#( ( answered

[sluttywonwoo]

u and coups getting back to the hotel room after he has a concert and u basically pouncing on him as soon as the door closes and pulling him onto the bed <333 i feel like he would love when you get like rough

“baby, wait i haven’t even showered yet-“

“that’s why hotel rooms have two beds,” you counter, pulling him to the one you hadn’t yet slept in.

he raises an eyebrow at you. “what, that’s not-”

you put a finger to his lips and shush him with your free hand, using the grip you have on his shirt to continue dragging him towards the bed.

he laughs when you throw yourself backwards onto the mattress and yank him with you. he barely catches himself in time, hovering over you just inches out of reach.

“c’mon, baby. i’m all sweaty and gross.”

“i don’t care.”

you’re treated to another eyebrow raise as he appraises you, his eyes searching your own. “what’s gotten into you?”

“you, hopefully.”

seungcheol snorts and rolls his eyes in disbelief. “you really don’t want to wait?”

you shake your head. “i want you now.”

“we could take this to the shower,” he suggests.

“we could… after you fuck me like this.”

he sucks in a breath, his resolve visibly slipping away as you slide your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and pull him flush against you. “god, you’re… making this really hard.”

“i can feel that.”

“you know what i meant, you little-”

you let go of his pants and run one of your hands through his hair that’s still damp with sweat. you wind the longer strands around your fingers, pulling until he hisses through his teeth.

“you really want me like this, huh?”

“you know i do. i always do.”

“you like seeing me on stage that much?”

“of course,” you say, “i love watching you perform. but more importantly, i love knowing that as soon as you’re done giving yourself to the crowd, you’re all mine.”

[creature-wizard]

This is a random message, but recently I've been reading a lot of manga and stories with religious themes. However, I'm gay and have religious trauma so I don't see myself returning to it. But I'm also afraid I'm making a mistake in doing so. Do you think you can point me in tue right direction book wise or christian witch creators? I'm completely new to this and don't want to learn incorrect or conspiracy theory information. Thank you 🩵😊

The best way to avoid internalizing conspiracy theories is to improve your critical thinking and research skills, and to research them from a critical or academic perspective and to learn real history and science. Avoiding "bad" fiction is neither a good nor realistic plan, given that tropes associated with conspiracy theories are found in probably the majority of science fiction and fantasy, and frequently pop up in other forms of fiction as well.

(Avoiding "bad" fiction is the puritan/reactionary's answer to social problems, and it has never fixed a single thing because it's about giving in to a gut reaction telling you to avoid confronting the problem instead of carefully analyzing it to find the actual best solution.)

Here are some resources:

Information Literacy Basics

Critical Thinking Skills: Definitions, Examples, and How to Improve Them

11 Characteristics of Pseudoscience

Six Ways To Debunk Any Conspiracy Theory

Miniminuteman

ESOTERICA

Angela's Symposium

BS-Free Witchcraft

Digital Hammurabi

Misquoting Jesus with Bart Ehrman podcast

It's Probably (not!) Aliens (this is the YouTube page for the podcast, but if you search for it you can find it on other platforms)

Behind The Bastards

Tales of Times Forgotten (you can search the blog for topical words like Atlantis, aliens, antisemitism, conspiracy theory, witch, or whatever)

Jason Colavito's blog (again, you can search for topics)

Conspirituality Podcast

Gutsick Gibbon (debunks young earth creationist claims, do not overlook this one!)

[pseudophan]

the real panic in dan's eyes both times it became clear phil's not winning this LMAOO 😭 😭 😭

dan bitching the entire time that phil's winning but barely doing anything to actually try to beat him, so ready to be like noooo >:( i lost >:( oh well 🥰 congrats phil 🥰 who i hate btw 🥰 but phil sucks so bad at the game that once his luck was up he lost anyway. rip.

[venusinhuman]

Please ask! Today I am stuck home all day & very bored!

Send me a number (or several numbers) and I will happily answer! Or ask me something not on this list! I've always seen people do these question games and have always wanted to do one myself so I put together these questions from several similar lists circulating around on Tumblr!

Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life?  If so, what are they?

Are piercings sexy?

Are tattoos sexy?

Are there any sex toys you want to try?

Are you more of a dominant, submissive, or switch?

Are you rough or romantic?

Are you the jealous type?

Are you vocal during sex?

Do you have a gag reflex?

Do you kiss on the first date?

Do you like being blindfolded?

Do you like dirty talk?

Do you like hair-pulling?

Do you like it rough or romantic?

Do you like it when your sexual partner moans?

Do you like name-calling in bed?

Do you like seeing the evidence (bruises, bite marks, hickies)?

Do you like teasing or being teased?

Do you like to cuddle?

Do you like to swallow?

Do you like watching or being watched?

Do you prefer having foreplay or getting right to it?

Do you prefer long hair or short hair?

Do you prefer to give or receive when it comes to sex?

Do you watch porn?

Have you ever cried during sex?

Have you ever faked an orgasm?

Have you ever had a one-night stand?

Have you ever had sex in a public place?

Have you ever had sex in the shower?

Have you ever had to use your safe word?

Have you ever spanked or been spanked in the bedroom?

Have you ever squirted before?

Have you/would you have a threesome?

Have you/would you participate in an orgy?

Have/would you ever have sex outside?

How do you feel about public displays of affection?

How many people have you had sex with?

Is it good sex even if you don’t cum?

Tongue or no tongue while kissing?

What are your BDSM test results?

What are your thoughts on friends with benefits?

What do you like and dislike about oral sex?

What do you think about toys in the bedroom?

What do you wear to bed?

What is an overrated sex position?

What is an underrated sex position?

What is one thing you really like during sex that you wish happened more often?

What is something that never fails to make you horny?

What is the best sexual ego boost you’ve received?

