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rabbitblackx · 1 year

Note

Hiii! Happy Halloween!

May I please have the slashers (Michael ‘78, Jason, Freddy, Brahms) when their usually cheery and happy-go-lucky S/O tells them they want someone de*d? (Censoring just in case aha)

Also, I love your works!

Hiiii! Happy (late) Halloween! Hope u had a spooktacular time!👻 also thank u sm! I really really appreciate it and am glad u like em! :D💖

Slashers when Cheerful!Reader tells them they want someone dead

Includes: Michael Myers (1978), Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger and Brahms Heelshire

Warning: Violence and sexual references

Michael Myers (1978)

*Head tilt*

Michael didn’t feel much, but it was safe to say he was a tad bit shocked when you said that. You, of all people… wanted someone dead?

Michael stalked this person, tracking them down to their house. Instead of killing them then and there, he dragged them kicking and screaming back to your place.

His white mask shone malevolently in the dark kitchen, void of emotion. Your wide eyes travelled down to the person restricted in his arms. Their head was bleeding and their mouth was covered by Michael’s hand, his other around their neck

“Michael…?”

He wasn’t going to kill them, he wanted you to do it

His black eyes were shadowed in darkness, but you knew what they said. In a silent exchange, you slowly slid open a drawer. The person struggled and screamed into Michael’s hand. Your fingers wrapped around the smooth handle of a knife, and you pulled it from the drawer

Michael watched in awe as you approached, shakily lifting the blade. He held the person against his chest, giving you access to their abdomen. You stabbed them over and over, much like how you learned from Michael. Their cries of pain soon died down to nothing but a gurgling death rattle. He threw the person roughly down to the kitchen floor, where their blood pooled around their limp body

Michael didn’t let you say anything. He thrusted you into a wall, making you squeak. He gripped your wrist tight, your hand still holding the bloody knife. He was completely infatuated with you in this moment. His hungry eyes traced down your body as he breathed heavily behind his mask. Though you had just literally killed someone, you could feel yourself coming back to your cheery self as his lustful gaze made you all giddy inside.

Michael gently grabbed your throat, and tugged you towards your bedroom

Jason Voorhees

Though he wouldn’t show it, he was a bit concerned when you weren’t as happy or cheery as you usually were. One morning in bed, as you both sat up, he gently wrapped his strong arms around your frame. A tired smile met your face, knowing that was how he sometimes asked, are you okay?

“I’m fine, Jacey. It’s just that…”

When you told him you wanted someone dead in that sweet little voice of yours, the arms around you stiffened. Rage overtook Jason’s thoughts. What did this person do to you? If you, cute and innocent you, wanted someone dead, they must’ve been the devil himself

That night, Jason left the woods and headed to the more suburban area of Crystal Lake. He was an excellent hunter, and found your foe real quick. He stood over their bed as they slept, their chest rising and falling with each breath. The person soon furrowed their brow and stirred, sensing the hateful eyes boring into them. Jason hardly gave them a moment to realise what was happening before he went in for the kill. He thrusted his machete down, over and over until they were spewing hot blood all over the bedsheets

Jason walked back home, pretty satisfied with himself. His mother was quite proud of him as well. But what excited him the most, was your own glowing words of praise. You were finally gonna be your happy self again!

Jason crept into the cabin, trudging towards your shared bedroom. You slept soundly within the sheets. Unlike his last victim, he would not wake you so rudely. He instead laid down next to you, bloody clothes and all. Jason wrapped his arms around you and pulled your back into his chest

“Mmm, Jason…?” You croaked

You could feel the fresh blood dampening the blanket. But alas, you were too tired to care. You also knew exactly who’s it was

“Love you, Jason.” You smiled

Jason rested his head on top of yours, cuddling against you affectionately

I love you too

Freddy Krueger

Instantly aroused😨😨

Freddy laughed evilly and licked his lips at you. Now we were talking! He loved that you were always happy and cheery, it was what made you so fun. But there was that small part of him that just wanted to ask, don’t you just wanna go ape shit?

He was gonna go kill them, sure. But in that moment, all he wanted was you. He slammed you against the wall and gripped your waist hard. Flirty giggles bubbled from your lips as he pulled you into a needy kiss

Freddy slithered into the person you wanted dead’s dreams like a fox to a chicken coop. He tormented them continuously, physically and mentally. He even interrogated them, shouting right in their face about you

“How dare you fucking touch them? You’re mine now, you little bitch!”

Couple slashes to the face later, Freddy waltzed his way over to your own dreams; his favourite place in the whole world. You greeted him with a wide smile and open arms, running up to him and attacking him in a hug. Freddy was careful with his bladed glove as he hugged you back

“It’s all taken care of, prince(ss). They won’t bother you ever again.”

Freddy pressed his chapped lips to yours, then shoved his bare hand under your shirt. Now the gory deed of his was done, he wanted you all to himself. You thought you could be all sexy, ask him to kill for you and then get away with it? Nuh-uh, babe! He was gonna eat you up

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms always adored how joyful you were. Whenever he felt blue, you were right there to cheer him up! What would he ever do without you?

One night, after reading Brahms a bedtime story in the most enthusiastic and engaging way possible, you gave him a goodnight kiss before cuddling up next to him in your shared double bed. Like usual, he fell asleep before you did, with his curls nestled against your chest. Just as you were about to drift off yourself, a loud crash sounded from downstairs. You nearly jumped out of your skin, becoming alert. You shook Brahms furiously awake, causing him to moan and groan in protest

“Brahmsy, I heard something from downstairs! I think there’s someone down there!”

You both leapt to your feet and snuck down to where you heard the noise. Just as you guessed, a burglar was in the living room, shoving old antiques and your tech into a duffel bag. He soon locked eyes with you, before looking over to Brahms. The burglar charged towards him, tackling him to the floor. The porcelain mask Brahms wore shattered into five large pieces, and laid at your feet. You screamed bloody murder as the two men began to tussle with each other. You kicked at the burglar, trying to get him off your boyfriend

Brahms ended up shoving him off, scrambling to his feet and looming over the smaller man. You looked to the broken mask on the floor, and a wave of anger hit you

“Kill him, Brahms.”

Before you could even realise what you just said, it was too late. Like a trained attack dog, Brahms threw himself onto the burglar. He straddled his hips, holding him down. He felt around for one of the shards of porcelain, and snatched one off the floor.

Brahms drove the jagged edge into the burglar’s throat. Your words echoed in his mind as he twisted the porcelain deep within the man’s jugular. He would do anything for you. You told him to do something, and he was straight on it. Always

When the burglar’s body stilled, Brahms lifted himself off him and stumbled over to you.

“Brahmsy…”

You threw your arms around him, and laid your head against his chest

“It’s okay, dear. I’ll protect you forever.” Brahms uttered in that deep, rich voice of his

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wrr000 · 4 days

Text

"like a shadow"

Summary: The ghoul you hired for protection liked you more than both of you would expect.

Warnings: english isn't my first language; really short; it's from my Cooper x oc fic, but idk if I should post chapters here; pure soft; inner thoughts; reader is similiar to Lucy

»»————-　♡　————-««

You finally made it to town. Walking thru the wasteland felt like an endless journey while burning sun was always watching every step of foolish humans, who dared to cross these lands. And it wasn't the only threat waiting for your mistep. You earned that stop to rest and gather strength. He deserved it as well.

This place was pretty civilian. By the standards of the wasteland, of course. People were trying to live a "normal" life and some constantly pretended like The Great War never happened. You didn't mind it as long as they didn't act suspicious towards you. Besides, he was here and that made you feel... safe. Kinda. Weird nonetheless.

He was the one who announced parting ways in town and you kindly agreed (like you had a choice).

"I'm goin' to check what chems they got here, think you can handle things on your own, Vaultie" - usual smirk appeared on his fucked up face.

That ghoul was driving you insane. Even after paying him for escort and protection he was still threatening you and bitching around that he actually doesn't care about you and if something big is going to happened - his life goes first, not you. But the sad truth was - you couldn't really blame him.

Ironically, someone like him turned out to be the kindest thing you met since reaching the surface. He was terriyfing, cruel and nothing alike anyone from the Vault. But as time passed, you saw something more in him, under that hard shell and feeling of fear passed. His action were still shocking to you, but wasteland has it's own rules and you started to understand that.

It wasn't a suprise that Cooper didn't want to walk around the town. You felt like he couldn't stand you. But it was fine, you kinda enjoyed exploring and discovering the town alone. Just like the good old times as a child in the Vault.

Little you knew that you had a shadow. Unaware of a pair of penetrating eyes watching your every graceful move. Your smile was the brightest on the whole planet and every small gesture was full of passion. Analizing you very carefuly. You didn't saw him, but he saw you perfectly.

It was hard for the ghoul to admit it to himself that he grew fond of you during your journey together. Very hard. Worst, poor bounty hunter realized that he had a soft spot for a stupid naive Vaultie. Thankfully, you didn't notice anything and he could suffer in silence.

You reminded him of a long gone humanity. Always kind and polite, naive as hell, delusional and annoying. You even never judged him for being a ghoul! Ohhh, how he hated you, but loved at the same time. You were like his human half, a long lost part. He knew you wouldn't last long out there, people like you never lasted long.

Cooper took this job for money of course. You offered a good amount of caps and it was equal with massive stock of chems. But now, he thougth to himself, it would be a shame if something happened to you, right? That's why he was doing an "extra" job. Always watching, even if he didn't had to, always protecting you, even if you didn't noticed it.

In a long long long time the ghoul felt like a human again. It was pissing him off, but he missed that feeling. Well, he missed his whole previous life actually, more than he would like, but you kinda started to filling that void inside his ghoulish heart. Slowly.

#fallout #fallout tv series #fallout x reader #fallout the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #fallout cooper howard #one shot #soft one shot

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fraugwinska · 25 days

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I LOVED IT AAAAAA COULD U DO A PART TWO THATS A LITTLE SMUTTY??? (I’m the anon who asked about the brat reader! :3)

Since not only you, but also the wonderful @sybilsmelodyonthewireless asked for it - who am I to deny you? ;>

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Un)Holy Tease

Ah, you loved the feeling of claws in your hair. A good night always started with claws in your hair. True, you had been especially annoying today – It had just been too long since Alastor had pulled you into his bed with this dominating, smug smile you craved, but you knew he denied you on purpose, finding wicked glee in your growing desperation. But two could play that game.

What tipped the scale – you weren't sure. If you had to chose, you'd say it was when you refused to eat his freshly cooked dinner, his mom's prized Jambalaya of all things, because you ''didn't feel like it''. You knew that it would drive him mad, and you would've maybe felt bad if it wasn't the quickest - and safest - way into his sheets.

Alastor caged your mostly undressed self under him, his dress shirt open and with a dark smile on his lips.

„I said: Look at me, darling.“

You rose your chin a bit higher, as much as his firm grip in your hair allowed – the slight pain from it sent shivers down your spine. „I'm good, thank you.“

Your smile quickly turned into a gasp as he tugged hard on your scalp, forcing your face to turn to him.

„A little mouthy today, are we?“, he purred, slowly scraping the inside of your thighs with his free hand. You felt the inhuman urge to tilt your hips, to guide his traveling finger to where you wanted them to be, but you refused to give in that easily. „Do you really think you get what you so clearly want with that little attitude of yours?“

You gripped the sheets beneath you, just to stop yourself from grabbing his shoulders and pull him onto you. Patience, you reminded yourself, work him until he's ready.

„Who says I want anything from you?“, you say decidedly casual, blinking up to him, registering with delight his little snarl and the glimmer of frustration in his eyes. He lowered himself, you could feel his hot breath on your collarbone as his hand traveled up, up, up to your heated core, just halting before actually touching the already wet fabric.

„Your body betrays you, pet.“, he chuckled, tilting his head to inhale your scent. You almost slip, letting your hands free from the grip on the bed sheets to touch him just a bit, but he is quicker than you, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head with the help of his shadow companions. „You were most unruly today, but I'll overlook your little tantrums... if you beg for it.“

Your body bent and tensed like a hunters bow, you forced yourself to not moan at his words. The tightrope you walked on got thinner and thinner. Just a bit more.

„Make me.“

A low growl accompanied the tear of your lace panties, before his arm snaked to your back and around your waist, flipping you on all fours. He pressed your shoulders down into the mattress, keeping your ass up in the air. One of his long digits swiped violently through your soaked slit, flicking your clit in the most cruel, delicious way. You bit your tongue, quieting the whine that wanted to escape. Almost there.

“So defiant. What a naughty girl you are.” Another swipe, another flick, slower this time, agonizingly slow. Thank god you could bury your face in the fabric, because this time a moan was unpreventable. But he heard it, as he always did, and it encouraged him, his sharp tip rounding your pearl, once, twice, three times, with just the right intensity. Then he stopped.

