#god this thing is a monster. 3.1k

[cloudbattrolls]

Skyfall

Various Parties | Hanhai Cavern

Tuuya hung up on Platar, breathing a sigh of relief that he had agreed to destroy the Ozryel swarms’ eggshells.

It was the only chance they had of destroying them for good - and if anyone could do it, it was him.

They’d miss him, strangely enough. Even if he was a product of all the empire’s wretched discrimination, they still felt he was not entirely a bad man.

They closed their eyes for a moment. They couldn’t afford to delay long. They just wanted to take Kaningard in, one last time.

The distant sounds of scrabbling animals in the cavern. Their daughters, talking and arguing in the room over. The soft fabric on their skin, clothes they had made themself.

Ozryel had to die. Leave. Whichever.

By extension, so did they.

They opened their eyes again.

They began walking to their daughters.

If only they could say goodbye to their other children…but there was no time. Almost two hundred sweeps, so suddenly cut short.

But wasn’t it that way for everyone, in the end?

They’d brought enough death. They ought to face theirs with dignity.

They poked their head into the dining room.

“Hello, my dears…I hate to interrupt, but Uunive, I need you. Something urgent’s come up.”

Their tone and expression must have made it clear how urgent it really was, despite their attempt to sound calm, because their older daughter got up and went with them, no hesitation whatsoever.

Quickly, they took her to another room and explained the situation.

“It will be very dangerous, and I may not return - ” (they internally winced at the half truth) “ - and…”

They trailed off as they noticed the limeblood wordlessly reach out to touch the cave wall, grab a chunk of it with only the strength of her hand, and then crumble it.

“I’m coming with.” Uunive said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

Despite everything, Tuuya couldn’t help a proud but nervous smile from stealing over their face. Their darling girl. So strong and grown-up now.

Grown-up, and about to be alone again.

No. No time for pain. They had to keep moving.

“All right.” They said with a nod. “If you could call Kamala for me, while I gather our weapons…someone has to watch Ailene.”

Their human daughter was still recovering from the loss of her arm. Fortunately, one of their moirails was a docterrorist.

Uunive nodded, and the worm swarm bustled away to review their stock and pack as quickly as possible.

Smoke bombs? Check.

Their laser pistols? Check.

Uunive’s knives? Check.

Superheated blades and a few other emergency items? Check.

They looked at their work outfit, slung on a hanger in their closet, the one they often wore when going on jobs for Chimer.

They’d already altered it once, to accommodate their current body type…and they would alter it one last time, because damn if they would go down without a fight.

As they rolled back their sleeves, white worm tendrils sprung from their arms to work in tandem with their hands, scissors, needles and thread.

A few minutes later, they nodded at the result, satisfied, and changed into it.

Normally they would decry this skimpier style as ridiculous and impractical. For them it was ideal to have more skin to let out tendrils from, and it still covered much of their skeleton and what few organs they had.

With a few swift scissor chops, they cut their hair. Less to get tangled by the other swarms or for them to grab onto.

They’d take along their fireproof armor too. It had certainly saved their skin enough times…and  they’d ask Uunive to use her luck psiionics to enhance their weapons too, just in case.

They could only hope they’d stay intact long enough to find and subdue Ozryel.

Hope, mused Tuuya as they went back to fetch Uunive and go, activating their small spaceship for the first time in ages.

Strange that they should have to give up hope that wasn’t even theirs.

That when they should despair, they instead felt calm.

What was there to worry about anymore?

—

Rivali pursed their lips as they saw a missed call from their old friend. Not an uncommon expression for the jade, but one currently laced with worry along with disapproval.

They tried to call Daudre, hanging up when it went directly to voicemail. Then they tried to call Vannyn.

“Rivali?” Said the worm swarm, surprised. “Ah - I’m a little busy right now, what’s -“

“Daudre called me, but left no message. Do you know anything?” They said curtly, cutting in.

Tuuya sucked in a hesitant breath. “Ozryel, Inshii, and Rhyssa invaded Hanhai cavern. Uunive and I are on our way.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“I’m coming too.” Declared the komondor troll.

“Rivali! I know you’re skilled, but you could di -“

The jade hung up on the undead’s panicked plea.

No one invaded their old home without them doing something about it.

Despite the miseries they had suffered under those narrow-minded old wretches, they were far from the only trolls there.

Daudre, the only friend they’d ever had at home. Ashwat, their lineage-mate, kept away from them for fear they’d be a bad influence on her.

Even the stuffy, rigid matrons who disdained their identity did not deserve to die in such a way.

They had fought Ozryel when she’d been in Tuuya’s body, and they had won.

As they checked their weapons and sent a message to Temasek cavern’s matron superior excusing their sudden absence, Rivali found themself eager for a rematch.

—

A short time later, the ship hovered some distance above the desert cavern’s entrance. Tuuya’s dark gray fingers adjusting and focusing the ship’s sensors to see if the other swarms had been bright enough to leave constructs to guard the entrance.

The answer seemed to be no, the pale sand below undisturbed by anything but the wind.

Still, Tuuya took them down slowly, laser cannons primed to fire. They weren’t keen on doing more collateral damage than they had to, but they also weren’t going to give the other swarms even the smallest chance to get in close.

They were glad of it when a massive wasp construct shot out of the sand, buzzing angrily as it got riddled with melted gaps from a round of white beams. The rest of it dodged and reformed before streaming further upwards.

Tuuya pulled the ship back up, g-forces pressing on the worm swarm and their daughter. They cooled the cannons; now it was time to use nature to their advantage.

They slowed a little, a tactic that would make most opponents suspicious, but Rhyssa hadn’t the brains the mother grub gave an ant. It only made her bear down harder as the small ship drifted into a cloud.

The lingering heat from the cannons caused gentle steam to waft around the vessel, cloaking it even further.

As the construct barreled within range on vast wasp wings, multiple wicked pincers extending from it, Tuuya released a little something they’d had Thrixe make for them.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have much of it. This would use up their whole stock.

The construct began to skitter and scratch against the ship’s windows, causing small cracks to splinter across the glass…and then went limp, helpless, rendered impotent by the fungus specifically engineered to feed on undead biological matter spreading through its tissue.

Tuuya smirked as they slowly took the ship down again, watching the massive white insectoid thing fall to the sand and scatter into pieces, going still as it died.

They landed, and satisfied nothing else would jump out at them, strode past the wreckage and the corpse riddled with gray fungus; fortunately, the substance became inert after it did its work, so neither they or Uunive were at risk.

“I cannot wait for the rest of you to perish.” They said lovingly to the splotched, broken body as they went by, stepping over a large segmented leg.

“I do so hope I’m there to see it.”

—

Hirudo panted as she faced down a room full of white butterflies, even though she didn’t technically need to breathe. If she got out of this, she was swatting every single one she ever saw again.

The fuchsia was covered in cuts, her already ratty lolita dress now basically in shreds, and Joey and Neffie were faring even worse as they stood behind her. One of the rustblood’s pedipalps had partially broken off, and Neffie was limping heavily.

Klirro had never arrived. Who the fuck knew why.

She felt their eyes on her as she hefted her heat gun defensively (it was nearly out of charge), but the swirling swarm didn’t attack.

Instead, it spoke to her.

“It would be a waste to kill you.” said some butterflies, pressed together with rapid constructs to make a faceless voice, but it still didn’t quite sound like a troll speaking. It was rustling and oddly-toned, vibrating at random moments and making some vowels in drawn out or overly clipped ways.

“You proved yourself useful to Rhyssa. She would have you dead for your treachery, but I think otherwise.”

Hirudo laughed sharply and without humor, the sound echoing against the stony cavern walls.

“You think I believe that?” She snarled. “You might be elders, but you turned even on Tuuya when they didn’t do what you wanted. I know what our lives would be like under you; I won’t do that to my coven.”

As she spoke, the leech rainbowdrinker swapped her heat gun for a grenade she pulled the pin from and flung at the ceiling in seconds, then grabbed her coven members and made a break for it.

She knew, as the butterflies dove for her in a massive fluttering of wings, she probably wouldn’t make it.

Either the rocks would get her, or the bugs would.

Maybe she could at least throw the others clear of -

A giant rope - no - a white worm tendril - snaked around her and yanked her to safety with sickening speed, pulling her out of the room in barely more than a second.

Barely conscious from the debris that had pelted her body, the razor proboscises that had freshly cut her skin, Hirudo wiped her face clear of blood and dirt with a shaking head.

She gazed up blearily at her rescuer as she was gently set down, Neffie and Joey tumbling out of her arms onto the rocky floor. They groaned as they slid down, Neffie hissing in pain from her bad leg.

Crashing and crumbling noises came from behind them, and while she felt the breeze of a few butterflies escaping, she could tell many had been crushed. The very floor of the cavern shook from the impact, and she knew it would be felt throughout the whole place.

Tuuya smiled down at her with that needle-filled mouth of theirs, and gave her an ironic salute. Uunive stood next to them wearing a hardened expression, prongs on her horns now, and the seadweller could hardly believe it was the same girl she’d kidnapped mere perigees ago.

Beetles hovered around her, for some reason. What…?

“There are matrons’ bodies in a room not far from here, ones we found already dead.” Said Tuuya with sadness. “Make use of them. Heal. Find Rhyssa and kill her, Inshii too if you can manage it. If my contact has succeeded in rendering the other swarms able to die…we will soon know.”

“What about you?” managed the highblood, coughing between words.

“I?” They said, amused, looking back as they already began to walk away, ragged crimson coat waving as they strode side by side with their daughter.

“I’m here for Ozryel.”

—

After the cacophony of the explosion, it was almost eerily quiet in the cavern. Inshii had fled elsewhere, not hanging around to attack the worm swarm and the lime drinker.

Jade blood lay messily spattered across the ancient sandstone passages Tuuya and Uunive descended quickly, heading for the mother grub - and something of equal value.

“The matriorb…” Tuuya said, picking up a conversation they’d had on the ship. Uunive had mentioned feeling certain that the mother of swarms would try to use it for some terrible purpose.

“I can’t imagine why Ozryel would want it, but who knows? I remember when I got ahold of it…it seems so long ago. At first I worried I might be getting tricked, but no, it was a real one. Real enough to earn you a place here…”

They sighed, looking around at the ravaged cavern.

“I hope there are still jades to save. I hope it dearly.”

“There will be.” Uunive said firmly, her beetles fluttering around her.

“Tutu, think. She invaded this place to do something. Maybe it had to do with me, but that can’t be the only reason. She has to want at least some of them alive.”

Tuuya nodded. They had no idea if that was true, but there was no point in arguing, and all they could do was try.

A dying groan and wail came from the cavern ahead, and both undeads’ eyes widened as they sprinted toward it -

- in time to see Ozryel finish slitting the mother grub’s throat by dragging her claws across the exposed paleness, jade blood gushing out of the vast grayish white carapace. It pooled across the floor, flooding over toward the other two undead.

Tuuya wailed, a wretched noise more beastlike than troll, and Uunive yelled in rage.

Ozryel laughed as her strange wings lifted, bird-shaped yet diaphanous in nature. Of course the wretch had white hair as a troll, and pincers at the edges of her mouth. What a lovely family resemblance to her children.

Green eyes. Solid green, the same color as their own irises.

Tuuya’s hatred suffused their every worm as their insides writhed, the swarm eager to kill.

Not eager to die. Resigned nonetheless.

They lifted their laser pistols and began shooting at the ancient creature as she soared up and away, laughing mockingly as she dodged the daggers and laser fire.

–

Rivali had taken a juvenile roc lusus as transport, quickly rigging it with a saddle and throwing on a helmet paired with goggles.

Not strictly with cavern permission, but Hanhai desert was a suitable enough environment for one to spend some time in. It wasn’t big enough to do any major damage, and the local towns were scattered apart some distance from the cavern.

Besides, this was an emergency. They could apologize, do paperwork, and pay the fines later.

The real challenge had been getting the thing to put them down (mostly) safely, but a few bruises were an incredibly minor price to pay for the speed of travel; though at least Temasek wasn’t too far away.

They primly dusted themself off, the roc promptly ignoring them as it looked about for food.

Much as they longed to rush down into their old home, the komondor troll was wary as they entered the tunnels, ears pricked and eyes open for any wretched bloodsucking insects. At the slightest flash of white, they’d have their heat gun trained on it.

They hoped the creatures weren’t disguising themselves as trolls. They would be more difficult to identify quickly…but why would they bother? Much as Rivali hated to admit it, the lack of guards and no sight or sound of anyone so far probably meant the place was already in their grip.

They heard whimpering, and froze.

They peered around the stone corner.

A few jade wrigglers in gray and black uniforms huddled in a hall, and the oldest couldn’t be more than five sweeps, with the youngest perhaps three.

Above them hovered a small cloud of white wasps, making a low buzz.

Rivali waited, wondering why they hadn’t been attacked, then realized: insect eyes weren’t very good, and the light was low. The only illumination underground from the wasps’ own mild glow and the glass-encased torches on the walls, one of which had been smashed and damaged. They were already clad in their sleek white armor, lightweight to allow freedom of movement, but still offering some protection.

They couldn’t shoot at the swarm fragment right now, not with it so close to the girls.

So they picked up and threw a rock over it, the movement making the wrigglers jump and the wasps rise up in a small, angry funnel, zipping toward them.

Rivali fired.

The heat spread in a burst, melting most of the wasps into white drops dotting the tunnel floor. The few that escaped were dispatched by the flash of their blades, swiping the creatures apart and smearing the last one against the wall with a ringing clang.

The wrigglers huddled together, still scared, though the oldest held a knife in a shaky hand. She stood in front of the others to shield them.

“Wh-who are you?” She said.

“Rivali Tescin.” Said the older jade, not looking at her, already moving on. “Hide somewhere. This will take a bit.”

–

Outside the cavern entrance, one last being had come. Only to witness the curling strands of conflict, not to fight.

Still, she had promised her coven aid. This was not the time when they died.

There would only be two deaths today. She was fairly certain of it.

With red spiral eyes Klirro watched the solitary white butterfly that watched her in turn, and smiled with a mouth full of jagged teeth.

“Inshii.”

Others came to join it, making a throat and voice.

“Klirro.”

“You are not really in this with your whole feeling, are you?” She said gently, lovingly. “You spiral inwards and inwards, not even guarding your sister, letting my coven escape.”

“I assist my mother as she asks.” Said the butterflies in their flat, rustling voice.

“Only as she asks.” Murmured the horrorterror.

Spirals had already started to weave themselves through the tan grains, filling the sand with patterns between the tall, thin undead’s feet. Hot winds blew around and around her, stirring her short hair.

“I ask you, Inshii the butterfly: retreat.”

The butterflies stared at her with their myriad compound eyes, antennae twitching as their wings endlessly beat.

“If I refuse?”

Spirals of twisted, dried organs lashed out at the butterflies, holding them in the air, warping the air so it was solid, angled, like glass, then like liquid, pouring in on each other, physical laws breaking down with spirals of crimson energy.

Klirro laughed. A light, normal laugh, as she held out her open palms under the blaring light of the sun.

“Then you can never refuse a single soul again.”

Inshii, for the first time in millennia, felt fear.

The last of the DeVilles smiled wide, stretching the muscles and bones of the corpse she inhabited.

Yes, Ozryel might be an incarnation of death.

But the second worm had come, and death was due a reckoning.

END

#cloud writes #children of ozryel #etuuya vannyn #uunive semreh #klirro #rivali tescin #inshii #god this thing is a monster. 3.1k #but it had to be

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

Pairing: Rockstar!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings: angst, forgetting an anniversary, feeling like he found someone better than you, fluff at the end

Request by anon: Hey can i request a rockstar Dean where the reader is her girlfriend and he miss them anniversary for some reason and never called the reader to tell her and she go mad and stop talking to him? Happy ending

Summary: Dean is a world-famous musician/singer who is currently on tour. Your five-year anniversary is coming up on a day that he is scheduled to do a show in Japan. What happens when he forgets to call you on this most special day?

Square Filled: celebrity for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

x

The concert isn’t for another hour but there are already so many fans in the stands and on the floor. One of your favorite things about being in a relationship with a famous musician/singer is to meet their fans. Everyone knows you and Dean Winchester are in a relationship since you’re all he talks about whenever he goes for interviews. They’ve seen plenty of videos of you two together, and both your Instagrams are filled with each other. Your lives are private but you love to share him on all of your social media. You’ve gained a lot of followers since announcing your relationship but you don’t mind.

None of the fans are expecting you to show up even though they’re secretly hoping you do. Not every seat on the floor is filled but a lot of them are. Fans from all over the country grab their seats and mingle with each other, gossiping about the latest news about you and Dean. One girl from a small group sees you and visibly freaks so now everyone is looking her way. Once they see you, they get so excited to meet the elusive Y/N.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you grin and give hugs to those who want them.

“Can I take a picture with you?” someone asks.

You pose with as many fans as you can, making friends and complimenting everyone on their outfits.

“I love your dress! You look so cute in it!” you gush to a fan.

“Oh, my God. Thank you! You look amazing!” she grins. “Would it be too much to ask if you can sign this?”

“Me? You want my signature?”

“Of course! You’re amazing!”

“Okay,” you smile and sign whatever she has for you.

You’re not used to people asking for pictures and signatures since you’re not the famous one, but it’s nice to be recognized. You’re with Dean all the time so all of his fans know who you are. Where he’s the breadwinner, you’re the stay-at-home girlfriend who takes care of the plants and pets. You don’t like working so this is a good setup for you two. You two talked over how this was going to work and both came to the compromise that he would make the money. It’s not like he minded. He loves touring, interviews, and making music with his band. Plus, with no job to hold you down, you get to go with him to different countries and see his shows.

Once you’re done on the floor, you head backstage where your boyfriend is. He’s sitting down on the couch tuning his guitar. The opening act is just about to go on stage so he has some time before he needs to go on stage.

“I found her!”

Dean looks up when he hears his brother from across the room.

“There’s my girl,” Dean smiles and puts his guitar down. “I wonder where you went off to.”

“You have the nicest fans,” you grin and sit next to him.

“They’re all women. Of course, they’re nice.”

Dean wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side.

“I don’t know, I know some women are monsters.” Dean only smiles at your comment and kisses you slowly. God, it feels so good to kiss him. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Winchester.”

“You know me. Give me ten minutes and I’m golden.” He pulls away from you with a sly grin. “Are you staying for the whole show?”

“Of course.”

You two relax on the couch as he tunes his guitar. As soon as the opening act is finished, it’s Dean’s turn to get ready for the stage. He and his band make their way under the stage so they can be lifted up onto it. You walk back onto the floor and over to the VIP section where some other celebrities have come to see his show. It’s also amazing to be friends with actual celebrities. You never thought you’d get the chance t be friends with so many of them.

As soon as Dean and his band are lifted onto the stage, the crowd goes wild. Dean is so happy on stage playing his music for people who make what he does possible. The smile on his face says it all, and you scream along with the fans. The entire concert is about two hours including the opening act which is more than enough time for Dean to get through many of his new songs including a few older hits that are played on the radio. He also plays his version of “Simple Man” as an acoustic set which the fans adore.

When the concert is over, you make your way backstage where Dean is celebrating with his brother, his band, and his manager for yet another successful show. Dean sees you enter the room and his eyes light up. He runs over to you, picks you up, and spins you around.

“I’m so proud of you, baby!”

He sets you down and kisses you quickly.

“Let’s go back to the trailer.”

“You have things to do after every show.”

“Not tonight.” He turns to Sam who only nods. He already knows what he is going to ask. “Thanks, Sammy!”

Dean whisks you back to his trailer which is empty. He has his own that he shares with Sammy while there is another one for the rest of the band. It’s a plan they all came up with since you’re usually with Dean and they really don’t want to hear you two on the road. You two stay in for the rest of the night as Dean shows you just how good it feels to be with someone who is good with his hands.

In the morning, you’re the first one up. The curtains next to his bed don’t cover the entire window so the sunlight on your eyes is what woke you up. You turn to face Dean who is still naked from last night’s activities. His cheeks are naturally rosy, his freckles dance across his face, it seems like his long lashes are touching the top of his cheekbones, and his mouth is slightly parted where soft snores come out. You could stay like this forever but you know you have to get back home.

You’re so much in your own head that you don’t see Dean open his eyes to show you his bright green irises. It’s still early so there is no one asking Dean to do things or needing him. It’s just you and Dean and that’s all you ever want. Dean raises his hand to push back the hair that has fallen in front of your eyes, and you grab his hand to run your finger over his calluses. He’s gotten a lot of them from playing guitar but you don’t mind. You like the roughness of his hands against your soft skin.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks in his morning voice.

“How much I love you. How much I wish we could stay like this.”

You lean up and kiss him, not caring that you both have morning breath.

“But?” he chuckles.

“You know me so well,” you smile. “But I can’t stay. I have to get home. Molly and Amber must be missing me so much.”

“Yeah, I know. I can’t keep you all to myself. I’ll be thinking of you, though.”

“Same here. Don’t forget, our anniversary is in a month.”

It’s marked for a day that is the same day as one of his shows in Japan but you have that weekend to do whatever you want together.

“I have it marked in my calendar. I won’t forget.”

Your small bubble of paradise has to end sometime, and when it does, you pack up your things to head back home to Austin, Texas. The flight is long but you’re kind of glad to be back home. Your big protective dogs, Amber and Molly, are happy to see you once you’ve picked them up from your best friend’s house. She is eager to hear stories from your travels so you stay at her house for a couple of hours.

“How was his concerts?” she grins and gives you some coffee.

“Really good. I’ve met so many fans and hung out with so many celebrities. It was insane! I even met Ryan Reynolds and his wife. They were so nice.”

“You bitch. Take me next time,” she jokes, and you both laugh.

“I wish I could be with him every day but I have girlfriend-household duties to take care of. For instance, these two,” you grin and pet both your dogs.

“Your anniversary is coming up, right? Any big plans?” Winona asks.

“I’m planning on flying out to Japan to surprise him the weekend after the date. He’s going to be in concert on the actual date. I’m taking him to a Japanese restaurant we’ve both been wanting to try. He doesn’t know I’m doing this.”

“That’s so exciting! Think he’s gonna do it this year?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. It’s been five years. I know he wants to do it but he might not since he’s in the middle of a tour.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. He might surprise you,” she winks.

The house is a bit lonely without Dean there but you make do for the three weeks. Amber and Molly are certainly glad to be back in their home with you, and you keep the house looking clean and better than ever. You’ll bring the dogs back to Winona when you leave for Japan next week even though you want to bring them with you.

You wake up on the day of your anniversary with a smile on your face. Today marks five years you’ve been with Dean and you’re so excited to spend another year with him. He is two hours ahead of you so when you wake up at eight, you’re shocked you don’t see a message from him. Every time you have a birthday, he’s always messaging you at midnight so he can be the first one to celebrate with you. He’s done the same thing for anniversaries but you don’t have a message this time. He probably spent last night partying with his bandmates so you’re not too concerned about it.

You get up, make breakfast, enjoy it in the sunroom, and do the dishes afterward. It’s a good day to spend outside in the garden or to relax by the pool so you change into your swimsuit and throw a light sundress over it. The day is spent in the sun and tending to the garden with beautiful vegetables growing. You might pick what you can make a hearty dinner later.

However, as the day goes on without a message or call from Dean, you grow worried. He didn’t forget, did he? You debate on calling him or not to see if he’s okay. No, if he forgot then that’s on him. The day turns to night, and you’re scrolling through TikTok for lives from his concert. He seems so happy on stage without a care in the world. Yeah, he forgot about you. Even well after the concert, he still doesn’t text or call you.

You go to bed with tears stains on your cheeks and a heavy heart.

You wake up the next morning and remember why you feel so shitty. Dean never called or texted. He forgot about you. You’re not upset that he forgot to tell you “Happy Anniversary”. It’s the fact that he could forget you. He’s out in different countries with his bandmates and brother, meeting girls in bars and fans on the floor while you’re back at home taking care of the dogs. You’re not with him while he’s out living this fabulous life. You’re pissed that there is a possibility he found someone better than you. You’re pissed at the possibility that he doesn’t love you anymore.

Your last relationship ended horribly and stuck with you even years into your relationship with Dean. He knows your fear of abandonment and he still didn’t call you.

You decide to head over to Winona’s house and hang with her instead of letting the silence sink into your skin. She is more than happy to have you over, and there is already a pot of coffee going when you arrive. She has a bottle of Baileys on the counter that she’ll add to make the coffees more spicy.

You sit at her kitchen island and put your phone on the tabletop. Just as you let go, Dean’s name pops on the screen. You quickly deny the call because you don’t want to hear his voice right now. Winona sees you deny the call and decides to add a bit of extra Bailey’s to your cup.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asks.

