#king dean imagine

[unhinged-pickle-juice]

Love thinking about Dean Winchester from generic demons or angels’ perspective

Not only did he and his brother completely dismantle the apocalypse, but Dean had the King of Hell wrapped around his finger so bad that he could regularly sock Crowley in the face and receive zero consequences

And for the Angels, Dean is the sole reason why one of their most loyal warriors committed Angel genocide, and to top it off, Dean then has no qualms telling off God

The rumors have got to be off the charts

[ardentpoop]

I’d missed bullying jensen 💖

[liamgallaghermpreg]

My Riverdale rewatch is hitting so differently ever since I discovered the Betty Cooper < – > Sam Winchester connection

[jeezypetes]

The way susanna is so horrifically (racistly) abused and neglected by the narrative and by king himself… and yet she’s the only one who gets a happy ending…. Its so lame and too little too late and yet…. I crey every time

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Omens

Arkasha Stevenson: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the first omen Stevenson: it's about a plot to breed the antichrist King: wait this sounds familiar Stevenson: yeah it's based on The Omen King: no that's not it

King: wait! i've got it! King: this is totally ripping off Good Omens! King: it's the same set up! Lovecraft: you're right! even the name is similar! Barker: wow, i hope someone gets fired for THAT blunder

King: neil! Neil! did you know that the omen is ripping off your book? Neil Gaiman: steve, good omens is a parody of the omen King: King: what Gaiman: i mean, even the name is similar Gaiman: that should have been a clue

Gaiman: you must understand, steve, that once the omen was the biggest thing in horror Gaiman: we believed its grip on man's imagination would last the ages! But alas... it is forgotten! Gaiman: forgotten like the fading filaments of a dream in the morning light! King: oh ok

Gaiman: now, like the great ozymandias,king of kings, memory of the omen has scattered to the howling winds of the glittering desert of oblivion Gaiman: and like prometheus the titan of old my torment knows no bounds Koontz: neil! did you know the first omen ripped off your book?

Gaiman: no young dean for you see the omen actually predates good omens Koontz: huh? but it just came out! Gaiman: no see the original omen came our before the good omens book Koontz: original omen? book? Koontz: i don't understand

Mary Shelley: sup fuckers Shelley: so neil i hear they ripped off your book Gaiman: no i Shelley: i'd be real pissed if someone ripped off my book Gaiman: they didn't Shelley: i'd give em one of these [pantomimes shivving]

Gaiman: please! no one ripped off good omens Barker: oh they definitely ripped off good omens Poe: seems pretty obvious, yeah Gaiman: edgar! he's just stirring up shit! Gaiman: you know that! Gaiman: why are you believing him now? Poe: no he's right, it's an open and shut case

Neil Gaiman: it's not a rip off! good omens was literally an omen parody! Gaiman: if you won't believe me, ask terry! Terry Pratchett: hey is anyone hungry? i could really go for some soup right now

[shanastoryteller]

a continuation of 1

Dean doesn’t sleep.

He spends the night with a bottle of Jack and a crowbar, tearing into junker cars that were never going to run again anyway. Bobby leaves him to it, maybe sleeping, maybe not. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

Casey sits there on the roof of a rusty beetle, legs crossed and leaning back on her hands as she watches him. He does his best to ignore her, but it becomes impossible around dawn when his Jack goes missing and he sees her tipping her head back to swallow it down. “Get your own.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” she says, licking the whiskey from her lips.

He snarls, “Fuck off. You’re not my damned babysitter.”

She laughs, not mocking, not cruel, but like she finds what he’s said to be genuinely funny. “That’s exactly what I am. I don’t think Samuel will be too pleased with me if I let you die of alcohol poisoning.”

The crowbar he’s been swinging for hours suddenly feels too heavy and he lets it drop, instead running a hand through his hair. He thinks the moisture there is sweat. It probably is, otherwise Casey would have had something to say about it. “And what? You do what he says or he does to you what he did to Lilith?”

“Lilith wished to bring about the end of the world,” she says, “and, more importantly, the end of you.” He shudders, rebelling against her words even after being confronted with the truth of them. This is because of him. Sammy did this to save him. He’d rather be in hell. “Killing her like he did was for Ruby’s benefit, but he was never going to let her live.”

“So he’ll make your death quick then,” he says.

“If I fail in my duty to protect you, I imagine my death will be slow and cruel,” she says. “But I’m not doing this because I’m afraid of Samuel.”

“Right,” he says, lips twisting. “Carrot, not stick. Your lover will be returned to you if you’re a good little soldier.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not a soldier and Samuel is not a general.”

He wishes he was drunker for this conversation. Despite Casey’s words, he’s basically sober, too long between drinks, too long spent sweating it out in his rage. “I don’t understand.”

“Samuel is my king,” she says gently, reverently, “and I am his subject. If he calls on me to be a soldier, then I shall. If he calls on me to be a jester, then I shall.”

He wants to laugh, but his throat is too dry and she has his dam whiskey. “So, what? You’re just going to hang around watching me all the time? That’s perverted.”

Casey tilts her head to the side, spreading her legs and licking her bottom lip. “We could make it perverted, if you like.”

She’s hot, but revulsion rolls through him. “And if Sam called on you to be a whore, you’d be that too then? What would your lover have to say about that?”

“We’ve been together a long time. Exclusivity loses its shine after a while. We are demons, after all.” She sighs, shifting until she’s leaning forward, elbows on her knees and a look on her face that he almost believes is sincere. “You know better than most how cheap sex can be. If Samuel wished for me to use my body in that manner, I would not object. But it’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like then?” he snaps. “Casey, I swear to god, I’m going to fucking lose it. This is �� this is just–”

He can’t even finish. His baby brother is leading the demons, just like that yellow eyed bastard always wanted. They’re calling him king.

He tore apart Lilith like it was nothing. Ruby had told him there was no way out of his deal, but Dean wonders if maybe she’d just given up on getting Sam to wear the crown. Or if maybe his deal is still in place, still perfectly valid, only Sam’s not letting anyone collect.

“My orders aren’t that specific,” she tells him. “That’s sort of the point. You want to take a roll in the sheets? Sure. You want a hunting partner? Having a demon as back up comes with perks. You want to retire to some cabin and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist? I’ll take up knitting. Samuel could have ordered any of his demons to protect you, but he picked me. He didn’t just want to give you a bodyguard. He hoped that we could be friends.”

He doesn’t want a friend. “I want my brother.”

Casey softens. “He knows that. So does he. That’s why he couldn’t let you die. You get that, don’t you Dean? You made a deal with the devil first.”

Dean presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Everything he does ends up hurting someone he loves.

~

When he stumbles into the kitchen the next morning – or early afternoon, technically – Bobby is drinking a beer and staring at Casey, who’s seated across from him with four different boxes of sugary cereal in front of her and a jug of milk. Bobby’s eyes flicker over to him. “Someone went grocery shopping.”

“Where’d you get the money?” Dean asks and immediately regrets it. She obviously just stole it.

“Your wallet,” she says. Bitch. “Eating is fun. We didn’t have these when I was human. Want a bowl?”

“What the hell,” he says, collapsing down in front of her. She huffs, but gets up to get him a bowl and spoon, dropping it in front of him. The box of Lucky Charms makes his stomach twinge, so he settles for Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He says to Bobby, “You’re just letting her stay here?”

He shrugs. “It’s not like I can get rid of her, thanks to Sam. Besides. She bought beer.”

Technically, Dean bought beer. “Okay, that’s another thing,” he points at her with his spoon. “What’s with this whole sacrament thing? Is that how Sam’s getting demons on his side, making them immune to exorcisms and shit?”

He hopes not. The last thing they need is a hoard of supercharged demons, even if they’re answering to his brother.

She wrinkles her nose. “Of course not. Many of us believe. Others are simply interested in picking the winning side and chose correctly. Those who followed Lilith did so because they believed Samuel to be unworthy, but with her death they’ll know better. They’ll bow to him. Or die.”

“What about Ruby?” he asks.

“Credit where credit is due,” she says stiffly. It occurs to Dean that Casey doesn’t like Ruby and feels just a little bit of fondness for her because of it. “She realized the truth first. Probably because she used to be loyal to Lilith. It’s almost ironic. She is to Sam what Lilith was to Lucifer.”

Bobby shares an irritated glance with him. It’s not that Casey isn’t being forthcoming, it’s just that half of what she says doesn’t make any sense. “I was actually talking about the whole sacrament thing.”

She straightens, face alighting with a smug sort of pride. “No, Ruby hasn’t taken the sacrament. Samuel has only offered it to me.”

“So that you could protect Dean without being sent back to hell,” Bobby says. She nods.

He rubs a hand over his face. “I still don’t get how drinking my brother’s blood did jack shit.”

“I’m purified,” she says, then takes a large bite of her cereal.

Dean’s just now noticing that she’s mixed all four cereals into one bowl instead of eating them sequentially, which is the most demonic behavior she’s shown so far.

Apparently this is going to take a while.

[just-a-ghost00]

Who is your divine counterpart?

Please if you know the original artist who made these images, can you tell me so I can quote them. Thank you <3

Group 1

Celebrity look alikes - Mamamoo's Hwasa, BTS Suga, Joe Anoa'i aka Roman Reigns, Jonathan Good aka Dean Ambrose / Jon Moxley

Let me tell you group 1, the one thing all these people have in common : they are absolute dorks and I love them to death. To analyze this a bit further, you will notice that there are more masculine figures than feminine. Though Suga is pretty balanced in both energies. Hwasa as well can be pretty masculine in her own way. They also have quite long hair, especially the guys. All of them have rather dark hair and dark eyes. Even if Jon's hair can be a bit lighter and his eyes are somewhat blue, they tend to look dark as well. We have different cultural backgrounds being represented : Samoa for Joe, South Korea for Hwasa and Suga and Ohio for Jon. All of them are quite athletic and a little shy around strangers. However with the ones they love they go all out. So those could be traits of your person. Let's investigate further. Most of them are mutable signs (Suga Pisces, Roman Gemini, Dean Sagittarius).

Physical traits - Hierophant, Magician, King of pentacles

One thing that is striking about their appearance is how strong and trustworthy they look. They have a regal air to them that intimidates people. They appear as quite closed off upon first sight. They also look smart and very attractive. There's a lot of Venusian qualities to this person. They dress well, they smell good, they are naturally beautiful but they also take really good care of their body. They have a strong body structure. The feminines tend to be curvy. The masculines tend to have broad shoulders and defined arms. Physically, they give off very serious vibes. They may look uptight or have that so called RBF (though I don't like that term that much). All these cards together make me think that they look unapproachable and that they would hex the shit out of you if you ever cross them. Think of Minerva McGonagall.

Personality traits - The Explorer, The revolutionary, Get curious

Your counterpart is someone that is very open minded and curious. They have a thirst for knowledge and like to challenge themselves. They are incredibly passionate and bold, self confident, adventurous. They tend to follow their inner compass and morals even though it may get them in trouble. They are not afraid of being criticized or being alone. They are ambitious and they know the path to success can be a lonely road. They are a rebel at heart and a free spirit. They might not be as much into traditions as other people in their family or in their business field. This person likes to innovate and go into unknown territories. Differences do not scare them. They can get along with anyone as long as they have a heart and an open mind. They like to create, to find new ways to do things. They are a natural born leader. They can be stubborn, sometimes arrogant or hard to deal with. They have strong morals and tend to be set in their ways. When they have an idea in mind, they are unstoppable. They have a broad imagination, a knack for charming and talking their way out of situations. They can be a bit kinky. They are willing to shift their perspective in order to understand people better. They can be pretty understanding and adaptable.

Possible jobs / hobbies - Strength, Reclaim, White Numen, Underworld, King of pentacles, The Sage

Your counterpart could work in any job requiring strength, creativity, stability, patience and resourcefulness, a certain degree of competitive spirit. So think about fitness, professional level sports, being a member of a big company, being an artist, working freelance in any field. Looking at the tarot cards it does give me the feeling that this person is working alone most of the time. They have a lot of control over their career and the direction they want to go in. So if they work in a company, they would most definitely occupy an important position. This person likes to fight. But their fight seems to be more against their own demons. They enjoy going to the gym, taking care of their body, improving their health and spirituality. They like to learn especially if it can benefit their career in any way. They are the type to pick up a new skill because it would benefit a project and avoid implying other people. They take pride in doing things on their own. This person could be into martial arts /combat sports like boxing, wrestling, taekwondo, judo, karate and so on. They could be a teacher. If not, I get a feeling that they are often looked up to by their peers. This person could have two jobs : one they do publicly/during day and one that is more private / during night. They take interest in unconventional forms of creativity or occupations, things that may be seen as shady / dark by most people. It could be occult arts, horror movies, hardcore porn and stuff like that.

