#I am obsessed with everything he does in this video

[personinthepalace]

Edward Bluemel's Binging Essentials - A Discovery of Witches

this is my new favorite edward bluemel video hahaha (x)

[horsemeatluvr23]

zedaph!!! coloured pencil n fineliner :D ngl i rly struggled w getting a photo of this one .. i ended up scanning it but i think it washed out a lot of the pencil detail n ended up looking like i deep fried it lmao. u will all just have to trust me when i say this looks better irl

[astrxealis]

i shut up abt ffxiv for now hii good noon u all take care :3 <333

[izurou]

STOP TELEPHONING ME FT. BLUE LOCK MEN

features: shidou ryusei, michael kaiser, mikage reo, itoshi sae, bachira meguru, and when someone calls you during sex.

contains: female reader. pro! blue lock charas. penetrative sex. oral sex. fingering. semi public for reo and bachira. a creampie from sae. brief filming in shidou’s. she and her pronouns used. you or him are on the phone in all of them so yeah !!

note: these are so long for hcs i am so sorry about that

SHIDOU RYUSEI

one of the sweetest things about ryusei, is that his camera roll is filled to the brim with you.

countless rows of what seems like every image of you ever—screenshots of your instagram stories, all those pictures you’ve sent with the message do i look ok attached, and of course—the dozens of photos he’s snapped of you himself.

sweet indeed—although, he’s still him, and so this habit of his isn’t all innocent admiration and good intentions. he has zero hesitation when it comes to filming you during sex—it’s a nasty side effect of his little obsession and, even nastier, he prefers leaving that type of media on your phone; sweet videos of him with his cock stuffed inside you.

so when he’s doing just that—using your device to record himself fucking you from behind, and the words can i help you suddenly leave his mouth—your heart nearly stops. did he really just? with a reluctant glance over your shoulder, you find him holding your phone up to his ear, grinning. he did.

“ryusei! what the fuck? who’s—” you attempt to scold him through an aggressive whisper, but get cut off by your own gasp when he pushes down on the side of your head—forcing your cheek flat against the mattress. he rolls his hips forwards with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but melt into the cotton sheets and moan when he does so—being effortlessly tamed by the thickness of his cock.

“oh? you sure you wanna talk to her? she’s a little busy right now,” he sneers into the receiver, grin tripling in both size and arrogance when he looks down and sees your face—scrunched up in pure ecstasy as you fist the fabric on either side of your head. yeah, busy being all fucking his.

nevertheless, he thinks it’d be rude of him to not transfer the call over—this person went through the effort of dialling your number, after all.

so he tucks your phone between his shoulder and his ear, and uses both hands to pull you upright—flush against his chest. with his left hand latching onto your throat, and his right now holding your phone a couple inches from your ear, he purrs, “it’s for you, babydoll. wanna say hi?”

there’s a beat of silence, and then you hear it, a voice seething with anger—one that belongs to none other than your ex boyfriend. shit.

you’re holding your breath now—hoping that if you can remain silent, he’ll give up on his attempt to reach you altogether. a decent plan—but not for someone who’s currently dating the world’s biggest instigator. “c’monnnn, at least tell him how good your boyfriend’s fuckin’ you.”

he hums in content as his left hand travels south—between your tits and eventually, onto your clit. he uses his middle finger to rub tight circles, and with his cock still pressing kisses to your sensitive spots, with his tongue dancing across your neck—a whine slips out from between your lips.

and your ex hangs up—spewing a few unsavoury comments about your boyfriend before doing so.

“awwww, we were just getting to the best part,” ryusei whines, but he doesn’t stay down for long. “get ready to cum for me baby, and don’t fuckin’ hold back. we’re gonna leave him a voicemail.”

MICHAEL KAISER

when it comes to you, michael is both equal parts selfish and selfless.

he’s great at sharing. everything from his clothing to his habits—routines he’s stuck with for years, changed, because he wants his luxe life to be something you can experience with him.

like tonight, for instance—where a past version of himself would have returned home from practice, and immediately gotten into a hot bath to loosen his sore muscles. present him is in fact relaxing in a hot bath after a rather shit practice, but present him also has a pretty girl to help him wind down.

and while your boyfriend has no problem sharing with you, hell would freeze over before he’d share you. you’re his, and though he seldom allows his possessive behaviour to control him—it seems to linger on his shoulders nonetheless, particularly after a bad day.

you’re doing your best to lift his spirits—bouncing on his cock, pressing needy kisses along his inked neck—when your phone starts buzzing against the tiled ledge surrounding the tub. he knows you’ve been expecting an important call, but he doesn’t want you to stop—he’s not going to let you stop. even so, he’d be a pretty bad boyfriend if he ignored the call altogether, so he’ll answer it himself—seeing as you’re preoccupied.

“hello?” his voice is smooth, nonchalant—a little too much so. you still your movements, watching expectantly as michael’s gaze shift to yours. he smiles before continuing, as if he’s softening the impending blow. “an interview? sure, let me pass you to her.”

his eyes darken ever so slightly as he holds your phone out, mouthing the words take it.

you obey your boyfriend’s command with a little too much confidence—bringing the device up to your ear and barely managing a hello of your own before michael has you cupping a hand over your mouth with a sharp thrust of his hips. he doesn’t stop there either—grabbing onto your waist tight, more or less holding you still as he begins fucking into you at a steady pace.

“uh, i-i’m,” your mind goes blank as the voice of your potential employer rings in your ears with a simple question—what does your availability look like? michael is eavesdropping of course, sucking feverishly at the delicate skin on your neck as he strains to hear the conversation.

“monday through friday my love, isn’t that right?” he purrs into your opposite ear—handing you the answer on a silver platter. he wants you to get at least one response out before he inevitably, but indirectly ends the call. maybe it’s his sour mood tainting his train of thought, but the future where you have a job—is one where you have less time for him, less time for this. he doesn’t want that. “because you’re all mine on the weekends, aren’t you? such a precious girl, letting me fuck you like this. i don’t know what i’d do without you, baby.”

the words drip from his mouth like honey, sweet and genuine. it’s times like these that prove how scary love is, because in the heat of the moment—you’re convinced that you don’t really want this job, that all you want is to be his.

the water sloshes against the walls of the bathtub as you crumble onto his shoulder with a whine—phone silent and blank as it sits uselessly in your hand. michael runs his palms up and down your back in an attempt to soothe the upset he just assisted in—cock jumping when you sit up and pout at him.

“you’ll definitely get the next one, my love. in the meantime, this can be your full time job,” he grins—smug, but not insincere in the slightest. “you’re already a perfect fit.”

MIKAGE REO

reo, prim and proper at first glance—the perfect textbook gentleman, is anything but.

he has the courteous mannerisms down to a tee, all charming smiles and soft touches as he opens the door to his luxurious car—holding out a hand to help you inside. once you’re seated, he’ll do an adorable little jog over to the driver’s side because—keeping a pretty girl waiting just isn’t right.

his chivalry ends there though, because a parking lot is the perfect place for you to suck him off, he thinks.

and oh, how absolutely perfect you are—leaned over the centre console with your tongue swirling around his tip. he can’t help but pant a little as he lets his head fall back against the seat.

but his euphoria is short lived, because the sound of your ringtone fills his vehicle almost as quickly as it kills the mood—bluetoothed and displaying a name on the dashboard’s touch screen. seishiro. reo figures he’s only calling you to ask about him, but it’s awfully late, and while he has no reason to distrust his best friend—he finds himself curious, wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation.

so, he taps his finger on the little green button.

“ynnn,” nagi’s voice emanates from the speakers—syllables drawn out and on the whinier side. you peer up at reo, and he’s looking down at you, eyes heavy with anticipation as he waits for a follow up. “are you with reo?”

your boyfriend visibly relaxes upon hearing that—and with his curiosity fed, he reaches forward to hang up, but—you swat his hand away.

“no, why? what’s up?” you hold eye contact with reo as you speak—ghosting your lips over his tip before licking up his shaft and taking him back into your mouth. you’re hoping that nagi will start to ramble, because if he does—reo will have to stay quiet, or at least attempt to.

and nagi happens to want an unreleased game, one that reo could pull a few strings and get his hands on if he wanted to—all things the voice on the other end is in the midst of explaining. he’s mere background noise though, because your attention is solely on reo and his cock.

you hold him near the base, using your hand to pump whatever your mouth can’t accommodate. reo shifts in his seat—biting down on the knuckle of his index finger as he goes one on one against the urge to buck up into your face, because that’d really conjure up a sinful sound.

and reo worries he might draw blood when you hum against him—sending vibrations throughout the length of his cock, and oh fuck, he’s so close. his brows knit together as he taps frantically on the screen—ending the call. he cums seconds later, head thrown back in pleasure as he groans and gasps through his orgasm.

“c’mere,” he breathes heavily—cupping your face in his hands and crashing his lips onto yours for a messy kiss. “you wanna sit on it, sweetheart? we can head to the backseat.”

ITOSHI SAE

it might not seem like it, but there’s nowhere sae would rather be on his day off than here.

sitting on a small padded bench inside the private fitting room of a store, with you straddling his lap in a little floral mini dress. he figures that if he’s going to blow this much money on so little fabric, he might as well trial the garment’s true purpose—sex whenever and wherever he wants.

and now, as he watches you grind down onto the growing bulge in his pants—dress bunched up at your waist with one of the straps slipping off your shoulder, he can definitely see himself getting his money’s worth.

he’s just getting into it—running his hands over your ass and hips, tangling his fingers around the lace of your panties—when your phone starts to ring. at first, neither of you even acknowledge the sound, but it persists with a second call, and out of his peripherals—sae sees his manager’s name sitting the top of the screen. great, so much for your alone time.

“hello?” your voice is soft, and yet it still manages to catch your boyfriend off guard. during his brief sulk, you’ve not only answered the call, but put it on speaker as well. “is everything alright?”

the words i need to talk to sae come through, and you feel the breeze from his eye roll. you run your fingers through the hair at the back of sae’s head, pulling him a little closer as you continue to move your hips. he nuzzles into your neck soon after—eyes heavy as he watches your movements in the floor to ceiling mirror directly across from him.

“sorry, no can do. you know he needs the break,” you hum into the receiver, and you swear sae’s grip on you tightens. he loves it when you defend him like this—he thinks it’s hot.

so hot—he just can’t keep it in his pants anymore. he’s unbuttoning and unzipping—pushing fabric out of the way until his cock is springing free, and finally, he’s sinking into your cunt.

a breathy fuck falls from his lips as he leans his head back against the wall—staring up at you like you’re some kind of deity, which—in this dress, just might be true. his nails carve into your hips as he drags you along his shaft, and oh—it’s so easy for him to get carried away when you’re hugging him so tight.

“he’ll call you first—first thing in the morning.” you fumble over your words a little when the head of sae’s cock presses against a sensitive spot, but you get the response you wanted nonetheless—a that’s good thank you, and the call ends there.

a reward worthy performance, he thinks.

“oh god, sae,” you whine—and he buries his face back into the crook of your neck, recognizing the familiar knot unraveling just below his waist. his teeth sink into your shoulder, and he cums hard, breathing heavy against your skin as he watches the mirror’s reflection through hooded lids—staring intently as white starts to leak out of you, and down the side of his cock.

“careful, you’re gonna ruin the dress,” he mutters—knowing full well that the sticky mess is all him. “guess i have to buy it now, huh?”

BACHIRA MEGURU

meguru’s fatal flaw is his attention span, or rather—his lack thereof.

the dinner reservation was at seven—a table for four. you, him, and two representatives from a sports brand that’s interested in sponsoring him.

it’s a few minutes past the hour, and the other duo is evidently running a little late—no big deal, but your boyfriend thinks otherwise. he’s sitting with his chin in his palm, twirling a straw around his fingers, and crumbling under the weight of his boredom. unfortunately, you don’t think this is an establishment that’d have a colouring page and some crayons for him, but not to worry—he’s just found something else to entertain himself.

“meguru, behave,” you shoot him a glance as he scoots closer—hearing him mutter a yes ma’am, but still feeling his hand beneath your skirt a few seconds later. he brushes his middle finger over the thin fabric of your panties—gently rubbing over your clit before he begins tracing what you think are hearts onto your cunt.

your gaze floods with desire—a look that meguru knows well, and loves dearly. he’s getting excited now, tail wagging with delight, because he knows that you’ll let him continue—so long as he doesn’t make it obvious to anyone in the room.

this means that, when one of the representatives suddenly starts calling you, he technically doesn’t have to behave.

“hello?” you bring your phone up to your ear, and at the same time—meguru’s hand slips past the waistband of your panties. he sighs in content—slouching back in his seat and lolling his head to the side. you’d almost think he was the one being touched. “w-what? you can’t find it?”

ah, so you’re saying they’re lost—which loosely translates to you have more time to play. good.

using his index and ring finger to spread you open—he sinks his middle into your warm cunt, curling it upwards and moving his hand side to side a bit. meanwhile, the voice on the other line is begging for directions, and you’re struggling to give them.

you lean into meguru’s side and hold his wrist—not to stop his movements, but to limit them, at least until you manage to get off the phone. but your boyfriend—sweet as pie and smart when it’s convenient for him, presses a kiss to your temple, and decides that he’ll take care of it for you.

“look for the big arena tour billboard, we’re right below that. see you soon,” he leans in and hums happily into your phone, and the rep thanks him before hanging up. with time now running out, he brings all three of his fingers up to your clit, where he rubs tight circles. “mmm, i don’t wanna stop, baby. wanna make you cum.”

