#i bet when he was a zombie when he first came to land of departure hed say something so weird bc its a

[cinnabeat]

i love the idea that theres always gonna be something Slightly Off about ventus

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

No nut November

Imagine: in the glory of No Nut November, you make a bet with your lover saying if they fail you cuff them and use them to your liking but if you lose they get to fulfill one of their fantasies. And you are keen on it to make them lose, by any means.

Victor Creed

Accepting the challenge that is No Nut November, it's a walk in the park, after all, he did have a wager with you. So you were prepared to make him lose.

Walking into your living room dressed in a maid outfit so small enough that the skirt perfectly (barely) covers your ass when you bend over. And you use it wisely, in front of him.

-Excuse me, Mr. Creed. Just a second.

He watches your form in front of him seeing the black thong between your cheeks that peaked between getting the sensation he started to miss already.

-You want me to lose, dove?

He asks as he grins feeling his palm on his hard length trying to massage the hard-on away.

-Me, no. I'm just wearing this costume since I didn't go to the Halloween party. So this is my chance. It's not my fault you have a dirty mind.

-It's not that hard with a beautiful girl like you.

Damn!

He knew how to rile you up.

-So you forfeit? You do remember your punishment.

Victor stands up walking to you slapping your check roughly as he smirks down at you.

-Being handcuffed while you ride me isn't that much as a punishment.

Steve Rogers

For Steve, it's somewhat easy. He is always on a mission kilometers away from you. That also means when he comes back to you he is a beast... Until he accepted the bet. After a day passed since he came home he wanted to devour you.

-Ready to relinquish, captain?

You asked as you sat next to him on the couch dressed in your pajamas. You knew you didn't have to do much, he will crumble himself eventually.

-No...

He trailed off but you saw how hard he was, partially begging to take you.

-When you think about it if you lose it isn't that bad. Sure you would be handcuffed and you don't like to be submissive...

With that Steve grabs your hand yanking you to him so you sit comfortably on his dick.

-Who said I don't like to be submissive?

You kiss happily knowing that there is indeed something like a 'Submissive Captian'.

Bucky Barnes

-Doll, I have been known in my days as 'James the Champ', which meant I NEVER lost.

You turn your gaze to him watching him through the glass as you applied your red lipstick as he leaned in the door frame.

-Well, of course, but you never went head to head with me.

Bucky rolls his eyes at your testimony as you walked towards him letting your steps be slow and seductive as your hands land on his shoulders.

-That means I'll just have to go to the girl's night out without my departure gift.

Bucky licks his lips finding it hard not to fuck you before you go, your usual tradition before you or him went. Always marking each other up to know how just lucky you are that the rest of the population.

-Looks like it.

He said slowly as he felt your fingers dance along his neck waiting for your kisses just below his ears. He closes his eyes focusing his hands trying to control his animalistic behavior from jumping out and losing the bet.

-I'll be home in a few hours.

You kissed his cheek and left your shared home for the first time ever since he came back from the mission. Closing the door Bucky jumps onto the bed discarding his pants and mixer and quickly getting to work.

Ding

Bucky stops for a second as he looks at his phone a new text message form you.

A photo.

Opening the photo it's a picture of him jerking off with the title being

'When I come home you prepare for your self for the punishment.'

Loki Laufeyson

After spending almost an hour explaining Loki the No Nut November he was rather excited to try his limits. And the bet was just as sweet. He did always say that his mind is the strongest of anyone but you knew how to crack him. And now was the time.

Cooking.

Loki loved to help you cook especially when you bake a cake just for the fun of it. Taking the freshly whipped cream covered cake you dip your finger onto your slice of the cake totally forgetting the fork beside you and putting the whipped cream covered finger into your mouth letting the delicious moans be loud for Loki to hear.

Loki watched you torture him as he felt drool exiting from his open mouth.

The bet.

He needed to be strong, he is royalty they never give their power to others. Especially if they are his amazing and sexy lover.

-Delicious.

You moaned as you looked at Loki as he shakes his groaned approval.

-Yes... You are.

