#Fort Greene Park | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theragethatisdesire · 10 months

Text

aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on.

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

3K notes · View notes

emilybeemartin · 7 months

Text

Just to tie in my two themes this month----

Additional notes, because poll options apparently limit their characters:

Frodo finds great peace in watching the tides rise and fall throughout each day. He attends all the ranger programs on birds and seashells and fills pages with sketches and poetry.

Sam meticulously selects postcards in the gift shop for each of his friends and spends a whole morning writing and addressing them. He also buys Junior Ranger hats for his kids and a variety of Appalachian jams for Rosie.

Park rangers launch a Missing Person search for Aragorn when they realize his car's been parked at Avalanche Creek for three days. The search runs for almost a week before he comes strolling out the opposite side of the park, supporting one of the SAR techs who twisted an ankle during the search.

Legolas is first drawn to Olympic for the towering, mossy temperate rainforests, but the ground goes out from under him when he steps onto Second Beach for the first time. He spends an entire day watching the light and tides shift on the sea stacks, and he leaves feeling both full and hollow, like a bell that's just been rung.

Mammoth is only Gimli's first stop on a cavern tour, followed by Jewel and Wind Caves and Carlsbad Caverns. Wind Cave is his favorite for the unusual formations. He makes an obnoxious tween boy cry in Carlsbad for breaking off a speleothem.

Boromir is on a tour of military parks. He asks so many questions to the intern working the info station at Fort Sumter the kid has to go find the park historian. His favorite site is Vicksburg because that place was buckwild, though he silently judges one of the reenactors for his clumsy handling of a black powder rifle.

Merry also makes stops in Jurassic and Dinosaur National Monuments. He watches every park video, takes selfies in front of all the fossil exhibits, and earns his Junior Ranger badge at each one. He buys a keychain for Pippin.

Pippin actually gets four citations, mostly for trying to stick his hands in mud pots. He doesn't mean anything by it---he's just so delighted and curious about the bizarre landscape. He winds up with several thermal burns and dumps a king's ransom in the donation box on his last day.

Gandalf gets dinged by rangers for not paying the $5 fee for Trunk Bay, but he acts senile until they eventually decide to drop it. He gets postcards from everyone and responds to none of them.

Faramir and Eowyn are traveling together and do many of the same hikes and rides, but they do have some different preferences off-trail. Eowyn drags Faramir to a rodeo and the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar in Jackson Hole, and he goads her into Ranger Shelton Johnson's living history programs on the Buffalo Soldiers in Yosemite.

Eomer is bike-packing on his sport cruiser motorcycle. He goes to Roosevelt south unit for the wild horse herds but ends up spending half a day watching a prairie dog town. He takes 400 photos of them, mostly blurry, and texts them to Eowyn.

1K notes · View notes

wanderingnewyork · 4 months

Text

Looking across #Fort_Greene_Park, #Brooklyn.

#nyc #brooklyn #fort greene park #newyorkcity #nycparks #nycparksphotography

8 notes · View notes

deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction.

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door.

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men.

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son.

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos.

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June.

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one.

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle.

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily.

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass.

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room.

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at.

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh.

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself.

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on.

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans.

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely.

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people.

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving.

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean.

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow.

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway.

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation.

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him.

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective.

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently.

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly.

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet.

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter.

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera.

What a funny thing.

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights.

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything.

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction.

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters.

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted.

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward.

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants.

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire.

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer.

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand.

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds.

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over.

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it.

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie.

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added.

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth.

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him.

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie.

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog.

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth.

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair.

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap.

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table.

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor.

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time.

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss.

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts.

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.”

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching.

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name.

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly.

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned.

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more.

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head.

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole.

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely.

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly. “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck.

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes.

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy.

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths.

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw.

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.”

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch.

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly.

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath.

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit.

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her.

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt.

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily.

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his.

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit.

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him.

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would.

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure.

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

taglist

@rominaszh @livingdeadmak @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @stxrgazer03 @epsilonsagittarii @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28 @deansbbyx @lickmybawls @jackles010378 @winchstrdean @deanwinchestersgirl87 @the-achievementhunter @deanfreakingwinchester @k-slla @madzzz0797 @laylaackles @fanfic-n-tabulous @kristophalis @mrlonelycat @taylortotsworld @evznackles

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

kinkmas2023 masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#12daysofspnkinkmas2023 #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction

848 notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 5 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 39

part 1 | part 38 | ao3

Eight hours, four pizzas, and one — yes, one, Henderson, Jesus — job-well-done beer each later, Steve waves the kids out the door and promptly collapses facedown on his shiny new vinyl flooring.

"God," he groans, rolling his forehead on the floor.

Eddie's not much better off. He's slumped against the front door, bracing his weight with one hand, head hung low between his shoulders. His hair's all frizzed out with sweat, and Steve can hear his soft panting over the hum of the radio. "Yeah," he says in breathless agreement. "Fatherhood is exhausting."

Steve snorts a quiet laugh. "Welcome to the babysitters club."

"Not even getting paid for this shit," Eddie complains, but Steve can see the smile tugging at his mouth when he steps over him. "I'm gonna grab a shower. That okay?"

"Go ahead," Steve mumbles, eyelids heavy as he waves Eddie down the hall. "Towels are in the closet. Borrow whatever you want."

His limbs feel like lead. Shoulders throbbing; headache worse. He's also... maybe, possibly having some major regrets about moving all the couches out onto the front lawn along with the rolled-up carpet earlier (a fact he'd sooner eat his own shirt than admit to Eddie, because Eddie warned him not to do it; told him he was going to be too tired after installing the floors to bring them all back inside, and Steve had shrugged him off at the time because Steve's an overconfident dipshit.) Anyway, he's pretty sure the spasm in his spine is price enough to pay for not listening. He's not about to put up with Eddie's gloating, too.

Eddie pauses in the hallway, rings tapping against the wall, smug little bastard look on his face. "You doin' okay down there, champ?"

It's a serious effort to raise his arm to flip him the bird, but Steve manages.

—

"Hey, sunshine."

Eddie's voice is gentle as Steve blinks himself awake, neck cracking horribly, little puddle of drool under his chin. He's not sure when he drifted off. The last thing he remembers is nuzzling his cheek against the floor, feeling the weirdly papery material slide against his stubble; thinking about how it was cheap and it was tacky but it was new and it was his. How it felt like as good of a fresh start as anyone in Forrest Hills was going to get.

"How long was I out for?" he groans, rolling onto his back to stretch out his stiff limbs.

Long enough, apparently. Eddie got a whole pillow fort situation sorted out while Steve was snoozing — dragged all the pillows and blankets off Steve's bed and arranged them in a pile in the middle of the empty room, pulled a side table and lamp over from the corner, gathered up the radio and the last box of leftover pizza and his black lunchbox and a couple of beers to share.

