#they have similars ups and downs to this but the ACT still keeps trying to creep in to Kid Shows in my experience

[binmeister]

Can I request more hcs with the producer reader(KPDH) they are by far my favorite

(Preferably gn pronouns)

Producer AU Headcanons (contd.)

I CAN COME HOME! IM FINALLY BACK HOME IN PRODUCER AU YAYYY

in general i try to keep my stuff relatively gender neutral unless explicitly mentioned otherwise so ill keep at it in this blurb as well

Some rambling down below, not as much as last time but just a few off the top of my head - im so sorry its a lil nonsensical

CW: not proofread, headcanons and general blabbering - less formatted than the last batch of headcanons

Mentioned previously was that they’re wary of you when you’re in crunch mode, locked away in the studio at the office only to work overtime at home.

Ive got a scenario in my head of Jinu working with you in the studio, he’s quiet as he lets you do your work and then suddenly he hears sniffling and your shoulders are shaking and you’re breaking down in frustration because it just didnt sound right

He tries to talk to you, tries to tell you its okay to take a break but youre stressed that the deadline is approaching and the song still doesn’t sound right - the track didnt have enough harmonies, something went wrong with the tuning, the mix was off, just complaints as you beat yourself up over how done and burnt out over this track you were

Then he realises youre just tired and burnt out and lets you vent, lets you shrink in on yourself because you didnt want comfort you just wanted to let it out so he just shifts his chair nearby and lets you have your breakdown instead of trying to fix it

By the time youre done youre tired again, but honestly youve already forgotten what you were crying about as you play the track again after your emotional outburst and you hum the melody to yourself

He softly suggests maybe you can take a quick nap on the couch at the studio and he’ll try to record some harmonies on his phone for you to sample and you nod, too tired to fight back and let him guide you to lay down on the couch and you just knock out for a while - he’s laid his jacket over you to keep you warm and he listens to the song youre working on with your studio headphones on his head as he records voice memos for potential adlibs and harmonies you could add

I think generally speaking the relationship dynamics between you and the idols was actually more professional for a while

Like the guys are flirty because its part of their ‘boyfriend experience’ package and marketing, but theyre actually respectful of you when you mean business and clean up their acts when you ask them politely to focus up because you did not want to waste time sifting through unusable audio for no reason

The huntrix girls and you were actually pretty awkward and distant when you first worked together, up and coming in the industry meant you were competitors more than potential co workers and then eventual friends bc your company wanted you to top the charts for money and the girls were topping the charts to save the world technically

Overtime you progressively get on friendlier terms with them because as you collaborate more - you spend more time together creatively speaking and then youre not just doing scheduled meetings, starting to casually go grab a coffee or going to get lunch with them - slow burn but i like it cause i feel thats how it normally starts based off of artist interviews

When you’re giving critic or guidance theyre all glued to whatever you have to say to them, trying to be more analytical of their performance when they record and making sure they actually understand and take into account any feedback you give - which is the same for you when any of them mention that they can’t push that note youre after and you make adjustments so that they’re able to hit a different note in a similar key

I think at some point Abby starts asking if he can show you some rap that he’s written, you and Baby look over it and then you ask if you can talk to Zoey about it he has no issues at all so at some point theres a demo reel with all three rapping - though Zoey was never able to attend a group session you had sent her the demo and she was so happy she pinned it on her desktop (thinking smth like Young Posse doing a track with other rappers or even Giselle and NCTs Zoo)

In regards to work ethic or work in general

You’re a chronic over worker, creating was a passion turned career and you constantly needed to out do yourself (in your head) always being your biggest hater when a song doesnt sound right or when lyrics you write sound like trash - co producer Lance always telling you to go touch grass so you can get new inspo and you hiss at him like a deranged cat

You work based on deadlines and inspiration - if an idea or a tune sounds just right youre rushing off to go record something or mess with samples, your phone is full of random sounds and recordings you grab when you go somewhere and theres a melody that itches your ear just right

After working with both groups I hc that at one point you take a multi-month hiatus, not by choice on your end but everyone (the guys, girls, your manager, your co producers, even the higher ups in your company) agree that you need to take a proper break and not work on any commissioned projects for a while, aside from your personal ones

You come up with one of your personal favourite songs during that break and the fans are also appreciative of it because theres emotion and joy in each beat and melody, theres a lot of sillier audio samples thrown in there from your collection of voice memos but its the most “you” a song has been in a few years

I think you have a folder filled to the brim with audio samples from all of them, adlibs, highnotes, random one line raps, so many that its actually become part of your produce tag to randomly insert an audio snippet of someone from either group - when asked about it on a phone interview (live radio phone call) you’d admitted that its become a fun easter egg for you and you enjoyed when fans had tagged you on social media when they found it

Romantically speaking..

You dont canonically end up dating anyone, its just a lot of unofficial dates and soft moments - you dont really have time to date and you dont want to ruin anyone’s career because of a dating scandal

Producers can date and do whatever they want, especially ones that dont have a known face to the public, but idols? Its a tough world out there still even if its super in the future and people are supporting Boy x Girl groups which has never happened before - though there are some multi stans who would die on the hill that youre secretly dating someone from either group

That doesnt stop any of them from unofficially asking you out on dates, when you try and tell them that its not a good idea they switch up their wording so it sounds like a friendly outting or just some good friends getting a bite to eat and you cave - honestly think Jinu is actually the most guilty of doing this bc he always asks you take a late night walk with him. Bc youre friends. And he cared about your mental health, as a friend. (Loser biased)

[science-hoes]

It’s the Fourth of July. Everyone is at Jack’s house because he has a pool. In fact, Jack bought the house for the pool after his physical therapist told him that swimming was the easiest way to stay in shape after losing his foot. Now, it was a regular hangout spot for his friends and family.

Robby’s three oldest kids are swimming and jumping off the diving board with Jack’s twin boys. Their wives are dangling their feet in the water while Robby’s wife holds their newborn close to her chest, adjusting the floppy sunhat on the baby’s head.

Jack is manning the grill, carefully flipping hamburgers and hotdogs with one hand and holding a beer in the other. Robby stands next to him but keeps an anxious eye on the kids in the pool, sipping his own beer every now and then. That doesn’t stop him from backseat grilling though.

“Those burgers are done.”

“Are you trying to serve us charcoal?”

“We’re not dentists. We can’t fix our teeth if we break them on the food.”

Jack picks up a piece of burning charcoal with the tongs and chases Robby down until he’s far enough away from his grill. Their wives laugh and roll their eyes at their old men who still act like rowdy teenagers.

Robby holds his hands up in defense once he’s close to the edge of the pool with nowhere else to run. “I’m just trying to make sure we don’t end up in the Pitt.” He can’t help himself from joking.

Jack narrows his eyes, lip curling in disgust that his friend would be so condescending about his excelling grilling skills. “Hey, kids! Robby wants to play sharks and minnows with you.” He calls out to the children in the pool.

The air fills with cheerful shouts of “Dad’s coming to play!!” and “Come on, Uncle Robby!”

Robby shoots a glare at Jack, starting to pull off his t-shirt. “Fuck you.” He grumbles.

Jack raises a brow and points to the pool with the grilling tongs. “Stay the fuck away from my grill.” He retorts before taking a sip of his beer and returning to his post.

The afternoon passes with a pleasant slowness. Classic rock and respectable old country music blares from the speaker surrounding the pool. Robby plays pool games with the kids, making sure each one stays far enough away from the diving board when they jump.

Eventually, Jack joins them, slowly entering the poolside with the handicap railing. The water makes it easier for him to balance without his prosthetic, and he feels somewhat normal again. Standing without having to intentionally balance himself, without the squeeze of his prosthesis around his shin. He’s able to hold his boys in his arms without their added weight building pressure on his knee.

After everyone’s eyes are red from chlorine and fingers are pruned, Robby and Jack go to set up the haul of fireworks in the driveway while their wives dry off the kids.

“Are you sure about this?” Robby asks, a furrowed brow signaling his worry.

Jack smiles and nods. “Yep. Did just fine on New Year’s.” He assures his friend.

The two men call for their wives and children, opening the tailgates to their trucks in the driveway as seating. Robby places tiny noise cancelling headphones over his newborn’s head, pressing a kiss to her cheek and cradling her close to his chest. Jack takes a similar pair of headphones, the ones his wife bought him for Christmas, and pulls them over his ears.

The world becomes muffled, but he’s able to see everything. The way his twin boys laugh and sprint away from the fireworks after lighting them, red curls bouncing on their heads with each step. The way Robby’s daughters chase their brother and the twins with sparklers, their smiles so wide that their cheeks would ache later. The way everything around him glows in rainbows when the sparks fly, especially his wife’s pretty eyes when she looks up to him and gives him a sweet kiss.

No flashbacks. No phantom pain. No PTSD. No psychosis.

Just joyful memories with his friends and family that he doesn’t have to miss anymore.

[rrayaton]

Alidoro x reader headcanons

First time I've ever written for him so I hope I've done well and this is for the actual Alidoro, not that damn Parrot impersonating him

(I also couldn't find a decent photo for him)

He will protect you from ANYTHING. Anything he sees as a threat, he'll protect you from it

always makes sure you're well fed and hydrated. Even if there is only enough food for one of you, he makes sure that you are the one to eat it. Nope don't even try sharing with him. he can cope with no food.

Alidoro would introduce you to his colleagues and friends and makes sure they respect you

If he ever has to leave without you then he'll make sure you're in a safe place with people he trusts

I see him finding and picking any flower he can find for you. Not much grows around Krat anymore but he still believes you deserve to have a beautiful flower before it wilts

He is your knight in (not so shining) armour, but a knight nonetheless

He has a lot of stories to tell you, about his treasure hunting, his stalker stories, and he'll gladly tell you all of them. Now he doesn't want to come off as a bragger so he might downplay his stories just a little bit

He knows he has a lot of fans but also enemies. He wishes to keep you away from both, the eager and pushy fans asking for more tales about him and the enemies that want him dead. He would do anything to keep you away from both

Don't be surprised if he keeps you as a secret, he isn't embarrassed by you at all, in fact he'd love to show you off too as many people as he could, but he also knows it's dangerous and he doesn't want to make you a prime target

I don't see him as the biggest hugger, (probably because he is so touch starved) But he won't ever make you feel bad about hugging him. He might stiffen up at first but he will get used to it

You know that horn he gave to Pinocchio? He'll do something similar for you.

Alidoro: "Blow this horn in case of emergencies. Do not worry, I will hear it from anywhere, and will come to your aid. Please be careful out there my love."

He's such an angel

His love languages would be: acts of service, and words of affirmation

his nicknames for you would be, darling, love, sweetheart, and occasionally baby

He will take of his coat every time you're cold.

He watches over you while you sleep, and when he knows he can wind down and not worry about any dangers, then he is cuddling up beside you.

Holds you while you sleep, it's probably the only time where he initiates physical touch

You'll most definitely be the one falling asleep first, I can't see him resting until you rest.

You'll wake up with his coat on top of you and himself right next to you

Fights won't usually happen, I cannot see him raising his voice at you, no matter how angry he gets.

He is the first to apologise after every fight. He can't stand you being upset, especially at him.

Sometimes he inches his hand closer to yours, wanting to hold your hand in his, but his pride will get to him and he'll move it away. Just grab his hand and he'll be sweet

This is what I have so far for him. @idk101jo I hope you enjoy these as much as I did writing them. I'll write some more for him later :)

[batsandbirdbrains]

I need an au where Batman doesn’t reveal his identity to the Justice League until after Nightwing joins. But it’s just Bruce who takes off the cowl, maybe during a meeting where Nightwing was busy with Blüdhaven or Titans things and couldn’t attend.

It had been after a huge family meeting. A series of family meetings, really, held in the Batcave. Because the batkids want everyone to know (several select friends on their respective teams already knew but were sworn to secrecy), and they were tired of wearing masks all the time (both figuratively and literally, especially during downtime team bonding sort of situations).

So Bruce Wayne is revealed to the Justice League. And the whole Batfamily relaxes, because Bruce has insisted, always insisted, that if one of them revealed their identities, the rest would follow like dominoes. It was so obvious, Bruce insisted. They didn’t work with complete morons, he said.

Then one day an abrupt meeting is called, they received urgent intel on a case they’d been tracking for months now. But Bruce and Dick had been at a charity event, so they decided to just show up in civvies since most others would no doubt be arriving in a similar fashion. It was an abrupt meeting, yes, but as of now there was no plan to immediately head out and act on the intel. Besides, they can always use the spare suits the keep on the Watchtower.

But then when they arrive in the meeting room (last, unfortunately, because they’d been held up by reporters), the whole room goes stiff.

“I know you told us your identity,” Green Lantern huffs, muttering and it’s still really weird under his breath, “but you can’t just bring your kid up to our headquarters!”

There are many murmurs of agreement, and Bruce scoffs while Dick lets out a snort of a laugh.

Bruce is so offended that:

Hal Jordan thinks he has any right to try and scold him

Hal Jordan is trying to tell him where he can and cannot bring his kids when Bruce funds damn near the entire Justice League out of his own pocket

And that Dick is now looking at him with the smuggest smirk he’s had on his face in years.

“So you were wrong,” Dick says in a sing-song voice. “What have you been telling me for YEARS now? You can’t tell your friends, Dick, it’s not just your secret! You said. You can’t tell anyone or else the whole family will be found out, Dick! You said. We don’t work with a bunch of complete morons, Dick! You said. Puh-lease.”

Dick is smirking at him, and Bruce covers his eyes with a palm, resisting the urge to groan.

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m gonna say it!”

“Don’t say it, Dick.”

“I told you so!” Dick says in his snottiest voice. “I told you so, I told you so, I told you so! Jay and Timmy both owe me two-hundred bucks! I’ve been telling you so since I was eight years old!”

“The Justice League didn’t even form until you were ten.”

“That’s beside the point!” Dick says flippantly, then skips over to the pair of chairs Batman and Nightwing usually sit in. He plops down in Nightwing’s usual seat, still smirking, and throws his feet up on the table while the gaggle of superheroes watches him with their eyes bugging out of their heads. “Nice to formally meet’cha, without the mask of course. I’m Dick Grayson, but you all know me as Nightwing.”

Bruce lets out the most exhausted sigh they’ve ever heard, and he sits down heavily in his usual seat.

“Please tell me Damian was not included in your little betting ring.”

“Oh of course he was. Jason and Tim both owe him a hundred dollars. I get double since I’m the one who got to prove you wrong.” Dick is already texting Damian to get the security footage as proof. They have to keep it separate so Tim can’t delete it.

“Wait a minute,” Flash says, “are all the Waynes vigilantes?”

Dick snorts, then giggles, then looks at the constipated look on Bruce’s face and giggles some more.

“It’s a family tradition!” Dick says. “Gotta train your pre-pubescent kids to follow after the Bat, after all.”

“That’s enough,” Bruce grunts, and it’s so jarring for them all to see him use Batman’s tone with Brucie’s face. “Don’t we have intel to discuss?”

“Right, right,” someone says, then clears their throat. “So our inside source got us these documents…”

The meeting continues as normal, but Dick looks over at Bruce after a couple minutes and wiggles his eyebrows. Bruce slaps him upside the head and tells him in a hushed whisper to pay attention.

“How did we not know that was his dad?” Hal whispers to Barry.

Barry just shrugs. Bruce glares at both of them, and they shut up instantly and turn back to whoever’s presenting. Dick is practically giddy.

[dollivication]

ᥫ᭡. IF THEY GOT A HOLD OF YOUR PANTIES ᥫ᭡.

ᢉ𐭩 ft. hwang in-ho/player 001/the frontman, seong gi-hun/player 456, thanos/choi su-bong/player 230 , kang dae-ho/player 388, nam-gyu/player 124

ᢉ𐭩 cw: nsfw, perviness, panty-sniffing, masturbation, nam-gyu cussing you out/insulting you LOL??, fairly icky stuff, dirty fantasies, fem!reader. gooner activities. mdni

ᢉ𐭩 a/n: doesn’t take place in the games but… if you want to interpret this that way you can LOLS. sorry if it seems rushed i was very eager to take this out...

HWANG IN-HO/PLAYER 001/FRONTMAN

-honestly? he’d probably find it very endearing how you still maintain your style underneath all your clothes.

-he uses this as a better insight to your tastes. mentally noting down your preferences as he properly looks at the pair in his hands, turning the article of clothing around with a watchful gaze and rubbing it between his fingertips to feel the texture.

-lacy or simple? noted. silky or cotton? he’ll keep it in mind. dark or pastel? he’ll make sure to keep an eye out for something similar. he wants to know every aspect of your character, and this serves as the perfect chance. “How cute..” he’d muse.

-doesn’t judge whatsoever. after all, they belong to you, that by itself is a blessing. that being said, he doesn’t exactly have a need for them as he much prefers the thing that wears them. he prides himself on his self-control. you could not catch him acting like a hormonal teen.