Letters and confirmation signs : A I O G B B K G E O P X W L H -> leo, boogie, pookie, bio(logy), geo(graphy), wale, Hola, Ali, babe, Babi, Kobe, whole, egg, Exo, box, boob, big, philo(sophy), Phil, Paolo, hope, gage, phobia, book, pale, Paige, page, pole, beg, bake, peak, beak, gig

Group 2

Celebrity look alikes - Liv Tyler as Arwen, Hwasa, Jessi and Kai from GazettE

Okay let's analyze what we got here. Many of these celebrities are of Asian descent. They are mostly feminine. We can note a common thread in the fact that all of them have rather long hair and very intense gaze. All of these celebrities are intense people that are not afraid to go after their dreams and to speak their mind. The feminines tend to have very full and beautiful lips. All of them have a very alluring aura. For those of you who might not know all of these celebrities, we have from left to right and top to bottom : Liv Tyler who played Arwen in LOTR, Mamamoo's Hwasa, Kpop solo artist Jessi and Kai, drummer of the Visual Kei band GazettE. Most of these celebrities are artists and they are fixed signs (Hwasa Leo, Jessi Aquarius, Kai Scorpio).

Physical traits - 3 of cups, Queen of cups, 9 of cups

This person is very feminine in their appearance, soft, flowy, welcoming. They appear as very nurturing. They have a motherlike presence to them that instantly makes people at ease. They may look aloof or dreamy. They are pretty cheerful and optimistic. So they probably are the kind to be smiling a lot. They have sparkles in their eyes and a very childlike look to them. So round cheeks, very bright, big and round eyes. They could be a bit petite. They are more on the curvier side. They could like to wear hats or head bands and stuff like that. Jewelry is also a key feature of their look. They tend to wear oversized cloathes or at least comfortable clothes. They like to feel good in their shoes so they would wear clothes that makes them feel the best first, even if it might shock people. Think about Hwasa and her "no bra scandal". In many ways this person could look like a doll to others. They appear as very kind and friendly. There is something about their appearance that is very pure and sweet. So they would prefer simple clothes over classy clothes, or maybe they like to dress like the younger generations. They basically go with the flow. They could have a very particular way of walking. One that makes them look like they could slither their way through things. They are very flexible and they have a lot of meat.

Personality traits - Get curious, destruction, trust

This person is really curious and open minded, they have a happy go lucky type energy but their mind can often times get the best of them. They may tend to compare themselves to others a lot or to overthink. They may struggle with mental health issues. They are a trust worthy peron and they are also faithful. They like to learn and be mentally stimulated, as it keeps their mind busy. This person can be very observant and smart. They have very strong transformative abilities. Though they know a lot of lows, they always find a way to come back stronger and make the best out of any challenge they are going through. They are incredibly resilient and strong minded. They are very opinionated.

Jobs and hobbies - Black Numen, The Observer, Strength, The Wildling, Lovers, Power

Your counterpart's job involves transmuting knowledge, resilience, communication and helping people find their truth. So this could be teaching, coaching, anything related to spirituality or psychology. This person is definitely into divination arts such as chiromancy, tarot, palm reading. They could be into martial arts and reading. Singing could also be something that they enjoy. That or flirting lmao They love to talk. Maybe they have a podcast or something. They are pretty creative so really it could be anything. They like to dig deep and investigate. So they might enjoy TV series about crimes or psychology, podcasts that are empowering. They may enjoy working out for some. But I have a feeling like for some, intimacy could be a way for this person to relax. They view bedroom activities as a hobby lmao

Letters and confirmation signs :

O D A B L Y V W M V G G Z Y C -> YMCA, yoga, Yoda, bald, Zac, May, vocal, wavy, God, gay, BL, Cody, Maggy, dog, doggy

Group 3

Celebrity look alikes - Stray Kids Seo Changbin, Jonathan Good aka Dean Ambrose, Mark Calaway aka The Undertaker, Kate Beckinsale as Anna Valerius

These people are super cheeky. They may be very intimidating (I mean we got The Undertaker here) but they are huge softies. All of them are rather masculine in their energy. All of them have hair that tends to get wavy. We are looking at people who have rather dark hair. Some of them have dark grey/green eyes. No matter the eye color they tend to have a fierce gaze and dress in darker colors. All of them are fit and quite tall. They have a strong body and a strong mindset. They tend to be lone wolves and have a hard time asking for help. They would do anything for the people they love. All of them are fire signs (Kate and Changbin are Leos, Jon is a Sagittarius and Mark is an Aries). All of them have strong morals and don't hesitate to speak their truth.

Physical traits - The Sun, 2 of swords, 4 of wands

They have freckles and their skin tends to be tanned. Their skin is glowy. They have a balanced body figure and are pretty agile. They look sturdy, strong, reliable. People feel at home next to them. So they can definitely have big arms that give the best cuddles, a very comfortable chest to lay your head on. They appear very outgoing and bright. They look like they shine. They are definitely attractive. Their beauty is one that is popular, conventional, a bit trendy. So in terms of fashion, this person would follow the trends of people their age or people of the same culture. Their fashion style can also be quite versatile. They look like they are husband/wife material. What is and isn't husband/wife material varies on people. But usually these terms are used for someone that looks like they would make you feel safe and loved, would take good care of you and match your expectations of a partner. So this person definitely appears as trustworthy.

Personality traits - Manifest, The Alchemist, Movement

Your counterpart is horny most of the time. They have a lot of drive and passion. They are a good manifestor and a bit of a trickster. They can turn anything to gold. They are very crafty and good with their hands. They are quite stubborn but also resilient. They are very adaptable and can handle difficult situations pretty well. They are not afraid of challenges and to try their hands on different things. They are very skilled and witty. They're also very smart and have a lot of healing abilities. Since they've been through a lot, they can spot negative patterns pretty well and find creative ways to counter them. They tend to be harsh on themselves. They have a lot of venom that they tend to repress. This person is likely to have anger issues. They can't stay still. Their mind is constantly working. They can anticipate a lot of things and see into the future. They can take a new idea and make it fit to their own style, sometimes making it ten times better than the original one. They have a very sexy personality. People tend to be drawn to their mind.

Jobs and hobbies - page of pentacles, surrender, knight of pentacles, reclaim, 3 of pentacles, the void

I definitely see this person sharing their knowledge with others and helping younger people reach their goals. They could also be attending college. Some of them may be involved in spiritual and religious practices. They could be spending a lot of time giving to their community, doing humanitarian work, going to Church or any place of cult. For some of you, your counterpart may have decided to change their career and gave up their position to go back to school. They could also be into anything that is related to the body, appearances, learning and sharing. So fitness, modeling, dancing. They could be into meditation or just spending time in nature, far from people to recharge their batteries. They could be into hunting, fishing, camping, gardening, farming. This person may be going through a spiritual awakening and leaving behind hold habits or patterns to live a healthier life. So if they were struggling with addictions or their body image, for instance, they've decided to heal that part of themself and work on it. They could also be a farmer for some of you.

Letters and confirmation signs :

Y G R H E C B P I F A R S L E -> Paris, Fabrice, chase, cars, bars, lace, years, sale, RBF, fly, air, rice, chief, gears, biceps, abs, selfie, selca, fears, far, celeb, Alice, clear, Claire

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  i hate buffering

SUMMARY : “hey hi, could you do an imagine with Dean who is dyslexic or dyscalcic? Please I would really care <3” — anon

PAIRING :  dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff

WORD COUNT : 826

A/N : title from a the devil wears prada song. ah, an imagine. I actually don’t know what the hell I'm doing, but I loved this as I started reading a Stephen King book in the semi-darkness and I kept reading words wrong and thinking about how difficult it would be to be dyslexic.

Dean heard your adorable giggle before he heard your footsteps coming closer to his bedroom. 

This new, long-term dating thing made his heart skip a few beats.

You were cute and compassionate, mostly, but there was so much to you than just that. The longer he spent getting to know you, the more you seemed to unexpectedly expose parts of yourself, like heated kernels turning to popcorn. 

He stopped cleaning the stuff in his bedside table’s drawer to watch you with a dimpled smile. He sat on the bed and you finally showed him what you were shyly hiding behind your back.

He blinked a few times, willing his brain to focus on the yellow sticky note and your pretty handwriting. He glanced up at you, your expectant gaze, the flush on your cheeks. Embarrassment flared up his neck and he panicked.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he blurted out. You tilted your head at him as your brows twitched and your smile faded into confusion. “I'm tired, I can’t focus,” he lied, rubbing his eyes.

You thought it odd, but shrugged it off anyway.

“Oh, that’s fine,” you smiled, “it says: show me your tits, cowboy.” Dean laughed softly and you slapped the sticky note on the wall above his bed as you climbed into his lap. He instantly grabbed your waist and slowly slid his hands down to your ass. “But if you’re tired, we can just sleep… after you finish cleaning this up.” You dipped down to kiss his forehead, but he searched for your lips for a real kiss that made you warm all over. 

One of his hands slowly moved up your back until he cupped the back of your head to deepen the kiss. Before you knew it, he had you laying down on his bed and impatiently moved between your legs to kiss you harder.

You laughed against his lips and moved up the bed, never breaking the kiss until your head was properly pressed into his soft pillow. His warm, calloused hand sneaked up into your tank top, slowly lifting it, distracting you by licking into your mouth.  

His soft tongue played with yours and he gently squeezed your breast, causing your breath to hitch. He pulled away with a smirk that made you feel hotter. He removed his hand from your warm flesh to kiss down your neck and your hands moved into his soft hair. His soft lips pressed and brushed teasingly against your skin, and his careful teeth grazed your sensitive flesh. He gently pulled down the strap of your top and followed the thin strip before moving to kiss your cleavage instead.

“Fuck,” you whispered impatiently, but let him do things his way despite the fire you felt on your skin from his touch and his kiss. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered warmly against your skin. You smiled and hummed softly, watching him with his greedy eyes while he grabbed a handful of your ass and slipped his hand underneath your shorts. 

“You're not wearing underwear.” His voice was low and deep, and all you could do was bite down on your lips while he licked his own and just watched you hungrily. Your heart was in a frenzy and your mind was clouded with incoherent thoughts of him. Naked.

“I pretty much told you I came here for sex, but cuddling is an option if you’re tired.” He slid his hand out from under your shorts, moved back up to peck your lips before smiling down at you cheekily. You pressed your lips together shyly and lowered your hands to his broad shoulders. 

“Can I tell you something?” He asked suddenly, pressing his lower body against yours and gently leaned on his side with his arm beside you. You tried to ignore the sensation of his body being all over your and lovingly cupped his cheek.

“You can tell me anything.” 

He inhaled and looked away from you slightly. “I’m dyslexic. I couldn’t really read your note.”

You almost blurted out really? without thinking, but this is Dean. He wouldn’t say that if he wasn’t completely sure about it. Your smile softened and he chewed on his lip for a few seconds before trying to cover it up with a seductive lick of his lips and a quick glance at yours as an escape for his confession. 

“That must make all this hunting research very difficult for you,” you considered thoughtfully. He kissed you softly to interrupt your thoughts. 

“It does…” he mumbled against your mouth and rocked his hips gently against your core. Your breath got caught in your chest.

“You’re still very good at it,” you reassured him breathlessly and grabbed at his shirt to tug it up and off his flushed body. He hummed appreciatively against your lips. “Thanks for telling me,” you murmured, teasingly nipping at his lip when he started pulling away to remove his shirt.

“Thanks for being you.” 

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[wafflefries13]

The Consequence of Late Night Calls

Summary: You've been friends with Katsuki for years, and you've always thought it's been just that - friends. But when you get a late-night call, it might just change things.

AN: Last repost! The original post got eaten by Tumblr. I'm still really proud of this one. I wrote it back when I was first starting to publish fanfic and I like how it turned out.

Warnings: College au, drinking, language

The call shocked you out of a deep but impromptu sleep. You jerked up from the noise, a page of lecture notes sticking to your check. It fluttered back to the desk covered in its own mess of loose leaf documents, used textbooks that cost more than a weekend trip to Disney World, and a laptop missing three of its letter keys. 

You dragged your tongue against your teeth, trying to get rid of the cotton feel coating the inside of your mouth. Rubbing stars into your tired eyes, you wondered when exactly you had fallen asleep. Was it somewhere near memorizing the latin terminology for court rhetoric or around reading the case file and trial records you were going to be tested over on Monday? Deciding wondering was basically pointless, considering you had pretty  much forgotten all of it anyway, you pawed blindly around for your phone. 

“Hello?” You answered, eyes still closed, although it probably came out and more of a mumbled groan than anything else.  

“(Y/NNNNNNNNN)!” 

You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden loud noise. Blinking bleerally, you looked down at your phone. You had taken the caller ID picture a year ago, at a sorority Halloween party you barely remembered aside from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed followed by an ill-advised scavenger hunt that ended with a call to the police and the dean’s car somehow ending up in the agriculture department’s greenhouse crowded with Jack-O-lanterns. It was a profile shot of Bakugou Katsuki, his mouth opened in a mid-yell scowl, as was his standard expression, and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. One hand extended to try and block the camera, the other clutching a brown bottle. He was wearing a fantasy barbarian king costume, chest bare to show off the taut muscles he worked so hard for all of high school to get. When he’d shown up in it, or, rather, when Kirishima had dragged him along in his own dragonborn costume, you couldn’t believe he still had it. You remembered sitting in your basement in 9th grade, pricking your fingers with a sewing needle as you and the rest of your newly formed D&D group, Bakugou and Kirishima included, spent way too much time and effort into creating your costumes. 