What is the first thing that draws your attention when you meet someone new?

What is your biggest turn-off?

What is your favorite color to wear?

What is your favorite kind of foreplay?

What is your favorite kink and why?

What is your favorite part of your body?

What is your favorite pet name?

What is your favorite position in the bedroom?

What is your favorite type of non-sexual contact?

What is your newest kink?

What is your safe word?

What is your top sexual fantasy?

Which part of your body do you consider the most sexy?

Would you have sex on the first date?

Would you rather be handcuffed or blindfolded?

Would you rather make out or cuddle?

[ask-the-marimozoro]

how do you keep the grass on top of your head so nice and green?? my wifes been getting irritated at the state of our front lawn and i need some advice

I should just get used to it…

[chris-prank]

What would the reaction of the yans be if Darling ignored them as punishment for something they did (Darling won't budge, completely ices them out until they apologize 😈)

P.s Reading your consent from Norway ♥️🫂

Us yandere lovers are really everywhere 😌 (so when do we take over the world?) 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Dr. Seraph/Vincent

Having a toxic boss who is prone to violent outbursts, Dr. Seraph is used to apologize for things he didn’t do or even when he wasn’t the one in the wrong. So if you gave him the cold shoulder he would panic mentally first and foremost, trying to map out everything he did that day to find what possibly made you angry. After that Vincent would give you a very thought out and precise apology despite stumbling over his own words and trembling like a leaf. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Esteban 

He is an attention whore and a drama queen, so he would make a big deal out of it. At the beginning Esteban would give you the silent treatment too, but it would only last like one minute before he starts whining about the lack of attention. I actually wrote something really similar to this! You can find here 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Atlas

He is constantly analysing you, from the smallest motions of your eyes to the contraction of all of your muscles, so he would instantly see the shift in your body language. At first, Atlas would observe you from afar, going about his delay task, to see if things go back to normal. He would truly, unbeknownst to him, look like a kicked dog roaming around his owner. Obviously, he'd soon catch on that you’re mad at him and that you're giving him the silent treatment. So Atlas would rewatch recordings of that day and calculate the probabilities of what could possibly be the source of this punishment. Once he finds it, he’ll swiftly apologies, not wanting you to have enough time to think about abandoning him for not being perfect. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Martin

He doesn’t like the silent treatment tactic, so he won’t play into it. To be more precise, if you try it with him, Martin would ask you to tell him what he did wrong and if you don’t answer he’ll figure that you need some space, so he’ll leave the cottage to do some work until you’re ready to talk to him. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Jacce 

The silent treatment wouldn’t last long with Jacce lol (similar to Vincent). Like I said in a previous post, he always overthinks everything he does when he interacts with people and his first reaction is to always blame himself, so the second he feels that you’re ignoring him he’ll apologize immediately even if he doesn’t know what he did wrong. That’s because he genuinely worries that he messed up “again”. 

[chevroletdean]

🤣🤣 I'M SORRY — His sonnets and Macbeth are everything to me, but I'm more of an Edgar Allan Poe and Oscar Wilde girlie 😂 The color scheme really spoke dark academia and theatre to me. And this actually makes me want to read Midsummer’s Night Dream again! (A good friend of mine homebrewed a D&D campaign loosely based on the play and I love it so much 👀).

I'm so glad the moodboard hit the spot for you! Looks like it was literally made for you.

Always! You don't even know how honored I feel that this challenge inspired you and everyone who joined to write such fantastic pieces. ❤️

And I am SO hyped for more of this, yay!! 😍

10 'Til Midnight

Pairing: Professor!Dean Winchester x Student!Reader

Summary: A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.

AN: Here’s a one-shot for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! This also fulfills a request for one of my lovely Patreon members, @redhoodieone, who wanted to see AU Professor!Dean with a plus-sized student!reader. The reader is a graduate student (mid-20s) and Dean is in his 30s in this, so not really a wide age gap, but we’re still flirting with a gray area here lol.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: graduate student!reader, plus-sized!reader, Shakespeare geekery, mythology and other nerdy classic lit. references, AU Brady sighting, sexual tension, mutual pining(?)

The ash cloud of exhaust rose up from the sidewalk steam grates. It infiltrated your nose as you hurried down a few well-worn concrete steps and into the bowels of the subway, a transition into deeper darkness.

To you, that acrid, mini plume of pollution was the smell of New York City; old cigarette buds and weed hash, fresh tequeños and hot dogs wafting from the open door of the bodega on the corner, mixed with a whiff of piss.

This was the city of broke creatives clinging to their fragile dreams with both hands, usually while the natives rolled their eyes. You were one of those shiny happy people with a dream and the battle-tested will to make it happen, especially tonight. You finally got to see a play on Broadway, an excellent production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

You replayed your favorite scenes in your mind like 1940s movie reel, except it was live in technicolor. An unconscious smile spread across your lips, but you had to hurry. Your train was about to leave in…

You checked the time on your phone—ten minutes to midnight—and compared it to the digital sign up ahead. Your eyes widened.

Shit! One minute?!

You had no choice but to try and run in your heels. That had you skidding to the open doors as they began to close, but you just managed to slip inside, albeit literally slipping with a yelp.

A man saved you by grabbing hold of your arm and waist before you fell, bunching the fabric of your coat beneath his hand. You gasped when you stared up at a familiar face. A sharp jawline covered with stubble, just neat enough to be respectable; dark brows shaded over green eyes, trained on you; bowed lips pursed with confusion.

“Professor?” you said, breathless and shocked.

He was just as baffled, but he finished helping you up as your name fell from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded and thanked him for the save, still catching your breath.

