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whumpzone · 2 years

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Linden & Colton - 26

(masterlist)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, a tiny mention of throwing up

this is a flashback chapter! but since I want to keep the chapters specifically titled Flashback to be about Col's old master, this one can be a proper chapter. besides, it's been long enough <3 this chapter incorporates some text from this ask and I suppose this ask is a continuation!

Linden looked between the bored council worker and the pet at his feet.

He and the worker exchanged meaningless pleasantries. It all became very real in an instant. He couldn’t back out now. He didn’t want to back out, but- the reality still hit him like a blow to the stomach. His hand tightened around the doorknob.

The pet was frozen; the only part of him that was moving at all was his hair, a breeze lightly combing through it.

“No problems with sight, no sign of illness, uh, ate what he was given, uh….”

Linden bent at the waist slightly, smiling down at the pet, although the smile went unseen.

“Hello, there.”

Nothing. The man didn’t move an inch, except to squeeze his eyes shut. Linden paused.

“Can he speak?”

“I don’t think so, hasn’t said a word since we got him in… can you speak, pet?”

Linden watched, hoping for some reaction, but he stayed motionless.

“He can hear, though,” the worker added, predicting Linden’s next question. “Yeah, so… there’s that.”

The breeze picked up, but the man knelt in Linden’s doorway didn’t react.

“I suppose there isn’t much else you can tell me about him,” he asked flatly.

The worker stretched his neck, thinking. “Uhhh… he’s a big fella, but not a fighter by the looks of it.”

Linden noted the slim leash. Other than that, the only other restraints were the handcuffs holding his hands behind his back.

It was true, the man looked like he’d be tall if he stood to his full height, but at present he wasn’t even daring to look up. Linden hadn’t fully considered the fact that the pet might have been violent. God, he might have had to actually restrain him, if that had been the case.

Am I insane? Linden suddenly thought, both frantic and oddly calm. Is this an insane thing to do? It’s too late now, anyway. What on earth is Vik gonna say?

“Okay, thank you. Enjoy your day.”

The leash was exchanged, the handcuffs removed. The worker gave him a quick nod goodbye and rattled away in his van as Linden looked down at the figure outside his house.

. . .

Pet couldn’t breathe.

He really couldn’t breathe. Terror weighed so desperately on his chest that he couldn’t draw any air into his lungs.

He was back. After all these months he was back, back in the clutches of a sole human, outside the house that would become his entire world in just a few moments.

It was all going to start again. He was going to re-learn how to please his owner. Every bit of his body and mind was going to be broken and re-set to his new Master’s desires.

“Hello, there.”

Pet hadn’t been spoken directly at in a long time. He was so accustomed to having humans talk about him as if he wasn’t there.

He was used to being tested, however. He’d been given no direct orders, nor permission to answer. He kept being good, with his head bowed low.

“Can he speak?”

“I don’t think so, hasn’t said a word since we got him in… can you speak, pet?”

The last thing I’m going to do is take an order from someone other than my Master, thought Pet. No. I have to show him that I’m loyal. If Master asks me, then I’ll speak.

His new owner was apparently satisfied with his silence, though.

Distantly, Pet felt himself wilt, just a tiny bit. This Master didn’t care to let him speak, then. This could be it for life. He might never utter another word.

But it was fine, it was fine, he was owned and this was what he was for, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he felt empty and scared and lonely on the streets? Hadn’t he been just days from starvation before those humans stuffed him into a cage at the local shelter?

His sinking heart was betraying him. He wished he could just be good, he wished he could be overjoyed at being given another chance to serve his only purpose.

The thought of punishments shouldn’t scare him, they were necessary. They helped.

Why did he want to throw up?

Pet would do anything to please this man. What silly animal thoughts could he ever need to articulate, anyway? Why was he acting like he was capable of having ideas worth saying?

“He can hear, though. Yeah, so… there’s that.”

“I suppose there isn’t much else you can tell me about him.”

Pet would know displeasure a thousand miles off. His new owner was looking down at him in irritation. Pet wondered what the punishment would be if he pressed himself to the cold stone and begged then and there that he would be worthy.

“Uhhh… he’s a big fella, but not a fighter by the looks of it.”

That’s right, thought Pet, his eyes widening with emotion. I’m not a fighter, I’m nothing, I’m absolutely nothing. You can mould me, Master. I’ll be whatever you want. I’ll earn my stay and maybe you won’t have to hurt me too badly.

