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zapperrr · 1 year ago

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Securing Your Website: Best Practices for Web Developers

As the digital landscape continues to evolve, website security has become a paramount concern for businesses and individuals alike. With cyber threats becoming increasingly sophisticated, it is crucial for web developers to adopt robust security measures to safeguard their websites and the sensitive data they handle. In this article, we'll delve into the best practices that web developers can implement to enhance the security of their websites and protect against potential threats.

Introduction

In today's interconnected world, websites serve as the digital storefront for businesses, making them vulnerable targets for cyber attacks. From data breaches to malware infections, the consequences of a security breach can be severe, ranging from financial loss to damage to reputation. Therefore, prioritizing website security is essential for maintaining the trust and confidence of users.

Understanding Website Security

Before diving into best practices, it's crucial to understand the importance of website security and the common threats faced by websites. Website security encompasses measures taken to protect websites from cyber threats and unauthorized access. Common threats include malware infections, phishing attacks, SQL injection, cross-site scripting (XSS), and brute force attacks.

Best Practices for Web Developers

Keeping Software Updated

One of the most fundamental steps in website security is keeping all software, including the content management system (CMS), plugins, and server software, updated with the latest security patches and fixes. Outdated software is often targeted by attackers due to known vulnerabilities that can be exploited.

Implementing HTTPS

Implementing HTTPS (Hypertext Transfer Protocol Secure) encrypts the data transmitted between the website and its users, ensuring confidentiality and integrity. HTTPS not only protects sensitive information but also boosts trust among visitors, as indicated by the padlock icon in the browser's address bar.

Using Strong Authentication Methods

Implementing strong authentication methods, such as multi-factor authentication (MFA) and CAPTCHA, adds an extra layer of security to user accounts. MFA requires users to provide multiple forms of verification, such as a password and a one-time code sent to their mobile device, reducing the risk of unauthorized access.

Securing Against SQL Injection Attacks

SQL injection attacks occur when malicious actors exploit vulnerabilities in web applications to execute arbitrary SQL commands. Web developers can prevent SQL injection attacks by using parameterized queries and input validation to sanitize user inputs effectively.

Protecting Sensitive Data

It's essential to employ encryption techniques to protect sensitive data, such as passwords, credit card information, and personal details, stored on the website's servers. Encrypting data at rest and in transit mitigates the risk of data breaches and unauthorized access.

Regular Security Audits

Conducting regular security audits helps identify vulnerabilities and weaknesses in the website's infrastructure and codebase. Penetration testing, vulnerability scanning, and code reviews enable web developers to proactively address security issues before they are exploited by attackers.

Choosing a Secure Hosting Provider

Selecting a reputable and secure hosting provider is critical for ensuring the overall security of your website. When evaluating hosting providers, consider factors such as security features, reliability, scalability, and customer support.

Evaluating Security Features

Choose a hosting provider that offers robust security features, such as firewalls, intrusion detection systems (IDS), malware scanning, and DDoS protection. These features help protect your website from various cyber threats and ensure continuous uptime.

Ensuring Regular Backups

Regularly backing up your website's data is essential for mitigating the impact of security incidents, such as data breaches or website compromises. Choose a hosting provider that offers automated backup solutions and store backups securely offsite.

Customer Support and Response to Security Incidents

Opt for a hosting provider that provides responsive customer support and has established protocols for handling security incidents. In the event of a security breach or downtime, prompt assistance from the hosting provider can minimize the impact on your website and business operations.

Implementing Firewall Protection

Firewalls act as a barrier between your website and external threats, filtering incoming and outgoing network traffic based on predefined security rules. There are several types of firewalls, including network firewalls, web application firewalls (WAF), and host-based firewalls.

Configuring and Maintaining Firewalls

Properly configuring and maintaining firewalls is crucial for effective security. Define firewall rules based on the principle of least privilege, regularly update firewall configurations to reflect changes in the website's infrastructure, and monitor firewall logs for suspicious activity.

Educating Users about Security

In addition to implementing technical measures, educating users about security best practices is essential for enhancing overall website security. Provide users with resources, such as security guidelines, tips for creating strong passwords, and information about common phishing scams.

Importance of User Awareness

Users play a significant role in maintaining website security, as they are often the targets of social engineering attacks. By raising awareness about potential threats and providing guidance on how to recognize and respond to them, web developers can empower users to stay vigilant online.

Providing Training and Resources

Offer training sessions and educational materials to help users understand the importance of security and how to protect themselves while using the website. Regularly communicate updates and reminders about security practices to reinforce good habits.

Monitoring and Responding to Security Incidents

Despite taking preventive measures, security incidents may still occur. Establishing robust monitoring systems and incident response protocols enables web developers to detect and respond to security threats in a timely manner.

Setting Up Monitoring Tools

Utilize monitoring tools, such as intrusion detection systems (IDS), security information and event management (SIEM) systems, and website monitoring services, to detect abnormal behavior and potential security breaches. Configure alerts to notify you of suspicious activity promptly.

Establishing Incident Response Protocols

Develop comprehensive incident response plans that outline roles, responsibilities, and procedures for responding to security incidents. Establish clear communication channels and escalation paths to coordinate responses effectively and minimize the impact of security breaches.

Securing your website requires a proactive approach that involves implementing a combination of technical measures, choosing a secure hosting provider, educating users about security best practices, and establishing robust monitoring and incident response protocols. By following these best practices, web developers can mitigate the risk of security breaches and safeguard their websites and the sensitive data they handle.

#website security has become a paramount concern for businesses and individuals alike. With cyber threats becoming increasingly sophisticated #it is crucial for web developers to adopt robust security measures to safeguard their websites and the sensitive data they handle. In this #we'll delve into the best practices that web developers can implement to enhance the security of their websites and protect against potenti #Introduction #In today's interconnected world #websites serve as the digital storefront for businesses #making them vulnerable targets for cyber attacks. From data breaches to malware infections #the consequences of a security breach can be severe #ranging from financial loss to damage to reputation. Therefore #prioritizing website security is essential for maintaining the trust and confidence of users.#Understanding Website Security #Before diving into best practices #it's crucial to understand the importance of website security and the common threats faced by websites. Website security encompasses measur #phishing attacks #SQL injection #cross-site scripting (XSS)#and brute force attacks.#Best Practices for Web Developers #Keeping Software Updated #One of the most fundamental steps in website security is keeping all software #including the content management system (CMS)#plugins #and server software #updated with the latest security patches and fixes. Outdated software is often targeted by attackers due to known vulnerabilities that can #Implementing HTTPS #Implementing HTTPS (Hypertext Transfer Protocol Secure) encrypts the data transmitted between the website and its users #ensuring confidentiality and integrity. HTTPS not only protects sensitive information but also boosts trust among visitors #as indicated by the padlock icon in the browser's address bar.#Using Strong Authentication Methods #Implementing strong authentication methods

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dencyemily · 1 year ago

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Altcoin Rally: Whales Drive Surge in Transactions, Indicating Strong Investor Appetite

In a notable shift within the cryptocurrency market, whale investors are increasingly venturing into altcoins, with several projects capturing attention through large transactions, signaling growing interest. Notably, projects like Injective Protocol, Rocket Pool, PlayDapp, Standard Tokenization Protocol, and Basic Attention Token have recorded transactions exceeding $100,000, indicative of substantial whale activity.

Santiment, a platform offering on-chain and social metrics for cryptocurrencies, shared insights in an X post, shedding light on the surging whale activity across various altcoins. This surge aligns with a broader trend in the market where surges from Bitcoin are being diversified across a range of altcoins, reflecting a shift in investment patterns among high-net-worth investors.