“Here, sit down,” he said, gesturing to a couple of empty seats on the subway. You joined him in sitting, though you ignored the stare of the guy standing closest to you who was holding onto a rail. He wore jeans and dirty hipster Vans, a brown bomber jacket and a gray beanie. The stench of weed and cheap cologne clung to him.

And his gaze followed you until you sat down. Slightly unsettled, you were subtle in the way you angled yourself toward the man beside you.

Professor Dean Winchester.

He really was the last person you expected to see on your way home tonight. You still couldn’t believe you ran right into him!

But then, you noticed the playbill sticking out of his coat pocket (his coat looked more expensive, a dark charcoal gray with a high collar, and it suited him).

“Oh, you…you saw the play too?” you said in excitement, showing him your own playbill that you fished out of your purse. You’d told him about it a month ago, after his lecture on fairy lore. You thought he might enjoy a play that was all about the convergence between the fairy realm and the human realm.

He’d admitted that he’d never seen a Shakespeare play live, but he said he’d look into it. You didn’t think he was actually taking you seriously though.

“Uh, yeah, I did. I’ve never been a big Shakespeare guy, truth be told, but you hooked me,” he said. When he smiled, it made the corner of his eyes crinkle a little.

You couldn’t help but smile too every time you noticed that…even though it made your cheeks warm in a blush. He really had no business being this handsome. And the suit? All crisp and black, paired with a classic, off-white dress shirt and a black pinstripe tie.

Clearly he’d dressed for the occasion of going to the theater, because usually he was one of the chillest professors you knew. He showed up to class in jeans, boots, plain henleys and jackets, though never without his watch, a classic leather time piece with a silver watch face and bold black numbers. It was so vintage, you’d asked about it once when you met with him to talk about one of your essays on Native American burial practices. He’d told you that the watch belonged to his father, who passed away a few years ago now.

“So what’d you think?” you asked. “Weren’t the sets beautiful? It was so ominous and creepy in the ‘forest,’ and ethereal too, like the fairy realm part of it.”

He nodded, smiling slightly wider at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, was a good production. The actors were top-notch.”

“Oh, incredible. That was the best Bottom I’ve ever seen.” You paused, realizing what you said, and a nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth. “Well, the character. Not the ass—donkey—whatever. You know what I mean.”

The man laughed, rich and deep and washing over you pleasantly, even though you half covered your face in embarrassment.

“Can’t argue with you there. The ass was hilarious,” he smirked.

Another giggle, and you flipped through the playbill again to distract yourself from looking at his ruggedly chiseled face. Why, oh why did he have to be so fucking attractive? And somehow he was still single. You’d heard some of the girls in your class whispering about it after class one day—a full-on engagement that fell apart two years ago.

“But really, the actors who played the couples in the love quadrangle were awesome,” you said. “Helena was my favorite.”

He raised his dark brows. “Really? The girl who gets shit on the most in the play?”

That was another thing. He didn’t really talk like any professor you’d met in your life. You let out a snort of laughter.

“I don’t want to be her, I just think she did so well at showing that vulnerability,” you explained. “There’s nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn’t even see you, you know?”

He tilted his head, his amusement fading as he listened. You felt emboldened to continue your thought.

“In her mind, she’s probably thinking, ‘Well, even if he’s yelling at me, at least he’s acknowledging I exist,’” you said, “which is incredibly sad and isn’t giving Shakespeare many brownie points for feminism, but it’s a reality that some women go through.”

After a moment, he seemed to see your point with a nod of his head.

“That’s fair,” he said, arching a brow. “Though I gotta hope you don’t let any guy talk to you like that.”

You shook your head with a smile, but before you could answer him, your phone slipped off your lap and tumbled to the dirty subway floor. You twisted away so you could reach down and grab it, but you caught that whiff of cheap cologne again. Gray beanie guy let go of the rail and bent down to scoop up your phone before you could. You offered a polite thank you and went to take it back, but he held it out of reach at the last second, giving you a teasing smile.

“How about I put my number in first, so you can call me when you get home,” he said. “I’m Brady, by the way.”

That oh-so-gracious offer was followed by a glance down your dress. You sat up straighter, adjusting the collar of your coat back over your neckline with a weary huff.

“Ah, you know what, I’m good with just my phone…please.”

This was why you kind of hated the subway. You didn’t know when you were going to have to interact with a creep trying to steal your phone, shoot his shot, or look down your dress as a consolation prize.

You held out your hand expectantly, but still, “Brady” didn’t take the hint.

“Aw, what, you have a boyfriend or something?” he asked.

“Oh my God. Are you fucking serious?” You sighed and decided a white lie was best here. “Yes, I have a boyfriend. Now give me my phone, please.”

“Hmm. Is it like beginning stages, or...?”

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, maybe we can grab a bite to eat, theeen you know. If things are going well, we could take things back to your place,” he said, his brows popping with sleazy suggestion. He still held the phone away from your grasping hand in frustration.

“Hey,” a deep voice cut in. 

You hesitated, glancing back at Professor Winchester. He glared up at Brady with a stony look that you’d never seen on him before.

“Give her the damn phone,” said the professor. His tone boded no argument.

Still, Brady pushed his luck.

“What, you her boyfriend or something?”

The professor didn’t bother to answer the question, but he stood from his seat, his long coat draped down all six feet and change of him, broad shoulders and calm confidence. He stared down at the lankier, scruffier pothead. Then he held out his hand.

Brady shifted back on his heels, seeming to realize that he didn’t want this version of Midnight on the Orient Express—the kind that ended up on the 6 o’clock news the next morning. With a roll of his eyes, Brady dropped the phone into your professor’s hand, complete with a dickish quirk of his lips. Professor Winchester gestured at him to fuck off.

“Walk away,” he said.

