#my guy was the only one he didn’t kill.

[likeumeanit9497]

i know you know | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: after a night at a party, matt hears his best friend sleeping with someone. the memory of it overtakes him all the next day, and he can't get it off his mind. but what happens when it turns out that she wanted him to hear all along?

warnings: SMUT (holy fuck this is smutty); established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); unprotected p in v (don't do this); absolutely filthy talk; voyeurism vibes; switch!matt; mentions of alcohol; 18+

notes: guys i fear i might have just written my new fave one shot. i warned y'all that i only have matt ideas rn, but this one is SO GOOD i had to post immediately. i normally don't go feral for my own writing but this one made me get up and do a few laps around the house tbh. i hope y'all like it as much as i liked writing it LOVE U LOVE U LOVE U MUAH

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“Matt?” You called his name as you began climbing up his front steps. “Hey, I’m doing laundry.” His voice rang through the house, and as you entered the empty kitchen you saw his back in the hallway as he folded a pair of jeans and placed them on the neat pile of clean laundry stacked on top of the washing machine. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment half in greeting and half to help ease the pounding in your heavy head.

“Last night almost killed me. How are you feeling?” You asked him, lifting your head off of his shoulder so that he could face you. His eyes were tired, his hair was a mess, but there was a slight glint of curiosity in his eyes that caught you off guard. After staring at you for a moment too long, he replied. “I feel alright. Slept most of the day though.” You released a soft laugh.

Last night, you and Matt went to a big party for one of your mutual friends. What was supposed to be an early night — both of you agreeing to show face for an hour and then head home — turned into one filled with dancing, too much tequila, and a night spent on the couch of the host for you both. Once you were both sober in the morning, Matt drove you home and you both tended to your own hangovers for the rest of the day. Now it was Sunday evening, and you two decided to spend it watching a movie and eating shitty food.

“Same here,” You replied, “I literally rolled out of bed 30 minutes ago. You’re lucky I even had enough energy to drive over here.” You leaned against the running dryer, and watched as one of Matt’s eyebrows arched as he continued folding clothes. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He replied, a smile threatening to creep over his mouth. Noticing the knowing tone in his voice, you grew confused.

What you didn’t know, was that Matt knew that it wasn’t just the two of you who had spent the night on that sectional couch. He had noticed you spending a lot of time with Carrington, a good friend of the host. He watched the two of you throughout the night — he saw you touch him any chance you got; saw you dance on him once you got really drunk; and most definitely saw you press your lips to his at the end of the night. So, late last night as he tried his best to sleep, when he heard the creek of the stairs and felt the dip in the couch, he knew that Carrington had laid down with you. That was confirmed when he heard the soft whispers that you two shared before the sound of wet kisses filled the dark room. A moment later, he laid as still as he could as he felt the couch begin to move in a rhythm that could only mean one thing.

Although you and Matt had the type of strong friendship where you both felt comfortable telling the other about your sex lives, never before had either of you been so close in proximity to the act itself. Although he was facing the opposite direction, Matt knew that your feet were only centimetres from his head, and the thought of invading your privacy like this, albeit unintentional, made his cheeks flush red. Even in his belligerent state, Matt had been shocked, and he considered making the fact that he was still awake known. Until he heard it.

Your soft moans floated like music in his mind, and they were unlike anything he had heard before. They were angelic, breathless; as if the air was being pushed out of your lungs involuntarily to create the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The heat that he felt in his cheeks immediately began travelling down his body, right to his growing member. And then, the unmistakable wet sounds of your arousal — surely dripping from you not more than two feet away from his ear — caused his head to spin. The two sounds radiating from you created the perfect harmony, and they made his cock press excruciatingly against his stomach; desperate for some relief.

The movement of the couch — and with it, your moans and wetness — increased in speed. As it did, your soft voice, so familiar and divine, whispered into the quiet room, “I’m gonna cum!” Matt pressed his pelvis into the couch, doing his best to relieve some of the pressure he felt in the tip of his cock. As your moans got louder, his heart pounded faster. Suddenly, as you reached your orgasm and began riding the waves, he felt one of your feet lightly graze his bare back. Goosebumps immediately rose on his skin, and the slight contact in combination with everything he heard was so intense that he thought he was going to cum all over himself.

But just then, the room grew painfully silent once again. After some time, the indistinguishable whispering returned, then the sound of one quick kiss, and finally, the creaking sound of the stairs. You two were alone once again, and in the silence Matt began to question whether or not he had dreamt it all. That was, until he heard your soft voice whisper his name. Immediately, he felt his body react, but stayed as still as possible so that you would think he was asleep. He seemed to do a good enough job, as after not getting a response, you slowly got off the bed and walked to the bathroom.

Once he heard the door click shut, his eyes shot open. The air was filled with the addictive smell of sex, and his cock had grown so hard that it was throbbing. Tentatively, he ran his hand along his shaft still in his boxers and had to stifle a guttural moan from the brief contact. No, he couldn’t do this here. Not when you were in the next room able to walk back through the door at any moment. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep. He would just have to try to get to sleep, and deal with his spiralling brain tomorrow.

Well, now it was tomorrow, and he had spent the entire day thinking about it. When he had woken up to your smiling face asking for a ride home, he had felt riddled with guilt; as if he had taken advantage of you. The guilt was only exemplified when, once he was alone, he had spent every minute thinking about it; his dick growing hard every time he heard your moans in the back of his mind. Even as he slept the day away, he had dreams about it and had even woken himself up by grinding his hips against his mattress. It had been driving him crazy, and now you were standing in front of him, seemingly oblivious to everything that had been running through his mind, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Hello? Earth to Matt?” Your voice pulled him out of his train of thought, and immediately his cheeks flushed when he realized that he had been completely zoned out for god knows how long. “Oh, uh, sorry.” He mumbled, folding the shirt he had in his hands. “You’ve deadass folded and re-folded that shirt like five times. Are you okay?” You asked, concern etched across your face. Gulping, Matt nodded his head. “Shit really? Must be the brain fog.” He forced out a laugh that sounded painful to his own ears, but it seemed to be convincing enough for you, as you once again relaxed against the dryer.

Matt’s focus went back to the pile of clothes in front of him, and as he began organizing the pile of socks, he heard what he had been reimagining over and over again in his mind. That now achingly familiar soft moan of yours. His whole body jolted in shock, the sound much more vivid than it had been in his memory. Slowly, his eyes were pulled from the laundry to your face, and he found your eyes shut in ecstasy as you leaned against the running dryer. His jaw almost dropped at the sight, and his cock, already having been on high alert all day, immediately responded.

“This feels so good.” You whispered, just as you had the night before, and Matt had to brace himself against the washing machine to stay upright. Your eyes were still closed, a small smile crept onto your full lips, and in that moment it all became too much for him. His cock was pulsing in rhythm with his rapid heartbeat, and as you released another small moan and bit your bottom lip, he began to wonder if maybe — just maybe — you had wanted him to hear you last night.

His hunch grew stronger and stronger as he continued to take in your expression with your back pressed against the dryer, and he felt the shame strip off of him as your hooded eyes finally opened slowly. They landed on his dilated eyes and slowly trailed down to the impressive bulge in his pants. Looking back up at his flushed face, you couldn’t help but smile shamelessly. Because he had been right.

It hadn’t been planned, of course, but once Carrington pushed himself into you, the thought of Matt being just on the other side of the couch filled you with a new and unfamiliar level of arousal. So as you moaned, you hoped that he would hear it. The thought of him listening caused you to grow more wet than you ever had before, and it didn’t take long for you to finish. As you came, you purposefully brushed your foot against him; trying to let him know that it was him you were thinking about as you unraveled.

You hadn’t been sure that he heard you, after all when you whispered his name he hadn’t answered, but the way he had been acting since you arrived at his house today — zoning out, avoiding eye contact, and seeming extremely flustered — you know that he knows. And knowing the effect it had on him, you want him to do something about it.

Matt watched as you put both hands on the dryer before hoisting yourself up to sit on it. With the dryer running, the vibration that came from it shot right to your core, and subconsciously your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Matt watched, completely stunned, as you pleasured yourself on top of the dryer. He was in such a state of shock that he wasn’t even sure if this was real life. You rolled your hips once, twice, against the machine, and then suddenly your eyes were on him again. The pleasure you were experiencing was etched into your face — your full lips a dark shade of red, dark eyebrows knit together, pink cheeks flushed — and it drove him crazy. But it wasn’t until your lips turned up in a small smile and you grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you, that he was finally able to move.

“You heard me last night, didn’t you.” You finally regarded the elephant in the room, and watched as his eyes bulged slightly in surprise at your knowing gaze. Very slightly, he nodded his head; his eyes were planted on your lips. “Should we talk about it?” You asked, dragging your fingertips up and down his torso slowly; feeling his stomach tense each time you reached below his belly button. Still hypnotized by your lips, Matt placed his hands on each side of your face before shaking his head no.

Without hesitation, he engulfed your mouth with his own. They moved with a quivering desperation that can’t be sufficiently described with words. His hands ran through your hair, pulling you as close to him as he could. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, gasping at the feeling of his rock hard member pressing against your aching core. It seemed to affect him too, because as soon as they made contact a small grunt fell from his lips and landed on yours.

Matt’s hands eventually moved from your hair and snaked down to your waist, where he quickly pulled your loose-fitting sundress up and exposed your bare tits. You watched as he took a moment to admire their fullness before bringing his mouth to one. He nibbled and sucked on your sensitive nipple, shooting rays of pleasure down your spine. As he moved his mouth to your second tit, he gripped harshly onto your hips. With his grasp, he expertly titled your pelvis in such a way where your cunt was pressed directly against the dryer; causing moans to spill from your mouth from the vibration.

