#idk man the plastic chair just fucking gets me

[sherbovania]

struggle. cope, even

#idk man the plastic chair just fucking gets me #suggested to me by a friend and to her i say: thank you king this was indeed a good idea #sherbo art #dmc fanart #dmc vergil #dmc5 vergil #dmc5 #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #vergil devil may cry #vergil dmc

[weebsinstash]

Do you think Nolan or Thragg would ever be a GirlDad (TM)? Like, I can imagine Nolan finding out his wife is pregnant with a girl, and he thinks he's going to treat her the same as Mark, but then he holds her in his arms for the 1st time and all of a sudden she's Daddy's Little Princess and he's teaching her how to subjugate her enemies during her "princess tea parties" and they're both wearing tiaras cuz "Please daddy?" with puppy dog eyes.

Hooting hollering howling and slapping my knee because I never finished the goddamn post but if you take a gander over here in my drafts

SAME BRAINCELL WOO WOO

That gif is his response to you asking when you get to date lmaooo

I almost wrote like something short for it, and I kind of am constantly bouncing around between "Do I want this to be short or long or what" but I can just imagine daughter Reader and Nolan going at it "you just don't want me to date because you want me to save myself for a VILTRUMITE man, don't you?! Humans aren't good enough, huh?! I'm 'too good for a human man'?!" And he just loses it and shouts back "you're too good for ANY man, you don't NEED any man, I'M the only man you need, I'M your FATHER!!" Like. Nolan is one of those super dare I use the term emotionally incestuous yandere dads

Like. Ok I guess this is a throwaway spoiler because I would be absolutely fucking shocked if they bothered to animate this, it's such a small deal, but like. Idk. Idk. How do I phrase this. "There's another character in the series who also has to deal with their daughter wanting to have A Ho Phase and Daddy Doesn't Like It" and for the love of fucking god Nolan and Thragg wouldn't let you date for absolute shit. No dating, no fucking, you are, their pure innocent sweet but also savage little fierce warrior princess and you are untouched by no man like the goddess Artemis to them.

God. Having a yelling screaming argument where you're just so upset, "OH YEAH WELL YOU KNOW YOUR CHANCELLORS SON, THE ONE I MET THE OTHER WEEK? YEAH, YEAH, I FUCKED HIM, I FUCKED HIM IN MY BED, IN THE HOUSE YOU PROVIDE FOR ME, HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, DADDY" and that's like OH MY GOD you've cut them so deep it's like actual fucking sacrilege to them. The EMOTIONAL DAMAGE. Fists are nothing knives are nothing bombs are nothing BUT HEARING THAT THEIR BABY GIRL GOT DEFLOWERED? It's like a fucking DEBUFF. Imagine you scream at Nolan about how you sucked off a Viltrumite HIS AGE and he just PHYSICALLY STUMBLES, HAS TO REGAIN HIS BALANCE, HAND OVER HIS HEART

And Thragg is, obsessively hollering about how you're the Grand Regents daughter and you're of too high status for any of these males, just screaming at you, "WHY DID I CATCH THAT MAN'S TONGUE IN YOUR MOUTH? HE IS BENEATH YOU" and you hit him with "YEAH HE WAS BENEATH ME, AND BEHIND ME, AND ON TOP OF ME--" and Thragg gets so fucking RED, I feel like he's one of those wall punching dads. He won't ever hit you but he might manhandle-grab you and physically intimidate you at times. Thragg can just give you The Look and you INSTANTLY know you're in for a punishment, or that he's absolutely furious, and you're on your knees, "Please Daddy I'm sorry I didn't mean it, I was angry, please don't be upset with me, i-i-i just dont like you being disappointed in me, i love you and i want us to get along 🥺" and like. Obviously it works. But. He's not mad at YOU, he's mad at THE GUY, so, as cute and effective as buttering him up or even just genuinely being afraid and pleading earnestly is, you're not his target. The guy's still getting, tortured and maimed or something. But thanks for telling Father you love him, that'll perk him up during his next planet raid ❤️

BUT NO LITERALLY ACTUALLY Nolan with his knees bent in a little tiny plastic chair nearly on the ground with his little fake cup of tea as he sits there having "tea" with you and your Princess Ladybug doll and he's all, "now sweetheart, what did we learn today?" "That if we defeat our enemies, we should also take out their family and their allies, so they don't come back for vengeance?" "Yes sweetie, that's so good, you're so smart 🥰"

Nolan/Thragg getting in a physical fight and they could be getting maimed and disembowled or taking punches and it's like whatever, they're still chilling, but, do some shit like, knock their treasured keychain out of their pocket that you gave them or an embroidered handkerchief or just a little personal photo of you they keep on them gets ruined in the scuffle, oh, oh, NOW they're fucking pissed, NOW they've got some serious unfinished business in this fight and their opponents get DEMOLISHED and they're sitting there pouting with their broken/ruined thing you gave them because even if they got a new one from you, this one still had memories and sentimental value

I feel like similar to parents keeping baby teeth, Thragg would keep things like, first weapon you ever trained with, memorial photo of your first spar with another child that you won, your first flightsuit, a toddlers toy that was crushed on accident because you suddenly got your powers and had far too much strength than you knew what to do with. And Nolan, if he's raising you on Earth with Debbie, he's at all your school functions, whether it's dancing or sports, and if you aren't in those things, he encourages you HEAVILY (it totally isn't. Training or anything or making sure you're staying fit and active for anything in the future hahaha). He's taking photos and cheering in the crowds. He wants your art in his office. He wants to play games with you once you get your powers. He buys a case for any medals and trophies to proudly display.

Also like do you have any idea how much of an actual phenomenon it is, I've seen videos of it, where dads basically have infinitely more sympathy for their new daughters when they already have sons. I distinctly remember a video where a man was holding his second-born, his first daughter, and he was like weeping because he was feeling intense empathy for his infant daughter because she was crying and looking at him as he held her, and the wife was filming and it was captioned "he never did this with our son" and like. LMAO, THAT'S NOLAN WITH YOU WHEN YOU CRY. THAT'S THRAGG SUDDENLY GIVING A FUCK ABOUT ONLY YOU SPECIFICALLY AFTER LIKE TONS OF KIDS.

Daughter Reader would definitely be their spoiled little princess but you're also their spoiled little princess under very specific terms of CONTAINMENT AND SURVEILLANCE. You've got curfews, they need to know who your friends are, what families do they come from, what do their parents do. They'll treat you like a princess but they'll also socially isolate you from others and. Basically control your life. And if you ever try and pull away from Dear Old Dad, well. Viltrumites can have some pretty extreme reactions. Will Nolan have to disfigure that boy you won't stop talking to? Will Thragg have to build a pretty little cell so that his adult daughter doesn't sneak out to drink and fuck unknown men? That's up to how much of an obedient faithful daughter you want to be. Don't make them do something only you will regret ❤️

Jfjfkfm EDIT; I ALSO TOTALLY MISSES YOU SENT THIS

No but absolutely you're sitting there in your little costume jewelry as you twist a barbie doll and wring her like a towel "for disobeying High Queen Princess Barbie" and here's Thragg, "that's very good. The chain of command should always be respected" and you just happily start chattering away in that "im a small child and I don't know how to keep secrets or lie" kind of way

"Then Teddy Mason from down the street chased me into the woods and I kept telling him to stop but he kept using a stick to pull up my skirt so I grabbed him by the leg and threw him up into the air so he went SPLAT when he came back down!!" And you bang your little hand down on your table and Thragg is nodding in approval and Nolan just comes in looking mortified because he has no idea why Thragg is there until he. Sees that you're putting all kinds of stupid plastic hair clips in the man's hair and even his mustache and giggling and putting stickers on him And Thragg Is Just Totally Letting It Happen. Just totally casual, "Ah Nolan, you're finally here" and stands up to talk to Nolan with you in his arms or on his shoulder or just, hovering around him continuing to play with all the hair clips while your very horrified father is wondering what alternate dimension he just stumbled into to see the Grand Regent so. Calm.

The two men go into the other room "to have a grownup talk" and are they talking about the invasion? About Viltrum? No, Thragg is demanding to see all your baby photos as Nolan starts pulling out all his photo albums with absolute glee

#yandere invincible #yandere x reader #sinprompts #yandere stuff

[piratec0ve]

(His Poison Lips) With The Metal Grip

The title makes it sound way angstier than it actually is, I promise this is almost pure fluff I just suck at coming up with titles. And I was listening to music and those lyrics just kinda made me think of the bit with the hook, and idk titles are hard man.

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: After losing power in the middle of your shift, you find yourself fleeing for your life as Foxy pursues you through the halls. But perhaps there's more to this encounter than you first realized.

Story under the cut! Also on AO3!

The posters on the walls were an incomprehensible blur as you raced through the halls, skidding on the checkered floor and nearly crashing into a wall as you slid down a corner.

You wanted to pause and catch your breath, but the faint click-clack of nails skittering not far behind had a thrill of fear skittering along your spine. Whimpering, you scrambled down the hall, turned around and unsure where you were going, just desperate to get away.

Usually when the power ran out in the middle of your shift, it was Freddy you had to worry about, the glowing eyes in the dim corridor to the side of your office eerie and haunting. You weren’t sure why tonight was different – but instead of the uncanny melody of Freddy’s familiar jingle, you heard running footsteps pattering down your hallway. Uneasy about the change, you stood from your office chair and faced the door the sound was coming from, heart racing and flashlight gripped in clammy hands.

Foxy appeared in the doorway with a screech and you yelped in alarm. You’d fumbled and almost dropped the flashlight in your panic when he lunged at you, but you just barely managed to shine the light in his eye sockets. The animatronic stumbled and seemed disoriented, joints whirring as it missed its lunge and landed a few steps short of you.

Panicked, unsure how much time that had bought you, you’d scrambled out the opposite door at your back and took off down the hallway. If you could just evade Foxy until 6 a.m., his free-roaming protocols would end and you just might survive the night.

Hearing his pattering steps rapidly gaining on you, the chances of that were looking slimmer by the second.

You skidded around another corner and froze.

A dead end.

Fuck!!

You whirled around and almost sobbed when you saw Foxy’s one glowing eye at the end of the hall, staring you down. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, you panting and Foxy unnervingly silent. He glanced slowly down at the flashlight gripped in your trembling hand, then back to you.

Shivering with nerves, you kept eye contact with him as you slowly raised the flashlight.

Your movement seemed to shatter the spell of stillness that had come over him, and he sprinted down the hallway. You were used to seeing the action on your cameras, but it was so much more harrowing when there was no door to safely hide behind.

Before you could manage to flick the button on your flashlight, Foxy was on you, batting it out of your hand harshly with his hook. You heard the plastic hit the floor and slide across the linoleum, vanishing into the dark of the hallway as the pirate loomed over you. Your stomach twisted like it was full of writhing snakes as you met his eye, his frame towering over you easily.

You saw the flash of his hook coming at you and screamed, stumbling back a step and tripping over your own feet in your panic. You scrambled away on your hands and knees, elbows banging painfully against the hard linoleum floor, but you didn’t get far before Foxy was on you.

His 6’2” frame caged you in, legs locked over your hips and arms on either side of your torso. His gaping maw was right in front of your face, giving you a horrific close up of his ragged fur and the jagged teeth in his mouth. Choking out a sob, you tried to turn away but the cool metal of his hook caught under your chin, freezing you in place.

You saw his head leaning in, coming closer to your face. Unable to turn away with his hook holding you in place, you squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to watch your impending doom come closer.

“Yer not s’posed to be here~” the gruff, pirate-accented voice of the fox crooned in a menacing sing-song right by your ear. The curved top of his hook pressed against your throat, cutting off your air and forcing you back until you collapsed underneath him. Breath hitching on another sob, you felt a few tears squeeze out from beneath your shut lids, trickling down your temples into your hair. Still, the pressure of the hook didn’t abate, and you were struggling to gasp in breaths now.

“Please—” you wheezed desperately. Forcing your eyes open, the figure hovering over you was a blur through the hazy tears clouding your vision. “Foxy please, please d-don’t—” You weren’t sure if begging would have any effect on the animatronic, but you were officially out of options.

Slowly, Foxy’s head tilted to one side as he stared down at you. The gesture brought to mind a puppy, and would almost be endearing if he weren’t pinning you to the floor, choking off your air supply. You slowly blinked the tears from your eyes as you and Foxy stared at each other, you struggling to draw in ragged gasps and shivering beneath him, and Foxy just.

Looking. Watching you.

You had no idea what was going on in his processors, no idea if he was drawing this out just to torture you or if he was genuinely hesitating to hurt you.

“Please,” you whispered again, voice cracking. His ears twitched slightly but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge you.

Suddenly, you felt furry fingers sliding through your hair, sharp claws scraping over your scalp and making you gasp, before that hand came down to rest at the back of your neck, pulling your head up slightly, forcing you to arch up off the floor towards him. At the same time, Foxy’s body bore down on yours, rough raggedy fur pressing against your arms where your uniform shirt’s short sleeve left the skin exposed. The weight of his endoskeleton did you no favors as you struggled to breathe, and you thought he’d decided to finish you off after all.

Hiccupping out a weak sob, your eyes shot back to his one visible eye, wide and unsure. Foxy leaned in again and you winced, waiting for the agony of his hook slicing you open, the sharp pain of his teeth crushing your delicate bones. The lack of oxygen was making you dizzy, spots dancing across your vision and making you woozy.

It made you wonder if you were hallucinating when the first touch of his muzzle came.

Rather than the pain you’d braced for, it was a gentle brush of his cold metal nose against your cheek, skimming along the side of your face. The fur on his cheek brushed against your face, rough but not too uncomfortable; you shivered at the cold as his nose touched just under your ear.

He was……snuffling? Impossible, since he didn’t breathe, but that’s what it sounded like. Like he was sniffing you, taking in your scent and puffing softly.

You didn’t understand, and you were worrying that you were going to pass out when Foxy abruptly jerked back, hook leaving your throat and dropping the hand that had been supporting the back of your neck. Your head cracked against the floor as you gasped for air, half-sitting up as Foxy sat back on his haunches, glowing yellow eye never leaving you.

As you slowly caught your breath, you carefully eased away from him until your back hit the wall. You wondered what had stopped him, but the answer came in the beeping of your watch.

Salvation.

You glanced at your watch to confirm – it was 6 a.m.

Your shift was over. Somehow, miraculously, you were alive.

Slowly, you looked up at Foxy again. In the moments you’d been preoccupied, he’d gotten to his feet and was standing at the end of the hall, about to disappear around the corner. You watched him go, wondering what the hell all that had been about as your heart finally began to slow down and you caught your breath.

The lights in the hall flickered on overhead as the building came back online after losing power, and you caught sight of where your flashlight had rolled to. Shakily, you grabbed it and clambered slowly to your feet, not entirely trusting your legs to hold your weight after everything that had just happened. You carefully made your way through the halls to collect your belongings from your office, dazed and uneasy.

It was 6 a.m., so in theory you were safe, but after the night you’d had the silence of the building wasn’t very comforting. The sooner you could get out of here and be around people, the sooner you’d stop feeling like you were trapped in a dream.

As you picked your bag up from the floor where it sat against your desk, you noticed something glinting on the floor, standing out against the dirty carpet of the office.

A single silver hoop earring.

Didn’t Foxy wear silver hoops in his ears? You kept your distance from the animatronics as much as you could, but you felt sure you’d seen silver glinting in his ears through the cameras once or twice when he started to peek his head out of Pirate Cove’s curtains.

Slowly, unsure why you were doing so but unable to help yourself, you closed your fingers around the earring. The cool metal against your palm reminded you of his hook bearing down on your throat, and you shuddered, snatching your bag and shooting to your feet.

You made your way quickly out of the building, barely acknowledging the incoming day shift workers.

The silver earring tucked in your pocket seemed to carry extra weight as you made your way home, never allowing you to forget your encounter.

~**~**~**~

As always, you were back the next night. You swore to yourself that this time you’d be more careful about your power usage, not wanting another incident.

Still, you couldn’t help quickly checking all the cameras first thing, checking where everyone was. The band was still on stage – not roaming around just yet. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

You apprehensively clicked over to the camera that would show you Pirate Cove. Chills raced up your spine when you saw the curtains already open, Foxy absent from the stage.

