#Resisting pain that easily is impressive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

godmadeaterribleerror · 15 days ago

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Chapter 6 - Everything I Do

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, light angst, love confession, smut (handjob, fingering, p in v sex), Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: The Mark reaches a breaking point. Usual Warnings, little angst, lotta smut.

Author's Note: I am of the firm belief Rowena would’ve said cunt religiously if the CW wasn’t full of a bunch of pussies.

Chapter title from Video Games by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.7k

Read on A03!

Chapter 5

Dean can breathe. Not easily, but he can. He can feel the weight of something airy and thin wrapped around him, stuck to his skin and far too heavy. There’s a hand on his brow, and it’s not the right one. Dean’s not sure what the right one would even be, but he knows it’s not this one. This one feels a little wrinkled, and the nails are too long, and it doesn’t satiate the betterlust. It’s just there, pressed to his skin like it’s looking for something and not all too pleased with what it finds.

The longer it’s there, the more the betterlust pounds and stabs and scrapes at him. Rots his guts and carves open his skull and rips through his chest. It’s searching for something that’s not there, and Dean’s head is too clouded with pain and ache and sickness to figure out where he should even be looking. Not in the hand. Not in the thing around him like a shroud–hot and clinging to him like a plague—but maybe somewhere close. Because wherever Dean is—he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have enough of a brain to guess right now—it’s unfamiliar, but feels right. He’s lying on something soft, and it smells good, and when his fingers flex, they’re tracing over an impression left on the area next to him. An indent left on the space by something that could curve and press into Dean exactly like he wants. Craves. Needs.

The betterlust starts to flare and bellow, almost drowning out the low voices around him, and Dean knows he might die if he doesn’t find what fits into that impression and take it.

“How long has he been like this?”

“I’m not sure, a few hours?”

“Well can you try to be sure, Samuel?”

“I got here the same time you did, how am I supposed to be sure-“

“Ask our resident Dean Expert, the poor girl has been stuck with him all week-“

“No, I’m not going to make her do more. And, uh,” there’s a long sigh, and Dean still isn’t really sure what’s going on, or who these people are, or why they’re talking about him. “I don’t think it’s safe for her right now. To be around him. He said he didn’t want her-“

“He obviously lied, you idiotic boy-“

“He didn’t want her to know, Rowena. And it’s not my place to tell her-“

“She’s a big girl, she’ll survive a little bit of emotions.”

“He’d, he’d fucking kill me-“

“And he will kill himself if he does not accept what he needs! It’s quite honestly a miracle he was a stubborn enough arse to resist the Mark’s demands this long.”

Dean’s really fucking confused. There are two voices, one that sounds a little like his and one that very much doesn’t, and they’re both talking about him like he’s important. He doesn’t feel important. He mostly just feels tired, and bad, and sick. Sweaty and hungry and desperate for something he can’t name, but they say he needs to name or he’ll die, and he doesn’t even really know what names are right now-

“If I tell her, this becomes her responsibility-“

“Well, Dearie, I wasn’t aware you were stupid and blind-“

“Hey-“

“You cannot look me in the eyes and say that she would not welcome the responsibility, boy. She is so pathetically obsessed with him it makes me feel ill.”

Dean felt his mouth try to frown—he can’t figure out how to move, so it more of a twisted grimace—as he racked his mush of a brain to figure out who they could possibly be referring to. He couldn’t remember names, but he could remember presences. Remember that the voice like his was good, and he was supposed to protect it. The voice that wasn’t like his was bad, and kind of a bitch, but helpful when they ran out of options. There wasn’t a third voice, but there was a smell that he really liked. Loved. Craved. Needed-

That was the imprint. And it wasn’t here right now, but the betterlust and already spiraling around it and constricting his lungs as he tried to find it. He needed it, and it didn’t need him, and he was going to die-

“I know,” the familiar voice sighed. “Believe me, I know, but I can’t ask that of her-“

“She’ll shred your sorry arse apart if you don’t-“

“And Dean will put a bullet through my brain if I do!”

“He will die before he gets the chance. Have I not made it clear that, unless Dean receives the help our lovely, pretty, lovesick-“

Then the voice that wasn’t like Dean’s said a name, and the betterlust exploded inside him. He knew that name. He’d die and kill and cut himself to pieces for that name. He wanted it. He couldn’t have it. He needed it, more than he needs air or water or food or music. The betterlust demanded it, and was shredding apart his insides because he refused to take it, but was also lending him the strength to find it. To find Her. Dean needed to fucking find Her, or nothing would ever be good again-

His eyes fly open, and for a long movement everything is only a blinding blur of color. There’s noise around him—both voices shouting words that sound like they’re for him but he can’t understand—and Dean’s brain kicks into a vigilant, borderline feral function as he hauls himself up, something pushes him back down, and the betterlust grew feral.

“Rowena, grab the other arm-“

“I am not meant for brute labor, Samuel-“

“Are you fucking kidding me-“

Dean roars Her name clawing and grabbing at the air to try and go, try to get to Her, because he was going to fucking die, and the betterlust told him She could fix this, make this better, make Dean better-

“Oh for- Fine.”

The voice not like Dean’s says something he can’t understand, his whole body tightens. Like a weight has been dropped on his chest, and ropes have been wrapped around his limbs, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed with a noise that might have been a whine.

“Dean.” Rowena appears in his vision, her face drawn in annoyance. “Blink twice if you understand me.”

Dean scowls, but blinked twice.

“Good. Are you going to try and kill us again?”

Dean glowers at Rowena, keeping his eyes wide open in a gesture of no, and she sighs.

“Good boy. I’ll let you up, but if you ever try and grab my hair again, I’ll make you regret having hands, aye?”

The tension vanishes from Dean’s body, and he sits up slowly, pinch the bridge of his nose to try and curb the pounding ache behind his eyes, taking deep, mechanical breathes to get some fucking control over his body. Over the betterlust. Over himself.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?“

Sam looks worried. He’s frowning and scanning over Dean with concern, like there will be wound on his skin they can patch up to fix this.

But only one thing can fix this. And Dean still isn’t strong enough to not know where She is, not when all he can remember is dragging himself to Her room, and hearing her voice, and seeing her pretty face before it all went dark.

Dean mutters Her name, his voice low and gruff, and Sam and Rowena freeze. “Where is she.”

“She’s eating.” Sam mutters, bracing his hands on his hips. “I told her to get some rest. You freaked her out, dude, she-“ Sam shakes his head, giving Dean a look he doesn’t understand, and doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher. “She was really shaken, when we got back. She needs-“

“She needs you.” Rowena interrupts Sam, and he shoots her a venomous glare. “You’re too much of a meat-headed dolt to see it, but that darling girl looked as if she’d been devastated over you.”

“Rowena.” Sam hisses. “We agreed-“

“You agreed. I made no promises-“

Dean raises his hands—they both need to shut up, or his skin will fly off his body—and their argument stutters off.

“How bad is it.” He looks to Rowena, the moment alone an act of labor. “And don’t try to lie or sugarcoat it. How long I got.”

Rowena sighs. “If you insist on keeping your head up your own arse, a day. Maybe two.”

“But we’re going to try to reverse it.” Sam jumps in, his voice desperate. “And Rowena gave you something to keep you going-“

“But, as I told your brother,” Rowena’s words are harsh, and Dean appreciates it. This really isn’t the fucking time for dancing around anything. “It is a very temporary solution, and the reversal will take time you no longer have. There is an obvious fix to your little problem-“

Dean lets out a dry chuckled. “My problem? Last I checked, Rowena, you were the one who fucked this up-“

“I did not fuck anything up, you petulant man child-“

“Rowena-“

“No!” Rowena cuts off Sam with sharp words, holding Dean’s glare. “I did my job, Dean Winchester, but you are too much of an arrogant, brooding little cunt to do yours.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Watch it, bitch-“

“I did not have to help you,” Rowena hisses. “But that poor, desperate, lovesick woman begged me to. You know exactly what you need, and you are too cruel and stupid to do it.”

Dean’s hands curl into fists on the sheets. “I said fucking watch it-“

“She’s right.” Sam mutters, and Dean’s gaze whips to him, his mouth falling open at Sam’s pitying, exhausted expression.

“I’m sorry, I must be going insane, because there’s no fucking way you just sided with Rowena-“

“I didn’t side with her.” Sam snaps, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head. “I’m just trying to get you to think for five seconds. I’m trying not to lose my brother because he can’t see what’s right in front of him-“

Dean scoffs. “There’s nothing in front of me, Sam. Rowena botched the spell, and now I can’t do anything but-“ He cuts himself off with a groan, a stab of pain twisting over his ribs, and Sam throws his hands in the air.

“For crying out loud, Dean, you’re dying because of this self-righteous, sacrificial bullshit you always pull! Rowena didn’t botch the spell, you’re just refusing to give the Mark what it wants, and until you do-“

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Dean roars, slamming a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck, Sam, I’m not going to force myself onto her just because-“

“Because you think she’ll say no?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, you can’t be stupid enough to really believe that-“

Dean scowls. They don’t fucking get it. Sam and Rowena don’t know Her like Dean does. They don’t understand that She would say yes, but she wouldn’t really want it, and Dean would stain and mark Her in a way that they’d never come back from. She’d never smile at him the same, and he’d have to die alone in the dirt when she finally got the memo that he wasn’t worth helping. When She left him, her soul more tainted than when she’d found him. When his poison sunk into Her skin, and she would still be so pretty and amazing, but ruined and marred from Dean’s touch. From how weak and pathetic and toxic he was.

He couldn’t do that. He’d rather fucking die.

“Just drop it, Sammy.” Dean mutters, his gaze falling to that imprint of Her on the bed. Her bed. Dean was finally in Her bed, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it. “It’s not happening. And you’re not going to convince me, so either fix this, or let me die without goddamn yelling at me.”

There’s a moment of wired silence, Rowena silent in the corner of the room as Sam and Dean glare at each other, and Sam shakes his head like he can’t believe Dean’s nerve. Like Dean isn’t saving the only good thing they both have. Protecting the only person that’s stayed with them, that they both love, even if Dean’s love is made of undying, animalistic, grime and dirt covered devotion, and Sam’s is purer, softer affection that could never cut and scar Her like Dean’s.

“She was crying.” Sam finally says, his tone colder than Dean’s heard it in a long time. “When we got back, she was sobbing, Dean. Have you ever seen her cry? Ever?”

He hasn’t. Dean has seen Her grit her teeth and bite back sounds of agony from injuries, seen Her scream and flail when they’ve lost people, and seen Her so angry it scared him a little, but he’s never seen Her cry. She didn’t cry. Her eyes got glossy, and her voice grew tight and choked, but she didn’t cry. Sam has to be lying, and he doesn’t look or sound like he is, but he has to be. She doesn’t cry, so why the hell would that be the truth? But why would Sam lie, and why has She stayed this long, and fuck, everything hurts and Dean’s too damn tired to figure out what the hell Sam is trying to tell him but the betterlust is scratching at his heart to know-

“Sam,” Dean swallows, watching his brother carefully. “I-“

There’s a knock at the door, and everything in Dean flies to the sound. It’s Her. Before Sam’s hand is even on the doorknob, Dean somehow knows it’s Her. Here. Maybe for him, maybe not, but the betterlust doesn’t seem to care because it’s Her-

She looks horrible. Still so fucking pretty, but horrible. There’s a slump to Her posture as she stands in the door—hair tangled and shirt wrinkled—and Her gorgeous face is slightly puffed. Her lips pouting. Her eyes lined with red.

Like She’s been crying.

Sam says Her name in question, and when She speaks her voice is hoarse.

“Look, I know you to told me to rest, but-“ Her mouth falls open as her eyes land on Dean, and Her sharp inhale feels like it shoots adrenaline right into his blood.

He tries to offer Her a winning, I’d be happy to see me too smile, but it doesn’t feel right on his face. It feels too vulnerable, where it’s always been like a shield. It feels like it’s a lie, or trick, or act of cruelty when Dean’s rarely met a woman who doesn’t flush and giggle under that attention. It’s supposed to make him feel good from their happy, hopeful eyes. It’s supposed to make them feel good from Dean’s well-crafted, carefully wielded charm.

But right now he still just feels like shit. Bottom of the gutter, horrible, flea-ridden and matted shit. A fucking piece of shit that might have made Her cry, and isn’t even smart enough to know why.

He tries again, making the smile wider, adding his most casual drawl. “Hey, Sweetheart-“

She makes a strangled sound—loud and pained, making the betterlust start to snap at Dean’s brittle spine—and all but runs to the bed, almost falling to Dean’s side as Her hands begin to grab at his face and run over his skin. Angling him for Her to examine with frantic eyes and words, igniting little paths of insatiable fire wherever She touches.

