#and i think knuckles was either completely missing the crescent mark on his chest or it was just really blurry and hard to see

[sonknuxadow]

ive seen some people say that movie shadow isnt gonna have any red stripes on his arms and legs because he didnt in that picture that was going around but like im pretty sure thats his stand in prop not an actual finished picture of how hes gonna look in the movie. and the stand in props usually look a little bit off from their final appearance anyway like theyre missing a couple details or something is the wrong color. i mean i guess its possible he wont have all his usual markings but my point is i dont think that picture is an exact representation of what hes gonna look like so im not making any assumptions

[serpentinesarang]

the rest is a secret

pairing: hyunjin (hwang hyunjin) x fem reader

genre: relationship!au, detailed smut

word count: 1983

content warnings: first-time sex (virginity can be implied if desired), unprotected sex (reader on contraception), mild swearing, lil bit of dom-y hyunjin

summary: it’s been three months with your boyfriend hyunjin, and he’s been patiently waiting to spice things up. when he accidentally encounters post-shower reader, he seizes the opportunity to do so.

a/n: requested by anon. thanks for your patience :)

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

I can’t believe he’s taking me somewhere special for dinner tonight! you squeal in your mind, wrapping up a hot shower. You wring out the remaining soap from your loofah before turning off the water and drying off.

You think back to the text from Hyunjin you’d woken up to: Dress up for dinner tonight... the rest is a secret. Have a good day, baby. Sighing with delight, you wrap your hair up and go about your body lotion routine, making sure to use the one Hyunjin had gifted you on your two-month anniversary. Might as well go all out... you think.

Just as you’re reaching for your face products, you hear a sharp knock at the door. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and you’ve got nothing on the agenda besides dinner with Hyunjin, so who the hell is trying to bother you?

With an exasperated huff, you throw on the thin robe hanging off the bathroom door and step into the hallway, but your heart nearly drops to your intestines as you hear the electronic beeping of your front door passcode being punched in. The keypad sings its little opening tune, and you’re too frozen with panic to process the door swinging open and showing none other than your sweet boyfriend.

Oblivious, Hyunjin closes the door behind him like business as usual then glances up and locks eyes with you across the way. His mouth falls ajar, his spine shifts up, and he stops himself from getting closer.

“Y-you gave me the code last week... Remember?” he asks in a soft, almost scared tone. 

You let out the breath you’d been holding this whole time, your hands uncontrollably flying up to fist your hair out of sheer relief. “Yes!” you reply breathlessly. “I just... forgot about it, I guess...”

Smiling, Hyunjin pads over, stopping a few feet before you. “You freaked me out with that look on your face, baby.”

You pause for a moment, still trying to piece together why his presence doesn’t quite feel right. What’s he doing here before dinner? He’d disappeared after that text anyway, so you’d figured he was just gonna spend the day working.

“I’m sorrrry,” you chuckle sheepishly, bouncing a heel against the floor. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for, like, another hour or two.”

Hyunjin takes your hands in his, thumbs stroking your knuckles. “This was part of my plan: surprise you before dinner.”

Oh. Shit. He did explicitly allude to that in his text this morning.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here then,” you reply with a sweet smile.

His eyes do that adorable crescent moon thing as he matches your grin while squeezing your fingers in random patterns. “Dork. You smell good, by the way.” 

Then his eyes flick downward to the white robe you’d haphazardly tied around yourself. This is the first time in your relationship that he’s seeing you wearing something more revealing than work or street clothes or pajamas. And he digs it a lot so far.

Resuming eye contact, Hyunjin asks with puppy-dog eyes, “Did I interrupt anything?”

Missing his well-veiled insinuation, you answer, “Not at all. I just got out of the shower, actually.”

Dropping your hands and instead placing his on your waist, Hyunjin says in a hushed voice, “Do you know how sexy you look right now?”

You gently grasp his forearms, feeling a tingle of excitement course through your nerves. “No... Tell me more.” You stare up at him with growing determination, your intuition screaming that this is a make-or-break moment, and god are you ready. Three months of just making out and dry-humping is torture.