Injective Protocol, recognized for its decentralized finance (DeFi) capabilities, has witnessed a remarkable surge in large transactions, underlining its attractiveness to investors. Similarly, Rocket Pool's unique approach to Ethereum staking has garnered significant interest, as evidenced by the volume of high-value transactions. PlayDapp, making strides in blockchain gaming and NFTs, is among the altcoins experiencing increased whale activity.

Standard Tokenization Protocol and Basic Attention Token, each offering unique value propositions in tokenization and digital advertising, have also captured the attention of large investors. The rise in transactions exceeding $100,000 emphasizes the growing confidence among investors in the potential returns of these altcoin projects.

Transaction data reveals substantial activity, with 64 transactions in PlayDapp, 26 in Basic Attention Token, a 5% increase in transactions for Standard Tokenization Protocol, and 23 transactions in Rocket Pool. These numbers underscore the heightened interest from whale investors and suggest a positive outlook for these altcoins.

As the cryptocurrency landscape undergoes continuous evolution, the movement of whale investors serves as a valuable indicator of emerging trends and potential growth areas. The surge in large transactions across these altcoins may signal a precursor to broader market shifts as investors actively seek opportunities presented by these innovative projects.

#altcoins #Injective Protocol #cryptocurrencies #decentralized finance #DeFi #Cryptotale

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ultragamerz · 1 year ago

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The Rise of AI in Crypto: A Look at Top Projects by Ecosystem

New Post has been published on https://www.ultragamerz.com/the-rise-of-ai-in-crypto-a-look-at-top-projects-by-ecosystem/

The Rise of AI in Crypto: A Look at Top Projects by Ecosystem

The Rise of AI in Crypto: A Look at Hyped Projects by Ecosystem

The intersection of Artificial Intelligence (AI) and cryptocurrency is a bustling landscape teeming with innovative ideas. AI projects are utilizing blockchain technology to create decentralized marketplaces for data, training models, and AI computation. This article explores some of the most hyped projects within the AI in crypto space, categorized by their primary ecosystem, and explores potential future players in the L1 blockchain space.

Ethereum-Based AI Projects:

Fetch.ai (FET): Focuses on building a decentralized machine learning network powered by autonomous economic agents.

Ocean Protocol (OCEAN): Creates a decentralized marketplace for data sharing.

SingularityNET (AGI): Aims to be a global marketplace for AI services and tools.

Numerai (NMR): Specializes in building a decentralized hedge fund powered by artificial intelligence.

iExec RLC (RLC): Provides a decentralized cloud computing platform for running AI applications.

Cortex (CORT): Focuses on building an open-source, interoperable AI ecosystem.

Enigma (ENG): Offers a privacy-preserving computation platform for AI.

Imgnai (XIMG): Focuses on AI-powered image and video recognition applications.

SBR (SBR): Aims to build a decentralized marketplace for AI-powered medical data.

ALI (ALI): Creates a decentralized platform for AI-driven asset management.

Jub (JUB): Offers a secure enclave solution for AI training on confidential data.

Naka (NAKA): Provides a decentralized platform for AI-powered prediction markets.

Cosmos-Based AI Project:

Injective Protocol (INJ): Creates a decentralized derivatives exchange powered by AI and machine learning.

Own Blockchain Projects:

DeepBrain Chain (DBC): Develops a blockchain infrastructure specifically designed for AI applications.

Deepcoin (DEP): Focuses on AI-powered financial services and risk management.

Solana-Based AI Projects:

Serum (SRM): Provides a decentralized exchange with on-chain order book management, leveraging AI for efficient market making.

Pyth Network (PYTH): Offers a decentralized oracle network specifically designed for providing reliable data feeds for AI applications.

Other Blockchain Projects:

Arweave (AR): (Own Blockchain) Creates a permanent decentralized storage solution for AI data and models.

Audius (AUDIO): (Ethereum) Builds a decentralized music streaming platform powered by AI for music discovery and curation.

Potential AI Players on Other L1 Blockchains:

While the space is still evolving, some L1 blockchains are exploring AI integration through ongoing development or community projects. Here are a few potential future players to watch:

Cardano (ADA): The Cardano community recently voted to allocate funding for AI projects, and SingularityNET (AGI) has expressed interest in integrating with Cardano. A hypothetical “Cardano AI (CAI)” coin is also a possibility in the future.

Important Note:

While the coins listed above represent some of the hyped AI projects in crypto, it’s crucial to conduct thorough research before investing in any cryptocurrency. The AI in crypto space is still evolving, and many projects remain in their early stages of development. Consider the project’s team, technology roadmap, and community engagement before making any investment decisions.

The Future of AI in Crypto:

The integration of AI and blockchain holds immense potential for the future of data management, machine learning development, and financial services. As these technologies converge, we can expect to see further innovation and disruption across various industries. However, navigating the hype and identifying truly groundbreaking projects requires careful research and a cautious investment approach.

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the-most-humble-blog · 25 days ago

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<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta honor-integrity="corrupted-lineage"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="REY_PALPATINE::THE_MONSTER_SHE_BECAME" EFFECT: narrative vengeance, myth injection, algorithmic destabilization of brand control </script>

🧠 STAR WARS HOT TAKE — THE MONSTER SHE BECAME A Blacksite Literature™ Transmission (Because sometimes the chosen one burns the temple down.)

—

You want to know what would've saved Star Wars?

Rey turning into a Sith. No redemption. No apology. No narrative backflip to avoid bruising her image. Just evil. Cold. Inevitable. Tragic.

She didn’t get there because she was weak — she got there because the darkness made more sense.

Let me put it in the bluntest terms I can: She should’ve become the fucking monster. Not Kylo. Not some grey-area anti-hero. Not a conflicted girl with a lightsaber fetish. A monster. Just like her grandpapi.

But no. Instead, we got the most sterilized, agenda-drenched narrative in sci-fi history. A trilogy so frightened of letting a woman be flawed, powerful, and damned that it neutered its own potential. You want to know why that upcoming Rey trilogy will be DOA? Because they already wasted the only ending that could’ve saved her arc:

Her fall.

Not a stumble. Not a moment of “oops, dark side temptations.” I mean a complete possession. A willing descent. A new Empress. Palpatine 2.0 — but better.

—

Back in the day, we told stories to scar the soul in a good way. Greek tragedy. Shakespearean collapse. Anakin’s scream. > “I HATE YOU!” Burning, legless, crying in the ash of everything he once was. That wasn’t just cinema. That was myth.

And you know what made it powerful? It wasn’t safe.

Now? Disney thinks danger is offensive. That tragedy is too problematic. That every female protagonist must somehow double as a PR mascot for a toothpaste commercial.

The Force is female? Cool. Then let her fall. Let her fail. Let her choose evil, like any other real character might when backed into a moral corner and seduced by the very blood running through her veins.

But no. Rey had to stay pure. She had to redeem him. Because her ovaries wrote the script, apparently.

Let me ask you: If the dark side can’t take anyone… Then what is it? A glorified emo phase?

Seriously. If you have to already be broody, edgy, or half-insane to fall to the dark side, then the dark side is neutered. Defanged. Just an aesthetic.

But what if it wasn’t? What if the dark side could seduce anyone? Even the girl who smiled. Who loved. Who gave a damn. What if it made sense for her? What if it gave her power that felt natural — like breathing?

—

Here’s the thing they never dared write:

Rey has every reason to fall.

