#light violence
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Title: Goodnight Shadow
Author: orphan_account
Website: Ao3
Published: 18.06.2012
Word Count: 2.945 words
Suited for minors? Teen and up
Warnings: Descriptions of wounds/violence
Smut? No
Finnished? Yes
Characters: Sonic the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehoh
Ships: Sonic/Shadow
Author Tags: War, Alternate Universe, Storytelling, One shot
Author Summary: After a long drawn-out, bloody battle, Shadow returns to bed, trying to sleep away his fears. It is until Sonic is at his bedside, ready to tell him a bedtime story, is when his doubts are erased. Sonadow, Oneshot.
My summary: A little Oneshot about Sonic helping Shadow to sleep with a little Story. There is some descriptions of violence.
You can read it here
#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#sonadow#no smut#alternate universe#sonic fanfiction#one shot#light violence#dailysonadowfanfics#length: 1k-5k#finished
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New jason todd-centric comic up! <3 Full on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59239732/chapters/151068454
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Animals of the Ensemble
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Whumptober Day 28! It was only a matter of time till they got caught
#whumptober 2023#no.28#we might not make it to the morning so go on and tell me now#unprepared casters#fic#referenced execution#imprisonment#light violence#unprepared casters fic#off the rails#on the rocks#atelut#rian#atelut x rian#double proposal#it's my favourite trope I will put it in everything#you can not stop me
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(One of) Their First Gifts [Dbd The Twins Commission/OC]
This is a commission for @hexheathen! I hope you enjoy this fic cause I enjoyed writing it~
No Warnings Apply
They told her that it was pointless, but Hex couldn't help herself! Once she sets her mind to something, it's only a matter of time before she gets her desired outcome, no matter how long it takes! (or how many times her face is mauled-)
Hex’s breath came out in short, visible puffs as she struggled to find her bearings in this not quite right rendition of an average suburb, Somewhere U.S.A. She was supposed to find… generators, she thinks? But she couldn’t even find another person as of yet. There were supposed to be three others, right? And someone that’s supposed to hurt you all? It put Hex on edge more than a little… In fact, she was nearly vibrating out of her skin. She’s quite literally a rainbow target… The others that you briefly met were- more or less- dressed in dark colours they could use as a sort of impromptu camouflage while she was here in her neon pink and blue hair and her yellow, midriff jacket and lime green striped socks…
A stray piece of drywall skid across the floor as her foot made contact with it. It was so loud that it echoed in the mostly empty school building. Hex cringed and hissed between her teeth. That, too, bounced off the peeling walls and made her screw her eyes shut. Is she always this loud? She never really thought about it until now. Hex can be clumsy at times but now that it’s quite literally a life and death scenario, it’s really evident and something that’s got her feeling more self conscious and aware than she’s ever been in her entire life.
O-kay… Let's try downstairs…
If someone- or something- is here, it should have heard her by now, right? Even as Hex carefully made sure to not drag her feet across the floor, every step she took was accompanied with a near deafening crunch and the sliding of bits of dirt and debris against the sole of her boots. Something made her stop mid cringe- something large and shiny and sort of box-like in shape-
A generator!
The apprehension and fear that Hex felt suddenly shifted into giddy excitement. As dizzying as the change was, it didn’t stop her from sprinting- and sliding rather loudly- over to the hunk of silent metal. She looked it over, standing on her tiptoes and hunkering down low to look at some of the various knobs and wires that were sticking out of the machine.
Uhh… What exactly is she supposed to do with this?
All that was said to her was ‘fix the generators’. No one ever really told her how to do this. Hex reached out, then pulled away, then reached out one again. Um… Why are there so many things here…? She twisted a knob and jumped as the generator began to hum and chug very softly.
Oh-! Is she doing it?!
She twisted another knob and everything was okay. Then she knelt down and began to examine the wires. Yeah, she’s clueless… But Hex still decided ‘screw it’! She pressed some of the bare wire tips together, bracing to be electrocuted or blown up or something… but nothing happened! The generator sounds like it’s picking up speed so she’s obviously doing something right! Feeling confident, Hex reached up to twist another knob but stopped as something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.
It was something small. Maybe… she only thinks she saw something. Right around the corner from where she crouched in front of the machinery. It was only for a second… but Hex was sure that she saw someone. But someone very, very small… A child? There wouldn’t be a child here, right?! The thought alone was enough to get her to let go of the generator. Which promptly exploded in her face with a loud POP!
Hex recoiled and shielded her face from the bright sparks. Oh shh… ! She really, really hopes no one heard that! Talk about embarrassing! Still… that little dude that she saw was what she was truly worried about. This is a big, scary place with too many hazards for a little kid! She got up and started to fast walk to where she thought she saw the child peek out from. Rounding the corner, Hex saw…
Nothing.
I need to at least check the school…
There’s no way in hell she could think of anything else other than that little guy that she saw… Hex cleared the basement twice, finding no trace of anyone else other than herself down there. Maybe upstairs? She checked the section that she entered from and found nothing. The room across? Nothing… The little reception area? Nothing… There’s only a few rooms left, so Hex doesn’t have a lot of options left. Will she look everywhere for this kid…? Probably. She can’t help it! The poor thing must be cold and hungry and scared… Like how she is now! Probably a lot more than she is, actually! So she looks in the final three rooms.
Nothing.
Nothing…
Ah-
Yes! There is someone in there! In a corner, Hex sees a very small lump in the corner, seemingly shivering and hunkered over. It looked like a child- Yes! A very, very small and young child- practically a toddler!- that wore not a scrap of clothing on their person. Poor little baby! Hex didn’t hesitate to take her own jacket off as she rushed over to the trembling child.
“Aww-! Shh… Shh… It’s okay, little guy… Or girl- It’s going to be okay! I won’t let a thing happen to you…” She fell to her knees and prepared to drape her jacket over the child… and sort of paused as she saw how different they looked.
Poor thing… Were they abandoned? They were dirty- is that blood?- and clearly had some deformities. Sharp little teeth poked out of their cleft lips and talon like claws were curled up on their fingers as they held their arms to their chest. Rather than making Hex feel fear, she felt even more determined to help the child. She could tell by looking at them that they didn’t have it easy… As she gently cooed at them and prepared to cover them with her jacket-
They shivered and turned to look at her. Hex gave a gentle smile. As she was about to reassure them that she was there to help-
-they pounced on her face.
Hex didn’t realize what even happened at first. The ear-piercing screech the little guy released when they leapt at her face completely disoriented her, and that’s not including the weight of a whole toddler clinging to her face, completely blinding her and slightly suffocating her while their little claws dug into the back of her head and threatened to rip her hair out by the little handful. Hex fell backwards and released a cry of her own, completely muffled and drowned out by the kid’s own battle-like cry to war. She didn’t notice when another person entered the classroom she was currently flopping around and writhing in.
One moment, Hex’s face was being bitten and kicked by a kid who had a surprising amount of strength, the next, there was a brief tug and she was free. The kid wasn’t removed, but rather, someone had kicked them off of her face. Hex was taken aback, completely shocked and horrified, nearly forgetting how the very child that collided with a nearby wall had suctioned cupped themself to her face and had tried (and nearly succeeded in) to take several chunks out of her poor, abused cheeks. Someone grabbed her underarms and helped her back to her feet.
“Are you okay?! Victor is such a little shit…” The young woman muttered under her breath as she helped steady a shell-shocked Hex, who could only blink and stammer unintelligibly.
“T-The- T-The k-kid…?” The woman scoffed and shook her head. Her short hair was mostly covered with a beanie that held it in place.
“Nah… Victor ain’t a kid, if you catch my drift. He and that sister of his are the killers of this trial. You’re lucky I was able to find you before she did.” After a moment of pause, the woman quickly added-
“Actually, we should probably move. Just in case she checks in here-” She pulled Hex along, who still was totally dumbfounded.
“W-Where did they go? Th-The kid…?” The woman waved off her question.
“Hey- Look, I’ll answer any question you got after we leave here alive. How’s that sound?” Hex nodded, still processing what the hell just happened to her. The woman turned to face Hex with a smile.
“I’m Nea, by the way.”
Nea, along with several other survivors that made sure she didn’t woefully misinform poor baby Hex, explained to her the new world she had found herself in. And… it definitely wasn’t great. The possibility of actually dying was terrifying, along with the various ways in which she could die in any given trial. The small child that she found, ‘Victor’... He was twins with a woman named Charlotte, who definitely would kill both Hex and Nea if she caught up with them. Especially after what Nea did to her brother… But for some reason, Hex couldn’t exactly blame either of them…
What if they were- or still are- as scared and confused as she is? And even if they weren’t… Hex still feels really, really bad for what happened to Victor! Sure, he latched himself onto her face and tried to rip it off, but Hex wasn’t mad about it! Maybe she came on too strong… Maybe she confused him! She is brightly coloured, after all… Nea punting him into the wall left a bad taste in Hex’s mouth… Wasn’t it a bit… excessive? It must have been terrifying and painful for Victor! And poor Charlotte, too! Oh… Hex can’t allow this to stand! She’s gotta make this right! …somehow. It’s not going to be easy, but she’s already made up her mind! It’s only a matter of time now until she figures out how to show the Twins that she means them no harm and that she doesn’t want to hurt either of them!
God, it was going to be a monumental undertaking, the likes of which Hex has never seen or experienced before in her entire life! She knew that she had her work cut out for herself, but the amount of times that she was mained, mauled, cut, stabbed in the shoulder and sacrificed to the Entity was unprecedented. Even other survivors were at a loss to the sheer number of times that Hex died and suffered injury in trial, even as a newbie survivor. Still… no one could deny that Hex was as stubborn as a mule and twice as durable…
Upon the next trial, Hex was told that it was highly unlikely that the Twins would be the next killer. They seemed to be two that were rarely seen in trials at all, let alone twice in succession. Yet in this trial, it was the Twins once more! Hex was excited while everyone else groaned in dread. She has a chance to make things right! It didn’t take long for her to find little Victor, scampering around while quietly muttering and growling to himself with his cute little arms close to his chest. Is he cold? Hex began to speak in a soft voice as she crouched down to his level.
