#‘what happened to all the p***y on supernatural?’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hintsofhoney · 4 months ago

Text

Mine

Paring(s): Alpha!Dean Winchester x F!Omega!Reader

Summary: When Dean is forced to mark Y/N in order to not blow their cover on a case, it leads him to reveal a secret that he's been keeping since they met.

Square(s) Filled: biting for @anyfandomkinkbingo

Tags: 18+, true mates, smut, p in v, marking, a/b/o if that wasn't already obvious lmao, knotting

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Helloooo, it's been a minute. If I'm being honest, I have about 10-15 finished works just sitting in my "ready to post" folder, but posting is always such an ordeal, so they just stay there until I feel like dealing with Tumblr. But, this one I did write over the last two days after I finished reading Bride by Ali Hazelwood, which I loved so much that it made me want to dip my toes into the Omegaverse! That being said, I don't know how much in here is actually in line with A/B/O "rules", but I know I needed to twist some things to fit the story (e.g. in this specific A/B/O fic/universe, claiming marks will fade if they're not true mates). Huge thank you to my A/B/O girlies, @makeadealwithdean and @emoryhemsworth, for reading it over, I love you both to the moon and back! I hope you all enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“We get in, find the knife, get out, got it?” Dean asks, looking between Sam in the front seat and Y/N in the back, making sure everyone is on the same page. They both nod once in understanding, before the three of them make their way out of the car, their doors slamming shut simultaneously.

Y/N stares up at the mansion before them, the music loud, the party raging. It’s some charity event thrown by the wealthiest Alpha in the state, and he just happens to have the weapon they need to finish out this hunt. Y/N stumbles a bit, tripping over the cobblestone driveway in her heels, and she catches the sleeve of Dean’s suit to steady herself. He shoots her a glare that tells her to pull it together. They need to blend in.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Here,” Dean replies, grabbing her wrist and pulling it through the crook formed by his bent elbow, forcing them to walk arm-in-arm.

“I don’t need –”

“You are an Omega, Y/N. And there are upwards of a hundred Alphas here who can all smell it. So what you need to do is start acting like one. Just because I’m not some asshole Alpha who demands your respect doesn’t mean they aren’t, and we can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

Y/N takes a deep breath and plasters on a fake smile as they move slowly up the driveway. “Anyone who demands my respect just because of some bullshit biological hierarchy doesn’t deserve it,” she grits out.

Dean stops, turning to face her, one of his hands on either side of her biceps. “Do you want to be on this case or not?”

His voice is lower than usual, demanding and gruff. A voice he only uses when he wants to remind her that he is an Alpha, and bullshit biological hierarchy aside, her body is wired to listen to him.

She gulps, and he tries not to focus on the bob in her throat, the pulse in her neck near her gland, the scent of her. The moment he met her he knew who she was, what they were. Are. He’s been taking scent blockers since before he met her, finding it far easier to interact with other Alphas when investigating cases if they couldn’t scent him out, but the moment he met her, he knew he had to start taking rut blockers too. Though, it feels like the longer he’s around her, the more immune he becomes to the pills. Like she’s going to send him into a rut any fucking second, and she has no idea. He’s thought about telling her so many times, but mates come with strings. Strings that aren’t conducive to the life of a hunter.

“Yes,” she answers his question meekly, almost submissively, and he nods to cover the hormones he forces himself to swallow down. Rejecting your biology is not easy, no matter how many pills you take.

“Then I’m going to need you to take my arm, put on a smile, and act like being an Omega is the greatest joy of your life. That means –”

“I know how to be a good little Omega, Dean,” she interrupts, dragging the words ‘good little Omega’ through a sarcastic tone.

He tenses slightly at her words, sarcastic or not. Good little Omega.

“I’m only bad for you,” she continues with a cheeky wink, and fuck, he might explode. Hell, he might take her into the bushes right now and mark her, claim her, before parading her around in front of this entire fucking party with his teeth marks on her neck. He’s rigid, trying to keep himself under control, and she gives him a playful pat on his shoulder. “Lighten up, Alpha,” she teases. “I’ll be a good girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He gives her biceps a squeeze that he hopes comes off as reassuring as he’s trying to make it seem, before linking his arm with hers once more and catching up to Sam at the front of the driveway.

The trio is greeted by the owner of the mansion himself, one Jim Myers, who welcomes them in with a smile on his face and a cigar in his hand.

“How Gatsby-esque,” Y/N mutters under her breath, watching as Myers shakes Sam’s hand.

Dean nods in agreement. “You definitely wore the right outfit.”

Y/N blushes as she looks down at her dress; a black, semi body-hugging cocktail dress bedazzled with gold sequins in some sort of art deco pattern. All she’s missing is a cigarette holder and a feather in her hair.

“Only because I read the invitation. Unlike some of us,” she mumbles in reply.

“Watch it, Omega,” Dean grits out, plastering on a smile as soon as Myers comes over to greet him.

“Jim Myers, pleasure,” he says, shaking Dean’s hand.

“Dean. And this is Y/N.”

She keeps the cordial smile on her face as Jim takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently before inhaling her scent.

“Pleasure, Miss Y/N,” he says with a feral grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable lust as he lets her hand fall back to her side.

Dean takes a step forward, unable to stop himself. “Mine,” he practically growls, and Jim takes a step back, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“My apologies. I didn’t see a mark, so I just assumed.”

Dean falters, clearing his throat, suddenly reminded of the reason they’re all here in the first place. “No, that’s alright. It’s my fault for not putting it in a visible place.” His eyes dart over to Y/N’s. “I think I’m gonna fix that.”

She ducks her head but can’t hide the red flush that creeps up into her cheeks, reminding herself that it’s just her biology, and that this is all for show anyway. They’re here to do a job, and sometimes those jobs involve… well, whatever the hell just happened. And clearly, Dean is a better actor than she gives him credit for.

Jim chuckles, clasping his hands together. “Well, you three have fun, the drinks are free, the food is good, and if you,” he points at Sam, “good sir, are in search of an Omega, there are plenty to choose from.”

Sam blushes. “Right.” He nods. “Thanks.”

And with that, Jim disappears into the crowd.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Sam says. “You two go. Upstairs, down the hall, third door on the right. If I got the right blueprints.”

“If you got the right blueprints?” Dean asks.

“Just go.” He taps his ear to indicate that he’ll drop in on Dean’s earpiece if anything goes wrong.

Dean sighs, taking Y/N by the hand and leading her up the stairs. He weaves in and out of the crowd, the scents of everyone mixing together, making it impossible to decipher who is what. Y/N’s never been more glad to be on heat suppressors; knowing full well the scents of this many Alphas invading her nostrils would send her body into a major one.

Dean quickly finds the door, and they slip into the room unnoticed, closing the barrier and switching on the light. It’s a bedroom — the master, from the looks of it — and the knife is right in front of them in the middle of the room, across from the foot of the bed. It’s in a glass case, on display, and likely armed with a million alarms, but right in front of them nonetheless.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about what the next move should be.

“We could find something that weighs the same? Lift the glass and replace it super fast?” Y/N offers.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s the glass that’s probably set to trip an alarm. But the fact that you’re applying Indiana Jones to real life scenarios is making me want to —”

He stops himself, realizing what he was about to say. He needs to get himself under control but Y/N in that dress with her smart fucking mouth, with other Alphas eyeing her, he really shouldn’t be here, with her, alone, and —

“Making you want to what?” she asks.

Shit. “Making me want to… make you watch more of them,” he replies, opting to circle the display case, searching it for a way in to distract himself from her.

“Oh, goody. Can’t wait.” She’s as monotone and sarcastic as ever, and every time something smart comes out of her mouth he has to resist the urge to bend her over and fuck her right then.

“Get out of there now,” Sam’s voice comes in on Dean’s earpiece. “Lost track of him for a few seconds, just found him again. He’s making his way upstairs.”

“Shit,” Dean says. “Shit, shit, shit.” He looks around the room frantically. If they go out the door, Myers will without a doubt see them leaving his room. “Myers is coming,” he explains to a confused-looking Y/N.

“Fucking — God dammit.” She looks around too, for a hiding spot, for a weapon, and then she spots herself in the mirror hanging on the wall and an idea comes to her. “Mark me,” she orders.

“What?” Dean snaps, his attention fully on her.

“Get over here and mark me. You told him you were going to make it visible.” She continues before Dean can protest. “Who knows if it’ll even stay, it’s not like we’re mates, right? And if it does, I don’t mind being bound to you for the rest of ever. It’s not like I’m having much luck in the relationship department anyway. But we need that knife, and we’re not going to get it if we don’t –”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath with a quick shake of his head, before he strides across the room and pushes her up against the wall just in time to hear the door click. He inhales her scent, his mouth trailing from the base of her jaw all the way down to her mating gland where it hovers as the door opens all the way. Then he bites down.

Y/N throws her head back, her fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders as his teeth sink into her, and none of it is for show. The pain is euphoric, and her senses heighten, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t been so stringent on taking her fucking pills, because whatever this feeling is, coursing through her veins, settling in her core, she needs to feel it more. She can’t stand how dulled it is, how it just stays there, simmering underneath the surface. She wants to erupt.

“Mm, fuck, Alpha!” she cries out, no trace of sarcasm in her voice, and Dean’s hands grip her hips tight enough to bruise them.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Jim exclaims. “Got an alert that someone was in here, there’s some very valuable things in here, you see, and I just wanted to make sure —”

Dean pulls away from her neck long enough to shoot him a glare that translates to “get out or I’m going to kill you”, and Jim gets the message, backing out the door and shutting it behind him.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, letting his forehead fall to Y/N’s shoulder. He shouldn’t be so close to her. He should back away, give himself some space to breathe. But her scent keeps him rooted in place. It’s her usual scent; something like freshly baked sugar cookies and vanilla, sweet and enticing, but there’s something else, something —

“Are you guys okay?” Sam’s voice in his damn ear again.

Dean lifts his head and presses the button on his earpiece to reply. “Fine, Sam. Give us a second.” Then he takes the earpiece out and tosses it over his shoulder, more agitated than he should be at his brother just trying to check in.

“Dean,” she breathes, and she sounds absolutely wrecked. She brings her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Are you okay?”

He nods. Her touch is like fire on his skin. He needs her.

Y/N squeezes her thighs together. She’s never been able to scent Dean before, but he’s never been this close for this long. He’s never marked her, either. Right now his scent is breaking through the suppressants, little by little. It’s bits of cedar and leather and whiskey, and she’s never smelt anything like it, yet it is so familiar somehow. It invades her senses, and if this is what he smells like with suppressants, she’s terrified of what would happen without them.

“Dean… your scent.” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

“Fuck, my pills must’ve worn off, I —”

She shakes her head. “It’s dulled but… but it’s there.” Her thighs clench together again, and she needs him back on her skin. “It’s there and it’s so fucking good.”

Dean’s eyes fall to the gland on her neck, and the severity of what he’s done comes crashing into him like a wrecking ball. It’s enough to force him to take a step away from her, panic rising in his chest. “I – fuck. I marked you. I fucking marked you.”

Y/N’s fingers come up to graze the indent on her neck, and she shudders at the touch. “I told you to.”

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N –”

“I know what happens when mates get marked, Dean,” she interrupts matter-of-factly. “I’m sure this’ll fade.”

“It won’t. I – I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck. Fuck!” He turns to the wall next to him, hitting it with the side of his closed fist.

“Dean.” Her touch on his arm is gentle and comforting, but he doesn’t turn to face her. “You need to calm down. It’s really not a big deal, I –”

Dean takes a deep breath, both hands on the wall now as he collects himself. He can’t even bring himself to look at her when he says, “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

She takes a step back, and her fading scent is what makes him finally face her. She’s halfway across the room by the time he does.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he repeats.

She shakes her head, her hand coming to her neck again, the teeth marks seared into her skin. “N-no. H-how? When? How – how long have you known?”

Dean takes another long, deep breath. He could lose her tonight. She could run and never come back and he wouldn’t blame her. “Since we met.”

“THREE YEARS!?” she roars. “YOU’VE KNOWN FOR THREE FUCKING YEARS!?”

“Y/N, I –”

She stalks toward him, one finger outstretched, one fist clenched by her side. She points at him as she backs him into a wall, and he’s incredibly turned on and incredibly scared at the same time.

“You’ve known that we’re fucking mates for three years, and you didn’t feel as though that was pertinent fucking information to tell me!?”

Dean swallows. “I – it’s – there are… strings with mates. You know that. I didn’t want to ball and chain you. I didn’t want to keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. And if – fuck – we’re hunters, Y/N. If something had happened to me, and you knew… I didn’t want you to have to live with that. With the pain that comes with losing a true mate.”

Y/N stops half a foot away and drops her accusatory finger. “What did you say?” she whispers.

“True… mates,” Dean breathes.

“We’re…? But… We never – I don’t –”

“With me on my pills, and you on your pills, I think it was enough to… so we just never…”

“But you knew,” she says, closing the gap between them, her hand coming up to caress his cheek. “You knew for so long and you watched me go on dates, had to listen about the… things I did with other Alphas… if I had mated with one of them, you –”

“You deserved to have a choice. Regardless of what I wanted, you deserved to have a choice.”

“My choice could’ve left you depressed and alone and celibate forever, you fucking dumbass.”

He shrugs, and her hand falls to rest over his heart. She stares at it as she continues.

“When you… marked me… I felt… I don’t know what I felt. Nothing’s ever been so intense.”

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he smiles softly.

“That’s the bond,” he explains, his large palm coming to rest over the hand on his chest.

“And if we weren’t on… our blockers?”

“If we weren’t on our blockers, there’s no fucking telling how many pups we’d have running around by now.”

Y/N shivers as the thought of being bred settles in her core, and for once she’s not cursing her biology. Dean chuckles faintly at her reaction, dropping his forehead to hers.

“We can practice in the meantime. Until you decide you want off of them.”

She inhales deeply, taking in as much of his scent as she can. “Oh, I –” another deep breath, “I’m getting off of them for sure.”

Dean lets out a borderline animalistic growl, thinking about how many times he’ll get to fuck her through that first heat. “I’m gonna stop taking my pills, too,” he says breathily.

“Yeah?”

“I had to get on rut blockers when you moved into the Bunker because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. But now,” he says, spinning them both around and pinning Y/N against the wall, “now I don’t fuckin’ have to.”

“Dean,” she half gasps, half moans. He kisses the mark on her neck before licking all the way up to her jaw line and pulling back.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, Omega.”

She meets his feral gaze with one of her own, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Prove it.”

And it might be an incredibly stupid thing to say to a horny Alpha, but it’s also Dean. And he’d never hurt her.

“Mm, fuck.” His voice is raspy and wrecked and they haven’t even done anything yet. Before Y/N can process what’s happening, he’s picking her up and throwing her onto the bed. He climbs over her, hovering for a moment, taking in her flushed cheeks, the warmth radiating off of her, her scent. “You’re beautiful,” he states plainly, like it’s the one fact in the world that he knows without a doubt to be true.

Y/N blushes. “Thank you, Alpha.” She says it because she knows what it does to him.

“You’re beautiful, and I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

A gasp leaves her lips as he pushes her dress up her hips and moves down her body to the foot of the mattress, his fingertips dancing along the hem of her panties before his eyes meet with hers. She gives him a nod, and it’s all the confirmation he needs before pulling them down her legs and tossing them aside.

He watches hungrily as she spreads her thighs, her core damn near dripping with her wetness, and if this is what it’s like when she’s on heat blockers, he can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll look like covered in her slick. His cock grows hard in his slacks at the thought, and he has to step off the bed to take off his pants and boxers before the containment grows painful. He shrugs off his suit jacket and white dress shirt too, and when he’s standing in front of the bed, fully naked, Y/N is propping herself up on her elbows to take him in.

“Holy – fuck,” is all she can get out.

Dean chuckles deeply, one knee coming up onto the mattress as he fists his cock. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He looks her over again, pussy glistening, nipples peaked through her dress. “Fuck, I want you to – would you present for me?”

A smirk spreads across her lips, but she doesn’t say anything before flipping over and assuming the position. Ass up, legs shoulder width apart, chest resting on the mattress.

Dean lets out a low and guttural, “Fuuuuck,” and it’s enough to make her pussy clench around nothing. She feels the mattress dip behind her, and when his cock starts to move through her folds, she almost cums right then and there.

“I know you you wish you weren’t an Omega,” he starts, “but you’re a fuckin’ perfect one, baby.”

She shakes her head, soft whimpers escaping her as he continues to tease her with his dick. “I’m glad I’m an Omega, because I’m yours.”

With that, Dean loses what little self control he has left. He lines himself up with her entrance and sinks into her heat, and she feels so fucking perfect, the way she molds around his cock. The noises leaving her throat spur him on as he thrusts into her, setting a bruising pace. He wraps his hand around her shoulder for leverage, his other gripping her ass.

“Oh my fuck!” she practically screams, and he can feel how close she is, can smell it.

“You’re gonna be a good little Omega and cum for me, aren’t you baby?” he pants, and he couldn’t be thrusting deeper if he tried.

She nods frantically. “Yesyesyes, please, Alpha, I wanna to cum. I wanna — mm, fuck — on your —”

She’s too fucked out to even finish her sentence, and Dean can feel himself about to fall over the edge. “What’s that, sweetheart? Speak up.”

“I wanna cum — oh, God! — on your knot. Fucking fill me up, Dean, please.”

He barely manages another thrust before he buries himself to the hilt, the base of his cock swelling inside her as he pumps her full of his seed.

The feeling of him filling her sends her over the edge, her pussy clenching around his cock, his knot, and she feels so full and fucked and sated.

“Oh my fucking fuuuuck,” he groans, feeling her pulse around him. “Fuck, everyone and this fuckin’ party is gonna be able to smell me inside of you.”

She moans at his words.

“Gonna have me dripping down your thighs ‘til we get back home.” His hand squeezes the globe of her ass before he leans over, getting as close to her ear as he can. “And then I’m gonna fuck you again. And again. And again. Because we got three years to make up for.” He nips at her ear playfully. “And now you’re finally mine.”

#alpha dean winchester #dean winchester smut

1K notes · View notes

armysantiny · 2 months ago

Text

-[txt; finding out you’re a vampire

P: txt x gn reader (seperately) | G: fluff, reaction | Inc: roommate au, vampire reader, finding out y/n's secret, a bit of overthinking of Soobin's part, Soobin finding blood on y/n's clothes, second pov, non-idol au, nothing too graphic | Wc: 770 | W: blood, vampires | R: G

Min's notes: Just in time for spooky season! Lmao jk, I had this reaction written down in my notebook for like a year or so, but now felt like a good time to post it. Unofficial hiatus over?

Choi Yeonjun | 최연준

He walks in on you restocking that one mini fridge in your room, drinking through a blood bag and just freezes. You’ve never told him what the mini fridge was for, and he just assumed it was for drinks, or snacks, or whatever else someone would normally keep in them.

Sue him for not coming to the conclusion that he was living with a supernatural being.

Immediately gives you the sheepiest of smiles and backs out of the room, only a little scared of the notion that one of his closest friends is a vampire. And could drain him like a capri-sun if they so wished. Which, now that he thinks about it…

“Hey, y/n? Would you ever—”

“No, Yeonjun. I’m not biting you, so don’t even think about it.”

“Okay, okay~ not thinking about it…but if you had to—”

“Choi Yeonjun!”

Choi Soobin | 최수빈

Poor thing, he panics when he spots blood over the clothes in your laundry as he’s passing by your room. That’s clearly too much to be normal, right? Right? But he’s home alone, leaving him with nothing else to do but overthink about it until you come home from your afternoon shift.

You walk back inside, the tiniest hint of blood on your sleeve and Soobin zeroes in on it immediately.

“What’s this? What’s been happening, y/n? Are you okay?” There’s no room to avoid his questioning, physically or metaphorically and Soobin’s clearly not going to relent. Not when he’s this worried about you. So you begin your explanation, sitting him down and telling him that you are, in fact, a vampire. And he takes the news rather well.

Or as well as an overthinking but well-meaning roommate can.

Choi Beomgyu | 취범규

He spots something strange outside, and simply refuses to believe that that was you. It just couldn’t possibly be you, right? But the thought haunts him for weeks; everything’s suspicious now. You like walks at night? He wonders if you’re out to find blood. You put on a little more sunscreen than the average person? That’s it, you have to be something that isn’t human.

You’re the one who notices and calls him out on his behaviour, ambushing him in the kitchen and prodding at him to tell him what’s up.

“I think you’re a vampire!” He blurts out, and Beomgyu thinks he’s fucked up when you’re just silent for a few seconds.

Because he is right, you just have no idea how he got to that conclusion in the first place. So you nod, confirming his suspicions and ask him how on earth he even figured it out. Which prompts an entire retelling of Beomgyu’s month-long freak out.

Kang Taehyun | 강태현

He’s not the kind of person to make a big deal out of it, especially when being a vampire is just what you are and nothing more. Though he does pay more attention to your more nocturnal lifestyle, but he pins it down initially to you just being a night owl and enjoying being out at night more.

Plenty of people function better at night, after all.

When he sees you taking a sip out of a flask, he asks what it is and your hesitation to answer gives him reason to think. Are you drinking something out of the ordinary? He tries not to look too nosy, because again, it’s not really his business. Unless you’re hurt, you’re free to drink whatever you want.

Until you take it upon yourself to make it his business.

You’re the one to initiate the conversation, letting Taehyun know that yes, you’re a vampire, and that you’re more than okay with him asking questions. Frankly you were surprised he hadn’t been asking you at all, though a little grateful.

Huening Kai | 휴닝카이

Bless him, it’s Kai’s curiosity that makes him pick up on the smallest details. He catches sight of your fangs, at throws an off-hand comment about having a vampire for a best friend. Oh how right he is, and it takes everything you have to surprise him with the truth behind his words.

You might as well tell him at this point, he’s so unbelievably close yet somehow still has no idea. Likely because he, like Taehyun, also enjoys the peace that comes with minding your own damn business.

“So… I was right?” He asks when you finally take it upon yourself to tell him the truth after far too long of watching him be none the wiser. “Vampires are real, and you’re a vampire?”

You nod. “Simple as that. Not so curious anymore?”

“Not really?” He shrugs, “unless I find something to ask you about.”

You’re sure he will, soon enough.

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @blankjournal

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @softforqiankun, @blonghoonie, @xavi-in-kpopland

@freakywonbin, @marxenash, @borahae-reads, @honey-andmilktea | Taglist form

#Writer Elf Minnie #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #ultkpopnetwork #bjnet #txt reactions #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt scenarios #yeonjun fluff #soobin fluff #beomgyu fluff #taehyun fluff #hueningkai fluff #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader

108 notes · View notes

stellari-s · 6 months ago

Note

Omfg ithaqua centric tumblrs exist/j

I don't know I'd your still doing requests but can I request ithaqua with a reader who's rlly sweet and nice and everything, but the manor did like a swap with the survivors and hunters so that the hunters are the ones that run from the survivors and when Reader is picked they go NUTS. Like everyone's out and injured in like 2 minutes. After the event reader goes back to normal but if people look closely, Reader's picked up a bit of a hunger for blood sometimes...

✨

haha, ikr, and gosh, i’m really slow, i hope you’ll forgive me! but i will try my best with your request! i don’t end up describing the details of the match much rather than implying what happened, so i hope that’s ok.

request; yes, by anon! requests are currently closed, but my commissions are open if you’re interested.

wc; 945.

tags; default! ithaqua, gn! survivor! reader (who becomes hunter), reader treats ithaqua’s injuries.

summary; miss nightingale had come with a sudden announcement — survivors and hunters were going to switch places! and so, you are put into a match with ithaqua as the last one standing…

this very day was like a fever dream — but would it be a dream if one could see a subtle, yet irreversible change?