Heart racing, you skipped to your hallway’s camera frantically muttering, “No no no, not again….come on, please,” but you barely got a glimpse of Foxy sprinting down the hall before he was at your door with that ear-piercing cry.

Yelping, you spun to face him so quickly your chair almost tipped over. Barely righting yourself before you got dumped on the floor again, you stared at Foxy with wide eyes.

His tall frame took up the entire doorway, furred fingers clutching the wall of the doorframe on one side, hook biting into the wall and tearing through the paint, leaving a gouge as he stood there. He stared at you, and even though his expression was fixed in place, you swear there was a deeper intensity in that glowing yellow eye as it fixated on you. His entire body leaned forward like he was caught mid-lunge, straining towards you.

You weren’t sure what was stopping him from completing that lunge, and like a bird caught in the gaze of a rattlesnake you found yourself unable to move as you and Foxy stared at each other, spellbound.

Slowly, his head tilted to one side again as he watched you, unblinking.

Tension was thick in the air as you waited to see what he’d do, his presence bringing back memories of last night and even without his hook restricting your airways you found yourself struggling to draw breath.

Jerkily, like he was fighting against his programming, he suddenly took a single step into the room, towards you.

Without thinking you flinched backwards, the wheels on your chair sliding across the carpet until the back slammed against your desk.

In the time it took you to blink, Foxy had closed the distance, his arms shooting to land on the desk on either side of you with a heavy-sounding clunk, once again caging you in. You stared up at him with wide eyes, nearly hyperventilating as he hovered above you, staring down at you with an intensity that made you tremble.

You could scarcely believe your eyes when Foxy slowly – jerkily and unevenly like each movement was a battle – sank to his knees in front of you. Given how big he was, it didn’t do much to lessen his height. But now instead of hovering above you, his snout was about level with your face, barely inches away. You could see the individual coarse hairs on the fur of his face, the thin scratches on the metal of his nose. You could see the slight variations of the lights in his eyes, lines of slightly darker gold in the gleaming yellow.

You were so caught up in staring at Foxy, you didn’t notice his paw coming up from where he’d planted it on the desk. You sucked in a breath, startled, when his claw slid through your hair, but he was careful. Gentle, tender almost, as he brushed the strands back, away from your ear.

You felt heat sear your cheeks as you realized what he was seeing.

His silver hoop earring, dangling from your ear. You cringed and looked away from his hypnotic gaze, pressing your lips together in embarrassment. Foxy’s hook came up under your ear, in a barely-there caress that caused goosebumps to prickle along your skin, gently touching the earring where it hooked into your ear.

thump, thump, thump, thump

Puzzled, you glanced at Foxy through your lashes despite your embarrassment, wondering what that sound was. Faint movement behind the pirate clued you in.

Was…..was his tail wagging?

No matter how nervous you felt with him so close, or how badly he’d scared you last night, you couldn’t help finding that adorable.

Nervous, but not as terrified now, you took a deep breath and straightened your spine before meeting his gaze head-on again. You lightly touched your ear, just above where his hook still hovered. “Do you want this back?” you asked him, voice coming out slightly hoarse. You chalked that up to anxiousness at his proximity, trying not to think too hard about your rapidly fluttering heart.

Foxy just stared at you, that quiet thump of his tail continuing. You felt your lips twitch in a hint of a smile and bit down on your lower lip, trying to contain it. Foxy’s head tilted the other way, reminding you again of a curious puppy, and you couldn’t help being endeared by the action.

Suddenly, Foxy leaned in and pressed his snout against you, cold nose nudging against your jaw and you shivered as he traced his way down. Slowly, carefully that muzzle went from your jaw down the column of your throat, pausing under your chin where his hook had pressed in.

His ears drooped slightly, the thump of his tail going still, as he took in the bruising he’d left on your skin. Facial expression or no, he looked positively dejected, clearly guilty about hurting you. It made your heart melt, wanting to soothe him; without thinking you reached out, resting your hands on either side of his head. Gently, you pulled him back up until he was looking at you again, though he seemed reluctant now to meet your gaze.

You ducked down and met his eye, a faint smile tugging your lips. “It’s okay, Foxy, I’m not mad at you,” you assured him. That bright yellow eye flitted back up to yours, ears pricking towards you, and your smile widened a bit. “That’s right,” you cooed, “no need to feel bad. It’s okay.” You emphasized the assurance with a couple of pets along his cheek, sliding your fingers through his fur.

The arrhythmic thumping of his tail started up again, and you couldn’t help laughing a bit as he leaned in and pressed his torso lightly against yours, rickety frame leaning into you and resting his muzzle on your shoulder. Without thinking about it, one of your hands came up behind his head and sank into his fur, lightly scratching behind his ears.

His tail began to wag faster, and he pressed harder into you, making you chuckle. So, he likes skritches. Good to know.

Charmed, you pulled back, sliding one hand down to his chest and lightly pushing. He was heavy, you had no chance of making him move on your own, but as soon as you pushed he sat back and looked at your face, tilting his head.

“I have to keep an eye on the rest of the building,” you told him. His ears drooped, head dipping slightly, and you would almost say he was pouting. Suppressing another smile, you stroked your fingers through the fur on the one of his cheeks again, giving a light skritch, and he pressed hard into the touch as he looked at you. Laughing, you dropped both hands. “Really, Foxy, I have to work,” you insisted, carefully sliding to the side so you could twist your chair around to face your desk. “But,” you added as he drooped again, “you can stay and keep me company tonight. If—if you want to, that is.” You faltered a bit on that last sentence, suddenly remembering this was an animatronic and feeling a bit silly.

But he perked right back up as soon as you said it, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret or recant the offer.

Foxy made himself right at home in your space, staying knelt on the floor and dropping his head onto your lap. As you worked through the night, flipping cameras and closing the doors as needed, you would occasionally stroke the fur on top of his head or give light skritches behind his ears, which always made his tail swish wildly and press harder against you, like he couldn’t get close enough.

You found yourself smiling more than usual during your shifts, the company making the time pass easier, and before you knew it 6 a.m. was approaching.

Foxy was reluctant to part from you, that was obvious as he jerkily rose to his feet. Tentatively, he lifted his paw and lightly set it on top of your head, stroking in much the same manner you’d gently pet his fur over the course of the night. It made you feel warm all over, your cheeks flushing under his steady regard.

Clearing your throat, you reached up to your ear and pulled off the earring, holding it out in your palm and offering it back to him silently.

Foxy stared at the earring. Then at your face. His yellow eye flickered back and forth a few time before he dropped his paw from your head to take your hand and curl your fingers closed over your earring, giving a light squeeze before he let go and turned for the door right as your watch beeped, marking 6 a.m. and the end of another shift.

You stared at the doorway for a long minute, face red and wondering if it had all been a fever dream. Then you looked down at your hand, uncurling your fingers and studying the earring glinting in your palm. Pursing your lips, you put it back in your ear and stretched, groaning as your spine crackled and popped. Sitting in one position all night hadn’t done any favors for your back, but Foxy had seemed so content, you couldn’t bring yourself to make him move.

Maybe he’d come to visit you for your next shift again. Touching the silver at your ear with a faint smile, you found yourself really hoping you would.

Yes, it was strange, but Foxy seemed to just. Want affection, and it was cute. Sweet, even, and you didn’t mind his presence now that he was no longer chasing and scaring you. Shaking your head at yourself with a wry smile, you grabbed your bag and made your way out of the building. As you passed through the main area you couldn’t help glancing towards Pirate Cove – and saw a single yellow eye peeking at you through a crack in the curtains.

Breaking into a grin you just couldn’t help, you offered a wave before making your way out the main entrance, a slight bounce in your step.

Foxy didn’t need to worry. You’d be back before long.

#I DID IT #almost all in one go too #no beta sorry #foxy x reader #foxy/reader #foxyxreader #foxy fluff #foxy fnaf #fnaf foxy #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfic #foxy fanfic #foxy x you #foxy the pirate #foxy is touch starved #fnaf #foxy #i know og foxy doesnt have earrings #or a tail #but shhhh #its my fic so ill do what i want thx #i basically made him a big puppy #i have no regrets #foxy simp #foxys hook hand #pirate hook #foxys hook #give foxy a tail #and earrings #hes a pirate he deserves all the jewelry

[k9wa]

༊*·˚ COLLEGE CLICHES. featuring haruchiyo sanzu, manjiro sano, keisuke baji, ken ryuguji, takashi mitsuya.

∴ SYNOPSIS : sappy and stupid college cliches i think the tokyo rev boys would fit.

∴ CONTENT : highschooler tries to write about college, fluff if you squint, this is a little silly, gn reader (no referring pronouns.)

∴ NOTE : if u would wanna see this with a few other characters feel free to lmk! hope u enjoy :]

༉‧₊˚. HARUCHIYO SANZU — who is your lifeline in adv calc, when your teacher is the biggest asshole and neither of you are as good at math as you thought.

⠀

sanzu slowly rubbed over the skin on his face as his eyes danced between his computer screen and textbook, and he came to the conclusion he genuinely had wanted to just die right then and there. 

his professor was driving him absolutely insane; another old man with a stick up his ass, who he swore only took up teaching to make a bunch of college kids feel like idiots, and it didn’t help that he was shit at his job either. sanzu wasn’t built for school, let alone calculus, and every day he remained in that class he questioned what the fuck possessed him to take it in the first place.

he threw the cover of his textbook closed and picked up his phone, opening his messages to the only reason he hadn’t dropped the aforementioned course.

sanzu: this prof is fucked

sanzu: like seriously wtf is half of this shit

♡: switch courses i dare u

sanzu smirked down at his phone when you had responded so quickly.

you two had made an agreement upon meeting at the beginning of the semester, and quickly bonding over your regret for choosing adv calc; the first person to drop the course owed the other one $100. (a good chunk of money, considering you were both broke.) it was the start of a beautiful friendship, and an even more passionate shared hatred for the man you were meant to be learning under. plus, haruchiyo couldn’t deny that he enjoyed talking to you outside of complaints and 3am meltdowns over whatever the hell the derivative matrix was.

♡: or come study with me

♡: cus idk wtf im doing either

sanzu: switch courses i dare u

♡: kys come over

sanzu snorted to himself, swiftly turning around in his chair and throwing his belongings into his cross body bag. as shitty as his class was, at least he had met someone worth sticking around in it for.

sanzu: im omw relax

♡: can u get coffee on ur way

sanzu: what happened to please

♡: please haruchiyo my favourite man in the whole entire world

sanzu: drop calc with me and i will

♡: shut up tbh

it was worth a shot.

༉‧₊˚. MANJIRO SANO

— who hit a volleyball straight into your cranium and insisted he buy you lunch as an apology.

⠀

embarrassed was an understatement for what you felt.

it was like some terrible romcom, something you only see happen in movies with an unrealistic representation of what post-secondary school was actually like.

some blonde boy— one who you’re sure you could have gone your entire life without knowing rather peacefully— handed you a bag of ice, along with a neatly wrapped egg sandwich from the cafe he’d dragged you to.

“you sure your head is okay?” he watched as you pressed the cold plastic to the back of your skull.

“yeah, i don’t think it hit me as hard as it looked.”

“well, it did kinda knock you off your feet.”

you glared at mikey, and he had to stifle a laugh at the expression on your face.

“i’m sorry! you’ve gotta admit it’s kinda funny right?”

you used your teeth to unwrap some of the parchment paper and took a bite from your sandwich, at least the food was good.

“you nearly took my head off.”

“well it's less funny when you put it like that.”

you couldn’t stop the chuckle that slipped past your lips at how casual he was being, despite the context that you were two total strangers.

“seriously though, ‘m sorry. y’know i never would have hit you if i was playing soccer, volleyball is a shit sport anyway” the way he crossed his arms and pouted like a little kid was the slightest bit endearing. “i mean, why use your hands when your feet work so much better?”

maybe it was the spur of the moment, or the likely concussion giving you a skewed sense of judgement, but part of your brain was starting to like him.

mikey couldn’t explain it either, but a similar part of his brain was glad he had gotten the chance to meet you, though the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“hmmm…i dunno,“

he tilted his head at you, wondering where your sentence was headed.

“i think you’re gonna have to buy me lunch a couple more times to make up for it.”

mikey couldn’t help but smile, he poked your forehead.

“i must have hit you way harder than i thought.”

༉‧₊˚. KEISUKE BAJI

— who always throws the best parties, but never actually enjoys them unless you show up.

⠀

the pounding on the door of your dorm was quick to pull you out of your focus, forcing your nose out of your books. there was only one person who would knock so aggressively at such an ungodly hour, and he’s lucky your desk chair was becoming uncomfortable and you were planning on getting up to stretch your legs anyway.

swinging the door open, there stood baji, hair tied loosely into a bun at the back of his head, and two coolers occupying each of his palms.

he handed one to you, you gladly took it.

“so this is what you’re doin’ instead of partying with me right now?”

keisuke followed you into your dorm, making himself comfortable on top of your bed, you sat on the free space beside him as you cracked open the can in your hand.

“i told you i couldn’t come like, three days ago.” he groaned at your answer.

“i didn’t think that meant y’would actually flake!” you chuckled as you sipped at your drink, eyes playfully rolling back.

“you’re gonna thank me when this exam rolls around and i actually have notes to give you.”

baji’s lips formed a tight line, he hated when you were right.

“what’s the big deal if i didn’t go? literally almost half of campus showed up at your dorm hall anyway.”

he groaned again, yet louder this time, sitting up so he could open his own drink. he reached his free hand out to flick you right in the tip of your nose, earning a quiet ‘ow..’ from you.

“cus it’s lame when you don’t come around!! and who else is gonna take care of me after i blackout huh?” he took a long swig from the can in his fist.

“how about you go drink your body weight and i��ll come get you in an hour?” although the offer was tempting, and you could see keisuke consider it for a moment, he shook his head and flopped back down on your bed.

“nah, rather chill with you anyway.”

he reached over to hold his drink in the air beside you, and you gently cheersed his can, being careful not to spill any liquid on your bed.

“so, the hell is the exam s’posed to be about anyway?”

༉‧₊˚. KEN RYUGUJI

— who sits in front of you in engineering, and covers up the entire white board in front of you.

⠀

not one note.

not one single note in your binder was finished, all half written or only partially filled out. you wouldn’t have bothered spending the money on equipment to take cute notes if you had known some giant would be sitting in front of you. how were you meant to write anything down when you couldn’t even see the damn board?

at first he intimidated you, how could you not be at least a little afraid of a man who stood at nearly twice your size? however, that intimidation quickly turned into pure irritation upon another day of more blank paper, and you were following him out of the room at the end of class before you had a chance to react.

“hey, you.” 

ken turned around to see who was calling out to, who he assumed to be, him. 

“oh, hey—“

“you’re switching seats with me tomorrow .”

“…why—?“

“because you’re way too big and i can’t see anything past you when you’re in front of me! and i am way too behind in my notes to even hope to pass anymore unless i get caught up!”

ryuguji stared down at you, who was oh so short and angry, while blinking silently as he processed the words being said to him. it was surprising how small you started to feel so quickly when he had to crane his neck down to make eye contact.

“we’re like, two weeks into the semester and you’re telling me this now? i would have moved if y’had said something sooner.” ken chuckled and placed a hand on his hip, leaning down to your height with the most smug look suddenly dawning on his features. you opened your mouth to respond, yet only a jumble of stutters fell off your tongue. the irritation had subsided, and the intimidation was back in full throttle.

“i'll tell you what,” he began, “why don’t you sit beside me tomorrow, and i'll share my notes with you so you can catch up.”

well,

you supposed that would work. 

“my way of apologizing for bein’ ‘way too big.’”

…you really did need those notes.

“okay, fine. that’s fine.” with a small bow, you turned around to begin your route to your next class, eager to run away from the awkward conversation you’d stuck yourself in.

“thanks, um, tall…guy— whatever your name is.”

and as quickly as you came, there you went. 

it was about to be a whole other problem when the next day rolled around, and you would discover ryuguji’s terrible handwriting.

༉‧₊˚. TAKASHI MITSUYA

— who is your favourite study buddy, and knows your cafe order by heart.

