#its implied but its up to you to decide!!

[i9eto]

ᵎᵎ 𓏲 ❛ i want you to touch me の　masterlist 次 next

TAGS◝ nsfw, dub-con, somno, cunnilingus, slight dry humping, implied drugging, petnames, profanities, y/n calls caleb 'gege', sex without protection, mentions of impregnation, pwp, spoiler from the main story (chapter 4), mdni

PAIRING◝ mc or f!reader x caleb

SUMMARY◝ is it really appropriate to have a wet dream of your childhood friend?

NOTE◝ first time writing a slightly dark theme kinda nervous

it was a chilly night at linkon. you’d come home late at night every day ever since that explosion happened at your grandmother’s home. what’s the use of coming home early anymore? your gege was gone, and if it wasn’t for your current apartment being a sanctuary for all of the things he had ever given you — whether it was big or small, inanimate or animate, alive or dead — you kept it all. the entire place looked like a museum of you and him from all the years, and you’ve grown to feel suffocating staying in your apartment.

you couldn’t bear it but you can’t throw those gifts away either, so you try to stay away as often as possible. you’re mourning, you tell yourself. mourning, or refusing to move on, and let him pass peacefully?

you often thought that you’re selfish for this. but you also don’t like dwelling on the past too much. it makes you sad, it makes you regret; and nothing angers you more than regret.

you arrived at your apartment at the same time your little grandfather’s clock would ring as it hits midnight. you stopped by your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water, pausing just a second as you bent down to take your shoes off and tossing it somewhere in the dark before picking up the glass to finish it all in one go.

you don’t really bother putting your things where they belong; you toss your bag onto the shoe rack, but you would take your dirty socks off once you stepped into the living room. your jacket dropped to the floor, and you’d only realise how messy your apartment is once you reached your bed and noticed the freshly done laundry from last week and this week had taken a big space on your bed.

it didn’t bother you enough to get to work, so you fall asleep on top of the pile of clothing.

you haven’t dreamt in a long time, not since you lost him in that explosion. perhaps it’s because you missed him so much that you were now dreaming of him, you’d even welcome the idea of the ghost of him finally deciding on latching himself onto you after spending every day, for a couple of hours, sitting by his grave – sometimes blaming him for dying, sometimes telling him how you miss him.

you were lying on your stomach when you first fell asleep, and in this dream, you were in the same position as when you had fallen asleep. you feel large, much colder hands tracing your back with its big palm. one was much colder than the other, almost metal like. the pair of hands slowly traced the curve of your spine, raking your shirt up to the cool air. the hands continued to trace upwards, going separate ways to feel both of your arms.

“mm, mm…” you huffed in your sleep, the hands were ticklish because of the coldness. one hand, the colder one, pried itself between your fingers, pinning one of your arm down onto the bed. the other hand, was a little warmer. it gripped on your wrist, and in this dream, you could feel weight pressed against you, it was slightly uncomfortable, and your eyes threatened to open to wake you up from the strange dream you were currently having.

“shh, shh.” you were dreaming of a man, your brain was telling you. “you’re dreaming.” the man — or was it your own brain that was telling you? you can’t tell, so you just listened and you relaxed yourself. “good girl,” you feel a kiss against your hair, it was soothing. this man sounded so familiar.

“i missed you.” the man says as one hand – the one that was holding your wrist – slid towards your front. he gently caressed your collarbone with his fingers, going down to your breasts, he palmed it ever so softly. “gege?” you mumbled in your sleep, and the figure once again pressed against your back, “shh. shh, it’s just me, y/n. gege’s here.” he whispered, and your body relaxed. you didn’t notice nor feel that a single tear had slipped from your closed eyes, but he did.

leaning down, he kissed the tear away, then the stain it left on the edge of your eye. “i’m here.” he whispered gently, and your heartbeat calmed again. perhaps it was the sense of longing that you’ve ignored ever since the explosion. and this dream you were currently having was able to let your deepest thoughts roam free.

“i missed you.” he repeated, going down to kiss the part of your neck that was slightly exposed. “i’ll come back for you, y/n. but for now, i need you. can you give me what i want? can you give me what gege wants?” he asked, his words a whisper but his voice husky with need. “mm…” you hummed in agreement, or it was agreement enough for him.

his hand that had been touching your breasts, now perky and sensitive, moved further down to your abdomen. his hips grinded against the soft flesh of your ass. “i missed you.” he grew desperate with each grind, humping against you like a needy puppy.

he turned you around, your dress too bothersome for him so he’d just rip it off. he kissed your neck once more, biting onto your skin and sucking it roughly making you cry out a whine and leaving a love mark on your delicate skin.

he goes further down to your breasts, his hands pulling your bra down and his lips immediately latched onto your nipple, he flicked it with his cold tongue, and when you arched your back, he bit on it. he felt a sense of triumph when he earned a whine from you. he kissed the side of your breast, his free hand used to unbuckle and unzip his own pants.