-at the most, he’ll give them a tiny sniff, brushing his lips against them and flick the tip of his tongue out just to give himself the daily dose of your smell and taste, smiling to himself as he intakes the scent and flavor. but don’t worry, he puts them right back where he found them without ever telling a soul. <3

SEONG GI-HUN/PLAYER 456 (S1)

-his mind goes blank. does this make him a perv? well, probably. does he really care? somewhat. he wouldn’t have much of an explanation if someone walked in on him at that moment.

-just stares as he ponders what to do with them. he could put them down, pretend it never happened—it’s not like he had any bad intentions.. but an opportunity like this doesn’t come around often. and it’s been years since he had anything to properly give him a release.

-kind of has an inner battle over whether or not it’s worth actually being a dirty old man for relief or being a respectable one and giving up on this opening. yet of course.. he’s only human. and he just wants you so much :( !!

-pretty much uses your panties to muffle himself, sniffing at it like a dog whilst rutting slowly into a pillow. of course, the thin undergarments could only do so much in the face of his needy little sounds <3

-panting heavily, letting out grunts as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Please.. Please..” his face almost looks pained with a slack jaw and furrowed brow, hands grasping at the pillow beneath him to try and ground himself. (it doesn’t work, because he quickly begins to pick up the pace.)

-gasps when he finally climaxes, burying his face even deeper into your underwear to the point he might suffocate himself all while shooting out his seed over his pillow. feels pretty disgusted in himself and guilty after he comes down from his high, pouting a little at the mess he made. still, he can’t deny how blissful it felt. it was almost like you were right there with him…. </3

-keeps your panties. yeah, hopefully those weren’t your favorite pair—because they’re his now. he’ll return them at some point, but until then, if you ever exasperatedly tell him about the loss, gi-hun will keep his mouth shut and play the oblivious. >.<

THANOS/CHOI SU-BONG/PLAYER 230

-he looks like an immature highschool boy with the way he marvels at your panties, as if he hasn’t been in previous sexual flings and one-night stands where he has most likely witnessed all kinds of undergarments. and yanked them off…

-i guess the only reason why he’s so fascinated is because they’re yours. no way in hell you’d ever willingly give a pair to him—did you really think he wasn’t going to savor every moment of this? this is heaven served on a silver platter.

-it starts off as a joke for thanos, stretching the elastic waistband in various degrees and angles while giggling. maybe even uses them as a slingshot. he never imagined that he’d find himself in a position like this, you know? this is the type of shit you’d see in crappy rom-coms.

-all that runs through his head is something along the lines of “Hell yeah.. Nice.” UNTIL it finally occurs to him that, holy shit. he’s actually got your panties in his possession. the way he looks around to see if anyone’s by (despite obviously being alone) is damn well near cartoonish.

-wastes no time in lowering his pants to his knees, biting his bottom lip as he wraps a hand around his cock. he’s hard almost instantly, the thrill of doing something so filthy behind your back making his dick twitch and expel tiny drops of pre-cum.

-“Oh, fuuuck.. Mhm..” his words are shaky and border on a breathy chuckle, pumping his dick while raising his other hand to his face. takes sporadic sniffs of your panties, bunching them up in his palm whenever a particular stroke really made his hips buck.

-His head will roll back, his motions lazy and unhurried while he kicks and spreads his legs out. his voice is husky as he grunts out incoherent curses, gradually speeding his hand up before he eventually shoots out warm ropes of cum, letting the strands coat his fingers in short spurts.

-“Mannn...” he’d grumble, quite miffed by the fact that he was gonna have to clean up when the flow stopped. but he immediately cheers up, seeing that your panties were free from the spill. that meant he wasn’t gonna have to discard them just yet!!

-also keeps your panties and acts like he doesn’t know anything if they’re ever brought up in a conversation. he thinks of them as his personal lucky charm, which of course he won’t give up until he actually has to. but at that point, he’ll just try to get his hands on another pair and so on.. silly little addict :3c

KANG DAE-HO/PLAYER 388

-having been the youngest brother of 4 sisters, its safe to assume that he’s probably had similar occasions whilst doing laundry. bras, panties, he’s most likely handled them at least once throughout his life while being surrounded by women.

-thats not to say he doesn’t still get a little bit shy, even as an adult. its mostly out of respect more than it is embarrassment. he understands that underwear is meant to cover women’s privates, he’s been taught not to view them in a sexual light. but that’s because it came to family. there, underwear was just that—articles of clothing to literally wear under.

-this is a much different situation: being accidentally exposed to the type of undergarments his crush puts on. with the way he fumbles with your panties, you’d think they were sizzling hot and causing burns. poor dae-ho doesn’t know what to do !!

-especially not when his pants feel a little tighter than usual. his free hand will shoot down, try to adjust the tent forming with a tiny frown on his face. “Don’t be gross, Dae-ho. Cmon..” he’ll scold himself in a hushed whisper, but his body clearly having other plans.

-he’ll start to panic, desperately trying to make his boner die down. he swears he isn’t a perv, honest! he just can’t help but think about how good you’d look teasing him in them, rubbing your clothed pussy against his dick…!

-yeah, he’s got it bad. the imagery would make his dick stir that much more, practically throbbing as he hesitantly sneaks a hand beneath the waistband of his pants. “Shit, I’m so sorry—” he’d gasp out an apology followed by your name, his warm palm finally coming in contact with his aching cock, wrapping his fingers around the base.

-dae-ho’s eyes would flutter, his adam’s apple bobbing as he’d begin to jerk off at a moderate pace to the thought of you, wanton moans falling from his parted lips. he would swipe the pad of his thumb over his leaking tip, the motion causing a high pitched mixture of a whine and grunt. “Oh, god..”

-can’t help but to give your panties little licks, the taste of your cunt making his hips buck into his hand. the overwhelming feeling of his orgasm creeping up accompanied by a tugging guilt began to form tears in his eyes, nothing ever actually escaping yet threatening to.

-his back arches when he cums, thighs trembling as his digits tighten around your underwear, holding the pair close to his chest as he groans. “Yes! Oh, please, I love you—” his voice would tremble, practically breaking off into a small cry. his warm cum coats his hand, the latter continuing to give weak strokes until he’s unable to produce anymore.

-the moment he regains his composure and he realizes what he just did, he’ll be so disappointed in himself :( washes his hands with soap like 4 times, as if it’ll get rid of his dirty little misdeed. gosh he feels so pathetic…

-tells NO ONE about the endeavor, and leaves your panties where he found them. he’s going to have a lot to think about. (◞‸◟)

NAM-GYU/PLAYER 124

-one word: shameless.

-for some reason, nam-gyu just won’t fess up to the fact that he probably does genuinely have a crush on you. that’s absurd, he doesn’t do that kiddie shit! so, instead he’s making it his duty to find every possible way of throwing you off. because it’s funny. and what better chance does he have than right now?

-so what if this makes him a creep? hopefully you’ll take it as a sign to stay the hell away from him after this. (he says, anyway. a part of him actually hopes you’ll enjoy what he’s about to do and come back for more… he’s just,, strange like that.) he doesn’t think twice about taking his cock out from his boxers.

-the only one to actually USE your panties to jerk himself off. he tells himself he’s doing it out of spite, furiously pumping his veiny dick as he bites into the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach that jumped with the contrasting nip of the cool air on his warm skin.

-“Stupid bitch. See how you fucking like it,” he’d growl, pausing a few times to frustratedly tuck strands of hair behind his ear whenever they’d get in his face. has no problem being loud, letting out groan after groan with every intention of getting caught. walk in on him, why don’t you? see how pissed off you make him feel. how fucking pent up he is for you.

-“Gonna cum all over your face,” nam-gyu’s threats would flow with no particular party on the receiving end. only the thought of you on your knees tending to him. doesn’t care that he probably looks like a lunatic while guiltlessly talking dirty, his balls drawing up at his own filthy-natured words.

-saliva would begin to seep into his shirt’s hem, his pace unrelenting as he fists his cock into your underwear, his other hand curling and uncurling whenever his pleasure spiked. he’ll swallow thickly as the knot in his lower stomach begins to form, squirming slightly in his spot in a visible attempt to chase his climax.

-he’ll align the inner crotch area perfectly along his length, his head tossing back as he finally lets go, your panties easily catching the globs of semen that shot out. “Fuck yeah.. Take it, take my cum.” he’d grunt, eyebrows furrowing while sinking his teeth deeper into his top.

-breathes heavily upon seeing the stick and foggy white liquid cause an evident dark patch on your panties. with a self-accomplished smirk, he’ll tuck himself back into his pants, releasing his shirt from his mouth as he pinches the waistband of your cum-soaked panties with the tip of his index and thumb, keeping it a distance away from him. he has just the thing for you.

-nam-gyu will actively seek you out, bringing along the end result of his.. work. once he finds you, he’ll toss it right at you, not caring if you were in catching-range or not.

-“Just a little something from me to you. Enjoy the gift, yeah?” he’d give you one of his sly smiles, eyes twinkling with the typical hint of mischief before walking off without even waiting for a reply or reaction.

-well, at least you got your panties back, right? <3

[snowballseal]

Pretty Bird

Sylus X Reader

Summary: Sylus is jealous of you giving Mephisto attention. That's it. You tease him when you find out.

Word Count: 2123

Note: Nothing really, hope I did him justice! His dialogue is a little harder for me to nail down.

---

The first time it happens is when you cross to the N109 Zone to accompany Sylus on an “errand”.

The first thing you do when you reach the ornate, empty house - of course - is say hello to your favorite bird.

“Hey there pretty bird.”

Mephisto squawks, bobbing excitedly on his perch as you bound up to him. You grin and give the crow a gentle scratch on his head. He preens under your touch, mechanical feathers fluffing with another quiet, scruffy caw. Adorable.

Despite his unnerving gaze, which you find to be eerily similar to a certain Onychinus leader, you can’t help but love the little bird. For some reason, it always comforts you a little bit to see him perched outside your apartment, or following you around Linkon. He always tries to act like he’s not spying on you, but you know he is, and you know he’s going to report right back to Sylus. Maybe that’s why it’s comforting.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to sway his loyalties.”

Speak of the devil.

“As if,” you snicker, giving the bird one final scratch before spinning on your heels to face Sylus. He sits across the room in one of his big armchairs, eyes glued to the gun he’s loading, face carefully blank. As always. You saunter over and pop yourself onto the arm of the chair, bumping his shoulder. “You know Mephisto doesn’t listen to anyone but you. I’m just like the fun mom who gives him things.”

His lips twitch ever so slightly, “Mmm, does that make me your husband in this situation?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks.

You are no stranger to Sylus’ flirty nature. That’s how things have always been between you, though it only really gets to you now. Before, when you kind of hated his guts, it was just annoying. Well, maybe even then-

“You wish,” you retort, but there’s no hiding the blush painting your cheeks.

“Hm, I thought you knew me better than that, sweetie.” In an instant, his hand curls around your wrist, giving it a sharp tug that knocks you off balance. You let out an undignified squeak, tumbling right into his lap. And before you can squirm away, Sylus locks an arm over your legs, keeping you trapped against him. Those red eyes freeze you in place, dark and warm with mischief. “Why would I wish for something I could so easily take?”

You stare at him, eyes blown wide, face completely red now. You can’t even form any words in response, which seems to amuse him even more. A smirk curls his lips, and he gives your hip a playful pinch.

“What? Crow got your tongue, sweetie?”

You sputter, finally finding your voice, “Sylus!”

“Good. Now that you’re focused, we can go handle business.” Sylus sets you on the ground, making sure you’re steady before he stands nonchalantly and tucks his gun in its holster. Like nothing just happened! “We don’t want to be late now, do we?”

Before you can even say anything more, he’s heading for the door. It takes a few seconds to shake yourself from your  state of shock, and then you’re quickly following after him.

“Sylus-!”

He cuts you off, that stupid, attractive smirk still on his lips, “And by the way, try not to spoil Mephisto too much, sweetie. He’s grown rather petulant when you’re not around.”

You’re pretty sure your blush sticks around for the entire car ride after.

---

The second time is when you visit on one of your off days. 

When you get there, Sylus is still asleep. You take a moment to crouch by his bed, a fond smile adorning your lips as you take in his peaceful face. You remember when he used to sleep sitting up, so he was ready for anything, but now he looks relaxed. Though you still spot the gun tucked under his bed.

Deciding not to bother him, you quietly make your way back out to the living room and grab a book. It’s about the only way to pass time in the N109 Zone, at least, without getting yourself into anything dangerous. As soon as you sit down, Mephisto flaps across the room and lands on your arm, plopping himself down into your lap like a cat.

A giggle escapes you when the crow throws his head back, looking up at the most awkward angle you can imagine. You give his beak a little rub, and he makes a soft clicking sound, beady red eyes falling shut.

“I swear, it’s almost like you’re a crow with cat programming,” you hum, mostly to yourself. Mephisto ruffles his feathers, though, at the word ‘cat’, eyes flashing back open. You snort, easing a hand over his wings, “No worries, pretty bird, no cats. I’m just kidding.”

He settles back down, seemingly embarrassed by his reaction, which only makes you want to coddle him more. So cute. If only Sylus would be this cute with you. Heat tinges your cheeks at the thought of the tall man resting against your lap, looking up at you with softly narrowed eyes, humming in content as you pet his ha-

Snapping your book open, you throw yourself into the story in hopes of banishing such rogue thoughts. If Sylus knew what you were imagining, he would tease you for years. You really don’t want to feed his ego even more. Mephisto wedges himself between your arm and your side, happy to just fall asleep as you read, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

It doesn’t take you long to actually get immersed in the storyline, though. So much so that you don’t hear the steps coming up behind you.

“It seems you come here more often to spend time with Mephisto than with me.”

You practically jump out of your skin when a strong arm circles your shoulders. Sylus’ voice is a low rumble in your ear, thick with sleep. He leans over the back of your chair, and you narrowly miss the way he eyes the bird in your lap with distaste. He looks far too content curled up on your lap.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were sleeping,” you hum, closing the book.

He grumbles, sleepy eyes shifting to bore into you. The smallest pout pulls at his lips, and you have to stifle a giggle as you reach up to smooth down his messy hair. Sylus leans into your touch, much like Mephisto did, his eyes flickering shut. Okay, maybe he is just as cute.

“Are you mad I didn’t come cuddle with you?” You tease. Sleepy Sylus is definitely your favorite Sylus. “I didn’t know the big, bad Onychinus leader likes to snuggle.”

“It’s simply to ensure you don’t cause trouble in the N109 Zone,” he murmurs, still just as quick-witted though he’s half-asleep, “I can’t have my kitten wandering around all by herself, now can I?”

“I was just reading, Sylus. No trouble here.”

“Hmm, then you might as well come read in bed.”

You hesitate, fingers tracing along his jaw lightly, “You sure I won’t disturb your sleep?”

Those dark eyes blink back open lazily, a rare, genuine smile dancing in their depths, “Trust me, kitten, my sleep will be much better with you at my side.”

God, you’re weak for this man. Mephisto squawks his complaints as you lift him from your lap, but takes off to his perch without much fight. Sylus feels a flash of victory as you intertwine your fingers. The sensation of your small hand in his eases the strange tightness in his chest whenever you’re apart. He curls his other arm around you possessively, sending the bird a smug smirk.

You catch it this time, lifting a brow as you glance between him and Mephisto. Your brain stalls. Was he…jealous? No way. There’s no way Sylus would be jealous of you spending time with his bird. He’s more mature than that…or maybe not, you realize as he drags you back to his bed, only to lay himself over you like a large cat, using your lap as his pillow. Exactly as you imagined.

Your heart flutters a little, which you’re sure he hears somehow, because he squeezes your waist teasingly. You pinch his cheek lightly before running your fingers through his snowy hair. It’s always softer than you expect.

“Go to sleep, Sylus,” you murmur, voice far too fond, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums, and you can feel the sound vibrate through his body. Almost like a purr.

God, you don’t even have a chance, do you?

---

The final time is when you visit the N109 Zone to attend another auction with Sylus. And this time, you catch him in it.

“Where’s Mephisto?”

Sylus’ face sours at your question. You bite back a smile.

Ever since the day you spent napping in his room, you haven’t been able to escape that thought swirling in the back of your mind. So you decided to test your theory. Sylus is always messing with you, afterall. It’s only fair you get a bit of revenge.

“I sent him out to gather intel,” Sylus huffs eventually. Why do you always look for that d***  bird first? “That is his purpose, afterall.”

“Oh.” You feign sadness, letting out a long sigh. “That’s too bad! I brought him some treats.”

“Well, you can leave them here. I’m sure he’ll eat them later,” he says, voice dismissive as he fixes the cuffs of his coat.

“Hmm-” You slowly make your way over to him. Those perceptive eyes narrow on you, watching you carefully while you straighten his collar. “Will he be here later? Maybe I can give them to him after the auction. I miss my pretty bird.” 

Amusement curls in your chest when you see the man’s brows twitch ever so slightly. He’s really annoyed. Now you understand why he loves pushing your buttons so much.

