#One day I will get the Sammy plush

[spnbrainrotawoooga]

Amazon says Sastiel rights.

[rebelfell]

rub one out┃(for your viewing pleasure-verse)

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

a cheeky (pun intended) bit of filth based on part of my blurb series. I was trying to keep the snippets short, but this just kinda poured out of me over the past couple days.

cw: sex work, simulated adultery, oral (fem receiving)

18+, MDNI┃2.8k

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You couldn’t escape the nagging thought as you stepped outside, tightening the belt on your fluffy white bathrobe, tugging at the terrycloth tail and twisting it in your fingers. Your eyes flitted to each member of your crew, all of them in position waiting to get this show on the road.

Why were you so nervous? You’d certainly done this enough times before not to get stage fright. So why did your stomach feel more tangled than the box of electrical cords in Lenny’s truck?

Part of you almost wished it would rain, or the ground would open up and swallow you whole so you didn’t have to go through with this. But the concrete remained solid under your feet, and the sky overhead showed no signs of altering its radiant blue color. Perfect.

It’s gonna be fine, you thought in an attempt to soothe yourself. It’s all gonna be fine.

And you almost believed it would be.

Sammy, who was barely a step up from an intern, had swiftly been promoted once the plan for you to replace your no-show leading lady was set in motion. You weren’t worried about her, though—she was smart and a quick study; she knew all the shots you needed, and she had a good eye.

If you couldn’t be behind the camera yourself, she was pretty much the only one you trusted.

Well…maybe not the only one.

Eddie’s eyes met yours as soon as you stepped out of the trailer. The sunlight hit his deep brown irises, making them glow the color of rich honey. But behind the liquid gold, you could see his own nerves and it made your stomach flip, wondering what he could possibly be nervous about.

“Hey,” he said quietly as he came up next to you. “You good?”

For a moment, you considered lying. Flashing him a thumbs up or shooting him finger guns like one of those tools you used to do this with. But you knew better by now when it came to Eddie.

“Nope,” you chuckled. “I’m kinda shitting myself.”

“Well, that’s just what the guy about to fuck you wants to hear,” he chuckled back.

A real smile breaks through your tense, fake one and a genuine laugh bubbles up out of your chest. Eddie’s eyes shine when he hears it and the sight makes your chest feel all warm inside.

“No, you’re right,” you said. “I’m okay, I just…don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

His plush pink lips pressed into a straight line, his tongue poking out as he licked them. He reached out a reassuring hand and placed it on your shoulder, rubbing it through your robe.

“You’re gonna be great,” he assured, sounding a lot more certain than you felt.

Easy for him to say. He’s a fucking natural.

Even on your best day doing this, you never felt like you were great at it—competent, sure. Maybe even above average. But not great. Not at all the way you felt since getting behind the camera.

You nodded tightly, your hesitation still written all over your face. His eyes scanned over you and he swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. He then leaned in and placed his lips beside your ear.

“You look…really beautiful,” he said.

His warm breath rushed across your neck, the heat coming off his skin making your ears buzz. An explosion of fluttering began in your stomach, like there were butterfly cocoons in your cereal that morning and now they were all hatching.

“We should get moving,” you said, pulling back. “Burning daylight.”

Eddie straightened. He nodded and you nodded back, sliding past him to do final checks before you started rolling. Telling yourself he must have pumped or popped a Viagra to explain away that bulge in his pants that definitely wasn’t there before he came over to talk to you.

The nerves didn’t disappear once you started working, but your body and brain did snap into a kind of performance mode you remembered well.

You started with some still photography for the VHS box art—shots of you in progressing states of undress, your robe dropping off your shoulder, Eddie pulling it open to reveal your body, his hand running up your thigh in a slow caress.

He let it trail all the way up your stomach and chest until he curled his finger under your chin and tipped your face toward his, letting his lips hover just inches away from yours. Your eyes fluttered closed and your heart raced, thinking he might close the gap and actually kiss you—

But after the shutter snapped, he simply let his hand drop and backed away. 

The loss of his body heat sent a chill down your spine and you shivered despite the blazing sun overhead. Eddie’s eyes caught yours, the nearly imperceptible lift of his brow asking, ‘you okay?’ You nodded and another shiver skittered across your skin as you pulled your robe back up.

For the next shot, you climbed up on the massage table and he got into position behind you. His body pressed yours down, your back arching under him as he dipped his head low to take the lobe of your ear between his teeth, palming your exposed breast with his large, strong hand. 

You let your mouth hang open, not even needing to fake the look of desperation on your face. And let yourself believe Eddie’s excitement you could feel digging into the fat of your ass was real too. The little grunts and whines he let out when you wriggled against him certainly didn’t sound fake.

After the photos, there was nothing left to do but move on to the main event. 

You and Eddie reset—him standing in frame, you just outside of it. Sammy panned the camera around, establishing the setting, zooming in on the fountain feature in the pool and then coming around to film Eddie as he snapped a fresh towel and laid it out on the massage table.

From your spot off-camera, it’s impossible not to be mesmerized by the sight. Biceps rippling, tendons in his arms flexing as he smoothed the towel flat. His tattoos stood out even more than normal with him in white slacks and a white polo meant to give the impression of him being an employee of the resort. And the little twist your hair and make-up girl Jael did is something new that only further accentuates the thick column of his neck and his angular jaw.

He’d left off his rings and bracelets, as was typical when he was filming, and you couldn’t help but think about that day in the editing suite. When he’d touched your knee, and you felt the silver ridges press into your flesh. It had jarred you somewhat, how right it felt to have his hand there and how you’d nearly leaned in to meet his lips when you saw his face getting closer.

You hadn’t kissed him that day—promptly removing yourself from temptation in an attempt to salvage some shred of your professionalism. And you (mostly) felt good about that decision. It would have been reckless and destructive and your entire working relationship might have been compromised. You’d made the right call that day, you were sure of it. Mostly…

But today was different. Today, it wasn’t going to derail your career. If anything, your career was mandating you give in to those urges that had plagued you so relentlessly. And that was when it hit you all at once—the realization about as subtle as a train crashing through a wall.

You were going to fuck Eddie.

You’re going to feel firsthand what it’s like to have his face and cock buried between your legs; what it’s like to suck on his fingers and soak them with your spit before he presses them to your clit; what he sounds like when he comes all over your stomach or tits (you can’t quite recall what the script specifies, you just know it’s meant to be outside so he can dotingly clean you up after). 

The barrage of thoughts that storm through your mind are so consuming, you nearly miss your cue to enter the scene. But once you do, you’re rather grateful for the distraction of the set-up dialogue:

“It’ll just be me, today. My husband has a meeting he couldn’t get out of.”

“No, no, it’s not his fault. I got it as a surprise for our anniversary—I should have known better than to book it without checking his schedule.”

“I’m afraid I never know how much to take off for a massage…what do you suggest?”

Eddie answered your last question with a smooth, “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” and a smile so warm it would melt the ice caps.

Giving him a smile of your own, you slowly pulled at the tie of your robe. It fell to the ground in a heap at your feet and Eddie’s dark eyes roved over you hungrily. Now revealed to be completely naked, you feigned some degree of shyness: ducking your head low, looking up at him from underneath your lashes, brushing your hand over your stomach as though to hide it while really drawing his eyes to its plush softness.

“Is this alright?” you asked him with a coy smirk. Eddie grinned, still drinking you in.

“Absolutely,” he breathed. And the raptness in his eyes almost had you believing him.

You took your time getting up on the table, propping yourself up on all fours, letting him (and the camera) take a good, long look at the fullness of your hips before you settled in place. Arms at your side, you took a deep breath as you laid flat on your stomach, relieved there wouldn’t be much dialogue needed for this next part.

Through the little donut headrest at the end of the table, you saw Sammy’s feet as she moved in close—filming tight on Eddie’s hands while he pumped massage oil onto them and warmed it by spreading it between his palms.

Your chest tightened, nerves coiling in your stomach as you anticipated his touch, forcing your body to keep still so you didn’t pull focus.

He smoothed some oil over your skin, starting at the ankles and thoroughly coating your calves. The smell of clary sage filled the air, earthy and warm. And underneath it, a clean and woodsy scent you recognized as Eddie’s soap wafted up to your nose when he leaned in closer.

His fingertips began to knead your muscles, slipping and sliding easily over your skin that was slick with the oil. He made tiny circles with his thumbs, alternating back and forth as they moved in a steady pattern up your calf.

Oh, that’s right…

In all the hubbub, you’d forgotten the whole concept for this shoot was borne on the fact that Eddie went to massage school for real. He’d told you before, after he left his hometown (shit, what was it again? Hawk-something…) that he started collecting different jobs like merit badges.

Just bounced from thing to thing, trying his hand (sometimes both) at whatever life presented. And that included porn. He’d said he only auditioned for that first film he did because someone he’d slept with a handful of times knew a casting director and suggested he’d be good at it.

“He certainly had the dick for it” were her exact words, if you recalled. Strange to think in a way, you might owe that girl your career.

Through the pleasurable haze your mind dipped into having Eddie’s capable hands erasing every ounce of stress you carried in your muscles, you realized he was moving the scene right along while you just lay there humming and moaning with relief at his practiced touch.

He’d lowered his voice to that deep, rumbly register he always used when he was building towards the next phase. His DM voice, as he so affectionately dubbed it. Rough and gravely, yet even and tempered, guiding both you and the audience along on the journey of this fuck.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying…but your husband’s a jackass for missings out on this.”

Your heartbeat picked up in your chest as he moved to your thighs. His fingertips dug into your flesh, kneading it like dough, letting his thumbs swerve dangerously close to your center.

“You deserve someone who puts you first…who knows what he has and worships you…”

One of his thumbs swiped briefly over your puffy lips, and you knew he felt how wet you were.

“You know, I’d never let you out of my sight if you were mine…”

His words dripped slowly and intentionally past his lips, his hands creeping higher and higher up your legs. At last, they slid over the globes of your ass and he groaned as he squeezed one in each hand, spreading you apart to see your center, soaked with arousal that had been pooling there, truth be told, from the moment Eddie had told you how beautiful you looked. 

You heard Eddie’s next line in your head before he said it, “If you really want to relax, I can try a very special technique. I don’t do it for just anyone. It’s a little bit…unorthodox…”

And you were more than ready to take him up on his offer once he delivered the line. 

But Eddie went off script.

Instead of hearing words, you felt the wet heat of his tongue glide through your folds as he buried his face between your spread ass cheeks. Your head popped out of the headrest, letting out a breathy moan of surprise and delight.

The shock on your face was evident as Sammy pushed in close to capture your expression, but so was your pure and utter elation. You’d never felt anything so good in your life…

And it seemed you weren’t the only one.

Eddie groaned loudly as he lapped messily at your folds, his spit mixing with your slick that covered the bottom half of his face. And it was only after a few blissful seconds of eager licking that he even realize what he’d done.

“I’m—mmph—sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” He panted out in between sinful swirls of his tongue, his he words muffled by your ass cheeks because he couldn’t stand to pull away even a little, even long enough to speak. “I had to taste you…”

”It’s okay,” you answered, voice already wrecked beyond belief. “It’s okay, just keep going—”

The command is directed at him as much as it is the crew, who only panicked slightly. Eddie never did stuff like this and they just weren’t ready.

They got back on track quickly enough, Sammy signaling the boom mic to get as close as he can without dipping into frame in order to pick up every lurid slurp and suck of Eddie’s mouth.

After no more than a few minutes, the fluffy towel under you was bunched in your fists and your hips squirmed as Eddie continued to eat you out like a mad man. His tight grip on your ass cheeks held fast, spreading you wider still so his tongue could probe deeper. The sounds he pulled out of you didn’t even sound human to your ears, let alone recognizable as your own voice. 

But you didn’t care.

However you sounded, however you looked, it was superfluous to what Eddie was doing and the precipice he brought you to. Your orgasm hit harder than any drug, than any physical blow. It had you shaking uncontrollably, reaching back to grip the hair at the crown of his head as your hips pushed back to meet every thrust of his tongue while you rode out your exceptional high.

You felt its tingling sensation spread to every inconsequential inch of your body, like an ocean of fire that crashed over you in wave after wave of scorching pleasure. Drowning you in it.

When you finally found the strength in your limp limbs to roll over onto your back, Eddie’s eyes were waiting to meet yours. You could see on his face how sorry he was, how worried he was he’d fucked up. And you tried to communicate with him in that mind-melding, wordless sort of way you and he always did that it was fine—that people were going to love it.

Cocking your brow at him, dipping into a more salacious tone to really sell the transformation from demure housewife to lusty adulterer, you threw in a little adlib of your own.

“That’s some technique you’ve got there,” you teased him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “My husband’s certainly never done that before.”

Eddie’s sly smile returned, his lips curling as he reached out to grip your waist. He hauled you closer with one jerk, bringing you to the edge of the table so your hips were flush with his. The bulge in his white pants was harder than ever when it pressed against your cunt, and he grinned wickedly when he felt just how ready you were for more. He yanked up the shirttail of his polo and whipped it off his body, tossing it behind him where it landed half in the pool.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tutted softly, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Tysm for reading! 🛸 comments and reblogs keep your skin clear and your crops watered 🫶🏻

[pahtoosh]

baba face

[image ID: photos of sebastian stan, chris evans, and various stuffed animals photoshopped onto a yellow background. sebastian stan is holding a round wolf stuffed animal and looking into the distance. chris evans is hiding a smile with a hand over his mouth. the stuffed animals include four frowning stuffed animals and one smiling one. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~2400 words

warnings: reader takes a little tumble

a/n: this was inspired by @angelbaby-fics ! Chloe, thank you for showing me your turtle and inspiring this whole piece! (side note: if anyone would like to talk about their stuffies, I would LOVE to hear about them!!

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader

summary: sam gets a stuffed animal for reader that frowns like bucky! things get out of hand when the other avengers join in and buy reader way too many grumpy stuffies

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ

It all started when Sam came back from a mission in late June. The Avengers would sometimes bring back presents when they went overseas. They didn’t always have the time to stop by a gift shop but when they did, the gifts were always cherished and held a little closer when the Avenger eventually had to travel again. 

Two weeks before his mission, you had gotten very close with Sam. Your daddies asked him to watch over you one day and he gave you a whole adventure. He took you to a pottery painting studio, then the park, and ended the day with the best ice cream you’ve ever had. From then on, you were inseparable. 

During group meal times, you’d make jokes with him across the table. If you were allowed in the room for a meeting, you’d pass notes back and forth. Sam would also play with you during Tony’s summer parties; he was going to let you fly with redwing before Bucky marched outside and confined you to his hip for the rest of the night. You didn’t mind too much though, the sky probably wasn’t as comfortable as being held by Baba. 

