved thing I’ve ever made mine,” Wanda explained sternly. “And there are not enough words in English nor Sokovian that could sufficiently express to you how upset that makes me feel, bunny.”
It was not the pain from the spankings that made you break, but instead, it was mommy talking about how betrayed and ignored she felt that did it.
“I didn’t mean to make mama feel bad,” you sniffled and rubbed at your eyes with the back of your wrist.
Wanda paused her spankings and replied, “I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart.”
You raised your head and took in a deep breath to steady yourself before saying, “I was just being selfish, mama. I really love mommy so much.” You rubbed your eyes again when tears started forming. “I’m not a big girl. I still need my mommy. I’m still just a baby and I still need mommy.”
From the way you were facing, you couldn’t see what mommy looked like when you said all that, and you weren’t sure if you were about to see what other punishments she had in store for when you disobeyed her even further.
You buried your face in your arms again and shut your eyes.
“Why don’t you tell mommy more about that?” Wanda asked, her voice smooth but not indicative of if she was upset or not.
Sniffling, you turned your head to the side so she’d be able to hear you when you spoke. “About what, mama…?”
A soft hand ran down the expanse of your stinging ass, almost soothingly.
“About how much you need your mommy,” she clarified. “Come on, honey. I want to hear about how my sweet little girl still needs her mommy.”
You wiped your face of your tears and raised your head.
“U-Um,” you stuttered, now feeling a little shy now that mama was asking for all your mushy feelings about her. “Well, I’ll always need mommy. Need mama to dress baby and make breakfast and cut up baby’s fruits in little shapes.”
The more you talked about it, the more lighthearted you became, and you perked up a bit as you started thinking more and more about what you needed Wanda for. “And!” you started again, excitedly. “And I need mommy to give me baths and cuddle me and give me kisses when I have nightmares. And I need mommy to hold my hand when I’m scared, and I need mommy to help me do big girl things.”
While you were speaking, Wanda kept rubbing her palm softly against your ass, and you imagined that she was pleased with what she was hearing for she stopped spanking you and talking about how upset her day had made her.
And mommy always liked petting her baby like that when she was content, like when you laid your head in her lap or when you were resting back against her in the bath.
“I like hearing these pretty things coming out of your mouth, honey,” Wanda said, sounding truly very grateful.
Then, she pressed a kiss to both sides of your flushed ass and gave you a gentle pat. “Come up and sit with mommy,” she said. “Are you alright? You aren’t feeling too hurt?”
Carefully and modestly as to not be improper by suddenly getting up and jumping into bed with mommy, although you certainly did want to, you sat up and followed mama to where she positioned herself against the headboard.
You shook your head and crawled over to her, where she sat you down on her lap and took you into her arms. “Feeling okay, mama,” you answered.
Wanda smiled, and she seemed much more relaxed than she did earlier. She stroked your cheek with her thumb and kissed the tip of your nose. “That’s good, sweetheart,” she whispered.
She looked down at you in a way that made you just absolutely melt, the way she was holding you close and petting your hair and touching your face.
“Do you want mommy to make you feel good?” she asked, trailing a hand down to your lower stomach.
You thought for a moment and Wanda waited patiently, until you cuddled closer and shook your head. Gently, you tugged on one of the buttons of her burgundy blouse and looked up at her pleadingly.
The picture of you suckling from mama still rang clear in your head, and really, it had been that picture that tipped you over the edge.
“Oh my,” she breathed out, impressed as she raised her eyebrows. “My little girl always has the best ideas, hm?”
Wanda pinched your nose, which made you giggle, before she began unbuttoning her blouse, doing it slowly enough so you could watch each one come undone, exposing more and more of her.
She looked at you with a smile on her face as you watched her unbutton her shirt, simply taken by how much love her little girl had for her.
When her blouse was unbuttoned with just her bra keeping you from her breasts, Wanda leaned down and kissed your lips and then your forehead.
You hooked a finger around her bra and looked up at her for permission. She gave you a single nod and, eagerly, you pulled her bra down and released one of her breasts.
Wanda brought you forward, and your lips immediately latched onto her nipple. She sighed in satisfaction and she leaned back against the headboard, stroking your head softly as you sucked.
“That’s good, bunny,” she whispered and brushed the corner of your mouth with her thumb. “Ah, your lips are so gentle.”
After a few tender moments, a sudden thought came to you and you unlatched from mommy’s nipple and looked up at her before asking quietly, “Why did you have those pictures, mommy?”
“The pictures of the two of us, angel?” she asked and looked down at you cuddled against her. She tapped your nose with her finger. “The one you were being all naughty with earlier?”
You blushed and turned your face away a little.
Wanda’s other hand that cradled the back of your head used its fingers to tilt your head the other way so you were looking back over at her. “I couldn’t stop looking at them on my phone and decided to get them printed. I was planning on sharing them with you soon, but I couldn’t find the right time,” she told you, her voice sweet and soft.
“It’s partially my fault — what happened earlier,” she then added, her fingers stroking your cheek. “I shouldn’t have kept the treats out where my little kitten could find them.”
She smiled when you giggled and she leaned down to kiss your forehead.
Then Wanda said quietly, “Thank you for being so sweet and patient with me, baby.” She hugged you closer so you could rest your head on her chest. “I know you did something bad today, but I didn’t have to be as harsh with your punishment as I was. I was just very upset, and seeing you do such things without me made me feel very left out.”
You looked up at her from her, nearly about to tell her how much you loved her again, but Wanda could understand it from how you looked at her.
“It’s okay for you to make mistakes sometimes, sweetheart, especially when I know you did it just because you missed me. I lost my temper, is all. Thank you for caring for me by being so understanding, even when I was being a little mean. Even little girls care for their mommies too, you know.”
Sitting up a bit, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and hugged her. “I wanna care for mommy forever and ever,” you voiced proudly.
“Only if I get to be your mommy forever and ever,” Wanda teased, kissing your cheek and rubbing your back with her other hand.
“I’ll always need mommy.”
“Then I’ll always need my little girl.”
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff x reader#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel smut#elizabeth olsen
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Rumor has it | Tom Blyth
pairing: Tom Blyth x fem!actress!reader
summary: Ever since the premiere of tbosas fans of yours have been shipping you with your costar, Tom Blyth. Is it all just rumors or were they right all along?
a/n: So I recently discovered Tom Blyth and wanted to make this for fun! Mainly based on those shipper accounts who post updates on their fav couples. Might make this into a series if anyone wants more… in the meantime feedback is appreciated and requests are open!
ynusername some of my favorite bts moments while filming tbosas
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user1 yn giving us more bts content!!!
user2 loved the movie you and Tom have to star in more films together
↳ user3 ikr I love their chemistry
↳ user4 need them in a romcom after seeing tbosas
↳ ynusername a romcom you say? I’m down if @tomblyth is… 👀
↳ user4 OMG NOT HER TAGGING HIM?!? @tomblyth make it happen
rachelzegler 🖤🖤🖤
user5 look how close they are in the second pic I can’t help but ship them
↳ user2 I’ve been shipping them before the movie even came out
↳ rachelzegler I took that one when they weren’t looking sorry not sorry
↳ user1 thank you @rachelzegler for feeding us yn x tom crumbs
tomblythupdates Tom and YN spotted hanging out in New York this weekend
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user1 they’ve been hanging out a lot lately… 👀
↳ user2 looks like their on a date to me
user3 never seen Tom hang out this much with any cast member besides Rachel and Josh
↳ tomblythupdates a fan said Rachel and Josh were there too
↳ user2 so they were on a double date… interesting
↳ user3 lets not speculate anything yet they could still be friends
↳ user6 I was there and they didn’t look like friends to me… that’s all I’m gonna say
↳ user1 omg spill the tea please
↳ user3 let’s respect their privacy even if they are or aren’t dating we should still be happy for them
yntomsources New pictures of @tomblyth and @ynusername from their photoshoot
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user1 they ate and left no crumbs
user4 omg look at my parents
user2 can we talk about the HAND PLACEMENT HELLO?!?
user5 here I thought they couldn’t get any hotter but this changed my mind
antitomyn I’m sure this is just a PR stunt to promote the film they can stop pretending now
↳ user1 imagine being jealous of Tom and YN couldn’t be me ☕️
↳ user2 even if you don’t ship them together have some respect for their work as actors not everything is PR
↳ user4 you can’t fake what they have
↳ yntomsources @antitomyn you have been blocked
tomblyth happy to know I’m not the only one who enjoys croissants on set @ynusername
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user4 now Tom has someone to share his croissant pain with
user1 @tomblyth add her to the croissanicles
↳ tomblyth already did
user2 I feel like Tom got her hooked on croissants and now they’re her favorite
↳ ynusername your right I blame him for my croissant addiction
rachelzegler save me and Josh some this time please
↳user4 this time?!? what happened last time?
↳ ynusername Tom almost dropped them all last time
↳ user4 it’s giving “you almost made me drop my croissant” vibes
↳ rachelzegler 😆😆😆
user5 Seeing Tom and YN together butters my croissant
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Out of the Bag (Jamil, Ace, and Idia x Yuu)
"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.
"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?
notes: (so uhhhh Jamil and Ace were supposed to be a part of the original post but I cut them out because I had to go to bed but forgot to remove the tags, sorry </3) they/them pronouns used for Yuu, sibling snark (Jamil and Ace) vs light angst (the Shroud parents), light reference to certain events in Ch. 6, but nothing specific. If you liked this please check out the first version on my masterlist.
Jamil
"Oh yeah, you're Najma, right?" The younger girl looks pleasantly surprised you have remembered her from your visit to the Scalding Sands.
"Well that makes this a lot easier, do you know where Jamil is?" You internally cheer at how polite she is, some of the other families you have been dealing with today have really been testing your patience. "I've been looking everywhere for him, but couldn't seem to find a good opportunity to sneak up on him." Or maybe not, that doesn't sound like she hasn't seen him at all, why is she asking you?
"According to my schedule he's probably in the gym for the club activities program." You confirm with your clipboard and Najma sighs.
"Lame, he's gonna be all sweaty and gross." She checks her phone as you sneak a glance at Grim trying to figure out how much longer you have before you need to find something shiny to distract him. "Actually maybe I can just ask you." You turn your attention back to Najma who seems to be tapping her cheek with her phone and sizing you up. "Is there anywhere to get snacks on campus?"
"Now you're talkin!" Cheers Grim, bringing a really bright smile to Najma's face and a tentative one to yours. "Mr. S's Mystery Shop's got all the tuna you can ask for!"
"And other things to." You helpfully add and Najma happily begins to follow.
"So what do you like to do?" she asks almost ten seconds into your walk. "Like what fun stuff is there to do around campus?"
"Shouldn't you be asking your brother?" You ask, thankful Grim is too caught up in his tuna thoughts to make any snarky comments.
"About you?" Najma laughs and you feel a bit silly. "Nah he hates being honest about things like that."
"Well I don't have much free time..." but you manage to list off some things that you like as Najma nods, still tapping her phone on her chin for some reason.
"What about food?" she stops fiddling with her phone and just goes straight to texting on it as the Mystery Shop comes into view. "I know Jamil's food looks boring but it tastes super good."
"It sure does." Grim says, well more like whines. "He only ever gives it to Yuu and gets mad when I eat it though."
"That's because he asked for my opinion, not yours." It's a petty thing to say, but hey Jamil's a good cook. Najma seems to agree, giggling before you both jump ten feet backwards as a strangely shaped blur nearly knocks you over.
"NAJMA!" Jamil is indeed, sweaty and gross looking, his basketball jersey is practically drenched through, almost like he ran the entire way to here from the gymnasium. He's doubled over, hands on his knees as you fumble around looking for the water bottle Crewel made you bring with you earlier which he gratefully takes.
"Oh hey what are you doing here Jamil?" You don't know Najma super well, but she almost sounds disappointed to see her brother. "Prefect said you were at the gym."
"Don't start." Jamil passes you back the empty water bottle, hesitating just a bit before he lets you take it. "She didn't do anything weird, right? Hasn't said anything strange?" You blink in confusion.
"No? She's just been asking a bunch of questions about stuff. Jamil relaxes, letting you take the bottle with a genuine smile-
And gets cut off by a shutter sound effect making you both turn towards Najma, who doesn't bother looking up from her phone camera.
"Whoops thought I turned that off."
Ace
"Well, well, well, just what should I do with you?" The ginger stranger is stroking his chin with an all too familiar look that puts you on edge, not because you think he is going to try anything illegal (yet) but because you can practically see the collar on this guy already. There really is no beating around the bush about who this guy is, even if you really wished you had some plausible deniability. "I could tell you about that time I told him if he kissed a frog it would turn into royalty and he actually did it-" Too much information he technically just did. "Or what about that time he only wanted to eat carrots so I freaked him out by saying he was turning into one because his hair was orange-" So is yours big brother Trappola! And where the hell is Grim he is supposed to be suffering through this with you. "Nah those are too boring- oh I got it!" Before you can break out in a dash for the mirror chamber, big brother Trappola claps an unintentionally (you hope) firm hand on your shoulder. "Listen to this- wait I didn't introduce myself I-"
"Ace's brother." He seems genuinely taken aback. "He talks about you all the time."
"Oh does he?" Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned that, little Trappola's ego was insufferable already, older Trappola's has got to be worse right. It's so obvious you can't even bring yourself to put the question mark on it.
"Funny you mention that, from my end it seems like all he ever talks about is Yuu." He makes a big show of looking you over. "Always talking about what a pain it is to look after you, but he never does stop." He maneuvers himself to look directly into your eyes. “You must be pretty special then, right?”
“Didn’t you used to go here?” You ask, crossing your arms and fixing your best “not today Trappola” look onto your face.
“Sure did! Also got put into Heartslabyul, must run in the family, we’re all a bit mad.” Older Trappola breaks eye contact for just a second, something dancing on the tip of his tongue you have no desire to entertain at all. You just want to ditch this overgrown root veg on his brother and then take a nap.
“So then, just to be clear, you don’t need me to show you around.” You fumble around your clipboard looking for a map anyway.
“Oh no I absolutely need you to do that.” You like it when Ace plays dumb better, at least it’s cute. “Would be a really bad thing if you just left me all alone and I went somewhere I wasn’t supposed to.” He stands up straight, looking off into the distance behind you with a dramatic sigh. “Somewhere like Ramshackle Dorm maybe? I hear that’s one of Ace’s-”
A surprisingly strong pair of arms wraps you into an embrace from behind.
“Back off.” snaps Ace, a lot harsher than either of you have heard before “This one’s mine.”
Idia
"Dear! Dear! Come look it's the prefect!" A very excited very pink woman in a sundress and comically oversized sunglasses beckons to a very tall, very out place looking man who is... also wearing comically oversized sunglasses.
"The who?" he sheepishly walks over to his wife and gives you a little wave, clearly out of place but trying his best.
"The prefect! Ortho and Idia's friend." The realization seems to hit both you and Mr. Shroud at the same time, causing you both to retreat just a bit. You because you feel desperately dumb for not noticing the flaming hair and him because-
Well you hope it's because of the whole house thing but who knows.