Having got all the information he needed, Pet’s new Master sent the handler away and Pet took the deepest breath of his life. In half a second he took in the coolness of the wind, the fresh air, the sound of birds and dogs and cars, knowing with absolute certainty that he would never be among any of it again.

. . .

The man was dressed in shorts that looked too small, and a t-shirt with a design so faded it looked like static. Even after the handcuffs had been taken off, his wrists remained crossed across his back. Like any movement might be the wrong one.

“Come in, come in.”

Linden was put further on edge when the man crawled in, still staring at the floor, still silent.

He bent down to unclip the leash and saw him flinch, oh god, oh fucking hell he was in so far over his head.

He took several steps back, winding the leash around his hand nervously. He needed a second.

All he knew was he had a spare bedroom, and enough time off work. He had food, and a harmless cat, and he guessed he would figure the rest out as he went.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m- I’m- I’m going to make it okay.” Linden felt like he was speaking to himself rather than the pet. “You don’t have to stare at the floor. You can look around.”

He felt more than a little relieved when the man obeyed.

His hair was a sandy kind of blond, and Linden was fairly sure that his eyes were green. It was hard to tell when they were moving across his house so rapidly. Linden had naturally noticed the endless collection of scars up and down his body, but as the pet lifted his head, he could see one more: a white line across his left cheek.

He lifted a hand to his own cheek and felt the soft flesh there. He was uneasy even imagining the pain that accompanied that single wound. What on earth had this man gone through? And- Linden thought despairingly- how would he ever earn his trust?

Looking to the side, into the living room, Linden saw Jaffa's empty cat bed, a small symbol of his peaceful household. Okay. Maybe things could be okay.

No- he would make sure they were okay. This man was his priority now. His property too, unfortunately.

He made his way a little bit closer to the man. “This will be your home now. For… the foreseeable future. I know you didn’t get a choice in this, and I’m sorry. My name is Linden.”

. . .

Pet couldn’t take it all in. A new house, a new Master, a new life. It felt like his thoughts were moving too fast for his brain.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m- I’m- I’m going to make it okay.”

Pet exhaled and breathed in the indoor air for the first time. He would have to savour this too, before he was taken down to the basement. He remembered the smell of his old home well enough- his own blood and filth, with nothing to dilute it.

The wording was odd, but it sounded as if his new Master was looking for a project. A pet that needed some heavy refurbishments. And of course, he could speak however he liked- Pet would need to get used to it, learn to read between the lines.

“You don’t have to stare at the floor. You can look around.”

Pet obeyed without thinking, but it struck him what a kindness this was. There was no need for him to see the house; he would spend most of his life chained away or blindfolded, and it wasn’t as if he were allowed to speak to compliment his new Master’s home.

Crouched in the doorway, he looked into the house. It was wooden and old; the bannisters were worn with age, the floorboards were exposed, and Pet’s new owner stood amongst it like an add-on. He was dressed in brown and pine green, with long black hair, and dark skin. Shadowy, Pet thought. The man, his Master, had a faraway look to him. Guarded, even a little suspicious.

Particles of dust floated between them as Master slowly came closer. Pet could only brace himself for whatever was about to happen. Master could strip him down, inspect him, hurt him, throw him into the basement and lock the door. He could do whatever he wanted to his new living property.

“This will be your home now,” Master said slowly. “For… the foreseeable future. I know you didn’t get a choice in this, and I’m sorry. My name is Linden.”

Pet listened. Master’s name went through his head, but didn’t linger. He knew it wasn’t for him to use.

“I’m going to take this off,” Master said, and usually this kind of warning meant Pet was supposed to prepare himself- take his shirt off, or turn around to offer his back, or hold out his wrists- but he had no idea what Master was even referring to. Panic set in. What was he going to do to him? What was there to take?

Master reached out and Pet didn’t flinch this time, because he knew better. He couldn’t suppress a gasp, however, when he felt cold fingers brushing against his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to swallow his fear.

He was so distracted by his own terror at what might be happening that he didn’t realise Master was undoing his collar until he pulled it away from Pet’s neck entirely.

He was untethered, again.

He’d been without a collar the whole time he’d been a stray. So long in fact that when he was collared just a few days ago, he had felt trapped, frightened, hardly able to breathe. Pets were meant to be collared. It had only backed up what he already knew, that he was defective in every way, that he never learned, that he needed to take a lot more pain before he could serve his purpose.

He almost reached a hand up to feel his bare skin, but caught himself. Was he trying to get a beating?

“That’s okay, you can touch it. You don’t need a collar in this house.”