“He forgot our anniversary. He didn’t call or text me. I don’t even want to go to Japan anymore.”

“Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

“I don’t care that he forgot. I’ve forgotten some pretty important dates. I’m scared he’s gonna leave me for someone else. He’s out there partying with girls from all over the world.”

“Y/N, that man loves you. So he forgot. Big deal.”

She won’t get it. She doesn’t know the details of your three-year relationship with your ex-boyfriend.

Dean calls you again and this time, you turn your phone off without answering him. Winona is a good friend and she helps you through a lot, but this is something you have to deal with on your own. She won’t understand how you’re feeling because she’s never had her heart broken. She never stays with someone long enough to get her heart broken, and she’s the one who breaks it off. She has flings, which is completely fine, but it doesn’t warrant advice about something she doesn’t know.

You keep your phone off for the rest of the day until you’re about to go to bed. You turn it on to see there are fifty missed calls, over a hundred missed texts, and twenty voicemails. All from Dean. You don’t check the messages or the voicemails but instead, call Sam. He picks up on the first ring and explodes in a panic.

“What the fuck, Y/N! Why haven’t you been answering the phone?”

“Is that Y/N? Let me talk to her,” you hear Dean in the background.

“Don’t put him on. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Listen, Dean is freaking the fuck out. He’s threatening not to do the show until you call him back.”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen. Look, something came up and I won’t be able to make it to Japan.”

“What the hell happened between you two? He has no clue what’s going on.”

That breaks your heart a bit. If he doesn't know then you’re not going to be the one to tell him.

“Nothing. Tell Dean he’s being a fucking idiot and to do the damm show.”

You hang up on Sam and turn your phone off again. You won’t want to hear from either of them, not for a couple of days at least. Dean can party with his friends and fuck all the women he wants to over there. The next couple of days are like this. You only have your phone on when you wake up and go to sleep because you know Dean will try non-stop to call you. You’d rather get cut off from the rest of the world than take Dean’s calls.

Those few days are spent with Winona since being in that big house by yourself isn’t ideal. Everything reminds you of Dean and the memories of being happy. She allowed you to sleep in her guestroom even though you two stayed in her bedroom like you were kids again having a sleepover.

Eventually, you had to get home so you begrudgingly walk up the front porch steps. You unlock the door and step inside. There on the floor are dozens of rose petals all leading to the back bedroom you share with Dean. On both sides of the petals is a line of fake candles to show the path you need to take.

You walk carefully to the bedroom to see a dozen more fake candles and much more rose petals. Standing in the middle of the room wearing his best suit is Dean. He turns to face you with a single rose in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” you gasp and step inside the bedroom. “You’re supposed to be in Japan. You’re supposed to be in concert right now.”

“I am so sorry for forgetting our anniversary.” You look at the ground as the feelings you have come rushing to the surface. “I love you so much. There is no excuse I can give you as to why I didn’t call you that night.”

Before you can say anything, Dean kneels to the ground on one knee. He reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out a small velvet box big enough to fit a ring. He opens his mouth to say something but you hold your hands out to stop him.

“Wait, Dean, are you proposing because you’re sorry or because you want to?” He doesn’t say anything to that which tells you it’s the former. You chuckle and kneel down in front of him so you’re the same height. “Baby, the reason why I was so upset wasn’t because you forgot. We all forget. I was scared you found someone else while you were off being a famous rockstar. I was here and you were there and I thought you forgot because you didn’t love me anymore. I was pissed at you for that.”

Dean sets the rose and ring down to grab your hands.

“Sweetheart, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I wouldn’t be me without you. No one can ever replace you.”

“Are you sure?” you whisper.

“I wouldn’t cancel a show for just anyone,” Dean laughs.

“You canceled a show for me? What about your fans?”

“My fans wouldn’t be my fans without you by my side. You’re the one who pushed me into playing. I owe everything to you.” You lean in and kiss him on his full lips, enjoying that you can do this after so long of being apart. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. “So, that’s a no on the proposal?”

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you whisper and kiss him again.

x

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

[marie-swriting]

A Part Of The Family - Dean Winchester

Masterlist

Summary : You go on your first hunt with your father John and your half-brother Dean, hoping you'll finally be able to prove you're a true Winchester to your father.

Warnings : half-sister!reader, Y/N is 15, John is a shitty father, angst, feeling like you don't belong in the family, killing vampires, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language so tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3.1k

French version

Prompt : PL n°1, n°10 "We could have prevented this"

“What are the rules ?” John asks you with a harsh voice.

“Always be on alert and ready to attack, kill first and ask questions later.” you answer, determined.

“Good, don’t forget you have to cut their head or they’ll still be able to attack. As it’s your first time on the field, you stay close to me or Dean, right ?”

“Yes, sir.”

John hands you a machete before closing the trunk of the Impala. You feel a knot in your stomach as you realise you’re only a few minutes away from the most dangerous moment of your life. Your hands start shaking, you tighten your grip on your weapon, hoping it’ll give you more courage. Rapidly, you look up and see Dean’s eyes on you. He puts a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. You give him a quick smile but the fear can still be read on your face. When you’re finally ready, you start entering the vampire nest.

You’ve been on their trails for a few days now and thanks to your personal researches, you found where they’re hiding. Now, you hope you’ll be able to kill these monsters without making a mistake, you want to show John he did a good thing by taking you out of the foster system after Sam left for University. Indeed, when the younger Winchester decided to leave the family business, John didn’t like being one hunter short so he came to get you, knowing he’ll have your custody easily because your mom died at your birth. Until he’d come to your foster family, you didn’t know your father’s identity, let alone that you had two big brothers. When you met them, an immense amount of joy had filed you, you thought you’d finally belong to a real family. John had said to your foster parents he came to have your custody because he just discovered your existence. He made a beautiful speech to them on the importance of having his daughter in his life. When he had pronounced those words, your heart had burst with love, but reality caught you up quickly when he immediately put an emotional distance between you before starting your hunter training. You knew it wouldn’t be easy but you want to prove to him he can count on you during hunts so you make sure to always give your best. However, John is demanding, you feel like you’ll never meet his expectations and because of the pressure you can make some mistakes. Fortunately, Dean knows to be patient with you, he protects you from John's reprimands.

When you’re in the old building, you’re faced with a heavy silence. It doesn’t feel like there’s any threat on the horizon while you’re getting deeper into the nest. You keep walking discreetly and glancing in every corner until you find some kind of cage with a prisoner inside. With a glance, you recognise Jake, a teenager your age who’s been helping you to find the vampires. He had started searching for them before you arrived ; his sister was one of their victims. Together, you had put your skill to good use, you with your supernatural knowledge and him with his knowledge of the city and its residents. When you see him, you lower your machete and run toward the cage.

“Jake ! My God, you’re okay ? Did they do anything to you ?” you question, examining his body quickly with your eyes.

“You know him, Y/N ?” John interrogates.

“He helped me to find the nest.” you inform before turning back to your friend. “You’re okay, Jake ?”

“I’m fine.”

“We’re getting you out of here, don’t worry.” Dean states while starting to force the lock.

“Kid, do you know where the vampires are ?” John questions with a dry tone.

“No, I just regained consciousness, actually. Thanks.” Jake says when Dean finally frees him.

Jake gets out of his small prison stumbling. You catch him when he’s losing his balance. You’re about to ask him if everything is fine when you see pointy teeth coming out of his gum. Surprised, you don’t have the reflex to lift your machete up. Dean and John are about to intervene when other vampires leave their hiding place. You finally push back Jake, scared but he comes back to you again. You try to fight him with your weapon but Jake breaks your arm, forcing you to drop it. Dean hears your cry of pain and turns his head to you. He sees Jake about to bite you in the neck when Dean runs to you and cuts Jake’s head without a second thought. You’re too stunned from what’s just happened to move.

“Everything okay ?” Dean questions, preoccupied.

“Yes, don’t worry.”

John growls angrily, making yours and Dean’s head turn to him. Dean leaves you to help John. You pick your machete up from the ground and try to at least hurt some vampires. Not able to use your dominant hand, you have even less strength to cut heads. By some miracles, probably due to adrenaline, you cut the head of one blood-drinker. In spite of yourself, you stare at the body and their head, not believing you’re the cause of it. Snapping out of it, you look up and see that most of the vampires are dead. John is handling the Alpha vampire while Dean seems to lose his fight with another monster as he’s struggling to get their fangs away from his neck. You run to him and cut the vampire’s head with all the strength you have. When Dean understands he’s not in danger anymore, he sets his gaze on you, proud to see you were able to save him. You can’t help but smile lightly as you realise that, for a first hunt, you did pretty well. With your valid hand, you help him to stand up while John finally kills the Alpha vampire. You look at John, hoping to see he’s happy or at least relieved to know you and Dean are alive and almost not hurt, beside your broken arm, but it’s an angry John who comes your way.

“What the hell was that ? We got ourselves in an ambush because of your stupidity ! How could you not understand Jake was a vampire when he was helping you ? Don’t tell me you didn’t even think about checking him before telling him everything !”

“He… I…” you stutter, making John even more mad.

“Answer !”

“He told me he was looking for the vampires, too but he didn’t know how to attack them.” you explain, feeling ashamed.

“And you didn’t think it was weird he knew that much ?”

“He said he’d been researching for two months so it seemed normal to me.” you defend yourself and John sighs to contain his anger.

“Damn it, Y/N, that’s unbelievable ! We could have prevented this if you had some common sense !”

“Dad, she’s still learning. It’s okay.” Dean intervenes with a calm voice.

“Not when she puts us in danger ! We could have died and she has a broken arm. She should have done better !”

While listening to John’s reproach, you lower down your head. On second thought, the hunt went worse than you thought. You put your loved ones in danger and you disappointed John. it’s going to be even harder for you to find your place in your little family and you hate yourself for that. John is right, you should have done better.

“We’re all alive and they are all dead. It’s a win.” your brother insists.

“I don’t care if we did well ! She should have thought like a hunter.”, John retorts before taking you by your shoulder with strength, forcing you to look at him with a wince, “You better not do that again, next time, use your head.”

“Yes, sir.”

John sighs, letting go of your shoulder. Dean has a quick peek at you to make sure you’re okay, you give him a quick nod to reassure him, but your glistening eyes don’t convince him.

“Come on,” John starts, “we have to go to the hospital for your arm, we can’t fix it. Another waste of time because of your stupidity.”

“I’m sorry.” you breathe, ready to cry in any second.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t change anything. And get those tears out of your eyes, half Winchester or not, Winchesters don’t cry.”

“Yes, sir.”

Your shoulders drop when you follow John while Dean looks at you with compassion. He knows what it’s like to fight for John’s approval, it’s very rare to gain it, even for him it’s complicated while he does everything John tells him.

In the Impala, John doesn’t say a word, too angry he doesn’t even take a quick glance at you, as for Dean, he wishes he could reassure you, but he doesn’t want to get John more mad. You hold your arm to minimise the pain on the way while you think back to John’s words. Among every thing he reproached you about, his last sentence hurt you the most. Since he came to get you, you know John treats you differently than Dean, he doesn’t see you as a part of the family. Yet, it doesn’t stop you from feeling your heart burst out in pain every time he reminds you of it when he specifies your only Dean’s half-sister or when he refuses you calling him ‘dad’, that one hurts the most.

When you arrive at the hospital, there aren't a lot of people, surprisingly so you just have to wait an hour and a half to be taken in charge of. When your cast is on your arm, you go back to the motel still in silence. You bite your lips, stressed while you’re searching for something to say to rectify your mistakes but you don’t really know John, you ignore what you should say. When you walk through the door of your motel’s bedroom, John points the small kitchen table to you. Reluctant, you walk toward it without a word and sit. Dean starts following you but John orders him to get cleaned up. Knowing it’s not the time to challenge him, Dean obeys. John stays on his feet in front of you, towering you with his height. Instinctively, you look down on your fingers, fidgeting with them until John starts talking.

“I hope you realise what you did was dangerous.”

“Yes, I won’t do it again, promise.”

“You better ! You could have died and so could have your half-brother. At least, you did kill some vampires but apart from that, you ruined this whole hunt ! If you don’t want to go back to your foster family, you better be more useful next time. I don’t need a deadweight but a hunter.” he rumbles.

“I’ll do better next time.” you assure him, determined.

“We’ll see in a few months because with your bullshit, you got yourself a broken arm. You’ll be in charge of the research and when you’ll be able to train again, we’ll get back to it and this time, I’ll be more strict. You need to learn correctly, I can’t have a kid who doesn’t know what she’s doing.” John spats, emphasising on the word ‘kid’, hurting you once more. “Don’t make me regret my decision to get you. And get that sad look out of your face, I can’t waste my time with weak people either.”, he orders and you try to get a grip on yourself, “I’m going to the bar.” he finishes, walking away from you. 

Without a glance, John leaves the room. When you hear the door slam shut, you jump. Tears filling your eyes in an instant. You try to hold them back but the more you blink, the harder it is to prevent them from falling. In spite of yourself, a tear rolls down your cheek. You wipe it away quickly, hoping Dean didn’t see anything because he just got out of the bathroom. You take deep breaths, trying to cool down your emotions. Dean delicately puts a hand on your shoulder and kneels down in front of you. 

“Hey, kid, you’re okay ?”

Contrary to John, the word ‘kid’ in Dean’s mouth seems affectionate. You see in his eyes he’s genuine, but you refuse to show you’re weak for another second. You clear your throat before looking him in the eyes.

“Yeah, just tired of the day. John went to a bar.”

“Just you and me, then ? What do you say about going to the Burger in front of the motel ?” he proposes with a smile.

“I’m not really hungry and I wouldn’t like John to get even more mad because he won’t find us when he’ll get back.”

“He’ll be in that bar for some time, don’t worry, besides, you need to recharge your battery, you did your first hunt !” he states, hoping it’ll cheer you up.

“What a victory it was !” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“You got through it with only a broken arm and it was a vampire nest, I call that a victory. C’mon.”

Dean helps you to stand up from your chair. He puts back on his jacket and takes his wallet before inviting you to leave the motel.

At the Burger place, you almost don’t eat anything. You swallow only some French fries but don’t touch your hamburger while Dean devours everything in a heartbeat. Dean doesn’t start a conversation, guessing you need some silence after everything John told you. Dean knows he wasn’t kind with you the second time he reprimanded you with the small part he was able to hear through the bathroom walls. Furthermore, Dean and you have been knowing each other only for a few months now, he ignores if in this kind of situation, you’d rather talk or stay on your own. Just to be safe, he prefers to stay close to you without being oppressive so that's what he’s currently doing. When he’s finally done with his meal, he asks for a doggy bag for yours and goes to pay. On the way back, you don’t see the Impala, which reassures you because you know you still have some time off before John’s return. Entering the room, you take your stuff and close yourself in the bathroom. When you’re ready to go to sleep, you lay on your bed, your back facing Dean who’s on his own bed watching TV. You try to sleep but John’s words keep haunting your mind. The more you think back about the hunt, the more you realise how naive you were. Mentally, you’re calling yourself names, telling yourself that because of your mistakes you lost what little esteem John had for you. Feeling your tears again, you try to breathe slowly. You can’t cry, especially with Dean next to you. He can’t see how weak you are or you'll go down in his estimation as well and it’s the last thing you want. Despite your tries to be discreet, you sniff, drawing Dean’s attention to you. At first, he doesn’t think too much about it, but when he hears your heavy breath and your sniffing several times, he gets up from his bed and comes to you. He sits down next to you and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. Feeling his presence, you don’t dare to move, waiting for him to scold you.

“Wanna talk about it ?” he questions softly.

“There’s nothing to say.” you state.

“Y/N, I know how his words can affect someone.”

“He’s right, I’ve been stupid, I should have been a better hunter.”

“You’re fifteen and you’re still learning.” Dean retorts, “You were naive, it’s true, but a few months ago, you still thought vampires were some kind of legend from Transylvania, not the reality. You can’t be perfect from the start. You were bound to make mistakes on your first hunt, you can’t be mad at yourself for that. Believe me, I made worse mistakes on my first hunts”, he tries to reassure you but you’re still silent, “Y/N, could you look at me ?”

“No, I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” you refuse, ashamed.

“Why would I think that ?”

“Winchesters don’t cry. Even if I’m not a real one.” you say, repeating John's words.

Dean sighs, trying to find something to say. He hates the way John’s words already got into  your head. He wishes he could reassure you like a big brother should but he’s still facing your back, not wanting to confront him. He knows he shouldn't take it personally but knowing you think he could act like John tightens his heart.

“I know I’m not well placed to say this,” he starts, hesitating, “but you can cry. Before being hunters, we’re humans.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you like I disappointed John.” you whisper, sniffing.

“You’re not gonna disappoint me and as for John, he’ll get over it, you can trust me. When you’ll be fully trained, he’ll see how excellent of a hunter you are.” Dean affirms.

“If he didn’t send me back to my foster family by then.” you add.

“I won’t let that happen.”, your big brother states, determined, “Now that I know I have a little sister, I can assure you you’re stuck with me as long as you decide otherwise.”

“Half-sister.” you correct, John’s voice still echoing in your head.

“In other words, my sister. You’re a part of the family.” Dean insists and you feel a new tear rolling down your cheek.

“Why are you so nice to me ? You didn’t even know I existed six months ago, you have  every right to ignore me.” you question with a trembling voice.

“I just told you, we’re family, I care about you.”

Without responding, you turn around before throwing yourself in his arms. All the tears you’ve been holding back for the past few months finally roll down your cheeks. Feeling your shoulders shaking, Dean holds you closer against him. He strokes your back, inviting you to let all your emotion leave your body. His heart breaks a bit more when he realises how much you’ve been holding back to at least satisfy John a bit. He knows the pain all too well so that night, he makes sure you know he’ll always be there to support you. Your head still hiding in the crook of his neck, you stay in his arms, accepting for the first time the comfort of your big brother.

Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in english #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural #supernatural angst #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister reader #winchester!reader #dean winchest x platonic reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x half sister reader #dean winchester x half-sister!reader #dean winchester x half-sister reader #dean winchester x half sister!reader

[sybaritick]

cal sybaritick's

durgetash fic recs 🔪⚙️

i love durgetash. i love evil/evil power couples. i love the drama and the religious guilt and the self-recognition through the other (derogatory) and the insane definitely-not-safe-sane-and-consensual kink.

for this reason, i have read several hundred durgetash fics on ao3. here is a non-exhaustive list of my favorites!

all of the recs will be marked with pronouns, race, and genitals (when relevant) of the durge for your convenience

An Obedient Butcher, A Beast On A Leash by NeverwinterThistle

durge notes: og/white dragonborn dark urge (my favorite!!), he/him with dick

E / 4.8k / sadism and masochism, choking, frottage and grinding / complete

The room was warm. It smelt strongly of skin; overheated, overcrowded, overscented to hide sweat. Fill for this prompt on the Baldur's Gate kink meme: Gortash and the Durge are lovers, but due to the strict orders of tyranny in all things that Bane requires, Gortash is not allowed to bottom, on pain of retribution or revocation of Chosen status from his god. And, well, maybe Gortash really wants to. What might their sex look like with such a restriction? How do they deal?

this author has done multiple incredibly good durgetash fics but this is definitely one of my favorites. the dynamic and push-and-pull between them is excellent, and you can tell they truly do respect each other in a sense, despite being godawful people. they glory in their empire of blood and that's so much fun. and of course, the kink in this one is delicious... yknow, every time i do fic recs i have the impulse to share things no one needs to know about my personal life for at least a couple of them, but you know what, maybe i can keep it to myself just this once. but the point is the way gortash wants to let durge tear his ass up but can't is incredibly hot, and i particularly like that gortash essentially considers it an outdated religious restriction... that bottoming is not actually indicative of True Submission in the way Banites are told to believe it does.

lose the halo, don't need to resist by @lamortactuallywrites

durge notes: they/them half-orc with dick :)

E / 7.0k words / bondage, orgasm delay/edging, kink negotiation / complete

There is no absolution to be found here. They wonder if their father is watching, if Bane is watching, if they will each know the wrath of their gods before the night is through. Yet somehow, with blood drying tacky on their hand, bruises pressed deep into their flesh, and his mouth hot around them like he was made for this, it feels private. Protected.

i adore the kink negotiation in this. gortash is such a jackass (affectionate)... and once they're in it, durge snapping back like an angry dog, struggling so beautifully, when they're too tied up to really fight back is hot. someone insulting you so desperately because in reality they know they're not the one in control is. extremely hot. like "come on tell me more about what a monster i am while you're tied up begging for me to touch you" ygm??? read the fic it's good.

Mutual Manipulations by fermiparadox

durge notes: he/him drow with dick

E / 3.1k words / hate sex, power dynamics, handjobs / complete

Bloodlust is its own kind of aphrodisiac.

i love the characterization of both Durge and Gortash in this one-- resplendently awful. and considerably less trusting of each other, in a way that's very enjoyable. this is absolutely hate sex, and done very well... Gortash wants to subjugate Durge and keep him on a leash, and Durge wants to murder him violently. beautiful!

Marsember Syrah by say_lene

durge notes: she/her with pussy

E / 5.7k words / dom/sub, [consensual] mind control, power dynamics / complete

After a successful operation in the High House of Wonders, Bhaal's Chosen and Bane's express their admiration for each other. It is, predictably, very tense. “Ah, so you’re concerned for my wellbeing,” he said – calm, even as a thin trickle of blood rolled down his neck. “You needn’t be. Our masters commanded us to cooperate, after all, and in suffering me to live, Bhaal opens the door to veritable rivers of blood. You know him better than I, of course, but surely even the Lord of Murder can see the value of delayed gratification.”

this author has done multiple incredibly good durgetash fics, but this one is my favorite. i love the way they characterize gortash. anyway, normally, being the mind control/brainwashing/hypnosis/etc fetishist i am, i would barely have anything to say about this other than "read this for the mind control descriptions they're so hot that i've read this fic at least four times." (which i have). however not only is that hot but everything else is *also* extremely hot, and well written/well paced. particularly the way gortash "offers" durge lesser banites to kill, and how she enjoys it so, despite not quite wanting to just let him hand-feed her like that yknow... very tasty.

Yank of the Leash by BlueCloverInGreen

durge notes: he/him with dick

E / 28.2k words / dom/sub, grooming, noncon and dubcon / complete

Many, many potential triggers. Please read the tags carefully. I will also post specific tags before each chapter. This is a work in progress and my first project. Critique is welcomed and appreciated. Not beta read.

definitely do mind the trigger tags on this one, as the summary mentions, but it's a great guilty pleasure-- and by guilty i mean you'll feel something for finding it hot considering how dark it is, especially with regards to the grooming aspect. i can read some very gory fics, noncon, heavy kink, etc and not question how into it i am, but this fic?? this fic made me feel guilty and uncomfortable and that's a compliment. it definitely gave me the sense "yeah, Gortash would want it like this"

Knowing by @chocolatecatcupcakecheese

durge notes: they/them

E / 3.4k words / power dynamics, cunnilingus, bondage / complete

“What were we to one another?” Tav asks at last. “We were allies before,” Gortash says. “We—” “Allies?” Tav interrupts, sing-song with insinuation. Gortash takes a slow, steadying breath against the echo of desire. That teasing tone of voice is so damnably familiar. “Yes.” His voice emerges lower than he intends. Tav laughs, a single exhaled note of contempt. Gortash steels himself and does not move away when they step closer, close enough to share the same breath. “Is that all?”

oh hey, gortash is trans in this!! that's definitely a favorite headcanon of mine. and it's totally for story-based reasons only (he's so transhumanist cmon) and not because i am also transmasc and also have several power-hungry techbro sellout things wrong with me. anyway, the way they talk to each other in this is *so* fun... their dynamic-- and their foreplay and dirty talk (which for a normal couple would perhaps not qualify as dirty talk) is great.

ménage à quatre by isolasea

durge notes: second person (you) with pussy

E / 2.9k words / power dynamics, BDSM, dubious consent / complete

Your Urge and his Hand, on each side of your mind and body, pulling you apart. Or, Gortash: [fucks like a tyrannical despot] Durge: [surprised pikachu meme face]

this fic is so much fun for the d/s power kink stuff and it also has some excellent lines wrt gortash's obsession with control. i mean right at the beginning even, “All murder and no play in the Church of Bhaal?” that and gortash trying to put another finger in durge even while he's fucking them and they're barely taking it as it is-- it's so greedy and so very fitting for him.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #durgetash #enver gortash #cal txt #fandom

[peaceteaa11]

Temper, Temper

Oneshot - Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Rating: clean. Some smooch smooch but nothing crazy.