“Are you okay?!” She turns his head to the side, her fingers tracing his jaw and cheek like boils or scars might have just appeared. “Your fever is gone,” the back of Her hand presses to his brow, flipping to touch it with Her palm. “But shit, you’re covered in sweat-“ Her glare whips around to Sam, Her grip still tight on Dean’s face. He doesn’t really mind. The betterlust is still trying to climb out of his throat, but he can fight it—for Her—and this can be enough. It’s all he’ll get before he’s gone anyway. Her touch, and loud almost furious shout at Sam. “Why didn’t you change the sheets like I told you to-“

“He was dead weight,” Sam says Her name, his voice a hell of a lot kinder than when he’d been talking to Dean. “And you also told us to make sure he got some rest. Rowena said the fever broke, and he’s lucid again-“

“But this is gross Sam, and you could’ve moved him if you tried-“

“Moved him where? He started freaking whimpering when we took away your comforter-“

Dean scowls. “Can you guys stop talkin’ about me like I’m not right fucking here-“

Her gaze turns back to Dean, the odd, aggressively mind-numbing panic and care returning to her eyes as she begins to examine him once more.

“You seem better, but you’re redder than you should be, and, shit, was that scar always there-“

Her finger’s trial over Dean’s chin, dangerously close to his mouth, and he has to bite down a groan as he says Her name. “That’s been there at least a decade-“

“What about this one-“

“Three years, you were there when I got it-“

“Fuck, you’re right.” She shakes her head, Her eyes suddenly boaring into Dean’s and settling warmth in his gut. “Well, are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt, or feel sick, or feel numb-“

“Sweetheart.” He catches Her hand, and she falls silent with wide eyes. “I’m-“

“And,” She moves his gaze onto Her’s, and fuck She’s always so pretty. Even when She’s pissed at him. Especially when She’s pissed at him. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Winchester, I’ll stab you-“

He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, but maybe the realest sound he’s made since he woke up. “I don’t doubt that, Sweetheart.” He drawls, and she lets his guide Her hands away from his face. “But I promise, I’m feelin’ better.”

She nods slowly, and Dean pretends he can’t see Sam’s eye roll in the background.

“Oh. Okay.” She turns at Sam and Rowena, her voice slightly unsteady and weak. “Have you, um, have you both been in here? The whole time I was eating?”

Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” She swallows, and Dean notices Her body go slightly rigid. Sam must notice too, because he tilts his head and frowns at her.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just…” She trails off, staring at her nails as her voice drop to a mumble. “There’s a lot of people in here. Makes me nervous.”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam says Her name, his voice apologetic. “Didn’t know that. We can go, if you want.”

There’s a long moment where She’s just staring at Sam, Her mouth slightly open, and her body curled in on itself like she’d been punched. Sam repeats Her name, his voice cautious, and when She snaps out of it, her voice is still soft and anxious.

“That would be good.” She whispers. “Thank you.”

Sam nods. “No problem. Me and Rowena,” he shoots the witch a glare, and she rolls her eyes. “Are gonna go try to fix this. Text me if you need anything, either of you.”

She hums an acknowledgment, Her attention never leaving Dean as Sam and Rowena close the door, and Dean’s whole existence begins to curve into only the feeling of Her as her fingers trace over the back of his hand.

After a long moment of silence—only the sound of Dean’s heart in his ears and the shifting of blankets under their bodies—she swallows, her voice barely a breath. “They can’t fix it, can they.”

He blinks at Her. “They’re gonna get it-“

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” She gives him a soft smile that makes her look like she’s already grieving, and something in him lights up and withers away in the same second. “Please.”

He swallows. He is really tired of lying to Her. And he can say something closer to the truth and still hold his ground. He’s not quite that weak. Not yet.

“It’ll be close.” He grunts. “But I’ve survived worse. I just gotta pull through-“

“You don’t, though.” She whispers. “Rowena said you just have to-“

“Rowena can eat me.” Dean mutters, glaring at the door. “I’m not doin’ whatever the hell the Mark tells me to, that was the fucking point of this.”

“The point was to help you, Dean.” She sounds so freaking sad, and it’s pulling Dean apart. His will and mind all being reduced to Her. Too good and pretty to be sad. And it’s just Dean. She shouldn’t be this sad over only Dean.

“Sweetheart-“

“I don’t,” She swallows, speaking over Dean with quiet, soft words. “I don’t know why you’re being such an ass, Dean. Why can’t you just do what the betterlust wants? Isn’t it what you want-“

“It is.” Dean has to push the words through his teeth, because She so close and it’s not close enough and everything fucking hurts. “But I can’t have it, so we’re dead in the water. But Sammy and Rowena-“

“Dean.”

He can’t look Her in the eyes. Her voice is so gentle and nervous, and he’s not strong enough to look Her in the eyes and see all that worry and pity in them. He can barely even grunt an acknowledgment for her to continue.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Is it me?” She whispers, and Dean’s eyes shoot to Her’s. He can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but stare at Her and try not to die as he realizes this is it. This is how he loses Her. Forever. This is the last time he gets to look at Her and bask in her beauty and kindness, the last time he gets to drown in the smell of cherries and feel a little more alive under Her touch.

But She doesn’t look afraid, or disgusted. She just looks urgent. Desperate. As confused and hopelessly hopeful as Dean feels.

And he can’t speak, or think, or do anything but stare at Her as she speaks again.

“Dean, do you,” She takes a shaking breath, and Dean needs to touch Her. “Do you love me?”

——————

He’s not saying anything. Dean’s looking at you like you’ve shot him right through his heart, ripped it out, and taken a bite. Gaping like he’s trying to ask you for it back but can’t find the breath to, blinking like he’s trying to test if you’re really there. He reaches a hand up to run over his own face, reaches out to touch you—trace broad, calloused fingers over your cheekbones and jaw, over your chin like he’s wiping something you can’t see away—and jerks back suddenly, like you’d hurt him. Burned him. Branded him.

He’s branded you. You’re never going to forget his voice in your head, sounding like he’s overdosed on something awful, and doesn’t think he’ll come back down. Like he’s trying to cleanse himself of something by whispering words that will either haunt you past the grave or feed you for the rest of your life. Your heart will never forget the way it stopped for only a second before kicking into a pace that was all too fast when Dean’s eyes closed, and your hands will always remember the cold fever of his skin.

“Dean.” You have to make your voice strong. Steady, like you’re demanding something from him and not praying to him. “Please-“

“Why-“ His voice is hoarse, almost strangled, and it makes your every muscle feel a little weaker. “Why would you ask that.”

“I’m, I can’t tell you, just please answer me-“

“Did Sam tell you-“

“Sam?” You frown, shaking your head slightly. “No, I just, this has nothing to do with Sam-“

“Then why the hell are you-“

“What would Sam have told me?”

Dean falls silent, opening and closing his mouth as he goes red, his eyes looking almost feral. He looks like a cornered animal, something starved and needy, unsure if it should bite the hand reaching for it or grab it and never let go.

You want to hold him and never let go. You want him to grab your hand, and hold it, and never think to drop it again. You want to hear him say those words again, and have his voice be certain. You want to touch him, no matter if he’s like this or breaking or furious or—in those rare, priceless moments—happy. And you need to know. Dean’s never owed you anything, and he never will, but if there’s only one thing that he can offer you in universe, it would be really nice if it was this. If Dean ever gives you anything, please, dear God, let it be this.

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to his knee and holding his almost fearful, rabid gaze. “Please answer me. Tell me what Sam-“

“He,” Dean swallows, voice gruff. “He wasn’t supposed to say anything. He fucking swore he’d never-“

“He didn’t.” You repeat, unsure if he’s even understanding the words out of your mouth. “All I’ve talked to Sam about is the spell. But why-“

“Rowena.” He mutters, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Rowena must’ve open her bitch mouth-“

“I haven’t really talked to Rowena at all-“

“Must’ve been some fucking spell-“

“Dean!” You scream, your nails digging into his leg like you can hold him with you forever. “It was you! You told me you loved me! You had a fever and you told me you loved me, you said my name, and I just,” Your voice cracks, desperation starting to break through your blood, out of your mouth in spit. “I need to know, please, you need to tell me if you meant it-“

“Sweetheart-“

“Please.” You refuse to look him in the eyes. The moment you look in Dean’s deep, pretty eyes you’ll know what he’s thinking, and you’ll lose him forever. Everything in you is screaming to know, but you’re still not able to just look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, please tell me.”

“Why.”

For a second you’re not sure if you heard him right. The question startles you enough to make you look up, and the moment you see him something snaps inside of you. He looks wounded. Nervous. Almost as afraid of you—of your words, and what they might be capable of doing to him if you use them wrong—as you are of him.

“Why would you need to know.” He rasps, staring at his own hands. Flexing in his lap, seemingly against his will. “You’re not- It’s not somethin’ you’re-“ He looks up to you, his eyes almost pleading. “Why would you give a shit about-“

“About you?”

Dean’s throat bobs, his nod short, and you summon more bravery than you’ve ever been capable of before. Enough to reach out, over the space between your bodies that so small—but still feels like miles—and place your hand on his cheek. Keeping his gaze on yours.

“I always care about you. I-” You take a shaking breath, the last words falling off your tongue. “I love you.”

Dean’s hand shoots up to cover yours. To hold you against him, with a grip that tells you he might be trying to sear his skin into yours.

“You-“ His voice is so soft. His hand over yours is like iron, but everything else about him seems to be dreamlike. Hazy and uncertain, both of you watching each other like you’re sure the other will vanish if you look away. “You love me?”

“Yeah,” you try to smile at him, and it’s not charismatic. It’s pleading and tragic and so fucking delicate. “I do. I mean, I have. For a while.”

“How-“

“Four years.“

He blinks at you. “No, I, I meant-“ He swallows, shaking his head. “I meant how. How did that happen.”

It’s your turn to frown at him. “How did that happen?”

“You shouldn’t love me.” He mutters, his hand over yours flexing. Like he’s trying to pull it away but doesn’t know how. “It’ll get you hurt.”

You raise your brows slightly, running your thumb over his cheek. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I-“

“Are you?”

“Of course not, I’d never-“

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why-“

“It does.” You whisper, folding your legs under you to rise on your knees, dropping your brow to his. Holding his gaze the whole time. “It matters to me, Dean.“

He makes a choked sound, but doesn’t move away. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You whisper. “And it would be really cool if you loved me.”

Dean’s only staring at you, his eyes flicking between your own, slightly blurred gaze that can still see him so well, and your lips.

“And it happened,” you push on, your voice growing a little weak when he still doesn’t respond. “Because it’s really easy to love you, Dean Winchester. You’re a good man.” You offer him a smile, and his own mouth falls open just a little. “And even if you don’t love me, I wouldn’t have you any other-“

Something in Dean’s eyes flickers, and he moves before you’re sure what’s happening. Yanking you into his lap with his hand—fingers now tangled in yours—catching you with an arm around your waist, and kissing you.

Kissing you. Dean’s kissing you.

Your body sparks into action—even as your brain becomes fogged with a hazy, Dean-shaped lust—and you fist a hand into his shirt, pulling him as close as the world will allow. He’s holding you so carefully, leaning down in a slight dip, and there could be a storm raging around you instead of the soft, romantic rain this feels like it belongs to, but you wouldn’t know. Because this is a kiss people wage wars over.

It’s louder than music in your ears and electric in your blood, but sparks isn’t a strong enough word. It’s like lightning. Shooting through your spine and lighting up every nerve in your body to Dean. Soft lips molding perfectly into yours, warm and calloused hands skillfully mapping over your skin, a groan down your throat that you can feel settle in your lower gut and start a wildfire. You’ve been hungry and you’ve never dared to eat, but Dean is here now and you’ll either be starved for the rest of your life or never want for anything again.

When Dean tries to pull away, you just follow him. Chase after his lips with yours, trying to get just a little more before this all comes tumbling down. Before the thought can even dare to cross Dean’s mind—that he’s not good for you, and he should go—because this is all you’ve ever wanted and you’ll be damned if you don’t cling to it for as long as he’ll allow. You’ll fall all the way down, until your body is only supported by Dean below you, and you’ll forsake oxygen until your body demands it. Maybe a little while after, too.

And Dean doesn’t seem to care to let you go. Every time he tries to pull back it’s a jerked movement, and every time you collide again he grows more and more feral. His groans turn into deep, animalistic growls, and his touch on your skin becomes rough. Not painful, never painful, but urgent. Uncontrolled. Pulling at your skin like he’s trying to meld it into his, kissing you with bruising force, bucking up into you with his hard cock brushing your inner thighs.

You grind down onto him once—when he hits closer to where you’re beginning to ache for him, and your own need grows stronger than you’re desire to let Dean control this—and he bites you. Dean catches your lip between his teeth, sucks in into his mouth, and grins like he’s won a prize when you whine a plea of his name.

“Holy shit,” he mutters your name, pressing his brow to yours as you both catch your breath, grabbing your waist to stop the next roll of your hips. “I’m not- I can’t do this to you-“

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you whisper. “I love you. I want this.”

Dean catches your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles and staring at the movement, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it. “Say you’re lying.”

You blink at him, and shake your head. “No.”

His eyes flash, shooting back to yours as he grunts your name. “You need to say you’re lyin’ right now, or I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” You lower your face back down, until you’re sharing Dean’s every breath. “Fuck me? Actually say you want me?”

His throat bobs, voice rough with lust. “You, I can’t fucking control it, sweetheart, if you’re fuckin’ with me you need to take it back now-“

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hand, forcing his darkened gaze back to yours. “Answer my fucking question.”

