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#but imagine this is a sequel to that
loganslowdown4 · 6 months
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Logan: Did you get the eggs like I asked?
Patton: Even better!
Logan: Wha-?
Patton: *reveals a live chicken* Her name is Fluffy!
Logan: No not- nO NOT AGAIN PATTON THE DOGS WILL EAT HER-
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jomarchswritingjacket · 7 months
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is it really a dreamworks sequel if a character doesn’t meet any long-lost relatives
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jayjay-thejet-plane · 3 months
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The Winchester Brothers and the Case of the Mysterious Pretty Pink Panties
…anyone else remember rhonda hurley?
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wxnheart · 1 year
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Your gasp caught in your throat as he pressed against you harder.
And god—god help you but fuck. Oh fuck—
You felt self-restraint in tight muscles, felt raw desire as hands grasped, palmed, and caressed your hips and ass. His huff of frustration kissed the crook of your neck and you could only let out a throaty laugh in response.
Oh, but the feel of his dick pressed against you...
My god.
You both were falling apart at the seams but YOU, you damn tease, you goddamn craving, his fucking obsession, YOU—
You fucking goad him. You beg him. And fuck if it doesn't sound like sweet music to his ears.
"Baby... Darling," you whisper, primal urge coating the air, "Fuck me."
He says nothing.
But a visceral snarl, flowing through your body like electric currents, told you everything you needed to know.
He's gonna deliver.
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zepskies · 7 months
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OMG I KEED A PART 2 TO SAM HAVING A CRUSH ON DEANS GF
Like idk maybe say Sam didn't listen to Dean and tried making a move on reader? Like ofc he wouldn't ever do that *I don't think* but in this hypothetical scenerio it happens
Hey hun!
Oooof, that's hard. You guys really like this angsty love triangle stuff, huh? 😂 I genuinely think Sam would rather saw off his own hand than hurt Dean that way. But this is like, the only thing I could think of on this one. 😅
See this imagine for context: You are Dean's one exception.
Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,100
Imagine: Sam crosses the line.
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Goddamn witches.
That's the last coherent thought Sam has, before his mind is no longer completely his to control.
Well, it's still his mind. His body. But the careful door in his mind and in his heart, reinforced with steel and chained shut with titanium, combo-coded, locked and loaded, now has broken hinges.
Thoughts he hasn't allowed himself to think for months are pried open, with a sick kind of enjoyment in pain.
You're his brother's girl. Sam can't help but love you. He wants you. And now, he might be able to have you.
The witch is dead, but the spell she just hit Sam with remains. He's not dead, so that's a plus.
"Are you okay?" you ask him, slightly breathless. You're the closest to where he's sprawled on the ground, so you go to him. You touch his arm, and he can't help but clamp down on your hand. He looks at you with the thinly veiled eyes of a hunter as he smiles. Because your concern reaches the deepest parts of him.
"I'm fine," he says.
But Dean reads the hunger in his brother's eyes. He's subtle in the way he grasps your shoulder and Sam's (noticeably tighter).
"But what happened? How do you feel?" you ask, trying to take stock of what you're all dealing with here.
"I uh...feel fine, actually," Sam says. He rolls his shoulders. His gaze focuses on you. Dean holds him back from getting off the ground.
"Get the book. See if there's a way to fix this," Dean tells you without taking his eyes off Sam.
Sam tilts his head at Dean, the beginning of an angry frown on his lip as you rush away to find the witch's spell book.
"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam asks. He doesn't bother to lower his voice. (He literally doesn't have a filter anymore.) "Afraid of what might happen when she actually has the chance to choose?"
Dean's lips purse as his eyes darken. "This isn't you. And when you wake up from this, you're either gonna hate yourself for even thinkin' what you're thinkin', or you're gonna have one hell of a headache."
Sam stares back incredulously. He scoffs. "What're you gonna do, kill me?" They both know that's not happening.
But that's also when Dean knocks him the hell out.
When Sam wakes, it's to you stuffing tissues in his bloody nose. He groans a bit. He looks at you and still wants. But when he looks down at himself, he's in the bunker, handcuffed to the war room table.