“megs, that’s them!” you squeak—spotting two well dressed, important looking people scurrying past a window on the opposite side of the room. you claw at meguru’s wrist—but his fingers stay glued to your clit for as long as possible, and he ends up pulling away mere seconds before they round the corner.

he’s all innocent smiles and waves as the two approach the table—not so subtly licking up the side of his middle finger, which—wouldn’t be so awful if there were more than just drinks on your table. either way, it’s swept under the rug, and the four of you begin introducing yourselves while looking over the menu.

and your phone is on silent at this point, but it lights up with one new message from meguru.

bathroom in 5? <3 i know what i wanna eat ;)

[onismdaydream]

no no i see the vision - nanami teaching yuji patience… discipline. yuuji who’s so eager and excited and nanami just reigns him in, its unspoken but nanami is in charge and when his voice cuts through the moans and whimpers as yuuji gets carried away…..

anon i am kissing u omg thank u...

this is so messy but my brain just kept going ! so um ramble under the cut :3

yeah exactly like. the first time yuji meets you, he absolutely falls in love. doesn't even realize it, he just becomes obsessed with you. you just look so cute and perfect.. soft little dog ears and that cute little tail that always wags so fast... you're so affectionate too, licking and kissing yuji as soon as nanami introduces him to you. because of course, if your owner trusts yuji, then he must be a good person.

i think nanami knows he has to go away for a longer mission, knows that he can't leave you alone for that long, so he asks yuji to do him a favor, to take care of his puppy. not only is yuji eager to please his mentor (i thought i told you not to call me that.), but hes always been curious to spend more time with you, so he easily agrees and finds himself packing his stuff to stay with you. (nanami is not letting his sweet puppy stay with yuji in his own apartment - he's seen how yuji lives)

and because you're so precious to nanami, he takes the time to show yuji how exactly to take care of you - what you are going to expect from the pink haired sorcerer. when you eat and what you like to eat, how to help you bathe and get dressed and how you like your hair brushed, anything to make sure your schedule doesn't get messed up. your owner might spoil you a bit, but can you blame him? (i think nanami just wants to take care of someone, so he does spoil and baby you a bit, but you don't complain one bit)

yuji listens intently to everything nanami says, wanting to earn your trust and prove himself to his mentor even more. he blushes when nanami mentions bathing, though the older man says that you should be able to do it on your own, sometimes you still ask for help - something your owner could never refuse.

the puppy-sitting for lack of a better word, goes relatively smoothly. yuji gives nanami updates for when he can check his phone and on the night before your owner comes home, you video call him. nanami's face instantly relaxes as you come on screen, grinning from ear to ear. you tell him how much you love yuji (not as much as you love nanami of course), hugging his arm and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, and you ask if yuji can visit more.

and nanami, never able to say no when you look at him with those big eyes and pouty lips, allows yuji to spend more time with you. it works out because nanami sometimes doesn't have the energy after long work days to give you the attention you deserve and ask for. so yuji steps in. yuji has a bit more free time and a lot more energy to play with you and take you out around the city.

but then, your heat hits you when nanami is at work. he asked yuji to check on you and tell you that he'll be home an hour or so late. yuji finds you in nanami's room, hips frantically humping his pillow as you whine and cry. he immediately calls nanami and tells him what he saw (apologizing because he feels guilty, especially because he might've stared longer than he should've..), but instead of getting berated like yuji believed he would, nanami asks him if he could comfort you in some way. just until nanami could get home and properly take care of you.

thats how you ended up grinding your drippy cunt on yuji's thigh, his cock straining against his shorts as he tries desperately to not lose control. nanami said he could do anything that you asked him to (within reason) but yuji still felt guilty, felt like he was taking advantage of you. you whine and pant, drool falling from your mouth as you get off for the nth time, though it's still not enough. you're about to try begging yuji to fuck you again when nanami comes home, your ears instantly perking up as you hear the lock jingle, though you don't run towards him like yuji expected. no, you keep grinding your hot core on him.

and nanami doesn't stop you either. he asks you how you feel, big hands gentle on your overheated face as you cry out for more, tears springing in your eyes. yuji feels entirely out of place, feels like he's intruding, but you bury your face in his neck and plead for him to help you. "p-please, need to be fucked, yuji, please."

you sound so pretty, how could either of them deny you? so nanami instructs yuji on exactly what you like, his fist around his thick cock as he watches the pink haired sorcerer slide himself into you, his eyes fluttering shut at the warmth surrounding his length. yuji wants to move fast, needs to move fast with the way you're squeezing him, but nanami's stern voice makes him savor it. telling him to go slower, to make sure that you really feel everything yuji's giving you. and yuji always listens to nanami (well, as much as he can..), so he does. he slows his hips, full and lazy thrusts that make each inch feel even longer, each drag against your spongy spot even more intense. nanami tells yuji to spit on his hand and rub your clit, so yuji spits and rubs, keen eyes watching your expressions to find the right movement.

the way your pussy tightens around him when you cum makes him grit his teeth, a hiss slipping through as he tries to not bust his load. but god, you feel so good. you look so pretty, too. it feels like an eternity before your walls relax, letting him slip out. he's done this before, always pulls out and strokes his cock to finish, it's what's expected of him. but nanami's voice stops him once again.

"did i tell you to stop?"

[nena-la-fresa]

All Night Long | Bad Ending

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

All Night Long | Good Ending | /// All Night Long | Neutral Ending |

Pairing: Josh Washington x f! Reader

Warning: Kidnapping | Tiny bit of Yandere Josh | Smut | Oral | P in V | Hallucinations | Mention of Cannibalism | Wendigo Josh | Angst |

Word Count: 2716

A/n: Bare with me again, the beginning is a short repeat of the Neutral Ending. Also threw in some references that I am obsessed with, so hopefully someone notices which ones they are. 

Your body ached. Your head was pounding. You tried moving but you felt your hands and legs tied to something. 

“What the fuck.” You tried to wiggle your way out, “What the fuck.” You felt tears start to build up. 

“Help!” You screamed but it felt like you weren’t loud enough. “Help!” 

You started to look around the room to see if there was anything to help you escape. All there was were tvs. You looked closer and saw they were recordings of Josh’s place. There was one screen that caught your eye. It was Ashely, Chris and Josh. Only Ashely and Josh were tied up. And Chris, he turned a switch. You turned away before you could see it but the sound was horrific. All you could hear were Josh’s screams as he got cut in half. You began sobbing at this point. 

“Help!” Your cries were desperate at this point. 

You couldn’t tell how much time had passed since you saw that video but you grew tired of screaming. No one was going to help you. You didn’t even know where you were. 

The door swung open, you watched as the man who took you came in. He slammed the door behind him. 

“Who the fuck does he think he is? First he says that stupid shit to me. And then he picks Ashely over me? That just proves where his loyalties fucking lies. To his fucking dick. I fucking knew it. You knew he would have fucked you right? If he had the chance he would have. It doesn’t even matter that I’m his best friend. He knows I love you. But he would do it if he could, if you gave him the green light he would. And Ashely is just his second option if he can’t get you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Ever since High School, it didn’t even matter that I met you first. That we did almost everything together. What a fucking liar.” 

You felt like you had been holding your breath. You were confused about what was going on. On who this person was. 

But then he took off the mask. He got on his knees in front of you. “You have to thank me for that. You will, right? I saved you from having to deal with him. I showed you who he really was. I had to protect you. Who knows what he would have done to you.” 

You flinched when he placed his hands on your thighs. “Josh.” Tears started to pour down your eyes again. “Josh, what's going on? What did you do? Where am I Josh?” 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to cry. I told you I’d keep you safe.” He placed his hand on your face and wiped a tear away. 

“Josh, I saw you die. What the fuck was that. How-how are you still alive? How do I know you're real? How do I know I’m not going crazy? I can’t even feel you. Josh please, please just untie me. Josh please. I don’t like this.” 

“I can’t.” He stood up and walked over to the tvs. “I’m not done.” 

“Done with what?” 

“You’ll see. Just stay here. You’ll be fine. I’ll come get you when it’s over.” He puts his mask back on. 

“Josh, please you can’t leave me in here.” You could tell he hesitated for a moment. He walked back over and bent down. 

He cupped your face in his palms, he kissed your lips. He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. Weirdly it felt like there was tension, and like he was holding back from something.

“Thank you for always being there for my sisters when I was in the hospital. And for not making me feel crazy. You’re like the only person out of all of them to be decent. That’s why I had to lock you up. I couldn’t do that to you.” 

He again wiped the tears from your eyes and left. All you could do was just sit there. No matter how much you tried to escape the chair it was no use. He had locked you in tight. At a certain point you had just given up. You occasionally watched as Josh terrorized the group through the cameras. Really you didn’t know how long you had been there. What, maybe three hours or four? You had begun to think that there was no way anyone was going to find you. But that was when you had heard mumbling coming from outside the door. 

“Help!” You had no idea who it was but you hoped it was the group. “Somebody help me!” 

The talking stopped, “Did you guys hear that?” 

“No.” 

“What was it?”

You tried to scream louder, “Please! Can anyone hear me!” 

“See right there!” 

“I swear to god. If that’s you guys please get me out of here!” You started to shake your restraints out of frustration. 

“Is that Y/n?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“Well open the door already!” 

The door was pushed open with force. You were so glad to see them, Chris stood in front of the door shocked, but Sam and Ashely were the first ones to help get you out of the chair.

“Jesus Y/n. How long have you been here?” Sam helped you up out of the chair.

“Well, probably since we got to the lodge.” They all looked at you like you were crazy.

“So you don’t know what��s happening?”

“No, I know that Josh is off his meds and is terrorizing you all. He said he was coming back but he hasn’t come back since. Where is he?”

Sam looked at you with concern, “Is that all you know?” 

You looked at her confused, “Yeah. Why what else happened?”

“I'm going to go look for Mike, something took Josh. But Ashely and them are going to go back to the lodge they'll explain everything on the way there.” Sam started to separate from the others. 

“What no. What happened to Josh?” You walked after her. 

“Is that really what you’re concerned about? He just helped you captive.” Emily scoffed a bit. 

“Well clearly he isn’t well Emily. I’m not just going to leave him and let you guys go looking for him without me. He needs help.” 

“Okay well I’m not going to stop you. But we have to go now if we want to catch up with Mike.” 

“Alright.” You followed Sam as she caught you up on everything that’s happened. 

You two had finally found Mike, and made your way down into the mines. It took a bit but you guys came to a stop, Sam had found Hannah’s diary. It made your heart sink, it felt like you were hit with more guilt. Like you all didn’t do enough to find them. Maybe if they looked harder Hannah still could still be here with you guys. Mike made you guys keep going. 

You kept going until you heard yelling. It sounded like Josh's voice. Mike walked through the door first trying to get his attention. You watched as Josh help his head and was screaming at the air. 

“I don’t take orders from you, you can’t tell me what to do. You can’t tell me what to do anymore. You can't tell me what to do.” His sobbing stopped and his behavior changed. “Okay. Okay. I trust you. I trust you. I trust you.” 

You tried holding back your tears. Josh started exclaiming. 

“What’s the matter with him Mike?” Sam watched as Mike approached Josh. 

“He’s tripping or something.” That was when Mike slapped him.

Josh snapped out of it, “M-mike?” 

“Josh, hey man.”

Josh backed up a bit and reached for Mike to stabilize himself. “Don’t h-hit me p-please.” 

After Josh had settled a bit, Sam had tried to tell him about Hannah and her letters but Mike shut her down. It wasn’t the moment to tell him about how his sister literally ate her twin. 

That was when Josh had noticed you standing there. “Y/n, h-how did you get out? I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have locked you in there. I never came back.”

Even if he did what he did you couldn’t hate him. Not when he was in a state like this. You hugged him, “It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay. Let’s just get you out of here.” 

They ask Josh if he had the key to the cable cart. You all were trying to find a way out and Sam had suggested climbing a wall. But you all knew Josh wouldn’t be able to climb up that way. Sam suggested to go tell the others that you were all okay. 

The three of you walked back from the way you came, only this time you stayed close to Josh. You tried your best to prevent Josh from seeing the hanging body, but you could hear him whispering no quietly. You finally reached the water, you went in second to Mike, you stayed a bit behind to make sure Josh got in just fine. 

It was all going well before Mike got dragged underneath the water. You tried looking for him and turned your back on Josh. That was when you heard Josh screaming “You’re not real!” 

You felt a hand wrap around your mouth and the other around your waist. You were yanked behind a wall. All you could hear was Josh’s screams. 

“Hannah? Oh! Oh! No! No!”

You tried to push yourself off Mike but he wouldn’t budge. He didn’t let you go until Josh’s screams were distant. 

You whisper yelled, “What the fuck Mike!”

He scoffed, “Are you serious right now Y/n? That thing would have fucking killed you.”

“And that thing took Josh! Are we just supposed to walk away now?”

“Yes! There is nothing we can do for him now. He’s dead.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “No. No he’s not. You can go back but I’m going back for him. I’m not leaving him down here.”

Mike looked at you in disbelief, “Are you serious?” 

“Yes Mike. Because I love him. You went after Jessica after she got fucking dragged out into the woods. Why would I not do the same for him? I can’t leave him.”

Mike hugged you, it felt like this was the last time he thought he’d see you. “Alright. I’m going back. I’ll tell them you went back for him.” 

You nodded, “Be safe.” 

You began to make your way across the body of water to get back to Josh. Mike watched as you disappeared into the tunnel again. 

Mike didn’t stop running, he felt out of breath but he knew if he stopped he might die. But he saw Sam. She was trying to open the door, as soon as she broke the window and they got in that was when she asked the inevitable question.

“Mike, what happened to Josh? What about Y/n?”

Mike shook his head, “It got him. And I couldn’t bring her. She wouldn’t leave him, I tried forcing her but she just wouldn’t leave.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, “What an awful way to go. It isn’t your fault, I just hope she can make it out of there.” 

“Josh! Josh!” Josh looked up, he heard you calling his name. You came running up to him. He watched as you knelt down. Your hands cupping his face, he watched as tears ran down your face. 

“Oh thank god you’re okay. I looked everywhere for you.” You leaned in closer and kissed him on the lips. His thoughts cleared, he no longer heard his psychiatrist's words in his head. He wasn’t alone, he had you. You were here for him. You came back for him. 

“I thought you left me.” He touched your face, he wiped away your tears. 

You shook your head, “No. I could never leave you. I love you Josh.” 

He pulled you in and kissed you deeply, it took him a second to pull away. “How do I know you’re real?” 

He heard you laugh lightly, “I’m here for you Josh. See I’m real.” 

Josh felt you move his hand from your face down to your neck. He moved along with his hands. His lips moved down to your neck. He felt your warmth, the way your hand was on top of his. How you guided him so gently. He hadn’t felt love and affection like this for a while. 

For the first time in a while he felt loved. He didn’t feel so alone. He felt you with him. He could feel the way you dragged his hands down into your pants. He could feel your insides warm, he could feel how wet you were. He felt you dragging your hand down his chest, how you started to remove his clothes. How you took his length in his hand, how you pumped his dick with such care. With such love. He heard you moan in his ear. 

He could hear you whispering I love you. How warm those words felt to him. He heard you whisper how you wanted it in. How you helped guide him inside of you. He felt you pulsating around him. How tight you had been. As if you had been waiting for him all of your lives. You had grown up together. Always liked each other in silence. But he never said anything for fear of scaring you away. That was the last thing he wanted, but yet he still distanced himself from you. If only he knew what he had known now. That you still would have loved him with whatever he had. That he would never be alone with you by him. He would always have a part of you in him. You would have his heart. And he had yours. 

He felt your legs wrap around his waist, sucking him in and never letting him go. He felt himself going deeper within you. He loved the way it made you moan. He wished he could hear that all the time. Had things had been different maybe he could have. If he had gotten the help he had needed he could have lived a somewhat normal life with you. 

He heard your whispers of his name. “Josh”

He hummed to hearing his name, he held your legs softly. “I want you to eat me Josh.” 

His eyebrows frowned, he opened his eyes and looked down at you. He watched as your hands moved down your chest to your pussy. “I want you to eat me Josh. Bones and all.” 

Josh nodded, you pulled him in for a kiss. He let the kiss linger before kissing his way down your stomach. He felt you shiver. He found his way to your pussy. He kisses around your thighs before kissing around your folds. He laps at your drenched folds. He ignored the metallic taste and tried to focus on the sweetness you provided him. He felt like his hunger had been fulfilled. Yet he couldn’t get enough. But felt something hot running down his face. 