Rubbing at the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to chase away the headache you could already feel forming, you brought the phone back to your ear. You could hear the low thump of bass heavy music in the background. 

“Hi, Suki,” You said, trying not to sound condescending, but it came out like that anyway. 

“Hey!” He said sharply. The rest of his reply was slurred smooth. “I told you not to call me that.” 

You smirked. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s embarrassing! ‘M not cute.” 

“No, you’re calling me at-” You pulled the phone away again to check the time. “Katsuki, it’s like two in the morning, what the hell?” 

You heard someone shout something on the other side of the line that Katsuki mumbled a reply to. To you he said, “Was thinking about you.” 

You felt yourself blush despite yourself. “You were thinking about me?” 

There was a clunk and a bump. You could imagine him falling against a wall and sliding down to sit until the room stopped spinning. “Yeah. I don’t like it.” 

You ignored the jab in your heart. “Well, thanks.” 

“It keeps happening. I’ll just be, like, doing stuff, and then I just think, ‘What would (Y/N) think of that?’ ‘I wonder what (Y/N)’s doing right now.’ ‘(Y/N) would know what to do now. She’s so smart. And her hands look so soft. And her eyes are so pretty.’” He was quiet for a second. “It’s annoying. I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s worse when you’re here.” There was a shuffling as you heard him try to stand up then give up again. “Why aren’t you here? I want you here.” 

You were wide awake now. You clenched and unclenched your hand, trying to process the information your obviously drunk friend had just confessed. Your stomach churned in a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and straight up butterflies. 

What the hell did all of that mean? Well, of course you knew what it meant, or you knew what it meant when spoken by a sober person of sound mind and body. But there was no way, you tried to rationalize, that The Bakugou Katsuki, the guy you’d known since freshman year of high school when he’d punched a guy who had flipped up your uniform skirt on the first day, the guy who had surprised just about everyone in home economics when he busted out a three tiered cake like it was no one’s business, the guy whos ego was big enough to have its own gravitational pull, was confessing his feelings to you in a drunk rant at two in the morning. 

“Katsuki,” You said in a soft voice. “I-” 

There was a retching sound from the other end of the line. Katsuki coughed, tried to say something, then threw up again. “Aw, fuck.” 

That headache was back with avengence now. You sighed, looking for your keys. “Katsuki, where are you?” 

“Uhh, on campus? At the Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. There’s a party. Why aren’t you here?” 

“You know I hate all the Greek life bs. Stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. You’re completely wasted.” 

“‘M not. I can handle what I drink.” There was another pause before he wretched again. 

“Did you just throw up again?” 

“...No.” 

“Cool. I’ll be there in ten.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond before hanging it. You didn’t think your heart could take it if he kept going on like he had been. Grabbing your keys and heading out of your crowded studio apartment, you hopped in your car to go save your drunk friend from making any other ill advised decisions that night. 

You realized that you were probably over thinking the whole phone call as you drove through deserted streets. You couldn’t help it, it was a bad habit you had formed as a kid that now  made you obsess over court documents and testimonies in class. But now, instead of helping, it was picking you apart. What did Katsuki’s tone imply when he was talking to you just now? Could you trust the tone of an inebriated person? What did he mean when he said he thought about you a lot? You’d known each other for years now, being involved in almost all the same activities. Wouldn’t it be natural to think about someone you spent so much time with? But you’d known Kirishima for just as long, not to mention the rest of the self-named “Baku-Squad.” You’d never gotten a late night drunk call from any of them. Heck, Katsuki had known Izuku way longer than he had known you, and you were pretty dang sure Katsuki had never called him going on and on about how he always thought about him. 

Stopping at a red light, you pressed your forehead into the soft faux-leather of your steering wheel, willing your thoughts to calm down and just come to a rational conclusion already. Expect, you know, a rational conclusion that wasn’t that the guy you had carried a torch for for almost as long as you had known him might actually have feelings for you back. 

You turned on to the street lined with sororities and fraternities across from the main campus. You had to slam on your breaks almost immediately to avoid running over a tipsy, giggling co-ed who was stumbling out into the road. She didn’t even look up at you. 

You didn’t know exactly which house Katsuki was stranded at, considering you could see at least three different parties all going on at first glance. His “Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever” wasn’t very helpful, either, considering all the Greek letters adorning the houses blended together in your mind at some point. And you really didn’t want to tramp through a bunch of different houses tonight. 

Thankfully, you were saved the trouble when you saw Kirishima’s 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle park half off the curb in front of one of the houses. You’d know that car anywhere. Kirishima had dragged your group to various scrap yards and auto-repair stores all summer after he got his license, the first of you all to do so, in an effort to fix up the worn down Chevelle that he’d bought for a hundred bucks and a turkey sandwich. 

You parked on the other side of the street then jogged across to the house that was practically vibrating with heavy music and Greek life energy. Stepping over a semi-conscious frat boy laying in the doorway, you scanned around the house for any sign of Katsuki’s pomeranian-puff-ball hair. 

You spotted Denki lounging on a couch, a lampshade on his head and a tangle of phone chargers clutched in his fist. His hand sparked every now and then as he used his quirk to recharge the collection of phones. 

You lifted up the edge of the lampshade. “Hey there, Pikachu.” 

“Heeeeeey~” He said, giving you a thumbs up. You could already tell he was too far gone, although you didn’t know if it was from drinking or the over use of his quirk. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard a voice call behind you. A body fell heavily against your back. Sero wrapped his arms around you in a backwards hug. “Where you been? We missed you!” 

“Studying. I’m boring, remember? I’m looking for Katsuki, you seen him around?” 

Sero snickered. “Bakugou, huh? He’s been looking for you for a long time, right, Denki?” 

“Heeeeeey~” 

You swallowed hard. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sero snickered again, flopping on the couch next to Denki. “Can’t tell. Part of the bro code. And he said he’d kill me.” 

“That does sound like Katsuki.” 

Sero covered his eyes with his arm, head leaning back. With a wide smile, he waved his hand in the vague direction to the back door. “I think he’s out by the pool or something.” 

You waved bye. “Thanks, I’ll go check it out. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?” 

“Look at ‘em go,” Sero said to Denki as you left. “You think they’ll have a spring wedding?” 

“Heeeeeey~” 

*~~~~* 

You managed to weave your way through the crowd of bodies clogging the house to finally spill out into the back yard. You had no idea how people were able to stay this energized this late into the night with this many other people around. You remembered once being stuck at another party, early on in your college days. When it became super clear you didn’t want to be there, overwhelmed by the noise, the crush of bodies, and the suffocation of social enterprise, Katsuki had dragged Kirishima over to you, planting him in front of you as your ‘extrovert shield.’  He’d stayed with you behind the boisterous redhead for the rest of the night. 

You wondered if Katsuki remembered doing that, if he remembered any of the small nice gestures he did for you over the years. And now, with his call, with what Sero said, with your over analyzing brain, you were dissecting every interaction you could remember. Was the time he opened a door for you a signal? Was the reason he would ask to study with you for chemistry, when he was way better in practically every subject than you, just so he could be close to you? Were the times he had given you his jacket when you were cold meant to be a more intimate moment? 

God, you were going to go crazy. 

Walking around the pool, you finally spotted the hot-headed blond. He was sitting slouched over on the end of one of the reclining pool chairs, forearms braced on his knees.  You almost called out to him, stopping cold when you saw the girl behind him. She had draped herself over his back, chin rested in the crook of his neck, one had massaging his shoulder, the other conspicuously sneaking under the hem of his shirt to rub circles on his abs. 

You clenched and unclenched your hands, worry gnawing at you as a headache at the back of your skull. Had something changed between the time he had called you and now? Had there been nothing there to change at all? Had you been misreading this situation the whole time? 

Katsuki looked up, his permanently affixed scowl even deeper. The second his jewel-red eyes met yours, you felt your heart skip a beat. He jumped to his feet so fast the girl behind him fell back against the chair. He tried marching over to you, which was made only slightly less intimidating by the drunk sway to his step. 

You didn’t remember him being so tall. You’d just seen him this afternoon. There was a flushed blush across his face, adding a surprising softness. Were his arms always that strong looking? Were his eyes that piercing? Was his jaw that strong? 

“You came,” He said, voice rough as whiskey soaking into gravel. 

You spread your hands. “Well, you said my name three times, so, here I am!” You laughed nervously, trying to ignore how his gaze pinned you down. 

He took another step towards you, hand reading up. “(Y/N), I-” 

His cheeks turned from pink to green. Lurching to the side, he vomited into the pool. You tried to help him back up, hunched over and trying to catch his breath. The crowd of people around you groaned in disgust before rolling in to sarcastic applause. Katsuki flipped them off. 

“Alright, Suki,” You said, rubbing his back. “Let’s get you back home.” 

He grumbled, leaning his full weight against you. You almost stumbled and fell with the sudden shift of balance. Katsuki slid his arm around your waist, hand firmly grasping your hip, as if he was the one trying to prevent you from a drunken stumble. His fingers felt like fire through your clothes. 

You decided to go around the house instead of trying to push your way through it. Soon you were making your way across the street. It took some maneuvering to unlock and open the passenger door. You practically dropped Katsuki in where his head fell back with a groan. You grabbed his seat belt and stretched across him to fasten it. It wasn’t until he started petting your hair that your realized your position of half-way laying across his lap. You jerked back, some of your hair getting caught in his fingers. He made a disappointed sound at the loss of it. 

You slid back into the driver's seat, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You had to take a few steadying breaths before you were ready to start the car. Pulling out of the neighborhood, you glanced over at Katsuki. His eye brows were furrowed, eyes closed, mouth pulled in a small frown. 

God, he looked adorable. 

You hit the break harder than you meant to at the light. Adorable? Where the hell did that thought come from? He’d probably be furious if he knew you ever thought that. 

But…

You risked another look at him. When he let his face relax like this, you could see the slight chub that still clung to his cheeks. Another thing he would hate to know that you thought was how much you loved the softness that it leant him. It was cute. 

Almost without your realizing it, you lifted your hand. You were overcome with the sudden urge to poke his cheek. A car horn blared behind you when your finger was less than an inch from his face. You let out an undignified squeak, hands slamming back to the wheel. Katsuki grumbled and turned in the seat, head resting against the window. You could feel the blush burning up your face. 

A few minutes later, you pulled back to the apartment complex. You both lived in the same building, Katsuki directly below your own unit. And now you were overthinking his reason for not living on campus. 

When you opened the passenger door, Katsuki almost fell out. You jerked forward to catch him then dragged him out. He half woke up, as feeble on his legs as a newborn horse. 

You lugged him through the lobby. He was muttering under his breath, but most of the words you could make out were curses. Not unusual for him. You pressed the button for the elevator repeatedly. It just blinked back at you. You sighed in frustration. They had been doing maintenance on your building all week, but now might have been the absolute worst time to do the elevator. 

You shook Katsuki’s shoulder a little bit. His head jostled like a bobble-head. “Suki, I’m gonna need your help here for a minute.” 

His head lolled forward, forehead coming down to press to yours. In a quiet voice, he whispered, “I’d do anything for you.” 

You shoved him upright, face burning. “Then walk up the damn stairs yourself!” 

Despite that, you still ended up half-carrying him up four flights of stairs. You were uncomfortably sweaty when you reached the door to Katsuki’s apartment. The two of you had traded copies of your apartment keys when you had moved in. “In case something happens to your dumb ass and I need to come save you,” He had said. He would frequently stop by, usually when you were hours deep into an all-nighter. He’d bring his laptop and work on whatever 12 page essay way due on your bed while you poured over case reports. You’d sit in silence, just together, sharing the same space, content with nothing more than knowing the other was nearby. Or he’d bring you real food to make sure you weren’t just eating ramen all the time. In turn, you’d pull him out for game night with the squad, make sure he’d actually call his mother once in a while, and lend an ear to his semi-nightly rants on whoever he decided to hate that night. 

You fumbled with the keys, jamming the key in the lock then pushing it open with your shoulder that wasn’t currently occupied by a half-asleep, full-drunk boy who had at least 50 pounds and ten inches on you. 

There was always an expectation with the rooms of single college boys. Greasy pizza boxes, empty bottles of booze displayed like expensive decor, at least one poster of a half-naked girl somewhere, probably a basket of clothes that should have been washed weeks ago. And while you knew plenty of guys who fit that description, Katsuki defied expectation. His apartment was always immaculate. His shoes were lined neatly by the door, a calendar above his desk  color-coded with assignment due dates, bed made. Katsuki may give off the persona of a punk, but you knew he was a straight-laced nerd through and through.  