Warnings: There do be some smooches… and not just on the lips. But not like super spicy. I wouldn't even call this spice tbh. Just like... regular relationship shit? It's safe for work.

Summary: Y/N gets jealous when they see Eddie Munson, their boyfriend, talking with Chrissy Cunningham. It also doesn't help that Y/N knows Eddie used to have a crush on Chrissy. And it DEFINITELY doesn't help that Chrissy is being especially touchy with Eddie.

A/N: okay this took me a moment to finish tbh. I started and then my job took over my life and I got to start packing for college again. Which… ya boi hasn’t done shit yet soooooo. Oopsie poopsie. But here is another Eddie Munson one shot! I truly love this man. His eyes… bro. Anyways. Hope you enjoy it. Another part of Love Luna should be out and My Rockstar finale should come soon after that! And tomorrow is my last day of work so hopefully that will free up some of my time until college officially hits! Only proofread once.

Word Count: 3.1k

Alexa, play jealousy, jealousy ^.^

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

You carefully trudge through the dry leaves of the woods looking for your boyfriend, Eddie Munson. He should be in his selling spot making some deals and you have been waiting all day to see him. Lots of things floating around your mind that you are aching to share with him. Your stomach flutters at the thought of his smile. Today has been the worst and you could really use one of his hugs where he pulls you in and squeezes you as if he is afraid you may disappear. As you see the clearing where the picnic table is you see Eddie, but you also see Chrissy Cunningham. Your heart starts to pound out of your chest.

“How could I forget?!” Chrissy giggles and Eddie chuckles crossing his arms over his chest. He shrugs and walks towards the picnic tabling not noticing you at the woods’ edge. Your heart sinking further and further down your body. Heavy in your chest.

“I don’t know, Chrissy, you’re a freak.” He smirks softly and your stomach twists in painful knots. You have always been self-conscious about Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie’s first crush. When you two were just friends he never stopped gushing over her.

'Oh, Chrissy is so pretty.' 'Chrissy, smiled at me.' 'Do you think if I was more handsome she would like me?' 'I know you like me but I want someone to like me like... actually like me. Love me.' 'Chrissy has really pretty eyes.'

God just the thought of all his old comments make you feel queasy. Once you two got together it all stopped, Eddie was caught off guard by your feelings but returned them twice as strong. It was like you were the only one he could see but you have never seen the two of them interact. And this scene is not giving you much confidence in yourself or your relationship. You trust your boyfriend, but the little green monster starts to rear its ugly head by twisting your intestines.

“You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.” Chrissy smiles up at Eddie with stars in her eyes. You can't blame her really, that's how you look at Eddie. But then again maybe you could blame her because that is how you look at Eddie and no one else should be looking at him like you look at him... right? He smiles back at her. Soul-crushing smile.

“What? Mean and scary?” He laughs lightly as he gets ready to take a seat at the picnic table across from Chrissy.

“Yeah…” Chrissy sighs sweetly leaning forward onto her elbows.

“Well, I kinda thought that you’d be kinda mean and scary too.” He grins widely at her.

“Me?” She smiles brightly and you can’t help but feel relaxed by the kindness in her smile. It's hard to hate someone as nice as Chrissy Cunningham, but she makes it easier when she leans across the table closer to a now seated Eddie.

“Terrifying.” He chuckles. They both fall silent and Eddie props his head up on his hand. Chrissy blushes a bit and smiles at Eddie before gently placing her hand on his bat tattoo on his arm. Your skin crawls and your blood heats beneath the surface.

“These are really cool.” She smiles softly tracing the bats on Eddie’s arm.

“Oh… thank you.” He sighs. You watch as he stares at Chrissy intensely while she stares down at his tattoos. You are unsure of what to do. You stand by a big oak tree feeling as if you’re watching your heart get broken before your very eyes.

He’s gonna fall back in love with her. Maybe he never fell out of love. Maybe you're just a distraction from what he really wants. Your mind runs wild with thoughts but the worst and most present one is how angry you are that Chrissy is gently stroking your boyfriend’s arm.

You get ready to storm off back toward the school but when you turn you bump into someone else. Dylan Railes who happens to be one of Eddie’s most frequent buyers.

“Oh shit sorry, babe.” Dylan chuckles grabbing you by the shoulders to stabilize you. Saving you from tumbling back. Your heart sinks at how loud Dylan's voice is. It booms through the woods and there is no doubt that it could be heard a few feet away in the clearing. “You okay?” Dylan questions, his eyes red, obviously high out of his mind. You sigh you hear shuffling from the clearing behind you. Well, fuck you right? Of course, this would happen while you are trying to escape unnoticed.

“My love?” Eddie’s voice is soft and sweet, your stomach twists at the sound. “Were you leaving?” You can hear the confusion in his voice. You turn to face him and see him standing only a few feet away with Chrissy still sitting at the table. You glance between the two of them and Eddie follows your gaze. He looks at Chrissy and back to you with wide, almost guilty eyes.

“She ran right into me, Munson. Someone was obviously in a hurry.” Dylan chuckles oblivious to the tension between Eddie and you. Seriously, was the universe trying to trap you here? All you want to do is run away and let the anger and jealousy and fear subside.

“I am just… I forgot something at school. I’ll catch ya later.” You go to move around Dylan when two hands catch your waist. They turn you around and you are face to face with your boyfriend. He got to you so fast it was seemingly impossible. He looks down at you and frowns.

“I don’t even get a kiss?” He smirks down at you obviously trying to reassure you but your mind is clouded with jealousy. Your eyes glance to Chrissy and back to him. He does the same and shakes his head. “Sweetheart…” he starts and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. His eyes are filled with a pang of soft guilt but you can't feel sorry for him. The pain and confusion in your chest are too much to overlook.

“Don’t. Eddie. I forgot something and I have to go. I’ll see you around.” You sigh and try to pull from his grip but he doesn’t let you.

“Y/n. Stop it. I think I know what’s happening in that beautiful mind of yours and I’m not a fan. This is not what it looks like. I know what you are thinking. I know you. This... she is not... My love, please.” He huffs pulling you flush against him. “Talk to me.”

“Go talk to Chrissy.” You whisper and pull from his grip. You whip around and start to storm toward the school again. Your heart shakes in your chest as he shouts after you. Your mind flurrying with thoughts that you wish you could quiet. You love Eddie with all your heart but does he feel the same? It’s hard to believe that he would choose you over Chrissy Cunningham, she’s literally perfect. And you? You can’t stop all the self-deprecating thoughts from swirling around in your mind.

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"He was practically drooling over her. It's like we're in sophomore year again." You sigh to Nancy as Jonathan whips around a corner. Lucky for you, you were able to avoid Eddie the rest of the day, but usually, he was your ride home so... you had to find other options. You would have gone with Robin and Steve since you are closer but they had work and you didn't feel like being trapped at Family Video all afternoon in your state of mind.

"Maybe..." Nancy pauses to give Jonathan directions to your house. "No, remember it's left here. After all these years of picking the kids up from Max's, you would think you would learn where the trailer park is Jonathan." Nancy giggles as she places a loving hand on Jonathan's shoulder. Your heart warms at the sight of the couple in front of you. The soft heat in your chest only makes you feel worse about the whole situation. You look down at the floor in the back of the car and try to stabilize your breathing. "Anyways," Nancy's voice catches your attention and you look up once again. "Maybe Eddie was just being nice to Chrissy. I mean... do you see the way he looks at you? Practically combusts every time he sees you." Nancy smiles sweetly but you shake your head.

"You don't get it, Nance. He was obsessed with Chrissy. I listened to all his reasons that she was the most perfect girl and how much he wanted her. I thought I would get over it once he expressed how he felt about me, but... the look in his eyes today... hasn't changed much from back then. He still loves her." You sniffle a bit trying to bite back tears and Nancy frowns.

"I think you're underestimating how much Eddie loves you." Nancy's grin is filled with a weak sympathy that makes you feel beyond pathetic.

"Right." You roll your eyes, trying to end the conversation as you stare out the back window.

"Y/n..."

"Ha! Found it! All on my own." Jonathan interrupts proudly as he pulls into the trailer park. As you all roll in your eyes find Eddie's trailer, his van sitting outside where it always is. You feel your stomach drop when the doors swing open and Chrissy follows Eddie into the trailer.

"Oh. I..." Nancy's voice cracks a bit showing she just witnessed the same thing you did.

"Thanks for the ride. Gotta go." You whisper through your wavering voice.

"Wait. Y/n maybe he is-"

"Just drop it." You snap as you open the door to Jonathan's slow-moving car.

"Wait! Let me put it in park-"

You hop out stumbling a bit and rush over to your trailer which sits a few feet away from Eddie's. You storm in letting the front door slam behind you causing your dad to shout from his seat on the couch. You ignore him, storming into your room at the back of the trailer. You flop onto your bed and sigh into the pillows. You wrap your arms around your pillows and squeeze them tightly to your chest.

Rolling over onto your back your eyes find your ceiling. You clutch your pillow tightly as you replay Eddie holding open his trailer door for Chrissy Cunningham. Your heart and mind fight between two very powerful emotions, anger and sorrow. Staring up at the ceiling you let the tears stream down your face silently, trying not to alert your father to your upset state. A few hiccups slip past your lips as the room fades to a fuzzy mess behind salty tears.

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When you wake up the sun has set and your room is covered in shadows. You sit up, eyes sore from the tears, and crust covering your lashes. You rub your eyes and release the pillow that you never stopped clutching. Carefully, you tiptoe out into the hall to see your dad has already left for his night shift. Your heart sinks having no one to comfort you in such a heartbreaking time. You flip on the kitchen light and look out the window over the sink. The lights in Eddie's trailer glow dimly in a yellow haze.

You feel more tears well in your eyes when there is a soft knock on your trailer door. You whip around to face the living room and front door. Slowly, you walk over and unlock the door. Once open you see Eddie standing outside in his pajama pants and an old band shirt. You shake your head and quickly try to close the door but Eddie catches it with the palm of his hand and pushes into your trailer.

"Sweetheart. Please just tell me-"

"Stop calling me that!" You shout which causes Eddie's eyes to widen. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his brows at you. You close the trailer door and make your way back into the kitchen.

"Why are you mad at me? You've never yelled at me. What is wrong?" Eddie huffs and follows you back into the kitchen, frustration obviously finding its home in him. You stare out the window trying to keep your eyes averted from Eddie. Suddenly, you feel his hand on your waist. he turns you around and pins you to the counter, encasing you in his arms. "Look at me, please. My love. Just tell me why you're upset."

"Just leave me alone. I don't want to talk to you or see your stupid face." You growl and he can't help but stare down at you in amusement.

"Oh wow... you're really mad aren't you, darling."

"Eddie stop it. Get out! Just go be with Chrissy! Like we both know you want to!" You scream up at him but he doesn't move or seem phased at all. He simply stares down at you with a knowing smile.

"I knew that's what this was about." He sighs, shaking his head a bit to remove the hair from his face. He meets your eyes and his brows knit together. He is about to speak up again when you cut in. Infuriated and confused by his calmness.

"Shut up! You don't know anything! Get out! Get out of here! You- You- You- arghhhhhh!" you shout and lean your head back.

"Ooooo temper, temper." Eddie chuckles causing you to snap your attention back to him. You glare up at him, confused as to how he can find this so funny. "You're hot when you're angry with me." He smiles sweetly.

"Stop laughing," you bite harshly which only causes him to laugh harder. "Eddie!" You whine more than shout this time.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He mumbles through his laughter. "I just, I never thought you would get so jealous, my love."

"Jealous?!" You scoff slightly. Eddie smirks down at you.

"Honey. Chrissy was only with me to buy weed." He smirks.

"Oh yes, tracing your tattoos like a lovesick puppy sure seemed like buying weed." You watch as Eddie's face falls into a serious frown.

"Okay, okay. That was all her. If anything it made me a bit uncomfortable." he sighs honestly, but you still hold onto the anger inside. You stay silent, glaring up at him. "Honestly, when I was looking at her and she was touching me," you shift at his choice of words and he frowns at how uncomfortable you become, "baby." He coos, he only calls you that when he is trying to comfort you. "When she was... tracing my tattoos, all I could think about his how strange it felt. I didn't like it. I stared at her wishing that she was you. All I could think about was how different your fingers felt, how good your skin feels against mine. I mean, that's my favorite drug." He chuckles and you can't help but let a small smile slip. "Listen. I know how you must feel. I mean, I would be angry too if I saw you with an old crush but really. There is nothing to worry about." He smiles but still, you can't get one thing off your mind.

"If you like me so much better than her, then why was she at your trailer." You watch as Eddie's cheeks go pink and you feel your stomach twist.

"God. I know how that looks and honestly, I'm ashamed that I did it but she wanted some hardcore stuff that I only keep in my room. I- I don't know why I let her in but it seemed weird to just leave her standing outside. Plus I thought you would be there until I heard you got a ride from Byers, which... honestly made me a little... jealous so at the time I didn't really care how you would-"

"Why would you be jealous of Jonathan? He's dating Nancy." You huff confused.

"Why would you be jealous of Chrissy? She's dating Jason." He retorts. Both of you stand silently for a moment before Eddie leans down and hides his face in your neck. "Please forgive me. I was stupid today. I didn't think about how it would look or how it would make you feel. I'm sorry. I love you so much. I never wanna make you feel like that ever again. Please." He whispers into your skin and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Eddie. I…” your voice trails off as Eddie lays a soft kiss on your neck. He smirks against your neck and squeezes his arms around your waist tighter.

“What can I do to show you how truly sorry I am?” He lays another soft kiss at the base of your neck and drags his lips along your shoulder. “How can I prove to you that you’re the only one on my mind? The only one I want.” He drags his lips along your shoulder again back up your neck and smiles into your skin. He leaves a long wet kiss on your neck, lightly sucking at your goosebump riddled skin.

“Eddie. This-This is not going to work I’m still mahaaad-“ your words slur as Eddie bites down on your neck roughly. Lapping his tongue over the bite marks he’s left, he grins. You quickly grab at his hair and he chuckles as he pulls away to look at you. Your pupils blown beyond belief.

“Your temper tantrums are only gonna make me wanna prove myself to you more so.” He chuckles and grips your hips tighter. He pulls away suddenly and looks down at you. His hand quickly cups your chin and he meets your eyes. A goofy grin settles on his lips and it is hard to ignore the warm knot in your stomach. “You’re my Heaven and Earth, malady. I would never do anything to lose you. You have to know that.” His smile turns serious as he searches your eyes for an answer.

Staring up into his big brown doe eyes makes it hard to find anymore anger inside yourself. You honestly began to feel awful for thinking Eddie would ever do anything to hurt you. “I’m sorry.” You mumble and his face twists up in confusion.

“For what? My love? You have nothing to feel sorry for?” His voice is laced in confusion and he leans down resting his forehead on yours. His bangs tickling you. His hand falling back to your hip. His thumbs begin small circles of comfort.

“For getting angry. I don’t know why I yelled at you like that… we never yell at each other.” You can feel tears swelling in your eyes. A lump forming in your throat. Another session of sobs and tears threatening to break through.

“Hey, hey. Don’t be sorry. Don’t cry.” He smiles down at you nudging his nose against you in hopes of making you smile as well. You don’t, still dwelling in embarrassment and shame. “You… you were scared… right?” He questions softly. You nod, moving both of your heads. He chuckles at your response and places a soft chaste kiss on your nose. “Okay. We all yell when we’re scared. I know I do.” He smiles as you crack a small grin. “Come on. Love, you were scared. I would… I would feel the same way if I thought there was even the slightest chance that I could lose you.” He hums, closing his eyes, his lashes kissing your skin.

“You would?” A small sniffle escapes you and his eyes shoot open once again. Eddie smiles down at you and pulls your body flush against his.

“Most definitely. Heaven and Earth remember?" He flashes a cheeky smirk before laying more kisses on your jaw. His lips trailing back to your neck again. Your hands shoot into his brown locks. Gripping tightly, holding him against you. Wanting to feel every part of him just to reaffirm that he is here and he is yours.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Okay here it is, just a classic and shameless jealousy fic with some nice comfort at the end. Is it cheesy and overused? Yes. But. This is fanfic and I will write what makes me happy so... jealous Eddie fic it is. Anyways hope you enjoyed this little blurb.

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Peace and Love, Babes x

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie my beloved #stranger things #eddie munson fluff #fictional crushes #peaceteaaposts #eddie x reader

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Greensleeves Chapter Nine: In A Week

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Wordcount: 3.1k Warnings: Description of a dead body

The party must explore a cave to earn passage through the blighted village on the path to the goblin camp. Shadowheart and Xaph share their opinions on the gods

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Conflict resolution is, admittedly, not one of Xaph’s strong points. Not with people, anyway. Historically, she hasn’t been a smooth talker or a particularly good liar. Luckily for her - and more importantly for Astarion - their companions are surprisingly understanding about there being a vampire amongst their numbers. For now, at least. As long as he stays away from their necks. Shadowheart grabs Xaph’s chin and wrenches her head to the side to examine the bite there, but in doing so breaks the skin and makes it bleed again. Xaph bats the cleric away and presses her thumb to the wound, her other fingers loosely around her neck,

“It’s fine. And now we know, yeah? Breakfast, anyone, before we move on?” she asks. Reluctant, the group disperses to strap on armour or find a place to sit for breakfast. Gale warns Astarion that he would taste simply awful, and Astarion says something quippy and smart that Xaph doesn’t hear but makes Gale laugh. Lae’zel watches with narrowed eyes as Xaph lifts her bloodied thumb to her mouth and licks it clean, but says nothing. Shadowheart digs out their map and sets it on the ground, pinning it down at the corners with rocks. Over sausages - burned black as charcoal for Xaph, Lae’zel wrinkling her nose at the idea of purposefully burning food you intend to eat - the party plot their next move. They haven’t been fortunate this past week. They know where the goblin camp is, or in Wyll’s words they’re pretty damn sure, but there’s a village occupied entirely by goblins in the way. For the last few days, the party has been split in two. Wyll, Gale and Astarion have been negotiating safe passage through the village and to the camp if possible and however uncomfortable Wyll might be with goblins and lying, they’ve almost cracked them. Xaph, Shadowheart and Lae’zel have been scouting the woods around the village in case there’s a way around but they’ve had no such luck. Their one lead is that the goblins have offered them safe passage if the party retrieves something from a cave they’ve marked out on the party map.

“And they won’t say what’s in the cave?” Xaph asks around a mouthful of bread. Table manners had not been a key lesson in her mountain education. Wyll, however, chews his food and drinks his water before he answers,

“No, they just kept saying there was a bird monster, but there’s a lot of things that could be. A strix, for example.”

“A hippogriff.” Gale suggests.

“A cockatrice. Or a boobrie.” Xaph adds.

“Oh, say those again.” Astarion smiles. She doesn’t indulge him, pushing herself up onto her knees to lean forward and see the map better.

“Could be the owlbear that killed that man, the true soul,” Shadowheart points out, though she waves a mocking hand at the phrase true soul, “It’s close enough.”

“You may be right,” Wyll admits after chewing the thought and his breakfast over, “Edowin and his siblings believed in the Absolute. Perhaps they were looking for the same thing the gobbos are.” The derogatory term doesn’t suit his mild-mannered tongue, and Astarion notes the twitch of Xaph’s tail.

“Goblins.” She corrects. Again.

“May I ask,” Wyll starts, “Why you insist on that?”

“It’s belittling,” the sounds of the word pair delightfully with her pointed teeth, “You don’t call me hells-touched, and there are as many tieflings with misguided morals as goblins.”

“I take your point.” Wyll says, but that’s all. 

Their fast is broken, their camp collected and the ashes of their fire scattered. The map indicates that they should go north, so north they go. Xaph puts herself at the back of the pack, bow strung but not drawn. Astarion is badgering Wyll at the head of the party and Gale has once again put himself between Lae’zel and Shadowheart. Their tadpoles curl quietly in their heads, swimming leisurely in time with one another as various members of the party fall in and out of step. The suspected cave is back by the bridge where they’d encountered Raphael, and he’s either teasing Xaph with the smell of sulphur or she’s imagining it.

“Xaph? Take a squint at this?” Wyll asks. The party have reached the mouth of the cave. At Gale’s soft touch at her elbow, Xaph pulls her attention away from the bridge and towards the tracks Wyll is indicating. She crouches and then lets her knees sink into the mud. Mud is good for tracks, they hold the shape well and then bake hard in the sun. These are like bear tracks, but the fingers of the paw are too long.

“Feather.” Lae’zel presents Xaph the thing. It’s the length of her forearm and holds a very distinct pattern, white on one side and striped brown on the other. Xaph swipes the thing under her nose and something undeniably sweet pushes into her nostrils. Owls smell weird.

“Owlbear. Definitely.” Xaph states, sliding the feather into the quiver at her hip.

“Oh, I’m not going in there,” Astarion proclaims, and the entire party turn to look at him, “Owlbears love elves, everyone knows that. We’re disgustingly tempting morsels.”

“Coward.” Shadowheart snorts.

“Alright then, you go and deal with it.” Astarion sits himself on a rock as a secondary statement. He will not be moved.

“An owlbear. It is what I think, isn’t it?” Lae’zel asks, “Not some tongue twister that isn’t what it means?”

“It’s what you think it is,” Xaph tells her, “But I need you to stay out here with Astarion.” Intruding on an owlbear’s space requires delicacy, and Xaph has learned that ‘Lae’zel’ and ‘delicate’ are not words that belong in the same sentence.

“Tchk. You think my sword unworthy of such a foe?”

“We’re not going to kill it,” Xaph tells her, “We go in, we get this trinket, we get out.” 

Lae’zel complains about being left elf-sitting, and Astarion bites back that she’s not exactly his choice of company, but the rest of the party are fairly sure they won’t rip each other’s throats out. The cave is surprisingly dark, sunlight winked out less than twenty feet in. Gale is not quite as sure-footed as the warlock but when he raises a hand to summon some light, he’s beaten by Xaph mumbling fiat lux as she rubs the locket around her neck. Swirling sprites of light dance in a circle above Xaph’s head. The motes burn orange, bright as flames.

“You didn’t say you could do magic.” Gale says, his words echoing even though he whispers. Sure, he’s seen her talk to animals but he’s never been awake early enough to see her perform the ritual every morning and thought she took potions. Xaph smiles at him, and the dancing lights make impressive shadows of her horns,

“My family are descended from the devil Mephistopheles,” she reminds him, “All tieflings of his line have latent arcane abilities. It’s up to the individual whether to pursue it or not and my mother, being a sorceress,” Gale had guessed that much, not just anyone could craft multiple rings of sending, “Encouraged us to pursue it.”

“Lead the way, Sunset Ranger.” Wyll says, indicating more tracks that are on the ground. Xaph moves forward slowly, and the others follow. She keeps her knees bent, just a little, and keeps her hands on her bow. Shadowheart swings her mace back and forth in a preparatory motion. A waterfall splits the rocky chamber of the cave in two, and it flows in the direction of a time-smoothed statue surrounded by glowing purple rocks. They’re too far away to tell who the statue is dedicated to, but if it was Mystra Xaph’s pretty sure the wizard would have something to say. “I’m not a betting man, but I dare say that’s where we’d find our key to the goblin camp.” Wyll whispers.

“You don’t say.” Shadowheart kicks at the corpse of a goblin. The body rolls and intestines spill out of the hole where the mesentery and ribs used to be.

“That’s unpleasant.” Gale’s words are muffled by the hand over his mouth. Xaph looks back at him,

“Not a fan of innards?”

“Not a common thing to come across in libraries.”

“You’re going to want to get used to it.” Shadowheart tells him. She has no reservations with dead bodies, taking the goblin’s pack and searching it for anything useful. Xaph reaches out and pushes the cleric back when she tries to step over the body,

“Wait. Wait…” she moves a hand over the dirt. Gale has to look away when she picks up the intestines to move them, “Ah, shit. Look,” she brings her dancing lights closer and Shadowheart’s braid swings as she leans down to see tracks. Similar to those outside but a fraction of the size. “A cub. She was just trying to protect her cub,” Xaph looks up at Wyll, “She’s going to be very angry.”

“What’s our move?” Wyll asks.