He's also freshly showered and wearing Steve's pajamas. Looks clean and warm and soft; borrowed Hawkins High green sweats, a thin, white undershirt, the shoulders damp where his hair hangs in pretty wet waves.

Steve is so, so normal about the picture Eddie paints.

So normal.

Not at all popping a boner over a guy in ratty loungewear.

Steve crosses his legs — subtly, left ankle to right knee, but Eddie gives him a knowing smirk over the lip of his beer bottle anyway.

"Shut up," Steve blushes.

"Did I speak?" Eddie asks.

—

part 40

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic

545 notes · View notes

shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

don’t keep driving

DATE: FEBRUARY 4, 2023

summary: when your morning starts off on the wrong foot, a certain celebrity cuts you off and makes it even worse. this causes you and harry to bicker before he gets on stage, leaving things unsaid. being his security, you were forced to work around him. while he’s performing, harry makes sure to leave you flustered enough to come into his dressing room at the end of the night.

request: yesss

words: 6.6k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [choking, slight orgasm denial], degrading, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, protected sex (consent is not directly implied here, always ask for consent!), dirty talk), language, and loads of dialogue (especially at the end)

note: the timeline here is completely different from his actual tour. i did describe the la night 8 outfit and a few real incidents that occurred from other shows lmao, but everything else is obviously fictional. enjoy!! harry masterlist

famous!harry x security!reader

—

You weren’t the type of person that gets irritated easily. Patience was your forte throughout your whole life, meaning you were rarely impatient to the point of madness.

However, unlike most of your life, you were a little more ticked off today than usual.

It started when your alarm didn’t wake you up this morning. You were so tired from the previous night, you passed out on the sofa in your living room. Your phone was left in your purse and therefore, making you frantically get ready this morning before heading to work.

Then you stopped to get some coffee because last night’s shift was a drag. You didn’t want to feel like crawling out of your skin again. You sipped your drink in the car, on your way to work. You nearly spit it across your windshield when you tasted the bitterness. Looking at the labeling, they completely botched your order with a black coffee. Was a vanilla latte that hard?

Setting the burnt-tasting liquid in a cup holder, you focus on driving. You try to keep your calm, hands gripping the wheel harshly. Traffic was packing up, making you later and later for work. Your head throbbed in stress as you sharply inhaled with a scowl on your face. You pressed the radio on to fill the road raged air. The very much overplayed “As It Was” plays throughout your speakers, making you roll your eyes. Once you exited the freeway, all you had to do was get through a few lights. Just a few stoplights and you would be at work.

Just breathe.

A flashy, red sports car speeds past you, swaying in its lane carelessly. It swerves in front of you, cutting you off entirely. You huff, slamming down on your breaks and honking your horn. You thank heavens that no one is behind you as you switch lanes aggressively and smash the gas pedal to accelerate to his speed. You catch up to the vehicle and glare at the figure. You almost couldn’t believe it.

Ironically, Harry Styles is driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his phone. He grins at the small screen, eyes flicking up and down from the road. You both arrive at a red stop light, breaking ferociously over the white line. The sight of his casualness angers you as you beep again. His head is alerted left toward your car. With knitted eyebrows and a death stare, you flip him off.

As he sits frozen and shocked, you accelerate through the now green light, leaving him in the dust. For some reason, a hint of a smile curls on your lips as you roll into the private parking lot. You show your ID card and pull into the security area. In your rear view mirror, Harry follows closely behind you, parking in a different section.

You smirk to yourself, knowing you gladly flipped off none one other than the Harry Styles.

—

You slip through the crowded hallways, anxious from the high-pitched screaming coming from the stadium. The closer it gets to showtime, the more anticipation fills up to the room and leaves everyone on high-alert.

It’s just like any other night.

You worked security at the Kia Forum. Ear piercing screams, blinding lights, and chaotic energy surrounded you almost every night. You knew some people would kill for a job that monitors and guards their favorite bands, and you were immensely grateful, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get stressed out and exhausted by the end of the week.

To add, you worked at the Kia Forum, not for the artist. Meaning, you were not directly affiliated with the band or artist performing there. Many people got confused and begged you for an autograph, but it was rare you talked one on one with the musicians for longer than a minute. Working at the forum helped you to not get attached to certain artists because you got to see a variety of artists every day, so you were never obsessing over one. Again, people would kill for your job.

But out of all the people you’ve worked security for, Harry Styles had to be the… most contradicting and unexpected. At least to you.

You’ve seen hundreds of videos of him online and he seemed like the perfect man with the perfect face. He was kind, charming, and had an old-man sense of humor. His figure was exceptional, making teenage girls fawn over him until they faint (you’ve witnessed it). He’s performed at the forum too many times to count (14 times if you were counting though) and each time he acts the same. Funny. Charming. Delightful. Engaging. Sexy. Emotional. Blah blah blah.

Fans don’t see the side of him that you see. Sometimes, you don’t even think his crew or friends see it. He was one of the only artists that you’ve talked to for more than a minute. And every minute you spent practically spitting at each other, you felt your time being wasted. Truly, Harry was cocky, vain, and couldn’t care less about your feelings. The only appropriate way to act was to deflect his own attitude back at him. You weren’t going to put him on a pedestal just because he was a celebrity; he was a person just like anyone else. You’ve only known him for a total of a few weeks; tonight would be his 15th time at the forum since you’ve worked here. However, the car incident today was your last nerve. Thankfully, this was his last night here before Love on Tour finally traveled out of the country.

Shaking your head, you wash away all of the pounding thoughts in your head. You rush around the back rooms in anticipation and anxiousness. Scurrying through the endless hallways, your foot snags in a random extension cord too quickly to balance yourself. Bracing for the fall, your arms extend out, only to be caught by the man whose name is plastered around the arena tonight. Tattooed arms lift you up to your feet as you try to balance yourself, chest pushing off of his chest. A smirk rises on his lips at your proximity as you roll your eyes until they touch the back of your skull.

“A thank you would be much appreciated,” Harry doesn’t remove his arms from beneath yours, keeping you closer than you’d like to be.

You swallow, green eyes piercing yours addictingly. You quickly glance at his outfit; a pastel pink T-shirt with a sequin teddy bear and blue leather pants. Harry Styles, the image, was adorable, sweet, and sexy— something you could’ve admitted at one point in your life. But since you’ve had your eyes opened by Harry, the real one, your blood boils every time he speaks, arrogance laced in his tongue. He was immature, and his childlike mannerisms crumpled any belief that ever found him endearing or sensible.

The only thing that may be sensitive was his ego, which made Mount Everest look small in comparison. Even though he did somehow manage to make a teddy bear shirt sexy, you would never in a million years tell him that.

