#*cocks gun* get in the fridge

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

hot take fridging is a perfectly valid storytelling device. even if the fridged character is a woman. even if the character she was fridged to motivate is a man. carry on.

[localkiss]

Pray to Leon, He's Your God

pairing: kidnapper!leon x f!reader

cw: creampies, afab terms used, pet names galore, ooc leon, mean and desperate leon, power abuse, degrading, praising, god complex, religion, praying during sex, ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, dumbification, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of stalking, implied drugging, nipple play, somno, rape, hickey's, squirting, aftercare, las plagas mentions, control freak Leon lol, absolutely nasty dirty talk, spit kink, oral fixation, Ashley/Spain mission mentions...lmk if I missed anything >_< !

wc: 3.5k! hehehee a shorter fic for rn !

tags: @rigorwhoring @adiorxia @angelstargel @leonkennedygvrl @dilfstar @leonsdolly @dollfacefantasy @bonnibuckets @bunnyclaire @bwruisedkiss (tagging some moots :3 sry if u don't wanna be tagged gahhhh)

a/n: i didn't proof read much .. didn't edit much .. so um ignore anything weird. If it's messy n awkward uhhh GO WITH IT OK. 😮‍💨

“Baby,” he coos in your ear. Soft and sweet like he loves you. “open up.” Coaxing your mouth open for his thumb to slip inside.

The strange man dotes on you like a long-lost lover. Your brain is too foggy to even remember where you had met him if you did that. Tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you roll your head to the side, blinking extremely slowly, taking in the room around you.

A desk with a computer, two monitors and a gun lays on it. A couple of knives and a pack of gum too. You swear you can make out your panties and bra that went missing a few weeks ago on his desk as well. Makes you frown slightly.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth and wipes the saliva on your lips, dragging it across your cheek. Like he's dragging his cock and tapping it all over your face. Get you all messy.

You swallow thickly, head swirling, body feeling heavy and numb all at once. Tears pricking your eyes as you lay beneath the dirty blonde in confusion.

“Who..” is all you can croak out, blinking the water down your cheeks.

“Shh baby… relax. I'm here to take care of you like you should be taken care of. Mkay?” He murmurs soft and sweet. Wiping away the tears.

Only then do you realize you're naked and he's only adorned in his boxers. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up? You don't even know what day it is or the time.

Weird as it is, you find yourself relaxing under his guidance, mimicking his steady breathing.

“Want some water, honey? Just stay here and be a good girl for me, alright?” He kisses your forehead, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from his fridge. Coming back with long, quick strides. “Here, sit up and open your mouth.” Helping you sit up against the pillows.

Slowly pouring the water into your mouth. Pulling away as soon as it fills up, watching you drink it. Repeating this step a few times before he sets it next to his bed.

“Good girl.” The man hums, patting your head like you're a dog.

“Mm… who are you?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, asking the question hesitantly.

“My name's Leon, baby. Do you not remember me?’

Shaking your head, he sighs. It's not like he expected you to remember him. The two of you met briefly at some sort of party and once the both of you were drunk, you got all handsy. Wanting him to fuck you in his car.

That was like right after he got back from his mission in Spain too. He swears Ashley didn't fully kill off the plagas in his body with the machine. It's whatever. What doesn't kill him only makes him stronger, he thinks. Unless this possessive, obsessive, need for you is something else. But then he doesn't want to end up like Major Krauser, all mutated and weird. He hopes it's something else.

“S’okay. We met a couple of times at a few parties. Got to know each other a little bit and slept with each other. And you gave me your phone number… here we are.” Maybe he's lying. Maybe he's not. You'd never know the difference as it feels like it's mostly true. Which it is. But he certainly didn't get your number through legal ways.

“Okay, Leon.” You mumble, limbs barely moving as you try to turn to your side. Wanting to rest a little bit.

“Wanna sleep, baby? Cuddle up with daddy?” He coos down at you, warm hands shifting you around and pulling the blanket over the both of you. His warm toned body is behind yours as he cradles you like a baby.

Soft kisses planted on your cheeks and one on your neck. You feel your face get red hot as you nuzzle into the pillow. “Mmh,” replying to his first question with a soft grunt.

Leon hums, “Goodnight baby girl. Sweet dreams.”

You don't even bother replying. Not like you could as you find yourself instantly asleep. Feeling his warmth behind you lulls you to your dreamscape.

Not long after you fall asleep, Leon kisses his way down your body. Maneuvering you to lay on your back. You sigh and open your legs, rolling your head to the side.

He sucks on your nipples, not biting down hard enough to wake you. Just to tease your unconscious body. Swapping between the two and massaging the other one he doesn't have his mouth on. God forgive him, for he cannot wait any longer.

Trailing a wet path down to your pussy, he moves the blankets up over you both. Making sure you're nice and warm as he feasts on you. He's not going to deprive you of your rest and warmth. Leon's not that big of an asshole.

“So pretty. Pretty fucking juicy pussy. All mine.” Kissing and nipping the skin around your vulva. Leaving light marks for him to enjoy later on.

Leon kitten licks your clit, groaning as he tastes you on his tongue. Tangy but so fucking good. Heaven. God created you for him, he's sure. Kissing all over your pussy, tonguing around your opening as he feels your body automatically flutter.

It's like she knows who owns her already. That got him smiling as he licks you open slowly and teasingly. Eyes fluttering shut as he immerses himself in the feeling and warmth of your body wrapped around his head.

He sucks on your clit, gently biting down on it. Wearing it down as he takes turns licking into you and sucking on your clit like a hard candy. If you were a flavor, he'd always buy your flavor. Make it his cologne, his soap, his detergent. So he can always be enveloped in you. And only you.

Slurping up your juices as he pulls away. Kissing each thigh tenderly, as his hips rock against the bed. Tasting you makes him harder than obsidian.

That night when he got your panties and bra after you guys fucked in his car drunkenly. He held them up to his nose and sniffed them so much, that people would've thought there were cocaine remnants in them.

But no, he was just addicted to the way you smelled and tasted. The way you cried on his tongue and begged him to just fuck you already. To stop teasing you.

Did he fuck you until you saw white? Yes, very much so. Until you squirted and made his arms bleed? Yep! He even went so far as to make you cum so much you couldn't even remember his name, just, “daddy, daddy, daddyyy!” Until you became a sobbing mess for him.

Of course, he gave you what you wanted the most though! His cum deep inside of your cunt. Multiple creampies. You truly emptied his balls. Couldn't get hard for the next couple of days. Truly washed over his libido to a much calmer state of mind.

He hovers over you, making sure to bring the blankets over his broad shoulders. Shifting his boxers down low enough to get his cock and balls free. Slowly rubbing up and down your slit with his tip. He lets out a soft groan, pushing into you and gritting his teeth to not wake you up from how loud he wants to be.

“Hail Mary, full of grace…” he begins slowly, “The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Fuck.. Holy Mary, mother of—fucking—God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death.” Leaning his head down into the crook of your neck. Repeating it again and again in his mind, louder and louder each time. Drowning out all the white noise in his ears.

Maybe it's just tinnitus but he thinks it's the plagas trying to invade his mind once more. He justifies his actions by blaming it on a virus infection. Your pussy is his fix. Only if you were just a bit more submissive like you were when you were drunk, maybe he would think of you as somebody he should kneel to. To worship.

“Amen. Amen, God fucking damn.” Leon rocks in and out, matching the pace of your breathing. He moans into your ear, gripping the fat of your hips before moving his hands to push your legs up to your chest. Immediately putting you into a mating press.

Licking and nibbling on each part of your neck that is exposed to his eyes, he mumbles sweet praises to your sleeping body.

“Yeah, good girl. Taking this cock so well, hm? Yeah?”

“Fuck baby, pussy squeezin' me like she doesn't wanna let go of me.”

“Mmm.. shit. Wanna make you mine. My wife. I'll get to do this to you every day. All y’gotta do is just lay there and be pretty f’me princess.”

“Yeah, yeah… take it. So fucking cute seeing your expressions and feeling your body enjoy me while you're asleep. You thinking about me baby? Dreaming about me ruining you in your sleep while I do it in real life?”

You try to shift around in your sleep and furrow your eyebrows. Letting out a low whine as your eyes roll around before opening hesitantly. “Mmph.. Leon?”

“Awwh, good afternoon sleepyhead.” He coos down at you, peppering your cheeks in kisses, rubbing up and down your sides. “Did daddy's dick wake you up?”

“Yeah,” you flutter around his length, barely processing what's happening. Only feeling full of him and his warm body pressing you into the blankets. Hands clutching onto his firm biceps weakly, digging your blunt nails into his pale skin.

Leon laughs cruelly, his hips rabbiting into your squelching heat with vigor. Half moaning into your ear, his hot breath tickling you faintly. “Shit. Look at me, baby. Who owns you? Let me fucking know who owns this pussy.”

Whimpering, your toes curl as a heat wave of embarrassment rolls down your spine. “Unhh… you do.”

He clicks his tongue at you and stops his hips, fully deep inside of you. “That's not who I am, princess. Now say it again or I won't fuck you.”

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, that's me. Now, use your big girl words and tell me who owns this pussy baby.”

“Daddy owns this pussy. Daddy owns me…” you squeeze your legs against his sides. Impossibly tight around his cock, earning a groan from him. Nails were almost close enough to draw blood from his arms.

“Good girl. Such a smart cookie, yeah? All it took was daddy having to be a bit firm with his baby.” He presses his lips to yours, capturing you in a messy, feverish kiss. Teeth clashing as he starts to thrust in and out. Tongue swiping all across your mouth, letting you suck on it briefly before he pulls away.

One hand holding up his weight, the other one squeezing your lips together. Dipping down to spit into your mouth. Smirking as he hears your little noises of pleasure.

“Knew my baby would like that. So dirty.” He moves your face up and down, forcing you to nod. “Look, you're agreeing with me. Such a slut, eager for her daddy. Mhmm…”

Leon's lips are the only thing you can focus on. Besides his dick, of course. “Daddy,” you spread your fingers around his face. Like you're in awe of him, putting them into his mouth curiously. “please?”

He gently bites down, licking and sucking on your fingers playfully. Dark oceanic eyes narrowing and analyzing you. “Baby wants my fingers in her mouth?”

Bingo. You don't even have to respond, just the look of surprise in your eyes is enough for him. He presses a wet kiss to your palm and wrist. Slipping his thumb into your mouth as he speeds up his hips.

Cock jumps inside of you as you close your eyes. Sucking on it with fervor makes him swallow a whine of his own. God, you'll bring out the desperate whiny side of him someday.

He'll still dominate you through the whines and whimpers, of course. Can't let his precious baby try to top him. It'd be so cute.

Watching you fail and beg for daddy to take over. He'd let you try though, but he'd know he'll forever be in charge. Just lending you the ‘power’ for the moment.

“Mmhhf baby. Don't do that. Daddy's gonna shoot his load inside you early. We wouldn't want that. Ain't that right pumpkin?” Leon hums, pushing down on your tongue with his thumb. Enjoying the way you drool around it and bite on it like he's some sort of oral stress relieving toy. Or gum. Not that he minds being your fix to your oral issue.

You loosely have a grip on his arm, sort of not wanting him to leave your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes up at him, he presses his forehead against yours. Lowering his body so that he can barely pull out of you.

“Sweetheart, let daddy hold himself up with his other hand. Wanna play with your cute cunt. Make you cream all over this dick.” He pry’s himself out of your mouth, replacing it with his lips on yours. As he brings his other hand down to press tight and fast circles against your clit.

Lifting up so he can watch you fall apart on him. “Good girl. Such a sweet girl, letting her daddy do whatever he wants. Hmm? Isn't that right? Yeah,” he kisses your forehead tenderly.

At this point, you're babbling out nonsense. In your mind, you are agreeing with him. Out loud, you're saying, “daddy please.” As your walls squeeze around him tight like a vice.

He doesn't want to be too much of an asshole and make you use your dumb puppy brain, but there's a part of him that needs you to beg him to let you cum. Make you call him a God.

‘Please god, let me cum, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.’ Something along those lines will do it for him. Fill that womb up with his sticky white cum.

“Want daddy to let you cum?” Leon's gonna slowly fade into it. Have you wrapped around his little finger. Just as he is wrapped around your body like a snake does to its victim. To its food.

“Uhuh, please daddy. Wanna cum,” you mewl out shamelessly. Tears gathering up in your pretty beady eyes. Goddamn, you look gorgeous.

“C'mon puppy. Use that pretty little brain and beg daddy correctly. Daddy'll even give you a hint, baby doll. Beg for God, because aren't I the owner of you? The one who fulfills your dreams, needs, and wants? Hmm?” There's this crazy look in his eyes. Black little veins popping up in his skin, looking similarly to a dead person. But it's also fucking hot how he looks so psychotic and desperate for you. And only you.

“Daddy—God, mmmph… please let me cum. Please!” Can't help the moans escape as he smacks his fingers against your swollen, sensitive bud. Your fingernails attach themselves to his chest, dragging red welts down to his abs. Feeling them flex as he groans in pain.

“That's right bunny, that's right. Cum for me. Cream all over this fat dick,” he purrs as he spanks your clit extra hard, in time with a deeper and harder thrust.

Watching you as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth going slack. Holding you still as you tremble as you thrash around, orgasm still ringing around your body hard. Seeing you like this beneath him has his own climax running up on him. But he wants to make you watch as he fucks his cum into your womb.

“Baby,” Leon shushes, pressing faint kisses around your temples. “Look at me. Watch daddy's cock go in and out of your pretty pussy. Look at how daddy's stretching you out, baby girl. There's even a little bump from daddy.” He lifts up so you can look down between the two of you comfortably.

Still pulsing around him, he pushes down on the bulge. Listening to your cute little squeals of overstimulation. “God's gonna give you a baby now. Say, thank you, God. Thank you Leon for blessing me with your seed.” He half moans half chuckles, giving your cheek a couple of soft slaps.

“T-thank you God—Leon please… bless me with your cum…!” You sort of get it right. It's not like he's a stickler for how you say things or actually, repeat them back to him. Leon likes the control. So all is well.

He chants your name, rabbiting his hips even harder now. Eyes closed and forehead against yours. Whining as he gets closer and closer.

Leon groans as he feels your pussy greedily sucking him in. His hand immediately starts to rub your swollen nerves. “Gonna make you cum again and then I'll pump you full of it.”

You cry out, kicking and scratching at him. “S’too much! Can't cum again!” Lies. All lies.

“You can take it and you will take it. C'mon puppy. Know you can do it for me,” he coaxes another one out of you. Albeit slower this time.

Syrupy goodness coats your brain as you hiccup his name, going frigid beneath him. Oh, there you have it. Sprung a leak around his cock. You can't help but scream and hold onto him tightly. Cunt practically pushing him out because of how intense this one is.

The sight of you squirting uncontrollably has his cock kicking and spurting his hot, thick semen in your insides. Slowing his movements down he moans.

It's like it's never ending. Maybe Leon was backed up for a while and is gonna get you pregnant with triplets. Feels like it with the way he keeps pumping you full.

“Good girl. Good job. So good for me, mhmm… gonna keep you plugged up. Make sure it takes, yeah?” He coos soft and sweet, whining pathetically as his dick softens. All sensitive now.

Leon sounds so good, you think. All desperate for you.

You hum, blearily watching him maneuver the two of you around. Slumping against his chest, his warm hands soothe your sides. Giving him a soft kiss on his chest in reply. Too fuzzy-headed and dumb to even form an actual response. Not like he wanted one, it was probably more of a rhetorical question.

“That's it, baby. Rest on my chest. I'll clean us up once you're ready.” Giving the apex of your head a long kiss, he wraps his muscular arms around your frail, trembling figure.

Slowly pulling you into a deep slumber. With rainbows and sunshine.

Possibly an hour or two goes by and you wake up to warm water soothing your aching muscles. A soapy sponge rubbing your front side. Leaning back into him, you relax and let him do his thing.

“So pretty baby,” he sighs, grabbing a cup and slowly pouring it over your soapy body. Being careful not to get your face wet. “Does this feel nice?”

You nod immediately, scratching your scalp for a moment. Scooting away from him, grabbing your hair and giving him a good view of your back. Silently asking him to wash it.

The soapy sponge gently runs into your skin, over your shoulders and arms. Dipping down to your lower back before carefully going around your neck. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head once more. Washing it all off before he lets you lay there against him.

Can't help but yawn and stretch. This is going to make you fall asleep again! “Daddy. Want to go to bed.”

“Hmm.. okay. Let's get you out of here. Daddy'll put you in the cutest outfit.” He grabs the towel and wraps it around you. Drying you off before he dries himself off. “Lift your arms for me.”

You close your eyes sleepily and lift your arms, feeling him tug a loose shirt over your head. And you instinctively lift your foot, allowing him to put panties on you and pajama pants.

Opening your eyes you see that it's Hello Kitty. Biting your lip, you watch Leon get dressed. Quietly zoning out on his chest.

Leon picks you up bridal style with ease. Despite you being a little chubby, he acts like you weigh like nothing.

“Snuggle close to daddy, sweetheart.” He sets you down, pulling the covers over the both of you. Reaching down to grab a stuffed animal he had under his bed. One he bought in advance. Thinking you'd like it.

It's a cute little shark! Leon puts it next to you as he wraps his arms around you securely. “Sweet dreams baby.”

“Sweet dreams daddy.” You mumble in return, putting the shark in your arms as you snuggle into his warm chest with a huff.

Maybe next time he'll force you on your knees and make you worship him. And if you don't do it right, he'll baptize you with his special white liquid until you immediately submit to him. To praise him as a higher being. But, first and foremost, he's your daddy, before he's your God.

[hellsbedroom]

call out my name

pairing: winter soldier!bucky x f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: as an assassin for hire, you often worked alongside the Winter Soldier. immediately after the events of CA:TWS, that soldier shows up at your doorstep needing help. and he thanks you in a very particular way

warnings: 18+, nsfw, brief mentions of violence, mild alcohol consumption, heavy petting, hair pulling (m receiving), p in v, porn with actually a lot of plot, angsty ending because i couldn't help myself, google-translated romanian

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The frantic knocking at your front door shouldn’t be happening. Even though Hydra’s secrets had been blown open a couple days ago, your name wasn’t mentioned anywhere. Mercenaries’ names never are. So how could anyone find you?

You slow your breathing to counter the adrenaline as the knocking rattles the hinges again. Clutching your gun tighter, you throw the door open and aim into the night.

The barrel lands against a man’s chest and takes you both by surprise. You pull the gun away when a familiar pair of blue eyes blinks back at you from underneath a ballcap. His face isn’t one you ever expected to see again, especially after the carnage in DC.

“Soldier?” You’d never known him by any real name.

“Can I come in?”

“Am I gonna get killed for it?”

He glances behind him and tugs his backpack tighter. “Not if I’ve done my job.”

That’s enough of an answer. You wave him in with the gun still cocked in case it’s a trap. But after you lock the door, you turn to find him staring at you and all at once the gun is no longer necessary.

His eyes are different. You’d seen them empty, you’d seen them focused, you’d seen them angry, you’d even seen them lust-blown as he thrusted into you in some alleyway after a mission. But you’d never seen them scared.

And he is terrified.

“I need your help. I have to get away.” Vigilance strings his shoulders taut and you wonder how many sleepless nights had led up to this.

“Okay, my cover’s not blown and I’ve still got my contacts. Is the west coast far enough? Canada?”

“No. Farther.”

“London’s pretty big.”

He grips your forearms in a flash, gruffly pleading an inch from your face. “Somewhere they can’t find me.”

The intensity freezes you for a few moments before you nod. Wordlessly you cross the room and rummage through papers strewn across your desk. Identities, informants, any connections you still have. Anybody they can’t get to.

“Does Romania work?” You proudly hold up some papers with illegible scrawls. “I can get you out at dawn.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

His sigh of relief leaves you comfortable enough to grab a couple beers from the fridge. Might as well drink when it’s clear that he’ll stay the night. But when you try to hand him one, he’s staring off into space and doesn’t seem to notice. You aren’t the best at comforting people, especially not Hydra’s former war dog, but you clasp a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He snaps back into the moment, nodding in thanks as he takes the beer and opens it with a simple flick of a metal finger. He rubs the other hand down his face, dragging away the last of whatever thoughts had distracted him.

“Yeah.” He still stands resolute in the center of the room, even as you sling yourself into a chair. “Sorry for grabbing you. I just—”

“It’s alright, Soldier. I’ve been roughhoused before.”

“It’s actually Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name is Bucky. I didn’t know that for a long time. Hydra’s doing.” He sinks onto your couch, still weighed down by the revelation.

You immediately sit up straighter, the gears in your head trying to make sense of it. The whole story comes out with just a bit of prodding. World War Two, his capture, his fall, Hydra’s brainwashing, all of it. You sit in stunned silence through it, nodding in support every now and then. He finishes after the second round of beers and checks the magazine of his gun from force of habit. You do the same, then venture with a question itching to be answered.

“Do you remember anything you did?”

“Some of it. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t...I didn’t want to stop it.” A guilty silence follows and you hear the distinctive whirring of his metal arm as he clenches his fist.

You laugh to lighten the mood. “Hey, that’s better than me. I chose to do this shit and got paid for it.”

Bucky nods solemnly, staring down his empty bottle. Then he flicks his gaze back up to you. “I also remember you.”

“On a mission? Marrakesh was pretty memorable.”

“Yeah. But I remember us doing some other stuff, too.” A smile ghosts his lips for the first time that night.

Memories of him sucking angry marks into your neck as you writhe on his cock come flooding back, making you cross your legs. You clear your throat and try to seem nonchalant.

“I hope that’s not something the brainwashing made you do,” you joke.

Bucky’s eyes are sharp as knives as they cut across the room. “It wasn’t. And I didn’t want to stop that either.”

“Oh. Good.”

The next silence thunders with anticipation but you don’t push your luck. Instead you focus on clearing away stray dishes and papers, flitting back and forth and trying to remember how to play hostess. You cross in front of Bucky and easily lift the bottle out of his hand. But before you can step out of reach again, he takes your arm.

This time his grip is gentle, nothing like the way he’d ever touched you before. You swallow thickly and dare to meet his gaze.

“Yes, Soldier?”

The gentleness is abandoned as his mouth crashes into yours. You knock off his ballcap in a rush to card your hands through his hair, desperate to have him closer. It’s all practiced and familiar, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and his teeth nipping at your lower lip.

His scruff burns against your jaw and then he’s kissing in its wake, lips and teeth devouring down your neck as his hands dive under your clothes to brush at your waist and hips. The skin-to-skin contact lights you on fire and you help him lift off your shirt in a flurry that’s followed by his own jacket and shirt. The fleeting moment spent apart is enough for you to catch your breath and shiver at the desire swirling in his eyes.

You collide into his chest again, wasting no time in dragging him backward with you toward somewhere, anywhere sturdy enough for support. It’s like you’re back in Mumbai or São Paulo or Kosovo, desperate to find a pleasurable release at the closest available location where he could grind his hips into you. This time it happens to be your kitchen island, a throne of granite onto which Bucky lifts you and your legs easily split, letting him settle between them and pull you so that his bulge presses just so against your core.

You're grabbing his shoulders — clutching flesh and metal — and that familiar coolness of his titanium arm curving around your back brings heat pooling between your legs. He captures your lips in an eager, fluid motion, tongue darting out to graze yours. Expert at killing, expert at kissing. The tendrils of his long hair tickle your forehead just like you remember.

With the usual haste and fervor, you grind against his solid hips in search of friction and he obliges by slipping his hand down to rub through your pants.

Soldier...you nearly moan, but stop short. You don’t have to settle for this kind of quickie. He isn’t just Soldier anymore, and you aren’t under the pressure of a mission.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his lips, grounding him to something besides what you both once were. “Bucky, wait…”

He slows down, his grip moving to your thighs, two heavy palms weighing down on you. Then he looks up slowly — his gaze could crack you in half. There’s a vulnerable tenderness in his eyes, clouded over by the bewilderment of what being Bucky once was.

