#bears in trees core

[cjkie22]

A non-exhaustive list of why you should listen to hit dirtbag boyband Bears in Trees:

their music is really amazing. you'll love it.

especially if your Spotify wrapped was on the pov: indie side of things

and even if it wasn't.

songs for every emotion

absolutely beautiful lyrics

sometimes these lyrics make sense. sometimes they don't. that's part of the fun.

songs about platonic love !!!!!

songs for the queers! the aros! the aces! the enbies! the trans community!

my dad likes them. doesn't sound like a lot, but it's an achievement.

(more underneath the break)

iain (bass/vox/lyrics) has "ginger" tattooed on the back of their head. if that isn't iconic I don't know what is.

on the note of iain, they were the first person i was aware of that used they as a pronoun, and that changed my life

they have a discord server! it's a really lovely community. i am not biased in the slightest. (discord.gg/sandbox) (https://discord.com/invite/thesandbox) (i will personally send you an invite i don't actually know what the link is)

they should DEFINITELY be on the heartstopper soundtrack

if I'm remembering correctly in the tiktok where they said they should be on the heartstopper soundtrack, they also said 3 out of 4 of them were in some way queer. seems like a good thing to me.

they opened for you me at six earlier this year. it was my first time seeing them live. and WOW.

I met some of my best friends through this band. I'm not joking; big shout out to the mojo dojo castle house, I'll never forget that weekend.

they're hilarious on the internet

you might cry at several of their songs for a million different reasons

BearBerry records

they have a tumblr blog @/bearsintreesofficial (iirc). I'm not gonna tag them but

BiT gigs are a safe space. I may have almost fainted at my last one (new cross inn, August 2023) but I've never met so many kind strangers and genuinely lovely people

merch is super comfy and really cute.

it gives stardew valley and animal crossing (trust me I'm right)

after the new cross gig (sweatiest gig in the world), despite surely being exhausted, callum (uke/keys/vox) took my bereal and i got my mini lesbian flag signed by them all

I turned out not to be a lesbian, which possibly makes it funnier, but the flag is stuck on my wall still

cryptids would LOVE their band

dash.

there's also a community minecraft server for discord members

BiT postcards !!!!

gosh and the bit stickers

they covered stick season on an Instagram live

they also do the funniest twitch streams

iain and the mountain

the raccoon email address

george (drums/production) is elite. the drum fills in doing this again? iconic. also has a specific really cool shirt I want to steal

wedding. dress. tiktok.

callum doesn't wear shoes on stage. apparently this was common knowledge but it sure surprised me at new cross.

the austrian soft drinks advert

iain make up looks

callum plays the flute. I want to say classically trained flautist but i may be wrong.

none of them have EVER bribed any members of law enforcement

their songs are very tattooable

talking of tattoos, nick (lyrics/guitar/saw him play the uke on stage once) has L + R tattooed on his forearms (iirc). absolute genius and I am stealing it when I get more of my patchwork sleeve done

iain releases solo music to under the name pet yeti. it's ethereal. callum also plays flute on one of them.

trumpet joe

the four of them never look like they are dressed for the same event

someone once edited the bears in trees wiki page to say that Ryan Ross was in their band

silly geese

that time we got singing? poetry? performance art? of THAT harry potter fanfiction

according to tiktok, iain and nick once had to sneak into their own show because they were underage

nurby

I have a video in the depths of my camera roll of them covering Mama by My Chemical Romance on a twitch stream

sonick

all of them give me gender envy at different times

their newest single (bart's bike) features banjo

patreon content

yelling it gets better with a room full of people was a healing experience.

tilly

modern baseball and fall out boy adjacent in my brain

if you like bears in trees you're automatically hot and really cool

they did a song with noahfinnce and its really super good

callum also featured on a myriad song which is also really super good

bit songs feel like coming home. they feel like hot chocolate and a blanket on a cold night. they feel like a warm hug. they feel like surviving and falling in love with life again and overcoming the worst things. they feel like victory, because you didn't think you'd make it to adulthood. but I'm 20 now. and I'm still here. I've almost graduated uni. and that's what bears in trees feels like.

all of their songs!!!! amazing!!!!

please feel free to add to this list. I'm taking suggestions.

#bears in trees #dirtbag boyband #music #bit #bearsintrees #bears in trees core #LISTEN TO THEM #i'm begging you #i love my friends #they make me feel alive again #indie #pov: indie #i'm alive #and thats wonderful

[twinksintrees]

bears in trees core

#idk i found these on pinerest and they made me think of bit #bears in trees #bears in trees core #dirtbag boyband

[sad-sad-gay]

shout out to my shelf of stuff for friends.

#i fucking love making stuff for my friends #or just making stuff and keeping a hold if it because one day someone might want it and i could make them happy #or finding something that reminds you of someone and putting it to the side so you can give it to them #i love my friends and i love making stuf #bears in trees core #bitcore #i love my friends #making things #for my friends

[earlefromunder]

More than a body in my cemetery

#artists on tumblr #stuffed toy #stuffed animals #cemetery #soft core #death core #teddy bear #stuffed bunny #mickey mouse #tree bark #graveyard

[tree-creature]

Don't cry at the release of bears in trees new music challenge: impossible

I'm not ready for how to build an ocean: instructions, a lot of it feels directly written for my very being. It comes out on my birthday and imma be a whole new creature upon hearing it.

#bears in trees #how to build an ocean: instructions #ive got a sun machine in my pocket #aesb #BiT #stop cutting to the core of my being i cant take it

[honey-locust-aesthetics]

Click for better quality.

#aesthetic #art #dark art #my stuff #original art #scopophobia #hello kitty #sanrio #gloomy #gloomy bear #thinking #get out #monster #my melody #trees #nature #cant stop thinking about it #weird core #horror

[everyday-aesthetic101]

#love songs #bears in trees #heaven sent is a coffee cup #good mood songs #aesthetics #academia core #light academia #Spotify

[ioniiaa]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 7)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Quick Notes:

You, the reader who is an artist, and had become Alastor's sweetheart, have just died.

Alastor is about to find out.

Part 7:

The sound of a singular gunshot rang clearly in the night that had been so peacefully quiet up until that moment in time.

Alastor, with the engagement ring in his pocket, who had been peacefully reading a novel within the confines of your shared home, nearly ripped his book in half upon hearing the sound of a gunshot in these woods.

The forest around here was part of his private property, anyone who dared to trespass or hunt in his neck of the woods was shot on sight. Many people ignored the plentiful and very obvious warning signs, so it wasn't his fault so many people ended up becoming your and his meals. Everyone else just thought the law didn't apply to them, straight-up criminals. In his eyes, they all deserved it.

