#any fandom dark bingo

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

11. Palmiers

Bucky

Because he’s on the far end of the spectrum, Bucky’s sex drive is affected by his condition. He wakes up hard almost every morning of his life, and Steve doesn’t need much encouragement to get himself worked up into the same state very quickly. Mutual morning jerk offs were always bound to become part of their routine.

They take a shower and stand toe to toe, hands sliding and groping all over each others’ slick bodies, pulling on their cocks until both of them are shooting off against each other’s bellies. The water washes it away, and Steve gives him a deep, happy kiss. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

“Blegch. Go brush your teeth, you heathen.”

Steve laughs and gets out of the shower. Bucky stays in for a few minutes longer, adjusting the spray to its hardest setting and letting the hot water beat down on his back and shoulders. He sighs and stretches his neck this way and that, trying to get his vertebrae to pop, but his muscles are all too tight, and the stretching just seems to make it worse. Bucky drops his head in defeat. In all honesty, his shoulders and neck and back are all pretty fucked after months of near-constant use of his prosthetic.

Steve’s right: he doesn’t usually wear it this much. And he’s also right that Bucky’s been wearing it all day every day because he wants to feel powerful and able bodied in front of Mary. As per usual, Steve is the first one to have noticed what maladaptive behavior pattern he’s doing and why, and pointed it out to him. It really is for the best, Bucky knows. Because he can’t sustain wearing the arm all the time anymore. The thing is just too damn heavy.

The engineers who designed it have made tweaks and adjustments over the years. They’ve done all they can to lighten the load as much as possible, but the thing still weighs over twenty pounds. Twenty pounds doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s pulling on the same muscle groups day in and day out, everything in Bucky’s body winds up getting strained and unbalanced. He understands better now, how women fuck up their necks so badly from shouldering their purses (or their tits) around. A little bit of weight makes a big difference.

As a Dom, Bucky may have a tiny problem admitting when he needs help. He has to be in quite a bit of pain, trouble, or both, before he’ll ever speak up and allow himself to be vulnerable like that. It’s an inherent behavior that shrinks have been trying to therapize and medicate out of him since he was a kid, but nothing ever changed it much. Falling in love with Steve helped; Bucky can let himself be more vulnerable around him. But even still, it’s no small thing that he regularly approaches his husband to ask for help in getting his arm back on correctly (Bucky can do it, but it’s a pain in the ass, getting the mechanism lined up just right before it’ll take). 

He gets out of the shower and dries off, then approaches Steve with the prosthesis. “Gimme a hand?” 

Steve makes a cheerful noise of acknowledgement around his mouthful of toothpaste, spits and rinses, then takes the arm from Bucky. He lines it up just so, and then Bucky feels the deep shudder of the arm’s inner workings coming to life as they recognize their mate. The arm attaches and Steve lets go. 

“Thanks babe.”

“Uh huh.” 

It’s as Bucky’s bending over and pulling up his underwear and joggers that a spasm runs through his back and he cries out in a pained, “Ah!”

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky slowly stands back up. He’s able to get his pants up, but when he tests the movement of his neck and shoulders, the pain flares again. It feels like everything between the base of his skull and his mid back is seizing up. “Fuck,” he hisses, frustrated. It’s his day off. He’d been planning to go to the gym for his long workout. 

Steve steps up and puts a worried hand on his left shoulder. “Babe? Do you need it off?” 

“No. I need some painkillers and a magnesium tablet,” he grunts, already turning around (full body, because turning his head is a bad idea right now). “Fuck.” He starts off for the kitchen. 

Steve follows along with worried protests, telling him to lay his “stubborn ass” down and he’ll get it for him. Bucky ignores him and goes to the kitchen cabinet where they keep their supplement stuff. He winds up yelling again when he tries to reach up and grab the ibuprofen. “Fuck!” he says angrily.

“Babe, I said to let me do it,” Steve scolds, his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “And let me take this off. It’s hurting you.”

“Steve, back off,” he snaps, angry and waspish from being in pain, and from being frustrated with his own goddamn body. 

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky turns his head without thinking, hisses in pain, and then turns himself full-body to face in Mary’s direction. She’s standing there looking at the two of them in concern, one hand holding one of those swirly, flaky, crack-cookies that she makes, and the other holding a cup of tea. Her eyes widen at the sight of Bucky’s arm and body, reminding him that this is the first time she’s seen him without a shirt on. “Nothin’,” Bucky grunts.

“Shit,” she says. “Are you guys fighting? Is this a couples’ fight? I’ll just …” She turns to leave back towards her room.

“We’re not fighting,” Steve says. “Buck’s just being an ass. He gets that way when he’s in pain.”

Bucky would turn his head to glare at him, but it isn’t worth another flair of agony in his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, when Mary comes back over. “It’s fine,” he stresses. He opens the pill bottle and dumps three capsules into his palm. “Jeez, will everybody stop babying me? I just need a glass of water.” 

“I’ll get it,” Steve says, causing Bucky to huff once again. “Don’t be a jerk, babe.”

“Why are you in pain?” Mary asks, her eyes tracing all over the left side of Bucky’s scarred up body. “Is it … does your arm hurt?” 

“No. It just fucks up my muscles, sometimes.”

“Your muscles?”

Bucky sighs impatiently. “Steve, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“I’ll have to look.” Steve has returned with a glass of water, and Bucky tosses back the handful of pills, wincing at how even the slight motion of raising his arm up makes his trap twinge in protest. “Ugh.” 

“You should get a massage,” Mary suggests, and Bucky fights not to lash out at her. She doesn’t know that one of his biggest pet peeves in life is having other people tell him what he “should” do.

“My PT maxed out back in October,” he tells her. “Doesn’t renew again till January.”

Steve takes the water glass from him once he’s done. “Go lie face down on the bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll find the heating pad.”

“Well I could do it,” Mary blurts out. Both Bucky and Steve pause and look at her. She looks surprised, too, as though she hadn’t been planning to say the words until they were out of her mouth, and now doesn’t know how to continue�� “Um, that is ..." she gestures weakly with her cookie. “I just meant I know how to, if you wanted.” Eventually her cheeks color and she looks away. “Erm, Nevermind.”

“Wait,” Steve says. When Mary turns back, he’s looking at her earnestly, and Bucky thinks, Oh no. “You know how to give a back massage? Like a real one?”

“Yeah. My, ah, my ex always had neck problems, so.” She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I took a class at the community college, learned the basics.”

Bucky blinks. That’s the subbiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. “You did this for the husband that beat you?” he drawls, immediately regretting it because it comes out sounding way more derogatory than he intends it to. “Sorry. I just … actually would pay good money for a massage right now. If you know how to do it.” 

Mary bites her lip, looking deliciously shy and sweet. Bucky’s mood sours as he realizes that she doesn’t really want to. He’s about to let her off the hook, but then some unconscious movement he makes without meaning to has him flinching in pain again. “Sheezus,” he complains. 

“It’s not usually this bad,” Steve worries.

“I must’a slept on it wrong.”

Mary nods, as if this settles it. “Okay. Well, go in the bedroom and tie your hair up so it's out of the way.” She turns to Steve, all but dismissing Bucky now that she’s got a task to complete. Bucky fights back an amused smirk as he heads towards the bedroom, and he hears Mary bossing Steve around, telling him she needs dry oil, the heating pad, towels, and all the seat cushions off the couch. 

The fuck does she need those for? Bucky thinks as he pads back into his and Steve’s room.

He finds out a moment later, when Mary and Steve come in with a couch cushion each, and Steve goes back out to get another. They lay them in a line on the bed, and Mary directs Bucky to lie on top of them, with his body placed just so and his face down just there, and … Oh. He gets it.

She’s left space between the cushion under Bucky’s chest, and the next cushion up, which supports his forehead. The gap creates a drop through for his face—like a massage table. And when she shapes the towel into a donut shape and sticks it there, it's pretty much perfect.

“Oh,” Bucky says, as he’s settling into place. “Oh, that’s actually really smart.” He can’t see Mary from his position, but somehow he senses her preening over the praise anyway. Steve returns from the bathroom with the heating pad and oil. “Found this stuffed in the back of the linen closet. I don’t know what ‘jojoba’ is, but, um … it’s either that or the virgin olive out in the pantry.”

