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Hmm yeah, hopefully I can explain some of them coherently.
I think I'll put this under read more. Have this sfw Sasuke.
First of all I have to say I do not like kinky, aggressive perv Sasuke whether he tops or bottoms. Actually I don't really see them as that kinky in general? I think they are spontaneous and would just want to get on with it, and be close. Maybe Naruto would want to try something extra sometimes, and Sasuke would probably agree with it like he agreed with the reverse harem jutsu lol. Actually to me that silly scene gave me the idea of how things would go with them a lot of times.
I also don't really agree with the extra-super-careful-in-bed Naruto, of course he wouldn't want to do anything awful but I think Naruto would probably get excited and kind of get lost in the moment a lot of times lol. He'd probably be pretty affectionate though, and want to touch his partner a lot, I also think he'd like to draw reactions out of Sasuke, and be very pleased with himself when Sasuke loses his cool. He'd also like to mark Sasuke, since I see him as possessive and territorial hah.
I see Sasuke as not as sexual, I see sex as something that's not one of his priorities at all. But when it's Naruto, he can get Sasuke into the mood. So Sasuke does enjoy being intimate with Naruto a lot, they're in sync. I also see that when they do have sex Sasuke lets go completely. It's worse when Naruto says something corny like giving one of his "you're important to me bla bla" speeches while they're doing it and those always get to Sasuke so he gets overwhelmed. And between the two of them Sasuke is the louder one!! He needs to let it out sometimes. I also think Sasuke might get annoyed when Naruto teases him haha but sometimes he'd taunt him back. They're cute.
Afterwards they engage in some pillow talk. I see Sasuke opening up even more during these times and Naruto really cherishing it.
He was a man, just like his Dad, and he was not going to cry.Ā
Men donāt cry.
But it hurt.Ā
He was twelve years old, and his Dad had just taken him on his first hunt, a werewolf hunt that heād wanted backup for. Dean wasnāt supposed to engage in any of the actual fighting, he was supposed to leave that to Dad. He was only there in case any of the wolves escaped, and if that happened then he was supposed to shoot to kill.Ā
But the longer Dean sat in the woods, eyes fixed on the cabin that his Dad had disappeared inside, the more anxious he got.Ā
He could hear fighting and gunshots and yelps of pain, but his fatherās orders kept him rooted to the spot.Ā
Youāre not to enter that cabin under any circumstances, do you understand?
Yes, sir.Ā
So, Dean stayed outside. Ears ringing with the echoes of bullets singing through the air. He wanted to make his Dad proud, to show him that he was ready to be a hunter and to back him up on hunts, but worry still nagged at him at the sounds coming from the cabin.Ā
He heard a shout that could only have come from his fatherās mouth, and seconds later a man baring his teeth in a snarl burst through the door.Ā
āDean!ā his father shouted.
Dean could only stare at the werewolf in shock as it barreled towards him. But he finally managed to raise his gun and aim. The wolf was so close that his long claws raked across Deanās stomach just as he fired, sending a silver bullet through the beasts heart.
The werewolf fell to the ground, dead, and Dean was left to meet his fatherās gaze.Ā
John Winchester only blinked a few times at Dean before grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into the Impala. He tossed Dean a rag and instructed him to put pressure on the wound before sending them off back to the motel.Ā
Thatās where Dean sat now, in their motel room, in a chair beside the barely-standing table that held all the first aid supplies his Dad always kept with him.Ā
Dean had bitten the inside of his cheeks so hard that he could taste blood as he tried to will away the tears prickling at his eyes.Ā
He would not cry.Ā
The needle moving in and out of his shredded skin, as his father worked to close the wound, felt like he was being stabbed by tiny knives. His Dad didnāt speak a word as he focused on his task, and so Dean didnāt try to talk either.Ā
Finally, the wound was declared sutured and his father wiped around it with a rag that smelled heavily of alcohol and plastered a bandage to it.Ā
āThere, youāre done,ā John said as he stood up.Ā
Dean nodded slowly and was ordered to bed.Ā
Safely under the covers, head turned away from his father, he let the tears fall. The pain threatened to swallow him up, but his father had offered him had nothing to ease it. He was careful not to make any noise, so careful not to let his father know that his son was crying.Ā
But his fatherās anger filled voice rang in his ears nonetheless.Ā
Men donāt cry.