“Nah,” he murmurs before craning his neck to plant a long, deep kiss on your lips. He pulls less than an inch away, his lips literally still atop yours. “You already know.”

At that, you cup his cheeks and mash your lips back together. A pang of desperation flashes within your chest as he molds his torso against yours and wraps his arms around your back, so you part your lips to meet tongues.

You’ve wanted this since the one-month mark because you and Hyunjin just click, and the level of physical magnetism between you has always been unbearably high. He’s truly your best friend, more so than your few girlfriends. You don’t need to think this through because now it feels right.

A few moments have passed. Hyunjin has carried and plopped you dead center on your bed. Looming over on all fours, he bores his eyes into yours with a nearly palpable kind of lust.

“Do you want me to undress?” he asks.

You smile. “I don’t care either way, baby. I’m just thrilled this is happening.”

Hyunjin smirks before tugging off his hoodie (no undershirt, that lazybones) and coming back down to tenderly kiss you. You feel the knot around your waist loosening, but he only moves the robe off your chest. Oh so delicately, he palms the underside of one of your breasts while bracing himself with the other hand.

You whimper when he kisses a sensual, painfully slow trail down your neck, stopping near the top of your other breast to gently suck and kiss. Both hands greedily rolling your breasts now, he slithers back to your lips, being a little more careless this time around.

Feeling your hunger exploding, you undo his jeans and slide a hand in, grasping his throbbing, girthy dick. Hyunjin groans into your mouth and thrusts his hips deeper into your touch, begging you wordlessly. So you oblige by slowly pumping his shaft and snaking your free hand in and around to grab a supple butt-cheek.

“Baby,” he whispers between kisses. “Harder―please.”

Trying not to smirk too much, you grant his request, maybe just a liiiittle too much pressure, but you reason that he’s way too turned on at this point. You even pick up the pace to a steady rhythm, occasionally caressing that butt-cheek.

Still feverishly making out with you, Hyunjin emits a deliciously drawn out moan against your lips, and he switches to tenderly pinching your nipples between his fingertips, which causes you to moan too. Now you can feel the precum gathering on your palm.

“Jinnie,” you pull away, “I’m as ready as you are.” Your eyes dart down to his dark pink tip bobbing in and out of view then back to his flushed face.

“Good,” he breathes out. “’Cause I want you bad.” 

With that, he pulls himself upright, forcing you to stop pumping him, as he scoots down your thighs to move aside the rest of your robe, finally giving him what he wants: your nude, freshly showered body all for him.

You can see his eyes actually glazing over with desire as he shamelessly assesses you, his hands trembling over you as if he can’t believe this isn’t his nightly handjob fantasy.

“Hyunjin, why are you shaking? Are you nervous?” you ask, starting to doubt yourself.

“No, I’m so fucking over the moon right now I don’t know what to do,” he replies, a seductive airiness in his voice.

You pause, taking his words into consideration. “That’s okay, babe. Why don’t we take the rest off?”

Within seconds, your robe is chucked to the floor along with his jeans and underwear. You climb on top of Hyunjin and sit on his thighs, his beautiful erection lying like a stone against his flat stomach as he strokes your own thighs with his moistening palms. 

“Can I touch you?” you ask, doing your best to keep your excitement from bubbling over.

“Please touch me,” he murmurs with expectant eyes, bringing his hands to your hips.

With the pad of your index finger, you trace a line up his veiny shaft from the base, and Hyunjin loudly exhales when you graze over the sensitive frenulum. Now, you lightly run your dominant hand up his shaft, pausing to dig his tip in circles against your palm.

“You’re teasing me...” Hyunjin whines, gripping your hips even tighter in his big hands.

You smirk. “What should I do then?”

He simply burns you with a narrow-eyed gaze, either mentally swearing about how ridiculously hot you look on top or carefully choosing his words.

Completely flipping the situation, though, he overpowers you with zero struggle, barreling you both over so he can loom above you again.

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” he responds in a dangerously husky tone while he captures your wrists in one of his hands and roughly pins them against the pillows. “You’re gonna have the best night of your life,” he growls, knocking your legs apart with his knee.

