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flowersforbucky · 3 months

Text

oil & water

bucky barnes x reader

prompt - "If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so."

shout out to @ellemj for her encouragement with this ♡

warnings/tags: SMUT, vaginal penetration, oral sex (female receving), face sitting, mentions of violence, description of blood & wounds, no use of y/n, reader is afab, hurt/comfort trope, bickering & banter, friends to lovers, forced close proximity trope. 18 plus only!

word count: 5.8k

“Roll your window up,” Bucky snaps at you as he turns down the music you had just put on moments ago. “The last thing we need is someone noticing the blood caked all over the entire right side of your body.”

As if the lack of functioning AC in the twenty-something year old getaway car (an early 2000’s model Chevy Aveo is inconspicuous, according to Sam) wasn’t stifling enough in the south Georgia summer, the annoyance radiating from the brooding super soldier sitting next to you adds an extra ten degrees.

Sure, Sam. Inconspicuous is the right word to describe a six foot, two hundred plus pound man with a metal arm cramped behind the driver’s seat of the equivalent to a clown car. Bright fucking cherry red and all.

“It’s 103 degrees outside.” You glare at him from the passenger seat, where you’re using a tattered handkerchief found in the glove compartment to put pressure on the knife wound on your shoulder. “I’m going to have a heatstroke.”

“You’re not going to have a heatstroke,” he rolls his eyes at you. “That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” you say under your breath, reluctantly rolling up the manual window with your still bleeding arm. “I got the fucking intel, did I not?”

You remove the USB drive from its secure location in the cup of your bra and flash it at Bucky. “Though we’ll be lucky if this thing still works after being drowned in boob sweat, since you won’t let me keep the window rolled down.”

“And nearly got yourself killed in the process.” He grabs the flashdrive from you and grimaces. “We’ll be at the safehouse in less than five minutes, if you can please just refrain from stroking out or bleeding out in the meantime.”

You glance down at the once white handkerchief clutched in your hand. “I’m not making you any guarantees.”

You're welcome for saving your ass, by the way, you resist adding.

Jokes aside, the energy exerted in bringing down over a dozen HYDRA agents in combination with the July heat and the substantial blood loss from your shoulder wound has you feeling woozier by the minute. Factor in a few potentially fractured ribs and a dislocated knee and you're in pretty rough shape.

As promised, just under five minutes later Bucky parks in front of a small trailer just outside the city limits of Valdosta. It's seen better days, but you don't mind as long as it has semi-functioning air conditioning.

Bucky is opening your car door and offering you a hand up before you can take in your surroundings. You force yourself out of your seat, ignoring his outstretched hand and attempting to stand on your own, doing your best to ignore the borderline blinding pain radiating from your right knee.

“Thanks, but I think I can–”

Your vision goes fuzzy as you stumble forward, right into Bucky's chest. Your hand instinctively clutches the fabric of his shirt as you attempt to regain your balance.

“Let me guess. You're capable of stitching up your own shoulder, too?”

He gently loops his arm around your waist, slowly walking the two of you to the front door of the trailer. You try to focus on keeping pressure on the gash on your shoulder and not the feeling of his toned body pressed against you. How does he smell so good after hand to hand combat and sitting in that sauna of a car? You're sure you probably smell like a wet diaper that's been left in the sun for–

Bucky opens the door and guides you inside. The interior of the safehouse is surprisingly homey and clean. It's still uncomfortably warm, but offers a nice reprieve from the violent mid-day sun.

Bucky leads you into the small living space before maneuvering you out of his hold, where you all but collapse onto a suede sofa.

“I guess you do have some amount of good luck, after all,” you mumble, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky glances at you from over his shoulder as he flicks on the AC.

“That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck,” you quote his sarcastic comment from the car ride.

“Ha-ha-ha,” he fake laughs just as you did. He rummages through a few cabinets and drawers of the small kitchen before finding everything he’s searching for, then makes his way back to where you are on the couch.

“Drink this.” He hands you a bottle of water that you hadn't even noticed him grab. For once you don't object to his instructions, uncapping the bottle and gulping down the contents as quickly as you can.

“You're not having a heatstroke,” he assures you. “But you are going to have to let me stitch up this crater on your shoulder and pop your knee back into place.”

You sit forward, removing the now fully soaked cloth that you've been holding to your shoulder for the last half hour.

Bucky winces at the sight of it, handing you a dishrag before opening a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “You might want to bite down on–”

“I know the drill.” You sigh before putting the rag between your teeth.

He hesitates for a moment before pouring the clear liquid over the wound. You groan against the rag, your eyes squint shut in pain. You've had your fair share of broken bones and black eyes working in this field, but you don't think you'll ever get used to the pain of getting stitches without the comforts of saline solution and anesthesia.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dabbing the cut dry with a paper towel.

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. “It's part of the job. I've come out of missions worse than this before,” you shrug, squeezing the dish rag he gave you until your knuckles go white as he makes the first incision.

“Never because of me.”

You glance at him, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. His gaze doesn't leave the thread and needle that he's using to close up the gash on your arm - his normally plump pout set into a hard line.

“You know this isn't your fault, right?” You keep your eyes locked on him. “I saw that guy coming at you out of nowhere and I panicked. I wasn't watching my own back. That's my fault, not yours,” you say earnestly.

“If you say so.” He glances up for a split second, giving you a tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“Is that why you've been such a grouch? You're blaming yourself for me not being careful enough?”

“Maybe,” he admits quietly. “Or maybe I just hate seeing you covered in blood for any reason.”

You freeze at the bluntness of his words. You and Bucky have been partners on more missions than you could count at this point - you know that he would have done the same for you if the situation had been reversed; in fact, there had been times where he had taken the brunt of the fight in order to protect you.

All of those instances suddenly flash through your mind.

The time he used himself as a human shield when there was a bomb set off during a recon mission at a warehouse in Tokyo. Or when he football tackled you out of the direct line of an incoming dagger during an operation in Portland. Not to mention the time he left a job all the way in Prague unfinished because he merely suspected you had a concussion.

You had always chalked it up to “that’s what partners do,” but the pained expression on his face as he refuses to meet your eyes has you questioning if there could possibly be more to it.

No. You’re his partner. He’d do the same for anyone else. He wouldn’t want to see anyone on his team covered in blood if he could prevent it.

The two of you sit in a thick silence while he finishes stitching you up.

“There,” he says at last, clipping the excess suture thread with scissors. “Not quite as good as your stitch work, but I think it’ll hold you together.” His voice isn’t as strained as it was moments ago, though you can't help but notice it sounds forced.

“Thank you,” you tell him, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed the tiniest bit at his compliment. “Now for the really fun part,” you add, staring at your throbbing knee.

“You’re in luck,” he says, perking up a bit. “I’ve popped my own knees back into place an embarrassing amount of times, so this should be a breeze.” He repositions himself to have better access to your leg, moving off the couch to perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. You attempt to pull the tight fabric of your tactical pants up enough to give him unhindered access to your knee, but it’s too restrictive, immediately causing you to wince in pain.

“Fuck,” you huff. “I’m going to have to take these off.” You pop the button at the top of your pants and begin to push them down your thighs before insecurity can get the better of you. You try not to think about the fact that Bucky's never seen you in such little clothing - pants now pushed down to your calves, only your underwear and the bra and thin tank top you wore underneath the tactical vest that you took off as soon as you were in the safety of the getaway car left to cover you.

Hesitation flashes across Bucky’s face for a brief moment before he scoots over slightly, moving directly in front of you so that he can position his hands on either side of your kneecap. You’re painfully aware of the polar opposite feeling of his right and left hand - his flesh hand is warm and so much softer than you’d expect, his metal one icy and smooth. You aren’t sure which causes the visible goosebumps that now litter your skin.

Maybe it’s not his touch at all. Maybe it’s the way his eyes haven’t left your thighs since you exposed them.

Maybe it’s the fact that if you parted your legs just a few inches, he’d be nestled between them.

Chill out, you berate yourself. He's just relocating your knee for Christ's sake.

“On the count of three,” he starts and you brace yourself. “One, two–”

“MOTHERFUCKER.” You yell out at the same moment your knee creates a loud cracking noise that echoes off the walls of the small trailer. “You said count of three!”

“Would that really have made it less painful?” He shrugs, but doesn't move from where his knees brush against yours. “I think what you mean to say is “thank you, Bucky, you're a lifesaver and I'm now in your debt.”

“In your fuckin’ dreams,” you scoff. “I'm going to wash all of this blood and sweat off of me.” You move to push yourself off of the couch, tugging your pants back up as you stand. You can feel his eyes trail up your body as you do, making you feel woozy all over again. You turn away from him, heading towards the hallway that the bathroom is likely located down.

“I could have done that through your pants, by the way.”

You freeze mid-step, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean?” You snap at him.

“Your knee,” he clarifies, a hint of undeniable mischief in his expression. “I could have popped your knee back into place through your pants. If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so.”

Just when you thought the safehouse was starting to cool down, your entire body heats up a thousand degrees. You're racking your brain trying to think of a retort when Bucky's ringtone starts blaring from the kitchen countertop. He ignores it, his eyes not leaving yours for what feels like an eternity.

You finally break the silence. “That's most likely Sam wanting to make sure we're not dead. Should probably answer it.”

“Probably should,” he smirks, and at last gets up from the coffee table to answer the phone.

You scurry the rest of the way to the bathroom before he can look back at you again, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from your ribcage and the now dull ache that spreads from your knee.

You turn the water to cold, and don't get out until you've started to shiver.

— — — — —

When you exit the bathroom and step back into the connected bedroom in only a towel, you see that Bucky has done you the kindness of bringing in the bags that had been stored in the backseat of the getaway car.

You dig through your backpack, pulling out a fresh t-shirt and pair of leggings. From the next room, you can smell the aroma of whatever non-perishable food that Bucky has scrounged together. Despite your growing hunger pains, you take your sweet time combing through your freshly rinsed hair. The thought of looking Bucky in the eye after your last interaction nearly makes you lose your appetite.

What was I thinking? Oh right, I wasn't thinking at all, otherwise I wouldn't have just pushed my fucking pants down right in front of–

“Your five course dinner is getting cold.” Bucky raps his fingers against the bedroom door, startling you from your thoughts.

“Be right there,” you call back to him, swiping some deodorant under your arms. You take a glance at yourself in the bedroom’s small vanity mirror and immediately wish that you hadn't – you're cleaner than you were by miles, at least no longer covered in your own blood as well as the blood of HYDRA agents – but your cheekbone is lightly bruised, there's a slit on your bottom lip, and the bags under your eyes make it look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in a month.

You take a deep breath and then walk back to the one room that makes up the kitchen, dining area and living room.

“Beef or shrimp ramen?” Bucky asks as you climb onto one of the barstools on the opposite side of the counter from where he's standing.

“Hm,” you contemplate, not meeting his stare and instead occupying yourself with another bottle of water that he's placed where you now sit.

Fucker probably wouldn't fluster me so bad if he wasn't being so damn thoughtful.

“I'll go with shrimp,” you answer, remembering that beef is his favorite.

He slides the bowl across the counter and then hands you a fork. You finally get the nerve to look up and meet his stare that feels as if it weighs two tons.

“So, what did Sam say?” You try to go for light conversation, twisting the fork around your noodles. “Are we free to get out of here once it's dark out?”

“Not…quite,” he hesitates, now seeming particularly interested in his own food. “The car battery kind of died.”

“What do you mean the car battery kind of died?”

“While you were in the shower, I tried to move the car behind the house so that anyone driving by wouldn't immediately know that someone's here. It started fine, but as I was driving it around back it just.. stopped. Had to push it the rest of the way.”

You let out a dramatic groan as he continues.

“I called Sam again and he said the earliest they can send someone to get us is in the morning.”

“Well,” you exhale, blowing a raspberry with your lips. “We can flip a coin to see who gets the bed?” You ask lightheartedly. This isn’t the first time that you and Bucky have had an overnight mission together, but it is the first overnight mission where the two of you haven’t had your own motel rooms or at least a safehouse with two beds.

He looks at you quizzically, furrowing his eyebrows. “You really think there’s a chance of me making you sleep on the couch? In your condition?”

“My condition?” you laugh. “I’ve got a few stitches, I’m not dying of cancer.”

“You don’t think I’ve noticed the way it’s uncomfortable for you to inhale and exhale? You’ve probably got a couple fractured ribs with the way you landed on that cement. If not fractured, then at least heavily bruised. You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

Between his tone and the look on his face, you know it isn’t up for debate. You throw your hands up in faux surrender.

“Serving me instant ramen and letting me take the king sized bed?” you say teasingly. “Keep it up and I'm going to think that you're soft on me.”

His gaze on you is heavy as he takes a long sip of water from his own bottle. “Wouldn't that be a shame?”

— — — — —

The rest of the afternoon is spent with you lounging in bed, resting your injuries and reading some cheesy western romance novel that you found in the drawer of the bedside table.

Bucky keeps to the living room, where you hear a violent sounding movie playing from a TV that has to be as old as you are.

You tell yourself that you're staying in the bedroom because you need to take it easy and relax, but truthfully you feel suffocated by the tension that has been escalating between you and Bucky since you arrived here.

A certain level of tension had always been there, you knew deep down. From the first time the two of you met almost two years ago.

Bucky had been formally introduced to the team just a few weeks prior, and it was his first official mission. An undercover mission - just the two of you.

Posing as an engaged couple at a party thrown at the estate of a notorious crime boss in order to obtain intel. Pretty straight forward - it was far from your first undercover mission. And then it was sprung on you at the last minute that the man who you'd only met once, less than a month ago, was to be your fiancé for the evening.

The bastard even went as far as to slip the fake engagement ring on your finger himself.

“Natasha picked this out. She said it needed to be a princess cut, because that's what you like.”

You chuckled as he went to slide the rock onto your ring finger. “What? You're not going to get down on one knee?”

The mission went shockingly smooth, you and Bucky were in and out with the needed intel in just a few hours. But those few hours replayed in the back of your mind more often than you care to admit.

The way his arm stayed wrapped securely around your shoulder or waist the entire hour that you mingled as guests. How he pulled you into a slow dance to discuss the plan for sneaking into the study on an off-limits floor. The musky smell of his aftershave and the spearmint on his breath.

And especially the way he referred to you as his “bride” when introducing yourselves to people, on more than one occasion throughout the night.

“And who is this absolutely beautiful young woman on your arm?” an elderly man with eye boogers and booze on his breath asks Bucky.

“This is my bride,” Bucky introduces you, giving him your undercover name. “She is beautiful, isn’t she? Most beautiful woman here, if I do say so myself.”

Saying that Bucky played his part well that night would have been an understatement. Saying that he played his part scarily well would be a more accurate assertion.

After grabbing the intel and fleeing the scene, neither of you ever mentioned that mission again. Not the lingering touches, smoldering stares - not even the way he shoved you up against the wall of a corridor, cupped your face in his large hands, and kissed you senseless for half a minute when you came close to getting caught sneaking into the private office by security at the very end of the evening.

“Do you think that was believable?” he asks nervously, his hands still clutching your face as he looks around the hallway for any lingering guards.

“Ye-yeah,” you stutter breathily. “As believable as it possibly could be.”

There’s a light knock on the partially open bedroom door that draws you back to the reality of the safehouse. You realize that you’ve been staring at the same paragraph in your book for the last half hour.

"Yeah?” you answer, bringing yourself to a sitting position.

Bucky peaks his head around the door, opening it further so that you can see what he is carrying.

“I’m tired of watching old James Bond movies,” he sighs, glancing between you and the stack of board games in his arms. “I found these in the TV stand.”

“I kicked your ass in Battleship last time we played,” you remind him. “Do you really want a rematch of that?”

“How about we make a bet?”

— — — — —

Half an hour later, you've eaten your own words, now owing Bucky a large meat lovers pizza from his favorite parlor in Brooklyn and two weeks worth of laundry duty when you return to the compound.

“How'd you get so good?” you demand as he makes the winning attack. “You were so lame at this last time.”

“Maybe I just let you win last time,” he shrugs with a shit-eating grin.

You just shake your head in defeat, wincing as you stand up from where you had been playing on the shag area rug in the living room.

“No,” you declare firmly. “No, I don't believe that. There's no way you'd willingly let me win anything. I've learned that the hard way during hand to hand combat training way too many times.”

Bucky belly laughs from where he still sits on the floor, his gaze trailing after you.

You walk over to where he has piled the board games on the coffee table, trying to find something you were confident you could win.

Monopoly isn't fun with only two players, Risk takes too long —

Your eyes lock onto a card game peeking out from underneath the Sorry! box.

You pick it up, turning back to face him with a growing smile on your face.

“Absolutely not,” he says firmly. “I'm over a hundred years old–”

“What does age have to do with truth or dare?!” You exclaim, sitting back down on the floor once more.

“I haven't been roped into a game of truth or dare since the 1930's,” he groans.

“Scared of what you might have to do?” You tease, unboxing the cards. “Or what you might have to admit?”

He stares at you for a long moment, pursing his lips. The disapproval doesn't quite reach his eyes - you can tell by the way they gleam that he's going to cave.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits. He tousles his fingers through his hair and moves to cross his legs at the ankles. “Fine,” he relents. “One game.”

You squeal like a kid in a candy store as you shuffle the deck of cards and lay them in a stack between you.

“Elders first,” you motion to the pile.

He rolls his eyes, drawing one from the top – dare.

“Smell another player's armpit,” he deadpans. You're instantly thankful that you remembered to cram a stick of deodorant into your backpack when packing for the mission.

“Well?” You lift up your arm. “I'm the only other player here and it's not going to sniff itself.”

Bucky sighs, leaning across the game to put his nose directly next to the opening of your t-shirt sleeve. “Lavender,” he observes after inhaling, giving you an approving nod. “As far as dares go, I got lucky.”

“Lucky that I showered earlier,” you mumble as you draw your turn, your cheeks warming slightly.

