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axelsagewrites · 8 months

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Ivar the Boneless*Does He Treat You Well

Pairing: Ivar x wife!reader

Kinktober Day eleven: knife play with Ivar the Boneless – people whisper and wonder how someone so sweet could marry someone so angry, but they don’t see what Ivar does when you’re underneath him

Warnings: ivar being ivar, slight blood kink, blood, knife play, knife kink, p in v sex, nipple play, choking, hickeys, smut 18+

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You heard their whispers in the street, of course you had. You remember the concerned expressions etched into your parents face as you dedicated your heart to Ivar. You knew what people thought of him and what they feared for you.

Even Ubbe, a long close friend of yours expressed his concern. You had married Ivar a month ago yet now Ubbe was asking you the question, “Does he treat you well?” he asked in a hush whisper from where you sat at the opposite side of the hall from your husband. Your eyes flickered to Ivar as you recalled how he had treated you last night.

“Such a pretty dress,” Ivar praised as he laid by your side, his hands trailing down the fabric of your dress as you gazed up at how his pale blue eyes scanned your body, “Shame it has to go,” he muttered but you knew he was not sorry.

Especially not when he clutched the neckline, his dagger slicing through the fabric with ease. Cold air washed over your frame causing your nipples to harden while Ivar finished slicing the dress off you. his eyes raked your body, the dagger slowly being dragged up your legs. You shivered as the cool metal glided along your thigh, so light that it didn’t even scratch your skin. “Husband,” you whined, your hand gripping his wrist making his eyes raise to meet yours, “I need you,”

A low growl left his throat as his lips crashed onto yours. you felt his blade move away from your body, but you were too intoxicated by his lips to care as your hands wound up in his hair as he moved to lay over you. he broke the kiss as suddenly as he started it, his empty hand reaching to squeeze your tit before pinching one of your nipples roughly causing you to whine.

His lips moved to your collarbones, sucking harsh marks into the sensitive skin as he rolled your nipples between his fingers making it hard not to moan loudly. “Such a pretty little thing,” Ivar praised, his voice almost mocking as his eyes raked your chest.

You shivered when you felt the tip of his dagger run up your side slowly, moving over to run up your chest. As he ran the blade up between your breasts, he pressed down lightly, just enough to break the skin. A hot feeling flushed along your chest as Ivar dropped the blade, running his thumb over the cut he had made, collecting the blood on his finger.

You watched as he sucked his thumb, his eyes rolling back into his skull, “Such a sweet taste,” he praised, moving his hands from his lips to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheek bone. Your hand moved to hold his wrist softly and Ivar smiled at your tenderness in even this moment. “A gift from the gods,” he murmured, his lips falling to press soft kisses down your chest to your breasts.

“Husband,” you moaned lightly as he took your nipple into his mouth.

“What is it my sweet?” he asked, trailing his mouth to the other, sucking harshly making you gasp in pleasure.

You could feel your stomach burning and your chest aching, needing his touch despite how close he already was. Your legs moved to hook around his lower back, pulling his body down gently into yours as your hands moved to cup your face, “I need you,” you whispered, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

Ivar however growled, his kiss growing more intense as his hand moved to grab your jaw. You gasped lightly when you felt his hips grind into yours, his hard cock evident through his trousers. While you had heard the whispers of his failures in the bedroom one night with Ivar proved it had just been a mishap.

His lips moved to your jaw, kissing it harshly as he trailed down your frame. His lips soon captured your nipple, his teeth grazing it making shivers run down your spin. You felt his rough hand squeeze your thigh before it slipped between them, running a finger up your slit, “So wet for me already,” he praised, “How desperate you really are,”

“So desperate,” you whined quietly, “for you Ivar. I need you please. do not make me wait,” you begged, your hips instinctively bucking as he rubbed harsh circles onto your clit, “Please husband,”

Your words seemed to spark something in the man as his hand wrapped around your neck, the other diving beneath his trousers to fish out his cock. “You want me?” he asked, and you nodded wordlessly as you felt him line himself up with your entrance, “Then you shall have me,” he grunted, pushing his tip in slowly making you gasp at his size you had still not grown used to. His eyes screwed tight in bliss as he slowly sunk his cock all the way in, his hand trailing down your throat to your breast, squeezing it lightly.

Your hips bucked, desperate for friction, and Ivar had sensed your impatience. His hips began to move, slowly at first before falling into a brutal and relentless pace. Your legs wrapped around his hips, allowing him to hit a deeper angle making curses fall from his lips.

Your eyes screwed shut, trying to stifle the moans as your fingernails sunk into his bicep. You gasped when you felt the cold blade press against your throat, but it only added to the way your body tightened beneath him. When you opened your eyes, you were met by his icy blue ones.

For a moment you wondered if it this was the sight your husbands’ enemies were forced to see before they were sent to Odin and for a moment you thought this alone would make death worth it. but they didn’t get to feel the way you did as you felt your peak soon approaching. Ivar grabbed your hand roughly, shoving it between your bodies so you could rub fast circles into your clit.

His blade moved up, pushing against your jaw making your head tilt back as Ivar’s lips dove down to your neck, kissing down the soft skin. When you felt his arm slip under your back, pulling it up and causing it to arch, you gasped as his cock hit a new spot that somehow felt even better.

Ivar groaned at the way your cunt squeezed around him, but he was determined to last until you had, and it did not take long as with a few more specific, aimed thrusts you found your orgasm rushing over you. your body tightened, your legs wrapping around him and pulling him in deeper making Ivar groan and drop the knife. He moved his arm out from under your back, grabbing at the sheets as his thrusts grew messy and desperate, his forehead resting against yours.

You felt his body stiffen as you came down from your own peak, still panting from the high as you felt him spill inside you before collapsing on top of you in a sweaty mess. After a couple of moments to allow you both to catch your breath Ivar looked up at you, his eyes tender and sweet, “Are you okay my love?” he asked.

“Are you okay?” Ubbe’s words snapped you back from reality and your eyes darted back to him, not noticing your husband’s smirk from across the room.

You smiled warmly at your brother-in-law, “Yes and you don’t need to worry Ubbe. He treats me very well, I promise,”

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fuckmyskywalker · 5 months

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❄️ 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖𝐭𝐡 : 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 - 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.

— CW: 18+. Smut. Cockwarming. Tit sucking. Age gap (Anakin is 43, Reader is 21) | Word count: 1.1k (not proofread!)

— a/n: Fourth day of the Anyafest let's go <3! I apologize for the delay. Had a doctors appointment.

— Anyafest 2023 + Taglist!

“It looks nice…” Anakin compliments you from the couch, closing the empty boxes labeled «Christmas decorations».

“Thank you,” You reply, stepping down the small stool. “Glad you liked it.”

“Luke and Leia will love it—” He scratched the back of his head nervously before letting his arms fall on his thighs. “It’s been a while since we decorated the house like this.”

“How come?”

“Well… they aren’t kids anymore, you know? Plus they spend the 24th with their mother, so I just hang out with Obi-Wan and his wife during Christmas.” Anakin piles up the boxes in the corner, making a mental note to return them to the attic. You nod, not sure if you should push the conversation or not— but your curiosity is too strong. The thought of Anakin spending Holidays on his own makes your heart clench with yearning.

“This year you have me,” You say with a smile, placing the small ladder next to the chimney and walking to his side to wrap your arms around his back. Admiring the tall Christmas tree, you smile to yourself. “And not to brag or anything… but I did a great job.”

Anakin laughs, kissing the top of your forehead and wrapping his arms around your waist. “You sure did, dollface. You sure did.” He stares at the bright star on top of the tree, the ghost of a nostalgic smirk dancing on his chapped lips.

Despite the warm moment, Anakin was being 100% truthful before. Since his divorce, Holidays weren't exactly the same. The first years he had the twins all for himself, so the house was always a mess— a happy mess. He’d spoil them with toys, clothes, anything they could ask for and even more; back when things were easier and it felt like those joyful moments could last forever. His house was the meeting point and it was full of life, laughter and light. Nowadays… not so much.

With the twins all grown up, almost of age and not entirely interested in spending Christmas with their old man, Anakin found himself binge watching Christmas movies with a bottle of bourbon and his favorite Chinese takeout. An awful combination but he found it to be comforting. Normally he’d pass out before the fourth movie and blackout drunk… but this year it is different. This year he has you.

“Anakin?” You pull him out of his trance, snapping your fingers in front of his face. “You alright? You zoned out.”

He shakes his head slightly, replacing the look of melancholy with a comforting expression. “Sorry— just remembering.”

Your eyes soften, of course he is. You noticed it while he unpacked the ornaments and decorations. The way he held the small handcrafted spheres that Luke did for him in elementary school, and how he smiled when he saw Leia’s old Christmas card. You could only imagine how it would feel to see your children distance from you.

“I know we have been dating for just half a year…” You start, holding his hand and guiding him to the couch. “But I'm glad you are sharing a part of you with me. I love to hear your stories. They are lovely,” Cupping his face, you kissed him. It was a tender, soft kiss— the warmth he has been missing for years. “It is a pleasure to spend Christmas with you.”

“Come here, pretty princess,” Anakin sighs, pulling you over his lap and squeezing your waist. Your body clicks on top of him in a way none other than perfect. His nose nudges at your pulse point, inhaling you. “You smell nice, is that the perfume I gave you last week?”

“It is,” You nod, mindlessly dragging your hips back and forth. “Let me take care of you… You don’t have to spend Christmas alone this year.”

His large hand makes its way to the back of your head, bringing your face against his and melting you in a loving kiss. You can taste the whisky he drank before decorating and the faint tobacco from the cigarette he had in his lips when he picked you up— both flavors mixing to create the characteristic taste that excites your tongue. Anakin pops the button of your jeans, lifting your body so he can pull it down and press your pantie-clad core against the bulge in his black sweatpants. His calloused palms slide inside your sweater, caressing your abdomen and cupping your breasts, squeezing them and fondling them without restraint.

“I could get used to this,” Anakin whispers playfully, lifting your sweater and shirt all together so he can lower the cups of your bra, immediately attaching his lips to your nipple.