"Oh sorry. Um we're Mr. and Mrs. Shroud but you probably already guessed that it's really nice to meet you." You awkwardly shake hands while Grim hides behind your legs.
"Do you have any plans for today?" Asks Mrs. Shroud. "I'd hate to interrupt things too much."
"Oh no that's not really an issue for me." You look down at Grim for half a second before adding. "For us."
"I'm sorry to hear that." whispers Mr. Shroud, gently taking his wife's hand and you stand around in silence for a little bit, trying to figure out how to walk the conversation from the ledge it's found itself on.
"Um if there isn't anything you need help with-"
"Idia speaks really highly of you." Mrs. Shroud says gently, and you have to keep yourself from fainting from shock. Idia speaking highly of- no forget that. Idia talks to his parents? And you were the conversation topic? If she had said it was Ortho that would make sense but Idia? "I know he can be a bit blunt, but he treasures your friendship. And as his mother, I am very grateful he has someone as kind as you in his life."
"We both are." whispers Mr. Shroud. "If you need help while you are here please don't hesitate to ask us." And with that they leave you and Grim
~~~
[Fullmetal] hey ortho said u ran into our parents irl
[Fullmetal] srry that had to be awkward
[yuu] it's cool
[yuu] I mean they spooked Grim but they were nice lol
[Fullmetal] UNACCEPTABLE
[Fullmetal] ...so do you think that he'd be cool to come over so I can like
[Fullmetal] apologize
[Fullmetal] u know for the stress
[yuu] and not for talking about me behind my back (￣ε￣)
[read at 6:57 pm]
[Fullmetal is typing... ... ...] [... ... ...] [... ... ...]
"I don't need to apologize if I said nice things... right?"
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#jamil viper x reader#ace trappola x reader#idia shroud x reader#Najma texting Jamil within 10 seconds of seeing the prefect: *get over here or i am stealing ur bitch*#also not me googling “funniest lies to tell kids” to write ace's brother and then not using any of them#also idia enjoyers... idk if i did your boy well i am so sorry
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Hi! Here is my version 2 savefile! 😊
What is new?
- New townies more stories (a few of them don't have storylines, but will add later)
- Aparments/Townhouses are set as residential rentals
- I fixed some routing issues with some lots
- Added some details to New Crest
- I added lots to
~(2) Granite Falls
~(1) Selvadorada
~(2) San Myshuno
~(2) Sulani
~(3) Britechester
~(8) San Sequoia
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I used MCCC to place other creators' townies in my save.
Creators used:
BrownieeTheGoat
Plumzet
Symplesimss
Simquoya
Kinzbomb
Please check them out they have amazing sims!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warning! Pack Heavy!
Packs used:
EPs: All packs
GPs: All packs except for Vampires, ROM, JTB, and Werewolves
SPs: All Stuff Packs
Kits: All kits except for Bust the Dust and Modern Menswear
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No CC was used in this save, but I did use mods however you do now need these mods to play in this save. I do recommend some mods for some builds to function and some storylines to work BUT YOU DO NOT NEED THEM, they are just for realism
MODS used:
MCCC
UI Cheats
Tool
Better Build Buy
Recommended MODS: (They are Optional, you don't need them for this save file only if you want more realism)
Simrealist: SNB, Real Estate Mod
Turbo Driver: Wicked Whims Basemental Mod, Basemental Gangs BlacklifeSims: Default Car Replacements
Khippie: Default Terrain Replacement
Littlemisssam: SimDa Dating App, More Visitors, Zooroo ATM Lumpinou: Contextual Social Interactions, First Impressions, MoodPack, No Strings Attached, Open Love Life, Road To Romance, Relationship & Pregnancy Overhaul, Talents&Weakness
Weerbesu:- Ui Cheats, More Columns Mod
Adeepindigo: Dental Mod, Healthcare Redux
Thepancake1 and MizoreYukii: Color Slider, Bed Cuddle
MizoreYukki: Sim City Loans, Drama Mod
RVSN: Retail Therapy
Food Mods: Littlebowbulb | QMBIBI | Srsly | ATS4 | Somik & Severinka | TheFoodGroup: Custom Drinks, Custom Food | Icemunmun | Apricot Rush Food Retextures ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If you decide to download this savefile and run into any problems please message me so I can fix them and update the save file.
Also if you decide to download this save file, please don’t claim any of the lots or townies as your own, Please tag me in any post I would like to see your sims in this save! With all that said I really do hope you enjoy this safe file if you decide to download it!
Happy Simming!
~SN~ if anyone wants to contribute sims to this savefile, let me know I will make sure to add them and credit you...this was the hardest part for me and the reason it took so long to get version 2 out and I still didn't add enough sims, I will be adding more diverse couples/families, elders, teens, kids toddlers and infants.
Download [SimfileShare][Patreon]
#thesims4#thesims#ts4#the sims 4#the sims community#ts4 save file#sims 4 save file#showusyourbuilds#showusyoursims
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Thinking about Stalker!Anakin x Depressed!Reader
Tag list - Add yourself to my tag list or to my anon emojis through my pinned post ! @vixxensvoid @maevesversion @sockiess @stylesslytherinskywalker @myheadhurtscutely @yourenogoodforme @gallerygourmet
For this, we’ll say that reader is going through a depressive episode and isn’t always like this so they don’t know how to cope
Stalker!Anakin that absolutely loves the fact that you have to rely on him, he hates that you’re struggling mentally, but overall he has the most toxic need for you to be completely dependent on him
You haven’t been eating enough recently? Of course he’ll make sure to restock your kitchen for you! You don’t have enough energy to even get up and make yourself something? He’ll do it for you. You probably sleep a lot and it’s easier for him to sneak in and cook something for you so that way when you wake up, you can just eat whatever he made!
Either you’re sleeping too much or too little, either way Ani will help. If you’re absolutely restless at night, he’ll do everything he can to help you relax. Make you a cup of tea, use aromatherapy, put on some background noise that isn’t distracting, and if you already have sleeping pills, he’ll make sure you take them.
Speaking of pills, any kind of medication you take whether it’s for your depression, or maybe you take some for anxiety, or to just stabilize your mood. He’ll make sure it’s in a reachable place, probably on your bedside table so you can take it without even getting out of bed.
On the off chance that you’re suicidal, you can bet your ass that he’s taking everything out of your apartment that could harm you. You won’t have access to your medication bottles, in fear that you’ll overdose. You wouldn’t have any sharp knives, razors, rope, etc. Anything that he thinks could end your life, will be moved into his place until further notice.
If you’re struggling with hygiene, he’ll still be there for you. Of course he can’t force you to get up and take a shower but he’ll make it easier on you. He’ll leave your toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, whatever else you have for your oral hygiene on your bedside table, maybe a vanity or desk if you have one in your room.
He’d make sure to put clean clothes on your bathroom counter, knowing damn well that if you do shower, you probably wouldn’t even pick out clean clothes.
Most of your laundry is probably dirty, so he’d take it upon himself to make sure that you have clean clothes, if you’re actually out of bed, maybe on a walk to get some sunlight, he’ll even wash your bedding and sheets.
If you’re actually out of the house, it’s honestly a miracle. Being home all day long makes it harder for him to sneak in, although if your sleep schedule is fucked up enough, it makes it easier for him to sneak in during the day. If you’re out of the house, he’d for sure be inside your home, making sure that everything is taken care of. Trash taken out, dishes done, floors swept and mopped.
Your financial situation can be tricky, if you have a job then it helps that you’re out of the house, if you’re unemployed, he’d definitely make sure you have all the money you need. Maybe you’re rich and don’t have to worry about money. But maybe you also work from home and need to get work done on your laptop. Anything you didn’t finish up, he’ll finish for you.
If you’re in college, he’d help with your schoolwork load, making sure any essays are done on time.
If you’re isolating yourself from people, it would give him a sick kind of happiness, knowing that you don’t need anyone but him. Although he’d still feel bad, knowing that social interaction is important for mental health. He’d make sure that your friends and family stop by. Maybe he steals your phone and texts them, or maybe they just decide to stop by. Either way, he’ll make sure you’re awake and ready to meet them.
He knows how important it is to get off your phone when depressed, he’d probably delete all the social media off your phone, even going as far as to set up a parental lock on the AppStore so anytime you want to download something, you’d need a code.
He’d make sure you have access to your hobbies and passions. Reconnecting with those things will make you feel better. If you’re an artist, you better expect to see new sketchbooks, pencils, markers, paints, canvases, all of it.
Okay that’s all I’ve been thinking about ❤️
#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x you#anakin x reader#anakin x you#anakin fanfiction#star wars anakin#anakin imagine#stalker!anakin#demieyesore
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repertum (pt. 2 - final)
summary: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise. // cameos from lumine and nahida // wc: ~15.1k
a/n: well, here it is! many, many thanks to @allsaiint for being my beta once again, especially for this monster. i love her to the ends of this universe. fair warning though, the smut at the end is un-beta’d so you’ll probably come across many grammatical/syntax errors. sorry, in advance.
cw: afab!reader, fem!reader, more angst (but with comfort), 3.4 spoilers, probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)
smut tags: derogatory/degrading terms (slut, cocksleeve, cumslut, cockslut), referring to alhaitham as ‘sir’, size kink, twinges of dacryphilia, one (1) pussy slap, some overstimulation, light bondage (reader’s wrists get tied together), blowjob, cunnilingus, hints of reader entering subspace (dom!alhaitham, sub!reader), will add more if i remember later but i think those are the highlights lol
please read part 1 for context! | AO3 Link for better viewing if the app is being a bitch
-
As agreed upon you meet Lumine and Paimon on the walkway leading up to the Sanctuary. The traveling duo go inside first, as you’re sure they have much more private and serious matters to discuss. While you wait outside, you gaze over the ledge at the breathtaking view of Sumeru in the direction of the Lokapala Jungle, and its waterfalls still bright even in the darkness of dawn. Taking in everything around you— the breeze and the stars— you feel some peace in your heart knowing you have a place to call home and return to.
The doors swing open with Lumine looking a little less happy than earlier. Paimon mutters – or at least attempts to – under her breath, while a man with a wide-brimmed hat trails out after them. The traveler provides no explanation,and instead informs you that Lord Kusanali wishes to speak with you for a minute. Perhaps the time together will let you know more about this mysterious man – child? – and why he seems to have put Paimon in such a bad mood.
“Y/N,” the Dendro Archon greets you warmly. Her voice is gentle as ever and full of compassion. “Thank you for coming here. I simply wanted to see if you had everything you needed for your travels and research.”
You show her your bag with thinly-veiled enthusiasm. “Thank you for the opportunity and your consideration of my proposal. The fact that you took the time to read through it and ask me about it really means a lot to me. It was luck that the traveler happened to be heading in that direction as well.”
“She will be a good companion. Please watch over her whenever you can.”
“Of course, though I imagine she’s going to watch over me more than her,” you jest and Lord Kusanali shares your amusement. “Is there anything else you needed?”
“No. May you have safe travels, and please visit whenever you return. I look forward to your findings.”
You bow with as much reverence as possible before waving goodbye to the Archon and heading out the doors. The man from earlier is nowhere to be seen, and Lumine appears more relaxed.
“Everything all good?”
“Yes! Should we head out then?”
“Very well.”
Those with Visions have always fascinated you with the way they could make their weapons appear and disappear, and materialize things in midair. Lumine does so with what appears to be a map of Teyvat, humming to herself as she pinpoints a location. She waves it away with dainty fingers and holds out her hand.
Though confused, you trust she means no ill will and Lumine grips your hand tight when you take hers.
“Teleportation is always a little rough for first timers. Just hold on and you’ll be okay.”
“Teleporta–”
You disappear in a flash of blue light. For a split, disorienting second, you see nothing, and in the next you’re greeted with a view of what appears to be part of the Mawtiyima Forest, if the luminescent treetops are any indication. Slight nausea overcomes you and your stomach does a small turn – shit, she wasn’t lying.
“Are you alright?” Lumine asks with concern, searching through her pack for a remedy..
“Do you want a cold towel?” Paimon adds on and flutters around you to search for any signs of injury.
“I think I just need to breathe for a second,” you say, collapsing against the cliffside. “And sit for a minute.”
“Take your time. We’re quite close to the border. I would’ve taken us straight into Fontaine, but since I’ve never been before, none of those teleport waypoints have been activated.”
You point towards one in front of you. “You mean these?”
“Convenient, right?”
“...very.”
-
Distraught, perhaps, is one way to describe Alhaitham’s current state of mind.
By all means, it makes no sense. Did he get to know you well in an alarmingly short amount of time? Sure. Did he really look forward to those initial 36 hours passing, to the point where he felt time was crawling by at a turtle’s pace? Perhaps. Was he trying to satiate a curiosity that he had never really felt before and attempting to answer a personal unknown? In some way.
The attempting-to-resign Acting Grand Sage has read his fair share of historical texts – especially conflicts driven by love and lust. A force so powerful that it could twist the minds of even the brightest and most logical – what was that like? From a young age, he was only ever introspective in an academic sense, and the scholars touted him to be a genius. But feelings, emotions, felt abstract and out of reach as he grew up. He only ever understood his lust as a byproduct of his development as explained in the textbooks. A branch of psychology mixed with biology described everything from why humans feel attraction and the need to copulate to what is deemed healthy and alluring in a potential partner, all in the name of posterity and evolution.
Alhaitham first concluded his initial draw towards you could be explained away by all of these findings.It didn’t quite fit all the checkboxes, but enough for him to deem it understandable and valid. Those checkboxes had been visited once before when he lost his virginity, but that was all there was to it. He wouldn’t be blind enough to deny that it was a pleasurable experience, but there were other, more pressing matters at hand. Yet, even after drawing his conclusion, nothing academic could help explain why his desire to be near you was so strong. The more carnal desires took a backseat to his need to pick your brain, to make you laugh, or to have you challenge him. He learned as many of your little mannerisms as possible, all the while pretending he was completely unfazed by your presence. Your different smiles, your nervous movements, your stressed looks, your interests and dislikes – he wanted to know all of them, and not so he could store it in his brain for cautionary purposes. It was all for the sake of getting to know you.
And then he became greedy.
Another sin Alhaitham didn’t quite understand before meeting you was the growing, bubbling pit of a constant want want want for you to be by his side. To have the fantasies of coveting your soul, retching on the inside at the mere thought of others seeing you the way he did you – he was starting to see why individuals were so often thrown into a fit of rage over their loved ones and why the law has separate stipulations regarding “crimes of passion.”
And even as he sits at his usual table in his usual seat (especially on days when he really doesn’t want to be in his office during work hours), sending glares to anyone who dared to approach him or even come near your seat (which was very much not your seat by any legal means), he finds himself buried in books of philosophy. Not that they are so far out of his usual reading, for they typically align with his understanding that there are universal questions that will never be answered yet should be stated, but he has never felt the need to dive deeper than the tip of the iceberg on different schools of thought. One line in particular catches his attention, however.