“You were in my way,” You grumble, pushing yourself off of him. Your fingers felt the valley of his abs through his shirt as you brushed over them swiftly. Swallowing thickly, you stand in front of him with a locked jaw, acting like you didn’t just feel down his torso.

“If anythin’, y’were in my way—”

“Oh, sorry, did I ruin your makeup? Boo hoo. I didn’t ask for you to catch me!” You taunt and shout, eyes furrowed in irritation.

“Think I’d just let you fall?” His tone was surprisingly soft, and in some way, convincingly genuine, but you ignored it.

“Yes, I think that’s exactly what you’d do,” You click your tongue as your eyes bulge from their sockets. Harry’s nose flares while his lips are pursed tightly together.

“That doesn’t make me look good though, does it, darling?” Now, he tries to act soft, sweeping some of your hair to the side. You swat his ringed fingers away in disgust, infamously rolling your eyes. The trace of his fingers left a burning trail on your skin.

“And texting while driving does? Let’s all hail Harry for being such a great role model!” Your arms cross as your eyes roll dramatically for the hundredth time this minute. “For all I know, you were probably sexting some French model.”

Harry instantly remembers a few hours ago, when he was driving unsafely near the forum. He continuously stared at the adorable video on the screen instead of the road, accidentally cutting you off when he swerved into your lane. He cringes at the memory and your comment. As you spin away from him with annoyance sizzling off of you, he grips your elbow and swings you around to face him again. Your body twirls irritatingly too close to him as he holds you tightly by your elbows.

“S‘important,” It wasn’t really. It was just a heartwarmingly sweet video of his Goddaughter getting her nails officially done for the first time. He doesn’t know why he pulled you back toward him. He knows you didn’t like him and would rather breathe poisonous chemicals than the air surrounding him. But for some reason he needed you to know that he wasn’t texting some French model.

How did he mess up that bad?

“Sexting is more important than your life?” Your eyebrows lift as your eyes hang wearily at his dumb statement.

“Since when do y’care about my life?”

“I don’t. I care about other people’s lives. Which you endangered with your reckless driving!” Your shouts echo throughout the halls as the screams from the stands get more noisy and impatient for Harry’s arrival. “You have such a God-complex. Thinking you’re always right,” You grumble with a head shake.

“But if m’not right then that makes y’right, huh? So who really has the ‘God-complex’?” A smirk crawls up his face, arrogance inflating his ego. You huff under your breath, eyes squinting tiny daggers into his soul. Your skin boils with angered heat, fists bawling to contain it.

“Two minutes, Harry! Need you under the stage now!” A crew member jogs and calls for him across the way. Harry sincerely smiles in affirmation as the member slips back underneath the stage.

“Why do you act like you’re so high and mighty all the time? Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you get to break the law!” You practically spit in his face.

“I break more things than you’d like to know,” He licks his lips with his unexpected innuendo, causing your heart to randomly speed up. His cocky attitude triggered you more than you would like to admit.

“That’s it! Your ego. Somebody needs to humble you.”

“I would say I’m quite humble. You are not.”

“Maybe that big ego is to make up for something,” You fire at him before he could continue to say a snarky comment back. You fold your arms as his face freezes and his words stop. He clicks his tongue as a psychotic laugh suddenly tumbles from his throat. You furrow your eyebrows at him concerningly.

“You are so fuckin’ in for it,” His voice is deep near your ear as he slips past you, jogging away. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until you walked out into the arena, bursting with lively energy and high-levels of anticipation. As best as you could, you shake off the sound of Harry’s voice; demanding, alluring, and almost… lustful.

You approach one of your co-workers, who is also one of your best friends, and greet her with a fist bump. The barrier was surrounded by guards to begin with, so your presence probably wasn’t needed, but the cash was good for a night shift. And plus, the shows were extremely fun, even if they were for Harry Styles.

—

You might not care for Harry, but his fans were something else. Laughter bubbles up in your throat from reading their ridiculous and out-of-pocket posters.

The jumbo-tron pans to a large white poster that says ‘DADDY?’, causing Harry to shift his attention that way. He stares at the sign, holding back a devilish smirk that you knew all too well.

“Yes?” He says, smile breaking as his laughter echoes in the microphone. Everyone screams so ridiculously loud, you swear there wasn’t a single person silent. “All I can say is, yes?”

The fans continue to scream at his taunting and devilish behavior. Your mouth falls open and you gasp, wondering if it’s true or if he’s just doing it for the fans. You imagine using the name in bed, and heat rushes up to your face when you imagine Harry with you. If he was anything like he was on stage, he was probably into edging and choking as well. He constantly “edged” the audience and pretended to choke himself during one of his songs. Your eyes blur as your body begins to sweat from the lewd idea; Harry’s hand around your neck while he fucks you so deep your eyes are rolling back for a new reason other than his cockiness. You curse at yourself and rapidly shake your head because Harry was the last person you should be having dirty thoughts of.

As the night goes on, Harry eventually transitions into “Keep Driving”, which he has been waiting for all night. Ever since you and Harry’s conversation in the hallway, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He hasn’t forgotten the way your hand traced his abdomen and how warm your face felt under his fingertips. He especially didn’t forget your little comment. He peers at the back of your head as the intro starts, his hands resting tightly around the microphone. He starts singing, excitedly waiting for the bridge.

You actually really liked his music, and it frustrated you sometimes that he was so annoying because it made it hard to appreciate. However, as a new song begins you face your attention to the popstar smoothly singing the words.

“Passports and footwells, kiss her and don’t tells,” Harry sings, eyes gliding toward yours as he winks. A group of girls screams happily behind you, but you had a strange feeling it wasn’t for them. Your heart jumps as you watch his eyes drift away to other parts of the audience. You continue to watch him with squinted eyes and a chewed lip, trying to decipher why he just did that.

The entire crowd sings along to the absurd and random bridge, everyone putting their full heart into it. It was endearing to see so many people coming together to appreciate a common interest. A reason you loved this job was because you loved music, and every day it reminded you of how many people loved it just as much.

“Cocaine, side boob, choke her with a sea view,” Harry motions his hand towards his throat, pretending to choke himself. You notice how he pinches the sides without gripping all the way, wondering if he did that on purpose or not. When it comes to choking (as a sexual act), it is important to not fully wrap a hand around their neck, so they don’t… well, pass out or die. If he knew that, that must mean he’s into it…

His green eyes locked on yours for every word of that line, his mouth wide as he husked out the lyrics. You swallow, heart racing as familiar heat creeps up your neck. Before you could look away, he removes his hand from his own neck and points directly at you. Your eyes widen as you forget to breathe, coughing on your flusteredness.

What. The. Fuck?

