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cripplecharacters · 2 days ago

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Writing Profoundly Intellectually Disabled Characters

[Plain Text: Writing Profoundly Intellectually Disabled Characters]

While there is a glaring lack of intellectually disabled characters - except maybe big, physically strong, white men who can’t “tell right from wrong” or have a personality - in all sorts of media, specifically profoundly intellectually disabled characters are next to non-existent, with the existing ones being used more often as plot devices rather than portrayed as human beings.

This does make a degree (and not more) of sense considering that 85% of ID people have it mild, 10% moderate, 3.5% severe and only 1.5% has profound ID, the larger group inevitably gets more representation (which doesn’t make it good, but it does exist). However, it hopefully doesn’t need explaining that minorities deserve to be represented too (...and represented well), so this is what this post will be about.

Please don’t treat this as your only source on writing a character like this (even though I’m willing to bet it’s the only one like this, at least on tumblr), do your research and always check other sources.

Also, for clarity: intellectual disability isn't an umberalla term for "mental/brain disability". It's a specific, singular diagnosis that used to be known as "mental [r slur]". It's not the same as brain damage, autism, dementia, dyslexia, and anything else that's not specifically "intellectual disability". It's something that you are either born with or acquire early in life.

How do I Include Them in the Story?

[Plain Text: How do I include them in the story?]

A profoundly ID person will spend the majority of their time either at home or in some sort of care facility since they will require 24/7 help. The easiest role to put them in is probably a family member of another character. I've mentioned on this blog before that the "ID characters always end up as the annoying younger sibling" thing is overdone, but none of these necessarily have to be true for this suggestion to work (especially not the "annoying" part).

A non-ID character could have an intellectually disabled older sibling, twin, cousin, uncle/aunt, the sibling of a grandparent, etc. Seriously - a severely disabled person can be an adult, or even an elder. Just not as a parent, since a profoundly disabled person can't consent (a lot of ID people very much can, but this is the one disability where your level of functioning is baked into the exact diagnosis - profound ID comes with the inability to consent/understand the consequences enough to consent).

"They're a family member" is basically the easiest "excuse" to include a profoundly intellectually disabled in a story (and, as a bonus, you don't have to figure out how the other character would react to meeting them for the first time, since they probably knew each other for a long time already).

If your story isn't about the profoundly disabled character and instead just features them as a character, it would be much easier to not make the other character their primary caregiver. It's simply a ton of work and the character wouldn't have time for fighting dragons and whatnot - it'd be easier to have the abled character spend time with the disabled character at home (or care facility; you can very much visit someone in one) hanging out rather than actually doing the caregiving part.

Outside of a home and a care facility, there are also day care programs that some people might attend. This is the rarest solution out of the three mainly because of financial reasons, but also these resources aren’t as common for people who can’t walk, learn self-care, etc. Going to one takes time (the profoundly disabled person isn’t gonna walk there by themselves) and probably requires a specialized van (that you can bring a wheelchair in, which is incredibly expensive). Most day care programs are focused on people who are moderately or severely ID at most. One made for profoundly ID people would require 1:1 aides, which generally means the programs are much smaller for logistical reasons, but also even more expensive. For most people, too expensive without funding. Basically, this is an option, but you have to consider your character’s financial situation and/or what kind of financial support do disabled people get where they live.

Another way is having the disabled character in some sort of high position - in real life there were quite a few cases of profoundly and severely intellectually disabled royalty. Depending on the place and time there might have been pressure to not let the public see them, but this wasn't always the case. The biggest example of the latter was probably Emperor An of Jin (the first Jin, Eastern one) who was, as his title suggests, crowned at some point. He didn’t actually rule (his uncle did) but yes, you can have a severely disabled person as the head of a monarchy, it’s not without precedent.

In fiction you can do whatever you want anyway when it comes to ableism, you can have it be there, or you can have it not be there - and if it does exist then there are still different kinds of ableism you can portray that aren't the "literally killing-the-disabled-baby/hiding-them-in-some-dungeon level of eugenics" kind. Maybe a rich family who cares about their image would actually be unable to shut up about their kid to show how "saint-like" they are for caring for the disabled - it is unfortunately realistic, and can be a potential way to have the character exist in public, not ignore ableism, and also not go the aforementioned literally-just-murder route that writers usually do to show an ableist family.

Characterization

[Plain Text: Characterization]

Warning; the bar here is somewhere in the Earth's inner core. If your character has a single characteristic beyond aggressive/loud/unmanageable*, they're automatically at the top of most complex fictional representation of severely/profoundly ID characters. Congrats.

* - Some people are those things but, unsurprisingly, they're other things too. A lot of profoundly ID people can actually be completely quiet - you notice people who are loud because they're loud.

As with literally every character, you need to figure out what they like and not like. This can be quite literally anything, but try to think of the basic stuff. Do they have something they really enjoy eating (and conversely - something they refuse to eat)? Do they have some sort of comfort toy or object they don't want anyone touching (and maybe showing them playing with it with a different character could be a way to show how much they trust them)? In more modern settings, do they have a favorite show they always bug everyone to put on? Are they really clingy or do they hate physical contact (again, maybe they only enjoy it from a specific character)?

Another characterization could be comfort objects. A lot of profoundly ID people are autistic (which I'll touch on later) and will have an object that they bring everywhere the same way that non-ID autistic people might. There's nothing really specific here, just another layer of "this character is a Person". Maybe they have a blanket they really enjoy chewing because the texture feels good or some sort of plushie they like to throw around because it makes a sound they find funny. Lots of options. Maybe they have a personal “tell” to let others know they want their comfort object brought to them.

Keep in mind, you have to show this all in non-verbal manner. A profoundly ID person is probably not using any sort of AAC device (the most robust one I remember seeing right now was a low-tech one with "yes" and "no", but there are probably ones who operate on a larger amount of singular words). This is basically another opportunity for characterization - what do they do when they're happy - laugh, flap their arms, make sounds? - and when they're upset - scream, hit themselves, make different sounds? Obviously, you'd have to take other disabilities into account (e.g. many profoundly ID people won't move much, some might not be able to make much audible sound, etc.) but almost anything helps.

This brings us to…

Communication

[Plain Text: Communication]

An important thing (concept?) I'll throw here is "total communication", which can mean different things in different contexts, but here I'll use it to mean "using everything you can to communicate with someone who cannot do so in a ‘traditional’ way".

Communication can be categorized as having two sides; expressive and receptive. For most intellectually disabled people in general, receptive skills tend to be significantly higher than expressive ones, though there are specific disorders where it’s reversed or equal. As mentioned before, most profoundly ID people won’t speak orally, won’t use sign language, and won’t use AAC (though out of all three, AAC is the most likely one). Some might say single words, but that’s about it. It’s not a “physically mute but can write perfectly grammatically correct sentences” situation, it’s more of a “[single noun]” one, if anything. Receptive skills however are pretty decent (in comparison) and they would probably understand their name, the name/title of their carer(s), names of things they see every day, events they have some frame of reference to (e.g. if they grew up Christian, they would probably know what Christmas is), etc. Your other characters could (and should) talk to them like they can understand, even if they don’t catch everything or even most of it. I say a lot of “probably” there, but the people who can’t do so usually have other comorbidities, which I’ll mention later.

To go back to expressive communication, eye pointing can be used to figure out what the character wants. A change in breathing can be used to tell that a character got stressed. Throwing an object can be used as a hint that the character wants to play. Maybe them reaching towards person A means they want to eat, but reaching towards person B means they want them to sing a song for them. Maybe them making a particular face means they just had a seizure and need to be comforted. Whatever their "tells" like this might be, other characters who know them would probably be able to tell more-or-less what's going on - you don't have to go really in-depth, especially if it's a minor character, but figuring out the ways your character communicates with others will make it feel more like a person and not a Disabled Lamp (“if you can replace a disabled character with a lamp or a sick dog, they’re not a character”).

If you read some of these and go "that's a thing that a child would do" then you're not necessarily wrong. A profoundly ID adult might enjoy activities that primarily kids partake in. This is, I can't stress this enough, not the same as "mentally being a child". Otherwise, a whole bunch of adults on this very website would be "mental middle schoolers" based on the shows that they watch - but they're obviously not. A profoundly ID adult doesn't have the "mind of a baby" if their favorite game is throwing a toy, they have the mind of a profoundly intellectually disabled adult. Sometimes people assume that since ID people aren't mentally [incorrect age], they always "act their [actual] age" and essentially end up downplaying how much some people's ID affects them, when the point is that no matter what you do, you are your age. An ID character who is 26 years, incontinent, constantly puts their hand in their mouth, can't speak, whatever, is mentally 26 years old the same way that they would be if they had a wife and a mortgage.

For the last thing from this section I'll circle back to the assumption that all severely/profoundly ID people are loud, aggressive, etc. - as I said, some of them are (just like abled people). The thing is, this is not always an unreasonable response to being unable to communicate with the people who are caring for you. If you had a pressure sore but couldn't explain it to anyone you'd be pissed off and screaming too. That's an extreme example, but still applies. If someone is severely stressed out (for an abled person, this might be inheriting a ton of debt, for a profoundly ID person it can be a change in daily routine), they can lash out. It's an unpleasant but very much human reaction to have, even if what's behind the ID person's behavior is significantly different from what an average abled person might consider "a good reason".

So I guess my advice is, try to show some empathy to the character, even if they genuinely are loud and/or aggressive. Intellectually disabled people - including the profoundly disabled ones - aren't some alien species that is just mean and hates their caregivers for no reason, some just can't process their feelings the way an abled person might because of their disability. That's not to say that caregivers aren't allowed to feel frustrated - because they are - but that very severely disabled people aren't purposefully evil. As mentioned in the earlier parts, all behavior has a cause, just like for literally everyone. So if the character is being "unmanageable": maybe they aren't some cursed burden, maybe they're just stressed out of their mind and now someone they don't know that well is trying to do *something* to them, which they can't figure out because of their disability affecting their receptive language skills.

Resources and What to Keep in Mind

[Plain Text: Resources and What to Keep in Mind]

Some resources you might read about ID can be potentially misleading. Even if you specifically look for causes of the profound severity of intellectual disability, you will get results for mild ID. That's mainly because people with mild ID make up >85% of intellectually disabled people and those with profound ID make like 1%, so they're a minority in a minority.

Basically:

Down syndrome is a very unlikely cause. It's always listed as the main genetic cause of ID, but that's only true for mild and moderate severities. If you choose any of the common causes of ID make sure it actually has the symptoms you're looking for.

Most profoundly ID people will have either severe brain damage early in life (and this can come with cerebral palsy), cephalic disorders (e.g. microcephaly), genetic conditions that you've never heard of (e.g. Pallister-Killian or Emanuel syndromes, 3p deletion), genetic conditions that you've never heard of for a very understandable reason (e.g. X-linked intellectual disability-limb spasticity-retinal dystrophy-arginine vasopressin deficiency… there are hundreds named in this way), or just have it without a known cause. The last one happens much more often than people tend to assume.

For a reason I'll probably discover at some point, most disorders and syndromes that come with ID are said to have "autistic-like features" rather than being "comorbid with autism". In practice, it's the same thing. Your character is probably autistic.

In the same way, a lot of practical resources will assume that ID = moderate ID (since most mildly affected need no or minimal support, and severely/profoundly disabled ones are a small minority) so pay attention if you're looking at the right things. If it's talking about having a job, travelling alone, etc., then you got clickbaited.

Another subsection here will be comorbidities because there are a lot of them. I’ll mention the biggest ones.

Brain damage is the most common one (except autism) and can vary a lot. There is barely anything I can say about this one, it’s an enormous spectrum that for some people causes disability and for others barely affects their symptoms. Cerebral palsy, especially quadriplegic, is seen a lot and might affect the character’s mobility a lot. Some people might be unable to breathe or swallow and need a breathing or feeding tube.

Deafness and blindness are comorbid with a surprising amount of causes of ID. The thing is, you could take advice for deaf/blind characters as-in for a character that has both (e.g.) glaucoma and mild ID and not change much, but this doesn’t really work for a character who’s profoundly disabled like this. The situation that can happen here is that it’s not actually known if the person is or isn’t deaf or blind because they can’t tell you. As mentioned earlier, some people will have absent receptive communication skills. How do you verify if they’re deaf or just not reactive to language? Some people won’t react to even extremely loud sounds, even if they can hear them perfectly well (besides, a lot of deaf people can still hear some). Same for verifying if they are blind - obviously, sometimes there’s something visual going on, but often there isn’t. Especially since the main causes of both blindness and deafness will be brain-based, not ear- or eye-based. Another character not being sure if the disabled character is blind or just very uninterested in visual stimuli is a possibility, especially with less advanced medicine. This is also why you might see those weird statistics of "between 5-90% of people with [condition] are deaf" kind.

Mobility is almost always severely affected. Some are fully mobile, but that’s simply not common. The average person will be unable to walk independently. It’s not always a muscle or nerve problem (though it absolutely can be), it’s mostly an issue of coordination. Because of this (and understanding physical space), operating a wheelchair (...successfully) might be impossible. This doesn’t mean you should just drop your character in a hospital wheelchair for them to get wheeled around because they will probably need a wheelchair that will actually support them - a headrest, ability to tilt, a harness, all that. This could be done with a powerchair (they can have controls on the back for a second person to operate), a manual wheelchair, or an adaptive stroller.

Now for resources;

One good resource I can recommend is SBSK (which I shared before), to my knowledge this is the only place that interviews severely and profoundly ID people (+their families) and the interviewer is great at actually interacting with many of them.

Most resources on the practical things only ever talk about caregivers (who are very important) but completely ignore the actual person being cared for which IMO kinda defeats the point.

Good luck writing!