To your astonishment, the Brady just tossed him a “fuck you, bro,” and went to the other end of the car. You stood up too, just as the subway pulled to a stop. Professor Winchester handed you the phone.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Is this your stop?” he asked, still glancing back with a suspicious eye at the asshole still glaring at your backs.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Okay, come on,” the professor said. He laid a guiding hand on the small of your back and joined you in stepping out of the subway car. To your relief, Brady stayed on the train.

“Thank you,” you said again. “Really, you didn’t have to miss your exit for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, with a shake of his head. His frown was still in place just thinking of that fucking loser. “I’ll have better peace of mind knowing you got home safe.”  

Once you told him that your apartment was another few blocks away, he knew he was going to be walking you home. You told him you weren’t that new to the city, but in his mind, it still wasn’t a safe neighborhood for a young woman to be walking around by herself at this time of night.

He had no other motive than that, however…

He’d been pleasantly surprised to see you tonight. You were a flash of scarlet that tumbled into his arms, the scent of your floral perfume teasing his nose before he caught sight of that little dress clinging to your curvy form, ending just a couple inches above the knee. But you drew your wool coat closer to your body, hiding the tantalizing flash of red from view.

It was for the best, he thought, as he cleared his throat and tried to find something else to focus his eyes on while you two walked together. He couldn’t help but land on your face again, on your pretty painted lips.

A deep, full-bodied red.

It was a familiar shade. You’d worn it before, while chewing the end of a pen absently in concentration during one of his lectures on the difference between skinwalkers and shapeshifters—those long, pointed nails tapping a quiet rhythm against the plastic. It was one of your many quirks, but only now did he realize how much he’d actually noticed about you. If nothing else, he always knew he had your attention.

He also knew you were getting a master’s degree in English, and you were taking his class as an elective. You’d actually sought him out before the semester started to make sure you got a spot in his class.

“Sorry, sir, I know it’s early. I’ve just been trying since last year to get into this class, and I really wanted the chance to take it before I graduate this year.”

He’d shifted in his swivel chair with his jean-clad legs casually crossed. He bounced a tennis ball against the wall, as was his habit. (Mostly because it bothered Benny, who had the office next to his.)

The repetitive bounce really helped him to think sometimes; it was basically his version of a fidget spinner.

“You like mythology that much, huh?” Dean asked.

“Oh, yeah!” you said, as your eyes lit up. “I find it so fascinating how every culture in the world has their own stories that have still survived for thousands of years. Some of them even overlap. Like, maybe it’s technically a different creature, but they have the same name, just in another language. Or it’s the same creature, different backstory. It’s like any novel I’ve ever read—similar tropes, but the style, the packaging. That’s what becomes new and creative.”

Amusement tugged at Dean’s lips.

“Same candy, different wrapper, right?” he offered. His reward was your bright smile.

“Yeah, exactly.”

He’d approved your request without a second thought. Unlike 95% of the students who came and went through his classes, you weren’t just smart. You cared. You had a passion for this stuff…and it mirrored his own.

“So, uh, you liked that play, huh?” he asked. Wanted to rub his hand over his face right after. Smooth, Winchester.

But it succeeded in brightening your eyes again.

“Oh yeah. People tend to think of it as one of Shakespeare’s sillier plays, but it drops some interesting ideas about love, for example.” All while you spoke, you spun vivid gestures with your hands.

Dean’s remained in his coat pockets, but watching you made his smile deepen. He liked when you got like this, so animated and alive with your thoughts. It threatened to draw him out of his somewhat jaded shell.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asked. Not because he really wanted to talk about what some sixteenth-century ye olde-y English douche thought about love, but because he wanted to hear you explain it.

You didn’t disappoint.

“Well, there’s the famous Lysander line, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’” you said, “but that’s not even my favorite. That’s boring. That’s every rom-com ever, from Harry Met Sally to While You Were Sleeping, all the way to He’s Just Not that Into You, and Crazy, Stupid Love.”

Dean had to interject. “You watch a lot of chick-flicks, don’t you?”

Your lips puckered, but the amusement in your eyes answered his question.

“Like I said, I think Helena is the most underrated tragic figure in the whole story. Yeah, she’s pretty much a doormat, following Demetrius around even though he claims he’s in love with her best friend. Even though he curses at her, threatens to kill her if she keeps annoying him, following him around like an abused puppy. We can agree, he’s like, the biggest asshole in existence, right?” you said.

“Oh, very much agree. You want some coffee?” Dean asked, pointing to a guy selling warm pretzels and drinks from his vendor cart on the side of the road. It had stopped snowing a few days ago, but the February air was still sharp and bitterly cold at this time of night. If only it were midsummer.

“Uh, you know what, I could go for some tea. Thank you,” you said. But you didn’t let that derail you from your thoughts on Shakespearean love. You were still waxing literary analysis while you dug into your purse to find your wallet, but by the time you got it out, Dean had already paid for both drinks and a large soft-baked pretzel.

Your brows furrowed. “Oh! I meant to pay for my part—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, take half,” Dean said, and he shot you a smile while handing over your hot tea and half of his pretzel. He got your eyes to light up for a different reason as you took the treat. You thanked him with a sweeter smile.

Then you took a bite, and you kept talking.

“But then she says, ‘Love can transpose to form and dignity.’ It can make us act like idiots, right? I mean, back in high school I wrote my boyfriend’s essays for a whole year because I didn’t want him to fail English, and let’s face it, he could barely spell his own last name.”

“Yikes,” Dean chuckled. Sounded like a GED and a gas station job in that guy’s future.

“Right? And what did he do? He dumped me the week before prom because he knew Ruby Summers would put out.” You rolled your eyes, accepting Dean’s sympathies with a gracious nod and a dismissive hand wave. Still, he hoped all you’d given to that guy was your time.

"Well, the guy you're seeing now better be treating you better," he said.

You blinked, your brows furrowing a bit in confusion, until realization dawned on you.

