#squeezed between hunt's asscheeks

[famouscyclenerd]

Just realized that if elucien get the next book then it'll be gwynriels vs. bryc🤮riels until the next book comes out

[ashlinxsloves]

A/N: fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck– imagine Dante going feral over you wearing a jean pencil mini skirt– this just came to me because I, myself, am wearing said mini skirt right now, and feel like a bad bitch– self-indulgent as always, I'm currently ovulating and need to be dicked down. Not proofread.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, filthy smut, feral Dante, pussydrunk Dante, messy pussy eating, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampies, Dante bends you over his desk at Devil May Cry, pet names, praise kink.

Cross-posted to AO3

Dante and you were supposed to go to the mall today. He promised you he'd take you out for a little shopping date after weeks of being busy with his demon-hunting jobs. It was supposed to be a cute date out of the shop and the usual noise.

But instead? Dante had you bent over his desk, panties slid down to your ankles, skirt pushed up to your waist while his face was buried tongue-deep into your sweet pussy.

You don't even know why he reacted in such a way, but if you were being honest.. you should've known.

Dante had a thing for your legs. Every time they were exposed by skirts, short shorts, or just you wearing panties and his T-shirt around the shop when the two of you were alone.

He would be stuck to your side until he had your legs spread open for him, screaming his name until you came around his tongue so many times you'd forget your name.

You were panting, whining and grasping onto anything you could on Dante's desk while he worked his tongue into your gummy walls.

"Doing so good f'me.. fuck, you taste so good, sweetheart. I can't stop, I'm sorry, your pussy is just so sweet, I couldn't help myself.."

He babbled messily against your cunt, kissing your slick lips while spreading your asscheeks a bit wider. God, he loved your pussy so much.

Dante teased you, his tongue flat against your slit, spreading them open, sucking on your clit and making you squirm.

"Dante, we were supposed to go shopping– hngh! Fuck- ah, mmnnhh–" "Shhh, just enjoy this for now, hmm?"

When he's made you cum on his tongue enough times, Dante's getting up from the floor and impatiently unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants.

"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry, but I'm so hard. You won't mind if we take a little longer, right? I'm gonna spoil you so good later, I promise, sweetheart, just let me sink my cock into you, hm? Yeah?"

He was rambling, grasping your hips, spitting on his hand before stroking his hard erection. He ground himself against you, lubricating himself with your slick, making a bigger mess between your thighs.

When he had you whining for his dick, Dante listened, aligning himself against your gaping entrance.

The two of you moaned in unison as he sunk into your snug pussy. Dante didn't wait for you to get used to his size, pulling himself out until his fat tip was left before slamming into you once more.

"Ah– Dante, ngh– I– fuck–mnngh–" "Shh, shhh, you can take it, baby, I know you can.. you've always been such a good girl for me."

Your sweet cunt squeezed his dick just right at the sound of his praise, it made him press himself closer to you, enveloping you with his body, and peppering your neck with gentle kisses.

"Look at that, your cunt is so wet, baby.. you like being bent over like this, hm? You're making such a mess around my cock. Fuck, it's so warm and tight– so good for me, I– ngh.."

Dante was pounding into you so good, you were seeing stars with every rough thrust, his cockhead hitting that one spot that made you cry out for him.

When your walls started pulsing around him, signaling him that you were close, he picked up his thrusts and moved one of his hands to find your clit, rubbing it in harsh circles.

"Come on baby, come for me, squeeze my dick so I can fill you up, yeah? I'll fill you up so good that my cum will leak down your thigh while we shop for your pretty clothes.."

Dante's punishing strokes and the pressure on your pudgy nub were too much, your pussy clenching around him until you finally snapped, moaning his name with a keen whine while coming hard around his thick length, and milking him dry.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck– just like that, sweetheart, I'm gonna cum–your sweet cunt is gonna make me cum—ngh-!"

He babbled and grunted, clearly pussydrunk, his movements getting sloppier as he led you toward your second orgasm, your insides sensitive and spasming.

Another strained groan left his lips before Dante's balls tightened and he came into you with thick hot spurts, his cum painting your walls and filling your womb.

He kept still for a bit, keeping you plugged with his softening cock, whispering soft praise into your ear before pulling out. He watched how your mixed juices leaked out of your well-used hole, running down your thigh as you panted heavily against the desk.

"You're paying for my clothes and dinner.." "Worth it."

Likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

[honey-on-your-tongue]

ok!! thx for being so sweet abt it i love you, i just wanted to clarify before i sent any requests!!

I was thinking maybe stepdad! jake is tired of your subtle teasing habits w him. so when your mom was out of the house for a bit, jake ends up fucking u after seeing u in a skimpy lil outfit. now HE starts teasing u, about how u whine when his heavy balls start hitting your cunt

Ily too baby!!!

Ugh this idea has me in a chokehold omfgggg 😩😩😩😩

The teasing started with you giving Jake a little nickname. Daddy. You'd call him that and bat your eyelashes and make big doe eyes at him. And it killed him.

Your mom saw it as a term of endearment. Jake saw it for what it was: You being a bratty, little slut. 

And it ached him, made his blood boil, his entire being alight with rage. Goddamn, all he wanted to do was fuck you, dick you down until you understood the kind of whore you are, until you learned your place.

He was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself.

And one day, it finally did. Your mom is in charge of the morning hunt, so she leaves early and won't be back until much later.

Jake lingers in your shared tent, his cock aching to teach you a lesson, as he waits for you to come out of your room.

Eventually, you do. And when he sees you, Jake has to almost physically restrain himself from lurching at you. You're wearing a pretty beaded top, full of colors against your blue skin that make you stand out. Your loincloth matches the top, and it's much, much shorter than all the other ones you'd normally wear.

“Mornin', Daddy,” you say, smiling at him coquettishly, your pretty eyes wide as you throw him a coy look. “Where's Mom?”

“Gone hunting,” Jake replies through clenched teeth as he crosses his thick, bulging arms over his chest. “You and I need to talk, girl.”

You frown softly. “Talk about what?” you question, eyes glancing down at his lips before meeting his gaze again.

“About your behavior,” Jake tells you, raising an eyebrow.

“What behavior, Daddy?” you ask, suggestively accentuating the nickname.

At this, Jake loses his composure. He grabs you by the wrist, tugging you across the room to a table and bending you over it. You gasp as he places a huge hand on your back and pushes your chest against the tabletop, holding you there.

One of his hands caresses the skin of your ass before he delivers a sharp spank that makes you whimper softly, your body jolting away from the pain.

“Let's start with the fact that you're a slut, hm?” he says, spanking you again, his eyes trained on the way your ass bounces, on the way the imprint of his hand slowly starts to form on your asscheek. “Flirtin' with me, making pretty eyes at me, knowing full well I can't do anything 'bout it 'cause your mom's home.”

You deny it. “I don't know what you mean!” you gasp, lying, as Jake spanks you again.

“Bullshit,” he snaps. “You're a whore. You know exactly what you've been doing; don't try to lie to me.”

“I'm not lying!” you whine, Jake's hand spanking you again, and you mewl softly. Your pussy starts moistening, fluttering around nothing. “Daddy, I don't know what you mean.”

He spanks you. “You and I both know exactly what you've done, you slut. Always pretending to be so fuckin' innocent when you're nothin' but a whore.” He grabs the thick skin of your ass, squeezing you, making you whine softly.

“'m not a whore,” you tell him, eyes fluttering shut as he kicks your foot, forcing your legs apart, and then runs a hand up between your folds.

He can feel how wet you are, your slick gathering between your folds, smearing over your thighs. “This wet pussy says otherwise, girl,” he chuckles, his cock springing to attention when he raises his hand to his mouth and tastes you.

When he moves his fingers to slide between your folds again, you moan quietly, arching your back and presenting your cunt for him to fuck. He groans at the sight, at how evident it is that you're such a little slut.

Jake can't stop himself. He's knows it's wrong, knows he shouldn't, but fuck, he can't not.

He removes his loincloth, tossing it aside, and then runs the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

You shudder quietly, pushing your ass back as if inviting him in, and with one hard thrust, Jake fills you to the brim. You cry out at the sensation, the bulging head of his cock pressing against your cervix.

“You still gonna lie to me, whore?” he demands, spanking your ass, his eyes watching your poor pussy stretch open to take his thick cock.

“No!” you moan, cunt clenching around him. “I won't lie t'you anymore, Daddy,” you say, sobbing. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry I lied to you.”

“Much better,” Jake says as he pounds you, his cock dragging against your gummy walls. “Tell me the truth now, girl. How bad have you wanted me to fuck you?”

“S'bad!” you gasp, pussy dripping. “S'bad! I've wanted you so bad, Daddy!”

Jake enjoys how pathetic you are now that he's got his cock in you. “Is that why you were always teasin' me, calling me Daddy and wearing those ridiculous outfits so I could see your pussy, hm?”

“Yes!” you gasp. “'t was all f'r you, Daddy. All f'r you! Always f'r you.”

You whimper and whine, tears falling from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. You hiccup softly between a few sobs as you cry from the pleasure. You blubber out something incoherent, something he can't understand, and it only makes his cock twitch inside you.

“You're so fuckin' pathetic,” Jake chuckles, spanking your ass, watching it jiggle. His balls slap against your folds, and you gasp at the sensation, body trembling.

“'s too much!” you mewl, hips almost trying to move away from his. “I can't 'nymore!”

“Aw, what's wrong, girl?” Jake mocks, smirking, his eyes trained on your quivering limbs. “Is Daddy's cock too big for you? His balls too heavy as they slap against that wet cunt?”

You sniffle, nodding, nails digging into the wood of the table. “Daddy, please!”

Jake chuckles. “You don't get to ask favors, girl. Sluts don't get what they want,” he tells you, his hips slamming into your ass, the sound of skin on skin loud in the tent. “You're going to take it until I decide you've had enough, understood?”

“Please,” you cry, sobbing. “No more, no more!”

Jake spanks you. “What did I just say?” he demands, thrusting into you harder.

You whine, “That I-I don't get to ask favors.”

“Yeah, what else?” he questions, his hands squeezing your hips, holding you in place as he fucks you.

“I'm going to take your cock until you-you decide it's enough,” you gasp, moaning, cunt tight around him. You're seeing stars behind your eyelids, tears blurring your vision. “But I can't!” you insist. “Oh, it's too much!”

“You should've thought about that before you behaved like a whore, hm?” he says, sneering. “You couldn't have possibly thought you'd be able to get away with this behavior of yours.”

You mewl, embarrassedly admitting, “I might've thought...I could get away with it.”

At this, Jake scoffs. He grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs on it, making you gasp. “You're a fuckin' whore. What the fuck were you workin' me up for if not this?”

You whimper. “I don't-don't know! I just liked the way you looked at me, Daddy!”

Jake laughs. “You're fuckin' disgusting,” he spits. “What would your mom say if she saw her pretty little girl getting fucked by Daddy, hm? What would she say if she knew you'd been riling me up, I wonder?”

“No!” you gasp, fear taking over you. “No, she can't-can't find out!”

Jake laughs again, the scent of your fear making him feral. “Maybe she should, huh? Maybe after I'm done fuckin' you, I'll just tell her what a little slut you are.”

“No!” you beg. “Daddy, please, no! You—Please, don't!”

“Why not?” Jake questions, tugging your hair cruelly. “Why shouldn't I tell her? Why should I keep your secret, slut?”

“I'll do anything!” you promise him. “I'll let you do anything to me, let you use me however you want! Please, she just can't find out!”

Jake chuckles. “Sellin' your body just to keep a secret, kid? You're really willing to be my little plaything as long as I don't tell on you?”

“Yes!” you gasp. “Yes, I'm yours! Your toy! Just please, don't tell Mom!”

Jake groans as your cunt tightens around him, your orgasm clearly not far. “Fine. I won't tell your mom,” he says. “Just get used to my cock, girl, 'cause it's gonna be in you more often than not.”

You whimper, crying out, “Yes! Yes! Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!”

Whatever intact thoughts were left inside you disappear like the setting sun. Slow at first, a gentle decline, and then all at once, drowning you in darkness. Your mind is lost to the pleasure, thoughts swirling all over, leaving not a single thing in your head beside the feeling of Jake's cock bruising your body.

“Please,” you mewl. “Daddy, please.”

“You wanna come?” Jake asks, his balls slapping against your pussy, soaking in your slick. “Wanna come on Daddy's cock?”

“Please!” you beg, nodding, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Need to—Want to—! Please!”

Jake scoffs at how fucked dumb you already are, and one of his hands slides under your body, caressing down your stomach until his fingers reach your clit. He pinches the sensitive nub, making you jerk and cry out, and he says, “Come for me, girl. I want you to come all over my cock, hm?”

“Yes!” you gasp, the pleasure growing inside you, clawing at the insides of your womb, aching to be let out. “Fuck! Daddy!”

And then your orgasm is all over you, bursting across your skin like wildfire, uncontrollable and scorching. You mewl, your cunt growing tight around Jake's cock, your slick gushing out.

As Jake continues thrusting into you, the sound of your squelching pussy reverberates around the room, and Jake grunts, “You hear that, kid? Hear how fuckin' loud your cunt is for me?”

You mewl, still tight around him, mewling, “Fuck! Daddy!”

Jake groans as he ruts into you, his thrusts stuttering as his orgasm overcomes him. He gasps, body shaking as he comes inside you, his seed spilling into your warm pussy, warm and sticky, and you shudder at the sensation.

Jake gasps as he starts recovering from his high. “Goddamn,” he groans. “Oh, I could absolutely get used to this pretty pussy.”

-----

@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise

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Blog masterlist / part 2

[waynes-multiverse]

I have a request for a dean drabble! Let's say Dean has issues with Baby. Then Sam is giving him hell. So once they get back from a hunt, Dean sends Sam off to get his own hotel room and has you to keep his mind off of things 😁😋

A/N: Full disclosure, this one got away from me... Literally. But it's not my fault! My mind just couldn't imagine a world where Dean could be distracted by anything if something was up with Baby. And well, the rest is entirely his fault, okay? Clearly, he didn't have his head where it needed to be... 😂 (But heed the warnings for this one since it's not everyone's cup of tea)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSWF, language, smut (p in v, rough sex, one spank, dirty talk, anal sex), crack & brotherly bickering

Word Count: 823

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles

Motel Diablo

Dean hums, forest green eyes closing as he concentrates on the feeling of your tight walls enveloping his thick shaft as it slides effortlessly in and out of your soaking pussy.

His body moves like a seesaw, soft ocean waves on a calming sea as his hips rock against your ass, balls shamelessly slapping against your clit and filling the shady motel room with obscene noises loud enough to wake the neighbors. Your screams of his name are a delightful little melody, a symphony just for him as it flows through his ears.

“Fuck, Dean! Need more, baby…,” you mewl, meeting him thrust for thrust as you push back even further, propped up on all fours on the squeaking mattress while Sam’s occupying the room next to yours and Dean’s.

“Need you to scream when you cum again, baby. Even louder than last time,” Dean chuckles devilishly, his own breathing ragged and green eyes fixated on the shared wall that borders Sam’s room. “That little bitch needs to learn a lesson… Prick thinks he can just mess with me.”

“D-Dean…” You try to gather your senses as your boyfriend picks up his pace, angling his hips so that he fucks even harder and deeper into you, causing you to cry out between your words and fist the filthy bedsheets. “C-can you please st-stop… talking about your b-brother while you’re fucking m-me? It’s getting weird…”

“Y/N, he almost crashed Baby! That fucking vamp wasn’t worth risking my precious… She has a scratch because of that careless little dick!” Dean barks defensively, the next slam of his hips pushing you forward and face down into the mattress. “I just gave her a new coat of paint…,” he murmurs, shaking his head. He accidentally slips out of your cunt for a second but grabs your hips a little tighter, blunt fingernails digging into your taut skin, and quickly sinks back inside your hole.

“AH! FUCK, DEAN!”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl. Just like that,” Dean smirks, satisfied with the current noise level. Sam surely won’t be able to sleep. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N. Squeezing my cock so good…”

“That’s because you slipped into my asshole, you idiot,” Y/N huffs and glances back over her shoulder, brow creased in annoyance as their gazes meet.

Dean’s head tilts before his eyes wander down and register what’s going on. “Oh… Whoops!” A bashful chuckle escapes his throat, his cheeks and tips of his ears turning beet-red. He stops his movements, drawing out his glistening cock till only the tip remains inside the tight ring of muscle. “Sorry, baby,” he apologizes sheepishly and then bites down on his bottom lip. “Want me to pull out again?”

You roll your eyes with a loud sigh. You can hear it in his voice, the little plea to keep going. The hunter loves to abuse every hole of yours, and it’s been a while since he used the back door. “No, it’s fine. You can stay where you are…”

“Thanks, baby,” he replies giddily, a large palm coming down to strike your right asscheek, making you yelp with pleasure before he caresses the burning flesh and picks up his thrusts again, carefully spearing in and out of your puckered hole. “Fuck, so good, baby. Always loved that perky ass of yours…”

“Shit, Dean, don’t stop,” you pant as one of his hands reaches around your front and starts to furiously circle your clit until your toes begin to curl, the tension in your stomach rising. “So thick, baby. Fuck me so good with that cock of yours…”

“Can feel you getting close,” he groans, speeding up his administrations on your bundle of nerves and the roll of his hips. “Not gonna last much longer…”

“DEAN! CAN YOU GUYS SHUT UP?!” They hear Sam’s voice yell through the thin wall, a few pounds of a fist following. “I’M TRYING TO SLEEP, JERK!”

“BITCH!” Dean shouts back, his chuckle dying in his throat as he feels you clench down on him, the ring of muscles pulsating around his cock and milking him dry. Hot ropes of cum fill your abused hole as he presses deeper inside with an animalistic grunt that rumbles through his chest while you chant his name on repeat.

“FINALLY!” Sam’s complaints drown through the wall one last time, the bitchy eye roll that probably accompanied that word even audible in his voice.

With a satisfied smirk, Dean slowly pulls out his flaccid dick, hearing the soft pop as he does and breathlessly lets himself drop down on the mattress next to you. He pulls you close for a deep kiss and drags you to snuggle on his sweat-covered chest.

“That’ll teach him,” Dean sighs with a laugh.

You groan loudly and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Oh my God, I hate you both. You guys need therapy. Seriously…”

Like I said, it got away from me (and from Dean) 😆

Hope you enjoyed the first of these dirty drabbles! More are coming today and the rest of the week as I work through your requests 🖤

Tag Lists:

Everything J: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

Dean: @parinarain @hobby27 @fromcaintodean

[bestiesenpai]

I be having some interesting conversations sometimes lol also this my first time writing for Naoya Zenin, he’s probably a little OOC but what do you want me to do about it? femme reader

TW: noncon, (one) slap on the face, a touch of misogyny but that’s to be expected with wonderful Naoya :)

Walking around the Zenin estate always felt like you were being hunted. Darting around corners, hiding in forgotten closets, pressing yourself against the walls of desolate hallways - all to stay away from him.

Your official role in the estate was a housecleaner, a simple maid that got bossed around and was generally meant to go ignored and unseen by the people that actually lived here. Yet for some reason, the future head of the Zenin clan had formed quite an attachment to you.

“(Y/N)!” Naoya called your name curtly from down the hall. He must have sensed you were nearby and wanted to play with you. Holding your breath, you waited to see if you could hear his footsteps approaching. When none came, you turned the opposite direction to the sound of his voice and ran away.

There were many times you’d tried to quit, tried to run away and hide from him, but they never worked. Whatever Naoya wanted, he got. You weren’t allowed to quit, he paid you far too much money and he made sure you wouldn’t be able to hide anywhere, he had people just waiting to search for you should you try to give him the slip.

You were right in feeling like every second spent at the estate felt like being hunted for sport, because you were.

When you didn’t immediately reply to Naoya, you knew your fate was sealed. In truth it would probably be better to just go to him outright and see what he wanted, but you couldn’t help but prolong the inevitable; you couldn’t willingly give yourself away to a predator such as him.

Ducking around a corner, you could faintly hear the shoji screen slide open and his footstep crossing the threshold. He was no doubt leaning over into the hallway to see where you were.

The first empty room you saw, you went into. It was one of the Zenin families personal libraries, absolutely full of so many books that it would take at least two lifetimes to read them all, and even more to fully comprehend them.

Hiding behind a large tufted armchair, you held your breath and tried to listen as closely as you could for any approaching footsteps. Slapping a hand over your mouth to further silence yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed for the best.

“Hiding from me won’t do you any good.” Naoya’s voice sounded right above you and a spike of fear shot down your spine. Throwing yourself away from his voice, you looked up in horror at the man standing above you in his pristine yukata.

Naoya laughed at your horrified expression and the way you tried to shoot up and run away from the room. His hand caught your wrist, yanking you back to him with an ease that scared you even more.

“Stop running away (Y/N).” His voice was too casual for the way he pressed you into his chest, grabbed your throat and pulled your head back. “You know I don’t like to play with my food.”

“Zenin-sama, please.” There were already tears brimming at your lashes, getting bigger and threatening to fall as Naoya tightened his grip around your throat. Squirming against him, you clenched your eyes closed and let out a little hiccup as the tip of his tongue connected with your cheek.

“I thought I taught you that when I call your name, you’re to run to me with your tits out and mouth open ready to suck me off?” Naoya pressed his lips right against your ear and pressed his fingers into your pulse.

“Z-zenin-”

“And didn’t I also teach you that when a man is speaking you’re to be silent?” Completely closing off your airway, Naoya chuckled into your ear as you desperately clawed at his hand. When your arms turned slack, he let you go, let you sputter and cough back to life in his hold.

His free hand immediately went to work, yanking down the collar of the yukata he put you in. Naoya had made a rule early on that you could only wear the clothes he gave you, and most of the time it consisted of nothing at all or skimpy lingerie. He’d taken all the clothes you had brought with you to the estate and picked through them, only giving back a handful of necessary undergarments.

Shoving the fabric down your shoulders, he was close to tearing the whole thing to shreds. You didn’t have a bra on underneath, he’d taken all of them as part of your punishment for running away last time.

“What a fucking whore.” Naoya tsked upon seeing your unobstructed breasts, nipples pebbling under the sudden cool air. Once your yukata was fully gathered around your waist, Naoya slapped a hand onto one of your breasts and pulled you against him.

“Stop...” You whimpered, craning your head away as he nudged it with his nose. Naoya ignored your pathetic cries in favor of swiping his tongue across your neck, coating it in his saliva before biting down. “Zenin-sama!” Your body jerked in response, your back arching hard to try and get away.

You could feel his hard on through his yukata, pushing strongly against the curve of your ass. Naoya sucked on your neck, digging his teeth in further and letting drool drip down the front of your chest.

His hand was hard at work as well, fondling your breasts far too roughly and pinching your nipple between his fingers. The tears that were at your lashes were now falling in a gentle stream down your cheeks, dripping right onto his hand.