“a switch?”

ithaqua stayed silent, but he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. though he said little, his feelings reflected that of everyone else’s in the room where miss nightingale had gathered all the hunters on a whim to make the very announcement of a role switch. he honestly harbored mixed feelings on the prospect of being the one chased, rather than the one doing the chasing, but more than that...

he thought back to a certain face among the survivors. a seemingly innocent face, whose kindness knew no bounds. would they be up for the task, he wondered?

robbie’s enthusiastic voice dragged ithaqua from his thoughts back into reality.

“oh oh, does this mean we get to play something like reverse tag?”

“seems like it,” ithaqua muttered in reply.

miss nightingale nodded once everyone had settled down (or, displayed some semblance of having settled down). “i’m glad we are on the same page. gather in lakeside in one hour if you are called upon, and take care not to be late.”

when miss nightingale left, murmurs immediately broke out among the hunters.

...there really is something off with her. i don’t like it.

nonetheless, ithaqua had no right to refuse; he could only sigh and wait for an hour to pass.

“survivors will become the hunters?”

this was news to you. what in the world could have brought on this change in the manor owner’s heart?

...not that you could really understand him. in fact, many things in the manor had been intriguing.

little things piqued your interest, and whispered rumors became a source of curiosity.

“i’m not sure i feel comfortable facing against hunters... as a hunter,” helena said, “wouldn’t you agree, (y/n)?”

“hm?” you looked at helena, who had a resigned smile on her lips.

i suppose it would be difficult for her, considering she can’t see. then again, she has a cane, so maybe she’s fine, and her personality is just too kind?

some survivors were fit to be a hunter, but helena was not one of them. it wasn’t a bad thing; it simply wasn’t her strength.

you flashed her a gentle smile of your own. “it is definitely a sudden development. i can understand the difficulty in processing it.”

you neither confirmed nor denied it.

—— 20 minutes later.

there was only one hunter left now: ithaqua.

you had noticed this in previous matches against him when he was hunter, but even with those stilts that looked so easy to trip in, ithaqua was very quick on his feet. there was clearly a lot of skill in maneuvering around with those.

you would spot him, and you would chase after him, only for him to slip between your fingers like locks of hair.

while his appearance resembled that of a supernatural creature to be feared, you found through spending time with him outside of matches that he was not a bad person. in fact, he was quite nice behind that colder facade.

if it were other survivors, they would probably be more cautious around ithaqua.

finally, you caught up to him in the small boat in lakeside village. “you’re the only one left standing, ithaqua,” you said, “yet you won’t surrender. do you think two hours will pass before i can catch you?”

ithaqua chuckled. “i’ll take your words as a compliment.”

“as they are meant to be. but i think two hours is quite a long time, so will you allow me to catch you before then?”

“if you’re going to catch me, do it with your own abilities.”

you shrugged, a resigned smile playing on your lips. “i suppose it can’t be helped then.”

it turned out you didn’t need him to “allow” you.

after the match, which had lasted around half an hour total, ithaqua hissed a little in pain as you wrapped the bandage around his arm, where he had cut himself.

“would it hurt to be a little more gentle treating my wound?”

“oh, don’t you know? it’s better to wrap the gauze more tightly. i do sincerely apologize for the... slightly rough handling toward the end of the match though. so please just think of this as repayment.”

ithaqua fell silent. this was one of the rare times he had his mask off, so you could see his eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed, and his lips pursed as he averted his pale blue eyes.

“what’s wrong?” you waved a hand in front of him.

“i don’t know. but is it just me or do you just look... a little different?”

“hm?”

he turned to look at you for a brief moment before retracting his arm. “it’s nothing. thanks for treating my arm.”

ithaqua stood up and tried to walk out of the room, but you called after him as his hand made contact with the knob.

“hey, ithaqua.”

he stood in frozen in place like a statue, as if contemplating whether or not he should turn out. in the end, he stayed still as he replied, “what?”

though he wouldn’t be able to see it, you flashed a smile his way.

“i look forward to the next match.”

you could have sworn you saw his shoulders twitch slightly upon hearing your words. he then turned around (to your surprise) and, with a sharp tone, shouted “well i don’t!” before shutting the door behind him.

you couldn’t help but let out a lighthearted laugh — he kind of reminded you of a cat.

a cat surely worth chasing, you reckoned.

#divider by cafekitsune #identity v #idv #id5 #第五人格 #idv ithaqua #identity v ithaqua #idv night watch #identity v night watch #id5 ithaqua #夜の番人 #idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v fanfic #idv fanfic #idv fic #ithaqua x reader #idv hunter #gn reader

254 notes · View notes

moonlightndaydreams · 18 days ago

Text

Good things come in small packages

[originally posted on my second blog @daydreams-after-dark in June 2024 ]

Pairing: Mini Han x fem reader (cameo from Minho)

Synopsis: One year ago you purchased a ‘miniature companion’ named Hannie. He’s the size of a Ken doll but alive and horny. But something unexpected happens on your one year anniversary.

Word count: approx 9k

A/n: This fic was originally posted on my second blog @daydreams-after-dark. however the story turned out somewhat adorable and sweet, making me want to keep a copy of it over here with all my other lovey dovey Han Jisung fics. There is still smut... don't you worry about that.

CW below the cut

CW: supernatural themes, oral sex, sexual acts, sexual themes, voyeurism, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex, rough sex, angst, brief themes of depression, fear of suicide (just a fleeting thought), size kink?

You've had your miniature human, Hannie, for almost a year?! You realize, sitting at your work desk as you look at your desktop calendar. You smile and make a note to organize a celebration for just the two of you, and to buy a cheesecake for dessert. Hannie loves cheesecake. Your smile grows. He always manages to get it all over him, then wants to get it all over you so he can lick it off you.

One year this coming weekend. It feels like time has flown, yet at the same time it feels like he’s been part of your life forever. Your heart bursts as you think back to how it all came to be.

You had been lonely. You'd broken up with your long term boyfriend and was feeling sad one night. So you went online to doom scroll, and online shop. You expected you'd end up down a rabbit hole of cat memes and be $500 down in shoe purchases, but instead an ad appeared on your screen.

"Miniature human companions" it said, with images of very attractive men. Miniature men. Were they human? Couldn't be. Were they robots? Probably. They must be really expensive to make which is why they are so small, you'd decided.

You were intrigued, so you researched the company, finding that this new type of 'companion' utilizes cutting edge technology that simulates actual human behavior and bodily functions.

By 4am you'd chosen your companion. His name was Han. He was adorable and attractive, with fluffy black hair and pouty lips, and from the personality trait notes, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Pay Now". You can still remember the feeling of excitement that ran through you as hit the button to complete your purchase.

When he arrived, he came in a box with air holes, which you found kind of weird considering he didn't actually breathe oxygen. You set the box on your kitchen table, took a deep breath and lifted the lid. You gasped as you peered inside.

A little man, about the size of a Ken doll, sat on a blanket eating miniature crisps out of a miniature chip bag.

"Oh hello!" he looked up at you. "Are you my Noona?" he waved excitedly.

Holy fucking shit. You almost fainted as you stumbled to sit down on a dining chair.

You knew he was meant to talk, but he just seemed so real as he chewed his food then licked the seasoning off his lips like he could actually taste it. His little chest moved with his breath, like he was really breathing. Could he do everything a human can do? You wondered.

"My name’s Hannie." He said standing up and brushing the crumbs off his trousers.

"Um...I-I'm Y/n..." you stuttered, trying to process what you were witnessing,

"You're really pretty, Y/n." He beamed up at you with a gummy grin.

You prepared him a little space of his own, with a makeshift bed, clothing that you had also ordered from the company you purchased him from, and bought a set of Barbie sized cups, plates and furniture. You even bought him a Barbie Dreamhouse to live in, but he preferred to just climb up your full sized furniture and use that.

You studied the information manual that came with him and learned that he could in fact, experience life just as a human did. He needed to eat, sleep, wash, poop. Oh and he could get erections and ejaculate. Wow!

Over the next weeks and months you'd gotten yourselves into a routine, and became really close. He was your best friend. You did everything together, mostly staying at home. You assumed he was some sort of AI, and that's why you got along so well, but the longer he was with you, the more his own interests came to the surface. Like singing and Anime.

He helped you bake, often getting himself covered in flour and other ingredients. You'd watch movies together. Most nights you'd lay on the couch and he'd lay face down on your chest while you watched your favorites. Sometimes you'd feel him get hard against the curve of your breast, and you'd think inappropriate thoughts about him. You'd grow wet between your legs and wish he was able to touch you.

He loved it when you’d brush his hair with a tiny little hairbrush and sit him on your benchtop in the bathroom when you’re getting ready for the day. You know he loved it when you forgot he was there one time and you took a shower in front of him. He got so hard watching you soap up your body.

Sometimes you'd take him out on a picnic somewhere secluded near the ocean so he could freely move about the picnic blanket without fear of being seen. Or he'd sneak into your work bag and scare the shit out of you when you were working.

In the early days, you'd occasionally go on dates with actual men. Mostly to take your mind of your growing feelings for Hannie. You'd bring them home and fuck them in your bed, knowing he was somewhere watching, listening. You'd imagine him getting hard from your noises, and it made you moan even louder just picturing it. You'd imagine it was Hannie inside you too, pounding hard into your cunt, and making you come on his cock.

He was distant with you in the days after. He’d sit around sulking and pouting.

"What's wrong, Hannie?" You asked him after he’d ignored you for three days.

"Noona... it's just…I get so jealous of them." He burst into tears. "I want to do things like that to you. I want to the be the one who makes you come." He sobbed.

Things changed after that. You no longer went out with other men, and you and your miniature companion began to explore a more physical, more sexual, relationship.

From letting you see each other naked, to mutual masturbation, to eventually touching each other and making each other come.

You soon learned that even though Hannie is small, he is extremely talented with his mouth, and he can make you come harder than anyone had ever before.

One morning he noticed that you were still asleep, and very naked. The way you were laying, legs splayed out looked so inviting to him. You’d kicked your blanket off at some point. He couldn’t help himself.

You woke up to a sensation between your legs, and when you looked down you saw him kneeling between your your legs, using his arms to push your pussy lips open and doing his very best to lap at your clit.

“Hannie?” You whimpered. He stopped for a moment to stand up and wave at you, the entire front of his body dripping with your arousal. “I’ve just found my favorite thing to do!” He said enthusiastically and then he was back to being buried against your pussy.

These days, at night time he’ll climb up onto your chest while you’re lying in bed watching videos on your phone. He still loves to nestle against the bulge of your breasts, especially if you’re in a loose satin camisole, and he’ll slide himself under the fabric.

“What do you want to watch, Hannie?” You’ll ask him.

“Porn!” He’ll answer excitedly. The phone is like a giant screen to him and it’s never long before you feel him shimmying his clothes off and rubbing his little swollen erection against your skin.

He’s such a desperate little thing that you let him do whatever he needs to get himself off. Often, he’ll rub his cock along your bottom lip while he humps your tits, or he’ll scramble to suck on your nipple. He does his best to stretch his mouth around it, while he grinds against you and cumming on your soft skin. Then he’ll pass out right there. Poor little tyke gets himself tired.

Some of the kinkier things he gets you to do include tying him up and edging him until his cock becomes so painfully red and engorged that he’s crying. His naked body is delicious to look at, and you love to run the pad of your index finger over his muscles. He’s perfectly toned, his skin honey brown, and his cock is mouth-wateringly big for his frame.

He’s rendered helpless as you stroke your finger gently up and down his body. Then, using the tip of your tongue, you lick his cock carefully whilst shoving your pinky finger into his mouth.

There are times when you’ll dress up in lingerie covered in buckles and straps and he’ll climb up your body like he’s doing some kind of adventure hike. He gets so sweaty and very hard as he explores the terrain of your body.

He really is the perfect companion.

You are broken from your thoughts by your alarm signaling it's time to go home from work, and you hurry home to see your Hannie.

_____________

"Fuck! Hannie! Please... need to come...need one more...please. Don't stop." You pant. It's later that evening, and you're on the verge of your third orgasm with Hannie between your thighs sucking expertly on your clit. He's got your lips spread open as far as he can manage, and he's grinding against your core seeking his own release. Inside your pussy you've got your vibrator egg on full intensity. "Yes!!! Yes...coming!!!" You cry as you arch off the bed as you come all over him.

He quickly climbs up your body, almost slipping off because he’s covered in so much of your cream, and kneels on your chest to pump his cock until he’s spurting cum onto your tongue.

“Tastes so good, Hannie.” You show him your empty tongue, but he’s already collapsed across your body.

You clean him up and put him in his striped pajamas, before you both nestle into bed. You’re used to him sleeping on the pillow next to you now, although it took you a while to stop worrying you’d roll on him in the night.

“Noona? Did you know that tomorrow it’ll be one year since I came here?” He says sleepily.

You roll onto your side and smile. “Yes, actually I do, honey. Have a think about what you’d like to do to celebrate, okay. Anything you want."

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. But just so you know, it’ll involve me being buried in your pussy.”

————-

Han laid back on the pillow. What would he like to do to celebrate? He’d love to celebrate by being inside you. Properly. Fully.

He wishes he could do the things he'd seen those men you’d do to you all those months ago. To pin your legs up and fuck you so hard the bed would shake. He takes his mind back to when he’d hide on your shelf and watch, fucking into his hand and holding back tears of despair.

What would it be like to bend you over and fuck you from behind? What would it even be like to fuck you at all? He wants to know so bad.

But he does have a special relationship with you, he supposes. Not every guy has to stretch his mouth around a nipple or clit like he has to. Can those men be covered head to toe in your juices? Or lay completely across the bulge of your boob. No. They can’t. Only he can.

He pouts to himself.

He knows he’s got it good, you are his everything. But as he lays on the pillow next you and closes his eyes, he wonders if he’s enough for you? Could you give up real men forever, with real sized cocks that can stretch you out and fill you deep? Would you be okay with never having a boyfriend you could take out in public, or take to family events, or be seen with?

Could you settle for him? A miniature version of a man?

He sighs. "Goodnight, Noona. Love you." He whispers as he leans over and gives your giant lips a kiss.

"Goodnight, my sweet Hannie. I love you too." you reply sleepily.

As he drifts off to sleep he wishes what he always wishes. That he could be human sized and be with you like a proper human.

-----------

The morning sun peeks through your window, landing on your face and causing you to stir. You groan and try to stretch, but a heaviness across your middle keeps you in place. You peer down to find a man's arm wrapped around you, snuggling you tight.

Fear courses through your body, and you scream as you fling the arm off and jump out bed. You grab your lamp, ready to hit the intruder.

"Noona?" The man lifts his head, his dark locks falling around his face.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see the confused look on his face. "Hannie!?" You choke, hands poised to strike.

"Noona? What are you doing?" he peers down at the pillow his head had been resting on, and then down the bed toward his feet. "Why is your bed so small?"

"Hannie?" You whisper, lowering the lamp, letting it drop to the floor.

"Why is everything so small? Wait. Why am I naked? Noona, have you been playing with me in my sleep?" He looks up at you confused and worried. "Noona, why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes land on his pajamas, torn to shreds next to him. He picks up the scrap of fabric that was his pajama top, and his eyes widen. "Why are my clothes so tiny?"

"Hannie," you take in the man before you, naked and taking up most of the bed. "You're big."

Han just stares at you blankly. Then realization hits him, causing him to spring out of bed and look around the room frantically.

"Hannie?" You say again. "Hannie, look at me." You take a step closer to him and he finally looks at you. It's as though your gaze anchors him and he appears to calm down somewhat. His eyes soften and he looks at you like he's looking at you for the very first time, just as you are with him.

You already know he has an incredible physique. Broad shoulders, slim waist, toned muscles. But standing before you right now he’s breathtaking. But you don't love him for his body. You love him for his heart.

Standing fully naked in front of you, he seems less real than when he was small. How can this be happening? It's impossible. Right?

"Noona?" His eyes drop to where your gaze has fallen. Right on his cock, still semi hard from his morning wood. It's the most delicious thing you've ever seen. So much bigger than you expected too. You can't help but imagine all the things you want to do with it. You have imagined it plenty over the past year. How you want him to fill you up, or make you choke on it. How it tastes. How it feels in your mouth.

"Hey!" he covers himself with his hands. "I'm going through a crisis and you're staring at my dick!" He exasperates. He narrows his eyes. "Oh my God, Noona? You know what this means?" His eyes light up with excitement.

"I do, Han. Trust me, I know. But first we need to figure out what is going on. Why this has happened." You take another step towards him, closing the distance, and with shaking hands you reach out and touch his chest. You feel his heart pounding and it makes your heart beat faster too.

He's real.

"Do you think my wish has finally come true?" he whispers. "I wish it every night before I fall asleep. That I'd wake up and be human sized."

You look up to meet his gaze. His gorgeous big brown eyes. "I wish it every night too. It's just... this doesn’t make any sense.” You pause. “Wait. The manual. Maybe it says something in that?”

Without giving him any warning, you snap into action and disappear into your walk-in wardrobe, returning with a pair of sweatpants and an oversized tee.

"Here. Put these on. I can't be getting distracted." You say and hurry out of the bedroom.

----------

"I thought you said you'd studied the manual?" Han says suspiciously whilst chewing on the scrambled eggs and toast you quickly cooked for him. You were quite happy to forgo your breakfast so you could search for answers, but his stomach rumbled so loudly you couldn’t ignore it.

While he scoffs down his breakfast, and you're still in your pajamas, you pore over the instruction manual spread open on the dining table, looking for any information that might help.

"Well... I kind of only read about how to keep you alive. You know, like how often I needed to feed and water you." you reply casually. Inside, you wish you had read the rest of the information. Maybe you would have had a heads up about this and you could have prepared yourself?

"Do you think I'm going to be like this permanently? Like the first year was a test of your commitment or something? Maybe I could learn guitar? Or cook? Or-"

"Okay. I've got something." You interrupt. "It says here: At twelve months of ownership, your companion will transform into typical human size-"

Han's eyes light up excitedly. "Wait! So this means?"

You hold up your hand to hush him. "There's more." You say. "He will remain in this state for 48 hours, before returning to his original size."

“Oh.” Han’s fork clatters on his plate. You look up at him as his expression changes from excited and hopeful, to absolutely crestfallen and deflated.

"I'm so sorry, Hannie." you whisper. You know how badly he wants to be big. You watch as he swallows a lump in his throat, and without a word, he stands and walks into the kitchen to look out of the window above the sink.

————

Forty eight hours? So It's not permanent? What kind of fucking idiot is he to think he'd ever be able to be a human? He tries to fight back the tears as he looks out of the window.

It's a beautiful, sunny morning, and usually on a day like this he'd climb up onto the windowsill and watch the world. There's a little strip of shops across the street that he especially loves to watch. His favorite is the flower shop. Observing the customers going in and out buying flowers and bouquets for loved ones. They’re such pretty colors too, the flowers. He’d love to be able to buy flowers for you.

A lady about your age works there, and sometimes another man is there too. Han doesn’t see him there often, but knows he’s someone special the way the shop owner and him look at and hold each other. Maybe he travels for work? He's often wondered as he sits on the windowsill.

He's broken from his thoughts when he feels your arms wrap around his waist and you lean against his back. His eyes close softly, and his body relaxes as he savors the feeling of being embraced in this way for the first time.

"Hannie, I know we don't have long, but maybe if we see it as a gift?"

He turns in your arms to face you, and wraps his own arms around you. You feel so good like this. In his arms. Holding so much of you in one go. Feeling your entire body pressed against his. It's better than he ever imagined.

"You're right." He says finally. "We can't waste a minute of this precious time. There's so much I have to do to you." His dick twitches when he sees your cheeks flush. He knows you're not shy, but if you feel anything like he does right now, then you’d have to be trembling on the inside.

His hand slides up to hold your jaw tenderly as he brings his lips close to yours. Sure he's kissed you, parts of your lips - both sets even, and other parts of your skin. But your lips in their entirety? He feels so scared, so nervous. What if he's a shit kisser?

"Stop thinking, Han Jisung." You say and connect your lips to his.

His lips fit yours perfectly and he melts into them with a moan. He kisses you slowly and carefully and a warmth spreads throughout his body. He hardens immediately when he feels your tongue slip into his mouth to find his. Your tongue, the one that’s licked his entire torso in one sweep, is currently inside his mouth.

He allows his hands to wander lower to cup your ass. He loves your ass and often stares at it when you're doing housework in your tight little exercise shorts. Another moan escapes him when he pulls you even closer against his body. Touching so many parts of you all at once has him feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible. What will it be like when he’s inside you as well? He has to know.

He lowers his hands a little more to lift you up and you wrap your legs around his. Then he’s carrying you - actually carrying you - to your bedroom.

Your room is still filled with the warm sunlight, and Han is glad because he’ll be able to see absolutely everything. He lays you gently on the bed and kisses you deeply, then sits up to kneel between your parted legs.

“I think these need to come off.” He announces, flicking the waistband of your pajama shorts.

You smirk. “You do, huh?”

“Yes. We need to be naked.” He starts tugging off your clothes, then his own.

You look stunning beneath him, and you feel the same way about him. The sunlight hits his honey skin perfectly and you feel a surge of love for the man above you.

This is actually happening, is the thought going through both your heads.

Han gulps as he drinks you in with his eyes. Where to begin? He decides to start with your breasts. Holding them in his hands, massaging them. He loves the pretty noises you’re making as he kneads them. He leans over to take a nipple in his mouth, flicking the tiny pebbled nub that he normally has to stretch his mouth around. It goes straight to his dick and he can’t help but grind his cock against your core. This is too much already. He sits back up between your legs to try and regain his composure. He doesn’t want the first time he has intercourse to be over before it begins. To bide some time, he slowly runs his hands down your stomach and massages the tops of your thighs while his eyes lock onto your pussy. Home.

His favorite thing in the world is to eat you out, and he’s excited to taste you. Firstly, though, he is dying to explore you with his fingers. He drags his thumbs through your folds. “Wet for me as usual, Noona.” He states, glancing up to see your flushed cheeks. He chuckles to himself knowing how flustered he’s making you.

“Hannie…always soaked for you.” You say with a breathlessness to your voice.

He rubs circles on your clit with his thumb whilst using his other hand to spread you wide.

“I need your fingers inside me, Hannie.” you wiggle your hips to give him the hint.

“Like this?” He asks innocently as he slips two fingers into you. You moan in relief, making him smirk again.You’re so tight just around his fingers that he can’t imagine how you are going to fit his cock. He partially withdraws his fingers then pushes them back into your warm, wet, cunt. He repeats this a few times, your moans and ‘yes’s urging him to go a little harder, a little deeper. He remembers watching you finger fuck yourself and that there’s a spot inside you that when you stimulate it makes you come. He needs to try it.

He angles his fingers a little differently and fucks you with his hand. The response is immediate. Your pussy begins to make those lewd, but arousing sounds, that he has heard when you’ve made yourself cum on your dildo. Your back arches off the bed and your thighs start to tremble. He knows the signs of you having an orgasm. He’s made you come so many times. But not like this. He leans over you to slide his tongue into your mouth, capturing the moans from your orgasm while his fingers work you through it until you’ve settled back to earth. Stunning. Erotic. Perfect. That’s what you are to him right now.

Now he can eat you out. Lick up all that arousal leaking from your delectable pussy. He nestles between your legs, his agonizingly hard cock squashed between his stomach and the mattress. He knows it’s leaking all over your quilt.

Firmly holding your thighs apart, he licks a long stripe from your vagina to clit. You taste perfect. He is careful not to go too hard or too rough. When he’s tiny he needs to use all his energy and strength to get you off, but right now even the most delicate of licks or suckles has you whimpering for him.

He spits on your clit and then sucks it off. Then moves lower to slip his tongue inside you. He has to hold you still as another orgasm starts to build for you. He loves making you feel this way.

He needs to make you come again, so he slips a finger into your pussy while he laps at your clit. He feels you come on his face, shaking, quivering, covering him in your juices. Yep. Still his favorite thing to do.

