#please ignore how dirty it looks its right next to the bird cages so its impossible to keep clean longer than a day

[yandereshingeki]

there is an imposter among them

[oogaboogasphincter]

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break. 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting​ and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic​. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian​

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?” 

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being. 

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.” 

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.” 

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies. 

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.” 

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you. 

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study. 

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced. 

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left. 

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts. 

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt. 

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out. 

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.” 

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester. 

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​, @mellowswriting​

[wendimydarling]

The Thirst is Real

Summary: Little Freya might not be who she says she is...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Little Freya 

Word Count: 1965

Warnings: uhhh.... slow burn; dirty thoughts; erotic thoughts; mentions of arousal, daddy kink, spanking, oral, masturbation, and thigh riding; size kink; slight manhandling; dom/sub kink if you squint.

A/N: So it’s been buzzing around The Cavillry that @littlefreya​ is either a mole in the community or Henry himself... @agniavateira​ (my beautiful goddess of a beta who also beta’d this fic for me) and I had a sensational conversation about what Freya and Henry’s weekly meet-ups would entail, and this beautiful birthday present was born! It’s also a little different that what I’ve done before, as I might have used some real life thirst examples in the fic. 

Did I call you out? I guess you’ll just have to read. 😈

You’ll get another gift on your actual birthday my love, but for now, please enjoy!!

~~~~~

Freya adjusted her curls in the mirror, adding one last dash of eyeliner. She was preparing for her weekly meeting with Henry, but this time her stomach was twisting itself in a spiral like a shirt ready to be dyed. 

When Henry first suggested the idea of her going on Tumblr to spy for him, she was hesitant at first. What if she couldn’t make friends? What if they didn’t trust her? But now, with a solid 6k followers under her belt, she knew she could say just about anything and people would flock to the thirst.

With a nervous look at her reflection, Freya gathered her things and headed out the door, sending a quick couple of texts to Henry.

I’m on my way. You should post on your IG stories… they’re wondering what you’re up to this morning. 

Perfect, thanks. I’ll send you what I’m about to upload.

A couple of seconds later Freya received his text, quickly setting up a post and waiting for Henry to update his Instagram. She smiled to herself; Tumblr would be buzzing in a matter of seconds once she posted, and what better way to show Henry what went on in the torrential world of social media than to show him live? Freya’s phone chimed again, indicating Henry had done as she’d suggested. 

She couldn’t help but grin like a demon as she hit the small blue button.

Pocketing her phone, Freya enjoyed the scenery on the short walk to Henry’s place. He was in London briefly as was she, so they were meeting at his home instead of Skyping like usual. Why she was so nervous, she didn’t know… Henry had been a friend for quite a few years now, even becoming one of her closest companions. He confided in her and she in him, and it was always a joy to see him. Every day she looked forward to their flirty banter. But that was easier when it was over the phone; doing so in person was an entirely different matter.

Freya reached Henry’s small home and knocked on the door. She’d only been there a couple of times, but the tiny house never ceased to give her a wonderful sense of charm and sensibility. A loud bark and clack of nails on the floor signaled that Kal was ready and waiting to greet her, which meant Henry wouldn’t be far behind. Freya fidgeted with her fingers and chewed on her lip in taut anticipation.

The door swung wide and there was Henry, sporting a puppy dog grin on his face and his large frame filling the entire entryway. His muscular chest was practically bursting from the snug grey shirt he wore, and his dark blue jeans couldn’t have looked more sinful. He had Kal by the collar as if the dog weighed nothing, and Freya couldn’t help but feel incredibly small. Henry reached out his hand, softly tugged her bottom lip from her teeth, then swooped her up for a one-armed squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured against her ear, sending chills down Freya’s spine. Her feet dangled helplessly as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, inhaling the sharp scent that had long since faded from the hoodie he’d let her “steal”. The fact that he was holding her petite stature in one arm and still controlling Kal with the other wasn’t lost to Freya, and the images it provoked in her mind of what exactly he could do to her with that kind of strength made her tingle. 

Oh, the positions he could put her in...

All too soon Henry set Freya down, shaking her from her sudden daydream. 

“Come on in,” he said, maneuvering Kal and ordering him to sit. Freya crossed the threshold, imagining what it would be like if she was in a long, white gown…

“I’m making a smoothie, would you like one?” Henry broke into her thoughts again and Freya flushed, hurriedly setting her bag on the table and pulling out her laptop. 

“Just some water please,” she replied, swallowing thickly as she realized how dry her throat was. She logged into Tumblr as Henry bustled about in the kitchen and quickly reblogged a few thirsty comments, scrolling through to find some good ones while she waited for Henry.

“Go ahead and start, tell me what ‘The Cavillry’ has been up to this week,” he stated, not quite a command but it thrilled Freya nonetheless. Stupid filthy gutter brain. She pulled out her notes and dove straight in.

“Well, a few of them like Lisa and Berry have a theory that there’s a mole in the community,” she laughed. “Some of them even like to surmise that I’m you!”

“Do they really?” Henry’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the living space and Freya closed her eyes momentarily, picturing that chuckle after a rather exhilarating round of cardio between soft, silken sheets…

“What else are they saying?” Henry’s voice was in Freya’s ear and she jumped, startled yet again from her indecorous thoughts. Henry set her water down next to the laptop and placed his hands on the table, caging her in his warmth as he leaned over her shoulder to read. Freya felt the familiar flush of arousal start to creep its way up her thighs but she did her best to ignore it, continuing on with her notes. 

“Marta made some really funny memes,” she stammered, “And Demi excels at clipping audios, where it sounds like…”

“How does it sound?” Henry’s hot breath ghosted over her ear, and his exhale came out nearly a growl. Freya felt lucky she was sitting down, positive her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been. 

“Like you just had a--an orgasm,” she faltered, grabbing her glass of water for a big gulp. Henry hummed, and Freya nearly choked on the clear liquid. 

“What else do they say? I want you to read it… out loud.”

Freya was shocked for a moment. What was he playing at? Wait a minute... this is a game; Henry is playing a game. Emboldened by her sudden epiphany, Freya switched personalities from timid bird to devilish vixen, determined to win whatever it was that Henry had set in motion. She arched her back and leaned her head against Henry’s shoulder, pointing at the screen.

“Well look, see what your post this morning has done? We descend into a thirsting frenzy every time.” 

She scrolled through a couple of posts, landing upon one that would give her what she needed.  

“For example, Miya writes: 

‘I guess good to know he’s on a morning run instead of fapping off… 

But good sir, you will have to shower after that no? And unless he’s a never nude, he’s going to be naked very very soon ladies. KEEP THAT IN MIND! IN A SHORT FEW MINUTES, HENRY WILL BE NAKED AND RUBBING HIMSELF IN THE SHOWER.’ ”

 Freya emphasized the last sentence and was rewarded with a small hitching of Henry’s breath. He recovered quickly.

“However did they know,” he quipped in a low rumble, reaching over Freya’s hand to do some scrolling of his own. Her hand was trapped in his but her thoughts were elsewhere, immediately flooded with the image of Henry getting off in the shower, water cascading over his hairy torso down the line of his abs and through the rabbit trail on his groin to the surely insurmountable…

“This one next,” he stated, drawing her back to the present. His thumb brushed softly over her skin before landing just out of reach of her touch. Freya focused her attention on the screen and a small groan escaped her lips. He’d chosen one of Wendi’s Smutbombs.

“...My eyes were instantly drawn back to his fierce gaze.

“You wanted to use that mouth,” he snarled, staring at me with lewd concentration.

“So use it.”

Freya’s palms grew clammy at the thought of using her mouth around Henry, in exactly the way the raucous words depicted. The way he would stretch her tiny lips until they burned, the way he’d fuck her throat without a care, the way he’d…

Henry grabbed Freya’s hand and abruptly slapped his phone on her palm, severing the thought. 

“Read this one,” Henry commanded her again, his voice now clear and authoritative. This time his tone left no room for argument; he was doing it on purpose. His arms still pinned her to the table with no way to escape, and she could feel the dominance that was dripping off of him tingling down her spine. 

Freya looked at the small screen, recognition of the words dawning on her face. She faltered, and cleared her throat.

“Yes, my bottom is always bare, Sherlock. Bare and ready for you to spank me and take me any which way you want.”

“Who wrote that?” he questioned sternly. Freya took a deep breath.

“I did.”

“Read the next one.”

Freya whimpered, clenching her thighs together tightly. 

“Fuck this shit I want to die on this man’s thighs.”

“Who wrote that?”

“I did.”

“Keep going.”

Freya’s chest was heaving. Her head was swimming with lust and need. Her arousal had long since wet her panties to the point of extreme discomfort. She was certain Henry could smell it too, as she certainly could and his head was still right next to hers. She watched his fists tighten on the table, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second. Freya imagined what his hands would look like with one wrapped around her throat and the other buried knuckle deep inside her…

“I said keep going; you’ve got one more.”

It wasn’t just Henry’s voice this time that dragged Freya back to reality; he wrapped his hand firmly around her nape and pointed her toward his phone. 

She blinked rapidly and scrolled to the last quote. 

“...They share a mutual smile and she forces herself to look away.

They have always liked each other, he has always been kind to her.

Sometimes he would touch her as they sat with friends, a feverish stroke, innocent or by mistake, but that would be enough to make her heart flutter like a huge butterfly in the cage of her chest. 

To see him physically hurts sometimes. Especially on a night like this when she is supposed to be happy, yet her heart feels sorrowful.”

The moment her lips finished moving Freya was pulled off the bench and thrust against the wall. Henry pressed his thigh between her legs, his own arousal evident as it strained against the ridged fabric of his jeans. His face was gentle and sincere but his eyes were as dark with lust as she was certain hers were, and the tremor of his voice left no room to imagine anything but desire.

“Who wrote that?” he whispered softly.

“I did,” Freya whispered back.

“Did you mean it?” Henry searched her face, looking for any scrap of evidence that would present him with permission. Freya brought a hand up to his curls, brushing the one out of his eyes that always seemed to disobey.

“Every word.”

Henry slammed his mouth against Freya’s, probing her deep and hard. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, tugging on his curls and wrapping her legs around his waist as he hoisted her in the air. Never in her life had she ever thought this moment would happen, that he would want her this way. But now, here in his arms with his lips on hers and on their way to his bedroom, she couldn’t picture anything else. 

The man had ruined her for anyone else over a decade ago, and she’d been thirsty for far, far too long.