Pet was so shocked he almost looked directly at his Master. He wasn’t just replacing the collar with another one? This was it?

He shouldn’t have felt relieved. He was bad. At least his old master had known that, and knew how to keep him in line. This Master was going to find out by himself. Pet was going to disappoint him at every turn until he realised that only the harshest discipline could keep him in line. And that meant a trip to the bedroom, an extended session with the handcuffs and restraints and-

His own pounding heartbeat brought him back to the present.

“You look so cold,” Master mused, though he spoke so quietly Pet wasn’t even sure if he was meant to hear it. “Come, follow me, and I’ll see what I can do.”

taglist part 1:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

#linden and colton #pet whump #ive been writing consistently since the last official chapter #but i still suddenly feel nervous and out of practice hahaha #so i hope this satisfies!#and yes i put the line in about linden having time off work #because its been irritating me that we dont know why hes got sm free time #so you get a TINY BIT OF INFO. ONLY A CRUMB

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anditvanisheslikemist · 2 years

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by surprise, part 4 of 4

The story is complete! Hindsight ‘verse (AO3) but you don’t need any background. Nico/Matty. This new part is 3,000 words, and unlike the first three parts, part 4 is explicit/18+/NSFW. You can read the story from the beginning on AO3 or here on tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Part 4:

He lets himself drift, and then sleep, and when he wakes up again he feels infinitely more human. He sits up and coughs and blows his nose, and Matty sleepily sits up beside him. "Okay?" he asks with a yawn.

"So much better," he tries to say, and frowns when he discovers that his voice is all but gone.

"You were snoring," Matty says, pressing a kiss to Nico's shoulder. "Probably didn't help your throat."

Probably not. "Did you take Jupiter out earlier?" Their whole routine is off.

"Yeah. I'll let her out again later, but she should be good for now. Shower?"

"Lead the way."

The warmth and steam, and the fact that the meds have kicked in, feel amazing. He'd tugged on Matty's hand and that had been enough to get him into the shower for his second time that day. They'd left the overhead lights off, the bathroom nightlight providing the only glow. Matty pulls Nico close, forehead to shoulder, letting the water course over them both, and then pours shampoo into his palm and starts working it into Nico's hair.

Oh. They haven't done this in a while. Not since they both got busy with work. He moans, and Matty deepens the massage.

"Christ, Matty." His voice is broken. "That's—"

"Yeah?" Voice low.

"So fucking good," he manages, breathless. He drops his hands from Matty's waist to his hip bones, and then lower, to the curve of his ass. Matty's breath catches and he pauses to take Nico's face in both of his hands and kiss him deep. "Gonna get sick," Nico whispers, but Matty just shrugs.

"Then we might as well enjoy it." He finishes lathering Nico's hair and turns him around to rinse out the shampoo. Nico take a step back to press against him, both of them well on their way to hard.

Matty bites back a groan and finds the conditioner and works that into Nico's hair as well, and then picks up the body wash and loofah. He goes slow, starting at his shoulders and massaging out some of the tension as he goes. Nico hums in appreciation and some of the steam must get in, because he's suddenly pitching forward with a strong, helpless heh-TCHUH! ih'DZHH! hhh… t'SCHUU! Matty holds him steady with a palm across his chest, pressing him close as every sneeze bucks Nico back against him.

"Fuck, Nico," Matty gets out as Nico straightens up and leans back, letting Matty take his weight. Matty's fully hard against him now.

Nico hums a laugh and grinds against him, and then shivers when the movement pulls him out of the shower's flow.

"We're supposed to be getting you in bed," Matty chides, and Nico turns around in his arms to kiss him long and hard, the rush of it making his heart pound.

"Take me there, then," Nico murmurs, and Matty shakes his head helplessly but Nico knows he's already won. He puts his hand on Matty's where he's still holding the loofah, and guides it downward. Matty obliges, dropping down to lather up his abs and his ass and his legs, pressing kisses at his hipbones and the tops of his thighs. "Oh—" Nico gasps, and Matty gives a little more pressure, and Nico slides his fingers into Matty's hair and gives the smallest tug, trying to say, yes, but not that, I'm gonna—

hihhh… T'SCH'IEWW! So strong he would have had to stutter-step to keep his balance if Matty hadn't been holding him steady at the hips. huh… hhhh… h'DZH'IUU!

"Oh, god." He's dizzy in their wake, but he has enough presence of mind to sluice water over Matty's hair with his hand just in case any of that caught him. Matty catches his hand and kisses it, then stand up and wraps both arms around Nico. Nico sinks against his chest, exhausted and shivery again.

