#Bunker Lyrics

[nibinsects]

lizert + scuggies

[passiveagressivepoet]

cas and dean would share the same vocal stims

[bedroom-kingdom]

Wondering what you said Why can't you say it to me? Wondering what you said Why can't you say it to me? Wondering what you said Why can't you say it to me? Wondering what you said Why can't you say it to me? You know it's written on a wall But you can't find a word to say The silence really says it all So run away You drop that through for me to find But I'm not going down that cave Your silence really says it all So run away Wondering what you said Why can't you say it to me? Wondering what you said Why can't you say it to me?

Kicked Out by Seven Double Virgo Eros in the Bunker

2022 • United Kingdom

[starswallowingsea]

[jonathanbyersphd]

I know they're old but I'm obsessed with the Spotify official playlists. Mostly because Jonathan's is such Simp behavior

LIKE SIR WE GET IT

You're in love with Nancy Wheeler

[sarah-scr1bbles]

Ok, here me out

I feel like this song would REALLY work with dess holiday

[hopelessromanticghost]

She uses the guilt to her advantage, much better than God does

("Ella usa la culpa a su favor, mucho mejor que Dios") No me hables de sufrir by Los Bunkers

[candont]

Disappointed to figure out this isn't a 36 hour event and instead 2 nights from 10 to 6. Mostly because my geezer ass would only ever be able to get there during daylight

[katamarigender]

i've never used ravedj before but this turned out better than i thought it would!

[dearest-nell]

a real piece of art

e.m x reader, 2.8k

summary: eddie has some time to kill, and you might just be his new favourite distration. includes: art history student!reader, meet cute, eddie's an absolute dork warnings: mentions of nudity in artwork and allusions to a young eddie who is very excited by the prospect.

a/n: this came to me as i stared blankly into the void of my coffee machine this morning. i'm incapable of proofreading as per usual. i could be convinced to do a part two

Eddie had no business being here. This was an art gallery for crying out loud! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in one, save that one unfortunate field trip in middle school where he’d been caught ogling a half naked sculpture in front of half the class. Sue him, he’d never seen a naked girl before, and he really had to give credit to the artist because he couldn’t look away. He’d been called a perv for a good year after that, and he’d never thought to visit another gallery again. 

Until now, that was. He was due for a practice and soundcheck in what he thought was only an hour, but somewhere along the line Jeff had got the time wrong, leaving Eddie stuck in Chicago with nothing but his ego to keep him company. Eddie had kicked himself for the mistake – who rehearses at 10 am anyways? There was a silent agreement that Gareth would be handling the bookings next time, where Eddie might be able to actually stay in bed until a reasonable hour. 

He’d thought to burrow down in a cafe for a little while, but the snooty businessmen and shrill giggles of the barista had sent him fleeing. The environment wasn’t conducive to good thinking anyways. He figured a little solace would do him some good, maybe give him some hard earned inspiration to turn into music for the band. So with coffee in hand, he’d taken to the streets, wandering idly as the strings of bodies moved in tandem, dodging and weaving the tracks of Tuesday morning commutes. It might have been enough for him had his jacket not been too thin for the sudden drop in temperature. Worn denim with steamed patches was hardly enough to break the piercing gusts of wind, and even his sweltering coffee in hand could not keep his hands from shaking. Looking around, Eddie felt out of luck. Cafe’s seemed too busy, and he had no real desire to start wandering shops nearby, so what was there left to do? 

$14 later, Eddie puffed a relieved sigh as the warmth of the gallery enveloped him, that trembling cold slowly dissipating from his veins until his hands no longer felt like ice. He figured he’d have taken any sanctuary, though he had been hoping maybe for a Library. At least then he could have bunkered down somewhere with a book. What did you even do at a gallery anyways?  He didn’t see much point in wandering around, scanning his eyes over paintings that seemed a million years old. He didn’t get art. Music was his art, after all. Even as he started to walk, all the pieces seemed to bleed together for him. Acrylics and oils and gouache melted into the blur of faces and places and things. Sure, they looked pretty, but Eddie couldn’t see why anyone would waste their time to sit and paint something like this, let alone stare at it for hours. 

He passed through room after room like this, brows furrowed, arms crossed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. Music and melody had meaning, lyrics filled with the words people couldn’t seem to say any other way. The sounds of instruments were sounds of heartbeats, of head rushes and blood flow and heart aches and burning desires – paintings couldn’t do that, could they? 

Wandering into a smaller room, Eddie found himself caught as his eyes fixated on perhaps the only worthwhile piece of art he had seen all morning. There you were, perched somewhat uncomfortably on the plush leather seat in the room's centre, head resting delicately into cupped palms, your elbows propping you up into a figure he was sure was only meant for statues. You looked like one of the Greek ones, he thought, all soft and graceful curves, pretty lines and prettier expressions. There was a notebook in your lap, though Eddie couldn’t begin to make out what the blurry pen strokes might have  noted at this distance. 

You seemed so lost in thought as you stared at the piece directly before you, eyebrows knitted in concentration to match the deep set focus of your eyes, and Eddie, despite himself, was lost in you. 

It was a horrifying notion to realise he was back in this same situation again, entirely different and yet all the same. Here he was, stuck motionless, staring helplessly at something beautiful, something entirely foreign to him. Naked breasts had been enough to melt a twelve year old Eddie’s mind, but this Eddie, now grown, was entirely transfixed for another reason. Never in his life had just looking at a person knocked the wind right out of him. This was beyond attraction, he thought. Beyond a pretty face and a beautiful body and all those hormones that made people spin. You were all of that, and so much more. 

How he knew that seemed entirely out of reach, but the thought settled in him all the same. 

Eddie watched the subtle angle of your head, the way you tried to see from a different perspective, before fixating your attention on your notebook once more, scribbling away furiously at stained parchment. 

All better judgement seemed to leave him as he approached, slow and long strides to avoid the echoes of boots against floorboards in such vastness. His body took residence beside the lounge, standing tall at the opposite end, arms crossing as he tried to see what it was that had you so fascinated. 

Cheese. Bread. Nuts of some kind. He tilted his head as you had, browns furrowing in confusion. Still cheese. Still bread. Still nuts of some kind. He let out a defeated huff. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hadn’t expected you to speak, let alone notice him, but when he turned his chin towards you he was met with a curious expression. You were even more captivating up close, as it turned out, so much so that he could not decide what captured his attention more. The soft bags of sleepless nights hung low under your eyes, your cheeks flushed with a dusty sort of colour that only the artifice of candies could achieve, your cheeks indented so delicately with the lines of so many smiles that had come before. 

It was embarrassing in his eyes that he was still gawking, and even more embarrassing that you had to ask your question a second time. 

“Oh– yeah. I mean… yeah. Sorry. Was I being too loud?” 

The soft shake of your head was accompanied by an even gentler smile, and Eddie felt his shoulders ease a fraction away from his ears. 

“No, not at all. Just seemed like a forlorn sigh.” You pointed out, uncrossing your legs to lower your feet to the ground. 

Eddie’s brow raised, his tone lilting with amusement. “Forlorn, huh?” 