Truth.

“Who was your last kiss with and what was it like?”

Your heart plummets to your stomach as you read the words aloud. Bucky waits impatiently as you fiddle with the piece of paper in your hands.

“Might I remind you, you are the one who wanted to play this game so desp–”

You hold up a finger and make a shushing sound, silencing him as he grins menacingly.

“My last kiss was almost two years ago,” you answer honestly, looking back down at the card to avoid his stare. He can always tell when you're lying, why even try?

“With a man I barely knew,” you continue. “We had to pretend to be in love for the evening. It was a shockingly easy thing to do. When he pushed me up against a wall and kissed me as a distraction to security guards, I had to remind myself that it was an act. We never spoke about it again. But now two years later, I'm telling him that I think of that kiss often.”

When you finally look up, you can't decipher the look on his face. Long gone is the mischievous grin from just moments ago, in its place is.. shock? Perplexity?

“And why exactly have you not kissed anyone else since then?” He asks quietly.

“Nope,” you say, popping your lips on the p. “That's not how the game works, you don't get to add sub-questions.”

His eyes don't leave yours as he draws his next card.

His turn for truth. He glances down to read his question.

“Have you ever wanted to have sex with any of the players?”

Forget your cheeks feeling warm - your entire body feels like it's on fire as you wait for him to answer.

He chuckles, tossing the card on top of the other two that had already been picked.

“Every goddamn day since I kissed her almost two years ago.”

You aren't sure which one of you snaps first. You lunge forward at the same moment that he's leaning across the splay of cards to grasp your face in his hands just like he did in that corridor two years ago. The same hint of spearmint on his breath, a bit more stubble on his jaw, and a sense of desperation that wasn't there before.

He moves his hands to your lower back, pulling you flush against him as you both sit on your knees. Your own hands find the hem of his shirt, your fingers dancing across the skin of his waistline.

“I asked you why you haven't kissed anyone since we last kissed,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away, both of you breathless. “You don't have to answer, but that..” his mouth moves to the side of your throat where he trails open-mouth kisses across the sensitive flesh of your pulse point.

“That's why I haven't kissed anyone else, either.”

A pathetic, small moan escapes past your lips at his admission. In a split second decision, you take control. You place your hands across his chest, pushing him down onto the shag rug that you'd been playing games on just moments ago. He lets himself fall back, pulling you with him.

You straddle him, positioning yourself directly on his already evident erection. You drag yourself forwards, and then backwards, desperate for friction - he groans beneath you, jutting upwards.

The fabric of your pants between you feels like a prison.

You scoot back a few inches - just far enough to give yourself enough room to unbutton his jeans.

“Wait, wait,” he stops you as you're about to begin pulling down his pants and underwear. You freeze, petrified that you've crossed a line–

“I haven't stopped thinking about having your thighs wrapped around my head since I saw them earlier,” he says as he hooks his hands around them and hauls you up to his chest. “Take these off and sit on my face.” He tugs on the waistline of your leggings.

“If you wanted me to take my pants off for you so badly, you could have just said so,” you echo his earlier teasing.

“I'm asking you now, sweetheart,” his voice has a strained edge to it. “Don't make me beg.”

Though the notion of him begging has wetness pooling down your thighs, you're too eager to entertain it.

You stand up, directly above him as he keeps his position on the floor. You shimmy your leggings down your thighs, this time completely removing them and tossing them somewhere behind you. He tugs his t-shirt over his head and throws it in the general direction of your discarded pants.

With you still standing above him, he leans forward so that his face brushes against the inside of your thighs. He brings his hands to the band of your underwear, hooking his fingers and slowly pulling them down until they're at your ankles.

You slip them off as he lays back down on the floor. A bit apprehensively, you sit so that your bare pussy is against his hard chest.

“Just stop me if it's too uncomfortable or if you can't breathe or any–”

He cuts you off by all but picking you up and hauling you up to his face.

“I wouldn't worry about that,” his voice vibrates against the flesh of your innermost thighs. He tugs you down just one more inch so that his mouth makes contact with your center.

You gasp out in pleasure as his tongue begins exploring your folds. There's no restraint about it - he sets a brutal pace, alternating between fucking his tongue into your cunt and sucking on your clit.

You're writhing above him, grinding your pussy against his mouth. You go to squeeze your breasts, pulling your t-shirt off when you realize it's the one clothing article you've yet to shed.

When he realizes that you're now completely naked above him, he lets out an animalistic groan as he laps a thick lick up your center.

The vibration, in addition to him now squeezing your ass with enough pressure that he's bound to leave behind fingertip shaped bruises, is enough to send you spiraling to your climax.

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs around his cheeks, riding out your orgasm as he continues to wrap his lips around your throbbing clitoris.

You go still for a moment, aside from your heaving chest, as you come back down to earth.

You climb off of him, your jellified legs nearly causing you to collapse onto the floor next to him.

He props himself up with one arm, looking down at you. His face is thoroughly glistening with your juices.

You can't help but think he's never looked hotter.

A proud grin begins to form across his features as you pull him down to you by the back of his neck.

You kiss him with as much feverency as you can muster in your post orgasm haze, tasting the semi-sweet tang of your come on his lips and tongue.

“It's your turn to get these off,” you demand, drawing back from the kiss to pull at the waistband of his pants.

“Can I at least take you to the comfy bed before this goes any further?” he bargains. “You are still recovering from multiple injuries, you know.”

“I can assure you that I've never felt better.” But you let him have his way. He stands before picking you up, lifting you so that you can wrap your legs securely around his midsection. His large hands planted firmly on your ass, he walks the short distance to the bedroom. Your nipples pebble as they press against his bare chest.

He gently places you on top of the comforter before standing back, at last removing his jeans and boxers. His cock springs forward, slapping against his lower belly.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. If it had been a long time since you had been kissed, it had been even longer since you had been fucked.

He crawls onto the bed, hovering above where you lay. You automatically open your legs to allow him between them.

His eyes rake up and down your body, pausing on your breasts.

"You're goddamn stunning.”

Before you can respond, he's leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. Rolling it between his teeth, the sensation has you arching your back into his touch. You can feel the tip of his cock jutting against your core - teasing but not yet entering.

He starts to line himself up at your hole, his eyes locking onto yours as he pumps himself in his hand. He brings his lips down to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth at the same moment he nudges his tip past your entrance.

There's a blissful burn as he cautiously buries himself inside you - you're simultaneously thankful that he's going slow and needing him balls deep. He pushes in, inch by inch, until you're filled to the hilt. When he can't get any deeper, he pulls back - and slams back into you all at once.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach. You look down at where your bodies connect, the sight of him sliding in and out of you enough to have you on the edge of climaxing again already.

He brings his metal hand to knead your breast.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've pictured having you under me like this?” He coos. You gyrate your hips to meet his thrusts, causing his eyes to roll back into his head.

“How many times I've thought about what your little moans would sound like?”

Your only answer is a gutteral moan of his name as you wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into the flesh of his back.

“Your pussy feels even more like heaven than I imagined it would.”

His praises send you over the edge - you're coming for a second time, clenching around him as his thrusts grow messy. He fucks you through your orgasm before he loses control himself, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he spills into you.

With you still panting and limp beneath him, his movements gradually come to a stop but he doesn't pull out - instead he flips you to your side and maneuvers himself into a spooning position behind you.

He peppers soft kisses along the skin of your shoulder, being careful to avoid your stitches, and relaxes beside you.

“Remind me to dislocate my knee more often,” you joke, processing everything that just happened.

He snorts, then tilts your head up to meet his gaze. “Remind me to play truth or dare with you more often.” He captures your lips in his, this kiss slower than any of the ones before.

“I guess it would be weird to make you do my laundry for two weeks now, huh?” He teases, earning a laugh from you.

“You do still owe me a pizza, but I'll be happy to share it with you.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #pvris #oil & water #oil & water by pvris #song fic

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dyed-red · 2 years

Text

Me realizing the flashbacks in the renegade are actually flash forwards in would-be linear time and only flashbacks in terms of how they pertain to apocalypse!Sam's future-past (past future?).

I love time travel.

#the renegade #one of my keywords/aesthetic words for the fic was 'flashbacks'#which i realized could be confusing because it could just as easily mean #flashbacks to a time sam was young/ the age of the version(s) of himself that he meets time travelling #but no they're all flash forwards to the future he hurtles/is hurtled from #anyway can you tell I'm tired today this did not need to be a post but my brain is sleepy

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archiveofvirtue · 18 days

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officer — dean winchester

content: dean winchester x female!oc, heavy smut, oral (male receiving), face riding, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, slight breeding, explicit language

summary: you have been dealing with a series of bizarre murders, stuck as the killer stays unknown to you. When suddenly two FBI Agents enter the New Orleans Police Department where you are leading the case. Dean is very much intrigued by you, due to you being both sharp and attractive. You, however, quickly discover that the brothers aren't who they claim to be. Instead of reporting them, you decide to confront Dean privately..

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Dean Winchester adjusted his FBI badge, his lips curling into a smirk as he and Sam walked into the bustling precinct of the New Orleans Police Department. The case they were working on—a string of bizarre murders linked to a wicked witch—had brought them to the city, and they needed all the help they could get. Dean had done his homework, and he knew exactly who they needed to talk to.

"Officer Y/N Carter," he said under his breath, glancing at his brother. "She's the lead on this case. And from what I've heard, she's sharp as a tack."

Sam raised an eyebrow, catching the glint in Dean's eye. "You mean you've heard she's hot."

Dean grinned. "Can't a guy appreciate a woman's professional skills?"

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't press further as they approached the front desk. A young officer glanced up at them, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the two well-dressed men.

"Agents...?" she prompted, her gaze flicking to their badges.

"Sir Abney," Dean said smoothly, flashing his most charming smile. "And this is Agent Moore. We're with the FBI, here to see Officer Carter about an ongoing investigation."

The officer nodded and picked up the phone. Within moments, you stepped into the room, and Dean had to suppress a whistle. You were stunning—tall, with sharp blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Your dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and you moved with the kind of confidence that Dean couldn't help but admire..

He didn't try to hide his smug smile. Typical. You had dealt with enough of these guys to know the look-half admiration, half underestimation.

"Agents," you greeted them, voice cool and professional. "I hear you're looking into the same case I am."

"That's right," He said, offering his hand. "Agent Abney. This is my partner, Agent Moore."

You shook his hand, grip firm, and Dean couldn't help but notice the slight twitch at the corner of your mouth, as if you were suppressing a smile. "Officer Y/N Carter. I've been working on this case for weeks. It's been... unusual, to say the least."

"That's why we're here," Sam chimed in, his tone more serious. "We've been tracking similar incidents across the state. We think your case might be connected."

You nodded, your expression thoughtful as you led them to your desk. "Let's compare notes, then."

As the three of you discussed the details of the case, Dean found himself increasingly drawn to you. You were smart, no doubt about that, and you didn't shy away from speaking your mind. But there was something else, too—a spark between you and Dean that you couldn't ignore. You caught his eyes on you several times during your conversation, and each time, you looked back at him with a mixture of curiosity and something else... something that made his pulse quicken. He had that charm that could probably get him out of most situations, but you weren't so easily swayed.

After the three of you had gone through all the information, you leaned back in your chair, studying them with those sharp eyes of yours. "Well, it looks like we're dealing with the same thing—a unknown woman with a serious grudge and a knack for creative murder."

"Seems that way," Dean agreed, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "You've been a big help, Officer Carter. I gotta say, it's not every day we come across someone as competent as you in law enforcement."

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips. "Is that your way of complimenting me, Agent Abney?"

Dean grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Just stating the facts, ma'am."

You chuckled softly, but there was an edge of suspicion in your eyes that Dean didn't miss. "Well, I'm happy to help. But don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you two. I've been doing this job long enough to know when something's off."

"Nothing to worry about, Officer," Dean said smoothly. "We're just here to catch this serial killer."

"Uh-huh," you said, not entirely convinced. But before either of them could say more, your phone buzzed on the desk.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," you said, picking it up and turning slightly away from them. The brothers took the opportunity to exchange a glance—Sam's pointed and Dean's slightly smug. But when you hung up, your expression was unreadable.

"I think we're done here," you said, standing. "I'll reach out if I find anything else. And you two—keep me in the loop."

"Will do," Sam said, and Dean gave you a nod before they headed out of the station.

As they left, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that you were more than just a by-the-books cop. And judging by the look you had given him, you weren't quite done with them, either. Something told you that these two had a lot more going on than they let on.

Back at your desk, you watched the two 'FBI agents' walk out, your mind already working on unraveling the mystery that was slumbering over them. There was something about him that didn't add up—besides the fact that he was ridiculously charming. When you'd shaken his hand, there had been a spark, a feeling that you couldn't quite put your finger on. And then there was that name—Abney. You were almost certain you had heard it before, but not in any official capacity.

As soon as they were out of sight, you turned to your computer, pulling up the database. You typed in 'Abney' and 'Moore,' then hit enter. A few seconds later, the screen flashed with the results—nothing. No agents by those names in the FBI database. But then, almost as quickly, a few more results popped up—articles, reports, sightings—all linked to two brothers who had a reputation for impersonating law enforcement.

Winchester. Dean and Sam Winchester.

A slow smile spread across your face. Well, well, well. You had them now. But instead of going straight to your superiors, you decided to play this one a little differently. If Dean wanted to flirt, you'd flirt back—but on your terms.

You quickly reached down into your pocket, pulling out the sleek little paper card that Agent Abney, better known as Dean Winchester, had given you earlier, then picked up your phone. It was time to see just how far Dean was willing to go.

Later that evening, Dean's phone buzzed as he and Sam were going over their next move. He picked it up, frowning when he saw the message. It was from an unknown number, but the address and the time were clear.

"Meet me at this address after dark. We need to talk. – Y/N."

Sam glanced over. "Something up?"

Dean grinned. "Looks like Officer Carter wants a little one-on-one time."

Sam's expression turned wary. "Dean, we should be focusing on the witch, not..."

"Not what? Pursuing all possible leads?" Dean interrupted with a smirk. "Relax, Sammy. I'll handle this."

Sam sighed but didn't argue. "Just be careful."

Dean winked. "Aren't I always?"

Your apartment was on the edge of the city, in a quiet, upscale neighborhood. Dean arrived right on time, his nerves buzzing with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. As he walked up to the door, he wondered what exactly you wanted to talk about—but something told him it wasn't just about the case.

He knocked, and after a few seconds, the door swung open. You stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted black shirt, your hair loose around your shoulders. The look you gave him was one of both suspicion and something else—something that made Dean's heart beat a little faster and that kept you from not calling him out just yet.

"Officer Carter," he said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe. "What can I do for you?"

You raised an eyebrow, stepping aside to let him in. "You can start by dropping the act, 'Agent Abney.'"

Dean's grin faltered slightly as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. "I'm not sure what you mean."

You crossed your arms, your expression unimpressed. "I mean, I did a little digging after you left the station. Turns out, you're not FBI. In fact, you're not even a cop."

Dean's stomach dropped. He was usually better at covering his tracks, but you had seen right through him. "Look, I can explain—"

You held up a hand, cutting him off. "I'm sure you can. But I'm not interested in your excuses. What I'm interested in is why you're really here."

Dean's mind raced, searching for a way to salvage the situation. But before he could come up with anything, you stepped closer, eyes locked on his. "And what I'm really interested in, Dean Winchester, is what you're willing to do to keep this little secret between us."

The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine. There was no anger in your voice, no threat—just a challenge to see if he would accept. And Dean never could resist a challenge.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer, closing the distance between you two.

Your smile was slow, sultry, as you looked up at him. "I think you know, Dean. After all, you've been flirting with me since you walked into that station. So why don't we see if you can back it up?"

Dean's breath hitched. He wasn't often caught off guard, but you had managed it. You were sharp, confident, and undeniably sexy. And the offer you were making? Well, it was one he couldn't refuse.

He reached out, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you closer, his touch sending electric shocks to your skin. "You sure about this?"

You didn't pull away. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, lips curling into a sly smile as your hands rested on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. "I'm sure, Dean. But this isn't just about keeping your little secret-this is about you proving that all that talk isn't just for show."

You could feel his pulse quickening, your words sparking a fire in him that he hadn't felt in a long time.

There was something about you-something in the way you looked at him, the way you challenged him-that made him want to prove himself. And it wasn't just about keeping you quiet anymore; it was about something far more primal.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Dean murmured, his voice husky as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I never make promises I can't keep."

A shiver ran down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as his words washed over you. You hadn't expected to be so affected by him-hadn't expected the way his touch would make your knees go weak.

But you weren't about to let him know just how much power he had over you, not yet.

This was still a game, and you weren't going to lose.

"Then show me," you whispered back, voice full of daring as you leaned into him, lips brushing against the stubble on his jaw. "Show me what you've got, Winchester."

Dean didn't need any more encouragement.

In one swift motion, he closed the remaining distance between you two, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fierce and possessive.

You responded immediately, hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as you pulled him closer, matching his intensity with your own.

The kiss deepened, becoming a battle for dominance as your tongues clashed and your breaths mingled. Dean's hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every line, while your nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on, daring him to take it further.

He backed you up against the wall, the cool plaster pressing against your back as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as you surrendered to the sensations he was awakening in you. It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel, the way he took control.

But you weren't about to let him have it all his way.

With a sudden burst of strength, you pushed him back, flipping your positions so that he was the one against the wall. He looked momentarily surprised, but then his lips curled into a wicked grin, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Feisty," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration and a hint of challenge. "I like that."

"Good," you shot back, voice breathless but steady as you trailed your hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

You kissed him again, hard and demanding, pouring everything you had into it. Dean responded with equal fervor, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together. The world outside melted away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a battle of wills and desire.

You both stumbled towards the couch, lips never parting, your hands never stopping their exploration. Dean's shirt was the first to go, quickly followed by yours, leaving you both bare to the waist, skin burning with the heat of your desire.