“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions.”**
Moral philosophy, the area where this statement hails from, was intriguing, yet Alhaitham knew the respected experts could talk in circles for days and do their best to argue their reasoning. This particular philosopher suggests that passion is the cause for reason, for understanding why humans do the things they do. And as the word connotation suggests, there is no room to discuss whether or not this line of thought is rational. Just as passion drives reason, reason can also serve as the breeding ground for the passions.
Abstruse to several, esoteric to many, ambiguous to the masses – Alhaitham wonders if he’s found some sort of solution to his internal dilemmas. To have it all summed up in a single sentence resonates deeply with him. Simple and succinct, yet speaking volumes to the implications; finally with a deep breath.
The next day in his office, he leans and falls back into his seat, gaze focused on the domed ceiling above. He’s always hated this chair; far too grand and impractically large. One thing he doesn’t mind is the proportionate size of the desk, as he’s learned over the years that if you give him the space, he will inadvertently cover every inch of it with his materials. Even with their dwindling number of research applications, he manages to fill the voids with his own research, books laid open and aged parchment collecting dust. For being so far above the ground level of the House of Daena, it makes sense that silence is usually his sole companion, as he tends to ignore the other researchers and matra milling around. But there must have been some memo sent out because no one is there today, and no one has come up in hours.
Surprisingly, he finds the quietude and quiescence unnerving rather than welcoming, so much so he removes his treasured earpieces and places them in his lap. The white noise he’s often found bothersome is… comforting?
A distraction, perhaps, from the absence of you.
A long, heavy sigh leaves his chest as he pulls himself up and ambles over to a locked filing cabinet with all the approved research project applications. Before he became Acting Grand Sage, the remaining applications had been split between him, Lord Kusanali, and a few other individuals. First sorted by subject area and then by last name, he rifles through with an absent mind until he catches your name on a tabbed folder. Alhaitham wastes no time plucking it from the confines of the drawer and opening it, taking care to make sure the stacks of reports and research diagrams don’t spill out onto the floor. Kaveh would have a field day if he knew just how enraptured he was by the mere sight of your handwriting. He may even take him to Lord Kusanali herself for psychological treatment or interrogation because there was no way this Alhaitham was his same sarcastic, scathing, infuriating roommate – and despite the slight amusement the thought gives him, he cannot ignore the painful pull in his chest.
It’s been five weeks since you were last seen in Sumeru, and five weeks since he had knocked on your apartment door only to be greeted by your next-door neighbor, who announced you’d left early in the morning with no definitive time of return and no mention of your destination. You would be back eventually, but would it be in six days or six months? Nobody seemed to be the wiser.
He had had half a mind to reach out to Cyno and call in a special favor to track you down for his own internal peace, but he knew the request would be irrational and unnecessary. So once a week, he stops by your apartment to see if you’ve returned, and with each unsuccessful visit and your doormat collecting more and more dust, his heart sinks just a little bit lower. If he wasn’t in his current position, he’d be halfway across the desert by now (and ultimately in the complete opposite direction) under the guise of searching for ancient ruins. Merely searching for facts and truth; nothing more, nothing less.
All to say, Alhaitham wishes he had looked through this filing drawer earlier because the file on his desk contained all the answers to his questions of your whereabouts.
The relief of knowing you were safe in a nearby nation surges through every vein in his body, tension in his muscles disappearing with the rays of sunlight beating down from the stained-glass window above. He would’ve been much more concerned if you’d gone to Inazuma – even if this Captain Beidou that Lumine spoke highly of was more than adept at crossing the treacherous seas from Liyue, the mere possibility of you falling overboard or being forced to stay in the nation was still unsettling, to say the least.
Leaning his weight onto the desk, Alhaitham drinks in everything your research has to offer. There are a few mistakes and edits that could be rectified here and there, but nevertheless, it is well done. He remembers now seeing some of these papers before, as notes you had been scribbling down on some early afternoons in the cafe. Pleased isn’t enough to describe the hum in his chest when he notices some of his suggestions incorporated into your application, fondly recalling the moments when you had picked each other’s brain regarding the topic at hand. Never once did you mention that any of this had been in preparation for your big research journey, but he would be remiss not to believe recent events had served as the catalyst for your sudden departure.
“Do come back to me,” he murmurs to no one. As he lifts his head, the cosmical, automated orb— reminiscent of an Auspicious Branch— just above the elevator platform seems to mock him. It’s An inaccurate teller of time as it spins and spins in its orbit, and Alhaitham yearns for the day you return home.--
The day you return to him.
-
Traveling with Lumine is fascinating, to say the least.
Ignoring the fact that feeding Paimon is like feeding three grown adults, watching the Traveler gather and store every fruit and herb and loot in sight makes you wonder what kind of life she had led before all of this. The way she takes down some wayward Treasure Hoarders is a sight to see, like a well-rehearsed dance. It lends to your understanding of why the term is “martial arts” because the way Lumine maneuvers around the enemies and her sword is, very much so, an art.
But more time together means more time into probing the real reason you’ve decided to come to Fontaine with her, and for whatever reason, she is really good at getting you to spill the beans. Lumine’s heard most of your life story at this point.
“Who are you running from?” she asks one night. After checking in with the Adventurer’s Guild in Fontaine’s capital, you’ve joined Lumine in her journey around the nation to activate the rest of the teleport waypoints. You send her your sheepest look, begging with your eyes for her to not ask anymore. But you’ve skirted around this topic the last few weeks and you figure it’s time for her to know.
With a heavy breath, you set down your bowl of biryani on the grass. “Promise you won’t judge?”
“Promise.”
“...it’s Alhaitham.” The crackling of the little campfire Lumine had put together is deafening, even louder than the ripples and waves of the river crashing onto the sand in front of them.
Naturally, Paimon speaks up first, though speaking is an understatement. “Alhaitham?! You mean that– that super mean Acting Grand Sage? The know-it-all? Can’t really care less about others? Condescending?”
“That’s a pretty big word there, Paimon–” Lumine cuts in.
“Hey!”
“See?” you respond, the smile on your face small, awkward, and bittersweet. “Things happened and well… I thought it’d be better if we stopped seeing each other.”
“You were seeing each other?!!”
“Paimon, stop!” Lumine interjects and shoots the floating fairy a disapproving glare.
You really wish you had some alcohol with you right now.
“Well…”
For the next several minutes, you provide a detailed summary of how you came to meet and learn more about Alhaitham, the nature of the budding relationship, how all your insecurities came to a head on that night, and how you ended up here. Lumine remains silent when you finish explaining everything, clearly thinking through all the information and trying to find the right words to say.
“You know,” she begins, “Alhaitham may be one of the most infuriatingly logical men that I’ve ever met. And a really good actor, too. Remind me to tell you the details of what he did when we rescued Nahida.”
“...I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”
“I’m just saying, but I also think you know by now that Alhaitham isn’t someone who does anything that isn’t for his own benefit, in some way.”
“Again, not helping.”
“What I’m trying to say is if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I’m sure there are plenty of other people who would agree to help out in much less time.”
To which, Lumine has a point. A very good point. But still you say, “He’s super picky though, I don’t think he’d just sleep with anyone regardless.”
“Which brings me to my original point: he picked you for a reason.”
“Because I’m easy?”
Lumine flicks your forehead before you can even blink, and with a decent amount of force as well. Your resulting indignant yelp pierces the atmosphere as you rub the sore spot. “What was that for?!”
“For being unreasonable. I’m trying to say that you must be special to him, that’s all.”
“... but what if he didn’t want to see me again after sleeping together? Sure, let’s say that I am ‘special’, heavy emphasis on my air quotes right now, but I want more, an actual relationship. How do I know that’s also what his end goal is?”
“You don’t,” Lumine affirms. “But there’s no use in wading through the what-ifs. You know what you want, and I think you’re allowed to communicate that to him, regardless of what he says.”
It’s hard to come to terms with the underlying implication that you’re being something of a coward, with not a whole lot of reason to be. You’re grateful for the open water before you, its lullaby comforting with the breeze it brings. Years of academic research have made you painfully familiar with the concept of trial and error, but to apply it to human relationships? It leaves much to be undesired. Five weeks, in the grand scheme of things, are certainly nothing more than a miniscule blip of time. But in your limited life with the overhanging unknowns of the world, it was a sizable enough amount of time filled with passive rumination and downward spirals.
“You’ll figure it out when you get there. But I’m warning you, we’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”
You can’t help but laugh in relief. “That is completely okay, I promise you.”
Running away might as well be your newly developed skill at this point.
-
A few weeks later
“I mean, I could stay with you there in Fontaine, right? You know, extra set of hands and all?”
“You’re not getting out of this.”
“Lumiiinneee,” you whine, petulant pout making itself known.
“Just talk to him – whatever happens, happens. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. But you owe it to yourself to say your piece, as well as to him for an explanation that he needs to hear. Now go.”
She all but (gently) shoves you into the Akademiya, watching over you with an encouraging wave of her hand. When you’re less than five steps away from the door into the House of Daena, you look over your shoulder once more for any signs of escape. As expected, the Lumine-shaped obstacle stands firm in her spot.
You clutch your final report to your chest, mind racing with a thousand thoughts per second, and don’t even realize you’ve already made it to the elevator platform. And once it gives a mechanical shudder and starts to go up, you want to scream and simultaneously steal a glider to jump off and land safely back on the ground level.
Is it good or bad luck that no one seems to be around? Maybe he won’t be at his desk and you can just leave the report there and fucking bolt. Maybe it’s not even Alhaitham in the Grand Sage’s chair. Maybe the man is gone altogether and is somewhere in the desert looking at ancient runes.
Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore and has forgotten about you. Maybe he told himself to let bygones be bygones, and that you were simply another scholar in the Akademiya. No one special.
Your initial hopes of his coincidental absence are dashed as you walk up the stairs. His silver hair stands out among the sea of azure and viridian, and he doesn’t even bother to look up from the stack of papers in his hand. Not that you were a bull in a china shop by any means, but the man would even notice with his eyes closed if there was a fly on the complete opposite side of the office. Your heart is ready to burst from your chest with each shaky step, and too soon, you stand in front of his sprawling desk.
“My office hours will be ending in a few minutes,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone without looking at you. You risk a sharp inhale at the sound of his voice, an all too familiar mix of gentility and sternness. “If it’s something that requires more than that length of time, come back tomorrow.”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck – “I’m just, um, turning in a research report?”
At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham doesn’t even bother to amuse himself. He’d much rather not look and not be disappointed, than to do so and become reacquainted with dashed hopes. “...And the necessary cover sheet is on top? Does it have your name, project number, and corresponding title?”
“Y-Yes.”
Still perusing through the paperwork in his hands, he frees one hand to point it at a basket on his far-right corner. “Leave it there. Your advisors and I will be reviewing it within the next two weeks.”
“Oh, o-okay.”
You do as instructed, but with each second that passes without any eye contact or direct acknowledgement of your presence, you begin to wonder if he’s purposely ignoring you. Or maybe he forgot about you entirely and wrote you off as a failed pursuit. Perhaps that would be the best-case scenario and you could hole up in your apartment for the rest of… eternity. Maybe. Lumine can come and scold you later and you can take it like a champ.
But your heart, ever so fickle and occasionally diabolical, plays one last card and causes you to stop at the top of the stairs. “Have a good night,” you muster out. “Thank you, Alhaitham.”
The rustling of his papers ceases as you turn and hurry down the steps, taking extra care to not trip over your feet. Just before you can activate the elevator, a frazzled “Y/N?” is called from above. With sweaty hands, a sullen heart, and a leadened brain, you nervously orient towards the scholar inhabiting your dreams, who stands on the edge of the platform above and peers down to confirm his suspicion. His stance looks as if he had leapt over his desk and sprinted at top speed towards you.
You’re not sure how to take it all in, how to take him in – the “feeble scholar”, for once, appears as such. If possible, his cheeks seem a little more sunken in, further accentuating the sharp edges of his jawline. His hair looks mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it several times too many. The cloak around his shoulders rests askew from his sudden movements.
But his eyes—
Those seafoam irises and amber pupils pierce through your soul, but not in an inquisitive and calculating manner. In fact, it’s quite the opposite – he looks unsure, disbelieving, and hesitant. To elicit such a reaction from this man should be recorded in the most prominent historical annals, but you do have to admit it’s a bad look on him.
When you open your mouth to say something, anything, the elevator begins its descent. Any words you had are wiped from your mind, and you do everything you can to maintain this staredown. Weeks ago, you couldn’t even begin to guess what this man would be feeling based on his eyes, but now? His heart is on his sleeve, and you can’t help the green envy in your veins at the possibility that others have seen him in such a vulnerable state.The constant battle between an illusional desire to be his everything and knowing that you never could and never should be, rages on.
You’re the first to look away. Sorry, Lumine, you think, as Alhaitham’s figure disappears from view. All you’re left with is the rotating orb above, spinning and spinning until it makes you sick to your stomach. You just want to get back to your apartment and start sweeping the dirt away, to return to some sense of normalcy before all of… this appeared. You never should’ve indulged in your whimsical desires.
-
Alhaitham hovers in a state of shock as he watches the elevator take you back down – after weeks of catching a glimpse of who he thinks is you at the cafe, hearing your voice in his head as he scribbles away on paperwork, or dreaming of escaping his duties to find you in Fontaine, he’s not sure if he really believes you were here or if it was some effective lucid dreaming. But the sudden pull, the impulsive need to just check the cover sheet when his name left your lips, was far too strong and he had dived right in without a second thought.
And there in your handwriting, in all its glory, was your name printed neatly at the bottom. One second, he was at his desk and the next, he was at the edge of the outer office ring for confirmation.
The last few minutes of his workday have never gone slower as he paces back and forth in front of his desk. He’s doing his best to stay calm and formulate a plan, but even that has become difficult for him. There are too many extraneous factors at play, several he can’t be sure of – did you meet someone new in Fontaine? Were you going to leave again?
Did you even want to see him?
You could’ve left without another word once your research paper landed in that return basket. He would’ve been none the wiser until he physically picked up the report, which probably wouldn’t have happened for another few days, what with all the cleaning up he’s trying to do before his resignation is official. All that lost time in between would have left him even more distraught.
But the fact that you had stopped and made a point to thank him, to call him out by name, means something. Like him, it seems you are just as unsure of where the two of you stand.
And that’s all he needs to move forward.
-
Granted, moving forward didn’t initially involve climbing up the fire escape ladder behind your apartment building.
With a takeout bag of your favorite foods from Lambad’s Tavern, he was originally going to knock on your front door like any other individual. But before his knuckles could rap against the Adhigama wood, he thought, why not check to see if you’re even home? That would eliminate the possibility of you seeing him through the peephole and then pretending you’re not home – or worse, you opening it and then slamming it back in his face.