With uneven and strangled breaths, you tell one of your co-workers that you feel unwell and need to use the restroom. He nods understandably and you jog to the nearest bathroom.

As Harry continues to perform, he notices you vanished. He wasn’t sure when, but your figure was no longer stuck standstill to the left of the stage after he finished Matilda and Little Freak. Something in him pangs with pain, but he assumes it’s from the depressing songs he just sang. He doesn’t have enough time to ponder and find the real answer because the delicate Satellite intro begins to play throughout the arena. He begins to sing just like he has all night, but he can’t keep his eyes from wandering to that empty gap between all the workers.

—

The iconic and chaotic screams of tonight become only a memory as the show ends. Thousands of stylish people begin to leave the arena safely with the help of security like yourself. However, you left the room right when the show ended because you were too unwell to say the least.

When you came back from the bathroom after Harry’s little choking charade, you came back to him dancing and singing as if nothing happened. As the night continued on, his enchanting eyes would hook onto yours for a second too long. Every time he strategically moved, hand sliding seductively down his torso or hips swaying sexily, his eyes would burn holes in your skin.

Saying you were flushed and flustered during the concert was an understatement; you felt like you were bathing in a sauna on a summer day. The anger that bubbled under your heated skin didn’t help in cooling you down; it only made you more furious that his little antics affected you so easily. You tried to deny the fact that he was looking directly at you by rolling your eyes, but when he did it more than occasionally with that infamous smirk on his face, it confirmed the theory.

You pushed through the authorized doors, sweating under your uniform. You were determined to find him and talk to him. In some twisted way, you felt like he had some power over you now. Like he had won this stupid little war you had. You knew he knew what he was doing, and you were sure he had an idea of how it made you feel. You didn’t like that.

When your blazing eyes discover his dressing room door, you pound your clenching fist against it. You don’t wait for him to answer before opening the door impatiently yourself.

“Harry—” Your words get caught in your throat as you eye the half naked man in front of you. Harry stands shirtless across the small room, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin as a towel rests upon his shoulder. He casually turns around, an unamused expression on his face. You gulp, pushing all your feelings down. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Harry asks innocently as he dabs the towel over his sheer skin. You try not to avert your eyes from his face, but he’s making it incredibly difficult to not look at his toned abs and arms.

“The hand! On the neck!” You whisper-shout at him as he nonchalantly strides closer to you and lays the towel on the couch. You remain angry as he stands in front of you with a guiltless look on his face.

“I beg your pardon?” He politely states with huge eyes, causing you to growl and nearly punch him in the mouth. Maybe if you did it hard enough, he would never talk again. You heavily considered it.

“Th-the choking thing!” You stumble over your words out of frustration. His body radiated heat that you were close enough to feel, heart pounding unwillingly in your chest from the sudden proximity.

“Ohh, you mean this?” Harry delicately rests his ringed hand over your neck, any word you even thought about saying got caught in your throat.

His fingertips press lightly against the pulses on your neck, metal digging into your skin delightfully. You attempt to swallow your saliva as your heart beats crazily. After a few seconds, your vision gets slightly dizzy and your heart stammers faster and faster. He releases the pressure, hand remaining lightly around your throat. You take heavy breaths, looking up at him as flames light up in your irises.

“Har—”

“Ah ah, no talking yet. I think you’ve done enough of that,” He demands deeply with a threatening press to your pulse. You obey with a heavy puff as he releases, not having much of a choice. Being right next to the door, his opposite hand twists the tiny lock, trapping you inside.

“Do you remember what you said before I went on?” As your mind flashes through the memories of tonight, you’re reminded of a handful of things you said to him. But you didn’t know which one he was referring to, so you shake your head. “My ego. You said it was so big it must make up for something. What did you mean by that?”

Your eyes widen as heat crawls up your skin quickly. Harry can feel you gulp against his hand as you remember the underlying reason behind the insult.

Harry knew what you meant, he just wanted to hear you say it. Your little bursts of anger gave him enjoyment and relief, especially after 15 shows working together. The acid that spat from your mouth always ignited a fire inside of him that he’s never felt from anyone else. He never understood it, but when he was on stage and saw how flustered you were, it finally clicked. Your little comment earlier gave him an opportunity.

“Your dick is small,” You grumble, looking down at the carpeted floor.

“What was that?”

“Your dick. Is. Small.” You emphasize every repeated word with an irritating puff. Like earlier, a psychotic chuckle elicits from his mouth, scaring you from his unknown thoughts.

“I don’t like your big, bratty attitude.”

“It’s nowhere near as big as your ego.”

With your words and his rippled laughter, the last thing you expected him to do was kiss you. It was sloppy and hungry as he ripped apart your jacket until the zipper broke. You gasp as it falls to the floor around you, allowing him to slip his tongue dangerously into your agape mouth. His lips move in rhythm against yours, teeth clanging with desperation. Your hands intertwine with his damp curls and you tug them viciously. A groan elicits from his throat as his hand tightens around your neck. He pulls away, both of you heaving from the intensity and heat.

“What the–”

“No talking. Got it, brat?” His grasp is strong against you, rings pinching your skin tastefully. Your cunt aches underneath the tight fabric of your uniform, frustratingly horny from his appeal. His muscles bulk as he chaotically unbuttons your pants, yanking them down thighs.

You hastingly flip off your shoes, cursing at yourself for giving into him. His rough palms on your skin set you on fire; shots of electricity soaring straight to your clit. The blinding pinches of his fingers around your throat create a pool of arousal in your panties, and it disgusts you how turned on you are from him.

“How wet are you right now?”

“Drier than a desert,” You lie through gritted teeth as he pushes you harsher against the wall.

“I’ll see about that.”

Following his own word, his free hand slips past your underwear and cups your pussy. A strangled noise leaves you at the feeling of his bare hand touching you so vulnerably. He has you at his mercy, for once not being able to fight back. Instinctively, you grind once over his rugged palm needily and he growls at your heavy arousal.

“Fuckin’ brat,” He spits, rubbing against your heat ferociously. For the first time tonight, you moan unwilling at his movements, hands grasping securely on his shoulder blades.

With a smug smirk, Harry continues to itch your clit, giving you a blissful friction that has your eyes rolling. Your stomach tenses as you bite your lip forcefully, containing all of your noises. You almost forget about his hand on your neck until he presses along your pulses. Stars begin to gloss over your vision as heated lust fogs up your mind. You feel your body float into the sky until you're seeing the clouds of pure ecstasy surround you.

As the burning blood runs through your veins again, you take a deep breath that causes you to moan out loudly. You slap a hand over your own mouth at your foolishness, knowing that anyone could hear you and know exactly what was going on.

You see, Harry is famous. He can get away with a lot of things like sleeping with a fan or maybe even texting and driving. But you, an average security worker, could not. If someone knew what you were doing right now, you’d be fired on the spot.

However, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as Harry slots a slender finger inside of you. You whimper at how easily he slipped it in. You were so fucking turned on, you could fix the drought. He simply curls his digit as you clutch around him, causing him to hiss.

Harry removes his hand from your panties, causing your eyes to shoot open and glare at him angrily. He brings your wetness up to his mouth and widens, sucking away all of your juices from his fingertips. Your chest heaves at the sight, exasperated and outraged that he’s having so much fun with this.

“For someone so hostile, you taste very sweet,” His taunts, making you growl. You try to push him off of you because you were sick of him. Sick of his games and sick of his ego. Way too sick of his ego. You didn’t have time for this. But he holds you secure by locking you to the wall with his hand. “Nuh uh, we’re not done just yet. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part. You know, where I show you you’re wrong.”

With a skillful hand, he unzips his trousers and tears your panties off your body. You gasp, shocked at how impulsive he’s being. He pushes his briefs down until they’re around his ankles. His cock springs free, large and leaking. His tip is pink followed by several veins running along the sides. You can see its neglect, aching and desperate– you can feel the pain. But your heart stammers wildly in your chest when you really comprehend his size. He was thick and bulky, but also long and lengthy. It almost looked fake because it was so surreal. People would pay big money for that, and having an idea of his income, maybe he had.

“Did you pay for that? Because there is no way,” You whisper breathily in the heated silence. He magically slips on a miraculous condom that he must have gotten while you were daydreaming in a haze. Of course, he just has condoms with him. He chuckles hoarsely and shortly as he leans closer toward your ear.

“All natural, baby,” He rasps from the aftermath of singing all night. His breath is soft and electrifying on your skin, causing your cunt to throb with undeniable desire.

His thumb rests on your pulsating clit, petting it delicately, unlike the roughness of his hand on your throat. Your thighs clench, sensitive because he’s being such a tease. He runs his fingertips over your wetness as more begins to leak out of you, his cold, metal rings grazing the skin of your inner thighs.

“What is taking you so long? Scared your fake dick is going to fall off?” You strangle out your snarky words from behind his choking grasp. He clenches his teeth in annoyance as he grips your supple thigh and hooks it around his hip.

“I was going to ask if you were ready, but since you want to be so impatient, I don’t really give a fuck anymore,” And with that, he thrusts inside of you completely.

Harry tucks himself deep in you, giving you no mercy with his vicious movements. Your nosy moan echoes throughout the tiny dressing room, but you didn’t have enough self-awareness to stop it. His thick cock stretches out your walls so deliciously, your pussy constricts snuggly around him. He groans at your tightness, wet and warm all around him. He plunges brisker into you, addicted to the feeling of your velvety cunt wrapping him.

Your legs tremble with his powerful propels. If he wasn’t pinning you with his cock wrathfully into the wall, you’re sure your legs would give out from underneath you. You squeeze your leg hooked on his hip, bringing him closer and deeper inside of you. You both share a collective groan at the new feeling, touching a place that sends you both into overwhelming bliss.

“Still small?” He husks smugly as his hand caresses the nape of your neck, controlling your pulses. Harry moans when you grind your hips into his, rubbing against his shaft mesmerizingly.

“I’m,” You try to contain your moan in order to drain his satisfaction, “unimpressed.”

“Really? How about I go deeper?” Like before, he lifts up your other leg, latching your body completely to his. You gasp as you leave the ground, hands digging into his shoulders brutally. He shoves you against the wall, fingers restricting your airflow as he slams into harsher than before.

Harry rams inside of you at a new angle, intensifying the pleasure to an even higher level than before. His thrusts are brutally quick, as if he was trying to win a race. Losing your grip, one of your hands falls down his crafted torso, tracing his toned and tattooed skin. Your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy as you lose reality. You feel your spirit leave your body; you swear you were dangling above yourself. With your lack of oxygen, the world slowly slips away from you in a lustful haze. If you died now, you would be beyond pissed because you were with Harry, but at least you had the best sex of your whole life.

But you would never, in a million years, tell Harry that.

His coarse hand drags down your abdomen, leaving a blaze in its trail. His rugged thumb circles hastingly over your bud, causing flashes of your orgasm to appear in view at the sensation. As your head begins to drop forward, Harry releases the blinding pressure from your neck and slams his hand on the wall to balance on. You desperately inhale, craving the oxygen to bring you back to the present.

When your stomach tightens and you squeeze around his length, it alerts you both that you were on the brink of your orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure from his cock doesn’t miss to prevail over you as he jabs your cunt with no sympathy. Your nails scratch along his butterfly tattoo that sits beautifully in between you both, almost too innocent to be involved in such a sinful act. The head of his shaft repeatedly hits your g-spot, eliciting loud cries from your mouth. He doesn’t try to quiet you.

“Tell me, Y/N. Tell me who’s making you feel this good,” Harry demands as he rocks and flicks his hips skillfully. You were too desperate and way too close to reply with a sassy remark. However, your mind flashes over the memory of tonight when Harry read that sign. That sign. You knew if you didn’t listen to him he would take it away from you.

You hated how he had so much control over you. But your body thought otherwise.

“You! You’re making me feel so good, Daddy,” Breathless moans and mewls tumble from your mouth as your climax shakes your whole body. “So deep.”

He growls heavily against your ear, your body vibrating from the effect. A devilish smirk haunts your lips at how affected he is by the simple name, and in some way, you felt like you had a centimeter of his control.

“Daddy, huh? God, you’re such a slut,” He grunts, squeezing the back of your neck as he twitches inside of you. “Am I still small? Hm?”

“N-no, you’re big, Daddy. So deep inside of me. Fuck, I’m gonna come,” You whine embarrassingly as your head shakes against the wall.

“Come, Y/N. Come all over my big cock,” He husks in your ear as you continue to thrash on the wall. To silence you, Harry catches your lips with his. Your pussy tightens around his length as your orgasm waves over you. Your body and mind submerges into a blissful fog as your climax surrounds him. His thrusts become languid and messy as he feels your cum soak his cock. Your tongue slips graciously along his pink lips, helping him finish. If you weren’t in an orgasmic haze, you would have walked out and left him edged.

With a string of profanities against your lips, his length spasms against your walls. His cum shoots into the condom, and within a few moments, his movements still.

Heavy breathing, hearts racing, muscles trembling, and sweat glistening, you two stand with your bodies pressed together. You swallow at the awkward aftermath because you didn’t think this far. You never even thought this was a possibility in any universe.

You just had sex with Harry. Oh shit.

He watches as you come to the realization. You quickly push him off of you and pull up your pants. You wince when you notice that you have no underwear because Harry tore them to shreds. Slipping on your shoes, Harry saunters over to his vanity and wraps a towel around his waist.