“Do not use that,” Bucky grumbles. “Shit’s expensive, and I don’t wanna smell like garlic truffle for the next three days.”

“That’ll work fine.” Mary is totally task focused, ignoring Bucky’s surliness and telling Steve to apply the heating pad across Bucky’s shoulders and neck for thirty minutes before they get started.

“Thirty minutes?!” Bucky complains, unable to see anything but the top of the bedcovers as the two of them go out into the hallway. 

“Just relax, Babe,” Steve says (and if Bucky isn’t mistaken, he sounds amused). “Take a nap.”

“I just woke up!” He scoffs at the bedspread when the door quietly ‘snicks’ shut and he realizes that he’s been abandoned. “Well okay then,” he mutters petulantly. Steve is right: he does turn into an ass when he’s in pain. Hmm. Maybe he should work on that.

Steve

Steve turns the tv onto a low volume so they can talk without Bucky hearing. “Sorry about him,” he says. “He’s a humongous jerk whenever he’s feeling crummy.”

“You mean it’s not just all the time?” Mary drawls.

“He’s … just one of those people you have to learn to love before you like them.” Mary raises an eyebrow, and Steve winces. “Er, that sounded harsh. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She twists her lips and looks down. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thanks, Hon. You want more tea?” 

“Yes please. There’s more of the palmiers in a baggie next to the coffee pot, if you want any.” 

“Heck yeah, I love those things.” Steve had thought the prepackaged ones at Starbucks were good, hadn’t even realized that they weren’t supposed to be all stale and hard like that. Just another commercialized pastry that Mary’s gone and ruined him for. He goes into the kitchen and makes himself coffee and Mary tea, knowing by now how she takes it.

She thanks him silently as he returns and joins her on the couch, both of them sitting close to one another on the chaise, since it’s the only part of the couch that still has its cushion.

"Palmier is French. Know what else they call these?" Mary asks.

Steve's lips quirk. Mary's always got these little facts she knows about the origins of this pastry or that. It's cute. Endearing. "No," he plays along. "What?"

"Elephant ears, because of the shape, see?"

"Oh yeah. Huh. That's neat."

She goes back to eating and sipping at her teacup, and after a moment of unrequited, affectionate staring, Steve looks away. "Elephant ears," he murmurs, trying not to be mopey. "That's funny."

They split the palmiers between them, and aside from the sounds of them munching cookies and sipping their drinks, it’s quiet for a long time. Steve made both the tea and the coffee very hot, so they at least have the excuse of cradling and blowing on their steaming mugs to keep the silence from being too awkward. Mary keeps her eyes trained forward, but Steve gets the sense that she isn’t really paying attention to the home renovation program that’s playing on the tv. His suspicions are confirmed when she eventually asks,

“So: His arm.”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yeah. His arm.”

“What happened?”

Steve frowns. He can tell by her inflection that she’s asking not just about the arm, but about the state of Bucky’s entire left side from shoulder to hip. “We were in the army,” he confides. “Deployed overseas. I made captain young, but he was a specialist in the field: a sniper. So I wasn’t put into the same types of situations as he was. His convoy got blown up by an IED. And when the dust settled …” He shrugs. “No more arm.”

“Oh.” Mary sits there and absorbs that information. “I guess I kind of figured it was something like that. I mean what else is there, besides like, a shark attack or something?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. Shark attack, ha. He’ll have to suggest that one to Buck. Might be fun to lie about, the next time a stranger asks. “Naw, just a boring old bomb. And afterwards, well. It was a long road for him, after. He didn’t have the arm when I met him.”

Mary turns her head, surprised. “Oh. You two didn’t meet in the army?”

“No, after. I met him at the V.A., when he was already angry, hurt, and didn’t want to be where he was.” Steve looks over and gives her a meaningful look. “Kind of like when I first met you.” 

Her eyes widen, and then her face colors and she looks away again, pulling her knees up and hunkering over her mug. “Was I really that bad?” she mumbles.

“... You were pretty bad, Honey.”

She frowns and doesn’t say anything, and Steve decides to leave it alone. “So yeah, his arm. He got into a program for experimental cybernetics. It was a big gamble. Back then, he still had his arm down to nearly the elbow, which meant he could use a lot of the different types of prostheses they had on the market. The less arm you have, the less they can do for you. The surgeries for the implant required removal all the way up to and including his left shoulder blade. So if he went through with it and the procedures didn’t work out, he’d be left with less function than he started with.”

“Jeez.”

“Hm, yeah. It was a risk.” Steve stares across the living room as he remembers all of the hospital stays and surgeries and revisions and therapy appointments. “Luckily it worked out. They replaced some bones with metal supports, some of his natural muscle with enhanced synthetic tissue. His body didn’t reject any of the junk they were putting in him, which was the biggest worry. All in all, it took five surgeries over the course of three years, and then a shit ton of physiotherapy. Buck says it was worth it, now, but it wasn’t a walk in the park when it was happening, I’ll tell you that.”

Beside him, Mary makes a sad little noise in her throat. “But … all that and it still gives him pain?”

“Yeah. He gets PT for it, but like he said; it never winds up lasting the full year. I force him to my veterans' support group when I can, but he’s gotta be in a really charitable mood for that.” Steve snorts humorlessly. “He’s always hated being disabled. It doesn’t jive with his DPD. You know that stereotype about men: never wanting to stop and ask for directions?” 

“Yeah.”

"Well it's true. And then you take a guy who’s as far on the spectrum as Bucky is, and it’s ten times worse.” He widens his eyes in emphasis and gets a little giggle out of Mary for it, which makes him warm with pride. He pulls his feet up onto the couch next to Mary’s and nudges her knee with his. “Just fair warning: He’s the worst patient I’ve ever seen. So don’t take it personally if he’s grumpy at you in there.”

Mary frowns and looks away. “Well, I mean I don’t have to do this. If he doesn’t want to.”

“Pretty sure he wants to. And he needs help with it, whether his stubborn ass wants to admit it or not.”

She nods, though she still doesn’t look confident. “It’s been over a year since I worked on anybody …”

“Well then this’ll be good practice for you, won’t it?” Steve nudges her again in encouragement and tells her to finish up her tea: He doesn’t expect Bucky’ll lie around patiently for much longer.

(“Oh, and Hon, maybe don’t tell him we were out here talking about him this whole time.”)

(“Duh.”)

In the bedroom, Mary climbs onto the bed next to where Bucky is laid out on the couch cushions. She takes the heating pad off his neck and puts it aside, looking nervously over the broad expanse of his back. “Um …” She reaches for the oil bottle and pumps some into her hands. She spends a long, long time just spreading it between her hands and staring at Bucky, until finally he snaps,

“What’s the holdup?” 

“Babe, be nice,” Steve warns. “Mary? You need anything?”

“Um, no. It’s just … usually I'd ..." She makes an aborted move, like she's thinking about repositioning herself, but winds up staying where she is. "Right," she mutters to herself. "This'll work fine." She reaches forward like she’ll start rubbing Bucky’s back, hesitates, shuffles closer to his side, then sets her hands on his shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch, but he’s not used to new people touching him, and Steve would bet money that his eyes are clenched shut right now.

“Okay,” Mary warns. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t get your hopes up for a miracle or anything.”

“Anything’ll be better than what I can do myself,” Bucky says gruffly, voice somewhat muffled by the cushions. “Just go to town. You can’t hurt me any worse.”

Steve can see Mary’s face, and he knows by now what she looks like when she’s flustered. Awkwardly, he steps to the side, heading for the door. “I’ll just go watch some—”

“No!” Mary squeaks, and when Steve turns back around she’s looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t leave,” she says, like being left alone touching Bucky is the worst possible thing that could happen. Steve doesn’t miss how the muscles in Bucky’s arms do tense at hearing her plead for Steve to stay. 