With the last of your strength, you lugged him across the room, dropping him on his bed. With a groan, you stretched your arms up until you heard a satisfying pop in your back. Hands on your hips, you watched as Katsuki moaned, burying his face in his pillow and pulling his feet up from the floor. You sat on the end of the bed, tugging his feet to you to unlace his shoes. You let them fall haphazardly to the floor, too tired to care about his level of neatness.  

You grabbed a bucket from his hall closet, putting it next to the head of his bed for when he inevitably woke up vomiting in the morning. Checking his bathroom, you put a couple of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand with a post-it note saying “Drink Me.” 

Brushing your hands off, you looked around and checked your work. Satisfied that he wouldn’t kill himself between now and when you would inevitably check on him in the morning, you decided it was finally time to head back upstairs and get some well deserved sleep. 

But… 

You turned back at the door. Katsuki was splayed like a starfish, gently snoring with his mouth wide open. You also noticed his blushing red fluffy cheeks. 

You tapped the door knob a few times before sighing in surrender to temptation and turnin back. You knelt down next to the bed. For a moment, you just watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful now. You reached out. Your index finger sunk into his cheek like it was a marshmallow. You couldn’t believe you had never done this before. God, he really was adorable. 

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off as Katsuki’s hand shot up and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip. With a shriek, you tried to scramble backwards. Katsuki lazily opened his eyes, not at all bothered by your struggles. With seemingly no effort on his part, he tugged you forward. Off balance, you fell into his chest. Katsuki wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug, slinging a leg over yours, trapping you on the bed. 

“Katsuki!” You hissed. You squirmed in his hold, not getting any extra room. He just hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You were pretty sure your face was hot enough to start a fire. “Katsuki, let me go!” 

“No,” He mumbled. His voice rumbled against your skin sending shivers through your whole body. 

“Katsuki!” 

“You can’t leave. If you leave, you won’t come back.” 

You stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?” 

He squeezed you tighter. “I’m loud. I get angry real easy. I fight a lot. And you…” He trailed off, his breath catching and rattling in his chest. “You’re so much better than me. You’re nice and smart and talented and pretty and caring and… and…” You could feel the hot tears landing on your skin. He was starting to shake. His grip had loosened enough for you to get out, but instead you brought your arms up and pulled him in closer. “If I let you go, you’ll see how much better you are than me. And you’ll leave. You’ll leave me because you’re better and you deserve so much better. But I’m a selfish bastard and I just want you for myself because I love you so damn much.” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You wiggled your hand up, threading your hand into his hair and tilting his head to look up at you. 

“I love you too,” You said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Katsuki crushed you to his chest, letting out another loud sob. You could feel hot tears pressing against your eyes. You had no idea Katsuki felt this way about anything; about you, about himself, about your relationship. 

But one thing you knew for sure: You loved Bakugou Katsuki. 

~~~

The first thing Katsuki noticed when he woke up was the head ache. His head felt like he had a railroad spike jammed through his temples. God, what did he do last night? There was the party at Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. It’d been fine for a while, hanging out with the guys, playing beer pong, winning some extra cash from freshman in poker (where did he put that money anyway?). And then…

And then someone had said your name. He’d heard it across the room, an amazing feat in and of itself, but his ears were trained for any news of you. He’d jerked up right when he heard it, missing his shot at the beer pong table. He gladly took his drink and went prowling through the house. Who had said your name? Were you here? Were you coming?  

It might have been selfish, he knew how much you hated loud crowds, but damn it, he wanted you here. He remembered the last Greek life party you had been at. He’d lost you at some point between getting into an argument with that damn Deku and pulling Denki down from a keg stand. He’d finally found you huddled into some back corner, looking like a rabbit about to dart from a hungry fox (he wouldn’t mind being that fox, honestly, he could eat you right up.) You’d lost the color in your face, hands shaking as you clutched your red Solo cup almost hard enough for your nails to pierce the plastic. 

He snatched Kirishima by his collar as he carved a path through the room. He planted the extroverted red-head in front of you, creating an extrovert shield between himself and the love of his life you. He’d spent the rest of the night talking to you. Nothing special, he couldn’t even really remember what about. But he did remember the relaxed slope of your shoulders, the spark in your eyes, the smile that played on your lips at whatever lame joke he had just made. 

Back in the present (or last night, whatever), he was still stalking through the halls looking for whoever had mentioned you. He heard it again, the tail end of your name, coming from the living room. 

“-(/N) never had it so good.” There he was, lounging along the bottom stairs with a smug look on his face as he regaled the small crowd he had attracted. Katsuki recognized him as one of those legacy kids, the one who showed up to the first day of orientation in a sleek black Bugatti and took up three parking spaces, talked in almost every one of his classes when he even bothered to show up, and was, without a doubt at every party on or off campus. 

And now he was telling a story about you. What were you ever doing with an asshole like him? 

“You would never guess it from how she dresses, you know,” The guy continued, lazily waving his half-empty beer bottle. “But she is stacked.” 

Katsuki tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat. He pushed aside the crowd until he stood right in front of the bragger on the stairs. “What did you just say?” He asked through clenched teeth. “You're talking about (Y/N) (L/N), right?” 

He lazily swept his gaze up, grinning wide when he saw Katsuki. “Yeah, (Y/N)? You know, she comes across as a frigid bitch, but let me tell you, she’s an incredible lay.” Katsuki’s vision went red. The crowd started to subtly shuffle away, feeling the cold change in atmosphere. “Not much besides that, honestly. Thank god her tits and ass are amazing, cause her face sure wasn’t doing it for me. Super boring, too, heard she’s failing her classes. Oh, well. Hey, I could use a side-piece when I’m running my own firm, you know?” 

The asshole never saw it coming. In the span of a heart beat, Katsuki had grabbed his designer jacket and hoisted him off the stairs, pinning him to the wall so his feet kicked to try and reach the ground. 

“You listen to me, asshole,” Katsuki hissed. “You never talk about (Y/N) again. You never look at her, you never talk to your shit-stain friends about her, you sure as fuck never tell another lie about her, or so help me, you’ll get to find out what color your liver is.” 

Katsuki was half-way sure the jerk had pissed his pants. He dropped him in a heap, landing in the puddle of spilled beer on the floor. He brushed his hand off on his jeans, eager to get whatever germs the gossip had off him.  

He was almost out of ear shot when he heard the rich kid spit and say, “Fine. She’s probably crawling with it if you’re dicking her down.” 

The kid’s head made a dent in the wall as he richoched back from the impact of Katsuki’s punch. He would easily have a black eye and a broken nose, the chipped tooth would just be a  bonus. 

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy with rage, stalked through the house, bee-lining it to the nearest source of inebriation. How dare he? How fucking dare that absolute ass-wipe ever even think of saying such horrible things about you? He wasn’t even worth knowing your name, much less saying it. Not to mention the fact he must be blind to think you were anything less than stunning. Ever since he had known you, you had been nothing but kind and smart and caring and funny and…

“Baku-bro, you doing okay?” 

Katsuki didn’t realize how tight he was holding his fists until he relaxed. His nails had made half-moon indents in his palms, his knuckles brushed red from the punch. 

Kirishima had his mouth pulled down in that stupid puppy dog pout. “I’m fine,” Katsuki brushed him off. He grabbed a beer out of an iced cooler, twisting off the cap in a single motion and chugging half the bottle. 

“Well, that’s good, cause I don’t think Tim Flood is making it out of here without a few stitches.” 

“Good.” Katsuki finished the beer and chucked it into a recycle bin. He grabbed another and stalked out of the room. Everything felt too hot, too tight. His head was pounding. If you were here, you’d get a bag of ice and press it against his forehead. You’d probably call him an idiot for getting into another fight, that he needed to learn how to manage his temper better. He’d call you a dumbass but let you lead him away somewhere dark and quiet, away from all the other more insufferable dumbasses. You’d find some pain killers, get him some water, because that’s just the kind of caring person you were. Maybe you’d bring him upstairs, lead him to an unoccupied bedroom. The two of you would sit together on the bed, maybe just a little too close. You’d hand him the water, his hand would brush against yours. You’d look down, shy, blushing cutely. He’d lean forward, thread his hand through your incredibly soft hair, angle your face up to him. Your plush lips would part slightly and he’d lean forward and - 

“Are you sure you’re good?” Kirishima asked, abruptly cutting off Katsuki’s impromptu fantasy. “Cause you don’t look so good.” Katsuki bit his tongue. “Is it because of what that guy said about (Y/N)?” Katsuki whipped around, glaring daggers. Kirishima smiled and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, bro, it’s okay! No one believed him, anyway.” 

Katsuki scoffed, taking a swig of the beer. “(Y/N)’s too good for him anyway.” 

“I bet you think (Y/N)’s too good for everyone here, right?” 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you need to hurry up and tell (Y/N) you like her!” Sero shouted, jumping in out of nowhere. 

Katsuki dropped his bottle, Kirishima catching it just in time, and grabbed Sero by the front of his shirt and lifted him up. Sero just grinned his stupid, wide grin. 

“Come on, Katsuki,” Denki said, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. “We all know you’ve had a thing for (Y/N) since high school. Why don’t you just put us all out of our misery and tell her already?!” 

Katsuki felt his face heat up. “I don’t- I haven’t - Fuck you!”  Katsuki couldn’t remember why he was friends with these three idiots as they all burst out into laughter.

 He snatched his bottle back and pushed through the crowd. He needed some air. He heard Sero yell after him, “You have to tell her eventually!” 

And… That was mostly it. Katsuki’s memories of last night sort of started to trail off after that. He knew that he drank, he drank a lot. At some point he ended up by the pool. And maybe he’d called someone? Oh, hell, he hoped he hadn’t called someone. 

His eyes snapped open at the soft groan. There you were, just inches away from his face, fast asleep and tucked in his arms. You were pressed close, breasts pushing against his chest, legs tangled with his, one hand clutching his shirt. Your lips were parted ever so slightly, breathing heavy and even. 

And you were so fucking close. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His arms tightened around you and he tensed. How the hell did this happen? Did you actually come to the party last night? When, and why? What had called you down there-? 

Oh. Oh, the call! He had called you last night? Some time in his drunken haze he must have figured out to bypass the timed lock he had put on it specifically to avoid calling people with a too-honest tongue. But had you…?  Nervously, he looked down. He sighed in relief. You were both still dressed. At least that was one mistake he knew he hadn’t made. 

Alright, that was one problem. Now, on to the next one: How was he going to get out of here without waking you up? Craning his head around, he checked out the room. Wait, this was his room. He was in his apartment! A picture of last night started to form in his mind. He’d called you, blabbering God knows what, and then you’d been a good person (why were you such a good person?) and had come to get him, to make sure he was okay. And then what? He’d somehow seduced you into his bed? No, it was more likely you had stayed to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, maybe sat on the bed because it was the middle of the night and you were exhausted, and then… This. 

Okay, okay, no, this was fine, he could fix this. He could slip out, let you keep sleeping. He’d make some breakfast in the kitchen and then you’d wake up, wander in rubbing the sleep from your eyes in that cute way you did when you pulled an all-nighter studying. He’d chastise you for lugging his drunk ass up here, for being out so late at night. You’d wave him off, compliment his cooking, tell him to take better care of himself, and then smile up at him with that blindingly beautiful smile and sparkling eyes. 

“Morning.” Katsuki yelped at your greeting. He stared, wide-eyed, down at you, as you look back up at him lazily with those sparkling eyes. “It’s kinda hard to breathe here.” He realized then just how tight he was holding you. He jerked backward, his shout of surprise cut off as he fell off the bed. He rubbed his sore hip, looking up when he heard your giggle. You were leaning over the bed, smiling shyly when he caught you staring. 

He gulped hard, feeling his face burning up. “Hi.” 

You tucked a loose threat of hair behind your ear. “Hi.” 

He should say something. He needed to say something. God, why wasn’t he saying something? 

“I-“ Katsuki stopped with an incomplete thought in his mouth. He suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, his stomach clenching and throat going dry. Your face dropped as you lunged forward, dragging a bucket in front of him (where did that even come from?). He surged forward, clenching the sides of the bucket in a white knuckled grip, and threw up. 

You slid off the bed and knelt next to him. You rubbed small circles in his back, whispering small comforts as he coughed up bile and alcohol and who knows what else. You reached over behind him and grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand. 

“Here,” You said. “Rinse and spit. Don’t swallow or gargle, it’ll just mess with your gag reflex.” Rubbing the spike of pain growing in his forehead, he did what you said. When he caught his breath, he accepted the pain killers you had and dry swallowed them. You really had prepared for everything, huh? 

Katsuki shoved the bucket away with his foot, leaning back against the bed. “Fuck…” 

You hummed in response and scooted to sit next to him. “So,” You said. 

“So,” He said back. 

“I don’t suppose you remember much from last night?” 

He clenched his jaw, mouth going dryer than it already was, if that was possible. He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and strained, even to him. “Hey, we’re both still wearing pants, right?” You didn’t laugh back. 

“So that’s a no then?” The seriousness with which you said that made him pause. 

“I, uh, think I called you?” 

“MmHmm. You didn’t sound too great, so I came to pull you out.” 

“Huh. Thanks for that.” 

“Yup.” You paused for a second. “Do you remember… anything else you said?” 

Fuck. 

“Uhh, I owe you breakfast?” 

You looked away. “Is there anything you maybe told Sero that you wouldn’t want him to tell me?” 

Double fuck. 

“If this is about Halloween last year, Mina was the one who brought the Ouija board.” He smirked at you, waiting for you to laugh with him. Instead you didn’t even look up, staring a hole in the carpet with the intensity of your gaze. 

You let out a sigh through your nose, pushing off your knees to stand. “I’m gonna head out,” You said, rubbing the back of your head and still not looking at him. 

Katsuki jumped up, immediately regretting as his head began swimming. “(Y/N), wait-“ He cut himself off with another surge of nausea and lurched towards the bucket. 

“Katsuki,” You said, sounding frustrated. “Look, I…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and turning back to him. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, right? And for all the time I’ve known you, you’ve been stubborn and pig-headed and aggressive and just, you know, you. But still, in all that time, despite everything, I still…” You pressed your lips, looking for the right words. “I’m happy when I’m around you, Katsuki. I feel at ease, I feel protected, I feel like I can be better at anything. And I’ve thought about this a lot, so much that it makes my head spin and my heart hurt, but through all the trouble I still think it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day it means I still get to be with you and sometimes I just feel like that’s enough, but now I…” Your lip was trembling, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to take a big step forward and wrap you in the biggest, tightest hug of your life. Finally, you sighed in defeat. “But if you can’t say it, if the One and Only Katsuki Bakugou can’t say it, then how the hell can I?” 

Your voice broke on the last word. Katsuki was so stunned and suddenly pinned with guilt that he couldn’t move when you spun on your heels and rushed out of his apartment. 

Oh, fuck. 