His unparalleled logic led him to skip the ladder and jump onto the first floor. It’s not that he wouldn’t be able to climb it with one free hand – the food would’ve gotten messy with all the jostling around. He ignores the sound of laughing children as he ambles past, but allows the semblance of a grin to dawn his face when he hears, “Whoa, look at that mister!” Alhaitham looks above him as he climbs the next set of stairs, noticing a light peeking through the living room window. That’s one good sign, at least, because it means you’re home, right? He peers past the half-open curtains when he arrives at your floor. He’s just checking. Nothing suspicious or untoward. Yet all of that is scrapped— another deviation from his initial plan— when he sees you sitting on your couch, sorting through a pile of mail on your coffee table. With a mind of their own, his knuckles knock lightly against the glass and he can’t help but let a humorous snort slip out when your body jerked with a visceral startle, head whipping towards the source of your adrenaline spike.
You don’t need to verbally question his sudden appearance when it’s written all over your face. Your eyebrows are knitted and arched, mouth turned down in a slight frown, hands clenched in fists with visible tension and unease. “Alhaitham, what– I mean–”
He holds up the food behind the windowpane for you to see. “I wanted to bring you dinner since you probably don’t have anything prepared on your first night back.”
Without another word, you slide open the window, letting him clamber through as you take the bag from him. He retrieves it as you lock the window and yank the curtains together, setting it on the table away from a mound of what he presumes to be junk mail. You scramble for words and coherency as you search for clean plates and utensils, but the effort is fruitless. There’s a trapped shriek in your chest and you don’t know how to snuff it out.
Dinner is a quiet affair, save for some awkward small talk here and there. He makes it a point to give you extras, whether it be a little more mint cilantro or tamarind chutney for the samosas (despite it being his favorite) or more of the lamb from the biryani. Each little morsel pushes your heart further up your throat, further sending you into a downward spiral. Why is he so kind and caring when you had essentially kicked him out last time? Why is he going out of his way to make up for a wrong he never committed?
Alhaitham basks in your company, taking in every detail of your outward appearance. You seem skinnier than before, hair just a little bit longer. A few fresh, healing cuts on your hand stand out to him and he hopes they were all accidental and not intentionally created by another human being. There’s so much he wants to say and question, but for once he cannot find the right words. Rarely has he ever felt as though he was skating on paper-thin ice with someone – years of not caring or sparing thoughts for how others might perceive him lends nothing to resolve his state of incertitude. So the only way he can currently try to communicate is through actions, hence the extra foods and your favorite parts of them, making sure you have a usable napkin at all times, refilling your cup of water when it starts to look low, and more.
With a full belly, you sigh with satisfaction, a breath that appeases Alhaitham just the slightest bit. “That was good. Thank you for bringing it.”
“You’re welcome. Was the food in Fontaine not to your taste?”
You hum in thought. “A bit bland, honestly. Not as many spices are used in their foods like they are here.”
“Ah.”
The two of you sit silently for a few moments. You’re looking anywhere and at anything but him, your knee bouncing and hands wringing together. Is he trying to let you down easy? Soften the blow? What is his end goal?
His fingers tap the table in a silent rhythm, noticing that despite the small talk, the tension in the air is still viscous. He ignores the gnawing desire to hold your hand and squeeze it tight, to graze his thumb over those scabs and kiss them. He’s not ready to leave yet, which is why he juts his chin towards the only unopened bag on the table and says, “I also brought dessert. Would you care to have some now?”
No. Yes. I don’t know. I can think of something else I want for dessert but that’s not the point right now, is what runs through your head.
“Sure. What is it? I might have something to go with it.”
“It’s baklava.”
For him to remember that baklava from Pupusa Cafe is your preferred dessert when eating your favorite dishes is even more mind-boggling in this whole situation.
You stand on shaky legs and walk towards the pantry. “Does wine sound okay?”
Alhaitham ponders your last mutual experience with alcohol, which had ended in a disaster, even if he knew full well that it wasn’t a cause by any means; an unintended catalyst. As long as neither overindulged, it would be harmless. Right?
So he nods. “That sounds good.”
You return with a corkscrew opener, two stemless wine glasses, and one of your better bottles of aged wine. Alhaitham remains silent as he takes the opener from you and drives it into the cork, hand twisting the top knob with ease. You feel shameless in the way you stare at his arms, watching his muscles flex. The veins in his hand become more visible and you can see the tension in his forearm through his arm guards, all the more when he pushes the levers closed and wiggles the cork out of its confines. He takes good care to tactfully remove the cork and place it on the table, and pours a glass for you first.
“Thank you,” you murmur as you take it from him with both hands, ignoring the way his fingers seem to linger after making contact with yours. You portion out the baklava as he pours a glass for himself and he voices his gratitude in turn.
As you nibble on the delicacy, the silence weighs heavily on your chest, both a burden and a source of comfort. “Did you find everything you needed in Fontaine for your research?” he asks, once again attempting to make some neutral conversation. Alhaitham has never been one for sweets, but he’s willing to eat it for and with you. The cafe’s baklava is one of few desserts he can handle, as it’s not as sickeningly sweet as some other places’ when they’ve added too much syrup.
You chew slowly as you think of your answer. “I think so. I feel pretty good about my report.”
“I’ll be sure to read it soon,” he responds. After all, he is a pretty quick reader, and with the dwindling number of research project applications, he can efficiently get through the other reports to make sure he reviews yours before he goes back to being the Scribe.
“You know, there’s no need to rush on my account,” you say. Honestly, that’s the last thing you need because it would confirm your worst fears and assumptions. Everything discussed with Lumine would’ve been tossed violently out the window, and you so badly don’t want it to manifest.
“...I won’t,” he assures you. Alhaitham understands your research paper needs to be treated like every other one passing through the Akademiya, especially if he is going to be one of the formal reviewers.
You feel your lungs losing air, your heart rate soaring through the roof. With a stroke of luck, your glasses of wine are finished off and the plates hold nothing but crumbs, which provides a perfect excuse for you to get up and get away.
“I’m gonna wash the dishes,” you announce, voice doing little to hide how nervous and shaky you’re feeling. It’s another miracle that you don’t drop anything on the trek from the dining table to the sink as you wonder if you’ve killed any chance of being with Alhaitham. Where was the confidence you possessed when you first met the man?
Even being mere meters away from him becomes painful. His presence alone provides a sense of security, strong and silent. The lack of warmth, the string between you two pulled taut, ignites an obdurate yearning – the very same yearning experienced when you spent days avoiding the man prior to your departure for Fontaine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they all say, and there certainly was some merit to it.
The silence remains suffocating, in some ways, but also comforts you with its deep pressure, distracting you enough that you fail to notice Alhaitham moving around. He removes his cloak and earpieces, draping them neatly over the couch armrest before he comes to stand next to you at the sink. He grabs a towel and is ready to dry when you’re done washing the dishes. Your muscles begin to relax, that earlier frost of loneliness gradually dissipating with his presence nearby. He dries everything with the utmost care and lines them up neatly as you hand them over, and you ignore the little brushes of his fingers against yours with each relinquished plate. You can’t help but wonder if he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks because honestly, you feel like your face is on fire.
Alhaitham finishes drying off the last item – the second stemless wine glass – and turns to lean his back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He waits as you rinse down the sink and passes you the towel to dry off your hands. Your timid smile leaves him hopeful that you’re not visibly shying away from him— not visibly, at least. Seconds pass, and now there is nothing left for you to do or keep yourself busy. He waits for you to gather your bearings and settle to show that you’re ready to talk about… whatever this is.
Those haunting irises suddenly meet his with an alarming amount of determination, holding steadfast and searching his for something, anything. He can’t bear to lose and look away, not that he wants to. Yet you remain quiet, and Alhaitham leans into his impulses.
With firm, sure hands, he pulls you toward his original spot and lifts you up just enough so that you’re sitting on the counter. Alhaitham plants them by your waist and bends down to be level with your gaze, which now holds hints of fear and surprise. They’re open wide, your pupils slowly dilating, and he catches a glimpse of your fingers curling around the edges of the counter. He so badly wants to cradle your face in his hands, to feel your physical presence and prove to himself that you’re really here before him. But that is intimacy he hasn’t quite been granted yet and he can’t mess this up. He must’ve done something wrong the last time he was here, and he most certainly doesn’t want to risk the same outcome again.
“I like you,” he proclaims with a resolute tone. Alhaitham has always hated beating around the bush when unnecessary, and at this point he needs it said out loud for you to know. “I have been attracted to you since the moment we met, and I used to believe that it was purely a biological response. But then I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to learn more about who you are and how your mind works. To be quite honest, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being in my position right now. I will not hide the fact that I am selfish and want you all for myself, if you would have me.”
You are struggling so hard to keep the smile off your face, your mouth pursing while your teeth dig into the inside of your bottom lip. Three months ago, you would never have seen this coming, and you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they had suggested it.
“If you need time, I can wait. I am not always the most patient person, but for you, I am willing to do so. And–”
“I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me again after having sex,” you interject and confess. The embarrassment of your thoughts and actions quickly becomes a heavy weight in your chest. Your nerves strain to get the better of you and shut you down before saying more, but you force yourself to push past them. Alhaitham provided you with honesty and transparency, and he deserves the same from you. “We had so much tension between us and I was worried that once it was all resolved, you wouldn’t feel the need to see me again.”
Alhaitham takes a moment to process your words, but he can still see the tension in your shoulders. You won’t meet his gaze as you look past him or at other parts of his body. “There’s something else, is there not?”
You look down at your hands in your lap, your fingers intertwined and fingertips applying pressure where they land. With how forthcoming he has been, you owe it to him to extend the same courtesy, despite how silly it feels now.
“I couldn’t understand why you would even like me,” you say, voice soft and barely audible in the silence. You’re unable to mask the melancholy in your tone when you remember how it felt to internally question his affections and assume the worst. A quiet chuckle slips past your lips, but it’s derisive and bittersweet. “I’m just another scholar and you— you were the Scribe and later Acting Grand Sage. I thought maybe people would accuse me of… providing sexual favors, to put it lightly, if you showed me any leniency or favoritism in my academic career.”
The back of your knuckles brush against his cheek as you lift your head up to take him in. “You could have anyone in the world and you deserve nothing but the best. So why me?”
“I would need a few all-nighters and several pieces of paper to pen down every reason why.”
His quick reasoning with all indicators of certainty – his tone, the lack of any dishonesty in his eyes, the way he holds your eye contact – takes you for a loop. You’re only able to let out a soft “oh” as you let the implications of his words swim in your brain, leaving you helpless to find a suitable response. How do you follow up on an answer like that?
When he feels your fingers slipping down his jawline, he stops it with his own to press his cheek into your palm. “If it provides you any comfort, I will no longer be the Acting Grand Sage by next week. You know how long I’ve waited for them to process and approve of my resignation. And as the Scribe… it still does not matter. People who would assume something so salacious are simply capitalizing on their own insecurities, and they do not deserve a second of your time or an ounce of room in your thoughts. I do my best to exercise fairness and reason in all matters for the Akademiya, and even as my partner you would not be safe from that.
“I’ve never shied away from telling you how things are and you know this. I can ensure you would not earn any favoritism or leniency within the boundaries of the Akademiya, should my presence be involved in your research.”
The smirk that creeps up at the corner of his lips ignites a small flame in your belly – thrill and heat and trepidation all melding together. “Now, outside of those boundaries, it’s a different matter. If I may pry once more, what is your answer?”
Liquid fire pumps from your heart and into your veins, further fueling the heat in your core. Just as it dips dangerously lower, so does your hand, and the other joins in lightly scraping your nails down his abdomen. You feel him jump beneath your touch and relish in the sound of his swallow, and how his breath hitches when your fingertips dip into the band of his pants. They tug him forward until he’s standing between your thighs, just centimeters of nothingness between you two. Even as close as he is, Alhaitham can’t help but think there’s still too much space unoccupied.
Your eyes scream, beseeching him to understand your actions and for him to respond in kind. It can only mean one thing, but he wants to hear those words. He wants it engraved in his memories for the rest of time, despite the desperation to give in and give you both what you desire and need. Alhaitham grasps your chin between his thumb and curled index finger, leaning forward closer and closer until his lips barely touch yours.
“Use your words.”
Arousal seeps through your underwear as the subdued tenor of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Wholly unfair, this man is. Devilish, demanding, teasing, controlling – but most of all, he is yours.
“Please let me have you, if you will have me,” you whisper against his lips, eyelashes fluttering closed at the faint touch.
No sooner when you are greeted by darkness does he fully slot his mouth against yours, hands gripping tightly on your hips to pull you against him. A groan slips past and into you because gods, he’s missed this so much. After nights of waking up with the ghost of your kisses, he never wants this to end and longs for a reality where time can stop and he can take his sweet, sweet time to worship every millimeter of your body with his lips, and then some. Excitement electrifies his whole body when you reciprocate his desire ounce for ounce, and even more so when you let out a pretty little whine, just for him.
When he pulls back for a chance to breathe, he doesn’t move far. “Good girl,” he praises so sweetly, the words washing over you in something akin to pride for eliciting his approval and pleasing him. Alhaitham slides the tip of his nose against yours, moving to kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, your jawline, and the pulse point on your neck. Even the slightest pressure has you tilting your head to the side, granting him permission and room to do as he pleases. Alhaitham bides his time to press whispers of kisses onto your skin until he nips a sensitive spot. A sharp inhale pierces through the kitchen when he sucks on the patch of skin caught between his teeth, taking the utmost care to break the little capillaries underneath. He wants you to experience his phantom touches on these spots in the hours when he’s away from you, a constant reminder that you are his and his alone.
Your fingers dig into Alhaitham’s silver locks, torn between pressing him further into your neck and pulling him away. “Haitham,” you plead and tug on his strands, which only prompts an even harsher abrasion from him. “Wanna kiss you.” Your voice is breathy, and you feel as if you’re on the verge of tears. Who is he to deny such a reasonable request?
Though instead, he pulls you off the counter and rushes to your bedroom with you in tow, granting your wish as soon as you enter. The back of his knees hit the foot of your bed and Alhaitham drags you with him when he sits on top of your blankets. Despite your eagerness to clamber over and straddle him, he disapproves when you attempt to exercise a modicum of control over the situation by leveraging some height over him, utilizing gravity to lean into his embrace and kisses. His palms slide up your thighs with reverence until they dig into the crevice of your hips and yank them down. To have you pressed fully against him is most certainly a blessing, and there’s no way you don’t feel his growing arousal against yours.
When he feels his bottom lip stuck between your teeth, Alhaitham smiles. It still seems you’re not fully understanding the position you’re in. Perhaps, he might need to remind you of just who exactly is succumbing to who.
You keen when his hands dip underneath your shirt to draw meaningless patterns into your waist, but also to make his mark as he holds tight enough that you think you would feel some internal bruising tomorrow. They dance higher and higher, until they meet the bottom seam of your bra, and you nearly choke with the arousal suffocating your lungs.
“Can I?” Alhaitham almost begs, but watches for any sign of hesitation.