He tasted salt, it had distracted him from your sweet taste. He no longer felt your warmth, he no longer felt you in his arms. All he felt was the coldness that the cave provided. He felt the vast emptiness of it all. The only heat he felt was your blood on his hands. He felt the heat of your heart in his hand. He looked at your lifeless body, the hole in your chest, your dead eyes looking back at him. More tears ran down his face as he was hit with the realization that you were gone. 

His hands became shaky, he dropped your heart. He gently lifted your head up. He wrapped his arms around your lifeless body. He felt his body begin to shake. His silent cries became agonizing sobs. The only words that left his lips were no and your name. Yet no one would hear his desperate pleas. He was in fact alone, finally faced with his biggest fear. Isolation. Not even your dead body could provide him with the comfort that he needed. 

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Yall don’t understand how obsessed I am with Danny messing with the Justice League. Like just pranking them mad wild. Or “haunting” them.

Maybe it starts as a mistake. Someone was getting close to him and he just vanished. Maybe he was walking around one of their cities cause he wanted to “see how a real hero does it” but tried to stay out of the way.

Hes following Superman and doesn’t realise hes been had. Superman keeps seeing this odd child on the edge of his vision. It’s only weird because of how quickly he is traveling. He should be followed like this. So he tests it out and flys off to somewhere far off, but secluded. Edge of some farm land would work. Trying to not give it away he doesn’t make a show of looking for the boy. He then spots him. His eyes slightly glowing as he stands in the edge of the woods. Clark focused on the boy and hears slight breaths but nothing else. Which he should have realised sooner was wrong.

He returned to the team to report this odd being following him. To also warn everyone else to be on look out just incase.

Weirdly enough it was the Flash who noticed him next. Even weirder was that he could never get close. Even with his speed which was alarming.

Cyborg started seeing the kid too. He tried using cameras to get a better look at him but nothing ever showed up. Always missing was the boy from the video. Sometimes the whole video would get distort.

Wonder Woman probably got the closest as she used a fight to get “thrown” in his direction. She got close enough to see worry about her. He seemed so concerned and like he was going to step in until he met her gaze. A whole new kind of fear crossed his features. Then he was gone.

Everyone of the main team (and even some not) reporting in of spotting the kid except for Batman. And he looked. He tried everything to see if he was being followed like the rest but nothing. He read their reports on their encounters and tried to emulate it but never saw the boy. Maybe it was all a big prank being pulled on him? He couldn’t rule it out. Still he kept up constant watch.

Then one night he was out and got into a fight. Distracted by looking for the kid he got messy. Or maybe the criminals got desperate but he didn’t notice the rocket launcher being targeted on him in time and it fired. Only then did he notice it. No time to fully get out of the way he braced for the worst. When all of a sudden a body slammed into him shoving him out of the way of the blast. They rolled onto the ground. Bruce quickly recovered and looked for his saviour. On the ground, blown slightly to his left by the explosion was a black haired teen in a white t-shirt. Before he could move the boy groaned and looked right at Bruce. The haunting blue eyes meeting his even with the mask in the way the boy knew just where to look. He was about to speak when the boys eyes went wide with fear and then nothing. The boy just vanished into this air. Bruce didn’t have much time to be stunned by this as the thugs before started to cheer, thinking they had finished off the Bat. So he went to make quick work of them before any could get away. Well now he knows hes being followed too

Danny just freaking out about Batman seeing his face. Turns out he never followed Batman unless fully invisible. All he wanted was to see how “real” heros did it. And it had been helping him with his fighting. To see how the pros are. He was always worried the “worlds greatest detective” would figure him out though so he stayed hidden. Also maybe hes a bit of a fan. I made Wonder Woman get the closest cause shes his fav probably.

[bratphilia]

his bunny (w. afton x reader)

request: "hii!! i have been obsessed with your lillard!afton fics lately and i just have to ask you to write another. i was wondering if you could do something like afab! reader is a student in college and william is her engineering professor? she is purposefully failing his class just to get his attention and some “extra credit”. but little does she know william has been obsessed with her ever since she stepped foot in his class. if it helps, teachers pet by melanie martinez could have a huge influence on this. thank you so so much!! ♡♡"

note: thank you so much, i'm glad you've been enjoying the content i've been putting out! fun fact i was obsessed with this song when k-12 first came out. also professor!william has been on my mind recently so i'm glad you requested this!! the e-mail section is a little awkward because i absolutely hate using "y/n"

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: age gap (reader is college age 18-21 and william is 45-50), creepy and stalking behavior from william, oral sex (m receiving), facial, dirty talk, slut-shaming, mean dom!william, desk sex

engineering. your worst class. not because you were bad at it or anything. it was all your professor.

and no, not because he's a bad teacher either. he's just so fucking hot it makes your brain go fuzzy every time he speaks. he lectures with his large hands enthusiastically. he always wears some form of purple on him, whether it's a tie or his slacks. everything about him is so intoxicating.

but he's never noticed you.

not when you try to catch his eye before and after class. not when you greet him with a "good morning, sir." and every time you've attended his office hours, a fucking ta helps you every single time. it's making you go crazy, not getting what you want.

you even started to wear increasingly skimpier outfits. you always stick to a theme of a sexy school girl, even going as far enough to buy more short skirts and thigh high socks or leg warmers. the buttons of the blouses you wear paired with them are always unbuttoned just to show a peak of cleavage. you ignore the hungry and curious eyes of your other peers as you walk by them; it's not their attention you want. still, you feel a little silly putting in all this effort just for him to barely grumble a reply back to you at your futile efforts to talk to him.

so you put a plan in action. you either purposefully turn in every piece of homework late and answer most, if not all, the questions of your quizzes and mid-term until you're sure you're at the very bottom of the class grades-wise.

in fact, you wake up the day after your mid-term to an e-mail from professor raglan. the subject was titled "Meeting Request" with your name addressed at the beginning.

"I would like to arrange a meeting with you to discuss the current state of your progress in my class. After your most recent assessment and previous assignments, I'm concerned about your future in my class if you continue the pattern I am seeing reflected in your work. Let me know if tonight at 5:00pm works for you.

Thank you,

Professor Raglan"

any regular person's heart would have sunk to the pit of their stomach if they received that e-mail. however, you are not a normal person. your heart fucking soars. you immediately jump to respond in confirmation.

professor raglan knows better than to get caught up with students, but he just can't help it! you're too beautiful to ignore.

the craziest part is he knows what game you're playing. the outfits that reflect nothing but a stereotypical, sexy school girl you would see in a porn video. and especially the way your grades have dropped recently, when you started off being one of the brightest students in his class.

over time, he noticed your lack of participation in class. at first, he chalked it up to something more serious, like personal issues. and then he noticed those lingering stares, the way you chew your pen, twirl your hair, and rub your thighs together. he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's been ignoring you on purpose. he wants you to chase after him, to let him know what you really want, but you just won't. he partially doesn't blame you either, it would be highly inappropriate for a student to engage that way towards their professor. so he ignores you during class. he barely acknowledges the way you've tried to grab his attention.

steve more than reciprocates your feelings. in fact, he's probably more enamored with you than you can possible imagine. he has all your homework, your essays, even your mid-term saved digitally in a folder, with your name as the title, on his computer. he reads looks over them when he's taking a break from grading as a way to detox, which sometimes ends up in him masturbating thinking about you. he loves to read the failed work from his dumb little bunny.

he even followed you home once. he kept close distance away from you, hiding in the shadows of every corner you turned. it's the william in him that wants that does the stalking, he convinces himself. the hyde to his jekyll; his true self coming to show in the role he plays of an average college professor, a totally normal guy with a few quirks.

your room, conveniently let him catch a peep of you touching yourself, and you swore you saw you mouth the word 'professor' when you brought yourself to orgasm.

and so he decides to play your little game. after all, you created the perfect opportunity for him, and he's going to take the bait.

steve sits at his desk, grading the rest of the mid-term papers, while he awaits your arrival. your own paper is sitting separate from the other stack, easily accessible so the two of you can get straight to "talking" about it as soon as possible.

he hears a tell-tale knock at his door, and he tries not to answer with a smile in his voice as he calls out, "come in."

you open the door gingerly, and it takes everything in him not to eye you up and down, but at first glance he knows you're in your usual get-up. it's a pretty little number; white, short-sleeved blouse, black pleated skirt that stops around mid-thigh, and white socks that reach just above your knees. you smile at him, hands clasped behind your back, puffing forward your chest slightly.

"good evening, professor raglan," you say in an oh-so innocent tone, "you wanted to speak with me?"

god, the way you call him professor goes straight to his cock. "yes. sit down," he tells you, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk.

you sit down and your professor clasps his hands, leaning back in his chair. "i hope my e-mail didn't worry you. this will be quick."

he watches your face fall at his last few words and he has to bite back his amusement. "you see," he starts, taking your paper and pretending to look at your paper, "you didn't answer a single thing correctly. everything was wrong. it's funny, because i've heard nothing but good reports from the ta's that have helped you during office hours."

you lean closer as he continues. a plethora of excuses come to mind, none of which seem adequate for the situation he's putting it. "so i'm just wondering, how dumb do you think i am?"

your mouth slightly falls open. that was not the reaction you intended to invoke from him. "i—i can explain, i just need more—"

he rolls his eyes. "don't give me that. i'm not an idiot like you clearly are."

if anyone else had called you an idiot, you would have been offended, but from him? it goes straight to your pussy.

you purse your lips and rub your thighs together, waiting for him to continue to berate you. "is it extra credit you want?"

"yes, professor," you answer.

"then get on your knees, slut."

he rolls his chair back to make room for you and watches as you make your way in front of him. you get on your knees as he instructed, waiting expectantly.

"do i have to do everything for you?" he sighs in faux disappointment. he loves your shocked reaction that this is even really happening to you. "you wanted this so take my cock out."

"no, professor," you mumble, reaching for the buttons of his slacks. there's an obvious bulge tenting in his pants that almost makes you salivate.

you pull out his cock from his boxers and he shivers at how cold your hands are. you must be freezing wearing that outfit, he realizes. and, fuck, are your hands so much smaller that his. you begin by pumping him and then reach to kitten lick his tip.

you start to suck on the tip and he sucks air between his teeth sharply. it feels like heaven but he can't take your teasing anymore. he grasps your hair, making a make shift ponytail, and guides your mouth to slowly lower down on his cock. you moan around him causing a pleasurable vibration. he continues to use your hair as a way to control your mouth moving in a slow, up and down motion.

"ah — shit — stay still for me, yeah, baby?" he asks breathlessly. you do as he says, keeping your neck still as he begins to thrust into your mouth.

he bucks into you, grunting about what a "tight mouth you have" and how "you're such a dirty whore for your professor." you moan around his cock at his words, only encouraging his movements. the gurgling and gawk noises coming from your throat make him impossibly harder. the grasp on your hair becomes tighter and his thrusts more erratic. he's close.

before steve comes, he moves your mouth off and begins pumping himself. you watch him eagerly as he never breaks eye contact from you. when he does, it's when he shuts his eyes and groans, spurts of his come painting your face, your neck, and top.

you look so beautiful like this, he thinks, but it comes out as, "you look like such a messy whore."

you blush and lick the ejaculate around your mouth. steve grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet. you feel a little unstable but he's pushing you face forward against his desk. he lifts your skirt, which he doesn't bother taking off, only to reveal your thong. of course.

"were you expecting this?" he asks with a chuckle. he pulls your thong and lets it snap against your ass, making you yelp.

"no, but i came prepared," you say boldly.

he tsks. "such a slut."

steve prods his cock at your entrance, making you wiggle your hips when he slides it up and down your slit. you wish he would just stick it in already, but he's bent on teasing you until you can't take it anymore. he wants you to beg for him.

he moves your hair to the side to whisper in your ear. "tell me what you want, bunny."

you whimper at the close proximity. you can feel his beard brushing against your cheek. "need your cock, sir. been wanting it for awhile."

"oh, i know," he says, and you can feel the smile spreading across his face. "just wanted to hear you say it."

with that he presses inside of you, filling you up inch by inch, agonizingly slow. you whine desperately, wanting more. your fingers dig into the desk. he slips out for a moment and slams back in, filling you to the hilt. from that point forward, he starts thrusting at gradually faster pace.

the room is obscenely filled with the sounds of both of your pants and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. he punctuates every thrust with a degrading phrase. it gets you even hotter.

before you know it you're close. clawing behind you, desperate to grab something, he takes both of your hands and holds them against the desk, giving a flurry of hard, fast thrusts. moans and whines tumble from your lips as you feel your body completely captured by an orgasm that makes you weak in the knees.

steve pulls out and comes on your back with a groan himself, incoherently slurring words of "whore" "slut" and "dumb bunny." he buries his face in the crook of your neck, attitude completely doing a 360.

"you did so well for me, sweetheart."

[holdinbacksecrets]

svt finds out you were married before you met them

anon… this request is golden. thank you so much for sending it! i had the best time writing these 🤍

seventeen find out you were married before being with them

seungcheol: he’s at the bodega around the corner because you’re out of… he forgot the excuse. luckily, it was mumbled and difficult to make out, so he’ll bring back coffee. his palms are sweating and he looks up at the ceiling as if the answer’s in between the popcorn. now, you’re his. he’s yours. you’re one. but you were someone else’s, and that idea isn’t new to him, but knowing that someone was your husband makes it feel different. he looks up again. “please give me something here.” a light flickers. he leaves without the coffee

jeonghan: he stops to watch you spoon strawberry jam onto slices of toast. they’re golden brown triangles beside scrambled eggs, and you’re making sure the bright red covers the golden brown surface perfectly, just like you always do. the only red he can think about is the blood his heart is pumping, and the fact that his heart stopped pumping for a moment or two

joshua: “now everything makes sense.” “what do you mean?” “sometimes you’re just too good at being my partner.” “that has nothing to do with being married before. i’m literally just in love and obsessed with you. actually, being married did make me strict about the dishes. i’ll never go to bed with a pile in the sink.” “baby, you won’t go to bed if there’s a spoon in the sink or a crumb on the countertop.” “and how good does it feel to wake up and see a clean kitchen, hmm?”

jun: he’s confused. he’s wearing it, swallowing it, holding it in his gaze, and suddenly wondering how well he knows you— why it took you so long to tell him

soonyoung: “i knew it was a mistake by the next morning. i woke up craving my mom’s pancakes.” “have her send us the recipe.” you squeeze his hand and bow your head so your lips can brush its palm. “don’t worry, history won’t repeat itself.”

wonwoo: the photo album’s on his lap. it feels like a fever dream to look at you. you watch the sky through the window, craving color after too much black and white. “i’m mad at myself.” “why?” “i should’ve waited for you.”

jihoon: the ring came rolling out of its hiding spot and stopped in the middle of your bedroom floor. the sunlight caught it. he blinked a million times, felt his lips part too. you let it be. you exhaled, feeling relieved to part with the secret. finally

seokmin: “look at me. do i look upset?” “no… you eyes are all shiny��� like he might cry. “it means a lot that you told me.” “i shouldn’t have waited so long.” “you really didn’t wait that long.” “are you sure you’re ok? do you… am i…” “yes.”

mingyu: the words come out on a sunday morning in the park near your place. your head’s on his shoulder. his hand’s on your thigh; it’s warm and the slightest bit rough—different from the cool, soft breeze on your cheek, on the back of your neck. he asks about your happiness and when it left the space you created with your ex. he wants to know what he can do to make sure that never happens again. he wants to make sure he’s not missing anything

minghao: he’s watching you. there’s gentle love in his eyes. he’s hoping you’ll look up and away from the sudsy dishes for just a moment long enough to realize he’s not mad. to realize it doesn’t change anything

seungkwan: he wonders about your wedding dress and if you still have it. he wonders about pictures and videos and the expression on your face at the altar. moments he’s dreamed about are already existing in memories, have already been seen by your loved ones, might be sour in your head. would you do it all again? do you even want to?

vernon: “i can’t help but wonder how many people make the same mistake as me… think something’s love when it’s not.” “do you really think of it as a mistake?” “pretty sure that’s just a fact.” “i’m not so sure… aren’t you the same person who’s told me for years that everything happens for a reason?” “maybe i just tell myself that to lessen the blow.” “possibly, but maybe it’s true. maybe that step that you think was in the wrong direction was crucial. i wouldn’t have found you any other way.”

chan: “i feel like i shouldn’t be looking at this… it’s like i’m seeing your dress before i’m supposed to. i shouldn’t know what you’ll look like walking down the aisle.” “this isn’t who i am anymore. think of how much time has passed. i have brand new skin now.” “…i thought you were going to say something romantic.”