You pushed him down onto the couch, straddling his lap as you looked down at him, eyes blazing with a mix of lust and determination. "You're not getting off easy, Dean. If I'm keeping your secret, I want something in return."

Dean's hands gripped your thighs, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a hunger that matched your own. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just say the word."

You leaned down, lips brushing against his as you whispered, "I want all of you, Dean. I want you to make me forget everything except this moment."

And with that, any semblance of restraint you two had left crumbled. Dean's hands moved to unfasten your jeans, his fingers working with practiced ease as he stripped away the barriers between you. Your hands were just as eager, tugging at his belt, then his pants, until you were both bare and aching for each other.

Your eyes admired the men underneath you, his muscular chest heavily raising up and down as he observed you. You were quick to press a few kisses to his stomach before shifting your naked body down so that your lips were on the same level as his hard length.

Desire was burning in your eyes as you peeked up at Dean who was already tensing up, knowing what was bound to happen.

Without another second passing your plump lips wrapped around his tip, cheeks hallowing as you began sucking, earning a deep growl from him.

Slurping sounds began to fill the four walls of your living room as you took him down your throat, the noises that left Dean's lips satisfying you.

"What a cockslut you are," Dean grunted. His dirty words making your core tingle, pressing your thighs together as you started to suck him off at your own pace now, getting a slight taste of his precum in the process.

As he started to buckle his hips up just second later and shove his cock further down your throat you knew that he wasn't going to last any longer.

Dean reached down to take your hair in his grip, tugging on it as he fastened his movements. You were drooling and spitting already when Dean finally released himself into your mouth, feeling the warmth of his cum on your tongue.

You teasingly licked the corner of your lips clean as you stared up at him, and you could tell by the smug look on his face that he wasn't done yet.

Dean harshly pulled your fragile body up to him, his calloused hands pulling at your hips, shifting your frame towards his face with ease. He needed to devour you, and he needed you now.

"Can't wait to taste you, sweetheart." He muttered from inbetween your thighs, his warm breath falling against you.

The softness of your skin on top of him, his rough hands gripping tightly on your hips and rubbing your ass cheeks create a familiar sensation you were aching for all along. Every touch of him felt like being electrocuted.

Moans began to escape your lips as he guided you to move against him, your core rutting into his face, tongue now lapping at your entrance as his nose brushed against your sensitive nub.

Dean definitely took his time with you, devouring your wetness in smooth motions, his warm tongue licking through you, again and again.

You felt the knot in your lower belly growing as Dean moved up to suck at your clit, while two of his fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping in with ease. You felt so full with his fingers inside you. You arched your back at the intense pleasure Dean was giving you, your sweet whimpers filling the room.

Dean immediately knew that you were on the verge of releasing, until it happened right in front of his eyes. Your legs trembled, hands gripping onto strands of his hair, while his rough grip on your hips forced you to still move against him while you rode out your high.

He let his tongue slip through your folds one last time before pulling back, his lips covered by your wetness, making them glisten in the dimly lit room.

"You're addicting." Dean growled, his green eyes staring up at you while you were still catching your breath.

It was just when you were about to move off of him that Dean grabbed your weak-kneed body and threw it back down, back pressed against the soft fabric of the couch. He was still aching for more.

He crawled over you, grabbing your hips and rubbing his tip between your folds before pushing all of him inside, earning something between a gasp and a moan that sounded too good in his ears falling from your lips.

"You are taking me so fucking good," Dean began praising and kissing you, his breathy voice making you clench around his cock.

His hips met yours with every thrust as he found the perfect pace to fuck you right through it. The friction between you electric.

You felt his hands grabbing your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, playing gently with your nipples, adding extra pleasure to your body. It was raw, it was intense, and exactly what you both had wanted.

"Yeah, just like that..." Dean muttered in between his own moans, his fingers finding their way to your clit, moving them in circles, and forcing another orgasms out of you.

As your walls clenched around him you could tell by the way his movements got sloppier that he wasn't too far from releasing himself again. You pulled him down, lips hungrily devouring eachother as you moaned into his mouth, "you fill me up so well."

Dean pounded into you a few more times before he spilled inside you, little droplets of sweat had built up on his forehead as you brushed his hair back with your hands, his hips still moving painfully slow, some of his seeds spilling out of you.

He then collapsed right next to you, his body tightly pressed against yours while your heart was still racing from the intensity of what you two had just shared. Dean's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his own breath coming in ragged gasps.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the silence stretch between you two.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking at him with a satisfied smile. "Well, Dean, I think you've more than earned your secret."

Dean chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver through you. "Glad to hear it. But something tells me this isn't the last time you're gonna hold something over me."

You grinned, leaning in to brush your lips against his. "Maybe not. But you know what? I'm okay with that."

Dean's smile softened as he looked at you, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

"You're something else, Y/N Carter."

"So are you, Dean Winchester," you whispered back, heart swelling with something more than just the heat of the moment. "So are you."

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #spnfandom #oneshot #writers on tumblr #smut #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader

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on-the-clear-blue · 3 days

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Dead Man's Diner drabbles since I need to get back into writing it.

Robber, bursting through the door, gun already pulled out and shouting: EVERYBODY PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP AND OPEN UP YOUR WALLETS

The whole God damn Batfam just looking up from their respective places in the diner:..

Danny, behind the counter, tired as hell from basically taking over feeding them all: Take the fucking shot.

---

Nightwing, laying dramatically over the breakfast bar as Danny walks in, a rose between his teeth: Hi~ I need to place an order

Danny, woke up 15 minutes ago: It is to early for this (it's 7 pm)

Nightwing, watching as Dany just turns around and leaves the diner: Wait no.

---

Bart/Wally/Berry, finally done helping their respective Bat with Gotham Things ™️, stumbling upon the Diner:Sweet, no need to run back home on empty!

Danny, seeing the one that he has seen Clockwork scream about walk into his diner: shit I gotta make a call.

(15 Minutes later)

Bart/Wally/Berry crying into a massive plie of pancakes as Clockwork reads them yo filth.

---

Wes, grumbling as he is kicked out of the diner for the fifth time this week: God damn it Fenton! Stopping hiding your ghostly existence! The people demand the truth!

Bernard, there because Tim recommended it, trying and failing to hit taking him there for a date, head snapping over to Wes like a horror movie: I sense a conspiracy theory.

---

Cass, squating on a bar stool: *pouting face*

Danny, squinting at her: No.

Cass, looking up at him with the most hurt expression: *kicked puppy look*

Danny, feeling terrible:Okay! Okay I will get Cujo to come over! A-and I will throw in Ellie!

Cass, breaking unto a smile: and hot coco?

Danny, fully broken by her: Sure, why the hell not.

---

Tucker and Sam, finally coming into the diner: honestly? Not as bad as I thought it would be.

(A Bat getting chucked through the door, and Rouge following after)

Tucker:Holy...is he okay?

Sam: I take back what I said.

Danny, looking at the property damage:Nope...nope this is normal, Red Hood your tab just doubled.

Jason, fully concussed: Sure thing...babe...

---

Based on an idea I have for later on, Jason and Danny are in the middle stage between friends and Dating and Jason finally gets to meet the other two of the everlasting trio...

Sam, has a baseball bat in hand that is starting to sprout out branches: You hurt Danny and you'll end up dead again, and this time you won't have the hands to dig your way out.

Tucker, with sparks flashing in his eyes and a grin on his face, his PDA blinks with info that no civilian should have: Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, I know all about you, mess things up with Danny and your Pride and Prejudice Self insert fanfiction gets shared with your family, as well as your Wattpad and Tumblr accounts will be sent directly to the Justice Leauge.

Jason, crying a little bit:Danny your friends are terrifying.

Danny, walking out in a pink apron:Oh shit...ugh, Sam! Tucker! I told you dont do that!.

---

Vlad, being a creep to Danny: Oh little badger...truly looking forward to seeing you begging for your life once more

Jason, equidded with Fenton works guns: Anyway I started Blasting.

#batfam #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny phantom #tim drake #dead man's diner #ghost king danny #jason todd #dead on main #danny is a little shit #batman #danny is sick of this shit #i did this is stead of writing

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chaptersleftunwritten · 2 months

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Scared?

Blurb: Eddie is the bane of all your desires but he is also your brother’s best friend… which makes him off-limits. During a visit to your family home Eddie gets a little fed up with you prancing around almost naked and decides that- Enough. Is. Enough.

Pairing: Older brothers best friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: slight angst, 18+, Mean!Eddie, dubcon/noncon, oral (f receiving), choking, unprotected sex (p in v) swearing, rough sex, slight Bully!Eddie, Dom!Eddie.

divider by @cafekitsune

It really wasn’t Eddie’s fault, what was he to do? Sit back and watch you act like a little slut? To be quite frank, he was sick of it. He was fed up with you pining for his attention constantly-

He had known for sometime how you felt about him. The way your skirt got hiked up a few inches as soon as he entered through the door, or how you would ‘accidentally’ drop things right in front of him, flashing your ass as you bent down to retrieve them. Your brother, Sam, was oblivious to it all. You were his innocent little sister and nothing could change his perception of you. But Eddie knew… he knew how much you wanted him.

It was Halloween night and Sam and Eddie had planned to go TP a few houses, maybe launch a few eggs as well whilst they were at it and like always Eddie was the designated driver. Not because Sam was drinking alcohol but because he still hadn’t got his license. The lazy piece of shit, Eddie thought to himself as he rapped a few hard knocks on your family home’s front door, not expecting to see you answer it.

You roll your eyes at the sight of Eddie, full of a stinking attitude, “Sam isn’t here.” Your hip has popped to one side and Eddie’s jaw clenches with withered patience.

“Where is he?” His voice is clipped, like he doesn’t even want to talk to you.

“Dunno.” You shrug, blowing a small bubble with the bubblegum you’re chewing in your mouth.

“When will he be back?” Eddie shoves his hands into his jean pockets, rocking back and forward on his heels slightly.

“Like I said- I. don’t. Know.” A tight lipped smile stretches Eddie’s face in an almost sinister way.

“Can I at least come in and wait? Surely you don’t hate me that much?” He was toying with you, knowing fine well how much you lusted for him. He had read your cute little diary a few weeks back, the one decorated with rhinestones and feathers… although, its appearance on the outside paled in comparison to the fucking filth written on the inside. The pages were filled with your dirty fantasies and the common denominator between them all?

They were all about Eddie.

It was always him lapping between your legs with his soaking wet tongue, stroking your pussy and making you scream. It was his lips pinching the skin of your neck, leaving marks all over your soft flesh. It was Eddie’s fingers that would bruise your ass with his hard spankings…

And as much as he hated to admit it, the thought of it all turned him on. His cock rock hard in his jeans as he flicked through the pages, only to have to shove it back beneath your bed seconds later.

“Ugh, fine.” You step to the side, allowing the long haired man to slither inside. Eddie had a plastic bag with him, filled with the supplies for the night ahead and you snatch it from him to look inside.

“Hey!” His voice is a rough bark as it leaves his lips, “Give it back!” You only manage to steal a glimpse inside before he is tearing it from your hands, ripping the bag in the process. Eddie lets out an agitated groan, “Fucking great, look what you did!” He waves the bag in front of your face, “Do you seriously have to be such a fucking brat all the time? Pathetic!” His words are laced with venom as he spits them at you- and you should be upset by his words and the way he is reacting but really… it turns you on.

“Why do you have a ‘Scream’ mask?” You bat your eyelashes at him, chewing on your bottom lip as you try to rile him up a bit more, “If anything is pathetic, it’s that. You call that a costume?” You spin on your heels, giggling as you do and you head to the living room to grab some things that you were about to take upstairs before he interrupted you.

“It’s a ghostface mask, the movie is called Scream..” he follows flush behind you, “And it’s not pathetic.” He rakes his ring clad fingers through his hair, clearly you have already managed to stress him out and he has only been here five minutes.

“What are you dressing up as?” He collapses down onto the sofa, “Let me guess-“ he taps his finger on his lips pensively, his eyes drinking in your figure, “You’re gonna be a slutty… something. Am I right?” He grins and you frown over at him.

“I’m not dressing up, you asshole.” Your fingers hook around the handles of your laundry basket, ready to lift it up to your bedroom, “Maybe you should go as a massive dick- because that’s what you are, Munson. A big fat fucking dick!” As soon as the words leave your mouth your chest clenches with heavy regret. You weren’t scared before, but with the look on Eddie’s face, you’re terrified now.

Eddie’s usually puppy soft brown eyes cloud with what you can only assume is rage. You have pushed him to the edge- no, you have pushed him right fucking off of it. He’s done playing these games with you. He’ll make you regret ever wanting him in the first place.

“Don’t look so afraid now, Dollface.” His steps toward you are calculated and his heavy boots pound on the carpeted floor with intention, “You want some help with that?” He nods toward the basket in your arms and you shake your head silently. This basket is the only thing separating you from him and you’ll grip onto it for the rest of your life if it meant Eddie couldn’t get any closer to you.

“Give me it.” He demands, his voice is grumbly as he pries the laundry from your shaking fingers, “Your bedroom, right? That’s where you were taking these?” You nod, not saying another word. Eddie’s demeanour seems as cool as ice but you can see the war waging behind his eyes. He is fucking pissed-

“Words.” He bites, “They exist for a reason y’know.”

“Yes. My room.” You hate the way your voice sounds as it leaves your throat. You wish you could take it back, all of it- all of the times you pressed his buttons, teased him, insulted him. But it’s too late now. What’s done is done,

Eddie gestures an arm out toward the staircase, “Ladies first.” He insists with a forced smile and you suddenly feel an urge to apologise to him for the tiny little shorts you are wearing that are barely covering your ass- hell, some people would consider them underwear.

“Eddie-“ you try to reason with him but immediately you swallow the words after seeing his face contort in a way you don’t want to test. So, you take to the stairs. Your steps are slow as you lift one foot after another, not daring to look back at Eddie who is right behind you on the way up.

The top of the staircase approaches like one lead to the noose and you can hear a voice in your head screaming at you to run away, to fight against him, to protest this- but you don’t. You stay quiet, because deep down… you want this. And you have wanted this for years.

Both of you walk through your bedroom door and you stand as far from him as you can as Eddie dumps your laundry basket down onto the floor, leaving it in a far off corner, “Thank you.” You squeak with a sweet smile, but Eddie doesn’t leave. In fact, he closes your bedroom door and clicks the lock shut. Leaving the both of you alone.

“Get on the bed.” His voice is almost unrecognisable and you would have listened to him if you weren’t frozen stiff to the spot where you stood. It’s as if your feet have been bolted to the floor. Your arms that were crossed over your chest come to fall limply at your sides with shock, “What, do you need help with that too?” Eddie clicks his tongue in distaste, marching over to you he grabs your arms so tightly that you know there will be bruises there tomorrow and he throws you onto the bed so hard that you nearly go flying over it.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream, repositioning yourself on the bed to glare at him, but instead of glaring back, he smiles.

“There she is- I wondered where that little smart mouth of yours went.” His large hands find his hair and he pulls it from his shoulders and up into a messy bun, “I was almost starting to feel bad for you- you were so close to avoiding all of this.” You were confused for the most part- what was he going to do to you? Beat you? Eddie would never hurt you, you know that. But why would he lock you away?

“Avoid what? Eddie, I’m sorry-“ Your pleas are cut short by a yelp as Eddie grabs your bare ankles, pulling you savagely to the edge of the bed and restraining your legs in the air.

“No you’re not. You never are.” You had dreamed of this so many times, Eddie Munson in your bedroom, his hands all over your skin… but this seemed to be going in a different direction. One you weren’t sure of.

“Please,” You can feel your eyes becoming a bit teary and Eddie laughs at you manically. Of course you want nothing more than for him to fuck you, but the way he is acting is so out of character… it’s frightening.

“Scared?” He pouts out his bottom lip mockingly, “Aww, the baby is gonna cry- are you crying?” He laughs harder and you decide enough is enough. You attempt to swing your legs off of the bed to stand up but Eddie has other plans. He grabs your frame, taking your wrists into his hands he pins you to the mattress. His waist is slotted between your thighs and the blush that grows on your cheeks is feverish.

“I thought you wanted this…” His appearance softens as his lips come to the shell of your ear, nibbling on the soft flesh, “You’re gonna take my cock and you’re gonna fucking like it.” You can feel him grinning against the nape of your neck before he sucks on the skin, his tongue flicking and soothing the bruises that he’s making. It’s almost like he had read your diary…

Despite the ache pulsing beneath your panties you can’t allow this to happen, Sam would be distraught. It would ruin your siblinghood and Eddie and his friendship. It’ll be a shit show!

“No,” You whisper, fighting the urge to moan as Eddie sucks on a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed.. but he doesn’t stop and you head is becoming hazy with lust, “Eddie, no…” you buck your hips up against his in protest, trying to free yourself from beneath him but he presses his hardened bulge against you tighter, his weight dominating you. You’re trapped.

He grinds his hips into you and you accidentally allow a moan to slip through, it’s faint and dripping with sugar and it sends Eddie’s primal instincts fucking wild. He wants to hear it again but he also needs to find a way to take total control of you.

Eddie starts at your neck, kissing down between the valley of your breasts to your torso he lands at your hips. He momentarily lets go of your wrists so his large thumbs can massage your hip bones and he expects you to try to flee from the bed but you don’t. Or so he thought. You lunge up from the bed and scamper for the door, but unfortunately for you Eddie is fast and before you are able to reach the door his arms are hooked around your waist, carrying you back to the bed. You try screaming, but you know that no one is home… no one’s going to hear you and no one is coming to save you.

This time, Eddie’s impatience is at its peak. He pushes you onto your knees, the bones crashing onto the floor and he forces you face down onto the mattress. Grabbing your arms he secures both of your hands behind your back with a pair of pantyhose from your laundry pile, knotting them tight around your wrists and ignoring your sobs of complaint.