Your hips buckle involuntarily, bringing his face closer to your chest and clumsily looking for the little bow on his sweats, yanking it. He chuckles at your eagerness but helps you pull them down anyway, biting his lower lip at your surprised gasp. Of course he skipped underwear today.

He wraps a hand around the base, pressing it against your clothed hole and pushing the fabric of your underwear against it. The cotton is nothing more than an annoying barrier to where you want him the most; with an exasperated whine you slap his shoulders, wordlessly begging.

“Alright, alright— don’t throw a tantrum, princess.” Anakin shakes his head, clicking his tongue and pushing your panties to the side, sliding the tip in. He goes inch by inch, clearly teasing you. He’s halfway in when Anakin decides to pull out, enjoying the impatient moan that falls down your throat. “You are so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” Without waiting for an answer he sinks back in, this time all the way.

His cock stretches you just like the first time and it always is a marvelous feeling. He doesn’t move, no— he likes to feel every pulse and clench of your wet velvety walls. Plus, if he forces you to cockwarming him enough you'll be cockdrunk in no time. His mouth takes a small trip from your neck to your lips, using his thumb to force your jaw open and lick every corner of your mouth. You try to move your hips on your own, but he warns you with a small slap on your cheek. No moving is allowed until he says so. You really wanted to take care of him this time— but Anakin’s favorite hobby is to turn you into a brainless putty that can only beg for cock. His member throbs inside you and you feel it, he insists on fucking you raw so you can feel it, and you don’t regret a thing.

The hand that slapped your ass sneaks between your bodies, pressing it flat on your lower stomach so he can feel the slight push of his cock. He’s always too big for you to handle— and yet you love to have your guts rearranged by him. There's something about old men that…

“You look so lovely all stuffed, baby,” Anakin caresses your hair, lifting his hips as if he was trying to push his member deeper. “Aren’t you the star on top of my Christmas tree?”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anyafest 2023!#anakin skywalker #dilf!anakin skywalker #dilf!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x reader smut

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tau1tvec · 4 months

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Some tips for The Sims 3 Buy/Build

Install LazyDuchess’ Smooth Patch to alleviate lag, esp in Buy/Build and CAS.

Keep your CC merged and organized, esp your patterns, this will also alleviate a lotta lag across all modes.

When building on community lots, or any lot rlly, avoid going to the edit world menu, and just put testingcheats enabled into the cheat window, then shift+click the ground of the lot to enter Buy/Build mode. This makes leaving it to save a lot easier, with less “preparing” screens to possibly get hung up in.

Lower your settings, you don’t need any adjacent lots loaded, and you certainly don’t need super water on either. You can always switch these back on when you’re done.

While you’re at it, remove your HQ mod, and turn off your Reshade/Gshade preset, or at least turn off your depth shaders. I only ever turn on my depth shaders when I’m taking screenshots for better fps while playing. The DoF shader esp requires a lotta resources your game could be using to simulate all those 78 townie sims instead.

Save as… vs Save, I Save as… at least every third save. It’s also just good habit to keep backups.

When using the CASt tool, set down everything you plan to CASt first, then switch to a category like the wall tool to avoid eventual lag and drag when using it a lot. Love yourself. You don’t have to suffer using CASt tool in an overpopulated category like misc deco.

Utilize the clone option through testing cheats to duplicate already CASted objects, it’ll keep your design just like the dropper tool, but it’s a lot less time consuming, I promise.

Don’t be afraid to use the swatch save tool for objects you use often, esp community lot objects, as it helps to keep your aesthetic consistent. I also keep all of my favorite streetlamps, benches, and public trash bins etc in a convenient custom collection folder to speed up the process of doing multiple lots in one sitting. These handy tools are there, use them.

The issue with custom counters. They mess up sometimes, if you can’t recolor it suddenly, here’s how to fix that. Now if you can’t place down a cupboard suddenly, even though nothing’s in the way, and you’ve got moveobjects on activated, try putting it on the wall a tile over, and then try adding it to your desired spot again. Lastly if you set down counters or cupboards at a corner, and it messes up the textures, but you can still recolor it, you could do what the video I linked above does, or you could simply pull out the CASt tool, and switch it back to any of its original swatches and click the check, then feel free to recolor it as you want.

Railings will also do the “can’t recolor” trick too, but this is a simple fix, just delete it, and replace it, and you’re good.

“Oh no, I switched between buy and build mode, and now my catalogue won’t load, and I can’t click on anything at all!” Don’t panic, hit F2 and/or F3 on your keyboard, these are shortcuts for switching between them, and if you’re lucky it’ll load properly again. Should you get the bug where you load a category and it’s somehow empty, don’t fret, just click on a different category and this should fix it. Then if you get the bug where all the objects you put down disappear suddenly, sorry your game is haunted. Call an exorcist, or just reload, they might reappear if you do.

Tbh, if you run into any kind of major bugs, it’s likely a sign to either save immediately or just restart your game. These only ever show up when you’ve been at it a while ( at least for me ), therefore starting fresh wouldn’t hurt. Probably also wouldn’t hurt to check whether you might’ve installed something the game didn’t agree with by running Dashboard, or put it through the ol’ Save Cleaner.

Honorable Mention: Keep an eye on the texture sizes and poly counts of objects. I know it’s tempting to build these ultra hyperrealistic lots with clutter at every inch, but unless you’re just doing it for screenshots, or for your story, or using it very sparingly, it is not by any means recommended purely for gameplay. This is just the truth when it comes to any Sims game. You don’t want lag, or max memory crashes, or save errors? The Sims 3 is a 32bit game, that’s almost old enough to drive, be easy on it.

#the sims 3 #ts3 #tips and tricks

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hyperiondickrider · 2 months

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Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 6)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

Vox was gone when you woke up.

Eyes still droopy with sleep, a big yawn forced itself from your throat as you sat up, the sunlight streaming in through the shutters slowing adjusting your eyes to the early morning sun.

The bed was empty, and in Vox’s place sat a neatly folded letter. You clambered over, recognising Vox’s handwriting and your name on the letter.

My darling bunny,

Im afraid i won’t be there to take care of you when you wake up, but i’ve been called on business to the Greed Ring.

Supposedly, Mammon has a business deal for me; one that will serve to increase the VoxTek empire exponentially, my dear.

Whilst I’m gone, i won’t expect you to be at work, since there won’t be anything for you to do without me there. So please, take some days to yourself, visit Angel Dust, whatever you wanna do.

There should be coffee in the pantry, and should you need groceries please take Velvette with you; it’s too near to that time again, and i really don’t want any incidents dollface.

If you need anything else, please go to Velvette, and the Val as a last resort. I’m still not sure how much i trust him around you, especially without me around.

I should be back in a few days, a week at most.

Love you baby,

Vox

With a smile and a giggle, you crumpled up the letter, deciding to take his advice and visit Angel as the day allowed it.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you dragged a brush through your hair, flinching as it scraped your ears, surprised at their unusual sensitivity. Shrugging it off, you through on some clothes, a sweater, skirt, and matching leg warmers, before heading out the door.

Skipping out the door, you stretched the remaining drowsiness out of your sore limbs, enjoying the glow of sun on your skin. Trying to remember to route, you decided to pick up a coffee on the way, unable to find any in the pantry.

Humming a tune, your nose twitched at the fragrant scent of coffee, ears perking up in recognition. Eagerly approaching the counter, you pulled out your fluffy wallet.

“Two caramel lattes, please!” You grinned lightly leaning back and forth on your heels as you waited patiently for your coffee. After all, Angie was never a morning person, so he’d hopefully appreciate being woken with his favourite coffee.

“Two caramel lattes for Y/N?”

Not noticing the stares and smirks you got, you grabbed your coffees and hurried out the door, eager to see your best friend after way too long.

The streets of hell felt more chaotic than usual. Had something happened? Was something going on?

Shaking off your anxieties, you continued the way towards the hotel, despite feeling as though eyes were constantly on you. The familiar sight of the hotel’s large doors were a welcome refuge, as you knocked gently, you timidity returning at the remembrance of many powerful people residing here.

“Omigodomigod is it a new guest! Vaggie Vaggie come here! Quick!” The door swung open with fervour too great for so early in the morning, and you took a step back out if surprise.

“Y/N? Ohh, are you here to see Angel? It’s great to see you again! Do you want to be redeemed?” Grabbed by the hand, Charlie hastily pulled you inside, bombarding you with questions.

“H-hi Charlie! No, im just here to see Angie, my boss gave me a few days off so i came to visit!”

“Oh, that is just wonderful! Im so glad Angel has such nice friends!” Charlie gushed at your innocent demeanour, pulling you towards the lounge where Angel was sitting on a couch, scrolling on his phone.

“Charlie, my love, calm down. Its 9 in the morning.” Vaggie put a comforting shoulder on Charlie’s shoulder, intending to relax her from her excitment.

“Charlie? What’s goin’ on?” Angel called out not looking up from his phone, seemingly uninterested in the commotion.

“Angie! I missed you! Here i brought you a latte.”

“Huh? Cutie! I missed ya too you silly rabbit! Ooh, is it caramel?”

“Yup, your favourite!”

“Satan, you know me so well!”

You giggled as Angel eagerly chugged his coffee, before pulling you into a tight embrace. You sighed into his touch, ears twitching pleasedly, as he scratched your head.

“Cutie, what are ya doin’ here? Dontcha know how dangerous it is outside right now? Didntcha watch the news?”

Your eyes widened and you glanced up at him. “Why? Is something goin’ on? Mr Vox doesn’t let me watch the news, he says he’ll tell me everything i need to know…”

Angel let out a string of curses and grumbled. “Course that fucking manipulative asshole controls all the information that gets to ya. The extermination, babes. Its comin’ in 6 months now, not a year. Everyone’s freaking out.”

You gasped, a hand shooting up to cover your mouth in shock. “W-what? But that’s awful!”

“Yeah, but we got a more immediate problem on our hands. You feelin’ okay, cutie?” Angel picked you up with a set of arms and turned you around to inspect you, as if looking for something.

