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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 1 year ago

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...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ on this unholy wednesday we explore the unsafe and the insane, but we stay in the realm of consensual — for now ∼

∼ day three brings us our beloved headmistress ♥ Larissa Weems ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

tags: #foot fetish #face-fucking #stiletto heels #high heels #heel blow job #toe sucking #degradation #degradation kink #verbal humiliation #humiliation #toxic relationship #unhealthy relationships #dom/sub #masturbation #orgasm denial #orgasm delay #mistress/slave undertones #mean!larissa weems #dom!larissa weems #kink!week

pathetic (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

“Pathetic.” Larissa’s voice is tainted with disgust. She smushes your cheek with the sole of her red stiletto pump. “You’re only fit to be dirt under my shoe.”

You whimper, and she presses on your face harder. “I know you get off on this, slut. I bet you’re wet right now.”

It’s true — and you’re so ashamed, but you don’t want her to stop. You press your thighs together, wanting to give yourself some sort of relief, and she immediately notices. In a swift move, she removes her foot from your face and kicks your legs apart, then jams the pointy toe of her pump against your pussy — hard. You wince in pain and take in a sharp breath, but you don’t cry out — she forbade you to speak beforehand.

“You disgust me,” she spits out. Her nose scrunches as she says it, and you hate yourself because you can’t stop thinking about how attractive she looks when her face is twisted with disgust for you.

She moves her foot away from your crotch and walks away, heels clicking on the wooden floor of her office — and then the sound stops. You can’t see where exactly she is because you’re lying on the floor, facing the ceiling.

“Crawl.”

You immediately get on all fours. Your pussy aches where she hit you, your knees burn as they press against the hard floor, and you can feel how wet you are as you crawl. You think how pathetic you must look — crawling on all fours in her office, clad only in your now completely soaked underwear. You know she’ll make you stay in those for the rest of the day.

She’s leaning against her desk, her legs crossed at the ankles, staring down at you like a queen looking down upon a worthless servant. You take her in, your mouth watering as your gaze wanders from her beautiful face to her elegant neck, then to her small breasts and the soft curve of her belly, to her wide hips and her thick thighs pulling the dress taut.

“Who gave you permission to gawk? Eyes at my feet.”

You immediately obey. Her feet and calves look delectable in red pumps that match her lips and nails. You fix your gaze onto them as you crawl to her, stopping at her feet.

“Lie down on your back. You can look at me now.”

You do as you’re told. “That’s it. Roll over like a fucking dog.”

She pokes your cheek with her stiletto heel, softly at first, then pressing harder — so hard it hurts. “I could just do this all day and you’d be grateful for the attention. Such a needy, worthless whore.”

She brings the heel of her shoe to your lips. “Suck.”

You start sucking on the thin heel as she pushes it in and out of your mouth.

“You love having your mouth fucked, don’t you, slut?” she says, her voice growing husky with lust. You suck on the heel harder, taking it deeper into your mouth — as much of it as you can. She lets out a quiet gasp, as if she can feel it. “That’s it, take all of it.”

She fucks your mouth slowly and deeply, pushing the heel in so far that you gag, and then pulling out almost all the way. You lick and suck on it fervently. Your back hurts from lying on the hardwood floor, but you pay it no mind — all your attention is solely focused on the goddess above you.

You watch her, mesmerised, as she abuses your mouth. She looks beautiful, her chest slightly heaving, her cherry red lips parted, her eyes dark with desire. You never break eye contact — not even as tears blur your vision when you gag on her heel. You just can’t get enough of her blue eyes and the lust reflected in them.

She starts going faster, breathing hard as she pushes the heel in and out, her movements growing more urgent by the second until suddenly she pulls the heel fully out of your mouth with a wet pop. With her other foot, she quickly kicks the shoe off. It tumbles to the ground next to your head. You notice her toenails are also painted the same red as her pumps.

She forces all of her toes inside of your mouth and continues to fuck your mouth with her bare foot, making you drool and whimper. You lick and suck on her toes, trying to take in as much of her as you can, and she moans and grips the table harder.

“Suck on each toe,” she breathes out.

You take her big toe in your mouth first, sucking on it hard, and she draws in a sharp breath. You take your time worshipping each toe and soon she starts letting out soft moans, and then she’s lifting up her skirt and slipping her hand between her legs. She starts rubbing her clit as you continue to reverently suck on her toes.

“Tongue out,” she commands, then pulls her toes out and pushes the sole of her foot over your open mouth, rubbing it on your tongue. “Fuck yes,” she says through gritted teeth, moving her foot faster and faster, rubbing her sole back and forth over your tongue, smushing your face and hitting your nose with her toes.

Her movements are growing more and more frantic — she frenetically slides her foot over your face and feverishly rubs her clit. The air is filled with your soft whimpers, her moans, and the slick sound of her wetness.

“Suck,” she then says and pushes her toes back in your mouth, her voice breathy with lust. “I wanna fuck your face when I come.”

You lick and suck on her toes as she starts rubbing her clit even faster. “You love it when I fuck your face with my foot, hm? Suck, don’t stop,” she pants out. “Pathetic slut, only good for having your face fucked — ah! — fucking dirt under my feet — mmm, fuck—” she cries out, pushing herself over the edge, pressing her thighs together as her belly muscles contract and her brows furrow, her mouth opening in a silent cry.

You continue sucking and licking until she pulls her toes out of your mouth. She gently rubs her pussy through the aftershocks, watching you with hooded eyes, as she smears your own saliva all over your face with her foot. When she comes down from her high, she removes her foot from your face and pulls her discarded heel closer with her toes, before sliding her foot inside of it again.

You lie on the floor, waiting for further instruction. Your back aches, your pussy throbs, and your panties are absolutely soaked. You can still feel the salty aftertaste of her foot in your mouth — you adore it.

You’ve been so good. You hope she will reward you with an orgasm — at least let you get yourself off. However, she pays no attention to you as she pulls her dress back down over her thighs, smoothing it, nor as she grabs the disinfectant from her desk and rubs it over her hands. She leaves you lying on the floor as she circles her desk, heels clicking. You can hear her sitting down in her chair.

“Mistress?” you ask.

“Did I say you could speak?”

“But—”

Her phone rings.

“Hello, Principal Weems speaking,” she answers, voice perfectly level and professional, as if she didn’t just come all over her fingers with her foot in your mouth.

You lie on the floor, listening to her talk on the phone. It’s taking forever, and you’re in pain, and still so incredibly aroused and frustrated. However, you don’t move — you wait for her to tell you what to do.

After a torturously long time, she gets up from her desk, walks around it, and then stands above you, phone in her hand. You hear someone talk on the other end of the line, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. You catch her gaze and give her a pleading look, but she only gestures with her perfectly manicured arm, for you to get lost.

“But—” you start, but she gives you a look that makes you immediately get up from the floor and scurry towards the pile of your discarded clothes. You dress, stealing glances at her, but she pays no mind to you. She’s still talking on the phone, saying the occasional “yes” and “of course” while absentmindedly nodding.

Once fully dressed, you walk to her desk, your panties uncomfortably wet and sticky with every step you make. You stand next to her chair, trying to get her attention. She ignores you for a bit, and then finally deigns to eye you up and down, a disinterested look in her eyes.

“Yes,” she says to the person on the other end of the line as she grabs a piece of paper and a pen from her desk. “We can discuss that at the parents’ conference next Thursday.”

She scribbles down on the paper. When she’s done, she pushes it towards you. She waits a couple of seconds for you to read it.

Tomorrow, 7pm sharp. Don’t touch yourself until then. Stay in these knickers until the end of the day. If you disobey, I’ll know.

She then turns towards the window in her office chair, not sparing you another glance, taking the paper and crushing it in her fist. You know she will burn it later — destroy the evidence of your shameful rendezvous.

You leave her office with a knot in your stomach. It’s nothing new — you feel terrible every time. Your relationship is sick and twisted and toxic, and you know you should end it. You could end it if you wanted to. She wouldn’t want the scandal of it all. She’d leave you alone if you threatened to report her.

If only you didn’t crave it so much.

You know one day you’ll grow tired of it — however, that day is not today, and it isn’t tomorrow either, for you show up at her office at 7pm sharp, like she told you.

“Pathetic,” she spits while you massage her feet, and then repeats it later after she lets you get off by humping her shoe.

You agree with her.

��̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

♥ big thanks to @opheliauniverse for beta reading ♥

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!) : @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz @bbykens

#kink!week #7 days of kink #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems smut #larissa weems x y/n #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it #gwendoline christie

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newbornwhumperfly · 4 months ago

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with a minimum of interference...

this was a very exciting project for me, so i had to make it so, so sad 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 for this @whumpmasinjuly prompt - day 28: fill a whump prompt - i chose this beautiful prompt (self-imposed sleep deprivation) by @teine-mallaichte 😍😍😍 please forgive me in advance for turning into some heartbreaking backstory material for my boy morja...💔💔💔

CW: sleep deprivation, childhood neglect, accidental parentification trauma via latchkey kid syndrome, childhood poverty, oops it's all so sad folks please proceed with emotional caution <333

title insp. by this concept art quote by jenny holzer - “when you’ve been someplace for awhile, you acquire the ability to be practically invisible. This lets you operate with a minimum of interference.”