“Stop your pathetic crying, filthy slut.” Naoya barked, ripping his hand away from your chest and slapping you across the cheek. “You should be grateful I’m using you like this instead of keeping you as some no name maid.”

You tried to stem your crying, you really did, but the stinging burn on your face coupled with his harsh words and even harsher treatment of your body weren’t making it easy. Looking up at the ceiling, you sniffled hard and let out a short shout when he bit your shoulder abruptly.

“Zenin-sama...please let me go...” You’d given up physically struggling, only gripping his sleeve pathetically with your free hand. The whole side of your neck and top of your shoulder were covered in his teeth marks and blooming hickies he’d be sure to touch up later.

“Shut the fuck up.” He sighed, holding you still so he could grind against your ass. “Shut up and take what I give you.” Groaning low in his throat, Naoya dropped his head and thrust into your ass, tightening the grip on your wrist as he rut into you.

The push he gave you was abrupt, and you were face down on the floor in seconds. The hardwood scraped across your chest and face painfully but there wasn’t any time to hobble up to your feet as Naoya dragged your hips up and forced your ass in the air.

“Zenin-sama!” Your feet beat against the floor as he pushed and pulled the bottom of your yukata up to bunch at your hips, exposing your naked lower half to the room. When Naoya took your clothes away, he also took away your underwear.

“God you’re fucking loud.” He sounded properly annoyed as he spread your asscheeks apart with his hands. Looking over your shoulder, you could see him gather saliva in his mouth and spit right on your asshole, biting his lip as you clenched around nothing.

“Better put on a show for me then, you little bitch.” Landing a hard smack on your ass, Naoya begins to adjust the front of his yukata, pulling his cock out from the confines of the fabric. Pumping it once, twice, he presses it to your asshole. “Put on a nice show while I take what's mine and maybe I won’t put a shock collar on you like last time.”

[lesbobiwan]

bounty (boba fett x reader)

rating: explicit

pairing: boba fett x female reader

summary: you come to boba to make one of your fantasies a reality. he has a few conditions first.

warnings: predator/prey kink, pretending to be a bounty, probably unsafe sex bc yall fuck in a forest but we dont need to talk about it, light choking, name calling, everything is safe sane and consensual, breeding kink

You’re breathing too loud in the quiet of the forest. You know that your pants echo through the woods and that you’re being too careless as you run, but you couldn’t care less. 

The only thought going through your mind is to run. You know there’s a small village up ahead. If you can just break through the edge of the forest, you can find somewhere to lay low. Maybe a shopping center? 

A twig snaps behind you.

You curse, still too loud for the peace and quiet of the forest. He’s toying with you now.

The great Boba Fett would never be stupid as to step on a twig. He’s close, and he wants you to know it. Was he ever far, or was he just letting you tire yourself out in a futile attempt to get away from him?

And tire yourself out you have. Your thighs ache and your lungs burn. You’ve never ran this much before in your life. Adrenaline pumps through your body, but you’ve always been a realist at heart. 

You can’t last much longer.

Another snapping of foliage. 

You can hear his footsteps now. Fear, despite your best efforts, shoots down your spine. 

Stars, why are you doing this? All you wanted was to get fucked, maybe put into binders and act like he had a puck on you.

Oh, right.

“If you want to get fucked like a bounty,” Boba had told you just before he sent you running, “You’re going to run like a bounty. Now go.”

“You done running, girl?” His voice booms through the trees, sounding entirely unaffected as though he wasn’t running through the forest after you. “Or am I going to have to mess up your pretty face to bring you in?”

Arousal simmers low in your gut. Stars, he’s really getting into this thing, isn’t he?

“Fuck you!” You spit over your shoulder, picking up the pace in hopes to drag out the chase a little longer.

You’re not ashamed to admit that the idea of being hunted has you soaking through your panties.

Boba chuckles, sounding much too close for comfort, “Don’t give me any ideas.”

Shit. 

A gloved hand closes around your bicep and jerks your body to a stop.

A yelp escapes you before you can stop it. 

A second hand clasps over your mouth.

“Don’t scream,” he whispers in your ear, voice distorted through the helmet, “If I let you go, will you cooperate?”

“Fuck you!” Your voice is muffled from the meat of his palm. “Let me go!”

His amused demeanor vanishes. Boba wedges foot behind the backs of your knees and sends you sprawling to the ground with a shove.

It’s not rough, but it’s definitely enough to have you dazed. You barely have time to blink before he’s on you again. 

He flips you onto your stomach with a show of strength that has you fighting back a moan and straddles the backs of your thighs to keep you in place.

“What the fuck are you —”

“Quiet,” Boba hisses, strong hands grabbing you by the wrists to pull them together at the small of your back. The binders that snap around your wrists are cold, but not the reason for the goosebumps that spread across your skin.

You hope he doesn’t realize the way you rub your thighs together.

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” Boba pants into your ear. His cock is hard against your ass. “’S that what got you in this situation, huh?” 

You almost scoff. He knows that its your mouth that got you in this situation.

“You mouth off to the wrong person and get a bounty put on you?” He continues, subtly grinding his erection into your ass. 

You can’t help it. A moan escapes you and you push back against him.

“Oh,” Boba sounds amused, damn him, “Is that what you do? Fuck the sorry son of a bitch that tries to take you in?” He presses his hips harder against you.

“Please!” You gasp, trying to cant your hips back to feel more of him, “I’ll do anything!”

He laughs cruelly and pulls you to your feet quick enough to have your vision swimming. “Anything?” He mocks, pulling your back tight against his chest as his free hand creeps up to wrap around your neck.

Another moan rips from your throat. “Yes! Anything!” You roll your hips back against the cock pressing into the small of your back, “Anything! Please, just let me go,”

Boba hums. His thumb strokes across your carotid artery as he contemplates your offer.

It’s quiet in the forest besides your ragged breathing. You’d almost think he’s forgotten about you if it wasn’t for the subtle grind of his hips against you.

It’s stifling. It’s degrading and objectifying but so fucking hot.

“Boba,” You try again, but he cuts you off with a quick jerk of your body.

He hauls you over a fallen tree like you way nothing. You’re completely folded over the tree, your ass being propped up in the air while your chest and shoulders dangle.

Your moan is so loud that the nearest birds fly away.

A heavy hand smacks against your right asscheek. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, your hips jerking — whether to escape the spank or to search for a new one, you don’t know.

“Is that how you’ve lasted this long?” He demands, landing another spank on your left cheek. “You promise to fuck whoever it is that catches you in exchange for your freedom?”

He presses his weight against you and all hopes of escaping, if you even wanted to anymore, vanish without a trace.

“You gonna take my cock, girl?” His hands drift to the waistband of your pants before he yanks them and your panties down hard enough to pop some of the seams. “You gonna be my good little whore?”

“Yes!” You sob, writhing against the tree that props your hips up. Your feet can’t find purchase against the soil, slipping and sliding no matter how you try to shift your position. “I will!”

“You will what?” Boba presses, tracing his leather covered fingers over your cunt. “Stars, you’re soaking, girl,” he murmurs, spreading your juices across his fingertips. 

“I’ll be your good whore,” You repeat, cheeks flushing a red to match the accents on his armor. 

His pleased hum sends another flood of wetness to your core. One of his hands reach around to pinch your clit between two finger while the other goes to unbuckle his pants. 

You gasp and jerk against his fingers. “Please!” You gasp, trying your best to push into his hand. 

The bark of the tree rubs uncomfortable against the exposed skin of your hips, but the pain fizzles into pleasure with each passing second. Your head begins to pound with the blood that rushes to it. The rough texture is a grounding presence that fights against the way Boba’s very existence threatens to send you flying high into atmosphere. 

“Please, what?” Boba asks, smacking his freed cock against your cunt with a wet pop, “Please fuck you so you can go free? So you can vanish and I lose out on a paycheck?”

Stars, you think you might combust. Every fiber of your being is alight. If he doesn’t fuck you, you think you’re gonna wither up and die.

“No! No, I won’t! I’ll stay!” You can’t even register the words leaving your mouth. Nothing matters except getting his cock in you. “I’ll stay. I’ll — I’ll be yours!”

The tip of his cock, thick and heavy, presses against your hole. “You’ll be mine?” He repeats, slowly inching his cock into you.

No matter how many times he presses into you, you’re always worried he won’t fit. He’s just so thick. The stretch is devastating and enough to force a high whine from your lips. 

He forces his cock into your cunt fully with a harsh thrust that forces the breath from your lungs. 

Immediately, he sets a punishing pace, one hand holding the binders that keep your wrists together at the small of your back while the other gathers your hair up to force your head up. 

“You’ll be mine?” Boba repeats, letting go of your binders to land three quick slaps against your ass. “Answer me!”

“Yes!” You cry out, tears gathering in your eyes against the onslaught on your cunt. “Yes, I’ll be yours!” 

His leather gloves rub quick circles around your clit, “Mine? Mine to keep tied up and ready for my cock at all times?” He pounds into you even harder than before, if that’s even possible. “Mine to fuck and fill full of my cum?”

Oh fuck.

You clench around him at his words.

His modulated groan echoes through the forest. “You like that, girl? You like the idea of me keeping you filled the brim with my cum, huh? You want to be fucked and bred?” He punctuates his words with hard and shattering thrusts.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, too caught up in the way that he stretches you to say anything. Fuck, you’re so close. 

“Are you gonna cum?” He whispers, bending to press his chest into your back. 

The angle forces your upper body down even more, and all you can do it take it.

“Yes! Yes! Please let me come,” The tears are falling down your face in earnest now. 

Boba’s hand, the one not rubbing devastating circles on your clit, wraps around your throat and squeezes just enough to make you see stars, “Cum.”

Your orgasm wracks your body like a bomb. Your thighs tremble with the force of how hard you cum, and every one of his thrusts is accompanied but a wet sound that would embarrass you if you were able to think in that moment.

Boba groans as you tighten around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” He slows the pace of his thrusts down, now grinding into your cunt and pressing his cock into that spot that makes you a drooling mess. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up?” 

His gravelly voice, still modulated by the helmet — and, fuck, it should not turn you on as much as it does to know that he kept on that helmet to fuck you —, sends more shivers down your spine. 

“Yes! Please, fill me up! Fill me up, keep me, I’myoursI’myours,” You’re babbling now. The words spill from your lips like the slick that spills down your thighs.

“Fuck,” Boba hisses, grinding his hips once, twice, three more times before he stills and his cum floods your cunt.

You gasp and moan as your walls flutter around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth. 

Your world is reduced down to feeling of Boba’s weight, a grounding presence against the aftershocks of pleasure that threaten to overwhelm you, and his hands that stroke down your back.

“Good girl,” He whispers, voice no longer filtered by the helmet. When did he take that off? “You did so good, little one,” 

The binders fall off your wrists with a soft click. 

Boba eases your bottoms back up around your hips and pulls your body off the tree. 

“C’mon, lets get back to the ship so we can clean you up,” He presses a soft kiss, a drastic juxtaposition from the harsh way he treated you just minutes before, to your temple and resigns himself to supporting half of your weight when it’s evident that your legs are too weak to walk.

You press your body closer to him, relishing in the slight ache that comes from between your legs. “Y’know, you could always try acting if being a crime lord on Tatooine doesn’t work out,” You murmur against his shoulder.

Boba huffs. “You’re not funny.”

“Yes, I am,” You deny, hiding your smile in his pauldron.

You walk in silence, save for the way he’ll occasionally whisper a soft praise in your ear, until you finally remember something.

“Hey,” You slap a hand against his chest plate, “I know this was my idea, but I didn’t expect you to make me run.”

Boba’s laugh echoes through the forest and makes your body shake. “Exercise never hurt anyone, mesh’la,”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure. You look at the bruises on my hips in the morning and tell me that exercise doesn’t hurt.” You’re just complaining now, just finding ways to poke fun at him now that you’ve begun to climb down from the high peak of pleasure.

Boba’s hand around your waist drifts to dig into the raw skin on your hipbone, “I didn’t hear you complaining any,” He whispers into your ear, voice low and daring. 

Goosebumps break out across your body.

Maybe your body will be ready for round two when you get back to the ship.

[ghoultramp]

ruffled feathers [pro hero hawks x catgirl criminal reader]

▷       bnha

↳ pairing: pro hero hawks x catgirl criminal reader

↳ content: noncon/dubcon, hunter/prey, rough sex, dacryphilia, degradation, outdoor sex, quirk use, restraint, cum play, power play

↳ words: 2.5k

⇢ summary: it was at the end of a decent night of petty crime, but you knew you were being watched. 

over the last few weeks, maybe longer, you had caught the attention of one pro hero in particular. they call him wing hero: hawks. he’s a fierce and cunning bird of prey while you’re little more than a helpless kitten by comparison.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: i may or may not be a just a tiny little bit obsessed with hawks using his feathers as restraints...

It was cold, your breath visible in the night air. A lonely streetlight cast a sickly orange glow on the road ahead of you. The houses were quiet at this hour, no one awake to interfere with your evening of petty crime. It had been a successful evening of thievery, your spoils swinging in a bag in your hand. While you were so sure you had remained undetected, you were beginning to sense the presence of someone.

Over the last few weeks, maybe longer, you had caught the attention of one pro hero in particular. They call him Wing Hero: Hawks. He’s a fierce and cunning bird of prey while you’re little more than a helpless kitten in comparison. You were no villain, yet you were sure he had been tracking you relentlessly as of late.

Your feline ears twitched with alertness when you heard something. Instinctively, you lowered onto your haunches and your tail flicked against the air around you. You felt all the exposed hair on your body stand on end when the faint gust of his wings hit you from behind.

You felt your muscles burn as your flight response kicked in, desperately willing your legs to spring into action but your incoherent thoughts overwhelmed you. You coul-

Too late.

Strong arms were wrapped around you quicker than you could think, the bag containing your loot dropped to the concrete with a clank as your hand let go of it in shock. You struggled against his clutches but the effort seemed hollow as he remained unperturbed.

When he unfurled his wings, the shadow that engulfed you made your tail twitch, reacting in fear. You whimpered as he marched you forward, closer to the shadow of a high boundary wall of a house.

“So this is where you were.” The lilt in his voice made you sneer.

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?” You tried your best to feign bravado but the tremor in your voice was far too obvious.

“I’ve been hunting you for a while now,” he told you.

As he talked, the warm breath he exhaled with every syllable brushed against your vulnerable neck. You wanted to cry out but your mouth stayed shut. You could only whimper as he marched you forward to disappear into more concealing darkness. The high wall in front of you was imposing, it cast your doom.

This is bad.

“I suppose I’ve just been waiting for the right time to--” he released the grip his right arm had around you and reigned a hand down hard on your soft asscheek, “ --strike .” He squeezed tightly.

You let out a pained yelp. Maybe in hindsight, your choice of attire wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had; you were very conscious of just how short your skirt was, how tight and revealing your top was, how utterly impractical it seemed now.

He may have lacked the mass and height of most of the other top pro heroes, but his strength was more than adequate to keep you restrained; he certainly wasn't bothered when you tried your hardest to push back against him.

“P-please,” you begged, tears now brimming in your eyes, “I’m not a villain, I’m just a nobody! I only stole a few things!”

“That still makes you a criminal,” he breathed in your ear, continuing to grope you, “but if you’re good, maybe I won’t have to hurt you.” Your body stiffened and your lip quivered, your tears delicately began to brim over. “If you’re not, I guess I’ll be cleaning up more than one mess.”

This domineering man who preyed upon you was a stranger compared to the laissez-faire, happy-go-lucky persona he showed to the rest of the world. The sexy, young pro hero, the man of a fangirl's night-time fantasies. Maybe even your night-time fantasies.

His hand swung at your ass again and this time it stung; you failed to contain your sobs as your body shuddered involuntarily. You heard his husky chuckle as a finger teased the seam of your underwear. Your brow furrowed and your face contorted against your tears as you struggled to close your thighs against his intrusion.

But now?

Now he terrified you.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he sounded so deceptively gentle as his boot kicked the insides of your feet, jolting them to the side, just where he wanted them. He spread you nicely.

It’s no use.

Hawks freed his other arm from around you but your relief was short-lived when his hard chest pressed into your back. Your breath hitched in your throat as your breasts pressed against the brick, it felt freezing against the unprotected skin of your cleavage thanks to yet another design flaw in your costume.

In another futile attempt to resist him, you pushed your palms against the wall. You felt humiliated in your defeat which only made you cry harder.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting” he cooed, “but you’re just a pathetic little kitten, aren’t you?” Hawks brushed his newly freed hand along the tip of your feline ear, smirking when it twitched beneath his touch.

His hand drifted down, fingertips resting softly against your wet cheek. A growl caught in his throat as he followed the tear tracks to your mouth where he roughly held fingers around your jaw. The growing bulge in his trousers pressed harder against your ass, your body only shuddered violently as your sobs grew.

“P-please,” you pleaded again, you could only feel helpless as you let your hands fall limply to your side. “This isn’t… this isn’t fair!”

His grip on your jaw tightened while his hand between your thighs began to move, teasing your sex beneath your underwear. A betraying jolt tightened in your core when his finger came in contact with your clothed clit.

“How can you say that,” he murmured as he flattened his hand against your pussy, gently rubbing back and forth, “when I can feel just how wet you are?”

Hawks groaned as he applied just a little bit more pressure. You shuddered beneath his touch.

“Quivering in fear, right?” He pressed his lips to your ear, his warm breath made it twitch involuntarily. “You’re disgusting. I’ve seen you strutting around, you think you’re so confident, not a care in the world,” he gripped onto your underwear, pulling it back, the cotton bunching and pulling around your clit, “and now you’re shy?”

You wailed, clenching your eyes shut, as he used his grip on your chin to manipulate your entire body into facing him. Your head hit the wall with a dull thud and you only saw white when your eyes shot open. His grip began to hurt.

“I want to watch you as I take you,” he stated, the soft tone didn’t match his words. Nor his actions.

You were hurt and confused, your sobs now an ugly, gurgling choke as he brought both hands in front of your chest. He said nothing as he traced the outline of the cut-out in your top before tearing it in two; your breasts bounced lightly after being freed from the garment that now hung limply at your shoulders.

“You’re quite appetizing like this,” Hawks breathed, one hand caringly stroked your cheek while the other fumbled at the fastening of his trousers.

You could see the hunger in his eyes now, golden irises bore through you, it was unnerving, Your tail twitched and flicked against him but he was quick to release your cheek in favor of grabbing your obnoxious tail, and the whoosh-ping of one of his feathers piercing the wall right beside your head caused you to jump and yelp.

“St-stop,” you cried, your eyes darted to the bright crimson feather in the wall, the true danger of the situation was crushing. “P-please,” you were begging wholeheartedly but the hiccups interrupting your words were pitiful, “n-not like-- not like this!”

“Just because you don’t want to do something,” he purred, rolling your tail in his hand, “doesn’t mean you won’t do it for me.”

Even though you had planned to raise your arms in defense, he was quicker. He was looming over you, his feathers restrained your wrists high above your head and you noticed a few more flashes of red fluttering around your ankles.

He’s always one step ahead.

With one hand he had unfasted his trousers, his large cock still hidden just behind his boxer shorts. With his other hand, he traced a finger up your thigh, along the curve of your pert cheek, and up to the waistband of your underwear. He slipped the tips of two fingers into the band at the front and you felt the twinge in your abdomen as he pulled gently.

“I’d ask if you think you can be a good little kitten,” Hawks began. He smirked at the mewl that broke through your lips when he pulled just a little more. “But you’re just a liar and thief, aren’t you.”

Any struggle was futile, you already felt so defeated. You hung your head shamefully, shaking as you sobbed with your throat now hoarse and sore.

His fingers gripped tighter at your underwear as he unfurled his long, hard cock. He stroked his shaft lazily while he fingered along the seams just like before, only this time he brushed against your exposed lips where it was nestled just between your slit.

“Let’s just--” he grunted, the slick sound that came from your pussy when he moved your underwear to the side flustered you, “--move these out of the way.”

His fingers roamed your folds, finding your sensitive, swollen clit. You fought the urge to throw your head back, biting your lip to quell the way your body reacted to his touch,

Your clit fluttered beneath his fingertip as he pressed down hard on the bundle of nerves, the circular motion sending electrifying pulses with every rotation.

Dazed. Confused. Disgusted.

Aroused. Needy.

“It- it’s too much,” your voice was strained and whining.

“Oh, come on,” he laughed, “I’m just getting--” with a grunt, he slid two fingers relentlessly into your quivering hole, “--started.”

Yowling, you threw your head back upon hearing the tell-tale squelch of your arousal as he scissored his fingers inside you. He moaned, the grip he had on his cock grew tighter, stroking faster while he struggled to stretch you open enough. Feeling your tight cunt contract around just his fingers this way made him impatient.

You watched helplessly as a group of feathers wrapped themselves around your right ankle and thigh, you stared at him in panic.

“Wh--”

Before you’d barely gotten a word out, the feathers lifted your leg high, you bent your knee as the feathers held your leg just tight enough against the wall.

You whimpered when he removed his fingers. The emptiness was unexpected. He brushed a hand against the front of your skirt, lifting it up to look at you in your exposed state. He was breathing heavily as he stood over you, he didn’t need to shift much before he was able to brush against your presenting hole with his cock.

As he teased your cunt with his tip, he brought his wet fingers to your mouth. You strangled out a cry as he forcibly shoved them in your mouth, stretching it wide. You shut your eyes tightly as your nose began to sting, desperate to hold back more tears that were close to the surface.

He shunted forward, taking you by surprise. The white-hot blistering pain that spread across your body in waves made you unaware that he had buried his hard cock as deeply, and as quickly, as he could. Your cries were desperate as he rolled his hips against you, kissing your cervix with each nudge.

“Pitiful little kitten,” he told you, willing more tears from you as he shunted with short, deep thrusts. When you coughed, choking on your own spit and tears, you could feel his cock tremble as he moaned.

“I-I can’t…. I don’t…” you spluttered incoherently.

He pulled out briefly and he waited. He waited until you so desperately needed him to fill you back up that you let out a frustrated, pathetic whine. You burned as he tore through you.

You felt a hand roam around the small of your back, it was useless trying to fight, you accepted it while he started to knead just above your tail, nipping into the sensitive flesh with his sharp nails. A guttural, animalistic moan escaped your lips as your head lolled back and onto your shoulder.

“You’re too easy,” he growled, digging his nails in further as he pounded your cunt harder.

“N-no, it--” you choked on your words as the pleasure finally took you.

Pain fluttered to ecstasy as you neared orgasm but Hawks liked teasing you. He pulled out again, his cock thick, veins protruding. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you lifted your hips into him, whimpering so needily.

Hawks let out a feral grunt as he pushed hard against you, his cock easily finding your dripping wet entrance as he forced his way inside. You were still so close and you could hear his breathlessness as his cock felt resistance from your tight walls.