You shrugged, though Eddie could see the slow creep of embarrassment flush your cheeks, your hand lifting to rub at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just the first word that came to mind.” 

Eddie was smiling before he knew what he was doing. “I like it. Forlorn. Like it’s from a poem, or something.” 

A soft hum of contemplation fell from your lips, your pen scratching nervously in the margins of your notebook, patterns of stars falling into the sea of words below. “Could be. Poets are meant to be all crestfallen and stuff.” 

He actually laughed at that, something sounding like a punched out breath leaving him, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. 

“Are you a writer or somethin’? You don’t just hear people saying words like that every day. Gotta know them by trade.” 

You shrugged again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the curve of your ear. “Student, actually. Art history, so I guess fancy words are part of the curriculum.” 

It seemed strange to be meeting you like this, like someone high above had heard his complaints only to send him an angel to set him straight. An art student; maybe you could teach him a thing or two. 

Eddie gestured to the seat beside you, flat palm dampened nervously at the prospect of speaking to someone so pretty, so much more learned than him. You nodded shyly, not bothering to adjust as he took up the empty space beside you, his elbows propping on his knees for comfort. 

“Can I ask you something, then? Since all of this is your thing.” 

You closed your notebook, folding your legs beneath you once more as you fixated your attention on him – something Eddie was sure no man could ever tire of wanting from you. “Sure”. 

“Why are you staring at this one? Out of all the pictures in this place, what makes cheese so interesting.” 

The astonished little chuckle that left you was something sacred, golden and warm and louder than he had anticipated. You could put that laugh to song. Maybe he would. 

“It’s not the cheese,’ You clarify, your smile never shifting from your lips, “though it looks great, doesn’t it? Looks real.” 

Eddie took in the piece once more, letting his eyes trace over the food to take in the finer details. It was true; it looked real. He could see the shadows, the cracks in the bread, the crumbs that had fallen onto the platter below. He realised it mustn’t have been easy to make something so real. It felt like a snapshot. 

Oh fuck, do I get art now? 

“Yeah, it looks real. Kinda crazy real, actually. How do they get it looking like that?” 

“It’s different for different people. This one’s by Peeters, and no one’s sure where she learned to paint, but she was one of the only female professionally working artists of the 17th century. She was a big deal.” 

Eddie tilted his head towards you. “Is that why you like her, then?” 

You shook your head, scrunching up your nose. “It’s very impressive, but it’s not the only reason. I was looking for her signature.” 

Eddie did not need to clarify himself, the confusion that etched across his face spoke volumes, leaving you to laugh again in amusement. 

“A lot of artists leave signatures so you know a work is theirs. Sometimes it’s their name, or an item, or a seal – sometimes it’s on the back, sometimes it’s made to look part of the picture. She writes her name down at the bottom, see?” 

You leaned in a little closer to Eddie, lining up his gaze with your own so you could point out a flourish of cursive in the corner. Drawn into you, Eddie could not help but lean into your orbit, his eyes following the line of your finger to its destination. “Oh yeah. Musician’s do that too, y’know. Chuck in a riff or a line or something to leave their mark.” 

“Seems like it’s an artist's thing. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

Eddie liked the insinuation that musicians were artists. He’d met too many people in his life who’d thought otherwise, who did not understand the value of art. He supposed he was one of them, though. He’d been ratting on the art around him only five minutes earlier. 

“You like music, then?” He asked, eagerness in his voice betraying the cool persona he was hoping to achieve. 

“I love music.” You confirmed, hands busily occupying themselves by twiddling the pen in your lap once more. “I wish they played music here. Imagine looking at all the art and listening to songs that fit. There’s these big dramatic paintings a few rooms over that are just begging for a rock instrumental to accompany it, and the cheese…” you trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to have been so caught up in the idea. “I feel like I'd be lost in it forever.” 

Eddie closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the vision of your little dream settle in his mind. He could get around that, art and music together – two worlds colliding. It seemed all the more enticing to think you would be there too, humming away as you watched the paintings and he watched you. 

“I think it sounds brilliant. You tell me when you’re building this fancy gallery and I’ll be the first one there.” 

He might have died at the sincerity with which you smiled. No heart was meant to withstand such adoration brimming inside of it. 

“You know, I–” you paused, garnering some courage to find the words, “the signature I was talking about before? That wasn’t the one that had me looking at this. The cheese, I mean.” You gestured vaguely towards the canvas before you, though Eddie was unwilling to peel his eyes from the work of art before him. 

“Yeah? What had you looking, then?” He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life, Eddie actually cared about what was splayed across a canvas. Whatever it was that intrigued you so, he was aching to know. 

“She painted herself in the reflection of the lid on the jug. Up the top… see?” Adjusting the items in your lap, you slowly rose to your feet, extending a hand out to drag the boy up with you. Eddie faltered only for a second, contemplating whether this one single touch would make or break him. Would the sweat of his palms disgust you? He was so nervous to talk to you, after all, to take this chance. He swallowed, slipping calloused fingers into your own until he felt unperturbed digits grasp his own, your expression unphased as you guided him towards the wall. 

You both paused a foot short, your free hand pointing upwards to guide his flittering eyes. Lo and behold, painted so delicately into the reflection of the jug, was a face staring back at him. His hand squeezed your own with untapped excitement, and Eddie’s mouth dropped. 

“Holy shit, that’s so cool. That’s really her?” 

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, that’s Clara.”

It was silent for a beat, the two of you soaking in the image before you; the woman in and amongst all the pieces of a life lived so long ago. It was a moment in history, much like the one the two of you were caught in now. 

Eddie marvelled helplessly, unsure what seemed to amaze him more; all these details that he never would have noticed if it weren’t for you, or the fact that you, a complete stranger, were still holding on to his hand as if it were something normal. For the briefest moment, he wondered if this could be normal, you and him. 

“I think this is the ultimate signature in a painting, just writing yourself into the story like that. It’s such a small thing, but… it changes everything, doesn’t it?” You broke the silence, voice a little dream like as you spoke. Eddie could only nod dumbly, a contented smile spreading across his face. 

“You wouldn’t wanna show me more of these, would you?” 

Eddie couldn’t stand the idea that you might walk away after this, back to your own life that until now had been so far away from his own. He wanted to walk the whole gallery with you, your hand in his, your voice whispering sweet nothings about the history and details of the world around you. 

The sheer excitement that crossed your features was an expression unmatched, never before seen. It was like he had asked you the one question you had been waiting for your whole life. Maybe you had been. Maybe no one had ever taken interest in the thing you seemed to love so much. He knew what that was like after all, his music had not been everyone's cup of tea. 

Maybe it could be yours.

“Oh, I– really?” 

“Only if you want to. I spent my whole time here trying to work out what made this stuff so special; I think you might be the one to show me. I’ll buy you coffee as thanks, if you like. I mean… I’d like to take you out for coffee.” 

He felt like a bumbling idiot, pausing to breathe an embarrassed chuckle. “You can also tell me to get lost at any time.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed the way your hand seemed to tighten in his own, the movement causing his heart to beat in unsteady rhythms. It was something so small that seemed to shift his entire world – your hand holding his. 