“No, I’m afraid he’ll be busy all night.” You can practically hear him gritting his teeth. Almost there. You keep your eyes focused on his coat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. He’s trying to figure you out and you’re scared that if you look up, the laughter you're holding back will break loose. Instead, you put on an exaggerated pout.

“That’s unfortunate. I was really hoping to see him tonight.”

Sylus growls. Actually growls in annoyance.

“Would you prefer to have Mephisto on your arm tonight instead of me?” His words come out biting and harsh, tinged with unmistakable jealousy.

The air goes silent.

Before you burst into a fit of giggles. Sylus’ eyes widen when you collapse against his chest, your entire body shaking with laughter. He freezes, though his confusion quickly gives way to realization. 

You were playing with him.

“I suppose this is some form of revenge,” he hums, shaking his head. It’s surprising it took him so long to catch on. With anyone else, he’d be beyond angry, but your laughter is so bright, so infectious, that he can’t stop the small smile that pulls at his lips. When you finally look up at him, tears glint in the corners of your eyes. Who thought this would amuse you so much?

“You’re jealous! The Sylus is jealous of a little bird. His bird.” You bite down on your lip in an attempt to muffle the giggles that keep coming, but it doesn’t do much to help. It’s just too much for you. You never ever thought you’d see Sylus actually jealous of someone, let alone an animal.

Sylus narrows his eyes, though they glow with a certain fondness. “Such a sadist, sweetie, messing with a man’s heart so lightly.”

“Oh, but your reaction was so adorable,” you sing, reaching up to poke his cheek. He playfully bites at your finger, making you draw it back quickly with another laugh. “Just the fact that you could even think I like Mephisto more than you is so silly. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to prove my silly conclusion wrong, won’t you?” His hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to the warmth of his body. You oblige him, stretching your arms up and around his neck to draw him down.

“Of course. I can’t have my pretty bird walking around thinking he’s second best,” you tease, fingers curling through his hair. “Even if he has a jealousy prob-”

“Quiet.”

Anything else you say is muffled as Sylus finally kisses you.

Safe to say, after that, you make sure to give Sylus extra attention, especially when Mephisto is around. (Though you do still sneak him treats when Sylus isn’t looking.)

[i-love-ptv]

Playing Dangerous ཐི♡̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ཋྀ

Pairing: Police Officer!Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Girlfriend!Reader

You get pulled over by the police, but the officer just so happens to be your boyfriend. Will he let you off with just a warning? Part.2!

Wc: 1,822

SMUT (nothing crazy, just a steaming hot blowjob ;)) + winks of fluff

Hi guys!!! Uhm sorry I didn’t get a whole bunch out during October, I had lots of shit going on I fear…So take this as an apology lol. Also I have a (late) halloween fic coming out soon so stay tuned ;)

Feedback is always appreciated! xx

You hear the sirens chirp, and you take a glance at the rear view mirror, that’s when you see the police car riding your tail. You sigh due to the fact that you’re the only car on this road, and begin to pull over.

Were you going over the speed limit? No, you couldn’t possibly be doing so, you always remained cautious on the road.

Your hands rest idly on the steering wheel as you listen to the sound of boots getting closer. Your window is down, making the chilled night air kiss your skin.

The air is filled with cologne that rings familiar; you see his arms resting inside your car window first, the tattoo of your name staring right back at you.

You’re met with none other than your boyfriend, Rafe. He ducks down so his bright crystal-colored eyes are leveled with yours.

“Awfully late to be driving around here, huh Peach?” Rafe teases you with a smirk.

“I was just finishing my errands, Ray. And you scared me! I thought I was actually in trouble!” You try to keep the scowl on your face, but the more you stare at him, the more your face cracks into a smile.

Rafe quirks a brow at you after he takes a few seconds to assess you. “Who said you’re not in trouble? You’re driving without your glasses on, baby.”

You roll your eyes, “You couldn’t have possibly known I wasn’t wearing my glasses when you were behind me,” you replied.

“And besides, you act like I can’t see without them at all.”

Rafe tuts at your comment, “Thought it's already been established that you gotta wear ‘em when you drive, you not following orders now?” His smirk grows all the wider as he takes in your smaller frame.

You bite your lip and gaze at him, “Oh, well everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I don’t think a good girl would break the rules, hm?” Rafe’s face is inching towards yours, slowly leaning more and more into your car.

You pout, feigning innocence, “I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure.” Your lips part, going to leave a steamy kiss to the officer’s rosy, yet somewhat chapped lips, but he pulls away slightly, leaving you gaping with glossy eyes.

“I dunno…Think you should step out for a second, sweetheart. Y’know, just to follow protocol.” He whispers hotly against your ear, making your panties dampen.

You quickly exit your car, and as soon as you close the door, Rafe’s pressing you into it.

“I think you deserve a ticket, Peaches, d’ya think so?” His expression darkens whilst he fondles your love-handles, your floral sundress from earlier being bunched up around your hips. You shake your head ‘no’, letting out a soft “uh-uh”.

Rafe’s eyes soften, similar to how you look; he mocks you, exaggerating his pout. “Well, what’re we gonna do with you then, huh precious?”

Your tongue darts out for his lips, your mouth encloses his, and there’s nothing sweet about this kiss. Your tongues battle heatedly, Rafe allows you to think that you’ve won, until he presses his prominent bulge against your stomach, making you gasp in surprise and delight.

Spit dribbles down your chin, his hand cradles your head, leaving no room for you to pull away. You moan and whimper against him, your nimble fingers glide down his chiseled body, and rest against his belt buckle.

Then, Rafe remembers that the two of you are still in fact, on the side of the road. He breaks the kiss, making you chase after him; the string of saliva breaking whilst you whimper for more.

“Mmm, I know baby. Tell you what, how about I have you atone in a different way, would you like that pretty?” His veiny hands raise, resting lightly against your shoulders as his thumbs rub against your throat.

You eagerly nod your head up and down, wanting nothing more than to get your hands on your man wearing his delicious uniform.

Rafe drags you to the passenger seat then dashes to the driver's seat, and he mentally, he thanks every god out there that he forgot to turn both his body-cam, and his dash-cam back on.

He leans the seat back and beckons you over with his index and middle finger. “C’mon Peaches, y’know what to do.” You reach over and begin to unbuckle his pants.

Your body digs somewhat uncomfortably into the center console, but you can’t seem to care— not when Rafe’s cock twitches in his boxers. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight.

You take him out, making him hiss and screw his eyes shut for a moment.

Your manicured finger brushes against his pink tip, rubbing circles as you leave soft, feathery kisses to the base of his dick.

Rafe grunts in frustration, growing impatient with your constant teasing. He grabs your hair roughly, angling your face just above his dick.

“Make sure you breathe through your nose f’me, Peach.”

Your head is pushed down; your lips wrap perfectly around his shaft as it goes deeper into your mouth. Your nose is pressed against Rafe’s hairy thigh, his cock kissing the back of your throat beautifully. You gag slightly at his length, making your boyfriend chuckle.

He pulls you off, then sends you right back down just as quick. You hollow your cheeks as your head continues to bob. Spit gathers around your mouth due to Rafe’s force. He uses his left hand to hold your hair, while his right rubs the back of your neck.

It’s something so soft, so sweet, while in such a dirty, sinful situation.

The wet sounds of your gagging and slurping is all Rafe can focus on. —That and how sexy you look with the blue and red lights reflecting off of your face. It’s a sight he wishes to preserve in his mind for the rest of eternity.

He fully removes you from his dick, allowing you to catch your breath. “Mhm, you got it baby,” he says through his panting.

He guides your head back down; you don’t even get a chance to wrap your hand around what doesn’t fit because he’s thrusting up into your mouth.

Tears pool into your eyes, but Rafe can hardly tell due to them nearly rolling to the back of your head.

You whimper around him, your angelic sounds and the squelching which permeated the car only encourage him.

“You’re my good girl though, right Peaches? You’re gonna take it real good f’me?” Rafe moans at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his cock.

You squeal around him, trying to shake your head ‘yes’ at him but Rafe continues to roll his hips up.

The car shifts when another comes speeding down the road, but he can’t seem to give a shit when the woman of his dreams is nearly sucking him off the bone.

Rafe’s head is tilted towards the roof, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his spit. His chest heaves, his grip on the back of your neck tightening as he moans hopelessly.

“H-hah, that mouth was made f’me precious,” he grunts through his gritted teeth.

“You. Were. Made. For. Me.” His words are emphasized by his thrusts.

He switches hands, allowing his left to snatch up your hand, so his right can hold onto the open window.

His bucking grows erratic, his rhythm being lost, alongside his mind as he grows closer and closer to his climax. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, another sign of him almost finishing.

Rafe can no longer contain his moans, he’s borderline wailing at this point, his body is lifting off the seat, but you maintain your pace.

“Y-yes baby! That’s it! Make me cum, honey. Make me fucking cum.” He sounds almost pained, which fuels your burning desire.

Rafe’s been reduced to a whimpering mess now, despite his acts of dominance earlier, but neither of you mind. His moans go higher in pitch, then suddenly, you feel his warm load flood your mouth.

The salty taste makes you moan, making Rafe shiver, and his thighs twitch.

You release him with a ‘pop’, and you leave a sweet, yet seductive kiss to the head of his flushed cock.

His load mixed with your hot saliva drips down your chin, you take your index finger and scoop it into your mouth while holding Rafe’s deepend gaze.

You lock your lips with his, and he gasps at your attempt to literally, take his breath away.

He breaks away with a low grumble, and you giggle. You pull down the driver side’s visor and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is sticking up every which way, your mascara from earlier in the day now dries against your tear stained cheeks, and your lips are kiss bitten and puckered.

Rafe tucks himself away before you climb into his lap, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“I think I atoned for my rule breaking quite well, don’t you, Officer Cameron?” You grin mischievously, pressing your nose against his.

Rafe only hums in response, he smiles at your antics and kisses you softly.

“I uh..I got a few things to take care of back at the station,” he mumbled.

“How about you go home and wait for me there, baby.”

You pout at this, while he exits the car with you still wrapped around him.

He sets you down once you reply, “Will you come home to me?” His expression softens.

He pecks all around your face, making it harder for you to keep up your sullen act.

“Of course, pretty girl,” Rafe whispers.

You cross your arms as he continues, “I’ll wrap up so quickly, babe. Then I can…” He trails off, before ducking down to your ear.

“Return the favor.” He nibbles at your ear, and you press your legs together.

“Mmm, okay. But hurry back..” You peer at him, fixing his wild hair strands. He kisses your wrist.

“Of course,” and with that, he firmly kisses your cheek before allowing you to step back into your car.

After you settle in—after he finished adjusting your seat back, you place your hands on the wheel and spare him a last glance.

“Can you do me a favor, baby?” He asks with a grin, but you can tell it’s far from sweet.

You hum, both in curiosity and excitement.

“Think you can hold onto these for me?” He places the item into your hand, and leans back to head to his car, but not without yet another kiss to your lips.

You lick your lips as you watch him walk back to his police cruiser.

You know he won’t leave until you do, so you eventually pull off.

The set of shining, silver handcuffs resting next to you, and an ever growing heat between your legs.

[zarla-s]

[DELTARUNE CHAPTER 3+4 SPOILERS]

Thinking about why I like Tenna, he's fun, but he doesn't grab me like Spamton does, in spite of them both being OTT flashy weirdos who are sad and attention-starved. On the surface they act pretty similar, to the point where I thought of Tenna as Diet Spamton, but the more I think about it they actually have a lot of really big differences between them. They're almost opposites, actually. What I think it comes down to is their greater themes. Tenna, King, and Queen are all about abandonment/neglect. Spamton, in comparison, is all about failure.

Spamton is a persona non grata in Cyber City, no one ever talks about him and the Addisons refuse to if you try and confront them about it. He has a strange and quirky battle, but if you forget to follow up on him later, he's a footnote in the whole chapter. He's a tiny guy in a big world.

Tenna is the absolute ruler of TV Land and the entire reality of it bends to his whims. He's huge, bigger than life, everything revolves around him at all times. Everything has his face, everyone does what he wants under restrictive contracts even if they don't want to. Tenna IS TV World.

You meet Spamton at his lowest point. He's living in the garbage, no one will talk to him, he has no control or power over anything without manipulating them into giving it to him (usually unsuccessfully). A lot of his dialogue implies he's beaten by other people regularly. He's angry and frustrated and desperate, and he knows he needs a patsy to get out because he can't get out himself.

Tenna in comparison is living the high life. Almost everything is showy and glamorous (except the Z room, which is associated with Spamton). He IS the Big Shot Spamton used to be and wants to be again. He can, like Jevil, do anything.

Spamton wants to be BIG, partly for the attention and power but mostly because he wants to get OUT. He wants to LEAVE the Dark World and become real, not just an object in the shadows trapped by how Lightners perceive him. He wants to escape the fantasy world into reality, ascending into what he thinks is Heaven. He's the only boss that seems to want this, rather than validation from Lightners.

Tenna wants a past that's gone, where he felt like he glued a family together and everyone was happy watching him and being with him. He wants attention and validation and love from Lightners again, promises that he's still relevant and useful as an escape from reality. Tenna wants to stay in an eternal fantasy world and expand and enable it.

Spamton feels trapped by the voice on the phone and reaches out to Kris by saying he can't force them to do anything, that he can tell Kris is desperate for freedom just like he is. He asks Kris to do him favors to get him the body that he thinks will let him become real. He gives himself into their hands as the LoadedDisk because he can't do it himself (normally). Spamton treats and talks to Kris like a potential partner/customer to scam.

Tenna actually seems scared of Kris, saying that he did everything that they told him to. Kris was the one giving the orders, not Tenna. Tenna's desperate to bring Kris back to a time when their family was intact and they were happy and he was valuable and needed, and he tries to force Kris into more games to try and keep them there. Tenna treats Kris fearfully, like his boss or a sponsor he needs to please or he'll suffer the consequences.

Spamton started as a failure and needed outside support from the voice to become a success, which eventually exerted total control over his life, driving him right back into the dumpster. When he was about to share the secret of that "success" with Tenna, the voice scared him into running away, abandoning him.

Tenna was always successful. It seems like rather than a parabola of failure-success-failure, he's just in a steady decline. Tenna has complete control over his Dark World but it doesn't matter, he can't actually change reality in the Light World. Tenna is in the process of failing when we meet him - Spamton has already failed.

Spamton is obsessed with money. The absolute core of his being is scamming people and making money, it defines his existence. He will do literally anything for it.

Money doesn't even work in TV Land. Instead you get points that Tenna doles out (completely at his discretion) that are worthless outside of TV Land. Tenna gives away prizes and points as incentives to stay and pay attention to him. He wants attention more than anything else.

Spamton is a member of a group of Darkners, the Addisons, who all look very similar to each other with some small variations. He spent a lot of time with them as loverscoworkers. Another instance of being a little guy in a big group.

Tenna is one of a kind. There's no other being in TV Land anything like him. Nothing even comes close. He's completely unique.

Spamton doesn't want validation from Lightners. What he wants is the power to get out of the Dark World and become real. He has his own entirely self-focused goals that don't involve Lightners or the Dark World at all.

Tenna will do anything for validation from Lightners, they define his entire existence. Without them he feels purposeless. He's desperate to give Kris the world they want and for Kris to tell him he's doing a good job, essentially. In this, Tenna is very much like Queen and King. He begs you repeatedly to say you love him and to never leave him.

This is just funny to me but Spamton mentions Tenna rarely but Tenna talks about Spamton constantly lol. Spamton just lives rent-free in Tenna's head.

When you beat Spamton, Kris has a breakdown about it, presumably because they see a lot of similarities between their situations (unwilling puppets trapped by forces controlling them, usually coming from a phone) and how Spamton in the end couldn't escape his strings.

Kris on the other hand doesn't seem that upset about what happens to Tenna, even if he dies. Maybe Kris just didn't have a chance to, given the Knight jumps you almost immediately, but that kind of connection that Spamton and Kris have just isn't there with Kris and Tenna.

Spamton can understand the voice on the phone. Tenna, Blue Addison, and the Player cannot.

Tenna (and his death) are foretold in the prophecy. Spamton, so far, is not.

Television was a massive success and defined multiple generations, and, while diminished, still plays a massive part of the media landscape. Spam email has always been a nuisance no one likes and has a very low, if any, success rate, even though it's inescapable. Television platforms ads, Spamton IS an ad.

Spamton has connections to a variety of other Darkners, like Queen, Swatch, Jevil, and the Addisons. Tenna, being the complete center of his Dark World, really only has a connection to Spamton. (They do share a connection with Mike but that's a weird case.)

Tenna is very isolated in his world, with only his lackeys around him that he treats rather badly. Spamton in comparison is surrounded by other people constantly but all of them deliberately ignore him, isolating him in a different way.

Thematically, this matches their respective mediums. TV is a self-contained passive entertainment source that's primarily solitary, although it can be shared if others are nearby. The things you see on TV are tightly controlled and structured. The internet in comparison is a massive eternally expanding collaboration of people constantly interacting with each other - by its nature it's inescapably social and uncontrollable.