As he helped you roll your hips against the warm metal, he struggled to keep his composure as he heard you moan for himfor the first time. Just like last night, they were soft and breathy, as if you didn’t even notice them falling from your lips. But his ears caught every single one, and they drove him crazier each time. Looking down to where your body connected with the machine, his vision grew blurry as he noticed the fluid that had accumulated on top of the dryer; the same fluid that he had heard last night. “Mmm, so wet already?” He managed to purr in your ear, causing you to shudder in pleasure.

You nodded, letting your head fall back as the pleasure intensified by his words. “F-for you Matt— fuck! — all f-for you.” At your words, Matt stopped all of his movements, afraid that he would fall apart in seconds if you kept speaking like that. Looking up at your disoriented face, he noticed that the loss of friction was making you antsy. You hooked a small finger in his chain and pulled his lips to yours; kissing him deeply as his tongue swiped against your teeth begging for entrance. You pulled away, needing more than a kiss, and watched in awe as Matt read your mind and dropped to his knees in front of you. He brought his hands up to your hips where he grabbed onto the sides of your thong, slowly sliding it down your legs.

You watched, chest heaving, as he tossed your discarded thong into his pile of laundry that still needed to be washed without letting his eyes leave your dripping core. His eyes on you like this was exactly what you imagined as you thought of him last night, and the neediness in his blue eyes threw you into an erotic frenzy. He grabbed both of your legs and, after stroking them thoughtlessly for a few seconds, placed them on both of his shoulders. Eyes flittering between your core and your face, he spoke, “Need a taste.” His voice was gruff with arousal, and you responded by lacing your hands through his hair and pushing his beautiful face in between your legs.

As soon as his tongue ran up your slit to collect your arousal, he lost any hint of sanity that he still had. You were so sweet against his tastebuds, and so soft against his lips, it took everything out of him to not cream his pants. Instead, he effortlessly found your aching clit and began sucking and kissing the sensitive bundle of nerves. Already stimulated by the dryer, you felt yourself melt under the pressure of his tongue. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning against you, causing the vibration to echo through your entire body. You mindlessly began grinding yourself against his face, chasing a high so intense that nothing else seemed to matter.

Matt relished in the feeling of suffocating by you, and used his hands to spread you apart. He pulled away for a brief moment to take a look at you stretched open for him, and the sight of your dripping hole — begging, without words, to be filled — made him want to pull his cock out and slam it into you immediately. But no, he was going to savour this. So instead, he spit onto your cunt and began tongue fucking your hole. As he eagerly drank up all your juices, his tongue moving in and out of you quickly, you lost the ability to stifle your moans.

Even though he knew you were getting too loud — after all, Nick and Chris were somewhere in the house — Matt couldn’t get himself to shut you up. The sounds that fell from your lips were like music to his ears, and he wanted to listen to them forever. Besides, how could he tell you that you were being too loud when he was making all sorts of erotic noises with his mouth against your cunt?

Your head fell back against the dryer, it wouldn’t be long until you came. The build up was so intense, so good, that you almost didn’t want it to end. Plus, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Matt’s poor cock, suffocating in his pants. As you imagined it, veiny and dark red at the tip, your mouth began to water. After coming back from the washroom and getting back on the couch last night, you glanced at Matt’s still frame and wondered if — even subconsciously, if he hadbeen sleeping — his body had reacted to what had happened. Your suspicion was furthered the next morning. When you went to wake him up to ask if he could drive you home, the blanket had slipped off of his lower body and exposed the imprint of his hardened cock; and your mouth watered. Since then, you had fantasized about taking all of him in your mouth as an apology for not helping him out that morning.

These thoughts raced through your bleary mind, and the pressure continued to increase in your lower stomach at Matt’s relentless tongue in between your legs. You wanted to cum, badly, but even more than that you wanted to get a taste of him. Just the thought of his warm cock in your throat caused your back to arch and a moan to slip from your lips, so in a frenzy you grabbed his jaw and pulled his mouth from your core. Cool air quickly replaced his warm tongue, and you cringed at the loss of contact. Matt looked up at you, his eyes hooded in contentment and his lips and chin coated with your arousal. “What’s wrong?” He asked, taking in your expression.

Without saying anything, you turned your body so that you were now facing the wall behind the dryer. Carefully, you lowered your torso so that you were now laying against the machine, legs bent and facing away from Matt; your view now being his frame upside down. Confused, Matt took a few steps back so that he could look at your face. You lock eyes with him, and he chuckles softly. “What are you doing?” His voice is still deeper than usual, and your view of his bulge makes it clear that he is in desperate need of you. “Want you to fuck my throat.” You replied simply, watching as his eyes darken in arousal while his eyebrows knit together in relief.

Without hesitation, Matt begins frantically removing his grey sweatpants. His cock has been achingly hard since last night with little to no relief, and your words shot straight to it. The filthy talk falling from your lips was still so foreign to him, but that unfamiliarity was addicting. He pulled his boxers down and finally freed his cock from its restraint, and even the feeling of it slapping his stomach on release was enough to make him shudder in pleasure.

As soon as your eyes fell to his exposed cock, your mouth watered. It was so perfect, so plump, you couldn’t wait to wrap your lips around it. As he took a step forward, you impatiently opened your mouth wide; not wanting to wait another second. Luckily, the feeling was mutual, and after tapping your mouth with his cock twice, he slides just the tip in. Already, the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him causes him to see stars, and he doesn’t even move for a few moments as you swirl your tongue around his tip. You find the bead of pre-cum dripping from his slit, and lap it up indulgently.

You want more of him, so in a desperate act you begin trying to bob your head while upside down in order to travel down his shaft. Your desperation gets to Matt, and, recognizing that you want more of him, he begins thrusting his hips slowly into your mouth. Even with only half of him in your mouth, you can feel his tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, and all it does is make you want more. You wrap your lips as tightly as you can around his girth, and the hushed groans that fall from his lips tell you that he’s enjoying himself.

You begin to grow frustrated, not content with the fact that you haven’t had all of him in your mouth yet. So you reach up and grab firmly on his hips, opening your throat to allow his entire length access as you pushed him forward. Matt hissed, overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock sinking deeper into your throat, and that was when he lost all control.

Matt grabbed onto the sides of your neck to brace himself before finally driving his cock all the way down your throat. He started slow, sliding it all the way down, holding it in place for a moment, and then pulling it nearly all the way out before doing it all over again; but once he realized that not only could you take all of him, but that you also enjoyed it, he started picking up the pace. He watched your throat as he fucked it, and noticed that he could actually see his cock going all the way down it; causing his vision to go blurry. “Fuck, baby.” He moaned out, his voice shaky as he struggled to not lose himself.

You were in heaven, the feeling of his cock filling your throat caused your body to flood with heat, and you couldn’t stop your hand from finding your clit and rubbing it in rhythm with Matt’s thrusts. Noticing your hand, Matt quickly swatted it away before replacing it with his own; the softness of your wet cunt enough to cause his cock to twitch; threatening to shoot his seed down your throat. But he didn’t want to cum; not until he felt all of you.

In the blink of an eye, he pulled his dripping cock out of your throat; causing you to gasp for air. Before you had the chance to question anything, he grabbed you under your arms and pulled you off of the dryer before slamming you against the wall in the hallway. The wind was knocked out of you, but Matt didn’t give you a minute to recover before lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist; keeping you pressed to the wall. His mouth found yours again, and the taste of you on his explorative tongue was enticing. With his mouth still on yours, the tip of Matt’s cock practically finds your opening itself, and it was so hard he didn’t even have to stabilize it with his hand before it slipped into you; stretching your walls and filling you up completely.

As soon as he bottomed out, he released a deep, guttural moan that echoed in your ears. Fighting a moan of your own, you grabbed the back of his neck. “Shh!” You whispered, looking into his eyes through droopy eyelashes. He snapped his cock into you. “You didn’t seem too concerned with staying quiet last night.” Matt’s words were strained as he tried to control his thrusts. Still looking at him in the eyes, a sinister smile crosses your face at him actually wanting to talk about last night for the first time.

He picked up on the reasoning behind your smile, and he snapped his hips again; causing you to yelp. “So you did want me to hear, hmm?” His head moved to the crook of your neck, and his lips against your ear caused goosebumps to raise on your skin. As he thrusted into you, all you could do was nod. “Do you know — ah fuck — do you know how bad my cock has been aching for you all day?” His words caused the pressure in your stomach to triple, and the thought of him being desperate to be inside of you caused your back to arch against the wall.

“M-made me feel like a creep all day, and for what? Hmm?” Matt grabbed your jaw and made you face him. He continued driving himself into you as he stared lustfully at your face. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip and you opened your mouth; letting his thumb fall in before wrapping your lips around it and sucking innocently. “Fuck baby,” He grumbled, watching your lips as your tongue swirled around his thumb. “Tell me.” His eyes were pleading with you, and you knew he was close, but he wasn’t gonna cum until you told him the truth. “W-wanted you to k-know what it’s l-like — fucking me. Wanted y-your cock h-hard for me.” You managed to tell him the truth. “Jesus Christ.” Matt moaned out in response, grabbing the base of your hair before slamming his cock in and out of you faster than he had before. Each time his cock hit your g-spot, your head slammed against the wall behind you; adding a new intensity to the fast-approaching orgasm you were feeling.