“you would look so good if you were pregnant.” he said a low growl, “your breasts would constantly be round and perky and sensitive.” he moaned at the thought. his kisses grows more desperate as he imagined you all round carrying his babies. he watched as your hand absentmindedly moved towards the other breast, rubbing on the bud as if to tell him you felt neglected. “mm? you’ve always been a greedy little thing.” he groaned as he put his hand on top of yours, guiding you on touching yourself.

as he finally sprung his own cock free, he couldn’t help but groan. his dominant hand travelled down to pump his cock a few times, enough for pre-cum to ooze out, he used it as lube even though it was hardly enough. “you’re fully asleep, but you’re moaning.” he mumbled to himself, “are you dreaming of us, y/n?” he whispered in your ear, kissing the skin below your ear.

“dreaming of gege?” he added, his teeth grazed over the shell of your ear so you could hear him moaning, his hand squeezing his own cock at the thought of you having a wet dream for him. he grunted, a quiet fuck leaving his lips.

“touch me here.” he said as he brought your hand onto his cock, his hand guiding yours just as he did with your breast. “i want you to touch me, sweetheart.” he ordered so sweetly. you were still asleep in all of this, so your grip wasn’t as strong as he’d hoped. no matter, though. he can let it slide this once. after all, this won’t be the only time you’ll do this. this is merely the first of many.

“that’s right, baby. fuck, your hand is so soft, baby.” his voice was almost whiny as he relished in the way both his and your hands were pumping his cock. he glanced at your sleeping face, the way your cheeks was slightly flushed, and how breathless you’ve become. you liked this. a victorious smirk was plastered on his face.

he bent down to your core, it wasn’t nearly as wet as he’d hoped, but he only had a few minutes before he had to leave. he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your folds, as he dragged it up to your clit. he flicked it once, twice, with his tongue, then pressed his enveloped his lips on it, sucking on the bundle of nerves.

“hng… ah!” the loud gasp almost made him stop. almost. but he was quite confident on the drowsy medicine he had slipped into your glass moments ago. you won’t wake up — at least, the sensation of getting your pussy eaten wasn’t gonna be enough to wake you up.

his tongue slid back down to your folds, and his nose pressed against your clit. “hmm, fuck. you smell so good, honey.” he cursed, his tongue lapping at your walls like a starving man. he pushed his tongue between your pussy lips, his fingers going down to hold them apart. he didn’t mind if he had to fuck you with his tongue first, patience is virtue after all.

“you taste so good. you have no idea how long i’ve imagined you like this.” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine. his nose continuously poked against your clit, your eyebrows furrowed and your back arched again as you kept moaning in your sleep.

when he felt your walls tightening against his tongue, he pulled away from your cunt. “wha…” you whined in your sleep once more. he looked at you and chuckled lowly. “always so greedy.” he caressed your face.

he leaned down to your face, “this is gonna hurt a little, but i know you’d like it, won’t you, sweet girl?” he chuckled again, positioning his cock against your pussy, he rubbed it against you first, moaning your name as he did so. “ready?” he asked, his lips now wet with your slick went down to kiss your neck again. “oh,” he moaned as he pushed his tip into you. it seemed like he had underestimated you – you were squeezing him, as if you didn’t want to let him go.

“you feel so good, honey. oh… you’re clenching around my cock, baby. you like that?” he grunted, he gave you a few small thrusts first, before properly fucking you.

he looked down at you, his hand going back to rub one of your nipples, and he leaned towards your lips. he was inches apart, his breath ghosting against your skin. but alas, he pulled away. he can’t kiss you, not like this.

he looked down to watch the way his cock would slide in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your swollen clit, making you gush. “hah…” you panted in your sleep, sweat dripping down your forehead. “Gege…” you moaned just under your breath. a smirk formed on his lips, he took pride in the fact that even in your sleep, you’d imagine him fuck you.