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," you said with a small chuckle. "That's just what I tell pushy weirdos on subways."

Dean was tripped up for a second, but he eventually quirked a smile.

“So anyway, my favorite bar of the whole play is what Helena says in Act 1,” you said. “‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.’”

In that moment, Dean’s eyes were a little too captivated.

But you broke the spell.

You glanced ahead to continue along the crosswalk with him, taking another warm, soft bite of pretzel.

“And that’s why Cupid’s always painted like a blind baby…or something like that,” you said. You laughed a little, and you seemed to realize just how long you’d been yapping his ear off. You came to a stop at what he assumed was your apartment building, but you suddenly got quiet. Embarrassed.

“Sorry, once I open my mouth on this stuff, I can’t really stop unless someone stops me and tells me I’m literally killing them with words that don’t make sense.”

“You’re making a whole lotta sense to me,” Dean replied. And he realized that he meant it. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. I like that.”

Your mind seemed to be a hamster wheel on steroids, but he kind of liked that too.

“Well, did you like the play?” you asked, smiling in embarrassment. “Sorry, can’t remember if I even asked you that yet.”

He chuckled. Even if you had, he didn’t mind answering again.

“I like it more now, hearing you talk about it,” he said. But maybe that was too honest. He padded it with something more appropriate, as your instructor. “It makes sense, since you’re an English major, but your passion always comes through in your essays. I’m really glad you decided to take my class this semester.”

You demured further at the praise. “Oh, thank you. It really is my favorite class so far this year, but…that’s because you’re the one teaching it. You're really good at telling stories. You make them simple and easy to understand, even when we're talking about hell hounds and old ghost stories, or the uh, Oedipus complex, or something.”

Dean chuckled, but it was his turn to be touched, even if it surprised him too. You were just so honest and free enough to speak your mind. It was refreshing.

“Well, thank you. Glad to hear at least one person’s getting something out of it,” he said, his smile warming for once.

You smiled too, looking at him through your lashes. “All right well, thanks again for walking me home. I’ll, um…see you on Monday-ayy!”

You stepped up onto the first stair leading up to your apartment and caught an icy patch with your red-bottomed heels. A gasp fell from your lips as your arms spun out to catch yourself on anything that could keep you from falling, and that happened to be Dean—specifically his coat, and then his biceps when he moved in fast to keep you upright.

He ended up gathering you into his arms while you clung to his coat. Your red nails bit into the dark fabric. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine them popping the buttons of his dress shirt, carving shaky lines of heat and pleasure across his skin.

Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to rid himself of that image, his jaw ticking in response. But another one just replaced it when his gaze met yours, half-lidded and shocked, but…contemplating.

Hot breaths mingled in between, puffing visibly on the cold air.

“God, I’m sorry!” you breathed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He cleared his throat past the slight roughness in his voice. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, um…Take Two,” you said, laughing weakly.

You aimed to let him go and continue on up the stairs by yourself, but Dean couldn’t stop himself from trying to help you. He held your elbow at least, with a hovering hand by your waist in case you slipped again. When you finally made it to the door, you paused and turned to look at him over your shoulder. Again, that look in your eyes said you were debating something in your mind.

“You okay?” he asked again.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just, um…you know what? Never mind. Uh, good night!”

Dean nodded, giving you a casual salute. He didn’t leave until you got in the building safely, but for his entire long walk home, your face wouldn’t leave his mind. That look of internal conflict, like you’d been weighing some kind of pros and cons. He had to wonder…

Had you been about to invite him up to your apartment?

But no. Fucking no. He dismissed that thought as soon as it came. He was almost ten years older than you.

Didn’t stop Catherine Zeta-Jones from hooking up with Michael Douglas. She’s barely pushing fifty while he’s halfway into Senior Depends.

Second problem. Career ending and reputation ruining and his own clock punch at the local 7/11—kind of a problem.

You were a student.

Grad student, came a whisper from the back of his mind.

In Greek mythology, the golden apples of Hesperides in Hera’s garden were guarded by a dragon. The Norse gods also believed in their own version of immortal golden apples, harvested by the goddess Idunn. Sounded a bit like Eden, right? As in, the Judeo-Christian Garden.

As in, forbidden fruit.

What did they all have in common? There was always a consequence for the taking and sampling part. The question was, is the price worth how good it tastes?

Remembering the feeling of your soft curves under his hands, Dean had a feeling it would be more than fucking worth it.

But he shook the thought from his head, his fingertips digging into the soft insides of his coat pockets.

He was your professor. That was where those thoughts should end.

You didn’t even see him that way…did you?

You shucked your heels off as soon as you got inside your apartment. You heaved a deep sigh and shed your purse, your coat, your earrings and necklace, which you set down on the nightstand in your bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and fell back onto the creaky mattress.

Your hands came to rest lightly over your stomach, a safe place, while you thought back to how Professor Winchester held you so tight. Secure. Gentlemanly.

How he looked at you, his green-eyed gaze falling to your lips, like he was contemplating the best way to close that distance, bowing his head those last few inches and…

You forcibly shook your head. He was your goddamn teacher.

It didn’t matter that he was probably the youngest faculty member on campus, and you were a twenty-five-year-old graduate student. Whether or not the man was “age appropriate,” he was still your professor. You couldn’t think about him like that.

And he absolutely didn’t look at you like that…

Did he?

AN: Sorry again for all the nerdy lit. tidbits, but I had fun. 😂 I'm thinking about expanding this into an actual little series, so let me know what you think! ❤️

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Dean Winchester One-Shots List

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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

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@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @impala-dreamer @spnaquakindgdom

[skibasyndrome]

💜; (does this count as a prompt?)