“Shit, gonna cum. Where do you want me?” His voice was ragged, as was his pace, and the desperation laced throughout the sloppiness drew you even closer to the edge. “As deep as you can get Matty.” You whispered in his ear just before you were overtaken by your own orgasm. As he continued to thrust into you, you felt your walls convulse around his girth. Your legs wrapped even tighter around his waist, toes curling as the waves of your orgasm crashed around you.

As you were still in the middle of cumming all over him, Matt suddenly snapped his cock hard and deep into you; spilling his seed deep in your guts, just like you asked, as a deep ragged moan fell from his mouth. Your hungry cunt milked his dick dry, and the intensity of filling you up with the nut that had been debilitating him all day was like no other orgasm he had ever experienced.

You could feel his cock twitch repeatedly as he filled your insides with his hot white cum, and his soft moans of pure relief in your ear were as continuous as your own as you both fell into a deep trance. As you both came down from your highs, Matt held you against the wall; brushing his fingertips softly against the skin on your upper thigh. You had never had sex so satisfying, so deliciously exhausting, and you were in such a haze that you could have easily fallen asleep right there, pressed against the wall.

But after a few moments, Matt carefully slid his shaft out of you and helped you to your feet. He took a moment to admire you, fixing your hair and pulling down your dress, before leading you to his washroom. “You’re a little psycho, you know that right?” He asked jokingly as he started the shower. You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection; evidence of Matt’s touch all over you. You smiled at him as he helped you take off your dress. “I’m sorry.” You replied, to which he rolled his eyes. “No you’re not. But do me a favour, next time you want me to fuck you, just tell me, alright?”

Your stomach did an excited flip from his unexpected words, and you walked into the shower on shaky legs. Turning around to face him standing by the washroom door, you found him staring indulgently at your naked frame. You put your hands on your hips and huffed dramatically. “Okay, get in here. I want you to fuck me.”

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[lnlightning81]

Heat Stroke

Summary : Franco's thrown in at the deep end of the Singapore Grand Prix but you're there to look after him

Pairing/s: Franco Colapinto x Reader

Word Count : 1.1k

Warning/s: W*lliams Hate

Masterlist Driver Masterlist Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

You personally thought throwing Franco into the Singapore Grand Prix with limited heat training was a bit crazy knowing that you’d been preparing since the last Singapore Grand Prix, along with most drivers. 

The race could be brutal, and anyone who’d raced there before would know that, however, the head guys at Wililams didn’t care. You had warned Franco about it, but you knew that if it wasn’t Franco that replaced Logan, then it would be some other poor innocent guy. 

You remember when the news broke that Franco was about to become an F1 driver and you couldn’t be more mad about how it happened. 

Franco had told you to meet him in Argentina. He was going to arrive a day later than you were, and you were fine with it. You’d met his family before, and they were more than welcoming. 

Sat in their family house that evening, you had just been talking with his parents, who were more than happy to not only have you there but to include you in their family activities. Your phone was discarded in Franco’s childhood bedroom as you sat downstairs. 

It wasn’t until there was loud cheering from outside the family house you and his parents decided to get up and look outside. The street was full of people holding either handmade Franco signs or ones that they had bought previously. 

You turned to his parents confused just to see them looking just as confused. Quickly running up the stairs to grab your phone to see not only the F1 drivers group chat but all your other messages blowing up. 

It killed you. Logan was one of your closest friends, and Franco was your boyfriend. How were you meant to deal with this? 

It turned out it was easier to deal with. Logan seemed okay but annoyed he wasn’t able to show his full potential because his car never had the upgrades, and his confidence was lost. Logan had plans for after F1, knowing that no matter what, he was leaving at some point in the 2024 season. Starting off by test driving for indy, then hopefully driving for them at some point. 

But now, after the Singapore Grand Prix, you were standing in the media tent watching Franco speak to the interviewers. You’d seen him straight after the Grand Prix when he could hardly stand getting out of the car. It was a gruelling race for everyone. 

In between interviews yourself, you couldn’t help but watch him. His normal flirty attitude wasn’t there, and you could see in his face that he was in pain. The cold towel around his neck no longer doing anything to cool his body down. He needed to be in the medical tent, but the FIA clearly didn’t care. 

You couldn’t help yourself but walk over despite your own media manager's complaints about walking away from him. You didn’t care, though. You also didn’t care that you were about to expose your relationship with the newest Rookie. 

Taking your own towel from around your neck and placing it around his neck, taking his now warm one away. Your trainer had swapped your towels over, knowing that when your body was too hot, cooling it down was near impossible for him. 

Franco’s head turned, giving you a small smile, and you couldn’t help but reach up and wipe some sweat from his forehead with his towel 

“You need to go to medical” You whispered 

“No no estoy bien” You shook your head, taking his hand in your own 

“Please or I’ll get your mama involved” You raised an eyebrow, and he nodded, taking a drink of water “Thank you” You hummed, walking away back to your media manager, who raised his eyebrows at the work you just created for him 

“Honestly, how simple my life would be without you” He shook his head, and you smiled innocently, moving onto your next interview. 

Getting back to your hotel room, you went to check on Franco after dumping all your stuff in your own room. Knocking on the door, you heard a loud groan followed by shuffling and a couple bangs. You winced at the sounds before Franco finally opened the door, leaning against it. 

Sweat still dripped from his head, and he looked paler than in the media tent, earning a sigh from you. 

“Come on you” You sighed, ushering him back inside of the room. Franco sat on the bed in front of the fans he had going on in nothing but boxers as you walked towards his bathroom. Turning his shower on to cold before walking back to get him. 

Wrapping your arm around his waist as he walked to the bathroom and into the shower with you. You stepped in with him, still in team gear, knowing that it was the only way to get him in without an argument. 

“Lo siento” He whispered as you pushed some wet strands of hair out his face 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. This is definitely not your fault. This is your team's fault for not even sending your trainer here to look after you” You shook your head sitting him on the floor of the shower so you could step out for a moment. 

Texting your own trainer to bring some electrolytes and whatever else he recommended to Franco's room, knowing that at least your own team cared about their drivers and how the heat affects them. 

Going into Franco’s room to make it more comfortable for them knowing exactly what he was feeling right now because it was you last year. Helping Franco out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist before walking through to the bedroom, laying him down as there was a knock on the door. 

You walked over to it, smiling a little at your trainer. Letting him inside to help. 

“Go get yourself changed, Y/N. I know it’s warm, but walking about in wet clothes isn’t going to make you any better either” You nodded, stealing some clothes from Franco’s suitcase and getting changed in the bathroom. Walking back out once you were changed. 

Your trainer, Josh, handed you your water bottle full of electrolytes as he sat on the chair. 

“That stupid team needs to be sued” Josh muttered, and you could only nod in agreement as you played with Franco’s hair sitting next to him. Drinking your water at the same time. 

What idiot of a team decides to throw someone into a death trap of a race and then not provide support afterwards.

“Thank you for coming. I know your wife’s here” You smiled over to Josh, who shrugged 

“I get paid for being here, and she’s asleep” He chuckled, and you couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even Franco managed a little chuckle. Pressing a kiss to Franco’s head.

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x Afab!reader

PART FIVE

NSFW

Well! Five parts later and here is your bee-smut! There will be other parts to this, and part six will probably be up by later tonight, since I'm on a roll rn. tw: breasts WILL be mentioned lol

When Rena finally stopped flying, you were outside of a large structure. You’d always imagined the hive itself as a sort of large cartoon beehive, but instead found something that looked more like a gymnasium. The outside coating looked almost like a gray paper mache, no sharp edges in sight. The “building” stood four stories tall and seemed to form itself around the impossibly tall trees of the ancient wood. It stretched impossibly wide, and you couldn’t tell quite how long the building stretched on.

There were several guard bees at the entrance. You recognized one of them as a bee-men you had met at the music festival. They saw you and Rena and immediately moved aside, Rena pushing you through the door. She eventually grabbed your hand and started to guide you through what seemed like tunnels.

The ceiling shone with a faint light, much like the inside of the shed you had visited once. You weren’t able to do much. You were out of breath from your running when you eventually made it to a large room with a high ceiling. You could see about thirty bee-men, scattered around this way and that. Many of them met your eyes, looks of pity, and despair settling in the ridges between their eyebrows and noses. You kept on, until Rena brought you through another tunnel, passing room after room. Finally, it seemed you had made it to where you were supposed to be and you saw a figure slumped down in a small alcove in the wall. You’d recognize these those wings anywhere.

“Lyith!” You yelled, running to his side. You turned him over, and you were taken with a strange forbidden feeling  pulsing its way into your head. It was like a current was pushing at the dam of your mind, waiting to break. Lyiths usual, lemon-grapefruit sent had turned sour, like he was rotting. He was pulling in breath after breath, like his lungs couldn’t hold onto any of it. His limbs shook and twitched. He didn’t seem to be aware of anything going on in the room.

“He smells like decaying magic. Whats going on Rena.” You knew what she would say, but refused to believe it.”

“Lyith can’t handle his own mana right now. It's not compatible with his body anymore.” Rena’s eyes were filled with tears.

“But that only happens when you guys are starved for magic right? Haven told me! You guys have been able to get more magic from my honey, why is he…” Your face was hot and your mouth was dry.

“He was very weak before he started getting nutrients. His body didn’t build strength quick enough to adjust to the influx of energy..”

“But you guys were descended from gods right? You're like demigods! Can’t you heal him?”

“The problem isn’t his physical body, it’s his magical one. The structure around his magic is too weak. Listen, Little One, there is still something we can do. You can do.”

Leith let out a gargling buzz. It sounded almost like he was choking.