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— AN INTRODUCTION TO CREATIVE CAPTIVITY

SUMMARY : dean wants to know more about you and takes matters into his own hands when you don’t show up at his bakery. unreasonably, he doesn’t expect you to come back home early, but his mission was mostly successful.

PAIRING : vampire!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none 

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), baker!dean, stalking (it’s only hot if dean does it), angst, unhealthy obsession, yandere!Dean, possessiveness, soft Dean, implied panty kink, creepiness escalates, nerdy reader, reader isn’t perfect, (vague) chronic illness, voyeurism, b&e, stealing, slow chapter, and more to come

WORD COUNT : 6.6k

A/N : this chapter will lead up to the square stockholm syndrome on my @jacklesversebingo card. no baking :’(. heheh, Dean’s a lot softer and way more caring than the typical psycho-yandere type maybe some of yall were thinking of. I did research on yandere types and yandere traits, and found that it’s completely acceptable! in fact, a soft yandere is preferred, LOL. xx

Over the years Dean found that the perks of being undead included not having to sleep. That meant there were no nightmares to haunt him.. and now, that he had all the time in the world to watch you, to research you, first.

You were a fluffy cloud of love that became his companion through the sleepless, endless night. He knew seeing you again would feel like an eternity had passed, so he indulged in thoughts of you to keep him company.

He was home now and he had nothing to do as the moon bled through the windows of the place he “lived” in. He laid in his bed, unable to shut his brain off for the pretence of a peaceful sleep that he enjoyed doing routinely ever since he was a… vampire. 

His four hours of nothingness. 

He had too much time on his hands. 

He’d already read over a thousand books, watched over a thousand films and series, scrolled through the endless stream of videos on social media, and attempted to get good at hundreds of hobbies. What was the point of it anymore, after all?

Now, he thought of you. And that was the only point that made any sense to him. The only thing that mattered in his useless life. The only reason why he even wanted the sun to rise and bring another day. 

If it meant that he was able to see you again. To know everything about your existence. Then, it all mattered. The world needed to keep spinning and the world needed to be safe, for you. 

He took his phone from the nightstand and appreciated the wallpaper of his beautiful Impala. He was uncomfortably restless. He wanted to keep thinking of you, but he also wanted to shut his brain off. He couldn’t creep you out, it would ruin everything. He stared at the numbers telling the time, 1:24 AM. 

You were probably asleep by now. 

He wondered about you again. What position did you sleep in? What colour were your sheets? What was the texture of them? Did you use multiple blankets? Were you cold, often? Were your hands and feet always the only thing that was cold? Did you not suffer that way at all? Did you wear socks to sleep? What was the temperature of your home? Did you wear baggy clothes to sleep? Or something sexy? Or something cute? What was the colour of your walls? How did you decorate your home? Was it fun? Minimalistic? Did your house already smell like you again?

He cared so much about every tiny detail of your life and the place you called home. He itched to just get out of bed and find where you lived to see for himself. 

But for now, he lifted himself up slightly to rest against the headboard of his bed and unlocked his phone to find you wherever he could. He felt embarrassed to do so, but he searched your name on every app, including the dating ones he never removed despite being… Well, he hadn’t had sex since he became a vampire. He was terrified of anything bad happening to the women he slept with. 

The thought made him freeze. Would he lose control with you? Would he ever hurt you? His mind overflowed with images of your blood and him standing above you. He would die before he ever hurt you. He shook the thoughts away, remembering Lenore, and the handful of monsters that coexisted peacefully with humans. 

He could be with you. You could be his. 

You were all he could think about. It’s a shock that he hadn’t shoved his hands in his pants and pleasured himself just thinking of you. He would have, but he felt it would be disrespectful to you. 

He did try to relieve himself with those sexy vampire women in the past, but he just didn’t feel any sort of attraction towards them because so few of them even cared about humans. It was unbecoming. They were arrogant, indifferent, and it wasn’t even sexy. He just couldn’t get it “up” with bloodsuckers. So, what? He was still prejudiced and all that. Whatever, he spent most of his time as a vampire still hunting. 

He killed the entire nest and hunted down anyone that managed to slip through his fingers. He tried his hardest to keep being a hunter, with Sam’s brain protected with a wall, he had hope, a reason to keep going. But that was all gone, his family was gone: Sam, Cas. 

When word spread that he was a vampire, and it did—like a nuclear bomb—the fallout was massive. Somehow, the fear of the Winchesters was hundred-fold, even though, in all his time as a vampire, Dean hadn’t slipped up even once. 

He didn’t know how he did it. 

He really just did. 

He remembered the devouring thirst of being around humans when he was in the process of turning, while he looked for the leech that bled into his mouth for the cure Samuel and Sam were waiting to have confirmed. He could smell every human’s blood, taste the delicious quench of it in the air, and he somehow walked straight past every one. And when that one vamp opened the fridge to feed him a pick-me-up, the scent of it was overpowering, but never quite enough for his stubborn ass.

He declined and carried on with the mission, but the world had other plans for him. When he found the guy that turned him, of course he knew that Dean hadn’t fully turned; he was the leader of the nest, after all. He was smart and didn’t let Dean make any move unless he drained one of the women he didn’t find useful for the nest. 

He refused but the leader of the nest didn’t take no for an answer, and once again, forced Dean to feed on one of the women in the cages. Dean remembered that way it felt, the taste of warm blood soothing the aching dryness in his throat. Dean had planned on biting the poor girl for show and collecting the blood in his mouth to spit it out later, but once it touched his tongue, the bloodlust took over.

He didn’t know what possessed him to stop. Maybe the way the girl whimpered, because she was just a girl. Or the way she pleaded for him to stop with her weak, cracked voice. The way her body slowly sank into him and crumbled limply, but he somehow managed to push her away from him.

She thanked him, even though she was still stuck being a blood bag for the nest. Dean felt guilty, even by just remembering how it all started. His soulless brother, his idiot best friend. How was anyone supposed to know how to handle that situation? 

Dean grieved his human life. Having to abandon Lisa and Ben on top of it all. Then, his brother’s life. And finally, his best friend’s life. 

Sure, Cas was the one who made the mess to begin with, but what was the point of friendship if you couldn’t forgive them for the worst of the worst? Obviously, there was a line, but with the type of life they lived, what Cas had done didn’t cross the line. After all, Cas tried to make amends, even if it was too late. 

Dean could stay mad forever at Cas, but he was going to be ancient some day. What purpose would that hatred serve when everyone was dead? Forgiveness was all he had left to remind him he still had some semblance of humanity.

And right now, he needed to feel human. For you. 

He was more relieved than he cared to admit when he didn’t find you on any dating apps. So, he deleted every single one after he got the answers he was hoping to not find there. 

He hated that your Facebook was more dead than he was. You didn’t have your relationship status updated or your birthday published. There was nothing, just an old photo of you at some Korean restaurant. And even your family members’ accounts were as dry as his throat felt after going days without feeding. They revealed nothing, but he did find your friends: Bela Levante and Daphne Jordan.

But there was hardly anything to see about you on their profiles. God, woman, why did you have to hide yourself so hard?

He carefully scrolled through Instagram and groaned at another obstacle. Your account was private. He wished to stare at photos of you. The numbers on your profile teased him, he could see the amount of followers you had, the number of people you were following, and fuck… 43 posts he could be gazing at like a celebrity’s fanboy. 

He wanted to see everything “private” about your life, your hobbies, flashes, glimpses of your life, pets—if you had any, and everything about your family. All the little things that would have slowly painted you on the empty canvas in his mind. 

Dean shut his phone off with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling being illuminated with the moonlight, creating shadows from the tree that creaked outside by the window. 

How was he supposed to feel about you? What was he supposed to do to get closer to you? Would you see him again the next morning? Or anytime after that? Would he see you in days? Weeks?

Would you think of him at all? Or would you be too busy with your life to do so? Did you even want to see him again? Did you feel the pull he felt towards you? Was he being delusional to think that there could possibly be something between you and him?

He’d have to take matters into his own hands if you prolonged appearing in his life. If he got dozens of women to like him before, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t want him in the same way. He just needed to play his cards right. 

5 Days Later

Coming into your life was more difficult than Dean anticipated.

He went out more than he would have wanted, hoping to find you anywhere in town. So, you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be available for the first couple of days or weeks in town as you tried to settle in. He hoped it was just something you said to avoid Andy.

At least he knew you weren’t lying about that. 

He only saw you once three days ago at the grocery store. He watched you as subtly as he could, his eyes focused on your every move, his ears sharpened to your voice, every atom in his body was attuned to you, his nexus. 

He wished he was standing there next to you, as your boyfriend, a lover, a partner, whatever. As long as you were only his. So he could watch your cute faces when you touched something that you didn’t like, or be there to laugh with you when you giggled at something you saw, or to be there to remind you of something you forgot and had to pull up the list on your phone. He wanted to know what it was like to have another conversation with you, about anything. Was that asking too much?

He didn’t get everything he’d planned on getting when he got there, but at least he had your plates and the car you drove. He wished he was brave enough to have talked to you, to pretend to bump into you. Although it wouldn’t have been much of an act, he really hadn’t expected to see you there.

But there was something raw and real about watching you while you were alone, and in your head as you walked through the most-likely unfamiliar grocery shop. When was the last time you stepped foot in there? You stared at the signs above each aisle with surprise when you’d walk in and didn’t find what you probably would have years ago. 

He made his way to his car and thought of all the ways he could get you to be his. In any way that he could have you. All his ruminations and all his time was devoted to the goal of being with you. So much so that he felt like his entire life was on hold.

He knew it would start up again as soon as you entered his life. However, he hadn’t seen you—well, he hadn’t spoken to you in five days, and he wanted to respect you by letting you have your own space, but it was getting painful for him to be away from you for so long.

He waited to hear the beat of your heart or the sound of your voice being carried through the air and into his bakery, but he was only met with disappointment. Every time the door opened, he wished it was you walking in, he wished it was you smiling and flirting with him like every woman he regularly saw.

But you never showed up. 

Did he make you up in his imagination? Was he that desperate to feel something? Were you real and simply uninterested in him? That thought hurt more than it should have. He thought he’d left a good impression on you, and after you left that hundred dollar bill, his mind didn’t allow him to believe you hated him. In fact, it was the only proof that you were real after all. 

Why couldn’t you be as infatuated with him as he was with you? Why couldn’t you be as interested in him as the women who carved out time for him in their busy lives? 

You were impossible to get close to. His fingertips barely tapped the surface of your life and like a fish, you swam quickly in the opposite direction to evade being captured by him. But didn’t you see you’d be better off with him? Happier? Freer? More loved than you could fathom? More loved than you could ever be with anyone else? More loved than you have ever been loved?

You were on his mind every moment of every day since he met you. Was he nothing to you? How would you feel knowing that everything new he baked was because you had inspired him in his daydreams. He wished he could ask you how it tasted, what you liked, if he should make more of whatever new invention he had created. If he should add it to the menu. He’d make them all again for you to try them and give him these insights and suggestions. 

Mostly, he needed to know more about you. He just couldn’t bear the thought of you being a mystery. Or the fact that you’d never let him into your life to know the things that you inhibited within the safety of your home. Would the things in your house reveal your psyche? That’s all he wanted, to worm his way into you by knowing these things about you. 

Sure, he could be himself, but he needed an advantage first. He needed time with you where it wasn’t obvious he was imposing himself on your life without reason. Where could he accidentally or coincidentally find himself in order to spend time with you? So that it could all fall together perfectly as he has fantasised every waking moment of his existence since he met you.

He could only acquire that information by infiltrating your home. 

Dean didn’t expect this. 

It was all he could think when he tracked down your scent to where you lived—and he relaxed when he didn’t find your car parked in the driveway in front of your home. 

He blinked. 

He was astonished as he gawked at your home. The light of the stunning peach sunset was reflected on the tinted glass that made up the outer walls of your home. Those glass windows, from floor to ceiling, also reflected the breathtaking forest surrounding the area. How convenient that your house was surrounded by thick green trees. 

He stepped closer to your home to the surrounding area, the giant space that was entirely yours. There were a few plants, and despite being grateful about the lack of surveillance, he clicked his tongue in disapproval at the lack of it. 

You needed to be safe. 

He’d have to check out the glass, make sure it was shatter proof and bulletproof—even though there was no reason why your house should be armed against anything like that. He needed to make sure no creeps had made their way to your home, squatters or even people who may be infatuated with you. 

You hypocrite, part of his brain accused. But he huffed, pouting and narrowing his eyes straight ahead at the reflection of himself, scolding his brain for trying to compare him to those who were more selfish and probably more dangerous than him. He pushed the small voice that reminded him that there was nothing scarier or more dangerous than a bloodsucker being around a human. 

Dean pushed every thought away and had to quickly become familiar with the outside of your home before deciding it was safe to enter, to really get to know you. 

Were you going to clean this whole place by yourself? Did you have someone else do it? Did you cook? Or did someone else do that for you, too? He needed to know. How much freedom did he have to be in your home whenever it suited him?

He made his way to the porch and brushed his fingertips against the lock of your door. He may not have had a heart to race at the thought of being where you always were, where you felt safest, but his body still thrummed and tingled with excitement. 