Makuahine was supposed to be home already. 9 PM, maybe later. She said it would be at nine. I'm sorry, Morja, I hope to be back as soon as I can from work, okay? It is eleven, beaming in the dark of the kitchen, and Morja is still waiting.

It isn’t bad that she isn’t here at ten. Sometimes…it takes longer, sometimes. That’s what jobs are like. Morja knows that the buses are long and that sometimes work is longer than Maku thinks because bosses say stuff that's different, all the time, and that's a job.

He’s not stupid. He’s able to understand. He's smart and responsible and knows money has to happen.

And still, even with money and obeying and jobs and taking care of the apartment and of Lehua, his eyes are itchy and burning.

In the small walls, the hum of wires is quieter, the lights off, the small space all shadows. There’s so little space to walk around, just seven steps to the wall, seven steps to the other wall, where he can touch the buzzing fridge, the cold tiny sink, the table squished into the corner.

Walk to the door.

The latch, closed. The lock, turned. The other chair pushed under the handle, jammed up tight, secure.

Morja walks to the corner by the door and, quiet, slow, rearranges the toys again. The little squishy floor-mat of blue and yellow stars was folded small, the little plastic basket had every toy stacked up. But maybe the trucks should go on the bottom and the soft toys on top.

Trucks. Then the beanbag toys, laid in a row, little bunny, little cat, little dog. No, f-o-x. The two squishy stars. The big plastic ball on top. Neat, nice. Maku will be happy the corner is clean! He swept the floor with his little broom and got all the dust, even the tiny gritty bits, in the can.

Morja likes when it is clean too.

Stand up, knees and shoulders making the crackle noise, sore neck, rubbing his eyes again and his back hurts from bending. Walk quiet, so quiet, to the bedroom to check on Lehua. She cried and cried and was mad that Morja wasn’t Maku. Needed to be carried, wailing, until his arms hurt too much to hold her, hearing thumps and yells from the wall behind the kitchen at very loud screams.

Morja doesn’t scream. He could. He could scream if he wanted but he’s too old for screaming.

Lehua’s face is pink and clean on her tiny pillow, because Morja played and played and read and read the little book with its cracking spine and bright pictures and by the time she fell asleep, her cheeks were scrubbed from the snot and tears by the washcloth, snuggly and soft, and Morja did a good job.

The light through the blinds makes orange stripes over the tiny body, snuffling, curled around her blanket. Morja is extra quiet when he kneels next to the mattress to touch her head.

Not hot.

Morja blows out, soft, cause that’s good. This mattress is so soft, bigger than his, with springy bounce. He knows he’s small for his mattress but this one is just nicer, wider, more room for stretching.

Morja pillows his cheek on the mattress, his nose just so close to Lehua’s balled-up fist, and her chest rises and falls. Sometimes Morja lays awake and watches, when he can’t fall asleep. Watches Maku breathe, the weird rasping wet noise it makes, like a gasp. Watches Lehua breathe, so small it’s sometimes hard to tell it’s happening.

Morja doesn’t like that kind of breathing, the air that happens when you’re sick.

The mattress is soft under his cheek.

Not so scratchy.

No, c’mon, get up. Keep watch. It’s not Morja sleep-time.

Morja wants to keep the lights on, because, well, he knows he has work. Brightness will help. But it’s so important not to keep the lights on too much cause of money. He chews his lip, thinking. The school has given him pages to practice his language skills, he thinks the tall pale man with a pale shirt and pale hair said. Pale sheets of paper in his hands and so, so many lines.

Even when it’s dark and there’s a throb behind his eyes, Morja can still be helpful and finish these lines for tomorrow. If he shoves himself into the very corner of the wall, where the bad-wet-smell of the room is strongest, a strong streetlight pokes through slats of window-blinds.

It’s orange and white and burns in a way that thumps the inside of his head. But it’s bright enough to see the paper. Black lines thump against his eyeballs, neck sore as it bends low to the paper, one fingertip tracing.

What is the right answer to a stranger asking “how are you?” 1. “I am good, thank you.” 2. “I am good, how are you?” 3. “I am good.”

The clock on the top of the stove beeps, red and gleaming through the grills.

12.00 AM

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Morja huffs through his teeth and rests his head against the wall. The stink and the hum makes his head throb harder but it keeps him up. Pangs shoot through his belly and his hand, sore, thumb and finger raw and indented-red from holding his pen, rubs over his stomach. Hungry is good, it keeps him- he can stay awake if he thinks about eating and how Maku will have maybe a snack from one of the late-car-places.

Dry noodles and powder rattling in a box.

S-t-a-t-e.

Meat in strips, hard and dry and hot.

R-a-e-t-e-a.

Chocolate in shiny wrapping, crunchy nuts and sweet goo and soft fluff, that is so rare.

N-e-w A-t-h-e-n-s.

Salt and sugar and butter and stuff that isn't on the list of what's allowed that Maku takes to the store.

1:00 AM.

Swimming black letters. Orange paper. Icky smell. Head hurts.

Maybe if he closed his eyes for a second.

But what if- Morja grunts and digs his fingers into the burn, sniffing hard. What if the door’s locked and Maku can’t come in? What if Lehua rolls off the bed? What if there’s a fire?

What if something bad happened?

It’s the ache, like being hungry but worse, that keeps Morja up, more than his head hurting or his eyes itching or his butt and his legs getting sharp prickles. The what if thudding in his small chest, keeping his heart fast and his eyes watery. The worry keeps him awake, keeps him doing a good job, the worry helps.

By the time the sky gets oranger than the streetlamps and the chain rattles in return, Morja has learned how to keep the stomachache constant. By the time it is safe to lay down, he passes the hours to school with his hands over his stomach, the sharpness in his belly, in his chest, pressing, pressing, pressing. By the time he doesn’t need it anymore, it sticks.

By the time he turns in his papers, clean and white and perfect, Morja learns more than one lesson to be perfect at.

so sincerely hope you enjoy what i've done with your excellent prompt, @teine-mallaichte!!! 😭🥰💖🥺

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @haro-whumps @whump-tr0pes @whumpzone @i-eat-worlds

@whumpthisway @whumping-every-day @whump-me-all-night-long @liliability @stoic-whumpee

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight @whumpster-draganies @scoundrelwithboba @kixngiggles

@redwingedwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @straight-to-the-pain @wolfeyedwitch @tears-and-lilies

have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly everyone! 💖💖💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

#brace yourselves for more of morja's sad childhood oops sorry everyoneeeeeeee. more Fun Whump soon! 😭😭😭😭😩😩😩😩#morja #morja and company #my writing #wij24day28 #whumpmasinjuly2024 #whump #minor whump #emotional whump #angst #sleep deprivation #exhaustion #parentification trauma #childhood trauma #trauma #whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker

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rottingbah · 5 months ago

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ROTTING BUILD - A - HEADMATE !!

hello chat . call me ty or zizi . i'm a troll here to give you headmates . nothing more , nothing less .

below is some more information regarding that . have fun .

policies & such .

1. fictives from sources not specified from the list will either be denied all - together or be kinda shit . i won't be familiar with their source , so . . . 2. use please & thank you . common courtesy is appreciated . 3. i have depression and barely ever have motivation . requests may take a while .

form . an * = not required .

*name ; *prns ; *source ; *role ; *transids ; *cisids ; *misc ;

you may notice literally nothing is required . i enjoy the process of making shit up .

accepted sources . long list incoming . . .

erin hunter , hoyoverse games ( except tears of themis ) , slime rancher ( 1 & 2 ) , splatoon ( 1 & 2 & 3 ) , pokemon , obey me ! , ALTER EGO , cookie run , twisted wonderland , project sekai , muse dash , wuthering waves , undertale , deltarune , our life ( beginnings and always & now and forever ) , death and taxes , doki doki literature club , omori , the stanley parable , monster prom ( camp , & con ) , animal jam , fran bow , little misfortune , five nights at freddy's , the coffin of andy and leyley , oneshot , hiveswap , hazbin hotel , helluva boss , my hero academia , kamisama kiss , k - on ! , the amazing world of gumball , ouran highschool host club , little witch academia , the disastrous life of saiki k , ado , will stetson , mafumafu , ghost and pals , bo burnham , penelope scott , rio romeo , mitski , kikuo , sparkbird , maretu , mother mother , will wood , insane clown posse , melanie martinez , homestuck

tags .

#shut up zizi . - non - BAH posts . my ramblings . #actually headmates . - posting headmates . #incessant screaming . - asks .

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libellule-ao3 · 2 years ago

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Life Links

9. Annie Thorn (MC)/ Brother

Summary: An impromptu visit interrupts Annie's final preparations before the battle.

⚠️Warning: Alcohol use. ⚠️

Chapter index - previous chapter (Jae Kim) - next chapter (Diego Caplan)

Alone.

Her boyfriend is safe in Ireland. She sent her partner to France, and her brother has abandoned her... Again.

Annie checks her equipment and buckles her bag. Through the window, her gaze wanders over an indistinct horizon in the night. Indistinct. Like her future.