“Uhm, okay. I’ll just … be over here.” He leans back against the dresser, feeling almost painfully awkward. Once again, he’s reminded how Mary has shown absolutely no desire to engage in sexual contact with them. He hopes she doesn’t think this is a ploy to force physical contact. She was the one who suggested it, after all.

She starts at the base of Bucky’s skull, rubbing her thumbs in small circles. “As I go along, try to tell me which areas feel the worst,” she murmurs, and Bucky hums in acknowledgement. Steve watches as she pushes and circles and kneads Bucky’s neck, working down on into his shoulders. He’s struck by how feminine and tiny her hands look against Bucky’s body … and then has to steer his mind away from the thought of how tiny they might look in other places.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky gasps, when she reaches a certain spot on the left side of his neck.

She freezes. “Bad?” 

“Nngh. Good,” he slurs. “That whole area from there goin’ down into my back ‘n all around my shoulder blade is where it’s worst.”

“Okay.” She tentatively presses around in and around the left side of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It starts right here and goes down.” She slides her hand down the muscle and hums. “Oh, I can feel it.”

(Steve tries really hard not to think sexual thoughts.)

“Riiight here? and … here?"

Between the cushions, Bucky’s voice comes out in a series of garbled moans.

“That’d be a yes,” Steve interprets, and Mary actually shoots him a grin at that. Glad to have cut the tension a bit, he dares to take a few steps closer to the bed. He peers down at what Mary’s doing, the way her fingers dig in at sharp, focused points in some places and rub more gently in others. “It’s your trap that’s the worst,” she mutters distractedly, feeling around with her hands and staring off into space with the tip of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. It’s cute. “Mmm, but probably your levator scapulae, too. Those tend to get fucked up hand in hand.”

“Mmrr.”

“And here: your rhomboid.”

“Ooh!”

“Tender?” 

“Shuyeahhh,” Bucky grunts, then his breath hitches when she digs into another spot. “Oh, yep yep right there. Was’that?”

Steve can’t help but grin. Bucky sounds like he’s drooling at this point.

“Your trapezius muscle. It's big. Does a lot of work, covers a large area. Probably the main offender.” Mary hums and feels around a little more. “Oof, yeah. You’ve got a whole bunch of tension right here.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks, fascinated. He can't see anything.

“Yeah. Here, gimme your hand.” Steve is taken aback when she grabs his hand and guides his fingers into place, her own smaller hand pressing down. “Riiight there. You feel it?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Ah, yeah.” His eyes flick from her hand on his hand on Bucky’s back, up to her face, and back again before she can catch him looking. “Y-yeah it’s hard.” He grimaces at his choice of words (If he's not careful, "it" soon will be).

“I’m gonna focus on this one for a few minutes,” Mary tells Bucky. Then you can guide me around to the other bad spots.”

“Sounds good,” he slurs. Steve is about to take a step back again, but then Bucky calls out, “Hey Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Pay attention to what she’s doin’. It feels really fuckin’ good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmhm. You can learn n' do it next time,” he says dreamily. On his back, Mary’s hands still for the briefest of seconds. “S’goood.”

Steve nods and comes back to sit on the bed. “Okay,” he agrees, scooting in close and glancing at Mary. Her face looks pinched all of a sudden, her expression stiffened as if in annoyance. “I promise I’m not as dumb as I look,” he jokes, and watches as her face smooths out and she smiles a little.

“Oh! Oh no it’s … it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll teach you how.”

“Don’t mind me, m’just a teaching tool,” Bucky drawls, and Steve laughs and pats his shoulder. 

“Yeah you are. So shut up and let her teach.”

Bucky grunts and shuts up. Steve looks to Mary for instruction. He can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she manages to hide it well and keep herself on track. The more he pays attention, the sooner she can get herself out of this and never have to do it again. “Ready to learn,” he tells her.

“Now when you’re doing this, you can get more leverage if you straddle his waist.” She says this like it’s a foregone assumption that she would never dare to sit on Bucky’s waist, and Steve is sure she doesn’t notice the grumpy huff of breath Bucky gives.

“Right,” Steve says, pained. “Okay, so where are the bad spots again?”

“Put your hand here.” She takes his hand again and places it just to the left of Bucky’s spine at the level of his shoulder blade. “Slide your fingers out. There. Feel that difference? Feel how it changes when you move out to just … there?” She guides his fingers, and Steve nods. 

“Y-yeah.” Mostly, he’s just thinking about how nice Mary’s warm, oiled, tiny hand feels guiding his hand around. “Yeah.”

“The trap’s on top, but there are other muscles underneath of this one, and that differentiation you feel is where the rhomboid is ending and the—”

She keeps talking, and Steve tries to pay attention and learn, he really does. But his mind is a veritable sieve, for how well he retains the information. It’s all in one ear and out the other, ninety percent of his attention stuck on Mary’s hands on him, guiding him, pressing on his fingers and gliding his touch over Bucky’s skin. Fuck, how did they wind up here? 

Eventually, having taught Steve the basics, Mary lets him go and works on Bucky’s shoulders for a little while more. For the most part it’s quiet, with Bucky making soft grunts of pain whenever she finds a new cluster of knotted muscle, and sighs of relief once she works them out. 

Her hands linger on Bucky’s mid back when she’s done. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Erm. Okay. I think … I think that’s it.”

When neither Bucky nor Steve says anything, she retreats on her own, getting off the bed and looking between Bucky’s prone form and Steve’s sorrowful expression. “So, kay. You can get up, if you want. Just move slowly.”

Bucky’s right hand gives her the thumbs up symbol, but the entire rest of his body doesn’t move. “Thanks Mare. Just give us a second. That was really good. Thank you. Thanks for teaching Steve.”

It’s the “Thanks for teaching Steve” that seems to do it. Mary’s expression firms up and she nods curtly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Steve stays sitting on the bed next to Bucky in silence for a long minute, then says knowingly, “Got a boner?”

“Yep.”

*This chapter would've had the "breaking point," but I don't like to post chapters of more than 4-5000 wordcounts on Tumblr. So the next part will be up in a bit once I fine tune and add to it.

**And to anyone who's only ever had store bought, pre-packaged palmiers: I'm so sorry. Along with Madeleines, those should never be eaten more than a few hours max after they've been baked.

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This has been a fill for:

@anyfandomdarkbingo

Card: sarahyellow / sarah-writes-stucky

Square N3: Body Swap

@matchat3a @bethexo07

[foxywrites]

all my agony fades away (when you hold me in your embrace) - CH 1

Dazai calls Chuuya drunk from a bar on a stormy night at 3 am, and things just escalate from there on.

(this fic was slightly inspired by @caelanglang's drunk fem SKK drawings!)

WORD COUNT; 2,237 words

RATING; Teen (SFW)

CHAPTER; 1/3

WARNINGS; Attempted Rape, Depressed Character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Drinking, Murder

FANDOM: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs

RELATIONSHIPS/PAIRINGS; Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

CHARACTERS; Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Armed Detective Agency Ensemble (Bungou Stray Dogs)

ADDITIONAL TAGS; Drunken Shenanigans, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Murder, Protective Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Female Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Female Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Female Dazai Osamu & Female Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Drinking, Dazai Osamu Needs a Hug (Bungou Stray Dogs), Soft Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), July Break Bingo, July Break Bingo 2023, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Hurt/Comfort, Any Fandom Goes Bingo, Any Fandom Angst Bingo, Any Fandom Dark Bingo, Genderbending, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, (OH AND THE NON-CON IS NOT BETWEEN DAZAI AND CHUUYA!)

JULY BREAK FLASH BINGO PROMPTS || @julybreakbingo

- “I think I’m losing my mind.”