“Hey little guy… I think we had a little… misunderstanding the last time we met.” She cooed. Victor suddenly turned to face her, his beady little eyes shining in the light as he narrowed them at her. Hex couldn’t help but to sweat, but she kept herself outwardly calm as she reached out to the little guy.
“Maybe we could-” Before Hex could finish what she was saying, Victor crouched down low. The words died in her throat as she tilted her head to the side, confused as to what he was even doing. When he suddenly went soaring through the air with a screech, she then knew that things had, once again, taken a wrong turn.
Victor was pried off by another survivor, in spite of Hex screaming over both Victor’s ear splitting war cries and her own cries of pain that “DON’T- I GOT HIM, I GOT HIM-!” No, she did not have him. Victor left deep scratches along Hex’s jawline, one that would vanish upon the trial’s completion but she would still feel the phantom pains of them long after they were gone. The others were sure this would deter her from going out of her way to make friends- most of them had fallen into the ‘there’s gotta be some humanity left in them’ line of thinking at least once, so they couldn’t really blame Hex… But if anything, this only made her more determined to make peace with the Twins.
Hex, again, tried to reach out to Victor. Not only did he pounce on her, but Charlotte found her before another survivor did. Only… she didn’t attack Hex. She merely watched for a few brief moments (that felt like an eternity to Hex as she was being mauled) before she called Victor back over to her and left a disoriented and winded Hex on the ground where she lay. This was something different! Charlotte didn’t attack her like everyone said she would! It’s gotta mean something, right?!
The next time, Hex found Charlotte first. The other woman wasn’t aware of her presence, not yet, anyway, and she still had Victor on her person. Literally. Hex wondered if it was painful when he would hop out of that hole in her torso… It had to, right? It looked painful, or at the very least upsetting to her, as she always placed a hand over where he once was and would look down as though lamenting his absence. It made Hex… sad. She frowned as she watched Charlotte stand around, seemingly lost without her twin brother’s hand in her own. Hex wanted to step out and speak to Charlotte… She wanted her to know that it would be okay- that Victor was a ridiculously strong little dude that has no trouble taking care of himself… But before she could even take a breath to speak out-
Victor tackled her from behind and latched onto her head.
This wasn’t working! Hex was beyond frustrated, yet this only made her more stubborn and determined to get her point across! If actions weren’t getting across and words were failing her, then Hex has no choice but to use her final, backup, super secret and failsafe plan to show the Twins exactly what her intentions were: She would give them gifts!
Flowers were the most obvious first choice. There were everywhere and many of the survivor’s offerings were flowers! Before she could get close enough to Charlotte to give them to her, however, Victor once again came to his sister’s defense and pounced on Hex before she could get too close to her. Okay… fine. What about Victor, himself?
It seemed to annoy him… or maybe he didn’t get the purpose of Hex waving flowers in between the two of them. Like a matador swinging red cloth in a bull’s face, Victor charged at her and proceeded to take a chunk out of her browline while screaming bloody murder. Or was it Hex that was screaming? It was a bust, so she abandoned the ‘flowers for peace’ endeavor she was on.
Chalk? Maybe they would like to draw with it! Victor bit her fingers when she presented it to him and Charlotte seemed to be like a deer in the headlights- unmoving, unwavering, not even acknowledging that Hex was presenting her a gift in her hands. Or was she just too shy to take it? Hex could have sworn that Charlotte had looked at the little bag in her hand for a split second before looking away, only to do a double take once Hex didn’t immediately run upon seeing her. They were so close to having a connection! Hex just knows it! But Charlotte ended up walking away, calling over a crouched and ready-to-pounce Victor who seemed to be lining up his sight to tackle Hex once more. But he didn’t! They might have left without taking her gift, but this is progress if she’s ever seen it! Hex has begun to get through to Charlotte… now she only needs to get little Victor to understand that she was friend and not foe… or food…
Hex asked for help, knowing full well that the other survivors wouldn’t really do much to help her. They made their stance very clear when it comes to the killers: ‘they worry about themselves and we worry about each other’. Still, when asked, advice was given and it was something that surprised her greatly. Sometimes, the Entity will gift survivors with things they desire. Some said they just thought of the items and would later find them in their pockets or in other places around the survivor’s camp. Others said they actually prayed to God for it and they received it. Whatever the case… Hex is desperate enough to try anything once….
So she prayed. And to her surprise…
The Entity answered.
It wasn’t something grand, but Hex had a feeling that what She answered would be something of interest to Victor and even perhaps to Charlotte as well. A little wooden figure of a princess, not exactly pretty or well carved, but strong and sturdy without being heavy or cumbersome. The paint was well worn and chipped but it was of little consequence, Hex thought. Something about the figure was familiar… but Hex still had a feeling that it wasn’t familiar to her. If that made any sense… It was a strange feeling, but one that she shook off as she became excited for the upcoming trial where she could give this to Charlotte and Victor.
For the first time in a while, Hex happened upon the Twins when they were still conjoined. Charlotte was already on edge and Victor was practically frothing at the mouth as he anticipated attacking Hex with his little teeth and sharp claws. Before Charlotte could set Victor down, Hex cried out-
“W-Wait!”
Charlotte instinctually held Victor close and took a step back while her brother squealed and screeched as he flailed in her grasp. Hex felt bad for making Charlotte and Victor so uncomfortable… All this time, they didn’t know that she was trying to make friends instead of hurting them in any way. She would have liked to make a special, grand gesture out giving them this gift, but Hex didn’t think it wise. So she carefully presented her closed hand, the head and legs of the princess figure sticking out of her closed fists.
Instantly, Victor was interested in what she had. Charlotte, though, was clearly on edge and untrusting of Hex and her intentions. She whispered quietly to Victor, who seemed to disregard what his sister said in favour of reaching out one of his small hands in Hex’s direction as he squealed in delight. She raised her other hand in a ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ sort of way.
“H-Hey-! It’s okay… I-I just want to give you both this…” Hex opened her hand to reveal the wood carving, which not only made Victor more excited, but it seemed to get Charlotte’s attention as well.
Hex didn’t know it, but Charlotte never really had any toys… She had a precious few that her mother made by hand, but Victor would always get jealous and mean when she would play with them. She didn’t really mind though. Victor was just… Victor. He was needy and loud and toys helped pacify him with nothing else would work. That little toy soldier of his, the one that their mother stole for him, became his absolute favorite. It’s one of the only things that remains of their past life. Of their mother… Charlotte was always a bit envious that Victor had this one little thing. She didn’t have anything like that… but Victor would share when she would get particularly sad. The little soldier was nice… but Charlotte wanted something else. She always wanted a cute little dolly of her own, and while what Hex had wasn’t exactly that….
It still was what Charlotte always wanted.
Charlotte shifted from foot to foot as she focused on the wooden princess. Victor incessantly tugged on his sister’s cheek as he pointed at Hex, crying out in frustration as his sister only stared at the figure longingly. Maybe she didn’t understand that she was giving it to them? Again, she presents the doll, this time smiling as she holds it out towards Charlotte and Victor.
Hex can tell that Charlotte so badly wants to reach out and take the figurine from her, but she’s still hesitating, uncertain and possibly a little frightened of the gesture Hex presented to her. So Hex decides to gently set the doll down on the ground and she takes a few steps back from it and the Twins. Hex pretty much expected that they wouldn’t go for the gift until she left… but to her surprise, Charlotte stepped forward and leaned down to scoop up the little toy in her dirt covered hand.
The look of wonderment on her face made all the failed attempts so, so worth it. Victor’s little fingers wrapped around his sister’s larger ones as she inspected the figure. It was too small for her… nearly too big for Victor, yet they both loved the little gift. Charlotte couldn’t believe that Hex was just… giving them the toy, but the strange woman didn’t even attempt to take it back from them, only smiling warmly as Victor moved the doll's arms and legs around while giggling to himself.
Both of the Twins were transfixed by the little toy she gave them. It didn’t immediately fix the tension between her and them, but now, whenever they saw her in a trial, they didn’t shy away from her or try to attack her! Victor approached Hex in a more friendly manner, not jumping on her face but rather attaching to her leg as she walked around the realm as she looked for his sister. Charlotte was still a little aloof around her, but she allowed Hex to approach her as she allowed Charlotte to take her brother off of her leg- or she tried to. Victor would hold on and dig his nails into Hex like he was a koala and her leg was a tree trunk!
But this was a good start, Hex thought. Charlotte would listen to her talk, Victor would babble enthusiastically in agreement or disagreement… The Twins even started to accept the other gifts that Hex failed to give them before! Charlotte still wouldn’t allow Victor to get too close to Hex… but she would allow her brother to hang around the other woman and play with her while observing them both closely. Charlotte has even begun to play with them both, too! It made Hex happy… She hoped that the three of them would get even closer as they got to know one another better…
@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine
#dead by daylight#dbd#dbd the twins#not my oc#hexheathen's oc#not a slash fic#paid commission#enemies to friends#light violence#canon typical violence
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"Where did you first hear about the word "aromantic"?
I went into the forest and lay on the ground until it got dark. The tree goblins slowly approached my unbreathing body. They watched me until a young one got the courage to throw a rock at me. Blood trickled down my face and into my mouth, and the Earth shook. My breath started. My eyes glowed. I was...aro.