“You can use your magic. I don’t know how it works, but your mana is very compatible with ours.” She took your hands and pulled them around Lyiths, pressing down firmly.

“There are two forms of magic when it comes to us. Our own magic, and our hives. His magic can’t handle the hives so its burning itself up trying to keep up. If you use your magic and join it to his for a while, you might be able to give him enough strength to endure for a time. But if you do this wrong, and add your magic to that of the hive…”

“It’ll overwhelm him. I’d kill him.”

“He’s already dying, (y/n).” This was the first time Rena had ever called you by name.

You stared out at Lyith’s face, wincing at how he was contorting in pain. It was just like Haven had described. His magic was burning him up.

You didn’t know if this would work, but you had to try. You carefully shook yourself from Rena’s grip, placing your hands onto Lyith’s cheeks. You concentrated on the feeling of magic. Immediately, your vision went starry. You were overwhelmed with white pulsing hot magic. It overtook all of your senses. It took everything you had to mentally claw and pull yourself up enough to be, let alone see. There was so much there. You immediately recognized the feeling of Rena’s mind, then Haven’s then that of so many others who had shared their feelings with you overtimes. You could feel their astonishment. The horror, the joy, the disturbed and the hopeful. You had to pull yourself out of it. This feeling must be the magic of the hive that Rena had been talking about.

You reached your awareness out further, concentrating on Lyith, but it was so hard to find him over the rushing current of magic. You eventually found his pain first, and followed it back to a racing, burning hot feeling. You grasped onto it with all of your might. You reached around and tried to feel out where Lyith began and the rest of the hive began, but it took time. Too much time.

You eventually grasped him, using your magic to form a barrier around his consciousness and the magic that surrounded him. There was no physical realm in your eyes, just magic, and you slowly started to piece your own mana out to his, watching it trickle around him. You could see it then, the structures, the geometry that made him up, like he was a log cabin and his wooden beams were burning. 

Yes! That was it! You saw it now. 

Slowly, you pushed your magic into his structure, fortifying it, adding layers of concrete to his wood. That little pool of energy inside you became a well, and you added it to the weakest parts of the house. A wall had already collapsed so you concentrated on building that up again, using the ash that had already been burnt. The fire, the fire burning the house was trying to consume you too, it hurt, almost forcing your mind back into your body. 

“Little witch please be careful.” Lyith whispered in your ear. But you didn’t have a body, you were a well. The voice had been weak. Too weak. You needed to heal him, build him up again. You continued to work, fueled by your desperate need not to see him die. You gave your magic over to him, and suddenly he wasn’t a house anymore but a garden. LIke your garden! You could feel him completely around you. His breath was your wind, his body the soil.

But his garden was decayed. His flowers were wilted, the stalks browning. You couldn’t leave him like that. Not your Lyith.

“Slow down.” You heard him hiss, from somewhere you couldn’t quite see. A part of you was happy, he was finally awake somewhat. But you were not done yet, you needed to heal him. You took that pool of energy that was inside of yourself and got to work. It was easy, you had done this so often, building up the flowers and letting them grow. Letting them heal.

It felt good. A warm excitement filled your consciousness, urging you on. There was no pain here. Usually when you expel your magic it weakened you. But this. This felt good. Like that ease in your muscles after a good walk.

You continued to build up the garden. You could feel Lyith everywhere. He could feel his strength returning as you worked. The burning fire had turned to a warm summer heat, perfect for growing. 

“You know not what you do little one, I am well, you have to--” He let out a moan. Something within you stirred. He had told you to stop but you could feel him. Feel his mind and his truth. He didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you to stop. You pushed your mind further against him, like a cat rubbing their head against their owner. There was a building of the summer heat coursing through him, through you, and you wanted more. 

You pushed at him, mushed your magic into his garden, totally invading his senses. All you wanted him to think about was you, feel you. And he did. The more magic you channeled into him, the more the excitement built, searing hot pleasure flooding all of your senses. You weren’t sure if it was his or yours. You wanted more. You pushed against him again. You didn’t stop, all you felt was pleasure mounting. Hot needy pleasure. The garden you had made was healed now. His magic was sturdy, strong, healthy. You had done it! You had healed him, and you were together and--

The pulsating, beating heat crescendoed and you cried out, he cried out, and then all you felt and all you two were was ecstasy. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you rode out your high. It was amazing, delicious and your body ached. Your body.. Slowly, your senses came back to you. You had a body. You could feel it now. Toes and fingers and eyes. You could see. And what you saw was Lyith under you, his beautiful eyes glazed over, drool trailing out of his mouth. His skin was hot under your fingertips. During your work you had straddled him. Your underwear was warm, wet, and you could feel a bulge pushing up against your clothed entrance. Your awareness finally pulled away from his and your mind was your own again.

Except it wasn’t wasn’t exactly yours anymore. You felt the ghost of a bond in the back of your head. A bond that trailed back to Lyith. You had done something that couldn’t be undone.

You felt Lyiths large sturdy hands squeeze your thighs. Affection and and loud, resilient devotion. You could taste it on the air, as you focused on it, it overwhelmed all your senses.

“My Queen. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” He breathed out, his voice still ragged.

Queen?

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You pulled back, pushing your body off of Lyith and against the wall of the cot. Your tired, sore body was weakening, as the realization of what you had just done crashed upon you.

“I… I only meant to heal you.”

Lyith looked at you with soft eyes, before pulling himself up to face you.

“And you did. You did it perfectly. But it worked a little too well. You shouldn’t have been able to do that. Not like this.” He reached forward and cradled your hands.

“But it happened.” He pulled your hands to cup his cheeks. He stared at you, his expression complicated. You knew if you pulled on the bond it would all be open to you, every little complicated emotion. There was a tickle in your mind. He wanted you to feel how he felt.

There was sadness, for causing you pain. Ache and relief, to finally have you, pride, to be able to call you his, and for you to call him yours. Bewilderment, that your power was such that you could ensnare him in such a way, and curiosity of how the two of you would maneuver through this. And there was an instinctual part, buzzing and excited to finally have a queen to serve, to breed-”

Okay that was probably a little too far! You pulled back enough for a bit of embarrassment to pass across his face. But he held your gaze. He had shown you all of his truth and you loved him for it. 

“Well, this has been a really wild afternoon.” Rena said, loud enough to break up your scene.

The horror of realizing Rena had just witnessed everything and probably felt it too, made you choke on the air in your throat. Your already hot face charged up to a solar flare.

She was sitting down, leaning against the wall. A feral smirk on her face, both pairs of arms crossed around her chest. One finger was slowly, meaningfully tapping against her arm.

“Well, um-- you see-- it was an accident!” You sputtered, pulling away from Lyiths grasp to the end of the bed. You didn’t look at Lyith, only tried to explain the words of what happened but not finding them.

Rena suddenly stood up, her stance strong as she purposefully stalked towards your end of the bed. Her gaze was burning, a hungry smile on her face as she leaned down, and tilted your chin up with a black finger.

“Little One, only Queens can bond to a Bee-men like that. For a Human, we would have to spend weeks prepping you before you could even manage to attempt what you have done.”

She moved forward, putting both of her knees outside of yours, leaning over you with a fire in her eyes.

“I knew there was something different about you. I want to know what, and I want you to do that again.” Her bottom set of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush to her. Her other hand gripped your shoulder.

Your heart was roaring now, and you looked to Lyith for help. He was watching with amusement, leaning back against the headboard wall of the cot. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in his features or his mind.  Whatever was going on, he was definitely down for it. 

You swallowed thickly.

“C-can’t we t-take a moment to think this over?” 

She ignored you, her gaze straying to your lips. The hands at your waist started to roam, gently moving up and down, one wandered to the hem of your shirt, the other cupping the curve of your ass and rubbing through the fabric.

You tried not to let your arousal show, starting to tremble under her ministrations, as she watched you with her triumphant, molten gaze.

“Lyith may have been yours first, but I won’t let him have you to himself.” She leaned forward and gently bit down on the curve of your ear. Your breath hitched and you had to keep yourself from mewling.

 “I’m yours too, you know?” She said this part gently, an earnestness made its way into your mind. It felt like how she smelled and you leaned into it. 

If you were truly a Queen now, there was no going back. Things had changed since you had bonded with Lyith. Rena was someone you treasured too. She was arrogant and sweet, and she had always been kind in the ways that mattered.

Well. What was one more anyway? You thought, closing your eyes and leaning your body into Rena’s. She let out a triumphant trill, Then slowly started dragging her impossibly long textured tongue up your neck. 

“I’m going to show you how we normally prepare a human queen.” She purred. Her arms moved to pull up your shirt as you felt the cot move under you. Lyith had moved from his spot from the end of the bed, and had situated himself behind you, his own arms curling around your hips, playing with the edges of your pants.

“While this looks very fun, I’m not the type to just sit and watch.” He sang out in a low voice. Rena huffed and rolled her eyes. But she continued to undress you, long fingers hitching around your bra and freeing your breasts. She leaned back and looked at them, purring the whole time.

Well. It looked like you were in for a long night.