He shakes his head weakly. “You don’t-“

“I love you.” You hiss. You need to make sure he feels it, in the slightly spit on his face, that still tastes a little like him because it’s pushed through lips that are swollen from Dean, and Dean alone. You glide a hand down his chest, the kiss apparently fueling something bold inside you that hadn’t been there before. Your fingers trace down, over his abdomen—hardened from work but still soft in all the best places—and Dean takes in a sharp breath, his hands on your hips tightening enough to leave a mark, and you lean back. Just enough to open space between your bodies, just enough for you to palm him through his sweatpants.

He’s huge, and twitching under your careful, light fingers, and God, you need him inside of you in any fucking way—between your hands or filling your mouth or buried deep into your cunt—but Dean’s still just staring at you. His chest heaving, eyes so dark and wanting you might cum just from his attention, and nostrils flaring as you move your hand up, resting right over the hem of his pants.

“I love you, Dean,” you whisper, the rush of confidence barreling down as you wait for him to do anything. “And you need to tell me now that you don’t love me, or-“ you take a long breath, dragging up the last bit of your nerve. “You need to say you love me, and do something about it.”

Something shatters in Dean’s gaze for the last time, and whatever war he’s been waging with himself reaches a brutal end as he surges back up, kissing you with all spit and bloody need. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever dared to have on his tongue, and he might be trying to chew off a bit of you to keep.

He won’t need to. He has you. He’s had you for a while, and when he leans back to watch you with glazed, hungry eyes, his words seal some deep, fragile part of you to him forever.

“I love you,” Dean grunts your name, scanning over your face like he’s afraid the words will yank you from his hands. They won’t. “I need you. I gotta have you, but I’m- I’m not in control of it right now-“

“I can take it.” You push your hand into Dean’s sweats, taking his cock in your hand. He groans, eyelids fluttering, and when you run your thumb over the head of him—pressing into the weeping slit and squeezing just so lightly—he hisses your name like a prayer. “Please, Dean. I want it. Please.”

You pull down his pants with your free hand, taking his boxers with them, and start to slowly pump your hand up and down his impressive length. There will be bruising marks of Dean’s hands of your hips for a while, but you’ll survive. It’s worth it, to watch him unravel below you, to see Dean’s pretty eyes grow glazed with lust for you, feel his dick throb and hips jerk under your touch, hear his low growls and grunts as his jaw clenches and he doesn’t pull you away.

“God,” he moans your name, and you start to squirm above him, desperate for a bit of your own relief. “I wanna- Wanna taste you. Fuck you. Ruin you-“

“So do it,” you slip your other hand down—trusting Dean’s hold to keep you upright—and squeeze his balls. “You say you love me, Dean, but you haven’t proved it-“

The words do exactly what you’d wanted them to. Dean yanks your hand from around him, crashes his lips into yours with a fervor that might have been dangerous if it didn’t taste and sound and feel like Dean, and lets go.

His every movement is rough and uncontrolled, because his tether over every bit of will that had seemed to keep him restrained is gone, and in its wake is only the Mark. All its lust and fury and hunger, primal and focused on you. On taking what it wants.

And you’d give it to him, even if it left a few marks on your skin and bruising on your heart, but you realize that the Mark doesn’t seem to just want to use you. If it did, Dean wouldn’t be sucking on your neck and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while tracing big, warms hands around your body to palm your breasts. He wouldn’t allow you to grind onto him, or whimper his name, or scratch at his skin as he pulls you apart with barely anything at all. When he flips your over without any effort—only a low grunt and flex of his muscles—you feel like the most priceless bag of flour in the word. Perfect to be tossed around like that forever, but worth more to him—more the Mark—than just another body.

And you can’t see him anymore, but you don’t need to. You hear the sounds of him shuffling behind you, the muffled noise of his shirt being tossed onto the floor, and then his voice. Low and feral and saying your name in a way that makes your knees weak.

“Up.” He grunts, and you whine when he angles your hips up and pulls down your shorts, you already wet cunt being hit by the cold air. “So fuckin’ pretty, gonna ruin you, baby. You’re never gonna even think about a cock that’s not mine again-“

You nod a little stupidly, wiggling your ass back into him and moaning when his still-clothed erection presses right into you. “Fuck, Dean, please-“

He spanks your pussy—just once the stinging pleasure shooing up your spine—and you bury your face in the sheets to stifles your desperate moan.

“Need ya’ to listen.” He mutters. “You’re gonna have to talk to me, baby, lemme know what feels good, what you’re likin’, what you need more of-“

“You,” you gasp, and Dean chuckles, running a taunting finger between your folds. “God, I need you, Dean, need you so bad-“

“You need me?” He pushes the finger into your cunt, his body moving to covers yours as he whispers in your ear. “Need me to fuck this tight little pussy until you scream? Goddamn prove you how much I’ve wanted you, how much I’ve always wanted you-“

“Yes.” You nod frantically, grinding your ass up into him. “Show me, please show me-“

Dean moves your head to the side, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, and hums in satisfaction when he crooks that finger right up against that deep, sensitive spot inside of you, and your hands start to claw at the sheets.

Then he’s gone. Without warning Dean draws back, yanks his finger out without warning, spanks your pussy again—chuckling at the high, needy sound that escapes your lips—and presses one hand to your lower back to still your writhing as he shuffles behind you

“Tell me whatcha want, baby.” He mutters, moving his hand to rub up and down your thigh. “And I’ll get it for ‘ya. But you have,“ He slaps your pussy one last time for emphasis, and you can only moan. “To say what you-“

“Your cock.” You whisper, spreading your legs wider for his to see. To look at your wet pussy—need dripping down to your knee—and take whatever the Mark is asking of him. “Want your cock Dean. Want you to fuck me, no holding back, please-“

He slams into you without warning. Burying himself at the hilt in one brutal movement, groaning above you as you go limp under him, trying only to twist and touch him, only to push back and somehow get him deeper. You feel so full, so fucking high on the stretch of Dean inside you, but it’s not enough-

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” Dean starts to massage your ass, with one hand, the other holding you up in the air for him to use. “Better than I dreamed, feel like heaven, gonna fuck you so good like you deserve-“

“Dean, fuck-” you clench around him, the praise feeding right into your cockdrunk daze of Dean, and he groans.

“Don’t do that,” he grunts your name, and it sounds like an order. “I ain’t gonna last if you-“ He moans as you squeeze around his massive cock again, and pulls all the way out before slamming back into you with a growl.

Your mouth falls open, a sound like a mewl escaping your mouth, and Dean starts to fuck you. Really, properly fuck you into the mattress, with low groans and an unforgiving pace, bumping your cervix and snaking a hand around your stomach to pull you up to his chest, rubbing your clit until you’re wrecked and seeing stars, thrusting up into you like a jackhammer and keeping you so blissfully pleasured and warm.

“So fuckin’ good,” he growls your name in your ear, and you squeak. “Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ well, all warm and tight, made for me. You were fuckin’ made for me-“

Dean’s thumb and fore finger roll your clit in a tight circle, and you cum with a scream. Light and color lining your vision, the far-off sound of Dean’s filthy praise making your orgasm ride out and out and out until you’re sure you’ve reached something like heaven. Your vision is still blurred when the satisfaction has washed fully through you, and you realize Dean’s stopped moving.

His hand tangles in your hair, angling your face back for him to see, and fuck he’s so handsome. Breathing heavy in your ear, lips puffed from sucking and kiss your skin, eyes glazed but still focused on you.

You must look like an idiot. Your expression is slack and needy, your eyes glazed a lips parted, but Dean looks at you like you’re a diamond and his cock twitches inside you as your eyes meet.

“Shit, baby,” he mutters. “You gotta say somethin’-“

“That-“ You let out another moan, your pussy still fluttering around him. “Good.”

He chuckles, kiss the very corner of your mouth with a smirk. “You got full words, Sweetheart?”

You swallow, the full feeling of Dean—throbbing inside you, still rock hard, pushing against that heavenly spot but with just too little pressure to send you over once more—crashing into you, and you say the only thing you can think of.

“Keep going?”

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I- I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself-“

“Want you to use me.” You’re practically whining, and you’d be more embarrassed if the words didn’t make Dean jerk up into you. “Please-“

He groans your name, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m not- you’re-“

“I said don’t hold back.” You whisper, rolling your hips against him and feeling pride glow in your chest at his moan. “Fuck me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And there it is again. You say the exact right thing, the thing you knew would work, and Dean gives in. He shoves you down, flips you onto your back—pulling out for only a second as he adjusts you under him—and starts to fuck you like an animal. Rutting into you at a near inhuman speed, hitting your cervix with every thrust, every word a low growl that coils release tighter and tighter in your lower gut.

“So fuckin’ greedy,” he grunts, slamming a little rougher. “Wantin’ more, begging me to fuck you, so fucking pretty comin’ apart on my cock, tell me how good it feels, baby-“

“Good,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as the bed creaks around you, your whole body overwhelmed with pleasure. “Feel so full, Dean, feels so good, you’re so fucking big-“

He groans, and you start to babble. You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, because every word feels like it’s spilling from your mouth. But every inch of your brain trapped in Dean’s skin slapping against yours, his muscles flexing around you, the low and primal sounds rumbling out of his chest as his movements grow sloppy and his cock starts to throb inside of you, and you couldn’t think about anything else if you tried.

“You feel so good, Dean, please don’t stop, want you to cum, I-“ You gasp as he starts to kill up your neck, your hands shooting into his hair. “Fuck, Dean, please, so good, God, I love you-“

His mouth slams into yours, and your orgasm rushes through you like a tidal wave. Longer and powerful, leaving you so fucked out you can only whine under Dean’s body, toes curling and eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy flutters around him.

Dean pulls out, keeping one hand gently on your knee as he pumps himself with an almost blurring fist, and cums over your abdomen and thighs. It’s hot and sticky, and part of you wishes you’d had enough of a brain to ask him to let you taste it, but you’re so completely spent that when Dean collapses over you—a heavy, comfortable weight you’re more than happy to be trapped beneath—your brain wipes every other thought but Dean away, and you decide to just stay here. Where Dean’s face in buried in your neck, and your sore from all of it but there will never be a better pain to experience.

“I-“ Dean breaks the silence, words muffled in your skin. “I feel better.”

“Oh.” You huff a soft laugh. “Good.”

“What, uh, what should we tell Sammy?”

You tug on his hair, just enough to move his gaze back to yours. “That we had sex?”

“No,” Dean groans your name, a smile pulling at his lips. “About the Mark. But we should tell him that-“

You make a mock, dramatic gasp. “Dean Winchester, are you going to brag about sex to your brother-“

“It’s sex with you, Sweetheart.” He winks, rolling you both over and caging you comfortably against his chest. “And Sammy’ll be thrilled to hear it, he’s been on my ass for years-“

“Years?” You squeak. “How many years?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, all of them?”

“All of them?! What do you mean all of them-“

“I mean since I met you.” Dean starts to rub soothing circles on your back, his mouth curling in smug amusement. “Deep breathes, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You flush, still not really use to the baby thing. Or Dean’s hands on your skin, every touch lingering like an imprint that will never even try to fade. “Shut up-“

He shakes his head. “Nah. You love it.” A boyish, wide smile splits over his face. “You love me.”

You might die. You might explode into a million, tiny pieces of confetti and shimmering glass, because Dean looks so happy. There are no ghosts in his beautiful eyes, no loathing or dread stained over his perfect face. He’s happy, here, with you, and you’re not cruel enough to stop yourself from crawling up his chest and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I do love you,” you mumble against him, straddling his torso as you push yourself up flat palms. “But I’m still gonna tell you to shut up.”

He chuckles, the sound rolling and humming right into your blood. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean reaches up to tuck a little hair behind your ears, and freezes, his eyes trained on his forearm. On the Mark.

“We, uh,” he clears his throat, watching you carefully. “We do need to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “We do. But I, I think-“

You cut yourself off, taking his hand in yours and running light fingers over the Mark in thought. Dean stares up at you with a slight awe in his gaze that makes you feel almost important, and your words fall to a soft breath.

“If you want.” You whisper. “We can turn it back-“

“No.” He shakes his head, sounding almost panicked. “I’m not goin’ back to that shit, not now-“

“Dean.” Your fingers still on his arm. “Was it me? That the Mark wanted?”

He swallows, but nods, and you sigh.

“We’re going to have separate sometimes. And we can figure out the bloodlust-“

“We should have to figure it out though, you don’t gotta put up with that-“

“I know.” You smile at him, and it’s not hard. Smiling at Dean is never hard. “But I will.”

“Do you-“ He stares at you, tangling his fingers in yours. “Do you not want me to keep the betterlust? You can tell me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, for me-“

“God, no.” You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I’m just, I’m worried about what might happen when the betterlust decides I’m not enough. Or when this, um, when you-“

Dean says your name, slow and firm, and you swallow. “This is it for me. It’s you, and the Mark knows that. You’re gonna be more than enough, hell, you’re more than I deserve-“

“That’s not true.” You mumble. “You deserve the world.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “It’s adorable that you really believe that, baby, but-“

You scowl at him. “It’s the truth, Dean. You’re a good man, I meant what I said-“

“I know you did.” His charming, cowboy grins falters slightly. Not falling, but twisting into one you’ve never seen before. Still roguish, still well designed and stealing your breath, but with a slight crack that allows you to see deeper. To see the lonely part of him, that really thinks you don’t belong here with him. That’s trying to drag you into him, because he’s certain you’ll start running if he doesn’t. “But this,” he nods to the Mark. “Is still gonna be a problem. I’m still gonna be a problem-“

“You’re not a problem-“

He says your name, the word careful and tender and holy from his lips. It’s the best way you’ve ever heard it. The only way you want to hear it again. “Do you want me to keep the betterlust.”