Thinking it was just another nuisance, a "tsk" left Alastor's mouth as he grabbed his shotgun and headed into the woods.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally caught sight of the transgressors. Two men that he, unfortunately, recognized right away as the men from the bar who liked to push his buttons by harassing you.

The seething rage pooled in his core, bubbling up into his chest. This was his chance to get rid of those nuisances once and for all.

They would trouble his darling no more.

For him to get into a better position to take the men out, he crouched down and quietly circled around them like a hunter playing with his prey.

After circling around to position himself behind the men, what he wasn't expecting to see was the most nightmarish sight he's ever seen.

His beloved sweetheart, soon to be betrothed, all disheveled and tied up against a blood-splattered tree with a bullet lodged in the middle of their forehead.

Your eyes were lifeless. There was no doubt about it, the love of his life was dead.

Alastor didn't need to even think before pulling the trigger on the men, shooting one after the other, over and over, even after their bodies had hit the ground.

He. Was. Enraged.

By the time Alastor was done with them, they looked like Swiss cheese, barely strung together.

Alastor's breath was heavy, his chest heaving, near hyperventilating, his eyes were enlarged and his mind was focused on one thing. You.

His beautiful love, he couldn't bear to see you in this state.

In his oddly manic and shocked state, he untied you from the tree and took your body back to your shared home in the woods not too far from here.

For a few moments, his rage was replaced by sorrow and mourning as he buried you in the backyard. As fucked up as he was in the head sometimes, he would rather die than think about eating you. You were sacred to him.

As he laid you down into the ground, he embraced you once last time and took the ring out of his pocket. He placed the ring onto your ring finger and kissed the top of your hand, "In life and in death, I am forever yours, as you are forever mine. I love you, dear."

After you were buried, the rage returned like a vicious tsunami. Oh he wasn't done with revenge just yet.

Every single man or woman that ever mistreated you or offended you, was put on his list.

This night was the catalyst that gave birth to the serial killer known as the "Bayou Killer".

Alastor stopped visiting Mimzy's bar since your death, with his sole focus and dedication in life going to hunting down those that had harmed you in life. After all, they deserved it, you were like an angel to him.

But what Alastor didn't stop doing, was broadcasting his radio show. So many of his connections were made because of his show, so it was a valuable resource to keep active, to use to his advantage.

Alastor continued living his life like this until every single name was crossed off his list.

It was then that it was time for his luck to run out.

Right upon the killing the very last person on the list, was Alastor also shot right square in the forehead.

Before his consciousness faded into black, all he could hear was the muffled panic of a stranger who seemed to be apologizing for mistaking him for some sort of animal.

All Alastor could do was chuckle at the irony of the whole situation, the maniacal laughter was the type that only a madman could produce- before everything went dark and he died.

He thought he would never see you again, because surely, his beloved sweetheart would end up in heaven right?

The answer to this would remain a mystery for many decades to come as Alastor descended into Hell and became who is now widely known in Hell as "The Radio Demon".

-> Part 8

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #fanfic #alastor hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #alastor x y/n #hazbin x reader #alastor radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #hazbin hotel x y/n #x y/n #x reader #x you

[chknbzkt]

I COME BEARING FEDDY

And a few extras :>

And the initial sketch :D

While Chica tends to keep within the confines of her massive territory of orchards and the settlements peppering them, Freddy technically doesn’t have a permanent home of his own. Though he Does have a few caves and abandoned buildings he returns to to stock away trinkets for his hoard, he tends to move in an observable pattern across Hyde’s Crossing.

Freddy wanders Hyde’s Crossing for plenty of reasons, mostly to keep tabs on goings-on between the locals, also to make sure no big toothy things are bothering them. Recently more and more unsavory characters have been popping up from the Badlands from their primordial ooze, taking shape and turning their attention to yummy villagers. Said villagers then get paranoid and start to think Everything big and toothy wants to murder them. Including the dragons that take residence around the Crossing. Things have been rough, give them a break,,

As such, Freddy is a seeker of anomaly-related trouble and far less neutral than Chica (as she is now, at least). Sightings of these Shades near a village are a surefire sign that he’s not long to turn up himself. He’s come to expect the pitchfork waving and that whole jazz, but come on folks he wouldn’t forgive himself if he hurt someone 😩

Freddy’s tusks never stop growing, so a good sign he’s currently residing in your area are teeth marks on trees, rocks, stumps, and other hard objects.

The glowy bits are his energy core, kept fueled by eating magical stuff and things. He’s essentially a sentient nuclear reactor, only being near him doesn’t pose a risk of radiation poisoning (thank god). That said though, direct contact with the stuff is Not advised as a squishy flesh person 🙏🏽

#bzkt barf #fnaf smaugust #glamrock freddy #fnaf sb au #art #artistsontumblr #dragon au

[pandoraslxna]

⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: masturbation, praise, dirty talk, sexual tension

"Show me how humans do it. How you like it", you said, meaning to make it sound like this was for an educational purpose, but Spider had gotten this look in his eyes as he gave you a lazy grin and said, "Okay", yanking his loincloth off like being naked is the most natural thing to him. Like you’re the strange human that can’t bear a little skin and he’s the Na’vi. And then he sat down naked against a moss covered log, sprawled out like he owns the place, his dick hard against his stomach.

"Kinda like this", he begins to explain.

He doesn’t look embarrassed, you think, shifting in your seat, cross-legged with your back against a tree and still fully dressed. But somehow you’re the awkward one.

Your heart is beating too fast, your tail nervously thumping against the soft ground and this is all wrong. You shouldn’t fool around with a human, a demon, should’ve stayed curious and not ask him about the sky people’s biology which ultimately lead to questions about his dick and if it was retractable too and then somehow, eywa knows how, to you asking him to jerk off in front of you so you could watch. Your natural curiosity be dammed!

Spider shouldn’t be on display, way over there, sliding a hand down his bare stomach, over painted on stripes, to curl around the base of his cock. He shouldn’t be making you watch the way he rubs his thumb over the crown, the way his hips hitch into his fist and his face creases in a moment of pleasure.

You shift again, trying to get comfortable, and Spider smirks at you. There’s heat spreading in your core, an ache under your loincloth, and you untangle your legs to spread them, running a hand over the thin fabric between your thighs just to take the edge off. Spider watches, then gives his dick a squeeze from root to tip, arching his neck, and you can see the light gleam off a bead of pre-cum leaking from his slit. You swallow hard, dainty fingertips rubbing over the outline of your clit slowly.