Spamton was always doomed to fail. In the end all his dreams are shattered and all he can do is give himself to you as an item to try and help you achieve yours. He can come out of the glasses on occasion but his life on his own as far as we know it is over. This tragedy (and presumably the sick irony of gaining control over Spamton as an item when all he wanted was freedom) is what leads to Kris's breakdown.

Tenna nearly dies but recovers (usually) and starts a new life with Mettaton, who appreciates and promises to care for him. When we leave him, Tenna is off to a brand new fresh start to a happier life. It's a hopeful and heartwarming conclusion to his arc.

Tenna is intact. He's lucid and coherent, he speaks clearly, he adds graphical and audio flourishes to his text with no issue. He worries about burn-in and being old, but none of that is present in his Dark World form. He's fine.

Spamton is broken. He glitches and falls apart, he can't speak clearly at all. His bracket words are like uncontrollable tics that obscure things against his will. At times it seems like he's being entirely taken over by other forces that speak through him.

There are a lot of things they have in common too of course. They both do like slapping their faces on everything, including their own branded products, haha. They also both want to be successful, in their own ways. They seemed to really like each other at one point and had a good time together! And despite the vast discrepancy in power between them, they're both very alone in their worlds. They both have abandonment issues, although Tenna's manifests as desperation and clinginess while Spamton's manifests as anger and bitterness. They are both in denial about it though lol.

The key thing that broke them up was the person on the phone scaring Spamton into abandoning Tenna right before he was going to tell him the secret of his "success". It seems rather deliberate on the voice's part... I wonder why they did that? I wonder if Tenna knowing the "secret" would have changed the prophecy...

[moonstruckme]

hiii bb

first off all GURL YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY TOP TIER I CANNOT WITH IT—

and second, i saw you had your requests open and while i’ve never done this before i really, really would love it if you could write a poly!wolfstar with reader coming from a pretty similar family background as sirius and gets triggered by loud noises and remus is in a bad headspace because it’s just a few days before full moon and he accidently yells at her and reader just shuts down and tries to brush it off because she thinks she’s being dramatic and tries to act unruffled but sirius sees through it and overall just hurt/comfort, pretty please? ILY

Awe thank you lovely! For both the sweetness and the request <3

cw: migraine, reader panics because of shouting/aggression

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Remus has told you to leave him alone more than once. You know that you should, that you really ought to make yourself scarce because these moods before the full moon almost never yield good things. The issue is that you care about Remus more than consequences, and as a result you’re not very good at doing what you should. 

“Hey,” you say gently, when he passes you by on his way back to his desk with another cup of tea. “That’s too much caffeine, lovely. You’ll make your headache worse.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Remus grunts. He continues on his way, and, despite Sirius�� look, despite knowing better yourself, you give chase. 

“You’ll regret it if you have another,” you reason, following him to his work-cluttered desk, which has been shoved temporarily into the darkest corner of your bedroom. “I know some caffeine helps, but too much—”

“I know how it works.” Remus’ voice is low. Low, but not thin. He doesn’t look at you as he sits down. “I need it, alright?” 

You take a breath. Yes, you can see how you explaining Remus’ own migraines to him might not be well received. But it’s not easy to watch your boyfriend act against his own self-interest. 

Remus has described the feelings leading up to a full moon to you before. He said it feels like something sizzling under his skin, or crackling. It’s not entirely pleasant, but it gives him more energy than he ever has otherwise. Makes him restless, productive, lively. Eventually, though, that energy builds into something he can barely tolerate—that’s when the migraines usually start. Remus gets irritable, his joints ache, it’s like his body is trying to hold something no human can, waiting for the full moon and the chance for Remus’ not-human body to expel it all. 

When you think about how much energy he’s storing, that electric sizzle under his skin, caffeine hardly seems necessary. Until you take into account that Remus has hardly slept for the past three nights. Then you wonder if perhaps his brain can no longer keep up with the tireless dynamism of the rest of him. 

“Maybe you should rest for a while instead,” you try. 

“I have work to do.” 

“It’ll still be there after a nap.”

“And I suppose I may as well just wait until after the full, then, yeah?” 

“I mean, maybe.” You pick up on Remus’ sarcasm, but you don’t disagree. “You can’t be expected to just power through when you’re having such a hard time.” 

“Really?” There’s bite in your boyfriend’s voice now. Enough that you retract the hand you were about to set on his shoulder. “I can’t be expected to? That’s exactly what’s expected of me. I don’t just get a week off every month.” 

You push out a frustrated breath. “I know, and that’s not fair—” 

“None of this is fair.” Remus turns in his seat, glowering with such virulence it shocks you despite the argument you’d thought you were prepared for. “There aren’t allowances made for lycanthropy. If I told my boss that I need a lighter workload and he made the connection, he could report me to the ministry. I can’t afford to complain about how my head hurts or indulge in naps and breaks when everyone else keeps working.” 

His voice rises, and he’s suddenly taller than you, looking down on you. He stood up. Your ears are ringing. 

“If everyone else is able to handle their workload during the full, I have to, too. Do you understand that?” 

You find you can’t speak. There’s a horrible ache sitting in the base of your throat which won’t let anything out. You nod. 

“Do you?” Remus seems exasperated. Baffled by your naïveté. “I don’t want to be told that I shouldn’t be working. I don’t want to be told that I can’t have caffeine to get through it, because I know what I have to do, and that’s not something you can understand. Alright?”

“Alright,” you choke out. 

“Do you get that?” 

“Yes.” 

“Remus,” says another voice. You don’t turn, but you don’t need to; Sirius always follows the sound of shouting. It’s habit for him. “That’s enough, love.” 

“I was done,” Remus snaps. 

Sirius’ hand wraps around your elbow. His fingers feel cool, or maybe you’re only hot. You feel very, very hot. 

“Hey,” he prompts softly. Now you look at him. Sirius’ expression is all tenderness, and it feels like whiplash. “You okay?” 

You dismiss the question with a shake of your head. Your ears are still ringing. “Yeah.” 

You look back to Remus. You can’t help it. You want to fix, and to leave, and to dissolve. But Remus is the epicenter of everything, and you feel as though taking your eyes off him even temporarily is a danger. 

“Let’s be done squabbling for now,” Sirius says, his voice unnaturally light. “We’ve all said our piece, yeah?” He gives your arm a gentle tug, and you take a step back. You’d been nearly right up against Remus, you realize. Frozen to the spot where you’d gone to rest your hand on his shoulder. Sirius runs his thumb over your skin before asking again, “Are you okay?” 

Tears invade your eyes without warning. Your face burns, and you feel it screw up in an attempt to keep them from falling. “Yeah,” you say unsteadily. “I’m just—so—sorry.” 

Two things happen seemingly at once: your voice fractures, and Sirius crushes you to him. 

Remus exhales. You hear the creak of his chair taking his weight again. “Shit.” 

“Shh, I know,” Sirius murmurs, petting your head while your tears spill over to wet his jumper—Remus’ jumper, which smells like both of them and probably also you. “I know, baby, it’s okay. You’re safe here.” 

“I’m sorry,” Remus says. His voice sounds muffled, as though he’s speaking into his hands. 

“No, it’s—I’m sorry.” You sniff, trying to wipe under your eyes. Sirius keeps you held to his front. “It’s not your fault.” 

“It is my fault.” 

“I believe I said we were done with the squabbling.” Sirius kisses your head firmly. “What do you need, sweetness? Some quiet? Time to breathe?” 

“I’m okay. Really, I’m fine.” You give Sirius a grateful squeeze before letting him go. He lets you, but watches you concernedly as you swipe a knuckle underneath your eyes. The ringing in your ears has faded to near nothing, aftershocks trembling through your fingers in its wake.  “I’m fine. I just—needed a second. Sorry.” 

Sirius makes a quiet sound. “Stop that. You don’t have to be sorry.” 

Remus nods his agreement. His head is in his hands, you can see now, but he lifts it up to look you in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.” 

You shake your head. “You were right. I was insensitive. And I don’t know why I reacted like that, I’m just being dramatic.” 

“Oi,” Sirius cuts in sternly, though half as stern as he’d usually be even to tease you. “I’m dramatic. Get your own personality.” 

That gets your lips to twitch a little. You watch as Remus sends him one of his fond, exasperated looks. 

“You weren’t being dramatic,” Remus says to you. “I shouted at you. However angry I was, that’s not alright. I’m sorry I scared you.” 

“You didn’t scare me.” Your eyes are beginning to burn again. You try to blink through it. “It was just—it was—” 

“I understand,” he says, softly. His expression is still taut with pain, but some of the harsher lines have melted away. “I’m sorry anyway. Do you want to come here?” 

Sirius hums satisfiedly when you go sit across Remus’ lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He draws his hand up and down your back slowly, with enough pressure to ease away any lingering tension coiled around your spine. You breathe out. Sirius doesn’t hold out long before he’s there too, curled around the two of you and squeezing heartily. 

“You two aren’t allowed to fight,” he mutters, kissing your head and Remus’ in turn. “In order for me to be petty and vain, I need you to be the sensible ones, understand? This is a delicate ecosystem.” 

“I don’t know,” you hum. “I think Remus should get breaks some way or another around the full moon. Can’t you take a sensible shift once a month?” 

Sirius lets out a sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, but you hear the gentle sound of him pressing another kiss to Remus’ head. “Suppose so. Only once a month, though.” 

[lustlovehart]

Lonely Boat, Troubled Waters

A/n: Inspired by this post

Pairing: Monster!Octavinelle x Reader

Summary: It seems, after getting involved with these three, you can't ever be alone in their waters. It's the only place where they can have you all to themselves. You better believe they want to keep it that way.

Warnings: Obsessive & Possessive traits, Desired Imprisonment, Murder and Violence, Touchy Trio, Not canon to Monster!Twst au

You yelp at the feeling of saltwater suddenly splashing you from all sides, your boat dangerously rocking at the sudden weight. So much weight, in fact, you’re worried that attempting to row your boat would lead to its collapse. Or maybe it’s just overthinking, after all, it’s not common for 3 of the most well-known sea beasts to take on a smaller form just to talk to a human hunter.

“Not you three…”

If it is common, you hope to befriend this other human and ask if their sea monsters are just as horrible as yours.

“Quit ignorin’ us already.” Floyd’s cold, wet, clawed hand slips under your uniform, touching your side. You shiver at the contact, giving him the exact reaction he wished for, but you don’t express anymore. He pouts at you, still acting as if he doesn’t exist. You can tell he’s about to whine at you for being boring before another hand, similar to his, takes hold of the oar in your hand.

“He’s right. It’s very hurtful when you act like we’re nothing… We care for you lots.” This time, your eyes turn to your left, not rotating your head, but nonetheless focusing on him. His fingers wrap around yours, slipping under your grip to hold the paddle while still holding your hands in his. You eye him suspiciously. “Don’t you care for us?” You’re a second too late to notice the mischief in his eye, as he’s already stealing the oar from your grasp and tossing it several feet away, into the water. “Oh my… Forgive me, I didn’t mean it.”

Yes he did.

He smiles at you, a courteous smile you’d expect from a man you’re having dinner with, not a 10(?) something feet long serpent… You don’t say anything, signaling with your hands for him to fetch it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. It should be, but Jade has to make everything ten times harder for you.

“Well? Go get it then?”

“Well, you don’t need to yell… It was truly an accident.” No, it wasn’t.

He pauses when you lean in, your forehead almost touching his. From afar, anyone would believe you’re about to kiss him if it weren’t for the strained smile on your lips. “If it’s an accident, go get it.”

“I’m afraid I have… what’s it called…? Ah, thalassaphobia.”

“Wha—? You live in the sea Jade—“ you’re reminded it’s not just the two of you by the way Floyd smacks his tail against the dinghy wood of the boat. The vessel rocks roughly back and forth, forcing you to flop into Floyd.

“Jade’s s’not that important… There’s more than just him here ya know.”

… He’s right. You’re reminded about the kraken that bobs up and down in the water. Once again, Floyd isn’t satisfied though, clearly annoyed that his comment had you focus on Azul instead. His sigh seems performative, loud, raspy, and slightly shouty. He wraps his arm around your waist, continuing to sigh into your body instead. You can feel his muffled groans on your side, but you pay no mind (The exact opposite of what he wants. Shrimpy’s no fun). It had Jade chuckling at the sight while Floyd claws at him from your other side.

The two serpents bicker back and forth at each other, yet you're too entranced by Azul's backside to take notice of their argument. For once, he's not suave with his persona, opting to stare distantly at the land you row(ed) for. You can hear Jade's laughs and Floyd's groans die down when you break from their possession and move to the front, touching Azul's transparent shoulder.

"You're not trying to scam me. Who are you?"

"I hope you don't think I'm so evil, I spend every waking moment thinking of how to persuade, not scam," his tentacle splits from the water and points at you, "you." You're silent for a moment.

"But you do."

"I do not."

"Jade and Floyd showed me your 300-page strategic book with over 50 ways to convince me to live with you guys."

"They what—?!" Azul's large body turns in the water, splashing water up. You would've got hit if it weren't for the fact he moved you away with a free tentacle. "You two— That was confidential!"

The two of them look at Azul, then at each other, before finally landing on you, a smile slowly creeping on their lips. Floyd whistles in amusement as Jade chuckles beneath his hand.

"We didn't do anything. I think Shrimpy got you there Azul!"

"Indeed."

...

"Ah." Azul's face is blank. So. You made a guess and ended up being completely right. Maybe you should take up fortune telling instead of monster hunting.

You can watch him slowly retreat back into the water. No doubt, so he can hide from view. Though it would be hard considering his size, and the fact that he quite literally glows if the light hits him right. But even then, he would never leave you, never. He would just linger beneath the boat as you moved towards land.

Right... Move towards land—

"What were you staring at, Azul?" You lean over the boat, vocally stopping Azul from submerging into the depths. If you were to be pushed from behind, there's no doubt you would fall into the water. Seemingly, his expression shifts, holding nothing as he looks at you.

A moment passes, and he doesn't answer, and then another, until you finally decide to sink back into the boat and let him brood,

You think you hear him say something, but it's unintelligible to human ears. It's an array of clicks and shrieks. You've heard them speak like that, but typically... It's when they're... eating...

For some reason, you think you're falling asleep. Your body falls back at the sudden exhaustion, Jade's built, glacial arm catching you before you hit wood. You can feel him pull you closer, enveloping his limbs around you in a hug as he holds you.

Why are you... tired...?

Despite your fading vision, you can see Floyd's face in your view, smiling as his clawed finger pokes your cheek. Even though he was happily playing along with his antics earlier, Jade scolds Floyd, telling him he can't touch you in this state lest you accidentally break.

You think. You don't know. You don't know...

Azul leans over the frame of the boat, his tentacles wrapping around its exterior. He brings it closer to his body, until he's face to face with you. He doesn't say anything though, looking back at the land.

"You don't truly wish to return to that prison, do you?" Wha... Prison? Your... Home...?

Your head lolls side to side with the boat, but you're conscious enough to keep up conversation.

"What are you on...?"

"That boss of yours just throws everythin' on ya, why would ya wanna go back?" Jade's finger taps against your skin, still caging you in his arms. Each tap is timed, 2 seconds between each contact. It's like he's counting down.

You watch Azul through squinted eyes. With a sigh, he ducks down, fully immersing himself in water before reappearing. He climbs onto to boat in his temporary human form, quickly spelling clothes for himself. His hair is still wet though, cold sea water dripping onto your face when he looks at you.

"My goodness, don't come too close, Azul." Jade pulls you in, his shoulder separating you two in your daze. "I'll get jealous." Azul doesn't reply, only rolling his eyes and flicking him away from you. It earns a laugh from Jade, but he remains firm in his hold on you.

You're on the verge of giving in to slumber. They can all tell. Azul takes the opportunity to leave you with his departing words.

"It's okay. We'll make sure you're not reminded of that place when you're here," he taps you're heart, like it's a promise. "When you're here, you'll be the only one on these waters. You won't want to go back to land."

Your eyes close, and all hear is splashing as the boat rocks, the vessel quickly moving through the sea.

...

You're quickly awoken by the worried screams of terror that surround you. More specifically, though, you're shaken by the sounds of urgent callings. When your eyes flicker open, you're greeted by the sight of Rollo and Jack ushering you to get up.

"What's... Going—?" You don't have the chance to finish that sentence, Jack hoisting you in his arms swiftly. For a moment, it earns protest from Rollo, but when he remembers the situation, he stops fighting.

When you finally fully open your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of flames and panic.

"Monster!"

"It's gonna kill us!"

"No...! Look! There's two more...!"

"Those...! Those three have high-ranked bounties! Augh—!"

It's when you spot co workers aimlessly running towards the threat do you finally look.

The sight of a giant tentacle and two twin serpents attacking the docks.

No ship is safe, whether big or only enough to fit only one person. It's swiftly destroyed. Crew members either fall into the water and are swallowed by the twins or are taken from their hiding spots and thrown miles away into the sea by Azul. It's a massacre.