“Stop it!!” You try to stand up but Eddie helps you, only to then shove you back onto your bed. Your sheets were perfectly crease-free this morning when you left your room, now your duvet is a total mess and some of your pillows are on the floor.

“Shut the fuck up!!” Eddie grabs your cheeks, his voice is an animalistic growl as he slams your head back into a pile of pillows. Your bottom lip quiver but your body is betraying your mind- your panties are soaked. Drenched in slick from your core, “I won’t hesitate to gag you, do you understand?” He is between your thighs again and all you can muster is a weak nod, tears still streaking down your face.

“See? You can be a good girl.” A smugness pulls his lips up into a smirk and you readjust yourself to get comfortable, trying to not allow your arms to go to sleep.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to undress himself and his mind is reeling at the sight of you quivering and crying on your bed. He has wanted nothing more than to punish you for your behaviour for months- and now he is… and you can’t stop him. He rips your shorts down your legs and to he is pleasantly surprised to see that he accidentally pulled your panties off with them, “Whoops.” He tosses them behind him and they land somewhere in the room, “I’ll save those for later…”

You feel overly exposed to him and you try to clamp your thighs together to shield yourself but Eddie isn’t having any of it, “Fucking behave!” He warns, his hand finding your throat as he squeezes it at each side- your mind becomes hazy and your vision nearly totally blacks out.

When he lets go you are fighting for a breath, but no I’m a bad way. You’re more panting than gasping and soon those pants are replaced by moans as you suddenly feel Eddie’s face between your legs. His tongue is licking slow tedious strips up your dripping wet slit and his lips latch onto your swollen clit, sucking it relentlessly, “Taste so good,” He groans, his eyes hooded with hunger and desire, “Pussy is mine. Only fucking mine” His voice vibrates against your folds and your head tilts back against the pillows, your back arching off of the mattress as you resist the urge to grind your pussy on his tongue. You’re not meant to be enjoying this, but your tears have stopped and your moans are getting louder and louder...

“All those tears and for what?” Eddie laughs, blowing some cool air onto your flooded core, sending tingles racing up your spine, “I knew you wanted this, you little fucking slut. Maybe you’ll think twice before wearing skimpy clothes around me, eh?” His eyes meet yours and you nearly cum at the sight. His mouth is glistening with your arousal and his eyes are swirling with hunger.

He latches himself back onto you, his tongue flicking furiously at your sensitive bundle of nerves and just as you are about to feel your release he pulls his, causing a penetrative whine to fill the air.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock- and I’m gonna fill your cute little pussy with my cum.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your thighs and you wince at the pain before nodding obediently.

“Words!” He slaps your inner thigh and you yelp.

“Y.. yes! Yes, Eddie!” You’re breathless, swollen, red and craving release and Eddie is drunk on it all. He has total control over you.. he can do as he fucking pleases with you and you can’t do a single thing about it.

His jeans are on the floor in seconds and his hard cock springs from his underwear, causing your eyes to widen. You called him a massive dick early- you just didn’t know that he had one. You couldn’t help the fear that filled your chest at the thought that this actually might hurt.

Jumping from the bed you watch as he walks over to where your laundry basket is, his fist pumping at his shaft as he does. He reached behind the basket, pulling out the Halloween mask from earlier and he slips it on.

“What is it you said about this earlier?” He taps the white plastic of the mask, his deep voice now muffled by the material, “That it was pathetic?” He hums in disappointment and you can tell that beneath that mask he is grinning like a mad man.

He slaps his cock against your core, laughing as you gasp at the sensitivity of it. Using your knees as leverage he holds your thighs wide open, teasing your entrance with the swollen tip of his shaft and when you hear him moan it sends your mind fleeting into the clouds. You must have died and went to heaven because this is what this felt like.

He sinks down, fully submerging every inch of himself deep inside of you and you whimper at the stretch. You fucking whimper and Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head, “Fuck,” he seethes, “You’re so wet, Doll. So wet and tight and warm for me.” He groans and your bottom lip feels like it could be bleeding from how hard you are biting on it. You never thought you would see the day when Eddie Munson fucks you in a horror mask- but anything is possible if you’re bratty enough.

He bottoms out, watching through the dark eyeholes of the mask as he sinks back inside of you. He slow at first, making sure to drink in every pulse, every filthy wet noise- but then he’s speeding up. He doesn’t care that you’re screaming out from the change in rhythm he is starving- he wants to use you like you’re a doll and whatever Eddie wants, Eddie gets.

“Ahh!!” You cry out, your eyes pinching shut as Eddie’s shaft hits your special spot ,”Shit!” Your breathing hitches in your throat and your nails claw at the pantyhose around your wrists, desperate to grip onto something to steady yourself.

Eddie’s moans intensify, the sound of wet skin slapping against one another fills the air as Eddie grabs your throat again, desperately chasing his own release ,”Look at me!” He urges with haste and you do, your eyes reopening to settle on the ghostface cladding his features. You try your best, you really do and Eddie appreciates the way you fight to keep your pretty eyes open and on him as the oxygen is deprived to your brain but as you reach your high and Eddie spills inside of you.. you black out.

Completely unconscious and the only image you remember when you reawaken is that of the ghostface mask from Scream…

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas

#dark!eddie munson #mean!eddie munson #bully!eddie #bully!eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie x reader #hellfire club #chaptersleftunwritten #scared?#mdni #dark!fic

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cosmos-coma · 4 months

Text

Sleep Deprived

A/N: still alive!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1005

Warnings: Unedited, Toot-Rotting fluff :)

Summary: You are far too nice and cannot seem to say no when the team keeps asking you for favors. Now you're ridiculously sleep-deprived and Bucky is determined for you to finally get some rest. (Grumpy Bucky X Sunshine Reader)

Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

_____

Kindness had always been something you prided yourself on; your willingness to help and be patient with others had almost always done you well, but sometimes you were just too nice

First, it was helping Nat go through her old paperwork late one night; she had been in an absolute rush trying to find this old file before the deadline and you didn’t even think of refusing. Then it was Tony, who all but forced you to fill in for one of his lab techs in an overnight experiment. Then Steve wanted help with some confounded modern technology that Sam swore he didn’t have the time to teach him.

On top of it all you had hardly been sleeping the last few nights anyway.

Where you once felt vibrant and bright was now filled with far-distant gazes and tired smiles. Not that you really noticed, right now you were only focused on opening your eyes again after each agonizingly heavy blink.

“Y/N are you sure you want to come?” Steve asked, “You look like you could use a 90-year sleep…” he commented with a quiet huff of laughter.

You barely even registered the joke, instead just smiling sleepy on instinct to his small laugh, “I’m sure, I really do want to go. I promise I’ll be okay once we get going” you assured. The team had been planning this outing for weeks now and you swore you wouldn’t miss it. Not only that but you really didn’t want to miss out on a chance to spend a little more time with Bucky outside of work.

He had snared you at the very first moment and he didn’t even know it. His bright blue eyes had turned away from their conversation, a small frown on his lips from whatever had just been said, and turned to you instead- jolting you with a force you couldn’t have foreseen. Ever since then your heart had been hooked, its strings unwillingly tangled by the smallest interactions.

Not you’d ever admit that to anybody.

“Doll, I really think you should consider staying home and getting some rest…” your heart thrummed as Bucky spoke, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave you a look.

But you only held up your hands, smiling your assurances as you spoke, “I can last a few more hours..! I’ll take a nap as soon as we get back, but I’m sure I’ll last.”

The other members of the team only looked at each other, sharing doubtful glances but nodding nonetheless- if you really wanted to go they weren’t going to try and stop you.

“Alright then,” Nat said with a shrug and stood up, “let’s all head out then.”

Everyone stood up at once and you followed suit, your vision swimming as you stood up far too fast. “Whoa.. um, I mean… Whoo! Yeah, let’s do this…!” You took a staggering step forward. You refused to look like you couldn’t keep up and so you pushed through, giving yourself no time for recovery.

Thankfully there was still one person watching you. Bucky stood up to follow, lingering by your side as the others moved on ahead. He’d tell himself it was purely to watch over you, but he couldn’t deny the lingering urge to be near you. Ever since your first day at the tower when you flashed your annoyingly bright smile at him… he knew he’d never be able to think of anything else.

You stumbled but quickly caught yourself, your breathing ragged and worn as your body begged for rest. “Doll, please-“ but he didn’t have a chance to finish as you stumbled towards the ground yet again.

Strong hands shot out to catch you, your body almost completely limp in his firm grasp. “Oh I…” you started, struggling to keep your consciousness and your breath, “Sorry… I’m okay….”

But Bucky only frowned and shook his head, his hands scooping you up bridal style and he turned to the rest of the team who had stopped to turn back, “You guys go ahead. We’re gonna stay here and get some rest.” He said as he walked back toward the couch, acting as if holding you against his chest was the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to do that, Bucky…” you mumbled against his chest, your body more than happy to sink into him.

“Shh, yes I do…” he spoke quietly, the whole room settling into a calm quiet as the rest of the team headed out the door, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Doll… I know you want to be nice, but you’re only gonna wind up hurt.” He chided as he took a seat on the couch and laid back against the armrest.

Thanks to your lack of sleep you had no shame in rolling on top of him, your cheek squishing against his chest as you let out a tired huff. “I’m not.. good at saying no…” you murmured with eyes closed, sleep coming on fast in your comfortable state.

The grumpy ex-soldier grinned despite himself, your sweet smooshed face stirring something in his old heart. He pulled a blanket off the top of the couch, draping it over the two of you as you seemed to be in the last thralls of consciousness.

“Bucky…?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Will you be here when I wake up…? Please..?” Your soft voice asked, your fingers curling around his shirt in an effort to make him stay- but he didn’t need any swaying.

A grin, as bright as your own, broke through his expression, and he nodded quietly, “I’ll be right here, Doll. I promise you….”

---

And he kept his promise.

Hours later the rest of the team had finally returned, initially boisterous and full of laughter, they were quickly quieted down by the sight before them.

There on the couch you and Bucky continued to lay, his strong arms wrapped firmly around your frame with his sleeping face tucked into the top of your head.

_____________________________

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #James Bucky Barnes imagine #mcu imagine

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malleleothreesome · 10 months

Text

Blindfolded Malleus

💚 summary: You edge Malleus while he's blindfolded ༶༶༶ 💚 warnings: gender neutral reader, you go to TOWN on those horns of his, brief mention of Malleus wanting to breed you, blowjob, penis in [gender neutral hole] sex, creampie ༶༶༶ 💚 word count: 6.6k words ༶༶༶ 💚 inspired by: @creepysun-cpsunnhild's ask thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

Malleus sits patiently on his bed, hands clasped on his lap, buzzing with nervous excitement as he waits for you to join him. He is already stripped down to only his boxers, eager to begin the night's festivities.

"Are you nervous?" you ask him as you rummage around in your backpack before finally pulling out a silky black blindfold purchased from the secret backroom of Sam's shop.

Malleus blinks, mouth parting slightly in the way he does when surprised, "A little? This is rather... novel for me." His lips fall into a pout. "Being unable to see your face is strange. I won't get to enjoy your expression as you pleasure me..."

You zip up your backpack and saunter over to his bed where Malleus waits, boxers tented around the evidence that he is looking forward to this, despite his apprehensions. You flash him a mischievous smile as you crawl over to him on the bed, settling in a straddle across his thighs. "That will just force you to be more sensitive to my touch," you coo as you cup his soft, milky cheek in your hand, admiring the complete beauty of his face for a final moment before you blindfold him. As he returns your loving gaze, his slitted pupils start to widen from desire and you watch in awe as his verdant irises are completely swallowed by inky pools of hunger. “I promise you won't even miss my face in the heat of the moment,” you try to reassure him.

He scoffs before murmuring in a low, smoky voice, "You know me far better than that, child of man." And yet, despite his objections, he obediently tilts his chin down, lowering his lashes as he allows you to place the black silk over his face. Malleus inhales sharply as the light suddenly dims to complete darkness. He stills like a startled creature of the forest as his sight leaves him, his muscles tense and his eyelids twitch under the silk as he comes to terms with his new vulnerability. You stop straddling him, denying him the comforting warmth of your thighs against his as you crouch on your knees beside him. He growls as you refuse to indulge his lust, remaining perfectly still as he struggles to find his bearings. You want him to simmer with arousal before you ease his longing—a little frustration will make his eventual orgasm that much more satisfying.

His innate magical ability attempts to compensate for the obscuration of his eyes by granting him heightened senses that would guide him in a perilous situation. He finds himself hyper aware of the beating of your heart and the slow rhythmic cadence of your breathing. The tension between your still bodies grows palpable. Your heartbeats thrum synchronically with the silent yearning of two lovers desperate to press skin against skin. Malleus is so ethereally beautiful, your heart can’t help but leap every time you look at him. The black silk shrouding his vision only serves to emphasize the handsome cut of his jaw and his sharp, seductive lips, parted in breathless anticipation. The glossy fabric paints a dark tapestry against the snowy hues of his skin. A lock of his viridian hair slips along his forehead in a way that accentuates the graceful curve of his brow. Every fiber of his being drips with all the charms of an otherworldly prince, an untouchable enigma that transcends mortal understanding. Yet he sits there, completely bared to you, stripped of his power, a masterpiece defaced by a veil of cloth; a prize awaiting the taking.

Despite his lack of sight, he can feel your gaze on him like a physical caress, causing goosebumps to sprout across his alabaster skin and his ears and cheeks to bloom a flustered rose-red. He knows you are simply teasing him, but the sensation of being denied his favorite view of his beloved is utterly infuriating. Yet, something about being without your gaze stirs the desire within him. When your lovemaking has reached its peak in the past, the sight of your flushed cheeks and blissed out expression has made his blood run hot and has left him in the throes of the most pleasurable high. Not being able to gaze upon you will allow him to focus his whole being upon the ecstasy he feels every time he is brought to climax. This denial will amplify the sensations he will feel in the midst of passion and he finds himself anxiously anticipating how overwhelming those emotions might be. His cock grows harder and twitches excitedly at the thought and he bites his lip to contain the groans of arousal rising up in the back of his throat. Your proximity, despite him being unable to see your form, is positively maddening. Now that sight is taken away, the darkness is acting like an aphrodisiac. He wants nothing more than to lose himself to desire, touch, scent, and sound—to bring both of your hearts racing and be subsumed in an orgasmic trance. And so, the anticipation of the evening ahead courses through Malleus' body in electric tremors, setting his soul on fire. For someone with the lifespan of a fae, a moment is but a speck of sand on a shore, yet every minute you make him wait seems to drag into torturous eternity. He wants—no, he craves to take you and bask in the throes of passionate euphoria... Yet, he sits there, at the mercy of you and the unfolding events.

His growing sexual frustration sends a surge of wicked mischief through your blood as you crouch on the plush duvet alongside him. Malleus feels the bed shift and your body moving ever closer, then the caress of your hot breath tickling against his neck, near his sensitive ears, just a whisper away. He shudders deliciously as the phantom sensation of your moist, parted lips nears his bare shoulder, sending a chill through his entire body that culminates in a tingling tightness that pulses through his dick, which has reached full mast and throbs painfully in his boxers. Just as he is beginning to move his mouth to admonish you for such cruel teasing, his body suddenly jerks in surprise as he is overcome by the wet and gentle pressure of your mouth suckling ever so gently against his sensitive nape, right in that one spot, the one you know makes his knees turn to jelly. Malleus can't help the startled gasp that falls from his mouth as his body surrenders entirely, arching slightly at the pleasurable sensation, head lulling back just a little. He shivers as your palms ghost across his bare chest in a featherlight graze, sighing as his muscles are soothed by the balmy smoothness of your hands. You seem intent on teasing his neck—tugging, suckling, kissing, licking—and the teasing wet heat and gentle suction against his throat drives him to near delirium. The muscles of his neck tense as he gulps down heavy breaths, and you revel in the sound of him fighting desperately to contain his lust, your mouth quirking up into a smirk against his throat. His head leans back further to grant you more access to his soft flesh, and he resists the urge to stroke himself, biting his lower lip as your kisses start to descend along his pectorals, your tongue teasing at a hardened nipple before continuing to worship him down his abdominal muscles to the dip of his hips and eventually stopping just short of where he really wants it. Malleus is panting, almost as if in time with his throbbing member as it demands attention, yet your fingers remain above the waistband, tempting him.

"Keep going," he commands quietly, craving more than your hesitant brushes, his heart quickening at the sound of your own racing pulse. You have found a delicious torment in delaying him, and his inability to see your next move has caused his whole body to come alive. Malleus bites his lower lip harder, nearly breaking skin to maintain his self control as your fingertips barely push at the elastic band of his underwear, your nails only teasing the thin trail of hair below his navel. The tiniest contact is overwhelming on his skin, leaving a blazing trail in the wake of the featherlight touch, and a trembling warmth deep within him as his desire crescendos. Every part of him is suddenly alert, drinking up the ambiance, the muffled silence only adding an ethereal atmosphere of mystique to his hazy world of arousal and delight. "My love, please give me more," he begs. The strained edge in his voice stirs the rising excitement within you and your core aches at his ardent need. A little hitch in your breath catches his attention. Without the ability to watch your expressions, his sharp ears have begun to strain to hear every indication of arousal from you.

A bratty whine escapes Malleus' pouting lips as you completely withdraw your hands, body heat disappearing as you leave him exposed. The void of your warmth leaves him cold, an abyss to match his own darkness, yet he is lost for words as your mouth finds his erect cock through the fabric of his boxers, swallowing his bulge, the friction of your dampened tongue against him shooting straight to his balls. Your saliva bleeds through the cloth in a thick stain as you use your mouth to slowly torture him, knowing this is driving him insane. A jumble of pants and unintelligible phrases fall from the normally reserved Malleus' mouth and his hands fist themselves in the bedsheets, threatening to rip them in his pent-up ecstasy, knuckles stark white in strain as he groans. Your relentless hot and wet pressure on his erection is turning him into a salacious mess, but it's not nearly enough—he's desperate to feel your skin and a feral growl rattles around in his throat. His instinctive need to seize control of the situation becomes clouded in the heady fog of the erotic pleasure that your touches instill within him, a thrall he's unfamiliar with but too far gone to resist. When he thinks he can't stand the sweetly agonizing tease any longer, your lips pull away, leaving him wanting for your moist, breathy heat to return to him. Malleus whines piteously, squirming in place in silent desperation, fists tightly balled.