“Stay behind me. Don’t touch your weapons. Let me talk to her.” With each sentence, Xaph turns her gaze on a different companion. She’s met with little resistance, so she stands. She even gives Gale her bow again, leaving herself unarmed. Reluctantly, Shadowheart tucks her mace away. They cross the stream of the waterfall, feet sloshing in the shallow water. There are more bodies on the other side, and the stench of death and rotting meat wrinkles Wyll’s nose. The ground quakes with the impact of, announcing the arrival of the owlbear before she emerges from the shadows. Xaph opens her hands and holds one behind her back to signal that the others should stay back. Not that they were particularly keen on getting any closer to the beast anyway. It’s at least three times the size of the tiefling. She keeps her hands up and open, her tail still. She looks tiny, but she shows not an ounce of fear. The owlbear is covered in feathers, like the one they’d found outside the cave and the claws on its paws are long, their sharpness rivalled by the beak that opens to let out a bone-shaking growl. Xaph is the only one who can interpret the words that underline the sound,

“What’s this? Something weak, something tender…Won’t even have to chew you before I feed you to my son, softmeat.”

Xaph lifts her tail to catch her companion’s attention, and Gale and Wyll follow the direction it points in to see a nest just behind the owlbear. A young cub cowers in the branches of it, curled into a ball next to a huge, smooth egg. Xaph communicates twofold, silently by moving her tail and vocally by mimicking the friendly calls of birds of prey,

“We’re not here to hurt you. The man who attacked you is dead. I wanted to ensure you and your cub were unharmed. I see that you’re injured,” Xaph lifts a hand slowly, slowly, to her head to mirror where the head of a spear is lodged in her eye socket, “Can I help you?”

“It’s a splinter. I’ve gutted bigger threats than you with worse.”

“I understand. We would not have come here if we didn’t have to. If you grant us passage, we can find the artefact we were sent here for and you and your cub will be safe from the goblins. I give you my word, however much you believe that’s worth.”

There are several moments where it looks like the owlbear might still lunge at her. The cub squawks and it doesn’t translate, baby-talk. The wing-like ruffles of feathers on each of the mother’s forelegs calm.

“You may pass. But you make one wrong step, and I’ll rip you to shreds.”

Xaph doesn’t push her luck. She returns to her companions, relays their conversation, and lets Wyll lead them over a pile of rocks that makes way to a clearer path to the statue than trying to follow the waterfall. Shadowheart recognises the deity carved in stone first, with a derisive edge to her voice,

“A Selune statue? In a stinking cave? Hardly a place of honour.”

“Some gods don’t care where you worship, as long as you do it.” Xaph remarks, disregarding the statue in favour of a small gilded chest that shines blue.

“There’s magic at work. Be careful.” Gale warns. Xaph steps to the side to let him inspect the chest more closely, encouraging her lights to dance his way so he can see better. Shadowheart stands with her arms folded and her hip popped to the side, staring at the statue as though she can crumble it through disdain alone. Xaph wouldn’t put it past her. Wyll, on the other hand, is trying to find a way across the gap in the rocks between them and the statue. There’s a book on the ground, warped with moisture. The language inside is inscribed in rune-like shapes, but not one that Xaph can understand.

“Gale?”

“Yes?”

“Book.”

“Ooh,” He leaves the chest to stand behind her, tall enough to read the book over her shoulder, “Celestial.” His eyes stick on the bite mark still visible on her neck before the allure of the runes takes him.

“Celestial?” Xaph echoes as a hand slides under hers and she lets Gale take the book.

“It tells the story of Shar and Selune. Twin gods, forever locked in combat along with their followers.” He explains. He mouths a few of the Celestial words. It’s not a language he’s had much cause to use since-

“Something over here.” Wyll says, loud enough for them to hear but not so loud as to irritate the owlbear mother. He jumps back across the gap, grabbing hold of Xaph when he teeters a little too close to the edge. She’s effectively reacquainted herself with being touched, as she must when joining a group after travelling alone for a period, and it’s second nature to catch him. A piece of parchment is clutched in his hand, which holds a prayer to Selune. 

“Prayers are often keys, in a way.” Gale muses. Encouraged, Wyll approaches the chest and recites the prayer. The shining blue case of magic falls away into sparkles.

“You should leave it. Or even destroy it.” Shadowheart says even as Wyll makes to lift the lid of the chest.

“Now why would you say that?” he asks, good eye squinting in confusion.

“This rubbish is an offering to Selune. At best, it’s worthless, at worst…who knows? Could be cursed. Do not trifle with that moon witch or her trinkets. Only trouble will follow.”

“Why do you care that it’s for Selune?” Xaph asks, suspicious, “It’s what the goblins want, and if she takes issue with us trying to help refugees and druids I’m sure she’ll let us know.” 

“Why do I care? You want the truth?” Shadowheart asks. It’s not out of character for her words to be said so archly. She feels accused, and maybe she is. She likes her secrets, but she can’t keep them forever.

“You’re among friends, Shadowheart. You speak the most of how much we need to trust one another.” Gale points out.

“I worship Shar,” the cleric admits, “The Mistress of the Night. Selune’s twin and foe. Now that you have the truth, please don’t make a big fuss about it.” Well. Xaph can’t say it doesn’t make sense. Shadowheart has made no secret of her worship, but she’s never tried to impart her patron’s wisdom on the others. Never even said their name. But Shar is a goddess shrouded in darkness, in secrets.

“Shadowheart, I don’t give a shit who you worship,” Xaph tells her, “Each god matters equally little to me, but you can’t let this get in our way.”

“You’re right.” Shadowheart hesitates, then looks at the men with a mildly surprised expression. As though she’d expected them to evict her from the party. “Perhaps I should have told you sooner.”

“We thank you for sharing.” Gale nods.

“Don’t thank me. I’m breaking Lady Shar’s teachings just by telling you. But sometimes you have to be practical.”

“Can I open the chest now?” Wyll asks, and he waits until Shadowheart nods before he flips the lid open.

Astarion and Lae’zel are, thankfully, still waiting at the cave mouth when the rest of the party leave the owlbear family and Selunite shrine behind. Wyll shows the pair his prize, a pendant of moonstone that Gale has confirmed is magic. They can return to the village and give the goblins the amulet. Xaph tells Wyll to take the lead so she can walk beside Shadowheart. She is silent for the most part, clearly having a little trouble coming to terms with sharing the object of her worship.

“We won’t ask any more questions, you know. One thing about this lot, they err on the side of respecting privacy. Everyone has things they don’t want to share. Astarion’s secret just happened to be a little more pressing than yours.”

“I appreciate that. I do trust you, you know. Might not seem like it, but your kindness has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated,” she hesitates again, but Xaph’s pretty sure she’s not going to say anything else about Shar, “May I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“What did you mean, when you said the gods don’t matter to you?”

“What I said,” Xaph shrugs, “All the gods do the same thing in the end. They use you as a toy while you live, then kill you and chew you up and use you as a tool when you die. Not to shit on your faith personally,” she assures her friend, “But I’m as entitled to my disbelief as you are to your devotion.”

“I see.” Shadowheart nods. Her eyes slide past Xaph and towards Wyll who has stopped their procession, “Is that a dog?”

***

With the Selunite amulet, they are granted entry to the village. Moonhaven, a sign proclaims it, though the goblins use a far more vulgar word for it. It’s desolate. Abandoned for several decades at least, probably longer judging by how the buildings have fallen apart. And yet belongings unclaimed by the goblins are scattered everywhere, rotting wicker baskets and opened crates of clothes. Something bad happened here. Unease settles over the entire party, drawing them into a tight knot as they pick their way through the rubble. Just beyond a well from which the smell of dust rises, there’s the sound of screaming.

“Bleeding heart, please don’t-” Astarion starts, then groans when Xaph redirects the party towards a windmill.

“Must we stop for every creature in distress?” Lae’zel asks. 

“We stopped for you, didn’t we?” Shadowheart taunts.

“I asked you to.”

“Demanded, more like,” Astarion counters. An opportunity to be dramatic, and he’s going to take it, imitating Lae’zel’s gravel tones, “Get me down, I need you.”

“I did not say that!”

“Are you sure, darling?”

#rae's writing #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #greensleeves #rae's ocs #baldur's gate 3 oc #bg3 oc #xaph [tav] #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion #astarion ancunin #shadowheart #lae'zel #wyll ravengard

[raekensarcher]

My fics <3 (completed)

All the love we unraveled (and the life i gave away) 3.1k, Thiam.

Thinks I wasn’t sure i even knew how to feel this way anymore. I didn’t think i was capable of doing anything other than harm. I thought all my hands knew how to do was hurt and take and ruin, but you keep proving me wrong. Please, understand i’m trying my best. Please, see me. See me, see me, see me see

Or: what happened between the time they left the hospital and made it to Liam’s house.

Tell me that we’ll be just fine (Even when i lose my mind) 6.3k, Thiam

"What? No 'Thank you for saving my ass, Theo'?, No 'I'm sorry you had to carry my deadweight through this abandoned zoo while hunters are trying to kill us, Theo. That was really brave of you, Theo.'? Oh, wow, Liam! You are so very welcome for saving your ungrateful ass for the millionth fucking time." Theo growls, eyebrows pinched.

"Do you even need me for this conversation?" Liam says, unimpressed.

Or: The five times Theo had to knock Liam out before they were able to leave the zoo.

Close my eyes, fantasize, three clicks and i’m home 3.7k, Thiam

pain·kil·ler

/ˈpānˌkilər/

noun

1. a drug or a medicine for relieving pain.

Examples: Ibuprofen, Advil, The way Liam is looking at him right now.

Or, Alternatively; Liam comes home to find Theo bleeding out on his floor when he's been MIA for two months.

Cause everyone’s growing, and everyone’s healthy (i’m terrified i might never have met me) 20.3k, Thiam

He's allowing Liam to step into his space, to see the worst part of him and say ‘See me, know me, understand that this is the worst of me but it is not who I am. I am a better version of myself. I am not the worst of my actions. I am more. You know me.’

And hope that Liam understands and accepts him anyways.

Or, alternatively: A post hell fic and the road to healing.

Of Gods and Monsters 3.1k, Thiam

The definition of Chimera goes as follows:

"(in Greek mythology) a fire-breathing (female) monster with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail."

Which is true, but Chimera can also mean:

"A thing that is hoped or wished for but in fact is illusory or impossible to achieve."

Or: Theo’s battle with religion and his belief in God.

I’m here, right here, wishing i could be there for you 3.6k, Thiam

"I just wanted to let you know I'm not mad anymore. Snail la vie, or whatever."

"What la vie?"

Or: There's a halloween party, Liam is a little high, Theo is a little annoyed and they're both a little bit in love.

Crimson stained hands 896, Thiam (Implied)

No amount of scrubbing is going to rid the permanent red tint to his hands.

or: Theo is trying very hard to keep himself together.

#thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #teen wolf #thiam fics #liam dunbar x theo raeken #thiam fic rec #liam x theo #theo x liam #thiam fanfiction #thiam fanfic #thiam angst #theo raeken pov #theo raeken centric #liam dunbar pov #thiam zoo fic

[sourw0lfs]

Fox ☠️ 31 ☠️ They/she ☠️ Stranger Things ☠️ BBC Merlin ☠️ AO3 Last updated: April 27 2024 Requests: Closed

Current WIPs

you're on your own kid | E | 6/? | 14.1k | Steddie

can't breathe whenever you're gone | T | 2/? | 3.1k | Gen

dance with the devil Tumblr AO3 | E | 2/? | 7.6k | Steddie

untitled | unposted | unrated | 3.9k | Steddie

untitled | unposted | unrated | 5k | Merthur

Tumblr-only Drabbles

bad blood | M | 1/1 | 311 | Steddie

tangled up in you | G | 1/1 | 311 | Steddie

now we got problems | M | 1/1 | 548 | Steddie

put your lips close to mine | E | 1/1 | 480 | Steddie

go save the world | T | 1/1 | 329 | Buckingham

floating away | T | 1/1 | 400 | Gen, MCD Warning

we found wonderland | G | 1/1 | 404 | Steddie

donut thief | G | 1/1 | 404 | Steddie

you've got stars in your eyes | G | 1/1 | 382 | Steddie

on edge | G | 1/1 | 509 | Steddie

my heart won't start anymore | G | 1/1 | 442 | Steddie, NHE Warning

into the fire | T | 1/1 | 473 | Steddie

a rude awakening | G | 1/1 | 502 | Jargyle

One-Shots

just you and me | G | 1/1 | 2.2k | Merthur

next to you | T | 1/1 | 1.1k | Merwaine

wear me (like your favorite clothes) | M | 1/1 | 7.9k | Steddie

lovin' you's second nature | E | 1/1 | 2.5k | Steddie

i've got a lot of sins (but you're my favorite) | E | 1/1 | 4.6k | Steddie

you would break your back (to make me break a smile) | E | 1/1 | 5.2k | Steddie

write this down | T | 1/1 | 1.7k | Steddie

as the lights go down | T | 1/1 | 1.2k | Steddie

like ribbons in your hair | T | 1/1 | 1.3k | Buckingham

even if it's a false god | G | 1/1 | 1k | Steddie

life is a fever dream | G | 1/1 | 877 | Platonic Stobin, Platonic Stancy

your electric touch | T | 1/1 | 1k | Steddie

remember when you hit the brakes too soon | M | 1/1 | 1.2k | Steddie

caught in a whirlwind | M | 1/1 | 1.4k | Steddie, Ronance

nothing but a monster | M | 1/1 | 1.3k | Gen, MCD Warning

down for the count | T | 1/1 | 848 | Platonic Stobin, Platonic Stancy

but no one heard a thing | T | 1/1 | 902 | Platonic Stobin

stood on the edge | T | 1/1 | 1.4k | Steddie

you slipped away | M | 1/1 | 1k | Steddie, Platonic Stobin, MCD Warning

i want to watch wisteria grow | M | 1/1 | 1.1k | Steddissy

frosting the snowman | T | 1/1 | 2.1k | Steddie

drive until the engine just gives up | E | 1/1 | 13k | Steddie

Series

right where you left me | T | 2/? | 1.4k | Steddie

a monster on the hill | M | 2/? | 3.2k | Steddie

bleeding me dry | T | 2/? | 2.5k | Steddie

i don't wanna lose you | T | 2/? | 2.2k | Platonic Stobin

Completed Multi-chapter

let the fire breathe me back to life | M | 9/9 | 25.3 | Steddie

no body, no crime | E | 5/5 | 21.3k | Steddie, Drumcheer

the very first night | M | 6/6 | 7.1k | Hellcheer

in the nick of time | T | 5/5 | 11k | Steddie

we made quite a mess, babe | E | 5/5 | 15.3k | Steddie

what doesn't kill you (makes you wish you were dead) | M | 16/16 | 59k | Steddie

#fox writes things #fox makes a masterlist #steddie #merthur #hellcheer #steddissy #merwaine #stobin #buckingham

[evernkillian]

HP Rec Fest 2023 - Prompts (Day 1 - A Favorite Fic Under 5k)

Standard Rec Lists Disclaimers Apply: Please for the love of God read the tags and Author's Note/s, This is NOT the ultimate rec lists or whatever, the fics below are my cup of tea.

This was originally through Days 1-5 but .. I Rec'ed (?) a lot. So. Per Day it is.

(also I have more fic recs here!)

@hprecfest #hprecfest2023

🍄🍄🍄

1. the monster you (don't) see by Lils_White (@decomposingfungi )

E | One- Shot | 1.8k Words | Harry / Tom | Voldemort

Summary: "Kneel," says Voldemort. And Harry does. (He dreams of blood and bones under his feet. A throne made of skulls. A king made of poison and lies. Harry carves out his heart and eats it, and he’s finally at peace).

2. Breaking More Taboos by Destiny_Of_A_Dragon

M | One- Shot | 3.3k Words | Harry / Tom | Voldemort

Summary: The first time Harry broke the taboo, he’d been beyond starving, with little to no choice. The second and third times were much the same. But the fourth? That’s when everything changed.

3. between the good and bad is where you’ll find me (dancing with him) by funky_at_heart (@funkyatheart)

T | One- Shot | 4.4k Words | Harry / Tom | Voldemort

Summary: Harry's seventeenth birthday brings with it a whole lot of presents, a slow panic about future job prospects and the freedom of finally being able to attend one of the many peace celebrations a certain Ex-Dark Lord has been throwing for two years now.

4. Once a Paw a Time by You_Light_The_Sky (@youlighttheskyfanfiction)

T | One- Shot | 3.1k Words | Harry / Tom | Voldemort

Summary: In which Tom is still Tom, and Harry is a black cat intent on making Tom miserable. Or happy. Who knows? Certainly not Harry the cat who is absolutely just a normal cat.

5. A series of unlikely events by Pseudonymous_Entity

T | WIP | 4.1k Words

Summary: While running through the Ministry in their attempts to avoid Death Eaters something went terribly wrong. Fortunately, Harry is nothing if not resilient. Inexplicably in the past? Your adversary is now your classmate? Sorted into Slytherin? Bring it on. Harry Potter has totally got this.

6. Wicked Rumor by Anna_Hopkins

T | WIP | 4k Words

Summary: Lord Voldemort has just had an excellent idea for how to ruin Dumbledore's reputation. If he handles this right, the old goat will never recover! "Harry, mate, I'm so sorry," Seamus Finnegan clapped him on the shoulder. "This must be so hard for you." Harry blinked. "..What?" It was just Potions, it wasn't that bad. Slughorn was loads better than Snape had been, after all. "Your dad, mate!" Seamus insisted, holding up an evening edition of the Prophet. "Everyone knows now, you don't have to hide it anymore-" "My dad's dead," said Harry flatly. "Voldemort killed him. Everyone knows that-" Then he read the headline.

7. we who walk in shadows black by Evandar

M | Complete | 3.5k Words | Harry / Tom | Voldemort

Summary: The boy looks up, eyes like the killing curse framed by soot-black lashes, and smiles. It’s a cold, wicked thing with far too many teeth to be friendly and far from the attitude Dumbledore is likely expecting. In which Harry Potter is a vicious little gremlin who knows too much, and Lord Voldemort adores him for it.

8. Riddle in the Dark by LeeASherlook

T | One- Shot | 1.6k Words

Summary: Revisiting the concept of boggarts in Snape's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Harry was wholly prepared to face the faux dementor. But what stepped out of that darkened space was something else entirely. A handsome boy with a gleaming prefect's badge and a cruel smile.

9. Whirlpools by asterismal (asterisms)

T | One- Shot | 484 Words | Harry / Tom | Voldemort

Summary: Harry Potter has fallen back in time. He refuses to fall again.

10. rhythmicity by TreacleTeacups

T | One- Shot | 934 Words | Harry / Tom | Voldemort

Summary: In which Harry says Tom's First Words, but does not bear Tom's

11. the best of friends by TreacleTeacups

T | One- Shot | 1.8k Words | Harry / Tom | Voldemort

Summary: There's less than twenty four hours left until Harry has to face a dragon. He's too wired to sleep, too anxious to sit still. He goes looking for something to preoccupy his mind - and discovers a new friend.

#fanfiction recs #hp fanfiction recs #tomarrymort #tomarry

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Stucky, Sam or Banner

the gods…

I have a thot about the heroes meant to kill Medusa, but he/they hesitate to afrer they heard that she only kill those men unfaithful for their lovers, as for woman, she throw them in the rivers,drown them.

Or Apollo and Daphne? Vertumnus and Pomona?

Cubid and Psyche??

Thanks Nana 💗 I have never written for Bruce so I am going to give this a go! 😉

For the crossover requests this is Marvel with Medusa (Greek gorgon who turns people to stone)

A/N: this took off on its own and ended up straying from where I thought it would go

Medusa’s Curse || Bruce Banner

Summary: You knew everything had a cost but you didn’t expect to become a monster because you got an antique for free. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, murder, blood, cheating OCs, Banner to the rescue. WC: 3.1k

You weren’t usually one for collecting antiques but something drew you to the shop as you meandered past on a Sunday afternoon. The brass handle was cold to touch despite the oppressive heat that beat down in the French Quarter but you turned it anyway and stepped inside. The door closed behind you and silenced the jazz music that the quarter was known for, the eerie quiet leaving you unsettled. 

You expected to hear some sound from the shopkeeper, a greeting, anything, but there was nothing as you wandered through the aisles of overpacked shelves and dusted junk. You had almost come to the end of the store when the feeling intensified and you knelt down to find something hidden behind a box of Mardi Gras beads. For something relatively small, it was very heavy and you dragged it out to find a concrete statue of sorts.

“It’s marble.” 

You spun around with a gasp to find an old woman at the counter, amusement shining through her clouded eyes before she broke out in a wheezing laugh. 

“You kids are always on edge these days.” She chuckled, walking around the counter with the assistance of a cane fashioned to look like a snake.

“Well considering we seem to be constantly attacked by aliens or some other supernatural being I think we are allowed to be a little wound up.” You complained as you pulled yourself up from the floor. “How much for the marble…thing?”

“Vessel.” She corrected, hunching over to pick it up and carry it to the counter.

You frowned as you remembered the weight of it but she had no problem placing it gently beside the cash register and gesturing you forward.

“There’s always been attacks of some kind, cher, best not to worry too much or you’ll end up wrinkled like me.” She said as she hit some buttons only for the ancient machine to splutter. “Look at that, she’s finally died. My priestess would tell me that was a sign.”

She pushed the sculpture towards you and you shook your head reaching for your purse. “I can’t take this, it’s gotta be worth something.”

“It has value, but not in money. Take it, cher, something tells me it’s already yours.”

You grabbed the base of the statue and tilted your head in confusion as it no longer looked warped and unrecognisable but now resembled a woman. You brushed the oddity off, thinking it must have been hidden under years of thick dust, and picked it up to find it much lighter than before. 

“Strange.” You muttered under your breath as you headed for the door. Realising you hadn’t thanked the woman you turned back but found the shop empty, the beaded curtain doorway to the back perfectly still. “Very strange.”

As you walked home, you dusted off what you could and planned to give the statue a thorough clean. Your nails kept catching on something wrapped around the woman’s throat but you couldn’t quite get a grasp on it, especially not when you were walking through the busy Bourbon Street. 

“Okay, what secrets are you hiding?” You mumbled to yourself as you set her on your kitchen bench and filled the sink with hot soapy water. The water was filthy by the time you had scrubbed her clean and you gasped as you found a necklace wrapped around her neck, an amethyst stone hanging between the perfectly carved swell of her chest. You carefully unravelled the thin gold chain and held it up to catch the light, a rainbow reflecting from the facets of the stone. “Holy shit.”

You admired the pretty jewel as you pondered what to do but you couldn’t in good conscience keep the necklace. Pocketing it, you left the statue soaking in the water and made your way back to the store. 

Confusion slammed you as you reached the corner in the quarter where the store had been, only now it was a costume shop. You spun around, checking all of the shop fronts before confirming this was the very spot you had been less than an hour ago. 

“What the fuck is going on?” You asked aloud only to be glared at by a mother walking with her child. “Sorry.”

You pulled the necklace from your pocket and looked at the disorientating shop. You couldn’t exactly give it back now and the old lady had said it belonged to you, so you unlatched the clasp and draped it over your chest. A shock rippled through your body as the clasp locked behind your neck and the stone heated between the concave of your chest. The heat spread across your skin until you were sure you would have to scream, then everything went dark.

“Breaking News: Two more female bodies have been found in the Mississippi this evening making it the fourth recovery this week. Just as we found with the last two cases, each woman had been anchored to the riverbed by a stone-carved male, each carving resembling an active missing persons case…”

You turned off the tv before you had to hear anymore details and dropped the remote beside you with a sickening feeling. The necklace pulsed against your heart and you tried once again to pull it off but the chain held fast, not even the bolt cutters you had borrowed from your neighbour could cut through it.

You could still hear their screams, hear the splash of water as you pushed them from banks of the Mississippi to punish them for their adulterous ways. You could never remember how you found the lovers, you rarely went out after dark but there you were - suddenly across town with vengeance in your heart. 

You knew the power rested in the jewel, it would emit a glow that turned the cheating men to a statue, trapping him in a lovers embrace with a heart of stone that he deserved. The call of the river sung to you, overpowering the terrified screams of the women trapped in an unbreakable, cold embrace. You were a passenger in the backseat of your own body.

“What do you mean they were people?” Fury growled as he paced his way across his office. “I saw the statues.”

“Only, they aren’t statues.” Dr Banner said as he turned his laptop screen around. “A first responder broke the arm off one to extricate the victim and look at this…it's perfectly preserved anatomical structure.”

Nick stared at the screen, looking closer at the intricate detail of bones and veins beneath the layers of marble skin and muscle. “Have you seen anything like this? ‘Cause I know I certainly haven’t and I’ve seen a lot of weird shit.”

“Personally, no. But-”

“Of course there’s a but.” Nick sighed before gesturing for Bruce to continue.

“You’ve heard of Medusa, right?”

