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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months ago

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There Comes a Breaking Point

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, smut (p in v sex, handjobs, face sitting), light angst, light fluff too, humor, love confession, truth serum.

Summary/Warnings: Sam drinks a truth potion, and you and Dean have to deal with the consequences, and very painful and beautiful revelations.

Author's Note: Request from @youdontknowe! Tormented Sam so bad last time I had people advocating for his release.

Word Count: 6.1k

This is going to be a problem. You don’t have to look at Dean’s tensed body and scowl to know that this is going to be a problem.

“Run it over one more time, Sammy, and explain why the hell you thought this was a good idea.”

Sam sighs, and he’s spent the past hour looking a little bit like a child that just got caught eating sharpies to see if the different colors had different flavors.

This isn’t that.

It’s worse.

“It was thirsty,” he mutters. “And it doesn’t hurt. It’s kind of tingly on my brain, but it actually feels pretty good, dude. Like an orgasm-“

“Sam.” You mutter. “We talked about this. Don’t poke the bear.”

“But the bear was asking to be poked, and you poke the bear all the time-“

You shake your head. “That’s different-“

“Right, cause he loves you-“

You flush, right as Dean lets out a cough that could rival thunder.

“I- I’m not- Shut your fucking face, Sam, and get the hell back on topic-“

“I’m sorry, but I can’t not say it.” Sam looks back to you with a desperate plea of your name. “You know I can’t, I’m trying but it’s literally impossible-“

“Then try fucking harder-“

“Dean.” You place your hand over his—gripping the chair in the war room like he’s struggling not to throw it at the wall, and knowing him, he might be—until he looks at you.

Sam had said earlier that Dean goes gooey when he looks at you. You’d told him you didn’t know what that means, and he’d tried to make a mimicking face of it, but mostly just ended up looking like an idiot.

And you hadn’t believed him. Sam may have been right in his brutal you always know what Dean needs before he asks for it observation, but that was because you’d trained yourself to do that. To take care of him, when nobody else does, or ever has. It had become your silent purpose, because Dean may stitch you up after every hunt and make sure you eat every night, but you’re the one who takes all the harsher blows on purpose, and who does his laundry—and Sam’s, but they both seem to think a shirt is wearable right up until you get blood on it, and that simply cannot be the bar—and puts water on his nightstand after a worse day, because you know he’s going to drink and you don’t want him to get a headache.

Apparently, Sam’s noticed all of that. And you’d been alright with it—you didn’t really try to hide how you do that—right up until he added that he knows you bake those pies instead of buying them at the store, and that you hate old movies but watch them because Dean likes them, and that that shampoo and conditioner in the Dean’s showers hasn’t just been magically replacing itself like he thinks.

“How the fuck do you know that one?” You’d muttered, and Sam had just shrugged.

“Because I use my own shampoo and conditioner, duh. And it’s expensive, so if there was a secret shampoo wizard in the bunker, I wouldn’t have to order new stuff online every month.” Sam had paused for a few seconds, making an almost adorable, puppy-like face of shock at the air. “Huh. That feels good to admit. I can finally stop hiding my orders.”

You’d stared at him. “You order stuff to the bunker?”

“No, I have a secret P.O box. Separate from our group one.”

“You what-“

“I don’t want to grab another one of your dildos on accident.” He’d wrinkled his nose at the air. “That was traumatizing, by the way. But not as bad as getting Dean’s porn magazines, I- There was one whole edition that was just photos of girls that looked like you, I think he had it custom made-“

“Sam.” You’d whispered, a little worried that—if he kept going—you’d burn yourself alive. “Please shut up.”

“I can’t. I’m trying, but it just keeps coming out.”He’d pouted at you. “What the hell was in that thing? I mean, I feel great, but wow it’s strong. I think I’m gonna go call Eileen and tell her I love her-“

You’d used the full weight of your body to slam him back down into his chair. “Do not do that, Sam-“

“Why, I thought you guys loved her too-“

“Because,” you’d sighed, rubbing at your eyes as you spoke. “If you call Eileen, you’re probably going to tell her you’re proposing next month. And I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Oh. Good call.” Sam had stayed seated, but frowned at you all the same. “Is Dean headed back?”

You’d glanced down to your phone. “Yeah, he should be. Said he would, but I didn’t explain what was happening, so maybe he got distracted-“

Sam had snorted. “If you asked him to come back, he’s not getting distracted by anything.”

“What does that mean-“

“He’s obsessed with you,” Sam had rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, you’re like a sister to me, and-“

“I’m like a sister to Dean, too.” You’d muttered, your tone a lot more bitter than you’d wanted, and Sam had only scoffed.

“No. He loves you. Actually, I love you, but Dean’s in love with you.”

You’d shaken your head, and tried to work out how you could literally sink into the earth. ““Sam-“

“It’s annoying,” he’d half-whined your name, like this was somehow actually your problem to fix. “All the time he’s just looking at you, and talking about you, and moping about how you flirt with other men at bars-“

You’d frowned at him. “I don’t flirt at bars. At all.”

“I know, cause you love him, and I’ve tried to tell him that but suddenly the asshole’s all good with a life of celibacy.” Sam had let out a loud, dramatic sigh, and you’d snorted.

“Dean is not celibate.”

“He is now. Why’d you think he’s been so grumpy all the time.”

“Cause he’s Dean-“

“Nah, this is worse than usual. You just don’t notice cause he’s still all mushy and sweet with you.”

“Fucking- Sam-“

“It was a little better when he was still masturbating.” Sam had hummed. “But then I walked in on him shouting your name, and now he doesn’t. I’m kind worried it’s gonna kill him.”

You’d just stared at Sam, unable to find words that weren’t pleas to either be shot or woken up from this half-nightmare, half-daydream, and Sam had just kept fucking talking.

“And he makes this face!” Sam had shouted, and you’d considered finding a very firm book in the library to beat your own head in with.

Even now, as you and Sam explained the situation to Dean, the brain bashing was very much still on the table. Because if you looked really close, you could see something shift in Dean’s expression when he met your eyes.

But that might just be the exhaustion. It’s been a pretty average day, but a long fucking three hours.

“He can’t help it.” You mutter, nodding your head to Sam. “We just have to ride it out until Rowena picks up the phone.”

Dean’s jaw ticks, and Sam clears his throat, his voice soft and careful.

“If it helps,” he mumbles your name, giving you an apologetic look. “She’s the one who put the potion there.”

“Sam.” You hiss. “Why would that help-“

“He doesn’t get mad at you!” Sam’s whining voice was back, and you’re a little worried the potion has done something to his general brain functions as well. “And who the hell leaves something like that in the fridge-“

“Me! I leave it there, because Rowena said it needs to be refrigerated Dean knows not to drink it, and you always ask for a nutrition breakdown!”

“But I was thirsty-“

“Sammy.” Dean grumbles, running a hand over his face. “Don’t yell at her.”

“I- She yelled at me-“

“I know, Sammy. Still don’t yell at her. And,” Dean mutters your name, a slight amusement on his face. That’s a good sign. Dean doesn’t really do amused when he’s really angry. “Take a page from your own book. He can’t help it.”

You roll your eyes. “Shove up your ass, Winchester.”

“That’s not nice, sweetheart-“

“It’s nicer than the other place I’d tell you to shove it.” You mumble, and Dean stares at you for a long second, the cutest confusion you’ve ever seen written all over his face.

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Unless you’re planning to like, cut me open, I don’t really have any other holes-“

“You’ve got one other hole.”

You can see the moment it hits him, and you don’t bother to hide your giggle at the slack shock in his face.

“Son of a- Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he says your name, shaking his head like he’s trying to physically remove the idea and moving a hand to cover his crotch. “I should let you take the lead on the interrogations some time, you’re-“

"Amazing?” You hum, smiling at him in a slightly manic way you’ve long forgotten how to fight in Dean’s presence. “Perfect? A miracle and blessing on the universe-“

“Terrifying.” Dean cuts you off with a grin. “Little Dean’s gonna have a heart attack-“

“Yeah, cause you have a boner, man.” Sam groans, and you whip to see him making a face of disgust at you and Dean. “Shit, could she like, wade through cow shit and you’d still get hard?”

“Sam.” Dean grunts, and Sam just rolls his eyes.

“No, don’t Sam me, you guys were just eye-banging, right in front of me. It’s so gross-“

“Sam-“

Dean’s warnings continue to be ignored, and the brain bashing become more and more of a viable option.

“Dean, I’ve seen you get hard cause she threatened to punch you, and I mean like, fine, but you were sitting next to me in the booth, man. I couldn’t get up, or the whole diner would see. And you,” he waves a loose hand in your direction. “Are just as bad! I’ve see the drool when he takes off his shirt, and you laugh way too much at his jokes. I love you, dude, I do, but you are not half as funny as you think you are.”

Dean’s scowl doesn’t waver. “Sammy, I’m gonna knock your lights out if you keep talking.”

“Sure, whatever, just go have sex after. I can’t fucking take this anymore, you keep making heart eyes at each other while I’m eating. It’s exhausting.”

You’re going to sink into the earth. Or turn into sheer air, or run and never stop until you drop dead, and you’re reborn as a bug all the way across the world.

Dean’s walking away. He might want to hear this even less than you do, because at least for you it’s a little true. For Dean, it’s just Sam losing his mind.

It has to just be Sam losing his mind.

You’ve spent too many years telling yourself that Dean simply doesn’t love you back, and that’s okay, for it not to be Sam losing his mind-

“You should follow him.” Sam says, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“He needs space, Sam-“

“No, he needs you.”

You swallow. It’s just Sam losing his mind.

Sam says your name carefully. “I know-“

“I’m going to bed.” The words aren’t really for Sam. They’re not really for anybody. It’s mostly just an order for your legs to start moving.

You’ll work on this in the morning, or your phone will ring in the dead of night with an answer from Rowena. Until then, you’ll wallow. Sit in the fact that things are going to be weird now, and they’ll get better, but God, the middle part is going to suck.

It’s not like you’ve never tried to do something about your feelings. There have been points where you’d had too much to drink, or the hunt had been really good, or Dean had been touching you a lot, all day, for almost no reason. And you’d smiled at him extra, and fluttered your lashes, and looked nowhere but his grin and handsome features, but he’s never done anything. You’ve even had cases where you’ve had to pretend to be a couple, and Dean has looked at you with dark eyes and a teasing smirk, but then things would get weird, and you’d be struck with the knowledge once more that it was nothing.

The touches were nothing, and the days he’d only ever look at you were nothing, and no matter how bad you wanted it to be something, it wasn’t.

You can’t sleep. You can’t manage to banish the image of Dean laying in his bed, with his hand stroking his cock as he shouts your name, and it’s making the sheets stick to your skin and you thighs squeeze together, but it’s just an image in your head.

Hours pass, and the image gets sharper and you can only grind into the sheets and beg to nothing for the night to move quickly, but it doesn’t. If anything you’re more awake, and now you’ve shifted to being on the table in the war room, and instead of Dean storming out when Sam tells you that you love each other, he agrees and grabs your face between big, rough hands. Kissing you until your knees are weak and you’re clinging to his shirt, before bending you over the table and fucking you stupid.

But it’s just a fantasy. Based in nothing at all.

No matter what Sam says, it’s nothing.

Even though Sam does know Dean better than anyone. And he’s only saying what he thinks is the truth, which is—allegedly and unlikely—that Dean masturbates and shouts your name, and the magazine thing, and that you eye fuck each other, and you know you eye fuck Dean, but never once has Dean ever looked at you different from the first day he met you-

Sam cuts through your thoughts, shouting of your name from down the hall, and you bolt out of bed without thought.