~~~~~

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ @achaoticaugust​ @demivampirew​ @raspberrydreamclouds​ I hope you don’t mind that I used your thirst! I though it might be fun, but if you don’t like it just let me know, I’ll remove it. 😊

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Angst/violence/gore/blood/mentions of prostitution/SMUT(eventual)/veryinaccuratesurgicalprocedure

     Honestly words have been fermenting in my brain for many moons. I am new to this, so please be gentle.  I have written before, however never for a fandom. Special thank you to @yespolkadotkitty and @rzrcst for their support and encouragement, it truly means the world to me.

Summary: You are a nurse on the Green moon contracted to care for a group of prospectors. An act of violence forces you to flee your camp. Ezra finds you.

Words: 2376

 PART ONE

    The first time Ezra fell, it was with the Saters. You’d been hunched in a cordoned-off section of tent, dust motes waxing and waning against the haze of thick, dank air. At least you could breathe, a small mercy it was to remove your helmets and sit unfettered in the musty inner folds of the makeshift barracks.

    The Sater stank. When he sneered at you, his grey lips parted to reveal the jagged tombstones of his teeth. When you had first sat down and dispelled with the perfunctory greetings, choking down the offering of what always reminded you of unsweetened Turkish coffee mixed with engine oil, his eyes made no attempt to hide the way they had raked over you as if you were some shiny toy. Or a bag of meat. You were under no delusions when it came to the fact that you, by nature of being female, were going to be ogled. Still, it left you no less disgusted as you fought to keep your face impassive while his eyes honed in on your chest.

    Ezra sat beside you on the narrow bench, hunched forward with forearms balanced on knees that were spread to allow for his head to clear the sunken canvas ceiling. His expression was equally neutral, the only hint of tension showing in the tight bunch of muscle at his jaw. He knew as well as you that if the sater did not accept the barter, things would turn dark.

    Ezra had been here longer than you. Stranded with no transport after the crew he’d arrived with turned on each other over dig locations and payload disbursement. The pod they’d arrived in had been burned, irreparably damaged and left no more than a husk in the Green due to the short-sighted fury and bullheaded ire of his hired compatriots. In the fracas, he’d sustained an injury to his right arm from a rogue thrower shot. In retrospect it could have been much worse, but the spores of mold that made the air so toxic had worked its way into his flesh the same way selfishness and suspicion had seeded the demise of his partners.

    You were hired as a nurse to tend to your own hired prospecting crew, lured in with promises of adventure and treasures beyond your wildest dreams. You had known there had to be a catch, you were not so naive to believe that consequence could elude you, but you had signed the contract anyway hoping for more than the dreary clinic you’d worked in for the past five years. You were alone, you were lonely, you had no family. Your few friends had steadily drifted away from you as they met their own partners, started their own families. You were left to the ether. So you signed almost without thought when the recruiter came, signed before you had time to think it through, because you were aware that if you thought too much you’d talk yourself out of it. You knew all too well how adept you were at talking yourself out of things.

    So, you’d arrived on the Green and things had proceeded as planned, uneventful for the most part. The others on the crew were respectful, if a bit distant. Nothing untoward had happened until a contractor by the name of Jorin began to take a particular interest in you. At first you’d been able to politely deflect his advances. Showing up in your tent unannounced, he feigned all manner of illness and injury to get your attention. Over time he became more aggressive, invading your space until you had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was not welcome. It was not until he’d followed you back to your cot and tried to push you down that you’d snapped. You hadn’t meant to kill him, but the scalpel you had hidden in your fist had found its way to his carotid artery nonetheless. So you left, and you were blank and in shock and covered in someone else’s blood when Ezra found you.

    He’d stood, imposing and straight-backed, hand on hip while his head followed your shambling approach. Your adrenaline was waning, and you shuffled forth on trembling legs, hands held aloft in supplication. When you reached his clearing in the midst of dense vegetation you noted his mouth moving at light-speed, the hand on his hip twitching toward the thrower he had slung across his back. As you got even closer you noticed his eyes were wide. You were not on the same transmission channel so you could not hear him. Your hands gestured as if underwater, left hand tapping your transceiver while your right held up three trembling fingers. When Ezra understood he switched the channel and immediately his animated drawl was filling your helmet.

    “.....cannot fathom how you are standing in my sights looking like you’ve been baptised by Lady Bathory herself, alone? Please do tell this lonely old prospector how in Kevva’s name above you’ve found yourself in such a state of affairs?”

    You noticed immediately that he did not seem at all frightened or wary of your appearance, just confused, and….excited? You gazed up into the visor through a constellation of blood spatter and freed your tongue from its bone-dry cavern, swallowing thickly.

    “I didn’t mean to kill him. He tried to, to…..he came after me.”

    Ezra stepped forward in what seemed a conspiratory move. You froze. Taking note, he’d immediately stepped back, but his dark eyes fastened to yours with an intensity that made you feel as though he could see through you into your very essence, every shameful childhood memory, every flaw and triumph as readable as prose on paper.

    “Intention rarely informs the realities of snuffing out the flame of mortality. Between intention and action there lay an endless array of variables, something I know as well as my own name. In all my time on the Green the one thing that continues to ring true is that people here take. If you have nothing to offer, they will find something to take.” 

    He straightened before continuing, “Given that you are appreciably female I can imagine what it is he believed himself entitled to. You have none of that to fear from me, little stranger. I am but one lost soul amongst this verdant hellscape.”

    You were still processing the events of the past several hours, and it took you some time to accustom your ears to the man’s mellifluous cadence. The people in your previous company had been stilted, blunt, mostly monosyllabic. This man before you spoke as if convinced his words would alight and manifest whatever sacred force or unimagined color the universe deemed fit to spew forth. It was incongruous. You considered your next words carefully before you spoke.

    “Do you have a dwelling? A tent? I hate to impose, but this is my only suit and I’d like to get as much blood out of it as I can.”

    That was how you’d become acquainted with Ezra. You’d exchanged names as you walked to his tent, and all the while Ezra pontificated. The tent was modest, two cots arranged across from one another. Equipment stacked along one canvas wall, while texts and notebooks spread across a folding table toward the front entrance. Ezra explained where the water source was located as you both disconnected your helmets and stripped your suits. The blood splashed across yours had dried to a dull rust. Almost as if it could be something other than blood. Almost. 

    You’d set the suit to soak in cold water and truly noticed the man in front of you for the first time. He was tall and broad-shouldered, thick locks jutting chaotically from the dome of his head and curling around the lobes of his ears. A shock of blond colored the seam of his hairline. His brow was lined with years of tension and unrest. Wide, dark eyes below pronounced brows. A prominent aquiline nose. His mouth, still moving. Always moving, as if he were trying to get every thought he had out of his head before the hourglass ran out on him.

    Your eyes were next drawn to a dirty bandage circling his arm. You’d been so lost in your head over the strange turn of events that you did not notice the barely perceptible wince as he inventoried what appeared to be dried ration packets.

    “What happened? To your arm, I mean?”

    Ezra sighed deeply before answering. “Merely a flesh wound from an errant thrower blast while my crew and I were in the midst of parting ways. It was a most unsavory affair, I’m afraid. I don’t believe the weasel wielding the staff even meant to shoot me.”

    You stepped closer, eyeing the torn, worried cloth. “You have to be careful. The spores in the air will seep into everything, especially an open wound. Your bandage is filthy. Do you mind if I take a look?”

    “You have experience with dressing wounds?”

    “I’m a nurse.”

    You were wholly unprepared for the brilliant smile that split his face. Suddenly you could see the younger, roguish man that he had undoubtedly once been. You were suddenly overwhelmed, you could not understand how the heart in your chest fluttered as desperately as a bird beating its wings against the cage of your ribs. You felt close to panic as you realized that you were reacting this way to a man you did not know. 

    Careful.

    “Kevva above, I must have done something right in a past life as I’ve done nothing in this one to deserve such a fortuitous gift! A nurse! An angel of mercy, a dove of benevolence!”

    You felt heat rush to your face, and you cursed your feeble emotions as you turned quickly away from him. Please, ignore my abject idiocy. 

    “Med kit?”

    “Ah, of course. My apologies, Dove, I forget myself.”

    You pointedly ignored the unprompted endearment as any further contemplation on this new development would lead to literal hysteria. What the fuck is wrong with me?

    Ezra sat at the table near the entrance, sweeping the array of notebooks and papers to the side. You pulled up a crate once taking the med kit and unwrapped the soiled bandaging. You understood how awkward it had to be to dress a wound with one hand, and so you were able to forgive the haphazard application. He hissed and winced again as you revealed a very red, open and angry wound bed assaulting the meat of his right bicep. Black had begun to settle in around the ragged edges. It did not look good. Your gut sank as you noticed the purplish pucker of skin surrounding a crater that oozed and tunneled, purulent drainage saturating the underlying gauze. 

    The mold had done a spectacular job of decaying what would have normally been a straight forward traumatic thrower wound. You were shocked that Ezra was not screaming in pain.

    You kept your face studiously blank as you set out supplies: a vial of Ancef, sterile saline, bandaging, gauze, antimicrobial foam, hydrogen peroxide, a basin, and the scalpel you’d kept clutched in your fist as you’d fled. There was an injectable narcotic preloaded, you offered this to Ezra and he shook his head, his eyes still and worried. He knew it was bad, and he was scared. A wave of melancholy slammed into you and without thinking, you reached out and laid your fingers gently on his wrist.