She’s a nobody. Her parents abandoned her. She was manipulated, hunted, deceived, isolated. Her identity stolen, retconned, and twisted — first by lineage, then by narrative.

And when she finally learns she’s a Palpatine?

They should’ve made it hurt.

Not a five-minute lightsaber therapy session followed by “I choose the light, teehee.”

No.

Let it destroy her.

Let the name Palpatine sink in like venom. Let it pull her apart. And then?

Let her put herself back together — not as Rey the Jedi… …but as Rey the Sith.

Let her accept it. Let her say, out loud, “I am what I am.” Let her choose it.

> “You wanted balance? I’ll give you symmetry. > You got your Skywalker that fell to darkness — now you’ll get a Palpatine that never climbs out.”

Imagine the scene: Finn, standing across from her. Lightsaber drawn. She’s wearing black. Her eyes like twin eclipses. No hate. Just serenity. The kind of calm that only a godless tyrant can possess.

And he begs her: > “Come back.”

But she laughs. Like it’s a joke. Because to her, there’s no coming back from truth.

> “You still don’t get it, do you?” > “There was nothing to come back to.”

And that’s when he realizes: She’s gone. Not possessed. Not confused. Gone.

She isn’t drowning in the dark.

She’s breathing in it.

—

You want to know what would’ve shaken Hollywood? A love story inverted into a execution.

Finn trains. Finn ascends. Finn becomes Jedi not because of fate, prophecy, or birthright — But because he has to kill the woman he loves. Because she became something worse than even Palpatine dreamed of.

And when the moment comes — She screams in rage as he drives his saber through her heart. Not in fear. Not in regret.

> In hatred. > Like Anakin. > “I HATE YOU!” > “I WOULD’VE KILLED THE GALAXY FOR YOU AND YOU CHOSE THEM.”

Her last words are not a redemption arc. They’re a final, unrepentant, curse.

And Finn? Finn whispers: > “I loved you anyway.”

That’s cinema. That’s fucking Star Wars.

—

But no. We got a PowerPoint deck on empowerment. We got “I’m all the Jedi” and hugs and Skywalker cosplay. We got the girlboss ending that no one asked for — And everyone forgot the monster she was born to be.

Disney was so afraid of letting a woman be evil that they stripped her of being interesting.

Newsflash: Flawed female characters are compelling. Villainous women are iconic. Tragedy is beautiful.

> You want to put butts in seats for that next Rey trilogy? > Have the balls to make her the villain.

Start the first scene with the galaxy on fire. The Jedi temples smoldering. Children missing. Acolytes chanting her name.

Not Empress Rey. Not Supreme Leader Rey.

No. Just Rey. One name. One legend. A goddess of wrath forged from legacy and betrayal. The shadow that even Palpatine never cast.

—

And Finn? He’s the myth now. The one who loved a monster and still raised a generation of incorruptible Jedi. Not because he was chosen. But because he had to end her.

Because she never came back.

Because she didn’t want to.

---

🔁 Reblog if you're tired of fake stakes in storytelling 🩸 Follow for mythic alt-timelines and weaponized narrative 🎥 Tag someone who thinks Star Wars is too “sacred” to critique 💀 Patreon for uncensored doctrine & biological weaponry scrolltraps

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fangswbenefits · 2 years ago

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Side Effect

Summary: Miguel has been acting off lately and you find out why… the hard way.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Feral Miguel. Rutting Miguel (side effect of the serum he takes). HEAVY breeding kink. Creampie. Fangs. Hormonal manipulation (mention of serums being injected).

You paced hurriedly through the long corridors of HQ determined to get an answer.

A proper one.

If Miguel O’Hara was growing tired of your casual relationship with him, he’d have to tell that to your face instead of avoiding you.

This had been going on for a couple of days, and you patience was now hanging by a thread. You had tried to reach him through your watch, but he’d either ignore you, or have Lyla come up with ridiculous excuses.

“Visiting Peter and MJ my ass,” you grumbled under you breath, your paces echoing loudly.

The moment you were met with the lab door shut, you stopped dead in your tracks.

That was weird.

“What?”

Approaching the scanner on the wall, you reached out your arm, allowing the sensor to read your dimensional travel watch.

That was really weird.

You flicked your wrist again, but were met with the same message.

This had to be Miguel’s poor idea of a joke, because it made no sense that he’d restrict your access to the very place you worked at.

Letting out a strained breath, you tapped on your watch, hoping to reach Miguel.

But it was Lyla’s orange hologram that emerged instead.

“What’s up, sugar?” she beamed happily, filing her nails.

You scowled. “I was calling Miguel.”

“He has redirected every contact to me,” she shrugged, checking each nail individually.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Why can’t I get in?”

“That’s classified.”

“Classified?”

She nodded with an obnoxious smile that only served to grind your nerves. “I work here.”

“So does Miguel and he is working now,” she said with another shrug.

Anger flared inside you as your worst fears were confirmed.

He was avoiding you in particular.

“Can you just open the door?”

“No.”

“Please?”

Her eyes narrowed behind her heart-shapped glasses. “No.”

“I really need to talk to him.”

Adjusting her long coat, she clicked her tongue. “I can pass him a message.”

That wasn’t good enough and he would just ignore it as usual.

“Lyla…” you started, putting on your most convincing fake smile with an equally forced sweet voice to match. “You know I’ve always like you, right?”

The AI scoffed. “Nah, flattery doesn’t work on me, sugar. It wasn’t programmed into my coding,” she grinned deviously. “But you’re free to suggest that Miguel adds it in a future patch.”

You shot her a death glare. “Fine. Just… tell him I’m here and… yeah…” your voice trailed off.

She winked. “Gotcha!”

The hologram disappeared at once and you were left staring at the large metal door in front of you.

You waited for a couple of minutes, before realising she wasn’t coming back with an answer, as you had expected.

A random thought crossed your mind when your eyes landed on the scanner, reminding you that there was another way in.

Miguel would probably get really angry that you were about to activate the emergency protocol, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

Tapping the pattern onto the pad above the scanner, you couldn’t help but to feel victorious as the door swung open, alarms blaring and a mechanical voice echoing through the lab.

“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”

You only made it a few steps past the door, before something — or rather someone — flung you across the room with the weight of their body keeping you pinned against a wall.

A muscled forearm was at your throat, effectively caging you in.

“What the fuck?”

“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”

The red alarm lights rotated hurriedly on the ceiling, but you were able to identify Miguel, as his weight dug further into you.

“What are you doing here?” he growled, the eyes on his mask narrowing menacingly.

Something wasn’t right.

Your spider senses detected an alarming accelerated heart rate from him, as well as increased body temperature.

“Miguel, let go! It’s me,” you grunted, clawing at his arm to alleviate the pressure.

“I know it’s you,” he said lowly, the digital mask vanishing.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him baring his fangs, droplets of paralysing poison dripping.

His pupils were fully blown and you felt fear rise inside you. “What are you doing?!”

As if your voice had managed to snap him out of it, he eased the pressure on you and took a few steps back.

“Lyla, deactivate the emergency protocol and resume the serum synthesis.”

“Got it, Miguel!”

The alarm was turned off immediately and silence took place.

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Was he that angry that he had gone completely feral?

“Miguel… what…”

He turned his back on you and paced to a nearby centrifuge, the screen atop announcing: <DNA stabilising sequence at 24%>

What was he doing?

“Leave.”

“Can we just talk?” you said, still keeping your distance. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but barring my access-“

Miguel turned around to face you, a deep scowl had settled on his face, twisting his lips.