Your attachment to Sam made this mission all the more difficult for everyone involved. You, because you missed your friend. Sam, because he missed your happy giggles and felt bad for leaving you right when he finally gained your trust. And your daddies because they had to witness you get sad every time something reminded you of Sam. 

Fortunately, the mission was going well and he was expected to return right on time. On his last day, Sam was looking both ways to cross the street when a stuffed animal in a display window caught his eye. He looked at his watch to see if he had enough time to make his flight, then quickly entered the store and bought the plushie because he knew you’d love it. 

On the plane, Sam sat with the plushie in his lap to keep it safe. It was still in the bag from the store, looking like an oddly shaped lump in a now wrinkly paper bag. When Sam returned to the tower, Steve was the first to greet him before you nudged your Dada out of the way to give Sam a bone-crushing hug. 

“I missed you, Sammy!”

“I missed you too, peanut.” He kneeled down and handed you the paper bag. “I gotcha something.”

You beamed at him. “Thank you! I love it!”

Sam laughed. “You haven’t even opened it yet!”

“I already know I’m gonna like it because it’s from you,” you said, matter of factly. “But okay.”

You opened the bag and gasped when you saw the plush. 

It was a soft turtle with a slightly slouched posture, but that wasn’t the part you were focused on. Your favorite part was the plushie’s grumpy expression. It looked just like Bucky. 

“HE HAS BABA FACE! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” You screamed your gratitude while running circles around the trio of Sam and your daddies. Sam and Steve were barely holding in their laughter, meanwhile Bucky stood confused, but happy that you were happy. Despite his super hearing, he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. Did you say baba face? Or maybe you said bubble face?  

Bucky figured that this wasn’t something he needed the answers to immediately, so he didn’t ask any questions and resolved to watching you tire yourself out. 

The grumpy turtle became your new shadow. Everywhere you went, so did the plush. You’d have it tucked under your arm while running through the compound. During mealtimes in your home, the turtle would get his own chair and toy food. Outside, you kept your turtle in a drawstring backpack with the head poking out so he could see the world too. When your daddies carried you around, you’d make a silly game out of making the turtle mess up your Dada’s hair or bite your Baba’s ears. 

Even before giving you the turtle, Sam loved to boast about how he was your favorite Avenger(you didn’t have a favorite, but you didn’t have the heart to correct him on that when he kept giving you all of his attention). When you all played hide and seek, he bragged for three days straight about how you chose him to be your partner. Your attachment to the turtle only heightened his pride. 

He always asked you where the turtle was, knowing it couldn’t be more than three feet away from you. Sam made a big fuss about the turtle having his own seat at the dinner table and fell victim to your strength and contagious giggles when you pushed him out of his seat to make room for your turtle. Sam learned his lesson that day and didn’t fight for the turtle to have his own chair in the debriefing room. However, he did bring in an extra stool for the plush. Sam even bought you the very drawstring backpack that allowed you to take your new friend on your outdoor adventures. In private, he’d ask you about how the turtle was settling into his new home and gave him the gentlest kiss when you said the turtle needed more lovin’. 

The others all thought your friendship with Sam was adorable, but there was one person who saw this as an opportunity for some friendly competition. Natasha knew that there was room in your heart for more than one avenger bestie, so she devised a plan to take her spot. She had two missions in August–the first: survey a crime group that’s suspected to have ties with Zemo. The second: give you a gift worthy of four days of bragging. 

After successful recon, Natasha’s plane landed in the Avenger’s HQ. She turned in her paperwork that she completed on the flight home, then went to freshen up so she could give you your gift. Natasha found you cuddled up with Steve in the movie room watching some old cartoon. She knocked on the door.

“Got any room for a couple more friends on that couch?”

“Natty, you’re back!” You untangled yourself from Steve and ran to give her a hug. You looked behind her expecting to see more of the group. “Where’s the other friends?”

She held up a bag with the arm that wasn’t hugging you. “Your new friend traveled a long way to get here.”

You squealed and hugged Natasha again before accepting the bag from her hand and kneeling on the floor to pull out the tissue paper and free your gift. 

“You guys are spoiling them, you know that?” Steve asked, lightheartedly from the couch.

“Oh hush, how many hours of screen time have you given them today?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth a couple times, not expecting the question.

“Doesn’t count if the movies came from your time, right?” 

Any response from Steve was cut off by your cheering. 

“BABA OCTOPUS!! BABATOPUS!!” you held up the plush proudly like it was Simba. “Dada, look!”

“Oh he’s beautiful, baby.” Steve chuckled at the round, bright red octopus plush with a deep frown on its face. “What do you say to Nat?”

“THANK YOU NAAAT!” you yelled. Excitement flickered across your face once more, then you ran out of the movie room with the octopus securely tucked under your arm.

“Where are you going, baby? And no running indoors!” Steve shouted as he chased after you. 

You slowed for a bit, but kept moving at a swift pace. “I hav’ta show Baba my new friend!”

Natasha watched your little race from the movie room with an amused grin on her face. During dinner that night, she enjoyed the shocked look on Sam’s face when you pulled up with two grumpy plushies and pretended to feed the octopus before the turtle.

Sam turned to Natasha. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

She smirked. “And you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Steve leaned over to whisper to Bucky. “We’re gonna need more space in the playroom.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

The competition expanded beyond Natasha and Sam. All of the Avengers were determined to find the next grumpy plush to win your heart. There was a penguin from Peter, a frog from Thor, a cat from Tony, and a panda from Wanda. Your collection was starting to get out of control. You desperately wanted to carry all of your plushies everywhere with you to keep things fair, but your daddies put an end to that when you tripped on the sidewalk while trying to push a stroller full of scowling stuffed animals. 

Bucky decided to help you create a system so you could fairly pick one plushie from the collection to carry around for the day. He made small slips of paper so you could write down their names and pull one out of a cup each morning. He brought his supplies to you while you were having an afternoon snack at the dining table. His heart broke seeing you with your knees bandaged up and the streaks of dried tears from the fall earlier today still on your face.

“Hi, Baba,” you sniffled.

“Hey, sweetie. What’s going on? You eatin’ your snack?”

“Mhm.”

“Why aren’t you eating at the kitchen island, baby? You always eat your snack there.”

You pouted and gestured to the plushies sitting around you. “I can’t fit all my friends there.”

“Oh I know, bubs. It must be so hard carrying all these guys around, huh?” He mentally scolded himself for leaving you alone during your snack. He should’ve known better than to expect you to stay put when your little friends were trapped inside the stroller. It must’ve taken so long to arrange the plushies around the table with your injury. 

You perked up at his next words. 

“Baba has something for you.” Bucky spread out the slips of paper on the table and placed a cup next to them. “You can write down the names of all your little friends on these papers and pick one name out of the cup to decide which one you’re walking around with for the day. Does that sound fair?”

You shrugged, “I guess I can do that.” You really would’ve liked a solution that allowed you to bring all of the grumpy plushies with you everywhere, but deep down you knew that it just wasn’t practical. You took the pencil that Bucky held out for you and started writing down your plushies’ names.

Your Baba lovingly kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back while you wrote. He loved watching you focus on a task. He almost didn’t notice what you were writing down.

Bucky squinted then blinked a couple of times, not believing what he saw. “Baby, why are you writing ‘Baba’ on everything?”

You paused and tilted your head back to look at him. “That’s their names. Baba Turtle and Baba Cat and Baba Bear and Baba-”

“Why do you call them that?”

“‘Cause look!” You picked up the grumpy frog sitting next to you and held it out for Bucky to see. “They look like Baba!” You hugged the plushie before setting it back down to continue writing. 

Bucky’s heart melted. His sweet, wonderful baby was so attached to these plushies that reminded them of him. His signature scowl that often got him into trouble brought them comfort. His friends even noticed and spoiled his baby rotten with even more of these toys. 

Bucky continued watching you work. He looked at the plushies differently now. 

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Steve and Bucky were cleaning your playroom. Normally this would be your responsibility, but you had gone to bed a little earlier, and they didn’t want you walking too much with your injury. Steve was putting your plushies into their designated bins. He wasn’t harsh with them, but his efficient method of gathering an armful and plopping them down certainly would have raised an eyebrow from you. 

“Hey, go easy with turtle me,” Bucky teased. 

“Turtle you?” Steve asked. 

Bucky nodded proudly, then held the plush up to his face. “Don’t you see the resemblance?” 

“Whatever, punk. At least my face isn’t the reason we have a 50 gallon bin of stuffed animals.” Steve turned around and kept cleaning, completely missing the look of excitement on Bucky’s face. 

The next day, your Baba volunteered to pick up breakfast while Steve helped you get ready. Bucky stopped by a toy store on his way to the bakery. He’d seen this particular plushie before and knew that this was the perfect moment to get it for you. Not too long later, he was entering your home with bagels in one hand and your new friend in the other. 

Bucky hid the plush behind his back when he heard you and Steve walking towards him. 

“Hi, Baba!”

“Good morning, baby.” Bucky leaned down to kiss your forehead, then kissed Steve’s cheek as a thanks when he handed off the box of bagels. 

You hugged Bucky and couldn’t help but notice that one of his hands wasn’t hugging you back. 

“Baba, hug me better,” you whined. 

Bucky laughed. “Hang on, I’ve got somethin’ for ya.”

You gasped in excitement and took a step back so you could see. Bucky revealed the plush with a dramatic flourish, then somewhat nervously waited for your reaction. The stuffed animal had you in shock. It was a stuffed giraffe that stood with the most perfect posture. It had spiky hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile. You knew exactly who it was supposed to resemble. 

“IT'S DADA!” You squealed and graciously took the plush while running to the kitchen where Steve was. He was already making his way to you when he heard your scream. 

“Dada’s right here, bubba. What’s going on?”

You held up the plush while doing a little dance. “Look! It’s a Dada giraffe!”

Steve laughed then ran a hand over his face when he made the connection. You ran off to your playroom, saying something about “finding a Baba for this Dada” while your daddies shared a look. 

Bucky brought in Steve for a hug, patting his dumbfounded lover on the back. He playfully whispered in his ear, “We’re gonna need more space in the playroom.”

[tokkiwrites]

𖧷 Dirty Diana 🍷

in which you want to surprise your dad with his favorite band tickets. you're really lucky when you stumble upon the lead guitarist, Joel Miller, at your local grocery store. things escalate- but you do get those tickets.

★ ͘rockstar!joel miller, fem!reader, dom joel, sub reader, afab reader, p in v sex unprotected, rough joel, age gap, dumbification of reader, hair pulling, slapping, head m and f receiving, creampie, kind of size kink if u tilt your head, joel has tattoos and a piercings (yummy), sir kink, almost pet play, lots of pet names. drinking, mentions of cheating. lmk if i missed any!!!! ( The pic in the banner doesn't describe the readers body!! there for the aesthetics) not proofread

you've never been a rock fan. sure, you'd enjoy listening to the songs your dad played on your 3 hour long car rides, the ones he always sets as his ring-tone...

but you were in a dilemma nowㅡ there's a giveaway of sorts with tickets to your dad's most favorite band from the early 90's, and to even have a chance at those tickets you need to submit a video of yourself singing one of their songs.

now you would ask your dad, but the first thing that made you this set on getting those tickets was surprising him with them on his upcoming birthday. you'd buy them, but they're either sold out or 200 bucks on shady sitesㅡ and you're a broke college student on winter break.

you sigh, closing your laptop and throwing it on the other side of the bed. you stare up at the ceiling, counting the little neon stars you've had there since you were 10. they always calmed youㅡ made your brain less foggy, even for just a few seconds.

groaning, you throw your legs around, frustrated and disappointed in yourself. this would've really made his worries slip away, for a bit, after what happened with your mom. you still can't wrap your head around why your mom chose her exceeding in nothing, 2 palms of receding hairline co-worker. i mean, he was richㅡ super fucking rich, but was it worth it? your dad didn't deserve it.

you wipe the tears you've just now realized were dripping down your face. "i need something to drink." sniffling, you put on your plush jacket, get some slippers , and spray on some perfume. "at least need to smell presentable if i look likeㅡ" you stare into the mirror, laughing to yourself, "that."

you stroll out of your house and down the street. you were lucky for the grocery store just about 7 minutes away, give or take. it wasn't that small but it wasn't big either, at least not big enough so that you learned form a young age where all of your favorite iles were.

"Hi, Miss Sammy!" you greet the cashier, an old friend of the family and sort of an aunt to youㅡ you remember when she'd let you stay after school in the back of the store up until 5 pm, when your dad came to pick you up. "Hi, honey! How's winter break treating you?"

"'s fine... I'm glad to be back home with dad." you smile and her gaze softened. "Well if you ever need anythin', you let me know sugar, mkay?" you nod, walking to the furthest part of the store, where all of the drinks were. you look around, trying to find the cheapest thing that can get you dizzy the fastest. really deep in your mind you failed to notice someone coming up to your side, breaking the silence.

"Rough day?" you jump, taking one step back before you turn around to see who it was.

"Yeah, you could say thaㅡ wait." you pause. holy shit. you couldn't believe your eyes. "I know you! You're thㅡ" he presses his fingers agains your lips, and oh, it sends a shiver down your back. "quiet down, darlin'."

you nod, whispers-yelling, "You're Joel Miller, right?" he sighs, smiling at your question, and your eyes light up. this is perfect, so, so perfect. "My dad loves you guysㅡ you and your band."

"that so?" your arms flare up, smiling so big. "you've no idea! 's why i was so excited to hear about you coming to town. Wanted to surprise him."

"wanted?" Joel quirks his eyebrows up, his voice dropping an octave. "Yeah, well, i found out pretty late about it and - well, tickets, they're super expensive now, as you'd imagine.." You sigh, turning back to look at the bottles catching the white light of the room. "jus' wanted to give him something to be happy about, you know?" You reach out to grab a 16$ bottle of wine you know is too sweet, but it'll do. trying to lift the mood, you try your hand at a joke. "guess my only option is to fuck somebody who has those tickets." you look at him and his brows are furrowed. stupid, stupid, stupid joke, stupid you.

"so-rry, didn't mean toㅡ"

"that so, pretty girl?" Those words go straight to your core, causing you to nip at your bottom lip, stiff like a stone. "Now, you can't just say somethin' like thatㅡ" Joel leans in closer "'n not answer me."

you look up at him, and you finally get a better look. there aren't many pictures of him close up on the internet, mostly grainy ones where you can barely make out his tattoos. you gulp, eyes traveling across his face: a brow piercing, a full beard with patches of gray, a neck tattoo with a ravenㅡ he looked surreal.