The pressure disappeared, and so did his finger.

Even though you were prepared, it still left you cold and empty, making you draw a heavy sigh of frustration.

“I do hate to repeat myself, dear. But alas, once more: If you want me to continue... beg.”

“Please...” you pressed through your teeth, shaking from the loss of contact, the anticipation setting your skin on fire.

“Hm? What was that? Use your pretty, little mouth, darling, and speak up.”

The cocky, saturated tone of his voice made you almost come on the spot. You took a deep, trembling breath, your lungs burned with impatience.

“Please, Alastor, please with sugar on top. Just fuck me already.”

The touches returned, oh so sweetly and forcefully, it made you choke on your own breath. His thumb swirled around your sensitive bud while two of his fingers pumped, in and out, filling the humming room with unholy, squelching sounds. Your face, still pressed into the covers of his bed, flushed as you started to pant softly, keeping your mewls to a minimum. You still had a little fight in you.

His hand raked from your shoulders down your spine, sharp tips drawing prickling lines on your back. He tuttet at you, but you heard the growing lust when he spoke. “Such filthy words. Since you decided to behave like such a spoiled brat today, I shall treat you just as one.”

Fuck yes. You heard the ruffle of fabric, the clatter of a belt buckle. To seal the deal, you put everything what was left of your smug confidence in your next words, knowing you wouldn't be able to speak coherently in the foreseeable future either way.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

The answer was a single thrust, deep and without mercy. Your breath hitched in your throat, he filled you to the brim, making your eyes water and your mind ecstatic. With no time to adjust, he started to move, quick, assaulting snaps of his hips, pushing deeper and deeper into you. His hands with firm grip on your waist, he pushed you to and away from him, while his shadows, wicked things that they were, pulled your constricted wrists up over your head so far your upper body rose from the bed and hung in mid-air.

“You'll take everything I give you, and you'll thank me for it, darling.” His husky voice was filled with buzzing white noise. You tried to answer, but the new position made him hit all the right spots, the only thing audible were your mindless moans.

A loud clap and the instant burn on your ass made you yelp in pain and pleasure.

“Come on, darling, say it.”

In between the heavy panting, you managed to breathe a strained “t-thank you...”, just before another smack hit your already sore cheek. Combined with his unrelenting thrusts, this was the most delectable torture. “T-thank y-you.”, you sobbed, feeling the familiar tightening, that sweet pressure in your midst rising, ready to pop.

“There's my good girl...” Alastor purred, picking up speed, his claws deep in the flesh of your hips. “Now cum, darling.”

Everything happened at once – stars before your eyes, walls clenching around his still throbbing member, a long, loud, relieved cry that sounded like his name, a kiss on your sweat-covered neck. You felt him thrusting a few times more before warmth coated your insides, and you felt his weight slumping on your back. Together, you fell forward into the messed up sheets as the shadows tenderly let your wrists go, the only sounds your quiet humms of pleasure – like echoes of your moans – and his fizzzing and popping static noises.

He rolled off you onto his back and pulled you up his chest, his fingers raking through your ruffled hair. You felt happy, fulfilled and so deeply in love with this demon, taking a moment to lean into his soft caresses. But the night was still young, and – as you know – a good night always starts with claws in your hair.

“Mhh... is that all you got?”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #fraugwinskawrites #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut

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strniohoeee · 2 months

Text

Hidden In The Shadows

Part 2 Here

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Following a lesson about this town that seemed to suddenly vanish, Y/N is intrigued to figure out what truly happened. However she might’ve bitten off more than she can chew….

Warnings⚠️: Nothing crazy, talks of/explanations of a cult, creepy rural town. This was from a Drabble about matt based on a type of horror movie he’d be done by @gamermattsgf she’s wifey and I had to adapt this into an imagine😫 @st7rnioiossblog

Song for imagine: Oblivion- Grimes

I never walk about after dark

It’s my point of view

Cause someone could break your neck

Coming up behind you

Always coming and you’d never have a clue

Moving out of my hometown wasn’t on my bingo cards for this year and moving out of my hometown for a research project was 1000 percent not on my bingo cards. Yet somehow I was packed up and on the road within three months of starting my project.

I’ve always had a weird niche for all things history, but especially history that just seems to vanish into thin air. I began to become extremely interested in towns that are no longer on the map due to poverty, weather change or even these people becoming hunters and gathers. Packing up and moving out in an instant. It all started in my senior year of college. I was studying geography at my local four year college in my hometown of Nevada.

Honestly I hated college all the long hours, all the homework and also having a full time job on top of that, but I had a full ride so I decided to suck it up. My very last year I had some space for a filler class that got me extra credits so I landed on the study of United States Lands focusing on increase and decrease of population throughout the recent centuries.

Personally I thought the class was going to suck, but to my surprise my professor was amazing. Towards the end of my final semester we began to learn about Pleasant Town Oklahoma. A once booming town immediately vanished off the face of the earth.

“Now class you may be asking yourself why was this town so rich? And I’m here to tell you it’s because the mayor at the time in the year 1915 had connections with our president. They hid money, fabrics, food and all types of expensive items within this small town” Mr Wayne stated

“I mean with hiding all this stuff how did they become so wealthy?” One guy had asked, my eyes darting to him

“They were being paid off for hiding these things, however the money was dirty money, so they created many businesses to get the cash flow moving. From one store to one man’s pocket to the next and then next thing you know that dirty money is in George's hand who lives in Virginia! It was all an amazing scheme, very smart. But as you can see it didn’t last long nor did it end well” He had stated as he clicked the laptop to show the next slide shown on the board

“Within three years of this operation this small town alone was bringing in about $100,000 a month which is over $2 million dollars in today's money. So then you ask yourself how does such a rich state with so much money just disappear? And all the money too?” He states scratching his chin

“So Professor Wayne….what exactly happened to them?” I asked after raising my hand

“No one really knows” he states uncrossing his arms and leaning off the desk

“I mean there has to be a reason right? That’s a lot of money to just disappear” I state as I jot down notes

“Well here’s the other thing, there are many rumors dating back to the creation of Oklahoma which was 1907. Sources have stated that Pleasant Town is evil and I’m talking demonic evil. People have said the reason the cash flow never stopped was because they were all a cult and seemingly used one another as sacrifice.” He stated clearing his throat

“Sacrifice?” I questioned raising my eyebrow

“Well yes! In many cultures it is stated if you do a blood sacrifice for the devil and/or sell your soul then your wishes shall come true. Their wishes were to stay wealthy. This came with problems however” he says as he sits down at his desk

The whole class was on the edge of their seats waiting for him to go on.

“Many of these men had short arms and deep pockets. Making it very easy for one man to kill the next out of greed” Wayne goes on

“And didn’t they get caught? I mean the president wouldn’t allow that” one classmate states

“Very true! The town was very small, only about 80 people now if 10 people suddenly die many eyebrows are raised. For a while they covered up the stories claiming a sickness like smallpox. The mayor decided to bring animals claiming this would make them richer since they produce meat, eggs and milk. Now he wasn’t wrong, but the animals were used in these blood sacrifices to hide their tracks” he says nodding his head

“God these people were ahead of their time” I blurt out and crossed my arms over their chest

“Oh they were, but that might’ve costed them their fortunes and their town” Professor Wayne states

“So that’s it? They just left? And what now?” I asked him

“It’s stated that they just separated, leaving most of the money to the whole state of Oklahoma. Afraid the president was after them or maybe they danced with the devil for too long and ended up paying the price” he states bluntly

“And the price is?” I asked him

“Death” he says frowning a bit which caused a chill to run up my spine

“But this is all speculation. About 30 years later Pleasant Town was rebuilt and supposedly none of that cult stuff was brought to that town. And till this day it’s still up and running. I believe the population is only about 200-250 people max?” He says rubbing his chin in thought

“I mean that’s just sad… we’ll never know the truth” I said to him shutting my notebook

“I mean you could always go and visit, spend the summer there. See what it’s like……anybody up for a challenge” he says laughing as the class shudders in fear and averts their eyes to the floor

I mean I was super interested in this lost town with such a dark history that suddenly reappeared 30 years after weird cult shit was happening. I could always take the summer off from work since I graduate in May….. take a road trip to Pleasant Town Oklahoma. Find the real history and report back to Professor Wayne.

My thoughts were interrupted when the bell rang and he bid his goodbyes to the class. Everyone was quick on their feet out of the door, but I stood back very interested in talking to him.

I trotted over to his desk as he shut his laptop, stuffing it into his book bag. His eyes darting up once he felt my presence

“Ahh Ms. Y/L/N…. You seemed very intrigued with today's lesson, planning a weekend getaway?” He asked me playfully

“Funny that you mention it because I was thinking more of a whole summer get away” I stated

“A whole summer?” He says brows lifting immediately

“I’m really interested in this town. I mean a mayor in on cult rituals to bring tons of cash in and the president not having a clue? And then they just vanished? This is like a movie sir” I state as I ramble on

“I mean it’s all just speculations Y/N” he says smiling at me

“I know sir, but is there any way I can get your research on this town so I can study it a bit more? I plan on building a whole case for this and figuring it out” I pleaded

“You’re really interested in this aren’t you?” He asks opening his bag up

“I really am Professor Wayne” I say back

“Here, but listen this is a tight knit community. Don’t go digging your nose where it doesn’t belong. Tread lightly this isn’t your turf, okay? In a town like that with such a small population and a dark history, you don’t want any enemies” he says handing me the folder titled “Pleasant Town”

“Yes, and thank you sir” I stated nodding my head

After that I finished my final semester two months later in May. Between work and classes I built up more of a file on this town jumping from a folder to two binders stacked with information.

Two days after my graduation I did some research on the town. This place had no hotels, no motels and for sure no air bnbs. That’s where I ran into my first problem, attempting to find a place to stay.

Searching on Zillow I had found a house for rent. In the middle of nowhere. One gravel road and corn fields. From the pictures it did seem there were few houses across and next to it, so I figured that was perfect. I'd make friends with neighbors.

I mean the house was decent for the area. Seemed to be a two bedroom two bathroom house. The bedrooms upstairs, one bathroom down stairs and one upstairs. Had a pretty average sized kitchen in the back of the house, a dining room to the right of the front door, a living room to the left of the front door, the stairs faced the front door, and then there were small hallways that lead to the kitchen. And there was a basement that seemed small, well kept and empty. It sucks to say I actually liked the place

My second problem began when I called the realtor a very old southern man by the name of Beaufort Smithson. I dialed him that morning and from the moment he heard my accent he seemed to turn a cold shoulder.

“Please sir” I pleaded with him

“Listen ma’am you sound young and not from these parts. What bring someone like you around this small town” he states deeply

“Well I’m from Nevada and it’s just so crazy here and I’ve been looking to stay somewhere a few states away that’s quiet and small” I state

“But you’re looking to rent from June 1st to August 31st…. We do 7 month rentals” he says bluntly

“Well I want to see it I like it first” I say lying through my teeth

“Can’t you see from the pictures if you like it or not” he says sucking on his tobacco tucked in his lip

“I can have the full rent for those three months ready for you in cash” I state desperately

“In cash you say” he says as I hear his chair squeak from underneath him

God these people really were money hungry till this day…

“Yes sir $800 a month for 3 months I can get you that $2,400 in cash June 1st” I state

“Well little lady you have yourself a deal. Now get yourself a pen and paper and jot this down. June 1st 12 in the afternoon we’re going to meet at the gas station in Pleasant Town” he states spitting his tobacco into a styrofoam cup

“Uhhh what gas station is that sir?” I ask as the pen dangled in my hand

“Sweetie we only got one gas station down yonder….you can’t miss it” he says chuckling

“Right…. Well thank you Mr. Smithson, my names Y/N Y/L/N, and I’ll be seeing you on June 1st” I state

“Well alright darling see you then” he says chuckling

“Oh by the way I look like-“ but I was cut off

“Oh trust me I’ll know what you look like…..safe travels” he whispers before hanging the phone up on me

That phone call made me slightly regret my choices of spending my summer with some shit kickers than on the Las Vegas strip…..

I spent the last two and a half weeks packing, purchasing what I know I won’t find in Oklahoma and doing more research.

I think I was on page 4,000 on google before I found a new article with information I hadn’t seen before. I placed my plate of pizza down as my eyes scanned the laptop screen quickly.

It was a newspaper clipping dating back to the year 1953. Only 70 years ago…. Interesting. The title stated “Farm owner questioned in the massive slaying of all his animals” my brows furrowed.