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #intellectual disability representation #writing resources #writing ideas #writing disabled characters #writeblr #writing advice

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4chensungs · 3 days ago

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don’t kiss and tell

brothers best friend!jisung x fem. reader

after the incident of your brother finding out you hooked up with one of his friends, you promised to yourself to never look out for him anymore. but who says he’ll give up on you that easily?

wc. 2.8k

warnings. smut (mdni), jisung is down bad, body worship like crazy in here, tit sucking, fingering, ass slapping, unprotected sex

part 1 for context here <3

IT HAS BEEN one whole month since you last talked to jisung. one month since you saw him probably for the last time in a hot minute.

the last few weeks have been extremely unusual; you keep questioning yourself how was he doing, if he's even ever going to appear at your house again to hang out with you brother, like he always did. he's probably not.

and fuck jaemin, fuck him for screwing your bond with him. it's useless, pure jealousy and he's so stupid!, stupid for being this mad with one if his best friends of years, simply because he thinks you're still a child.

on the other hand, jisung is being not so subtle in the way he still wants you. he keeps liking the pics you post on your instagram stories, sometimes even replying to them. and it's the sad fact you're not giving him a single reply.

his mind wanders to the thought of you being already completely over him, wanting to distance yourself fully right now, thanks to your brother.

but your heart knows that's not what you want, and it keeps giving you a warning that the next time that you see him, these feelings will come back stronger than ever.

you miss him. so bad, thinking about him makes you sick.

you're laying in bed, scrolling quietly through your phone when the damn notification appears. why does he keep trying? you sigh out loud.

the__and.y liked your stories.

you ran your hands through your hair, turning off your phone to stare at the ceiling to collect your breath. you can't, your brother is still furious with both of you.

jisung ♡: why do u keep ignoring me in every existing social media

is he really going to do this? at this late at night?

jisung ♡: i miss you

you kept reading his messages and not replying. you didn't contact him for a month.

maybe, just maybe, things may have gotten lighter with jaemin. perhaps he's not really remembering this whole thing, yeah?

you: i'm sorry jisung

you: idk if this is right i really don't know

you: im confused

you turn off your phone again while waiting for his reply. let's give it a try.

jisung ♡: why wouldn't it be right

jisung ♡: jaemin can't control your life, you can do whatever you want

hm.

you: i felt bad that day and he's still so mad with you

you: idc if he's mad with me, he's my brother at the end of the day

you: i worry about you and how hes fucked up your friendship

jisung ♡: baby you know what's fucked up

jisung ♡: you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this because of him

jisung ♡: say to my face that you don't want it

you want this so fucking bad. to be in his arms again, and the thrill of being with him behind closed doors. god, that's all you want in every way.

you: ji

you: i want to see you

jisung ♡: that's right

jisung ♡: i've waited for this princess

jisung ♡: waited so long

you: i need you

you: i don't care anymore

you really don't give a fuck - your brother can hold his protectiveness instinct for himself, he actually can. you can't control what your heart aims for.

and it screams for park jisung.

"you can't ignore him forever, you know that?"

"who says I'm ignoring him? I texted him yesterday saying he should come this weekend." jaemin huffed, acting oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he invited jisung over was because of the boys' annual end of year party.

chenle deadpans at him with his stare, letting out a chuckle, "if you didn't invite him I would've done it myself." he paused, turning his head to look at the man, "that would be bullshit."

bullshit. jaemin swore he almost threw chenle out of the car in the harshest way possible - clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, "yeah, it was just fine when he fucked my sister behind my back."

"i'm pretty sure they did not fuck."

if you didn't then why were you both half naked. in his car. at your backyard?

"i'm telling you, I saw it. she was literally on top of him and she was fucking moaning his name, chenle. that's fucking wrong." your brother spat while still not looking at his friend - eyes focused on the road.

chenle keeps going, "cut this off, jaem. you can't see her as a baby anymore. let her live."

jisung is indeed coming to your house again - sooner than you thought. but it did take some days for you to find out, tho. you brother wasn't the one who told you.

in the same day, the last messages jisung sent you before you went to sleep.

jisung ♡: dress up prettily for me tomorrow

jisung ♡: will you?

you: what??

you: you're coming???

jisung ♡: jaemin told me to go and yeah i didn't expect it as well

jisung ♡: dreaming of you again

jisung ♡: kissing your sweet lips holding you so close to me

jisung ♡: it'll be all mine princess

you: go to sleep ji

you: silly

jisung ♡: i'll show you what's silly tomorrow

—

the sound of the boys laughing and loud pitching talking in the living room did quite mess with your head, anticipating the moment when he comes. it's crazy how you got so dolled up for him only, he's the reason why you're even going out of your room this night.

if it wasn't for jisung, you'd probably just greet the guys and come back to your own quiet place, drowning in your thoughts, alone. just like you always used to do before he appeared in your life.

a knock was heard on your door just right after you finished your makeup. unexpectedly, you meet a very tipsy jaemin.

"what the fuck is this outfit?" he spats, crossing his arms in front of his chest - his body unbalanced. for a split second, you closed your eyes and thanked all the existing Gods under your breath. he's drunk.

you smiled, "felt pretty today. you smell like beer, don't talk to me."

"hey, hey, hey." he grabbed your arm before you could close the door and kick him out, "come say hello to my friends. don't be rude."

you fixed your hair and outfit and went to the living room, being find with chenle, jeno and donghyuck's figures sat around the big table, nestled with all the different kinds of drinks and alcohol.

your breath hitched when jisung was nowhere to be found.

after greeting the guys, you decided to wait in your room - not sure on how, or when will jisung get there and you'll finally get to release all of your wants. show him how much you miss him and vice versa.

not much time had passed before another knock was heard on your door. you were sprawled on bed, dim lighting decorating the ambient.

"come in."

you said that because you thought it was your brother. jisung carefully opened the door, eyes peeking first to check on you.

that scene truly felt like a movie. you slowly got up, a smile starting to pop up in your lips as you walked to him.

your voice trembling, "hi, ji."

you opened the door fully for him to enter your space, he wasted no time to step in and pull you into a hug.

a mess was happening in your head, so ridiculously dizzy from him - the masculine smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, his hands holding your body flush to him while yours gripped his black t shirt, so simple and casual but yet made him look so attractive.

or maybe that’s just because you miss him a lot.

jisung leaned away from your embrace, gently taking your hair out of your face while holding eye contact - hands flew to your hips.

"you look gorgeous. more than ever."

your arms secured their hold around his neck, feeling your cheeks burning red from his words, "just for you." you announced.

he nodded, "all for me."

you both smiled like two idiots in love as he leaned down to kiss you, mouths melting so sweet at first - tongues brushing here and there, hums being heard throughout the kiss, "so pretty in this dress." he mumbles in between.

his back hits the door as he closes it, left hand leaving your hips for a mere second just to lock it. making absolute sure that no one will be able to interrupt.

jisung grabs a hold of your thighs to help you walk further into your room, so familiar to him.

all the times you've sneaked out, when jisung slept by and left jaemin's room in the middle of the night when he was in a deep sleep. all behind his back with so much carefulness.

when he lays you down he's quick to trail his wet kisses down to your neck, firm hands caressing your whole body, going up and down in motions.

you arch into him, playing with his black hair strands as his face rests on your chest, meanwhile his lips keeps smooching your hot skin.

you sigh in contentment, knees pressing together - trying to give him a sign that you're needy, so painfully needy for him.

"jisung i want- mhhm" your words get cut off by your own whine when his hand grabs the top of your dress to pull it down, hanging it just below your bra.

"don't want to take your dress off.. youre looking too beautiful like this." his deep voice quietly said.

you smile at his sweet comment, holding back all your whines combined with the feeling of his fingers messing with the lace of your white bra, throwing your head back with no shame when he pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, still not taking it off your body.

"so pretty, princess. i could admire you all day."

cool air is fast to hit but it's soon replaced by jisung's hot mouth, circling your breast with his tongue, hand massaging the other while his mouth does wonders on your soft flesh.

when he reaches for your nipple you whine even louder, his saliva pooling and soaking your whole breast when he sucks it into his warm hot mouth, humming nonstop.

"you're crazy ji-jisung."

"should i stop?" he teases, leaning his mouth away from your nipple and replacing it with his finger, rubbing it.

"no for fucks sake.. but I'm trying so hard to keep quiet." your voice trembled slightly.

jisung looks at you then laughs, “they’re so wasted right now, no one’s conscious in that room, love.”

you pout at him, he softly traces your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you again, “I promise you, it’s okay. but I need you to tell me it’s okay with you.”

his soft and caring voice did turn you on even more, it shouldn’t, but it made you wetter. eyes holding so much love and appreciation looking at yours - “I want this. I want you, ji.”

jisung smiles one more time, giving you a nod and resumed his work, mumbling a deep “fuck” under his breath when he tested the waters, hand went under your dress to feel your core.

he pulled the ends of your dress up to your stomach, your thighs ridiculously pressed together. you should be ashamed of how wet you were, but you’re not, not even a single bit.

he gives your thighs a caress, “let me spread them, hm?”

your breath hitches when he brings your knees to your chest, spreading you all open and full for him. jisung mentally coos at the scene in front of him.

just like your bra, white lace panties with a wet dark patch decorated in the middle, like a gift for him. it drove him crazy.

“did you miss me that much, princess?” you can only moan as response when he touches the wet patch with his finger before pulling the lace to the side, holding it in place with one finger, while his middle finger travels up and down your cunt.

wet, so fucking wet, “fuck. love, i might cum just by looking at this.” he cursed and cursed again, eyes wide open and looking straight at your puffy displayed cunt, so wet just for him. he knew that and so did you.

“oh fuck baby i can’t-“ jisung’s fingers spread you open to admire you better - in love, genuinely in love with how your pretty pussy shines for him, glistening and begging to suck him in.

he leans down fast enough to give your clit a quick kiss, “can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.” still caressing your core.

you moan his name desperately at his nasty but sweet comment, tons of whines and “jisung” ‘s leaving your mouth.

“ji please. want your fingers.” you manage to say.

“of course, gotta prep my beautiful girl.” he smiles, an expert finger circling your clit before diving down into your entrance. covered with slick, your cunt invites him just as soon.

experienced fingers pumping in and out continuously, you whine with your eyes closed at the sound of wetness.

jisung’s in complete awe, stoping his staring at your hole to kiss your face, first at the corner of your mouth, then at your lips, shutting your whines off.

“you’re perfect.” he leans away to say.

nothing’s more perfect in this world than the sensation of his long and thick fingers inside you, scissoring you and reaching the deepest and most sensitive spots ever. you’ll say that to him later.

you try to smile but you soon harshly bite your lip when he curled his two fingers inside, you yelped, “jisung! oh my god-“

he kisses you again, and again, until he’s satisfied and thinks you’re ready to take him. jisung’s fingers leave you empty, and you let out a cry - his eyes make their way to between your legs to see how you’re pulsating.

“never seen my princess this wet..” deep cocky voice says.

you reach out to take off your dress, “i’ve missed you.”

when your dress was discarded to the floor, he was quick to unbutton his jeans as they went to the same destination of your clothes.

you could see his erection through his boxers, and as much as you want to such him off right now, you’re needing him inside. now.

your panties were about to be discarded before jisung grabbed your hand and shook his head, “want them on, baby. s’ pretty. keep the bra too.”

knowing how he likes it with you, you turned around and pinned your front to the bed, arching your back and your ass in the air.

“fuck, just like that.” he pumps his cock at first, cooing you while you wait for him.

jisung’s hands flew to your back to arch it even more, then to hold your hips. he rubs the head of his dick on your entrance, how your pussy almost sucks him in just from the rubbing.

when he enters you, you let out a little too loud moan. hands clutching the sheets and tears filling your eyes.

he’s completely focused on how you keep clenching around him - the amusing view of your cunt sucking him all the way in, then out again.

your hips were pressed to his shaft, feeling him so fucking deep into your womb.

jisung coos again, “you don’t know how I’ve been dying for this.” he slaps your ass.

“jisung! jisung fuck, jisung.” you whine like a baby, lost in the pleasure. ass stinging from his big hand slap and cunt begging to be filled until you get sore.

“my love.” another slap, “fucking made just for me.”

his cock is so big and it leaves you like a babbling mess, so big that it almost hurts from how good it is, hits you in all places.

you both were getting closer, his thrusts started to get sloppier and messier, slower as he pulled away to release at your back.

your own release dripped down your pussy and thighs, while his hot cum painted your back down to your ass cheeks. what a scene.

“want them all to see this mess.. jaemin needs to see how you’re good to me.“ he admires the sight of your cunt clenching and unclenching around absolutely nothing but the air, “can’t believe you’re mine and no one can ever change that.”

you tiredly laid back on your back again, trying to fix your hair. jisung’s sweaty body joined you after tossing the dirty sheets aside, he breathes heavy, but still with that cute smile on his lips.

“do you think they heard something?.” you look up at him, voice low.

jisung thinks for a second, furrowing his brows, “i honestly don’t think so, baby. but you need to change these sheets..”

“of course i will, ji.” you laughed fondly. there’s still some questions hanging in the air, with what face will he come back to the boys?

“and if they ask you where were you this whole time and what were you doing…?”

“then i’ll just say that i was fucking the prettiest girl in the family and i don’t regret it.”

—

#hi there #park jisung #park jisung smut #park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #jisung nct #nct dream #park jisung imagines #nct dream x reader #park jisung x female reader #7dream #nct dream x female reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct smut #4chensungs #jisung park

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alagaisia · 21 hours ago

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I really think that as long as you’re bringing it to a good, reputable shelter with high turnover, you can think of it in a purely positive way. You’re giving that pet a chance to find a home and a family that are a better fit where they might be much happier. And, a surrendered pet at a shelter often comes with a lot more information about its likes and wants and behaviors and habits (compared to puppies/kittens or strays) and someone who is looking for a pet with exactly the traits that didn’t work for you will be so glad that you were able to tell the shelter all about the pet.

I’m coming to this from the other side- my family has only ever adopted dogs from the Animal Humane Society, and we’ve had incredible luck. Our first dog, my sweet Cosmo, love of my life, was not quite this situation- he had an elderly owner who either passed or had to move to a care facility when he was two years old- but regardless he was an adult dog with good training and an established personality, so we knew something of what we were getting ourselves into with a first dog. We grew up together and he was a wonderful companion for 14 years until he passed last summer. Squiggy, our little muppet mutt, was a failed designer dog whose original owner hadn’t realized that a purse dog puppy would still need training and attention, and while he was a little old to just be starting potty training by the time we got him, he figured it out. He has bells hung by the back door that he rings when he wants to go outside. He’s very dumb but so fluffy and he’ll snuggle right up under your chin if he’s not busy following my mom everywhere (or crying if he can’t find her).

Our most recent dog, Wilson, we got just a few weeks ago. He’s four years old, very smart, very curious, such a sweetheart. He was a surrendered dog from a family that had recently had to move into a smaller space due to a house fire, and the family didn’t have room to give him his own space (apparently he’d had his own whole room at their old house). He was reported to have issues with chewing on shoes and furniture. We think that maybe this isn’t the whole story, and that there were other lifestyle incompatibilities that led to him being put up for adoption.