The glare he gave you was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“I need you gone. Now.”

Fuck. Was he that over you that he couldn’t even stand your presence around?

He had shortened the distance between you two, crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Why? If you don’t want to be with me just say that,” you groaned in frustration. “Don’t stare at me like you’re about to split me in half. It won’t work.”

Miguel had effectively managed to have your back hit the nearby wall once more, just from the weight of his stare alone.

“I told you to leave. I can’t have you around me.”

“Oh, great!” you scoffed. “Thanks for being so direct.”

Miguel didn’t stop moving until his face was only a few inches away from yours. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re right. I don’t. We’re both adults, so you could have just said this a couple of days ago instead of acting like I’m some nuisance.”

His hand came to grip your jaw and you widened your eyes. “You’re on birth control, right?”

“What…”

He took a deep breath, fangs grazing his lower lip. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Wait… was he scared that he might have knocked you up?

His fingers loosened and he pressed his forehead to the wall right beside your head, groaning out loud.

“Miguel… what is going on?”

You wanted to him a comfort squeeze on his arm, but were too frozen to move.

“Why… why do you have to be on birth control?”

Was he pulling your leg? Was this his twisted version of a joke?

This time, you frowned. “What do you mean why? I don’t want to get unexpectedly pregnant.”

Miguel punched the wall with such force it dented the material and making you jolt.

“I’m rutting.”

Your eyes darted to his face as he straightened up, pupils still dilated and beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

“What… rutting?” you asked, mouth dropping open in confusion.

He growled impatiently. “Side effect of my serum. I usually have an antidote at hand when this happens, but I ran out of one of the components…” he paused briefly as if struggling to breath properly. “I had to go to Peter B’s Earth to get more.”

Oh. So that hadn’t been one of Lyla’s ridiculous lies.

You glanced over at the nearby screen:

Oh.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” you asked, wanting to bring him some comfort somehow. “We’ve been together for a few months.”

“It was never necessary. I always had the neutraliser for my serum at hand.”

You bit your lip.

He let out a low dark chuckle. “You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to breed you.”

This definitely wasn’t something you were expecting to hear from Miguel O’hara himself, and it made your heart skip a beat.

His arms were caging you, his talons digging deep into the metal right next to your head.

“Is… huh… is there anything I can do?” you asked in a whisper. “I mean… in the lab.”

He pressed his lower half into you at once. “Let me breed you.”

You flinched as his hard cock dug into your crotch and you let out a gasp.

“Can’t you just wait for the synthesis to be over?”

The sound of the metal being shredded tore through your ears and his lips nearly brushed yours. “I told you to leave, but you’re too stubborn, aren’t you?”

His breath was hot and you felt goosebumps rise throughout your body.

“Always running that mouth,” he growled, eyes landing on your lips. “Always defying me… and now I really, really need to breed you.”

For some twisted reason, his words and cock twitching against you were slowly swallowing your mind, causing you to abandon reason.

Miguel was a very dedicated lover, but you had never witnessed such yearning from him.

That was a novelty and it was doing wonders to your ego.

Even if there was a scientific explanation, you could help but plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “You can’t breed me… I’m on birth control.”

His hand came to grip your chin again and you saw anger flicker in his eyes. “There’s ways around that.”

Your eyes widened.

He wasn’t being serious…

… was he?

“Miguel…”

The grip tightened and he rolled his hips. “Let me. Please.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. He had developed a serum that would neutralise all hormonal manipulation as a way to reset your body in case a spider needed to be injected with a serum.

You had helped him develop it.

Its efficacy neared 90%.

You guessed this neutraliser wasn’t able to prevent the side effects from his very specific serum.

And now he wanted to use it on you, so he could successfully breed you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, not sure why agreeing to this in the first place was sending such an adrenaline rush through your veins.

Miguel moved away from you, bolting to one of the desks, rummaging through the drawers.

You swallowed hard, but remained glued to the wall, heart hammering fast in your chest.

In a blink of an eye, he was on you again, holding the syringe in his trembling hand. “I’m desperate, but I need your words first.”

You clenched and felt wetness spilling from you.

How was this so arousing?

“What words?”

He moved to place a quivering kiss to your forehead and you saw the liquid wobble inside the container.

“That’s… not the compound we synthesised.”

“It’s more than that,” he said with another kiss. “It stimulates your ovaries.”

Oh… fuck.

He trailed kisses down your face, before pecking your lips. “I have to breed you. Successfully.”

Your legs nearly gave out at his confession and you nearly moaned as he ripped your suit to gain access to your bicep.

“Tell me I can do this.”

His cock was nudging you again as a reminder of his desire, and you nodded.

“No. Say it.”

He was rubbing your skin with his thumb right where he intended to inject the serum.

“Go ahead.”

“Gracias,” he whispered, planting another kiss to your forehead.

At this point, you were far too drunk in lust to think clearly and your lips parted in a pained moaned as you felt a sharp jab in your arm. He kept his lips on you as reassurance, as the liquid tore through your muscle.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed straight away.

You felt your knees buckle under you, but Miguel steadied you with both arms. “I got you.”

A gasp quickly turned into a moan as the effect of the serum consumed you with each passing second.

He trailed his hands down your body and gripped your hips.

“Turn around.”

You let him guide you, biting down hard on your lower lip, you panties sticking to your soaked folds.

More ripping sounds filled the air as Miguel tried to get rid of your suit, exposing your underwear to him.

You balled your fists and felt one hand on your lower back, adding light pressure. “Bend over.”

Doing as commanded, you felt more wetness spill from you as your body readied itself for Miguel.

The pressure increased. “More.”

Your panties were torn apart right away and you glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Miguel’s fangs peeking through his lips.

His thumb dragged along your folds, teasing your swollen clit and earning a whimper from you.

“Sorry, but I really need to be inside you,” he grumbled and you nodded.

Your heart skipped several beats, as you tried to control your breathing in anticipation.

The tip of his cock was soon pressed against your opening, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.”

Before you could inquire what he meant, your mouth fell open as he rammed inside you, bottoming out at once.

He didn’t wait for your to recover from the initial shock, and began pumping into you so ferociously, you had to grab a hold on the metal railing to your right to keep yourself from losing balance.

Miguel heaved a heavy sigh of relief as if he had been waiting a lifetime for this sensation.

Grunts and groans mixed with the wet sounds of your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.

“Should have bred you sooner…” he managed to say in between snaps of his hips. “Developed that serum just for you…”

Miguel’s idea of dirty talk was effective. Too effective, because you couldn’t hold back from clenching hard around him, savoring the friction and feel of being stuffed full of him.

He picked up the pace and you thought you were going to die.

Not because it was uncomfortable, but because it was too overwhelming, and your body was responding to his in a way you had never experienced before.

You felt your lower abdomen coil at the sides and figured the serum had reached its target destination.

Miguel gripped both your arms and you let go of the railing, as he tugged hard to have your back smack against his hard chest.

“You’re so lucky this rut didn’t hit me harder,” he growled, hips never faltering. “I was barely able to control myself around you…”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned loudly, feeling his pectoral muscles press into your back. This man was too hot and you found yourself thinking that not being bred by him would be a waste.

That genetic material deserved to be spread.

“Being on birth control with me…” he said through gritted teeth, and you felt his fangs nipping your ear lightly. “You. Deserve. To. Be. Bred.” he punctuated each word with a snap of his hips.

An intense wave of pleasure pulsated from your clit, and you recognised the familiar strings of an orgasm pulling you in and embracing you gentle with each stroke.