There’s no possible way that 70 years ago these cult killings continued? But my fingers scrolled down further as I began to whisper

“Confused and angry farm owner, Thomas Sturniolo was seen today yelling at cops as he was taken out of his small Pleasant Town home. After all his farm animals died and weird things happened around town he was suspected of killing his animals in a weird cult-like way. Demanding he be let loose, and that the town was crazy and out to get him because he is the wealthiest farmer. Insisting his competition killed his livestock and not him.”

My eyes couldn’t believe what I was reading…this was pretty recent honestly. This was happening around the time my grandparents were young children… I printed those news clippings out along with many other clippings of his arrest, his release and his disappearance…..

Adding them to my binder as I finished my pizza. This was so insane to me, and this would make a great conversation with professor Wayne after my studies.

I opened up my email and decided to email my professor.

Hello Professor Wayne! I hope your summer treats you well. In about three days I am off to study the lost town of Pleasant Town Oklahoma. That folder of information you gave me has grown into two large binders, and I found more information today. Down below you’ll find links to news articles dating back to the 50’s about weird cult animal killings! I think you’d find it fascinating! I’d like to update you here and there through my three month stay, and then maybe when I get back we can discuss all my findings over lunch! Thank you for your time! Hope to talk to you soon. -Sincerely, Y/N Y/L/N

Two days later I was all packed up into my car. About four large luggage and two duffel bags…. I was well prepared to say the least. Saying bye to my family and friends I began my venture to Pleasant Town.

My venture was a full day, and I made sure I counted for gas breaks, nap breaks and food breaks to make sure I got to Mr. Smithson at 12 on the dot.

June 1st 11:25 am- 35 min ETA Pleasant Town Gas Station

I was coming across the entrance to the town. I was jamming out to SZA, bobbing my head I looked over to my right smiling as I read the sign

“Welcome to Helltown….once you get in you’ll never get out!” It read

My smiled dropped, I snatched my sunglasses off my face and turned the radio down….. a cold sweat began to form on my back as I looked in the rear view mirror

What the fuck was that? I was becoming increasingly anxious and wondered if I just made the worst mistake of my life. I rubbed my lips together in anxiety as I gripped onto the steering wheel harder.

I chose to shake it off, there has to be a logical explanation for this I thought to myself. Putting my sunglasses back on, I turned my music up a little bit and continued down the silent road.

My map told me 1 minute, and slowly I pulled up to a very old and very dusty gas station. Coming to a stop as the gravel left a smoke trail ahead of my car.

I put the car in park and hopped out, stretching my back and cracking my neck. Suddenly an old man hopped out of his large red truck. Spitting tobacco on the ground as he waddled over

“You, young lady must be Y/N?” He asks as he sucks the tobacco

“Yes sir I am” I state as I smile and place my hand out to shake his

Looking down as he smacks his lips, he firmly shakes my hands.

“Good to met ya, welcome to Pleasant Town” he states coughing

“Thank you Mr. Smithson” I state smiling once again

“Well uhh” he states smiling at me

“Oh right” I say, eyes going wide as I walk over to the passenger side. Grabbing the envelope with all the money in it.

“Here you go, $2,400 cash” I state handing the envelope over to him

He grabs the envelope and takes the money out, beginning to count it

“300,400,500-“ he says flying through the money

“Uhh what’s with the welcome sign saying welcome to Helltown? Once you get in you’ll never get out?” I ask pointing over my shoulder

He immediately stops counting, sucks his teeth and looks up at me through his lashes

“Idiot teenagers who have nothing better to do than destroy property that isn’t theirs” he states as he goes back to counting

“Oh…” I state rocking back and forth on my heels

“Alright it’s all here! Thank you sweetheart. I’ll drive you to your house just follow behind me” he states stuffing the money back in the envelope

“Thank you sir” I state as he turns and walks back to his truck

I hop in mine and wait for him to go, following closely behind him I take in the surroundings. Trees, dirty roads, corn fields, farm houses, large stacks of hay and pretty decent sized homes. They were just super outdated.

It was only about a 15 minute drive, but man it felt like forever. I’d hate to get stuck with no gas on a road like this.

Pulling up to the house he pulls onto the gravel driveway as I do too. We both hop out and we walk towards the house. We walk up the steps and wait on the front porch as he digs around for the keys.

Looking around I take in the surroundings, there’s quite a bit of farms around here…. My thoughts are interrupted when he finds the keys and opens the door. Allowing me to walk in first

“I had my crew clean up the place for you” he states shutting the door

“Oh, do you own a cleaning company?” I ask looking at him

“No.. I get these young boys out here to do what needs to be done around these parts” he states bluntly

“Oh the young teenagers who mess around” I say laughing

“No, I send those boys to work the corn fields…. The older men do the hard work round here. The cleaning, the lifting, the shootin” he says sucking the tobacco

“Shooting?” I ask as I turn to face him

“Yup they shoot the ones for my man down under” he states looking me dead in my eyes

“What?” I ask as I began to get nervous

“Oh I’m sorry sweetheart I must be confusing you, you see my dad loved to hunt but he’s too old now and lives in my basement. He has me send out the young men to shoot for him and bring him back some animals” he states chuckling

“Ohhhh yeah” I say laughing awkwardly

“Well young lady this is your home now” he says handing me the keys.

“Thank you” I say meekly

“You got your dining room, living room, and kitchen all down here fully furnished as you can see. Bathroom down here one upstairs and both bedrooms upstairs. Oh uhh I’d suggest food shopping early in the day, you don’t want to be out late at night around here….that is due to the wild animals of course like bears and coyotes” he states looking at me

“Of course” I say nodding politely

“Make sure you lock your doors at night. Especially the back door….. animals in the kitchen are never a good thing” he says turning around to head to the front door

“Got it” I state

“And uhhh we’re a family here….youre house is my home….or whatever the saying is….my house is your house….ah you know what I mean” he says shaking his head

We bid our goodbye and I watched him drive off. My hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. This whole conversation was making me nervous and uneasy. One other thing I realized was I’d be having no WiFi here. However my phone had 5G and the service wasn’t awful here shockingly….. I immediately sent an email back to Professor Wayne

“Just got here! The house is actually super nice. It's very historical and artsy. The realtor is a total creep though. His name is Beaufort so that explains a lot! He said some weird things and made weird analogies. Making it seem like beyond the naked eye there’s more to this town…. I’ll keep you posted”

I hit send and slid my phone back into my pocket. I placed the keys in my front pocket and walked outside. The warm sun kissed my skin as I squinted. Walking over to my car I popped the trunk and began to take my luggage’s out.

Suddenly I felt like there were eyes on me. The way the area got super quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. I looked over my shoulder in the least scared way possible. There was nobody there. I rubbed my forehead and let out a breath.

“Y/N relax” I whispered to myself as I took my last luggage out

However unbeknownst to Y/N, she was in fact being watched. A young man on the second floor of his parents house. He stood in his room peering at the young woman through his sheer curtains.

His gaze was dull as he stared out the window, sweat trickled down his forehead, his mouth hung open slightly and his breathing became deep. His fingers swirled and tugged at his red flannel.

She was like out of a movie. He had never seen a woman like that down here. Those are the ones his mom warned him about. The type who didn’t like boys like him, the type he should….hate. However when he looked at her he couldn’t hate her….she seemed precious….precious just like his horse Bertha.

“Young Man! What did I tell you about standing at that window” he heard from behind him, he jilted and turned around

“I’m sorry mama…I wasn’t doin nuffin” he states as he looks at her

“It is not polite to stare at people you aren’t a child anymore. You don’t do that” she says to him

“I wasn’t looking I swear” he says with pleading eyes

“Well you go on now. Your father and I are leaving for the afternoon” she says to the boy

After his mom leaves he pears out his window again. The young woman had stopped to talk on the phone. He was so fascinated by her he simply couldn’t look away.

I hung up the phone after saying bye to my mom and pulled out my second luggage. Rolling it into my house and coming back out to get my third luggage. I huffed out a breath of air and wiped the sweat off my forehead

I leaned over to get the third luggage but it was stuck on something. I sucked my teeth and began to tug on the handle harder.

“Need a hand ma’am?” I heard from behind me

“OH SHIT” I yelled turning around and grabbing my heart

“Oh im sorry darling I didn’t mean to scare you” the young man states backing up a bit

“No it’s okay, I’m new to town so I’m a bit jumpy” I state shaking my head

“My apologies for sneaking up behind you, may I help you?” He asks looking at my trunk

“Yeah please that would be great” I say smiling as I tried to control my breathing

The young man grabs both of my luggages for me and I grab my duffel bags. We walk to the house and he leads the way to my other two luggage’s.

“Thank you so much” I say placing my bags on the couch

“My pleasure sweetheart” he says nodding his head

“I’m Y/N” I say sticking my hand out

“I’m Matthew, but I go by Matt” he says wiping his forehead with the inside of his shirt. The shirt lifted just enough for me to get a perfect view of his lower stomach.

Damn…why were the shit kickers in a creepy town always so hot…. I guess the movies aren’t wrong..

“Well Matt thank you once again, can I offer you some water?” I ask him

“Water would be nice” he says smiling a bright smile

We walked to the kitchen and I found some old glasses left behind. I rinsed it with water and then gave him some water from the sink.

He drank the full cup, allowing the water to dribble down his chin and to his neck. My gaze ever so slightly following the head of water.

“So, what brings you to this part of town darling?” He asks, his accent so thick I couldn’t even focus

“I come from a busy town and I’ve always wanted to move to a small rural area. Pleasant Town seemed just right” I state licking my lips

“Once you see what this towns like you’ll go running for the hills” he says smirking darkly

“What do you mean by that?” I asked clearing my throat

“Well we hunt, we drink beer til we’re piss drunk and race in old cars for fun, we sneak into farms at night and tip over the sleeping cows…. Amongst many other things” he states handing the glass back over to me

“Oh that’s nothing compared to where I’m from” I say placing the glass in the sink

“And that is?” He asks crossing his legs as he leaned against the wall

“Las Vegas Nevada” I state nodding

“Never been” he states

“You should visit one day” I say

“If I ever leave this town” he states swallowing thickly

“If you ever leave?” I question once again

“Well you know this place is home I don’t know how I’d do in a big place like that” he says smiling at me

“I suppose you guys are pretty far behind on a lot” I say giggling

“Oh trust me aren’t we all” he says kicking himself off the wall

“Well uh thank you so much Matt I don’t mean to keep you” I say to him as I begin to walk out the kitchen

“Oh no worries darlin” he says as he follows behind me his thick cowboy boots hitting the wood in all the right places

He opened my front door and began to head out

“I’ll see you around neighbor” I state to him

“See you around, oh and if you ever feel like there’s eyes on you….that's because there is….you know small town haha we can’t escape each other” he says coldly before adding a laugh at the end

“Right…right” I state smiling at him and blinking quickly

I watch him walk across the street and head into the home. I lock my car doors and shut my front door. Locking the door before walking to the kitchen back door, locking that one as well.

I spent the rest of the day sweeping up, cleaning and setting up my room. I hadn’t realized how late it gotten or how hungry I was till my stomach growling woke me up from a small Power Nap.

I got up and realized it was 8pm, I wasn’t sure what food stores would be open, but it was worth the try. Ignoring the warning not to go out at night I grabbed my house keys and car keys.

Locking the front door, I got into my car. Turning it on I put it in reverse. I looked over my right shoulder and when I went to look over my left Matt was there and had banged on my window.

I jumped out of my skin and hit the breaks. Rolling my window down I was breathing heavy

“Sorry sweetie” he says as he looks down at me

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked him genuinely curious

“Oh me? No no, but you, you shouldn’t be out at this hour” he states

“It’s 8pm though?” I say furrowing my brows

“Yeah well the bears and coyotes come out this time” he says tapping the hood of my car

“I’m just running to the local store” I say

“You shouldn’t be out at this hour” he says again a bit firmer

“Umm okay” I say to him, remember what Professor Wayne said “no enemies this isn’t my turf”

I placed the car back in park and got out. Shutting the door and locking it I looked at Matt, a shot gun in his right hand as my eyes darted up.

“Don’t worry darling this ain’t nothing special. I use this to hunt” he says to me as he moves the gun back a bit

“For uhh Mr. Smithson’s dad?” I ask as my eyes slowly track up to his

“Oh no I do a different type of hunting for him” he says clearing his throat

“Do you now” I say rocking on my heels

“I get the animals causing issues for us here, the ones eating up all our crops. We can’t have those round these parts” he states chuckling

“Yeah…yeah bad for business. I’m going to head in for the night then” I say pointing behind myself

“Well alright now! You have a great night” he says in a whisper while offering me a smile

I smile back before turning in my heels and heading back into the house. Locking the door immediately as I run up the stairs.

I decided to shower and eat some leftover snacks. By this point it was midnight and I decided to brush my teeth so I could lay down for the night.

