#foam-flecked

[druidshollow]

they MIGHT have taken over my brain for the better half of the day

AUGH NUG AWWWW WAAAHHHH WAH WAH WAH

your art is so expressive this is so fun omg thank you so mcuh curls up and shrieks

rivers DOES need a nap. a very very long one lmao. i love the eepyrator propaganda they 100% all sleep in a stupid pile

sorry dune killed your guy LMAO..... shes kinda like that. cant take that bitch Anywhere

[jacks-archive]

Sunbeam Waves

Shadow/Clay/Peach

[msb-lair]

Clutch #3062 - Eucalyptus/Boab

Mated On: 2022-12-05 # of eggs: 3 Hatched On: 2022-12-10

Progeny:

Hatchling 8094 (Druyd) - Tundra Male, Hickory Tide/Honeydew Myrid/Thicket Flecks, Faceted - 50 gems on 2022-12-10

Hatchling 8095 - Guardian Female, Latte Ground/Pear Foam/Honeydew Flecks, Bright - 15 gems on 2022-12-25

Hatchling 8096 - Tundra Female, Driftwood Tide/Jungle Foam/Forest Flecks, Pastel - 15 gems on 2022-12-18

Comments:

[dragonbleps-fr]

i am on. my very first dragon in my lair, scrying with Tide/Foam. and there are already too many cool combinations to choose from if i decided to change him kljhjshjfdhg

Top two are him now

[yoshistory]

I THINK olive got peepee on her e-collar so I'm emergency cleaning real quick and throwing into the dryer to see if that. Fixes it. Idk if it'll have time to dry through my lunch break ...

[dilftaroooo]

hii new anon🎀

ex-boyfriend gojo who has an obsession over you and has been following you around. you’ve “moved on” and invite a man to hookup but he just couldn’t make u cum. as soon as the guy leaves gojo comes over and fucks you dumb.

>.<

gojo being on the sidelines before coming in to finish the job is kinda crazy. i can imagine he followed u from the bar you were in before leaning near the door to your apartment. waiting for your hookup to leave.

★tags/tw: stalking + toxicity + bathtub sex + he fucks u with his clothes on while ur bathing + fem!reader w she/her pronouns + nipple play + unprotected sex + unsatisfied sex (with ur hookup) + ummm home invasion but not, really?? + idfk I'm not a judge + gojo kinda comes in unannounced + attempt at proofread bc im sleepy so some shit might look janky.

The small dicked fucker left as soon as he spurted over your abdomen, the runny substance cascades through the crease between the start of your thighs and the edge of your pussy, which, hasn't released a drop of arousal the whole night.

The man you hooked up with had to blow a glob of spit onto your folds before he'd rub a finger on your make-believe clit, 'Yeah, know you like that. You came to the right person, sweet thing'. Why did you even bring him over? He's not even doing this shit properly. You're sure he wouldn't know where your clit laid even if you made a map and pointed it out for him. If you're gonna be cocky at least do it right.

Your hot bath gave you more pleasure since it was the perfect ratio of water to bubbles. The white foam didn't completely submerge you and you took the time to let the liquid stray you from your mind while listening to the sound of bubbles crunching from around.

Apparently, smelling the medicinal aroma of eucalyptus must've blurred the taps of footsteps making their way into your apartment and into your master bathroom.

"There she is. Taking a bath already? Your one-time fling came here, what, not over ten minutes ago and left? I'm sure you had the night of your life." The mockery in the intruder's tone was evident with each word he spoke.

His hair was still the absence of color, resembling the white sheets stacked high at the corner of your room. His skin was pale and somewhat glossy with expensive moisturizer. Aqua spheres were decorated with flecks of adorable baby blue. He's buff, perhaps buffer than the last time you saw him. But most of everything was unchanged.

He squats next to your incredulous as well as vulnerable figure in the ivory porcelain of your bathtub.

"How'd you get in here?" You inquiry.

"It's no good to leave the keys to your apartment under that more than obvious vase next to your front door. It's corny and you can get robbed that way too." He takes a peek at nipples covered by a translucent blanket. The bubbles had disintegrated leaving you exposed from the lack of foam.

You forgot he knows about the key underneath your grandmother's vase. You're the one who told him about it and you silently wish you hadn't.

"Well, congratulations on committing a federal crime. Now leave, Satoru."

"Oh, but darling you trusted me enough to tell me about those keys so I'm doing nothing wrong. Now, enlighten me, did that guy make you come so hard that he had you seeing stars?"

The lukewarm water kisses your pores in an attempt to soothe your beating heart. The scent of your ex was still riddled with that same lustful scent of mint and cinnamon, a cologne that you remember gifting him for the sole reason of how arousing it was paired with taut muscles and blue eyes.

You felt like a needy omega, shaking in the comfort of your den as your eyes water at the sight of your alpha and cowering at the pheromones leaking off his body and into your awaiting nostrils. He smells so fucking good.

"I know you heard me, sugar plum." You won't forget how much he loved to jeer at you. He wanted to hear you admit how much of a bad fuck your hookup was and how he didn't even get you to come. How you wished it was Satoru that took his place and filled your achy cunt til his balls smack your ass.

You adjust your seating when a warm palm engulfs your cheek whole. Not a trace of your skin color reveals itself under Satoru's hand. He's big even when squatting down to your size. The scowl on your face juxtaposes the grin on Satoru's.

"That's none of your business. We're not together anymore. Stop riding my dick."

"Though I do love a good ride, I think it's you who wants to do the riding, sweetheart."

Fingers crawl over your neck, down to the tops of your breasts, and onto your perky nipples. He continues to tease you by drawing circles around them making you tremble with unadulterated desire.

"Am I wrong? You can't even look me in my eyes. Bet you're not even aware of how heavy you're breathing. Poor girl. He didn't give you what you wanted. Say it." It almost sounded commanding if not for the lithe of his voice

"Fuck, hah, fuck you, Satoru..." The man cheeses.

"Right now?"

"Shit, yes."

"Knew you’d come around."

His patience must've ran thin because he didn't even bother taking his clothes off. Only unzipping his flyer to pull out his aroused dick and fleshy balls before joining you in the now cold water.

You were still his pretty princess as you took him in deep into your cavern, the bath water that surrounded you sloshed with every dominant thrust Satoru pounded you with and you did nothing but moan the name of your supposed ex like a vintage record player.

"Was he able to reach that spot that you liked hit, baby?"

"Mm-mm." You muffled.

"And why is that, huh?" His cock has that cute upturn that repeatedly nudges at your slimy walls which encourages your arousal to spill and combine with the bath water. You were better off taking a shower.

"Because he wasn't you." Your words came out in increments as he beats your pussy raw. The sound of almost every syllable slurred like a drunken man's tongue.

"That's it. You got it now, darling. You still missed me, didn’t you?" The fabric of his clothes is now soaked due to his stubbornness but there was no room for complaints when cotton and denim cling to jutting muscles. The pink of his areolas revealed itself under wet clothes. His nipples were as hard as yours. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

[waves-against-a-cliff]

She-Wolf - Feral!Reader x Ghost

Content Warnings - Violence, blood, descriptions of murder, smut, afab!fem!reader

Description - Soap notices something new about Ghost.

A/N - here it is @groguspicklejar I finally made it.

That's new.

Soap has never seen that before. In the military you get used to the general disregard for privacy. You shower together, sleep in the same place together, eat together and bleed together. So Soap has gotten used to the bodies of those around him. But also, he's always noticed when things on his teammates' bodies changed.

Like when Gaz got that new scar on his thigh. And like now, with a tattoo on Ghost. Which is odd, he's never seen a new one on him before, always that same sleeve. Weirder still... Is that a tattoo of a bite on his left arse cheek?

For a moment, Soap thinks his eyes are deceiving him so he rubs them. Ah fuck- his hands had soap on them. Fuckfuckfuck. He rinses his eyes out and then looks over at Ghosts arse again. No, that's definitely a tattoo of a bite, a nasty one too. Like someone just tried to get as much as his arse cheek in his mouth at once.

Soap jabs Gaz in the ribs, "What the fuck?" Gaz hissed but Soap redirects his attention.

"Do you see that?'

"Ghosts ass? Yes I've seen it before." Gaz replies but Soap shakes his head.

"No you dumb fuck, look closer."

Gaz squints and gasps. "Oh my God."

Soap grins at him, "I know. Hold on, I'm gonna ask him about it."

"Soap-"

"Hey LT." Ghost turns his head, a single brow raised. Soap had never been more grateful that Ghost had decided to suck up the communal showers. For both this moment and not having to deal with the vague smell of his BO on the flight back to the U.K. “What's with the new tattoo?”

“Yeah my girl’s a biter.” It's said so simply, Ghost turns and resumes washing himself. The soap suds run down his body and into the drain. Like he didn’t just say the most confusing shite ever.

“What?” Gaz laughs, “A biter?” Ghost shrugs and it dawns on Soap that he’s going to pull that classic Ghost move of saying out of pocket shite ever and then not elaborate.

A few months pass and Soap would like to say that he’s forgotten about it. That the bite mark tattoo did not haunt him and he didn’t- doesn’t- look at Ghost’s left butt cheek and wonder. Then they get a new mission and its all hands on deck, another task force joins in. Task force Medea. The 141 had worked with them a few times in the past, all very successful missions. The Medea task force was made up of seven women with varying skills but one always came to mind whenever Soap thought of the task force his mind wandered to She-wolf.

You’re wild, feral almost to a degree that makes him wonder how you managed to stay in the military. But your team members love you and when you’re not gnawing at the collar your captain tries to keep on you, you’re an amazing soldier.

“For this mission,” Price begins, standing at the head of the meeting table. On one side is Gaz, Ghost, and him. On the other is you and three other members of your task force (Viper, Circe and Artemis). Soap splits his attention between Price’s briefing (A terrorist group and cartel are working together to smuggle both weapons and people across the Polish and the Slovakian border) and you. You’re tapping your finger inaudibly, you keep glancing between Price and Ghost.

Despite having worked with you before, Soap tends to forget the gruesome details. Viper and Circe were brutal in their own right, both combining their skills to gas out anyone in the building, Artemis and Ghost picked off the ones that fled. Now it was down to you and Soap to help clear out the building of any stragglers. Soap knew he was good at clearing rooms, it's how he got his call sign after all. But much like your call sign, you were a wolf. Predatory, sneaky and brutal. If you were a dog, he was sure you would be foaming at the mouth.