“You’re wearing my hoodie.” “You said I could.” “But why? You keep plenty of your clothes here, though.” “I like the smell of your cologne.” “My cologne?” “I just like it— I like the way you smell, it’s warm, calming.”

Hiiiii 💜💜💜 this very, very much counts as a prompt!! Thank you so much for sending it in!

cw: lightly nsfw. wille likes to sniff, what can I say

thank you @sobadbad for reminding me that this scene exists, this one's for you 💜 thank you for always blessing us with the most wonderful gifs and constantly inspiring me with new details and gifsets

When Simon walks back into his room, a towel slung around his hips, another hanging around his shoulders so he doesn't drip all over mamma's floors with his hair, he pauses in the doorway. Sat on his bed, bare legs pulled up to his chest, one foot tapping away at an inaudible rhythm, there's Wille. Wille in a purple hoodie that Simon is all too familiar with. Out of all the things he could've chosen to put on after his shower, it's Simon's already-worn hoodie that made the cut.

"You're wearing my hoodie," he says, feeling a little silly even while he says it. Wille looks up from his phone. His wet hair is ever so slightly poking out from under the hood. Why has Simon never realized that purple is one of Wille's colors? Most of them are, at least to Simon, because Wille looks pretty in most things he wears, but the vision is just a little bit striking. But maybe it's less the purple and more the... all of it. The idea that Wille is here. On his bed. In boxers and Simon's hoodie and nothing else. Wille gives a small shrug that immediately pulls Simon's eyes towards his shoulders, hugged more snugly by the fabric than Simon is used to seeing it on himself. That's... something. “You said I could.” Simon nods. He did say something about grabbing whatever Wille feels like. “But why?" A gust of cool air hits Simon's legs and he huddles out of the doorway, further into the room, searching for the warmth of the small space. "You keep plenty of your clothes here, though,” he argues, lifting the towel to his hair and scrunching some water out of it. Ever since school has ended, Wille has been spending more and more time here, leaving sweaters and shirts and joggers and t-shirts that Simon sometimes sleeps in when Wille has to go home again. But even Simon's own selection of clothes is not limited enough to have to resort to the hoodie he wore all day yesterday. Wille just shrugs again. As if that isn't offensively distracting. Simon briefly wonders if he could get a glimpse of Wille's tummy if he were to stand up and raise his arms. Probably not, but Simon files the thought away. Maybe he can find a t-shirt that would have that effect on Wille. When his eyes return to Wille's face, he thinks there's just the hint of a blush there. Hard to tell in the dim lighting. “I like the smell of your cologne,” Wille says, with so much earnestness that Simon feels it in his bones. That's... that, too,... something. But he tries to smile through the somersault his stomach is doing. “My cologne?” It's not much of anything. He's been keeping the bottle next to his bed, ever since his aunt got it for him on his 16th birthday. She'd said something about becoming a man and impressing people at school that had Simon try really hard not to wince, but it's a fine enough fragrance. Not too aggressively sporty, not too sweet. And of course Wille would notice it, they're spending enough time very, very close to one another. But he's never said anything. After a short moment of hesitation, Wille also breaks into a smile. He puts his phone down on top of Simon's comforter, gesturing for Simon to come over as he sits up and scoots towards the edge of Simon's bed. So, of course, Simon drops his towel onto his desk chair and crossed the rest of the space to come to stand in front of Wille, between his knees. Wille looks up at him, head thrown back far enough for the hood to start slipping. If Simon stays focused on that, he doesn't have to give into the dangerous little feeling that sits deep in his tummy and is giving him ideas. Just because he's leaning over Wille. But Wille seems set on getting Simon's mind there, because he lifts an arm, a beautiful, gorgeous, snuggly dressed in Simon's hoodie arm, and traces up and down Simon's sternum with the back of his knuckles.

“I just like it," he says, eyes trained on where his hand is raising goosebumps on Simon's shower-warmed skin. Simon swallows hard. Wille's wrist comes uncovered when the sleeves slip back, and Simon gets an irrational urge to kiss the soft skin there. But Wille seemingly isn't done with him. "I like the way you smell," he says with a soft smile, like the sentence doesn't set Simon's blood on fire. Like Wille leaning in until Simon can feel the warm ghost of his breath on his abs isn't doing him in. "It’s warm," he says, and just when Simon expected him to press a kiss to the skin of his tummy, he, instead, feels and sees Wille's nose dig into him. The muscles of his tummy twitch at the contact. "Calming,” Wille says, then sucks in a deep breath. Simon's shoulders sag dramatically when Wille pulls back. He must be looking ridiculous, because another smile is tugging on Wille's lips when he looks up at him. But what the fuck is Simon supposed to do with that information? Every part of his brain is screaming at him to pick his jaw back up from the floor and instead kneel down there, make Wille shut up, because he can't just... do things like this, sniffing Simon, telling him he loves his smell, but Wille is much quicker than Simon's clouded mind. With his hands on Simon's hips, he pulls him closer, makes him shuffle up to the bed until his shins are touching the mattress. And Wille's boxers. Simon's breath hitches when his towel-covered erection brushes up against Wille's chest. If there was any chance of denying it in the first place, they're far beyond that point. But Wille only pulls him closer, his smile unwavering. Simon swallows again. His arms are heavy like lead, hanging uselessly beside his body, but his fingers itch with the urge to brush a stray strand of Wille's hair off his forehead. But before the thought can turn into action, Wille is diving back in, pressing a line of kisses against Simon's skin. He drags his nose all over him, nuzzling and sniffing and Simon thinks he's going to lose his mind. "I'm not wearing it, though," he presses out, right before Wille experimentally dips his tongue into his belly button. Simon yelps, then lets out a breathless giggle. Thank god Wille is holding him up. But when he looks back up, Simon's knees buckle. "Hmm?" It's like he's gone off to some place else while he was fucking smelling Simon's skin. "I mean," Simon starts, and finally his arms cooperate, coming up so he can grab onto Wille's shoulders. For extra hold. But the attempt seems futile when Wille leans his body forward, putting more pressure on Simon's cock. "Not wearing it right now," he manages. "The cologne."