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something something ... Stanford "Why didn't Rudolf just kill the other reindeer?" Pines and Fiddleford "I create death-mechas when my feelings get hurt" McGucket
#i like to imagine that stan has to be the one to bring these two nerds back down to earth when things get too out of hand#like hes all for “light violence” but THOSE TWO tend to take it to the extreme and he aint into all that lmao#i also like to imagine that mabel would be just as deranged as ford and fidds#<- literally screams “DEATH” as Blendin's punishment after Globnar so i think it would be in character for her lmao#not that the kids would actually flat out murder someone#but they'd probs end up planning one in excrutiating detail#to the point where stan has to be like “okay this is getting TOO REAL guys.. ”#gravity falls#gravity falls au#relativity falls#stanford pines#stanley pines#fiddleford mcgucket
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and now i know how joan of arc felt!
#god i can’t stop drawing them why is death note like. my muse#something something light gets to win but now L is really gone and it’s like. come back. it was just a game. i was only joking when i said#i’d like to mash every tooth in your head!!!#death note#light yagami#l lawliet#lawlight#yotsuba arc#bigmouth strikes again#the smiths#<- begrudgingly#i miss you rain scene….#tw implied violence#comic#(sort of)#my art#my art 2024
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#death note#light yagami#l lawliet#lawlight#so this is a redraw of an ancient sketch i've wanted to redo for a while now#occasionally someone will like or reblog the original#and if they're enjoying it good for them#but it shames me greatly#so this is my second attempt#although i'm not sure i actually fixed much 😅#cw: blood#cw: violence
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Falling Into Me
Main Masterlist
Read on A03!
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Smut (p in v, fingering, oral f receiving), angst, loss of virginity, light fluff, feelings :(, real bad self-image issues
Summary/Warnings: You're a virgin, and it's really not a big deal. Everyone was a virgin once. You're just a virgin longer. Maybe forever, because nobody really seems to be willing to solve that problem for you.
You've never told Sam and Dean, and you don't have any intention to. Ever. But when a hunt goes wrong, Dean finds out. And he might have been keeping something from you as well.
Author's Note: This might be the horniest thing I've ever written. Enjoy <3!
Title from Red Wine Supernova by Chappell Roan
Word Count: 8.9k
You haven’t slept in three days, and it’s starting to be a problem. But you can’t afford to sleep. You can only drink staler and staler coffee, sit at the motel table, and pretend this is a case that, somehow, you’re going to solve. That Dean isn’t grumpier than usual, and Sam doesn’t constantly look like he’s going to kill the next person that dares to have an incorrect idea. It’s why you volunteered for the next round of interviews. You don’t want to be there when one of them snaps and kills the other, and while you wouldn’t love to return to the room and find it covered in blood, at least then you’d have an excuse to call it.
You wouldn’t call it. You’d work the case until it was done, because that’s what you do. And Sam and Dean won’t kill each other, because they’re Sam and Dean. That said, you are expecting a pouting Dean to pacing back and forth outside the room as he waits for you to return, and a grumble about how Sammy said he was being annoying and needed to walk it off. You’re more than prepared to give him a sympathetic smile and ask him if he was being annoying. And he’ll probably protest that he wasn’t, and you’ll raise your brows, and he’ll admit he mighta been drumming really loud while eating the chips.
It’s not an unreasonable expectation. None of you have slept, because this thing is insane. There’s no obvious pattern to the victims, no connections, nothing in line with everything you’ve ever seen. It’s men and woman, a wide age range, no previous coflicts or knowledge of each other in life. There are holes through theirs chests that could be bullet wounds, but obviously aren’t, because Bullets don’t remove the heart from the body. But it’s not werewolves, because werewolves aren’t clean killers like this and every fucking person in this stupid town has passed the silver test. There’s a new kill every night, and a new body every morning, and another reason for you, Sam, and Dean to start screaming every day. Every hour makes you all wired, because it’s closer and closer to another evening where you won’t have caught this asshole and another person will die.
And it’s become really easy to get on each other’s nerves. Sam was mad at Dean because he’d purposefully gotten you all burgers instead of Sam’s rabbit food, you’re mad at Sam because he said you were bad at poker—and you are, but what the fuck—and Dean’s mad at you because-
Dean’s not mad at you. You and Dean don’t really get mad at each other. You understand each other, better than you’ve ever understood anyone else, and it’s the perfect amount of alike that you’ll lend him grace you wouldn’t lend anyone else—including yourself—but you don’t see enough of your own twisting, molding innards to hate him. You mostly see something better. A man that has all the same rotting parts, but has made something out of them while you just waste away in toxins.
And you think Dean sees something similar in you. It’s why you’d been obnoxiously chewing potato chips, right in his ear, and he hadn’t punched you or snatched the bag away from your hands. He’d just rolled his eyes, grabbed one of his own, and started chewing in Sam’s ear.
So you hadn’t really volunteered for interviews so much as been aggressively told by Sam you were doing interviews. And it was only fair Dean met the same fate.
But he hadn’t. And when you opened the door to the room, they both looked happy.
Dean practically shouts your name when he sees you, wildly gesturing for you to join them at the table. “Sammy found it!” He grins at you almost manically, and it’s a little adorable. “We can finally fucking leave.”
“I might have found it,” Sam corrects, his smile a little more tentative, but still real. “And we can’t leave yet. Not until we actually get the thing-“
“Obviously, dude, but that’ll be soon, instead of in a million years.” Dean looks to you for agreement. “I mean, c’mon. You guys can’t really wanna stay in hicktown Ohio forever?”
You shrug. “I dunno. Good coffee.”
Dean glares at you. “The coffee tastes like ass and you freakin’ know it-“
“Dean.” You give him a flat look. “Do I actually get to know what the monster is?”
Sam sighs. “You’re not gonna like it.”
“I already don’t love it, it’s a monster that’s killed like, ten people-“
“Worse than that.” Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “It’s sorta like a dragon.”
You, very suddenly, don’t feel really well. Everything is hotter than it had been a second ago, and the walls seem to be closing in as your skin begins to prickle and ache. “Like a dragon?” You ask, forcing your voice to remain steady. “Or a dragon?”
“Like a dragon. Tell her, Sammy.”
Sam shoots Dean a glare—not happy being thrown under the bus—and mutters, “It’s a unicorn.”
You stare at him for a long minute, then shake your head. “It’s a what.”
“Unicorn.” Sam mumbles. “They’re, uh, looks like they’re real.”
“But not Pinky Pie and Disney.” Dean adds, turning Sam’s laptop for you to read. “Real fucking assholes.”
“They hunt virgins.” Sam explains. “To bond with. And it’ll kill anyone who falsely lures it.”
“Stab the poor son of a bitch right through the heart, then pull that sucker right out.” Dean adds, spreading his legs and propping his elbows on his knees. “And it looks like it’ll go after chicks and dudes, any age, so that’s why there’s no pattern. You’re able to fuck, you’re fair game.”
“Oh, cool.” You mutter, a lump starting to form in your throat. “I’m always looking for equal opportunity murderers in the monsters I hunt.”
“Yeah, well, it’s gonna make it a little harder to find the thing.” Sam grabs his laptop back, frowning at the screen. “It’ll take a human form, then look for a virgin. And it won’t be able to tell until it gets the person’s heartbeat up, so it might be a guy or a girl, depending on who it’s hunting tonight.”
“But,” you glance at Dean, who’s grinning as you start to put it together. “It is hunting tonight.”
“Hunts every night.” Dean says, rubbing his hands together. “And we don’t know where, but we can take some guesses. Split up and look at all the bars in town ’till one of us finds something, then gank this douchebag and get the hell out of here.”
“Split up?” You whisper, something wired and flailing coiling around your guts. “That’s, um, shouldn’t we stick together? If it’ll go after anyone?”
“Not everyone.” Same shrugs. “Low, uh, body counts. I guess. Low enough that it can’t tell immediately.”
“So we just need a bunch of whores?"
Dean snorts. “Well tonight,” he spreads his arms, shooting you a wink that really isn’t helpful right now. “We’re the whores, Sweetheart. We’re safe, and we’re going to kick some unicorn ass.”
It’s a cheesy, stupid thing to say, and usually you’d laugh and crack a joke back. Something about unicorn ass and whores that you can’t really think of right now, because there’s bile in your throat and something heavy fogging over your brain.
“How do we, uh,” your tongue is numb in your mouth, and every word is dragged out of your throat. “How do we kick a unicorn’s ass.”
“Well, we’re looking for electrical malfunctions, golden eyes when it gets, uh, excited, and a refusal to drink anything but water.” Sam frowns at the screen, looking up at you with a half-shrug. “Anything amoral seems to knock it down, so just, uh, swear? Then shoot it with iron. Iron kills it.”
“And, um,” you swallow, tugging at the fabric of your sleeves. “What’s gonna to the virgin? If the unicorn finds it?”
Sam sighs. “They, uh, they seem to use them.”
Dean frowns, leaning around to try and read the screen. “Use them-“
“Their purity. Use their purity.” Sam raises his brows, and you can see the exact moment it clicks in Dean’s head.
“That’s...” Dean trails off, running a hand over his face. “Shit.”
Sam mutters an agreement, and your mouth feels like sandpaper, your heart beating like it’s trying to escape your chest.
“And after?” You whisper, a little unsure you want to actually ask the question, or know the answer. “After they’re used?”
“Well, they’re not ‘pure’ anymore.” Sam puts an air quote around pure, and you feel a little sick. “So, uh, stab.”
“Oh.” You nod slowly. You might need to lie down. “Stab.”
Dean looks over you with a drawn brow, his voice low and cautious as he says your name. “Are feelin’ okay-“
“I’m fine.” You remember how to smile, and hope it looks real. Not like your teeth are starting to feel out of place in your mouth, and you can’t seem to find enough spit to choke on. “Let’s get the unicorn ass.”
Dean doesn’t look convinced. Hell, Sam doesn’t look convinced. But they both let it go for now, and you can breathe just a little easier knowing you’re not barreling towards a fight.