And without skipping a beat, Hyunjin pushes into you with his other hand pressed horizontally against your abdomen to feel his length poking upward from within your flexible, very aroused walls. And it does, causing an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp to escape your mouth.

Hyunjin freezes, bringing that hand to your cheek, still tightly clutching your wrists in the other. “Tell me when,” he whispers, eyes roving all over your expression of combined surprise and newfound pleasure.

You take this moment to push your chin up and open-mouth kiss him a few times before whispering your permission while he tries to palm one of your breasts: “Go, Hyunnie.”

Off he goes into a decent, far-from-slow pace, rolling his hips effortlessly into your wet core just enough to avoid slamming your cervix. Luckily for him, this is exactly where your G-spot rests.

“HYUNjin,” you huff as he adds more pressure to his thrusts, bumping into your spot every other second.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks in a breathy voice.

You can’t control your eyes rolling back in their sockets when he finally increases his speed, full-on hammering into your pussy now. “Nothing—oh fUCk—”

“Ohhh okay, that means ‘don’t stop,’” Hyunjin interrupts, looking at you smugly.

You regain control of your eyes long enough to meet his devilish expression with your own. “You can do better.”

The very millisecond his brain processes those haughty words, his eyes nearly boggle out of his skull before he laces his hands with yours and throws them down parallel to your shoulders. To sweeten the deal even more, he uses the same knee to slide under your thigh and push your leg up as far as he can press with his torso, which—at the marvelous new angle Hyunjin’s even harder dick is kissing your sweet spot now—sends you into your first vaginal orgasm.

Watching your chest uncontrollably convulse with euphoria, Hyunjin open-mouth grins out of both pride and arousal, pushing himself to let up on the speed but max out on pressure, definitely slamming your cervix with each purposeful thrust. At this, your own mouth flies open in a silent scream, and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

“BabyIneedtocum,” Hyunjin groans in one mashed-together word before conjoining your mouths with messy kisses and tongue-sucking straight out of porn.

“I’m on birth control,” you sigh against his hair as he licks your neck. “Cum in me, Jinnie.”

You hear the most guttural, pussy-throbbing groan from him because that’s all he needs: your sexy, fucked-out voice (as if it wasn’t already naturally sexy to him) telling him to go ahead and paint your tight cave of wonders white. 

All in less than a second, Hyunjin releases your hands, wraps his arms around your body, presses himself against you with all the energy he has left, and digs his already pulsing dick as deep as possible. You’ve been unknowingly clenching on him this whole time in the wake of your heart-stopping orgasm, so he spends a good twenty seconds holding you, taken hostage by his own unbridled pleasure.

Panting as if he’d hiked five miles in the mountains, he pulls himself off of you, cups your flushed face in his warm hands, and says, “And it’s not even close to dinnertime.”

[azvolrien]