Hawks moaned loudly as he hastily groped one of your breasts, he greedily took an erect nipple in his mouth and rolled it around his tongue. His hand squeezed rhythmically. The knot in your abdomen swelled, it was too much.

“ Fuck, fuck-- ” you moaned, long and drawn out as body spasmed beneath him.

His teeth made contact with your nipple and that sent you over. Mewling into your orgasm, you could feel his cock deeper, your cervix being beaten this time, you could feel his cock twitching when you made a pained noise.

“Good--” Hawks lifted his lips away from your nipple, but before he finished speaking, his body convulsed against you, “ Fuuuuck. ” He spasmed again. “ Fu-fuuuuck. ”

You howled, feeling the hot thick ropes of his cum coat your abused walls. He felt so shamelessly good inside you. He pulled his cock out with a pop sound that made you wince. It wasn’t until his feathers released you to fall limp on the floor that you were brought crashing down to reality.

Hawks stood over you as he unceremoniously fastened his trousers before crouching down to you. Your eyes grow wide when his hand reaches between your legs, scooping up your mixed cum on two fingers. He looks at you expectantly.

You knew what to do.

You obeyed by opening your mouth for him to insert his fingers; he does the same as before, stretching your mouth wide. You cough as he coats your tongue with your juices and his seed.

“Good girl,” he finally offered before standing up again.

“What happens now?” you asked, terrified. You tried not to cry again, covering your breasts with your arms as best you could.

“I suggest you quit being a little thief,” he told you, shrugging his jacket from around him. “Or I might just have to get a bit more creative next time.”

He limply threw his jacket toward you. You stared blankly at the tan jacket at your feet but you didn’t even get the chance to put it on before he beat his wings to propel him into the air. You watched as the feathers that had restrained you followed after him to reattach themselves.

Next time?

[amoosewritesfanfic]

[+18]

[Dabi x Fem!Reader]

[Villain x Pro Hero]

[Warnings: drunk sex, aphrodisiac, drugging, mentions of alcohol, rough sex, lipstick marks, runny make up, kinda dub con, swearing, stalker kinda vibes]

[I have no clue what this is, but here ya go, while I'm still busy writing that other thing.]

[I own none of the characters or art! All credit goes to original creators. Edit and story is mine tho]

-

Another bust, Y/N had been working on this case for the past two months, a string of burnt corpses popping up all over the city, it was hard to I.D the bodies but they were apparently some low rate criminals that seemed to piss off the wrong person, this man was named Dabi, his distinctive feature was the burnt skin covering his body, but there was not much else about him that she could find.

But Dabi definitely found out about her, chatter could be heard from a few low rate villains who was starting to chase after him. When he saw Y/N for the first it it was like hos heart was set a flame not because he was in love, no... far from it. He thought;

'This is the one that I'm going to absolutely ruin~'

-

Usually Y/N would have said no, as usual, to any drinks or a night out but her boss happened to tell her to take a break and with a direct order like that she couldn't say no. Her friends were immediately excited to see her rock up in that tight black dress she loved to wear when she went out, the way it hugged her curves and showed off just the right amount of cleavage was pleasing to anyone that looked, of course she wasn't wearing a bra and anyone who would feel her up that night would know.

The black heels making her slightly taller than usual, her hair loose, framing her face. Her lips painted with a pretty black lipstick and somewhat of a smokey eye done giving her that real seductive look.

Y/N had no clue that the man she had been hunting was in this bar and he knew that she was hunting him, of course everyone was, but he had grown infatuated with her specifically. The way her body moved with her friends or the way she laughed with those flushed cheeks had the man eager to see... to feel more of her. He knew when she were about five shots in and a glass of gin and tonic she would be wonky and her perception of who or what was around wouldn't matter.

So that's when he made his move, after all she stood alone ordering what looked to be like another gin, when she wasn't looking a distraction which came from one of her friends he managed to slip something into her drink. A harmless little drug.

Five minutes in she was back on the dance floor having chugged down her gin and almost bouncing off the walls from how good her body felt. Dabi wasted no time in moving in, his eyes watching her now, Y/N noticed him now, not taking in his appearance under the low colourful lights. He moved in closer when he saw that cute little finger beckoning him to come closer to her and he did, he got in close, pulling her back up against him.

She didn't mind, no in fact she grinded her ass against him, her fingers tangled up in his hair as his hands trailed along her curves, giving a few gropes to her ass and breasts. He could hear those cute little moans fall from those pretty little lips grinding her ass more against his slowly hardening cock. He tilted her head slightly, capturing her lips against his, a pierced tongue slyly running along her bottom lip making her part her lips allowing him access to her mouth.

She couldn't help but moan in delight from the way the metal felt against her tongue. Soon he broke away from the kiss, his fingers dancing along the hem of her dress, a deep voice rumbling against her ear making her giddy. "You wanna fuck doll?~" the way his tongue tan over the edge of her ear made her almost moan again but she gave him an eager nod, her body felt far too hot to say no and honestly she felt like this man would give her the pleasure she desired.

With a small smirk against her skin he took her hand and led her to a back room, away from prying eyes. Seems as though her colleagues hadn't even noticed. When the door shut his hand immediately moved around her throat slamming her against the, a small smirk on his lips. He couldn't believe it, the hero that had been chasing him for the past two months was practically moaning for him to fuck her. "Look at you... you look so slutty, like a bitch in heat~" he teased as his free hand pulled down her dress, exposing those pretty breasts, a thumb trailing over the hardening nub.

His hand then dipped between her juicy thighs, running over her, panties, no... a g-string. "What a slutty bitch... and you're so fucking wet too~" he breathed against her ear, earning a quiet moan from her. "D-don't tease me...~" she whimpered as her hand kept his hand between her thighs, he didn't hesitate for a second as he dipped his finger between those slick folds earning an almost desperate moan from her. "Do you want me to fuck you doll face?~" his lips were still pressed against her ear, his hand tightening slightly around her throat, the other wiggling inside her sloppy wet hole.

"Gods yes... please... please fuck me~" she moaned as her fingers dug into his coat. His lips captured hers again before he shifted them again, he pulled his hands away from her body for a moment before he bent her over a nearby table, the room that they happened to be inside seemed to be an office of sorts? Who honestly knew, all that Y/N was thinking about was being plowed until she couldn't think straight.

'If this is how she acts on a simple aphrodisiac what will she act like on a stronger drug...?' He thought as his hand landed a firm smack on her exposed rear making the female yelp her hands gripping the table. "I hope you're on birth control dollface~" he hummed burning off the g-string. "There's no need for this~" he added on, the sound of his zipper being pulled down and that light smack against her ass had the hero whimper almost.

She didn't even need to look back to tell he was rather well endowed, but what really surprised her was the slight bumps she could feel, his hand wrapped around his shaft slowly gliding his tip to rub against, the groan that fell from his lips was drowned out by the moan that fell from her lips as he slid himself inside her, stretching out her walls making her moan in delight, the feeling of his piercings rubbing against her walls made her legs tense up and her back arch slightly.

"F-fuck~♡ you're so big~"

"And this pretty little pussy of yours is taking my cock so well~" he grunted, his hands gripping her hips before thrusting deep inside her, his tip pressing against her cervix making her moan. "Shit...~♡ you're gonna make me cum already~" she whined out. "You better hold it~" he grunted, his hand moving from her hip to her hair, gripping it as his hips started moving, the pace wasn't slow at all, it was rough, the sound of skin smacking against skin filled the room along with grunts and moans from the two of them.

"Oh gods... you're gonna make me cum... your cock is touching all the right spots~ I can't hold it" she whined, he leaned in keeping her head tilted so he could attack her neck as his hips didn't stop, even as her walls slowly tighten around his cock.

"Oi oi oi, you better not cum doll, I'll stop if you cum~" he breathed against her ear as his hand now wrapped around her throat making her gasp out, legs were shaking. "P-please let me cum... I want to cum..~" she managed to breath out, she was so close, she could feel herself slowly reaching that high as much as she tried to stop herself, but oh... she definitely couldn't hold back anymore, her love juices dripped all over his pierced cock, making him grunt slightly from how tight she had gotten, but his thrusting hadn't stopped no, in fact he picked up the pace.

His hips snapping back and forth into her sensitive cunt with his hand tightening around her throat. "W-wait... you're being to rough, if you... ah!"

SMACK!

A bright red hand print was left on her ass, the skin swelling up slightly from the harsh impact of his hand, tears building up from the harsh spank.

"Little sluts who don't listen shouldn't be treated nice, you can't even listen to simple orders I'll have to teach ya a lesson doll face~" he cooed into her ear, his hand easing over the swelling skin, making her wince slightly, his tongue running over the shell of her ear. His hips were pressed up against hers now, not moving at all.

"Now that you've cum don't you think you should make me cum? Hmm~? I think you should let me fuck that pretty little throat until its bruised..." he whispered into her ear, her hips grinded slightly back getting some form of friction from his cock still buried deep inside her. "Huh? Or should I fuck you here...?" His hand trailed over her ass spreading her asscheek slightly before slowly dipping his thumb into her puckered hole squeezing her throat a little tighter making her gasp out.

For him however it almost felt like her pussy walls tightened around his cock. "Oh? Well would ya' look at that doll face~ I just squeezed your throat slightly and your pussy tightened up so much~ or was it my thumb rubbing against your pretty little ass hole?~" he hummed it felt like his thumb heated up against your puckered hole making you gasp out, your back arching. "Are you a horny little masochist? Do you like being choked out and fucked? Nod if that's what ya' like~" he teased and she nodded almost eagerly, her make up seemed to be running down her face from the tears that spilt, but she didn't care...

"What a stupid little masochist..." he murmured.

His hand loosened around her throat before he pulled his cock out of her pussy, it looked like it was twitching but his focus was now on that puckered hole. Dabi let his cock sit between those sweet asscheeks, lubing it up with her pussy juices before he shifted his shaft, pressing the tip against the puckered hole. "W-wait... not so-..." he didn't slid himself into her tight little ass, inside he pulled her up and shoved her onto her knees.

"I'm gonna save it for when you really piss me off~" he hummed as his hand stroked her cheek softly making her look up at him.

"But that doesn't mean that you're let off the hook dollface~ I'm gonna mess up that pretty black lipstick all over that pretty little face of yours~" he hummed trailing a thumb over her bottom lip, forcing her to part her lips, his eyes watching her expression as she ran her tongue over his tip which earned a quiet grunt from him. "Open that pretty mouth doll..." he mumbled as his hand trailed through her hair before giving it a firm grip, her lips immediately parted for him, he wasted no time in sliding himself into her mouth, groaning at how her tongue immediately rubbed against his shaft as it slid into her mouth, he stopped for a moment to let her get use to his size, but slowly pulled back, grinning slightly at the sight of her lipstick already staining his cock, but

"Don't forget to breath."

Was all he said as his hips snapped forward, burying his cock down her throat, making her gag slightly, his grip being firm on her hair made it easier for him to start thrusting, heavy balls smacking against her chin, faint lipstick marks covering his balls and cocks when he pulled back. Cerulean hues watching her eyes tear up and the drool starting to drip from the corners of her lips down onto her breasts or on her thighs. He felt the way her throat tightened and the way her nails dug into the back of his thighs, it made him pick up the pace.

His thrusts were slowly becoming a bit more erratic, with a few more harsh thrusts she could feel him throbbing in her throat, with one last harsh thrust, he buried his cock deep down her throat, his that warm salty essence spurting down her pretty little throat.

Her hands were tapping at his thighs as an indication that she couldn't breath, she almost passed out but he pulled back, his cock falling from her lips as he examined her face.

Mascara running down her skin and her lipstick smudged with strings of salvia connecting from her lips to his cock.

He loosened his hold on her hair, threading his fingers through the slightly matted locks. "I can't wait to use you more... do you want that doll face?" His words were soft as his fingers played with her hair as some means of 'aftercare'

She gave a slow nod, she looked like a dog waiting for it's master to give an order...

And gods it would be so wrong for the villain not to use that to his hearts content.

"Good, cause this is far from over my cute little hero~" he taunted and Y/N let the words fly over her head, it wouldn't be until the next morning that she would find her hands cuffed to the bed, her pussy feeling oddly full and her legs feeling sore along with her throat, yet she felt she was on a soft bed...

How smashed did she get...?

"Oh, you're awake~" that slightly familiar voice teased out, she looked up towards the source, there was standing with his hands shoved into his pockets a smug smile on his face, the scars on his face confused her for a moment before everything clicked in place.

"Dabi..." she whispered.

"Oh you figured it out hero~ how adorable~" he cooed clapping his hands together. "I can't let you go." He said as he moved closer, "shame you can't use your quirk would of been more fun if you fought, but it was more entertaining to watch a hero fall in a pool of ecstasy last night. It was fuckin' cute the way you be-..." "Shut up." She blushed, looking away from him, but feeling of him gripping her face made her whimper and look up at him.

"I think it would be more fun to fuck you while you're sober, you'll break so easy because of how weak you are~" He hummed a thumb trailing over her bottom lip.

"Oh I can't wait to fuck you into submission~" the way he had said it had her body throb in... delight? No... it had to be disgust delight

-

-

[I still have no clue what this was but I hope you enjoyed it :3]

[chocolateheart]

Bite it

Title: Bite it

Word count: 919

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You struggle with some back pain and Dean is there to help.

Warnings: 18+, Dean's hands, Dean's lips, Dean's teeth, Dean's voice, teasing Dean, tempting Dean, biting, sexual tension, 'lil bit of smut

A/N: This is my (too long) drabble for @jay-and-dean​ 1,5k followers celebration. Honey, congrats again, you deserved this! My prompt was "Bite it" and I had no idea it's that hard to write less than 1k words. But there ya go! I hope you'll enjoy that! A/N: Thank you to my sweet beta @winchest09​ for giving this piece a quick look and ensuring me it doesn't suck. Love you, girl!

**********

Dean started on your ankles. 

You smiled, feeling his calloused fingers travelling up your legs as you were laying on your stomach and leaning on your elbows on the bed. He stopped in the hollow of your knees and squeezed a little, then continued. Slowly massaging your thighs, he sat astride you, knees on both sides of your calves. You closed your eyes, focusing only on the feeling he was giving you. 

His touch was firm, deliciously pressing on your every muscle, dragging quiet moans from your throat. First he roamed big circles on the back of your thighs and you laid down, putting your cheek to his pillow, inhaling his smell. Dean followed the underline of your asscheeks and then he gripped them, slightly digging his fingers in. You gasped when suddenly his teeth scraped your skin there; his low chuckle made you smile. 

"Better?" Dean’s deep voice vibrated across your body as his palms appeared on your lower back, the pressure pushing you into the mattress. You felt how tension and pain slowly faded, thanks to his efficient hands. 

"Much better," you answered with relief. 

The last few days had been a nightmare; you’d slept badly, the bed in the motel you stayed in during the hunt was a devil's creation and a hunt itself throwed you on the wall. Literally. 

So when Dean offered you his help, you took your clothes off faster than he could blink. After a hot, relaxing shower, he found you stretched and naked on his memory foam.

Dean moved up your back, following your spine, gently pressing on it with his knuckles and a satisfied groan escaped you. He shifted to make himself more comfortable and you smiled, feeling his cock against your ass. 

"Someone's up," you teased and he bent down, placing open mouthed kisses between your shoulder blades that he caressed firmly.

"You know how much I love your body, Y/N," he muttered with a smile in his voice before applying more pressure. 

Shoulders, arms, sides, back, lower back, and so on. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your muscles, spreading pleasurable warmth all over your body. With time he started to use his mouth more often; hot lips trailing wet but burning lines on your flesh, teeth nipping every so often, making you bite your lip and moan louder. You couldn't stop your imagination; heat growing up, wetness gradually pooling between your legs.  

Dean came back to your butt, tasting your skin as his hands kept working. You spread your legs automatically, instinctively giving him access he gladly used. Gripping your ass hard, he dipped down and his hot tongue traced along your pussy, causing you to grab the sheets. Just once, just to wake you up completely and then he kissed his way back up to you.

He loved building you up, teasing, tempting. You got eager very easily with Dean, especially when those strong hands mapped your figure; not to mention his sinful lips that poured more oil onto the fire. The thought of turning around, pulling him into passionate kiss and letting him fuck the life out of you crossed your mind at least five times. 

"This soft skin," his whisper tickled you as he continued talking in this smooth tone, kissing every inch of you. "Your strong but fragile body that I need to protect. Your back that I love caressing when you lay next to me, your arms wrapping around me everytime I'm coming back home or at night, to make sure that I'm not going anywhere."

Every word he said was like lighting, sending electricity coursing through your bones. You started twisting a little, your breath quickened  and your head went dizzy. Goosebumps erupted in waves, shivers trembled your body, the knot in your stomach tightened and you were pretty sure he was putting some kind of spell on you, because you couldn't focus or think rationally anymore.

He ran his hands up your sides to your shoulders and down your arms which he spreaded; catching your wrists, he bent down. 

"Your neck. Slender, sexy, unbelievably tempting, begging me…to bite," he emphasised his last word in a way that made you swallow hard, images popping up into your head. 

"Bite it," you said weakly, fisting your hands.

"What?" he asked and you could sense amusement in his voice.

"Bite it," you repeated but instead of following your pleas, his mouth appeared next to your ear.

"What did you say?" he teased, brushing his lips on the nape of your neck.

"Bite it!" you ordered and he laughed shortly. 

Next second, his teeth sinked in the back of your neck and you inhaled sharply. He purred, sucking as one of his hands slid under you, fingers briefly touching your aching clit. 

Your walls clenched around nothing and you moaned when he bit on the side of your neck, marking you again. Unconsciously, he bucked his hips into your ass and you realised how hard he was. You rocked up, pushing on him encouragingly. Dean groaned and pressed you down, not letting you destroy his plans for this evening.

"Dean," you whined, shifting under him. 

"Shhh," he whispered, your eyes rolled back on the feeling of his tongue and lips playing with your ear. You were so worked up. "Let me take care of you tonight, sweetheart. Because I think some parts of your body still aches." 

Hearing this damn cockyness in his voice, you laughed. 

"You better take care of me well, Winchester."

**********

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed that little piece! Feel free to leave some feedback, I’ll take any criticism on my chest.

Tags: @deanwanddamons​ @katehuntington​ @winchest09​ @bunkerconfessions​ @snffbeebee​ @roonyxx​ @jay-and-dean​

[rhabakoli]

Your writing is just- WOW. May I please request a one shot of Geralt getting jealous, confessed feelings and some rough possessive sexy times?

HI!  I did not forget. I didn’t I swear. I just rly struggled with this, and I’ve decided it’s not gonna get better, so here it is. 

@dreamwritesimagines @alwaysadreamingoptimist

ENJOY! 

Geralt had been trailing behind Jaskier all day, made sure he wasn’t alone and unprotected. Never let him out of his sight. 

Okay, maybe he was a bit overprotective, but could you blame him? Jaskier was rather unobservant and oblivious on a good day, he rarely caught danger until it hit him in the face. But that’s what Geralt was here for. And alas, as he stopped watching Jaskier to inspect some leather-bound books and fine quills, someone promptly saw their chance. Big, burly, face like a potato that fell onto the floor one too many times, no sense for personal space and social boundaries. Geralt growled and his brain completely shut off when the stranger took Jaskier by the arm and attempted to pull him away. He was by his side immediately, face terrifying to look at and posture clearly tense and ready to pounce. Jask was struggling against the man’s hold on his arm and didn’t notice Geralt until he talked. “You better take your hand off my man, or I’ll do it for you.” Jask would deny his squawk until the day he died, but he was glad for Geralt’s appearance still. The stranger sneered and ran his eyes over Geralt, before looking back at Jaskier. “That guy with you?” Before he could answer, Geralt pulled him close, pressed a kiss to his temple and growled: “Got a problem?” Jaskier’s heart fluttered at the possessive display and he curled his hand tighter into his bag to stop himself from clinging to Geralt. He’d surely not appreciate the bard taking advantage when he just wanted to help. So he forced himself to relax and put a smile on his face – when all he wanted to do was to turn in Geralt’s embrace and tuck his face against his neck and never let go. Why did he always have to fall for the wrong ones? The unapproachable ones? Potatoface let go of Jaskier’s arm and murmured something that made Geralt growl even fiercer, louder. “Leave right now and I’ll let you live.” 

He didn’t really want to let him live, not after he frightened and hurt his bard. The monster inside him fought for control, but Geralt knew if he let loose, the result would not be pretty and for now he needed to get Jaskier out of this place. “If you’re fast enough, I won’t even hunt you down.” Jaskier’s eyes got all big and round, the shock obvious. “Geralt!” The Witcher hushed him softly, his arm tightening around him. “It’s okay, shh.”   Potatoface seemed to smarten up and decide to keep his life, because he scoffed and stomped away. Geralt stared after him, trying to make him fall to the floor in a heap of dead flesh, but he – fortunately – did not have that kind of power. Jaskier blinked, trying to progress the Witcher’s hands still on him. He also didn’t seem to be in a hurry to let the bard go, which – weird? “Uh, Geralt-“ His head whipped around, golden eyes focused on Jaskier. “Are you okay?” Taken aback, Jaskier nodded. What the fuck was even going on?   “Good.” He turned, arm still around the bard and stalked off into the opposite direction. “Wait, what the fuck did he say? Geralt!” He completely ignored Jaskier’s protests and just hauled him away, through the side streets until he stopped at a little tavern. He opened the door, shoved the bard through. “Wait, Geralt, what-“ “For fucks sake, please shut up for just a moment.” Geralt nodded at the bartender as they walked by, towards the stairs. Did he have a room here? They only just arrived this morning, how did he already have a room? “Geralt-“ The Witcher growled, whirled him around and grabbed his jaw. “Jaskier. Shut. Up.” His eyes were dark and a testament to his self-control because they looked absolutely wild. Jaskier came to realized just how tense Geralt was. He snapped his mouth shut and nodded. Or tried to. Geralt’s big hand restricted him somewhat and Jaskier tried so hard to keep his brain and body under control. He’d dreamed of Geralt holding him like this, but in a wholly different context. “Upstairs.” Geralt jerked his head, telling Jaskier to go up, to fucking move. His hand let him go and instead touched his lower back, guiding him. It felt weirdly intimate and warm, and Jaskier was confused.