But only a little easier.
Because you’re fucked.
Virginity is a funny thing. It’s just a social construct, but it’s a social construct some monsters seem to take as scripture, making it a hazardous thing to still have in your line of work.
And you hadn’t meant to be a hazard. It just kind of happened. Because it started as something that was a given to have, then turned into something that you just were a little too busy to lose, before becoming an awkward conversation you’re not willing to have. Something that hangs, silent and sharp, over your head and around your throat. Something that’s now a question of why? Why is it never you? You’re not ugly. You’re even pretty enough that, if you tell someone, they won’t believe you and it’ll all feel worse. You’re even pretty enough that you’ve seen people size you up at bars, but none of them ever approach you.
So it might just be you. You might just have something on your face that gives away that you’re more trouble than you’re worth, a little too rough to touch and not have it sting, telling people stay away.
And Sam and Dean will never know. You’re already a little younger, a little worse of a hunter, a small problem when they’re obviously trying to take someone to their bed but the girl sees you and makes quick and inaccurate assumptions. Sam is better at brushing them off—She’s like my little sister—but Dean gets red and awkward and suddenly loses all his well-practiced charm. He sulks back to the table, and won’t look you in the eyes for an hour or walk with you back to the bar. You’re honestly shocked neither of them have thrown you to the curb by now, an you’re not going to give them another reason to. Another reason for Sam to make a sad, puppy-eyed pity face and Dean to stare at you like he’s not sure you’re real. Like there’s no way someone could’ve possibility survived as a hunter like this.
And a small, well-contained part of you wishes Dean would look at you the way he looks at other women. Like they still have beautiful, horrible secrets that he’d love to uncover with only his hands and mouth.
You’ve got secrets. Dean can’t have them—because they’re a liability and you’re not looking to lose him forever—but you really wish he’d just look at you. Once, really look at you, and not see you. See something so much better, that you think he’s always a little close to finding, that nobody else ever seems willing to try and look for.
You’re a little grateful they left you alone in this backwater dive bar. It would hurt to watch Dean flirt right now, when everything feels raw and wired in your body, and every time someone drops next to you at the bar you feel more and more sick. There are quick, polite conversations with random strangers who sound like they’d rather be anywhere than here, with you, and by the time you’ve repeated your cover story for the eighth time your lungs are wrapped iron and your nails feel like a burden on your fingers.
It’ll be over by tonight. All three of you know what you’re looking for, so the unicorn will be dead before sunrise, and you won’t have to do any explanations about why you’ve been quiet and tense since Dean said like a dragon. Nobody will look at you with pity or confusion, nobody will get hurt, and you won’t end up with a hole in your heart as the only people that have ever seen you to be worth something realize just how wrong they were. That you’re really just a small, useless burden that even a literal monster wouldn’t be able to stomach the presence of-
“You here all by yourself?”
Something sparks in your gut at the voice, coming from off to the side, because for a second you really think it’s Dean. It’s deep, moves through your whole body, and knocks loose something in your lower gut that always makes you feel hungry, but it’s not Dean. When you turn, the man next to you looks like someone ran Dean through a printer too many times and he came out faded. A little too short, not quite as broad, all the pretty scars that make Dean Dean seemingly vanished, and a gleam in his eyes that Dean’s never had. It’s a little more feral, without any playfulness or glowing shadows. Too much yellow instead of green, the cocky smirk just a little off, none of it right. None of it Dean.
“I’m, um,” you frown, because this man even smells like Dean. “I’m waiting for a friend. He’s running late.”
Not-Dean clicks his tongue. “Shame, leaving a pretty girl like you all alone. You want some company until your boyfriend shows up?”
You shake your head, turning your glass around in your hand. “Not my boyfriend. And I’m actually…” You trail off, your eyes falling on the man’s own glass. The clear liquid inside. “You drinking vodka?”
“Am I- Oh, sure.” The man chuckles, raising his drink for you to click. “Here’s to not-boyfriends-“
“Can I have some?”
You watch the man carefully as he looks between you and the glass. “Nah, sweetie, you don’t want this, it’s some strong stuff-“
Sweetie. Not sweetheart. Not Dean, not right, not safe. And something is starting to crawl over your skin and shoot up your spine, making you sit a little taller as your heart pounds louder and louder.
As Not-Dean licks his lips, and scans over you with yellow eyes that might be shining.
Fuck.
“I, um, I’m gonna go call my friend.” You start to shift off your seat, pulling your phone slowly out of your pocket. “He should’ve been here a few minutes ago, and I’m worried-“
“C’mon, you haven’t even told me your name.” Not-Dean wiggles his brows, and it looks wrong on his face. “Bet I can guess, if you give me a hint-“
“No, it’s fine, my name is, uh…” you look down at your phone, the screen completely black. You’d charged it before you left.
“Your name?” Not-Dean prompts, grabbing your arm. Holding you near him, at the bar. “I’d really love to learn it. I could teach you a few things in exchange-“
“I was never given a name!” Your voice is a frantic shout, Not-Dean’s eyes narrow, and you do the only thing you can think of. Punch Not-Dean square in the face, yank your arm from his grip, and run. Fucking sprint out of the bar and not allow yourself to falter as you hear a roar that’s a little hoarse and off pitched. Like a horse keen. Like a wounded animal.
Like a monster.
Splitting up had been a terrible fucking idea. Now you’re alone, you don’t have even an idea where Sam and Dean are, and you can’t afford to stop and jack a car because you can hear it in the distance. Hooves, clapping against the pavement, getting closer and closer as you begin to run out of breath. You can’t hide, it can hear you, and you can’t go faster because you already feel faint and everything is beginning to collapse in your body. Muscles tightening and skin crawling and eyes pushing out of your skull, every breath too shallow and every step too short.
You fall to your knees behind a truck, wrapping a hand around your own throat and trying to force your heartbeat back down. Slow, even breathes that come out in choked gasps, nails digging into your skin as the hooves slow, and you hear a low sputtering sound from somewhere behind you.
And it’s too quiet. You can’t hear anything but your blood in your ears, and all you can see in the night is the flickering yellow light of a streetlamp in the distance. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow every breath, hoping you can force yourself out before the unicorn finds you. You don’t want to be used. You don’t want to be alone. You just want Dean, where’s Dean, why the fuck did you let him leave you alone, why didn’t you tell him the truth, why can’t you think of anything else but Dean, where’s Dean-
There’s something hot on your neck, and a large presence at your side. Something like spit is being splattered on your neck, and you can’t contain the vomit when a too-rough hand trails up your arm-
“Get the fuck back, you son of a bitch!”
A loud bang cuts through the air—making you jump out of your skin as a heavy body slumps onto yours—and it sounds like church bells and music. It sounds like Dean. That’s his voice shouting your name, his arms wrapping around your body and carrying you away from the unicorn, his breath fanning over your face as he sits you on the curb and starts to turn your face in his hands.
“Fuck, never should’ve left you, but I didn’t-“ Dean cuts himself off with a huff, and you think he’s talking to himself more than you. “Did the asshole touch you anywhere I can’t see?”
You shake your head, keeping your eye glued shut as you curl your hands in Dean’s shirt. Maybe Dean’s shirt. Not-Dean had been wearing plaid too, and you don’t have the nerve or will to open your eyes and seen if it’s your Dean, or the cheap unicorn knockoff.
“Shit, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Sam’s on his way, but we gotta get you out of here-“
“Didn’t touch me.” You whisper, fighting every urge into your body to curl forwards and start sobbing weak and pointless apologies. “I’m okay.”
“You’re okay? You think, fuck-“ Dean’s arm—bigger, warmer, maybe actual Dean—loops around your waist, his voice a little closer to your ear. “Need you to hold onto me, got it? We’re goin’ back to the car, and you gotta, fuck, can you open your damn eyes?”
They fly open, almost on command, and it’s Dean. The smell of whiskey is stronger, more authentic, and his face is sharp in all the right places, and it’s really Dean.
And he looks pissed. His touch on your body is careful, and his eyes are attentive and sparked with worry, but his jaw is clenched, and his every word is suddenly pushed through his teeth.
“You’re gonna hold onto me.” He orders, holding your wide-eyed gaze with a glower. “I’ll take a better look at you when we get back to the room-“
“Dean, I’m fine-“
“And,” Dean barrels on, as if he didn’t even hear you. “We’re going to have a chat. You’re, I can’t-” he shakes his head scooping you fully into his arms. “Just hold on.”
He sounds pissed. Dean’s rigid and silent the whole ride back to the hotel, his grip white-knuckled and tight on the wheel, and you feel even worse than before. This is it. He had to save you, and he’s going to learn why he had to save you, and he might not kick you out but he won’t look at you the same again. No more ease or awe or comfort or understanding, because Dean’s rotten in places where the mold can be burned away with every good part of him, but you’re just rotten. Just a hideous thing that roars in your chest, just angry and cowardlyand revolting and wrong. You’re just wrong.
All the panic and paralyzing adrenaline had left your body, so you push yourself out of the Impala on unsteady feet. Dean mutters something about Sam dealing with all the cleanup as he opens to motel room door, watching you shuffle inside with clenched fists and an unreadable expression. You flop onto the bed with a small whine, your body beginning to drown in exhaustion, your gaze locked on the peeling paint of the ceiling as Dean moves around the room out of your view.
“Why’d you come back?” You ask, your voice hoarse and weak, and Dean lets out a long, low exhale from somewhere off to the side.
“You were actin’ really weird.” He grunts. “Didn’t sound like yourself. Weren’t laughing at my jokes, or making fun of Sam. Looked sick every time one of us said stab.”