“Greek myth, lady with snake hair, hates men. That Medusa?” Nick rolled his good eye and crossed his arms in disbelief. 

“Thor was a myth until, you know, he landed in New Mexico.” Bruce pointed out. “And she didn’t hate all men. See, she was supposedly cursed by Athena because she had an affair with Poseidon. All the missing men, the one’s I believe were turned to stone, were having affairs with the women who were drowned in their arms.”

Nick thumbed his chin as he began his pacing again.“So you think this is Medusa? Interesting…but why now?”

“I don’t know.” Bruce shook his head, closing his laptop.

“Ok, well where did she come from?”

“I also don’t know that.” 

“Well, what do you know?” Nick huffed as his patience waned.

“All of the murdered are localised to New Orleans.”

Nick nodded. “Make sure you bring me back some real Gumbo.”

“Excuse me?” Bruce frowned before tearing his glasses off his face. “You can’t be serious, I’m a scientist, not a field agent.”

“Laissez les bon temps rouler.” Nick chuckled, pointing out his office window to the helicopter coming to life at his order. “Let the good times roll.”

It was a quiet Tuesday night when you felt the stone heating up once again and your vision began to dim. You tried your hardest to fight the impending darkness, knowing nothing good would come of it, but you were too weak and quickly fell prey to the power of the cursed stone.

“There, we have another spike.” Bruce said excitedly as he jumped out of his computer chair in the laboratory SWORD had set up in New Orleans. “Tracing the electromagnetic waves now, and we should have a lock any second..gotcha.”

He dropped a pin onto the virtual map in front of him, right on the river's edge in Saint Rose. The group of agents were already assembling around him as he grabbed his tablet and followed them to the convoy of trucks ready to go. Bruce still looked like he should have been in his lab, his white coat hanging open over his humble button down shirt and his wire framed glasses sliding down his nose, but his face was surprisingly stoic as he prepared himself for what they would find.

Nick’s orders were simple: kill whatever it is killing the New Orleanians. It wasn’t something that sat well with Bruce, preferring to have an intellectual conversation over fighting, but he would cross that bridge when he got there. First he needed to warn the oblivious agents to the dangers they were getting into.

“We are about to come face to face with a being of immense power, she is most likely an ancient goddess who has been cursed as a monster.” Bruce looked up from the tablet to see how everyone was taking the news and found them being attentive so he went back to the dot on the map. “She has the ability to turn men, who have or are cheating on their partners, to stone. We don’t know exactly how this power works so, to be on the safe side, if you have ever cheated on anyone - sit this one out.”

The small boat rocked gently with the waves rippling across the waters surface but its occupants were oblivious as you stepped onto the deck. Their infidelity was a magnet pulling you closer, or perhaps it was a distasteful scent on the breeze, either way it was leading you straight to where they were committing their mortal sin. 

“Woah, what the hell!” The man shouted as he caught sight of you over the woman’s shoulder, her rhythm unfaltering as she rode him.

His scream pulled her from her revelry and she tried to climb off him as his skin turned grey but his hands were frozen on her hips, the fingers digging into her skin turning to stone. 

“Help me!” She screamed as she craned her neck and saw you standing passively by the door. “Please!”

Your eyes were a nightmare inducing milky grey, reflecting the stone that now lay beneath her naked body, but your smile was much darker. The amethyst hanging from your neck glowed brightly and the boat creaked as the weight of the stone tested the buoyancy. You could feel the pressure of the river rising and stepped back, closing the door to the cabin before making your way back up to the pier. 

Your feet touched the wooden planks of the jetty just as the stone man broke through the bottom of the boat to sink to the riverbed, his lover trapped in his embrace. You could feel the power beginning to fade as the curse finished its relentless cycle but the relief was short lived as the all too familiar scent blew upwind. Your eyes darted across the dark banks of the river and the glow of the city on the horizon silhouetted the shapes of people closing in on you. 

You tried to fight the urge again but the power was all consuming and pushed you to the corners of your own mind as you stepped forward towards the danger. 

“Medusa!” A man called out and you tilted your head as you recognised him from the Avengers, Bruce Banner. 

“Mon Cher, you know my name.” Your lips moved but another voice spoke, the old woman from the antique store, forcing her words from your mouth. “And you brought me an offering.”

You inhaled the thick scent of illicit love and stepped closer to a pair of agents clutching their weapons tightly. A strong hand latched onto your shoulder and you peered down at the limb that was turning a soft shade of green.

“You’re not gonna hurt my friends.” Bruce warned as he pulled you away from them, the pain of his grip waking you from the nightmare you were trapped in. 

“They brought it on themselves.” You spoke coldly as you felt your eyes turning grey as the power swelled once again. His hand was growing larger and his strength threatened to crush your collarbone but you welcomed the pain as you fought for control over your own body. “The…necklace.”

Your voice was broken and the very air seemed to want to suffocate you as you squeezed the words out of your lungs before losing what little control you had regained. Bruce's eyes darted to your chest, seeing the pendant’s unnatural glow, and he dropped his hold on you so he could swipe at the chain. Blood trickled down your neck as he tugged the deceptively strong gold strand and you screamed at the flood of pain that washed the grey from your eyes. 

Bruce watched the change with fascination, remembering how he at one point had his own wars with the enemy in his body. Realising he was going to decapitate you if he pulled any harder, he changed tactics - knowing he could not follow Fury’s order and kill you. He grabbed the necklace with both hands, each one pulling away from your head as his hand grew larger and greener. 

“Come on buddy, I need your strength.” He muttered under his breath as he began to pull. 

The necklace seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting as he gritted his teeth, a guttural cry thrown to the night as his agents watched the Hulk struggle to break a thin gold necklace. Every small stretch of the chain released you from the hold it held and you placed your hands over his hand in front of your, pushing as hard as you could to help. 

“Please, don’t let go.” You begged as you looked up through your tears to see the veins in his head bulging with his effort and his eyes glowing bright green. 

Something about your voice drove him to push harder, a need to protect you from what caused the fear in your tone. Hulk felt the fear as his own because he knew how it felt to be trapped in a body and the need to be freed and he pushed further into Bruce’s consciousness as he loaned all of his strength. Blood dripped from Hulk’s hands as the chain bit into his tough skin, but still he held tight and gritted his teeth through the pain. It felt like a losing battle. 

“If you can’t break it, you have to kill me.” You whimpered as you saw his fingers begin to slip. “Promise me.” 

You closed your eyes as the ropes of muscles wrapped around his arms bulked up even more while the planks of the pier snapped from the bracing of his legs. 

“Do. It.” You growled, hating the thought of going back to being a killing machine for a cursed goddess.

“NO!”

You were shocked by the defiant anger fuelling Bruce. It had been a long time since anyone stood up for you that you had forgotten what it felt like. You could almost believe he cared that you lived. Unfortunately the armed agents at your back didn’t have the same convictions and you heard them cock their weapons, the bolt sliding into place as they raised their assault rifles to their shoulders.

“I SAID NO!” Hulk’s booming voice rattled your eardrums and with one last ditch effort he prised the chain apart, a ripple of reminiscent power exploding out and knocking the agents to the ground. Bruce caught you as the sonic boom rendered you unconscious and the jewel faded back to its natural state in his hands. He stumbled over the broken planks of the jetty but kept you safely cradled in his arms, placing you gently in the back of the Jeep he had arrived in.

“Would’ve been easier to just kill her.” Fury said as he stepped out of the shadows.

“Is that SWORDs solution to everything?” Bruce asked as he straightened out his clothes that were a little stretched but still in one piece.

“It’s not named FLOWER for a reason.” He chortled before nodding his head to his agent. “Hill.”

Marie stepped up with a secure briefcase and opened it for the necklace, snapping it shut the moment Bruce laid in on the insulating foam.

“You’re not gonna try to make a weapon out of this right? You do remember what happened with the Tesseract.” Bruce checked as he placed a heavy hand on the briefcase.

Fury grabbed the handle and pulled it out from under Bruce’s hand before disappearing into the shadows, his deep laugh echoing behind. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

“Hey! What do I do with her?”

“That’s up to you, Doctor Banner.” Nick said, his voice getting quieter with each step. “She’s wanted for the murder of at least 8 people.”

“But it wasn’t her!” He argued, watching you stir on the back seat at the noise.

“If only someone knew a lawyer who specialised in the supernatural…”

Bruce was already reaching for his phone, sending a silent prayer that his cousin Jennifer would answer his call. Her law firm was based in New York but hopefully she would make the exception for family. He had seen your eyes, seen your selflessness as you were ready to sacrifice yourself so that everyone else would be safe. He didn’t want to see you suffer the consequences of Medusa’s curse, you had already suffered enough.

Bruce climbed in the backseat, his leg becoming your pillow as you curled up and shivered as you no longer had the heat of the jewel. Shrugging off his lab coat, Bruce draped it over you as he noticed your eyelids twitching and your breathing quicken and he wondered what you were dreaming. Whatever it was, he hoped it took you far away, if only for a moment.

The trill of the phone stopped ringing and a sleepy voice answered before it went to voicemail.

“Hey Jenny. It’s Bruce.” He said quietly, trying not to wake you. “I need a favour.”

#Bruce banner x reader #Bruce banner x poc!reader #hulk x reader #dr banner x reader #hulk fanfic #bruce banner fanfiction #bruce banner imagine

[bailey-whalieee]

Off the Deep End

No one said being an avenger would be easy, especially not after that mission, but the boys were there and it even caused her to realize what she had been missing this whole time.. 

Pairings: Steve x Reader x Bucky

Words: 3.1k

Warnings- traumatic events, shooting, PTSD & lots of stucky fluff. 

✮

It had been three days since she had even left the comfort of the four walls that surrounded her. Three days of silent tears slipping down her faces throughout random times of the day. Three days of reliving the failed mission. 

Three days of literal hell. 

Each member of the team took a hard hit, but gods, Y/n was right in the middle of the chaos and watched it as it erupted. She was as innocent as the bystanders that were slaughtered and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop it. 

Y/n being the second youngest out of all of these Avengers had yet to even witness something so traumatic and horrifying like what had happened in Prague. She still had that one ounce of innocence that the world had yet to rip from her and it was gone before she even knew it. The others had seen the ugly and the screaming for help, but Y/n, gods she was practically a baby to all this. 

And to see all that blood shed at once, they all knew what would come at night and they weren’t wrong. She hadn’t slept for three whole days due to the night terrors that haunted her. 

They watched as she stood helpless amidst the burning buildings and the terrorized victims not even knowing where to begin. It killed all them to watch her try to revive as many people as she could and not one of them come back. 

The amount of blood that stained her stealth suit made them wince as she entered the quinjet with red, puffy eyes and her head staring at the floor. They all knew what she was thinking: ‘what did I do wrong?’

Steve and Bucky were the first to try and console the heartbroken woman, but nevertheless nothing they could say would erase the amount of death and screaming victims out of her mind. They all let her trek back to her room, knowing that none of their words would provide comfort or a small grain of hope. 

So, that is where Y/n was left. In the solace of herself and the ingrained images in her brain that she begged for someone to get rid of. 

At the stroke of 7 PM, Y/n heard the creaking of her door being opened and two tall shadowy figures entered. Steve and Bucky noticed her small body in the middle of her bed, still clothed in her dirt covered tactical gear. Small splatters of blood stained the tops of her combat boots and dust from the fallen debris covered her face. She had been the only one who didn’t go to the medbay that night after they arrived home and it worried the two super-soldiers sick. 

Y/n knew she had a couple minor injuries, but what didn’t seem minor to the two men was the gash above her right temple that had yet been treated. The gash looked swollen and bruises peppered her eye socket; the blood that once ran down the side of her cheek had ceased and dried. 

Softly speaking, Steve cleared his throat, “Y/n, Bruce told us that you haven’t been down to the medbay.. You sustained a pretty major head wound, so we figured we would go with you..” 

Every ounce of her wanted to acknowledge them, unable to defeat the monster ruling in her head she ignored them. Her eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, practically ignoring her best friends. 

Bucky gnawed on his lip, wondering if the head gash was the only injury Y/n left the battlefield with three days ago. They were all no stranger to the monster PTSD, but it worried him that it caused an even bigger problem than just PTSD itself. 

PTSD didn’t just bring itself to the party, it was never one to just be lonesome. It brought all its friends: depression, anxiety, insomnia, flashbacks, survivor's guilt, suicidal ideation, etc… 

Steve sighed, “sweetheart, is it okay if we help you to the medbay?” 

Unmoving, she laid still in the unmade bed. Bucky began to wonder if she was even breathing, carefully counting her breathing patterns before stepping closer to her. 

And as he moved further, Y/n opened her mouth and barely audible said, “I feel too weak to move.” 

Choking up, Y/n concealed the tears that desperately wanted to fall from her eyes. The guilt 

Pausing, both men came to either side of her, careful not to hurt her. Lifting her by the waist, Y/n was struggling to even understand what they were doing. Her mind was racing too far for her body to catch up, hell she didn’t even feel real at this point and time. Between the dissociation and the lack of nutrients, as the men lifted Y/n to her feet they soon realized she couldn’t even walk on her own. 

Her knees buckled the moment either one of them lessened their grasp on her waist. 

“Hey doll, we need you to know that nothing you did was wrong, okay? You did amazing-” she cut Bucky off. 

“Please, don’t bring it up. It makes everything up here,” motioning to her head, “so much worse.” 

That itself made the woman hang her head down, not wanting to see the others or even see the looks on their faces. Steve made eye contact with Bucky as they walked through the double doors of the medbay, confirming both of their suspicions of PTSD. 

Banner turned his head seeing the two men practically carrying the woman like she was lifeless and his eyes widened. Just one glimpse and he could tell she hadn’t slept for days nor had any type of nutrition or water and not to mention the scabbed over gash on her right temple. 

He so badly wanted to curse the whole team for letting her wait this long with a head injury. “Sit her on table 3,” he directed, practically fuming. 

 “Hon, give me just a couple minutes. I’m going to have the nurse come run a few quick tests while we are gone, shouldn’t take but ten minutes,” he softly stated before hardening his glance back to the two soldiers. 

“You, and you are coming with me. We need to have a quick chat with the team,” he gritted through his teeth. 

Eyes wide, they followed him regardless back to the common area where the rest of the team could be found. 

“Are you out of your goddamn minds?!” Bruce shouted, making the avengers flinch. 

They all seemed taken back by his shout, especially Tony. “Bruce, what’s this about?”

“It’s been what? 3 whole days since you guys came back from Prague maybe longer and for some reason Y/n is just now being sent to the medbay? Are you guys serious?” He fumed, waving his hands wildly, redirecting their attention to something other than the mad Doctor. 

“She’s okay? What’s the big deal? The kid is fine, she took a couple hard hits, but we all did,” Tony sighed, nonchalantly crossing his arms. 

Running his hands over his face, Bruce yelled out, “she has a head injury Tony! And from what I am seeing she took more than just a couple hard hits, she looks like she is still in fucking shock! Have any of you even checked on her? I mean seriously, do you not understand how dangerous this could be?! She is still in her tactical gear from three days ago! THREE DAYS!!” 

A small wave of gasps and wide eyes covered the room, all except for Steve and Bucky who had found her looking more like a skeleton and less like chipper, save world Y/n. 

“You guys are ridiculous.. How many times did she check up on you guys when you took hard hits, disregarding her own problems? Every goddamn time. And not once, did you even think about checking up on her this time. I hope you realize just how much danger you put her life in, you all know the protocol,” he hissed, absolute rage filling his words, “head injuries go to the medbay immediately when landing, no matter how small. You all know that.” 

After his rant, Banner made his way back down to the medbay, composing himself for the sake of Y/n. Praying to the gods, that nothing serious was damaged or beyond repair. 

The rest of the team found themselves mute, unable to process their own stupidity because what Bruce shouted and ranted about had been completely true. They all knew she had been hit with fallen debris and it managed to gash her temple, they knew she hadn’t gone to the medbay that night.. And not one of them decided to go pull her out of bed and force her to the medical center. 

“Steve, Buck, be honest,” Wanda finally spoke up, guilt lacing her voice, “how is she?” 

Bucky cleared his throat, trying to hold the tears within, “she, uh, she’s definitely not the same Y/n that walked into that mission with a big smile and making fun of the hydra agents for looking emo,” he chuckled softly, “um, she practically didn’t say anything when went to check on her. Not even a hint of a smile or a stupid joke.. She’s struggling with something inside that not even Bruce can fix.” 

“She was staring at the ceiling when we walked in, didn’t even acknowledge us until Bucky got close to her.. Gods, Bruce is right. If something is seriously wrong, we failed her. We failed her just as much as we failed not realizing that hydra had planted those damn bombs. I mean, we sent her into the middle of that havoc not even knowing if she would make it out!” Steve ranted, pacing the linoleum flooring. 

Silence incased the group as they took in the Captain’s words knowing that all of them are true. They had been so caught up in making sure they themselves were fine to even realize how big of a hit the young avenger took. 

“We should’ve noticed, we of all people should’ve been the ones to notice,” Wanda softly whispered, finally breaking the thickened silence. 

Bucky shook his head, running his hand through his hair. He exited the room trying to keep himself together, but began failing to keep composure when he realized he and Steve may lose her.

They had promised to tell her soon, but it seemed that every chance they had gotten turned into a random conversation about her new favorite things, or her worrying over them, or them backing out last minute.. 

It never seemed like the perfect time to drop the bomb on her, that they were both absolutely infatuated with her. Steve and Bucky had never been so sure about a woman in their whole lives and they weren’t the only ones who noticed it either. 

The whole team could see it, everyone knew the small secret. To be honest, no one blamed the two super-soldiers. She fit perfectly between the two of them, the little slice of heaven they both were missing. She loved them more than she could ever imagine, but respected that they were both in a relationship with one another. Although, she had picked up on them only calling her pet names. 

While each of the avengers were stuck in their own little worlds wondering just how much they fucked up, Bruce had begun to diagnose the young woman. 

She seemed so dull and lifeless lying on the gurney, making his heart wrench. The wound on her had scabbed over making him wonder how big of a scar it may leave, so far Y/n didn’t have a concussion or any major head related injuries which lifted a lot of weight off of his shoulders. But, one major problem was the two broken ribs on her left side along with a small hairline fracture on her brow bone most likely due to whatever caused the wound on her temple. 

“B-bruce.. I, uh, I hit some rumble when the explosion went off. Umm, is anything, is anything broken?” she whispered, her voice coarse and rough. 

He flinched slightly, from how scratchy her voice sounded, “well, hon, you’ve got two broken ribs and a small hairline fracture on your brow bone.. Have you eaten anything in the past three days?” 

She softly shook her head, before saying, “I, I don’t, I can’t bring myself too.” 

Furrowing his brows, Bruce paused, “may I ask why not?” 

Her face dropped suddenly, and Y/n felt those dark thoughts coming back to life. The ones she tried to fight off the last three days, the ones that haunt her vision everytime she closes her eyes. 

Tears pricked at her eyes as she took a breath, causing pain to erupt from her side. “Bruce, I saw a lot of bad things.. More than I wanted too,” she gulped, “can I go back to my room now?” 

“Y/n, I think you should stay for a little-” 

“I’d like to go back to my room now,” she cut him off abruptly, swinging her legs over the gurney trying to ignore the burning pain in her side. 

Bruce tried to stop her, but she quickly walked out before he could get another word out. He noted her weird behavior, sighing. 

As she turned the corner to the living room, she noticed the avengers arranged around the living room doing absolutely nothing. Just in what seemed to be deep thought. 

The IV needle hung loosely out of her right hand, the tape holding in place as she turned to walk up the circular staircase. 

“Y/n? Hey, Y/n-” Tony called out, worriness covering the older man’s face. 

“I’m okay, I’d like to be alone for right now.. If you guys need anything, I’ll be in my room,” she breathed harshly, giving a tight smile trying to hold the tears in. 

“Goddammit, Y/n. Stop!” Tony finally shouted. 

It had felt like all of the air in her lung evaporated from the loud shout. It echoed within the avenger’s tower, causing Y/n to flinch and it sent her body into flight, but she remained frozen on the staircase. 

Sounds of loud ricocheting bombs rang in her ears, and images of her scrambling to make it past every exploding bomb flashed in her mind. The fight between life or death became prominent in that very moment as Y/n struggled to differentiate reality and the past. 

They watched as Y/n turned ghost white, her face dropped causing both Bucky and Steve mentally panic. Her fingertips lightly grasped the handrail as she teetered between what she thought and what she knew to be true. Y/n finally sunk to the flooring of the steps and a gulf of tears began to seep down her cheeks. 

Not being able to tell between reality and the past ate away at her mind. It was like she had gone completely mad, insane even. 

Rushing to the woman, Bucky and Steve wasted no time trying to figure out a way to help. 

“Hey, Y/n you’re okay sweetheart. I promise, you’re not where your mind is trying to convince you. You’re going to be okay, honey,” Steve gently coaxed, allowing for her small hands to grasp his overly large ones. 

Leaning into Bucky’s grasp, Y/n found a comfort like she never had. With both of their deep voices softly pulling her back to reality, she had found a home within two people. 

And so, the war between Y/n’s mind and herself began. Now, with all the Avengers realizing how much they had fucked up, the tedious task of healing what a surgical doctor can’t had fallen into their grasp. 

Many months flew by, and they had noticed how much the young woman had changed, but one thing had not, the way Steve and Bucky looked at the woman. The way their eyes shined and the way their ears would block out all other voices, but hers. 

They would sit in her therapist's office waiting for her sessions to be done, so they could comfort her after long or scary visits, remind her to eat or drink when she had forgotten, calm her down when something triggers memories. 

And after one session in particular, a realization had befallen the young woman. 

“So, Y/n we have spoken previously about figures in your life that are helping you cope after the events, but would you be willing to tell me about what they do to help you cope?” her therapist asked, as her pen contacted the legal pad softly. 

A gentle smile grew on her face, “I mean, when I went off the deep end the whole team jumped in immediately to help me go back to being who I am. Reminding me to eat and drink, they figured out what my triggers were, allowed me to cry when needed, they helped me a lot before I came to you, but I have two in particular that really understood and..” pausing on her words, she gasped, “Dr. Howell, I need to go do something. I will be back next session.” 

Dr. Howell’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched Y/n scrambled to pick up her things and practically run out the door. She wondered if it had something to do with Y/n’s PTSD or if maybe the woman had finally become aware of something. 

Y/n’s heart raced as she barreled through the double doors and into the waiting area where Steve and Bucky sat watching some childish cartoon on the television which happened to be quite normal. 

They both turned around sensing another presence in the waiting area, and when they turned around they weren’t expecting Y/n to be standing there red cheeked and anxious. 

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Steve stood up, worry covering his face. 

“Doll, your session wasn’t supposed to end for another forty-five minutes? Is it another attack? Do you want to leave, take a walk, hell we could even go get ice-” 

Cutting Bucky off, Y/n started shakily talking, “no, no, no, it’s.. It’s, look I realized something just right now and it couldn’t wait and I am so stupid for realizing it so late.” 

Bucky and Steve looked at her waiting for her to keep talking, the nervousness eating them both alive. This could be a number of things, this could be a new fear, or- 

“She asked me about who helped me cope after the mission and I kept telling her all these wonderful things about how the team were there and my mind just kept screaming about how you guys were the ones to help me eat and drink and how you sit in my therapist office waiting for me to be done and how you know exactly what my triggers are and fuck, even when I went off the deep end you guys were there. Dammit, I just love you. I love you, I love you guys so damn much. More than I should, more than I am allowed too.” 

Bucky and Steve felt their faces curve up into a smile, she had finally said what they were so scared to say. She stood there, absolutely dumbfounded as to why they were smiling, considering everyone in the world knew they were absolutely in love with each other. 

“Why are you guys smiling? Why aren’t you running for the hills?” she exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. 

Chuckling, Steve pulled her into a hug, “because we are absolutely, fully in love with you too, silly girl.” 

Bucky grinned, kissing the top of her head, “trust me, we’ve struggled so much the past few months trying to figure out a way to tell you. Stevie almost breaks every time we see you, but I’ve been telling him to wait until you are ready. We know you’ve been through hell these past couple months.” 

A couple of happy stray tears dripped down her face, “and I wouldn’t have made it through hell without you two.. Gods, I can’t imagine trying to do this without you.” 

Y/n, Bucky, and Steve walked back to the Avenger’s tower content and enjoying each other's presence. When they walked through the elevator doors, the other avenger’s were sprawled across the living room. 

And like a lightbulb went off, Tony said, “about fucking time capsicle and metal armed idiot. Finally got your girl.” 