You look worried for him as you go back to your side of the table with the book. Dean is oddly nowhere in sight. Sam thought he'd be watching you (and Sam) like a hawk.
"Dean'll be back in a sec. He's trying to get ahold of Rowena," you supply. "But how're you feeling? What's the spell doing to you exactly?"
Sam rolls the kinks out of his neck and removes the tissues, even though his entire face radiates with pain. His brother once promised to break his nose, and he did just that.
"Basically? I think it took away my inhibitions," he replies. More like threw them in a blender and put his deepest, headiest desires into overdrive.
You frown. "Like a really bad bender, or a truth serum kind of thing? But why would he punch you out for that?"
Your gears are turning rapidly, weighing out all the options. You always were smart. Sam leans forward slowly. Noting your thread of wariness, his face softens. He doesn't want to scare you...
He sighs. "Listen...there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."
He reaches out a hand. You're looking at him in frozen surprise. His curled fingers brush your cheek. He leans in toward your face.
But you flinch and pull away.
"What the hell are you doing?" you ask.
Sam should've known, but it still hurts him. His jaw clenches. The spell takes away his self-preservation, however.
Just as he might've tried with words to finally confess the depths of his heart, the door creaks open.
The sound of Dean's heavy boots approaching makes him flinch. But Sam looks over with an unrepentant stare.
Dean glances at Rowena, nostrils flaring. "Fix him." He gestures at Sam before he joins you on your side of the table, resting a protective hand on your back.
Rowena shoots him a droll look. "Only because you asked so nicely."
"I don't need fixing!" Sam argues, glaring at Dean. His voice echoes on the bunker's walls. "You're just afraid of what happens if she knows the truth!"
Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.
"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest. Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat. Dean turns back to Sam.
"Don't do this, Sammy. It don't end well for you," Dean says.
"Like hell," Sam retorts.
"Okay, sleep now, dear," Rowena says. And with a wave of her hand and a haze of violet, Sam's world once again blackens.
When he next wakes, he's in his own bed. Not restrained. He indeed has a massive headache, and it's hard to breathe through his still broken nose. He groans and turns, and his brother is there.
When the overwhelming guilt sets in, Sam knows he's himself again, with all the careful walls around his heart put back in place. Rowena must've broken the spell when he was unconscious. Dean can see the truth in Sam's eyes.
"There he is," Dean remarks dryly. "Our giant Jekyll and Hyde."
Sam inhales deeply. "Dean..." I'm sorry doesn't quite cut it.
"She knows," Dean says, after a moment. "Obviously."
Sam nods, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He hesitates to ask the next burning question, because part of him knows the answer.
"It doesn't change anything."
Sam's head turns at the sound of your voice. You stand in the doorway, with your arms crossed despite the disheartened look on your face. Your eyes meet his, steady and sad, but firm.
"I know," Sam says, with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry...for all this."
"It's not your fault," you reply. Spell or no spell, the way he feels is not his fault.
You step into the bedroom and go to Sam's bedside, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. That hand smoothes up his neck, and your fingers briefly thread into his hair. Another silent conversation passes between you and Dean, the way only lovers that close can accomplish.
After a beat, Dean nods and gets up out of his chair. He thumbs at your cheek; it's both an answer to your unspoken request and an endearment. Then he pats Sam's shoulder before he leaves you and Sam alone in the room.
Trust. That's what that is. Dean trusts you, and now that the spell has worn off, he trusts Sam again.
Sam meets your gaze. As awful as he feels, he still loves you. He knows you know by the way your gaze meets his.
All he wants to do is touch you.
To apologize, and to touch you.
He hates himself.
You shake your head. "I love you, Sam. As my friend. My brother."
"I know," he nods. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry," you reply. "You just have to respect that."
"'Course, I do," Sam nods again. You would've never known, if not for the damn spell.
You surprise him by taking his hand. Yours is soft and warm and kind.
Always kind...
But never truly his to hold.
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AN: GAH! The Angst. You could bottle it. 😩
Want to know what that conversation was like between Dean and the reader after she "found out?"
Read It Here: You and Dean talk about Sam's feelings.
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Dean Winchester Imagines
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Dean W. Tag List:
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420
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terry-perry · 13 days
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Just Business?