"I like it slow", Spider says, huffing a little, and you’re not entirely sure if he was talking about himself or you, because his eyes are completely fixed on the way your run your fingers over your clothed cunt. "At first", he adds, then tugs at his cock, like he has a million years and you aren’t absolutely dying over here. He rolls his balls gently between his fingers with his other hand, pulls down slowly and lets a moan slip out.

You embarrass yourself a little by echoing it, but his cock seems to jump in sympathy. Then he jerks it a little faster, and you can’t help but pull your loincloth to the side, to insert two slender digits into your seeping entrance. Spider shivers at the sight.

"I like having my cock sucked", he says ever so nonchalantly, "like it when it’s messy, so—“ and then he sticks his tongue out and let’s spit fall onto his palm, before closing it around his shaft, coating it in the clear liquid. He’s rocking into the pleasure, just a little, and then works his fingers over the head of his dick, feeling it leak and pulse, and you nod. You’re listening.

"Fuck, that’s it”, Spider sighs, and he spreads his knees farther apart. His balls hang heavy and full between his thighs, and his dick -not retractable, by the way- is standing up big and hard from his fist, and your mouth is watering. You swallow again, rolling your hips up into your hand to try and get your fingers deeper inside, curling them a little higher and then you moan, loud.

"You good?", Spider chuckles, but there’s a strain in his voice, like he’s trying to sound calm and collected, but he’s not. Not by the pace he’s stroking his cock right now.

"Spider", you whimper, but you actually meant to say, this is crazy, just get over here and fuck me, but you kind of trailed off and whimpered instead. Your face is hot and you can feel sweat running down your spine, and your poor little clit is throbbing with your own heartbeat.

Spider’s hand is working faster and faster, slick with pre-cum and spit, sliding smoothly up and down his thick shaft. Every other stroke ends with a little twist of his fingers that rubs the underside of his cockhead, and he licks his lips as he stares at you, eyes open, gaze intent.

You can’t stand it any longer, the waiting, the watching, the wanting, and you can barely catch your breath.

"You’re gonna come, huh?", he chuckles, throwing his head back for a brief second, exhaling shakily, before he looks back at you again. "Yeah, and then I like– oh, fuck– I like it just fast and hard at the end, I like to, to fuck my fist, imagine it’s a pretty na‘vi girl sucking me off. Or bouncing on my cock. Fuck, you look good baby, gettin’ off on watching me."

"I’m not–", you start to say, but that’s stupid, because you totally are, and you’re so close it physically hurts to hold it back.

"Shit", he groans, his hand a blur, his face creasing in concentration, "I’m gonna come, oh fuck, I’m gonna–"

"Hmh, me t-too", you nod, rubbing your clit frantically. "Yes, fuck– ohh, fucking hell", Spider chants, fuck, fuck, fuck and then he comes.

You love the way his pink cock swells up hard and massive, the thick, sloppy spurts of cum, and the noises he makes as he kicks his hips up and shoots all over his belly, working himself through it with one hand still jacking his cock and the other clamped tightly around his own leg. His thighs work as he fucks his fist, muscles bunching, his abs rippling, and your own orgasm hits you like lightning shooting down your spine, soaking right through your loincloth, shuddering helplessly as you hump your palm, wriggling your fingers against your clit.

It takes an awful while for you to catch your breath after that, and while your gaze still seems unfocused and hazy, Spider already cocks his brow at you, proudly displaying his stamina as he gives a lazy stroke to his cum slicked and already half hard dick.

"Now that this question is out of the way", he starts, his lips parting into a sharp grin, "do you want me to show you how we humans fuck?"

#lunaskinktober2023 #spider x reader smut #spider x reader #avatar spider x reader #spider x y/n #Spider x female reader #miles socorro x reader #miles socorro #avatar spider #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

Here is a secret: Pure Vanilla Cookie had felt like he was being watched for a long, long time.

He can't quite pinpoint when exactly that started, if it was before or after he earned his Soul Jam. He thinks it must have been after, because he thinks he wrote it off as the Light of Truth's presence, but the specifics don't really matter. Either way, the feeling of eyes on him had been so constant that it faded into normalcy, and he hadn't noticed it since.

Until now.

Now, with Shadow Milk Cookie breaching the seal, and crumbling Elder Faerie Cookie, and White Lily Cookie becoming the new Guardian of the Seal, and White Lily Cookie being really and truly back in the first place and– and—

The point is that Pure Vanilla is quickly realising that a lot of his prior assumptions don't hold weight anymore. A lot of things he had believed to be unshakeable truths turned out to be wrong or, even worse... well, lies.

And these realisations aren't all bad, truly. Some are sweet with relief and the familiar scent of lilies. But his feelings on the matter aren't helped by the fact that suddenly, for the first time in years, he can feel those eyes on him again in piercing clarity, burning with a malice he had failed to notice all this time.

Pure Vanilla does his best to leave them be, focusing on the unmistakeable warmth of White Lily at his side, and the determined hearts of the children, and everything that needs to be done. It is uncomfortable, but it is manageable.

Delivering word to Crispia about the situation is no quick business, let alone waiting for word to return back. As such, they are staying in Faeriewood for the foreseeable future, waiting on a response from the Republic or the other Heroes. The Faerie Cookies are lovely and more than welcome to the notion, though that is hardly a surprise with how beloved White Lily is to them, and rightly so.

Pure Vanilla Cookie, to his credit, does his best to relax as they wait, but it is increasingly difficult as time wears on. He cannot bear to go anywhere near the Silver Tree, because the weight of that gaze increases by a tenfold whenever he is anywhere near its vicinity, almost crushing him, as if urging him to- well, it makes navigating the Faerie Kingdom difficult, if he cannot get too close to its centre.

Pure Vanilla sighs from where he is settled gingerly down among the soft pastels of the flowers, nestled carefully beneath the shade of the bending canopy of less dangerous trees. From here, he can see White Lily's radiant figure across the bridges and walkways, roped up in conversation with the Silver Tree Knights and surely discussing her new title and all that may entail. Whatever the case, he is content to have her within his sight, soothing some age-old nerves.

He busies his hands with a flower crown, the repetitive motions helping to distract from the twisting trunks of the trees lingering in the corner of his vision, their silvery bark marred with dozens of squinting eyes, black as shadows with vibrant blue—

No, no, no – but it's too late, Pure Vanilla's hands stumbling on his work and crushing a flower in his clumsiness. Regret instantly soaks into his core, and he hurriedly releases the poor bud, only feeling worse when he sees that some of its nectar and colour has stained his hands. Such delicate beauty, destroyed by his own foolishness. He certainly can't give this crown to White Lily now.