Geralt was seething inside. Seeing that brute, that sleazy fucker touch Jaskier, his bard – he could be glad Geralt didn’t cut him down right there. And then he felt the other relax against him, let himself be taken care of- fuck, his insides did somersaults. If he would just do what he was told without talking back one fucking time. Just fucking once. Once in his room, he locked the door and braced his hands against it, just breathing for a moment. He needed to calm down. Otherwise he’d do something stupid, he knew. Something like kiss Jaskier. Or hoist him up and fuck him against the door. A hand touched his back, right between his shoulders. “Geralt?” Jaskier sounded concerned, cautious. Geralt tried to relax, unclench his jaw and let down his shoulders from where they were pulled up to his ears. How would he ever live if anything happened to his bard? If he ever took interest in someone, real interest? Jealousy reared its head again, ugly creature like it was. It sharpened its claws, whet them on his ribs and it hurt. “Hey, nothing happened.” Jaskier’s voice was soft, comforting, as if he were shushing a wild animal; he was, in a way. He wasn’t sure what was going on inside the Witcher’s head, but he did relax under his hands, just slightly. It was a start. Geralt mumbled something under his breath, barely audible and it frustrated Jaskier to no end. “Could you please speak up, I wasn’t gifted with superior hearing, my friend.” Oh. Oh shit. Geralt tensed all over again, his back hunched and his hands on the door curled to fists. Shit, what did he say? Before Jaskier could backtrack in any way, Geralt had whirled around, grabbed him and pushed him against the door. The bard was caged in by this big, thick man, and It probably should not make him feel this safe. Still, Jaskier hoped Geralt would chalk his erratic breath up to the sudden change of position and proximity. The hand on his hip burned through the material of his clothes, the other had found it’s way to his jaw once more, Geralt’s thumb right over his pulse point. “I am not your friend.” Jaskier froze, both at the words and the sound of his voice. He sounded raw, hurt, pained. He didn’t think he’d ever heard him like that before. “What?” Geralt refused to meet Jaskier’s eyes and focused on his eyebrows instead, then his nose, his lips. “I can’t be your friend, Jaskier.” A humorless chuckle left his lips. “I can’t watch you, day in day out and pretend to be your friend. I can’t pretend to not want you any longer, I’m sorry.” Geralt pushed away, back to the bard and rubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck, the things you make me say.” Jaskier needed a couple of seconds to process whatever Geralt had just told him. Has it been… a confession? Did Geralt feel more than just annoyed fondness for him? Did he – Did he like him??? “Geralt-“ He had to clear his throat before continuing. “Geralt, what do you want?” He watched the Witcher’s ribcage expand with every breath he took, watched him turn his head. The tension was palpable, made it hard to breathe. Jaskier was sure he would pass out any second, if Geralt decided to stall. He didn’t need to worry. The Witcher let out a deep sigh and sunk down on the bed, elbows on his knees. “I want you.” When he looked up, his face was so open, so earnest, Jaskier knees almost gave out. “I want to be close to you at all times, I want to be on your mind at all times.” Geralt watched the bard come closer. “I want to kiss and touch you.” Jaskier chose to ignore the way his man’s voice had cracked in the middle there; instead, he made a place for himself between Geralt’s knees and forced him to sit up straight, lean back a bit even. “Geralt.” Jaskier cupped his face, brushed his thumbs along his cheekbones. The motion was so tender and loving and strange to Geralt, it send a shiver down his spine. “You are the most amazing idiot on this whole wide world, I swear.” Geralt watched his lips move, watched him smile so bright it could take out a vampire; he was mesmerized. “Geralt, you can touch me. You can also kiss me.” The words got stuck in his ear canal somewhere, because it took a second for Geralt to react. But then his hands lifted from his thighs to wrap around the back of Jaskier’s thighs, mapping the territory. “I can?” “Yes, love.” Bad choice of words. Jaskier squealed as Geralt hoisted him up and over his shoulder so he’d land on the bed with a hefty oof and a bounce. Geralt was upon him not much later, straddling him and holding his face in his hands. “Are you sure?” Jaskier scoffed and mirrored Geralt. The stubble on his cheeks tickled his palms as he answered: “No, you’re delusional, my friend.” A child would have noticed the sarcasm in his words. Geralt growled and kissed Jaskier. Finally. He grinned, giddy happiness filling him. He couldn’t believe it. And neither could Jaskier.   Their kisses were hot and messy, sloppy even. Hair was pulled, lips were nipped, it was harsh and wild. “Grind down on me, Geralt, come on.” Jaskier ran a hand down Geralt’s back and cupped his asscheek, then squeezed.   “I know you want to.” Geralt didn’t wait for Jaskier to maybe change his mind. He moved his hips, rhythm fast and hard immediately. He’d been holding back for too long, he just wanted to feel and hear and taste and see. “Fuck.” Jaskier moaned at Geralt’s curse, his stomach somersaulting. “Geralt, you’re so fucking hot. So precious too, fuck” It felt delicious, the way Jaskier’s bulge rubbed along Geralt’s dick and balls, caught just behind his balls, if he moved just right. He groaned into Jaskier’s skin, right underneath his jaw, where he left red blotches, little marks that would hopefully bloom into pretty bruises. He needed to leave his claim in a way that was impossible to miss. He had to. He buried his hand in his bard’s hair, the brown locks spilling from between his fingers. “You smell so good, Jask.” His senses were filled with both their arousal, precum, desire, love. “I want to make you smell like me, Jask.” The bard laughed, a deep chuckle that was music to Geralt’s ears. “Oh, you possessive idiot.”   He lifted his lips just a bit to rut against the Witcher. His eyes were half-closed, his lips shiny with spit and swollen from their aggressive kissing.   He shifted under Geralt, lazy smile on his lips. “I want you to fuck me.” The witcher froze, just for a second, before he cursed and scrambled off the bard. His hands fumbled with his breeches’ laces while he commanded Jaskier to undress as well. He looked up, white strands hanging into his eyes, hair completely disheveled. “Please,” he added.

Fuck, if that wasn’t a sign for the heavens. Geralt, big badass monster hunter, terrifying Witcher, had asked nicely and looked almost chastised while doing so. The bard had to be careful not to blow his load right then. They didn’t take long to undress. Clothing was flung to the floor, boots kicked under the bed when Geralt got on and crawled back to Jaskier. The bard was a sight for sore eyes, one hand on his thigh, the other was slowly stroking his dick. Geralt had to stare for a bit; fuck did he want to taste. Maybe later. He let his hands trail up Jaskier’s thighs, until he could bring them back around to his ass and haul him in, bring him closer. “You’re driving me crazy, bard.” “Good.” Oh, how smug he sounded. Jaskier procured a vial of oil from somewhere, Geralt had no idea. But he didn’t particularly care, there was barely enough blood left in his brain to think straight. Or as straight as he was able to. He took the vial with a sweet kiss on Jaskier’s lips. As he pulled back, his eyes fell upon the bard’s neck, mottled with spots and bites. Yes. Carnal possessiveness flooded his veins, and his cock started throbbing even more, precum dribbling from his tip. “Oh, how handsome you are, Geralt.” The bard ogled Geralts cock, then wiggled his hips. “Don’t make me wait.” “Yes.” Geralt snapped out of it, opened the vial and coated his fingers in the liquid. He wrapped one hand around Jaskier’s on his hip, then circled the bard’s rim. He clenched in anticipation, his hips moving again in an effort to make Geralt hurry up. “Geralt. Now.” “Oh, yes.” He pressed one finger in, surprised to find no resistance at all. Still, he took it slow, took his time, until Jaskier urged him on once again. “You will add another finger or I will do it myself.” And so he did. And they went in so smoothly, he almost lost his mind. Why was he so loose? Why was there no resistance? He should have to stretch him, what was going on? And then It hit him. He was already stretched. He’d had someone’s dick up his ass and it hasn’t been long enough to tighten back up. It also hasn’t been Geralt’s cock. A deep, vicious growl erupted from his chest, his fingers crocking and suddenly fucking into Jaskier at a mad pace. “Did you sleep with someone?” He grunted at one of Jaskier’s whines and spread his fingers, scissoring his bard’s hole. “Did you let someone else fuck you? Were you lying?” His voice was just as dark as his growl, the both of them layering and making Jaskier shiver underneath him. He tried to speak, but Geralt’s assault on him felt too good. He got a small break when Geralt shifted closer, latched onto his shoulder and buried his teeth there, probably leaving a very prominent mark. “No, I- ah. I fingered myself to the thought of you!” Geralt froze. He felt like his brain had been blown out, his heart crushed. He… what? Jaskier startled when Geralt suddenly pulled back with that blank, wide-eyed look on his face. They stared at each other, the bard too startled too move and the Witcher too shellshocked. Only when Geralt let out a low and breathy whine, almost like a hurt animal, did Jaskier remember his ability to move. He sat up slightly, reached for Geralt; did not get far. Geralt wrapped his hands around Jaskier’s hand and wrist, his other hand clenching at the bard’s hip. “Julian.” The mood toppled, shifted, desire burning in their veins like dry wood in the kiln. The were upon each other, skin to skin, Geralt back to fingering his bard, get him ready; he couldn’t wait much longer. It was hot, it was sticky and slick and if Geralt wasn’t gonna fuck him soon, Jaskier thought he’d have to die. “Come on, Geralt. Please.” Oh, and could he ever resist when Jaskier begged. Never.   He hooked one of his legs over his arm and rubbed the head of his cock against Jaskiers hole. “Breathe.” And then he pushed in. Jaskier’s eyes rolled back, his mouth fell open and he let out a choked gasp. Fuck, it was so much better than imagined. He was half sure he was babbling, but Geralt didn’t seem to mind or even notice. He just kneeled there, his fingers pressed into Jaskier’s skin as if he needed something to anchor himself. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back and his chest heaving. He drew in air, shakily, and when he exhaled, Jaskier’s body twitched.   His name had never sounded better than when it spilled from Geralt’s lips like a prayer, like something precious. “Julian.” A dam broke. Or a wall. Didn’t matter, something broke. Something gave way and Jaskier loved it. Geralt fucked into him without mercy, without caring if he left bruises or marks. He even kissed any red spots he could reach, murmured his possessiveness into Jaskier’s skin. And while Jaskier was absolutely on board with all of that, he felt almost overwhelmed. He’d loved for so long, careful not to let Geralt see. And now he was tangled with Geralt, on the bed, the sheets sticky and a mess, and it was exhilarating. He raked his nails down Geralt’s arm and bucked against him, tried to find a rhythm, but Geralt simply fucked him into submission. “Just take me, Jaskier, take all of me. You’re mine.” Fuck. Geralt shifted, bent Jaskier into half and adjusted his thrusts. Harder. Faster. Better. Jaskier was leaking precum, his dick now trapped between them and the friction drove him crazy. Absolutely crazy. Geralt held his legs in place, his forehead pressed against his calf as he took him apart. “You’re perfect. You’re mine. I’ll make you remember that.” A deep, rough growl revibrated through Geralts chest and Jaskiers body. He keened, threw his head back, begged. He needed release, he needed to cum. He needed it. “Please, Geralt. Please.” “Mine.” “Please.” Geralt picked up the pace; it became even more inhuman, animalistic. No mortal would have been able to keep it up. Jaskier himself felt like dying, his whole body overwhelmed and coiled tight. Geralt suddenly pulled out, just when Jaskier was about to break, and he flipped him around, manhandled him into a preferred position. He was like a blanket of fire along Jaskier’s back, the heat he radiated making sure his lover wasn’t getting cold. A soft kiss was pressed to Jaskier’ temple before Geralt sat up. He was positioned on Jaskiers now stretched legs. His cock, fat and swollen and leaking was situated between the bards asscheeks; the view was too nice. Geralt ran his hands down Jaskier’s back. His unmarred, unmarked back. No. Mark him, mark him up. Geralt shifted forward, his hands in the bedsheets next to Jaskier and his lips latched to the top of his spine. He licked and bit and grinded his cock against his bards ass, all the while growling and whispering praise. Jaskier felt so empty, and the grinding cock on his ass was the worst of teasing. He whined, pressed back against his witcher and raised his hips. “Don’t be fucking mean, get back into me already.” Geralt chuckled and bit the skin stretching over his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. “Patience, Julian.” Jaskier pressed his face into the sheets and wriggled in frustration. “Fuck.” He raised his hips as much as possible and reached down to take himself in hand; did not go well. Geralt stopped him with a hand wrapped around his arm and pulled it from between the bed and Jask’s body. “So, that’s how needy we are, huh?” He raised both Jaskier’s arms over his head and held them there with one hand. The other caressed his ass, squeezing and stroking in cirlces, before he smacked the left cheek. “You’re so needy, can’t even wait?” Another smack, the sting making Jaskier drool a bit. “Well then.” Geralt’s voice was so unbelievably gravely and bassy, Jaskier could feel every word he said in his chest. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.” He chuckled. “Take me then.” He pressed in, his thick cock breaching Jaskier once again, but the angle was different. The bard couldn’t not, he started moaning and pushing back, eager to take him in, to be filled to the brim. He wanted to cum, he needed Geralt to fuck him. And he did. Straight up resumed in the pace he’d left off earlier, the friction fucking delicious. His arms were still held hostage, therefore Jaskier didn’t have much room to move, but fuck, if that wasn’t half the appeal. “You’re mine, Julian. Mine.” Geralt murmured right into the bards ear. “Cum for me, my pretty flower.”

[arclucifer666]

Acceptance

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2118

Summary:  It is the first time they have sex after Dean returns from Purgatory, and Sam's brother is even rougher around the edges.   

AO3

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Sam's back hits the mattress hard, teeth clicking together, but luckily he doesn't bite his tongue.

Boots and socks are the first to come out.

He doesn't react. Cannot. Neither wants to.

A knife and it starts ripping his clothes, jeans first. The blade touches his skin in some places, which remains intact, however.

Familiar green eyes show hunger, anger, and something dark. Something that is directed at monsters when they are hunting. But Sam is the only monster here, the freak that Dean should've killed many years ago.

And maybe his passivity has something to do with the need for purification that never left his thoughts.

The Cage was not enough.

A feeling of impurity has always been there, inside him, in his soul. He's a failure in a family of hunters and heroes. He's a hunter, but not a hero, and perhaps the righteous man can purify him once and for all.

Dean's blade cuts through his shirt and then his undershirt, precise, destroying the false security his clothes bring to him. Hands throw the useless pieces on the floor, and his underwear is the only thing preventing his nakedness.

He can hear his own heartbeat under the scrutiny of hungry eyes.

"Less muscle. I think I like that."

The first touch on his groin is gentle, just massaging, stimulating, and his body starts to react. It's inevitable. But then Sam remembers he wants it. And this is better than the contempt and anger that became the rule after Dean's return from Purgatory.

"How long?"

The question surprises him. Why does Dean want to know this?

Two broken souls that were trying to survive. Sam was dead inside anyway.

Clenching his fists, he tries to answer, "I-"

Fingers squeeze his balls, but the pain is welcome too. Anything that makes him feel alive again.

"It doesn't matter, Sam. No longer."

The pressure is gone.

That voice has always done things for him, but the barely contained rage he hears now has never been this bad.

Dean's knife cuts again, and this time the blade touches with purpose, navel, waist, groin, and finally, the erect cock against his belly.

"It would be so easy."

Sam prepares himself for pain.

He watches the knife move towards his balls. Sensitive skin wrinkles with the unwanted touch and tension makes his skin sweat.

"But then I would have to bring you back again."

Dean seems to give up on the idea and pull the knife away. So, he pushes Sam's right leg up, planting the sole of his foot on the bed. A touch of the knife handle on his inner thigh is enough for him to know he's to do the same with his left leg. And he's never felt so exposed before, not even at those times Dean wanted to tie him to a bed.

He holds his breath for a moment when feels the tip of the knife on his perineum, so gentle, barely there at all.

Noticing a stain on the ceiling, Sam fixes his gaze on the small imperfection. Like him.

"So perfect, Sammy."

The paradox of the century.

Cold fingers touch his skin and pull an asscheek apart, leaving him even more open. Dean's blade goes down, and clenching is an automatic reaction.

"Shh, I suggest that you relax as much as you can," Dean instructs, sounding calm and controlled.

But talking is much easier than doing when there's the tip of a fucking knife against his hole.

The stain on the ceiling has uneven edges, Sam notices. The knife does not observe any regularity, following the wishes of its owner.

Not knowing what his brother wants is perhaps the most unnerving part. The Dean who returned from Purgatory is not the same man who disappeared in that damn lab as if by magic. There are sharp edges, violence, and pleasure in killing that weren't in him before. Not on a scary frequency, anyway.

The contact stops, and his skin doesn't seem to fit him anymore. Something hard is against his lips then. Sam opens his eyes—which closed at some point without him even noticing—to find the knife handle asking for entrance and Dean looking at him.

"You better get this wet."

Sam does, knowing what comes next. But his traitor cock twitches against his belly in perspective anyway.

"Good boy."

A few more inches inside him and Sam sucks, the odd shape fucking his mouth.

"It reminds me of how much I like to see you choking on my dick, Sam."

With what he sees on his brother's face, choking on Dean's dick is the only thing that would happen during a blow job right now.

"Another day, though, because my plans for today are more interesting."

Interesting wouldn't be the right word for the events of the night.

It doesn't take long for Dean to look satisfied and return to his previous position between Sam's legs.

The finger, although familiar, is unexpected.

"Did anyone touch you here?"

The gentleness on the sensitive skin is so different from the anger he hears in Dean's voice.

Sam covers his eyes with a forearm while enjoying the pleasure that Dean's touch still causes in his body. Small circles that caress but don't penetrate him.

He means to say yes to the question, wants to tell Dean about the times when he held a delicate wrist and pressed too thin fingers where only Dean had been before just to be able to remember what he'd missed. Nights that ended up with him drunk and crying for something he would never have again.

"No, Dean." The lie comes out easy and convincing to his own ears.

"I don't know what I'd do if I found out that someone touched what they shouldn't have."

Promises of pain are what Sam hears. And he sighs relieved that he hasn't put her in danger.

Sam groans his frustration when the finger disappears, and Dean's laugh gets him out of his hiding place. And how Sam missed that mischievous look, even when it meant pranks, most of the time, in the past that seems so distant.

"Still the same little slut as always, don't you, Sammy?"

Sam tries to show neutrality he doesn't feel, not when his cock is still rock hard and his hands grab the sheets.

He's transparent, and Dean can see every detail.

"I'll give you what you need, little brother, like I always do."

Like all those times when you dumped me in a Plucky Pennywhistle to go fuck girls? Or how did you side with Dad when I got the letter saying I'd been accepted into Stanford? Or then when you didn't trust me and in my ability as a hunter?

His thoughts are interrupted by the hardness of something against his hole, and it's nothing like the finger from before or even the silicone toys that Dean liked to play with.

An image of the knife forms in Sam's mind; he knows precisely what part of the handle is going through his entrance. In principle, it's just pressure until the entire end of the handle enters. Sam grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, trying to relax. The image of the stain now is blurred by the tears that form in his eyes.

"There were only monsters there, Sammy. I missed something as perfect as this."

Perfection. The same word. But there is nothing perfect about having the handle of a knife stuck in his hole by his own brother.

A tear runs down the corner of Sam's right eye even when his vision clears, and he knows that that will be the only one tonight.

He'll make sure of this.

"Somehow…"

Dean pushes the handle further, but Sam's body begins to accept the intrusion, pain turning into a slow burn. His erection is gone, though.

"It was bloody. Messy. Thirty-one flavors of bottom-dwelling nasties. Hell, most days felt like 360-degree combat. But there was something about being there."

Sam's chest aches with what Dean says even as the movements inside him make his mind aware of the pleasure beginning to surround him again.

"It felt pure, Sammy."

Sam feels like he can't breathe. Purity. What he always wanted. But he was tainted at six months of age, and sometimes the phantom taste of demon blood is still there, impregnated in his tongue.

"I wouldn't have minded staying there longer. Killed as many sons of bitches as possible."

Dean moves the knife like a damn dildo, forcing his body to accept the strange shape. At some point, though, it's more pleasure than strangeness, insufficient to make him come, but good enough to keep him on edge.

"But I couldn't be without you anymore."

Some abrupt movement and it hurts.

Sam also can't live without Dean and the more he thinks about it, the more he's sure that neither of them can live without the other. What he'd after Dean's vanishing was not life. It was more like going through the days, an automaton in a world that no longer made sense.

"And I need you now." The wanting Sam hears in that deep voice is almost too much for him.

The handle is pulled out, still odd, but it's easier than the entrance was.

Wild eyes stare at him. "It's always you, Sammy. It all starts and ends with you."

It's more than a promise, mutual now, Sam is sure.

"On all fours."

He doesn't have much choice here, a fight—which he'll probably lose—or being mounted like a bitch in heat. The second option is the only one that makes sense, though, even when humiliation and shame burn his cheeks and his hole clenches like it gets a mind of its own.

So much time in the same uncomfortable position has an effect on Sam's legs, and they tremble as he moves into the new position, equally exposed and vulnerable.

The sound of a zipper, warmth of callused hands on his asscheeks, massaging and exposing him again, and finally, the heat and hardness that he missed so much, as difficult as it's for him to admit it. The large head touches sensitive skin, there is no waiting for permission, just taking, invading, and settling in as if that had always belonged there, but it's more like coming home, actually.

He lets out a sharp cry, and his chest falls against the sheets, too weak to fight his body coming alive after more than a fucking year of separation.

Hands find their place on his hips, though now they burn like a brand on his skin, appropriating him again. And this is when Sam allows himself to recognize he needs this as much as his brother does.

Sam can't stifle the little pathetic moan that pours out of his mouth when the stimulation on his prostate starts feeling good. Dean's cock is so present that he doesn't want to feel anything inside him other than this.

At some point, weakness turns to lust and he manages to lean on his hands again, fucking against Dean's impulses with the same ferocity. And sex has never been so savage and primal between them before. Still, he craves it with all his strength, desperate to feel something again, to feel alive again.

"It's been so long since we'd this. Fuck. Missed it, little brother."

"Me too, Dean," he admits in a wrecked voice, his orgasm building within him. "I need you…Always."

Strong arms wrap around his chest and haul him up, his back against Dean's chest, the softness of the shirt brushing against his sweaty skin. And his big brother is so solid against him, so real.

A hand wraps around his cock, sharp pain from teeth biting on his shoulder, and a groan rips through him with his climax, which is so intense that it consumes his force. Only Dean's arms keep him on his knees on the bed. Hips that barely move at all, the soft tongue that licks the bite, and Sam throws his head back on his brother's shoulder.

His eyes turn to the stain on the ceiling again, which watches them regardless of its own imperfection.

Liquid heat spreads inside him. And only now does he realize how he missed this and as well as that old feeling of belonging, one that he was able to experience just with his brother.

Sam still feels like that damn stain, however. But now he is no longer alone in his imperfection and impurity because Dean is like him. There is no life for any of them without the other. And Sam can accept who he is once and for all.

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate! AU (1)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 4.5k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to writeopinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

AN OPINION ON THE SOULMATE BOND by Alex Fireflower

The Porta Persa Edition, August 17

If the appeal of romance and the idea that a person whose devotion to us shall surpass eternity exists in our midst, among the younger generations, if there was any doubt in this matter, then the recent excitement for the coming Soulmate Bonding Ceremony is its colorful illustration. Alas, our dear friends of the State! It is once again time for the great and olden tradition of Soulmate Bonding. Here in this land of abundance and prosperity which gifts are said to be owed to this venerable ceremony, we must lay upon our trust and our fate to ancient magic, which we wholly believe shall lead our hearts to our destined soulmate--our lifetime partner, the other half of our soul, and so on. 

