#sorry if it sounds like I'm yelling at you
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@zepskies
Oh goodness I am so excited to finally being able to read part two!
Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...
“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?” Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. “Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.
I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."
And oh my word the two lines from Dean when she got mad KILLED ME. The:
"What's this, some kind of Latina temper?" he asks snidely.
AND
"Oh, I'm sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?" he snarks.
I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.
You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room. So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.
Oh sweetie pie, Dean you're an idiot, but we love our little idiot even when he loses his temper because he cares so much. This part really got to me, because at first I was like "oh why would she stay with him in his room," but I get it. Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships.
Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.
Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.
It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.
Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.
His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.
You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. “You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. “Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”
She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.
This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.
The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.
Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀
Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless.
And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣
Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss. He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds. A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. “I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.
I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.
And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.
ESPECIALLY THIS LINE:
“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”
I don't know why that wiped me out after everything tbh.
Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.
I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.
Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:
“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”
It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊
Devour Me - Part 2
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader
Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)
AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1
Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭
Word Count: 5,400
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.
☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist
Part 2: "Telenovela Style"
Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.
Andy grips you with the strength of a monster.
Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood.
No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.
Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming.
When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done.
He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his.
“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.
“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”
In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires.
Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.
The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest.
By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital.
Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead.
You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.
The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness.
He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?”
You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him.
You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead.
Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it.
“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.
Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”
Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.
“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.
You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.
“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.”
“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps.
Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.”
“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”
His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.
“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”
Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms.
“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely.
You truly become incensed at that.
“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”
Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.
“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks.
You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.
“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?
You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn.
Dean calls your name in frustration.
“What?” you hiss.
The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks.
You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything.
Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.
You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.
After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town.
You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.
What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own.
That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes.
Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back.
You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence.
He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.
So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.
He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.
In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music.
What the fuck?
After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts.
“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table.
Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.
At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.
He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.
“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips.
It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard.
Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.
“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart.
Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”
You give him a wry look.
“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.”
But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible.
You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.
Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.
He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.
“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”
You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him.
“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—”
“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand.
“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”
You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.
“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”
That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it.
Dangerous, for both of us.
You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes.
And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.
“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.
“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”
Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.
“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”
You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.
“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.”
The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.
It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea.
More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”
He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet.
Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.
You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”
Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room.
“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.”
“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips.
“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”
Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”
You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.
“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.
But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve.
Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head.
“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.
It’s then that you know you’ve won.
So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing.
You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.
Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.
“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”
Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand.
When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”
A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.
But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.
“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.
“What’s this one?” Dean asks.
“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance.
This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing.
“What does it mean?” he asks.
You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”
Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.”
You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot.
“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”
Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.
As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.
“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”
Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit.
You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest.
“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.”
You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”
You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders.
He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.
“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”
You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance.
“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.
“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles.
You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss.
You stop him with your finger on his lips.
“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question.
“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking.
“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”
Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”
You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts.
You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine.
After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close.
Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.
He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.
A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.
“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.
So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there.
And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms.
A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.
He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.
You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.
Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)
You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze.
“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him.
“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.
Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.
Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs.
“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye.
You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin.
“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”
Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms.
Oh, fuck yeah.
A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs.
Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up.
Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.
Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control.
So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.
And suddenly, he blinks them open again.
“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls.
You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums.
He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk.
You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground.
Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.
“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit.
He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck.
“What, now you’re shy?��� he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”
He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.
“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”
A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you.
“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.
Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...
“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.
It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.
Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.
“Oh, yeah?” you ask.
Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”
A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”
At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.
“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”
Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love.
Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.
You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze.
“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease.
His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts.
“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”
You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.
But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs.
“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”
When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.
So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.
However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase.
It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room.
“Damn it, Dean!”
You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest.
“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”
Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”
“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.
Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room.
But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again.
When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.
Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.
I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.
AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️
Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:
(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)
[During their fight]:
“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”
Translation:
“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”
[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]:
“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”
Translation:
“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”
Keep Reading:
Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):
Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.
▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)
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I know requests are closed but 1. I need to write this down before it falls from my skull and 2. I just want to offer you this general concept for the brain worms not as a request.
Achilles is well and happy to be tortured, yes, but what if despite that(or more likely because he knows he'll get beat more) he is very resistant to being feminized. Gotta make him a pretty princess but he hisses and yells that he is a man and you can't change him. But no, no, it's not changing him, it's revealing his true self; a pretty little pet who is so obedient and feminine.
-🪼
god i love this idea so much. i love forced fem so much!!!
idk why achilles just makes me wanna go hard even when i shouldn't.
cw;; blood, nsft, torture, forced fem, non con undressing, humiliation
i really like nonsexual forced fem like i feel like if it was for sex they could at least justify it in their mind but forcing them to wear something around the house or out in public is so much worse. they can't justify it and they can tell themselves over and over it's for you but when you're not even looking at them it doesn't feel like it's for you anymore.
achilles got out of the bath and stared blankly at the lacey panties and pretty skirt you laid out for him. this wasn't right he was sure you had set out another suit for him. he raised his voice just enough to call for you but it seemed you weren't listening. he wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up the clothing. he came to find you in the living room. you were with a friend. it was one of your work friends who knew about your relationship with achilles but that did nothing for his embarrassment.
"why aren't you dressed yet?"
"i... i couldn't find my clothes."
"chilles i can literally see them in your hands."
his eyes darted away. you let out a heavy sigh and stood up. achilles instinctively flinched as you approached him but you didn't care instead you ripped his clothes from his hands.
"I'm sorry about him. he clearly isn't getting it through his head." you grabbed the corner of his towel and before achilles could open his mouth you ripped it off exposing his lower body to the open air.
"god you're so embarrassing." you didn't even sound amused just annoyed. "now get your clothes on."
achilles turned to leave, his face burning red, but you grabbed his arm firmly. you pulled him back to the middle of the room with an annoyed look on your face.
"i don't trust you not to wear what i gave you. put it on right here."
achilles swallowed hard, he couldn't bring himself to raise his head because the overwhelming embarrassment was too much.
"you-you have my clothes, sir."
"mhm. so ask nicely for them."
"may i please have my cloth-"
you huffed in annoyance, indicating he'd done it wrong but you didn't raise your hand to strike him. like you were so disappointed in him that he wasn't worth hitting. that hurt worse than the actual pain would have.
his breath hitched as he opened his mouth again to try and correct himself but you cut him off. "what should I hand you first?"
"th-the under-"
you huffed again.