Wille only nods. "Still like your smell," he says and moves his hands back, grabbing hold of Simon's ass through the towel.

All that Simon has in him is a hum. If Wille isn't going to do something more than kiss (and fucking smell!) Simon soon, Simon might start rubbing himself on his chest. God. And the thought doesn't even sound unappealing. Wille is right there with him. He jerks his chin towards Simon's towel, then up towards him, asking what seems like the most unnecessary question right now. Simon's nod is quick and desperate. "Please," he croaks, then lets out a shaky breath when Wille rubs a hand over him, through the towel, while he fiddles with the tie on the side. It's almost a small eternity before he's finally tugging the fabric down and off Simon, throwing it somewhere for them to worry about in the future. Simon's ability to worry about anything at all melts right out of his ears when Wille wraps a hand around him. Wille looks down, one hand in the small of Simon's back pulling him closer again, and Simon lets out a groan when Wille lowers his head just enough to fucking nose at his dick. Insane. His boyfriend is insane. Simon is very glad he's freshly showered, not still sweaty and sticky from the day spent out and about, secretly hopes Wille knows what he's doing and isn't about to figure out that, actually, he doesn't like this after all, but every last worry disintegrates and leaves Simon's body in a gasp when Wille lowers his mouth onto him.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

[annabelle--cane]

thought too hard about jon magnusarchives and something is happening to my brain

happens to me Frequestly. alas there is no cure <3

[librastrai]

Being of irish descent and choosing to support israel's ethnic cleansing is wild

i'm an irish traveller first & foremost, i recognize that people in the west's eyes like settled irish & arab majorities in the middle east can often allow their own violence against minorities go unchallenged because they've "suffered too."

arab countries are violently antisemitic. ireland is violently anti traveller. jews & travellers are indigenous minorities. i think i'm perfectly in line with my heritage.

[chevroletdean]

Hahaha, that's right! 😏 and he can do it all day. And all night. And he will OTL

Oh, he's definitely ruthless 😮‍💨 Slow isn't his style, but I do wonder how that would play out 👀 I just think he's way too impatient and greedy for that, lol!

Thank you so much for reblogging ❤️ I know I needed a cold shower after writing this 😂

Stamina

PAIRING: Soldier Boy/Ben x Fem!Reader GENRE: Smut (18+ CONTENT) TO NOTE/WARNINGS: PWP, petnames, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, overstimulation, not betaread WORD COUNT: 777 (make a wish) PROMPT: 6) marathon session (they just fucking keep going, babyyyy) A/N: This was an anonymous request. Someone wanted either prompt 6 or 17 with either Dean, Soldier Boy, or Beau. You can find prompt 17 + Soldier Boy here! I won't be accepting new requests for the nsfw prompt list because I have enough to work through lmao. I'm so slow with these aaaa, sorry OTL CREDIT & LINKS: Dividers by cafekitsune ─〃★ Soldier Boy gifs ─〃★ Join the taglist ─〃★ Soldier Boy Masterlist

The first time it happened you thought it was hot, maybe a little funny—in the best way possible.

And it was, his greed and how insatiable he was. Except you could barely keep up with him. You weren’t sure just how much more of this marathon you could take.

You, absolutely wrecked beneath Ben, your skin flushed and red and hot, and your lungs aching as you gasped for air. Him, perfectly fine. Because of course Ben didn’t even break a sweat. His breathing was only slightly ragged, voice husky as he whispered filthy nothings into your ear.

You were still recovering from another one of your earth-shattering orgasms, your walls still pulsating around his dick. You’d lost count of how many times he made you cum—or if you even had another one in you.

Much unlike Ben, who was still hungry for more. Even though he had just painted your insides white, he was still throbbing. Still hard.

Still eager for more.

Ben’s iron grip on you didn’t falter. In fact, he pulled you even closer and pushed impossibly deeper, until his tip practically bullied your tender cervix. A soft half-squeal-half-chuckle escaped your kiss-swollen lips.

“Easy,” you huffed, breathlessly, but with a smirk on your lips.

“Not a chance, babydoll,” Ben grinned. “’m not halfway done with you.”

Your protest died on your tongue the moment he pulled out and slammed back into you.

Sensitive as you were, your back arched. The lewd squelching noise caused the blush on your cheeks to darken tenfold. You could feel it dripping from you, his warm seed mixed with your own essence, the fluids creating a slick ring around his cock.

“Ben!,” you giggled, your sweaty hands desperately searching for an anchor in his shoulders.

“I could do this all day,” he shrugged and pushed back into you and fuck if that didn’t do it for you.

Curse him and his superpowers. It was so unfair how you were all worn out and tired while he seemed to find fuel in ruining you. Damn supes and their stamina.

“S-slow down at least?,” you whined, twitching and squirming under his hungry touch.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t do slow.” As if to emphasize, he punctuated his sentence with yet another snap of his hips against yours. It earned him that sweet blend of a moan and a sob from you, one that spurred him to repeat the movement.

His pace was relentless as it was during the first round, barely leaving you a chance to catch your breath. Each hiccup and moan was swallowed by his mouth on yours, his kisses just as demanding as his thrusts.

“Don’t worry, dollface,” Ben whispered against your lips, with that intoxicating rasp of his, his chest rumbling and pushed tightly against yours. His tongue trailed down your jawline, licking across the slope of your neck, nibbling along your collarbone.

You threw your head back into the pillows, sinking into the silk underneath your tender body. Ben pushed you deeper into the mattress with each roll of his hips. Your thighs were trembling around his waist, but his large hands kept them pressed neatly against his skin.