For one, we have not had any issues with him chewing on anything at all that he’s not supposed to (although he has rapidly dissected a great many stuffed dog toys). It’s quite possible this was an anxious response. Or, an exaggeration, so that his previous owners didn’t feel as guilty giving him up. He also has very little training for a four-year-old as smart as he is; he learns very quickly, so he knows “sit” already, but it seemed like he knew “no” and not much else when he first got home. He also was not entirely house trained, and didn’t seem to super understand the concept of having a yard (but he’s picked up on both of those things already!). So we think that even in his owners’ previous house, him having his own room may have been more to keep him out of the way than anything else, and he maybe didn’t get as much attention as he needed until he was constantly underfoot.

Obviously I’m a little biased, since I enjoy having him around, but I think Wilson might have a much better life with us than he had with his previous owners (who got him as a puppy from a breeder!) even though there wasn’t necessarily a “good” reason for them to give him up. It seems like they maybe liked the idea of having a dog, and didn’t realize until their living situation changed that he didn’t actually fit that well into their lifestyle. And that’s fine, because it means my family got to bring home a wonderful new dog who we adore. My dad bought him a hoodie so that they can have matching outfits. He gets to play so much fetch. I’m knitting him a sweater to match the one I made for our other dog last year.

Pets that go to shelters are not doomed to a sad and lonely life in a cage. They go on to have wonderful loving families with lifestyles that can prioritize the needs of a pet and they live ✨happily ever after.✨ Just because it’s the end of their time with you doesn’t mean it’s the end of their life. It’s an opportunity for them to get a second chance at that forever home.

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame.

#personal

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bitchface24-7 · 3 days ago

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THE SEDUCTIVE PROFESSOR VIKTOR

synopsis: Professor Viktor, the most sought out and dreamt of professor at Piltover Academy. Luckily for you… you’re his favourite student.

warnings: age gap (viktor’s gotta be anywhere in his 30s-40s to be a professor, reader is in their 20s (early to late I don’t really care) ), power imbalance, dom!viktor, I tried my best to make this gender-neutral, this isn’t gonna be a full on story, just bullet points I come up with, no beta we die like most of the characters in Arcane

genre: m/f, m/m (however you label yourself, I hope you can read this and enjoy it!)

Professor Viktor hasn’t been a professor for very long at the academy. After he and his partner Jayce Talis revolutionized machinery and magic in the form of Hextech, well… the academy and the council wanted their genius shared with the younger generations.

“The Science Behind Magic: HXT101” became a hit. This course had the highest approval ratings, least amount of absences, and highest amount of A students in the history of the academy.

Viktor’s proud of his students work, everyone else sees it as it is. Everyone is doing amazing due to their hot professor.

His attitude, his humour, his accent, his beauty. Professor Viktor is sin incarnate and doesn’t seem to realize it. The dreamy sighs, the lustful gazes. It all goes over his head like water down a ducks back.

Having Jayce come in as a guest speaker doesn’t help in the slightest.

The two men are gorgeous. Jayce with his broad shoulders, messy hair, and wonderful beard. A few strands of grey focused on his temples.

Viktor with his long hair, sultry eyes, lithe frame that’s mostly delectable legs. He dresses wonderfully too. All tailored to fit his frame perfectly. His tiny waist seems almost impossibly small.

Viktor tries his best to be impartial to his students; neutral as a good teacher should be… but there’s something about you.

You’re bright, intelligent, well-spoken. Overall beautiful. He can’t stop looking at you during lectures, he can’t stop thinking about you in the privacy of his own home; in his office as well.

You always pay attention in class, you ask riveting and inspiring questions, you continue the conversation Viktor is desperately trying to create to invigorate the students the way he and Jayce were all those years ago.

Your pretty eyes, soft looking lips, shiny hair. The way the academy uniform compliments your figure in all the right ways. He’s a man obsessed.

He knows you’re at least physically attracted to him. The way you bite your lip when you look at him, when you shyly look down when he compliments your work with a sultry “good job”

How you jolt in your seat from daydreaming when he comes up behind you and whispers in your ear to pay attention.

He wants to see how you react to other stimuli. A practical theory if you will.

Will you be good and listen to Viktor’s every command? Or will you be bratty; needing to be put over Viktor’s lap and your ass reddened to be taught a lesson. Would you prefer his hand, a ruler, or maybe even his cane?

How pretty would you look on your knees, taking his cock down your throat? Would your eyes water? Would you choke? Or are you secretly a slut, who can take it no problem.

Are you a moaner, a whimperer, a screamer, or a crier?

He knows his blatant desires for you are cementing you as his “favourite student” you can do things others can only dream of.

You can come to class late and not need a valid excuse, you can borrow any materials without reasoning, you can stay as late as you want during office hours; when anyone else would be politely but firmly told that their time was up.

People have noticed, everyone but you it seems. The rest of the class can’t help but envy you. How the hell do you have such a drop dead gorgeous man wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even realize it!

You’re going to realize it soon, when Viktor tells you to stay behind after class. That he has a theory he’d like to discuss with you.

That theory leaves you with your face feeling like it’s on fire, your throat sore, your body aching in a delicious way, your legs bowed, and your appearance completely disheveled.

Viktor gets the answers he’s been desperately craving and is not disappointed. He can’t wait for the semester to be over. He wants you, and he can pursue you when he’s no longer your professor.

He just gave you a taste of what he’ll give you everyday if you agree to be his.

(You’ll agree to be his. He rocked your shit)

#arcane #viktor arcane #viktor imagine #viktor x reader #viktor smut #professor viktor #arcane imagine #arcane smut #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader #banners by cafekitsune #HEAR ME OUT #HES SO FINE 😩😩#ANY VERSION OF VIKTOR CAN GET IT #(except when he’s a kid)

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godmadeaterribleerror · 1 day ago

Text

Just Giving In

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, truth curses (with a silly twist!), light fluff, angst, smut (fingering, p in v sex, creampie), love confessions, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You're under a very annoying truth curse. The kind of truth curse that will kill you if one very specific, Dean-related truth isn't told. But apparently no one's allowed to just die in peace anymore.

Author's Note: It's amazing how I'm able to delude myself into truly believing that I'll actually write something short and only horny. No. We must write 3k of story and 5k of emotional smut. Enjoy!

Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine

Word Count: 8.6k

It’s past midnight when you get back to the bunker.

You were supposed to be back that afternoon, but certain complications arose, and you’re back now. You’ll have a long, sleepless night to come up with an excuse for why exactly you were five hours late, didn’t text Sam and Dean that you were going to be five hours late, where exactly you were in the first place, and why the car looks like that. Scraped and dented and wrecked, like it had been put through a meat grinder and spat out in a hunk of metal that somehow didn’t explode when you drove it.

You’re glad you didn’t take the Impala. If Dean yelled at you right now, you might start crying on the spot. Thankfully—in what should be a rare stroke of luck, but feels like a dagger right into your stomach—Sam and Dean seem to have given up on trying to wait for you to come home, so you’re free to retreat to your room and cry in private, like any reasonable adult who’s probably going to die within the week would-

“You’re back.”

A light behind you flicks on as Dean snaps from across the room, and you grimace as everything inverts. Dean did wait up for you, and that’s tiny and electric high that goes right up your spine. You’re also not lucky, but that just feels like a given at this point.

You will not cry in front of Dean. You have spent the whole night repeating to yourself that, no matter what happens here, you will not cry in front of Dean. He either think nothing of this week, and it will fade into the distance as you figure this out yourself and he never knows, or he’ll look back on it with nothing but simple grief and anger, remember you fondly and furiously instead of as a weak, emotional, manipulative bitch. Remembers you as the person you’ve spent so long proving yourself to be, instead of the feral girl they’d found you as.

It doesn’t make turning around to face him any easier. He’s sitting in his usual chair, glaring at you with his arms crossed, and there are bags under his eyes that you put there. A tight line to his lips that’s your responsibility, because you’d fucked up and he knows it. He always knows it.

Because you fuck up a lot.

“Hey, Dean, what’s up-“

“What’s up?” He snaps, and you have to force your body not to flinch. “You’re crawling back here at one in the goddamn morning without ever, I don’t know, thinking to fucking call when you realized you’d be late, and you’re saying what’s up?”

You swallow. “I lost my phone.”

“You, fuck-“ Dean rubs his jaw with a hand, giving you a look of pure disbelief. “You could’ve borrow someone’s, or prayed to Cas, or just, goddamnit-“ he mutters your name, looking at you with an exhaustion that makes your gut flail. “Where the hell even were you?”

“Um,” you glance down at your hands. “Hunt?”

“Hunt.” His voice is flat, and you wince. “That’s all you’re going to say.”

You nod. “Rowena called me. Needed help with something.”

“And you just fucking went with her, without telling anyone-“

“I didn’t just go with her, I brought a gun. I was careful.” you try to stand a little taller, looking back up to Dean, because you need to sell your half-truth of a story and get out of here. Out of where Dean’s just right there, and it’s making your skin crawl and your blood cold and your eyes push out of your skull the longer you lie to him. “And I did tell Cas-“

“Son of a bitch, that’s not enough.” Dean groans, pushing out of the chair to glower down at you. It’s an intimidation tactic you’ve seen him use before, where he makes himself large and furious, almost beast like. Sometimes it makes him look bigger than Sam, and he only pulls it out when he’s furious, and demanding answers. You don’t think he knows that, when he uses it on you, it does not have the intended effect.

“Dean-“

“Cas didn’t tell us.” Dean hisses your name, stalking across the room and getting far too close for your brain to function properly. “You need to tell us, because we were, I was-“ Dean cuts himself off with a grunt, his whole body rigid as he scans over your face.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and it’s the truth, so it’s like clear, fresh water over your head and down your throat. “I didn’t mean to freak you guys out. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

“You didn’t-” Dean’s jaw is clenched, and his words seem pushed through his teeth. “Just go to bed,” he mutters your name, and you feel something in your chest snap. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod weakly, and almost run away from him. But not to bed. You’ve already blown this up way too much to just go to bed.

You go right to Sam’s room and bang on the door, keeping a careful eye over your shoulder for Dean to walk into the hall.

It takes a very long, tense minute, but eventually you hear a groan from the other side of the door, tired words muffled through the wood.

“Dean, she’ll be back, and you’re not helping anything-“ The door swings open to reveal a messy haired, bleary-eyed Sam, and he blinks at you with a frown. “Oh, you’re back. You should go tell Dean-“

“He knows.”

“Cool, that’s good.” Sam scans over you—bouncing slightly on your feet, every movement and breath feeling frantic and borrowed—and frowns. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Oh, uh, you need to talk about it-“

You don’t bother to answer, pushing past Sam into his room and dropping on the end of his mattress, watching him blink at you, his frown deepening every second.

“Yeah, you can come in-“

“Can you please close the door?” You whisper, like Dean might somehow hear from wherever he’d gone after your fight.

Sam nods slowly, and the movement you hear the click of the doorknob, the words start to fall out of you like vomit.

“I fucked up, Sam. I really, really fucked up, it’s bad, I’m fucking fucked-“

“Woah, slow down.” Sam moves across the room, running a hand through his hair. “Just, start from the top. Where were you-“

“Rowena called me for help. Some sort of coven drama, she said she needed some backup because her magic was weakened.” You take a long, shaky breath, unable to look anywhere but the corner of Sam’s carpet. “I told Cas, just in case it was a trap, and left. I owed her a favor-“

“Wait, since when did you owe Rowena a favor-“

“Mark of Cain.” You mumble. “I told her I’d owe her if she helped Dean. One favor, cashable on anything.”

Sam says your name slowly. “You didn’t need to do that, we would have figured it out. I mean, Dean wouldn’t want you to-“

“I know, I don’t need you to-“ You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can we focus on one stupid choice at a time, please?”

“Yeah, sorry, keep going. Why are you fucked.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, and decide to skip most of the details. Sam did not need to know about how the case was indeed at trap, or how you’d known it was a trap, but the favor had been a blood oath, so you weren’t able to run or call them. He didn’t need to know how you’d mowed down about five witches with the car—the sickening crunch still rattling around your skull—or how it wasn’t just blood and sweat on your brow, but something from an animal you’d really hoped you’d mistranslated from Latin.

He just needs to know the reason you hadn’t killed Rowena when you’d escaped and taken out the rest of the coven.

He just needs to know about the problem.

“It went to shit. Really big shit, Sam. I’m kind of… cursed.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and when you finally gather the confidence to look at Sam, he’s gaping at you, frozen in place.

“What do you mean,” his voice is low, every word slow and deliberate. “Kind of cursed.”

“I mean very cursed.” You mumble. “Really fucking cursed.”

“Shit.” He mutters, shaking his head. “I said you were probably fine, Dean’s gonna kill me-“

“No!” You stand up frantically, your voice almost a squeak. “Don’t tell Dean!”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I tell Dean?!” Sam snaps, looking at you like you’ve gone insane. “If you’re really cursed, we need all hands, and Dean-“

“He can’t know, Sam, please.” You might start crying, every word choked in your throat. “Don’t tell him.”

“I…” Sam trials off, his face dropping into a deep frown that seems to be mostly made of worry as he says your name. “What, exactly, is the curse?”

You sigh, hugging yourself as you speak. “If I don’t resolve my deepest secret, I’ll die.”

Sam blinks. “Like, die die? Death die?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” His eyes widen as the situation fully sinks in, his whole body going slack as he pulls the pieces together. “Fuck.”

You hum a soft agreement. “Fuck.”

“And why can’t I tell Dean? I mean, he’ll want to help-“

“You know why.” You whisper. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck.” Sam groans. “And you’d rather die than-“

“Yes.” You lower yourself down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare ahead at nothing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I just. I can’t. I don’t-“ You taste the sting of metal as you bite through your cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I’m going to d-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sound, and hear the bed shift as Sam drops at your side and pulls you into a gentle hug.

“We’ll figure it out.” He mutters your name, and you make another weak, strangled noise. “I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Over your first, weak sob, you don’t hear the door open. You only know it opens because Dean clears his throat, and your blood turns white-hot in your body, caught between embarrassment and nerves and a deep, soft and starved piece of your heart that’s trying to climb into your limbs and rip your body away from Sam’s to fly to Dean’s.