    “Hey.” He met your eyes, and they were old. Ancient, and filled with what was akin to an existential weariness. You had to dig the toe of your boot into your calf to keep your eyes from filling with tears. You cleared your throat. It did not sound like a noise you’d make. You wondered who you were, really, before speaking.

    “I’m going to do the best that I can. It won’t be pretty. Your wound is badly infected. The black bits are necrotic, and if I don’t debride your wound it will spread. I’m going to try my hardest to save your arm. This is going to hurt, so I really think you should take the injection.”

    Ezra’s solemn gaze swung to fasten on yours. After a pause of internal debate, he simply nodded. You filled the basin with hydrogen peroxide and placed the scalpel in. You picked up the preloaded syringe and sterile gauze and quickly discharged the narcotic serum into Ezra’s left deltoid. His eyes soon took on a haze of detachment, pupils constricting to pinpoints.

    You picked up the scalpel and got to work, and Ezra finally screamed.

    He kept his arm impressively still while sweat cut rivulets down the planes of his face. His jaw clenched so tightly you feared his teeth would crack and splinter- you’d finally and wordlessly paused your work to place a length of spare leather strapping between his teeth, which he clamped onto like a feral dog.

    You worked quickly and wordlessly, cutting ribbons of spoiled flesh from the blessedly granulating bed of tissue and muscle beneath. Your mind worked in circular prayer, asking forgiveness from the universe for killing, for hurting. Ezra’s flesh was a sacred scroll and you were inscribing your texts upon it, begging for deliverance. It was not lost on you that the same scalpel you’d used to snuff one life was carving death out of another.

    When the deed was done, you reconstituted the Ancef and injected it into the meat of his buttock. You did it quickly, too wrung out and disturbed to feel impure. There was nothing prurient about what had just happened, nothing sexy in his agony. For all of its intimacy it was brutal and ugly and traumatic. At that moment you were inextricably bound to one another.

[pilot-boi]

Five Injuries Hidden: Chapter One

A little look into the extents that Jaune would go for his team, his friends, his family. Did he maybe go a little too far at times? Maybe. Is it really necessary for him to get medical attention and actually heal his injuries? Probably. Will he ever stop gladly throwing himself on top of the wire to protect even one of them? Definitely not.

Maybe he should actually let them help him when he goes too far and gets hurt in their stead. But for that to happen, they’d have to know about the hits that he keeps taking for them, which they don’t and never will. And what they don’t know won’t kill them.

But… It might kill him if he isn’t careful.

((I keep forgetting Aura is a thing, so don’t mind me giving him injuries that he shouldn't really be able to get. Set vaguely between V5 and V6.))

Oscar

Jaune’s never had a baby brother before, so he can be forgiven for being just a little bit more protective than he really needs to be, right?

AO3 LINK

It was pouring

Not an innocent little sprinkle either, oh no. It was a torrential downpour.

The water kept getting in his hair and washing it down into his face. Who needs eyesight anyway? That wasn’t necessary, right?

And to think, he had been having such a nice day, too.

A wild shout snapped Jaune out of his thoughts, and he snapped up his sword to block the clumsy swipe of the Ursa’s paw, the resounding clang leaving a faint ringing in his ears. A grin made its way onto the  soaked knight’s face as he batted the offending limb away with his shield and slashed across with his blade to decapitate it.

Whipping his head around, Jaune quickly scanned the impromptu battle field for his friends. His family. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Yang’s joked in the back of his head about counting heads like a teacher on a field trip, but he paid it no mind.

Relief swept through him as he saw that they all had their battles well in hand. Yang and Nora even seemed to be making a game out of it, shouting out the number of kills to each, both trying to one up the other. Their partners were taking it more seriously, but Jaune could see Blake smiling in amusement and hear the laugh tinging Ren’s words.

Ruby and Weiss were dashing around each other, working like a perfectly oiled machine. Glyphs would appear for Ruby to run on, perfectly timed for her to take out a truly obscene amount of Grimm with one strike. As he watched, he even saw Oscar take out a Beowulf singlehanded.

Jaune couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest.

Shaking his sopping wet out of his eyes -in vain, apparently, as it simply slid right back after he swept it away for the millionth time- a movement in the trees caught his eye by complete chance. Red glowing eyes and feathers flickered from branch to branch. 

Whipping his head around, Jaune zeroed in on a hidden Nevermore. It must have been drawn by the strife of the combat. With a screech it launched itself from the trees and reared back its wings to launch its feathers like throwing daggers.

Aiming directly at Oscar. Oscar, who still had trouble remembering to keep his Aura up. His brother. His baby brother.

Everything seemed to slow as his mind’s eye worked out just what he was seeing. He quietly pushed away the rage that bubbled up, and sought the cool planning mindset that had saved him and his friends time and again. Jaune would have time for anger later -because how dare that monster even think of laying a feather on Oscar Pine- because he had more immediate problems.

For one, and most immediately, that he would not be able to warn Oscar in time. No, the stupid bird was already locked and loaded onto Oscar, and by the time he warned him, there could be a feather a foot long skewered through his chest.

So, that brought his options down to only one. One acceptable solution. If that arrow was going to hit anyone, it was going to be him.

As he came to that conclusion, everything rushed back into full motion.

The Nevermore loosed its feathers like a hailstorm.

Oscar heard the noise and turned to see what was flying towards him.

Their friends yelled out in warning. Weiss threw up a wall a moment too late. Ruby jumped into a cloud of petals.

And Jaune slammed Oscar -his little brother, dammit stupid bird would pay for that- out of the way, his momentum carrying them both mostly out of the path of the barrage. Mostly.

Jaune was never so happy to have a soaking wet red sash tied around his middle than at that moment. It hid injuries quite well.

Hiding a grimace of pain as something just short of agony raced across his lower ribs, Jaune quickly checked over Oscar for injuries. His Aura flared up in his hands, liquid light pouring down into any possible imaginary injuries the boy could have. “Are you okay?! It didn’t get you, did it?”

Oscar shook himself out of his shocked stupor, blinking dazedly. “N-no. I’m fine. Thanks Jaune.”

Jaune breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping, before they raised back up rigidly and his shield spiraled back out to cover them both. “Wait, what about the Nevermore?!”

Ren laid a calming hand on Jaune’s shoulder. “Not to worry. Ruby and Weiss are taking care of it. Are you alright, Jaune?”

A sharp sting lanced across his ribs. Couldn’t spare Aura for an injury he didn’t know the extent of. What if he needed to heal someone? “Yeah, sure, I’m fine! Do you think you could check over Oscar to make sure that it really missed him?”

Ren tilted his head to one side in confusion and crouched down beside them both. “I saw you using your Semblance, but it you’re sure-”

“Guys, I’m fine! Not even bruised anymore thanks to you,” Oscar reassured him.

“You got him to the ground before the others even took off after the rest of the Grimm,” Ren reminded Jaune, ignoring the knight’s skeptical expression. “You did well, Jaune.”

“My ‘good enough’ almost wasn’t good enough.” Jaune slumped tiredly, resisting the urge to sling his arm across his torso to cover the angry welt he could feel. “I’m just relieved I saw it in time.”

Oscar punched him lightly in the arm, and then shook out his fingers from punching his metal armor. Jaune didn’t even notice the hit, but he noticed the reprimand. “Come on, stop that. Please! You saved me, you made it. I’m right here, on the ground, safe and sound.”

“Yeah, what he said!” Ruby called as she waded through the semi-dense brush, the tell tale smoke of dead Grimm dripping and seeping off the scythe leaning on her shoulder.

Good. The thing was dead. Jaune tried not to feel so satisfied about that.

Nora bounced out from behind her and slung an arm across Jaune’s shoulders, unknowingly aggravating Jaune’s side. “C’mon fearless leader, cheer up! Everything turned out a-okay. Now, what do ya say we all finish up here and go get something to eat, huh?”

Jaune heartily agreed, and soon they were all back in Mistral proper. Qrow, slung across the couch with one arm covering his eyes, grumbled when their troop stomped inside covered in mud and shouting to each other. 

Excusing himself with the plea of exhaustion, Jaune snagged the first-aid kit from the kitchen and sequestered himself into his and Oscar’s shared room. And with a wince, he finally took in the extent of the damage.

The less said about the torturous removing of his armor and soaked through clothing, the better.

A long, angry red mark was gouged across his side, right under his rib cage, and a dark, grim looking bruise covered from just above the severe laceration all the way down to the top of his hip. 

He stared at it for several long seconds, debating whether to heal it or not. Who knows what they’d be doing over the next couple days. Could he afford to leave it? Or could he afford to siphon off precious Aura to heal himself, when he might need it for the others?

After far too long, he settled on cleaning it out first and figuring it out later.

Biting back the few curse words he knew, mostly from Yang, he quickly balled up the cleanest, least muddy piece of his shirt before biting down on it, effectively blocking any yelps that would be sure to somehow slip past the firm barrier he had paced against them.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, his side protesting fiercely, and gathering up all his courage, Jaune tore open a sterile package and applied the large antiseptic patch found within.

The world whited out.

Suddenly, in some part of his brain that was untouched by overwhelming agony, he was very, very glad that he had taken the precautions to stop anyone from seeing or hearing him. Locking the door behind him had been an afterthought born from years of sibling life, but now he was so very glad that he took the second to do so.

After all, he couldn’t have someone walking in on him feeling like he was dying, now could he?

He used to like rainy days.

Somehow pulling himself back together out of the sheer force of will, he finished cleaning out the gash. He channeled a sliver of Aura into the injury and watched as it stitched himself up into a barely healed slash, still surrounded by bruising. Just enough to stop the bleeding.