“I need help- Shit-“

It’s coming from Dean’s room, and if Sam went to try and smooth things out Dean might be strangling him, and he wouldn’t actually hurt Sam but you’re still so worried the air feels wired-

You skid into Dean’s room with wide eyes, Dean jolts up from his bed—very much alone—and before either of you can speak, the door slams closed.

“Son of a-“ Dean pushes up off the mattress, his eyes narrowed at the door. “Sammy? What the hell do you think you’re doing-“

“A plan.” Sam’s voice is muffled from behind the door, and when you try to shake the handle, it doesn’t budge.

“Dean.” You mutter, look back over your shoulder. “It’s locked. Why the fuck does it lock from the outside-“

“Old Mark of Cain precaution,” he grunts, moving to your side with short steps. “Sam, open the goddamn door now.”

There’s a second of silence, then Sam’s firm. “No.”

“Sam-“

“No! I’m not doing this for another three years!” Sam’s voice is almost desperate, and you and Dean both freeze. “You know you love each other now! Work it out! And I’m sorry I spilled your secrets, that wasn’t cool, but c’mon guys, this was getting insane.”

“Sam.” You wrap your arms around your body, and he better feel the venom in your voice. “You said you needed help. This is not help. You lied, so-“

“Potion wore off. Guess I can lie again.” There’s a pause. “But I wasn’t lying when I said you guys need to get this together. Remember the vamp hunt last month?”

You frown at the door. “Yeah?”

“One of the vamps was shocked you weren’t together!” Sam groans, sounding almost pained by the memory. “You guys were out double checking the nest location after we interrogated her, and she made a joke about how my mom and dad were probably fucking in the car or something, and I told her that you guys weren’t together, and she said, and I quote, really.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice is growl. It’s not helping the situation. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Cool. Do it after you guys are done.”

“Done?” You glance over at Dean, and he’s refusing to meet your gaze. Just glowering at the door. “Sam, what do we have to be done with.”

“Working it out.”

You sigh. “That’s not-“

“Fine. Fucking. You’re not coming out until you fuck.”

Your mouth falls open, and Dean looks like—if he really tried—he could break down the door and strangle Sam with his bare hands.

“I swear to Mother Mary and Christ, Sam, you’re fuckin’ dead-“

“Sure. After you fuck.”

Dean slams a fist on the door, and it almost drowns out the sound of Sam’s footsteps.

Walking away.

Leaving you locked with Dean.

You swallow on the air, and Dean still won’t look at you. Won’t speak to you, or do anything but glare at the door as if he can free himself with his mind. You must have done something wrong to make Sam hate you, because this is torture. Dean obviously doesn’t want to be in here with you, let alone fuck you or love you. Even when you move to sit on the bed he remains tall and rigid and frozen, and you can see the muscles of his back flexing, and that’s really not important to think about right now-

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and when Dean responds, his words sound pushed through his teeth.

“No. You’re- This isn’t your problem. He’ll come back later, and we can lie to him about doing it, and then I’ll fucking kill him.”

The last words are roared for Sam to hear wherever he’s retreated off to, and you let out a long, slow sigh.

“I don’t think shouting is going to convince him to come back and free you.”

He finally looks at you. A quick glance over his shoulder with a drawn brow, still igniting a fire over your skin. Always igniting a fire over your skin.

“I don’t give a shit if he frees me.” He grunts. “He shouldn’t be doing this to you. Doesn’t matter what he thinks he knows.”

You blink at that, and it’s like you’re missing something. Dean’s words make sense, but there’s something so slightly off about them, and you can’t place it.

“Truth potion.” You shrug, watching Dean carefully. “Not his fault.”

Dean scoffs. “This is his fault, sweetheart. And that thing wasn’t a truth potion, it was a big-mouthed potion.”

“I think that’s just a mean way of saying truth potion.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve earned the right to be mean. My brother’s a fucking traitor-“

“Dean.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Right.” You mumble. “Sorry.”

He glances back to you with a firm expression that-

Softens. It softens. There’s not eye fucking, but you can see it happen. His jaw unclenches, and his nostrils flare with a long exhale, and his eyes turn gooey.

The lack of sleep might be catching up to you.

Or Sam is right.

You really hope Sam is right.

“Don’t be.” Dean mutters, crossing the room and dropping at your side. “Not your fault Sammy’s a little shit who only see what he wants.”

“What he wants?”

Dean nods, and that all you get.

You just need a little more.

“Sam told me you haven’t been sleeping with other people.” You whisper. “Was that just- Sam being a shit?”

Dean sighs, shooting you an unreadable look. “No. I haven’t been.”

You swallow. “Why?”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle, and you can taste the air. Feel the heat from his body, right next to yours, and smell him all over the room. Whiskey and gunpowder and something salty that’s just Dean.

And he chuckles—his voice impossibly low—and looks at you the same as he always has.

And you see it again. What Sam was talking about

The hunger, in his hooded gaze, that’s lighting a fire in your gut.

All it takes to turn it to a wildfire is his voice, deep and rough as he holds your gaze, God, you might be the one losing their mind, but if it’s for this, you’re happy to let it go.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, scanning carefully over your already open, slack features. “I’m betting Sam told you why, too.”

For a second, you’re only staring at each other as Dean’s words hang in the air.

And Sam had been telling the truth. You can see it all over Dean’s face, and you’re sure he can see it on yours—and if he can’t, he can hear it, pounding in your heartbeat—and something in you snaps.

You must be the one who moves first. Just a fraction of a second faster than Dean, because you end up straddling him as he holds you by the waist, and this is what you’ve waited for.

Years of sleepless nights and watching Dean move without grabbing him by the shirt and smashing your lips to his with a scream of I love you. So much time spent daydreaming and getting lost in your own head to thoughts of this moment, and you’re here, and there’s nothing else in the world.

It’s only Dean. His hands pulling and kneading at the skin of your hips and ass, and his mouth desperate and sloppy against yours as you both try to devour the other first. All teeth and spit and need, you need Dean and he needs you, and you can feel his need pressing right into your inner thigh, and exploding is back on the table but it might be into fireworks-

You’re separating only for breath. Just enough for Dean to pull your shirt over your head and drop his head to your neck as you unbutton his flannel—why was he sleeping in flannel, that’s so fucking weird, he’s perfect—and leaning back once more to let you drag his undershirt off and toss it to the side. There’s too much time lost to wait. You push your hand between your bodies—pressed right against each other, your hips already rolling down as your own desperation grows—and it’s only right as your fingers lands on the rim of Dean’s sweatpants that he picks up on what’s happening.

“Wait-“ He grunts your name, pulling away as he grabs your hand, but keeping his hold on your body steady. “You don’t need to-“

“But I want to.” You whisper, giving him your best, softest doe-eyes. “Please.”

“Son of a- Sweetheart, you really don’t-“

“Please.” You grind down onto him, and he grunts in your ear. “I promise I want to Dean, I- I mean only if you want to-“

Dean’s hand wraps around the back of your hand so carefully as he slams his lips up to yours, and your words die in a long, happy moan as he ruts up into your thighs.

“I love you,” he mutters, and you giggle against his lips.

“I love you, too. Is that a yes-“

He chuckles. “You can have a little, sweetheart.” He starts to press short kisses over your collarbone before nipping at your shoulder, his words rolling through your body until you’re squirming against him. “But then I wanna taste you, and come inside of you, alright. I-“ He pauses, glancing up with a small frown. “If you’re good with that. I know I’m clean, and if you are too, and wanna do that, I’m all in, so-“

It’s your turn to shut him up. He groans down your throat as you pull his lower lip between your teeth, squeezing right over his bulge until he’s making more of those sounds, and they might be all you need to survive for a million years.

And the hiss and moan he lets out when you lean back and pull his sweats and boxers down, taking his hard cock in your hand and giving it a long slow stroke, might send you right to heaven.

You don’t think you’ll want it. Nowhere could be better than here. Pumping Dean in your hands carefully, feeling the ache between your legs grow as you start to imagine him—thick and big and throbbing—seated between your thighs. Watching him drop his brow to your chest with a low groan, quickly making himself busy by kissing and sucking over your breasts.

“Dean.” Your hand shoots into his hair, and he moans again. Right against your nipple, as his hips jerk up into your hand, and you squeeze right at the base of his dick. “That’s- Oh, that’s good-“

He only groans, a hand gripping so hard on your waist it’s going to leave a bruise.

You really hope it does.

“Baby,” Dean mutters, and that alone almost sends you right up to the edge. “Gotta slow down, getting- son of a bitch-“

It’s impossible not to speed it up. To not began to pick up your pace until Dean’s biting your shoulder, making more of those sounds-

“Alright. That’s enough.“ Dean pulls you off with a grunt, eyes blown out, and hair messy from your fingers, and his voice is gruff and low and you want to keep touching him-

“Dean.” Your voice is almost a whine as he fully removes his bottoms, and you crawl over to prop your chin on his shoulder. “We can have sex later-“

That gets a loud, barking laugh. “There’s no damn way we’re having sex later, sweetheart. I told you, I’m gonna taste you, then I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

Suddenly, the plan sounds good again. You nod frantically as Dean grins at you and presses a quick, affectionate kiss to your brow, but when you start to lie back for the tasting part, Dean stops you.

“Not like that, baby girl.” He mutters, pulling you back into a longer, slower kiss, and you give him a slightly dazed blink as when he pulls away.

“But you said-“

“I know. Gimme a sec.” He crawls back on the mattress, settling his head between the pillows. “C’mere.”

You blink at him. “Dean, I don’t-“

Your words cut off with a squeak as he grabs your leg, dragging you forwards and positioning until you’re sitting right on his chest.

When all you do is stare at him, combing your fingers thoughtlessly through his hair as you wait for him to explain, Dean pauses.

“You ever done this?”

“I don’t know what this is-“

“Face-sitting.”

Your mouth falls open, and he chuckles.

“Guess not. You’re gonna love it, baby, I promise. C’mon.”

His hands find your ass, and your senses finally rush back into your body.

“Dean, wait-“

He stops before the word is even fully out of your mouth, a small frown on his pretty face. “What’s wrong, do you not wanna-“

“No, I do-“

“Cause if you don’t, I’ll survive sweetheart, you just gotta tell me-“

“Dean!” You squeak, grabbing his face between your hands. “I want to, I do, I promise, but I- I only just got you, I don’t want to kill you night one.”

Dean stares at you for a second, and his face breaks out in a wide, bright grin. “Night one? You already planning more nights?”

“I- yes, and I’d like you be alive for them.”

He shrugs. “Well if that’s your problem, I can promise I’ll make it. Sit on my fucking face, sweetheart. Now.”

His voice is deep and firm with the command, and it’s almost enough to make you forget about the crushing him fears.

You only just manage to push through.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dean-“

“You won’t-“

“But-“

Dean says your name carefully, squeezing his hands on your ass. “I can tell you right now, I’m going to enjoy this. I’ve been waiting for it for years.”

“Oh.” You whisper. “Okay.”

He nods. “I’m more than game if you are. But if you’re not-“

“I am.”

Your answer is too quick, and Dean doesn’t miss it. “Alright then. Hold on.”

A quick wink is all your get before he’s pulling you forward, right onto his face, and-

“Fuck.”

Dean chuckles, licking another long, teasing stripe up your pussy, and your hand shoots out to grab his headboard. Any doubt from your head is gone is second, replaced only by good. This feels so good, with Dean’s hands squeezing and lightly slapping on your ass with every moan, and his grunts as you grip at his hair vibrating right into you cunt, and his mouth-

His mouth needs to come with a warning. Some kind of biohazard, because all he’d need to do now is ask you to move a mountain, and you would.