“Bedroom,” you order gently.

“What?”

“Let’s do this in the bedroom.”

He has a lot of unlearning to do after so many years of Hydra control, so maybe you can help him with this one thing. You aren’t sure why you want this extra layer of intimacy, but it feels right.

Your insistence makes him wary. His eyes dart around, calculating whether or not this, too, is an attempt to capture him. Anyone could be in on it.

“It’s not a trap, I promise,” you coax, holding your hands up. “It’ll be better like this. I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t move as you slide off the island, brushing against him and letting the moment linger. You leave your eyes locked on his as you turn and take a few inviting steps down the hall, not abandoning the gaze until his doubts subside and he follows you.

The sparse bedroom is suddenly alive with electricity as you kiss him again to pick up right where you left off. Your grip dives into his hair, pulling in the way you remember makes even the stoic soldier moan. The liplock is blinding and his hands mold to your waist and hips and everywhere, keeping you close as the last of the clothes are haphazardly tossed away. Once you’re bare it’s a short stumble onto the bed and he falls on top of you with his metal arm braced in the unmade sheets.

Somehow Bucky looming over you, sinking down with every delectable muscle, is more breathtaking than the Winter Soldier fucking you senseless against a brick wall that digs into your back.

You don’t get a chance to catch that breath before his hand snakes down to toy with your clit, expertly coating it with your slick with a particular brush of his finger that he knows works so well. The gasp wracks your chest — you’d been ready for this since he admitted remembering every salacious encounter — and you almost give in then and there.

But where’s the fun in that?

Your thighs are locked around his hips and you swiftly flip on top, sitting up to settle on his lap. You’re naked, with no chance of hiding weapons, so he quickly relaxes and focuses on how new this is. Studying your form, from draped legs to raised brow. His hand lifts and you catch it in sync, bringing it up to your breast where he rolls your nipple instantly, carefully watching the arch of your back in response. Bucky is nothing if not a quick learner.

He’s hard, aching underneath you, and the tug in your core calls for the same thing. He helps lift your hips and you brace on his chest and then you’re slowly sinking down on his length to draw out the sensation.

It’s a pretty thing to watch his lips curl as he hisses out your name — your real name, not just one of your aliases — and your own sigh flies out when you reach the hilt. You take a few moments to adjust and then start rocking to an inaudible beat. Or maybe that’s your heart thrumming with pride.

It’s different this time. Everything is still eager and strong and deliciously satisfying but this isn’t just a convenient tryst. That has its time and place, like a muggy Havana afternoon after a vicious shootout. This time there’s something in the way Bucky rubs along your thighs while you lean in close, the rhythm of the thrusts keeping you just out of reach of his lips and yet leaving you anchored to those blue eyes.

He cradles the nape of your neck, watching your face morph in pleasure while the tension builds. You can’t help kissing him then and there and everything winds tighter and tighter until the climax takes you, your open mouth grazing against his as bliss washes all over. His name is a whispered prayer from your lips.

Your stuttering hips drag him into the throes a moment later and his gasp rushes past your cheek. A moan rumbles through his chest and you collapse on it, daring to smile as you breathe him in.

God that was good. The two of you still have it.

You unceremoniously roll off and into the sheets before another thought strikes. You’d never had to deal with Bucky in the moments after a good fuck. You always went your separate ways down dimly-lit alleys or out of a jungle. But here he is, stretched out beside you, with no prerogative to leave until morning.

Apparently the same thing was on his mind because he suddenly sits up and tugs a weary hand through his hair. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No.” You catch his wrist before you know what’s happening. “It’s alright, stay. You need a good night’s sleep. Getting to Romania is gonna be a hell of a ride.”

His eyes sweep over you but there’s no wariness this time. Instead he blinks slowly, giving a half-smile as he settles back down and pulls the covers up. It’s quiet for a few moments, comfortably so, and his arm brushes yours without pulling away.

“You should come with me,” he finally says, voice raspy with sleep and sex. “You need to get out, too.”

It isn’t the first time that thought has crossed your mind but it suddenly feels much more serious. A real chance to escape. Your fingers trace the sheets and mattress below, a place to lay your head that you had never really called home. Of course you have a bag packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice, every good mercenary does — but are you ready to be on the run? To live your life at the whim of whoever finds you in every city?

Bucky has already dozed off beside you, his gentle breathing interrupted by furrowed brows and an occasional shake of his head. He has no choice but to run, though you doubt he’ll outrun the nightmares anytime soon.

Sleep does its job of lulling you, too, and you decide to make your choice in the morning.

***

Two Years Later Bucharest, Romania

The rusted faucet gives a weak stream of water but you still rinse off the dishes, watching stray peelings and seeds whirl down the drain. Big bowls of fruit are your staple breakfast now that you have the time to enjoy them.

The apartment is silent except for the gentle ceramic clinks, with Bucky having stepped out to the market next door to pick up more plums — the favorite household snack.

As ex-assassins, calling your arrangement “dating” feels childish. You and Bucky sleep in the same bed, fuck regularly, cook each other meals, watch each other’s backs, and take turns cleaning the arsenal of weapons. So whatever the term for that relationship is, that’s what you have. You need each other.

With the dishes clear and reading to catch up on, you step into the bathroom in the back of the apartment to grab a clip for your hair. Can’t have the locks in your way when novels await.

You hear the front door open and a smile tugs at your lips. “Ce mai faci?” you call. (How are you?)

The Romanian greeting is part of yours and Bucky’s precautions — a code for when one of you reenters the apartment, just in case. You expect to hear the coded answer: Voi fi mai bine mâine (I will be better tomorrow).

But there’s no reply. Only muted footsteps toward your kitchen.

Your heart slams into overdrive. There’s a handgun hidden under the bathroom sink and it’s cold in your grip as you level it at the door, cautiously stepping into the small hallway. No one is immediately visible but your senses don’t fail you. Someone’s there.

“Reieşi!” you spit. “Come out!”

Still no answer but a careful shuffling of feet just out of sight. You hunker at the wall for only a moment and then fling yourself around the corner, barrel first.

Standing by your refrigerator with arms warily raised is Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. You recognize him from both the news and Bucky’s attempts to piece his life together. He cocks his head in surprise — whatever intel had let him here, it hadn’t mentioned you.

But he keeps his voice steady as he breaks the silence. “Where’s Bucky?”

You don’t answer. It’s pointless to lie, since he somehow found the apartment, but you know better than to tell the truth. You can’t claim ignorance anyway — the unwavering handgun in your grasp says otherwise.

You stare back in silence and take a couple calculated steps forward while trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Despite the proximity Steve lowers his arms, correctly guessing that if you haven’t shot yet, you won’t do so without warning. Killing Captain America isn’t exactly the best way to keep people out of your life anyway.

“I just need Bucky. People are coming for him.”

That raises goosebumps along your arms. It makes sense, Steve only finding him when someone worse is on the way. You’re about to demand more answers when footsteps reach the outside of your apartment and pause, no doubt noticing the door slightly ajar.

“Ce mai faci?” It’s Bucky’s strained voice trying the code. Then he more urgently adds, “Esti in siguranta?” (Are you safe?)

“Da,” you call quietly, keeping your eyes trained on Steve. “I’m alright, Bucky. We have a visitor.”

Bucky carefully treads in, his eyes darting between you and Steve and the gun in your hand. The air stings with confusion. But eventually he crosses to you and closes his hand over the barrel to make you lower the gun, and not even your incredulous gaze changes his mind. He simply nods and runs his hand down your back. Trust me.

He pushes a newspaper into your lowered hands and you look down at the words plastered across the top: ‘Winter Soldier Bombs UN Headquarters’. The newspaper crinkles in your tightening grip. Underneath the headline sits a photo of Bucky’s face, clear as day, when it isn’t possible for him to have been there. You’d come out of hiding to vouch for it yourself.

But that wouldn’t matter, you know better. The little world that you and Bucky carved out is caving in fast.

“Do you know me?” It’s the intruder, his gaze no longer fixed on you or your weapon but on his long-lost friend.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

A pause. Steve clenches his jaw. “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

He pauses again as the comms unit crackles in his ear, probably warning of the distant commotion now rumbling up the building from many floors down. You sneak a glance at Bucky and the grim set of his mouth.

“I’ve got him here,” Steve says into his radio. “He’s with someone. Unclear whether she’s a hostile.”

He clips that last part at you, demanding your intentions as you still bristle at him. But you don’t get a chance to threaten him again before Bucky steps in front of you.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore. Neither does she.”

“Well the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive,” Steve adds, the gravity in his voice sinking deep into your chest.

“That’s smart, good strategy.”

Bucky’s right. Special forces are always taught to eliminate a threat, not wait for heroic negotiating. That doesn’t happen in the real world when real consequences are at stake. A rattling shakes the staircase outside your apartment door, the telltale sign of heavy men and heavy guns on their way. You quickly realize that whether or not Steve is on your side, he’s a better option than what’s waiting out there.

Steve softens. “It doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”

Bucky takes off the glove concealing his titanium hand, flexing the joints and heaving a sigh. He looks at you and tips another nod. Get ready. You grab another magazine of bullets for your gun.

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky murmurs.

“That’s why we ran, you know. To try and stay away from the fight.” You cock the gun, staring Steve down. Blaming him for this situation is wrong but damn it feels right. “But when it comes to our door we have no choice.”

Steve gets agitated, glancing between you and Bucky and trying to piece it all together. “Bucky, you pulled me from the river. Why?”

Bucky stays still. “I don’t know.”

The thundering footsteps get closer, louder and louder like in every nightmare you’d had about being found. You walk to the windows, looking for any trace of the enemies no doubt rappelling down the building at that instant. There are more weapons hidden on that side of the room anyway, and you gather what you can.

“I hate to break this up,” you quip at the men behind you, “but we can’t keep standing here playing high school reunion.”

“She’s right, Buck. We have to go.”

“She’s coming with us.”

You spare Bucky a grin over your shoulder. Of course you’re going with them, but it’s good to hear him say it.

Steve steps closer, faint warnings still being yelled into his comms unit. “They aren’t looking for her. She’ll be safer away from us for now.”

That makes your breath catch. Arguing with Steve will make the oncoming fight that much more difficult. You turn, a sneer already waiting on your lips, but Bucky once again interjects. He catches your shoulders and his gaze sinks deep into yours.

“Steve’s right.”

“What?”

“They’re after me for the stuff in Vienna. You need to get out.”

“Bucky, I’m not —”

Crash! Grenades come flying through the windows, shattering the tension with shards of glass. You knock one right back out and Bucky kicks the other to Steve, who covers the blast with his shield. Bucky is two seconds ahead of you and lifts the mattress to cover you both from a third grenade tossed in. The explosion is hot against your back and your muscles tremble. With his free hand Bucky throws the steel table at the door, blocking it and buying a few minutes before the tac team can bust through.

Rappelers burst through the windows and Steve kicks one down, his gunfire raining into the ceiling instead of your flesh. You return fire to another, clipping his knee and shoulder, while Bucky yanks the third and knocks him against the wall. Two more come swinging in — your adrenaline kicks up another notch — and a scream grates your throat as you land a few good punches on the closest one. You hadn’t fought for your life like this in a long time, but it’s a skill that comes back quick as lightning.

Bucky dashes over to Steve, forcing the other rappeler out of his grip and onto the balcony with a swift knee to the chest.

“Buck, stop!” Steve calls. “You’re gonna kill someone.”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” Bucky grunts. Floorboards splinter under the force of his punch and he pulls out his backpack before tossing it onto the roof of the adjacent building.

You take a respite from watching for more assailants and step over downed bodies to reach him. The other backpack lands heavily in your hands and despite the chaos, the rest of the world briefly fades when Bucky drags you closer.

“Go, you have to get out!”

All air vanishes. “No. I’m not leaving —”

“Please.” Bucky’s voice is small against the rushing of blood in your ears. His iron grip pulls you toward the windows and he hands you a rappelling rope. “I’ll find you later.”

You know there’s no choice. And arguing further will put everyone in danger. You attach the rope to yourself and the balcony, still pulling Bucky with you as you back onto the ledge. Shotgun blasts at the hinges of the door across the room draw Steve away and you know this is your last blessed moment alone.

Whatever version of Bucky Barnes this is — the man out of time, the assassin, the shell of a vintage hero — you don’t care. This version is yours, and you love him.

You kiss him, hard. He returns it with fire, his hand tangling in your unkempt hair. A sad smile creeps onto your lips when you pull away and Bucky nods solemnly. One gentle push later and you drop from view.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME,

-GOTHAM!VICTOR ZSASZ X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You find Victor in your apartment after hours.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!victor x female reader. ESTABLISHED (but unclear?) RELATIONSHIP!! stalking. obsessiveness. Could this be considered angst? victor pining for reader. silly victor. as fluffy as victor zsasz can get. (I can’t look at this GIF without seeing zsasz)

♫ “Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me / Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me” Dream a Little Dream of Me by Mamas and Papas

You come home as you do every night. And every night, he is there. Waiting for you. A small apartment in the outskirts of gotham- he’d prefer it this way. Keep you away from the action. You don’t mind.

Your keys sound out as you arrive. With a click, you open the door to the familiar dark place. You softly close it behind you, the only light in the room flowing through an open window. The curtains breeze gently, and you can see the light from the gothamite billboards outside. Wind and rain surround you- the cold wetness blowing into the apartment. You sigh.

Your gaze follows the light- and stumbles upon him.

You see him leaning against the wall, still in his usual work attire. His dark eyes are locked with yours, the rest of his body leans into a casual pose.

"Well, well, well. Little late, aren’t we?" He says, voice monotone as ever.

He doesn’t smile, scanning you head to toe. His eyes still not changing their expression one bit.

“By five minutes.” You whisper, looking at the clock. He just hums in response. He makes his way to the kitchen and digs through the refrigerator. You huff.

"Five minutes too late, babe," His voice remains calm and unconcerned as he rummages through.

“Sorry.” Is all you say, a bit pathetically. “Didn’t think you’d stop by today.”

This gets him to stop violating your refrigerator. He slowly steps back, closing the door. He clicks his tongue.

“I always stop by. You got a frozen pizza or something? I’m starving.”

“…No. But there should be take-out in the fridge.” You raise your eyebrow, moving closer to him to peer into the fridge yourself. Once again, his eyes never leave you.

A smirk grows on his face as he watches you analyze the fridge.

“Nah. I ate it five minutes ago. If only you were here to stop me…” He trails off, wagging a finger at you. You sigh and back away, looking at him exhasparated. His boots are muddy- and the rain from the open window leaks into your carpet, and you roll your eyes.

“Then starve.” You mumble under your breath, and his smirk only broadens. You want to be more mad at him, for making a mess of your apartment, but he looks at you like a lost puppy dog. So full of…love in those dark eyes.

You sometimes forget this place is his only escape. You’re almost positive he’s deluded himself into thinking he lives here. Not that you mind, of course. Well- maybe a little bit, whenever it smells far too much like gunpowder.

He once made a joke about leaving his toothbrush here after your first hook-up. You’re begginning to realize it was hardly a joke. Especially now that you two are what he calls, “going steady.”

“You know you love me.” He drawls out, approaching you carefully. He circles you, head cocking mischievously. He comes up behind you, and stops. He wraps his arms around you, and squeezes tightly. You feel his guns press into your hip, and the sensation is strangely familiar. Comforting.

He breathes into your hair, cradling you like a child. He gently rocks into you, smelling you. He sighs at the scent, gloved hands roaming over your body.

You two stay like this for a moment, him enjoying the rain. You still need to close that window. You find yourself shuddering at how handsy he is, melting into him. All the tension in him fades away.

“Where were you?” Is all he asks, and you let out a sharp intake of breath when you feel his hot tongue glide across your jaw. “Those five minutes…” He mumbles, slightly shaking his head.

You almost laugh. You want to think he’s teasing you, but a deep part of you knows he isn’t. He wants to know. He’s crazy, you think, and you love it. Over a five minute late arrival. Heh.

You answer him by shifting in his hold. He looks deeply into your eyes, gloved hand coming to hold your cheek. He looks down at you, mouth just barely agape; awaiting a real answer. All you do is press a gentle kiss to his lips, and he stays silent; eyes closing in pleasure at the smallest touch. You decide to finally give him what he can’t seem to just ask for. Reassurance.

He watches you sleep that night, your body curled up into the blankets. He knows he looks like a creep right now, but you look so beautiful. And he needs to look after you. Protect you. God, he thinks, you need to lock your windows.

He doesn’t know if an hour or, god forbid, five minutes has passed. He’s just been watching you. He sighs to himself as he feels his phone buzz. Could be anyone; the boss, Wendell, one of his girls letting him know their ready for the next hit. He decides to finally bid you adieu, but not without great difficulty.

He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Still sound asleep, he mutters.

“Nightie-night.” He huffs, humorlessly.

He’s not even sure who he’s saying it for at this point.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

[boolger]

The desk ☆ dark!price x cat hybrid!reader

afab!chubby! reader. No use of Y/N. 

hi hi, lets ignore all of my wips. This lil thing will be Price's pov first, then reader's.

read the tags. MDNI.

☆rating: explicit. ☆ length: 1k word.

☆tags: dark!John Price, dark!141, hybrid!reader, non-con, dub-con, dead dove dont eat, referenced kidnapping, torture, spanking/non con spanking, non-con drug use, mention of stockholm syndrome, r*pe, oral sex, p in v, afab reader, reader has a pussy, chubby reader, punishments, mention of death and suicidal thoughts. 

☆Summary: Reader is chained to Price’s desk and despite her many attempts, she hasn’t had a successful escape attempt yet nor has the captain grown tired of her, as she had hoped.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

She had been chained to the desk for a while now. At first, it was mostly a bother to John himself. The amount of times she had fought him was just as frustrating to him, as to her. Couldn’t she see that it was for her own good? She didn’t have to worry about anything in here, she had what she needed. Once she behaved more, she would earn more privileges. For now, however, his office was her home, the desk the center of the world. 

At first, she made her frustrations known both verbally and physically. Hissing and pulling at the chain constantly, clawing at the nice - and rather expensive - wood, leaving marks that he doubted could be fixed. Hell, his soft girl even managed to make the desk move with her fits. 

A feral little thing she was. Even if Soap argued there was nothing small about her, while looking at her with loving eyes, not even bothering to hide his staring at her ass and tits. Ghost and Gaz weren't any better.

Alas, the office and desk was her home until she earned back the privilege to live in his quarters on base once more. The scar on his cheek was almost healed by now. Her claws really needed to be clipped. Maybe just removed. Would save him a lot of trouble.

The first week, John had spanked her so many times that he was convinced the bruises on her big ass would be permanent. His hands at first, until they became sore and clearly weren't enough - belt then, which seemed to be the way to go. A couple of times he even belted the soles of her feet, making his princess crawl.

His princess, his pet, his kitten. His Fae. She didn’t particularly like the name he had chosen for her, but pets didn’t get to decide their own names after all. The owners did.

Eventually, she learned to behave. Or, at least behave better than before. 

It wasn’t too bad. He tried explaining that to her several times. She had what she needed here. A soft pet bed that was big enough for her to sleep in, the chain was long enough to move freely in the bedroom, there was a little fridge with food and he - or one of his boys - came with food from the canteen regularly unless on a mission. She had clean clothes, neatly folded and cleaned for her. Panties? why would she need those, stop asking. Those were a privilege as well. Bloody hell, Price even got her a nintendo DS that she could play on when he was in meetings and didn’t need a cock warmer.

No, no, Fae was perfect. Her mind, even if stubborn, was brilliant. Her cunt was perfect, her mouth too, despite her struggles. Especially after they filed those pesky fangs of  hers away. Her ears were pretty, tail always soft to the touch. 

Perfect little pet. The chain was just necessary for a while. Until stockholm syndrome set in.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You were in hell. 

One moment you were living your life as a free woman, the next you were kidnapped by some psycho military man - and his team was just as crazy as him, laughing in your face whenever you begged for help.

He, “Captain John Price, luv, your new master”, had threatened you with a gun before and several times these last days, you couldn’t help but think that you should have made him shoot you. It would be better than this. Sure, you would die, but you wouldn’t be chained to a fucking desk anymore.

You would be free. Not wearing a fucking collar with the name Fae on one side of the heart shaped tag and the words ‘property of Captain John Price’ on the other side. There was a little bell attached to the collar as well, every movement exposed to whoever was nearby. 

“could be worse, luv. could have given you a shock collar, eh?”

… maniac. 

The chain was connected with a big padlock, to a metal cuff around your ankle. You were pretty sure the metal cuff had been welded around your ankle when you had been drugged, though you couldn’t remember exactly. It was connected to the desk that you wanted to burn to the ground. It was giant, wooden and with locked drawers and sharp edges that dug into your skin and left bruises whenever he bent you over it and fucked you.

It had place beneath it for you to sit on a pillow, either just being a cockwarmer for the man or getting your throat fucked so hard you cried.

Worst thing? you were getting messed up from being there. You weren’t even sure for how long you had been with the captain in total, but it had been a little over two weeks in the office, chained to the desk by now.

One sign of that was that you were beginning to like him. Or at least, tolerate him more than any of his bloody men. They hadn’t been allowed to fuck you yet, sure they had fondled you, but nothing more than that and you could kiss Price for it. Fucked up as it was, you would prefer to just be his fuck toy and pet, than any of the others. 

Price knew this, he had figured you out pretty quickly, because of course he had. Threatened you to let them take turns on you, while he fucked you over the desk, tits pressed against the papers while you squirmed on his fat cock and mewled with pleasure. Begging to just be fucked by him, letting your love for his cock spill, saying he was the only one who had ever made you feel this good. 

Still, you weren’t messed up to the point that you didn’t want to run. It was just a matter of time and then you wouldn’t be chained to this fucking desk.

[sheluvslani]

Not What It Looks Like Pt 2

Summary: See pt 1

Pairing: Ghostface!Amber x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, language, knife, mentions of murder, strap-on sex, mirror sex, degradation, praise, choking, blood, spit 😋

The person above you held down your legs with theirs and used their left hand to pin both of your wrists down, leaving you helpless and unable to move. It’s not like you could’ve done anything for that matter, you were frozen in place. 

“Please, don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface…” You managed to stutter out as you stared into the gaping black holes of the mask, looking for any signs of mercy.

Ghostface slowly cocked their head to the side, trailing the knife down the side of your face. The blade made contact with your skin as you winced, a trail of blood spilled out. The mix of the cold air and open wound sends a shiver down your spine. The blood dripped down your cheek, dark red splotches drying on your tanned complexion. 

You felt the weight of the person above you pressing against you, the hardness of the item in their pants pressing against the soft flesh of your thigh. You didn’t know if it was a gun or something else. You hoped it was the latter.

The thought alone made the heat between your legs intensify.

No. Stop. It’s literally a fucking serial killer…

You snapped out of your thoughts when the knife made impact with the floor beneath you, cracking between the individual planks. 

The deranged killer above you slowly reached up to grab their mask, pulling it over their head. When it reached over their mouth, they flashed you a wide, toothy grin. Once they pulled it over their head, you were shocked. You felt your stomach drop. 

Amber.

Amber Fucking Freeman.

Your girlfriend. Slaughtered 2 people and you were pretty sure you were going to be the 3rd. 

She wiped the dried blood off your cheek, the softness of her touch distracting you from the fact she killed people with those same hands. “Darling… my pretty girl…” She whispered as the hold on yur wrists loosened slightly. 

No. Cut this out. It can’t be. 

You struggled to get up, Amber’s strength unmeasured against yours. She gripped your wrists harder, her nails dug into your skin. 