Taking a moment to center himself, he spit his shirt out of his mouth and finished up by wrapping a loop of gauze around his middle and over the still extremely tender wound.

Finished. Now he could die in peace. Didn’t they say that death was eternal rest? Yeah. He could go for an eternal nap right about now.

Sadly, that wasn’t in the cards for Jaune at the moment. Briefly mourning the fact that he couldn’t stay seated on his bedroom floor with stray medical supplies strewn about forever, Jaune mentally shook himself off and begrudgingly started cleaning up any evidence of this little escapade. 

His dirty shirt got tossed right into the laundry, along with the bloody soaked and slightly-more-tattered sash. Hopefully nobody would notice the extra holes in the latter.

That done, and knowing that Oscar at the very least would undoubtedly be coming by soon, Jaune quickly pulled a new shirt over his head to hide the remaining evidence, i.e. his injury. 

It was quick for him, but really he walked slowly with shuffling steps, as his side strongly rebelled against the thought of doing anything fast other than sleeping. So he shucked off his soaking wet jeans, tossed them into the pile with his shirt and sash, tugged on a pair of sweatpants, and collapsed painfully into his bed.

No training tonight. Sorry, Pyrrha, but he didn’t think he’d manage to wake up to his alarm no matter how loud he set it. And setting it loud enough to wake the others was a no-go. Jaune felt so exhausted that he doubted even his nightmares would be enough to wake him.

Don’t get him wrong, Jaune didn’t regret what he did. He never would. You could scour his soul for eternity, and you would never find even a slightest shade of remorse for doing what he had done to save Oscar, the little brother he’d never had. 

This result was the optimal one. That’s what he did, he crunched the numbers. And the numbers would always come to this result, without question. Jaune would gladly relive this entire horrible, muddy, rainy day a million times if it meant that Oscar would come out of it uninjured. 

In fact, he would willingly do this for any of his friends, his family, the family he’d found and made and cobbled together. This family that was a little damaged and cracked, but that had dragged him out of the darkest time in his life without a second thought and without asking for anything in return. 

A debt that Jaune could never begin to repay. Not that he’d ever stop trying. He hadn’t been grateful enough when they’d been doing it, so he was doubly grateful for them sticking with it and not giving up on him like he’d so dearly wanted them to.

So he’d do anything for them. Anything at all. With absolutely no hesitation at all. If any of their lives were on the line, there were really no numbers to be crunched. This decision was a no-brainer.

Hands down, no questions asked.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Lessons

AU Supernatural (story rewrite) 

Warning: Dark Gabe one-shot. Smut. Dub con. Trigger warning 

Words: 2,236

Summary: You are tired of Gabriel ignoring you. After sneaking out when being told not, you quickly learn that pissing Gabriel off can be a good or a bad thing. 

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

_____

“Gabriel, please. I need you.”

Nothing

You sighed. It was just another prayer. Another prayer that was wasted. Just a GIANT fucking waste of your time! You sat down on the hotel bed with an exasperated sigh.

It had been months since you had seen Gabriel. After being with someone for two years then absolutely nothing as far as contact was miserable!  He didn’t mind to keep her up in a fancy hotel but heaven forbid if he made contact.

After Gabriel returned from the empty, he was different. He was cold and dark. You were convinced that after AU Michael stabbed him, any bit of good was drained from your favorite archangel. You had to get used to a whole new lover! 

You were used to Gabriel staying away for long periods of time. He had started helping Cas with a pending war with Michael. You understood that but what you didn’t get was why he couldn’t give you any sign that he was okay. You were not asking him to walk away from the conflict or give up just a hey I am okay. I’ll see you soon.

The last time that you had seen Gabriel something was off. He wasn’t 100% there. He seems almost on autopilot and was rougher than he had ever been when it came to making love. In fact, he had threatened you when she mentioned going back home to your mother’s.

“You’re mine. You aren’t going anywhere.  When I come back, you better be right here waiting for me.”

You only nodded, not sure what to say to your lover as he turned and disappeared without another word.

Now here you sat on that same bed staring at the wall like a caged bird.

“Gabriel, if you can hear me you better get down here! You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Again nothing

“That’s it! I’m going out.”

You said, coldly. When no archangel appeared in the room you stood. You were tired of being the dutiful lover. If Gabriel didn’t have the time for you then you didn’t have the time to sit here and let your life waste away. So what if he was keeping you young and healthy? If he didn’t come at the threat of you walking out then he would probably have no clue that you went to do something outside of the hotel room.

Walking into the nearest most sleazy bar possible, you took a satisfied breath. In your mind, you were mentally shooting your boyfriend the bird as you walked inside. You didn’t care that your black dress was too short or if when you bent over the whole world would see your lady bits. Right now alcohol, lots of alcohol, was on your mind.

Sitting down on the first stool, you smiled as the bartender walked over.

“Time for some fun.”

You thought. The bartender handed you a small menu.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?”

You smiled.

“Jack and coke.”

The bartender nodded before going to prepare your drink.

“I like a girl that can handle whiskey.”

You turned to face a man with dark eyes and neatly styled brown hair. He looked taller than Gabriel but would stand no match when it came to the archangel. No man in this bar would! 

“Yeah? Well, I can handle it pretty well.”

You said with an innocent smile. Normally you would be ashamed of your behavior. Tonight, however, not a fuck was to be given.

“I think that is amazing. My name is Ryan.”

You eagerly shook his hand.

“Y/n.”

It didn’t take long and very many shots of Jack before you were forgetting all about your pain over Gabriel. In fact, you hadn’t thought his name in a while. Ryan and his funny stories were almost too perfect. He was making you laugh about the smallest things.

“Hey wanna go outside? I need a smoke.”

Ryan asked with a funny grin. You quickly picked up the small handbag that you had brought before following Ryan outside. You didn't notice that Gabriel's name was lighting up on your cell phone until you reached the door. With a drunken shrug, you pushed ignore and walked out.

Ryan quickly lit a cigarette before looking to you.

“I've had a good time tonight. You're really pretty. Do you got a man?”

You shrugged.

“When he wants to be. Haven't heard from him in a while.”

Ryan nodded.

“Works out of town.”

You laughed coldly.

“You could say that.”

Ryan took a drag on his cigarette before looking a little more intense.

“Why don't you come home with me? You look like you haven't been fucked enough.”

Before you could respond blood shot out of Ryan's mouth and a bloody gash appeared on stomach immediately soaking through his white shirt. Your eyes widened as the man hit the ground. Your eyes rolled up to see Gabriel standing behind the now-dead Ryan looking like he was ready to raise hell.

“Gabe...Gabriel!”

You managed to squeak. Gabriel's honey eyes looked cold and here was something sinister about them as he looked at you.

“Having fun, honeybunch?”

You blinked as Gabriel stepped over Ryan like he was a piece of garbage in the road. Before you could respond, Gabriel's hand was around your throat.

“I asked if you had fun? I suggest you answer me.”

You swallowed as Gabriel increased the pressure.

“Well, I was. What are you doing here?”

Gabriel seemed to ignore your answer as he looked at your scantily clad appearance.

“Are you a fucking idiot?! I could hear everything you were doing! It was all over the damn angel radio! Where the hell are your clothes? I know you have them. What did you expect to get out of all of this? Some mortal to take you back to their place and fuck you silly. I have news for you sweetheart that isn't going to happen.

You pushed Gabriel off and yanked the shoulder strap of your dress up.

“What the fuck does it matter to you?! You don't ever show the fuck up anymore! So what if I want to go out and have a little fun. Not like you give a good god damn. Oh look at that I said god! Naughty me!”

The look on Gabriel's face showed nothing but fury and rage!

'That's it! I have had it with you! You have gone way over the line! I tell you to stay in the hotel room and here you are like a damn streetwalker.”

Gabriel reached out grabbing your hand. The next thing you knew the two of you were standing in the hotel room. After the room stopped spinning, you looked back to Gabriel who was still beyond livid. He walked over pulling you to him for a rough kiss. You cried out the moment his teeth latched onto your bottom lip and his hand roughly squeezed your left butt cheek.

“Gabe!”

You moaned his name as his kiss eased up into a gentle and almost romantic kiss. Gabriel quickly pushed you away and onto the bed. Your eyes rolled up as he towered over her.

“Time for a little lesson on how our relationship works. You do what I tell you and you won't get punished like you are about to now. I am done being sweet to you. You're mine and that's it. I'll kill any worthless person that gets in my way. You were about to put out for another man so I am going to fuck you like the whore that you are.”

He reached down quickly ripping the black dress from your body leaving you naked below him.

“Gabriel, what is wrong with you? This isn't you.”

You cried out as he yanked his own shirt over his head in a blind rage. Gabriel looked down at her with a cold smirk.

“This war has changed me, peach. You get what you fucking get!”

You were scared! Scared and slightly turned on....however, you were afraid to admit the last part. Maybe you could pray to Cas for help. He would show up if she needed something.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

Gabriel sneered coldly as he reached down slamming a finger into your wet core.

“Ah, you're wet...just like I expected. You really are a slut. You know the safe word.”

He growled as he curled his finger letting his thumb stroke over your clit. You threw your head back into the pillow as Gabriel continued his assault. Maybe you were going to enjoy this after all. 

“Gabriel, please. I love you.”

“Ha....yeah right and I was born yesterday. Let me tell you a thing precious...”

Gabriel took his hand away as he began to undress. You couldn't help wondering why he wasn't just using his grace to undress like normal.

“You are all mine. Mine to pleasure. Mine to taste and most importantly mine to love.”

Gabriel elongated the word “love” before his grace slammed into your body at full force. You cried out as the pressure inside of your body intensified. It felt just like Gabriel fucking you, yet this was different. There was something that made this even more intense. It went on until you were unable to cry his name instead you were praying. Gabriel chuckled.