Your head tilted with a smile. “You never said your name, y’know.” 

“Eddie.” He breathed out a little too fast. He’d have to kick himself later for it, because right now, he was too fixated on the way his foolishness seemed to make you smile all the wider. 

“Eddie.” You echoed, turning your body to face his own. “I’d love a coffee.” 

It took everything in him not to fist bump in triumph, his body aching to wriggle with the excitement that was slowly taking over muscle by muscle. How the hell had his morning turned out this good? 

“Sounds like a date, then.”

(images not mine)

“Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels” by Clara Peeters (ca. 1615)

[little-diable]

Marry Me - Dean Winchester (smut)

This can be read as a part 2 to this fic - but you don’t need to read it to understand the story line. The lyrics are from the song “Joy of my Life” by Chris Stapleton. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean finally finds his confidence to ask (y/n) to marry him.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car smut, super fluffy, slight jealousy and possessiveness

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2k words)

She's sweet to me, must be the luckiest man alive. Did I tell you, baby, you are the joy of my life?

“Isn't it funny that this car has seen all our good but also our ugly days?” (Y/n)’s voice filled the Impala as she held onto her food, taking another bite while letting her eyes wander. Dean and her were parked in the middle of nowhere, another getaway from Sam and the bunker the couple had been desperate for. 

It had been a while since Dean had taken her stargazing, letting their eyes take in the most beautiful spectacle, while Dean’s hand had found the small pocket of his jacket, touching the box of the ring he had been carrying around with himself for a while. 

“She really has, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Dean studied his girlfriend with an unreadable expression (y/n) tried to pay no mind to as she got lost in her memories, remembering the first time she had sat in the Impala. 

“So, that’s Baby, huh?” She whispered the words while she let her fingertips trace the leather of the dark seat she sank into. A proud smirk was resting on Dean’s lips as he nodded his head, mimicking her wandering gaze. 

“My most prized possession.” The words had left Dean’s parted lips before he could stop himself, cursing himself for saying this to his new girlfriend. But all (y/n) did was laugh and shake her head at her grinning boyfriend who stared at her with excitement laced in his gaze.

“What is it, Dean?” Her voice grew lower as the words rumbled through her, letting them vibrate on her lips. He moved closer to press a kiss to her lips while his right hand found the back of her headrest, keeping himself close to her. 

“The backseats are quite comfortable, if you feel like testing them out.” Dean’s words drew a gritty laugh from (y/n) as she only nodded her head before finding her way to the backseat. Within seconds she found herself straddling Dean’s lap while their lips got lost in a rough kiss. 

“I still remember the first time you introduced me to Baby, I was sure you’d eventually end up marrying your car.” Her laughter had an addicting effect on Dean, drawing a few from him as well while he kept studying (y/n). His heart began to beat faster in his chest as his thoughts began to race. 

Perhaps this was the moment he had always been waiting for. This was the perfect spot, hidden in the dark, while Baby offered them enough comfort and distraction, away from their busy life and home. Dean took one last bite of his burger before he wiped his fingers and slowly reached for his pocket, closing his fist around the velvety black box. 

(Y/n) had her all too oblivious gaze focused on the window, once again remembered of another night they had spent in this car. 

Silence filled Baby. A thick silence that left (y/n)’s heart painfully clenching in her chest. No word had been shared between her and Dean since their fight, an escalation of jealous words and angry sensations they couldn’t shake. 

“Do you really think I’d cheat on you?” Her voice was small as she spoke the words, letting them rumble through Baby while she shuffled around on the seat to look at Dean, who was laying behind her. 

It took him a few moments to speak up as he closed eyes as if he was trying to shake the memories of what had drawn these ugly words from his parted lips. It had been foolish, a stupid mistake he had instantly regretted as tears had welled up in her eyes. 

“No, I don’t.” She was a friendly soul, always had been, but it was something Dean clearly struggled to accept, especially when she shared one of the smiles he wanted to be the only one receiving, with strangers. She was a beautiful woman, it was no surprise that men chatted her up whenever she stood alone, without Dean near, and yet it still left him spiralling, urged on by his fear of losing her. 

“You know,” (y/n) cleared her throat as she also finished her food. Slowly she turned her head back towards her boyfriend, while pondering over the words she so desperately had wanted to speak for months now. “We haven’t really talked about marriage and all these things before, but I can’t help but wonder, if that is even something you’d want.” 

Dean could tell that she was nervous about speaking these words, struggling to let them roll off her tongue while fumbling with her fingers. A shaky exhale left him before he reached for her hand with his free one, letting their fingers interlace. 

“Do you remember when we went stargazing a few weeks ago?” (Y/n) could only nod her head with a slight confusion tugging on her features. 

“I had promised myself that I’d ask you to marry me that night, but even though I was never so sure of something as I am of the love I have for you, I still fear that one day you’ll pack your bags to run from this mess we are stuck in. Sam told me that I don’t need to be scared, because you’d never do that. And I know that, deep down I really do, but perhaps it wasn’t the right moment, the right day. But now, here, with Baby,” the rest of his sentence was left hanging in the air. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she watched Dean pull his left hand from the pocket of his jacket, exposing a small box to her eyes.

“Will you marry me, (y/n)?” The words were whispered, filling the small space before a sob broke out of her. All (y/n) could do was whisper a small "Of course" as Dean opened the box to expose the most beautiful ring she has ever seen. 

Both their hands were shaking. Dean had his eyes set on her finger as he slowly slid the ring onto it – all while being unable to bite down his grin at the sight. Her hands found his cheeks to pull him in for a teeth clashing kiss, drawing desperate moans from them in unison. 

First time that I saw you, you took my breath away. I might not get to Heaven, but I walked with the angels that day

“I love you, Dean Winchester.” She mumbled the words against his lips as he held her close, letting another shaky though relieved sigh pass his lips. 

“I love you too, future Misses Winchester.” Her teary laughter rumbled through her as Dean kissed her again, deepening the kiss with his wandering tongue and his impatient hands. Her mind was racing, still trying to understand what had just happened, something she had been thinking of since meeting Dean, and yet she had never dared to have the talk with him.

God, how lucky she was, getting married to the man she never wanted to part from again, forever glued to his side as if their fate had been interlinked since their births. 

“Backseat?” His question vibrated against her lips while (y/n) choked on her moan, desperate for him to fuck her on the seats that had experienced their best and their worst moments. For a second, they parted, to find their way to the backseats, before (y/n) straddled his lap and let her hands undo his trousers, while they kissed again, and again. 

“I can’t believe I get to marry you. I must have done something right after all.” Dean’s words left her heart clenching in her chest. (Y/n) wanted to tell him that there was so much he had done right in his life, that there were so many things he should be proud of, but the words died on her tongue as his fingers disappeared beneath her dress to wander over the damp fabric of her panties. The groan leaving Dean made her buzz in excitement, unable to bite down a groan of her own. 

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me, sweetheart.” He began to rub her pulsing bundle through the thin fabric, while she finally managed to free his hardening cock. Their eyes held contact as (y/n) spat into her hand before she began to pump him, giving them both enough courage to let go of their sounds to fill the dark Impala. 