“Amber, cut it out. Let me go.” Your eyes turned glossy as you stared into hers, eyes wide and boring into yours. Any sane person would fight for their life in this moment but you couldn’t do anything. Amber was the person you trusted the most, but she’s the same person that’s been 

“Y/n, it’s not what it looks like-”

“No. Let go of me, you’re a monster” Her eyes softened with hurt as she looked down at you.

“I did it for you.” And then your world stopped. Amber softly stroked your cheek as she continued.

“Jason Carvey. It was only meant to be him. When I broke in the apartment, Gary was there playing with some random fucking Ghostface mask. He saw me, charged at me, and I ended up stabbing him. I started panicking, there was blood everywhere. I didn’t know what to do with his body. So, I cut him and stuffed his body in the fridge. They had a huge fucking collection of Stab shit inside the closet, I grabbed a Ghostface mask and costume and put it on. And then Jason came back after, I slit his throat. I left him in the living room floor. I threw away the mask and grabbed another, a clean one.”

She threw the Ghostface mask behind her, careless to wear it would land. 

“Jason fucking Carvey. The bitch couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He knew I was dating you, he knows that you belong to me, y/n. When I killed him and Gary, I felt… alive. The thrill that rushed through my veins… was so delicious.”

She yanked the knife out of the ground, the sound of the cracking floor rang in your ear. She softly whispered in your ear, her hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, “You’re mine, y/n. And I will do anything for you. I would kill a thousand men if they dare to take you from me.”

The knife in her hand trailed down your throat, your breath hitched as she cut another slit. Fresh drops of dark red blood pooled in the hollow of your neck, making you feel warn and lightheaded. Amber eyes flashed with lust and desire as she flattened her tongue against your neck, licking it up. The action alone made you moan, sending another gush of arousal down in between your legs.

Amber let go of both your wrists, leaving minors bruises that you know what be purple and blue in the morning. She slashed open your blue pajamas, the pieces of fabric being removed from your body. She let out a teasing moan as she saw the wet spot in your underwear. 

“You’re such a fucking slut, y/n. You’re soaked and I haven’t even touching you, it’s like you’re practically begging for me to touch you.” 

She crashed her lips into yours, her tongue swiping against your bottom lip as it begged for your permission. It made you groan and Amber seized her moment to insert her tongue. Her tongue danced along yours, her moans vibrated in your mouth, sending butterflies to your stomach. 

After a while, she pulled away with a heavy breath, a string of saliva unraveling itself from where your lips were previously occupied. It made you whine from the loss of her warmth when she stood up, but she shushed you and got up on her knees. She took off the robe, revealing a white wife-beater and basketball shorts beneath it. That hard object you felt in her pants earlier was indeed not a gun, it was a strap-on. 

And fuck, it was huge. 

When she slipped out of her shorts, it sprang against her stomach. The cool, black plastic stood at a good 9 inches in length. The thought of taking such a huge object made your mouth water. She stood up, towering over you as you still lied on your back. 

“On your knees.” She set the knife down on the bedside table. 

You quickly sat up and got on your knees, feeling small and vulnerable in this positon. She stared down at you, the look she was given you made you whine and rub yout thighs together to relieve your aching clit. She stroked the length, agonizingly slow. She spit on the shaft, lubing it up with her warm saliva.  

Fuck, you weren’t about to fuck a serial killer… Right?

But you couldn’t resist. Not when it’s Amber. 

She held the tip in front of your mouth, coaxing for you to take it into your mouth. You gladly did, slowly sucking on the tip of the cold, hard plastic. Amber slowly rolled her hips in and out of your mouth, groaning at the sight of you being so needy for an inanimate object, it was like a game to her. She gathered your hair into a ponytail and started thrusting the strap-on in your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat with every thrust, making you moan around the length

.

She pulled you off, a wet ‘pop’ escaped your lips from how hard you were sucking her off.

“Good girl,” she groaned as she helped you up and bent you over the bed, moving you to whatever position she pleased as you did nothing to stop her. 

She loomed behind you, hands on your hips as she gently coaxed you to look at yourself in the mirror adjacent from the bed. “Such a pretty girl for me to use, huh? This pretty pussy is all mine…” She gently teased your clit with the tip of the strap-on, making you squirm and arch your back. 

“Fuck, babygirl. You don’t know what you do to me.” She smirked before carefully sliding her strap inside your pussy. She slowly rolled her hips, it’s like she was toturing you with this agonizing pace she’s set. 

“Fuck, Ambs… that all you got?” You looked over your shoulder with a smirk, hoping that’ll get you somewhere. 

She looked dead into your eyes, hers turned dark in less than a second, like a light switch turned on. She started pistoning into you, the bed creaked with each thrust, you were afrid it was going to break.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 

Every thrust made you gasp for air, your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

She started playing with your clit, rolling it in between her pointer and thumb. It made you moan into the sheets, tears pricking out of the corners of your eyes. She pressed her hand into the middle of your shoulder blades as she positioned her strap to go deeper into you, the length pressing a small bulge into your stomach.  “Please, please, please.” The words  played in your head over and over again like a prayer. 

She moved her hand from your back to grab you by the throat, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your back was pressed against her front as she whispered in your ear while making eye contact with you through the mirror. 

“Fuck… you’re such a slut, y/n. My dirty little cockslut, begging for me to fuck you like the whore you are.” She emphasized the last few words with extra hard thrusts, making your eyes roll back in your head from the sensations. She attached her lips to your neck, sucking a hickey on your pulse point. 

“Please, Ambs… ‘m gonna cum..” You whimpered out as she pounded into you. 

“Cum for me, babygirl.” She rubbed your clit faster and moved her other hand from your throat up to your breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers. 

You came on her fingers with a cry, your legs shaking and trembling as she gently coaxed you to lay down on your stomach. She gently rubbed circles on the small of your back as she placed tiny kisses on your shoulders. After you regained some strength, you flipped over on your back, crashing your lips with Amber’s. She gratefully accepted and eagerly kissed you back. 

She pulled away with a smirk on her face, picking up the knife from the bedside table. She pressed the blade against your neck, gripping the handle hard enough for her knuckles to turn white. 

“You wouldn’t tell anyone, right?”

[writing-my-time]

Daddy Ain't Home

Images taken from @boydholbrook-fan's gifsets, and pinterest x

Pairing: Clement Mansell X F!Reader Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: 18+, Smut with plot, age gap (Reader is around 19 to early 20’s, Clement in his late 30’s/early 40’s), swearing, morally dubious actions, coercion, unhealthy power dynamics, oral (m/receiving). Reader has grabbable hair, but otherwise nondescript. Summary: When your dad’s so-called ‘friend’ needs to stay at your family home for a few days, using the excuse of “in-between” places, you find his incredibly forward nature hard to resist. Your temptation only worsens when your dad goes to work Author's note: My beautiful babies have been SO sick. Needed to be a full time Mama for a bit but now I’m back in action!

The older you got, the less sure you became of your father’s previous lifestyle. You’d grown up relatively normal, but the occasional tale he’d tell after a few beers often left your imagination running wild. He’d speak of something far darker than youthful tomfoolery; recounting memories of guns, cash, and deals gone wrong. At some point in his life, your dad had turned himself around, leaving whatever rough and tough lifestyle he’d had behind. Today, he’s a blue collar man with a family, in other words, completely unspectacular. Sure, he’d become a friendly face in the neighborhood, shoveling snow and fixing gutters, but other than that, the peers of your parents wouldn’t exactly blink twice at the man. Which is why when his ‘old friend’ stops by uninvited, it opens a can of worms you never thought imaginable.

It’s past midday, you know that much. You’ve only been back a week, in your family home in a remote town just outside of Detroit, having come back to enjoy the semester break without the bleak surroundings of your college campus. A small group of your friends never left; staying home to take over their parents’ business or wait tables. Still, having some friends in your hometown pays off. That is, until you’re nursing a headache courtesy of your latest reunion. In a place as small as this, everyone knows everyone; meaning that even in your less than perfect state, you can tell the blond man in front of you is an outsider. He’s standing opposite your dad in the middle of the kitchen, unintentionally blocking your access to any form of sustenance as you approach from behind. Bleary-eyed and weak-willed, you fail to recognize the brewing tension in the room, stepping around the stranger with a grumble.

“Well, shoot.” The blond nods in your direction, cocking his brow as you manage to stumble past. “The apple sure doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

There’s an audible huff from your dad, and you reach the fridge as he grabs the stranger's arm and hauls him into the living room, slamming the door behind them. If you were sober, you’d be outwardly surprised by your dad’s aggression. Right now your sole focus is to hydrate using whatever bottle your hand grabs first. Judging by feel, you’ve picked up some type of juice; gulping it down greedily right from the lip of the bottle. As the sweetness trickles down your throat, you feel a morsel of the raggedness from your night before wear away. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you drag a hand down your face, taking note of the mascara very much still crusted against your lashes. Apparently you had come home coherent enough to get into bed, but not enough to get your makeup off. Just as you’re about to make your return to your room, the sound of your father’s hushed muttering permeates the closed door.

“Absolutely not.” He grumbles, saying something else but you can’t quite make out the words. “Clement, I won’t-”

“-Don’t forget now,” You can hear the other man loud and clear. “You do owe me a favor.”

A prolonged silence follows. One which is only filled by the sound of your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. This time, you fight the haze just enough to get a better read on the conversation going on in the next room. Hearing the clearly strained resignation of your father come through the door, you decide to hover in the kitchen a little longer. Whoever this Clement character is, he’s got intimidation down to an art.

“You can be here for one week.” You’ve never heard your dad sound so defeated. “That’s all. One week.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The southern drawl of the man rumbles through the door. “You always had to be so serious about things.” 

��Just don’t bring my family into it, yeah?”

“Now, now. Terrorizing families was more your style.” Clement clicks his tongue. “I will be on my best behavior, of that you can rely.”

Your brows furrow upon hearing what appears to be the end of the exchange. They’ve come to an agreement; one you don’t truly understand considering the ominous accusation thrown your father’s way. Your dad, a terror? The man who mows old ladies’ lawns on the weekends for nothing more than a cup of tea and a sandwich? That’s enough eavesdropping for one day, you decide, shaking your head. You begin your retreat, eventually climbing up the stairs toward your room.

Neither of your parents had changed anything about your room since you had left. You still had the same gaudy palm tree wallpaper your mom had picked out, only saved by the amount of band and movie posters you’d covered it up with. All the furniture was the same as it was, too. A mix of things your dad had either built or bartered for over the years, leading to an eclectic mess of clashing styles; something you’d come to miss when your dorm room was nothing more than a bed and a desk. Your shins meet the foot of the bed, and you flop down face first onto your pillows. Still in the throes of a hangover, now layered with the strange pit of uncertainty embedding itself into your stomach, you tuck the blanket up above your head and fall asleep.

—

It’s early in the morning when your dad knocks gently at your door. Of course, you’d slept the entire day away; a habit you aren’t exactly happy you’d picked up while at college. You slowly peel yourself out of the blankets, sitting up as your dad steps softly into your room. Dressed in his usual work clothes of his boilersuit over a white t-shirt, you gauge that it must be almost time for him to leave. He’s holding your favorite mug in his hands, bringing in a coffee just for you. The thought is lovely, even if you both know you’ll forget about it until it’s already gone cold. Your dad sets it on your nightstand before kneeling down beside your bed. There’s a reserved look in his eye, one you aren’t sure you’ve seen before.

“Morning, princess.” He speaks softly. “Thought I’d say hi. Since I didn’t see much of ya yesterday.”

“Sorry, dad.” You mumble, looking away in shame. It wasn’t like you to drink so hard that you wasted an entire day. “I think I went too hard.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re young. It’s good that you’re having fun and still coming home safe.”

There’s another flicker of something in his eyes when he speaks. Despite his kind reassurance, you can tell his mind is elsewhere, perhaps reminiscing on something. His nose scrunches for a brief moment, and you shift slightly under your sheets. You watch as he presses his lips together, evidently trying to find a way to word his thoughts.

“I need to let you know, we have an old friend staying with us for a week.” He explains with a smile. A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “His name is Clement. I knew- I’ve known him since before you were born.”

“How do you know him?” You ask him quickly, watching him shift his weight on either knee as the question rings through his mind.

“You know, that’s a good story.” Your dad pulls back just as quick, sucking in air between his teeth as that forced smile reappears on his face. “Maybe just not when I'm leaving for work, yeah?”

In response, you nod, earning a kiss to your forehead from your dad. Since coming back home, he’d gone right back to treating you like his little girl, and the affection had been greatly missed. He pulls himself back up to a stand, brushing his knees before he looks at you one last time.

“He’ll be hanging around the house, but don’t feel like you have to keep him company, okay?” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for your response.

“Is that code for ‘don’t talk to him’?” You ask, receiving a pause in return.

“You can talk to him, just… don’t go outta your way to make him feel welcome.” He explains with a sigh. “I love you, honey.”

“Love you too, dad.”

His exit leaves you in a befuddled silence, pressing your lips together in thought. You stay in place as your father’s footsteps begin to trail off, eventually dulling once he reaches the bottom of the staircase. Minutes later, the house rattles ever so slightly at the opening and closing of the front door. Your father has left for the day, leaving you alone in the house with mystery man Clement. What you remember of yesterday’s overheard conversation lingers in your mind. How do they know each other? Why didn’t your dad want him to stay? And why does he owe him? In a rapidly-failing attempt to take your mind off of it, you pull the covers back over your face. Thoughts swirl around your mind while no answers come to call. Clement had claimed your dad had a terrorizing schtick. It just didn’t match up. 

Not wanting to give in to the oncoming spiral, you bring yourself to a stand. A shower will help. Or at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself as you close your bedroom door behind you with a sturdy thud. Lazily, you trudge down the hallway until you find yourself standing on the cold bathroom lino. After a few minutes of mincing around, you slip under the gentle caress of the showerhead. Streaming down your face, neck, and shoulders, the warm water does wonders in quelling your nervous mind. Even after you'd moved out, your parents still kept the bathroom stocked with boujee products far out of your price range. It’s a dramatic change from the discount bath and body works garbage you’ve got littering your dorm shower, and you smile to yourself as you lather the coconutty soap over your body. For the first time in what feels like months, you have a long, warm, relaxing shower.

Eventually, you force yourself out of the cocoon of warmth you’ve created in the bathroom, stepping out with a fluffy towel wrapped around your chest. The house is silent, eerily so. You wonder if it means that Clement had also gone out, leaving you alone for the time being. With light-footed steps, you pad along the hall back to your bedroom. Thoughts of having the house to yourself cause a dopey smile to paint your face, and you eagerly wrap your fingers around your doorknob. With the door ajar, a gentle push is all it takes to enter your room. You stride in, humming a tune under your breath as you seal yourself back in your bedroom once more. You’re about to peel the towel away from your dampened skin when a low whistle beckons from your bed.

“Ain’t that a pretty sight.”

You flinch and desperately twist your hands into the fabric of the towel, keeping it as close to your body as humanly possible. With wide eyes, you turn towards the graveled voice. There lies Clement, completely reclined on your bed, wearing nothing but what appears to be your father’s navy robe. He’s got one of your books in his hands, open on the page you had bookmarked and forgotten about a few nights ago, now. The older man isn’t shy in his staring, dragging his tongue along his teeth as he raises a cocky brow. He rests the book in his lap, allowing him to rest his now free hands on the back of his head, unabashedly ogling your towel-cladded form. There’s nowhere for you to hide yourself while the intruding man remains confidently splayed on your bed.

“What’re you doing in my room?” You ask, swallowing down the nervous lump in your throat. 

“Shoot.” He raises his hands defensively, though his eyes still sparkle with a dark sense of mischief. “Your daddy said to make myself at home, and I wanted a good book to read. Nothin’ downstairs caught my attention - but this?”

Clement holds up the open book, waving it around long enough for you to remember exactly where you had left off. Fuck. The arrogant smirk sprawled on his face isn’t just to revel in your scantily clad form, but also your perverse taste in literature. Very perverse taste. He clicks his tongue, pretending to make a stern face as he drags his slender finger along the page.

“This is definitely something worth a read.” The blond furrows his brow, reading the very extensive smut you had bookmarked for when you were alone. “You, you pretty young thing, are into some extreme shit.”

“Can you get out of my room, please?” You attempt to speak with confidence, though there’s something about him making you shiver.

“Why? Voyeurism not your thing?”

“Not really, no.”

“No?” He begins to climb off the bed, his tall frame already towing over yours as he begins to stalk towards you. “It didn’t seem so bad in your book.”

You shy your gaze away from Clement as he comes toe-to-toe with you. While none of his fingers touch your soft skin, there’s a clear intention swirling in the air. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as he chuckles to himself. It’s a dark, throaty chuckle. Creases form around his eyes as he laughs. Is it at your expense? You can’t tell. You barely hold your ground as he continues to talk.

  “Girl in your book liked older men. Wasn’t interested in boys. What about you, little lady? You like real men?” He runs his finger across the seam of your towel. “I think you just might.”

He’s not wrong, and unfortunately, your outward lack of fear towards his grotesque intimidation is only proving his point. There’s some part of you that’s enjoying this, perhaps it’s because fortunately, he’s not exactly unattractive. As he stands before you, his newly acquired dressing gown begins to slip open, and you find yourself admiring the tattoo decorating his chest. You know you've gotten lost in your own ogling when his finger begins to slip through the seam.

“My dad would kill you.” You try to slap his hand away, but he grabs your wrist just in time.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but your daddy ain’t home, sweetheart. He left you all alone.” His voice lowers into something akin to a growl, while his breath hits hot against your face. “With me.”

Clement’s hand travels away from your wrist to the back of your head, making a tight fist within your damp hair as he sneers. It sends an involuntary shiver down your spine, going as far as to make you gasp through clenched teeth. You close your eyes, not wanting his piercing gaze to make you squirm more than it already has. He lets out another breathy snigger, baring his teeth as he cranes your head back with ease. A weak exhale escapes your trembling lips.

“Knew you were into dark shit.” He hums in your ear. “This ain’t even that bad, little lady.”

Before you can respond, the man pulls harshly on your hair, sending you crashing to your knees in front of him. For a brief moment, he keeps you there, doing nothing but glaring down at you while his lips continue to curl into a perverse smile. Your eyes flit to his other hand, watching it glide down until it slips underneath the seam of his dressing gown. Slowly, tauntingly, menacingly, Clement pulls the gown open. It’s just enough for you to get an eyeful of his white briefs, and the significant bulge growing beneath them. His eyes stay focused on your face, watching with twisted delight as you wet your lips.

“See? I had a whole plan to convince you, and you don’t even need it, do ya?” Clement taunts with a low voice. “If only your daddy knew how easy it is to get you on your knees.”

He loosens his grip on your hair, knowing you won’t do anything other than sit pretty on the floor. Clement’s other hand now slips into the waistband of his briefs. Of course, he doesn’t bother to take them off, instead opting to tug the fabric underneath his balls and taking his twitching cock into his fist. Though his underwear left little to the imagination, he’s girthier than you anticipated. Your eyes are glued to it, observing the way his hand trails up his veiny shaft, then back down until it meets the unruly hair decorating his pelvis. A bead of sticky pre-cum glistens at his tip, and you stay transfixed on the image as he drags his palm up his shaft one last time. Clement clearly notices your ogling, letting out a breathy chuckle before he begins to push your head towards it.

“Go on, baby.” He urges, watching with bated breath as your lips begin to part open. “Put your mouth on it, yeah, there you go.”

You glide your tongue up the bottom of his shaft, dragging from base upwards until you wrap your lips around his tip. His sharp intake of breath is enough to encourage you further, eventually sliding your mouth down until you’ve taken him whole. As his hand steadies your movements, a low, satisfied hum leaves his lips, and you look up just in time to watch him throw his head back.

“Fuck, I knew just from lookin’ at your pretty face that you’d have a mouth on ya.” He grits out as you begin to hollow your cheeks, sucking him slowly yet eagerly. “Shit. Didn’t think you’d be this obedient. Like a fuckin’ dog, you are.”

Doing as you're told, you don’t change up your movements right away. Instead keeping a slow, languid pace. Each bob of your head creates a rich mixture of your own drool and his slick, letting his taste be savored on your tongue. He tastes of salt and sweat and musk. When you’re about to bob back down, Clement guides you by pushing on the back of your head, and forcing you to take him right into the back of your throat. Your nose is almost embedded into his pubes, causing you to splutter around him from the lack of oxygen. Even so, he doesn’t let up. Clement clicks his tongue, giving you a surprisingly affectionate look.

“Now that’s a sight I could get used to, little lady. Look at you, chokin’ on me.” He holds you there for just a second longer, before letting you lift your mouth off of him completely. A string of drool connects your bottom lip to the tip of his cock, and before Clement can speak, you’re already diving back in. 

This time, you don’t suck him with lazy strokes, no. As your lips wrap around his head for the second time, you hollow out your cheeks and wrap your hand around the base of his cock. Your mouth pumps in time with your hand, all the while Clement doesn’t shut up, grunting out praises, as he rolls his hips in time with your movements. He fists your hair again, keeping your head still for his oncoming onslaught of hard thrusts. Drool coats both his shaft and your lips, bubbling and spilling out of the corners of your mouth as he fucks it with enough force to make you gag. Tears prickle the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you keep choking on his length. He doesn’t stop, instead grinning as you continue to struggle around him.

“Keep your lips on me,” Clement rasps out, almost lost in the moment. “That’s it. That’s it, thaaat’s it.”

“Knew from the moment I saw you that I needed this.”

He squints his eyes shut.

“Knew that you’d give it to me.”

He throws his head back.

“Knew your daddy would make a good girl.”

He fucks himself down your throat.

“Good. Girl.”

Clement pushes your head back down to the base of his cock, holding you tightly in place with your hair as his hips begin to buck without rhythm. Your only other warning to what might be coming is the chesty moan that leaves his lips. You flinch as the hot, thick ropes of his release spill down your throat, coating your tongue with a salty, bitter taste. There’s no other option but to swallow it all, having his hand forcing you into position. Once the last drop is gone, Clement pulls you off him, eventually letting go of your hair entirely. As if nothing had happened, he tucks himself back into his briefs, and re-wraps the gown, covering his body once more. You look up, slightly dazed as air finally makes its way back into your lungs. With your lips pink, wet, and parted, you must be a sight to behold - earning a cocky chuckle from Clement.

“Thanks, little lady. Just what I needed to feel welcome.” He grins, swiping some of the drool off your bottom lip before heading towards the door.

“That’s it?” You can’t help but feel short-changed, watching as the man exits into the hallway.

“For now,” He states, dragging his fingers through the coarse hairs of his beard. “I’ve been really wantin’ a shower, and now it’s all freed up.”

He looks you up and down one last time, scrunching his nose as he sniffs with what almost seems like indifference. Then, before you know it, he’s closing your bedroom door, leaving you alone on the floor as you come to terms with what’s just happened. You drag the pads of your fingers over your lips, closing your eyes as you grunt in frustration. He’s still here for an entire week, and you caved already. What would your dad think?

---

A very big thank you for reading. As always a big thank you for those that encourage me - @justeverythingprettymuch, and those that inspire me - @toxicanonymity!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Across The Darkened Room {3}

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader || Modern AU Summary: Aemond begins to set his expectations of you as his sub. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, masturbation, guns, orgasm denial, overstimulation, protected piv smut, toys. WC: 4.4k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four ||

There was nothing better than waking up with the sweet ache of a night well spent, even if it didn’t involve all the activities you thought it would. You stretched as you rose from your bed and felt the satisfying pops as your back cracked before grabbing your phone from the charger. 

From Aemond: How are you feeling?

You twisted in the mirror to see the welts streaking across your back and gently touched them, sparking fresh heat to the wounds. 

To Aemond: Like I am ready for more.