“W-what do you mean, Angie?”

With a sigh, he grabbed your cotton tail, causing you to whimper loudly, tears forming in your eyes.

“You’re really fucking sensitive, cutie. Your heat’s about to start, i can smell it on you.” Angel sniffs the air for dramatic effect, causing you to giggle.

“But i should still have at least a week left?”

Angel put you down with a sigh, and glanced out the nearest window. “Cutie, there’s literally like, 15 sinners out there waiting for you to come out. What, didja collect ‘em like fucking pokemon?” The both of you start laughing, as you collapse into Angel’s chest fluff, legs weak from giggling.

Angel lowered a hand down whilst your giggles were muffled in his chest, touching your panties to discover the sopping wetness between your legs as you shivered at his gentle touch. You moaned softly, gripping his biceps as he inspected your slick.

“Yup. Babes, its like the heavens have literally opened up between your legs.” He chuckled at his own phrasing, scooping you up in his long arms. “We gotta get you home to Vox before it fully sets in”

“M-mr Vox isn’t here, Angie. H-he’s in the Greed Ring on business.”

Angel cursed loudly, drawing the attention of the other in the hotel.

“Angel? What’s wrong?” Charlie inquired curiously.

“Little bunny here’s about to start her heat, but daddy Vox ain’t here to help her through it. So I’m gonna hafta help her, cause there ain’t no fuckin way i’m handin her over to Val”

“S-sorry Angie, i guess you’re stuck with me until Mr Vox is back..” you trail off, your arousal growing steadily as your sight becomes hazy.

“Sorry Charlie, can she stay with me a while? I can’t leave her like this.”

“U-uh of course Angel!” Charlie blushes at the implication, but eager to help. “Y-you can be excused from activities until she can get back to Vox!”

Angel scooped you up, preparing to take you to his room when he was stopped by the sound of Husk’s gruff voice.

“Whatcha say, Whiskers? I can’t fuckin hear ya from here!”

Husk groaned, annoyed at having to repeat himself. “I said, Alastor ain’t gonna be fuckin happy about this.”

A figure emerged from the shadows, his grin tighter and more strained than usual.

“i thought i smelt rabbit! Has our dear bunny found herself in trouble, hm?” His teasing tone was lost on the crowd, you soft pants and whimpers permeating the otherwise silent room.

“I see, well im afraid i cannot allow this, my dear. You see, you associate with the television, and i cannot allow that sort of business in this hotel, understand?” The static in his voice grows thick, his irritation audible, but you struggle to understand anything, everythung buried in a hazy fog of lust and need.

“C’mon, Al, cut her some slack. The poor bunny’s in heat and needs help.”

“Hm, no can do, my effeminate fellow! Off she goes!” His grin is so stretched it bares his gums, as his jaw clenches, seemingly holding back from something.

“Satan, you are such a fuckin ass! Promise me you’ll at least get her to Val safely, you fucker! I ain’t strong enough to get both of us through that carnage while her stench literally screams sex. ”

“Hm, i suppose that i can do.” Alastor takes you from Angel’s arms, carrying you bridal style as the both of you returned to the shadows.

“Cutie! Don’t hesitate to call! I’ll come help if ya need me babes!”

You vaguely recognise Angel’s voice through the fog, distracted by the intoxicating scent enveloping you. Grabbing on to Alastor’s chest, you bury your head in his neck, sniffing him deeply, inhaling his musky scent, the pheromones making your head spin as you whine in pleasure.

You can make out Alastor muttering curses under his breath, his smile straining as his grip on you tightened.

“My darling, you smell truly delectable, i can barely contain myself. I wonder how you would taste…”

You whine and grab at him, craving contact, attention, to be touched. The ache between your legs was growing painful, your slick coating your thigh and soaking through your panties.

“A-Al, p-please h-help me~” you plead with him, begging to be touched, to be bred. His grip continues to tighten, bordering painful, until his resolves finally snapped.

Pinning you against the nearest wall, his sharp and yellowed teeth attacked you neck, biting harshly and licking the wounds, eager to draw blood, to taste you. Lapping up the blood beading from his teeth marks, Alastor groaned at the taste, the intoxicating taste of bunny blood. Rabbit meat was rare in hell, and hard to come by, but had always been a personal favourite of the cannibal.

“Fuck, my darling, you truly are delicious. I could just eat you up right now.” He chuckled darkly at your pained whimpers and terrified whines, continuing to suck bruises onto your flesh, leaving love bites and hickies, marking his territory before handing you over to Valentino as promised.

“If only you scent wasn’t plagued by the stench of that television, perhaps i would keep you all to myself this time. Oh well, perhaps next time my darling. Until we meet again.”

And with that, Alastor disappeared, leaving you collapsed on the floor in front of Valentino’s appartment.

With gentle whine and moan, you dragged yourself on shaky legs to the door, knocking and scratching on it until you received an answer.

“Who the fuck is there, hm? I’m fuckin’ off the clock, don’t bother me putas!” Val yanked the door open looking left and right before dropping his eyes to you, his grin widening.

“Awh, my poor little coñejita~ what’s happened, bebé?” Val cooed at you, blowing thick red smoke in your face as you tried to formulate a response through the haze and confusion.

“M-mr Val, i-i need help. M-mr Vox i-is gone, a-and my h-heat s-started. P-please h-help me, s-sir…” you started to tear up out of discomfort, the intense desire proving too much for you to handle as you made grabby hands to Val, who just cooed and scooped you up, closing the door behind you both.

Val chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing.“Don’t worry your pretty little head, bebé. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, hm~”

A/N: So excited to write these next few chapters lol. It’s getting fun and horny

Tags: @enby-rising @whocaresimnothere @christineblood @sirenetheblogger @vash-yuu

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin vox #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #smut #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #baby bunny

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wnobin · 4 months

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BIT BY BIT… 💭 anton lee socmed! au

pairing: college student! anton x campus crush! reader

genre: college! au, social media! au with written portions, slow burn, pining, strangers to friends to lovers.

series synopsis: in which the quiet girl in anton’s language class who seems to never sit with anyone catches his attention. anton makes it his mission to get closer to her bit by bit and break down her walls. the only issue? she’s the last to arrive and first to leave, never allowing anton the chance to approach her.

series masterlist | 09: eunseok’s toothbrush

chaewon was currently dragging you by your ear, your whines echoing in the empty corridors as eunchae rubbed her eyes, still tired from the events of last night. events, which consisted of the two of you finishing a whole container of melatonin gummies while watching monsters inc. “it’s literally 1pm and practice starts at 12! it’s your first time meeting the team and you’re gonna start off with a bad impression?”

“i already know eunseok, sungchan and shotaro so it’s not exactly my first time, is it?” you held your ear that was stinging with pain when chaewon finally let go of it, who was now choosing to now drag you and eunchae by your hands into the gymnasium. the three of you were met by the sight of the team members resting by the bleachers and downing their waters, but what caught your eye was your brother and his roommate wrestling on the ground while someone else was videoing it. “what was that about us leaving a bad impression on… them?”

“oh god, not again. y/n, can you grab your brother, i’ll get the other one.”

“how long have you been using my toothbrush?!”

“too long to remember!”

holding in your laughter, you grabbed eunseok by his shoulders and mustered all the strength you had to pry him away from sungchan, who was being held back by chaewon telling shotaro to put his phone down and help her.

“were you losing? seriously, eunseok?”

anton wasn’t paying attention to the fight that was happening in front of him, used to the sight of the two roommates bickering and eventually making up after ten minutes. until he heard a familiar voice, a voice he only ever heard during japanese 101. his head immediately snapped up, eyes no longer glued to his phone screen and instead watching a whining eunseok push your hands away while you laughed. “c’mon y/n, he was using my toothbrush! for god knows how long! let me beat him up!”

seunghan lifted his head at the same time, recognising your voice and elbowing anton’s side excitedly. the younger male simply watched the sight in silence, mouth hanging open slightly in shock.

oh my god. what are you doing here? are you dating eunseok? how do you know eunseok? you’re the new team manager and the captain’s girlfriend? oh god.

a million thoughts raced through anton’s mind, blocking out the sound of chaewon scolding the two roommates for fighting each other and also shotaro for filming and not stopping it. all he could focus on was how wide you were smiling, smiling at eunseok and sungchan.

“anton? hello, earth to anton?” sohee waved his hands in front of anton’s face, bringing him back to reality, the rest of his team going over to chaewon who was about to introduce the new team managers. as much as he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, anton had to act like everything was fine and took a deep breath before joining the rest of his friends.

“as i told you guys, you’ll be getting not one, but two team managers that’ll help you guys out after i graduate. this is eunchae, a first year majoring in early childhood education,” the shorter girl gave a lazy wave to the team, anton recognised her from some of his classes, but they had never interacted before. he turned to look at sohee who had excitedly greeted her, raising an eyebrow to which sohee simply mouthed the word ‘spanish’. “and this one over here is y/n, a first year majoring in nursing so she’ll be the one taking care of you guys when you get injured.”

“she’s also our captain’s little sister, so do be nice to her!”

eunseok’s little sister? anton couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but it didn’t sound all that unbelievable. you and eunseok were both rather tall, and the more he looked at you, he could see the resemblance between you two. same eyebrows and same nose.

you waved at the team but you were looking in anton’s direction, your eyes on him. at this point, his mind had gone blank and he was just absentmindedly waving back at you with the most dazed look on his face. “do you know anton?” eunseok asked, noticing the way you only looked at the youngest in the team. “yeah, we’re in the same japanese class.”

“japanese class? doesn’t anton have a cr—“

before sungchan could finish his sentence, wonbin clasped a hand over his mouth and dragged him away from the conversation, saying they had to go to the bathroom, before he revealed anton’s secret. seunghan who was trying to hold in his snickers eventually couldn’t hold it back anymore, erupting in laughter alongside sohee who was losing it too. everyone else seemed equally as confused as to why sungchan was dragged away mid-sentence and why seunghan and sohee were close to tears while anton looked like his soul just left his body.

he wasn’t sure if he should be thankful or not that you were his sister, and not his girlfriend. but one thing that he was thankful for was the fact that both you and your brother were just as oblivious as each other.