You purse your lips, and nod.

“Words, baby-“

“Yes.” You whisper. “But I need you to promise me that if it stops working-“

“It won’t.” He shrugs, his voice flat, as if he’s speaking in fact. “And we’re gonna keep looking for a way to get this son of a bitch off. But we’re doin’ it together.” He pauses, scanning over your open features. “If that’s what you-“

You lean down, silencing him with a long, easy kiss. It’s not desperate anymore, but careful. Like you’re making art, or starting to spin a web that could unravel with a single tug, but neither of you will let it. You’ll never let this—whatever this becomes—fall apart. You’ll put your whole life into keeping Dean, fighting for him and helping him and reminding him that he’s not really a burden. Letting him remind you that he really does want you, and he’s never going to allow you to doubt that again.

“Together.” You speak against his lips, letting your content breath fall into his mouth. “I’d like to stay together.”

He nods, mouth curving into a grin. “Alright then. Together.”

End Note: Thank you so so much for reading!!! I've had a lot of fun with this one, and I'm so happy y'all have as well! I hope to see some of you soon for the next one, and if not, thank you. no matter what!!

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

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

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@lordofthunderthr @nightxcreature @underground-secrets @amberlthomas @kamisobsessed

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dyaz-stories · 1 year ago

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you took the words right out of my mouth || Kim Yeong-Hu x Reader

word count: 1k

warnings & tags: mostly sweet and fluffy, implied sex but nothing explicit, just harmless flirtation

A/N: For @neohumanmonster's Born in Blood prompt! I don't know if I'll post the other prompts right away because I don't want to burn myself out, so I hope you'll enjoy that one in the meantime!

“You do realize that there are two doctors in here, right?” you ask as you enter the room, not bothering to greet the man sitting on the examination table.

Sergeant Kim Young Hu’s eyes follow you as you walk to the sink to wash your hands. Around his bicep, a makeshift bandage seeped with red. By the looks of it, it isn’t the worst state you’ve seen him in.

“I’m not letting that lunatic touch me,” he answers, his voice calm, as it usually is, and you roll your eyes.

You’d be lying if you said you were a fan of Dr. Lim. You already had your issues with the man when you both worked for the government, before this all started. Once the Outbreak had begun, it had taken you forty-eight hours as his assistant before you had requested to start working out in the field. You’re well-aware of his shortcomings.

Unfortunately, and it stings to admit it, he’s one of the most competent doctors you’ve ever met. He’d be more than able to take care of the Sergeant.

“You do realize I have other things to do, right?”

“And I am deeply sorry to have taken you away from your fifth grade biology lessons.”

…Okay, he has a point. Finally done with your thorough handwashing — it’s not nearly as sanitizing as you’d like it to be, but it’s not like there’s a lot more you can do —, you come to stand in front of him.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask as you start undoing the bandage. At least working with the military means that the men all know what they’re doing in terms of first-aid.

“Could be worse. I think I just need stitches.”

You’d trust him, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve heard him say that about injuries that could have been fatal, had you not been there. In this case, though, you’re relieved to see it does look mostly fine. Whatever attacked him slashed through him, deep enough to be concerning but without actually damaging the muscle or hitting an important artery.

“What happened here?”

“One of the guys tried to take something from a monster,” the Sergeant Kim replies flatly. “I intervened.”

“Oh, it’s good it didn’t turn out worse, then?”

“Not really,” he says with a shrug. “The monster wasn’t violent until disturbed. This could have easily been avoided.”

“Sounds like your boys need a stern talking-to.”

While talking, you go fetch what you need. At least you’ve got everything required for something like stitching someone up, which you can’t say about most other ailments.

“I’ll handle that,” the Sergeant answers from behind you, and you smile. He exudes this quiet strength that you cannot help but be impressed by. His men would follow him to the end of the world and back, if he asked, and you can see why.

“Alright, well, you know the drill,” you tell him, coming back in front of him. “Think you’ll be okay?”

It’s silly to ask, with how often you’ve had to patch him or his men up. You’re well aware of his resistance to pain. Nonetheless, your training requires you ask, even if it’s no surprise when he nods in answer.

“Just go for it.”

You make quick and easy work of the wound. You focus on being fast and efficient rather than on lessening the pain, which you know is for the best with him. It’s not long before you’re setting your tools back down, done with your work. There are a few seconds during which the Sergeant takes the time to relax his jaw, to breathe in a couple of times, and then he nods at you.

“All done?” he asks.

“You’ll need to come back here so I can check on it,” you say. “And try not to put any strain yourself with that arm for a couple days, alright?”

He nods, but you don’t put much faith in that. As a soldier, you’d think he’d be good at following orders and, to be fair, you’ve heard he did an outstanding job most of the time. Unfortunately, your recommendations seemed to fall into deaf ears more often than not.

“Is that all?”

“Sure,” you say, even if his nonchalance exhausts you. “Hope I don’t see you here again for a good while.”

This, at least, brings a smile to his lips, and you try your best to suppress your shiver. He gets up from the table, and stands up, just inches from you. He’s so close, his torso almost brushes against your chest.

“Is that so, Doc?”

Damn that man.

“You know, if you keep this up, I’ll end up thinking you’re landing yourself in here on purpose,” you say.

The smile turns more amused.

“I would never endanger myself on purpose,” he tells you with disarming honesty. “But I’d be lying if I said I minded this kind of flesh wounds all that much these days.”

And before you can tell him just what you think of that, of course, he leans in to capture your lips. It’s not the first time. It doesn’t look like it will be the last time. And you’re in one of the very few rooms in the stadium that can actually lock.

Fuck it, you decide, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter why the two of you play that game together, the people you shared a past with and that are long gone, the fact that this relationship was built on blood. What matters is that in his arms, for however long you get to have him, you forget that the world is doomed.

If him coming back for more over and over again is any indication, so does he.

hope you liked this, it's a little sillier than what i've written for the fandom so far, so that was fun to play with. i don't know if i'll write for other soldiers because most of them... didn't leave me much of an impression as far as their personality goes, but i tried something for sergeant kim ^-^ please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you're enjoying my writing, interactions are what keep me motivated to write for a fandom!

more writing for sweet home

#sweet home #sweet home netflix #sweet home 2 #sweet home season 2 #sweet home x reader #sweet home imagine #sweet home fanfic #kim yeong hu #kim yeong hu x reader #my writing

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xxsycamore · 15 days ago

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╰┈➤ It’s Halloween night at the Crown caste, and you’re looking for some fun.

- William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Jude, Ellis, Roger, Victor, Ring, Nica, Darius x f!reader

[ ◄ PART 1 ] - [ ◄ PART 2 ] - ◉ PART 3

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Monsterfucking; Human/Monster; Mythical Beings & Creatures; Manipulation; Mildly Dubious Consent; Curse play; Non-Human Genitalia; Anonymous Sex; Masquerades; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Vaginal Fingering; Sirens; Water Sex; Bathtub Sex; Brainwashing; Smoking; Rough Sex; Desk Sex; Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation • wordcount: 3,261 • masterlist

a/n: I got this idea for a story that is similar to Nine Nights, but without any plot or continuity between the different parts whatsoever. Unless, of course, you want to imagine that all of these take place one after another (poor Reader)... Monsterfucking is a new territory for me, so please bear with me. Once again, I tried leaving you with enough hints about who is who and I hope you can have fun guessing them lol

Dubcon warning: The reader seeks out physical intimacy on her own from the very beginning, however, some suitors use their curses' abilities on her without her being aware of it.

NEW: I made a playlist for this fic! It consists of 12 songs, one for each scenario. Enjoy <3

VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024/ KINKTOBER DAY 31: Non-human characters/traits

❝ MONSTER VILLAINS' NIGHT. ❞ (PART 3)

IX. A sly Kitsune

"How do you move your tail like that? It's very realistic... It's wagging so cutely too…"

The fox-like man seated at the other side of the table keeps gazing lazily at you, his chin resting on his palm, as he makes a show of wagging his heavy, fluffy tail for you.

"How are you so sure that it's not real?"

Yeah, right. You'd find his teasing cute if it weren't the tenth or so time he's been answering your question with a question tonight. Each one more deceitful than the previous until you're completely confused about which parts are true and which aren't. The conversation flows easily despite that, as you find yourself stimulated by his web of lies, if anything.

With a smirk blooming on your lips, you decide to answer his riddle without words. Standing up from your seat, you walk slowly until you're behind him, and with one swift motion, you pull on his tail.

The teal-eyed stranger hisses as if he can feel actual pain from the faux appendage. He's such a good liar, a play-along comes naturally to him, it seems. You're a little bit impressed.

It begins to seem strangely exaggerated for a mere act when he looks behind his shoulder and his face is beet red when you meet his gaze. Gone is the playful glint in his eyes, and for a second, you're genuinely worried that you went too far. So you wait for him to say something, anything.

"You've got some nerve, attacking the kitsune's most sensitive spot."

You burst into laughter, barely caring about getting eyes on you from the surrounding crowd. What's more, you're absolutely triumphing on getting this sort of reaction from him - he's almost a sorry sight at the end of his wits, throwing another poor lie at you like that.

"Oh? So what's gonna happen if I keep touching it?"

You wrap your fingers more around the fluffy appendage now, the fur so thick that you can't meet your thumb with the rest of your fingers. You give it a nice stroke, bottom to top, feeling its hard center curve and resist in your hold, as if there truly is a bony spine inside. You're not sure how he's pulling it off when you can see both his hands laid out on the table now, elbows settled on the hard surface with his head drooped in between in a display of utter powerlessness.

By the time you let go and place a hand on his shoulder in concern, the expression on his face has gone through another metamorphosis. There's something animalistic to his gaze now, and it matches the speed with which he drags you out of the room and into some secluded part of the castle.

You're suddenly shoved against a cold wall, the stranger's body firmly pressed against your back as he presses his hips against yours, making you feel the arousal tenting his pants at the front.

"So kind of you to check on me after playing with me so lewdly. Did you feel sorry for me back there? It seems like you've been deceived by the kitsune."

You let out a whimper as your lust for him grows. Screw him for messing with your head like that. But mindgames aside, you know you can get a good time out of this, and you don't practically mind the ongoing roleplay, quite the contrary.

It feels like an eternity has passed before he finally aligns his cock with your dripping hole. You moan as your walls squeeze around him tightly, but he gives you no chance to get used to the delicious stretch before he pulls out of you.

"Say it. Say that you want me to fuck you."

What a tease.

"I want you …to…fuck me…" Throwing your shame out the window, it doesn't take you long before you press your hips back into his, hoping that his swollen cock will find its way inside by chance.

You feel the brush of his fluffy tail around the small of your back, the sensation unfamiliar and not unlike being teased with a feather, and it does a great job at distracting you so he can bottom out inside you in a sharp thrust.

"Ahhh!♡"

"Now then. Let's say that I have a trick up my sleeve to keep you impaled on my cock looong after you get what you want from me. Am I lying, or am I telling the truth?"

Another wag of his tail. Your mind is getting clouded by the growing pleasure, and you realize that this is your only chance to answer before you reach your orgasm.

"Nhhg- I'm rather-sceptical! Haven't you thought that you might not be my type?!"

Bold words for someone who has a cock buried to the hilt inside them currently, you know, but you can't help it. The stranger lets out a chuckle, rutting his hips against you once, and twice, and by the third time, your orgasm hits you.

"Wrong."

Something expands at the base of his cock, and a shudder runs through you. Is that... a knot? An overwhelming sense of fullness rules over your nethers, heightening the pleasure, and only then do you realize you might have truly been deceived by a kitsune.

And leaving its grip might be a little harder than you thought.

X. A bewitching Siren

As soon as you step foot out of the hall, your ears detect a melodic singing voice that is nothing like the music played at the party. Is that coming from a singer invited to perform here? Maybe that's the sound of him doing his warmup. With no set direction in mind, your feet take you closer to the source of that music, without thinking.

Through long and elaborately decorated corridors, your step speeds up, as you're eager to meet the talented individual. If he's someone famous, perhaps you'll able to get his autograph, or at least exchange a couple of words and treasure the chance meeting as a memory…

Following the voice to what looks like a regular restroom, you assume that he came here for privacy. Your excuse would be that you wanted to freshen up, yes, that sounds good. Actually, wasn't that your goal in the first place? Your head is full of excuses to follow the voice, and you understand nothing of it, but your hand is already at the doorknob.

The man you find inside, to your utter surprise, is relaxing in a bathtub. He's in costume too, much like everyone else at the party, but his puts many others to shame.

"What a beautiful tail! It reflects the light so beautifully…Oh, I'm sorry for barging in! I was looking for a restroom, and…"

"Why, thank you! Finally some company, I was starting to get lonely here."