“how long have you been having wet dreams about me, y/n?” he asked, but was met with no answers.

but his smile faded as soon as it came, as if a hint of dissatisfaction had come washing down on him. he pulled his cock out, leaving just the tip just barely kissing the entrance of your pussy, before slamming all of it at once. your body jolted in surprise and your eyes barely opened. “w-wh…” you mumbled as he gripped your chin. “it’s just a dream.” he whispered as he continued to slam his cock all the way in and all the way out. “you’re having a perverted dream about your childhood friend fucking you full of his cock, okay?” he said, and you nodded slightly, your eyelids too heavy to keep yourself awake.

“gege…” you murmured, he frowned as he eyes narrowed. the fingers that was rubbing on your clit pinched on it hard, watching as you writhed in pain. “don’t call me that anymore. i was never your brother.” he knew it was like talking to a wall, since you’re not actually awake, but he didn’t care.

he continued to thrust in and out of you, watching with satisfaction how your pussy had become red and swollen. he picked up the pace as he lifted one of your legs up to his shoulder, his lips kissing the skin of your inner thigh as he chased his own high.

the man gave himself a few more thrusts before pulling out. as the stimulation stopped, so did the desire for an orgasm. he wasn’t gonna come, no. not like this. good things comes to those who wait. and he will wait. he caressed your face, pulling his pants back up, he watched as you whined in your sleep, your pussy clenching around nothing. “i’ve gotta go, baby. we’ll meet again very soon.” he promised.

a few hours later, you finally woke up. the sun was already shining by the time you opened your eyes. your body felt a little sore but that was probably because you had been sleeping uncomfortably. you tried to recall what you dreamed of, and you felt a little guilty. you knew it wasn’t something you can’t control, but why would you have a wet dream about caleb? your deceased childhood friend. you thought of it as messed up, and you figured that you should probably visit his grave and apologise.

as you finally forced yourself out of bed, you frowned at the idea of having to clean your entire apartment, but you can’t live in this dumpster forever.

you straightened your shirt and walked towards your bathroom, but something felt off. were you really wearing this shirt to bed last night?

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN CAPRICORN

venus in capricorn is reserved in showing their feelings, but not for the lack of them – they’re just used to exercising self-control in order to protect themselves. this placement tends to be serious in their intentions, and expects the same from their partner.

bodyguard!mattheo riddle x rich girl!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, gunplay, dry humping, brat taming, employer x employee, degradation/praise, cursing

nav // event / more

"brat."

it was the word that mattheo used for you quite often, so much so that it started to lose its meaning. you couldn’t help yourself, and you didn’t really want to – it was too fun, riling your oh-so-serious bodyguard up, plus, it was just in your nature. and damn did he look hot all bothered…

you teeth sank into your bottom lip as his strong hand pinned you firmly to his lap, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip under your flimsy nightgown. mattheo watched you with an emotionless expression, yet you could see an underlying hint of desire in his eyes – over the last few months of him working for you, you had grown to notice the little signs, becoming too observant for your own good. his pupils were just a bit more dilated than usual, his breathing was just a little more shallow.

of course, you decided to use it to your advantage. you ground your hips on top of him, expecting the usual hardening around his crotch, and you did get it. except this time, you felt something else, something even harder than his cock.

mattheo raised an eyebrow, watching how your eyes widened at the realization.

"didn’t expect it?" he asked smoothly, yet you could swear you could hear amusement thinly woven into his voice. you shook your head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"you’re off for the day," you muttered, eyes flicking between his stoic face and down, between your bodies, where your inner thigh was pressed against his hipbone. he let out a small huff of air – was it irritation? was it that hint of amusement you managed to catch?

"i’m always on. you should know that by now.”

his free hand moved to the side, and moments later, your suspicions were confirmed – a gun. his gun, hidden somewhere behind the waistband of his pants, now dangling dangerously between his fingers in front of your face. the sight shouldn’t have been so,,, arousing.

"is it…?" you trailed off, somewhat scared to know the answer to your implied question.

"is it loaded?" mattheo prompted, and for the first time, a small smirk made the corner of his lips curl up. "wouldn’t you like to know…"

you very much would, actually, but for some reason, words evaded you at the moment. your tongue stuck out, and before you knew it, you were licking the barrel, cold and metallic, and for a moment, you thought you could taste gunpowder, but it was most likely just your colorful imagination.

"fuck,” mattheo breathed out, the sight in front of him making his hardened cock twitch between your thighs, straining against his pants. to relieve some tension, he gripped your hip tighter and started guiding it to grind against him. "this what you wanted, huh? the fucking gun? gods…"

you moaned, but this time it wasn’t one of those exaggerated moans you always used to tease him, no – this one was deep, genuine, as you felt yourself getting wetter and surely soaking the fabric of mattheo’s pants. he seemed to feel it, and it only heightened the state of his arousal. it was getting harder and harder not to snap, so in order to reestablish some sort of control over his reaction, he pushed the gun further into your mouth. your lips closed around the barrel, and the sensation of it was, for some godforsaken reason, the hottest thing you’d felt in a while.