"my-my panties... please hand me my panties,sir." it was the most humiliating way he could think to phrase it and it seemed to please you as you handed him the thin lacey garment.
achilles closed his eyes tight trying to pretend he wasn't getting dressed in front of another person. there was no pretending away that his cock had gotten hard even as he pulled the lace over it. you helped him out, fixing his leaking member into the slightly too tight underwear.
when he finally opens his eyes again you're holding up the skirt. underwear is one thing but that skirt is too much.
"please- i.. i don't want to."
you roll your eyes at that.
"do i have to put it on you" you sound so disappointed.
"i don't want to... I'm not a woman."
"why are you being so difficult? you're usually so well behaved." you look at your guest and then back to him with a scowl.
"oh. do you think he'll help you? do you think if you throw a little fit, act like I'm forcing you, he's going to help you? do you think he'll save you? do you need to be saved now, achilles?" every word you say is filled with venom. you must know exactly how much your words are getting to him, the way they make him feel guilty and disgusting. you even manage to look hurt behind all that anger in your eyes.
"no i- i- please.... i just don't want to b-"
"could you go wait in the car... im sorry about this." you let out a deep sigh. your friend leaves the room so it's just you and achilles.
as soon as you both hear the front door shut achilles attempts to open his mouth only for you to punch him in the stomach as hard as you can. you watch him crumple to the floor in pain as one of his wounds reopens. you kick him onto his back so you can climb over top of him. you sit on his chest with the skirt in your hands and all achilles can do is kick and flail.
"you stupid fucking girl. you embarrass me in front of my guest. you tell me-" you elbow him in another wound making him howl in pain, his legs straightening enough for you to shove them down. "you tell me no? and now, you're fucking fighting me."
you elbow him one more time to get him to give up his struggling. his body goes limp as he sobs underneath you. you make sure to pull his legs in the most painful way as you start forcing his skirt onto his body.
"you are a pretty girl. you're my pretty girl. and no amount of throwing fits or asking others to save you is going to change that. do you get that?" you yank his skirt up over his legs.
you notice that the wound you'd been elbowing has reopened and he's bleeding all over his shirt. he knows he's in so much trouble but all he can do is sob.
"im not a girl.." you hear him mutter through tears.
"you don't get to decide that. you don't get to decide anything." you slowly pick yourself off of him.
"I'll clean you up and change you since you're such a big baby. and when i get back from hanging out with my friends you're fucking in for it. maybe while I'm gone you can come up with how you're going to apologize."
achilles just laid there, bleeding and sobbing. everytime he tried to close his eyes he would feel a breeze over his legs and fresh tears would flow from his eyes. the humiliation of being forced to be your pretty girl was one thing but knowing how angry you were at him, how much he'd disappointed you hurt worse. he didn't want to be a girl he didn't want you to be angry at him and yet here he was. the old wound soaking his shirt and giving him a stabbing pain everytime he let out his shakey sobbing breaths seemed like a fitting punishment. of course that was for you to decide, not him.
you cleaned up his wound and changed his shirt in silence. when you pulled out the pink bedazzled shirt you gave him a look, daring him to say something but he didn't. you were clearly still angry at him but you treated him just as gently as you always did. he couldn't help but lean into your touch as you cleaned up his face.
"'m sorry..." his voice was small and weak.
you let out a heavy sigh before you picked him up with ease and brought him over to the couch.
"... i know you're sorry, sweet girl." he flinched at your words. "you were very bad, though. so when I get home you're losing all rights to boy mode. no more suits, no more he/him, no more achilles. I'll pick you out a pretty girl name."
he whimpered softly as his chest got tight.
"do you understand?"
"y-yes sir..."
"now say I'm a good girl."
"I'm... I'm..." he struggled to say it, his breathing ragged, but when he looked in your eyes he could still see the disappointment from before. "I'm a good girl."
"yes you are." you leaned in and kissed his forehead. "be a good, princess."
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Even tho I'm really bad at giving ideas, maybe something with james sneaking into your bedroom at night?
Warnings: Slight size kink, vague pain kink if you squint, rough sex, unprotected sex.
Wordcount: 3,371
The muffled sounds of rowdy laughter from downstairs thrummed against the back of Y/N’s skull like a constant unwavering presence. It hurt, it was too loud, too overstimulating. Harshly she pinched the skin between her eyebrows, if she caused more pain there maybe it would distract her from the worsening headache…it didn’t. She really didn’t want to be that person, the annoying roommate who ruined everyone else’s fun by telling them to shut the fuck up on a Saturday night. If she could just tune it out it would be okay, deep breaths, close her eyes.
Her feet were hitting the plushness of her carpeted floor before she could stop them. Soft padding sounds as she strode across her room and pushed open the door. With gentle thuds she made her way downstairs. Gathered in her living room was her roommate, along with her boyfriend Lars and his bandmates. She knew them well enough, Cliff, Dave and James. They were here every weekend. Maybe it was because they had a seemingly never ending supply of booze in the house, or maybe it was because of the way James’s eyes always seemed to linger on her.
Y/N couldn’t deny that James was cute. She would be blind to not see it, he was tall, lean, had sandy blonde hair that truthfully looked like it hadn’t seen conditioner once in its life but was pretty nonetheless. Even the spattering of acne across his cheeks and jaw was endearing. However cute he was though, didn’t make up for the fact that all of them were loud. She frowned at all of them gently. “Hey Y/N, you good?” Her roommate asked her kindly.
With a wince Y/N rubbed at her temples, trying to soothe the headache that had gripped her skull and violently shook it. “I am so sorry but could you guys be just…a little quieter.” It was kinder than what she really wanted to scream at them. Tell them all to shut the fuck up and stop yelling at two in the morning. She watched the guy’s faces fall at her request, a soft grumbled agreement passing over the group. Her roommate smiling apologetically at her. “Thank you,” She sighed softly and nodded at them.
It didn’t bother her so much that she could hear Lars and Dave bitching about her as she turned to walk back up the stairs. She didn’t need them to like her, she didn’t care what they thought. As long as her roommate didn’t hate her and she could keep the peace she was content. Finally it was quiet upstairs the sounds from downstairs no longer filtering up, her room becoming a sweet sanctuary as she flipped the lights off. The pounding in her head easing up as she took a sip of the lukewarm water on her nightstand and crawled back into her bed.