Soap tries not to focus on the gory details of your current appearance, (blood flecks on your face, hands soaked with blood after you gutted a man twice your size like a fish, blood smears on your pant legs from a man choking on his own blood and grasping for any sort of life line while you sneer at him), and instead clearing out the last room. 

“Steamin’ jesus.” Soap mutters and Gaz noticeably averts his eyes. Ghost, however, sighs.

“Lieutenant.” You chirp as Viper hands you something to clean your face with.

“Do you ever not make a mess She-Wolf?” Ghost asks and you bark out a laugh as you wipe the dried blood from your face.

“Nope.” You quip as he just sighs and Soap turns his attention to Gaz who is certainly not looking like he was enjoying this any more then he was.

Your fingers dig into his pecs as you pant, your thighs, already sore from the mission, scream. “Did you like seeing me like that?” You ask between pants as you bounce on Ghost’s thick cock. You swear you can feel every detail of it, the veins rubbing against your walls, his tip constantly swiping against your g-spot and the very weight of him. “Did you like seeing me covered in blood?” You ask again as his hands dig into the meat of your hips. You stare down into his eyes that are swallowed up by his blown out pupils as he nods, a whimper crawls up his throat as your nails dig into him further.

You lean over and scrape your teeth against the junction between his shoulder and neck, you revel in the way he shudders. You bite down right as the thread snaps inside you and you gush all over his cock. Your moan around him as your pussy pulses rhythmically around him, your hips slow only for a moment. Instead you grind your hips against his as the last few shocks of your orgasm echo through your body. Ghost doesn’t move as you ravish him further in marks all over him. You love that about him, that no one will know these marks are here but you. He covers himself up a nun and only you know that he’s under you every time.

Only you know that his voice cracks and he throws his head back as he fills you. “Fuuuckkk.” He whimpers, his voice cracking and breaking. Only you know this view, of tears nearly spilling from his eyes as his chest rises and falls faster as you push him further towards overstimulation. When your hips finally stop you collapse onto his chest, he holds you close as you trace the multitude of bite marks and crescent nail marks.

“Wish we got to see each other more often.” You whisper.

“We’ll see each other when leave comes around.” Ghost- Simon, reassures you.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that little tattoo you have.” You tease and pinch his vulnerable nipple. He hisses and smacks your hand away while you giggle.

[spurbleu]

gonna be thinkin abt lifeguard soapgaz all day actually.

ripped, wearing the smallest shorts you’ve ever seen, dark aviators casting a red hue on the bridge of their nose. wet everywhere. from sweat, sunscreen, or the water, you’re unsure- but it makes the tanned skin look extra delicious- kissing egypt rays in the late afternoon.

gaz sitting on the watch tower, swinging back his third bottle of electrolyte water, looking down when one of the legs shake. soap nudges the old wood, pointing out to the shore.

a bird, ankles clipped by the white foam that licks up her calves, slick in salt. crawls to her towel, sand stamped to the plush of her ass and shoulders in little flecks of rum and gold.

they grin at each other.

doesn’t take long for all three of them to be shagging in the bathroom stalls. hot sweaty bodies threading in a salivating tangle of limbs, the dingy shack fighting collapse and breaching the slew of moans the burrow from out the stall gap.

[shotmrmiller]

Simon just looms and that’s the most nonviolent move he makes. Looms. How’d he get in? We don’t know. He doesn’t look like he’s following you around. He just stands there like Lurch and then when you go somewhere else he just looms until you get bored or horny or both.

i cackled at the 'most nonviolent move he makes' omfg

he's the type to go out with the boys or whatever and you stay in because you're tired/early morning/you already exfoliated and if he thinks you're primping up just to rot in a worn leather booth to drink piss-like beer and have him acting like a foam-flecked rabid territorial mongrel over a random giving you a 2-second glance across the joint he's insane

and then comes home late, not overly so, just late enough to where even if you tried to stay up and wait for him you couldn't. you're passed tf out on the couch with your murder docuseries on the tv, or curled up in bed with your book covering half your face and he's

looming.

standing by the doorway, his presence darker than the room itself. of course your eyes snap open you feel watched. unseen eyes weighing heavy, leaden, on your chest. as does your rapid beating heart.

and then he speaks. slurs, more like. "'ren't ya s'pposed t'be asleep?"

[ineffabildaddy]

i have waited

(crowley pov poem - warning for suggestive content!)

-

I have waited for you, angel

As woman, as man

As both, sometimes

Red-lipped and hard as anything

Or a drag of lace under gathered breeches

Dew-flecked with my cloudbursts of want

I have waited as neither, a blank page

Fluttering in the breeze from the open window

While you dip your pen in your inkwell

I have waited for you, angel

As a young girl shuns the sunshine of an August afternoon

To sit by the phone until it rings three times

Or, indeed, until darkness falls at last

I have waited for you like an old man

Longing for a death which refuses to come

He sits on park benches and wonders

How he must endure the commotion of life

Just when his soul has found quiet

I have waited for you, angel

As an ocean wave

Which suddenly knows it shall dissolve into foam

Crashes harder than intended on the sand at the prospect of it

I have waited for you

In taverns, coffee houses, glittering ballrooms

In bookshops, in bookshops, in bookshops

On faded rugs and felt-covered armchairs

I have waited with the patience required to finish a Tolstoy

And the hunger that stabs as one devours a great mystery

I have waited for you, angel

Under the stars on a clear night

Thighs trembling around my own crooked fingers

I have waited for you, also

In the solace of my bedchambers

Twisting silk sheets across my chest

So they might soothe the ache beneath my ribs

I have waited for you, angel

In the lodging rooms of country inns

Even as I land face first on a bed of straw

And bend my knees before a brooding stranger

I have waited for you, angel

At the courts of countless monarchs

Arching my back like a good mistress

As one man pulls at the string of my corset

And another knocks over his silver chalice

I waited for you, angel

In a Soho pub over bottles of Talisker

A book by my side, kept as a souvenir

I waited for you, again

One elbow leaning on the Bentley

My glasses fogging up as you retreated one last time

I have waited for you, angel

Since before the stars began

Since the world was merely a funny idea

Which made cherubs giggle and archangels whisper

I have waited for you, angel

For years beyond counting

I can wait a little longer

You know where I am

-

thank you so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are endlessly treasured<3

also available to read on ao3 here!

this work is a gift for @foolishlovers and @omens-for-ophelia <3

tagging the usual suspects: @bowtiepastabitch @sabotage-on-mercury @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @tangerine-ginger @greenthena @and-his-hands-were-24-crows @amagnificentobsession @iammyownproblematicfave @ineffable-rohese @cottagecore-raccoon @crowleyholmes @createserenity @queer-reader-07 @nimbusalba @adverbian @ingenio-ira

pls let me know if u want to be added or removed from my taglist!

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 13: Room Service (Bath Sex)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: Medic treats you to a surprise to make up for some past incidents (can be read as a sequel to the 27th chapter of my very first Kinktober series!)

Tags: Bath sex, fingering, oral, aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

The Masterlist

The hotel elevator could not possibly be any slower. As if the fact that the staff had forgotten to stock your room with toiletries wasn’t enough, not to mention the non-existent room service. The phone in your room didn’t even ring when you tried to call the front desk. You had needed to go out to get some of the bare necessities. The bag of travel sized shampoo and conditioner felt heavy in your hand. Thankfully there was a convenience store just next door.

Finally the elevator arrived on your floor, and you reached your room, unlocking it with a click. You entered to find Medic reclined in a chair, reading a book, or rather, pretending to read a book. How did you know he was pretending? Well, Medic hadn’t packed any books on this trip, and the only one available in the hotel room was the Bible. You had a feeling that a man who had sold several souls to Satan wouldn’t have much use for such a thing.

“Ah, you’re back!” Medic said, tossing the religious text onto a nearby table without a care.

“Yeah, finally. That damn elevator…” you muttered a few curses to yourself.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Medic rushed forward, taking the bag from you. “Here, let me take this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Poor thing? That’s a bit much.”

Medic laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound. His joy was contagious. Even when the two of you were on the battlefield together, he could make you laugh alongside him. “I suppose that’s true. You are quite capable of dealing with such a minor inconvenience,” he said. You met Medic’s gaze. He was grinning, and his gaze was lit up with something you knew all too well.

“Oh no,” you said. “You’ve done something.”

Medic had the decency to look taken aback, albeit poorly. You knew him too well, and you knew that look. It was the same look he had when he told you about his exploits in sewing baboon uteruses into his colleagues. It was the same look he had when he transplanted a would-be mugger’s brain into a pumpkin. You probably would have also noticed that same look on his face as he performed your heart operation for the Ubercharge when you two had first met, but you were a bit distracted by the fact that one of your vital organs had just burst in his hands. It was a look that meant, ‘I know something you don’t know.’

“Perhaps I have,” Medic said, grinning even wider before clearing his throat. “I’ve planned a little something for you, liebe.”

“Really?” You were still suspicious. There was still a chance that this ‘little something’ might involve impromptu surgery.

“Since we spent our previous vacation days smuggling exotic animal organs-”

“Yes, I remember the whale liver,” you said. “Vividly.”

“Of course,” Medic said with a nervous laugh. “Well, I wanted to make it up to you.”

“Oh, is that so?” Medic didn’t respond, wordlessly leading you to the bathroom. Even though you had been assured that this was not an organ smuggling trip, part of you expected to see a basin full of viscera on ice behind the bathroom door. Instead, you were met with a jacuzzi tub filled with warm water and bubbles. Rose petals floated on the surface, dappling the soap foam with flecks of crimson. You picked one up, feeling it between your fingers. Sure enough, they were quite real.

“Well, liebchen?” Medic asked, motioning towards the scene before you. You were pleasantly surprised, to say the least, but unsure of what to say. After a bit of pondering you ultimately settled on a simple question.

“Where did you get real rose petals?”

“I borrowed them from Spy,” Medic said, looking very proud of himself. You gave him a skeptical look.

“Borrowed?”

His composure faltered with a nervous laugh. “Aheh- well, more like, borrowed without him knowing…”

You sighed. Medic had always been one to follow the ‘ask for forgiveness, not for permission’ philosophy. That usually applied when he was sewing baboon uteruses into unsuspecting men, however it apparently applied to petty rose petal theft as well. You also couldn’t help but wonder why the hell Spy just happened to have a stash of fresh rose petals ready to go in the middle of a war zone, but those were questions for later.

You kissed him suddenly. It was nothing more than a quick peck, but it succeeded in flustering Medic enough to make his cheeks go pink. “Thank you for this,” you said, smiling up at him. He returned your smile before pulling you back in for another kiss, this one much more passionate. “Medic,” you gasped when the two of you finally parted. “You hid the hotel toiletries, didn’t you?”