Shutting the bathroom light off I walk into my dark room using the brightness of my screen to lead me to my bed. Shutting my bedroom door behind me I trot over to my bed. However something in my peripheral view catches my eye.

Through the little dent in the Venetian blinds I see a light on in the house across the street from me. Slowly walking over to the window I peak out the small dent and look across the street.

All I can see is the silhouette of a skinny man with a shotgun in hand standing at the window. Almost like he’s staring out the window….

Suddenly he slides out of view and the light goes out, but I stay looking and I get an uneasy feeling. It’s like he’s still by the window…hiding in the shadows…watching….waiting….

I scared myself by doing this, so I backed away from the window and decided to lay down. Listening to my heart thump in my ears as I focused on controlling my breathing. My mind was racing because I was so nervous about this town and whether or not I made the right decision…..

I attempted to clear my mind and doze off to sleep. I knew I had a full day of adventures the following day especially since I needed to find a supermarket of some sort here!

The End…. For now

Alright guys I know I’ve been GONE, but it feels good to be back! I hope you enjoyed this part. Can’t wait to start working on part 2 shortly 🤭🖤 we’re at 2,009 followers! I love yall soooo much 🥺

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo imagines #Spotify

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queen-of-deans-booty · 1 month

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Fertility

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey can i request a Dean Winchester x immortal demigoddess wife reader that is the daughter of whatever god or goddess and she is not a hunter just a normal girl that make Dean and Sam immortal with her magic and everyone in the hunting community know her as Dean innocent wife and she don’t cared about that, she is pregnant with Dean baby and know she is walking to the kitchen with Dean shirt and boxer because is comfortable and perfect for her pregnancy belly and him just loved. happy ending with a lot of fluff, kisses, and possible smut.

Summary: You want Dean to meet your mother, the Goddess of fertility, love, beauty, and pleasure. Only problem? She lives in Egypt and Dean hates flying.

Square Filled: Delphinium for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Man, this Bunker really does have everything about everything. This small library has vast knowledge about virtually every single monster there is and has ever been. Some of them are extinct but it’s still good to know about them just in case. You’ve come to learn that anything can happen in the hunting life.

You flip through the pages of a lore book about Egyptian Gods and Goddesses when you come across one that makes your heart soar and a smile spreads across your face. You run your finger delicately down the page and stare at the Goddess trapped inside the book.

“Hi, mom,” you whisper.

Your mother is Hathor, the Egyptian Goddess of fertility, love, beauty, and pleasure. She is the protector of women, and she does a helluva job of it. You’re a demigoddess with only half of her powers, but you’re still like her in so many ways. Not only are you immortal, but you have the power to fight well in any hand-to-hand combat, mental manipulation, and mental torture. Your mother does it a lot better than you can, but you’ve done a good job at practicing over the centuries.

She offered you a place by her side in Egypt where she currently resides but you wanted to see the world and explore it on your own. You wanted to make your own adventures instead of being the shadow in hers. It’s a damn good thing you listened to your gut because you wouldn’t have met Sam and Winchester otherwise.

The first thing you did when you came to the United States was save a woman from being attacked by a man. This man wasn’t to exert his power over her by forcing her into doing things she didn’t want to do, and you put an end to it immediately. She got her revenge just like the thousands of other women you’ve saved from having the same fate. Saving women and torturing men has gotten you this far in life and you don’t plan on stopping, not within the next few centuries, at least.

The biggest thing you gained from your Mother is the power of fertility. You can’t count how many women you’ve come across who want to have children but can’t. They don’t know how it happens, but they wake up one day and realize they’re pregnant. Your powers have only been used for good and you don’t plan on stopping any time soon.

You just love bringing life into the world just like your mom.

The bar was in full swing, and you’re at the bar sipping your drink and watching everyone. You never know when someone is going to need you. There was a couple at the dart boards who were arguing over the point system. You kept an eye on them just in case you might need to jump in.

The bell above the front door rang as two people walked in. The shorter of the two made eye contact with you and it was as if time stopped. Because your mother is the Goddess of Beauty, you’re naturally flawless. Even if you’re not someone’s type, you’re beautiful to them.

“Drinking alone?” he asked when he approached you.

“Not if you sit down and drink with me,” you flirted.

“Sammy, be somewhere else,” the man said and sat next to you. The taller one rolled his eyes and left the bar counter. “I’m Dean.”

“Y/N. Sammy your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Younger or older?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re older. You have that energy about you, which means you’re just my type. I like them older.”

You were not about to tell him that you were centuries older than him.

You and Dean hit it off that night and not because he took you back to his room. That night also was the night you learned they are hunters. You saw the weapons in their bags and made a deduction paired with the fact that he had an Anti-Posession Tattoo on his chest. There was no time beating around the bush so you told both of them who you were, who your mother is, and the fact that you’re immortal. Dean didn’t care so that’s how you started seeing the eldest Winchester.

You’re not a hunter. You have no desire to be a hunter. You just help people where you can but instead of monsters, it’s humans. After a few years of being with them, you made both of them immortal per their request. You don’t make anyone immortal without their consent, and the brothers had plenty of time to think if they wanted this or not. You have the ability to take it away, but the years will catch up to the person immediately. That usually means death.

Still, you’re happy with the family you’ve made and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You close the book on Egyptian Gods and Goddesses before getting up. You place a hand on your swollen belly and pat the area where you know your child can feel it. Once he gets old enough, he’ll be able to choose if he wants to be immortal or not. After he turns eighteen, of course, and you’d do it for him.

You’re wearing one of Dean’s shirts since they are so comfortable so when he sees you enter the kitchen, he grins. He even has your favorite flowers on display on the table. Such a gentleman.

“Damn, just when I think you can’t get more beautiful, you walk in wearing that.”

“Good morning to you, too,” you greet. He kisses you quickly and bends down to kiss your stomach. “I want to take a trip with you.”

“Where?”

“I want you to meet my mother.”

“You want me to meet an Egyptian Goddess?”

“Yeah. She’s really sweet. I think you’d love her, and I know she’d love you.”

“I guess that’ll be okay.”

“We have to fly there. She’s in Egypt, naturally.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he says in a quiet voice.

“Are you sure? I know you hate flying.” He nods without saying anything, and you grab his face so he’s forced to look at you. “I can ask her to come here, but I don’t think she’ll take well to leaving Egypt. She has her own business that she won’t part from.”

“I’ll be okay.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly.

“I’d like to go before I get too pregnant to fly.”

The gears in Dean’s head turn as he thinks of a solution that will benefit you both.

“Why don’t we visit her until after the baby is born? That way she can meet him, too.”

“You just don’t want to fly. You’re pushing this as far as you can, aren’t you?” you chuckle.

“Sweetheart, I can’t help it. They’re dangerous.”

“You’re a big baby, you know that?”

You leave his side and sit down at the kitchen table so he can finish cooking in peace.

“I promise we can go after he is born. I really would love to meet the woman who made you.”

“Maybe afterward, we can meet your mom!” you gasp. “I can get us into Heaven. I know a God.”

“One parent at a time,” Dean chuckles and plates the food.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #spn #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fluff

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sugar-grigri · 8 months

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Crazy theory, but since I don't really read them, I don't know if it's ever been mentioned before.

I've already talked about this urge to discover the demon of death. So much so that fans see them in every new character introduced.

We know that Pochita punctuates both the birth and death of demons with his chainsaws.

I've always been surprised by the way Pochita calmly took hold of Makima, allowing Denji to knowingly save her by recommending that he give her love

Just as I'm surprised by Fami's interest in separating Chainsaw Man just as Yoru is stubbornly intent on revenge

How can these three horsemen of the apocalypse have so much interest and connection with a single demon?

We already know that Fujimoto has opted for the metaphorical, choosing the instrument designed for childbirth: the chainsaw, as the keystone of his story.

Chainsaw Man is intrinsically linked to birth and death

Denji's rebirth alone is linked to death having been cut up as well as Pochita?

Demons are born out of fear of one thing, so I know it might be strange that Pochita, representing chainsaws, represents death and isn't the chainsaw demon.

But two things: firstly, the impostor is actually the real chainsaw demon.

Fujimoto likes to undo our first impressions, so I find it absolutely INCREDIBLE that Denji should be the impostor from the start, the false Chainsaw Man in a part 2 that focuses on identity.

Secondly, how can simple chainsaws have so much power? I mean, sure, they're scary, but how can they have so much power as to be able to wipe out demons? Why should it be the chainsaw demon who's capable of this, and death remains crouched in the shadows?

This would also explain his promiscuity with the other Knights of the Apocalypse.

The demon of control wanted to play with Pochita - death was the only thing she couldn't totally control, the only thing she aspired to be on an equal footing with.

If Pochita understood her so well, it was as the fourth knight of the apocalypse. If Makima considered him her equal, it was because she couldn't control a demon she knew to be of her own rank. The logic follows with Nayuta.

The demon of war doesn't accept death, it accepts to spread it through conflicts and weapons of mass murder, but a general doesn't accept that death can touch him too. To spread death represents victory, to be touched by it a defeat that demands vengeance.

Famine works hand in hand with death, and is feared because suffering and death are the end result of not being able to eat. She's the one with the clearest goal at the moment: to save humanity. She doesn't hesitate to recruit her fellow Apocalypse members, whether it's proposing it to Nayuta, trying to recruit Asa and Yoru, or splitting Chainsaw Man in two to work with the pure state of the death demon.

The public hunters' aim is also to protect mankind from Nostradamus' prophecy, but by paralyzing death's actions as much as possible. They exploit Denji's flaws and desire to be normal to the full, threatening those around him. While the church, represented by Fami, titillates Denji's heroic side, his abnormalities, they want death to act.

It would also explain why everyone close to Denji is disappearing.

All the signs are pointing to Asa's imminent atrocity.

Wouldn't it be incredible to think that it's because death is in Denji's belly ?

Everything would then make sense: it's normal for Denji's development to stagnate, and for him to go through so many existential crises.

He doesn't know his own identity

What's more, it doesn't contradict my most meta theories: Fujimoto places himself in the work through Denji (cf. chapter 133), just as he responds directly to his fans (chapters 136 and 137).

We're all hating him, seeing all our favorite characters meet unfortunate deaths

It would all make sense if the manga we were holding in our hands, "Chainsaw Man", actually referred directly to death right from the start.

It would all make sense if we saw Part 1 as Denji's introduction to the ranks of hunters governed by an early death.

It would make sense for Aki's love for him to be a metaphor for accepting death, in the continuity of mourning.

It would make sense for Power to be reassured by Death when traumatized by the demon of darkness: she died twice for love, and the total disappearance of body and spirit allows us to escape the darkness.

I don't know if this theory holds, but let's agree...

It's poetic

#csm #asa chainsaw man #chainsaw man #csm part 2 #denji #asa #nayuta #fami #makima #yoru #barem #death devil #pochita #theory

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mioakem · 2 months

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Sometimes I remember that nico lost his mother and then was put in a hotel for seventy years and finally get let out and then found out that his dad was a Greek god and he was so excited but then his sister decided to join the hunters of Artemis and he’s happy for her but also scared once he finds out that she’s going on a quest so he makes the cute guy who saved him earlier promise to keep her safe only for him to return after the quest and tell him that his sister had died and then everyone hated him because of who his father was and he realized he was in love with the guy who he blames for his sisters death and hates himself for it and then he goes on a side quest with Percy and brings him to his fathers palace under the impression that hades just wanted to talk with Percy because he said that it he brought Percy to him then he would tell him more about his family but then hades tricks the both of them and imprisons Percy and Nico goes to save him but Percy doesn’t trust him anymore and then he single handedly brought three gods to help with the battle of manhattan only to still not feel welcomed and then he learned that there might be a way to bring back his dead sister only to find out that she had chosen rebirth and then found his other sister and brought her back from the fields of asphodel and then found another camp and started to actually heal and then Percy shows up with no memory and he lies to him and promptly dips and ends up completely alone in Tartarus only to get kidnapped by two giants and get stuffed in a jar with only a limited supply of pomegranates and then when the seven finally come to save him he finds out that most of them didn’t even want to save him and thought it would just be better to leave him in the jar to die and then he had to watch the guy who he’s not rlly in love with anymore fall into Tartarus but not before making him promise to lead a group of people that hate him to the house of hades and he agrees to it and then everyone except for his sister stay away from him because they think he’s creepy and weird until he has to go on a side quest with Jason to retrieve something from Cupid and he is forced to admit that he was gay and in love with Percy to a guy he barely knows let alone trusts and then realizes that no one would hate him because of that and he makes his first actual friend and then he volunteers himself to go on a deadly quest to take a ginormous statue back to camp via shadow travel and he nearly dies from it but he also developed a strong friendship with Reyna along the way and after the war he finally allows himself to be loved by his friends and tells Percy how he used to feel about him and meets Will and is finally happy for the first time in a while and then his boyfriends dad shows up as a mortal but he doesn’t think much of it until one day he feels the same feeling he felt when Bianca died and realized that Jason had died and goes into a deep depression and then Reyna also joined the hunters and everything just sucks again but at least he has Will and people at camp don’t really hate him anymore but then he starts getting plagued with nightmares and it gets so bad to the point where he finally gives in and goes down into Tartarus again but with Will this time and is forced to face his demons but ends up embracing them and freeing his friend and everything is now kind of okay again and he starts kinda developing a friendship with Piper and he’s actually happy but who knows how long that’s gonna last cause he’s been happy before and look where that got him