Giggling at his blurb you walk to him pressing your body on his.

-Ready to forfeit, my King?

Loki sighs and for a split second he nods.

-Yes. I'm yours, my love.

Thor Odinson

He loved challenges, he loved the pressure to succeed and prevail amongst other mortals that failed. And he was furthermore ready for the challenge. You were in it to make him beg for you. And you knew just about how.

-My darling, how about a kiss?

Thor asked as held you by your waist.

-I'm sorry, Thor. The bet is limited only to hugs other than that it's losing.

Thor sighs as he watched you walk away hoping that this will end soon.

-Y/n, my light, my moon... Can you bestow me kiss onto my aching lips?

Looking down at your kneeling boyfriend you laugh as you watch Tony enter.

-For fucks sakes. Thor just forfeit and get a room!

Tony screamed clearly irritated at the muscular God.

-But fellow Tony much is at stake.

-Just kiss her and get it over with. I'm tired of hearing your pending across the HQ.

-Forfeit Thor and I'm all yours.

Thor looks back at you and he nods to your words as he lands his lips on yours softly.

-Please, do go get a room!

Thor continued to kiss you as he carried you out of the living room leaving Tony to wash his eyes with soap.

Bruce Wayne

He is the man, the detective, the toughest of tough. He can endure every pain and still make it on time to a date with you. But when a wager is in he is 10 times tougher. He is in it for the end line. But you were also stubborn as him, even more. This will be fun.

-Come on, Bruce. You possibly can't endure a whole month without feeling me. And my body.

Bruce looked at you as you swayed in your dress next to him watching the crowd of shallow rich species.

-Believe me, It's hard. But knowing I beat you in a bet is all the worthwhile. Plus, I have spent years in isolation so this will be easy.

Rolling your eyes at his ruling you walk away grabbing Olivers Queen and going to the center of the ballroom, in the perfect position in front of paparazzi, rich folk and Bruce.

-Ready to waltz, Oliver?

-Yeah, let's make some magic.

The dance was magical. You and Oliver moved in unions even better with Bruce but your eyes never left Bruce's figure. As the dance ended you pull out your leg from your high slit dress placing on Oliver's hip and giving a kiss on the cheek.

-Thank you.

-Always, temptress.

Walking back to Bruce you see his eyes locking onto your body and stoic expression he wastes no time in yanking you out of the room.

-Get ready to be punished, baby girl.

-Yes, sir.

Clark Kent

Clark is a cinnamon roll, you can't deny that, but he is rough when he wants to so pulling an invisible brake on his libido is pure torture.

-You know that you can always forfeit.

You say softly hoping from him to give up since you are feeling frisky.

-I don't know. I want to but I also want to win this bet.

Kissing his cheek, almost near his lips you see the twitch in his neck as he tries to kiss you on the lips. You know just what he needs. Fuel this small fire.

-If you want to complete this bet you can do that. I'm not gonna stop you. I can always ask Bruce for some meaningless fun.

Clark sharply runs to you on his face shock.

-Or maybe Arthur, or maybe even Diana. I am feeling very much frisky.

Clark shakes his head as his hands grip your waist and pulling you on his lap as his hands roughly grip your boobs.

-You are going to regret saying Bruce's name. I'll make you forget it.

-Prove it.

Arthur Curry

Arthur is filled with happiness and he very much finds joy in making you feel amazing. So proposing the bet he was against it. He himself knew that he won't last even 3 days without touching you.

-Maybe I'll accept the bet if you add something more.

-What do you propose?

-You being in a sexy costume of my choosing for 2 days.

Arthur grins at the idea.

-Fine. But if you lose. You'll fulfill my fantasy of choosing.

Arthur nods feeling excited as he shakes your hand, starting the challenge. A days pass and you knew how much he wanted to win even going so far to sleeping on the couch. He wanted to win so bad but seeing you exit the shower as he entered he just could not look away from your marvelous body, wanting to pinch your booty and massage your tense muscles.

He started to lose his cool. It was apparent. You saw it and somehow enjoyed seeing him squirm.