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winchester-reload · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Dean/Cas

Tags: hurt/comfort, canon divergent, idiots in love

Read on AO3

All right, we’re officially outta gauze. We talkin’ about it?”

Cas sighed. His eyes swam along the ceiling, just as they’d been doing the entire evening. Through every stitch and wrap, he wouldn’t bring ’em down. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said quietly. “It was just bad luck.”

“Uh uh. This ain’t bad luck. Bad luck is what Sammy’s gonna have if I lose you messy on a bad hunt. So how bout you go ahead and try that for me again.”

“It was just supposed to be one mimic—”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation— You know better than that!”

“Things happen, Dean. Things outside of our control. This was that. Things happened. It was a bad lead, but I made it out. That’s what should matter right now.”

Dean shook his head, tossed an empty gauze roll, now just a cardboard skeleton, and watched it clatter against the tin garbage can. Roll away. Tip and settle on its side near the door. It felt like it’d wobbled into his gut. He fussed at a frayed string along the fresh wrap at Cas’ chest, red already weeping through the cotton. He waited. When Cas still didn’t look at him, he sloughed the whole nurse routine and slid gentle fingertips up the bruises on his neck. Kissed the rough turn of his jaw as he planted a knee on the bed and stretched over him, careful of where he put his weight. Stopping only as Cas reluctantly caught his eye. “Yeah, it does matter,” Dean agreed. “Which is why you can’t just rip your grace out and run, balls out, toward the first hunt you find. I don’t care how good you are. You shoulda told me. Or you should’ve at least told Sam.”

“I did tell Sam—“

“Before it was a 9-1-1, Cas! Okay? Before! That wasn’t okay, and I’m pissed at you for it!”

Tears cropped up in Cas’ eyes, the deep frown in his brow waning to worry. “I know,” he relented. “I’m pissed at me too. It was stupid.”

“It was stupid—damn stupid.” Dean felt it go, the little water balloon of emotions in his chest that used to have brick sides and no air holes. It was exposed now, popped easily with Cas’ pins. “I can’t lose you, you understand? Not again. I don’t think I could come back from it.” Tears ate down his face, and Cas urgently chased them, trying to thumb them away. Like the whole world would fall with them if they got down too far.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, exhaustion, maybe pain, finally winning out in his stubborn body. Or maybe he just couldn’t handle seeing Dean raw. Maybe that’s what shattered him every damn time. “It was just supposed to be one Mimic. Just one Mimic.” His own tears escaped, rolled through his temples into his hair, then onto the soft pillow behind his head, and Dean suddenly felt compelled to stop those too.

“All right, that’s enough.” He kissed Cas’ cheek, the wet trail at his temple. Dragging the tip of his nose gently alongside Cas’ again, where it belonged. It was easy sometimes to forget he was a warrior. A real one, not like Dean. He was Heaven-forged and army-trained. At one time, he was the leader of his own battalion. An angel strong enough to crack God’s hold and receptive enough to learn to love. Wise enough to understand the weight of both. And all of that was tucked into a fragile human now, healing beneath the sheets of Dean’s bed. A thought that made Dean feel unbelievably tiny and incomparably huge.

“We’re okay,” he said as he kissed Cas' mouth. Then, “You’re okay now,” because that seemed even more important. A smile finally broke away from him, running wild against the heat on Cas’ skin. “I can’t believe you got all seven vamps on your own, you showoff.”

#happy canon day!#something small for you all 💙💚#destiel #destiel art #my art #my fic

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zepskies · 7 months

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Hey, I’ve really enjoyed reading your imagines. Would you be up for writing one where either Dean / Solider Boy / Beau, I don’t mind, has done something to upset/piss off the reader and goes out his way to make it up to her and then it’s all fluffy? I’m definitely in the readers position right now and hoping that’s what’s happening! Thank you.

Hey lovely anon!

Ooh this is interesting. So you didn't exactly ask for this, but this is where my mind went. I really enjoyed doing an imagine called "How Dean, Beau, and Ben would react to seeing your breast reduction scars."

So I'm going to do this one in that style...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, arguments, hurt/comfort, fluff

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Ben would make up for pissing you off.

Dean Winchester

Readers of Devour Me will recognize this scenario...

Dean can be an asshole sometimes. He knows it, but that side of him tends to come out along with his protective side.

He gave you...what you would consider a "firm suggestion" on a hunt. In his mind, it was a warning you were meant to follow: hang back.

The vampire nest was bigger than you guys expected.

You jumped in to save the woman they were keeping chained...but she was already drained dry. A vamp caught you, but before you could swing your knife, hot teeth sank into your neck.

Your scream rang through the air, tearing from your throat.

Dean's machete soon followed, killing the vampire and saving you in the process. He hid the depths of his worry. His fear, when he heard your scream, saw the monster bearing on you.

He buried the true depths of that turmoil and later holds you while Cas heals you. You thank him with a sigh and look up at Dean. Before you can apologize for ignoring his warning, his words simultaneously cut you to the bone and spark a blaze:

"I hope you learned your damn lesson," he says.

"Excuse me?" you hotly reply.

"You fucking heard me! When I say 'hang back,' I mean it. Hang the hell back."

"I've been hunting long before I met you, Dean."

"Yeah, well. Color me surprised that you've made it this long."

And that sparks the knock-down drag-out fight you and Dean have in the dirty, blood-splattered barn in the middle of nowhere. Even Sam and Cas are uncomfortable in the midst of you and Dean as they deal with the bodies of the vamps.

You don't let Dean touch you that night, even though you two still share the same bed. You sleep turned away from him, curled in on yourself.

He doesn't know how to make you understand. The sight of you with blood covering your neck and shoulder, running down over and under your shirt...

He hates it more than anything.

Even in the morning, the memory of your scream rings in his ears.

You've woken up before him, leaving your side of the bed empty. He wanders into the kitchen and finds you with your cup of coffee, stirring the creamer in for far too long. He watches you for a moment. He sees you're lost in thought. Maybe your eyes are a bit haunted.

He hates that too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets. His voice is still a deep rumble, but his gentleness is an olive branch.

You recognize that, and your own features soften. The truth is, you're too upset and spent to be angry anymore. You really just need him back.

He guides you into his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead, and sighs.

"...Look, I'm sorry," he says. He's grateful, even for this moment. Because it means you're safe, with him.

"I'm sorry too," you reply. You squeeze him tighter and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

Dean hesitates. His heart clenches, both with warmth and the fear of what could have been. He lets out another deep breath as his fingers soothe through your hair.

"Love you too."

Beau Arlen

Don't let that adorable scruff fool you. Beau has his moments, just like everyone else...

You don't want to feel like the jealous "other woman." Because that certainly isn't what you are.

You and Beau have been dating for a while now. You know this is something special. He is special. A big-hearted man who leads by example, and makes his daughter a priority in his life.

You admire that more than anything. You've come to love Emily as well...

However, he's been consistently cancelling on you. Dates you'd planned, dinners you'd made, "office picnics" at the precinct that got rain-checked more than the goddamn weather channel.

It seems like any time you and Beau try to carve out a moment for each other, it gets waylaid by something that "just can't wait."

Sometimes it's due to the demands of his job (which you understand).

But more often, it's because he seems to drop everything to heed his ex-wife's requests, large and small. From moving boxes in downsizing her house, to picking up her dry cleaning.

Carla always laces her requests (demands) with something understandable, like dropping off Emily at school. As a lawyer, she's smart like that.

But you're smart too, and you see her game.

She's slowly but surely wrapping Beau around her finger, and it's driving you insane.

"Can't you see she's manipulating you?!" you finally ask him. Your hands gesture widely, your brows are knitted together, and so are Beau's. His mouth is pressed in a line.

"The hell do you mean?" he asks.

"Exactly what I'm saying," you retort. "She asks you to jump, and you say, How high, darlin'?"

Part of him wants to smile at your exaggerated Texan approximation of him. But mostly, he's irritated.

"That's not true! I'm just trying to do right by her. She's the mother of my kid--"

Your hand presses against your forehead.

"I know that, Beau. Of course I do," you say. Against your will, your deepest fears take hold. They make you feel ugly inside for thinking them, let alone saying them.

"But...either she wants you back, or maybe you want her."

Beau's frown deepens. "What? What're you talkin' about."

He tries to grab your hand, but you evade him. You cross your arms to give you the excuse you need to hold yourself together.

He blows out a frustrated breath and shakes his head. "She left me, remember?"

"Things change. Feelings change," you say hotly. Your eyes run over his face, as if trying to search his heart.

Beau finally understands just what you're thinking. He softens.

And then his expression firms.

"Not for me," he says.

He reaches for you. You allow him to grasp your elbows. He steps closer into your line of vision until his broad frame is all you can see, but you refuse to look up at him. Not until his curled finger prods under your chin, raising your face up to his.

His face lacks the jovial nature he usually carries, with a side of teasing that usually drives you crazy and lightens your heart in equal measure.

No. Right now, he's serious. His thumb grazes your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Your eyes are lowered, with unshed tears swimming in them. Until Beau presses his lips to your cheek. Your eyes close, and you take in the tenderness of his touch. The smell of his cologne.

When you next open your eyes, he's smiling softly down at you. It leads you to smile a little.

"It'd be nice if you didn't cancel on me so much then," you can't help but mutter, a bit petulantly.

Beau's smile slips a bit. "I sure am sorry about that. And I'll talk to Carla. But uh..."

The rest of his good humor fades. "She mentioned something about taking Emily back to Houston."

Your eyes widen. Your hand moves to grip his wrist. "What?"

"I guess I was just...tryin' to butter her up a bit. If she settled in that new house, had everything she needed, maybe she'd stop thinking about leaving," he admits. "I want her to do what's best for Emily, but...I don't know if I can take it if she's in a whole other state."

You bite your lip. You try to soothe him with your fingers carding through his hair. You pull him into your embrace, and the roles of comfort reverse.

"You do need to talk to Carla," you say. "But I want to help, in whatever way I can. You just let me know."