“Dean, don’t waste any time, I want to feel you inside of me.” Her moaned words left Dean chuckling in glee, a gritty sound that made her walls clench around nothing, begging him to finally sink into her. Their eyes held contact as his tongue kissed his teeth, sinking further into the seat while his fingers pushed her panties aside. She held her dress up to offer him a view that made his cock twitch, watching her position herself while he could only stare up at her and thank his lucky stars for pushing them together. 

Both let go of a heavy moan as (y/n) sank down on his cock. She allowed herself to rest for a moment, to push her forehead against his, while both took a deep breath. Slowly she began to move, supported by Dean’s hands, who couldn’t stop his fingertips from digging into her skin. 

The sound of their bodies moving filled Baby, followed by sinful sounds they couldn’t stop from breaking through them. Both were grateful for the darkness that had wrapped them in a comforting embrace, clinging to them to hide their frames from anybody who could walk past the Impala. Stuck in their own bubble, forever interlinked.

“I always knew you were perfect for me, fuck, I can’t believe I get to marry you.” Dean’s head rolled back against the headrest to stare at his now fiancée, the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever been fortunate enough to look at. She was perfect in any and every way, crafted for him only, made to cling to his body. God, sex had never felt like that before he had met (y/n), it had never been this intense, this raw, this loving. He wouldn’t trade this for the world, forever glued to her side. 

“Dean,” (y/n) whined his name as she reached for his hand to push it closer to her pulsing bundle, needing the extra friction to push that familiar heat through her aching body. Their foreheads met, pressed together as they trembled, knowing that their highs were oh so very close. 

He couldn’t stop his hips from meeting her thrusts, trying to bury himself even deeper inside of her as she trembled in his lap. He’d fight every creature, every being for this sight. Dean would do anything to hold her like this for the rest of their lives. 

“Look at me, (y/n).” His choked words forced her eyes to meet his green ones, holding contact as she came for him. Dean’s hips began to move again, jerking upwards to fuck them through her high, only to follow her a few seconds later to imprint himself on her walls. 

“I can’t wait for the night of our wedding.” Dean panted the words that drew a laugh from (y/n). She rested her forehead on his shoulder, holding herself to him as he was still buried deep inside of her. 

“Of course this is the only thing you think of. I can’t believe I’m marrying such a horny bastard.” His hands began to tickle her, forcing a loud laugh out of (y/n) as she threw her head back, letting the sounds fill the car.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.” 

Some may have their riches, some may have their worldly things, as long as I have you, I′ll treasure each and every day

Just take me by the hand, I am the luckiest man alive, did I tell you, baby, you are the joy of my life?

[vacayisland]

Can I request a floyd x fem!kpop troll who was in her own group and Floyd’s reaction when he finds out? (If you need help w groups I suggest girls generation/SNSD or twice :D)

@!; I never knew! Floyd / Fem!Kpop Troll! Reader

"Tag list"! @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq

ꨄ︎ Having met Floyd after your group had blew up, you were hesitant to tell him about your career. Not because you didn't trust him nor were you ashamed of yourself or your group members, yet... he was one of the first people who didn't know who you were. He didn't know your K-pop group, he didn't know your stage name, he didn't call you or fangirl over you when he saw you. It was honestly refreshing, really refreshing.

ꨄ︎ You had joint your group for fun, at first; you thought having a group of other like minded people to rise to fame with would be fucking amazing. And while it was, the amount of fans you guys got swamped with was, well, unbearable. You loved the support, you loved your fans, yet finally finding someone who didn't know who you were was like finding a needle in a hay stack. Especially when your management had managed to get your groups music in every tribe after the events at the Hard Rock tribe. It not only blasted your popularity within the K-Pop trolls group, and their following, yet throughout the other tribes. And you didn't want to ruin the thing you had going with Floyd; so you kept your mouth shut.

ꨄ︎ Every time you had to do something with your group, you always made up an excuse for Floyd. Little yet believable things, like "Oh my sister is sick, I have to take care of her", "I'm spending time with family", "I had a long day and need a moment to myself", "I'm baking with friends", "girls only sleep over sorry", "I'm not in the village right now!". You know, simple white lies that had some sort of truth behind them. You hated lying to Floyd, especially when you two were really clicking, yet you also couldn't tell him the truth; not yet. And Floyd always seemed to not mind, always respected your plans and you, so you thought it was alright.

ꨄ︎ Meanwhile, when you weren't hanging out with Floyd, Floyd was hanging out with his brothers, Poppy, and Viva. It was always casual hangouts either in Branch's bunker, Poppy's pod, or else where around the village. Yet, one day while hanging out in Branch's bunker, Poppy brought out Branch's record player. She began exclaiming, basically shouting and springing with excitement, with how Branch had got her a new vinyl of this band that Poppy loves! Bruce encouraged her to play it, and well Poppy and Viva squealed and danced around while listening to it. "Oh hey, it's that new band." Bruce mumbled, recognizing the tune and lyrics, as well as the voices, of the k-pop band that was currently running a rampage in his house. "My kids love these girls."

ꨄ︎ That was the first time Floyd was exposed to your music, or k-pop in general. He enjoyed it, so he had asked Branch where he bought it and went to go buy himself a copy so he could listen to it at his own pod. He even sent you a photo of the vinyl after he got it!

ꨄ︎ "Hey, look at this new group my brothers introduced me to! Do you know them? They sound really good."

ꨄ︎ As soon as you got that message, and looked at the vinyl record, you freaked out. You scared the shit out of your fellow members, who stared at you so confused and concerned; Even your make-up stylist was concerned. "Hey, hey! What's wrong?" One of them would asked, panickily rushing to your side. You were sure they thought that you just got a message of Floyd cheating on you with another guy. But nope, "He bought one of our vinyls! He knows about our music!" "Oh. you know I thought this would be more serious-" "THIS IS SERIOUS!"

ꨄ︎ You accidentality left Floyd on read for 10 minutes as you explained to the others that you had never told Floyd about your association with this group. You had never told him you sang, or you were apart of this big K-pop group that blew up globally and you weren't sure how to tell him and it's not like you want to tell him incase that somehow ruined your current relationship! It was a lot to confess, especially when you all were getting ready for a show. Your other members stared at you like you were a little mental for your line of reasoning. And maybe you were, but you didn't want to out yourself now! You've been keeping this up for 7 months!

ꨄ︎ That's when Floyd texted you again: "Hey, are you okay? I saw you read my message and you don't usually leave me on read. Unless something happened?"

ꨄ︎ And you had no choice but to respond! You couldn't leave him on read twice. "Hey, sorry something just came up. Yeah, I've heard of them they're pretty good."

ꨄ︎ "Did you really just call us good?" Your group was now peaking over your shoulder, silently reading the conversation to themselves as it played out. They had always been curious about you and this Floyd fellow, and now they understood why you never introduced them. "That's either really egotistical or just sad you think we're so bad." Commented one of them to your left, and you would have agreed with her in you weren't under a lot of pressure right now! "I don't know, I'm panicking!"