~~~

“Idiot,” You murmured to yourself as you fled up the apartment stairs, furiously wiping at your eyes to get rid of the oncoming tears. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.” By the time you reached your apartment and slammed the door behind you, you weren’t sure if you were talking about Katsuki or yourself. 

You felt sick. Anxiety gnawed at your mind like a starving coyote. Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki? Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki like that? Would he ever speak to you again? Would things just become too awkward that you’d be edged out of your friend group? They had known Katsuki much longer than they had known you, after all. God, what if he was calling Kirishima right now and telling him about the disaster of a morning, after you had taken advantage of his blitz out state and slept in the same bed with him? 

Well, no. Kirishima was probably still knocked  out from his own night of heavy imbibing. Not to mention that even he, the most kind-hearted and patient person you knew, would have to draw a line at listening to Katsuki rant while dealing with a massive hangover. 

And no, Katsuki wouldn’t do that to you. Despite his rough deminor, his abrasive personality, and his profane tongue, Katsuki was actually a sweetheart deep down. Maybe really deep down, but still. He wouldn’t be so intentionally cruel, even if you told him that you shared all of his baby pictures of him playing in his All Might onesie online. 

So then why were you still huddled on a heap on the floor, back pressed against the front door, crying? Why was this pit of loneliness blooming in your chest?  

You yelped at the sudden banging on the door. Who could be here so early in the morning? You had paid rent this month, right? You sniffed, rubbing your eyes and smoothing out your clothes. You hoped your cheeks weren’t the blotchy red they got whenever you were upset. You took a deep breath to steady your voice for whoever was outside. 

Opening the door, you looked up at a wide-eyed Katsuki, panting hard with determination set on his face. You groaned internally. 

“Katsuki,” You began,” About what I said, I’m sorr-” 

Without waiting for you to finish, Katsuki surged forward. You tried to take a step backward, almost falling, but he caught you, a strong grip on your shoulders. Without waiting for you to get your bearings, Katsuki leaned in, smashing his lips against yours. 

It wasn’t a graceful kiss, all clashing teeth and urgency rather than romance. His eyes were screwed closed. He stayed pressed against you, not moving, grip so tight on your upper arms you thought there might be a mark later. 

Just as suddenly as he had come forward, he jerked back, but kept his hold on you. You both breathed heavily, eyes locked. Your mind whirled, a hundred voices shouting at the same time. For once, you decided to ignore them and let your body do what it wanted. 

You reached up, wrapping your arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulled him back in. This kiss was controlled, soft and sweet. His hands dropped from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. He pressed in harder, adding desperation in the kiss, as if he thought you would vanish any second. When you both pulled away this time, he leaned his forehead against yours, noses bumping into each other, sharing the same breath. 

His voice was rough. “Sorry,” He said. “I had to brush my teeth first.” 

[bullet-prooflove]

Tomorrow gonna blame it on the alcohol, Same old thing leads to another

Tagging: @kmc1989

Title: You, Me & Tennessee

When Dean wakes up he barely knows where he is, his temples pound and his mouth tastes like bourbon, the kind you find on the bottom shelf. All around him is the scent of gardenias and he knows, he just fucking knows that he’s done it again.

He groans as he shifts onto his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling and the crown moulding above him. He throws his arm across his eyes to shield them from the light that’s filtering in through the open window. The breeze brushes over his bare skin, the plush white sheets pooling across his hips and for a moment he allows himself to imagine himself  that this is life.

A cottage in Tennessee, with a pink rosebush alongside the front door. Hiking on the weekends, grilling in the summer with a cold beer in one hand. He’d have a normal job, probably as a forest ranger, he’d do shifts in the watchtower where you’d almost got your heart ripped out by Wendigo and when he’d come home you’d be happy to see him.

When he finally manages to get himself out of bed, he finds his clothes folded neatly on the chair in the corner of the room, the same as always. He takes a shower before he pulls them on, using the guest toothbrush that you always leave out for him when he turns up unexpectantly. It’s when he gets to the door that he pauses, because it means he has to face you again and Dean, he’s not sure if he’s ready to do that. He briefly contemplates escaping out of the window but the truth is he wants to see you, it’s why he ends up here at least once a year.

He finds you in the garden, seated at the table on the veranda with a freshly made cafetiere of coffee and two mugs sitting in front of you. There’s a Stephen King novel in your hands and he wonders how the hell you can still read that shit after everything that happened to you up on that mountain.

When your eyes flicker up to meet his gaze, it feels like everything else just falls away. He forgets the reasons you can’t be together, that his life is so violent and chaotic that it would kill you, he knows it would. Instead he just focuses on you, the fact he’s missed you more than anything in his whole entire life.

You don’t expect him to kiss you, he can tell from the way the book slips out of your hand, hitting the paving stones but you don’t fight him. You never do, because the thing is you’ve missed Dean just as much as he’s missed you.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[rotten-corpses-blog]

NSFW Jason Dean head cannons

I spent too long on this. SMUT a head fellas

Oh lord this man

He’s horny 24/7. It would be concerning if he wasn’t so hot.

King of public sex right here, when he wants it he wants it and doesn’t care if you skip the entirety of your math class that day, he’ll do it again, don't test him.

1000% obsessed with you, you don’t even have to do anything to get him going; if you just exist around him for 2 minutes he has a raging boner.

He is a hard dom for sure, no questions about it. He has no chill at all.

His pace is rough and fast most of the time, unless you request otherwise.

He’s a panty snatcher, you’ll wonder where your underwear are going most of the time and why you can’t find a pair after he comes over.

And he LOVES buying you new underwear (that he can steal back) this mf prob has some kind of rewards program for Victoria's secret. (no shame)

Has bondage gear, it’s hidden somewhere under his bed.

That strip crockett scene? Imagine that but almost every night and everywhere in your house he knows y’all won’t get caught.

It’s a miracle that if you have the parts, you aren’t pregnant. So many scares tho.

He loves cumming inside, no condom. If you aren’t comfortable with that he’ll cum on your face.

I honestly think he likes giving oral, he’s so obsessed with you that he loves the feeling that he can give you.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves blowjobs. He loves them so much that you better hope you have a good gag reflex.

He’ll get pouty if he doesn’t get attention, he gets over it pretty quickly tho and materbates very loudly where you can hear him.

He has no shame about sex, like at all. He doesn’t care who hears or sees. (he’ll kill them later)

He loves your ass, no matter how big or small. Fucks you doggystyle to see it jiggle.

He just likes your body in general; your god/goddess in his eyes and he honestly feels that you were made for him.

He may be a perv, but he’s respectful. No means no and he knows and respects that. 

Jason Dean is the horniest bastard (and proud perv) but you love each other and that’s all that matters.

[spnbabe67]

So Come And Do It For Me

Kinktober Day 15: Phone Sex (D.W.)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, Fingering, Masturbation (F. described, M. implied), dirty talk, slight power exchange if you squint

Summary: Cabin fever sets in for Tori as the fifth day alone in the Bunker gets to her. Luckily, Dean calls to take care of his girl.

Word Count: 1640

Authors Note: Title inspired by the song Love Me by Ex Habit

Tag List:

@zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

Tori hated being injured. Hated the clean, hospital reminiscent smell of the antiseptic wipes. Hated the way the cast material clung to her lower leg, restricting her mobility. She hated laying in bed all day, or sitting at the table in the library when she could be out with Sam and Dean chasing down leads. Most of all, she hated being useless. Tori didn’t care how many times Dean had tried to placate her, telling her that doing research and being whatever law enforcement contact they needed was helpful. She knew better.

She knew there wasn’t any piece of lore Sam couldn’t find in a library or on that laptop of his. Knew that Bobby or even Garth could play FBI/DNR/U.S. Marshall supervisor 10 times better than she could. It felt, lazy, irresponsible even, to stay sequestered in the Bunker when she could be out there helping people. Saving people, hunting things. That was the motto, not ‘take it easy, let your fractured tibia heal”. Doesn’t really have the same ring to it.

Tori had heard her mom use the phrase ‘hurry up and wait’ many times in her youth, but she’d never truly understood the sentiment behind it until now. Not to mention the fact that loneliness was a monster that had carved a hole in her chest, curled itself up and settled in. Tori’d never realized how quiet the Bunker was without Sam and Dean here. Sure the pipes groaned and the building itself whispered and hummed with all the machinery housed under it’s roof. But with her boys gone, there was no bickering, no classic rock blaring in the kitchen, no clinking of bottles in toast. Just the ambient noises that had her feeling smaller than a flea as she hobbled down the long, empty, hallways.

It was probably her imagination, but Tori could have sworn she had started to wear a track between her and Dean’s bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen and the library. It seemed like weeks they’d been gone, but Tori knew it was barely five days. But the seconds blended into minutes and minutes into hours and the hours turned lonely days into even lonelier nights curled up around one of Dean’s flannels she’d shoved onto a pillow in an attempt to pretend it was his chest she fell asleep upon. 

That’s where she was, on her third time rereading the same page in the novel she started, when her cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. Tori sighed, knowing it was Dean on the other end of the line. He called her each night around this time. It warmed her heart, gave her something to look forward to at the end of the day, days that would otherwise bleed together with the lack of sunlight in the Bunker, given the lack of windows; even with the crutches Sam had ran out and got her, she was still too awkward on her feet to try and brave the stairs, feeling a little too much like Bambi than her pride would allow her to acknowledge.

Tori smiled to herself as she accepted the call, bringing her phone to her ear. “Hey.” She greeted him.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Dean’s voice was soft even though it was slightly distorted over the phone. “How’s my girl today?” 

Tori shrugged, facing a few seconds of silence before she remembered that duh Dean couldn’t see her. “Eh. It’d be better if I was there with you and Sam.”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know.”

Tori shoved away the sadness she felt creeping in at the edges. “How are things going?”

She listened attentively as Dean recounted how he and Sam were tracking some obscure monster from some mythology even Tori hadn’t heard of. Sam, living up to his ‘Boy Genius’ nickname, had found the monster's M.O. in some archaic text buried in the back of the town's library, all of the methods matching to a ‘T’. The hard part, according to Dean, was finding the sucker. 

“I have faith in you Baby.” Tori murmured, rolling from her side onto her back, slinging the hand she wasn’t using to hold the phone to her ear, over her stomach.

“I have faith in you too, Sweetheart.” Dean answered, and Tori could faintly hear what she could only assume was the motel bed’s springs squeak as Dean must have sat down. “You’re so strong, and so brave. You’ll be back out here with us in no time.”

Tori sighed. “I know.” She toyed with the material of her sweatshirt. “I really miss you, De.”

The praise falling from Dean’s lips, traveling across the telephone lines to her ears, had Tori squirming in their bed, heat rushing between her thighs. With Dean gone and the lack of motivation plaguing her, Tori was revved up way too easily. 

“I know Sweetheart. I miss you too.”

“Dean.” Tori could hear her voice become breathy as she toyed with the waistband of the boxers she stole from Dean to wear while he was gone. “I really miss you.”