After the age of six, crying was unacceptable under any circumstances.Ā
When Dean was caught crying over a scraped knee, his father had sat him down and leveled him with the most intense rage-filled glare.Ā
āYou stop that right now, Dean,ā heād snapped.Ā
Dean sniffled and wiped at his eyes but he couldnāt stop the tears.Ā
āI c-canāt,ā heād hiccupped.Ā
His father took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake, not too hard, but not soft either.Ā
āNo son of mine, is going to be seen crying like a girl over a scraped knee. Youāre a man now, Dean. Men donāt cry. Do you hear me? Men donāt cry.āĀ
Dean nodded, eyes still red, nose running, and tears finishing their tracks on his cheeks.Ā āYes, sir,ā he mumbled as one last tear fell from his eyes.Ā
His father nodded curtly and then stood up, leaving Dean to follow him.Ā
Lying under the covers, tears dampening his pillow, he couldnāt get himself to stop. The sharp voice of his father barely kept the sobs that wanted to escape his chest at bay, but it couldnāt stop the tears.Ā
It hurt so much and there was only one person he wanted, only one person who could ease his pain.Ā
He wanted his Mom.Ā
But she was dead, gone, burned on the ceiling by a monster his father had yet to catch.Ā
Soon his tears of pain became tears of longing. He missed his Mom, he hardly remembered what her voice sounded like, but he knew it was soft, and loving, nothing like the rough gravel that was Johnās, whose every word left scrapes under his skin that no one could see; but that didnāt mean they werenāt there.
His father hadnāt even praised him for a job well done. Heād hardly spoken a word to Dean since they got back. He knew his father well enough to know that something Dean had done had made him angry, and that something lay stitched under a bandage.Ā
Heād had gotten hurt on the hunt because he wasnāt quick enough, and so John was disappointed.Ā
Dean had wanted so badly to impress his father, to show him he was ready, but heād failed, because that was all he knew how to do.Ā
He never did anything right.Ā
Slowly, he wiped the tears from his face and then pulled the blankets up to his chin before shutting his eyes. Somehow, he managed to block out the pain enough to let himself fall into a restless sleep.Ā
Maybe one day heād stop being a failure and John Winchester would be able to look at him without the glint of disgust that always shimmered in his eyes.
Principal Bump had been alive longer than the coven system has been in place. Emperor Belos came into power 50 years ago right? And Bump was Principal when Eda and Lilith were students, making him at least 60-70. Do what you will with this information
He mustāve been 15-20 when the Coven system was put in place. He saw what happened to the wild witches, so he kept his head down and became a teacher. Because he saw what it was like for those who didnāt listen. So he became principal of the school to make sure kids knew to listen, so they wouldnāt end up like all the other wild witches heād seen.
Bump is a helpful man in the end, but he was also a coward. A smart one, but a coward nonetheless. It was actions like those that convinced him to join the rebellion, to make up for what heād done. Or rather, didnāt do.
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"I'm gonna take you out on a real date some day," Billy says out of nowhere.
His eyes drawn to the stars above, each one a dream of what will be.
They hadn't been talking for quite some time now, just sat silently on the hood of the camaro, parked at the peak of the quarry, fingers laced together something so softly where they meet on the blue metal.
"Is this not a real date?" Steve gives a gentle laugh and looks to his boyfriend on the left.
"You know what I mean," Billy never stops smiling as he talks.
And Steve knows.
"Wouldn't it be nice to just... Hold hands down the street? Sit at some romantic restaurant together. Let me buy you flowers, or win you a prize at the fair. To be able to just... Kiss whenever we'd want to."
Steve's heart skips several beats. He had been thinking about that a lot too, but to know that Billy has the same thoughts, the same dreams...
"Who would have guessed you're such a hopeless romantic at heart." He smiles and leans to rest his chin on Billy's shoulder.
Who's all flushed and embarrassed, and he turns his head away with a wide smile. "Shut up, Harrington," and his voice shakes with nerves from being so open about his feelings.
"Mmm would be nice, yeah." Steve scoots closer and puts his head on the shoulder now. "Maybe some day in California."
And Billy turns to him, lips pulled apart as far as they can. He kisses the top of Steve's hair, takes a dear whiff of that expensive shampoo, then rests his own head on the bed of brown hair.