He removes himself from between your legs to hover over you to take you in an urgent kiss, smearing your arousal all over your lips. His dick throbs.

“Hannie,” you pull away from the kiss. “I really need you inside me. I need it so much it hurts.” You look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Me too, Noona.” He gulps. He’s so fucking scared and hopes you don’t notice.

“Are you nervous?” You reach up and stroke his cheek.

Of course you noticed it. You always know how he feels. He nods. “Yeah. I am actually. I am a virgin you know?” He chuckles awkwardly, like you didn’t know he’d never actually fucked before.

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and pull him close. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let it slip in. Dicks usually find a way into a pussy.” You whisper in his ear.

He trusts you and grinds the length of his cock against your slipper pussy. It’s already beyond incredible feeling your soft skin against his obscenely hard cock. You both moan equally in pleasure and the frustration of needing more, so he shifts his hips to allow the tip of his cock to prod at you.

“Yes!” You cry out against his ear. “Fuck…Hannie…need you. It’s so close…”

All it takes is a slight adjustment of the angle of his hips and he feels the tip slip inside you.

“Please…hurry.” You sob. “I love you so much, Hannie.”

“I love you too, Noona.” he says with a shaky breath, and then he’s inside you. All the way to the hilt. You both moan in relief.

“You’re so tight.” he declares, his eyes rolling back into his head. He’s not going to last even a thrust. It’s already too good. But he begins to move anyway, eventually finding a slow, deep rhythm.

He was wrong. This is his most favorite thing to do. Be buried in your pussy, with your arms and legs wrapped around him as you moan his name over and over. Definitely his favorite.

“Faster…please… harder…oh Hannie…fuck.” You claw at his back trying to pull him even deeper. He obliges, picking up the pace, fucking you harder. He kneels between your legs again so he can see all of you. The sight is erotic. Seeing all of you at once, with your legs folded and pushed up high and wide. Your breasts bouncing with every thrust. And the expression on your face as you look down at where you’re connected almost makes him fill you right then and there.

“I’m coming, Hannie… I’m…don’t stop! Come with me. Come inside me!” You’re already trembling beneath him, and there’s no way in hell he’d be able to stop himself coming inside you even if he wanted to. He’s about to burst. Not just his cock, but his heart too. He loves you too much. He takes his thumb back to your clit and focuses on bringing you over the edge. He feels your walls squeeze tight around him like a vice, and it sends him over as well. With a few last shaky thrusts, he releases himself inside of you with a deep moan.

“Noona… Fuck…” he pants and collapses on top of you. “That was the best feeling in the whole world. I don’t know how anyone gets anything done when they could be doing that!”

—-----------

The day passes far too quickly as you fill the rest of the day with lovemaking, food, drinks, and even more lovemaking. You both don't want to miss a single moment of each other. Night comes too quickly, and despite trying your best to stay awake, sleep eventually takes you both as you lay in his arms.

-----------

The sun streams through the window waking you from your sleep. You feel Han's arm laying heavy across your waist. It wasn't a dream. Your eyes snap open to find him fast asleep, mouth open, and still very much human size.

You watch him until he finally stirs and opens his eyes. "Am I still big? Are we still naked?" He asks sleepily.

You grin in response. "Yes. You're still big. And we’re still naked. " You lean down and kiss his cheek.

"So we can have more sex today?" he adds, rubbing his eyes.

"Anything you want, my love." You say and let your hand wander down to rest on his erect cock. Flicking the sheet off of him, you begin to kiss your way down his body, savoring every inch of his skin, ensuring you remember this moment forever. You pause when you reach his cock, admiring the way it looks. Fucking perfect. Mouthwatering. You waste no time taking him in your hand and bringing your tongue to the underside of his shaft.

He releases a sharp breath. “Fuck, Noona. Please…are you gonna suck me off? Please suck my cock, Noona.” he begs, lifting his head and looking down at you. You give him a sly look and swirl your tongue around the tip, and he throws his head back down onto the pillow, surrendering to you and your plans.

You take your time teasing him, alternating between kitten licks to the tip, to long languid strokes of your tongue along the shaft. His breathless pants turn to whimpers, then finally a deep, relieving groan as you sink your mouth over him. You take as much of him into your throat as you possibly can, and even though your eyes start to water, you take him even deeper.

“Baby, Noona…This is…your mouth… How can you even breathe right now?” He can barely get the words out. “So good… ngh…s’good.” he squeezes his eyes closed trying his hardest not to thrust into you. His hands thread through your hair and rest on the back of your head. You hope he pushes you down further so you take absolutely everything, and when he does, you feel your cunt tighten and your arousal leaking between your legs.

Your lips are pressed to his pelvis and he isn’t letting you go. You are finding it hard to breathe, but you don’t care. You want more. You feel him getting close when his cock hardens even more and he starts thrusting into your throat. Yes. This is what you need.

Han gets noisier as he approaches his climax, then you feel it. The familiar taste of his hot cum hits the back of your throat. He cries out then stills, releasing his hands from your head and relaxing into the bed.

As usual, you swallow every last drop. There is so much more compared to normal, the fluid coating the back of your mouth, then you make your way up to kiss his lips.

Han grins at you with hooded eyes. “Fuck, Noona! That was so fucking goog.”

“You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured doing that for you, Hannie.” You smile and curl up to his side.

“Noona?” he says, stroking your arm.

“Mmm. Yes my love?” you hum.

“Do you think…after we fuck again, we can go out? There’s something I want to do.”

You turn your head to gaze at him. “Of course. Anything you want, my love.” you say again, but this time with a curious tone.

-----------

"Are you sure I don’t look weird?" Han isn't convinced that the sweatpants and tee you have given him are gender neutral.

"You're fine, I promise. Just trust me?" You reply, locking your front door. You take his hand in yours and begin to up your front path. As you reach the sidewalk, he begins to have second thoughts. Sure he's been out of the house with you before. In your handbag, hidden away. Safe. Unseen. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all, he thinks to himself. Maybe he shouldn't have such lofty ideas? But he's not going to have another opportunity to do this. So he has to be brave.

“”What would you like to do, Hannie?”

“There’s something I’ve thought about doing for a while now. Buy you flowers.” He gestures to the flower shop across from your home.

Your eyes light up and a smile washes over your features. “I’d absolutely love that!” You squeeze his hand and look up at him. “I love you Hannie.” You say and kiss him on the lips.

“Noona, y-you can’t do that!” He stutters.

“Do what, sweetie?” You tease, and kiss him again. This time a little longer.

He pushes you away gently. “You’re getting me hard.” He whispers sternly and looks around to make sure no one can notice.

“Okay, Han. No public display of affection. Got it.” You pinch his chubby cheek.

The flower shop isn't very big, but it manages to accommodate so many flowers and bouquets that fill every corner and surface. Han takes in the floral scents, and the vibrancy of the colors, and smiles when his eyes land on what he's looking for.

"Can I help you with anything?" the shop owner asks cheerfully.

"Yes, can I please have the bouquet of purple tulips?" he says proudly.

The owner, who's name tag says 'Jules', takes the bouquet back to the counter to ring up the price. "That will be $60."

That's right. He has no money. He closes his eyes for a moment, berating himself. Of course he can't pay. He has no bank account. No identification. He's not a citizen of... anywhere really. He's an alien.

"That's okay, I've got it. He forgot his wallet today." You step in from out of nowhere and take care of paying for the flowers.

Ashamed by his inadequacy, Han steps away from the counter, and busies himself by looking at the corner with some potted houseplants. He quite likes the houseplants you own, often sitting underneath the leaves pretending to be somewhere outdoors. He chuckles to himself at how silly that sounds when movement behind one of the pot plants catches his eye.

Intrigued, he crouches down and ever so slowly nudges one of the plants to the side. His eyes widen and he almost stumbles backward when he sees a little man, the size of a Ken doll, looking up at him.

The same man that he’s seen kissing and holding Jules the shop owner multiple times.

Han blinks, not believing what he is seeing, but when he opens his eyes the little man is gone. Where did he go? Did he imagine it? He starts shifting plant pots around, desperately trying to find him.

"Hannie. I'm done now." you call to him from the shop entrance.

----------

"Hannie, what's wrong?" You ask as you both step outside onto the sidewalk. "Is it about paying for these?" You hold up the tulips.

"No, Noona. It's not that." He turns to look back at the shop.

"Han? You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?" You press your hand to his forehead. Sweaty and warm. Is he getting sick?

"I'm fine. Just... the forty eight hours are coming to an end tonight." He frowns.

You drop your head. You have been trying your best not to think about it. Today was so perfect, spending time with Han like a proper couple. It felt so heartwarming watching him with his big, curious eyes as he interacted with his surroundings.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the flowers. "What made you choose these?" you ask him curiously.

"Well," He starts, as you begin to walk back towards your home. "From what I read on the internet they are a symbol of perfect love." He smiles sheepishly. "It also said that they symbolize rebirth, as well as being known to help us let go of the past and embrace the future with renewed optimism and hope." he adds, proud to have remembered the details he'd read.

"I think that sounds perfect." You smile warmly and kiss him on the cheek.

---------------

Dinner is a quiet affair. The quietest it’s ever been. Usually at dinner time you share your day with each other, listening intently, offering advice or support, or whatever each of you needed that night. Tonight you’re both thinking about the same thing. That your time together like this is coming to an end. Neither of you want to talk about the elephant in the room, so you both stay silent.

After a while you see Han set his knife and fork on his plate and stand up, walking around to your side of the table. You look up at him and he offers his hand out to you. Wordlessy, you take it and let him lead you to your bedroom.

He’s not gentle as he pushes you down onto the mattress and practically rips your clothes off before climbing on top of you and taking you in a rough, heated kiss. He shoves his tongue past your lips and you thread your fingers through his hair to pull him into an even deeper, even more feral kiss. He pulls away only to remove his own garments, then he forces your legs apart so he can line his cock up to your entrance.

Without any preparation, or warning, he pushes the entire length of his cock into you in one go. You cry out at the intrusion, but part your legs further. You need him inside you, to consume you.

He’s careless with his thrusts, and his hands grope and squeeze, bruising your flesh. There’s a look of anger and resentment in his eyes. You know it’s not because of you, but at this whole situation. It feels so unfair to have a glimpse of how life could be, and know that it’s never going to be like this again. You love Hannie no matter what. But this feels so good too. Why? Why let you experience this, only to have torn away so quickly?

“Are you gonna remember me like this forever, Noona? How full I make you? How deep inside you I am? How hard I can fuck you?” He growls. “Tell me. Tell me you’ll never forget it. Cos I’m never going to forget how your pussy feels around me. Squeezing me tight. Tell me I’m your favorite. Tell me I feel better than anyone before me.”

Han’s words are aggressive, and so is the way he’s fucking you. But his voice is full of heartbreak and angst. You want him to give you everything. His sadness, his anger, you want him to take it out on you.

He thrusts his hips even harder against your body, and his cock slams into your cervix, causing you to cry out his name.

“Hannie!” You choke. He doesn’t slow down or go easy on you. You can barely breathe.

“Say it… please…Tell me your mine.” he sobs, but he doesn’t slow down.

“I’m yours, Hannie…forever.” you whimper.

He leans down over you, caging you underneath him. “Come for me. Come on my cock.” He growls, his hot breath against your ear. “I wanna feel your pussy choke me one last time.”

It’s too much and you come hard around him, sobbing against his shoulder.

“That’s it…Yes…Fuck! I’m coming too!” He grunts as he thrusts his hips a few more times and empties himself inside you.

You stay like this for a while. Breathless and sweating. Eventually, he lifts his head and looks down on you. “Did I hurt you?” He asks with a concerned expression.

You shake your head. “It was passionate. I needed you to fuck me like that.” You sigh. He closes his eyes softly in relief, then withdraws his softened cock from you.

Neither of you move to clean up, or even get a drink, or even say another word. You simply lay in the comfort of each other’s arms as though the world was about to end.

---------

You fall asleep first, but Han can't sleep. He doesn't want to sleep. So he watches you sleep instead. He cups your cheek. He needs to burn the image of this into his brain, for tomorrow his hand will barely be able to wrap around your pinky finger. These past forty eight hours were a dream come true, but he’s not sure how he’ll get over it either.

-------------

You wake to find your bed empty. "Han?" You call out and search the bed, lifting the blankets. Sometimes he ends up tangled in them, but he isn't there.

You hop out of bed, slip on your robe and head out into the kitchen. You find him sitting on the windowsill above the sink. Small as ever. You feel a sadness in your chest and bite your lip as you approach him. "Hannie?" You say softly, leaning your arms on the counter next to the sink so your face is close to him.

"I'm okay Noona." he sighs, but doesn't turn to face you.

"You want me to fix you some breakfast before I go to work?" You ask hopefully, but he shakes his head.

The usual conversation that you have when you get ready for work is replaced with a heavy, awkward silence.

"You know, Hannie, you are perfect to me no matter what. Your personality, your heart - it’s bigger than that of any man in the world.” You say as you turn to leave the kitchen and head out the front door for work.

--------------

Han hasn’t left the windowsill in days. He hasn’t washed, he's barely eaten. The spark you love so much in him has dimmed, and you’re frightened that it won't come back. It's not like you can get him therapy. No one knows about him. No one can know about him.

Every day you leave for work not knowing what you'll find when you return home. What if he’s left? What if he's-" No you won't let yourself even go there.

Those forty eight hours of him being big was not worth it, and if you could take it back and go back to how things were before, you'd do it in a heartbeat. You just want your Hannie back.

--------------

Han knows you love him. But he can't help but feel depressed. He feels worse now than he has ever felt in his entire, albeit short, life. It's like him becoming big was some sick, cruel joke. Like it was to taunt him. To show him how good it could really be, how good it could really feel, to be a human, just to snatch it away from him.

It isn't just depression that's consuming him. It's an obsession with the flower shop and that little man he had seen that day.

For ten days now he’s stared at the shop hoping to catch a glimpse of...something... anything that might give him answers or closure. They know something. He can feel it.

Then finally it happens. Han hurries to a kneeling position, face pressed against the glass to catch a better look.

The man is back. As a human sized man. Han guesses he's seen this man maybe four times over as many months. He stands in the doorway waving to a customer before going back into the shop. It definitely looks like the little guy he saw standing by the pot plant.

You probably imagined it. You were probably over excited from the sex with Noona. Can sex make you hallucinate? Han isn't sure of anything anymore. Except that the miniature man was either imaginary, or, he has the answers Han's looking for.

-------------------

You leave work early and pick up a cheesecake. Han hasn’t eaten in days and you hope his favorite dessert might perk him up a little bit, even if it’s just a sugar rush.

You open your front door kicking your shoes off, and make your way upstairs to your main living area. The house is eerily quiet, even with a depressed Han it's too quiet. Something is off. Something is wrong.

“Hannie?” You call out. No answer. You place the cheesecake box on the counter. He’s not on his windowsill. Maybe he’s asleep somewhere? You check your bedroom next. He isn’t there either. You search every room, calling out his name.

Nothing.

He’s gone. He’s actually gone! Why? Why would he leave? Where would he go? What if he’s hurt? What if he’s - you gulp. You start to panic and begin to check everywhere again. Maybe he fell into a drawer? Maybe he’s stuck somewhere?

Again, nothing.

He really was gone.

—-----------

Han has never ventured out of the house by himself before. Well this month has been full of firsts, he thinks. Why not climb down the stairs and sneak out of a slightly ajar window?

He jumps down from the window sill and tumbles into the garden, surprisingly unscathed. He is on a mission and nothing is going to stop him.

Determination takes over any fear of being eaten by the neighbors cat, or being runover by a car, as he carefully treks across the road to the flower shop.

He hasn't even planned what he’s going to say. What if he's mistaken and the owner faints? What if she kills him? Or kidnaps him? Tortures him? No. He shakes his head. The lady was really nice the other day. People love to go to her shop. It'll be fine.

By the time Han reaches the threshold he is hot, sweaty and very thirsty. He looks up to looming doorway and swallows hard. Here goes nothing.

He slips inside, carefully seeking the cover of a nearby flower pot. The shop looks gigantic compared to last time he was there.

He notices something that he missed the last time. That the entire shop is set up suspiciously accessible for him. Like it was made for someone his size. Strings from buntings and signs dangle in such a way that Han would be able to reach just about any shelf he wished. Some shelves look to have mini rope ladders, and there seems to be plenty of places to hide and watch customers, or your Noona.

He quickly climbs up one of the rope ladders where he can get a better view of the sales counter. Jules is there finishing serving a customer. But where is the man?

Han doesn’t have to wait for long. The man emerges from a back storeroom with a gift bag for the customer.

“Oh Minho! You’re back in town!” The customer exclaims in a high pitch voice. “How was your work trip?” She gives this Minho a kiss on the cheek.

“Adventurous as usual.” He winks at her.

“Well it’s good to see you.” She takes her flowers and gift bag, smiling as she leaves the shop.

“Take care Mrs Maple!” Minho waves after her then turns to Jules. “Finally, I’ve got you alone, kitten.” He smirks and closes the gap between them. “Maybe we could close up for lunch? Head back into the storeroom?” He kisses her neck.

“You’re always so horny, Minho.” She teases. “Don’t think I don’t know you masturbate behind the flower pot while I work.”

Wait! What? Han’s eyes almost pop out of his head and he stumbles knocking an ornamental garden gnome off the shelf.

Jules and Minho’s eyes land on the smashed gnome. Then they lift their gaze, eyes landing straight on Han.

Fuck! He freezes to the spot.

The pair look confused and make their way over to where Han is standing pretending to be gnome himself, and crouch down so they are eye level with him.

“It’s the customer from the other day.” Jules remarks. “He didn’t have any money.” She adds.

Han crosses his arm and pouts.

“He’s the one I told you about. The one that saw me on the shelf.” Minho adds.

“Excuse me?” Han interrupts. “I was hoping you could help me. You see, I live across the street with my Noona. She was the woman I was with when I came in the other day. And…anyway… I sit in the window sill and watch the flower shop. Not in a creepy way.” He is sure to add. “And I’ve seen him…Minho, or whatever your name is,” he points to the man “a few times… Then when I came in, he… he was small.”

“And you were big.” Minhos’s eyes glisten and he rubs his chin deviously. “And now you’re small!”

“Exactly! And I need to know… are you one of those miniature companions like me? And if so, why do you keep getting big? And… and is it the same for all of us? Is it different depending on the batch? Do some of us get big and others don’t?” Han’s out of breath by the time he’s finished.

“What’s your name?” Jules asks kindly.

“Han.” He replies and plops down, crossing his legs.

“Han?” She repeats thoughtfully.

“Do you recognise the name, babe?” Minho enquires.

Jules nods. “Yes. I believe he was also part of the range I purchased you from. The Skz range. I don’t think he was ready yet. How long have you been with your owner?”

“Just on a year.” He replies.

Jules and Minho exchange looks, then turn back to Han.

“Well, Han, buddy,” he says. “I think we might be able to answer your questions.”

—-----------

Eventually, after tearing your house apart in the hopes to find Han and failing, you flop yourself on your couch feeling empty and numb. You don’t even notice that your doorbell is ringing, but then a loud knock on the door makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“Yeah okay, I’m coming!” You call out as you head downstairs. With a sigh, you open the front door to find the woman who owns the flower shop across the street, and a man who you’ve seen a few times around the place, standing there. The woman holds a basket in her hands, and the man holds an amused look on his face.

Great. You’re not in the mood for interaction.

The woman’s eyes widen when she sees your tear streaked face.

“Uh, sorry to bother you. I’m Jules. From the flower shop across the street.” She smiles awkwardly. “And this is my, um, partner, Minho.” She gestures to the man next to her.

You continue to stand there, saying nothing.

Jules coughs, clearing her throat. “We’ve brought your Hannie home.” She declares.

“Noona!” Han’s head pops out of the basket.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth. “Why do you have my Han?” You choke. Your eyes dart from Jules to Minho, confused and scared. Han is supposed to be a secret. You can’t have outsiders knowing about him.

“I went to them, Noona. They have something to tell you! Can’t you let us inside already?” He whines.

A whining Han is a good sign. You nod and usher them inside.

————-

You’re back on your couch, this time with Jules and Minho on the couch across from you, and your little Hannie on the cushion next to you. You’re relieved he’s back, but also so mad at his reckless behavior. He could’ve gotten himself killed. He and Minho are enjoying a piece of cheesecake, like this is some normal afternoon gathering of friends.

“So you have something to tell me?” You say looking to Jules.

“We do. You see, Han came to us because he saw my miniature companion in the flower shop the day you both came in.” She starts.

Your eyes widen. “You know about them? You’ve got one?”

Jules nods. “Yes. Minho here is my companion.”

“Hi.” He waves.

“He’s your companion?” You arch an eyebrow.

“Yes, he’s got his monthly grown up pants on at the moment, but most of the time he’s small like Han.” She nods her head towards Han.

You shake your head in disbelief. “One minute Han is doll sized, then suddenly out of nowhere he’s big.”

“She really didn’t read the manual, hey Han?” Minho chuckles.

“Then I find out there’s another tiny man running around across the street?” You continue, ignoring Minho’s remark.

“Hey, I’m far from tiny!” Minho turns to you with a deadly glare.

“Calm down sweetie.” Jules pats his thigh. “He’s not really cold and cynical.” She reassures you.

“He’s cocky isn’t he?” You say lightheartedly to Jules but your eyes are firmly on Minho. “You know you were able to read their traits on the website and select accordingly?” You say jokingly.

“That’s why she chose me. For my cock-iness.” Minho leans back into the couch.

“He was the only one who was cat friendly. I have three cats, you see.” Jules playfully punches Minho in the arm.

“Hah! You love my cock-y personality.”

“I do.” Jules admits and leans against him.

The pair are fascinating, but you need to know more. “What did you mean by monthly grown up pants?” You ask.

“Once a month I grow into the size of a human for two days.” Minho shares. “It’s a fault in the Skz manufacturing process.”

“You didn’t receive the recall email from the company?” Jules turns back to you surprised.

You shake your head.

“There was a form in the back of...the manual...that you could send in so you’d receive any important information. Like recalls and such.”

“Noona only read up to the part where it says I can ejaculate.” Han pipes up, his mouth full of food.

“Hannie! Don’t, you’re embarrassing me. Sorry, he hasn’t been socialized.” You say bashfully.

“I think these two will become best friends.” Jules laughs looking at the two men. “Han did say this whole human size situation came as a surprise to you both.”

“I feel so stupid. I didn’t read the whole manual. I’m such an irresponsible companion owner.”

“There was a recall on the Skz range because they were only supposed to grow big the once, not once every month. Purchasers were given the option to return the companion if they chose.”

“And she chose to keep me.” Minho adds.

“Would you have sent me back, Noona? If you’d known about the recall?” Han looks up at you with his boba eyes.

“Of course not. I love you. I just wish I’d known all this so we could have been prepared. Looked forward to it, even.”

“It’s okay, Noona. I think it has worked out for the best this way.” He looks at each of you. “I’ve finally got friends!” He says gleefully.

Jules and Minho leave shortly after, to have some alone time before his “grown up pants become too big”.

Han is exhausted from his adventure, and just wants to snuggle up on your chest and watch anime. Neither of you say much. There's no point in being angry at him for venturing out alone, and you're just happy to have him back in one piece.

Neither of you are really watching the anime either. Instead you're both smiling inwardly, imagining what life is going to look like from now on.

—————-

A little update on our y/n and Hannie:

Over the next year, Han and Minho have become inseparable, spending almost as much time with each other as they do with you and Jules.

You’ve introduced Han to your family. He was so nervous at first, but once he realized they approved of him, he was okay.

He learned to play guitar, and even commissioned a guitar maker to make a scaled down working model of an acoustic guitar so he can play whenever he feels like it.