“I could’ve just been-“
“Don’t.” He snaps, and you crane your neck to see him at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and looking at you. Dean seems to be really looking at you, all of you, and you suddenly really wish he would stop. You’re complete exposed below him, under his glare, and he’s going to see something he hates. Something you don’t have a name for that you’ve never wanted him to see, never wanted him to find. The thing that makes everyone else look away.
But Dean’s attention is like a drug, and you need him to stop before you lose him, but you also never want him to stop watching you. It’s confusing and raw and makes you feel like a live wire, one word or touch or stare away from snapping and bursting into a million sparks.
And Dean’s still looking at you.
“I didn’t,” you swallow, his eyes like a magnet on yours. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry-“
“Don’t.” He repeats, his voice lower. Harsher. “You’re not injured.”
You shake your head.
“Good. We need to talk.”
“Dean, I-“
“I’m asking the questions.” Dean leers over you slightly, and you nod again. “Why the fuck did that unicorn seem like it was hunting you.”
He knows the answer. His whole face is already painted in anger, and you know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it.
“Because it was hunting me.”
“Unicorns only hunt virgins.” Dean grunts your name, still not looking away. “You’re not-“
“I am.” You mumble, folding your arms over your own body as you drop back down onto the mattress. “Sorry.”
“Why would you say, fuck- Why in goddamn hell wouldn’t you tell me and Sam-“
“Tell you and Sam what?” You scowl at the ceiling. “That I’m untouched? Pure? Boring-“
“That you’d be in danger!” Dean all but roars, and you don’t flinch, but you do cringe. All the mold in your body feels as if it’s spreading like cancer, because Dean would never hurt you with his hands, but he might be about to curb stomp your heart with only his mouth. “I don’t give a shit about the virgin thing, I care that you were so fucking stupid to go off alone, that you didn’t trust me enough-“
“It’s not about trust, Dean,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. “And it’s not like you tell me everything-“
“I do! I’ve told you about all the shit in my past, and my fear of flying, and Rhonda Hurley, and that weird freaking dream I had with the mice in top hats-“
“That’s not the same!” You’re pushing back up on your palms, raising your voice to match Dean’s. You just need him to stop yelling at you, to rip the band-aid off and finally give up on you so you can rest. “This isn’t your business-“
“It’s my business if it’s gonna get you fucking killed, Sweetheart. And I coulda helped you-“
“Helped me?” You scoff. “I don’t need your help with this, Winchester, I’ve come to terms with it-“
There was a brief moment where Dean had looked like you’d kicked him, but it vanishes in a second as he gapes at you in disbelief. “To terms with virginity?”
“Yeah,” you shrug, holding his suddenly slack expression with your own glare. “Nobody wants me, it’s not a big deal-“
Dean snorts. “There’s no damn way you’re that stupid-“
“I am not stupid-“
“Yeah? Cause you’re a fucking idiot if you think nobody wants you.”
It’s your turn to gape at him. Your heart stumbles slightly in your chest, your fingers curling into bedsheets, and the world begins to spin as you try and understand his words. “What?”
“You,” Dean takes a firm step forward, drawing your name. “Are a fucking idiot if you think that there’s not one damn person on the planet who wants you.”
“But-“
“Nah. No freakin’ buts.” He’s closer now, his knees bumping yours as he glowers down at you. “I’ve watched too many hair-gelled losers at bars size you up like they wanna take a bite for you to have buts. Hell, I’ve-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “Shit, there’s just, there’s no way-“
Your face twists back into a scowl. “Fuck off, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you believe me-“
“Oh, I believe you, Sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring as a low groan leaves his chest, rolling through the air and settling between your legs in an aching heat. “And I finally fucking get it. You just, you have no idea. I thought you just didn’t want it, but you’re just- Shit-“
“Dean,” your voice is soft, a little breathless, and can’t help but rub your thighs together as his hands start to flex at his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“
“I know,” he mutters, scanning over your body with an almost predatory expression. “I’m not, I just gotta,” his gaze flies back to yours, his voice suddenly stern. “Sam tell you how the unicorn choses its form?”
You blink. “Wha-“
“It takes the form that will be most appealing to the target. To help the asshole get attention quickly. That unicorn,” his voice drop, deeper than you’ve ever heard it, and it takes all the will you have to not start fall back into in the sheets. “Looked kinda like me.”
“I, um, I don’t-“
“Do you want me?” Dean grunts your name, and you make the mistake of dropping your gaze down, to his pants. To where an impressive outline is straining against his jeans.
“I’d, I mean, I’m not-“ You swallow, everything a dizzying haze of Dean. “Yeah, I think, but you’re not-“
“I’m not what?” He growls, kneeling down to your eye level, trailing a slow hand up your thigh. “Not interested?”
“Yeah?”
“Wrong.” Dean’s hand moves higher, trailing closer and closer to your center before running back down to your knee. “So incredibly wrong, Sweetheart. I’ve wanted you since, fuck, since I first saw ya’. But you didn’t seem to want me, so I backed off, but if you just didn’t-“ He pauses, his brilliant green eyes suddenly tearing into your soul, unraveling you before he’s even touched bare skin. “Do you? Want me?”
“I already said-“
“You said yeah.” He mutters, rubbing his hand is a slow pattern on your knee. “Need you to say the full thing, before I do anything else.”
Dean’s face is suddenly softer, with something that aches and tugs on your own heart shining through his eyes, and you couldn’t lie to him if you tried. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to Dean. It feels cruel, and wrong, and as if you’d be denying yourself something so good and rare it will never be replicated if you walk away now.
“I want you,” you whisper. “I’ve wanted you. But I’m not, it’s not going to be good for you. I mean, I know how to take care of that,” you point to the bulge in his pants, pressed slightly against your calf as he crouches before you, and Dean frowns. “But I’ve never, um, you know-“
“You’re not takin’ care of anything.” He says, scanning over your open face with drawn brows. “We’re doing this, it’s gonna be about you.”
“Oh.” There’s a little drool falling out of your mouth, Dean reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, and your voice becomes a squeak. “Okay.”
“If you really wanna,” his mouth curves into a smirk, and you need it on yours now. “Next time, I’ll let you go to town on Little Dean.”
You can’t stop the small giggle escaping your lips, and it turns into a full laugh as Dean’s own grin grows, and nothing really feels that bad anymore. “Little Dean?”
“Compared to the rest of me, yeah.” Dean does a loose gesture at his broad, strong body, his grin growing cocky. Hungry. Starved. “But trust me, gorgeous. Ain’t nothing little about him.”
Your eyes widen, your thighs rubbing together as the need for him becomes almost unbearable, and Dean lets out a deep, low chuckle.
“You want me, babygirl?”
You nod, and Dean’s eyes narrow as he squeezes his hand on your leg.
“Need you to say it-“
“Yeah.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”
A grin splits over Dean’s handsome face, and his hand drifts to your stomach, his eyes never leaving yours as he drawls your name. “I’m gonna need to get you ready, so just,” he pushes you slightly, and you fall flat on your back, moving your own hands to hold his against you. “Stay there, look pretty, and let me work.”
You nod, your vision already a little blurred with desire as you stare at the ceiling. Dean draws back, shuffling around at the edge of the bed, and you look up to see his shirt gone. It’s all warm, slightly golden and freckled skin, strong and soft in all the right places. His muscles flex as he takes a long, deep breath, and big, calloused hands lowering to trace over your midriff, his eyes never leaving yours.
“What’d I say about stayin’ there-“
“I, um,” you gasp a little as his hand slips under your shirt, bunching the material and starting to slowly pull it over your chest. “I’ve done other stuff. Just so you know. And I’ve done things to myself-“
“I bet you have,” Dean mutters, wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you carefully against him as he helps you out of your clothing. “Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so damn beautiful. Can’t wait to taste you, touch you, fucking ruin you-“
You let out a high, needy moan, burying your face in his neck and mumbling against his skin. “Please, Dean, just-“
You cut yourself off with a gasp as his free hand slips into your pants, cupping your pussy over the fabric of your underwear and rubbing back and forth so torturously slow you might fly out of your skin.
“So wet for me already,” he grunts, tugging on your hair until you lean back, meeting his gaze. “Ready?”
You’re not sure what you need to be ready for, but as long as it’s Dean doing it, you’re good. You nod, wrapping your arm around his neck in silent affirmation, and Dean pulls back to pop open the button of your jeans with a single hand, offering himself easier access.
Two broad fingers toy with the hem of your panties, Dean’s eyes almost glittering as his attention falls to where he’s touching you. Watching your body shiver when he glides his thumb over your clothed slit, your hips jerk when he presses down on your clit, your legs stretch as wide as they can when he starts to rub small circles against you.
“Dean,” you whine, your free hand moving to cup his jaw, trying to move his gaze back to yours. “Please, shit-“
“That feel good, babygirl?” Dean starts to quicken his movements, adding small, teasing flicks and pinches that make your eyes roll back in your head. “You like me teasin’ you? Playin’ this pretty fuckin’ pussy until you’re soaked- Fuck-“
You start to grind on Dean’s hand, trying to chase relief while showing him that he didn’t need to play with or tease you. He has you, unraveled on his fingers and desperate for more of him, all of him, whatever he can offer you that will feel like this-
“Shit, you’re dripping.” Dean’s movement on your clit still as he drags his thumb down, resting right over your aching, already sensitive cunt, and pressing into you just enough to make you whimper. “I gotta taste you, Sweetheart, c’mon.”
His gaze shoots back to yours, something a little animalistic in his low, hoarse voice that almost makes you cum on the spot. “Need you hold on, pretty girl, we’re gonna get you out’a these.”
You nod, letting Dean lay you back down on the mattress, lifting your hips as he drags your jeans off your body, taking your underwear with them. Leaving to totally, completely naked on the bed. Vulnerable, entirely at his mercy, with not another place you’d wish to be in the world.
Dean crawls slightly over you, one of his hands tracing up your stomach, palming at your breasts, then rolling your nipple between two, rough, expert fingers. You gasp, arching slightly off the bed, and a low, deep groan rolls from Dean’s chest.
“Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You’re,” Dean cuts himself off, dropping his mouth to your other breast and latching plump, slightly chapped lips around your nipple. Your vision starts to line with light that might be angels coming to take you away, because this has to be heaven. This is better than heaven. Heaven wouldn’t allow such sinful things as Dean groaning against your skin, his boner pressing into your thigh, or his hand kneading at your ass. Someone shouldn’t be allowed to feel this good. This feels like everything, and blissfully nothing, and mostly just Dean.
You must have moaned his name, because he crashes up, fisting a hand in your hair as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. All teeth and spit and burning need. Dean tastes like coffee and whiskey and syrup and fruit when he shoves his tongue down your throat, and he smells like gunpowder and leather as his weight hold you easily down, and his lips are so soft but so demanding as he practically devours you, and you’re high. He’s not even inside you yet and you’ll never have enough. This isn’t more than what you’ve done before, but Dean’s ruined you with just teasing touches and wet, starved kisses, and you’re starting to worry you might ascend when he actually fucks you.
He starts to kiss and suck a line over your jaw, down your neck, and between your breasts. It’s heavy and wanting, but still so carefully coordinated. Every move Dean makes seems to be calculated, because he nips at your collarbone right as he tugs on your hair, and the sound that leaves you is high and undignified and exactly what he wanted. His chuckle rumbles in his chest—now pressed against your stomach—and all you can do is moan as he continues his perfect torture. Licking one nipple as he pinches the other, dragging two fingers through your folds as he kisses down the plane of your stomach, stopping right at the apex of your thighs with glittering eyes and firm hands, slowly guiding your legs open.
“Shit.” He mutters, warm breath right over your pussy, making your hips jerk slightly. “Goddamn, baby, you’re responsive.“ A wide, smug grin overtakes Dean’s face as he pushes one finger into your pussy, and you squeak. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He growls your name, and starts to pump that finger in and out, the pace so slow and almost painfully good. “God, you have fucking idea how long- How bad-“ Dean groans as you squeeze around him, and adds another finger. “You’re making such pretty sounds, babygirl, better than I ever imagined. Shit, you’re sexier than a fucking dream.”
His eyes drift back to yours, and shiver goes up your spine from how Dean’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Watching your writhe in the sheets and plead for him in weak gasps, watching you at your most vulnerable state, and grinning like he loves what he sees. Like he’s never seen anything better.
“Dean,” you gasp as his fingers pick up speed, starting to scissor inside your dripping cunt, bumping against a tender spot inside of you that seems to sing under his touch. “Oh my god, Dean, please-“
“Such pretty sounds,” Dean grins at you, crooking his fingers against that same spot to rub. “Let’s see if we can make some more.”
Without further warning Dean drops back down, latches his lips onto your clit, and sucks it right into his mouth like candy. It’s almost immediate, how he pulls you from warm pleasure to raw, almost feral desperation. You’re right on the edge, grinding on his face as his stubble burns your inner thighs in the best was possible, his tongue flicking over that pulsing bundle of nerves, his fingers reaching a demanding and brutal pace-
“Fuck, I’m-“ You let out a loud moan as Dean growls against you, pulling at his short, soft hair to try and both move him away as you dangle over the drop, and urge him on to let him catch you when you fall. “Close, Dean, I’m close, please-“
He pulls away, and you almost scream from the loss. You even force yourself up to glare at him, but you’ve barely gotten a steady balance when a high, needy breath escapes you at the sight of him.
Dean’s towering over you, his pants discarded into another corners of the room, stroking his massive, fully-erect cock in one hand as he scans over your sweaty, flushed body.
“I wanna fuck you dumb, babygirl.” He grunts, and you can’t really hear him your own Dean-addled brain, so you just gape and moan, and he chuckles. “Shit, looks like we’re already halfway there. You got any words for me-“
“Dean, please.” The words start to fall out of your mouth with the slight drool on your chin, almost as if he’d commanded them. “Please, I need you, need you so bad-“
You spread your legs in offering, and Dean groans. “Fuck, Sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He closes his eyes, running a hand over his face, and there’s a moment before he speaks again where you worry you’ve ruined it. That you’d shown too much, or Dean saw too much, but no matter what this is over before you can even get that huge, glorious cock inside of you-
“I’m sorry-“
Dean frowns, his brow drawn as he looks down at you. “What the hell are you sorry for.”
“I dunno, I’m just not-“ You swallow. “I’m not good at this, I don’t know what to say-“
He grunts your name, prowling over your body under your trapped between his strong body and the bed, unable to escape his intense, searing gaze. Looking at you, examining you, and not flinching or moving away. “You,” he says, tracing one gentle hand over your cheekbones. “Are fuckin’ amazing at this.”
You can only gape at him, so he keeps going.
“I’m the one that might fuck this up, Sweetheart. You’re so,” he makes a loose gesture to your body, and you really wish he’d use words, but the look of sheer awe in his eyes will be enough for now. “And I get to do this for you, and I’m not trying to blow my load before you even cum once.”
“I almost came.” You offer him a small smile, your fingers tracing over the sharp line of his jaw. “But you stopped me.”
He lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’m plannin’ to make that up to you. If you still-“
“I want it.” You cut him off quickly, rolling your hips up, right against his cock. “Please, Dean, I really want it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping a little further down. “Are you-“
“I’m sure.” You guide Dean’s lips back to yours in a soft, almost sweet kiss, and say the words you really hope will snap whatever leash he’s put on himself. “I want you.”
It works. Something flashes in Dean’s eyes, and his hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and rolling it in slow circles as he growls in your ear.
“Wanna feel you, babygirl. Fuck you raw. I’m clean, but if you want me to grab a rubber you’re gonna need to keep yourself going while I-“
“No!” You almost yelp, wrapping your arms around him in a desperate attempt to keep him above you. “I mean, I’m clean too, obviously, and I take birth control just for like, lady stuff-“
Dean raises his brows at you. “Lady stuff?”
“It kinda helps with period cramps and-“ You cut yourself off with a moan as Dean flicks your clit, tossing your head back you start to squirm, trying to catch him into you. “Fuck, Dean, please just fuck me-“
“You mean like this?” Dean guides the head of his cock inside you, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Fuck ya’ like this, baby?”
You grind on him, scratching at his back as you plead. “Shit, that’s, Dean that’s good, more-“
“More, baby? You need more already?” His grin is shit-eating, and you’d hit him if the dark look of lust in his eyes, the baritone of his voice being several octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it, and the throbbing ache of him starting to split you open wasn’t rending your limbs only putty in his arms.
“Dean, please-“
You might stop breathing as Dean guides himself fully into you, settling his face in your neck as he bottoms out. There’s a long moment where it’s only Dean’s warmth over and inside you as he gives you time to adjust, groaning against your skin as you squeeze around him.
“Shit, Sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He kisses right behind your ear. “Feel, fuck, feel so good around my cock, so fuckin’ good-“ He emphasizes his words with one, short thrust that pushes him right against that one spot and makes you whine. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to pound this tight little pussy until you cum all over my cock-“
You almost yank him back down into a desperate, borderline feral kiss, because if he kept talking you might have cum from just the sound of his low, rough voice growling in your ear and rumbling in your chest.
Dean takes a long, ragged breath when he pulls away, and you roll your hips only once. Just enough for him to groans and fall back over you, kissing and sucking on your skin like he thinks you’ll vanish if he doesn’t mark you with his touch.
Then he starts to move, and you were right. This is heaven. Dean’s moving so slow, pulling almost all the way out before driving back inside, until you’re fully impaled on him—his cock pressed fully against that one spot, making your whole body feel warm and alight, and your head feel a little dizzy—then repeating the movement again. And again. Over and over, so fucking slow, still leaving softer, slightly uneven kisses along your collarbone and grunts against your skin but-
“Dean,” you gasp his name, your nails digging into the muscles of his broad back as he continues to move on you. “Fuck, Dean, go faster, please-“
He rises up to meet your eyes, an unreadable expression on his face that’s made entirely hunger and want, but edged with something a little stronger you don’t understand. “You sure-“
“Yes.” You’re practically whining, scratching at Dean’s skin as you squirm under him, desperate him to really, properly fuck you. “Please, Dean, feels so good, need more, need you-“
He shakes his head slightly. “Don’t wanna hurt you-“
“Not gonna-” you let out a breathy moan as Dean pushes back into you, the movement a little harsher than before, and so fucking good. “You won’t hurt me, please, Dean, fuck-“
“I’m-“
“You said,” you force your eyes to stay on Dean’s, even as he sits deep into you, cock throbbing against that soft spot and making you see stars. “You said you wanted to fuck me, Dean.” You raise your chin, grinding up into his torso until his throat bobs. “Fuck me.”
A low, primal noise leaves Dean’s mouth, and he fully snaps. You might have screamed his name when he began to move again—ramming into you at an unforgiving pace, creaking the bed and bruising your hips as he grabbed at your skin, molding you perfectly into his touch and body—but he swallows the noise with a deep kiss that makes your eyes go unfocused, your whole body slack and only for Dean to play with as he drags you higher. Slamming against that spot, balls slapping onto your ass, one free hand squeezing at your tits before dragging down your side and finding your clit-
“So fucking good, babygirl.” Dean groans into your mouth, and you think you might be floating or falling or flying, but it doesn’t matter because Dean grunting in your east and slamming into your dripping cunt, and that’s the whole world. “Look so good, all ruined and whiny, such a good fucking girl, taking this cock so well, made to be fucked so fucking pretty-“ He pinches your clit, and you whimper his name. “Wanna cum, baby? Wanna fucking soak this cock-“
“Yes,” you gasp, scratching at his back, muscles rippling as he drills into you. Something in you hopes it leaves a mark. That Dean feels you on his back a little forever, just like you know you’re going to feel him in your pussy and on your neck for the rest of your life. “Feels so good, Dean, feels so fucking good, wanna cum so bad-“
“Beg-“
Dean barely grunts your name before you bite on his upper lip, almost screaming into his mouth. “Please, Dean, please, need to cum, wanna cum so bad-“
“Shit, baby, you’re-“ Dean groans, his pace becoming uneven and thrusts slightly staggered, cock twitching deep inside you as he ruts into your aching, clenching pussy-
Dean flicks your clit once, sending your hips almost flying off the bed, and starts to rub you at a frantic, savage pace.