Bitterly unwanted, the thought that Shadow Milk must be laughing at him now flits across his mind, and he drops the flower crown like its petals are dripping poison, lest he ruin it any further.

In the end, no matter how much he pushes it aside, his thoughts always swing back to the same dreadful realisation. If Shadow Milk has been watching him all along - and deep down, Pure Vanilla knows it to be true, even though he hates it - then he must have seen everything. Every moment he was vulnerable, every moment he was hiding, every moment he thought was private.

It's terrifying. His mind keeps reeling at the mere idea, flicking through his lowest moments with the aching, sickening knowledge that he had seen it all. It feels unfathomably invasive, almost as much as Shadow Milk's voice burrowing into his head like it belongs there. Nothing Pure Vanilla has experienced has been solely his own, and it seems like it never was.

Pure Vanilla is saved from his own sinking thoughts by the gentle warble of birdsong, and grateful for the distraction, he looks up to find a small bird descending from the canopy. Admittedly, it is different from the blue birds he is used to, looking to be a spore variant of some sort, but he smiles at it just as cheerfully.

"Hello, chickadee. How are you today?" He greets affectionately, voice warming as he holds out a hand for the spore bird to land on. It does with a chirped greeting back, and for the briefest, most blissful moment, Pure Vanilla feels light with the simplest happiness.

And then the bird looks up at him, with not two, or four, but countless eyes opening across its entire body, inky black and mockingly blue.

Pure Vanilla startles fiercely, jolting back and shutting his eyes tightly on instinct, and the movement is more than enough to scare the bird away, but he is too occupied with fumbling for his staff in the grass beside him to pay it any mind.

Finally, his fingers find purchase, and he hastily lifts the staff upright, half-leaning against it as he looks through its eye. The pupil darts around until it lands on the bird once more, where it has fled back to a perch among the branches.

It looks normal, or as normal as a spore variant can be. It certainly doesn't have a hundred knowing eyes.

The trees don't have eyes either, for that matter.

Pure Vanilla presses his forehead against his staff, desperately tempted to keep his eyes closed forever, to rely solely on his staff so he doesn't have to risk seeing anything unreal. It's a dangerous, guilty thought, but it persists even when he gathers the strength to crack his own eyes open once more.

He blinks once, twice, hesitantly looking around.

There are no eyes. Just a spooked spore bird in the canopy, a half-crushed flower crown hanging off his lap, and White Lily in the distance, now joined by an energetic Gingerbrave and his friends.

Pure Vanilla watches for a moment, waiting. When everything remains as it is, he sighs again, heavily, wearily, and sinks back into the bed of flowers, holding his staff to his chest in a loose grip, even as he lays down.

He thinks he hears a mean giggle chime faintly in his ears, but what does he know? That's probably a lie too.

#here's a ficlet because i couldn't help myself #personally if i got told by The Worst Person I've Ever Met that they had been watching me all along #that'd be a major cause for psychological distress!! i think!! #also i am a huge supporter and believer of sm living in pv's head moving forward #but just know that the eyes in this fic?? that is all pv babyy #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #← technically. his presence is felt #cookie run kingdom #crk #the biscuit library

[the-white-void]

Oh! You've Heard This Story?

Summary: Once again, your end has begun, and the story starts anew. Yet, she remembers this story; one told over and over again.

Warning: This contains mentions of violence and repetitive deaths which may be uncomfortable to some readers.

One || two || three

Taglist: @kthehoeforfictionalmen @pix-stuff @kthehoeforfictionalmen @time-shardz @scarletttcroww @mysteriaqueen @atsukawolfcat @junkoslette @mef0rg0r @altheq0 @obliviousariies2007

Blood of gold stained the podium as the blade of the Archon of Inazuma sliced your neck. Leaving the crowds that once cheered for your end turned to fear and shallow worries of regret.

You've seen this before. As your head descended from your body, your consciousness still lingered, even for only a moment. The screams of agony laced with regret and sorrow; the cries of the archons as they saw the precious blood that was wasted on the floor.

That is how it always ended.

Your mind now eases as your death finally comes, then onto the next show.

You open your eyes once more to the lush green grass tickled your ears, and the trees swayed its leaves on your rags; the warm rays that lay on your skin. A scene all too familiar.

You have given up on trying to survive on this game of cat and mouse; simply letting it all roll like a ball, because out of all the countless times you tried to escape before were all futile, even giving up showed the same ending.

There is no end to this scripted play.

Fate is like a chord. No matter how you pull to change it, it will always return to its original form.

You pick yourself up, dust off a few leaves stuck on your rags and walked up to a nearby tree bearing some apples. You reach out for one close yet ripe.

"Maybe Amber noticed me already and might shoot my arm." You blurted out as the apple twisted and fell on your face. "Ah! It's already loose." you mumbled with your brow raised before picking up the apple from the ground; you dusted off the dirt then took a bite. "Doesn't matter, you missed." You uttered as you look to the side where the brunette wearing red hid from afar; her bow lowered from when it first had you a target.

Her face painted with worry and confusion, she focuses her bow to you once more, ready for your retaliation. Yet, you walk back to the spot where you first woke up; legs crossed with your bum on the ground as you continued to eat the apple.

"What?" The brunette mumbles with her brows furrowed, confused why you just say down defenceless while chewing on your apple till you ate it all and the core was left. "Could it be a trick? Are they just luring me in?" Thoughts flooded her head thinking about what you could be planning if you already know where she was.

After laying the core of the apple you just ate on the ground, you look back at where the brunette was hiding. "Even if you are here to catch the imposter, there is still etiquette for how knights capture fiends." You spoke with a sigh and a small smile, waiting for her to shoot her bow, or throw Baron Bunny to your face.

An arrow of fire flew past you and hit the tree right behind you, barely grazing your hair. Amber then emerges from the bushes while her bow was still pointed at you "You have the right to remain silent. Your actions of impersonating the divine deity..." She continues to mouth out paragraphs you've heard countless times before, still smiling without a care in the world.

In a nation distant to the airy breezes of Mondstat, in the land hidden in the forests where rain comes and goes, the land where knowledge is weighed more than mora, Sumeru.

Lying inside the Sanctuary of Surasthana where the Archon resides, she sprung up with a cold sweat, as if she just had a nightmare. Her gasps were heavy and her hands shaking; her dream was as vivid as if it were real, like the times she would occasionally possess the receptionist of the Adventurers Guild, however, unlike those dreams, it was not coveted by the mind of a human nor god. The scene was too real to be revered as a dream.

"Oh... Very well,I'll see you all. Soon."