------------

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @starr-lvst @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @newhope8 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @yaorzu-blog @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @everythingboutkpop @jiminssluttyminx @felixleftchickennugget @minho4cat

#han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #sorshas fic #skz fic

90 notes · View notes

flightlessangelwings · 15 days ago

Text

FawKtober2024 Part 9- Frank Castle

Vampire!Frank Castle x fem!reader

Kinks- monster au (vampire), biting

Word count- 1.5k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), vampire!Frank au, biting, blood, wall sex, Frank lifts reader, harassment, protective Frank, no physical description of reader other than body parts, no use of y/n

Notes- Happy Halloween! I've been wanting to write a vampire Frank Castle for a while and this was a perfect opportunity! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs!

Darkness engulfed you as you made your way down the street. It was late, and you knew you should be out all alone. But you weren’t scared… at least too scared. You knew that if something were to happen that he would come for you. It was him you were looking for anyway…

“Hey there sweet girl,” a slimy voice said from behind you as a shadowy figure appeared right over your shoulder, “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“I’m not alone,” you spun around to face him, only to find he moved in a flash to be behind you again.

“You sure look alone,” his voice sent a chill up your spine as he pinned you against the brick wall of the alley.

“Let me go!” you fought back, struggling as best you could against the supernatural strength that held you.

“You smell too good to let go,” he grinned darkly as fangs descended and his mouth opened wide.

Just as quickly as you found yourself pinned and trapped, you found yourself free as another figure stood in front of you. Your assailant was thrown to the ground on the other side of the street, and suddenly he wasn’t so intimidating anymore.

“The lady said to let her go,” a familiar voice boomed, the anger palpable even to you, “Now get the fuck out of here before I tear the skin off your fucking bones.”

You breathed a sigh of relief as you knew the voice of your savior. He stepped closer to the man who held you, continuing to hurl insults and threats to the man, who now cowered in fear. The man mumbled something you couldn’t hear before he took off in a flash, and your savior stayed still for a moment to make sure he was gone before he turned to you.

“Baby? You alright?” Frank asked, his tone softer as he held your face and looked you over.

“I’m ok,” your voice sounded distant as you took in the look of concern in his eyes, “Thank you, Frank.”

He smiled, a genuine smile that he only reserved for you. But his face turned serious, “Baby you can’t be out here all by yourself. What are you doing here anyway?”

A smirk lit up your face, “Looking for you.”

“Fuck… Frank…” you moaned as you found yourself pinned against the wall once more. But this time it was different.

This time, Frank had you up against the wall in his home, and you were there willingly. He grinded his hips against yours as he kissed you deeply, tasting and savoring you. Your body was so warm against his cold one, and it ignited something within him that he fought to keep down. There was something about you that Frank couldn’t deny, and it made his heart feel like it beat again for the first time in a long time.

“Baby…” he murmured against you as his hands roamed all over your body.

You moaned as you arched your back into his touch. You clawed at his shirt, desperate to tug it off, to which he happily obliged. Frank smirked at you as you drank in the sight of him without a shirt as if it was your first time. Turning mischievous, Frank used his vampire powers to strip you of your clothes in a flash, something that always caught you off guard and made you laugh at the same time.

“Frank!” you squealed in surprise, “Shit!”

He joined in your laughter as he used his supernatural powers once more and lifted you up to pin you against the wall again. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he murmured before he kissed you again.

Moaning into his mouth, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and your legs around his waist, “Frank…” you whimpered as the need within you grew, “Fuck me, please…”

“With pleasure, baby,” Frank groaned as he leaned against your body to keep you in place as he slipped a hand down to unzip his jeans.

You whimpered as you felt his cold cock pop out from his pants and rub against your pussy, “Frank…”

“I know baby,” he growled as the need grew in him too, “I need you too,” a low rumble emitted from deep in his throat as the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, your warmth already engulfing him, “Fuck…”

A scream from deep in your throat filled the room as Frank pushed into you. His groan echoed with yours as his eyes rolled back into his head from entering you.

“Fuck, baby,” Frank growled as his forehead rested against yours, “You ok?”

“Move,” you huffed as you adjusted to his thickness and the coldness of his cock. It was unlike anything else you had ever felt before, and you craved it unlike anything else, “Frank…”

He groaned as he thrust forward again, making you cry out in pleasure. Frank murmured a string of curses under his breath with every thrust of his hips. “Fuck you feel so fucking good,” he sighed.

“Frank… You too,” you moaned as you dug your nails into his cold shoulders.Sex with a vampire was like nothing else you had ever experienced before, especially this one. Another thrust of his hips diving his cock deeper inside you made you scream louder, and you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Bite me,” you whispered in his ear.

Frank’s fangs shot out the moment the words left your lips. He growled as primal instincts took over and he hovered his teeth over your neck. Against his lips, Frank felt the warmth of your skin and the pulse of your blood. It called to him louder than anything ever had before. But, he stopped himself before his teeth made contact with your skin.

“Are you sure, baby?” he asked, his whole body straining as he fought to hold himself back.

“Yes,” you breathed instantly, your voice completely sure.

As soon as he got confirmation, Frank sunk his teeth into your neck, your warm blood spilling into his mouth. You screamed and gripped him tighter, both with your hands and your pussy as the sharp pain flowed through you. But it was a welcome pain, and you trusted Frank. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as he drank from you. Blood dripped down your body, smearing both your and his skin along the way.

Frank growled as he thrust into you again, rocking in and out in a fast, harsh pace as your blood filled his mouth. The taste of you was sweeter than anything Frank had ever tasted before, and it was almost intoxicating. And the way you screamed and held him only made it more meaningful to him.

“Fuck! Frank… I’m gonna…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before your whole body trembled as you came hard against his body. His cock hit your sweet spot over and over again as your blood filled him, and the loss only made your head spin more.

He groaned into your skin as his own head became a whirlwind. The feeling of your climax against his body was overwhelming, even for a vampire like Frank, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Breaking away from your skin, he moaned your name as his own climax came over him. He held you closely as he rutted against you, riding out both of your orgasms.

With one final grunt, Frank pulled out of you, keeping his arms around you to keep you close. You whimpered at the loss, and you breathed heavily from how tired and dizzy you felt. Almost limp in his arms, you hummed contently as you rested against his shoulder as he carried you over to his bed.

“I got you, baby,” Frank murmured in your ear.

Gently, he set you down on your back. You kept your eyes closed as you settled into the comfortable black sheets. Frank stayed hovered over you for a moment, looking you over to make sure he didn’t hurt you. His eyes narrowed as he eyed the bite marks on your neck.

“Let me take care of that for you, baby,” Frank said as he was about to use his own blood to cover the bite marks he left.

“No,” you grabbed his wrist before he could as your eyes shot open. When Frank looked at you with questioning eyes, you added, “I like it,” you admitted.

He dropped his head as a smile graced his face, his vampire fangs still visible between his lips, “Alright, baby.”

“Hold me?” you asked as you gave him your best pout, knowing how well it worked on him.

“Always, baby,” Frank lowered himself down and gathered you in his arms, holding you close and safe. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep in his arms, safe and secure and right where you wanted to be. Frank stayed up for some time, listening to your heartbeat. “I promise I’ll never let anyone or anything hurt you, baby,” he whispered in your ear. And it was a promise he would always keep.

58 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 5 months ago

Note

👀👀👀 (I’m not sorry at all jsyk)

I KNEW YOU'D SEND THE FUCKING FOOT GIF!!!🤣🤣🤣 I love you @treedaddymcpuffpuff !!!😘😘😘😘

Peep Toe Pumps - Kevin Lomax x fem!Reader

warnings: nsfw, foot fetish? fire divider by X

"You have pretty feet."

It's the first truly personal thing your new boss, Kevin Lomax, [Esq.] , says to you after months of working for Milton & Lomax. Maybe it wasn't entirely professional, wearing open-toed heels to the office, but it had been a looong winter in New York, and the first nice day of spring you couldn't resist.

He couldn't either, apparently.

You should have been suspicious, when he breezed into your cubicle and threw down a thick stack of papers, totally out of order, and said you were going to have to stay late to sort it all out. He was the boss, and it wasn't like your collection of houseplants were going to miss you...

And be real. One searing look from those burning dark eyes mixed with that sugar-sweet southern accent, and you would have done The Little Teapot dance on your desk in front of everyone if he asked you to. That man just has a magnetism. It's almost supernatural, the way he can sway people.

You guess that’s why he makes The Big Bucks.

It's late and the office is practically deserted, by the time you've finished collating the mishmash of the court file. How had that even happened? Almost like someone dropped all the papers on the floor and deliberately mixed them together badly. And maybe, maybe you feel the slightest trill of alarm, as you realize how alone you are on the floor, making your way past all the empty cubicles. But you push it away, down down down with all your other little intuitions about this place, because you don't really have a choice. This city is expensive, and you are not going home.

You knock on his office door, and receive a muffled invitation to come in. "Here you are, sir," you say, resting the tome-like stack upon his behemoth of a walnut desk. He's sitting by the window in his shirt sleeves, black suspenders stark against his white button up, cuffs rolled up over powerful forearms. Though you know he’s a widower, he still wears his wedding ring. You don't know why the sight seems almost intimate to you.

It's late, and you are tired.

"Thank you, y/n." You nod, and make to go. "Want a drink?" The offer makes you freeze in your tracks. It's not something the partners usually extend to a lowly secretary like you. But as he lifts his drink your way, swirls an amber liquid with ice cubes clinking in his cut-crystal glass--he is the very embodiment of temptation. You don't even really like hard spirits, don't know how you'll drink it without making a ridiculous face in front of your boss, but still you find yourself nodding slowly, almost as though you don't have control of yourself.

He smiles at you, knowing, but not unkind.

It must just be the reflection off his wire rimmed glasses, but for a moment, it’s almost as though his dark eyes glow.

He gets you the drink himself, waves for you to sit down across from him. You have to admit you are happy to get off your feet. You take a small sip, and do your level best not to grimace.

“Good?” he asks, and you can tell he is laughing behind his own glass.

“I don’t know,” you decide to answer, setting your tumbler down with a sigh. You take a moment to look out the window, the lights of Manhattan like your own galaxy twinkling below. “Quite a view you have up here.” You don’t get to see the lights like this, on your ground floor in Brooklyn.

“It’s breathtaking,” he agrees, and your heart does a little dance in your chest, when out the corner of your eye you realize he is looking at you.

You shouldn’t be here, that little voice in the back of your head whispers. You know it’s right, but you just can’t convince yourself to get up and go.

You are used to men staring at you in this city. Men will be men. But usually they’re looking at your breasts, or sometimes your mouth. Your legs, even, what they can make out protruding from your knee-length business skirts on the subway.

This is the first time you have ever noticed a man blatantly, lustfully, staring at your feet.

“Those hurt?” he asks, pointing at your heels with his chin. You cannot help but think he resembles a king in his court, sprawled in the comfortable leather chair across from you. It’s the most at ease you’ve ever seen him.

You laugh a little nervously, not entirely sure what you’re getting into here. “Only since about 4:30,” you admit, which would have been the point you would have changed into your Nikes for the slog home, on a normal day.

“Poor thing,” he laments in that cloyingly sweet drawl. God. Before you started working here, you thought men who sounded like that toted shotguns in denim overalls and hunted gators. How your perceptions have changed. “Give ‘em here.” Those long fingers make a ‘come hither’ gesture from his knee–and you think you might expire.

“Sir?”

He smirks at you, a sparkle in his dark eyes that utterly steals your breath away. “Or not. Never met a woman who didn’t like a foot rub after a long day, but maybe you’re the first.”

Lomax makes you feel silly, when he says it like that. Like you’re the odd duck, balking at your boss touching your feet. Or–embarassed by how very much you would like for him to. You start to reach for the buckle at your ankle, but he leans closer, eager. “Allow me.”

That is how your foot ended up in his beautiful, strong hands. How he almost ceremoniously propped your shoe on his lap, on trousers that probably cost a month’s pay for you, so deftly undoing the little buckle by your ankle with clever fingers and sliding your foot free.

It does feel heavenly, if you’re being honest, and the corner of his mouth ticks just a notch as a sound escapes you when he squeezes the ball of your foot. “Like that, sweetheart?”

“Too much, maybe,” you admit with a shaky little laugh.

What in the ever loving FUCK do you think you are you doing?!

He traces the curve of your ankle bone with the blade of his thumb, and your eyes slide closed as though he touched you somewhere very different, your painted toes curling in his lap. This is magic, if you’re being honest, and you’re not sure you realized how much you miss being touched until this very damning moment, alone after hours with your very hot boss.

“No such thing,” he insists with that little smile that you’re sure has enticed multitudes of people to sign their lives away on the dotted line. “You’ve been working hard. You deserve a treat.”

That’s when your eyes flick down. You just can’t help it. And you see the bulge at his crotch, his burgeoning erection straining against the fabric of his pants. A spear of lust splits you down the middle, like a lightning strike to your loins–and you know this is very, very, wrong.

Oh. God.

“Sir–”

As though he senses your sudden need to bolt up and flee he leans towards you–without thinking, you plant your foot right on his chest, preventing him. A beat later you are horrified by your action, but you get zero time to dwell on it. With a wicked smile that melts your panties he takes your foot in his big hand–and brings it to his mouth.

Your toe disappears between his luscious, kissable lips, his tongue tickling the bottom of your foot, and you discover you really might die of wanting. The strangled sound you make as his tongue explores between your toes is pure desire, and you know you are a ridiculous thing but your throbbing clit demands more and don’t stop.

His lips trail up your instep, the line of your calf–is it just the light, or do his teeth suddenly seem sharp, somehow? You blink and he is on his knees before you, pushing up your skirt so his trim torso can wedge between your legs, his big hands on your thighs beneath the fabric. It takes you a moment to realize that little scream came from you.

He looks you in the eye, as though he can see to the very depths of your soul, his pink mouth pulled in a smirk. He’s laughing at you, sure, but he still doesn’t seem cruel about it. That counts for something, somehow.

“You want me to stop, Miss Y/n?”

Your hands are on his broad shoulders, your nails digging into the webbed fabric of his suspenders, your breath a quick and elusive thing in your chest like the fluttering of birds. He is the very embodiment of temptation, and though you know you should say yes, you simply can’t. You shake your head no, and that smile widens slightly.

“I’d like to hear you say it aloud. An oral agreement, as it were.”

He surely feels it, as you squirm beneath him just at hearing the word.

“No, Sir.”

You can tell that you please him, and that should not make you feel so accomplished, so right, so liberated.

“That’s my good girl.”

Hearing that should not fill you with a searing heat that settles between your legs, warm and wet and so wanting.

And that is how your boss debauched you, how he kissed you silly and ate you out in that fine leather chair, before carrying you to the desk for proper fucking. That is how he ended up inside you, you still only wearing one shoe, your legs wrapped around his waist as he railed you on top of all his important papers. You flail for something to hold on to, knocking the file you so painstakingly stayed late to organize, the pages scattering across the floor.

“Oh no,” he pouts through a devilish grin, filling you with his thick cock until his tip kisses your cervix. “Looks like you have to stay even later now.”

“Fuck,” you moan, but it has nothing to do with your impending workload, and everything to do with the way he’s rearranging your insides, stuffing you full with that beautiful dick while his thumb flicks your clit. “You are. A devil,” you pant, so close to climax, the pleasure building and clawing in your pent-up loins. You would do anything, anything, for just a little more, right there.

“No, just his son,” he answers through another sharp toothed grin.

“What?” You’re not sure you heard him, over the sound of your desperate moans, your heartbeat deafening in your ears.

“Nothing, baby girl. You cumming with me?”

“Yes sir.”

He laughs, a wonderful, almost boyish sound, before his teeth sink into your shoulder and his hips lock against yours, spilling himself inside you as your needy little cunt flutters around his dick, milking him with the tremors of your pleasure. Utterly spent, wrung out, and more than a little ashamed, you collapse back on the desk. Still inside you, he brings your foot to his mouth again, kissing it lovingly with that wicked glint in his eye.

“Wear those little peep-toes anytime, beautiful,” he teases you, his accent thick and sweet as molasses. Yet somehow–you sense he’s serious.

Jesus fucking christ.

You’re going to have to go shoe shopping.

#kevin lomax x reader #kevin lomax x you #kevin lomax #the devils advocate #keanu reeves #keanuverse fic #tried to make it a drabble #think its more a one shot tho lol #i lurve u hannah!!!!!!!!

100 notes · View notes

waywardxwords · 1 year ago

Text

Witches

Summary: While hunting a witch, you accidentally stumble upon her collection of sex pollen.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~4.2k

Warnings: DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18; THIS CONTENT IS RATED M FOR MATURE Swearing, Supernatural-y things (witches), sex pollen trope, smut (p in v, f masturbation), fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing Dean smut and also my first time using the whole sex pollen trope. But this was fun, and I enjoyed writing it. If you’re feeling up to it, please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

There wasn’t anything you hated more in this supernatural world than witches. They were ruthless, conniving and downright batshit crazy. But alas, if you and your hunting buddies didn’t hunt them, then no one would. They would continue wreaking havoc on anyone they wanted, and you couldn’t have that.

So now you found yourself in the living room of a woman you had suspected spent her free time doing witchy things. You had no idea what you were looking for–bones, spell books, weird herbs or plants; the options were literally endless.

All you knew: people in this town all connected to this woman were ending up in rather interesting predicaments and you were determined to find out why.

“Don’t touch anything that looks suspicious,” Dean’s voice came through the other line as you used one hand to press your phone to your ear. “I really wish you would’ve waited for me. We should’ve gone in together.”

“Yeah, well, there’s no time for that,” you muttered as you searched. There were a bunch of old books, but none of them screamed hocus pocus to you. You fumbled with a tiny wooden trinket box that had intricate lines and details on the outside. As you lifted the lid, you saw it contained some kind of yellowish-green powder. “This is interesting…” your voice trailed off as you brought the box closer to investigate. With your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear, you lifted the box.

“I’m serious, do not touch anything. You listenin’ to me?” You rolled your eyes at his voice.

“I’m not touching anything, Dean. Cool it,” you mumbled as you examined the substance. Within a moment, your nose suddenly felt tingly and itchy. It started before you could stop it—sneeze. A cloud of the yellowish-green powder encircled your face and created a haze. Your eyes immediately felt watery. The phone fell from your ear as you hurried to place the box back down on the table and brushed your face with your hands. As you pulled your hands away, you saw dusty yellowish-green hues. You missed Dean calling your name through the phone, but he didn’t miss the words that fell from your lips in the background. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” You breathed as you plucked the phone from the hardwood floor and brought it back to your ear.

“What’s happening?” Dean’s voice was elevated and you heard the rev of the Impala’s engine in the background.

“Uh, Dean?” You watched the powder on the floor around you. “I accidentally touched it.”

“God dammit,” he groaned. “I’ll be right there.”

Dean had gotten to the witch’s house in minutes, which made you realize you probably should have waited for him and gone in together. But that didn’t matter anymore. You were waiting for symptoms to start–every little thing you felt made you wonder if it was caused by the mysterious substance.

“Talk to me, Sammy,” Dean answered the phone roughly as he sped to get back to the motel. He said it was the safest place to be in case something happened. Sam was on his own hunt, about four hours away. “It’s like a yellow color,” he described, as Sam probably asked what it looked like.

“Like pollen,” you murmured from the passenger seat. Suddenly, you felt warmth in the pit of your stomach. It was an odd feeling, almost like you had just consumed a warm cup of tea or hot soup.

“Yeah, like pollen,” Dean repeated into the phone. The warmth wasn’t going away, it was only getting hotter. So hot, you felt the need to pull off your leather jacket even though the cool autumn air nipped at your skin. Dean did a double take from the road to you, and back again. “What are you doing?” He pulled the phone slightly away from his mouth.

“I’m getting really hot, Dean,” you mumbled, worry crept through your words. You didn’t get worried often—or show it, at least—but these damn witches…all bets were off.

“She says she’s getting hot,” Dean relayed over the phone before pulling it away and hitting the ‘Speaker’ button.

“Uh, okay…so she sneezed into a box of pollen and now she feels hot?” Sam was typing as he spoke.

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean confirmed as he turned into the parking lot of the motel. By now, your skin was on fire. The heat had spread from just the pit of your stomach to your chest, your arms, your face, and…other places you preferred not to mention.

“I’m on fire,” you mumbled as tears stung your eyes. As soon as the car was in park, you had the front passenger door open and moved to be outside of the Impala. The cold air felt glorious on your skin, but the fear kept your feet moving.

“She’s burning up, Sammy. You got anything? Anything at all?” The worry was present in Dean’s voice, as well, though you barely noticed over the waves of heat coursing through you.

Once the two of you got into your shared motel room, you beelined for the bathroom. Your fingers wrapped around the edges of the porcelain sink and you closed your eyes. The coolness from the surface of the sink calmed your shakes, even if just for a moment.

“A what pollen?” Dean asked into the phone, as if he couldn’t have heard Sam correctly. After a pause, he continued. “You gotta be kidding me.” He breathed, but didn’t hesitate to get his mind back in the game. “Okay, walk me through it.”

Dean’s tone should have made you nervous, but all you could focus on was the way your heart nearly vibrated in your chest. There was a heat blazing so hot in your center, that you realized at that moment it had created a slickness in your underwear. Your nipples were so hard, they ached against the soft cotton fabric of your bra.

You glanced up to look in the mirror for the first time. That’s when you noticed the heat had risen and created patches of redness up your chest and into your cheeks. Your breathing was labored, almost, and you realized it was as if you had just had…

“Okay, hear me out,” Dean grumbled as he tossed his cell phone onto his bed and ran his hand over his mouth as he tried to find the right words. “You’re not gonna like this…but it’s called sex pollen.” He cleared his voice before he said it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your chest rose and fell with each breath, you eyed him carefully but that made you feel even hotter. The warmth was overwhelming, so you fanned yourself with one of your hands.

“I know, I know,” he held his hands up as if he were just the messenger. “It’s a spell. It makes you wanna get it on, Marvin Gaye style.” He couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips. You rolled your eyes and threw the hand towel at his face, missing slightly. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Get it together,” you huffed. “So how do I break it?”

Dean gnawed at the inside of his lip, which was something you hadn’t seen him do before—or noticed, anyway. God, you couldn’t look away from his mouth. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you thought you might crumble. Your fingers reached out quickly to grip the doorway of the bathroom.

“From what Sam has read,” he paused as he nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. “You gotta…do it.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Do it?” You repeated. “Can you be a grown-up for five seconds, please?”

“Sex, darlin’,” he closed his eyes and said it hurriedly. “You gotta have sex.”

All of the color drained from your face. Even though you knew that was what he meant, it was still a lot to take in (no pun intended). You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to force your brain to work, but all of the blood seemed to be rerouted to other parts of your body.

The feelings that ran over you made you realize you were feeling extreme sensations of being turned on. This went far above any other time you had felt this way—thinking about it almost made it worse.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. When you peeled back your eyelids, you were met with his green gaze. You had never seen his eyes so green before—and in the hue of the motel bedside lamps, you spotted speckles of gold and brown. You had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were before.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered over the word. “So what now? Just try to let it pass?”

Dean cleared his throat and broke away from your stare, his tongue darted out over his bottom lip again. God dammit, if he doesn’t put that tongue away… You tried not to squirm standing there in your jeans and a tank top. “Uh, actually, Sammy said if you don’t…take care of it,” he waved his hand in front of himself in a circular motion. “It uh, it can be fatal.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” You blinked once, then twice.

“Yeah, uh, you gotta take care of it,” he brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck again. You noticed the way his bicep flexed and tugged at the flannel that covered his arm. The heat in your parties made you think they may actually catch on fire.

“Fuck, Dean,” you groaned and turned to move. The only thing that seemed to bring you any kind of relief was pacing. The friction your jeans caused between your legs was incredible. “What if…” you hesitated as you processed. “What if I try to ‘take care of it’ myself?” You used air quotes and looked back at him.

He seemed to process for a second. “I mean, maybe? I don’t have any idea…” the tension in the room was so awkward. But the more time that passed, the harder it was for you to look at Dean and try to not jump his bones.