Nobody should be this good at eating pussy. It shouldn’t be legal. But Dean does it like it’s nothing, keeping you slammed firm over his face and licking and tongue fucking you into a high, dizzy oblivion, his nose rubbing right over your clit and stubble burning your thighs, and whenever you scream his name he just goes faster, his mouth moving to your clit to suck and bite as you grind down on his chin, and you’ve never been this close this fast. Right on the edge as Dean swirling his tongue around your clit before plunging it back into your cunt, keeping you right on the edge of bliss without falling over.

“Dean-“ You gasp, your voice barely a breath. “Dean, please, wanna cum-“

He squeezes your ass again, pulling your clit between his lips and flicking his tongue in almost a frenzy, and that’s it.

You scream as your orgasm hits, your thighs clamping around Dean’s head as you struggle to stay upright, and it’s only when you’re shaking and whimpering above him that Dean slows his ministrations.

Warm hands squeeze your hips and roll you off Dean’s face, holding you carefully until you’re flat on your back, and Dean’s above you with an open, adoring face.

“Good?”

You nod weakly, spreading your legs without thought at his deep voice.

Dean laughs. “Awesome. Wait, I gotta-“

Two broad fingers run between the lips of your pussy, and you let out a shaky moan as Dean’s words hang gathers your release on his fingers.

“You’re better than I imagined, baby girl.” He mutters. “So wet. Responsive.” Just to prove his point, Dean pinches and rolls your clit, and your back arches off the bed as you whine. “I know, sweetheart, just- here.”

You blink up at him as those two fingers move to rest right to your lips, and Dean raises his brows.

“Open for me.” He presses the fingers down on your lower lip, and a grin splits his face as you obey. “Good girl. Just want you to taste how delicious you are, sweetheart, make sure you know.”

Your tongue swirling over your fingers as you suck off your arousal, and that alone is enough to make you ready for him all over again, but the way Dean watches you drags you right up to the edge.

Like you’re holy. And perfect. And there’s really never been another place for him but right here, at your side.

Dean pulls out his fingers with a pop, his voice hoarse as he holds your gaze. “More?”

You nod without a thought. “More.”

Dean give you a small, almost nervous grin, and moves himself until he’s hovering over you, only a breath away, and his cock is sliding between your pussy lips, hitching right at your entrance.

“You-“

“Yes.” Your answer is quick and breathy, and Dean grins down at you without any form of restraint on his face.

“I love you, you know.”

“I’ve got it.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I love you too.”

“Good. Just making sure.”

“Dean-“

He angles his lips over yours for a long, slow kiss. Deep and heavy and almost gentle, going until you’re moaning below him.

Then he slams his cock into you, and you're gone.

This is where Dean belongs. He bottoms out in one stroke, and you barely need time to adjust before you’re clawing at his back in a silent plea to fucking move, and when he does it’s perfect. He’s hitting so deep inside of you, and filling you up better than anything else ever could, and every moan and breathless plea of his name only makes Dean go faster. Harder. Until he’s properly fucking you, the bed creaking as he splits you open and mutters low filth in your ear, but you’re high to really hear it.

And everything that breaks through just manages to light you on fire more.

“Taking me so good.” He grunts in your ear, and you roll your hips up, trying to match his every thrust. “God, you feel like fuckin’ paradise, baby girl. All tight and wet, I never- Shit-“

Dean cuts himself off with a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and you start to writhe below him.

“Dean- I’m close again-“

“I know.” He mutters, pressing a slightly softer kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Want you to come with me, sweetheart. Can you-“

You squeeze around him, and Dean groans right down your throat.

“Son of a- Alright-“ His thumb snakes between your bodies, rubbing quick, furious circles around your clit. “Let’s go, baby, c’mon-“

“Dean, please.”

He moans as you start to squirm, his movements growing desperate and uneven. “I know, I’ve got you, you’re being so good-“

You start to arch off the bed again, and Dean holds you firm against him, all as his fingers keep moving.

“Good girl, so fucking tight, just need you to come for me-“

It’s someone bigger than the last one. Longer and crashing over you in a beautiful, starlit wave that drowns out everything but the sight of Dean’s face as he cums, the sound of him groaning your name, and the feeling of him between your legs. Heavy and big, his release spilling into your pussy as he gives a few last, lazy strokes.

Dean rolls off you with a gentle kiss to your brow, and the bed is too big and cold until he returns.

A warm cloth is pressed along your inner thighs as he cleans you up, and a gentle kiss lands on your abdomen right before he leaves once more.

There’s a thud as he discards the cloth, and then he’s back. Scooting in bed beside you and pulling you right up to his chest, holding you so carefully it would be impossible to know that, only minutes ago, he’d been fucking you so hard you can still feel him.

“Sam’s never gonna let us live this down.” Dean mutters, and you let out a soft laugh.

“No. I think we deserve that, though. If we’ve been even half as bad as he said.”

Dean scoffs. “I’m a saint, sweetheart, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life-“

“Sam told me about how you have a porn magazine of women who look like me.”

“I- Yeah.” He sighs, and you smile into his chest. “But he told me that you’ve stealing all my shirts to wear them while you fuck yourself with a dildo.”

“Jesus.” You flush, but still squeeze your arms around Dean’s body a little tighter. “We really are that bad, huh.”

“Yeah, but if it helps, I think that dildo thing is hot-“

“Of course your do.”

Dean laughs, his thumb tracing circles on your arm. “How should we get him back for this?”

“I think,” You hum, propping your chin up on his chest. “That you should let this one go.”

“But-“

“Dean Winchester.” You snap, narrowing your eyes and pushing up on your palms. “Don’t lie to me and say that you were planning on doing this yourself. Sam got you laid, and a girlfriend who loves you.”

Dean raises his brows. “Girlfriend?”

You swallow, but don’t waver. You’ve come this far. “Yes.”

He grins, grabbing one of your hands to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Awesome. About Sam-“

“No.”

“I’m thinking we drink all his stupid smoothies-“

“Dean.” You lower yourself down, until your nose to nose with Dean’s pretty, stupid grin. “Go buy your brother a big salad and stupid smoothie as a thank you, then get your ass back in bed.”

Dean closes the final distance with a long, easy kiss, not bothering to pull away when he speaks.

“Yes ma’am.”

End Note: Rare day where it's beautiful to be Sam Winchester. And those two perverts are meant for each other. Good for them.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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mischief-and-the-big-bad-wolf · 25 days ago

Text

Paige was excited. She finally had a chance to be alone with Derek, without the losers that usually hung around him, and she could finally make a move. She had liked Derek ever since they had met in the dorms on move in day when his annoying friend Stiles had run her over and Derek had so graciously helped her up. She knew Derek liked her too but he was shy, painfully shy. Whenever he came to visit Stiles on campus, they were holed up in his room together, only coming out for food.

But now, tonight, Paige had been stranded outside the theatre room after band practice, her car making wierd, croaking noises before giving out on her. And Derek had just happened to drive by.

"Thank you so much, Derek. You're a lifesaver," Paige preened as he walked her over to the passenger side.

"No problem, god knows how many times I have had to pick up Stiles because he refuses to stop driving that truck of his," Derek joked, a fond smile on his face. He opened the door and stopped Paige before she could sit, saying, "Let me just get this stuff out of the way."

Paige peered in and saw Derek throwing a pillow and some blankets to the backseat. She waited until they were both in the car and then asked, "Do you sleep in your car often?"

"Huh? Oh, the blankets?" Derek said, "No, no, they're Stiles'. He gets really sleepy during car rides so I wanted to make sure he was as comfortable as possible."

"Oh, you're a nice friend," Paige giggled, leaning towards Derek.

Derek subtly leaned away and with a confused smile, replied, "Thank you."

"Anyways, um, did you see the new sci-fi movie that came out?" Paige asked. "Would you like to go with me? To watch it?" Paige cringed as she fumbled with her words.

"Stiles and I already have tickets for the weekend," Derek said, tone apologetic. "But you could tag along, if you want."

"Hmm, maybe," Paige replied, annoyed. Why did Stiles have to butt into everything? "Um, I saw on your instagram the cookies that you had baked."

"Oh no, the ones that I burnt?" Derek chuckled.

"Yeah," Paige giggled, "I could teach you how to make some, my grandma taught me how to make the best chocolate chip cookies."

"That sounds fun, Stiles loves baking," Derek said. He giggled, adding, "His reaction when I showed up at his door with burnt cookies was hilarious. He ate every single one though, even when I protested."

"How about next Friday?" Paige asked, giddy about finally getting a date with him.

"Uh, I don't think Friday works for Stiles, but he'll text you to figure out another day," Derek answered.

"Oh, um, yeah, sure," Paige mumbled. Did he think she had invited the both of them? He probably did, Paige thought, he was just so shy and adorable that he didn't realize Paige was asking him out. In a brighter tone, she then asked, "Would you like me to give you my number? So you can pass it along?"

"Doesn't Stiles already have your number?" Derek questioned, a confused frown on his face.

"Right, he does, guess I forgot," Paige said, grumbling a little.

When they parked in front of the dorm, Derek reached back and pulled out a gift bag from the back seat.

Paige perked up, looking hopefully at Derek, "Is that a gift?"

"Yeah," Derek said, smiling fondly at the bag.

"Who is it for?" Paige asked, drumming her fingers on her thigh in excitement. Finally, she knew Derek liked her.

"Stiles," Derek replied, looking at her weirdly. Paige's face fell as he continued, "Today was the day I first met him."

"Oh, that's nice. I didn't know you guys were such good friends."

"He has been my everything since he was 16," Derek said, chest puffing out.

They walked inside the building silently, Paige's mind running with doubt. Had she misread everything?

She startled when Stiles' dorm room banged open and he came running out, jumping into Derek's arms. Derek caught him with a huff as Stiles' legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his shoulder.

Derek was holding him up with one hand, the other still holding the gift bag. Paige drooled over his bulging bicep but snapped out of it when Stiles said, "Missed you, Sourwolf." Paige frowned, they had such wierd nicknames for each other.

"I missed you too, Mischief," Derek replied, then leaned closer and pressed his lips against Stiles' in a searing kiss.

Paiged gaped, stumbling back a bit. No way, no way.

Derek pulled back after a few minutes and set Stiles on his feet. "I have something for you, baby," he said, a bashful grin on his face.

"Gimme, gimme," Stiles said, bouncing on his feet a little as Derek handed him the bag. He ripped out the stuffing from the bag, hands trembling as he pulled out a little wolf plushie. "Der," he murmured, eyes filling with tears.

"Do you like it, my love?" Derek asked, thumbing the tears off Stiles' face.

"Mhm, Der, bubba," Stiles whimpered, burrowing himself into Derek's chest.

Derek grinned, "There's more, baby." He pulled away a little and unhooked the necklace wrapped around the wolf. He spun Stiles' around and gently placed it around his neck. He leaned down to whisper into Stiles' ear, "The charm has mountain ash inside."

Stiles turned around and with a garbled sob, threw himself at Derek again. Derek chuckled fondly, scooping him up into his arms. "You are so cute, Mischief."

"Love you, I love you, bubba," Stiles cried, voice muffled as his face was smushed into Derek's neck.

"I love you too, so much, baby," Derek cooed. Then, he looked at Paige and said, "Better take him to his room and take care of him, see you later."

Paige stood in the hallway for a while, the sounds of Derek growling and moaning praises and Stiles whining and whimpering pinning her to the spot.

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek and stiles #derek x stiles #sterek fanfic #sterek imagine #sterek drabble #ficlet #outsider pov #paige

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fuji-sen · 9 months ago

Text

the 'evil imposter' just wants to be a baker!

hello little sprouts! Just recently remembered my love(?) or interest with the sagau concepts!