⠀

the smell of freshly brewed espresso and slightly stale confections danced through the air, a comfortable aroma for mitsuya to sit in while he scribbled at a design that had been picking his brain all day. the headphones in his ears played some random pre-made lo-fi playlist as he sipped his coffee (—black, 2 sugars) that had long turned lukewarm, yet was just hot enough to warm his palm through the paper cup. the booth by the window he was slouched in was empty, save for him of course, and he waited ever so patiently for his classmate to join him and fill the space across from him.

the sound of the cheap bell above the cafe’s doors chiming alerted him that you had finally arrived, and he pried his attention away from his doodles to see you shuffling over to the spot you both had become perfectly familiar with, laptop in hand along with a knit hat and matching scarf keeping you warm from the autumn breeze.

“how late am i?” you plopped down in your seat, placing the tote bag hanging from your shoulder onto the seat beside you.

“probably,” he checked his phone, “twenty minutes.” mitsuya pulled his headphones down so they sat slack around his neck. 

you groaned at his answer, you hadn’t meant to have gotten so hung up with club activities.

“i’m sorry, this stupid– festival is seriously giving us a run for our money. i didn’t even realize what time it was.”

takashi listened to you intently, nodding his head quietly as he pushed a small plate towards you; a croissant decorated in your favourite jelly, as well as a coffee cup similar to his own, the only difference being the mound of cream and sweetener inside yours.

the action had become so normal, you hadn’t even paid any mind to the way he would always order for you anymore, having your order ready by the time you arrived to meet him was just the usual.

mitsuya truly remembered the littlest details about your coffee order, from how thick you liked the foam on top to the temperature. not to mention his mental database of the variety of pastries you would eat alongside them.

“tell me about it. what’s your club doing again?”

he remembered, takashi just enjoyed the way you got so excited talking about it.

he listened to the way you rambled on, the way you so easily talked to him, how you could do it for hours, and not once would he be anywhere near sick of hearing the sound of your voice

⠀ ⠀ ⠀m.list⠀ ღ⠀send me an ask!⠀ ღ⠀navi

#haruchiyo sanzu #manjiro sano #baji keisuke #ryuguji ken #takashi mitsuya #sanzu haruchiyo #sano manjiro #keisuke baji #mitsuya takashi #sanzu x reader #mikey x reader #manjiro x reader #draken x reader #mitsuya x reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev imagine #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #UNEARTHLY

[yikesharringrove]

Okay fuckers episode 5.

The sound design of this season is the best of all the seasons. They’ve taken some cues from the soundtrack of horror movies and I think they’ve created a soundscape that’s super intriguing.

Stranger things has a habit of going for body horror and gore and just. Not hitting the mark. They don’t make it gross enough or they don’t really take the time to show the damage. Like the kid that gets vecna’d over the water, they don’t relish those scenes of his body being fucked is when they should. I want these people to be having videodrome or re-animator level fucked up deaths.

(Merlin and I spent hours last night talking abt this and we were both saying season 3 would’ve been totally improved by upping the disgust factor in the meat monster by having it LOOK like it was made of body parts. Like if there were recognizable limbs and shit or if the characters made comments on the rotten horrifying smell of it. Think Tusk)

I also am just sick of cgi. What makes old school horror movies so scary and revolting is how real practical effects look. I know you can’t really crumple someone up like Vecna does without creating a fake body and that’s expensive and difficult, but it looks so much better

I’m still loving the scary vibes, especially the haunted house kinda thing but I just really really miss the season 1 low budget b horror energy. The show has lost all the things that made it really stand out to me as something exciting in the beginning

Notes:

I literally dread the moment someone in the California gang suggests going to Utah. It’s probably to use Suzie’s radio and I’m gonna throw up when they cross that state line.

Why is el constantly wearing like twelve layers of clothing

Idk this Nina project thing is giving me bad vibes

NO FUCKING WAY

Dude Bren we was fucking killed WHAT is going on I don’t need this I don’t want this

This man makes my fucking skin crawl “let us work together, daughter and papa” BITCH EW

Bro how many times is this child gonna be traumatized before I can sleep again????

Let hopper rest challenge

“I have a family, I have three kids waiting for me” YES YOU DO, JOYCE. THREE OF THEM I’m getting emosh

Eddie slamming his way through this house like he isn’t a murder suspect

NOT STEVE CURLED UP ON THAT CHAIR LIKE A LITTLE KITTY I love him I love him he’s perfect in every way someone please send me a high res photo of this (and I ignore my dirty laptop screen)

“Cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves”

Lmao Ted telling these kids to fuck off

Max literally listening to ONLY kate bush and ridiculous volumes that’s the vibe

HOLLY IS SO FUCKING GROWN WHAT

Loving Max’s shitty art skills

“Maybe the answer is somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing. God, we need Will.” I actually love this. How wills drawings were so important to figuring shit out in season 2 and max is trying to use that same process but she’s terrible at art bc she’s just a person love this I don’t know why it’s just making my heart happy

Nancy origami-ing this house together. Lowkey would’ve lost my shit if that had been Steve putting it all together. He needs a moment to be smart and I think something visual like this could really be in his wheelhouse. I’m gonna do a fic where it’s Steve that puts it all together

Also bc I could totally see him and tommy and Carol daring each other to go into the Creel house and shit (Ted bundy had a house in my home town and we used to dare each other to go to the porch and knock on the door and shit and Hawkins kids would totally be the same)

WAIT DID THEY SHAVE ELS HEAD AGAIN OR IS THIS A FLASHBACK??? I hate flashback story telling it’s so fucking confusing gd

Is this a truama response? I guess. Bro idk what’s going on

What is with those weird little shoes the older kids have on?

Okay this plastic face bitch needs to get out of my face I literally can’t stay him he’s like fucking Michael Langdon I wanna punch him

STOP calling her sleepyhead I can’t deal

I’m kind of here for this sucked up time loop though

NOT THESE FRUITS BURYING A BODY

Will is literally using a hoe to dig he’s a nightmare

Obsessed with argyle’s very real reaction

Lmao D.A.R.E. Officer will

I KNEW something was gonna be hidden in the pen these guys suck

Some of these Russian guys are super hot and for WHAT

WAIT SO MUCH OF WHAT I HEADCANONED FOR HOPPERS BACKSTORY WAS JUST MADE CANON him fighting in Vietnam (I mean that obv) but it being spurred on by his shitty father that ‘thinks he’s a piece of shit’ I mean. I’ve written shit where billy and hop bind over their fucked up dads and the way we REALLY could’ve had hop seeing through Billy’s facade I’m gonna scream

This agent orange story is so so fucked up and the way that this is REAL are you kidding? I’m freaking out

Oh rip Sarah

THEY DO NEED YOU HOP AND YOU NEED THEM IT GOES BOTH WAYS

I’m gonna cry omg

Oh Christ Chrissy’s mom can fuck RIGHT off

I have to say the music they use when someone sees the clock, and the chimes are like bassed up and slowed it’s really cool

Jason needs to fuck off i fucking can’t with him

Stupid fucking Jason writing reefer ricks instead of reefer rick’s

“Should I knock? See if anybody’s home?” Steve you just pried off the wood that was keeping this place boarded up

“I found a key” queen of chaos robin Buckley

Thank god Steve has the limbs of a giraffe so someone in this group could reach the knob

Okay but Steve’s blank look when Dustin “do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child”joe keery sometimes just goes so dead in the eyes sometimes and it’s my favorite thing in the world

Also “thank you” “you’re welcome” he’s my baby boy I love him

“Why’s this wizard obsessed with clocks?” Idk Steve why am I obsessed with you? Sometimes people are just obsessed with things

Let Steve hit Dustin over the head like real brothers would challenge

“Why’d you sigh?” “I didn’t sigh, just come on dude” love Steve playing this off like it wasn’t the biggest most dramatic sigh in the whole world

We had a very similar lamp in my childhood home lol

THIS CONVO ABOUT MURRAY’S KARATE CLASS IM OBSESSED Jeremiah is my new favorite side character

If I have to hear this whore say “well well…” I’m gonna go on a murder spree

These flashes between cgi little el and old el is making my vertigo act up

“Good morning children” “good morning Miss Hannigan”

Brenner can choke on the biggest fattest dick

Sensory deprivation tanks are one of my biggest fears ngl

Argyle is the queer that can’t drive we all needed in this show

no. No no no no NO olease DONT please don’t

They showed that map of Utah and I ralphed

Will singing never ending story lub him

Eddie looks like if Alex Horne and Erin mcgehey had a child

This fucker that wears a trucker hat everywhere, even while wearing a suit is such a douchebag jock vibe I love

Why do NONE of my green colored pencils function FUCK

“If there’s a spider nesting in there you’re never gonna find it u too it lays eggs and all the babies spill out” ROBIN PLEASE

I love Steve constantly being like “we’re friends we’re friends we’re friends” and saying how he WOULD date robin but she wouldn’t date him. I hate that he and Nancy are sniffing around one another but he makes it very clear that he doesn’t think he’s too good for Robin or that she’s not attractive, but that she actually wants nothing more than platonic with him without outing her. I just think it’s very sweet

STEVE STARTED TO TRY TO QUOTE THE SHERLOCK HOLMES QUOTE DUSTIN SAID QND I HAD TO LEAVE THE ROOM HES SO EMBARRASSING

And then he just walks away he’s such a baby such a baby

Kate bush will NEVER lose her magic powers that wuthering heights video is fucking amazing

Lucas being a lil dork I’m so so glad he’s a real character again after last season

I think the sound design is my favorite of all the seasons. The clock noise is cool and the way they’re using running up that hill to play quietly and distorted in certain scenes is really interesting

This whole flashback is like some umbrella academy rip off shit

Not them vying for brenners pocket taffy

Anytime this gross waxwork lookin bitch speaks I am filled with unspeakable rage

Bro where’s Kali in all these flashbacks??? I’ve been honking that since the beginning that first flashback really bothered me bc of all the kids besides 11 were killed how did Kali survive/did she escape earlier than that when she was like 4???? I hate it

“My fingers are like arrows!” The theatre if it all what a whore I love Murray

The karate has really payed off good for you dude

And then Murray and Joyce were frozen for sixty years like captain America

Yes Steve being the Scooby gang leader for five seconds loml

Eddie I promise you can paddle faster than he can swim

If Vecna can fuck with the flashlights he could totally fuck with the Walkman too

Lmao Eddie falling overboard

Good job girl FUCK brenner I hate him I hate him

Why did they reshave els head??? I don’t get it and bc it’s a wig it makes her head look oddly shaped

“Papa” “daughter” 🤢

#also I just tried to spell apocalypse as ‘apocylyspse’ so that’s how my nights going #yikes talks #st4 #stranger things spoiler #strangerthingsspoilers #I’m probably gonna stop tagging spoilers come Friday since it’ll be 2 weeks since release

[honking-up-a-storm]

6/26/23

Hello book it is grossly humid out today. Handicap lot is decently full so I'll prob be a bit busy today, though the main lot is pretty- and yup just got one there. I have no idea what breed that was, little shield symbol in a circle with some patterning. Oh, it's a Cadillac. I don't wanna keep writing here, I wanna read my book. Augh I don't like feeling sticky. I'm waiting on so much mail to get to me. Can't wait for my chair that's gonna be so lovely to have something not broken and actually cushioned. Doing a lineup of the War of the Spider Queen characters would be cool for a portfolio piece, now how come I can spell pie- wait never mind I can't, I need to relearn words or something SMH. Slow hour slow hour. I'll take more sit breaks today so I don't kill my back. I wanna be drawing so badly right now man. So many ideas. Have to pop out a commission, but I wanna make a cute picture of Cicero and Isadora; make the new De Rossi kids. I think it'll be funny to make Gwen a little bratty, queen bee kinda energy, fun person for Crisis to bud heads with. Ozma and Astarte can have tism to tism moments together. What if I did just bought one luxury item? Like some LV sunglasses or something. Idk it'd be funny for a minute then I'd go straight to stressing about how expensive plastic was. I don't get putting so much value on easy and cheap-to-produce items. You know what I'd kill for a new wardrobe right now. If I take this week's tip money with the stash I already have I could do some serious damage online. Though I miss the mall maybe I can find someone to go with. I'm gonna text the girliesssss. Oh I can use the slot in my drawer to stash my tips. Big brain big brain today. Why don't people listen to me? Fuckin' squeezed herself into someone else's parking spot, now if they won't be able to get into their car for fucks sake. The money is gonna be good today. Today is going slow this isn't good. Dreams come true finally drove a punch buggy! TBH why don't I just use a bigger sketchbook? I have many, I could actually draw in.

Notes:

Another cookie gift from the nurse

{ Doodle of two anthro unicorns in a car, the one in the passenger seat smaller than the driver, both cheering "punch buggy"}

Punch buggy dreams slightly shattered, breaks too sensitive, too low, too many blind spots, door too big

It's fucking Mario, it's the most common interest besides Disney

{ two crudely drawn one-line cars} They don't look good. That's not the point

[evansbby]

i’m just thinking about how dark!ari punishing brat!reader by instructing her to be completely still on her knees and hands and he just uses her as a table for hours…..while she has a vibrating plug in her ass….

LISTEN it's midnight and i just got home from work but this ask has got me LIKEEE ksafjklasj ok ok let's see....

WARNING: NON CON, DADDY KINK, DEGRADATION UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"Y-You can't do this." Hatred drips from every word you speak, and you look up at him with the most venomous look you can muster up - yet you still can't help but stutter. It's because he's so intimidating, with his fucking huge, ripped body looming over you, that fucking shit-eating grin on his face.

"What are you gonna do to stop me, huh?" Ari smirks down at you, the tip of his boot stroking your cheek lightly. It's almost a caress with how soft it is, but the degrading nature of the action makes you want to rip your hair out.

You hate Ari with every fibre of your being. He's the bane of your existence. From the moment he sauntered into the tiny bistro cafe you work at and took a liking to you, and every moment after that; he'd help himself to touching you however he pleased, whenever he pleased.

Brushing against you when you walked by - just trying to do your job - to lewdly squeezing your ass in front of customers, to staying until the cafe was closed, acting like he owned the place... Acting like he owned you. And then you'd made the mistake of yelling at him, shoving him, losing you temper at him and demanding he get out.

And that's how you'd ended up in your current position. In the back office - Ari sitting on your boss's chair as if he was the boss, with you at his feet. And you don't even really understand how you let yourself get in this position - except that he's just so much bigger than you, so much stronger.

"Don't act like you don't love this, princess." Ari says, his hand palming his dick from over his jeans as he gazes hungrily down at you. "It was a bit too easy to rip those clothes off of you, to get you naked and on your hands and knees for me. You act all tough but you want this. You just didn't have to disrespect daddy on the way to getting what you want."

"You're an asshole!" You sob, the tears welling in your eyes are borne out of both anger and embarrassment.

"You love it." Ari sneers. "You're so fucking wet, I can smell it from up here. Now be a good little slut and stay still, and maybe I'll let you off your knees in a few minutes."

"Fuck you!" You cry, knees hurting almost as much as your ego. His blue eyes narrow, and he roughly runs his hand through his unruly hair that flops down on his face.

"You're acting too fucking feisty for someone who's about to get their ass all plugged up." Ari says it almost too casually, and you barely have time to register what he's said before his huge arms are mauling you upwards, hoisting you over his lap and giving your ass a few playful slaps along the way.

"LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKING JERK, FUCK YOU!" You scream, but you can't help but rut against the denim of his jeans. You hate him, but he's so fucking big, so manly, so virile. You'd never tell him, but he ticks every box you look for in a man. And he makes you so fucking wet.

"Princess doesn't know when to shut her fucking mouth," Ari tut-tuts, the disapproval mixed with pure lust evident in his tone. You gasp inwardly when you feel his large, calloused hands spreading your ass cheeks, letting out a ragged cry when you feel something cold and plastic pressing into your puckered hole.

"Luckily for you, daddy knows exactly how to solve the problem.

(a/n: IDK WHERE THIS CAME FROM BYE.)

#ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #dark steve rogers #LISTEN WHEN I FIRST READ THE TABLE PART IWAS LIKE SKFANL WHAT HE GONNA DO EAT SUSHI OFF HER #THIS IS JUST BRAIN ROT BTW IDEK I'M DELIRIOUS #also lowkey happy someone sent me an ask about ari likeee #i really wanna write a full one shot about dark ari but I FEEL LIKE I WOULDNT DO HIM JUSTICE #HES SO FUCKIGN HOT BYE #anon #drabble #this is a drabble? idek

[marquisoforder]

Ranking the Nine Princes of Hell from TSC from the least to most sexy

(Technically 8 cause Lucifer is just a chair but eh)

8) Coming in at dead last we have Asmodeus cause I hate this generic white man energy he’s giving here. He’s the demon of Lust cause the only way he could get bitches was by tricking and manipulating them. He’s serving Frankenstein’s Monster had a baby with a CEO from a yaoi hentai realness here. The Worst of the Demons? More like the Worst Dressed of the demons! Black tie with a white suite? 🤮Sir are you out of your goddamn mind? Did Raphael bonk you on the head until your fashion sense left? -1/10 you are simply hideous sir

7) Coming in at number 7 we have Mammon looking like Jeff Bezos’s capitalistic wet dream. How are you literally all about money but still look tacky as hell? This man shows up to the MET Gala in a tux with no effort whatsoever I can just feel it in my bones. All these eyes but you still couldn’t locate a better fit. I was gonna ask why he looks constipated but then I read the part where he eats blood and gold for every meal so he’s obviously suffering from indigestion. (And it shows king, it really shows) 0/10 - Do fucking better and get a plastic surgery or a proper diet with all the money you are hoarding up

6) At number six we’ve got Belphegor. Honestly I’d have ranked him much higher if it wasn’t for the goat skull situation going on there like what’s up with that king? Is this a political statement? Or are you just taking covid precautions? Either way I can’t rank you higher than six with that face. (Even tho the body is definitely 1. Like you mean to tell me a demon with abs like those is the demon of laziness? He ain’t lazy if he’s grinding in the gym which he apparently is cause he’s legit shredded.) also kinda cute that you were married to a mortal. Maybe if they pegged you you wouldn’t have denounced the institution of marriage. (Try it next time. I’m certainly up if you are 👀 haha jk unless 😳) 5/10 - Sorry about your goat head

5) On the position of number five we have the one and only Leviathan! He’s not a fallen angel! He’s not like other girls! He’s edgy, he’s sensitive, he’s sad, nobody understands him. He kins Ebony Dementia Darkness Raven Way. But in a sexy way. I like what you’ve done with the hair. Paired with completely black eyes he’s essentially the perfect Scene Boy™️ from back in the day. He would have been Tumblr famous. Even now he has the capacity to become one of Tumblr’s sexy man (derogatory) cause he has the same vibe as Jotun Loki. 6/10 - No Comments cause I’m worried he might actually just eat me.

4) Belial is number four cause while he’s definitely good looking there’s something about him that screams I’d Mansplain Your Own Period To You. Probably invested in Bitcoin and trying to overheat the planet to death. Not gonna lie whatever he’s doing with his hands is actually giving model, it’s giving Timothy chalamet, it’s giving white boy who paints nails and wears rings and doesn’t shut up about it. The hair is actually really cool and I wish my hair looked that effortlessly good. Whatever hair products you stole from Brad Mondo, I want some rn 😤 6.5/10 - idk still kinda basic tho

3) Moving on to the top three we have Azazel! I liked him when we saw him in TMI. He’s giving fuck boy archie andrews here. Probably says baby girl unironically. Are his pants sagging or are they two toned? That’s a secret he’ll never tell. The reason he was cast down from hell is actually because god was jealous of that one lock of hair that falls perfectly across his forehead. His nails are done, his hair is perfect, his abs look rock hard. All in all has that all-American rugged good looks to him. 7/10- red hair actually looks good on you king keep it up

2) Our runner up is none other than Astaroth! Look at that serve! Look me in the eyes and tell me this man doesn’t belong on the cover of a cheap erotica novel about fallen angels!!! The glance downwards, the wings bared, the contrast of the red cloth with the black wings!! He did not come to play because for Astaroth, the world is a runaway and he’s a model. The luscious hair and the sexy torso scars truly sets this man apart. I’m not big on selling my soul but for you king, I’d fr put that shit on eBay for 50 cents. You think you were misjudged and pleads your case? Lemme be your defense attorney king, I’ll fight God in a Denny’s parking lot for you no questions asked. 9/10 - Unlike Belphegor I still believe in the institution of marriage so ahahaha 👀😌 iykwim

1) And finally our top boy from Hell is… none other than Samael himself! That cute lil feather on the hat paired with that Jack sparrow red scarf really shows he knows how to work a fit. The rolled up sleeves got me 👀 at his forearms like I’m a Victorian man seeing a bit of ankle. This demon legit looks like a man young Taylor Swift would write a song about. He’s young, he’s hip, he probably has a fashion tiktok and does mad transitions from outfit to outfit. 10/10 wouldn’t do this man’s sexiness justice cause he’s simply too sexy for such a trivial scale.

#the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #princes of hell #cassandra clare #shadowhunters #asmodeus #astaroth #samael #bilael #mammon #belphegor #leviathan #azazel #the mortal instruments #the infernal devices #magnus bane #jace herondale #tessa Carstairs #malec

[kiribakuhappiness]

This is my first time sending you a message but I've read literally almost all your fics and I can't stop thinking about how you would do krbk first times? Like, first hand holding... first kiss.... first handjob, like a 5+1 kinda thing? Idk how comfortable you are with posting that stuff but I know it would be great ❤️❤️ -tilly ❤️❤️

5 times Kirishima and Bakugou try something new together?? I am totally gonna expand this into a full one-shot but for now, have a nice little preview <3

"Hang on," Kaminari jolts upright from where he had been laying across Kirishima's camouflage comforter to eye skeptically in the direction of the bean bag chair in the corner of the room. "Are you actually being serious right now?"

"Hah?!" Bakugou snarls and sinks further down into the plastic-like material, tightening his arms across his chest as though that might help to physically block out the other's stupidity. "The fuck would I lie about somethin' like that for? It's damn stupid anyway! Why the hell are we even talkin’ about this dumb shit?!"

"I've got to agree with Bakugou on this one, man," Sero cuts in from where he casually leans his shoulder against the doorframe with a sharp smile and a loose shake of his head. "The fact that you'd think that anyone would have been able to get close enough to kiss him in the first place without suffering a horribly brutal death is pretty naïve of you... unless. Does his mom count, or?”

Bakugou grits his teeth at that statement before his fingers find the discarded pillow lying on the floor beside him and he flings it in the direction of the doorway. Sero just barely manages to catch it before it has the chance to 'thump' against his chest, beaming a wide grin and laughing like he’s just told an incredibly hilarious top-notch joke.

Kaminari flaps a dismissive hand at the pair of them with a roll of his eyes as he thuds back down onto the mattress before he turns his attention to something else on the other side of the room. “What about you, Kirishima?”

Silence answers them from the figure hunched over at the desk. He might have been too preoccupied with his homework to have heard them; if his pencil wasn’t hanging unused in his limp hand.

“Hello? Earth to Kirishima?” Sero tosses the pillow that he had been assaulted with at Kirishima’s back, who - despite having the world’s most defensive quirk - flinches against the attack before he swings around to blink at them as though he had completely forgotten that they were even in his room.

“Huh?” he asks dumbly, twirling his pencil round and round between his fingers.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Kaminari reiterates his question with his hands behind his head and a curiously quirked brow. “I feel like you must have, right? You’re like the golden boy of Yuuei High. I’m pretty sure every girl in our class has had a crush on you at some point or another.”

Kirishima blinks at the group of them again, still rotating his pencil in a restless manner while the sides of his neck tinge with deep color. He turns back around in his seat as though he were determined to give his homework the undivided attention that it truly deserves, shoulders scrunching up defensively to the tips of his flushed ears.

“Uhh...” he hesitates further, and if he’s not careful, he’ll probably break that flimsy pencil of his clean in two.

“Okay, I can tell that whatever you’re about to say is a lie, so don’t even bother,” Kaminari interrupts him with an amused snicker.

“EXCUSE ME!” Iida has suddenly appeared in the hallway somewhere over Sero’s shoulder, dressed in his pajamas with a hand chopping in an exaggerated manner while he frowns at them with obvious disapproval. “There is a strict bedtime that you must be adhering to while you are living in the dorm building! It is in place to ensure that you get an amble amount of sleep so that you will be refreshed, alert, and prepared for class tomorrow morning! Please go back to your own dorms on your own floors immediately!”

“Gee, talk about being a major buzzkill,” Kaminari snarks under his breath with a pained grimace.

Sero raises a placating hand in Iida’s direction and beams another one of his sharp smiles at him. “No worries, class prez. We hear you loud and clear.”

“Thank you! Please head out in a timely fashion,” Iida demands some more before he turns on the heels of his slippers and starts off back to his own room. “But remember, do not run!”

Sero chuckles under his breath while he watches him go, and Kaminari rolls off of the bed before he claps his hands down onto Kirishima’s shoulders and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t think you’ve gotten out of this so easily,” Kaminari warns him over his shoulder with a mischievous smile. “I’ll pry it out of you one way or another!”

Sero shakes his head at Kaminari’s determination as the blond squeezes by him before he raises a hand at the room in general. “Night Kirishima, Bakugou. See you guys in class.”

He closes the door behind him as he leaves and then they’re gone.

Kirishima waits a total of five seconds before he finally releases the tension from his body and lets out a little sigh of relief. It’s thirty more seconds before his pencil starts to move again for the first time since the others had so unceremoniously busted their way into his dorm. Not that Kirishima really minds or anything. He loves having his friends around, of course. Even if they do tend to talk about things that he’d rather avoid discussing with them.

It’s 240 more seconds until Bakugou decides to open his mouth.

“The fuck you lyin’ for?” he asks from the bean bag chair where he still hasn’t moved as he glowers suspiciously at Kirishima’s back. “’S not very manly of you to be such a damn pussy.”

Kirishima jumps in his seat and whips around to look at him; startled by his silent presence. “Geez, dude! You nearly scared me half to death! I thought you already went back to your own room!”

Bakugou’s sharp eyes only narrow further at that, refusing to back down or be distracted. “What’re you still avoidin’ the damn question for? The fuck are you tryna hide?”

Kirishima’s cheeks flood with embarrassed color again as he shifts around in his chair and rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, looking at anything else in the room that wasn't his explosive friend. “I don’t know what you’re... I’m not trying to hide anything-”

“Bullshit!” Bakugou berates him instantly, unwilling to be brushed aside like that. “What? You been around the block a few times or somethin’? You some kinda tramp back home?”

Kirishima’s eyes snap over to look at him and he glares hard with a furious pout at that accusation.

“Hey! I’m not a tramp!” he defends himself adamantly, cheeks growing an even darker shade of red as he runs distressed fingers through his loose hair. “Why do you even care so much anyway? I thought it was stupid to you?”

“Tch,” Bakugou sneers and kicks one of his socked feet out as though he might have a chance to connect his hit from the opposite side of the room. “Fuck off, it is stupid! Which is why it’s so damn weird that you’re so determined not to answer the fuckin’ question!”

“Yes! Okay?” Kirishima yells back at him in frustration. The pencil that he has been fiddling with snaps in two between his clenched fist, but neither of them seem to notice it. “I’ve kissed someone before, and I really really regretted it! Is that what you wanted to hear me say so badly?”

Bakugou’s scowl turns sour at the confession and his eyebrows pull down into a harsh point in the center of his forehead. “The fuck? The hell happened to make you act like such a big ole bitch baby about this?”

Kirishima clenches his jaw tight and flares his nostrils before he promptly turns back around in his seat to refocus on his homework with his broken piece of pencil, clearly refusing to say anything else on the subject. Bakugou stares at his back for a long moment in silence before he clicks his tongue impatiently against the roof of his mouth and lumbers from the bean bag chair up to his feet.

Kirishima hunkers down further in his seat and glares at his math work through squinted lids, still obviously fuming. Bakugou reaches out with a rough hand to shove at his head while he leans down against the corner of his desk.

“Stop lookin’ like that,” Bakugou demands in a softer, grumbled tone before he pushes his hands down into the safety of his sweatpants pockets. “You're ugly when you're pissed at me.”

Kirishima snorts at his paper against his better judgement and rubs a hand over his tired face before he mumbles out from between his fingers, “It’s so hard to believe that you’ve never kissed anyone before, dude... you’re so charming.”

“Oi,” Bakugou knocks his elbow half-heartedly into Kirishima’s shoulder. “Fuck off with that shit, you snarky bastard. Like I ain’t get enough pesterin’ from the damn hag about it already.”

Kirishima grins down at his unfinished homework, already imagining Mitsuki’s jabbing taunts and teasing smirks at her indignant son's expense. “You know, you could just kiss someone and get it over with if it bothers you so much. It’s not like you’re hideously unattractive or, like... Mineta or something.”

“Eh, what? And end up really, really regretting it like you did? No shot,” Bakugou huffs down at the hard wood floor under his feet.

“I...” Kirishima hesitates again, balancing on the brink of making a decision, before he sighs a sad sound and carefully places the two pieces of his pencil down on top of the desk. “It's not like I regret doing it or anything, I just... regret the person that I did it with. And why it happened in the first place. And... everything that happened after it.”

“You wanna break that down into Morse code for me?” Bakugou snarks while he glares at the other out of the corner of his eye. “The fuck you bein’ so damn cryptic for? If you’re gonna tell me what happened just tell me, or shut the fuck about it.”

Kirishima worries his bottom lip carefully between the tips of his sharp teeth for another long moment before he finally looks at him through the fringe of his hair. His eyes are wide and vulnerable as he debates with himself before he asks lowly under his breath, “You promise that you won’t tell anyone else...?”

“Hah? What, cause I’m such a gossiping social butterfly or somethin'?” Bakugou mocks him further with a skeptically raised brow. “Promise I’ll put it on a damn t-shirt and wear it around school. Now spill."

Kirishima laughs again despite himself before he fidgets a bit more and drops his head to look down at his lap. "It was... with Mina."

Bakugou stares at him blankly for a long time in silence. "That name supposta mean somethin' to mean? Who the fuck is that?"

Kirishima laughs so hard he thinks his abs will never loosen again before he knocks his fist into Bakugou's stomach. "Dude, c'mon! Ashido? From our class? We've been going to the same school for two years now, how do you still not know anyone's names?!"

Bakugou sits on this information with his brows furrowed like he's thinking really hard about it. "Tch! Fuck you, I know who she is! The... frog chick, or whatever."

"Oh my god," Kirishima lets his forehead fall into the palm of his hand and his shoulders continue to shake like he's struggling to contain himself. "You're so dumb, man. I can't believe how oblivious you are to literally everything. How are you even third in our entire class?"

"HAH?!" One of Bakugou's strong arms finds its way around Kirishima's neck before he gives him a tight, warning squeeze. "Careful who you're talkin' to asshole! It's not my damn fault all those other extras are so fuckin' forgettable!"

"Dude, she is literally pink!" Kirishima argues back with a wide grin from his muscular prison while he struggles to break free. "She has antenna on her head! She shoots acid! We were partners with her at the sport's festival!"

Bakugou blinks as a subtle spark of recognition registers somewhere deep in his eyes. He retracts his arm and pushes his hands into his pockets again while he shifts his weight around on the desk.

"Oh... the alien chick," he concludes as though to himself before he's back to glaring again. "When the fuck did that happen? Last year or somethin'?"

"No, it was..." Kirishima stumbles over his words and his paling cheeks start to revert back to being stained red. "It was... in Junior High. We used to go to the same school and... it happened at a birthday party."

Bakugou still looks suspicious before he shrugs one of his broad shoulders, "Okay? What, and then the world ended? The fuck is so wrong with all of that?"

"Nothing!" Kirishima protests urgently before he groans and slumps back in his chair to stare gloomily at his forgotten homework. "It was... she was... it wasn't bad or anything. It was just a dumb party game, and it was barely even anything but..."

Kirishima takes in a deep breath and leans forward to hunch over his desk again, his eyes squeezed shut and his face illuminated with humiliated color before he grits out between clenched teeth, "Ah, man! You're gonna think I'm being so dramatic and stupid but it just... it wasn't what I wanted for my first kiss! I'm not even into... I mean, I didn't even like her like that! We weren't even that close of friends back then, I didn't even really know her! And everyone at the party was watching us while it happened, it was so fucking embarrassing!"