“Well, I needed some way to get you out of the room for a while,” he admitted.

“And the lack of room service?” you asked.

“I just unplugged the phone.”

“Devious,” you chuckled, a bit ashamed that you hadn’t thought to check the plug in the first place. Then again, if you had, you probably wouldn’t have had this. “Well, I’d better make use of this bath before it gets cold, shouldn’t I?”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t put on a bit of a show for him as you undressed. The way you shimmied your pants down your legs with a little extra sway of your hips was especially bold. The shirt came off, your underwear and bra were thrown to the floor, and eventually you were fully undressed in front of the tub. Medic stared at the display with rapt attention, eyes darting between you and the pile of discarded clothes left upon the tile floor.

A soft laugh escaped you as you entered the tub. You could see the way Medic’s gaze raked over your body as you submerged yourself in the water, bubbles and froth just barely covering your chest. Medic let out a shaky breath as you began to settle into the water. His staring was anything but subtle.

“Are you going to join me?” you asked, smirking back at him and kicking your legs lazily in the spacious tub. “There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. Come here, lean against the edge for me.”

“Alright,” you said, a little confused but curious. You sat back against the side of the tub, facing away from Medic. His hands came to rest on your shoulders for a moment before starting to rub gently, yet firmly. “Oh!” You gasped as he began to work the muscles, easing the tension out of your shoulders and then moving to your collar and around your neck. “Oh, that’s really nice.”

“I thought you might like this,” Medic said, sounding quite proud of himself. His medical knowledge was coming in handy as well. He knew just which muscles to focus on, and how to soothe the tension out of them. “Lean forward just a little. That way I can get your back as well.”

You did as he said, trying not to shiver as his fingers worked up your spine. His palms then splayed out over your upper back, massaging, caressing, and making you sigh with every delicate touch. Oh, those sounds you were making, so reminiscent of something far less wholesome. Medic reminded himself to be patient. He would get to that soon enough. The first order of business was to warm you up and relax your body.

The heels of his hands pressed hard along the middle of your back, working out an especially stubborn knot of tense muscle. That effort rewarded him with an outright moan. It sure as hell didn’t make it any easier for Medic to keep his cool. After a few deep breaths, he pulled his hands away. You heard the distinctive pop of a bottle opening, but before you could turn around, his hands were back, now massaging your scalp and working up a lather with some shampoo. You took a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of the soap as it reached you. There were notes of something floral, perhaps lavender.

When he was done, you dipped your head beneath the water, rinsing the soap out before letting him move on to the conditioner. He worked that product through your hair with just as much diligence. You could get used to being pampered like this, however a subtle twinge of desire chipped away at your mind. This whole situation- being washed by your lover, your naked body barely concealed by frothy bubbles- was undeniably intimate. It led your mind to wander.

“Your face is red, liebling,” Medic said, ever observant. “Is the water too hot?”

His question sounded so damn innocent, and it probably was. You weren’t worked up enough for him to start outright teasing you yet. “No, it’s not too hot,” you said. “It’s perfect, this is all perfect.”

Medic cupped your cheek, turning your face until he could lean down to kiss you. He was surprisingly chaste, going slow and soft, feeling the heat radiating off of you. Oh he definitely knew why you were blushing now. He parted from you with a soft gasp. “Do you want me to touch you, schatz?”

You stammered, tongue tied and flustered beyond belief. “You are touching me,” you said, mentally slapping yourself for giving such a deadpan answer. “I mean, you were. The massage, and washing me, and-”

“You know what I really mean,” Medic laughed.

He was right. You knew exactly what he meant, and you knew exactly what you wanted. Getting the words out was the challenging part. You took a deep breath. “I would like that,” you said, miraculously managing to keep your voice steady. “Please.”

He pushed his sleeves up higher before dipping an arm into the water. “Lean back, liebchen.” You rested your head against the edge of the bathtub. He began by caressing your thighs before letting his fingers brush over your entrance. Just that small gesture made you buck forward slightly. “Ooh, so sensitive!” Medic teased. You trapped your lower lip between your teeth to smother any embarrassing noises as he began to rub slow circles over your clit.

Medic leaned forward against the side of the bathtub, his head next to yours, his chin resting on your shoulder. You shivered when his stubble brushed against your neck. He knew how ticklish you were, smiling to himself when he managed to draw out a barely restrained giggle that ultimately devolved into a moan. You were so soft, melting into his touch like butter. Both the steam from the bath and your own arousal colored your cheeks, giving you a perpetual blush. It was an adorable look for you.

Trying to take things a step further, Medic began to press into you. Usually you would be quite wet enough to take two fingers, but just one caused you to pull back with a wince. It seemed that the bath water ironically hindered any attempt at penetration. So much for water equating to wetness, at least, not the kind of wetness you needed. “Sorry,” you apologized. “Here, maybe if I get out-”

“Nein, it’s perfectly fine, liebe.” Medic placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from leaving the warm embrace of the bath. “Would you like to keep going as we were before?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It felt nice with you just touching me.” Medic smiled, eager to return to pampering his little dove.

Soft gasps and sweet little moans escaped you as he returned to circling your clit, barely touching it enough to get a reaction. His free hand joined the fray, massaging your chest and brushing against your nipples. You bit your lip as Medic took full advantage of how sensitive they were.

“Don’t be shy,” Medic whispered, his lips close to your ear. “Let me know how good you feel.” You let a louder moan slip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You would have gone even redder if you could see the self-satisfied grin Medic was sporting. From behind, he began to kiss the nape of your neck, moving along your collarbone every so often, whispering soft praises and sweet nothings. “Sehr schön, you look so beautiful like this, liebchen. Just relax, let your doctor take care of you.”

Well, you were nothing if not obedient. You let Medic have his way with you while you just sat back and enjoyed the ride, surrounded by warm water dotted with iridescent bubbles. Said water began to ripple as your breath started to quiver, chest rising and falling at a faster and faster pace. You squirmed, unable to keep the slight tremor out of your muscles. That pleasure was starting to reach a peak, and you couldn’t keep yourself still. Medic took notice, of course, letting his lips brush against your ear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeming genuinely concerned at first. His strokes slowed, but a desperate whine from you quickly confirmed that your squirming was not born of discomfort. His tone shifted. “Ooh, is my little dove getting close?”

You gave a quick nod, whimpering as his pace began to speed up. You wanted this to last longer, but he was so talented with his fingers that holding back was a futile effort.

“I’ve got you, just let go.” You felt his arm wrap around your body and a pair of lips pressed against your cheek right before your resistance caved and your orgasm overtook you. Medic held you close, barely paying any mind to the way the bath water spilled over onto the floor as you shuddered and arched back against the tub. “That’s it. Gott, you’re so beautiful, so soft,” he murmured. His strokes eased up before stopping completely. The gentle pressure of his arm around you kept you grounded as you came down from the high.

Your eyes fell closed and you lost track of where Medic’s hands roamed. One caressed your chest, momentarily squeezing one of your breasts and making you gasp. Leaning back, you rested your head on his shoulder only to find that you were met with damp fabric. “Fuck, I splashed water on you, didn’t I?” you sighed. “Sorry.”

Medic laughed softly. “It’s fine, liebe.” It was humorous that you thought a little water was of any concern. After all, you had seen him splattered with blood and viscera both on the battlefield and in his operating room countless times. Then again, you were rather out of it at the moment, still basking in the afterglow.

“Can you help me get out?” you asked after a moment, noticing that the water was beginning to turn cold. “I’m not sure my legs will hold.”

Medic offered you his arm, supporting your weight as you hoisted yourself out of the water. He reached in, pulling the drain plug and letting the soapy water slowly spiral down. A soft towel was draped over your shoulders, its plush texture protecting you from any chill. Your mind felt delightfully hazy, simply enjoying that post-orgasm bliss. It was only when Medic stripped his wet shirt off that you snapped back to attention, not about to miss a chance to admire that sight. It was only when he proceeded to kneel between your legs that you realized he may have more than just eye candy in store.

All you managed to say when he gently pushed your thighs apart was a surprised, “Oh.”

He smiled up at you, head tilted like a curious puppy. It was an ironically adorable look for a man as dangerous as him. “Again?” he asked, no further words needing to be spoken for you to understand his meaning.

“If you want to,” you said, spreading your legs slightly wider with a smirk.

Medic mirrored your expression, resting his hands on your thighs and gently massaging the soft flesh. “Let me make you feel good, Liebchen.”

You saw it coming, but the sensation of his tongue lapping over your cunt still managed to draw a sharp gasp from you, one which quickly dissolved into a moan when he pushed in deeper. You tried your best not to squirm- mostly because you were seated precariously on the narrow edge of a bathtub. Perhaps this wasn’t the best place for a bit of impromptu cunnilingus, but you weren’t going to say no to Medic’s offer of a second round, and you certainly weren’t going to ask him to stop now.

Every little noise you made seemed to spur him on. Medic was practically burying his face against you, breathing in your scent with every rushed inhale. The rose and lavender from the bath water mixed with your natural aroma, so sweet and intoxicating. Each breath he took was beginning to make his head spin, like he was getting his own personal high- or maybe the pressure of your thighs against his skull was beginning to get to him.

Your climax came on quicker this time, given that you were still quite sensitive. Medic felt you grow slick against his tongue, and he took advantage of it. With newfound ease, he slipped a finger into you, curling it against the spot that he knew would have you seeing stars. If the way you started gasping his name and tugging his hair was any indication, he had found it. You steered him with that death grip on his hair, guiding him up to your clit.

“I’m close,” you whined, cursing under your breath at how quickly he had managed to bring you to the edge. You had hoped to hold out for a little longer.

Any disappointment you may have felt was washed away when your second orgasm of the night hit you with a full body shudder. Medic groaned against you, the subtle vibrations against your clit making you buck forward unexpectedly, nearly tumbling off the edge of your seat. Thankfully, Medic was able to sit up just in time to catch you, pulling you forward to lean against him. You were so dizzy and high on endorphins that he wondered if you even realized how close you had come to toppling backwards into the tub. Based on the dazed grin you currently wore, you either didn’t know or didn’t care.

“Careful, liebling,” Medic said. “We don’t want you getting hurt.”

You giggled, throwing your arms over his shoulders. “It’s a good thing a doctor isn’t too far away. Well, ex-doctor.”