When was the last time she asked herself what would become of her?

The answer that comes to her clenches her heart. It was at the beginning of her Auror training, after she had known passion. The one that consumes you until you leave only a heart in ashes.

The witch had to rebuild it, piece by piece. During this time, Annie and Jae were everything to each other. In turn, partners, lovers, friends, a bit of all of this at the same time and so much more... He has always been there, never letting her storms and shipwrecks push him away, and for seven years, they experienced everything together.

Jae deserves to be happy, to embrace a companion more joyful than loneliness. That’s why Annie did everything she could to ensure him a bright future with Penny, regardless of the outcome of the Battle.

Her mind drifts to Sam, her boyfriend whom she learned to love deeply after having given in to his advances out of spite. When she asked him to leave England because she could not fight without being sure of his safety, he obeyed without complaining about being left out. Because he believes in her, and that confidence is worth its weight in gold.

After the war, maybe she could talk about marriage... By making sure that the idea comes from him, of course!

“I miss you,”

But not as much as Jacob. They haven’t seen each other for months and he’s already disappeared. As usual. He disappears, she looks for him; they find each other and he runs off into the unknown. Oh, never for the sake of hurting her. A goal always justifies his actions. A goal more noble and ambitious than staying by her side. Always. She exhales her tension with a sigh and pours herself a glass of Firewhisky, which she drinks in one gulp, alcohol burning her bitterness.

She’ll kick his ass when they win.

The witch clenches her fists. Projecting herself into the future will strengthen her resolve to survive in a succession of battles where every wizard who falls under her spells will ensure her survival and everyone else’s. She hopes not to have to fight Barnaby or Ismelda.

A cracking sound startles her. She turns around, drawing her wand and putting it away. It’s Jacob. A shower and clean clothes, and he is back at his best. Only his face keeps the watermark of the last ordeal he endured.

“I haven’t been here for a long time...” he says, his eyes staring disapprovingly at the couch that moved here along with Sam. Jacob never liked him.

“Yeah!” Annie confirms, her voice heavy with reproach.

“Pip... It was too risky. I was undercover!”

Annie has a small incredulous laugh.

“I didn’t see an undercover wizard. I saw a guy we had to get out of a jam! That said, it’s becoming a habit...”

“Your nerves are on edge! Don’t take it out on me, Pip!” he says in a tone that commands respect.

The witch winces. He is right. This is not the time for a brotherly joust. She pours two glasses of Firewhisky and they toast to a ceasefire.

“So you and Merula... Since when?”

“Never mind, it’s over... She betrayed me, tortured... I hate her!”

It is rare for Annie to see Jacob bare his soul. The years of separation because of the cursed vaults have seriously marred their complicity. They tried to find it before they realized that time lost could not be made up for.

Unconsciously, Jacob had wanted to pick up where he left off. But during his absence, the little girl who saw him as a hero had given way to an accomplished witch, an adult before her time. Disillusionment, bitterness… Guilt.

“I bet she didn’t use the Cruciatus Curse?”

A stubborn silence answers.

“She said she would never have succeeded in using that magic against you... Probably because you have to enjoy the suffering of your victim to cast it,” Annie says with a falsely innocent look.

“Stop it! You’re not Mum!”

“She would tell you to listen to me!”

“Of course! You’re the heroine! Me, I’ve gone from child prodigy to the poor, undesirable bastard who is constantly reminded that he was saved by his little sister!”

The lack of recognition and the inability to forget that their parents did not look for him, or so little, after his disappearance in the cursed vaults, eat away at Jacob’s insides like acid. Bruised by these years of absence, Annie’s heart tightens. She remembers all too well the time when the world treated them as outcasts, and when their mother took calming potions to overcome each day without her son, one after the other, so much the pain of having lost him was a torment. As for Dad... Whatever! Nothing was the same after Jacob’s disappearance. Her brother can’t understand.

“They tried to turn the page,” Jacob says, sipping his drink. “it’s a lot easier to do it over a dead body than over a ‘missing’ person who might turn up at any moment! So they did nothing, while turning a blind eye to your research out of cowardice. You were a child! Do you think that’s normal?”

Jacob’s gaze pierces her, so sharp is it. Annie shrugs.

“The question never arose... I looked for you because it was the only thing I could do. Point... Don’t blame anyone for my own choices,”

An impulse pushes her to hug him. This may be the last time, after all.

“And stop blaming yourself too,” she says as he hugs her tightly. “You can’t spend your life blaming yourself for mistakes you made trying to protect me, my brother.”

#hphm #hphm fic #annie thorn #hphm jacob #Circle of Khanna #battle of hogwarts #LL fic #esl writer

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peqchys · 27 days ago

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hello!! 🍓

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making a fancy brand new about me for my blog since i feel like i don’t have enough abt me on my profile…..

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names - rowan, peach, or sunny!! pronouns - any, no pref age - 16 identity - vague confusing nb, lesbian extra - - physically disabled [pots] - autism + adhd [both diagnosed] - christopagan, just a weird mushy mix of christianity, wicca, and a bunch of other spiritual stuff…..also a witch!!

special interests [there’s a whole bunch of these so get ready for a chunky paragraph…..MOOTS WHO SHARE INTERESTS ARE SUPER WELCOME !!!!] - project sekai, vocaloid, undertale, underverse, deltarune, olb&a, oln&f, xoxo droplets, danganronpa, obey me, the arcana, the owl house, fnaf, dsaf, genshin impact, honkai star rail, zenless zone zero, littlest pet shop, webkinz, cookie run, yttd, sk8 the infinity, banana fish, yuri on ice, dhmis, bungou stray dogs, sanders sides, sasaki and miyano, build a bear, warrior cats, animal crossing, super mario, sonic the hedgehog, party crashers, sleep deprived, blooming panic, error 143, stardew valley, omori, the sims, bluey, paw patrol, eddsworld, twice, saiki k, john doe / house hunted, stanley parable, game grumps, nsp, mlp, animal jam, blush blush, sally face, pokemon, tpn, devilman crybaby, calico critters, it 2017, it 2019, kinitopet

dni - all of the basic dni + proshippers dont come near me plz links - > toyhouse > commissions

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#yapping #looking for moots #intro post #artists on tumblr

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priokskfm · 1 month ago

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#MixOfDay #Podcast #Radioshow #LiveDjset Defected Radio Show Hosted by Rimarkable 18.10.24 1. AYYBO X MERYLL - I Like Dancing [Catch & Release] 00:00 2. Steve Bug & Denny feat. Mikey V - That Beat [Hot Creations] 04:53 3. Dyon - Beat Of The Drum [Summer-ized Sessions] 09:10 4. Cromby - House Flava [Big Saldo’s Chunkers] 14:12 5. Solarce Brothers - Green Juice [Nervous Records] 18:26 6. Catz ’n Dogz feat. Aaron Veal - Jump, Bounce [Nothing Else Matters] 21:27 7. Aaron K. Gray, DJ Spen & Gary Hudgins - Obey (The Shino BlacKK Remix) [Unquanitze] 25:40 8. T.Williams & Sio - Peace (Tedd Patterson Remix) [The Remedy Project] 29:59 9. Bushwacka! - Heaven On Earth (Main Mix) [Rekids Records] 34:46 10. MOST RATED: Mau P - MERTHER [Defected] 38:26 11. Waze & Life On Planets - Bang [Second Phase] 43:13 12. Mark Row - Like The Way [Wyld Card Records] 46:50 13. Mary Jane Girls - All Night Long (Aardalan Edit) [Fantastic Voyage] 50:52 14. Muni Long - Made For Me (HoneyLuv AfroLuv Remix) [Def Jam] 55:02 15. Little Simz feat. Obongjayar - Point and Kill (Dunmore Brothers Edit) [Buzz Cutz] 58:18 16. Mathias Kaden - Freedom [Rekids Records] 1:02:05 17. Julia Sandstorm - Leviosa [Yes Yes Yes] 1:06:25 18. Enamour - Zizzy [Frau Blau] 1:11:12 19. SUNANA - Superstylin’ (Kry IT Remix) [The Vibe Arrived] 1:16:12 20. Marco Lys - Raving [Circus Recordings] 1:20:18 21. Andres Blows - Analog [Techaway Records] 1:25:36 22. Kitty Cash - Breaking News (James Juke Hot Take) [A Good Cry Records] 1:29:37 23. Harry Romero - The Beat Goes On [DFTD] 1:33:16 24. Todd Terry & Alexander Technique - Jack The Tek [Terminator Records] 1:39:04 25. Daniel Kyo / KoKo - Superstition (Daniel Kyo Total Remake) [Basic Fingers] 1:42:51 26. Ricky Erre Love - My Night Shift [Metroklang Records] 1:47:12 27. Prince - 17 Days (Nenor Remix) [White Label] 1:53:54 www.priokskfm.online https://ift.tt/xKVJWBl

#Priokskfm #mixofaday #Defected Records #SoundCloud

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savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 2 months ago

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DOOM OR BE DOOMED!! -- OBEY THE RIFF!!