#and this is just from memory #I don’t remember if he had any intense feelings abt Reyna joining the hunters but I just feel like if he didn’t then he should’ve #I love every member of the seven but I will never forgive some of them for saying they should just leave Nico in the jar #and Percy I love u but u were such an asshole to Nico and I can’t forgive u for that #praying that if we get there they fix Percy and Nico’s relationship in the live action cause wtf was that 🙏#also im sick and tired of ppl in this fandom blaming Nico for everything (looking at u Percy fans)#anyways live laugh love Nico di Angelo #Nico di Angelo #Percy Jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #hoo #heroes of Olympus #toa #trials of Apollo #pjo hoo toa #Jason grace #reyna avila ramirez arellano #will solace #solangelo #Bianca di Angelo #Piper mclean #ricky when i catch you ricky

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cherubispunk · 4 months

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BARK! BITE! BLEED! (PART I) - FWB!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

summary: being without is always easier when you don't know what it is to be 'with'.

a note from Lucy: heyyyy! hows it going? yes...im back with another series. Those of you waiting for cherub, its coming. I promise. hand over my heart and the other on the bible. but words have a funny habit of not wording so...tale please take the humble peace offering of slutty fwb!frankie and please dont bite my fingers off.

playlist | moodboard

wc: 5742 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n, slight noncon voyeurism, thin appartment walls, mentions of cheating, obsessive behaviour, frankie is obsessed and it is very unhealthy, toxic relationships, heavy religious imagry (come on, is this even a surpise when it comes to my writing?), age gap but not bombastic sorry chloe (reader is 21, Frankie is 27) - though not mentioned in this part, graphic smut, could be considered dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (do i need to spell it out to you not to do this?), creampie, biting, its not vore!!!! but there is something inherrently sexual in the themes of metaphorical consumption, softdom!frankie, scratching, gore imagry in the sense of a hunter prey type of thing? More of lu being dell, batshit insane, blurting words onto a google doc and praying ot makes ense when being blasted out into the void.

series m.list | m.list

“At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is merely a bitch. True power lies in those who don't just bare their teeth, but make you bleed when they sink in.”

Frankie was a quiet man. He would always keep to himself. Never usually stuck his nose in anyone's business unless it was for their own good. Stayed in the four walls of his own apartment he rented close to the barracks. He’d made one friend in the entire complex. You. His next-door neighbour. The only thing he knew before prying was your last name on the buzzer out front. From there it was waiting. And watching. Frankie had an obsession with observing you from his kitchen window every time you came home from work at the bar. Stood in the shroud of shadow and sheer curtain. He dug his claws in and clung to each passing conversation in the hallway, or the laundromat down the street whenever coincidence let you pop up there too. Stored each part of you that you trusted him with in his mind for safekeeping. Often caught himself staring at a particular pair of red lace panties whenever you did your laundry.

There was one small, tiny little problem in all of this, however. Lisa. He supposed he should thank her really, because without her, he would have never moved out of the barracks in the hope of starting a life for them. He would have never met you. It was convenient, reasonably priced and he could excuse poor plumbing and heating for the fact it was close enough to his work that he didn't have to wake up any earlier than 5:30. But Lisa…oh, Lisa was Machiavelian. A conniving woman, with her heart set in thick ice, and a cold, unforgiving grip over what was hers. It made him wonder what he saw in her in the first place. Maybe he was blinded to everything but the curve of her face, or the pout of her mouth and the pant of his name as it passed her parted lips. Or there was some morbid fascination he had with her teeth as they bared to his skin and bit down. Tearing him to shreds. Either way, there was something to live for when being ripped apart by her. Something to distract from the sounds of pleasure that seeped through paper thin walls at night. Your pleasure. At the hands of a man he felt nothing compared to and knew nothing about. So he’d roll over and fuck out his frustration on the woman he hated but chose to stay with until she left him for another.

Another day, another ache. Another pain cramping in his lower back as Frankie inched closer to thirty and still no happier. Twenty-seven, a stable-ish job…and what else in life to show for it? He was bitter. In no place to want the company of another unless only for the night. Except tonight he was alone again, pressing his key into the lock, twisting it open, closing the door behind him. And then waiting…listening. Anticipating the drag of his hand south over the plane of his abdomen to under his boxers where he’d tease himself to the sound of you with another man. The pretty whimpers you’d let slip under the weight of another man's skin and bone, and the pleasure flooding the gaps of your synapses.

Only this time there were no cries for more. No whimpers, or moans. No. These sounds were shouts. And anger ignited you as you rampaged through your apartment on the other side of the wall, getting dressed as Mark, the man you’d wasted months on, chased after you in pursuit of your forgiveness.

“Who do you think I am?’ Frankie heard through the wall, pressing his ear to cold plaster with bated breath. Your voice was shrill, seething with the intent to carve into Mark’s skin with an onslaught of verbal mutilation. Have the words mark him with bleeding, weeping shame. “No, really? You think I’d never figure it out, Mark? Am I naïve to you?”

He slipped out of bed with careful stealth: Followed the sound of your voice through the wall, walking with his ear pressed to it before the sound of your front door opening made him jump, stepping back for a second. He blinked, once, twice…then raised his hands to plaster again and leaned closer, ears straining to hear what was now distance shrieking from the hallway outside. Which he followed to his front door. Listening intently behind the wood.

As he held his breath until his lungs burned in his chest, something flared up in Frankie. A desperate, wanting, starving need to swoop in. Be your knight in shining armour. The words were stuck in his throat, and if he wasn’t careful, they would choke him blue. But if he knew even a shred about you, it was that you’d hate that just as much as whatever it was Mark had done to you to have you tossing him out in the early evening. You were a private person. A woman who never appreciated prying ears or eyes. You avoided all his questions about your past whenever he asked. Swerved him off topic and into the hedgerow before he had a chance to blink and realise he had the backhand of whiplash. And if he let it slip once that the walls were thin, there was no telling where your quick mind would jump to next. Frankie never knew why or what made you so guarded. But he imagined one day you bit the hand of god and he stopped feeding you.

Frankie’s heart was thumping to the beat of his anxiety in his throat, making it harder to swallow the lump it formed, clammy palms pressed to the cool wood with the rest of him.

“You’re a sick man!” He heard, followed by a thumping of something being thrown, then a yelp out of Mark as Frankie guessed he was dodging whatever it was you threw his way. Shoes, maybe? Something else? “A coward! So get out. Don't call. Don’t come knocking. And tell your fucking wife!”

A shuffling of ashamed feet. A slam of your front door. Clattering around behind shared walls. Then silence.

It was five minutes of silence. But it felt like the seconds within those intervals were put on the rack and stretched in torture. Five minutes that he should have used to step back from his door but didn't. He just prayed there was more of you to have to himself for a second.

Then the descent of knuckles came beating down on his door. Causing his heart to jolt out in his chest then plummet into his stomach. Twisting his insides into knots that made him sick with intrigue. He took a step back. And a breath. Then waited a second before opening the door to find you stood there in a silly little lace hemmed tank top and sleep shorts. Your hair dishevelled and cheeks flushed. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words stuck to the backs of his teeth and the roof of his mouth like soggy, claggy toffee. So he shut up, grateful you cut him off first.

“We’re having a bonfire. So whatever shit Lisa left here, bring it with you. My door will be open. I’ll be on my balcony.” And you left him with nothing but that. Stomping back down the hall in a flurry of your anger.

Frankie stood there, feet practically glued to the floor, fingers curling in on his palms as his blunt nails pressed into already calloused flesh. And an image of you, teeth bared to him like Lisa’s once were, appeared in his mind. An apparition of hurt, torment and his own vulnerability. But it was too late. His feet moved before his mind could and he was already collecting the things of his ex-girlfriend who had wronged him time and time again, stuffing them into his arms in a bundle of broken memory, anguish and lingering hurt.

He found you standing by a metal bin of a man's belongings. The odd t-shirt, pictures of your face next to his, smiles happy and bright with the joy of a relationship you never expected to cave in. In your hand was a packet of cigarettes you'd told him in the passing of a hallway’s conversation that you’d quit, but evidently not. And a crumpled, misshapen box of matches. In the other was a bottle of Whiskey. The brand Mark insisted on liking and you’d bought him for a birthday present. A present he’d never receive because he was as dead to you as the day was long.

“I thought you quit.” He said, trying to start a conversation that hit a dead end pitifully quickly.

“Toss it on.” You mumbled dismissively with a jerk of your head to the pile, eyes glued to Mark’s belongings, washing down your bitter words with an even more bitter swig of drink.

Frankie complied wordlessly from there, dumping the contents of his arms on top of the photos and clothes, stepping back while you poured a generous amount of the liquor on top. A seasoning of fuck you not farewell to the people you’d shared your life with and would thankfully never cross paths with again. He took the bottle from you when you pressed it into his chest, taking a drink and grimacing at the taste. It wasn't smooth. It was almost sour, with a kickback that burned too much to be pleasurable as it passed down the column of his throat in a thick swallow. His thoughts trickled in from there as he read the label and glanced at you. He wanted to get you drunk. Get you to slip up. Let yourself be taken for once.

You both watched, deadfaced, as you struck a match, used it to light a cigarette and then tossed it in the bin as memories curled up under heat. The alcohol setting the blaze up in a satisfying roar of good riddance.

He thought it was a little strange. How you’d come to him. Yes, you were friends. But the type of friend that only ever conversed between life events. In the empty limbo of hallways and laundromats. Not burning things on your balcony in the hope the heat will melt your heart back together, It was a little late for that. Stone doesn’t melt. And the two of you had hearts of set concrete from the turn of events you’d experienced. Encased in the cage of bone that would no longer open to another unless broken in two and forced apart. So you slid down the brick wall, knees bent to your chest while you smoked. The flame flickering a violent xanthous, ochre and scarlet.

He joined you on the floor, passing back the bottle. The two of you side by side, and it only just occurred to Frankie how lonely he was now. But how terrified of intimacy he was. Intimacy of a level deeper than skin/ The both of you wordless, silent as the decaying dead of night. Only the crackle of fire between you and a sniff for your nose as the evening air nipped it and made it run. So to distract yourself, you condemned your tongue to bad liquor, chasing it with a drag of your cigarette and a grimace,

“God, this is shit.” You scoffed.

“Not a hard liquor gal?” He chuckled, turning his head to glance at you out the corner of his eyes before the flame had his eyes attention again.

“More of a wine person, really. But even I can tell this is shit.” And you gestured to the bottle in your hand, reading over the label and sighing.

“Yeah,” he sighed, inflicting another taste upon himself when he took it out of your grasp. “It is.”

Silence again. Not awkward for you who preferred your own company to others, but for him, who had been watching you begging for an in, it was clawing at his insides like a starved animal would at the walls of its enclosure.

“So…” He drew out, and you had to bite back an amused smile.

“What?”

Frankie found himself staring in trance at your side profile, with the same fascination you honed in on the flickering flame. He thought in silence for a second. Asking himself the same question.

"How long did you date Mark for?" He asked. The name made him grimace as if it tasted sour in his mouth. Like he had to spit it out with disgust in every syllable for fear of it burning.

"Six months." Another awkward, off beat pause followed as he nodded. Then asked again.

“Did you love him?”

"No." You said flat out. But your words were honest and brutal to the man you let in then kicked out.

Frankie found himself suffocating a sigh of relief in his own ribs. They pinched slightly with an attempt of something profound to be felt. Like a child who had stumbled upon a strangely twisted shell at the beach. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

You turned to him, tilting your head. But Frankie couldn't tell if it was annoyance or respect for the bravery he had on asking you such personal questions. "What is this? Keeping Up With The Kardashians?"He held up his hands in quick defence, backing down.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

"There isn't anything to know except for the fact I'm pissed off." You muttered. “And I figured you would be too, considering the argument I heard a couple nights ago through the wall of my kitchen."