ꨄ︎ You somehow managed to get through that conversation without outing yourself, but you couldn't spare yourself from your groups disappointment about your actions; And, to be fair, you were disappointed in yourself. They would pull chairs around, forming a circle around you that kind of made you feel like you were in rehab, or in some sort of intervention. "You know you're going to have to tell him at some point, right?" They would point out, "You cannot possibly keep all of this a secret forever. I don't even know how you've managed to hid it from him for seven months!" You would only sigh, "I know! I know... I just don't know how to say it without sounding..." "Insane?", "Mental?", "Like you're a big fat lair?" "Okay rude- but yes!"

ꨄ︎ "Invite him to a show!" Was the agreement you had all came to, even thought it made you queasy even thinking about mixing your K-pop life with your personal life. You were so comfortable with Floyd and you didn't want to mess anything up; You also didn't want to accidentally out your relationship to your fans and cause some sort of havoc that had to be cleared up by your PR team. Nor did you want any of them to go to Floyd's way and do who knows what. But, knowing you also couldn't lie to him forever, you caved in and sent him the tickets in the mail along with a letter:

ꨄ︎ "Floyd! You have mail." JD called from the elevator as he came back into the bunker with mail. Everyone was gathered around in the kitchen, talking and slowly waking up; JD only dumped the pile of letters, party invites, and anything else that got stuck in mail onto the counter. He handed Floyd' letter to him personally, with a playful wiggle of the eyebrow. Confused, but a little intrigued, Floyd opened the envelope and read the letter, taking his time and not minding the peeping eyes of everyone around. His brothers, seemed to interested with this letter. "It's tickets?" Floyd mumbled when he reached the end of your letter, noticing the lipstick kiss on the bottom. His cheeks flushed a little, a dorky smile wobbling onto his lips before he coughed and tried to compose himself. He knew he would never hear the end of it from his brothers, who were already snickering! All but for Branch, "Tickets to what?" "Tickets to that band you introduced us to." Floyd mumbled, pulling out 7 VIP tickets to your next concert in Pop Village. Poppy nor Viva could contain their screams as soon as they saw the tickets!

ꨄ︎ Floyd texted you later in the day, thanking you for the tickets. Yet, just as you knew he would, he couldn't help but question where you got them (and if you bought them, how he would pay you back) and why there was only 7 and not 8 (where you not coming?). You could only text him back that he would understand during the concert; which was in a few days time.

ꨄ︎ And then you may or may not have ghosted him... Listen, you were completely freaking out about this new change. Even if it hadn't started yet, you had so much fear you half hoped that you ghosting Floyd would end in him thinking you hated him and he wouldn't come and you never will have to face with the consequences of your own actions. Wow, that actually not sounded so shitty thinking about it. "Oh hey, lover boy is here!" "WHAT?!"

ꨄ︎ Your plan didn't work, Floyd sort of figured everything out after hearing Poppy infodump about the group a day before the show. He was still a little iffy about his assumption that you were a member of this group, yet thought he might right. After all, it would explain a lot about your odd schedule and your recent ghosting. And while Floyd was sitting down, getting comfortable next to his brothers and the ever so excited Poppy, Viva, and surprisingly Clay and Branch, you were freaking out! The others literally kept having to splash water in your face to keep you from backing out, or maybe even passing out. You couldn't believe this was happening, you couldn't believe that he actually came, you couldn't believe- "Come on ladies, we need you on stage now!"

ꨄ︎ During the performance, you kept glancing over where Floyd and his brothers were, so nervous about his reaction. You saw, on several occasions, Viva and Poppy shouting and cheering, dancing with both Clay and Branch and between themselves. Bruce acted like any other dad that was brought to this concert because of his teenage daughter, and Floyd... Oh you were too nervous to get a good look at him. Yet, what you didn't see was that Floyd was your biggest supporter. He was shouted your name with the biggest smile, singing your lyrics (that he so didn't memorize since he got the tickets and even more so when he pieced things together).

ꨄ︎ He's so supportive! <3

ꨄ︎ He was slightly shocked when he first realized who you were, but quickly became your biggest fan! Literally ran to you after the show, couldn't hold himself back from pulling you into such a big hug. Literally was gushing over how amazing your performance was and he was so sorry he ever made you feel like you had to hide this from him. You had to reassure him it wasn't because of anything he did.

ꨄ︎ "Wha- Floyd no! I didn't keep this away from you because you were the problem!" You rushed how instantly as soon as you heart Floyd apologize. You couldn't even believe he would even begin to think that this was somehow his fault, when it was the opposite. "It.. it wasn't?" His look of confusion pulled at your heart so much. The way he pulled away from the hug for a moment, hands still on your shoulders, as he gave you a confused wide-eyed look. You cursed yourself for not telling him earlier! "No, of course not! I was-..." You paused for a moment, biting at the edge of your lip. You thought over your words carefully, "It was... nice to have someone who didn't know who I was. It felt like I could be, you know, normal around you. I didn't have to worry about being stage me because I could just be me!" "Oh..." Floyd seemed like he understood that feeling all too well. You stared at him, your eyebrows scrunching a little in confusion. "What?" "Why do you look like you know exactly what I'm talking about like you've experienced it before?" "Because I do!" Floyd would give you a small smile, "Back in my Brozone days-" "YOU WERE IN BROZONE?!"

ꨄ︎ Floyd may or may not have forgotten to mention he had been a member of BroZone; Whoops!

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[stormcloudrising]

Listened to the full lyrics of Long Face and I love them, and I have some random thoughts on the lyrics. Interesting meaning behind the words with the piano analogy.

The words are obviously meant to represent Lestat’s thoughts about Louis, and what I find interesting is that they see each other the same way. Makes me wonder who wrote the song. Did Lestat write it to put himself in Louis shoes in an attempt to understand him, or in response to the scene from Season 1 episode 2 after Louis kills the agent and they burn the body.

Louis sees their differences in terms of the world they live in and how others see them. Creole/French; Black man/white man; Queer/????? Etc. Lestat on the other hand sees their differences in more idolized romantic terms…basically how they see each other not how the world sees them.

Or was the song written as a duet with maybe Louis also writing Lestat a letter with the latter putting it to music. It’s a tin foil idea but the lyrics sound almost how Louis would describe the two of them…not the other way around.

If you asked Louis how he saw Lestat, he would say that he was filled with fire and energy. And it turns out that’s how Lestat sees Louis. Fire to his calmer self (LOL). But then again, you never see yourself the way others see you.

On the other hand, Lestat is always questing for love and so on that level, the lyrics do makes sense. The song also matches up to his thoughts about Louis when he first sees him pull a knife on Paul. And while Lestat always wants to test the boundaries, he’s always been lonely, which definitely matches up to how he sees himself in the song. Louis fills the void in him.

The lyrics are all about two pianos creating a harmonious sound. Makes me wonder if that’s what he was practicing with his board and Siri. Was he writing the lyrics then. Lestat sees them as opposites who together create the perfect sound.

I’m piano (quiet)

And you’re forte (loud and strong)

You’re Allegro (lively)

I’m Andante (slow or moderate pace)

We’re Bolero (here he’s talking about Ravel’s Bolero, which is basically a repeated melody that builds and builds to include the entire orchestra. It was also originally published as a piano duet.