"so fucking naughty, princess. who would’ve thought." mattheo groaned, his hips pushing up against yours as he felt the wetness starting to seep onto his aching length. "what if your daddy wants to review the cv footage later, huh? he’s gonna see his pretty little daughter behaving like a gun slut."

your eyes widened at the thought of your dad seeing exactly what you were doing right now, but deep inside your soul, you knew mattheo was bluffing. he’d be in as much trouble as you, if not more. it was a calming realization, but it did nothing to soothe the fire building up in your belly as you continued to grind against mattheo’s rock solid bulge.

"god fucking damn, princess. the dirtiest fucking slut i’ve ever seen." mattheo felt his composure slipping, which wasn’t exactly what he was aiming for. his hold on your hip grew painful, and he started moving the gun in and out of your mouth with an intensified pace. you eagerly took it, not in the right mind to think of the fact that it was wrong – supposed to be wrong, anyway. all you could do was feel, feel, feel.

"just like that, fuck… for being such a damn brat, you’re taking this gun so well," mattheo muttered in a low growl. he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of your clothed yet heated pussy sliding on his dick turning his usual mask of indifference into something he didn’t want to admit yet. "go on, princess. show me how bad you can really be."

and at that moment, you knew you’d be as bad as he wanted you to be.

[s-lorelei]

I personally feel like Harry Potter is one of those franchises that's been practically corrupted by its fandom.

The fandom should respect the author, but doesn’t.

The fandom has people in it who say:

"I don't trust JKR with her own Intellectual Property."

"She doesn't know anything about the Marauders. The world and characters belong to us now."

"She would just make all the Marauders straight, white, and cis." (Not everything has to be gay? Wtf)

It's HER story. None of you children (or adults with immature minds) have any right to say that she doesn't know her characters. If she hadn't written them in the first place, you'd have nothing to do, would you? There would be no wolfstar or jegulus or marauders era to begin with.

And you guys do understand that Regulus is fucking dead, right? James and Lily got married. Remus and Tonks had Teddy. Sirius was too focused on the delusion that he thought he got his best friend back (through Harry) to give a shit about Remus. Evan Rosier was never important to the plot. Lily is actually an important character. "Pandora" Lovegood doesn't exist, and, no, she isn't Evan's twin so stfu. Marlene McKinnon is mentioned once (and it's implied that she married a man). Y'all can't even get Dorcas Meadowes's name correct.

The amount of canon-divergence absurdity in fanon culture is appalling.

...

Name mention counter (in the books):

Marlene McKinnon: 1 (twice if you consider "the McKinnons" as a mention)

Pandora Lovegood: 0

Evan Rosier: 1

Dorcas Meadowes: 1

Grant Chapman: 0 (because he is an OC/self-insert)

Mary Macdonald: 1 (in a flashback)

...

Like- there is absolutely no miniscule amount of evidence that Wolfstar could've ever been anything other than old friends. I wish you guys could see that and stop making up plots and delusional headcanons. (And just because headcanons are what "you believe/think about a character" doesn't mean they don't have to be logical and actually fit into the canon story, so I don’t wanna hear it.) 🙄

And before you tell me "if you don't like it then don't read it"— I don't "read it." I don't read ATYD or Crimson Rivers or Art Heist or whatever other fics are out there that you've decided is canon now. I read the real story, y'know, the seven, very much canon, books. And I was gonna read ATYD, but once I found out how y'all treat it as the Holy Grail of the 1970s Wizarding World, I decided it wasn't my cup of tea because I want to read a fic that is canon-compliant, that doesn't push every hot character into a gay relationship, that doesn't have explicit sex, that doesn't have self-inserts..

Thanks for reading all this if you did.

(This is me venting because I hate so much of fanon and I'm about to crash out.)

If you don't agree or have nothing nice to say about this post, move along and kindly do not engage. Thank you.