Pairing: Alastor x Carmine!Reader
Part 2 to this imagine
Technically Part 3 if you wish to include these headcanons
Requested by @lokis-imaginary-friend: If you’re not averse to it I had a thought while reading this….what if y/n overheard this conversation and feels as though she’s being treated as a transaction. Idk I could just see some angst coming from this for y/n followed by whatever fluff you come up with.
Additional tags: @martinys-world
Fluff will come in a later chapter (hopefully). Enjoy!
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You walked home with a spring in your step. You were happy to find the perfect set of pajamas for your boyfriend. Alastor didn't require much sleep, based on the nights you spent together and he'd spend most of them watching you, lurking among the swamp in his room, or tending to the hotel. Regardless, you knew he wanted to look his best even at more casual hours like bedtime. It was great then that you found the red silk pajamas that were perfect for him, especially since you found a matching robe that reminded you of his regular attire.
It'd been about six months since you'd been together and things were going well. Now that things were public too, you enjoyed your time more freely. The fact you two were going out interested many people, with gossip of it being all over the news. Thankfully, the paparazzi weren't stupid enough to film your dates. They must've heard the screams of that one photographer who was bold enough to sneak a photo of you on a picnic date by the Lake of Fire. Alastor was sure to broadcast his torment over a rendition of La Vie En Rose as a reminder not to intrude on your alone time.
You knew the kind of man/demon Alastor was before you became a couple. You heard the stories as well as his broadcasts. You were there during the sudden disappearances of various overlords and how it coincided with said broadcasts. No sane sinner would want to risk getting involved with someone like him. Due to how more curious than afraid of him you were and how touched and important you felt whenever Alastor threatened others who disrespected you, you had an inkling that your sanity wasn't all there. That was okay with you; you were already in Hell.
Your mother approved of him as did your sisters, which resulted in another reason you grew to love him. He enjoyed spending time with your family, too, judging from how he'd come to dinner, joke with Clara and Odette, and share light pleasantries with Carmilla. You could see they were really warming up to him and vice versa.
You might not have tamed the beast, but it certainly amazed you how much of him you got to have for yourself. It was almost too good to be true.
You were finally home after spending some time at the mall. You don't know why your mother needed you out of the house but you didn't question it. She was sometimes wary of those who did business with the family and would rather let herself handle things. If she was still talking with them, you'd do your best to sneak into your room.
Upon entering the manor, however, you heard your mother say some things that made your ears perk up:
"You won't do anything unless you know it'll benefit you. It's why you're with my daughter in the first place, right?"
Her daughter? Who exactly was she talking about, and to whom? Her voice was coming from the library it seemed. You did your best to creep over and stood outside to hear more. What came next was certainly a shock:
"Y/N is quite a lovely lady with a certain sweetness and intelligence that I find endearing. If she so happens to come from a powerful family, then who am I to not want to get closer to someone who can mean a lot to me?"
You felt sick to your stomach just then. What was that; did you hear that correctly? He made it sound like you were just a pet to him - a mere plaything with a purpose.
A humiliating desire to cry swept through you, along with a small hope that your mother would put him in his place. She wouldn't take someone using her daughter lightly.
"If I were you, I'd do the same, I suppose,"
Now that's what brought out the tears.
What the hell was going on?
"You'll continue to treat her well. You'll continue to meet her, talk with her, and if it gets to that point, marry her."
Breathing became difficult as this unexpected betrayal weighed on your broken heart. Was this all just a plan between Alastor and your mother? Was this all a big matchmaking con that would lead to good benefits for them?
"You're smart enough to know that you should treat this like any other transaction."
You never thought your mother would have the gall to sacrifice your happiness for business purposes. She was always the type to lay her life on the line for you and your sisters. She did just that during the last Extermination Day when facing a team of Exorcists. To hear that the woman you grew up admiring treated you like a piece of property was too much to handle.
Let's not forget about Alastor! You actually believed he cared about you. Were all those times you went out on lunch and dinner dates, spent time with each other's loved ones, and shared intimate dances just part of a ruse to get you to fall for him? The fact you were nothing but entertainment with benefits saddened and embarrassed you because what everyone said about him was right.
You were right; this was all just too good to be true.