Flip-flap. The beautiful siren's tail you just complimented is even more gorgeous when moving, the holographic properties of its scales making a beautiful rainbow pattern under the bathroom light. You're not sure why he chose something so unpractical if he's prone to getting lonely, but you give him credit for the beautiful sight he makes.

"Do you want to keep me company? I can sing for you."

"Yes, please!"

You're unsure of where that eagarness of yours comes from - wanting to spend more time with his beautiful face, or his intoxicating singing voice. But you don't let the offer slide, you'd be a fool if you did.

"Why don’t you come closer?"

Once again, your feet take you near him before your mind can command them to. Taking a seat at the edge of the bathtub, you offer the stranger a somewhat awkward smile, and he gives you one in return. His eyes are like candy, looking at you so sweetly with their magenta color as if daring you to get even closer. But you don’t get a say in that. Because he takes matters into his own hands, pulling you in by the arm until you lose your balance and fall in the tub right on top of him.

Your yelp is masked by the noisy splash of water, but you can't move an inch. The beautiful tail you admired just a while ago now turns into an immobilization tool, wrapping around your legs and pressing them tightly together. Similarly, he wraps his naked arms around your torso, fully capturing you in his grasp. He also appears to be… laughing.

"What are you squirming so much for? I thought we were going to have fun?"

"I'm just- surprised- Ahh!!"

Flipping the two of you around, you find your head dangerously close to being pushed underwater.

"Isn't it exciting to be held like that? Don't worry so much, I'm not gonna drown you! I need a pretty woman like you by my side if I want my singing performance to truly capture the romantic sound I'm trying to give it! And if we were to make love during it, that's making it even more powerful, don't you think?"

His sense of humor is strange, but you can't deny the way adrenaline heightens your need, as much as you hate the part of your brain that does that to you. He begins touching you all over with his gentle hands while humming a tune, and between desperate moans, you have another chance to admire his costume, the scales on his arms a beautiful finishing touch.

When he finally enters you, your world is spinning, and the sound of water continuously spilling over the edge of the tub sounds so distant. The man's moans are like a melody, the way he drags them out, you feel brainwashed by them almost. You'll do anything to prevent him from putting an end to that song, until you can't move a limb anymore. You just have to be careful not to completely drown in him.

XI. A cunning Devil

Wandering off on your own turns out to be rewarding as you truly manage to find another balcony that's not as crowded as the hall's main one. The crisp midnight is heavenly when you take a lungful, instantly putting you at ease. It makes you that much startled when you suddenly register someone's presence beside you. Cigarette smoke rudely enters through your nose just as you've been getting to enjoy your air filtered out from heavy perfumes. The man doesn't pay you much attention upon setting his elbows on the railing, and you can't decide if you're relieved or offended by it. The latter somewhat prevails, and you decide to break the ice after all.

"Too noisy inside, huh? It's good that we found a place to escape, haha…"

You're just a tad awkward with him, and he isn't helping much with the uninterested half-gaze he casts in your direction as he lets out a huff of smoke.

"Did ya come here hoping that I'd fool around with you?"

W-What on Earth…! Just what left him with the impression that you're-

"Take yer decision quickly. I'm almost done here."

What is he acting so full of himself for? It pisses you off, and that's no good, because you know yourself too well when being provoked.

"Fine. Let's 'fool around'. I bet you're not even that good."

The stranger takes another drag of his cigarette.

"And what do I get in return?"

The audacity!

"Excuse me? You get my body, maybe? We're BOTH in this, aren't we?"

For the first time, he turns to fully face you. You see a pair of short, pointy red horns on top of his head, and his tired eyes have a strange glint in them, making him look dangerous somehow.

"Can you repeat that for me?"

"What? I'm giving you my body."

His violet eyes flash red for a second, you swear you see them. It must be the light playing tricks on you. Not that it matters now. Not when the whole demeanor of the stranger changes in the next second, with you being whisked away in his arms and pinned against the nearby wall.

"I'm gonna treat ya to some good time, after all."

"Finally." You roll your eyes, getting used to the new arrangement as the man captures your wrists and pins them above your head. You try to initiate a kiss despite your partial immobilization, but you easily miss his lips when he lowers his head to nibble at your neck instead. The bickering must have rilled you up, because you're moaning already, despite yourself. The last thing you want is to give him the time of day and become a whimpering, moaning mess under his touch. You'll hold back as much as you can, just because. But he's making it way harder than anticipated.

Between your legs, his hand finds your dripping core easily but he's gone the second it starts feeling good. You curse him in your head, but your temper is quickly softened by the way he hoists up one of your legs on his arms and enters you. His cock feels divine, you hate to admit, as he loses no time starting to thrust away in your welcoming heat. Maybe a quick, rough fuck is exactly what you wanted. You open your eyes just so you can look at him through a layer of lustful haze. Is he enjoying this as much as you are?

The smirk on his face catches you off guard, and coupled with a rougher thrust, it becomes the reason why you reach an explosive climax so soon. He follows not long after, pulling out at the last moment and painting your abdomen with his cum.

On wobbly legs, you readjust your clothes to retrieve some decency before you return to the real world. But a hand captures your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Tsk, where do ya think yer going? Did ya forget already? Your body is mine now."

A thin red tail with a pointed tip wraps around your leg, further preventing you from making your escape. You hear your own heart pound in your chest, and you realize that you might have just made a deal with the Devil.

XII. A beguiling Death

"Awww, I hate this part so much! Seeing the hall get emptier and emptier as the small hours roll in…" You giggle a little at Victor's woes. The social butterfly he is, it only makes sense that he feels that way, on top of him being the party's host. You've chosen his company for a large chunk of the evening, yet you still feel as if you barely spent time with him. He's been excusing himself times and times again, talking with guests, managing the event, making sure that everyone's having fun. All of which, of course, includes you, and you're thankful for that, making sure to remind him what a good time you're having every chance you get. "But Victor, isn't it nice? You'll get to relax at long last! You must be tired." Victor looks at you, a mysterious little smile on his face. For someone who smiles so often, you pride yourself in recognizing the different meanings behind the curling of his lips, but that one in particular worries you. "Are you sure you're not having malicious intent when you're saying that? Something like wanting me all for yourself when the guests leave? Ahahaha!" The laughter doesn't make it any less obscene, what he's suggesting. You feign shock as you gaze away from him. "I never said that!" "Naughty girl, what did you think? I meant it with utmost innocence! We could help ourselves to some sinfully sweet leftovers once anyone leaves, for starters!" Oh! Okay, he caught you there. You both laugh, holding each other's gaze. His idea doesn't sound all too bad. You tell him you'll be waiting in his office, with a wink. He nods and stands to his feet, preparing to see the last of the guests out.

*** "Victor, you're still wearing your costume!" You don't have to wait long for him. Your arms are open and welcoming as soon as he enters the office, and he gives you a warm hug without saying anything. His long, black robes give him an interesting aura. His choice of costume frankly surprised you. For someone as eccentric as him, you were ready to bet he'd pick something flashy and colorful, but no. Tonight, he's Death. Your best guess is that he played along with the Grim Reaper nickname, living up to it at least in appearance. His hug gets… handsy. You're being pushed back until your rear bumps into the edge of his desk, and you've no choice but to sit on it. His tongue enters your mouth as his hands never stop wandering on your body, squeezing there and there and feeling you up. "Little Robin." "Hmm?" You barely have the brains left to answer him, just from a few kisses. You want him, now. You hope whatever he wants to talk about right now is directly related to him putting his cock inside you. "What would you do if Death wants to claim you right this instant?" Yes. Gods, yes. "I will simply accept my fate." "Hoooh? Aren't you a good girl!" Victor's long fingers worm their way under layers of clothing until you feel their coldness on your most burning parts. He's inside your panties now, and the way he loses no time slipping two of his digits inside you is making you practically melt. "Ahhh~" He shows no mercy, fingering you at a steady pace from the get-go. You don't hold back either, ready to give him everything you've got. Letting go, you're inevitably pushed over the edge and drenching his fingers with your cum. "And that, my dear," he whispers in your ear, making a shiver run down your spine, "Is called The Little Death." Your heart starts beating faster as you turn your head to capture Victor's gaze. There it is, this strange light in his amethyst eyes again. As if he's just beginning to have his fun with you after revealing another trick up his sleeve. Barely having time to recover, you start moaning in earnest again, as he scissors his fingers through you. Pleasure builds up, and just as you begin to get used to it, Victor changes the angle and begins hitting your sweet spot at the upper wall of your heat with the roughened pads of his fingers. "Ahh- Victor-Too much-" "Let yourself go, Little Robin. Tonight, I want to take everything you have to offer." Helplessly, you grab onto his dark robes for purchase as an unfamiliar sensation builds inside you. You let go as he tells you to, and you're granted with the obscene sound of water hitting the tiled floor of his office. "Nghh- Victor-" "Marvelous. Let's see how many more you can endure, shall we?" As more liquid escapes you, drenching him completely, you feel shameful, yet it's just so good it turns your brain to mush. You're not sure how many more little deaths Victor can pry out of your body, but you'll gladly leave yourself in his arms until the sun comes out.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @raeraeks @ethereal-blossom @valkyyriia @candied-boys @ludivineikewolf Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

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bethanydelleman · 11 months ago

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I saw a post you reblogged at some point about Fanny being stuck in a time loop and it got me thinking: if the main men (both protagonists and antagonists) of the different Austen novels time travelled back to the day they first met their love interest/the start of the novel - whichever is latest so wentworth, knightley, and Edmund Bertram would travel to the day the main events of their novels start - who do you think would end up changing the least of the events and the most (intentionally or not)?

Because I feel like Knightley would change the least and Henry Tilney and the three S&S gents would come next. But like Wentworth would immediately throw the entire novel off track and like Darcy and Henry Crawford would come in close second trying to change their truly awful first impressions

(Also I just want to add that I really love your Austen takes and discussions 😊)

Thank you!

This is a fascinating idea. Here are my thoughts:

Wentworth just marches into Uppercross Cottage and proposes again. Doesn't even wait to be properly introduced to the family. He's getting Anne back NOW. (She says yes, of course)

I can imagine Darcy having a tiny little crisis as he decides if he really wants to be married to Elizabeth, maybe he could just not accompany Bingley to Netherfield and his life could go the way he planned... nah, he can't resist. Off to Netherfield he goes and he lets Bingley introduce him to Elizabeth at the assembly ball. Things progress unimpeded and by Christmas there is a double wedding and Wickham's character is known throughout Hertfordshire. He skips town and Lydia is packed off to Pemberley to benefit from some better society. (Side note: Mrs. Bennet would push Mr. Collins on Mary if she had any inclination that Darcy liked Elizabeth).

If Bingley knew everything, he'd never leave Jane. He'd return from London and marry her, no matter what Darcy or his sisters said. (I wrote that once actually)

Does Wickham count as a main? Because I don't want him having the ability to predict the future. Yikes on bikes!

Henry Crawford is very interesting, because does he actually understand where he went wrong? I'm not sure he does. Can he resist a flirtation with two very pretty sisters? That would be a fun fan fiction to write. Because if he went for Fanny right off the bat and she knew nothing else about him... he'd probably succeed with her, secret Edmund love or not. And she certainly wouldn't have a leg to stand on in refusing his proposal.

Does Edmund come back in the same timeline as Henry? That would be so agnsty! If not, he'd probably be doing whatever he could to keep Maria and Henry apart, but he's shockingly ineffective in canon, so would he even be able to change anything?

Henry Tilney would probably just try to prevent Catherine being sent home alone. He could easily come back early.

Mr. Knightley's best move would be to tell Robert Martin to propose in person. I doubt Harriet could have resisted. Then he could just sit back and watch everything else play out.

Honestly, I don't know if Frank Churchill would change a thing, other than making sure his final letter was posted to Jane. He enjoyed the subterfuge.

Poor Edward Ferrars has to travel back while engaged to Lucy? I feel like he wouldn't even want to relive the novel, there is nothing he can do anyway.

Colonel Brandon would probably change a lot. He could immediately save Eliza and challenge Willoughby. He might even spare Marianne from a lot of pain.

Reginald de Courcy (Lady Susan) would likely act as well and save Frederica earlier than in the novel.

#question response #this was very fun!#thank you #austen heroes #jane austen #pride and prejudice #mansfield park #northanger abbey #sense and sensibility #emma #persuasion #lady susan

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pearl-tarotist · 2 years ago

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ೄྀ࿐ First impressions; what will your future spouse think of you?

"People themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever".

ਊ→ Chose a pic of the first line to know your spouse's first impression of you. (PILE 1-2-3)

Pile 1

Ace of cups, 2 of wands, 5 of swords, page of cups + king of wands

Your future spouse will see you as someone extremely lovely. Someone that is nurturing, good and emotionally available. They will see you as an emotional person because they will realize that those emotions are easily portrayed in your face and are easy to define. At your first encounter you will be an open book for them and they will easily realize the state/mentality that you have.

They will see you as someone with a lot of ambitions and dreams as it is probable that you will encounter him/her/them in the middle of forming/working in one of those dreams, probably something new that has to do with a trip/expansion of your comfort zone. They will realize how much strength and passion you put into them and they will think you are a fighter for those dreams, you will look like someone that won't give up or bow to anyone. They see resistance and a little bit of stubbornness from you.