PIC INFO: Spotlight on guitarist/co-founder Tony Iommi of English heavy rock band BLACK SABBATH, performing live at the Gaumont in Southampton, England on June 25, 1980, during the band's "Heaven and Hell" era. 📸: Fin Costello.

"SPIN" MAGAZINE: "So, for "Heaven and Hell," the first SABBATH record for Ronnie in the band… I know Sharon Osbourne introduced you two. Did you already know him from RAINBOW or ELF?"

TONY IOMMI: "I’ve never met him before. I’d obviously heard him with Rainbow. I thought, ‘wow, God, he’s a great singer.’ Never thought for one minute I’d end up being in a band with him. She introduced me to him at a party. Remember those?"

SPIN: "Ha, barely! Had she introduced you with the intention of you guys playing together?"

TONY: "Well, it was sort of mentioned because it came to a point within Sabbath where it was getting a bit sort of… I just wanted to do something. And we were coming to a bit of a halt at the time because of the situation [Ozzy’s partying]. I did mention the idea of doing something solo, as a different project. Ronnie was interested in that. And then when it came to when Ozzy was no longer with the band, I called Ronnie and said, ‘do you fancy coming over and having a play with us?’ He came over and the idea was just to have a jam, really. We did, and we were all impressed with what he did. And he liked what we did. It sort of went from there, really."

SPIN: "I know you worked at Criteria in Miami, home of the Bee Gees… how did you end up there to record "Heaven and Hell"? And, part two, there’s the story you lit drummer Bill Ward on fire… was it there?"

TONY: "Stop making me laugh! No, it wasn’t, actually, it was in London where I set him on fire. We had recorded at Criteria with Technical Ecstasy [in 1976]. We were in Los Angeles when it all blew up with Ozzy, and Don Arden [Sharon’s father] managed us at the time, and he was very difficult, and we were breaking away from him. So we didn’t want to stay in Los Angeles any longer. The idea was, ‘well, let’s go to Miami,’ so we went and stayed at Barry Gibb’s house. And wrote the album, really."

Source: www.spin.com/2021/03/tony-iommi-black-sabbath-dio-eddie-van-halen-interview.

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the-jam-to-the-unicorn · 6 months ago

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Jam, please do "I want to kiss you." 😍😍😍😍😍😍

Done! Sorry for the delay. 🫣

With a bit of sadness, Volodymyr saw Olena's apartment building appear in the distance as they walked along the pavement holding hands. Involuntarily, his grip on her hand tightened, and Volodymyr intertwined their fingers more, not wanting their time together to end just yet.

"Vova, you're holding my hand a little too tightly," Olena interrupted her story about her current project, and Volodymyr loosened his grip a little.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to."

Olena smiled a bit before continuing her story. But eventually, they stopped at the path that led to the front door of the house. Volodymyr was thinking so hard about what reason he could use to persuade Olena to stay or take another walk that he almost expected little puffs of smoke to come out of his ears. Olena, meanwhile, was standing in front of him somewhat indecisively, her eyes darting back and forth between the front door and Volodymyr.

"We could go for another walk," he suggested, looking at Olena with a hopeful smile, which she shyly returned.

Olena's heart had been beating fast since Volodymyr had picked her up from the university, and now it was skipping a beat while the tingly feeling that Olena always got in Volodymyr's presence appeared in her stomach. Then she looked down at her watch and, with a soft sigh, let her eyes drift to the house before Olena looked at him again. There was regret in her eyes now.

"I wish I could, but I should have been home twenty minutes ago. I'd better go upstairs before my parents get worried," Olena said sadly.

"What if you go upstairs, tell your parents and then we go for a walk?"

Volodymyr stepped in front of her to cover the house and so that she could look him straight in the eye. He did not let go of Olena's hand. Instead, his thumb caressed her fingers tenderly as he smiled at her. Olena returned the smile and she had the feeling that her heart was beating so fast that Volodymyr could hear it. His smile was charming and engaging, Volodymyr's eyes looked at her gently and seemed to be able to look deep into her soul. The longer his fingers caressed hers and the longer he looked at her, the stronger the tingling in Olena's stomach became. And it spread all over her body. The many good reasons and rational thoughts that Olena had until a moment ago fell silent, and she melted inside. Of course, Olena wanted to stay and spend some more time with Volodymyr. But Olena reminded herself to be reasonable. If she didn't go upstairs soon, she would be grounded and then she wouldn't be able to spend any more time with Volodymyr.

"I really have to go, Vova," Olena said, though her voice didn't sound entirely convinced.

The second part of her sentence, that she would have liked to stay and take another walk with him, got stuck in Olena's throat. She was simply too shy to say it out loud. With a beguiling smile, Volodymyr stepped closer to Olena, and her breath caught a little as Olena's gaze fell briefly on his lips. Volodymyr was pleased to notice this, as well as the fact that her cheeks darkened a little. He leaned closer to Olena. So close that the tips of their noses almost touched. Olena held her breath, expecting a kiss, but Volodymyr stopped and just looked at her. Her eyes remained on his lips.

"And there's absolutely nothing I can do to persuade you to spend a little more time with me?" he asked with a flirtatious undertone.

Olena could think of something, especially the longer she looked at his lips. But she remembered what the consequences would be if she stayed and spent more time with Volodymyr.

"I'm afraid not," Olena could only breathe in response, her voice no longer willing to obey her.

With all her strength, she forced herself to look into his eyes again. Volodymyr smiled sympathetically, but Olena saw the disappointment in his eyes that she felt in her heart. But it was as if the air between and around them was suddenly filled with sparks, a kind of electricity. There was an attraction that Olena had only experienced with Volodymyr so far. And it was growing stronger by the second, so Olena looked at his lips again for a brief moment before quickly lifting her eyes again.

"Are you sure?" Volodymyr asked quietly, and Olena swallowed before nodding because that was all she could do.

He felt the excited tingling in his body increase. The few times Volodymyr had been allowed to kiss Olena, he could count on one hand. And Volodymyr wasn't complaining at all. The only problem was that ever since that first kiss, he was absolutely addicted to kissing Olena. To the point where Volodymyr wanted to kiss her every second of the day. Olena's lips were warm and soft, her kisses tasted sweet, and there was something intoxicating about them. Everything in Volodymyr's head was always spinning, and he felt as light as if he was floating. And after a kiss, the world seemed more colourful, sunnier and beautiful. But Olena was still very reserved - a quality Volodymyr loved about her - which was why he didn't want to force himself on Olena, no matter how much Volodymyr wanted to kiss her at every opportunity. Patience was a virtue he didn't really have but one that Volodymyr was working very hard on at the moment. He would wait a hundred years for Olena if he had to. Volodymyr would do much, if not everything, for her as long as he could be with Olena and close to her. And she looked at him as she was looking at him now.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Volodymyr asked, his heart pounding with excitement.

"Tomorrow I have university again ..." Olena began evasively, but he refused to accept this answer.

Jokingly, Volodymyr began to sulk and took another small step towards her. He could smell Olena's perfume and felt the warmth radiating from her body.

"Please. I miss you too much otherwise, Len. I can't wait until the day after tomorrow."

Olena let out a shy but very flattered giggle as she lowered her eyes in sheepishness and Olena felt her cheeks grow very warm. They literally burned when she suddenly felt Volodymyr's finger on her chin and how he gently lifted her gaze. It was like ants were running through her whole body.

"After my seminar ... before I go to the library ... I have some time," Olena said breathlessly, feeling hot and cold because of how Volodymyr looked at her.

So lovingly. And ... desirous.

"We could go for a coffee?!" Olena suggested, swallowing as Volodymyr's finger trailed briefly from her chin over her cheek before taking his hand away again.

Olena immediately missed the touch and looked back to his lips. Kissing Volodymyr was one of the most beautiful feelings in the world, along with holding his hand and being close to him, and yet Olena almost never dared. What if Volodymyr found her too intrusive? Or too possessive? What if he thought it was silly that she wanted to kiss him all the time? And Olena certainly didn't want to appear clingy.

"I'll pick you up. When will you be ready?" Volodymyr asked, smiling brightly.

"Can you be there just before five?"

He nodded, and his smile widened.

"I'm looking forward to our date. That's all I'll be dreaming about tonight."

Olena's stomach fluttered, and she had to giggle again.

"No, you won't, but if you keep making jokes like that, I'll start to believe them," she said, lowering her eyes.

"I was serious," Volodymyr replied, sounding like he was.

Then Olena heard a noise and looked up. A neighbour was coming out of the front door, and Olena just nodded to him before the neighbour disappeared. Meanwhile, she thought about what to say to Volodymyr since she hadn't expected him to really mean what he said. Olena decided to leave it at that, hoping that her cheeks would eventually stop burning. Instead, she gestured with her head in the direction of the apartment building, and they walked to the front door in silence for a moment, holding hands. Olena looked at Volodymyr as they stopped beside it. He was still looking at her happily and gently, and it didn't seem to bother him in the least that she hadn't said anything back. Not for the first time, Olena realised how much easier everything was with Volodymyr.

"I really should be going," she began, smiling. "Thank you for a lovely afternoon and evening. And the invitation to the cinema and dinner," Olena continued, and Volodymyr's smile widened a little.