Her eyes closed as she leaned back against her pillows, the softness cradling her head gently. She wanted to will herself to sleep, her mind opting to daydream about a certain tall blonde guitarist. She hardly knew James and that made it easier for her to inflict her own assumptions of what his personality was like onto her fictionalized version of him. Sometimes he was soft and sweet, laying her down and kissing her stupid until she passed out. Other’s she pictured his toned body holding her down against the bed and breaking her in over and over. It was easy to crush on a pretty boy when you didn’t know him.
There was a warm crackling beneath her ribcage as she let herself get sucked into the never ending loop of fantasies she had on repeat in her head. Her palm sliding down her body slowly, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms. The soft pad of her fingers pressing against the dampening fabric of her panties. Then there was a creak, a soft stream of light dancing across the backs of her eyelids as her door was pushed open.
With a jump she yanked her hand out from beneath her pants as she sat up straight like a metal rod had replaced her spine. Her eyes snapping open just in time to see the dim light from the hallway disappear as her door closed once more. However standing at the end of her room was a dark tall silhouette, walking towards her slowly and hesitant. “James?” She hissed in surprise.
“Don’t stop on my account.” The soft raspiness to his voice made her stomach twist. The way he spoke was like he was trying to be confident but there was an underlying hint of shyness that surprised her. For being the front man of a metal band he seemed…soft and uncertain of himself. “You looked really pretty, I wanna see more.” Her bed dipped at the end under the weight of his knees. His body slowly crawled atop hers.
James’s rough calloused fingers wrapped around her hand, gently grabbing her wrist and guiding her hand back to the waistband of her pajamas. She could faintly see his features as her eyes adjusted to him in the dark once more. “What are you doing?” She asked hesitantly but she didn’t fight the way he moved her arm.
He smiled softly at her. “You looked like you were in a lot of pain so I came to check if you were okay.” He mumbled, his head dipping down beside hers. She could feel his breath ghosting across the skin of her neck. He smelt like booze, cigarettes and leather. It was weirdly intoxicating. “Seems like you’re doing okay though…you sound really nice moaning my name.” He teased her. Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, had she been saying his name? She hadn’t even realized she had been making any noises. His hand was guiding hers further beneath her bottoms. Then his lips pressed against the side of her jaw and she let out a strangled gasp. He spoke against her skin. “Wanna show me how you touch yourself when you think about me?”
His heavy hand pressed her finger tips against her wet heat through the fabric of her underwear once more, guiding her hand to roll soft circles across her clit. His lips marked a path down to where her neck met her shoulder. A soft moan spilled from her lips as he continued to press his hand down against her own forcing her to touch herself. The whole situation felt unreal, like something straight out of one of her daydreams. But this was different, a different possibility to the way she usually imagined James. He was soft and romantic or rough and demanding. He was nervous, sweet and eager underneath a facade of indifference. She liked the unexpected .
Y/N pulled her hand back, watched as he pulled away from her neck with a disappointed look. “You said you wanted to watch?” She asked quietly as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her pajamas and underwear, tugging them down her thighs in one go. He smiled in relief, his eyes dropping down between her legs and he sucked in a harsh breath. James settled back on his knees, his heavy hands moving to push her legs further apart for a better view.
“You’re prettier than I imagined.” he hummed appreciatively. His calloused thumbs rubbed small circles into the milky flesh of her inner thighs. Y/N flushed softly at that. He imagined her? The same way she imagined him. Absently she wondered if she was living up to his preconceived notions of her personality. “C’mon touch yourself.” It was commanding, like he had taken a small shot of confidence.
Her hand dipped gingerly down to press her fingers against her puffy swollen clit. She let out a shaky sigh at the relief it brought. Every motion seemed to be intensified underneath James’s piercing gaze. Her eyes fluttered close to avoid the intensity of his eyes as she worked herself in slow gentle motions. It was a little more tame than the way she would usually work herself fast and hard to bring her release quickly, but if he wanted a show she would give it to him. Two fingers slipped down and sunk into herself, warm and wet constricting around the intrusion. “Oh fuck,” Y/N gasped, throwing her head back against the pillows.
James choked out a groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of her legs where he kept her propped open. “Yeah just like that beautiful, fuck you’re so hot.” He encouraged her. His cock was straining so hard against the front of his jeans he thought he might pop the button on them. One hand left Y/N’s thighs to press his palm down harshly against his hard on, the friction providing little relief. “Tell me how you think about me fucking you.” He groaned.
With a wet pop Y/N pulled her fingers from herself, watching as the slick that coated her hand dripped onto her stomach as she rested her hand there. Her chest heaving with soft pants. “T-think about you fucking me raw.” She mumbled, her hands sliding up her body to push her shirt up, the fabric pooling underneath her chin as she exposed her chest to James, reveling in the way his breath hitched at the sight. “Want you to split me open, wreck me for anyone else, over and over again.” Her hands reached out, hooking her fingers into his belt loops and tugging him closer.
“Yeah?” James grunted, shuffling his knees forward so he was better pressed against her body. A wetness spread across the denim from where he settled his hips against her. “S’that what you want?” His fingers tapped impatiently against the flesh of her thighs as he rolled his hips against her seeking some sort of friction to ease the tension. “You can have it baby, help me out here a little.” He nodded down towards the strain in his jeans.
Quickly Y/N scrambled up onto her knees, tugging her shirt fully off her body. She leaned up to kiss him, it was instantly sloppy and wet, his tongue pushing into her mouth without waiting. Her hands pressed against the front of his jeans, palming him teasingly through the fabric and he groaned into her mouth. Pulling back just a bit to mumble against her lips. “Quit fucking teasing and pull it out.”
The words shot heat straight down to her core, she was pretty sure she was dripping onto her sheets and she would definitely need to wash them tomorrow. Her fingers clumsily popped open the button, sliding the zipper down carefully over the straining bulge. James let out a breathy sigh of relief as some of the pressure was taken off. She let him devour her mouth once more, tongue fucking her throat until she couldn’t breath as she reached into his underwear.
The weight in her palm made her pull back from the kiss in surprise, her eyes going wide as she looked down at his length in her hand. She slid it down to the base before wrapping the next one around him above it, and his tip still peaked out from beneath her fists. She whimpered softly at the sight. “Fuck, s’gonna hurt.” She whispered in disbelief. It was so pretty, reddened and hard. Shiny with the spread of his pre cum around the head.
James laughed softly, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked down to watch her smaller hands pump him slowly. It was hardly enough pressure to relieve him but it made his hips stutter anyways. “I think you can take it.” He hummed as he pushed her back against the mattress. He quickly reached behind him, tugging his shirt off by the collar and tossing it somewhere in her dark room. He pushed his jeans down just enough to fully tug his cock out, his balls resting against the waistband of his boxers.