Were the last words of the imposter before their head departed from their body. "What did they mean? Will it happen again? I saw their memories; it happened to them over and over again. Like a samsara, after reaching an end it'll go back to the beginning. How long have they been doing this? Do they have a goal?" Questions drowned out all their senses before a loud arrogant voice broke her focus.

A short man wearing blue accents and a large hat was snapping his fingers in front of the archon's face with an annoyed look. "Hey! I've been calling you for ages; you said you wanted me to do something." His tone filled with salt and bitterness as he pulled his arms back together crossed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, the dendro Archon, one who was calm and collected was in a cold sweat, unable to comprehend what reality she had just seen. If it were to happen in this world as well, would it too crumble and wither away.

"H- hat guy..." The dendro Archon's voice trembled when she muttered her words. Looking towards Hat Guy with her eyes widened and trembling "What happened these past few days? There was the imposter a- and..." Her voice trails off as she tries to word out what happened, but her tongue falters to convey what was on her mind.

"The imposter? That news just landed in the Akademia an hour ago. I guess that's what you can expect of a god who can read minds." He mumbles while the Archon gathers her thoughts.

"What? But the imposter was just about to be executed. Everyone was there and... the imposter was... calm... they- they said something then… then…” her eyes wonder off around the room remembering the words of the imposter.

“... Hat guy. Take me to Mondstat; I need to talk to the imposter.” Her eyes were then set on the short man; eyes painted with determination and fear, set on speaking with the one branded as an imposter, yet whose last is shrouded in a thick fog of uncertainty.

The man that looked at the Dendro god puzzled and perplexed. “What?! Are you- just when you hear about an imposter; you wanna go meet them?!! Don't you know how dangerous that thing could be?” His aloof and sour tone shifted to a raised and concerned voice after hearing the Archon's desire to met with the imposter.

Kusanali sighs with her eyes faltering, wondering if it just a ruse after all. She ponders for some time, recollecting and organising the memories she had of the imposter. “The execution just happened with the Electro Archon beheading the the imposter, but before that, the imposter allowed me to look through their memories, then…” her memory was then blank.

“Can they dream?” Hat Guy's voice cut her focus. “If you really wanna talk to them, you can go in their dream and just talk to them there.”

The idea lit up the Lesser Lord's face “Yes. Their dreams. They looked young, they probably still have dreams, like escaping… or… wait… can they dream?” Her voice questioned the mentality and consciousness of the imposter.

#astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #genshin impact #sagau idea #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin fic ideas #genshin fanfic #sagau isekai #genshin nahida #nahida #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #hat guy #amber genshin impact #genshin amber

[minnaci]

CALM AFTER THE STORM

contents: nanami kento x gn!reader, jjk s2 spoilers (shibuya incident), hurt/comfort, reader is implied to have died years before the shibuya incident, cooking together as a love language, kissing, reunions, death

what is death if not a new beginning?

or, nanami makes his journey to the afterlife. it's not so bad.

it's strange, nanami thinks. he had forgotten what it meant to move without pain, and yet here he is, dancing without a care in the world. his joints don't crack, his knees don't ache. he could have sworn he had injured his eye, and yet, here he is, witnessing the ocean in its full, unfettered glory.

pantai cenang is beautiful. idyllic. not a curse in sight. nanami takes a moment to soak it all in. fine white sand. crystal blue water. coconut trees. there's a distinct lack of people— surprising, given how popular the beach is with tourists— but nanami knows better than to question such a blessing.

there's a little cottage in the distance, one that doesn't exist on any map. in his heart, nanami knows you're inside, humming as you wash the vegetables you'd picked from the garden. it's been too long since he's seen you, held you in his arms. months. years. his heart squeezes. ah, that familiar ache— yearning. he quickens his pace.

absence makes the heart grow fonder. in his mind's eye, you twirl in the sand with him, feet nimble. he spins, more graceful than he’s ever been. he soars. he falls. fighting is dancing in the same way that the waves batter against the shore— beauty and violence, art and destruction.

nanamin! a shout echoes across the water, and nanami lowers his arms, turning on instinct to the familiar voice. even in his retirement, it seems that he can still hear the voice of his loudest student.

ah, he's exhausted— this is what he gets for indulging in the sun. he can sense your frown already. you'd always fretted over him, all soft hands and gentle touches.

the scent of blood rises on the wind, but there is no fear. even sharks need to eat. such is the way life and death dance together.

nanamin! the voice shouts again, or maybe it’s an echo of the first call, bounding across the surf. his fatigue overwhelms him like falling in love— slow, then all at once.

he is so, so tired of fighting.

faster than he can comprehend, there’s a firm pressure against his stomach. a mosquito buzzes around his face. he swats it away idly. there’s something he’s forgetting. something important.

nanamin!

ah. that’s right. he doesn’t have to worry anymore.

“itadori,” he says, voice carrying over the waves. “you’ve got it from here.”

there’s a gut-wrenching snap in his core. it severs something vital, and yet… he’s never felt more alive. he is a hollow-boned creature, like the birds. finally, the weight of the world is no longer his to bear.

your presence calls to him, draws him in from across the beach, and he turns towards your siren’s song. his lips form the shape of your name. in the blink of an eye, his hand is on the doorknob to your cottage.

"i'm home."

you whip around so fast that nanami almost fears your neck will snap clean in two. “kento?”

“it’s me.”

there’s a split second where the world freezes. the light from the late early evening sun dances amongst dust motes. your lips part, and nanami trembles with the force of his want for you.

then, like the tide to the moon, like planets to a star, you crash together. you fly across the room into nanami’s waiting arms, two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. when he kisses you, you taste like salt, like grief, like joy. it makes him want to kiss you more, kiss you harder, so he does.

you pull away, and nanami only just resists the urge to chase your lips.

"you're... so early. i didn't expect to see you here for a few more decades." you cup his face, fingers tracing over the familiar curves of his cheeks, his jaw. nanami turns his face into the affectionate touches.

"and leave you to eat dinner alone?" nanami leans in again, kissing the tears from your cheeks in a few quick, fluttering brushes of lips against skin. “i’m officially retired. where else would i want to be, if not with you?”

“you’re so romantic today.” there’s a choked quality to your voice.

oh, nanami thinks. it’s really been too long. “i’m romantic all the time for you.”

“i missed you.” apropos of nothing, the words tear from your chest, like you can’t hold them back anymore. your face crumples. heat pricks behind nanami’s eyes as you bury your face against his chest, frame trembling with the effort of holding back your tears. “i missed you so much.”

comfort has never been nanami’s forte, but with you, it’s as easy as breathing to hug you closer, to make soft, soothing sounds, to rub gentle circles over your back.