“Yes,” you breathe back. You lift your arms up, waiting with thinning patience, and he wastes no time in following through, tossing the shirt to the side with one hand as the other busies to unhook the metal clasp of your bra. Soon enough, your upper body is bare for him to see, to touch, to love – and his breath is taken away because you are so, so beautiful; perfect breasts with hardened nipples, an empty canvas all for him. He made a mistake last time for not seeing them properly, having been too focused on the way they felt against his chest instead.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs. His subsequent scoff feels derisive, sardonic, self-destructive, and his thumbs ghost over your areolas. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous – this is unfair.”
“You’re the one who’s unfair,” you retaliate with a shaky breath as you nearly tear off his shirt. One look at his muscular and toned frame, and it takes everything to stop the drool from spilling past your lips. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Be careful,” he warns, his fingers digging into the flesh just underneath your breasts. Alhaitham holds onto you as he scoots further back onto the bed, and once he deems there’s enough room, he rolls over until he’s hovering above you, panting and hair splayed and lips swollen. “I’m just a feeble scholar.”
When you roll your eyes with an excessive amount of sass, he dips down to capture your right nipple in his mouth and gives a harsh suck as punishment, satisfied when all defiance on your face morphs into pleasure. Pretty, responsive, little angel, all for him, so sweet, so delicate, so adorable when your spine arches into his mouth and continues to suspend itself as he pays his respects to your other breast. You feel your conscience become fuzzier and fuzzier, dissolving into mush as the tendrils of overstimulation begin to grow, and once again, you find yourself torn between wanting to let him continue and wanting him to stop.
He decides to grant you some mercy when you can’t help but twitch and shy away. Alhaitham’s primal desires begin to crest and wash away any rationale, desperate to keep the taste and feel of your skin between his lips and on his tongue. He doesn’t quite understand this newfound desire to nip and bite, but all he knows is that when he does, his arousal pulses and nearly threatens to break past the seam of his pants. Alhaitham moves lower, lower, ghosting past your stomach, nudging past the band of your bottoms and underwear to tug them down all the way. Those are thrown out of view and he finally, finally, gets to continue from where he last left off, taking no time to push your legs away towards your chest and give a lascivious lick up the length of your cunt. The tip of his tongue meets your clit at the end of its journey, and he firmly holds you down when your hips buck into his mouth as it circles the nub.
It’s game over when he takes it fully in his mouth.
Your hands twist themselves once more into his silver hair, expletives slipping off your tongue as you chase your high. You feel your pussy clench around nothing the higher you climb, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. He eats you out like a man starved, enthusiasm unveiled and clear. His passion unbridled and sending you further into the clouds, you feel tears in your eyes begin to well up from sheer bliss, so sensitive and so unbelievably unprepared for everything this man was going to give you tonight. “Haitham,” you cry over and over, his name a mantra and prayer.
When he leans back, you catch a glimpse of the sheen on his chin and the way his eyes remain focused on your arousal, pupils blown. “You taste so good,” he compliments, his voice somehow having dropped an octave lower. “Could eat you out for hours. So good for me, fuck.” It’s dangerous how much you love to hear him curse, knowing that you are the reason why. The rational, feeble, well-spoken scholar, his prose extending to situations such as now, is almost reduced to such crude and filthy vocabulary.
Alhaitham would need to be blind to miss your sticky precum practically spilling from your core after what he said. It’d be a shame to let any of it go to waste, he muses, as he drags his tongue up the length of your cunt and pays attention to your clit again. He watches for every reaction, what makes you tug him closer, what makes your body twitch and convulse, what causes the shakiest exhales from your lungs, what contributes to your squeals and cries – he wants you to get a taste of just how unhinged he becomes in your presence.
Each moment of friction, so wet and slick, against your core seems to send you further and further into oblivion. Tears overflow when your heart bursts and Alhaitham doesn’t miss them – the sheen sliding down the sides of your face shines in the moonlight and he knows there is no reason to fear you’re in pain. He drinks in your moans and feels your fingers tangle further in his silver strands, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, your hips with a mind of their own as you grind against his tongue and nose to chase your release. Alhaitham pays no mind to the way his cock twitches once more in his pants or the unmistakable wet spot that’s formed from his own precum.
The coil in your abdomen wounds tighter and tighter. There is nothing on your mind but the man between your legs and your impending orgasm, one with an intensity you haven’t experienced in ages. “ ‘m close,” you gasp and meet his burning gaze. “Please, wanna cum – yes – please, sir–”
How he doesn’t cum in his pants at the title is beyond his comprehension, but the stroke to his ego is welcoming, to say the least. Alhaitham never felt any type of way when others addressed him as so, sometimes annoyed even, but from you? It is everything. A verbal indication of relinquishing your power to him, your existence at its highest vulnerability, the underlying respect, the implicit trust hidden between three letters – only has him pushing down harder against your thighs, leaving no room for you to fight. The resolve and determination to have you cum on his tongue only increases and his thoughts plunder further into hell. Cum for me, cum on my tongue, let me taste your release that I give you, so fucking addictive – his silent commands painted on your tight bundle of nerves.
With Alhaitham exercising a dizzyingly sinful strength against you, leaving you helpless and defenseless, you let yourself succumb as your heart rate increases. Your breathy warnings and pleas, the oh fuck!s, the whimpering sir!s, confessions of love on the tip of your tongue – you have one minute, moment of clarity when your body freezes, and the coil snaps.
You don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard before, reality-shattering, nerves on overdrive, your body trembling beneath his palms as you ride out the pleasure for as long as you can. The quiet scream from your lungs is inevitable as it dissolves into sobs and Alhaithm follows you when your hips buck. There’s not enough oxygen for you and you can feel the visceral clenching of your abdomen as you fight for air and some semblance of control again – but that flies out the window when, for the first time tonight, Alhaitham slides his tongue inside your quivering cunt.
Said Scribe cannot help but groan, and he wishes he’d done this earlier. To feel your creamy walls squeeze as his taste buds slide amongst them, your keening ringing in his ears, the shaking of your thighs a prisoner between his fingers, the intoxicating taste of your cum – all of it is more than he could have ever dreamed of. Right where he wants you, and all his, his, his.
The incessant tugging of his hair tells him to stop for now, as much as he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d have you cumming on his tongue for hours, his hard cock be damned. But your convulsions of overstimulation manage to generate the slightest bit of sympathy and he laments when pulling away. His eyes hone in on the way your pussy contracts around nothing, almost begging for something to fill you again. “Good girl,” he praises, tenor delicate and charming, as he rubs gentle circles on your abdomen in an attempt to ground you. There are stars in your eyes, and he waits for you to come back to him.
You barely register Alhaitham’s hand on your body as you stare up at the ceiling, brain and soul somewhat disconnected due to the high of your orgasm. So good to me, your thoughts coo. Haitham, sir, how can I show my gratitude to him?
“Y/N,” and at last, you make eye contact with him. He preens at the blissed out look on your face and moves forward until he’s lying next to you, his weight supported on one arm while the other brushes away your baby hairs. A dreamy smile graces your lips, and he can’t help but lean forward for a soft kiss. Languid, sensual, pliant – several minutes fly by as you bask in each other’s presence until the need for more begins to bloom again. Alhaitham lets out a chuckle when he feels your hand wandering down his frame until it rests on his crotch. Making out with you has kept him semi-hard, and he’s happy you’re taking the initiative. Not that you’re in control, by any means, but it’s cute that you might think so.
Your mind reels from just how big he feels beneath your palm. You can’t deny the times when you’ve sneaked glances at his crotch, his tight pants outlining a slight bulge from day to day – but you never thought your fingers would be splayed so far apart, and you just know they would struggle to meet when gripping his length. Your whines reach his ears as you fumble with the clasp above the zipper, and Alhaitham is so kind, kind enough to take over and do it for you. Seconds later, his pants and underwear join the pile of forgotten clothes, and you immediately look down at what you’ve been waiting for.
The instant pooling of saliva in your mouth is embarrassing, shame and lust spilling into your chest and through your veins. Alhaitham’s cock is so beautiful, just like the rest of him, and you’ve never wanted something in your mouth so bad. It twitches under your reverent gaze, and the tip glistens with his precum. Even the noticeable veins drawn along his length are beautiful, and his balls seem to be engorged, heavy with cum. You prove your earlier hypothesis when you hold it in your hand, and your fingers truly do not meet around the circumference. A gush of slick leaks and paints your inner thighs, your hand seemingly tiny in comparison as you slowly stroke him.
Alhaitham hisses at your touch, so cold against the heat of his cock. There’s a passing thought of wanting to keep that fawning look on your face at all times, the metaphorical hearts in your eyes with his dick in your hand. In a moment of weakness, the thought begins to spiral into darker fantasies, how to keep you hooked and dependent on him, his cock, his mouth, his touch. A flash of a daydream crosses by of him sitting in his office chair, you on your knees between his legs, his shaft bullied deep in your throat as you keep it warm for him, drool and spit spilling from the corner of your lips, so submissive and desperate for him to fuck your face–
Your thumb glosses over his frenulum and he is ripped from his reverie. At risk of cumming too quickly, he thinks of how to keep your soft hands away for now. What can he use? How can he restrict you?
Ah.
Confused whimpers follow after him when he abruptly stands up from your bed and walks over to the pile of discarded clothes. You miss the warmth of his body next to you, goosebumps from the sudden chill rising on your skin. But before you can begin to chase after him, he returns to sit on the bed and beckons for you to sit up for him.
He loves how willing you are to obey him, your eyes wide and a little awestruck as you follow his gesture – almost as if he were your puppeteer. Alhaitham holds out his hands in front of him, palms facing the ceiling, and you match the posture with intrigue painted across your face. As you wait, clarification comes to you when he reveals the patterned, teal sash that usually encompasses his hips. Slow, deliberate movements as he wraps the cloth around your wrists (in case you don’t want it because he would never force you to do anything you were uncomfortable with), indicate this uncharted territory. And when the tie is made and the knot is pulled tight, you look up at him.
“Is this okay?” He asks. When you give a mute nod, he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Words, Y/N.”
“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Yes, sir, it’s okay.”
Alhaitham watches as you lay back until your head meets the pillow, and your bound wrists lay prettily above your head. Your constrained and exposed body greets him. He sees your eyes strain to catch another glance at his cock, and the smirk on his lips is nothing but smug as he gives it a few quick pumps as a gift to you.
“Can you come here?” You plead because you know there’s no room to make any demands, and it’s his turn to be curious. Nevertheless, he resumes his original position by your side, but you shake your head. You can tell he doesn’t know what’s happening, but you are feeling shameless and powerless, at the mercy of this man, and you want him to really, really, drive that point deeper.
“Can you…straddle me? Like above my chest though?”
If this is going where Alhaitham thinks it’s going, he might just abandon the Akademiya altogether, whisk you away to his house, kick out Kaveh and have him live in your apartment instead, and keep his own doors locked for eternity. He does as you ask as he thrums in excitement, his cock weighty and leaking when you’re satisfied with where he is.
Time slows to a crawl as he watches you lift your head up with your pretty mouth open and take the tip of his cock between your glossy lips.
The tight heat is maddening, a strangled “fuck” falling off his tongue, and you push forward to take more of his length in your mouth. So dutiful and loyal, you have proven yourself, as you suck his cock with your eyes closed and moans vibrating around him. Given certain physical limitations, there’s only so much you can take in, which is where he believes it’s his time to act his part. He places a hand on the back of your skull to provide you some relief, but also to sink deeper down your throat. Naturally, you fall back until it’s just the head between your lips again, but he is right there to drag you back towards him and fill your depraved mouth.
“Look at you,” he hisses, controlling your pace. Such a good little fucktoy, no? “Who knew you would want my cock so badly? For me to sit on top and watch as you struggle to even take half of it in your mouth? I don’t think you have any idea of what you’ve started. Your lips are stretched so wide, but just wide enough for me to fit perfectly in between them, like it was made for me. Maybe that’s what it is.” His perverse thoughts run wild without any composure or filter, and he is unable to hold it in. “You were made for me and my cock, and– oh fuck – it seems like you love the idea of being my personal cocksleeve.”
Your eagerness to please him increases as you strain to take more in, his tip slipping into and catching the back of your throat. The sound of you choking on his cock rings in your ears, sending you further and further into oblivion. Every word from Alhaitham sounds true, and he’s right – right that maybe you were specifically made for him, his own blessing from the Archons, and right that you deeply, painfully, love the idea of letting him use you as he wishes. A garbled cry, followed by more sticky release dripping from your cunt, doesn’t go unnoticed when his voice sounds ragged on the word “cocksleeve.” It’s a lascivious tone of accord and approval, and your tears flow when he pulls you as far down his length as your quenched throat allows, your chained wrists resting atop your skull, and he keeps you there.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. “I have no objections to fully commit to being yours, your sir. But you must understand I expect the same commitment in return. This cock is yours,” Alhaitham promises, relishing in your muffled whimper of agreement. “And you are mine. My,” – a pause – “personal, depraved, slut.”
At first, he worries he might have gone too far with such a derogatory term, but they are all dashed aside when he watches your eyelids flutter closed and eyes roll into the back of your head. A long whine sends him into overdrive, and even more so when you try to fit more of his cock down your throat. Expletives slip from his tongue as he pulls you away completely, a tendril of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, your mouth still wide open while gasping for air. He sees your own tongue peek out and rest on your bottom lip, pliant and waiting for him to return.
Alhaitham lets go of your skull and watches you fall back to your pillow. He moves your tied hands above and over your head until they settle right above your belly button. The position allows him to trap your arms beneath him and move just a little further up the bed for the bottom half of his length to weigh heavily on your eager mouth. It remains open as he drags his shaft along your tongue, teasing you by slipping the head of his cock in your mouth. Your lips immediately close around it, but they are no match for when he pulls away, and you’re left empty once again.
“Truly a cockslut,” he chides as his hand takes a hold of his length and smacks it against your tongue. “You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you?” And he smirks when you nod, still beckoning, still waiting. “You’ve done well for me so far. Perhaps I should give you a gift.”
There’s little time to regain your senses when he shoves his length in until it hits the back of your throat once more and grabs onto your headboard. Just that angle gives him enough leverage to fuck your face as he pleases.
“If your mouth is this tight, I can only imagine what your cunt will feel like on my cock,” he grits out. Your brain goes numb as you take it all in, content and satisfied to please Alhaitham. You focus on making sure your teeth don’t drag against his skin, tongue swiping patterns and circles around his cock when possible. “I’ll need to take my time stretching out your tiny pussy, won’t I? Fuck, need to make it fit inside you. Isn’t that right?”
Alhaitham pretends to be dissatisfied with your moan, all garbled and thick with drool. “How many times do I need to tell you to use your words?” He teases, knowing full well there’s no way for you to form any right now. But a wicked, joyous laugh rings in your ears when he can tell you’re attempting to do it anyways. It goes straight down his dick and into his balls, and as they tighten further, he knows he’s close.
You don’t know how it’s possible for him to grow any thicker, but somehow it happens when his pace increases, and he tells you, “I’m going to cum, okay? Going to give you all my cum, make you my cumslut. You want to be my cumslut, you’re doing so well, so perfect, letting me fuck your mouth. Shit, cumming, cumming –!”