JULY BREAK MINI BINGO PROMPTS || @julybreakbingo

- Bar or Restaurant

BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO PROMPTS || @badthingshappenbingo

- Attempted Rape

ANY FANDOM ANGST BINGO PROMPTS || @anyfandomangstbingo

- Homicidal Tendencies (by Chuuya)

ANY FANDOM DARK BINGO PROMPTS || @anyfandomdarkbingo

- Blue on Black by Kenny Wayne Shepherd

LGBTQ BINGO || @lgbtqbingo

- Height Difference

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Fourteen

Bucky finds out what it is to be a part of Zola’s experiment, and is marked as Hydra’s property. Prompts fulfilled; - ‘Apocalypse Cult’ – @multifandom-flash (Beehive); - ‘Tattooing Over a Scar’ – Winter Wonderland Bingo @seasonaldelightsbingo ; BLACKOUT! (with alts XD) - “Say Please.” – @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Disturbing a Grave’ – @halloweenhorrorbingo; - ‘Exposure’ – @badthingshappenbingo; - ‘Eternal Agony’ – @fnafbingo; “You Broke the Rules. And Now You Gotta Pay.” – @anyfandomdarkbingo. CW: Death of an unknown character, corpses, non-con body modification, sexual assault.

Boards at the bottom. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

Dividers by @atlasscrumpit

By the time Zola came to see me the following day, I was already sat upright on the edge of my bed, fist curled loosely in my lap.

“Ah, up already, I see!” His tone was upbeat and jovial, but I simply raised my head to stare at him blankly, devoid of any emotion. “I expect you’re excited to get underway with your training.” A simple nod, and I stood, not bothering to point out that it was, in fact, the never-ending ache radiating from tailbone to navel that had kept me awake. “It’s going to take me a short while to make your arm. In the meantime, we have a job for you.” He handed me a chunk of bread, and I bit into it without enthusiasm, the dry wheat clinging to my tongue as I followed him through the halls.

The machine set up before me was distantly familiar, and a spike of fear shot through me at the memory of a pattern of bruises across cheekbone and forehead where the restraints had dug into my skin, holding me fast as convulsions wracked my body.

But this time the seat was occupied by another – one who looked significantly worse than I did after my time in the chair.

“What is this?” I breathed, inching closer uncertainly, taking in the slack jaw and soured complexion, heightened hearing straining for any sign of a heartbeat.

“Another failed experiment,” Zola replied dismissively, waving a hand. “Get him out. The soldiers will show you where to dispose of him.”

I fumbled with the contraption until one of the two soldiers standing guard sighed in frustration, leaning closer to press a button, the deceased man’s head falling forward with macabre reminiscence of a marionette with severed strings. Biting back fury and nausea at touching the cooling skin, I freed his limbs form their loosened shackles and draped him carefully over my shoulder.

Inanimate fingertips sent a shiver through me as they brushed my lower back, swaying with the motion of my steps as I followed my guard down the endless, twisting corridors.

He paused beside a heavy door, and we trembled in unison at the bitterly cold wind that swirled around us when he cracked it open.

“I’m not going out there,” he muttered, eyeing the flakes flowing readily through the gap and picking up a shovel to press it into my hand. “Find a spot. Dig a hole. Drop him in. Make sure you cover it over, else there’ll be wolves and bears and all sorts hanging around. I’d hate to have to find something else to feed them to draw them away,” he added pointedly. I simply nodded, skin erupting in goosebumps as he opened the door wider and pushed me out.

The snow piled into my boots with the first step, freezing my toes and soaking the thin socks I’d been provided with. I struggled on through the knee-high drifts, almost floundering under the uneven weight of my load and the lack of hands available to hold both shovel and corpse.

Perhaps a hundred yards from the facility, I came to a stop beside a rocky outcrop offering a relatively sheltered spot at which to dig. Pausing, I looked up, peering through the swirling snow. Even with my enhanced eyes, I could barely make out any details of the building – it was unlikely I could be seen by anyone attempting to watch me.

Glancing in the other direction, I gazed out over the blank emptiness, a barely-perceptible, soft haze in the distance the only indication of any break in the endless tundra – a copse of trees, perhaps, or the beginning of an attempt at civilization in this frozen wasteland?

I could run.

I might get shot before I get fifty yards, but at least I’d die out here, as a free man. Not in the endless, eternal agony of being their lab rat, their attack dog on a chain.

I took one step away from the outcrop, then another, shivering violently as the snow soaked quickly through my already damp clothes.

I could run.

I could escape this apocalyptic cult. The torture. The abuse.

I could…

My muscles faltered on the third step, then froze entirely on the fourth.

What the Hell is wrong with you? This is your chance! It doesn’t matter if you die out here! It’s better than staying here! Run!

Despite the voice screaming in my head, I couldn’t take another step, my body rigid with fear the further I strayed from my orders.

My eyes strayed to the body still resting on the ground, coated by now with a layer of thick, fluffy flakes.

I… I should bury him, at least. Nobody deserves to be left to the elements and the wildlife like that.

With a soft sigh of relief at having a clear path before me, I picked up the shovel once more, turning to assess the frozen ground obediently.

The hole was just about deep enough when I came across a sight that sent me sprawling from the grave as my stomach churned.

I was experienced enough in life – and in death – to have recognised what lay beneath the frozen ground immediately, and the off-white bone dotted with residual scraps of partially decomposed flesh was tattooed to the inside of my eyelids as I knelt in the snow, retching. My body, so accustomed by now to emptying on command, acquiesced willingly to the rhythmic gagging, the sparse contents of my stomach steaming as it met the sub-zero ground. My fingers curled desperately as I heaved, breaking through powder and frost easily.

There were others.

How many people like these two – people like me?

When my futile retching finally ceased, I dropped quickly back into the freshly dug grave with hardened nerves and a sense of purpose, kneeling carefully to ease a little more dirt away, revealing thin remnants of dark, shoulder-length hair. My eyes closed in pain, and I diverted my face as I tenderly covered the man over once more, shaking my head the distinct similarities, muttering a hushed apology to my fallen comrade for disturbing his hard-won rest.

Shaking violently from cold and horror, my hand was careful as I lifted the body I’d been sent to bury against my chest, letting his temple fall briefly to my shoulder as I knelt once more to settle him on the ground. His head rested not five inches from our predecessor, and I brushed a thumb gently over the bruising on his cheek.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I whispered softly. I wished I could remember a poem, a profound quote about death to send him on his way peacefully – but the only thing that came to mind was pieces of the Lord’s Prayer, courtesy of Steve’s soft utterances unconsciously invading my mind. It didn’t feel like enough, but it was all I could offer in a stammering, faltering voice, tears staining my cheeks when I eventually stood once more.

I didn’t dare look to the horizon again until my task was complete, fresh snow quickly falling to obscure the disturbed earth.

Only then did I finally glance up once more, finding myself immediately struck once again by an intense, disabling terror as I found that hazy spot on the skyline. But this time I glanced back down, eyes skimming the last remaining signs that I’d ever been here at all.

This is what will happen if I stay here. Will anybody bother to bury me, or will I just lay under the open sky, finding flesh and bone at the mercy of the animals?

My muscles were more willing this time.

Five steps.

Ten.

Fifteen, and my pace increased – first to a lope, then a jog, and then I was sprinting, flying across the ground, malnourished body screaming in protest as I tore over the open tundra, but there was no way in hell I was slowing, not before I was sheltered by the cluster of trees at last identifiable. My feet churned up the powder as I ran, and-

I felt it before the sound registered in my mind.

My legs immediately crumbled beneath me as I yelped, thigh on fire where the bullet had torn through muscle and flesh. The aim was true, bypassing the femoral artery, but that didn’t stop blood from pumping freely onto the snow, staining the pure white with violent red in a macabre echo of the past.

Glancing back, I could see the figures swarming from the facility, moving quickly as they descended upon me as if a storm cloud. My heart pounded in terror, and I attempted to scrabble to my feet – then cried out in shocked pain, raising my hand to touch tentatively at the stinging wound at the top of my ear. Another bullet had grazed the soft skin there, barely breaking the surface – but the intent here was not harm.

No… This is a warning.

I stared at the trees standing stark against the white, finally close enough to distinguish branch from trunk, fingers curling with my grief. I knew I should stand – should force myself forward once more, choosing freedom over captivity in whatever form it came. But the survival instinct within me was a muscle well-honed over recent months, and no matter how hard I fought against myself, I couldn’t force my legs to move in much more than a tremor as I knelt in the snow. My own body simply disobeyed me, choosing longevity by any means.