Part Six (Beware NSFW)

[jisungchan]

60 minutes | njm

or, where your return to your favourite masseuse

⚔︎ warnings: masseuse!jaemin x collegestudent!reader, afab! reader, hella petnames from jaem, softdom!jaemin, fingering (f!receiving), NO race specific descriptors (skin colour, hair texture, etc.), 69, swallowing, face sitting, blowjob, f! and m! receiving oral, NO body type specific descriptors (size of reader body parts, height, weight, etc.), no piv... jaem does whip his dick out though this time !!!... if i missed anything lmk!

word count: ~2k

a/n: i listened to sticker while writing the smut part LOL 

it had been only 2 weeks since you last got your first massage, yet it seemed like it was both an eternity ago and just yesterday. you sat on your bed, staring at the time; you only had an hour until your appointment with him. 

when you left the parlour that day, your friend instantly attacked you with dozens of questions, none necessarily suggestive, but more so curious as to just how good of a masseuse you got lucky with to leave you a flustered mess in the passenger seat of her car. 

you didn’t tell her anything, you weren’t ready for the other onslaught of questioning that would arise out of her finding out you had a bit more than just a massage. 

the truth is, she kind of killed two birds with one stone with the last appointment. while it was true school was having you stressed out (more than usual), you were also dealing with a terrible case of sexual frustration as well. all the guys on campus are well… bad, to put it kindly. most of them just hook up to get themselves off, and the others are either celibate or already in a relationship. you wanted no parts in any of the different types of men who roamed the college town. 

it’s like ever since you had your little, appointment, with jaemin, he’s been in your sights. you never recalled ever seeing him before, yet now all of the sudden, he is everywhere on your campus. the first time you saw him, you were walking through the quad with a few of your friends, when he and his group of friends passed by. too involved, you didn’t even notice him smiling at you, until he cleared his throat, called your name, and walked directly up to you and lifted your chin to make eye contact with his soft palm. speechless, you looked up, confused. since when did he go here?

the second time you saw him, you were studying by yourself in the library, nursing your cup of coffee and attempting to read the chapters your professor assigned. suddenly, you heard the chair across from you drag across the tiled floor. looking up once again, you were met with a smiling jaemin plopping his bag on the next chair and placing his laptop on the table. small talk was made, and you both went on to study wordlessly for the next few hours. 

the next time you'll see him, will be in that same massage room as before.

walking in, by yourself this time, you were even more nervous than before. you know what you’re expecting, but what if you’re wrong for expecting anything more than a massage? you don’t want him to think you see him as a sex worker of sorts. your head was a mess and you spoke to the same receptionist and she walked you back to the room. the same room with the faint peach smell and music lulling in the back. again, you took off your clothes, still opting to keep your underwear and bra on for some modesty, and waited in the robe for your god-send of a masseuse to come in. hearing the door open, you peep your head up from its low position of watching your hands pick at your nails. he had that same smile as alway, and walked over to greet you with a kiss on your cheek. 

he untied your robe, this time with no regard for your shyness. i mean, his hand had quite literally been in your mouth and pu–

“i’ve been waiting to see your name on my schedule again princess, what took you so long?” he leads you to the table, not even placing a towel on your lower half. 

you press your head into the opening in the table, muttering out an excuse of an answer. how were you supposed to tell him you were a wreck thinking about coming again? let alone seeing him again? 

just as before, he works on your back, opting to pour oil right on your back, causing you to hiss and lift your hips at the cool sensation leaking all over your body. 

it feels like an eternity has passed once he finally ushers you to flip over. you are now met with his face for the first time since the massage started. little words were spoken before, but now jaemin wants to be more vocal, more bold. 

“do you remember what i told you last time, darling?” 

well, many things were said last time, but he quickly stops your thought process with him guiding your hand to his aching dick. 

“i said i didn’t get your throat good enough, how about we fix that now?” he smirks as you quickly sit up, your legs parted as he stands between them. 

he pulls at your wrists for you to stand, and he sits in the waiting chair at the corner of the room, pulling at you to follow him. he grabs the pillow and places it on the floor in front of him. 

“what are you waiting for? kneel.” he commands, he still has a demanding presence as he glares up at you. you make quick work to get on your knees, kneeling on the soft cushion underneath. you place your hands on the insides of his thighs as he manspreads in front of you. his look is literally laid back, as he has his pelvis front and centre as he lazily leans back into the chair. you wander up to the waistband of his grey sweats, noticing how they do nothing to hide his imprint. it dawns on you, this will be the first time you have actually seen his dick, and it’s going to be right in front of your face, begging to be dealt with. 

you push down his boxers and sweats in one go, causing them to pool at his ankles. his dick pops up and slaps against his shirt, staining it with some of the precum seeping from his tip. it’s a bit slender, but it is long. veins go up and down his shaft and you can only imagine the texture of them going in and out of you. you feel yourself starting to drool at the thought, and jaemin takes it in his hand and slaps your cheek with it.  

“already drooling over my cock? you haven’t even felt it yet, pretty.” he smirks as he taps it against your slightly ajar mouth. finally, you place your own hands on it, giving it a few pumps before bringing it up to your mouth and slipping the tip in. his precum is salty, but not too bitter. you hollow your cheeks as you take more and more in until you can’t fit anymore. 

you push your thighs together as you get to work on sucking him off. taking your tongue and pressing it on the underside of his shaft. you bob your head up and down and up and down as you pump the rest in your hand. the mix of your saliva and his leaky tip makes it easy for you to guide him in your body smoothly. you let it go with a loud pop! and prod at his tip’s slit with your tongue, making a deep groan come from his mouth. you take one of your hands to lift his shirt up, wanting to see his abdomen rise and fall rapidly with your movements. he sees your attempt, and throws his shirt over his head to allow you to bask in his body. you push your thighs even further together and start shifting them together, desperate for any friction. 

you place him back in your open mouth, this time determined to take all of him. you press your face further and further and further until your nose is met with his neatly trimmed pubic hair. your eye level with his v-line, and you feel yourself dripping onto the cushion beneath you. he moans as he takes your hair in his hand, holding you down as you force yourself to breathe through your nose. meanwhile, you take your hand to cup the rest of him drooping heavily below, massaging as you feel tears in the corners of your eyes. he finally lessens his grip to allow you to continue. 

however, that doesn’t last long as he yanks your body back up. 

“you don’t think i didn’t notice you rubbing those pretty little plush thighs together? what kind of man would i be if i only got myself off? ”with that said, he brings you back to the table, this time laying on it himself face up.

“don’t be shy, sit on my face baby.” 

shakily, you climb on top of him, and he pulls your underwear up to press against your core. you whine at the feeling and brace your hands on his calves, facing his still painfully hard erection. you feel his nose prodding at your hole through your thin, poorly drenched underwear before he moves them aside and pulls down your hips to be directly on his lips. 

you feel as he starts to eat you out like a madman. his tongue is flat against your slit, covering every area and leaving none to be discovered. his grip on your hips is deathly as he forces you even deeper into his face. after a few moments of gathering your strength, you grab his dick again and continue with your past antics. you’ve never done this position with anyone, and you’re wondering why the hell not?

you’re trying your best to take him in again, but the way he’s fucking you open with his tongue has you seeing stars and glitching. the way his tongue rolls over your clit has you moaning around his cock, especially when he presses his fingers into your lonely hole. intent on making him feel just as good as you were, you force your head back all the way down to fully engulf him in your mouth. and when you feel the vibrations of his moans, you almost came on the spot. you start grinding helplessly on his face, loving everything he’s giving you. 

“it tastes so much better from the source, i could stay here all day.” he whispers against your pussy, and it seemed like he was talking to her more than you. 

once you start playing with his heavy balls, waiting to be emptied into your warm, wet, mouth, he starts twitching in your mouth. he stops eating you out to let out some of the most beautiful moans you have ever heard. he curses out with your name and you know he’s close. you bring your nose to his base and lick him all over with your tongue, pushing him to unload down your throat. it doesn’t take much longer for him to spurt out his sticky smooth cum into your mouth. you take him out again and slap it against your tongue, urging him to give it all to you. and once he does, you sit up as he turns you around on his face.

now, looking down on him, he truly looks like a madman. hair messy and your slick covering the entire lower half of his face. he forces your hips down again, this time hooking either arm around them to keep you from getting up. you feel as his nose bumps your clit every time he presses his tongue in and of your seeping hole. you bring your hands to his hair, needing anything to ground you from the insane man between your thighs. 

it only took another good look at his face, his eyes closed in heaven devouring you, for you to come undone. you gripped his hair tightly, this time it was you pushing your hips down onto his face, and he gratefully took every last bit. easing up, you scooted back to sit on his stomach, and he sat up on his elbows, admiring you in both yours and his post-orgasm bliss. he licked his mouth clean as he took your face in his hands to kiss you. ironically, this was the first time you’ve felt his lips on yours. and they are even softer and more plush than they look. pulling away with a string of saliva connecting you, 

“next time, we won’t be in this room.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hate You (Kidding)

Crowley & daughter!reader, Sam and Dean & witch!reader, a little Rowena & granddaughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: your dad abandoned you years ago, but what happens when he finds out you’re still alive?

A/N: just so no one gets confused about this, here’s the background—Crowley found out how powerful demon/human babies can be, so he tried to make one, only it didn’t go the way he planned—the baby (you) were born without powers, and so he abandoned you. (Just because I didn’t want to give this the exact same backstory as Crowley’s son)

The theft was not going well. Your grandmother had made it seem so easy—sneak into the bunker, grab the black spell book, and make it out fast.

She failed to mention the two professional hunters that lived there.

You hadn’t been dumb enough to assume it would be empty—there had to be a reason Rowena wasn’t going herself, after all; she was scared. But you weren’t ready for Sam and Dean Winchester.

They had you in their dungeon basement—which was super creepy—before you’d even managed to find the book, much less grab it.

“What were you looking for, kid? Who sent you here?” The shorter—but no less scary—one had his hands on the sides of your chair, and he was looming over you. You had no doubt that he was willing to hurt you—you did break into his very dangerous house, after all.