Yet our dear readers, allow this humble editor to argue the opposite. 

 It is established that the magic of Soulmate Bonding allows two persons, at most random strangers, to be paired together for a lifetime; sharing either emotions, thoughts or senses. Such a practice has always been placed under a rose-colored light by the government which, if simplified in broad terms is, in our opinion, a blatant propaganda for an obsolete tradition which endangers the wellbeing of our citizens, a practice which limits responsibility and free will, core values of which this land has been founded upon.

 If we shall suppose that a relationship between soulmates is perfect and blessed upon by the great heavens, then cases of arguments and cases of abuses would not exist as pests of our society, the destroyer of families and the trauma of children. If soulmate relationships are the pinnacle of success in family life, then divorce laws do not have any purpose to exist in our civil code, as custody battles do not have a place in our respectable courts. We are all blinded by the garish lighting provided by this dictatorship; through their flowery and romanticised propaganda we hear in the radios everyday as we sit down for breakfast or as we enjoy our pudding after dinner. This poor excuse of a government which has deceived its own people, seeks absolute authority through the most invasive ways known to man, inside the most intimate partnership a human being could experience in their entire life.

 By consuming this tomfoolery, we become puppets to romance, to impossible dreams, thus vulnerable to the mandates of this dictatorship. It is said that men, whose eyes are set high above the heavens, are doomed to fall off the cliff’s edge. There ought to be balance between idealism and pragmatism, lest we suffer the consequences of our own torn expectations of a perfect relationship and a good life. By relinquishing our right to choose, to exercise free will, we then must forget our roles as individuals, solely responsible for the effects of our choices. We then shall blame it on neutral magic, on fate and the Universe, the mistakes of our own doing. Aye indeed, let us ought to create the most convenient escape from our own flaws and our indecisiveness. Let us forever be destined to depend our lives upon the forces of the Universe, upon accidents of Nature!...

You smelled like ink. 

 The ugly, artificial scent of a printing press; ink. You had it on your hands as well, catching a freshly pressed newspaper as the midnight breeze blew upon a stack by the window. It was late yet the machine kept whirring, pressing, printing as piles of paper grew into hills and mountains of South Porta Persa.

 It would truly be unlucky to trip and make a mess of everything right now, you thought, inspecting the warm paper for any misspelt words or misaligned layouts with a careful eye. 

 “Good enough for' ya, darlin’?” A voice deep and rumbling interrupted your close inspection, his tone mischievous and mirthful as he wiped his hands clean on his trusty apron, the metal wrenches on it clattering about.

 It was good ole’ Jupiter, the ruler of the mechanical movable type in grand Porta Persa, a man late in his forties with a receding hairline to match. You had always liked him since you were a child, in his long beard and ink stained hands, and his various adventures at sea in his large Galleon. Yet now he is a master of the press, and you were his client.

 Giving a satisfied smile, you shrugged, placing the newspaper on top a stack without minding. 

 "Better than anywhere else, my good Sir," you replied, a trace of a laugh hinting to escape. "Nowhere I can trust The Porta Persa Edition to anyone other than in your expert hands." 

 He chuckled, his belly rumbling; just as anyone named 'Jupiter' should be. "Then I'm honered lass! As I'm honored to be Alex Fireflower's avid reader!" 

 "Oh stop flattering me," you chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Ah, it seems quite late now, isn't it? I better go." 

 Jupiter nodded. "Aye lass, you're movin' to the Academy tomorrow, innit? Ya should hurry home now before anyone catches ya!" 

 "Aye, captain!" You replied in a singsong voice, quickly moving to the exit. "Oh and please tell Soonyoung, if he comes over later in the morning that I need help with the bags! Thanks, Jupiter! May Jove kiss you on the asscheeks!"

 Kissing his cheek goodbye, you bounced down the stairs as you heard him bark in laughter and raced back to the home you have been staying since you were a child. Even as a daughter of the city alchemist, you lived humbly with your father in a two-story house with a style akin to stale bread. Yet he was usually absent, either in the homes of the sick or in some faraway place hunting ingredients for his potions. It didn't matter to you anyway. 

 Snuck behind the back door, you eventually reached your room and lit a gaslamp on your otherwise messy desk full of paper and books. It never gets cleaned up in some way or another, you thought.

 Sitting on your bed, you watched the glittering lights of Porta Persa at midnight, wondering if Alex Fireflower's words in that widely popular newspaper would lit a fire in people's hearts. Despite your young age, being a writer in a prolific paper was anxiety inducing, knowing how much words could stir up a person's sentiments.

 From afar, you could hear a faint melody of a love song between lovers, soulmates. A concept you disdainfully look down upon, if your writings were any indication to that. The bonding ceremony never sat well with you. You never understood those who excitedly and eagerly surrender their life to the whims of coincidence and then live to become happy. It was either a pretense or an 'anyone will do' type of situation. 

"Oh, isn't the ceremony later in the morning?" You remarked, peaking at the calendar on your desk. You shrugged. 

In any case, you have been prepared to deny this unwelcome intruder. It took a while to research but there were ways to suppress the connection between soulmates, mostly elaborate spellwork and potions. Yet you have been ready for years, almost a decade: casting spell upon spell on yourself and drinking disgusting potions, truly glad that you had an alchemist for a father. Now nothing will stand in the way between you and your aspirations. 

Getting a bit sleepy, you snuck in your sleeping gown and laid on the bed. Closing your eyes, and for once, leaving the rest for the Universe's turn in this game of chance. 

The next thing you came to was a dull throb on your head, something akin to a mediocre hangover, and a loud rapping on your front door. It was late in the morning. The birds were chirping, the loud clattering of bustling human activity and Soonyoung’s rather energetic shouting on your front door was grating on your ears. 

You tried to think of any reason why you were particularly not feeling a hundred percent today yet was once again interrupted by Soonyoung calling you out. 

Rolling off your bed however, made everything come crashing down on you. You lurched on the floor, thinking about throwing up yet none came, only your empty coughs and an uncomfortable pressure on your diaphragm were there. Your limbs were weak and trembled as you tried to lift your leg up, inevitably stumbling back to the floor and hitting your back against the bedpost in a painful thud. 

What is this…? 

In your pain, you grit your teeth, unable to utter anything with your dry throat. You tried to massage your temples to alleviate the throbbing, yet that was the exact moment you realized what was actually happening. With eyes as wide as saucers and a heart rate that seemed to increase in great increments, a cold sweat ran down your spine as you saw what was on your wrist. A cynical grin on your lips, you scoffed at the chances.  

 “...dammit,” you squeezed out, glancing at the bracelet-like tattoo around your wrist, in its clear straight horizontal bars and iridescent shine whenever you turned it around. You almost laughed at how ridiculous things were. Your greatest nightmare has happened while you were asleep. A bond has been formed. 

Finally having some sort of clarity, you were suddenly feeling much better, knowing what to do next. Dragging out a chest underneath your bed, you fished out a concoction which would weaken the suppressants you had induced upon yourself over the years. 

This was the side effect, you considered as you took the potion in one swallow. The suppressants would make you feel terribly ill, more so because this was day zero of the bond, but it will effectively block out the connection. On the other hand, you can weaken the blockage, yet it would as well restore the connection between you and your soulmate.

You cringed at the thought, yet there was no other choice. Today was moving day and you knew, without a doubt, that left alone for any longer, Soonyoung would break into your house, worrying something had happened to you. Something  did happen, yet it was none of his concern.  

And speaking of the devil, there he was rushing into your room; panting and sweaty from probably climbing the terrace and into one open window, as you hid your trunk of potions back under the bed. 

“Y/N! “ he  shouted, barging inside and spotted you dusting your lap as you stood up. “You weren’t answering the door, so I--“

“I’m fine,“ you interrupted, sensing energy forming at the base of your stomach as it wells up and stretches into a thin string. Hopefully, the amount of potion you drank was not too strong enough to lower your walls.

You shook your head. “Anyway, can you help me with my stuff? They’re already down the hallway, so we only have to carry them to the terminal.” 

“Oh, sure, sure. But seriously, are you alright?” Soonyoung asked, noting you were more closed off than usual. You only turned your back at him and walked towards your closet. 

“I’m fine, Soonyoung. Don’t worry,” you dismissed him. “Now, could you please allow me to dress myself up?” 

He was quiet for a while but eventually nodded, and left you in your ministrations. Sighing as he closed the door and disappeared, you struggled to keep yourself up. Just by lowering the suppressants, a tidal wave of thoughts barraged inside your head, immediately overwhelming you. They were obviously not yours and now you wondered if this was your connection, and if your soulmate was also thinking what you were thinking at that moment. Before you could arrive at an answer though, the thoughts once again stopped and your mind calmed down. 

You breathed in and out. There was no way you could truly understand what was happening. You can only form conjectures and draw theories yet none of them were absolutely irrefutable. You couldn’t understand why it suddenly stopped, but  nevertheless it was a welcome development. You can finally finish your chores without disturbance.  

As soon as you were done, you went downstairs to look for Soonyoung who seemed to have been waiting at the drawing room. He had already hailed a carriage to carry your belongings to the terminal, so you guessed it was only you they were waiting for.  

“I hope no one has called the police when you climbed through the terrace again,” you greeted him with a smile, your personal trunk on your hands.

“Nah, they know it’s just me,” he replied, grinning back as he took your trunk. 

Soonyoung was a childhood friend, the heir of a fine and lucrative shipping company among many in Porta Persa. He has a natural talent in mischief and a bundle of energy, yet surprisingly hard working. Together with you and Wonwoo, who was another friend, Soonyoung was currently preoccupied with The Porta Persa Edition as one of its editors. 

"We'll be seeing more of each other from now on!" He remarked excitedly, helping you up the carriage before joining in as well. "If you know what I mean." 

You sighed at his rather indiscreet methods of discretely conveying that you three were running a rather controversial newspaper. 

"How was today's paper though?" You asked as the carriage began moving and jumping around the cobblestones. 

Soonyoung grinned victoriously. "Folks were deliciously eating it by the news stands and Wonwoo said the Parliament and the Royal Elders were absolutely livid with Alex Fireflower's piece!" 

You feel a sweatdrop roll down your cheek. 

"It's kind of scary with the way you say that," you replied, and then continued with a more confident tone, "but I'm glad they got the message. People need to wake up from this farce." 

"You seriously hate the soulmate thing, huh?" Soonyoung commented. "I mean, I can't really say anything since I don't have my bond yet." 

You glanced at him, thinking of your own bond and instinctively hid your wrist underneath your gloves. 

"Lucky for you."

By the time you both arrived at the terminal, it was all a breeze from there. The teleportation portals were not as busy compared to other days, thus with just a cart and Soonyoung by your side, you have officially moved to the Royal Academy of Porta Persa. 

The Royal Academy of Porta Persa, or just the Academy, was a state-ran university, yet the most prominent among other universities in the area. Atop a hill overlooking the main port, it was constantly covered by wisteria and cherry blossom trees all year long thanks to magic, painting a surreal landscape for all of Porta Persa to see. 

"Even if I've seen this from my window every night, this is still quite a sight to take in," you exclaimed as you both walked towards the dormitories. 

Soonyoung gave a small smile. "I was like that last year, you know."

Due to the prestige of the Academy and its quality of education, only a select few can attend its venerable halls of learning: the elite and the intellectually gifted. You were lucky to be part of the latter group. The entrance examinations were intense yet you still made it, happy that you were finally able to attend their Effective Journalism class which was the reason why you wanted to go in the first place. 

"I'm sure your dorm master will tell you later, but I'm going to say it anyway," Soonyoung started as he pushed your cart up a slope. "In the dorm rooms, the ladies and the gents are separated."

He made it seem so controversial that you made a deadpan look by the time he finished talking.  

"I think that should be obvious by now." 

 "Eh? But aren't you disappointed? We can't brainstorm article ideas together with Wonwoo, you know!" 

 "But we can just talk in the courtyard." You shrugged, not really getting Soonyoung. 

 "We can't just talk in the courtyard! People will know we're The Porta Persa Edition!"

You stopped walking. "Soonyoung, the newspaper is registered in your name. I think, except my identity as Alex Fireflower, this is no longer any secret." 

He gave an exasperated sigh. "You're such a killjoy!"

"Oh, look. We're here," you pointed out, totally ignoring Soonyoung's comment. 

The girl's dormitory looked especially lavish with marble and ornate columns. Lilac wisteria trees dotted the surroundings, creating a flowery curtain around the dormitory. On the entrance way though was a female guard and the dorm master.

"I think I can manage from this point on," you said, taking the cart from your friend's grasps, "Thanks for your help though! I'll contact you later!"

"Oh if you say so then! Hope your roommate's nice though!" he replied, taking a step back and giving a small salute. "I'll wait for you and Wonwoo in the dorms! See you!" 

You gave a cheeky smirk and saluted him back before pushing your way inside the dorm. As you entered, the dorm master welcomed you with a polite smile in her dark floor length dress and clipboard in her hands. She was an older woman yet lacked the frightening aura dorm masters seemed to have. 

"Good morning! You are Ms. Y/N, I assume?" She asked and you nodded, showing your identification pin as proof. 

"Well unfortunately, we don't have any room in the main building, which is why we have decided that incoming students have to stay at the refurbished building." She started as she began walking you across the courtyard. "There were a lot of students last year, we really had no choice."

"I see. Well, I'm ok with anywhere, to be honest. As long as I have a bed and a desk to write on," you replied, gazing at the fancy architecture prominent among all the buildings. 

She chuckled. "Don't worry. The rooms are considerably bigger in the renovated building with a private bathroom and a small kitchen, though you have to share it with another person."

"That's quite fancy, huh? Looks like I still have my luck today," you replied with a chuckle, pushing your cart forwards. 

Shortly, the building you were to stay for the rest of your years in the university pulled into view. It was indeed massive and frighteningly grand, and seemed like only the rich can afford such residence, which definitely worried you. It would be quite difficult if you got paired with a snobby and spoiled princess of some far away land. 

Entering the building, you noticed that the hallways were no different with its golden inlays and dark marbled floors. Ceiling to floor windows graced on your left as the dorm master led you to the third floor (via an elevator) and to a wide ornate door. 

"I think it's this room." Fishing a set of keys from her pocket, she opened the door and led you inside.

To no surprise, it was an extravagant room. In your front was a sofa set by a fireplace which serves a sitting room for guests. The common room proper was separated by french doors and a wall of glass which looked like sets of windows.

You slowly took it in, unused to this kind of place. Taking a step forward, you looked around: there were fresh roses on the side table, bookcases filled with heavy tomes and encyclopedias, a scent of nearby cherry blossom flowers from an open window. 

This was definitely not what you had expected. This large room fit for royals was not what you had in mind when you imagined yourself living in the dorm rooms of the Academy. And it frightened you. 

"Do...do I have to pay for this?" You asked the dorm master who was waiting for you at the doorway. 

She smiled. "No need to worry, Ms. Y/N. All of your expenses here are paid by the state."

"Is it really alright for me to be here…" 

Your words faltered, thinking about how lucky and privileged you were to be living in this kind of place in the next few years, while there were others who stayed in a much humble dorm room. 

"Is it not to your liking?" The dorm master asked which you immediately denied. 

"No, no. This is good," you said. Too good even.

Your thoughts you flushed out before it could convince you to just stay at your family home. That would definitely not be ideal at all. Tentatively opening the french doors leading to the common room, what you saw was definitely not what you expected. 

Fresh from an immersive bath was a man, not much older than Soonyoung, in his half naked glory. 

"Who on earth are you?" He asked and you froze. 

Frozen because all you wanted to do was to wake up from this horrible nightmare of a day, or you wanted to evaporate there at your very spot from sheer embarrassment. 

Without a word, you immediately closed the door and ran back to the door where the dorm master was looking at you in confusion. 

"This…! This room is clearly occupied! By a man!" You nearly screamed at her, yet still held a bit of your composure. 

You could still see the afterimage of the man in your mind, his dark black hair wet, his toned body only covered by a mere towel. You furiously tried to erase it out of your eye sockets before you sink into the gutter.

"Huh? But the records say this room is occupied by Iris Appleby," she replied in panic, checking her clipboard over and over again. 

In the midst of her checking, the man emerged from the bedroom, now much more appropriate in trousers and a button up. He seemed to be a bit annoyed from the disturbance, you noticed. 

"I assume there must be some problem here," he said coolly, hands in his pockets. 

If anything, you thought the dorm master had seen a ghost from how pale she got just from taking a glimpse of the man. 

"Sir Lee Jihoon! I must apologize for this inconvenience!" She exclaimed tearfully. Her panic had doubled and was now frantically checking the records.

You blinked several times upon hearing the name, and then finally, it clicked a second after. 

The youngest parliament member, huh? 

"I'm sure there was some mistake! We thought this room was occupied by someone else, Sir! And it's the only available room we have!" The dorm master cried, and you grimaced. 

"Alright, madam. Please take a deep breath," you told her, patting her back. "We could check if there are other rooms left, okay?" 

"I already did through the clipboard! We have the dorm rooms monitored by magic tracing, yet in some way, only this room was registered with a wrong name," she replied as her shoulders sagged. 

"I don't mind her as a roommate," the third person involved finally spoke. "The rooms are separated and we only have to share the bath, the kitchen and the common room anyway." 

The dorm master seemed hopeful for that solution as she gave you a questioning look. Lee Jihoon also glanced at you, his sharp eyes seemingly judging. 

It's either here or back at home, huh? There was no way you're going back. 

"As I said earlier, madam, I can sleep anywhere as long as I have a bed and a desk," you replied with a reassuring smile and then gazed at Jihoon. "It's not really as bad as it looks." 

Ecstatic with your answer, the dorm master shouted her massive amount of gratitude and bowed farewell after giving you your keys.

Turning around, you faced Lee Jihoon who had his arms crossed, and an unimpressed look on his face. 

"I'm Y/N! First year History of Magic major! Nice to meet you, my roommate," you cheerfully introduced yourself yet was met with only sheer silence. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"This is the point where you also introduce yourself while shaking my hand and we then go on with the particulars of our own lives, never to interact again except when sharing the kitchen and the bath," you continued, clearly irked. 

He raised his brows at you in amusement. Taking your hand, he shook yours firmly. 

"Lee Jihoon, Magical Law, 2nd year. A pleasure as well," he replied, and then gave the most sarcastic smile you've ever seen, if you've ever seen one, before dropping your hand.

"Let's actively avoid each other from now on," he replied with his back turned. Walking away, Jihoon waved at you and then went towards his own room. 

Alone, the silence was empty. Yet you simply shrugged at the whole event. Having a politician as a roommate was way better than a princess.

Dragging your cart of belongings inside, you went to what you assumed was your room, opposite to Jihoon's. You noticed that the common room consisted of another ornate fireplace, a large gilded table and a high tech kitchen fueled by fire-charged stones. There were also a few pieces of expensive decor which would really suck if you managed to break one. 

The common room was fancy, and your room was, of course, no different. It was a bit bare yet it was already filled with furniture. The canopy bed was at the center; a tall curtained window behind it, as well as a set of chairs just in front of a fireplace. A desk and a few bookshelves was at the far right, near the door. Your closet was a walk-in type, you observed, yet immediately grimaced, knowing you never had that much clothes in the first place. 

Huffing, you sat on a lounge chair at the end of the bed. (It wasn't dusty, thank god.) Yet today was by far the most exhausting day you had. 

Removing the glove on your right hand, you checked if the soulmate marking was really there or just an early morning nightmare of yours. It was still there though, glistening against the midday sunlight from the window. 

It looked innocent that way, just black horizontal bars. Yet its meaning was something you wished did not exist at all.

--!!

All of the sudden, you felt a sharp pang on your head, followed by a sound of static on your ears and a barrage of muddled thoughts in your head. You grabbed a fistful of your hair to at least calm it down a bit yet it was for naught.

A bad migraine, you convince yourself. It was definitely not.

Struggling at the lounge chair for several minutes left you panting and nauseous. There was no solution to this as this was of course the result of you tampering with the connection. You felt like banging your head on the wall because of the pain and because of your own sheer stubbornness, yet that wouldn't really solve anything, will it?

Before you could even contemplate asking your roommate for help, the pain and the overwhelming confusion disappeared and left you in a state of clarity. 

Exhausted, you closed your eyes and sighed.

"I never knew you detest me so much, my dear soulmate." 

Those were definitely not your thoughts.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 | CHAP 6 | * A/N: HII! This is Hyeri!! (I deleted my first post ;;w;;) It’s been a long time! Here’s a JIhoon fic to start things up! This, I guess my goal for this is to deconstruct the soulmate au??? Srsly, I’ve been watching a lot of anime reviews...

[zmediaoutlet]

omg your tags, now I can't stop picturing Sam waking Dean up with his mouth, what have you done (!!)

It’s cold—really goddamn cold. First things Sam notices whenhe wakes up, in order: how fucking incredibly cold it is; that he’s lost theblanket, sometime during the night; he’s got a morning woody crushed in againstthe mattress and it feels, ah, good; Dean’s gone.

He opens his eyes. Dean. His brain struggles to come online,fifteen rail lines speeding forward at once. In the muddle he claps himself inthe face too hard, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes—ow—and struggles toturn over, the mattress creaking under him. Dean, where—oh. There. A lump, onthe far side of the bed, a king bed, oh—right, they got a king bed, somewherein Texas—Lubbock—and Dean had grinned defiance at the hairsprayed old lady atthe front desk, and slapped Sam’s ass before they left the lobby—mortifying,but Sam had secretly enjoyed how lemon-bite-pursed her wrinkly old mouth got—andoh, damn, it is really cold, jesus. Winter in Texas shouldn’t be this cold, andhe puts together only slowly, trains struggling to leave the station, that theheater under the window must be broken, and fucking Dean stole all the covers,and Sam’s left here in his boxers with his skin goosepimpling in the frigidair, and he rubs his face again, wanting coffee, Miami, a massage. That order.How likely is he to get any of it.

He gets up and pees instead, the tiny bathroom equally coldand the seat freezing his ass when he sits down. He pushes his hard-on down,angles so he won’t piss all over the floor. Splash of water on his face, after,and a gulp of cold water from the tap, and he’s more awake, but colder, and hecrosses the thin carpet and climbs onto the bed and tugs at the blanket,unrolling Dean from his burrito. “Ngh,” Dean says, somewhere under there, butSam doesn’t give a shit. It’s cold, and the whole point of a king is to shareand they didn’t even screw last night, and Sam’s going to—get—ah, there, and hefolds himself under the unfurled sheet and beige fuzzy-fleece and crappypolyester duvet and, more importantly, a body’s worth of warm, giving skin, andDean shivers when Sam spoons up behind him but he can just deal, Sam’s the onewith the icicle toes, here.