You now were fueled with anger and decided to use it to confront the two traitors.
"A transaction?"
Upon hearing your voice, Carmilla and Alastor turned towards the doorway where you stood defiantly with the Carmine glare on your face. Your normally well-composed mother expressed more worry than you ever saw her with. Meanwhile, Alastor kept his large grin as usual, but you could tell he was shocked due to how big his eyes were, and it almost looked too painful for him to smile.
"Y/N-"
"Is that all I am to the two of you?" You asked, blinking back tears. "A business deal - just a prize to be won? Is that why you needed me out of the house Mom? To discuss my dowry?"
Carmilla's astonishment kept her from speaking. She wanted to explain that this was simply a way to assure you a good future if you continued things with Alastor and that no harm would come to you, but she was at a loss for words seeing how betrayed you looked.
"And you Alastor!" You rounded on him next. The man you loved for half a year but now don't even know what to make of him. He's practically a stranger now. "I knew you weren't a saint, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to only date me for my family. I can't believe you'd use me like that!"
"Y/N," he began, getting out of his seat to go towards you with more emotion than you ever saw him, even with his smile remaining. "Sweetheart, you misunderstand -"
"You saw me as nothing but a prize," you uttered quietly, backing away from him with your head down. "You already have connections to the throne, so it's best to protect it with your connection to the biggest collection of weapons in Hell, right?"
His silence spoke to you more than any clever words he could conjure up for you. His silence spoke the truth.
You didn't stay much longer, especially since neither could bother to give you a proper response. You ran out of the house, ignoring their pleas to stay. You needed to get away and reflect on everything.
Alone.
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stargirl230 · 9 months
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Out there, somewhere
or: hey BB-8, ya like sand?
(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)
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yoisami · 8 months
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˚₊‧୨୧˚ SWEET ENCOUNTERS !
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[૮₍ ˃ࡇ˂ ₎ა]: meet cutes with your favourite bllk boy ! but of course, in a high school setting bc i’m a sucker for high school romance >:)
tags. isagi, kunigami, nagi, kaiser, reo, rin x gn!reader (separately), 1793 wc, idk what genre but no sad stuff hehe, first interactions, uh idk why reo and rin’s ones are so long lol, reader is called ‘pretty’ in kaiser’s, ooc mb ??, somewhat proofread ig
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ISAGI YOICHI — (deskmates)
it was monday when your teacher decided to switch up the seating arrangements, and she scribbled all your names on slips of paper that were thrown into a hat. one by one, your friends were getting paired together, and you were pleasantly surprised when your name was called with isagi’s name. 
you’ve never really talked to him before, and the two of you didn’t have any classes in common. but, you knew that he was popular amongst your female classmates—they often giggled over his smiles and compliments.
you acknowledged that he was handsome, relatively popular, and a charismatic individual, but in all honesty, you didn’t find anything special about him. 
but when you brought your belongings to your allocated desk, isagi graced you with a smile that reminded you of the violet petunias in the school garden as he motioned to the empty desk besides him.
“you can take the window seat. enjoy the sight when it’s raining—i think it’s quite pretty.”
in this particular moment, you were beginning to understand why your friends have always appreciated his character.
like a flower in spring, something about isagi made him...
“thanks, isagi. i’ll make sure to.”
...alluring.
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KUNIGAMI RENSUKE — (voluntary assistance)
given that your school’s volleyball coach had recently sprained his ankle and was now on crutches, your heart couldn’t bear to see him struggle to bring the equipment into the gym. so, as manager of the school’s volleyball team, you didn’t even have to think twice before providing the coach some assistance. 
but now it was your turn to struggle. to save yourself some time, you stacked two crates together and carried them to the gym at the same time. admittedly, it was a little hard—you were peering past the crates to see.
“h-hey! i’ll help you!”
confused, you looked behind you to find that kunigami was running towards you. behind him, you can see his friends following him from a distance, and he quickly removed the crates from your hold, taking them into his hands instead. 
“o-oh wait! i’ll take one.”
kunigami simply let out a friendly chuckle as he shook his head. “it’s all good. they’re not heavy. heading to the gym?”
considering that no one else has helped you bring the volleyballs, and you were just a couple steps away from the building, you genuinely appreciated kunigami’s chivalry as he waited for your answer.