ɞ﹒₊˚ This is partially inspired by the manhwa "A Divorced Evil Lady Bakes Cakes!" ɞ﹒₊˚ Imposter AU's, there is a bit angst in the first three nations but you'll be fineeeee, hopefully. ɞ﹒₊˚ Female!Reader x Selective!Various

divider used is made by @saradika-graphics

[NAME'S] RECIPE AND INGREDIENTS BOOK!

nobody's allowed to touch >:0, especially you damn acolytes, stop trying to kill me! If found please return to [Name] [Lastname], definitely not the creator nor the imposter!

Prologue; The Foodie turned Imposter?!

When a foodie from the real world gets sucked into one of their comfort games, popular hoyoverse game's middle child Genshin Impact, it's not all fun and playtime as one would have expected. Finding out you share a face with the most divine God and Mother of the world, the creator, you are forced to fight for the right to live, so that you can eat and cook for another day!

Part 1: Sunsettia Part 2: Sweet Flowers Part 3: Mint Tea Part 4: hilichurl style stew > 4.5 special: adventures of a pyro slime Part 5: Burning Pinecones Part 6: Ginisang Ampalaya Part 7: Dawn Winery's Grapevine + Fruity Skewers Part 8: Buttery Mamon Part 9: Benny's Adventure Team + Wolfhooks POLL: Pyro Slime Name (Closed) LINK Part 10: A stew called denial Part 11: Conspiring over a meal Part 12: Poisonous Devotion

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—

Volume 1; TBA

Chapter 1: The start of [Name]'s Recipes!

more coming soon. . .

ɞ﹒₊˚ Taglist! If you want to be added to the taglist, you can comment here or in the LATEST chapter! This is so that its easier for me to compare which comment is old or new, or those who have or haven't been added yet. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Also, please don't ask to be add in the taglist through my personal messages if possible. If it looks like im ignoring you guys in the comments about being added, im really not (╥ᆺ╥；), it's just I hold off on adding you or replying on your comments until I'm nearly done with the new chapters. I started avoiding chatting or entertaining messages especially from those that don't follow me, because I don't wanna get hacked or smth like that..

taglist:

@fantasyhopperhea @rhoswen-drake @cchiiwinkle @aman3kkun @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @bunniotomia @esthelily

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If you are not tagged successfully that means tumblr thinks you are a bot (because you don't have posts, or much interaction), you have been shadowbanned, or your visibility is set to prevent you from being tagged.

check here for more info.

I recommend checking your visibility or post and reblog a couple of times to fix the issue, if you don't know if you're shadowbanned check if you have the message function, if not you probably are. and also to follow me incase the tags don't work.

#fuji-sen works #fuji sen everything #sagau #genshin impact #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #reader insert #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact x you #fuji-sen navigation #fuji-sen foodie!Reader

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amirasainz · 8 months ago

Note

What about amira was watching a show and it had steamy scenes and Carlos walk in as had a fit, quickly turning it off saying your just a baby, how dare someone make u watch this

Hi my loves. Enjoy reading and send some requests.

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

P.S.: Shoutout to the person complaining anonymously about how I tag my stories in my requests 😘😘

Just a Baby

Carlos was home for a rare break between races, enjoying some time with his family in Madrid. His sister, Amira, had returned home from university for a few days, and they were both relaxing in the living room. Carlos was in the kitchen, grabbing a snack when he heard the unmistakable sound of a dramatic TV show playing in the background. Amira was deeply immersed in the latest binge-worthy series, curled up on the couch.

The show, however, had taken a rather unexpected turn. A spicy scene appeared on the screen, one that was definitely more "mature" in nature. Just as Amira’s eyes widened, both from surprise and perhaps slight embarrassment, Carlos walked into the room, munching on an apple.

“Amira! What are you watching?!” he exclaimed, nearly choking on his bite.

Amira fumbled with the remote, trying to skip ahead or find the mute button, her face flushing a bit. “It’s just a show, Carlitos. Relax! It’s nothing,” she said, desperately trying to act nonchalant as she struggled to fast forward through the scene.

Carlos marched over and snatched the remote out of her hand. "Nada?! Amira, I saw what was on the screen. You shouldn't be watching things like this! You’re still just a baby!"

Amira rolled her eyes, already anticipating what was about to come. “Carlos, I’m 21. I’m not a baby anymore,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

Carlos shook his head, pacing in front of the TV like a concerned father. "21? Oh, please. You still have a teddy bear in your room!" he pointed out, hoping to strengthen his case. "This... this stuff is for adults."

“News flash, genius,” Amira shot back, “I am an adult.”

Carlos’ eyes widened dramatically, as though she’d said something preposterous. “You? An adult?” He let out a chuckle. "Amira, come on. Last week you were asking me to help you change the light bulb in your room because you were scared you’d break it. That doesn’t scream ‘adult’ to me!”

Amira glared at him. “That was because it was really high up and I didn’t have a step stool!” she defended herself, her cheeks turning even pinker. “Besides, what’s the big deal? You’re acting like I haven’t seen—”

“Don’t. Even. Say it,” Carlos interrupted, waving his hands in the air like he was trying to ward off evil spirits. “I don’t want to hear that you’ve seen anything like that. It’s disgusting. Unbelievable. You're practically a baby. You should be watching cartoons or... or... I don't know, baking shows!”

Amira couldn’t help but laugh now, the absurdity of the situation catching up to her. “Baking shows? Are you serious, Carlitos?”

“Or documentaries!” Carlos added, as if he’d had a sudden epiphany. “Something educational, you know. Not… this.”

Amira threw her hands up. “Fine. Next time, I’ll be sure to watch ‘The History of Bread’ just to satisfy you.”

Carlos squinted at her, pointing the remote at the TV and clicking the power button. “You know what, I think I need to start reviewing your shows before you watch them. Like, as a precaution,” he said, sounding very serious.

Amira was now completely exasperated. "What, are you gonna start putting parental controls on the TV?"

"Don't tempt me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The following weekend, Carlos was back in the paddock for the next Grand Prix, catching up with his fellow drivers. During a quiet moment in the hospitality area, he found himself relaying the entire incident to his teammate and good friend, Lando.

“So I walk in, and she’s watching this... this show,” Carlos explained animatedly, “and there’s this completely inappropriate scene playing. I mean, come on, Amira’s too young for that stuff.”

Lando listened with a grin spreading across his face, clearly enjoying Carlos’ overprotective older brother antics. “Wait,” he interrupted, holding up a hand to stop Carlos mid-rant. “Isn’t Amira 21 now?”

Carlos nodded vehemently. “Sí, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s still practically a child, Lando.”

“Practically?” Lando’s grin grew wider. “Mate, she’s an adult. You know that, right?”

Carlos folded his arms and huffed. “She’s not mature enough to be watching that kind of content. I need to protect her.”

Lando chuckled mischievously, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “So… you think she’d do that with me?” he said casually, raising his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk.

Carlos’ reaction was instantaneous. “¿Qué? What did you just say?” His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched.

Lando, who knew exactly what he was doing, leaned back in his chair and stretched nonchalantly. “I mean, if she’s watching stuff like that, maybe she’s… you know… open to trying things. I could—”

Before Lando could finish, Carlos had already lunged across the table, his hands outstretched toward Lando’s neck. “¡Eres un idiota!” Carlos shouted as Lando sprang to his feet, barely avoiding Carlos' grip.

Lando’s laugh echoed down the paddock as he sprinted away, Carlos hot on his heels. “It was just a joke, mate!” Lando called back over his shoulder, dodging past a stack of tires.

“I’m going to kill you, Norris!” Carlos yelled, weaving through a group of engineers who quickly parted, sensing the chaos approaching.

Drivers and team members looked on in bewilderment as the scene unfolded. Lando dashed past Max, who raised an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?” Max asked dryly.

“Nothing!” Lando managed to get out between breaths. “Just complimented Carlos’ sister!”

Max’s face broke into a rare grin. “Good luck with that,” he said, stepping aside to let Carlos barrel past.

The chase continued all the way to the garage area, where Lando finally ducked behind a stack of equipment cases, hoping Carlos would lose sight of him. But Carlos was relentless, storming up and down the aisle.

“Come out and face me, coward!” Carlos called, his voice filled with mock fury. “Or are you afraid of what I’m going to do to you?”

Lando peeked out from behind a tire rack, his face still lit up with that boyish grin. “Okay, okay, I surrender! You win!” he said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Amira’s off-limits, I swear!”

Carlos, still catching his breath, pointed a finger at Lando. “If you so much as look at her, I will personally make sure you have to drive the car with three wheels, understood?”

Lando nodded, unable to keep a straight face. “Got it, boss,” he said, giving Carlos a mock salute. “You’re such a protective big brother, though. It’s actually kind of cute.”

Carlos groaned, rubbing a hand across his face. “Cute? I’ll show you cute,” he muttered, giving Lando one last glare before finally walking off.

As Carlos walked away, Lando whispered under his breath, “Bet Amira would say I’m cute, though…”

Carlos spun around one last time, but Lando had already disappeared, leaving Carlos shaking his head and muttering something about British troublemakers.

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leighsartworks216 · 2 months ago

Text

Cookies And Kisses

Zayne x gn!Reader

I am YEARNINGGG for a Zayne kiss so badddd (and also cookies) I also wrote this like minutes after my friend sent me the trailer for the new banner cuz ough Zayne why you gotta kiss like that and NOT BE REAL

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, silly, kissing, baking, established relationship

Word Count: 1,229

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADs Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

It was only a matter of time before the sweet fragrance of baking cookies beckoned Zayne to the kitchen. Even though he was in his office, working away on his reports and research, it's the most surefire way of getting him to take a break. You've only just put in the second batch when he wanders in with that round-eyed interest, honing in on the fresh tray of sweets.

"You're baking today?" he asks. You hear the excitement in his voice, even if he's trying to act natural.

You slip off the oven mitt with a smile. The counter is a bit of a mess - flour, baking soda, vanilla and almond extract, sugar both powdered and crystalized. You tried to keep it contained, for what it's worth. Cooling racks are spread out on the kitchen island, empty for now. A full one sits beside the oven. Twelve golden sugar cookies, with coarse rainbow sprinkles pressed into their tops. You are the only thing between him and the cookies.

"They're still hot," you warn, walking over to meet him so you can hold him back for as long as it takes to let them cool for just a couple minutes. You wrap your arms around his neck. His hands rest comfortably on your waist, slipping around to your back to hold you close. Eyes focus down on you, momentarily distracted by the one thing he loves more than his sweets. "I thought it would be fun. I was going to bring some to Yvonne and Grayson."

He glances back at the cookies. "How many are you making?"

"The recipe makes about 50 cookies. I don't think either of us need that many to ourselves."

He hums noncommittally and asks, "How many are you giving them?"

"Eight each. Will 30-something cookies be enough to satisfy you?"

"With your baking, no amount could satisfy me."

You laugh softly. Your fingers begin caressing the back of his neck and playing with the short ends of his dark hair. His eyes soften behind his glasses, warm with affection as he soaks in your touch. "With your sweet tooth, no amount of anyone's baking could satisfy you."

His ears grow warm, but he just smiles. His long fingers trace light patterns against your spine and lower back. He glances at the cookies once more. You try not to laugh at how obviously he's restraining himself. "Can I have one?"

"Just one?"

"Mm, or two, or three?"