Medic rolled his eyes, chuckling softly at your little quip. He sat you back on the edge of the tub, making sure you were steady before he began to dry you off with the towel he had draped over your shoulders earlier. You were mostly dry already, with Medic just giving you a quick once over. By the time he was done you were already being overcome with a gradual, pleasant euphoria, the second afterglow beginning to settle over you.

Noticing that you were beginning to drift, Medic led you out of the bathroom. You leaned heavily on him, grateful to finally set foot on the carpeted floor and no longer be subjected to the potentially slippery tile of the bathroom. However, you immediately began to shiver when exposed to the cold hotel room air. Why these establishments felt the need to constantly blast the air conditioning, you would never know.

“Let’s get you under the covers,” Medic said, guiding you to the bed where you immediately collapsed into the mattress. The pillow was cool against your burning cheeks. You heard the sound of the television across the room being turned on, the volume down low, just enough to offer a bit of ambient noise. Medic knew you too well, and that included the fact that you struggled to sleep in complete silence. Something about the total lack of noise felt oppressive, probably because you had long since gotten used to the chaos of your home base.

A content sigh was the only sound that left you when Medic settled in beside you, pulling you to his chest and letting you relax into the warmth of his body. He pulled the covers up around the two of you, and eventually your shivering ebbed. “Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open, liebchen,” Medic crooned, watching you try and fail to blink away the fatigue.

“I should do something-” you said, drowsily, interrupting yourself with a yawn. “You know, something to return the favor for all of this, to make you feel good too.”

“You don’t need to repay me for anything. This was all about you.” Medic kissed your forehead, his fingers combing through your hair and brushing over your scalp in a way that broke your resolve to stay awake. You let your eyes fall shut, finally admitting defeat in your losing battle with the allure of sleep. “That’s it, rest now, liebchen. We can sleep in for as long as we want tomorrow.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were practically asleep before he even finished his sentence.

[thepenultimateword]

Sugar and Spice

Henchman dusted the flour off his hands and gave the spiced apple mixture a quick stir. Looked like the juices were releasing nicely with the sugar. This should be a perfectly gooey filling once he finished the crust.

He set out the first pie pan and had just picked up the dough when the double kitchen doors shrieked open. "Henchman, you're needed in the weapons room for cleaning."

Henchman barely gave Other Villain a glance. "Um...no?"

"Excuse me?"

He pressed the pie dough into the pan and took up a knife to trim the excess. "I'm supposed to finish 12 pies before dinner. If I leave the kitchen, I won't meet my deadline. Besides, weapons isn't my department."

"You're department is doing what you're told."

"And if Supervillain doesn't get his pies for the dinner tonight are you going to take responsibility?"

Other Villain's whole body quivered, and the next sentences came out through gritted teeth as if holding herself back from exploding. With her combustion abilities, she just might be. "The weapon's combat team failed another mission. They've been entirely dispatched. If you don't want to follow in their footsteps, I suggest you listen to your superior before I report you for insubordination."

Henchman sighed heavily but set aside the trimmed crust and ran his hands under the sink faucet, scalding away all the crusted flour. He hated it when people pulled the "villain" card. As if the title meant anything more than their abilities being active rather than passive. But until big bosses like Supervillain stopped treating combat abilities as the bar for worth, Henchman couldn't do much about the system's power dynamics. "Can I expect help? I can't spare more than an hour."

Other Villain gave a self-satisfied smile, quickly followed by an annoyed glance at Henchman. "I'll attempt to siphon help from a few other departments, but it may take some time."

Henchman sighed again. "Of course." He placed the bowl of apples in the fridge, pulling his apron over his head and hanging it on the wall hook on his way out the door.

Luckily, all the dough and the fillings were finished, and the oven could fit several pans at a time. He didn't have much faith in Other Villain finding him help--she'd always looked down on the culinary department's contribution even while happily scarfing down booster gelatin before each training session--but perhaps if he gave the weapons room the bare minimum he could make it back before dinner.

That hope disappeared as soon as he entered the weapons room. It was like no one had cleaned it once since the organization was established. Pockmarked targets and half-crushed practice dummies strewed the room. Weapons stuck into walls or laid discarded on the floor. Some were even dispersed throughout the tiered seating area. Henchman scooped up a scimitar by its hilt. Tsking as he twirled it in his hand. They didn't even properly clean--Was that blood?

Henchman dropped the weapon with a loud clatter. His insides chilled as he took in the rust-colored flecks spattering the flat of the blade. Not so much like a weapon that had met flesh as one that had tasted the aftermath of its owner's demise before it could even defend them. Similarly colored smears decorated the walls and flooring.

Other Villain's comment about the latest weapons team's fate rang through Henchman's mind, and suddenly the mess didn't seem so much their fault. Henchman didn't want to think about what actually went down here, and even if he did he shouldn't dare.

Ok, Henchman. Get in, get out, bake your pies.

First thing first, collect all the weapons dispersed throughout the room. Henchman picked up a pair of spears, wrenching one out of a thick practice mat with a spray of foam. He sighed. More mess.

He threw down the spears against the wall and moved for a half-crumpled metal shield. Did Supervillain come personally? No, don't think. That wasn't his job. As much as he hated Other Villain's attitude, she wasn't entirely wrong. His job was to do what he was told, with as little inquiry as possible.

He found an empty quiver at the top of the bleachers, the arrows scattered in tiny pieces among the seats. He'd have to get a broom for those later. But where was the bow? He ducked down to peer under benches but other than a snapped bow string and some close-up splatter that was definitely blood, he found nothing. Maybe it got thrown to the bottom when Supervillain...did what Supervillain did to "parasites."

Henchman skipped the steps two at a time, picking up a dagger teetering haphazardly over the edge of a bench along the way. He jumped down to the training mat with a loud POFF! Loud enough that he didn't notice the sound of the door opening until the flame-haired figure was almost right in front of him. Her hair was pulled into its usual thick braid crown, wound and wound like an endless coil of rope. Meanwhile, she stood on edge, a dog ready to attack, double-colored eyes flicking rabidly around the room. Finding Henchman the room's sole occupant, they eventually settled hungrily on him.

Henchman's heart skipped a beat, clutching the dagger in both hands, tip down, in front of them. "Sir? Er, Ma'am? Villain?"

The green eye looked ready to skin him, while the brown one spun webs of thought.

"Did...Other Villain send you?" Henchman could cringe at the ridiculous question, Villain outranked Other Villain by about a quadrillion stations, but he couldn't think of any other reason why she would be here.

"You're a henchman, right?" she said.

"Um...yes?"

Her gaze flicked to the dagger in his hands, and she turned on heel back toward the door. "Come with me."

Henchman blinked. What was up with villains being bossy today? Well, he took pissing off Villain much more seriously than Other Villain. Maybe she had further instructions for dealing with this mess. Or maybe he wasn't supposed to see this mess, and she'd been sent to deal with him. In any case, he couldn't say no, so he trailed numbly after her into the hall.

She didn't stop there, leading him around several bends, all the way to the stairwell, and down several flights of stairs. When they emerged they were on ground level.

Henchman scrambled to keep up with her stride out the door and into the parking lot. "Um, eminence," Henchman panted, finally remembering the correct title, "do you need help carrying some things upstairs? I could call you a couple runners if you need."

Villain popped open the passenger door to a steel blue coupe. "Get in."

Henchman obeyed on instinct. "Um--"

Villain closed the door on his question, circling around the front of the vehicle and sliding into the driver's seat. She jammed the keys into the ignition and roared the engine to life.

"Wait, are we leaving?" Henchman exclaimed, jolting out of his dronish obedience. Cleaning the weapons room was one thing, but leaving the building to who knew where was another. He really didn't want to be killed for completing neither of his responsibilities today.

"We have somewhere to be," Villain said, eyes fixed straight ahead as she wove through the lot. As she turned out on the main road, the car went from 10 to 100 in a matter of seconds. "A mission."

"But I have work!" Henchman yelped, the acceleration pressing his back into the warm leather seat.

"Not anymore."

"But Supervillain--"

"Has different orders."

Henchman tried to unravel that statement. Supervillain had never wanted him on a mission. This had to be some sort of mistake.

"You're sure?" he said. "Supervillain wants me to go with you?

"Yep."

"Because you kind of made it seem like you didn't know who I was?"

"I don't, I'm working off descriptions."

"Henchman?" Henchman offered. "Did he say Henchman?"

Villain lifted one hand off the wheel, pointing at him with a little knowing tongue click. "That's the one. You're my support."

"Oh." Henchman took a few quiet moments to swallow that. Support made more sense. Maybe this was some sort of away mission. Henchman's bakes didn't pack as much oomph when they were stale, so maybe Supervillain had sent him along for optimum power. It must be something really important if that were the case. But then why didn't anyone inform him? Did Other Villain send him to the weapons room out of spite, hoping he wouldn't be told in time? "What's the mission?"

"Hero agency infiltration. One of the big ones. We're going to have fake identities, safe houses, everything."

Henchman frowned. That sounded like a mission with lots of planning involved, not a spur-of-the-moment run-out-the-door sort of thing. "Is it far?"

"Very far." Villain turned sharply onto the highway's entry ramp. "And top secret. So you can't call anyone."

Henchman's insides twisted. He didn't get this far in a villain organization without being able to feel when something was off. But he also didn't get this far by asking too many questions.

"Ok."

Villain didn't say anymore after that. Henchman half pondered asking if he should turn on some music but decided against it. He leaned his head back against the seat rest, taking in the rumble of the engine and the muffled whip of the wind along either side of the car's sleek body. Villain breathed from her side of the car, but he tried not to think to hard about that. He'd barely interacted with her more than a handful of times, and only ever in passing or with a group. None of which he expected her to remember. Supervillain knew who he was because he knew how to utilize him. Villain didn't need to know any of that to do her job, which was to be the most lethal weapon in Supervillain's arsenal.

Henchman struggled against heavy eyelids, the soothing glide of the car and the exhaustion of the day hitting him all at once. He'd been prepping those pies for hours before Other Villain interrupted him. The apples were going to go bad if he wasn't back in a couple days. He couldn't even call one of the other chefs to finish them for him with this no-call rule, not that they'd have full effect without him doing each step anyway.

He yawned widely.

What sort of things...did Villain...like...?

Henchman didn't remember dozing off, but when he came to, the sky was dark and his face was pressed up against his window.

"I'm going to make you clean that glass," Villain said.

Henchman raised his head drowsily, squinting at the drool smear for several long seconds before shooting up completely straight in his seat.

"I'm sorry!"

Villain rolled her eyes. "You don't need to grovel about it." She pushed open her door and stepped out into the night. "Anyway, we're here."