It's probable that your personality or actions at the moment inspire and make her/him/them happy. You could remind them a bit of their own feelings, the pure and innocent ones. You will be a blast of fresh air for them.

In general, the impression that they will have of you is someone young that's not scared to go behind their dreams. Someone beautiful and cute, innocent even, that's starting to stablish the bases of something bigger. Probably, this person will be older than you and that's why they see you as this at the beginning. They will also realize that you probably have a lot of friends, that you are quite popular or that you have a lot of power in your social circle.

She Walks in Beauty (by lord byron)

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,//So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,//The smiles that win, the tints that glow,//But tell of days in goodness spent,//A mind at peace with all below,//A heart whose love is innocent!

M.list/Paid readings

PILE 2

The Hermit, Ace of cups, Ace of wands, 3 of swords + 2 of cups

Your future spouse may think you are more of an introvert, he/she/they will feel that you are not letting yourself to be seen fully and freely.

Your fs will feel that even if you are being nice and polite, to get to know you they will have to pass certain tests that they do not even know in what consists. They will realize that you do not let people easily into your life and that probably you see yourself above some type of people (it's not a bad thing in this case because you will just be aware of which type of people you want to hold a relationship with and of which type of people you don't).

So, you will look more guarded for him and to a point, hurt. AS you will present yourself in a more introvert way; more guarded to form new friendships and relationships, he will think that it comes from bad experiences, a sad story. As if you had your heart broken or in pain.

And I think your future spouse will see you trying so hard to meet new people and be friendly and nice that when seeing the sadness in your eyes, your fs will want to be friends or to start a relationship with you just to stop you from trying anymore.

Like, "Darling, it's okay. Let me be your friend and you will have to stop doing what you hate so much, that it is being sociable...".

It could sound pitiful but your future spouse will not think like that, it's interest more than pity because they will see you in a nice and positive light what makes them interested in getting to know you more and better. Kind of like a damsel in distress. Their interest for you comes good intentions, mutual respect and in a small part because of sexual desire.

Lana del Rey - Sad Girl.

M.list/Paid readings

PILE 3

The emperor, 6 of swords, king of swords, the wheel of fortune, the high priest

Your future spouse will see you as someone that has everything under control, someone that has high self-esteem and that's the boss. They will think that you're someone really strict but also with a lot of skills, knowledge and someone that easily gets rid off of what's not useful for them anymore. You will be in total control of a new change and transformation that you will be going through. It's possible that you don't even realize that you're going through this transformation but your future spouse will notice.

What I see is that this transformation or the origin of this transformation has made you be more professional logical and way mental.

Your future spouse will see you as someone professional, logical and mental and this impression comes out of admiration. They think you are someone really clever and wise, able to produce a lot of benefitial changes in their environment

They think you're good and if they could ask for your advice they think you would give them the best idea ever.

In your first meeting it looks like you will truly impress them with your skills, knowledge, professionalism and your easiness to let what does not benefit you behind. They will see a capable woman, not just a little girl.

M.list/Paid readings

#Spotify #pac #pac tarot #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot reading #love tarot #love tarot reading #future spouse reading #future spouse #first impressions tarot

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chiyuuchu · 5 months ago

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A twisted heart <3 (30th July 2024)

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Prompt! The mutuel pining between an aloof boy and a slightly psychotic girl.

The first week at U.A. was a whirlwind of introductions, training exercises, and getting to know new classmates. As Class 1-A settled into their new routine, one student in particular quickly captured everyone’s attention: Y/N. Her unsettling presence and uneasy vibe was not unknown to everyone.

Y/N, on the other hand, had a quirk that often made people wary of her: Crimson Bind. This quirk allowed her to create blood-red chains that could bind her target’s emotions and willpower, inducing feelings of love and devotion towards her. The chains could also cause pain if the target tried to resist. It was a power that could easily be abused, but Y/N had always been careful, using it only when absolutely necessary.

Due to the sort of quirk she had, Y/N had a strange, psycho-yandere personality. She was fiercely protective of those she cared about.

The morning sun filtered through the windows of Class 1-A as Y/N stood at the front of the room, preparing to introduce herself. Her smile was bright and welcoming, but the red chains that coiled around her fingers as she demonstrated her quirk left a few students feeling uneasy.

“Hi, everyone! I’m Y/N. My quirk is Crimson Bind,” she said cheerfully. “It lets me create these red chains to control emotions and even give commands.” And there plastered her signature creepy smile.

It wasn’t until after the first day of showcasing quirks in class, a few students exchanged glances. Kirishima leaned towards Bakugou, whispering loudly enough for others to hear, “Dude, did you see those chains? That’s some intense power.”

Bakugou scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, whatever. As long as she doesn’t use it on me.”

Mina, ever the enthusiast, clapped her hands together. “Wow, that’s so cool! So, you can literally control how people feel?”

Y/N nodded, still smiling. “Yep! But don’t worry, I only use it for training and practice. I promise I won’t go around binding anyone's emotions without permission.”

During lunch, Y/N oddly sat at an empty table, her cheerful demeanor in contrast with the slightly anxious looks from her classmates.

She was eating and sitting alone.. with a creepy smile on her face.

Across the lunch room, a few of her fellow classmates sat afar.

“So, did anyone else think that was kinda… creepy?” Jirou asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Uraraka shrugged, looking thoughtful. “I mean, it’s definitely powerful, but she seems like a nice person. Maybe she’s just trying to get used to being around us.”

Deku, who had been unusually quiet, looked up from his meal. “I think she’s really nice. I mean, she was so friendly and open about her quirk.”

Mina, still excited, said, “Yeah, and did you see how she was trying to explain everything? She’s got a really great attitude.”

Kirishima grinned. “True! I’m sure she’ll fit in just fine. And who knows, her quirk might actually come in handy during our training.”

As the day went on, Y/N’s quirk became a hot topic of discussion among her new classmates. They gathered around, trying to make sense of the unusual abilities and the energetic personality of their peer.

“So, did you see her using those chains to move the book? It was like she was playing a game with it,” Midoriya said, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yeah, I saw that!” Uraraka replied. “She’s really good at making it seem playful. I guess that’s her way of making everyone feel more comfortable.”

“I think it’s impressive how she can control such a powerful quirk with such ease. And her attitude makes her seem less intimidating.” Iida claimed.

Kaminari leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “Well, she seems pretty cool to me. I think she’ll add a lot of fun to our class. And hey, at least she doesn’t seem like she’ll use her quirk on us just for fun.”

Mina grinned. “Yeah, as long as she’s friendly and doesn’t start binding us all up, I think we’ll get along just fine.”

As Y/N wandered around the school grounds, she felt the weight of her new classmates’ eyes on her, but she maintained her playful attitude. She continued to interact with her peers, trying to bridge the gap between her unusual personality and her genuine desire to connect with them.

When Y/N finally stopped to chat with Todoroki, she noticed the calm way he looked at her, which was different from the more nervous reactions she had received earlier. Todoroki’s presence was soothing, and she found herself gravitating towards him despite his quiet demeanor.

It was during a group training exercise that Y/N’s feelings for Todoroki began to surface. They were paired together, and Y/N couldn’t help but be drawn to his composed and determined nature. She admired how he handled each challenge with such grace and precision.

Throughout the exercise, Y/N found herself trying to get closer to Todoroki, offering him encouragement and making efforts to interact with him. Her playful remarks and genuine compliments seemed to have a subtle effect on him, and though Todoroki remained largely unruffled, he appeared to appreciate her attention.

As the months passed, Y/N’s attempts to engage with Todoroki became more frequent. Her affection was expressed through her actions, like finding reasons to work alongside him or cheer him on. Her classmates began to notice the growing dynamic between them, and though Todoroki remained unaware of the full extent of her feelings, the subtle signs of affection were becoming increasingly evident.

Class 1-A was bustling with its usual energy. Todoroki Shoto sat quietly at his desk, his eyes occasionally flickering towards Y/N, who was engaged in an animated conversation with Mina and Ochaco. Todoroki had always been intrigued by Y/N. There was something captivating about her, something that drew him in despite his attempts to remain distant.

Their interactions grew more frequent and peculiar. Y/N's obsessive behavior was hard to miss, but Todoroki seemed to remain oblivious to the more unsettling aspects of it. Instead, he appeared to appreciate the attention, finding her quirks oddly endearing.

In the cafeteria, Y/N would often bring Todoroki his favorite snacks, always managing to know exactly what he craved.

"I swear, she has some sixth sense when it comes to Shoto's preferences," Kirishima remarked one day, watching Y/N place a perfectly crafted bento box in front of Todoroki.

Mina giggled. "It's kind of cute, though, isn't it? Like some weird, twisted romance."

"Yeah, if you ignore the whole psycho personality thing," Kaminari added with a shiver. "But Todoroki doesn't seem to mind."

"Maybe he likes it," Kirishima suggested. "Everyone has their preferences."

“Yeah! We don’t judge other people’s ideal types!” Mina cheered.

The following afternoon during training, Y/N's protectiveness became glaringly obvious. A sparring match between Todoroki and Bakugou was getting intense. Bakugou’s aggressive style was starting to wear Todoroki down, and Y/N, watching from the sidelines, grew visibly anxious.

"Oi, Icy-Hot! You better step up, or I'm gonna blow you to pieces!" Bakugou yelled.

Just as Bakugou launched a massive explosion towards Todoroki, Y/N’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “Stop.”

The red chains of Crimson Bind shot from her hand, wrapping around Bakugou and halting his movement instantly. He stood frozen, a mix of shock and fury in his eyes.

“Damn, crazy women! You could’ve just let us finish,” Bakugou growled, but he couldn't move.

Y/N's eyes softened as she looked at Todoroki. "You okay, Shoto?" she asked, her voice reverting to its usual softness.

Todoroki nodded. "I'm fine. Thank you, Y/N." He said calmly and out of breath as it was obvious he was about to give out.

As she released Bakugou, allowing him to move again, the rest of the class exchanged looks, clearly seeing the depth of her feelings for Todoroki.

Despite Y/N's intense behavior, Todoroki seemed to be growing fond of her in his own way. He started noticing small things, like how she always knew what he needed or how she was always there to support him during training. He found himself looking forward to their interactions, even if he didn’t fully understand her feelings.

One day in the common room, the class was gathered around, talking about their day. Y/N was sitting next to Todoroki, her usual place, when Mina brought up the subject.

“So, Y/N, you always seem to know what Todoroki likes. How do you do it?” Mina asked with a playful grin.

Y/N just smiled widely, with her usual unsettling expression. “I have my ways.” Everyone had already grew used to their eerie peer.

Kirishima laughed. “You guys are like an old married couple. It’s kinda sweet.”

Todoroki felt his cheeks heat up at the comment. “We’re not—” he started, but was cut off by Y/N’s hand on his arm.

“It’s okay, Shoto. They’re just teasing,” she said softly, her touch sending a strange thrill through him.

The peculiar dynamic between Y/N and Todoroki became a favorite topic of discussion among the class. They found it both fascinating and entertaining, especially when Y/N's more obsessive tendencies came to light.

During a strategy meeting for an upcoming mission, Midoriya couldn’t help but bring it up. “Has anyone else noticed how... protective Y/N is of Todoroki?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mina chimed in. “It’s like she’s his personal bodyguard. But it’s kinda adorable in a weird way.”

“Yeah, but she’s also kinda scary,” Kaminari added. “I mean, did you see how she stopped Bakugou that one day? She didn’t even hesitate.”

“But Todoroki doesn’t seem to mind,” Uraraka pointed out. “Maybe he likes having someone who cares that much about him.”

“Maybe he’s just oblivious,” Jirou said with a shrug. “He’s not exactly the most emotionally aware person.”

Todoroki, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, felt a strange mix of emotions. He appreciated Y/N's attention and care, but he also felt a bit overwhelmed by her intensity. Yet, he couldn’t deny the warmth he felt whenever she was near.

The real test of Y/N's feelings came during a high-stakes mission. The class was sent to apprehend a group of villains causing havoc in a nearby city. As they split into teams, Todoroki found himself paired with Y/N.

“Stay close,” Y/N instructed, her eyes scanning the area for any threats.

Todoroki nodded, feeling a sense of security with her by his side. As the battle ensued, Y/N’s chains came into play, binding enemies and protecting her classmates. But it was her unwavering focus on Todoroki’s safety that stood out the most.

At one point, a villain managed to land a blow on Todoroki, sending him crashing into a wall. Y/N’s eyes blazed with fury as she unleashed her quirk, her chains wrapping around the villain and immobilizing them.

“Don’t you dare hurt him,” she hissed, her voice filled with venom.

After the battle, as they regrouped, the class couldn’t help but comment on Y/N's actions.

“You were amazing out there, Y/N,” Kirishima said. “You really had Shoto’s back.”

“Yeah, you were like a force of nature,” Midoriya added.

Y/N just smiled, her eyes softening as she looked at Todoroki. “I’d do anything to protect him.”

Todoroki felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He realized that, despite her intense and sometimes unsettling behavior, he appreciated her dedication and care

Todoroki Shoto found himself more introspective than usual. The warmth that Y/N's presence brought him was undeniable. Her intensity, while strange, was strangely comforting. He couldn't quite place it, but every interaction with her seemed to leave an imprint on his heart.