You kept quiet, still unsure what the best course of action was. If you told them about the book and Rowena, would they let you go and go after her?

Then again, you didn’t know anything about these guys—maybe once they got their information, they’d just kill you.

You decided to stay quiet.

“Hey!” Dean smacked his hand on the arm of your chair, and you flinched. “I said—“

The man stopped yelling when the lights went out. They flickered back on a moment later, only this time they were red.

“Someone’s here,” the tall one said.

“I’ll go check.” The man in front of you pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and turned to leave, saying to the tall one “watch her.”

Then it was just you and the giant—who, surprisingly, seemed a little less scary. He was definitely intimidating, but he also had a sort of “I don’t hurt children” vibe about him.

“This will all be easier if you tell us what you were after,” he broke the silence.

“Right, because you’ll have a reason to keep me alive after I tell you everything,” you scoffed.

“We won’t have a reason to kill you, either,” Sam countered.

“And you need one?” You questioned.

“What makes you think we’d just kill you for no reason?” He asked.

“I mean I did break into your house, and you are hunters.” You shrugged as best you could with your hands cuffed behind you.

“I’m Sam,” the man said, crouching down so he was more on your level—he was trying to look less intimidating, which surprised you. “That other guy is my brother Dean. We are hunters, but we’re not gonna just kill you for no reason. We’re not like that.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the door opening cut you off.

“Look who came for a visit.” Dean stepped into the room with a man trailing behind him. As soon as the man stepped into the light, every bit of air left your lungs.

“Didn’t know you had a visi—“ Crowley’s sentence froze halfway out of his mouth when he laid eyes on you.

Dean’s suspicious gaze picked up on the awkwardness instantly.

“You two know each other?”

Crowley gained his voice back first. “Used to. Not so much anymore.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.” You found the strength to speak after you heard Crowley’s words. “You still look just as pathetic to me, father.”

“Father?” Dean choked. “Wait, that’s not possible.”

“I thought you were dead.” Crowley was now completely ignoring the Winchesters. “After…after that incident I figured the demons would’ve—“

“Incident?!” You all but screamed. “Incident? Is that what you call you abandoning me? Leaving me for dead? An incident?”

“I had no choice,” Crowley argued. “When the other demons found out you were powerless—“

“The other demons? It wasn’t about the other demons, it was about you! You used my mother to make yourself a half demon, and when I didn’t turn out to have any powers you threw me away. You wanted your demon friends to kill me.”

“No.” Crowley was brushing past Sam and Dean now, coming to stand directly in front of you. You squirmed in your chair, but you couldn’t get further away from him. “No I didn’t. I thought if I got rid of you, they’d have no reason to kill you and—“

“Don’t lie to me!” You cried out. “I’m not stupid! You may not have wanted me dead, but you sure didn’t abandon me to try to save me. You did it because I was useless to you. Pretending otherwise is just…it’s just pathetic.”

Crowley opened his mouth to argue, but he had nothing to say—he knew you were right.

“So you’re half demon with no powers?” Dean cut in. “Because I’ve met a half demon who could do anything he wanted just by thinking it.”

“Why do you think he wanted to make me?” You forced your gaze away from your father to look at Dean. “He wanted an all powerful being that was also fully dependent on him. Too bad for him, not all half demons are the same, and he got stuck with the powerless one.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” Sam cut in.

You bit your lip. You should’ve known it would circle back to this.

“Look, we’re not gonna hurt you if you tell us,” Sam promised.

“Fine.” A sly smirk lifted onto your face as your eyes went back to your father. “I’m here to get a book. For my grandmother.”

Crowley was still choking on air while Sam and Dean shared a meaningful glance before turning back to you.

“Rowena? You’re working for the witch?” Dean’s reaction told you that he both knew Rowena and probably hated her.

“She’s the only reason I’m still alive,” you said. “When he—“ you were inclined your head towards Crowley “—left me behind to get killed by demons, she saved my life.”

“My mother knows you’re still alive and she never told me?” Crowley scoffed. “It’s just like her.”

“She didn’t tell you because I told her how much I hated you.” You glared at Crowley as you spoke. “She understood the feeling, and we had a mutual understanding. Anyway, she told me she would teach me to take out demons the way she can—“

“But let me guess—only if you steal a spell book from us and bring it to her,” Dean interrupted.

“She said it was the only way she’d be able to teach me,” you defended yourself.

“She lied,” Crowley butted in. “She always lies—she was using you to get that book.”

“Oh, right, because you’re so trustworthy,” you shot back. “Why should I trust you?”

“You don’t think it’s a little strange that the first thing she does with you is send you to a place where you could get hurt, just to get something for her?” Sam argued. “You don’t think that that’s using you?”

You were quiet for a moment, and when you spoke again it was more subdued.

“I didn’t have any other choice. There are still demons out there who want me dead, and I’m totally and completely helpless.”

“You don’t have to be,” Crowley said. “I can help you.”

“Rowena may not be a saint, but I already know I can’t trust you,” you snapped. “I’m not looking to get abandoned again.”

“She had to know you’d get caught.” Sam seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else. “So why…”

The Winchesters seemed to come to a conclusion at the same time, sharing a moment of telepathic connection before they turned and ran out the door.

“Do they do that a lot?” You wondered.

“You have no idea,” Crowley huffed. “I suppose I should find out what’s wrong.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” The sudden smirk on your face made Crowley nervous. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you fell for that whole ‘totally and completely helpless” thing.” As you spoke, Crowley saw a faint glow coming from your hands, which were still handcuffed behind you. After a moment, he heard a snapping sound, and suddenly both of your hands were free and you were standing up. “Do you really think Rowena sent me here with no knowledge of magic?”

With a single wave of your hand, you sent Crowley flying against the wall. He landed with a thud, and you stepped over his frame on your way out the door.

“See you soon, father.”

…

Rowena had escaped with the book by the time Sam and Dean got to the library—she had waited until everyone was in the dungeon to make her move—and by the time the boys got back to the dungeon, Crowley was on the floor and you were gone.

“Great,” Dean growled. “She tricked us. I hate witches!”

“For once,” Crowley groaned as he slowly sat up. “I agree with you.”

…

“The Winchesters.” Your nervous gaze met your grandmother’s as you watched her flip through the spell book. “It’s them, they caught up. What now?”

“We need to distract them long enough for me to get through this spell,” Rowena insisted. “I won’t even need the book anymore as long as I can get this spell done.”

“I’ll distract them.” You were halfway to the door when Rowena stopped you.

“No, you’re not strong enough, not like this.” The way your grandmother was staring you down made you nervous.

“Like this?” You asked.

The door blasting open after a swift kick from Dean Winchester seemed to make up Rowena’s mind.

“I’m sorry, dear girl, but it’s the only way,” she said. “Impetus be—“

“Not so fast, mother.” You father appeared out of nowhere just behind Rowena, and he snatched up the spell book she was holding and swung it at her—she went down without another word. “I’m the only one that gets to hurt my brat.”

You didn’t say anything—you were still shaking. “Impetus beastiarum”—that’s what Rowena had been trying to say. Your own grandmother was going to turn you into a rabid monster—and ultimately kill you—just so that she could get away.

“The book.” You flinched out of your daze when Sam Winchester brushed past you and held his hand out to your father.

“Of course, moose,” he answered. “What would I need with a witches book?” He passed it over without argument.

“Why did you save me?” You demanded, sidestepping the taller Winchester to get a good look at your father, who merely shrugged.

“I’m the only one that gets to kill you.”

…

The Winchesters, of course, wanted to grab you after the little incident, but you flung them against the wall with your powers—one of the few tricks your grandmother had managed to teach you, and currently your favorite—and left before they got the chance.

You didn’t see them or your father for several more months. When you saw Crowley again, you were running for your life.

Somehow word had gotten around that a great witch had a granddaughter; or maybe it was that the king of hell had a daughter—you didn’t know, and you didn’t care. All you knew was that an archangel was after you because of it, and you had tried to cut a deal with him.

It hadn’t worked.

Lucifer had wanted you because he thought you’d be useful, and when he found out you weren’t, he of course decided that killing you was proper punishment for wasting his time.

You were in the midst of running for your life when you saw your father.

He was chained to the floor like a dog, watching your exchange with the archangel with peaked interest.

“Conteram hoc cincinno,” you yelled as you ran—it worked, and the chains at Crowley’s wrists snapped; they were warded against demons, not witches.

The freeing of his prisoner was enough of a distraction to get Lucifer off your tail. By the time he remembered you, you were out the door, and when he tried to turn his attention back to Crowley, the demon had already teleported.

…

“What was that?”

You jumped in surprise when your father appeared next to you.

“An escape,” you huffed out.

“You saved me back there.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you demanded. Crowley just grinned at you.

“Maybe witches aren’t so bad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[lady-of-ocs]

Just finished Yuri!!! on Ice for the first time and dear god, why didn’t I watch this sooner? The animation for the skating is pure beauty and I adore each and every character (special shoutouts to Phichit, Christophe, and Yuri(o)!). Viktor and Yuuri’s romance was so, so good and I’m truly violent over the fact that I don’t get to see more of them (fanfics here I come!). I salute you long time fans because I’ve been here for three days and I would kill a man (/j for legal reasons) to get more content. Yuri Plisetsky my absolute LITTLE GUY. Imma squish him. He’s such a brat but he’s got a good heart and I love him. All the forehead kisses for Captain cranky cat ears. Bonus points for grandpa and his pirozhikis.