“i missed you, too,” he says, a confession. the world swims in his vision. he blinks rapidly. “more than you could ever know.”

he rocks you back and forth, back and forth, holding you as you shake apart in his arms. there’s no pressure to perform, no shareholders to impress, no curses to exorcise. only you, and your love, and your touch.

and he gets to have this forever.

nanami’s not sure how long you stay there, only that his skin still hungers for yours when you press a teary kiss to his cheek and maneuver out of his hold. you sniffle, wipe your eyes, and offer him a familiar apron with a watery smile. “here. you still remember how to cook, right, mr. salaryman sorcerer?”

“what are we making?” nanami takes the proffered apron. i’m the cook, it reads. he glances down at your apron, already knowing what it says. kiss the cook. the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“hainan chicken rice,” you say. “when in malaysia…”

“of course,” he says. “pass me the knife.”

it’s been a while since he’s handled a sharp blade. the handle sits in the palm of his hand— rough, worn smooth by years of use. a tool of the home. he finds that he likes the weight of it.

the rhythm of cooking is an intimate waltz. one, two, three. he crushes the garlic under the flat of his knife, then minces it. bits of garlic cling to his fingers, and he picks it off, shapes it into a pile. the papery peel is swept aside, to be returned to the earth.

the edge of his blade is used to peel ginger. short, quick strokes— not a motion wasted. when he’s done, the ginger’s aroma tickles his nose, as sharp as his knife. he slices it thinly and places it next to the garlic.

you heat oil in a pan as he works, humming a low melody. he hasn’t heard it in years, but it’s as warm and familiar as the bed you share. when the oil starts to sizzle, you add in his minced garlic, his sliced ginger. the scent spreads through the room, savory and safe.

you produce rice from a small rice cooker. it’s not ideal to use freshly cooked rice in fried rice dishes, but nanami has every confidence you’ll manage. while you stir in the chicken fat and bullion, he looks around for something else to set his blade to.

cucumbers, fresh from your garden outside. nanami taps one gently, a faint smile pulling at the edges of his lips at the hollow, satisfying thock. it’s quick work to peel them, revealing pale green flesh. it’s even quicker work to slice them. he loses himself in the task, in the comfort of your presence, and lets his muscle memory take over.

“are you using your technique on those poor cucumbers?” there’s a smile in your voice. nanami glances down at the cucumbers, and sure enough, they’re sliced in uneven fractions of 7/10.

the motions of violence are not so easily forgotten, but true peace lasts only in the memory of war. nanami gives you a small smile, presses a soft kiss to your temple, and resumes cutting his cucumbers— evenly, this time. even the sharpest of blades can be repurposed.

dinner is a quiet affair. two plates, two cups of tea, two settings at the table. conversation flows as easily as wine. your foot nudges against his calf— once, twice. he nudges back, delighting in the radiant smile that you can’t seem to hold back.

both of your plates sit empty upon the table. the last dregs of tea cool in your cups. cleaning up is quick, made quicker by long-established routine: he washes, you dry. on the last of the dishes, he leans into you— a silent request. you lean back— acquiescence.

he will never tire of touching you. instinct is a trembling little creature in his heart, and you are the soft hands that soothe him, letting him pull you flush against his chest. minutes drip into hours, and the sun begins its slow descent as he cradles you in his arms. somehow, you migrate to bed, and then everything is warmth and love and perfection.

these quiet delights, this tender intimacy— nanami revels in it, revels in this little life, this future you share.

“the sun is setting,” you murmur, a tender look in your eyes. you’re a vision painted in gold light, an angel in soft sheets. he could soak in you forever. “it’s almost time to go home.”

“is home as good as this?” he takes your hand, presses a kiss to the back of it.

“it’s better.” you slip out of bed, and he follows you outside. a gentle breeze ruffles his hair, brings him the scent of salt and the sea. the sun dips lower on the horizon, and yet, the light only brightens. it’s not harsh, but a gentle, beckoning warmth.

“are you ready, kento?”

“you’ll be with me?” it wouldn’t be a home without you.

“i will. i promise.” you take his hand, lean in, press a kiss to his cheek. tension drains from his shoulders like the low tide. a home with you is more than he could have ever dreamed of. “let’s go home.”

together, you walk into the light. neither of you look back.

tags: @angelshub @enchantedforest-network

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk spoilers #writemin! #+nanamin

[captainofthetidesbreath]

It's always interesting when a character thinks this way but being only interested in saving something that loves you / not particularly wanting to work to protect something that doesn't love you is such a limited way of engaging with the world. Just to sort of messily talk through with wrt Imogen in this latest episode (3.79).

To love back as a prerequisite for defending something's right to survival is self-centered. The mollusks and trees and frogs and beetles and stones do not love us (at least, in ways that most people readily interpret and parse as affection), but still we should fight to protect them.

Imogen has always been rather self-centered (as in largely concerned with her own affairs and highly prioritizing her own needs and how things relate to her specifically — however, this is not inherently bad in a character, I emphasize, and it makes her complex and interesting) in her perspective on the world, but generally speaking, from outside of that perspective, in the idea of trying to fight for the survival of something (or deciding against doing that), the consideration of whether that something loves you is misguided. Even outside consideration of the gods, not every person in the world will love you, not every animal and plant and rock and river, and that has no bearing on questions of survival and place in the world.

Imogen has a right to feeling bitter or resentful or hurt, and it absolutely makes sense she feels this way and it is not at all bad that she does, but I think there's a lack of perspective in that this is a conflict that is larger than personal feelings at an individual interpersonal basis. In fact, Ludinus is counting on everyone prioritizing their personal feelings above everything else, on not only feeling negatively but ALSO allowing those negative feelings to overwhelm their judgment.

And, it's an interesting flaw that Imogen consistently has, in that she recurrently has trouble conceptualizing that she and her feelings and her concerns and how things affect her are not always the most important concerns, especially in situations of scale. She lives very much in her own head, so to speak, and she has trouble looking outside of her own point of view.

But, it sparks some core questions about that. Why do they need to love you specifically for you to consider protecting their survival? Is your personal bitterness so important and valuable that you will consign them to annihilation? Do you ask everyone and everything in the world to love before you allow them the dignity and right to exist?

#Critical Role things #CR spoilers #I am not tagging properly rn bc I don't want this to get out of hand. #That said I will turn off reblogs if anything even mildly annoys me so everyone behave.