Your heart soars when you hear him making these vulnerable little noises of absolute submission to his craving for your body—as much as you know his primal urges are telling him to toss you onto his lap and take you, his dedication to your sadistic game prevents his true lusts from prevailing. He wants to ravage you, to gorge himself on your flesh as you scream his name into his pillows, to bite down on the crook of your neck when he's plunging deep within your hot, aching depth. Instead, he endures his cock's ceaseless torment.

As you contemplate your next course of action, your eyes settle on the enigmatic vestigial holdover from his ancestors—his horns. Growing directly from his skull and twisting in two thick curves adorned with glowing flecks of opulent teal, they frame his beautiful visage with an unmistakable air of eerie mystique. Intrigued by the sharp, slender peaks, you straddle Malleus' lap once again, his aching need nudging up against your clothed sex and making him groan from the limited pleasure he finally receives. He never eluded to any sensuality about the pointed projections adoring his head, but your curious lust can't help but wonder if they're erogenous. It certainly wouldn't surprise you if the fearsome protrusions were a weakness for your beautiful and powerful lover. If they could invoke in him a tantalizing rush of decadent sensation, they would surely aid you in his titillation. His previous words of caution ring in your mind—"You're welcome to touch them… though I can't guarantee what would happen to you if you did."—yet your perversion yearns to test out your theory.

You slowly lean your bodyweight towards his head until he feels you looming over him, your body's warmth fanning over his face and giving a comforting presence to his empty, disoriented world. The hint of a smirk curls at the corner of his lips as he begins to tilt his face, wrongfully expecting a kiss. Malleus had suspected your lusts would soon get the better of you and would ultimately yield him the rapture he seeks. You don't even notice the way his mouth opens slightly, wet, plush lips eagerly awaiting yours. The air between you two is electric with a smoldering, simmering need, threatening to spark into something raging. However, you swerve his inviting kiss, instead placing both your hands firmly against each horn, beginning a gentle massage on the cool bone. You can’t help but grin in prideful victory when a yelp falls from Malleus' lips and he bucks upwards, his hips suddenly snapping with wild impulse in a carnal attempt to sheathe his engorged cock within the beckoning warmth of your tight hole. Malleus' shocked gasp shifts into a guttural, feral sound. His blood is filled with electricity and lust, the lewd sounds emanating from deep within him like a forbidden spell of obscene delight.

The rumble of his inhuman grumble rolls through his entire chest, and the vibration of the low, loud noise goes straight to your throbbing sex. His reaction to you is deliciously intense, and you begin to twist and rub your thumb and index finger around the ridges of the horns, tracing the shapes and sending tiny shivers down Malleus' spine. You watch him, holding your breath in captivated awe as his upper lip lifts into a snarl and his bottom lip falls, allowing another dirty, draconic growl to spill out. The blackness of his vision leaves his mind no choice but to sink deeper into carnal euphoria, his mouth hanging agape and eyes rolling behind his blindfold, the pale skin of his cheeks becoming flushed as he drowns in the overwhelming sensations that consume him entirely. You run your fingernail up and down the sides of his horns simultaneously with a tantalizing tickle, and Malleus' head jerks in your grasp, neck muscles tense with shock from how amazingly sensitive this area of him is. With a naughty grin you plant a messy, wet kiss on one horn, then drag your teeth along the slick surface while your fingers begin a slow, erotic massage where the base of his horn meets the tender skin of his scalp. A downright depraved string of nonsensical, fragmented curses of ecstasy tumble from Malleus' throat. As his primal urge to breed overrides any common sense, the harsh sting of claws dig into the delicate skin of your forearms.

Your caress on his horns is like having the tips of every nerve of his being stimulated at once. His hips start thrusting almost automatically, as though his brain no longer commands him with any sort of reason. His desires take full control, acting on instinct to rut against anything and everything, and a hot ache ripples through his nether regions. The undergarment that traps him from absolute nirvana becomes uncomfortably tight, as his manhood pushes the limits of what the cotton material can bear. A damp and translucent stain of precum has bled through onto the fabric. His mind is swirling with a heady cocktail of lust, love, and urgency—the absence of sight heightening every aspect, every molecule of physical joy, creating a searing, constant arousal deep within him. At last, you have coaxed your regal Prince to reach a whole new state of passion.

You can feel yourself becoming more aroused with each erotic sound you draw from Malleus' throat, as your love for him is mixed with your innate masochism to torture and tease, causing a molten heat to blossom within you. Unable to deny him any longer, you let your lips fall to his mouth and Malleus eagerly reciprocates without hesitation, the heat between the two of you almost unbearable. Teeth clash as he hungrily devours your lips and his arms fly to pull you close so he may sink himself into your flesh and keep you for an eternity, one arm slipping to your lower back and pressing you towards him, his other hand weaving itself through your soft locks. This is what Malleus longed for: the warmth, the wetness, and the sinful slide of your tongue against his. His heart is set ablaze as you grip onto his face, cradling the beloved contours in an almost desperate plea to be as near him as possible, wanting to hold your lover to your body until he melts within you. His deep, sonorous moans of lecherous longing resonate throughout your whole body, echoing in the cavern of your very soul until it makes your heart weep with an overwhelming love and passion. You realize now, more than ever, how dear this fae Prince is to you, how absolutely crucial he has become for your every living moment. As Malleus hungrily chases every ounce of physical sensation he can achieve through the one person that matters the most to him, he feels the exact same love and desperation well in him and pour into his kiss, transmitting his emotions back to you. The blindfold begins to dampen from his overflowing tears as the magnitude of your passion for him stirs a surge of affection and desire that nearly rips his beating heart out of his chest. He clutches you ever closer as a small sob rises up, overcome by his love for the beguiling little mortal whose unconditional acceptance and magical charms have entranced him since day one. You drink up his ardent devotion like a life-sustaining elixir.

Eventually, you break the kiss with a moan and slide off his body, and he mourns your warmth against him, a lonely tear absorbing into the silk. Malleus cannot contain a whimper, as his blood pulses so fiercely, a carnal and primal drive floods his being. It is beyond lust, beyond physical desire—you have reignited the very core of who he is as an eternal, draconic prince and have reminded him of the fire that beats within his breast. His body aches and throbs in equal amounts sexual and emotional passion, his need to release so intense that his breaths come in short, quick pants. His muscles spasm uncontrollably from the sensations running rampant in every extremity, and he sobs with pent-up desire, clawing at the duvet as though it would relieve the ceaseless, tortuous pressure that plagues him. His heart yearns, yet his libido aches, the girth of his dick straining against his waistband like a caged animal desperate to break free from its bindings and let the true beast emerge.

A relieved sigh escapes him when, a moment later, your cool, soft hands dip below the elastic of his boxers and gently slide them down and off. His erect cock slaps against his stomach, weeping pearls of precum and glistening from the prolonged sexual torture of the evening, standing at full attention. Its girthy length twitches with impatience. One teasing fingertip just barely grazes its tip, gathering the beads of lust and dragging them along his length. A strained yelp forces its way out of Malleus' parched and trembling lips, and his whole body tenses, toes curling. The sheets are being pulled in the violent vice grip of his fists, the sheer force of his magical grip threatening to rip them in half. You begin to languidly trace along his shaft at a tantalizingly slow and soft pace, driving him out of his mind. It's barely enough contact to get any satisfaction, yet far more than enough to make him jolt at the blissful sparks that you ignite within him. You ghost your breath across the length, blowing air on his heated flesh as a paltry reward to Malleus' plight. He cries your name in a pitchy, agonized tone as your hands pull away and he tries not to sob with frustration at the lack of touch. Before he can complain, a new, torturous sensation wracks his frame: the phantasmagoric feeling of soft, pillowy lips dragging against the tip of his shaft, eliciting a filthy whine and a throaty gasp. He feels more wet heat around his sensitive glans as your tongue bathes the area with hot saliva, savoring the briny taste of his essence, then leaving him abruptly. You're far too much of a tease, giving him just a sample before pulling away. His balls feel painfully swollen as he reaches his limit and his member seizes with another sharp throb of arousal.

And then, with a wet squelch, the heat of your mouth descends onto the entirety of his rock-hard erection, taking him all in to the hilt. Your cheeks hallow to create suction as your tongue swirls around his engorged tip and your throat relaxes as his length is buried down your throat, holding your breath and stifling your gag reflex for a brief moment before bobbing your head up and down, fucking his hard dick with your mouth and salivating profusely over his thick length. The sweetly sinful sensation of his throbbing erection buried deep down your esophagus causes his mind to shut off, his brain short-circuiting from the intensity of pleasure. Your talented tongue swirls and twirls around the mushroom tip while your hands massage up and down along his shaft, working his flesh in synchronous harmony, threatening to break him down into a quivering mess under the expertise of your skilled mouth. It's absolutely obscene, how willingly your jaw hangs wide for him, how you guzzle up every inch of his thick cock as though he's the best meal of your life.

Now that you have him back where you want him, you take your time torturing him by switching your rhythm every time his groans begin to sound too desperate, denying him the relief his poor aching cock so desperately craves. You gently guide his shaft upright with a tug of your hand, angling his thick cock directly into your mouth and ensuring you completely envelop his tip in your throat. Every time you hollow your cheeks and move his throbbing erection in and out of your mouth at a vigorous pace, Malleus is unable to hold his voice back. He tosses his head back, letting your tongue lavish the underside of his cock. The velvety heat of your tongue sweeps from the base all the way to his glans, lapping across his slit before wrapping your lips around his thick girth again. Your tongue meticulously teases and suckles on his sweet spots, knowing that because of his loss of vision he is acutely aware of every change in pressure, every shift in the path of your tongue, and every powerful stroke of your hand. You have successfully reduced the unshakeable Prince of Thorns into a mess of low moans and ragged, staccato breaths. Your name comes out in pleading pants, like he's calling to you to take his seed and give him the relief he desires so desperately. Your sucking and swirling heat pulls Malleus' balls up closer, tight and ready, his member starting to spasm as his end rushes ever nearer.

"Dearest..." Malleus murmurs as softly as possible, shuddering as pleasure lances through him like lightning, barely audible above the squelches and wet smacks, his hips bucking frantically now, "I beg of you... Please, do not be cruel. I cannot—please." You know how sensitive he is to touch, his every nerve is so over stimulated, and his blindness is making everything hit a whole new level.

"That's enough—hnnnng. This is far too much for me to handle... You're truly evil for using my body like this—oh, do not stop—" A litany of indecencies flow forth in an increasingly erratic rhythm to accompany the melodious cadence of his dulcet moans. Every time you push his length down your throat, he thinks you've given up playing around and finally decided to let him spill his hot load, only for you to relent at the last second and reduce your fervency. He curses your name, promising retaliation later in the form of the most passionate fucking of your entire life. The cruel torture begins anew with a playful kiss on his tip or a lewd slurp at the base of his cock as your hands fondle and caress him. It is almost inhuman the level of control his child of man has to be able to push him close to the edge and retreat with surgical precision, again and again, leaving him in complete anguish.

The hard tip of his cock slams the back of your throat, threatening to suffocate your breath and sending a deluge of saliva trickling down his swollen balls and slickening your lips. He cannot suppress the rough and rapid snapping of his hips against you, plunging his penis to the very end, every lunge making you gag. When you swallow and clench your throat around his length, Malleus' breaths dissolve into frantic wheezes, his chest heaving, unable to even finish his sentence before his lungs are sucked empty in ecstasy. Your hands cup the heavy, weighted balls beneath, fingers and nails digging in slightly before gripping onto his ass as you swallow around his entire girth, pumping his dick in rhythm with his thrusts as if to milk him and show no mercy. Your muffled squeals of encouragement spur Malleus on, the sounds you're making giving him permission to use your mouth like his own personal fuck-toy, his own filthy fantasy. His eyes squeeze shut behind the blindfold as the red, pulsing void suddenly fills with the vivid memory of the look on your face the last time he pounded your face so mercilessly, that wonderful face all covered in his seed, cheeks dripping with his creamy splatter. He moans brokenly as his fantasies meld with reality in the blinding darkness. The sheer act of being able to fully appreciate and wallow in the sense of absolute decadent delight his beloved grants him, as well as your own enthusiasm for him—all these sensations surge forth in a mighty torrent. Malleus knows you're preparing to build him up to a devastating peak of passion.

With a firm yet gentle grip, you dig the tips of your fingers into the ample flesh of your lover's thighs, feeling their toned rippling as you keep him in place. Your fingernails sink a little, creating faint, red trails in your wake, marking Malleus' flawless skin as evidence of your claim over his body. Without warning, his hard length slips out of your wet lips with an obscene pop, and the fae Prince whimpers once more from the cold drafts of the dorm room settling over his sopping, saliva-coated member.

Before he has any time to register the shock of the loss, the bedsheets shift again under your movements as you swiftly remove your underwear before returning to position on your knees outside of his open legs. He holds his breath, eagerly anticipating the impending penetration of his lover's deepest parts and the messy release of the tight knot of sexual desire within the pit of his stomach. A baritone, satisfied groan bursts from the depths of Malleus' lungs as your warmth encases his erection, sheathing his dick in an endless flow of slippery heat and the most luxurious pressure. It is one of his favorite pleasures to hold you close after having penetrated your deepest core and simply stay there to savor the ecstatic sensations. Nothing can replicate the pure feeling of euphoric fulfillment and unadulterated bliss when your lower half is connected as closely as it possibly can with his—both of your intimate zones smoldering in the ecstasy of total conjoining, bodies becoming one and unified, your souls entwined in a kiss. His toes curl and his muscles shudder, but before he can adjust, you start moving, using your hips to ride his lap.

Your thighs settle snugly around Malleus' hips, your weight rocking forward to penetrate your loins deeper on his member and envelop every inch of him until his hard cock reaches the deepest regions of your core. Malleus can barely comprehend what's going on, his mind drowning in an ocean of the purest pleasure, his hands searching desperately for yours as you place his palms on either side of your waist for a good grip. His lover's palms, made small by the bulk of his own, have only moments ago been manipulating his sensitive erection and granting him such euphoria. To touch the very appendages that have stimulated him, to hold you steady, to feel the love that flows through the both of you—the thrill of the experience sets Malleus' mind into overdrive, the preciousness of his time together with you compounding with his heightened physical sensations in a stunning synthesis. A symphony of sexy, wet noises of colliding bodies, creaking mattress, and throaty gasps and moans echo throughout his lonely, shadowy abyss, and Malleus feels as though his senses are being pleasurably overwhelmed. Malleus shoves his cock ever deeper within, nudging against the slick flesh with feverish abandon. He becomes desperate for an even tighter hold, urging your body to submit to him and drown in bliss. As his dick pumps into your sweet, greedy, and dripping hole with zealous thrusts, your combined rhythm becomes lost to the utter delirium of rapture as the fae's raw instincts to rut you senseless take over. The Prince of Darkness doesn't hold anything back— he thrusts up into your body with full and furious strokes, growls turning animalistic, cock pounding with merciless thrusts, and balls slapping against the juncture of your thighs.

You can barely handle the sheer thickness of Malleus' dick inside of you, its girth is massive. It stretches your walls and massages every part of you, the large ridge along his cock's underside scraping against your insides with every relentless slam. The slightest movement sends fireworks shooting through you and drives you insane, the heated passion causing a powerful buildup of pleasure already. Your gasps rise in volume, turning into shrieks as you give him your body entirely. One of his hands trails up from your waist, the rough and calloused fingertips ghost across your collarbone and up the curve of your neck. His head is tossed back from the carnal fucking but those elegant, sharp fingernails linger over your pulse, feeling the way blood beats under your skin and listening for the hitch of breath every time the angle of his cock rubs up against something magical inside of you.

Malleus is constantly shifting his position, driving his huge dick into the different angles with practiced efficiency as he listens intently for where to thrust harder, to where your breathing is quickest, and where he gets the loudest moans. The noise echoes back to him like the raunchiest opera. It leaves you shaking on him as he explores you with his cock, the sheer intensity of his frenzied ministrations threatening to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. Every single slam of his dick draws you to the edge of the pleasure-bound chasm, as waves of satisfaction ripple throughout every fiber of your being.

His large, sturdy hands have never left your form and cling possessively. When he lets go, it's to scrape his claws down the tops of your shoulders before seizing you tightly once more. With his thighs tense, his strong muscles drive up into you at a merciless speed, over and over. A throttled roar is building in the pit of Malleus' chest. At the top of your lungs, you scream out his name. There is no room for your thoughts, only the constant stream of the lust-drenched fog and the instinctive urge to reach your peak. Malleus' talons scratch down your back before grabbing onto the tops of your asscheeks and forcing your lower bodies impossibly closer together. Malleus bites your neck while simultaneously drilling his cock as deep as he can possibly go before pausing there, grinding into you and groaning. Your bodies move together in tandem, a wet dance that staves off your looming orgasms for a few more thrusts and moans.