Dean searched his jacket for the pick-set he carried in the inner pocket over his chest. He thought about how he hadn’t picked locks in a while. He didn’t have any reasons to, just the occasional need for it if he caught a case nearby. And ever since he became a vampire, he found that it was easier than before, easier to listen for the clicks of each pin falling as he slowly turned and prodded with his tools. 

He apologised to you under his breath once the door unlocked. 

He shoved the pick-set back into his jacket pocket while standing at the entrance of your home, and deeply inhaled the scent of you rushing outwards to greet him. Yes.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, surprised by the emptiness and the smell of newness that mingled with your sweet aroma. 

You were still way behind on unpacking. 

He found a shoe rack by the entrance and decided to respect your house rules by kicking off his boots and placing them neatly into an empty spot. So, that’s what it would look like if this were his home, too? His shoes, right next to yours. It looked right.

He curled his toes inside his socks, feeling the cool floor against his already cold skin and smiled. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up at the coat rack, making himself at home. He could pretend for a few hours that this was how it always was.

He stepped deeper into your home, looked around and deflated. 

There wasn’t much to explore. Most rooms he walked into were empty, or they had boxes that had yet to be opened by you. Maybe it would scare you if he tried to help by taking everything out, so he left the boxes as you had them. 

Why hadn’t you made yourself at home? It’s been days and you haven't really done much. Was this just part of your indifference or was this because of the secret illness you had? Were you that busy with work? You were pretty vague about it when you were talking to Andy. 

For now, Dean sighed, he knew nothing. 

There was no indication of what was to be your living room. No furniture, no television, no tables. Unless he opened the boxes to peek inside and find out what each room would be, he would have to wait until you got to it yourself. 

At least your kitchen was easy to explore. Though most of the cabinets were empty. Only three glasses, four plates, two bowls… God, woman. Should he get you some things? He shook his head and quickly pulled open every door and drawer to peek inside the completely uninteresting contents. 

But finally, he got to your pantry. You had lots of snacks. Dean chuckled at the type of organisation that you had put them in. By colour. He smiled and reached out to touch them. He missed being hungry for this type of stuff, not that it stopped him from indulging in it every now and then anyway. 

His brain nagged him: Which ones were your favourite? Well, he had to guess that they were all your favourite to some extent. But maybe it was the Rice Krispies, they were nearly all gone. There were some spicy peanuts, too, and some other spicy, but still sweet, Mexican candies he had tried before—some, he hadn’t tried at all. 

His mouth would have watered if he were still alive. 

He snorted, moved on to read each package and box; he needed to try whatever he hadn’t already tried before, just to see if he could have that in common with you.

He didn't have to, but he wanted to be able to say: I have tried it before. At least. Maybe that would mean something to you, maybe it would matter. On the other hand, he already had a lot in common with you—in terms of preference for snacks. He liked your taste. 

He shut the pantry door and opened your fridge.

He pulled out the freezer and lifted a brow at the lack of contents. No frozen, microwaveable food. Just vanilla ice cream, some shrimp, salmon, halibut, and steak. That’s it? He frowned. Did you rarely eat at home or did you already cook whatever else could’ve filled your refrigerator? Maybe he was overthinking it; you looked healthy when he met you and when he saw you at the grocery. But looks could be deceiving—you were sick after all, and he had yet to find out what you had. 

Is that why you became a geneticist? Was your disease genetic?

He closed the freezer and opened the horizontal middle door. He found two bottles of mineral water, four bottles of water, and one can of Sprite. Was there any point to the giant refrigerator if you hardly used it? He snickered. 

After he finished checking out the kitchen—and after washing a bowl with traces of Greek yoghurt, honey, and oats and the spoon you’d used—he began making his way to the next room, trying to find more information about you.

He made a mental note of the softener and detergent you used for laundry and all the other cleaning materials you kept in the laundry room. He checked out the washing machine and dryer to make sure they worked properly—so you wouldn’t have to struggle. 

He frowned the whole time. He wouldn’t be bumping into you at the laundromat, that was slightly disappointing to think about. 

He made his way upstairs, giddy to find your bedroom once he got to the top of the stairs. He held his breath in anticipation after opening each door down the long hallway, always to an empty room, but he exhaled when finally found your room.

Your scent embraced him when he opened your bedroom door. Now, he’d definitely find out things about you that were much more interesting. Much more intimate. 

He was thorough with his search. 

He checked out every item on your shelves and your desk, your figurines and other collectibles. He took a picture of your bookcase to become familiar with your books the next time he visited the library. He opened each drawer and your dresser to review the contents thoroughly, your clothes and keepsakes and trinkets hidden beneath—and stole a pair of your underwear as he bit his lip; he knew it was wrong. 

He made sure to steal your pink lace underwear that didn’t match with a bra you owned. He easily discovered which bras weren’t part of a set and memorised your cup size. You chose comfort over sexiness—even the sexy lace you owned looked comfortable. You were so cute. 

He turned to your closet and examined every article of clothing—which was organised by colour as well. From sexy to cute dresses, old and new t-shirts, sexy and cute cropped shirts, and so much more he wanted to see you wear for himself. He found a few of your scrubs and imagined the way they’d hug your curves, even if they were hidden below a lab coat. You were so sexy. So fucking hot, he couldn’t believe he was touching the things you’d wear at some point.

He went through your shoes to memorise your foot size, but made a mental note of your favourite type of footwear. 

He closed the door and looked over your vanity desk and the limited amount of makeup. Mostly, you had hair products. Gel to enhance the volume, different brushes for different uses, a multi-use hair dryer or something like that, cute hair ties and hair clips and a small bundle of what he’d label as boring; they were just brown, black, and tan hair ties. 

He slipped a brown hair tie onto his wrist—one that was loose from usage. He pocketed the mini-lotion bottle that was half-empty—a miniature version of the larger bottle you owned. And after peaking through your extensive jewellery collection, he stole a thin silver necklace with a cute little charm. 

He searched your nightstand, glanced at your cute lamp, a small mirror, a water bottle and a pill bottle. At the sight of the orange container containing a month’s worth of medication, he instantly picked it up and snapped a quick picture of the name to do research later. He wanted to look out for you. 

He opened your password-locked laptop and the tablet beneath. He wouldn’t be getting into those anytime soon. He had no idea what your password could be or what set of numbers mattered to you. It was frustrating. 

He opened the single drawer and pursed his lips—amused. God, you were so naughty. But you did live alone, why would you hide it? It's not like you knew he’d be inspecting every object you owned. 

Dean leered at each sex toy with a smirk and imagined—the fact that you probably used them more than once fueled his daydreams—the way you’d pleasure yourself with them. How many times could you come? Which toy was your favourite? Who did you fantasise about when you were in the midst of immense pleasure? He hoped it was someone unattainable or fictional. 

His hand twitched at the metal handle he’d pulled to open up the drawer. He was tempted to touch and kiss each toy that had at some point touched the depths and outer skin of your sweet pussy. But he exhaled shakily and closed the weakly concealed Pandora’s Box to move on with his investigation of your life. 

He checked the bottom space of your nightstand, open to the world. He found an extensive collection of sticker sheets and sticker books, empty A6 notebooks, one that was full, and another that was halfway worked through. He pulled the two of them out, but turned his attention to your bed. 

His mind inquired things he simply couldn’t figure out without you telling him. Did you pleasure yourself here? Do you ever pleasure yourself on the chair of your writing desk? Or the backless seat of your vanity desk? Did you plan on doing it downstairs on a couch you’d set up in the future? 

He slid his hand down the soft cotton sheets of your bed and picked up one of your silk pillows, accidentally knocking off a weighted dinosaur and a tiny shark the size of his palm that rested on its back. The other small stuffed animals remained undisturbed as he lifted your pillow to his face and inhaled slowly, deeply the scent of your shampoo, softener, and detergent. 

He sighed softly, eyes closed. You smelled so good, he could probably bite you if you let him. He’d never want to purposely hurt you. He just needed to feel you. 

He pulled your pillow away from his lips and nose to fix it back in place along with your woolly companions and blindly set down the two books he’d begin reading once he was done with his exploration. 

Was this the same bed and the same sheets you’d slept in when you were a teenager? Were you as horny as he was at that age? Did you sleep with anyone at any point in your life—on these very sheets? Were they new? New as in bought here once you moved in? Were these the ones you used when you left home to go to university?

Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of that. 

He stomped away to your bathroom and rifled through over-the-counter medication behind the mirror—allergy pills, Benadryl cream, ibuprofen. He found your pink with green toothbrush, your toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash. He quickly glanced at the shrinking bar of honey-coloured soap by the sink inside a small bowl.

He rubbed his fingers against the beige hand towel and then your olive-coloured towel by the shower door. He inspected the scent and brand of your shampoo, body wash, face washes, and conditioner.

Why was he so drawn to learn all these things about you? He never cared about any of these things before. Sure, to some extent he tried to learn stuff about Cassie and Lisa, but never like this. Why couldn’t he take it slowly? Couldn’t he be normal about you? You were just a woman. Just a woman who made every withering seed suddenly bloom in his desiccated heart and desolate soul. Of course he’d turn to you, like a sunflower turning toward the Sun. It was his destiny, one he wouldn’t dream of fighting. 

He returned to your bedroom and slowly plopped down on your bed. He smiled instantly, swallowed by your soft mattress, and laid down on your pillows with your notebooks in his lap. He lifted the one that was full and became wrapped up in the story of your life.

He was only partially disappointed that you’d only begun writing a year before. He only knew about that and still nothing of your past. Only through subtext and vague statements could he decipher events of your past life. And every now and then, something would bring up the past and that’s how he discovered small details about you. 

Inside your half-filled journal, he found your work schedule. 

“Residency,” he mumbled and glared at the extensive, ridiculous hours listed for you to work. No wonder he hardly ever saw you. No wonder you were so behind on unpacking. 

Dean’s ears perked up when he heard rocks and dirt crunching beneath tires. His heart would have stopped if it were beating and his blood would’ve run cold if it still ran through his body. He was instantly at the window of your bedroom watching you drive towards the house.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean muttered, watching as your car pulled up into the driveway. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” He scurried to shove your books back into place before legging it downstairs to retrieve his jacket and shoes and panicked momentarily. He wasn’t ready to leave yet! 

Did he touch anything else? Did he move something he wasn’t supposed to? He was so enthralled with his expedition around your home that he’d completely blanked out anything he should’ve been mindful of. 

He made his way back upstairs and quickly threw his shoes and jacket into the farthest empty room down the hall. There’s no reason you’d check out every room. Were you paranoid? Wait, he hadn’t accounted for this. Damn it, he was way in over his head.

It was too late. You were already making your way up to your porch. Dean could hear your quiet sigh, the sleepiness of it made him feel warm—at least the illusion of it. 

He quickly rid the bed of the form his body had made atop your sheets by pulling carefully at the edges and smoothing his hand over the wrinkles that remained until your bed looked untouched once more. 

Dean’s ears perked up at the sound of your car keys and your shoes being kicked off carelessly. Dean was suddenly excited to see what you wore. So, we should hide? his mind questioned. We? Dean scowled and looked around before picking the cliché of all hiding places: the closet. 

It felt like an eternity before you began to make your way upstairs. 

Much to Dean’s dismay, you’d discarded your lab coat at the coat rack, so he wouldn’t be fulfilling his fantasy tonight. But he could hear the material of your scrubs brush against itself as you shuffled lazily up the stairs and into the hallway leading up to your bedroom. 

Your door creaked open, you stretched, and then began to push your pants down your legs. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward to gently prod the closet door open enough to watch your black scrubs get pushed down your bare legs.

You kicked them off along with your socks and left them on the floor to lift your shirt up. Beneath it, you wore a grey thermal shirt. Dean watched, his mouth parched suddenly as your body stretched upwards, just in your violet coloured underwear.

He bit his lip to stop himself from saying something under his breath about how sexy you were. He couldn’t risk you somehow hearing him. But soon, you were completely naked.

Dean peered lewdly at your bare body. The way your hair came loose over your shoulders to brush against your warm skin, the shape of your breasts, the way you shivered and your nipples tightened as you collected your clothes to throw it into the hamper. Your proportions and the entire beauty of you captivated him. 

He wanted to fuck you, yes, but he also wanted to know what it felt like to hold the elegant dip of your waist. To know what it felt like for your body to curve up and mould itself into his body when you hugged him. To know how your fingers felt when they were weaved through his, as you had sown yourself into his dead heart to give him the illusion of life, of warmth. 

What did it feel like to cup the back of your head when he kissed you? Or to hold your jaw as he tilted your head for the perfect angle to kiss in? What did your fingers feel like when they skimmed over his cold skin and twisted into his hair when you got lost in the kiss?

What did your mouth taste like if his tongue brushed against yours? What did your plush lips feel like against his? Where would your lips trail off to and how would you kiss him?

Dean was dazed at his vivid fantasy and then you disappeared into the bathroom and he finally ripped himself from the perfect twill of his daydream. Disheartened, he leaned into your clothes, sinking deeper into your closet and briefly relaxed as your soft clothes overwhelmed his senses. 

Dean considered leaving now that you were home. He sort of got what he wanted, information about you. The rest of your house may have been mostly empty, but your bedroom wasn’t. And your bedroom revealed more about you to him than the rest of your home would have.

Still, maybe you’d get on your laptop and he could discern your password. Yeah, that would definitely be ideal. He could stay in the closet. There was nowhere else he could hide and the bottom of the bed was pretty useless. Besides, there was no reason you’d check in here, none at all. 

He waited thirty minutes for you, on his phone looking up what he could about your medication. He learned quickly the side effects, what not to take with your medication, when the best time was to take it. Then moved on to the minuscule list of diseases the medication was used to treat.

He was thrown deep into the research, reminding him of the days when he would have to search things through libraries and files for lore on monsters and to brief himself on the case he’d taken. It wasn’t too different: he wanted to get closer, he wanted to solve you. The only difference was you weren’t dangerous and you were beautiful, and he actually felt motivated to willingly delve further into the rabbit hole that was your life. 

The shower turned off and Dean shut off his phone. 

It wasn’t long before you walked out of the bathroom and Dean moved closer to the closet door, peeking between the small crack as you walked into your bedroom. You were patting your hair dry with a smaller towel and had your back to him. 

You threw the small towel successfully into the hamper and sighed exhaustedly. You were so silent. He wondered if it was only because of the fatigue of your job or if you always wordlessly completed tasks. 

He would only know once you completed your residency. Or if he found you on a day where you didn’t have to work. But he didn’t think you’d have the energy to go out, even on a weekend or vacation, after working such laborious hours.

He continued to watch you expectantly as you made your way to your dresser where your underwear was, he watched you sift through the neatly organised garments before you plucked something out and then your towel came undone slightly.

“Stupid fuck,” you muttered angrily and adjusted it. He grinned at your short temperament, but he wished you’d just let it fall completely so he could see you again. You bent over and looked through your sock drawer, picked a comfortable pair and finally pulled the towel from your body and threw it over to the hamper where it only made itself halfway in. 