“That's right sweetheart. Pray to me. Look at us. Me using my god-given powers to fuck you into next week while you moan like a dirty harlot. We would both be fucking crucified in heaven for this. It's worth it though...seeing you spread open like this just waiting for me to touch you. I could look at it all day.”

You cried out again. This time you were finally able to get some verbal words out.

“Gabriel, please. I'm sorry. I was so angry. I was worried about you. It has been too long since I saw you and I needed....”

“Shut up.”

The archangel said coldly before making his grace stop. You gasped, as your chest heaved. You were thankful that he had given you a few seconds break. It wasn't long until his cock was slamming into you.

“You just thought that you were going to get away without this huh? Did you think that I wouldn't claim what was mine? Well, you're wrong.”

Gabriel's hand found its way back to your throat as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Don't you dare shut those eyes. If you do it will be the last thing you ever do. Do you hear me?”

“Yes!”

You squealed as Gabriel's increased the pace of his thrusts each time his cock feeling bigger than it was the moment before.

“You leave this hotel room again...”

You shook your head, however, deep down you were wondering if you left again would it get you this rough sex a second time? Whether you wanted to admit it or not you were enjoying this..

“I won't....not without you! I've learned my lesson.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“I don't believe you. Sugar snap, I have seen hell and I know what liars look like. You are just saying shit to make me happy. Best thing you can do is hush. Ah, what the hell. You don't need that voice. I took John's voice away in the bible not to mention that overgrown Dean Winchester and his brother. What does yours matter for a little bit?”

Gabriel snapped and you no longer had the ability to speak. He grinned looking like a mirthful child at Christmas.

“Much better.”

Gabriel said softly as he went back to pummeling your body harder with his. Focusing his honey eyes on your clit, Gabriel focused his grace on the tender tissue. Your eyes were open wide as you raised your hips to meet his thrusts.

“That's a good girl. I love you Y/n. I love everything about you. You are the only human that I have never been able to get enough of. Mhm, I love the way you take my cock. Come for me sugar.”

Gabriel growled as his cock made contact with your cervix. Between repeated hits to your cervix and his grace on your clit You were spiraling out of control. The moment your orgasm started to wash over you,  Gabriel immediately gave your voice back. You were shrieking his name as Gabriel closed his eyes coming hard inside of you.

Neither moved for a moment. Gabriel sighed happily.

“I'm going to be coming back home more often.”

You looked up at him with timid eyes.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Gabriel's eyes darkened taking on that sinister expression as he smiled coldly.

“That's up to you and your pussy to decide. Time for you to be doing your duties to me. My suggestion to you, princess, is to remember what I can give to you. What I can do to you and most importantly no one will ever be able to make you come like I can. Also, it wouldn't hurt remember the hell I can bring you. Got that cupcake?”

“Yes sir...”

_________

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@supernaturalways

@shaylybaby2032

@emiwrites3reads

@fand0maniac

@marichromatic

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@hankypranky

@wontlookaway

@deanwherescas

@shitfaceddaniel

@summer-novak

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@spnaturalconfessions

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@mycuddlycorner

[slashersrus]

Jeremiah Valeska x Male Reader - High

“Stay here, I’ll come get you once the bombs have detonated.” Placing his ruby lips on his forehead, Jeremiah stepped back and started towards the door.

“I can help you J! I’m not some fragile, little bird that you need to keep caged.” Seeing Jeremiah leaving, Y/N stepped forward, grabbing Jeremiah’s unnaturally pale hand.

“I know you’re not, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” pausing Jeremiah ran a finger down his cheek slowly, “but I can’t risk losing you, so please, stay here. You have Ecco to keep you company, she’s loyal, she’ll protect you.”

“What is that?!” A loud bang sounded through out the safe house, Y/N jumped to his feet as Ecco drew her gun threateningly, donning the jester mask she held loosely in her hand.

“Stay here.”

“Hell no!” Grabbing his pocket knife, Y/N slowly followed Ecco out of the small room, his eyes darting round for any danger.

A hand reaching out and knocking Ecco out was the last thing he saw before a bag was thrown over his head, something heavy colliding with the back of his head as his knees crumpled to the ground.

“Leave her. We have what we came for.”

Groaning, Y/N rolled his head, his neck cracking as he opened his eyes, glaring at the people surrounding him. He was stood in between Tabitha and Barbra, white hands holding him tightly in a standing position, Butch behind him. Oswald Cobblepot stood a few feet away, grinning as he held Jeremiah’s core relay. They were in another safe house of Jeremiah’s, Y/N frowned, wondering how they had found the locations before his eyes fell on the dead body of Jongleur.

Slow, methodical steps filled the room as Jeremiah Valeska made his way down the stone steps, his followers trailing after him obediently. Y/N’s eyes widened with relief upon seeing his boyfriend, the relief slowly dying and draining away as he realised this was a hostage situation, and he was the hostage.

“Oswald Cobblepot. Barbra Kean. In my stronghold.” Not yet noticing Y/N, Jeremiah glared at Oswald.

“Not one step closer, Mr Valeska.” As Oswald spoke, Tabitha held a slim gun up to Y/N’s head threateningly, Jeremiah’s breath hitching at the sight.

“And is that my dear Y/N being held like a rag doll by your brute? Oh and my core relay.” The darkness that overtook Jeremiah’s eyes could have scared any sane or insane person.

“Indeed, it is.” Grinning happily, Oswald spoke as he played with the core relay in his hands, careful not to drop it.

“Huh. Well, it seems you have the upper hand.”

“Undoubtedly. And now, we have our own demands.” Oswald stepped forward as he spoke, ignoring the dangerous glint in Jeremiah’s eye.

Talking long, confident strides forward, Jeremiah grabbed an abandoned chair, sitting rigid as he carefully studied Y/N for any injuries, a slight sigh of relief leaving his lips as he saw none.

“$50 million.” Oswald smirked at the man, Barbra nodding along.

“$50 million. That’s what you want?” Jeremiah drawled out the words, his brain flitting around madly for a way to rescue Y/N without using the rocket launcher he had hidden behind him, he couldn’t risk hurting Y/N.

“It’s a nice, round number.” Oswald spoke with humour, knowing he was in charge of the situation taking place.

“I don’t quite have that on me right now.” Jeremiah sarcastically spoke whilst glancing down at his attire, clearly not holding that amount of money on him.

“You gave the mayor six hour to evacuate Gotham. An impossible task. Let him buy another hour. He will save thousand of lives. $50 million dollars will seem cheap.” Watching Oswald shrug and blackmail Jeremiah caused fury to burn in Y/N veins, trying and failing to pull out of the tight grasp.

“I see. I play the villain and you get away Scot-free and rich. I get you the money, you give me back my Y/N and my core relay?”

“That is usually how a hand off works, yeah.” Barbra snarked at Jeremiah, Y/N snapped at the disrespect they were sending Jeremiah.

“Don’t do it, don’t let these idiots blackmail you!” Cracking his head back into Butch’s nose, Y/N tried to pull himself free whilst shouting.

“And to add incentive.”Butch’s grip remained tight, the hit barely affecting him as Tabitha snarled at Y/N, pulling out a needle as she spoke,”little Y/N here has around two hours to live before he dies painfully, unless you give us the money and we cure him.”

Jeremiah stood up in a flash, his gun pointed at her as she jabbed the needle into Y/N’s neck, smirking sadistically as he groaned in pain.

“What the hell is that?” Marching forwards, Jeremiah cocked the gun, about to fire before Barbra stopped him, placing her knife on Y/N’s neck as Tabitha spoke.

“Just a little something usually used for interrogations, a personal favourite of mine. It causes bursts of extreme pain in between a high sensation, they basically spill out all their dirty little secrets before they die in agony. It’s very affective, trust me. The poison lasts for between an hour and two hours before the victim succumbs to their death, Y/N seems like a fighter meaning you have two hours to hand over the cash. Catch!” Smirking in victory, seeing Jeremiah’s face fill with dread before his usual stonic mask took over, shoving a groaning Y/N toward Jeremiah.

“Y/N?! Y/N, talk to me!” Darting forward, dropping his gun and barely caching Y/N, Jeremiah cradled him on the floor as he let his emotion take over, completely ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Hiya J.” Giggling slightly,Y/N spoke, a dazed look appearing in his eyes as he poked Jeremiah’s cheek.

“Fix him!” Glaring up at Oswald, Jeremiah picked Y/N up bridle style, cradling him to his chest as he spoke.

“$50 million for the antidote and the core relay, you have your time limit, Mr Valeska.” Oswald spoke, a smile on his face as Jeremiah sneered at him. Tilting his head, Oswald watched on amused as all emotion left Jeremiah except for the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“You drive a hard bargain, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Did anyone ever tell you, you kinda look like that Jerome guy?” Y/N cocked his head, watching Jeremiah with wide, innocent eyes causing him to sigh in agitation at being compared to his brother, knowing that Y/N couldn’t help it, glaring as Tabitha laughed cruelly at the delirious boy.

“Ill get your money.” Walking out of the building with Y/N still in his arms, poking his face and neck giggling, Jeremiah spat at Oswald.

“You let him get captured!” Jeremiah clenched his first around Ecco’s neck, squeezing as she choked and cried out apologies.

“I-I’m sorry, please!”

“You’re lucky, I need you to go and get me $50 million or you’d be dead right now.” Letting go of her throat, Jeremiah sat on the couch by Y/N, pulling him onto his lap.

“Go!” Shouting when Ecco just too still, panting heavily, Jeremiah watched as she flinched and ran away with wide eyes.

“Carrot top! I think I love you!”Beginning to tell him not to call him that, Jeremiah froze, looking down at the boy with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Mm, you’re warm. I’m cold. Why am I cold? I feel all tingly and weird.” Shaking his arm dramatically, Y/N straddled Jeremiah’s lap, cuddling into his chest and nuzzling his head into his neck for warmth, completely forgetting what he just said.