Through the blinding white ecstasy, you can vaguely hear the haughty prince remarking how perfectly he fits and feels inside you. Between your moans and the slapping sound, his breathy laugh cuts through the room and brushes hot against the crook of your neck, teasing, "Your insides... tighten when I praise you..." Your walls immediately squeeze him on reflex at those words. This discovery of another weakness brings him closer, more ravenous, a little bit more wild with the need to take and claim. His face buries into your skin and his tongue flicks out against your neck, drinking up the salt of your sweat as he nips, bites, and sucks his mark there. Malleus wants to fill your greedy hole with his seed, mark his territory, make it absolutely clear that you are his forever by stuffing you full until his cum trickles from the very corners of you and soaks into the silken sheets of his bed. He pants and growls lewdly, plundering into you like a heathen and abandoning any sense of shame as he fully lets go of all composure. The guttural moans and bestial noises escaping his throat reverberate like music in your ears. They signal that the gorgeous prince is drawing dangerously near his edge. The primal urges you have summoned from him command his every thought and his body reacts instantaneously to all the stimulation you've given him thus far. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans now turning into shameless screaming. You match the intensity with which Malleus throws his entire body into the movements of fucking your hole. Malleus doesn't allow your body a single moment's rest as he thoroughly ruins you—each carnal rut and frenetic pound of his manhood into your core sets fire to your whole being, reducing your soul to ash in the passion's wake. His engorged, reddened tip abuses your g-spot to the point that your walls can't even tighten around him anymore due to being so utterly overwhelmed by his dick.

Malleus' heart jackhammers against his ribs and a sound that can only be described as a primal, draconic cry roars out. Thick, creamy spurts of his warm seed paint your inner walls white as his balls pulse and churn, filling you up so generously. The depth of your love and adoration has finally ripped the fae's last threads of restraint to shreds, unleashing his true self—wild, uncontrollable, feral—and the transcendent bliss leaves him howling your name in a voice more akin to a monster than a beautiful Prince. You throw your head back, feeling every muscle of your inner body clench in delicious contractions as you, too, reach the precipice, gushing all over him. All you can manage is to sink onto his thick, throbbing cock and just quake with the intense force of your orgasmic bliss, your legs spasming around him as you milk his twitching shaft.

Every wave of your orgasm sends him into his next. Your loud wails of pure pleasure are music to his ears. He growls and thrusts against you, eager to ensure you have been completely and utterly defiled with his load. The exhilaration and anticipation that was building all night finally peaks, and the intensity is just right to leave the both of you in an tangled afterglow of sweaty, quivering limbs. All he can see are swirling spots of magical color swimming in front of the blinding black of his blindfold. Every sense becomes a blurry haze. When he finds enough control over his quivering frame, Malleus holds you up and close to him, refusing to slip out from your body, letting you come to rest against his strong, tender embrace and gently stroking your hair as you nestle your forehead in the crook of his neck, nestled so comfortably between his head and shoulder. Malleus begins peppering your face and the exposed parts of your shoulder with butterfly kisses, his ragged breaths tickling your skin.

"My love..." the Prince purrs as you languidly snuggle into him, "You will never know what you've just done to me. I have felt so utterly and undeniably wanted, needed, desired." His strong arms embrace you, so gentle and loving and soft, it makes your heart beat a little bit faster and fills you up with an immense, powerful feeling. "You have made my existence feel absolutely perfect and wonderful, more so than I deserve." His voice grows thick and warm, full of tender affection as he adds, "Please, cherish me forever. I will pledge myself to you for as long as I live."

He pulls the blindfold over his head, his eyelids fluttering open to meet your soft gaze and reveal his magnificent, emerald hues and smoldering, lust-drunk slitted pupils. You fall in love with him all over again, smiling brightly as you are greeted by your beloved Prince's elation at seeing your beautiful face once more. Malleus lifts his palm and tucks a lock of your hair behind the lobe of your ear, leaving his knuckles there for a few extra moments as he enjoys the flush and shimmer on your features, admiring the love of his life with all the admiration in the world.

Malleus' eyes spark with renewed mischief and he chuckles mischievously, the deep, smooth sound rolling with velvet menace. "No mortal has ever had this sort of control over me before. The experience was rather... illicit, and strangely beguiling. A little unexpected, however, when you nearly choked me with my own horns." A single sharp claw tips your chin upwards. "How lucky, indeed, am I to be fortunate enough to have you, the first person I ever held my heart out to, be so wicked to me. You were quite merciless tonight." His lascivious grin twists devilishly, and you find yourself enthralled with a certain mix of terror and rapture, unable to keep a devilish smirk of your own from twitching your own lips.

You had known that taking him away from the world for a brief moment of darkness would make his whole body light up like a star and let him truly lose himself to you, but you never would have predicted how viscerally it would affect him. Even so, it pleases you to have fulfilled your fae Prince's perverse needs. You kiss the tip of his nose and he smiles his sharp smile. "Now that you've revealed such a sinful aspect of yourself to me, you'll be the one beneath my power next time we indulge."

The playful menace in his smile doesn't quite mask the serious note in his voice. Malleus is absolutely determined to reciprocate the things he enjoyed receiving in equal measure. It was almost like his own hidden, dangerous desires had awoken when you dragged him down the path of depravity, and a new wave of perversion courses through him at the thought of transforming you into his own plaything. Your throat goes dry, knowing his strength and his kinky side may finally have been unshackled from its cage, and the fae might devour you without the restraint and kindness of his moralities to hold him back. His handsome features betray nothing of his sadistic plans—all you can see are his glorious, flashing eyes glimmering with mischief, and the dangerous upturn of his mouth. There's no telling how much Malleus Draconia has planned for you, and for a brief moment, you wonder if perhaps you'd created a bit of a monster with tonight's exploration.

Let me know if you all enjoyed this! Some Fun Erica Lore™ is that I have total aphantasia—I can't visualize (images or sounds) at all. So, I think because of that, I tend to be very descriptive with my words, since I can't visualize the scene in my head. Also, because I don't have visual memory, I do not remember memories or daydreams in a visual way, instead, I remember them by the feeling I felt in that moment (or the feeling I would feel if a situation was happening to me). Because I feel things so deeply, I like to convey the power of emotions in my writing. I hope I was able to elicit a strong emotional response from you. As always, thank you for reading. Every day, I continue to be awestruck by the outpouring of love and support I've received from you all. Thank you for welcoming my writing into this lovely community. Until next time, 💚 Erica Malleleothreesome

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swarvey · 4 months

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how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader | part one

-> summary: in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

pt. 2

a/n: starting with half the boys, i'll be working on the rest of them + bachelorettes after ! i got a bit carried away with elliott's ... but can you blame me?

alex

carries the pendant around in his pocket for a week, hoping the right words will magically find him if he does

(they don't)

definitely the type to lock himself in the bathroom and stare at himself through the mirror while practicing what to say to you

decides to propose during a quiet walk in the evening so he has your full attention and all the time in the world to profess his love to you

alex swears his heart is about to fly out of his chest as the two of you walk hand in hand around pelican town, the sun long gone below the horizon. the street lamps guide the two of you, fireflies intermittently emitting gentle flashes of light.

he doesn't even realize you're expecting a response from him until you wave a hand in front of his face, moving in front of him so he's forced to look into your amused gaze.

"alex," you laugh, and his breath hitches, "are you listening? you look like you've been zoning out."

he musters an empty laugh back at you, internally panicking as he desperately tries to recall what you said. "what? me? no, i was just, uh . . ." think, alex, think! you can't mess up now! "i was thinking about gridball." he wants to smack himself.

"really?" you reply, raising your brows. "you're thinking about gridball, now? while i was talking to you about our anniversary coming up?"

shit.

his face pales, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the bridge near the museum. he groans, dropping your hand to run it through his hair — surely he can fix this, right?

"okay, cut the act," you say, worry beginning to show in your features. "is everything alright? what's bugging you?"

"nothing, really! it's just that, uh . . ." alex inhales a quick breath to prepare himself before grabbing both your hands in his. "you know i love you, right?"

"yes . . .," you trail off. you look at him with concerned eyes, beginning to look uneasy. "now i'm really worried—"

"no, no! just hear me out, alright?" you nod. "you know, before you moved here, my view on life was pretty boring," he admits. "all i really cared about was gridball and my grandparents. and dusty, of course, and i guess sam and haley, too—" he shakes his head, blush beginning to cover his cheeks. "whatever, you get what i'm trying to say, right?"

"i'm not entirely sure if i follow," you reply, smiling at how flustered he's gotten. "what are you getting at, alex?"

he sighs. "listen, you moving here was the best thing that ever happened to me. you've shown me there's tons more to life than whatever i was doing before, like giving random gifts to everyone in town just to make them happy, or being a badass and fighting off monsters!" you laugh, and he grins. "anyways, now that i've had a taste of what being with you is like, i don't think i'm willing to share."

your jaw drops as he reaches into his pocket and gets on one knee, opening his palm to reveal a mermaid's pendant.

"will you marry me, y/n? so i can spend the rest of my life learning more awesome stuff from you?"

he nearly collapses in relief when you nod, whooping in joy before engulfing you in a tight hug. after a few moments, he can't help but kiss you strongly, a hand cradling the back of your head with the other on the small of your back. you smile into the kiss, pulling away only to look into his teary, overjoyed eyes.

"aren't you forgetting something?" you tease, glancing down at the pendant that's still clutched in his hand.

"oh, right!" you bend your head forward as he places it around your neck, beaming at the sight.

you hold the jewel in your hand, adrenaline pumping through your blood. "looks like we'll have to plan a wedding," you say, happily pecking alex's cheek.

"yes, this is so great!" he exclaims as he jumps in excitement, unable to control himself. "alright, first, we gotta figure out where we're going to cater food from, but i know grams will want to bake our cake," he rambles, grabbing your hand as he practically starts to drag you home. "oooh, and we should totally ask sam and his band to play something for us! he knows all the songs we like, anyway. i think all the guys will help me get all dressed up, but i bet haley and the rest of the girls would go crazy over helping you pick out what to wear, they probably know better anyway—"

"alex," you interrupt, laughing at his antics, "relax. we'll figure all this out tomorrow. let's just go home." he nods.

"you're right, honey," he agrees, swinging your intertwined hands playfully. "i'm going to need all the rest i can get if i'm gonna spend all of tomorrow bragging about my engagement."

shane

leaves the pendant in his nightstand drawer and looks at it every night before he goes to sleep for nearly a month

he truly never thought he would get married — who would want to marry him, the town drunk?

regardless, the past year with you has proven otherwise, and he knows now there's no one else he wants by his side

he decides to do it quite impulsively one day, literally grabbing it from his drawer and walking to your farm

(marnie nearly faints in excitement when she sees him walk out with the mermaid's pendant in hand, while jas cheers him on)

shane starts to get nervous when he doesn't see you anywhere on the farm, making sure to double-check all the chicken coops and barns before heading toward your house. your pet runs up to him, sniffing the hand wrapped around the pendant curiously.

"got any advice?" he asks jokingly, though he doesn't receive an answer — just a tilted head and wide eyes. "guess this one's on me," he sighs, looking at the jewelry nervously.

"shane? is that you?"

shane nearly drops it as he quickly shoves his hands into his pockets, watching as you step out from your greenhouse. of course, he thinks, the one place i didn't check.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, smiling at his sudden appearance. you're wearing dirt-covered gloves and your hair is touseled and frizzy; shane thinks you're glowing. "dinner's not til later, isn't it? or else i'll need a little time to get ready."

"no, i thought i would stop by a little early," he says. "i had something i wanted to talk to you about, actually." you nod, taking off your gloves and putting them in your bag.

"of course, what's up?" you ask, looking at him with those damn eyes that he could never resist.

"we should get married," he states bluntly, excitement sending chills down his body.

he wants to kick himself as you stare at him, blinking twice before saying, "y-yeah, i guess we should."

he nods, swallowing. "it makes sense, y'know?" he reasons, suddenly avoiding your eyes. "we've been with each other for a while now, and things have been going pretty good." he pauses. "you've gotten me through a lot, you know that? i mean, before you got here, i didn't think anyone in this town gave a damn about me — but you obviously do, for whatever reason, so i'll spend the rest of my life trying my best to be the guy you see me as."

he takes the mermaid's pendant out from his pocket, sheepishly looking at you as he holds it. his eyes are watering with emotion, and by the looks of it, so are yours.

"so, what do you say, honey?" he asks softly. "will you marry me?"

"yes," you reply, smiling as he puts the necklace on you. he laughs in disbelief when he sees you wearing it, still in shock that this is his reality. you roll your eyes, pulling him in for a deep kiss. you cry out in surprise as he hugs you strongly and even lifts you off the ground slightly, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them.

"i can hardly believe this is real," he sighs, pulling you into his side. "guess i did one thing right in my lifetime."

you slap his arm, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. "you definitely didn't plan this out, did you?"

"huh? what makes you think that?"

"you couldn't even wait until dinner to ask?" you joke. "i guess it wasn't really a question, either—" you laugh as he pokes your side to cut you off.

"don't forget, you're the one who said yes," he retorts, smiling nonetheless. "you're officially stuck with me."

elliott

oh, he's had the mermaid's pendant for months. pretty much since you two got together

he tried to keep it a secret, he really did, but by the time he actually decides to propose, the rest of the bachelors and bachelorettes know

still, he wants the proposal to be for you and you only, so he plans on asking you during an evening picnic dinner on the beach

that doesn't stop him from asking his friends for some help, though

"is this really necessary?" sebastian questions, placing a candle into the sand and creating a pathway to the picnic blanket near the water.

"i think it's romantic," leah sighs, handing him another candle from the box in her arms. "he's been planning and buying all this stuff for weeks now. plus, candlelight always makes things more magical."

"i'm sure the moon will be bright enough tonight to add some 'magic.'"

"the light itself is not our concern, my friend," elliott says, wrapping an arm around seb — who scowls at the contact, but decides to let him get away with it just this once — and waving his arm to show off their setup. "i need this beach to represent a scene of pure love and endearment tonight, for my beloved deserves no less than a proposal for the century!"

"right," seb monotones. "well, the candles are all set up, so i'm heading to the shade."

"you want the speakers over here, el?" sam calls out, holding up one of his wireless speakers at the entrance of the beach.

"i've got one over here, too!" abigail yells from behind the cabin.

"perfect!" elliott replies, grinning as the setting he's been picturing finally comes together. he waves goodbye as everyone begins to head home, turning to the only part of his plan left untouched — the picnic blanket. i suppose the rest is up to me.

"are you ready, my dear?"

"elliott, i've been ready for the past twenty minutes," you say, playfully smacking the hands covering your eyes. "can i look now?" he laughs before finally lowering his arms, watching lovingly as your eyes widen at the setting in front of you.

"shall we?" he asks, holding his arm out. you gladly hold on to him as the two of you make your way down the beach, in awe at the candles lighting your way.

"i must be dreaming," you say, shaking your head. "how did you—? wait, where's the music coming from?" you realize soft acoustic music is playing throughout the beach, feeling as if you're in a movie scene.

"ah, that? i asked sam and abigail if i could borrow their speakers," elliott explains proudly. "i also recruited leah and sebastian to help me create this enchanting path."

you laugh. "let me guess, you asked alex and haley to distract me and bring me to the library?" your jaw dropped. "no, and you asked maru and penny to get lunch with me? all so i wouldn't come to find you?"

"i had a feeling my darling would venture to my whereabouts, so i requested the help of our colleagues to keep you away. though i'm sure it was difficult for you, i wanted this to be a surprise," he admits, smiling at you. "do you . . . like it?" he asks quietly, a bit scared he had done too much.

"elliott, this is more than anything i could have asked for," you say, warmth coating your words. "what's the occasion?"

he sighs in relief before replying, "have i ever needed a measly excuse to spoil you, dear?"

"i suppose not," you agree amusedly, recalling all the times you've returned home to a bouquet sitting on your porch.

finally, the two of you reach the end of the path, sitting together on the blanket. a big basket covered with a cloth sits at the center of it, as well as two plates, utensils, and your favorite food.

you shake your head. "this is ridiculous," you state, looking at elliott with big eyes. "how long have you been planning this?"

he hums in thought as he plates your food, pushing it towards you. "that, my dear, is none of your concern," he says, "though, i will say it took quite a bit of strategy. and money," he jokingly adds.

after the two of you eat, elliott hands the basket over to you, trying his very best to contain himself.

"i thought it'd be fitting to get you some gifts," he states, as you begin to uncover its contents one by one.

inside, you find a framed version of your favorite photo with him, a hand-painted mug, a poem, and—

you gasp. "are those rubies?" you ask, a couple red stones glittering at the top of the basket. you pick them up, realizing they're matching keychains.

"courtesy of emily," elliott explains. he hesitates, breathing out lightly before continuing. "rubies signify love and passion, you know, as well as good luck and prosperity."

you laugh lightly, holding up the keychains to the moonlight to see them shine. "perfect, should work wonders for us and the farm—"

"they also symbolize weddings."

you blink, gently setting down the gems as you look at him. he holds out the mermaid's pendant he has been patiently keeping for you, eyes already shining with tears as you gasp.

"y/n, the time we have spent together has been by far the best of my entire life," he starts, "and when i look to the future, i'm afraid i cannot picture one without you walking by my side. you are, and always will be, the love of my life, my shining light, my fairy book tale. you, my love, are my happy ending.

"so, will you do me the honors and marry me?"

you jump into his arms as soon as he finishes speaking, both of you laughing as he happily holds you.

"yes, elliott, of course!" you exclaim. he grins as he holds your face in his hands, covering your face in kisses before finally landing on your lips. your hands run through his hair before you fall backward, elliott landing on top of you with his hand cradling your head. you peck his nose, and he laughs once more before helping you sit up.

"here, let us celebrate with some wine!" he decides, grabbing two bottles he had left in the corner. "shane and harvey said these were the best the winery had to offer."

"you really got the whole town in on this, huh?" you tease, barely containing yourself as he helps you put on the jewelry.

he rubs the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "well, it began with leah, and i thought it wouldn't hurt to tell harvey, but then of course i had to tell—" he stops himself. "secrecy has never been one of my strong suits, has it, love?"

you shake your head, leaning into his arm as you listen to the sound of the music mixing with the crashing of the waves.

"don't worry," you reassure, and he looks down at you with nothing but love in his gaze. "you have plenty of other traits to make up for it."