“Sammy, she-“ He cuts himself off as he sees you, and you die a little at how he says your name. Like he hates it. “You’re in here.”

You nod, keeping your face angled down, and you hear Dean shift slightly in the doorway.

“Why are you in Sam’s room.”

There’s no good answer for that, and Sam doesn’t seem to have one either. There’s no plausible lie for why you’re on the floor on Sam’s room, why you’re sniffling, and why he’s hugging you that doesn’t sound insane. Even the truth wouldn’t exactly be an easy sell.

And it hurts. When Dean just sighs and grunts that he doesn’t want to know—that you and Sam can go back to fucking braiding each other’s hair or whatever—and stomps out of the room, it’s like a knife to your gut. But you can’t tell him. Not the truth. Not any of it.

So this will only be the first knife. And you’d worry about what you would be telling him when this was over—how you could possibly explain yourself—if you had any faith you were going to get out of this.

But you don’t. The week crawls on, and it all only gets so much worse. Vague illness starts to feel like you’re being mauled from inside, and Dean’s anger turns to bullets.

You spend most of your days in the library with Sam, combing through book after book, looking for anything about how you can fix this, and every time Dean walks in, he looks like he wants to punch someone. Like he’s disgusted by your very presence where he can see you, like you’re a spider that’s crawled into his house and he can’t even stand the sight of you.

“I’m getting dinner.” He snaps on the third night, and when you look up from your book—Sam standing behind you, having hunched over your body to read the passage you’d been pointing to—Dean’s jaw is clenched, his fists curled at his side. “Neither of you got groceries, so I’m ordering. What do you want.”

His voice is flat. It makes your chest feel like it’s being run over by a train.

“I’ll take whatever you get.” You offer him a small smile, because you can’t help yourself, and it just makes him glare more. “But can I please have a milkshake as well?”

Dean narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t know where the hell I’m going.”

“You’re going to the diner, Dean.” You shrug. “You always go to the diner.”

He grunts, something hot flashing over his face that you don’t understand. “Fine. Milkshake.”

He doesn’t bother to ask any follow-up questions. He doesn’t bother to wait for Sam to say what he wants. Dean just marches up to the garage, vanishes for an hour—the diner is ten minutes away, and you start to feel your stomach and heart twist the longer he’s gone—and returns with a slam of the door, throwing a salad at Sam and placing a burger and milkshake in front of you before stomping out of the library.

Dean got your favorite flavor. You hadn’t told him to, but he had.

It tastes like chalk. And you’ve never hated yourself more.

After that, he barely speaks to you. Just low grunts and glowers at you whenever you cross paths, his presence in the bunked suddenly scares. He’d usually sit with you and Sam while you read, cracking unhelpful jokes that make Sam roll his eyes and you giggle, but he’s just gone. Locked in the Dean Cave or the garage, shuffling around the kitchen with a sullen expression, swallowing his dinner whole and refusing to really even look at you.

It hurts more than any anger could. It’s lonely and cancerous the longer it goes on, because you’re still talking to and hanging out with Sam, but he doesn’t count. Your whole heart isn’t orbiting around Sam. The curse is completely indifferent to Sam. The curse doesn’t care when Sam grumbles or frowns at you. It cares when Dean hates you. You think it can feel that this won’t be resolved—because it won’t be, you grow more and more certain with every passing day that this is how you will die—and takes the opportunity to root deeper into your body. Every sneer or glare Dean gives you sits under your nails to claw at your skin. It covers you in sweat in the dead of night, and chokes you when you’re in the shower and the water’s burning your skin.

Sam keeps trying to convince you to just do it, just say the thing to Dean because the worst that can happen is that you’re heartbroken but alive.

“And I really don’t think it would even come to that.” He tells you from across the table at 2am, because you’re running out of time and sleep isn’t something you can even remember how to do anymore. “I mean, it’s Dean-“

“That’s the problem, Samuel.” You hiss. The curse has started to make you mean, and if you make it out alive, you’ll have to buy Sam a million bottles of hair gel to make up for what you’re putting him through. “It’s Dean. He already doesn’t like me-“

Sam frowns. “Why would you think that-“

“Because I’m a responsibility.” You’re spitting, and it tastes like venom. “I’m your kid shadow, I’m Dean’s kid shadow, I’m a burden-“

“You’re not a burden,” Sam says your name slowly. “To either of us. I mean, if what you said about Rowena is true, you saved Dean from the Mark-“

“That doesn’t count. That was just a deal I made-“

“A deal you made for Dean.” Sam’s pushing back. You wish he’d stop. “Most people in our lives wouldn’t have done that for us. And Dean doesn’t think you’re his kid shadow, by the way. I mean, I’ve only ever-“

“Sam.” Your voice is flat. A little broken. “Please don’t. Even if he doesn’t hate me, I- I just can’t-“

“But Dean-“

“Please.” You’re going to cry again. “You won’t convince me.”

Sam sighs, shaking his head. “Well, we need to try something. I’m not just going to let you die.”

You don’t think that’s up to Sam. You don’t think it’s up to anyone anymore. You won’t tell Dean, because you’ve scanned over book after book about spell phrasing, and decided that telling Dean wouldn’t even help. You had to resolve your deepest secret. Rejection that burns your heart to ash, that clouds your lungs and makes you cower and falter won’t be resolving anything, and then you’ll just die in more pain.

You let Sam convince you to try something. More for him than for you. You lock yourself in the bathroom and stare at your hideous reflection in the mirror—your skin a little sunken, your eyes lined with red, your lips raw from being chewed until they bled—and start speaking a whisper, because you can’t stand the sound of your own voice.

“I love Dean Winchester.” You tell yourself, as if you’re not so deeply aware of how your love is tattooed onto your every breath and heartbeat. “I love him. I am going to die, and I love him, and I am very-“ You choke slightly, your eyes stinging as the world blurs. “I am very, very sorry. Not for loving him, but for forcing him to be loved by me. I’m sorry I don’t know how to stop loving him. I’m sorry I’m leaving him. But I am not sorry for loving him. I… I spent a lifetime surrounded by cruel animals who called themselves angels, and he’s the only person I’ve ever- I could believe- I just-“ You drop your head, turning up the faucet to drown out every weak sob and apology. “I love him. And he… he’s too good be obligated to love me. So I think I’ll just…”

You trail off, and crumble onto the tile floor. When you dry your tears and yank yourself back together, Sam’s waiting for you a little down the hall. You shake your head, his shoulders slump, and that’s it. For Sam it’s not—he turns around and marches right back to the library—but for you, it is. You’re done.

You’ll hole up in your room and die alone. Like how’d you’d been meant to all along, lent only a little bit of extra time by Dean saving you to begin with.

And that time had run out. So you’ll just go die alone.

lay flat on your bed as your vision starts to dance with spots, and spend your time trying to image what a heaven you’re not allowed into will look like. Cas has told you every person gets their own, but you don’t really want that. It sounds like more of your life, and it’s pointless to worry about because you’re headed nowhere but down, but you’d still rather spend eternity with someone.

One person. You’d like to spend eternity with one person.

The same person who had somehow gotten into your locked room, and is snapping your name as he stands at the foot of your bed. You’d be angrier he’d just barged in if you could remember how to be anything but in pain. You’d snap back if your mouth knew how to be anything but numb.

“Dean-“

“What the fuck are you doing.” Dean hisses, and you close your eyes, the light suddenly painfully bright. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“Nothing.” You whisper, and he scoffs.

“Nice shot, sweetheart. I’m not an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Dean, I just don’t feel well.”

“That’s fucking bullshit-“

You sigh. “It’s not. I’m sick.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “how sick.”

“Fever.” You mumble. “Stomach bug. Maybe the flu. You should probably leave-“

“No,” he grunts, and you hear his steps. He’s coming closer, and your skin might be boiling off your body. “I’m not leaving you-“

“It’s not leaving if I ask you to go.” You mumble, and you can feel the heat of his body off to the side, can hear his breathing—maybe even his heartbeat—and it’s making everything worse-

“I’m not going.”

“Dean, just, please-“

“No, I’m sick of you fucking ignoring me, and I- I don’t even care what’s going on with you and Sam-“

You frown. “Nothing’s going on with me and Sam-“

“I have eyes,” Dean sneers your name, and there’s a tone in his voice that’s almost wounded. “You were hugging in his room, you’re always fucking whispering and hanging out-“

“That’s not-“ You swallow, dragging your eyes open to find him glaring down at you. He looks wounded too. “It’s for a case.”

“What case? A case that I’m not allowed to know about? Because that’s not a case, sweetheart, that’s a secret-“

You almost throw up, just from that word. “It’s- I’m not keep any secrets, Dean, just please go-“

“No!” He’s almost shouting, and the sound is like a cannon into your gut. “I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but you’re suddenly putting yourself in danger, and stuck to my brother, and you’re not talking to me anymore-“

“You’re not talking to me, Dean.” You whisper, his gaze burning you right down to the cavity of your chest. “I’m always in the library-“

“Yeah, I know, with Sam.” Dean scowls, and you’re too tired to think almost anything, but that’s strange. Dean never says Sam like that. Like it’s a horrible word.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, watching Dean carefully. “He’s helping me with something-“

“Something I can’t help you with?”

You blink, ready to lie and say no, but your mush of a brain doesn’t appear to be up to that task. “No.”

Dean’s brow furrows slightly. “So I could help you.”

“I-“ You feel a stab in your intestine, and your voice grows hoarse. “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Why-“

“Because I- Just go away, Dean-“

He shakes his head, saying your name in a stern, unwavering voice. “Could I help you-“

“N-“ You swallow a groan as your lungs contract, and this is dangerous. You’re too far gone to lie anymore, and that’s the only chance you have. If Dean keeps poking at you, you’ll tell the truth. You can’t tell the truth. “Please just leave me alone-“

“I’m not leaving you alone.” He snaps, dropping onto the side of your bed to prove his point. “You never left me alone, with the Mark-“

“That’s not-“ You can’t swallow your next sound of pain, or the whine that leaves your throat when Dean’s hand grabs your thigh. “Dean, please go-“

“Do you want me to go.”

“No.” You say it before you can think, and hate that the pain over your muscles lessens when Dean stays, and when his hand starts to rub slow circles. “But you- you have to-“

“I said I’m staying.” He grunts. “And you’re not changing my mind, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“I did.” You whisper, closing your eyes again. Looking at his handsome, annoyingly determined face isn’t helping anyone. “I’m sick.”

“Fine. What’s making you sick.”

“Curse.”

Fuck.

Dean’s silent for a long moment, then-

“What the fuck do you mean, curse.”

“Me.” You mumble. “Curse on me.”

“And how did a curse get on you-“

“Rowena.”

“That fucking bitch.” He mutters, and you feel his grip on you tighten slightly. Almost protectively. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me-“

That was probably a rhetorical question. Your sudden truth-telling streak doesn’t seem to care at all. “I was worried you’d hate me.”

“I- what?”

“I was worried-“

“I heard you,” he grunts. “I just, why the hell would you ever think I’d hate you-“

“Because I suck.” You whisper. “And I can’t- I don’t deserve you.”

Dean’s silent again. You wish he’d stop doing that. “You think you don’t deserve me?”

You nod, barely a movement at all, and Dean groans. You’re still not strong enough to look at him.

“Sweetheart, you- I’m not-“ He cuts himself off, his hand resuming his circles, you’re not sure he knows he’s doing it. “I’m going to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth. Got it?”

You hum. Like you’d even have a choice.

“What will cure the curse.”

“I need to,” you try to fight down the words, but you’re light-headed and faint and Dean’s hand is really warm, so you fail. “I need to resolve my deepest secret.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “What’s your deepest secret?”

You’re going to bite off your tongue. And when Dean says your name again, his voice a little rougher, it drags your eyes open to stare at him. Watching you with a focus you can feel in your bones, that’s prying the truth out of you, and he’s just looking at you and you can’t do this-

“Dean, I-“ You digs your nails into your skin, something flashes in his eyes, and you can’t look away. But you can’t stop yourself either, and if you have to watch Dean’s disgust, that might kill you right here. “Please turn around.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I need you to turn around.” You whisper. “Please.”

He nods slowly, twisting away from you, and it’s like a green light to your stupid, traitorous mouth. The words fall out of you like vomit, and if this is the end, at least it might be fast.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years, and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop, and I don’t want to stop, and I love you. Only you. Just you. Can’t remember how to love anyone else, because I love you. I love your jokes and your grumpiness and how protective you are because you make me feel safe, and I love that you’re kind of a dork and a loser but you’re also so hot, I love your voice and your face and your hands, and I and I want you in a, um-“ You squeeze your thighs together, staring at the suddenly rapid rise and fall of Dean’s back. “A way that I shouldn’t talk about-“

“How do you want me.” He grunts, his voice low and a little gruff, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

“On me.” You whisper. “In me. I want you on my face and in my hands and fuck, I want your inside of me. But I also want to wake up next to you and hold your hand and fall asleep in your lap, and fuck-“

You cut yourself off with a whine as something sharp hits your right in the heart, and Dean’s silent. He’s not turning around, or leaving, or doing anything but sitting and breathing for so long, for too long-

“You-“ He shakes his head slightly, and you could swear he’s leaning slightly backward. “You want me.”

“Yeah, I- yes.”

“You love me.”

“Yes.” Too late to go back now. “I love you, Dean.”

“Why- why didn’t you tell me?”

He sounds broken. He sounds sad.

You’re so confused. It’s almost enough to distract from the pain racking your whole body.

“I- I didn’t think you’d-“ Not care. Dean couldn’t not care. He cares too much. “I wasn’t sure what-“

“What I’d say?”

“What you’d do.”

“What would you-“ He’s definitely leaning back. He’s closer, too. “What would you want me to do?”

“What would I want?”

Dean nods.

“I- it doesn’t matter-“

“Yes it-“ He sighs, twisting around to face you. You can’t read the expression on his face. It’s lost and it’s afraid and it’s… hopeful. There’s this small light that’s so deep in his eyes that seems like real, true hope. “Please,” he mutters your name, and you might be melting. “Just, entertain me. What would you want me to do?”

“I’d want to tell me you love me.” You whisper, and if this curse is going to kill you, you hope it does it now, right before you lose all your dignity forever. “Like I love you.”