For the first time in many months, Y/n let out a laugh that made each avenger smile and though the hard times were not over at least one thing had worked out in return. 

#stucky x reader #avengers x reader #steve x reader #steve x you #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #avengers #avenger oneshots

[impala1967dwinchester]

Sam Winchester- Dream 2.0

(Request-ish)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, sex-dream, dreams coming true, cursing, edging, inner thoughts, dialogue.

Summary: When Y/n finally settles into bed after a nice bath and reading fan-fiction she has a heat-inducing dream at the one and only Sam Winchester.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/n- @firefly-graphics for amazing dividers.

Main Master List // Sam Winchester Master List

The hot bath water seeps into my aching muscles from the shitty week I had. Work was crawling up my ass about reports, and the weirdos on tinder wouldn't stop asking for pictures of my ass or my tits. Nothing was going my way besides the bath, and my phone in my hand.

My bath was bubbling, and the suds from the bath bomb I had put in. The amroa was sweet and smelled of lavender. My phone was playing a soft jazz playlist, and I relaxed, feeling that this would be the last I felt like this for a while. SO I sit in my bathtub at almost nine at night relaxing and taking in the sound. My phone buzzes, taking me from my thoughts.

My mother was messaging at nine. Nine at night, bothering me. "Make sure you get good sleep tonight baby." My mother had never stopped being so controlling over my daily life. A message every few hours and if I don't respond to this message.

She'll send another and another before eventually calling and asking me if I'm dying. The word dramatic summed up my mother. So for now I respond back. "Thank you mom. I'm going to bed right now." And that should be the end of it for today at least.

I scroll out of my messages taking only a second to glance at my background on my phone. Sam Winchester from a book collection. Someone actually drew this in their imagination of what Sam Winchester would look like in real life.

Broad shoulder, dark brown hair, puppy dog eyes, but a strong jawline. The blue flannel that was drawn over his shoulder was perfect, giving him a more fit look. His jeans, what I could of them laid low on his hips. Barely able to see the start of that v-line.

Any girl regardless of being addicted to supernatural books would fall in love with this man. I know that I did. From the very first book I read, I was caught in the web of Sam Winchester.

The way the author wrote him. Like he was a god, not a sex god, but just a god. From his brown eyes to the nerdy things he said. He was perfect, perfect on paper, and also in fanfiction.

So I lay in the soothing water of my bath, and started to read about him. Read about the way he would comfort me after a hunt gone wrong, or the way he’d hold me in his huge arms to protect me from the monsters that we both knew were very real.

As I start to read the current words on my phone. I notice the intense theme of where this fiction is going.

“He slides me up onto the pool table. The bars lights are dimmed and the rain outside is pounding on the bars windows. He grips me tightly and lays me down on the pool table. ‘You mustn't be such a tease during the work day.’ Sam says in a husky voice. His hands planted firmly on my hips. That look in his eyes tells me that he’s got a devious plan in order.”

My bath water is cooling by the minute. The bubbles started to evaporate and my hair started to get soaked. The thought of something like this happening to me ever is such a fairytale, but I continue to read on. The story has me by the edge of my seat of course not literally.

“He slips me towards the edge of the pool table. Lifting my hips up on the edge of the table gives him more access to everything he wants. While the jukebox plays music in the background, Sam drags his hands up from my hips to my breasts. He keeps his warm large hands on my shirt hovering over my breasts. ‘Before you start to beg, and plead for my attention that you so desperately want. I’ll be showing you exactly what you did to me all damn day long.’ Sam whispers in my ear.

I shake and clench my thighs together under the water. Almost dropped my phone in the now cold bath water. I have to finish this before getting out and going to be. I just have to.

“I’m telling you baby girl. Today will be that last day, or time that you ever amble around this bar, showing off your tits, and ass.’ Sam's brow is sharp on his face. “You’ll learn tonight what real slow torture is.” Sam says. He lifts me up. I let him take full control there's no way I’d ever have control over this. The truth being that he’s right I’ve been teasing the hell out of him since early this morning. See the thing is that, I know or at least I’d like to think I know how far I can push Sam before he gets to his breaking point.”

The water is freezing now, but I’m not done reading. So I continue to sit. The music I had started over an hour ago is now just replaying. I turn my attention back to my phone's screen, back to the words on the screen.

“He tauts me for being so egar to play along with his game. His eyes are darker then usual, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’ll have me begging for that sweet release in just a matter of seconds. Sam reaches for the bottom of my work shirt, pulling the black shirt over my chest, and off my shoulders. The obstruction of my bra annoys Sam only more, not caring about his action he rips the fabric off my small frame. Throwing the fabric to the side, the cool air of the bar hitting my breasts causing goosebumps to rise, and my nipples to do the same.

He chuckles at my reaction to the cold air around us. “I forget just how sensitive you really are.” His tone is cocky and he’s deliberately not touching me. I bear with the contactless action he’s giving me “You know that was one of my favorite bras right?” I say, it’s been the only thing I’ve said so far, a raised brow and I’m back to being quiet on the green pool table.”

I shiver in the cold water but continue on in the depth of the story.

“He’s got me begging for his cock by the second he’s tearing off his belt. Gripping it tight around my wrist. “You don’t get to touch.” His tone sharp, and his words loud and clear in my head. I shake my head, “I didn’t say you couldn’t use your words baby.” Sam says, bumping his crotch up against my bare pussy. I buck my hips, trying so desperately to get some sort of friction. He taunts me, digging his thumbs into the skin of my hip.”

“This is how I spend I don’t know, all I can hear is my heartbeat, and my whines, and moans are bouncing off the bars walls. “I think you’ve learned love.” Sam says, as he slips my panties back on my swollen pussy. My breath won’t catch up with me, my legs burn as I try to move off the pool table. “Do you need help, love?” He asks in that dominated sweet tone. A hum is all I can muster. I guess I can’t be teasing him any more.”

I’m quick to shut my phone off pulling the plug on the drain, and grab my soft towel. By the time I get out of the bathroom and I’m snuggling in the warm sheets in my bed. It’s almost evlene in the morning. At least you spent it doing something you liked. I thought to myself, and I do feel more relaxed than before. Maybe the cold water did me good.

“Y/n you okay over there?” Someone asks me, I look up, and it’s him. Him in all of his glory. The dark shaggy shoulder length hair, with the blue flannel, and those dark brown eyes. I feel like I'm drooling, so I’m quick to lick my lips, and shake my head. ‘Strike me dead if this isn’t real’ is all I can think. “Did you shake your head at the question, Y/n?” His voice asks again. Brown eyes wanting an answer, I swallow not really knowing if my voice will carry my words.

“Yeah, Yeah I’m fine Sam.” I say. He smiles at me, closing the book in front of him. “That’s good Y/n, you’ve seemed off for the past couple of days. I wonder if something happened on that last hunt.” Sam says out loud. It’s so odd, but makes me feel so tingling when my name comes from his lips. Like honey over biscuits. It’s perfect, warm and smooth in my ears. I hum to Sam's comment. He gets up walking over to the side of the table I’m sitting at.

He reaches out, I flinch. Not really knowing what is still going on. I’m in a flight-or-fight response. The sad expression on his face is quick to the point where you can’t really catch it. “Sorry.” All I say, Sam sits down next to me. “Why don’t you go to bed?” He says reaching over for hands that are still laying perfectly still on the lore book that I guess I was reading at one point.

I’m hesitant to even get up from the seat I’m sitting in. I guess Sam can see it, “How about we both go to bed yeah.” He suggests, I only shake my head. Sam gets up from the seat, reaching his hand out and waiting for mine to shut his. When I do reach out his large hand is warm, and rough, but it’s better than I could ever dream of.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of us until we reach the door. The silver number reflects Sam and I, our hands still clasped together. “Come on sweetie.” Sam says, cracking the bedroom door open. It’s simple inside, the bed is made, and the room is relatively cleaned up. Smells of whiskey and vanilla. I smile at the ideas reeling through my mind.

“There she is.” Sam says. Sitting down at the edge of the bed. “Yeah.” I answer back. I sat down next to him. “I think I know what the problem was.” Sam starts to say, “I think you wanted to get out of research.” He says with a smile. I shrug my shoulders. Research for what?

Wait, I think I get it. “Is Dean asleep?” I ask Sam, Sam hums, “He crashed in his man cave.” Sam says. It clicks, we’re in the bunker. I’m ‘with’ Sam? “Why are you asking if he’s asleep dear?” Sam asks me.

“I have an idea,” I said, looking over at Sam. The gleam in his eye was nice to see. “What is that naughty mind thinking?” Sam asked. Wetting his lips. A shiver ran down my spine. “My naughty mind has a lot of thoughts right now.” Brows raised, and a smirk on Sams face “Are you suggesting that I bend you over this bed, and fuck you till you can’t breathe.” Sam says

His cocky tone and dominating statute of his now broad shoulders. It shocked me how quickly Sam could go from this sweet natured boy, to this rough and tough man who’s willing to have you fucked good all while screaming his name.

“I bet you would wake Dean up.” Sam says getting up from the edge of the bed. Kicking off his boots, and standing with his hands on his hips. “Come on sweet girl, let’s stand up and do a twirl.” Sam said putting out his hand letting me use him for assistance. “Okay.” I said, taking his outreached hand.

I stood up doing a tiny spin with our hands still connected. A satisfied hum comes from Sam's lip. “Beautiful as always.” He says, “Now if you don’t mind sweetie. I’ll either be ripping off these clothes, or you can of course save them.” Sam said, Winking as he walked around me. The alpha feeling is just oozy from every pore of Sam Winchester.

I start to strip, firstly kicking off my shoes, starting then on my shirt. Noticing only now that my shirt was almost two times bigger than my actual frame is. He stops standing in front of me, staring at my now exposed skin, mostly at my breasts.

“Look at you.” Not doing anything other than just speaking to me. He starts to circle me again, I continue. Leaving myself in my panites, “You my dear are magnificent.” He says, reaching over and dragging his rough palm over my side, and down to my panties.

“But I wonder how much sexier you’d look beggin for my cock, yes?” He asks, I hum, “Words love.” The feeling of his hand on my hip, and deep voice has been fuzzy as he starts to squeeze at my flesh. “Words.” It vibrates in my head, “Yes, sir.” The happy expression on his face only reinforces my words. “Sir? That’s new, but I like it.” Sam says.

Pushing us back towards the bed's edge. Once the back of my knees hit the bed's edge I buckle falling against the soft cool sheets. “You know, I think I may just tease you all night long.” I shake my head violently, the wet feeling between my legs only starting to grow more, as I see the bulge growing in Sam's pants.

Squeezing my thighs together wasn’t the best way to distract me from the growing wetness. Sam of course notices my slight change of facial expression. Looking down at my exposed body. “Are you?” He says moving his other hand down from my belly to the top of my panties, taunting me.

I shake my head again, pleading had never been my thing, but something about this citation, something about him made me willing to try so many new things. All because of those eyes. “Please, Sam.. Don’t do that, I’m already a mess over here.” I said, trying to rub my thigh together to get the friction I so desperately wanted.

“I think I should drag your panties to the side, and let you take me all the way.” I’m not up for fighting with Sam on what he wants to do. All I want is his cock in me, I just want to feel the pleasure of him. “No reply, I’ll take that has a no.” I speak up immeadtly “No, Sir.. I would want nothing more then your cock deep inside me. I wanna melt into you.” I start to ramble on, but he hushes me putting his fingers up to my lips.

“You slow down sweetie, don’t wanna get yourself going before I can even get a chance.” Sam says, unzipping his jeans, kicking them off just like his boots. Leaving him in just his boxers. The tent that seemed small only a few moments ago is much larger now. “What are you looking at naughty girl?” He questions. I swallow, “Nothing, sir.” I reply. He taunts, reaching and grabbing at my chin forcing me to look at him. Eye to eye.

“Don’t lie now. You wouldn’t want to edge you and never let you release now would you?” Sam asks, I shake my head, “No, sir.” “Good girl.” Sam retorts, letting my chin go, my head falling back on the soft bed underneath me. He leans back, looking at my shivering body. Dropping his boxers from his body, I do a double take, “You never do manage to remember just how big my cock is.” Sam says, pushing my panites to the side and lining up.

And just like that Sam is inches deep in me. Pulling back, and letting me moan out the full feeling he’s giving me. “I always forget just how tight you really are baby.” Sam comments taking the first few thrusts slowly. Letting my body get comfortable and used to his large size.

Once he feels like I’m ready enough, his slow speed stops completely, and he’s rough, and much faster. One of his rough hands falling and following up the valley of my shaking breasts while the other stays put on my shaking hips.

I never catch my release, as I’m awoken by the intense feeling of being watched. I wake from what i know realized was a dream “Fuck Me!” I scream, as my thighs rub together under the sheets I notice how real the dream had made me feel.

“I gladly will, but I thought watching you squirm under those sheets would be a better scene.” I hear a familiar voice say under the shadows of my bedroom. Frustration is covered up by the intense feeling of paranoia, and being scared shitless.

‘Oh sweetie, I know you’re scared, but you might wanna take a second and close your eyes. You know me more than you may think.” The voice is right, they do sound so familiar, and I’m not scared more as I am turned on.

“I’ve been dreaming about you for the past few weeks, no other dreams besides you Y/n. You and I wrapped in sheets together.” The voice says again. He inches closer so I can see clearly now. It’s the shaggy brown hair, the tall broad shoulders, that dizzying scent that circles him.

“Are you? Sam?” It sort of just falls out of my mouth. My grip on my sheets is so strong that I can feel my nails on the other side. “Yes sweetie?” He answers. He gets closer and tries not to shake, but it’s too hard not too. I start and end up stumbling over my words.

“So.. you… are you… What’s going on?” That’s all I can get out just as he sits down at the edge of my bed. “Well I would say that I’m not fictional, but sounds something more like my brother would say, so I ‘ll say this, that dream you were having. Hopefully the one of me pumping you full of my cock… We can always try and make that reality, not just a dream.” He says, his hand coming in view of my sight.

I bite my lip, a shiver running down my spine. “Nothing beats the real thing I guess.” I say, A loud chuckle comes from him. Just like in my dream, “Are you up for another round, after seeing you shake like that I’d say dream me did you good for round one.” He comments, I can’t no, at least now that i know that Sam fucking Winchester is real.

I shake my head, reality going to my head, and maybe more places. “Good choice doll, now let go of that sheet, I wanna see you for real this time.” A wink and he’s torn the covers from my aching hand.

Completed on: 09/06/2021

Posted on: 09/07/2021

Stanford Tag List: @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop//@wonderfulworldofwinchester//@stoneyggirl2//@samsgirl93//@flamencodiva//@rach-12

#sam winchester x platonic!reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester series #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernaturalagnst #supernatualfluff #supernatural imagine #supernaturalsmut #supernatural one shot #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn smut #spn tag #spn fanfic #spn fluff #spn #spnfandom #spn crack #spnfamily #spn one shot #spn fanfiction #smut talk #supernatural smut

[wooyunhwa]

𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 | 𝑱𝒀

Genre: smut

Pairing: Yunho x fem reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings:  very dom!yunho, power dynamic, size kink, corruption kink kind of?, sex with your boss, choking, crying, rough sex, mentions of pain. 

Synopsis: When the heartless boss at your company pulls you into his office for the second time, you prepare to be fired. But he has other plans for you...

Tall, dark, handsome.

Those were the three words you would use to describe him. Sure, they were cliche, but they had never applied to anyone else like they did to him. There was only one problem -- he was your boss. Also… he seemed to hate you. 

Power dynamics had always appealed to you. You were turned on by the idea of control, and he had the most.

On the outside, you looked innocent. You made it a point to dress nicely every day, and your style of choice was soft, sweet, and girly. You wouldn’t say you were that innocent, although your previous sexual experiences had been less that gratifying, and almost excruciatingly vanilla.

Everyone in the office feared him, and you were no exception. Being called into his office was the worst thing anyone could imagine. You and your coworkers would joke around: “You better not take an extra minute on your lunch today, or Yunho will call you into his office.” There was a saying in your department, that if he called you in, you wouldn’t make it out. 

You had been called in once. You were reprimanded harshly about a mistake you made on an important document you had submitted. He was harsh, cold, and his deep voice sent shivers down your spine. You thought he was going to fire you on the spot that day. Instead, to your surprise, he let you go. You remember the fear you felt, the anxiety, and most of all you remember the feeling of his gaze on your back as he watched you leave his office. You were humiliated. Ever since that day, you avoided eye contact with him completely. Most people around the office did, anyway.

But that fear made your attraction to him even greater. You couldn’t explain it, but the taboo of it all was appealing to you. It didn’t matter though. You were convinced he hated you, you were just another disposable girl right out of college he could use for a while, and then fire without warning. There was no way anything ever would happen between you, but you couldn’t help but daydream at your desk about the things he could do to you. 

It was Friday, and you were sitting at your desk, watching the clock move slowly. Only 10 minutes to weekend freedom, you thought. The idea washed you over with relief.

The rest of your coworkers had dressed casually today, as they usually did on Fridays, but you were in your usually extra outfit -- a pleated skirt that fell above your knees, a cute blouse with lace trim, and a sweet bow tying your hair up out of your face. You had perfected the balance between cute and professional. Your co-workers sometimes teased you for how you dressed, your cutesy style drawing attention to how small you were. You were often mistaken for younger than you actually were because of it, but you didn’t mind too much. 

Yunho would usually make his rounds around the office to wish everyone a good weekend. It was something he did every Friday, the only day of the week he seemed to have a glimmer of humanity. Regardless, everyone was on edge as he paced through the workspace. 5 minutes left in the day, yet everyone would dig into their work and try to look as busy as possible, fearing punishment if they slacked off.

As he approached your desk, he stopped there for an unusually long amount of time, looming silently. You kept your eyes forward, not daring to acknowledge him before he spoke to you. 

He cleared his throat. “Y/N,” he started. He never used the names of his employees, unless he was reprimanding them, and even then, he rarely did so in front of the whole office. Your name rolling off his tongue made you freeze. 

Fuck, fuck, what did I do? Your mind was in a frenzy. You looked up at him, eyes wide, trembling with anxiety. You probably looked like a deer in headlights. 

He flashed you a smile, and you couldn’t comprehend it. You’d never seen him smile. You couldn’t read it -- was it sinister, or was it genuine? “No need to work so hard,” he said, the words dripping off his tongue smoothly. His deep voice was one of the most attractive things about him. You swallowed, quickly exiting out of your document. “It’s Friday.” You swallowed. “Yes, sir, sorry. I just wanted to get this proposal finished before I left.”

“Mhm…” he leaned his back against your desk, making piercing eye contact. You couldn’t help but glance down at the suit he was wearing. He looked incredible in it... He was so tall and lean, and his perfectly tailored suit accentuated that. You two looked out of place in the office today, the only two who weren’t dressed casually. He towered over you even when you were standing, but especially now, as you had to practically tip your head 90 degrees to meet his gaze. He tapped his fingers on your desk. “Why don’t you see me in my office before you go, okay?” 

You gulped. Those were words you never wanted to hear. “Y-yes sir,” you stammered. He turned his back and walked out into the hallway. You didn’t realize it, but you had been nearly holding your breath for the entire encounter, and as he left, you exhaled in relief, only forgetting for a second what he had asked.

Your coworker made eye contact from across the desk. “Holy fuck, Y/N, what was that?”

“I don’t know…” you responded, still shaken from your interaction.

As you gathered your things and made your way to his office, you mentally prepared to be fired. One time in his office wasn’t too bad, but two? You were toast for sure. 

You made a few quick knocks before entering the room meekly, head down. You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact. He was standing behind his desk, tapping his fingers on the wood expectantly. He gestured you over with a finger. Legs wobbly, you made your way over. You expected him to start scolding you, but instead…

“Why do you always dress like that?” he asked. You stopped in your tracks.

Huh? Did you hear him right? “Like- like what sir?”

“So cute. So innocent. Are you trying to tease me?” His voice was firm, and you felt the heat of his gaze on you.

You were taken aback. “No, sir, I-I just like dressing like this,” you stammered. You weren’t sure how to respond. Teasing him? 

He took one step closer to you, closing the distance, and tipped your chin up until you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “You walk around here looking so cute, so innocent, it drives me crazy,” he growled. His voice was lowered even deeper than usual. He looked angry. “Ignoring eye contact, teasing me… I won’t take it.”

“I swear, I’m not trying to tease you. I thought- I thought you hated me. That’s why I avoid eye contact,” your voice was shaky. Your mind was spinning - was this really happening? Did your boss, the one you feared and yet dreamed about, the one you fantasized about, the one you couldn’t help but picture fucking the life out of you… did he just admit to being attracted to you?

He pushed back, his eyes still boring holes in you. “If you can tell me honestly that you’re not attracted to me, that you haven’t been teasing me, I’ll let this go, and I’ll never bother you about it again,” he said, his voice softer now. “But if you can’t…”

“I-” you started, but paused. You contemplated lying. You contemplated saying you’d never thought about it. “I… I can’t tell you that I’ve never thought about you in that way.” You couldn’t believe you were telling him this. 

He leaned his butt up against his desk, and you raised your gaze to meet his. God, he looked so good in that suit. 

“I know everyone here fears me,” he started, “but I’m not a monster...” You couldn’t help but scoff a bit under your breath. He sure did act like one. There wasn’t a soul around the office who didn’t view him as any less than a heartless villain. “Unless you want me to be.” Before you could react to his words, he was in front of you, pinning you against the edge of his desk. You looked around nervously, worried someone was going to see you “Don’t worry,” he assured, leaning closer. “Everyone else is already gone.”

Your legs tensed up from under you, and suddenly you felt dampness pooling between your legs. His sudden display of control had your head spinning. He brought his thumb up to your mouth, wiping it gently across your lips, sending a chill down your spine. He had you completely pinned under him, his other hand pressed flat on the desk for stability. You could feel his dick through his suit, pressing against your body. 

Was this really happening? Was this another one of your dreams about him? If it was, you were completely lucid.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said firmly, as you watched lust grow in his eyes. It was a statement, not a question. You had ample room to protest, but you didn’t. You wanted this even more than he knew.

His lips collided with yours and you took in his taste. He tasted better than you could have ever imagined, and his lips were even softer than they looked. You made out for a good while, passion escalating as your bodies moved and ground against each other. 

He hoisted you up onto his desk to get a better angle on you, pushing himself between your legs, and you felt the bulge in his suit grow against you. He hadn’t even undressed yet, and you could already tell he was huge. He had discarded his suit jacket already, now only left in his well fitted button down and pants, waist cinched in beautifully by his belt. 

He started pulling your clothes off between kisses as he made his way down your neck: first your shirt, your skirt, your bra. His kisses were hungry, desperate, and he went in on your breasts, sucking and licking at your nipples as he moved a hand to your panties. His thumb made circles on your soaked-through panties, and you moaned at the sudden stimulation.

“I can’t wait to ruin you...” he moaned against the skin of your chest, finally pulling off your panties to reveal you fully. He toyed his fingers on the folds of your pussy, testing your wetness, and circling his thumb now on your clit. He knew exactly what he was doing with his fingers, and he inserted two inside of you as he continued to mark your breasts. “So pretty, so innocent,” he breathed against your skin. The warmth of his breath felt so good in the chilly air of his office. 

His long fingers took care of the inside of you while his thumb continued to circle your clit, eliciting squeaks and moans as you started to build to your climax. Before you could go over the edge, he stopped the movement of his fingers, pulling out of you. He knelt down between your legs, admiring you for a moment before slowly swiping his tongue, lapping up wetness. His tongue was everything you ever dreamed about and more, and without much effort on his part, he sent you over the edge, your hips involuntarily bucking up into his face. You felt his lips inch into a wicked smile. “You look so cute when you’re cumming,” he praised. His sweet words felt so contrasted against the lustful look in his eye, and the rough way he handled you.

He pulled back to unbutton his shirt, revealing his figure. His chest glistened lightly with sweat. He always wore well-fitting clothes, so you knew he was fit… but his body was even more incredible than you could have dreamed of. He started to unbuckle his belt, and when he pulled down his pants to reveal his cock, you nearly choked. It was huge. Scary big. There was no way that was going to fit. He must have watched your eyes widen, because his lips twitched up into a devilish grin. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he comforted, “I’m sure you can take it.” 

He positioned himself between your legs, preparing himself with your wetness. You thought he was going to go slow… you were so tiny in comparison to him, and his dick was bigger than you had ever experienced. Instead, he shoved himself in without any warning, leaving you crying out in surprise. You were wet, sure, but that did little to help you take his girth. Not to mention his length...