"You're very welcome. I had a lovely time with you, too."

"I'll pay for the coffee tomorrow!"

"Let's see ..." he replied, grinning, at which she shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes, but Olena smiled and Volodymyr saw her eyes sparkle.

"You always pay, Vova," she said, and he stepped so close to Olena that their bodies were almost touching.

She swallowed and Olena's eyes fell on Volodymyr's lips again as she leaned slightly towards him, but Volodymyr made no move to kiss her.

"Of course, I'll pay. You're my girlfriend," he said lovingly, his voice full of tenderness, and Olena looked into Volodymyr's eyes again, her heart beating wildly at his words. "Remember? I'm your boyfriend ... you're my girlfriend ... we're dating ..." Volodymyr continued teasingly.

"I remember there was something like that ..." Olena joked, and he laughed softly.

His heart pounded in his throat and Volodymyr felt a little dizzy with happiness. Then he gathered all his courage.

"And since you're my girlfriend, you're my darling. And I'll pay for my darling if I go on a date with you."

Volodymyr resisted the urge to kiss her but waited and gave Olena time. It was the first time he had ever called her that. Olena's mouth was slightly open as she took a deep breath. She looked at him with wide eyes, her gaze moving back and forth between Volodymyr's lips and his eyes. Olena swallowed a few times as if she wanted to say something, but Olena remained silent.

"What?" he asked with a smile, deciding to be a little bolder by placing his free hand on her waist, causing Olena to gasp softly in surprise.

"Oh, nothing ..." she said haltingly, looking back at his lips.

"Tell me ..." Volodymyr whispered, encouragingly looking at Olena.

"It ... it's ..." she stuttered, looking into his eyes again. "It's just that ..."

"Yes?" Volodymyr breathed and swallowed as he saw Olena unconsciously lick her lips and then lightly bite her lower lip.

"I want to kiss you," Olena blurted out in a burst of fearlessness, her wish suddenly greater than her shyness. "I would really like to kiss you."

Volodymyr's smile turned into a blissful grin as the hand on Olena's waist slid to her back.

"Well, another benefit of me being your boyfriend is ..." he began teasingly, waggling his eyebrows. "You can kiss me anytime and as much as you want," Volodymyr continued, leaning forward, but he stopped just short of Olena's lips, tilting his head slightly until his lips were hovering next to her cheek.

Olena's head was spinning, and if Volodymyr didn't hold her, she would probably fall over.

"How would you like to kiss me?" he whispered into Olena's ear. "Like this?"

Volodymyr kissed her tenderly on the cheek before his lips brushed along it.

"Or like this?" he asked, kissing the place next to the corner of her mouth.

Olena had closed her eyes during the first kiss, her breathing heavy and her heart fluttering. Volodymyr let his lips slide further, touching Olena's gingerly until they hovered in front of hers, just the tips of their noses touching.

"Like this," Olena breathed, closing the distance between them and kissing Volodymyr.

The ants and butterflies in her body exploded into small fireworks. Volodymyr's knees almost gave out. Olena let go of his hand to rest both of hers gently on his chest, and Volodymyr placed his free hand on Olena's cheek. They stayed like that for a while, kissing each other again and again. But the initially tender and gentle kisses quickly turned into more intimate ones. Volodymyr pulled Olena closer into his arms, and without her noticing that they were moving, Olena suddenly felt the house wall at her back, against which Volodymyr carefully pressed her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and as one hand went into Volodymyr's hair, he made a sound that made Olena feel hot. Volodymyr began to kiss her all the more passionately, and when he elicited a soft sigh from Olena against his lips, Volodymyr could have sworn that angels were singing at the same time and that he had never heard a more beautiful sound. Volodymyr was wrong because the second sigh, when a hand moved to her bottom, was even better. And they would have continued kissing passionately and tenderly at the same time if a group of people had not suddenly come out of the apartment building. Embarrassed and with burning cheeks, Olena quickly broke the kiss and took a step away from Volodymyr as he tried to catch his breath and turned away from the people. He couldn't help but let his tongue slide over his lips. Volodymyr could still taste Olena. Embarrassed, they waited until the people were out of earshot and out of sight. Then he cleared his throat loudly before Volodymyr looked at Olena, who was also looking in his direction. There was a moment of silence before they both started to laugh, their cheeks flushed.

"So I'll see my darling tomorrow shortly before 5 PM?" Volodymyr asked with a broad smile, and that tingling sensation returned to Olena's body when he called her that.

"Yes," Olena managed to answer, still breathless from their kiss.

Volodymyr's goodnight kiss left her just as breathless, though it was tender and loving in comparison. Nevertheless, Olena knew she would only think about it tonight. Volodymyr waited until he saw her go up the stairs and then made his way back, feeling exhilarated. Volodymyr felt Olena's lips on his all evening and all night. And even longer. Until they were on hers again the next day.

#enjoy anon!

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audiofuzz · 1 year ago

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HEAR: Dhani Harrison - “New Religion (Ft. Graham Coxon)”

Multiple GRAMMY® Award-winning musician and composer, Dhani Harrison, has released INNERSTANDING, his first solo album in six years. The new album is available now digitally, with a 2LP Neon Yellow color vinyl edition being available on February 9th, 2024, via H.O.T. Records/BMG. The album features Blur’s Graham Coxon on several tracks, including the single “New Religion”, as well as guest appearances from Liela Moss of The Duke Spirit and critically acclaimed Australian singer Mereki. Watch the visualizer for “New Religion (feat. Graham Coxon)” below: “Here we are in a new world and here is the new album that has come forth from it.” Dhani Harrison on his new album, Harrison previously previewed the album with the single “Damn That Frequency”, which also featured Coxon on saxophone – stream HERE. In addition to his appearance on that track, Coxon also features on guitar on four other songs on INNERSTANDING. The album was produced by Harrison and co-mixed with GRAMMY® Award-winning producer Paul Hicks (The Beatles, Joe Strummer, The Rolling Stones). Originally stepping onto the global stage with his band thenewno2, Dhani Harrison first earned critical acclaim for his innovative sound and approach with performances at Coachella, Lollapalooza, and on multiple late night TV shows. However, it was as solo artist that Harrison truly demonstrated his creative autonomy. 2017’s IN///PARALLEL served as a testament to his evolution as a musician, weaving intricate melodies and a subject matter that forewarned much of what the world has experienced in the years following its release. Rolling Stone hailed IN///PARALLEL writing that it was “psychedelia-tinged journey into modern-day disconnect.” Harrison is also known for scoring film and TV projects as well as collaborating with an array of diverse artists including Wu-Tang Clan, UNKLE, John McLaughlin, Annie Lennox, Pearl Jam, Nitin Sawhney, Perry Farrell, Prince, Regina Spektor, and Fistful of Mercy (alongside Ben Harper & Joseph Arthur). Since his 2013 debut as a composer on Richard La Gravenese’s Beautiful Creatures, Harrison has gone on to score the Sundance Award- winning MATANGI/MAYA/M.I.A., for which he and his scoring partner Paul Hicks received an International Documentary Association (IDA) Award nomination for “Best Music Score Award.” Additional scores include R.Z.A.’s CutThroat City, Obey Giant – The Story of Shepard Fairey, Amazon’s original series Good Girls Revolt, Showtime’s White Famous, and the much-lauded HBO docuseries, The Case Against Adnan Syed. As an artist who defies categorization, Harrison continues to explore the boundaries of music and creativity. His ability to seamlessly blend diverse influences while maintaining his individuality has solidified his place as a contemporary musical visionary. With each new composition, performance, and collaboration, Dhani Harrison invites us to join him on a sonic journey that knows no limits. Read the full article

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chrisryanspeaks · 1 year ago

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HEAR: Dhani Harrison - “New Religion (Ft. Graham Coxon)”

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obeythedemons · 3 years ago

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A Napping Demon [Obey Me! Barbatos/Lance]

Warnings: Food mention

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1192

Obey Me! Masterlist

Lance paused as he walked past a doorway. His eyebrows furrowed together. Quickly, the human shuffled backward and peered into the sitting room. There, Barbatos was sitting in a lounge chair, his head leaning back against the rest. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were closed.

Looking around, Lance tried to find a spare blanket but found none. Biting his lip, Lance sped off through the halls of the castle to where he knew there was a linen closet from helping Barbatos before. He opened it and frowned. It was empty.

"What?” Lance whispered yelled. “What the hell!?”

“Oh!” a squeak sounded from nearby. Lance peered over and saw No. 2 skitter nearby. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Human!”

“You do take after you Papa calling me human,” Lance grumbled. “Do you know where all of the blankets are, No. 2?”

“It’s laundry day, Mr. Barbatos hung them all out to dry.”

“All of them?” Lance frowned.

“Yes, why?”

Lance shook his head. “It’s nothing. Thank you.” Lance shut the linen closet and hurried back to where Barbatos was sleeping, ignoring the fact that the little demon was following him. He quickly slid off the coat of his school uniform and poked his head back into the room. Barbatos was still there, hadn’t moved a muscle. As quietly as he could, Lance pattered towards the snoozing demon and gently placed the coat over the demon. He shuffled the bit of red fabric and had it drape over Barbatos’s legs.