Dean shakes his head slightly, and your heart might be splitting in half. “But I- I tried to kill you-“

“The demon tried to kill me. That wasn’t really you-“

“Yes, it was-“

“No.” Your voice gains a little strength, and you push up on your elbows. “You saved me, Dean. You rescued me from the angels-“

“Anyone would’ve done that-“

“But they didn’t.” You snap. “You did. And I don’t love anyone, I love you.”

“That’s-“ He groans, his voice growing hoarse. “You- why?”

“What do you mean, why-“

“Why would you love me? I mean, unless this is some sick, fucked up prank-“

“It’s not a prank-“

“Well why?” He shouts your name, and he looks distressed. Like this is shredding him apart. “Why the hell would you love me-“

“Because I like loving you.” You grab his hand, his own panic starting to set into your own body, making this all the worse. “It feels right. And I- I know you don’t love me-“

You’re not sure what’s happening. Dean’s hands are cupping your face, and his mouth is on yours, and he tastes like whiskey and coffee and pecan, and you feel okay. You really feel okay. All the pain and sickness is dissolving from your body, and Dean is kissing you. Kissing you with an unforgiving, demanding desperation, his tongue down your throat and his body lowering down over yours, pinning you to the bed as he groans against your lips.

The sound jumpstarts something in you. Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck right before he can pull away or hesitate, and you throw everything he’s silently offering you back to him. Biting on his lower lip and wrapping your legs around his torso, grinding up into him as he makes a deep, satisfied noise and moves one hand to wrap around you waist, holding you steady against him as he rises up, moving you to stay in his lap.

“You’re, shit.” Dean lets out a low chuckle, pressing a small, gentler kiss to the tip of your nose as you breathe in ragged time. “You’re such a fucking idiot, sweetheart.”

You lean back to frown at him. “No I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are. But I am too.” He sighs, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and speaking against your skin. “Seems like we’re made for each other, huh.”

“Dean, I-“

“Wait, just-“ Dean kisses up the column of your throat, ending right behind your ear, and his voice a low sound that falls right down into your core. “Gimme a second.”

“Dean-“

“Please,” he mutters, and when you pull back he looks nervous. It’s strange, but adorable, and you nod. He needs a second, you’ll give him a million. Anything to keep him here a little longer, to keep the ebb of the sickness going.

“Okay.” You whisper, and—taking the biggest gamble of your life—lean forward to kiss him again. Just a light, almost innocent press of your lips to his. He tenses, his arms around you tightening, and you’d have panicked if it didn’t seem like he was clinging to you. Like he was afraid you were going to vanish.

“I- uh,” Dean says your name slowly, and it’s odd. You’ve heard him say it exactly like that a million, but this feels deeper. Like a prayer. “I lo-“ He cuts himself off, his brow drawing tightly together, and you can feel your heart in your throat. Set to either explode or move into Dean as you hold your breath. “You. I- you- it’s- fuck.” He scowls, and you offer him your gentler smile, running a hand over the soft stubble on his jaw, even as you feel your blood start to go cold again.

“Dean, you don’t have to-“

“Yeah. I do, I-“ He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and speaking against them as if he’s trying to tell your body more than your mind. “I love you. A lot. So stop being cursed.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Did it work?”

It did. The curse seemed to vanish the moment Dean kissed you—like it knew that what he was trying to tell you before he even said it—but now the world is just color and light and Dean. It’s enchanting. He’s enchanting. He’s all genuine and powerful focus on you, and. worry that makes you feel warm, and love you can suddenly see everywhere on him. You don’t know how you missed it before, because it’s in his eyes and coating his lips and in every flex of his body around you. It would knock you down if he wasn’t holding you.

“Yeah.” You smile at Dean, and his own mouth tugs up slightly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugs. “Any time. I, uh, sorry about getting pissed about you and Sam.“

“It’s fine, I-“ You paused, frowning at him. “Were you jealous?”

He scowls, his cheeks turning a little red. “Obviously.”

“Of Sam-“

“You were really close with him all the time.” Dean snaps. “And I- you seemed pissed at me, and super stressed, and usually you’d come to me for that stuff, but you were hugging Sam and talking to him instead of me-“

“Because I don’t love Sam. I love you, that’s why I told you-”

“I didn’t fucking know that.” He grumbles. “I- Sam doesn’t know everything about how I feel about you, but he knew enough, and I- I thought you were choosing him- And I- You’re not my girl but you felt like my girl and I didn’t-“

“Your girl?” Your face splits into a wide smile, and some of the tension seems to leave Dean as he nods.

“Yeah. If you want.”

“Yes.” You squeak, and Dean’s hand starts to run slowly down your thigh. “Yes, please.”

“You sure?” He raises his brows, and it’s really hard to think when he’s so close, and this is suddenly overwhelmingly real. He’s really broad and warm against you, and he’s really touching you, and he said the thing but that doesn’t mean-

“Yeah, but are, are you sure-“

“Baby, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He drawls, and you swallow as he leans in closer, his nose bumping yours. “And I’d be very happy to prove that.”

“Prove it?” You whisper, your eyes trapped onto his glimmering, darkened ones. “I, um, that, how-“

“However you’d like,” he says your name with a smirk, and it’s amazing how any all insecurity he had only a minute ago seems to have vanished. “You wanna tell me how’d you want me to prove it? Or do you need some suggestions?”

You might be drooling. “Suggestions, please.”

Dean hums, holding you carefully as he rises on his knees, bends you down onto the mattress, and starts to trace slow, taunting hands over your body.

“We could start slow,” he mutters, playing with the hem of your shorts, broad fingers brushing over your skin. “I could take my time with you, sweetheart. Do the proper thing, take you out to dinner and movie, wait until the third date to give you everything-“

“No!” You yelp. “Not slow-“

Dean’s hand slides under your shorts, his palm resting right over your already sore pussy, and he chuckles at your high gasp.

“Alright, baby, not slow.” He leans down to pull you into a long, slow kiss, smirking against your lips as you start to grind into his hand. “But we’re going on a date. I’ve had years to plan it, wouldn’t want all my hard work to go to waste.”

You nod a little stupidly, your nails digging into his arm braced near your head. “How- what do you mean years-“

“You’re not the only one who had that at first sight thing.” Dean mutters, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve lost sleep over you, baby girl. We’re going to do this right, no witches involved, but,” he drops his head to kiss right behind your ear, humming as a high moan escapes your lips. “I’ve got a million things I want to do you, and fuck me if I’m going waste time not doing them.”

“Yeah, good, do that-“ You gasp as Dean’s thumb finds your clothed clit, starting to draw firm, fast circles around it. “Shit, Dean-“

“That’s my name.” He growls in your ear, flicking against you and smirking at your high whine. “C’mon, sweetheart gotta get you ready for me-“

“I, I’m ready-“

He chuckles. “No, you’re not. Wanna make you feel good, not break you.”

“What if, fuck-“ You feel a brief, sharp moment of cold air as Dean pulls your shorts and panties down, shoving two fingers into your cunt. He’s watching you so carefully, like he’s studying your every hitched breath and blurred gaze, smirking as he begins to slowly move inside of you, scissoring and crooking and pushing in deeper every time-

“What if what, pretty girl?” He teases, his pace increasing slightly. “Use your words.”

Your back arches off the bed as Dean re-angles his hand, pressing his palm to your clit and starting to rub strong, sharp circles as his fingers reach a blissful, almost painfully good pace, but remain too shallow to hit that sensitive spot deep your cunt and send you over the edge. “What if I want you to break me?” You gasp, your arm wrapping around his neck as he groans, dropping his brow against yours. “Please, Dean-“

“You, fuck-“ He grunts your name, and you feel something prodding at your inner thigh. “Not now, baby, need to be gentle-“

“No you don’t-“

“Yeah, I do.” Dean’s movements still as he rises on his knees over you, and you’re pretty certain the authoritative thing is supposed to be stern and intimidating, but it’s mostly just making you grind on his hand and reach up for him pathetically.

“Dean-“

“Listen to me.” He snaps, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the mattress, sighing as you moan again, squeezing around his fingers, still in your cunt. “Fuck, you nearly just died-“

“I’m okay now.” You whisper. “I feel great. I feel, fuck Dean, I feel so good-“

He hisses as you spread your legs, writhing on the bed for anything, at this point you’ll take anything Dean offers you-

“Fuck yeah, you do.” He mutters, his fingers starting to pump slowly again, scanning over your body with an almost awestruck expression. “Bet you feel like heaven, baby girl, but we need to go slow. I promise I can wreck you later, but today-“

“Slow.” You sigh, and he nods.

“Slow. But,” Dean’s free hand starts to trail under your shirt, palming at your breasts, rolling your nipples between calloused, strong fingers. “Doesn’t mean we can’t take care of you, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck this tight little pussy, still going to get you fucking cockdrunk. Okay?”

You nod, your eyes slightly glazed over, and Dean bends his fingers deep inside you, right one that spot, letting out a low gasp as you whine.

“Say okay, sweetheart.” He grunts, his hand moving from your breast, over your neck, to your mouth, pressing his thumb on your lower lip until it parts. You moan against him, your eyes fluttering slightly, and you’re already too high, too needy, to do anything but listen.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He coos, slowly pushing his thumb between your lips, his nostrils flaring when you start to suck on him with an abandon. “Fuck, so good, I can’t wait to ruin you, baby, you’re never gonna even think about another cock-“

You haven’t thought about another cock in years, and you haven’t even seen it yet. But Dean’s thumb is bumping the back of your throat, so all you can do is moan, give him your best pleading look, and let your head fall back as Dean’s fingers finally move inside of you, pushing and playing on the spot until your orgasm washes over you in bright waves of good. So good. Just, fuck, he’s good-

Dean’s thumb pulls out of your mouth with a pop, and he wipes a little bit of spit off on your upper lip before lowering his mouth to yours, this kiss far too soft and gentle for how you think you might die if he doesn’t fuck you now.

“Look so pretty, cumming on my hand.” Dean moves to the shell of your ear, his growling promise sending a shiver up your spine. “Bet you’ll look prettier fucking squeezing my cock.”

You barely have time to whimper when Dean yanks his fingers out of your cunt, rolls you over so you’re straddling his torso, and raises you up by your hips before pushing you right down onto his dick. You don’t even remember when he took off his pants, or where your shirt went, but those are worries for someone who isn’t being split open on Dean’s cock. Who doesn’t have him drawing small circles on their inner thigh, or isn’t being held up by his hand on their waist.

But you do. You have Dean everywhere, real and warm under your hands as you grip his shoulders, bumping deep against your cervix as he lets you adjust to the size of him, one broad finger reaching down to press—light and taunting—on your clit, and groaning as you squeeze around him.

“Shit,” Dean grunts your name, looking up at you under hooded eyes in a way you don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you before. As if you’re somewhere they’d always expected to be, and they’re still in awe that you’re there. “Gotta be careful, want this to-“

Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you grind on him experientially, clenching again as he hits that electric spot deep inside you. He grabs you firm by your hips, stilling your every movement as he gives you a stern glower.

“You need to listen.” His voice is gravely and lower than you’ve ever heard it, and you’d do whatever he told you to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t whine and scratch lightly at his chest.

“Dean, move-“

“You gonna listen?”

“Yes, just, fuck-“ You gasp as he pulls you up with barely a grunt, slamming your right back down with a roll of your hips.

“Want you to feel good, baby girl, but you need to be careful,” Dean drags one had down to squeeze your ass, his hand still on your waist drawing light circles around your clit. “Or next time might be more than wrecking.”

Your moan is vulgar and shameless, and you’re more than ready to devote sleep to figuring out what more than wrecking will look like, but right now you just fucking need this.

“Need more, Dean,” you whisper. “Need it so bad-“

“I know, sweetheart.” He mutters, trailing his hand up your stomach to squeeze your breast, groaning when you squirm around him. “Think you’re ready to ride this cock? Think you can handle, shit-“

You’d stared to move the movement he’d said ride, rolling your body and arching your back, dragging every bit of confidence you have to grind down onto Dean’s cock, your nails sinking into his abdomen.

“Fuck, yeah.” Dean’s voice is a breath under you, and when you scan over him, he lookslike he’sa little wrecked himself.His eyes on yours are hooded and low, his voice dripping with that same dominating confidence, but something more delicate in the way he’s touching you. Not as if he’s afraid to break you, but afraid you’ll shatter him.

And you did that. You wrecked Dean. And that lights a wildfire in your gut, running through your nerves until they’re sensitive and bare, and into your brain until it’s all just Dean.

You start to move. Slowly at first to test the waters, but—when Dean just groans and ruts up into you—quickly picking up pace until you’re bouncing on Dean’s cock, your thighs squeezing his torso and your clit rubbing on his abdomen, his ever grunt and hiss and bruising grip just making your need grow bigger as you slam him onto that deep spot-

“Shit, I’m- Slow down-“

Dean’s hiss is low, and you immediately obey, changing to long, slow movements as Dean hums.

“There you go baby, such a good girl.” His hand moves from your ass to your lower back, rubbing soothing patterns as he praises you. “You’re so hot baby, fucking ruined on my cock-“

You make a high, breathless sound you don’t recognize, moving your hips in a circle to try and chase more friction, and Dean chuckles.

“You alright up there-“

“Good,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut to try and focus your all on Dean beneath you. “So good, Dean, feels so good-“

“Need a little more?”

“Yes-“

“More descriptive than that, sweet girl.” He teases, and when this is done, you’re going to kill him. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to-“

“You,” the word falls out without thought, because most of you belongs to Dean. “Just you, only need you-“

“You love me?” Dean’s voice is low, and when you open your eyes to look at him, there’s a small chink in his armor. You don’t know if you pried it open, or if you’ve just never noticed, but you can see right into him, and he still doesn’t really believe that you love him.

And that’s the only thing you’ve ever really know. You loving Dean has been the only truly certain thing in your life, because Dean’s a given and loving him feels like breathing.

So you smile at him, reaching forward to cup his face, and tell him with everything you have, hoping he can hear how the words are in time with your heart.

“I love you,” you whisper. “And I’m yours.”

He blinks at you, shaking his head slightly even as his dick twitches inside you. “You don’t need to be, it’s- you know, dirty talk-“

“I know.” You shrug. “I’m still yours.”

Dean’s nostrils flare, and you know you’re not getting control back from him for the rest of the night.