Even boats in the sea are struck, sailing peacefully on the ocean before being cruelly overtaken by a serpent or tentacle.

You should be fighting, you really should be, but you're body is still exhausted. More importantly, you're horrified that you know these monsters on a personal level.

Jack and Rollo can easily see your distress. The former quickly sets you down, patting your head once before leaving you with Rollo.

"It's okay. I won't let them even look at you."

"No—no...! It's not that...!"

"Then what is it—" He's cut off by the way you quickly bury your head in his shoulder, your hands desperately clinging to his clothes. He doesn't speak anymore, only allowing you to hold on. It's okay, he'll make sure Crowley doesn't see you two not doing your job.

...

By the time they're done, there's not a soul left alive on that dock. In fact, there is no longer a dock, nor any debris from it. It's as if they completely erased its existence.

You shoo Rollo away. Like typical, he's hesitant, doing his three attempts of asking 'are you sure?', before finally leaving you alone.

You walk towards the water, all signs of life completely wiped, except one. You.

You and your boat are the only things left there. You think that's the cruelest part. Even boats devoid of people were taken, but your dinghy, little raft, remains. You're about to kick the damn thing before you're splashed by water.

The three of them surround the vessel in their tiny forms, smiling as if they didn't just run a massacre on the people of your island. They're all signaling you to get on.

They want you on that boat, sailing in their waters, all alone, accompanied by no one but them.

A/n: I say MH!Mc just stay on that island, but then I remember Azul could probably just pluck them off due to his size </3. Even then though, if you take jobs again, you're stuck in their waters once more (And they're even more upset because, have you been ignoring them :(((??).

For you, it's unfortunately retirement (You get taken by a monster or monsters) or continuing to take jobs (You are obsessed over by the entire cast).

[jesuistrestriste]

more art x milf reader! we all say in unison 🙇‍♀️

cw (18+) : needy!art donaldson, milf!reader, jealousy, masturbation, mention of alcohol/intoxication, pillow humping, mommy kink

it was usually hard to tell if she was flirting with him or just being her usual, saccharine-sweet self. whenever he and her would converse, a generally rare and heaven-sent occasion, he’d pay careful attention to her appearance and the little details she seemed to keep consistent each time; deep mauve lipstick perfectly slicked to her pout, freshly manicured nails, low rise jeans that hugged her curves in a way that made his stomach fizzle and flood with heat.

right after the most recent match on campus, he’d been granted another opportunity to have a full, lengthy discussion with her. he was absolutely dripping with salty sweat and panting like a dog, but she didn’t seem to mind too much at the time—batting her lashes and patting the seat next to her to invite him closer. he had wiped at his damp brow when they began to talk, pulling at his collar afterwards (burning up from the inside out), and then made sure that he was smiling at all of the right times as he listened to her speak. he tried his hardest to focus on the words leaving her mouth: tennis player.. thrilling match point.. congratulations.. you’re a star. the nervous laugh that clogged his throat when he registered her praising sentiment only caused his cheeks to flare a deeper shade of pink, and his fingers reflexively squeezed the metal edge of the bleachers underneath him. she’d smiled in return and only doubled-down on her compliments then. he just had to sit there and take it, fidgeting and folding his legs into different positions to try to hide the swell of his desire. it was a mess of an interaction, and art was well-aware how embarrassing it was for him to be acting like a teenage boy in front of such a sophisticated, charming, yet down-to-earth older woman, but he sincerely could not help himself. it was impossible to stay sane in her presence.

the universe gifted him a couple more similar interactions with her in the following month, and this only worked to solidify his (wildly inappropriate) obsession. he’d go to class and think about her bubbly laughter, he’d eat in the dining hall and forget to chew when thoughts of her mouth infected his mind, and he’d even started to lose himself in her image when he was playing tennis—which, for him, was incredibly damning. tennis was usually a healthy distraction, a coping mechanism, as it rarely allowed him to get lost in irrelevant ideas. his head was almost always in the game. so, when he was in the middle of a practice singles match with another stanford player one evening and missed a shot because a flash of her thighs rendered him boneless and swallowing a whimper, he knew he had a real problem.

masturbation didn’t even help.

not in the slightest.

he jerked off in the showers regularly, fisting his aching, angry cock with urgency as he pressed his forehead into the tile wall and moaned her name into the running water. he’d buck his hips to gain friction against his palm when he orgasmed, clapping his free hand over his mouth to stifle his repetitive mewling, and then would watch as his wasted load swirled down the drain.

it was all very routine. it usually was a temporary solution to the desperate and persistent yearning he felt during every agonizing minute of every torturous day. more broadly, it was just hard to ignore the reality that he’d never been so horny in his entire life—and it was all because of her, though he could never truly blame her beauty. his perverse nature was the real culprit.

the only time that he’d successfully been able to get off and get over her for longer than an hour happened when he came back to his dorm room after a party thrown by a handful of the other members of the tennis team. he’d gotten drunk on beer and cheap shots, egregiously so, but still found himself stumbling into his room with half of an erection bulging in the front of his pants. as he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his bottoms, he recalled what one of his teammates had said about her in the middle of the function—

“she’s so fucking hot, isn’t she? i mean, shit, i’d do anything to fuck her.”

art had never considered himself a violently jealous person, but in that very moment at the party something ugly had reared its head and he’d wanted nothing more than to put his fist to the guy’s teeth until his own knuckles cracked and bled. the guy had never even talked to her before, whereas it could be argued that art and her were almost friends. if anyone deserved to squeeze her plush tits and slide their unworthy dick into her perfect pussy, it was him. he ended up having to walk away from that cesspool of locker-room talk in order to avoid starting something that would surely land him in hot water with the university.

he took off his shirt and dropped it down onto his floor to meet his other garments as he staggered deeper into his cramped living space, crawling up to lay on his twin xl. his hand was immediately in his boxers in the next moment, fondling his warm flesh as it swelled hungrily in his touch, and he groaned and shuddered as he felt his head spin wildly. art then turned to flip himself gracelessly over onto his stomach, limbs moving uncoordinatedly with each brief shift of his weight. his jaw slacked and he gasped pathetically into his sheets as he humped his curled set of digits. though, when he blinked his eyes open blearily, his wasted brain formed a filthy idea..

“ohhh, fuck me,” he whimpered, shoving a pillow from the top of his mattress between his legs, his pelvis arching back only to rut forward and smush his clothed shaft into the cushion, “i’m all yours.. please, use m’cock.. don’t take anyone else’s, i wan’ be the only one—!”

he slurred through every lewd word that left his mouth. his abdomen curled and tensed as he began to feverishly hump the softness under him, his cock throbbing with incoming drizzles of pleasure. he clawed at his bedding like he was some sort of drooling, snarling, chained-up monstrosity. felt like one too with all of the arousal paralyzing his frame. every cell in his being was on fire with the debilitating need to be nestled in her sopping cunt, hugged by her slick walls and pleasing her any way that he was able. he imagined sucking on her nipples until she pulled his hair.. her soft tongue on the seam of his sack.. her fingers at the back of his throat, fluttering and giving him something to worship as he pounded up into her. his thrusts quickened to sync with the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage. he was so close that he almost felt sick with it all.

art's noises raised in pitch and volume with every second; everything was boiling over in record time.

“oh no—“ he drunkenly choked and moaned, teetering on the edge, “mommy, i’m gonna come inside you—i’m, i’m so—it feels s’good, i can’t hol’ it anymore—please don’t b’mad, i really like y—HAAH—“

he pushed himself up onto his palms and let out a strangled, wet cry as he suddenly felt the world close in on him. head tipped back, toes curled, muscles flexed. white flashes erupted behind his low lids, something hot gushing copiously from his tip and into his underwear.. over and over and over and over again. a final curse flew from his lips as his climax wrapped its arms around his body and flooded him with the last bits of boiling gratification—so much so that it was almost numbing. his hips moved jerkily through the lingering sensations; they snapped downward several times until the spilling of fluids ceased and was only replaced by the feeling of all-consuming oversensitivity. art quaked from his head down to his toes, squirming and hiccuping against the stimulation that only he could save himself from.

when he finally collapsed into a panting heap, the fantasy of her core wringing him dry starting to fade out, he'd sucked at his bottom lip and let out the tiniest of whines.

“mommy.. mommy, mommy, mommy..”

he whimpered it until he fell asleep.

tags : @voidsuites @asheepinfrance @fawnnpaws @artstennisracket @andyrambles @imperishablereverie @ghostgirl-22 @lexiiscorect @cha11engers @patricksbf @newrochellechallenger2019 @pittsick @blastzachilles @oncefaist

[babydoll372]

well, lemme stop that not getting requests thing

could you bless us with more stalker!wanda? msybe a second part of what you already have, or with something else, because i‘m literally feral for stalker wanda 😔✋ like down bad

maybe for something new, stalker!wanda is something like ingrid from ingrid goes west, if you know that? like she stalks r through insta and is desperate to become close to her, starts acting similar to r so r will like her and ends up becoming r‘s best friend and then something more?

Creeper Pt.2

Pairings: stalker!wanda x reader

Word count: 1612

Warnings: smut, shy!wanda, stalking, photography without permission, implied kidnapping, roleplaying, cunnilingus, fingering, implied further smut, mentions of strap ons, obsessive!Wanda, slight jealousy, public sex, begging, praise kink, dom!r, sub!wanda, talks of cnc, social media stalking

Kinda combined these two requests tgth so I hope you like :) thank you for my first actual request

Wanda scrolled through each photo you had posted in the last hour, you must still be at the party. You have to be. And in your beautiful black dress, she saw a glimpse of in the back of one of your posts 6 months ago hanging up, now she could envision it on your body. She snuck into the party and quickly grabbed a red solo cup, acting as if it was full but really it was empty, the only thing she wanted to taste tonight was you, and she’d be damned if she let alcohol get in the way.

She scoured the area, refreshing your page every few seconds until she spotted you in a corner talking to two women and one male, making her instantly shrink. Now that she was facing you, she didn’t know how she would be able to react or talk to you. She danced the cup around in her hand and would occasionally grab her phone to sneak photos of you. But when you said your farewell to the three others and walked towards the kitchen, the room she was in, she felt her body envelope with hope. She cleared her throat and turned in a different direction, acting as if she hadn’t been watching you and knew everything about you.

“Excuse me?” She quickly turned to look at the source of the voice - you. She gulped nervously and stood taller, trying to hold herself confidently.

“H-hey, you look beautiful…”

“Thank you. Uh, you’re-“

“I’m Wanda,” She outstretched her hand for you to shake and you slowly reached up to take it, raising a brow as you did.

“Hello, Wanda. You’re in the way of the beer, you mind moving?” Her eyes widened and she had never moved so quickly, her gaze staring you down as you popped open the bottle and took a sip, glancing over at her as she quickly averted.

“You have a staring problem?”

“Wha- no! No, no, I- I don’t, ma’am..” Dumbass. This is a college party and she just called you ma’am. A stranger, well, to you she was a stranger, just called you ma’am. You smirked and leaned on the countertop.

“Wanda, huh? Where are you from?”

“Oh, I live around here..b-but I lived in Sokovia until I was 9!” You nodded slowly, stepping an inch closer to hear her better over the deafening music in the room beside you.

“Sokovia? Fancy…what brought you to Westview?” You took a sip of your beer once you finished speaking and she watched the way your sharp jaw shined just right under the LED lights embarking the house, your throat swallowing the liquid easing down your throat as if it was nothing.

“Well, my parents wanted better for me and my brother…” She couldn’t form an answer with your alluring appearance, and the hint of your perfume over the smell of beer and sweat lurking the house. She tried to keep the conversation going but eventually, you got bored and moved on, but she wasn’t going to end it there. No, she couldn’t leave this behind, she couldn’t ruin her one chance. So when you left the house that night she followed with a distance, already knowing your house location and how to get there, so tracking you was easy. She eventually quickened her pace and hid against an alleyway wall, peeking her head over once to see you turning the corner in her direction. She grinned nervously to herself, knowing this was what she had to do. If you weren’t willing to give yourself freely then she’d have to take you. When she heard your heels connecting with the concrete at a much closer distance, she reached out and yanked your body into her arms, holding you against the wall and shushing you with a hand over your mouth. Your eyes were wide as you wiggled violently in her arms, trying desperately to escape.

“Shh, shh, please don’t do that…please, I’ve worked so hard to get to this point, I need you to not fight me on this.” She pleaded, smiling softly at you once you slowly calmed down, tears streaming down your cheeks. She gently removed her hand from your mouth once you shook your head to her question, she asked if you’d scream if she removed her hand. You knew there was no one in sight, no one to save you, at least.

“You look so pretty when you cry…did you know that? I bet you didn’t, but that’s okay, Y/N.”

“H-how do you know my name…?” You never once shared your own personal information with her at the party, you only asked and she shared. She giggled and shrugged.

“I know everything about you…I love you.” She pressed a kiss to your lips after a moment of silence and you smiled into it, kissing back until she pulled away. “Was that good…?”

“Oh, you did so good, baby…I didn’t realize how hot roleplaying could be until you grabbed me like that.” She blushed under the city light and quickly took out her phone.

“I took photos of you like you asked. I- I also took them on my camera when you were at home getting ready.” Her white and shiny teeth were made visible as she smiled to herself, knowing you’d be proud of her for following what you asked her to do. Wanda had never roleplayed, the thought never even crossed her mind until you suggested it as you were riding the strap you forced on her one day in your bedroom, and she could only blabber out agreements to the deal so that she could cum, imagining it was inside of you and that the strap was her cock. She thought it’d be embarrassing, awkward even, but she proved herself wrong when she let herself embrace the psychotic character that was really just her deep down. She ‘pretended’ to be your stalker, which you forced her to do as an ounce of humiliation, considering she had already stalked you beforehand. She then had to take photos of you, just like she always did before, and you wouldn’t get to know when she was doing it. And if you caught her, it’d be a punishment. The rest was fair game for her, she was allowed to play it out however she wanted, and you just had to accept it willingly, which you did.

“Mm, I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. C'mon, lean against the wall and take those pants off, let me show you how proud I am.” Her eyes widened as she looked around, and despite the empty streets, she still clutched her crotch anxiously.

“Are you sure no one will walk by? W-what if there’s a cop-“

“Stop being a baby, weren’t you just the one about to kidnap me? Where’d that Wanda go, huh? Now get against the wall and let me eat you out, pretty girl.” She shyly nodded and unbuttoned her trousers, lowering them and her underwear to her upper thighs in case she had to pull them up in a hurry at some point.

“Mm, look at that pretty pussy…did tonight get you this wet? Yeah? Tell me your favorite part.” She was about to speak until she felt your lips wrap around her clit and you moaned loudly, clearly in exaggeration. She threw her head back, not caring for the slight pain that was caused by the bricks behind her as she brought her hand to your head.

“M-my favorite- fuck! Part was w-when I grabbed you and- and pushed you against this wall- mm!” Your tongue lapped against her pulsing bud as you glanced up at her with dopey eyes, and she whimpered eagerly. You pulled back for a second and spit on your fingers, rubbing them along her hole that clenched around nothing.

“You twisted little girl- it turns you on when I’m helpless and defenseless against you?” You cooed out as your fingers entered her and were quick to pull out to the base of your fingertips, only to return, creating a steady motion. Your lips returned, lapping up her juices before bringing them to her clit as an unneeded lubricant.

“Y-yes, ma’am…oh, I- I think I’m close-“

“No, no, no, not yet, Wanda…good girls wait for my permission.” She whined, her legs shaking already as your digits continued to pump furiously inside of her, making her stomach clench tightly and reveal a delicately crafted sculpture of a six-pack. It wasn’t too noticeable, but it was enough to make you moan under your breath.

“Please, I- I’ve been a good girl for you t-today, a really good girl!” You giggled, pulling away from her cunt and having a string of her juices follow you. Your chin was already soaked and she hadn’t even finished yet.

“Tell me how much you love me.”

“I love you so- so fucking much!”

“Tell me how badly you need me, baby.”

“I-… mph! I need you more than anything!”

“Tell me how obsessed you are with me.”

“I’m so obsessed- I love you s-so much, I- I can’t get over you, I need you! Please! Please let me cum!”

“…Cum for me, Wanda.” She didn’t waste another moment, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her juices trailed down your fingers, your mouth instantly finding home once more on her pussy to lap up her release. She whimpered in clear overstimulation and you chuckled against her, slowly pulling away as she held onto you tightly, instantly missing the full feeling of your fingers.

“Once we get to my house we are fucking all night, baby girl.”

[yurinaa-world]

"𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓮?"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: (DMC5) Dante x Gender-neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Dante can't help but feel a little insecure when his body is losing itself at his old age

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, 1k word count & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I had to make another one

💫𝒟𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒 “𝒮𝑜𝓃 𝒪𝒻 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒹𝒶”

Every day with you felt like a dream—waking up to you, while ignoring the countless calls ringing downstairs, eating with you. At the same time, you complain about his everlasting diet (boasts about having good skin even now), 

hanging out with you, when he should be doing work and adulting so that the devil may cry office does lose its power again since he can’t take on any job that doesn’t interest—he’s got standards he tells you, he’s not some easy man who’ll take any job that comes his way, it’s an insult that you would think that way about him.