“Okay, go to the bathroom…do not come out, you hear me?” You instructed firmly. Dean grabbed his phone and nodded.

“I’ll text Sammy and see if he’s found anything else,” he mumbled and hurried to the bathroom before he closed the door. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw him blush—and Dean Winchester never blushed.

By the time you heard the door click closed, your fingers worked the button on your jeans. As soon as the clasp was freed, you shimmied them down your thighs and kicked them off to the side. You decided to leave your underwear and tank top on, fully aware of the man just on the other side of the bathroom door.

As you dropped down on the bed and sat up against the headboard, your knees parted automatically. The heat that escaped between your legs was so intense that the cool air made you gasp. You closed your eyes as your hand snuck under the band of your black panties. The only thing you could see was Dean…his chiseled jaw, the way it tightened when he was mad, or frustrated or deep in thought; the rough stubble scattered across his lower face and chin; the way his eyes bore into you every time he looked your way. These weren’t new feelings, just feelings you had been able to avoid for so long. Now that the sex pollen had taken over, all bets were off.

Your index finger circled your clit. You tried to be quiet, truly. This situation was awkward enough and you knew the doors in this motel were practically cardboard and didn’t contain the sound. But the moans still fell from your lips hastily. You couldn’t stop them once you started. You dipped your fingers down and couldn’t believe the wetness there; the feeling was overwhelming. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut once more, envisioning the god of a man on the other side of the door. And then it happened. “Ugh, Dean,” his name rolled off of your lips dripped in absolute bliss.

“Uh, you okay in there, sweetheart?” Fuck. He had heard it. The blush rising even stronger in your cheeks literally burned your face. Tears you hadn’t realized had pooled in your eyes blurred your vision.

“God dammit,” you groaned. No matter how hard you tried, you knew this wasn’t working. “I’m uh, I’m fine, Dean.” You hoped it would be enough to appease him.

“Listen, uh, Sammy just wrote me back. He said it’s not gonna work…you, uh, taking care of it yourself,” he cleared his throat twice. Oh awesome, you thought to yourself. Both of the Winchesters know I’m trying to masturbate this spell away… You knew what that meant. Before your brain could process, you heard him again. “You decent? I’m comin’ in.”

You practically squealed and clawed at the comforter to cover yourself. The door to the bathroom creaked open and Dean hesitantly peered around it. By the time he made it into the room, you were mostly covered but your right leg had slipped out under the comforter and Dean caught a glimpse of skin from your foot all the way up to where your underwear sat above your hip.

Your eyes connected and you noticed his jaw tightened. But this time, it wasn’t because he was mad or frustrated…maybe in deep thought, but something felt different; something felt darker than that.

“It’s not working,” you murmured, your chest still heaved with each heavy breath you took. Your fingers gripped the comforter so tightly at your chest, your knuckles were white.

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice somehow sounded deeper than it had moments before. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, or maybe it was the sex pollen. But either way, it made your body tremble.

You followed Dean’s gaze to your leg—he absolutely saw the tremble.

“Listen, I don’t want to make this weird,” he rubbed a hand down his face again. The way his mouth dropped open made the heat rise even more. “But you can’t fix this by yourself.” You knew he was hesitating; hesitating to take it further. You wondered if it was because he didn’t want it, maybe he didn’t want you.

“Help me fix this,” the tears blurred at your eyes again. “Dean, I’m begging you. Everything is on fire. My body literally feels like I’m going to combust.” You hated that your voice cracked, but you were truly starting to freak out. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t wanna do…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean nervously chuckled as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t want you to do something just because you have to…” his voice trailed off as his eyes studied you. Realization set in that Dean wasn’t able to hide his attraction or interest in that moment. His jeans had tightened quite a bit in his groin, revealing a bulge that made you practically pant.

“I need you, Dean. But I also want you,” you practically drooled at this point. “I want you so, so bad.”

Dean’s hands moved to unbutton the buttons to his flannel quickly—you scrambled out from underneath the comforter to where he stood at the end of the bed on your knees to help him with the rest. You gave up after the second button and pulled the two sides harshly apart, sending buttons flying to bounce onto the multicolored carpet below.

“Christ,” he breathed as he moved to undo the metal button on his jeans. Instantly, his hands cupped your cheeks. He paused for only a moment. After one more look into your eyes to make sure this was okay, you met in the middle as your lips crashed against one another.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” the words rolled off of your lips like it was nothing—but it was so much more than nothing. It was something you hadn’t meant to say, but the sex pollen haze made your filter dissipate. Your lips pulled apart with a pop and your eyes found his.

“God, me too,” he almost growled as he toppled you back onto the bed once more. Dean was on top of you, your legs parted automatically. He held himself up with one arm and kissed you in a way you had never been kissed before.

“Dean, I need you to touch me. Please,” the need in your voice was mixed with begging at this point. “Everything is on fire.”

“I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” his words drawled together, intoxicated with lust. The hand that wasn’t supporting his body weight trailed down your side. He pulled back and sat on his knees, pulling you with him so you were sitting up. His fingers grasped the hem of your tank top and pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion. He reached behind you and masterfully unclasped your black bra. As soon as it fell away, the cool air from the room bit at your already hardened nipples, causing you to hiss out loud.

Just as quickly as he pulled you up, he pushed you gently back to the bed on your back as he settled between your legs once more.

“You’re so god damn beautiful,” he murmured as his lips connected with your neck. He planted hasty wet kisses from just below your ear lobe, down your collarbone to the top of your breasts.

“Dean,” your hips writhed against him. You needed more.

“I know, baby,” he breathed as his hand finally began to trace down your side, his fingertips left goosebumps on their way until they reached your hip bone. He pulled the material of your underwear until they slid off of your hips. He pulled until they were down near your feet where you could kick them off.

His fingertips trailed to your center and circled your clit just as you had done moments before. His index finger slipped easily inside of you before he decided to add his middle finger to the mix.

“Oh,” you breathed out, your head tilted backward so your neck was exposed. Dean took the opportunity happily, his lips sucked and kissed every inch of skin there as he pumped his fingers into you. “Dean, please.” You were doing a lot of begging, but you literally couldn’t help it. You felt like you would implode if he didn’t take you right then and there.

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he murmured against the flesh of your neck.

“I don’t really have time for patience,” you groaned. Dean pulled back for a moment, almost as if he had forgotten this was initiated from the sex pollen to begin with. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed your naked body, his jaw tightened. He quickly pulled off his flannel, within seconds his fingers pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. Next up was his jeans, and then his boxers.

Your body squirmed at the sight–he was stunning. Your eyes trailed down his biceps to his forearms–down his chest, to the delicious V and then…

Your breath got caught in the back of your throat, but before you could gasp for air, his lips were back on you again and you felt his hardness against your thigh. “I don’t have a condom…” he grumbled as his head dropped into the crook of your neck.

“Birth control, Dean,” you mumbled against his hair. His lips found yours again, moving against them as if his life depended on it–and, well, yours sort of did. He pulled back for a moment and found your eyes, as if he was asking if you were sure about this. You knew there was no going back at this point, so you raised your head to capture his lips in yours again. You pulled his bottom lip between your teeth gently, which elicited a moan from him.

And then in a second, you felt him enter you. It could have been the sex pollen, but you didn’t think so. The feeling was the most incredible sensation you had ever felt. The way your body fit against his was something you could have never imagined—even in the nights you had drifted off to sleep thinking about what this might feel like.

He moved slowly at first; too slowly to appease the effects of the damn sex pollen. Your hips rose to meet his and you wrapped your legs around his waist, linking your feet behind him at your ankles. He obliged, and angled his body in a way that you could feel absolutely every inch of him inside of you.

“God damn, you feel so good,” he groaned as he pressed his forehead to yours. You had never felt so close to someone in your entire life, and you prayed it wasn’t just another symptom of the pollen.

“You’re tellin’ me,” you moaned as he reached down with the arm that wasn’t supporting his weight and pulled your leg behind your knee so it rested in the crook of his elbow. “Jesus, Dean.” You bit down on your lower lip so hard you thought you tasted blood for a second. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered in that moment.

He rocked against you so hard, the headboard bounced off of the thin wall of the motel room—the picture that hung above you rattled. Nothing mattered.

Dean brought his lips hastily to your ear and kissed just below it before he whispered, “I want you to touch yourself, sweetheart. Let yourself go.” You shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath on your earlobe and the words he whispered huskily. You could hardly take it.

Your release had already started to build—which wasn’t too surprising, considering how turned on you were to begin with. You snaked your fingers down between your bodies, the feeling of his pelvis crashing against yours sent another wave of goosebumps over your skin.

You began to circle your clit with your fingertip as he secured your leg in the crook of his arm, his bicep flexed tightly. The sensation was overwhelming and you found yourself practically babbling moans and words strung together. “Fuck, Dean. Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” that elicited another chuckle from his lips but didn’t disrupt his movements as he plummeted into you. It felt like he was breaking through your cervix at this point.

“Let yourself go,” he could feel your muscles beginning to twitch around him. His words tossed you over the edge. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

That was it. You felt like your release was practically boiling as it shook you to your core. You saw flashes of color, and your ears were ringing. Dean moved through it for you as you rode the wave. You vaguely heard yourself yell out his name as everything crashed around you.

“You okay? You want me to stop?” He almost winced as his hips urged him to move but he wanted to respect the fact that the spell you were under had most likely dissipated now.

“Don’t stop,” you hurriedly told him as you rocked your hips against him once more. “Your turn.” You leaned up to connect your lips to a sweet spot on his neck, your tongue ran over his stubble and nipped gently which elicited a groan from the back of his throat.

“God damn,” he growled as his pace quickened again. Your muscles still twitched from your orgasm, you thought it might roll into a second wave—which would have been a first for you.

After a few more thrusts from Dean, he practically collapsed on your chest. Your fingertips found his back, coated in a thin layer of sweat. You dug your nails gently as you drew small smoothing circles upon his skin. After a moment, he rolled so he was on his back just beside you.

“That was magical,” your words practically slurred together as the room was filled with heavy breathing from both you and Dean—your chests rose and fell with each breath.

Dean’s eyes were sealed shut, but you saw the grin that pulled at his lips and he chuckled.

“You sure that’s not the sex pollen talkin’?” He drawled, his words etched together as well—a combination of exhaustion and post-sex effects.

You gently bit at your bottom lip and glanced at him from your side of the bed. His eyes were still shut lazily, a slick layer of sweat glistened in the dim light of the motel. Maybe it was still sex pollen remnants, maybe not—but something gave you a sense of courage you had never had before. You leaned over his body and inched towards his face. “Guess we’ll just have to let round two decide…”

His eyes shot open but his grin stretched wider so you could see his bright white smile. His gaze trailed from your eyes to your lips. Just before he leaned up to press his lips to yours, he said, “Guess we will, won’t we?”

And for the first time in your entire life—you were thankful for witches.

---------

A/N: Eek! I always get nervous posting ~smut~, but here we are! I love hearing what you think, so please don't be afraid to comment! Even if it's something I could work on for next time. Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @nelachu2423 @deans-spinster-witch @stillhere197

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester ff

401 notes · View notes

smellingofpoetry · 2 years ago

Text

Last Time?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: They promised each other it would be the last time.

Square/s Filled: “Age Difference” (@spnchristmasbingo), "Lingerie" (TMAS Bingo - @supernatural-jackles), "Dirty Talk" (@spnkinkevents), “Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.” (@anyfandomkinkbingo)

Warnings: age difference, smut, 18+, finger fucking, sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk

Rating: +18

Words count: 2460

A/N: Hi there! Not long ago I wrote a fic called “A few moments of madness” for the beautiful @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone. It was fun writing that one, especially the part where I left with that huge plot twist. I genuinely thought it was the end of the road for this story, though, until the inspiration hit me. And what was I supposed to do if not write it down? So, here we are today. I think I’m starting to figure out my way with smut, but I’ll let you judge that. Let me know what you think about it. Enjoy!

He was in big trouble.

Since his little accident with his best friend's daughter - if that's what you wanna call it - he tried to avoid Benny at all costs. He did a pretty good job if you asked him, until the Christmas holidays. He wasn't in the mood to celebrate since what happened with Lisa, and he definitely didn't want to spend Christmas under the pity glances his family would throw at him. Sunday's lunch was already too much for his own taste. So, he decided to spend Christmas alone for once. Maybe eating take-out on the couch just like a grown-up person would do. He had everything planned already until Benny asked him to join him for Christmas dinner.

Dean knew he should have ignored the bell ring - he knew it.

Either way, he agreed because it was Benny and because, of course, he felt guilty for what he did. So, now, he was stuck celebrating Christmas with his best friend and his daughter. Yes, the same girl he had fucked months ago, and he still jerked off at the thought of it, even though he would deny this last piece of information with all his strengths if anyone asked him.

Dean had a plan, though.

He had spent the prior night wide awake, planning his way through the whole Christmas dinner. It was a solid plan, and he was kinda proud of it. He just needed to stay away from Y/N and follow every step just like he had planned them.

What could possibly go wrong?

They were halfway through dinner and Dean was pretty sure he was going to hell. His plan, which was supposed to be solid, blow up in his face the moment he stepped inside his friend's house. He didn't even know how that happened, but here he was facing Y/N at the dinner table. He did his best to avoid her gaze and participate in the conversation, but if he had to be honest the only thing he could see was her bent down on his kitchen counter. Because of that he almost choked on his food on multiple occasions. Thank God his friend was too busy making sure everything was perfect for his daughter.

Yeah, his daughter…

Dean's thoughts trailed off again until he realized he was staring at her sweater a bit too much.

"Oh, crap, I forgot the beans."

Benny's voice caught his attention just in time to see his friend get up. Dean followed suit without thinking about it, too afraid to be left alone with Y/N.

"I'll go get them." he tried, earning a weird look from Benny.

"No, man, sit down. You're our guest. I'll be right back."

And with that Benny was already out of the room, leaving Dean with his napkin still in his hands, staring at the door. He cleared his throat, glancing at Y/N, who was watching him amused, before sitting down again.

"You're being weird," she told him while sipping her wine.

"No, I'm not." he scoffed, even though he knew she was absolutely right about it. Y/N raised one of her brows, watching him from the rim of her glass which earned an eye roll from Dean.

"Okay, fine, but in my defense, I just want you to know that when I came here, I had a solid plan to walk me through this..." he said, gesturing at them and the room they were in it.

"Oh, and how's going?" she asked amused, trying her very best to hide her smirk. Y/N figured she had done a poor job from the way Dean was looking at her - unimpressed.

"Clearly, it ain't working."

"Clearly," Y/N smirked, putting down the glass she was still holding.

Dean scowled at her, wanting to kiss that smirk out of her face. Wait, what? No. Absolutely, no. - he had to scold himself for thinking stuff like that about his friend's daughter, even if that same person was looking too damn cute for her own good.

"Okay, stop doing that."

"Stop what?" she asked with her brow raised in confusion.

"You know what! Never mind," he said, stubbing some of the vegetables on his plate with the fork. He didn't even like vegetables, for fuck’s sake. Y/N looked at him for a few seconds, glancing in the direction of the kitchen before leaning more toward Dean.

"Look, I know that we started on the wrong foot..."

"You can say that again." Dean scoffed, gulping down a generous amount of red wine.

"And I would like for Benny not to know about, you know..." she said, pointing at the two of them. "...us."

Dean sit up straight at that, putting down his glass and leaning more in her direction before speaking in a lower voice.

"He can never know about us," he said, panicked.

"So, could you, I don't know, act a bit more normal?"

Dean furrowed his brow, opening and closing his mouth a few times his mouth trying to find the right words.

"Yeah, right, right. I can do that," he assured her, even though he wasn't sure who he was really trying to convince, her or himself. She nodded her head with a small smile, satisfied by his answer.

"Great. And, oh, Dean, what happened between us..."

"...it can never happen again." he agreed, finishing her sentence.

Y/N was pressed against the wall, her Christmas sweater pulled up and her breast spilling out from her red bra. Her skirt was around her waist by now, while her panties were discarded somewhere on the floor. She could still picture Dean's face when he discovered the lingerie she was wearing under her Rudolph sweater.

Her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of Dean's cold fingers against her hot skin. Y/N felt them travel along the inside of her leg until he reached her aching pussy. He ran his fingertips along her slit way too gently, making her ache even more.

"Please..." she moaned, letting her hips sway back and forth in search of some friction.

"You want more, hm?"

Y/N nodded her head enthusiastically, trying to stifle a moan and failing miserably. Dean smirked, biting down on his lips. Yeah, hell was definitely waiting for him, and he couldn't care much.

"Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me, sweetheart," he whispered, taking away his hand from between her legs. Dean saw her open her mouth, sticking her tongue out for him and he had to restrain himself to not groan out loud. Damn, this woman - he thought while pushing three of his fingers inside her mouth. Y/N welcomed him without saying a word, sucking his fingers as if her life depended on it. Dean's free hand traveled down his pants, unbuttoning them to free his aching cock. He pushed them down just under his ass, taking down with them his boxer. His cock sprung free, tip red and precum already leaking. Y/N sucked at his fingers one more time before letting them free, licking her lips right after. Dean didn't even give her time to think about what was coming next and his three fingers found their way between her legs again. He circled her clit a few times before pushing inside her wet folds. He fingered her hard and fast, watching her take it thrust after thrust while taking hold of himself and giving a few strokes at his hard cock.

"Oh! God... Dean..." she whimpered, moving her hips against his hand while trying to hold herself somewhere, anywhere. She could already feel herself getting closer and closer, already tasting the pleasure when his fingers stopped, making her whine. Dean put his hands on her hips helping her move on her unsteady legs, positioning her in front of the bathroom mirror. He stayed behind her, watching her intently while his hands traveled along her body. He reached for her breasts, squeezing both of her tits in his hands and making her moan.

"You have to be quiet, now, Y/N. Can you do that for me, hm?" He asked her, licking the skin on her neck before latching his lips around her earlobe. She bit down on her lip, nodding her head at his question. Dean smiled with her earlobe still trapped between his teeth. He sucked at her skin one more time just for good measure before helping her lean forward.

"Bend down on the sink and spread your legs for me."

He didn't need to tell her twice. Y/N bent down, spreading her legs in the process. She felt exposed under Dean's gaze which made her even wetter than she already was. Dean bit on his lip, unable to take away his eyes from her glistening pussy. He took hold of himself, letting his cook brush against her folds a few times before lining himself at her entrance. He started to slowly push inside her, his eyes never leaving the mirror to watch her every single expression. Y/N closed her eyes, biting down on her lips to stifle the moans wanting to escape her. Dean let his fingers disappear between her hair, gripping a few of her strands and pulling them towards him. Y/N followed his movement arching her back and exposing her breasts even more.

"Open your eyes, babe. I want you to watch me fuck you," he whispered in her ear, feeling her shiver against him. She breathed heavily, taking a few seconds to regain control over her heart before opening her eyes just like he had asked her. The moment her eyes opened and looked at him through the mirror, Dean filled her with a deep thrust. Her whole body was pushed forward, and Y/N barely had the time to put one of her hands on the mirror to keep herself from crushing against it. She tried to follow every push of Dean's hips, matching his rhythm.

"Look at you, being fucked in your dad's bathroom by his friend." Dean panted in her ear, while still fucking her with a brutal pace. Y/N bit down on her lip harder, but she couldn't help the sound that came out of her at Dean's words. So, she put a hand around her mouth not trusting herself enough to be quiet, not when he was playing dirty. Dean smirked at her reaction, thrusting hard inside her while one of his hands went to her breast squeezing hard.

"Do you think he noticed your absence or he's too busy with the new year eve's party?" he asked her, knowing full well she wasn't going to answer him too busy pushing her hips against his hard cock. He let slip his free hand in between her legs, founding her clit.

"What would Benny think if he saw you right now, hm?" Dean felt her walls fluttering around his cock at that, making him falter for a moment.

Y/N let go of her mouth free even though she knew that wasn't a smart move, but the need to hold on to something was too much. So, she held onto the sink not being able to do anything if not stay there and take every push of Dean's cock ready to burst.

"Dean..." she whined, hoping that the music downstairs would cover her moans.

"You'd like that, don't you?"

"Oh God..."

"Say it," he told her, rubbing faster and faster at her hardened clit.

"Fuck... yes! Yes... yes..." she sobbed while the hardest orgasm of her life washed over her; her juices coating his cock. Dean groaned at the sight of her coming undone and after a few more thrusts he was spilling inside her, filling her up.

"Fuck, babe, yes." he panted in her ear, while his hips spasmed a bit more.

Dean collapsed on her, being careful to not crush her against with his weight. He breathed heavily, resting his forehead against her shoulders. Y/N rested against the cool sink, trying to catch her breath while letting her fingers travel between Dean's locks.

"That was..." he whispered, licking at his cracked lips.

"...the last time?" she asked him, scratching at his scalp making him moan.

"Yeah."

"You already said that yesterday after you fucked me on your couch..." she whispered, glancing at the mirror to look at him. Dean hid his face in the crock of her neck, grabbing at her breasts and squeezing them.

"...and the week before when we fucked in your car..." she whimpered, knowing exactly what she was doing while he bit down her skin.

"...and at Christmas dinner..."

Dean pulled hard at her nipples, making her gasp, and her core clenched around him but that seemed not to be enough to stop her.

"...half an hour later I was sucking you off, remember?" she asked, pushing him away gently just enough to turn around to have a better look at him. Dean let her move, still keeping her trapped between him and the sink, already missing the warmth of her pussy around him.

"Yeah, I remember that like I remember being balls deep inside you while your dad was sleeping three doors down," he whispered kissing her hard, letting his tongue swirl around hers.

God, she was able to make him a needing mess - he thought making a huge effort to push away from her. Dean licked at his lips, tasting her while slowly starting to recompose himself the best he could.

"We should get dressed and go downstairs before midnight," he said to her, bending down to grab her red lacy thong. She nodded her head, starting to adjust her bra before pushing down in his place her sweater. Dean kneeled at her feet helping her with her panties, pulling them up at her leg, and stopping halfway through to give one last lick at her wet pussy. Y/N shivered at that, opening her legs a bit more to give him better access at which she earned a gentle suck at her lips before he pulled her panties all the way up. Dean got up, kissing her one last time letting her taste herself on his tongue.

"You go first, and I'll follow in a few," he said to her, watching her adjust her skirt before walking to the door. She put her hand around the knob ready to turn it when she glanced at him.

"So, last time?" Y/N asked him just to be sure.

"Last time."

"Great, I'll see you back at your house then."

She winked at him before opening the door and slipping out of the bathroom. Dean closed the door behind her, resting his head against the cool wooden.

He was a dead man, but damn if it wasn't worth it.

503 notes · View notes

chimcess · 1 year ago

Text

→ Chapter 3.5: When She Sees Me Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff Word Count: 1.8k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Park Jimin is the man who's in love with her, and when their worlds collide in tragedy, he must decide if he is willing to put his old life aside to make a new one. Warnings: Jimin POV, Kissing, talks of sexual feelings (not exlipict), I love this man with my whole heart, just a boy in love, takes place at the end of chapter three of the main storyline, THAT scene, FLUFF, This was so much fun to write, to be in wolf Jimin's head... the dream. Disclaimer: While you don't have to read any of the series to understand what's going on, it won't make a ton of sense. I highly recommend reading this in conjunction with the original work, Trees That Wheep. A/N: On the first day of Christmas Lex gave to thee... Jimin's P-O-V. Thanks so much to everyone who participated in the poll I held. Hope this meets expectations despite her being on the shorter side. Happy holidays and stay safe.

|| Chapter 3 || Masterlist ||

"Yours must be very interesting."

I shook my head. "Not really. Mostly the angsty ramblings of a teenager. Nothing more."

I sounded convincing enough. I heard Jimin shuffling around but refused to look his way. Deciding that I was done for the night, I began closing and stacking the grimoires I had taken out. I'd sort through them later. Glancing at the walls, I couldn't tell what time it was, but I knew it had to be close to sunset. I needed to get to my room soon.