She could practically see the smirk she knew was forming on her lover's face. The rustling of clothes over the receiver turned her on even more, knowing what Dean was doing. Sam must have been out or the boys had gotten separate rooms for Dean to readily be available to do this with her. Either way, Tori wasn’t gonna question it, grateful that Dean was raring to go just like she was. She knew he was missing her just as badly as she was missing him. He hated leaving her alone, regardless of if it was on a hunt or a simple grocery run.

“You touchin’ yourself Baby?” Dean’s voice had gotten a shade thicker, that gravelly intonation in her ear sending shocks of arousal on a straight shot to her core. 

Tori slid her hand beneath the cotton boxers to slide a nimble finger down the seam of herself. “Mmhm.” She hummed, tipping her head back against the pillow, the movement wafting Dean’s cologne to envelope her. 

“Good girl.” Dean practically growled into the receiver. “I want you to rub that pretty clit of yours real slow, okay?”

Tori suppressed a whine. She didn’t want to go slow, and she knew Dean knew that. Her back arched up off the bed at the first contact of her middle finger against her dully throbbing clit. Behind her eyes she imagined Dean sprawled out on the motel bed, his handsome cock gripped in those big hands of his. She imagined those hands all over her body, one taking the place of her own rubbing small circles around her puffy clit.

“How’s that feel?” His voice caressed the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“G-Good. Wish it was you touchin’ me, De.” Tori moaned softly as her ministrations had her bucking her hips up, chasing her own hand.

“I’m right here, Sweetheart.” With the phone pressed flush against her ear, it was almost like he was here with her. “I want you to slip one of your fingers inside that tight pussy for me. Keep it slow, Sweetheart. I want you to feel yourself. Take your time with it.”

Her lips parted, mouth dropping open as she thumbed her clit, freeing her middle finger to slip inside herself. Tori curled her finger upwards, her inner walls clenching around the digit as she brushed against that spot that had her moaning unabashedly. Dean praised her, his own voice breathy and raw. She could occasionally hear wet sounds as Dean fucked his fist. The erotic image that conjured spurred her movements, pistoning her finger in and out of herself, adding her ring finger once Dean instructed her to. Her fingers didn’t fill her quite as nicely as Dean’s, but this wouldn’t be the first time she explored her own body, inside and out. Tori ground her hips against her hand, thumb still strumming away at her clit in time with curling her fingers in a come-hither motion. 

“That’s it, Baby. Fuck yourself on your fingers. I bet you look so pretty like this, your fingers shoved to the knuckle in that pretty pink pussy. Wish I was there to lick your taste off of them.”

Tori moaned shakily, unable to form a coherent sentence in the face of the pure filth Dean was whispering in her ear. Her inner walls began to throb around her fingers, that too-good feeling starting to flood her lower belly. She whined his name, her thighs starting to shake, her hips thrusting erratically against her hand.

“I know Baby, me too.” Dean moaned to her. “Just a little longer. Be a good girl and wait for me.”

Tori whined into the receiver, trying to hold back the immense wave of pleasure cresting inside her. She panted, sweat beading on her forehead as she held back her orgasm. Tori moaned his name in a seemingly unbroken loop, a plea for him to give her the word. She cried out, nearly sobbing as Dean gave her the word, her legs going lazy, hips wildly bucking against her fingers as she came. Dean’s guttural moan as he came had her clenching down like a vice around her fingers. 

Tori sighed satisfactorily, pulling her fingers from under her boxers. “I love you, De.” She mumbled sleepily.

“I love you too, Tor.” Dean panted, his voice thick with affection. “I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Tori mumbled, already feeling her eyelids grow heavy. “Be safe and come home to me.”

“I will, Baby. I’ll see you soon.”

Tori murmured more I love you’s before hanging up the call. She sighed, smiling as she tugged the Dean-pillow closer, burying her face into the flannel, dreams of Dean and a promise of seeing him soon lulling her to sleep.

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (11) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: finally, coriolanus can call you his. 

word count: 2,423

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: coryo’s pov, pet name (petal), not proofread 

Coriolanus Snow was eighteen when he asked for your hand. 

He had just graduated from the Academy—no thanks to Dean Highbottom—and he was due to ship out to whatever Peacekeeper base he was assigned to by the end of the week. He was fine with the idea of being a Peacekeeper. As fine as he could be, at least. Because his father had been a general during the war, people could easily believe that his enlistment was to honor his father—not because the Snows were penniless. His brilliance demanded more, of course, but he could come back to the Capital eventually. Perhaps find clever ways to invest his money. 

The worst part, though, was the idea of not seeing you again. He loved, no, adored, his verbal sparring matches with you. He adored how you got a rise out of him so easily, as if you weren’t even trying. He adored the way you occupied his every thought. To not be able to hear you rant, or see the way a smirk would curl across your face when you discovered something particularly clever to say, would be the death of him. 

He surely looked pathetic, standing in your father’s office, his hands clasped together to hide their shaking as he asked, “Sir, could I please have your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Your father scarcely looked up from his paperwork. “You’re shipping out soon, are you not? Or did my friends at the Peacekeeping Office mislead me?”

Coriolanus swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. But your daughter…I have never met a more brilliant person.” More quietly, he admitted, “She makes me want to be a better man.”

Your father glanced up, quickly, then looked down again. “She deserves a better life than one on a military base.”

“I agree, sir. I will provide her one. I don’t intend to serve the rest of my life.” Intent and reality were different. Competing. While Coriolanus might not want to be a Peacekeeper forever, he very well might be. “I already have a ring for her.”

He opened his hand and placed the ring on your father’s desk. It was a family heirloom. One of the few that hadn’t been sold off to pay their debts. His Grandma’am insisted that he keep it. He would need it, after all, for when he found the woman he wished to marry. And for every night after that day at the opera, he had pulled it from his nightstand and imagined how it might look, sitting prettily on your finger. 

Your father glanced up again and pushed the ring away. “Ask again when your service is up.”

Every part of Coriolanus wanted to scream and shout and insist that he be granted your hand. No one could love you better, he was sure of it. But fighting your father…That would ensure he never got to marry you. So, he swallowed again, plucked the ring from the desk, and thanked your father for his time. 

Coriolanus Snow was eighteen, still, when he asked for your hand again. 

Over the last several months, he had worn that ring alongside his dog tags. It was his only rebellion he had against the strict Peacekeeper regimen. It was his only reminder of what he was fighting so hard for. And now, after the Plinths had found some convoluted reason to grant him a portion of their fortune—something about a debt that Sejanus owed him in school—he was back in the Capital. 

Your father was leaned back in his chair as Coriolanus asked again, making his case for why he would be a dutiful husband. When he finished, your father said, “The ton knows how your wealth was squandered after the war. How you were only saved from ruin by the generosity of the Plinths.” Your father practically spat on their name. “Why should I let my daughter marry into that?”

“I would never let her experience financial ruin, I can promise you that. What happened with my family was, is, a travesty. But we are a proud family, and we have been working to rebuild ourselves. There was hardly a family not so afflicted by the war. We might have had a boost by the Plinth family, but I will not allow our good name to be sullied.”

Your father eyed Coriolanus, scrutinizing every details. From how new his suit was, to the buzzcut that was slowly being grown out. “I don’t doubt that. But I will need more reassurance that my daughter will be taken care of. You have to understand.”

Coriolanus could only nod, scared of what acid might fall from his lips if he deigned to speak. 

“Ask again when you make a name for yourself.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty when he asked again. 

He was the King now. The Electors had granted him the title after the Former King Ravinstill passed. Coriolanus had fought like hell, clawed himself up from the pits of poverty, to get to this moment. He made sure he did everything right. Carefully coaxed the Electors and their families into thinking he was a friend. Convinced them that he would do right by Panem, do right by the Capital. Honeyed his words at every turn. But he did not care for any of that. All he wanted was to have you by his side, protected against any harm that may come your way. The only thing that stood in his way was the man standing before him. 

Your father stood behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back. Coriolanus barely had gotten the question out when your father said, “You have gone to great lengths to make a name for yourself these last five years.”

And he had. He barely participated in the social seasons beyond speaking to the families in power. Speaking to those who would have sway in his appointment as president when the time came. He made no time for himself. Coriolanus had a goal, and he would be damned if he didn’t meet it. 

“None of it matters if I do not have a powerful woman by my side,” he said. 

Your father let out a chuckle. “She is something, isn’t she? I worry what she might say if I tell her that I’ve given her away without even consulting her.”

The answer was no, Coriolanus realized. Nothing he did would be good enough for this man. “Sir, with all due respect, I will come here every week and ask for her hand. There is nothing in this land I want more. Your daughter is…Everything to me. And I would give her everything just to make her smile. So, please, just tell me what I must do for you to give her away.”

Your father stared for a long, silent moment. “Court her. Properly. Only then will I say yes.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty, still, when he received your hand. 

After a promenade in the square, after a spat where you thought yourself to be little more than a pawn in his game, Coriolanus had come to your father’s office. He could not prove his love to you during this courtship, not when you still thought there was a chance he would change his mind. No, he could only show his love when you knew that he had dedicated everything to marrying you.

Your father stood in front of Coriolanus. He hadn’t even gotten the question out when your father said, “I suppose this will be the last time you come here like this?”

Coriolanus swallowed the proud smirk that dared to cross his face. Finally. Finally a yes. “You can rest assured that she will want for nothing.”

“I don’t doubt it with a man as persistent as you.”

Coriolanus Snow was four and twenty, still yet, as he stood at the altar, watching your father leading you down the altar.

You were a vision in white. Tigris had adorned you in a beautiful gown, white roses embroidered on the skirts and your lacy long sleeves. A veil obscured your face from him, but he was sure you looked like a proper Queen. The sort of woman that would send the proudest of men to their knees. And he would gladly kneel before you. 

You stepped up to the altar alone, your father taking a seat beside your mother. Coriolanus reached for your hand and didn’t let go as you stood in front of him. 

“You look beautiful,” he said. 

“Thank you, Coryo.”

He hoped you were smiling behind the veil. He hoped you were as happy as him. And he was sure you were when you whispered, “Do you think the officiant should faint if you kissed me now?”

Coriolanus laughed so hard that he considered kissing you right then and there before whisking you away to his private chambers, the rest of the ceremony be damned. “You are wicked, petal, for teasing me like this.”

“You take pleasure in it.”

And, oh, how he did. 

Coriolanus never despised events more than when the ton celebrated his marriage while he bided his time to love you the way you deserved. He was tired of entertaining people. It was a beautiful ceremony and even more beautiful reception, to be sure, but Coriolanus could not stand the amount of people approaching him to offer their congratulations. Not, at least, when he was trying to kiss you and dance with you and tell you how he loved you. 

You patted his hand as his knuckles turned white, clutching the arm of his chair, when yet another person came up to speak to him. “You need to relax. The ton is going to think that something is wrong if you keep acting like this.”

“Something is wrong,” he muttered. “I can’t even enjoy my time with my wife because everyone thinks they’re more worthy of my time. Worse yet, not a single one of them has so much as acknowledged you.”

How frustrating that was. Did the ton only think of you of some pretty little thing to hang off the King’s arm? Of course they would be so simple-minded. They did not realize you were the most brilliant person in the room. Perhaps more brilliant than him. They did not realize that you were his Queen and you were worthy of their respect. Oh, how they would learn when you would demand it—because he knew you would.

“And you can make that known later. Coryo, this is a day of celebration. Let them be frivolous today. Remind them of who you are and what that means later.”

Coriolanus released his grip on the chair. He took your hand in his own and rubbed his thumb over your fingers. “Who we are,” he corrected.

“Who we are,” you amended. 

A smile tugged at his lips. “They’ll learn to bow before you.”

“I don’t want anyone to bow before me.”

“What do you want? I would give you anything. All you need do is ask.”

You said nothing. That is, until a new song began to play. You rose from your chair, and Coriolanus followed after you. “I would like to dance.”

Coriolanus led you to the middle of the floor, trying his best to mask his displeasure. He knew you better than to know you want nothing. Your family was well-to-do, but everyone had to be conscious of their spending as the Capital rebuilt itself. It was not lost on Coriolanus that your mother carefully rotated your wardrobe, ensuring that enough time had passed between one time you wore a gown and the next, less the ton realize that your family could not afford to constantly buy new dresses. Tigris had told him how you would come in to have your dresses tailored, how you could always eye the new fabrics she bought. How sometimes you would stay long after the tailoring to watch her design gowns. With him as your husband, Coriolanus would buy you as many gowns as you wanted. He would buy every book you were interested. Hell, he would adopt every cat in Panem and allow you to name them Coriolanus the III, IV, V, and VI and so on if it meant you were satisfied. You might never ask for it, but he would give you the world. 

The ton watched as Coriolanus held onto your hand, the other falling to your waist. The music began to pick up as he spun you ‘round and ‘round and ‘round the floor. All Coriolanus could focus on was you. The rest of the room seemed to melt away. He pulled you closer, your body flush against his. Oh, how he loved you being this close to him. How he could hold you like this and no one could tell him any different.