[the-californicationist]

They Think They're Sneaky

(Ghoap & Price/Reader)

It had taken you a while to make it feel like home. The soggy Liverpudlian winters were dreadfully different from your eighty-degree Miami holiday seasons. Seeing Santa Claus in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt was the Christmas of your childhood, and now you were bundled up, fighting the wind stinging your nose. After you were seeing each other for a few months, Price had been the one to invite you to stay, paying to break your apartment’s lease and cleaning out his extra room to help make space for you. You’d nested together, buying furnishings and linens, two little love birds. 

Price smiled at you over the kitchen island one day,

“What about a housewarming, then? Make a party for the boys before we head out on this next campaign.”

You agreed, rushing to prepare for a dinner. You made sure to head to the butchers for the best meats and cheeses, made sides from scratch - the whole deal. Price had put up the tree and the lights, hanging ornaments with you into the middle of the night, making love to you in the glow of the garlands, the tiny bulbs turning his skin into gold. 

The tables were set, the patio was cleaned, and the tree was trimmed. Then, the doorbell rang.

“Hey! C’mon in!” You hugged Soap, Ghost, and Gaz as they crossed your threshold, arms full of gifts, mostly bottle-shaped, hugging you back.

“Good ta see ya again, lass. Where’s the old man?”

“Out back, waiting for you,” you smiled, leading the team to the patio. 

The party went on for a good long while before anyone even mentioned being hungry, and you all drank more than you meant to. Price had smoked through two cigars, and he had a dram of whisky in his huge hand, talking animatedly with Gaz. Your friends from the gym had shown up, as well as your two pairs of neighbors, and the house was alive with laughter and warmth.

You spotted John across the kitchen, through the crowd, and gave him a knowing look. He saw you, mid-conversation with the neighbor, and excused himself, stalking you as you moved out to the patio. 

“Mm,” you put your hands inside his coat, “My warm bear. Bit chilly tonight, huh?”

“Aye,” he held you close to him, breathing into your hair, kissing your forehead. 

You looked up at him, seeing the love and desire in his eyes, hoping he’d kiss you. When he did, it washed over you, warm and fiery, burning down to your core. 

“Careful, love,” he warned, breaking your kiss, “House full o’ people are ‘bout to get more party than they came for if you keep rubbing on me like that.”

“Oh, yeah? How about the greenhouse? Surely they won’t miss us for that long,” you suggested, tugging on his arm, your eyes wild with mischief. 

He laughed, following you around the house to the large greenhouse he’d built for you. You’d mentioned missing fresh tomatoes, and so he had given it to you as a coming home present, breaking your heart with his surprise. You’d fucked his brains out in it that night, both of you sweating from the hot, humid interior, creating a tantric sauna, rolling around in each other’s filthy, soil-covered arms like animals. 

Now, as you approached the little building, you noticed that your secret space was occupied. Price held a hand to your mouth as you approached, pushing you back to the wall, hiding you from view. Slowly, carefully, you knelt with him, watching the scene of your two friends, Ghost and Soap locked in a half-naked embrace, unfold in front of your eyes. 

“Oh, my God!” You whispered as Price lowered his hand. 

“Hush!” He put a finger to his lips, unmoving, watching them as you crouched together, spying on them voyeuristically. 

Soap was having his cock sucked enthusiastically by Ghost. His mask was flipped up onto his nose, and his jaw was stretched to accommodate the Scot’s hardness, using his pink tongue to lick the silken skin along his shaft. He was jacking himself off with one hand, and fingering Johnny with the other, making him whine and beg for more of everything. Then, Ghost stood up, setting himself between Soap’s spread knees, ripping off his shirt, and began to feed himself into his lover’s asshole. You watched as Simon pulled Johnny’s mohawk back, exposing his huge Adam’s Apple, licking and sucking at his neck, leaving cruel bruises. 

With a unique urgency, he began to thrust himself up into the sergeant, jerking his cock as he did, spitting down onto it, rolling it in his palm. Soap was gripping onto Simon’s waist with white-knuckled hands, desperately keening. 

You gasped and Price turned to look at you, tearing his eyes away from your very personal porno,

“Mm, ‘s hot, huh, love? Got me fuckin’ hard. Wanna feel?”

He grabbed your hand and rubbed it along the crotch of his tight jeans. 

“Too bad our spot’s taken. Think they left us any room in the back corner there?” You joked with him, fondling his fleshy head and his rigid shaft through the fabric. 

You heard a terracotta pot shatter. Ghost yelled out a string of curse words, and you and Price ran for the patio, hurrying so you wouldn’t be spotted if they came out of the greenhouse. You stood by the back door, panting, laughing with each other, watching as the two sweaty bodies got dressed in a panic. Gaz poked his head out of the door and saw you two laughing, panting, and gazing out to the greenhouse. 

“What’s all this then?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing,” you tried to cover it up. 

But, just as you went to push him back inside, Ghost and Soap very casually exited the greenhouse, disheveled, Ghost’s black mask out of place, and Soap’s mohawk beyond repair. Gaz looked at them and then at you,

“That doesn’t look like nothing, does it, Cap?”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #ghoap #ghoap au #ghoap fic #ghoap smut #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

[hunterscabin]

Our Spot

Summary: Dean and the reader create a new memory at their favorite spot.

Request: Car sex with Dean. Passion, pleasure, over the top sex. @hawaiianohana15

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, male receiving, female receiving, face riding, car sex, fluff. 

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: This is my first time smutting; please be as loving and generous to me as Dean is to the reader! 

“Where are we going?” you asked, relaxing into the passenger seat of the Impala.

It had been three days since anyone left the bunker. There were no hunts to be found, and the weather was less than ideal for outdoor excursions. You and Sam were able to pass the time easily with research and conversation, but Dean’s daring spirit was starved without adventure, and he was beginning to reach the breaking point of his restlessness. He needed no convincing to agree on a late night drive, and it wasn’t long before you were speeding down Route 36.

“You’ll see.” Dean smirked, reaching across Baby’s bench seat to grab your hand.

Several miles and half of a Bob Seger album later, Dean veered toward a familiar exit. He turned down a tree-lined road, and as the car came to a stop, you inched closer to him.  

“Our spot.” you sighed contentedly, resting your head on his broad shoulder. 

Through a small clearing, you watched the rain dance across the water of Lovewell Reservoir. The picture before you was the backdrop of many meaningful moments, and a serene exhale floated past your lips as you traced them in your mind. Picnics shared under the tall oak trees, peaceful retreats to the lake after particularly bad hunts, Dean asking you to move into the bunker with him and Sam.

“So many good memories.” you whispered.

Dean kissed your temple in agreement, reminiscing over the same highlight reel.