808 notes · View notes

marvelfanfn2187a113 · 6 months

Text

Useless

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Demon Dean & little sister!reader

Requested by @abiball027

Synopsis: Dean does some things as a demon that everyone regrets.

Warnings: demon blood addiction, demon Dean gets the reader addicted to demon blood, kidnapping, this one’s kinda dark guys, angst with a happy ending.

Your body was on autopilot as it led you through the bunker. You didn’t even realize you were headed to Dean’s room until you stopped in front of his door, unable to go further. Your hand twitched towards the knob, but you stopped yourself from reaching out to grab it.

There was nothing in there you wanted to see. You didn’t want to look at Dean’s body again; you couldn’t.

You staggered in surprise when the door flung open. Dean’s frame filled the doorway, and it was all you could do to stay upright.

“De…what…” you caught sight of Crowley in the room behind him, and you directed your next words at the king of hell. “You—did you bring him back?”

You didn’t want to wait for an answer; in fact, you were a split second away from throwing yourself at your big brother when Crowley stepped between you.

“I wouldn’t do that; he’s still adjusting.”

“Adjusting? Crowley, what did you do?” You demanded, before shaking your head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta tell Sam.” You turned to go, but Dean’s hand shot out at an inhuman speed, and he held your arm in a vice grip.

“What—Dean?” You looked up in surprise at your big brother.

“No Sam,” he demanded, but his eyes seemed unfocused. That is, until he blinked and they flashed black. You wrestled your arm from him and stepped back, your hand going to the demon knife at your belt. You pulled it out, directing it at Crowley.

“You…” your voice shook with anger, and you nearly choked on it. “You let one of your filthy demons possess my brother?”

“Not exactly.” Crowley shrugged.

“What—“

Dean interrupted you.

“It’s all me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not possible.” You shook your head. “It can’t be.”

“Oh it’s Dean alright,” Crowley said. “Because of the Mark of Cain, he can’t be killed. I merely brought his soul out of its little…hibernation. Or, chrysalis, I suppose is a better analogy. And now he’s evolved into…well, this.”

Dean and Crowley’s matching grins turned your stomach.

“W-we…” you swallowed, trying to let your mind catch up with your racing heart. “We can fix this. We know how-how to cure demons. I can get Sam and we—“

“No!” Dean’s sudden tone change made you flinch. “I don’t want to be cured, and you’re not going to get Sam.”

“I-I don’t understand.” you shivered.

“No. You wouldn’t.” Dean chuckled darkly. “You wouldn’t understand power.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You’ve always been the weak one, so you wouldn’t understand what having power feels like.” Dean’s eyes flashed black again, and you flinched. “Well I’ve got power now, and I like how it feels.”

“Stop it.” You shook your head, turning to Crowley. “Dean wouldn’t say this stuff. What did you do to him?” You yelped in surprise when Dean’s hands once again grabbed your arms.

“It’s all me, N/N. The new me. The better me.”

You tried to break free from Dean’s grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Crowley stepped forwards, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“We should get out of here while Moose is still gone.”

“You’re right.” Dean didn’t release his grip on your arm. “But I’m bringing her with.”

“What?” You and Crowley asked in horrified unison.

“Dean, you agreed to leave it all behind. You said you didn’t want—“

“I said I didn’t want Sam stopping me,” Dean interrupted Crowley. “She’s not strong enough to do anything to me.” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Dean continued. “But, with a little help, she could be useful.”

“Help?” Crowley frowned. “How could she do anything for us?”

“She can…” Dean’s eyes flashed black—it seemed to be his new favorite trick. “If I give her a taste of power.” Dean shoved you towards Crowley. “Hold her still.”

Crowley took hold of your arms without question, although he was clearly hesitant.

Dean took the demon knife out of your hands easily, and he sliced a small cut on the heel of his hand.

“What are you—“

Dean took advantage of your mouth being open by pressing the heel of his hand to your lips. You froze up as Dean’s other hand came up to plug your nose.

He’d completely cut off your air, and you struggled as the metallic taste of Dean’s blood invaded your mouth. He and Crowley easily held you still, and Dean kept his hand there for several seconds before moving it so that his palm was covering your mouth. No more blood was going in, but you still couldn’t breathe.

“Swallow and I’ll let you go,” Dean said. You continued to struggle, but it was useless. “C’mon little sister, just swallow.”

You struggled until you felt dizzy and your lungs were screaming. You swallowed almost without meaning to, the bitter taste of Dean’s blood invading your senses. Dean and Crowley released you simultaneously.

You backed away from both men, stumbling against the wall as you gasped for breath. You didn’t even know what to say; you were too confused, too hurt, too scared.

“What was that?” Crowley asked, sounding as confused as you felt.

“Like I told you,” Dean growled. “With a little power, this little rugrat might be useful. And since I’m the one controlling the power…” Dean waved a hand over his cut wrist, and it healed itself. “I’m the one who she has to listen to. The perfect little sidekick.”

You didn’t need to hear anything more. You turned on your heel and tried to run, but Dean grabbed onto your arms and flung you against the wall. The back of your head hit the wall, and suddenly you couldn’t see or feel anything.

…

You awoke to the gentle purr of the Impala, and for a long moment you couldn’t tell what was going on. Were you on a hunt? You couldn’t remember. Then you tried to move your hands to rub your face, and they stopped, impeded by something metal. Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was your hands cuffed to the back of Dean’s seat. Crowley was in the passenger seat, and the memories came back almost instantly.

“She’s awake,” Crowley said.

“Ahh, good morning sweetheart,” Dean grinned, a sickeningly sinister smirk that looked nothing like your big brother.

“Where are we? Where are we going?” You looked out the windows, but the road sides were no help to your poor sense of direction.

Dean just chuckled.

“Wherever we want.”

…

The three of you drove all day, and once the sun lowered behind the horizon line, Dean pulled into a seedy motel. He opened his door and came around to your door. He didn’t unlock your cuffs; instead, he pulled a flask from his back pocket and unscrewed it, bringing it up to your mouth. You knew it was his blood before the liquid touched your lips, but again your struggles were futile as Dean held his hands over your mouth and nose until you swallowed.

“See, that’s not so bad,” Dean cooed even as you shuddered. “A few more of these and you’ll be so hooked, you’ll be begging me for another hit.”

Crowley watched with an unreadable expression as Dean freed your wrists from the handcuffs and led you inside the motel. Within minutes, Dean had you cuffed to the air conditioner in his room, and he and Crowley were off to party at the nearest bar. You tried to wiggle around to reach into your pocket, only to discover that Dean must’ve taken your phone and lock picking kit while you were knocked out. With nothing to focus on, you became acutely aware of the hunger pangs that were becoming more frequent: you hadn’t eaten since you’d been in the bunker. But soon, a different hunger took hold of you. It was unfamiliar, and it hurt worse than normal hunger. Fear began to nag at you, but you shook it off. You couldn’t be hooked on demon blood already, could you?

You couldn’t be sure, and that only flamed your panic. This whole situation was crazy, and you didn’t know how to adjust; Dean, a demon; you, kidnapped; and demon blood being fed to you no matter how much you tried to resist. Your mind played around with the idea that it wasn’t really Dean—that Crowley had lied and it really was some random demon inside your brother’s corpse—but you knew that Crowley, as devious as he was, had no reason to lie.

And that meant that it really was your big brother, trying to turn you into a demon blood addict just so that he could use you.

“We’re back!” Dean crowed triumphantly, snapping you out of your thoughts as he entered the motel with Crowley at his heels. A fast food bag was tossed into your lap, and Dean reached over your head and released you from the handcuffs. You chowed down on the burger without hesitation—you were too hungry to be ornery—noting in the back of your mind that Dean had remembered exactly how you liked your food; maybe he was still in there somewhere.

To your dismay, the food could only satisfy so much, and that unfamiliar pain lingered. You felt your eyes unintentionally slipping towards Dean’s flask, and unfortunately Dean noticed too. A wide grin split his face as he looked from you to his flask.

“Knew it wouldn’t take much to have you hooked,” he said, and when you started to shake your head in a panic his gaze softened—if only slightly. “Hey now,” he soothed, coming to sit by you and pulling out his flask. “It hurts, right?” At your hesitant nod, he continued. “I know it does. Now let your big brother take the pain away, ok?”

His tone was so familiar, and yet so unfamiliar at the same time. Soothing words that Dean might say to you before stitching up a wound—but that was not what was happening now. Dean’s voice was gentle, but his eyes held a dead indifference that had never been directed at you, not from Dean. Everything felt so wrong, and you were so overwhelmed and hurting that you could do nothing but cry softly as Dean lifted the flask to your lips and forced the liquid down your throat. He didn’t even bother to plug your nose, as you were too tired to fight him—you swallowed with no protest other than the tears tracking down your cheeks.

White hot shame filled you along with the demon blood. You had more fight in you than this, you knew you did. But this was different.

You’d never expected to be fighting against your brother, and that thought alone drained all of the fight in you.

“There it is.” Dean’s smirk turned your stomach, and you were already starting to regret eating that burger. “See? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed onto your shoulder.

“C’mon, I’m gonna cuff you near the couch so you can get some sleep.”

Dean cuffed your hands to the nightstand next to the couch. You could lay on the couch with your arms stretched over your head; it was uncomfortable, but better than the floor you supposed.

To your surprise, you fell asleep quickly, drained from the long day on edge. But it was a fitful sleep, and some time in the middle of the night you awoke panting. It took you a moment to realize what was different; you weren’t handcuffed anymore. You looked down in your lap to see the cuffs in three pieces. You stared down at your hands; had you done that?

A groan from one of the beds had you flinching as Dean sat up. His eyes found you in the dark, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the black abyss that used to be your brothers bright green eyes. Then he blinked, and the green was there, but it wasn’t the same.

“Go back to sleep,” he demanded, and you were laying back down when he suddenly got up. You felt your body shaking as Dean approached you; you’d never been more scared of anyone than you were of Dean right now.

“Seems the demon blood is working,” Dean chuckled as he held up the broken cuffs. His eyes flickered to you. “How does power feel, little sister?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question. You didn’t feel powerful. Sure, you could break steel without even meaning to, but you had no power over your situation; if anything you felt more helpless than you ever had.

Unless…

Remembering Sam’s powers when he’d been drinking demon blood, you pushed your hand out in front of you. Before you even made contact with Dean, he staggered back and fell—you had telekinesis!

You jumped up from the couch and ran for the door. It had the door-block on it, but it tore loose when you yanked the door open. You took one stride out into the night air before strong arms wrapped around your midsection and flung you backwards, back into the motel room.

“Your powerful, little sister,” Dean chuckled darkly. “But not more powerful than me.”

You backed away, not even looking where you were going as you tried to escape your approaching brother. Your foot caught on the desk, and you went down hard, but you kept backing away, using your hands to scoot back. It didn’t do much, and when Dean reached you he gripped your shoulder and dragged you to your feet. He shoved you back down onto the couch, and turned and walked out the door without another word. You sat there in confusion until Dean returned—presumably from the Impala—with thick chains in his hands.

“This should hold you for a bit longer.” He smirked. “At least until I can get you so addicted to blood that you won’t leave.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you insisted.

Dean just laughed.

…

The pain was all consuming; you could think of nothing else. You were hungry, too, and thirsty, and your back ached from sleeping on the couch; but none of that mattered. All you could think about was blood.

You found yourself suddenly much more sympathetic towards Sam; sure, you’d felt bad for him—you knew his addiction had hurt like crazy—but you’d never felt it before. It was a new kind of pain in a world where you thought you’d experienced every kind.

What made it hurt worse was knowing that it was your big brother inflicting this pain, and not to get you un-hooked on demon blood; he was doing it to teach you some kind of sick lesson. Or maybe he thought it would get you even more addicted; if so, it was working.

After your little stunt trying to run away, Dean had chained you up to the wall, gagged you, and left with Crowley. That was yesterday; he hadn’t returned, even when night came and went. He knew the withdrawal pains would hit you like a truck; you figured that was the point.

What if it wasn’t a lesson? What if he was just sick of dragging you around, and he left you there? His words wouldn’t stop echoing in your head…

“You’ve always been the weak one…”

You’d always felt that way, but to hear Dean—even a black-eyed Dean—say it out loud hurt more than you wanted to admit.

And the fact that, even with demon blood in you, you couldn’t break out of the chains Dean put on you seemed to aid his description of you.

Were you really so pathetic that you were only useful when pumped full of demon blood?

“Hiya sweetheart, did you miss me?”

You’d been so lost that you didn’t even notice Dean enter the hotel room until he was right in front of you, unlocking your cuffs and pulling the gag down. When he was done, you felt your hands grip onto his arm of their own accord, and your eyes found his pleadingly. You wanted to pretend you didn’t know what you were pleading for—food, maybe? Water? But you and Dean knew all too well.

“You did miss me,” Dean said with a grin. “Is this what you want?” Dean held up a fast food bag. You hadn’t eaten in a day, you should have wanted it.

But you didn’t even look at it.

“No?” Dean put the bag down and picked up a water bottle. “How about this? Not this either?”

“Dean…” you mumbled, your eyes slipping down to your hands. “It…it hurts, Dean.”

“Aww.” Dean chuckled. You knew he was patronizing you, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to make the pain go away.

“What about this?” Your eyes lifted to see Dean pulling out his flask. You saw a hand reach out for it, surprised when you realized it was your own. Dean wouldn’t let you touch it, though. He pulled it out of reach, shaking his head. “Don’t touch, sweetheart. That’s my job.”

You didn’t move as Dean opened the flask and lifted it to your face. You wished you could pretend that he was forcing you to drink the blood, but it wasn’t true anymore. He really had gotten you hooked.

The only question now was what would Sammy do when he found you?

…

The next few weeks fell into a regime. You tagged along while Dean and Crowley dragged you to town after town, bar after bar, motel after motel. After the first week, Dean stopped using the chains; he didn’t need them anymore. The resourceful, smart Winchester in the back of your mind knew that he was training you like a dog—when you listened, he let you drink from his flask; when you disobeyed, he let you suffer—but there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t resist the demon blood anymore, it hurt too much. And a part of you—the part desperate to please your big brother—didn’t want to. Dean thought you were useless without powers, and you didn’t have it in you to disagree anymore. The only reason Dean even wanted you around was that you had powers. Without that…

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Crowley approached you and Dean.

“We need to talk,” he said to Dean.

“So talk,” Dean said with a shrug. “She won’t bother us.” Dean waved offhandedly at you.

That’s all you were now; the sidekick, the tool, meant to stand aside and keep quiet.

“I don’t think you want her to hear this.” When Dean didn’t respond, Crowley sighed and continued. “Moose called.”

You stiffened, and Dean noticed.

“Go take a walk, N/N,” Dean said. You didn’t argue—you’d given up on that—but you did hesitate. Dean blinked, his eyes flashing black, and you flinched. “I said take a walk.”

You left without another word, but your brain was going a million miles a minute.

Sam called? Was he coming? Would he fix Dean…and you?

…

You returned to Dean when he waved you over.

Like an obedient little puppy, you thought disgustedly. You thought you’d given up on your pride and your dignity weeks ago, but the thought of Sam returning to see you like this brought it all rushing back.

“Here.” Dean pulled out his flask when you approached him. You stiffened and you had to force your head to turn away from your big brother. Dean scoffed, “One mention of Sammy and now you’re all high and mighty?” Dean’s fingers clenched around your jaw, and he turned your chin to face him. “Let me make this clear; drink now, or I won’t let you for the next two days.”

Your breath caught in your throat; the most he’d ever cut you off was for about a day, and that had been one of the most painful days of your life. You couldn’t do it, you knew you couldn’t.

Dean let go of your face, and you tilted your head up slightly, your lips parting just a little. It was all the assent that Dean needed.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed, uncapping his flask.

What had you gotten yourself into?

…

You’d been getting better and better with your powers. Dean had had you practicing, mostly on random demons that Crowley let get too close to him.

The better you got, the more you began to think that Dean was right; you had been useless before, never able to help your brothers. Now you could help—now you had power.

Every time you got better with your powers, Dean would flash you a wide grin—it was cocky, not at all like his old proud smile—but it was good to see nonetheless. It felt good to do something for your big brother. It felt like you were finally repaying him for everything he had done for you.

“Pick a side!”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Crowley’s outburst. You had followed Dean into Crowley’s demon meeting after Dean murdered one of Crowley’s clients. After weeks around Crowley, you tended to tune him out, but now he seemed heated, and Dean was tense beside you.

“Or what?” Dean asked before shoving a Crowley across the floor. Crowley got up in a huff, glancing around as if to see if his demons had noticed—of course they had.

“This—“ Crowley gestured between himself and Dean “—is over. You’re too unpredictable.”

“Ok,” Dean said, a nonchalant smile gracing his lips. “How’s this for unpredictable?” And suddenly he was looking at you, eyes boring into you as if you could read his mind. To your surprise, you could; or at least, you knew what he wanted. He wanted to piss Crowley off—he wanted you to exorcise all of Crowley’s goons. You’d only ever exorcised one at a time, which was a far cry from the five that surrounded you now.

Still, your big brother wanted something from you, and you were going to do your best.

You closed your eyes in concentration, holding your hand out as almost an anchor. You could feel the power pulsing through your blood, as if the demon blood was intertwining with your own. You heard screams of pain from the demons, but you blocked them out, hyper-focused. When the screaming stopped, you opened your eyes to see five empty vessels strewn across the floor. Your attention turned to Crowley, your hand still outstretched.

He staggered back a half step, but Dean reached out and pushed your hand down.

“Hey, easy—not him sweetheart.”

Your attention turned to Dean at his words, and there it was; that proud grin. Your lips twitched up even as you thought that you missed the way the old Dean would let you know he was proud of you. The way that he’d smile a real smile, and ruffle your hair, and say, “Good job, kid.”

Instead, this Dean smirked and pulled his flask out of his back pocket, holding it for you to drink from even as he turned his attention back to Crowley.