One quiet evening in the dorms, Todoroki sat by the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon. He couldn’t help but think about Y/N’s actions over the past few days—the way she always seemed to know what he needed before he even realized it himself. He recalled her protective stance during their mission, how fiercely she had defended him against the villains.

He smiled slightly, running a hand through his hair. Despite her quirks and the unsettling nature of her quirk, he found himself drawn to her. There was something endearing about her dedication and the way she seemed to see only the best in him. It was a stark contrast to the emotional distance he had kept for so long.

As he reflected, he realized that her obsessive nature, while intense, was something he had started to appreciate. It made him feel valued in a way he wasn’t used to, and he couldn't deny the sense of comfort it provided him.

Kirishima approached Todoroki in the common area, a curious expression on his face. “Hey, Todoroki,” he began casually, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Todoroki looked up from his book, meeting Kirishima’s inquisitive gaze.

Kirishima leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “So, what do you think about Y/N’s... unique personality? I mean, she’s pretty intense about you. How does that make you feel?”

Todoroki paused, considering the question. It was a topic he had been mulling over for a while now. “It’s... different,” he admitted slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone show such a level of dedication and care before. It’s strange, but it’s also something I’ve come to appreciate.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming. “Strange how, exactly?”

Todoroki shrugged, his gaze softening as he thought about Y/N. “It’s a mix of intensity and protectiveness. She’s always looking out for me, even when I don’t need it. It’s not something I’m used to, but... it feels kind of nice.”

Kirishima chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re starting to enjoy her attention. Even if it’s a bit intense, it’s clear she really cares about you.”

Todoroki nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I guess you could say that. It’s not what I expected, but it’s... comforting.”

As Kirishima left, Todoroki returned to his thoughts, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite the unconventional nature of Y/N's affection, he couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of warmth and acceptance from her. The bond they shared, though peculiar, was becoming an important part of his life.

Later that day, after a particularly grueling training session, Todoroki found himself alone in the locker room, lost in thought. He was thinking about Y/N again, about her bright smile and the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Y/N right outside the locker room until she was standing right in front of him.

“Hey, Shoto,” she said, her voice soft but carrying a hint of that unsettling intensity she was known for.

Todoroki looked up, surprised. “Y/N, hi. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” she replied, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat. “I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted lately. Is everything okay?”

Yep.. totally not weird and creepy..

Todoroki hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, her usual confidence wavered. “You... you’ve been thinking about me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki replied, taking a step closer to her. “I know it sounds strange, but there’s something about you that I can’t ignore. I feel drawn to you, and I don’t know why.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she listened to his words. She had always hoped that Todoroki might feel the same way about her, but she had never dared to believe it could be true. “Shoto, I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “My quirk... it can make people feel things they wouldn’t normally feel. I’ve been so afraid of using it on you by accident.”

Todoroki reached out and gently took her hand in his. “Y/N, you don’t have to worry about that. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s real. It’s not because of your quirk.”

Todoroki smiled softly, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “Y/N, you don’t have to worry about that. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s real. It’s not because of your quirk.”

#shoto fluff #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x y/n #shoto x reader #todoroki fluff #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha #mha shoto #mha #todoroki mha #shoto headcanons #shoto todoroki #shoto x you

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy, love what you do. You're amazing.

I was looking for sterek fics where Derek has a dirty mouth, even porn couldn't compare to the things that come out of his mouth when he is with stiles. ♥️♥️♥️

Cover your ears ya'll.

A quickie in the janitors closet by pizzz_10

(1/1 842)

Stiles wanted to go lunch after class, but Derek has other ideas

Something to Remember Me By by 1lostone

(1/1 I 5,038)

At a graduation party, Derek makes some assumptions.

Stiles sets him straight.... so to speak.

Gordian Knot (Of Sex) by tourdefierce

(1/1 I 5,859)

Losing his virginity was hard enough when Lydia Martin was his sole focus. Now there are werewolves involved and this is way crazier. For one, there are a lot more dicks involved. (To be fair, in some of his fantasies, Lydia Martin had an impressive rubber cock.) Either way, Stiles doesn't know why he thought getting rid of his pesky virginity was going to be easier with Derek involved—the guy is practically allergic to doing anything the easy way and that includes Stiles. Being done. Because he's easy. What.

Things We Know, Unsaid by uraneia

(1/1 I 6,036)

Stiles accidentally finds a trunk full of Derek's professional dom gear from when he lived in New York. They don't talk about it. Then Stiles turns eighteen, and they do.

If he thought Derek would be angry or embarrassed at Stiles finding a trunk full of quality BDSM gear in his closet, he’d have been wrong. “I used to do it professionally, in New York,” Derek says easily, and Stiles—Stiles doesn’t know how to process that. Because he’s seventeen and has eyes and an unfortunately vivid imagination, and if he lets it go there he’s not going to get any use out of any body part except his dick for several hours.

Feel You Breathing by sugareey

(3/3 I 8,400)

Derek: So, you need a distraction.

Stiles: Maybe Stiles: It’d be better if you were here to help me with that. Stiles: ;D

[Or: Sexy things start late one night when Derek gets a text from Stiles and escalate from there. A few secrets are revealed along the way.]

Melt Me Slowly Down by maichan808 (maichan)

(1/1 I 20,307)

The last thing Stiles expects when he walks into Lydia’s exclusive S&M club is to rescue a sub who’s obviously been mistreated for a long time. His name is Derek, and when he awkwardly reaches out, asking Stiles to be his Dom, the urge to shield Derek from more pain is too strong for Stiles to resist. But Derek is still recovering from his past and learning how to set boundaries, so they have to take things slow.

Incredibly Gifted Fakers by Fortem

(21/? I 76,596)

Stiles desperately needs a new scene partner and Derek desperately needs a job. They may just be able to help each other out, if they remember that this is all supposed to be acting.

Yoda Said It Best by OKDeanna

(21/21 I 99,128)

Derek Hale knows he as a problem. Contrary to what some might believe, he isn’t stupid. He knows the Jeep has meaning to him, real meaning. The kind of meaning that he doesn’t want to think about, let alone stop and have to analyze. Except… his son keeps pushing him about it, prodding at him, and then before Derek knows it, Stiles is back in Beacon Hills, driving the one thing in the world Derek wishes he never had to set eyes on again. If Derek isn’t careful, he could open himself up to a fall, and that would affect more than just his son but also his own traitorous heart. Because with Stiles back, Derek finally has hope again, and its making him want the things he knows better than to ever crave: a home, a future, a life—love.

Domestication by Arver7, Moit

(37/37 I 280,892)

Derek and Stiles are heat partners, but neither realises how invested the other one is. When Stiles winds up pregnant, their relationship gets more serious, even if neither of them knows how to handle it.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #dirty talk #anon #rating:_e

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 1 year ago

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Skeleton's kid is playing with a small ball. They wants their dad to play with them so they throw him the ball. The ball goes straight in the eye socket.

Undertale Sans - Ouch. He's dead. He lays on the floor like a dying sea star and stays there. The kid panics, thinking they just killed their dad, and runs to Uncle Papyrus, crying in terror. Papyrus sighs, grabs Sans by the legs, and shakes it like a coconut until the ball comes out before dropping him back on the floor and going back to his cooking.

Undertale Papyrus - He lets go a loud painful "NYEEEEH" before frantically shaking his head to get it out. The kid is laughing hysterically, thinking their dad is just feeling silly when he's actually in pain. Once the ball finally gets out, he falls on his knees, out of breath. He needs a second. The kid picks the ball back and throws it in his eye socket again. RIP Papyrus.

Underswap Sans - He's so annoyed right now, and humiliated. He tried to get it back but his arm is too short. So he walked to Undyne's place so she can take it out, having to suffer through Alphys mockery all the time it lasted. He then went home and faceplants in his bed and didn't move from there before the next day.

Underswap Papyrus - Just the thought of having to put his hand inside is skull is too traumatizing for poor Honey who decides to pass out to protect himself lol. Blue takes advantage of this to grab the ball and squeeze it out. Honey wakes up as Blue is lecturing his kid about making their dad pass out for no reason.

Underfell Sans - It's not glorious but he starts to loudly curse, screaming dozens of insults as he's trying to fetch the ball back. He's quite relieved when he finally manages too. That's it until his kid, very amused, starts to repeat everything he just said to the exact word. S/O is so going to kill him.

Underfell Papyrus - Urgh. Without blinking, he picks the ball out of his socket. Actually, it's not a ball, it's a knife. Uh. How did it get there? Oh, that's why his eye was itchy! Anyway. He throws the knife away and puts his hand back into his socket to take out the ball. The kid stares in awe. How many things can they possibly put inside his socket? They're definitely trying to see as soon as he's sleeping on the couch.

Horrortale Sans - He stays frozen on the couch. If he doesn't move, it doesn't hurt. As he just stays perfectly still, the kid starts to get worried and goes ask Uncle Willow for help. The only problem is that it hurts, and Oak definitely doesn't want his brother's hand inside his head. As soon as Willow enters the room, he starts to growl as a warning. Willow pins him on the floor and as Oak is trashing on the floor trying to bite him, he takes out the ball. Oak immediately stops moving after that. Oh. It feels better. Willow calls him a drama queen on the way out.

Horrortale Papyrus - The kid stays speechless as Willow lectures them while fishing the ball inside his own eye socket. It's clearly painful as poor Willow won't stop growling or whining through his lecture, but he's determined to get the ball out, which happens eventually. The kid is quite impressed.

Swapfell Sans - He casually uses his gun to lift the ball inside his eye sockets and picks it up more easily. S/O enters right at that moment and starts to panic thinking Nox is trying to shoot himself. Well, they are even madder learning why he's doing that. Did he think about the example he's giving to the kid? Well. No, clearly, he didn't.

Swapfell Papyrus - He has no resistance to pain whatsoever and starts to high-pitched screams while rolling on the floor to get it out. The kid is laughing so hard and asking him to do it again. The funniest part is that the ball comes out eventually, but Rus doesn't see it and keeps screaming in agony for twenty minutes before realizing it came out. Oh. He's fine now.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's so mad he didn't manage to dodge this. He's the general of the royal guard, what if it was a bullet? He picks out the ball mumbling to himself then suddenly throws it at full force into the kid's head, who starts crying. Uh. So he didn't lose his reflexes. Good to know. Ah shit, the kid, he forgot he was a dad for a minute. He comes to comfort them lol.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Poor Coffee is in a fetal position on the floor, crying in pain. It hurts too much to take it off so he decides it was best to just stay there, hugging his kid like some puppy to comfort himself until Wine comes home and saves him. Wine finds him asleep on the floor. The ball rolled out of his head by itself eventually.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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alfascorpiionux · 2 months ago

Text

Thank you for your patience☺️ Here we go:

Sun in Sagittarius, Moon in Cancer Personality:

You can hardly find a friendlier, more empathetic and dynamic person. You combine the fiery qualities of Sagittarius: boldness, deep need for knowledge, adventure, of breaking the barriers you or other people have previously set for yourself. You love to roam around and explore both mentally and physically (you might have a love for travelling, visiting new places), but at the same time you always need to have your nest, that safe place you return to every night or when things get tough. You have a deep and complex inner life and an incisive eye when it comes to judging people’s character. You immediately know whom you should or shouldn’t trust, who is being dishonest even if sometimes you don’t want to admit it yourself due to Sagittarius’ tendency to look at the bright side of life and be friendly to those around you, even when they don’t deserve it. You make a wonderful, supportive, empathetic friend who is at times a touch too blunt. You express yourself in a direct, emotional manner and are all about being transparent and authentic. You hate deceit, hipocrisy, dishonesty of any form. Due to your emotional nature, you could get incredibly upset if someone lied or deceived you. This could manifest as an angry outburst followed by retreating to your shell and promising to never talk to that person again. You could also bottle up anger and irritation which in time leads to resentment. However, more times than not, it doesn’t lead to that. You generally try not to dwell on the past to much. If you can’t forgive someone, you’ll at least try thinking of them as little as possible. You enjoy pondering about different possibilities of what life and the future could be like. Though you are usually adaptable and love expending your horizons, your Moon in Cancer may at times make you resistant to change as it can make you feel insecure or emotionally vulnerable.

You are a sociable personality with a broad and philosophical outlook on life. You combine the Archer’s need for novelty, knowledge and freedom with Cancer’s warmth, emotional depth, compassion and intuition.

When it comes to relationships, it takes quite some time to let somebody close to you heart as you fear betrayal and being hurt. You are serious when it comes to romantic relationships and you Moon in Cancer makes you incredibly committed to making the relationship work, sometimes to your detriment. In the right relationship, your compassion, dynamism, creativity flourishes. You love taking care of your loved ones, listening to their problems, both the practical and emotional kind. You can give great advice as you are likely a very emotionally intelligent individual. Though you are idealistic, you also have a strong practical side which means you won’t end up lost with your head in the clouds. You know practical steps should be taken if you want to achieve your lofty ideals.