"Let's get you into bed." Decisively, this time. Nico makes a no, I can keep going sort of noise, but Matty just rubs his back and hands him a washcloth so he can blow his nose.

He's not pouting. He's not. He's just… so fucking frustrated that his body has failed him, a-fucking-gain, when they were so close, and now there are tears in his eyes.

"I've got you," Matty says, and Nico sniffles and lets himself be led out of the shower and back to bed. The lights are off in here, too, with just the soft glow from the en-suite bathroom. Matty gets one of their extra blankets, warm and soft, out of the closet and wraps it around Nico's shoulders once he's under the covers, propped up against the pillows. "Okay?"

Nico nods, still shivery and over-emotional, and wipes his nose with the corner of the blanket because the idea of reaching out of his blanket nest for a tissue sounds painfully cold, and this blanket has been washed many times before; it can handle being washed again.

Matty makes a small sympathetic noise and gets under the covers and pulls him close. "I'm sorry you feel shitty."

Nico burrows closer. "I was actually feeling pretty good for a minute there."

Matty hums against his neck encouragingly.

"I didn't want to stop." He turns away to cough into his blanket-covered elbow, and Matty presses a palm against his ribs under the covers, holding him steady.

"I know." Matty's hand slides down to his waist, warm and strong.

"'m feeling better," Nico says, nuzzling closer for a kiss. "Now that I'm lying down." He sends one hand down Matty's body under the sheets, and rubs the blanket at his nose again with the other. He's momentarily confident that he can drive away the tingling that's started up in his sinuses again, but instead the motion just coaxes out a heavy ng'TCHu! that starts his nose running fiercely again.

"Yeah?" Matty reaches over him to pull three tissues out of the box and hand them to him. Waits for Nico to blow his nose.

"Yes." He knows he doesn't sound like it, his throat sore and his voice destroyed. "I want—" He fights back a rush of emotion. "I just want you." He swipes at his nose with the used tissues again, and Matty takes them out of his hand and gives him a clean handkerchief from the nightstand instead. "I'm tired of feeling bad," he whispers. Everything is dim and close, Matty's hand in his hair again, his thumb moving at Nico's temple. "I just want—"

"Okay." Voice low and quiet. "Okay." Kissing his forehead, his lips, his jaw, his neck. "You just lie back. Don't do anything. That's the deal." Lips at Nico's collarbone. "You rest, and I'll make you feel good."

"I love you," Nico whispers, and that gets Matty back up to kissing the corners of his mouth again.

"I love you, too."

The first step, it turns out, is that Matty gets up and picks out his warmest hoodie and helps Nico pull it on. It's two sizes too big and it swallows him up, fluffy and warm, and even through his congestion Nico knows it smells like Matty. Hood on, letting the sleeves cover his hands, the extra blankets around his shoulders again; bedsheets and comforter pulled up to his chest.

"Good?" Matty's fussing with the blankets, face set in a slight frown. He'd pulled out the rest of the stack of plain handkerchiefs and added them to the bedside table as well.

Nico gets one hand out of its oversized sleeve to caress Matty's worried face. "So good," he says, and pulls him in for a kiss. He has to break away a second later to catch a congested NGXT-chiu into his other, still-hoodie-covered palm. "Sorry," he says hoarsely, and turns his hand to wipe his nose against the ribbed fabric of the cuff pulled over his first-finger knuckle.

Matty puts the handkerchief in his hands, which sparks another HNGXT!-chu into its folds. "Don't be sorry." Kissing his way down the arm that hasn't become a defacto handkerchief. "It's okay. Always. Remember?"

Nico nods, blowing his nose into some tissues to make his handkerchief last as long as possible. They'd talked about this a lot, back at the beginning. Well, Nico had apologized over and over, face buried in his hands, and Matty had told him, both gently and firmly, over and over, that he didn't need to. Nico's getting emotional again just thinking about that reassurance after the guys he dated before who had barely concealed their impatience and disgust. If they tried to hide it at all. And in those cases it was just allergies. Not even anything contagious.

Which this definitely it. He muffles a h'TCHMP against the handkerchief pressed tight in his palm. The pressure of holding back the small explosion makes his head throb. Matty makes a disapproving sound, and Nico raises his eyebrows (as always) at the minor hypocrisy, given that Matty crushes his own sneezes into submission so consistently and with such force that he's got a fifty-fifty shot at a sinus infection with every cold.