You can't see it, but Beau smiles as he holds you a fraction tighter.

"You already are."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ugh, this (lovable) bastard...

There are a lot of opportunities to piss you off, and Ben has a habit of taking them.

He's protective, misogynistic (though you're surely trying with him), and doesn't give two shits about modern social protocols like tolerance and respect.

Nor does he give a fuck about being "nice" or "pleasant" if he doesn't want to. (And he never wants to.)

When he pisses you off, however, you have to pick your battles.

You're as patient as you can be with him, knowing all of his idiosyncrasies and foibles as well as you've come to learn them.

But when he nearly snaps a man's arm off for grabbing your ass in a musky club, you have to draw the line.

(Ben settled for jabbing the man in the face, hard enough to toss him back into an entire row of glasses. You'd winced at the man's scream of pain as glass shattered into his back.)

When you send your boyfriend a look, he's both unfazed and unapologetic.

"What, would you rather have that greasy fuck pawing all over you? No one's gonna have the balls to cop a feel right in front of me, unless they want 'em shoved up their ass."

You make a face of disgust, roll your eyes, and angrily storm out of the club. Ben follows you, now getting just as irritated. He grabs your arm and turns you around.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he demands. You raise a brow.

"Not everything is an affront to your manhood," you reply testily. "Are you really protecting me, or is it just your petty pride that another man would dare touch what's 'yours?'"

You turn to walk away from him, but he grabs you again. This time by the hand. He barely resists the urge to yank you back.

No, Ben waits for you to choose. To turn back to him. You're frowning in your anger, but even he can see the thread of hurt deep down. The fear that his motivations are only selfish.

His jaw ticks. But he sighs through his nose. "Come 'ere."

Reluctant though you seem, you take a chance in drawing back into him. His arms circle around you, with those heavy hands splaying across your lower back. He cages you securely against him and looks down you. His eyes are a fraction softer.

"You are mine," he says. "I'm not gonna let these cocksuckers forget it. Because I've got plenty of enemies who'd do more than just touch you."

It sucks to be reminded of that fact, but it's the cold reality. Still, you soften, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

He's trying to send the world a clear message: he won't tolerate bullshit, of any kind. Least of all with you.

That, you can appreciate.

And you lean up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Knowing Ben, it doesn't stay sweet for long.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 Lots of angst diverted into hurt/comfort and fluff, there.

Do you guys like these Dean/Beau/Ben "reacts?" Let me know! 😉

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indouloureux · 2 years

Note

Y/n being a little shit in Public so Eddie punishes her for it. Rough!dom!mean!eddie

no bc (overstimulation + degradation + humiliation + daddy kink + mentions of face sitting??) 18+ mdni

eddie handcuffing you to his bed, legs spread to the point where you feel like you're gonna be ripped in half. and eddie's hovering over you with a wand vibrator turned to its full intensity as he's pushing it against your clit.

you're crying and he feels no remorse for the pain that you're feeling; because he knows damn well that pain amalgamates well with the tactless bliss that buzzes through your entire body. you feel like you're in flames, and eddie's holding the gasoline in his hand.

"eddie," you whine. "i ca- i can't."

"yes you can," he spits. you feel embarrassed that he's fully clothed and you aren't, and you can see a wet splotch right on his chest that you made. "been so fucking needy all day. now i'm giving you what you wanted and you can't take it?"

with the vibrator pushing your puffy lips apart, he slaps your clit. harsh with the impact of his rings. you mewl, head throwing back, wrists aching from the handcuffs.

"you're gonna fucking take it," with the vibrator on the verge of pushing inside you, eddie uses his other hand to take your face between his thumb and fingers, hovering over you with dusk eyes; brown almost black with his pupils widened in hedonistic arousal. "i'm gonna fuck you with this. and you're gonna take it like the ungrateful slut you are."

he pushes the head in with no warning. your head only breaks away from his grasp when you dig it deeper onto his pillow, tears staining your cheeks as your mouth parts in a loud, yell-ish moan as he sinks it in like it's his cock. eddie watches the way your pussy engulfs it's large head, unstopping until it's fully in you.

"i ca- i can't," he mocks with a sardonic pout. "a whore would take this entire thing in her. look at you,"

eddie leans down to take a tit into his mouth, sucking and biting on your nipple as he begins to thrust the vibrator into you. and fuck, the stretch hurts good, with the way it barely fills you up but enough to penetrate you and ease the emptiness you felt since he'd ripped your clothes.

and he doesn't go slow. he's fucking it in a moderate pace that goes deep at every thrust.

"f-fuck, eddie— oh!" eddie slithers his hand beneath your head to grasp at your hair, knowing with the way your hips stutter meant you're close. he fucks it deeper, to the point the vibrator's almost halfway in and your belly's bulging.

when the wave of your orgasm comes for the fifth time, coming out in this translucent liquid that like earlier, knowing it'll stain his bed, eddie chuckles menacingly as he sees you squirt again. your cum leaking out of your stretched hole. he plunges the vibrator out, and while it still buzzes, he licks your cum clean off.

"you think you deserve my cock," he drags the wand up and down your bare stomach, wetting your skin. "you've been a brat all day. i don't think you deserve daddy's dick."

"please," you sob, eyes forcing to meet his when he grasps your face. "please, daddy. i want your cock. i've learned my lesson. please please please—"

"please please please," he mocks again. "give me another one, then. but open your mouth, gonna fucking shove my cock down your throat first."

this is as mean and as rough as i can get

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #blurb #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction

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agaypanic · 6 months

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Reese Wilkerson x Y/N jealous smut pls!! Reader is rly popular n her little jock friends are flirting HARD w her & Reese doesn’t like it at all. Fluffy ending too 🥹 I absolutely love your work & appreciate everything you do. You’re my star.

He Can't Have You (Reese Wilkerson X Cheerleader!Reader Smut)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Being the cheer captain, you have a few boys that would do anything to get a date with you. But only one has your heart, and he wants everyone to know about it.

A/N: “you’re my star” im sobbing omg. also kinda feel like i got a lil carried away idk🧍‍♀️

CW: p in v intercourse, semi public sex (car in an empty parking lot), dumbification, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), angry sex, marking up, slight thigh riding, orgasm denial, overstimulation

***

Reese stared in anger with furrowed brows at the front gates of the high school. He had come to pick you up from cheer practice, but you were being held up by some stupid jock on the football team. Despite being far away, he knew the guy was flirting with you, trying to catch a glimpse at any skin he could see, which was a lot, considering your cheer uniform consisted of a short skirt and sleeveless top.

Sadly, this was a regular occurrence. Reese couldn’t really blame him or any of the other guys that flirted with you. You were popular, beautiful, and sweet to everyone.

But you also made it very clear that you were taken. And even though everyone knew Reese could beat their ass, some liked to try their luck.

Especially the football captain. Reese didn’t care enough to remember his name. All he knew was that he was your friend, and since you were captain of the cheer team, you were around him a lot.

Reese was finally taken out of his thoughts when he saw your friend laugh at something you said and put his arm around your shoulders. He jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind him as he walked to you with clenched fists.

“Hey, Reese!” You said when you saw him, lighting up.

“Hey, babe.” He responded, putting a slight emphasis on the nickname. He knocked the jock’s arm off of you, replacing it with his own. “Ready to go?” He asked, glaring at your friend.

“Yup!” You said, giving your friend a small wave. “See you later.”

Reese practically dragged you away, although he tried to be gentle.

“Are you okay, Reese?” You asked, looking up at him. He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the car’s back door and stared at you, wordlessly telling you to get in. Confused, you crawled in, sitting on the far side of the car so Reese could sit in the back with you.

“I hate the way he looks at you,” Reese grumbled, shutting the door. “He always acts like you’re his girl or something.”

“Who? Mike?” Reese’s mood worsened, wondering why you felt the need to name the dickhead. “Reese, he’s just a friend.”

“Does he know that?” He asked bitterly, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Why are you rolling your eyes at me?”

“Because you’re being ridiculous.” You laughed, but discreetly squeezed your thighs at the way your boyfriend was looking at you. His eyes were darkened by anger and lust, and he leaned in closer to you.

“Maybe I should fuck that attitude out of you.” Your breath hitched, heat rising to your cheeks. “Give you and all your little jock buddies a reminder that you’re taken.”

You let a whimper slip out, giving Reese permission to kiss you roughly. He wrapped his arms around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap. As his lips trailed down to suck on your neck, Reese guided your hips to grind back and forth on his thigh.

“Reese… marks…” You moaned, overwhelmed with stimulation. He pulled away and stopped all movements, making you whine. Reese’s eyes darted from your neck to your thighs, which were barely covered by your cheer skirt.

“You’re right.” He sighed, drumming his fingers on your hips as he thought. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just go at your neck until it looked like you were attacked by a vampire. As cheer captain, you had a reputation to uphold, an example to set. And Reese knew you’d complain about having to cover the hickeys every day until they faded away.

So he decided to go for the next best thing.

You yelped in surprise as he abruptly took you off his lap and laid you down on the back seat. Reese’s head dived underneath your skirt, where he immediately started nipping and sucking at your inner thighs. You moaned breathlessly, waiting for his mouth to travel to where you needed him.

But his lips never strayed. It was like he wanted to torture you, making you more and more needy by being so close to giving you what you wanted but not willing to give it to you. Whenever you tried to squeeze your thighs to find relief, Reese pried your legs apart with his hands, nails digging into your ass and thighs.

Eventually, Reese pulled away to admire his work. His staring made you shy, but his hands prevented you from trying to hide your marked-up thighs and panties, which were probably damp with your arousal.

“Now, whenever you’re on the pyramid, and those assholes try to get a look at your ass…” Reese said, hand brushing over your clothed pussy, making you whine and squirm in hopes for more. “They’re gonna know you’re not theirs to look at.”

“Please, Reese.” You whimpered, looking up at him. “Need you so bad.”

“Oh yeah? You need me, baby?” Reese cooed, hovering over you to kiss your pouting lips. He laughed when you tried chasing him when he pulled away to unbutton and unzip his jeans. Wanting to speed up the process, you pulled your panties down as far as you could, and Reese yanked them the rest of the way off your legs.