Some people seem to think Cancer Moons are weak, emotional and can be easily taken advantage of but that’s hardly the case. Their past experiences with people have thought them the importance of resilience, of being though and sticking up for themselves when needed. You are aware of the ugly, detestable sides of human nature which in consequence makes you wary especially when forming new connections. You could be tough nut to crack in the beginning. People might get the wrong impression about you at times. Depending on how much pain you’ve experienced in the past the shell you’ve build around yourself could be quite thick. Also, you tend to give more than you get in relationships, which means you’ll be really appreciative when someone finally reciprocates.

This combination could make you quite conscientious in your studies, if at times restless. You give the impression of a very knowledgeable person who knows what he/she is doing. You love gathering knowledge and perhaps you also have an interest in history or learning about your ancestry. With time you could become a very wise and knowledgeable person.

You are more principled than materialistic, more optimistic than pessimistic, more focused on the present and future than the past.

At times you could become quite restless or insecure perhaps even indecisive about what you are doing or where you life is going. Self-reflection, journaling or talking to a loved one could help in this regard. Or perhaps moving your body and practicing a sport like jogging, swimming or going to the gym could help clear up your mind and see the situation more clearly. There could be a struggle between your Sun’s need for independence and novelty and You Moon’s need for emotional security and stability. So be careful in this regard. Find a solution that works best for you. With your Moon in Cancer having a family could be essential to your wellbeing. So don’t let your Sagittarius Sun tell you you don’t actually need it, that it’ll restrict your freedom or that you are not really that interested in X person. It’s just the fear speaking inside of you. You need loved ones you can come home to. Don’t deny your needs. They are part of you.

Or perhaps the opposite is true and you are in a relationship and starting to feel smothered. Well, in that case how about taking a short trip maybe or enrolling in a workshop you are interested in or perhaps going on a bike ride? There are plenty of ways in which your need for novelty, action and freedom can be satisfied. Make choices that will best serve you in the long run as well.

To sum it all up, as and individual with Sun in Sagittarius and Moon in Cancer you are a mix of many desirable qualities: warmth, compassion, kindness, optimism, open-mindedness, boldness and a deep need to overcome your barriers and expand your knowledge. It is advisable you listen to your intuition when relating to other people and find a satisfactory mean to satisfy your sometimes diverging needs: for freedom and independence and for emotional safety and stability.

#astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astrology #astrology placements #moon #moon placements #moon in cancer #moon in astrology #sun in sagittarius #sagittarius #sagittarius sun #cancer moon #sun moon #sun in astrology #astro placements

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howlingday · 8 months ago

Note

Could you imagine if Jaune has a thing for women that can easily top him, but was too shy to hold hands with him because it’s so sudden?

Jaune has a... unique interest in certain women. Some, like Nora, have called it a kink, while others, also Nora, have called it a fetish. Actually, Nora was pretty much the only one who had any sort of comment on it. Ren simply nodded along while Pyrrha... Well, Pyrrha was the one who started it for him.

On her passing, though, Jaune had trouble finding anyone to give him the same "pitter-patter" feeling she did. Sure, there were other women in his life who could have easily fit the role. Professor Goodwitch came to mind at times, but it was kinda weird for a student to have a crush on his teacher with such a huge age gap. Yang could've also filled in, but she was also the one who teased him the most about his interests, and not in the way he liked. Nora was a candidate for two seconds before he remembered that he couldn't betray his brother, Ren, like that. And he gave up on Weiss when he and Pyrrha started going out, and he didn't really have any interest to bother her again.

Then she came along...

"You doin' alright, guy?"

Jaune stood frozen in place, opening his mouth only to have gibberish come out. Standing less than three feet from him was this beautiful goddess towering over him. Bulging muscles and gorgeous brown locks filled his view, the only light to guide him being her mocha-tinted eyes.

"Aub..."

"Huh?" She tilted her head. "You okay?"

"Um Ja..."

"Hang on, I'm gonna check your temperature." The woman of women raised her hands towards Jaune's head, but suddenly found herself trapped in his grip as he grabbed her hands and fell to his knees. "What the hell are you-?!"

"PLEASE, GO OUT WITH ME!" Jaune roared, staring at her feet. Everyone stared at him, but he continued. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I have no right to ask anything from a goddess like you, but would you please give me a chance?!"

There was a long, painful silence as Jaune waited on the amazon's answer. Without resistance, she pulled her hands out of his grip and took a step back. Jaune didn't look away from where she stood. He'd shot his shot, and he failed miserably. Still, it was better to have loved and lost than-

"Six tonight."

"Huh?"

"Pick me up at six tonight." She said, giving a soft smile back down to him. "Don't keep me waiting, but don't expect anything later, either."

Jaune bowed his head so fast that the floor cracked beneath him. "THANK YOU SO MUCH!"

"And tone it down, will ya?" She chuckled. Admittedly, she liked being treated like this, though she didn't care for the attention she was being given. "You don't have to spend all your energy on just asking me out."

"S-Sorry." He said with a blush. He watched her as she walked away, giving him a smile and wave as she left. Jaune stood from his feet, chin a little higher as he left to get ready for his date. After all, such a beautiful woman of power deserved a beautifully powerful first impression.

#rwby #jaune arc #elm ederne #hammer knight

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joelsgirl · 2 years ago

Text

NIGHTLY RITUALS | DIN DJARIN X READER

Request Via DMs by @bearsbeetsbeskar: A fic where Din or maybe Joel is let's say cleaning their weapons, disassembling their guns and reader distracts them with some sloppy head, maybe they told reader they were not easily distracted when it came to these tasks and reader takes it as a challenge, until they can't take it anymore and then fuck her senseless Content Warnings: Darker Din, Age Gap, Size Difference, Elements of a Dom/Sub Relationship, Beskar Collar (in replace of an engagement ring in this au), Fucking You Until You Pass Out, Pain!Kink, Throat/Face Fucking, Squirting, Claimed Reader, Keeping the Armor On, Rough Sex, Slapping/Punishment, No Use of Y/N A/N: Set somewhere between Season 1 and 2, in the Razor Crest. + Want to see more? I’d love to see some requests, here!

He said he couldn't be distracted, that his focus and concentration was unshakeable. He did it not just for proprietary's sake, or because any bounty hunter worth his weight in beskar did. No. To him, cleaning his weapons was like a nightly prayer, a ritual that kept him sane, kept him focused. As if cleaning his weapons cleansed his soul, rid his hands of the blood that stained them. Stripped the demons he carried, the ghosts who haunted his soul. He hadn't chosen this life, it was forced upon him, as was yours... Still, you loved to watch. Settled on your knees before him, looking up at him in awe. It doesn't matter that you can't see his face, you don't need to.

Watching his skilled hands, the same hands that hold your waist as he fucks his frustration out on you, that have killed people in the name of protecting you; or making money, that have lovingly tucked your hair behind your ear or stroked the collar he had placed on your neck rub the barrel of the gun with a microfiber cloth, polishing it until it shone almost as brightly as the armor adorning his impressive bulk. Biting your lower lip, you knew he was utterly fixated on his ministrations - also knew that if anyone could distract him, it's you.

Delicate fingers tug the zipper of his black fatigues down, the beskar on his large thighs cool beneath your wrists. Biting your lower lip, you feel your body reacting at the mere thought of touching his cock, your nipples hardening, sweet little cunt soaked already. You're naked, save for the collar, it's how he liked it - how you liked it, too. He doesn't flinch. Knows exactly what you're like, ignoring you as he places that gun down and picks up the next one, the subtle shift of metal on metal a pleasant backdrop to your own thoughts.

You can practically hear this thoughts, it's not going to work...

The low cadence of his velvety voice sounding in your mind. You'd have a wicked grin crossing your lips were they not wrapped around the head of his thick cock. A moan escaping you at how soft he feels against your tongue, pressing down further, sucking that achingly hard length as he continues with his work. You know it's getting to him, can feel his length twitch as you work him, small hands on the beskar plates over his thighs as you keep working him slowly, teasingly.

It doesn't take long, you knew it wouldn't. Despite his ability to remain deadly calm, focused in the heat of battle - here, in the safety of the crest, nestled in a forgotten corner of the galaxy, he couldn't resist you. Couldn't resist your sweet lips as they worked him like that, one of his favourite things... A gloved hand abandoned it's mission to rest on top of your head, guiding you slowly at first, rolling his hips up to meet you. "Fuck, baby..."

You can hear the need in his voice, your own just as intense. Glancing up, wide, innocent eyes looking up at him as his pace intensifies. That hand, resting so gently balls into a fist, knotting your hair around his glove, holding your head in place as he ruts up into you. "You know it's a bad idea to tease me like this. Makes me want to punish that little body of yours." He groans as he forces every inch into that little throat, tilting your head back, tightening you around him as he looks down at you. Loves that pretty face, the seductive look in your eye as he claims you. The collar just visible.

"This what you wanted?" You'd nod if you could, but he's so big, almost too big. You can only take him when he fucks you like this, holds you steady as he drills that pretty little mouth. "Wanted me to show you what you do to me? Show you what happens when you distract me from my work?" He groans at the feel of your throat milking your cock. It's almost as good as that sweet little cunt. "So naughty, baby girl." Yanking your head up by your hair, his gloved thumb brushing against your swollen bottom lip as you gasp for air. Eyes glazed over, delirious with need. Fingers pinching your nipples hard, before spinning you around and forcing you to bend over the table he'd just been working at. You can feel the weapons beneath, digging into you. The metal as cold as his armor.

A chill runs down your spine as you feel him rise to full height behind you, towering over your petite little body. He was big on a good day, with all that armor? Fuck. Nothing turns you on more. The hand in your hair releases your long, soft locks. Sliding down your back slowly, meticulously. Knowing you won’t move, that you’re an obedient girl, that you’ll stay right there, just like that for him… “You remember what I told you would happen if you distracted me?” His voice was deep, that darkness that welled in the depths of him just colouring the surface.

You nod, bracing yourself. Delicate hands finding the opposite edge of the small, metal desk he used. The cargo bay doubling as his work space. Carbonite blocks suspended behind you both. He smoothed the supple skin of your ass gently, lovingly, before raising his beskar lined glove and coming down hard. Your body trembles from the force, the soft bloom of the hit already colouring your skin.

A moment later, a small strap of leather is placed between your teeth, giving you something to bite down on before his hand comes down on you again. Crying out as the pain licks at your nerves, your body on fire as you hold still for him. Fuck, it feels so good. Your sweet little cunt slick with heat as he slaps you again, and again. He could do this for hours and never tire; has done before… and you’d beg him for it. Loving the feel of him against you, the way he grinds his cock against your ass. The sharp sting of the gloves, adding weight to the brutal hits. You love it when he slaps your ass so hard, he has to carry you to bed. Always so sweet and loving when he’s done with you, soothing you, holding you in the thick muscle of his arms. Peppering soft kisses to your forehead.

You shiver at the thought, your mind blitzing out from the delicious pain, so much so you don't even register the feel of his thick cock pressing against your cunt. "You should know better, brought this on yourself, sweet girl." Don't you know it... he says it as if this wasn't exactly what you wanted, what you needed, what you prayed for. As if you hadn't thought about him filling you with that perfect cock, destroying your little body, reminding you exactly who you belong to, who put that collar on your throat. Damn near purring with need as you wait with bated breath, until he sinks that cock into you and you're screaming with pleasure.

A different kind of pain taking over, the kind that comes from being so full it's like you're tearing in half. It doesn't matter how many times he fucks you, it's always a guttural invasion and it makes you want to take him even more. To prove how good you can be, how you deserve it... "Fuck, please..." Crying out with need, white knuckling the edge of that table, as if hanging on would protect you from the impending onslaught, despite how badly you needed it.

Nothing would save you from him; and you didn't want it to...

He showed no mercy, never did. Sliding out to the tip before slamming back in, his thrusts as brutal as his hand. Your screams echo off the metal walls of the cargo bay, no one can hear you but him, no one can save you... and wasn't that a blessing? A sign that your prayers had been answered. He fucked you so relentlessly, the desk shook though it was welded to the ground. The guns around you rattling across the surface. "Look at what happens when you distract me from my work, baby girl..." He slaps you again, before soothing the ache in your ass, the soft flesh burning from his assault. Your clit grinding against the cold metal, adding the most delicious friction to the mix.

"Hold on, baby."

His free hand finds your hair again, lifting your head up and yanking it back, making your back arch as your tits slap together, your hands never releasing the lip of the desk. Your moans blend with the sound of his armor hitting your thighs, your toes lifting from the floor, barely scraping it as he drills into you. The lack of movement in the desk making you feel every single inch as he bottoms out in your tight hole. Groans filling the room as you milk his hard length, so tight around him his eyes close beneath the helmet, lost to the pleasure as he turns you into his nightly ritual instead.

Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, slamming into you as hard as he is, until you're gushing over his cock and sobbing from the pleasure. He fucks you straight through it, his stamina knowing no bounds. The first of many orgasms; drilling you until you've lost count and your vision is fading. His fist in your hair the only thing keeping your body upright. You can feel the weight of the beskar around your throat, feel the love and need. The way he relies on you to take him, to keep himself going.

"Please, please don't stop..." Your moans almost soft now, eyes fluttering closed. You know he isn't even close to cumming yet, and that it wouldn't be the end even when he did. So disciplined, so in control, he could fuck you all night; has before. He fucks you until your mind gives out, fading into darkness, the prayer that his cock was still slamming into you when you wake up the last thought in your mind before you give in...

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