-You alright, Art?

He looked at you like a hurry and horny wolf (mostly horny)

-No. Want. To. Touch. So. Bad.

He slurped like a zombie as he watched your lips wind up in a smile. So kissable.

-You can. But there are consequences.

You walk to him at an arm's length not touching him just torturing him by the small insignificance distance.

-Come on, Arthur. You can't go on like this.

He huffs like a bear as he steps closer kissing your lips with so much need you almost fell on the floor he wasn't holding you tightly.

-Fine, you win but now I get my way.

-Deal.

Orm Marius

Orm wanted to touch you it was a fact but having a challenge for him as a prince was tantalizing. He wanted to try it and he was wrong he didn't understand the power you had on him and made his task a nightmare in his words at least.

-Y/n can you not be so sensual, beloved? I'm trying my hardest.

He pleaded hoping for you to change out of his shirt into your pajamas.

-I don't see the problem. I always wear it and you love it.

-I do! That's the issue. You are enticing me.

Snickering at him you walk to him standing in front of him as he sat on his chair.

-Well, then how about you get on your knees and worship me.

Orm gulps feeling his dick hardening at your command. He loved it when you took control and he lived when he submitted to you. It was like a drug. He doesn't answer as he drops to his knees in front of you looking up hopeless.

-Yes, my goddess.

Joker

-You want to chain me?! Chain the sex machine?! Are you crazy?

-It's not an order. Just a bet. You can decline it. It thought it would be fun.

-It's on.

After that J was focused and loaded as he focused on his 'gangster' work. After countless tries of seducing him in his office in his favorite lingerie. You took a break. To gather yourself and think of a new plan.

Got it.

As the night enrolled you walked into J's club dressed in a small red dress and walking past J's private club section. Only winking at him as he discussed business with another gangster. Going straight to the bar and sitting pretty it doesn't take long from the moths to come to the flame.

-Can I buy you a drink?

Many men ask as you lean on the bar table and seeing the bartender behind you butting in.

-Gentlemen, Y/n is...

-Its okay Mark. Let them be.

Mark nods obediently handing you your drink. After a while, you see Joker walking to you pushing away the men from you.

-Scarm before I kill you here.

The men run away and you smile at your man.

-You are very clever, luring me in with other men so I get jealous and fuck you hard.

-Did it work?

-Yes, princess. Prepare for the punishment of your life.

-And you too.

Duncan Vizla

-Y/n you should know that I am trained to be tougher than the average person. This puny bet won't affect me in the slightest.

Smiling at Duncan you counter his statement.

-I know but when people are told something they tend to the opposite. Something like the apple in the Garden.

-Are you pulling Biblical reference to get me on board with the bet?

-Maybe?

-Deal.

After that deal, you made sure he saw you every second. If he was in the kitchen you were there to help, if he was in the bathroom you needed an 'urgent bath'. When he sat in his leather chair you purposefully bend down to pick up anything that fell, accidentally. Even when sleeping. You were purposefully sleep talking small words that he wanted to hear.

-More Duncan... Faster... I'm yours... Mark me...

He was a tough nut to crack but it will be worthwhile. Just a little more. A few days passed being completely impressed by Duncan's steel will. As you walked into the house you see Duncan cooking his eyes looking solely one the scrambled eggs.

-You good, Duncan?

You ask as you watch Duncan turn to you pulling himself to you like on a string.

-In a way. A HARD way.

Moving your gaze down you see Duncan hard-on poking out of his pants.

-Need help with that?

You ask hoping for Duncan to nod and fuck you right here in the kitchen. Of course, as you tried to seduce Duncan and being left empty-handed was also hard on you leaving you wet and wanting more of his distant touch.

-Time is passing Mr. Vizla and your problem is still here. You know how it can be solved.

Duncan smiles viciously as he pushes you against the fridge. His rough lips smacking against yours as your ears pick up the calling of his belt.

-You are in a ride, prepare yourself Y/n.