You peck his lips with a snicker and pull away. His hands slide away, falling down back to his sides. You miss them immediately. Still, you grab a napkin and carefully settle two cookies on it. The third you take for yourself, taking a bite as you turn to rest your back against the counter, holding out the napkin for him. He stands close, comfortably within arms reach, as he eagerly accepts the cookies and takes a bite of one.

Still warm, the sugar cookie crumbles in the best way possible. The subtle vanilla, the sweet almond, the added crunch of sugar crystals. He hums in content. You reach up to wipe away the crumbs at the corner of his mouth, and he looks at you with a smile.

"They're delicious," he praises after he swallows his first bite. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. "Thank you."

You catch his lips again before he can fully pull away. A quiet sigh escapes him as he reciprocates, fanning across your cheek from his nose. He tilts his head. Sets his partial cookie back in the napkin to hold your cheek as he licks the seam of your mouth, tasting the cookie's lingering sweetness on your lips, on your tongue.

Zayne kisses like he'll never kiss you again. It wasn't always like this. When you first started dating, kisses were hesitant. Light pecks, chaste and quick. Even your first make out, there was always something restrained in the way he kissed. He allowed you to lead, to take what you wanted from him. Now that you've grown as a couple, discovered each other's quirks and habits, moved in together, begun intertwining your souls, his kisses aren't the quiet, reserved pecks they used to be. He's always aching to kiss you deeper. Tilting his head from one side to the other as his hands hold you in place, pull you closer. His breaths grow heavy with excitement, soft sounds escaping the back of his throat. He devours you. Kisses you as though it's the last kiss you'll ever share and he needs to make the most of it. Kisses you like a soldier off to war, saying goodbye to his partner before he's shipped off. Kisses you like you're sweeter than pure sugar.

The oven beeps. You pull away with a sigh, sad to see the moment end. He smiles reassuringly as he kisses your cheek, silently promising to continue this later, before he steps away to lean back against the island. Those lithe fingers slipping from your cheek to pick up the cookie again, bringing it to his kiss-swollen lips and-

The oven beeps once more and you push away from the counter to stop the timer. You slip on the oven mitt, open up the inferno to let its dry heat caress your already-warm cheeks, and retrieve the tray of fresh cookies. Zayne watches as you hold the tray in one hand and pick up the spatula with the other, one by one depositing the cookies onto a cooling rack.

He's halfway through his second cookie when you begin scooping an array of dough onto the tray. Sneaking a third from the first batch when you're pressing divots into the center of the dough-balls and dispensing pinches of sugar in them. Finishing the third when you're slipping the tray on the top rack of the oven and setting a new timer. You grab his hand before he can grab a fourth, tugging him away and toward the kitchen doorway.

"You're gonna make yourself sick one of these days," you playfully chide. "No more until after dinner. Or at least until I've boxed up the ones for Yvonne and Grayson."

He chuckles as you drag him all the way back to his office. Smiles like a lovestruck fool as you push him into his chair. He grabs your hips before you can pull away, settling you to be standing between his legs as he looks up at you like you're the moon itself.

"Will you tell me when you've finished?"

You brush his bangs aside from his forehead. Trail your touch down his cheek. Hold his chin as you run your thumb along his lips. "Finished baking or finished separating theirs out?"

His eyes close as he presses a kiss to your finger. "Both."

You lean down and kiss his forehead. "So long as I don't catch you sneaking out before then."

"I won't."

"Mm-hm."

He tilts his head back, eyes flickering to your lips. "I won't," he insists.

"You won't get caught, you mean." You brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He turns to fully catch your lips again. Draws you into him, until your knee is resting on the chair right up against his crotch. He murmurs breathlessly against your mouth, grinning with a subdued playfulness, "Now, I never said that."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz @that-lost-one @always-just-red @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @nothankyew @nezuswritingdesk @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @whisteriaremembers @leiakitty

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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solxamber · 9 months ago

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Hello! I saw your fic(?) On the reader being similar to the white rabbit!

So I had a similar idea but with absolem the caterpillar from Alice in wonderland. With heartslabyul, octavinelle and pomefiore (added on maybe chenya ?). Basically the reader is a 2nd year and is a very cocky person when it comes to things like subjects they get high scores in along with having bad anger issues? This is just an idea I have at the top of my head 😅 I also don't make requests often if that was clear lol.

Thank you if reading my request ! :)

It's been so long since I read Alice in Wonderland but I hope this is what you wanted <3

Absolem! Reader with Heartslabyul, Octavinelle and Pomefiore + Che'nya

Rest of the characters: here

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle Rosehearts had no idea how to handle you. On one hand, you were technically a model student—when you weren’t terrorizing everyone with your arrogance, that is. On the other hand, your cocky attitude made his eye twitch like he was seconds away from writing up a whole new rule just for your ego.

“You may have gotten the highest score in Alchemy,” Riddle said stiffly, his hands clenched behind his back like he was bracing himself for an incoming tidal wave of sass, “but that does not excuse you from following protocol during experiments!"

You leaned back in your chair, all smug grin and half-lidded eyes. “Oh, Riddle, Riddle, Riddle. If I followed your ‘protocol,’ we’d still be stuck trying to figure out how to transmute lead into potatoes.”

His face flushed as red as a rose. “That is not the point!”

“I’m just saying,” you replied with a shrug, “your rules are cute, but some of us prefer actual results.”

There was a long, tension-filled silence. Then, Riddle’s lips twitched, and you could almost hear his brain rewriting Rule 392: No Sassing The Dorm Leader.

Trey Clover

If Trey had a talent, it was the ability to defuse a situation with nothing more than a laid-back smile and a soft-spoken word or two. But when it came to your outbursts, even Trey occasionally had to roll up his sleeves.

“You’re getting pretty fired up over here, huh?” Trey said, folding his arms and giving you that calm, big-brother smile.

You narrowed your eyes. “They just don’t get it, Trey. If they’d actually listen to me, we’d be done with these stupid group projects in half the time.”

Trey hummed, still as placid as ever. “Maybe. Or maybe they just don’t appreciate being called ‘incompetent cabbage heads’ every time they mess up.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t call them that this time.”

“Oh, my mistake. That was last week.” Trey chuckled, grabbing a cupcake from a tray. “Anyway, maybe you should try a new approach. Like, I don’t know... baking?”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Is this another one of your ‘therapy via baked goods’ attempts? Because the last time I tried, Cater put the whole thing on Magicam, and I’m still seeing memes about ‘exploding tarts.’”

Trey just smiled knowingly. “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

Cater Diamond

“#MoodSwings, am I right?”

Cater had this incredible (and incredibly annoying) ability to pop up just when you were about to lose it. Today was no different. You were fuming over some insignificant thing someone said in class, and right when you were about to explode, there he was, phone at the ready.

“I swear, if you tag me in another one of your posts—” you started, but he was already snapping pics, duck-lip selfie style.

“Whoa, chill, bestie! It’s not my fault you’ve got that ‘rage extrodinaire’ aesthetic. The followers eat it up. Seriously, you should start a channel. #CaterToYourAnger.”

You glared. “I’d start with a video called ‘How to Get Away with Smashing Cater’s Phone.’”

Cater grinned, absolutely unfazed. “Aww, love you too, cupcake. Just think of all the likes we’d get!”

Ace Trappola

Ace? Oh, Ace lived to rile you up. He thrived on it like a plant soaking in the sun.

“So,” he said, leaning back against the wall with a smug grin, “I heard you were bragging about your Potions grade again. Shocking.”

You glared daggers at him. “I don’t have to brag. The results speak for themselves. Unlike your grades, which are probably hiding in the shadow of your last failed test.”

“Oof, that’s cold. You sure you’re not secretly studying Ice Magic?” Ace shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You know, all that boasting is just you overcompensating for something. Like, maybe you’re secretly terrible at everything else?”

Your temper flared instantly, and you stepped closer, ready to unleash your wrath. “Say that again, and I’ll show you what happens when—”

“Oh, hold on—Deuce! Hey, Deuce!” Ace shouted, and before you could lay into him, Deuce was running over, looking confused and ready to brawl for no reason.

“Are we fighting? We’re fighting, right?” Deuce asked, fists already up.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Deuce, no one’s fighting.”

“Yet,” Ace muttered with a wink, and you had to resist the urge to scream.

Deuce Spade

Deuce tried. He really did. But no matter how hard he tried to match your fiery personality, he just couldn’t seem to get it quite right.

“You know, I’ve been practicing too,” Deuce said one day, puffing out his chest like he was about to impress you. “I’m getting better at Transfiguration!”

You blinked. “Really? Didn’t you turn someone’s textbook into a chicken by accident last week?”

Deuce’s face turned red. “I-It wasn’t a chicken! It was... okay, maybe it was a chicken, but I’m improving!”

“Sure you are,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I bet your next experiment will turn the whole dorm into a petting zoo.”

Deuce stared at you for a moment, clearly weighing his options. “...That would actually be kinda cool.”

You facepalmed. “Deuce, please.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul wasn’t intimidated by your cockiness. No, in fact, he saw it as something to be... monetized. Because why not take that overblown confidence of yours and turn it into something profitable for the Mostro Lounge?

“You could be quite the business partner,” Azul remarked, smiling slyly from across his desk. “With your top grades and undeniable talent, I’m sure students would pay handsomely for tutoring sessions.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

Azul feigned innocence. “Catch? Why, there’s no catch at all. Just a little... arrangement. I take a modest percentage of the profits, and in return, you gain access to the resources of the Mostro Lounge. Think of it as... a mutually beneficial partnership.”

You tilted your head. “So basically, I do all the work, and you skim off the top?”

Azul’s grin widened. “A shrewd observation, but I prefer the term strategic partnership.”

Jade Leech

Jade, on the other hand, was a master of subtlety. He didn’t confront you head-on like the others did. No, Jade had this unnerving way of quietly watching you, like a predator biding its time.

“Your temper is quite fascinating,” Jade remarked one day, his eerie smile never faltering.

You crossed your arms defensively. “Fascinating how?"

“Oh, just the way it flares up so quickly. It’s almost... predictable.” He tilted his head slightly. “I wonder, how well do you control it in dangerous situations?”

“Why, are you planning to test me or something?” you asked warily, already regretting the question.

Jade chuckled softly. “Oh no, nothing of the sort. I’m merely... observing. You’re quite the specimen, after all.”

You shuddered. “Please stop talking like I’m some kind of lab rat.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd, on the other hand, lived to push your buttons. He loved it when you lost your cool because it meant you were interesting. And Floyd? He thrived on interesting.

“Oi, Shrimpy!” Floyd’s voice echoed across the lounge as he slung an arm around your shoulders. “Heard you got top marks again. Big shot, huh?”

You side-eyed him. “Don’t call me Shrimpy.”

“Awww, but I like it!” he whined, pouting dramatically. “You get all mad when I do it. It’s fun! Do it again! Get mad!”

You groaned. “Why are you like this?”

Floyd grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Why not? It’s more fun to watch you blow a gasket. Maybe I’ll squeeze ya real good next time you freak out.”

You shook him off. “No thanks, I’d rather not have my ribs crushed.”

“Awww, but that’s the best part!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil couldn’t stand your cocky attitude. Mostly because he couldn’t stand anything that was less than perfection—and in his eyes, you were far from it.

“Such arrogance,” Vil remarked, inspecting his reflection in a compact mirror as you ranted about how no one appreciated your brilliance. “It’s one thing to be talented, but it’s another thing entirely to lack grace.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. Like you’ve never been confident in your own abilities.”

Vil snapped the compact shut, finally looking at you with a sharp, withering gaze. “Confidence is one thing. Vulgarity is is another.” He raised an eyebrow, his perfect lips curving in a condescending smile. “And darling, you’re teetering dangerously close to the latter.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m just saying, if everyone else could keep up with me, maybe I wouldn’t have to be this way.”