You’re fine with that. Dean starts to rock you back and forth around him, letting you just fall into and around him, and your lost to any world that isn’t Dean. Isn’t his hand splayed on your lower back or his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and ass. Anything that isn’t his cock hitting part of you that you didn’t know existed and filling you up so much you’re not sure how you’re ever going to manage being empty again.

You don’t think you will have to manage. Dean’s holding you like he’s trying to brand himself on your body, like he needs you feel him for the rest of your life. And you will. You’ll feel the bliss Dean’s drawing from your body that’s better than any heaven you could have imagined, rising slowing below the surface, ready to burst at any moment.

You’ll hear him too. Hear every deep noise of his own pleasure, hear the slapping of his skin on yours, hear his low praise echo around your head and ribs for the rest of your life.

“You’re mine, baby girl.” He growls, the sound rumbling in his chest and rolling right into your pussy, making you throw your head back with a breathy whimper. “Fuck, you’re so hot riding me, feel so good around me, tight and warm-“

Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you reach behind your body, your hand finding his balls to squeeze lightly.

“Goddamnit, sweetheart-“ He groans, jerking slightly inside of you. “Fuck, keep doing that, so fucking needy for me, fucking soaking this cock-“

You grind around him, and his pace starts to lose rhythm. Even after he swats your hand away you know he’s lost his own self-control, and fuck he looks hot without it. Starting to rut up into you in uncontrolled movements, pulling you to pieces with a lustful, ardorous gaze and brutal pace and strong hands, moving back to your clit and rolling it between his fingers-

Your mouth falls open in a silent, needy cry of pleasure as your orgasm bursts over you. It’s not sudden, but you couldn’t never anticipated the power of it—like someone had doused you in gasoline that smells like whiskey and fruit, lit a match, and turned to into a star—or how it rides on and on, never seeming to crest or crash as Dean slams home inside of you, warmth coating your pussy and running down your thighs as he moans your name.

Dean helps you float down to earth, leaving careful, deliberate touches on your skin and humming as his knees rising up to support you. You watch his gaze rakes down your body, lingering on where he can see himself spill out of your pussy, and moves to slowly drag through the mess, gathering some on two fingers before rising them up to your mouth. You open without hesitation and his throat bobs, his cock twitching inside you as you lick his release off his hand, your eyes never leaving his wide, reverent one.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters. “How the hell did I get so lucky?”

You let out a soft laugh. “You stole my line.”

“Nah.” He shrugs, tracing a hand over your cheek. “You could have anyone you want, baby, but you’re here, with an asshole like me-“

“You’re not an asshole.”

“Yeah, I am.” He shrugs, like you can’t see how his own words pierce him through that chink. “Shit, I just accused you of sleeping with Sam-“

“And I’ve been lying to you for years.” You lean down, resting your chin on his chest, giving him your widest smile. “Neither of us are saints, Dean. And I happen to be the right kind of fucked up to let possessiveness hot.” You pause, giving him your best stern glare. “To a degree. I will slap you the next time you accuse me of fucking Sam.”

Dean laughs, his around wrapped—gentle and relaxed—around you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You hum, resting your head to the side, and you might be here for a hundred years. Time blurs and slows until it’s just Dean’s heartbeat near your ear, his thumb tracing a pattern on your arm, and his face buried in your hair. The end of the world might have already come to pass when his hand moves to your chin and he angles your gaze to his, and you wouldn’t really care. You’re still where you need to be.

“Would you,” he lets out a slow breath, all his cocky arrogance gone, his eyes on yours nervous. The hope is back, but it’s wrapped in soft fear. “I’m not good at- shit-“

He’s going to hurt himself, and you take pity on him. You lean does to press a sweet kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue trail over his lips, and rising back up with a small smile.

“Can we go on a date, Dean?”

He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah. Whatever you want, baby girl.”

Your smile strains at your cheeks, because you only want Dean.

And you’ll have to write Rowena a thank you note, because you finally have him.

End Note: Me make a story with no prior lore challenge: impossible

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

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

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@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

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@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 days ago

Text

P*rn ☆

Chapter 4, Raw, next question

Masterlist

Word count: 1.8 k

Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Here we go babes! I hope ya'll like it. I am going to be very busy this weekend and part of next week, so I'll leave ya'll with this for the upcoming few days. Lots of love <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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It's not like you to forget about watching a Red Crow video, but it totally slipped your mind after Tara started suggesting different single guys to you. Seems like she's known Sylus for a while and isn't stoked about the idea of you liking him. For some reason, that gets you going even more.

Sure, could be that he is a disturbed individual, but you figure it has more to do with his cold demeanor. It almost sounded like she was talking you out of talking to him again after her offer to give him your number. Almost like she suddenly remembered something. Could it be that she also knows about what he does? If that's the case, she's less innocent that you thought she was.

Either way, she kept you busy until there was a knock at the door and you realized it was already 2 am. No wonder you had been getting sleepy. 'I'll get it,' you offer, you brain fried once more but this time the sleepiness is to blame. Tara giggles in response.

You expected Kieran to come knocking so that Tara could drive him home. Instead, Sylus leans over you once more when you open the door, one hand on the top of the doorframe the other in his pocket. He's incredibly close, closer than one normally is when knocking on someone's door. Is he doing this on purpose?

The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hang around him like a cloud, mixing in with his cologne to create the most intoxicating smell you've ever smelled. His shirt is a little more unbuttoned than it was before and there's a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You figure he's drunk or close to drunk.

But then he speaks, and he sounds stone cold sober: 'Hey, can you tell Tara Kieran is sleeping over. He is in no state to move.'

'What happened to “taking it easy”,' Tara shouts from the couch. Sylus stands up a little straighter, removing his hand from the doorframe, and looking over top of me to Tara on the couch. He grins slyly.

'Nothing we haven't done before.' She hops off the couch and rushes over, looking slightly agitated.

'Sylus, that can refer anywhere from a gross shot to LSD,' she snaps at him. He leans down over her like he just had with me. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and it almost looks like her hair is puffing up like an angry cat. Suddenly, you understand why she might've wanted to curb your interest in Sylus but the teasing tone that slips from his lips so easily gets you fucking going. Without really noticing it, you bite your lip for no more than a second while your thighs rub together.

He notices though. His eyes flicker over to you for just a second and his grin widens ever so slightly. 'No drugs. I quit that stuff. He's just very drunk.' Tara groans. 'You can check if you want.'

'I will,' she snaps as she pushes past the two of you and quickly disappears into Sylus’ apartment.

And suddenly, you are harshly reminded what happened the last time you and Sylus were alone. Reminded of that video that you still haven't fully watched. The first few seconds are engraved in your memory. Sylus, completely dressed with his hand slowly rubbing over the tent in his pants, low groans leaving his lips.

When you look up at him again, you swear he knows exactly what's going on in your mind. There's that sly grin on his lips again. 'Having a fun night?'

'Oh, fuck you,' you groan, and feel yourself puff up like Tara had as you cross your arms with an annoyed expression on your face. If he knows, you might as well cuss him out for it. He deserves as much, and he seems to like it as a rich laugh slips from his lips.

He leans even closer, still towering over you with his eyes focused on yours. You feel your cheeks and ears heat up like you've just shoved your head against a space heather. 'You know who I am,' he states. You can almost feel your attitude melt like snow thrown on a fire as you nod.

'You know what I do,' his voice is gravely, low, seductive. He's enjoying this. You nod again. No more snow, only fire. Fire in your loins and in your fucking ovaries. You are going to burst. He moves in even closer.

'Use your words, sweetie.' One of his two signature pet names for his audience. Your panties are soaked, your blood is boiling, and your attitude is back. Because, if he keeps this going, you two will be down and dirty right here in your doorway. Ain't no way you're letting Tara see you in that state.

'Back the fuck up before I jump your bones.' Maybe you should've just said the first part. His confidence wafers for a second before he realizes what you mean. He’s even closer now, his lips next to your ear, voice barely above a whisper.

'Did you like what you did to me?'

'Kieran is passed out,' Tara loudly announces before peaking her head around the corner. Before she can, Sylus moves back and crosses his arms, looking like he's bored out of his mind while you are bright red in the face. 'Sylus, help me get him in the car. We have plans tomorrow.'

'Yes ma’am.'

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3 am. The world outside is quiet, just like Sylus likes it. Kieran was a real pain to get in the car but at least he gets to listen to some records on his own now. Luke had left long before but Kieran always sticks. Sylus can only hope he'll be awake enough to walk into Tara's apartment when they get there.

Today had been interesting to say the least. He hasn't been this risky in a long time, teasing someone who clearly knows who he is. Could be a very awkward situation in the future if she ever grows over her lust for him, but for now he's fine. This could be a fun little game between the two of them. No one else needs to know, but what if he just films his content after he's seen her. Like how he did today.

Short conversation, make a video wearing what she saw him in, turn her on so he can listen to her sweet little moans pierce through the thin walls. He does need to keep his schedule though, otherwise it'd be too suspicious. On the other hand, no one would complain about an extra video occasionally.

The soft thud of the needle bumping off his record pulls Sylus out of his trance. The room is suddenly awfully silent. Then, he hears it.

The softest of whimpers.

He turns off the record player and walks into his room curiously. The sound is coming from the air extractor fan in the bathroom, just as it had this afternoon. The shower isn't running and your noises sound farther away, so it's possible that you're in your bedroom with the bathroom door open.

"Is she doing this on purpose," Sylus questions as he stands in the middle of his bathroom, listening to the sounds you make while his dick starts to strain against his pants. "Would she hear it if I did the same thing?"

His curiosity quickly gets the better of him. Just for good measure, he quickly sets up his phone to record on top of the toilet reservoir and presses record. Then, he moves to lean against the sink cabinet, his head thrown back as he rubs over the fabric of his pants, just as he had this afternoon.

He hears a particularly lewd moan and prays to the gods above his phone picked the sound up. His hand moves to his zipper and he undoes himself skillfully and fast. He takes his dick out of his boxers, not bothering to take his pants off. It's hard as a fucking rock and already leaking with just those little sounds.

"What is this woman doing to me?"

Lazily, he starts stroking his dick. Soft groans and moans slipping from his lips, suppressed in an attempt to still hear you through the vents. Then the prettiest picture slips into his mind.

You, laying on your back in his bed, naked. Heels planted on his mattress, legs spread, hands lazily pulling on the hair on the back of his head. That beautiful blush on your cheeks, looking desperate and longing for release while he drives his length into you. The little sounds you make, so much louder when he's this close, so much more beautiful. Your eyes focused on him and only him.

His hand starts moving faster, chocking his dick ever so slightly while his other hand grips the sink, knuckles turning white. An animalistic sound leaves his throat, a sound he's never made before. Something like a chocked growl.

God, that image. He'd lean in closer, wrap his arms around your body to pull you closer, his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and shoulders while your nails leave trails on his back. One of his hands would leave your body, move to your little bud of nerves to help you reach ecstasy.

Another growl leaves his throat, louder this time. He's getting so close after so little time. Is this really all because of you? Because some pretty girl showed interest in him? He's not sure, but the picture in his mind keeps getting more and more realistic. His eyes screw closed, head leaning forward now, his breathing heavy.

He'd sit down on his heels, pull you onto his lap and hold you close to his chest, as close as humanly possible, while picking up the pace and drilling into you. Your pretty little moans would get louder, would morph into his name so beautifully strewn out on your tongue, barely recognizable to anyone but him. And you'd bite his collarbone. The pain and pleasure of the whole thing tipping him over the edge, his hands bruising your skin, serving you the same mixture to help you fall into the abyss with him.

Hot ropes of cum lay on the tiles in front of Sylus while he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't hear your voice anymore, so you must be done as well.

"What the hell just happened?"

He steadies himself and grabs his phone from the toilet reservoir, stopping the recording. Before he can throw the thing to the side again, he gets a notification on his video from this afternoon. When he opens it, the name and profile picture look awfully familiar. It's you, there's no denying it. His lips pull into a grin when he reads your comment.

"Raw, next question."

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Previous - Next

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Taglist

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@iraot

@nyxie-00

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mallowmaenad · 3 days ago

Text

just wanted to specify amd correct some things as an autist that watches my little pony like almost every single day, actually. No exaggeration. Anyway:

-The racism monsters actually only appear when the ponies are too racist to each other, though they are absent from G5 and their names are very close to an american indigenous word you are not supposed to say.

-I do think there are reasons why the G5 movie is bad related to the pony racism that I think is only made worse by tying it into G4 and I think people are more mad about that and the wiping away of the new status quo it does in the process than just "the ponies being racist"

-There is an episode where an envoy of yak diplomats comes to equestria and they try really hard to make them feel at home with pieces of their culture with the lesson learned being that they aren't able to understand the nuances of their culture and shouldn't try to imitate it and should instead share parts of their own culture with the yaks

-I don't think that episode with Yona was about subjugating her into pony culture it was a part of a wider plot to impress a pony boy she was going to like, magic-school-prom with by following pony beauty standards and manners with the lesson being that he doesn't care if she does and likes her for her

-its a fucking kids show theyre not "sending out missionaries" or teaching "superior pony values" its friendship its fucking friendship they're teaching people about friendship because Twilight Sparkle is The Princess of Friendship thats her fucking job to spread Friendship As A Concept throughout the realm thats why she built the school because seasons 1-8 was her learning about friendship and teaching others about it and became the Authority On Friendship in equestria she basically has a masters degree in being friends and getting along with people and wanted to build a school that taught these lessons en masse.

-there was like 1 guy on the school board who disagreed with the school being integrated who has a change of heart after being rescued by the main group of students the story focuses on in the school

And like, also, I don't think anyone is actually "racist" in my little pony if you look at what racism actually is, nobody is being systemically oppressed in equestria, there are episodes throughout the show written about things like unfamiliar people and situations, interacting with people whose culture differs from your own and other similar lessons and because the ponies are characters in a children's show and not real life adults. They are going to act in ways that we would deem inappropriate for an adult to act towards people who look or act different from them because thematically, they are demonstrating a situation that a child might encounter with less knowledge and emotional intelligence than an adult would have.

They don't for example, shun Zecora and spread rumors that she's a witch because the writers of MLP want to show that the mane 6 and ponyville are a bunch of backwards racists but to tell a story about how just because someone seems strange or scary to you at first because of the way they look and act, doesn't mean that they actually are. Later in the series they approach versions of this issue in different scenarios and angles and from the standpoint of writing a show for children, that's really good.