His response was almost instantaneous as if he had been waiting for you to wake up and reply. 

From Aemond: Patience, Sweetpea. Now drink some water and don’t skip breakfast.

Your stomach grumbled in response and you padded to the small kitchen to see what you could find. The pickings were slim as you opened the fridge and begged payday to hurry up and arrive as you sniffed the milk and deemed it non-toxic, just. You only hoped you didn’t get food poisoning as you took a seat in the rickety dining chair and dropped your phone on the table.

Though Aemond had taken you into the jacuzzi and gently washed you down as he sat you on his lap, you still wanted a hot shower so after placing your cereal bowl in the sink you grabbed a fresh towel and stepped into your bathroom. The space was so small that you if you reached out your arms you could touch each wall and the shower constantly dripped, setting a constant beat not dissimilar to the seconds hand of a clock. 

The hot water sprayed over you and the knots that had formed in your back eased under the warmth as your mind drifted back to Aemond. Your hands drifted down your body at the thought of how his body felt against you and you were no longer cleaning your skin. His lean physique had been deceptive through his clothes, but once they were removed you had seen the muscles that held surprising strength. 

You could still feel the hard breadth of his shoulders beneath your hands as you curled against him in the bubbling waters and the length of his cock pressed between you. If only he had wrapped your legs around him and let you impale yourself upon him. 

A moan filled the steamy room as you teased your clit with your fingers before burying them in your cunt. It was Aemond’s heated stare that filled your head and the memory of the whip that he wielded that turned your legs to jello as you reached the point of delirium. You sagged against the wall of the shower as you came down from the high but soon the water turned cold and you hurried out of the bathroom with a trail of drops across the floor to your bedroom.

Dressed and ready to face the day ahead, you grabbed your phone and remembered to reply to Aemond before heading to work.

To Aemond: Your wish is my command, sir. I have eaten and had TWO drinks of water.

You growled in frustration at the response that came back before shoving the useless phone into your pocket.

From Vodafone: You do not have enough credit to send this text message, please top up so that you can continue to use this service.

The secondhand bookstore was more than just your place of work, it was a place of comfort. The shelves held adventures, romance, drama and everything else you were too afraid to pursue. They held portals to new worlds of magic and nonsensical creatures that captivated your mind and left you longing for more than King’s Landing could offer. This shop was as much an escape from your otherwise mundane life as the Red Keep was.

If only Mr Greyjoy were a better boss.

“Don’t forget to lock up,” he warned by way of goodbye as he left for the night and flipped the OPEN sign on the door to CLOSED.

You waved over your head as you unboxed the latest shipment of books to arrive and turned the stereo up louder in his absence. Within minutes the music had distracted you and you danced among the shelves as you dusted them and alphabetised the books that had been displaced from their rightful spaces when the door banged open.

“What the f-” you cursed as you spun around with your hands up, expecting to find a gangbanger trying to grab the register. “Aemond! You scared the shit out of me.”

You clutched your chest as you stumbled back into a bookshelf and took a few desperate breaths to calm yourself. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said as he crossed the room and pressed his fingers to your rapid pulse at your neck. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Nice and slow. Good girl.”

He dropped his hand as your pulse slowed to a normal rate and he stared at you with his eyebrow cocked questioningly. “Well, why didn’t you reply to me?”

You shrugged as you looked down at the well worn copy of War of the Worlds that had dropped to the floor. “I’m out of credit and I don’t get paid till tomorrow, I’ll buy a top up then.”

Aemond frowned at your admission before taking your hand and leading you to the door, flicking off the lights as he passed them. “Not good enough,” he said as he pointed to the lock and you fished for the keychain in your pocket. “I can’t have you out here alone with no working phone.”

“My phone works just fine and the emergency number is free so I can still call the City Watch when something happens.”

“If something happens,” he corrected with a frown before remembering your panicked reaction to his entrance. “Wait, has something happened before?”

You chewed on your lip as he looked up and down the darkened street, seeing the gangbangers slinging dope at each end.

“Answer the question, Sweetpea.”

“The cash register has been lifted a few times but that’s what insurance is for, you know.”

Aemond’s hands clenched into fists at his side as he turned on his heel and ordered you over his shoulder, “Get in the car.”

You took a step towards the blacked out Mercedes Maybach that you hadn’t seen in his garage and the side lights flashed as Aemond unlocked the car and continued down the street. Your fingers curled around the door handle but you couldn’t bring yourself to open it when you heard him call out to the dealers.

You dropped the handle and rushed off after him.

Though the Burrough was less lawless than Flea Bottom it was not a safe suburb by any means, especially not for a tycoon whose ancestors had oppressed the people who lived here. Your heart nearly lurched from your throat as a particularly nasty banger called Mad Dog pulled a pistol from his waistband and pointed it at Aemond and you stumbled to a stop beside him.

“Sorry, Mad, my friend got a little lost,” you stammered as Aemond grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him. 

“You own these streets?” Aemond asked without even acknowledging the gun pointed at him.

“Who’s asking.”

“Does it matter? I have a proposition for you.” His thumb drew calming circles around your wrist that he held behind his back and the tremors slowly eased under his touch. “The bookstore, it’s not to be touched.”

Mad Dog cackled as he pulled the hammer back on his gun and the click triggered more violent shakes across your body. “You’re on my street, boyo, you don’t come up here demanding shit from me.”

“This may be your street, but this is my city.” Aemond reached into his pocket and pulled a business card out. You couldn’t quite see all the writing on it but the three headed dragon embossed on the paper was enough for Mad Dog to give pause. “Aemond Targaryen, in case you can’t read.”

Mad Dog swiped the card with a sneer and handed it to his runner. “Fuck you man, I can read. Whaddaya want, hot shot?”

“Keep your…men…away from the bookstore, in fact, I’ll pay you to keep everyone not interested in buying a book away.” Aemond reached into his leather jacket slowly so that Mad Dog didn’t get spooked and pulled out a neat stack of cash that was held tight by a gold money clip. “So?”

Mad Dog eyed the money with a wily gleam as he said, “Throw in that fancy ass holder and it’s a deal.”

Aemond tossed the money and clip to the banger and he grinned as he shoved his gun back in his waistband and skimmed through the cash before sniffing it. Aemond was already walking away, keeping his body between you and the men as he led the way back to his new car. 

“Hey, missy,” Mad Dog called and you flinched at the name. “I’ll be keeping my eyes on you.”

You peeked around Aemond’s body and saw Mad Dog laughing as he fanned himself with the cash but Aemond just placed his hands on your hips and turned you away. “Forget him, Sweetpea, just keep walking.”

Aemond closed the car door behind you and walked around the car to take the driver’s seat. Tension filled the flashy car and unable to stand the silence you turned to him as he pulled out.

“Why did you do that?” you asked. 

“I thought we established this last night. I am your dom and you are my sub, it is my purpose to ensure your safety, in and out of the playroom.” You frowned at the statement and he sighed to himself. “I didn’t realise quite how much Arryk was lacking. What did he even do?”

“Our relationship was just at the club, I never saw him outside of weekends.”

“This isn’t a part time deal, do you understand?” he said as he placed his hand on your knee and gave it a squeeze. “If that is what you were hoping for then I am afraid this will not work.”

You clutched his hand tight to keep it close as you feared he would pull away and this arrangement would be over as suddenly as it began. You weren’t ready for that. “I want this, Aemond.” 

He took his eye off the road for a moment as he looked across at you, seemingly satisfied by the determination he saw on your face. “Good, but we have to set some rules - beyond what was agreed at the club.”

“Okay,” you nodded and sat up a little straighter as he pulled up to your apartment block and got out. “Wait, at my place?”

“Does it make you nervous?”

“No, well, kind of, more embarrassed,” you admitted, feeling torn as the shoebox apartment was what you were most proud of since living on your own. “It’s nothing grand.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Aemond said as he curled his finger under your chin and tipped your head to look at him. “Everything you have has been gained by sheer will and persistence, nothing was given to you freely. You should be proud of it all but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable so would you like to come to my house?”

“After that speech…” you trailed off as you opened the car door and nodded your head to the foyer door. “Come on.”

Aemond’s longer legs caught up easily as he locked the car and strode across the pavement to open the door for you. He came up short as he found the elevator door wide open with a plummeting drop to the basement and a single thin yellow ‘caution’ tape sagging across the space. 

You blinked at his Doc Martins and hoped they were more comfortable than they looked as you pointed to the fire door that led to the stairwell. “Good thing I’m not in the penthouse.”

If it wasn’t for the wary look as he scanned the dimly lit stairwell you could have sworn there was some amusement in his eyes as you started the climb to the fifth floor. 

The key trembled in your fingers as you pushed it into the lock and turned it, hesitating only for a moment before you remembered his words in the car. From the doorway you could see your entire apartment and you held your breath as Aemond looked at the four corners and two doors. 

“Cosy,” he murmured as he stepped inside and you closed the door to dampen the music that was playing loudly down the hall.

“Thanks. Do you want a drink?” you asked as you crossed to the corner that held the small kitchen and opened the cupboards until you found the cheap bottle of wine Mr Greyjoy gave you as a Yule ‘bonus’ last year. You considered liquor a luxury item and it wasn’t a priority when you were shopping. Every penny you saved was another penny towards renewing the membership at Red Keep for another year, something you needed for your own sanity. 

Aemond shook his head with a quiet ‘no thank you’ as he typed away on his phone and you weren’t sure if it was because it was bound to taste like vinegar or if he was just being polite. Seeing him make himself comfortable on the antique recliner chair, that you had got from a secondhand store for a steal, sent your stomach flipping and your heart skipped a beat as he patted his knee in invitation. 

Aside from the dining chair, he had the only seat in your living room and you were more than happy to shuck off your jacket and fill the space he offered you. One arm curled around your waist while his other hand came to rest high up your thigh, his thumb circling soothingly as you remembered to breathe.

“When I message you or call, I expect an answer,” Aemond said as he slowly rocked the chair. “I have already added your number to my unlimited phone plan so there will be no such excuses again.”

You wanted to go back to your jacket and grab your phone just to check but there was no reason he would lie about that. Tears pricked your eyes at the act of kindness, though you knew it was also a form of control and you welcomed it like the control he had in the playroom. 

“Does that bother you?” Aemond asked as he caught the tear clinging to your lashes and balanced it on his finger as the droplet shimmered in the light. He stared at the tear in fascination before lifting his hand to his parted lips and he licked it away with a swipe of his pink tongue. 

“No,” you said honestly as your core clenched at the sight of his tongue. “I know $20 is loose change for you but…thank you, Aemond.”

“You’re welcome, Sweetpea, as I said, your safety is my top priority.” He traced your jawline with the back of his knuckles before they teased down your throat and to the swell of your breasts. “Which is why you cannot live here.” 

You almost fell off his lap as you scrambled away from his touch. “This is my home, Aemond. I can’t just find another place to live.”

“You won’t have to,” he said as he rose to follow your retreat. “I have vacant properties all over King’s Landing, you may choose which one you want, no rent needed.”

“And when this arrangement ends I will be homeless once again,” you said with a shake of your head as you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

“You think I would allow that?” His pained frown gave you pause. 

“I don’t know. No.”

“My lawyers can draw up the lease, is three years security enough?” His lips curled up a bit and you saw the hint of the man who had been in the playroom with you. “I hope you will know me well by then.”

He stepped closer and your back hit the wall, his smile growing as he placed a hand beside your head and lowered his so he was eye to eye with you. “I want to take care of you, I want to see just how much you can take. Will you let me?”

Your head bobbed without a thought to what he could be asking of you but the flood of adrenaline he gave you was a rush you were quickly becoming addicted to. You wanted him to lead you blindly, you wanted to discover the unknown boundaries and limits of your body and sanity, and you wanted that with him. 

You tipped your chin back and his eye was drawn to the line of your neck bared in submission as you dared him, “Do your worst.”

Quicker than you could see, he grabbed your waist and spun you so one moment you were looking into his violet-blue eye and the next you were facing the wall. His lips teased your ear as he kissed his way down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin and making your lungs seize each time with a gasp. 

“You’re not ready for my worst just yet, Sweetpea, but I have been dying for a taste of you.” 

He rocked his hips against your ass and you felt his cock straining to break free of his jeans as it dug into you. A strangle moan fell from your parted lips as you pushed back to feel more but he just chuckled darkly and moved out of reach.

“Who’s in control here, hmmm?” he asked as his touch disappeared and you turned to find what you had lost. 

His back was straight and his hands were clasped behind his back as he looked down his nose at you, his eyebrow cocked as he awaited your answer.

“You are, sir.”

“Remember that next time you think about moving.” 

He slipped his jacket off and hung it over the back of your chair before slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt, your mouth watering as he bared his skin to you. “Take your clothes off and lay down on the bed, on your stomach.”

You swallowed in anticipation as you pulled your shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor, kicking your jeans off next before pausing as Aemond ripped his belt from his hips with one pull and the leather cracked like a whip. He grinned as your breasts swelled with the deep breaths you were taking and the bra did little to hide your peaked nipples pushing against the lace. 

“Take. Off. Your. Clothes,” he enunciated when you didn’t recover immediately from the trance he had you in. “Now.”

You unclipped the bra and let it fall before hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, enjoying the heat in his eyes as you deliberately took your time dragging them down your thighs. His eyes never left you as you walked into your room and crawled upon your bed before laying down as you were instructed. It took all of your willpower not to look over your shoulder to see what he was doing but you kept your chin resting on your folded hands and your eyes on the mirror that hung on your closet door.

A deep ‘hmmm’ was the only sound he made to confirm he had joined you and your core clenched at the primal sound and the sight as he stepped into the reflection. His leather belt teasingly trailed down your spine and your back stiffened at the surprisingly cold touch. 

“Hands behind your back.”

Your cheek pressed into the blanket as you cast your arms behind you, the belt quickly cuffing them together tightly before you felt Aemond’s weight shifting on the bed. 

“Good girl,” he praised as you kept still for him, and then his hands were on your hips, pulling you onto your knees at the edge of your bed and spreading them wide. You couldn’t see him as he disappeared behind you but you felt his breath on your thighs when he spoke, “No coming until I say you can, or you use the safe word.”

You could already feel your body clenching in anticipation as you answered breathlessly, “Yes, sir.”

Aemond’s tongue was warm and wet as it teased around your pussy lips, so close to where you wanted it most but just out of reach, and you squirmed on the bed. A quick, sharp slap heated your backside at the movement and you hissed through your teeth before he rubbed his hand over the burning area. 

“No moving,” Aemond reminded you as if the smarting wasn’t sufficient before he lashed his tongue through your folds eliciting a cry of pleasure from you.

Your hands fought against the belt as warmth began to flood your body and your toes curled. Deep breaths, you reminded yourself as he pulled away and replaced his tongue with his fingers, pumping them in and out as they curled to ride the sweet spot along your walls. 

“Not yet, Sweetpea,” he taunted as he looked at your face in the mirror, your lips pressed tightly and your eyebrows creasing together as you tried to starve off your release for him. 

Every muscle in your body was tight and your hips began to rock against him with a wanton whine that turned to a squeal as his hand, wet with your arousal, slapped the back of your thigh. Your face buried into the blanket with a scream and your pussy clenched disappointingly around nothing as Aemond tasted the glistening juices on his fingers.

You slowly began to ebb away from the wave of release but Aemond had other ideas as he opened your bedside draws and huffed happily as he found the wand kept there. The buzz of the toy vibrated across your skin as Aemond ran it up and down the back of your thighs and a surprised gasp erupted as he pressed it to a spot in the bend of your knee.

“Hmmm…” 

You swelled with pride at the satisfied sound he made before he went on a search for another erogenous zone as he mapped the special spots on your body in his memory. 

The edge of orgasm was quickly approaching once again and you weren’t sure you would be able to stop it when he pressed the wand to your clit and delved his tongue into your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck, Aemond,” you cried as tears began to well in your eyes and the battle between your mind and your body waged. Your body seemed to be on the verge of winning as your walls began to flutter and your back arched, pushing his tongue deeper. “Please, please, please…”

“Please, what?” Aemond said as he pulled away with a smirk, keeping the wand pressed to your puffy clit.

“Please, sir, I’m, I’m gonna come,” you stammered through clenched teeth.

The silence dragged as your breathing came in quick rasps but his eye finally connected with you through the mirror as he gave you permission, “Okay, Sweetpea, you can come.”

You shuddered with relief and the orgasm exploded over you as you buried your face in the blankets and cried out. Wave after wave crashed over you and your hips pulled away from the wand as the strong vibrations became too much, but Aemond pressed his palm to your lower back and pushed your hips back down over the stimulator. 

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Aemond growled. 

You could barely breathe, barely think.

You were lost in the sensation of the wand on your clit and Aemond’s strength as he kept you pinned over it. There was nothing you could do to stop the tremors that shook your thighs and the pressure in your body continued to grow until you thought you would combust. Tears dampened the blanket beneath your face and your throat was hoarse from crying but the safe word was far from your mind as you revelled in the sweet pain that throbbed along your clit. 

The room spun as your breaths quickened and Aemond eased the wand away, the silence deafening as it was turned off. Your shoulders sagged with relief, though the aftershocks still through wracked your body, and Aemond gently fingered your cunt as he played with the slick that was escaping your folds. 

“You did very well,” he praised as you heard a rustling noise behind you, “but we are not done yet.”

He rose to his feet and unbuckled the belt to release your hands as he massaged your wrists. You didn’t have the strength to move just yet but he was content to have you as you were as you felt the head of his cock tease your folds. 

The orgasms had left you tight and wet and he growled happily as he thrust inside you. Overstimulated and oversensitive, you cried out at the delicious stretch of his cock filling you and it turned to a moan as he bumped your cervix deep inside. 

Your fingers clawed at the blanket with their freedom and you pushed back to meet his thrusts. You released a strangled moan when his large hands spread across your ass, stretching it wide before he pressed his thumb to your tight hole. Lewd sounds spilled from your parted lips as your cunt clenched in response. 

“Another time, Sweetpea,” Aemond promised before spat at your hole and hooked his thumb in deeper. “I’ll stretch this real good when I fuck your tight ass.”

His fingers dug into the soft meat of your buttocks until his nails broke the skin and a bolt of lightning sparked straight to your cunt. 

“Yes!” you cried as he dragged his nails across you and the pain left you dizzy. “Please, sir, I need to come.”

He groaned as his rhythm faltered and his voice was tense as he permitted your release. The feel of your pussy walls clamping around his cock as you came writhing was enough to break the grip he kept on his control. His hand shot out and grasped the back of your neck tightly as he fucked himself to oblivion, his teeth bared and his sapphire sparkling as your bedroom light swung wildly as the bed frame thumped against the wall.

Click here for part four.

Taglist: @scxrletwitches , @shelbyteller , @girl-with-an-orange-cat , @crispmarshmallow , @itsemy01 , @boofy1998 , @wondergal2001 , @percyjacksonspeen , @ebaylee422 , @namoremo , @the-jess-life , @caramelcandescense , @undeniableadrenaline , @1950schick , @dothrckis

[tidbit-fanfic]

A/N: Finally finished this based off of a dream I had once upon a time. As always I do not own any named characters in this, except for the “reader”. Set in season 11, although Reader and Dean’s relationship has been well established before that. 

TW: no HEA, cannon level violence, swearing/language, kinda OOC!Dean, unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied smut (not explicit), blood (mentioned), spoilers for season 11, one use of y/n

I met the Winchesters after my college roommate passed away under unnatural circumstances. To make a long story short, a demon had decided that a college campus was the best place to set up shop, and nearly half of my dorm was harmed in the process. I did my best to help, despite having very little knowledge of such creatures, but I was willing to help. From that point on, I became a powerful ally to the brothers, and a formidable foe to the supernatural.

After Bobby’s death I stepped up full-time, becoming their go-to researcher for anything they were facing. Life was going fine, helping with research the best I could, working in the background against the Leviathan. 

Time blurred together, from helping the boys with the trials,fighting Metatron alongside Castiel, and along the way, something bloomed in between me and the eldest Winchester. What started as friendly teasing and taunting, morphed into actual flirting and soon enough, physical touch was involved. We were great, always backing the other when needed, even when the Mark of Cain became a third wheel in our relationship. Throughout it all, I stood beside him, forever and always. 

I waited for the boys at the hospital, standing on the steps as they helped Jenna out of the Impala. After helping them get her into a wheelchair, I checked them over, finding that there was no visible damage done to the brothers; the sheriff, however, was holding onto her side, her shirt covered in fresh blood. She tensed upon seeing me, her free hand inching toward her gun. I held my hands up in a defensive manner, intending to show no harm.“Normally, I’m the one grabbing the gun when approached.”

“Show us your neck.”

I furrow my brows, looking from her to the boys. Dean nods, and I reach down, pulling the collar of the turtle neck down. “Satisfied? Or do I need to conjure up a hickey or two?”

  Jenna relaxed, trying to look past me into the hospital. Dean grabbed my arm, dragging me just out of earshot of the other two. “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“Right, right, because that’s what you would do.”

“No, it’s just,” he ran his hand through his hair, huffing out air. “You know how I feel about you searching for trouble.” 

I snorted. “Honey, you’re all the trouble I need. But, I get it. My big, scary boyfriend is worried about me. Even though he knows how I can handle myself perfectly fine.” 

Dean opened his mouth, just as Sam interrupted. “What’s the state of the hospital? Where is everyone?”

“Dead. No pulse whatsoever.” Sam’s eyes took on a saddened glaze. I cocked my head towards the door, searching for an exit from the conversation. “Let’s get Sheriff Callie fixed-up then, shall we?”

All of us cautiously made our way into the hospital, wary of the chance of a rabid attacking at any point. The halls seemed way too quiet, the sounds of our beating hearts the only noise our ears intercepted. When we reached the exam room, Sam dismissed himself, searching for antibiotics for Jenna. Meanwhile, I stood to the side as Dean stitched the sheriff’s wound closed, watching the meticulous way he tended to her. Dean finished with his work, helping her down from the table, turning to me after. I crossed my arms, watching as he unrolled his sleeves. I looked to the sheriff, nodding to the room behind me. “There’s a comfortable chair in there, you should probably take a little break.”

“I’m fine.”

“You lost a lot of blood, I’m guessing?” I raised a brow as she looked away. “There’s some juice in the mini fridge and a couple granola bars in the lower drawer. Eat up, we don't need you passing out on us.”

She sighed, following my instructions and shuffled into the office. I shut the door behind her, regaining my composure before turning back to Dean. He busied himself with cleaning the area, avoiding eye contact with me.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“You know what.” I huffed, hoisting myself up onto the table next to him. “About you running away, and then suddenly there’s a code red in the area you distinctly were in? Oh, and how about the fact that you told your brother to take care of me? The girl you are in a relationship with?”

“Are we going to address you going against my specific orders to stay put?”

“God damnit, I was worried about you! You went to get yourself killed and didn’t even think to tell me goodbye in person!” I slammed my hand down onto the table, leaning into his face. “I swear sometimes I don’t recognize you anymore. Mark or not.”

He glared at me, irritated with the invasion of his personal space. “Maybe that’s because I’m not who I was.”

“Yeah, go figure.”

“No, you don’t get it. The Mark—”

“Fuck the Mark. You’re Dean Winchester. The Dean Winchester. Even Hell trembles in the mention of your name. A stupid ass curse is the last thing I would expect to break you down.”

His jaw ticks as he looks to the ceiling, probably sending off a prayer to Cas for some sort of strength, to deal with me. “I am not the person I was before.”

“No, you're not. And you know what? That’s fine. We’ve been through worse than a fucking personality change. Shit, I ran from a demon you with a goddamn hammer in your hand. I’m sure if that didn’t turn me off from you, then nothing can.” I pushed the bag to the side, sliding over so I was in front of him. I reached my hand out, cupping his face as I looked deep into those emerald green eyes. “I’m in this till the end, you hear me? Forever and always.”