You didn’t seem to be as captivated as him. With every turn, you would glance over at the crowd, displeasure fighting its way onto your face. 

“Ignore them. They are not worthy of your attention,” Coriolanus murmured. 

“They’re like vultures, waiting to see me, us, trip,” you said.

“Prove them wrong, then.”

“Why should they care about what I say and do? They only view me as an extension of the King now,” you say, your nose wrinkling. 

Coriolanus spared a glance at the crowd. Yes, he supposed they probably did. People in the ton so rarely appreciated true wit. Now that you were his wife, anything remarkable you did would be attributed to him. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Then make then listen. Make them see. Show them the woman I fell in love with.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, petal,” Coriolanus said, his voice a near growl. “You matter to me, and so you shall matter to them.”

You said nothing, much to his ire.

He let out a breath, careful to not lose his temper with you. You didn’t deserve that, not when you were being vulnerable with him. Not when you were finally showing him the parts of you, you kept so artfully hidden. “Tell me, what’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?”

You tore your eyes from the crowd and looked up at Coriolanus. Your mouth opened and, for a second, he thought you might tell him the truth. Instead, you only said, “It doesn’t matter.”

Oh, petal, when would you realize that you were all that mattered?

[bunnysbrainrot]

Vices and Virtues

Kinktober prompt: Threesome

Relationship: Crowley/Castiel x Reader

Content: 18+ only; threesome, unprotected sex, throat fucking, p in v, creampie, degradation, double penetration, oral (f and m receiving)

Summary: After a drunken ramble, an Angel of the Lord, and the King of Hell, both take on your challenge. Turns out, Angels can be just as depraved as demons.

A/N: to make Kinktober a little more exciting, i wanted to go with a pairing that doesn’t happen too often! if you have requests for other characters, let me know!

Angels and demons have been polar opposites for millennia. Before you’d gotten into hunting, discovering what lurks in the dark, you had a basic idea of ‘good’ and ‘evil’. After some time you realized that, surprisingly, angels are dicks. It was something Dean professed every now and again.

Over time, while getting to know both an angel and a demon, it opened your eyes to a morally gray truth. Demons can sometimes have their reasons for raising Hell, sometimes even literally. Angels, despite their reputation in modern religion, weren’t always good.

Both angels and demons have both proven themselves at breaking their stereotypes. Demons weren’t always headstrong about painful torture, and angels cared too little about being ‘perfectly innocent”.

That realization hit you even harder now that you lay sprawled on the bed, with two pairs of eyes staring you down.

You were fully clothed, but with the way these two looked at you, you may as well have been stark naked. Crowley had been utterly silent, shifting glances between you and the angel. Contemplating.

Castiel, who had before been so awkward before, held an air of confidence, looking at you intently and giving a dark nod to Crowley. You sat up fully, crossing your legs as you looked between the two men, though that was a loose term.

“So,” you started, “what’s up?”

Your tone was level, but it didn’t dismiss the blush spread on your face, or the way your hair on your arms stood on end. You’d known precisely how you’d gotten into this situation, and it was all because of a stupid question a few weeks ago.

It was a simple evening for everyone to relax. You, the Winchesters, Crowley, Castiel, and Rowena had been drinking since you’d all gotten home from a long hunt. More like mission, really, but you were all home safe, and one piece. Some parts of that night had become fuzzy, but you couldn’t forget what you’d said to Castiel and Crowley when the others had left, or simply passed out.

“You think angels and demons have ever… heh… done it? Like, together?” Your words slurred together in a drunken stupor.

Castiel had given you a thoughtful look, but stared at the ceiling as he gave an answer.

“It would be possible, though it’s rather confusing. I can’t imagine an angel and demon taking one another into… the bedroom.”

Crowley piped up, “It’s only because our feathery friends think they’re above that. Total prudes, if you ask me.”

“Good thing no one asked you,” Castiel quipped, sipping his drink.

You’d all laughed it off, thinking that was the only time you would talk about it. After all, it was just a hypothetical joke, a drunken ramble.

You’d been wrong about that. It seemed that Crowley and Cas remembered every word and flirty smile you gave them that night. Crowley took a step toward you with his hands tucked behind his back, a smug smile spread across his face.

“I’m sure you recall what you’d said to us back then, about angels and demons, and their time in the bedroom.”

Shit.

You froze, eyes wide up at him while he continued.

“It got me thinking,” Crowley nodded to Castiel, “that it could be more authentic if you had the real experience.”

You reeled over his words, the pit of your stomach grew heavy as you realized just what he meant. Castiel followed Crowley’s lead and stepped toward you, his face still as stone.

“Cas?” you asked, “Are you okay with this?”

He nodded solemnly, “I didn’t know how to… navigate the situation. I was given some help.”

You cocked your head to the side, looking between the two in confusion. Crowley smiled, nodding to the angel.

“I may have given Feathers a little something to, well, help us in this. Our sweet Castiel was feeling shy, so I decided to lend him a hand.”

Castiel rubbed his nose quickly, and it clicked. Crowley must have given him some sort of aphrodisiac for tonight. Castiel shifted on his feet, glancing down to his crotch, assessing when something would kick in.

“Come here, sweetness,” commanded the King of Hell, ushering you over with beckoning fingers. You did as you were told, striding over to the demon.

Crowley cupped your cheek, sweeping his thumb across your cheekbone. His eyes raked over your face, hovering on your lips before he leaned in, planting a soft kiss. You hummed into him, letting out a high moan into his mouth when you felt another warm body from behind.

A set of hands gripped your hips and drew them back, brushing fully against a newly hard Castiel. He ground into you gently as Crowley moved his lips fluidly with your own. A breath caught in your throat when Castiel’s lips found your neck, trained on the soft spot below your ear.

He sucked at your throat, adding a painful pressure that sent heat straight to your core. The marks you would have later would have a complicated explanation, for certain.

You whined softly into Crowley’s mouth, bringing out a deep hum from him. The demon’s hands finally moved down your body, taking their time over your shoulders, down to your chest, and to your waist. He kneaded softly at the supple flesh of your middle. Your head was spinning from the rush, unsure as to which man you should give your attention.

Sometimes, Castiel’s ability to read minds was irritating, but it was your saving grace tonight. His voice creeped over your hot skin as a low growl.

“You’re nervous,” he whispered. “You can’t decide what to do, correct? All I ask is that you breathe. Relax. Let us take care of the rest.”

You let out a bated breath, melting into the two men that kept you from falling apart at their voices. Castiel’s hands wandered to your front and moved upwards to your chest, gently palming your breasts through your shirt. You mewled softly when his fingers brushed over your nipples; he toyed with the hardened buds, rolling them between his fingers.

Crowley slipped under your shirt, pushing it upwards to your collarbone, exposing your aching breasts to the cold air of the room. He dipped his head to your chest, taking claim of a nipple from Castiel, swirling a warm tongue around it. You arched your chest into his touch, stomach tightening with each movement.

There was an air of urgency around you. You needed more, the glorious torture sent you in a tizzy, desperate for attention to your aching sex. Each part of you throbbed in unison, a soft cry for their touch.

“Someone’s growing impatient,” Castiel murmured against your skin. Crowley chuckled in reply before breaking away from you. He stared at you mischievously, snapping his fingers.

In the blink of an eye, your clothes vanished, as did Castiel and Crowley’s. Two thick cocks landed against your body, eager and throbbing with each grind into your nude form. Castiel eased his length against the middle of your ass, pumping himself on you. Crowley ground into you from the front, his heavy length pressed into your stomach.

Every part of you ached in need. To be touched. To be ravaged. To be fully used.

Crowley brought a hand to your neck, pressing firmly on either side to give you that crazed pleasure from lack of air. He urgently crashed his lips to yours as you struggled to breathe. His hand released you from its grip; the blood rushing back in had you panting, a sloppy smile on your face as you ogled the demon.

It was Castiel’s hands that were more greedy, to your surprise. He took his time groping your ass, your hips, your breasts.

“Seems that our angel appreciates your looks just as much as I do,” Crowley purred against your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You shivered at the air that blew across your skin, bucking your hips into Castiel’s length.

Crowley pulled you with him as he neared the bed, Castiel wasn’t far behind, pumping his cock with a fervent hand.

You sat on the edge of the bed. Crowley gently kissed your jaw, reaching your ear.

“Lay down, darling.”

Crawling to the top of the bed, you laid your head against the pillows. Castiel stood to your right, now making his way toward you. The bed dipped as both men came to your side, splitting up and moving to each end of your body.

Crowley trailed his tongue along your thigh, nipping your skin along the way. You reached upward to Cas, carding your fingers into his hair before tugging him down to you, pressing your lips to his.

As if it were lock and key, Castiel quickly took you over, kissing you with unmatched passion. His hands found your chest as they’d done before, twisting your nipple to bring out another high-pitched whine into his mouth.

Your legs were being urged apart, spread completely before Crowley, who awed at the sight of your wet slit, pulsing with each heartbeat and inviting entry. He dipped lower, nestling comfortably between your legs. His tongue jutted out and licked a wide stripe through your folds. Your hips bucked onto his tongue as it passed over your clit.

Castiel pulled away, “Does this feel good?”

The angel, as always, cared about you deeply. Your pleasure was his responsibility tonight, and he wanted to make sure he and Crowley were delivering the best service to you.

You nodded, gasping when Crowley wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking the swollen bud while his tongue flicked across the bundle of nerves. You needed more. To touch them.

Until now, you’d been so quickly overcome with pleasure you’d lost all sense to return the favor. You reached toward Cas blindly, finding his cock and wrapping your hand firmly around the shaft. He grunted as you pumped him with a tight grip, brushing your thumb over the head of his cock, now slick with precum.

You twisted your top half to face him, gripping the back of Castiel’s thigh and pulling him closer. His cock prodded your cheek before your tongue guided him into your mouth, swirling around the tip. He shuddered, bucking his hips eagerly into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head on his length, pushing yourself lower and lower until the head of his cock slammed into the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” Castiel cursed, paired with a low moan He stared in amazement as you worked on him, the way your lips looked better wrapped around him. An image he knew would never leave his mind.

Crowley drew your attention back to him, pressing a finger to your slick entrance, dipping in with ease. He curled the digit to brush your g-spot, sending a wave of heat across your skin. You moved your hips on his finger, whining around Castiel’s cock in your effort to get more pressure.

“Not a good… angle,” Castiel said gruffly. He pulled himself from your mouth, a string of spit showing you just how sloppy you’d gotten. Crowley broke his mouth away from your pussy, his fingers still pumping into you as Castiel took hold of your shoulders.

The angel tugged you sideways and backwards. Your head hung off the side of the bed, directly in front of Castiel’s thighs. His cock thumped against your jaw, a silent command to open your mouth. You slacked your jaw to allow him in, sucking him greedily.

He cradled your head in his hands, thrusting his hips into your mouth, the head of his cock hit the back of your throat with more ease this time. From this angle, he could fully use your throat, warm and tight.

“Good,” cooed the angel, shoving himself further into your mouth, “Good girl, open up.”

Your mouth had never felt more full, now being stuffed by Castiel’s dick. Tears stung in your eyes, falling past your cheeks and into your hair. You gagged on his length, barely finding a second to breathe. Cas stilled and pulled out of your mouth, patting your cheek lightly.

“Take a breath,” he instructed.

It was hard to do so when there was a demon’s fingers buried in your cunt. You cried out when Crowley’s pace quickened, with the tension in your abdomen you could hardly breathe at all.

Crowley shifted himself into his knees, leaning over to watch your expression as he pounded his fingers against your walls. You gaped up at him, straining your neck to watch his smile grow as an orgasm took you over wholly. Blinding white light clouded your vision as you clenched around his fingers.

Between your soft whimpers, Crowley praised you, “That’s a good girl. You look so beautiful like this.”

You relished in the praise, eagerly opening your mouth for Castiel once again. He pushed himself past your lips, striking the back of your mouth and easing into you slowly, filling your throat. He thrusted slowly at first, but quickly lost himself in the tightness of your throat, his hips hurting harshly into your mouth. You gagged loudly around him, but it went ignored. Castiel kept his relentless pace, glancing to Crowley and giving him a nod.

As he fucked your throat, Crowley positioned himself at your soaked folds, pressing the thick tip of his cock against your swollen clit. You cry out around Cas’s cock, drowned out by a harsh gag when he shoved himself in fully. He eased out of you as Crowley eased himself in, their movements in tandem with one another.

Hissing through gritted teeth, Crowley stretched you inch by inch, snapping his hips into yours as he bottomed out. You’d never though someone could be filled so easily, to feel like both ends of your body would be split right down the middle.

Crowley moved slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Castiel let up his movements, staring longingly at your pussy, now wrapped nicely around the demon’s cock. If there was a good word for how he felt, it would be jealousy.

The angel grew frustrated, a new wave of sadistic pleasure taking him over.

He smacked your cheek, “I’m not done.”