At the beginning of the night, he takes off his boot, coat thrown somewhere that can keep it from falling from the floor—it ends up falling onto the floor anyway, in the middle of the night—The way you’d sigh and elbow him for hogging the blankets, the way he’d pull you closer anyway, muttering something about "have some chivalry" as if he were some kind of sleeping beauty.

You spent as long as you can remember with him in this cycle, going through many phases together. 

.

Now that he gets older, he can't help but get nostalgic. Back in the day, back when he was majestic (and still is), he looked like he was meant to be in Baywatch—and it isn’t his insane ego talking for him (it is). He remembered how you used to swoon over him (his words, not yours), watching with a look in your eyes that made your pupils look like hearts.

Which, in your interpretation, you don’t exactly remember you being as desperate and love-struck as he claims, though you did have a habit of lingering a little too long—but in your defence, that’s because you were worried about him. And he certainly won’t admit that he was projecting how he used to act onto you.

Ah. Those were the days he misses at times, yet somehow, you look even more attractive now than you did back then—something he’d say out loud, of course. (more differently and obnoxiously of saying it, "Guess my good looks finally rubbed off on you."). Even now, he still acts like the love-struck teenager he was back then.

But one of the few downsides of getting older was that he was prone to gaining a bit of weight, his body had the abs…just a little weight added onto (those pizzas were beginning to catch up with him in his 40s), staring at the mirror for a little. He usually would pout and try to get some reassurance from you, which you always gave. 

But today, he just felt strangely insecure over it, more than usual, so he finds himself not mentioning it to you.

He stands there a little longer than usual, fingers pressing against the slight softness where hard edges used to be. The mirror doesn’t lie—but then again, neither does time. He scowls at his reflection, as if sheer force of will could carve the years away.

“What are you doing?” 

You already knew what he was doing, but still had the courtesy to ask him, raising an eyebrow as you came out of the shower freshly clean and the smell of the body wash you use still radiating off.

Walking past Dante was in front of the full-length mirror—sitting on the edge of the bed as you take some lotion to put on your skin.

Dante huffs, crossing his arms as he finally tears his gaze away from the mirror. "Just admiring the view," he says, flashing you that same roguish grin that’s charmed you for decades—though now, the look in his eyes is similar to whenever he gets nightmares and he tries to persuade you otherwise.

Setting the lotion aside, you stand and cross the short distance between you, your fingers brushing his arm before sliding down to intertwine with his.  

"Admiring the view, huh?" you murmur, tilting your head. "Funny, because I was just thinking the same thing." Your other hand is going to cup his stubble cheek.

His smirk softens at your touch, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He leans into your palm, the roughness of his stubble pricks against your skin like tiny dull needles.  

"Cheesy," he mutters, but there's no bite to it—just that quiet, rare fondness he reserves only for you. His fingers tighten around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, absent rhythm. 

“Takes one to know one.”

You press a kiss to his jaw, right where the stubble is the softest, and feel the way his breath hitches—just slightly, just enough for you to notice.  

Dante exhales through his nose, turning his head to catch your lips properly, his free hand coming up to tangle in your damp hair. He can't help but bring his lips pressed tightly against your lips.

His stubble scrapes against your skin, and it’s rough; you can’t help the small sigh that escapes you. Dante swallows it greedily, his other hand sliding down to grip your waist, fingers pressing into the dip of your spine like the desperate maiden he is.

Your free hand goes to the little space between you and traces the slight softness where his abs used to be more defined. 

Dante tenses for just a second—that split-second hesitation that betrays him more than any words could. But then your fingers spread wide, pressing possessively against the warm skin of his stomach, and something in his posture shifts. 

"Still feels the same," you murmur against his lips, dragging your hand up to feel the solid muscle beneath. 

His hands can’t help but be influenced by your own when his hand goes under the waistband of your clothing.

"You," you murmur against his mouth, "are still my favorite view."

Dante barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s kissing you harder, rough and desperate, his hands sliding under your clothes like he can’t get close enough.

"You’re gonna kill me one day," he mutters, pulling your hand off his cheek, grinning as he presses his face right in your neck—the hairs pricking your neck nicely.

If you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[godmadeaterribleerror]

What You Do

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving, fingering), light angst, light fluff, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: This isn't a sex curse. It feel like a sex curse, and looks like a sex curse, but it's not. It has a similar cure to a sex curse, but it's not. And Dean can't fix this.

But the asshole is still going to try.

Author's Note: Back on my (not) sex pollen bullshit. Enjoy!

Title from Shadowboxer by Fiona Apple

Word Count: 7.6k

Sometimes you wish Dean was just a little bit worse of a person. 

He seems to think he’s a worse person. He thinks he’s a bad person. 

He’s not. 

Because a bad person would have left you to writhe and moan on the floor after you got hit with this stupid curse, snapping at you to stand up and pull it together. But Dean had fallen to his knees at your side, brushing away your hair and wiping sweat and blood from your skin. With his hands. Big hands. Big, warm, rough hands with strong, deft fingers that always move so deliberately, that can bruise and mark your skin and fill you up and-

You wished you’d had the strength and mind to push him away in that moment. To grab those hands and shove them away from your face, because where they were usually sparking fireworks, they were setting off nuclear explosions. You wished you’d screamed at him in that moment to at least stop cradling your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones and sending lighting through your blood and into your gut.

But you hadn’t understood what this was. You’d really thought that you were just high on adrenaline and Dean’s touch, the combination making you hornier than usual. 

You’d been so fucking wrong. And now Dean won’t stop being a good person, and it’s going to kill you.

He’d insisted on carrying you. You’d taken two, shaking steps, your knees had bucked in an attempt to relieve the pressure between your legs, and Dean had simply refused to let you fall.

“Dean, I can get it, I just need to keep-“

“You say trying,” He’d snapped your name, hooking his arm under your knees and hauling you up his chest. “I’ll fucking shoot you.”

Normally you would’ve protested—insisting that you did need to keep trying, and Dean was just being dramatic—but he’d been warm and strong around you, muscles flexing and shifting as he walked back to the Impala, and your face had come into dangerously close contact with his neck. 

You’d bitten through your lip in order not to brush soft kisses over his jaw, suck a spot on his neck, or bite him and see what he’d do to get you back. You’d only made it to the car—and later, into the motel—because you’d been able to bury your face in his skin, and it had tided you over. The smell of Dean—evergreen and spice and gunpowder and something you knew to just purely be him—acting as an anesthetic. Dulling the stabbing, throbbing, and aching pain between your legs and in your gut, soothing your heart back down from the franticly paced rhythm it had set since you’d been hit by that spell.

When he’d set you down on the bed, there had been a brief moment of relief—no more reason to worry about accidentally jumping on him at the worst possible time—before it had all gotten worse. Dean had drawn away, and everything had become a white-hot flame on your every nerve and a sore, blistering cold on your skin. You’d screamed, Dean had rushed back to your side, and he’d started to touch you again. Looking for a wound or mark on your body that he could blame.

There wasn’t one. This was entirely the curse. And every time Dean drew away it was worse—sweat staining your clothing and shivers moving up and down your spine—so you’d agree for him to just stay near you. On the edge of the bed, not touching you because that made everything worse in a different way. Proximity was the best he could offer. 

But it wasn’t a fool proof. You were still going out of your mind with desire. And Dean was not helping. He was still being a good fucking person, and he wouldn’t leave you alone. You’d been rolling and moaning into the sheets, whining and humping the air, and Dean had just sat there. 

His arms had been braced on his knees. You’d almost started crying as the memory of those knees being shoved between your thighs had sent a newer, stronger wave of desire through your body.

Just another reason Dean needed to go. He’d been refusing to look at you—only staring at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen—and that makes your lungs feel like iron in your chest because why. Why wouldn’t he look at you.

It could be is that he was disgusted by the sight of you. That he’s only ever seen you like this in low, glowing darkness, and when you’re cast in the shifting sunlight between the blinds, he can’t pretend you’re just another body in a bed. Maybe this is making that too real for him. That you’re the one that makes those desperate sounds that always make his hips stutter. You’re the one who grinds like this onto his dick, and who scratches at his back the same way you’ve been scratching at the mattress.

But then sometimes Dean would look at you, and it was far worse. You couldn’t read that expression, either because he didn’t want you to, or because nothing existed outside of Dean when he looked at you. Things like reading him—studying his every breath and shift in the chair—didn’t matter. He was so handsome. Strong jaw and tanned skin, small freckles you could map in your sleep—you’ve certainly done it before, in the dead of night when he couldn’t know—and green eyes that were almost too pretty. They were like falling stars. Bright and colorful and never yours to just reach up and take. Passing by you in the night. Never colliding with you in a way that would leave a damage you’d love to suffer through.

Dean would look at you, and you’d get lovelorn and drunk on his attention, and then you’d make a lewd sound you couldn’t swallow and buck off the bed. 

And he’d cough, sit up a little taller—more vigilant, like he could just defend himself for the horrible sight of you—and look away.

And you’d be left in pain and want again.

He’d kept trying to talk to you, while you waited for Sam to call him back with a name for this curse, and a way to cure it. 

“So, uh.” He’d cleared his throat, the sound had been gravely and rough, and you’d almost flown out of your skin. “We’re gonna have to stick around for a few days, to make sure this isn’t a coven situation, but we can do whatever the hell we want. Long as we’re in town. I was thinking, I saw a movie theatre-“

You’d gasped, something jumpstarting in your chest and shooting into your gut at the idea of going to see a movie with Dean. His hand on your thigh in the dark, wandering up your leg and tracing pattens, leaning down to your ear to whisper bad jokes, chuckling when you told him to shut up, but fully laughing when you’d joke back-

“Shit, are you-“

“I’m fine.” You’d said, and you don’t think he’d believed you. Fuck, you hadn’t believed you. “Movie sounds good.”

“Yeah, uh, I saw a diner too. We could do a movie, and get dinner.”

You hadn’t been able to see him. You’d started to lie flat on your back a few hours ago, and Dean had been nothing more than a deep, strong voice that sounded like rainfall and crackling fire in your head. Drowning you in the sound and echoing it around your skull, ravaging through you with just noise and igniting an iridescent light on every part of you he’d touched before.

He’d touch you everywhere before. He’d touched you at a diner. Bumped his foot with yours under a table, raised his brows in a silent question, and smirked when you’d given a small nod. He’d knocked on your door that night. He’d been gone from your bed the next morning. 

And dinner and a movie wasn’t what you and Dean did. You did things like that.

But Dean had been suggesting it. Saying it casually in that impossibly powerful voice. You’d had to bite down a scream at the idea of getting to lean over the table in the diner—wiping some crumbs off his lips as he grinned at you—and he’d still been talking- 

“Then I saw an awesome looking carnival a town over, we could check that out-“

You’d passed out. 

When you’d woken up, Dean was hunched at the side of the bed, muttering low words into his phone. 

The first one you’d been able to make out was Sam.

You’d never moved faster in your life.

You’d grabbed the phone out of Dean’s hand, ignoring his grunt of protest and how touching his hand had made you a little dizzy. “Sam Winchester, if you can’t tell me what the fuck is wrong with me, I’m going to throw your fucking hair mousse-“

“I don’t- Uh-“ Sam had cleared his throat through the speaker. “How did you know about-“

“I get bored and snoop.” You’d snapped. “Nothing gets past me, Samuel, and I swear to god I’m going to take all the razors you hid and let Dean shave your head-“

“Jesus,” Sam had muttered your name, and it hadn’t been a good sign that the didn’t sound mad or annoyed. He’d sounded like he pitied you. It had made your whole body tense. “It’s really that bad, isn’t it.”

You’d frowned into the air. “I don’t-“

“The curse. You’re really pissed, Dean says you get like that when you’re, um…“ Sam had trailed off, and you’d scowled.

“When I’m what?”

 “I don’t wanna say it.”

“Sam-“

“Pent up.” Sam had muttered, the words clipped through the speaker, and if the thought of him dead didn’t make your heart fracture and splinter, you would’ve killed Dean right there. The asshole.

He’d still been sitting on the bed. If you’d leaned a little closer, you would’ve collapsed over him. He’d needed to stop looking so fucking worried. Being so warm you could feel it radiating from his body and seeping into your skin and stoking that need-

“Sam,” you’d whispered, your fingers curling in the sheets and your nails pushing into your skin. “What’s going on?”

He’d let out a long breath, only static silence on the phone for a long moment before he spoke. “I think it’s a famine curse.” 

“Oh.” You’d said, then blinked into the air as the words actually sunk in. “What?”

“Look, just so you know, I told Dean it was a sex curse. This isn’t really my thing to tell him, and it’s not technically a lie, but you are going to have to tell him or this, it will kill you-“

“It will what?” Your voice had cracked, and Dean had frowned. 

“Are you-“

You’d given Dean a thumbs up, lowering your voice to a hushed, nervous whisper. “Sam, please just say it, I don’t know what going on and I’m so tired and it hurts-“

“It’s-“ Sam had sighed, his voice far too fucking gentle. “The thing you’ve been starved off and craved the most, you need to have it, or you’ll die.”

 You’d shaken your head, falling flat onto your back. “I don’t know what I-“

“Yeah, you do.” Sam had said, and now you understood the sympathy. The pity. The rambling and awkwardness.

Because Sam knew. You’d gotten really drunk and cried about the thing to him a year ago. He rarely mentioned it, but he knew.

And this wasn’t going to get better. Not until you made it better. 

Until Dean made it better. 

So you were fucked. 

“What do I do?” You’d whispered into the phone, closing your eyes to pretend Dean wasn’t only a few feet away. “This isn’t going to- There’s nothing that will- Sam, what do I do-“

You’d started to cry, Dean had moved to hold you in a flash—taking the phone and muttering to Sam that he’d deal with it before hanging up—and after your breathing had steady back to a ragged rhythm, you’d gotten a text from Sam.

Tell him.

You’d stared at the screen, ready to throw it across the room or smash it to pieces so you could just die in peace, and another message had come through. 

Please.

And now you’re here. And Dean’s still being a good person, and you can’t do this.

He thinks it’s a sex curse. Sam had apparently said that you needed intimate connection, Dean had taken that to mean sex curse, and Sam hadn’t correct him. In Dean’s defense, it really does seem like a sex curse. You’re twisting and grinding and moaning on the bed, your skin long bare because clothing stuck to your skin and felt acidic on your body, and you’re pretty sure he can smell your arousal, but you don’t crave sex.

Dean offers you plenty of it. You haven’t wanted for sex in almost three years. 

What you want is going to be impossible to have. Because Dean Winchester doesn’t do love. 

And he still won’t stop being a good person.

He tells you it’s okay to rub one out. He cares so much that you’re comfortable. He keeps putting water on the bedside table so you don’t pass out again, and he coaxes you out of bed for food with slow, firm words.

“You need to eat.” He mutters, reaching for your body but flinching back at the last second. You have to bite down a whine. “You look like shit, sweetheart, and until you let someone help you, we’re going to need to keep your energy up.”

You shake your head, burying your face in a pillow and bunching the blankets between your legs, managing to relieve enough pressure to speak. “I don’t wanna.”

“Don’t wanna-“

“Move.” You mumble, rubbing your thighs together. “It hurts-“

Dean says your name, his voice low and rough and not at all helpful. “I’ve told you I’m okay dealing with this-“

“No.”

“Why the hell not? It’s nothing I haven’t done before, and you know we’re good together-“

Your gaze goes a little blurry, and you almost pass out again. He can’t keep saying shit like that. 

“Dean, I-“ You roll onto your back to glare at him, and it’s a mistake. He looks concerned. And handsome. And a little flushed as he watches you hug your chest and fuck the mattress. 

You can’t look him in the eyes. 

You can’t really do anything at all.

“Please just drop it.” You curl further into yourself, praying he’s started to stare at the floor again. “Please.” 

Dean lets out a long breath, but he does. He drops it, on the condition that you eat. And when you do, he keeps trying to talk to you, and you’re too exhausted to tell him to shut up.

“What’d you mean, when you told Sammy you snoop?” He asks, and it takes three steady breaths to answer him.

“Sometimes you guys go out, I stay behind, and I get… bored.” 

“Bored?”

You nod, fidgeting with your fingers and trying not to hump your chair. “I go around and find where you’re hiding things.”

“Like...” Dean pauses and you can hear his confused frown. He’s probably making an adorable face. You wish you could look at him and not moan. “Hair gel and razors?”

“And romance books. And a secret laptop for personal use.” You drop your brow to fully rest on the table, raising your voice. “And a Taylor Swift cassette tape, and a very soft blanket, and three emergency pies-“

“Alright, alright I get it.” Dean chuckles, and the sound rolls right through your body. “You’ve really just poked in our business, huh, sweetheart?”

“You poke in mine all the time, Dean-“

“I don’t know where your secret stash of shame is-“

“And you never will,” you mumble, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I hid it where even demons wouldn’t want to go.”