“Y/N?” Wrapping his arms around Y/N, Jeremiah frowned at the feel of his ice cold skin, lifting his head up so that he could look into his eyes as he asked the next question, his voice deadly serious.

“Y/N, how do you feel?”

“Great! Why-“ Y/N cut off to an abrupt stop, coughing into his hand as he vomited up a bit of blood.

“Ugh, my stomach hurts, Jeremiahy.”

“Oh, that’s not good. We need that antidote.” Helping Y/N stand up, Jeremiah began to lead them to the door, desperate to get the money for the antidote.

“Don’t you dare die on me!” Picking Y/N up when his legs collapsed and he passed out unconscious, Jeremiah urgently rang Ecco to meet him at the strong hold with the money.

“There’s your damn money! GIVE ME THE CURE!” Feeling Y/N’s body shake, Jeremiah screamed at Oswald as he stood in front of him, Ecco tossing the bag of money over.

“And don’t even think of double crossing me because I have the remote to the bombs right here and if Y/N dies, I will order her to press it.” Keeping a tight grip on the shaking, pale Y/N, Jeremiah nodded towards Ecco who stood holding the detonator, causing Oswald’s eyes to widen.

Gesturing for Tabitha to hand over the antidote, she threw it to Ecco who caught it before they all left in a hurry, grabbing the bag of money on their way. Rushing to Jeremiah’s aside, Ecco handed him the vial as Y/N started to cough more blood.

“Hang on, Y/N, you have to!” Laying him on the floor, Jeremiah gently opened his mouth, pouring the liquid from the vial into his mouth and making him swallow it.

Minutes went by, the occupants of the room tense as Y/N’s body went completely still, before a weak gasp left him.

“Y/N? Y/N, oh thank god!” Pulling him into a hug, Jeremiah stroked his back as he coughed into his shoulder.

“What happened?”

“Oswald and his cronies poisoned you, but its okay, you’re fine now.” The last part was mumbled, more for Jeremiah’s sake than Y/N’s.

“Can we kill them?” Pulling away from Jeremiah, Y/N asked darkly, having no memories of the previous events.

“Most definitely.”

Walking from the room Hand in hand, plotting Gotham downfall, Jeremiah snickered slightly before speaking, “so you love me, eh?”

Seeing the deer in head lights look on Y/N’s face, a smile spread across his own face, “It’s okay, I love you too.”

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER THREE

A quick knock sounded and Nikki trotted to the door.

Flinging it open, she sighed, exasperated. “I need help.”

Kaelin frowned, looking her over. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“I need help,” Nikki repeated. “This is worse than the fashion crisis of ’09.”

“I highly doubt that,” Kaelin said, dropping her coat and purse on the couch and following Nikki to her bedroom. “At least now your eyebrows are back to their normal shape.”

“You miss one waxing appointment and never live it down,” Nikki muttered, shoving a section of clothes hanging in her closet to the side.

Kaelin sat on the edge of the bed, sweeping her wavy brown hair over her shoulder. “So what’s the emergency?”  

“What’s the quintessential stereotypical crisis every woman goes through at least once a week?”

“Whether or not to get their Master’s degree?”

“Not having anything to wear.” Nikki pulled out a gauzy floral top, holding it up for inspection. Kaelin wrinkled her nose at it.

“I thought you were gonna wear that cute black dress you wore to my company holiday party last year,” Kaelin said, crossing her legs at the knee, shiny black stilettos catching the light.

“Yeah and remember what happened? I slipped in a puddle of eggnog and ended up showing your entire accounting department my Brainy Smurf undies.”

Kaelin laughed. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that!”

“Well it was after your third Jaeger bomb,” Nikki said, picking out another top. “It’s a miracle you remember even being there.”

“You know what I wish I didn’t remember? Hooking up with Martin from Human Resources. Seriously, why didn’t you stop me?”

“I was too busy trying to fend off one of the drunk VPs, whose wife by the way, was none too pleased.” Nikki vetoed the new top and sighed. “Help,” she said, turning back to her friend.

“Okay, okay,” Kaelin hopped up and strode to stand next to her. “We’ve decided against anything short and in dress form… What about this?” She pointed at a light blue chiffon blouse.

“It’s see through,” Nikki said.

Kaelin blinked at her. “And…?”

“And I want guys to ask my name, not my price.”

Putting it back, her friend sighed. “Alright… What about this one? It’s cute.”

“I bought it when I’d gained ten pounds and it all went to my boobs. Now it’s just a sad reminder of what once was,” she said wistfully.

“Okay, I’m going in blind.” Kaelin covered her eyes and reached into the closet. Her fingers snagged on an emerald and silver scoop neck top with delicate embroidery at the hem.

Nikki’s eyes popped. “I forgot I had this,” she said, taking it from her.

“How could you forget something so gorgeous?”

“Temporary insanity,” she said, holding it up to herself. “I think it’ll still fit.”

“Then what are you waiting for Cinderella?”

Nikki started to take off her basic white tee shirt, but paused and glanced at Kaelin. “Um, could you maybe not look?”

She arched an eyebrow. “You do realize we’ve seen each other’s lady parts about a gazillion times right?”

“I know… I’m just having a low confidence day and don’t wanna think about you seeing my love handles.”

Suspicious, Kaelin obliged, covering her eyes again with her hand. “Better?”

Nikki smiled. “Much,” she said.

While it was true her self-esteem wasn’t at peak levels, it wasn’t the only reason Nikki had requested privacy. She didn’t want Kaelin to see the marks.

Dark inky bruises had popped up overnight, fanning across her abdomen and hips. There was no way she had run into anything hard enough to cause such severe injuries, not even on the worst day of work. Of course if Kaelin saw them she would immediately think she’d been hurt, no matter what Nikki told her. Hell, if she heard someone say Oh, those just showed up one day, and I don’t know how, she wouldn’t believe them either. It was easier to hide them until she saw her doctor again. He’d said the new migraine medication he put her on could have side effects, he just didn’t say she’d look like she’d gone several rounds with a world champion boxer.

When she was sure none of them were visible under the hem of her shirt, she announced she was finished.

“Oh my God you’re a super model,” Kaelin exclaimed.

“Trying to flatter me into buying you two chocolate martinis?”

“That depends. Is it working?”

She pursed her lips, feigning deep thought. “Maybe… I still haven’t heard anything about my ass though…”

“And your ass looks fantastic!” Kaelin said, excitedly gesturing. “All three Kardashian sisters are cursing God for not giving them your fabulous booty.”

“Alright, stop before you embarrass yourself.”

“Too late. Remember Martin?”

Nikki laughed. “Well lets go find you a man who will wash away all memories of HR Martin.”

“Ooh, can he have an accent?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Nikki gathered her purse and keys as they headed for the door. She started to turn the knob when Kaelin pulled up short.

“Wait,” she said, tugging Nikki’s forearm.

“What is it?”

“We can’t go.”

Nikki frowned, skin pricking with worry. “What? Why?”

“Because…” Kaelin backed up, heading towards the bedroom again. She disappeared, leaving Nikki where she stood. A moment later she returned, jubilant. “We forgot these.” Dangling from her fingers was a very long strand of condoms.

“Oh my God, are you planning on banging an entire Navy fleet?” Nikki gaped.

“Like that’s even possible.” Kaelin rolled her eyes. “You know it’s not Fleet-week.”

“Oh forgive me. I mixed up my annual sex holidays.”

“Do I need to write them on your calendar? ‘Cause you know I will.”

“Could you please put the Trojans in your bag?” Nikki pushed the prophylactics back at her friend.

“You take them. You’re the one we’re trying to get laid here.”

“First of all, we are not trying to ‘get me laid’. And secondly, even if we were, I would need one, possibly two, condoms max. Not half the box.” She waved her hand at the condom rope she was sure she could double-dutch with.

Kaelin found the middle perforation and ripped it apart. “Fine, I’ll take half and you take half. Better?”

“Sure.” Nikki took them quickly and shoved them into her purse. “Now can we go?”

“Of course we can you naughty girl.” Kaelin winked.

Sighing, Nikki opened the door. “Remind me why we’re friends…”

“Because you need someone to borrow clothes from.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

They stopped outside the building long enough for Nikki to lock the front door, cold air whipping around her legs and tangling her hair. While Kaelin went to hail a cab, Nikki finished with the deadbolt and shoved her keys into her purse.

A new chill crept up her back, raising goosebumps in its wake. Nikki tried to tell herself it was the weather, but the undeniable churning dread in her gut made it hard to believe. She glanced around, searching for the source, but found nothing. The block was quiet, save for a few cars and the mini mart on the corner.

“Hey, you ready?” Kaelin called, opening up the taxi door.

Nikki nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Ignoring the clawing urge to run back inside, Nikki climbed into the car after her friend and forced herself to smile. Everything was fine…

* * *

Griffin slid down into his overstuffed leather chair and stared at the towering bookshelf across from him. He should pick something to read. Reading always helped even him out after a long day, but he couldn’t focus his vision for very long. Lisa was probably right, that last knock on the head might’ve given him more than just another bruise.

Concussed or not, Griffin wasn’t in a mood to do much of anything.

Exhaustion weighed him down with aching bones. But it was nothing compared to the brutal ravaging of the inside of his skull.

The dogs were awake, and starving.

God, shut up, he thought with a hiss. You’ve had enough. Just… let me rest.

His… gift howled.

“I said no,” he muttered, slumping against the cushions, left side screaming in protest. He groaned, wrapping an arm around his abdomen.

A fractured rib, or maybe two, if he guessed from where the pain radiated. At least he’d healed up alright from the previous breaks.

The barrier he’d struggled to keep up all day began to bow under the pressure, the dogs tearing and clawing at his head, trying to get free. Shutting his eyes, Griffin took a deep breath and pushed back, supporting the mental walls built around his gift. They wouldn’t hold much longer, but it was better than nothing.

Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed in a hurry, making Griffin jerk. With his grip loose, the dogs lunged and tore out of their cage, rushing for the nearest subconscious. Memories flowed into Griffin like dirty sand, scraping as it smothered his own thoughts. He recognized the emotional signature, and choked out a sigh of relief. It was Boz. He was in Boz’s head. Better a friend than a random stranger passing on the street below.

But the dogs were ravenous, and just like any hungry animal, they sought out the most nourishing prey. That meant the deepest, heaviest memories. Things people wished they could forget…

I bet you can’t reach that top branch, Boz had called out to his younger brother.

I can too! Just watch!

The pungent odor of wet soil and cut grass filled Griffin’s nose. He heard birds in the distance, sunlight hot on the side of his face. His hands clenched, palms aching from phantom tree bark rubbing them raw.

No Liam, wait!

I can do it Boz!

But-

I’m almost to the top!

Wood splintering and the scared yelp of a little boy had Griffin surging forward; reacting to the vision only he could see. Sobbing still rang in his ears as he yanked on the dogs’ leash, desperate to haul them back to their cage.

B-Boz! I th-think it’s broken!

Hold on Liam, I’ll get mom!

With the little strength Griffin had left, he pulled his gift out of Boz’s head, but it didn’t come without a fight. Feral creatures never did. By the time they were locked in his own mind again, he was out of breath, nails gouging the leather under his hands.

He was grabbing the whiskey bottle before giving his body permission. It was at his lips, his stomach churning with fire. Gasping, he broke his seal on the rim and coughed. The bottle had been mostly full… now there was less than a third left.

Griffin’s head dropped back against the leather. “Fuck,” he muttered, still gripping the neck.

He was getting faster at chugging. But that wasn’t exactly a skill to put on a resume.

Once his stomach settled, Griffin lifted the bottle deliberately, and tipped it up.

Finally, the dogs were quiet- lulled into submission by the liquor coursing through his system. The resounding peace in his head had Griffin entertaining the idea of sleep, if only for a few moments. With heavy eyelids, he stretched out his legs and tucked the bottle into the crook of his arm.

Ten minutes, he thought. Just ten minutes…

In the indigo shade between asleep and awake, the dogs jumped the fence. This time however, the whiskey had done its job. His gift was drunk too. It slunk around the hallway, sniffing at the baseboards, tripping along the floor, unsure of where to find another mind to burrow into.

A lazy smirk spread across Griffin’s face. He knew he should tug on the leash before—

“Hey Griffin, you ready to go?” Lisa called.

Too late.

The dogs lapped at the tendrils of emotion radiating from Lisa and chased after them, rolling around in her mind like a soft patch of dirt.

“Son of a bitch.” Griffin pulled himself up, pressing his arms into the tops of his thighs.

Floor boards creaked with each step as Lisa moved closer. A firm knock was followed by, “Griffin?”

Setting the bottle down by his chair, Griffin swallowed hard and shuffled to the doorway. Light poured in from the corridor, blinding him. He blinked, trying not to wince.

Lisa frowned up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he croaked. Well, didn’t he sound convincing.

“You look like you feel sick,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied.

The dogs had found a dense cluster of memories and were devouring everything, filtering it back to Griffin in garbled chunks. His head throbbed as he tried to focus on the present situation, and not Lisa’s memories.

“Okay…” Lisa eyed him suspiciously. “Well Boz is done, so are you ready to go?”

Griffin furrowed his brow. “Go where?”

“To Onyx, remember? Tasha said she’d take us all out for drinks as a thank you for today.”

Griffin tried wading through Lisa’s memories to get to his own, but it took too long and she grew annoyed at his apparent lack of recognition.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

To be honest, he wasn’t sure if he had or not. It was too difficult to tell with her subconscious clouding over his.

“I guess so.” He half- shrugged as he pressed his arm into the edge of the door. Maybe the sensation would help keep him grounded…

It didn’t work.

The silvery tones of remembered voices drowned out Lisa’s as she spoke to him, completely oblivious to the internal battle he wasn’t winning.

No Boz, it’s not that…

“…Now that you’ve been reminded, you should get ready…”

This is different. He hasn’t been the same since…

“…Otto said he’s feeling better…”

He’s angry all the time. He just stays locked up in his room or the study and…

“…And Tasha did offer to buy our drinks for the night…”

Months, Boz! It’s been months. Before, when everything was fresh I could understand but now? He’s not even trying anymore. He promised he would and he isn’t, which…

“...Which is one hell of a thank you in my book…”

We can’t keep making excuses for him! It’s not doing him any favors!

“…So c’mon, get changed so we can go.”

Griffin could only stare. Two very conflicting sets of emotions washed through him- her current perplexed state of concern while clinging to her encouraging exterior, and the acidic contempt from her past conversation with Boz. About him. About Griffin’s constant stumbling failures, as a leader and a friend.

Lisa took a half step closer. “Griffin?”

He swallowed roughly. “I, uh… I don’t think I’m gonna be very good company tonight,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “You guys should go without me.”

Disappointment slumped her shoulders and a gentle frown curved her lips. “But I thought you said you felt fine.”

“Yeah, I…”

No Boz, I can’t.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t really…”

I can’t keep pretending everything’s okay. Griffin’s spiraling. Don’t act like you don’t see it too.

Lisa folded her arms across her chest. “Griffin, what’s going on?”

The silvery tone of Boz’s voice replaced Lisa’s in the memory. What are you saying Lisa? That he’s a lost cause? He’s our friend-

I know that! And this is killing me but-

But what?

But he’s sinking! And if we don’t do something, we’re gonna drown right along with him!

“Well if you’re so sure I’m the fucking Titanic, then why don’t you jump ship already?” Griffin growled, face hardening into a deep scowl.

He realized his mistake immediately, but the damage was done. His heart stuttered as he watched Lisa’s expression twist with pained shock. Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened as she stared up at him.

“What…” She shook her head. “You read me.”

Shame and remorse made his stomach roll. “Lisa…”

“You promised you wouldn’t read me again.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Betrayal rushed from her mind to his, caustic inside his skull.

“You didn’t mean to?” Lisa repeated bitterly.

“I’m too exhausted to control it,” he admitted. “Please, Lisa, I’m so-”

Her gaze drifted to the dimly lit room behind him. “Too exhausted? Or too drunk?”

Griffin didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know she was staring at the liquor bottle on the floor.

Fuck.

“I-” He started.

“Don’t.” Lisa cut him off. “I think it’s pretty obvious you’ve decided what’s more important to you tonight. And to be perfectly honest, I’m too tired to care anymore.”

His chest tightened painfully. “Lisa…” he said, nearly pleading.

“You wanna know the truth?” she asked, facing him. “I was trying to convince myself you weren’t a sinking ship. Every day I tell myself you’re trying. That the last few years have been hard for you, and that you’re doing the best you can. And for a while, I think I believed it. I tricked myself into thinking that you care. But really you’re just trying to numb the pain until you can’t keep your head above water anymore.”

Griffin’s insides began to deaden, like frostbite. Hearing Lisa declare what he’d suspected all along released a strange pressure he’d been burdened with for what seemed like ages. Instead of relief, however, he felt isolated.

“Fine,” he said, voice scarily quiet. “Consider yourself absolved of all that disappointment and guilt you’ve been carrying around. Now you don’t have to keep pretending, because nobody will expect you to actually give a shit anymore. There’s your life raft. Enjoy your newfound freedom.”

Lisa’s anger flared and he felt its heat in his core, but she stayed silent. Her glare roamed over his face once more before she spun and strode down the hall. He listened to her jog down the stairs.

Griffin lingered in the doorway. Guilt soured his stomach, made his hands twitch, but his fury combined with Lisa’s was a hard force to overcome. Years ago he would have gone after her, explained himself, tried to repair the damage he’d caused. His feet stayed planted to the hardwood.

He listened to Boz and Lisa’s muffled voices, followed by the sound of the door closing behind them as they left.

And then there was one…

Inhaling deeply, Griffin corralled his gift and tossed it back into its cage, still loopy and sated from the two minds it read. Maybe he’d finally get some sleep.

Clicking the mental lock, Griffin scowled as he pulled the door shut.

“Stay,” he said, falling into his chair and closing his eyes.

* * *

Griffin woke with his teeth on edge and his hands balled into fists. The hair at his temples was damp, beads of sweat trailing down his neck. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he lurched forward, expecting to vomit but it never came.

He usually felt this kind of nausea after reading a Vampire, and he wondered if the dogs had slipped past the gate again.

Hunched over, with his head in his hands, Griffin forced air into his lungs. Deep, even breaths, in through his nose and out of his mouth just like every self-help article about panic attacks had told him. There were no books about being a Seer. Those would have been more helpful than the psychology magazines.

Griffin took another full breath and realized what was missing- pain. The bruises and cuts along his jaw had faded, and his ribs barely ached. His gift had done its second job; it stitched him back together.

His muscles burned with life, pulse beating out a serious rhythm in his ears. Griffin got to his feet, pacing the length of the study in front of the windows. Each footfall stomped in sync with his heart- thunk, thunk, thunk. There was a downbeat when he turned and then the tempo picked up again. A word started to overlay the sound of his boots, thumping louder and louder as he moved. Hunt, Hunt, Hunt…

He gripped a handful of hair and tugged at it until his scalp burned. No matter what kind of advantages he had in the field, Hunting alone was dangerous. If Boz and Lisa found out he’d gone patrolling without them they’d rip him a new one.

Hunt, Hunt, Hunt…

He glanced at bottle of whiskey next to his chair and thought about drinking away the urge- the need- building in his chest.

Hunt, Hunt, Hunt-

The dogs growled and Griffin’s resolve snapped.

“Fuck it,” he muttered and spun on his heel.