Thunder

Hello children, it’s time for some plotless fluff

~~~

           The storm had blown in from the sea at some point in the night. Rain and hail hammered against the roof and the windows rattled in their frames from the force of the wind, but despite the din, Fayn only awoke with a start at the first crash of thunder.

           Struggling to steady her breathing, she took stock of her surroundings. The attic bedroom in 26 Full Moon Crescent, not quite familiar yet after only a week of living there. The linen curtains over the dormer window, not muffling the storm in the slightest and doing precious little to block the streetlights either. The wide, soft double bed, piled with blankets and shoved right into the corner of the attic so that it was overhung by the slope of the roof, close enough to touch if she reached up with one arm. And, of course, Wygar.

           Fayn propped herself up on one elbow to look down at him. A life-long native of Stormhaven, it clearly took more than a bit of the wild weather that named the city to disturb him; he was still fast asleep, one arm over the quilt as he lay on his side, his long hair loose from its waking ponytail and trailing over the pillow, and a faint smile on his bony face.

           The thin curtains lit up a brilliant white; not even a second later, thunder roared overhead again. Fayn swallowed, screwing her eyes shut until the echoes faded, then carefully folded down her side of the blankets, crawled to the foot of the bed, and placed one foot then the other on the floor, wary of any creak in the boards. Silently, she padded over to the window and brushed the curtains aside.

           The rain had coated the old, wavy glass so thoroughly that the water barely added any extra distortion to the view. The storm drain in the street had overflowed, leaving a huge puddle that covered half of the road, its surface almost spiky with the relentless downpour. As Fayn watched, another bolt struck the lightning conductor atop the Clock Tower up at the College, illuminating the skyline for a heartbeat. The thunder that followed completely drowned out the footsteps behind her, so that only her rein on her instincts stopped her from lashing out when a hand touched her shoulder.

           It was, naturally, only Wygar. When Fayn didn’t pull away, he wound both arms loosely around her and hugged her gently back against his chest, resting his chin on her head as they both gazed out at the storm. Fayn sighed and folded her arms over his, relaxing a little against his warmth on her back.

           “I can raise a sound ward, if you’d like,” Wygar murmured, only just loud enough to hear over the rain. “So you don’t have to hear the thunder.”

           Fayn shook her head. “I think not hearing anything might be worse.”

           “If you say so.”

           They watched the storm in silence for a while longer. Again, lightning struck the Clock Tower. Wygar held her a little tighter through the inevitable rumble.

           “Come on,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “It’s too cold tonight to be standing around. Come back to bed.”

           “I was trying not to wake you up,” said Fayn, tucking her head under his chin as they settled back down under the blankets.

           “You didn’t, as it happens,” said Wygar, winding one arm around her back and brushing the fingers of the other through her hair. “I almost always wake up around this time for a little while. It’s just that usually I go straight back to sleep.” He chuckled as Fayn shifted slightly in his hold to drape one arm over his chest and one leg over both of his.

           “What?”

           “It’s just funny,” he said. “We went through all that bother getting the double bed up into the attic, and we only ever seem to use half of it.”

           Fayn let out a quick huff of breath that wasn’t quite a laugh, but was getting there. “What can I say? I’m surprisingly cuddly once you get to know me.” She fell silent at another clap of thunder, flinching closer to Wygar. “Thunder,” she muttered once her heart had slowed again. “What’s there to be scared of? Just a lot of noise. Stupid to be scared.”

           “Well, that’s easy,” said Wygar, stifling a yawn. “It’s because you’re not really afraid of thunder, per se.”

           “Um. What?”

           “Your first storm here in the city, you told me there had been a storm on the night of… of the attack on your village, yes?”

           “Yes…”

           “So – I don’t think it’s the noise that scares you, not in and of itself. It scares you because it’s a reminder of the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

           “I suppose I’d never really thought of it that way,” admitted Fayn after a few considering seconds. “Is it the same with you and flying?”

           Wygar hummed in thought. “Not really, no. Falling off the Clock Tower certainly didn’t help, but it scared me even before that.”

           “Does it still?”

           “Does flying scare me, you mean?” He nodded firmly. “I have it under control, more or less – I can do it if I have to – but I don’t think it’s something that will ever not scare me.”

           Fayn frowned. “Why did you take up a hobby of climbing around on rooftops, then?”

           “Well, there’s the thing. I actually like heights – the challenge of getting up there, the reward of the view from the top. But that feeling of not having anything solid to hold on to? Brr.” He shook his head.

           “Maybe that’s another reason you never learned to swim, too.”

           “Huh! Could be, cariad. Could be. I’d never thought of that that way.”

           “What exactly happened, when you fell off the Clock Tower?” asked Fayn.

           “Didn’t Calburn share that story back at Aldwyn’s Crossing?”

           “Calburn shared Calburn’s version, yes.”