"y'gonna answer me, angel-face? or do i need to pull out those words myself?" god, you were practically dripping on the linoleum of the store, cheeks ablaze and words tangled in your throat.

"I'm ㅡ" he traces his inked fingers across the exposed part of your neck, chuckling at your demeanor. "I live 5 minutes away." you blurt out, causing his eyes to widen. "maybeㅡ come over?" god, what were you doing? you sure hope not to regret your words later. but right now, two things you knew for certain: you were way too turned on, and he was way too hot for his age.

Joel smirks, his fingers lingering on your skin. "Well, darlin', seems like fate's on your side today." He grabs the bottle of wine you were holding, examining it. "I ain't lettin' you drink that, girl." he scoffs, picking up a bottle of Giulio Ferrari from 1992, not even looking at the price. "Let me spoil you a bit, yeah." you can't even say a word, you pathetically whine, as your knees wobble like jelly.

Joel puts the hoodie over his head and looks down at you, his firey stare making your cheeks burn up all over again. "y'know the lady?" he asks, motioning his head towards Sammy who was busy playing Rummy on her phone. "I do, old familyㅡ well, like family." He nods, patting your shoulder, "you go ahead, wait f'me in front of the store by that coffee machine. I'mma pay real quick, yeah?" you nod so fast, way too excited with those butterflies tying knots in your stomach, you head to the door.

"Bye, Miss Sammy!" you wave, and she just hums and gives half of a wave back "buh-bye, sugar." too fixed on her phone. As Joel pays for the bottle of wine, he glances back at you exiting the store.

"Lead the way, darlin'. Let's see if we can work something out." and oh, the way those words make you drip in anticipation. the way you were so eager to have his hands all over your body- those tickets were the last thing on your mind right now. You both head towards your house, the cold air adding a sense of urgency to the situation. You couldn't believe how needy he made you with just a few words. Small talk fills the short journey, with Joel sharing stories from the road and you nervously responding.

Once inside your home, Joel looks around appreciatively. "Cozy place you got here." you nod, leading him to the kitchen. "your daddy home?"

"no.." you fumble your steps as you hurriedly put two glasses on the counter for Joel to fill up with wine. Joel smirks, sensing the tension in the air. "Just us, then," he says, pouring the wine into the glasses. The rich aroma of the aged wine fills the room as he hands you a glass. "Cheers to unexpected encounters," he toasts, clinking glasses with you. The wine is exquisite, but the real intoxication is the electrifying presence of Joel. Tattoos adorned his body, his fluffy hair laid perfectly, strands of gray standing out; the way his muscles bulged through his shirtㅡ you could see it all better now.

"feels like you're about to eat me, baby. way you're starin' me down." joel chuckles. "sorry I'mㅡ sorry." you nervously sip from you glass trying to put out the fire in your core, his voice making it ten times harder for you. "now, how you gonna get what you want if you get so shy on me, hm?"

joel steps closer to you, and your chest burns, heaving up and down as his arms snake around your waist and settle onto your tummy. "ain't you a big girl? thought you were- how you so eagerly invited a stranger ㅡsuch an old man into your home when your daddy ain't around." he rubs through you, a squeaky whimper slipping past your lips as you felt his bulge against you. "oh, she likes that, don't she?" you breathe out "god.."

"not god, baby..jus' me." he chuckles murkily.

"please..." you plead, palms now on top of his as you slowly turn your head to expose your neck further. "please what, babygirl?"

"please, sir..t-touch me." you back your body further, prompting joel to groan and tighten his grasp on you. "jesus, girl." he laughs "dirty little thing." his rough hands make their way under your lace trimmed long-sleeve, grasping at you breasts.

"no bra, baby?" he asks, swirling his thumbs across your sprung up nipples, and you moan a quiet 'no'. "what if your daddy walks through that door right now, huh?"

"dont care..." you lean more into his touch, intoxicated from it and his scent, a hint of smoky wood, and a touch of muskㅡ he smelled delicious. you couldn't wait to have him on your tongue.

"'course you don't. needy little whore wants an old man to fuck her senselessㅡ need me to fill ya up with this cock til you're dumb and can't think no more." you moan, so eagerly shaking your head as you press your ass onto his hard-on, getting joel to wrap his thick fingers around your throat and spin you around to face him. "not so fast, girl. wanna see ya beg, can you do that f'me angel?" his graps grow rougher, and you mewl out a string of yes, yes, yes, whilst dropping to your knees, as he instructs

"eyes up, babyㅡ there she is." joel strokes your face before delivering a harsh slap onto your already red cheek. moaning, you rub your thighs together as to evade just a bit of pressure in your cunt. "pretty little slut. so pretty like this." he growls, taking a handful of your hair "go on now. beg. tell sir how bad you need his cock."

and you do. you beg and plead, press your face against his thigh like a little puppy. you don't take you eyes off of his, prompting yourself with his boot under your clothed cunt. "please, sir.. v'been so good..." and you start moving slowly, cheek now flush against his crotch. you moan and rut against him, heat washing over your whole body. you wanted to make him proud, you dont know what came over youㅡ you were so drunken and you didn't know if it was because of the wine or because of joel.

the way he stared down at you, his pupils almost like an eclipse to his hazel eyes, lips half hidden behind his mustache. The way his piercing gaze holds yours, unwavering and commanding; he was rough and enticing, mean in just the right wayㅡ his voice dripped like honey and you couldn't hold but lick it up and let it poison you through and through.

"atta girl." you looked so vulnerable. so innocent. so raw and ready for him to taint and infect you with his all. he unbuckled his pants, leaving them a bit open at the top, perfectly for you to see the strain his thick cock put onto his briefs. "c'mon. don't make me wait, baby..." you didn't need to hear more, eagerly pulling out his erect length, letting it slap onto his clothed belly. you could drool at the sight, all though you're pretty sure you already were. he was bigㅡ huge even, the biggest you've ever seen. it was girthy and had veins running down it, tip red, dripping with precum. "too b-big-" you manage to let out. "you'll make it fit, puppy. for me, yeah? c'mon, let me fuck that pretty mouth." and you softly reply with 'yes, sir' before he yanks at your hair and directs his dick right between your lips. "open. widee openㅡ there you go." he encourages you as you try your best to fit that monster into your mouth. it hurts and your chin stings as joel slowly stars to thrust his length into you mouth- or at list what fits of it.

"pretty slut. look so good with her mouth full of cock." joel hums as you whine around him. "like this cock, baby?" he knows you can't answer, mouth too full and brain to fuzzy. "so cock stupid, can't even speak." he laughs. you've never felt like this, god, not even imagined something like this. yet there you were with someone who's twice your age fucking your mouth. "what would your daddy say?" you whine and squeeze around nothing, nails digging into the back of his knees. joel can only laugh as he puls out, rubbing his tip over your lips to collect the drool that mixed with his precum, and smear it all over your rosy cheeks.

you felt so dirty. but it felt rightㅡ for a good cause, right?

he slaps your face with his length before pulling you up by your hair, bending you over the kitchen counter. "gonna let me fuck you, babygirl?"

"yes-" you wriggle into his hold. "yes, what?" hes prying "yes, sir." you obediently reply. "good fuckin' pup." he doesn't even haltㅡ joel pulls down your pants at once with your panties. he delivers a harsh slap before trailing his digits right between your legs. "poor lil' cunt. look at 'er." he coos. "crying for this cock."

"please, sirㅡ mmhg.." whining, you try to rub yourself onto his fingers, but he quickly slaps you again, this time on the side of your thigh. "don't be a greedy bitch. you take what i give you, understand?"

"y-yes, sir, pleaseㅡ" he clicks his tongue before kneeling, spreading your pussy lips as he does, leaning in and blowing onto your sensitive clit. you jump and moan in frustration. "i know, baby, i know." he spreads your legs further, finally landing a soft and teasing lick between your folds. it doesn't take long for joel to go at it, sucking and licking at your cunt like theres no tomorrow, your desperate pleads to come only fueling him. "not yet, angel-baby." he gorans, picking himself up. "want you to come 'round my cock. want you to come while i stuff you up nice 'n good." you nod, not even half sure what you heard, you were too dizzy and the sudden lack of stimulation drove you mad.

joel positions himself behind you, lifting your leg up so one of your knees rests onto the counter. he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, wanting to pull more from you, to get you even needful. you couldn't barely muster to hold yourself up, letting all of your weight on Joel, deprived pleads rolling of your tongue.

when he's content with the teasing, he starts to ease into you. it's like you're awakened from a trance, fully aware of everything, and every fiber of your body. it all vibrates as a sting spreads through your body, and you squeeze around Joel. "fuckkㅡ so fuckin' tight, baby- I'd think were a virgin if i didn't know what a cock slut you actually are." he laughs somberly before plunging straight into you. your tongue luls out, tears on the brink of your eyes as you cand only squeal out pathetic moans and incoherent blathers. "shitㅡ ! squeezing me so good, baby"

and he goes at you, diving deeper and deeper with each hit of his hips, one palm holding your leg up and one pressing you face flush on the cold surface of the counter. "like that? like it when an old man has his way with ya, huh?" you can't hear him, you barely make out his words; your eyes roll back and spine arched as he plummets into your cunt. "fucked you stupid, huh? dirty girl." joel snickers, feeling your walls squeeze around him as he takes one of your palms and places it right on top of your belly. "feel." and, fuck, you feel. his cock reaches so far into you it bulges through your pelvis; you feel it and you're jelly all over again.

he takes both his arms and hold you by your shoulders, hit after hit after hit sending you deeper into oblivionㅡ and you can only moan and cry as you feel your orgasm approaching. desperately, you clench around his cock, sending joel into a frenzy. "wanna come, pup? tell me." he's stern and rough with his request. "hhhaㅡ y-yes, plea-se..." you don't know if you're crying because you feel too good or because of how desperately you need to come.

"come then, make me proud, baby." you writhe as the knots in your core begin to untie, shaking under joel whilst it hits you like a wave of warmth and frost at once. it doesn't take long for him to reach his limit, digging his nails through your thighs, gritting his teeth as he leaves bruises onto you, you wish would never go away.

"need'a come babyㅡ shit! where, tell me where baby." you feel him so deep, you're drunk on him, vision blurry and mind fogged up. you usually don't say this. "in-side- inside, sir, please.." you beg, and you don't wait more than two more seconds as joel spills his warm seed into you, causing you to lick your lips as if you could taste it. Joel holds himself over you, panting as he trails soft kisses onto your back. "did so good, babygirl." you smile stupidly, rolling your hips against his.

"soㅡ" he makes a pause. "you still want those tickets?"

⏜⃞♡⠀⠀🐰 hoohououiuoooio hi guys im kind of pretty obsessed with joel rn so i gotta quench my thirst. this has 3.1k words. hope u like it!! muahhhh thank u again for 150!!!! if u see any grammatical errors no u didn't.

[lght-roastcoffee]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Scared ⋆ ˚｡⋆

prompt: "I'm in love with you, and that scares me."┆Tuna-Tober ⊹ Day 8

pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

wordcount: 692

warnings: slight language, mentions of past injuries, angst with a happy ending

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘯𝘢���𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢-𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

I can’t stop thinking about him.

Him and his bright green eyes. His freckle-dusted cheeks. The leather jacket he always wears. It’s probably so warm. He’s so kind to those he saves. He may not show it often, keeping his emotions behind a well guarded wall, but I see it every time. 

Dean Winchester is a beaten and bruised man with the heart of a hero. I understand why he can’t let anyone in. I understand the past burdens placed on his shoulders and the horrors he’s had to witness. But why does he have to be so mean?

“It’s like every time I turn my back you’re there needing saving.” Dean lifts the glass of whiskey in his hands to his plush lips and takes a sip. “Just for one night, that’s all I asked. But you can’t stay out of danger.”

“Dean, it’s not like I wanted to be attacked.” I huff, crossing my arms, leaning my back against the Roadhouse bar next to him. 

“Well, it sure seems like it sometimes,” he says, taking another swig. 

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “What are you trying to say, Dean?”

“I’m saying I’m tired of always saving your ass when I should be busy ganking the monsters.”

I huff again, pushing myself away from the bar. “Am I that useless to you?”

He sighs, looking down at the glass now resting on the bar and closes his eyes. “I’m just saying you’re getting reckless, Y/N. I’m not always gonna be there to save you when things go sideways.”

“But you don’t want me around.” I face Dean, anger and frustration slowly rising in me. “I’m just another burden to you right?”

Dean lifts his head, looking to the ceiling, before facing me, slight frustration coating his expression. “Stop putting words in my mouth, Y/N. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“But that is what you meant,” I say, voice raising slightly in anger. “I get it, Dean, really. You’re tired of saving me. You’re tired of babysitting the child you see me as. If I’m such a burden, maybe I should just leave then.”

I start walking towards the doors of the Roadhouse, but a hand at my wrist stops me in my tracks. Dean spins me back to face him, eyebrows scrunched together and frustration shining in his eyes. “Damn it, Y/N! Just let me talk!”

Thank whoever is listening that it’s empty right now. “No, Dean, I think you’ve said all you’ve been wanting to say.”

He lets go of my wrist and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further than it was. “I… I’m in love with you!” I freeze, his words running through my head as I process them. “And that scares me, okay? I-I don’t want to be the reason you die or see you die. I can’t handle that.”

The frustration slowly leaves my body as it relaxes seeing the man I’ve been crushing on in such a vulnerable state.

“Dean,” I whisper, closing the space between us. I rest a hand on his shoulder, making him look at me. “I love you, too.”

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him as I wrap mine over his shoulders. He buries his head in my shoulder and just holds me like that. I squeeze him just as hard in return, enjoying the comfort he brings. After a while, he pulls back slightly and cups my face in one of his rough hands. I stare wide eyed into his emerald ones shining in gratitude and love. Tired of waiting any longer, I pull him down and press my lips to his softly. Dean sighs into the kiss, lips moving against my own as he deepens it slightly.

Someone behind me clears their throat, causing us to separate in surprise. We both turn our heads towards the door to see Sam standing there. “Did I miss something?”

I laugh as Dean chuckles into my shoulder, placing a kiss there. Dean pulls away smiling as he looks me in the eyes again. 

“Just walk away, Sammy.”

[lunaroserites]

Stunning

Pairing: Established Castiel x Winchester!Reader (Fem)

Summery: Based after Castiel became human, and loosely based off a post I seen about how after he became human he say Dean's face for the first time.

Words: 1365

Warning: Fluff, Kissing, a little sad with a happy ending, Canon Divergent (Canon is a suggestion). Not edited we die like Winchesters.