God, it’s comfortable. He drags his chin against Dean’sshoulder, stubble scraping, smells him. Warm, unwashed body, and salt, and adistant waft of cologne there at the back of his neck. Sam touches his belly,soft, and drifts for a moment. The blanket makes everything better. Still. He’sawake, kinda. Probably won’t sleep again—that’s not how his body works anymore—andhe really ought to start the day. Find their next hunt. Get moving.

His dick’s shoved against Dean’s thigh, swelling, content.He shifts his hips, an easy press. Mm. He licks his lips, brushes his noseagainst the back of Dean’s head. There’s that, too. He slides his hand toDean’s hip, squeezes, and Dean doesn’t move, snoozing on. Sam flexes his ass,pressing forward—yeah. Okay. Maybe the day doesn’t have to start right away.The hunt’ll still be there, if he finds it an hour from now.

He dips beneath the blanket. Too cold to do anything else.Warm, warm, and he presses kisses along the pretty familiar curve of Dean’sback, his hip. Sleeping naked, the degenerate, and Sam runs his teeth along theswell of his ass, his nose brushing soft skin. A cave, down here. Smells—god,Dean, just like Dean, and he pushes at his hip and he tips, turns, sleepymurmur barely audible through the muffling blankets. Sam grips his ass in bothhands, squeezes. Mm. He’s got a completely inexplicable spatter of freckles here,and Sam can’t see them in the murky dim under the covers but he knows exactlywhere they are, and he kisses a patch of skin—salt, his tongue finding itunerring. Smooth, and Dean’s thighs mostly smooth too when Sam runs restlesshands down them, and then up, his thumbs dragging up the soft insides. He huffsout a breath, kneels up. The blankets come with him, light peeking through upnear Dean’s shoulders, but he’s not awake, at least as far as Sam can tell. It’smaking his balls throb, his dick heavy and aching. Fun to play with Dean—didn’tknow how much more fun it’d be, when he was dead to the world, and Sam’s brainwrites in yard-high letters across the inside of his eyes he’s asleep,and fuck, why is that so hot.

He reaches down and holds his dick through the muffle of hisboxers, scooches down further, on his knees at the foot of the bed. Dean’s legslazily open, and Sam slides up, kisses his asscheek, urges one thigh open—higher—anda sigh, somewhere, but then there’s the gold, his balls plump and plush againstthe mattress, his ass open. Sam’s mouth waters. He keeps one hand under Dean’sknee, keeping him open, and leans in—ah, and talk about smell, jesus, thebody-warm here, and salt and funk, and he kisses at the top of thecrack, and licks there too, the knob of bone hard under his tongue. Barely-hairyhere, too, Sam’s brother, delicate as always—just the finest layer of goldenfuzz that goes velvety so fast under Sam’s tongue, and he crouches and nuzzlesin and licks lower, lower, skin-taste thick in his jaws, saliva pumping up.Fuck—and then there, home, and finally—real hair, crinkly and matting down fast,and the rough patch of his asshole, and the sourness of Sam’s morning breath matchinga long night of sleep, and Dean’s thigh twitches then, and there’s a mumble,somewhere up above the blankets where it doesn’t matter. Sam licks again, flatand sloppy, spit flooding. Jesus, it’s good, nasty and sleepy-warm, and withhis free hand he pries Dean’s asscheek aside and then just really goes to work,licking deep and steady, mouth open, breathing trapped in all this—the wrinkleof it under his tongue, and the plush give. “What,” he hears, somewhere, and hehumps his hips into the bed and drags his thumb over Dean’s balls, spitssloppy, wet running down his taint to where Sam’s petting him, and he pushes upand gets his thumb—in—inside, fucking in where it’s so tight, that familiar ground,and Dean moans and his legs spread wide and he’s awake, yeah, fuck, he’s awakeand Sam fucks his thumb in and out, licking there and making it wet enough tomake it good, sloppy, and then Dean farts on his face.

Ripe—jesus—Sam coughs, says, “What the fuck,” shoving up onone hand, and Dean’s—laughing, the asshole, the absolute—“are you kidding,”Sam says, god, the taste is in the back of his throat, what the—

Dean’s shoulders are shaking as he clutches the pillow, his faceburied down. “Holy shit,” he gets out, shaky, “but dude, you’re the one—”

“You fucker,” Sam says, rearing back, the blankets fallingdown around his hips. Dean’s still laughing, one hand clapped over the top ofhis own head, and—even as Sam licks the back of his own wrist to get the tasteout—there’s Dean’s crack, wet, and his thighs still spread wide, and Sam’s dickisn’t—soft, at all, by any means.

Dean turns his head over his shoulder, grinning. His eyes areall bleary. “That’s what you get,” he says, and yawns, and Sam looks at himwith the corner of his mouth crusted with drool and his back freckled andsmooth and his asshole soft, and he shrugs, and spits into his hand, and wetshis dick where it’s popping out of the front of his boxers, and leans in andpresses—ah, there. There. Dean blinks, surprised, mouth gone into an o, and Samsays, “Okay?” Soft, and asking, but not really asking, because Dean nods—of courseDean nods—and Sam lets his weight drop in and Dean opens around him, reluctant,the drag not really smooth at all on just spit but ah, fuckin a, good and tightand just, just what Sam needed. Screw a massage.

He bottoms out, pubes crushed in against Dean’s wet ass.Dean pulls his thigh higher, lifts his hips. “Goddamn, early bird,” he says,thin, and Sam leans forward over his shoulder and kisses him. Sticky, his lipschapped, both of them sour-mouthed. He tilts his pelvis, feels Dean’s assholeripple. Grips his hip, slides up to his ribs. When their mouths part Dean lickshis lips, blinks at him. “You just kissed me with fart-mouth,” he says.

“And whose fault is that,” Sam says. Dean raises hiseyebrows, and Sam watches his face change when he pulls his hips back, andsinks back in again. God. Talk about warm. “Good?”

“Not saying,” Dean says, like that’s not an answer. Hiseyelids flutter, and he gathers the pillow under his head. “Mm. ‘s cold. Pull upthe blankets, bitch.”

Sam reaches down, does. “Yeah, maybe if you hadn’t hogged ‘em,”he says, and fucks in again, lazy, slow. He pulls the covers up to his own shoulders,and leans back and spits between them, where the root of his dick’s breaking Deanopen. He slides his thumb around, wetting the slide as he pulls out, back in.Dean’s ears are bright red in the dawnlight. “This is all on you, you know.”

“Yeah?” Dean says, and slips a hand back under the cover ofthe blankets to haul Sam’s hip in tighter. Fuck, fuck. Sam braces his knees outsideof Dean’s, arches his back. If he could get deeper—but Dean seems to think it’senough, by the whole-body shiver. Jesus. This body. Home, if Sam ever needed one.Dean licks his bottom lip, slants a look back at Sam. “Tell me later, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, grinning down at him, and braces a handagainst the headboard. Later.

[vexy-sins]

Kinktober 2018: BONUS #3 (Day Thirty-One Continuation)

Pairing: Dream x Nightmare (Dreamcest)

Featured Kinks: Breeding, Cunnilingus

Additional Notes: Fontcest/Dreamcest, noncon mention, character development, redemption, requested continuation of day thirty-one

Read Day Thirty-One: On Tumblr | On AO3

----------

Nightmare, as he so often seemed to do nowadays, stared at his brother, Dream, while he slept, contemplating thoughts that troubled his mind with moral dilemmas, something he hadn’t had a problem with since he’d eaten all of the apples from the tree that he and his brother once guarded so long ago. Insidious ideas swirled and frothed like waves of doubt crashing against the shores of his skull, and like any being who dared to challenge Nature, he found himself helpless to stop them.

Tonight he wondered about Dream’s… feelings. Sure, his golden brother moaned and screamed his name, begging for more every time they fucked- which was often- but for the very first time since Nightmare sought to breed him, he actually considered whether Dream truly enjoyed their couplings. Nightmare  knew the sessions were pleasurable for him. Just the thought of stuffing his brother’s cunt and asshole with tentacles stirred his magic with gleeful anticipation.

In fact, just a few hours earlier, Dream had hung, suspended by his wrists from two of the dripping tentacles while Nightmare’s many other appendages pounded him raw, filling his holes beyond their limit and making Dream’s stomach bulge. Nightmare never obstructed Dream’s beautiful mouth though; the harder and rougher he fucked his brother, the more delicious melodies of delirious praise and desperate desire poured from Dream’s throat.

When Nightmare came, he’d had to keep a thick, oozing tentacle inside of his brother’s constricting pussy to keep it from gaping too widely and spilling out his precious seed. Dream had fallen unconscious into his arms shortly afterwards, and Nightmare had cleaned him up and settled him into their shared bed with his overstimulated pussy walls still squeezing away at the sensitive tentacle, milking as much cum from Nightmare as he could produce. Now, Dream slept peacefully beside his brother, who laid awake with his tempestuous thoughts.

Peeking under the blankets, Nightmare watched in awe as the deep purple of his cum swirled within the translucent gold of Dream’s ecto-body, mingling with his brother’s magic and slowly being absorbed. Dream shifted slightly in his sleep, and Nightmare replaced the blanket quickly, not wanting to disturb the other skeleton’s rest, something he never would’ve considered before, much less allowed to occupy the forefront of his mind.

Without the vivid memories of breeding his brother distracting him, Nightmare’s thoughts returned to the subject at hand. Did Dream truly enjoy the sex, or was he simply giving in to what made his brother happy? Did Dream only ask for this in order to reestablish any semblance of the relationship that once existed between them, no matter how one-sided or tainted it may be? Did he even want Nightmare?

The questions burned in his mind. Why did it suddenly matter so much? Nightmare had hunted Dream across the Multiverse to destroy him. He’d laid waste to countless lives without so much as a second thought. He never cared who he hurt, who he killed, and least of all who he left behind to pick up the pieces. He embodied all of the evil and negativity of the Multiverse, and he cared about nothing!

Until now.

About Dream.

Nightmare realized that mending his relationship with his brother involved both of them, not just himself and his wishes. His satisfaction no longer eclipsed everything else. Dream mattered too. Dream’s emotions mattered, and allowing those things to take up space inside his skull left less and less room for his narcissism and more and more room for doors to slowly come open, revealing truths long buried, clawing their way to the surface. 

If he allowed himself to care about Dream, it meant allowing the possibility for good within himself, the possibility to reclaim what he’d lost. It also meant facing the consequences of his actions and taking a good look at who he had become, and that frightened him like nothing else. He shivered, caught on the precipice of change, too afraid to step back and not yet courageous enough to move forward.

Dream rolled over in his sleep, wiggling closer to Nightmare, both seeking the security of physical touch and offering it. Nightmare rather enjoyed it when Dream cuddled up to him, watching a slightly furrowed brow and a moue of dissatisfaction melt away into a relaxed expression. However pressing the questions were, they could wait for a more opportune time. Pulling Dream tightly against his body, Nightmare finally succumbed to sleep, a sleep blissfully devoid of his namesake.

The ooze of negativity that coated Nightmare’s entire body dripped thicker than usual the next morning as he wandered through his castle. Before he brought his brother here, Nightmare used this castle for plotting and recruiting minions to hunt for his brother. Now the halls stood empty and silent except for the drafts that somehow managed to find their way in despite the thick stone walls and sparse windows. Flames danced in the wall sconces, their eerie light teasing shadows in the corners. Nightmare couldn’t help comparing the orange tones of firelight to the bright gold that his brother radiated. He’d never thought of his castle as poorly lit before, but now he felt as if he walked through a never-ending shroud.

His meandering soon led him to the courtyard. Only scarred, barren ground hinted at the existence of the tree that once stood in the center, a haunted memory now for those who survived to remember it. Nothing dared to grow here under Nightmare’s wicked gaze, yet now he craved a hint of green or the delicate scent of flowers. Plants did not do well when nourished on dark emotions, but maybe Dream’s presence could at least coax a decent carpet of grass to take up residence. It would be... nice to sit outside, warmed by the sun, especially for Dream who must surely hate the gloomy stone corridors of Nightmare’s home, the home they now shared.

Nightmare sighed heavily. He brought Dream here to mend their broken relationship, start a family, be as close as they once were, but the more he saw his surroundings for what they truly were- the lair of a monster steeped in negativity- the more he felt that he may have wronged his brother again. This time, guilt stung him sharply. Shame gnawed away at the darkness inside of him, an emotional stranger making a sudden and very unwelcome appearance at the doorstep of his psyche, unwilling to be ignored, unable to be faced. He needed to escape it.

As he turned to seek out his brother and bury his tentacles and his emotions in a tight, wet pussy, Nightmare noticed a trail of black sludge footprints showing clearly where he’d recently walked. Strange. He would have to find someone to clean that up… later. For now, he had more important business to attend to.

Nightmare found his brother gazing out of a tower window at the desolate landscape that characterized his kingdom. The castle had not always perched upon such a dreary roost; once, the land surrounding the great stone structure burst with lush greenery and vivacious inhabitants. Nothing survives long with only negativity to nurture it though. Not life, not land, and certainly not relationships.

Nightmare pushed the thoughts aside. Watching his brother from the threshold of the tower room, desire uncurled inside of him, mirrored by the tentacles springing from his back, dripping thick black globs of negative emotion onto the floor. This desire burned hotter than normal, a desire not for his own pleasurable release but to see his brother writhing and moaning as he came undone, drunk on the heady pleasure that Nightmare promised with a curt but breathy command.

“Bend over,” rasped Nightmare, already pressing himself against Dream and clawing at his clothing. Dream obeyed, leaning over the windowsill and tilting his hips to give Nightmare access to every part of his body. Nightmare’s new resolve weakened but held. He could control himself… for his brother’s sake.

Dream braced himself, expecting immediate, rough penetration. That was Nightmare’s style after all. This time, Nightmare decided to try something different. The oozing skeleton’s eyelights fixed on Dream’s magic, pooled so delicately in his pelvis. Had he ever really stopped to appreciate it before? Of course not. He had only thought about what he could get out of it. Selfish. Foolish.

Easily remedied.

Nightmare rested his hands on either side of Dream’s round ass, gently kneading the soft golden ecto-flesh beneath his phalanges. Using his thumbs, he spread the asscheeks apart to reveal the glorious treasure between them. Dream’s asshole spasmed in anticipation of his brother’s tentacles, but Nightmare just ran the very end of his sharp thumb phalange around the rim, not entering, not yet.

Lowering his hands, Nightmare used his thumbs to part the plump pussy lips that hid Dream’s tight little fuckhole. The inner folds were glistening and silky with arousal, and as Nightmare delved between them to tease at his brother’s quivering opening, the sticky juices dribbled down to stain Dream’s femurs. The delectable scent of his brother’s excitement stirred Nightmare’s magic again. He needed a taste of that sweet, intoxicating nectar, a taste right from the source.

Nightmare knelt on the hard stone floor, bringing his face in close.

“Brother, what are you-” Dream never got a chance to finish his question because Nightmare spread his pussy wide open and dipped his tongue inside, swirling and curling it to reach every sensitive spot. Dream’s eyelights rolled back when Nightmare splayed his tongue across his pussy entrance and sucked, drinking in the arousal that now flowed as freely as his moans.

Dream’s usual screams and pleas fell drastically short of the siren-like allure of these new sounds that poured from him. Every whimper and low moan spurred Nightmare to even greater efforts until Dream clutched the windowsill like he might not be able to remain standing without it, and with the way his legs trembled, it was a definite possibility.

“Fuck… oh, fuck…” gasped Nightmare, tongue buried in his brother. He couldn’t wait any longer. He stood up and stepped back in one fluid motion, licking Dream’s tangy juices from his mouth with a greedy tongue.

Nightmare spun Dream around to face him, pushing his brother up against the wall and lifting his legs to settle him onto his pelvis. “Be as loud as you want, brother. I want the whole world to know you’re mine and to hear what I’m doing to you,” Nightmare growled against Dream’s cheek, releasing the smooth purple magic of his erection from his pants and rubbing it between Dream’s pussy lips. His cock slipped in with surprising ease, and it felt absolutely incredible to sink into that tight, wet heat at his brother’s core.

As per his brother’s request, Dream didn’t hold back. Instead of his typical screaming and shrill begging, he gasped, moaned, mewled, and sang Nightmare’s praises to a kingdom laid waste below them. If there had been anyone left to hear them, the lewd noises may have quickened their steps on the journey home for a steamy tryst of their own.

With one hand pressed to the wall to cushion the impact of their movements and prevent the stones from bruising his brother and the other digging into his brother’s ass cheek, Nightmare huffed and panted, thrusting with wild abandon, losing himself to the passion. Dream’s pale bone hands scrabbled at the sludge that coated Nightmare’s clothing and bones, finally gaining purchase on his ribcage through the thin fabric of his shirt. Holding on tightly, Dream rocked his hips into every thrust, and it drove Nightmare wild.

Unable to contain himself, his entire being demanding more, more, more, Nightmare leaned forward and found Dream’s mouth. With a whisper-soft cry, Dream opened his mouth, and Nightmare kissed him, hungry and demanding. Dream’s arms and legs locked around his brother as Nightmare swallowed his moans, moving their mouths as if they could never get enough of each other. Their tongues met, touching tentatively at first, then stroking each other in tandem with the movements of their hips.

“S-so close,” hissed Nightmare, breaking the kiss to gulp air. His body shook with the impending orgasm. Nothing had ever felt this good in his entire life.

Dream could only gasp a single syllable, a name that his brother hadn’t heard since he’d become bitter and jaded so long ago and changed his name into the bristling armor that it was today. “Night.” Just Night, not Nightmare. The moniker sent him careening over the edge into glorious euphoria.

Nightmare laid awake in bed with a drowsy Dream laying across his chest. More mess than usual had been left in the tower room, excessive amounts of black sludge residue in addition to the mingled sex magic from himself and his brother. That would be a worry for another time. Now he wanted to address the question that prevented him from dozing off with Dream.

“Dream,” he murmured tentatively, unsure if his brother was even lucid enough to answer with the mixture of orgasm afterglow and sleepy contentedness. Dream made a sound of encouragement for Nightmare to continue.

“Do you… enjoy it… when we have sex?” Nightmare actually struggled to get the words out. He felt Dream tense up in his arms, then immediately relax.

“Today was amazing,” Dream replied, nuzzling his face against his brother’s ribcage despite the layer of negativity that coated it.

A wry smile briefly crossed Nightmare’s face. Of course Dream had enjoyed the sex today. Amazing didn’t even begin to describe what they’d shared. “I meant before. Before today,” Nightmare amended.

Dream hesitated, and that hesitation cut like a knife. “I love being close to you again,” Dream hedged, neatly sidestepping the actual question. A mountain of unspoken words rose in the silence that followed. 

The nonanswer provided its own answer. He’d fucked up and hurt his brother under the guise of rebuilding their relationship, and they both knew it. Dream was just too kindhearted to say it outright. Nightmare didn’t sleep at all that night, mulling over his transgressions until the sun peeked over the horizon.

When Nightmare finally got out of bed, he noticed an alarming amount of negativity left behind on the sheets and pillows, though none of it dared to smudge Dream’s gleaming bones or nightclothes. The malignant monarch toyed with the idea that this continuous exposure to his brother’s eternal positivity could be depleting his life force, but if the price of restoring their once-close relationship was his very existence, well, it would not be unjustified. The concept of justification and accountability brought his mind back to more pressing matters that weighed heavily on his newfound conscience- his minions.

His minions had been forced into his service after he’d destroyed their homes, their families, their lives. Twisted by desperation and hopelessness, they believed that they had no choice but to toil forever under the slime-coated boots of their unforgiving and unfeeling tyrant without any future to look forward to except for servitude unto death. He’d stolen their choices from them… just like he had done to his brother. He had so much to make amends for, and the time to get started was long overdue.

Right and wrong are principles that only exist in the minds of those who seek out the former and wish to avoid the latter. Those who commit acts of evil rarely care in what light their actions are described. This realization gave Nightmare something to mull over, lurking in the shadows while Dream spoke with his former minions, encouraging them to rebuild their town and inundating them with hope for a brighter future. Dream truly shone in his position as savior, something Nightmare found himself admiring as his perception of the world slowly shifted for the better.

Change did not come easily, but it did come, and once it began, there was no stopping it. Nightmare laid awake many nights reliving mistakes that he hadn’t even considered to be mistakes at the time, but each day more light found its way into the castle and the once frigid drafts warmed into fresh summer breezes.

Under Dream’s positive influence, the overall ambiance in the castle continued to improve, but Nightmare himself seemed to be melting at an alarming rate as the days passed. He tried to hide the sludge piles from Dream. If Dream’s sunny personality was killing him, he didn’t want his brother to know it. Dream, for his part, didn’t comment on the messes, but his expression grew more concerned each time he saw how much of the dripping negativity Nightmare left in his wake.

Soon, pale fabric and paler bone peeked through the fine sheen of darkness, and Dream could no longer hold back his emotions. “Brother, you look terrible! What’s happening to you?” he asked, voice trembling.

“I always look terrible. Being the embodiment of negativity does that to a guy,” Nightmare attempted to joke. When Dream refused to take the bait, he tried lying. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” His answer was as unsatisfactory as his brother’s had been when he asked his own very serious question, and that towering mountain of avoided communication loomed between them once more.

Hurt and disappointed, Dream slept on his own side of the bed with his back to his brother, a silent protest that reverberated through the room with more intensity that any shouted words. A fitful sleep was Nightmare’s only escape, and he accepted it readily.

Dream shook his brother from slumber the next morning, babbling frantically. “Night! Night, your face! Look at your face!”

“Can’t look at my own face,” grumbled Nightmare tiredly, though Dream’s tone and his use of the cast aside name roused him from their bed. He stumbled across the floor to the bathroom mirror… and stared in wordless wonder at the face that stared back at him. 

Nightmare reached out tentatively with a shaking hand to touch the reflective surface that held the image of a face unmarred by the perpetual ooze of negativity- round cheekbones and an open, honest smile that he barely recognized, but the sight of his hand startled him even more. The bones were clean and white with no dark patina of corruption left to drip from them. He still felt the negativity pulsing inside of him, but it no longer consumed him, no longer defined him. He had been liberated.

Nightmare cast aside his clothing, still stained with remnants of the muck and his old bitter life and turned on the shower, inhaling the steam as the water heated before stepping in to make sure no traces of goop remained. Scrubbed clean, he emerged back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist to see Dream standing there, smiling and holding out… his old uniform.

The high collared silk shirt with its ornate buckles and the matching pants brought back memories of dappled sunlight, sitting under the tree with his brother while the apples swayed in the breeze that sent scattered cotton puff clouds chasing after their shadows far below. The entire ensemble was crisp and clean with not a wrinkle or a dust particle to be seen, clearly Dream’s handiwork.