There was an unmistakable hunger in Y/N’s eyes as her gaze stayed trained on him, the way the veins in his arm strained as he stroked himself slowly. “I can.” She nodded in determination. Her tongue flicked out to wet her bottom lip in anticipation. “Wanna take it all.” She whined, her hips jutting up off the bed in anticipation.
“All of it?” James asked, raising an eyebrow as he repositioned himself between her legs, resting his weight on one hand beside her head. His other hand grasped the base of his length as he gently rubbed the tip across her wet folds, causing Y/N to whimper and squirm against the feeling once more. “You sure about that baby?” He teased, rubbing the head across her swollen clit.
Y/N’s hands flew up to dig her nails into James’s bare shoulders. Her mouth parting prettily as she let out a soft moan. He was relentless in rubbing against her and it made her eyes roll into the back of her head. “Fuck, James please.” She pleaded, tilting her hips up so his tip got caught on her entrance for just a moment. “I can take it all, want it all, want you to stretch me open please.” She was trying to push herself back, fuck herself onto his length.
One heavy hand came to wrest on her pelvis, pushing her hips back against the mattress firmly. “Fuck, wait a minute.” James sighed, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. ‘Didn’t realize you were so cock drunk baby.” He grinned lazily at her as he pressed his hips forward. His confidence had skyrocketed tenfold when he realized just how eager she was for him. Slowly he pushed the head of his cock into her. The warm tight heat enveloping him and making him moan. His head dropped down to her shoulder as he shuddered. “God I just want to destroy your pretty little cunt.”
With each inch that he pushed inside her the air was pushed from her lungs almost violently. She could feel him everywhere. She could feel him in her stomach, behind her ribs in her throat. “Destroy me then.” She gasped, her legs coming to wrap around his waist and pull him closer, forcing more of his length inside her until he was buried to the hilt. She could feel his tip pressing uncomfortably against her cervix but the pain was worth it. To feel him so fully inside her, his balls heavy and pressed against the flesh of her ass, it was exhilarating.
He bottomed out with a grunt. His heavy raspy voice right beside her ear and making her head spin as he spoke lowly to her. “Yeah, want me to abuse this fucking pussy until no other dick could ever satisfy you?” It was raw and primal. Each word had her stomach tightening, the coil of arousal threatening to snap and unleash at any moment. His hips rocked slowly at first, barely pulling out before pushing back in hard. The force of the thrusts pushing her against the mattress firmly.
“God, yes James,” She whined and she realized she was being too loud. Ironically she bet that everyone downstairs could hear her right now. “Please, please fuck you’re so big it hurts so good.” Her hands slid down from his shoulders and over his back, tugging his body in closer to hers so she could feel his weight holding her down. “Don’t hold back please, wanted this for so long.”
Something within James snapped hearing her moan his name like that, pleading for him to use her. He leaned his weight on her, dropping his head to suck one of her perky nipples into his mouth as his hands came down to hold her waist. His grip was almost bruising as he pressed her down into the sheets. In one fluid motion he pulled out almost to the tip before slamming himself back into her with a force that made the headboard hit the wall behind it. “Fuck, Y/N.” He growled, biting down gently around her tit as he set his harsh pace.
It hurt, it hurt so bad that it made her eyes widened, but god it felt so good. She was pretty sure he was bruising her insides, she didn’t think she would be able to walk the next day the way his cock brutally pistoned itself against her walls. His lips suctioned around her nipple, teasing the hardened nub with his teeth. She hissed and winced, tears springing to her eyes at the intensity of it all, she was drowning in it, in him and she loved it. “D-don't stop, oh my g-god.” She cried out, head tilting back against her pillows.
His blunt nails dug into the skin of her hips, it was a dull pain compared to the rest of the way he was using her body. The creaking of her bed and rhythmic thump against the wall was almost comical. His long blonde hair splayed out across her chest as he leaned his full weight against her. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight, taking me so well.” He groaned. His hips thrust into her, forcing soft wet noises from between them. “Not gonna last long with you squeezing me like that, god.” He hissed.
The sentiment was shared but Y/N couldn’t find the words at the moment. The only noises she was able to make were pathetic whines and jumbled moans that vaguely sounded like James’s name. Blinding hot white heat pooled in her stomach, traveling down her thighs as it threatened to overflow. “James, fuck I'm gonna-” She gasped her back arching off the bed. “Fuck I’m coming!” She squealed as she spasmed around him. She clenched down hard as her stomach tightened and then relaxed, a wave of wet warmth gushing around James’s cock, still fucking into her with reckless abandon.
It was too much stimulation, her hands desperately clawing at his skin, anywhere she could touch him while he continued to fuck her through her orgasm. “Just like that pretty girl, fuck you feel so good.” He praised her gently. He lifted his head from her chest to press his lips against her own. There was a little more thought behind this kiss, sweeter, more gently as they slotted together. “Gonna come in you okay?” He mumbled against her lips.
Y/N nodded dumbly as she chased his lips, desperate to keep them pressed together. She didn’t care, he could do whatever he wanted to her as long as he kept holding her like this, kissing her like this. She whined against his lips as his hips stuttered and still, burying himself impossibly deep. His cock twitched as warmth spilled inside her in hard spurts. She could feel every little movement and it was addicting.
Finally James pulled back with a gasp, his chest heaving as he leaned up onto his elbows, caging himself around her body as he looked down at her, the pupils of his eyes blown out completely enveloping that pretty blue color. He shifted his hips pulling himself from her cunt along with a wave of their mixed release, sticky and thick as it dripped down between them onto her sheets. “Holy fuck.” He mumbled, smiling lazily at her. “That was…wow.”
“That’s putting it lightly.” She laughed breathlessly, looking up at him in awe. “Jesus Christ, can we do that again sometime?” She joked playfully, but her smile was soft as she looked up at him. Her hands gently rubbing up and down his straining arms as he hovered over her. He rolled off to the side, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her against his chest. It was a surprisingly affectionate gesture.
His lips ghosted beside her ear as he spoke. “Yeah just, lemme take you on a date first.” He mumbled. The thought had Y/N’s insides warm and fuzzy like tv static. “Please,” He tacked on at the end, his arm curling tighter against her bare waist. How could she say no to that?
“Yeah, okay…take me on a date.”