Reese manhandled you, moving you around to put you in a better position before pulling his stiff cock out of his boxers. He swiped the tip through your folds to collect some of your wetness and pumped himself a few times before slipping in.

You arched your back at the feeling of being filled, moaning loudly and eyes rolling back. Reese wasted no time to pound into you, watching your tits bounce from the force of his thrusts. He flipped your skirt up so he was able to see himself disappear inside of you, smirking at the sight. You writhed around in pleasure, movements slightly restricted by the small backseat and Reese hovering over you.

“So good…” Your words almost slurred together, relishing in all the feelings and pleasure Reese was giving you. “S’good, Reese.”

“Bet that asshole couldn’t fuck you like this, huh?” Reese growled.

“Nuh-uh.”

“What was his name again?” He was baiting you. He could see the fucked out look on your face and wondered if you would even remember the name that you’d given him just a few minutes ago. You mumbled something, panting heavily. “Use your words, Y/n.”

“I dunno.” You said. The only things on your mind were Reese and your impending orgasm; there was no room for anything else. Reese laughed, thrusts getting rougher.

“So cock drunk that you can’t remember?” He asked in a sweetly condescending tone. You nodded. “Fucking you dumb so you can’t think of anything but me… Wanna keep you like this.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You got louder with each word, so close to the edge, body begging to be pushed over. “I’m gonna come, I’m so close.”

Hearing that, Reese pulled out completely, breathing hard. You almost cried in frustration as you felt your climax slowly slip away.

“Good girls come,” Reese said, staring down at you.

“I’ll be good.” You replied immediately. “So, so good. I promise, please.”

“Gonna be my good girl?” Reese asked, hands grasping your ankles. You nodded furiously.

You thanked whatever higher being was out there when Reese accepted your pleas. You also thanked them for letting you be so flexible when he pushed your legs up, knees to your chest, before ramming back into you. You shuddered at the new angle that Reese’s cock was hitting you; he felt deeper inside you than ever before.

It wasn’t long before your orgasm crept back up on you. Sensing you were close again by the way your walls were fluttering around him, Reese played with your clit and gripped your marked-up thigh tighter.

“Gonna…” You tried to speak, but the words were caught in your throat. “I’m… gonna… fuck!” A wave of pleasure washed over you as you climaxed, coming all over Reese’s dick. He didn’t let up, slamming his hips into yours and rubbing your clit to ride you through your orgasm. Reese didn’t slow his movements when you came down from your high. You whined at the overstimulation. “Too much, Reese.” You muttered, feeling another orgasm quickly approaching.

“Thought you were my good girl,” Reese said, and you nodded in confirmation. He smiled down at you. His movements stuttered as he was on the brink of his own high, trying to hold you as close to him as he could in the position you were in.

Reese groaned when he came, his orgasm triggering your own. He stiffened, savoring the feeling of your spent pussy pulsing around him.

When you both came down from your highs and relaxed, Reese unfolded your legs, letting them stretch along the backseat of the car as he laid down between them, head resting on your chest. You looked at your surroundings, saw completely fogged windows, and hoped you were still the only ones in the school parking lot.

“I really don’t like it when your friends flirt with you,” Reese said, much more softly than any other time he had spoken today.

“I know.” You responded, hand cupping the back of his head in comfort. “I don’t really like it either. I’ll talk to them, tell them to stop.”

“Thank you,” Reese said, reaching up to kiss you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Reese ran his hand up and down the side of your thigh, looking down at the red and purple splotched skin.

“That’s so hot.” He muttered to himself, getting a laugh and a playful slap to the shoulder from you.

***

Malcolm in the Middle Taglist: @rattilol

Reese Wilkerson Taglist: @hollymaybank @theogirlovermattheogirl

#agaypanic #reese wilkerson #reese wilkerson x reader smut #reese wilkerson x reader #malcolm in the middle #malcolm in the middle x reader

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trenchcoatimpala · 2 months

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Don't Fade

More of the same. Read also on archive

Dean wasn’t going to admit that it was awkward. Cas had been back for three days and he hadn’t been able to say anything. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, or if he could even find the words to make sense of what was going on in his head. Cas was patient, he didn’t ask for anything, didn’t bring up that day and Dean didn’t know if he was disappointed about it or relieved.

He’d hugged Cas within an inch of his newfound life when the ritual had worked and the angel had appeared before him and Sam in the library. He may have cried but Sam wouldn’t know that and Cas knew well enough not to mention it, and why shouldn’t he cry? When a guy confesses his love to you and then dies you’re allowed to cry when he comes back.

The problem with it all was that Dean didn’t actually know how he felt about Cas. He knew he cared about him, deeply, more than he’d ever cared about anyone except for Sam, but he also knew that he didn’t love Cas like he loved Sam. He said he did. Always calling Cas brother and friend, but there was something scratching at the surface of those words, something unspoken that Dean tried to suck the air from so it withered and died and he could leave it buried.

But it was like that feeling thrived on being smothered,it was even more desperate the longer he let it simmer, suffocating under dirt and grit as worms tried to eat it, but it only grew stronger. A pull in his heart that yanked him by a chain, dragging him up and down a proverbial road, and he couldn’t shake it, couldn’t drown it, couldn’t burn it to the ground, it clung to him like a parasite, and he should admit it was a welcome one, but he couldn’t. Admitting it made it real and if it was real he could lose it. He’d already lost Cas, too many times, and each time was as unbearable as the last, as if he was the one suffocating, buried in his own grave with panic brawling in his chest as he tried to dig himself out.

And he knew what that was like. The first time Cas had touched him had been to put him back in his grave and since then Dean had been gravitating towards him, wanting that touch to consume him. He’d often found himself staring at the handprint on his shoulder in the days following Cas’ sacrifice. It was a faint outline now, weathered by time. And terror had crashed into him as he realized this time Cas being gone might be for real, and this would be the first place Castiel, Angel of the Lord had touched him, as well as the last, and the remnants of that first time were all but a few bumps on pink flesh, and the shadow of the last time was fading fast in crusted blood on a jacket he couldn’t bear to throw away.

Tears had poured hot and unsteady down his cheeks as he looked at the handprint he’d bore for the past twelve years. He didn’t have anyone left to pray to or believe in, but in that moment, staring at the reflection of what he had left of his best friend, the words came out of him, a wretched sob curled up in a plea; the sister of a prayer: “Don’t fade.”

“Please don’t fade, don’t go, you can’t leave me,” Dean begged. “Not all of you, please, this is all I have left.”

Don’t fade.

He had chanted over and over again, and yeah, okay, maybe Dean did know how he felt about Cas, and maybe that was why it was so awkward to be around him. What if Cas had changed his mind in the empty? What if he didn’t love him anymore? What if he didn’t know how? What if Dean didn’t know how to let someone in like that? What if an angel and human couldn’t even be together? Was there some kind of law against it? There probably should be. But Dean also didn’t want to care about all that because for once in his life he had a shot at something that would make him happy and shouldn’t he take it? Didn’t he deserve it? After everything he’d been through, everywhere his body had been dragged across the Earth by an Archangel, all the times his psyche had been toyed with, didn’t he deserve to let himself love?

“Dean?”

Dean looked up to see Cas in his doorway and he realized he was sitting with his hand cradling his shoulder, the shoulder that was home to Cas’ burning touch. “Oh, uh, hey,” he said awkwardly, shifting on the bed.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Dean replied, forcing a smile.

Cas sighed, long suffering and sad. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“Cas-”

“No, Dean, if this is about what I said to you before I-”

“Before you died?” Dean finished for him, standing up so he could confront the angel. “Yeah, you know what, Cas, it is about what you said. How could you say that to me?”

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” Cas said quietly, barely managing to look at Dean.

Dean turned away from him, anger burning suddenly in his veins. “Is that supposed to make it better? What, you don’t think I can handle you being in love with me, so you leave it to a deathbed confession so you don’t have to find out!?”

“I knew you didn’t feel the same way,” Cas replied defensively. “I didn’t see any point in bringing it up to you sooner.”

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wait, so you just decided for me how I felt?” The confusion on Cas’ face only spurred Dean on. “You’re an idiot,” he snapped. “You don’t even know- God, Cas, you drive me fucking insane!”

“I don’t understand,” Cas said, tilting his head to survey Dean.

“How I feel about you,” Dean began, trying to reign himself in, “Cas, man, there aren’t words.” He shrugged off his flannel and pushed up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the handprint, “You gave me this, before we even properly met, and it’s all I had of you, every single time I lost you, it was the only thing I had left, and every day it gets harder and harder to see and you have no idea how much that hurts me. Because it’s like watching you fade away as if you never existed, as if we never had anything between us. And when you were gone I tried to remember what you sounded like, what it felt like when you healed me, how my name sounded when you said it, and I prayed for you back. I wanted it so badly I was dizzy with it. And now you’re here, and you dare to tell me you don’t think I love you back?”

Cas was staring at him, shock emanating from his very being. “I never thought- Dean, I don’t know what to say.”

“I have a lot of issues, which you know,” Dean said as he drew closer to Cas, “and one of those issues is not being very good at saying how I feel, or letting myself want things, but I want you, Cas. I don’t know when it started but I do, and I don’t know who I am without that want.” Cas was close now, his eyes blown wide in surprise and lust. “Touch me,” Dean begged, his lips mere inches from Cas’, “touch me like it’s the first time.”