           Wygar laughed and ran his hand over her hair again. “Yes, that’s true. He wasn’t there to actually watch, you see; he was in the library and only saw the aftermath. He doesn’t mean anything by the teasing, by the way – it’s just what he does to keep at bay how terrified he was. He loves me really.” He stared up at the ceiling for a few moments. “So, the Clock Tower story. The tower’s always been popular with climbers – people sometimes hold races to see how fast they can get up there, not that they’re supposed to – but there are several different ascents you can use to climb up to the base of the spire. A couple of them are almost like climbing a ladder, they’re that easy, but the rest are much harder. When I was… Gods, how old was I? Still an apprentice. About eighteen, I think.”

           He sighed and arched his back where he lay, stretching out the muscles of his chest. “Anyway, when I was about eighteen and all puffed up with my success elsewhere on the College building, I decided to try my hand at one of those difficult routes. It goes up one of the corners of the tower, then you have to climb past this overhang just below the clock face and grab onto one of the gargoyles to pull yourself up to the next ledge. That… was where I had trouble. See, usually the more experienced climbers maintain the routes, marking out any handholds that have become unsafe, but they must have missed that one on their last round. It had been raining recently, you see, and the gargoyle was all wet with this green sludge that had accumulated in the water spout. It didn’t feel so bad at first, but the second I committed my weight to it…” He held up one hand and flicked the fingers out as if releasing something from his grip. “The stone slipped right through my grasp, and I fell about a hundred feet straight down to land flat on my back on the roof of the library.”

           Fayn twitched in response and held on to him a little tighter, but said nothing.

           “Indeed. I broke a bunch of the roofing slates, as well as half my ribs, one leg and both arms to different degrees, and was lucky not to crack my skull open along with them; even so, I was out cold in the infirmary for about a week afterwards.”

           “And that didn’t put you off climbing?”

           He shook his head. “Not in the long run, no. You can still feel some of the marks, actually – not just the scars on the surface but in the bone as well. Here, put your hand on my side.”

           Fayn pressed her hand flat against his ribs, running her fingers along one of the gentle ridges beneath the skin. Sure enough, it didn’t take long to find the slight imperfection where the bone had healed. “It must have hurt,” she said quietly.

           “I imagine it did,” said Wygar, “but I genuinely don’t remember very much between losing my grip on the gargoyle and waking up in the infirmary. That’s why Calburn tends to take over the story. I think he was more shaken up by the whole thing than I was.”

           “Why do all of your apprenticeship stories seem to end with you getting horribly injured somehow?” asked Fayn. She closed one hand around his wrist and waved his arm, indicating the burn scarring that covered it from elbow to knuckle to show what she meant.

           “Because overconfidence and inexperience are a very bad combination, and as an apprentice I had plenty of both!” He stretched again, working a kink out of his shoulders. “I calmed down eventually. Oh!” He kicked the blankets off and sat up, jolting a startled squeak out of Fayn as she was dislodged from her comfortable spot. “That reminds me,” he said, swinging both legs out of bed to kneel on the floor beside it. “I have something for you.”

           “Something that can’t wait until morning?” asked Fayn, rolling over into the space he had left and peering down over the edge of the bed at him.

           “It probably could have, but I’m already up now,” he said as he rummaged under the bed.

           “What’s the occasion?”

           “Well, I was originally going to save it for your birthday,” he said, pulling out a large, squashy bundle wrapped in linen and tied with string, “but you never did decide on a date for that. So the occasion is that I’m your husband and I love you.”

           Fayn placed one hand on top of his head and ruffled his hair before he straightened up out of reach.

           “See,” he continued, untying the string from the bundle and removing the linen, “I know you like to have a bit of weight on top of you in bed – stop grinning – but it sometimes just gets too hot here in summer for a heavy quilt. So-” he let the bundle unroll and held it up, “-I got you a weighted blanket.”

           “They make those?”

           “They do!” He knelt on the edge of the mattress and draped the blanket over Fayn. “You remember my friend Heddwyn? She usually keeps to herself – very quiet woman, quite shy – but she came to the wedding along with the rest of my yearmates. Anyway, she had one that always seemed to help her, so I wrote to her up on her weather station to ask where she got it. Turns out there’s a shop up in the Barracks that sells them. What do you think? I do still have the receipt…”

           Fayn pulled the blanket around herself and curled up in a ball. “This is really nice,” she said in a tone of faint awe.

           “So we don’t need the receipt?”

           “We do not need the receipt.” She freed one arm from beneath the blanket and reached out to him. “Get back in here, you.”

           Wygar grinned and lay back down beside her, pulling the rest of the blankets back up over them both. Lightning flashed outside again, but this time, a couple of seconds passed before the accompanying thunder, giving Fayn time to press the blanket over her ears.

           “It’s moving away,” said Wygar once the echoes had faded. “It’ll have gone before too long.” He yawned widely and draped an arm over her. “C’mere. Snuggle back up, Cuddles.”

           Fayn wrapped both arms around his chest and nestled her head under his chin again. “You smell different,” she commented. “Just a little. Bit of a lavender scent.”

           “I’ve been trying out a new aftershave.”

           “I thought you didn’t need to shave?” teased Fayn, running one thumb over his smooth jaw.

           “A common misconception – I do, just not very often.” He yawned again and closed his eyes, nuzzling her hair in an absent, sleepy fashion. “Try to get some sleep.”

           Fayn gave a small, contented sigh. “Wygar?” she said, smiling to herself.

           “Hmm?”

           “Don’t ever call me ‘Cuddles’ again.”