"Here?" Henchman said, quickly getting out after her.

Villain nodded at the building with its glowing red overhead sign: Azure Inn. "Hotel."

"This is our safe house?"

"This is on the way to the safe house," Villain said, then shooting him a glare. "Stop asking so many questions."

Henchman bit his lip to stop from asking how much further they had to go tomorrow or where they even were now. He simply trailed her into the office as she purchased their room--two twin beds--and then continued after her to room 109.

Everything was blue. Curtains, bedspreads, carpets; it was no wonder how the hotel got its name.

Villain headed straight into the bathroom and Henchman plopped down on one blue bed stretching his long legs to the end with a soft groan as his thoughts wandered once again to the kitchen. This time to the pie dough, sitting in the open air in its tin. It was probably dry by now. His eyes flicked to the wall clock. 12:20 a.m. Supervillain's dinner was over by now too. How did they manage?

The bathroom door creaked, and Villain stepped into the main room, long hair loosed on her shoulders, framing her face in a thick, kinked mane.

Henchman's heart skipped a stupid beat.

As if hearing it, Villain's eyes whirled in his direction, pinning him to the mattress like finely whetted blades. "What are you doing?"

Henchman slowly pushed himself upright."Going...to bed?"

"You're support; you need to keep watch."

"For what?"

"For heroes, moron!" she snapped.

Henchman flinched. "Oh. Right. Um. They know we're coming?"

Villain stormed across the room, yanking back the covers and throwing herself violently onto her mattress. “We don't know, but it's better to be safe than sorry. You already slept in the car, so just stay awake until morning.”

“Right.” Henchman watched Villain snuggle beneath the covers locks of hair fanning like licking flame across her pillow. He cleared his throat. "One more question."

Villain sighed. "What?"

"What do you expect me to do if a hero does show up?”

“Fight them?” she said in a tone that reeked of suspicion that Henchman might actually be stupid.

“Ha, yes, that would seem obvious,” Henchman replied, attitude sneaking into his own tone. “If I knew how.”

Villain shot upright. “What?”

“Combat isn’t my speciality.”

“But you’re a combat henchman!”

Henchman furrowed his brow. “Nooo.”

"What do you mean? You were in the weapons room!”

"Yeah, because Supervillain killed them all! And apparently there was no one else around to clean up the mess!”

“He…?” Villain drew up her knees, leaning her elbows on the caps and rubbing her thumbs hard into her temples. “No, no, no, no. He’s further ahead than I thought. Has he already…? No. Maybe…”

“Villain?”

She jerked her head sharply toward him. "What do you do?"

Henchman wet his lips, the sheer contrast of Villain’s expectations, of this entire mistake, hitting him all at once. He looked down at the mattress sheepishly. “I bake."

Part Two

Master Taglist:

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[impala-dreamer]

Worn Out Leather

A Supernatural Story

~ It isn't easy, but you know when it's time to go.~

Dean Winchester x Reader

5,267 Words

Warnings: Super Relationship Angst. Sexual Scenes. Show-Level Action and Blood.

A/N: This stands for my "strained relationship" square for @jacklesversebingo Hope you enjoy! If you've ever had a breakup like this, you probably won't get through without tissues... just FYI.

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Things hadn’t been right in a long time. 

There were vicious fights that erupted out of nowhere. Fists found their way into walls, biting words struck their targets, eyes glared like daggers. 

It hadn’t felt like love in a long time, but neither wanted to admit it. 

There were good times too. Late nights spent passing a bottle back and forth, roaming kisses that sent tingles down their spines, hands reaching for each other in the dark. 

Once upon a time, it had been love. Whether true or imagined, passion-fueled or written in the stars, it had been there. 

It had been something altogether different for each of them. 

Now, Y/N sat on the bed, propped up by a stack of dying pillows. Her legs were crossed and her fingers gently turned the pages of an old book she’d found in the library. Something about it had struck her fancy hours ago, but the pale, handwritten words inside were now blurs on the yellowed pages. Her attention was gone; her mind was somewhere else. 

She stared off into nothingness, lost in the void between her eyes and the edge of the bed. If she was calm enough, she could see flecks of dust dance like snowflakes in the light, cast down like disobedient angels from heaven, floating on the warm air coming from the vents above. 

She didn’t notice when he walked in and didn’t bother to tear her gaze away from the dust. 

He did what he always did before coming to bed. 

First, he tugged off his flannel and tossed it onto the desk chair. Then, he sat on the foot of the bed and lifted his right leg. With a dramatic flourish, he tugged the frayed shoelace end and whipped it into the air, undoing the knot. 

She watched as he worked- one boot, and then the other. The thick muscles of his shoulders tensed then relaxed, and long the line of his spine bent then straightened. She used to love watching his body move. Loved his broad shoulders, and trim hips. She loved to stare at the nape of his neck, the soft spot where his hair stopped and his freckles started. Loved to think about running her lips across the velvet of his skin and feeling the short hairs tickle her cheek. 

Now, she stared with ice shards in her gaze, wondering if he would even speak to her before going to sleep or if another night lingering in heavy silence was their fate. 

His voice all but startled her, knocking her thoughts far away. 

“You still mad at me?” he asked. His chin was turned towards her over his shoulder, but his heavy eyes refused to lift to meet hers. 

Y/N clenched her jaw. “Yeah.” 

Dean exhaled loudly in a huff that hid a thousand harsh words. “Awesome.” 

‘Was it awesome?’ she thought. Had it ever been? What were they fighting so hard to keep? 

She turned the page with such annoyance that the force of it nearly ripped the fragile paper. With similar angst, Dean ripped the blanket back on his side of the bed giving it a tug. Y/N sighed curtly and closed her book. She moved slowly while he waited, knowing that he couldn’t move again until she placed her book on the nightstand and got up off of the blanket. He bit down hard on his bottom lip and curled his fist into the blanket corner. 

Finally, she moved and he pulled the blanket down for both of them to crawl beneath. 

The mattress didn’t move as they slid into their respective places. The foam remembered them, how they used to curl into each other’s sides; how Dean would rest his head on her shoulder while he slept, or how Y/N would twist herself inwards and hide in his left side after they made love. It remembered everything that was gone, and adjusted without judgment to their new positions. Dean hugged his pillow and turned towards the right, almost teetering on the edge. Y/N lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling until her eyes burned and she succumbed to the depths of sleep. No foot passed the invisible barrier between them, no hand roamed to caress a sore back, no body shifted closer seeking warmth. 

The line had been drawn and neither dared to cross it. 

Dean punched his pillow and settled into it, desperate to find a bit of comfort in the synthetic down. 

“Night.” 

His voice was soft to her ear but the tone was like knives on slate. 

Her stomach tightened. 

“You don’t even want to talk about it?” she asked, already sure of the answer. 

Dean sighed. “Not really.” He shifted, bending his left knee and turning farther away. “Not if you’re just gonna yell at me.”

Tears burned in her chest. She could feel them coming but she fought to keep them down. “Oh, right.” She sucked her teeth hard. “Because that’s all I do. I yell and you do nothing.” 

“Here we go.” Dean groaned and tossed back the blanket, sitting up. He leaned against the headboard and scrubbed a hand down his face. “So?” He turned to look at her and Y/N pursed her lips, finally looking at his face. 

He looked so done, so tired. 

‘Do I look like that?’ She pulled in a deep breath, struggling to keep the anger and stave off the tears. “So what?” 

Dimples popped above his lip. He closed his eyes. “So talk.” He threw his hands up in surrender. “You wanna talk, so talk.” 

How strange that months ago, the same words would be used to comfort her, to coax out whatever was hurting her and help find a solution. How did love curdle so easily? 

She dug her nails into her palm. “No.”

“No?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Now you don’t want to talk?”

Y/N shook her head. 

“Fine.” 

Giving up, he sank back down and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder. 

“Goodnight.” 

It was so final, so firm, that Y/N started to shake. 

“You such an asshole, Dean,” she spat. “You don’t even care what you’re doing to me, do you?”

It wasn’t fair, she knew. He wasn’t doing anything to her that she wasn’t doing to him, but still, she couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t stop fighting. When the fighting stopped, they were really done. 

Without a word, Dean rolled out of bed and reached for his robe. He shrugged it on and huffed loudly as he tied the sash around his waist. 

Y/N watched with teary eyes as he turned away and headed to the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

His jaw twitched and green eyes narrowed on her face. “I don’t want to sleep next to someone who hates me.” 

The words landed on her chest like an anvil and her breath fell away as he slammed the door. 

“Dean…”

Something was broken. Inside him, maybe, but between them most definitely. 

Dean traveled the hall, his bare feet sticking slightly to the tiled floor. For a moment, he thought to go back for his slippers, but he knew that was more trouble than it was worth. She’d be curled up on the bed crying, he’d be resentful of her tears, they’d yell at each other and neither would get any sleep. 

Cas’ bedroom door was open so he snuck inside and flipped on the light. In the back of the desk was a pint of whiskey that he’d stashed a million reasons ago, and he hoped there was something left. 

His prayers were answered and Dean pressed his lips to the cold glass bottle, closing his eyes as he took a long drink. 

Maybe he should just man up and end it already. Why was he hanging on to something that was too broken to mend? 

I still need her, he thought. But why? What was the magic power she had over him? Sure they had fun together. She was a hell of a hunter. She was clever. She was quick-witted and sassy. She was beautiful. But the constant arguments and bloody knuckles were wearing away at his soul. He was exhausted. 

Dean sat on the foot of the bed and took another drink. The bottle was only half full and he knew it wouldn’t be enough to push the pain away. Wouldn’t stop him from trying though. 

Her footsteps had been silent but the door creaked loudly. She stood in the doorway with wet cheeks and hurt in her eyes. 

Dean looked up and felt that familiar tug in his chest. He reached out a hand and she came to him, slowly crossing the threshold and meeting his touch. 

When her hand slid into his, he knew why he wouldn’t leave. He needed her. Needed a warm touch after a long day, needed some comfort after forty years of scars and trauma. 

He turned his wrist and bent to kiss her hand. He lingered there: chapped lips on warm, soft skin. She didn’t pull away, didn’t make a sound. 

He couldn’t break away, couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Not ever. 

Y/N took in a shaky breath and lay her right hand on his head. Lightly, she ran her fingertips over his scalp and Dean sighed, melting into her touch. 

When he tugged her closer, she didn’t protest. When he laid back and brought her with him, she went willingly. 