[toadspondofwhimsy]

࿐ *ੈ✩ Breathing – Dean Winchester

SUMMARY: You’re severely hurt on a hunt and rather than wait and rely on medicine to do its job, Dean decides to take matters into his own hands. Inspired by the song Breathing by Yellowcard.  PAIRING: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader  WARNINGS: minimal violence, reader dying/implied death, swearing, no use of (y/n). WORD COUNT: ~1.6k  A/N: If you think I should add more warnings, feel free to let me know, just don’t be a dick about it. This one was kind of tough for me, I haven’t written something like this before, so any feedback is appreciated. Okay byeee I hope y’all enjoy :*   Divider Credit: me :)

The scream that was torn from your body was sickening to hear and for you, it meant pain. Both men whipped around, their eyes wide and crazed as they looked for the source. Dean knew instantly it was you, his eyes were on you just in time to see you go limp and crumble to the floor. He was a blur as he rushed to your side, quickly gathering you into his arms so he could check your injuries. Swiftly, Sam disposed of the threat with practiced ease; he sunk an angel blade into the thing that hurt his friend. 

When Dean positioned you into his arms, he cradled your head with a firm yet gentle hold. He let out a soft gasp and your name fell from his lips in a desperate cry. Your eyes were on him but only briefly as your eyelids felt like weighted blankets. You were feeling overcome with fear and most of all pain. The pain was overwhelming but sleep, now that was a sweet respite. A nice resting place was waiting for you, this you knew. If only you slept.

Dean shouted your name, shaking your body and gripping onto your shirt. His fingers wrinkled the fabric but you didn't mind. In fact, you didn't stir not one bit. The only indication to Dean that you were still alive, that you were still with him, is he could feel your breathing. Those soft labored breaths as your body struggled to keep itself alive.

He was so fucking scared. Scared he was going to lose you. Scared of the immense heart ache he would feel if that was to happen. Despite his catastrophic thinking he was alert, in tune to you. He feels his heart sinking like a wave as your breaths grow shallower. Dean is freaking the fuck out. He cannot lose you. He is so sure, so certain that he loves you. He can’t come up with one reason as to why he's kept that secret locked away behind his lips.

He knows he’s hurt you. God, all the things he’s done put you through. All the wreckless suicide missions, all the self-sacrificing he did for Sam, for Castiel, for you. All the times he avoided a proper goodbye with you. Now he can’t seem to remember if he’s ever given you a proper apology.

How could he be so stupid? so blind? so wrong? 

Every kiss he pulled you in, every drunken night that ended in splendor, every secret touch, and stolen glance, replayed in his mind. He felt immense guilt in using you, in toying with your feelings, in pretending you were nothing more than a hunting partner and an occasional good fuck. 

And now? He thought he would never get the chance to repair things with you. He'd never get to say I'm sorry, he’d never get to show you that he truly means it. 

He can feel his heart sinking in his chest. A pool of emotion released from him as a sob shook his body. His arms tightened around you, pulling you to his chest. Frantically he pressed his lips to the top of your head, your hair tickled his nose but he didn't notice or care. His cheeks were slick as he pleaded, “please, give me one more chance. Don’t leave. Not yet. Don't leave me.” 

Sam eased his foot down making contact with the floorboard at the sound of his brother's cries. It wasn't often that Dean showcased such raw emotion. Dean didn't have to say anything to Sam, didn't have to explain, because Sam knew his brother like the back of his hand. Sam knew all this time Dean had loved you. Sam's eyes darted to the rearview mirror so he could check on the scene unfolding in the backseat. His frown was deep as the worry dug its claws into his heart. Another death was not allowed, not on his watch, not his friend. Sam’s focus returned to the road as the needle on Baby's speedometer twitched, her engine roared as the vehicle pushed onward.

The sounds of the machines were not comforting to Dean, not one bit. To him it didn't matter that he could watch your vitals on the screen all night. He needed to be right beside you and that’s where he sat. He was exhausted with worry as he leaned back in his seat. He kept his eyes trained on you, making sure your chest continued to rise and fall with every shaky breath you drew in. He hated the sight of you in that bed, your hands were cold to the touch, the typical rosiness of your cheeks was gone, and an oxygen mask was strapped to your face. His eyes felt heavy but the sound of your breathing, shallow and labored kept him awake. 

Dean was never known for exemplary patience, in fact, he was known for the opposite. He felt like you should be awake by now. Quickly, he stood up and took long strides toward the door. Sam stepped back into the room, blocking Dean's exit, he gave Dean a quizzical look. 

“Where are you going?” Sam asked. He was unable to hide the suspicion from his tone.

“I need to do something, I need to help them, sam!” Dean responded a bit harshly. He could have been gentler in his tone, but if anyone understood the stress Dean was feeling in this moment, it was Sam. 

Sam gave Dean a sympathetic look that only worked to set his nerves even more on edge. Dean hated that damn look. 