 ~~~

Fayn doesn’t know when her birthday is, other than ‘Winter, I think’; the Falkari tradition was to celebrate the date of the naming ceremony rather than the actual birth, and it’s been established in a couple of earlier stories that she wasn’t given one.

I know it, however. It’s the 15th of Fantasy January. Wygar’s is the 16th of Fantasy September.

[hornsbeforehalos]

Demon or Not

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x OFC Warnings: Angst, Smut. Request: “Girl... #10 with Dean... Maybe some angsty smut XD”  “If you were anyone else I’d have killed you a long time ago.” A/N: For my 400 follower contest winner, @dragongirl420 :) Thanks for putting up with me, bestfriend!

I do not own Supernatural or any of it’s characters. I just play with them. *DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE. I WILL FIND YOU.*

EVERYTHING TAGS:  @aquivercactus  @srj1990 @dragongirl420 @docharleythegeekqueen  @jesbakescookies  @make-things-beautiful2  @through-thesilver-lining @sorenmarie87  @daddy-kink-confirmed @redm81 @reigningqueenofwords @sorenmarie87 @heyitscam99

“Jenny, Jenny, Jenny, Mmm, mmm, mmm.” Dean cooed as he walked around the edge of the Devil’s Trap, feinging being unable to lash out at her like he wanted to. His crisp, obsidian eyes grazed over her curves as he smirked lustfully, “Don’t you just look delicious this evening.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” She spat back, seething as she drew her blade from her waist and held it defensively, “You don’t get to call me that.”

“I think I can call you whatever I want, sweets,” He purred, his smirk extending out into a smile, cocking his head to the side sarcastically before snorting, “Bitch.”

“Asshole.” She huffed back, her head recoiling in offense.

“Whore.”

“Douchebag.”

Dean chuckled as he looked down to his feet, his head rocking side to side in amusement, “Just like old times, huh, babe?”

“Fuck you,” She retorted hotly, fist clutching the dagger in a death grip to keep control of her temper.

“Mmmm,” Dean hummed in response, eyes flicking from black to the candy-apple green she loved so much, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jenny?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening for a moment before his movement shook herself back to reality. She watched the demon’s eyes return as he took a step over the painted barrier, the seven shots of human blood in his system rendering it useless. 

“Fuck,” She gasped as she began to step backward, stumbling over an old desk chair. The desk behind the chair caught her and kept her from falling. 

“You want to?” Dean snarked as he boxed her in, his knuckles resting on the wood on either side of her thighs. He gave her a toothy grin and licked his lips as he got close enough for her to feel his breath on her. 

She raised the knife in her hand to his throat, earning her a erotic groan from the Winchester as he raised back off of her. 

“Do it,” He snarled, his lip curling upward and tongue touching his teeth as he taunted her. Her hands were trembling as she pressed the blade into his skin, unable to push any further. 