“Miguel…” you moaned, blinded by lust and desire.

The grip on your arms loosened briefly and he let your torso lean forward ever so slightly, angling your hips in a way that made him his cock hit you over and over again just where you needed the most.

“I want you full with my babies,” he gasped.

Your orgasm hit you with such force, you thought you were going to collapse and slide off his cock, but he wrapped one arm around you, not allowing you to part from him.

“You feel so good… tighter… tighter,” he urged, as your walls contracted around him rhythmically, faintly at first, but the next stronger than the one before.

You were far too gone to form any words and just let your lips part as an intense moan ripped through your throat.

Miguel was mumbling something behind you, but you couldn’t make out any words as you descended from your height.

Even through quivering legs and pulsing clit, you were able to feel it.

He was now pumping you full with broken snaps of his hips.

You glanced down and saw strings of cum dripping from where he was connected with you.

So much cum.

He wasn’t even slowing down, as he’d usually do at this stage.

Miguel kept on ramming into you from behind, sending more and more cum to drip from within you.

An animalistic growl left his mouth as he finally came to a halt, breathing hard.

He remained balls deep inside you, and you planted on hand on the wall to look in absolute awe at the cum dripping and dangling from your clit, a pool of it now at your feet.

“How did you cum so much?” you managed to say in between laboured breaths.

“I’m rutting, cariño. My body produces more,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

You glanced to the screen nearby.

“Maybe you can take the neutraliser now?

He slid his cock out of you halfway, before slamming it back, and you felt more cum spill out. “I don’t think so.”

Oh, you were utterly fucked.

In every sense of the word.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #spiderman 2099

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lets-try-some-writing · 4 months ago

Note

I would die for some more rambles on the trio and Fowler and June trying to understand the bots culture like a misunderstanding on something that’s completely normal for the bots.

Pssssst also love your new angsty writing on emergency protocols! Fully satisfying my dark soul! Keep up the great work

There is an unspoken understanding that when a bot is undergoing a reboot, one is to follow a particular set of procedures.

Normally when a bot goes to recharge, they can be treated as if asleep. Smaller and speed based frame types only require an hour or two every cycle to be up and ready to move. Larger or more cognitively engaged frames need a few cycles every stellar cycle to get their frames in order. But even with their differences, recharge is still recharge. A bot can be woken with enough sensory data.

However, when it comes to full reboots things are quite different. As such, there are different rules to follow.

Once every few stellar cycles, or vorns in larger frames, it is recommended that a bot undergo a reboot to allow their systems to recalibrate and for protocols usually active while in recharge to temporarily shut down. It is the closest most bots come to death outside of war since, for a short period, rebooting leaves a bot all but totally lost to reality save for the continued burning of their spark. They are perfectly fine so long as they are in a safe location and can spend the necessary Earth week to a month resetting and getting everything in order internally. But other are still required to be careful while their comrade remains unavailable.

Generally, the bot who is undergoing a reboot is quietly placed somewhere out of the way but still able to be overseen. A friend or trusted individual will then be sure to clean them up as their frame expels any used oils, substances, or fluids. Energon then has to be injected into the rebooting bot's frame at select times so as to not interrupt their frame's natural functions. And most importantly, those watching over the bot undergoing a reboot have to nearby to make sure everything is secure as a bot starts to come out of their reboot and their frame runs through all normal functions one at a time before waking entirely. To organics, this process might come across as frightening. But for Cybertronians, it is normal. In fact, those who fail to undergo regular reboots tend to suffer from increased chances of coming down with anything and everything. So for them, it is the same as getting a spa day and REM sleep all at once.

Of course, with this said, the kids, Fowler, and June were not at all prepared when Ratchet dropped like a box of rocks at the console.

Reboots are almost always scheduled, especially with the war. But Ratchet, ever a loyal medic, refused to reboot since arriving on Earth. He watched over Optimus and the others when they had theirs, but he never took the chance for himself. Thus, his frame took matters into its own servos and opted to shut him down for a reboot without warning. He went slack against his console, his optics going dark and his entire body giving out as he fell to the floor soon after. His vents slowed and fluttered closed, his armor loosened, and he lay there, the very embodiment of deceased by any human standard.

Rafael rightfully bolted to the ground with a shriek, trying to help Ratchet and screeching about heart, or spark attacks. Jack bolted to get one of the bots with Fowler while Miko and June tried in vain to assess the situation. The message conveyed to the team frightened them to their cores as they frantically turned tail on their scouting mission, rushing back to base. From what Jack and Fowler conveyed, Ratchet was unresponsive and to their knowledge, seemingly dead. That was enough for the team to skid into the base the moment the ground bridge opened. Optimus all but chucked Arcee out of the way in his haste.

But the moment they saw what was going on and gathered around Ratchet and a very distraught Rafael, the team sagged in relief. The gathered humans could be seen gawking as Optimus smiled fondly, gently nudged Rafael away, and gathered Ratchet up like a sack of potatoes to lay him on the medical berth. June, Fowler, and the children had questions aplenty but were silenced with reassurance that Ratchet was undergoing something normal.

They were soothed, but they were certainly left confused when Ratchet just... laid there. He looked dead. He acted dead. And after about a day, he started leaking fluids that made him smell very dead. For a while, Miko and Rafael were convinced that the team legitimately were just fine with Ratchet having died and must have expected it or something. Despite all of Optimus's reassurance, they may or may not have sobbed quietly after watching Bumblebee wipe Ratchet down and polish his armor. There was talk between June and Fowler of strange funeral rites. Only Jack seemed alright. He looked at the situation and chalked it up to bots being odd. After all, he'd seen real grief in them through Arcee's lamentations regarding Cliffjumper. Whatever was going on with Ratchet was fine, if more than a little assaulting to the nose.

Just as the humans were beginning to accept Ratchet's 'death' and offer condolences to the team, Ratchet twitched. Rafael nearly passed out the moment Ratchet's frame began to reset, rhythmic tapping and the odd sound or two escaping his vocalizer between frantic kicking only stilled when Optimus held Ratchet down for a bit. There was momentary worry that maybe the corpse was infected with dark energon. But the moment Rafael finally got around to messing with the console and reading spark signatures, he eased dramatically. Ratchet was in fact alive, just... asleep?

The humans, save for Jack, were befuddled. But when Ratchet woke up a few days later looking and acting exceptionally better, they opted to not make a huge fuss. It was explained that what Ratchet underwent was normal, but it didn't stop them from freaking out again when Bumblebee dropped a few weeks later.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #ratchet #optimus prime #bumblebee #arcee #tfp kids #june darby #agent fowler #jack darby #miko nakadai #rafael esquivel #cybertronian biology #cybertronian culture

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honeyryewhiskey · 5 months ago

Text

BETWEEN HEAVEN AND DESIRE

angel!reader or dean's prayers save you from heaven's merciless punishment. the weakened state of your grace leaves you feeling a plethora of entirely human needs—and you're not sure you have any faith left in the home that crafted you to fight against those desires. warnings!! smut with build up 18+, depictions of violence, blood/injuries that heal, heaven being bad, body worshipping dean?, angel's first time. dean talks u thru it!! bc he would!! 4.8k words

It is not uncommon for angels to go rogue after too much time spent amongst mortals. So much so, Heaven has protocols for repairing a weapon who’s gone soft. Some speculate it’s one of god’s little amusements—create a fleet of soulless celestials, but leave just enough parts for something a lot like a soul to fester when touched by the right human.