She sat comfortably on one of the plush couches in the library. Her coffee mug clutched between her hands, she was trying to absorb the heat from the ceramic mug. The bunker was cold in the mornings, the fans above that pulled fresh air in were noticeable in the quiet of the morning. 

Her morning tea brought her the heat she needed to get ready for the day. Her brothers had left her in a hurry last night after getting a frantic call from Castiel telling them the angels fell and he lost his grace. She wanted to go but her brothers said it would be best if she stayed home and manned the phone, hunters would be calling for assistance and she was best to answer their calls. 

Her job as a hunter was picking up for Bobby, she would spend days on end researching with him, learning from him, she took over for him when he passed. Her heart clenched thinking back to the elder hunter she viewed as a father.

Her brothers had called an hour ago to tell her they would be home soon and they had her angel in tow. Well he wasn’t an angel anymore she figured. Losing his grace meant he was pretty much human now. 

The bunker door banged open, making her jump as the peaceful quiet was shattered by the sound of heavy boots and grunts as three of the most important men in her life made their way to where she was curled up. One of Dean's flannels covered most of her upper body, the sleeves rolled up. She never slept well alone so she would wear one of Dean’s flannels and she would use Sam's blanket and pillow that Castiel would use during the night as she slept next to him. She would surround herself in their safety. 

She looked at her brothers, Dean was the first down the stairs he gave her a grim look, she searched his face for something to indicate what she should be prepared for. He gave her very little. Sammy was right behind him and his face was less grim but not much more optimistic looking. The last was Castiel, and he looked awful. He looked exhausted, he looked cold. He looked completely lost. He hadn’t looked at her yet, his face downcast as he made his way down the stairs, he gripped the rail harder than she had ever seen him grip it before. 

She stood before Castiel made it to the bottom of the stairs, she walked forward and stood just behind Dean, her hands wrapped around his arm, he brought his free hand up and rubbed soothing circles on her hand. Sammy stood beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, he leaned down, “he’s a little overwhelmed,” he whispered to her. 

Castiel was at the bottom landing still looking down but focused on his hands in front of him. She nodded at her brother and took slow steps forward before she stopped a couple paces from the former Angel. He still hadn’t looked up from his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his, she wanted to sooth his fidgeting fingers, ease his worries. Make him feel better. 

“Cas,” she said quietly, his heart fluttered at how softly she spoke to him. Her voice brought him some peace, it didn’t sound much different from while he was an angel. The brothers had sounded different. Much more gruff, not as smooth. Her voice was still like little bells that chimed in perfect harmony. Her voice was music to his ears. 

She moved closer to him, her other hand touching his cheek gently, she was trying to coax his face upwards so she could look at him fully. He leaned his cheek into her touch, her touch was feather light, gentle and soothing. Her skin felt like a warm blanket to him, her fingers trembling against his cheek. He could feel her worry roll off her in waves. She always wore how she was feeling on her sleeve, he always knew how she was feeling. She was always one of the easiest to understand even while he was Angel. 

“Castiel, look at me” she cooed gently at him, he lifted his face and had his eyes closed. He was afraid of her looking into his eyes and not seeing the Angel he was and only seeing the shell that was left. She ran her thumb across his cheek, a few of his tears slipped past his closed eyes. That was a sensation he was not going to get used to anytime soon. “Please love.” 

He opened his eyes and looked at her face. He truly looked at her face, for the first time he saw her face. She was beautiful. Her skin was speckled with years of living, laugh lines, crows feet. She looked like she truly lived. While an angel he had never seen her face for what it truly was. But now he sees every pore, every wrinkle, every freckle. Her eyes were a beautiful green like Dean’s, her lips a soft pink and her hair was a lovely mahogany color. 

He took his clenched hands from her and placed them on her face, inspecting her, feeling her skin for the first time. He had touched her before but never had it felt this real. It was so overwhelming, his heart was beating loudly in his ears as he stared deeply into her eyes. Her lips parted as she took a sharp breath when he touched her. 

Then she smiled at him, “Castiel.” 

“You are stunning,” Castiel said breathlessly. He brought her face towards his and kissed her gently. The feeling of her lips on his was almost too much for his mortal heart to handle. He hadn’t imagined what it would be like, to feel life like a human, he hadn’t imagined she would feel this perfect. 

Someone cleared their throat behind the two, Castiel reluctantly pulled back from her and she gave him a sweet smile. 

“So this my Castiel now?” She said softly, her eyes searching his face. 

“This is your Castiel now,” his voice sounded the same, he looked the same, a little rugged and his lips felt the same. The only difference was the lack of soft thumb she would feel buzzing under his skin. The thumbing would get stronger under her touch. That was the only thing that was gone. 

“Well I’m okay with that,” she pulled him to her side and wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. She was just happy he was alive and he was here with her.

Dean looked between his baby sister and Castiel, when they first started dating he was against it. Hell he still didn’t like it. Castiel promised him he would protect her with his life. Something he truly meant as he had risked his life more than once to keep her safe. Now that Cas was human he didn’t know how protecting her would go, but he knew Castiel would do whatever it took to keep her safe. 

Sam had left the library and went to find some food for the four of them. He had noticed his blanket on the couch, knowing she stayed there the whole night, waiting for them to come home. Dean’s flannel hung loosely off her frame, and he figured the pillow that was next to his blanket was Castiel’s pillow. 

He hated leaving her here alone, she was never good with it, someone always stayed with her or she was with them. Ever since her Castiel got together he always made sure she wasn’t alone for long periods of time and he would constantly update her on his whereabouts. Something Sam appreciated greatly from the former Angel. He looked at the fridge, being held up with a piece of electrical tape, there was a picture of the four of them. They were all smiling, she insisted it be taped to the fridge, a reminder that no matter what they had each other and there was room for happiness in this fucked up world. 

[pray4saint]

how it was on your honeymoon with chuckle sammy

masterlist & descrip. rated r. 16+. smut. afab!reader & gn!reader. 2.2k words total. sfw version.

ted - afab!reader, shorter blurb, ted being a tease, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, sheet humping, implied oral sex (reader receiving)

ted teased you all throughout the day, mercilessly. he wanted to work you up for that night. after all, you were married now, it wasn't the same as dating sex.

”ted c'mon hands off.” you pulled his hand from your thigh and dropped it back in his lap. ”you can wait until we get to the hotel, can't you my love?” ted faked a moment of thought. ”yeah, course i can.” you nodded to him and quickly kissed his cheek. not even five minutes later, his hand was back on your thigh, inching closer to your sex.

by the time you'd gotten to the hotel, you were all hot and bothered and frustrated. ”what is wrong with you?” you roll your suitcase out of the way and turn around to face your husband. he reached for your arm, pulling you closer until he can get his hands perched your waist, flushing your chests together. ”what do you mean sweetheart? what did i do?” in all reality he knew what he was doing and he was enjoying every second of your irritation. you scowl at him and he laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips. when he pulls away, it's not far, just far enough to whisper against your mouth, ”is there anything i can do to make it better my dear?” his hands travel south, to the sides of your thighs. ”i think there might be.” despite the small smile on your lips, your tone is still firm and frustrated. ”oh yeah?”

there was a flurry of sloppy, open-mouthed, loud making out and clothes flying everywhere as ted guided you back to the bed.

- ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ -

”sweetheart look at how wet y'are for me.” your husband pulled his hand away from your slit and you whined at the loss of contact. you watched him turn his middle and index fingers in the light to show off the slick you'd covered them with. ”ted, c'mon. stop teasing me.” he chuckled and kissed the inside of your thigh before he slid his fingers along your slit and when you went to protest again, cut you off by plunging his fingers into your cunt.

the sleep depravity, the hours of buildup, him, his fingers, the warmth of the room, how the sheets felt, it all added to how good his fingers felt pumping in and out of you, his other hand plants firmly on the plush of your thigh, keeping you close to him. on occasion he'd kiss at your clit, trailing down to where his fingers worked you open. ”god you're gorgeous hon'.” you almost didn't pick up on his words because all you could really hear was your mewls and the sound of his fingers moving with your fluids.

when you pulled your head up from the pillow and down at the man between your legs, you could see his hips moving. he was bucking into the sheets trying to release some of the friction in his pants and it only turned you on more. ”baby, fuck– come up here and–” you whined at how he slowed his fingers and tilted his head at you in interest, although he knew how you hated it when he slowed down. ”teddy come up here and fuck me.” you reached your hand down from where it had fisted at the sheets to the side of his face, caressing his cheek. ”not until you've come undone like this f'me. you understand right my dear? just wanna make you feel good.” before you can challenge his words, he picks up the pace and puts his tongue to work at your clit. your hand moves rather frantically up to his hair and you grab tight, throwing your head back once again. it was gonna be a long night for you.

charlie - afab!reader & one use of 'girl', nervous!charlie, praise, kind of service dom!charlie

since you and charlie got on that first plane, he'd been worried about what your expectations would be for your first night as a married couple. sure, you'd had sex plenty of times before but this was different. you were married now and in his mind there were certain expectations that came with that. of course you were so preoccupied with the flights and getting to the hotel that night that you didn't seem to notice his nervous demeanour.

”you ready to go?” you squeezed your new husband's hand to get his attention away from the ceiling. ”hm, yeah, m'ready.” you gave him an unsure look but nonetheless kept walking through and up to the ticket check for the next plane.

with how unsure he seemed in the airport about whatever was on his mind, it made you worry, and that entire next flight you held your hand in his or on his thigh, even while you were asleep. and as much as he enjoyed the physical display of your care, it didn't ease his mind much. also, with your hand moved on his thigh in your sleep, there were a few times it seemed like your hand wandered dangerously close to his crotch, leaving him both nervous and a little horny.

”char come here would you?” your husband perked up from the bedroom, getting up to find you in the bathroom. ”what's up?” you stood in front of the mirror, towel up high around your chest and it really was not helping how his mind still continued to wander to what could happen tonight. ”does this spot look like a pimple?” you turn to him with a pout on your lips. ”no baby, y'look beautiful.”

”you know you don't have to say that just because we're married right?” you look at him through the mirror with a smile. he puts his hands up in self defence, ”i'm not lying, you look gorgeous.” you tap at your lips and your husband rushes over, pressing a kiss to your cheek and then to your lips. ”m'serious, you look so good, always do.” you smile against his lips and in no time you find yourself straddling charlie in the bedroom, towel discarded on the floor.

”charlie, honey, it's okay.” you hold your lips close to his ear, your hands running under his shirt.

”no baby, i want this to be special for you.” you smile at him but you don't move. ”please.” after a moment of thinking you give in and roll over.

- ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ -

once your husband had gotten his cock nestled inside you, snug against the walls of your cunt, there was this renewed sense of confidence in him, and it was evident in how he pressed his hips against yours, hands moving along your sides while his mouth pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, making you moan with your hands rested on his shoulders.

”charlie f– charlie fuck, feels so good.” you held him close as you could, the combined feeling of his cock dragging inside your pussy and his mouth sucking hickeys into your navel and the surrounding skin. he mumbled something against your skin but you couldn't hear, too enamoured by everything else.

he's like a dog waiting for and wanting your approval. ”really? feels good?” you can only nod in response, whining as he rolls his hips into you over and over again. even without your verbal praise, the nod you gave him made him more confident and he moved with a faster pace. ”ohgodohgodohgod,” the little swears you let out under your breath and praises you managed to mutter between moans encouraged charlie, and bit by bit the original nervousness he had was removed entirely, replaced with this need, the need to make you cum.

”please don't stop, i'm so,” another moan was torn from your body, making your face scrunch up and charlie absolutely loved how you looked, wrecked for him, whining and clenching down on his cock. ”so close handsome.” he almost purred at the nickname, pulling one of his hands low to your pelvis where he pressed his thumb down against your clit. the action solicited a louder moan from you, your cunt begging his cock to keep fucking into you.

as he got closer, he kept pushing it away, focused entirely on making you cum on his dick. ”charlie, m'gonna cum.” he breathed against your chest, pressing a soft kiss between your breasts. ”yeah? y'gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” again you can only nod. ”god y'so beautiful.” all you can do is moan under his touch, letting the feeling in your stomach grow even further.

”fuck, charlie, fuck!” you screamed as you let your orgasm wash over you, your husband fucking his cock into you through your orgasm, praising you through it, kissing along the the expanse of your chest. ”so good baby, that's my sweet girl.”

once you'd gotten through your high and he'd pulled out, you were quick to sit up and slide off the bed to your knees. ”what are you doing love, come get some sleep.” despite his words, you're not gonna leave him unfinished, his cock still hard.

with a heavy breath you reach up, settling yourself between his legs and reach for his dick, him gasping at even the light touches ”m'gonna make you cum now honey, okay?” now it's his turn to only nod in response.

schlatt - gn!reader although many uses of word 'wife', desperate!schlatt, dom!schlatt, size kink, praise, dirty talk, superiority kink, calling schlatt 'sir', mention of cumming inside/creampie

your husband of barely a day had kind of been fixated on having his way with you since the moment you sliced the cake at the reception. because of the constant moving around airports and getting on and off planes you didn't notice the darker glint in his eye when you looked up at him. plus, as horny as he was, he knew he shouldn't distract you while you were in the zone, getting from one place to the next.

the scheduled pick up time for the car rental was tomorrow morning, but for the evening you and schlatt clambered into an uber.

”thank you.” you waved with a small smile at the uber driver, but then schlatt was dragging you by the wrist into the hotel, the bell boy moving your bags. he was quick with reception, getting the keycard to go upstairs.

you tried to talk to him but nothing changed, he didn't say a word. once you'd reached the room he waited for the bell boy to put your bags inside and nodded to him as he left.

”j, baby what the f–” his lips were on yours in an instant, pushing you against the door while he turned the lock. the action took you back, but still you gave him, kissing him back with your hands against his chest. when he pulled away from you there was a string of saliva connecting your lips and he smiled at how flushed your face was. ”i've needed you s'bad. so bad.” pressed against you, you could feel his hard-on and it made you gasp. ”go get on the bed for me sweetheart.” his tone was sweet but you still heard something bitter in the words.

- ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ -

once he'd got you on your stomach with your ass up and his cock inside you, his pace was brutal, as was the grip schlatt had on your hips. you were sure by the time morning rolled around there'd be marks left behind by his hands.

”y'so small under me, hm? my perfect little wife?” it was a rhetorical question that was met with only the sounds of you moaning his name. it wasn't a sense of ownership – maybe it was – but he loved how tiny you looked beside him, and under him, and on top of him. he loved knowing he could cover your entirety like a blanket, and something about it made him so needy to have you even in the most tame situations.