He’s also saying that his stage persona is not him. He’s an actor wearing makeup. Louis knows the real him but Louis keeps running and he’s calling him out on it. It also interesting that he says “I get fatter, when we breakup.” That suggests some type of spiraling on his part when he and Louis break up. He gets fatter on the blood. The Rock Documentary is for Louis.

I’m very interested to see where season three starts because the lyrics almost sound like they got back together and Louis did one of his bunker like in the books and just disappeared.

Of course, the song is likely just an encapsulation of their relationship as it will be covered going forward and not about any specific off screen event. If so, we’re in for a treat.

Season 3 can’t get here soon enough for me.

[stars-tonight]

SCARS TO YOUR BEAUTIFUL (FT. LEO VALDEZ)

synopsis: leo always comes to you when he burns himself, and you’re starting to get kind of sick of it. fluff, child of apollo!reader, takes place after HoO

word count: 439

“you’ve gotta stop being so reckless,” you grumble, when you see your boyfriend heading toward you with a sheepish smile on his face.

“sorry,” he offers, but you know he’s not sorry.

you wave him off, lowering your bow and placing your previously-notched arrow back into your quiver. “where is it this time?”

he holds up his arm. a fresh new burn is glaring at you from the inside of his wrist. you sigh. yes, leo is technically fireproof, but that doesn’t mean spending all day wrapped in tendrils of flame leaves him unharmed. sometimes when he’s tired or distracted, he’ll slip up and accidentally burn himself. he always comes to you when he gets a particularly bad one--you can fix him right up, he says. but some of them leave scars, and you can tell this one today will.

“don’t spend all your free time in the bunker,” you say, touching his wrist. immediately, the affected area cools, and leo sighs contentedly. “every time we don’t have assigned activities, you’re hidden away there. you should be polishing your other skills too. i’d like to see you try canoeing one of these days.”

“polishing my other skills? is that why you apollo kids spend all of your free time shooting arrows?” he shoots back. and gods damn him, you can’t argue with that.

“you really should stop getting hurt, you know,” you mutter, dropping his wrist. “i can heal it, but they leave scars sometimes. case in point.”

he hums in acknowledgement, studying his new scar. “all these scars make it look like i’ve been been through war,” he agrees.

"you have been through war, leo. . ." you brush some of his hair out of his face.

he shrugs. “they take away from my handsomeness. that's not good.”

you roll your eyes--is that even a word?--but kiss the stupid guy anyway. “i couldn’t care less about how the scars affect your ‘handsomeness’, leo. not like they do anyway. i just don’t want you to get hurt.”

you render him speechless for a few seconds. he’s never had anyone care about him quite like this before. he blinks slowly, before a smirk crosses his face. “so you think i’m handsome?”

you roll your eyes again. leave it to leo to make a joke out of anything. but you can’t deny that he is pretty. even if he has scars all over his body from long days in the bunker. especially because he has scars all over his body from long days in the bunker.

“yeah,” you admit, picking up your bow again and preparing to shoot another bullseye. “you’re beautiful regardless.”

A/N: my first pjo fic! i’m sorry if the title misled anyone but the whole thing didn’t really have anything to do with the lyrics of the song lol, i just liked the name

[mrs-padalecki2341]

Hey bestie, I have an idea for a Dean Smut. I'm thinking friends with benefits turned into couple/lovers troupe. With lyrics from the song Again by Noah Cyrus. Maybe semi rough sex? Whatever you come up with is fine. Im obsessed with this song right now and think it would be perfect for that troupe. Also can they say "I love you" at some point during or after the sex? Please and thank you! <3

Heyy!!! Here you go Bestie, and you know I'll always do your requests! I hope you like it! Love you girl!

~~~

Again

(Dean x Reader)

Warnings/ Promises: Smut, unprotected sex/ creampie (wrap it before you tap it y’all), semi-rough sex, friends with benefits, I think that's it but lmk if I missed something.

Song by Noah Cyrus ft. XXXTentacion

(“All lyrics will be marked as so”)

~~~

You and Dean had been sleeping together for over 9 months now. Whenever one of you needed the other you would just call. And right now, you were going to explode if you weren't fucked senseless within the next few minutes.

Luckily, you didn't live far from their bunker.

You picked up your phone and scrolled through your contacts until you found Dean's name then hit the call button.

He picked up on the first ring.

"*What is it, Y/n hon?*" His voice was husky on the other end, as he already knew the answer.

"I'm coming over." You said into the phone.

"*I'll be in my room waiting.*" And with that, he hung up.

(“You just made the worst mistake And you'll regret it, darling 'Cause once you give and then you take You'll only end up wanting”)

In a matter of minutes, you're at the bunker. You pull out your key and turn it in the lock, letting yourself in.

"*I'm here. See you in a sec.*" You send a quick text to Dean as you walk down the stairs into the bunker.

Sam looks up from his laptop as you pass by him in the library and gives you a small wave, in which you return before scurrying off to Dean's room.

You knock twice to let him know you're there and open the door.

As expected, he's already laying on the bed, waiting for you in nothing but his robe.

"Hey, sexy~" You flirt as you close the door and walk over to the bed, sitting beside him.

He smirks and grabs around your waist, pulling you on top of him, causing you to yelp in surprise.

"Hi~" He smiles and gives you a quick kiss as his hands move to your waist. He hooks his thumbs into your waistline, pulling down both your sweatpants and underwear and revealing your ass.

You kick them off the rest of the way and grab at the tie on his robe, undoing the knot and opening it up. You can't help but moan a little at the fact that he's already hard and leaking precum.

He tugs at your shirt and you assist him in pulling it over your head, then you let him reach behind you and unclasp your bra, throwing both garments to the floor.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He gawks, as if he hadn't seen you like this a thousand times.

"You say that every time." You point out, but you still can't help but smile at the compliment.

"Well, it's true. And besides, it's practically routine to say it at this point~" He runs his hands along your naked figure as he speaks.

You just roll your eyes and lean down to kiss him. He groans into it and kisses you back roughly, his left hand finding your hair and tangling into it as his right hand continues to roam your body.

(“(Ooh-ooh-ooh) was everything hard enough? (Ooh-ooh-ooh) 'cause one day you'll wake up And then you'll say”)

You continue to make out, tongues twisting and lips moving in sync, as you reach your hand down between your bodies and wrap your fingers around Dean's cock.

"Son of a-" Dean grumbles in response to the stimulation. "-bitch~" The last word coming out as more of a moan as you squeeze your hand around him.

You chuckle and start moving your hand up and down over his shaft, still squeezing lightly, earning little moans and grunts from him as you do so.

Then, you raise your hips and line him up with your soaked, wanting core before lowering back down onto him with a sigh.

"Mmn, shit, you're tight as hell." He remarks, groaning at the feeling.

"Yeah, I know, it's been too long." You moan back, rocking your hips slowly, letting him stretch you out.

"You can say that again." He rasps, his eyes rolled back in gratification. Him and Sam had been on back-to-back hunts for the past three and a half weeks and this was the first break they've gotten, aka the first chance he's had to fuck you in almost a month, so you were both overdue for this, especially considering you normally fuck 3-4 times a week or more.