Cas surged forward, one hand coming up to cup Dean’s cheek and the other to land on his shoulder. Fire surged through the contact and Dean felt the burn of Cas’ hand imprinting on his skin, refreshing a mark that had come to be Dean’s greatest companion, and the kiss that followed was a promise shaped in the hot brand of tongues sliding against tongues and prayers finally being answered.

tag list, ask to be added or removed

@undeadcas @tearsofgrace @hellerstiel @casgetoutofmyass0907 @wantstoflyafraidtofall @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @thepixelagora@thelahatiel @im-sam-fucking-winchester@piebook67 @bestiarum@theedeangirl@november5th@bixlasagna@ancient-fangirl@famouspsychicpizzabandit@you-cant-spell-subtext-without@bumbledumble1@cascigarette@addicted2demons @our-stars-graveside @fivefeetfangirl @evillittleguy

#how many times can I write the same thing over and over again?#destiel fic #destiel #spn #supernatural #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #my writing #trenchcoatimpala writes

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deancaspinefest · 2 months

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Broken (The Worst Is Over Now) | Rated: T | 45,229

Author: Trenchcoat_Paradigm | Artist: P3ngu

Dean almost couldn’t believe it when he saw that huddled body swaddled in a tan trenchcoat sitting in the middle of the dungeon floor. Cas was back. After months of searching, digging through the archives to find a way to drag his ass out of the Empty, they had finally done it.

But something was wrong.

This wasn’t the Castiel that smiled up at him with a tearful goodbye after revealing his true happiest moment. This was a wild, snarling beast of a man, warped and twisted, feral thanks to the damage of the Empty. A man who would probably rip out Dean’s throat rather than confess his love.Even when Dean breaks through that wild exterior, he discovers that Castiel still thinks he’s trapped in the hell that is the Empty. That nothing around him is real.

Dean just has to get through to him.

Link to fic | Link to art

Pairings: Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen

Warnings: None

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix it fic, Angst With Happy Ending, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Human Castiel.

Submitted by: Trenchcoat_Paradigm

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #destiel art #deancas fic #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #2024 masterpost #masterpost #submission #author: trenchcoat_paradigm #artist: P3ngu

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starstruckunknown-princess · 1 month

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Forget-me-not - Eddie Munson x Reader

Forget-me-not (Myosotis) - Meaning: Don't forget me, remembrance

Summary: Reader visits Eddie's grave. Little does she know what awaits her there.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 958

Warnings: Drug use (reader smokes weed), ANGST (with a happy-ish ending), dead!Eddie, Reader was part of ST4 events, cemetery setting, Vampire!Eddie, blood

Day 17 is another angsty one but I think it ends on a positive note. I love Eddie, and I fully believe the Cas storyline is what we'll see in season 5 cuz there's no freakin way I will just forget about this sweet metalhead, you hear me Duffers??

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You held your breath for as long as you could, feeling the smoke invade your lungs before sputtering it loose. The smoke filled the inside of your shitty beater car. You knew you’d reek of it for the rest of the day but you didn’t care.

You hadn’t cared about much for the last few months. Not since Eddie died.

Taking another hit, you glanced over at your passenger seat. A bundle of fresh cut flowers — white daisies, the flowers Eddie had brought you on your first date because he heard they were your favorite. A pang of sadness hit you right in the gut, like a punch and you blew out the smoke, feeling the calming effect of the weed.

You’d only been here a few times since the funeral. It was difficult to bring yourself here, to stand where his uncle had buried an empty coffin and pretend Eddie was down there instead of stuck in the hellish landscape that was the Upside-Down.

God, everything was so fucked up.

The whole town was convinced he was a bloodthirsty maniac who deserved what he got. Only you, Wayne, and Hellfire club knew him for what he’d been. A sweet, brave, incredible guy who lived in his imagination because reality was difficult.

He’d called you ‘princess’ and ‘love’ and drove you to and from school every day in his van, holding your hand the whole way there. He planted kisses on your cheeks when you passed in the halls and wrote you little love notes that he snuck between the pages of your notebook or textbooks so you’d find them later.

He’d been so gentle when he took your virginity (after having listened to your long-winded feminist rant about how virginity was a “bullshit patriarchal concept”). Every touch and sigh and moan etched on your memory forever. Afterward, he cleaned you up and wrapped you in his lanky arms and told you he loved you for the first time, his big doe eyes shining in the dim light of his room.

You’d been so incredibly, irrevocably in love with him. And he was gone.

If you didn’t get out of the car now, you never would, so you stubbed out your blunt and grabbed the flowers and got out. The cemetery was quiet, despite being next to a busy highway. It was early evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and casting everything in an orange glow. Walking through the rows and rows of headstones until you found the familiar name.

‘Edward Munson’

‘Now at Peace’

Except that wasn’t the truth. His body was rotting in another dimension, probably torn to shreds and completely unrecognizable by now.

“Hey, love,” you said to the chunk of granite. “I brought daisies.” You crouched, laying the bouquet in front of the headstone before plucking out a few longer blades of grass that threatened to obscure his name.

You sat down in front of it, not really sure what to do. Talk to him? Cry? Another long feminist rant about how you hated the idea of marriage but how you would’ve married him in a heartbeat?

Because you would’ve.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said, absentmindedly picking at the grass around you. “I should’ve gone with you and Dustin. I could have dragged you back so at least you’d be here and not there. If I’d been there, you’d be home. Or maybe you…” you trailed off with a long sigh. “It’s no use living in the past, is it? Except that’s where you are, it’s the only place you are right now and I can’t — how do I keep going on without you? I just want to hear you laugh again, Eddie. Feel your arms around me one more time…”

Tears spilled down your cheeks. The gaping wound in your chest reopened and you doubled over, letting yourself sob. You cried until the sun disappeared, at some point laying down on your side in the fetal position.

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep, because you woke up sometime later to a brush against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and you shivered in the chilly night air as you sat up, looking around. You had the strange feeling you weren’t alone.

The sound of leaves rustling behind you made you turn, and you choked on your gasp.

Sitting on top of his own headstone, looking a little worse for wear but still beautiful, was Eddie. His clothes were torn, but free of blood. His curls were frizzing out under his bandana, and his rings glinted in the moonlight.

He looked up at you from under his brow and smiled wickedly, “Hello, princess.”

You scrambled toward him, a fresh wave of tears falling down your cheeks. Eddie met you in the middle, kneeling in front of his headstone and welcoming you into his embrace which you dove into, clutching his leather jacket and burying your face in his neck.

“Shh, princess, I’m here,” he muttered soothingly. Placing kisses from your cheek down to your neck, you barely registered a pinching pain from his teeth. He groaned. “Ohh, you taste so good. Missed you so much, so sweet for me…”

You sniffled and pulled back from him to look him in the eyes — his big brown eyes that you swore you could drown in — but your gaze was drawn down to his chin, covered in something that made it dark. With a shaking hand, you reached up and traced his lower lip, gathering some of the substance.

Blood.

You looked back at Eddie, who was still holding you and gazing down at you like he always had. Full of love, hope, all-encompassing joy.

And then he smiled, revealing two long, razor-sharp fangs.

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson

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sapphichotmess · 3 months

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Always, Johnny

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader (Bonnie)

requested by @cas-backwards-tie

sorry for the long wait for this. funny enough, i have been in a depression and trying to write this (or anything) has been too much.

18+ mdni (my blog is 18+)

2k+ words

Warnings: awful writing + depression and what comes with it

It’s been months since Johnny was deployed.

At first, you were happy to keep texting when you could, maybe even a call or Facetime sprinkled in somewhere. But the happiness died after the first week alone in a seemingly colossal house. The rooms felt too big, too many. You barely move from the couch to the spare bedroom—you couldn’t stomach laying in your and Johnny’s shared bed, smelling his sweat and cologne embedded in the sheets from nights—and days—of sleeping and fucking.

Your phone lies uncharged on the living room floor, tossed in frustration, when yet another concerned text from Johnny popped up on the blank screen you are mindlessly staring at. The laptop you usually use to write is also lying uncharged somewhere—you don’t know or care where. You have called in to work multiple times this month, guilt gnawing at your empty stomach; you haven’t been able to stomach much more than a few nibbles of food if you gather the strength or motivation to get off the couch or spare bed, let alone make something to eat.

At the thought of food, your stomach grumbles angrily. At the sound, you sigh heavily, a shaky hand dragging through greasy strands of hair, causing you to cringe in disgust. You need a shower badly, but you just couldn’t get yourself to take one. If you got enough courage to drag your feet into the bathroom—maybe once a day, if that—you had just enough motivation to relieve your bladder and no more; just the thought of a shower made you even more exhausted.

Not only are you a mess—oily hair and skin, pimples popping up across your face from hormones and lack of cleansing, and week-old clothes rumpled and creased with over-use, stains splattered across t-shirt and sweatpants—but the house is too, despite its lack of use. In the kitchen, barely-eaten pre-packaged foods are sitting on the counter, dirty cups, plates, and utensils practically overflowing the sink, the trash can overflowing with paper plates and food packages, some in a pile at its base. The living room is in a similar state, with used tissues dotting the carpeted floor because the trash was full, multiple blankets scattered and balled up on the floor and couch, half-drank bottles of juice or water on any surface available, and pillows thrown about every which way. The plants across the house look wilted and sad from not having water. To top everything off, you have every light in the house off and windows blocked by curtains or blankets; not a drop of light is able to penetrate the coffin you made yourself.

Except for Johnny.

Johnny has been concerned about your lack of reply for weeks. Even while he was in active combat, his mind was on you. He knows how you can get, how your mood can plummet during this time of year, and your distance has scared him. His mind races with thoughts of what he would find when he got home—whether you were alive or not.

As his boots tread heavily on the gravel path up to their shared house, his heart races and pounds against his ribcage, raging to get out. He is terrified to open the door and find you lying in the middle of the living room, chest still and beautiful eyes closed. His notifications have been painfully empty of responses from you, and your chat is full of increasingly concerned texts from him.

He opens the white, wooden door with shaking hands. His lungs deflate of breath when he spies your hair piled over the arm of the couch, hanging limply. He rushes over, footfalls echoing across the empty house, not bothering to take his clunky boots off, close the door, or be quiet. Johnny doesn’t care about waking the neighbors or disturbing any wildlife around. He just wants to get to you.

Army-regulated boots thud to a stop in front of the couch, scarred, callused hands shaking as they cup your jaw tenderly, long middle and pointer fingers placed on your pulse. Hair moves with a shaky gust of air, and a chest deflates.