I didn’t look up as I was dragged back through the snow, staggering and stumbling with a hand under my armpit to keep me going. I’d have simply laid down, but a cattle prod to the ribs made sure I moved forward, body jerking at the voltage shot through me each time I slowed.

The Lieutenant was whistling tunelessly between his teeth when I was released unceremoniously in the middle of his office, legs crumbling beneath me from cold, blood loss and exhaustion. I hardly dared raise my eyes, but he said nothing as I looked to him fearfully, his eyes still on the rifle in his hands as he wiped it down.

“You were a sniper too, once upon a time,” he noted softly, and I trembled ever more at the sound of his voice, stomach clenching in anticipation of punishment as I nodded silently. “Before Hydra, I was a sniper. And then I came here. Now I only shoot wolves, for fun. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to keep my skills sharp, you understand.” He glanced at me at last, his smile almost apologetic as he jerked his head by way of indication. “I’ll clean that up for you. Lie down.”

Moving where he directed me, I shivered with cold and fear, wincing in pain as my back pressed to frigid metal and he moved closer. My feet, wrist and throat were secured beneath heavy steel, earning me another sorry grin. “Can’t have you wriggling around too much. I might end up hitting something important! I’d so hate for you to lose your leg, too…”

I winced, eyes closing automatically as he bent over me, gulping in air at the feeling of scissors slicing through the thin, drenched fabric of my pants. He hummed under his breath as he exposed my wound, blood still flowing freely from the hole in my thigh, the gory stickiness pooling beneath me and filling the air with the scent of dirty pennies as he stepped back. The sound of his small stack of drawers containing his tools rattling as he searched through them made my skin crawl, and I jerked in surprise at a hand on my knee, lids snapping open despite myself to find him peering at the bullet wound. “A clean shot,” he murmured, gently poking at the skin around the macabre sight. “In and out. You’ll be fine – I’ll just stitch you up, and you’ll be on your way.” I nodded stiffly, mistrustful, and he shot me a broad grin. “Didn’t anybody teach you any manners? Say please.”

“Please,” I whispered immediately, flicking my gaze to the ceiling, desperately wishing I could leave my body. “Please, Sir.”

With a quiet chuckle of delight, he began, and I clenched my teeth minutely at the feel of needle passing through skin, knitting together the ragged edges of my wound in a silence punctuated only by the stomach-churning sounds of squelching and sticking produced by parts of me not normally exposed to the outside world.

It took only a matter of minutes for him to secure the site – albeit only at a surface level and in the most basic way possible, leaving my body to do most of the hard work. I blinked in surprise when he released my bindings, sitting up with a soft utterance of gratitude, uncertainty and distrust heavy as I glanced at him.

It was when I went to move to my feet that his hand found my chest, his smile turning just a little cold around the edges. “That was only the exit would, Asset. I need to stitch up the back, too. Lie down on your chest, if you would.”

I could feel my heart hammering as I obeyed weakly, the trials of the day leaving me in no position to fight. Corpses flickered before my eyes, haunting me as my body met the table once more and my already-cut pants were shredded once more, the material pooling uselessly either side of my leg. His hand was high on my thigh, skirting the underpants I’d be given. The touch was almost delicate, fingertips skimming gently under the very edge of the material. His grip tightened minutely to pull the skin taut, earning a hiss of pain that he quietly shushed away. He hummed under his breath as he slowly stitched me up, fingers brushing between my thighs to swipe away the blood.

The hand below my ass relaxed as the tugging stopped, thumb brushing tenderly over my skin. “Good. All done…”

I nodded once more, eyes focused on the long window opposite, the winter sun already beginning to set after a few short hours of daylight. My muscles twitched, ready to move, to be out of this position of vulnerability – but neither his hands nor the restraints lifted. “… Sir?” I breathed, hardly daring to speak as he continued to caress my leg.

“You broke the rules,” he purred, a smile in his voice, “and now you gotta pay.”

My eyes closed in a flinch, jaw clenched with resigned terror. I wished more than anything that I could leave my body – just come back when this was over. This punishment, this life…

But my mind stayed firmly where it was, focused on his hand on my thigh, and the touch of metal to skin. The sound of scissors closing slowly, cold air breathing over my exposed ass, set my stomach churning – a feeling that only intensified as the pointed edge pricked the skin at the base of my spine as he began to methodically remove my shirt.

His free hand trailed almost tenderly over waist, keeping pace with the first until my entire back exposed, the sleeve still wrapped around my arm offering very little comfort in my nudity.

Then he was gone, stepping away from the table seeking unknown instructions of torture. The restraint around my neck held my head fast, no matter how I wriggled and strained, offering no insight into the punishment I was about to receive.

A violent buzzing, intermittent, almost tentative, gave me pause, the pitch wavering minutely as the Lieutenant whistled tunelessly through his teeth. I distantly recognized the sound – there was a sense of faint familiarity, of something passed by on occasion, but never personally pertinent.

It wasn’t until his hand rested lightly on my back and the sharp, dragging pain began that the image of a tattoo parlour Steve and I had walked past frequently flickered behind my eyelids, sending them snapping open in shock.

A tattoo?

… Why?

I dared not ask the question aloud, settling instead into the mild discomfort of the needles between my shoulder blades; the pain was minimal compared to what I was used to, and I’d take his defacing my skin over torture any day.

After all, I was already a monster – there was nothing he could stain me with that could make it any worse.

He’d finished the work with a line that brushed against one of the puckered, tactile scars trailing away from my shoulder. The action caused searing pain to extend along fingers that no longer existed, and I clamped my jaw tighter, refusing to utter a sound at the unexpected intensity.

It was a relief when he stopped, a clammy sweat gathering beneath me at the discomfort. He ran a fingertip over the stinging skin of my back, eliciting a minute wince as he hummed contentedly. “Beautiful… Would you like to see?”

I struggled briefly, desperately trying to figure out which answer was the correct one – which would prevent further punishment. Eventually, stiffly, I nodded, and he stepped into my eyeline as his face broke into a grin. With the edge of something predatory tugging at his lips, he squatted close to my face, mint-infused breath washing over my skin, mingling with the scent of his bodywash and the odour of blood and ink.

He shouldn’t smell good, I noted abruptly, the bizarre thought taking me by surprise. He shouldn’t smell… Pleasant. Not this monster. It’s not right.

He angled a hand mirror over us, showing a quick flash of a delighted gaze and sick pleasure, before revealing the words imprinted across my shoulders.

Hail HYDRA.

Indelible, forever tarnishing my skin, marking me as one of them. As their attack dog. As their Asset.

I swallowed dryly, my stomach churning, as he chuckled softly, lips skimming over my cheek with something close to affection.

“Maybe now you won’t forget who you belong to.”

I could only nod weakly, terrified to look away before I was told to, but eventually he lowered the mirror and my eyes squeezed closed briefly.

I was wrong.

He unshackled me, but I didn’t move.

This was it.

This was the last thing.

I can’t fight anymore.

He hummed in surprise and delight, fingertips trailing over my spine. “So it seems you can learn… Good boy. Roll.”

I obeyed immediately, the metal too warm to soothe the gentle burn of my skin and slick with my sweat. He didn’t bother to resecure me, trusting in my blind obedience. Distantly, I realised that we were alone in the room; I’d never have a better opportunity than this. But I couldn’t even pretend to consider moving. I couldn’t contemplate putting myself into a position of yet another punishment for a slim chance of freedom. It isn’t worth it. He beamed at me, resting a hand gently on my chest. “Look at that! So good. Perhaps you may deserve a reward… Would you like that?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied immediately, my voice soft and robotic. I had no idea what this ‘reward’ would be, but I didn’t have any capacity left to give anything other than the answer I thought he’d prefer. The smile softened, and his hand travelled down slowly, resting briefly on my abdomen as he leant closer.