“yeah.” you returned his smile. “thanks.”
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NAGI SEISHIRO — (project partners)
unfortunately for you, nagi was placed in your group for the upcoming group project.
“nagi? we’d appreciate it if you could also help us research.”
initially, you were rather excited to work on this new psychology project. but with nagi seishiro in your group, who’s only ever been seen sleeping in your classes, you’re not so sure anymore.
“i’ll do it later,” he mumbled, nestling his head into his arms. your friend besides you rolled her eyes, jokingly raising her fist towards him once nagi had closed his eyes.
it was infuriating that he was unwilling to cooperate with you and your friend, considering that this was a group project, and not a solo task. what put you off even more was that your teacher has decided to assess you all as a group rather than individually.
you weren’t going to let nagi seishiro’s idleness bring your grade down.
“we don’t have time to research later, nagi. we actually have to carry out the experiment next lesson,” you stated firmly. your vexation was stained in your tone, yet the boy refused to read the room.
adjusting his head to look at you, nagi yawned. “stop stressing out, [name]. this isn’t even worth that mu—”
“it’s worth forty percent of our final grade, nagi. just because you don’t care about your marks doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t care about ours,” you hissed bitterly, snapping your laptop shut.
as you slapped the briefing paper before him, nagi stared straight at you. “i hope that you’ll come to realise that a group project requires everyone’s efforts—and that includes you.”
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MICHAEL KAISER — (money’s on the line)
for him to win the twenty euros that were on the line, the condition was that kaiser must flirt with the next person who walks into the classroom for a week, strictly. 
and it was you who happened to have walked in after the bet was established.
“hey, [name]!” kaiser jumped off the desk he was sitting on as he approached you with a look on his face that clearly meant he was up to no good. “what class do you have next?”
you thought for a while before you returned to your seat, with kaiser tailing behind you. “history, i think.”
the boy simply nodded his head as he dragged a nearby chair besides you, comfortably inviting himself to be near you. “cool. want me to walk you there?”
considering that he offered to walk you to your next class, which is something completely out of the norm (you’ve hardly ever talked to him before), you gave him a confused look. with his tie loosely hung around his neck and the top buttons of his shirt deliberately undone to reveal a tiny portion of his physique, his appearance was enough for you to identify him as someone you shouldn’t associate with.
“...what?”
kaiser leant in closer with a smirk that was a trademark of his persona. “i’ll walk you to history. just in case you get lonely, y’know?”
“uh, no, than—”
“i’ll walk you. it’s not every day that i get to walk someone as pretty as you to class.”
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MIKAGE REO — (playing messenger)
you failed to contain your sigh when your female classmate asked you for a favour—to give her confession letter that had little pink hearts littered over the envelope to mikage reo.
when you said no to her request, her only rebuttal was that you seemed to be acquainted with him (you weren’t). but you’ve watched her hesitate to give the envelope when he walked past her before, and since you still had some sort of compassion in you, you finally acceded. of course, you asked for something in return: the most expensive drink from the vending machine.
and now, with her letter in your hands, you peered from the classroom door as you located your target. the fact that he was surrounded by a relatively large number of his peers made you choke on your own saliva. and god—you were going to look like one of his dumb fangirls who usually confess with a bag of heart-shaped cookies or a love letter (you’d be in the latter category).
slipping the letter in your pocket, you approached him and grabbed his attention by patting his shoulder.
as reo turned around, waiting for you to ask your question, all his friends grew silent, gazing at you with disparaging eyes.
“could you come out for a second? i just need to give you something.”
and he nodded his head as he left his friends with you. scanning the hallway left and right, you and reo stood behind the classroom door.
“here,” you murmured, passing the envelope to him. ignoring the amused spark in his eyes, you cut him off with a raised hand before he could speak. “let me clarify—this is not from me. a classmate asked me to pass this to you.”
reo chuckled as he flipped the envelope over. “you don’t have to lie, y’know. i’ve received many confession bef—”
“since it seems like i wasn’t clear enough before, let me say it again—i’m not interested in you.”
and with that, you turned your heel to retrieve the drink your classmate owes you as reo hopes to see you around these halls again.