At the very last second, he pulls out and furiously pumps his cock, shifting back just in time for his cum to paint your breasts. “Fuck!” He growls and rides out the high until there’s nothing left to give you, blinding light beneath his eyelids before he snaps them open so he can watch you become covered by his release. Viscous, white ropes paint over you, some even landing on your cheek and neck. His chest heaves and his eyes remain unfocused from the fog in his brain.
That is, until he watches you swipe his cum from your neck with your fingers before it drips onto the bed, and place them in your mouth. Your sigh screams content as you lick them clean, and as far as he can tell, you’re enjoying the taste of him – as if he was the one to sate your thirst rather than the other way around. In a trance, he joins you in your meal by feeding you more with his own appendages, and his dick returns to half-mast once all the cum is visibly gone and slid down your throat.
“Thank you for your cum,” you say, your voice dreamy and euphoric. Alhaitham pulls you by your bound wrists again until you’re sitting up close enough, and buries his head into your shoulder, embedding his own kisses of gratitude into your skin. It doesn’t matter that there’s dried spit on your chin and your hair is a mess – you’re still so incredibly stunning to him.
To look into your eyes, to cradle your face in his palm, to ghost his thumb over your cheekbone, how lucky he is to be in a position to even ask you, “Was that okay?”
“Very,” you smile, unabashed and clearly happy with everything that had just happened. A small giggle slips out as well.
“Good,” he murmurs after kissing your forehead. “Would you be open to one more round? It seems I haven’t gotten enough of you.”
You see the evidence of his claims, how his cock gradually grows and rises under your watchful stare. His earlier words of needing to stretch you out before he can fuck you play in your head, and they remind you of just how wet you are. Still tied up, you scoot back away from him until you can stretch your legs out, parted to reveal what you so desperately wanted to touch as his dick was lodged in your mouth. Alhaitham’s pupils dilate and zero in on the mess between your thighs, and he chases after you to spread your legs farther.
“You became this wet from me fucking your mouth?” His fingers slide against the folds of your puffy cunt, your clit peeking out and swollen. “Tsk, all this pre gone to waste,” and you whimper when his nails barely graze that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. There’s no resistance when he works his middle finger inside you and your breath hitches. He turns his wrist as he fingers you, creating more and more arousal coursing through your veins. Alhaitham is proud that one finger of his affects you so. You whine and reach for him with grabby hands, managing to latch onto his wrist so he can keep his appendages buried inside you. “My my,” he teases, and his fingers curl, searching and searching until his fingertip taps against the exact spot that makes your back arch.
“You’re so eager to be filled,” Alhaitham taunts as he lubes up his ring finger with your slick. You feel even tighter when it slips in with his middle finger, and he finds that spot again in no time, already having memorized where it is. “You don’t have my permission to cum yet,” he warns, a decision just made when your walls are really beginning to clench around him.
“B-but–”
A third finger joins in, cutting you off from any protesting. “You either cum on my cock or not at all,” he offers and you think it’s beyond cruel. Why can’t you cum on his fingers and his cock?
With every last thread of your existence, you stamp down the growing desire to cum again. It feels like hours have passed, your sanity barely intact, when Alhaitham hums, just loud enough to be heard amongst your moans and whines. “I’m beginning to question whether I truly am too big for you,” he contemplates out loud. “What do you think, Y/N?”
It’s so hard to answer his question when you’re using everything else inside you to not break around his fingers. The depraved squelching of your slick only adds fuel to the fire in your core, and you’re trying to think, you really are–
The friction ceases, and before you can even address it, there’s a light, punishing slap across your clit. “Fuck,” you whimper, throat dry.
“Answer my question. Do you think I might not fit inside you?”
You know what answer he’s looking for. You know he wants you to surrender to his hidden intentions, that, “It doesn’t matter,” and you swallow. “I will…make it fit.”
In turn, he removes his fingers with care, but leaves you horribly empty with the void expanding into your chest. “Do you have a condom?” Alhaitham asks while looking around your bedroom.
“The bottom drawer on the right in the bathroom.”
Your sir leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I will return soon.”
For the seconds that you try to catch your breath, to calm your beating heart, to ignore the vacuity between your legs, you realize just where you are and who you’re with. You haven’t had much of a clear mind since the second he knocked on your window, caught up in the whirlwind of your nerves and paranoia – and then to have it turned on its head where you now lay in your bed, free of any prior anxiety, and drown in your lust.
Alhaitham wanders back into your room, focused on the package in his hand. Shameless and perverse, your eyes drink in his length, bobbing with each step. Even you’re beginning to doubt your ability to take him all in, but the anticipation, the threads of excitement that you may be filled again clouds over everything else.
“Hold your legs for me,” he commands gently, and you obey once he unties the sash around your wrists. Your arms hook beneath your knees so that everything is displayed and exposed to him. He sets the condom to the side when he shuffles closer so his hips meet the bottom of your thighs. Your breath hitches when he presses his cock onto your abdomen, and it pleases both of you so much to see that his tip just about reaches your belly button. “Look at how deep it’ll be inside you,” he coos, your whine following. “But it’s okay if you can’t take it all, you can’t help it that your little cunt is so tight.”
There’s a twinge of faux disappointment in his words. As if on instinct, you shake your head in vehement disagreement. “I’ll make it fit, sir, I promise,” you gasp and pull your legs closer to you. “We have to make it fit.”
“Mmm, my eager cocksleeve,” he responds with mirth, his regales washing away the panic from your system. You wait with bated breath as he grinds the underside of his entire length against your glistening folds, purposely catching onto your clit when possible. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand the torture, becoming wetter and wetter with each glide. “The color system is okay to check in with you?”
“Yes.”
He nods and leans back so the tip of his cock is just outside your entrance. His fingers roll and stretch the condom down his length. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to tear his gaze away from your core so he can obtain your consent to start, and the determined nod he receives sets his heart aflame.
A sinful perversion enters his mind as he watches your messy cunt split open and stretch over the head of his cock. He thinks about the future and wonders when the day will be for you to be in his lap and sink down his cock with no hesitation. His thumbs spread your folds further apart so he can get a better look, his lustful illusions from many lonely nights finally coming into play. Your breathy gasp when the head pops in is alluring, and he craves more of it. That perversion echoes its lack of satisfaction, that this is not enough, and he needs it all. Pride fills his chest as you take the first few inches with no problem, trying to take deep breaths as he continues to bully his way into your pussy.
Though internally, your mind is on the verge of breaking from how thick Alhaitham is. The emptiness from earlier has long been fulfilled, and you take a look to see that he’s barely fit half oh him inside you, and you already feel so full.
You were made for me.
I was made for him, you remind yourself, rationality thrown out the window because serving Alhaitham is all that matters in this moment. He’s giving you his cock, taking his time for you, providing a subtle reminder of just who you will belong to from here on out. Alhaitham has been so kind to you, you think. The least you could do is to be his good little slut, so eager and always yearning for him.
“You’re doing so well,” Alhaitham praises, though his voice chokes. You’re terribly tight around him, so much so that he wonders if he would even be able to pull out once he’s buried all of himself inside you. It wouldn’t be much of a problem, he thinks, to have you stuck on his cock for eternity, fucked dumb with nothing on your mind but him and pleasure. His hand puts the slightest pressure on your abdomen, but it’s enough for you to break with an “oh!”
“Fuck, I can almost feel myself inside you,” he marvels. “Color?”
It takes you a few seconds to process his question. “Green,” falls off your tongue with a whimper. But the bit of hesitation is enough for Alhaitham to stop in his tracks.
“Y/N, look at me.”
A dreamy hum on your lips, your blown out eyes meet his, and he realizes how far gone you are. “We can stop, it’s okay if we do.” But that may have been the wrong thing to say because your face falls, tears prickling your eyes. “I can do it,” you sniffle. “Please, sir.”
There is no way for him to remain unaffected by the way you address him, but he ensures to take extra care for the last few inches.
“You’re doing so well, taking all of me in. You’re keeping your promise, I’m so proud of you,” Alhaitham coos. The bottom of his shaft is just a little bit thicker, and you let out a happy squeal when your cunt stretches as much as it can to accommodate him. His tip barely grazes your cervix, and through your floaty thoughts, you almost wish it was deeper. The groan from Alhaitham as he bottoms out provides you comfort. It can only mean that you’re making him feel good, and that you did manage to have him fit inside you. So pleased with yourself, your pussy clenches around him and coaxes for more, for his cum.
If Alhaitham didn’t have better control of himself, he would’ve cum right then and there. Buried deep inside you, warm velvety walls sucking him in – it’s hard to believe that this is really happening. The person he loves is in his arms, joined with him in the most intimate way known to mankind. He never wants to leave you, leave this, yet his cock begs for friction. Your adorable whine of protest as he slides out a couple inches beckons him to return, and return he does as you let out a sound of pure satisfaction.
“Loveyou,” your words slurred together and fuzzy. “Love, love your cock, please, wan’ more, please?”
Archons, how are you so perfect for him? Alhaitham sets a steady, moderate pace and focuses on you, ensuring that you’re okay and pleased. It seems there’s a permanent grin on your face, even when you gasp or scream, and he’s determined to keep it there. When you seem completely accustomed to his pace, his strokes become longer and more indulgent. “Fuck,” you cry each time he fills you up with more and more of his cock with each stroke. His thumbs rub circles into your clit and drive you closer to your peak – you don’t know if you’re ready to cum yet, or if you want this to end. You don’t, but you’re so close–!
“Such a good girl for me – your little cunny was really made for my cock. There’s no one else for me, just you, pretty girl,” he breathes, seeing the hesitation on your face as your walls clench tighter than before. “I know you’re gonna cum soon, I want to see you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”
Anything he asks for, you would go to great lengths to give him what he wants. So if he wants you to cum, then you have to. You nod with a pout on your face, but Alhaitham leans forward, pushing your legs back further as he reaches to kiss the pout away. “That’s my good girl, so perfect.”
He pulls out completely, but why?
Alhaithm grabs and maintains eye contact with you for two agonizing seconds, and then commands you to, “Cum for me.”
And you do just that when he slams his entire length inside you as soon as those words leave his lips.
Alhaitham basks in your scream and sobs, your body convulsing and trembling beneath him, your walls an impossible vice around his cock. He grinds against you to go as deep as he can, “fuckfuckfuck”, and a growl buried in your neck as he cums. In your high, you think you can feel the heat and its spasms of it all, passively wondering what it would feel like to have him cum inside you without a condom. Perhaps one day you’ll be granted a nice little breeding session, but that is neither here nor there.
Alhaitham plants pecks and kisses all over your face, neck, and shoulders, smiling when your little giggles reach his heart. If anything, he’s just happy that everything turned out okay and didn’t end up in a disaster like last time. As he observes the serenity gracing your complexion, he cannot contain his affection any longer.
“Thank you…for having me.” I love you.
Another giggle. “I love you, too, Haitham. A lot.”
You’re kindly gifted a most adoring eskimo kiss. “I need to get you cleaned up, so I need to pull out, okay?”
The pout returns despite your agreement, and Alhaitham spends much needed time to pull out without you breaking. The devil on his shoulder protests otherwise, as it attempts to coax him into keeping you speared on his cock for the night, or more. Your whine of loss tugs at his heartstrings and feeds into his greed, and he embraces you once more to keep you grounded. Slowly, but surely, you return to your senses. Alhaitham is heavy and sweaty against you, but it’s more than you could ask for. A few taps on his shoulder are enough to tell him that you’re back on the same plane of reality with him, and he dives in to kiss you again, painting compliments and praises of how amazing you were along your lips.
Alhaitham then sweeps you off the bed, into his arms, and takes hurried steps towards the bathroom. You’re like a delicate flower with the way he places you on the toilet, and he reminds you of the importance of peeing after sex. Your privacy is granted when he leaves to remove and tie off the condom to discard it in the kitchen trash can, and later returns with a warm, wet towel. He waits until you’re back in bed and comfortable before he tenderly wipes away any excess fluids and leaves it on your nightstand before cuddling next to you. You turn towards him and burrow into his chest, content as his arms embrace you with an air of security and protection.
He mumbles something into your hair, but you’re out before you can even think to ask what he said.
-
When you finally come to, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well. No tiresome dreams, no sporadically waking up in the night – weeks out in the nature with Lumine had turned you into a light sleeper, and you missed this feeling of being so well-rested.
But the soreness in your thighs screams otherwise, and you wince when they refuse to cooperate. A muscular arm rests around you as if it has always belonged there. At first you question why it’s there, but then your brain decides to wake up and remind you just exactly of what transpired last night. Despite the mixture of shock and embarrassment (mainly at just how wanton you acted), you look up from where you are buried into Alhaitham’s chest. Somehow, you’re surprised to see him already awake. Well, surprised may not be the right word. But the clear adoration in his eyes is unmistakable, seizing and pulling on your heartstrings.
Alhaitham quite enjoys watching you think and process, imagining the fine-tuned gears and cogs in your brain working in overdrive. He remains silent as he smooths out some of the tangles in your hair, and he patiently waits to hear from you. You two had already experienced many hours of quietude before, so this was nothing new for him. There are very few moments in his life when he’s felt this serene and content, half-naked and you pressed against him, both drinking in each other and the light of day coming from your window. He could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.
“You’re making me breakfast in bed,” you decide with your first words of the day, grumbling with a pout on your face. “I don’t think I can walk properly.”
The former scribe arches a perfect silver brow, but the shit-eating smirk stretching along his face is anything but confusion. He knows exactly what you’re implying, and he’s quite satisfied with himself for causing such a situation. Perhaps he should do it more often.
“That I can do,” he agrees, his morning voice deep, yet full of mirth. After a quick kiss on your forehead, he rolls out of bed to do just as you command.
The growl from your stomach prevents you from calling him back because you’re cold now. A shiver runs down your spine as you tighten the blanket and sheet around you, tucking some beneath your chin in an attempt to trap whatever warmth you have left. But when you catch a hint of Alhaitham’s lingering scent, you feel yourself immediately calm down and breathe evenly. The gentle cluttering from your kitchen provides another layer of security as well.
Lost in your basking, you’re quite startled when you feel Alhaitham’s lips on your cheek, a tray in his hands with a light, yet nutritious breakfast arranged. But as you continue to lay there, he can’t help but laugh.
“Do you need help sitting up?”
“No.”
“Don’t be stubborn.”
You do, in fact, need his strength to sit up comfortably against some pillows. The embarrassment hasn’t quite worn off by the time he slides back underneath the sheets to sit next to you, an arm slung over your shoulders as you eat. But in seconds, it dissipates, and is replaced with something akin to love. For you both to finally be here, together as if you two have been dating for years, is exactly the outcome you have been wishing for.
“You know,” he starts before being interrupted by a forkful of food shoved into his mouth, courtesy of you. “You’re a perfect reason why I can finally kick Kaveh out of my home.”
You swat his shoulder with your free hand. “That’s so mean!”
“He can just move in here. I’m not that heartless to leave him homeless. Is that what you think of me?”