A thick tension of silence followed that declaration in which neither of them moved a muscle. Kirishima didn't dare lift his head and see with his own two eyes the kind of incredulous and annoyed look that must be plastered across Bakugou's face right now. He clenches his hands into tight fists on top of the desk and leans his weight more heavily on his elbows while he waits for the mockery and taunting remarks that he's sure are to follow.

But for a long time, the room is quiet.

Until Bakugou states rather simply, "Then just fuckin' do it over again."

"What?" Kirishima can't help but ask, and he forgets about his fear of being made fun of long enough to raise his eyes again. "Do... what over again?"

"Your first kiss, or whatever," Bakugou insists with a vague flick of his wrist. "Just redo it. Who's even gonna fuckin' know the damn difference?"

Kirishima can only continue to blink up at him in further confusion. "Dude, you can't just... do something like that over again?"

"Eh? The fuck not?" Bakugou challenges him stubbornly. He takes his hands out of his pockets and crosses them over his chest with another careless shrug. "Just pretend like it never even fuckin' happened, and then whenever you kiss someone that you like for real then that'll be your first real kiss. It ain't even technically a lie at that point!"

Kirishima turns that idea over and over in his head before he frowns up at him again. "Wait... so, when Kaminari asked you if you've ever kissed anyone before, were you... I mean, did you just pretend then as well?"

Bakugou doesn’t look back at him as he shifts his weight around some more before he bites out harshly, "No. Fuckass. Obviously I ain't fuckin' kissed nobody. Didn’t you hear what that plain-faced asshole said? No way in hell anyone would want that from me."

Kirishima wants to tell him that he shouldn’t take what Sero said so seriously but he’s never really heard Bakugou state something so self-deprecating about himself in such a nonchalant manner. Before he can figure out what the right thing to say is, Bakugou is already pushing away from his desk and heading across the room back towards their balconies, no doubt to avoid stumbling into Iida and hearing another speech about hanging around in other people’s dorm rooms too late at night.

“‘M goin’ to bed,” he announces to nobody in particular as he slides the glass door open and steps out into the cold air, and Kirishima is quick to jump to his feet and follow after him.

He watches uncertainly with his hands fiddling awkwardly at his sides while Bakugou leaps over the banister onto his own balcony and starts for his own room.

“Hey, dude,” Kirishima calls out to him in a spur of the moment decision before he has the chance to disappear inside.

“Hah?” Bakugou pauses in the doorway and looks back at him with an impatiently raised brow. It’s past his bedtime, and it’s definitely starting to show in his growing attitude.

Kirishima reaches a hand up to press his fingers hard into the tense tissue of his shoulder, and he watches his feet move with intent eyes as he slowly makes his way over to the banister.

“I was just thinking...” he falters and seems to lose his courage to continue with that statement.

“Eh?” Bakugou prods him further with a furious glare. “All that thinkin’ fry your last few brain cells or somethin’? Spit it out already!”

Kirishima rocks his weight from one foot to the other before he finally gathers up enough strength to raise his head and grin at him with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “Well, what if... we kissed?”

Bakugou blinks back at him like he can’t fully process that rather simple statement.

“Eh?” he repeats again a bit more incredulously. “The fuck would we do somethin’ like that for?”

“I don’t know, cause...” Kirishima shrugs again before he reaches out to grip onto the banister with tight fingers as though it might provide him some much needed moral support before he carries on as casually as possible, “You’re my best bro, and we’re pretty comfortable with each other, and you haven’t kissed anyone before, and I know that I wouldn’t regret my do-over if it was with someone manly like you, you know?”

Bakugou only continues to stare at him. His silence is almost worse than his blatant rejection probably would have been, and Kirishima is in the process of opening his mouth and telling him to just forget the entire thing when Bakugou finally reboots and comes back online again.

“Tch,” his hands find their way back into his pockets as his vermilion gaze sweeps listlessly around the empty patio as though to ensure that they’re really alone before he slowly starts to make his way back over to the banister as well.

He comes to a stop on the other side of it and finally turns towards Kirishima directly with a challenging tilt of his chin high up in the air before he sternly declares, “Fine.”

“Wait, really?” Kirishima asks before he can stop himself.

Bakugou glares harder at him but it does little to hide the very obvious blush that’s leaked into his pale cheeks and stained the tips of his crooked ears red. “What, you think I’m some kinda coward or somethin’? It’s just a stupid kiss.”

“It’s not stupid!” Kirishima argues back instinctively as he grips the banister harder. “I don’t want to do it with you if that’s how you’re gonna think about it, man! This actually means something to me, you know?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that and turns his head away to glower at the wall of his dorm room for a long time while he gnaws incessantly on the inside of his cheek before he finally looks back at him again. “Whatever then, we doin’ this or not?”

Kirishima hesitates another moment longer before the cold breeze biting at his face makes the decision for him. He leans a bit further over the banister and tries not to acknowledge how fast his heart seems to be racing in his chest. Bakugou’s sharp gaze flicks down to look at his chin - or, actually, probably his lips - before his eyes shoot back up to lock with his and he stubbornly leans in as well.

For a fleeting second, their faces hover too close together. Bakugou can see every fleck of color in Kirishima’s half-lidded eyes, and Kirishima can feel the warm puff of breath spiral out from Bakugou’s parted lips onto his frigid cheeks.

It’s Bakugou who finally takes the plunge and surges forward to close the distance between them, no doubt impatient and running on the adrenaline that seems to be coursing through his veins. It’s not anything crazy or mind-blowing. Bakugou’s lips are a little dry because of the harsh weather, and Kirishima’s mouth still tastes like the pho bowl he had for dinner because he hasn’t brushed his teeth for bed yet, but neither of them move away from it either.

Kirishima can feel his heart thudding painfully in his throat when its over; when they continue to linger too close together over their banisters and stare at each other in the silence that follows.

“Better than pinky’s?” Bakugou suddenly asks.

Kirishima can’t help but grin at that. “Yeah... it was better than Mina’s.”

“Tch, damn right it was,” Bakugou declares as if he’d known it would be all along before he abruptly turns away again and heads back to his room as though that hadn’t just happened.

Kirishima chuckles under his breath in amusement as he watches him go. His knuckles have bled white with how fiercely he’s been clinging to the cold railing, but he hardly seems to notice that, or the chilly temperatures, or much of anything at all that isn’t Bakugou.

“Goodnight, man,” he tells his retreating figure, and he tries to ignore how warm his chest feels and how much his cheeks hurt from smiling like he is.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugou waves a dismissive hand over his shoulder without looking back as he disappears through the dark threshold. “G’night, Kirishima.”

To Be Continued...

#kiribaku #kiribaku prompt #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kaminari denki #sero hanta #iida tenya #ashido mina #bakushima #bnha #my hero academia

[kissmyhandcallmedarling]

creature of the night

dickie x gn!reader ( s m u t )

notes:

tw: contains smut + vulgar language

i love dickie so much, like he deserved so much better an ending than he got! his story is tragic :’(

idk if i’m just really fucked up, but noel is literally so hot playing this character!! like my god!

——————————————————————

"Stop running away in your little pants!"

Your eyes widened as the scene flashed before your very consciousness. A man wearing nothing but a black jockstrap bolted out of the door you stood beside, into the dank, concrete darkness.

"I'll turn you into a fucking glove puppet next time! I'll wear you like a fucking suit!"

The figure appeared from the doorway, thrusting his hips forward as he spoke, cackling to himself. You seemed to go unnoticed by the strange individual you presumed to be the notorious Dickie. They said he was the best in the business... well... if you were into the real weird shit.

Suddenly, his gaze was fixed on you, his expression almost... warm and... inviting...

"Oh hello," he spoke. The words rolled off his tongue like treacle; a complete juxtaposition to the savage you'd witnessed a few moments in the past. "You're next are you?"

You nodded, trying to get your head around the unpredictability of the... man?

"And what's your name, my sweet? I like to know the name of my clients before I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING REARRANGE THEIR GUTS!" His sudden change of attitude gave you a start.

"Oh, forgive me, dear," his voice returned to a reasonable volume, taking your hand in his, placing a kiss on your knuckles in a gentlemanly manner. "Now. What is your name?"

"Y/n."

"Hmm, what a gorgeous name." He hummed. "Now, let's have a look at you. Show me your belly button, come on. Your little tummy-tum-tum."

You did as he wished, lifting your skirt up to your underbust, revealing not only your navel but your legs and crotch, embellished with white fishnets, and a lacey garter straining tightly around your left thigh.

Dickie lacked the effort to suppress his groan, thick in his throat. "Oh god."

You bit your lip and dropped your skirt back down, meeting his lascivious gaze.

"Oh, you are so pretty. So dainty, and pretty. Like a little daisy. Little daisy child. All soft and FUCKING SICKLY!! LIKE FUCKING CANDYFLOSS THAT'S BEEN LEFT OUT ALL DAY IN THE SUN! ABANDONED BY SOME LITTLE CHILD!!" You watched the insanity ebb and flow through his irises, as icy blue as fresh cobalt, matching that of the wavering tone of his voice.

"My sweet one," Dickie had snaked his arm around your waist, his demurity having resurfaced. "Venture into my den with me. And we can have some fun. You and me. What do you say to that, hmm, darling?"

He escorted you through the dingy doorway, entering a room enlightened by pink neon light, slamming the door behind him. Your eyes darted about the room, taking in the surroundings. Brightly coloured tiled walls, on which a plastic telephone was mounted; a children's play table currently housing a pile of powered narcotics; an array of painted rainbows and stars; various handrails attached to the walls, of which's purpose you had a hunch. You were about to seat yourself on a daggy plastic chair, pondering, before he stopped you.

"No, don't sit there." Instead, he gestured to an elaborately decorated four-poster bed, embellished in rococo linens and gold features, a right contrast to the seemingly child-like decor of the opposite end of the room. "Those chairs are for my boys. My little children. Those FUCKING DISGUSTING PRICKS! You're far too decent for the chair. Instead, why not make yourself comfortable on the bed, my little slut. My little whore." Dickie had grasped your shoulders from behind. "Even though you're paying me. OH FUCK! THAT MAKES ME THE SLUT! I'M A FUCKING PROSSY! A PROSTITUTE! WHAT WOULD MY MOTHER SAY! WHAT WOULD SHE THINK OF ME!!!"

"Do I pay upfront?" You queried blankly, as though it was a common occurrence for you to pay for the pleasure of this man's company. You revealed a wad of cash, handing it to him.

"Ah, perfect. Thanks for that." He was instantly pulled from his outburst, accepting your payment. "Now, then," Dickie slithered around to face you, allowing his eyes to slowly drop, as though analyzing how best to tackle you. "Let's party."

And he kissed you. Your lips mingled, your respective lip colours merging to form one dark shade of mauve. Your hands instinctively found his cheeks, his cheekbones, defined by the strips of sellotape he'd forgotten to remove when contouring his face. His gloved hand gently lifted your skirt, gripping your buttocks. But instead of venturing where you thought it would go, his hand progressed up your back, as if stroking your vertebrae. His fingers, sandwiched between your skin and dress, danced along your skin, pulling your body closer to his. A heat was growing, deep within your core. A need. A desire. His femininity was tantalizing; his underlying masculinity was grounding. He made your body scream in a way it had never done before.

"Ooh," Dickie extracted his hand from your back, and instead, brought its focus to your lower region. "My sweetheart. You are in for a night to remember."

Your thoughts dwindled away as he continued to pleasure you.

"My god!" You drawled.

"Mmmm. I always desire a good time for my clients." With one swift motion, he had freed you from your clothing, and rid himself of his own, leaving only your fishnets and minimal undergarments. You were both wearing lingerie. "So pretty! So frilly! YOU FUCKING GORGEOUS SLUT, YOU!" His rage mimicked his movements, as he rammed his lips to yours. He trailed his lips down your neck, to your sternum, where he sucked your skin with enough suction to leave a bruise. Dickie then pulled away, his breath heaving. And then he launched into a passionate monologue.

"You know, when the sky is clear, and there is ne'er a cloud in the sky, it means the sun is streaking. Showing off all her gorgeous, firey, curves to the moon. And when the moon is dark and only half showing, it is because he is hiding. He is hiding because he's touching himself. Touching himself to the sun's sensuality. She makes him trés exitée, mon cherie." Dickie crawled above you once more. He smelled of pink roses, candyfloss, and aftershave. He took your hand in his and stroked it along his jawline. His visage was clean-cut and defined, and it made your insides positively flutter.

"And tonight," You bit your tongue, anticipating the sensation, as he slowly lowered his hips until he was pressed firmly against you. "I shall be your sun. I'll make you feel shameful of how you feel towards me." He spoke through gritted teeth. Suddenly, he thrust his crotch into yours, harshly, with aggression, forcing a pleasurable mewl to escape your lips. "Now that's more fucking like it, darling."

***

"Fuuuck." Dickie drawled. "Oooh! You feel so GOOD!"

Every thrust brought you closer to climax, as his pace quickened. Dickie brought his face back down to yours and kissed your lips with hunger. You buckled your hips and tangled your fingers in his hair. You felt a drip on your cheek, and realised he had begun to cry. 

"Oh," his teeth gritted, tears streaming down his face. "It's just you're being such a good child for Uncle Dickie! Such a FUCKING GOOD LITTLE ONE!" 

His speed increased, as the pair of you grew impatient.

So close now.

With one final thrust, you felt yourself tumble down a rabbit hole of pure, utter ecstasy.

Until the waves rippled out. 

And you were brought back to the moment.

ReIease.

What a ride. Literally.

Dickie collapsed back onto the headboard, expelling a groan. He proceeded to light a cigarette, taking a long drag before holding it up to your lips. You accepted, still catching your breath.

You sighed. "My dear, Dickie," He turned to face you. "I think I'll have to pay you visits more often."

"I'm not objecting, sweetie." He unexpectedly kissed you, before snatching back his cigarette and letting out a cackle. "To be frank with you, I quite enjoyed that. Tell you what? Next one's on the house."

"Is that discount redeemable straight away?" You winked.

That psychotic grin spread across his face. "Of course, darling."

#noel fielding #noel fielding x reader #dickie #set the thames on fire #the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #it crowd #vince noir #richmond avenal #noel is a dilf #noelian #julian barratt #sally phillips #art #this is weird #i apologise for this #bye now #:))))) help

[btssunnyboy]

Unbelievable - Choi San

He was always rude to you, embarrassing you in front of everyone. So why is he mad that someone better made you an offer?

Warning - Profanity, mention of caffeine, San is mean as fuck, Yandere towards the end, He makes a threat.

Word Count - 3,362 idk if they will be a part 2!

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ — request open.

__________________________________________

Good god, your blood was boiling the moment you saw his door crack open. You could feel your fingernails digging into your palms as you tried to remain calm. The last thing you needed to do was lose your temper and give this man another opportunity to ridicule in front of your co-workers. But judging by that horrendous look on his face you already have a gut feeling that all taht hard work to keep your anger in check is going to fly right through the window. Taking the deepest breath you could take and plastering on that fake smile, you gladly greeted the man that makes your life a living hell.

“These numbers are definitely not to my liking and I refused to be the laughing stock at the board meeting tomorrow.” He huffed heavily as he practically threw the binder down onto your desk. The heavy plastic slamming against the steel desk with a loud thud that echoed through the big hallway. The wind from the fall making papers that previously occupied your desk go flying in every single direction. You could feel your anger bubble up in your chest at the mere disrespect that this man was giving you, and it was driving you insane.

“With all do respect sir, it’s already twelve thirty, and I highly doubt I’ll be able to go over all of these documents by seven thirty in the morning.” You resisted their urge to grit your teeth as you wanted to appear somehow considerate of his complications. Truth be told you didn’t want to do another all nighter when you barely pulled through from the other night. “Besides, I looked over the revenue and margin growths three times before I sent them to your office.”

He scoffed loudly as he licked one of his fingers and then continued to rummage through the papers that were bonded together. His long finger skimmed over the lines multiple times and he flipped each page within a minute. Those piercing eyes stayed locked in on every single number that crossed the page. “Ah, right here it states that we made a profit revenue of fifty million last year, but then it states that this year we’ve only grossed sixty five million. And that’s definitely less than the fifty percent revenue growth that we expected.”