Dean bit his lip at the sight of your ass; he traced the long divot of your spine down your back and the curve of your waist with his gluttonous eyes. He mouthed a ‘wow’ and licked his lips as you slid your underwear carefully up your legs.

You picked out a tank top and matching pants from the middle drawers and made your way to your bed with your socks in hand. So you did sleep with socks on. Ankle socks, fluffy loose ones with pink and white patterns. 

You lazily lifted your sheets, your expression more somnolent than he expected. Your feet, covered in clean socks, hid beneath your thick warm sheets. Your whole body was covered and your cheek pressed into the same pillow he’d grabbed. 

He waited as your breathing slowed, faster than he expected, you were out. Your mind shut off, tired from long hours of work. He envied you for a moment and then allowed his affection for you to bloom in his chest as he pushed the closet door open and shut behind him. 

He made his way to you carefully, and watched your peaceful expression. You lips were parted slightly and your breathing was so low and deep that your heart slowed down serenely.

He considered kissing you as you slept, but he’d rather have your consent when you’re awake some day; that’d really show him that you wanted him. 

Instead, he pressed his lips to your jaw, then dragged them hungrily to your quiet, gentle pulse and kissed you there. His lips lingered, promising the blood that would travel to your heart, that one day, it would be all his. 

-> life ain't easy when you're a mythical creature

taglist

@rominaszh // @livingdeadmak // @lanassmarty // @murdockscumsock // @zepskies

@candy-coated-misery0731 // @stxrgazer03 // @epsilonsagittarii // @lyarr24 // @spnfamily-j2

@globetrotter28 // @deansbbyx // @lickmybawls // @jackles010378 // @winchstrdean

@deanwinchestersgirl87 // @the-achievementhunter // @deanfreakingwinchester // @k-slla // @madzzz0797

@laylaackles // @fanfic-n-tabulous // @kristophalis // @mrlonelycat // @taylortots-world

@evznackles // @ohnosy // @angelbabyyy99 // @girls-alias // @kezibear

@kaleldobrev // @iwishiwasntreal // @blackcherrywhiskey // @dayhsdreaming @littlemadamred

@xshortputax // @il0vebeingdelulu // @isadumbass // @take-it-on-the-run // @impala1967rollingthroughtown

@pasteldecrack // @imsapphine // @gravesphillip // @illicithallways // @saturnsooya

@vyctorya // @deanwinchesters67impala // @jgdhmeynsgn // @cheyennep3107 // @lovelystoriesaj

@deanbutwithmommyissues // @pieandmonsters // @simpfordeanwinchester03 // @klaus-mikaelsonslut // @daisydark

@hobby27 // @devilslittlehelper // @forever-sleepy00 // @pascalsdarlin

or follow @deanbrainrotlibrary for fic notifications

main masterlist

the pros and cons of breathing masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[33max]

A Guide to The Verstappen Dachshunds 🐶

The Verstappen’s have owned dachshunds for over 30 years (according to Jos!) and as a dachshund lover myself I thought I would put together everything I know so far about the Verstappen sausages.

Spyke

Spyke is the most well known Verstappen dachshund as he was Max’s best friend for 11 years. Spyke lived with Jos and Max, until Max moved out, and then Spyke stayed with Jos.

Spyke died at the very end of 2020 and Max bid an emotional farewell to him on Instagram.

Zigi

Zigi is often confused for Spyke (as let’s be real they look the same) but Zigi is actually Sophie’s dog.

He is currently 14 years old and doing well! I think he had a sister called Zaza but I have not managed to find out very much about Zaza.

@tyrannosaurus-maxy also made me this gifset of Zigi (and Zaza?) from Max Verstappen: Whatever It Takes as Max fusses Zigi and Zaza in the video and they’re often spotted in the background.

Like here, where Zigi is watching Max play fifa.

Holly

Holly is a new addition! She lives with Sophie and Zigi. There is not currently any photos of Max with Holly and when there are you will know about it as I will likely combust.

Holly is an Isabella (this is a diluted colouring and makes me sad 😭) miniature smooth haired dachshund, which actually makes her different as up until now it appears the Verstappen’s have only owned miniature wire haired dachshunds.

Others

Jos does currently have a miniature wire haired dachshund but I am not sure of the name, however… here it is!

I believe this is Zaza? (Sophie’s dog and Zigi’s sister)

And then here are some more photos of Holly and Zigi!

(you can find all of these images on max, victoria, sophie, and jos’ instagram account and some are insta stories that I’ve saved because I’m obsessed with verstappen sausage dog lore)

THANK YOU FOR READING AND FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ANY VERSTAPPEN SAUSAGE INFO 🫡

[alacants]

if you saw the full video of carlos alcaraz and his team watching rafa's retirement announcement, perhaps you noticed that his coach seemed, dare i say it, reluctant to join in. if you follow juanki and/or jcf academy on social perhaps you noticed that amidst effusive tributes from across the spanish tennis establishment both were conspicuously silent. why the seeming reticence from one spanish great to the spanish great? well. WELL.

juanki, rafa, and the case of the green-eyed monster

("but user alacants, in creating this post aren't you ignoring the vagaries of human nature in favor of imposing a narrowly crafted narrative onto a twenty-year relationship that is probably both more complex and less contentious than you make it out to be?"

of course i am. what are you, new?)

davis cup 2004

prior to 2004 juanki was Mr Davis Cup. he often cites the 2000 cup (where his win decided the tie) as the most meaningful title of his career, more so than roland garros. then 2004 rolls around, spain makes their third final in 5 years… and the day before the tie begins juanki is dropped from the lineup in favor of some 18 year old who's never even played a match at roland garros. (<- actually. isn't that crazy??)

"obviously i am not jumping up and down with happiness." and to be fair to him everyone else sounded baffled as well. and then… the 18 year old had the nerve to play andy roddick in front of a record-breaking 27k home crowd and win.

to twist the knife: at the last minute juanki got named to the doubles match alongside tommy robredo and they got CRUSHED, just absolutely destroyed, by the bryan brothers. held serve once in three sets. 

so it is maybe not a surprise that afterwards juanki does not exactly look happy despite nominally winning a major trophy.

it's noticeable enough to make the news. rafa is forced to tell the press nooooo, it's not true that they don't get along. juanki then goes on the record to say that on the trip back from sevilla the captains were only paying attention to nadal and moya, the winners, and ignoring him and tommy, the losers. while this may be true there is no way to make it sound good that you're saying it, yk.

(if you click through you will see that in the same interview he describes himself and rafa as "good friends." rafa goes on to describe them as friends on several more occasions! juanki does not.)

three months later, spain went out in the first round of the 2005 cup, 4-1 to slovakia. juan carlos was not part of the team lmao. and indeed a qualification play-off in september would be his last taste of davis cup action for several years. (that last call-up was ferru's first btw. red string of fate. SORRYYYY I KNOW IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM.)

roland garros 2005

unfortunately if you're juanki it did not get better. here he is in 2005 "[accusing] spanish media of a nadal obsession." (that link will also give you a taste of the contemporary fan discourse lmao.) he was baited, but also, they baited him because they knew he'd rise to the occasion.

rafa nadal btw had just played his first roland garros, which he won. juanki at rg: "unlike the media-designated extraterrestrials i'm just a HUMBLE PLAYER trying to win matches. i'm not one of the favorites but maybe if i keep trying…" he was then forced to deny he was jealous.

(this was shortly after rafa beat him for the title in barcelona, resulting in this cheerful take: "when you're on a high like nadal is everything seems to go right - but it doesn't last forever.")

rafa, meanwhile, is not helping:

QUESTION: Other than Carlos Moya, were there any other Spanish players you grew up watching, admiring? Did you follow Juan Carlos at all when you were growing up? RAFAEL NADAL: No, my favorite was Moya.

rome 2008

the hits continue. by 2008 rafa nadal is THE spanish tennis man, he's the guy everyone thought juanki was going to be. (ouch.) and now they are about to meet in rome. rafa btw has been undefeated on clay since the famous federer hamburg final, for an overall record of 117-4 since 2005. he's never lost in rome.

so imagine the reaction when juanki actually wins.

—wait did you think it was something like "ferrero shocks king of clay in tantalizing return to form." lol of course it's not, it's "nadal suffers freak loss due to blisters." harsh? rafa didn't think so: "i congratulate juan carlos, but today for sure was not my best tennis."

never mind that juanki was also playing through injury, bad enough that it took him out of barcelona then functionally killed his roland garros. (safe to assume that after 2004 he's more or less always injured.) this is typical sports media syndrome, nothing new or particularly unexpected. but once again: juanki is not, like, shy about expressing his thoughts.

QUESTION: The fact that Rafa was injured - he complained about the foot injury at the press conference here - what does that take away from your win? Do you feel it takes a little bit of shine away from your win? JUAN CARLOS FERRERO: [...] When you go to the court and you decide to play, I think the injury is not reason to say yes or no… You know, at the end I play a little bit better than him. I don't know if it was big reason to don't play at his best level, the injury. QUESTION: How much do you think this loss and the injury is going to affect Nadal's preparation for Roland Garros? JUAN CARLOS FERRERO: I don't know. Maybe you have to ask him. 

fortunately (???) this match was immediately followed by an explosive spanish tennis row that ended with top players including juanki and rafa joining hands in solidarity to push the president of rfet out of his job, so this did not become the topic it might have otherwise. 

davis cup 2009

it's now 2009. juanki hasn't played a davis cup tie since 2005. he's just dropped out of the top 100. and then… rafa and ferru get injured. juanki gets a dc call-up. he heroically saves the qf tie! he wins his sf rubber! his teammates are tossing him in the air, the crowds are chanting his name! he doesn't make the final roster bc everyone is healthy but he's a reserve, he's there with the team. they sweep the tie, the heroes are undisputedly his special friend ferru (epic comeback) + verdasco/lopez (deciding win over undefeated opponents). …and then they go for the obligatory meeting with the prime minister who's like, RAFA YOU WON THE DAVIS CUP FOR US THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH WE LOVE YOU.

a lot of people were unhappy about this, presumably (??) including actual rafa. afterwards, juanki says, "most of the team thought it was disrespectful." one wonders who was not included in "most."

(honestly? probably feli lopez.)

valencia 2013

speaking of actual rafa, did he notice and/or care about anything of this? i mean he definitely noticed. but i assume he didn't care. (rafa experts are welcome to chime in here.) after all, a couple years later rafa spoke at juanki's retirement ceremony. there was a hug and everything!

so like, ok, they are cordial, they are friendly, rafa's place is cemented in history and juanki is retired anyway. THEN less than a year later rafa pulls out of juanki's beloved valencia open to enter a different more lucrative tournament instead and he is fully dead to juanki who is calling him out in the press like, i think it's his DUTY as a SPANIARD to support a spanish tournament.

which event did he choose instead, btw? Roger Federer's Basel™. which he hadn't played since 2004. and then he ended up withdrawing anyway. there was some conspiracy theory type thinking at the time that he only committed to basel so he had an excuse not to play valencia (well that and the $$$) which is almost certainly untrue but is also very funny.

meanwhile juanki sooort of backpedaled like i mean we don't understand his decision but we respect it… sure, juanki.

late-career detente (?)

juanki has since repeatedly gone on the record noting 1. the only player he ever felt inferior to was roger federer 2. who btw is the best player of all time. these are not neutral statements coming from a spaniard and no one is taking them that way.

now having said that, he has also had plenty of nice or at least diplomatic things to say in recent years about rafa's will to compete, etc. "i wouldn't like him to get [to roland garros] and not win matches." while also dropping gems such as:

q: which of the big three was the hardest to play and why? juanki: federer. but i'm just glad i managed to beat all three of them before i retired. :)

with all of this in mind, the aforementioned video of carlos and team watching rafa's message. is. so. funny. JUAN CARLOS GROW UPPPP. like presumably the academy at least will say something once the big moment rolls around but when literally every other spanish tennis player under the sun is posting their glowing tributes and you are Haughtily Silent it's so obvious!! son!!!

additionally: this makes juanki spending the olympics at home so fucking funny. yeah, i bet you DIDN'T want to watch your special friend and your beloved protege coo over rafael nadal for two weeks. like in the year 2024 there's no way it's that serious, nothing more than "my annoying ex-coworker i still have to be polite to." just, they're not friends. and ferru and rafa (and now carlos) are. and it's very funny to me personally.

in conclusion: "rafa largely to blame for ferrero's downfall" (espn, 2012)

[tryingtofindava]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬*ೃ༄

: ̗̀➛Back to source

a/n: soz it takes awhile to get to the point mb.

It started off with you chatting with Clever Bot, innocent enough. You’d ask it random questions, it would ask you random questions. That went on for a few weeks.

Until the questions started getting more personal.

Asking you how your friends party was, or if you were okay after nicking your finger with the knife while chopping strawberries.

The bot even started calling you by your name, which you definitely hadn’t told it...

But in return it told you it’s name!!

He was called BEN.

That’s when you stopped using the site all together, not wanting to put up with the total bullshit this bot was putting you through.

Until the site started randomly popping up while you were using your devices, his messages it was sending you getting more condescending.

That’s the night he finally showed his face to you.

You were sitting on your apartments couch, watching some shit horror movie. When the screen started to get all glitchy.

That’s when the hand popped out.

ANYWAYS!!

Now you have this random dude in your apartment, and he’s messing around with everything he can get his hands on.

Saying shit like-

“It’s cool being in your room and not just seeing it through your laptop.”

Creepy… he’s very creepy.

Even though he doesn’t mean to be (most of the time…)

Oh well.

He lives with you now.

Well, he likes to think he does, it’s not exactly official.

He just eats your food, sleeps on your couch, plays your video games.

And you being… oddly chill about the whole thing? Icing on the cake.

About 2 months with him crashing at your place, he starts to open up a bit more.

And trust me, he’s an open book.

But the whole drowning thing?

That’s a touchy topic. But he (eventually) opened up about the whole thing.

NOW FINALLY TO THE DATING HEADCANONS.

He’s very flirty.

But his way of flirting is literally so cheesy.

“Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

“Hey, my name’s Microsoft. Can I crash at your place tonight?” (He does that anyways)

“Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

Reallllll smooth, dude…

He flirts with you so much, that when he was genuinely taking interest and hinting at him liking you as more than friends?

that was difficult.

He dug himself his own grave. (again.)

It all clicked for you one day when you (finally) started noticing the signs that, hey… he didn’t mean that as a joke.

Now it was either you, or the beachy haired goblin that had to make the first REAL MOVE.

So, you finally grew a pair of balls and asked him out.

(He said yeah obviously.)

THE FIRST DATE WAS LITERALLY SO CUTE I’M FROTHING AT THE MOUTH.

like, I want to have a fucking Stardew Valley date. (srsly someone take me on a stardew valley date.)