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ITOSHI RIN — (athlete meets artist)
as a prominent member of the school’s art club, you were in charge of welcoming guests into the art room that the art teacher had meticulously decorated. even if you were slightly embarrassed to have some of your artwork pinned up on the walls, you took pride in your pieces as they were all a product of your passions and desires.
while the art room was not as popular as the plays and cafes that were set up in other classrooms, there were still a few people who visited with the intention of appreciating the intricate sculpture made by the captain of the art club.you expected your friends to visit (and they did), as did some of the second-year students you were acquainted with, but you definitely didn’t expect itoshi rin to walk in, mindlessly observing the room.
as you got up from your seat, you greeted rin with a polite smile.
“are you interested in painti—”
“no. i just have nothing to do right now,” he said curtly, passing you. as rin roamed around, browsing the drawings with one quick glance, his eyes landed on your painting. it was displayed right in the centre of all the other artworks, with a colour scheme that was much different from all the other paintings.
you struggled to hide your grin when rin paused to examine your art piece (you were happy to see another person acknowledging your art). “do you like it, itoshi?”
you pretended to brush off the awkwardness that embraces you as you’re met with silence. rin doesn’t respond for a while as he’s seemingly studying the brushstrokes on your painting. “what’s the point of doing this?”
you pondered over this question for a brief moment before you responded, tracing your fingertips over the edge of your painting. “because it’s fun, in my opinion. you can tell a story by creating an artwork using different colours and mediums, so it’s great for someone who might not be great with their words.”
“but doing all this...” he said, hovering his finger over the details on your painting. “looks like a lot of effort. i wouldn’t be bothered.”
“i suppose,” you shrugged, turning to face rin properly. “itoshi, you play soccer, right?”
rin finally looked at you, responding to your question with a terse “hmm”.
“it’s like you with soccer, i guess. every day, just like you, i’m also refining my skills so i can prove to my family that i’m an exceptional artist. then maybe they’ll let me fulfil my dream of going to art school.”
reaching for the tidy pile of art brochures you organised, you handed rin a copy as you spoke. “for you, all this may seem tedious. but for me, this is what i love. and i’m willing to spend years on this if it means that i can be one of the best artists in japan.”
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© yoisami 2023. plagiarism, translation and distribution of my works outside of tumblr is not permitted.
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bradshawsbaby · 5 months
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i miss him
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dervampireprince · 9 months
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youtube
ASMR | Baldur's Gate 3 - Astarion x Listener - Astarion Helps You Sleep [N!!SFW Preview, full version is on my sound!gasm linked at the top of my pinned post]
[M4A/M4F/M4M (multiple versions)] [Sub listener] [Established relationship] [Post-hug/confession] [Brief mentions of Astarion's past abuse, implied past SA] [Touching/fingering on listener] [Listener genitalia not-specified] [Vampire bites & blood drinking] [Praise]
So… I've been aware of Astarion for quite a while and didn't think I would have any interest in him despite thinking he was pretty and gender and had a nice voice. And I've slowly been worn down, I saw some art on Tumblr the other night, spent the next 3 hours watching all the cutscenes of Astarion and staying up way too late, realising I had misjudged him and that he's actually an angsty boy and I want to protect him and hold him, and within 24 hours of meeting him have recorded this audio. But he was so fun to voice, voicing him made me feel so confident. So I guess expect more of him? I know someone requested him this month, but I'd actually already recorded this before that request came in so good timing huh.
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Custom audio commissions are open! Full spicy audios on sound!gasm and Patreon. Downloadable versions and exclusive spicy audios on Patreon. I also stream on Twitch 1-3 times a week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]
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bees-draws · 2 months
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Had a blast reading @spark-hearts2's fic, Yeah, I'm Not Calling Her Mommy. I didn't really have strong opinions on her until reading this, and realized just how fun she could be as an ally.
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mads-weasley · 2 years
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Little Hen
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Wife!Reader
A/N: I'm obsessed...there's nothing left to say. I don't own any of these wonderful characters except (y/n). Enjoy!
Summary: Rooster takes his little hen to The Hard Deck to make memories like he did with his father
Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, like your teeth are gone...