"Gentle," Matty breathes, so soft here with him no matter how prickly he can get with the outside world, and Nico just nods, and sniffs experimentally, and decides that the tingling that's still plaguing his sinuses— his whole face, really— is going to hold off for a minute or two, at least. "Ready?"

Nico melts back into the pillows under the brush of his fingertips. "So ready."

He's slow and gentle, leaving moments between his kisses for Nico to breathe and swipe at his running nose with his handkerchief, with his hand moving under the covers the whole time. Slow strokes. Strong and warm. Nico moans and presses his hips into the touch, and Matty drapes a leg over Nico's so that they're flush together, Matty achingly hard against his side.

Nico closes his eyes and lets himself drift, and Matty's murmuring, "Good, that's right, I've got you, you just relax." His breath is picking up pace, more of a pant with the congestion, and as everything builds he pulls up his knees, wanting, wanting.

"Will you…" he asks, breathless, and, "Want you inside me," and "Please."

"It's not too much?" Matty's a little breathless, too, warm with the effort and the covers.

"Not too much," he says, one hand working into Matty's hair.

"Okay." And then Matty's between his knees, heavy and warm, sliding an extra pillow underneath Nico to get the angle right; his weight pressing into him when he leans over to the bedside drawer for the lube and a condom for easy clean-up and one of the old, soft towels they always put down.

"Best medicine," Nico murmurs, only a half-formed thought but it's meant to mean you, you're the best medicine, and Matty kisses him again when he leans forward, propped on one arm, to start the process.

Slow and warm and gentle, one finger and then two, and then eventually he sits up on his heels to get himself ready, condom and more lube, and then eases himself forward, and then in.

Best medicine. It really is. He's warm and full and loved and the only pressure he can feel is where and how he wants, the pain in his head and face and throat turned down to only a dim awareness. That tickling, tingling feeling is trying to resurge, but he rubs hard against the side of his nose to get it to hold off just a little longer.

"Good?" Shifting his weight so he can take Nico in his hand at the same time.

He nods, unable to form words, all of his over-sensitive nerve endings exploding at once. It all feels stronger than when he's well. Everything heightened. A little too much, but in the best way.

He doesn't realize, really, that his breath is starting to catch until Matty tells him, "Go ahead," and moves a little bit into the position that he knows from long experience is best.

Nico always sneezes during sex. Fucking or being fucked, or any variation of the above; even when he's perfectly healthy and his allergies are under control, there's something about it that tips his nose over the edge at least once during the process. He'd googled it, once. Apparently being aroused can happen in your nose. Who knew. Unsurprisingly, his nose responds to this particular change of state… disproportionately.

hhhh'ehh… dZH'SHHIUu! He manages to get his handkerchief up in time, which is good, because when it happens it's always— hihHH'TSCHHhhoo! —strong. And spraying. And:

"Oh— fuck—" Matty's got his eyes closed, panting, riding it out. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat. "Again?"

Because as Matty had figured out pretty early on, the feeling of being inside someone when they sneeze, especially like that, is like nothing else in the world.

Nico grins to himself even as the need blooms for a third time, and gets out "Yes—" just before his breath catches again for a hhhhhhh… that hangs there in silence for two beats before crashing into— DJZHIUUUU! —the rest of itself. He sniffs, and Matty groans.

"God, Nico." Panting hard, now, because it turns out that what he's been ashamed of for so long is exactly the thing that can send his husband over the edge.

"Might b-be… mohhre…" He gasps a breath, but then shakes his head when nothing comes of it. "But apparently not right now."

Matty nods and shifts his weight back to a better position to get a rhythm going again, with more urgency this time. Nico reaches a hand down and lets his fingers graze Matty's wrist as his fist moves back and forth, back and forth. He tips his head back against the pillows and it makes him cough, so he wriggles his shoulders until the pillows are better positioned, holding up his head. At this angle, his nose is running steadily, and his attempts to swipe at it with his sweatshirt sleeve are futile. He finds a clean patch of handkerchief and fits it around his nose, then gathers the rest of the cloth in his palm so he can hold it there with minimal effort.

"Okay?" Matty asks, breathless, and Nico nods again. He aches, but not in the only-terrible way he had before. He takes a breath, and lets it out, the air fluttering the edge of the handkerchief against his wrist, and closes his eyes. "Ready?"

He gives a little sigh of pleasure. "Yes."