Lance admired the demon before him. Though, movement in the doorway rudely interrupted the moment. He glanced over his glasses at No. 2 and hurried out of the room. Lance grabbed the door handle and silently shut it.

“Let’s let him rest,” Lance whispered to the demon and gently patted its head. “Do you know if the laundry is dry yet?”

“It should be, or it should be soon, why?”

“Let’s help out Barbatos and put it away for him,” Lance spoke softly as he headed towards where Barbatos would hang the linens to dry.

“But it’s almost time for Lord Diavolo’s tea!”

Lance did a 180 and made his way back towards the kitchen. “I’ll get that. Could you start to get the linens? I’ll meet back up with you to help fold them.”

The human didn’t wait for a response as he made a beeline for the kitchen. He quickly turned on the stovetop and put the kettle on. His eyes landed on some lemon scones. Opening the fridge, Lance grabbed some blood blackberry jam. He quickly grabbed the plates for the scones and jams while also grabbing the loose lavender tea and scooped it into the infuser.

The whistling sounded and Lance hurried over. He grabbed the kettle and made his way to the teapot that would be used to serve Lord Diavolo, Lucifer, and Solomon. Taking a deep breath, he focused on holding the kettle as Barbatos would, to allow the air and the water to mix with the tea.

“Careful,” Lance muttered as the water started to pour out. He winced as his hand trembled and some water splashed a bit more than it should. Still, it soon filled the pot and started brewing the tea. “Hopefully that’ll be good.”

Lance placed the teapot, cups, plates, serving utensils, and napkins on the serving platter and used both hands to carry the tray down the halls. He did not trust himself to use one hand as Barbatos would. Instead, he slowly walked and eyed the contents on the tray, trying his best to make sure it wouldn’t crash down to the floor. Soon enough, he walked to the meeting room where the three were gathered in.

“Just in time Barba—” Diavolo’s voice cut short as he saw Lance. “Lance, what are you doing? Not that I’m upset by this, it’s a nice change in pace!” He laughed as the human shook while trying to serve them all.

“Yes, what are you doing?” Lucifer eyed Lanced with suspicion. “You came with me to read through the Royal Archives for a project.”

“I finished earlier than I expected I would,” Lance said honestly. “So I thought I’d just help Barbatos.” He started to pour their cups of tea. “Today, you’ll have lemon scones with a black—blood blackberry jam and lavender tea. I thought you all seemed a bit tired, so the lavender tea will help you relax.”

“Thank you, Lance,” Solomon sounded, but there was a small smirk on his face. “What did you do to Barbatos?”

Lance glared at his fellow human – wondering just how much Asmo had told him. “Nothing.”

“Lie,” Diavolo chuckled as he took a sip of his tea.

“Lance?” Lucifer questioned, his tone becoming impatient.

“I-I didn’t do anything bad!” Lance sounded, his voice raising an octave. “Just helped him, is all.” Lance finished serving them and took the serving tray back. “And I’m going to help more, so if you’ll please excuse me.” Lance hightailed it out of there to go and assist No. 2.

Barbatos moved slightly with his face buried into whatever was draped over him. It smelt faintly of a mixture of a cool cologne and jasmine tea. He pulled it closer to him and hummed happily at the rare, pleasant dreams flowing through his mind. Then, his groggy mind started to stir as consciousness started to come to him. He paused and snapped his eyes open.

His emerald eyes glanced down towards the fabric covering him – the RAD jacket. “Who…?” A harsh blush covered his cheeks as he recognized the scent. “Lance?” he uttered and looked around seeing he was by himself. The demon buried his face in the jacket to try and calm the raging heat in his face, only to make it worse.

“Ah, the Young Lord!” Barbatos yelped with alarm and neatly draped the jacket over his arm as he rushed out of the room and towards the kitchen. He skidded to a stop at the sound of arguing.

“Mr. Barbatos chops it much faster,” the sound of No. 2’s taunts hit the demon’s ears.

“I know he does!” Lance growled. “My wrist won’t work well enough for me to chop it like he does!”

“Dinner’s going to be late.”

“Then, help me!” Lance wailed as he continued to use the knife to cut the vegetables.

“No, I’m tired from earlier.”

Lance ignored the demon and asked, “Here, does this taste good?”

Barbatos peered around the corner to see Lance serve a sauce to No. 2. No. 2 smacked his lips as he thought before he excitedly nodded his head. Lance sighed in relief and quickly washed the spoon. “Good. I’m nowhere near Barbatos’s level in the kitchen, but hopefully, it’ll be okay for Diavolo.”

“He’ll just be excited to have a dish from the human world that wasn’t made by that shady wizard.”

Barbatos smiled softly to himself. He glanced at the jacket in his arms. Peering back, he decided to allow the two to continue on. He shrugged the jacket over his shoulders and walked off – thinking he’d finish the laundry.

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wonderhoy-edits · 3 years ago

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“Gonna see a play♪ See a play♪ Doo doo doo♪”

Hi hii! I’m Mod Emu or Mod Otori, you could also call me Zoey if you’d like! My pronouns are she/her, and I’m a minor! My main blog is @.zoey-thee-4townie, I’m the owner of this group blog so message me there if you have any questions!

I Can Dance To This! (Edit types):

Icons (regular, shaped, reply, pride)

Headers

Moodboards

Playlists

Doodles

Pendulum Readings

Tarot Readings

Compose, Compose! (Source List!):

Danganronpa (all games)

Turning Red

Undertale/Deltarune

Coraline

Gorillaz

Total Drama (only up to season 5!)

My Hero Academia

Demon Slayer

Avatar the Last Airbender

Vocaloid

Five Nights At Freddy’s (Only security breach!)

Bendy and The Ink Machine

Haikyuu!!

Apex Legends

Kingdom Hearts

Sanrio

Animal Crossing

Mystic Messenger

Obey Me: One Master to Rule Them All!

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Stranger Things

Carmen Sandiego (2019 version)

Naruto (selective and shippuden only!)

Legend of Zelda (I’ve only played botw so no major spoilers plz!)

Any Ghibli Movie

Doki Doki Literature Club

Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun

Pokemon

Adventure Time

My Little Pony

Lupin the Third

Project Sekai

Teen Titans (The original)

That’s My Jam! (Whitelist!):

4*town, Priya (Turning Red)

Hanako x Yashiro (Tbhk)

Ochako x Mina, Denki, Fatgum, Kirishima, Bakugo, Tsuyu (Bnha)

Roxy x Chica, Monty, Sundrop (fnaf)

Mike + Personalities (total drama)

Alice angel, Boris (Batim)

Zack, Player, Ivy, Graham (Carmen Sandiego)

Enmu, Doma, Uzui Tengen, Mitsuri, Nezuko

Judy, Raymond, Kabuki, Isabel, Brewster, Rover (Animal Crossing)

Sokka, Zuko, Suki, Toph, Ty Lee (Atla)

Steve, Will, Max, Eleven (Stranger Things)

2D, Ace, Noodle (Gorillaz)

Ibuki, Kokichi, Gundham, Kazuichi (Danganronpa)

Natsuki, Monika (doki doki)

Howl, Ponyo, Calcifer, Souske, Ponyo’s Parents (Ghibli)

Leviathan, Mammon, Beel, Asmo (Obey me)

707, Zen (Mystic Messenger)

Sans, Papyrus, Mettaton, Spamton, Ralsei, Susie, Kris (Undertale/Deltarune)

Octane, Bloodhound (Apex Legends)

Deidara, Naruto, Kiba, Shikamaru, Itachi, Kakashi (Naruto)

Miku, Len, Galaco (Vocaloid)

Sugawara, Tanaka, Bokuto (Haikyuu!!)

Wybie, Other Father (Coraline)

Sora (Kingdom Hearts

Jack Skellington, Sally (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Link, Revali, Mask Kid (Legend of Zelda)

Scenecore, Weirdcore, Royalcore, Dark Academia (Aesthetics)

Any pokemon swsh character (excluding Rose)

Any character from lupin the third (Excluding villains)

Marshall Lee, Cake, Princess Bubblegum, Marceline

Robin, Jynx, Beast Boy, Cyborg, Raven, Starfire, Blackfire

This Song Just Isn’t Fitting The Mood! (Blacklist!):

Irl things (ex. actors outside characters, dsmp, real people)

Countryhumans

Yansim

Chris, Chef, Scott, Courtney, Gwen, Dakota, Sam, Jo (Total drama)

Lore Olympus (I’ll only post that stuff on my main blog)

Yanderes in general!