I think one valid point to bring up is what the series does with the character Daring Do who starts out as essentially, rainbow dash's self insert while fantasizing as she reads a series of pulp action novels Twilight lent her that was later just turned into a real pony which came with a lot of messy foibles, mostly, going from making her essentially a fictional pastiche of indiana jones in-universe to a pony that was actively stealing artifacts from indigenous cultural sites, and they do end up having an episode addressing this that I thought was very awkward and stilted because maybe it's difficult to teach about imperialism with kid gloves on, maybe the episode could've been written a lot better or made at a time that wasn't literally when the series was just about to end for good. Not to mention if it is even appropriate how they sometimes depict these indigenous people Daring Do is taking from.

There is racism in My Little Pony I think would be productive to discuss in a serious light, but this upset over children's cartoon characters doing things to set up lessons about why things like racism is bad or using such a heavy-handed term to describe things as light as a joke about a reaccuring pun or god forbid, wanting to teach people different from you about friendship is some outrageous overly-padded-video-essay type shit and I wish we'd stop making jokes about tumblr having poor reading comprehension and start actually improving our reading comprehension instead of cobbling together reasons to make fun of a cartoon because it sounds vaguely righteous and leftist on a surface level reading to a userbase that will agree with anything that sounds vaguely righteous and leftist.

i'm gonna be honest i don't get why they say everypony instead of everybody in mlp. it's not like the word everybody is human-specific. the ponies have bodies. the word everypony, however, is pony-specific in a world where ponies are not the only people in their society, which means it would be more accurate and inclusive to use everybody instead of everypony. it all makes no sense to me

#long post

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wikaa33 · 3 days ago

Text

my first shift!

so, i went to sleep at like 2 am. it’s really important to mention that during that day i felt worse when it comes to my mental health because of personal reasons.

for this whole day all i’ve been thinking about is how badly i want to be with my s/o right now and generally in my dr. as i was going to sleep i decided that i am not going to try to shift tonight, i will simply imagine my s/o hugging me so i can comfortably fall asleep and feel safe. and i also had decided that i will be taking a break from shifting to focus on my mental health - a funny thing is that i thought to myself “what if i shift tonight? just like those people who go on a break and they shift unintentionally. that would be funny”

i went to sleep. i woke up during the night and i see that there’s a peace of white fabric above my bed. and now, long story short - i decided that if i try to shift in a few days i’ll first shift to my own room with a slight difference (my walls were supposed to be pink or i was supposed to have a white bed canopy). then i’ll shift to my dr. so i wake up and i see this white peace of fabric above my bed right, my first thought was:

“no way that this is happening right now.”

and as i said that i sat on my bed and started to affirm that i am in my dr, that my s/o is right beside me. my head started spinning so much, i laid my head on my lap, i don’t know how to explain it. everything was spinning to this point that i didn’t know what was going on, i saw some bright lights (this is kinda weird because i would never think that i will feel symptoms as i kinda don’t really believe in that but whatever). as i was affirming that my s/o is right beside me, i’ve felt that someone is sitting on my bed. i’m assuming it was him. but well, i got scared! LMAOO and as i opened my eyes i saw that i am in my room.

dumb me didn’t realize that i had shifted. i looked at my phone and saw that it’s exactly 3:20 am. i saw that my door was opened (i never leave it this way). it made me really anxious and i decided to go to my parents room to talk with them and calm myself down. as i stood up from bed i saw that there are a lot of push pins on my floor - white and light pink ones. in my cr room i have them on my walls, so i thought that they simply fell down on my floor. i put on some slippers (that i saw for the first time in my life) which were super small. it confuses me why i didn’t realize that it was a shift tbh, maybe it’s because i was super tired and anxious and all i had in my head is to go to my parents? i don’t know.

so as i am walking through the hallway i see that someone is standing behind the door to my house - i saw that because through peephole i could see that the lights outside were turned on. i walk towards the door and i see a person - i thought it was my friend who lives in front of my apartment. i thought that he was trying to find keys to his house but then he started walking towards my door. he knocked - silly me thought that it would be funny to knock back (“haha he probably doesn’t expect this at 3:20 am, i’m gonna scare him”).

as i knocked back i realized that it wasn’t my neighbor (he had his head down the whole time and just now i saw an unfamiliar face). he started knocking aggressively on my door and i saw that more men were climbing the stairs. it was so scary because suddenly more people were knocking on my door. just before i went to tell my parents, i made sure that the door was locked.

my mom woke up and she asked me what’s going on. my dad came up to me. i told them that some weird people are just behind our door. as i towards the door with my parents i see that the door started to open. it made me panic because i thought that it was locked.

these men walked into our house and THEY TOOK OUT A STUN GUN? i reached my hand to take it away but this one guy tried to use it one me. i quickly put my hand back, my dad started to talk with those guys. as he was distracting them, i quickly grabbed the stun gun. i tried scaring them away but ALL OF THEM TOOK OUT NAILS? (you know, these metal things) i got so scared because i thought that if i use this stun gun on them then the nails will become electrified and they will hurt me or my parents.

and that was the last thing i saw. i guess i got so scared that i shifted back. tbh this doesn’t really make sense but trust me: when i came back i was so confused why i am in my bed. my heart was beating. then it clicked: “omg. i shifted”. LIKE IT WAS SO REAL, SO SCARY I HAD TO GIVE MYSELF SOME TIME TO REALIZE WHAT JUST HAPPENED. I JUST WAS SO SURE THAT IT WAS A SHIFT, IT WAS SO REAL. also, when i came back it was 3:28 which is pretty interesting.

when i came back i was STRESSED. like truly LMAOO but now as i am thinking about it - a win is a win right. I SHIFTED YALLL to a scary place but whatever. i learnt so much from this shift, i’m so happy!! i’m assuming that it was a scary experience because while trying to shift from this “kind of a waiting room” to my dr i felt anxious, gotta work on that but also as i said i’m not feeling well mentally so yeah i’m not surprised

but what i’m surprised about is the fact that i didn’t realize that i shifted. but like, it felt so real that i was SCARED FOR MY LIFE I THOUGHT I WAS IN MY CR. kinda sad cause if i had realized that i shifted i would have been able to shift to my dr from there but whatever! i learnt so much 💗🙏🏼

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456-is-the-way · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you if you could do a smutty In-ho x fem! Reader x Gi-Hun. Something along the line of they are both pining and see each other go to talk to reader alone and decide to wait. In-ho talks to her during lights out and Gi-hun talks to her doing mingle. In the final fight, she goes with either in-ho or Gi-hun and the stand of at the end, ends with them deciding to truce for a moment and share reader.

A/n: OMG A smutty story with both the hottest daddies!? Yet people keep the requests coming because I have many more to write! I hope to post at least 3 stories a week only because I am returning to my job after my holiday vacation! ALSO regarding the TAGLIST IDK why it won't let me add people like some it won't bring their name up SO I am not sure how to fix that RIP Im sorry y'all!!! ALSO, late tonight or tomorrow my part 1 of my 4-part Gi-Hun story is coming out!! (Hints of In-ho x reader) will also be in the story! Next week I'll have 3 more requests stories done!

Trigger warning: SMUT

Squid Game Masterlist

In-ho x Reader x Gi-hun

Love and War

Being in the games was the last thing (Y/n) was expecting, or at least in a life-or-death situation. She took a breath, looking over the group she was lucky enough to be in. Gi-hun did not hide the looks in her direction. Her (e/c) orbs meet his. (Y/n) could feel her cheeks warm up as Gi-hun winked. She turned away, looking at the ground quickly. How could two people be so obvious in their lustful looks? Their group quickly picked up on their subtle hints, flirtatious works, mindful touches, and lustful gazes. However, it sparked a rivalry between Gi-hun and his newfound friendship with Young-Il. The other gentleman also expressed his feelings towards (Y/n), which did not go unnoticed. (Y/n) happily reciprocated the attention she received from both of these handsome bachelors. It was lights out, and as normal, their group gathered in one spot, taking turns on night shift duty. Many thought of them as one of the strongest teams for now. In-ho sighed deeply as he was woken by Jung-bae. “Your turn.” He whispered. In-ho only responded with a grunt getting up to take his place by (Y/n). In-ho looked over her figure. It honestly pained him to lie to (Y/n) of all people. While scouting for participants, he would collect all their data and reasoning for poor financial situations. He never showed favor or pity towards anyone until now. Why did it have to be her of all people?

“I can take watch by myself if you need me to. I want you to have all the rest. Especially for the next challenge… I am nervous to find out what it may be.” In-ho whispered. She gave him such a warm and loving smile. In-ho had not felt butterflies like this in his stomach in so long the feeling was almost foreign. The way her eyes would almost sparkle while gazing into his. In-ho felt his breath be taken away every time.

“No, I won't allow you to not have a partner. We agreed on pairs of two. I am going to be fine. I could say the same for you, Young-Il.” She gazed into his eyes and before anything else could be said In-ho leaned in kissing her deeply. (Y/n) gasped but did not pull back once his warm lips dominated hers. In-ho cupped her cheek before letting his hand trail down squeezing her beast. “W-Wait.” Her voice seemed weak from the desire but quickly In-ho stopped all his advances.

“Fuck (Y/n) I am so sorry if I hurt you.” His eyes showed nothing but absolute worry.

“Young-Il, you didn’t hurt me. I just. We cant I-”

“You love Gi-hun. Don’t you?” He asked.

She looked away rubbing her temples. “I am unsure who I like. I have feelings for you both but if we act out on them… If you or him dies I would never be able to get over your death, or is..” She leans against In-ho resting on his shoulder.

“I understand…I love you.”

“I… I love you as well.” (Y/n) whispered cuddling into him.

….

After the night the next game had started early that morning, and (Y/n) had not been expecting what was to come. As the game commenced it felt very intense making sure the groups had the correct amount of people in each room. They even teamed up with new players they clicked with instantly. As it began getting lower in numbers for each door (Y/n) became nervous. She felt Gi-hun grab her hand gently. “I got you.” He whispered. Once the merry-go-round stopped and the number was ‘2’ he instantly took off with her ultimately forgetting about any of the others. Even shamelessly (Y/n) did not even look back for In-ho. Once in the room the door instantly shut. The female leaned against the wall as Gi-hun was breathing heavily on the other side of the room, “Gi-hun, are you okay?”

Gi-hun did not bother to answer before walking over to (Y/n) and kissing her deeply. The female lets a shaken moan out as their bodies are pressed against each other. His hands hold her waist before lowering down her backside and cupping her ass. “G…Gi-hun, babe, we cant.” Her body was on fire for this handsome older man.

“You love me… I know you do.” He let you go resting his forehead against yours.

“I…I do love you. I have since the moment I laid eyes on you. I can’t be with you Gi-hun. I wont risk getting attached-”

“Is it because of Young-Il? Is that the true reason? I heard you both talking last night. I know you have feelings for him of some kind… I want to know if he-”

“No, my love it's not because of Young-Il… I care for you both but if I got too attached and lost either of you I… I wouldn't be able to ever move on.” When the doors unlocked she took his hand, “Talk later okay?”

Gi-hun nods walking out as their hand in hand. In-ho instantly noticed and sent a glare at Gi-hun who met his gaze with a stronger one.

…

(Y/n) was soaked in her friend's blood as she was on her knees. Gi-hun and Jung-Bae beside her on their knees. In front of them stood a man who organized the games. With a quick hand motion from the man in the black mask, Jung-Bae was pulled away. Gi-hun went to help but a gun was quickly pulled out.

“Don’t” (Y/n) begged, tearing up. Her eyes widen as the gun slowly is lowered.

“I love you (Y/n).” The Front Man whispered she glared into his eyes.

“I hate you.” She glared. In-ho took a moment before removing his mask. Both (Y/n) and Gi-hun gave his a look showing all their bundled up emotions. “You… are the Frontman. HOW COULD YOU!” (Y/n) cried loudly .

In-ho leans down, “My real name is In-ho, I joined yes, but I never expected to fall in love with you! Please… Let me have you before anything else happens… Gi-hun.” He turned to his friend who reluctantly nodded they both desired you and that over powered all current feeling. The triangle guard let Gi-hun free before leaving.

“Please lets forget about all of this. For a few moments.” Gi-hun adds agreeing with In-ho. What felt like eternity she agrees.

Gi-hun instantly pulled her against his frame smashing their lips together. In-ho kneels down pressing against her back side kissing up (Y/n)’s neck. The female moaned loudly into the kiss as her body is sandwiched between theirs. “Fuck.” She gasped as Gi-hun trailed down to the other side of her neck. In-ho proceeded to slides his large hands under her shirt cupping her bare breasts. Her nipples already were hard. “Ngh! (Y/n) whined as he pinch them roughly pulling her buds harshly.

“Take her shirt off.” In-ho growled.

“Slide her pants down.” Gi-hun adds. (Y/n) had no time to react before her shirt was being lifted and sweatpants pulled down swiftly. Once practically naked she puts a hand on their bulges rubbing both men. They let out a shaken groan each, Gi-hun’s voice held a submissive tone while In-ho growled dominantly. Their already hardening cocks were at full attention. Gi-hun’s leaking precum at the tip. In-ho leans his forhead against (Y/n)’s shoulder cock twitching as she worked both touch starved men.

“F-Fuck I’m close.” Gi-hun whined.

In-ho chuckled,” Baby slow down before he blows a load in your hands. Let us inside of you.”

“MMmm… But will b-both fit?” She asked inhaling as Gi-hun reached down feeling her soaking wet panties.

“Fuck you are soaked honey. Did jerking us off turn you on that much?.. Yes dear we will both fit.”

(Y/n) nods and spreads her legs, In-ho nods to Gi-hun, She arches, feeling both their cocks brushing her entrance. “AHH FUCK Gi-hun. In-ho!~” (Y/n) was held up by the men who began roughly thrusting into her tight and warm pussy.

“Fuck baby you are tight.” “Your pussy was made for your us.” “Going to fill you up.”

Both of their praises made the knot tighten inside of her. “FUCK!” She cried out as their cock meet the perfect rythem until she felt the euphoria hit all at once. Her pussy clams down making both men cum deep inside. The three now lay there panting in pleasure. (Y/n) closed her eyes.

“I love you both.” Her voice is strained. Gi-hun instantly responsed with a quick ‘I love you back’ .

In-ho sighed deeply kissing her cheek knowing nothing would be the same after this. He loved her too much.