“Except one.” he added, his voice gruff and suggestive.

Your gaze remained steady on the horizon, but your brow furrowed. You were lost in trying to place Dean’s meaning when you felt a strong hand dragging slowly up your thigh.

You looked to Dean, finding clarity in the mischievous grin spreading across his face, and your heart skipped a beat. Eagerly, you threw one leg across his lap, straddling him where he sat in the driver’s seat.

“It’s hard to believe we’ve never christened our spot.” you remarked coyly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You teased him, hovering your lips over his, just before the point of contact. Dean’s hot breath mingled with yours until the tension was too much to bear. Your lips met in a passionate kiss. Dean’s tongue spilled over yours, and you grew increasingly desperate for more of him. Chasing the sensation forming between your legs, you rolled your hips over his lap, feeling his cock harden beneath you.

“Baby.” Dean hummed, easing his hands under your shirt. His fingertips caressed your soft skin, ghosting over your sides, across your back, and around your breasts.

“You know, I love the names you have for me,” you admitted, kissing his shoulder, “but when you say ‘baby’ in this context,” you paused, fluttering your lips along his jaw, “I honestly don’t know if you’re referring to me or the car.”

Dean breathed a low laugh over your neck, taking your face in his hands.

“Tonight is all about you.” he promised.

With that, Dean lifted your shirt over your head and expertly unclasped your bra. You let the fabric fall until your breasts were fully exposed.

“So beautiful.” Dean licked his bottom lip at the sight of you, pulling the plump flesh between his teeth.

He bowed to your chest, taking your nipple in his mouth. His tongue teased your delicate skin, and the sensation sent shock waves to your already aching core. The more he toyed with your chest, the faster you rocked against him.

Caught in another kiss, your hand drifted to unfasten Dean’s belt. You pulled down his pants and boxers, allowing his swollen cock to spring free. You let out a lustful whimper before dismounting the hunter to stretch across the front seat.

Resting on your elbows, you took Dean’s impressive length in your warm hand and began to pump. Your mouth fell open, and you unconsciously licked your lips.

“Hungry for me, baby?”

You answered by glancing up at Dean with a wanting expression and drawing your tongue up the length of his shaft, not once breaking eye contact. Lapping at the tip, you swirled your tongue around the head, feeling Dean tense beneath you. You shifted forward, taking all of him in your mouth, sucking rhythmically as your head bobbed over his lap.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Dean’s hand combed through your hair, settling on the back of your head. He pulled gently at first, but the harder and faster you sucked, the tighter his grip became. “So good, baby.”

Dean’s palm slid down the curve of your body to grip your ass. His firm grasp spurred you on, and you hollowed your cheeks. You massaged the base of his cock, your hand working in tandem with your mouth. Dean began to writhe beneath you, and your steady rhythm broke as he came undone, spilling into you. You swallowed around his pulsating cock, easing him through his climax.

You kissed your way up Dean’s body until your eyes met his. Glistening with the evidence of his satisfaction, Dean gently wiped your chin before pressing his lips to yours.

“Shall we move this to the bedroom?” you quipped, climbing toward the rear of the car.

You paused after mounting the bench seat, and a wicked smile played on your lips. Leaning forward, your right hand disappeared under the collar of Dean’s shirt, bracing on his firm chest. Your left hand reached above you to splay against Baby’s hood. Eyeing Dean, you began to drag your throbbing core across the supple leather. Your chest heaved as the friction teased you through your jeans.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Dean growled, watching your body glide back and forth. “I want you to ride my face like that, baby.”

You mewled at Dean’s confession, and he deftly advanced toward the back, pulling you with him. He ripped off his shirt before attending to you. Dean’s eyes were ravenous as he unbuttoned your pants and removed your underwear. He laid flat beneath your naked form, and you kneeled on either side of his hips.

“I want to taste you, Y/N.” Dean’s voice was full of need as he hooked his hands behind your knees, pulling you toward him.

He nipped at your thighs as you eased yourself onto his lips. Dean’s tongue welcomed you, drawing through your folds. His movements were tortuously light, and you twitched with every graze.

“Dean.” you purred. 

At the sound of his name, the depth and pressure of his tongue increased. You rocked your hips as he waved up and down your velvety core. He licked into you with fervor, stopping only to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucked vigorously, and your back arched in pleasure.

“Oh, fuck. Right there, baby.” Your hands moved to massage your breasts, and Dean moaned at the sight of you. The extra sensation of his vibrating lips pushed you over the edge. Your entire body trembled as he worked you through your orgasm.

Dean shifted beneath you, sitting up so that you were face to face. He cradled your head while trailing kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone. His touch was electric, and you were already craving more.

“Make love to me, Dean.”

At your request, a needy groan rumbled in his chest. Dean slipped an arm around your waist, gently lowering you onto your back. Already hard from eating you out, he required no preparation. Green eyes bore longingly into yours as Dean lined himself up with your entrance. He dragged his cock between your folds before pushing into you. Your walls stretched to accept him, and you relished in the sweet burn as he bottomed out inside you. Dean stayed this way as he leaned down to kiss you. He hadn’t even moved, and the feeling inside you was already starting to build.

“Dean.” you begged through the kiss, and he took his queue.

He thrust into you, and the slow drag of his cock was exquisite. Your legs quivered as his body moved with yours in a way only mastered after years of exploration.

“God, Y/N. You feel so good.”

Dean had memorized every inch of you, and he used his expertise to draw you closer to the edge. His hands moved between your breasts, kneading your chest and rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck!” Your euphoric cry excited the hunter, and his thrusts became more precise. Dean’s cock found the sweet spot inside you, causing you to draw in a sharp breath. He held his position, increasing his pace until you were screaming his name.

“Come for me, baby.” Dean commanded, his voice impossibly low.

Dean’s thumb rubbed your clit, quickly circling the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing you to reach your brink. A second orgasm erupted through you, and as your walls clenched around him, Dean willfully succumbed to his own climax.

His heart racing, Dean fell down beside you, breathless. He pulled you onto his chest, and you melted into him, caught in a dreamy haze. His cheek pressed gently to your forehead, and you craned your neck to gaze up at him. He dipped his head to capture your lips, kissing you sweetly. Your head fell back into the crook of Dean’s neck, and you breathed in his familiar, intoxicating scent.

You stayed like this for some time, completely relaxed in the comfort of each other’s arms, listening to the rain fall on the hood of Dean’s 67 Chevy.

Original tags: @81mysteriouslyme, @hawaiianohana15, @that67chevyimpala​

Masterlist

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #spn fanfic #spn smut #supernatural fanfic #supernatural smut