[the-real-anywolf]

Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: So, This is Christmas

Tags: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Original Characters, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Castiel/Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Season/Series 15, This Fic Ain’t What You Think It’s Gonna Be, Angst, A Little Too Real, and Not a Smut in Sight, happy holidays, i guess,

Summary: Dean, and the angel Castiel, spend Christmas Eve serving food at a local soup kitchen.

Written by: @queerwolfsstuff​​ (queerwerewolf)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641707

Notes: I bet y'all were expecting a lovey, mushy, schmoopy floofy, fluff fest for this Destiel advent calendar? What have we been telling you guys all along?

Day 2 - So, This is Christmas

Things weren’t great. Were they better? Sure, but they weren’t great. Sam had convinced Cas to move back to the bunker. There was planning to do, and the odds of survival were higher together. Cas hadn’t spoken more than a couple of words to Dean since he got back, and they were usually, “I’m running errands.”

Dean had gotten into a habit he couldn’t break, demanding where Cas was going, to be met with those clipped words before Cas stormed out. Dean never expected Cas to come back, and every time the angel did… He hated how conflicted he was about it.

The anger was easier, it was easier than addressing any of the other emotions the angel caused. And while it was easier, it was also forcing them into this stalemate, neither one moving forward to finish the game.

These so-called errands happened a couple times a week. Dean knew there were no errands. Cas was up to something, and whether good or bad, Dean didn’t know. But when  Dean didn’t know, shit usually went sideways. So he brought his concerns up to Sam, and got bitched out and told to drop it in return. So sneaking around was out of the question.

Instead, Dean decided to try something a little different… directness.

It was Christmas Eve, and Cas was purposely looking straight ahead as he walked through the library, passing Dean, who had his legs kicked up on a table, spinning a beer in his palm. “Where are you going?” It was almost robotic now.

Without missing a beat, Cas said, “Running errands.”

Dean swung his legs down, followed by the sound of the metal chair legs colliding with the concrete. “Bullshit.”

Cas spun around, brow quirked as he regarded Dean for the first time in over a week. “Excuse me?”

Dean moved to stand up, crossing his arms over his chest as he approached. “I said, ‘bullshit.’ Bullshit you’re running errands. What possible errands could you be running on Christmas Eve?”

That was met with an eye roll before Cas turned his back to Dean. Cas silently made his way to the stairwell, so Dean grabbed his jacket and followed him.

Cas sighed as he grabbed the railing. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I need to run errands too. Figured I could tag along.”

Cas was halfway up the stairs and huffed out a soft, “No.”

Dean caught up to him and gripped his forearm. “Why not?”

“Because,” he started as he whipped around to face Dean, twisting his arm out of Dean’s grasp. “I am not actually ‘running errands,’” he said, complete with air quotes.

He knew it! Now Dean needed to figure out what Cas was up to. “Then what are you doing?”

Cas regarded Dean for a moment, face expressionless as he appeared to evaluate the situation. “Does it mean that much to you to know where I’ve been going?”

Far from backing down now, Dean straightened his posture and said, “Yes.”

Cas shrugged and turned back around before ascending the stairs. When he reached the landing, he looked down at Dean expectantly. “Are you coming?”

…. :::: :::: ….

The ride over, in Cas’s newly acquired VW bus, was painfully silent. Dean realized early on they were headed into town, but refrained from asking. He kept sliding his thumb over the handle of his Sig.

When they pulled up to a building near the church, Dean furrowed his brow. The lights were bright on the mostly dark, closed down street. Large windows with fake snow painted along the edges gave a view of dozens of people, more people than he thought this town had, standing in line in, what looked like, a makeshift cafeteria.

Cas slamming the door shut shook Dean out of his bemused haze as he unbuckled the lap belt and slipped out of the hippie van. Before Dean could say anything, a young woman with curly black hair and a bright smile approached Cas and pulled him in for a hug.

“Clarence! We could really use your help tonight.”

Cas laughed, a genuine and appreciative sound Dean hadn’t heard in way too damn long. “Kristianna, is everything alright?”

She shook her head. “Two of the volunteers ended up sick with the flu, so we had to send them home.”