#squid game x reader #player 456 #seong gi hun #seong gi hun x reader #squid game fanfiction #squid game smut #in ho x reader #gihun x inho #gihun x frontman #squid game fanfic #seong gihun smut #in ho smut #455 #001 squid game #001 x 456 #smut #Jung-Bae #gihunxreaderxinho

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aruellelite · 11 hours ago

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#fielding also wrote another response to/parody of pamela called joseph andrews which is as the title implies something of a genderswap of#pamela in terms of gorgeous virginal determinedly virtuous young person pursued by older persons who should know better. but joseph andrews#the novel unlike the novella shamela which is a pure parody of Pamela also riffs on other then-contemporary fiction and also don Quixote by#cervantes in that quite a lot of it is a picaresque adventure and besides all that fielding is also advancing his own style and ideas#(some of that's from the Wikipedia page some of it & the reason for my actual awareness of it is my observations on a 4 part 1980s bbc radio#version I've heard like twice on bbc radio 4 extra and which i lowkey adore. Joseph spends a lot of that version and i think the book but#they're maybe more explicit about it in the radio version getting into situations not of his own making & more than once involving losing#some or all of his clothes which given his widely acknowledged attractiveness is significant and always played at least partially for laughs#even the time when it's because he was robbed of everything & beaten and left for dead in a ditch by footpads or highwaymen or something.#to be fair the comedy in that situation comes later when he is found and rescued by a stagecoach and taken to an inn and nursed to health#& a maid at the inn sets her cap at him & he will have none of it because he has a sweetheart & they both believe devoutly in premarital#chastity despite both being ostensibly of yokelish rural stock so that nobody would mind all that much if they did preempt their vows given#how deeply in love – and determined to marry once they are in a financial position to do so – they are)#(there's also a more recent bbc radio version joseph andrews remixed where it's like a collaboration between henry fielding and his wife#charlotte. them telling the tale together in a way that apparently makes the characters richer and more three-dimensional and so the story#as a whole has a more up-to-date twist. but i haven't actually listened to that yet despite how much i liked the 80s version & will probably#enjoy that one because it isn't expiring/being removed from the sounds app and i prioritise listening to the things that do/are lol) (via @unicornprincessinthetardis)

The most entertaining part of old literature is the amount of books that are just (often not particularly positive) responses to other books

#literature #haha yes #ooh interesting #intertextuality

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acesofspadess · 14 hours ago

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Track Walk {3}

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1 // part2 // pt 3//

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4/5 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

f1gossipofficial

f1gossipofficial The plot thickens, just weeks after Lando was seen with Magui sparking romance rumours, Y/n was seen at the Nice airport in a jet we know to be Max’s wearing Lando’s 4 lines necklace, but also a custom hoodie we know to be Oscar’s… what is going on

user45 user62 you seeing this

user62 oh im seeing this

user81 what on earth is going on in the house of commons

By the next morning, Charles and Alexandra had dropped you off in front of the condominiums Max had sent you to. “We will gladly take you in if you need to.” Alexandra said, hugging you. “I hope I won't need to, but thank you.” you hugged her back, then hugged Charles, “Keep us updated, especially Oscar, we know he won’t show it.” You nodded silently. They waved you off as you walked in with two bags. You took the elevator up to the floor and walked down the hallway, there wasn’t many doors, but theirs was the last one.

You knocked on the door, anxiety clawing at your chest. This wasn’t how you envisioned your first time here. You wanted to see their home under better circumstances, with smiles and excitement, not the cloud of pain that hung over all of you. The sound of footsteps on the other side made your heart race, followed by the door swinging open.

“Baby?” Oscar’s voice broke as he stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. He reached for you immediately, pulling you into a crushing embrace and burying his face in your neck.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His grip on you tightened as a quiet sniffle escaped him, then warm tears soaked into your skin. “You have no reason to apologize,” he said, his voice cracking. “We hurt you. We betrayed your trust. You had every right to walk away.”

You shook your head, cupping his face as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, and full of regret. “I know. And we’ll talk about it later,” you said softly. “But you said you needed me, so I’m here.”

Oscar let out a shuddering breath, nodding as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling his tension ease ever so slightly. “Where’s Lando?”

Oscar exhaled shakily, stepping back to grab your bag. “In the game room. He hasn’t come out in days except to grab food. He won’t talk to me, won’t let me in. He’s blaming himself for everything. Saying he should’ve never gone, that you’ll never forgive us. He’s been reading all the comments calling him a piece of shit and liking them. It’s killing me to see him like this.”

Oscar’s voice broke again, and he turned his head away, inhaling sharply as his shoulders shook. “Baby,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. He looked back at you, his breath catching. “It’s so hard seeing him like this,” he admitted, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m not leaving you guys. I promise.”

Oscar’s eyes widened, the relief so palpable it nearly brought you to tears. “You’re not?”

“Would I be here if I was?” you teased softly, earning a faint smile from him.

Together, you walked to the game room. Standing in front of the door, you felt your stomach churn. This wasn’t just about you being hurt—it was about mending what felt irreparably broken. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a small, encouraging nod before knocking gently.

“Lan… can you open the door?” Oscar’s voice was soft but pleading.

A moment passed before Lando’s hoarse voice came through, thick with emotion. “Oscar, please. Just leave me alone.”

“Lando, baby, open the door. Please,” Oscar begged, his voice breaking.

Silence.

Your chest tightened as you exchanged a helpless look with Oscar. Summoning your courage, you pressed your palm against the door. “Lando, it’s me,” you called gently. “Please open the door.”

You heard fast footsteps, a click of the lock, and then the door creaked open, and Lando stood there, a shadow of himself. His normally bright eyes were red and swollen, his hair disheveled, and his face pale and gaunt. You barely had a chance to take him in before he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you tightly, his weight nearly sending you stumbling back.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw and trembling as he clung to you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I messed everything up.”

“Lando,” you whispered, holding him close as his sobs wracked his body. His legs gave out beneath him, and you followed him to the floor, cradling him as though he might shatter.

“I thought you’d never come back,” he gasped, his voice muffled against your chest. “I thought I lost you forever.”

“I’m here,” you reassured him, your voice soft but steady. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Oscar knelt down beside you, his hand resting gently on Lando’s back. “Lan, you’re not in this alone,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “We’re going to fix this. Together.”

Lando lifted his head slightly, his tear-streaked face filled with anguish. “It’s my fault,” he croaked, looking between you and Oscar. “I should’ve never gone, should’ve never let it get this far. I—I don’t deserve you. Either of you.”

“Don’t say that,” you said firmly, cupping his face in your hands. “Lando, we’ve all made mistakes, but we’re here now. And we’re going to figure it out. Together.”

“But I hurt you,” he whispered, his voice breaking again. “I hurt both of you. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was too late.”

Oscar’s hand slid from Lando’s back to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “We all messed up,” Oscar admitted quietly. “But you don’t have to carry this alone. We’re here, Lan. We’re not giving up on each other.”

Lando looked between the two of you, his lip trembling. “You mean that?”

“Of course we do,” you said softly. “We’re in a relationship. And we’re going to make this right.”

Oscar nodded, his own tears spilling over as he reached out to pull both of you into a hug. “You’re stuck with us, baby,” he said with a watery smile.

Lando let out a shaky laugh, his arms wrapping around both you and Oscar as his tears started to subside. “I don’t deserve you guys,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and self-doubt.

“You do. You deserve us, and you deserve every win, every point, every good thing that comes to you,” you said firmly, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. “And you’ll see that in time. But for now, just let us be here for you.”

Lando leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to your lips. It was soft and full of unspoken emotions—apologies, gratitude, and love. When he pulled back, Oscar tilted your face toward him, his lips brushing against yours in a similar kiss, gentle yet grounding.

Lando looked up at Oscar, “I’m sorry for ignoring you.” He said softly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to shut me out, ever.” Oscar leaned down pulling Lando into a kiss of their own.

Lando rested his head against your shoulder, and Oscar pressed himself close, the three of you tangling together on the floor. You shifted slightly, allowing them to settle between your legs, their weight comforting against you.

Lando’s voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“You won’t ever have to find out,” you promised, running your fingers through his curls as Oscar pressed a kiss to your temple.

The weeks that followed were slow and deliberate, each day a step toward rebuilding what had been shaken. You stayed in Monaco with your boys, carving out a space that felt like home amidst the turbulence. Lando was still fragile, his confidence bruised, but with time, love, and plenty of reassurance, you saw glimpses of the man he had been before.

You focused on the little things—quiet mornings spent curled up together, late-night drives to nowhere, and endless games in the living room. You encouraged Lando to get back on his sim and race again, even if it was just for fun. When he finally agreed, you and Oscar sat beside him, cheering him on as though it were a championship final.

Conversations were heavy at times, raw and vulnerable, but necessary. You talked about the incident, about boundaries and trust. You forgave them, truly, but healing was a process that required more than just words. It needed time, connection, and intentional effort.

Oscar was your steady anchor throughout, always ready with a gentle hand on your back or a soft smile when things felt too overwhelming. He, too, was working through his guilt, but his focus remained on supporting both you and Lando. Together, the three of you found your rhythm again, each day a little easier than the last.

During this time, you also grew closer to Alexandra and Rebecca. Your connection with them blossomed, built on shared experiences and mutual understanding. Alexandra had a knack for making you laugh when you needed it most, and Rebecca was a steady source of wisdom and calm.

One evening, Alexandra and Rebecca invited you and the boys to dinner at Carlos and Rebecca’s place, a small gathering with a few familiar faces: Charles and Alex, Max and Kelly, and little P.

The evening was warm and relaxed, the villa overlooking the glittering Monaco skyline. Rebecca greeted you at the door with a warm hug, while Carlos handed you a glass of sangria with a charming smile.

“Everyone’s out back,” Carlos said, motioning toward the patio.

You stepped outside to find Charles and Alex laughing at something Max was saying, while Kelly helped P set up a small tea party on the corner of the table. The little girl was dressed in a princess dress, her face lighting up when she spotted you.

“Hi!” P called out, waving enthusiastically. “Do you want to join my tea party?”

You knelt down beside her. “I’d love to,” you said, taking one of the tiny chairs she offered. Lando and Oscar followed, Lando immediately slipping into his goofy, playful persona to entertain P, who giggled at his antics.

Dinner was served family-style, with everyone gathered around the long wooden table. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing.

“So, Y/N,” Max started, a playful smirk on his face, “how are you handling these two?” He gestured toward Lando and Oscar.

“Barely,” you joked, earning laughs from the table. “But they’re worth it. Most of the time.”

Lando leaned over to whisper in your ear, his voice low and teasing. “Only most of the time?”

You grinned. “You have your moments.”

Alexandra and Rebecca chimed in, sharing stories about their own chaotic moments with Charles and Carlos, which earned exaggerated groans from the men.

“I’m not that bad,” Charles protested, though his grin gave him away.

“Sure you’re not,” Alex replied, rolling her eyes fondly.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself surrounded by a sense of warmth and belonging. Kelly and Max took turns coaxing P to eat her vegetables, while Lando and Charles got into a playful debate about racing strategies. Oscar sat quietly beside you, his hand resting on your knee, a small smile on his face as he watched the chaos unfold.

After dinner, you, Lando, and Oscar stayed behind to help clean up. Rebecca handed you a dish towel with a grateful smile. “You’ve been good for them,” she said softly, nodding toward your boys. “I can see it.”

You glanced at Lando and Oscar, who were bickering over who had to wash the pans. “They’ve been good for me, too,” you admitted.

By the time you returned home that night, the three of you were exhausted but content. Lando curled up against you on the couch, his head on your lap, while Oscar stretched out on the other side, his hand entwined with yours.

For the first time in weeks, everything felt steady, like you were finally finding your way back to each other. And in that moment, surrounded by the people you loved most, you knew you’d make it through—together.

By the time you returned home that night, the three of you were exhausted but content. Lando curled up against you on the couch, his head resting on your lap, while Oscar stretched out on the other side, his hand entwined with yours. The low hum of the television played in the background, but none of you were paying attention.

Lando shifted slightly, looking up at you with a soft, contemplative expression. “We’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice hesitant.

You raised an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerous.”

Oscar chuckled, but his smile was nervous as he sat up. “No, seriously. We’ve been talking, and… maybe it’s time we stop hiding this. Hiding us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You mean going public?”

Lando nodded, sitting up fully now, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing a great job keeping it a secret anyway. People are starting to notice how much time we spend together, and… I don’t want to keep pretending you’re just a friend. You’re so much more than that.”

Oscar reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We know it might be a lot, with the media and fans and everything, but we’ll handle it together. We just want to be honest about who we are and who we love.”

You looked between them, your chest tightening with emotion. “Are you sure? It’s going to change everything.”

Lando smiled softly. “We’re sure. We want this—you. And we don’t care who knows it.”

Before you could respond, Oscar changed the subject. “Actually, there’s one more thing we wanted to talk about.”

“Oh?”

Lando straightened up, his expression unusually serious. “After you graduate, we were thinking… maybe you could move in with us. Here, in Monaco.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. “Move in with you?”

Oscar nodded, his tone gentle but persuasive. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? You’ll be done with school, and being in a sports-centered place like Monaco could open up so many opportunities for you. Plus, we’d get to be together all the time.”

Lando jumped in, clearly excited now. “It’d be perfect! No more long-distance, no more packing bags every other week. You’d have your own space here, and we’d finally get to be a proper team—at home and everywhere else.”

They continued talking, each building on the other’s points, their excitement spilling over as they tried to convince you. But you couldn’t stop giggling, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably.

“Why are you laughing?” Lando asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You shook your head, still giggling. “Because if you two would’ve stopped talking five minutes ago, I would’ve said yes already!”

They both froze, blinking at you in surprise, before breaking into matching grins.

“Wait—so you’re saying yes?” Oscar asked, his voice hopeful.

“Yes, of course, I’m saying yes!” You laughed, pulling them both into a tight hug.

Lando whooped, lifting you slightly off the couch, while Oscar pressed a kiss to your temple.

“We’re going to make this amazing,” Lando promised, his eyes shining with excitement.

Oscar nodded, his smile soft and filled with love. “You won’t regret it.”

As they pulled you back down onto the couch, the three of you tangled together, your hearts full and your future bright, you couldn’t help but think that this—right here, with them—was exactly where you were meant to be.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x black!reader #lando norris fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris smut #f1 x driver!reader #oscar piastri x black!reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader

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