Vil waved a hand dismissively. “Keep up with you? I highly doubt that. There’s a fine line between confidence and crudeness, and you’ve trampled right over it in those worn-out boots of yours.”

You glanced down at your boots, scowling. “Hey! My boots are perfectly fine!”

Vil gave you a once-over, a pitying sigh slipping from his lips. “I could recommend a stylist, but I doubt even the best could save you from that attitude of yours."

Rook Hunt

If there was anyone who found your fiery personality endlessly amusing, it was Rook. The man seemed to delight in your temper tantrums, treating them like some kind of grand performance.

“Oh, what a magnifique display of passion!” Rook exclaimed one afternoon, after you’d shouted at some poor first-year for knocking into you. “Your fire burns so brightly, it is a wonder you do not set the very air ablaze!”

You glared at him, still fuming. “I’m not trying to entertain you, Rook.”

“But you do! Oh, you do!” Rook clapped his hands together, his eyes shining with admiration. “To witness such raw emotion—it is truly a gift. You are like a tempest, sweeping all in your path.”

“Pretty sure that’s just a fancy way of saying I’m a walking disaster.”

“Non, non, non!” Rook laughed, shaking his head. “You are a force of nature, one that cannot be tamed! To tame such a spirit would be a crime against beauty itself!”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to be flattered or concerned. “Okay, sure. Whatever makes you happy, Rook.”

Epel Felmier

Epel had mixed feelings about you. On one hand, he admired your guts—your temper was something to be feared, and Epel respected that. On the other hand, you were annoying.

“You know, just ‘cause you’re good at Magic History doesn’t mean you gotta rub it in everyone’s face,” Epel grumbled one day after you’d corrected him in class. “Ain’t nobody here tryin’ to hear that.”

You leaned against the desk, a smug grin on your face. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep up. Maybe if you spent more time studying and less time trying to look tough, you’d have better grades.”

Epel’s face turned red. “I am tough! And if you say somethin’ like that again, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” You raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

Epel gritted his teeth, fists clenched at his sides. “I’ll... I’ll... kick your butt in PE next time!”

You snorted. “Sure, Epel. Let me know how that goes.”

He muttered something under his breath, probably swearing revenge in the form of some country-style wrestling move, but you were already too busy planning your next academic triumph to care.

Che'nya

Of course, Che’nya didn’t mind your attitude at all. In fact, he found it downright entertaining. He’d pop up at the most inconvenient moments, grinning that mischievous grin of his and waiting for you to lose your cool.

“Nyah~ Why so serious, Y/N?” Che’nya’s voice floated down from seemingly nowhere. “All that steam comin’ outta your ears can’t be good for your health.”

You looked up, scowling as you spotted him lounging in a tree, that trademark grin never leaving his face. “What do you want, Che’nya?”

He tilted his head, blinking innocently. “Just wonderin’ if you were plannin’ to blow a gasket today. I’ve got a front-row seat!"

“Get down here before I make you,” you snapped.

“Oooh, feisty! You know, it’s a good thing you’re not in Wonderland.” He chuckled, disappearing and reappearing right beside you. “You’d fit right in with all the wild tempers down there.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you’d fit right in with the pests.”

Che’nya laughed, not the least bit offended. “Nyah~ You say the sweetest things! See ya around, Hothead.”

And with that, he disappeared again, leaving you to stew in your own frustration. Typical Che’nya.

Masterlist

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amorchai · 3 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑.

this is a repost from my old blog. original post was 788 notes.

pairing(s): tasm!peter parker x reader

words: 698

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, mentions of food, mentions of the future.

“we need a sickening amount of frosting, no?” peter asks with a small hum to the music from the tiny pale green radio by the windowsill. the small kitchen filled with the sound of that added with stirring whisks and the air fogged with flour from his mistake only moments before.

you roll your eyes endearingly, facing your spider-boy who grins wholeheartedly, splotches of white dust on his cheeks and the tips of his hair while stirring the now contained cake mixture. “no we don’t.”

like you’ve committed a crime, peter looks offended with his response following, “uh, why would we not?”. you had always wanted to bake with peter, him finding some spare time through the autumn. varied shifts for patrol to spend some more quality time with you, the person he was horrendously infatuated with. yet, you had no idea.

however, the utter mess his large hands and instinctive nature can cause, you’re nearly regretting your wishes. if only he wasn’t so cute with how he displayed himself.

“it’s just a cinnamon roll recipe, why would we put proper frosting on top?” you ask him while glazing the tray where the dough will soon be placed into, you hope delicately. peter huffs, only teasingly and glaring at you with a hidden amusement while he moves to stand beside you, hip nudging yours when he responds.

“because it’s our recipe! why can’t we? we can come up with our own version of cinnamon rolls and have everyone swooning over them—” peter turns to your expression when you watch him with knowing eyes, he’s on a tangent which he usually does.

“—no, listen, baby. everyone will be like ‘where did you get these amazing, life altering cinnamon rolls with frosting?’ and our friends and aunt may will say, ‘the parkers made them, the best in new york’ and it’ll be our own little recipe.”

however, while peter is focused on your idea of being renowned for your couple baking, you can’t help but blur over everything else and focus on the idea of what he had said during it. you take the pan you tilted on your hip to place on the counter, then taking the messy bowl from peter’s flour-covered hands before leaning against him.

peter cuts himself off when he was ready to go onto his next ramble, but as you look up at him so lovingly, with your hands atop his collarbones, he cuts himself off to await your explanation for your sudden physical affection.

you move an arm to slide your thumb across his cheeks, clearing some flour from his face while you smile, “the parkers?”. peter’s lips form a small ‘o’ shape while he tries his best to replay what he said, arms tugging your waist closer and you’re leaning on your toes ever so slightly while he does so.

“yeah? do you… like that idea?” peter asks cautiously, but you are only smiling so brightly at your goofy friend with whom you’ve loved, of course you liked the idea, how could you not? “you think about that stuff?” you just ask instead, nose bumping his as your lips ghost his briefly. peter leans further into you.

“course i do, no one else for me, baby.”

your heart skips, stomach flips, and you feel you may cry at how sweet your terrible-baker crush is. cinnamon roll enthusiast or not, you loved him for who he was and the thought of spending your life with him only filled you an overwhelming warmth.

yet, while overwhelming, increasingly irretrievably inviting. just like peter himself.

“me too.” you peck peter’s lips, so softly that before he can react, you’re pulling away to turn to the baking bowl again. he’s a little flustered, red showing through the prior pale-dusted cheeks and unable to move at first from the effect you have on him.

“we could open our own bakery, spider-man themed cinnamon rolls?” you enquire teasingly, and he wraps himself around you from behind, cosy and as warm as the cinnamon rolls will be later on. “webbed frosting on pumpkin flavoured cookies,” peter murmurs while kissing your neck.

“sounds perfect.” “we could name it ‘parker’s pastries’.”

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

#જ⁀➴ 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 #𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 ⁑ tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tasm!spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader

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scorpioriesling · 3 months ago

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Hi! I don’t know if this is the right place because this is my first time sending a request, but basically I just finished fourth wing and it absolutely DESTROYED me so I was wondering if you could write a fluffy Liam mairi x reader fic or imagine where they are at Riorson house having a quiet day and decide to just dance around the kitchen and bake cookies or smt for the others!

Please don’t feel obligated to do it btw!

Tattooed Golden Retriever

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x reader

Warnings: fluff

Summary: A tiny peek into domestic life with Liam.

SR’s Note: More TTPD x Fourth Wing parallels? My specialty <3 You asked so nicely too -- and yes, I know the feeling. Fourth Wing rocked my shit too. Enjoy this short little domestic one-shot with our favorite blondie!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @freakishfandomfiend @desprrssooo-espresssooooo (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your fingers traced lightly along the large red dragon tattooed on your boyfriend's back. His muscles flexed when you traced over a rather ticklish spot, and a soft sleepy sound passed through his lips.

You couldn't help but grin; he was teh most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on, especially when he was sleeping. As the sun rose higher and higher outside the bedroom window, you finally decided it was time to begin the day.

Confusion swirled in your mind when you entered the empty kitchen; usually, Riorson house was a flurry of activity and busybodies needing their morning coffee. But, looking at the wall calender, the lightbulb went off in your head; it was training day for the new initiates, which meant...

You looked back and forth, straining your ears to listen for any sort of sound throughout the house. However, you heard nothing.

A thoughtful smile passed over your lips as you pulled out the ingrdients for blueberry pancakes; Liam's favorite, of course. It wasn't until you were pouring the batter on the hot pan that you felt a pair of warm, familiar hands snake around your torso.

"Good morning, my love," Liam rasped, his voice still groggy with sleep. You grinned, turning to look over your shoulder where your boyfriend rested his chin. He pressed his lips to yours, and you sighed in contentment at the touch.

"Mmm... blueberry?" He asked, smiling softly as he pulled away. You nodded, and he pecked your cheek. "What did I do for such a reward?"

You rolled your eyes, flipping the cake over in the pan. "Oh, I just wanted to do something sweet."

He pulled out a barstool and sat down on it, gazing across the counter at you as you worked.

"You're always sweet," he said, and you couldn't help but blush. The pancake had turned golden-brown, and you flipped it onto a plate. Turning to slide it to him, you gasped when you came chest-to-chest instead.

"Liam-"

He gently took the plate from you, setting it on the island behind him. When he turned back, he slid a hand around your waist, taking your other hand in his. A little giggle sounded in your throat, and Liam pulled you against him, beginning to sway the two of you around the kitchen.

"Liam -- you're pancakes, they're going to get cold-"

"Shhh," he gently pulled your head against his chest, and you breathe in his vanilla musky scent. He continues swaying the two of you, not caring much for the fresh breakfast but instead, more interested in the woman in his arms.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

#the empyrean #iron flame imagine #iron flame #onyx storm #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #read more #liam mairi imagine #liam mairi x you #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi

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wonkyjaw · 7 months ago

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So one thing about me is that I bake a lot and don’t particularly like sweet sweet things so end up bringing baked goods places and pawning them off on people and there are some circles that then ask me for recipes if they like the thing but I have ADHD and can’t sit there and read a full recipe so when I write down recipes it’s a list of ingredients and then like a couple shorthand notes and usually random changes as I’ve fiddled with it scratched into the margins so writing a recipe down for someone else becomes this arduous process that hurts my brain and the long and short of it is that it’s 100% easier to just ask me to make it again for you please don’t make me write recipes please I’ll cry

#it’s always either someone who doesn’t know how to bake #or an old lady who would argue with the weird way I’ve changed a recipe too #like playing with adding cold eggs for crackly tops in cookies is fun but counterintuitive #idk #half of my recipes are just lists on mini post it’s tacked to my cabinet doors #it’s 6am and I have a lot of feelings #i need a new personal tag

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ravenclaw-jojo · 3 months ago

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Fandom: LaDS Pairings: Xavier x afab!reader Tags: Breeding kink, light bondage (pun not intended 😏), creampie (wrap it before you tap it cough), jealousy-possessive love, dirty talk, Xavier jealous of everyone (what’s new?), praising degradation kink (you heard me), slight dom-sub relationship. MDNI. WC: 1.7k Description: Caleb’s return and the new neighbor at your apartment building puts Xavier on edge. A/N: Inspired by a prompt I read on Pinterest (and may have different versions for different characters). For @laddelulu30 and her ask, I present to you, Xavier’s version. ;)

A/N^2: Life decided to be life so I’m here posting instead of processing feelings and following the downward spiral where everything hurts. We patch it up with reruns of Gilmore Girls and fictional world! Anyway, enough rambles…I do hope you enjoy! Forewarning this might’ve gotten a little unhinged towards the end, and proofreading might’ve gone out the window ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As if it wasn’t bad enough that when you both returned to your apartment later that evening, there was a basket covered with a red tartan-patterned cloth and a note in a thick, cream envelope waiting for you at your doorstep – but now you were smiling at your phone with that softened expression that accompanied someone’s reappearance in your life.