#metallica#metallica fanfiction#metallica/reader#james hetfield/reader#james hetfield x reader#james hetfield
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◀ | ◼ | ▶
[NONVERBAL SUN AU: LUNAR]
Moon skipped around. He was finally learning how to walk! Sun watched him, smiling softly. It was after hours again, with all the kids going home. Moon stopped abruptly, looking at a barrel. He then walked over to Sun, poking his shoulder. Sun turned to look at him. "What's wrong, Moon?" the solar animatronic asked. Moon blinked. "I feel weird" Moon responded. Sun sighed, as Moon sat down. Sun got on his knees and powered him off. Then, he went into the mindscape.
Moon's mind was...peaceful. It was a nice little island, with the nighttime sky shining down on it. The light of the moon illuminated the walls of a gazebo in the middle. Then, he saw something. It was quick, but Sun noticed. It looked like Moon, but it glowed. It was smaller than Moon, about 6'7. Sun walked over to the gazebo, the midnight moon shining a light that let him see. The stars glowed softly in the night sky, so beautiful it looked unreal. Sun put a hand on the door frame as he peeked inside. He saw the glowing blue eyes. "Hello?" he asked, and his voice echoed into the vast darkness surrounding him.
"Yes?" a smaller, higher voice greeted him. He flinched, surprised, but quickly gathered himself together. "Why are you in my brother's head?" Sun asked. "Head? This is my home!" the voice responded. Sun, taken aback, responded with a sharp "This isn't your home, this is my brother's head!" in which the voice replied with a raspberry sound. Sun walked in, and when the blue eyed thing tried running, he caught it. Staring it dead in the eyes, he realized it was none other than a kid. Mentally, at least.
"Who are you." Sun asked it. "I'm Lunar!" it responded. Sun, surprised, put it down. "Lunar, eh?" he said. "Tell me, Lunar, why are you occupying my brother's mind?" "Because I was made here and I live here!" Lunar responded back sharply. Sun glared at him. He was REALLY not liking this kid. "Listen. You're gonna stop causing my brother discomfort, okay?" he said sternly. "But I'm bored!" Lunar responded with, annoyed. "I'LL GET YOU SOME GAMES, ALRIGHT?" Sun snapped, making Lunar flinch under his voice. It took him a bit to realize that the guy was tearing up. He sighed in exasperation.
"Look. Sorry for yelling. I'll get you some games, okay? But stop making Moon uncomfortable." he told Lunar. Lunar silently nodded as Sun left the mindscape. When returned, Moon was powered back on, hugging him. "I feel better, brother!!!" Moon exclaimed happily, to which Sun pat his back. "Good...that's good..." he said softly. "Sunny, we must be close in EVERY universe, right?" he said happily.
"..." Sun didn't have the heart to say that a universe probably existed where nothing was as good as now. "Yeah...probably..."
I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH!!! The island is where Moon died originally though...
Tagging people who might like it even if we aren't mutuals: @goodolddumbbanana @noinoi999 @ikamigami @multifandomcutie13 @thekillermaretwinz @inkyucu @skyuvu123 @ryomaandgundhamkin @coffee-the-bat @sen-sational @dagh0stking @ilikescience-confession-blog @tsamsconfessions123 @silly-a-777 @nosleepygay @eddwardharrison @bloodmoon-da-idiot @lunarlovesbeanbags @mo0ndr0p @sleepy-hall @a-fucking-tornado @rayofmfsunshine1201 @darksuns-beloved-pet @letthebloodrunlikeariver @astrofairy06 @sunny-sourzii @upsidedownapple @yelesomeblue @deyisacherry @zampop2 @h-didanart and literally anyone else. Half the people on here are not my mutuals and half of them are. If you would like your tag removed, just ask me and I gladly will. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
#nonverbal sun au#tsams#sun and moon show#sunandmoonshow#the sun and moon show#lunar sams#past lunar tsams#tsams lunar#sams lunar#sams sun#sun sams#tsams sun#sun tsams#moon sams#sams moon#tsams moon#moon tsams#old moon sams#old moon tsams#tsams old moon#sams old moon#fnaf sun and moon#fnaf sun#sundrop#fnaf moon#moondrop#moon
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。☆ Who Is This Diva✦
。☆Content: Izuku Midoriya BF headcanons
。☆Cw: a few uses of she/her, one singular pregnancy mention, no use of y/n, light cursing
✦ Always writing in that damn notebook, there is nothing you can say or do that won't end up there
✦ If you're creeped out by it, he will commit what you said to memory and write it down later
✦ The best gift giver. He notices everything about you. From your face to your body to your brain. All of his gifts are thoughtful
✦ Didn't know how to do his own hair until Mina showed him, however if you know how to do it he'll play dumb
"My hair... ? Y-Yeah, Mina normally helps me with it, b-but I seen you take care of your own so... Do you mind helping me instead ? Not that Mina isn't great, b-but she isn't you... Sorry, is that a weird thing to say ?"
✦ Sometimes YOU are the third wheel when Katsuki's around. Good luck with that.
✦ Nervous forever. Constantly apologizing. Trips over everything when you're around. His face is always bright red. Nervous talker for sure. Heaven forbid you compliment him, he might pass out on the spot
✦ He stays on Uraraka's phone. He needs advice before he does anything, especially if you're a girl. He used to take advice from Kaminari, and then he learned his lesson ( ╹▽╹ )
"I-It's not sexist to assume she likes flowers just cause she's a girl right ?.... What ?! Of course I know that not all girls like flowers !! .... N-No way I can't just ask her. What if she thinks I'm weird" (╥﹏╥)
✦ Doodles you everywhere. Aizawa is fed up with the scribbled pictures of you in all the corners of his homework. He's debating whether or not he should take point off his papers just to get him to stop. Mic and All Might think it's cute
✦ All this to say he is the sweetest ever. He makes sure to know every single thing about you, it borders on obsession. He follows you around like a lost puppy. His receiving love language is physical touch/quality time, and his giving love language is gift giving and acts of service
✦ Izuku is selfless to a fault, but when it comes to you he can't help but be selfish. No matter how much he gives to you, he feels justified because your love, affection, time, and attention, is the ultimate prize.