“You want unpredictable? You want this to be over? Good; I don’t need you, I never did.” Dean capped his flask and turned to go.

He didn’t even look back to see if you would follow; he knew you would.

…

You sat on a stool beside a piano in an empty bar, watching Dean play around with the keys. It had been hours since he’d let you have a drink, but every time you tapped his arm he just snapped at you to leave him be. You were doing just that—sitting quietly and watching your big brother—when the door to the bar opened.

“Sam!” You jumped up before you’d even fully registered that it was Sam who’d walked in the door. When you started towards him, Dean’s voice stopped you.

“No.”

It was just the one word, but it was enough. Your body acted almost if its own accord, stopping the instant the word was out of Dean’s mouth. You’d gotten used to obeying him without question lately, and it was a habit you weren’t so sure you could break.

“Commere,” Dean said, and again you listened, going to stand beside him as he stood from the piano bench.

Your eyes drifted to Sam, who was looking from Dean to you in utter confusion.

“Good.” Dean’s voice brought your attention back to him, and you saw him reaching into his back pocket for his flask. Your stomach dropped to your toes; that was why he wouldn’t let you drink earlier. He suspected that Sam was coming, and he wanted you to be desperate enough to drink in front of him. Your heart caught in your throat as you stared up at Dean, as if he could somehow undo what he’d already done. He just smirked at you as he uncapped the flask and held it up.

Your body was screaming for it—you’d been achy, pain stiffening your muscles for at least an hour—you needed it. Keeping your eyes downcast so that you didn’t have to see Sam’s face, you took a half step closer to Dean and let him tilt the contents of the flask into your mouth.

“What are you doing?” Sam lurched forward, recognizing the substance immediately. “Dean, you can’t! Y/N, stop!”

“Aww, it’s not her fault, Sammy,” Dean chuckled as he pulled the flask away and capped it. “She was never gonna be strong enough to stop me.”

You ducked your head in shame even as your nerves were screaming for more blood. You couldn’t bear to even look in Sam’s direction.

“Dean, what did you do?” Sam demanded, panic lacing his tone.

“Made her useful!” Dean insisted, still grinning like this was all a great joke. “You should see her now, Sammy. She exorcised five demons all at once today, I bet she’s pretty tired out.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched up in a small smile at Dean’s words. He was bragging on you to Sam—it was nice to hear.

“Useful?” Sam’s scoff brought the shame back. “Dean, she’s not an object! She’s not some kind of tool for you to use! She’s our sister!”

“So what? She was useless before, a weak and pathetic tag-along. I finally brought some purpose to her life.”

You bit down hard on your lip to keep it from quivering. You kept your gaze down so you didn’t have to see either of your brothers.

“Dean, stop it!” Sam yelled.

“Fine.” Dean shrugged. “You want me to stop? Try and bring her back. She won’t go, I’ve got her hooked more than you ever were.”

Dean stepped back, watching from the other side of the piano while Sam approached you. You kept your eyes on your shoes even as you heard Sam approaching.

“Honey, hey, look at me.” Sam came to a stop mere inches from you. Your breaths picked up as tears blurred your vision, but you forced yourself to blink them back and look up at your brother. The hate that you were expecting wasn’t there, neither was the disgust or the anger. Instead, Sam’s eyes were gentle; understanding. “I can help you. You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“But…” Dean’s words swam around in your head, and they were all you could think of. “But without this I’m useless. I wanna be useful. I’m useful, Sammy, I’m powerful!”

Sam’s gaze never wavered.

“But are you happy?”

You stopped. You’d been so worried about being useful to Dean, that you hadn’t even thought about…

Your head shook slowly from side to side, the tears returning. Sam’s gaze softened even more.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Sam,” you whimpered, finally letting the tears fall. “I-I didn’t mean to—but I can’t st-stop.” You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed, and you flinched when you felt Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Shh, hey…” Sam pulled you into his embrace, and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head as he rubbed your back. “Honey it’s ok. We can fix this, I just gotta take you home.”

“She’s not gonna leave me, Sammy,” Dean mocked. “I’ve got her hooked.”

“You’re coming too,” Sam directed at him. “I didn’t just come for her. We can cure demons, Dean.”

“Did you even stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn’t have left? And I certainly wouldn’t have gotten our little sister addicted to demon blood just to cut off her supply.” Dean jeered, laughing. “I mean, what kind of brother would do that?”

“Enough, Dean! I’m bringing you back whether you want to come or not.” Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of demon cuffs.

“Do you really think those will hold me?” Dean scoffed.

“We’re about to find out,” Sam sighed.

A hiss filled the air, followed by smoke that separated both of your brothers from your sight.

“Sam! Dean!” Your cries were followed by a fit of coughing when you breathed in the gas. A hand on your shoulder turned your attention to Dean, who was trying to drag you towards the door.

“Sammy,” you protested, searching through the gas for your brother.

“He’s fine,” Dean growled, pulling harder. “Now come on.”

“No!” You yanked your arm from Dean’s grasp. He didn’t try to grab you again; he didn’t think he had to.

“Y/N, come. That’s an order.”

You gritted your teeth, shoving down the pain in your body that begged you to listen to Dean.

“Screw your orders.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black as he advanced on you.

“You little—“

You didn’t hesitate—you lifted your hands and used the telekinesis that Dean had given you to fling him across the room. You turned your back, not even bothering to see where he landed.

…

You found Sam easily, and the two of you made it out of the building after Dean. The minute Sam stepped foot out the door, a man came out of nowhere and knocked him out.

“Sam!” You knelt next to your big brother, glancing in fear at the man who’d hit him. He hesitated when he saw you were just a kid.

“Stay out of my way, or you’re next,” he warned before turning to face Dean. You remembered Dean mentioning that a man was after him; you had no doubt that Dean would win this fight, so you turned your attention to waking Sam up—he was your only chance at bringing Dean home.

“Sammy, come on,” you urged. He only stirred once Dean and the other man were finished their fight—Dean won, but he didn’t kill the other man, to your surprise.

“Just stay here,” Sam instructed, shaking off his headache as he stood, demon cuffs held with his injured arm—you wondered suddenly how he’d been hurt—and holy water in the other hand.

You stayed back as Sam approached Dean from behind. It was over in mere seconds—Dean, distracted by the holy water, was unable to fight off the cuffs that Sam slapped on him.

“Dean, stop! It’s over.”

…

You got into the passenger’s seat after Sam ushered Dean into the back. Sam was outside, passing off the First Blade to Crowley.

“You picked the wrong side,” Dean said, and the sound of his voice made you flinch.

“Says the one in the handcuffs,” you shot back, but your voice was much too shaky for Dean to take seriously.

“Oh, this won’t last,” Dean said, lifting his hands. “And once these come off, you’re going to regret using those powers on me.”

…

You breathed easier when Sam returned to the Impala, and the three of you were off. Sam and Dean were arguing about Dean’s fight with that man, Cole. Sam was convinced that because Dean let him live, there was still some good in him.

“Letting him live was the worst thing I could’ve done to him,” Dean chuckled. “And that’s nothing compared to what I’m going to you.” Sam swallowed nervously, but Dean continued. “Or to our little sister.” You nearly jumped out of your seat when Dean kicked it.

“Stop it,” Sam demanded. “She…she didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, she picked her side,” Dean insisted. “And she picked wrong.”

…

You were shaking by the time the Impala reached the bunker. Sam kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the symptoms; you needed more blood.

“Stay here,” he instructed as he stepped out to get Dean. “I’m gonna get him settled downstairs and I’ll come back for you.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later Sam returned and led you to your room.

“You know what I have to do, right?” He asked gently. You nodded.

“Tie me down and lock me up, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I don’t want to, but—“

“But there’s a demon in the bunker, and I’m about to go through extreme withdrawals,” you finished. “I-I know Sam. It’s not your fault.” Your gaze was glued to your fidgeting hands.

“Hey, look at me.” When you met his gaze, Sam continued. “It’s not your fault either. I know you didn’t want it.”

“I started to.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Af-after a while, I started to want it. The power…all of it.”

“It’s ok.” Sam pulled you close, and his embrace made you feel more at home than you had in weeks. “I know how that feels, but we’re gonna fix it. I’m gonna be right here.”

When he pulled away, you took a deep breath.

“I’m ready.”

…

You were wrong. Dead wrong, and so was Sam. Sam was killing you, you were sure of it.

Of course, that was the withdrawal talking, but you were too far deep in your pain to know that. All you knew was that you’d never hurt this much in your life, and the way to make the pain go away was right downstairs, but Sam wouldn’t let you near it.

“I need Dean,” you cried for the thousandth time. “Sammy, please!” You were in too much pain to even notice that Sam wasn’t there, and he hadn’t been in to check on you in a while. In fact, you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the door opening, and the very person you were begging for walking in.

“I told you you picked the wrong side,” Dean chuckled, his voice grabbing your attention.

“Dean,” you whimpered, in too much pain to be scared or curious that he’d gotten out. “Dean, please.”

“You know—“ Dean sighed as he began to undo the straps holding your legs. “You talk too much.” Once both your legs were free, Dean made his way near your head. You swallowed hard as Dean picked up a knife that you’d left on your dresser. “So I think I’ve found the perfect punishment for you. I mean, you did use your powers on me. Did you think I was just going to forget that?”

“P-punishment?” You asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Dean glared down at you, his eyes flashing black. “First, I’m gonna cut off your tongue. Then, I’m gonna give you so much blood, that you won’t be able to think straight. Then you’re gonna help me kill Sammy, then Crowley. And if you ever disobey me again, I’ll slit your throat.” Dean grinned. “How’s that for a little brotherly love?”

Dean’s knife was inching closer to your mouth, his other hand gripping your face to keep you still, when the lights went out. Dean released you, and a tense silence filled the bunker for a moment or two before the emergency lights clicked on, red light casting an eery glow throughout your room.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Dean said to you. “Now that I know where Sammy is, you can wait; after all, you’re not going anywhere.”

All you could do was watch as Dean turned and walked out, intent on killing your brother.

…

You were struggling against the restraints to no avail when Sam came bursting into the room.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam demanded, alarmed when you suddenly burst into tears.

“I-I thought he was gonna kill you,” you cried.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Sam assured you as he started to undo you restraints.

“Don’t!” You insisted. “I’m…I don’t think I’m clean yet.”

Sam halted his movements, his eyes trained on your face.

“He didn’t hurt you?” Sam asked.

“He didn’t get the chance.” You sniffled. “W…where is he?”

“Chained up again,” Sam sighed. “Cas is watching him. I think…I think maybe he’s almost human now.”

“Go to him,” you insisted. “I’ll be ok here until I’m clean, really.” Somehow, Dean’s threats had strengthened your resolve to stay away from demon blood. “Go bring our Dean back.”

…

“I want to see her.”

Sam was adamant. “You can’t, not yet.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his newly-freed hands over his face.

“Why not?”

Before Sam could answer, a cry of pain could be heard from your room. Sam cringed.

“She…she’s still in detox. She could go nuts if she sees you, even though you’re not a demon anymore. We can’t take that chance.”

Dean didn’t argue; he knew Sam was right. Still, the next two days were complete torture as he was forced to stay away from you, listening to your pleas for him. Every time you called out his name was a reminder that it was Dean’s fault that you were hurting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering over and over under his breath every time you cried out; he was desperate to tell you in person.

After those awful two days, the screaming stopped. Dean was already halfway to your room when he was stopped by Sam.

“She’s ok,” Sam insisted. “I think she’s clean. I just took her restraints off.”

“Ok,” Dean said simply, trying to move past Sam and toward your door. Sam moved in front of him.

“She’s sleeping. She needs it.”

Dean deflated, discouraged.

“What is this, Sam? Are you really trying to help her, or do you just not trust me?” He knew he was being unfair, but he had to know.

“It’s not about you,” Sam assured him, clearly pushing away his hurt at Dean’s implication. “She needs rest. Besides, I…I don’t know how she’ll react to seeing you again, and I don’t want to push her faster than I need to.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, before finally asking the question that had been nagging at him for days.

“Do you think she hates me?”

Sam looked pained, as if he had expected the question.

“Right now I…I almost wish she did,” Sam said. “Because I think she hates herself more than anything.”

…

You’d been awake for about twenty minutes, but you hadn’t moved. At least, your body hadn’t moved; your mind was going at a breakneck speed. You remembered briefly that Sam had said Dean was cured, but you couldn’t be sure if you’d imagined it in your withdrawal fog. You were pretty sure that most of yesterday had been a hallucination. Sam had insisted that he wouldn’t let Dean in, yet there he had been, jeering at you, saying again and again that the second you were clean, you’d be useless again.

You knew it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. But the hallucination had been right anyway.

The sound of the door opening had your head turning, but your mind still hadn’t left its dark corner.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, and even though the door was only open a little, you could see Dean standing behind him. That only lasted for a moment before Sam squeezed himself into your room and shut the door behind him. “How are you?”

“He doesn’t want to see me?” Your eyes remained glued to the door where Dean had been standing, even as you sat up.

“What?” Sam frowned. “Of course he does, I just…I wanted to check with you first. Are you gonna be ok to see him?”

You nodded. “If…” you were suddenly nervous at the thought of seeing Dean after everything. “If he wants to.”

“Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?”

Shame bubbled up in you as you thought about the past few weeks, and you ducked your head, unwilling to answer Sam’s question. He didn’t push it; instead, he turned to go, leaving the door open so that Dean could take his place.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted gently, and you heard rather than felt your breath pick up at the sound of his voice. You kept your eyes downcast.

What did Dean think of you? You remembered how disappointed and angry he had been with Sam when Sam had gotten hooked on demon blood. Would Dean hate you now? Would he finally see you as the burden you’d always been, now that you didn’t have powers anymore?

“Sweetheart, would you look at me?” When your eyes met his, you saw not anger or disappointment, but sadness. That was too much for you. The tears came suddenly and soundlessly. “Oh, kiddo…” Dean sighed, reaching his hands out to comfort you. However, you’d spent too much time with the rough, angry demon Dean to see comfort in his hands. When you flinched back, Dean stopped immediately, returning his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry, I…” Dean’s voice cracked. “I didn’t come here to scare you, I just wanted to apologize. I know that doesn’t make up for what I did, but…but I wanted you to know.”

You looked up suddenly, not surprised but doubtful. You’d expected an apology from Dean, but you hadn’t expected it to sound quite so sincere; you’d expected underlying disappointment at least.

“You…” you swallowed. “You’re not upset with me?”

“With you?” Dean was confused. “Why would I be upset with you?”

You ducked your head as the tears returned.

“I-I was weak,” you choked out. “I’m still weak.”

“Hey, hey.” Dean tilted your chin up with his fingers, his hands as gentle as could be on your skin. “None of this—not one bit—was your fault. I did this to you, and I don’t blame you, not for a second. Understand?”

You were shaking your head.

“I-I should’ve—“

“There was nothing you coulda done to stop me,” Dean said, self-loathing lacing his every word. “And I know how impossible it is to stop on your own after you’ve started, I’d never blame you for getting addicted.”

You stayed silent as you processed his words. Once you had, you felt the need to speak again.

“I don’t blame you either,” you insisted. “You weren’t the same—demon you. It wasn’t anything like you, it wasn’t your fault.”

Dean looked dubious, but he also didn’t bother to argue. Comfortable silence reigned for several minutes before he spoke again.

“How do you feel?”

“Starving,” you answered honestly, to which Dean smiled.

“You wanna take a little trip? You and me, I’ll take you to get some food.”

The idea of Dean bundling you into the Impala and driving off—without Sam nonetheless—had terror gripping your heart, accelerating its pace. You didn’t blame Dean for what he’d done, but the memories were still all too fresh.

“Or,” Dean countered, instantly noting your panicked expression. “Or I could go and get something to bring back, and you, me, and Sammy could have a movie night?”

You nodded—that sounded perfect. Dean was just turning to go when you stopped him.

“Dean? Does…is there any part of you that wishes I’d stayed that way?”

“What way?” Dean’s brows drew together, whether in concern or confusion you couldn’t tell. “You mean, addicted to demon blood?”

“I just mean…” you struggled to force the words out. “I mean…useful.”

Deans face fell, and you regretted asking.

“What?”

“I-I mean, I don’t really do anything around here. At least then, I—“

“Stop.” You weren’t sure if it was the seriousness of his tone, or the fact that you’d spent the last few weeks obeying his every word, but you shut up immediately when Dean spoke. “I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Dean said slowly and deliberately, and again you stayed obediently silent. “Nothing about what I did to you was good, ok? And you are not useless. Actually,” Dean waved his hand in front of his face dismissively. “Forget about use. Sam was right, you’re not some tool, ok? You’re important to us, and not because of what you can do. But even if it was about that, you do so much for us. You’ve been with me and Sammy through everything, and that matters way more than you moving stuff with your mind, ok?”

Despite the tears that were still falling, you felt a smile tug at your lips.

“Ok, Dean.”

“Ok,” Dean said with a firm nod. “Go find Sam, and I’ll head out for food.”

You stood almost mechanically and headed for the door without a word. Dean recognized your stance with a silent horror.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice was shaky as he reached out and grabbed your hand. “That…it wasn’t an order, ok? I’m not making you do anything, I—“

“I know,” you interrupted, understanding his horror. “It’s just…habit, I-I guess. Shut up and obey, you know?” You wished you hadn’t added that last part when you saw Dean stiffen ever so slightly, swallowing hard.

“I’m so—“

“Don’t apologize again,” you pleaded. “I forgive you, ok? I-I guess I just need to unlearn some things.”

Dean nodded, but you could tell he was still beating himself up inside. You took two strides and reached him, pulling him into an embrace. His arms enveloped you entirely, and you realized that you’d forgotten how much you missed him.

“Tell me if I can help with that, ok?” He said.

“Ok,” you promised. “Now go get me some food, I’m starving.”

Dean’s chest rumbled next to your ear as he chuckled.

“Yes ma’am.”

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