Once you'd adjusted to the stretch of his cock, you sped up the pace, bumping your hips faster until you reached a good speed and rhythm.

You both yelled out in moans and screams of pleasure, sending echos through the bunker. Luckily for Sam, he was used to this from the two of you by now and it didn't really bother him.

You kept the up the fast pace, Dean bucking his hips up to meet with yours with each thrust, until you were both howling out as you got closer to finishing.

"Mm- fuh- fu- mmnph- fuck- I'm so- mmn- close..." You sputtered out between yelps and howls.

With that, Dean moved out of you and flipped the both of you, putting him on top so that he could fuck harder into you.

"SHIT-" You gasped out as he pushed into you harder, his hips crashing against yours with the slap of skin on skin with each shove into you.

It wasn't long before you were gripping at the sheets for dear life as Dean continued to roughly slam his cock in and out of you until you couldn't take anymore.

"DEANNN!!!" You screamed through your orgasm, cumming so hard you blacked out for a moment.

You return to consciousness right as Dean yells out and sprays into you, filling you with his hot cum. Then he collapses on the bed, both of you panting like dogs as you come down from euphoria.

Once he had calmed down some, Dean turned to look at you, his face saying that he has something to tell you, but he doesn't know if he should.

Finally, he sighed and just said it.

"Y/n... I want more from this..."

(“"I wanna be your lover I don't wanna be your friend" You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me again)”)

"What do you mean?" You ask, confused.

"What I mean is..."

There's a long pause before he finally speaks again.

"I love you Y/n..."

Your eyes grow wide in surprise.

"You love me?..." You say after a moment, still trying to process it.

He gives a gentle nod.

(“I-I wanna be your lover Baby, I'll hold my breath You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me)”)

"I... I love you too..." You reply with a bit of hesitation after taking a minute to think about what he said.

(“Again, babe, again Again, babe, again You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again”)

"But?..." He asked, knowing there was going to be one by the way you responded.

"But I don't... I'm not sure if I want to be a couple or whatever or not..." You started.

(“Ooh-ooh-ooh, she's screaming in my head Ooh-ooh-ooh, I left her where I slept Somewhere, I can't escape I'm running from myself Somewhere in between in love and broken, I'm in hell”)

"I just... I don't want to make things awkward between us or anything..." You continued. "I mean, we fit with each other perfectly..."

"In more ways than one." He interjected.

"But... I guess I'm just... scared that things might not still be the same if we were together." You let out a sigh.

(“Saying, "I wanna be your lover I don't wanna be your friend" You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me again)”)

Dean pulled you up against him, cuddling into you. "Don't worry. I'm sure things won't be any different. I'm sure we'll still be just as inseparable as we already are." He reassured you.

"Are you sure?" You still question.

"Yeah. I am. If it makes you feel any better, we could just try it out at first and if it doesn't work, we could always just go back to being friends with benefits." He suggested, his voice calm and sweet.

(“I-I wanna be your lover You're leaving when the clock hits ten You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me)”)

"Yeah... That sounds good." You finally decide. You curl up against him and nuzzle your face into his chest. "Good." He sighed in relief.

(“Again, babe, again Again, babe, again You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me)”)

"I love you, Dean." You say contently, feeling safe in the comfort of his arms.

"I love you too, Y/n." He answered happily. "I love you so much."

(“Again, babe, again Again, babe, again You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, my dear So tell me that you love me again (tell me that you love me again)”)

He gave you a gentle kiss on the head and pulled you in closer. You moved closer as well and let his embrace take away all your problems and worries, falling asleep in his arms.

-SP<3

[impala-dreamer]

When I Think About You

A Supernatural Story

~ Even the sexiest of ideas can sometimes go comedically wrong...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, with Sam, Jack, and Castiel cameos

2,037 Words

NSFW, Sexy Comedy, Failed Stripper Routine, Accidental Indecent Exposure, Naked Dean.

Written for @jacklesversebingo "Failed Striptease/Lap Dance" square. Hope you enjoy!!

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

‘Ditch the boys and hurry back…’

That was all her text had said and Dean could hardly keep his mind from skipping through a field of wild sex fantasies while driving back to the Bunker.

The guys in question were left to fend for themselves, believing Dean’s excuse of Y/N not feeling well for his quick escape. They’d get a ride back to Kansas when they were ready. Hell, Sam was no stranger to hot-wiring cars and Jack needed to learn sometime.

Dean pushed the Impala down the road, breaking eighty as his imagination ran rampant. The steering column protested by shaking violently, but he knew she could do it. Besides, this was an emergency. A mysterious, sexy emergency.

Forty minutes later, Dean Winchester burst through the garage doors and into the Bunker’s expansive hallway system. She must have heard the door slam shut, for her voice called to him in a sultry echo.

“I’m in here…”

Thankfully, ‘here’ was straight ahead once Dean skidded around a corner. His boots screeched to a halt as soon as he saw her. Y/N was stretched out on the glowing table in the War Room, her curves on full display as she lay on her side facing the door.

His eyes went wide.

His heart skipped three beats.

His blood rushed south and his jeans shrunk.

“Welcome home, Mr. Winchester.”

Her lips were stained a deep crimson; her eyes lined in devilish coal. Her body was covered in emerald and black satin that clung to every dip and hid only enough to make his mouth water in anticipation. Her tits were pushed up and full, her hips wide and straining against the thin material.

Dean swallowed hard and stared at her, his vision cloudy but focused. “Uh… hey.”

A smirk tipped his lips upward and she laughed gently.

“You’re too easy to ensnare,” she teased.

In lieu of a protest, Dean gave the denim at his crotch a tug, giving his boys some room.

Y/N smiled proudly and rolled onto her belly. “Have a seat, cowboy.”

There was a single chair by the table, strategically placed for optimal viewing. Dean licked his lips and complied, quickly taking a seat.

With a tap on her phone, Y/N flooded the room with the opening riff of a very familiar song and Dean let out a soft chuckle.

“The Divinyls? Really, Y/N/N?”

She popped up onto all fours and Dean’s gaze was locked on her gorgeous, hanging tits.

“Why not?” she asked in reply. “It’s a great song. And it says everything I want to say.”

Dean inhaled slowly and sat back, reclining as he rubbed his hands down his thick thighs. The song started in full, but he couldn’t hear much but the pounding of desire in his ears. “Is that so?”

With a sexy pout, Y/N spread her knees and sat back on her heels. “It is.” A hand ran slowly down her throat. “I hate it when you’re gone so long…” She teased a finger across her cleavage, entrancing him further. “Makes me crazy…” The hand dropped farther down and skated up her inner thigh. “Makes me… touch myself…”

A rumbling moan left his lips and Dean adjusted his jeans once more. The strain was distractingly painful, but he didn’t want to rush. “Fuck, baby…”

Y/N smirked and swayed with the music as she climbed onto her feet. High above him, she moved to the beat, trying to keep in time with the song while turning him on.

Her rhythmic timing was terrible.