Frankie felt his face go pale, then heat up in the apples of his cheeks. "Oh. So you heard that?" The way your cigarette smouldered as you spoke was the only movement on the narrow balcony. So you did know the walls were thin. It made him wonder what else you knew. If you knew how he strained to listen through plaster and drywall each night.

"Oh, I heard it alright.” You smirked, finding sick pleasure in the way he seemed to squirm. “Something about Lisa finding you...'dull behind the eyes'." Frankie watched as you rolled your eyes and doubled back on your standing in the argument, "If you're going to insult someone, at least be creative about it. ``Give them a good reason to cut it loose." You were like a pendulum to him. But one that spun in clockwise, then anticlockwise circles, instead of oscillating back and forth. Unpredictable in a way that both horrified and intrigued him.

"Dull?" He had to laugh in disbelief, "I am not dull."

You smiled to yourself at that, leaning your head back against the brickwork. Ready to shatter his lie with a flick of your sharp tongue. "You are dull, Frankie. You get up. Go to work. Come back. You do your laundry every Sunday— and I know that because so do I. Your car is always in the exact same spot next to mine. Without fail. Now, you can put all down to ‘strict military regime’, but the bitter truth is," You looked him in the eye, your cig hanging from your lips as you showed him the satisfied grin pulling at your mouth, "you are dull. We all are. We work, we grind, we cry because we work. You ache to the marrow and you get stabbed in the back. And you're begging on your damn knees to bite the hand that feeds you. But if you do, then you starve.”

Frankie had never had his own fear served to him by such a beautiful devil before. And he wished, with all he had left in him that Lisa hadn’t taken or ruined, that you were wrong. It made him want to cave into himself to protect what little he had left. Snarl like a wounded bitch as he held back from others to lick his wounds. Maybe offer it to you and beg you to take it off his hands. But how could he argue when you were practically holding up a mirror to his own eyes? "I hate that you're right." He said in solemn downcast bereavement. And watched the cloud of smoke float silently in front of your face to obscure the very mouth that let him have it in such careful, exact slicing words. The blade of your knife was sharpened to a paper thin point. Now stained with his body’s red.

"There are very few things I'm wrong about. Regardless of that, it's a simple formula and easy to understand.”

“And what is it?” He asked, but regretted it for he knew his heart might not be able to take much more. Not that he showed it. This whole exchange his brow hadn’t folded into a single crease.

“Two things in life are certain: Death. And taxes. You work to pay your taxes, and you die from working."

"That's a pretty pessimistic way of looking at things."

"Life is pessimistic." You shot back with amusement, intently staring in a fixed trance at the pile of burning memories. The last warmth it offered was metaphorically and literally its own destruction. Irony, as Frankie pointed out to himself in his crawling mind. "It crucifies you, and burns you...until you curl in on yourself at the corners and turn to ash."

The conversation had reached a level of solemnity he hadn’t expected, but he’d be a liar if he didn't admit to sinking his claws in yet again. His teeth might come next if you gave him the sweet chance.

You were quiet after that. Both of you were. The remnants of a fire that symbolised how Mark was no longer relevant in your life, and neither Lisa in his. If he thought Lisa was machiavellian, the word had new meaning now. But like with her, it drew him in and snared him into blissful trance. It was the type of blind faith you pin to a deity in the sky. The type that you never see but are forced and gaslit into believing because it's shoved down your throat from a young age. You were not his savour. He knew that in the pit of his very existence, the eye of the storm in his gut.

He would be crucified by you.

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

"Aw." You pouted in mock appreciation, pressing a hand to your chest. "Thank you."

Frankie afforded himself the pleasure of laughing at that. As cynical as it all was, it was real. You had just dared to say the quiet hushed parts out loud for him to digest. Though he felt like he was choking on it more than swallowing it. Regardless, he pushed it down to find confidence in himself and prod further.

“You keep doing that.”

“What?” “That.” Frankie pointed to all of you with a gesture absent of any direction, as if it was obvious. He watched as you tilted your head and scrunched your face a little. That crease in your brow…how it would haunt him in future. He felt like the prey. He was torn between wanting you to hunt him slowly so he could feel something at your hand, agony or not. Or asking you to do it quickly so he doesn't have to pursue through the bitter aftertaste.

“I’m not following.”

“You do this thing…where you turn conversations on their head. I feel like I'm getting whiplash.” He forced out a chuckle to make it seem like he was playing through with humour. But his words were genuine under the lace disguise of jest. You really did confuse him. You had his string of thought in knots. Complicated ones. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed at the question. “You’re trying to figure me out.”

“Why shouldn’t i?”

"Because I'm not the distraction you need." You bit, almost like a warning. And Frankie would have listened if he wasn't so hellbent on breaking in. No matter how hostile, how feral, he'd take the time to tame the caged, battered, abused animal.

“Maybe not.” He agreed, twisting his upper body to face you. It’s important to understand that what Frankie felt wasn’t love. At least, not how he’d experienced it in the past. This was an infatuation birthed by the fruit of lust forbidden to act upon until now. “But you’re the one I want.” With those words came a darkness in his eyes. The kind that reminded you of floods and tempests in biblical art. You were that tempest, with swollen grey clouds and a hammering of thunder ringing in his ears. Laughing as you crashed him onto rocks while he swam helplessly with little energy to the shore. Only to be shoved back with another crushing wave that cut through flesh and met bone with a chill like ice. “Just because we’re sad and miserable, doesn’t mean we have to give up a good time.” His instincts were buried before. Rolling in their grave at the chance to touch you. So he pressed his palms to the lid of the coffin and pushed. Reaching out to trace a delicate line along the angle of your jaw. His eyes were drawn to the soft plush of your lips and how they parted ever so slightly. “I want a distraction, baby.”

He had you where he wanted you. And the liquor mixing thick with your blood had inhibition slipping through your fingers. His breath was hot on your lips. Needy to be paid attention to.

“Would it be worth my while?” You challenged, ignoring eye contact for now. Instead looking to his lips for the lies.

“You don’t think I could satisfy you?” He smirked, lifting your chin with a single thick finger curled underneath and the pad of his thumb swiping slowly over your bottom lip. “I’ll do better than anyone else could.”

“Sounds like an awful lot of confidence you have there. At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is just a bitch.”

Frankie chuckled at that. A deep rumble that rattled the bones that protect the hollow hole in his chest. “Come on…let me have a taste.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He took the silence and the glimmer of ‘i dare you’ in your eyes, pressing his lips to yours to consume you. Devour you whole. They took their time in sinking together and suctioning your lower lip into his mouth. Then his tongue dared to venture forward past parted lips to lick into your mouth and taste the backs of your teeth.

First, you let go of trepidation to take a hold of him. The roots of his hair and the back of his neck, fingers curled like talons. After, you let go of all else. The thoughts scratching the back of your skull, the headache that blistered before by the inferno calmed down and you were forced to focus on him alone as he took a handful of your hips and lifted you up to his lap to roll into him like a steady tide.

You pulled him by the collar of his shirt to your room, clothes left in a scattered flurry along the way. Breadcrumbs to pick up later and either regret or laugh at. He unhinged your jaw to let slip your airy moan as his hands travelled south to meet the seam of your cunt. All else fell into place when he circled your clit with two fingers to start the first loop of the knot in your belly. A warmup for the act of sin, and need, and wanting. Whatever god there was should have never been prayed to in the first place. And Frankie knew it now that he was damned to hell from the first parting of your thighs for his wandering hand. His teeth were ready for sinking as he gathered your legs and hooked them over his shoulders to walk open mouthed, spit decorated kisses down the trunk of your navel. Pressing his nose into your mound. The must of your cunt making his eyes light up as he stared at the bob of your throat when you swallowed sharply. Head rolled back to the pillow. His tongue glided into your folds for the first lick. Making a hot wet stripe of a path from your asshole to your clit. He used the tip of his tongue to circle it and glide lover to curl into your quivering hole. Drawing out the taste. The beckoning gesture of his tongue gathering your taste in his senses. A thumb following suit to roll the bud of your clit under it, his nose clumsy as it bumped into it too. Obsessing over the tang of your arousal, thick in shine over his lips the scruff of his chin.

Your thighs clamped over his ears that were red. The heat made your own skin burn. Dark curls of his hair whispering against their insides as he continued to devour you from the seam. And your orgasm– it burned bright after the first fizzle. Made your eyes scrunch closed as he pulled it from you with hand and tongue. What was used for his words had yours spilling from parted lips like a puppet. A vessel for him to carry pleasure through. It had you toppling over into oblivion. The abyss.

With bones brittle and hollowed like a bird you were fine to be dead weight as he ascended your body again. Folding you in half with your legs still bent over his shoulders. He traced the jut of your collarbone with the blunt edges of his teeth. How he wished they’d be sharp to sink deeper. But you were grateful as it would be easier for him to not draw blood and see the inside of you ran red like all the others. It was easy to not be human. It was easy to not show emotion and weakness.

“Feel that?’ he panted against your goosebump pebbled skin, and you nodded. You did. It was the promise to feel desired and not broken. And not maimed beyond repair by another person you let in. Another person you built yourself up to prepare to love, to only have the rug pulled from under your feet and the brickwork clatter to the ground. It was the same promise to him. And the desire that ran thick in his blood made his pulse thrum heavy under its weight. Its intrusion hot under his lust scorched skin.

“Yeah.”

“Imma make it go away for you, baby.” he promised with a kiss to the hollow of your throat below its column, between your clavicle. And it was anything but empty. It was full. And round, and swollen with something deeper in his ribs that ached to be let loose. Breathed to fill you too. “I’ll make it all go away.”

His hips pressed flush to yours and the drag of neatly groomed hair sent a shockwave through your clit and up your rattling spine. Vertebrae by vertebrae. Setting off blazing fireworks in your mind for just a second before he started a slow drag. It was a stretch that stung. But pain was comfort if it had pleasure hot on its heels like an obedient dog. Ironic how you feared men like him, who seemed so eager to please and let themselves in uninvited. But you took it willingly this time because you needed to forget for a single second about the heart that bled under flesh and bone in the cage of your ribs.

His cock was thick, full and curved up into the part of you that you couldn't have reached even if you tried. He slotted into your heat like he was meant to stay there. And that alone made you want to scream for him to give in and not relent so you could be ignorant to the way it seemed divine. The roll of his hips kicked up in pace and soon he was hunched over you. Strong arms rippled with muscle from brutal training since the age of eighteen bracing himself on either side of your head. The feeling of him curling his hips into you made you burn. It sent a tumble of a moan from your lips through the breathless pant of his name. A name he never thought you'd call in the tangle of your sheets. But the burning need to give you what he had wanted all this time ate at him. It ripped the flesh fresh off his bone and left him bleeding into you.

Frankie’s eyes misted over when the chain that hung from his neck slipped over your chin and you bought the metal of his dog tags between your teeth. Biting down. It feels better biting down anyway. And the cool of the metal on your hot tongue made your head swim. Looking him in his eyes and daring him deeper. So his lips pressed into a firm line, and your nails raked down his back to leave raised red lines in their wake. Tracing new paths over the old map of scar tissue. Marking new land and territory. The air between you hung heavy with the heat of exhales. And blew with the shared moan you indulged in when it coiled in your belly. The cradle of your hips accommodated his cock as it stretched the tightness of your walls. Your slick arousal giving way to fluidity of otherwise rabid motion. Starving.

When on his tongue, you were alive. Inside you he breathed again with the clutch of your cunt around him. Warm and beating, and thrumming quickly like a hummingbird's wings. A squatter temporarily camped up in the crack between two ribs. Where thick muscle shuddered with breath. You believed something in you was worth loving. But you also knew for it to be found you'd have to be flayed alive.

The crash of his hips into yours aided in the symphony of sex, and filled the four walls painted but void of personal belongings. If he were on the other side of them he'd be jealous. But now he was here, he was alive. Beating hearted and thriving. And any god, saint, angel or divinity could watch and weep as he finally had what he wanted. What he might have needed in order to restore his humanity that lay dormant for so long. He was trying to crack you open so he could lick up what lay inside you. Gather it up in his arms like the greedy wolf, lambs gore, blood and flesh, between fangs of his lower jaw. Have the muscle pulsing between his teeth. But he wouldn't. So for now he'd settle for the flesh on show. The mound of your panting breast that he pressed into his open mouth. The flat of his tongue pressing greedily to your nipple. Before his lips pinched together and pulled the left pert. Switching to do the same for the right. Not leaving an inch of you untouched. Because he had his chance now. And who knew when he'd get another. So he relished in what he was spared and he would take it with him to the grave. Dream of it on his deathbed if this killed him. Or if something else did. Regardless. This would run through his mind until his last heavy and troubled breath.

“That's it.” he murmured into your breast. “Take it. Take it, baby. Take me..”