“So, sixty five is not as bad as you’re making it out to be, besides multiple people double checked.” You spoke tiredly as you started packing up your briefcase. Different papers getting stacked together and even crumpled because of the rapid pace that you were going. No matter what happens tonight you were leaving before the clock strikes one in the morning. As you were packing up your eyes met his furious ones and it felt like your world was crumbling down. “Mr. Choi, I’m being honest, your accounting department checked all of these numbers multiple times and I looked over them as much as I could.”

“I know for a fact that we had a fifty percent increase in revenue, now look over these damn numbers again. Or you’ll be kissing this cushy office job goodbye in the morning.” He harshly slammed the binder closed and stalked over to his office door. The audacity of that stupid man, how dare he even threaten you with this job. But as much as you wanted to spit in his face and tell him to shove it you really needed this job, this really well paying job.

You poked your cheek with your tongue out of agitation and roughly grabbed your purse. The bottle of caffeine pills made a clicking sound as you unscrewed the cap within a second. Without a drink of water you downed the pill and grabbed the ugly binder. This was going to be a long night, and these numbers were not going to supposedly fix themselves.

Your fingers tapped the keys on the keyboard rapidly as you searched each collaboration revenue. All of these numbers were lining up, no matter what you searched. Out of the six collaborations Choi enterprise only grossed sixty five million, but for some reason he just won’t listen. All you wanted to do at this point was slump forward and go to sleep, but with that anger that Mr.Choi has you’re scared he might kill you in your sleep. But as the long hours went on and on, you could feel yourself slipping. Your eyelids felt like a ton, and your head was suddenly too heavy for your neck to hold. Before you knew you were out like a light.

—

You’d shoot the person who was jabbing their finger into side if you could. Their bony finger feeling a knife stabbing your rib cage with immense pressure. “Please wake up, y/n, if he notices you’re asleep, who knows what he’ll do!” The jabbing didn’t cease one bit, in fact they just jabbed even harder.

“Okay! I’m up!” You groggily scoffed as your vision was trying to focus on the object in front of you. The figure was simply a mush of different colors all moving in different directions. The harsh lights in the office are in no way making the situation any better. You could make out their hand moving from left to right to try and grab your attention. “Hongjoong?”

“What are you, blind? Of course it’s me, but please I’m begging you get up and go freshen up in the bathroom.” He sighed sadly as he helped your wobbly stance straighten up. His soft hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. The soft scent of his cologne filling your nose as you clung to him. “Do you still carry extra clothes in your car?”

“Thankfully yes, but what time is it?” You question as you rubbed your eyes, trying to make all the colors of the world blend back together to form one coherent thing. “Oh god, is it past seven thirty, oh shit! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Calm down, it's only six thirty, but he always gets here at seven. So please go wipe that old makeup off and I’ll get your other clothes.” Hongjoong smiled slightly at you before his eyes shifted towards the oh so famous brown binder. “Did that dick make you go over more numbers the whole night?”

“God yes and it was terrible, but I looked over all six collaborations and I kid you not it all equals sixty five.” You could hear a pin drop on the silence that coated the room. It was beginning to feel suffocating and you physically felt your chest growing heavy with dread. “There were only six right, because that’s all the forms I received.”

“Maybe i'm just thinking of something else, because maybe just maybe -“

“Stop wasting time! Is there more than six?” You panicked as you shoved him away and pulled the rolling chair back to your side. Before your fingers could even reach the keys, Hongjoong’s were there in a second. They tapped rapidly and skimmed through all your emails at a neck breaking pace. “Oh my god I never refreshed the email.”

“We don’t have time to sit here and panic, we have three pages of numbers to go through.” Hongjoong tried to make the situation less tense by offering a helping hand, but he knew that if these numbers weren’t corrected all hell would break loose. And no one wanted to see what Choi San was like when he more than ticked off. He’d probably be past the point of furious if ever saw these unfinished numbers.

—

San’s eyes were narrowed as he eyed the unfamiliar man at your desk. Where the hell were you? He didn’t pay a shit ton of money for you to be everywhere and not in that chair looking pretty. But at this moment he couldn’t control himself as the words flew from his mouth. “What the hell is this?”

That look, that gorgeous look of fear that made his blood rush and his heart pound. Was etched across the unknown man's face and he was basking in the glory of it. San cocked his eyebrow slightly as he leaned forwards on his palms. “Did I suddenly grow two heads or some shit, no? Then answer my question, what the hell is this.”

“I’m so sorry Mr.Choi, but I didn’t notice that there were seven collaborations. I only had six in my email. And Mr.Kim was only helping me scrunch the numbers.”

“You mean to tell me that these numbers aren’t finished! And this meeting is in less than an hour?” His demeanor was calm but the sheer venom in his voice was enough to bring you to your knees. He poked his cheek with his tongue and gave a mean smile in your direction. “I mean it, l/n you’re on thin ice. But if those numbers aren’t corrected then you’re fired.”

“Yes sir.” You gulped as you watched him take heavy steps towards his office. You were in deep shit now. San rubbed his chin as he tried to remain calm and not fire you on the spot. Out of all the times you could have missed up, you decided now was the perfect time. Messing up these numbers would make other investors think that this company cannot handle the responsibility of simply matching numbers. This mistake could completely tank the company and put everyone here out of a job.

Fifty five minutes have passed and investors from other companies are already showing up at the doors. And here he was sitting at the head of the table empty handed, and it was all your fault. It was your fault for not refreshing that damn email, for not paying closer attention to the numbers, for simply not giving it your all. And now it’s going to be your fault that the entire company crumbles and falls straight into the depths below.

“So San, when is this meeting going to officially begin?” Questioned one of the many associates as he leaned back against the velvet chair. A smile bright on his face as if he didn’t care to wait a moment or two for it to begin. But, on the other hand, the leader of the meeting was so furious he could start foaming at the mouth. Because guess what crucial piece of information still wasn’t on his desk.

“We will begin momentarily if my secretary would get her head out of her ass and bring them those god damn numbers.” San spoke with a soft smile on his face. The look he gave the men was a completely different tone from the words he just spoke. Those words help fury and degradation but his smile was so bright it could light up a room or cause someone’s heart to flutter out of their chest. But at this moment all of those men knew at this moment San was anything, but happy.

The sound of the doorknob being yanked on caught everyone’s attention. Their heads jolted towards the cause of the noise as they watched you fiddled with the dozens of papers in her hand. Your smile was uneasy as you tried to reorganize them on your way towards the head of the table. They watched your clammy hands shake with fear as San ripped the paper from your hands. Judging by the way you quickly held your pointed and middle finger they could only guess what happened.

“Why the hell are you still standing here? Do I need to draw you a picture and make it clear that you’re done here?” San scolded as he shoved you a bit and forced you to walk to the door. Fumbling over your own two feet and almost hitting the floor head on at one point. But he didn’t care, because all he wanted to do right now was get this meeting over with. With a final shove and a quick slam of the glass door, he swiftly turned back around to be met with very difficult to decipher expressions.

“Well now that all distractions are gone, let’s get down to business.”

—

Your face was flushed and you could feel your hands start to shake. From the mere interaction with the stupid CEO. The vivid picture of his icy eyes and cold stare were burned into your brain, as his words pounded in your skull without mercy. The man practically belittled you, in a room full of successful CEOs who now probably think you’re a joke.

“Hey, don't worry yourself sick. It was an honest mistake.” Hongjoong consoled you as he eyed your shaken form. The tearful eyes and the constant bouncing of your leg was a dead giveaway of the way you felt at this moment. And he wanted nothing more than to just say everything will be okay, that everything is going to be just fine. But he can’t, because who knows what the jerk will do you do considering your almost costed him a deal.

“Do you think he’ll fire me?” The question hung in the air with such heaviness that it was almost hard to breathe. The thought of losing this job was sending you into a whirlwind of erratic emotions. If this job is gone, there goes the ability to afford your car, hell there goes the ability to afford the damn apartment you’re living in at this moment. You’ll lose eveything, if you’re cut off.

“He better not, and trust me if he ever does, I would be more than happy to have you on my team.” A new man smiled brightly in your direction as he made his way over to your desk. He wasn’t an unfamiliar face around the office as he and Mr.Choi have done business deals of many kinds in the past. “It would truly be an honor to have someone like you working at Jeon Marketing.”

A small smile took over your face as you eyed the man in front of you. Mr.Jeon was an extremely well known CEO in this business, and he’s not too much older than Mr.Choi. You’re genuinely surprised these men are allies in this type of business, if anything you thought they’d be enemies. “Thank you for such kind words, but trust me your opinion on me may change soon.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen the way you handle situations at this company, especially time crunched ones. I can tell just by looking at your face you stayed up hours just to make sure his numbers were perfect.” Mr Jeon stated as he leaned forward on the desk and clapped his hand together. “And truth be told I wouldn’t mind having such a beautiful face be the face of my company.”

His compliment left you stumped as you eyed his face. The tone he held was lighthearted because he knew this stressful situation needed a little laughter, but you knew from the look on his face he was being serious. About both of his statements. Before you could form a response, he long fingers were reaching into his jacket pocket. “I promise, if you ever need anything. I’m just a call away.”

“His top rival and best friend just offered you a sweet ass deal, are you gonna take it?”

You truly didn’t know the answer to that. I mean on one hand you have your secretary job here, and it pays well. The boss may be a pain in the ass, but it’s the only thing keeping you afloat. And you know that these two companies are neck and neck right now for the top spot, so it’s hard to decipher just how much he’s willing to pay you. But would there be any harm in simply asking the man?

“I’m not gonna lie and say it doesn’t intrigue me, but at the same time I don’t wanna leave you all alone.” You mumbled as you tapped away at the computer keys. Just trying to find any small amount of information about his company. But only mere surface information popped up in the search box. “Would it be a bad thing if I did leave?”

“Sometimes trying something new is good thing, but it really all depends on how you feel. And I have a friend that works there and she told me she makes over 250k a year.” Hongjoong shrugged his shoulders as he stood up to leave. His soft eyes giving a sense of comfort as he started to walk away. “I promise whatever option you pick, you’ll be fine.”

A heavy huff of air passed through your lips as you tried to think of the right answer. If he was right you’d make just a little bit more working for him and he genuinely seems like a nicer boss in general. So the real question is what’s keeping you tied to this job? The only perk about this job is working with Hongjoong and he’s the main reason why you’ve stuck around this long. The men from before were now exiting San’s offer with bright smiles on their faces, and you could only conclude that those numbers truly were the right ones. But just as your eyes leave their smiles you’re met with someone who has the complete opposite expression.

He briskly walked towards you and hastily cleared his throat. The stone cold expression he was supporting made a shiver go down your spine. Without a second thought he grabbed your hand and hauled you off in the direction of his office, with his nails piercing the skin of your wrist. Within a second he shoved you into his office and slammed the door behind him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His stern voice echoed in the office. Bouncing off the walls left and right and continuing to bounce inside your skull. The fingernails that were pressing into your skin felt like sharp needles protruding into you. You could have sworn you saw blood pass through his fingers. “Answer me!”

“I’m sorry! But I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” You panicked as you tried to yank your arm away from his hardened grasp. Those eyes of his start to terrify you the longer you stay in his touch. But he wasn’t letting you get away if anything the more you struggled against him the tighter his hold got.

“I saw that dumb fucker hand you his card, and for some unknown reason you took it. So what that’s it, you’re just gonna fucking leave after everything I’ve done for you?” He spat words at you left and right. Not bothering to back up any of his claims. He speaks as if he’s given you pure gold to walk but in reality all he’s given you is eggshells. You have to be careful around you, you’re never treated well, and he wants to sit up on his throne and act as if he’s treated you like royalty?

“If anything you’ve given me shit! You’re treating me like crap any chance you get, I made one mistake and your response to that is belittling me in front of other people!” You shouted back with just as much venom as he has done to you. With a final yank from your arm, you relaxed yourself from his grip. Tired of his antics you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke. “And so what if I take his offer, he’d be a better boss than you ever were!”

“I mean it, L/n, you take that deal and I’ll make your life a living hell.” He threatened as he got closer and closer. His minty breath fanned your face slightly as he harshly grabbed your chin. “Trust me, this is one bet you’ll regret taking if you leave.”

“I’ll take that damn bet any day.” You tried to push his chest back but he was stronger than you. What surprised you the most was the cackle-like laugh that passed through his lips. A wide smile taking over his face and that somehow made the situation more sinister.

“I warned you, Y/n.”

#Yandere ateez #ateez imagines #ateez Drabble #San x reader #ateez x reader #San imagines #San Drabble #San one shot #ateez one shot #Yandere San #Yandere au #kpop imagine #kpop one shot #kpop x reader #Yandere kpop #Yandere Drabble #ateez scenarios #ateez Yandere au #ateez au #San reaction #ateez reaction #ateez #imagines #ateez x you #ateez reader insert #San x you #San Yandere imagine #ateez Yandere imagines #San Yandere #San Yandere Drabble

[vukovich]

peculiar prompt: soulmate au where your dick is the same exact length as your soulmate’s (i guess everyone has a dick in this universe idk 😂) anyways drarry discovering they are soulmates in whatever convoluted way you would like!

Nine and Three Quarters

Summer weddings were an unlikely tradition for a family that ran high to freckles and sunburns, but Harry didn't mind. Usually.

This wedding, though, he'd have just as soon not attended. It wasn't that he harbored any romantic intentions toward Charlie, but seeing him so bloody happy made Harry keenly aware of his own solitude.

Charlie and Constantin fed each other forkfuls of cake and grinned. They were perfectly-matched. Identical white short sleeve dress shirts and gold waistcoats, sparkling blue eyes and mirrored grins as they threatened each other with blobs of icing, much to Molly's horror.

Their matching gold rings felt like an extension of the tattoos on the underside of their left forearms. Charlie's was a dragon, of course. Constantin's was a crouched hippogriff. They were exactly the same size, but different designs and colors.

Forearm tattoos abounded among gay wizards, but it had taken seeing Charlie and Constantin together for him to notice the pattern. A plate of cake floated to his table and set itself down in front of him. He picked it apart with his fork, separating the layers of frosting out from the the cake, then mashed the fluffy cake down into a pellet.

A breathless Charlie flopped into an empty chair next to him and surveyed the wreckage on his plate.

"Got a grudge against that cake?"

"Huh? Oh. No. Sorry."

Charlie slid Harry's cake away, probably for its own good. Constantin and Fleur fox-trotted past, and one of them reached out to ruffle Charlie's hair.

"No date?"

"Nah." Harry licked his fork clean, rolled the bits of cake around in his mouth, and wished he'd have eaten the slice.

"Still doing the playboy thing, eh?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess."

Charlie huffed a laugh. "You guess? What else would you be doing at clubs?"

Harry shrugged again.

"Well, if you get tired of it and want the name of a really good soulmate tattoo artist, let me know." Charlie wiped up a dab of frosting off Harry's plate and popped his finger in his mouth. "Until then, enjoy hunting in the dark."

Charlie rose to leave, but Harry reached out and grabbed him by the buckle on the back of his waistcoat.

"Soulmate tattoos?"

--

--

"But I thought the tattoo went on my arm."

Harry kept his hands in his jeans pockets, just in case the man decided to help him disrobe.

"It does..."

Bushy grey eyebrows rose in speculation, and the man's brown eyes squinted at Harry, unsure of whether Harry was playing a prank, playing dumb, or playing at nothing.

"So why would I take my trousers off?"

"Riiiggght," he said slowly, gently spinning back and forth on his stool. "Why don't you tell me what you do know about soulmate tattoos."

Harry hooked his thumbs in his pockets and looked around the tattoo parlour for clues, but there was nothing but drawings on the walls. Pictures of forearms, too, all with differing sizes of beasts and creatures on them.

"Uhm," Harry started, "they go on forearms." The man nodded and motioned for him to continue. "And... they're... magic?"

The man shook his head and sighed. "The death of gay wizard culture, I swear. I blame that app."

"Wait, there's an app for-"

"Soulmate tattoos are the size of the wearer's dick."

Every tattoo Harry had ever seen ran through his head at once, and he stood slack-jawed for what felt like hours.

The man continued. "And so part of getting one is getting your dick measured. Professionally."

"I... Uh..."

"Men lie on the app. That's why all these boys are running around thinking they don't have soulmates, but older men know better. Back in the day, we'd just walk up to a bloke, line our arms up, and pair off."