Sanscest shippers

Madrigalcest shippers

Any 4*town member x anyone

Paula Cracker (Gorillaz)

Rika, V, Saeran (Mystic Messenger)

Lilith, Luke (Obey Me)

Sun x Moon (Fnaf)

Mr.B (Coraline)

Any “ugly” considered villager (Animal Crossing)

Mike or Will x anyone, The Mind Flayer (Stranger Things)

Tsukasa, Mistuba, Sakura (Tbhk)

Len or Ren x anyone, Miku x anyone (Vocaloid)

Any Haikyuu!! ship

The king, Toriel, Chara, Flowey (Deltarune/Undertale)

Any bnha ship that isn’t Ochamina (they just make me uncomfy)

Ozai, Sokka x anyone (Bc of his heartbreaks ;-; ATLA)

Saiouma, Tenko x men, Ultra Despair Girls, Korekiyo, Mikan, Junko (Danganronpa)

Ice king, any adventure time ships for the time being

Any parents, kohane (Project Sekai)

Any teen titan ship for the time being

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years ago

Text

Parking Lot

This is a love letter to the Dean who told Cassie everything about his life after knowing her for 2 weeks and who didn’t see What Is And What Should Never Be as a horror show until he saw his bond with Sam was gone. I don’t think it would work for a later seasons Dean, who had pretty conclusively abandoned this idea for himself. I’d love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Parking Lot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3801

Summary: A parking lot quickie leads to an illuminating argument between Dean and the reader.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst, ~*idiots in love*~, fluff

In a couple ways it seemed like a lesson; you really shouldn’t have been fooling around in a parking lot no matter how late at night it was. Especially not a bar’s parking lot, potentially more likely to be busy at this hour, shadows be damned.

But it wasn’t all your fault, not by a long shot. Dean knew exactly what he was doing, getting a Manhattan rather than his standard straight bourbon just for the cherry, rolling it around with his tongue and licking his fingers of the juice while you waited for the guys you were playing pool against to shoot.

If Sam had been there you might’ve been able to keep it together for politeness’s sake, but you didn’t give a shit about these people and you weren’t doing research for a case, just blowing off steam post-job before heading out of town in the morning.

Two could play at Dean’s game, though, you arching your back deep into the table to make a shot and practically purring “your turn” when he was up, hovering close enough to see the goosebumps spread over his neck when he smirked and obeyed. He finished the game lightning fast with a string of laser-focused shots and you silently downed the rest of his drink as the guys ponied up, tossing thick folds of cash onto the table and shaking Dean’s hand. You didn’t even feel guilty for hustling them, partly for their ignoring you but mostly for the distraction of Dean’s hands reracking the balls and grabbing your coat, sliding a palm to your lower back with his pinky just barely under your waistband. It was all you could do to wait until you get to the back of the parking lot to shove him up against the Impala and bite his bottom lip almost too hard before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

You felt the smile and heard the groan at the same time, both pouring into your mouth as you ripped at Dean’s jacket, trying to yank his flannel off his shoulders with it. You abandoned the project to paw at Dean’s tee once you’d gotten the outer layers bunched down around his elbows, kissing him hungry and dark like he was yours to take.

One of Dean’s bitten off groans trailed off into a barely-there whimper. For all his posturing he loved this, when he could give up being predator and let go for a few minutes to be your prey. He didn’t start fumbling for the door handle until you flicked open his belt, his other hand clutching at a handful of hair at the back of your neck and kissing down your jugular fast and hard. Imagining the way Sam was going to roll his eyes at the hickeys only added adrenaline while Dean finally got the backseat door open, sliding you in and unfurling on top of you. Still working on his jeans, you dragged him tight between your legs.

“You are—so—mean,” you grinned between kisses. “Teasing me like—that.”

Dean’s eyebrows kicked up on his forehead, playing dumb like you knew he would. “Me? Never.” His act dropped the moment you finally got his fly open, wrapping your hand around his cock through his boxers and punching all the air out of his lungs. His head rolled back on his neck almost violently, impossibly long eyelashes grazing his cheekbones and lips parted around a breathy “fuck.”

His switch flipped, Dean scrambled to strip you as fast as possible. You tried to help him in large part to avoid tearing your clothes, ending up crushed into the leather of the bench seat somehow with one leg fully out of your jeans and underwear, the other knee tangled up in the fabric. He’d shoved up your shirt and bra and it would’ve been uncomfortable and tight if any of your senses had been turned to it instead of Dean wetting his middle finger to slip-slide along your clit, murmuring something about “I love it when you do that,” into the side of your neck as he swirled circles into you. After a few moments you were writhing in the seat and Dean pulled that finger back up, sucking you off of it before pushing it up inside you, then another.

“Fuck me, Jesus Christ Dean,” you moaned against his tongue, yanking him forward until he guided himself into you. The stunted warm-up helped but that first push was always a shock, and whatever sound you made was loud enough that Dean covered your mouth with his hand, grinning conspiratorially down over fingers still steeped in you as he thumped you into the car door.

“Quiet—someone’s going to hear you.”

You bit his hand and Dean yelped with a chuckle, pulling it back before you roped around his neck and kissed him lasciviously. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” you smirked.

He stabilized himself against the Impala’s door to pound into you harder, you wrapping your legs around his waist and whisper-moaning filthy nothings into his ear, biting his neck until suddenly you felt that finely honed awareness pique in the back of your mind, flaring hot enough to burn and you froze, thighs clamped tight around Dean.

“Baby, I—”

“Don’t fucking move—did you hear that?” you hissed.

Dean tried to pull back and tensed hard, shuddering into you as you tried to lift your head to see as surreptitiously as possible before the delayed processing hit you. When you looked up at Dean he didn’t meet your eyes, wincing over one shoulder with his arms still planted.

“Tell me you didn’t,” you whispered.

He was silent for a half-second, still didn’t meet your eyes. “I tried t—you fucking death-gripped me with your legs, what was I supp—”

“Oh my god, get off of me,” you yelped, trying your best to sit up and snatch at anything to clean yourself up before realizing it was useless. “FUCK! Fuck, Dean, fuck, what’re we going to—I can’t be—”

He leaned back into the seat to get back into his jeans and fasten his belt. “One thing at a time, okay? They’ve got like pills and stuff right? We don’t even know if it’ll take.”

You rolled your eyes angrily at him as you jammed your leg back into your jeans. “Our fucking luck it’s already triplets.” You ran a hand through your hair and took a deep, hard breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“No, I get it.” He slumped into the seat next to you. A long beat passed, you and Dean both sitting stupid, half-dressed in jeans and untied boots, hair all over the place. He cleared his throat. “Wanna head out?” His voice was small and rough; you knew he was sorry and maybe a little embarrassed. If you were more highly evolved you might’ve been able to console him more in that moment, but your heart was bounding through your chest about what was going to happen next—if. You managed to squeeze his hand in solidarity if nothing else before grabbing your stuff and moving to the front seat.

Minutes of silent road passed before Dean reached over and covered your knee with his hand. You capped it with one of yours and saw his lips twitch up at the corner in response.

He glanced over at you tentatively. “Maybe it uh, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know?”

Your incredulity spun you around in your seat so you were fully squared to him. “What?”

It was dark in the car but you thought maybe Dean’s cheeks started to look pink. “I don’t know, teaching a little squirt how to play catch or whatever, might be cute.”

“You cannot be serious.”

His eyes flicked back over to you and his lips pursed out, trying to look non-plussed. “Whatever. Just trying to make you feel better.”

“No, you’re not. Because that exact possibility is scaring the shit out of me right now and two minutes ago you were trying to convince me we were going to pill this away. So it’s—is that something you want? Having a kid someday?”

Dean took his hand back under the guise of using two hands to turn the steering wheel. “No.”

You waited, willed your own heartbeat to slow down. As you knew he would, Dean kept talking, keeping his eyes on the road more to avoid the vulnerability of looking in your eyes rather than out of necessity on the long, straight stretch of road. “I don’t know. It really seems that bad to you? Having something that’s really, like, ours? Just you and me?”

“We’re not talking about a something, Dean, we’re talking about a fucking kid.”

“Jesus, fine, forget it. Sorry I asked.”

His knuckles went white on the steering wheel and underlined that Dean Was Done Talking. What an absolute waste of a fun little night out, leaving Sam to have a couple hours alone. Now instead of getting back looser to a well-rested Sam, you were going to barrel into this crappy motel terrified with a pissed off Dean, dropping it all at the younger Winchester’s feet to deal with (again).

It took you until the motel parking lot to muster up the courage to touch Dean’s wrist. “Can we talk for a second?” Dean pretended to be annoyed but you could tell it was an act shielding a spot of tenderness. He flopped his hands in his lap and looked over at you expectantly. “Maybe it’s dumb to even talk about this; like you said, it might be nothing. But I just—I mean if—do you really want that? What would that even look like? Not even with me or whatever obviously but leaving hunting, leaving Sam—”

“Leaving Sam? Who said anything about leaving Sam?”

“You volunteering him as nanny?”

Dean sort of half-rolled his eyes and shifted to face you. “You know as well as I do that Sam doesn’t want to be doing this, not forever. I’m not saying we should be fucking trying, obviously, I’m just—I’m going to stick around no matter what happens. I wouldn’t ditch you with my mistake.”

You scoffed. “How noble.”

“Not like that. But I’m not a complete moron, I know we’ve played with fire a couple times and I know what I’m doing.”

“I guess I just figured that was heat of the moment stuff.”

A flash of something passed over his face, gone almost too fast for you to decipher. Offense? Sadness? “Yeah, part of it. But you—you’ve never even thought about it?”