He’d deal with Boz and Lisa’s disappointment later.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Lessons (one shot) Dark!Gabriel

A/N: Smut. Dub con. Dark!Gabriel

Words: 2, 141

Summary: Audrey is tired of Gabriel ignoring her. After sneaking out when being told not to she learns quick that pissing Gabriel can be a good or bad thing. 

Pairings: Gabriel x OFC

_________________

“Gabriel please. I need you.”

Nothing

Audrey sighed. It was just another prayer. Another prayer that was wasted. Just a GIANT fucking waste of her time! Audrey sat down on the hotel bed with an exasperated sigh.

It had been months since she had seen Gabriel. After being with someone for two years then absolutely nothing as far as contact was miserable. He didn’t mind to keep her up in a fancy hotel but heaven forbid if he made contact.

Audrey knew with the war in heaven that was taking the majority of his time. That was totally understandable but what she didn’t get was he couldn’t give her any sign that he was okay. She wasn’t asking him to walk away from the conflict or give up just a hey I am okay. I’ll see you soon.

The last time that she had seen Gabriel something was off. He wasn’t 100% there. He seems almost on autopilot and was rougher than he had ever been when it came to making love. In fact he had almost threatened her when she mentioned going back home to her mother.

“You’re mine. You aren’t going anywhere.  When I come back you better be right here waiting for me.”

Audrey only nodded not sure what to say to her lover as he turned disappearing without another word.

Now here she sat on that same bed staring at the wall like a caged bird.

“Gabriel if you can hear me you better get down here! You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Again nothing

“That’s it! I’m going out.”

Audrey said coldly. When no archangel appeared in the room she stood. She was tired of being the dutiful lover. If Gabriel didn’t have the time for her then she didn’t have the time to sit here and let her life waste away. So what if he was keeping her young and healthy. If he didn’t come at the threat of her walking out then he would probably have no clue that she went to do something outside of the hotel room.

Sitting down on the first stood Audrey smiled as the bartender walked over.

“Time for some fun.”

Audrey thought. The bartender handed her a small menu.

“What can I get you sweetheart?”

Audrey smiled.

“Jack and coke.”

The bartender nodded before going to prepare her drink.

“I like a girl that can handle whiskey.”

Audrey turned to face a man with dark eyes and neatly styled brown hair. He looked taller than Gabriel but would stand no match when it came to him.

“Yeah? Well I can handle it pretty well.”

Audrey said with an innocent smile. Normally she would be ashamed with her behavior. Tonight however not a fuck was to be given.

“Well I think that is amazing. My names Ryan.”

Audrey eagerly shook his hand.

“Audrey.”

It didn’t take long and very many shots of Jack before Audrey was forgetting all about her pain over Gabriel. In fact she hadn’t thought about his name in a while. Ryan and his funny stories was almost too perfect. He was making her laugh about the smallest things.

“Hey wanna go outside? I need a smoke.”

Ryan asked with a funny grin. Audrey quickly picked up the small handbag that she had brought with her before following Ryan outside. She didn’t notice that Gabriel’s name was lighting up on her cell phone until she reached the door. With a drunken shrug Audrey pushed ignore and walked out.

Ryan quickly lit a cigarette before looking to Audrey.

“I’ve had a good time tonight. You’re really pretty. Do you got a man?”

Audrey shrugged.

“When he wants to be. Haven’t heard from him in a while.”

Ryan nodded.

“Works out of town.”

Audrey laughed coldly.

“You could say that.”

Ryan took a drag on his cigarette before looking a little more intense.

“Why don’t you come home with me? You look like you haven’t been fucked enough.”

Before Audrey could respond blood shot out of Ryan’s mouth and a bloody gash appeared on stomach immediately soaking through his white shirt. Audrey’s eyes widened as the man hit the ground. Her eyes rolled up to see Gabriel standing behind the now dead Ryan looking like he was ready to raise hell.

“Gabe…Gabriel!”

Audrey managed to squeak. Gabriel’s honey eyes looked cold and here was something sinister about them as he looked at her.

“Having fun honey bunch?”

Audrey blinked as Gabriel stepped over Ryan like he was a piece of garbage in the road. Before she could respond Gabriel’s hand was around her throat.

“I asked if you had fun? I suggest you answer me.”

Audrey swallowed as Gabriel increased the pressure on her throat.

“Well I was. What are you doing here?”

Gabriel seemed to ignore her answer as he looked at his girlfriend’s scantily clad appearance.  

“Are you a fucking idiot?! I could hear everything you were doing! It was all over the damn angel radio! Where the hell are your clothes? I know you have them. What did you expect to get out of all of this? Some mortal to take you back to their place and fuck you silly. I have news for you sweetheart that isn’t going to happen.

Audrey pushed him off yanking the shoulder strap of her dress up.

“What the fuck does it matter to you?! You don’t ever show the fuck up anymore! So what if I want to go out and have a little fun. Not like you give a good god damn. Oh look at that I said god! Naughty me!”

The look on Gabriel’s face showed nothing but fury and rage!

‘That’s it! I have had with you! You have went way over the line! I tell you to stay in the hotel room and here you are like a damn street walker.”

Gabriel reached out grabbing Audrey’s hand. The next thing she knew they were standing in the hotel room. After the room stopped spinning she looked back to Gabriel who was still beyond livid. He walked over yanking Audrey to him for a rough kiss. Audrey cried out the moment his teeth latched on to her bottom lip and his hand roughly squeezed her left butt cheek.

“Gabe!”

She moaned his name as his kiss eased up into a gentle and almost romantic kiss. Gabriel quickly pushed her away and onto the the bed. Audrey looked up at him with with eyes as he towered over her.

“Time for a little lesson on how our relationship works. You do what I tell you and you won’t get punished like you are about to now. I am done being sweet to you. You’re mine and that’s it. I’ll kill any worthless person that gets in my way. You were about to put out for another man so I am going to fuck you like the whore that you are.”

He reached down quickly ripping the black dress from her body leaving Audrey naked below him.

“Gabriel, what is wrong with you? This isn’t you.”

Audrey cried out as he yanked his own shirt over his head in a blind rage. Gabriel looked down at her with a cold smirk.

“This war has changed me peach. You get what you fucking get!”

Audrey was scared! Scared and slightly turned on….however, she was afraid to admit the last part. Maybe she could pray to Cas for help. He would show up if she needed something.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Gabriel sneered coldly as he reached down slamming a finger into her wet core.

“Ah you’re wet…just like I expected. You really are a slut.”

He growled as he curled his finger letting his thumb stroke over her clit. Audrey threw her head back into the pillow as Gabriel continued his assault.

“Gabriel please. I love you.”

“Ha….yeah right and I was born yesterday. Let me tell you a thing precious…”

Gabriel took his hand away as he began to undress himself. Audrey couldn’t help wondering why he wasn’t just using his grace to undress like normal.

“You are all mine. Mine to pleasure. Mine to taste and most importantly mine to love.”

Gabriel elongated the word “love” before his grace slammed into her body full force. Audrey cried out as the pressure in her body intensified. It felt just like Gabriel fucking her yet this was different. There was something that made this even more intense. It went on until Audrey was unable to cry his name instead she was praying. Gabriel chuckled.

“That’s right sweetheart pray to me. Look at us. Me using my god given powers to fuck you into next week while you moan like a dirty harlot. We would both be fucking crucified in heaven for this. Its worth it though…seeing you spread open like this just waiting for me to touch you. I could look at it all day.”

Audrey cried out again. This time she was finally able to get some verbal words out.

“Gabriel please. I’m sorry. I was so angry. I was worried about you. It has been too long since I saw you and I needed….”

“Shut up.”

The archangel said coldly before making his grace stop. Audrey gasped, her chest heaving. She was thankful that he had given her a few seconds break. It wasn’t long until his cock was slamming into her.

“You just thought that you was going to get away without this huh? Did you think that I wouldn’t claim what was mine? Well you’re wrong.”

Gabriel’s hand found its way back to Audrey’s throat as he forced her to look in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare shut those eyes. If you do it will be the last thing you ever do. Do you hear me?”

“Yes!”

Audrey squealed as Gabriel’s increased the pace of his thrusts each time his cock feeling bigger than it was the moment before.

“You leave this hotel room again…”

Audrey shook her head.

“I won’t….not without you! I’ve learned my lesson.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t believe you. Sugar snap I have seen hell and I know what liars look like. You are just saying shit to make me happy. Best thing you can do is hush. Ah what the hell. You don’t need that voice. I took John’s voice away in the bible not to mention that over grown Dean Winchester and his brother. What does yours matter for a little bit?”

Gabriel snapped and Audrey no longer had the ability to speak. He grinned looking like a mirthful child at Christmas.

“Much better.”

Gabriel said softly as he went back to pummeling her body harder with his. Focusing his hone eyes on her clit, Gabriel focused his grace on the tender tissue. Audrey’s blue eyes were beyond wide as she raised her hips to meet his thrusts.

“That’s a good girl. I love you Audrey. I love everything about you. You are the only human that I have never been able to get enough of. Mhm I love the way you take my cock. Come for me sugar.”

Gabriel growled as his cock made contact with her cervix. Between repeated hits to her cervix and his grace on her clit Audrey was spiraling out of control. The moment her orgasm started to wash her over Gabriel immediately gave her voice back. Audrey was shrieking his name as Gabriel closed his eyes coming hard inside of her.

Neither moved for a  moment. Gabriel sighed happily.

“I’m going to be coming back home more often.”

Audrey looked up at him with timid eyes.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened taking on that sinister expression as he smiled coldly.

“That’s up to you and your pussy to decide. Time for you be doing your duties to me. My suggestion to you princess is remember what I can give to you. What I can do to you and most importantly no one will ever be able to make you come like I can. Also it wouldn’t hurt remember the hell I can bring you. Got that cupcake?”

“Yes sir…”

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