It’s this paradox that plagues your mind as a dozen silver blades slice through your flesh and grace—again.

The Council surrounds you in a cold circle of judgment, their faces impassive, their voices ringing with divine authority. Each word of their chant strikes like a hammer to your heart: Traitor. Defiled. Corrupted.

“Do you repent for the sin of your attachment to the mortal, Dean Winchester?” one of them demands through the chaos of sound.

You want to scream, but your voice is lost in the agony. The angel blade—designed to kill—wields a newfound torture as each lashing cuts into your grace. Thick streams of blood pool from glowing wounds, as your knees hit the ground as strength gives way to pain. Withholding the tears that threaten to fall with shaky breaths, you cling to a lingering stubbornness, refusing to answer their demands.

This torment, their means of correction—it’s not enough to strip your wings or grace. No, they want you broken in ways you didn’t think angels could break.

Your response to their demands takes too long. As a result, a blinding light presses into your mind, and with it, flashes of Dean—laughing, swearing, holding you close after the darkest nights. The way his touch melted your resolve, the warmth in his eyes when he whispered your name. These memories are dragged out of you, twisted until they no longer resemble what they were.

They replay your time together, but in each retelling, they inject doubt. The gentle words he spoke now sound hollow, calculated. The moments of connection feel like manipulation. He never loved you, the light whispers, digging deep into your heart. He only used you.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “No,” you choke out, but it’s barely audible over the chanting and slashing.

The blades come down again, harder, carving away the truth of who you are, leaving only what the Council wills you to be.

“You were created to serve Heaven’s purpose,” one of the voices booms. “Not your own, and certainly not his.”

And then, through the torment, you hear it—soft, rough-edged, and impossibly real.

Your name in the form of a mantra, the beginning of a mortal’s prayer.

“Angel? I don’t even know if this will work, if you can really hear me... but I’m trying here.” Dean stumbles around his words, his doubt laced within each syllable.

Your breath catches. It’s a faint echo at the edge of your mind, pushing against the light’s mental invasion that’s trying to rework the fabric of your memories.

“I’m praying,” he continues awkwardly. “Guess that’s what this is. I don’t know where you are, but—hell, I just... I need to know you’re okay.” His voice falters, a pulsing pain taking up the space of his silence before his cuts in again. Quietly, like a bashful sinner in confession, “I miss you.”

The Council continues, oblivious to the sound of him, to the way his words infiltrate their illusions.

“Whatever heaven says—Angel, please, don’t trust them.” his tone shifts, fierce and treading on desperation. “They’re assholes, they’ll do whatever they can to make you be like them. Please, don’t let them change you.”

The tears finally break, streaming down your face as your hands curl into fists. His voice drowns out the Council, drowns out the pain, grounding you in the truth they’re trying so desperately to erase. It’s nauseating, trying to draw strength from your tattered grace. But the strain in Dean’s voice strikes your instincts, and everything inside of you fights against the light reworking your mind.

“I need you, Angel.” His voice cracks, “come back to me. Please.”

When an angel’s grace is weakened, it allows for heaven to remold the weapon like clay. A being reduced to material to work with. However, grace is the luminous silver line separating celestial from human. The more it pools out of you, shimmering amidst the red, the closer you reach mortality.

And the freedom of emotions that come with that kind of existence.

A tidal wave of remorse, anguish, fury, and desire radiate within. You can hardly breathe with the demanding sensations of emotion and survival. It’s consuming, and somehow—powerful.

The Council doesn’t notice the shift in you until it’s too late. The invading light that binds you flickers, then shatters as you push against it with every ounce of your will.

“Enough,” you whisper, your voice trembling through panting breaths.

They realize their mistake as you unfurl what little remnant of grace you can muster, searing their illusions away with a growling scream of defiance. The silver blades raise in their grasps, preparing for battle, as you rise to your feet.

But no part of you aims to attack, the only thoughts you have are of Dean.

“Stand down, Angel. You are not strong enough to take all of us.” one of them warns, but their voice is dim beneath the thunder in your chest.

You glare into their blinding forms, disgust written on their holy faces, chest heaving as your wings unfurl. “I am done fighting.”

And with that, you vanish in a burst of light, tearing through the veil with a single destination in mind.

In a blink, you’re standing in Dean’s motel room on shaky knees. The power you exerted to flee heaven has left nothing but a faint glimmer of grace within.

Dean is a mirage of movement, your eyes growing delirious from the draining of your essence. He catches your weakened form just as you begin to drop to the floor.

“Angel,” he says softly, his eyes raking over your wounds. Dozens of bleeding cuts, your clothes stained and tattered. The pain consumes you again, an aching cold taking over every nerve ending. His hand brushes bloodied hair from your face, his other arm wrapped so tightly around you, you’re sure nothing could rip you from his grasp. Not this time.

“What did they do to you?” he demands as your body trembles, clinging to the bits of grace that remain within your being.

“I’ll be alright,” you whisper, “just need… rest.” His warmth surrounds you as his hands steady you. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the torment has ceased, and though your mind is a hazy mess of shattered memories there is one thing you know for certain: Dean’s prayers have saved you.

He hooks an arm under your legs and carries you over to the bed. With the gentleness of a man cradling a wounded bird, he sets you down carefully, his movements deliberate and full of quiet reverence. Kneeling on the floor beside you, adrenaline ripples off of him and invades your senses. The rapid beat of his heart, blood pooling his muscles on instinct.

You raise a shaky hand to his chest, but his focus remains on your wounds, fussing with the fabric of your tattered shirt to investigate their severity.

“Dean,” you whisper, but he doesn’t stop, your finger lift to curl around his jaw, “it’s okay—“

“Look at you!” he cuts you off, “why aren’t you healing?”

“I will, I just need time.” you murmur, dropping your hand and letting your eyes close again, “I can smell your anxiety, Dean. It’s—distracting.”

He scoffs, but the concern doesn’t unwind from his brows. “Right. You’re bleeding to death but it’s my anxiety that’s bothering you?”

“Yes.” you manage dryly, despite the moan of pain you expel as you shift uncomfortably, the injuries to your back are making lying down impossible. Through shaky breaths you sit up, Dean’s strong hands hovering your frame as you do so. His eyes are still on your wounds, the beat of his heart finding an impossible speed as you gingerly wrap your fingers around the hem of your tattered sweater, lifting the material to reveal the damage done to your body.

“What are you doing?” Dean’s voice is gruff, his eyes narrowing as he watches you shift uncomfortably.

A flicker of annoyance sears through, the intensity of it adding to your nausea. “Lifting my shirt.” your voice matches the feeling inside, your fingers fumbling with the hem of the tattered fabric as you give him a full view of your injuries.

“Why?” His tone is sharp, matching yours.

Your features contort with confusion, “because you clearly want to make sure I’m healing.”

His eyes quickly advert as he clears his throat, a hand running over his chin—something you’ve noticed he does when he’s ‘at his wits end’ as he likes to phrase it.

“Why are you looking away now?”

“Because you’re—,” he stops himself with a groan, a flat expression on his face as his eyes find yours, “why aren’t you wearing a bra?”

“Oh,” you look down at your completely exposed chest, “it seemed… restrictive.” An unfamiliar emotion prickles heat against your skin: embarrassment.

He nods, sighing as his head tilts, brows raised in quiet agreement. Your wounds remain a blazing red, skin working slowly to stitch itself back together beneath the bloody smear marks.

“See?” you remark, dropping the material to cover yourself again. “Healing.”