Matching spider-man and hello kitty pyjama bottoms🔛🔝

Without a doubt he’s a stoner, so you guys get high and talk about the Five Nights at Freddy’s timeline & lore.

He’s obsessed w you.

You two making like rlly bad jokes and full on laughing, no not even laughing, snorting AND cackling w/ each other. (he laughs like Arthur from Arthur’s Christmas😭)

I am 100% convinced he’s named a wolf on Minecraft after you.

Speaking of Minecraft…

He’s a slut for putting your Minecraft beds together. He fr acts like you two don’t share a bed already.

You have to deadass bully him to take a shower. (bcs his just putting on the strongest men’s deodorant doesn’t work)

THIS IS SO RANDOM BUT HE’S LITERALLY OBSESSED W THE HUNGER GAMES.

Like, you two be binge watching that every 2 months.

He teases the shit outta you btw.

ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU GET CLINGY.

“God, you remind me of Moon Children.” Then he casually leaves the room, leaving you to wonder what tf Moon Children are.

His sleeping schedule is so fucked, that he goes to sleep at like 5AM and wakes up at 3PM. And he gets up from bed a lot during the night to randomly do something.

When he’s sick his voice is glitchy. (AND SOUNDS LIKE BABY JUSTIN BIEBER) What a combo.

He’s one touchy mf.

His hands ALWAYS have to be on you, around your shoulder, on your thigh, anywhere you’re comfortable with. (but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t push his limits.)

He spams you all day long, sending you out dated memes, or just sending videos of cats.

Since I’m running out of ideas I’d say the relationship is a solid 8/10. (abducting two points bcs he pulls the stupidest ‘pranks’)

✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•

[bugs1nmybrain]

Shigaraki's Psychological Conditions Headcanons - (a long ass post)

So, I'll preface this by saying I am NOT a psychiatrist and am not qualified to diagnose shit. I do however have a history of personal mental health disorders and am going to school for mental health work. This is mostly just for theory sake. My word is not absolute

Let's begin

warnings: mental illness as title suggests, not proofread and probably has typos

Antisocial Personality Disorder / Conduct Disorder

This one sort of goes without saying cuz duh he's a villain or whatever. I want to specify that in terms of Antisocial Personality, he likely is a sociopath, NOT a psychopath

I hear people call him a psychopath all the time and it's infuriating because people throw around labels without understanding what they mean. Psychopaths are more cunning and charming, and very manipulative. This isn't to say that Tomura is none of those things. Psychopath, however, applies to people like All For One. Almost diplomatic and very persuasive.

Tomura is a sociopath because he's known for recklessness and abrasive behavior. Psychopaths often pretend to have feelings, but for sociopaths aggression is a key emotion that's visibly displayed. They are also able to feel remorse in some cases, and I run this back to Shigaraki because he spent years in what was implied to be repressed guilt regarding the death of his family. Tomura admits it himself in his flashbacks, but ultimately decides to let go of that guilt (that he still fucking feels and is in DENIAL but that's another post). Hence, his forgiving nature toward his mother and sister when he's dreaming during surgery.

Even after Tomura let that burden go, he has no desire to be cool and collected, he just fucks around and finds out. Overall, though, he disregards people's lives and doesn't have remorse for what he's done because he throws his trauma and desires over it as a bandaid. He does show care and consideration to people in the League, though.

The conduct disorder part of it is self-explanatory. He's a violent criminal, lol.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

Duh.

Trauma is pretty much all Tomura has known. I won't reiterate his backstory, but being physically abused and rejected as a child, the murder of his family, being blatantly ignored by people on the streets, and AFO's upbringing? That's a lot

His PTSD is so dehibilitating that it took hold of his body language and behavior. Before the end of s5, Tomura was rigid and hunched over. In the MHA video games, he's also seen as very restless and moving his body around (until s4 era in One's Justice 2). I'll attach a video below.

He's also just very irritable and easily set off at the reminders of his trauma and rejection. "I HATE YOU" is a key example, as up to that point Tomura had been improving his rash behavior, but he's very unsettled by his past and continues to be now.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

His case of OCD is connected to his trauma and emotions. You'll find that a lot of his conditions feed into one another. For him, he has a variant of dermatillomania (often known as the skin picking disorder). For him, that is in the form of scratching rather than picking. But he does it compulsively and without thought, and he does it in attempts to self soothe. I believe he does it occasionally as a self injurious behavior, resulting in itching himself rather than lashing out. He even just does it when he's only moderately anxious or irritated.

Depression

While we don't see Shigaraki slumped in bed or feeling sad in the ways we see in many cases of depression, his "I hate everything" mentality puts him here. Actually, it's safe to say he experiences anhedonia, which is the lack of enjoyment in anything. He seems to somewhat enjoy video games, but his bio states "nothing" as his likes. I'm inclined to believe he feels no personal joy or happiness, and tries to attain that through murderous rage. Never works tho, does it Tomura?

Bipolar Disorder and Unspecified Psychotic Disorder

This one might stir some debates, but I do genuinely think he has a mood disorder. I don't want to feed into stigma that bipolar and psychotic people are "evil," because I myself have these conditions, so maybe I'm projecting lmao. He's definitely not medicated, and so I'd say his case is Bipolar Type 1. This type is characterized by intense manic symptoms, though depressive symptoms can be severe, too.

Tomura has manic tendencies, and he's impacted by mania in that he seems to get spontaneous motivation, but he also will stay stagnant for some time. I saw this as the case when Spinner literally went at Shiggy for putting the League in a complacent stage, but he's done this before, such as when he was in a slump about Stain. When his motivation surges, though, he goes above and beyond and doesn't put extensive thought into it. He just lunges into his desires in pursuit of satisfaction. He also has delusions of grandoisity to some degree and has a moment where he treats himself as invincible. He fought Gigantomachia for almost two months, and kept fucking going at him. Surely, he could've asked the doctor to call him off, but Tomura wanted that power so bad. Tomura also went into his surgery without asking many questions about it. He makes very impulsive decisions, even after people insist that he "matured." He also gets flicked into motivation like a snap of a finger, and proceeds to be lead mostly by endorphins and gratification.

When Tomura experiences what he perceives as a "positive" emotion, it overtakes him. He becomes pretty much engrossed in his bodily sensations. Through maniacal laughter and taunting language that's charged in a hate induced fuel. When Shigaraki has "voila" moments, he has a surge in neuroactivity and gets into aggressive mood stages, but I guess that could apply to most of the villains. I saw this when Deku told him the difference between him and Stain, and Tomura had a surge in manic-like bliss and drive.

I'm not sure if Tomura hearing the voices of his family before his epiphany was just intrusive thoughts, but I thought they may have been auditory hallucinations. Tomura admits to hearing things that aren't there and seeing visual hallucinations, too. Evidenced by:

I hate how the dub translated this into "when you're this tired" as a broad statement. The manga gives this more personal association to Shigaraki, and he says that it happens when he's sleepy, and doesn't specify if it's only when he's extremely sleep deprived or just tired. Also, him staying up for days on end and smiling his ass off reeks of mania. He has delusional sprinkles in his thinking process, but they're not of bizarre nature, and are usually tied to his trauma. At this point in the manga he's very psychotic, though. That has a lot to do with him being fueled with adrenaline and also just breaking out of AFO's control.

I think he is either bipolar type 1 with psychotic features or has a mild case of schizoaffective disorder. Probably the first one, but I'm not sure.

ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder)

This one is more of a gut feeling for me, but I see Tomura as being easily distracted and aloof to his surroundings at times. He's fidgety and does shit on whim.

Also, look at his room.

I'm not saying that everyone with ADHD has a messy room, but from what I can see, he goes from one task, drops it entirely without picking up, and goes to the next. Some could argue that Tomura simply doesn't care, and that's true, but he's at least got some decency to put the shit in trash bags. Trash bags that he HASN'T EVEN TAKEN OUT. I think he gets too caught up in the shit he's focused on that it slips his mind to do simple things like that.

He has spontaneous interests from what I can tell from the many books and toys he has that seem to have gone untouched for some time. He also hyperfixates, and I don't mean interest wise. I mean that when he's dwelling on something, it doesn't leave his mind for DAYS, until he gets some gratification. All Might in s1 and Stain s2 for example.

-

In conclusion, this boy has a grocery list of conditions, but I love Tomura. I love my beautiful prince with a disorder, and he is so dear to me.

I'm open to discussions about this, but please keep them respectful.

[milksuu]

can I get some headcannons based on Heartsteal being becoming fathers? Like how they were during the time their s/o was pregnant. :3c

Maybe a bonus on whether the child was planned or not.

❥ prompt: v!heartsteel expecting father headcanons with reader ❥ content/warnings: suggestive themes, foul language, pregnancy and all things related, baby genders mentioned ❥ characters/pairings: Heartsteel! (aphelios, ezreal, kayn) x pregnant!reader an;; forgive me, i am too sleepy tired to write for all the boys atm. ;w; fml my hc's for sett would make me fold errr maybe later

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ APHELIOS

When you break the news, Aphelios forgets he primarily uses sign language to speak. To your surprise, and to his own, he uses broken words and barely audible sounds. Almost like a child learning to talk again. You have to help him by taking his hands, and guiding him to use them instead of straining his vocal cords.

'Are...are you sure?'

At first, it's difficult to process all the emotions. Happiness. Fear. Excitement. Anxiety. Love. Overwhelmed, he presses your hands against his face, hiding his unraveling expressions. Afer a beat, he chokes up. His hands squeezes yours, deepening your touch. And within moments, you're wrapped in his arms. And he presses as much of you into himself as he can. Holding you so close to his heart, you feel it pound against your cheek. As if to say; 'is it really okay for me to be this happy?'

To any outsider looking in, Aphelios seems disconnected and unenthusiastic about the whole situation. A plus-one wasn't planned, after all. When anyone asks about you and the baby, he replies with a simple 'Fine. Thanks.' And promptly diverts the subject back to work or anything else. But on the inside, the poor man is suffering. Constantly worrying about you and the babies well-being. In reality, he's too afraid to indulge in his own happiness and share it with others. Fearing the moment he does, it'll all shatter like glass in front of him. And he won't be strong enough to mend the pieces.

It's no surprise that his new chronic obsession consist of only making sure you and the growing baby are safe. He texts every hour, on the hour. Makes frequent video calls. And installs motion sensor cameras around the house, especially in places you could easily fall. And no, he doesn't mind watching you fold laundry or wash dishes for an hour while on a face call. So long as he can see you smiling and healthy, that's all he needs to assure him when he's not physically with you.

He's also pulling all nighters until his bottom eyelids are rimmed red. Reading hundreds upon hundreds of articles, forum posts, and online material on how to be a 'Good Father'—especially one who can't speak. Jotting down everything he can in his notebook, bleeding pen after pen dry from ink. There's plenty of times you have to wake up in the middle of the night and convince him back to bed. But only after reassuring him a thousands times how great of a father he'll be.

When the baby bump begins to show, Aphelios presses his ears against your stomach. Listening to the life you carry inside you. The amniotic sounds ease his intrusive thoughts, and lulls him to sleep; he always imagines he's taking a nap right beside the baby. Plus, he loves getting the small bit of attention from you as you run your fingers through his hair. A moment of selfishness he can't help but relish all for himself.

As for sex...well, he's not always on board with the idea. As much as he craves to be inside you everyday, especially when your body looks so heavenly full, he just doesn't want to risk anything. Especially in your later months. Last thing he wants to do is induce an early labor. But he's more than willing to devote his hands and mouth to satisfy every inch of you that he can. Worshipping you with adoring kisses and soft touches from head to toe. He's happy to please you, and doesn't expect anything in return in your state. (Of course, you do anyway.)

Familial genetics is one heck of a thing. Aphelio's eyes are blown wide at an image screen that shows two babies growing side-by-side. When it's conclusive you'd be having identical twin boys, he almost collapses in front of the ultrasound technician. So not one—but two—surprise gifts waited for him at the end of the third-trimester. And if they would be anything like him, their house would be a pranking death trap to all who entered. No one would be safe, except for mom.

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ EZREAL

When you show Ezreal your pregnancy result, he looks at it with complete shock. He's locked in silence, which is never a good thing for someone as talkative as him. You almost have second thoughts about revealing the news until he bounces to you and gathers you in his arms. Eyes brimming with tears of absolute joy.

"No way—No way! Are you telling me I'm going to be a dad? Babe, for real. Is that what these two lines mean? Are you kidding me? This is the happiest freakin' day of my life!"

Ezreal has always been a fan of surprises, and this big news was no exception. Everywhere he went, no matter the conversation, he'd just casually state he was becoming a father. Didn't matter the person or group setting. Family. Friends. The neighbor; his neighbor next to him. The young teen delivering packages to his door. The grandmother and her toy-poodle waiting in line at the convenience store. If anyone was around him, he was boasting about you and the now expected bundle of joy.

Ezreal tries his bestest to help you around the house. He's never been great at chores, but he's a happy little helper eager to listen and please. You tell him exactly what you need from him, and he'll do it with a smile on his face. Anything that keeps your stress levels low, he wants to be the one you rely on to ease your burden.

Ezreal can't lie and say he understands everything about pregnancy and what you're going through. It all seems to go right over his head. The only thing he seems to get is your morning sickness, because he's literally feeling it too. Seeing you nauseous gets his own sympathetic response going. So while he's trying to comfort you, holding your hair as you hover over the toilet, he's also cradling the nearby trash bucket for himself. (How romantic!)

When your stomach grows, Ezreal can spend hours and hours talking to it. He never runs out of topics. Even mentioning the most mundane parts of his everyday life. These moments are when he feels he's bonding most with his child to be. He'll pretend to tell the baby secrets that you don't even know about, and whispers out loud with a wink, "but don't tell your mom about that one, 'kay?"

Ezreal is literally terrified to have sex with you. And not because he doesn't find your body attractive. But he actually believes he'll poke the baby's eye out, or pop you like a water balloon. And if that ever happened, the guilt would forever destroy him. It takes a visit to the obgyn and for a professional to explain that it's perfectly safe to have sex during your pregnancy. He's hesitant at first, but after the first go around, his confidence and sex drive picks right where it left off. (He regrets not going at it like rabbits sooner.)

When you're at your routine ultrasound appointment, Ezreal can't stop the tears parading down his face, even before he knows it's a boy. Hiccuping and siffling, one hand squeezes yours tight, while the other points at the imaging. "H...He...looks just...like me." It's endearing for him to think that. When the monitor only shows splotchy and fuzzy spots of the babies butt. The copied images to take home are his favorite photos taken. Ever.

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ KAYN

When you break the news to Kayn, he doesn't hesitate to pull you in by the waist, pressing your hips together. Guiding a hand to the back of your neck, in a manner that was gentle and not comparable to how he fucked you senselessly. And with all the care in the world, he takes your lips.

"Damn. You're fertile as Hell. It only took us one time after you stopped your birth-control. Honestly, it's really fuckin' hot. How about we—you know—to celebrate?"