“If you were anyone else, I’d have killed you a long time ago, you know?” He rasped with a smirk, pushing off the desk and snatching the knife out of her hand with ease before she realized what happened, “You know I won’t hurt you, right?”

“Pffft, yeah right.” She replied, still shaking as she tried to fight off the nerves coursing through her.

He looked genuinely offended, his brow furrowing and his head cocking to the side, “Just because I’m a demon doesn’t make me a liar,” he said, pointing to his chest in gesture, “I still love you.”

She scoffed at him as she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “Wise man once said, and I quote,” She pointed at him, “’Demons lie.’”

He gave her an understanding look, completely unable to blame her for her hesitance, but he really didn’t want to hurt her. Even if he hadn’t had so much humanity rushing through him, even if he was still the big, bad Knight of Hell he’d been a few days prior, he wouldn’t harm a hair on her head. He’d always been told that demons didn’t feel love, but demon or not he knew what he was feeling. The “de-demonizing treatment” as she’d called it just amplified those emotions for him. However, the “cure” still hadn’t been completed and well, a demon’s gotta have his fun, and no matter his love for her, he’d always liked seeing her squirm for him. 

He watched her calculating his every movement as he approached her slowly. He sat the knife on the table, a little out of reach of her hand as he encased her again. He could hear her heartbeat accelerating as she dug her nails into her palms to keep from reaching out for him. He pressed against her, his lips ghosting breaths across the goose bumping flesh of her neck and brushing against her earlobe.

“Mmm,” He cooed as he inhaled her natural scent of shampoo and perfume, the faint flavor of fear only egging him on, “I missed you, baby.”

Her breathing halted as her eyes welled up with unshed tears, the feeling of having him around her and what he was saying overwhelming. He smelled the same, looked the same, save his eyes, and made her feel the same as he always had. He pulled his face back to where their noses brushed, his emerald irises twinkling at her as he gave her a small smile.

“I miss you too.” She whispered, almost completely silent as a single tear rolled down her cheek, sending a pang of love through him. Dean cupped her face and wiped the stream of saltiness away with the rough pad of his thumb as she sniffed and finally met his eyes. His lids crinkled at the sides as he smiled at her, the appearance of his old self sealing the fact that she wouldn’t deny him anything. 

His lips were on hers before she could protest or move away, not that she would have done either anyway. The sweetness of her mouth mixing with his as their tongues violated each other. It was like it always had been- natural and loving and perfect. He slotted himself between her thighs as he pressed his body against hers, his arms wrapping around her shoulder and waist. Her ankles hooked around the back of his legs as her nails dug into his neck and the maroon shirt covering his chest, and he moaned into her mouth as she pulled him even closer to her. 

“There’s my girl,” He smirked when she bit down on his bottom lip and ground her hips into his in a needy motion. He returned the favor gladly, earning him a loud moan of her own that cascaded through the room. He kneaded the flesh of her hips and ass, his fingers leaving bruises and nails pressing crescent shaped marks into her skin as he moved beneath her clothing. 

He wasted no time in getting her out of her shirt, his cock swelling with the sight of her ample cleavage spilling over the tops of her bra. He buried his face between her tits and sucked and licked and lapped, his hands moving to find the clasp of the confining garment and ridding her of it. 

She helped him out of his clothing as well, pushing the button-up off his shoulders and pulling the t-shirt over his head just as quickly as he had done her. He’d pulled away from her a little bit to drop the fabric to the floor, and she reached forward and gripped his belt buckle, snapping his hips back into her thighs with intent. 

“In a rush, sweetheart?” He asked before she attacked his mouth again, his hands groping her heavy breasts to find her nipples and tease them. 

“Someone’s gonna come lookin’ for me soon,” She mumbled against him, licking his upper lip and sucking his bottom one between her teeth. 

“Well then,” He replied, smirking again while pulling back, “Let’s get you out of these pants then, shall we?”

She nodded her head as he worked at the buttons, lifting her hips for him to slide the denim off her thighs along with her panties. Dean groaned at the sight of her naked and bare and propped up on a desk, waiting for him to take her, his mouth watering at the glistening wetness between her legs. 