You answer without hesitation, “Yes.”
With the hand hanging off your shoulder, his nails scrape lightly in retaliation against the skin beneath your collar bone.
“If I recall, I was pretty fair with you last night,” he murmurs into your hair. “Perhaps I need to remind you just how fair when you’re done with breakfast.”
And you’ve never finished a meal so quickly.
fin.
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Future Milf, part two.
part one!
paring: melissa schemmenti x reader.
summary: after the incident in the teacher's lounge, you start to avoid melissa who is willing to know what happened and trying to get things back to normal.
warnings: just a little angst but trust me, we have a happy ending!
author notes: This is a little rushed, but I hope you all enjoy this second part 🤍 I also wanted to thank the beautiful people who are sending requests for Mel, they are amazing and i'm already working on them! And don't worry, feel free to send any idea that comes to mind. It will be an honor for me to turn them into reality.
tags: @esposadejoyhuerta @gweninred @moistblobfish
English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes!
The truth was that Melissa was completely disoriented, her brain trying to process what had happened in the last seven minutes. You acting like that and apologizing, leaving the room as quickly as possible made her worried as hell.
All she wanted was to comfort you and know what was really happening. There were a lot of doubts in her mind, to be honest. Had she done something? Or said something? The way you couldn't look into her green eyes was so strange..
Everything between you two was great until today, and then it all suddenly fell apart at lunchtime? That made her feel a little paranoid.
“Melissa, are you well? Are you hurt?” Barb asks.
“I don't know,” she said, staring into nothing, worrying her friends, “I just need to check on her.” The redhead gets up and runs to start looking for you.
“MELISSA! WAIT!” the entire Abbott crew screams, but she completely ignores it.
She stops in front of your classroom and notices that the door is locked. The lights are off, but Melissa knows you're in there.
“Sweetheart, please let me in,” she knocks gently, “I am not mad with ya. Don't worry about it, I just want to know how you are.” The older woman adds, almost begging for you to open the door.
Locked inside your classroom, you were sitting on the floor. Curled up hugging your knees, trying to find some comfort while crying. The whole situation was so fucking stupid, of course. But it still left you overwhelmed and on the verge of an anxiety attack.
So lending Melissa the future milf t-shirt made you completely lose your mind? Wow, you really were a stupid person. Stupid. That word stuck in your brain and made you cry even more.
Hearing your quiet sobs made the redhead's heart break into pieces. The thought of her doing something that made you hurt was utterly painful. The truth was that Melissa would blame herself for the rest of her life if she had made you feel bad in any way.
“Hon, c'mon. Let me—” she started.
“Don't. Melissa, please. Just go away, I need to be alone,” you interrupt her, hoping she would understand that you didn't have the strength to say anything else.
Before walking away, she whispers loud enough for you to hear. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. But please, promise me you'll be okay.” The redhead said trying to wipe away the small tears that threatened to fall from her face.
“I'll be fine. Now go.” You growl, unaware that your words have fully gotten to her.
—
It had been a while since Melissa changed her mood so quickly. She had learned to control her emotions, thanks to you, who helped her notice that it was okay to show them from time to time and it wasn't shameful at all. But at that moment everything seemed useless.
Her legs were shaking slightly and she kept tapping her fingers on the desk, while trying to focus on correcting some of the children's homeworks. It was clear that Melissa was almost having a huge panic attack.
Ashely, who was now scrolling through her cell phone boredly after making sure the students were doing their activities calmly and in silence, noticed the sudden change in the redhead and her eyebrows raised in confusion.
“What’s the matter, boss? You seem a little quiet since lunch time. Which is strange ‘cause earlier you were all excited and—”
The older woman rolls her eyes. “Nothing happened. I'm fine,” she responds, clenching her teeth, “everything is ok, kid.”
“Are you sure? I know we’re not that close, but if you need to vent, I’m all ears.” The girl shrugs.
Melissa's eyes widen, her aide was really willing to give her some advice? Normally, Ashley didn't tend to be very serious. When she tried to help, the girl always ended up saying things that were a bit nonsense. But this time, she was here ready to be a shoulder to lean on.
“Y/n..” she started but quickly corrected herself, not quite ready to confide the crush she had on you to anyone else than Barbara. “Today, a strange thing happened between me and a friend that honestly left me completely confused.”
“Oh. Do you have any idea what might have happened?”
Melissa stops for a moment, trying to get her head to work and think of a reason that could explain what had happened between the two of you.
“I-I can't explain it properly...everything was normal between us and when lunch time came...” the teacher stuttered, “she could barely look at me and when I told her to act like a real adult and tell me what was happening, she panicked and ran away.”
“After that you were able to talk to her?”
“Kinda, but she told me to leave her alone.”
Ashley gives her a pitying look, she knew who Melissa was referring to. Anyone who works at Abbott would know. “I'm sorry this happened boss, but I'm sure things will get better between you and her. Just give her a little time.”
Melissa nodded and smiled. “Thanks for the advice, hon.”
“Anytime boss, anytime.”
—
Changing my life with the wave of her hand.
Nobody can deny that there's something there.
There.
Running my hands through her hair.
Both of us thinking how good it can be.
Someone is speaking, but she doesn't know he's there.
The melody of Here, There And Everywhere by The Beatles echoed throughout the kitchen directly from the small radio on the balcony, while Melissa prepared dinner.
This was one of the many songs she always wanted to dedicate to you, the redhead dreamed of dancing with her arms around you, after a busy day at school while this song played. Just the two of you, enjoying each other's company.
Was it quite cliché? Of course it was, even for the one and only Melissa Schemmenti. But to be honest, she didn't care how it sounded.
The older woman was so in love with you that she thought of endless romantic scenarios every day. After what happened today, every one of them seemed distant. But she still had a simple hope within her.
“Watching her eyes, and hoping I'm always there,” she sings passionately, while cutting the tomatoes perfectly, “I want her everywhere, and if she is beside me. I know I need never care, but to love her is to need her everywhere.” Melissa closes her eyes for a moment, thinking about you.
On the way out, she looked for you in the Abbott parking lot but was unsuccessful, she was waiting for a message from you, saying that you had arrived home safely like you always did.
But you didn't send her anything.
A feeling ran through her body. It was as if the redhead was losing the most precious thing in her life. Desperate, Melissa picked up her cellphone that was leaning on the living room table and went to check on you. Screw the advice Ashely gave earlier, she couldn't wait anymore.
Hon, are you feeling better? I hope so. By the way, did you manage to get home safely?
Sorry if I sound desperate, but I need to know if things are ok.
Y/n? Please answer me.
Her heart breaks into pieces when she sees that you just viewed the message and didn't even make the effort to reply back. For fuck’s sake, what had she done that was so serious? Nothing made sense anymore.
Just a few blocks away, you were lying on the couch and drinking an entire bottle of vodka, pretending like you didn't care about not responding to Melissa's messages. It was immature, but it seemed to make sense to you. Since this whole milf situation was a complete disaster, ignoring her seemed right.
Of course, inside you felt like a monster, knowing that the redhead didn't deserve this. But what you could do?
“I’m ready to open another bottle and listen to a two-hour-plus loop of Chamber of Reflection,” you say, making Ava sigh.
The principal had stopped by your house hours ago to check on you and when she saw the miserable state you were in, she decided to stay there for a while. And tried to comfort you (in the most Ava Coleman way possible.)
“Y/N. Come on, you can't act like Schemmenti doesn't exist. If you keep doing that, she'll soon break into your place to find out what's going on,” she comments, “just like an episode of a soap opera where the greatest absurdities happen in an exactly dramatic way.” Ava finished her sentence while painting her nails a shade of red. The act catching your attention.
Red. It reminded you of Melissa.
Yeah, this was being harder than it seemed.
“Shut up, she won't come after me,” you said it like it was just another one of the stupid things Ava used to say.
“Yes, she will. And y’know that very well.”
—
The next day, Melissa sat with her arms crossed at the table she shared with Barb and you. The redhead stared at the small tupperware in front of her, last night she made what she knew was your favorite dish: pancakes. She was anxiously waiting for you to show up in the break room, but that didn't happen.
Keep calm, Schemmenti. She will appear soon. She won't ignore you.
“Dear..” the kindergarten teacher whispers and she snorts, trying to change the subject, disguising how tense she was.
“What’s so interesting out there?” Melissa asks as she notices Janine, Gregory and Jacob looking at each other with strange expressions after spying in the window.
“Nothing.” Jacob is the first to respond and the couple agrees with him, swearing that there was nothing interesting outside.
She laughs humorlessly, the history teacher simply didn't know how to lie.
“C'mon, kiddo. You guys look like you've seen a ghost.” The redhead gets up from the table and approaches the three, squinting to see anything out of the ordinary and when she does. Her breathing hitches.
On the sidewalk, there were you and another teacher, who she recognized as the art teacher. The woman was happily chatting with you and leaning too close to Melissa's chagrin.
Ms. Evans was know for her big crush on you, she was always fighting with the redhead to have your attention. And now that Melissa was being ignored by you, this bitch thought she could have you all to herself? No way.
“YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” she yelled coming down to get some satisfaction from you.
The sound of angry footsteps caught your attention, it was clearly that they belong to who you had been avoiding since yesterday, Melissa.
The wish was for the redhead to pass straight by without noticing your presence there. But instead, she approached and with a certain force grabbed you by the arm, taking you to one of the far corners of the building.
“Melissa! What the fuck?” you said.
“So while I was worried to death there in the staff room because you didn't talked to me since yesterday, you were here talking normally to that idiot!” the older woman's tone was altered, you could clearly hear the jealousy in her voice, “Had fun with your new best friend?”
“She’s not my best friend. We were just talking,” the nonsensical accusation makes you roll your eyes, letting out a mocking chuckle. “Melissa, stop acting like that!” you shout and she loses her temper even more.
“You suddenly act like a bitch and I’m the one to blame? What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/n?” she growls, fire in her green eyes.
“I dunno, a lot of things I suppose,” you retort coldly.
Melissa sighs when she realizes how tough she was. “Look, I don’t want to be an idiot. But please tell me what I did, so I can fix it.”
“We have nothing to fix between us, Schemmenti.”
“What? Are you really going to ignore it and pretend like none of this is happening?” The redhead asked in disbelief.
“Trust me. It’s better this way, for both of us,” you mumble, walking away from her, leaving an upset Melissa behind.
—
After the ‘argument’ on Tuesday, Melissa and you barely crossed paths at Abbott. And when you bumped into each other in the hallway, both grumbled and went back to your own ways.
The redhead and you were fighting the need to put the damned pride aside and throw yourselfs into each other's arms, and finally apologizing. But you were too stubborn for that and it was fucking complicated.
“This is stupid! Can you believe that Y/n started going to that coffee shop that's just a few blocks away from here just so she wouldn't have to face me at lunch? This whole thing is starting to irritate me.” Melissa tells to her best friend one morning.
“I understand that this situation is complicated, but don’t you think that both of you are exaggerating?” Barb asked carefully. Even she couldn't handle this situation anymore, it was disappointing to have to see you and Melissa acting like two children.
Ava who was listening to the conversation cautiously, decided to interrupt. “Schemmenti, haven’t you put the pieces together yet? Unbelievable.” She said as if it was something of small importance, making the redhead's eyebrows raise in confusion.
“Huh?”
“It’s so simple, I thought you already figured it all out,” the principal continues in a mysterious tone, making Melissa's head spin, “If it weren’t for this bullshit, you and Y/n would already be like two rabbits jumping on top of each other, if you know what I mean.”
The last comment makes Barb choke on her tea. “Ava, could you not be so specific about this? We’re in a school!” she scolds her.
“Whatever! It’s past time for her to know that Y/n likes her too. Even Janine and Gregory acted better than that!”
Everything around Melissa seemed to have gone silent. So was it true, the feelings were also reciprocal. A lot of questions surrounded her mind, why didn't you say anything? Why did you decide to pretend you weren't in love with her? Were you afraid of not being reciprocated?
“Why is she avoiding me then?” the redhead asks out loud, “that’s making me lose my mind. I just miss her.”
“Because of the t-shirt she lend ya. Mainly ‘cause of the last word printed on it.” That's all Ava says at that moment.
“A milf?” Melissa questions, still confused trying to think of putting the pieces together. “What does that mean? Is it something bad?”
“I was going to suggest you to google the meaning, but since you look like you're about to have a heart attack, I will tell ya,” she laughs and the redhead rolls her eyes, showing Ava her middle finger, “but don't be scared, it's a good thing, actually.”
“Alright..” the green-eyed woman whispers, still afraid of the answer, “so what does this whole milf thing means?”
“Mother I'd Like To Fuck. It also means that an older woman is super attractive.”
Melissa was left open-mouthed, her eyes blinking trying to process the explanation. So that was the damn meaning, well, she had to admit that was hot. “Wait... so Y/n..” she starts but there is a pause.
“Is in love with you and was scared when she saw ya wearing that t-shirt looking extremely hot, and preferred to stay away in case you found out what she felt.” Ava reveals it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, “What are you waiting for? Go find your girl, Schemmenti.”
—
Time passed slowly to Melissa's disgust and despair, making the poor woman sigh feeling defeated. As each second passed, she glanced quickly at the clock on her classroom wall, waiting for the afternoon to end.
After her students left, and the school day was finally over. She drove to your house — without caring about traffic regulations and rules — nothing else really mattered, she just needed to see you.
Sitting on the floor, while assembling a Lego set that simulated a beautiful bouquet of flowers — a gift you received from Janine and Gregory days ago, a lovely attempt by the couple to cheer you up — the sound of the doorbell ringing caught your attention. Making you stop your movements.
You furrowed your eyebrow in confusion, who could it be? Most of your friends were at different appointments at that time. So it certainly wasn't one of them.
“I'm almost coming! I just hope you’re not a stupid lunatic or some other ,” you grumbled, standing up as the sounds of the doorbell seemed more desperate with each passing second.
You opened the door and found Melissa standing there with her arms crossed, shivering slightly from the storm. “Hon, it’s so good to see you again.” She murmurs with a weak smile. Without caring if her voice sounds too desperate.
“Mel, what are you doing here? You might catch a damn cold like that.” You scolded her, pulling her into the house and locking the door again.
“I don’t care about that, I needed to see you. Actually we have to talk.” She responds taking off the black leather jacket that covered her body and hanging it where you kept your coats.
“We have to?” There is a little hesitation in the tone of your voice, all that courage and confidence have disappeared from your body. Insecurity taking over.
“Yeah, hon. We do.” She replied, noticing your nervousness, Melissa tries to comfort you, placing her hand on your shoulder and stroking it lovingly, showing that everything was fine. You smile for the first time in days in the presence of your beloved redhead.
She takes you to the small white sofa that was in the middle of the living room. “I know you were avoiding me because of that shirt. And I know you're in love with me.”
“What? Fuck, how did you figure all this out?” you whisper in panic, covering your face with your hands. Feeling vulnerable at the mercy of the red-haired figure sitting next to you.
A silence fell in the room, making you feel even more embarrassed.