Matty's body moves against his with pressure and speed, his hand on Nico's cock matching his pace, and it's all— it's all so fucking good. "Getting… close…" Matty gasps, and Nico heart rate and hips respond, and it's all fast and hard and perfect and he's so in the moment that he doesn't even realize that the tingling is back until the deeply congested HNGXXT-chuhhh bursts out into the handkerchief, which he presses tight for the follow-up h'HHH'TSCHMPH, and then loosens to get a deep breath for one more hh'ae'TSCHIIUUU!

He doesn't even try to blow his nose, just leaves the handkerchief in place in case there are more, because Matty's string of words, "Yes, good, that's it," has become a moan, and his hips are bucking against Nico, losing their rhythm, his fist stuttering in its strokes. Nico's whole body is tensed, ready to crash into two kinds of release, and he's not entirely sure which one will happen first until Matty gives one more weighted push with his hips and Nico comes hot and fast, spilling over Matty's fingers before Matty can grab the cloth.

They lie there for a moment, panting, and then Matty slowly and carefully pulls out and knots the condom and tosses it in among the dozens of tissues in the bedside trash, and then gently wipes his hands and Nico's belly clean.

He's dizzy in the aftermath. Like gravity no longer exists. Matty grabs a clean handkerchief from the bedside table and lies down beside him, holding him close and kissing his temple before pulling out a half-dozen tissues from the box and offering them up. Nico carefully switches them out for the mess of fabric in his hand and blows his nose over and over again. It feels like he's going to go through the whole box before he can even relax into Matty's arms, especially when a surprise hngxxt'shoo! just about starts the process from scratch. Matty just rubs his back and kisses his shoulder and waits, and eventually, finally, it feels like he can breathe.

He shivers and Matty pulls him tight to lie down with him again, arms wrapped around each other, Nico's forehead to Matty's chest.

Matty pulls the sheets and comforter back up over them both. "Not sure that was good for your fever." Concerned. "You're pretty warm."

"Was good," Nico murmurs, already halfway to sleep. "For ehh… everythihhh…" He tries to pull back to get his new handkerchief to his nose, but Matty just holds him tight. "heh-tSCHiew!" He sniffs. "For everything." He does manage to untangle his arm from Matty's so that he can dry the spot where he'd caught Matty's chest with spray, and then immediately bury his face into the handkerchief for a forceful t'CHOO! eh… heh. ekt'TSCHIU!

"Sorry my cock doesn't actually have cold-curing powers," Matty says sympathetically. "Was worth a try, though."

Nico laughs hoarsely. "Speak for yourself, I feel better already." He nestles into the sweatshirt, and the blankets, and Matty's strong arms. "I bet by the time you get this I'll be feeling well enough to experiment some more." Matty threads his fingers into his hair, and Nico just about purrs. "See if mine works on you."

"Yours always works on me." Matty hooks a leg over Nico's, and then rubs his back when Nico starts coughing. "You've got to get better first, though." Nico nods sleepily against him. "You want to clean up some more now? Or later?"

"Later," Nico says, although he's not sure much of the word could actually be understood. He'll undoubtedly wake up at midnight, disoriented, needing medicine and another dozen tissues; he'll take care of things then.

"Okay," Matty says, and if he says anything else Nico doesn't hear it, because he's already asleep in his arms.

ao3 link, again... thanks for reading!

#snz #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #hindsight 'verse #anditvanisheslikemist writes

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rickie-the-storyteller · 10 months

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Incorrect Quotes - Bret Edition

It's Bret time!

Here are 20 incorrect quotes for Bret, made with this generator:

Let's go!

Bret: *spits mouthful of blood onto floor* You’ve become far more powerful since we last crossed paths. Dentist: Please stop, there’s literally a sink right next to you.

Bret: You know the sound a fork makes in the garbage disposal? That's the sound that my brain makes all the time.

Bret: When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what the hell am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Bret lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the person who's gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!

Hairdresser: How would you like your hair cut? Bret: Preferably with scissors, but a sword could be badass.

Bret: My expectations were low but holy fuck.

Bret: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.

Bret: New challenge! Don't say stupid shit for 24 hours!

Bret: Welcome to my very first vlog, in which I try different hair products! Bret: sprays hairspray in their mouth Bret: Well, right off the bat I can tell you this one is not very good.

Bret: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Bret: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

Bret: Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my actions.

Bret: I am so horny and angry all the time.

Bret: You treat an outside wound with rubbing alcohol. You treat an inside wound with drinking alcohol.

Bret, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

Bret: Hello, I'm Bret. I work at a shop now. Here to help. Look, they gave me a badge with my name on it in case I forget it. Very helpful, as that does happen.