Turning, I felt strong arms resting on either side of my waist. Shocked, I turned my head to find Jimin standing directly behind me. His chest pressed against my shoulder as I faced him. He had never been so close to me before.

Jimin’s POV

Her chest felt soft against me, and I struggled to keep my nerve. Walking over here had been impulsive, my feet moving before I was able to think it over, but having her between my arms made the potential embarrassment worth it. She looked so lovely in the candlelight, and whatever she had been reading caused her shoulders to tense uncomfortably.

Her eyes were wide, confused, and couldn't find a point of my face to stop on. I could hear her heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, and her scent made me force a groan back. She was so sweet, like vanilla, with an almost bitter aftertaste. I would compare it to whiskey, but that was too strong. Tobacco, cotton, and vanilla came to mind.

"Jimin?"

She was so gentle when she said my name, caressing it as if it were a precious secret. I leaned into her, wanting to hear her heart beating closer still. Drunk off her presence, I found myself talking.

"Can I tell you something?" I whispered, just as softly as she had said my name.

Our chests touched, and I moved my hands behind her back. Wrapping around her, I forced my hands onto the table. I was itching to hold her tightly, but I was afraid of what might happen. Placing one hand on top of the other, I felt myself trembling. We had never been so close, and only in my dreams did I think this possible. She refused to look at me, her breathing as heavy as my own, causing me great pleasure.

"Y/N," I called to her, hoping she could hear all the ways I loved her within it. "Can I?"

Eyes locking, I had to grip my fingers to keep them on the table. I could smell the faintest trace of her arousal, and it took all of my self-control to ignore it. She shivered against me, and I knew she was feeling the same electricity that I was. I could hear her swallow, something I found oddly arousing, and she nodded.

Something was crossed tonight. The lines I had meticulously placed between us for years had come crumbling down ever since the day I came here with Hoseok. There was something about watching her walk around her home, her feet unable to stay still while she worked that had struck me. Feeling her eyes on me, knowing that she wanted to watch me just as much as I wanted to watch her, unleashed this animal. The more primal part of my personality wanted to shout at Hoseok to leave us alone so I could take what was mine. The other side, the man, wished to sit and listen to her talk about the knives she loved to make, to ask her all of the questions I had been dying to have answered, and watch the way her eyes lit up. Realizing that we would never go back to a time before this, I decided to be upfront.

"I enjoy your company," I had to tell her.

She nodded, dazed. Her eyes did not leave my own, and she searched, ever the curious girl, for something. I had long ago stopped trying to figure her out. Instead, I hoped that she would tell me. I wanted her to want me to know her. With that in mind, I decided to destroy the walls between us.

"I like being close to you. Is that alright?"

"Yes," she replied breathlessly, needily.

I leaned into her, drawing closer. Her eyes were hooded, heavy, and the lust within them brought me to my knees. She wanted me so badly, the smell of it clinging to the air, adding another layer to her familiar smell. It reminded me of sea salt. I swallowed thickly and leaned in closer. Not tonight, I told myself, the grip on my left hand painful now. I could wait for that. I had been waiting for her for so long.

"Do you want me to stop?" I whispered, so close to her lips that I could feel the ghost of them against mine.

I felt her hesitate. This was nothing new. She had always kept her emotions for me on a tightly controlled leash. It had bothered me for a long time until I realized that she might have thought them foolish. I had never announced myself or made an effort to get closer to her. My own fears made me weak, but to have denied her this made me feel half a man. How could I have ever taken this choice from her? From us? Foolish.

"No," she said, her eyes already closing.

It would take less than a second of a second to lean forward. Such a small, inconsequential gap in time. A blink, and it was gone. Nothing. However, as I leaned in, I knew this small space would be burned into my mind. The anticipation, the way my heart sang and my hands trembled. Our lips brushed, and my knees went numb.

Kissing her was unlike anything I had ever experienced. She was so soft, so warm, and frail beneath me as I struggled to keep myself at her eye level. She sighed, her hands finding home on my chest, and I could no longer keep myself off her. Wrapping her in an embrace, I wanted to cry from joy. Everything that I had ever wanted, wondered, and fantasized paled in comparison. None of it did this moment justice. With her hands twitching against me, her lips chapped, mouth dry, and breathing into my mouth each time we pulled away, I was certain I had never done something so right in my whole life.

She finally started pulling away, and I opened my eyes to watch her. She was so beautiful. Her eyes were glazed and not even halfway opened. Staring at her, the candlelight making the beads on her top shine prettily, all I could imagine to say was that I loved her. Instead, I bent over even more and nuzzled my nose into her hairline.

"Thank you," I mumbled, already thinking about kissing her again.

She nodded before leaning into me once more. Tiptoeing to reach my face, hands traveling from my chest to my shoulders, her eyes closing. Cupping her face, so small and delicate beneath my hands, I pulled her to my eagerly waiting lips. She grinned against me as I tangled my fingers in her hair.

Suddenly, I felt her tongue licking at my lower lip, and the delicate balance I had been desperately trying to keep since I approached her tipped. With a strangled groan, I opened my mouth to hers and slid a hand from her hair to her hips. Sucking her tongue, I picked her up off the floor and lifted her onto the desk she had been occupied with all night. I didn't even think before my leg was forcing hers apart and making space for the rest of me.

Her hands gripped my shirt tightly, and I wished she would go back to twitching against my chest. She felt more solid there, more real. Her mouth was wet and hot as we kissed, her tongue hesitant and shy while I knew I was being more aggressive than she was used to. Thoughts of her kissing another made me uncomfortable, so I kissed her even harsher to remove whatever they may have left behind.

Then she was shoving me away, ripping her lips from mine as she struggled to catch her breath. I took a few steps back, unsure what the problem could be. One look at her, however, and I was sure. The change was coming.

"Go," she choked, scrambling off the desk.

A loud, piercing scream called me to action. As much as I hated leaving her in moments like this, I knew it made her uncomfortable to have me around. Her comfort would always trump my own needs and wants—that I was sure of. Running up the cellar steps, I threw open the little door and threw myself onto the living room floor. Closing the door, the tortured screams of my love were muffled.

My heart shattered as I listened to her, but I knew it wouldn't last long. A few feet away, Taehyung slept soundly. I envied his ability to do that. Ever since I got here, I had found sleeping restless. With her so close yet so far away, it was impossible to relax.

A large, toothy grin overtook me. I would never sleep without her again. I would try my hardest to be sure of that. Her lips lingered on my own, tingling and swollen, and I never wanted the feeling to fade. I would make sure I always felt this way, every day, for the rest of our lives.

I could see it now, living here with her. We would cook dinner together, eat together, sleep together. For Yule, we would put up a tree. For Litha, I would tend her garden while she watched me from the window. We would have children, beautiful children that looked like her, and love them the way they deserved to be loved. My family would learn to live with my choices, and my pack would always be my own, but I needed to be where my heart was.

As her screams dissolved into ragged, guttural sounds, I felt a strange kind of calm settle over me. It was as if the world had narrowed to this single, intense moment where my heart felt exposed, raw, and ready to bleed. I knew what needed to be done—what should have been said the very moment my wolf snarled and bared its teeth at anyone who dared stand between us in that dark, twisting cave. When I had painstakingly tended to her wounds, her frail body barely clinging to life in that small, dimly lit room. Each fleeting glance, every stolen moment, the restless dreams and nightmares that had haunted me—every fragment of yearning and hope had led to this.

Tonight, I would lay bare my soul. I would tell her that she was my mate. Tonight, we would draw our lines in the sand and never look back. Tonight, I would love her with every ounce of strength I had, and I would pray she would accept me. Tonight, and every night after, I would fight for her, for us, until the very end. I needed her to see—no one, not even in the darkest corners of existence, has ever loved another as I love her.

@greezenini@adventures-in-bookland@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@zae007live@jimin-neverout@nikkiordonez12@canarystwin@yamekomz@chimthicc@michiiedreamer@amorieus@mima795@yunki-yunki-yunki

58 notes · View notes

janicho88 · 1 year ago

Text

When It All Falls Apart -Chapter 6

Pairing- Jensen x ex!Padalecki Reader

Word count- 2,454

Warnings- Some language. Drinking, dealing with a breakup. Angst, If I missed something let me know!

A/N-Sorry for the last chapter, but you all had to know it was coming. A little off canon, SPN ended after 10 years. We still got all the characters in during that time though. Thank you to @writercole and @leigh70 for your help with this. You two are amazing!!

Summary-Y/N Padalecki loved acting on Supernatural. Working alongside your older brother and your boyfriend, but after ten seasons the guys have chosen to hang up the guns. Now the three of you are moving on to other projects, but that’s all that needs to change right? While you have moved to Austin to be closer to your family and boyfriend, Jensen is working elsewhere. Distance is only the start of your troubles.

Series Masterlist

Walking out of Jensen’s apartment building you hail a cab to take you to an airport hotel. You manage to keep yourself together until you check in and close the hotel room door behind you. This weekend really couldn’t not have gone much worse. You don’t bother changing out of your clothes before you collapse down on the bed in tears.

Back in his apartment, Jensen is pacing the floor and keeps looking at the door. ‘What the hell just happened,’ he thinks to himself, ‘there is no way things have really been as bad as she thinks.’ Grabbing the half full bottle of whiskey off the counter he takes it to the couch where he drops down in the corner spot. By the time he passes out, the alcohol is much closer to the bottom of the bottle.

You aren’t able to get much sleep Sunday night and you get yourself over to the airport before 5 am. Just in time to find out your flight has been delayed because of the incoming storms. Sitting down in an empty area near the terminal, you pull your hat down further to help hide your face. The black clouds and claps of thunder are very fitting of the current turbulence you feel in your heart.

It is a few hours late, but the plane is finally ready to board. With the layover in Atlanta, you should be arriving back in Texas around 3pm instead of 11:30am. Maybe no one will notice you’re coming home too early then. You aren’t really up to rehashing everything with Gen and Jared when you get back. You didn’t think you would be able to, but you manage to sleep most of the way to Atlanta, making that flight feel much shorter.

Your family isn’t expecting you for a few more hours, so you take a cab back home instead of calling one of them to pick you up. Thankfully, no one is home when you arrive. A half an hour before your flight is supposed to land, you text Jared that you are back early, and have a ride home. You’ve had a little bit of time now to try and make yourself presentable enough to face them, without giving anything away.

Jared and crew arrive home a short time later with some pizza, and you join them in the dining room.

“How was the trip?” your brother asks, around a mouthful of food.

“Okay. Toronto’s a nice city. Saw the aquarium, CN Tower, and did some shopping.”

“How’s Ackles? Is he ready to come home?”

“He’s okay, really busy. I don’t know. He seems to be having a good ole time up there,” you don’t notice the bitterness in your answer, but Jared and Gen do.

“Tom,” Gen turns to her son, “why don’t you go play in the living room?”

“Okay,” the little guy doesn’t take much persuading.

“How are you and Jensen?” she asks once Tom is gone.

“We’ve been better,” you answer vaguely.

“Did this trip help at all?”

“It’s made where we stand pretty clear.”

“That’s good right?” you brother questions.

“Where is that?” Comes from Gen.

You clean up your spot and set your plate in the dishwasher, on your way out of the kitchen you pause and turn to face them briefly. “We broke up,” you announce before disappearing upstairs. Before you shut the bedroom door you hear Gen yelling.

“Jared Tristen Padalecki put that phone down now!”

“I’m going to…”

“Do nothing to interfere in this.”

You aren’t surprised when there is a brief knock right before Jared enters the room. He walks around the room for a moment before sitting down across from you on the bed. “So what happened?”

“I was right, our relationship has run its course.”

“What did he do?”

“Jared, you know I love you, but I’m not letting you put yourself in the middle of this. Some relationships just don’t work out. Jensen’s life and mine just don’t fit together anymore. He has a lot going on, and I just don’t have a place in his life.”

You see your brother clenching his jaw working over what you said, you continue before he can say anything. “The two of you are best friends, what happened between him and I shouldn’t change that. Please don’t let it.”

“I told him if he ever hurt you, I would kick his ass.”

“I believe that, but I’m asking you not to. You also told a few of my exes that, and never followed up, don’t start now.”

“First time for everything,” he mumbles.

“I wish things didn’t turn out the way they did, I really do Jare. I guess it’s better to realize it’s not going to work out now then before things go any further.”

“I don’t understand how this happened, I know Ackles was crazy about you.”

“Was, " is the keyword in that sentence. Can you please just drop it?”

He comes over to give you a hug before leaving the room. When he opens the door, Gen is standing on the other side.

“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t have to stop Jared from doing anything crazy,” she says as she walks in.

Jared gives her a kiss before he leaves and she joins you on the bed. “Seriously, are you okay? I know you won’t bring Jared in the middle of this.”

“No, this fucking sucks,” you tell her as you start to cry again. She moves next to you and wraps you in a big hug.

“I’m so sorry sweetie. I’m here for whatever you need, let it all out.”

“I really thought he was my forever, ya know.”

“What happened this weekend?”

You go on to tell her all about your time in Toronto, ending with the breakup. “I think a part of me is always going to be in love with him. Right now, I can’t even think of seeing him again just knowing how hard it’s going to be.”

“It’s going to sting for a while, but you’re going to get through it. You have friends and family that are going to be there for you to lean on. You said it yourself, the way things have been lately, you didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

The two of you sit together a little bit longer before she has to go deal with a shouting Tom. You turn the television on to try and distract yourself before going to sleep. Maybe Bones will help with that.

Up in Toronto, Jensen’s day hasn’t gone off much better. He is awoken by the ringing of his phone. Leaning up from the couch he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and the bright sunlight is not welcomed by his hangover. Closing his eyes he tries reaching around for his phone before finally locating it.

“‘Lo,” he answers.

“Bloody hell, are you still in bed mate?” Karl asks on the other end.

“Never made it there, what’s up?”

“We were supposed to meet for breakfast ten minutes ago before going to work on this scene. Jack, Anthony and Erin are already here. I take it you aren’t going to make it.”

“Fuck.”

“Think you might have already done that last night with your girl.”

Jensen lets out a dry laugh while holding his head. “I’ll meet you at the studio.”

Forcing himself from the couch, he makes his way to the kitchen for some water and pain pills. Drowning those he attempts to get himself ready for the day. Grabbing sunglasses and a hat before leaving the apartment he stops for a greasy fast food breakfast on his way to set.

He is the last one to arrive, everyone else is standing at the back of the room waiting for the choreographer in charge of this fight scene to finish getting ready. Eric is off to the side going through notes with the director.

“Where’s your better half? She comin around for a tour today?” Karl asks, looking around.

“She’s gone,” Jensen says lowly before taking a drink of his coffee.

“I thought she said her flight was this afternoon?”

Jensen just shrugs.

Karl takes a minute and studies the man who has become a friend to him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Jensen walks over to a chair and sits down by himself waiting for things to start.

They have been given instructions for this scene yesterday and today, some of it has even been demonstrated. They go through the first rehearsal, and there are some mistakes all around. By the fourth time, it seems to be mostly Jensen who is struggling with it. They call for a break and Karl takes him off to the side.

“I’m going to ask this one more time. What is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s a load of shit. You’re fucking awful out there, and you smell like a damn brewery.”

Jensen sighs and turns away running a hand down his face before looking back to his friend. “Y/N left me last night.”

“To go back home? We’ve got less than a month left of filming now, before long you’ll be back home with her. Or hop a plane to go see her this weekend. Pull it together, mate.”

Karl starts to turn back around, but the next sentence from Jensen stops him. “No, she left me. Said I was an asshole and she couldn’t take things anymore. Or something like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jensen just nods, “let’s try this again.”

It takes a few more tries, but they all finally get it down the way Kripke and the director want it. As they are all grabbing their things, Karl goes over to talk to Jensen, but Eric beats him to it.

“I heard what you said to Karl. I think you and I need to talk.”

Jensen doesn’t say anything as he follows his boss and long time friend out of the room and to his own trailer. Eric waits for him to open it up before following inside.

“What’s going on?”

“I thought you said you heard what I said to Karl?” Jensen retorts as he grabs two waters out of his fridge.

“I did, and I also talked to a very upset Y/N last night at the restaurant.”

“I’m sorry she bugged you to bring her along.”

“She didn’t, I ran into her in the elevator. Why didn’t you bring her, or invite her along?”

“She isn't part of the cast.”

“I know this group and they include friends and significant others when they go out if someone is in town. Have things really gotten that bad between the two of you?”

“That’s what she seems to believe. I thought we were fine. Things have been busy, I don’t see her much, but I didn’t think it was anywhere near as bad as she seems to.”

“You were putty in that girl's hands the first time you met. Took you long enough to act on those feelings. Watching you last night, today even. I don’t think she is too far off from her claim. Maybe this role is getting in your head a little bit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jensen questions him with a glare.

“Think about it. You were actually so pissed off that I brought her along last night, you made her leave. The guy she used to date, would have gotten up the moment he saw her, had his arm around her the whole night showing her off to his friends. I’ve never known you to be upset at seeing her.”

Jensen doesn’t respond to that.

“I remember walking by you facetiming each other in between scenes if one of you wasn’t on set, even before you started dating. I barely hear you talk about her now, let alone talking to her.”

“No phones on set policy here, remember.”

It’s Eric’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’ve been a friend a long time, and I would hate to see you lose probably the best thing that has ever happened to you, because you are being an idiot.”

“She left me.”

“When you go home after filming wraps, and you have a chance to get your head out of your ass, you might want to buy some knee pads.”

“What for?”

“You’re going to have a lot of groveling to do. Before she left, she asked me to keep an eye on you, she still cares about you.” Having said his peace Eric walks out of the trailer.

The door doesn’t stay shut for long, Karl is coming in next. “So what happened?”

“Eric talked to Y/N last night, apparently he seems to see her side.”

Karl stares at Jensen before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “I mean what happened with you and your girl? I was a little surprised she left the restaurant.”

“I told her she shouldn’t have made Eric bring her.”

“So you were just going to leave her home alone?”

“Why is everyone so caught up on that? It was a cast get together.”

Karl holds up his hands. “So she left because you made her go home?”

Jensen starts pacing his trailer. “Why is that everyone’s hangup here? Everything I do is for us, yet she can’t see that. I work hard so that we can have a good life. She says we never talk, that’s not true. Then she tells me she doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. I don’t know what more she wants from me. All I do is for her.”

Karl is quiet for a minute, “this about forgetting her birthday?”

“I didn’t forget, I just didn't realize it was June already. Besides, I made that up to her already.”

“I see, she seemed like a great girl. Sorry, things didn’t work out for you two. Do us all a favor tonight, we got some big scenes to film tomorrow, try and keep it sober.” With that Karl makes his exit also.

Jensen throws his bottle of water across the trailer in frustration. Grabbing his bag he heads out to the car to get out of here and back to the apartment where no one will give him any more shit tonight.

Despite Karl’s earlier remark, he pulls a beer out of the fridge as soon as he’s out of the shower, he finds himself in the bedroom staring at the picture of the two of you on his nightstand. ‘How the hell did we get to this point?’ he thinks to himself as he drowns the bottle and tips the picture down. The sight of your smiling face hurts too much to see.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 7

Tags

SPNForevers- @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons @emoryhemsworth @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278 @fantasydevil2002 @writercole @440mxs-wife @nervousfandom @lunarmoon8 @thoughts-and-funnies @downanddirtydean @katelyn--renee @that-one-gay-girl @lyarr24 @pineapleavocado @siospins2 @ariesbabe1993 @graciebear73 @stixnstripesworld @spnbaby-67 @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @charmed-asylum @winchestergirl2 @jawritter @hobby27 @amyzombie1013 @sexyvixen7 @leigh70 @krazykelly @nancymcl @candy-coated-misery0731 @kmc1989 @supraveng

WIAFA Masterlist

@woodworthti666 @spnfamily-j2 @stoneyggirl2 @creative-writing92 @kaz11283 @deans-baby-momma @let-me-luv-you @senjoritanana @itzabbyxx @djs8891 @tmb510 @perpetualabsurdity @mellyie @fiftyshadesgrl @jessicalynnann

#supernatural #jensen ackles rpf #jensen x female!reader #jensen ackles x reader #When It All Falls Apart

114 notes · View notes

andreafmn · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 11

Word Count: 2.9K Paring: Paul Lahote x Human!Fem!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Sensory Deprivation WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), oral (female receiving), sensory deprivation (handcuffs, earplugs, blindfold), fingering, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex

Summary: Paul Lahote has always had trouble trusting and letting other trust him. Parts of his past have left him doubtful and uncertain of everything, even (Y/N)'s feelings for him. No matter what she says or does, he believes they are only the result of the supernatural ties that bonds them. But she will do anything to make him understand otherwise.

A/N: First Paul fic of the season, many more to come 😉😉 also, yes, I am behind schedule... are we surprised? 😅😅

<- Previous | Next ->

Trust was not something that came easily to Paul Lahote. Not giving it or receiving it. The very people that he should have believed in the most were the first to break it, and it had done nothing for any of his future relationships.

After shifting, it only got worse. He was forced to lean on his brothers in the pack. They required mutual trust to ensure everything ran smoothly between them. He couldn’t help but trust them. There was no other path he could take.

But imprinting on (Y/N) brought on a level of uncertainty he had never thought possible. He had been lucky enough that she shared his feelings once he confessed everything he was and everything the bond meant. Yet, he’d felt that way about her before the shift, and he couldn’t help but wonder if her feelings were because of the supernatural link that tied them together. Even if she told him many times that the way she felt about him had nothing to do with the imprint bond, a part of him always wondered.

(Y/N) was nothing if not determined, though. She would get Paul to understand that her feelings ran deeper than a supernatural tie, that the universe has brought them together for a reason, even if he didn’t believe it to be so.

Truth was, she’d had feelings for him long before they even said a word to each other. When walking down the halls of their school, she wondered what it would be like to be the girl under his arm and not just another student he nodded to as he walked to class. At that time, she didn’t know that he harbored the same thoughts but always believed she was too good to be with someone like him.

But long gone were the high school days, and the fates had decided that their lives should cross. Even if Paul questioned the why every day of his life, (Y/N) knew they were meant for each other. And she planned to show him just how much she thought so.

“Can’t you just tell me what we’re doing?” Paul chuckled as (Y/N) led him up the stairs of her home. “You’ve been so secretive about tonight.”

“I told you that it’s your anniversary present,” she responded. “Now, stop dragging and get in the room.”

Behind the closed door, Paul saw a plethora of candles lit around her room, basking the area in a warm light. On the bed, a small back box with a bow around it rested, waiting for him to open it. “Is that for me?” he questioned. “The black box?”

“It is,” she smirked. “Check what’s inside.”

With a confused look, Paul reached for the box, untying the white ribbon around it and letting it fall onto the floor as he lifted the lid to the box. His stare turned amused as he pulled item after item from the container, unsure of what it meant. He pulled out leather handcuffs, a silk blindfold, and small foam earplugs.

“What’s this?”

(Y/N) crossed the room, closing the door behind her and taking Paul’s hands into hers. “I want you to know that I trust you completely, baby,” she said. “I trust with my mind, my body, and my soul. Tonight, I want to give you all of my senses. I want to let you know that there is not a single drop of doubt in my body that what we have was always supposed to happen.”

“(Y/N)… I-I don’t think I can.”

“Please, Paul. I need you to take this leap of faith with me,” she pleaded, resting a hand on his cheek. “I need you to trust yourself and trust us as much as I do.”

“I do trust you, baby. Of course, I do,” he sighed. “But I don’t trust myself. I’ve never been able to.”

“Then let me show you how,” she whispered. “Trust yourself with me. Trust yourself with my body because I do. If you don’t believe yourself, then believe me.”

Paul kissed her tenderly, taking her jaw in his hand. Her lips were warm and expectant, and as loving as the first time they had kissed. He caressed her skin and cradled her body, pulling her body to his.