He brought his large hand up to your throat, easily wrapping his fingers around, applying gentle pressure as he bottomed out inside of you. Your brain didn’t know what to focus on -- his grip tightening around your neck, making your vision go fuzzy, or the pain of his dick inside you stretching you out to your limit. God, he was huge, and you couldn’t believe he even made it inside. 

He squeezed his long fingers around your neck tighter, and for a moment you were certain you were going to lose consciousness. You scrambled to pull his hand from your throat, tears welling up in your eyes, mind starting to fade out of reality. You were released from your high as he loosened his grip, and you sputtered and coughed as involuntary tears spilled down your cheeks.

He hadn’t even moved yet inside of you; instead he sat there, hips flush with yours, torturing you. The hand that had been glued to your neck like a vice moved to the cup under your chin, pulling your gaze to meet his. 

“You look like a mess,” he cooed. His words were harsh, but his voice was like honey. “You look so pretty when you cry.” He swiped the back of his hand across your face, smearing your tears across your cheek. Still pushed deep inside of you, he leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on your jaw, tasting the saltwater off your skin. 

Without warning, he took an aggressive thrust inside of you, causing you to cry out. “Shh, shh, angel,” he shushed sweetly, stroking your hair softly. “I know you can take it.” You loved when he the way he talked to you, soothed you. Something about his words and his tone of voice were so comforting despite the less-than-gentle way he handled you.

“You’re so big- it hurts- I’ve never-- ah-” he thrusted in again, and tears again spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t tell if the pain was overwhelming the pleasure, or the pleasure overwhelming the pain. 

“You know you can tell me if you want me to stop.” Another hard thrust. You let out a choked moan, unable to control the noises you were making. 

“No, no, I want this,” you persisted. You could take whatever he had for you. You had been dreaming of fucking him since the moment you saw him, and you weren’t going to let a bit of pain come in the way of your opportunity.

He pulled out of you suddenly, filling you with emptiness, and you let out a gasp. He grabbed you haphazardly and flipped you over on to your stomach, easily maneuvering your body with his large hands, like a toy. You were draped over the desk like a doll. He grabbed your hips and pulled them against his.. His hands took their time positioning on your hips, and he seemed to be admiring the view he had. “So tiny…” he mused, admiring the small of your waist from this angle. “I could destroy you.” 

You shivered. His words felt like a threat, and yet you welcomed the thought of him ruining you. 

This time he entered you slowly -- almost too slowly. It was torturous as he took his time, and it wasn’t any easier the second time for his dick to spread you open. He pumped shallowly, tracing his fingers along the skin of your back and sides. It tickled, and you couldn’t help but squirm and giggle a bit, letting your guard down. 

That’s when he made his move. He thrusted into you even harder than before, causing you to yelp. “Sir- ah-” you moaned, giving in to the pain a bit. One of his hands came to grip your hair from behind, tugging your head back as he thrust into you deeply, finally getting into a rhythm with his hips. The pain subsided as he pumped in and out, and your pleasured moans harmonized with his throaty grunts as you moved together. You felt barely in control of your own vocal cords, every so often choking out a “fuck”, “please don’t stop”, or crying out his name.

His hips against your ass made a loud slapping sound with every thrust. From this angle you could feel every inch of him fully inside you, scraping against your tight walls. The sensations seemed to have doubled. “You're so tight,” he growled, his breathing getting heavier, approaching his climax. He delivered a final thrust before pulling out, and you felt warm liquid spill onto your back as he came. You immediately collapsed your upper body onto the desk, your legs barely holding you up. 

He lifted you off the desk easily in a bridal hold position and laid you down on the couch in the corner of his office. He left briefly for the bathroom and came back with a few paper towels to wipe you off with, singing you sweet praises as he took care of you. His voice again was sweet, smooth like honey. “What a good girl you were,” he said softly, leaning up to your ear. He lowered his voice into a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “Next time we can see how pretty you look choking on my cock.”

All you could do was nod wordlessly. You were breathless, eyes heavy, succumbing to the darkness beneath your lids. You thought about trying to get up, as you weren’t really keen to the idea of falling asleep in the office, but there was no way you’d be able to stand on your feet, let alone drive home. You felt him draw a blanket over you, covering you in much needed warmth. “I’ll see you on Monday,” he whispered into your ear as you drifted off. “The keys out of the building are on the desk.” And with that, the world fell away.

#yunho smut #seonghwa smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #ateez smut #ateez fic #smut #kpop smut #had to repost bc tags weren't working

[hoboal87]

Carry On

Pairing : Sam x Reader, Platonic!Dean x Reader

Summary : One year after defeating Chuck, Sam and Dean are still hunting, but you’ve quit the life. When the boys take a vacation that quickly turns into a hunt, none of you expect it to change your lives forever.

Characters : Y/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, mentions of Bobby, Jody, Donna and the Girls

Word Count : 3.1k (I tried to keep it below 3k, but...😕)

Warnings : SPOILERS FOR 15X20, Angst, Feels, Fluff (it gets a little gross at the end), A Sprinkling of Pre-Smut, Pregnancy

A/N : This will keep the canon of the finale, and takes place during and after 15x20, but with an added reader insert. This was written as a sequel to “The Tie” but can be read as a stand-alone.

A/N 2 : This is my entry for @negans-lucille-tblr “6k Roll the Dice Challenge.” My prompt is “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace,” which is bolded.

No Beta, all mistakes are my own.

Check out my Masterlist here

You pull another book down from the library wall; everything has been relatively quiet since Jack took over Heaven, Rowena has put a leash on the demons, the only monsters you and the boys had to worry about were run-of-the-mill, so to speak. Adjusting to this new life is easier than you thought it would be, using the last year to learn that without the necessity to hunt, you and Sam were finally free to live your own lives. After Chuck was rendered powerless, you decided to give up hunting for good. Sam won't, you know that, Sam and Dean had been hunting their whole lives, but you were thrust into the life.

You make your way back towards your shared room with Sam, twirling the small diamond ring on your finger, passing Dean’s along the way. You peer inside, glad to see that the once mass trove of empty beer and whiskey bottles were gone. Sure, there’s still a few bottles strewn throughout the room, but nothing like it was before. In the months following Cas’ death, Dean had been a shell of himself, drinking himself into an early grave. He never told you or Sam exactly how Cas summoned the empty, or why it took him along with Billie. Dean always kept himself bottled up, until he would explode, letting his grief out by way of yelling and screaming. Cas’ trench was usually hanging in the corner, but it wasn’t there now, Dean must’ve taken it with him. Dean was still in pain, that much was clear.

Sam and Dean are off at some pie fest, and you opted to stay behind. You waved the boys off, asking Dean to eat a pie just for you. Sam and Dean needed this; brother time. It was something that rarely happened since you joined them over five years ago, even before you were with Sam, you, Cas or Jack were always tagging along. You saw it as the perfect opportunity to take some time for yourself as well, figuring out where you and Sam would go from here. Sam talked about going back to school, finishing his degree and applying to Law School again, he even had you buy him books on LSAT prep. You talked at length about taking the next steps in your relationship, you couldn’t ever get legally married, but you starting planning a ceremony anyway. Before Chuck was gone, you were content to just be, never needing more, afraid that it would be ripped out from under you the minute you let your guard down.

As you settle into your and Sam’s bed, book in hand, you feel as the weight that’s been sitting on your chest has finally lifted, you can breathe. It's been years since you've been able to truly relax, and as much fun as a pie fest sounded, you wanted to stay at the bunker, taking comfort in your and Sam's shared room. They’d only been gone a few days, but you already missed Sam terribly, pathetic, you know. Never in your life would you have imagined wanting and needing someone like you did Sam. The next morning you wake up to a text from Sam. The brothers mini-vacation quickly turned into a vampire hunt, a nest John had hunted years ago. The boys could handle it, you know that much, it's a milk run compared to everything they've fought over the years. Be Safe, Love You. You responded and went on with your day.

Sam always keeps you in the loop when he and Dean go on a hunt without you, providing you with a source of comfort knowing that they’ve killed the bad guy or solved the mystery. But now, they’ve been silent for too long, a nest of Vamps shouldn’t take more than a few days, and you start to worry. You’re heading towards the garage, determined to track down Sam and Dean, and lay it on thick about how worried you were when they went silent. You’re about to open the door to the garage when it swings open and Sam’s long body fills the frame. It startles you at first, even causing Miracle to bark in surprise. You throw your arms around Sam, all anger gone now that he’s back home with you.

“Don’t ever do that again!” You scold Sam. “You know how much I hate it when you and Dean stop responding.” You want to be mad, but you’re so focused on the fact that Sam’s back home with you again, that nothing else seems to matter. “If you’re gonna keep hunting you have to keep me in the loop,” you mumble.

Sam’s body stiffens against your touch. It takes him a minute, but he reciprocates your hug, pulling you tight against him. You stand there, waiting for some smart remark from Dean, normally barking at the two of you to get a room, but there’s nothing but the echo of the Impala’s engine filling the air. You try to pull away from Sam, but his grip around you only tightens, this hunt must have been more difficult than he or Dean anticipated. Head pressed against Sam’s chest, you can hear his heart thumping loudly and rapidly. Dean would never let you and Sam hold on to each other as long as you have.

“Sammy?” You whisper, trying to pull away again. Sam’s grip finally loosens, but his hands don’t leave you as you take a small step back. Your eyes travel upwards, finally landing on Sam’s face, his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, almost as if he has been crying. “Sam? What’s wrong?”

Sam shakes his head as tears fill his eyes.

“Where’s Dean?” You ask as you watch Sam slowly break down. His head nods towards the Impala, and you pull away completely from Sam’s embrace.

You run towards the Impala as fast as your legs can carry you, a swing open the back door, hoping to see Dean’s shining emerald eyes. Tears blur your vision faster than you can comprehend what you’re seeing. Dean’s lifeless body lays in the back seat, all color drained from him. You scan him desperately, waiting for some kind of sign that this is all a cruel prank, that he and Sam were trying to get one over you for not coming with them on this hunt.

But, there’s nothing.

You scream out, falling to your knees, Dean was just as much your brother as he was Sam’s, he was your best friend, and now, he’s gone. Your cries fill the otherwise silent garage, he can’t be dead, not like this, not on some vampire hunt, something he’s done a hundred times before. Not when you know that he was looking to settle down, find some normalcy, or at least normal for him. He deserved to live, he didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a monster.

Dean wasn’t going to be there when you and Sam got married, when you told Sam about the baby you were carrying. God, how were you going to tell him that? Dean was going to help you surprise Sam, as soon as they came home, he was going to start dropping hints, see how long it took Sam to figure it out. But now, you stared at his body, tearing streaming down your face, you couldn’t stop crying if you wanted to. Sam’s strong arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, and you both sit on the floor, unable to do anything but mourn the loss of the elder Winchester.

Through your sobs, you can hear Sam trying to offer you some comfort, assuring you that he went down saving the victims. You could barely process anything he was saying, and if this is how you felt, you can’t even begin to imagine how he feels. Dean was the only real family that Sam had left, there had to be a way to get him back.

“No, baby,” Sam murmurs in your ear through his tears, “I promised him. No bringing him back.” You didn’t realize you had said it out loud. “He wants us to keep going, he wants us to live.”

Three days later you’re surrounded by all the family you’d gained through the boys. Jody, Donna, Claire, Bobby and Charlie plus too many people to keep track of. You and Sam had already given Dean his proper send-off, dividing his ashes between the graveyard where Mary and John were buried and keeping the rest for yourselves. Jody told the story of the first time she’d met the brothers over ten years ago and how she’d come to think of the boys as surrogate sons. Claire talked about the time she and Dean went mini-golfing and how offended he was when she didn’t understand his Caddyshack references. The bunker was full laughter, it was Dean told you he wanted all those years ago.

You and Sam couldn’t stay in the Bunker after that. You’d left it open to all hunters, you’d still come back occasionally, but it was no longer home. You and Sam packed up most of your and Dean’s things, fitting as much as you could into the Impala, knowing that the two rooms would always be off limits to future hunters. Sam nearly slides into the passenger seat when you leave, and you can see it hitting him all over again. Dean’s gone.

You drive around the country for a few weeks, unsure of where to make your new home. Neither of you ever had a real home before moving into the Bunker, and you were the only family you had left now. You settle in Sioux Falls, Jody and the girls were there, Donna was close enough, and if need be, you could be back in Lebanon in a matter of 5 hours.

You find a small house close to where Bobby’s used to be, it is still a salvage yard, but Bobby’s house is long gone. As the weeks pass you don’t know how much longer you can keep your pregnancy hidden from Sam. Every time you try to tell him, it feels wrong; you are both still grieving the loss of Dean, and Sam has fallen into a deep depression. You have Jody take you to your doctor appointments, and she scolds you for not telling Sam, but when she drops you at your new home, and sees the current state of Sam, she backs off.

At your next appointment, she laughs and cries with you when you learn that you were carrying a boy, Dean. When you first told Dean that you were pregnant, he immediately insisted that the newest Winchester should be named after him, “boy or girl!” He insisted, “I’m named after a Deanna.”

“I think the world only needs one Dean Winchester,” you retorted playfully. Now, it seems the perfect way to carry on Dean’s legacy.

When you leave the doctors, you finally realize how obvious it is that you’re pregnant, your stomach rounding out perfectly under your shirt. You’re almost insulted that Sam hasn’t noticed your ever-growing stomach and the extra pounds you’ve put on over the last month, but he hasn't been himself since Dean died. You hadn’t been intimate with him since you settled into your new house, and he spends most of his day sleeping or in a fugue-like state.

Jody insists on taking you shopping for baby supplies, and by the end you’ve got a shopping cart onesies, blankets, something called a diaper genie, and many other things you didn’t even know you needed. As you walk through the store an iron-on name display catches your eye, and you make your way towards it. The names are written in large cursive lettering, and you hope that you can find the right one. You nearly squeal when you do, and find a plain onesie to attach it to.

You’re glad that the baby store carries labeless bags, especially when Sam is up and about when you get home. He looks good today, he’s slightly sweaty, and you know that he left the house and went for a run. He greets you with a quick kiss, a sheen of sweat covering his face, and makes for your room. He eyes the bags in your hands, but doesn’t say anything, and a few minutes later you can hear the shower running. Thank God, you sigh and take the bags into an empty room, Miracle following closely behind you. You set the bags down in what will be baby Dean’s nursery, Jody’s right, you think, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

You find the onesie and the iron-on decal, you place it in the center and carefully attach the decal. After letting it cool you tuck it into a small gift bag. You hear the shower turn off, and make your way back into your bedroom, placing the bag on your bedside table, waiting for Sam to exit the bathroom. You can’t help but stare at him appreciatively when he opens the door, a towel wrapped around his waist. You’re suddenly very aware of how long it's been since you’d been with him. Sam catches you eyeing him, and smirks, sending a jolt straight down to your core. You missed this, not just the sex, but how he takes charge with you, his domineering presence making you melt. He leans over you, and places a tender yet eager kiss on your lips.

You reach for the towel, letting it slide onto the floor as Sam deepens the kiss, and start to work him over in your hands. Sam groans at your touch, and starts to pull at your shirt, pulling his face away just long enough to rid you of it. Sam’s lips are back on yours just as quickly as they were gone. His hands palm at your breasts, and you moan into his hands reach into the overflowing cups, you really loved your pregnancy boobs, but your bras were doing very little to keep them in place. Sam’s hands travel to your back, and undos your bra, letting your breasts fall free. Sam finally opens his eyes when his hands land on your protruding stomach and takes a few steps back.

He quickly pulls on a pair of sweatpants as you pull your shirt back over your head, trying you best not to cry as he starts pacing the floor of your bedroom. You wait for him to say something, anything; you weren’t trying when you realized you were pregnant. You’d just gone off your birth control, and everyone told you it would take at least a few months for your body to get back to its natural cycle. You both knew it was possible but figured you’d have at least 6 months before really actively trying for a baby.

Sam’s face is almost unreadable; you can’t tell if he’s happy or mad, if he’ll tell you it’s too soon, that he’s not ready. He opens and closes his mouth multiple times, as if he can’t figure out what to say. If Dean were here, he’d probably knock him upside his head, telling him this exactly what he’s always wanted.

“How– why–” Sam stammers as you move to the edge of the bed. “Are you– You’re pregnant.” He says it almost as if it’s a question and you nod your head. “How long?” There’s almost an accusation in his voice, you’re sure it’s not intentional, but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

“18 weeks,” you murmur, trying to hold back your tears. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but it’s– it never seemed to be the right time. When you and Dean–” Sam winces at the mention of Dean’s name, you hadn’t said it out loud in almost a month, not since you left the Bunker. “I found out right before you left, I was going to tell you when you got back. But… after… I was afraid that you’d say it wasn’t the right time. That it was too soon.”

“It is too soon,” Sam mutters under his breath, you’re sure it’s not meant to be malicious, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You said it would take at least 6 months.”

“It’s different for everyone,” you offer, as Sam runs his hands through his hair, still pacing in front of you. “Please, Sam, can you sit down? You’re freaking me out.” Sam moves to the edge of the bed, and sits down next to you.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sam whispers, eyeing your belly. “I don’t know how– I don’t know how to be a dad.”

“Yes, you do,” you grab his hand, and place it on your belly. “Dean taught you everything you would ever need to know.”

Sam smiles sadly, “I ever tell you about the night I left for Stanford?” You shake your head. “Dad and me, we got into this huge fight. So of course, Dean steps in– gets between us, attempts to calm us, but we were both just– just too fucking stubborn to listen.” He removes his hand, focusing down on them as he fidgets. “When dad said don’t come back, I called his bluff, and I was– I was so pissed at Dean, I thought he was taking Dad’s side, that I didn’t even say bye to him. I didn’t have it myself to go with grace. I walked away from him, the only family that I had, and I regretted it for years. I- I feel like he should be the one here, that- that we’re moving on too quickly.”

“Dean, he– he wouldn’t want you, us, to live like this, we owe it to him to keep fighting, to live our lives. I know how much you miss him,” a tear slips from Sam’s eye. “I miss him too, but you know what keeps me going everyday?” Sam shakes his head, and you take his hand in yours again, and place it back on the swell of your belly just as little Dean decides to kick for the first time. The smile on Sam’s face is instant, you can’t stop the happy tears from falling as Sam shifts in front of you, and lays his head on your swollen stomach. “Our son.”

Sam cries, truly cries for the first time since the day he brought home Dean’s body. You hold him against you, he’s been so pent up for the last 3 months, bottling up his emotions, he needs this, you both do. You’d been so focused on the baby growing inside of you never realized that you hadn’t realized that Sam had never come to terms with Dean’s death.

“It’s a boy?” Sam asks as his cries cease. “We’re having a son?”

“We’re having a son,” you nod, and hand Sam the gift bag still sitting on your bedside table.

Sam opens the bag, and you smile as he pulls out the green onesie, his eyes lighting up as he reads the lettering.

“You’re sure?” He questions.

“The world lost one Dean Winchester, let’s give it another.”

Please give let me know what you think! Reblog or send an ask

Forever Tags:

@that-one-gay-girl​

@akshi8278​

#bees6krollthedicechallenge #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural spoilers #supernatural fic #spn family #pregnant reader #supernatural #daddy!Sam

[stevesharrlngtons]

what i want.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: takes place in s1 of hemlock grove just after roman’s coma and the aftermath.  

word count: 3.1k

a/n: yeaaahhhh so i know this is st related but it felt more right to post this here over my marvel account? anyways, i just really really wanted to write for roman and this poured out of me yesterday (which is surprising bc i can’t remember the last time i wrote a fic all in one day) but even though i already know this is gonna flop, i wanted to post it anyway just for fun (: i hope you enjoy and if you do read, please let me know that you think!!!!

With an ear pressed to his chest and a hand cradling his neck, you counted the rhythmic beats of his frail heart.

He looked the same, felt the same, smelt the same; but the man we lay still below you wasn’t Roman. Not in the metaphorical sense at least. This man who’s lashes lay gently against the apples of his cheeks obscuring his large doe eyes, wasn’t your love. He was still and quiet and lacked the emotion of your Roman. Your Roman who could never hide how he really felt, who wore every feeling on his sleeve, unable to mask his emotion.

At least, always around you.

A soft french ballad played in the background as you hunched over his hospital bed in the attic of the Godfrey home. You could hear the faint scratch of the needle against the vinyl, more so when there was a lull between songs.

Heavy footsteps entered from your right and you knew before they reached you that it was Shelly to fetch you for school.

“I know, Shell.” You said quietly, like you might wake Roman from his restless sleep if you spoke any louder, “I just need a few more minutes with him.”

The tall girl loomed over you both, watching you stroke Roman’s cheek lovingly with your thumb, the rest of your nimble fingers still holding his thin neck.

She had never experienced the kind of unequivocal and palpable love that she did when she observed you and Roman together. She often wondered if all the tales of true love and soulmates that were regaled in some of her favorite novels were actually true? Because the way you looked at Roman, and the way Roman looked at you, could not be fabricated or faked.

After a long beat of silence, Shelly gripped her phone and typed out a simple message to you.

“I miss him, too.”

She could see tears forming in your eyes once more. Your eyes that seemed to have not ceased their perpetual filming for the last two weeks Roman had been under.

All you could was nod in response. When Shelly placed a dense hand on your shoulder, you silently wept.

It all felt so surreal. But Roman was always larger than life, you probably should have prepared for something like this. You were just so scared.

That night two weeks before, when he had come to you in the pouring rain, drenched to the bone, you had been scared then, too. Roman was dramatic, yes. But never anything like this. He trembled fiercely and his fingers twitched and his muscles rippled with fear.

He didn’t seem himself as you wrapped him in blankets and placed him in your bed to warm his icy bones. You had wound your arms around him as he cried into your neck, tears and snot streaking your skin as you soothed him the best you could.

“I’m ugly, I’m a monster, I am unlovable and disgusting.” He chanted between hiccups and deep intakes of breath, like he was under a spell.

“Please stop, please don’t say that. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not. I love you, I always will.” You whispered sincerely to him, beginning to shutter yourself at the uncharatieric behavior he was displaying.

He startled you even more when he grasped your wrists together with one hand and flipped you onto your back, meeting you with a fierce kiss before you could comprehend his actions.

It was all teeth and tongue and labored breathing as Roman pulled your strings in only the way that he could. Once he was inside you, he only became more brutal. It was more pain than pleasure as he looked at you with soulless eyes and his mouth agape. But everything Roman was, was good. Even now he felt like heaven.

When he had finished and pulled two orgasms from your body, he collapsed on top of you. You cocooned him with your limbs, whispering loving words and frightened questions as his body seemed to pass out from sheer emotional exhaustion, anchoring you beneath him.

The next morning, you were dressed in nothing but Roman’s cardigan and tucked underneath your duvet with no knowledge of his departure the night before.

It was only minutes after you woke that Olivia called to curtly inform you of Roman’s condition.

You placed your own hand, the one not holding Roman, over Shelly’s and squeezed it.

“He is so lucky to have you.” You said, swallowing thickly to look up and give Shelly a smile, “He loves you so much, I know he’ll wake just for you.”

Shelly knew you were trying to soothe her as well, something you had a knack for since you came into the two Godfrey’s lives. She appreciated it greatly, but wished you would let yourself swim and stop trying to make sure she stayed afloat.

“You, as well. He will wake for us.” Shelly typed and you squeezed her hand in a tight pulse.

“We can only hope.”

You dropped Shelly’s hand as she went to turn the music off while you kissed Roman goodbye.

“Where, today?” Came Shelly’s mechanical voice as the music ceased.

“His left eyelid.” You replied, standing up and stroking Roman’s porecelain cheek.

You had taken to kissing a new part of Roman each day as you left him. To cherish him even while his mind was missing. You were saving his lips for when he woke, hoping his subconscious would crave your mouth on his enough to jar him from his slumber. Roman was never quiet about his appreciation for your lips.  

“And tomorrow?” She asked.

“The other.”

As you sat in english class, you couldn’t help but feel Peter’s absence in the seat next to yours. With neither him nor Roman around, you felt off kilter. The boys had been going through a rough patch lately, but Peter was still your friend when Roman wasn’t looking. Giving you winks that would reply with an eye roll, and chatting between classes. You believed you could mend the fence between the two men by simply being Switzerland, but after the police incident, Peter wasn’t so sure.

But you and Roman were alike in many ways, you told Peter as much.

“You two will work this out. Even if it gets hard.” You say flippantly one day as you rummaged through your purse for a tube of lipgloss.

“Yeah? And how do you know? Are you an oracle and just haven’t told me?” Peter jokes as you take the cosmetic from your bag.