“Don’t act so terrified, Y/N,” His familiar cocky and nonchalant character was back like normal, and in all honesty, it gave you some type of comfort. His attitude gave you an excuse to be irritated and allowed you to shift away from the awkwardness that remained wrapped around your throat. Even if he was across the room from you now, you could still feel the tight grasp of his ringed fingers pinching your neck. You had a feeling that everything he did would now somehow remind you of sex with him.

“How are you so okay right now? Do you just do this with everyone?”

“What do you mean?”

“So you just bring people back here after every show and have sex with them?”

“Bloody hell, Y/N. No, I don’t do that,” He practically winces from your accusation, and you subconsciously relax your muscles at his denial. “Never done that actually.”

��So then what was this?”

“Technically, you came in here,” He pins you with a knowing look and you roll your eyes with a huff.

“Just so you know, no one can know about this, okay? And I know you probably couldn’t give less of a shit, but I could be fired,” Your jaw ticks as your eyes wander around the room, refusing to look at him directly.

“I won’t tell anyone. Promise,” Although he is a cocky and sarcastic jerk, you can’t help but realize that his tone is one hundred percent genuine. With a simple nod, you take his word for it and start to exit the room.

“By the way, you owe me new underwear.”

“Anything you like in particular?” With your hand on the knob, you think for a moment.

“I want one of everything. I know it won’t even put a dent in your pocket, but I like to think that I did,” As his chuckle fills your ears, it becomes more and more distant as you exit the small room. Security and crew buzz around the hallways, shocking you frozen immediately. You’re praying that nobody saw you walk out of Harry’s room, let alone heard you five minutes ago.

“Y/N! There you are. Did you know that the crew had a prank war under the stage? It was so funny, God, you just had to be there. And I was laughing my ass off when Harry’s bus left without Harry,” Your co-worker pats your shoulder as she laughs. In any normal circumstance, you would join in on her hysterics, but a small gasp leaves your mouth as your hand covers your lips.

“They left?”

“Yeah. They always leave in a rush I guess,” She replies to your question and then rambles on about the pranks from the crew. Your head turns back to peer at Harry’s dressing room door. You notice that the little paper with his name has been removed from the slot.

Everything was too chaotic for anyone to know where he was.

Now, that’s hilarious.

You subtly giggle as you and your friend trail down the hallway. In the back of your mind, you imagine Harry sitting all alone in the room. He probably had a valet take his car, so now he had nothing. You assumed most of his belongings were on the bus, and maybe that even meant his phone. Impulsively, you tell your friend you have to go to the bathroom and turn around. You head back to his dressing room and enter without knocking this time. Unlike before, he’s fully dressed with an annoyed look on his face. You tuck your lips inside of your mouth, trying to contain your giggles at his irritation of the situation.

“You know they left? Without me? How do they even do that?!” You can’t hold it back anymore as your laughter ripples from you. You cover the noise with your hands, but it’s no use.

“They probably realized they don’t really like you anymore.”

“Oh, ha ha. So funny, Y/N,” Harry says facetiously and rolls his eyes as he stuffs everything in his small carry-on bag. “I feel like this is the moment where you offer me a ride.”

“Mm only if I get something out of it.”

“Anything you want I can probably get it, let’s just go,” He ushers you both out of the door and when you walk into the hallway this time, it’s empty. You don’t hear a peep as you trudge through the carpeted walkways all the way outside to the secure parking lot. You get to your car and you both slip inside when you unlock it.

“You know, I expected better from you.”

“I will leave you here,” You glare at him from across the console.

“I can get you a car. Do you want the one I was driving earlier? The red reminds me of how ferocious you are all the time.”

“You mean the one that you nearly killed me with? No thanks,” You shove the key into the ignition and reverse out of the deserted area. “You know, you never told me what you were actually doing on your phone anyway.”

“Oh, I was looking at a video of my Goddaughter. She was getting her nails painted,” He smiles softly, recalling the short clip of her pure happiness.

“Sounds adorable, but that was still wrong,” He groans and slams his head against the heat rest. You smile smugly in satisfaction as you speed through the empty roads of LA, completely contradicting your opinion.

His bus leaving was like perfect karma that was made to humble him. Maybe Harry wasn’t the worst person ever. As long as you had the wheel.

—

tags: @crybabyddl @raajali3

#shawnxstyles #harry styles #harry styles love on tour #love on tour #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfics #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles enemies to lovers

1K notes · View notes

ereardon · 4 months

Text

Before I Knew sneak peek

A Jake Seresin pregnancy fic

“Ducky,” he said, dropping your hands. The familiar nickname on Bob's tongue brought forward a flood of memories: spring weekends flying kites in the nearby park, sitting on the back of a tandem bike with Bob on a trip to Florida to visit your grandparents, the fort the two of you made the one time it snowed two feet in Tennessee in under a day in March. “This is my squad. Guys, meet my sister, Y/N.”

You tore your gaze from Bob, looking over at the table he was gesturing to, a smile plastered on your face. A beautiful brunette with pearly white teeth and a tight bun was on the far left. That was Phoenix. You had received a handful of letters from Bob talking about her. Next to Phoenix was a handsome, bulky man with a mustache in a plain blue t-shirt. Wow, he was gorgeous.

Your eyes shifted over one more, breath halting in your throat as your gaze slowly crept up. First you spotted the dog tags. Eerily familiar, but then again, a lot of military guys wore dog tags, right?

Then the chin. Ridiculously cut jaw, slight bifurcated butt chin that you had found weirdly adorable two nights before. Plump, pink lips, puckered up in a grin. You felt your heart sink. There was only one thing left. You raised your eyes to his. Clear, seafoam green. An ocean in two small orbs. He smiled as you screamed internally.

Bob’s voice drew you out of your coma. “That’s Bradley.” The mustache man waved a hand. “And Jake Seresin. Hangman.”

Jake. Your stomach did a sommersalt.

Last time you had seen him, you had been teetering on the edge of drunk, standing outside of the bar with one hand on the railing, the salty ocean wind licking at the sweat on your collarbone, flicking the ends of your hair up against your chin.

The next moment, his tongue was on your throat, in your mouth, fingers in your hair, pressing your body against the railing of the deck as you whimpered into his lips.

You had crept out of bed before he woke up. Just a gorgeous, tan, muscular back sticking out beneath crisp white sheets as you tugged on your short dress and called an Uber. You had expected to never see him again.

And here he was, smirking at you as your brother’s gaze narrowed.

You had fucked up. Correction. You had fucked Jake Seresin. And that was a major fuck up.