Your back arched, strung tight like a bow ready to fire. Spine curled up into the heat of his mouth and he bit down again on the swell of your breast. Wanting to take its entire weight into his mouth and have it rot and smear into his tongue. The fizzle of nerve endings reached the tips of your curling toes. The heels of your feet digging into the planes of his scapula to press him closer in the burning of your young orgasm.

“Come on. Let me see you come.” Frankie demanded in a breathless growl as he stared you down with his eyes. The hue of his irises almost devoured by black of pupil. Your jaw unhinged to let rip a silent scream. Feeling that sharp coil snap, and a numbness fill your aching core before your toes curl in pleasure. He helped you ride it out with his cock fucking into your tight weeping cunt while you sang out his name in a chorus of moans, whimpers and cries. Letting go utterly as a rush filled you, lighting you up like dry kindling under your skin. The pulsating of your walls around his length had his hips faltering for just a moment, twitching within your sopping cunt. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he let out a deep guttural groan, closing in on skin with teeth again. Spilling inside you, the mix of your slick with his cum painting you white like the searing heat of pleasure between you. He leaves the last of his load with you by fucking it deeper. Three, sharp, punctuated thrusts.

He lay flat above you while he awaited the comedown from his catharsis. The tingle down his spine sputtered out in a haze of slowburn afterglow. Eyes closed and face buried into the crook of your perspiring neck. Panting together. Hit tongue forgot for a second to shape your name the way it sounded, but with a sharp inhale, the air surged his mind.

“I suppose this is the part where I leave?” He mumbled, pulling back from your skin. His time had come and ended. The two of you now sat back to the world of hallway and laundromat limbo. He sighed through his nose when you nodded. And he did the same, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Frankie gathered his clothes up, putting them on slowly one by one. Drawing out the ache of being alone again by lingering in your presence.

“Come back tomorrow.” You said. Not asked. He nodded, still facing the door. Then twisted the handle and left an empty space in your apartment where he had once been.

#pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #frankie triple frontier #frankie morales fanfic #bark!bite!bleed!

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kaylatoonz · 24 days

Text

Movie Amy Rose 06

Context:

What if Amy gets introduced through the sonic 06 plot line kinda…

I don’t really remember much from the 06 plot so to save me the headache and to keep this short (hopefully) I’ll highlight some things I would add to a loose adaptation of 06.

Two parter- I may not remember everything from sonic 06 but I do know there was a lot going on so yeah they’re gonna need this movie to be at least two parts

Elise and Amy from another world/planet- so for this story Amy would be Elise's adopted sister. Shortly after the flames of disaster were sealed within Elise, her kingdom had some concerns on how to keep the young princess happy to prevent the destruction that would awake from her tears. Those worries come to an end when a neighboring kingdom presents a pink hedgehog for the princess to keep as a pet. Elise was appalled by the idea, dismissing it entirely, stating that the pink hedgehog will be her little sister instead. Since then pink hedgehog, Amy Rose lives with the princess doing her best to keep Elise happy despite disagreeing with Elise not being allowed to cry. Things are going well with the two sisters until the kingdom is attacked by a known entity that’s after Princess Elise. Having no choice, but to flea the princess and Amy escape to earth to find help and refuge.

Sliver is a time traveler that was tip off by mephiles to hunt down sonic to save his future

No blaze… maybe- depending on if blaze is introduced before or after this story.

Amy is the one to challenge silver ideas- basically those scenes with Silver and Amy bonding and her defending Sonic when silver attacks him. Have Silver question if sonic is the trigger and if it is right to kill one innocent person to save the world.

Time travel shenanigans with silver and shadow

Shadow’s story (plus team dark maybe)

Sonamy no Sonic x Elise- I think everyone can agree that Sonic x Elise was weird and it most definitely be even weirder in live action. So let Elise be Amy’s wing girl while Sonic and Elise are just besties.

Amy is Sonic and Elise therapy hedgehog- Amy would definitely not approve of Sonic and Elise bottling up their negative emotions( even if Elise has a good reason for it) so she would try to help with that.

Amy takes the hit from mephiles instead of Sonic- Amy “dies” in this triggering Elise and Sonic. Elise tears release the flame of disaster while sonic rage and sorrow poisons the chaos emeralds (and himself) with dark energy. This is what mephiles need for his plans. (Don’t worry Amy is saved by the power of sisterly love instead of romantic love and the chaos emeralds).

Maybe super Amy alongside super sonic, shadow, and silver- I know it might be too much to ask but a girl can dream😭

Time reset- Although I hate time reset endings (especially after the troll hunter movie😡) I think it would be neat if they pull a “your name” ending between Sonic and Amy. Despite not remembering each other they find their way back to each other again. And maybe Elise and Amy could have a bittersweet goodbye with the time reset erasing their meeting too.

#amy rose #sonamy #sonic movie 3 #movie amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie 2 #procreate #shadow the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #princess elise #mephiles the dark #dark sonic

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

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Hi! I love your writing and especially your headcanons🥹🫶🏻🥹🫶🏻

Could I request Gur/Monster hunter Tav with Astarion? I feel like it would be a really interesting dynamic, kind of enemies to lovers. It could involve Tav questioning their long-held beliefs about monsters and vampires as they grow closer to Astarion. I don’t know!

Hope you like the idea!🤍🤍🤍

Hi! It took me time to think something coherent about the Gurs and I hope it won't dissapoint you! In this HCs, Tav isn't a "tadfool" - she is a companion in the Astarion Origin Run he picks up in Act 2.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Gur!Tav

You were ordered to get bring to his master.

Once Gandrel failed and, presumably, died, you were ordered to complete the mission.

Of course, Astarion is a monster. He kidnapped the children of your tribe.

But you also question why your clan works for a vampire lord.

How come? Why?

The Gur demand their youth to respect the elders. You are violently beaten for disobedience.

Your people have a unique way of life. They are nomads who couldn't care less about the laws of big cities and small towns.

Laws are for the weak. Only the tradition matters.

And it often means violence.

You find the tadfools in the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They rest in the camp and Astarion is among them.

You can't believe those idiots allowed the vampire to be the leader!

You try to attack him stealthily while he's meditating, but he immediately wakes up and pins you to the ground.

The rest of the camp wakes up and, instead of helping, you they tie you up demanding to say who you are.

You keep telling them Astarion is a monster, he must be brought to his master...

"So, you think I am evil but it's you who work for Cazador? Am I getting this right?"

He tells you his side of the story.

Your ancestors decided Baldur's Gate was their hunting ground. He introduced the law to protect the citizens.

A night assault. Revenge.

The vampire, drinking his blood.

Slavery, tortures.

The miserable destiny of a spawn who can't say "no" to his master.

A mere puppet acting on his master's commands.

Your people - working for the person they were supposed to hate the most.

Hypocrisy.

It shocks you, but the puzzle comes together.

You stay at the party, not knowing what to do.

As the journey goes you see Astarion as someone you couldn't believe he was.

The leader. The fighter.

You constantly quarrel. He sees your people as no more than savages, the wild descendants of the Rashemi.

You prove him otherwise by telling what the Gurs really are.

Your honor, your beliefs, your world, your traditions.

It bewilders Astarion and he spends nights listening to your stories and legends.

And he introduces you to something else - the prospects of living outside the tradition. The chance to see the world from a different angle.

Your love evolves slowly and one night you offer him yourself.

First, your blood.

Then, your body.

When you reach Baldur's Gate, you are approached by the Elders - and you beg them to reconsider the decision to hunt Astarion.

Besides, what if the children are still alive?

You see the despise and hatred in your elders' eyes - your bite mark is visible in the sun.

The fight with Cazador goes hard, and you are at a loss for words, screaming to stop the ritual.

As Astarion collapses on his knees and weeps, you cover him with your cape, assuring he is safe.

Your clan promises they won't hunt Astairion down anymore - he is free to walk those lands.

But you-

You have to choose.

If you stay with the Gurs, you leave Astarion and forget him.

If you choose him, you are no longer a Gur.

Simple as that.

Your society is run on traditions as old as time. Your blood, your clan, and your family must prevail.

Astarion squeezes your hand and you know he will fight for you if necessary.

But you made your choice a long time ago.

You are a Gur. And will always be. The elders can't take this from you.

But if they can't accept you, so be it.

Post-game, Astarion and you become monster hunters and adventurers.

You go hand in hand into the future.

Your human life isn't going to be long - and Astarion is ready to spend with you every day till the death takes you.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids

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the-great-british-blorbo-off · 6 months

Text

Bracket 2: Round 1, Match 1

Propaganda under the cut! Please be aware that some may contain spoilers.

Jonathan Sims:

They are the perfect tragic protagonist, pretty much doomed from the beginning but with a story so gripping you can't help but route for him and feel for him. No spoilers but his gradually developing powers are really cool and his descent is really interesting. Bonus points: he's canonically ace and has dated men and women.

He's asexual. He's biromantic. He's friends with his ex from university who runs a podcast talking about ghosts. He uses skepticism to cope with trauma and the horrors. He was framed for brutal pipe murder by his boss. When it was explained to Melanie, his ex's current girlfriend, she thought he had burnt someone to death with a smoking pipe because it seemed more in character for him. He got stabbed by the manifestation of losing your mind and successfully lied to his coworker about it. Said coworker, Martin, also had a crush on him, and he A) didn't know, and B) hated him, one reason being Martin had accidentally let a dog into the archives. He has severe arachnophobia. Martin doesn't know this for the first couple seasons, and continually tells him why spiders are important for the ecosystem. In season 2, after a woman filled with murderous worms invades the archives and Martin finds the murdered corpse of the Archivist before Jon in the tunnels below the institute, Jon gets incredibly paranoid that one of his assistants killed her. He makes a deal with Basira, a detective, that she'll get him as many of the recorded tapes found by her body to him as she can, and when he explains to Tim that the reason she was looking for him was he's "helping her with the investigation", Tim takes this to mean he and Basira are hooking up. When he first encounters the evil mannequin ringmaster, his first question is why she doesn't sound Russian. His second question is whether she's going to kill him. He was kidnapped by a circus for at least several weeks and forcibly moisturized. He was in a coma for six months after blowing up a wax museum filled with evil clowns, and only woke up because a random end avatar told him to. When he wakes up, he realizes he loves Martin, and finds that Martin has devoted himself to the concept of being lonely to protect the rest of the Archives employees. He was manipulated into starting the apocalypse. He went to America for a while, got kidnapped by a pair of monster hunters, and met a dead goth trapped in a book. He made a deal with a guy who steals people's bones to remove 2 of his ribs so he could use one of them to get a werewolf detective out of the coffin dimension of being buried alive. His solution before this was to cut off his finger and use that as his anchor, but it didn't work because he physically could not cut through his finger (it kept healing). He realized a shape shifter had killed and replaced his coworker, and immediately bought an axe to destroy the table it was bound in, which he didn't realize would set it free. He's the Ceaseless Watcher's special little boy. He's the antichrist. During and just before the apocalypse, he repeatedly eviscerates the horrors and villains with his mind. Martin finds this hot. During the apocalypse, when they come across the end avatar who woke him up from his coma, Martin asks Jon to kill him because he's jealous that he got Jon to wake up and Martin didn't. He's been kidnapped at least three times. He accidentally manifests tape recorders everywhere.

he got an archiving job and accidentally became the antichrist and i love him SO MUCH!!

Tormented by The Horrors, is a big grump with an even bigger heart, an asexual icon, what else can I say fhdjdhdj

Sopping wet beast

Laszlo Cravensworth:

An extremely British wife guy who is also a vampire. So British that he hates Britain (average British trait). He claimed once that he was Jack the Ripper. He is a very talented musician and composer, having written many popular songs (although not with the same lyrics). Has a passion for science and experiments on people for fun. Ultimate blorbo because he's mostly silly but has a fascination with humanity that drives lots of his actions (music, science, the friends he makes, etc.) which is very special to me.

Feel free to add your own in the tags!

#britpoll #poll #tournament #uk #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #laszlo cravensworth #what we do in the shadows #bracket 2

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girls-alias · 4 months

Text

Biker Chick - Dean Winchester P1

Title: Biker Chick - Dean Winchester Part 1

Words: 3,035

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader

TW: Strong language, sexual hinting, violence.

Third-person POV:

There she is again, like a shadow figure. Appearing when Dean least expects it but it's something he welcomes. Over the last few years, they would coincidentally be in the same places, in the hunter bar, on the same case and if Dean was really lucky, they were in close enough proximity to each other that it wouldn't be weird for him to talk to her.