“Forever and always.” He sighs, pushing his face into my palm, before pulling me into an embrace. I wrap my arms around him, breathing in the scent that is so distinctly Dean, when Sam enters with a man holding a child. I pull away, eying the new editions to the room. 

“Sorry for interrupting, but we have company. I found them hiding from one of the infected.” Sam rushes out, nodding to the father. 

Jenna opens the door, joining us again, looking much better with the nutrients in her system. A look of recognition crossing her features. “Mike? Where’s…”

“She’s gone.” The father, Mike, looked down to the child, an expression of grief taking over his features. I slide off the table, pushing Dean back, crossing to him. The sheriff joins us, murmuring her condolences to Mike, who rocks his baby slightly. I step back, allowing the friends space as I check in with the brothers. Sam nods towards the father, the black veins creeping from the man's neck. Dean clears his throat, returning our attention. “We need to kill him.” 

“No, we don’t.” Sam states, exasperated with his blood.

“What are our other options then, because I don’t see many.” 

“There has to be some other way,” I reason, “he has a newborn, we shouldn’t even consider that.”

Sam backs me. “That’s true. This infection seems to have a time frame, the rabid in the hall, just died after some time. Maybe we have to wait it out.”

“Wait it out so he can attack us like the rest of us? No Sam, I can't let that happen.” 

I turn back to our company, not wanting to continue with this argument.  

Noticing the child fussing, I walk over, directly to the father. “May I?”

He nods, handing me the baby and I look down at her, cooing and rocking her in an attempt to calm her. Mike watches closely, ensuring his child's safety, and an ache rises in my chest at the action. Sam joins us, ignoring the child held in my arms. “We have a plan.”

“You have a plan, my plan was to kill him.”

“Dean.” I shoot him a glare, reminding him he is in the presence of the very person he wants to kill. He throws his hands up as Mike chimes in. 

“No, he’s right, it’s only a matter of time before I attack you all. I’ll leave, distance myself from you and wait out the time period.”

“What? No. What is she going to do without you, her father?” I hold her tighter to my chest, the ache returning. 

“Jenna? Will you take care of her for me? I’ll go wait out the infection and…” He rubs the baby's head, turning to the sheriff. Jenna nods, and holds her arms out for the child. I transfer the child to her arms, going to tuck myself into Dean’s side, his arm looping around my waist. 

“What’s the plan?”

We were stopped at a gas station, Dean calling Sam while Jenna took Amara in to change her. I sat in the backseat, the door open as Dean stood nearby, Sam on speaker. “Everything is going fine here. Really.” 

“Are you sure, because we can come back in a heartbeat.”

“No, you guys make sure Jenna and the baby make it to her grandmother’s, don’t worry about me, I can handle myself.” 

Dean hands me the phone as he heads inside, leaving me with Sam. “You’re one hundred percent sure that you don’t need us?’

A sigh echoes from the other end. “Honestly, no. I caught it, the infection.”

“Sam.” My throat swells. “We’re coming back, right after—”

“No! Just, don’t tell Dean.”

“Fine. I’m not going to lie to him though. And Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“You better use that big brain of yours to find a cure, I’m not looking forward to Dean trying to sell his soul again.”

“Promise me you’ll stop him from doing anything stupid. No matter the outcome.”��

“You know I can’t promise that.”

“Promise.”

I sigh, closing my eyes as the worry begins to creep in. “I promise.”

“Good. Now get Jenna to her grandmother’s, and I’ll see you both later.”

“Right. Bye Sammy.” 

He hangs up just as Dean returns, leaning against Baby. “Did he say anything to you?” 

I shook my head, picking at my nails. “Nothing he didn’t tell you.”

He scrubs his hand in his hair, looking up to the sky. “I hate leaving him behind in a hotspot.”

“I know you do, but this was his idea, he wouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t confident in his abilities.” 

“You’re right, but I still can’t not worry about him.”

I stood up in front of him, tucking my hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I didn’t want to leave him either, but we have to respect his decisions. Right?”

He lets out a sigh, his hands slipping into the back pockets of my jeans as our foreheads meet. “You’re right. I still hate it though.”

“That’s fair. For now, we need to get those two to somewhere safe, then we can speed back to him, okay?”

He lets out a sound of affirmation before pulling away from me, just as Jenna returns. We all climb back into Baby, heading off to the safe house. 

“Do you think they’ll be fine?” 

Dean’s eyes flicker over to me, returning to the road before answering. “I think so. Might be hard to explain a few years down the road, but that’s not our problem.” 

I nod, watching the fields pass the window as we make out way back to the hospital. Suddenly, Dean’s cell rings, flashing Jenna’s name across the caller ID. He answers it as usual, muttering some responses before whipping the Impala around. “Change of plans sweetheart, we’ve got some other things to attend to.”

We get out at Jenna’s grandmother’s, meeting her at the end of the driveway. “I’m sorry for calling, it’s just, this is crazy. Also, I apologize ahead of time, my grandmother’s a big religious person.”

We enter the house, coming face first with the king of hell dressed as a priest. “Crowley?”

“Hello dears. About time you joined us.”

“So what the hell is happening here, Father?”

“Well, the same thing you were called for apparently, I have some connections, so when an exorcism is called in, I get called in.” Crowley shrugs, as if this isn’t the biggest news.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I was called in about some sort of demon possession. But, whatever thing is in there, it isn’t mine…it’s darker, more powerful.”

“What do you think it is?”

“If I knew, I would have told you wouldn’t I?” He scoffs, watching as I turn back to the house, going to approach it, before a scream rips through the air. I whip my head to the two of them, eyes widening before we all rush inside, guns drawn. 

Inside, we find the grandmother lying in a pool of her own blood, Jenna nowhere to be found. I shoot a glare at Crowley, who stands to the side, thoroughly unimpressed. The two go upstairs,checking the rest of the house while leaving me with the corpse. “Sorry grandma, but we have to figure this out.”

I check the first floor, finding a sheet, which I lay over her body, out of pure respect. A smash sounds from the second floor, and soon enough Dean comes rushing down the stairs. “They're gone.” 

A few weeks later, I stand at the end of a table, looking in disbelief at the brothers. “Cas is Lucifer, Sam died again, but not really, so you overdosed in hopes of saving him?” 

Sam flinches, avoiding looking at me, while Dean shrugs. “I did what I needed to.”

“By killing yourself?! What if it didn’t work?! What if you actually died? Did you forget you have a vengeful reaper dying to sink her teeth into you?!” 

Dean shrugs, continuing to sip at his beer. 

“And he shrugs. What the fuck has gotten into you? Ever since the church case you've been acting like a total ass.”

Sam looks at his brother, then to me, before excusing himself from the room. I sit in the spot he left, directly across from Dean. “What’s wrong? You’ve been distant since this whole Amara thing began. Is it something with her? Cas?”

He scoffs, peeling at the label on the bottle in front of him, avoiding eye contact. I grab the bottle, reaching for his hand. He pulls it away, glaring at me. “Maybe it’s you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Maybe it’s you. Maybe you're the issue.”

“Me? How the hell am I the issue? I haven't seen you since dropping off Amara and Jenna. You’re acting like a total ass to me, and yet I’m the problem?”

He stands up, his palms pressing flat to the table, turning to leave for his room.

“Fine, how do I fix this?”

“You don’t.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t fix it.”

“Whatever it is we can fix—”

“We cannot fix anything. There’s nothing to fix between us, not anymore.” He pushes off the table, running a hand through his hair.

My voice begins to tremble, a lump forming in my throat. “What? What do you mean there’s nothing? We’re—”

“There is no we anymore!” He whirls around towards me, a look of pure annoyance painted over his features.

“I’m sorry, but it sounds like you’re trying to break up with me? Which can’t be true.” I stand up, the chair screeching against the floor in my urgency. “Unless it is.”

“It is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I kissed her. And I liked it. She’s been on my mind anytime I’m with you. Shit, I had to force Sam to promise he wouldn’t tell you. But us? This is done.”

“Wait, who are we talking about? There’s another girl?!” I shouted, tears forming in my eyes.

“Amara.”

“The baby?! The fucking one-month old?! You’re leaving me for her?!”

“Yes!”

“This is why you've been distant. God I’m so stupid. Forever and always my ass.” I wrap my arms around myself. “You know what, fuck this.”

Dean stood there, his back turned to me. I reached up, snapping the chain that once laid delicately around my neck. The silver pendant dangled gently from the ruined piece. I threw it on the table. “Fuck you. And fuck your girl toy. Don’t you dare come asking for my forgiveness when she destroys everything you love. If you are even capable of that.” 

I pivoted, heading to my room, locking the door behind me, not bothering to glance at him again. I rip the photos of us off the wall, tossing them in the trash bin. I hesitate with the first one, the one Sam took of us leaning into one another, passed out in the front seat of Baby. The day we first said the words. A single tear landed on it as I pulled my lighter out of my pocket, lighting the corner on fire before dropping it into the bin with the rest.

I hauled my bag over my shoulder, walking into the garage where my 1977 Chevy Camaro sat, unused since I began running with the brothers. Specifically since Dean. I threw my bag in the backseat, starting the engine and leaving behind what once was my home. Where my heart could no longer stay.  

Sam’s call lit up the darkened hotel room for the fifth time tonight. Not to mention Cas’s numerous calls and voicemails sitting in the inbox waiting to be opened. Yet not a single one from him. I turned my phone over, standing on shaky legs as I made my way to the en suite. I flicked on the fluorescent light, coming face to face with a ghastly image. My eyes were rimmed in red, the deep purple bags making the red so much brighter. Tear stains lined my cheeks, my hair thrown up in a knot, curled in on itself in a mirror image of my stomach. And the irises that one shone bright with life, were fogged over, dull. Dean’s ring sat on the ledge of the sink, mocking me. The ring he gave me that first hunt they went on without me. The promise echoing in my ears. 

“Wear this. It’s my guarantee to return to you, always.”

“For forever.”

“For forever and always.” His lips brushed my forehead, settling the ring on my forefinger, it wouldn't fit on the rest. “Forever and always, princess.”

He returned from that hunt with a nasty cut on his cheek, and a funny limp in his right leg, but he returned. And he always did from that point on, forever. 

“Fuck forever and always.”

I wake up with hair in my mouth, a raging headache thriving between my ears. I groan, moving to sit up, but held back by a heavily muscled arm around my waist. I look over my shoulder, coming face to face with a dark haired man. His deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping, and the sticky feeling between my thighs reveals exactly what happened after the alcohol hit my system. My phone buzzes on the nightstand beside me, an unknown number calling me. I pick it up, grumbling choice words as I answer.“Who the hell is this?”

“Hello darling. Didya have a nice night?”

“Crowley,” I throw the stranger’s arm off me, getting out of bed and search for my clothes. “to what do I owe the honor?”

“Your man and his sibling have called me in, we have a lead on how to get rid of Amara.” 

“No.”

“I know you and him had a fallout, darling, we can’t do this on our own. So I suggest you get your freshly screwed buttocks to the bunker, asap.” The dead tone rang through my ear, and then through the air as my phone crashed into the wall. I yanked on my converse, mumbling towards my companion. 

“Goddamn Winchesters and their goddamn saving the earth. Look, I have to leave, just return the key to the desk when you leave, and thanks for last night…” I shrugged on my jacket, grabbing my keys and reaching for the door knob. The mystery man goes to speak, having been woken up by our conversation, but I ignore him, closing the door behind me. 

Crowley meets me the second I pull up to the building, a knowing smile displayed on his face. “So, where’s the lucky man now?”

I flip him off, walking inside. I’m greeted by Sam pulling me into a hug, a muddled kiss place in my hair. He pulled away, checking me for any signs of distress. “Are you okay?” 

I nod, glancing around the room, finding Cas, well, Lucifer, Rowena, an individual I didn’t recognize, plus Metatron. I scan the room, looking for the person I least want to see. The door opened behind me, and in walks Dean Winchester, looking like hell warmed over. My breath caught and I swayed into Sam, going lightheaded. He wrapped his arm around me protectively as Dean approached us. “Y/n. Look I’m—”

“Don’t.” Sam growls towards his brother. “They’re here to help us, not for an apology from you.”

“I’m just trying—”

“No, Dean. You don’t get to try anything. They will decide when you get to talk to them. Got it?” 

The unknown individual cleared his throat, directing our attention to the plan. I felt Dean’s eyes burning into my side, and then they snapped to Sam, when the announcement of who Mark would go to. I turned to look up at him, fear clinging to my ribs.“Sam? You can’t.”

“We didn’t talk about this. You can’t, it’s mine to bear.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you would freak out like this.”

I grabbed Sam’s bicep, dragging his attention to me. “Do you know what you are agreeing to?” 

He nods, dragging me closer to him. “I have to do it, you know I do.”

I let him go, looking at Dean, our eyes locking. I can see the pain he’s trying to hide, the anger, the worry, all for his brother. I return my gaze to the big man, resisting the urge to comfort him. “Well then, let’s get this show on the road, shall we.” 

The door opens, a beaten woman dragging herself in. Her dark eyes flicker around the room, landing on me, front and center. My breath catches in my throat, her beauty striking me. I swallow visibly, my eyes dragging down her body, before returning to hers. She straightens up, a smirk crossing her face. “Who are you?”

“I’m, I’m no one important.” 

Lucifer impales her from behind, as Chuck steps around me, looking down at his sister. They exchange words, before Amara stands up, throwing the rest of us every which way. My head slams against concrete, the world dissolving behind my eyelids. 

When my eyelids flutter open, I’m in a smokey void, with only Amara in front of me. I step forward, reaching for my knife hidden away in my jacket, only to find it missing. She lets out a laugh. “So you were the one who once owned the heart of my Winchester?”

“Your Winchester?” I let out a laugh. 

She tilts her head, smiling at me. “Right, you both are dating, aren’t you? I might just have to steal him from you. Oh wait, I already have.” She leans in closer, running her nose up my neck, stopping when her breath tickles my ear. “Or I could make you watch as I bind our souls together for eternity. What was the phrase you used? Forever and always.”

“You—”

“Careful what you say to me. I could end your life with the snap of my fingers.” Her smile drops, her hand wrapping around my neck. I grit my teeth together, hissing out my next words. “Do it then, you bitch.”

My body gets thrown backwards, hitting an invisible wall. She tsks at me, her face holding no emotion. “No, no. I’d rather keep you alive. Force you to watch Dean leave you over and over again until the universe ends. Keep you in a little glass cage, as a pet.” 

“You’re sick.” Amara throws her head back, letting out a laugh. 

“Perhaps I am, but are you much better?” 

I glare at her, silently cussing out Chuck for letting this happen. She takes my head into her hands, her eyes locked on my lips. “Nothing? I thought so.” She twists my head violently to the side, and the void disappears. 

My eyes snap open, lungs panting for air as green floods my vision. I sit up, pushing Dean back from me, as Cas stands up. Sam is crouching next to Chuck, helping him sit up, his complexion pale. Cas speaks up, his monotonous voice returned. “You were out for a while. I couldn’t find your soul.”

“Thank you Cas. It’s great to have you back.”

Dean opens his mouth, going to say something when Rowena bursts through the doors.

“You all need to come see this. We have a wee bit of a problem.”

A month had passed since then, and I was thrown into saving the world yet again. Collecting souls to build a spirit bomb, Dean gave up on attempting to talk to me, his brother my guard dog. Saying goodbye to the only man I’ve loved, just for him to remain alive, returning with his mother. Saving Sam from the crazy Brits, and so much more. I moved back into the bunker, much to Mary’s insistence: “The boys need you, as much as they don’t want to admit it.” 

I hid in my room, only coming out for the necessities, to share research I found, basically avoiding Dean. Unfortunately, he eventually caught up during one of my necessity runs. I felt confined as he barred my escape route. 

“We need to talk.”

“We are, aren't we?” I shook his hand off my arm, eyes darting to the exit he left unguarded. 

“No, we aren’t, and it’s killing me.” 

I snorted, “Well, apparently I’m the problem, so distancing myself seems to be the only way to remedy that.”

Dean flinched back, tucking his hands into his pocket as he looked to the floor. “About that, I—”

“No.”

“No?” “No, you don't get to apologize. I’m done Dean. Something in me shattered that day, the day I realized I’m not what you wanted. That I was just convenient for you. And now that there's not another woman pining after you, you want me back. It doesn’t work like that. My answer is no, you do not get a second chance, divine interference or not.” I turned on my heel, rushing back to my room, leaving him

standing there with tears in his eyes matching mine. But, if there's one thing I know about Dean Winchester, it’s that he’ll get over it. 

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

#72, #5 #7 and #74 #3 from the prompt game pls... idk if that would eork but i like them

and minsung poly w reader bc who doesnt love them

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompts: "Are those...bite marks?"

"You're incredible." "Aw, thanks!" "Not a compliment, babe."

"If I can get it in pink, I want it in pink."

Members: Lee Minho, Han Jisung

Relationship: Hunter!FemReader x Werewolf!Minsung

Genre: Fluff, Crack

Warning: Blood, Minor Injuries

You stumble in to the darkened apartment shortly after 4 in the morning, and your immediate first thought, echoed by the loud growling of your stomach, is food.

You head straight for the fridge, hoping Minho had cooked something for dinner that made leftovers, and almost cry when you see the plate saran wrapped and waiting for you.

God bless Lee Minho.

You shove the food into the microwave and lean back on the counter to wait, picking at the dirt caked beneath your finger nails and sniffing the arm of your dirty jacket experimentally.

You wrinkle your nose in disgust.

You definitely need a shower.

Preferably before falling in to bed.

Minho will never let you hear the end of it if you get grime on his sheets.

The light flicks on in the kitchen right as the microwave beeps, and you yank open the door, glancing over your shoulder in a squint to see Minho standing in the doorway.

Speak of the devil.

You blink a couple times, getting your eyes adjusted to the light, and give him an easy smile as you slide into a seat at the table, the smell of the food making your stomach grumble once more.

"Oh. Hey, Min. What're you doing up so early?"

Minho rolls his eyes, hair mussed, and makes right for the coffee maker.

"I dunno, some dumbass just got home and it's my job to check up on them."

You shrug, mouth full of food, and lean over to pull your knife from your boot, throwing it down on the table as you unstrap your gun from your back to do the same.

"I'm fine. Starving, but fine."

"Really?" Minho turns, leaning against the counter, watching you with an annoyed scowl. "Because you're dripping all over our linoleum."

You glance down with slight interest, and see he's right.

You'd forgotten all about the gash on your arm in the adrenaline and need for food, but it's still slowly oozing blood, puddling on the floor at your feet.

"Fuck, I liked this coat." You complain, staring at the ripped fabric, before your eyes follow the trail of blood to the fridge and back up to Minho's irritated expression.

You manage a grimace and an apology. "Sorry, Min?"

"Sorry for what?" Jisung appears then, rubbing at his eyes, still heavy with sleep, his dark hair a mess, and you grin at him, holding up your arm for him to see as he moves his gaze to you blearily.

"For bleeding all over Minho's perfectly clean floor."

Jisung's eyes go wide, and he hurries across the kitchen to you, taking your arm carefully in his hands, his jaw dropping.

"Are those.....bite marks?"

You wince slightly as his fingers prod carefully over the open wound, but arch a brow at him and smirk teasingly when he meets your gaze once more.

"Don't worry, Sung. It wasn't anyone you knew."

Jisung rolls his eyes as you laugh, and Minho is sighing, moving past the two of you to get the first aid kit from the bathroom, calling over his shoulder with clear annoyance, "And what did we say about weapons on the table?"

"Sorry, babe!" You singsong back as he disappears from sight.

Jisung releases your arm, settling into the chair beside you, eying you carefully.

"Does it hurt?"

You shrug, digging back into your food. "Not really. Too much adrenaline still."

Jisung cocks his head. "So you got them?"

You wink at him. "I always get them, Sung."

You go back to eating, and Jisung goes back to quietly keeping you company.

It shouldn't work. You all know that.

Two werewolves and the very hunter tasked with taking out their kind, but it does, and none of you question it.

Minho returns, shooing Jisung out of the seat next to you as he lays the contents of the first aid kit on the table, pulling out some thread and a sharp needle as he glances over at you.

"Arm please."

You stretch out your arm dutifully in front of him, allowing him full access to the bite, and Jisung takes your empty plate over to the sink, choosing to not watch this particular part of the process.

He's never been one for too much blood.

Minho swipes disinfectant across the wound, and you hiss, but hold still, as he begins to stitch it closed. It stings, a pinching, hot pain, but you've been patched up by Minho enough that you know it won't last long.

"So." He says, in between even, careful stitches, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Do I need to worry about you getting rabies from this?"

You snort, and Jisung returns to sit beside you as Minho finishes up the first row of sutures, tugging your skin closed as he brushes aside the tatters of your coat sleeve.

"Nah. It was a dangerous stray situation, but I've had all my shots."

Jisung taps his fingers along the table, and you reach out with your free hand to cover his hand with yours, giving him a gentle smile.

"Sung."

He looks up at you, eyes dark with worry, and you squeeze his fingers between your own.

"I'm fine."

"You smell weird. Like wet dog. I don't like it."

You chuckle, reaching up to knock him lightly under the chin. "I"ll wash up as soon as Min is done, okay? Promise."

Jisung nods, biting his bottom lip, before he says hesitantly, "You know how we discussed...things the other day? The rules?"

You cock your head in surprise, watching him carefully. "Yeah?"

"If it means we can be seen in public together, I'll do it."

Your brow arches in surprise. "What?"

Jisung straightens his shoulders. "I know the order requires werewolves in society to be 'tamed-'" He makes finger quotes and a face of disgust but keeps going. "-so if wearing a collar in public makes it possible for us-the three of us-" He glances at Minho, whose hands have stilled and gaze is on him. "-to do things together, then I'll do it."

You squeeze his hand harder. "Are you sure?"

Minho is still, staring at Jisung.

"Yeah." Jisung nods, giving you a little hint of a relieved smile. "But I have one condition."

You grin. "Anything."

"If I can get it in pink, I want it in pink."

You laugh, leaning over to kiss him. "I'll get you the pinkest, prettiest collar I can find, baby boy."

Jisung looks satisfied, grinning now, sitting back in his chair and pulling your joined hands to rest in his lap.

You glance at Minho, who still hasn't moved, and lower your voice, glancing down to his blood stained finger tips.

"Min?"

He sighs, tucking away the needle and thread, before he gets up to wash his hands.

With his back to you, he says, "Fine. But I'm not wearing that shit at home. Or anywhere we're alone."

Jisung grins and claps, jumping up to wrap his arms around the other werewolf's narrow waist.

"We promise, hyung! Unless, of course, you wanna wear it for something kinky or some shit."

You consider with a smirk, Minho glaring at both of you. "I could be into that."

"You're incredible." He says dryly, holding you in his glare, even as Jisung hugs him tighter and presses a kiss to his neck.

"Aw, thanks!" You wink, reaching to grab your gun and knife off the table, pushing yourself up to put them away properly.

"Not a compliment, babe."

"I'll still take it as one!" You call over your shoulder, heading down the hall to your room and the waiting shower.

"Wait!" Jisung yells back, and you hear him scrambling across the floor in the kitchen. "I wanna shower with you!"

You grin to yourself, warmth settling firmly into your chest, as you put your weapons away and head to the bathroom and the waiting Jisung.