“Dean, you’re not going to do something stupid. You think they would be happy with that?" Sam stated from his place blocking the exit. He wished he could say he was wholly concerned with you, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Sam knew if he lost his closest friend as well as his brother on the same day, he would be irreparably broken. 

“Actually, I think they’d be happy to still be alive!” Dean replied, practically shouting. 

Sam hushed him with what could only be described as mom face. 

“Really, Dean? Because you know I've been there,” Sam was yelling at his brother now. He was feeling frustrated with this all too familiar conversation. Sam was hurting too, he was scared too, but he wasn't going off to do something idiotic. Not yet, anyway, but Sam always had more faith in medicine than Dean did. 

“I’ve been stuck here with no way to save you after you pull one of these boneheaded stunts. You want to be better for them? Start now and sit back down. Be there when they wake up.” Sam argued further. 

Dean knew Sam was right and that angered him even more. He felt as if sitting around and waiting was accepting defeat. No, Dean didn't have to rely on some doctor to fix what he very well could on his own. Sam standing there, with that damn look on his face was getting under Dean’s skin far more than it should. He reeled back his arm and when he sent it forward, his fist cracked against Sam's jaw. Sam grunted and hunched over as his long fingers rubbed at the painful spot. Dean's fist connected again with Sam's head, this time knocking him out and sending him to the floor. Dean stepped over Sam's body and hurried out of the hospital. 

When Dean returned to the hospital, you were awake. The hospital bed was set to a slight incline so that you were upright but still relaxed. Sam was in the room with you, sitting by your right side and holding your hand. His thumb was rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles as you both anxiously awaited Dean’s return.

Dean hurried over to your left side, his eyes were cast downward, avoiding making contact with either you or Sam. Your brows furrowed as you looked at the man you begrudgingly love. You had this gut feeling he was guilty. 

The frown you once held twisted on your face, morphing into something more angry, as his dirt stained hand reached out for your own. Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of dirt caked under his nails. Your harsh look bore into his eyes as he still refused to look at you. 

“What did you do?” You asked, your voice shaky and cracking as it rose.

“What the fuck did you do?” Now you were screaming at him, allowing the frustration and anger to not only bubble over, but spill out. 

Dean remained silent, the lump in his throat bobbing as he swallowed around it. The emotion was thick in his throat and chest. He was unable to speak, unable to tell the truth, not right now at least.

“Dean.” Sam called out, the sound of his voice so deep it rattled in his chest. 

When Dean still didn’t answer. You felt like you were losing your mind. Why did he always do this shit? 

“What the fuck did you do?” You asked again, tearing at your throat with how loud you yelled. “Motherfucker, answer me!” You sobbed. 

Sam stood up and extended his arm to grab Dean's shoulder. He gave him a hard shake, “hey! Dean. What did you do?” 

As if Sam pulled Dean out of his guilt induced trance, he finally looked at you. His glassy eyes met yours. He could hear your breathing, heavy and shaky as sobs wracked your chest. He could feel his heart sinking like a wave. He knew he hurt you again, but he also knew you’d get over it, like you always did.

After all, he did it for you, right? He sacrificed himself so you could live.

Despite that, he couldn't shake the feeling that as you looked at him with all too familiar anger, the only love he ever knew he threw it all away.

[fernfie]

best friends

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[cuppajj]

I made an x reader one shot for a friend and wanted to share it! I’m not confident in my writing to post it haha but I wanted you see anyway! ^^” but I hope you like it despite how ass my grammar is LMAO

You were in the Vanilla kingdom, tucked away in the palace. It was a bright sunny day, the wind calm with a pleasant breeze to break the heat of the morning sun. You awoke to the scent of vanilla, strong as it always was in this growing ‘kingdom’- at least that’s what you call it. Speaking of he, Saint Vanilla wasn’t present in the room. You shifted in the sheets of your bed, the scent of vanilla still lingering so he likely had checked in on you before leaving. Likely for morning sermon. You sighed as you took in the moment of peace you’ve been granted. It’s been rather hard staying in the vanilla kingdom, you missed home.. you missed having alone time. You could tell, that despite being physically alone, you were still being watched. The eyes the of the vanilla orchids always following you, even in your shared living space.

You were seized on a morning such as this one, the Saint taking great interest in you. You had spoken with him as Pure Vanilla, considered him a close friend even… those feelings must have carried over when he became a beast. He didn’t purify you on the spot. Instead, he opted to save you for last. You remembered it clearly.