When Dean first began noticing her, he was suspicious. After a few too many times seeing her, he finally stormed over to her. He assessed her, half-sizing her up. Like usual she was dressed in baggy clothing. He wasn't sure of her size as she always had on baggy combat pants, comfortable and stylish. Her tops were usually thin but oversized jumpers or jackets hid her figure. She noticed him early on. Her tongue pressed to her cheek looking annoyed as she turned her whole body to face him. He hesitated in front of her. Losing his nerve her eyes glared at him. She scoffed slightly, looking him up and down before giving him a bitch face.

"Can I help you with something or are you just going to stand there gawking at me?" She asked forcefully. Her eyebrows raised slightly as she almost grimaced at the sight of him. Dean had never had a reaction like this from a woman. He was used to women falling for him instantly, swooning if his eyes met there's and yet she stood there glaring at him as he was mesmerised.

"I keep seeing you," He started, the nerve to continue leaving him as she chuckled dryly, a lack of humour on her features.

"Lucky for you, unlucky for me," She explained before walking away. To say he was hooked was an understatement.

There was a while before he saw her again, slowly building up a rapport with her. Smiling when he would see her. She would start with scowls and eye rolls but now he's met with suspicious glances, it was surely an improvement in his eyes. He quickly established she was a hunter. The first time he saw her in hunter bar he was too excited to think. He walked straight up to her, somehow expecting her to smile at his presence. That is not how it played out. She didn't even look at him as he approached, she simply punched him in the dick as he got close. He grunted, stumbling back a few feet, holding himself as the air escaped his lungs. Sam had laughed hysterically, bending over, he laughed so hard. He stopped laughing when she glared at him.

"Keep laughing and you're next," She stated simply. He was quick to close his mouth. Dean stumbled back to his feet, attempting to gather the strength to talk to her once again but she slammed her empty glass on the bar top and walked out. Dean followed her out, only now learning she rides a motorbike. Her loose and baggy clothes still hung on her and made him wonder more about her.

Dean should have been scared of her, his instincts should have kicked in at some point and told him to steer clear of her but he was drawn to her. He wasn't sure why. He had seen prettier women, he had no idea what her body was like and she clearly hated him and yet he always stayed hopeful he would see her. Hopeful that one of these times she would see him and greet him, smile at him. He knew it was stupid to hope such obscene things but when she began infecting his dreams he couldn't resist the desires to be around her even if he never got the chance to live out his dreams of touching, kissing, fucking or even seeing her naked. He craved her like he'd never craved anything before.

Dean headed back to the Impala, bag of food in hand as it was his turn to make the trip out of the bunker for food. Dean soon getting lost in his own mind, driving on autopilot as he wondered about the woman who was a complete mystery to him. He often wondered if she was a siren, he thought for the longest time she was an angel but Cas was sure it wasn't her. He'd never seen her but he knew. So the only next logical thing was that she was a siren, a temptress to Dean. It didn't add up as he figured she would have done something to him by now but alas he didn't even know her name.

Dean slammed on the brakes as the car in front of him, halted to a harsh stop. Dean's heart races, his hand instinctively catching the food as it slid forward in the seat, threatening to fall and spill all over the car. Dean was filled with anger, annoyance and most of all confusion as he watched the driver from the car in front of him get out. Looking at Dean in a fury. Dean grabbed his gun, tucking it into the waistband of his pants as he climbed out of the car.

"Are you fucking blind?!" The man shouted angrily as he approached Dean. Dean was confused, quickly wondering what could have happened to make the guy so angry, he wondered if his attention was so much on the mysterious woman that he actually did something wrong. "You fucking idiot, you're going to stand there gawking at me. Are you fucking stupid?" The guy shouted. Dean was stunned slightly. He knew rage and he was seeing it on this man's face. He was about to argue back when a familiar rev caught his attention. A motorbike rider sped past them, Dean's eyes following the rider as he was slightly convinced it was her. Then again, he thought anyone on a bike was her, call it wishful thinking. Dean was brought back to reality when the angry driver shoved Dean, pushing his shoulders roughly to get his attention. "You're not even fucking listening to me!" The guy shouted but Dean sighed. His annoyance grew and his patience ran thin.

"Look, man. You need to calm down. No one got hurt, let's just drive away," Dean tried to de-escalate things but the guy scoffed.

"Drive away?! You nearly crashed into me," He shouted.

"Hey!" A voice shouted, catching their attention. Dean looked to see his mystery woman approaching the man. She still had her helmet on but was taking her gloves off. Dean quickly assessed her outfit. Leather jacket, white top showing above the jacket and black combat pants and boots. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" She asked, venom on her tongue as she asked him the rhetorical question.

"Oh, your girlfriend here to fight your battles," The guy scoffed but she placed an unloved hand on her hip. Dean watched intently, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he figured the baggy clothing made her look a little bigger but her hand bunched the fabric further than he expected.

"Get in your car and drive away or so help me I will break your nose and you'll have to cry to your mommy to come save you from the side of the road." She instructed, she seemed angry but held it to her chest. She has anger issues that fill her with rage some demons even fear and yet stupid humans think they can tame her.

"Okay, sweetheart," The guy scoffed, rolling his eyes and paying her no mind. She smirked beneath her helmet. Strutting over to him and headbutting him with a force that seemed to echo through the open air. Dean gasped, the noise curdling his stomach, he's not squeamish but it was enough to put him off food for a little while.

"No one calls me sweetheart," She boomed before raising her boot and harshly stomping it down on his kneecap. Dean covered his mouth, wincing as the sound was sure to haunt his nightmares. The man's screams and the cracking of bones sent a chill down Dean's spine but she breathed heavily, anger still plaguing her as the man cried on the floor at her feet. "And no one speaks to Dean like that," She shouted down at him as he tried to cower away from her. Dean was shocked, not only did she somehow know his name but she also defended him. Something completely shocking to him as she had only ever said two sentences to him and within those two sentences, she showed no interest in him. He watched her slightly amazed, slightly guarded. He watched as she strutted away, going behind the Impala.

"Wait," He called after her, following her as she climbed back on her bike which she had parked behind him. She kicked the stand up, holding the bike up with her legs as she put her gloves back on. He couldn't see her through the helmet but he figured she wasn't looking at him but she was. He smiled goofily. She let her lips curl at the sides as she knew he couldn't see her. "I have food in the car, it's safe to say I have been put off eating it but do you want it as a thank you?" He asked, a part of him finding any excuse to talk to her.

"I'll follow you," She stated. He was shocked, blinking repeatedly as he expected some backhand remark and for her to leave again.

"Really?" He asked, she chuckled. Something he knew would chase away the sounds from the man that would haunt his nightmares.

"Yeah, I'm hungry," She studied him beneath the mask. She was trying this thing that was new to her. It was called opening up to people. She was always independent and trusted no one but found it to be lonely at times. She would go out, looking for some company that didn't repulse her and after a little too long she realised that Dean was the least stomach-churning option. Although she treated him like she would anyone else, she had a soft spot for him. She had learned his name was Dean when he was in the hunter bar. She had guessed it was his name considering the fake badges she had seen him use many times but it was confirmed in the bar when Ellen had greeted him and his brother Sam.

"Okay, follow me," He instructed but winced realising that she had already said she would. He stammered to cover up his awkwardness but she chuckled before her engine roared to a start. Dean gulped, something about the bike roaring between her legs made him breathless. He had never wanted to be an inanimate object before.

Dean climbed into the Impala, checking his surroundings before swerving around to dodge the injured driver who was still crying on the floor, and his car. Dean's breath quickened as he realised she would be in the bunker with him and Sam and he would have to make conversation. He cleared his throat, trying out a few things he could say but nothing sounded good enough for her ears. He worried instantly if the bunker was clean enough if he was dressed well enough, if his hair looked okay and if he smelled good. Things he normally didn't care about but for her, he worried.

The drive to the bunker wasn't long enough for Dean to build up his confidence. He considered taking a detour to buy himself more time but he knew, even if he had eternity he wouldn't have enough time. He parked up the Impala, growing giddy as he heard her bike coming to a stop. He gathered the bag of food before stepping out of the car. He smiled shyly as he looked to see her kicking down the stand and removing her helmet. He expected her to flick her hair around and to look like she was in slow motion but she simply put the helmet on the handles of the bike and climbed off. He would have been a little disappointed if she didn't already look amazing. She took her gloves off as she approached him, her eyes falling on the doors as he watched her intently.

"So, you finally get me alone and you bring me to a bomb shelter," She chuckled, a slight question in her tone. Dean chuckled, finally peeling his eyes away from her.

"You won't be saying that when you go in," He explained, his voice a little weaker than normal as he feared he was making a fool of himself. Like the bunker would have magically disappeared and become a hole in the ground while he was away just to prove a point and make him look stupid in front of her. She chuckled as she began approaching the doors.

"Whatever you say," She chuckled, her hands coming up to her hair to tie it back out of her face as she descended the stairs. Dean followed, watching closely as he admired her neck from behind, he had never thought a neck could be sexual until hers. She waited at the door, looking at Dean expectantly as her hands were busy pulling the scrunchie over her hair. He didn't hesitate to open the door for her. "Thank you," She sent him a smile as she walked in. He gulped, stunned by her beautiful smile and wondering why she didn't smile more. He also enjoyed the look of her hair tied back, it made her face all the more gorgeous in his eyes.

She walked in, looking over the railing in awe as she admired the large room. "Hey, Dean," Sam called absentmindedly as he hunched over a book at the table.

"Hey, I brought -Uhh," Dean suddenly realised that he still didn't know her name.

"Y/N," She added, following as Dean climbed down the stairs. Sam whipped his head in their direction, his first instinct was fear as he had not had a pleasant encounter with her but with a faint smile, she seemed friendly enough. He eyed her carefully as they approached the table. She chuckled as she slightly relished in the fear in his eyes, something she had grown to like over the decades of being a hunter. She took a seat opposite Sam, figuring he was too worried to have her sit next to him. "I'm not going to hit you in the dick if that's what you're worried about," She chuckled, breaking the tension slightly.

"Sorry, I just thought you didn't like us," Sam explained as Dean began producing the food from the bag. He shared it with Sam and Y/N, the thought of food after the fight he had witnessed only made him queasy.

"I don't like anyone, don't take it personally," She shrugged, opening one of the containers and giving Sam a smile before Dean handed her chopsticks. Sam's eyebrows furrowed slightly but decided not to press on the matter. He too began eating, growing suspicious when Dean took a seat beside him, not indulging in food.

"You're not eating?" Sam questioned but a shiver ran down Dean's spine at the thought.

"Nope." Dean grimaced, Sam's eyebrows knitted together as he observed him.

Dean explained their encounter, the man shouting at him and Y/N turning up to fight his corner. Sam had pushed his food away when Dean described the noises his bones had made when breaking but Y/N laughed. Something the guys were horrified by. "You're so girly," She remarked, happily resuming to eat and not seeing why the boys had stopped. Dean admired Y/N when she finished eating, joining her with laughter as she laughed at a story Sam was telling and he wasn't listening to. Dean was surprised when she took her jacket off, not only because it implied she was staying longer but also because she was wearing a white tank top that hugged her body. Dean's eyebrows raised as he was impressed by the sight.

He had figured she was hiding her body because she was ashamed or embarrassed by it but he couldn't see anything she could possibly be embarrassed by. He gulped, remembering that she could look at him any second and catch him staring as he begged his eyes to look away but struggled. Dean finally joined the conversation when she looked at him expectantly, he seemed to snap out of his trance and for a few hours they all talked as if they were friends. She wasn't very talkative but would prompt them with questions to keep them talking. Dean knew she was cunning as he noticed the leading question she asked Sam. He narrowed his eyes at her, realisation suddenly hitting him that they still didn't know anything about her. She smirked at him, knowing that he had figured it out.

"I'm heading to bed, hopefully, I can sleep away my hunger," Sam joked making her laugh. They said goodnight and Dean was fully aware that for the first time ever he was alone with her. She sighed before she cracked her neck, a yawn escaping her lips before she smiled at him.

"I should get going," She commented, smiling softly as she grabbed her jacket.

"No, you can stay here," Dean shrugged but she chuckled as she rose from her seat. She swirled her jacket around to put it on.

"Thanks for the offer but I'm good," She expressed but Dean stood, his nerve quickly finding him.

"I insist, it's late. You're tired, there's rooms here." Dean began and she seemed to study him. "Come on, it'll be an hour before you get to a motel and by then they might not have rooms, just stay," He tempted, a hopeful smile on his lips. She seemed to ponder it.

"It's not an inconvenience?" She asked, her hands hesitating to do the buttons on her jacket.

"No, there's probably a hundred rooms here," Dean chuckled, she smiled softly as she nodded.

"Just one night," She expressed. Dean grinned knowing he would be around her more. He nodded as she sighed. "Don't make me regret this," She commented as she took her jacket off again.

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