“I don’t want… anybody else…” She sang along, her voice deep and arousing, but the lyrics and her feet wouldn’t work together and she stumbled.

Dean hissed in a cringe of worry but she righted herself quickly, carrying on with the seduction.

“When I think about you, Dean… I touch myself…”

She turned in place, circling her hips perfectly.

His mouth watered at the thought of sinking his teeth into her plump ass. “So hot, baby…”

His praise knocked her off course and instead of dipping down into a sexy squat, Y/N lost her balance and ended up back on her hands and knees.

Seeing nothing but lust in his green eyes, she bit back embarrassment and crawled towards him. She puckered her lips and batted her eyes.

“You’re the one who makes me come runnin’...”

With unexpected dexterity, Y/N hopped down from the table and spun towards him.

Dean spread his legs as she moved between them; held his breath as she ran a hand down his chest.

“You’re the sun who makes me shine…”

Dancing closer, Y/N lifted her knee to rest on the chair and give him a show, but she clipped his sack and Dean’s eyes went crossed.

“Holy shit!” She jerked backward. “I’m sorry!”

Dean held up a hand and shook his head; lips still sealed tight against a whimper. “We’re good. We’re good. Carry on.”

Carefully, Y/N picked up the beat again and wiggled for him. He smiled and she bit her lip coyly as she teased the strap of her bra off her shoulder.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praised as feeling returned to his privates. “So hot.”

Blushing, she turned away and dropped the other strap. “Been thinking about this all week,” she cooed.

“Me too.” Dean shifted in the chair, watching as she slowly unhooked the clasps holding her tits in place. “Missed those beautiful ti-”

As she whipped the bra off, her elbow connected with his chin and Dean’s teeth clanked together painfully. The ringing filled his skull and he shook himself to clear away the stars circling overhead.

“Fuck!” Y/N rushed to him and gingerly held his face. “I’m so sorry, Dean. Fuck!”

He blinked up at her and cleared his throat, coming back to reality. “It’s uh… It’s OK…”

Her shoulders dropped. “No, it’s not! I almost gave you a concussion!” The embarrassment breached containment and ruined her plans. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to give you a treat, ya know? Like, do something super sexy when you got home and I- I fucked it all up.”

The disappointment on her face broke his heart just as much as her elbow to the face had killed his erection.

Standing up, Dean wrapped her in his arms. He tried to ignore the fact that her naked breasts were pressed so enticingly against his chest.

“Baby…” He kissed her forehead. “You did great.”

She groaned.

An idea sparked in his head.

“Hey, why don’t you take a seat and I’ll show you how it’s done…”

His wink made her melt and Y/N sank into the chair, covering her bare chest with an arm.

The speakers were silent for a moment as Dean climbed up onto the table. He took a breath and turned his back to her, preparing. When the song started again, he grabbed each side of his unbuttoned gray flannel and whipped them open. He rolled his hips and tugged the fabric from his right shoulder and glanced behind him. Y/N’s sadness had vanished, replaced by a look of pure wonder. He winked again and she swooned dramatically.

Another rock of his hips and he switched sides, exposing the black tee on his left shoulder.

Y/N whistled. “Yeah! Take it off!”

“I don’t want… anybody else…” Dean took to singing along as the flannel left his body. He turned and tossed it at Y/N who caught it and buried her face happily in the musky fabric. “When I think about you…”

His belt buckle opened easily and Dean evicted the leather from its usual place with a flick of his wrist. The metal crackled on the table and Y/N sucked in a quick breath.

“OK, that was hot…” She slid down on the chair as her knees fell apart in a less-than-ladylike pose.

Dean grinned and reached behind his head, grabbing a fistfull of fabric. “You know it, baby.” In one swift motion, he pulled his tee up over his head and balled it up.

Y/N’s jaw dropped at the sight of his big bare arms and soft stomach. A lustful moan was stopped short when she bit down on her bottom lip.

The tee landed at her feet.

“I close my eyes and see you before me…”

Dean was so far off-key he wouldn’t be able to find the ring, but Y/N didn’t care. She couldn’t hear a damned thing above her own heavy breaths and racing pulse.

He kicked off each boot; let his jeans pool on the table.

“I touch myself… I honestly do…”

Y/N’s vision blurred everything but Dean. She was captivated and aching, practically drooling by the time he jumped down from the table and stood before her. Her body was throbbing, her nipples hard and ruddy.

Dean moved between her knees and set his hands on the arms of the chair.

“Like what you see?” he asked, rolling his body into her.

“So much…”

He dipped down on a trajectory for her waiting lips, but pulled back at the last second, leaving her needy and whimpering.

“Oh, you’re good at this.”

Spinning around, Dean gripped the chair again and lowered himself down over her lap. “I’ve had a lesson or two over the years.”

He arched his back and rubbed his ass against her panties.

“Let’s not discuss your past exploits right now…”

Perching lightly on her thighs, Dean grabbed her hands and placed them on his chest. “Whatever you say, baby. It’s your buck.”

Guided by his touch, Y/N’s hand fell down his body, enjoying the twitch of each muscle, the heat pulsing off of him. She shivered and felt the wetness drip between her thighs.

“I’m not paying for this,” she teased, reaching into the elastic of his boxers.

“Well…” Dean spun again and sank to his knees. He moved in for a kiss and her heart stopped. “I’m sure I can think of a way for you to repay me.”

This time, his lips landed and Y/N crumbled. Her blood sizzled as he licked into her mouth. She clawed at his thick shoulders when he nibbled at her throat and moaned his name as he rolled her nipple between his lips.

As the song looped for the sixth time, Dean kissed his way down her body and pressed his hot mouth against her covered pussy. She arched her back and moaned loudly, so ready for his tongue. She lifted her left knee and rested it on his shoulder; gripped the chair as he licked at the wet spot on her panties.

“Dean… fuck… I-”

“Just relax, baby.” Slowly, he licked her again. “I’ve got you.”

Her head fell back as his fingertips snuck into the hem of the emerald satin and she held her breath as he peeled the fabric down.

“Fuck-”

Dean grinned and licked his lips at the sight of her swollen clit, pulsing and ready for him. “Fuck…”

“Fuck!”

They hadn’t heard the big door open and close, hadn’t heard the footsteps thudding on the iron balcony as the guys walked in.

Y/N did, however, hear Sam’s gasping curse.

“Holy fuck!” She jumped in the seat, quickly covering her chest as Cas and Jack appeared at his side.

Startled but disinterested in stopping, Dean sat back a bit and looked up at the crew. “Hey guys!”

Sam rolled his eyes and Jack leaned over the railing to see what was going on. Quickly, Castiel laid his hand over his eyes, blocking the pornographic scene from view.

Concerned, Jack tried to squirm away. “What is it? Is Y/N OK?”

Dean, still toying at the edge of her panties, grinned up at the angel and his brother. “Oh, she’s more than OK!”

Disgusted, Sam threw his hands up and backed away.

Jack clawed at Castiel’s fingers, trying to pry them off.

The angel shook his head at Dean.

Y/N covered her face, then her tits, then her face, then gave up. “Hey, Cas?”

He cocked his head. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How hard is it to die from embarrassment?”