”god, bet'ya didn't know how close i was to havin' you meet in the plane bathrooms, huh?” again the only response he got was your sounds of pleasure. he allowed his hands to move from your hips to your back, feeling along the arch and you screamed for him, he could feel how it reverberated close to your heart and it made him chuckle.

every word he said to you made it harder to hold out, but you kept trying. you wanted so badly to be good for him. to be his sweet little wife who took everything he gave you. ”m'gettin' so close pretty..” his voice trailed off, low grunts making you squeeze against his cock. ”cum, cum inside, please..” your words were barely audible, a long low mutter, and schlatt leaned over, his hips still pressed against your ass. ”what was that sweetheart?” now you could feel his breath against the back of your neck and it made you shiver. it also made you clench down on his cock yet again. you whined at him when he kissed just behind your ear. ”c'mon pretty, what was it?”

”want you–” you interrupted yourself with a moan. ”want you to cum inside, please sir.” the words only seemed to encourage your husband to rut into with a faster fervour than before, his breathing and low noises of pleasure like music to your ears.

”i know you'been holdin' back baby but you can go ahead, you can go on and cum. cum f'me like the perfect little thing you are f'me.” there was no other warning and your moans became pornographic when you came. ”good job baby, did so good” he kissed the back of your neck as his hips continued to rock against you. ”just hold on a minute for me, okay?”

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[wilsonthemoose]

Warning Signs

John doesn't mind that they play so much basketball. It lends itself quite naturally to their training.

Whumptober Day 10: Blow to the Head

Teen and Up | John, Sam, and Dean | Pre-series | Sports | Head Injury

.

Sam is four days old the first time John thinks he might lose him— the jaundice sets in fast in the middle of the night and they don't notice till next morning. They're told they did the right thing bringing him into the hospital and in the same sure tone of voice assured that it's quite common and Sam should pull through by day seven.

They bring him back in a gift shop romper with 'World's Greatest Basketball Player' printed on the front. John has mixed feeling about the romper but Dean insists on saving it when they're sorting through clothes Sam has grown out of.

Sam is two months old when he's gifted his first basketball— it's a plush toy with a long tag that Sam tries to use to fling the ball around. He's five months old the first time he manages to clear the top of the crib and Dean yells with delight.

Sam is six months old the second time John fears for his life and after that, no matter how much he may try to temper that fear, it never quite goes away. John doesn't try very hard, and then not at all.

Sam is a few weeks short of three years old when he manages to copy Dean and bounce the ball up and down twice; Dean proudly declares that Sam will make a fine dribbler the way he's going and John agrees as he lifts him up into the air, shrieking.

John doesn't mind that they play so much. It lends itself quite naturally to their training— Sam at eight is fast, a sprinter off the blocks, a rabbit leading a chase, changing direction quicker that John can think to suggest it, and Dean is strong, puts his weight quite naturally into his punches without John ever having to say a word about proper technique.

Sam is 14 when John is forced to admit— not in so many words— that he's afraid for Sam's life. Sam sneaks away behind John's back and gets tested to see if he's a match for donating part of his liver to the wife of one of John's friends, Laura, who took care of the boys when they were younger. John yells and shouts when he finds out, threatens and punishes, forbids. "You're fourteen which means I have to okay this thing and I'm not okaying shit!" he yells, flinging a ceramic mug into the wall next to where Sam is standing. Later, when Sam is sitting on the steps outside, arms around his knees, shivering, John goes out and puts an arm around him. "How am I supposed to protect you from dying on an operating table, Sammy?" he asks and hopes it answers a lifetime of doubts.

John will stop the car outside basketball courts or on empty backroads in the middle of the night when cabin fever is likely, otherwise, to provoke a fight, and let the two of them out for a game or two. He doesn't encourage rough play but he does turn a blind eye to it. They get rowdy as they get older.

Sam, at fifteen didn't quite know what to do with his long limbs, awkward as a doe on ice, but at sixteen he seems to have grown into them. He'll dodge out in front of Dean, snatch the ball right out of the air and dribble away. He's good, in his way. He doesn't make as many baskets as Dean but he's good at making Dean not make as many baskets as Dean. He provokes Dean into taking risks and forces him to make stupid mistakes. Dean ends up angry, Sam ends up smug. John recognizes the tune of their lives but decides to use this too as training: he yells at Dean from the sidelines to keep calm, to not be so stupid. He yells at Sam about proper technique, ("Get low if you want to jump high, Sam") and just to wipe the smug look off Sam's face, steps in himself. He walks away impressed.

If circumstances were different, Sam might've made a hell of a college player, maybe even a decent pro.

They stop playing so much. Dean provokes Sam instead into sparring with him. It's almost a shame.

They get good at taking care of their own scrapes and bruises. Sam will fish out bits of gravel from his elbows under a flickering light. Dean will wait till John turns his back to take a furtive swig of the whiskey he's supposed to be using to clean his wounds. John wonders if it's possible to pinpoint exactly when they stopped playing. Was it on the broken court in Colorado with a camping lamp for light or was it in the parking lot of the motel in Indiana when Sam stumbled back and Dean didn't stop to let him get up again?

John tires them out by putting them through a mini boot camp every time he comes back from a hunt, or by making them do drills in the early hours of the morning when they're with him.

Sam is seventeen when John thinks this time he really is dead. The gunshot echoes in his head, his heart stops in his chest, tumbles to his knees, his lungs feel suddenly empty, and he hurtles through the door, trips down the stairs, and throws himself out of the house to where he stationed Sam to keep watch. This wasn't supposed to happen— he was supposed to be safe out there. He was supposed to be—

Sam takes a ragged breath, his face shines pale in the darkness. The bullet's torn into his side. John holds his hands over the wound, presses down, whispers "Sorry, Sam," when Sam bites down on a yelp, and presses harder. Dean lead-foots them to the hospital with John on his knees in the backseat holding firm pressure on the wound.

In the waiting room, John paces like a caged animal and Dean sits hunched over in a chair.

They're allowed in to visit when Sam comes out of surgery but they're told he might not wake up for a few hours yet.

The gift shop is near empty when John goes in to re-check, see if there's anything Dean missed. Surely, surely, there has to be something in Sam's size sitting around there somewhere. He's shown the same white shirt with the large orange basketball emblazoned on the front that Dean's already bought for Sam. John wonders if he can convince Sam to wear one of the unwashed shirts lying in the trunk instead but then thinks better of it.

Confined to bed for days, Sam reaches an arm out from under the covers and dribbles the ball on the carpeted floor. When the man in the room opposite bangs on the door and tells John to put a stop to the racket, John tells him to go to hell.

Sam bounces back pretty fast. He always does.

Sam was seven the first time he came to John with his head all bloody, swaying where he stood until John looked up from his journal, then he stumbled into John's lap. He was nine the first time John felt he was getting past Dean without Dean letting him. He was ten the first time John had to break up a fight between his sons. He was fourteen when an errant fist crashed into John's arm instead of Dean and Sam froze in horror, genuinely apologetic, earning himself a hard left hook to the jaw from Dean before Dean had a chance to check his blow. He was sixteen the first time he ended up with a concussion bad enough to have John worried. He complained every single time John tried to check up on him that weekend. He's nearly eighteen and John doesn't take it seriously for a long moment as Sam's arms flail, one almost reaching up to his face. John almost dismisses the gesture as reflex. The ball seems to float in limbo, one bright speck of fresh red imprinted just under a black rib of the ball. John sees Sam's pupils, pinpricks, blow out. Or maybe he imagines the detail. The ball thumps to the ground and rebounds thrice, rolling away. "You okay?" Dean calls over his shoulder as he moves to get the ball, then turns around again, confused. It starts to rain, softly. A drop falls to Sam's face, joins the tiny rivulet of blood dripping out of his nose. There's very little of it. Hardly any at all.

John feels himself move forwards, registers pain as the concrete crashes up into his knees, he leans over Sam, takes his shoulder, gently for some reason when he should be shaking Sam, telling him to get up, get in the car. Telling him he doesn't want the two of them taking damp clothes into the car so skedaddle. A drop of blood splatters on the faded grey-blue concrete of the court. John moves his hand under Sam's head— he doesn't remember lifting to cradle it but he must have— and finds a small wound. Small enough that it doesn't even need stitching. Not even a bandage.

"Okay kiddo?" he asks like he honestly expects an answer. Dean's still standing where he stopped, fingers bunched in his hair, palms pressed against his temples. He looks somewhat crazed.

John gathers Sam up, snaps at Dean to help him and they get Sam into the car, make it, somehow, to the hospital. John doesn't want to let go when they tell him they need to take Sam in for a CT, some insane part of him protesting that it's futile, but he signs the form they give him and signs again later— hemorrhage? half listening when the doctor explains about the surgery.

Dean's at Sam's bedside, trying to apologize and trying not to cry, garbling his words so he achieves neither objective.

"Sir? Do you understand?"

"Yes."

They wheel him away.

He can tell by the long walk along the corridor from the elevators, by the way the doctor looks at him for a fleeting moment and then lowers his eyes for the rest of the way until he reaches the chairs, knows it before the man opens his mouth to break the news. "We did everything we could—" and so on.

Actually, he's still alive, in a technical, not-really-there sort of way. They didn't let him go, when his body gave out. "I'd like to talk to you about organ donation." A new voice this time. Sympathetic tilt of the head, hushed tone, muted, sober clothes like this is the exact conversation they keep her around for. He should never have let them cut him open. His head is bandaged as if it makes a difference. John thinks maybe he should shout and tell them to leave him alone but he can't bring himself to do it.

"Sir?" She asks, gently.

He looks up. "No," he growls. "And fuck off," he adds.

Behind him, for the first time since the court, Dean speaks up. "Yes," he says and clears his throat. "He's a match for Laura," he says "She needs a liver—" this to the woman. "He promised her."

"Shit happens." John hears himself reply. "She can find her own liver." The kind of flippancy that Sam always hated.

"He's eighteen in a few hours," Dean's voice cracks. It's probably that, John thinks, that makes him walk out of the room and let Dean sign away Sam's organs.

"He might not have liked hunting but he liked saving people, Dad," Dean tells him later. The woman tells him about a man with cystic fibrosis who will live another several years because of Sam, a little girl who won't need dialysis anymore, a woman who can plan for more than the next few weeks and for more than hospital visits and bills, a firefighter just four beds down who just might make it now. John can't be bothered with saying he wishes them all a speedy death and he supposes, someday, he won't think it either.

They bury him— what's left of him— in the same graveyard as Mary. They never visit.

Laura tries to get into contact, leaves him tearful messages, "He was like a son to me too, John." John blocks her number. When Dean strikes off on his own for the odd hunt here and there, John doesn't object. He tosses the basketball into a storage unit and doesn't bother to go in and look when it bounds into something and breaks it.

Days and weeks muddle past. One day suddenly Sam is nineteen years old except that he never even got to eighteen. They've stopped talking about him.

Given what he knows— what he's learnt about Sam— it might be all for the best, except that he doesn't believe in that kind of thing and since when has fate dealt him a kind hand anyway? At least he died innocent, John thinks sometimes, usually at the bottom of a bottle.

Weeks and months turn into another year, then two, and three. John will stop the car sometimes outside basketball courts and stand there for hours, remembering the squeak and scuffle of shoes on asphalt, the huffing of breaths, cut-off curses, the snatch of a laugh.

Given what he knows— what he'd learnt about Sam— he really should have seen it for what it was. When he hears about the man in Oregon, the little girl with the half-familiar name, the woman, the firefighter, Laura— he doesn't do anything. When he gets a call from a payphone in Illinois and hears Sam's voice, panicked, "Dad?" John realizes it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise.

[little-diable]

Summer Storm - Dean Winchester (smut)

Written for my lovely @smellingofpoetry 400 followers celebration – congrats again, love! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader are sworn enemies, enemies that keep hunting together. As Baby runs out of gas the two find themselves trapped at a beach, waiting for the summer storm to pass. Perhaps it is finally time to let go of their hatred

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car sex, enemies to lovers, please don't be like these two idiots and go for a dip in the ocean when a thunderstorm is raging

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

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

There was an uncomfortable silence lingering in Baby, filling the thick tension that grew with every breath exhaled from Dean and (y/n)’s lips. Dean had his green eyes focused on the road ahead, while (y/n) tried to follow the dark clouds moving by, gaze flickering between the ocean and the sky. They were on their way to a new town, set on finding a demon that seemed to keep the town’s citizens on their toes, forcing them to abide by its games. 

It wasn’t the first time (y/n) and Dean were on a hunt without Sammy near, wasn’t the first time both were forced to spend time together, and yet they still clung to the hatred simmering deep inside of them, calling one another their worst enemy. It was pathetic, bound together by a strange kind of hatred they’ve fuelled ever since they’ve met as teenagers, sticking to their routines, trying to avoid one another at any given cost. 

“What was that?” An unfamiliar sound echoed through the air, eyes snapping towards Dean to figure out why Baby was suddenly slowing down. A silent “Fuck” ripped from Dean’s plush lips, hands tightly grasping the steering wheel as Baby came to a halt on the side of the road. 

“We’re out of gas.” It took (y/n) a moment to reply, eyes wide, full of annoyance as she watched Dean close his eyes, head pushed against the headrest. “Shut it, I don’t have the energy to bicker with you right now. I’ll call the nearest gas station, it shouldn’t be that far.” 

With her lips parted, (y/n) gaped at Dean, not used to him speaking with words this rough, dripping with an unfamiliar annoyance. Both were all too used to their back and forth, to the words they’d growl, knowing that the other would react with matching energy. Not once had Dean backed down from a fight, not once had he pulled away, feeling a sick sense of pride in seeing (y/n) growing angry, fueled by his teasing words. 

While Dean pulled out his phone, googling for the right person to call, (y/n) stepped out of Baby, letting the warm Summer air engulf her. Before she could stop herself, her feet had already started walking, sinking into the sandy beach, drawn closer as if the ocean was calling out to her, forcing the woman to embrace the salty air stroking her limbs, eyes meeting the black sky above. 

It took her a moment to notice the raindrops falling from the fast moving clouds, dripping onto her frame. It felt as if the sky was crying, begging the woman to find her way back to Dean, who kept watching her from Baby. (Y/n) was all too oblivious to the way his eyes kept moving with her frame, always watching out for the woman he hated – at least that’s what he forced her to believe. 

“(Y/n)!” Dean called her name, hoping that she’d find her way back to the Impala before the rain would drench her clothes, but she didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t leave the sky once, feeling a strange sense of safety, with the summer rain resting on her shoulders and head, with the roar of thunder breaking through the afternoon. For months they’ve travelled from one town to another, hunting supernatural creatures without getting a day or two to breathe. This right here is what her heart had been aching for. 