[First chapter now live]

Tagging people who may be interested:

@blue-aconite @wkndwlff @joaquinwhorres @clancycucumber230 @djs8891 @seresinslady @dempy @dizzybee03 @bobfloydsbabe @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @katiedid-3 @na-ta-sh-aa @shanimallina87 @mycobrakai1972 @myfaveficrecs @yanna-banana

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #jake hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #pregnancy #pregnancy fic

309 notes · View notes

felassan · 9 months

Text

remember that wild Dragon Age theme park ride (Dragon Age: Flight of the Wardens), originally located in Dubai until it randomly turned up years later (now also oddly-rebranded as "[Not Dragon Age We Swears It]: The Guardian") in, of all places, Skegness England? well, I had to satisfy my curiosity and obsession with obscure pieces of Dragon Age media & archival thereof. and so - actually quite some time ago now - I finally got around to going on a pilgrimage there (which was this whole, like.. heinous harrowing in and of itself, that I will not go into), and I rode it

and to my surprise the original Dragon Age in-ride movie is still part of the ride experience! - complete with references to darkspawn, a Pride demon, dragons, green "rifts", Discount Anders (a Grey Warden[?] mage called 'Eldron'), Discount Yavanna (a Witch of the Wilds called 'Alexia') and Dragon Age: Inquisition soundtrack music. there is also now a new pre-ride movie which replaces the old Dragon Age pre-ride movie as part of the ride's rebranding, and i simply ?¿?

there are also still quite a lot of identifiable Dragon Age props in the fantasy-themed queue-area of the ride (so these must have been part of the whole purchase between parks), including multiple iconic Inquisitor helmets, Grey Warden shields, a Dragon Age dragon (now with DA-dragon identifiable horns.. sawn off??), and several Dragon Age banners, including the Inquisition hairy eyeball, the templar symbol and the Circle symbol. here's some pictures.

[^this image is taken from the video linked below]

I also captured the new pre-ride movie, and you can see it along with the Dragon Age in-ride movie here ⬇️. and so now, with this epilogue to the.. most odyssey of all time, more than two years after the first message about the ride was ever sent to Ghil Dirthalen, this adventure in obscurity and the strange fever-dream meta story of the Dragon Age: Flight of the Wardens era in Dragon Age history is finally complete.

youtube

Ghil Dirthalen: The Guardian??? {Overview. - Spoilers All}

[video source & link: Ghil Dirthalen, posted here w/ permission]

some further notes, thoughts and commentary under the cut -

there's a few seconds missing from this capture of the in-ride movie. for the sake of the curious and completion: in them, you're still in the fort and you see lots of 'Wardens' walking and milling around.

a camera in the ride takes two photos of the riders during the ride, which are displayed on a screen on the way out. you can choose to buy these from the Fantasy Island merchandise store. you know those photos of people on log flume rides? it's like those, only of the four riders in a row in the seats. the photos have Fantasy Island branding on them and fire along the bottom, then in two corners there's a bit of a dragon's head and that's about it. the ride photo is the only Guardian-specific merch available at the park.

some of the queue area props appear to be from random other places. like there was a barrel which had something like "1850 distillery" written on it, which is obviously temporally/thematically and universe-ly out of place (not that that's at all unreasonable given the rest of the rideworld lore, there's totally a way it could have gotten there easily hh, see below), and I guess it's a spare or leftover prop from a Western-themed ride or something? others were generic sword'n'sorcery fantasy props (some of these are from the ride's previous life in Dubai though). there are also some pretty random props, like a dead stuffed roe deer's head on the wall and a.. comically large spoon.

there's music playing in the queue area, but it's not DA music, it's generic ye olde fantasy world music.

some folks there mistakenly thought that the long themed lead-up (it was pretty darn long) queue area with the props was the entrance to or start of something completely different, like a haunted house or maze type thing, or was the ride 'experience' in and of itself.

the ride attendant gives you the option of watching the new pre-ride movie or not. I guess they get sick of putting it on and listening to it 9000 times a day (valid), and also cutting it out reduces queue times as it's about five minutes long. it's screened in a little enclosed room at the end of the queue area. you go in and sit down, they show it to you, then you go through another door to the chair machine.

the in-ride movie is blurry and poor quality. I heard someone else who rode it say that it was so blurry that they had no idea what was going on hhh

Now about the new pre-ride movie. in the linked video, the start of the new pre-ride movie isn't included in full at normal speed as it seemed to be a compilation of whatever random fantasy-themed stock footage the video creator could find, stitched together. but again for the curious and the sake of completion: it starts out panning randomly around SPACE, like at the solar system and of planets and at the Milky Way. for a sec I wondered if it was made up of random old Mass Effect assets. then it shows dragons (FROM SPACE) invading an Earth-like planet where I suppose the Ferelden-y kindgom (formerly called "Noathen", now called "Elvia" or something) setting in the rideworld is now supposed to be set. these invading dragons invade either from space or.. another dimension?? or maybe from the future or both?? [see below], entering through a big green rift. (and they still have the green coloring for the rifts and call it/them "rifts" like in DA, which was honestly so funny to me for some reason). the whole panning in from space start to the movie reminded me a lot of the Easter eggs in the DA and ME games that, while they're just Easter eggs for fun and I don't subscribe to this theory myself (as DA is its own great, self-contained thing), could light-heartedly imply that the planet with Thedas on it is a planet in the MEverse (like the krogan head in the Winter Palace in DAI or the ogre in that ME dlc).

in the pre-ride movie, the kingdom of "Elvia" might have actually been called "Albion", which is the earliest-known name for the island of Britain. (it was hard to make out exactly what the king was saying there) the new pre-ride movie seems like it was made in England and ofc thats a common fantasy setting, so I could see it, especially since the king character's name was something like Aethylswyth, which sounded very "Old English". for me personally, if it was "Albion", it adds fuel to the fire of Caitie's cracktheory/"trying to make this fit"-headcanon for the ride story/lore (see Caitie's original video on the ride's previous life for this), that it's set somewhere obscure and backwatery in Ferelden, which is kinda England- or Britain-inspired. (dont take these thoughts or other thoughts in this post about the lore/canon etc too srsly pls hh, it's just crack for fun and I know tis just an off-brand themepark ride)

on the whole the new pre-ride movie is pretty random. there's a giant in it, but it doesn't look like a DAI giant. (is it his big spoon??) it shows a fortress in part of it which looks a bit like Skyhold if you squint, with the long bridge approaching it as the entrance. at one point one of the dragons that pops up is a dragon designed more in the style of a dragon as they are sometimes depicted in, for example, Chinese mythology and folklore. the "communication device" the king described had me rolling, it's exactly like a Dragon Age Skype Crystal or a working set of eluvians from Thedas.. I wondered if the video creator was inspired some by DAI promo images and took cues from the Inquisitor's green hand/the Anchor, since the king has a green glowing thing on (or in?) his chest. and when the king started listing the elements humans are made of, I was reminded of Fullmetal Alchemist.

also, "through a time rift".. I mean technically Dorian's involvement in DAI DOES show green space-time magic right? Where is this other dimension? ofc I know it's not literally Dragon Age, but it's funny to think about and to try and make it "fit" skhskdhfjhe. is it the Fade? the Void? from somewhere in-between like Tevinter Nights implies exists? or is it the dimension which has Thedas's mundane world itself in it - like maybe the dragons are invading this poor guy's kingdom dimension from Thedas? if so what tf is going on in Thedas?? did Solas' explosion at the Conclave ripple through spacetime and rip holes in the fabrics of other worlds as well - like is Solas out here accidentally causing interdimensional Space Dragon invasions? like, theoretically.. the new pre-ride move does reference the in-ride movie, and in turn the in-ride movie is still Dragon Age (!), so technically the new pre-ride movie IS.. kind of.. weirdly.. canon.