Dean hums. “Sammy’s room.”

“No.”

“Your room?”

“That would be a terrible hiding spot-“

“My room?”

You’re silent for a second too long, and Dean’s tone becomes disbelieving.

“You hid it in my room?! What’d you do that for?!“

“Shut up.” 

“Nah, baby, you’re gonna have to explain that one-“

“Dean!” You snap, glaring up at him. “Shut up!”

You’re looking at him. His eyes are darkened. And you’d misread his tone. It’s awe on his face. Awe and confusion.

You fall out of your seat with a moan.

Dean catches you. 

“Fuck this,” he mutters, half dragging you back to the bed and placing you carefully on the mattress before digging through his jeans. “If you’re not going to let me help you, I’m calling Sam and he’ll- fuck- he’ll do it-“

“Dean, no-“

“Yes.” He snaps, shooting you an almost violent glare. “I don’t know what the fuck I did that you don’t want to touch me, and I’m not gonna cross that line, not for nothing, but we’re still fixing this. You don’t want me, you get Sam. You don’t want Sam, I’m calling Cas. You don’t want him, you better start brainstorming, sweetheart, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to just fucking sit here and watch you die-“

You’re going to start crying again. It’s all too much. He sounds angry and your cursed and addled brain can’t handle it. You’re burning up from the inside. You’re breathing and it doesn’t feel like oxygen because Dean’s mad and you can’t do anything-

“Please don’t call them.” You mumble, pulling your knees up to your chest. “They won’t be able to help.”

Dean shakes his head, his focused, furious determination not breaking. “Then what the hell will help?! Because you’re going to have sex! You’re not allowed to clock out on me,” he shouts your name, and now he just sounds pained, and it’s worse. “I don’t- I’m not- If I can’t be the cure for this we’re finding someone who can-“

“It won’t work-“

“Yes, it will! Sam said you needed to fuck, you’re-“

“That’s not what Sam said.”

There’s a long pause as Dean blinks at you, and then-

“What are you talking about.”

“He said I needed an intimate connection.”

“Yeah, sex-“

“No-“

“It’s a fucking sex curse, baby-“

“Stop saying that!” You scream, and the room seems to be spinning a little bit. “Stop calling me baby! It’s not fair, and I- I can’t- You’re making it worse, Dean! Just stop being so fucking nice!”

The silence is going to suffocate you. It’s like oil and gasoline leaking into your lungs and surrounding your body, and you’re going to drown in what feels like nothing at all as Dean’s just silent-

Dean says your name, his every word slow and measured. “What kind of curse is it.”

“Dean-“

“You said it’s not a sex curse.” He snaps. “So what the hell is it.”

You swallow, and you’re too far gone now to push back. “Famine curse.” You whisper. “I- I need something that I’ve been starved off. And craved.”

You can hear his frown. “But we fuck all the time-“

“We do.” You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your palm over your pussy. It doesn’t really help. “It’s not just about the sex. It’s- I need more.”

“More…” Dean trails off, and you’re defiantly crying now. “More intimacy? Would we like, need to cuddle or something-“

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “More than cuddling. It’s- You’d have to- I-“

Dean says your name in a low warning, and you might break that hand between your thighs. ‘What-“

“You’d have to mean it. You’d have to, um, fuck me and-“

“And mean it? I always mean it-“

“You have to love me!” You almost scream, your mouth moving faster than any sense of self-preservation or will, and you’ve fucked it.

You’d said the thing. You weren’t even supposed to think it. You’d trained yourself to keep it only a ravenous, deep and insatiable feeling inside your body that picked up and rioted when Dean was around you and grew bitter and heavy when he wasn’t.

But you’d said it. 

And he’s not gone. He didn’t fly out the door or scramble off the bed with wide eyes. He’s not reminding you in gentle but firm words that that is not what you two are supposed to be. 

But what he does is worse. He leans over your body to look at you, takes your face between his hands and scans over your slack, open features, and says your name.

You pass out again.

It’s not hard, waking up. This time it’s simple and slow, a comfortable weight draped around your shoulders a sense of ease filling your whole body. 

There’s a strong arm wrapped around your stomach, and a warm thumb rubbing small circles on the bare skin of your waist, and nothing is aching or painful at all.

Oh.

Oh, no. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice is low in your ear, and you almost moan again. He’s not naked behind you, but he’s changed into sweats, and his shirt is gone. You can’t stop the frantic grind of your ass back into him, or the desperate sound that leaves you when Dean’s grip tightens, stopping any further attempt to move on him.

“Please,” you whisper, squirming against him, because if you’re going to die from something as dumb and pathetic as this, you might as well go out with Dean buried inside you. “Dean-“

“None of that right now.” He mutters, completely pinning you against his chest. “Not yet. We gotta talk first.”

“Dean-“

“You want me.” 

“Yeah.” You mumble, and Dean hums, his voice slightly hoarse.

“You love me?”

“I love you.” You can’t stop the words, and he’s still not gone.

His hand starting to drift lower. And when he speaks, and his voice is almost a growl, and you’re going to implode or explode or something. Burst into flames somehow, because that’s his I’m going to fuck you so good, baby, voice.

“You need me to mean it?” He mutters in your ear, and you nod weakly.

“Yeah, Dean, but you don’t have to-“ 

Dean grabs your chin and angles your head back, slamming his lips into yours with a bruising but careful force, and you don’t explode. You melt. Molding against his body and going slack in his arms, leaning your head back to try and devour the taste of him. Cheap coffee and mint and that purely Dean thing that’s always been like a drug. Always hooked you and dragged you right into him. 

This won’t be different. It might end in your heart literally breaking, but you’ll still be chasing him until your legs give out. If he catches you, he catches you. If he doesn’t-

There are worse deaths that this.

“Sit back, sweetheart.” Dean murmurs against your skin, dragging his thumb over your lower lip. “I’m going to mean it so hard you’ll see stars.”

“Dean, I- It’s more than that-“ 

He cuts you off with another kiss. He needs to stop doing that, because now he’s being soft and sweet, running his tongue over your teeth and letting you melt all the way into his touch without thought. Teasing you with a deep hum that you can feel in his chest behind you, making your eyes flutter close as you let yourself get lost in him. How good he is, how he good tastes, how good his hands feel as they start palm at your tits-

You gasp as he pinches and rolls a nipple between his fingers, and you’re already so overstimulated from nothing at all that it’s like being slammed with a freight train. A good freight train. A freight train that’s made of Dean’s mouth starting to wander down your neck, and his thumb rubbing soothing circles around the peak of your breast.

“I know, baby.” Dean keeps speaking against you, and it only stokes the borderline maddening need for him in your body.  “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. You’re drowning in this almost primal need for him, and he still hasn’t said the thing that would save you, but he’s got you. 

And you’d trust him. With everything you have, you trust Dean. Every single shadowed and scarred and mauled part of you has long known that, even when you have nowhere and no one, you have Dean. Not the way you want, but at your side in the day and above you in the dark. He can be a protector and a secret. You really could’ve lived with both, if it wasn’t for this stupid fucking curse. 

But Dean says he’s got you, and you can’t think of anything to do but believe him. Especially because this isn’t the dark. There are lamps on, and he can see you. All of you, naked in his arms, and making lewd sounds as his knee shoves between your legs and his mouth starts to suck small marks on your neck.

He’s never done that before. Dean’s only marked you between your thighs and on your breasts. You think he’d liked that only he would be the one to see them. He’d been possessive every time he’d put laid them there, muttering low praise and gripping you tight enough to bruise your hips, tracing rough fingers over the dark spots with a gleam in his eyes you’d never allowed yourself to read into.

He’s being possessive now, too. Every time he moves to a different spot on your neck, he kisses the mark he’d just left, and he’s trapping you against his knee with an arm over your stomach, growling as you grind against him and throw your head back on his shoulder.

“Dean,” you gasp, your nails digging into his skin as he flicks your nipple. “God, please, I- I need- Need it-“

“’S alright, pretty girl.” He mutters, and your hips jerk against him. “Just let go, I’m here-“

You scream as you cum, and Dean grabs your chin, keeping your head against him as he swallows the sound with a groan.

“There’s one.” Dean smiles against your lips, and your wiggle against him as he rubs his knee back and forth on your cunt. “Good work, baby.”

For a second, everything is okay again. Dean’s kisses wander over your jaw, he’s still holding you, and the bliss in your body is only a clear, dazed light in your head and gentle warmth in your gut. 

But then the light becomes blinding and searing in your skull, and the warmth becomes fire. Leaving blisters on your organs and making your skin spiked and wired and burnt-

You barely have a moment to shriek before Dean’s kissing you again, and it dulls everything but the pleasure. Just Dean’s tongue pressing onto yours, his hands gripping you by your hips and rolling you onto your back, his body covering yours entirely as he pulls away with a wide, almost boyish grin to look at you.

You’re a mess. You must be a mess. You’re wet in every possible sense of the word—arousal leaking between your thighs you know he’d been able to feel on his knee, sweat pressing your hair to your brow and staining the sheets below you—and you’re flushed and panting and a little fucking dizzy as you hang on the edge of. This isn’t how you’d want Dean to see you. Not like this, not for the first and last time, not when your breathing is ragged and you’re already wrecked and he looks like a god-

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, shaking his head like he almost can’t believe. “Shit, baby, you’re gorgeous.”

You whine, because it’s all your mouth can manage to figure out how to do, and if you’re hot Dean’s volcanic. His nostrils are flaring as he scans over you, his skin looking like it fucking glows and his body carved from your deepest desires, and his cock is big and proud and poking on your thigh, and his eyes-

There’s a gleam in them. The possessive gleam you’ve never seen in full light. It’s intoxicating, and aimed at your soul like the barrel of a gun. 

Dean starts to move again, and all you can do is let him work. Let him leave those same marking kisses down your chest—between and across your breasts, briefly sucking each nipple between his lips and flicking it with his tongue before moving on—and over your stomach, trailing feather-light touches over your torso and arms and waist, driving you out of your mind as you focus on breathing. Just breathing as your body starts to roll and rush with pleasure, and your head just spins around Dean. Everything smells like him, and you can hear him groaning against your skin, and you can feel him everywhere.

He’s reached your abdomen. And when his mouth finally drops lower, all he does is press one, soft kiss right over your clit before drawing back. Letting two broad fingers run over and between your pussy lips, spreading your folds wide for him to see and pressing his thumb right over your cunt without breaching inside.

“So fucking wet,” Dean says your name, and you really wish you could see his face right now. See if he looks as awestruck as he sounds.

You make a strangled sound that’s supposed to be his name, and he chuckles.

“Jesus, babygirl, you’re fucking soaked. Bet this pussy is ready for a proper fucking.” He presses his thumb slightly down, and if you had the energy to spring off the bed, you would. “But I think you’re going to need to hold it for a second. Let me get you nice and ready to take this cock.”

Your fingers curl in the bedsheet as you try to figure out how to scream at him to just take you, to stop being so fucking good and just fuck you, but you can’t. All you can do is listen to Dean’s deep, lustful drawl and hope you look half as pretty as he pretends you are.

Dean drags your hands from the sheets to tangle in his hair, and all you get is a small squeeze of your thighs before he’s shoving them fully apart and burying his face in your cunt.

It’s unfair, how good Dean is at this. He can’t be handsome and funny and able to ruin you with just his mouth, but he is. He knows exactly how to touch and taunt and toy with you, how to play with your pussy until you’re higher than fucking heaven. He tongue-fucks your cunt with an almost brutal fervor, and his strong nose rubs back and forth of your clit, and fuck, his hands are teasing at your thighs and keeping your legs split open for him to devour you. 

You’ve never made these sounds before, and it’s spurring him on. Dean starts to circle your clit with his tongue, licking and sucking and rolling until you’re in a frenzy, and his stubble is perfectly soft and rough on your skin, and his teeth are grazing you ever so slightly-

You don’t scream this time. You moan and choke on air as you cum, and a flood of warmth rushed through your dripping cunt as you tug at Dean’s hair. 

He rises up, wiping his face of something shiny and wet that you might have put there, and grins at you with bright, sparkling eyes. 

“I didn’t know you could squirt.” He examines his fingers, looking back to you with a wide grin “We’re gonna have to figure out how to make you do it again, though, because that was fucking hot.”

You didn’t know you could squirt either. And you’d linger on how you might not have an again, but this relief is lasting longer, and Dean decides it’s a good idea to lick his fingers clean. 

You’d had just enough strength to push up on your palms. You almost collapse back down at the sight, the ache starting to reignite between your legs. 

But it’s not enough to hurt, though. This orgasm seems to be cresting, tiding you over for a little until the curse regains its hold on your body, and you plan to take full advantage of that. Dean’s still hard. And massive. And fucking throbbing.

You need him. Now.

When you move to your knees, crawling forward on the bed, Dean’s eyes widen.

“Shit, wait, sweetheart-“

You surge up when you meet him, crashing your lips to his and hanging off his body as he holds you upright. Thank god, he lets you have this. Dean groans into your mouth and ruts into your thigh, tugging on your hair to grant himself further access to your lips and throat. 

You lower yourself to your knees and take Dean’s cock in your hands, slowly pumping him as he keeps a hand in your hair, shaking his head slightly.

“Baby, you don’t have to-“

“I do.” You whisper. You have to. Not for the curse, but for you. He needs to feel good too. You have to taste him, feel him heavy on your tongue and hear him groan when you touch him-

“I-“ He lets out a low groan as you run your thumb over his already weeping slit, and God, he’s so handsome. “Are you feeling-“

“I’m good. I promise.” You stroke him one last time before leaning back, rising your arms over your head as you hold his gaze. “Please.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters your name, rubbing his jaw. “You’re- shit, okay.”

You smile at him as he moves to straddle your chest, bracing one hand on the headboard and the other in your head. 

“Don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, baby.” He mutters, pressing his dick on your lower lip and grunting when you part for him. “So fuckin’ pretty. Gonna fuck your mouth until you scream, sweetheart, so you need to-“

You grip Dean’s thighs, fully opening your mouth in a silent invitation, and his eyes flash, his hand tightening in your hair.

It’s all the warning you get before Dean shoves his cock between your lips and starts to rut into your mouth. He’s bumping the back of your throat and groaning your name above you, and he looks divine and tastes like salt and earth and Dean. 

“God, you feel so good,” his words are fully slurring, low and almost a growl as you hollow your cheeks. “Shit, babygirl, you’re a fucking sin, look so beautiful suckin’ my cock, so fuckin’ good-“

He’s so fucking good. Dean’s head thrown back and his eyes hooded and trapped on yours, his biceps flexing as he leans forward and angles your head, and the ache is starting bubble over again so you drift a hand between your legs, and every time his hips jerk you whine and swallow around him-

“Fuck-“ Dean hisses, and he pulls away from you with a pop and groan, grabbing your wrist and pinning it back above your head. “Can’t do that yet, I told you we need to hold on-“

“Please,” you whisper, the pain starting to become overwhelming again. It’s worse this time. You feel like you’re being flayed alive every second Dean’s skin isn’t pressed to yours, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on for. “Dean, I need you, please.” You almost sob, and his jaw clenches. “I’m sorry, I just, it hurts-“

This is the softest kiss so far. Just a press of his lips on yours, the type of kiss you’d give a real lover, just to assure them you’re there. That you’ve got them and you’re never letting go.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. I’m gonna take care of you.” Dean scans over you, his voice so painfully gentle. “How do you-“

“However you want.” Your voice is barely a breath, and you spread your legs as wide as you can, praying he’ll just take what he wants.

But he’s a good person. So he doesn’t. Dean presses one last kiss to your brow, rolls you above him, and guides you down onto his cock. 

You make a loud, shameless sound of relief as he bottoms out. You’re in a daze of pure Dean—filling you up and pressing deep inside of you and so good—and when you start to rock your hips, he lets you. Dean just watches you grind onto his dick with a dark, slightly glazed expression, grunting when you roll in a circle and holding you upright by your waist.

He lets you set the pace, lets your hands wander over every scar on his chest and your body writhe above him.

“Dean-“ You gasp, falling forwards to kiss him deep and desperate into the pillows. “I- you’re- God-“

He sucks on your upper lip, his voice only a growl that rumbles right into your cunt. “Say it again.”

“Dean-“

“No.” His hips jerk up, his grip tightening slightly. “Say the thing.”

“I love you,” you moan, and this time there’s no panic. He already knows. And whatever he asks of you, you’ll offer. Anything to stay here. Stuffed with Dean’s cock, a little high on how he’s watching you like you’re the first sunrise. “I love you, Dean, you’re- fuck, you’re so good-“

The sound that leaves Dean is feral, and he flips you over without effort. Pulling out briefly to reposition you beneath him, slapping the head of his cock on your clit, and shoving back into you with a groan and deep, rough kiss. 

His pace doesn’t change from what you’d set. It’s almost in perfect time, rolling his hips to press against the deepest part of you and kissing all over your face as he drags you right back up to the edge. 