You remove the fuzzy doe-foot applicator from the pink make up with a loud squelch and smirk at him.

“Because not only do I know everything,” a swipe of the goods on your lips, “But, I always get what I want.”

Now, his absence along with Roman’s seemed to be significant. Connected.

And then you got a call.

And the ID almost gave you a heart attack.

You fled the classroom without the formality of an excuse. It wasn’t any secret that you and Roman were a couple, so some teachers had been far more lenient with you since he had fallen under. Thankfully, Ms. Day was one of them.

You ran from the class and around the corner for the veil of privacy before you picked up the call.

“Roman?”

“God, how I’ve missed your voice.” He said, punctuated with his melodic laugh.

You burst into tears, clenching your phone tightly in your sweating palm as Roman cooed to you.

“Hey, hey, no. No tears, baby. Too fucking hot to be sad, you know that?”

“I’m not sad, God no! These are tears of joy, of fucking relief.” You felt suddenly very fatigued from the worry and dread escaping your body at the sound of Roman’s voice, and slid down the wall to the grey linoleum below.

“Good, hate to think you’d forget about me after two weeks out of commission.” You could see his smile in your minds eye and your stomach twinge with love.

“You know I could never forget about you.” You replied, whipping your damp cheeks on the back of your hand.

“I’m glad. I was counting on it.” You can see his smirk now.

“Dick.” You laughed and he did as well.

“Eh, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

There was a silence and you wished so helplessly that he was in your arms. Your Roman. Not the still and sterile one. The one with a wicked tongue and a beautiful smile that he offered to you so freely.

It was in this silence though, that you heard the purr of an engine.

“Baby, are you in a car? Are you with Olivia?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly.” And the bubble of joy popped just as it had formed.

“Roman, where are you? Why are you in a car?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, my love.” He hummed quietly his adoration and immediately you knew what was happening.

“Put Peter on the phone.”

“How did you-”

“Just fucking do it, Roman.”

You could hear him curse, then the shuffle of the phone being passed between hands.

“Hey, (Y/N/N), how’ya doin’?” Peter asked, faking a calm tone.

“Let’s forget the goddamn pleasantries, Peter. What in the living fuck are you doing trying to track this wolf when Roman just rose from the dead?”

“Rose from the dead sounds a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Does it sound like I give a shit?”

“Frankly, no. It doesn’t.”

“And what does it sound like I give a shit about?”

“Probably Roman not doing this right now.”

“Bingo, Fiddo. Now you either take him back to his house or I am coming to find you two and I promise you, I can be scarier than Olivia.” You hissed into the receiver, looking around to make sure no rouge students in the halls were hearing your conversation.

“Oh I don’t doubt it. But this was his choice, (Y/N). Nothing neither of us can do anything to change his mind.”

“Peter, I swear to-” This time, you were the one cut short.

“Baby, listen,” Roman said after commandeering his phone back.

“No, Roman, you listen! I know you have some attachment to helping kill this thing, but now isn’t the time.”

“But it is. It’s complicated, but you just have to trust me on this.”

“I do trust you, Ro. I do. But I don’t trust whatever this thing is.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall, “Unfortunately I do trust what it is capable of. Which is a fuck tone pain.”

“I’ll be safe. I have Peter, Peter’s got me. I got this. We know what we’re doing.”

“Wish I could believe that.”

“Baby, I promise. I swear, even. We are gonna find some answers and then I’ll be home to you in one piece.”

You pause and Roman calls your name from the phone, his voice vulnerable.

“It’s funny. This morning you were in a coma and you were more safe then than you are right now.”

“I love you.” Roman says firmly.

“I know.”

Another pause and you know you can’t scold your way out of this one.

“Just… please call me when you get back. I don’t think I can take another minute of being away from you.” Your tears were beginning again.

“Me too. You’re all I can think about,” Roman sniffles, “I need you, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You both sit in silence on the line before Roman tells you he needs to go.

“Ok… but hey, Turner?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Hooch to be careful. Both of you just… be careful.”

“Always.”

And the line goes dead.

After school you debated going straight to the Godfrey residence to wait for Roman to return, but decided against it. You weren’t sure exactly what Olivia knew and didn’t know, and didn’t feel like being alone with her while you figured it out.

So, you waited anxiously in your bedroom, doing everything possible to quell your shaking nerves. You had a perpetual tremor in your body as fiddled with your phone to try and distract yourself. Which was partly true, the other reason your phone was glued to your palm was so you would know the second Roman contacted you.

Though, as the sun descended in the sky and the night sky spanned for hours, you were becoming more restless. Whatever Peter and Roman were doing was no doubt dangerous and time sensitive, and it made you sick that it was nearing midnight without any word from either boy.

As the night continued to wear on and your mind ran away from rationality into an amalgamation of pure fear and absurdity, you decided you couldn’t sit around anymore. You weren’t going to wait for Roman to call and tell you he was home safe. You were going to drive to his house and wait for him there, and if he wasn’t back in an hour, you’d go out looking for him yourself.

As you put on a pair of house slippers and a sweatshirt over your nightgown, your phone vibrated on your vanity. Your heart began to speed up in your chest as you rushed over to the table and picked up your buzzing phone. On the screen was a text alert from Roman, with only one word present:

Come.

And you didn’t need to be told twice.

When you arrived at the Godfrey’s, you fled your car so quickly you almost forget the keys in the ignition. You ran up the front steps and banged both fists on the door needing to use your excess anxiety and adrenaline for something. And while you didn’t want to face Olivia’s wrath, your judgment was clouded by the chance of seeing Roman, alive and well.

When Roman finally opened the door, you wasted no time throwing yourself into his arms. He stumbled at the impact of your embrace, but was quick to remedy his shock by wrapping his arms around you. The feeling of this made your throat constrict.

“Jesus fucking Christ I missed you.” Roman all but growled as he firmly smoothed flyaways from your hair and placed his strong hand on the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how much I missed you, Ro.” You said, voice thick with tears as you began to pepper kisses anywhere you could reach.

Neck, jaw, ear, temple, cheek, shoulder, trap, clavicle, repeat.

Roman groaned appreciatively in your ear as you covered him in your lips.

“You scared me half to death you know?” You said between kisses.

“I know, I’m sorry. Things have been… odd. I still can’t remember it all.” Roman says, his tone confused.

“Well, Olivia said-”

“I know what she said. I just don’t know if I believe it.”

You furrowed your brows and tried to wiggle in his hold, silently signaling for Roman to place you back on your feet, but he only gripped you tighter.

“Not yet. Just, stay a while.” His voice wavered.

You finally pulled back to look at him, his eyes red from tears and shadowed. Sometimes it was difficult to look at him, his beauty and pain were just too much.

“I’m staying, Roman. You couldn’t get me to leave if you wanted to.” You reply.

A wash of emotion washes over his features as his lip quivers and his eyes attempt to blink back tears. You opened your mouth to try and alleviate him of whatever he was feeling when his mouth crashed to yours.

You forgot how good his lips felt against yours as your mouths meshed together. The velvet of his tongue and the mint and smoke on his breath. His hands gripping you everywhere as he pressed you impossibly close, moaning into you with deep primal noises sounding from his chest.

“Roman, baby,” You pulled away for air and Roman promptly moved his attention to your neck and clavicle. “I need you. Take me upstairs, I can’t wait any longer.”

Roman groaned and bit you hard on the shoulder before hitching your legs higher on his hips and running you both up the winding staircase behind him.

Bruises, at the behest of his mouth and fingers, littered your body as you lay on Roman’s chest as you both still reeled in the blissful aftermath of your climaxes. Roman’s fingers idled along and spine while his unoccupied hand rested behind his head.

He had begun to tell the tale of his night, of Peter and the turn and Chasseur and his mother. He told you Peter was upstairs unconscious and that he was unsure what was going to happen when he woke.

“So, after all this, everything’s still shitty? Is that what you’re saying?” You muttered.

“Essentially. But I have hope… we’re going to figure this out. I know it.” Roman nodded, like he is reassuring himself more than you.

“Me too. You two are smart,”

“You flatter me.” Roman chuckles and looks down at you.

“Just trying to butter you up to get into your pants.” He laughs again and slaps your ass.

“Clearly it’s working.” He replies.

“Well that, and I always get what I want.” You say with a content smile.

Roman hums, “Don’t I know it.”

“You enable it.”

“Again, I know.” He kisses your forehead and you burrow closer to him.

You two lay in silence a bit longer before he sighs.

“I think we should move to sleep in the attic. Just in case something happens with Peter and he needs us.”

We. Us.

The small implication in his word choice makes you smile and once again fall under a wave of emotion, just so happy that your Roman was back to you.

You don’t know what you had done if there was no we or us with Roman any longer. But you choose to not fixate on the past.

You just nod and kiss the underside of his chin. Roman gives you a small grin and begins to get up. As you do the same, Roman throws you one of his white button downs, giving you a stern look as you raise an eyebrow in question.

“Just put it on. I got two weeks to make up for, baby. It started with reuniting, then fucking, and now you in my shirt.”

You try to hold off the wide smile that was threatening to take over your face and put on the shirt, buttoning it to just above your cleavage.

“Yeah? And what’s next?” You ask, watching Roman round the bed toward you.

“Sleep.”

Now in a pair of threadbare silk pajama pants and nothing more, Roman extends his hand to you.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” You reply, taking his hand, weaving your fingers as he led you to the attic.

i hope you enjoyed even though it was for a different show!! and if you did, pls i’d love some feedback (:::: also let me know if you would possibly want another roman fic bc i have other ideas lol

#tumblr wouldn't let me post this earlier for some reason? #roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey reader insert #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove imagines #roman godfrey fluff #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard fanfiction #stevesharrlngtonswrites

[helahades]

Can’t Give You Love

(Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader)

A/N: ***Important*** This story has strong noncon concepts, and delusional thoughts from Steve, who is the aggressor. None of these things are okay irl, and because of the sensitive nature of these concepts, warnings are below the cut.

This is my entry to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s recent challenge. ♥️♥️♥️My prompt: (#21) Character A meets Character B at a nightclub. Character A wants a one night stand but Character B wants more.

Summary: You take Steve home after a night out, celebrating your graduation. You fall asleep. Steve decides he hasn’t had enough.

Warnings: Smut. NSFW. Somnophilia, Delusional Steve. Justification of terrible thoughts via Steve’s POV. Mentions of blood and violence. Steve pretending to be a good guy.

Word Count: about 3.1k

—

Steve’s favorite part of the night is the beginning. Club goers come in all shapes and sizes, in all levels of modesty. To be in a world of such varied and unburdened interactions reminds him of the true simplicity at civilian level. Makes him feel almost human. Despite all his moral dilemmas, he is still a man though, and he isn’t just here to be thoughtful. He likes to look, and he’s he’s delighted when his eyes find you.

Watching you from the bar, he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the way you constantly pulled down the skirt of your curve hugging dress, the way you adjusted your “Congrats Grad!” pin like it would spear you to death right there on the dance floor, the way you would go to dance, swinging your hips each way like no one was watching. It excites him watching you, because you keep throwing tells that you’ve never done this before, that this isn’t your scene. For a while, he had been bored with that, but you’re not just a shy lamb, there’s something else.

Your laugh is uninhibited, and there’s a starter spark threatening to flame behind your eyes, dare any man get too touchy with you or your friends. Steve loves a protector.

When you approach the bar, it’s hardly for your first drink, but there are no indicators in your demeanor. He only knows because he’s been watching you all night.

You’re there for a moment, watching the workings behind the bar before turning to him.

“So,” you giggle, flame coming to life, “come here often?”

He’s hooked.

“Not at all actually. This isn’t really my scene.” A lie. He fidgets with his drink as a special touch.

Your eyes soften, empathetically and imperceptibly to anyone who wasn’t analyzing the fine details.

“To be honest… it’s not really mine either. Think I’d rather celebrate graduating by sleeping—But anyway, why’d you come out tonight if it’s… not your scene?”

You’re fully engaged. It seems that you love the game of conversation.

“The truth is… long winded.”

“Well,” you say softly as possible, still wanting to be heard over the pulsing of the bass, “I’m pretty tired of dancing, so you’d be doing me a favor giving me a reason to stay.”

You pull up a stool and prop your head on one arm.

With a soft chuckle, Steve continues.

“I guess…I had been looking for love. For… the one, yknow? And I didn’t realize until tonight that it’s not gonna happen.”

“What changed tonight?”

Your drink arrives.

“It’s nothing about tonight in particular, tonight’s just a night—but I’m sorry. You’re here to have a good time,” he finishes, scooting away just a bit as he does so. A test.

Your brow furrows and you think a bit before closing the gap. Smart girl. But he’s got you.

“I’d have a better time, literally anywhere else,” you giggle again, shifting and sitting up to sip your drink. Seeming to realize what you implied, you gather the boldness to finish it.

“So… do you wanna get out of here?”

—

You decide to drive, saying you only had that sip to drink. Steve says he believes you. He doesn't really mind anyway, and he can’t tell you he knows a different truth, lest he reveal himself.

Watching you as you talk as your minidress rides up your thighs, he realizes upon arrival that he can’t remember whether the drive was long. Sloppy of him.

You park the car and shift in your seat.

“I really want to kiss you—what was it?”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you repeat, sitting back in the driver's seat.

“God I want to kiss you. I can’t show you love,” you taunt gently, in a comfortable way like you’ve known him forever, “but I can make you feel really good,” your voice finishes sweetly.

He feels his cock swell, and in that moment, a large warm hand is cradling your jaw and pulling you close for a sugary, tequila spiked kiss. His lips are plump, warm, now wet as you run your tongue over his bottom one.

From between your legs, heat rises all the way to your chest, and you break away to fumble for your house key.

As Steve sits, collecting air while you fumble with your pineapple keyring, he tries to recall, but he knows he’s never tasted anyone so sweet. You’re warm like muffins fresh out of the oven. You have just enough fight to convince yourself you’re hard to get, and that makes him dizzy.

He tries not to think about the fact that you’re already wet. Because he’s a gentleman. Always a gentleman first. Always the golden boy. Since retiring, he knows his role isn't what it used to be. Sam holds the shield with ease, and honestly, Steve had never pictured life without that shield and moniker before going on the run. When he was on the run, he was living from one moment to the next. Between here and there, he was never really thinking about his own wants, what would make HIM feel alive.

He’s living a different life, though, because now he can. He’s got all the time in the world. After too long of fighting some new cosmic force, of each threat being crazier than the last, he wants the old school life. That sentiment is one he had thought had left, and he wants to taste with you in case it does again.

Seeing your dress ride up your thighs tonight, he thinks of how his flannel might do the same while you cook him breakfast. But he would be right beside you helping, and you wouldn’t look as out of place as you did in that club, because secretly, domesticity with him is what you’re made for.

He’s no fool. He knows you don’t see it yet. But tonight he will bring you to the edge again and again before pulling you into a world of pleasure you’ve never known. And then you’ll know.

—

As he curves his hips up to meet yours, the squelching sounds your pussy makes are obscene. The ones from your mouth are even sexier, and it makes this all seem like a lucid dream. You’re riding him, and he’s...encouraging you by taking control from where he lies. You love it. He’s a gentleman, so he won’t be any rougher.

You say you like it rough, but you’ve never had rough from him. That’s a test for a later time. He doesn’t want to scare you.

“Ooh yea—Steve, please! Right there—like that, don’t stop!”

He doesn’t. He won’t. You don’t need to beg, but he loves it when you do.

Your thighs shake, your mouth falls open in that cute way it does, and you fall forward, catching your hands on his chest. You seem to be in love with the hair there, and everywhere on him. Something about that appeals to a monster in him he doesn’t address.

You wince when you finally dismount, pulling yourself off his incredible length, and looking down for the millionth time to check if the condom is still there, before he discards it. He tries not to roll his eyes as he comes back to lie with you. It’s ridiculous, really. You’re his now, there’s no need for this barrier. He holds the monster back that gives him thoughts of you round with his child.

You plop on the bed next to him and shuffle under the sheets.

“That was sooo good. Thank you. I’m so glad you’re not some creep,” and you giggle it like you do.

Scratching softly at his beard, your eyes close sleepily.

“You can let yourself out. I trust you.”

Hm. Of course you do. You’re his and he is yours. It’s already that easy.

He can’t understand why you want him to leave though, and as you drift off, he wonders if you noticed that he hasn’t shifted from his spot.

The crickets are chirping happily with the night, and after a few seconds, your sprinklers turn on. He thinks about kissing you goodnight, eating dinner together, cleaning the pool while you braid your hair.

Cool and light, fan turned air swirls over him as his back moulds into the mattress. It’s too soft, and somehow he's feeling a little too warm, but maybe that’s what new beginnings do.

Scratching his neck, he sighs at the ceiling before trailing his hand lower...lower… under the sheets, and down to squeeze his cock. It’s still damp with the wetness of you, and he gives it one more slow squeeze. There’s excitement there lingering, and he knows he hasn’t had enough yet.

He could jerk off right here next to you. You’re asleep and you would never know. Maybe he could even cum on your naked stomach, rub it in a bit. Maybe he could cum in your mouth. He tries to blink that thought away. But his cum would look so nice on your pretty skin, or even…

Inside you.

He can’t. You’re asleep. He’s already had you once. He should be sated. All of a sudden, he remembers asking about your New York license plate. He remembers you saying you’d lived there for years before coming out here. And it’s easy for him to conclude that he’s saved you. At least once.

For every threat that plagued New York while he was an Avenger, you’re alive and snoring softly next to him, and that has to be fate. He may not be a hero now, but he was once, and that counts for something right? And he saved your life, at least indirectly. And he can’t ignore your soft breaths pushing past your plump lips, and the way you face him in your sleep like he’s your lover. He’d only be taking what he’s owed. It’s the least he can accept in return for your life.

Tentatively, he shifts and lifts an arm and gently strokes your bottom lip with a thumb. Pushing it just past where your mouth is slightly open, and behind your teeth to push gently on your tongue. The wetness of it is arousing enough, but he pushes further back, and feels your throat constrict in a gag, wetness moving around him pushing his finger to the roof of your mouth.

Then, you’re pulling your head back, gentle discomfort clouding your sleeping features. A pause. And with a rolling slow stretch, you’re lying on your back, legs spread. It’s practically an invitation.

Moving over you, he winces at the way the rubbing sound of his skin on the sheets sounds like an earthquake in the quietness of your room. Propping himself up, covering you like shade, he's aware of the shape of your body’s heat pressed up against such a large surface area of him, and it stirs something deep and dormant. He can practically feel the blood rush to his cock again.

He pushes your thighs further apart with his own, and notes the smoothness of your skin against his, which is hairier. (He abandoned shaving entirely once he dropped the life of being an international symbol. It’s the small protests.)

A choked groan escapes him as he rubs the tip of his cock over your clothed clit, and his breath blows a couple hairs against your forehead.

He pauses.

He hears your fan slicing through the high air.

He hears your refrigerator make a shifting sound as the ice machine starts in the distance.

Most importantly, he hears your breath, still coming even. He chances another rub, pleasure shooting through him like lighting.

Something about both being so close to you again, but also the thought of getting caught in this compromising position has his body alive.

It’s the way he would feel in fights as his younger self, when being a hero was new, and he didn’t know where the next attack would come from. Before violence turned to muscle memory.

Steve decides you’re much prettier than violence, and he likes the wetness of your cunt, of your tongue swirling, much better than the feel of blood streaming over his hands. He lives for this, and the chance of having you while you’re sleeping is a new thrill.

He doesn’t want to take too long really, and he’s not proud of it, but he moves slowly, and pulls his knife from his pants on the floor, inches down your body, and slices your panties open with the blade.

The sound of the fabric ripping is new. Taboo. And he’s harder than before, excitement squeezing his chest. He pauses there for a moment, eye level with your cunt, noticing the slight glisten, noticing flower like curves, remembering how you feel inside.

Scooting a pillow out of the way, he straightens up and sits back on his calves, appreciating you fully. Then, he’s closer, quicker, less careful, as his hands land just over the bend of your knees to turn your thighs out, opening you up to him, then pushing your legs further apart.

It’s really not the time, but he thinks about his life before the serum. On the days when all he could do was sit in bed, draw—but most importantly—think, he would think about a wife. His brain would tease him with fantasies about things he thought he could never have. He would think about being stronger, able to make love to his girl the right way.

He won’t waste his chance now. Coming back up and positioning himself over you once more, he grips the base of his cock and bites his lip, tapping it a couple times on your sensitive pussy.

He freezes when you shift your hips.

A moment.

A breath.

Then the head of his cock breaches your walls and the rest of him follows. You’re not as wet as you were when he first had you, but that can be remedied. It makes the squeeze feel tighter, the moment feel longer. He’s kissing on your neck now, slowly pulling all the way out, before pushing deep back in, relishing in this unbearably and oddly pleasurable friction.

Your breathing quickens, somehow still even, and he needs to be closer. Rolling his hips into you, he’s right against you, damn near balls deep, and he doesn’t know if he’ll last, hearing all your sleeping whines.

He’s obsessed with how your breasts bounce. Your nipples are hardened by the cold, and this stimulation, and they draw small circles in the air with each thrust. His eyes flicker to your face one last time, and as a wave of pleasure rolls through him, his monster deciding he’s done being a gentleman.

With another thrust, and a softly choked groan into the silent night, a wave of your slick is rushing around him, and the sounds drive him crazy. Over and over, he thrusts into you. Gentleness gone, along with his cool reservation of the sounds of his pleasure, he’s damn near growling now, hooked on having you this way.

He adjusts himself, wanting to see the exact motions that are moving you up the bed, that have you whining, your sounds losing their softness. Each time he plunges into you he shudders. The wetness of you, the way he’s using you, the way he can take what he pleases, and the thought you’ll maybe only know because of the soreness.

He slows, cock pulsing, for gentler thrusts. Not for you, but for the artists details. He canvases the soft ridges inside you that have him like a vice grip. Takes the time to note the sharp, raw scent of you mixing with him.

Sitting up and back, he pulls you by the hips from where you lie, your ass lifting off the mattress, and your upper body still unresistant to his manipulations. He has a better view of you now, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit, around your entrance, tapping it on your mound to tease himself. He’s rewarded with another gush of wetness, and it runs down his cock, down his balls, into your sheets, and as he pulls you onto his length again, he growls when he catches the scent swirling through the air.

You’re so fucking pretty like this. He can’t believe he’s never had anyone this way. Then, he realizes, it’s special. For just the two of you, as lovers.

He feels a tug. A throb in the base of his cock then upwards as pleasure overtakes him. He chuckles wickedly, and that cuts off in a hedonistic moan as he knows you won’t be able to stop him. He hears you try to tease that he’s not ready for kids, hears the edge of fear in your voice from before. You don’t do this all the time, and it’d be terrible for a stranger to impregnate you.

But Steve is different. He’s not a stranger. He’s the one for you. You just don’t know it yet. He fucks into you angrier, ignoring how he's overstimulated, how your pussy is puffy and raw, remembers how you told him to let himself out. It would be another joke to laugh to had you not meant it. He just has to feel you. Has to see you take his cum like you were meant to. It’s not his fault. It would have been easier, more gentlemanly had you let him while you were awake.

He’s only a man, really, he has to take what he wants. The feeling swells in his balls again, the pressure of coming release running up his shaft, and his cock feels even harder somehow.

Rushing through him as his thrusts get weaker and he leans more weight on you, the bliss of your wetness squeezing and tugging him involuntarily is indescribable.

He gasps, filling the whole of his lungs, curving his hips into you with short, desperate stutters, stronger pressure pushing up the base of his cock, before finally releasing into you with a deep groan. The new loose feeling, this mess, has him seeing stars.

Steve can’t help but to pause, not because you’re waking up, but because he’s feeling his cum take form wherever it can fit around his cock thats pulsing inside your pussy that’s throbbing too. What can’t fit spills out of you, dripping and smearing, and in his post orgasm haze, he slowly fucks it back in. He pushes it in deep with a wicked moan, thighs shaking in pleasure.

It’s done.

And when the clouds leave your eyes, and you’re really awake as he pulls out of you, flinching at your own sensitivity, your eyes widen in horror as a hand flies between your legs, still processing what he’s done.

And because he’s a gentleman, he has to ask.

“What’s wrong, lover?”

—

(reblogs appreciated!)

tags: (only tagging people I know are comfortable with dark fics) @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @threeminutesoflife @honeychicanawrites @avintagekiss24 @xbuchananbarnes @sapphirescrolls @jtargaryen18

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #darkficswithroo #dark fics with roo #writing challenge #dark fanfic #black!reader #woc!reader #steve x black!reader #steve x woc!reader