“Ava told me those things earlier today. Hon, why didn't you tell me anything? That would have made everything so much easier.”
“What do you mean by making things easier? I don't understand.”
“I'm love with you too, idiot. I just didn't say before ‘cause I was insecure as fuck. But now, I know exactly what I want: you. No one else, just you.” She confessed with a smile on her face.
Automatically your body falls even more on the couch and you feel slightly dizzy. Closing your eyes slowly, trying to regain consciousness. “Sorry, I'm a bit nervous,” you respond. “It's too much to process. Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t be nervous, it’s me. Just me,” Melissa pulls you into her lap sighing as she smells your lavender scent again. “I'm sorry if I acted like a bitch the last few days. It was not necessary.”
“It was never your fault, I was the real bitch. You didn’t deserve to go through this just because of an irresponsible attitude of mine,” you say, resting your foreheads together.
“I think it's fair to say that we overreacted a bit,” the older woman smiles with her eyes closed. Feeling a slight courage run through her body, she asks you something. “Sweetheart?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you?” Melissa asks biting her lip and slowly approaching, “I wanna do this since New Year's Eve.”
“Yes, please, Mel.” You beg wrapping your arms around her neck.
The moment her lips touched yours, it felt like you were in heaven. Melissa's lips were soft against yours. The kiss was calm and peaceful, both wanting to show all the love you felt for each other.
“You know, being considered a milf is an honor for me.” Melissa scoffs with a mischievous smile as you pull away from the kiss.
“Shut up.” You chuckle, cupping her cheeks.
“Make me,” the redhead teases, “please.”
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Whumptober 2023 Event Info & Rules
Event Info & Rules
~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~
WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.
The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to an 'old flame' - an old relationship. It's truly down to you!
In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participations as much creative freedom as possible.
Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.
If you are uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag them with:
#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)
#no.1, #no.2, #no.3 …..(theme/theme number)
#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)
#fandom or #OC, ... (ironman, originalcontent, oc ...)
#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)
#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)
#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)
#your own tags go here
PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]
Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.
Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.
Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.
Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!
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could you tell me more about spoonflower? i'm interested in uploading my own designs, but i'm not entirely sure how it works or how much it pays. thank you!
Sure!
When you first upload your design, it'll look like this.
The standard DPI for printing on all the fabric sites I've seen is 150, and since I made this pattern at 200 DPI that means Spoonflower will print it bigger than I want it unless I change it here.
So I click on the "change DPI" thing, type in "200" and click "change". Sometimes I find it doesn't save, so I always go back later to check and make sure it did save the right DPI.
(You can avoid this by just changing your image to the right DPI before uploading, but sometimes I want the option to make it a bit bigger, just in case.)
If you want to make multiple sizes of the same pattern available you'll have to upload a different version for each one and change the size individually.
For example, I drew my Bathroom Dinosaurs pattern pretty large and at 150 DPI, and left that as is for the big version.
But I wanted a small version too, so for that one I changed it to 670 pixels per inch so it'd print much smaller.
You write in the title, tags, and description, and you can put any links to other pages or references in the "Additional Details" section.
(Leaving links isn't usually necessary, but sometimes it is, like how I wanted to leave a link to the original 1760's teapot for my crinoid fossil pattern.)
At this point, you can order things printed with your design, but nobody else can yet. You have the option to show the design publicly, but I like to keep it private until I've ordered my proofs and can sell it.
Now, to order proofs! DO NOT GET THE CUT SWATCHES!!! They are SO much more expensive than getting a fill-a-yard, because cutting and packaging all the little pieces is a lot of extra labour.
Wether you have a few designs, or a lot, just get a fill-a-yard.
To make a fill-a-yard you first need to make a collection. Collections can be either public or private, so I keep a private collection called "new designs to proof", and I put all my new designs in there until I've ordered them.
You can also add other people's patterns to a collection, so if you have extra space to fill up or you want little bits of a bunch of other people's patterns for a quilt or something, add whatever you want to your collection.
On the collections page when you hover your mouse over one you'll see a little patchwork symbol show up in the middle along the bottom edge, and you click on that.
That'll take you here, and you choose a layout and a fabric.
For some reason the fabric options here are a bit limited and vary depending on the layout. I like to get either the 1 yard/42 designs in cotton poplin, or the 2 yards/48 designs in cotton sateen, but there are plenty more you could try.
I'll click the latter for this example. (The squares in this one are the perfect size for pleated face masks, and I have a few made from mine and my friend's fabrics.)
Then you just click on a design and click on however many squares/rectangles you want it to fill. It usually takes a few seconds for them to show up.
You can have just one little sample of each, or you could make half the fabric be one design and fill up the rest with little samples.
(That's what I did for my brown monster waistcoat - I printed juuuust enough of a fill-a-yard to cut out a waistcoat from, and the rest was other samples.)
You can change it around if you want. Once you're happy with it, put it in the cart and buy it!
I'm not going to order this one since it's an example with designs I've already proofed, but here's what my monster patterns looked like when they arrived.
Also, I want to point out that you could VERY easily make some really fun pride flags using the fill-a-yard! You might have to have it be only part of the fabric, depending on the number of stripes, but you could make it be any texture or pattern you want. Here's a quick example I did with other people's patterns by searching "(colour) marble texture".
With only 4 stripes I'd have to fill the rest of the space in with something else and cut it off, but it would still be pretty big! (The edge of that purple stripe looks jagged in the preview, but they print perfectly straight.)
I have not done this, but someone should! Just wash it, trim the blank edges off, hem it, and you've got a flag!
(Don't do this with the 2 yards/4 designs option though, it looks like nice stripes in the thumbnail but it's made for infinity scarves and there's a gap and dotted line down the middle for cutting. Bleh.)
Anyways, once your samples arrive you can make the designs available for sale! If you have any changes you'd like to make, to the size it prints at or the pattern itself, you can make them now.
I found the small version of the Bathroom Dinosaurs print was too small when I first got my proofs, so I just reduced the DPI a bit.
And you can replace the image with a new, edited version by clicking "upload revision".
So when my brown coffin pattern printed really washed out and grey, I replaced it with a more saturated version and was good to go, no need to order another proof.
Down at the bottom of the design editing page you can now click on the options to list it publicly, and to sell it on fabric and/or wallpaper. I make all of them available on fabric, and some on wallpaper if I deem them to be appropriately large.
They'll pay you 10% of the sales price of the fabric, or slightly more if you sell over a certain amount in a month. There's a whole page of questions and answers about it.
You also get a 10% discount if you order fabrics with your own designs.
(Although, personally, if I'm ordering my own designs on fabrics for me then I'd prefer to get them from somewhere like ArtFabrics, since they use reactive dyes instead of inks, so their blacks actually print black and don't make the fabric stiffer like Spoonflower's do. And also because they're here in Canada so there's less shipping cost. Sadly they don't have an option to sell your designs though.)
Spoonflower also has weekly design contests which are announced a few weeks in advance and have pretty big store credit prizes (the first place one is 200 USD), and I've entered a few times, but I don't vote often because Spoonflower is such a huge site that there are frequently over a thousand entries and it's really time consuming to scroll through them all.
Ok, that's everything I can think of! I also put all my patterns on sone things on Redbubble, since they have options for repeating patterns on some things.
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A Princess' Guide to Interrogating a Radio Demon
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Pairing: Ler!Charlie, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)
Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, interrogation (in the most playful sense). If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige.
This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.
This is my first fic for Hazbin Hotel, so any feedback would be welcomed and deeply appreciated! (also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future work - I'm quite sure this'll be FAR from my last fic for this fandom hehe)
Hope you enjoy!
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Ever since he'd discovered glam metal, Angel has been blasting it nonstop from his room.
Unfortunately, his room happens to be directly beneath Alastor's... and the insulation in the hotel's walls leaves an awful lot to be desired. The Radio Demon's eye had been in a constant twitch for three days by the time he'd finally had enough.
"Alastor? Have you seen Angel's speakers?"
--------------------------------------------------------------
When Charlie appears in his doorway, the demon in question is sitting comfortably on his couch, sipping a mug of black coffee and reading a newspaper (though Charlie isn't sure how he acquired it - the local paper has been out of print for weeks).
"No. But I've certainly had the displeasure of hearing them."
"They've gone missing. Do you have any idea where they might be?"
"Far away, I hope."
Charlie rolls her eyes and leaves to go consult the other guests. The deer takes a long draw from his mug.
--------------------------------------------------------------
To Alastor's slight irritation, he only enjoys a few minutes of peace before the princess' voice echoes from the hall again.
"Oooh, Al...." Charlie sings.
"What is it, my dear?" the Radio Demon sings back absently.
"Nifty says she saw you with Angel's speakers yesterday."
"Did she?" He flips a page of his newspaper.
"Look, all I need to know is where you put them."
Long pause. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."
"Alastor."
"Whaaat?" Though his eyes haven't left the page, his grin has widened slightly. "You think I'm lying?"
"You're always lying. That's your thing."
"...Touché."
Charlie perches on the sofa beside him.
"Are you gonna tell me where it is or not?"
"Fine. I'll be completely honest with you."
She perks up.
"I would honestly die a second death before subjecting myself to one more note of that infernal garbage."
Alastor's eyes flick up from his paper for the briefest of seconds, just to watch the bubbly princess' face fall into a delightfully exasperated scowl.
"You can't steal someone's stuff just because it annoys you!"
"On the contrary. That's exactly what I did."
Charlie narrows her eyes. "Alastor. You tell me where Angel's speakers are or else."
Alastor chuckles in spite of himself - Charlie's attempts to be intimidating never fail to amuse him.
"What's so funny about that?"
"My dear, I say this with the utmost respect and admiration for your many talents: there's a reason I tend to be the one called upon to scare off demonic threats."
Charlie huffs and crosses her arms. "Just because you're creepier and... more sadistic than me, doesn't mean I don't have ways of making you talk."
"Oh?" Alastor arches a skeptical eyebrow at his paper.
"So you better watch your step, Mister."
"Hmm. You make a compelling case." He flips another page. "Maybe I should tell you where Angel's poor excuse for music is."
Charlie brightens. "Really?"
"No."
The princess deflates.
He's right, of course: even if Charlie figures out a way to make herself legitimately threatening to the Radio Demon... he's the fucking Radio Demon. She may be the Princess of Hell, but she doesn't want to have to rebuild the hotel from rubble all over again.
The two sit in impassive silence for a few minutes - Charlie glaring at Alastor, Alastor staring stubbornly at his paper - until she finally stifles a sigh and slouches against the cushions. He's enjoying this, she just knows it. Sitting there with that stupid grin. He's probably been laughing to himself all night, imagining poor Angel waking up and finding his most prized possession missing.
She finds herself wishing she could make the old deer laugh himself sick sometime, just to teach him a lesson.
...Which is a horrible thought! Charlie's eyes widen, her brow furrowing in self-disgust. She could never bring herself to hurt Alastor, even via laughter.
In fact, she quite likes his laugh - it's a little maniacal, sure, and certainly hard to truly enjoy amid the gory contexts that typically trigger it. But if she knew a way to make him laugh at something other than another person's expense, she'd probably do it all the time... it's just that the things that make him laugh also tend to make Charlie nauseous.
Once again, the princess finds herself completely baffled by her own subjects. How one could be so tickled by anything that goes on down here - the pain, the violence, the gore...
Charlie tilts her head. She may have just gotten an idea.
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If Alastor had happened to cast a quick glance down the couch, the smile creeping across Charlie's face would've been enough to give him real pause.
But since he is instead stubbornly focused on his paper, he is completely unprepared for the fingers that suddenly begin crawling oh-so-gently up his side.
To her initial disappointment, Charlie finds at least three layers of fabric dampening her touch, and aside from a subtle flinch at first contact, Alastor himself remains perfectly still.
But then a low buzz of radio static swells around them. As she probes up his ribs, she can hear a soft crinkle of paper as his grip tightens.
"Charlie..." His voice is oddly clipped.
"Mm?" Charlie takes one glance at his face, and her smile deepens - even Alastor's signature grin can't mask the effect. He's still technically staring at the paper, but his eyes have gone wide and blank. He opens his mouth to continue just as her fingers reach his armpit - and his jaw quickly clamps shut. It's clearly taking everything in him not to squirm.
"Got something to say, Al?" She starts pinching back down his ribcage.
"Mmph!" The giggles start in his chest, bubbling up and fighting to escape through clenched teeth. Soon his shoulders are shaking with the effort of holding them in.
"...Maybe about the location of a certain object?"
No response. The radio demon just curls forward a little, hiding his face in his paper.
Taking advantage of this new posture, Charlie slips her other arm around behind him, and gives a good pinch to both sides of his slender waist.
The demon straightens right back up with an audible gasp and tiny squeak of surprise (that he quickly tries to cover with a cough).
"Charlie! Are you s-seriously trying to-"
"Are you seriously ticklish?"
"No!"
In response she delivers another series of pinches to the same spot. His posture crumples again, until finally he loses his grip on his paper and twists to face her.
"No?" she giggles. And squeezes him again.
"Stop that!" He fumbles at her fingers, trying to pry them off his sides.
Instead Charlie swaps her hands, wrapping her fingers around his waist with both thumbs resting lightly on his stomach... and begins digging them right under his lower ribs.
That finally does it. He flinches back with a little snort, followed by soft but utterly helpless giggles pressed shyly into his hands.
"Awww!" Charlie coos.
"Keheh- f-fuckin'- heheh! - quiet!" His voice cracks amusingly on the last word.
There are about fifteen different things Charlie is dying to say as Alastor goes to pieces with laughter, but she can't think of anything that wouldn't risk embarrassing the poor guy - and humiliating him is the last thing she wants to do. The fact that Alastor hasn't instantly dissolved into shadows (or cursed her across the room) hasn't been lost on the princess; she is NOT about to jeopardize this moment by making him uncomfortable enough to do so.
That said, she is conducting an interrogation here.
"What was that about not being ticklish?"
His clutching at her wrists becomes more frantic. "Don't-!"
Alastor hyperventilates a couple times, trying to get ahold of himself - but then she continues squeezing down the sides of his belly, and he can only collapse into even worse laughter.
"I think I know just how to get you to talk..."
"Nohoho- ahagh, Charlie! Shihihit!"
Charlie shifts onto her knees for better leverage, gives him a gentle push backward, and pins him (surprisingly easily) against the couch. Her snaggle-toothed grin looms over him...
For a split-second, Alastor gets a flash of what his victims must've seen moments before they debuted on his show.
But he's pretty sure this isn't quite how they felt about it. He's already shaking with anticipatory giggles, grinning back at her wider than ever. And the giddy panic behind his eyes quickly forms an unlikely union with defiance.
"Do your worst, my dear."
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To be continued... pt. II is already in the works, so stay tuned!!
Until next time - hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💕
💜 - Cozy
#lee!alastor#ticklish!alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel tickles#oh deer he's ticklish#ler!charlie#hazbin hotel tickling#ticklefic#tickle fic#tickle headcanons#charlie morningstar#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel spoilers
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