You're not even that mad about your coat anymore.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

I Can't Breathe

(Kill Somebody Like You Part Two Chapter Eighteen)

🔪Previous Parts Here🔪

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, cursing, past abuse, past SA, top Dom, bottom Cols, mating cycle, Dom in rut, dirty talk, deep throating a Gatorade bottle, trying to ignore a mate for toast, grinding, teasing, slight voyeurism, kitchen sex, rough sex, bruises, anal play, spitting, blow jobs, cum sharing, stumbling make outs, planning, enemies to lovers ❤️‍🔥 Rating: explicit AF

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🩷

The couple had gotten their older son calmed down as best they could before Colson slipped away to find Gatorade and toast. His body was exhausted and his stomach empty but he could feel himself still dripping wet between his thighs for no other reason besides his mate being in rut. At least he assumed that was why. It drained him of water and made him ravenously thirsty but of course he wanted to take care of his family first. He thought he was leaving his fiancé to care for their boys but as he was standing in front of the open fridge he felt something behind him. He didn't feel like stopping his deep drink of the neon fluid but he turned his head enough to see.

“Good boy, keeping ya stamina up. Need to stay ‘ydrated so you can squirt for me.” Whatever he was expecting his killer to say it certainly wasn't that. He wasn't used to dominant horny Dom but he was scared he'd come to love this side of him too much and he'd miss it when the rut hormones had passed. Instead of showing any of that he rolled his eyes visibly and turned back to the cool air. Everything felt stuffy and too much and more than anything he wanted to go back to bed and get naked. Maybe have a cool shower at some point. He felt like a mermaid out of water for fucks sake.

He stepped back enough to close the door as he finished his drink. Of course that pressed him back against Dom but he tried to ignore the rush of heat and electricity that flashed when their skin touched. He took a shaking breath and walked away, stopping at the counter to retrieve his toast and when he turned to the island to prepare his simple breakfast he felt tracked and trapped like prey. He wouldn't look directly at his partner, it felt like a challenge, but he could see him watching from the corner of his eye and felt the weight of his gaze like a touch on his skin. “If you're hungry I'll make you some toast.” He offered but his voice felt thready. Dom just chuckled and went for a glass of water at the sink.

Col felt as if he could take a breath when his mate was distracted and it gave him a moment to butter his bread. The first bite tasted like heaven and just proved how many calories he'd burned. He was starving but it felt like a pit he'd never fill. He was famished for so much more than food. “Actually I am about ready to eat.” He didn't even hear the Alpha move until he was whispering in his ear and he full body shivered as the shorter man pressed himself against his back. He tried to ignore him, he fought to focus on his food. It was a small meal and he knew he only needed a few moments but with his lover kissing his neck it was hard to focus on anything.

Dominic growled when he realized he was being disregarded. He didn't like it on a good day because it felt too much like when he was young but now his instincts were roaring that his omega wasn't allowed to do that. His cock ached in his shorts where it was pressed against the other's ass but it wasn't enough. It couldn't be. His hands ghosted down Col’s sides until he gripped the sides of his sweats and he tugged them down to his knees. Colson scoffed but didn't show any other response to his play and just continued eating. It drove him mad that he could act like that. “Ignore me all ya want princess but I can smell ‘ow wet you are. Pussy a mess for me. Ya sweats already stained. Ya mind may be able to ignore me but ya body is begging me wiv ya scent to bend ya over and make you cum. Breed you. I bet if I jus’ wait like ‘is you'll make a puddle on the floor.”

Dom was right about that at least and Colson knew it. If his partner just stood there long enough, his energy and scent and touch all over him, he'd drip and drip until the floor underneath them was drenched. He was also correct in his assessment that his body was begging for his Alpha's knot but he didn't want to show it. He was already so hard it hurt and his core felt swollen with need. His heartbeat was throbbing in his cunt and if he didn't get filled soon he might actually cry. It was a strange juxtaposition since he was mentally fighting all of it and trying to remain bored. “This has got to be some kind of health hazard. Biological- um… bio- shit.” He couldn't make his language function properly, his mind felt too cloudy already as Dom all but made out with his throat.

“Should I put it…” Dom trailed off, his voice already shot. His palms groped at Col’s ass and he spread him open, one thumb hooking teasingly in his hole. He was still just slightly open from the toy fuck the day before and the sight of his pretty pink insides was almost too much for the boy. It was barely a glimpse, his mate was always so tight but he wanted to open him up and play with his guts. Wait- He wasn't sure if he meant that sexually or otherwise but with the older man it was always a mix of both and he'd never hurt him. He tugged a little more before shoving his thumb deeper. He let it stay a moment to enjoy the overwhelming heat but he pulled free and moved his hand further down. With his other he pushed Kells to lean over and he stepped back, his gaze dropping to stare at even pinker skin. Wetter. Beautiful.

“You're growling again.” Col tried to tease but it felt like a whimper. It was an odd position he was in and he had no idea what his mate was planning, his stomach was flipping at the prospect of taking a foot of cock in his ass. He was trembling but he tried to finish his meal. He was sure there were more crumbs on the counter than he had bread in his belly but there wasn't much he could do about it. His Alpha was boss for the time being.

“You're talking again when ya should be…” Dom trailed off and elbowed Colson's legs wider. He slipped a finger through his lover's folds and spit on his already wet skin. When Kells couldn't hold back a soft moan he grinned. “Tha’ yeah. Do more of it.”

“Make me.” The omega shrugged and he knew it was throwing down a gauntlet to challenge a beast. Every touch made him shiver and every sound was almost too much. He felt almost overstimulated which didn't make any sense but Dom was the only thing calming him. He was the only thing that didn't feel maddening.

A dark chuckle danced over his skin as his lover stepped closer again and he felt his cockhead teasing from one hole to the other and back again. “You lucky I'm in rut or I might be quite a pain in ya arse right now.” He joked. “But… I don't fink tha's wha' either of us need. Is it?”

Col's palms slapped down on the marble but he kept himself from speaking out loud. His body spoke for him even though he fought it, his ass canting back when he felt Dom close to his cunt again. Dom growled low and pressed forward, their thrust matching and sliding them together. His dick hit home and his hands searched out the cold counter so he could lock his prey- his partner in place. He wanted to grab the man's hips but he worried he'd already bruised him so instead he held on tight and hoped his didn't break the marble.

“Careful. Don't- it's expensive.” Colson groaned when he worried he heard something snap. When he felt fabric falling against the skin of his legs he realized it was just his sweats. His mate had him far too spread out and he'd broken them. Of course in his eagerness he had to destroy something, the omega was just glad it wasn't himself. Yet.

“Ain't ‘eard tha' in a bit.” Dom laughed but it quickly faded to a groan. The squeeze of his lover's inner walls was too much for glee, it pushed him straight to nirvana. His hips rocked forward and back in a brutal pace, sweat breaking out over every inch of them both. Their skin was trying to stick together wherever they touched which for once wasn't near as much as it normally was. He was well and truly making his omega present for him, the man was bent over like a bitch in heat. The only place they fully touched was where they were joined, where they fucked rough and quick and dirty. “Fink we'll get caught?” He rasped but he knew they could be heard easily if anyone got close enough to the doors. It was oddly exhilarating to risk being seen. Funny since they'd purposely been watched the day before.

It felt filthy to be bent over and fucked where they ate but somehow that just pushed Col even closer. That golden edge was rushing to him no matter how little he gave into the pleasure. He was being used like a fuck doll and he loved every second. He felt worshiped even though he was barely touched. He felt desperate for more and cast adrift. His cock was aching where it was grinding between his belly and the counter top but it was distant to the rapture in his core. He was being bounced like a fucking pin ball between Dom and the island and he couldn't wait for the neon explosion showing they won.

Dom's feet started to slip on the floor, he was pounding his lover so hard and his omega was truly that soaked already. He gripped the top harder and tried to keep his balance, he was too far gone to stop and get his footing safer. The slap of his balls against Colson's skin echoed louder off the walls than it ever did in their bedroom. It would make him blush if he ever felt much shame.

“Can't- can't knot me. Not here.” The boss panted out but his voice broke off in a moan. The thought almost broke him but they both knew they couldn't be locked together that long in a room everyone used. They already weren't being fair. His thighs burned as he matched his mate thrust for thrust. He realized as he stared down at himself in the black marble that he definitely hadn't had enough to drink. His hands were slippery on the counter and he was pretty sure he'd already spilled it back out in his sweat and slick.

“Fine. You better bloody- fuckme- cum for me ‘en.” The Alpha growled as he sped up his moves and angled his dick just right. It wasn't hard for him, it already hit everything that brought his lover pleasure. Hell, half of it would do. His chest heaved for breath but he kept rolling, his palms dropping to finally grope Colson's thighs. He couldn't stop himself anymore. He knew he was leaving marks and he swore mentally to kiss them better later but his inner monster loved the idea of marking up his mate's beautiful inked skin. He felt the squeeze of the omega's pussy get tighter, that telltale clenching that promised he was about to gush. He didn't move an inch or change a thing, he knew damn well better than that by now.

“Al- Alphaaa!” Col’s voice went high pitched as that coil in his belly snapped and he felt himself shatter. Slick painted his thighs and Dom's as his cock jerked pearly white on the dark marble. His palms slapped down again, he didn't know what the fuck to do with his hands. His body felt alive like nothing else could make him feel but he wouldn't be satisfied until Dom- “Fuck!”

Kells cried out as the killer pulled his dick free and his hands made quick work of turning him around. Once they were face to face the Alpha started pushing him to his knees before stroking himself fast and hard. It took the older man a moment to catch up, his body was still wracked with pleasure. When he finally realized what his Alpha was demanding of him his jaw went slack from surprise. Of course the boy took that as permission and he supposed it was. He wouldn't deny his fiancé, not when he'd just cum like that.

Dom’s cockhead barely fit inside his lover's mouth, he was almost too wide for Kells to blow him and he normally wouldn't ask. He had to spill in some part of Colson and while he'd prefer knotting his cunt, his lips would have to do. He couldn't stop himself long enough to make their way to bed. The sight of Col's lips straining to stretch around his dick had him trembling and he fought himself not to thrust. One hand made a fist around his knot and the other stroked himself off. The squeeze wasn't perfect but it was enough. His mate was always perfect even if his instincts were raging for him to breed.

Colson felt even more a sex doll on his knees in the middle of his kitchen with his mouth stuffed full of his lover's cock. He suckled as best he could and stared up at the man he knew he'd be fucking again before long. Would they make it back to bed for the next round? The first spurt of cum painted his tongue and tickled the back of his throat. He couldn't help but moan at the taste and he saw what the vibrations did to his Alpha. Dom's red gaze never left his as he jacked himself off inside his omega's waiting mouth. Their taste were combined on the soft skin of his shaft and he tried to lick it clean but he was just drooling a mess. He was quickly distracted by the look of rapture on the killer's face as his orgasm hit in earnest.

Dom normally went quiet in his pleasure but he was sure he was growling through it now. He stripped himself rough and watched his lover try to swallow every drop that emptied down his throat. His knees felt weak but he held himself up and with their eyes still locked he knew something. He wouldn't be able to wait long before dragging his mate somewhere they could join the right way. He needed more. He needed everything.

Colson choked when his partner spilled too fast but he tried to catch as much as he could. It felt like too much of a waste to let it land anywhere else, his hormones were screaming that it should all be buried in his womb. He was sure he looked like a mess, he could feel his eyes and sinuses burn but his fiancé watched him as if he was the most beautiful thing and it made him wet all over again. Maybe he was still cumming too, he honestly wasn't sure.

“Fuck ‘is.” Dom huffed before he gently pushed Col off his cock and he pulled his shorts back up to tuck himself away.

“What? What's wrong?” Kells mumbled, his lips felt numb as hell and his emotions too sensitive.

“Nuffin. You perfect. Too fucking perfect.” Dominic grumbled as if he were annoyed by the fact. He just pulled his partner up and got him covered too. The moment he was presentable enough the Alpha pulled him up and into his arms. “We going to bed. You need me in ya guts but not like tha'.”

“I… need you?” He whimpered back. He wasn't doubting but it felt an odd way to phrase it since he wasn't the one in his cycle. He assumed it was just his inner beast needing to be in control and prideful.

“Don't yas?” Dom stopped walking and looked down at him. For once he didn't look scared or shaken, just playful and sure of himself. It made Col’s pussy tingle and his heart flutter.

“More than anything. Breed me?” The plea made Dom crave him too much and instead of carrying him off he leaned down and pressed their lips together. These weren't come down kisses, they were raw and desperate, wet and messy. Their teeth clinked and their tongues twined, their spit mingling between them until they both tasted like their sex. Kells fed him their combined flavor and he savored every bit. The omega groaned when he felt himself pressed against a wall and somehow Dom managed to turn him in his hold until he could wrap his legs around the Alpha's waist and his arms around his neck. “Breed me?” He begged again.

They fell against every surface possible until they reached their bedroom door and fell through it until eventually Colson found himself sitting on top of his dresser. Dom was wedged so tight between his thighs that the killer could barely get a hand between them but once he did he ripped the fabric of Col’s sweatpants. He pushed his own shorts down only enough to free his cock before he was easing himself back inside where he belonged. Their moans echoed together and their lips tried to stay locked, mostly they just panted each other's air and clung together.

They didn't thrust, they couldn't handle being that far apart. Dom just kept his dick deep and grinded. Their touches wandered the drenched skin of the other as they writhed out their rapture again. It took no time at all for his knot to pop, it had barely had time to go down. Nails clawed at pale skin when Col hit that peak and pulled Dom over that edge with him. The omega pushed against the furniture and knocked his mate off kilter until the psycho stumbled back and fell against the mattress. Their bodies kept rocking until every drop could be spilled, their bodies soaked and shaking.

“Better?” Kells teased, though his voice was barely above a breath.

“Perfect.” Dom sighed happily and spent. He was sure it wasn't over yet but at least the need was quenched for the moment. “I love you.” He tried to fix the roughness he'd shown with gentle words and a soft kiss but he knew his lover found him just as sweet no matter what he did.

“I know. I love you too, you corny bitch.” He grinned and Dom smiled back. He wasn't sure if they were done with the other's cycle but it was the quiet moments they shared that made their bond even stronger. He just hoped they had enough time between rounds now to fit in time for him to feed their son.

“You was so fucking sexy talking out ya plan and being a good mum. I fink a night out at the club would be good. Love to see ya dance for me.” Dom purred, gently caressing his partner's cheek with his knuckles.

“Woah there cowboy, I don't fucking dance and you're not allowed to watch the girls either.”

“I don't want ‘em girls. Jus' you.”

“Fine, but if we're making a show of my strength and the omega's he fucking with, maybe you should be the one dancing for me.” The boss teased back before sighing. “It's gonna be fucking weird leaving the apartment but I think it's the best we got right now. Either he'll be scared off or he'll be dumb enough to make a damn move and then we can off his ass in self defense. Maybe it'll be nice to get out and feel like myself again but we need to be careful with Blain. I'm worried he still loves this bastard.”

“We'll figure it out. Ain't like we can go out yet anyways.” The killer hummed, pulling his mate in for another kiss. They would deal with the trouble when they had to, for now they were too wrapped up in each other and part of him, as exhausted as he was already, never wanted his rut to end. It was the first one he actually found himself enjoying any part of.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 💛

They can never stay apart too long but this one might be the record 🤭 I don't think Dom is the only one in his cycle but I suppose we'll see. Their plan might be interesting but let's hope James isn't listening and will hopefully be willing to back down. If only for Blain. I just feel bad for whoever has to clean the kitchen 😂 I hope you're still enjoying their story, the plot will return soon ❤️‍🔥🖤

[winchester-girl67]

My Father's Daughter

Summary: Y/N gets nervous when her anti-possession tattoo heals overnight. On her second attempt to make it stick she meets a boy that she might have more in common with then she thinks.

Requested by @rachelcarroll1819​ : “Can you do ome where the readers is the daughter of luicfer that john and bobby found as a baby bobby ends up raising her as his owns then when angels show up her powers finally show up also and sje in a relationship with either dean or sam ( whichever works for me)”

Pairing: Dean x Nephilim!reader

Square: Tattoo @supernatural-jackles​

Word Count: 5,805

Warnings: some SPN spoilers for season 12-15 (mainly surrounding Jack, and nephilim), not canon, language, adoption and related topics, implied relationship with Dean before the reader’s 18th birthday (reader and Dean are both 18), implied minor allergic reaction, injured!Dean, injuried!reader, blood, a little violence (involving guns/angel blades), angst, a little pining, kissing, fluff

A/N: This is before Castiel joins the Winchester’s side, I also took some liberties with the nephilim lore. Jack is such a fun character to write for, I had to include him in this request… Enjoy :) Also written for @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo.

_____

“What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks?” You gasped at your reflection in the mirror. “Balls, that can’t be a good sign.”

You held open the collar of your flannel and traced your fingers over the unblemished flesh below your collarbone. It was easy to ignore when it happened the first time. A pencil standing on its point for three seconds longer than it should’ve was easy to play off as an illusion soaked in extreme boredom at the time. Strange occurrences were common especially around the Winchesters or anyone involved with the Winchesters, but this was- wasn’t possible. It was your eighteenth birthday yesterday and Dean brought you to get your first tattoo, an anti-possession symbol. You had it inked into the left side of your chest over your breast, just like him, but now it was gone as if it had... healed.

You decided not to tell anyone and buttoned your shirt a little higher than usual. You would just go back to the tattoo parlour today before you met up with Dean. You kept the little anomalies like this to yourself more often than not lately, after finding out you were adopted and who your biological father really was. Lucifer. Talk about daddy issues. You didn’t want anyone finding out that you had inherited anything from him. Eighteen years without a single sign of angelic anything and now you couldn’t deny there was something filtering through you, trying to get out. It felt like power.

“Meeting Dean this early, pumpkin?” Your father, Bobby, asked as you bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen. You nodded, not wanting to lie to him but it was for the best, “Do your old man a favour and grab something to eat before you head out.”

“Alright, dad.” You said, grabbing an apple from the fridge.

“You make sure that boy gets you home in time for dinner,” he cocked an eyebrow at you, “I mean it this time, Y/N. I will get my shotgun out if you’re a minute past six, got it?”

You were his little girl, but he wouldn’t actually shoot Dean, right?

You laughed and nodded, playing it off as a joke. He could only be about eighty-percent serious, at most. You didn’t have a curfew but tonight was an exception. There were family and friends and family-friends, coming over to celebrate your birthday, since yesterday was a weekday and Bobby had steaks marinating in the fridge.

“We’ll be home on time, promise. Bye, daddy.” You pecked him on the cheek and turned his cap around so the visor was in the back.

“Always with the damn hat,” he grumbled as he fixed it back to the front.

You giggled as you twirled out of the room and bit into your apple. You took a couple of bites before holding it between your lips as you laced up your boots and slipped on your jacket.

Outside, you chucked the core into the tall grass opposite the house and climbed onto your motorcycle. You started it up and pulled your hair into a quick braid for the wind, otherwise it would tangle to an extent that could never be brushed out, and took your helmet off the handlebars. You secured the strap under your chin and revved the engine as you kicked it into gear, fish-tailing around before speeding off down the laneway.

Leaves were changing colour and it was cooler outside now. For a moment you wished you had remembered your gloves but you would power through, the tattoo parlour wasn’t too far away anyway. You chose a different parlour across town than the one Dean had brought you to, just in case the artist that tattooed you the day before was on shift today too. Too many questions would be asked and you didn't have the answers.

It was easier this time around, since you knew what to expect and how much it would sting, but you hated that Dean wasn’t there to hold your hand. The woman wiped away the excess ink when she was done the final flame and held up a mirror for you to see. You grinned at the permanent ink, marring your flesh the same way it did Sam and Dean and Bobby and every other hunter you knew.

To anyone else, they’d probably think it was odd but to you it meant protection and family. It was pretty, even with the red raw edges that would eventually flatten out as your skin healed. You loved the way new tattoos raised the skin and appeared to jump out at you. You felt like a badass sporting your fresh ink and bit your lip at your excited smile.

The artist snapped a pic for her portfolio and the shop’s website and you noticed a boy about your age smiling at you from behind the gap in the privacy curtains. He was sitting in the waiting area with his hands on his knees and just staring. At. You.

“Hello.” He said when you passed him on your way out.

His blonde hair was combed to the side, unlike Dean’s whose was always spiked up like an angry hedgehog. You gave him a nod of your head and nothing more. Glancing back at the parlour as you climbed onto your motorcycle, partially just to make sure he didn’t follow you out. He didn’t give off any creeper vibes but he was… odd.

“Ow,” you hissed suddenly as your chest burned. You pulled aside your flannel to see the tattoo glowing white hot before it fizzled out. Your body healing itself again and your tattoo disappearing. You looked up at the tattoo parlour sullenly, there would be no point in trying again. “Shit-balls.”

Just when you thought puberty was over. What the hell was going on with your body now? All you could think was that your bio-dad’s genes were finally kicking in.

It would be easy enough to hide it from Bobby, not so much Dean. Things were getting heated between you two lately and it was inevitable that he’d see you in a bra again. The thing was, the only people who knew about your bio-dad were John, who had passed away a couple years ago and Bobby, who promised never to tell another living soul; especially the boys. Sam would probably understand but he was four years younger than you and he couldn’t keep a secret from his older brother. Dean on the other hand, thought of things in black and white and anything tainted with the blood of a monster must be a monster in and of itself. And Lucifer was a monster, you heard the stories.

You wanted to be like Bobby, not your bio-dad and you wanted Dean to keep loving you. Which you weren’t entirely sure was possible if you told him that you were a nephilim. Until recently you had been questioning it yourself but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness surrounding you anymore or the dreams you’d been having of a man with glowing red eyes, a raspy voice calling out to you. You always woke up in a cold sweat and now you were thinking they might be more than just dreams. Maybe if you’d said something Bobby could help you make them stop.

You started up your motorcycle and pulled on your helmet, glancing back at the parlour one last time and watching as the blonde boy walked down the steps. He still had a smile on his face when his blue eyes met yours and he raised his hand to wave. Then he started walking towards you and you didn’t stick around to find out what he wanted. You weren’t in the mood to be hit on, although you didn’t get that vibe from him. He had more of an innocence about him. You still weren't in the mood.

You must’ve drove past the laneway to your house six times before you decided you couldn’t face your father or everyone else who had congregated there for your birthday dinner. Bobby had bragged about you finally getting your anti-possession tattoo and becoming a real hunter and what if someone asked to see it? How could you explain that?

You went to the one quiet place where you could always think. The graveyard on the west side of town. You didn’t know anyone there but you felt it was nice if someone visited them from time to time. You were always respectful and you liked to sit on the bench at the back between the overgrown trees. The spot was hidden from the road and you could hear the resident owl from time to time.

It was late now and well past six, when dinner was supposed to be ready. Bobby would likely be fuming or worried as hell, probably both. On the brightside, Dean would be with him and everyone else so Bobby would have no reason to blame him or shoot him. Except it was possible he still might try.

You checked your phone to find too many messages from both Bobby and Dean, all asking where you were and when you were getting back. One more recent one asking if you were in trouble. You typed off an ‘I’m fine’ when you heard the leaves crunch under the weight of a sneaker.

You whipped your head around to find the blonde boy from the tattoo parlour peeking out from behind the trunk of a tree. He smiled brightly as he slowly approached you, waving again and if you were about to make a run for it, you no longer felt the need.

“Hello, I’m Jack. I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. This is my first time..." he paused, seemingly struggling to find the word, "-talking." He grinned again.

“O-okay.”

Did he just break some sort of oath-of-silence or something?

You were still skeptical even if you weren’t scared. He wasn’t all that big, kinda skinny, you could take him in a fight if you had to.

“Are you following me?” You asked, he smiled and nodded like he didn’t understand how creepy it was to admit to following someone. “Why, -the fuck?” You almost laughed, it was so awkward, but you settled for a single puff of air. “How’d you find me?”

"I've been looking for you, I’ve been wanting to meet you, you're not easy to find, I can only sense you some of the time -This place is nice." He glanced around, it was hardly the word you would use to describe a graveyard but what-the-hay there were stranger things at foot, “You seem troubled. Can I help?"