“Another text message from Caleb?” He tried to sound nonchalant, oceanic blue eyes barely glancing in your direction as he closed the self-locking door behind him. “He seems to have a lot to share with you. Funny considering he hadn’t been able to text you sooner.” The snideness in his typically soft-spoken voice was hard to ignore.

You placed your phone on the charging tablet, “Did you take a peek in that basket yet?” You attempted to steer the conversation to another topic, realizing only too late that you’d just jump from the frying pan and into the fire.

“Hmph. Just more gifts for you.” He pulled back the cloth to reveal freshly baked bread from the new neighbor, Charlie. He’d also opened the bakery that wasn’t far of a walk from the apartments. “It’s bread. It’s not just a gift for me, it’s something to eat. To share. There’s no way I’m going to be able to eat all of that on my own.” You protested. Still, Xavier stared at the basket of baked goods as if it had personally offended every one of his ancestors. He folded his arms, “I don’t want to eat any of that. It’s not even that good.” Xavier added in an off-handed manner with suggestive pettiness.

Attempting to keep the smile from your face, you gently patted his elbow. “How about we make some of our own then? I’ve got bananas sitting around that should be juuuust ripe to make a great banana bread.” You pattered towards the cupboards of your kitchen, searching for the ingredients you’d need. Xavier followed you, his silence clearly telling of his lingering annoyance.

“Here.” You pass him a clean glass bowl with the overripe bananas in it. “You can start mashing while I measure out the other ingredients. Oh and can you preheat the oven?” You asked, forcing him to start working. Xavier hummed in acceptance, keying in the temperature into the oven’s interface. Through the crack of the sliding door, the wind carried in the scent of Spring through your apartment along the gentle bird calls as they foraged and hunted. The speakers hooked up throughout your apartment poured gentle piano ballads and symphonies in the background. While you flitted around the small space, Xavier pretended to keep his focus on the bananas, but this was barely a challenge, he’d taken out 30 Wanderers at a time before, peeling and cutting bananas was hardly…

He was well aware of when you bent forwards to measure flour on the kitchen scale, even more aware of the way your shirt rode upwards, appreciating the expanse of skin that peeked beneath the hem. His small smile morphed into a scowl when your phone pinged again.

With narrowed eyes, he watched you slide various dry ingredients towards him, fingertips dusty with flour. “Another text from Caleb?” He worked extra hard to keep his voice nonchalant.

You went to wipe your hands on a dishcloth, opening the refrigerator to retrieve the jug of milk, “I would assume so? He was just asking about-...”

“It’s starting to get tiresome, Little Light.” You’ve marveled before at his capabilities to sneak up on his targets such silence and swiftness. Today, your amazement reached new levels, especially when his voice was close to your ear. Suddenly, you’re all too aware of the heat radiating from his body. You turned around to face him though you instantaneously found yourself pushed up against the chrome refrigerator’s door.

“I want you. I need you.” He mumbled, his nose following the delicate column of your neck.

“Xav…” You giggled, placing your hands against his chest trying to push him back. His large hands covered yours as he closed the distance between you both, leaving just a mere centimeter or two away from brushing each other’s lips. “You’re this ball of sunshine, people can’t help but get drawn to you, can they?” He’s taking deep breaths now, creating another core memory for himself with the way your perfume lingered on his senses when his lips traced a path to the collar of your shirt.

“It wouldn’t be so annoying if they would leave it at the front door. But then they’re sending you texts…” Your breath catches in your throat, a soft ‘eep’ when he picks you up to place you on the kitchen counter beside the dry ingredients you had so carefully measured out.

On instinct, your arms wrap around his neck, him nudging your knees apart with his leg. “You can’t really be upset-...”

“You’re mine, Little Light.” Xavier’s voice is soft but carried an edge that was sharp enough to slice a diamond. “-And I’m tired of staying silent.”

He didn’t give you time to think, not when his hands are slipping your shirt over your head, eyes darkening to the vivid obsidian of a blackhole as he took in the sight of your cute cotton bra in that warm buttery yellow that accentuates your skin tone. It was as if he was controlled by some other being – no – an urge. He stuck his fingers in the softened butter lined up beside the glass bowl earlier, then dipped those same fingers in the dry flour. Your quizzical expression is answered when he starts to draw on your skin, leaving white streaks in their trail.

A few seconds later you realize that he was writing on you. With flour. And butter.

‘Xavier’s girl’, ‘Xavier’s light’, ‘Xavier’s love’

His freehand unbuttoned your pants, roughly pulling them down, impatience leaving it dangling around your ankle – not an abnormal occurrence. What was different was the sheer determination rolling off his body in waves, desperate like someone was holding a timer over your heads and you would disappear before he was done with his ‘project’. Your fingers tangle in his feather soft hair, curling and pulling hard so you could steady yourself against the ticklish feel of his fingers tracing words on your body. His messy scrawls were now over your stomach, your thighs…

The matching panty set was going to be the death of him, your name escaping his lips in a growl that made you melt under his touch. There’s a raw intensity to the way his breath caressed the syllables of your name, his hand now ripping at your underclothes, the words on your skin progressing in degrees of filth as he gave into his depravity.

‘Xavier’s good brat, ‘Xavier’s cum slut’, ‘Xavier’s breedable bunny’

The ‘y’ curled under your navel towards your aching need.

“Damn it.” He muttered, his eyes dilating with an almost apologetic air before he breathed the next command, “I’m making you mine tonight, Little Light-”

“I’m already–” You started to argue but he caught you mid-sentence, effectively swallowing the rest of your sentence in a deep, searing kiss.

“I know, I know.” Xavier’s breathing is ragged, forehead pressed lightly against yours. “-What I mean is,” He wanted to remember everything about this moment – the scent of raw flour lingering in the air, his fingers greasy with butter, your perfume interlaced with the faintest scent of gods damn bananas… “-what I mean is I want to breed you…want to make you a mommy,” His lips latched around your hardened nipple, swirling his tongue in the most sinful manner as his hand that’d been steadying your lower back on the kitchen counter, slid to your slick folds searching for that eager, needy bundle of nerves he was familiar with.

“Put a baby in you so everyone knows you’re mine…” He continued to mumble, his palm now smearing the buttery-mixture over your abdomen. “--no arguments, no texts…” Nonsensical babbling while he spelled his name over and over again using your slick. “No other bread but mine…” “Bun.”

His eyes snapped to yours, his breathing ragged. “What?”

“I…I think you mean ‘bun’...like ‘bun in the oven’...” Xavier’s smirk deepened with a feral touch. “Then let me show you how I’m the greatest baker you know.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Hot water rained over the two of you from the ceiling-shower head, despite that, the running rivulets barely rivalled the heat in your core. Xavier had an arm hooked under your knee, supporting you with a hand on your waist. Your palms were pressed against the steamy glass wall, unable to do anything when the angelic man currently rutting into you had them in cuffs fashioned from his light evol.

“Xav, I can’t…”

“You can. You’re Miss Perfect Hunter, I’m your partner. Don’t you think I’d know the limit to your stamina?” His hand slides around your throat from behind, his fingers tilting your chin so he could look into your lust-blown eyes. “You’ve got plenty to give. Let me hear you.”

The velvet-mushroom tip of his cock practically kissing your cervix was enough to make your mouth drop into that perfect ‘o’, a whine from the back of your throat as water flowed over your clit, stimulating you in another manner that had you trembling in his grip.

“Xavier…”

“Fuck.” It was that tone. That cadence in which you called his name pushed him over the edge.

He bit your shoulder when his release took him – and you – for another drawn out orgasm, causing the light-evol cuffs around your wrists to flicker for a moment or two, Xavier’s vision was overcome with white. Your silken walls tighten around him and yet he refuses to pull out, not even when he could feel his seed overflowing from you, the soft moans you made enough to make his cock continue to jerk and spasm in you.

“I know, I know…It’s a lot. But you’re taking this so well, Little Light.” He murmured, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, fingers combing through your wet locks gently. “And we’re still not done yet.” He smirked. His grip tightened before another blinding flash of light and you both are now dripping water onto your bed sheets instead.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

ravenclaw-jojo™️2025 writing | No copying, plagiarizing or translations without expressed permission.

#love and deepspace #lads #lads smut #xavier x mc #xavier x reader #lnds xavier #yoyo writes

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azirafeast · 7 months ago

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This year is the 5th Annual #Azirafeast, The Feast Day of the Angel Aziraphale, an inclusive fandom event! It’s celebrated on November 19th! It’s a made up holiday that brings the community together, regardless of how a person participates in fandom.

On Nov.19, everyone is welcome to celebrate The Feast Day of Aziraphale by drinking cocoa and wine, eating good food, reading, being stylish on their own terms, enjoying the company of friends and embracing the spirit of Aziraphale! Please share your pics on socials with #Azirafeast!

On Nov. 19, Creators are encouraged to show Aziraphale indulging in what makes him happy or why you love him (canon or fanon!) Create “Lore” for why Aziraphale has a feast day! What miracles throughout history has he performed? Creations can be dramatic, serious, sexy or silly!

All forms of creation are welcome: Draw, write, sing, act, sew, bake, cosplay or anything else! However YOU want to appreciate our favorite Angel. All variations, versions and representations of Aziraphale are welcome for #Azirafeast

And remember, you don’t have to “make” anything to participate in #Azirafeast on Nov. 19. Eating cake and lying to your boss is a great way to celebrate! Confuse some customers, watch a nature documentary, get drunk, listen to your favorite music, be kind to someone who is new or lost!

Anything tagged #Azirafeast I will reblog, the same on Bluesky, Instagram and Twitter. I’ve had a permanent highlight on my Instagram for the last four years, and maintained this tumblr. Checkout what others have made for previous years!

There is also an AO3 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Azirafeast

Anything added to it I will promote on my socials for #Azirafeast.

I know I don’t have the biggest following, but the idea is that on the feast of Aziraphale, even fans who don’t have a large social media presence will still be seen, still have their experiences noticed, and will feel part of a community that cares.

Folks can get stressed about creating by a “due date.” I encourage folk to post early if they want, and to keep posting after Nov. 19th if they miss the day or don’t finish in time.

Just make sure to tag your contributions, whether they are pics or creations, with #azirafeast so we can celebrate with you! Please feel welcome to take my words and reshare any way that you would like, and make your own posts to generate awareness! Please do share in any fandom communities your part of, or feel free to try and convince people IRL that this is a totally real holiday.

I do not run, own, control or anything of the sort in regards to #azirafeast. The idea came from Cliopadra and a private discord server, and the brilliant folk there randomly picked a date and ran with it. The reason I made this blog and encourage people to participate is because I think it’s a lovely idea! It is NOT “mine.”