“Didn’t you hear me? Come, before you get sick.” Dean’s growling voice forced her to turn towards him, watching the hunter with an almost stoic expression. For a few seconds all (y/n) did was stare at him, studying his handsome features, a face she’d curse at any given chance, not wanting to give into the pull she felt deep inside her chest. Only now did she seem to realise how tired Dean looked, exhausted just like she was, graced by the past months. “Alright, then stay here and get sick, see if I care.”

He turned from her, frozen in his step as she whispered his name. Slowly he turned back towards (y/n), watching her with raised eyebrows. “Let’s go for a swim. We haven’t been near the ocean for months, I don’t want to miss out on this chance.”

(Y/n) had started undressing before Dean could reply, wide eyes following the quick movements of her fingers. Even though his mind screamed at Dean to turn away, to find shelter inside his car, his hands started moving, pulling his shirt off his head. With only her underwear on, (y/n) moved towards the ocean, gasping in surprise as she felt his hand finding her wrist, pulling her further towards the rising waves. 

Both didn’t seem to care about the danger laying ahead, bodies lured into the ocean with aching lungs and trembling limbs. The cold water engulfed them, wrapping itself around them like a second layer of skin. Neither of them dared to speak up, bodies not parting as Dean pulled (y/n) into his chest, arms tightly wrapped around her middle.

“What are you doing, Dean?” She whispered her words, eyes trapped by his piercing ones. Another roar of the strong thunder echoed through the air, followed by more drops falling from the sky. 

“Not missing out on any chances.” Before she could even begin to realise what Dean was talking about, he had pressed his lips against hers. Their lips moved in sync, drawing a soft moan from (y/n), arms slung around Dean’s neck. The kiss was soft, testing the waters as the waves kept clashing against their bodies. Only as their lungs begged them for more air to breathe did they part, eyes not daring to break contact once. A bolt of lightning danced across the black sky, finally forcing the two to leave the ocean, grabbing their wet clothes.

With their fingers interlaced they ran towards the shower placed near the Impala, washing off the sand sticking to their bodies. Not one word was spoken, caught in their racing thoughts, unsure what to make of the past moments, wondering where their confidence had come from, breaking through their old patterns. The kiss had felt all too right, as if their bodies had been aching for this to happen ever since they’ve crossed paths, pushing them into their anger to protect their hearts from ending up broken in half. 

“Here, this should work as a towel.” Dean pushed a clean shirt of his into (y/n)’s hand, helping her into the backseat before he rounded the car. With another shirt of his Dean also started drying his shivering body, not yet ready to break the silence. Both were sitting next to one another, just in their underwear, with their eyes focusing on anything but one another. (Y/n) was shuddering in the seat, hands moving up and down her arms in a desperate try to warm herself up as she watched the raindrops roll down the windows. 

The whisper of her name filled the car, eyes slowly moving towards Dean, meeting his eyes that were filled with pain, wordlessly begging her to give in, to stray from the hatred they’ve clung to. As if their bodies knew how to tear down their walls, they moved closer, tangling them in a mess of limbs and lips, kissing one another as Dean pushed her down on the seat, towering over her. Perhaps it was their try to warm one another up, forgetting about the cold lingering inside their bodies, but perhaps it was their lust they’ve tried to bury six feet under years ago, finally giving in. 

“Fuck, let me touch you, please.” Dean murmured his words against her slightly swollen lips, fingers dancing up her sides, toying with her bra. Wordlessly (y/n) nodded her head, unable to use her words with her tight throat and her dry mouth. She wasn’t used to feeling something this intense, wasn’t used to her body reacting like this to Dean’s touch, but fuck, she never wanted to let go of this feeling ever again. Her bra was tossed to the front of the Impala, long forgotten as Dean’s mouth found her chest, kissing every inch of her body, making sure to love on every part of her. “So beautiful, fuck, been wanting to touch you for years.” 

His words drew a moan from her lips, eyes fluttering close to focus on his touch, on the way he kissed his way down her stomach, pushing her panties down her legs. With trembling hands (y/n) pulled Dean back up towards her for another bruising kiss, gasping as his hardening cock rubbed against her dripping cunt, giving her just the right amount of friction. 

“Fuck me, Dean, need you inside of me.” Her voice trembled, struggling to form any words as Dean kept grinding his middle against hers, distracted by the heavenly feeling. With one last kiss pressed to her lips, he let go of her, reaching for his wallet to pull a condom free. She watched him free his cock, watched him roll down the condom before he aligned himself, eyes searching hers. He pushed into her slow at first, allowing them both to adjust, not used to their bodies meeting like this, moulding together.

With one hand placed next to her head Dean moved his other hand down her body, fingers finding her cunt, rubbing circles on her bundle of nerves, drawing sinful moans from her. (Y/n) was trembling beneath Dean, eyes struggling to stay open, drawn in by the intense sensation, clinging to the newfound mixture of emotions filling her veins. Her head was spinning, unsure what to focus on, on the groans leaving Dean whenever she clenched around him, on the way his eyes were filled with such an intense gaze, or the nearing orgasm he forced her closer towards. 

“Feels so good, shit, don’t stop.” (Y/n) kept blabbering away, gasping for air whenever his cock met her swollen spot, unsure how long she could keep holding on. Both were urged on by the tension that had grown over the past years, bodies begging them to touch one another, finally allowed to do so, thanks to the summer storm and the gas Baby was aching for trapping them here. Her fingernails left scratches down his arms, clinging to him, needing to feel every part of him close. 

“It’s okay, baby, let go, I got you.” Her moans filled the car as her orgasm clashed through her like the waves rolling ashore, a beautiful spectacle Dean couldn’t help but marvel at. He gave it a few more thrusts, letting go with a moan rumbling through him, trying not to collapse on top of her. 

“Fuck, whatever that was, we need to do it again.” Dean murmured the words against her neck, face buried in the crook of it, deeply inhaling her sweet scent, mixed with the salty water still somewhat clinging to her. Her body shook beneath him, soft laughs filling her as she combed her hand through his hair, still trying to catch her breath. 

Both would have enough to talk about, needing to figure out where to go from here, but for the next few moments, they’d just listen to the sound of the summer storm, to the waves roaring near, and to the singing of their racing hearts.

[jjtheresidentbaby]

˚. ❝₊˚ 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 ❞ ˚₊·

» spn agere week: day 4, little one is sick, angel to the rescue - feb 1st

» for @spnagereweek event || on my ao3 | 700+ wrd count

» little!sam & caregiver!gabriel & caregiver!dean

» warnings: talk of sickness, nothing graphic, pet names

“Hey thanks for coming Gabriel.” Dean greets as the angel steps into the bunker, hands fidgeting with his shirt hem discreetly. He’s nervous, he’ll admit it, Gabriel’s nervous to be doing this. He knows he’s more than capable of healing whatever illness Sam has come down with but he’s never seen the hunter regressed, and he doesn’t have much experience with kids.

“I don’t know what’s wrong but I’ve tried all the cough medicine and Tylenol and a normal doctor but I just- I can’t stand seeing him so sick anymore.” There’s a tiredness to Dean’s voice that makes Gabriel’s face fall. Most times he’s interacted with Dean it’s been snarky comments and stern orders, Gabriel almost gets the urge to reach out and put his hand on Deans shoulder, see if he can take some pain or maybe help him feel better. Even if he isn’t the one that’s sick.

“Little angle magic will fix him up.” A small smile gets sent Gabriel’s way before Dean’s opening the door to Sam’s bedroom, letting Gabriel go in first.

The bedroom looks relatively normal, what Gabriel was expecting from Sam: books scattered around- though there’s more children’s ones than he thought there’d be-, his laptop plugged in on a desk covered in papers, barely any real decor because Winchesters seriously lack taste, a picture of Sam, Dean and Castiel hung up on the wall. All of it checks out. Or, almost, because there’s a mountain of stuffed animals on Sam’s bed, which he’s hiding under, and a trash can piled high with tissues that makes Gabriel cringe. Poor kid’s been sick for some time.

“Hey Sammy, Gabriel’s here to see you…” Dean reaches into the stuffed animal pile to assumingely rub a hand at Sam’s back, he gets a grunt as a response.

“Okay ouch. C’mon kid you should be excited to see me, hello I’m a walking candy dispenser.” Gabriel walks farther into the room and throws his usual charm onto his words, it seems to work as Sam’s head pops up between a plush bunny and tiger.

“What kinda candy?” Sam’s voice comes out raspy yet still sweet and innocent, it makes a smile spread over Gabriel’s face in an instant.

“What kind do you want?” He moves closer to the bed and Dean seems to understand what he’s doing as he steps back and crosses his arms to observe.

“Strawberry.” There’s a lisp when Sam talks and he reaches to rub his nose against his, thankfully sleeve covered, arm. Gabriel almost shudders, kids are gross, but it’d probably offend Sam a bit and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Strawberry coming up.” There’s suddenly a plethora of strawberry candies in Gabriel’s hand: lollipops, those hard candies every old lady has, gummies, strawberry flavored marshmallows. Unsurprisingly Sam’s eyes light up and he quickly crawls out of his stuffed animal mountain to get closer to where Gabriel’s standing by the end of the bed.

“Which one Moose?” Apparently the strawberry marshmallow was the right thing for Gabriel to conjure up as Sam takes it without hesitation.

“Dean said you didn’t feel good, you think you can let me take a look?” Sam nods mindlessly, holding the big marshmallow in both his hands like a mouse, nibbling on it which is also very mouse like but Gabriel assumes it’s to savor it.

He takes the moment to brush Sam’s hair back, his forehead is sweat covered and hot to the touch. The longer Gabriel presses his hands on Sam the more concerned he gets, his throat feels a little swollen, all his skin is far too hot, sweat beading down the back of his neck, and he’s sweat through his shirt. Gabriel honestly doesn’t know what’s wrong as the symptoms seem like something that human medicine should be able to heal. It doesn’t really matter though- he holds his hand in Sam’s hair so his palm can rest on his forehead and takes whatever sickness it is away.

“Nose isn’t stuffy no more.” A grin breaks on Gabriel’s lips, he finds the way Sam is staring up at him with big doe eyes and his mouth slightly open in shock, absolutely adorable.

“You should be all better kiddo.” Sam’s eyes suddenly fall to the halfway eaten marshmallow in his hands, his jaw dropping farther open as if the marshmallow was the thing that healed him. Gabriel knows this is the first time he’s seeing Sam regressed but he seriously loves him already.

“De’ Gabe gave me magic marshmallow!” The two caregivers share a laugh over Sam’s excitement and Dean comes over to ruffle Sam’s still sweat soaked hair.

[jerzwriter]

It's their fourth third Valentine's Day together, and it looks a little different than the rest. Still, all is going well until Tobias drops a little bombshell.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Words: 1,500 Rating: Teen A/N: @choicesholidays Valentine's Day @choicesfebruary2024 Eros/Philia/Storge/Pragma

Darkness had already settled over the City of Boston, but the Carrick family’s kitchen was still full of life. Casey was tableside, desperately trying to convince Samantha to finish her dinner, while Tobias finished off the dishes from their meal that ended a half-hour before. In the midst of it, Pietro chased a ball around the kitchen floor, repeatedly skidding into a wall. Tobias shook his head with a chuckle.

“You know I’m going to have to pad the wall, or Pietro’s going to end up with brain damage.”

He peered over his shoulder when Casey didn’t reply, only to find her twirling around the kitchen, to their daughter's delight.   While Sammy happily babbled and clapped, the one thing she wasn’t doing was eating.

“Babe...” he said, bringing Casey's chaotic dancing to a halt.

“Uh.. yeah,” she stammered, slipping on her socked feet. “What did you say?”

“I said I need to pad the wall so Pietro doesn't keep slamming into it. But I think it might help you, too. What are you trying to do over there?”

“I’m trying to get our daughter to eat,” she sighed. “Bedtime’s in a half hour, and you know she won’t sleep long if she’s hungry.”

“True, and heaven knows we don't want any interruption tonight... but how is that Irish jig supposed to make her eat?”

Casey’s eyes met his, narrowing with both amusement and scorn. “It wasn’t an Irish jig! I was attempting to dance like Angelina Ballerina... I thought if I pirouetted these peas into her mouth, she just might take them.”

Tobias wordlessly turned off the faucet and dried his hands with a half smile. Walking over to the table, he took the spoon from Casey’s hand.

“Let me help.”

“I don’t know what you can do. It's been 30 minutes, and she hasn't eaten a thing. You're not going to..."

Casey’s jaw hung open as her husband began serenading their daughter, and the moment he started, she gleefully accepted her bits of chicken and strained peas.

“I’ve got sunshine... on a cloudy day... when it’s cold outside... I’ve got the month of May...” he crooned as his wife stood flabbergasted at his side.

“But... I don’t... how?”

“I don’t know, baby... I just have the magic touch. Ooh! Maybe I should sing The Platter’s instead.”

“You do that,” she huffed. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

The thought of his beautiful wife stepping into their shower filled his head with less pure thoughts, and why not? It was Valentine’s Day, after all.   

“Nice,” he grinned. “Then, after I get this adorable little gremlin to sleep, Mommy and Daddy can celebrate grown-up style.”

With a chuckle, she stopped at the door. “Valentine’s Day sure is different in the parenting era... isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” he said, scooping the last bit of food off Sammy’s plate. “But it’s still amazing.”

“Of course it is,” Casey teased. “You’ve got me and Sammy... and she obviously likes you much more than me.”

“That’s not true,” he insisted. “And if it is, it means our daughter has horrible taste.”