(y/n) - your name
(y/n/n) - your nickname
(y/h/c) - your hair color
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(Y/n) sighed through the phone, stuck at work for another hour. "Bradley, are you sure it's a good idea to take her there? It is a bar after all."
"Yes, babe. Some of my favorite memories with my father were made at a bar."
She knew this meant a lot to him, especially how he lost his own father not long after those memories were made. He'd told her about his fear that he'd be killed before their daughter, Carole, even remembered him. She was now 4 and was just like he was as a kid.
She was adventurous, competitive, and most of all, a complete daddy's girl. The 4-year-old had Rooster Bradshaw wrapped around her tiny little finger. If she wanted a stuffed animal, he got it, and when she asked for a Hawaiian shirt to match him, (y/n) could've sworn she'd never seen him order something so fast.
Bradley had also formed the habit of calling Carole, "Little Hen" after her mom, whose callsign was Hen.
"Okay little hen," Rooster said getting her out of her car seat, "do you want to meet some of daddy's friends?"
She threw her little arms around his neck as he held her. "What about mommy? She's your friend."
He chuckled, swinging her around in a circle. "Mommy is my best friend, but I have other friends too."
"Whoa, Daddy. I'm dizzy." She announced, leaning far back away from him.
"Don't worry, hen, Daddy's got ya." With a content sigh and a bright smile, he kissed her cheek and opened the doors of The Hard Deck.
The room erupted into cheers when the pair walked in the doors. Jake, AKA Hangman, was the first to come over to the pair.
"Hangie!" She yelled, leaning towards him, her little arms extended.
Rooster handed her to Jake with a smile. "Hey, kid! Have you been listening to your mom and dad?"
She shook her head, glancing over at her dad, who was just watching the interaction. "Nope."
Jake burst into laughter, tickling her as she joined in with her own giggles. Rooster's heart was about to explode with love at the sight of his beautiful daughter. The only person missing from this moment was (y/n). She got caught up at work and couldn't join them for the movie night they had planned, so they decided to have a Rooster and Little hen night. He's brought out of his thoughts by Carole calling him.
"Daddy! Jake wants you to play!" she said, full of excitement.
With a sigh, he took off his aviators and gently placed them on her face as he walked towards the piano. The glasses were way too big on her, so they were slanted to one side, and they looked so cute. Bradley took her from Hangman and placed her on top of the piano. He stretched his hands slightly before playing.
"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain." he sang, looking goofily at Carole. "Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, oh what a thrill."
Carole somewhat knew this part, so she sang along with everyone else.
"Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!"
Her laughter echoed across the bar, lifting everyone's spirits even more than her dad's playing did.
"I laughed at love cause I thought it was funny, you came along and you moved me, honey. I changed my mind, looking fine."
"Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!"
Little did Rooster or his Little Hen know that (y/n) was leaning against the doorway, listening with tears in her eyes. They were the two most important people to her, and hearing them both so happy made her happy.
In the middle of the piano solo, she pushed off the wall and made her way over to the piano.
"Kiss me, baby." He sang
She came from behind him and planted a kiss right on his unsuspecting lips. Eyes widening in surprise, he turned and smiled when he saw who it was, continuing to sing.
"Woooo-ooooo...that feels good." He pulled her onto his lap haphazardly, making Carole laugh. "Hold me, baby."
By this point, he had completely turned away from the piano and towards his wife, muscle memory kicking in as he kissed her. "I wanna love you like a lover should. You're fine, so kind. Imma tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine-ine!"
With her mom's help, Carole jumped down off the piano and took a seat on Bradley's leg that (y/n) was not occupying. Smiling down at her, he continued to play.
"I chew my nails and I twiddle my thumbs. I get nervous but it sure is fun." He turned to (y/n), singing against her lips, Come on, baby, you're driving me crazy," then turned to Carole for the grand finale.
"Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!!" The group yelled in unison.
Bradley leaned down and dramatically kissed her on the cheek before kissing (y/n) lovingly. Carole jumped off his lap and ran in front of them.
"Daddy! That was awesome! Can we do it again?"