My mind was entirely blank when he kissed me, tongue trailing gently over my lower lip, prompting my mouth to open to grant him access. It wasn’t until his teeth tugged tenderly that his fingers his fingers wrapped around my length, caressing slowly. Confusion enveloped me at his gentle touch, the way his free hand cupped my jaw to hold me closer. The combination of the firm pressure of his lips on mine and the expert ministrations on my cock sent spikes of shameful arousal through my body, colouring my cheeks as I began to react to him. “You like that, hm?” he breathed, fingers moving a little more firmly, and I offered an obedient nod.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmured, repulsed and humiliated that the statement wasn’t entirely untrue. He purred with delight at my words and my stiffening member, his hand wrapping more thoroughly around me. To my horror, I let out a soft, breathless whine, earning a soft chuckle, his hips pressing lightly against my side to demonstrate his own arousal.

“That’s it. Just relax. Do you see, Asset? When you’re bad, you will be punished. When you’re good, and obey orders… I can be merciful.”

Nausea cramped my stomach as he kissed me again, tongue brushing mine and making me tremble.

At least when he raped me it was simple.

There was no confusion in violent violation, in fighting and wishing it to be over.

But this… The way my body stirred and reacted to a touch that felt almost loving.

In another time, another situation with another man, I could very easily love this feeling of someone else’s fingers wrapped around my length, lips trailing rapturously over my throat – if not for this specific time, this specific situation with this specific man.

But I couldn’t help the way my hips twitched and my back arched, breath coming in desperate, sharp pants as I inched towards the inevitable conclusion I could feel building under my skin. He seemed to notice my increasing desperation, groaning quietly and working me harder, mouth shifting against my skin. “You’re doing so well, Asset. Almost there – let me here you.”

I whimpered through my teeth – too afraid to disobey, reluctant to follow his orders easily. But a sharp nip of his teeth on my pulse and the steadily increasing speed of his hand on me made me cry out breathlessly, hips jerking with frantic need as I came without warning.

By the time I’d finished twitching, my chest coated with my own seed, my face was burning with shame and horror, humiliation cloying in my throat.

“Such a good boy,” he crooned, kissing my cheek softly. “Hail Hydra.”

His eyes shifted to me expectantly as I hesitated, and I swallowed around the lump in my throat, lowering my gaze. “Hail Hydra,” I breathed, the ink across my shoulders burning.

[42donotpanic]

The past, the present and the pain in between

Summary: Sleeping is hard when you have lived through as many things as Tony and Bucky have.

Pairing: WinterIron ( Bucky Barnes x Tony Stark)

Word Count : 844

Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

Tags : Nighmares, Forehead Hisses, Understanding. Everyone Lives

Written for:

@flufftober 2023 : Family, Friends, Loved Ones

@multifandom-flash : Nightmare fuel, Bloody hallucinations of guilt, Digging Yourself deeper, Everybody lives, Understanding boyfriend

@bingowinteriron : Forehead Kisses

@anyfandomdarkbingo : Infamous Family History

[higuchimon]

Ok, guys, I'm going to need your help with this. Please choose a prompt and in due time they will be written. This is the general order I have in mind:

Tumblr prompts

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Any Fandom Dark Bingo

Rewrites (One-shots)

Once I get the prompts for Any Fandom Dark Bingo requested and the rewrite one-shots sorted out (still in progress), I will put up a list and get down to serious work. Here are the Any Fandom Dark Bingos - please keep in mind that so very many of my fanfics are being rewritten, so any prompts chosen for things such as Reversal/etc won't be a part of the Official Timeline(s). The only one off-limits is "Apocalypse AU", which I am claiming for myself as the first one.

Like when I was accepting prompts for Bad Things Happen Bingo, I'll update twice a day and/or when a new prompt gets chosen.

Here we go:

[anyfandomdarkbingo]

Hello!

So I am not sure if it's too soon to check in, but if we signed up and don't have a card yet...should we reach out or just wait? I wasn't sure.

Thank you!! :)

p.s. I think it's been a week but I am not 100% certain. Thank you!!

Hello! Thanks very much for signing up for AF Dark 🖤 We've got your card request and are working on getting it made! We ask that you please allow mods up to two weeks to get your cards to you as we're all running the bingos in our spare time and it's been a very busy couple of months for most of us 😊 Your card will be with you soon!

[wild-selenite-caffine]

Summary:

Akira wanted one more day where he didn’t have to pretend he was fine.

Only a day, he begged, a day to be alone with himself.

Written For:

Painkillers | Sicktember 2022 | @sicktember

"You were destined to fail.” | Any Fandom Dark Bingo | @anyfandomdarkbingo

No. 4 Dead on Your Feet (Hidden Injury/Waking Up Disoriented/Can’t Pass Out) | Whumptober 2022 | @whumptober

[sllewiswriter]

Fill 5 - AnyFandomDarkBingo

Fill 5 - Buying Flowers

Go to @anyfandomdarkbingo to get yours. Must be 18 or older.

Pairing/Characters: Ron/Harry, Hermione

Rating: 18+

Chapter Tags/Warnings: bigotry, foul language, fights,

Story Tags/Warnings: Mental manipulation, intercural sex (thigh fucking), cursing (Language), cursing (spells), mental control, sexual themes, oral, the Dark Wins, Political intrigue, forced voyeurism,

Word Count: 1349

Bingo Card: @anyfandomdarkbingo card:  Row 2, Square 3 – Buying Flowers

Chapter Summary: He was going to get her special flowers. For a special meeting. Just because he had a special addition didn't mean anything.

After all, he didn't know the Potter Family secrets! And Harry wasn't talking, and neither was he.

Story Summary: She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and she was now unable to stop what was to come.

But someone would notice?

Wouldn't they?

Only on AO3

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter 10

Bucky is sought out, and he receives a gift from his new captors. CW: Nightmares, blood, death of a whumper. Prompts met; '11. Unexpected Gift (Best/Worst)' - @deaddovedec; 'Alt 9. Begging' - @whumpcember; 'Be Careful What You Wish For (alternate)' and 'Showering in Victim's Shower' - @halloweenhorrorbingo; 'The Past does not Forget, Blood does not Forgive' - Five Nights At Freddy's Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo); '"Don't Try to Beg. It Won't Work."' - @anyfandomdarkbingo; 'Can't Go Home' - @badthingshappenbingo.

Check it out on AO3 here, or read the first section below the KR with the boards!

I was emotionless as I was shuttled along, guided by the doctor with a hand on my elbow. My decent into madness, cold and encompassing, was certainly complete; I couldn’t even find the energy to feel guilt for the blood cooling on my skin, smearing in the dust beneath my soles. “I’m proud of you, soldier.” I blinked in surprise, head turning minutely. “Sir?” “You’ve proven an invaluable asset. You will be rewarded for your obedience.” Distantly, I was aware of the ominousness of his words, but was too numbed by my actions to care what happened to me. “Thank you, Sir,” I muttered. I hesitated outside my cell automatically, but he continued to encourage me along, and I followed with a soft, accepting shrug. I’m never going to be free of my actions here. I don’t care what happens to me now. The door he stopped outside was, for once, an actual door – albeit with a large, thick window that allowed for surveillance and hatch for delivering food. “What is this place?” “This is your reward, Американский. You have proven your obedience to the Soviet Union.” He pushed the door open, and my eyes widened in shock. I’d almost forgotten what comfort looked like. My memories, as long-faded as they now felt, told me that this was not, by any means, the height of sophistication and luxury, but compared to the bare, freezing room I was used to, the metal bed with its thin mattress looked fit for a king. The doctor inclined his head, gesturing to a thinner, wooden door opposite. “There’s a bathroom through there. Toilet, shower, the works.” He smirked as my jaw dropped, offering me a victorious, vicious grin. “I told you, Американский. Obedience earns reward. Disobedience, well…” His gaze dropped to the scars marring my body, fading quickly but still evident. “We know how that ends.” I nodded once, eyes lowered, silent and cautious. A shower. I hadn’t had more than the occasional, frigid hosing since I got here several months ago; the promise of hot water was almost too good to be true. “This is the part where you say ‘thank you’,” he growled, a hand tangling in my hair to jerk my head back. “Th-thank you, Sir,” I stammered uncertainly, my watery gaze locked on the ceiling, stained and peeling, until he released me. “The war is over, Американский. But you… You cannot go home, just like the other Aмериканцы. You have seen too much here. You are also too valuable to us. You are a Soviet soldier now – or you will die, like your companions. Do you understand me?” I nodded again, my eyes on the floor. “Yes, Sir. I understand.” “Good. Now clean yourself off; you’re disgusting.”