You are alive. You are here in his hands, pulse thundering under his fingers, eyes blinking open, and lashes fluttering against your cheeks. Blinking your eyes a couple of times, you focus on the weight on your jaw. A breath of air flutters across Johnny’s palm as you nuzzle further into his warmth. It takes you a minute to hear the sound of staggered breathing coming from in front of you, but when you do, your eyes snap open.

Your boyfriend is standing there in his civilian clothes, chest heaving and straining against his black hoodie. It takes another minute for your brain to process what is happening—Johnny’s home.

With the most energy you have had since he left months ago, you leap off the couch and launch yourself into his strong arms. As soon as his strong, muscled arms tightly grip you, you open the floodgates. Your hiccup with every breath and your blotchy face feels hot to the touch as you grip Johnny like a lifeline.

He is your lifeline.

And he just holds you tighter, gently rocking you back and forth as he trails a hand up to the back of your head, cupping it and holding your face against his neck. He doesn’t care about the tickling feeling of your tears falling down his muscle-corded neck or your hot breath on the now-wet skin. Johnny feels like he can breathe for the first time in weeks. You’re finally in his arms. You may be a little broken, but he can help you put the pieces back together again. He’s here, your Johnny, your soldier.

The first thing Johnny does when you pull away is take your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears from your face. He takes in your gaunt face, sunken cheekbones, and bags under your puffy and red-veined eyes—eyes that look so empty despite your joy at him being home.

“Oh, wee lass…I am so sorry.”

Choking on your breath, you mutter, “I love you,” and break down in tears again.

_____

The first thing Johnny does is carry you to and sit you down at your island. Johnny is determined to find you food, opening every cabinet and standing in front of it for minutes, looking in every nook and cranny to see if there is something you will be able to stomach. The squeaking and slamming of the opening and closing old wooden cabinets make your head ache.

Finally, Johnny lets out a short shout of joy, having found some canned soup that would be easy for you to stomach after such a long time without food. Opening the can into a bowl and throwing it in the microwave for a few minutes, Johnny clomps his way over to you, his work boots still on his feet.

“I missed ye, bonnie…I missed ye so much.”

“Johnny…” you breathe.

“Shhhh, bonnie lass, dinnae say nothin’. Save yer energy. Ah’ve got ya.”

He doesn’t let you say anything more, taking your face in his hands again, leaning down to flutter a kiss on your forehead, and stuffing his nose into your greasy hair. He doesn’t care that you’re dirty—he’s been in worse conditions—he just wants to feel that you are alive and remember what you smell like.

The beeping of the microwave sounds, causing you two to startle out of your stupors. Taking one last long look at your face, Johnny turns around and clomps back over to the microwave. He takes the soup out and grabs a soup spoon from the cabinet drawer just under the microwave. Walking on light feet to keep the soup from spilling, Johnny makes his way over to you. He sits the bowl in front of you, taking hold of your hands and bringing them to curve around the bowl, ensuring your hands are toasty warm.

Johnny sits and encourages you to eat until the bowl is empty and your stomach is full.

_____

The next thing Johnny does is carry you to your bathroom, delicately standing you on the fuzzy rug in front of the claw-footed bathtub. He rubs his hands up and down your gooseflesh-covered arms, trying to warm you up.

“Hey, bonnie,” he whispers as he tugs on the hem of the dirty oversized shirt you wear, “can I take this off?”

You hum in response, keeping your eyes down on your twiddling fingers.

“Bonnie…” Johnny takes his pointer and middle finger and puts them under your chin, pressing the front of your chin and lifting your head gently, “words, please.”

“You can take it off.”

At your words, Johnny moves his hand from your face and brings it back to the hem of your—his—shirt, pulling it up with slow movements and encouraging you to lift your arms when needed. When he has it over your head, he drops it unceremoniously to the cold, tiled floor. Then he settles his large, warm palms on your naked waist, waiting for your consent to take off the shorts you had on with brown, searching, puppy-dog eyes.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, searching his face for disgust as he leans down and peels the shorts from your legs.

You find none.

Instead, you see love and care reflected on his face, his body relaxed, and his mouth dropped open in awe as he stares at your naked form. Even in your most depressed form, he sees your beauty. Your eyes well up, waterline misting.

The choked sound you make trying to hold back your tears has Johnny’s head snapping up in concern, eyebrows pulled in, and a small frown pulling at his lips.

“Bonnie?”

“Y-you just—why do you love me?” you say with trembling lips.

Johnny’s lips turn downward at a sharper angle, eyebrows furrowing and wrinkles forming between brows. His overgrown mohawk ruffles as he shakes his head lightly

“Why wouldn’t I love you?”

“I have no excuse to be like this. Nothing has happened to me that made me this way.”

“You—”

“No. Johnny, it’s not fair to you. Not fair to have you come home from fucking war and have to take care of me.”

“Bonnie, it doesn’t bother me…You aren’t a bother or burden. Your mental health is important to me. I worry about you every time I leave.”

Now your eyebrows furrow, and hot, salty tears continue to fall from your eyes.

“But you shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

“My bonnie lass…I would worry whether or not you had depression. I hate leaving you in your apartment alone for months on end.” Johnny watches as your lip wobbles, bringing his hands to your face and wiping your tears with big thumbs. You let loose a sob at his words and gentleness.

“I don’t deserve you, Johnny.”

“Shhhh, lass. I’ve got ya,” he whispers, pulling your shivering form into his hard, warm body and running his hands up and down your back as you soak his shirt with salty tears.

“I-I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“Shuh, bonnie. I’m here…you don’t have to worry your pretty little head.”

After a few minutes of crying, you pull away from Johnny, wiping your running nose on the back of your hand. Johnny looks down at you with big blue eyes, softened with admiration and love.

“Let’s get you in the tub, bonnie. I’ll even wash your hair.”

You giggle slightly, lips turning up and eyes crinkling, nodding your head and letting him fully pull away from you. The cold air causes gooseflesh to prick up on your arms again. As you shiver slightly, you turn to watch Johnny lean over the bathtub to turn the faucet on and plug the drain. Steam curls up and around Johnny as he stands upright and turns towards you,

“Ya like what ya see?” he smirks.

Giggling and feeling lighter than you have in weeks, you walk over to his outstretched hand.

“Always, Johnny.”

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khwxbeeda · 10 months

Text

Sirius leaned his hip against the kitchen counter and breathed out, letting his eyes fall shut. He wrapped his arms around himself and tipped his head back, controlling his breathing till it was a perfect time period— 4 seconds in, 6 seconds hold, 8 seconds release. Repeat.

The kitchen was silent.

It was a rare thing, a silent kitchen— the Order met here for meetings, dinner time was best described as utter chaos, Molly bustled around banging the pots and pans and yelling at her children. Grimmauld Place had a perpetually noisy kitchen, except now, in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep.

The silence was… relaxing.

He breathed out and opened his eyes, slowly turning his head to take in the entirety of the dingy but clean room. The dinner table was spotless, the mahogany wood gleaming with the new coat of polish he and Harry had layered onto it a few days ago. Next to him an empty goblet stood on the counter, emblazoned with the Black Family crest and motto, glaring up at Sirius for daring to use it to drink a few sips of late-night wine. Sirius ignored its presence and picked up the bottle of Nebbiolo red that he had poured from. It wasn't wise to drink more than one glass if one couldn't sleep, and Sirius knew better than most what alcoholism did to people.

"Sirius."

He looked up, and smiled.

"Hello, Harry," he murmured, and Harry gave him a tight smile in return. The expression made something curl unpleasantly in his ribcage, and he kept the bottle back down to walk over to Harry. Close up, there were dark bags under his eyes and his skin was paler than death, and his eyes… Sirius did not want to think about how similar that look was to the one he saw in the mirror.

He wanted to fix everything. He wanted to give Harry a good home, a good life, a good family. He wanted, with all his heart, to have a chance at making everything right. He wanted to drag Harry into a hug and tell him that he was loved, that he deserved better, that he could just say the word and Sirius would take him far away from Britain and its shit politics.

"I didn't hear you come in," he said instead.

Harry shrugged and stuffed his hands into the pocket of his worn-out black hoodie, blinking slowly at the bottle of wine.

"I didn't know you drank," he said quietly, and Sirius almost smiled at how similar he sounded to James when he had been going through puberty. Harry's voice was low, a little raspy, and it suited him well. The thought of James sent a pang of grief through his heart, as usual, and he ignored it in favour of shaking his head.

"Never more that a few sips," he answered as he set it back down, silently pulling out two chairs and gesturing at Harry to take a seat. "Orion drank a lot. Those were never good moments."

His voice echoed around the kitchen, the silence of the night raising the volume so it seemed like he was speaking from all corners of the room. Harry slumped into the chair next to Sirius and looked around, and Sirius swallowed at the gleam in his green eyes. It was… he wanted to make that haunted look go away.

"You know," he murmured, and the boy's eyes snapped towards him. "People keep saying you look exactly like James. With your—"

"—mother's eyes, yeah." Harry looks away, jaw clenching and relaxing. "I know."

Sirius smiled. "It's not entirely true."

Harry looked at him, eyes suddenly sharper than a dagger, and Sirius felt his heart ache at the familiarity of the expression. He nodded at Harry's look of disbelief, smile growing wistful.

"The shape of your lips is all Lily," he explained. "James had a wide-set, smiling mouth. You and Lily, though— little rosebud mouth. James always said Lily was one of the Celtic Fair Folk because of her narrow face."

Harry smiled at him, wonder shining in his eyes, the shadows a little less dark compared to a few minutes ago. Sirius considered that a win, and kept talking.

"And your eyes.. Lily had forest green eyes, with hints of brown and golden if you were close enough to see it. Calm and serene most of the time, till she got angry. Then it felt like she could stab you with just one look."

Both of them huff out quiet little laughs, and Sirius tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling. He could barely get the next words out through the lump in his throat. "You, though— the most brilliant green eyes ever, the exact shade of the Killing Curse. You have your grandfather's eyes."

The sharp breath Harry sucked in echoed through the air like a gunshot.

Sirius twisted his head to glance at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something… Sirius felt his blood boil.

"Nobody told you about your grandparents, did they?"

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