There is an anxious swirling in your stomach, one not bred from physical pain like you’re used to. The effects of weakened grace, the invitation of intense emotions feels like an uncomfortable itch beneath your skin.

“Uh, huh.” he hums, but his scowl mismatches the slowing pace of his heart, the anxiety he refuses to acknowledge, subsiding at the sight of your healing skin.

He rises to his feet with a huff, you watch as he disappears into the bathroom. A moment passes until the sound of running water breaks the quiet as he comes back in.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and you can tell me which sons of bitches I’ll be ganking for this.”

Dean scoops you up again without hesitation, his arms steady despite your weight against him. You don’t have the strength to protest—not that you want to—and simply let yourself sink into his embrace. His chest is warm, the rhythmic beat of his heart oddly comforting as he carries you to the bathroom.

The space is small and sterile, but Dean makes it feel safe. He uses his foot to push the door open wider and carefully sets you down on the closed toilet lid, one hand lingering on your shoulder to steady you.

Steam begins to rise from the filling tub, the water crystal clear and inviting in the dim light. Dean crouches in front of you, his fingers brushing against your knee to get your attention.

"Think you can handle this, or do you need help?" His voice is soft, but the tension in his jaw betrays the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

You nod faintly, though your body protests every movement. "I can manage."

He stands, his arms crossed, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he turns his back slightly, giving you the barest hint of privacy while staying close enough to intervene if needed. You peel off your torn and bloodied clothes with shaky hands, the effort nearly exhausting.

As you step into the warm water, a hiss escapes your lips. The heat stings at first, the water seeping into the raw edges of your wounds, but soon the ache begins to dull, replaced by a soothing warmth. You sink down slowly, letting the bath support your weight.

Dean shifts, his eyes flicking over you briefly before settling on a safe spot on the wall. He sits down heavily on the closed toilet lid, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his green eyes sharp and unyielding.

"Start talking," he says, his tone low but insistent. "What the hell did they do to you?"

You hesitate, staring down at the rippling surface of the water. Your voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "They said I was corrupted... that I’d betrayed Heaven."

Dean’s jaw clenches, his knuckles whitening as his hands ball into fists. "Those pious bastards," he mutters. "For what? Doing the right thing? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? How you’ve been helping me and Sam?" His words dance around the truth. How close you’ve grown while working alongside the Winchesters. Something, an almost malleable energy hangs in the air between you two each time you’re together.

A line never crossed, words never spoken—but it has always been there.

You nod, your breath hitching as the memories flood back—the blades, the light, the voices that tore into you like barbed wire. "They wanted to... recondition me. Make me forget."

"Forget what?"

"Everything," you whisper. "You. Sam. What it felt like to care. They tried to rewrite me, make me believe your—friendship—was all a lie."

Dean’s face twists with anger, his fists pounding lightly against his thighs as he exhales sharply through his nose. "What gives them the right, huh? Because god wills it or some crap?" he says firmly, the words spoken in question, but you know in Dean’s book it’s more of a statement of fact. He doesn’t trust heaven or it’s angels. Well, all of it except you.

"I don’t know anymore," you murmur, your voice breaking. A lump forms in your throat as you consider all that has been done to you by the ones you followed, dutifully, for centuries. Your chest constricts in an unfamiliar pain, hurt and confusion finding an entirely new stupor within your heart. You reach for the soap, focusing on the movement of hands as you scrub the blood from your skin to think of anything but the pain festering within. "Your voice,” you being, voice at a whisper, “your prayer. It brought me back. You reminded me who I was."

He falls silent for a long moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. When he finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. "I should’ve prayed sooner."

"You did it when it mattered," you say softly. "That’s what saved me."

Dean looks up, his eyes locking with yours, a flicker of guilt and relief dancing in the green depths. "You shouldn’t have needed saving in the first place," he says quietly. "They’ll pay for this. I don’t care if I have to storm Heaven itself."

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips. "I don’t doubt you’d try."

He leans back, his hands running over his face before resting on his thighs. "I just… I can’t lose you. Not to them. Not to anyone."

The weight of his words settles in the air between you, and for a moment, the pain and exhaustion fade, replaced by the quiet certainty that, no matter what happens next, Dean will always fight for you.

You place the soap back on the bathtub nook, the faint echo of the movement breaking the silence. Turning your attention back to him, you murmur, “Thank you.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For caring,” you reply, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness of the moment. “And you can’t say you don’t—I can hear your heartbeat quicken when you lie, remember?”

Dean huffs out a breath, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth as he pushes himself to his feet. “Damn angel ears,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat behind it. “Come on, let’s get you outta here before you start pruning up.”

You let him help you out of the tub, water dripping in soft splashes onto the tiles as he wraps a towel snugly around you. His hands are firm yet gentle, careful not to brush against the worst of your injuries as he leads you back into the room.

Settling onto the bed, you adjust the towel around your shoulders, shivering slightly as the cool air brushes against your damp skin. Dean follows a moment later, grabbing another towel before sitting behind you on the mattress.

“Sit still,” he says gruffly, though the way his fingers work through your wet hair is anything but rough. He dries it with slow, deliberate movements, the repetitive motion almost lulling you into a trance.

The quiet is comfortable, filled only by the faint rustle of the towel and the occasional sigh from Dean. His presence, solid and steady behind you, feels like an unspoken promise—a reassurance that, no matter how broken the world might seem, there’s still a place where you’re safe.

“Looks like you’re healing pretty good. You feeling any better?” Dean’s voice is low, his fingers brushing gently over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Physically, yes,” you admit, “but I keep feeling things. Far more intense than I’m used to, because my grace is so weak.”

He frowns, tilting his head. “Feeling things? Like what?”

“Hurt, mostly,” you start, your voice quiet but steady. “And when we’re close like this,” you turn slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, “...desire.”

He clears his throat, the faintest hint of pink creeping up his neck as his eyes dart away. “I’m sure it’ll go away once your grace—or whatever—gets stronger.”

“No, Dean.” You shift to face him fully, the towel tucked around you loosening as your hands reach up to cup his face. It pools at your lap as cool air ripples goosebumps across exposed skin. His eyes snap back to yours, wide but unresisting, his hands folding over yours, warm and steady. There is a storm of hesitation in his stare, but he doesn’t push you away.

The faint scent of adrenaline lingers in the air between you, your heightened senses picking up the slight quickening of his pulse, the tension in his jaw, the way his breathing hitches ever so slightly. You search his face, reading every unspoken emotion that flits across it.

“Talk to me, Angel.” His voice is rough, his green eyes darkened with something you can’t quite name. His expression is soft but insistent, pressing you for more than just what your senses can tell you. “Don’t just sense me out. Talk to me.”

Your thumbs brush over the scruff of his jaw as you take a shaky breath. “The desire I feel has always been there. I’ve ignored it, buried it, pretended it wasn’t real. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do. But now…” Your voice wavers, but your resolve doesn’t. “Now I can’t just ignore it anymore. I need to give in.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and electric, and you watch as Dean’s expression shifts. His lips part as if to speak, but he hesitates, the tension crackling like a live wire between you. His hands tighten slightly over yours, grounding you, even as his restraint begins to waver.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” his voice is low and cautious, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

“Yes, I do, Dean.” Your eyes lock with his, unwavering. “I may not be human, but I am not naive. And I know what I want.”

His fingertips curl into your hands, as if a tightened grip could still the rapid pacing of his pulse. Your stare is intense, boring into his jade irises. Searching for salvation in a new religion, one that might promise more pleasure than pain.