“I found this tucked away in a trunk, and I thought you might want to wear it again one day. Now seems like a good time,” said Dream softly.

Nightmare took the clothes, rubbing the silk between his phalanges, Despite all the changes he’d made recently, he still clung to the mantle of Nightmare. Maybe it was time to place that personification into a chest to be tucked away and forgotten in some unused room within the castle. Maybe it was time to become simply Night again. He dressed himself, marveling at how well the clothing still fit him. A lifetime of changes had changed very little at all.

Dream moved behind him, and Nightmare felt a once familiar weight settle atop his head. His crown. He knew Dream didn’t find the crown in the castle; he’d discarded the unnecessary finery when he became Nightmare and hadn’t seen it since. Dream must have kept it for all these years. Now his brother returned it to its rightful place, completing the transformation of Nightmare back to Night.

“You’re quite handsome when you’re cleaned up,” giggled Dream, admiring his handiwork.

Night couldn’t force his mouth into a scowl with the compliment echoing around the room, but not even genuine praise managed to subdue his snark. “We were formed from the same energy source. We’re practically twins,” he pointed out.

“I know, silly,” Dream shot back, kissing Night’s pristine cheekbone. Silly. Nobody had addressed Night with such flippant endearments before. He liked it. Silly. Perhaps someday he would try it out, this being silly he stood so wrongly accused of. Dream didn’t point out the adorable purple blush creeping across Night’s cheekbones. He’d teased his brother enough for tonight… but tomorrow was a new day.

----------

“This is where our tree used to be?” Dream asked softly. Night nodded, carefully avoiding his brother’s eyelights. Dream touched the parched, cracked earth. “It’s so-”

“Desolate,” suggested Night emotionlessly, trying to force a judgement from his brother. Dream refused to play along.

“I was going to say full of potential.” Night blinked. Of course Dream would put a positive spin on a barren patch of dirt. “There’s so much life waiting just beneath the surface for a little encouragement and care to help it to grow. Even when things look bleak and hopeless, there’s always a possibility for something better.”

Dream’s words touched his brother deeply. They would restore life and beauty to the courtyard. They would bring growth to dormancy and breathe the breath of life into emptiness. The transformation in the garden would reflect the transformation in Night himself. Work progressed quickly once the decision was made.

Dream’s radiant positivity coaxed multitudes of bright green shoots from the soil, and they uncurled to face the sunshine as if awakening from a long slumber. Dream darted from one section of the garden to the next like a joyful bee enjoying the bounty of spring. Night watched him from an archway that connected the courtyard to the castle, wearing the shadows like he’d once worn his seeping negativity. He didn’t dare to enter the courtyard. Plants wilted beneath the heavy burden of negative emotion, and Night hated the idea of destroying what his brother had newly curated.

Time passed, and the garden expanded and flourished, filling the entire courtyard… except for one area that remained conspicuously empty. Nothing grew in the very center of the courtyard, the space that their tree once occupied. Night didn’t comment on it. If plants weren’t able to grow there at the site of so much heartache and upheaval, he didn’t want Dream to feel bad about it, and if it was a conscious decision on Dream’s part to leave that area as a monument to what had once been, Night had no complaints about that either. In fact, Night had very little to complain about lately.

During the day, Dream tended to the courtyard garden under Night’s watchful eyelights or proposed decor changes to the stark castle walls and floors. It surprised Night how much the warm tones that Dream chose managed to create such a welcoming atmosphere while still maintaining the somber formality of castle living. Dream frequently invited Night to join him on shopping excursions into the town, but Night preferred to stay away from the townspeople, reluctant to remind them of his tyranny.

Dream would not be denied. He coaxed and encouraged Night just like one of his small seedlings, finally convincing him to venture from the castle grounds down into the town where he hadn’t set foot since he’d utterly decimated it. At first the townspeople hid from him, just as he suspected, but little by little, they came to recognize the brothers as a source of business and prosperity, even offering Night samples of baked goods when the two skeleton monsters ventured to the market for supplies. Their acceptance was so much more rewarding than their fear.

By day, Night worked on himself, but when the velvety curtain of nighttime fell, Night worked on his personal hobby- pleasuring his brother. Night discovered that if he licked, sucked, and stroked Dream’s pussy and clit just right, he could curl Dream’s toes, arch his spine, make his eyelights roll back and his pussy gush with sweet arousal. He drank the explosion of juices and drove Dream to new heights of orgasm every night. The breeding still hadn’t taken yet, but it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying.

Thoughts of delving between his brother’s thighs occupied Night’s mind while Dream bent over in the courtyard garden, inspecting the heavy buds on the flowers he’d nurtured. Night expected them to have bloomed by now, opening their petals to drink the early morning dew as flower blossoms generally did, but he lacked the horticultural knowledge to be sure. If anyone could awaken a riot of colors on the once drab grounds, though, it would be his brother.

Dream straightened. “The flowers are ready,” he declared, interrupting Night’s salacious reverie.

“Ready for what?” Night asked, perplexed. Were they going to bloom right now? He craned his neck, but the buds looked the same as they had a few minutes ago, the same as they had looked yesterday and the day before that. How could Dream even tell they were ready?

“For tonight.”

“Tonight?” echoed Night, feeling extremely silly even without Dream using the term of endearment. Dream just smiled at him and nodded without elaborating. Night thanked the stars that he wasn’t a cat or curiousity would’ve come in for a swift and brutal assassination right then and there. Instead, he resigned himself to wait. He trusted his brother.

Dream gently pushed Night away when he burrowed under the covers for his bedtime snack. “Later,” Dream promised with a musical laugh when Night pouted and grumbled. To his credit, the disappointed skeleton moved away, accepting the rejection, something he wouldn’t have done when Dream first moved to the castle with him. 

Night wanted to be better, but change was hard… as hard as he was, going to sleep with his mind filled with images of railing his brother senseless without the benefit of actually doing so. The disappointment softened and gave way to contentment, however, when Dream curled up next to him. Sometimes pleasure came from putting his brother’s desires first, even if they countermanded his own.

Dream roused his brother a few hours after midnight, holding up a picnic basket and a blanket invitingly. Night yawned and stretched, pulling on his clothing and following dutifully behind his brother who seemed so out of place creeping through the castle corridors under cover of darkness, his golden aura shimmering like a fiery torch to ward off the chill and tendrils of shadows that crawled along the floor just outside of the sphere of illumination. 

When the two skeletons arrived in the courtyard, Night couldn’t contain his gasp of wonder. The full moon angled perfectly over the inner walls of the castle to kiss the garden with enchantment, and the flowers held their blossoms wide open for the attention. Under the moon’s pale glow, Night picked out lovely shades of white, yellow, pink, and even deep, rich blues and purples, and the scents filled the air, delicate and mysterious. Smiling smugly, Dream spread the picnic blanket on a patch of lush grass and set the basket on top of it.

“I only planted night-blooming flowers,” he explained unnecessarily. “I wanted you to see the beauty that thrives in the darkness.” He patted the blanket, and Night sat down next to him.

“Darkness sure, but nothing can survive in negativity,” Night argued weakly. His eyelights darted from plant to plant, painstakingly chosen and lovingly tended to provide this gift for him. He didn’t deserve it. He was still the embodiment of negativity even if he wasn’t actively wielding it like a shield and sword.

Dream sighed wistfully, and Night regretted his characteristically negative comments. He should be thanking his brother, not arguing with him. Dream’s next words surprised him.

“You’re wrong.” Night just stared at his brother. “Adversity promotes growth. It encourages people to strive and overcome, to find the strength to move forward, and to appreciate their achievements in spite of it. Positivity breeds stagnation and complacency.” Night tried to argue the point, but Dream held up a hand to silence him. “Without negativity to give people goals to work towards, positivity is meaningless. Without the hope for a positive outcome, negativity destroys. Positivity and negativity need each other, like we need each other.”

Tears gathered in Dream’s sockets, and Night reached over to wipe them away. Dream sniffled but continued his speech as Night wordlessly wrapped his arms around his brother. “People loved me for my positivity. They basked in my light, and I let them. It felt good to be admired, to be valued, but they only wanted the positivity for themselves and nothing else. They didn’t know me or want to know me, yet I let them lure me away from the one person who truly understood me. I let their attention blind me to your suffering until you felt you had no other choice but to consume the apples and kill the tree. You didn’t cause what happened here, Night. We both did.”

“I-” Night sputtered, but Dream pushed him down onto the blanket and straddled him, tears quelled and eyelights hazy with desire.

“I want to make it up to you,” Dream whispered against his skull in a husky voice before running his hand down the front of his brother’s pants and stroking the magic into a throbbing erection. Night could only groan in anticipation.

Dream shimmied out of his pants, then tugged Night’s pants off as well, tossing them carelessly away into the silver-dappled darkness. He lowered himself, locking eyelights with Night and letting his golden tongue dart out to catch a drop of pre-cum on his cock. Stroking the length of the purple shaft almost reverently, Dream lapped at it until it glistened with his saliva. Lifting himself up, he guided it between his pussy lips. Night actually thought he might faint at the initial hitch of entry. He’d never experienced such intense pleasure in his life, and Dream was only getting started.

Dream lowered himself with agonizing slowness, letting Night feel the tight grip of his pussy sliding all the way down the length of his cock, squeezing and fluttering around it as it filled him up and spread his plump pussy lips wide. Night panted and moaned beneath his brother as Dream gradually quickened his pace, lifting and lowering himself, tilting his hips to get the perfect angle. Night held on to his brother’s pelvis, lifting his own to thrust in tandem with his brother. 

Their heads tipped back and their tongues protruded from their gasping mouths as they worked together towards a powerful orgasm. It built swiftly, like thunderheads darkening the sky just prior to opening up and letting the deluge of blinding pleasure roll over the two skeletons.

“B-breed me, Night, Fill me up,” wailed Dream plaintively.

“So close… almost… ahh!” Night cried, arching his back and slamming into Dream one final time, holding him in place as cum poured into his eager pussy. Dazed and drunk on the sweet bliss of orgasm afterglow, Dream laid his head on Night’s chest, closed his sockets, and dozed off. Night fell asleep underneath his brother, still inside of him, and for once, completely satisfied with the world.

“Night! Night wake up! You have to see this!” Dream’s excited voice shattered Night’s sleep, and after the disorientation of waking up outside, pantsless in the courtyard solidified into memories of last night, Night shot bolt upright. Dream faced away from him. Could he be…?

Night rushed to his side, ready to ask Dream if there was a soulling growing inside of him when he saw it. A rapidly growing sapling occupied the site where their tree once stood. In a matter of minutes, the new tree had matured enough to bear small fruits, and Dream and Night both reached out to touch one.

The fruits of the new tree bore only a small resemblance to their predecessors. The apples on this new tree were smooth and gold… and shot through with shimmering darkness that possessed a blue-purple iridescence similar to Night’s magic. The appearance of the fruit was a riddle easily solved. These apples were light and darkness. These apples were positivity and negativity. These apples were balance. These apples were theirs, and this time they would protect them.

Together.

INDEX | READ ON AO3

[vislokawitch]

This painting makes me question my reality. I can't help but wonder what the third asscheek means?

Does this creature has two arseholes?

Does it have three legs? The middle one is bouncing grotesquely as it walks...

Does the middle cheek feels squeezed between the other two when the creature is sitting? Gosh, I hope it doesn't have hemorrhoids

What is going on?

How?

These three asscheeks are going to hunt my nightmares

My painting I'm working on. The cursed children at the front add to the spectacle. Let the second image haunt your dreams.

[seenashwrite]

SNIPED (Part Five)

Status: Complete (Part 5 of 5) Word Count: 7K Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit for Adult Themes including - Graphic sexual situations; Mild-to-moderate violence; Coarse language Categories: Drama; Action; Romance; Porn-with-Plot; Smut; On-the-hunt Character(s): Dean; Sam; Reader/O.C. Female; Jody; Crowley [briefly]; Alex & Claire [mentioned]; Castiel [mentioned] Pairings: Dean x Reader/OC Female [Pts. 2 & 5]; Sam x Reader/OC Female [Pt. 3] Warning(s): See “Rating” section above Author’s Note(s): See Part One & post-story Overall Summary: The Winchesters receive assistance on their case from a sniper. Part Four & Five Summary: The sniper gets the answers she’s been waiting - and almost dying - for, regarding both her past and, potentially, her future.

                 || SNIPED Master Post ||

A deep, guttural howl hit my ears as I fell. It wasn't mine; never saw much point in screaming when I got hurt. Then I recall seeing a bright light, as if a star went nova right in front of me. Windows shattering, snowflakes of glass pricking the side of my face and neck.

There was soft cottony fabric against my face. Dean's smell. A metal smell. Feeling like half of me was lying in a warm bath. Feeling ice cold at the same time.

Jody's tearful voice. The roar of the Impala's engine as it was gunning, over and over. Sam saying something. Dean shouting castor... catty... casty... something.

An awful whistling sound, then a gurgling sound, then I was gagging into the fabric at my face, a mouthful of liquid pouring out, but not enough to stop the choking, and I couldn't make my throat do anything about it. I remember realizing Dean must've been holding me, that I was fighting to bring a hand up, feeling stickiness on his chest and belly, wondering if he was bleeding, how badly he was hurt.

And then I became aware I was lying on a hard surface. Felt my back arching away from it, shooting upwards at the waist, sitting bolt straight. I remember sucking in a massive amount of air, so much it hurt my throat and rattled my entire upper body. An odd, slightly monotone, but calming voice I'd never heard before. Dean's voice, sounding muddied, far away, my vision caked in shadows, until....

Everything went black this time.

But now..... Now I blinked, slowly opening my eyes, carefully easing into a sitting position, trying to get my bearings.

"MOM!"

Glancing to my right, Jody's kid - the blonde one - scrambled from her seated position on the floor where she'd been reading, tripping over her books - and her own feet - ricocheting into the hallway off of the door frame, startled into clumsiness and calling Jody something I'd have bet the farm she'd never done voluntarily before.

I looked around and saw that I was in Jody's house, in her bedroom, in her bed, bundled with far too many blankets and pillows. I looked down, running my hands over my torso, which was clad in an old concert t-shirt I recognized as Jody's, and saw I’d also been outfitted in pastel flower-patterned pajama pants that must've been the brunette kid's, and then I took in the sight of my thumb. I wiggled it in front of my face. My broken and dislocated thumb was... perfect. I immediately pulled up the shirt, mashing and pressing. No soreness, no pain, no gunshot, no bandage, no blood. Nothing.

I touched my face - my cheek was fine. I felt my chin - no cut. And I dreaded moving, wondering how long I'd been stuck horizontal, knowing my back was going to punish me for it. But I peeled back the bedding and stood right up without an ache, without a hitch. I was frowning and pushing pretty hard on my lower vertebrae when brisk footfalls approached.

"Oh thank christ!" Jody exclaimed, throwing the dishrag she held to the floor as she rushed in, enveloped me in a huge hug. She smelled of fried chicken grease. It was the best thing ever.

I hugged her back, but then her squeezing got a little ridiculous. "Okay, Jo," I said with a chuckle.

Jody pulled away, placed her hands on either side of my face, then adopted her don't-you-cross-me look. "Never. Again."

I felt my eyes get misty. "No, ma'am," I whispered.

She picked up the dishtowel, threw it over her shoulder. "Move it. Dinner's almost ready."

It had been almost thirty-six hours exactly. Jody and the girls told me that - minus one slightly comatose trip to the bathroom which had taken all three to manage - I'd slept through all of them. I was ravenous for the first time in months, ate two helpings of everything. And though I couldn't imagine being able to sleep more, I found myself groggily piling into Jody's bed with her as night fell. We were turned towards each other, speaking quietly. Well, Jody was speaking. I was listening. Crowley had been hurt, she assured me, but he was so powerful, it had likely been a lost cause from the start.

"I know, silly," I told her with a sad sort of smile.

"Then why the hell--"

"He threatened Dean," I answered simply.

And Jody nodded. All the answer she needed. She'd seen love on me before, and she recognized it now. "You haven't asked where he and Sam are," she pointed out.

"Ah, well... they aren't here, so... that's all I need to know."

Jody gave me a look. "Don't pull that nothing-impacts-me-because-I'm-a-stone-cold-bitch routine on me. I invented that before you even thought to. You can't bullshit a bullshitter, as they say."

I just looked at her calmly, a tiny smile on my lips. I knew she was going to tell me, anyway. And part of me did want to know how furious Dean was with me. Prepare myself to leave Jody's physically, leave Dean mentally. Move on.

She sighed. "What do you remember?"

"I thought I was dying," I admitted. "I've been shot before, but shit. Saw the white light and everything."

Jody raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that was Castiel."

And then my eyebrows shot up. "The angel?"

She nodded. "He couldn't get in, they'd warded and sigiled and had actually lit a ring of holy fire around the whole place before we got there. So he stood across the street, took out some of Crowley's pricks, then---"

"And then the glory of the lord shone 'round about me?" I finished with a wry grin.

Jody snickered. "Oh, yeah. You've got nothing on his breaching prowess, my friend. He's also the reason you're alive. Healed you right up."

"Wow," I said under my breath. Then - "He fixed my back while he was at it."

"You're kidding me."

I shook my head. "It feels like... like before. I feel like before. I mean, just not... not..."

"Not your heart," Jody said, finishing for me. A few moments of silence. "It worked him over good. Dean. He went into shock, froze on the spot. And Sam, he just scooped you up and ran to the car."

"Oh?" I whispered.

She nodded. "We put you in the back with Dean, Sam punched it, got us the hell outta there. And Dean just wouldn't let you go, I kept trying to help hold your wound, but... he had you so, so tight."

Tears were in both my eyes and hers.

"Kiddo, don't give up on him. After Cas healed you, Dean was begging him to wake you up, just so he could know for sure you were all there. But Cas said you were in, and I quote, 'Dire need of rest'. Apparently you've been burning the ol' candle at both ends, huh?"

I nodded.

Jody looked at me seriously. "Promise me you're done with Crowley."

"Jo, I---"

"I mean it," she said, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I can't. Not again. If anything happened to you or the girls---"

"I know," I told her, and for the first time in our long friendship, I hugged her instead of the other way around. We pulled apart and while she was wiping her eyes, she continued.

"But then Dean started practically climbing the walls, just couldn't stay. Sam wanted to. There was almost a round two. Glad Cas had hung around, I was just wandering around in a haze by that point. The girls told me they'd taken off while I was in the shower."

"Back to Kansas?"

Jody gave me a one-shouldered shrug. "Wish I could say." A pause. "Can I text him to let him know you're awake?"

"Um..." I thought for a second. I had no clue where my phone was anyway, probably still with my rifle. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Jody nodded, turned briefly to the night stand, grabbed her phone. A few taps, then a whoosh as the text zipped away. She settled back on her side to face me again, phone between us on the bed. She watched me carefully.

"I don't have my hopes up," I told her calmly and honestly.

If I were Dean - after my mistake with Sam, after all the pushing away I'd done, going after Crowley when he'd warned me not to, then after essentially dying in his arms - hell, if I were him I'd be halfway to Alaska by now, fuck Kansas. It was maybe two minutes before Jody's phone dinged and we looked down at the screen simultaneously.

O.K.

I went back home, back to a normal routine, back to teaching, even back to a morning jogging regimen. Kept Crowley's gift on me at all times. Retired the wedding bands to a box at the back of a drawer.

It was a little over a month later while I was in the midst of walking the line at the range, giving the occasional instruction, that I felt my phone vibrate. I couldn't check it til the end of the session. I'd received a voice mail from Jody.

Sam came through. Just talked to him, and they're done with the marathon of dead-end leads Dean insisted they check out. They'll be at the bunker for the foreseeable future, according to Sam, and it sure as shit sounds like he means business. I'll pick up your mail for you. Let me know you got there safe.

Dean had only seen me in camouflage and a slutty cocktail dress. And naked. And mostly dead. So it was I found myself once again in a random bathroom, this time closer to the Kansas-Nebraska state line, pants around my ankles.

Except now, I was changing into black slacks that emphasized my waist, very form-fitting, but only to a point. They hugged just the top and a little more than halfway down the curves of my asscheeks before they shot downward with sharp creases, loosening up around my newly re-acquired thick runner's thighs, growing wider til they almost hit the floor, were it not for a pair of black kitten-heeled ankle boots. I liked how the cuffs swished around my feet when I walked, as close as I'd ever get to a ballgown, no doubt.

And the wide-collared, dark grey button-down I wore on top was just as crisply creased. It resembled a man's dress shirt, though it was cut just right for a woman's curves. It was nearly skin tight, only a bit of blousing occurring at the top of the pants. My boobs had shrunk a little, of course, because the universe couldn't have possibly assigned the weight loss to my hips first, but I didn't mind. I hated bras anyway, and though I probably still could've used one, I opted for a lacy black camisole. And I purposefully left one extra button of the blouse undone. Not for flirting. Only to show I'd retired my necklace. I hoped I'd get the opportunity to tell him it was permanent.

I still rolled the cuffs up my forearms, and I still wore crazily-patterned knee-high socks underneath, and I still couldn't be bothered to do much more than muted brownish-pink lipstick and mascara. Waterproof, by way of warding off my personal demons. But I left my hair loose how he'd liked it. I'd even used scented shampoo. I wanted to be as put-together on the outside as I desperately wanted to be on the inside. I wanted Dean to see - if Dean would choose to see me - that I was trying. That I cared. That if he really wanted to go for some sort of normal, then I was in.

I was in all the way.

I got there around eight. The Impala was parked just outside the door Jody had described as the one I'd need to go to. I parked so I wouldn't block them in, just in case Dean - or Sam - decided to make a run for it.

At the ready.

Make a tight fist.

Breathe in.

Let out.

Now knock.

I was standing with my hands in my pockets, half turned away from the door, glancing up and behind me at my surroundings while I waited. I'd been counting; it had been three minutes. Three-thirty. Three-forty-five. Three---

The hinges creaked, and I turned.

Dean stood there with widened eyes but a furrowed brow. His maroon-colored button-down was loose atop a black t-shirt. He was wearing a pair of his darker denim, and the same brown boots as always on his feet. He needed a shave, possibly a haircut.

No. No, not really. He was stunning.

And he was still. Not happy, not sad, not angry, not looking me up-and-down. Just there.

"Hi," I tried.

Dean met my eye. Then he exhaled a long breath. He still didn't speak.

"I, uh..."

I was crumbling already. Shit.

I pulled a hand from my pocket and jabbed a thumb over my shoulder towards my car, saying, "I shouldn't have shown up like this, I guess I was just afraid you'd, ah..." I let out a nervous little chuckle. "That you'd take off. But, um. Still. Bad idea." Now I looked at my shoes. I felt the wetness coming to my eyes. I nodded my head, still looking down. "Okay. Um. Okay."