I started ice skating at about age five and skated almost weekly during skating season for years of my life. A childhood dream was to compete and one day go to the Olympics. This show hit me deep in my gut and I’m so happy and yet wounded by it. The pure adoration I have for this show (I literally binged the first 8 or 9 episodes in one sitting because I couldn’t put it down, and the only reason I didn’t finish the others was because I had to study for an exam or risk failure). It’s about ice skating and a beautiful relationship between these two men. I love the connection between the characters (Phichit and Yuuri’s friendship is so fucking sweet and I love the absolute chaos that is Chris and Viktor) and how unique everyone’s skating style is. The costume designs are absolutely killer (I’m partial to Yuuri’s short program costume, Yuri(o)’s free skate costume, and I really enjoy Otabek’s costumes). Chris gets a special mention again because the consistent ass shots during his routines made me fucking cackle. He’s so sexy, I hate him lmao.

Anyway I’ve been here for two paragraphs and I could go on and on about the show. I don’t feel the pain of waiting seven years for Adolescence, but I do understand it now and I’m carrying some of your burdens with you.

In conclusion, I love ice skating and gay people, and I love it even more when those two things are combined.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the hawthorne with the green eyes part 2

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: a night full of fun and games with jameson hawthorne isn’t what you’d intended after going for a little midnight wander but you didn’t regret it

parts: part 1

warnings: none :)

a/n: thanks for the req 🤍🤍 hope you enjoy

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

Strip bowling was exactly what the name said. A game of bowling where you remove an item of clothing if you failed to knock down any pins. It wasn’t difficult to get the hang of, it was difficult for me however to hang on to my clothes. I’d only bowled a few times in my life and on the occasions I had, I was pathetic at the game, but it was for fun then. Now it felt like it was for my dignity.

“Earrings one hundred percent count!” I exclaimed, shoeless, sockless and jumperless. I didn’t know I could be so bad at rolling a semi-weighted ball down an alley.

“No they don’t!” Jameson quipped, wagging his finger at me.

“I’m wearing earrings, like I’m wearing clothes, they count,” I replied stubbornly, unprepared to lose my top or trousers.

“No they don’t,” he shook his head sharply with a dangerous grin on his face.

“You just want me to take my top off,” I snapped, attempting to throw him off.

Colour touched his cheeks, “I want no such thing!”

“Liar,” I smiled mischievously.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged, our roles reversing. Colour in my cheeks and a smile on his lips. My heart raced as I processed what he said. “But don’t lie,” he continued, “you’ve been trying to throw my game off the whole time so I take mine off.”

“I did no such thing!” I mirrored him, with a face of synthetic shock.

“Liar,” he smirked, his voice so dark I wanted to melt.

I laughed lightly.

“Do that again,” he murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“What?” I blurted out, confusion written all over my face.

“That thing, where you laugh and smile and your eyes light up,” he explained smoothly.

I felt a rising warmth in my face and it wasn’t a fever spiking, “why?”

“Because I like it,” he said, his voice so light, so airy there was almost no sound at all.

I took a step towards him and tilted my head up, our eyes glued together and I was unable to pull away. I could sense his hand nearing my waist and I didn’t tell him to stop. It was only then that I realised how badly I wanted this.

“Jameson I-“

“Hey guys!” Xander’s cheery voice is quick to snap me out of my lovelorn trance, “ooo it’s the new girl.”

“It is,” I coughed, wiping my hand awkwardly on my trousers as I stepped away from Jameson, “nice to see you again,”

“Are you playing strip bowling?” he continued, analysing his surroundings, before turning to Jameson with a rueful expression on his face, “without me? Again! Why am I even here anymore?”

“Sorry Xander,” he shrugged, composed as of two moments before nothing had happened at all between us, “I’ll catch you next time.”

“That’s what you said last time and now look,” he protested, “I mean would it kill you to ask me to play?”

“I said sorry,” Jameson defended arms in the air, as if he’s being arrested.

“It’s like that one scene in Frozen,” Xander sighed, “when baby Elsa shuts baby Anna out, you know the whole ‘do you wanna build a snowman’ sequence.”’

“Jameson how could you!” I gasped.

“Right!” Xander said, looking at me, “I knew I liked you.”

“I’m quite likeable I suppose,” I grinned.

“Tomorrow, three am strip bowling,” Jameson said to Xander, “my treat?”

“Throw in snacks and drink and you’re on,” he grinned, nodding.

“Done,” Jameson nodded, “hey Xand, on the topic of strip bowling, I do have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” he said, with

“Do earrings count in strip bowling?” he asked, shooting a sly smile my way.

I scrunched my nose up at him which only widened his pathetic smile.

“Yes,” Xander responded. My eyes widened and my face lit up. I was unable to form any competent words.

“Ha!” I exclaimed, pointing at Jameson.

“What?” Jameson protested loudly, his face flattened, his smile no more, “since when?”

“Don’t you remember when you pierced your left ear when you were thirteen because you thought it would make you look edgy?” Xander replied, “you wore an earring for 6 months and always insisted it counted in strip bowling!”

“You did what?” I gaped, trying so hard to suppress my giggles.

“Oh shut up,” he snapped at me and rolled his eyes, “thanks Xand.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

“Embarrassing me through childhood stories is Nash’s thing though,” he replied.

“He let me trade for an hour,” Xander shrugged.

“So what’s he doing,” I asked.

“Creating a machine with odd qualities whilst simultaneously consuming several blueberry scones,” he said, “…obviously.”

“I should’ve seen that one coming,” Jameson sighed.

“You should’ve, do you even know your own brothers?” he replied in mock offence.

“Sometimes I don’t know,” he shrugged, “honestly you surprise when even when I think you can’t anymore.”

“Well I’ll see you two lobsters later, my eyebrows growing back to much, I need to singe it off again with something explosive!”

He rushed off before I could even respond. This house was mental, but in the best way possible.

I turned to Jameson confused, “Lobsters?”

“That’s what you’re asking about?” he almost laughed.

“Why lobsters?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, hands crammed into his pockets, green eyes making me hallucinate being in his arms even more.

I waited. I waited for him to pick up where we left off, for his hand to actually grip my waist, for our lips to tingle with each others taste but there was nothing. He did nothing. The silence is the loudest force in the room and it made my heartache.

“You used to wear an earring,” I grinned, changing to subject to heal my sinking heart.

“Let’s revisit the lobster debate,” he replied, turning rosy. It was cute.

“Oh no no no, you are not getting out of this one,” I said with a giggle.

“Where there’s a will there’s a way,” he countered, with a nonchalant shrug.

“So what kind of earring was it, diamond?” I continued, with a smile I knew would probably be annoying him.

“I’m not answering you,” he replied bluntly.

“That’s okay, I’ll just ask Xander, or Nash when they’ve switched back,” I mused.

“They won’t give up that kind of information to a practical stranger,” he scoffed.

“Don’t be so sure, I thought they surprised you every day,” I countered, quoting him.

“You’re annoying,” he scrunched up his nose.

“One of my many many talents,” I shrugged softly.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he warned, with the kind of Hawthorne smirk that was to die for.

I raised my eyebrows, “says the king of cockiness.”

“You’ve known me less than a day,” he deadpanned.

“My inference skills are also incredible,” I winked.

He laughed a little, “what should we do now then?”

“I don’t know, find something else to do?” I said.

“You don’t want to carry on with strip bowling?” he replied

“There won’t be much to strip in a minute,” I scoffed, gesturing to my limited clothing.

“That’s part of the game,” he replied, shooting me a lopsided grin.

“You’ve known me for less than a day,” I mocked.

Jameson glared at me playfully, “don’t quote me.”

“But it’s fun,” I whined, pouting slightly.

“You’re annoying,” he replied, messing up my hair.

“Another one of my many perks!” I responded, ducking under his arm whilst slapping him away.

“How about a game of poker?” he asked, the subject changing so fast I nearly got whiplash.

I’d never been that good at poker. I’d been taught when I was younger, I knew the basic rules but I hadn’t played in years. I was rusty. I remembered the last time I’d played, in a bar at fourteen. I’d snagged myself one hundred dollars. I was praying for the miracle to reensue.

“Are you a betting man Hawthorne?” I raised a challenging eyebrow, one he couldn’t ignore. Avery mentioned that he couldn’t turn down a challenge.

“All Hawthornes are betting men,” he said coolly.

“That sounds risky,” I grinned.

“Not if you don’t mind taking the risk,” he cocked his head to the side.

“Where are your playing cards?” I asked.

He picked up his jacket and shook the sleeve gently, a packet of cards falling into his open hand. I suppressed my shock.

“They’re up your sleeve,” I said dryly, “how original.”

“I think you mean impressive,” he replied.

“If it helps you sleep at night, then sure impressive,” I responded.

“You wound me,” he faked a wince, holding onto his heart.

“Blood goes well with your eyes,” I shrugged.

“Better make a deeper wound then,” he murmured, our faces dangerously close.

“Okay,” I bit my bottom lip, “…I beat you at chess a few hours ago.”

“Too deep princess,” he replied.

“Princess?” I questioned, my eyebrows knotting together.

“What’s wrong with it?” he shrugged.

“It’s not my name,” I said bluntly.

“My apologies Princess y/n,” he grinned, taking a step back to bow before me.

I smacked the back of his head, “you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I think you’ve already used that line,” he countered, standing up, tentatively touching the back of his head.

“Thought I’d reinforce it,” I said.

“Remind me to teach you how to slap,” he replied, trying to get under my skin, “that was pathetic.”

“I know it hurt you,” I smiled, “don’t be stubborn.”

“Poker,” he sing-songed waving the cards at me as we sat on the floor.