He did want to believe in himself, believe that the universe did think they were the perfect match. But where she was calm, he was explosive. Where she was kind, he was sarcastic. Where she was caring, he was stubborn. How could he trust that someone didn’t make a mistake along the way?

But at that moment, he knew he had to trust her. He had to because she was trusting him. And he kissed her to let her know that. His hands reached behind her back as he unzipped her dress, pulling the straps gently from her before allowing the fabric to pool at her ankles.

As they parted to remove Paul’s shirt, (Y/N) took the blindfold and placed it in his hands. He stared at the piece of fabric as she placed the air plugs and the cuffs on top, smiling at him as if he had placed the stars in the sky.

“Do it,” she said. “I trust you, Paul. You’ll take my sight, my hearing, and my touch. You’ll have it all in your hands to do as you please. Mind, body, and soul, baby.”

With another chaste kiss to her lips, Paul started by taking her sight, slipping the silk over her eyes. He tied the blindfold behind her head. He led her to the bed, still dressed in her black lace underwear, where he clasped her arms to the headboard. “I love you,” he said as he slipped one plug into her ear. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“And I love you,” she responded as he placed the other. “More than you’ll ever believe.”

It was exhilarating to not have her senses. Everything made her sensitive. The gentle breeze that came in through her window made her skin erupt in goosebumps. Every slight movement from anything around her made her jump. And the anticipation made her drenched with desire.

But Paul couldn’t help the nervousness that took him over as he heard her heart hammering in her chest. It was running like it wanted to crawl out of her skin, and it made him question just how much she truly wanted that moment.

Trust. That’s what it was all about. He needed to trust what (Y/N) said. Needed to trust the love and care she had put into their relationship. It was time that he believed the words she said and not the thoughts that clouded his head.

He took it slow at first. He caressed her skin, reveling in the way her body arched toward his touch. His hands traveled the expanse of her body, from her face to her legs, mapping every inch in sight. Paul kissed her softly on the lips, beginning a trail of kisses down her body. From her cheek to her jaw, from the spot on her neck that made her moan to the swell of her breasts that made her mewl.

Paul’s tongue left a trail of wetness across her body as she panted. Cutting off her senses made her more sensitive than he’d ever thought possible. Simple caresses and kisses made her keen in pleasure, her body arching to where the touch came from. It made his cock press against the seam of his jeans, hearing her moan because of him.

In a swift rip, he removed her underwear, leaving her exposed under the light of the moon. Her legs pressed together in an attempt of modesty, but Paul spread them before she could hide her weeping wetness.

“You should know you owe me a pair of underwear now,” she said rather loudly, but all Paul could do was laugh, knowing she could not hear an answer. “That was my favorite matching set, just so you know.”

Something came over him then as he came face to face with her wet cunt. An animalistic urge to dive into her and claim her as his own. He wanted his ears to fill with her pretty sounds, wanted her legs to close around his head as she wailed in pleasure because of his tongue, wanted her to beg him to fuck her like never before. Her entire body was on display and under his control. She was his, from now until forever.

He kissed his way up her legs, sinking his teeth softly into her skin and licking the pain away after. He trailed her limbs until his mouth fell on her core, licking from her folds to her clit, spreading her and tasting her like never before. He closed his lips around the small bundle of nerves, sucking in his cheeks as his tongue caressed the mound.

(Y/N)’s breath hitched in her throat at the contact, her hands trying to snake their way into his hair but being held back by the restraints. Her chest heaved as Paul attacked her sex, moving his tongue expertly around her clit. She could feel him expertly twisting it around her, lighting a fire deep inside her stomach. Unconsciously, (Y/N) tried to close her legs again as pleasure traveled across her body, but with very little force, Paul kept them open. One hand on her leg, the other kneading her breasts and pulling at her nipples. It was overstimulation at its finest. And not being able to see him or hear how loud she was being, or even touch him made her that much more aroused.

But Paul wasn’t satisfied with only that. As she screamed out his name the second her first organs hit her, he slid two of his fingers into her cunt, scissoring the digits as her walls contracted against them. He could hear the rattling of the cuffs’ chains as she tried to stop the assault, but it only worked to make him smirk and keep going.

His tongue was aided by his fingers as he licked, sucked, nipped, and pistoned, making (Y/N) wail his name into the quietness of the house. Just like he wanted. He wanted everyone to know just how good he was making her feel. Wanted them to know how much she did trust him, that she had relinquished control of her body to him willingly and lovingly. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. They were one. Mind, body, and soul, they were meant for each other. Paul knew what (Y/N) needed without her having to say a word or even move a muscle, and he had to believe it.

With another finger inside her, (Y/N) felt stretched. But she knew that wasn’t the most her cunt would take. By the end of the night, she’d be sore and tired but completely satisfied. She knew Paul would see to it. And by how it was already going, she knew just how she’d be left trembling and satiated, and with a newfound trust between them. All because of a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold.

Paul remained buried between her legs until they closed on either side of his head as she moaned out his name loud enough for her voice to carry to the Young cabin. With a satisfied chuckle, he cleaned his mouth before placing his hand over her lips, prompting her to let his fingers into her mouth. He moaned as he gazed at her tasting herself on him, a mix of wanting her tongue around his cock instead and watching her moan out at her own taste.

With his free hand, Paul untucked his cock from his pants, stroking himself as she feasted on his fingers, taking them in as if it was him buried deep inside her mouth. He spread his precum along his lengths, groaning at the sensitivity of his member. He wanted to make the night last. Wanted to prove to her that handing over control of her body had been the best decision she could have made. But all he wanted was to be immersed in her warmth, covered by her fluttering walls and her glistening essence. He wanted her to know how hard she was making him, how in love with her he was.

Begrudgingly, he took his fingers out of her mouth, her lips making a popping sound as the digits exited. He slipped his pants alongside his underwear down his legs, tossing them at a corner of the room. His erection stood proudly in front of him as he climbed over her in bed, towering over her body as he trailed it with his mouth once more.

He grabbed his shaft with his hand, stroking the head against her floss, spreading her only slightly but not entering her yet. He crossed from her entrance to her clit, running back and forth on the outside.

“Stop teasing, baby,” she dead breathily. “You’ve done enough teasing for the night.”

Once more, Paul chuckled in response, knowing she would not hear a word he said. He kissed her lips then, using her gasp from spreading her with his cock to slip his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of her own juices, making him groan into her mouth, and her hands to struggle against the restraints.

“Move already, baby,” she groaned against his lips. “Please.”

How could he not when she was begging so deliciously? Her legs crossed around him as Paul finally entered her completely, thrusting slowly as her body got used to his size. The initial stinging always made her wince, but it wasn’t long until the sound was replaced with a pleasure-full moan. It was a tango they had perfected over time, adding and removing steps as they saw for. But the choreography always ended with both of them pleasantly satisfied.

(Y/N) didn’t want to wait, though. Her legs pushed Paul’s hips into her at a faster speed. Though it was not fast enough yet. There was only so much she could do with her limbs.

Her skin felt like it was on fire. Her desire to run her hands across his skin, to draw into him lines of love and pleasure that only she would remember were there, was enormous. Every time she felt the urge to do so, the throbbing of the leather against her wrists reminded her that she could not. If she wanted to touch Paul, he would have to decide so. Only he could touch her. Only he could give her all that she desired.

“Faster,” (Y/N) mewled. “Faster, Paul.”

And that’s what he did. His hips resounded against her ass in a thunderous clap as he thrust into her at the tempo he knew she wanted. The slickness of her insides mixed with the slapping of their skin made him grow feral. He moved in a way only he knew how, hitting the spots that made her cry out in pleasure.

“More!” she cried. “I’m close, baby. Give me more!”

Paul couldn’t deny her request. He had already rested on her like she was her essence of life and had taken her body for himself. If she wanted to cum, he would make sure that she did. His hand reached between them to find her clit, twisting it between his fingers as he angled his cock to the spot he knew would have her bursting around him.

Between his hand and his cock, there was no way (Y/N) could last much longer. It only took a couple of minutes more for her to come undone around him. Her back arched off the bed as she came with him, her arms held back as she cried out his name in pleasure. The only way she could get him closer was by wrapping her legs tighter around him, keeping him inside as their ends mixed inside her, filling her until she spilled around him.

As their orgasms ran through their bodies, Paul slid out of her slowly, gasping silently as their essences spilled out of her onto the bed. He then took off her earplugs, followed by the blindfold and the cuffs, kissing the redness that had formed on her wrists.

Finally free of her restraints, (Y/N)’s hands cradled Paul’s cheeks to bring him in for a passionate kiss, the need to touch him at an all-time high. She ran her hands all over his exposed skin, making up for the time she could not.

“Tell me,” he said breathlessly as he parted from her red lips. “How did it feel?”

“Why tell you when I can show you?” (Y/N) smiled devilishly. “This is an exercise of trust, and trust goes both ways, baby.”

“You want me to wear the blindfold?” Paul asked, his cock already hardening at the idea.

“It looks like you like the idea,” she grinned. “I gave you everything that I am, Paul. Now it’s your turn.”

After only a second of silence, Paul smiled and gave her another kiss, pulling her toward him until she was straddling his lap, their chest pressed tightly together. “Okay,” he said breathlessly, his eyes trained deeply on hers. “Mind, body, and soul, right?”

“Mind, body, and soul,” she repeated. “Now, ready for round two?”

Next ->

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in every Kinktober work, any fandom or story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Taglist:@winter-soldier-101@zheezs14 @a-sifu-hotman @sunflowerleii@dyslexiccatterpillar @blackbluerose666 @slutforsainz @kortniec696 @xcastawayherosx@minhaimaginacao @bluebirbnamedjay @sirenheadenby @andreiaafaria @bluetreecloud20@sunshine2894 @valejewel @mushroomelephant @swidkid @skyesthebomb@esposadomd @nocturnalherb16

@avis15@wonieeee@baebeepeach@krazyk99@catgirlpwr@klf1999@sl-ut@adaydreamaway08@cinffy23@toomanythoughts33 @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @a-slut-for-loki-bucky @honeywxter @haroldpotterson@kaita11 @gangstalicious06 @uwunuggetchan@elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @ellabellabus07@blackloveangel13@euphoria1992@saltedcoffeescotch@lowkeysaurus@zealouscookierebeltrash@sleepilysworld@laylasbunbunny @american-sataness @cevans-winchester@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@jstarr86 @coquita @ilikepunsbeth @itsmytimetodream @laury-blackbeak @unstablekay@midnightmisses@magical-spit @ratsys @hopexargent @druigsluver29 @fresita1218

@the-house-of-rose-and-ember @unicornicopia1 @nessaasstuff @simon-e-mallory @urmomsfav-stuff @evattude @the-irish-princess @caosfanblr @heartfilia01 @jinxxangel13 @rinalouu @haikyuuswhore @arcaurix

140 notes · View notes

vacantgodling · 2 months ago

Note

❤️❤️❤️

LEGGOOOOOO (fyi i am randomizing what wips i am gonna have a ramble about)

(1) cage universe

KSKSKS i've kinda taken a mini break from planning schism but that's just kinda bc my irl life exploded and i've been tryna get over a lot of the bs that's going on, but where i left off with planning everything was just the entire chapter 2 which tldr (spoilers ig) cass and han are in paris and cass wakes up early to get them some breakfast. he ends up getting accosted at the food stand (cuz its in a lone-ish alley) by some talon goons and is gonna end up being taken to chateau guillard however he doesn't know that. what he also doesn't know is that when he's shoved into the van that the person sitting across from him with a bag on his head is actually jack, he got captured on purpose bc he's insane. and i really need to write bittersweet btw. idc about jack most of the time but jack and vincent provide me with a certain kind of brainrot that him and reapsies cannot replicate for me. i just kinda want the two of them (jack and gabe) to like fist fight each other but not even in a sexy way just like try and kill each other or smthn lol. its really funny to me that i don't ship them bc for all intents and purposes they have a dynamic that i normally love, but tbh i think its just the fact that i havent' imprinted on either of them like a baby deer so idc.

lmao.

(2) purple haze

i'm actually in a weird place regarding purple haze. calvin and jake are the oldest ocs that i have and still "use" but idk if i feel the same burning need to write purple haze like i did when i was 20. but i think it's bc a lot of the pain that i was feeling i channeled into it when i was younger and now that i'm getting older and more removed from the sitautions that made me feel that way in the first place, i just don't feel the same burning itch to write it. this isn't to say that i'm getting rid of the story or cal and jake or anything like that; maybe i'll write it for myself one day? but for now i just like thinking of all the characters and their relationships whenever they do happen to cross my mind. i'm glad they're happier.

(3) supernatural dads

I CAN'T DECIDE WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH KASPIAN TBH it drives me nuts. like i don't want him and his third baby mama to get together (i don't think? like they just seem like friends to me, though i could explore it ig? they have good chemistry its just not what i thought was gonna happen and i still don't think it will tbh). and i keep waffling back and forth between if i want him to have any type of p h y s i c a l relationship with either hue or jihan (cuz make it messy why not) and etc. i keep thinking on it and gnawig on it. but i want him to be happy too!! i just dk what that looks like for him and it could be because he doesn't know what that looks like for himself.

#s: supernatural dads #s: purple haze #ff: cage

6 notes · View notes

nessieart · 11 months ago

Text

дворняга

WC:7.8k

Summary: What if...HYDRA captured you?

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, gunshots, mentions of implied SA (but never specified), made up supernatural elements probably.

Italics signifiy speaking in a foreign language

Main Masterlist.

1954

The night air nips at your skin as you creep through the bushes, the only light coming from your now burning house. The smell of smoke permeates the air and rises high up into the moonless night. The orange glow from the flames pouring out of your house cast long shadows from your hiding place. When you reach a better vantage point to see the front of the house, you gasp, then clap your hand over your mouth to stop the scream that wants to bubble up.

There, lined in a row all kneeling in the dirt, are your brothers. Charlie seems to be talking to the men around him, head held high as he glares at the man you assume is in charge. You can't hear what they're saying, but you see the man standing in front of your brothers let out a hearty laugh.

Junior and Benji share a look, and you hear Aiden yell at Charlie to stop. You think you hear him say your name, but the roaring house fire is loud, and so is the blood rushing in your ears.

You notice the cuffs on your brother's hands and forearms, arms tightly bound behind them. Probably to stop them from Shifting, you think. The man in charge bends over to say something to Charlie, and a moment later, they all shout, Charlie hasn't made a move the whole time. You wonder what they said, because in the next moment, Aiden jumps up to lunge at the man, and then a resounding CRACK fills the air. And Aiden falls to the ground unmoving.

The scream escapes you now, but the sound is drowned out as another crack goes off, and Benji falls in a heap next to Aiden.

No, this can't be happening.

One of the men comes up and unfolds a baton, the end crackling violently with electricity, and shoves the end of it into Junior's side. He lets out a strangled scream and slumps forward as the pain passes.

Charlie's head falls forward, shoulders slumping in defeat and looks right at you, hiding in the dark in the bushes.

You scramble back in the dirt and go to get up and run. As you turn to run, you ram into a solid body and get knocked back down in the dirt.

Looking up, a giant mass of a man stands before you, his hair is stringy and long to his chin, there’s a mask covering the bottom half of his face but you’re sure he’s sneering at you. There's black paint or coal smeared across his eyes, and the crystal blue of his eyes shines that much brighter in the firelight from the house. They look cold and distant as he stares down his nose at you. A gleam catches your eye at the fingers on his left hand as they glint in the light from the fire. He clenches his fist, and there’s a mechanical whirring sound. He’s dressed in all black, from his combat boots to his pants and the tactical vest with long sleeves.

How did you not hear him come up behind you? “P-please,” you plead. There’s tears running down your face, making tracks in the dirt that’s smudged on your cheeks. He tilts his head to the side as he looks down at you, inhaling deeply.

“Poydem so mnoy, lepestok,” his voice is deep and gravely. It sounds like he has to force the words out of his mouth. It sends shivers down your spine, and you shake your head at him. He growls as he crouches down to your level, eyes flashing dangerously at you as his brow lowers over his eyes. In one swift motion his hand goes to his hip and he flips a knife through his fingers with practiced ease a few times before he grasps the handle and places the sharp tip under your chin so you can look up at him.

He smells like charred wood and machinery, gunpowder, leather, and dried mint. It reminds you of a cold winter's evening.

“YA ne budu sprashivat' snova,” his knife presses into your chin a little harder, making you whimper, “lepestok.”

“I-I don-don’t kn-know what y-you’re saying,” you tell him softly, afraid to speak above a whisper. “Please, pl-please let me go.” You reach up to touch his hand that's holding the knife, but his silver hand catches you before you can and holds your wrist in a crushing grip. You let out another whimper as he squeezes his fingers tighter.

He hauls you up by your wrist, your feet barely touching the grass beneath you. You bring your other hand up to try and pry his metal fingers from you, but his grip is unrelenting. He picks you up higher and brings your face closer to his, his cold, dead eyes narrowing above the mask.

“Ty poydesh’ so mnoy, lepestok,” he growls out. You would have felt his breath fan across your face if it weren't for the muzzle keeping it in. “Ili ya ub'yu togo, kto ubezhal.”

That last sentence has the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, you tug your arm again, eyes glowing and fangs extending.

“Let me go, or you'll regret it, asshole,” a growl bubbles up and out of your chest, skin rippling as you go to Shift.

Before you can blink, the man with the metal arm grips the front of your shirt and slams you down on the ground hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You're dazed as you look up through blurred vision at him hovering over you. His metal fingers dig into your collarbone to keep you down, and from his back, he pulls out a metal ring. He places it around your neck, and it closes with a deafening shink.

The pain is instant, causing you to arch up and let out a scream so loud it has you seeing spots. Silver, the collar around your neck. It burns into your skin, and you try and claw it off, only burning your hands in the process. The skin around your neck is raw and red within a few minutes, and you sag back into the ground, panting heavily and eyelids heavy.

The metal armed man grunts in satisfaction, pulling you up with him to stand and flopping you over his shoulder. You hang limply in his hold as he treks back to the men near the house.

“Come, enough struggling, Little Petal,” his voice is deep and accented as it rumbles through you.

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, raw and hoarse from screaming, “f-fuck you,” you croak. All the energy leaves you as you're carried across the grass, the heavy boots of the man carrying you thump loudly in your ears.

He comes to a stop and dumps your body on the ground unceremoniously, and when you loll your head to the side, you see Junior and Charlie still kneeling side by side. Junior has a few bruises littered around his face and body, and Charlie has a gash along his hairline that's trickling blood down his face and into the dirt. They both give you pained smiles, eyes filling with tears that soon spill as they look at you.

“Why didn't you run, Flowers?” Junior husks, eyes bouncing between your own.

“Co-couldn’t leave yo-you,” you manage to say. The men around you speak in that foreign language as you talk to your brothers.

“Where is the other Shifter, Soldat?” A man sneers, his accent heavy. Eastern European, Russian, you think.

“Gone,” is all the metal-armed man says. You peer up to him, his eyes are trained ahead, unseeing and blank. In the next second, the man in charge steps forward and strikes him across the face with the back of his hand. The other men around snicker to themselves. The man, Soldat, barely moves, just his face turning with the force of the blow, his long, stringy hair fanning across his face, and you think he's staring down at you now. His face is impassive, and he turns it slowly back to face forward again.

“Where?” Charlie whispers to you, eyebrows creased in worry.

You give him a smile, you hope, though it's probably more of a grimace, “I hear there's Sunshine out in Shiprock,” you speak the code you know only your brothers would understand. A look of relief fills their faces. Your muscles tense as a new wave of pain goes through you as the silver collar settles on your skin. You crawl towards your brothers, trying not to focus on the lifeless forms of Aiden and Benji.

You almost reach them, fingers barely grazing Junior's knee when a boot between your shoulder blades shoves you back to the ground. You whimper at the pain from the collar and the full force of the person standing on you.

“Sdvig. ili umeret',” the man above you sneers. He presses his boot down harder into you, and you yelp, hands reaching and fingers digging into the dirt. The silver collar digs into your skin more, and you struggle to fight through the pain.

You can barely make out that your brothers are yelling at the man to stop and that you can't understand what it is they want. After several moments or hours, you can't tell, Charlie's voice reaches your ears. It's frantic, and he's trying to be soothing, but you can tell he's panicking.

“Shift, he wants you to Shift, Flowers! Do it!”

“Can't,” you rasp, “silver.”

“Tell her to change! Or one of you dies!” The Head man says, and when you peer over to Charlie and Junior, they're both pushed to the ground as well. The man over them cocks his gun and aims it at Junior's head. “Sdvig!”

You try with every fiber of your being to Shift, but the pain and the silver won't let you. “I can't!” You shout, tears pile in your eyes, and you can barely see when the man above your brothers shoots Junior twice before the light leaves his eyes. Your skin ripples as you hear Charlie let out a deafening roar. He screams he's going to kill every last one of the men in the clearing. Threatens them with such violent deaths that if they lay another finger on you, they'd regret it.

You're yanked up by the collar, and when you look up, the metal armed man is holding you. His eyes are empty as he stares back at you, and you let out a low growl. It hardly escapes your throat, but the warning is there.

“Shift, Little Petal, or he dies,” the Soldat speaks into your ear. When you look at Charlie, his eyes are glowing in anger. And then you look at the bodies of your brothers. Lifeless and unmoving, tiny pools of crimson paint the dirt.

You were all happy and laughing not even an hour ago, and now your house was a crumbling pile of flaming ashes.

“Why me?” You ask him, and when he doesn't answer, you look at the Soldat again. His brow is pulled low over his eyes, a question in his gaze. Did he even know why?

The man standing over Charlie laughs. It makes your blood run cold. “Because you are female, my dear,” and the implication isn't lost on you. Your heart rate kicks up, and you look at Charlie. His eyes have faded, and he stares at you in shock.

He says your name softly, like a prayer, pleading, “fight them, every step of the way. You fight. Don't let them-”

Crack

—--

You don't remember the pain, and you don't remember much of anything after the gunshot went off.

You do remember sinking your teeth into the man who shot your brothers. The warmth of his blood coating your mouth as you tore at his jugular. His body lay in a bloody heap beneath your paws. Your face, chest, and paws stained crimson as you look at the rest of the men gathered around. Fear and shock mar their faces, all except Soldat. There's a glint in his eyes. He seems amused even under the muzzle. He's the only one that could hold you back, but he all but threw you at the man now dead at your feet.

The remaining men around are all shouting in Russian for the Soldat to do something. They take cautious steps back to put themselves behind the metal armed man and far from you. He crouches down and extends his metal fingers to you. His stare is still blank, but it's not as cold as it was before.

“Come, they will not hurt you, not with me here,” Soldat says, his voice low and gravely. When you don't make a move toward him, he tries again. “they do not speak English. Only he could,” he nods his chin to the dead man at your feet, and his hand still extended to you.

A man in the back speaks up, voice wavering and uncertain, “zastavit' yeye podchinit'sya!”

You hear the Soldat growl and stand, his metal arm whirring as he clenches his fists. He says something back to the men, and they all flinch and hastily make their way back to the SUVs parked a few feet away. Except for one, he catches by the collar of his shirt and tosses him at your feet.

When you look up to the Soldat, he gestures to the man trying to scurry away from you, “The boot on your back,” he says calmly.

You growl, head going low and eyes flashing. You lunge and sink your teeth into the man's shoulder, he yells in pain, and you tighten your hold and rip away, blood spraying out onto the ground around you. The man gurgles for a second and is dead in the next.

You've silently crept your way to stand by the metal-armed man, head coming up just below his chest. His flesh hand comes up, and his fingers dig into your fur. The silver collar around your neck is a dull ache compared to the pain in your chest, heart shattered in a thousand pieces.

Your eyes close at the contact, you may have killed the man responsible for your siblings' deaths, but you can't bring yourself to look at them again. So when the Soldat takes a step towards the vehicles, you don't hesitate to follow. There's nothing left for you here, and getting them to leave lets Leon get far away from the death and destruction left behind.