"Um, no? I'm just a bit confused. You ‘sensed’ me?" You asked, squinting your eyes up at him.

"You put off an energy when you're stressed and I could tell you needed me. It smells like... sour strawberries -Are strawberries good?" He asked and tilted his head. Dude was weird, but probably harmless.

“Um, yeah, when they have chocolate on them, otherwise they make my tongue feel funny.” You shrugged, Dean had bought you chocolate covered strawberries for Valentine’s day, almost made it worth the itchy throat. “Why do you think I need you? I don't need you, I don't even know you.”

“We have more in common than you think.” He alluded and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face as he stood there.

“I’m getting impatient, Jack, and you won’t like me when I’m impatient.” You quipped and he tilted his head in confusion. Dean was rubbing off on you, after all those hours watching ‘classic’ movies with him. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you feel so familiar?” That was the feeling you were picking up from him, a closeness; you finally figured it out.

“I’m your brother.”

Your face blanched, “The only person I’d consider a brother is Sammy -even if it is a little awkward since I am dating his actual brother- but we’re not related, we just grew up together, sort of... our dad’s knew each other and we hung out… quite a bit actually but that’s not the point. I don’t have blood relatives, up here, anyway.”

“But we have one in common, down there." Jack pointed as he laughed and sat down beside you.

You scooched over to the end of the bench, "So... Your father...?"

"Is Lucifer, yes, and so is yours." He said.

Did he always smile? He seemed too cheery to be a descendant of the Devil himself. At least you had the decency to be unbearably irritable once a month.

"Prove it," you smirked back snidely. Yup, too much time around Dean.

"Okay," he pulled a long silver blade from his jacket, one you knew as an angel blade and levitated it in the air. He moved his fingers and the blade mimicked his motions. "Pretty cool, huh?"

You nodded and remembered the pencil; could you do something like that someday? Maybe you had to focus more or less, he didn't seem to put much effort into it.

"Do you want to try?" He asked, grabbing the blade from mid air and handing it over to you. "It's easy, just focus on what you want it to do and make it happen."

You focused on the blade in your hands and squinted your eyes, picturing it spinning in a circle like a top. You almost burst a blood vessel in your eye before you huffed and gave up, "It's no use! I can't do it."

"You're just trying too hard. We can work on it," he smiled again and you handed him back the blade.

Jack wasn't a threat, somehow you just knew, but how long was he planning on staying? And if he stayed you'd have to explain yourself and him to Bobby, that wasn't something you were looking forward to.

"Do you have any tattoos?" You asked.

"No, should I?" He asked, his smile fell and he looked worried for a moment as if you wouldn't like him if he didn't.

"I tried to get one, twice now, but it keeps healing." You pulled open your flannel a little to touch the skin where the tattoo should've been. "Kinda sucks, you know? I've been injured on hunts before and I have scars, so it doesn't make any sense to me. Why now?"

"Maybe..." he thought and tucked the blade back into his jacket, "Your powers are only developing now because you grew up slowly. You had a normal adolescence."

"I'd hardly call my childhood normal," you rolled your eyes. You were raised as a hunter and Bobby took you out for target practice every Sunday and when John and the boys were in town, you would have to participate in sparring and weapons training, all before you could read. And when you could read, lore was added to your studies along with your typical -normal school work. "How come you have your powers already then? You're about my age."

"I had to grow up faster than you, there are things -people here that want to hurt me and I needed them to protect myself." He explained, “That’s probably why yours are just showing up, your body feels it too.”

“Feels what?”

“Our father, his return.”

“Bio-dad, Lucifer?” You huffed, “Uh-yeah, I don’t think so. My surrogate dad sealed him in a cage eighteen years ago with the late-great John Winchester, you might’ve heard of him? Trust me, dude, we’re safe.”

“You can’t feel him? Maybe I can help you along,” Jack reached out to touch your forehead with two fingers and before you could push his hand away your body was flooded with images, feelings, light, dark, energy -it was too much and you pulled away, trying to catch your breath and blink away the numbing headache.

You gulped and met his blue eyes, “How are you only a day old?!”

Not only had he transferred everything he felt to you but also every memory he ever had, tracing back to even when they were just feelings in the womb of his mother. You didn’t remember any of the same stuff from your own life. How could you be the same but totally different? You were stressed beyond belief, your mind racing a mile a minute and that’s when you noticed the pulsing light coming from your palms.

“Um, Jack,” you said, inspecting your palms and turning them to face him as the light got brighter and pulsed more frequently with every heavy heartbeat. “What’s happening to me?”

“I helped you find your powers, they were -uh… hidden. I just pulled them to the surface so now you can access them.” He smiled and you gaped as a single pulse of light left your palms, hitting Jack like a force field and knocking him off the bench. He landed a good ten metres away but shook it off and stood back up, “-Ouch.”

Voices filled your mind as if multiple people were whispering in your ears all at once and they kept getting louder and louder until all you heard was a blaring hiss as if a radio was in the midst of tuning. You fell off the bench, clutching your ears with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as if it would help.

You screamed over the noise though you couldn’t hear yourself, “Jack! Jack!”

You felt his hands rest over yours and a moment later the noise faded away. You sighed and blinked open your eyes. Your ears felt as if they were bleeding and you touched them to check.

“What the balls was that?” You asked, catching your breath.

“Angel radio, I forgot to warn you it can be overwhelming but you’ll get the hang of it. It gets easier to tune out with practice.” Jack said, helping you to your feet.

“I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“All I really heard was buzzing, will I be able to understand them? When I get the hang of it.” You could hardly believe this was your life now, hearing angelic voices in your head and pulsing shockwaves from your palms.

“Yes,” he nodded, “The pain will always be there though.”

“What were they saying?” You asked, noticing the dirt on your jeans and brushing off your knees.

“It was a distress signal about Lucifer.” Jack explained, brushing some crumpled bits of dried leaves from your shoulder.

You heard someone approach, heavy on their heels, “Get away from her!” Dean yelled with his gun drawn, eyeing Jack like he was ready to kill.

But you didn’t want him to hurt Jack, your little brother, “Dean, No!” You spun around and held up a hand. You didn’t mean to release another shockwave and it sent Dean flying into the tree behind him. He hit it back first and slumped to the ground, unconscious. “DEAN!”

You ran to him and cradled him in your arms, pulling his head to your chest. Tears welled in your eyes and dripped onto his cheeks as you curled over him and rocked back and forth. You didn’t know if it was your new powers but you could tell he wasn’t okay. He hit his head hard and you didn’t even know if he’d wake back up.

“Stay right there, boy.” You heard your father’s voice warn Jack as he approached you.

“Daddy?” You sobbed.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, he’s gonna be okay.” Bobby crouched next to you and inspected Dean’s head. His hand was covered in blood when he touched the back of it. He frowned and scrubbed the other palm over his scruff, “Oh, balls! Hang on, Dean.”

“Y/N,” Jack risked a step forward even with Bobby’s gun still trained on him. “I can help him. I’ve done it before.”

He had, hadn’t he? A single memory of Jack healing his birth mom while still in her womb came to mind. He wasn’t lying. You nodded and put your hand on Bobby’s gun to lower it. You weren’t even sure at this point if a bullet could even hurt him... or you anymore. Now that you feel more angelic than human.

Jack knelt next to Dean and laid a hand on his head. His fingers glowed a warm gold, the same colour as his irises and you felt Dean’s body react; his heart stabilizing with stronger beats and his breathing evening out until he began to stir. You watched intently as his green eyes fluttered open and you wiped away your tears, then dried his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he locked eyes with you.

He stared up at you, registering all that just happened and then a shot rang through your ears. Dean sat up and pushed away from you, his gun smoking in his hand and you looked down at your chest. Where he shot you.

“Idjit! What did you do?!” Bobby yelled at Dean and tried to inspect your wound. It actually didn’t hurt all that much and when you opened your shirt, the same golden glow you’d seen moments ago healed the wound until it was as if it was never there.

“That’s not Y/N! What are you, you bitch?! What did you do with her?!” Dean shouted, raising his gun again. "I swear if you hurt her-"

“Boy, you better put that gun down if you wanna see your next birthday.” Bobby warned and Dean glanced between you both, noting that he was the one out of the loop. He lowered the gun but kept it ready on his thigh and felt the back of his head curiously. “I was wonderin’ when those nephilim powers of yours would kick in, the only question I got is... Who in the holy balls is this guy?” Bobby asked, nudging his head towards Jack.

You always loved how he could incorporate balls into any sentence whether it fit or not and you guessed you did it too; you were your father’s daughter after all.

“He’s -um, my brother. Half-brother.” You said and glanced back at Jack who smiled and held a hand up as if to shake your father’s. Bobby didn’t reciprocate though and you added, “On my bio-dad’s side, obviously.”

It was well known that a human mother couldn't survive the birth of a nephilim child. Your note was more to tip off Bobby to shut up in front of Dean about it. Not that Bobby took the hint since he probably felt the cat was out of the bag anyways.

“So, good-old Lucy got sprung from the cage, eh? I figured that would happen eventually -was hoping for more time though.” Bobby grunted and fixed his cap like he did when he was unnerved and not wanting to show it.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t have a fucking clue what in the hell is going on? Y/N?!” Dean huffed and furrowed his brow.

“I -um,” you didn’t know how to explain. “I -um, I’m adopted. Surprise.”

“You’re Lucifer’s daughter?” Dean asked, catching on quickly.

The light in his eyes dimmed at the idea and you knew you needed to correct him and fast.

"No! No, I am Bobby’s daughter and I suppose... a by-product of Lucifer’s sperm donation.”

Dean nodded, then cringed. "That’s kind of gross.”

“I’m still me, Dean, the girl you’re in love with but won’t ever admit it to.” You said, hoping for him to see you the same way he did before. “I’m the same girl.”

“No, you’re not. Your eyes are different.” He stared hard like he was trying to see past something.

You looked to Bobby as if he had the answers, “Your eyes are glowing, pumpkin.”

You imagined your reflection with the eyes you’d seen Jack wear when his powers filtered through him. Then you felt it, the difference, you weren’t in control of them yet, they manifested with the waves in your emotions. It was extremely hard to control.

“Jack, how do I make it stop?” You asked and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Take a deep breath and let it go.” Jack said.

You didn’t think it could really be that fucking easy, but gave it a try. When you opened your eyes again you could feel the light dimming and then extinguish. You were exhausted.

“I wanna go home.” You looked to your father and he nodded. Jack’s smile seemed to turn upside down and you added, “Can Jack come too?”

“Might as well, party’s cleared out anyhow.” Bobby stood up and eyed Jack, sizing him up. You could tell your father didn’t trust him yet, but you knew Jack was good, you could feel it.

“Sorry I missed the party.” You stood up and hugged Bobby.

“Don’t worry about it, pumpkin.” He patted your back and ruffled up your hair when you broke the hug. You frowned and tried to tuck the loose strands of hair back into your braid. “We should get outta here before-”

You heard what could only be described as a rush of feathers before a bald man in a suit appeared before you, "Hello, Robert.”

“It’s Bobby, jackass.”

There was another louder rush and two others appeared next to him. One of them oddly wore a trench-coat over his suit. You knew instantly that these men were angels. You could see their halos shine brightly above their heads. A side effect of finally getting your nephilim powers you assumed. In all your time hunting you hadn't come across any angels, you never wanted to either based off of the stories Bobby and other hunters told you.

"Zachariah," Bobby said, nodding at the bald angel before him, then the other in the tight suit, "Uriel... long time, no see."

You knew from your studies that Uriel was an archangel, by far more powerful than the others, even if he seemed to let Zachariah take charge at the moment.

“I thought we had an understanding." Zachariah continued, "If the nephilim child showed any signs of getting her powers you were supposed to contact me, right away."  

“Like you wouldn’t have known, don’t you have some sort of angelic radar? As soon as the kid showed any signs of grace you'd feel it. That’s why you’re here isn’t it.” Bobby snapped back at the man, or angel wearing some poor sap as a meat-suit like a demon would.

“Precisely, which is why we wanted to avoid an event large enough to attract our attention. She hurt the boy, didn't she? That could've been avoided. She is an abomination and she will offset the order of the universe, given the time; there’s only one way to deal with this sort of thing... Castiel.”

The angel wearing the trench-coat stepped forward with a stoic face as if he was about to carry out some unspoken order. Like a good little soldier of heaven. An angel blade dropped into his hand from his shirtsleeve and he advanced towards you. You stumbled back and Jack grabbed your hand and puffed out his chest. Castiel stopped in his tracks just as both your eyes began to glow.

“That can’t be.” Castiel said as he backed off. He glanced back at Zachariah and then disappeared with a flutter of his wings. At least he knew when he was outranked.

The others however, Zachariah and Uriel, did not retreat and advanced upon you. Each with their own angel blade in hand. You and Jack channeled your powers together and raised your hands. You released a joint shockwave that blew them apart to mere atoms which floated away in the wind like snowflakes on a cold winter day. Your power alone was great, but together it was unmatched.

There would be no issues destroying or caging Lucifer when the time came for it. But you would have to find him first. Or maybe he would find you now that your powers had emerged. Apparently it sent up a pretty big blip on the angelic radar or whatever Bobby called it and Lucifer was probably still connected to that, right? Or at least had some sort of version of it.

"Holy hell,” Bobby cursed, “Come on, Y/N, we best be getting home before someone or something else comes looking for them or who did that to 'em."

You let your father lead the way to his truck and towed Jack along with you. Meanwhile Dean trailed behind keeping a watchful eye on your new found brother. All the while not saying much.

He didn't say anything actually, not even when you remembered your motorcycle. He just took the keys from you so you could drive back with your family. Or maybe he just didn't want to be squished into the cab of that old Ford with a being more powerful than an archangel -that was born yesterday- and your father. Bobby was super protective of you, and Dean and his relationship was strained because of that. It was a miracle they drove here together without someone getting shot now that you thought of it.

And Dean's silent treatment continued for days longer than any fight you'd had with him since you had gotten together. You didn't even know if you were still together anymore. So to say you were surprised to see him show up when Bobby and Jack went out on a day trip for some bonding, was an understatement.

"Hiya, sweetheart." Dean said, standing in the front doorway and glancing behind you, his eyes searching the space. "Bobby out?" He asked, you nodded, "How 'bout your -uh... b-brother?"

"You mean Jack?" You asked, he'd probably just forgotten his name. Dean gave you a soft smile and nodded twice, "Yeah, s'just me home. Why, you come to snuff out the monsters? One abomination at a time?"

Dean pushed his brows together and frowned down at you. "Listen, girly-"

"Girly?!-"

"Y/N," Dean pleaded, slipping your name off his tongue with his hands held up as if to pose no threat. "I know Bobby said you needed time and you didn't wanna talk to me, but I just gotta get this off my chest and then I'm gone, okay? Can you just listen? Please."

That wasn't true. Bobby lied. But you motioned for him to continue anyways.

"I was pissed at you. For not telling me, not trusting me. You were there for me when my father-" Dean choked up and cleared his throat. His eyes watered as he searched for the right words to say, "I just -I didn't understand why you didn't want me there for you, so I blamed you. But then I thought about it, really thought about it and it's no wonder you couldn't trust me, hell, why would you? All I've ever done is maim and kill-"

You'd heard enough, "Dean, I trust you! Nothing's ever going to change that and I didn't tell my dad to tell you shit. You just looked so hurt, I didn't know how to reach out and thought maybe you didn't want me to." You chewed on your lip before you decided to swallow your embarrassment and rolled your eyes at yourself, "Fuck it, I love you." It was the first time either of you said that out loud, "And I know at one point you felt the same about me and I guess, I'm just hoping that's still the case?"

Dean gave a delicate nod and shrug of his shoulders, "You'll always belong with me, Y/N." He confessed and stepped forward to wrap his arms around you. You let him and he pressed his forehead to yours. "And I care about you, too."

It hurt a little that he didn't say it back, but that was close enough for you. Dean wasn't touchy-feely in the case of emotions and you didn't need to make him say it. You felt it in the way he clutched you to him and you sunk into his embrace.

Dean pressed a hard kiss to your temple and another open lipped kiss to your cheek. You felt the heat of his breath on your lips before his mouth molded to yours and your tongues touched. His movements were slow and passionate and when his fingertips touched that ticklish spot on your neck you giggled into the kiss.

He felt like coming home; safety and warmth in his arms. Even if you didn't need protecting anymore, it was nice. It was the first time in days you let yourself relax and it seemed like you weren't the only one.

Dean pulled away to let you catch your breath and you slowly blinked open your eyes to meet his. He let out a breathy chuckle and his forehead fell to yours again, his eyes admiring yours with an amused grin on his face.

"Your eyes are glowing," he breathed and sucked on his bottom lip. "You are so damn beautiful.” And he brushed the hair from your face. “You’re everything to me.” You felt his eyelashes brush your cheek and his hand sink from your lower back to grip your butt cheek. "You’re my everything.”

Your cheeks instantly hurt from smiling so bright at his words.

His other hand met on your backside and you squealed when he squeezed hard enough to bruise, but only for a second. Dean chuckled, slapped your butt and kissed you again. And you got lost in it.

Until the backdoor slammed shut, “Boy, get your damn hands off my daughter!" Bobby commanded as he set the cooler he was carrying on top of the counter.

Jack followed in behind him and smiled at Dean with a small wave.

Dean stopped kissing you and raised his hands as he stepped away from you. He was grinning wildly and biting his lip, his eyes roaming your body like they always did before they held your gaze.

You so easily fell back into the way things were before with him and this was the good part. The part where you could speak novels with a wink of an eye. It was like a language only the two of you could speak and he was saying 'I still love you, so damn much'.

Your father cleared his throat and you rolled your eyes, "Dad, I thought you said you were taking Jack fishing? Shouldn't that take a couple more hours?"

"Not a chance, pumpkin." Bobby side-eyed Dean, "Besides, kid, already caught a week's worth. He's a natural." He boasted, coming around to Jack much faster than you expected him to.

"I'm a natural," Jack repeated and beamed with a little tilt of his head. He bounced on his heels, twice, he was so excited.

You groaned and shook your head, "I'm surrounded by dorks."

"What's a dork?" Jack asked and furrowed his brow.

Dean answered, "A little brother."

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

Forever SPN: @hobby27​

Tell Me a Story Bingo: @princessvader15

[here-to-read-and-write]

Umg umg umg, i hope you would like this request 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I have two to shared but you could choose one 🥺 (bruhhhh, i hope my English is good enough to be understood)

1. (NSFW) Reader had some injured in the past about their jaw that they can't open their mouth widely (just about 2.5 to 3cm). When they try to eat a quite big cumcuber, they have to bite slowly each pieces and tell others that "I hate this, can't eat something big". When 141 members see it, they immediately have a thought "So how could they take my cock?" even they don't even mean that. What do you think they (141) would react about their thought? I guess Ghost will be really annoyed by his thought 🤣 (anyway i do have that problem so whenever i want to eat a spoon of something, i have to adjust it to fit my mouth @@ that's so pissed off)

2. (SFW) For some reasons reader have to pretend that they betray 141. Maybe they have to make the enemies believe that they're in the enemies' side (reader is a spy, perhap), or you just can choose to not mention it. But reader can't tell 141 to keep their (141) safety. I wish i could know their reaction about reader's betrayal and what if reader's eyes redden or even cry while they try to keep straight face during the betrayal scene 🥺

It’s 1:02 a.m. here, and I was playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3. I don’t know what to say, but I am ugly crying. I won’t spoil it for those who haven’t played yet, but my heart got ripped out of my chest. Writing is my only coping mechanism, so I decided to grab my laptop and write for them, for myself, and for those who played it and felt the same way as I did or didn’t.

Well, I well use this opportunity to make amends since I have abandoned writing and we will start with little cuty user, and her requests.

Characters mentioned : John Price - Johnny "Soap" MacTavish - Kyle "Gaz" Garrick - König - Simon "Ghost" Riley - Alejandro Vargas - Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra.

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I hope you liked it!

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1.

Tired and hungry were the worst combination at this moment, now that you were finally about to start writing tha damn report. Why did you have to personally write a report?

The report has to be on captain Price's desk today before noon, but as your pen meet the paper, your stomach grumbled louder than a shot gun.

Sighing you stood up, abondonning the idea of ever finishing this report in time. You can't leave your poor stomach empty for the sake of something as foolish as a report, plus you knew captain Price won't scold you much, as long as the report gets to his office before he leaves to his well deserved vacation. You can't wait to eat a fresh meal for yourself and maybe, key word: maybe, leave some for others.

Lost in thoughts you haven't even noticed that you had reach the kitchen. Now here comes the second challenge, actually cooking.

Looking at the small counter, you had one thought, what can you eat? Let's make it more understadable, what can you eat which is easy to cook and you won't have problem chewing? Reminder, you can't open your jaw more than 3 cm.

Well, that will depends, you thought as you opened the fridge to be meet with one lonely tomato, one cucumber, a piece of cheese that no one wanted to eat and nothing more.

Oh, we left to the mission before we could shop!

Groaning in disappointment, you pulled out the three of out. With the issues with your jaw, you can choose either the tomato, the cheese, the cucumber (but it has to be cut into small pieces, and that's too much work!) or you can combine them all to create a tomato-cucumber-cheese salad (You had to fill the void in your stomach somehow and tomato, cucumber or cheese alone won't do it). Unfortunately, as you were about to grabbed the tomato, you noticed two things, it was too soft, mushy, and smelly.

You grimaced, examinating the three items, and the only surviver was cucumber, with the cheese having mold all over it. So, cucumber alone it is, sighing you turned to grab a knife, to at least cut it into smaller pieces, but it seems you wasted all your luck just now.

You facepalmed at the unwashed stack of dishes. You haven't noticed them, with your back facing where they were buried in the sink. They must have been left here when Laswell called for an urgent mission, since no one uses this kitchen except the 1-4-1, you and occasionally, the Mexican boy (Alejandro) and his flowery companion (Rudy) when they visit.

Speaking of the devil, you peered over your shoulder to see the squad chatting as they strolled towards the grand table, between the door and the counter. Their shoulders weren't tensed as it was a few hours ago. They were actually making jokes minus Ghost obviously, but even he have the green aura around him.

Seeing as they were safe to approach, you coughed catching their attention immediately, but before anyone could greet you with a teasing nicknames, you pointed out at the sink.

"I cleaned, the week before, your turn," you pointed at Soap, who's shoulder sank as he teared up, but you knew it was all an act to wiggle his way out, but not this time.

Once he noticed that it wasn't working, he give in and walked towards you, picking on your cheeks before wearing the gloves. Pink gloves, that you purposely brought just to have a good laugh at Ghost, a scary man in hello kitty's gloves. It was the finiest memory you cherished among others.

"Colonel Vargas, Sergeant Major Para," you nodded at the two before greeting the others.

"I asked you too many times to just call me Alejandro, we aren't strangers after all," he grinned as you just nodded, giving up on arguming.

Taking the empty seat between Ghost and Price, you listened to their madone talks as you tried to take on the big boy, cucumber.

Why were cucumbers so big? You though dreadly as you tried to fit it in your mouth, but of course the thing was too big.

"I hate how I can't fit anything big in my mouth," you mumbled but of course, it has to be silence the moment you decided to complain.

You pushed your lips forcefully apart, just enough to not hurt yourself but enough to fit the head of the cucumber in your mouth because there is no way you were going to wait until Soap cleans the dishes, plus you had to go over them. You can trust them with your soul but never in cleaning.

Everyone snapped their head towards you, eyes widen. Their watched how your eyes narrawed as you biten small pieces of the cucumber. They all had one thought in minds, how will their cocks fit in your mouths when you can't fit a cucumber, a mini size.