“Thought about how I’d get a couple hundred dollars and find a clinic, yeah. I—we can’t be hunters with a baby. And I won’t be stashed in some safe house somewhere, see you and Sam for a day or two every couple months, be the loner single mom who can’t tell anyone anything about her life.”

“Single mom? I’m not a fucking deadbeat. I just said I wouldn’t make you deal alone.”

You shot him an exasperated look and took a deliberate breath to keep from rising to the bait. “So what, now you want to get married? Dean, I’m not even really your damn girlfriend.”

He reached for the handle fast enough that you had to scramble across the seat after him, Dean pausing in the open door. “Look, if it’s not what you want, that’s fucking fine. But don’t patronize me. Not my fucking girlfriend? Fuck you.”

You flew across the Impala and out of the passenger door, following Dean as he stormed across the asphalt. “Fuck me? How are you mad at me?”

He spun on his heel in the parking lot. “I tell you I’m willing to leave all of this—all of everything I really know, fucked up as that is—for you, would make you my whole future and you, you—your response is that you’re not even my girlfriend? Yeah, fuck you.”

“Dean, that’s not what I—” but he had already started storming back to the room. “DEAN!” you yelled, standing stock still in the middle of the lot. He paused with his back to you for what felt like a long second before turning back around. “I don’t want to bring this back to Sam. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—I’m scared shitless about something that might not even happen and then you spring the idea of some shotgun wedding on me—”

He rolled his eyes without even a hair of humor, the muscles in his jaw tensing hard enough to catch the cold overhead light. “See, how can you—” he started, before taking a deep, deliberate breath and starting over in a tone that was forced calm. “That’s everything I ha—that’s all I can give you, is loving you and fucking being there for you. So if it’s that fucking cheap or skanky to you then I’m sorry for wasting your fucking time.” When you didn’t respond his spine straightened a few degrees. “What? Say something. Tell me how stupid I am for suggesting that being tied together might not ruin your fucking life.”

You felt that your mouth had fallen open but didn’t care. “You love me?”

Dean’s face contorted like he was looking at a mirage of something bizarre, curious and disbelieving and frustrated. “I lo—of course I love you, what the fuck?”

“Y—you’ve never said that to me.”

“What? Yes I have.” His voice softened a shade, the certainty his anger had afforded him beginning to slip away like sand at high tide, but his eyebrows stayed indignant.

You’d never been more certain of anything in your life, that Dean had never said that, because it was something you wanted constantly. Craved, even. Were kept awake at night by; the desire to have your feelings for Dean reciprocated too intense even to dream about. So you justified and bargained with yourself: if fooling around and this kind of casual commitment—girl who would cover him and Sam in a firefight and didn’t hound him for a label—was what he wanted, it was what you would give. Anything for more time with him or the chance to kiss those lips, to see the way he looked first thing in the morning, to get annoyed at his bullshit idiosyncrasies.

“No, you haven’t.” So many more words tried to burst forward from you that you had to bite your lip to be sure your mouth stayed closed.

Dean held your eyes, willing you to say something until he lost his patience. “Who says that stupid shit all the time anyway? You know I love you; I’d do fucking anything for you.” His voice had started to rise again but the heat behind it was some sort of hungry desperation, not hurt rage. “I’m—you don’t think I love you?”

You started to feel completely exposed by the industrial light, seared alive by green eyes. Shifting your weight from foot to foot didn’t help, and you fought angrily against the lump forming in your throat.

He looked over his shoulder and the barked “FUCK!” startled you despite yourself. “Kid, I—FUCK, that’s what this is? I loved you since that first fucking hunt in Cleveland! You really think I’m just…? This isn’t some Beaver Cleaver ‘I put you in a family way’ bullshit, I—I don’t know, I just, with you it feels like for the first time maybe it’s not insane to think that I could—that we could—whatever, man, I’m not fucking talking about this.” A hand shot up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tic you recognized immediately.

You took two big steps toward him. “Dean, I just—I didn’t know. That’s—I mean I’m not going to say I’ve been thinking about it; but it—it’s more because I didn’t even think it was on the table, you know? I thought we were, I don’t know, really close friends that sleep together.”

Dean’s eyebrows flew up his forehead and he blew an almost-laugh out of his nose. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Never heard of any friends that live together and fuck raw.” His tongue slid along his molars and he sucked his teeth looking down at the ground, flicker of a despondent, self-deprecating smile twitching his lips. “Uh, noted, I guess. Sorry I misunderstoo—” and his eyes on the blacktop prevented him from seeing you cross the few strides between you, catching him off guard when you kissed him hard enough to bruise, hard enough to feel everything you wanted to say, wanted to scream (at him, from the rooftops, ohmygodhelovesme) take a backseat for a moment. He grunted at the impact, stunned for a half-beat before surging forward into you, wrapping into your hair and pawing at your hips with desperate effort to get closer. Feeling the grin against your mouth, you wished you weren’t standing in the absolute middle of the parking lot, frenzy to have something to push each other against building to a fever pitch inside you when Dean tugged your hair back to look at your face.

He looked downright pornographic; swollen, flushed pout and impossible lashes framing bedroom eyes Marilyn or Sophia would’ve envied. A washing of cockiness only amplified the effect, those pillowy lips pulling into a lazy smirk. “So is this a really-close-friends kiss or what? Trying to figure out how much tongue I’m supposed to slip you.”

You giggled good-naturedly, letting the weight of your head press into his palm. “You are such an asshole.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ love it.” He sucked on that sweet pulse spot under your ear deeply, some accessory movement with his tongue enough to make you see stars and miss that it was you letting out that ungraceful whine-moan. When Dean spoke the air passing over your spit-slick neck exploded in goosebumps. “And I love you.”

Dean kissed you in that searching, delicious, eat-you-alive way he sometimes did after a particularly victorious hunt when he either had all the time in the world or didn’t give a fuck about making it; soothing-probing with a little edge of danger that hypnotized you. It pulled at the sweater of your being and tugged, steady and cloying until you were something loose and ephemerous in Dean’s hands, something equally likely to float away or explode right there in that parking lot, clearing a hundred miles in every direction and leaving behind only the imprint of your craving for him. It’s a miracle your brain was able to function at all. In the best circumstances this flayed you open and coming on the heels of having the most beautiful gift you could imagine dropped at your feet—Dean loves you, he loves you and always has—it felt like it could stop your heart and you wouldn’t care.

“I need about twenty minutes in a cold shower or I promise I’ll knock you up right the fuck here,” Dean growled, low with sin directly into your ear.

You laughed breathily. “I thought you said that might be a good thing.”

His chuckle was rough as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. He rested there for a moment before murmuring into your hair. “You really thought we were just messing around?”

“Dean, come on, I—don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

You swallowed shakily, tried to get a handle on your thoughts through the endorphins. “You—I—I’ve had it bad for you, thought if I really like, acknowledged it that it might fuck up what I did get to have of you or that some commitment would freak you out or whatever so I just—I don’t know, tried to be cool about it. Obviously we’ve always been kind of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ when we were apart—”

Dean cut off your rambling. “Uh, has there been something you’ve been ‘don’t tell’-ing? I wasn’t ‘don’t ask don’t tell’-ing.”

“You haven’t?” you asked, surprised enough to be knocked off your nebulous trail of thought.

“No, I mean—no. You would’ve been fine with that?” The disbelief was so clear on his face it was practically casting a glow around him.

“Not fine with it—of course not—the thought of it kept me up nights, but I didn’t you to think I was some jealous freak.”

A smile spread over his face slowly, butter on hot toast. “So you would’ve been jealous?”

“I was jealous, I thought that’s what was happening.”

Dean’s head lolled back on his neck a few degrees, smirk cementing itself in place. “That’s kinda hot.”

It took the tension out of the moment and you chuckled under your breath, glancing down at your feet. “Yeah, you would say that right now, psycho.” It was breathy and shaky but Dean let you have it, throwing his elbow around your neck affectionately and tucking you into his side. With a kiss to the crown of your head, he started you both walking to the room lazily. At the door, you stilled him as he reached for the knob.

“Would you really want to keep it? Like, no bullshit, if that’s the situation, that I’m actually—you know, you wouldn’t want me to…?”

He licked his lips and bit the bottom one. They parted for a moment before he began to speak as his gaze flicked between your eyes. “Babe,” he finally breathed, and there was a note of croak there. “I’m in this for the long haul. If that’s where we’re going then we’ll deal with it. If you don’t—if you’re not there, I get it, but for me, I—yeah. If it’s going to be anyone for me, it’s you.”

“Even now?”

“I could think of worse things. Worse things have happened to me this week, probably.”

There were so many follow up questions running through your mind, so many rock-solid certainties that Dean wouldn’t really be able to quit hunting, that even figuring out how to go to an OB-gyn on fake IDs was likely to be more complicated than either of you realized, but his lack of hesitation was so sweet, so earnest, and you were still riding that he loves me high. And you might’ve gotten lucky; it might be nothing, no parking lot baby to contend with, just a tense reminder to be more careful next time. It was easier than you might’ve thought to give yourself permission to relish it for the night, consequences be damned.

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