((the pre-ride movie references an "outerworld", implying that even in THAT dimension there's an outer world and an inner world, definitely more than one at least. and back on the dimensions thing, I'm not clear - are the dragons coming from Thedas dimension? or are they coming to Thedas dimension? "they came through the rift, human in form but with powers, the ability to fly [that's Eldron] and the ability to transform into dragon-like creatures [that's Alexia]" implies that the dimension on the other side of the rift - if the helpers came through the same rift as the invading dragons - is Thedas, because that's Eldron and Alexia from the Dragon Age in-ride movie being referred to, and Noathen where they're from is in Thedas somewhere. so some Thedosians have travelled to another world to save it?? Dragons are escaping out of Thedas? but.. from space? but also - the narration is telling us that Eldron and Alexia and the other Guardians brought with them from where they came from, as a gift, incredible advanced technology that the people of Elvia have never seen before. he then gives the example of "this communication device" which could be read meta-ly as meaning the television screen, and of plans to build a machine made of metal and advanced technology (meaning the ride machine you go sit on, which is a themepark machine irl obviously and in the 'world' of the ride, some kind of flying machine). so like.. are Eldron and Alexia from Future Thedas (think Avatar Aang/Korra, when by Korra's time there's like lots more machinery and a more modern feel), a Thedas which has advanced complex machines like idk, AEROPLANES? is that what they mean by "time-rift"? because they specifically did say "time". is that to try and explain the modern machinery? does that mean the invading dragons also came from the future, not just from space or another dimension? the other option: Eldron and Alexia came from alternate universe Thedas, which has more modern technology in it. but Thedosians Time-Travelling From The Future And Also Space And Another Dimension is so funny to me so lets go with that. my headcanon is that on the way to Elvia they also timetravelled through a Westernthemed time period and thats why theres a recent-modern period whisky barrel)).

in the ride's previous life, the explanatory hook was that Eldron made you a special harness or saddle thing with which to ride a dragon, which was what the ride machine was simulating. however now, the hook to explain the machine is that it's a gift of advanced technology powered by carbon, hydrogen, organic matter (Big Oil lmao?) etc. (I enjoyed that this explanatory hook got wackier between eras of the ride's life, much like the whole meta story of this piece of media itself. it was already weird because riding dragons isn't really part of DA. though I don't understand meta-ly speaking this convoluted explanation for the machine. dragon-riding isn't an identifiable or key part of the Dragon Age franchise, so they could have kept the idea that you're sitting on a dragon's back and flying around on that in instead of having this wacky explanation about a flying machine gifted from magical strangers from Back To The Future and it would have been fine. I love it though bc its so absurd)

And Tiny Dragon Alexia from the original ride experience is kinda referenced (unintentionally?) when the king introduces the dragon "Guardian" "Mia", as when she comes on-screen her size or scaling looks small/kinda off, so maybe Tiny Dragon lives on. so now we have Tiny Dragon Alexia, Tiny Dragon Mia, and Tiny Dragon queue prop. it's a Tiny Dragon Conference.

and like I just have so many questions. in her original video on the ride, Ghil Dirthalen wondered at length where in Ferelden/Thedas Noathen could be. where is Elvia? why does the pov of the pre-ride movie proceed downstairs into the room where the king is - like why does the king have his throne in a basement? is he in an underground bunker for safety because of the Space Dragon invasion? why does he say we "climbed" up when we have just gone down into his dungeon? why is the tiny dragon introduced as "Mia" when the tiny dragon witch lady in the in-ride movie is called "Alexia"? does the king's green glowing chest thing work like the Anchor - does he have a chest Anchor.. a Chanchor? where did they get Discount Gandalf from the queue area and why is he exactly like the Ghil Dirthalen Stock Theatre Wizards in her original video? why did they change the kingdom's name from "Noathen" to "Elvia" in the pre-ride movie when "Noathen" was already non-existent in Dragon Age lore? why did they scrub Dragon Age from or avoid Dragon Age in the pre-ride movie but leave the whole Dragon Age in-ride movie intact? are the "Guardians" Discount Grey Wardens? is the king's whole schpeel secretly an evil plot so he that can use our bodies for like necromancy-alchemy? why does the ride run on your flesh and are we about to be sacrificed in a blood magic ritual? do we end up like the husks in Mass Effect after our organic forms are broken down into compounds to fuel the King of Elvia's flying anti-dragon defense tank? is the actor of the king a park staffer who is into larping, or someone's fun nerd uncle who likes DnD? does Caitie not in fact agree that I am very handsome and smart, indeed the World's Most Interesting Guy? 😤 why go to the trouble of sawing off the dragon's DA-dragon horns when the in-ride movie is still Dragon Age?? why are the dragons invading from space anyway like what do they want??? how can I obtain the king actor guy's autograph? where are EA's lawyers? and why is there a giant spoon?

#dragon age #Not Dragon Age We Swears It #bioware #solas #video games #lul #long post #longpost #gpoy #mj and the world #saveserault #mass effect #(shoutout to the DA Archivists)#thanku to ghil for her vids and for permission to post this video here #this whole episode in my life and in the DA fandom feels like a strange shared fever dream. was that real? am i? is Skegness? is DA4? r WE?#lmaoo #skegness the swampy ass crack of england #Fantasy Island - where dreams go to die (but fever dreams live on)#(cant believe one of the pretend Wardens from Ghil Dirthalen's Eldron's fake Warden cult was literally there irl at Fantasy Island. im ded)#and if u are reading this thinking wat the heck fel r u ok its just a rebranded themepark ride like calm down its not That Deep #i grasp ur collar and raise you that #in the time between dai and DA:D i have fully lost my mind #what dragon age does to a guy #while we wait for dragon age 4 this is the plot of dragon age 4 #on my knees constructing elaborate headcanons about and trying to make sense of a Not dragon age theme park ride #surrealism.txt

410 notes · View notes