#azirafeast #Azirafeast2024 #feast of aziraphale #azirafeast art #good omens #good omens fandom #the feast of aziraphale

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gudfornuthin · 3 months ago

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The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter one

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Summary: a well loved and respected bakery owned by none other than ex marine Frank Castle. A new neighbour moves in across the street

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

Word count: 1k (other chapters will be longer)

A/N: I'm so excited to share this brand-new series with you all! It’s a long one so buckle up. I'll be uploading one a week, so if anyone would like to be tagged in future updates, just let me know. Also, this idea comes from a poem I wrote a few years ago (called the baker and the ballerina) and how l've been watching The Punisher. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be a Frank fic or a Michael (the bear) fic, but Frank won so here we are lol. Feedback is always appreciated, thank you :)

The small bakery on 31st street, appropriately named Bakehouse 31, is a warm welcome for many tourists and a familiar face to a lot of the locals. The smell of fresh bread and pastries consume the surrounding area, drawing in anyone who dares to pass it. The people love to buy, and the employees love to sell. And all of this is because of the hard work and effort from one man; Frank Castle. From first impressions, no one would believe this was the man behind the quaint and cosy bakery. Whether it was his big muscles and stern expression, or his tough personality most people can't figure out how to crack, it always comes as a shock to learn he's the one who built Bakehouse 31 from the ground up. But Frank is passionate about what he does, and after leaving the Marines a few years back, he needed the unusual change. Even if there were some people who didn't fully support it.

- - -

"Here's your almond croissant and black coffee. Have a good day."

It's Monday morning and Bakehouse 31 is busy as always, packed with commuters on their way to work and the regular retired customers setting up on their chosen table for the next few hours. Frank is front and centre, handing out the baked goods and holding conversations he would rather not be having. His co-worker and friend, David, chooses not to be as productive. He leans on the counter, instead keeping busy by doing a crossword puzzle in the paper.

"What's another word for a mule?" he asks to anyone listening.

"Jackass," Frank replies, adding extra muffins to the display.

David shakes his head. "No that doesn't fit."

"I wasn't talking about the crossword."

David glares at his friend as some of the customers in ear shot chuckle.

He throws the paper down on the side, moving over to the coffee machine and finally helping with some of the orders.

"You ever think of hiring someone else?" David questions.

Frank looks back at him. "What, to replace you? All the time."

"Wow, you're jack of all trades today. Baker, comedian and asshole," David bites back. "I'm serious though. We're stumped most days, wouldn't hurt to have an extra pair of hands around here."

Frank packs a couple bagels and a baguette, handing them to the next customer and telling them to have a good day. He definitely doesn't get tired of saying that.

"We're fine, I can do most of this shit with my eyes closed," Frank responds, grabbing the coffees David made. "And when you actually pay attention, we can breeze through the day no problem."

"Yeah yeah."

The pair continues moving around each other and dealing with orders, the day passing by with no issues. By 2pm, most of the baked goods have been sold, and the only people left in the store is Frank and David, as well as a few regulars who stay until closing time.

The bell above the door rings and an old woman enters.

"Hey Flo," Frank greets her. "Usual?"

"Thanks, extra sugar in the coffee," she replies, Frank nodding already knowing the drill. "So, you boys looking forward to getting new neighbours?"

"What're you talking about?" David asks, his focus back on the crossword puzzle.

"The moving van across the street," Flo sounds surprised, assuming they were aware of what was happening opposite their bakery.

"Someone's bought the abandoned studio."

"Well if they're anything like the last people who owned it," Frank mumbles, thinking back to the drug bust and the obvious smell of marijuana seeping from the building.

David moves from behind the counter and toward the window, trying to get a good look at the people across the street.

Flo waves Frank off. "No no, I just spoke to the person who bought it. Lovely young woman, she's planning on renovating it into a dance studio."

Frank hums, not paying too much attention as he wipes down the counters, hoping to finish earlier than usual. David, however, has lost interest in any work he was doing, continuing to look out the window as the movers unpack the few items from the van. Flo walks over and stands next to him, the pair not being subtle about their nosiness.

David points, smudging the glass with his finger. "Is that her?" Flo nods. "Yeah, that's her. Oh she was absolutely delightful to talk to.”

"And not bad to look at either."

Frank shakes his head at his friend's words. "Oh great, like you need more distractions."

"Nah," David says, turning to briefly look at Frank. "You might though."

Flo giggles and Frank can't help but smile. "Not happening. I have a lot on my plate already," he moves over to David, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and pulling him away from the window. "And so do you. I think it's your turn to wash up, right?"

David grumbles like a child, shuffling back behind the counter and pushing the door leading to the kitchen. "Fine, but l'm taking an extra half hour for break tomorrow."

He disappears into the back, leaving Frank to pack everything away in the front. Flo takes her now lukewarm coffee and cinnamon bun, bidding goodbye to Frank and exiting the bakery. He watches her go, his eyes inadvertently drifting to the moving van. The woman isn't anywhere to be seen, most likely dealing with the definite mess left behind in the abandoned lot. Frank goes back to wiping things down, forgetting about the conversation he just had, and the young woman he most likely won't be bumping into anytime soon.

- - -

Taglist: [TBD]

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #punisher x reader #the punisher #x reader #marvel

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wh1msic4lwasab1 · 3 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ A Simple Life ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

synopsis: sfw headcannons w/husband!Alucard x reader living in a cottage in a prairie

tags: tooth rotting fluff

a/n: this was a request and i sobbed writing it wow i love alucard

wrd cnt: 1.3k

Cooking Together

With living this way, a lot of your food was homemade and even better for it.

One afternoon, you decide to bake a new buckwheat bread together after he found an entire field of it not too far south of your cottage.

It ends, like you thought, in chaos.

"You added salt instead of sugar!" You accuse him.

"Well…..they look the same?”

Flour ends up on the floor, on your clothes, and definitely on Alucard's nose, that last one wasn’t a mistake though.

"You've got something-" you start, but he flicks more flour onto your cheek.

"Oh, it's war now," you declare.

Flour flies through the air as the both of you duck behind counters, laughing and giggling, both covered in the powder. When it finally ends, you’re breathless and tangled on the floor, clutching each other.

"You're lucky I love you," you whisper.

"I live on that luck," he grins, brushing flour from your lips before kissing them lovingly.

Protectiveness

Though the two of you lived in peace, Alucard's protective instincts never left him, especially towards his darling.

When you walk through the forest, he always positions himself slightly between you and the trees. His eyes always scanning the shadows, though he tries to do it subtly as to not scare you.

"Are you expecting wolves?" you tease.

"Only if they're foolish enough to come near you," he replies smoothly with a smile.

In the kitchen, he always hands you the duller knife, not that he says it out loud.

He wraps scarves around your neck himself when it's cold. He double-checks the windows at night.

"Alucard," you sigh, "you don't have to guard me."

He turns to you, eyes gentle. "I know. But I want to. I know you can do it yourself, but let me do it for you.”

You rest your head against his chest, hands holding his. "Then just guard my heart."

He holds you a little closer than before. "Without question."

Love Notes

Alucard has a habit of leaving handwritten notes tucked into odd places, he doesn’t think it’s odd at all- not when every part of his being belongs to you.

You’d find them in your coat pocket: “Wear something warm. I want to take you star-gazing tonight”

For inside the sugar jar: “You're the only thing sweeter than this.”

Also in the books you read: “You are the chapter I never want to end.”

It’s cheesy, yes, but of course, you can’t stop yourself from writing back, leaving playful replies.

Sometimes, you catch him mid-note.

"Caught you," you grin, peeping into your bedroom when the door is ajar.

He smiles softly, swiftly putting the note behind him. "I like reminding you how much I love you."

"You don't have to write it down."

"I know," he says, pressing a kiss to your hand. "But I want you to find it even when I'm not near."

“What’s that one say?” You ask, referring to the one he’s hiding behind his back.

“You’ll find it soon.” He promises.

Tending to the Garden Together

Due to your lifestyle, it’s only understandable that you’d rather plant your own food than go to the villages and towns far away for your produce.

Your garden is small but lively.

You planted it together with care, each herb and flower chosen with intention.

Alucard tends to the lavender and rosemary with reverence, while you tackle the stubborn wildflowers that bloom freely around the edges.

"You've got dirt on your nose," he says, smirking.

You look up, swiping at it. "Better than being sensitive to sunlight." You get back at him.

He leans down to kiss your dusty forehead. "A small price for your love."

You both love to spend hours under the open sky, hands brushing over basil, tomatoes, and violets.

Sometimes he wraps his arms around ypu from behind, resting his chin on their shoulder.

"Think it'll grow?" you ask, looking at the lemongrass in front of you.

"It already has," he whispers, meaning more than just the plants.

At dusk, you both watch the fireflies blink over the garden. The lake reflects stars, and Alucard holds your hand like it's something sacred.

"Promise me we’ll have this forever," you say, more than ask.

He looks at you with ancient, unshakable devotion. "For as long I breathe, and long after that too.”

Reading Together by the Fireplace

Your location brings you all four seasons and each with its own unique needs, but your favorite is winter. The snow falls thick and quiet across the prairie and visits your home each year.

In the evenings, the two of you sit pressed up in a nest of quilts you knitted with some yarn he bought you from a traveling merchant. The fireplace is crackling and the snow hushed the world outside through the windows.

Alucard reads aloud, his voice low and melodic. Sometimes it's poetry, sometimes ancient texts, sometimes silly fairy tales.

“And the prince turned into a fox,” he reads, amused.

"Sounds familiar," you grin, poking his side.

He arches a brow. "Are you calling me a fox?"

"I'm calling you sneaky."

He chuckles and leans in close. "Well I'm calling you adorable, my princess."

Your soft laughter echoes off the cabin walls.

Later, the book forgotten, you curl up together and talk about everything or nothing at all.

"Do you ever miss the castle?" you ask him, a question that’s been on your mind for many seasons.

"Not when you're here," he murmurs. "This is home, our home."

Morning Routines

Arguably the best part of the day is the very early mornings at the prairie.

Every morning, Alucard wakes before the sun rises. Not out of necessity-just so he can admire the person he loves most before the world stirs.

Before the rays of sunlights seeping into your room wake you, he takes the time to brushe stray hair from their forehead, kisses you softly, and murmuring, "I could watch you for centuries and never tire." You, still wrapped in blankets, usually stir awake with a smile and giggles as he kisses your lips awake.

"You're staring again," you mumble, slowly opening their eyes.

"Always," he replies.

You spend quiet mornings brewing tea in your little kitchen, the same sunlight slanting through the windows as they follow you two throughout your routine, like ritual. Alucard always insists on serving you first, placing the warm mug into your hands with the kind of reverence saved for holy things.

“You act like l'm made of glass."

"No," he says, kissing your temple and placing your plate infront of you. "You're made of stars.”

Stargazing

Speaking of stars, most nights, you two sit out by the lake under a heavy wool blanket, backs against a smooth boulder, watching stars blink awake in the darkening sky.

"Tell me a story," you ask one evening, as you usually do. You know your husband is a walking museum of time, full of anecdotes. But he also loves to make up his own, for your entertainment of course.

Alucard tilts his head, thinking. "Once there was a lonely prince in a castle of shadows, until a light found him and taught him to laugh again, just what he needed and more."

"Was the light pretty?" You say, clearly catching on to his flirting.

"The prettiest. Blinding, really." He mentions, chuckling deeply.

You laugh and rest their head on his shoulder. "You're shameless." You say, poking his side. That bastard, daring to be so sweet it made you dizzy.

"I'm in love," he says simply.

Your fingers intertwine over the blanket.

Alucard's thumb brushes slow circles. The stillness like the lake reflects the same love between you, deep and gentle.

He looks at the stars and then at you. "I used to think quite often, I was too broken for this."

You squeeze his hand. "You were just waiting to be loved right."

He kisses your knuckles. "I was waiting for you. Every day."

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#alucard #castlevania #castlevania community #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania nocturne #castlevania alucard #alucard imagines #alucard tepes #tepes #adrian tepes #adrian castlevania #adrien tepes #castlevania art #vampires #vampire #vampire fanfiction #sfw #headcannons #fluff

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