“All you gotta do—” Thrust. “’s lay back—” Thrust. The inside of your thighs were messy and wet, your juices leaking onto the sheets beneath you. “And lemme make you feel good.”

Unable to respond, you could only give a weak nod. It earned you a soothing kiss to your temple, an affectionate gesture in the middle of his relentless claiming.

“Atta girl,” he hummed, pleased. “Taking me so well.”

And you did.

Every inch of him, every drop, all he had to offer. You swore you nearly blacked out when his movement stilled and he spilled a second load into your sopping heat. He talked you through it, though the words barely registered.

“Gonna pump you so full, you’ll be leaking.”

“Give me one more, babydoll, that’s it.”

“So fuckin’ tight, ‘s like you were made f’me.”

His promises and praises blended together, fogging up your mind until everything of you was literally filled with everything of him. His warmth, his voice, his scent, his cum—you fell apart under him again, body shivering in his embrace.

Ben gave you a moment to calm down, his cock still nestled deep inside of you. Still throbbing. Still hard. And you knew he wasn’t halfway done with you. By far.

“Think you can take another one?,” he grinned, proud and still hungry.

Clenching around him at the mere idea, you bit your lower lip and nodded. “Please…,” you whimpered softly and Christ on a cross, your wish was his demand.

Soldier Boy (Ben) Taglist:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @ambiguous-avery @angelicjackles @bejeweledinterludes @blueschevy

@deanswifeyy @foxyjwls007 @ifritpng @jackles010378 @jollyhunter

@justwhisperingfantasies @kamisobsessed @ladykitana90 @lunaleah @mahi-wayy

@multiversefanfics @slut4axkles @supernotnatural2005

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[festivating]

Omgg I just saw you have some Attrition hcs so now I wanna know any coupley cutesy Silk Chiffon headcanons lol

Hell yeah!!

Despite what you might think, it takes a while before most people at Shiz realize they're dating because they don't… do anything differently than before. They hold hands everywhere, sit together all the time and are always occupying the same space just like they did when they were friends.

They both really like giving gifts to each other. Galinda mostly buys stuff for Elphie, and Elphie mostly makes stuff for Galinda.

I think they go out a lot, too. When they have the time they explore Shiz the way they explored Frottica. And I think at one point they get really into having a little shared journal where they rate the places they go to, and where they want to go next and things like that, and they leave each other cheesy little notes inside of it.

Their love language is info dumping to each other.

I don't think they share their regular clothes all that much but they do share loungewear quite often. They also share accessories often, little hairclips or bracelets or wristwatches and things like that.

They got rid of Elphaba's little bed in their dorm so they could have space for more stuff. Elphaba is not exactly a maximalist like Galinda is but she discovers likes having Stuff because she never could before.

They alwaysssss wear the compasses of course.

Little anniversaries are taken very seriously by Galinda. Monthiversaries, first kiss-versary, the anniversary of the first time Elphaba held the door open for her, that kind of cheesy stuff.

Constantly touching of course… I don't think I have to say this considering they are the way they are in the fic but sdjfsd the most joined at the hip girls you ever did see.

I don't think they argue often? But they are not the best at conflict resolution because I think Galinda is the sort of person who wants to sit and think her feelings through before she can talk about them, but Elphaba is more like. We should talk abut this Now. But they learn to manage this <3 And even when they're mad at each other they still like. Hold hands under the table or whatever.

Getting ready for the day together <3 all the time <3 and also getting ready for bed together <3

Anyway Galinda's moms weren't the only ones who had a bet on how long it would take them to get together. A great part of the university was involved in something like that. Nessarose made a ton of money.

They write home to Frottica a lot a lot a lot and send letters together all the time <3 Yes Galinda signs their names as Galinda & Elphaba Upland.

[pukefactory]

I see your ENA jealousy snippet and I raise you Reader jealousy prompt.

Since most entities generally dislike ENA, the only way I can see this event happening is when the Reader witnesses ENA spin her head around Coral Glasses with a pleasant look and music accompanying her.

The Reader thinks of this as general ENA shenanigans, but then they see the Meanie side is happy to see Coral alongside the Salesmen side; making a full smile.

I don’t think the Reader is jealous per se, but more confused and a bit hurt when witnessing it with thoughts of,

“They never act like that with anyone. They don’t even act like that with me. Is it because she’s similar to me? Or…something else? What just happened…???”

They’re a bit offended that Coral straight off the bat was able to make Meanie smile.

In that instance, I think the reader would be more confused than annoyed—more of a What is it about Coral Glasses that has ENA so intrigued? moment. Should you be worried that ENA is suddenly getting unusually close to her? Should you feel concerned for Coral Glasses? Probably. It is ENA, after all—and when she fixates on something, it usually spells chaos.

[pseudophan]

What if we kissed…at the Mount Olympus themed virtual golf course by hitting our balls together

instructions unclear now we've both got testicular torsion

[planet-dusk]

just me casually thinking of giving a loser jisung a chance

and this greedy little thing end up so hungry he’s fucking for hours and when you’re spent he’s not gonna pull out just stays on top still pleading a bit more, just a little longer

loser!ji who only gets between your legs because you lost a bet. he knows you think he's a weirdo and a perv, and you wouldn't give him the time of day if it hadn't been for that stupid game. he doesn't care. pussy is pussy. you're certain he's going to be one of those 'two pumps and it's over' guys but jisung's got other ideas: he'll start by eating you out until you're a crying, overstimulated mess and only then he'll fuck you. not because he wants to pleasure or impress you but because jisung loves. eating. pussy.

and when he finally cums inside of you, you think he's done. wrong. he's just getting started... play stupid games, win stupid prizes 🤭