“Cum with me.” He growls your name, lips ghosting over yours and you stare at him under, cockdrunk, lidded eyes. “C’mon, baby, cum-“
Your scream is hoarse as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train—pure, drug-like bliss washing over your whole body, a soft haze of Dean settling behind your eyes and over your skin—and Dean roars as he slams open, warmth coating inside you and dripping between your thighs, down your ass, and onto the bed.
Dean rolls over, taking you with him, and remains carefully sheathed inside you as your cunt grows sensitive and your breathing slows back down. It helps that he keeps your ear pressed to his bare chest, where you can hear his heart beating. Calm and steady and strong, just as certain and constant as the man it’s inside.
As the man had been.
You’re not sure what he’s going to be now.
“That, ah,” Dean breaks the silence, his voice low and almost soft. “That do it?”
You smile against him. “If you mean take my virginity, then yeah, I think you did it-“
“No, I mean was it,” He groans, his arm shifting slightly around as his voice drops. “Was it good. For you.”
“Oh.” You nod slowly, trying not to hum like a needy fucking when Dean starts to run his fingers through your hair. “Yeah. Really good.” You stifle a moan as he twitches inside you. “It was awesome. Good, uh, good job?”
“Thanks, Sweetheart.” You can hear to smug grin in his voice, his free hand starting to rub soothingly on your back. “You were pretty fucking awesome yourself.”
There it is. You were pretty awesome. And he’s still inside you. And you need to know if you were awesome enough for something, anything to stick.
“You said, um,” you swallow, staring at his tattoo because you can’t bear to look at his face right now. “You said I could give you a blowjob next time. Did-“
“Did I mean it?”
You nod nervously, and Dean’s whole chest rumbles with his low laugh, rolling right through your body. He grunts your name, and—when you still don’t look at him—hooks a finger under your chin to guide your gaze to his.
“Look.” He sighs, and this is it. He did you a favor, and that’s it. He won’t stay, nobody stays, why would Dean Winchester be the one to stay-
“I get it,” you mumble, and wish you would find the will to make your body roll away from his. “You don’t need to explain-“
Dean’s grip on you remains firm, and his voice is a deep, amused drawl. It feels a little cruel in your gut, because you’d have really liked more. More would have been the best. You didn’t even need all of Dean, you’d just have really like more.
“You get it.” He raises his brows, and you nod again. “Sweetheart, you might want to actually hear the explainin’ part before you say anything.”
“I, um-“
“See, I’m a firm believer that all ladies should ride more than one dick in life. Too much of a good thing, ya know?” He winks at you, thrusting slightly up into you, and you flush. “But, if you’re taking applicants for long-term dicks, I’d have to be dumb not to apply. I’m never gonna complain if I get you all to myself.”
You stare at him, your voice barely a whisper. “So, um, you mean-“
“If you’ll have me,” he mutters. “I’ll take you up on that blowjob offer soon. And any other offers you’ve got.”
“Offers,” you swallow. “For long-term dicks?”
He shrugs—tracing a finger over your arm and refusing to meet your eyes—and it might be your turn to make the move.
“Dean.” You whisper, crawling up his chest just enough for his eyes to easily find yours. “I’d really like you being my long-term dick.”
He frowns. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that-“
You drop down to press a soft, tentative kiss against his lips, and he tenses for only a second before overtaking you. Deepening the kiss with his tongue pushing on your lower lip, groaning when you open for him without a moment’s hesitation, pinning you onto his chest with big, strong arms as you fall fully into him.
Dean pulls back for only a second, searching over your open expression—all affection and need for him, swollen lips and shallow breaths—until he finds what he’s looking for, and his face splits into a wide grin.
“If you’re lettin’ me,” he says, tucking a little bit of hair behind your ears. “I think I’ll stay your long-term dick for while, Sweetheart.”
“I’m letting you.” You whisper, a small smile pulling on your own lips. “But we need to come up with a better name than long-term dick.”
“Boyfriend?”
You stare at him for a second, unsure if this is real, because Dean just said that word like it was obvious. Not something he’s adamantly refused to be for anyone, ever, for the entire time you’ve known him. He said it like he was waiting to say it. And, looking at him—unfamiliar hope haunting the very deepest part of those perfect eyes, his grin so genuine but filled with nerves—you think he might have been. And all the money and glory and pleasure in the world couldn’t make you tell him no.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Boyfriend’s good.”
Dean’s grin becomes almost boyish, and this last kiss is sweet. It’s a kiss in the rain, or under bleachers, or on a rooftop with nothing but time and peace around you.
And you and Dean have never had either of those things.
But you’d really like to and find them. And if it’s with Dean, you really think you could.
End Note: Look at Dean. Being Emotional. I'm so proud of him (I made him do that)
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
Taglist
@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature
#x reader#reader insert#romance#canon typical violence#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters#godmadeaterribleerror#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#sam winchester#dean x reader#dean x you#dean fanfiction#smut#p in v sex#loss of virginity#virgin!reader#monster of the week#light angst
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Reading every single Sonadow Fanfic (Ao3): 14/?
Title: Lost in Memory
Author: DarkAbyss
Website: Ao3
Published: 30.09.2013
Word Count: 83.164 words
Suited for minors? Teen and up
Warnings: light violence
Smut? No
Finnished? No
Characters: Sonic the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog, Miles Tails Prower, Knuckles the Echidna, Rouge the Bat, Amy Rose, Doctor Eggman, Maria Robotnik, Gerald Robotnik, Molly, Abel, other characters mentioned
Ships: Sonic/Shadow
Author Tags: Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Non-Consensual Drugs Use Laboratory Experiments, The Ark, Family Bonding, Team as Family, Sibling Bonding, Developing Friendships, On Hiatus, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Identity Issues
Author Summary:
Animeverse (English version of Sonic X, post Season 2). A year and half after the end of the war against the Metarex, life has gone back to normal for Sonic and Co., at least until a certain black hedgehog comes back out of the blue. But this time Shadow not only brings two unexpected new companions with him, but also a whole world that, even if it belongs to a long lost past, still haunts him and seems to have no intention of setting him free. And what if those past but still vivid memories suddenly become a "present" again thanks to a failed experiment?
My summary:
A long Sonic X fanfic. It starts some time after the end of Sonic x and. It covers a lot about Shadow's past on the Ark with Maria and Gerald but also from the present with his new companions and his slow growing friendship (and more) with Sonic.
I'm sad that this story was never finished because it got me hooked. This ends before sonadow actually get together or anything, but they still get their moments, and it's definitely worth a read!
You can read it here
#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#sonadow#sonic fanfiction#no smut#sonic x#miles tails prower#knuckles the echidna#rouge the bat#amy rose#doctor eggman#maria robotnik#gerald robotnik#angst#light violence#length: 60k-100k#unfinished#long fic#cold shadow#teen and up#plot focused
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the warrior of light as a game-breaking force of violence
there's a moment, relatively early in dawntrail, that establishes succinctly how out of place the warrior of light (as the savior of eorzea and main character of four successive final fantasy game plots) is in what is essentially the story of fresh new final fantasy protagonist wuk lamat. and it sets up quite nicely how the framework of fantasy video game conflict pulls the warrior of light forever towards violence as the expansion goes on.
spoilers through 7.0 follow
consider wuk lamat's kidnapping and rescue. bakool ja ja holds his blade to wuk lamat's throat, taunting you. his lackeys line up against your party in neat little ranks suspiciously reminiscent of a classic final fantasy encounter screen.
and it simply does not matter to the warrior of light. you stride right through their combat setup because you are beyond that by now. the warrior of light has absolutely no respect for the "we are about to do ATB combat" lineup. the camera even jumps the line for you in one continuous rotating shot, crossing the axis of action as though to emphasize through the disruption of visual convention how far outside the game's boundaries you are.
this is how far you are above the problems of dawntrail's first half. you cannot even be bound by the normal rules of cinematography and video game combat. everyone else here lined up for a good old-fashioned scrap and the warrior of light said haha nope actually. i'm going to stroll through here like a god of war astride this tiny battlefield. your henchmen cannot even raise a hand to me. i don't even have to engage in violence directly anymore. my mere presence is enough.
in fact, not only can bakool ja ja's henchmen not raise a hand to you, he's not even worthy of your direct intervention. he kidnaps wuk lamat and steals her keystones and frees valigarmanda and kidnaps hunmu rruk and none of it warrants the warrior of light so much as raising a finger. he's wuk lamat's recurring villain, that's not your problem. you're just here to take in the scenery.
zoraal ja spends his whole life aspiring to be thought of as his father's equal and a worthy successor to the dawnservant as the "resilient son." all it takes for gulool ja ja to acknowledge you as a warrior on his level is like a five minute sparring match. the acknowledgement from gulool ja ja that zoraal ja hungered for his whole life and would eventually go full cyborg supervillain to get via regicide is something the warrior of light receives casually in a throwaway line after their level 93 solo duty on the way to more important plot conversations.
it really seems for a second, in the first half of dawntrail, like you are strong enough and the problems simple enough for this to be a clean and easy adventure. bakool ja ja? power of friendship'd. mamook? successfully reintegrated, no worries about the crimes against humanity. rite of succession? handily won. nothing can stop you. even duty finder queue times have been conquered: you can do all your duties with trusts now.