—

You've lost count of the days, or months, or years maybe, that have passed since you followed Winter. It suited him. It was a better name than Soldat, in your opinion.

The silver collar around your neck doesn't pain you like it used to. The scars along your collarbone and neck never seem to heal.

The thin mattress and even thinner blanket sit in the corner of the cage they keep you in. Cage is a relative term. At least a cage has a view. the one you're kept in is just a concrete room with no windows and one door.

You only see Winter on rare occasions. He tried to protest once but was quickly punished for speaking out. You went to intervene, but the collar had a shock system in it, and you collapsed to the ground in a heap and was pulled out of your Shifted form. You lay naked and in pain as the aftershocks of the electricity coarsed through your system.

You only Shift to your human form when they tell you to. The electric shocks let you know when, any other time you're Shifted. It's easier that way, easier to deal with the handlers that were assigned to you. No one talked to you anyway. The men around the compound only sneered at or talked about you.

The heavy metal door to your cell opens, bright fluorescent light streaming into the dark room, and you shuffle up onto all fours. But the man at the door isn't your usual handler. He seems nervous and won't meet your eye. He shuffles on his feet, holds up an electrified baton, it crackles violently, and you pad out of the room and wait for instructions. You know the drill by now, do what they say or else. The or else usually results in some form of pain.

“khodit, dvornyaga,” (walk, mutt) You're not sure when you picked up on understanding Russian, but you could understand the basics. Maybe you have been here a long time. You shake the thought out of your head as you follow the man down a few corridors, twisting this way and that. You've ascended a few flights of stairs, and when he opens the next door, the room is vast and cold concrete. In the center of the room sits a strange contraption, surrounded by monitors.

On the opposite wall, there's another set of heavy metal doors. They roll open and in staggers Winter, fog rolling along the floor as he exits. Two men in uniform enter next, making him walk forward, but his legs give out, and he collapses to his knees, panting heavily. There's a man in a lab coat that follows behind and a final man with a maroon beret on his head. The handler, you think. There's a folder in his hands as he goes to wait by the contraption.

You make your way over to Winter, tail low but swishing slightly. You nose over his hair and down his face and into his neck, he brings his flesh hand up and digs in your fur. His hair is wet, maybe a little frost bitten like he was laying in a heap of snow. You put yourself under his arm, and he uses you to lean his weight on so he can stand again. Winter’s hand lazy finds your head and pats once, huffing out a heavy breath. He's barefoot, wearing the bare minimal tact outfit; a black vest and pants.

You felt like you hadn't seen him in years, but there he stood just like the first time you met him. Tall and broad and menacing. His shoulders straighten, and he cracks his neck from side to side.

You glance into the room he just left, and you see some kind of chamber. The door's ajar and fog is rolling out of it in a steady stream. You can smell the chill of it in the air, like the scent of the first snowfall of the year right before it happens. What was that machine? It makes a chill run down your spine.

When you go to pad back towards Winter, you're stopped by the man who collected you from your cell. He stands in front of you with the baton pointed at you, his face trying to be stern, but falls short when you growl at him.

“Time for you to Shift, Mutt,” he sneers. He raises the baton to your face, and it crackles in anticipation. Your ears go back, and you lower your head as another growl leaves you. You take a step back when the man advances.

There's panic in his eyes, frantically searching around the room as his heart kicks up a little.

“Leave her. She will comply after she witnesses this,” a man across the room calls. He's standing with the two men in matching camo and rifles in their hands. He ushers Winter towards the strange contraption and forces him to sit.

“Come closer, little mutt, and witness first hand total compliance,” the maroon beret man calls, a smug look on his face. The men with rifles secure Winter's arms down with bindings and then the metal arms above hum to life and shift down on either side of his face.

Winter makes eye contact with you for the briefest of seconds before the ends of the metal arms clamp around his face. One side completely obscured his face and the other framing his cheek. They tighten so he can't move his head, and the lab coat in the back flicks a few switches and you can hear the electricity hum to life and in the next second you see the metal armed man tense and scream in pain.

The sound makes your fur stand on end, the pain and agony leaving this man sends your mind reeling. What the hell were they doing?

After a moment, Red Beret opens a red book with a star on it, matching the red star on Winter's shoulder. He starts a series of phrases in Russian. You can't hear it over the rush of blood in your ears or over Winters screaming. And then the machine shuts off, metal arms retracting and raising away from the man in the chair.

He convulses with the aftershocks of the electricity, head twitching slightly. The Red Beret says one final phrase, and Winter's eye twitches before he looks up at his handler, eyes cold and distant.

“Good morning, Soldier,” the handler says as he places the red book down.

“Ready to comply,” the Soldat answers. His voice is rough as he forces the words from his mouth. Another shiver runs up your spine, but you take a few steps closer. The Soldats head lowers slightly, eyebrows furrowing low over his eyes, and his gaze cuts to you before you can take another step.

“I have a mission for you. Sanction and extraction. No witnesses,” the handler picks up a manilla folder, thick and full of papers, and holds it out for the Soldier to take. Without breaking eye contact with you, he takes the folder and rises to his feet. Your hackles stand on end, and your stance widens, head low as a growl escapes your chest.

Something about the way the Soldat moves is off; different. This isn't the same man you've known. He's cold and menacing. Things he's never been around you.

“And take the mutt with you,” the handler says, amusement in his voice. A pile of black tact gear is thrown at your feet, and in the next second, a harsh jab of the electric baton is shoved into your side. You yelp and go to dodge the next jab but a metal arm grabs you by the collar and holds you aloft, the electricity runs through you violently and the aftershocks make your skin ripple and a shudder runs through you. The Soldat drops you, and the collar turns on, and it forces you to Shift, and you let out a strangled yell through clenched teeth. He steps over your prone form and walks out of the room.

“Hurry after him, little mutt,” the handler says as he folds his arms across his chest. “Or do you want to try again?” He glances at the machine behind him, and your eyes widen. You scramble to grab the clothes and hastily put them on as you run to catch up to Soldat.

It's a one-piece bodysuit, and after you shove your arms and legs into it, you zip it up. The all black suit is a little baggy on you, but it fits well enough. The pants are cargo like, large pockets on either leg. The top is like a vest, the sleeves are cut off at the elbow and the neck is long and baggy, you can pull it up over your head and it covers the bottom half of your face as well.

You catch up to the Soldat, he puts in a code for the door, and the heavy metal of the doors creak and groan to life as they open just enough for you both to fit through.

The sheer cold hits you in the face, and a full blast of ice-cold wind forces its way through the door. You're keenly aware that you aren't wearing shoes as you follow the Soldat outside. He seems unaffected by the cold as he crosses the walkway and to a small aircraft, it's a little bigger than a helicopter, and plane-like. The ramp in the back is already down, and he climbs aboard, not even sparing you a glance.

When you finally shuffle your way inside, it's a little warmer, only due to the fact the wind isn't blowing inside. To your right, the Soldat stands at a rack of supplies, you notice he pulls a pair of boots out and shoves his feet in them, then a few knives find their way into various parts of his suit. He shifts over a little and extends his hand out to you, a pair of combat boots that look like they'll fit you in his hand.

You grab them before he can drop them, pulling them tight to your chest.

“Tha-” you cough and then clear your throat. It's been a very long time since you've had to use your voice. “Thank you.” It's rough and doesn't sound like you, but it comes out all the same. He nods and makes his way to the pilot seat, strapping in and plopping the manila folder down on the seat next to him.

“Read it,” he spares you a glance before he starts the aircraft and begins the preflight measures. When you sit next to him, he pauses, “aloud.”

When you open the file, it's all in Russian. No surprise there, but you can't read it. There's a photograph of an older man, a candid shot of him exiting a car. His hair is white, cropped short on the sides and fluffy on the top. His mustache is also white. And then you're struck by the fact that this photo is colorized.

“This,” you clear your throat again, “this photograph is in color,” you show him the image, and his eyebrows furrow, eyes moving along the photo, the paper and then your face. It's like he doesn't seem to grasp the concept. “It's in color,” you say more to yourself. Your fingers trace along the photograph, the lines on the man's face, down his chin and stopping the suit he wore. He was very well dressed.

“Ho-,” you cough again, this one longer than the last. “Howard St-Stark…” It's mostly mumbled to yourself, but the Soldat can hear you. “Born 1917, in New York… head of Stark Industries…. Worked on Projects PEGASUS, and REBIRTH, and co-founder of SHIELD. A lot of this is in Russian, I can't read it.”

He hums in acknowledgment, pressing one final button and then a switch, and then pulls a lever, and the aircraft takes off. It's faster moving than you thought it would be. After 20 minutes, the Soldat engages the autopilot and then turns toward you with his hand out. You hand him the folder, and he reads through it, eyes scanning over every detail. He takes a few pictures out of the folder and gives them to you, one of the target, Stark, another of a metal briefcase, and another of the car you assume he'll be driving.

“Those men, they want what's in the briefcase?” You ask, flipping through the pictures again.

He hums again, “HYDRA.” And when you give him a questioning glance, he nods to the pictures and motions to the folder, “HYDRA wants whatever is in that case. A serum. It says here, retrieval at all costs,” he reads a few more pages before he puts the folder down, having gathered enough information.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Curiosity getting the better of you, and when he doesn't respond, you look up at him. There's a blank look in his eyes and his brows lower. He searches your face for a moment, as if trying to place it. He shakes his head no, and you deflate

After a few silent moments, he looks at you out of the corner of his eye, “Dvornyaga,” your head whips around to look at him, “those scars. How…?” The question hangs in the air. Did he really not remember how you got most of them?

“I remember when I was 9 years old, and I climbed the tree in the backyard,” you’re staring out the window at the clouds that pass, running your fingers over the newest scar you can’t heal from. “Mama and my brother, Aiden, always used to worry I’d fall out and hurt myself. Papa used to laugh and say, ‘Well at least she’ll learn to land on ‘er feet,’” you let out a sad chuckle. “I did fall, sprained my ankle, and got a really big gash on my leg ‘cause I landed on a rock.” You turn to him and lift your pant leg, “It healed in a few days, and the scar never showed.”

The Soldat’s brows are pulled together, the question in his eyes as they scan up your leg - which is now littered with scars - and back to your face.

“The silver stops me from healing all the way. Everything they do to me stays on my body like a morbid reminder. This is a reminder of what I am and how I got here.”

You pull the zipper of your tact suit down to your navel, exposing the skin and standing to show him the biggest scar you had. Its jagged edges to the left of your belly button is about 6 inches long, “You shot me with a silver bullet once, all because they told you to do it. It was after you brought me in, the night they killed my family. The doctors dug it out with silver tools. Sometimes, I can still feel them burning me from the inside.”

—

It was late in the evening when you and Soldat reached the interception point. Hidden behind a treeline from the main road, you sat behind him on a motorcycle. One he stole from a bar a town over. He may have broken someone's nose to get it.

“I still can't believe it's 1991…” You shuffled the newspaper in your hands. On the corner near the bar was a newspaper dispenser, and you didn't hesitate to take one as you walked by it. “So many things have happened. So many things I've missed…” your hand scratches at the silver collar around your throat absent-mindedly. You've gotten so used to it that it's like a second skin.

“Where are we again?” You've asked this question multiple times and have received no answer each time.

He sighs heavily, hands tightening on the handlebars, “It doesn't matter. Now be quiet,” he hisses the last bit out in Russian. A sign that tells you he's fed up with you talking so much.

Another hour rolls by, and you're about to say something else when a car drives by. You recognize it as the same one from the photos.

“Hold on,” is all he says in warning before the motorcycle comes to life and Soldat speeds away. You scramble to hold on, newspaper flying into the wind and arms circling his waist and gripping tight. He speeds up to the car quickly, pulling up to the passenger side he winds his metal arm up and punches the side of the vehicle, a tire blows out as the car struggles to stay in its lane, but fails and crashes violently into a tree.

The Soldat skids to a stop and backtracks toward the car, shutting the bike off and stepping off. The skin from your elbows to your fingertips ripple, fur coming forth, and claws extending as you follow behind the metal armed man. He forces the trunk of the car open, the metal straining with the force. There lies the briefcase, and when he opens it, 4 or 5 pouches of glowing blue liquid are inside.

“All of that,” you gesture to the car wreck, “for these?” You look up at your companion, and he just gives you a silent side-eye. He shuts the briefcase and goes to grab it when you hear a car door open and someone falls out with a pained grunt. You both share a look before you round the car.

There on the ground in a bloody, disheveled heap is none other than your target, Howard Stark. Soldat makes his way over to the injured man. You right behind him, claws bared. Stark is whimpering in pain, and when the Soldat fists a chunk of silver hair in his hands and pulls Stark to a kneeling position.

“Pl-please, my wife,” he grunts heavily, and his eyes focus up to the Soldat, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “S-sergeant Barnes?”

Barnes? Who..? And then the Soldat brings his metal fist up, but you stop him before it could make contact. He glares at you, and if it were anyone else, they'd be running away as fast as they could and putting as much distance between him and them. But you aren't afraid of him. You give the Soldat a pleading look, and he drops his arm but doesn't let go of Stark's hair.

Stark winces as you peer around your grumpy companion, his hand going up to try and gain purchase on the hand, gripping him too tight. He eyes you warily, grunting in discomfort. You're sure he has a few broken ribs, maybe a sprained arm or leg. It's definitely a broken nose.

“He called you Sargeant,” you say. “Do you know this man, Soldat?” He doesn't respond, only glaring down at you when you step closer to Stark. When you get close enough to smell him, you take a few inhales, circling around the back of him and stop. He doesn't smell unpleasant, all things considered. He smells musky and metallic; probably from the blood. But there's something else on him, something pleasing, and it makes you hum.

“Ho-Howard?” A strangled cry comes from the car, and your head swivels around at the sound, eyebrows lowering. Another person?

“My wife, please, please,” Stark pleads, and you make your way around the car to the passenger side. The door is jammed shut, and you give it a few hard tugs before it finally creaks free.

The woman, Stark's wife, is bloody and broken but alive. She looks at you with wet eyes, big and round, as she chokes out a sob. Her cheekbone looks shattered, maybe a broken arm and a few bruised ribs. When you lean in to rip the seat belt from her, you smell it again, that pleasing scent that was also on Stark. You hum quietly, claws easily tearing the seat belt from her body, and she sags. You catch her and her fingers flex in your forearms.

“What are you doing, Mutt?” Soldat asks, letting go of Stark and stopping you in your tracks.

“What - your arms,” she lets out a quiet gasp. Oh yeah, fur, oops. You hum again, nodding when she looks up at you. You shrug and help her out of the car. She leans all her weight in you, and you support her around the car toward her husband.

“Helping. They're hurt, Winter,” he flinches at the name, and you go to move around him, but he stops you again. A growl starts low in your chest when he doesn’t move.

“No witnesses,” his voice is low and demanding, but you won’t be swayed. There’s something about these two that tugs at something inside you. You have to know what it is. The woman lets go of you, and you let her crawl towards her husband, and they embrace, hands fleeting and worrying about one another.

“No one has to know,” you reach out to him and place a hand on his chest, but he flinches back out of your reach. “I’ll stay. Take the package and leave,” you say for only him to hear. “HYDRA will think they died, maybe me too…”

“Did you say HYDRA?” Stark asks. He and his wife are still kneeling on the ground, and he straightens up a little when the Soldat turns to glare at him. “you've been with HYDRA this whole time?”

“You know him. You called him Sergeant,” You crouch down to their level and give him a reassuring smile.

Stark nods, eyeing the man over your shoulder, “Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th. He is - was - Captain Steve Rogers best friend. He was my friend, too. Barnes fell from a train in the Swiss Alps, and Steve was devastated. We all thought he died," Stark looks up at the Soldat again, and you turn to look at him too. “I'm sorry, Bucky.”

“Who the hell is..?” You mutter to yourself. The Soldat, Barnes - or whoever he is - starts breathing heavily, eyes wide and unseeing as he takes in Stark's information. “Winter..?” You stand and take a cautious step towards him, his eyes cut to you, and there's something in them that makes you pause.

You've heard of Captain America and his sacrifice. But you don't know the details, or maybe you forgot them. You take another step towards him and stare up into his eyes. They seem distant and lost.

“Bucky?” You ask hesitantly. His eyes soften slightly.

“Dvornyaga,” he brings his metal hand up to the side of your face, palm resting on your neck. In one swift movement, his fingers clasp around the collar and crush it. A small jolt runs down your spine, and then the pieces of offending metal are in scraps on the ground.

Your eyes glow bright, and it’s like a thousand pounds has been lifted off your shoulders. The tears well up big and fat in your eyes before you laugh, digging your fingers into the tact vest of the man who has freed you. The tears fall freely when you blink and look up at him, “Why did you do that?” You hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and squeezing as tight as you could. His arms stay at his side, but he can smell you now, and he remembers. Maybe only a sliver of a memory, but it’s there.

“Petal,” he says softly.

“Stay,” you say into his neck, but he shakes his head no. He pulls you away and walks toward the trunk of the car wreck and shuts it, leaving the briefcase behind, and then takes out his pistol. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end, and you shuffle in front of Stark and his wife. He raises his gun and shoots, shattering a security camera not even 10 feet from you.

“I'm not him,” he says quietly, “don't think I ever will be. But I can try.”

He nods and makes his way to his motorcycle. As he speeds away, you have a small thought that you hope to see him again one day. Maybe you could find out who this Sergeant Barnes is, or was, together.

——

Howard and his wife, Maria, were wary but thankful that you intervened and saved their lives. Admittedly, you also had a part in their crashing, but they had other things to worry about at the moment.

When you offered to run and get help, Howard had worried it would take too long, but you assured him you were very quick.

“Let us go with you,” Marisa insisted. “Our son, he'll be so worried, please?”

You aren't sure how you've kept your humanity for this long. If the year was right, and you're sure it is, you've been mostly Shifted for 30 years. Give or take, with the way HYDRA kept you and tortured you, you weren't sure the details. You noticed your mannerisms were more dog-like now than you used to be, but Howard and Maria didn't seem to notice as they limped together while you guided them back to a main road.

“You stopped Sergeant Barnes from killing us. Why?” Howard breaks the silence after a while. “Why? Aren't you with HYDRA as well?”

Why did you? You just had a feeling? Because you could smell something on him? You don't even know what it is.

“I- I don't know,” your brows pinch together as you wait for them to catch up to you. There’s headlights heading towards your group, and you step into the street with arms raised. The car pulled to a stop, and you ran to the driver's side. “please, my - they - uh, they need help. There was an accident. Can you take them to the nearest hospital? Please.”

The man behind the wheel relents, and you help Howard and Maria into the back of the car, shutting the door behind them. When you step back and walk away, a voice calls out to you.

“Wait, aren’t you coming?” Maria has a look of worry on her face, and when you go to tell her no, tears gather at her waterline, and you sigh.

—

You sat in the ER waiting room, Howard had been checked out and sat with you while he waited for his wife. His arm was in a sling, suit jacket long forgotten and slung over your shoulders. His face was cleaned up only slightly, small amounts of blood under his nose remained, but at least it wasn’t broken anymore. There’s a dark bruise forming on the side of his face where it met the steering wheel, his brows pinch together as he studies you, hazel eyes flicking around your face.

“I never did get your name,” Howard says quietly, fingers fiddling with the strap of the sling around his other arm. You hum softly, tugging his jacket tighter around you. It smelled like him, and Maria. But there was just something else there, hidden in the fabrics of the jacket you couldn’t put your finger on.

A young man comes barreling into the ER waiting room, skidding to a stop and heaving gulps of air as he spins around frantically. His dark brown hair is a poofy mess on his head, like he’s been pulling at the roots. The dark red hoodie he wears has the sleeves pulled up over his elbows, and dark gray baggy sweats sit low on his hips. Howard also notices the young man and goes to stand, but lets out a grunt of pain, and you shoot up to help him stand. He puts his uninjured arm over your shoulders, you place a hand on his ribs, he takes a limping step forward, and you guide him.

“Tony,” Howard calls out, a little strained. The man - Tony - whirls around at Howard’s voice, and his eyes go wide as he rushes toward you both. “My son, Tony,” Howard says to you, and you nod. Tony comes to a stop in front of his father, and you let him go to take a step back. Tony is tall, not as tall as Howard, and they both tower over you.

“Dad, what the hell?” Tony says in a panic. He takes in the sight of Howard, reaching his hands out when Howard staggers a little. “What the hell happened? Where’s mom?” He cranes his neck to look around the waiting room, and his eyes find you, eyes narrowing slightly, “who is this?”

Howard places a hand on his son's shoulder, calming him with a quiet hush, “she sav - helped your mother and I. There was an accident,” he pats Tony's shoulder and speaks over his protest, “we're fine, just a few scraps and bruises. Really.” A minute later, Maria is wheeled out, her wrist has a brace on it and the gash on her forehead has a few stitches, but she looks a lot better than she did when you arrived. You sigh in relief.

“Tony,” Maria sounds relieved, “oh my boy,” There's tears welling up in her eyes as her son rushes to her side, helping her out of the wheelchair and hugging her carefully.

When Howard makes his way to his family, you feel an ache in your chest. Sure, you're happy they're together, and you did what you could. But you miss your family, miss your brothers, and maybe you miss Bucky as well.

You slip the jacket off your shoulders and drape it over a chair, and make your way towards the exit. There's nothing left here for you now. Might as well find somewhere to lay low for a while. Outside there’s a well-dressed man leaning against an expensive looking town car.

“Hey? Hey!” A voice calls out behind you, and when you turn to it, it’s Tony rushing towards you, “wait, please.” He stops in front of you, heaving a sigh and running a hand through his hair. “I just uh, I wanted to thank you. For helping my mom. And my uh, my dad,” he rubs the back of his neck. “so, thanks. Really,” he sticks his hand out, "I'm Tony, by the way.”

You look from his face, to his hand, and back again. “I'm… I-“ your brows pull together. Why couldn’t you remember your name? The only word that comes to mind is the one HYDRA gave you. And you can’t tell Tony your name means mutt. You let a whine escape your mouth when you can’t think of anything, a tear escaping your eye as it slides down your cheek.

“Oh God, don’t cry, miss, I’m sorry!” Tony places his hands on your shoulders when you almost crumple in on yourself. He brings you a little closer when you let out a sob, and you cling onto the front of Tony’s hoodie. He has one arm slung around your shoulders, and the other hesitantly pats your head, trying to be soothing. You take a deep inhale, and you freeze. Something in you seems to right itself, like everything was only ever leading to this moment, and you lean your head back to look up at Tony’s worried face.

He smells like everything right, like sunshine after it’s rained forever. It’s the scent you couldn’t place on Howard and Maria. It makes your heart stutter and your stomach fuzzy. Everything is warm, and it overtakes you, moving up your chest to your face. He smells like home. And you haven’t had somewhere to call home in so long. The ache almost overwhelms you.

His brown eyes scan your face, and he brings his hand up to wipe away a few tears. His finger tips leave a trail of sparks in their wake as they move along your face. Did he feel it, too? Tony’s lips part slightly in surprise, and his eyes seem to light up when he drags his eyes to yours. Those pouty pink lips curve up at the edges, and he's looking at you like you're not real.

“You,” you breathe out, “you're mine.” It’s whispered into the space between you, and Tony leans his forehead against yours. Your fingers tighten into his hoodie, and he hums.

“What is this? Why does it feel like,” Tony brings a hand up to rest over your heart. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, his nose brushing against yours. “like everything suddenly…”

“Like it all makes sense now?” You ask, heart leaping into your throat when he hums again as his nose brushes against your cheek, and he grins.

“You smell like flowers.”

****

Thanks for reading! Feedback is welcome, like comment and rb! <3

#what if...? imagine #mcu fanfiction #shifter!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x shifter!reader #young!Tony Stark x reader #mcu imagine

20 notes · View notes