He popped his own belt and buttons and zipper and pulled out his hard cock, the tip already dripping with his need to gorge himself on her. He fisted himself and slid the swollen tip between her sopping lips, pulling a wanton mewl out of her as she dug her nails back into his neck and back. 

“Dean,” She keened when she felt him at her entrance, her soft skin pliable to his every will. He pushed into her slowly, filling her up and stretching her to completion. 

“Fuck, so hot,” He groaned before sliding almost all the way out of her and impaling her again, punching another lusty moan out of her on impact. He repeated the motion over and over, the sound of their flesh smacking against each other filling the dungeon. 

He’d never get tired of the sensations she gave him, the grip of her tight walls sending fireworks through his body and sparks flying behind his lids. He snarled against the curve of her delicate neck, his teeth finding purchase as he marked her darkly while pumping in and out of her with abandon. His heart ached in his chest as he watched her writhe, the love he had for her unchangeable.

“Fuck, Dean,” She gasped as he hit her deep, the emotional hurricane in her heart bringing tears to her eyes as sobs started to wrack through her. He gripped the back of her neck and pulled his lips to hers to quiet her cries, the warmth of his embrace quickly sending her spiraling. One of his hands snaked between their bodies, the rough calloused tip of a finger finding her throbbing clit and swirling over it again and again.

“Gotta be quick, remember, sweetheart?” He panted as he sped up his pace, wanting to feel her quiver against him before they were inturrupted, “Gotta cum for me.”

“Fuck, Dean,” She breathed, her eyes rolling back into her head, “Harder.”

“Fuck,” He growled, pulling out of her and pulling her off the desk. He flipped her around and bent her over the table top, his hands digging into her ass cheeks as he filled her again. 

“Shit, Dean!” She wailed as he pummeled her, the new angle hitting her cervix deep and hard. 

She yelped in surprise when his large hand came in contact with the flesh of her ass, the crack echoing in her ears as pinpricks pulsed through her.

“Cum for me, Jen. Come for me, now.” He growled as he leaned over to her hear, his own climax drawing nearer and nearer, “Let me feel it, girl.”

It only took a few more drags of his thick cock against her before her body started to melt, her fluttering walls gripping and squeezing him as she came. Her voice left her in a loud, lingering wail that was enough to send Dean over his own edge, his thick, hot cum shooting rope after rope inside her. 

He pulled out of her still pulsing pussy and tucked himself back in before helping her up and back into her own clothing, She closed her eyes as he kissed her again, losing herself in him until the bolted door of the dungeon opened. 

“Get away from her, Dean.” Sam said sternly, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them without registering what had just happened between them.

“What are you gonna do, Sammy?” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned to his baby brother and held his hands out, “Kill me?”

A flutter of wings was heard to the left of them, Castiel suddenly appearing, “Step away from her, Dean.”

Dean held his hands up in surrender, turning back to face her as Castiel reached to restrain him, “Me and Jenny were just...talking, weren’t we Sweetheart?”

“You shouldn’t be in here, Jen.” Castiel scolded as he gripped Dean’s arms, “He’s still not human, he could’ve killed you.”

“It’s fine, guys. I’m fine,” She reassured as she watched Cas pull Dean back to the center of the Devil’s Trap and push him back down into the seat with little resistance while Sam prepared the final dose of blood. Deans onyx eyes met hers and he gave her a small smile. 

“See, have a little faith in me, guys. I wouldn’t hurt the woman I love.” He snapped, jerking his head forward at Cas, who scowled at him. 

“Demons don’t know how to love, Dean, which means the treatment is working if you’re experiencing emotional attachment again.” Castiel explained indifferently as he secured him in place as Sam approached. 

“Demon or not, I would never hurt her.”

 She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard Dean roar as the syringe was injected into his throat, Sam reciting the incantation that would hopefully bring her love back to her completely. She opened her eyes as she heard his labored breathing, the pain he was experiencing flashing his eyes from green to black and back again.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Hanc animam redintegra, lustra! Lustra!"