They kissed like it was the last time: long and slow, drawing out every movement, every breath. Her back arched under his groping palm; he hissed against her ear as she tugged down his shorts. 

Y/N spread her legs for him and Dean dove down, kissing the length of her body, hitting every spot he knew she loved, every inch that he had memorized over their time together. 

He brought her up fast with his mouth and broke the dam with the crook of two thick fingers. 

She clawed at his back, held on tight to his strong arms. Rolling her hips against him, she begged with sad eyes and desperate moans. 

Lightning passed between them, igniting every pleasure receptor, sparking something akin to love deep inside, but it faded too quickly. 

They lay naked and panting on Castiel’s abandoned creaky bed, each one afraid to speak and shatter the moment. 

At least there’s one thing that’s still good.

Three months earlier, Y/N had mistaken a stranger’s intense flirting for everyday kindness, and watching the scene unfold had driven Dean into such a jealous rage that they screwed in the back of the Impala for over an hour while he tapped into kinks she’d only ever peeked at. He called her a slut and she scratched lines down his back. He slapped her cunt and she cried out in ecstasy. He bruised her wrists, and she damned near drew his blood. They reclaimed each other in the dark misty night behind that club in Denville.

Now, he sat on the opposite end of the bar, forehead held up by one hand as the other toyed with the rim of his whiskey glass. 

Y/N’s voice carried over the crappy music to his ear but he didn’t bother turning her way. She was saddled up next to a tall blond man with giant arms and a shirt so tight she could trace every cut in his chest and abs with her eyes. He was spending a fortune on top-shelf vodka that she drank down like water, edging ever closer as the minutes ticked by. Keeping one eye on Dean, Y/N laughed wildly at the man’s unfunny jokes, smiled coyly, and bit her lip to entice him. He was smitten but she couldn’t care less. She just wanted Dean to give a shit. To show a hint of that animal who’d torn her panties to shreds and sucked her nipples so hard that they hurt for the next two days. She wanted him to rush over and push the hipster douchebag away, rightly claim his property, and dare anyone around to say anything about it as he escorted Y/N to her waiting punishment. 

She wanted him to notice. 

She wanted him to want her. 

He kept his attention on the amber solace of his drink and ignored her fake laughter. 

As her suitor leaned to whisper a proposal in her ear, Dean tapped his fingers on the bar, ordering another drink. 

Her stomach turned at the man’s disgusting premise, but her heart ached for the man she used to know.  

Dean knew what game she was playing, but it didn’t cut him any less. He drowned his feelings in the cheap stuff, ordering another while she ran her hands down the stranger’s chest. He clenched his jaw so tightly that his back molars hurt when he released the tension. He was boiling inside but refused to give in. 

The bartender was a curvy young woman with creamy dark skin and tight curly hair that bounced with every step she took. Every time Dean called her over, she would smile enticingly and lean over on her elbows to give him a good shot of her cleavage. Rich brown eyes slid over his face with carnal interest and by the fifth whisky, Dean was drunk enough to give her the time of day. 

Y/N peered over her date’s shoulder and saw Dean reach for the bartender’s hand, lightly resting his fingers on her delicate wrist. Her stomach burned and when he looked over at her, she dramatically slid her hand down the stranger’s arm and tugged him away from the bar. 

Dean watched her leave, blond man in tow, her hips swaying in a display that made every dick in the place twitch. He cleared his throat, pushing away the hurt, and set his eyes back on the bartender’s crimson-painted lips. 

He was still awake and drinking when she tugged her key from the motel room door and slammed it shut behind her. 

Silhouetted in yellow lamplight, he looked like a villain waiting to attack. 

Just as he’d done in the bar, she ignored him and dropped her stuff on the table, nearly knocking over the bottle of bourbon. 

She shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it onto the floor by his feet. She knew how much he hated it when she left her things all over the room. It was unsanitary and annoying. Digging in deeper, she kicked off her shoes one at a time, shooting them in opposite directions. 

He drew in a heavy breath. 

“Have fun?” 

Y/N looked at him and wiped a finger at the corner of her mouth. “Sure did.” 

The gesture made his stomach churn and he nodded slowly. “Good for you.” He took a drink, emptied the cheap plastic cup, and reached for the bottle. “Good… for… you.”

Y/N swallowed an angry growl and turned away. 

Alcohol burned away his sense and Dean went on. “So glad you’re out there whoring yourself out to anyone who buys you a drink.” 

She spun on her heel. “Excuse me?”

His eyes cut into her. “You heard me.” He downed a shot and reached for another. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “That don’t change the fact that you just swallowed some other dude’s load.”

“Fuck you.” Her heart was racing, her muscles twitching for a bout.  

He laughed bitterly. “No thanks. I don’t need your sloppy seconds.” 

Y/N seethed. Her eyes narrowed. She took a step closer. “And what about you? I saw you drooling over that young thing behind the bar. Was she all you dreamed of? Did she squirm under you, Old Man? Did she scream your name?” 

Dean slammed the cup down. The thin plastic buckled beneath his fist and tore. Whiskey puddled on the table but he didn’t care. “I didn’t touch her,” he said, voice hard and righteous. 

“Sure you didn’t,” she laughed. “Probably wouldn’t let your drunk ass near her.” 

She turned and he sprung to his feet, knocking back the chair as he went. The wood crashed to the floor, thumping on the worn green carpet. He grabbed her arm as she spun away and Y/N gasped loudly when his fingers dug into her flesh. 

“Get off me!” 

He grimaced but held tighter. “The fuck is wrong with you? You go off and fuck some guy and then come back here like we’re all good and you can just crawl into bed with me? Who the fuck do you think you are!”

The anger in his voice shot through her and Y/N shuddered. Biting back tears, she wrenched her arm away and stared up at him defiantly. 

“You think you know everything, don’t you, Dean?” Somehow, she kept her voice calm and even. “You think you’re some fucking superhero and everything has to go a certain way for you. You’re the chosen one and the world has to bend to your whim. But I’ll tell you what you really are. You’re an oblivious, selfish asshole and you crush everything and everyone around you to dust. And one day, you’re gonna be left alone on this planet surrounded by nothing but the carnage you left behind and your own goddamned tears.” 

Dean balked. His spine straightened and his eyes went wide. He took a step backward.

She’d gone too far, she knew, but it felt good to hurt him just a little bit more than he hurt her. 

He blinked quickly to clear his vision and shove the waterworks back inside. He dropped his fists and ran his fingers across the hem of his flannel just to have something to do, some way to ground himself. 

Shit.

Y/N softened, hating herself. “Dean, I’m-” 

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. Don’t.” 

A tear escaped and slid down his left cheek. 

Fuck. 

Y/N watched it fall, wondering how he could leave it there, how the feeling of sadness trickling down his face didn’t annoy him into taking care of himself. 

“I didn’t mean that-” 

He chewed his bottom lip and she reached out, swiping the wetness away with her thumb before he could pull back. 

“I don’t know why I said that, I just-” 

He didn’t answer and it burned her more than if he’d yelled back. She pulled her hand back and held his tear in her fist. 

Once upon a time she would have hugged him close, cradled his head, and let him cry into her shoulder. She would have soothed his pain, been a tourniquet for his soul, but now she was the blade. 

Silence hung between them and Dean gathered himself up. 

“I didn’t fuck her,” he whispered, cementing his earlier confession. 

Y/N sighed and her shoulders fell. “Neither did I.” 

Dean’s gaze fell to the ugly carpet and he took her hand in his. “I need some sleep.” 

She squeezed his hand and nodded. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Me too.” 

There are many reasons a simple case can turn sour and become a clusterfuck of epic proportions. A lack of credible witnesses or an uncooperative police force could slow things down. The lore might be wrong, the map may have changed, and the moon might shift phases in the midst of the investigation. There were a million things that could go wrong and the worst of them seemed to align in Pittsburgh. 

The city was too big to sneak around in. The streets were packed with tourists converging downtown and stammering through the summer heat. Police Chief Warren had been overly dismissive of any reports of an odd nature and therefore threw out over a dozen eye-witness accounts, making things incredibly annoying and difficult when occult dealings started becoming more obvious. 

The pair of recently arrived feuding faux F.B.I. agents was icing on the shitty cake. Partners Dunne and Jones worked the case, rushing through the gorgeous city and beyond, hunting a murderous crew that was dropping bodies up and down the Allegheny River. 

Beyond case details, they barely spoke. If it didn’t need to be said, it wasn’t. If it had anything to do with their personal life, it was ignored. 

Dean slept on the sofa. 

Y/N stayed up most of the night staring at him. 

She couldn’t tell through the dark that he was staring back. 

They used to be a great team. She was fearless and he was protective. He didn’t know when to shut up, and she cleaned up his verbal spillage. They communicated with winks and nods; blinks spoke volumes. They were always in sync, always had each other’s back, and when things went to hell, they were there to patch each other up without judgment or placations. 

Now the rhythm was gone. He went left and she took three steps back. She forged on, he was already back at the car. 

It wasn’t easy, but the job needed to be done. 

By two in the morning, they had tracked a trio of shape-shifting maniacs to a rundown townhouse on the edge of the city. Without mapping out a plan, Dean kicked down the door and Y/N rushed inside. 

Bullets flew. 

Fists collided; bones cracked. 

Blood flowed from shallow gashes as the last shifter standing morphed into a tiger and slashed at Y/N’s shoulder. She screamed, tumbling down and rolling onto her back on the dusty floor. Dean heard her yell and raced to the scene, instantly taking aim. 

From the floor, Y/N cocked her knees and steadied herself. She dug her heels into the floor and closed one eye, ready to fire. 

As her finger hovered over the trigger, a shot rang out and the tiger fell. Blood sprayed across her face and she scrambled back as the animal collapsed at her feet. 

“Damnit, Dean! That was my shot!” 

Stashing his pistol, Dean shook his head. “Yeah, whatever. You’re welcome.” He leaned over and extended a helping hand, but Y/N shoved it away, refusing. 

“I got it.” 

“Let me help you,” he snapped. 

Despite the pain in her shoulder, Y/N pushed herself up and spat a mouthful of blood at his feet. “I said, I got it.” 

Annoyed, he threw his hands up and turned away. He jabbed at the corpse with a boot and sighed. “What the fuck are we supposed to do with this?” 

Y/N looked down at the monster and shrugged. “I don’t know. Pretty sure the zoo’s closed at this hour.” 

There was no way they could burn the bodies in town, so they piled them into the trunk and took off into the open pastures of Pennsylvania. 

Silence hung thicker than the stench of death and Y/N sat with her head nearly out of the window. Anytime she went to speak, Dean turned up the radio. One notch on the dial for every word she didn’t say. 