☆ PROHERO ☆
✦ Interviewers are tired of hearing about you. Any questions lead right back to what you're doing, something you've said, what you think, what you look like. It doesn't matter as long as it's about you
✦ Puts your needs first which can be really nice, but definitely neglects himself in the process. Like this man has chronic pain in his hands, but will stay up until ungodly hours giving himself carpal tunnel making something that you didn't even ask for just bc he knew you'd like it
✦ If you're not a prohero (hell, even if you are), Izuku is overprotective. His worst fear is you being taken from him in any sense of the word. Losing you isn't something he would ever get over
✦ Rarely ever yells, but when he does he sounds just like Katsuki. It's annoying how much like Katsuki he sounds. Otherwise though, he prefers to concede to whatever you want, the only time serious arguments occur is if it's about something like your safety
"Shouto, I'm gonna throw myself off a cliff... No she's not hurt she's perfectly fine don't even joke about that !!! .... The problem ? Shou she's so mad at me.... Don't look at me like that, I'm serious !"
✦ A sass monster. Rarely ever to your face, most of the time it's just a mutter under his breath that you barely catch but you just know he said something smart.
✦ If your first language isn't Japanese then trust and believe he's learning whatever your native tongue is. He has the cutest accent too. If he's feeling bold he'll use your lessons as an excuse to flirt with you, and after that there's a high chance you won't get anything done
✦ NOT a morning person. Clings to you and the bed like his life depends on it. Moaning and groaning in your ears about how mean you are to him, how could you make him get up for early morning patrol ? Death for 10 thousand years have been cursed upon him.
"Hmm ? I don' care 'bour the alarm. Turn it off... Where you goin' ? Noooo don' go shh i's okay, mhmm it snoozes itself. Jus' lay back down, yeah 'xactly baby.... Hmm ? Late ? Patrol ? OHMYGOD PATROL !!"
✦ Pet name extraordinaire. It takes a while until he finds his favorite, so he spends his time cycling through all types of sweet names. Anything from baby to darling to pookiebear to beautiful. He probably doesn't stray too far into weird names, but he dips his toes in if it feels right.
✦ Won't admit it, but he loves it when you flaunt him to your friends. Makes him feel like a big strong man, especially when you feel up his arms. His face flushes bright red and he tries to wave it off but he stutters so much that his sentence is barely distinguishable, but of course that only makes you want to do it more
✦ When you get married it's honestly been inevitable, especially if you met while in highschool. If it was only up to Izuku you would've been married within the month, but lucky for you he has self restraint. If you both want kids they truly won't be far behind marriage, and if you thought he was obsessive before just imagine if you get pregnant.
First post,, how exciting !! Not sure if I'm sticking with this format, but I think I like it. My blog is almost completely set up and I have a few reblogs so... My askbox is open if you so please (◕ᴗ◕✿)
Who f/w black Izuku like I do ?? 🗣️🗣️
。☆Requests open
#midoriya izuku x reader#midoriya izuku x you#deku x reader#deku x y/n#deku x you#mha x reader#mha x you#mha x y/n#black reader#˗ˏˋ ★ Deku ★ ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ ★ MHA ★ ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ ★ Venus writes ★ ˎˊ˗
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right now i'm very torn between "taking critique is important as an artist and it's not an attack on me personally" and "people commenting about my same face syndrome under my posts upsets me an unreasonable amount and i wish they would stop doing it"
#ramble#sorry i am not having a good art day today#i'm TRYING i promise#this is 100% a me problem and i hate it#i think it's because when i have a Problem with my art. i need to fix it INSTANTLY#and that's not how art improvement works#idk why it gets to me so much i can't explain it#even if it's polite and means well it makes me feel weird and i don't know why#maybe because i thought i was way better about it than i used to be but right now i'm getting it way more#yes i know posting art means you have to take people's opinions#but how do i say 'please do not leave lengthy critique under my art that i make for fun when i didn't ask for it' w/o sounding like an ass#i just feel like. i would never go to a fic and point out all the writing mistakes in the comments if the author didn't ask for it. idk#i'm fighting really hard not to yell 'IT'S MY ART STYLE' bc that's not an excuse obvs
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man laios is like soooo asexual. just overflowing with the vibes. If you get it you get it if you don't you will stay off my post like a polite person
#i speak#Sorry if I sound rude I'm just really tired of people coming onto my ace headcanon posts to yell at me about how I'm soooo wrong#dungeon meshi#you know that thing that happens sometimes? With a character and you're like I literally personally cannot see this character as anything#Else#that's been me with laios#And before you try and yell at me 'ohhh but he's not ace he totally a monster fucker mehh yadda yadda' is that not. Rather popular among ac
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/// > Just know this is what you're talking to when you interact with me.
/// > (Click for better quality please)
#the harlen ellison glasses :]#I'm just an old crunchy desktop computer that talks back to you#and messes up tasks on purpose#been there for as long as anyone can remember#takes as long as possible to do what you want#yells at you#has only one volume and that is Loud.#awful text-to-speech function that sounds suspiciously like Allied Mastercomputer#computerkin#techkin#my art#'puter#no id#< sorry
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every day I see someone online like "all my friends hate me" and I want to shake them by the shoulders like. that is a mean thing to say about your friends!! they don't deserve that. It's such a hard lesson to learn and you have to keep internalizing it until you die but you all need to fucking start sometimes!!! if ur friends are ur friends then they don't hate you. that is how friends work. I'm sorry your childhood was bad or you've had toxic friend groups in the past but it is mean to your friends to continue to think this when they've given you no reason to. It is a mean thing to think about them.
#sorry I just!!! it grinds my gears to see those posts on my dash all the time#like please stop being mean to your friends#they don't deserve that#and it's hard to internalize I know!!! its so hard!!!!#but you simply must start at some point#otherwise you'll be stuck in that cycle forever#this post sounds harsh and I'm gonna get yelled at by the no nuance crew but alas#I am personally annoyed and this is a vent post
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Honestly kind of lame of CS Forester not to go in for the weird Narnia ending. Think of how fun that could have been
#don't read these tags if you don't want spoilers i'm going to put spoilers in the tags#but i just finished admiral and i think it would have been fun if they had all died actually. sorry that sounds horrible but genuinely#it would have been better than the actual ending#which was fine it was just stupidboring heroics and i did not come here for that#someone needs to write a fic in which they all perish in the hurricane and hornblower actually tells barbara that he doesn't love her#and maybe maaaaybe she's also honest with him but either way he realizes that this is not what he wants and not how he wants to go out#or it's a tragedy and he doesn't realize that and dies an empty shell of a guy! either way it's more compelling#cs forester setting up so many dynamics that he refuses to deliver on and i'm so glad i'm finished so now i can just go back and fix it#or read the parts i like and nothing else. god. he's not even that bad at setting up interesting stuff that's the crazy part#but man do those books drive me up a wall when it comes to reader satisfaction i am NOT having it#anyways i'll now cease being grumpy and go off and read ursula leguin or something yay#perce rambles#percy yells at cecil scott#<- thank GOODNESS i am free of him (guy who read these books willingly in his free time)
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your intern fic recs. give me them 🤲
The thing about that is, well...
youtube
I…fell like I need to give a little disclaimer here: When it comes to fanfic I am both unpleasable and unreasonable. I have impossible, exacting standards for fiction of all kinds and a longstanding alliance with my back button. I am a goddamn fanfic cat, turning up my nose at anything that's not EXACTLY to my liking. It's too hot, it's too cold, it smells funny, it's too emotional, it's not emotional enough, the characters are OOC, the characters aren't pushed far enough out of their comfort zone, the prose is too simple, the prose is too flowery, the formatting is hard to read, the dialogue's not right, is that a GRAMMATICAL ERROR, etc etc.