“Well, she does like those peas,” Casey shrugged, then she was on her way.

~~~~~

Sometime later, Casey trotted down the stairs to find their rose bedecked living room looking like a scene from a movie. Awash in a soft, golden glow. Tobias had scattered meticulously selected candles all around; only Casey's absolute favorites would do. After lighting the last one, he turned his attention to her, eyes full of desire.

“You like?” He smiled as she sunk into the plush cushions of their sofa.

“What’s not to like,” she beamed. “Everything is beautiful! I sure am a lucky woman.”

With a gentle growl, he crossed the room and bridged the space between them, his hands sliding over the soft curves he so adored. Casey held him close, quietly giggling as he peppered her with kisses. The sound of her laughter, combined with the warm vanilla-jasmine scent that was hers and hers alone, left him lightheaded; Casey made the man drunker than wine ever could.

"What are you doing?" She laughed.

"What do you think? Any objections?"

"No, Dr. Carrick,” she swooned. “Not a single one."

He pulled back slightly with a smile, mesmerized as he ran a hand through her hair. "You know, you're the best wife I’ve ever had."

"Oh, really," she raised a brow. "I was under the assumption I was your only wife unless you have a whopper of a secret you need to divulge."

"Well, now that you mention it...I sort of do."

“You do?” she asked, eyes widened. “Do you have another wife... of a big secret?”

“Only the latter,” he chuckled deeply, his lips descending just under her ear. “But we can talk about that later.”

But later, it came much quicker than he had expected when Casey sat upright and turned on the lamp beside her.

“What are you doing?” he gasped.

“Tobias, you may be married to one of the most incredible women in Boston, but I’m still a woman... and there is no woman on earth that’s just going to carry on like nothing has happened after her husband announces he has a big secret. So... if you want to get back to our previously scheduled activities... I suggest you spill... and spill fast.”

“Case,” he whispered, the seductively playful gaze that usually got him out of anything firmly in place. “I’m just teasing. Now, why don’t we....”

“... have a conversation about this secret, Dr. Carrick.” She crossed her arms defiantly. “What happened to you? You used to be so smooth.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I’m off my game.”

“Sleep deprivation will do that,” she smirked. “Now... your secret?”

Tobias shifted uncomfortably, finally settling, he took Casey’s hand in his.

“It’s not a secret, really. It's just something I’ve wanted to discuss.”

Her eyes silently urged him to continue.

“I just... I’ve been thinking. I’d really like us to have another baby.”

Casey sighed with relief. “Well, duh! That’s not a secret, Tobias! You’ve made it very clear you’d like enough children to start your own softball team.  And while you’re not getting that many out of me, we’ve always said we’d have more someday.”

“Yeah,” he turned to her with puppy dog eyes. “What if that someday were, say... now.”

Casey pulled away. “Now? Now, as in... you want to try... now?”

“Why not,” she asked, scooting closer to her. "It would be a great story to tell our kid... you were conceived on Valentine’s Day.”

“Iww. First, no... no kid wants to hear that... and you mean, now?”

“Yeah. I mean, think about it.  Even if we got lucky right away, we’d have to wait nine months for her to get here...”

“Wow, you know that? Looks like that Hopkins Med School degree really paid off...”

"Very funny," he smirked. "What I'm saying is we'd be looking at the end of the year. Sammy would almost be two...”

“She’d be a year and a half...”

“True, but... wouldn’t it be nice if our girls were close in age.”

“Girls?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty confident I don't make boys.”

"Babe," Casey laughed. "Are you being serious?”

“Do you think I’d interrupt Valentine’s Day sex if I wasn’t?”

“I don’t know,” she wondered. “It’s unlike you to interrupt any sex, so I guess you are serious.”

“And I take it you're not in agreement."

“Tobias,” she sighed, gently caressing his cheek. "You know I want to have another baby, but... now?"

“Sure... I mean it... I don't want the girls far apart in age. My brother and I had such a big age difference, and I'm not sure I want that for them. Besides, it’s not like money is an issue, and...”

Casey could tell there was more, so she gently pushed him along. “And?”

“And I’m going to be forty in five days.”

“Are you saying your bio clock is ticking.?”

“Wiseass," he grinned. "So, you're not on board."

“I’m... not... not right now. Sammy isn’t even a year old yet, and while I love being her mom and parenting with you... it’s not easy, Tobias. We’re both exhausted most of the time.”

“So, we can get more help. I’ll even let Ma come over more often.”

“Oh great! So then I can institutionalize you and have to raise two kids on my own? No, thank you.”

Taking in his small frown, Casey pulled him into a hug, gently kissing the top of his head as she caressed him.

“I know you’re going to be forty, but I’m only thirty-one... and if we’re honest, Sammy was a surprise. A wonderful surprise, but a surprise nevertheless.  I figured we were a couple years away from considering having our first, and I’m not so sure I’m ready to be the mom of two just yet.”

“Yeah, and it would really be the mom of three if you count me.”

“Hey," she said, raising her hands. "You said it, not me! I’m not saying we have to wait forever... Sammy turns one in April, why don’t we revisit this conversation at the end of summer... and not right before we’re about to get busy.”

With an impish grin, he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

“Scheduling our conversation for Labor Day weekend... that's kind of appropriate if you think about it.”

Casey gently shoved him, falling back onto his lap in a fit of laughter. "You are too much.”

"I am, aren't I?" He smiled, leaning over to give her a soft kiss.

"OK. So we're not making a baby tonight... but we can still get in some practice?" Animatedly wagging his brows.

"Sure," Casey laughed. "I'm always down to practice... where would you like me?"

Tobias bit his lower lip and eagerly flipped on top of her.

"Right here... I'm not waiting. Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

"Happy Valentine's Day," she replied. "But no baby yet, sir!"

~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed the silliness. I figured this is where they'd be in their relationship right now. Thanks so much for reading!

[hello-there-world]

dunno if that ask i was writing got sent or not, but here we go again:

since you like my Fnaf Rewrite, here are some Fun Facts about the Aftons and Emilys!

to start, the Afton Family:

so, i've heard the debate. "was William a good dad or did he fucking suck?" well...i've come up with a middle ground that i haven't seen people explore: William Does Genuinely Care For His Kids...But In An Unhealthy And Abusive Way.

like, i explain it one of two ways: imagine Mother Gothel from Tangled, but tone her down several notches, and if she had "good" intentions with protecting Rapunzel (of course, we've all heard the saying: The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions). the other way i'd explain it is by saying William Is A Toxic And Abusive Helicopter Parent.

he doesn't hit his kids. he doesn't yell at them. it's more emotional abuse and manipulation. like, most examples of emotional abuse with parents that i've found when looking it up have things like yelling and ignoring the kid, but uh. I Think Convincing (or trying to convince) Your Kid That Disobeying Your Orders Will Have Severe Negative Consequences, Such As An Injury Or Dying, As Well As Being Condescending About Your Children's Negative Emotions About All Of This ("you'll understand/thank me when you're older", for example), Still Counts!

William has five children! Alexander (who is "foxybro," so to speak), Michael, Evan (middle child, not the Crying Child), Elizabeth, and Cassidy (Crying Child).

Mrs. Afton (Claire) died over a day after giving birth to Cassidy :(

William is terrified of losing his children, which is why he's Like That (not an excuse, obviously).

why isn't Michael foxybro? listen, i want happy Mike and CC interactions...which is difficult to do with canon.

Michael and Cassidy have the unfortunate combination of anxiety and autism, which. Isn't Great To Have In This Household.

the Fredbear Plush was a gift from Charlie :] technically from Henry, but Charlie’s the one who gave it to Cass :]

Not A Single Person In This Family Is Neurotypical

Alex is actually the Fnaf 1-2 phone guy!

while Cassidy is a pretty quiet and anxious kid, That Doesn't Mean He Doesn't Have Some Bottled Up Anger. That Kid Is RESENTFUL.

Michael, Charlie, and Sammy were born a few months apart.

Alex doesn't really hate Cassidy, but, in his mind, Cassidy’s birth was what caused their mother's death, so in a sense, he thinks that everything that's happened is Cassidy’s fault to an extent. the problem is that his siblings heavily disagree with this and it doesn't help their dislike of him (because he's a jerk).

Mike is trans!!

Elizabeth is the only child who isn't (outwardly) traumatized. that isn't to say that the abuse hasn't screwed her up...it just means that no one's noticed that she's screwed up too, yet.

William has some bunny features!! his hair has some strands on top that look like bunny ears and bunny teeth (which Are a thing people can have. i'm just not able to draw them too accurately, so they look like Actual rabbit teeth). the only two kids that inherited those traits were Mike and Liz.

William would get very pissed if you so much as Imply he's hurting his kids with what he's doing. in his eyes, he's only doing what he's doing out of love, so could it really be that bad? (it is. it Very Much is)

and now, The Emily Family!

Henry’s a good dad in the Rewrite. both to contrast William and Because I Want To.

Henry’s ex-wife, Annabeth, and him got divorced because she discovered that she was a lesbian, and Henry didn't want her to stay in a relationship where she wasn't Happy. this isn't to say that don't care for each other, they just don't really love each other Romantically.

Charlie and Sammy are biracial!! Henry is white and Anna is black :]

y'know Charlie’s toy rabbit in the books, Theodore? fun fact! in the Rewrite, he was a toy shared by her and Sammy! (although Sammy was the one who played with him the most) he was actually the improved version of one of Henry’s own childhood toys: he actually calls it "Theodore 2.0"

both of the kids take after Henry's personality in some way: Charlie has Henry’s general temperament (calm and mature usually, but if they're Really pissed/stressed, You Will Know), whereas Sammy is socially awkward and quiet, typically preferring to keep to himself and work on his projects. both of them share Henry’s interest in robotics, though.

Charlie and Sammy dealt with...a Slight bullying problem, but were both generally well-liked. (< foreshadowing)

while Charlie is more associated with greens (especially bright green), stars, and stripes, Sammy is more associated with oranges and browns, fire/burning/the sun, and plaid.

Charlie is older than Sammy by seven minutes.

and two extra things!

1) the Emily and Afton kids viewed each other as siblings, pretty much.

2) there are only two murders William has any sort of real regret for (even if it isn't much): Charlie's and Cassidy’s :)

Oh! This is so cool! I think the way you're doing William is great, too, especially since there is this weird middle ground in some stuff of "William does seem to have genuine care for his kids, but also, who would send their kid to a place like Sister Location knowing it might kill them?"

Love the stuff with the relationship between the Afton and Emily families a lot, too!

[queenofcats17]

17 forrrrr sammy x wally?

Oh, I think I have the perfect idea for this~

17. …to distract.

.

Of all the people Sammy had to be stuck in this godforsaken inky hellhole with it just had to be Wally Franks, didn't it?

Contrary to popular belief, Sammy didn't hate Wally, even if he did find the janitor incredibly frustrating at times. While the studio had been running, Wally's presence had been a relatively familiar and comforting one. However, in this new and strange inky world, loud was the last thing you wanted to be. And loud was exactly what Wally was. Sammy had lost count of how many times he'd had to shush the former janitor to keep him from giving away their position to any enemy.

Currently, the two of them were scavenging for supplies in the Heavenly Toys area, which meant Sammy was especially on edge for fear the Ink Demon might suddenly appear. Not to mention they were venturing awfully close to "Alice's" territory, and Sammy knew she would jump at the chance to get her hands on the hearts of two almost perfect looking toons.

"You gotta relax, Sammy!" Wally said as he dug through the piles of plushes, searching for some bacon soup cans. "You're gonna give yourself a heart attack worrying so much!" He paused, frowning slightly. "Can toons even get heart attacks?"

"I would rather not find out," Sammy replied, glancing over his shoulder back at the doorway. "And I worry exactly the right amount for the situation! Our lives are at stake, Wally!"

Wally let out a small sigh. "Alright, yeah, you're right, but you gotta let yourself live a little too! You can't just run on survival forever!"

"I would much rather allow myself to live a little in the safety of the safe house," Sammy grumbled, folding his arms.

"Come ooon!" Wally held up a Boris plush. "Don't you wanna hug one? Just one?"

Sammy paused, scrutinizing the plush. He had been about to say no outright, but it would be nice to hug something something... Did he really want to hug Boris though? But then again, both Bendy and Alice now conjured up bad memories. Boris was the only character who was, for the most part, untainted in his mind. Boris just reminded him of Wally now.

He was wrenched from this thought process, though, by a horrifyingly familiar sound.

The sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Sammy's head immediately snapped in the direction of the doorway where he could see the familiar ink veins creeping closer. Oh God... There were no Miracle Stations nearby. Nowhere for them to hide. Nowhere except one of the back aisles.

He immediately grabbed Wally by his overalls, hauling him into the back aisle, far back enough that the Ink Demon wouldn't see them if he entered the room.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" Wally demanded. "Don't go manhandling me like that!"

"Wally, I need you to shut up," Sammy hissed as the heartbeat sound grew louder.

"Wha-? Why?"

Couldn't Wally hear that sound?!

"Wally, please, I need you to just be quiet," Sammy begged.

The ink veins were creeping into the room. They were almost out of time.

"Is something comin' or someth-" Wally was cut off as Sammy pressed him against the wall and slammed their lips together, silencing the former janitor.

For a moment, Wally was stunned, too surprised to even move. Then, he leaned into it, wrapping his arms around Sammy.

Sammy didn't pull away until the pounding of the heartbeat in his ears was gone, and he could no longer see the ink veins on the walls.

"I'm...sorry about that," he said, a bit out of breath as he removed himself from Wally.

"Why're you sorry?" Wally asked. "That was great!" His tail was wagging more vigorously than Sammy had ever seen it wag before.

Sammy blinked, then sighed. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it at least. I was sure we were going to die there."

"I can think of worse ways to go out," Wally said with a grin.

Sammy rolled his eyes with exasperated fondness. "Let's head back to the house, alright? I think that's enough scavenging for the day."

"Can I get another kiss when we get back?" Wally stumbled a bit following Sammy out of the toy room.

"Only if you ask nicely," Sammy replied. "And if you don't cause any more trouble on the way back."

Wally's grin widened. "I can do that!"

"I would certainly hope so."

At the very least, Sammy now knew he had a guaranteed way to make Wally shut up when they were in danger.

...And he didn't mind doing it either.

[ofthecaravel]

I know this is kinda messy but uhhhh hope it’s a decent contribution.

Oh and fair warning to everyone, it’s smutty

Also fun idea cause I noticed this after rereading it: take a shot every time Danni calls Sammi baby

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