As Bradley sat with his wife in his arms and her head on his shoulder, watching their daughter have a moment of her own, he couldn't help but think of his dad. All his life, he just wanted to be like him, and his life looked very similar to how his did at Rooster's age. Knowing from experience that everything can change in a split second, he vows to take in every moment he has with his family.
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Saying goodbye to their friends, Rooster looks over, noticing that his Little Hen is finally asleep in (y/n)'s arms. He looked over to Jake, smiling.
"Thanks for wearing her out, man. It sure saves Hen and me the trouble of finding a way to get her down."
"I'm just doing my wingman duties, sir." He mock salutes, giving Bradley a hug.
(Y/n) waves bye to everyone, careful not to wake up Carole, and walks out to Rooster's car. He's not too far behind them. Approaching the car, he hugs (y/n) from behind, nuzzling his head into her neck once their Little Hen is in her car seat.
"I love you," he murmured into her neck.
She placed her hands on his that rested on her waist. "I love you too, Roost, but where is this coming from?"
"You're such an amazing mom, (y/n/n)."
"And you're an even better dad. Your dad would be so proud of you, Bradley."
Turning around in his arms, she engulfed him in a hug that he gratefully returned as a tear slipped down his cheek. When they pulled away, (y/n) wiped the tear away, giving him a sloppy kiss. She leaned into the car and kissed Carole on the forehead.
"I'll see you at home, Rooster," she yelled, walking to her car.
Leaning out his truck's window, he saluted her. "Roger that, Lieutenant Hen. I love you."
"Love ya, Cap."
Bradley rolled up the window and looked back at his daughter sleeping peacefully. "Daddy loves you, Little Hen."
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wxnheart · 1 year
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Velvety walls embrace him and oh fuck—
FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck.
His body tenses against the onslaught of pleasure, tenses as he resists the primal urge to let loose and fuck you without abandon.
Goddamn. Do you know what you do to him, baby? Could you ever understand how deeply you make him feel?
If you didn't then, you do now.
He feels so good pressed against you, sheathed inside you, heartbeat strong, and the sweet tang of sex in the air.
You gasp as he bites down on your shoulder, marking you.
Claiming you.
Making you his. And his alone.
You whimper and push back against him. You plead and gasp and grind against him.
He hears you. He'll always hear you, baby.
A feral growl rips itself from his throat and he snaps his hips, fucking you to Heaven and back, claiming you without a care in the world.
And you'll never belong to anyone else...
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zepskies · 7 months
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Talk to Me
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about his “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.
AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:
See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.
Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff
Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.
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“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.
He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.
Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.
“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”
He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.
Something’s wrong, you thought.
Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.
You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.
What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...
“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.
He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.
However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.
“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.
He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”
Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.
You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.
You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.
“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”
Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.
You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.
“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”
“We’re not going,” Ben said.
You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”
“I’ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.
At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.
But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.
“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”
He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.
You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”
He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”
You glared back at him, standing your ground.
You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”
You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.
“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.
“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.
This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.  
“What the hell is your problem?” you said.
He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.
He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.
The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.
“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.
You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.
His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.
“You need to take Compound V,” he said.
To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.
“Excuse me?” you said lowly.
“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.
“I’ve made myself very clear—”
“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”
You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.
Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.
“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”
His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.
“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”
“We both know that it does,” you chided.
When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
You looked up at him.
He didn’t want to break.
You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.
“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”
His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.
“I lost you,” he said.
Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.
But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.
Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.
His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.
“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."
He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.
“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”
Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.
You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.
Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.
You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.
“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”
“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”
“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.
A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”
“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”
Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.
It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.
Until then, maybe he could make one concession.
“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.
He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”
A slow smile spread across your face.
“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”
Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...
“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.
His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.
His smirk deepened.
“You do, don’t you?” he said.
You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.
Before, and after dinner.
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AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.
I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣
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Soldier Boy Masterlist
Main Masterlist
BMD Tag List (Part 1):
@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort
@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow
@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2
@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67
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fer3112 · 4 months
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I'm sorry to new fans but they'll never have what we oldies have: Ugly ass official character art and Rick Riordan threatening to kill characters while answering readers tweets
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rockingtheorange · 3 days
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If this is just a small peek of what we could've had for rwrb1, imagine what we'll get for the sequel 🥴
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