A final nod, from myself to myself, an encouragement I was making the right call. I turned on my heel and headed back up the concrete steps.

Dean jerked me around and into his arms so quickly I almost fell - then suddenly, out of nowhere, I was wracked with sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I put you through that," I managed to choke out, gripping him as tightly as he gripped me, so much so I thought we might break each other.

Dean sniffled, and when he pulled away to bring his hands up to either side of my face, I saw tears slowly streaming down his. And then his brow knitted together, his face clenched up, on the verge of full-on crying. But he smashed his mouth onto mine, and we fell into a hungry, desperate sort of kiss, both of us letting out hitched breaths as we allowed our pain to ease away.

"You were so cold and pale," he whispered against my skin, now planting kisses around random spots on my face. "I thought every drop of your blood had come out."

"Oh, Dean. Oh, I'm so sorry," I whispered back, putting my hands atop Dean's, which were still clutching my face, keeping it close to his.

"I thought Cas wouldn't get to you in time," Dean said, starting to weep, his voice cracking on his last few words, and there went my tears again as he brought his lips back to me, kissing a trail along my jaw.

This couldn't keep on. We were going to be piles of goo. I didn't want to melt down.

"Is the Impala alright?"

Dean pulled back from his kisses, blinked. Another sniffle. He looked confused. "What?"

"Did I ruin your car?"

"Did you... what?"

"I'm worried you won't be able to get all my mess cleaned up," I replied, the corner of my mouth tweaking up. 

A touch of a twinkle came to his eyes.

"It's why I drove down here," I continued. "I'm very concerned about the condition of that gorgeous hunk of machinery. I'm ashamed of the state I left it in."

There was that beautiful smile. "Well, uh, that car's tough. Been through worse."

"Still. The guilt's killing me. Can I write you a check?"

"Shut up," he muttered as he leaned in.

And then another kiss, a deep, slow one, absent of anguish, only filled with desire. Dean pressed against me, pulling our bodies close. I could feel him getting harder and harder.

"Come inside with me," he said, just like he had so long ago back when we sat in Jody's driveway, back before we were nearly torn apart.

"Oh, Mr. Winchester. I'll go anywhere with you," I told him softly, bringing a hand up and gently brushing hair away from his forehead. Dean's eyes closed and he tilted his head, kissing the inside of my wrist.

"We're about to have the place to ourselves, Sammy's headed out soon," he informed me as we went in, then shut the door. Grabbing me by the waist, pulling me in again, he added, "So we can make as much noise as we want."

I grinned as he grasped my hand tightly, pulling me along at a quick pace into his room.

Another one of those slow, deep kisses. Dean ran his hand inside the top of my shirt, cupping a breast through the lace, gently squeezing. I gingerly raised one leg after the other as we kissed, balancing carefully as I unzipped my boots and kicked them away. Then I ran my hands up his chest to his shoulders as he moved on to my other breast, pushing his shirt off as much as I could. Dean went to pull my blouse apart even more, when the next button popped, shooting off and making a tink-tink-tink sound as it hop-skipped away. 

He met my eye with a crooked grin and a shrug, then removed his shirt. I followed suit, and he tossed them somewhere, moved on to running his hands along my waist. "How do you..." he muttered with a little frown, studying my slacks, apparently disinterested in my top half for now, ready to move on to the next stage of my undressing.

I laughed. "Here," I said, guiding his hand to the zipper running up the back.

Dean crushed himself against me again as he unzipped and I slid my hands under his t-shirt, stroking his muscular back and looking up into his eyes with I know what must have been a goofy smile on my face. He grinned back, those crinkles at the corners of his eyes making an appearance, and god, I just wanted to plant kisses on them. Unzipped now, he went to guide my slacks down, running his hands beyond the hem of my cami to cup my ass, when he gasped.

"Underwear slows things down," I explained.

"Oh fuck," he moaned into my mouth as he kissed me again, pulling me close, hands gently caressing my asscheeks with every swirl of his tongue.

"You're so hard," I whispered when his lips moved to my neck.

Then he suddenly squatted, pulling my slacks down, guiding me into raising one foot after the other as he removed them completely, then tossed them over to a chair. He missed. I didn't give a shit.

The hem of the long camisole landed just barely above my pussy. Dean moved from the squat into a kneeling position, first pressing his face into the fabric, inhaling and exhaling several times. His breath swept under the hem as his face eased lower, and I felt chills.

"I remember this smell," he said. "I dreamt of this smell, of this taste."

And after that last part, Dean's tongue drug along the creases where my thighs met my pussy, one after another. I let out an involuntary groan, my knees getting a little weak. He gripped the back of my legs and I raised the hem of the cami, holding the fabric up higher, looking down so I could watch every moment. He hadn't eaten me out last time, we were too spent, only ran his tongue over and around lightly after we'd masturbated for each other. I was getting wetter and wetter just thinking about what he would do now.

Dean's tongue was flat and wide, pushing aside my puffy lips, dragging it slowly over my clit, then starting over, this time curving to the right, focusing on just that side of my clit, repeating it with the left side, back to running over the top. His hands had gradually moved from the back of my legs around to the front, and he sat back on his heels, looking at my clit so tenderly as he used his thumbs to push my lips up and to the side, exposing it fully.

He gently blew a little stream of air on it. I shivered. He leaned in closer, did it again. My breaths were getting shallow. I felt wetness beginning to seep out of me at an ever-increasing rate. And when Dean put his mouth on me again, he only gave my clit a mild suck before going after it rapidly with the tip of his tongue, wrapping his arms around my legs to steady me, batting my clit up, down, around like a punching bag.

"I'm... I'm... gonna... f-fall... D-Dean..." I stuttered out, reaching down to touch his head and get his attention.

And he planted a hand on my lower back as he rose, the other hooked under one of my knees, spun us both around, letting me sit down on the bed. I laid back, let him keep my leg pushed up and back with his hand, then he was kneeling again, his lips almost immediately latching onto my throbbing clit once more. Then his other hand, goddamn, those hands, came to my dripping core. I felt his index and middle finger glide in with ease.

"Mmmmm," Dean growled against me, the vibrations sending a telltale shiver through me.

"I'm so close," I panted, grabbing onto however much bedding I possibly could. I never came easily, not even for myself. It was a small miracle I'd been able to come for him on my last visit. But just watching him from across the room had made it happen much more quickly. Now I was about to explode.

Dean's fingers were methodical, prodding firmly but not roughly, a third finger sneaking in gently and it felt so good when he started almost clutching my cunt, his hand curving, the heel of his palm against my taint, bumping it as his fingers went in and out.

My thighs began to shake. I heard myself whimpering. Felt my other leg go up and to the side of its own accord. Dean removed his hand from me, damp against my skin as it moved to help my leg stay back. I felt the quivers building inside.

"Come for me, honey," I heard his husky voice say, before that long stroke of his tongue went over my clit for what would be the final time. My eyes slammed shut, my jaw clenched to the point of soreness.

Never been a screamer or a wailer, never. Didn't plan on starting now. It was too porn-y. But god almighty, did a deep groan come from somewhere and I didn't fully realize it was me until I noted Dean's mouth was still occupied, gently lapping at my cunt as I came.

Gasping for air, feeling like I was on fire, my eyes still closed, I felt Dean move from in between my legs. All I could think was that there was too much on me, and I was struggling to manipulate the stupid cami over my stupid head.

"Errrrr," I fussed, feeling a frown come to my brow, still too spent to sit up or even bother to open my eyes.

I heard rustling, a zipper, then Dean chuckled from somewhere nearby. I felt the mattress move, felt his naked body next to me, then he playfully batted my hands away.

"Hang tight, I got this," he said, remnants of the chuckle still floating over his words.

"Sadists made this," I stated flatly, my eyes still closed as I let my arms flop out to either side.

Dean laughed, and then I felt the cami rise as his hands ran up my torso, slip under my arms, pulling me up the bed, and then over onto him, as he rolled to his back.

I sat up, finally opening my eyes, looking down at him as I straddled his thigh and took off the last bit of clothing standing between us. His hand had drifted to the small of my back, rubbing it gently, occasionally alternating with slow scratching. He put his other arm behind his head, propping it up a bit, looking at me with a cat-that-ate-the-canary close-lipped smile.

"You look awful proud of yourself," I noted, tossing the cami... somewhere, who knows.

He responded with a little shrug.

I grinned, then crawled up his body, placed my hands on either side of his face, kissing him til I absolutely had to stop to breathe.

"Whoo," Dean muttered, eyes widening, apparently having almost been robbed of his breath, as well. He was still rubbing my back as I eased away. I moved my leg so that I was straddling both his thighs. 

I was looking down at my hands as they slowly ran over his cock, no pressure right now, just caressing, base to tip. The uptick in his breathing let me know I was doing something right. He was still watching my face intently. I could always tell when he was, didn't even have to look.

"I'd appreciate you thanking your angel friend for me," I said, now beginning to apply bits of pressure to my strokes here-and-there. I was watching his tip like a hawk for the first sign of pre-cum.

"Whu... wha... huh?" Dean said, and I glanced up to see one of those montages of facial expressions.

I shook my head and chuckled. "You reminded me---"

His eyebrows shot up. "What has happened in here that could possibly---"

I gave him a look, then removed one of my hands from his dick, brought it behind me briefly to pat his hand. "He took away five years of pain overnight. I mean, yeah, the gunshot," I went on, returning my hand to its current mission.

"Yeah, the gunshot," Dean repeated in a semi-sarcastic tone, but his eyes were crinkly and sparkling when I glanced at him, which brought a wide smile to my face.

"Well, because, typically I'd prefer you standing or in a chair, so I could have room to fidget," I continued, moving from my straddle and scooting up the bed on my knees, then turning, my lower back and ass next to his chest, still gently stroking as I went. "But see, now," I went on, looking him dead in the eye, increasing the pressure of my touch before leaving my right hand at the base and putting my left hand on his left thigh.

A sharp intake of breath from Dean.

"Now I've got the right angle. And will absolutely ruin you for other women." With a wink, I leaned over and plunged his cock a little more than three-quarters of the way down my throat.

A huge gulp of breath behind me. His pelvis actually jolted and the thigh on which my hand rested went into a few small spasms. Incoherent mutterings from behind me drifted to my ear. Dean wasn't even on the planet, I could tell by the way he was halfheartedly running his hand up my back with no discernible pattern or plan whatsoever.

I hadn't yet taken him all in. I was determined to do it. It would be a challenge, to be sure, but after all - challenges were my specialty. Focus, concentration, controlling my gag reflex versus letting it control me. Dean was well above average in both length and girth, and I knew from last time the girth had still yet to meet its potential. And I aimed to see what I could do to motivate his cock to be all it could be. Quickly licking his length then distributing the moisture with my hand to give my lips a little more help to slide, I paused at the tip, peppering it with little kisses as I looked back to him.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered.

"Can I tell you a secret?" I whispered back in between kisses.

"Yes."

"This is going to be my favorite thing to do to you."

I had him completely down my throat in two tries. Dean's heels had almost immediately come up to flatten against the bed near his ass. I felt his hands disappear completely but then heard them smack against something, I assume the headboard. He was fighting hard to keep from thrusting his hips into my face, I could tell, bless him, so I only kept to deep-throating for a few plunges. I wanted Dean happy, but I also wanted him to fuck me, so him having an orgasm at this point was not on the docket.

I worked the top third of his cock with my mouth, the rest with my hand, rotating and stroking, but not pumping - that would be addressed soon enough. His legs had relaxed and I took the opportunity to gently stroke his balls, the insides of his thighs, when I felt his hips begin to shift closer to the middle of the bed. Then  his hands on my right leg, lifting it and settling it to his right. And then his hands on either hip, urging me backwards as his own hips slid down.

"Ah!" I gasped around his engorged dick, momentarily distracted from my mission as it seemed Dean was on a mission of his own - he'd buried his face in my pussy again, his scruffy face scratching over my bare mound and inner thighs every time his jaw moved to take in more and more, his chin rubbing against my sore clit, his nose pressed against my taint while he plunged his tongue into me, then ran it around the edges of my weeping entrance.

He groaned as I sped up my strokes, increased the sucks, my lips making the occasional pop as they left his dripping tip, only to go back for more. I couldn't really take him into my mouth any longer, his girth at its peak, too large to risk the delicate skin running against my teeth. My mouth physically could no longer accommodate his size, and my fingers were only just making contact around his cock.

I carefully disengaged from his mouth, easing off to his left. He helped me settle back, his hand guiding my ass, as I pulled my leg across his chest, turning to face him again. Dean was wiping his hand across his damp chin and mouth as I leaned over, planting kisses randomly across his chest.

"Shit," he commented, and I glanced up. His hand was still at his face, but now he was rubbing his jawline. "Was this hurting you?" he asked, his expression one of concern.

I felt the corners of my mouth curl up. "In a good way."

He grinned. "You're right. You're ruining me."

Then both of our faces grew more solemn as we looked at each other. I brought myself up closer, lying on my right side and he did the same, on his left, facing me, reaching up and brushing fly-aways from my face, then letting his hand linger as he came in close, giving me another one of those sweet, slow, soft first kisses.

I brought my left leg up, gently laid it over his hip. He scooted in closer and closer. We didn't speak. Never took our eyes off each other. Not even as I guided him into me.I was caught off-guard, letting my eyes flutter shut and my mouth fall open a bit, squeezing his shoulder and gasping as he slowly tried to push further inside of me. Seeing it was one thing; stroking it, another; even the blow job didn't prepare me for this, for the stretch, for the feeling of fullness, and he hadn't even  gotten close to full penetration.

"Holy shit, holy shit," I babbled, my voice shaky.

Dean replaced my hand with his, continuing the process. His lips pressed to mine, silencing me momentarily, then he paused - both the kiss and his entry, letting himself ease out - to look at me. "This is perfect," he whispered. "I don't want this to stop."

"It doesn't have to," I whispered back. I pulled on his shoulder a bit and he responded, kissing me again as he moved himself to hover over me, to settle between my legs. But before he did was I was dying for him to do----

"At Jody's... when you were talking about what you were, how I didn't know what..."

He looked nervous, pained, so I reached up, stroked the side of his face. "I know who you are, Dean."

A small shake of his head. "Sometimes I don't. And what I was---"

"What did you tell me? About your soul? You told me you felt this, us, in your soul. And that's all I ever need to know about it." 

Another round of breathless kisses, then Dean and I once more stared at each other as he positioned the head of his cock. 

"I wanna do this slow," I told him, and he nodded. 

We were going to make this last.

Concentrating, his eyes closing for the moment, he pushed past my entry and we both sighed. We were watching each other carefully as he pushed further, never jabbing, never thrusting. I tilted my pelvis as I opened my legs even wider and the angle allowed for a small, but abrupt amount of progress towards my core.

I inhaled sharply, bit my lip; I felt like a goddamned virgin.

"Ssssh, sshh," Dean whispered. "I got you, baby."

I willed myself to relax. Then there was more. A little more. More. And finally I felt Dean fully flush against me, completely inside of me, stretching my walls, and already I felt like I was going to float away. He pressed down onto me then, his forearms against the mattress so as not to put his full weight on me. I had one arm around his shoulders and one across his back. We kissed.

"Tell me," Dean said softly, ever-so-slightly moving his pelvis to-and-fro.

"Tell you what, gorgeous?"

He actually blushed a bit at that. "Pretty to gorgeous, huh?"

I grinned, relaxing even more, allowing him to move freely. His eyes closed, a hiss passed through his teeth, then he looked at me again. Slowly rocking, a barely-there rhythm began to emerge.

"Tell me," he repeated.

A tiny furrow of my brow. "Tell you what?"

Dean sighed against my mouth as he pulled back almost to the point of emerging, his eyes hooded, desire streaming off of him. "Tell me you won't let anyone else touch you like this."

"Oh, love. How could I?"

He buried his head between my shoulder and my neck, then he buried his cock in me with one solid push, both of us crying out in unison, gripping onto each other tightly, as his rhythm hit a still slow, but steady rate. It felt like he was growing even larger inside me, my walls contracting, pulling him in with each thrust.

"Tell me we're not just fucking," Dean panted into my ear, his arms leaving the bed, now gripping my hips, my ass, fingers digging into my flesh, tilting my pelvis even more, plunging even deeper though it didn't seem possible.

My hands flew up to his head and I pulled his face up, away from my neck so I could look him in the eyes. I shook my head a tiny bit. I spoke firmly. "Never with you."

Dean's face looked like it was about to crumble, and he smashed his lips to mine, his tongue exploring every bit of my mouth, and mine his, my back arching with ease as I matched his rhythm and we sped up in unison, completely connected and moving as one.

His hands left my hips, his forearms coming to rest beside me higher than before, my new back allowing me to curl up with such ease I could've just kissed that angel. Dean's hands came up to either side of my head. My hands were on his ass, holding him, pressing him into me, encouraging him to pump harder, faster. We were both sweaty and sticky and lost, no longer kissing, just sighing and moaning into each others' parted lips.

"Are you..." I asked, trailing off.

Dean couldn't manage even one word, merely nodded.

I removed my hands from his ass, leaving one on his back, sliding the other between us, rubbing my clit vigorously. I was already so close. Just having Dean inside of me would've been enough. But I wanted this to be everything for him.

"I want you to come inside me," I gasped, feeling the orgasm beginning to overtake me.

"Oh fuck oh yes oh fuck," he chanted as he started to feel me clamping down around him.

I cried out as I came on his throbbing cock, and he groaned moments later, and I felt the pulsing as he spilled over. Dean virtually collapsed on top of me, both of us spent, panting like animals, my thighs still twitching as my orgasm subsided. My pussy ached. My hips ached. But my heart... not there. Not any longer.

Dean started to move.

"No, no," I whispered, "stay. Just a little while."

And he did.

Every time we kissed it felt new. That night, the next morning in the shower, then that night when we made love again. I ended up staying at the bunker for a week. Sam went off to tackle a minor case on his own. We barely noticed.

"This is such a bad idea," I said, chuckling.

On another random morning, after breakfast, I still had on Dean's bathrobe - which I’d essentially claimed as mine - and was standing at the foot of the stairs with my arms crossed, watching him, naked as a jay bird, getting situated atop a towel he'd placed on one of the steps.

It was way too far up the staircase.

"What?" he asked, looking at me with a big smile and wide, innocent eyes.

"Ha! No. You fucking well know 'what'. Don't put on the act." I pointed to the first few steps. "Plant your ass there, and your feet on the floor, so I don't get thrown down a flight of stairs and crack my skull."

"You don't trust me to keep a hold on you, that's what this is," Dean declared, but he was grinning and doing as he was told, semi-erect and the picture of bliss.

"That is absolutely accurate," I replied, letting the robe fall to the floor as he took his seat, now much more trustworthy and stable.

Dean stroked himself, eyed me up and down as I came closer. "Wait a minute," he said as I moved to straddle him.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, for - I swear to god..."

Dean looked at me seriously. "I've fallen in love with you."

I went completely numb.

"You don't have to say it back," he continued, his tone growing a little gruffer, like he was giving an order. "Hell, I don't want you to say it back. Not right now. Or I'll think you did, because I did."

I nodded my understanding.

Wow.

After a single, firm nod in acknowledgment, Dean reached out, drew me in, kissed me as he helped guide me onto his lap, then onto his cock.

"This was such a great idea," I said minutes later, chasing it with a satisfied moan.

I was riding him, able to push off the stairs with my feet for some excellent leverage, grab the railings, and lean back far enough to get a fantastic view of his cock plunging in and out of my cunt. And I wasn't the only one mesmerized. Dean's hands were sometimes on my hips, sometimes kneading my breasts, sometimes working my clit, but mostly, like me, he was staring down, watching the point where we connected.

"Told you so," he replied, catching my eye and giving me a little wink. Then he watched me as my chest heaved and my hips moved in quicker gyrations when he began playing with my clit.

I let go of the rails, scooting in closer to him, draping my arms around his shoulders, using Dean for leverage now. His arms went around my back, holding me firmly while he eased my upper body backwards, leaning forward a bit with me, kissed around my chest, suckled at my breasts til both nipples were beyond erect. I was totally secure. Safe. I wasn't going to fall.

"I'm not falling in love with you, you know," I told him in between heavy breaths.

Dean paused, looked to me with a mixture of surprise and confusion, and perhaps a little hurt, passing over his face before he resumed his kisses. But I began to tilt, wanting to sit up, Dean not hesitating to help me come back close to him with his strong arms, letting me envelop his cock completely once more. I kissed his temple, then an eyebrow, then the sprinkling of freckles to the side of his nose. Softly stroking the back of his neck, trailing my fingers out to his shoulders and repeating the motions as I spoke in his ear. 

"I think I started to love you---"

His grip on me tightened.

"---when you fucked up that hunt."

A burst of laughter from him, then back to our mild panting for a few moments. That, and the gentle noises of skin slapping together, were the only sounds in the bunker. They echoed a bit off the walls.

But I wondered if he thought I was joking, so I chose to tell him more.

"I was so pissed you'd shot at that thing... til I realized later that there would've been no way..." My thrusts sped up. He matched them, driving deeper into me. My thighs began clenching his waist. "I thought I could've whipped around in time, hit my knee and gotten off a shot when it came from the side..."

Tiny moans emerged from his lips, his head against me, forehead propped where my neck met my shoulder. His hot breath against my skin made me shiver. I swirled my hips, lifted up a bit, slowly rode his length back down.

"...but you'd seen... knew... knew it would've torn.. t-torn... torn r-right... through me..."

We were sweaty, my pelvis aching from grinding into his, the tip of his impossibly thick cock banging into that heavenly spot over and over, undoing me.

"...and you looked at me, s-so... you were so... n-nobody's ever looked that... sad to have dis... disappointed me," I managed to gasp out, the trembles in my core beginning to reach, spread to the rest of my body. "...even though... y-you... you saved my life."

"I w-wanted... just wanted you t-to like... like me," Dean panted.

Our heads tilted towards each other, our eyes were locked, not anywhere else in the world but with each other. I kissed him gently on the lips. We came together. And as we settled, still on those stairs and wrapped around each other, I spoke again.

"Well, I'm sorry about that whole liking you thing," I mumbled against the side of his head, back to running my fingers over the skin at the nape of his neck.

A small chuckle. "What?"

"I couldn't help it. Skipping right to love."

Dean moved his head, looked at me with that glint in his eye that instantly made me ache all over. "Snipes, you nut. You're not making any sense."

But I was.

"Dean. You know I can't pass up the perfect shot."

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Author’s Note #2: Yeah, so, uh -  bet aside, couldn’t let the tale end on a sour note, I finished it of my own volition. But my “editor” [ha! punishment-dealer] insisted on more descriptors in the smut portion of our tale, therefore I condone virtually *none* of the action verbs/adverbs/whatnots in that general vicinity that you’ve read above. Ahem. Hope you enjoyed!