“Look at you, baby. Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ good,” he grunts in your ear, his skin slapping against yours. “So pretty, such a tight, sweet pussy, so good, all mine-“

You moan, squeezing around him, and Dean groans, speeding up just enough to slam against at gooey, needy spot inside of you.

“There we go, sweetheart, gimme one more-“

You shake your head, clinging to his shoulders as he starts to rub furious circles on your clit. “Dean- I can’t-“

“You can. I know you can, baby, you gotta cum-“

“Dean-“

“C’mon!” He growls your name, and he sounds almost desperate. “I’ve gotcha, baby, I’m here, you just gotta cum for me, fuckin’ cum-“

You think you scream his name. You’re not really sure. Pleasure numbs your every other sense as your orgasm hits, and all you can hear is your blood pounding in your ears and Dean’s voice, right next to your ear.

“I love you,” he says your name, and you really wish the world wasn’t just light and hazy warmth right now. “So much, and I- fuck- I need you. Please.”

The next few moments are utter oblivion. You can’t tell if you’re cured or not, because all you can smell and feel is Dean and warmth leaking between your thighs, but all you can hear are Dean’s words bouncing around your head, and all you can see is white.

He loves you. 

He needs you.

And when you come back down, your vision clearing and every bit of pain evaporating into the air, you feel good.

Dean’s no longer above you. He’s moved you into his lap, and he’s holding you to his chest as if you’re a stuffed animal. Your face his pressed into his neck, and his voice is low enough you can’t make out exactly what he’s saying, but it sounds like he’s praying. 

You wait a second as your mind returns to your body, and he’s not praying. He’s mostly just saying your name, over and over again, but his tone is heavy and rough, and it sounds like a prayer.

“Dean,” you whisper, pushing slightly off of his chest to meet his wide eyes. “I-“

He kisses you. But this isn’t one of the soft, reassuring kisses, or the heady, lustful ones. It’s long and deep and careful, and it feels like he’s trying to push his breath into your throat. He’s holding you like you’re fragile and—when he pulls away and presses his brow to yours—looking at you like just his gaze might turn you to mist in his hands.

“Did it work?” His voice is strained, his fingers digging slightly into your skin like he’s trying to tether you together, or drag you into his body. “Are we good?”

You nod, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth because you can’t help yourself. “We’re good.”

“Thank fuck.” He lets out a long breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “Son of a bitch, I had the three orgasms down, but Sam said you I’d have to say it during climax, and he didn’t say if it would be mine or yours so I had to take the gamble-“

“Sam said?!” You lean away from him, gaping slightly. “When did you ask Sam-“

“After you said you love me, then passed out.” Dean gives you a flat look. “You weren’t going to be helpful, sweetheart, and I needed to know how to fix this.”

“You-“ You swallow, flushing as you force yourself to hold his gaze. “Did you- Did you know you could fix it? After I told you how?”

Dean nostrils flare, and he nods. “Yeah.”

“And did you mean it?”

A small smile plays on his lips. “Curse wouldn’t have worked if I didn’t, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, whacking his arm. “Shut up, I’ve had a long day-“

“You’ve had a long day?” Dean raises his brows, his grin becoming shit eating. “The girl I love almost just died because she would just let me fuck her-“

“Well how was I supposed to know you loved me! You’d never said it-“

“Neither had you-“

“Yeah, but- you-“ You scowl at him, even as you drop your brow back to his. “You never fucked me with the lights on.”

“You never asked me to fuck you with the lights on.” Dean lets out a long breath, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I thought you just didn’t want me to.”

“Oh.” You sigh. “Well, fuck.”

Dean chuckles in agreement, nodding. “Also, did you tell Sam and not me-“

“By accident-“ You pause, your eyes widening on Deans. “Wait, he didn’t know that you-“

“He was the only person that knew. The little bitch.” Dean grumbles, and you giggle, kissing him on the cheek and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Sam is not little.”

“He’s gonna be little when I’m done with him. Letting me think you didn’t love me when he fucking knew-“

“I did tell him not to say anything.” You offer. “There were threats of stabbing.”

“He shoulda risked it.” Dean snaps, and you just hum against his skin. 

You could get used to this. 

You really need to make sure it’s real, and that the oblivion wasn’t actually death, and you’re not just in heaven right now. You probably wouldn’t actually make it to heaven, but it could also just be a really creative hell, so you have to check.

“Dean?”

He grunts, tracing pattern on your hips, and you let out a slow breath.

“How long have you… loved me?”

“I-“ He sighs, not quite meeting your eyes. “A while.”

“How long is-“

“Long enough that I don’t remember.”

“Oh.” You mumble, and he lets out a dry chuckle.

“How about you?”

“Forever.” You whisper, scanning over his face to figure out if you can find what you’d somehow missed before. 

And there it is. In the light, it’s easy to see. Clear, soft and solid love written on Dean’s every feature, all of it designed for you. It’s not really in his eyes or the curve of his lip, or how he’s holding you or shifting to keep you comfortable above him. It’s all of it together, spelling out so obviously that Dean loves you.

You wonder if he can see something similar on you. If that’s why his eyes flash and his lips part, his hands stilling on your body and his voice growing rough.

“Are we- Is this it?”

“This-“

“Us.” He mutters, and you’ve never seen him nervous before. Bowing his head as he blushes, leaning a little closer to your body like he could move into you forever. “Together.”

“I-“ Your fingers trace over a scar on his abdomen, and you take a long breath. “Do you want to do this? Us?”

“More than anything.”

“Oh.” You swallow, and Dean looks up at you with an almost panicked expression.

“Do you- I get it if you don’t, Sammy and I don’t have a great track record, but I fucking swear, baby, I’d-“

It’s your turn to cut him off with a kiss. And when you pull back he looks a little dazed, and you smile.

“I want you, Dean. More than anything.”

Dean drags you into a deeper longer kiss, he really is the best person you’ve ever known. 

A worse person wouldn’t hold you like this. A worse person wouldn’t say they love you and make sure you feel it in your bones. A worse person could never smile like Dean does—wide and toothy and bright—or light up your whole world with just his presence and voice.

“You and me, baby?”

“Okay.” You smile back, and he’s so good. “You and me.”

“Awesome.”

End Note: Is it even porn if it isn't emotional??? Am I even me if I don't make it emotional??

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[minghaoes]

opposites attract | ot13 headcanons

pairing: ot13 x gn!reader (individual headcanons)

request: what if the reader and seventeen members have the opposite kind of personality. like yk jun is such a tsundere sometimes, but his gf is always clingy too him. lol. like that.

wc: 1k | tags: headcanons!, mention of "princess treatment" in cheols but in a gn way, just some thoughts i had, nothing too specific to mention here ??, maybe a bit stereotypical but oh well

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i decided to turn this into headcanons instead of a smau because i wasn't sure how to do this differently :") i hope you like it !!

join my taglist here ! !

knight in shining armor ↔ royalty - seungcheol, joshua, vernon, chan

these four like to take care of their partners, all in one way or another. cheol is protective, joshua and chan are gentle, and vernon is casual. they all have a very caring and nurturing nature and therefore, all three of them simply love taking care of and spoiling their partners. the "opposite" of this would be them dating someone who likes to be pampered. someone who's maybe the youngest in their family, someone who loves (and to a certain extent expects/craves) a princess treatment. seungcheol would do it in a "typical" way. think opening jars, doing all the heavy work around the house, simply taking up upon chores that would be physically demanding. joshua, on the other hand, would do it in a gentleman way. he'd open the doors for his partner, prepare a lunchbox to take with them to work, and just make sure that their day-to-day life is as easy as possible. similar, chan would do all of this without being asked, too. he'd even keep chapstick or lotion on his person just so he'd be able to offer it to his partner whenever they need something. in addition, he probably likes to carry some sweets around too, just in case they might need a little pick-me-up, too. lastly, vernon would be similar to both, but in a more casual way. he likes to do small things whenever he knows he is needed, but overall, he waits for his partner to ask him. he likes knowing that his partner turns to him when they need help and he's always more than ready to do it. acts of service is very big for all three of them, so the opposite of this would be someone whose love language is exactly that.

silly ↔ mature - jeonghan, soonyoung, seungkwan

this trio is a little childish: the "opposites attract" trope for them would be dating someone who's mature and more stern to give them a broader view on life as a whole. conversely, they would support their partner in healing their inner child. for instance, jeonhan's partner would not join him in his scheming. when he's planning pranks, his partner is by his side and only ever reminds him to reconsider some of the things he is up to. when his pranks become too big, his partner reminds him to slow down. when his pranks aren't enough, his partner enourages him to flesh his ideas out a little more. similar, soonyoung would need someone to calm him down. he's very active and i think his opposite would be someone who's very calm. what springs to mind is a partner who would playfully join him in his horanghae agenda (as stereotypical as it is), but at the same time remind him to keep it down depending on the situation they're in. think seungkwan trying to stop hoshi from horanghae-ing at unesco ... but he actually listens. lastly, seungkwan is someone who's already more mature than the other two. but i still put him into this group because he would need someone to be childish with. him being able to turn his head off and merely joke around instead of taking charge. he's a silly guy deep down and he would need someone mature to help him be more silly in return.

black cat ↔ golden retriever - junhui, wonwoo, jihoon, minghao

it's a little bit stereotypical to put the cat line and minghao into this category, but it's true. (vernon almost made the cut too). all four of them are more reserved and calm in their ways. they resemble cats in more ways than one. junhui, for instance, is slightly possessive. he likes to be with his partner every minute of the day, no matter what both of them are up to. he just wants to be in the same room as them, even if it's them doing two entirely different tasks. because of this, jun would do well with a person who has golden retriever qualities, simply someone who's clingy. he would love all the attention his partner is giving him and he would absolutely soak it up as much as possible. wonwoo and jihoon are a bit different. they are both too used to being in their own world that having a golden retriever coded partner would help them come out of their shells respectively. instead of staying in all day, their partner would encourage them to go outside, travel, explore the world, and encourage them to try things they're too hestitant to try by themselves. minghao is a different type of black cat coded: unlike the others, he doesn't need a lot of attention nor does he need someone to encourage him to explore more. instead, he would need someone who shows him that life can be fun. his ideal opposite partner would be someone who makes him laugh, someone who reminds him to not take life as serious as he might does.

golden retriever ↔ black cat - dokyeom, mingyu

opposite to the black cat line, these two are perfect for an "opposite" partner who's calmer than they are. to me, dokyeom's opposite partner is someone who can create a safe space for him. he might be loud and outgoing, but a partner who's quiet and introverted would be a welcome change. they would be someone who's his safe haven; someone who offers him an environment that helps him wind down after a long day. similar, mingyu's black cat partner would be someone who offers him a stability. he craves affection and - if you've ever been around a clingy cat, you'd know - a black cat partner would be perfect for this. they would be clingy in a way that matches his, only a lot more casual way. when he comes home after a long day, he'd be able to fall into his partners arms no questions asked . and wind down the same way dokyeom does. a black cat partner could reciprocate their clinginess without it being overbearing - to cancel each other's feelings of the day out.

taglist: @enchantedlaufeyson @theidontknowmehn @jihoonsbbygirl @christinewithluv @choco-scoups

© minghaoes 2025.

[actuallysaiyan]

A Good Night's Sleep(Aizawa Shota x Fem!Reader)

warnings: somnophilia, pet names, wet dreams, unprotected sex, smut, kissing word count: 1.2k pairings: Aizawa Shota x Fem!Reader summary: Shota is tired, so you two take a nap. you're awoken by your own wet dreams leaving you so needy... a/n: here's my first and CERTAINLY not my last Aizawa smut ;) banners by @adornedwithlight

Finding time to be intimate could be difficult considering the lives you decided to lead. Even for him to admit that he even needed to be intimate could be so challenging at times. You knew that Shota loves you, but the way he liked to show it would make most people wonder if they were even in a relationship.

The man rarely even gave you the time of day whenever you could find a moment alone together. You wondered if sometimes he still liked to act mysterious with you, even if it was just to keep things interesting between the two of you. He must just be trying to keep you guessing.

And considering everything going on lately, you wondered if he was even getting enough sleep. You always worried about that aspect of him. It just was part of you that you could never shake, even if you had known him for so long. 

So the moment you two finally have some time alone, you’re not surprised at all to find that Shota wants to nap. He looks even more tired than you’re used to, so you don’t say no. The look in his eyes is one that seems to be almost pleading with you to get into the bed with him.

With the curtains pulled back, the lights down low and you’re both in bed, it’s the perfect recipe for a good nap. Shota nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent greedily. He doesn’t even show you this much affection whenever he’s around you during the day.

He murmurs a soft word of praise and a sweet “mmm…love you.” before you can hear him snoring slightly. You rest against him, closing your eyes and falling asleep.

Your dreams are filled with the most lustful images. The man you’re snuggling with is now on top of you, kissing you, undressing you. His hands can’t move fast enough. His eyes, though tired, are dark and full of desire. He’s lighting this fire deep inside of you.

The more Shota kisses you, the more you find yourself getting aroused. Your thighs are sticky with your slick. His name falls from your lips in soft pants. He’s just about to spread your thighs when you are jolted awake.

The sensation of his hands is still so real on your body. Yet, Shota is sleeping right next to you. Your neediness gets the best of you, so you roll over and you wrap your arm around him to pull him closer. He doesn’t wake up; instead he lets out this soft moan.

Your hand wanders under the blankets, feeling the toned muscles of his body. He grunts softly, but still he lays sleeping. You know that just your touch is enough to make him feel things, but he’s not roused out of his sleep just yet.

Slowly, you push your hand into his baggy sweatpants. The minute you touch the tip, he’s breathing heavily through his nose. You weren’t expecting him to be hard, so you wonder if maybe he’s been having similar dreams as you just had.

You begin to stroke him, using the precum from the tip to lubricate him. Still, he’s sleeping despite all the stimulation. Chuckling to yourself quietly, you lean in to begin pressing kisses to his neck.

Suddenly, you feel him turning to look at you. There’s this dark look in his eyes. He’s not quite fully awake, but he’s conscious now. He looks at you like he’s about to devour you whole.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Shota asks.

You stammer, “I-I…was just…”

“You were just what? Touching me? You better finish the job then, trouble.”

Your eyes widen a little. He grips your wrist, making you move it to stroke him once more. The way he’s beginning to buck up into your hand lazily makes the need that started to pool between your legs become even more apparent.

“You wanted to wake me up from my nap, huh? Just for a little attention, isn’t that it?” His questions make your head spin. “I know you’ve been wanting this.”

It’s not long before you find yourself on your back, your legs spread just like in your dream. Shota pulls down your pants, exposing your bare sex to him. There’s a mischievous, almost cheeky, smirk on his face as he slips his cock between your soaked folds.

“You’re such a little problem, you know that? Can’t a man just take a nap without a problematic little girl needing her pussy filled?”

There’s a moment where his eyes are scanning you completely. You always wonder what kind of look he’s giving you. Is he trying to erase your quirk momentarily so you won’t fuss and fight back or is he just assessing how aroused you are?

You let out a strangled moan as he pushes into you. You look down at where you’re connected and your jaw drops a little as you see him completely sheathed inside of you. Then without warning, Aizawa slumps against you.

“Just lemme sleep…” his moans are a little more sleepy now. “Need sleep.”

Despite his pleas for more rest, his hips begin to move. He’s so deep inside of you like this, you can’t help but hold onto him. Your nails dig into the meat of his back as he’s pumping into you over and over. The tip of his cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot inside of you, the one that brings white hot pleasure to your core.

“Are you always this wet when we nap together?” His voice is deep and raspy, his breath hot on your neck. “I bet you are.”

You can’t even think of the words to argue back. Your brain is mush from the slow, painful pace he’s using. The only thing that can come from you are such cute whines. Aizawa has to bite his lip and take a deep breath to prevent himself from spilling inside of you too quickly. He didn’t realize just how pent up he was until just now.

The minute your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him in for that lazy, sloppy kiss, Shota knows he’s probably done for. He stills himself, allowing himself a moment to rethink everything. Then he smirks as he licks his thumb, bringing it down to your swollen nub.

“Haaaah—Shota, please…”

Your whines are heavenly, but oh so bratty. He thinks to himself that he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but the comfort of having your silky walls clenching around him as he lazily pumps into you is the most soothing thing in the world.

“You were asking for this and now you can’t take it?” He questions, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Oh you are trouble, aren’t you?”

He leans in to nip at your bottom lip before kissing you. Every move is almost calculated to tip you over the edge, despite his sleepiness. His eyes may be half-closed, but he’s keeping a very careful watch on you.

You scramble to try and grab onto him as you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Aizawa doesn’t let up, instead he keeps such a consistency that drives you crazy. With a shudder, you fall off the edge, pulling him with you.

Warm, thick ropes of cum begin to fill you up. Your arms pull him in even deeper, if possible. Your moans are so sickeningly sweet, Aizawa swears he’s cumming harder than he has in a long time. And then slowly, he’s stopping his pace.

“Now,” he murmurs as he nuzzles against your breasts. “Let me sleep, trouble.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024-- do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!