You opened your mouth dutifully, moaning around his cock. He kept his pace slow this time, giving your throat some well-needed relief. You wound your tongue around the head when he pulled from you, sucking harshly around his tip, bringing out a soft whimper. His hips sputtered slightly before he quickly pulled back, breathing heavily.

“Careful, Castiel,” Crowley teased, pulling you down onto his cock. “Keep going like that, you’ll disappoint our little toy, here.”

Castiel glared at the demon. His chest heaved with his heavy breaths, trying to recollect himself before going further. He lifted your shoulders and adjusted you back onto the bed. Crowley kept himself buried deep in your stretched pussy, jutting his hips to strike deeper and crash against your cervix.

There was no way you could disappointed this night. Not with the way your body was being taken advantage of, in the best way imaginable. You clenched down onto Crowley’s length, making him groan at the tightness of your walls. They fluttered around him as another climax crept up. With a few quick thrusts, the demon had you falling apart on his cock.

He laughed softly, “Slutty little thing, getting spit roasted like that. Two cocks using you until you’re all filled up.”

Crowley kept your gaze as he pounded into you, his balls slapping against your ass with every deep thrust. The noises coming from your pussy were wet, sloppy, and utterly divine. It was just what Crowley needed to hear, to know he was doing his job right.

A pair of lips found yours once again, moving smoothly against you as you shuddered around Crowley again. The shockwaves of your orgasm were hardly over before Crowley pulled his length out of your sweet cunt, stretched and aching to be filled again.

“Let’s have you on your knees, kitten,” Crowley directed, lifting you up to a sitting position. His gaze softened as he looked you over. Castiel gave you a concerned look.

“Is this still okay for you?” the angel asked, eyes keening for your answer.

You nodded quickly, looking between the two men, “Of course. It’s wonderful. I was wondering if… well…” you trailed off.

Crowley lifted your chin to look at him, “Use your words, princess.”

Biting your lips, you thought about how to phrase the words. You looked sheepishly between them, “I was wondering if you could take turns. From behind, I mean.”

A darkness pooled in his eyes at the thought. To use you so freely was a blessing he’d realized he went so long without. After this, he hoped you’d remember who you belonged to this night, whose names you would be screaming.

Crowley backed up, allowing you room to position yourself. You crept toward the edge of the bed, ass up in the air, your sore pussy in full view for them. They both approached you, gazing at the lewd sight before them. You pathetically ground your hips into nothing, your hole and clit being neglected as they took their time.

“Tell me, sweetheart, who’s this?” Crowley asked lowly. A cock sat at your entrance, teasing your hole before easing inside, stretching you out slowly. You were fucked slowly, letting your body adjust and asses the feeling. Hips snapped into yours, the cock crashing against your cervix. These movements felt different from before. The length still filled you, but not as it had done with Crowley.

“Cas… Castiel,” you whimpered.

“Smart girl,” Castiel said from behind. He rolled his hips into you, sending his cock deep into your pussy. A familiar wetness leaked from you down to your clit, completely soaked in your slick. Castiel eased himself into you until he reached the hilt of his length, stilling inside of you, processing the way your walls wrapped around him, slick and hot.

Ready to be used.

His hips crashed into you without warning. You bit into the sheets as you cried through gritted teeth. Castiel fucked you mercilessly, his balls smacking against your clit and sending shocks of pleasure to your heat, wrapping ever tighter around the angel’s cock. He grunted in response, landing a blow to your ass. A wide pink handprint now decorated your skin, followed by a series of other blows to deepen the rosy color.

Crowley tapped Castiel on the shoulder. You overheard him talking to the angel between your cries of ecstasy.

“Fill that cunt to the brim, Castiel. Use that hole properly.”

On command, Castiel’s thrusts became harsher, more frantic. His thick cock stretched your walls with each movement as he slammed himself into your cervix. Your stomach tightened as you came around him, letting out a loud cry of his name into the sheets.

Quickly undone, Castiel felt a rush over him when you said his name. His thrusts faltered again, cock twitching as he spilled his load into you. He pushed deeper as he finished, fucking his cum deeper inside of your cunt.

Crowley smiled at this, smirking to the angel. “Bred like the perfect little bitch. Good work, Castiel.”

Sweat pooled at Castiel’s brow, streaking down his face as he composed himself, regaining his breath. He looked to Crowley with a drained look before pulling from you. You whined as he left you empty.

Castiel resigned to the bed, flopping back to lay by your side. He shifted to brace himself on his arm, stroking a hand through your hair. Little praises flowed from him while Crowley lined himself with your entrance.

“You’re doing so wonderfully, sweetheart.”

You gave him a lazy smile, exhausted from the toll he’d taken on you. Your attention snapped back when you felt the head of Crowley’s cock press at your pussy, coated with what of Castiel’s cum had dripped out of you. He gripped the base of his cock and eased into you as he’d done before, filling you up deeper from this angle.

After a moment he was fully settled in, feeling your warmth around his length. Crowley groaned lowly as he began to thrusts, achingly slow at first.

Hardly done, and you were sore, to say the least. The internal battle of your soreness, versus the sweet sensation of a cock filling you, could never be won. You pushed your hips onto his length, smacking softly against his hips. In reply, Crowley harshly gripped your hips and began to pick up his pace.

Each moan was a symphony, a song of whines and groans that could only be one thing.

Pure, frenzied pleasure.

You arched your back when Castiel’s hands roamed over your perk nipples, fondling each breast as best he could given the angle. You hoisted yourself up on your elbows to grant him permission to go further. His calloused hands ran across your chest to your face, cupping it gently while he watched your expression contort with each deep thrust.

Castiel smiled warmly as you cried out Crowley’s name, unable to move from the grip the angel had on you. His eyes were glued to yours. He wouldn’t dare miss a second of this.

After he’d felt you before, Crowley was just as easily spellbound by the way you took him. Each thrust pulled him further to the edge of his own orgasm, but he was intent on drawing another one from you before he did so.

“Who does this belong to?” Crowley’s voice was soft as the finest silk.

At this point, each sensation rolling through you left you gasping, all rationale had left you completely.

You dumbly whimpered out a reply, “You… both of you.”

Crowley snapped his hips into yours, setting his cock impossibly deep inside your pussy. His pace was, arguably, more intense than Castiel’s, ravaging you whole as you shuddered around him. Your climax tore through you like lightning - your vision blurred, eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“Smart girl. You’ll get your reward very soon,” Crowley said sweetly.

Your clenched down onto him, smiling to yourself when you felt the King’s cock twitch inside of you. Crowley breathed haggardly but remained intent on his brutal pace, stretching every warm inch of your cunt to fit his cock perfectly.

Castiel’s lips caught your own, swallowing the sweet sounds you made when Crowley’s thrusts began to grow sloppy. Crowley slammed himself into you once, twice, three times until his own orgasm hit him. He slowed his movements as his own released spilled inside of you, coating your tight cunt in his cum - a reward for your obedience.

He pulled from you slowly, his drained cock hanging heavily at your ass. Warmth flooded over you as cum leaked from your pussy, staining the sheets beneath you. You lowered yourself to sit on your knees. What all had been resting inside of your sex was still flowing out of you - it was it’s own reward for being of service to these two men, after all.

Castiel presented a newly-summoned washcloth, warm and damp to the touch. He left it up to you to clean yourself before snapping his fingers, cleaning himself entirely.

“Oh, please, Cas. Where are your manners?” Crowley said, snapping.

In an instant you were fully clean and dry, melting into the mattress with a sigh. Crowley’s clothes had come back, as did Castiel’s a moment later. The two men sat your side, looking over you with pure endearment.

“I certainly hope that that was okay,” whispered Crowley, carding his fingers through your hair. You nodded, groggily shifting yourself to sit up with them. Each movement reminded you of how sore you’d be tomorrow. Regardless, it was an unforgettable experience you’d think about for a very, very long time.

With another snap of his fingers, Crowley handed you a set of thick, cozy pajamas, paired with fuzzy socks. You smiled at him, thankful that he valued your comfort.

“Are you sore at all?” Castiel piped up.

You nodded, “It’s okay, though. I like it.”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, “Humans are strange… some of you like being in pain. It is a foreign concept.”

“We could make it not-so-foreign, if you’d like,” Crowley retorted. Castiel simply rolled his eyes instead of the signature glare. You shuffled into your pajamas and sat back on the bed.

Neither the angel nor the demon left your side, instead leaning back into the bed with you.

“Staying?” you asked, “I was going to put on a movie.”

Castiel powered on the TV, “Take your pick.”

[tiktaalic]

Can u translate this Taylor swift stuff into supernatural so I can understand?

Ummmmm. Ok. Imagine supernatural used to make real bangers and it took years to make this happen like 5 year hiatuses etc. but it was Good. It was winning Emmys rightfully. It was critic praised. And then they announce a new season and it’s the worst thing you e ever heard. Start to finish the WORST thing you’ve ever heard with one glimmering star. Imagine a season that’s like. Dog dean afternoon. Bloodlines. Bugs. And you go. God damn I can never watch this again. And then there’s a web release short released after the finale. The finale that was bugs. And the short released online is the man who would be king. So. The ratio is quite bad but it IS a mixed bag. This part of the metaphor is about midnights. Now. This season of supernatural? A flop. Obviously. Clearly. You go. Well! It’s over. You are disrespecting the integrity of supernatural. But Normal Viewers loveeeeee it it’s getting great Nielsens it’s pushing boxsets. And you feel crazy. Because it’s bad. And then on the heels of this they announce supernatural world tour. And you go ok surely they’re going to take time off from writing new supernatural because of this year long tour they’re busy with. And then they go guess what. We ARE writing more supernatural. And they do. And it’s. Not good. Like it’s not a season long string of bugs like the last season was. But it’s a long season of episodes where nothing happens and nothing stands out and it’s all shot like visual filler and written like they just need to get any old ep out. It’s episode after episode of bog standard motw with no character work or chiaroscuro over misha collins face it’s all padding the whole thing. Which is technically. An improvement over the last season of garbage. But still very much not good. This is . Ttpd

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Patience

Thomas Disch: neil in the good omens game, is there a way to escape the dungeon without using the wizard's key? Neil Gaiman: ah! a very good question! Clive Barker: what? that's a terrible question Gaiman: ah but there are NO bad questions, clive Gaiman: curiosity is the rain that waters the seed of knowledge

Debbie Dadey: um excuse me sir neil gaiman but in Good Omens S2E42 aziraphale is shown performing the musubi dachi stance, but everyone knows that angels don't know karate Dadey:[pushing glasses up nose] i sure hope someone was fired for THAT blunder Gaiman: ah! a fine observation, thank you for sharing! Gaiman: so great to communicate with astute readers!

Gaiman: [putting gold star sticker on Dadey's forehead] i'm giving you a gold star for that Gaiman: in fact Gaiman: you all get gold stars! Koontz: oo! i want a gold star Gaiman: [putting gold star sticker on Koontz's forehead] and so you shall!

King: incredible! nothing flusters him! Poe: he's unflappable King: like the world's most patient kindergarten teacher Barker: no way, i don't buy it Barker: nobody's THAT patient Barker: i bet i could get him to snap Poe: clive

Barker: hey neil i've got a question Gaiman: yes? Barker: actually Barker:this is more of a comment than a question Gaiman: [sweating, veins in neck pulsing] ah yes, go on Poe: clive that's going too far

Neil Gaiman: you see dean Gaiman: you can see anything, do anything Gaiman: BE anything Gaiman: without ever leaving home! Dean Koontz: wowwww Gaiman: all you have to do is use your super power Koontz: my super power?? Gaiman: yes Gaiman: it's called Gaiman: IMAGINATION!!

Ray Bradbury: it was many years yonder when the open spaces were open and the blue skies were blue, and soda pop cost just a nickel and if you didn't have a nickel a smile would do, when you could see marshmallow dragons and candy corn castles in the clouds and you could do it all with the power of Dean Koontz: oh yeah imagination, i already know that Bradbury: and- what Koontz: yeah, neil gaiman told me Bradbury:

Ray Bradbury: listen neil i hear you've been going around extolling the power of imagination Neil Gaiman: ah imagination! the poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release- Bradbury: zip it bud Bradbury: there's ONE dream weaver in this town and that's me Bradbury: the limitless vista of a child's imagination ain't big enough for the both of us!!!

Bradbury: i have more child-like whimsy in my little finger, gaiman! Bradbury: and i will use it to paint a rainbow of nostalgic vibes that will have you crying! Bradbury: come at me, neil!! i'll make your childhood fuckin' magical!

Gaiman: wonderful, brilliant! just an excellent threat Gaiman: the craftsmanship of it was sublime, you should be very proud, ray Bradbury: Bradbury: are you Bradbury: are you being sarcastic? Poe: i don't think he knows how

Bradbury: you're so genuine, i can't stay mad at you Gaiman: perhaps, ray, there is room in the world of imagination for the both of us Gaiman: in fact, maybe there's room for ALL who seek to fly on the wings of a shared dream!