Harry looked at the ceiling and tried to imagine a scenario in which that didn't sound both terrifying and oddly comforting.

"Why would you line them up?"

The man stared at him for a long. fucking. time.

"Soulmate dicks match, kid." He grumbled something about the Internet. "Now do you want the tattoo or not?"

"I... Uhm... Maybe later?"

"Suit yourself."

--

There had to be a better way to do this.

Harry balanced on tip-toe, focused on his dick with one eye, and dipped his quill. His tongue peeked out a corner of his lips as he concentrated on tracing around his shaft.

Was the quill angled accurately? Was the nib too far from his skin to be accurate? Was width even relevant?

He let out a held breath and dropped down to his heels. The paper on his desk was an embarrassment.

"Looks like a fucking caterpillar," he grumbled to himself.

Maybe they made enchanted quills for this.

--

The nook of art supplies at Flourish and Blotts was overwhelming, but it smelled good. Needle-sharp enchanted nibs sounded like a terrible idea. Image-grabbing paper sounded equally dangerous. What if he got his dick stabbed or absorbed into a piece of paper?

Someone cleared their throat behind him.

"Can I help you?"

Draco Malfoy met his eyes with a hesitant smile. He looked strangely at home surrounded by paper and ink. He wore a rumpled black t-shirt that advertised in bold white letters "Truth Quills: The Reign of Error Ends Here".

"Uhm... maybe?"

"What kind of project are you working on?"

"I'm... just... tracing something?"

Draco nodded and reached up to grab a pack of nibs just above Harry's head. The Dark Mark on his forearm caught Harry's eye. It wasn't a Dark Mark anymore. The skull wore a crown of red roses, and the snake had been filled in with vibrant yellow and blue markings. Harry decided it looked a bit like a Grateful Dead album cover. But prettier.

"These are good for most projects if you're just starting out."

Draco handed him a plastic box with more thingamajigs than he had any idea what to do with.

"Uhm, okay. Thanks."

"No problem." Draco's eyes wandered down to Harry's forearm and his smile faltered. "Anything else?"

"No, I think I'm good."

--

He wasn't good. He was nowhere near good, and he had black ink all over his dick. Also on his hands, and the table, and the floor, but those were less important.

"Looks like a goddamn Holstein dong."

--

"Alright," Draco said, and his smile was bordering on a smirk. "But what's the reference? What are you trying to trace?"

A dozen dick-shaped things came to mind, and Harry blurted, "A banana."

Draco did not laugh. Not with his mouth. Just with his eyes. His t-shirt today said "Blink Ink: Drier than your ex" in jagged black script.

"Mm hm," Draco squeaked through his nose. "Is accuracy important?"

Harry let out a relieved sigh. "Yes."

Draco cleared his throat and schooled his face. "Here."

He handed Harry a Truth Quill. "That ought to give you an accurate outline of your... banana."

--

"Hot damn!"

Harry held the outline of his cock up to the light. Damned if it wasn't perfect. He laid it face-down on his forearm and frowned. How was he supposed to get it onto his skin?

--

Draco faked a cough and covered his mouth and nose with his hand. "Pardon?"

"I need to transfer it."

"But a backlight won't work because..."

"Uhm... it can't... light can't go through the... other... thing."

Draco's t-shirt today had a frilly, looping font that said, "Nearotica: Almost There."

"Dare I ask what material you're transferring this banana onto?"

Harry focused on Draco's forearm, and the curve of the roses, and the sinewy body of the snake.

"Uhm... leather?"

Draco shot him a challenging look Harry didn't understand. "I suppose you'd want a cautery tool for that."

"Uhm... okay."

--

He wasn't okay. He had two burned dots on his forearm, and a hole in his paper at the base and tip of the outline.

Over a hundred galleons spent, and all he had to show for it were what looked like two mosquito bites that were exactly one penis-length apart.

The hell with all of it.

--

Harry dropped bags of barely-used art supplies on the store counter, and Draco's chin snapped up. He cocked his head and looked at the bags while Harry read his t-shirt: "Thrill Your Darlings: Tropes and Nopes."

"Didn't work out?" Draco asked.

Harry bent down, rested his elbows on the counter, and shook his head. "Can I return it?"

Draco shrugged. "Store credit, since it's all been opened."

Harry buried his face in his hands. "I'll take it in coloring books."

"I'll throw in some markers."

Draco shot him a pitying smile and stood to collect the bags. His eyes caught on the two burn marks on Harry's forearm. He set his elbow next to Harry's and pressed their wrists together.

"Huh," Draco exhaled. He rolled his tattoo against Harry's forearm. The peak of the rose crown touched the mark nearest Harry's wrist, and the snake's tail met the other.

Harry stared at their arms, wide-eyed and panicked in the best way.

"Is it-" Harry started. "Do they, uhm..."

"I... do believe so. If your banana outline was accurate."

Harry gulped. "It was."

"Huh," Draco repeated. "Well, in that case, there's a giant mandala coloring poster I've had my eye on, but it's a bit much for one person."

Harry let a grin spread across his face. "Consider it sold."

#peculiar prompts #drarry #drarry fluff #cw: self-harm (accidental)

[tooweirdforyou]

The OP Boys & Their Personal Dirty Secrets pt. 2

A/N : Hey hun! I hope you like this! ( i can’t tag you idk why ) I saw you wanted a part two to this and decided to do it because it was fun. I guess, lol. anyways hope you like this! :>

Soooo, don’t judge the gif I couldn’t find anything else. Also I’m kinda tired ;-; alsooo. these ones are a LITTLE bit dirtier.

Warning : NSFW AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! ⚠️ ESPECIALLY W/ THATCH.

kid and mihawk don’t have specific dark secrets since I couldn’t think of anything that would yk connect to them. ;-;

Summary : All of these boys and their personal, hidden dirty secrets. PART TWO!

-

Doflamingo

Oh boy, this male, despite his possessiveness, has a bit of a voyeurism kink. He hasn’t yet, but he DEFINITELY wants to turn on the country wide announcement, ( like those screens whatever used in Dressrosa when he talked ) and just fuck you as everyone watches throughout the island. He dreams of it, and one day, HE WILL make it a reality.

“How does it feel?” The lick of his lips and the shit-eating grin was on display all over the island for the people of Dressrosa to see, the image of Doflamingo’s hips thrusting and making contact with your rear.

“Does it feel good to have the whole island watching you being fucked senseless, by me? Their king?”

You couldn’t respond, lost in the insane amount of pleasure that ran through your body, specifically your lower regions. You didn’t even care that you were being watched, basking in the euphoria you were given at the moment.

Doffy’s strings suspended you partially in air, the material binding your body so you couldn’t move in the slightest as he took you from behind.

Arms wrapped around your bare figure, one holding you thigh tightly while the other wrapped around your torso, his hand grasping your throat and his fingers, pressing itself onto the flesh of your neck.

If you were fortunate, your face was cut off from the screen to be visible but your exposed body was seen by everyone who watched.

Doflamingo felt glory and power, as he continued to fuck you for all to see, your sweet, melodic moans echoing through the island as he did this.

What a fantasy that will soon become a reality.

-

Kid

Literally anything but also nothing. I couldn’t think of anything.. so here’s a kink he has! Dominant Submission. (?) basically, he LOVES the submissive ones, but those who really fight back. Feisty bitches yk? But like, he knows you’re all talk because he’ll have you begging for him on your knees once the two of you really get started. ;)

You’re teasing the hell out of Kid. You’re being bad by ignoring Kid and disobeying his orders and the Captain has had enough.

He barges into your room, slamming the door shut with the lock clicking on and before you could react, he has his hand around your throat and your back shoved to the wall.

“You think you’re being funny?” He growls into your ear, instantly using his free hand to rip your clothes off in a swift pull.

Despite the lack of air you had, your face still formed a sly and cheeky smirk in response. “I..I think it’s.. hilarious. Ha.”

Kid scowls before slowly smirking himself and tightened his grip on your neck a little bit more, but not enough to actually kill you. ( he cares after all :> )

“Tch. Looks like you need a punishment.” He drags you over to your bed and shoves you roughly done onto him, unbuckling his pants and pulled the belt out from the loops and pressed the two ends together so he had an able whipping belt. ( make sense? )

You merely grin at this and tilt your head. “Oh? Is that for me?” You hum and sat up, legs up and spread for him to see your already getting wet pussy, arms over you knees.

The sight of it made Kid growl lowly before he walks closer to you. “Time for you to face the consequences of pissing me off.”

With one hand, he forces you down onto the bed, breasts against the mattress and your ass forcefully in the air.

And with the raise of his other hand, it was only seconds before a loud whip was heard.

Tears stings the corner of your eyes but you still held strong, biting your lip. “Is that all you got? Guess you weren’t so angry.” You laugh and Kid didn’t respond, only whipping you once more, a little more force.

“Don’t you worry. I have all night long.”

[ I could write a whole OneShot about this, I had to stop lol ]

-

Marco

Little bit harder, buttt, come on. Sex in the air? Marco’s dream, for sure. And if he’s going to admit it, yes, he has done sexual activities in the air, where no one would be around.

The blonde doctor soars across the sky, a little ways away from the ship, not too far to lose sight but enough where he wouldn’t be seen, regardless of it being the time of night.

He’s only ever done it once or twice, but the no matter how many times Marco would do it again afterwards, the first time experience couldn’t ever be bested.

Sexual activities in the air.

Yet, that didn’t mean Marco didn’t love the thrill and excitement it brought him, especially when he did it so often in his younger days.

Extending his bright cyan blue wings out and around him, Marco palms himself through his pants, shutting his eyes before slightly lowering his pants enough to release his cock into the exposed cold air.

Marco shivers before reeling back and moving so he was laying down, his wings as support. One left propped up and his fingers wrapped itself around his shaft, his touch slow.

With nothing but the moon lighting down on him and the refreshing night breeze in the midnight sky, Marco felt at ease as he continues to rub his length in a teasingly slow motion, only increasing in speed seconds after.

Marco won’t lie, when it came to his release, he often did it into his hands and a bit dripping down onto his hips and chest,

but it felt good letting his cum spurt into the ocean.

-

Thatch

It’s pretty known that Thatch is a real perv with large sexual desires. ( at least to me because of @ honeybakedthatch lol ) however, this personal secret is his dirtiest one yet.

Thatch bit his lip as he grunted out a soft groan, feeling the rest of his warm, bitter cum shooting out from his tip and into the leftover mixture of cream and condensed milk he made for the cinnamon buns.

Pulling his pants up and zipping it tight, Thatch made sure to thoroughly mix the cum and mixture together with a plastic spoon before drizzling it over the cinnamon buns he left out just for you.

The plastered grin Thatch wore merely widens as he watched the ordinary looking cinnamon buns look identical to the others, but he knew the pleasant surprise in taste that differed.

Just as he finished drizzling the cream, the door opened, you having walked in. “Thatch, I smell something good! What is it?”

The cheery, innocent smile you had made Thatch smirk a bit, the imagination all too pleasant, the thought of you eating his delicious cinnamon buns.

“I made cinnamon buns. Here, I made these especially for you.” Thatch holds out the separate plate he had and walks closer to you, placing a sweet kiss on your temple before letting you take the plate and fork.

“Enjoy. If it’s a bit too bitter, let me know and I’ll.. sweeten it up for you.”

-

Mihawk

This stoic ass man is such an intimate, romanticist, he doesn’t quite have very dirty secrets.. but, one kink he secretly has is bondage and slight corruption. He won’t ever mention it but if you bring it up, he’ll voice his opinions on it.

“Now, now, love. You should be careful.”

Mihawk’s strict but amused tone was evident as he sat in his chair and watched you writhe in the tight black silk ribbons that bounded you on the ground.

Your arms were tied behind your back, your vision blocked by a silk blindfold and your legs were forced spread by a ankle bar, exposing your bare heat towards Mihawk.

You were leaning against a table/chair, and the only thing you could hear were Mihawk’s praises and warnings, along with the humming vibration that came from the vibrator strapped to your clit.

“You might loosen the binds, and you know you don’t want that, do you?” Mihawk sternly questions and you shook your head, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning out too loud.

“Oh? You aren’t responding?” Mihawk smiles slightly as he leans on his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. “I asked you a question.”

You gasp out in realization and stammered out, trying to close your legs from the shock and orgasm you keep receiving.

“I-I mean no.. h-hah.. ah.. I, I don’t want it to loosen.” Your blush darkens at the embarrassment you held, but you loved this, just as much as Mihawk did.

-

Shanks

I could come up with a bunch of things but the first thing my mind went to was — sex tapes. Shanks is all for EVERYTHING but I feel like sex tapes seal the deal. Especially since he hooks up with so many women, I’m sure.

Shanks watches as the woman below him arches her back and curls her toes in pure bliss and euphoria.

The loud moans escaping her lips and filling the motel rooms only edged him further.

His tight grip on the woman’s left thigh glides up to grab the soft mound flesh on her left, his fingers twisting the little perky bud as he thrusted his hips roughly into her, eliciting a louder pleasurable cry.

The sound of skin slapping was the only thing heard other than the heavy grunts of Shanks and the mewls of the woman being fucked into oblivion.

Shanks, despite having the time of his life and was nearing his climax as he continued to thrust into the two small and tight lips, it’s walls clenching around him, could only think about the recording camera on its designated position on top of the drawer.

As much as he loved the real experience at the current moment, he couldn’t wait to rewatch the recording of it and relive the experience that way.

-

A/N: here you go, hun! I know you wanted a part 2 with these characters and I hope this went out you expected and wanted! :>

A few don’t have proper endings but it’s gooddd enoughhh for me. :p

jus wondering, what do y’all think Kid has? Master, sir, daddy or captain kink? Or none and just his name?

Law def has a “doc/doctor” kink lol but since I’m at it, I don’t think Marco has that.

#tooweirdforyou #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #x reader #op #one piece writing #dracule mihawk x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #one piece thatch x reader #one piece thatch #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #marco the phoenix x reader #marco the phoenix #eustass captain kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #ns.fw

[mrskurono]

title: Coworkers || Yuichiro Kurono x fem!Reader a/n: Did you know his favorite food is soft foods? What am I supposed to fucking do with this information- word count: 2.7k tags: fem!Reader, slow burn ish, office “romance”, idk I can’t write for shit, Kurono being fucking weird like normal, eluded to nudity, food character(s): Yuichiro Kurono (fire force) synopsis: Kurono is in your office space every morning at 5:53 on the dot but answers small talk for shit.

5:53 A.M. 

Mandatory or not you always arrived at work at the same time. Daily for the past six years in fact. 

Transport at this time of day was easier and less crowded. Not many people in the building either. And on the years Hajima changed their facilities meant you had more time when you needed to figure out how to get to work. It was just easier for you to get to work every day this early.

This early meant the same surprise every morning. Well, perhaps less of a surprise if it happened daily. You still smiled to yourself as you open the previously unlocked door. Sure you locked it when you cleaned up the day before. Not worried what laid in the room before you when you felt the pair of eyes on you.

A dark room. Alone. And someone staring at you in the unlit office space. All you did was hum quietly to yourself and set your bags down.

“Good morning Kurono.”

Silence even as you flicked on the fluorescent office light. Illuminating the slender well dressed man sitting stiffly in your high backed desk chair. Something like a covered container in his lap. His eerie expression unresponsive even though his golden eyes followed you through the same routine you did daily.

“The break room locked?” You set your duffle bag down at your feet looking at the container in his lip, “Here I can open it to-”

“Why do you have an extra bag?” Kurono looked at your things. Noticing the one thing different today than the others. 

“This?” You kicked the duffle bag you’d plopped down, “Oh, the water is out at my place. Figured I’d use the company sanitation showers before everyone else got in.”

He listened incredibly intently to your words. But did not offer any comradery to what you told him. Nothing you were phased by anymore as Kurono’s once residence turned into an occupation within the Hajima walls was as normal as anything else here. Working for the massive company much like yourself. Still though you wondered if he ever left or stayed here like the rest of the pyrokinetics housed within Hajima’s domain. 

“Is that what you had for breakfast this morning Kurono?” You revisited your first question. Unpacking your things with glances over at him in your chair.

Kurono broke his stare from you. Just to look down at the familiar container in his lap. Warmth from the meal he prepared this morning still seeping into his palms pressed flush to the container, “Curry.”