I was left alone for three days, save for the meals pushed through the hatch in the door. I’d been upgraded to slightly more edible dishes – they actually somewhat resembled food I’d once eaten now – and spent the time moving between bed and shower, still entirely naked but far less frozen than I’d been in my cell. The ability to wrap myself in my blanket, thin as it was, and stare into the middle distance in my room that never turned dark, curled into a foetal position on a flat mattress, felt like a luxury. The hot water erasing months of grime, dried blood, and the residue of infections long healed from my skin was a blessing. “Bucky?” My head snapped up, wet hair dripping across my forehead, mouth working wordlessly for a moment. “… Aleksi?” The hatch opened, a serving tray being placed in the space, and I scrambled to my feet in a panic. “Aleksi – is that you? You’re- Are you okay?” “Why are you in here?” he whispered, pale eyes large and concerned through the window. “What happened to the other Sergeant?” “Dead,” I replied tonelessly. I still refused to think about it – the soldier falling to his knees, the blood pooling around my feet, his last breath being used to call me a traitor – but the images came for me at night, leaving me trembling and breathless in the eternal light of my room. “… This… This was his room? The American?” “Da,” he replied, nodding. “He and the younger both. What happened?” “I did,” I answered coldly, fingers curling around my tray. I’ve been sleeping in their bed. Using their shower. All as a reward for their deaths- their murders. I think I might be sick… “Why?” “I was told to.” He nodded softly, wincing. “Because of me.” “Because of a choice I let you make,” I corrected quietly. “I could have made you leave, but I let you comfort me. That was my choice.” He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I shook my head fiercely, taking the tray and backing away. “Get out of here, Aleksi. If you’re caught talking to me, we’ll both be punished.” “Buck-” “No. Go away, Russki. We’ll survive this if you leave me alone – so do us both a favour, and don’t talk to me again.” With a resigned sigh, he closed the hatch, his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head as I sat with my knees to my chest, the tray beside me. I’m benefitting for being a killer. What other choice do I have? Why does being rewarded for this suddenly feel worse than just going back to my cell?

I expected to go several more days before I was interacted with again, left to my own devices in this room that now felt more like a new kind of torture than a comfort. I’d wished for a modicum of humanity for so long, but now that I had it, it was as a curse. It was – as far as I could tell – still the same day when a cursory knock sounded at the door before it banged against the wall. I was startled out of my mindless staring by an unknown, stiff-backed soldier marching into the room, his steel-grey eyes scanning the space in a perfunctory manner before finding me. “Sergeant Barnes? Identification 32557038?” I haven’t heard those numbers in so long. My hand instinctively sought my tags despite their long absence, and I nodded slowly. “Th-that’s me.” “Get up. We’re leaving.” “I-” He reached out to grasp my hair in his hand, dragging me to my feet as I yelped in surprise and pain. “I expect you to do what you’re told, when you’re told, soldier. No arguments, and no complaints.” His gaze found my arm – or rather, the absence of it – and his lip curled. “What the hell did that butcher do to you?” “I lost my arm falling from a train,” I replied immediately, and he nodded once, releasing his grip at last. “The fall in the Alps.” “Yes, Sir.” “We were informed. We assumed you dead.” “‘We’, Sir?” I inquired tentatively, and he met my eye with a grin. “The War is over, soldier… But HYDRA is still very much alive.”

[writercole]

Any Fandom Dark Bingo

@anyfandomdarkbingo

Breath Play Snow Dropper - Satin & Lace Revenge - Blood & Ash Gun Kink Forced Orgasm Challenge: Couples Costume "You would fall apart without me." Oviposition Symphorophilia "How could you think I ever loved you?" Mysophilia Evil!Character AU Addiction - Little White Lines Challenge: Tropical Island Virgin Sacrifice - Sacrifice Deception CEO/Secretary Serial Killer AU - Light Me Up True Crime Documentary Extreme Restraints Cursed Frotteurism Castration Everybody Gets High - Missio Challenge: Crazy Love - Jason Manns

[rookthorne]

I am trying my hand at the dark themes of fanfiction, and I can't wait to dig in and crack my glow sticks.

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬𝑺

― WINTER SOLDIER ―

֎  Alpha!Winter Soldier  —  Hell is Empty, the Shadows are Hiding

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑭𝑰𝑪 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻

TBR

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻

TBR

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑺

—  The AO3 SERIES can be found HERE.

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐁𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── 𝐊𝐄𝐘 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

— 𝐀  = angst — 𝐖  = whump — 𝐈 = sick fic — 𝐃  = dark — 𝐃² = dead dove — 𝐏 = poly — 𝐊 = kid fic — 𝐅  = fluff — 𝐒  = smut

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｂ１   ✘   𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗣𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗕𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Ｂ２   ✘   𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗔 𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗟

───   Alpha!Winter Soldier x Omega!F!Reader ──   𝐀 + 𝐖 + 𝐃 + 𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑 

Isolation and fear were all you knew, and it was all you experienced in the iron holding of that dank cell — you never knew any different.  There were even fewer things you knew for certain, but one thing you ascertained, in that dark, dreary, murderous reality you were thrust into, was that there was one other soul who suffered the same as you did. That same soul became your salvation and saving grace; a place to call safe.

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｂ３   ✘   𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗕𝗔𝗟 𝗔𝗕𝗨𝗦𝗘

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｂ４   ✘   𝗡𝗘𝗚𝗟𝗘𝗖𝗧 / 𝗔𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗡𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｂ５   ✘   𝗠𝗨𝗭𝗭𝗟𝗘𝗗

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｉ１   ✘   𝗗𝗥𝗨𝗚 𝗨𝗦𝗘

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｉ２   ✘   𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗔 𝗕𝗢𝗠𝗕

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｉ３   ✘   𝗜 𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｉ４   ✘   𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 / 𝗥𝗘𝗝𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｉ５   ✘   𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗬 𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗦

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞

Ｎ１   ✘   𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗖 𝗧𝗢𝗨𝗖𝗛 𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡

───   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｎ２   ✘   𝗢𝗕𝗝𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗧 𝗔 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｎ３   ✘   𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗛

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｎ４   ✘   𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｎ５   ✘   𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗗

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｇ１   ✘   𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗗 𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗘

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐞

Ｇ２   ✘   𝗨𝗡𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗬 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚

───   Dragon Rider!Bucky x Dragon Rider!F!Reader ──   𝐀 + 𝐖 + 𝐃 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

It was inherently a dangerous way to live the life of a Nomad Dragon Rider — an outcast. And those very dangers would be what would tear you apart, and what would separate you from the one you trusted, the one you loved.

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｇ３   ✘   𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝

Ｇ４   ✘   𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗔 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥

───   Serial Killer!Winter Soldier x F!Reader ──   𝐀 + 𝐖 + 𝐃 + 𝐃² ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

The night from hell had only begun when you started seeing a shadow observing you; appearing in the corner of your vision as you partied and rounded up the stragglers to herd them out the door. You didn’t know that what lay ahead was a nightmare dreamed up from the depths of your worst fears, nor did you know that the night would be stained red by the hands of someone you couldn’t even fathom could stalk the earth.  You weren’t sure what would be better — becoming one of the fallen that painted the walls red to escape what awaited you, or rolling over and baring your throat in a plea for mercy.  There were no Gods to save you, nor knights in shining armour — if you were going to make it out alive, you would for damn sure have to fight for it.

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｇ５   ✘   𝗔𝗕𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗦 𝗦𝗘𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｏ１   ✘   𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗜 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｏ２   ✘   𝗟𝗨𝗦𝗧

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｏ３   ✘   𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｏ４   ✘   𝗣𝗧𝗦𝗗

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

⋆♱⋆   𝐓𝐁𝐑

Ｏ５   ✘   𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

───   AU!Pairing ──   𝐓𝐁𝐑 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐓𝐁𝐑

Card by the team at @anyfandomdarkbingo

[higuchimon]

This is mostly from curiosity: should I accept requests for Any Fandom Dark Bingo or just write it as I please? Prompts are available by clicking the Any Fandom Dark Bingo tag.