That was met with a serious nod as he pointed to Dean. “I brought my friend. We can put him on dishes and pull Erica to the serving line.”

Kristianna appeared relieved as she nodded. “Awesome. Can you show him around real quick, I’ll go grab him an apron and gloves from storage.”

Cas flashed her an affirmative smile and nodded for Dean to follow him inside. As Cas played tour guide, it finally clicked where they were. Shit. Dean didn’t realize just how many homeless people lived in this little county.

When they reached the back kitchen, Kristianna was waiting for them, holding out an apron for Dean. “It’s pretty simple,” she said as she began to go over each step of the process. Load the rack. Rinse the big gunk off. Place in the industrial washer. Rinse and repeat.

Dean was listening, but he found himself a little mesmerized by Cas. He was chatting with another volunteer, a taller woman with long red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She laughed at whatever Cas said while he pulled off his trenchcoat and started rolling up his shirt sleeves.

When he looked up again, their eyes met. Cas flashed him a small smile before he turned and left the back kitchen. Kristianna handed Dean the hose and patted his shoulder before departing with an encouraging smile. Dean let out a soft, mirthless laugh and shook his head.

The guilt wasn’t an instant avalanche, it was more of a slow methodical build up as he spent his time alone washing and drying dozens and dozens of dishes. The work kept him focused, while he berated himself for… hell… everything. Berating and admitting that maybe… maybe Dean clung to the anger because Cas still hadn’t acknowledged what Dean prayed to him.

The anger was because he was hurt. Was because he told Cas what he felt… how he felt, how Cas had changed everything for Dean and he didn’t know how to cope with that change. How to process an emotion he’d buried for many years. And then Cas came back, and didn’t say a damn thing. The longer he ignored Dean, the worse it got.

Dean scoffed as he pulled the clean rack of dishes out. Maybe he was pissed over something that never happened. Maybe Cas never got the prayer. Maybe Dean had been treating his best friend like crap for too damn long.

Because that best friend was apparently the kind of guy that, while there was a pissed off fanboy playing puppeteer with them, still gave his time to people in need. To people who were impacted by the cruelty of this world long before Chuck threw in zombies, and ghosts, and all the other cliche crap.

Cas spent his free time here, making a positive difference in his own little corner of the world, and Dean had never felt like a bigger asshole in his life.

…. :::: :::: ….

Kristianna let out a huff of laughter as she locked up the door, yanking on the chain. “I’m so glad we were able to give people seconds and left overs.”

Cas hummed in agreement. “I appreciate the generosity of this time of year. We haven’t run out of food all month.”

As the murmurings of agreement turned into hugs and departures with a, “Merry Christmas,” and, “Happy Holidays,” on everyone’s lips, Cas faced Dean and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you for your help tonight.”

Dean shook his head in amazement. “Why didn’t you just tell me this was what you were doing?”

Cas let out a soft sigh and shook his head as he started walking to his car. “Can we call a truce, just for tonight?”

Dean gently halted him with a grasp on his wrist. “Did you hear me?”

Cas furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

Did you hear me when I prayed to you?

The flash of understanding was answer enough. Cas turned from Dean and let out a soft sigh. “A truce, please,” Cas urged as he made no attempt to get away.

And despite the urge to demand answers, Dean released his grip on Cas’s wrist. With a soft sigh, Dean took a step back. “Okay. Truce.”

Cas looked up, expression clearly surprised that Dean agreed. He caught the small twitch of Cas’s lips before his expression was serious again. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean nodded and followed him back to the stoner van. As Cas pulled out his keys, they locked eyes through the windows of each side. Dean exhaled his breath to fog up his window and used his finger to write,

“saC, samtsirhC yrreM”

That got him a broad smile and audible laugh before Cas exhaled on his window and wrote,

“It’s backwards”

When they met again on the inside, Dean clapped a hand on Cas’s shoulder and said, “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Cas looked down at the placement of Dean’s hand for a moment before he braced his own over Dean’s. With a gentle squeeze, Cas returned a soft, “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

war is over if you want it, war is over