“Yum.”

“I made this for you.”

“Oh?” You looked up from your things, “That’s funny.”

Kurono’s broad mouth dipped down to a frown at what you might mean. Nothing seemed funny about a simple mandatory lunch.

Smiling you fished into the duffle bag and brought out two flower shaped plastic containers. Contents visible through the disposable treat and immediately Kurono knew what it was, “I picked you up some caramel pudding.”

“You didn’t have to.” He responded.

Leaving you to shrug as you set the pudding on the counter in front of you, “Yeah and you didn’t need to make me a lunch.”

“But you’re my superior.” Kurono said.

Your brow shot up, “So where’s President Gureo‘s lunch then?”

He looked down at the container in his hand. Getting up from the chair he’d been still in to just set the curry container next to the pudding you also brought, “Why waste my time on cooperate ladder climbing with people like that.”

“You mean the man who literally cuts us our paychecks?” You question with a smile thrown his way as he looms next to you, “I think people are supposed to schmooze with your actual boss Kurono.”

An exhale through his nose. He look at your folded clothing in your hands then to the pudding containers you brought, “I told you to call me Yuichiro.”

You pause and look over at him, “Aren’t you technically chief of the Power Development branch?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It would reason that I’m not you’re superior working in the medical branch and therefore use your last name.” You smile as you stack the pudding cups on top of the curry and then proceed to stack them on your work clothes still folded neatly from the night before, “I’m going to go put these in the break room fridge. Would you like to come with?”

Kurono did not nod or give any indicator he really even heard your question. But when you existed the room he was quick to follow you down the hall.

Empty save for one soul passed. Their nose buried in data sheets on one of the newest acquired children. Hijima’s search for an adolla burst knowing no bounds as time began to crunch. Leaving both of you normally buried in work like the one passing you. But it was these moments in the morning before clocking in that you both ignored work. 

“Are we on for lunch then?” You broke the silence finally in the break room when you were putting things away, “You have testing with Nataku correct?”

“Uncle Death will bring the boy’s adolla burst forth,” Kurono spoke, “It’s what I get paid to do after all.”

Setting your things in the fridge off to the side. Knowing everyone knew what Kurono’s containers looked like and kept their hands far from their temperamental coworkers. You were the only one brave or dumb enough to persist on maintaining a relationship with the embodied human of madness. While other’s reserved their warnings of the man after the first three years he’d been working with you all.

“You know, they pay you a salary,” You stood back up and looked over at him. Pudding in your hand as you shoved it to him and shut the fridge door behind you, “You could afford to live elsewhere.”

“I’m nothing but a slave to the working life,” Kurono’s eyes narrowed on the pudding you passed to him. Not rejecting it but standing there holding it as you finished up in the break room, “Besides, why waste the money when you come here to shower and you still live somewhere else. Being a cooperate slave I might as well stay here and use their facility. You do.” 

Shrugging you began out of the break room down the hall way to the sanitation showers. Kurono undoubtedly following you a step behind but not yet going his own way, “You got me there. But it’s nice to leave the slave labor here and use my meager weakling hours left to myself watching tv on my bed.”

“Only the weak would think living so fruitfully on a pathetic pay check.” Kurono’s dress shoes clicked down the hallway. Compared to your quiet slippers that were hardly heard.

“We have the same employer.”

“Exactly.”

Rolling your eyes. You stepped through the door way of the sanitation showers but stopped and looked back at him, “You can eat breakfast while I shower. I don’t mind.”

Why would you mind? This wasn’t the first time he hung around while you did something. And the countless times he’d been left in a hospital gown during treatments of his arms. Waiting in the nicely furnished locker room beat going back to his room with the container of pudding. 

Just like the lavish pay checks they paid their higher ups. Hajima took good care of it’s employees when it counted. Wash rooms included.  A grand room with ten different showering stations. All closed off with personal care for whoever was using it. And spotless individual sinks with illuminated mirrors for only the most meticulous care to an employees personal appearance. It was like the fanciest locker room in the world it seemed. But almost only ever used for chemical spills or employees covered in soot from tephrosis cases. Glamorous accommodations for less than glamourous work.

“Eat breakfast.” You smiled as you set your things down on the counter, “Then I’ll eat some of your curry, ok?”

Kurono’s ever unnerving eyes remained fixated on you. He wasn’t a prude by any means to dwell on your character more often than not. But he regularly wondered why you worked here even if it did have free showers. Miserable salary men worked here. Dream less humans who answered to a boss and that was it. This is where he worked. And yet you were here before Kurono could even recall his first pay check. Working and doing so much for just a pay check.

“Aye Kurono did you-”

“I don’t have a spoon.” He looked at the pudding held in his bandaged hand. A statement but meant more like he should just excuse himself.

“Nah it’s one of those cool ones with a spoon in the lid.” You leaned over and pointed at the top, “You can leave if you have something to do.”

Blinking down at the pudding. He peeled off the seal and opened the top. Just to find a tiny mock plastic spoon where you said it was, “It’s fine.”

You excuse yourself to only the first shower stall. Every one of them vacant but still you stay close enough so you can hear his voice. Ready to take a quick and quiet shower. But as the water rushes over your face you pause with a thought.

“Kurono.”

“I told you, it’s Yuichiro.”

Rolling your eyes as your lather soap all over yourself, you ignore him all together while staring at the tile on the wall in front of you, “How’s your arm?”

Looking down at the bandages crossing over his right arm. It was constantly there but often overlooked to the man, “Fine.”

“Did you use those pre soaked bandages I gave you?” Your noise drowning out with rushing water.

Kurono knew which ones they were. Not once had he opened the package since you gave it to him, “No.”

“Kurono really?” You groaned peeved, “I spent so long containing your overheat to just one arm. Now you neglect it since Hajima hired you?”

“I keep it wrapped.” He retorted frankly.

“Part of my work is still researching tephrosis.” You ran your hands over your face and wiped off as much water as you could before snagging your towel to wrap up in, “That goes for your arm. Just because we’re coworkers now instead of you being my patient.”

Stepping out of the stall thinking you’d see the pudding untouched and Kurono ignoring you. You see the cup empty and his arm resting in his lap as he sat up on the counter. Feet hardly dangling above the ground. Staring down at his right arm without an expression crossing his face. Not exactly what you were expecting from the normally stern and curt mouthed man.

Tightening the towel around your body. You blot off your face as you come up to him. One because he was sat by your things you needed. But also to look at his arm.

Bandaged not how you preferred it to be done. You groan and take his hand between yours. Pushing up his white work shirt’s sleeve and undoing the bandages from the top down to the bottom. Until his cracked and charred arm was exposed to the humid air of the locker room.

Familiar with how bad his tephrosis was. The worst case you’d seen saved for an infernals corpse who were literally burnt up to nothing but char and ash. It never stumped you though. Only made you work harder on what to do with this third generation problem. Leading you to try some less than ethical approaches to treating it. Much like most of the Hajima labs methods of trial and air.

“...are you worried I experiment on you?” You asked quietly as you touched down his blackened forearm. 

“No.” Kurono shook his head without a chance of concern being on his face.

With only the one bandage. You reach up to start it high and slowly rebandage his arm as you stand before him. Silence falling on the both of you as the drip of the shower echoes in the tiled room. Kurono’s eyes not on his arm. But instead on you as he watches you concentrate on the bandages.

“...if you could do anything else, even a dream, what would it be?” You asked as your fingers worked the white bandage over his decaying knuckles and between each charred fingers.

“Cooperate dogs don’t have dreams. All I do is work.” Kurono answered bluntly.

“Yuichiro,” You made the bandages around his fingers snug when he didn’t answer you truthfully, “We work at the same place. I know you have dreams. We all do.”

“No. I don’t,” He spoke up this time. Looking from his right arm to your face just a few feet from his, “Dreams are for the weak only to keep doing what they do. Simple as that.”

Giving him a skeptical look you rub your fingertips over his knuckles. Feeling the almost living warmth from his blackened hand. Even under the thick bandages and it felt nothing like flesh yet retained such a human warmth to it, “So you hate your job. And you hate it here?”

What was he supposed to hate? Fighting weaklings and humiliating them for their weakness? This was a dream come true. You knew this. The entire company knew this. Still you pestered him for some weak idea of what a rightful dream was supposed to be. Could he just not work in peace? He didn’t get paid enough to put up with all these demands.

“...no.” Kurono flexed his hand before him, “It’s alright here...for work.” You rest your hand on his arm with a smile lingering on your lips. Giving him a squeeze when Kurono looks at you with a hint of a scowl, “What? I’m a professional business man after all.”

“Yeah. I know you are.” Still smiling you lean in to press a ginger kiss to his pale cheek, “But it’s not business hours yet so I won’t tell everyone you like it here.”

A cross between a sigh and a groan emanated from his chest. Kurono pushed himself off the counter and straightened his tie along with the little skull clip holding it down, “That curry is yours.”

Gathering your things to go back in and change. Unable to keep the smile off your face as you look at him standing there firmly like he always did. You can’t help laugh a little, “Don’t worry. We’re still on for lunch.”

Kurono looked down. Rubbing his hand over his bandage covered wrists. It would feel almost awkward if he wasn’t standing there with an utterly malicious look permanently on his face, “...the wraps you gave me are still in the work lockers. I didn’t apply them correctly.”

Knowing that was a lie. You still appreciated the sentiment and nodded towards him, “Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to put them on at break.”

“Thank you.” He remained looking down at his arms.

You pause before going back into the stall. Contemplating your wording before just going for it, “Yuichiro.” His gold eyes snap up to his first name, “If you ever want a vacation from the soul sucking life of a salary man. You can always come stay at my place yknow.”

“The place with no water?”

Rolling your eyes you snort, “I’ll buy bottled just like the ones in the break room for you.”

There was a moment you thought he would out right reject the offer. He was a professional business man after all. Bound to this dream less job and nothing else. But there was spare second in which Kurono squeezed his right arm and then looked up at you.

“Fine....but I’m making the food. I hate hard things.” 

Shaking your head smiling you slipped past the shower curtain, “I know you do. Good thing I like your cooking.”

It was a good thing you liked his cooking. And it was a good thing Kurono liked your company. He had no idea what to do outside work. But after all these years you still prevailed in making him think of something other than work. If that was strength or not. Kurono couldn’t decide. So he’d just keep making you lunch every day and hating his job. What else was he supposed to do? It’s not like he had any other dreams.

#fire force #fire force x reader #fire force kurono #enn enn no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai kurono #enen no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai x reader #kurono yuichiro #kurono #kurono yuichiro x reader #yuichiro kurono #yuichiro kurono x reader

[waywardimpalawriter]

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie  @slightlyobsessedwithissues  

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

#Request #SPN Mixed Bingo Square #Hurt/Comfort #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Supernatural fiction

[malleux]

[5] - not special

table of contents

-> scaramouche x fem!reader | gang!au

-> warnings: blood, injuries, fighting, threats

a/n: this was kind of a filler?? idk i wanted mc to go through some moral dilemmas i tried my hardest enjoy

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“Are you going to talk to me finally? You’re still supposed to be in bed.”

Only a hum fell out of Scaramouche’s mouth as he made his way into the living room where you sat, watching whatever dumb show you could find on the shitty cable. He reached for the first-aid kit on the coffee table, wincing as his fingers barely grazed the handle before you latched onto the plastic box, yanking it away from him.

“What the fuck? Give it back.”

“No. I’m supposed to be the one to change your bandages, I’m not about to have the rest of a fucking gang mad at me because their stubborn leader wouldn’t let me do what they told me to.”

Scaramouche slowly rose up from the chair, holding his hand out towards you. “You don’t even know how to change a bandage. Fucking give me the kit.”

You held it close to your chest. “No.”

His eyebrow raised in a way that you would consider pretty fucking hot if you weren’t so terrified of this man. Fear overpowers horniness in such a situation, apparently. It was in your best interest to just hand over the first-aid kit, but La Signora told you to do it and there was anyone you were most afraid of out of the Fatui, it was her. You were going to do it.

In a moment of pure bravery, you slapped Scaramouche’s hand away. He withdrew quickly, eyes hardening even more if possible. You stood up even faster, knocking the throw pillows off of the couch and awaited the end of your life.

“You have three seconds,” He seethed, “To give me that kit. One.”

Scaramouche took one step forward. You took one back.

“Two.”

Another step. You stumbled over your feet.

“Three.”

Your back was against the wall, Scaramouche’s arm pressing against your throat. You couldn’t breathe, clawing at his skin in a futile attempt to get him to release you. He wouldn��t budge, pressing harder. You could feel your throat collapsing under the pressure.

The first-aid kit dropped to the floor, but Scaramouche didn’t move.

You couldn’t speak, only gasping for air that wouldn’t arrive. Your lungs burned.

He leaned in towards you, his breath hot against your ear. “Next time, I won’t be this merciful.”

You dropped to the ground at his feet, coughing as air finally flooded in you. Your head was spinning as you watched him pick up the kit. It was pitiful- how you couldn’t seem to stand up for yourself. He couldn’t expect you to be completely complacent when you were practically kidnapped, right?

“The last person to talk to me like that ended up at the bottom of a river.” Scaramouche stood over you still, his sharp features resembling that of a knife that you knew he would dig into you at another misstep. “If you do it again, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between those pretty eyes of yours.”

With that, he plopped back onto the couch with a sigh and grabbed the hem of his black tee, pulling the material over his head and hissing in pain as the wound stretched. “Are you going to help me or not?”

You scrambled over to Scaramouche from the floor, like the dog this gang is turning you into, and with shaky hands reached towards his lean torso. Scars littered his body, from the waistband of his jeans up, where a single tattoo rested on his left collarbone. Gripping the edge of the bandage, you began to slowly pull it off and tried not to wretch as the gunshot wound came into view.

It wasn’t because of the blood. No, that was never a problem.

It was because you caused it.

“What are you staring at, dipshit?”

You startled and turned towards the kit, getting antibiotic ointment and fresh bandages. Your heart pounded so loudly, you could barely hear him speak again.

“I was talking to you. I suggest you answer.”

“Trying to remember how to do this.” You lied.

According to your morals, Scaramouche was a bad person. He commits crimes for a living, and has definitely killed more than one person. He probably does it in his free time, for crying out loud. So why weren’t you trying harder to escape?

You tell yourself it’s pure idiocy as you apply the ointment onto a gauze pad before placing it against the bullet wound, trying to ignore the way Scaramouche’s abdomen tenses beneath your fingers. Or how his breath hitches slightly as the cold medicine reaches raw flesh, never quite getting used to the feeling despite being injured much more than this.

It definitely is plain stupidity for you to stick around, but what is the missing piece? If you’re admitting that keeping yourself in such danger instead of running away is ridiculous, then what continues to hold you back?

Is it curiosity? Interest in the backgrounds of the people who live such a harsh, unforgiving life? The stories behind the hardened gazes- would they even be willing to tell them?

Or is it the small, fleeting hope that the Fatui can protect you? The fear that Baal and the rest of her gang is somehow currently searching for you, associating you as one of the “bad guys” for accidentally bad-mouthing her may prevent you from leaving. A sliver of internal faith that because these people saved you at the cafe, they’d do it again if you stayed near?

“Why?”

Your voice comes out meeker than you would have liked, and you internally cringe at the vulnerability in it. Scaramouche perked up from his hands, where he was picking black polish off of his nails.

“What?”

“Why me?” You were a little more confident now, shriveling a little less under his sharp gaze. “You could’ve saved yourselves so much trouble if you just killed me. So why are you keeping me around?”

“You think you’re special because we didn’t kill you?” Scaramouche sneered, “The Fatui don’t believe in unnecessary deaths. We try to do all of our business diplomatically first, then go further when needed. We didn’t choose you. We haven’t done shit to you- you just bring trouble for yourself and us.”

You remained silent as you began cleaning the first-aid supplies, any feelings you had of possibly befriending Scaramouche dwindling quickly. You hoped the rest of the day would go by without any more bumps in the road, but you knew that was futile when the front door swung open with a little more force than what any of the Fatui would use.

Suddenly, Scaramouche was by your side and dragging you into the pantry closet, clasping his hand over your mouth before you had the chance to react.

“Stay quiet,” He whispered, “Inazuman agents are here.”

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