The benevolent Saint Vanilla had you cornered in your own home, his lambs standing at the front doors, windows blocked with similar forces. His arms outstretched like a best friend member reuniting with you… except he wasn’t your dear friend anymore. He was someone else now- the sweet man you knew for years twisted into some.. beast. He took a step closer. The air tensing as you stared at his hands, his eyes calm despite the ever flowing tears. Until he finally spoke.

“Please forgive me, Bluebird.. for my soul is tainted with greed and selfishness. Your beautiful heart and mind deserve the freedom and safety of purification and as much as I know that, I cannot bring myself to go forward with your salvation.” He cooed softly, like how you would reassure a stray animal into approaching you. In a way, he sort of was. You pressed your back into the corner you sought protection in with no where else to go but to him. “I am afraid I cannot rescue you yet… but do not fret. Instead, you shall have the greatest honor of all, should you stay by my side. You shall witness my ascension, my deliverance as I rescue all of Earthbread!” His smile grew a touch warm as he finally closed the space between you, his arms wrapped around you now. He was warm… his robes of silk dances on your trembling skin. Despite the danger you faced, you were oddly.. calmed by his embrace. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to hug him back you were too terrified out of your mind to move- after all one wrong motion and you were as good as the dust that lingered on your shelving. He spoke up once more, “I hope you can forgive me and my selfish soul. I do promise to rescue you from this world one day.. you’ll be mine in this world and the next… I promise.” You could feel his tears stain your shoulder, but you refused to be fooled by such crocodile tears. He’s ‘purified’ entire civilizations- he was a beast but you were his lamb.

So against better judgment, you stayed in that bed, ever since that faithful day you aimed to change his views one step at a time and mend the broken man he’d become. Perhaps you can save the world from his ever gleaming kindness through peace. Though, as you reminisced and contemplated, the savior himself entered the room after sermon. Ah right… you slept through that. Though he was never upset, even now all he ever wore was a soft, welcoming smile.

“Ah. Good morning, little lamb.” He chuckled, walking over to your side of the bed and petting your hair. You on the other hand sat up finally after bed rotting and looked up at him, a smile on your face to match his. “Heh.. Good morning. Sorry I slept through another one of your… meetings.” You always hated calling them sermons despite what the lambs say. It felt too cultish- you were still denial that’s what this was. “Oh, don’t worry your little head about it, orchid.. you need your sleep to stay as strong as always.” If you didn’t know any better, he was the gentlest and kindest soul ever. You wish that he was… “Thanks.. you’re always so understanding.” You sighed in minor relief, it’s not like you expected him to upset about it after all- he never really experienced anger like that as far as you knew. “How can I not be? Every soul is bound to make mistakes. It’s merely the nature of it. If getting extra sleep is what aids you in your strength and safety then so be it..”, He responded. As you two had your conversation, the Saint had found your cheeks and gently played with them. Holding your face his hands, gently massaging, and over all just being as physically affectionate as he usually was. His hands were usually used for killing so you theorized that he enjoyed having someone to hold without the need for them to turn to dust. Even if he believed it was a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of the soul it must be nice to have something- someone tangible. “Now then,” He spoke up, “Why don’t we get up and out of bed? We have a beautiful day ahead of us and I think a walk would do you some good, my little flower.”

✨

[tiredpacdad]

most exhausting hospital trip ever

[tacagen]

dont know whether zixx is a bishop clone or not? a 100% accurate test: put a wedding in front of him and see what he does.

[raptureshots]

happy pride month, Frank Fontaine doodle upon ye

[jonathanbyersphd]

This whole "I didn't see the heavily implied thing on my screen so it didn't happen" trend in fandom spaces rn has gotten so irritating

[astranauticus]

finally put together a sheet for (some of) my ocs..... skjfahksjhfk

anyway please send me asks about them (and penny's work partner i don't have a design for yet) and i will try my best to answer 👍

[randomwriteronline]

Perditus grunted a little as he adjusted his leg while laying down against the rock. It was a pleasant day, all things considered: the sun was warm without being smoldering, the winds were strong but not as harsh as usual, and he had something to make the pain a little more bearable.

With his eyes shut he fished a flint lighter and a medicinal sghitt out of the pouch under his thigh armor.

He didn't bother looking as he heard footsteps approach quickly; medication stuck between his teeth, he clicked lazily until he caught the telltale crackle of papery tissue catching fire, took the longest, deepest inhale he could, soaking in the acrid taste and familiar burn in the back of his head, and let an enormous cloud of septic-smelling smoke blow out of his mouth with a growling sigh.

His fellow debtor sat beside him nervously, scanning the horizon.

"Any news?" he asked.