That said, I can probably scrounge up some recs...
OK I guess I can start with one I can't even start to pretend to be unbiased about: 2hoots! Especially the Junior Agent Case Files and ESPECIALLY especially The Paris Affair. I have beta'd for him as he has beta'd for me, and I love watching his stuff come together behind the scenes because it's all great. Also a card carrying member of the Norma Natividad Defense Squad, which certainly appeals to me personally. (There are dozens of us! DOZENS!!!)
Psychic Scouts Shouldn’t Apply Hair Dye Unsupervised by KibaSniper. KibaSniper has one metric fuckton of Psychonauts fic and I'm not going to go through them all individually. I'm singling this one out in particular because I like small moments between the Natividad sisters. If that isn't to your liking...well, there's enough there with enough variety that the odds are in your favor.
Pit Stop by fizzysugarwrites. The interns and the Aquatos are uniquely suited for a Band AU and this one nails the character interactions quite handily. The dialogue crackles and the character interplays are so much fun. This is one that you need to be logged in to see, but I'm assuming that at this point most people have an AO3 account that wants one.
Snow Day by the_angst_alchemist. Just a cute little scene of Raz getting to enjoy a snow day with the interns. Doesn't need to be more than that, yeah?
#psychonauts#If your favorite fic isn't on my list...sorry#I probably yelled THIS ISN'T MY FANCY FEAST IN A CRYSTAL GOBLET WITH A PARSLEY SPRIG and knocked it off the table#Please know that I also don't live up to my own standards like...ever#I am the exhausting auteur director yelling at my scriptwriter (myself) and micromanaging my set designers (myself) and sound designers#(Who are also myself)#I hope I'm ok to my editors (betas) though#I could have sworn I had more than this#I am also really bad at bookmarking things I like#'of course I can find it later of course I'll remember' YOU (meaning me) IDIOT
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I wanna scream into an endless void
#vent#I'm sick of living here#I'm sick of being someone's “daughter”#I can't even be me I can't speak without being yelled out even in a “calm conversation”#“I don't want to be harsh” really? FUCK YOU#FUCK YOU FUCK YOU YOUR NOT MY MOTHER IN MY SOUL ANYMORE#WHO ARE YOU!?#My cat is fucking dying and what are you doing!?#I don't want to see him like this#While your out and fucking around with you stupid fucking boyfriend#You never truly want to talk to me don't fucking act like you do#If you did you'd let me talk and engage!#YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT YOURSELF#And when I rightfully express my feelings about how you talk and treat me?#It's always my fault thay I don't talk or do anything or wanna go out#If I don't look or sound happy YOU BITE MY FUCKING HEAD OFF!!!!#I'M SICK OF IT#I'm a fucking adult but I can't leave#I'm never getting out of here#I'm trapped#I'm broke#I'm currently jobless#I'm such a fucking burden#But I think about ny cats and my friend#That's literally that's keeping me going#I love them all so much#They're my heartbeat#I'm sorry for venting#It's been hell lately#el speaks
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My math teacher vs the monotone that my voice goes into whenever I have to talk to someone I don't like but am trying very hard to be nice to
#I don't wawnt to go to school tmmr bro I am NOT looking forwards to seeing her#turtledove yells into the abyss#Also every time she gets mad at me for my tone I'm literally like 'girl that is how I talk' and she's like#'no it's NOT I've seen you talk to [friend I have in that class] and you don't sound like that!!'#Said friend is someone I've known since THIRD GRADE. THIRD FUCKING GRADE.#Also one time I was sitting down in a chair when we were supposed to be standing and she got mad at me so like#I told her I was sitting down bc my knees hurt and that they aren't the best knees (they aren't)#and she SCOFFED AT ME??? AND TURNED AWAY SO HAUTILY???????#WHAT DID MY KNEES DO!!!!!!!!!!!#turtledove is not vibing#sorry sould have probably tagged that sooner I just realized this is getting into vent territory LOL#fr tho the only reason I survive her class is bc of my friend. I don't think she has tumblr but T if you read this. thank you for being the#actualyl wait Django might read this Django if you read this you can show her#Bc I'm like. really bad at saying it upfront ok Django if you read this let her know she keeps me sane and I appreciate her more than#she might know
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QUILQUILQUIL i just hit a whole ass new level of “mutual on the dash”
you’re on my FUCKING PINTEREST FEED
Mutual on the pinterest! Hi from your pinterest feed :3--I wonder if this is the same post on pinterest someone else saw or if it's been reposted multiple times. I suppose both are possible
The fun thing about this post is that every so often I'll get notes on it, a series of people having deep, emotional damage moments in my tags meanwhile I'm seeing those tags in my notifs while I'm like. laughing my ass off making the stupidest shitposts imaginable. I feel like that awkward glance monkey puppet meme. They're all having this moment and I'm just here in a totally different mood because I've come to terms with many of the feelings this post was inspired by
But enough about that! I love when people encounter this post in the wild so thank you very much for telling me. It's cool to see how far its spread. hope you're doing well!
#quil's queries#even-if-in-another-time#all caps#another thing is every time I see this post I feel bad about including the part about my mom yelling#because like. its true but I feel like only knowing that mischaracterizes her#and every time I see it I wanna go my mother is a wonderful supportive kind attentive person#like yes she yelled at me when I was little but when I kept telling her not to (she didn't think she was yelling#because she grew up in a household with screaming and she thought /that/ was yelling. she realized that little me#didn't have that experience so to me she /was/ yelling at me)#she listened and reflected and went yeah you know what? I don't like that I'm doing that I'm going to change. and she did!#she is a very. how do I explain. she's always open to criticism and actually enacting it to be a better person#both my parents ended cycles from their childhoods and I'm very grateful for it. they're wonderful#and i feel like that one line makes her sound so much worse and i feel so bad about it i'm sorry mom#i was in a mood when I wrote it I'm sorry :(#anyway. i got way off track here#love my parents. willing to share because some of y'all post worrying things#also love my sister. though she's at the age where she withdraws from the world and finds herself and sorts herself out#so like. waiting patiently for her to do so to hopefully forge a better bond :)#I'm still getting off track damn#i'm in a chatty mood i have a lot of energy with no direction hmm#this could end badly
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There is a point at which school becomes just completely useless. There are skills you learn later on that (there's a big chance) you'll never need for your future job.