The blaze burned high and the tension between them matched its intensity. 

Dean refused to look at her. 

Y/N pretended it didn’t break her heart. 

When the embers cooled to ash and the sun began to rise, Y/N kicked some dirt onto what was left and watched the last wisps of smoke dissipate. 

“Shall we?” 

Dean nodded without a word and fished the car keys from his pocket. The metal glinted in the virgin light and Y/N stared into the shine, praying that he’d say something, anything. 

God wasn’t listening. 

Dean drove the back highways like they were running from a nuclear attack. They headed west, away from the sunshine and into the boundless landscape of muted colors that transversed the country. 

Y/N was balled up against the door, as far away as she could possibly get. She closed her eyes to the whipping wind and longed for an answer. 

Dean watched her sighing into the breeze. There was a time when he was captivated by the small things like this. The way the wind lifted her hair and a gust stole her breath. The way her eyelashes graced the tops her her cheeks; the hint of a smile upon her lips. Now all he saw was another fight, a dense script of harsh words that neither could take back. 

He took the next exit. 

She sat up when the scenery changed and the long stretch of highway became a bumpy country road. 

Without turning her head, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. She used to love to watch him drive. Loved how his thick fingers curled around the wheel, calloused hands on worn-out leather. Loved how his bowed legs fell to either side and he kept his left hand draped on his thigh. So comfortable behind the wheel, it was like the Impala was made for him. As if the metal was forged with him in mind. She used to love to watch him drive, to cuddle up at his side, drop her head to his shoulder, and relax as the miles flew by. 

It was different now. 

It was strained. 

The magic was gone. 

“What happened to us, Dean?” she asked, voice crackling over the drone from the speakers.    

Hendrix played on and Dean shrugged. “Uh, we got our asses handed to us by a couple of shifters.” 

She snapped the radio off and turned in her seat, denim sliding over leather as she tried to face him. “That’s not what I mean.” 

“I know what you mean.” He leaned his elbow on the door and rubbed his forehead. 

“So,” she took a steadying breath, already feeling the tears brew again. “So what happened?” 

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head, too afraid to look at her lest he break down. This was it. 

“I don't know.”

Y/N looked away and let her eyes burn as the tears gathered. If she blinked, they’d fall. If she took a breath, she’d break. She stared at the road, at the faded white line and blue attraction signs, wishing she could go back in time, do it all over again, do it better.

Dean cleared his throat and pushed on. They were about a day from home and he longed for the safety of the bunker. He wanted to see Sam and have a beer. He wanted to call Jody and ask her how to fix this mess. He wanted to crash on his own goddamned pillow and pull on his giant headphones and listen to some fucking records before he lost what was left of his mind. 

Y/N was a million miles away and he had no idea how to reach her, how to fix what was broken between them. He still didn’t know which misstep had cracked the ice, but it was quickly shattering beneath his feet. 

He snuck a look across the bench seat, wondering if she knew the answer. 

She met his eye and something snapped inside her. 

“Pull over,” she whispered.  

His heart ached. “Are you OK?” 

“No.” She sighed and looked away. “Pull over.” 

She was done. All the nights lived in silence, all the chances he had to fight for them- it was too much. She was done. 

Dean pulled off onto the shoulder and hit the hazards. He twisted towards her with concern in his gaze and a plea on his tongue. 

She hesitated, hand hovering over the door handle, but when she gave him the chance, when she looked him in the eye, begging him to speak, there was only silence.

The door creaked open and her shoes hit the dirt. She grabbed her backpack from the backseat and slammed both doors shut. 

Confused and broken, Dean watched her set off. He knew he needed to follow her, but his body fought him. His legs were like lead, his arms were numb. 

She wouldn’t look back. She knew he wasn’t following her. The bag was heavy but she shifted it on her shoulders and took a deep breath. 

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t look back. 

He called her name and she stopped walking.

Boots hurried behind her. 

“Y/N-” 

She shook her head but he didn’t give up. 

“Where are you going? Come on-” 

She sighed heavily and hung her head. “I’m done, Dean.”  

“Done?” 

A laugh bubbled up and she turned. “Don’t act surprised, Winchester.” 

He licked his lips and shifted on his feet. “Look, I know things suck right now but-” 

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not just now. We- we haven’t been right in a long time. You know we haven’t.” 

His stomach burned. “So that means you just walk away? You give up on us?” 

Anger swirled. “This is not me just walking away. This is me climbing over the hundred million little reasons we don’t work and leaving. It’s for the best.”

“It’s not. No part of this is for the best.” 

It almost broke her heart all over again. Almost. 

“Come on, Dean. You’re sick of me. I’m nothing but a bitch to you lately, and you’re… half the time you’re mentally checked out. We can’t stand each other.” 

He clenched his fists, his jaw, his resolve. “That’s not true!” 

“It is. You know it is.” 

“You can’t-” He swallowed hard. “You can’t leave.” 

“I have to. It’s the right thing to do. There’s nothing else here and it’s all just a distraction. One of us is gonna get killed. Or worse.” 

Heels spun in the dirt but Dean grabbed her arm. She looked down at it in shock and he retreated instantly. 

“Please, Y/N. You can’t end this.” 

If she’d ever seen him so hurt, so utterly heartbroken, she couldn’t remember. There was a darkness in his eyes that tugged at her soul. 

“One of us has to.” 

He closed his eyes and a tear trekked down his face. 

Fuck.

“Please…” 

She shivered. Her body was revolting against her plans, but her mind was set. 

“I’m leaving, Dean. Unless you’ve got a good fucking reason for me to stay.” 

His lip trembled. He searched for something to give her but there was nothing left. 

“Just one…”

His eyes closed again and Y/N’s shoulders shook. She couldn’t stop herself from crying, but she could keep herself from caving. 

“See- if you loved me at all, you could give me a reason. That would be enough.” She smiled sadly. “But you can’t say it. Because you don’t.” 

He held her gaze, sadder than she’d ever seen him. 

His voice cracked. “I do love you, but-”

Another laugh. Another pebble on the mountain. “You see? There shouldn't be a but. Love is love, Dean. Either you love me or you don’t.”

“It's not like that for me,” he said, barely breathing. “For us. This life, it-”

She cut him off with a hard shake of her head. “Do not blame the life.” She took a step closer and pressed her toes against his. “It's you and me right now. Either you love me or you don't.”

Kiss her. Grab her. Make her stay. You need her. 

Dean couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. 

The longer he stayed silent, the more sure she was. 

Midday peaked above their heads and their tears dampened the gravel below. 

Y/N placed her hand against his left cheek and pushed up on her toes to kiss the right. He closed his eyes and wrapped his hand loosely around her wrist. 

“Please…” 

She was all out of reasons. 

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05   

[msb-lair]

Clutch #3096 - Eucalyptus/Boab

Mated On: 2023-01-08 # of eggs: 2 Hatched On: 2023-01-13

Progeny:

Hatchling 8182 (Vetiver) - Guardian Male, Brown Ground/Radioactive Foam/Thicket Flecks, Uncommon - 15 gems on 2023-01-22

Hatchling 8183 (Fallow) - Guardian Male, Chocolate Tide/Hunter Myrid/Green Flecks, Uncommon - 15,000 on 2023-01-21

Comments:

[finniestoncrane]

2.5k Event Request - Gotham!Riddler x Fem!Reader word count: 780 a/n: good GOD an excuse to write soft eddie in that transition between goober and... violent goober lmao i think he needs to fuck the anger out of hi cw: degradation, rough sex, bruising, forceful, lil bit of choking 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

The seemingly sweet and usually placid Edward that you knew was long gone by the time he had begun to bottom out inside of you. His hands, the same ones that nervously fidgeted with his glasses and felt clammy the moment you touched them were now gripping your waist, pulling you down onto him as he fucked you senseless with a reckless abandon you hadn’t thought possible of him.

But there was a lot on his mind, a lot of tension to rid himself of, and he was apparently using you as the method of relief. A stress ball, there to take his aggression, his cruel words, the hatred he felt for you and the rest of your colleagues, all sinking into you, as deep as his cock.

“That’s right… you’ll take it hng I knew you… wanted it… Too ashamed ah… ah… to admit it in front of the others? God… A shameful little whore, hm?”

And to think you’d only agreed to a date on a whim, unsure of how it might affect your standings in the food pyramid that was the GCPD. Finally agreeing to a date with Edward Nygma if only to stop him from hovering around your desk, causing the others to whisper and point. It felt cruel to you, but it deflected some of the same cruelty from yourself. Under normal circumstances, his awkward mannerisms and neat appearance would draw you in, but the threat of becoming the focus of the adult bullies of your workplace had kept you distanced from him.

Now, you realised what you had been missing as you stared up at his face, teeth biting down on his lip before gritting together. Flecks of saliva foaming from between them, landing on his lips and your cheeks as he seethed. His well-kept hair falling down in front of his face as his movements grew wilder, faster, harder.

You might have been the object of his affections, but you were still another in a long line of people who refused to take him seriously, despite his obvious, at least to him, superiority. And while he’d been nervous at first, hands lingering on your waist as you pulled him into a kiss, he’d loosened up. Now he was quite happy to let you know exactly how he felt, his words punctuated by grunts as he thrust his hips into you.

“I’m better than you. I’m better than them all! You should be thanking me! You should have been the one begging for my attention.”

Where his fingers dug into your skin, you could feel the telltale signs of bruises forming. A dull, sweet ache that warmed your core, only heightened when one hand broke free and reached for your cheek. He cupped it, palm sweaty and hot, before he let his fingers slide down to your throat, stroking along the front of it, a threatening movement that had your breath catching as you waited for what you hoped was coming.

And then his slender, surprisingly strong fingers tensed around your neck, choking you, a strangled moan escaping with the last of your breath.

His glasses slid down his nose, and with his eyes no longer shielded by the glare on the lens, you could see deep into them, the pain, the anger, the lust. All of it accompanied by the self-satisfied and smug sneer that crossed his lips.

“I thought you’d be filthy… a little bit naughtier than I could even imagine. But you’re downright disgusting.”

His cock was buried deep inside of you, barely moving as he refused to shift backwards, only rutting into you, his head tapping against your g-spot, filling you and stretching you.

“You do like this, don’t you?”

You nodded, unable to speak, only just managing to catch your breath.

“Use your words, come on. You’re not that stupid.”

Struggling to push any sound out, you were pathetically grateful when he eased up a little, lifting his fingers to admire the red marks that were forming on your skin.