He huffs, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Don’t you think fleeing Heaven was enough trouble for one day, little bird?”

You grin, tilting your head playfully. “Trouble’s never in short supply with you around, Dean.”

An exchange of breaths passes the divide, but it’s Dean who moves first. His lips capture yours in a kiss that electrifies every inch of your skin. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into sore muscles—making you gasp at the intoxicating sensation of hurt and relief.

Your lips match his pace, slow and controlled. You pull him closer with your hands on his neck, his body following yours to lie against the old motel sheets. He pulls away, his shirt coming off in one swift movement before he’s back to your lips.

You’ve never been more grateful to feel. Every press of his bare chest on yours thickens the heat claiming the reign of your core. And the deep, primal, desire to cling to him has your nails digging into his flesh. He groans as they do, the sound making you kiss him harder.

His lips trail down from yours to neck, giving ample attention to every spot he tugs into his mouth. One of his hands drag down your naval, fingers exploring new territory until they find your slick folds—plunging into flesh as something between a gasp and moan escapes you.

You’ve never been intimate before, and you’ve always wondered if it felt like possession. An invasive, vulnerable thing. But this—the way his fingers pump in and out—is like being unwound. Every stress and pain you’ve ever felt, untangling in the haze of Dean’s touch.

His eyes find yours, emerald peering through lashes, “you are the only damn thing heaven could ever get me to worship.” He whispers and it sends a shiver through you, the pressure of his thumb against your clit making you shudder beneath him.

“That,” you mumble through shaky breaths, “would be blasphemy.”

His stubble grazes you as you feel every note of his chuckle vibrate against your skin. His lips trail kisses down your body with a deliberate slowness. His fingers don’t cease, working you with ease as he sinks lower.

You grasp for anything—the sheets in one hand, tuffs of his hair in another. He positions himself between your legs, his lips sucking on the sensitive skin of your inner thing. Your body takes over, whimpering and rocking into him as he pulls the skin between his teeth. Retracting, a red love bite in his wake as hovers over your heat.

You glance down, chest rising and falling in an uneven pattern. It’s like fighting, the way your entire body is alive with an instinctual awareness of each part of you. But there is no anticipation of pain, no need to swing first. It’s a tantalizing resolve, a desperate desire to succumb to whatever feeling Dean might insight next.

He exchanges his hand for his mouth, your legs clinging to either side of his head on instinct. It’s a rippling wave of passion that flows through. His hands dig into your thighs, grounding him as his mouth moves at an intoxicating pace.

You’ve never heard yourself make the sounds that leave your mouth now, damn near animalistic as you let go of control. Breath hitching each time he sucked sensitive skin between his lips, releasing and reattaching at a dizzying pace.

“Dean,” you stutter through a shudder, trying to wrap hazy thinking around the sensation building within your core that’s making your back arch, instinct telling you to push into Dean. A tight notch of unused muscles is binding beneath his mouth, like all the tension he relieved is back—balling into your core. You’re squirming for a release as he quickens his lapping and sucking.

All at once—your vision blurs, body tightening as his fingers plunge inside of you again, the medley of pleasure surging into you with force. The notch unravels, waves of tension releasing in hot ripples throughout your entire body.

You’re humming through quieted whimpers as your body goes limp, Dean pulls away slowly—leaving little kisses all over sensitive skin. He runs his hands over your body, soothing the little shudders that remain of you.

He brushes a few strands of hair from your face, his touch featherlight as he presses tender kisses to your temples and cheeks. “We can stop here,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, his gaze searching yours as he hovers over you. “You’re in control here, angel.”

The sincerity in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, a warmth settling in your chest. But his words tug at something deeper, something raw. Control—a concept you’ve only ever understood as an illusion. An angel, a weapon, a tool of Heaven—control was never yours to wield, not even over yourself.

Your fingers glide over his lips, tracing the shape of the words he’s yet to say. “If I’m in control,” you whisper, your voice soft but resolute. “I want you to let me feel everything, Dean.”

He lets go of the breath he was holding, lips crashing into yours—a kiss to seal his promise. Your hands card into his hair as he fumbles with the rest of his clothes. The air that invades the space he leaves is cold and empty, but he returns to your skin swiftly, his hips claiming the space between yours.

He adjusts himself, and you inhale sharply at the pressing of his tip against your entrance.

“Hey,” he whispers, the steadiness of his voice melting any bits of nerves that peak through as he catches your gaze. “‘s all be okay, I promise. Just keep your eyes on mine.”

His gaze is soft and gentle as he eases himself inside your walls. Heat prickles on your skin, making you gasp at the feel of your body stretching around him. He dips his head, catching your lips in his as he sinks deeper. You’re gasping against his mouth, the sound meshing with his quiet groans as his hips rock against yours.

There’s a soreness in the sensation, tension giving out with each thrust. Your hips squirm beneath him, instinctively bucking into his movements, “You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he sighs, voice raspy, sending a shiver through you.

“More, I can take more,” you whisper, the words leaving your mouth without a second thought. All you can feel is a need for all of him—deeper.

He follows your command, his pace quickening enough to make your legs lock around him. His arm slides beneath you, a protective hand wrapping around the back of your neck as he holds your frame closer to his.

Your senses are overwhelmed by his scent—the endorphins pooling off of him and making you feel drunk on the smell.

In one swift motion, he pulls you up with him, arms wrapped around you in a heated embrace as you roll your hips against his—chasing the pleasure of his length knocking into the sensitive spot inside you.

His lips chase yours, a deep slow kiss that makes your hips move more desperately. Little whimpers leave your lips between each kiss, making his wandering hands dig into your skin with a desire to touch every part of you.

“Just like that—fuck,” he groans against your skin, his hands guiding your hips against his. Your arms cling to him as he lowers you back onto the pillows, his claim on your skin intensifying as his thrust becomes more greedy, needy as he takes control again.

His hands run along your frame, inching towards your breasts until your nipples are beneath his circling fingers. It makes your breath hitch, and that notch of tension forms within your core again. Your bucking his and nails digging into Dean’s skin are like an unspoken demand, and follows the cues you’re unaware of by sliding a hand down to your joined bodies.

His fingers work dizzying circles between your folds, your breathing falling uneven against his. Your muscles go tense again, tightening with each thrust of his tip against sore, sensitive flesh.

Tears prickle at your lashes as you cry out his name, losing yourself in the tidal wave of relief that flows through—leaving your body shuddering beneath his.

Your name leaves his lips, a quiet mantra, just as it did when he lifted his head in your prayer. His warm release threads inside you, coating your walls.

His hips stutter, falling into a lazy rhythm until he’s still. Breathing heavy against you, holding you in his arms for a moment as you both come down from the moment.

Sowly, he pulls away, shifting to lay beside you. Your mind is a complete sleepy haze, another new feeling for an angel who has never known exhaustion to the point of needing sleep. It’s a sweet, comforting thing—to want to close your eyes and give in.

Dean shifts, adjusting your body until you’re snug against his chest beneath the covers. His arms wrap around you, firm and protective, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in his world. Being surrounded by his warmth, his quiet strength, feels like a peace you never believed could exist—a haven you’re not sure you could ever let go of.

As your eyes grow heavy, his lips brush your ear, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet. “Sleep, angel. I’ve got you.”

speak for yourself - imogen heap album was on repeat while writing this btw. also i got lazy after dean's munch moment and did nawt re-read or edit the rest so i apologize <3 but i hope this was fun idk i kinda hate it now to be frank i d k ugh bye ily

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x angel!reader

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