Bret: I don’t go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me first.

Bret: I said "no" to drugs, but they didn't listen.

Bret: Do you ever think? Because I do not.

Bret, at the slightest provocation: I came into this earth screaming and covered in someone else's blood and I'm not afraid to leave the same way.

Bret: *writing a letter* Bret: Dear Santa, I'm writing to let you know I've been naughty… And it was worth it you fat, judgemental bastard.

Bret: I'm naturally funny because my life is a joke.

#rickie-the-storyteller #writerblr #writing #steph's crew #original story #original content #original characters #Bret #incorrect quotes

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timotheechlamett · 3 years

Text

STEP-LOVER

WARNINGS: step-brother/sister relations, daddy kink?, praise kink.

Timothée Chalamet x Fem OC/Reader.

_________________________________

My earliest memory is at about 2 or 3 years old, my father was trying to teach me a new word.

"Look at me, look at Daddy-" He gives a tickle to my side catching my attention, "Can you say water?"

I stared at him for a moment before mumbling, "Wabah?" A puzzled look on my face.

He gave a hearty chuckle at my butchered pronunciation, but praised me anyways.

As I grew older all I can remember about him is that he was colder towards me, almost like he didn't really know how to love me anymore.

Now any male, who's even remotely attractive, that gives me the slightest bit of attention or praise for anything, I latch onto them. Which brings me to my current issue.

It's completely ludicrous the feelings I possess towards Timothée. Well I wouldn't say feelings plural, more so one particular feeling.

Lust.

I certainly didn't help my own case by staring every chance I could, or the fact he never wears a shirt around the house, or that he is completely and utterly the most beautiful human being to roam this earth.

He walks into the kitchen grabbing a cup from the cabinet, with a turn of his head we make eye contact and he grins, “Morning.”

“Morning.” I give a closed grin back, picking a piece of French toast up with my fork.

God, that jawline kills me every time. But that's besides the point.

It wasn't a type of lust I had felt before, he invaded every single thought that I had. I dreamt about him, I fantasized about him daily in my journal, I wear revealing clothes every day in hopes of him making a move on me. The only problem is that he's my step-brother.

Yes, my newly wed father's wife's son is my current infatuation.

“Where are they?” He asks turning the tap on.

“Some brunch thing at Brandy’s, they left not too long ago.” I drop my head staring at my half eaten breakfast.

“Jesus, does she ever give herself a break from hosting?” He gives a scoff, looking my direction once more.

Still looking down at my plate I give a toothy grin at his remark, “If you lived her life, would you?” I look up meeting his gaze.

“Good point.” He finishes his glass of water setting the cup in the sink, leaning against it.

“How long will they be gone?” He inquires.

“It’s Brandy, probably all day.” I dump my leftovers in the trash and turn to the sink cleaning my dish, I can feel the heat from his bare chest on my upper arm.

His eyes burn into the side of my head as I rinse my plate, I could feel a nervous sweat starting up from the intensity.

“Yes Timothée?” I question placing my now clean dish on the rack.

“Do you have plans today?” He entraps me with his arms on either side of my body as I turn to face him.

I look up at him, “No, why?” It comes out a little quieter than I would’ve liked, my heart beat picking up.

A snarky smile plays on his face and he pushes himself off the counters edge, walking away, his sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips.

“Come.” He beckons, walking up the steps.

Curiosity getting the best of me I follow him up the stairs slowly. He opens my bedroom door stepping inside, waiting for me to get closer to him.

“What exactly are you do-“

He pulls me in before closing the door and facing me again. He takes a couple steps towards me, our bodies a mere inch apart as he’s looking down on me.

“I thought we could hang out, sis.” He twirls a piece of my hair between his fingers, “You said you didn’t have plans.”

I do my best to breathe normally, he’s never been this close to me let alone touch me in any way. The whole scene is like something out of my journal, I must be in a dream.

“W-well what do you want to do?” I say quietly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks and my pussy.

He drops the piece of hair and takes my wrist gently in his hand, leading me to my bed. He sits on the edge pulling me with him.

“Lie down.” He looks me in the eyes.

What.

“W-what?” I stutter trying to maintain eye contact.

“Lie. Down.” He says slower, more intimidating.

Slowly I bring my legs onto the duvet and lay down with my hands at my sides. He scoots back and lays beside me, turning on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“This..Is this us hanging out to you?” I send a puzzled look his way.

He’s quiet for a second, “Have you ever been with a boy before?”