"I was going to ask you," the Glatorian replied.

"None, then."

"None."

Hard nails tapped far too quickly against the rock.

Perditus took another drag. The numbing effect was starting to take hold of his anguishing limb.

"Do you think it'll be soon?" Atakus asked.

The Tapyri exhaled: "Maybe."

"Yes or no?"

"Maybe, I said."

"Maybe means nothing," the other said, glaring at him with his typical nervous anger, the fact that the larger being still wasn't looking at him inconsequential: "Will it be soon, yes or no?"

A shrug: "Probably, yes."

"You think?"

"Unless he wants to observe these freaks of nature do their merry little dance in a new environment for a while. But I'll bet a guy like him has already watched them long enough to get bored by now."

Another pause.

The hard nails were now scratching at the stone.

Another long drag and a puff of smoke.

"Do you think he'll kill us before or after the plan's done?"

"Who knows," Perditus answered lazily. He reclined his head to better bask in the sun. "Before would be a little annoying. For us, of course, he wouldn't care if we never saw what all this thankless work has been for. But then again we're his cannon fodder - maybe he'll wait till he has no need even for that."

He played with his sghitt, turning it between his fingers.

The knowledge that his eventual instantaneous murder would be inevitable had slowly but surely numbed him to the very same fact across the span of the many, interminable centuries that had passed since the day he'd started wracking up this blasted debt, and his only request (which he knew would never be taken into consideration) was to be allowed to die slowly, painfully, so that he could at least feel the life leave his body properly; but Atakus had never managed to make peace with the horror of their shared fate, and now that the moment was drawing near he was every day a little closer to losing his mind completely to the horror of his situation.

Frankly he was surprised the Potori had lived this long, with as anxious a disposition as he had. He'd always imagined he'd get out of his shackles with a stroke.

And yet here they both were.

Awaiting the second coming of a cruel god.

And while entire species were about to be massacred into heaps of melting, wailing scraps any second or day or month now, they were sitting against a rock under a pleasantly warm sun bathing in its light.

He could hear the Agori's irregular breath become louder.

"How's your leg?" Atakus asked in a fruitless attempt at changing the course of his spiraling thoughts.

"Hurts as usual." Perditus replied. "How's your heart?"

"Beating too fast," the Potori answered, "As usual."

The Glatorian's hand leaned over to the smaller being, offering the sghitt between his index and middle: "Take as many as you need."

The medicine was taken from his fingers by significantly shakier ones. He listened to the air slither with a long hiss into Atakus's lungs for the first time; the second was a little longer, a little less frantic, followed by a loud sigh; the third time was slow and deliberate, finally a little more at ease.

He listened to the sound of Skrall armor scraping against stone as the Agori laid back against the warm rock with him. A smaller hand placed the medication back in his palm, and he hummed gratefully before taking another drag himself.

The wind picked up slightly and dragged the smoke away from them.

He opened his eyes blearily, squinting in the sun.

Such a nice day.

Something far, far away, up in the clear sky, exploded. He saw the burst, a blot of bright hot color tearing apart the stratosphere, and long lines of white and faint red as pieces of whatever that was tried to land on Spherus Magna; but the destroyed body was barely above the size of a dot from where he was, and its meteors shriveled up into dust before coming anywhere close to the highest point available for them to strike, and in the end nothing of whatever tragedy had just transpired mattered at all.

The Glatorian hummed.

"Did something happen?" Atakus asked, eyes closed.

"No," his companion reassured him. "Relax."

The Potori did not respond, and got a little more comfortable.

Perditus glanced at him.

Maybe it made sense - he mused for a second, a second only - for Velika, of all cruel, paradoxical beings, to one day have complete and total control over this cruel, paradoxical world.

[moonstandardtime]

i like to imagine that all my chatfics are in the same extended universe. what this implies im not sure

[immortalsins]

ough the way my friend in my house was insisting that it's best to go to a beach in another city along the coast (to celebrate another friend's birthday) but five of us could go in her car and one would have to take the (expensive, long) train alone (with beach stuff), instead of just going to the smaller but closer beach that we can all get to on the bus together. she stood there and said 'we'll get to the beach quicker in my car than all on the bus' ok five of us will. and the other will not. but that doesn't matter to her

[formula-fun]

Whenever people debate whether Charles should leave Ferrari, it's like, do you even believe in romance???

people will wax poetic about the narrative and then say he should leave in the same breath. If you want that then what's the narrative? if you don't believe in the world it would be stupid to paint it!!! if you dont believe in god, then who are you talking to ???? like