all of which only makes it better when the second half has sphene ask you and wuk lamat directly: could your strength have been enough to save alexandria? could you have found a different way?
i know some people get very annoyed we don't intervene in the gulool ja ja fight. now personally i think if you see arthur and mordred squaring up it's rude to intervene, but beyond that, it simply wouldn't have mattered. by the time zoraal ja's forces arrived in tuliyollal, alexandria and tural were already on a collision course and doomed to conflict. your hands alone could never have averted this conflict. sphene was always bound to do what she did—and certainly a gulool ja ja without his reason would not be any more inclined to peace than wuk lamat and koana were.
there's a great little moment just before living memory where estinien, champion at reading the room, is like "okay so if thancred and i stay here that frees up you up, aibou, to do what you do best and save the world and have epic fights. woo!!!" and immediately afterwards you basically have to apologize to alisaie because part of the sort of unspoken premise of this whole trip in the first place was that you were, finally, not going to plunge into mortal peril to save the world. you were finally going to take it easy. you were finally done with that. and she has to sort of ruefully be like nah it's fine bro. i was trying to get you to take it easy and not do insane risky world-saving violence. but y'know these things (interdimensional invasions) happen.
by the time you reach the very last trial, all pretense that the warrior of light could have ever been beyond these problems has vanished. you were, very emphatically, not strong enough to hold onto all that was dear without sacrifice. gulool ja ja and otis and cahciua died. yyasulani was irreversibly changed, physically colonized and culturally decimated by another dimension. you systematically shut down each part of living memory, and all its friendly, charming, loving ghosts, with your own hands. with your own clicks.
not even the vaunted strength of the warrior of light is enough to overcome sphene's inexorable logic of conflict. and so, in the end, she plucks you out of the crowd and says, explicitly for reasons of your strength, that you are going to have to do a boss fight now. you are going to have to kill her and you are going to have to do it in a proper 8-on-1 trial, and she forces you to affirmatively state that you understand you're going to kill her.
did you think you were above it all? did you think you could get away from here with your weapon undrawn, with your hands clean? that for you and you alone the logic of conflict comes undone? wrong. wrong. wrong.
your strength cannot redeem you, says sphene. your friends cannot make these sacrifices for you. if you would play the hero then you must play the hero. no half-measures.
back to the duty finder with ye.
#ffxiv#dawntrail spoilers#dawntrail#sphene alexandros xiv#sphene#wuk lamat#estinien varlineau#warrior of light ffxiv#meta: durai report#developing a framework for understanding the wol where all the mandatory video game violence is sort of a noblesse oblige for being the pc#you want to just magically find whatever you need whenever you need it? you want to be literally a master of whatever craft you please?#you want to have the echo? you better work (be the weapon of light) bitch
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been thinking about something wicked a little too much lately. no harm in romanticizing the ominous dreadful unstoppable force
#ultrakill#v1#v1cked#<- unsure if ive ever officially decided that was the tag id be using but i dont recall anyone else having an idea for it#v1 and something wicked... ouhehehe#in a game like this... with conflict and violence and unceasing demand for a spectacle it is a step back to have v1 find themselves in a-#dark and quiet labyrinth belonging to a force that scares even them#idk. i think about it. its so unlike everything v1 has gone through thus far (though albeit not much as 0-S is in prelude. but i assume-#-there was some killing before they decided to drop down)#maybe it reminds them of their home? where they were built? light humming of wicked passing feels like the buzzing of bright artificial-#-lights that were routinely shined down on them for maintenance#a strange but welcome connection...#and something wicked is very lonely. i dont think it has much of an issue with this seeing as it knows its maze so so well.. im sure it-#-cares for it extensively. but a machine? coming here? i wonder if something wicked has the ability to interact with the terminals at all#terminals do really only talk to machines#but this one seems quite lonely. i dont think itd mind if something wicked happened to take a look#ok im done#gen art
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New fic! You'd into say mean things about Fey's friends, ever
#unprepared casters#unprepared casters fic#gonna raise hell#annie wintersummer#fey moss#diarmad#aldrum#bombyx mori#found family#friendship#light violence
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youtube
Lesbians confirmed.
#gaming#video games#altered alma#trailer#pixel-art precision puzzle platformers starring red-haired women who can air dash#violence#death#gore#video#youtube#flashing lights
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I can't stop thinking about Mafia Konig who never let his wife wear bras because once she complained about how uncomfortable her bra is. And he just loves to circle his finger on her nips through the fabric whenever they have meetings with allies, in front of everyone! But if any guys dare to make dirty jokes about her body (how plump her ass is, how round her breasts are, etc) he will shoot that mfker in the middle of his eyebrows in a heartbeat. That's so disrespectful respectfully 😩😍😍 thank you for accepting a lot of my previous requests, love youuuuu🎀🎀🎀
Ofc!!! 🩷🩷 I love breast man König
Mafia!König x Braless!Wife (fem)
MDNI🔞
Master List
>cw fem/afab, blood, gun violence, groping
1.0k word count
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König has always loved the fact that you are a curvy woman. When he first saw you, you were dating one of his associates. He charmed you with his Austrian accent and icy blue eyes. Soon he had you coming to his office late at night, buying you expensive gifts, and bringing you home. One day, your ex showed up at a meeting with his boss, König, to just see you sitting on his lap. Your breasts were so large and filled his hands, and he knew you were his. Your body is just perfect for him. He can never keep his hands off of you; no matter what. That’s why he married you after only six months.
Your breasts are so large, bras are very uncomfortable. The underwire is always digging into you, the straps never feeling right on your shoulders. Sports bras never fitting right, always too tight. That’s when you approached König about the idea of giving up bras all together.
Obviously, he agreed quickly. Bras were only another barrier in between him and those bouncy, perfect pair of tits. König bought you light colored or sheer fabric tops and dresses. Your breasts are marvelous and deserve to be shown off.
König, seats you on his lap, you’re wearing a cream-colored shirt that clings to the curve of your breast naturally sitting on your chest. One of his hands is busy sifting through papers. The other squeezes your breast. Fingers slowly rubbing circles around your hardened nipple. You squirm over his erection as you lean your head back on his shoulder.
“Sit still, Liebling.” König whispers into your ear, his warm lips kiss your neck tenderly before looking away.
The table you’re sitting at has seven men seated, associates of König. They all look at your breast, watching as König’s finger begins to pinch and tug at your nipple that is visible through your shirt. They all share glances with one another; eyebrows raised with cheeky smirks across their lips. Some men had to adjust themselves as they watched König’s display of affection.
One man clears his throat. König’s eyes shoot in his direction. His gaze bore into the man waiting for him to speak.
“-Uh, sir, we have a shipment coming in from Hungary on Wednesday.” His eyes glued to your breasts as he speaks makes him forget his train of thought. “There are no set plans on who will be at pick up.”
“Mein Gott, your breasts are perfect.” König ignores the man to focus on you.
The man looks around at everyone’s eyes glued to you. “Sir?”
“You. Take Johan as well.” König’s attention shifts from you to the men. He notices their lustful gaze.
An awkward silence falls across the room as König pulls your shirt from the back as he looks over your shoulder at your breast. He perfectly sees the texture and color of your areolas and nipples. Perfection.
He continues to hold the back of your shirt with one hand. The other comes around and squeezes your breast. Cupping them in his hands before running them over your nipples, making you moan quietly. You turn your head to him and lift his hood slightly to kiss the pale skin of his neck. His cock is painfully hard. He cannot wait until this meeting is over so he can fuck these beautiful fucking breasts.
“Is that all we had to discuss?” König asks in a snappy voice.
“I can’t blame the guy; I’d want to hurry this up too.” One associate whispers to the one sitting next to him.
König hears him and smiles. His smile quickly disappears once he hears what the other man’s response was.
“I’d love to squeeze those massive breasts.” He lets out a low whisper before they laugh together.
König’s eyes fall on him, the both of them, and just glares. They don’t notice his gaze just yet, so they continue.
“Yeah, well, she was Christoph’s before, so we might get our turn.” They chuckle between them.
“Excuse me, my love.” König gently takes you off of his lap.
You stand and look up at König. His large hands come down and caress your face gently. “Take a seat Maus.”
König slowly walks past you around the table, his footsteps loud as he walks. He stops right behind the two men that were talking about you. Everyone at the table had eyes on the two men. Their fear was palpable.
König leans down slightly before whispering, “You know, this table isn’t big at all. And my hearing is wonderful.”
“Sir, I was just-”
He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before König quickly withdrew his gun and shot the man in between his eyes. His body lingered upright for a moment as everyone stared with wide eyes. Finally, the body fell forward onto the desk, causing a loud thump.
There was shock written all over the face of the man, sides of him that got all the blood splatter. König then turned the gun to the man that said he might have a turn with you in the future. His icy blue eyes bore into the man’s soul, almost.
Shaking, the man got out a short sentence. “I- I didn’t mean it…She’s your wife…”
“She is.” König nods and looks over at you sitting in his seat.
Your nipples are still hard and your breast jiggle lightly as you breathe rapidly from everything that just happened. My god you’re so perfect.
Without looking back at the man, König shoots him too. He puts his gun back into his holster and looks around the room.
“Anyone else have anything to say?”
A unanimous “no sir” breaks out across the remaining five men. All of them are too scared to look at König or me, so they keep their gaze down at the wooden table. König scans the table and looks at how they cower in fear.
“Gut.” König begins to walk back over to you. “Now, where was I?”
#tw: gun violence#tw: blood#konig#konig x reader#konig cod#könig#konig x y/n#könig x reader#konig smut#könig smut#könig cod#könig mw2#cod smut#konig x reader smut#könig x reader smut#light smut#x reader#konig x you#könig x y/n
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