In maths, I consider it important to learn about converting numbers into percentages and working with scales. Everyone should know what a 20% discount on your 50$ shirt means‚ and how to look at a map with a scale and understand how far you gotta walk up to your destination. But trigonometry (the study of angles)? analytic geometry? fvcking prime numbers?? A kid should be able to opt out of that.
I'm personally too much of a sciences fan to tell you anything that wouldn't come around as useful later in your life‚ but mandatory physics is kind of an overkill. Why do schools force you to learn how to calculate which bus is gonna get the most damage from a boulder falling from heaven considering it's windy in Hawaii?
In my birth country‚ PE wasn't mandatory if you proved you were enrolled in sports outside of school. Not trying to flex here, but you could focus on karate‚ swimming‚ hockey‚ whatever - instead of being forced to be good at every single sport.
Mandatory English classes (not as a foreign language) are also just stupid after you learn basic grammar and the different media types. The ability to classify words and where they should go in a sentence, to know where to put a comma - that's useful. Classifying clauses is a waste of time.
Sure we should know about our countries' classic literature pieces. I can't find two kids who enjoy being forced to read those old books though. Recently, in the country I moved to, kids have been given 10 minutes out of English class to quietly read a book they brought to school themselves (and it can't be in a foreign language). They're encouraged to ask questions about unknown words and such. That's interesting. That's gotta be way better than reading and interpreting a news article the don't give a fudge about.
I'm sorry for the long text, but school system is so disgustingly flawed. I didn't even talk about speeches and presentations, that are the number one fear of many children regarding school.
#I always got straight As at maths and physics if you got the impression i only hate those because i sucked at 'em#nah I'm a natural genius. I do maths for fun. so trust me when i say kids will NOT need trigonometry#because I can't find a single fvcking excuse to do trigonometry in my day to day life#not a single reason to calculate when the orange's gonna hit the ground#TEACHERS NEED TO BE GOOD WITH CHILDREN BTW#teachers need to have a sense of sympathy at the very least#my autism hates the sound of balls being kicked or bouncing on the ground so PE was a nightmare#of course i didn't have a diagnosis so i just kept being punished for my meltdowns. it pulled my grades down obviously#it wasn't until eight grade that a teacher FINALLY pulled her head out of her ass and told me to get this checked out#she made me realize “holy shit. yeah maybe this isn't fvcking normal.”#up until then‚ teachers would just glare at me and move on#i never did any speeches at school up until tenth grade because‚ well‚ I couldn't freaking speak.#and I'm telling you - teachers *yelled* at me when i refused to do the presentations#had to endure six years of teachers scolding me over and over for not speaking about a topic they chose in front of another 20 children#and listen#I was lucky enough to end up with excellent‚ friendly classmates. Always got along well with everyone since 7th grade#but I can imagine what it'd be like to... *not* get along with all of your classmates. to have a bully spend 40 hours a week beside you.#this isn't okay#this is bad#this all sounds like hell and nobody does sheet about it#sorry that's a lot of tags#I just fvcking hate school#school life#interacting#text post
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i worry a lot about some transfems and its not me trying to be like "im better than you" or some shit its bc some of them remind me of me when i was a kid and new into being considered a girl/woman and being really naive thinking people would treat me better than they would- like i knew people were gonna be shitty but i wasnt prepared for the sheer amount of dehumanization and being reduced to just a sex object... idk... I just want some of you out there to be careful...
#ik its hard to convey tone and emotion through text but i do really worry.#im sure people have felt the same way about me being new into being considered a guy too. Ik i wasnt prepared for how emotionally distant#guys can be. and how like. atomized we all are and how a lot of guys only know how to interact with the world through violence and#being a dick and .-. basically how a lot of guys are just bullies. idk.#i think if we have experiences that we think we can help others by sharing them and maybe preventing them from making the same mistakes#as us then we should share them yknow. idk.#for me at least it does in some ways feel like im a little kid again learning what its like to navigate a new social setting.#like i didnt realize how much playing pvp games with cis guys suck and ppl who grew up with that are just like. 'yeah. thats just how it is#im literally playing wow rn and playing on a pvp server and i literally never attack anyone sdhjdshjvvfd and ppl are just like.#dicks for NO REASON. im LITERALLY RUNNING AWAY. ugh#i get it dude! this is the only way you can feel like you have a big dick but cmon. you gotta accept the truth some day#^and having to learn to talk like that has been something ive had to adopt from dealing with cis dudes. fun#some transfems i want to grab by the shoulders and shake and be like 'DO YOU KNOW YOU'RE BEING TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF'#with a desperate plea in my gaze#'I WANT TO PROTECT YOU BUT I ALSO KNOW PPL HAVE TO LEARN SOME SOCIAL SHIT ON THEIR OWN BUT BY GOD ARE THERE#SOME THINGS I REALLY DO NOT WANT YOU TO HAVE TO FUCKING LEARN ABOUT THAT I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER AND#IS UNFORTUNATELY LIKELY TO HAPPEN TO ANY WOMAN'#why am i becoming a parent. i need to stop. problem is i care too much about people in spite of what ppl might think .-.#i worry so much thats why i yell at ppl online bc i dont want them to get hurt or do something to fuck themselves over idk.#i just... dont express it the best way. like a gym coach or something 🤦#i really am Dad Vibes now huh. how do i stop myself from becoming a dad. i dont even have kids.#well. i have a cat. the eternal rebellious teen. but still#i need to stop expressing my care and fear through anger. its not great. ppl misinterpret me too much w it. but im not mommy enough to#sugarcoat things and coddle people if i feel like thats whats happening. so idk.#i realize this might sound patronizing and im not trying to be at all. to transfems with more experience this is like 'duh' to them probabl#but I'm more talking to the young transfems I see online who seem like they dont go out much and i dont blame them at all for it#its fucking scary out here. especially as a woman. esp as someone alt righters fetishize. and im sorry.
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