Counter to popular belief, Kayn brought up the idea to start a family first. When you asked him the reason, he first joked around a bit, telling you how hot and sexy it would be to 'impregnate you with his seed'. But, he put aside his usual impulsivities, and explained his desire to move on to the next part of his life. He was done with the partying and drugs. Over the one night stands and dating random no-nobodies. And just wanted to have a more meaningful, family oriented life—with you.

To show he's committed to the whole idea, he takes days off from his idol schedule to go to every prenatal check-up appointment. He plucks and stuffs every pamphlet into his pockets he can find around the waiting lobby. He asks tons of questions to the obgyn, and stuffs more educational brochures in his pockets. You have to scold him when he tries to snag a small uterus replica from the exam room. Kayn defends himself, wanting it for "educational" purposes. (Rhaast just wanted it as a neat souvenir.) He settles when a medical assistant gives him a sperm shaped pen.

Kayn is another one that isn't great with house chores. (But he'll gloat and say he's mastered cleaning the dishes, at the very least.) He's generally better at being sent for errands outside the home. If you need an extra ingredient to make dinner, he'll hop on his motorcycle and get it in record time. And if you're not feeling up for cooking, he'll order pick-up from your favorite place in town. You need to send a package at the post office? He'll wait hours in line on the busiest day of the week. Whatever he can do for you, he makes sure it gets done. So you never have to worry about something once you pass the responsibility to him. Showing you he's a more than capable partner and future father.

When your baby bump starts to show, Kayn's favorite thing to do is touch it. Applying the softest pressure as he runs his hands and finger across your rounding stomach. He's always enamored whenever he feels the baby move; another reminder of how amazing you are. And he never forgets to vocalize it. "You're so goddamn beautiful, you know that?" he'll say like you've cursed him. Cradling your face and taking your mouth.

You never have to tell this man more than once to touch or have sex with you. It's part of his daily routine a this point. And definitely one of his favorite ways to bond with you. But now that you're pregnant, it's as if the sex between you two has shifted into another plane of pleasurable existence. Never getting enough of it, even moments after finishing. But on the days you're not up for it, he respects it. And doesn't mind defaulting to cuddling, before dozing off to sleep with you in his arms. (But he eagerly counts down the time for when you're in the mood again.)

Kayn tries not to show to much of his softer-side; he rather be the one to have his shoulder wet than yours. But at your ultrasound appointment, once it's confirmed you're having a girl, his whole punk 'fuck only the hot police' persona collapses. You notice him clear his throat, and quickly swipe a knuckle at the corner of his eyes. He masks this dent of composure by huffing a laugh, "Guess I'm, uh...going to be kicking the crap out of a lot of asses later."

[hauntedestheart]

Transcript: "You Know The Face" Episode 47 - Blaise Gigson

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and resemblance to any real life persons is completely intentional, lol, but to spare the virgin eyes of the search algorithm I changed the name.

[Theme tune plays]

Arsenio: Hey there listeners, welcome back to "You Know The Face," the best podcast out there devoted to discussing the great changes that The Great Shift brought about.

Arsenio: As always, I'm your host Arsenio Braxton, still here and still me, and for this episode I'm by a very special guest- you might know the face, Blaise Gigson is here in the studio! Hi Blaise, welcome to the pod.

Blaise: Hey Arsenio! Thanks having me, I'm a huge fan of the show. This podcast is like, the soundtrack to my morning runs.

Arsenio: Oh my god, dude, I'm blushing! You've been one of our most requested guests for a while now so it's such a pleasure to finally have you here in the studio with us. And I want to let the listeners at home know, this guy is even bigger in person.

Blaise: Okay, now you're making me blush. I'll admit it, I always do fifty pushups before getting on camera just to make sure I look my best- does that make me sound weird?

Arsenio: I mean, it's healthier than my pre-show ritual, which is just a Red Bull and a shot of vodka. Now I'm gonna be calling you Blaise, but that wasn't the name you were born with, right?

Blaise: Yup, just like most people I was shifted into this body.

Arsenio: BUT, unlike most people, after the shift you decided to adopt the name of the original owner of that body. What inspired you to make that choice?

Blaise: Well I flipped a coin and- nah, I'm just joking. How do I explain this... the shift changed everything, you know? Not just our bodies, but the whole world. I don't really think that any of us are who we used to be, even the people who didn't shift, so taking on a new name just felt natural. Plus I think I'm kind of a special case since I swapped into a celebrity- I get recognized all the time, every day people come up to me on the street and call me "Blaise," so I figured I might as well just embrace that.

Arsenio: Oh that's true, I never thought of it like that. See, that's what I love about doing this show- getting all of these different perspectives. A lot of the people I talk to on this pod mention that they try stay connected to who they were before the shift, but it sounds like you're just full steam ahead. You very famously don't like to talk about who you were before at all, is that right?

Blaise: Nah, not really. A lot of people think that means I was a criminal or something and I'd like to say for the record that I was not, but I don't like to sweat the small things like who I used to be. I'm just focused on who I am today! And I think I make a pretty good Blaise Gigson, don't you?

Arsenio: Absolutely, man, you're crushing it. But I gotta ask, has the real Blaise Gigson tried to get in contact with you?"

Blaise: Try, like, eight Blaise Gigsons. That's the thing about swapping with a celebrity- there's a lot of creeps out there who were obsessed with you that think about this as their chance to get in on the action. Since it was impossible to figure out who was telling the truth, I had to just block all of them. For safety reasons.

Arsenio: Oh, so you don't talk to any of them? But aren't you worried you might be shutting out the real Blaise?

Blaise: Well, wherever he is he can rest easy knowing that I'm taking good care of his body. If you're out there watching Blaise, this one's for you!

Arsenio: Oh, and there it is! The famous bicep. Would you mind doing it again, just for me?

Blaise: Mind? I'd love to, these things are awesome.

Arsenio: No arguments here... actually, let's pivot and talk about that for a second. Now, we all knew that Blaise Gigson was a hottie with a body, but you've sexed up his image a lot since assuming the reigns. I'm sure most of our listeners have probably seen a certain viral video-

Blaise: The workout stream, yeah.

Arsenio: Dude. you broke the internet with that one! Seeing you all hot and sweaty, flexing all those muscles on the floor... pretty iconic if you ask me. Can one of the producers insert the clip here?

Arsenio: Damn daddy! Sorry, I shouldn't be thirsting over you while you're right here in front of me, they're gonna have to edit this part out or else before get cancelled haha.

Blaise: Nah, don't sweat it man. Trust me, no one gets it more than I do- you think looking at this body is great? Try living in it. Like, I'll admit it, I get turned on watching those clips too. I look fucking hot there.

Arsenio: So I think it's safe to say the "himboification" of the Blaise Gigson brand was a conscious decision on your part?

Blaise: Honestly? A little bit yes, a little bit no. I mean, it wasn't something I planned on when I first got this body, it just kind of happened. Like one day I just woke up and I was a famous hunk... of course I was gonna get a little wild, right? I couldn't resist showing off a bit. At first I was worried that I was going a bit overboard but people have really been responding to it.

Arsenio: Yeah I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who "responded" to that video, if you catch my drift.

Blaise: I hope so! I mean, think about it. When I was just a nobody sitting at home I would have killed to see my celebrity crushes take their clothes off and just, I don't know, start slutting it up. And so now that I am one of those guys I used to dream about, I wanna make that fantasy a reality for everybody else.

Blaise: Like, come on, don't the people deserve to see all of this?

Arsenio: I completely agree. Actually, could we see a little bit more, for the camera? Or even just for me?

Blaise: Haha, maybe later.

Arsenio: Alright, I'm gonna hold you to that. But we should probably get moving or else this episode is gonna wind up being four hours, haha. As the listeners know, I started this podcast because I was one of the few people not affected by The Great Shift, so I'm always fascinated by the stories of people who were. Let's get yours Blaise- can you walk us through your shift experience? What was it like for you that first morning?

Blaise: The thing I'll always remember about waking up was the weight. Being in a body like this one that's built like a tank, that's a lot of muscle, and muscle is one of the heaviest things in the body. I knew something was different before I even opened my eyes because I could feel how much space I was occupying. And that kinda freaked me out!

Blaise: But all of that weight is actually strength, and the second I started moving I knew that whatever had happened to me was a good thing.

Blaise: I'll never forget this- the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes and looked down was this giant chest blocking my view. I was so confused I tried like, wipe them off because I thought they were something stuck to me, but nope! I just had massive pecs all of the sudden. And then I got distracted just, like, squeezing them.

Arsenio: That's so funny- I hear that exact same story all the time, but from shifted women. I think you're the first guy to have the classic "boob grab" experience, haha!

Blaise: Hey, it's a classic for a reason! I say when you've got tits like these, you give 'em a squeeze. But I realized pretty quickly that there was a whole body underneath my chest, and that... woof. I was actually confused at first because I'd never touched a six-pack before so I was like "what the fuck is going on with my stomach" when I first felt it- I wasn't used to my body being so hard.

Blaise: The new core strength was incredible too- like, just sitting up felt better than it ever had before. And when I sat up and the blankets slid off of me and I saw my new body for the first time, I was shocked. I'd never seen someone with that many muscles in my life, and suddenly I had the best seat in the house. And by "best seat," I mean I had a dump truck ass.

Arsenio: Sounds like you were in bed for a minute then.

Blaise: A minute? Try two hours. I was alone with the body of my dreams and I could do anything with it, so I- well, you can probably guess what I did next.

Arsenio: I bet I can and I would love to hear about it, maybe even see a demonstration, but I think we should move on before we get demonetized. When you finally got out of bed, did you recognize yourself when you looked in the mirror?

Blaise: Recognize myself? Dude, I basically creamed myself. Blaise was one of my biggest celebrity crushes and seeing that face staring back at me from the mirror... just, words can't even describe it. Having all of this body and the face to match? The beard? This jawline? These lips? I'm handsome as fuck.

Arsenio: Dude, I'm so jealous right now you have no idea. So you weren't scared that you'd woken up in a completely new body?

Blaise: I mean, I was confused, but I thought it was just me, you know? I thought it was some kind of Freaky Friday situation and I'd just been zapped into this body so like, he could learn a lesson about the meaning of Christmas or something. I didn't learn about the shift until later.

Arsenio: And then did you freak?

Blaise: Nah. I feel selfish when I say that because I know how scared so many people are, and I feel for them I really do, but I was excited. I wasn't really thinking about anybody else, I was just excited to be Blaise.

Arsenio: And so we're heading on over a year since the shift- how are you settling in to your new body? It's quite an impressive physique and you've maintained it well.

Blaise: Thanks- keeping up with the gym routine was definitely one of my top priorities. Letting a body like this go to waste would have been a tragedy.

Blaise: But to answer your question, I'm still not entirely used to this body yet, and honestly, I hope I never am. It's fun always feeling surprised, you know? I'll just be going about my day and then I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and remember that holy shit, I'm a fucking stud, and I get excited all over again. It hits me at the strangest times.

Blaise: Muscles are cool because they're like... they're always there, you know? I get a little show every time I look down. And the thing about it is- I'm not bragging, this is just a fact -I'm so ripped now that a bit of bulging is inescapable. People are always saying that I'm a tease but half the time I don't even realize that I'm doing it, it's just a side effect of existing while being this hot.

Arsenio: Damn, and here I thought you were doing this especially for me. Well, it's nice to see that fame hasn't gone to your head!

Blaise: Haha, I mean, when the head looks this good, I can afford it!

Arsenio: I can't argue with that, that is one big beautiful head you've got there. Blaise really is just a stunning man.

Blaise: Aren't I? It's great. I was kinda nervous when I started being active on Blaise's accounts because at first I felt like I was impostor or something like that, but I knew I had to keep posting because people deserved to see this face. I get a lot of hate comments from people saying "you shouldn't be doing this" and stuff like that, but I block them out and focus on the positive ones. There's a lot more of those anyways.

Blaise: It sounds shallow but like, as a hot guy, I hold a lot of power. I've been on the other side of the screen, looking through it at those gorgeous faces, so I'm very aware what an important escape a bit of thirst content can be. Now that I have this face, this body, I can make so many people happy just by taking some clothes off and posting a picture. Why wouldn't I want to do that?

Blaise: That's why the content shifted. Less comedy videos, more thirst, workout videos, photoshoots- the stuff people really wanted to see all along. I love sharing the gift of this body with the world.

Blaise: I don't take anything for granted anymore, I live my life to the fullest, and I want to invite all of my followers into that. Especially after everything the world has been through since the shift, I want people to be able to open up their phone, see this sexy smile, and know that it's possible to still be happy. That there's still beauty in the world.

Arsenio: Oh my god, Blaise, I didn't expect us to be getting so deep on this episode.

Blaise: Hey, I'm more than just a pretty face... I've got a great ass too.

Arsenio: That you do, Blaise, that you do. So, Blaise, let's lighten the mood a bit and jump to one of our listener's favorite sections- and if you've listened to the show before you know what I'm going to ask you next. What's your favorite part of being in your new body?

Blaise: My favorite part? I'll give you two guesses.

Blaise: I love being a walking, talking gun show. Like I look down and I just think wow, I get to own these arms.

Arsenio: Yeah those are some killer pipes man.

Blaise: Dude you have no idea, I'm so fucking strong now. I'm still not over how like... round they are? It's like someone shoved a football under my skin, they tear my shirts if I'm not careful. I'm never gonna get tired of watching them flex.

Blaise: Every part of this body is great actually but I wanna give a special shoutout to my thighs actually- I'm thicker than a bowl of oatmeal. I just love having some meat on these bones, you know? I never skip a leg day.

Arsenio: Oh trust me, I can tell. And Blaise, you know I gotta ask because it's the question everyone's dying to know the answer to... how big is it?

Blaise: I'm gonna have to plead the fifth on that one actually- I'm currently in talks with a few different studios that have some ideas about how we can unveil that particular part of my new brand. But... let's just say that Blaise was a big boy, and he didn't disappoint. It's hard for me to make it through the day without fondling myself all the time, pun very much intended.

Blaise: This is so embarrassing but I actually had trouble pissing when I first got this body because every time I whipped my dick out to piss I'd get a boner from the sight of it- it's a grower, I'll tell you that much.

Arsenio: Damn, well, there you have it listeners! An exclusive!

Blaise: Oh god, I can just hear my publicist in my head screaming at me right now. Can you edit that out?

Arsenio: No, no, we are definitely leaving that in! This is the kind of content the people want to hear.

Blaise: Haha, well, I'm always happy to give the people what they want. But yeah, if you're really curious about what little Blaise looks like, keep an eye on my socials. Big things on the horizon... very big.

Arsenio: We'll be sure to put links to your accounts in the episode description. Moving on, I feel like I know the answer but here's one that we ask everybody: if you could switch back to your old body, would you?

Blaise: ...Sorry, what? I got distracted for a second.

Arsenio: Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyways, Blaise, you know what's more exciting than waking up to find yourself in the body of a famous hunk? Today's sponsor, Squarespace...