Either way, I decided that the Reversal rewriting can wait a bit & I will focus this year on filling my Tumblr prompts & Bad Things Happen Bingo (& possibly Any Fandom Dark Bingo). People have been waiting a long time for those so I need to get them done.

[sinqueen69]

Title: You Couldn’t Save Them, But You Saved Me

Pairing/Characters: Stiles/Derek

Rating: 18+

Tags/Warnings: Dark Bingo, monsterfuckingmarch 2023, Couldn’t Save Them, Werewolves, Breeding, Knotting, Fangs, Mates Sterek, Outdoor Sex, Scenting, Anal Sex, Creampie, Rough Sex

Word Count: 1,614

Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingobingo - Square - Couldn’t Save Them

Monsterfuckingmarch 2023 Day 9 - Feral Fiends [Werewolves + Breeding, Knotting, Fangs]

Dark Bingo Square - Couldn't Save Them - BLACK OUT CARD

@Daemnyra97 on Tumblr: Breeding and Derek and Stiles

[moosekateer13]

Bitter

For @anyfandomdarkbingo

Square filled: Aliens

Sam Winchester x Dean Winchester x Enna Zyq-To

Warnings: Dark Winchesters, Kryptonite, Drugged, Addiction. Dub Con, Smut, Vandalism, Destruction of Property, Fluff

Summary Sam and Dean become inhibited by a beer laced with red kryptonite while visiting a small town called Smallville. They cause havoc across town, where they run into Enna Zyq-To a Kryptonian. Will she make things better or worse?

Inspired by Remy Zero's Bitter

Just one more day when it’s already been too long. And the sea is forming shackles to deliver. And I came to a resting place

I tried to take just a taste.

Sam's P.O.V

Smallville

I feel a thrill through my veins as Dean and I cause havoc around the town of Smallville. We were supposed to come here to hunt but we don't seem to care now. I down another bottle of this addictive local brew red as we walk down the street. Dean smirks at me as he vandalizes the car next to us. That's when I spotted a woman in a black dress with the most stunning pair of green eyes. Her red hair blew slightly in the wind.

I motion for Dean to follow me. 

"Do you want to have a drink and have sex with me? No? What about just sex?" I said.

"We aren't in the bar sir but oddly I am turned on by the pickup line. I'm Enna by the way." Enna replied with a smirk.

"Sam," I said curtly"

Enna looks over to Dean and motions for him to follow us as she pulls me towards her truck. We take her truck down to an empty field.

Seems like this woman likes to be in charge. I smirk as she strips her clothes before stripping both Dean's and my clothes off. Before standing in front of the truck bed. Enna finally removes her clothes and I lick my lips in response. 

"Sam in front and emerald eyes in my backdoor," Enna said.

" Bossy, I like it. It's Dean, sweetheart." Dean said with a smirk.

Both of us climbed into the truck bed in our designated positions.

Enna pulled us impossibly closer to her before gripping me tightly as we simultaneously filled her.    

 Enna stifles her moans by pressing her lips into my neck. Which is a good thing. We wouldn't want anyone to hear us.  

 The feeling of her clamping around me is otherworldly. Hours have passed, and all of us are covered in sweat and marks. We are beyond sore when Dean and I finally pull out of her. We collapse from exhaustion. I nearly fell out of the truck bed completely forgetting it was open. I laugh at myself. I am not usually this clumsy.

We all quickly redress, and Enna motions for us to join.

“Come, boys, I can think about other ways we can have fun,” Enna said with a smirk

Enna's P.O.V

I've heard of the Winchesters. Heroes in their own right they’ve saved the world multiple times. The descriptions of them don’t do them justice. They are more like gods wrapped in denim and plaid. Lucky me, I've got them when they’ve been corrupted by red kryptonite from local brew

(Red) I've always had a thing for heroes going dark.  Most would try to find a cure for them but I am far from good. I may be from the same planet as hometown hero Clark Kent but that's all we have in common. Dark edgy, a Kryptonian without a soul. As soon as I park, the Winchesters get out of the truck.

 Of their own accord, they loot the local stores. I have a hard time keeping up with them even with my speed. They've gained super speed from the beer. Which is far from normal. Red kryptonite is only supposed to remove morals. Well, it's not my problem I think to myself. Sam comes back with a blue ring. He slips it on my right finger without asking. Seems like someone wants to mark me as their property. I feel something is very wrong as he does so. Dammit, it's blue kryptonite. I can feel my powers ebbing away! The Winchesters leave me there on my knees. Not caring that I am no longer following him. I have no choice but to get back into my truck and go to the town hero for help.

Kent Farmhouse

As I make my way up to the Kent farmhouse, I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. Having morals hasn't been a problem till today. I've lived my life without a rulebook. The Kents hate me. This is the last place I want to be. After, a minor mishap with their son in high school nearly destroyed Clark's future. I got Clark hooked on red kryptonite and he nearly destroyed the town. If it wasn't for Lana and Chloe detoxing him. Clark wouldn't be here today. 

 I reluctantly knock on the door of the old yellow farmhouse. Just my luck he's the one to answer the door. My anxiety just being here is set through the roof now at just his mere presence. Clark rolls his eyes at me but still lets me in. He knows I wouldn't be here if it wasn't serious.

Briefly explaining how I came to meet the Winchesters and how I found them he looks at me in utter disgust.

" So nearly destroying my life wasn't enough. You are doing it again to the men that have been to hell in the back for this world! I'll help you with one condition. Enna you have to drink a gold kryptonite laced beer." Clark said.

He looks at me harshly with his blue eyes. Clark is deadly serious.

He's silently saying I don't deserve powers and I completely agree with him.

I simply nod in response.

"I've got these chambers that Lex built for me before our friendship dissolved. It sucks out the kryptonite from the bloodstream from the steam it creates. Text those Winchesters and follow me." Clark said.

So glad they exchanged numbers with me before they ran off. I text them in the guise of another threesome. Clark takes my phone from me and finishes my text with the location. He hands it back to me before they text me back. Clark has always been a bit of a prude. He definitively would not want to see what they said back. I smirk at the response to my text. Sam texted me back with a smirk emoji and two eggplants. The Winchesters’ minds sure are in the gutter.

Clark helps me slip off the ring Sam placed on me temporarily restoring my powers. He refuses to do any more of the dirty work.

He climbs into my truck with me and directs me toward the underground chambers. I look around the red-lit chambers. This place gives me the creeps. This idea better work.

Once Sam and Dean arrive they both try to pin me down to the floor. I'm faster of course and use all of my strength to knock them out and throw them into their respective chambers.

Once Sam and Dean arrive they both try to pin me down to the floor. I'm faster of course and manage to use all of my strength to knock them out and throw them into their respective chambers.

Clark uses the control panel to close the door and start the long detox task. 

I don't know how much time has passed but a strong hand nudges me awake from my position on the floor. 

"Enna wake up dear," Sam said.

Sam tries to help me up but I refuse and get up by myself.

I look around and find Clark gone and a beer with my name on it left in his place.

"I bet you are and Dean want nothing to do with me now. I'll just go." I replied. As I turned to walk away Dean spun me back around.

"Look sweetheart you did the right thing in the end. Sam and I talked before we woke you. We can't deny that we feel this pull towards you and we'd like to give you a second chance." Dean said.

Both of them look at me with hope in their eyes.

"If we are going to do this right. I have to do one thing first." I replied.

I grab the beer Clark left for me. They both stare at me wide-eyed and try to stop me as soon as they realize what I am doing. I know this is for the best. I've caused nothing but destruction with my powers. The gold kryptonite beer tasted horrible on my tongue. I feel my powers ebbing away permanently.

Sam, Dean and I shared sweet kisses before we headed to Dean's impala. It's such a stunning car. I can't wait to see what's next in store for us. First things first though we have to fix the destruction we’ve caused the town before heading back to their place.

Bitter Just one more day when its already been too long