“I like this.”

“Of course you do. Everyone wants someone to take charge. Someone better than them. Eventually, you’ll just be one of hundreds that will take me for who I really am. But you’re lucky right now. You’re… special, in a way.”

His cock twitched inside of you, throbbing with arousal at his own egomaniacal praise.

“Well… the polite thing to do would be to thank me.”

“Th-thank you?”

That genial, sweet smile you were familiar with appeared once more, genuinely warmed by the appreciation he was so desperate for, the kind he never got, before he began thrusting once more in his quest to ruin you.

“You’re very welcome.”

[yeehawbvby]

Hmmm some steamy Arven prompts: in a tent whilst titan hunting, dorm rooms at the academy, I think I liked the vibe of “oh shit we could get caught in the act” in in too deep so thanks for unlocking something within me 😮‍💨🤠

*kisses u on the mouth!!!!!* The fact that you gave me multiple prompts has been SO NICE. It’s filled my little rotted goblin brain with ideas >:3 So tysm for that! Idk if you saw it yet, but I borrowed the dorm room one for a previous request! 

Gonna go with the “we can get caught” concept here, just because I’m a sucker for that too tbh (see below: that word count, that I actually cut from already LMAO). I accidentally wrote a Dom!Arven, so I’m sorry for that :’D Hope you enjoy!! x 

Light My Beacon | (Arven x F!Reader)

Note: In case anyone is new here, please note that I headcanon Arven as an adult! Please consider this aged up if I’m proven wrong in the future.

Rating: Mature/Explicit | WC: 1,848

“This is such a bad ideahh!~”

Below you, you can hear the chatter of tourists and Paldean natives sightseeing near Porto Marinada. The chirps of their accompanying Pokémon. The deep blue waves and white foam that crash against the shore like clockwork. The occasional Kilowattrel flies overhead, leaving the flaps of their wings echoing in your eardrums.

You feel the warm Spring sun beating down on your pinkened cheeks. The cold metal of the railing – covered in sharp, deep orange flecks of paint that are chipping away, thanks to the elements – pressed against your back. A chilly sea breeze blows by, sending Gooserene bumps down your skin. More bumps are sent upward from your lower half as you feel a particularly delicious jolt within you, paired by a harsh nip at your neck. 

You swallow back a whimper. A short squeak makes its way past your vocal cords anyway. “Arven, shit, t-this is so stupid.”

Ignoring your half-assed protests, your partner continues to pulse into your sweet spot with his middle and ring fingers. Working you with more vigor than he beats eggs smooth, or kneads dough to the perfect pliability for molding. It’s taking every ounce of air in your lungs not to cry out Arven’s name, so you whisper-yell your concerns while clinging onto his shirt for dear life. 

“What if– mmn, w-what if someone comes up here?!”

He ceases the war he’d been waging on your neck to chuckle against the freshly-bruised skin, placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss before responding. “Guess we’ll just have to listen for visitors…” He kisses up your jawline, and just as he presses the edge of his thumb to your clit, he murmurs against your ear, “Which means you’re gonna have to shut the fuck up.”

You hate to admit it to yourself, but you love when Arven gets like this. Makes you feel like the most valuable treasure in the region. The most beautiful girl in the world. When he’s so ravenous that he’ll do whatever it takes to make a mess of you, even if it entails being just a little mean, it lights a fire in you that nobody but him can extinguish.

Arven’s harsh words wring out another needy whine. Your lower belly feels as warm as the coppery beige slabs of stone that rest beneath your shoes. 

He chuckles, then teases, “You’re so into this, aren’t you?” 

He lightly nips at your earlobe, kisses just underneath where your ear meets your neck, then hovers an inch back up to continue. “You’re getting off on the fact that anyone can hear your pretty little moans, yeah?”

Arven’s free hand, which was caging you against the banister, reaches up and tangles into your hair as he pulls away from your profile to get a better look at you. He grins at the sight, hungrily drinking in the way your hips wantonly rock against his thick digits, and how subtly your legs quiver, weakened with adrenaline and pleasure.

Quietly, he mutters, “Anyone can climb that ladder, or simply…” He lightly tugs your tresses, forcing another whimper out of you as your face greets the clouds. “...Look up, and they’ll have the perfect view of me destroying this tight little pussy of yours.” 

Your stomach does a flip – both at the mental-image, and at your boyfriend’s wording. His face creeps closer to yours. He licks a small strip against the center of your throat before closing his lips against it; before loosening his grip in your hair, allowing your head back to its natural forward-facing position. Through hazy vision, you can see that Arven’s pupils are blown wide, rendering his visible eye more blackened than aquatic. 

Leaning in towards your mouth, but not quite closing the gap, he whispers the end of his thoughts. “And you love it.”

He hovers there, then pulls back slightly when you lean in to steal a kiss. Responding to the frustrated mewl that escapes you, his smug grin widens. “Admit it, lil’ cutie.”

“F-fuck,” you sigh, “Yes, Arven, I love it so much.”

A quiet, cocky laugh emits from your lover as he leans into your lips. “Good girl.” 

He closes the gap, and you pull away shortly after to gasp, “N-need more, please.”

“Oh, so it’s not that you don’t mind someone catching us… you want someone to catch us.”

“Don’t care, god, please fuck me.” You swallow a moan, then continue your pleas. “Need you so bad, please Arven~”

Arven silences you with another kiss, this one much more forceful. He untangles your locks from his fingers and flattens a supportive palm on the back of your head, just above your nape. Leaves you breathless. When Arven opens a new gap, you peer below you as he slowly pulls his fingers from your pussy, then your pants, and lifts them up to your mouth. Your lips part, and gazing up at your boyfriend with Deerling-like eyes, you let him slip his slickened digits inside. Twirling your tongue around his fingers like you would his cock, sucking yourself off of him. Sucking him clean. Driving yourself insane with want.

You notice a proud glint in Arven’s eye as he cups your face in both hands and dips back down. His chapped lips touching your smoother ones, he murmurs, “Such a good girl for me,” before rewarding you with more kisses. “Y’taste so fucking good,” Arven groans into another. His approval sends a shiver down your spine as you practically melt into his touch.

Your grip moves from Arven’s broad shoulders, down his clothed torso, and onto the front of his pants. Before you can unbutton them for him, he swats you away, taking matters into his own hands. Once his cock springs free, he undoes your bottoms as well. He only brings them below your hips, but for ease of access, you promptly let them fall to your ankles.

Without pulling away from your kiss, Arven lifts one of your legs with his fingertips – as if it weighs nothing – and curls it around his side. He adjusts the angle of his hips slightly to line up with your center… but opts to toy with you a bit. Arven slowly slides his length against your folds; softly thrusting his head against your clit, painting your labia with a mixture of your arousal and his pre-cum, creating the lewdest little sounds between your bodies. 

“Mnn,” you whine into your partner’s lips, pulling away slightly to use your words. “Fuck, stop that,” you urge. 

You’re practically about to snap just from being fingered and teased, meanwhile Arven’s having a great time milking every last drop of your patience. Smiling as he gnaws his bottom lip. Basking in how eagerly you squirm against him. If he weren’t so goddamn beautiful, you’d want to punch that cocky, knowing look off of his face.

“Pleas– oh, fuck!” 

Arven plunges into you without warning, his face contorting into a cheeky, cat-like grin as he watches yours morph from frustrated to fucked up. You suppose it makes sense. There was no need to pause and use spit as lube when you’ve already concocted an excess of your own.

Dragging your hands up to Arven’s blonde and brown tresses, you tangle your fingers between the strands, desperate for something to hang onto. You bite your lip so as to stop yourself from practically announcing to all of Paldea that you’re being fucked on top of the Porto Marinada lighthouse in broad daylight. Just as a heady cry begins to evade your defenses, Arven plants his lips on yours. 

He growls into your mouth as you mewl into his, echoing one another back and forth. Wrestling your tongues together, then sucking his before he harshly tugs your bottom lip between his teeth. All the while his hips snap into yours, his thick cock reaching so, so deep. Arven is strategic in his thrusts, making sure no skin-on-skin smacks reverberate into the midday air. You wish with all your heart that he would just forget that and pound into your cunt without mercy. 

Arven’s got you sweating beneath his touch, his free, calloused, large hand cupping your chest, your cheek, your neck, your hip. Has you panting like a fucking Growlithe with each firm tap his dick makes against your g-spot. Humming like an Altaria with each moan he breathes against your lips. Making your core tingle as he leans his forehead against yours, drowning you in hushed praise and insults in tandem; softly telling you that you’re his perfect slut, his good little whore, his desperate princess.

You wrap your arms around Arven, biting his shoulder to keep yourself from letting the screams that reside in the back of your throat come out to play. Needing to gain his own composure, your lover digs his fingers into your hooked leg, with a vice grip on the handrail beneath his other fist. Like a fraying thread, you feel yourself come undone as his cock begins to harden and twitch inside of you.

“F-fuh– I’m cumming,” you whine into Arven’s collar, just before you’re slain by a little death. “Please don’t stop, Arven!”

He pulls you from his shoulder, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Mm, go ‘head and cum for me.” He hisses your name, followed by, “God, you feel so fucking good.”

Right when stars begin coating your vision, Arven mirrors you. You bask in how good he feels, pulsating inside your tightening cunt, coating it in thick ribbons of cum. As he pulls out, his release drips slowly down his shaft and your leg. 

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to clean up the mess: before either of you can so little as catch your breath, you hear the soft patters of rubber and skin against metal. 

An indication that you’re about to have company. 

Both sets of eyes lock and widen as you simultaneously curse under your breath. Each of you pull your pants up, then hurry to help fix each other’s messy hair. Just before the group of… Unovan, you think? tourists show themselves, Arven and you lean on the handrail, pretending to gaze out at the land below you.

“Wow, a lovely views from here!” one girl prompts. Her Paldean is broken, but it’s cute that she tried, and you appreciate the effort.

“Definitely,” you agree, pulling away from the railing and inconspicuously tugging at Arven’s sleeve. You turn and give him a look that silently says, ‘Let’s go,’ and he responds with a subtle nod. “Enjoy your stay!” you offer, as you and your boyfriend scurry away. 

As you clamber onto the ladder, you both fall into a fit of giggles. “I can’t believe we did that,” you mutter.

“Right?!” Arven responds from above you. “Look at us go!” 

Once you’re both on solid ground again, you make way to the nearest Pokémon Center, crossing your fingers in hope that its restrooms won’t be too crowded. There’s no way either of you are trekking back home to Mesagoza like this.