Price was the first to lean back, and tried to come with a way to train your jaw. He was a patient man, he can start small, few licks here and there. You can started by fitting the head, then slowly you will be able to fit it all in, just right. He licked his lower lip just at the thought of how you, his fierce soldier, will look cute down on your knees just for him.

Gaz and Soap on the other hands had the same though, how will it fit in your mouth, but more of concerned about your safety and comfort, not like Price will force anything upon you but the old man knew better than anyone that you won't resisting once he has his hands on you. They don't mind much, even though they fantasised many time about you gagging around it as you tried to do your best to please them.

For the Mexican boys, same question, and as much they didn't want to have such lewd thoughts of someone they respected. Like the others they didn't mean it. It was out of their controle. The thought was so pleasant, that they have to see it in real life—I mean, They had to test the theory in real life, maybe you can defy your believe, they can help prove yourself wrong and that you take more than just one cock—Uhh, what they mean, darling, is that you shouldn't push yourself too much, you are a valuable memember of 1-4-1 and no one wants you hurt.

König, he was panicked in Germany, Wie werden sie meine glied nehmen können? (How will they be able to take my cock? I don't know the word for cock in germany so don't come at me, please, I just started learning the language!). When I say he was panicking, I mean sweating as he thought of all possibilities that may accure if one day, he couldn't control himself and accidently, slide it on your mouth. He was scared of breaking your poor jaw, he didn't want you to hate him, not when he loved admired you so much.

Ghost was the contrary of them all, he was annoyed, grumbling under his breath like grounded child. How dare you you? How dare not be able to take it? All along the mission, he was holding on, barely, but still holding on his hands to his side and cock in its place just to be able to get you under him once you were all back. He had planned it all. Today, after this little warm hearting meeting with everyone he will slide away and get into your office, knowing you were busy writing your report, and seduce you or whatever, just to get you on your knees, but now you had to tell him you can't take him???? Who are you to decide that?

In conclusion, everyone was in their clouds, imagining and thinking whatever they wanted to do to you while you sobbed in your corner over the still existing void in your stomach.

I am still hungry, you sighed, as you finished your cucumber.

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[mamabearneeds-her-dietcoke]

Hiiii! I just discover you, and I love your Daryl fic!

Can I request angst fic of Daryl x reader, that the reader would take a bullet to protect him during an attack on Alexandria? Thx, love you! ♥️♥️♥️

of course you can! thank you so much for the request, it makes me so happy you enjoyed my other fic, i love you too!

lets get started😈

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It was a normal day in Alexandria, people were going about their business, kids were playing in their yards and such. Carl was over with Judith, just talking to you as you prepped some meat Daryl brought home on s hunt.

"Does Daryl just leave his things wherever?" Carl asks holding the hunting knife. "Yeah. He's gotten better at it but it's Daryl." You smile. You've lived with Daryl since your group first arrived. You've always had feelings towards him and you'd take a bullet for him.

"What's me?" Daryl walks in the door. "Leaving your stuff everywhere." You look to him. "Oh well." He sits next to Carl, watching you. Conversation went on as normal when there were sudden screams and yells. This caught all of your attention and you immediately grabbed the gun and knife on top of your fridge. Daryl held his crossbow and the two of you looked out the door to see people climbing the wall with knives and guns, breaking into people's houses.

"Shit. Carl take Judith and hide in the back of the closet in my room. Daryl windows." He nods and immediately closes blinds as you close the door and lock it. You follow Carl upstairs making sure Daryl was close by.

Your closer was fairly big so you were all able to fit easily. Carl had his gun cocked and was making sure Judith was well hidden, if someone opened the closet door, you wouldn't see her. You could hear the screams of others. "Alright I'm goin out there." Daryl opens the closet door. "Daryl! Carl stay here." You follow him out, but both of you aren't able to make it out of the room before you hear the window downstairs break.

Daryl holds his hand to his lips signaling to be quiet. from what it sounds there are two people talking. one of them tells the other to look upstairs while they search downstairs. Daryl signals for you to move behind the door as he stands by out of sight, so when someone walks in the both of you could attack.

you hear the footsteps of the stairs searching other rooms. your room was the last on the hall so anxiety built further up as they got closer. A girl walks in and Daryl moves forward his crossbow held up ready to shoot. You cock your gun, a slight movement of your finger and she'd be dead. "Who are ya? Why are ya here?" Daryl asks the question, threatening to shoot when not answered. "Please. I'm being forced to be here. You can tie me up and put me in that closet but please, don't let the man downstairs hurt me." She's crying at this point. Part of you wanted to believe her, but the apocalypse you knew better.

"Tie her up. He has a gun he'll keep 'er in check." Daryl lowers his crossbow. "I'll deal with him." Your shocked at his response as he walks downstairs. "Im just gonna use a peice of cloth, the boy in there has a gun, so dont fuck up." you put her in the closet, giving Carl a brief explanation of what's happening.

You follow downstairs and see the body on the floor. Must've been the guy she was talking about. You run outside, shooting who you can. Your eyes land on Daryl, his crossbow was flung off on the ground and he was busy fighting with a guy. There was another man on the ground behind Daryl.

This must've been another person who attacked Daryl, but Daryl didn't notice the guy fumbling with a gun. Your heart sunk, your legs moving before you could even think. "Daryl!" You yell out as soon as Daryl gets his guy to the ground. you move in front of him as a gun shot sounds.

Your hand flys to your abdomen as you stumble back, Daryl turning around immediately. "y/n!" You feel him hold you, one hand checking where your wound is, the other trying to keep you up. The wound was bleeding profusely, and Daryl's mind was racing. Tears beaded his eyes. "Damn you. You stupid son of a bitch." He picks you up and rushes to the infirmary, hoping someone, anyone was there.

The last thing you remember is Daryl setting you on a bed. It was then you blacked out.

"He hasn't left her side since. I mean i had to force him just to go take a shower and try to calm his nerves." You hear Carol's voice. "He's out on a hunt right? It might help him calm his mind." That was Michonne.

You attempt to sit up, catching the attention of the two. "Oh my god." Carol rushes to your side, helping you. "What happened?" Your memory was a bit foggy. "Daryl says you took a bullet for him." Michonne says. You think for a moment. "I did. there was a guy behind him with a gun. Daryl could've died." You say.

"Y/n, You could have died. There was so much blood I'm surprised you're here talking to us." Carol smiles. "Y'know he never left you. He sat in here day and night. He'd talk to you, tell you stories. I've never seen him act like that with someone before." Michonne sighs.

"How long have a been out?" You ask, only thinking a couple days. "Two weeks. You lost a lot of blood." Carol says.

Suddenly the door opens. Your heart jumps at the sight of the man who turne the corner. "Hey." He freezes, the sound of your voice something he's missed for so long. "You're awake." He says. "Yeah." He quickly moves towards you, wrapping you in a hug, careful of your injury. "Wait what happened to the girl in the closet?" You ask once he pulls away.

"Her name is Maria, and she's still learning to be trusted but she helps around." He says. He steps back as you successfully attempt to stand up. You then pull him in to another hug, your arms around his neck, his around your waist. You move your hands to his face, bringing yours to his, connecting your lips.

You pull away, noticing a smile on his face. "Waited forever for that. Now get back 'n bed." You smile as he helps you sit back. "I owe Carl a candy bar." Michonne says. "What!" You laugh. "He made a bet." Michonne smiles.

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what up 😛

hope you enjoyed!!

sorry this took me a min to get out😣

don't be afraid to send in requests ‼️‼️

peace out luvas 🤸🤸

[lenafromthenordiccoven]

Cool Down Time - Bob Floyd x afab!reader

(moodboard by me, Lewis Pullman pic by retosterchi, found by @up-thereinthesky, rest unsplash.com)

Title: Cool Down Time

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

Pairing: Bob Floyd x afab!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: When the first actual heatwave of the year hits, you suggest a little bit of an unconventional method to cool down with your favourite aviator.

Warnings: temp play, body worship (is that warning? Idk), oral (m!receiving), light dom/sub undertones (with Bob not being the dominant one), swearing, I just want to fluster one (1) man, okay?, not proofread, we die like rebels

Wordcount: 2346

Read on ao3

A/N: My city’s got the first heatwave of the year and I’m miserable. So, naturally, had to come up with a way to distract myself. If not entirely cool down – reasons why I kept this shorter than I had originally planned. *ahem* Also, I apologise for the horrible title. I couldn’t come up with anything better xD (Also, also, I apparently like having characters beg. Oops.)

You flopped down on the couch with a groan while Bob closed the front door. You could hear him chuckle at the way you’d shed your jeans shorts and T-shirt in the hallway on the way to the living room.

“It’s too damn hot!” you grumbled into the pillow that was quickly warming to your body temperature in a failed attempt to defend your actions. Not that you really needed to. Bob was usually the last person you would have needed to explain any of your motivations to. It simply was too hot. San Diego got hit by the first heatwave of the year and you crumbled like a dried-up leaf under a magnifying glass.

“Well, you’re not gonna feel any better if you heat up that couch, darlin’,” Bob said from where he was basically towering above your head. When you shifted your head to peer up at him, your eyes followed a couple beads of sweat that trailed down the side of his neck and pooled in his jugular notch. You could feel your mind drifting to somewhere very different, but Bob’s voice pulled you back.

“Hm?” You raised an eyebrow at him, not having caught any of what he’d said. But given the way he looked at you (his head slightly cocked to the side which always reminded you of a puppy—and which you sometimes teased him for), it was clear that he’d asked you a question.

“I asked how much water you drank today.” He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer. Although you were sure, he already knew it. Not enough. You never drank enough. Well, water.

“Not enough. Probably,” you replied, grumbling again this time. Because you knew what would happen next.

Bob sighed and then motioned for you to get up. “Alright, up you go. Off to the kitchen. Both of us.”

You didn’t even try to hold back the whine as you pushed yourself up and climbed off the couch. You padded after him, noting how his backpack had left a big stain of sweat on his back. You were about to reach out your hand and trace the muscles of his back that were starting to peek through the fabric stuck to his skin. But then Bob stopped in front of the fridge-freezer-combo, opened the freezer compartment to get out some ice cubes and your heat-plagued brain spit out exactly one idea.

“Actually, babe…” You began as you stepped closer to Bob, starting to snuggle up to his back. “I think, I just had an idea how we could maybe cool down a little.”

He turned around to face you, ice cube tray in hand. You reached past him to close the fridge door and then nodded towards the ice cubes. And you could have sworn his skin flushed a darker shade of pink underneath the light sunburn. “You’re not suggesting …?” He nodded towards the ice cubes and quirked an eyebrow.

“I am suggesting temp play, baby, yes.” Your lips stretched into a grin when he blinked rapidly and averted his eyes. Even after having been together for a couple years now, you still got a rise out of Bob getting shy when you suggested something new in the bedroom. Ironic, really. Considering he’d had more experience when you’d first started dating.

“I don’t really see how that could help us cool down exactly,” Bob mumbled. But you could see the mischief glinting in his eyes. After all, how could he say no to one of your suggestions if it meant, he got to worship you? If anybody would have asked Bob how deep his feelings for you ran, he would have had no qualms telling them that he would worship at the altar of you for the rest of his life. Especially if it meant he got to hear you utter his name over and over in that mixture of a scream and a sigh he always drew from you when you climaxed, and when you didn’t give a fuck about whether your neighbours heard you.

You raised an eyebrow in response to his mumbling—and the thousand-yard stare now on his face. Then you gently took the ice cube tray from his hand, before laying your now cold fingers against his cheek. He jerked in response, blinking rapidly. “Where’d you go just now, handsome?” you asked with a seemingly innocent smile. You had an inkling where his mind had wandered off to. The same path yours had when he’d first taken the ice cubes out. It made your smile widen into a grin as his gaze drifted down to your lips for a second.

He cleared his throat, then stretched out his hand for the ice cube tray. “You know, where. Let me just get something to put these ice cubes in, so they don’t go meltin’ on us before we’re done, alright?”

--

The ice cubes clinked against the glass as you fished one out, the water dripping from your fingers landed on Bob’s now naked chest and he jumped at the sensation at first. But then his body relaxed under you and his gaze locked onto yours.

“You okay?” you asked with smile tugging on your lips, anticipation making your nerves sing before either of you had even gotten very far.

Bob nodded, laid out on his back on the bed, his boxers the last remaining item of clothing on his body. “Just cold at first.”

“Shocker. This is basically ice water by now.” You leaned down until your face hovered maybe an inch above him. “Just don’t buck me off, cowboy.”

“Not makin’ any promises.”

When you gently let the first ice cube rest in his jugular notch, he jolted underneath you again, lips parted in a surprised gasp that faded into a sigh as you then let the ice cube wander up his throat just underneath his jaw. You ground your hips slightly downwards and then caught the resulting groan tumbling from his lips with your own. His hands ghosted over your panty-clad ass and up your sides where one of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer against him.

You chuckled. “You’re gonna have to let me go if you want me to continue.”

His arm tightened around you in response as he mumbled against your lips: “Not that I’m not looking forward to where this is gonna go, but I just really like havin’ you on top of me like this, darlin’.”

You could feel heat creep up into your cheeks as his words brought up memories of countless times of when you’d had him underneath you like this, with you setting the pace for once as you rode him. “Stop trying to distract me.” You sat up as he loosened his arm around your waist and let his hands wander back to your ass. Just as he squeezed your cheeks, you slapped his chest lightly.

“Oh, am I?” His lips twisted into smug version of the lopsided, lovesick smile you usually got from him. “Sweetheart, I think, you should get another ice cube. This one’s almost gone.” You could see the mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“Shut up, Lieutenant, and let me do this at my pace.” To ward off any attempts at a reply, you picked up the ice cube – Bob wasn’t wrong about it having almost melted away completely against his heated skin – and pushed it past his lips into his mouth. His lips closed around your fingers, he hummed as he swirled his tongue around your fingertips and then lightly bit down on them.

You swallowed hard at the sensation while your brain and heart took off at the speed of lightning and you found yourself grinding your increasingly wetter core against his clothed cock. “You gonna be a good boy and behave?” you asked before you removed your fingers from his mouth, lifted yourself up onto your knees and leaned over to fish another ice cube out of the glass.

“Yes, ma’am,” was his only response besides another hiss as you let the new ice cube circle his right nipple. Though he did whine in protest when you moved off of him to kneel beside his body on the bed. Then, ignoring the ache burning low in your lower belly at his sounds, you took the ice cube between your lips and began tracing abstract patterns onto his upper body. All the while you tried to keep eye contact, which he broke the first time you inched close to the hem of his boxers and his abs tensed underneath your touch.

Your lips twitched into a smile as he kept his eyes closed and he tried to keep his breathing under control. You slowly let one of your fingers wander along the hem of his boxers, before you tugged on them and Bob dutifully lifted his hips, so you could get them off. He’s half-hard cock slapped against his abdomen, and you watched his brows pinch as the tip landed in a drop of ice water your ice cube had left.

“Sweetheart, please.” There was no need for him to say more. You knew, he needed you to touch him. But you wanted to draw out the build-up a little more. Call it some good-natured revenge for all the times he’d riled you up and had you panting with just fleeting touches of his fingers and lips.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you, baby. Just be a good boy and keep your eyes on me, okay?”

You blinked up at him innocently, kneeling between his legs, the sight had him whining. One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek and you nuzzled into the touch, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“You’re always so good to me, Robby. Wanna do the same for you,” you whispered.

He nodded and his hand fell away from your face as you settled in between his thighs. The first gentle kiss you pressed to the inside of his thigh drew a gasp from him. When you took the ice cube from where it had been sitting in his navel and lightly ran it over the junction of his leg and torso before briefly ghosting it over his balls, you got another jolt and a louder “Fuck!” as a reward. The usually lighter blue of his eyes had turned to something darker as his lust-blown eyes stayed locked onto you as if he’d locked onto a target in the sky. Finally, you put the remainder of the ice into your mouth, let it melt on your tongue and cool it down.

One of your hands came up to grip the base of his now definitely hard cock as you licked his tip, humming at the first beads of precum you could taste. “You always taste so good, baby,” you purred.

“Could say the same thing about you. Please, sweetheart. Need your mouth on me. Please, pl—” His words got caught off by a lightly frustrated groan when you tugged on his cock but kissed his stomach instead of wrapping your lips around him.

You chuckled, then hummed while you licked the underside of his shaft from the base to the tip where you pressed another faux-innocent kiss to his cock. When you did finally wrap your lips around him and began to bob your head up and down, Bob’s face twisted in pleasure as he struggled to keep his eyes open and on you.

“Fuck. Thank you, darlin’. You’re so good to me.” You clenched your thighs together at the praise, unable to deny the effect his reactions had on your own arousal.

While you kept bobbing your head, trying to alternate between sucking him off, stroking him and licking, it didn’t take long for Bob to turn into a writhing begging mess underneath you. The ice cubes left in the glass were forgotten as you made it your mission to get him to cum in your mouth. One of his hands tangled in your hair as his hips buck upwards at an uncontrolled rhythm.

“Shit, Y/N. ‘m close, so close. Don’t stop.”

And he kept his word. A couple more bobs and a fleeting touch against his balls had him shooting off into your mouth as your name repeatedly tumbled over his lips. You swallowed everything, helped him ride out his orgasm.

His chest was heaving with every breath as he came down and relaxed underneath your touch again. You kept the kisses to his body and the touches of your fingertips light, gentle so as not to overwhelm him. His hand that was still tangled in your hair tugged lightly, signalling for you to crawl back up his body.

He pulled you down onto him and kissed you, humming contentedly as he tasted himself on your tongue. “Thank you, darlin’. That was … really fuckin’ good.” His voice was hoarse and somewhere in the back of your mind you hoped the neighbours hadn’t come home from their vacation yet. You didn’t exactly want to deal with a knock on your door right now.

You quickly left another peck against his lips, your hand resting over his heart absentmindedly tracing shapes onto his skin. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.” You smiled down at him and his lips twisted into that smug smirk again.

One of his hands came to rest on your hip while the other cradled your head—giving you no other warning when he suddenly flipped you over onto your back, so he could hover over your body. “I think, we still have some ice left in that glass of ours. Let me show you exactly how much I appreciate how well you take care of me, darlin’.”

You giggled as he stooped down to steal another kiss before fishing for an ice cube. While your activities didn’t exactly cool you down, they at least took your mind off the scorching temperatures outside for a little while. And who’s against having a little fun, really?

[lokigonnakmsforbucky]

Your first Demon

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader (season 3)

Warning: Violence, some torture, a bitchy demon, a good ending I promise

Word count: 1.1k

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Fighting a demon was never an easy challenge. Not even for a hunter like myself. Yes, traps and certain weapons can give you the upper hand. But, that doesn't mean a certain victory will happen. That problem was the current one that I was facing at that moment.

I've been traveling across the country ever since I graduated high school; after my parents were killed by vampires. For years. I traveled, to different cities, small towns, and even the most picture-perfect places to rid the violent ghosts, vampires, or werewolves. But, I never ever went face to face with a demon...until today.

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Wichita, Kansas

I arrived a few days ago to investigate a weird disturbance in this town. Five people went missing in a week, livestock has been slain, and there has been strange weather as of late. The weather has been dark and gloomy everywhere it seemed, just not normal.

Which is why I am now in a random house in the middle of the woods, sneaking around trying to find some answers.

None of the normal monsters made any sense. Vampires would leave bodies with no blood, and Werewolves would leave everything but a heart, and a ghost as well. A ghost. It's kind of self-explanatory.

I slowly opened the front door, gun in hand. Walked into the kitchen, It appeared to be clean. I looked under the table, and in the fridge, but nothing. I wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong until I smelled something... smelled like something was rotten. I covered my nose and walked towards the window to see a small dark yellow pile of dust.

I take my hand off my mouth and touch the dust and bring it back to my nose, "Whoa... yeah that's sulfur." I quickly wiped it on my pants.

"Okay, what am I fighting against? Missing people, slain livestock, and now sulfur?"

"Demon's sweetheart" I turned around to see one of the missing women behind me. I raise my gun at her just to see the woman smile sightly and her eyes turn pitch black, something I have never seen before.

She walked towards me, and I immediately start shooting at her chest. One bullet, after another until my gun needs to reload. I could see the bullet holes in her chest and she keeps walking towards me, "Honey, bullets won't do anything to me." She grabs my gun and throws it to the ground and slams me to the wall.

"Now, what is a hunter like you poking around?" Her grip on my neck tightens, "You always ruin the fun. Oh, well. I could use your blood to call the big man anyways." The demon pulls a knife out of its pocket and brings it over to my wrist, cutting it slightly. I let out a scream of pain. The demon squeezes my wrist, and I failed to realize that underneath is a small bowl with tiny drops of my blood.

"Oh, your screaming because of a little cut? Just wait till I'm done with you. You will be wanting a quick death so bad." Hearing those words, I know that I was not ready for this. Demons? I thought they never existed. Now, I'm gonna die by one. I'm gonna die In this small house in the woods in Kansas by a demon from hell.

Being so preoccupied with the demon, I never noticed that we were no longer alone in this house. Someone or something else was here.

I hear a shotgun being cocked back, "Hey, little bitch from hell." The demon turns to its side, and my eyes follow to see the green-eyed hunter named Dean Winchester at the door, "Missed me?"

Dean let the shotgun go off and the demon flew back into the kitchen cabinets, I hit the ground with a thud. Dean ran towards me grabbing my shoulder and pulling me towards him, "Hurry, get up!" I ran past him into what appeared to be the living room to see Sam finishing the devil's trap on the floor. Sam motioned for me to get behind him, finishing the trap and throwing the rug over top of it.

Moments later Dean rushed in with a slash on his face, a very small but noticeable mark. He got beside me and Sam, and both had their guns raised waiting for the demon to walk in.

The demon slowly walked in, "Hey boys. Seemed like you missed me a lot if you came hunting for me."

"Oh, yeah. Missed you a lot" Sam said sarcastically, "Kind of hard to ignore the reports of dead livestock and missing people. Which, your occupying one of the missing right now." The demon laughed at Sam's words.

"You mean four missing people, dead livestock, and one dead victim." The demon motioned towards their body, the holes in their shirt from the bullets I let out earlier. "Miss hot shot there took care of it for me." It smiled and walked right on the rug that was over the top of the devil's trap and stopped. Like it couldn't move no matter how hard the struggle.

"The good old devil's trap. I should have known." The demon looked at us while Sam grabbed his book flipped a few pages and started speaking, " Exorcizamus te, Omnis immundus spiritus, Omnis satanica potestas." The demon screamed hearing those words, and immediately we saw all the dark smoke leave the dead woman's body.

The demon was gone.

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"How are you feeling?" Dean asked while leaning on my car while I packed my bag back in my vehicle.

"I'm alive, thanks to you... again." I said smiling at him, He smiled and laughed slightly. "Yeah. First, it was the Wendigo in Blackwater Bridge? Or was it Blackwater Ridge? Anyway, I think you and I may be destined for each other then."

I laugh at his words, he may not be so wrong about that. Him saving me not once, but twice? That's not a coincidence. Not that I have anything to complain about, Dean is a good guy. He is immature most of the time, but he is a good guy nonetheless.

I can't help but think about how good-looking the green-eyed hunter is, I move closer to him. Centimeters away from his face, almost close enough that our noses could touch.

"Maybe we are Winchester. I'm not complaining." I leaned in all the way. Our lips locked, and for a moment I thought maybe he didn't want this but His hand found the side of my face and told me otherwise as we deepened the kiss.

I pulled away and looked at Dean, He had a grin on his face. "I'm definitely not complaining sweetheart." I smiled and grabbed a piece of paper out of my vehicle and jotted down my number. and slipped it into Dean's pocket, and climbed into my car.

"You better call me Dean Winchester." I started my car and he backed away from it.

"Count on it. Maybe me saving you a third time is the charm."

"It might be you that needs saving next time Winchester"