Sammi was sprawled out on her back in bed trying to keep her hands above her waist. She didn’t work today so she had spent the time in their apartment getting ready for when Danni returned from her shift as a bar tender, and she should be home any minute.

As soon as she heard foot steps approach their bedroom she got excited. She’d spent the entire day desperate for Danni’s touch, just some form of release.

Danni entered, expecting her princess to be asleep considering how quiet the place was at 10 at night. However, the sight in front of her instantly made her face beet red. Sammi had her legs bent and spread on the plush sheets with her small breasts on full display. She instantly recognized the rosy lace panties she’d given Sammi for her birthday a few months back. She also didn’t miss the small dark spot that had grown on them as she approached her girl.

“How was work babe?” Sammi asked sweetly as she sat up to be face to face with the curly brunette.

“Was fine..” She answered back, clearly distracted. “Didn’t have to break up any fights tonight.” She finished with a lick of her lips as she crawled in front of Sammi, eyes still fixed on her lower half. Danni was wearing a thick white tank top and loose black jeans that were rolled at her ankles. “What do we have here hon?” She asked, finally looking up to make eye contact with the bassist she was kneeling in front of.

“I need you Danni.” she replied while leaning forward with a pout, doe eyes piercing their target.

Next thing she knew, her hand had trailed down to trace between her thighs. Her fingers inched closer towards the center until they finally reached her sweet spot.

Next thing she knew, her hand had trailed down to trace between her thighs. Her fingers inched closer towards the center until they finally reached her sweet spot.

Feeling just how soaked Sammi had gotten, Danni took it upon herself to duck down and lick a stripe against the panties, causing Sammi to let out a small, sweet gasp, tilting her head back against the headboard.

Not being able to take the wait, Danni gently, and oh so slowly began to slip the ruined fabric off of Sammi’s legs. A smile grew on the smaller girl’s face as she knew she’d finally be taken care of properly.

“What do you want sweetheart?” Danny inquired from down below while lightly ghosting her hands underneath Sammi’s thighs.

“I want you to have total control. I don’t wanna be aloud to come til you say I can.” She concluded with a “Can you do that for me?”, breath a tad shaky.

Danni just looked at her with admiration and with a low voice told her “Anything forever.”

The taller girl proceeded to kiss and suck at Sammi’s clit, sending shocks through her body. With every sigh and moan that Sammi emitted, Danni could feel the pull in her own stomach increase with desperation.

“Honey, you’re soaking wet” Danny declared, quite impressed honestly.

“Haven’t touched myself in like a week”. Sammi admitted, eyes still shut,head tilted back.

“why not baby?” Danni questioned.

“.. Saving myself for you” Sammi answered shyly, opening her eyes and looking down at her hands.

Danni gets back up on her knees and tilts Sammi’s chin up with care to capture her glossed mouth in a soft kiss. “Y know that’s gonna make it harder to keep yourself from coming right?”

Sam narrowed her eyes playfully. “S’part of the fun right?”

Now Danni was really ready to get things going. But she had an idea first.

“Hold on one sec.” She scuffled off the bed and made her way to the record player in the corner. Pulling out a particular sleeve from a nearby shelf, she gently slides the record out and placed it on the player. After flipping a switch and dropping the needle, She made her way back over to Sammi. Since I’ve Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin starts to play in the background.

Danni takes a seat at the edge of the bed but doesn’t crawl in. “On my lap baby.”

Sammi immediately obeys. She typically does. And besides she was far to needy right now to act bratty.

Before she positions herself on the drummer’s lap, Danni spreads her own legs and pats the thigh of her right one. This signals to Sam that she’s in for a ride.. quite literally.

After securing herself on the clothed thigh, Sammi was met with a thumb pad to her mouth and gratefully took it in. She accidentally bites a little to hard.

“Ah” Danny hissed “careful baby”

“Mm sorry” Sammi apologized

“That’s alright honey, I bet it just feels too good doesn’t it” Danni reassured, lowering her voice a bit.

“Mmm hmm!” Sammi hummed, taking the thumb back into her mouth. She began to ride like her life depended on it.

————

After about 20 nonstop minutes of kissing, hair tugging, and Sammi humping Danni’s now soaked thigh, Danni decides to pay some attention somewhere else. She leans down and takes one of Sammi’s nipples in her mouth, needily attending to the bud.

This just about sent Sam over the edge.

“I can’t fucking hold it anymore dan dan” Sammi declared with her arms resting on Danni’s shoulders.

“Don’t say that princess, i know you can wait a little longer” Danni insisted “it’ll feel so good once I let you come, and you know you deserve to feel good”

Sammi moaned low and needy at that. She wanted to feel good! And she wanted to be good for her girlfriend.

“Say it for me sweet girl, say you deserve to feel good”

“UNHH” Sammy let out, head falling back slightly and pace increasing on the drummers thigh. “I-”she interrupted herself with a sharp gasp when Danni started rubbing at her exposed clit. “I WANNA FEEL GOOD, I DESERVE TO FEEL GOOD! PLEASE MAKE ME FEEL SO SO GOOD!” At that point she begun babbling and Danni decided she had earned it.

“That’s it babygirl, come for me. You’ve worked for it”

Sammy immediately sped up against the denim as she releases the tension in her body and finally allowed herself to claim her pleasure. She slumps against Danni who begins to quietly coo in the subs ear while raking her fingers in her hair.

“You did so good darling.” Danni praised, making Sammi feel all fuzzy inside.

“Wanna hop in the shower?” Danni asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes please.” Sammi now shot up. She wasn’t sure whether to prepare for a round two, or a surprise hair wash from Danni. If she’s lucky maybe both..

anon........just thank you

[koalasandcats]

CC's Weekend Bash Day 3:

For some reason was having trouble writing this one, but was able to pick it up to submit it on time! I don't see this as canon in the games yet I had fun writing it

Prompt: Betrayal

TW: Child Murder (Had to include it someday), Emotional Abuse, Blood, Knife...{Feel free to tell me if I missed some!}

(Yeah this one is darker than the ones I've made before. I wanted to try out writing murder for funsies! )

@and-stir-the-stars

(

Betrayal

Evan Afton looked out the window as big, fat raindrops poured down. He was strapped tightly in his car seat as he clutched fredbear in his arms. The stench of whiskey filled the car from his father making Evan’s nose wrinkle.

“How was Charlotte’s birthday Evan?” William pressed looking up from behind the wheel for a minute glancing at his youngest son. Evan’s father’s eyes seemed inquisitive, as if genuinely curious. 

“It was okay…” Evan started confused on his father’s sudden curiosity on the party. William hated birthday parties only seeing them as ‘good business’. Evan and his siblings had never been allowed to attend one before today, but he guessed Charlie and Sammy’s birthday was special. “Charlie was going taking out the trash though, I wish I got to say goodbye.”  Evan finished

Evan paused as they drove up the  dark, damp alley to the back of Fredbear’s diner, clutching his plush closer. Mikey and his friends had locked him out the back like this before, and he never wanted to come back here again

“I thought we were going-”

“Quiet, I have business to do.” William snapped, opening the door carrying something with him. Evan pressed his nose against the car’s glass watching his father go to the back door. 

Charlie Emily was there, dressed in her green party dress drenched in the rain. Fresh  tears fell from her face as she glanced up in hope.

“Uncle Will!” She cheered as Evan let out a sigh of relief. His father was just going to help Charlie out. Evan unbuckled his seatbelt opening the door to wave out to Charlie. 

His father blocked his view of friend though, pulling a thin, sharp blade out of his pocket, like the ones he used to cut vegetables.

Evan closed his eyes, terrified from the piercing scream that followed. The scream reminded him of the slasher movies Mikey loved watching when he thought no one was watching. Or the screams of other kids being spooked on Halloween. Except this one felt more authentic, and more fleshed out. 

The next few moments for Evan were a blur of red and white. His friend’s green dress turned crimson in the rain, and the blade grew slicker with red. His father’s shirt was stained, like in the early days of Freddy’s when he and Henry made the pizza by hand. 

His friend’s glossy eyes looked over at him, as if pleading for his help. Crimson liquid dripped out of a part of Charlie’s dress, the same dress she was dancing in just an hour ago. Evan froze feeling bile rise up into his throat. 

“Charlie?” He whispered to the wind. 

William turned to look at his son, trudging back to the car with bloodied hands. Evan paused at the car door, looking at Charlotte Emily. 

“Get back in.” William snapped at his son, pointing a reddened finger at him. Evan felt his heart sink as he climbed back into his seat buckling in. He stared at his father with wide gaping eyes, hearing his heart pound in his ears. William entered the driver’s seat putting a hand through his hair before turning back to Evan.

“You will tell nobody. You hear me!?! You’re just as bad as me. You watched her die, you didn’t even try to help.” William snickered, clutching onto the wheel before pressing down on the pedal.

“If you tell anybody, they’ll blame you as well. The baby who sat and watched,” William continued. Evan felt hot tears stream down his face as he held Fredbear tighter.

“Okay…” He mumbled back. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll be good,” He stuttered. William only glanced back from the wheel. 

“Good Evan. I’m glad we’re on the same foot.” William replied coldly driving through the whipping rain. Evan felt a heavy feeling rest in his gut. His friend was dead, and all he did was help. 

A twinge of guilt filled Evan’s mind as a dark understanding filled his body. He betrayed her, and was no better than his own father.

[rainbowspinch]

Things my partner and I have said about CTC characters, an ongoing draft

“Bill Danton is baby girl”

“Norman would love Disney Princesses”

“Jacob probably does many forms of art that most wouldn’t associate with him. Like he could design a house really well but people would go ‘that’s not a Jacob thing’”

“Jacob does sculpting. His housewarming gift to Norman when he moved next door was a middle finger statue.”

“When Norman went into his new house for the first time, he found all the statues Jacob had been storing in there of himself.”

“Tom’s got a touch of the ‘tism. Another one for the pit.”

“They’ve all got autism. In our world, autism is the default and you have to prove you’re allistic.”

“I like that he is a little fucked up.” (About the Ink Demon)

“Jane has slight shaken baby(adult?) syndrome. Bill shakes her with passion”

“It’s the discord kitten in him.” (About Bill Danton)

“I LOVE HOW MAN HE IS” (about someone else’s interpretation of Sammy)

“Certified boy holder” (about someone else’s interpretation of Sammy)

“The babies. He is So Ugly<3” (about the Tom plush)

“Allison would be a crystal girl in modern days. Susie would be one of the ones with a super complex skin-care routine”

“Do you think big Bendy accepts Sammy’s weird behaviour because he gives good tummy scratches”

“Susie would hate mullets. A lot of them would. Not Jacob.”

“Norman would fucking love the song Piano Man. He would sing that shit with heart.”

“Do you think Abby helped Richie through dealing with Dave’s death?”

“Sammy+Susie: the mean girls

Jack: the cat kid”

“Norman finally exercising his ice cream rights” (about a video of a man on a game show eating an entire pint of ice cream and then feeling sick afterwards)

“High school mean girls Susie and Sammy definitely practiced kissing together”

“Me: where would Jacob be from?

Rat: Ohio probably. Look at him”

“Me: Sammy. Is he British?

Rat: yes. He tries not to be”

“I literally spent $50 on this shirt because I looked at it and went “OOooOu Norman!””

“No arguments, Nice is a people pleaser. She wants to be Alice’s best pal ever, even if that means she has to commit to atrocious crimes” (about Malice Angel’s two different voices)

“Norman goes to a thrift shop and goes “ooooo for me”. Jacob goes to a thirft shop and goes “ooooo for Norman”. Strange gay things for a strange gay man”

“Got shoved in a locker for being a nerd” (about Grant)

“I can’t explain how, but the way you’re typing is Tom like” (about me calling crabs Big Boys, Tiny Boys, and then struggling to spell anemone, followed by “how the fuck do I spell this shit”)

“He loves almonds. Nut boy. Nut boy.” (About Norman)

“Kismesis. Mmm. Regret regret regret regret” (me regretting referring to something Homestuck related while talking about Prophet Sammy and Malice)

“Do u think Tom Boris cleans people. Like lick lick.”

“What’s more powerful then being nothing AND A WOMAN AT THE SAME TIME” (conceptualising nonbinary transfem Bertie)

“He looks like a Mangle” (about Bendy-Bot)

“Old Men that make Unexpectedly Nice Poetry” (about Henry and Norman)

“Bertie: You want meeee to come put of retirement to work on your silly little project? Do I get anything out if it?

Joey: I can give you a kiss-?

Bertie: *unimpressed*

Joey: I could get on my hands and knees and start crying

Bertie: that’d be a start” (Rat’s genius)

“His boyfriends wedding, he deserves that cake” (about Wally eating Tom and Allison’s wedding cake)

“Tom wouldn’t say blimey. ..I lie. I’m sorry.”

“Sammy Lawrence is Michael Bublé”

“Pfft- love his handbag” (about a picture of Sammy holding a light from BATDS)

“Richie has discord server mod vibes”

“Rosalia is not a discord kitten. She’s the actual mod, Richie just talks too much”

“Norman is a discord kitty for many many people to turn a profit”

“And Bill and Jane look like they eat humans and get away with it. But In a Endearing tumblr sexy man Sammy way”

“What the fuck is her” (about Slicer)

“Jack is catish”

“You know he’s ready to grab things and “what if you went in my mouth”” (about Ink Demon)

“Grant is autism.

He verbally stims (tick tick tick)

He enjoys math

Canonically He can’t understand when people don’t do things for money which I assume our Grant doesn’t get it either

Bad social skills

Resting bitch face

I say so???? So??? You can’t say I’m wrong???”

“I bet he’s never heard of a social cue in his life” (about Grant)

“Grant’s ‘Strange Money’ tape. He sounds like a self conscious southern 20-something year old that really doesn’t want to be southern. He sounds divorced. He sounds like his ex-wife is a lesbian.”

““Simmons I left something in the Hell Dimension can you get it for me” that’s on brand” (about Joey)

“Henry come on, respect your parents” (about Henry telling Abby to ‘get a better name’)

“Do you think their whole group has a thing for photos, Joey’s photo book, Carol hangs some up and Simmons just has them stuffed into random places, cup holder, under the seats, in his pillow, with the spoons”

“The moment you’re in Simmons’ house you’re walking on eggshells. There could be a jumpscare anywhere”

“Joey - a list of ways he handles the studio, to emphasise that he’s trying his best

Carol - a list of ways she handles being a secretary and a front desk lady, to emphasise that she’s good at her job

Simmons - what the fuck? What is he even doing here?”

“He/him (in the gay way)” (about Simmons)

“She’s actually 12 sea mines in a turtleneck sweater” (about Susie)

“Bald Sammy Lawrence and Skin Eyes Jacob”

“Fuck you [romantic]” (about Joey’s letter to Henry)

“Sammy keeping inky handprints from PJ on his overalls” (based on a picture of a cat leaving wet paw prints on a boot and calling it a little accessory)

“Enemies to lovers [obliviously]” (about Sammy and Susie)

“Do you think even as teenage mean girls beefing it out, Sammy and Susie were still crushing on each other”

“No idea who Eugene is but fuck Chef Buck”

“He is Brazilian I’ve decided, and Sally will be Greek” (about Andre and Sally Newt, when I was designing them)

“Rat: why does 30 years make my eyes green?

Me: Tism does that

Rat: Norman, Norman, Norman, Norman, Norman, Norman-“

“Bill is what happens when you forget about a middle child”

Edit: “Jacob and Norman definitely do drugs. Anything they can grow, they will take.”

“[scary[hot]]” (about Malice)