I crossed my legs and watched as he shuffled the cards. He’d probably done it thousands of times, seen as the motions were so fluid, so captivating. Like an illusion. He cracked one of his signature grins my way and then he dealt.

“This isn’t hawthorne poker is it?” I asked, as he finished up.

“No it’s just regular poker,” he replied, “for now.”

His smirk made my insides tingle and my head go a little fuzzy. We picked up our card and he analysed his set sharply. He was on it, he was ready. Unlike when he was playing chess, he was tense. His focus was harder, his intensity was stronger. He was like a raging fire containing in a bottle coated in kerosine.

It was time to play.

***

There was a flash. My head whipped around to look at the window and I dropped all my cards. Thumped rumbled in the distance and I approached the window to see if it was raining. A second flash.

“Lightning,” Jameson mused from behind me, making me jump.

“There’s a storm coming,” I whispered.

“That’s ominous,” he chuckles, his breath is so hot on the back of my neck that it makes me shiver.

“Let’s hope it isn’t our author’s use of pathetic fallacy,” I turned my head so our faces are close.

“Our author?” he furrowed his brows.

“Whoever writes the stories we’re living,” I replied.

“So that’s how you think of things?” he asked, sounding somewhere between amused and curious.

“The things we do, the people we meet, the places we see, it’s all meant to be, someone wrote it for us,” I smiled, “it’s prettier to think that it was in the stars but even if it’s not, it’s all written somewhere.”

“That must be on hell of a book,” he grinned, then said, “you dropped your cards.”

I turned to face him, “I know.”

“You had a straight flush,” he replied. It was true. I had done better than I’d ever done at poker, apparently the miracle workers were on my side today.

“I know,” I nodded.

“And I couldn’t tell,” he said slowly.

“I know,” I repeat, eyebrows raised.

“You were going to beat me,” he stated, “…again.”

First at chess, now at poker, he was getting sensitive.

“I-“

“Don’t say I know again,” he said quickly.

“Okay,” I replied.

“No one has ever beaten me at poker before,” he said.

“I must be extra special then,” I joked.

“I think you’re more than that,” he smiled.

My lips parted, “what?l

“I think you’re beautiful,” he murmured, the green of his eyes too addicting to turn away from.

I was caught off guard. Was this some sort of fantasy? Beautiful. He had just called me beautiful. My heart raced all of a sudden and fireworks went off in my brain. I was too tongue tied in shock and joy to reply.

“Thank you?” I managed to say after a few beats.

No. No. No. No. I cursed myself. I didn’t mean to say that, like that. That wasn’t how it was meant to sound. If there had been a table near by I would’ve whacked my head on it a good few times.

“Tell me you feel it to,” Jameson pleaded, his void a low hum, “whatever the hell this is between us.”

“Oh I can feel it,” I replied, my voice quiet, seductive.

“That makes this difficult,” he exhaled slowly.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t trust myself with you,” he admitted, looking into my eyes, his expression so pained it made me ache.

“Then trust me,” I insisted, taking his hands into mine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he chuckled lightly, “in the best possible way. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Funny you seem to be doing the same with me,” I giggled.

His face suddenly grew solemn, a look I hadn’t seen a lot of his face, “you don’t want this with me, I promise you I’m dangerous.”

“I like dangerous,” I shrugged.

“Target on my back, run into fire for fun, love too hard kind of dangerous,” he clarified, studying my face for any sign of me changing my mind.

“I’ll reevaluate that statement then,” I said, pausing.

He waited, so still, so quiet that I questioned whether he was breathing.

“I love dangerous,” I whispered, my eyes lighting up.

He only smiled at me then leaned down, cupping my face in his palms. His scent washed over me, delicate and alluring. His lips neared mine and I closed my eyes. The first kiss was gentle and sweet, it was the soft kind of kiss that every girl dreams her first kiss would be. But after that first few sweetened kisses, I got hungrier, I wanted not just to taste him but to indulge in him.

I kissed him harder with a new added passion and he realised I wasn’t messing around, that I wasn’t afraid. He delivered back, not worried to be rougher with his kisses. We moved with the emotion and the intensity of the moment. A fiery feeling ignited my heart. Love. My back hit the wall and his hands found their way to my waist. Pinned by a frenzy of kisses, I suddenly remembered I needed to breathe. It seemed Jameson did to. We pulled away, chests both heaving, hearts both racing.

“Lobsters,” I murmured breathlessly.

“What?” he asked, the most adorable confusion plastered across his soft features.

“Lobsters,” I smiled like an idiot, “they mate for life.”

a/n: people who actually know how to play poker, don’t come at me, I know I need to learn!!

warning you guys now there will be no part 3 😊😊 sorry

thank you for reading 🤍🤍

THE JAMESON CARD BETTER BE HERE SOON 👹👹 IM MANIFESTING IT WITH THIS FIC

TIG masterlist

[innerfare]

Angsty Sabo Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of angsty Sabo headcanons

Genre: Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

Sometimes, Sabo can’t stand the sight of his scars, especially the one on his face. It’s actually the reason he has a little skincare routine. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t overcome his early childhood education, which taught him that men like him are such horrible monsters. He thinks he looks like a monster.  

Sometimes when he gets undressed and turns the shower on, he stares in the mirror while he’s waiting for the water to heat up. He ends up focusing on his scars and wondering if he deserves them. A small part of Sabo thinks he does deserve them. Despite fighting to abolish the system that teaches kids they were born wrong and recognizing it is, in fact, the system that is wrong, Sabo just can’t escape the feeling that he was born wrong. 

Sabo didn’t attack Dragon that day because he wanted to take a shot at the strongest guy on the field, he did it because on some level, he sensed something paternal coming from the man, and it made Sabo lash out; he wanted to kill Dragon like Ace wanted to kill Whitebeard.

“I’m sorry he died, but at least he didn’t die in handcuffs.” This is the only thing that Dragon said to Sabo about Ace, and Sabo latched onto it. At least he didn’t die in handcuffs. He repeats the phrase over and over in his head, a mantra he chants internally every day. He keeps hoping it will make him feel better, but it doesn’t. It makes him feel worse to know the best his brother could have hoped for was to die like a man and not a dog; he shouldn’t have died at all. 

Sabo knows Ace died thinking Sabo would be waiting for him on the other side. He tries to comfort himself with the thought that Ace will be waiting for him, but it doesn’t help. It makes him feel selfish to think Ace died first. It should have been me. 

Sabo doesn’t feel good about having cheated death. He feels like a fraud, a phony, a mistake. He feels like he should be dead. And no matter how many battles he fights and wins, no matter how many enemies he defeats, no matter how many adventures he goes on, he can’t escape the feeling he’s wasting his second chance. Ace wouldn’t waste it the way I am, he tells himself. 

Sabo has nightmares about Ace’s death. The worst part about them is that he has no idea if they’re accurate. Is that how it happened? Is that what it looked like? Is that what adult Ace’s voice sounded like? Is that what Luffy’s scream sounded like? He has no fucking clue, and it tears him up inside. 

A doctor gave Sabo some pills to help him sleep dreamlessly through the night, but taking them makes him feel guilty, as if he’s escaping the punishment he rightfully deserves for not saving Ace. 

Sabo hates sleeping alone. He grew so accustomed to sharing with Luffy and Ace, and even after suffering amnesia, never got used to being alone in bed. Sabo will show up at Koala’s door sometimes at two in the morning and ask if he can sleep with her because being alone reinforces the feeling that he somehow abandoned his family.

When he gets his memories back, Sabo starts sending a little bit of money every month to Dadan. He views it as recompense for the pain he’s certain he caused her by not protecting the boy she raised from the cradle. He won’t go visit her because he’s terrified she’ll scorn him for Ace’s death and turn him away from her doorstep. 

Sabo has a page at the back of his journal where he writes down all the jokes he thinks would make Ace laugh, in addition to other things he wishes he could tell his brother.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[dannybobany]

Really old oc of mine I decided to draw (because he kinda looks like Basil omori)

He’s so old in fact I was never a good enough artist to draw him how I wanted when I still used him so. Here’s a gift for my younger self :}

[quietwingsinthesky]

journey’s end au where the doctor tries to kick everyone off the TARDIS and they just go, ‘???? no?’ and won’t leave. can’t be stupid and think everyone will leave you when they won’t get out of your house.

[askamnesiamoonjumper]

aau rework version of the overload/boss fight where it actually has consequences and bearing on the character dynamics save me,, save me aau rework,,,,

[maliciousmagpie]

Just finished S14, just have to question why Dean was so quick to try and kill his magic son like his brother and bestfriend haven’t also done incredibly insane things for a variety of reasons.

And the real kicker is.

It’s going to get so much worse.

[skid-the-mighty-poet]

[spacetrashpile]

i’ve been watching my friend play p5 royal for a bit now and i’ve decided that it’s the ideal way to play p5 not because of any story changes or what have you, but because you can unlock isanagi-no-ookami (the god final persona from p4) for basically free at any level and then just myriad truths your way through the rest of the game and it’s the funniest thing in the world

[seveneyesoup]

re: lrb straight up as much as i wanna say marry superman i don’t think i could. bc i feel like in this equation he genuinely likes you and i am very fond of him but not like that. he’s one of the last people on earth whose heart i wanna break but it’s unavoidable. and i haven’t seen much of diana but i feel like if it wasn’t working out i could be like imma level w you i’m pretty sure i’m gay. and she’d take it pretty well and we could get a normal divorce. i do have to kill batman though that’s the correct option always

[lilgynt]

i’m gonna COMPLAIN. SHOCKER.