I feel my pussy tingle more intensely.

A shocked expression on my face, “What?!”

“Have you ever been-“

“Timothée! I heard you, but what the fuck??”I sit up staring at him wide eyed, my folds now throbbing.

This is not fucking happening. He did not just ask me that.

“I know by the way.” His face blank of emotion.

There’s a beat of silence.

“I don’t follow?” My heart rate picks up again.

He stares at me for a moment before his lips part into a smirk.

“What? Do you think I don’t see the looks you give me? That I haven’t read the dirty things you’ve written about your ‘infatuation’, I know it’s me.”

My heart drops and the blood drains from my face.

“Or hear you when you touch yourself late at night.” He gets close to my face.

Kill me, please.

I feel like I could throw up, cry, and die at the same time, my fantasy has now become a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Embarrassment courses through my veins and I feel myself getting teary eyed.

“No it- That’s not- I promise it’s not.“

“Shh, it’s okay.” He coos, “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.” He caresses the back of my head running his thumb along the side of my face.

I can’t even form any words seeing as I am completely and utterly mortified right now.

“I notice a lot of things about you. You caught my attention long before now.” His voice laced with seduction, “You think I haven’t thought about you too?”

I study his face trying to see if there’s any sign he’s messing with me but, he’s completely serious.

“Have you ever been with a boy before?” He asks again softly, releasing me and propping himself on his elbow.

“Once.” I whisper out slightly embarrassed, my core fluttering.

He moves my hair from my face, lingering in the strands, “Get undressed.”

I slowly bring my hands up to remove my tank top off as well as my shorts, hesitantly sliding my underwear down over my ankles. There’s fire in my cheeks as I’m completely bare in front of him for the first time. My core burning just the same as my face. I lie back down next to him.

“So fucking beautiful.” He whispers, bending my knees slightly, watching my face, his hand trickling down my thigh.

He circles his thumb around my bundle of nerves still watching me. I drop my eyes to his movements, a heavy sigh leaving my lips as he uses his middle and ring finger to assault my swollen and soaking clit further.

He moves in between my parted legs, replacing his fingers with his tongue. Licking and sucking just enough, I try to hold my moans by biting my bottom lip, he inserts his finger with ease. Pumping slowly and curling it upwards as he devours my pussy.

“You taste so fucking good, mon trésor.” He hums against my heat.

Unable to stifle myself any longer I let out a drawn out whine twisting my fingers in his hair. I open my legs further letting his face plant deeper into my core as I feel my climax approaching quickly.

He inserts another finger making me sigh out in ecstasy, my muscles tighten around them as I writhe about pushing his face deeper. I try to form something to say but can’t, the feeling he’s giving me making it impossible to speak.

Just before I’m about to reach my high he pulls away completely, I moan out at the empty feeling, my legs numb already and my body floating.

“P-please I-“ I breathe out but can’t finish.

“Patience kitten.”

He starts to remove his bottoms and I find the courage to help him take off his briefs, starting to bring my mouth to the head of his length. He stops me in my tracks.

“No.” I give him a strange look, “I’m here to please you.” He pushes me backwards so I lie down on my pillow once more.

He hovers about, taking in every detail of me. His lips ghosting above my own, he plants soft kisses over and over.

“Do you want this?” His voice hushed and full of question.

“Do you?” I whisper.

“More than anything, but I don’t want to force you.”

I run my hands down his arms, taking in our current situation. Having sex had never been this intimate for me.

“I do want this. So bad.” My eyes meet his.

He lowers himself to kiss my parted lips, his length pushing against my already soaked mound. He doesn’t break the kiss as he teases my opening with the head of his dick, ever so slowly. I gasp once more at the contact arching my hips up in hopes of helping him enter.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He taunts.

“Tim.” I whine with pleading eyes.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He peppers kisses on my chest and neck.

“Please fuck me, please. I need you.” I almost cry out, in both desperation and arousal.

He lines himself up with my slit pushing in slowly, making me feel every inch. I wince at the initial pain of his thick shaft. He brings my hands up above my head interlocking his own fingers with mine until he’s bottomed out deep into my pussy.

“You’re doing so good, mon amour.” He moves back and pushes forward again, “So fucking tight. Such a good girl.” He groans watching me, his lips parted

I dig my nails into his hands only able to gasp at the pressure, the pain subsiding as he pulls himself in and out gently and slowly. A wave of pleasure engulfs my entire body and I let soft moans out.

“Timothée-“ I pant in question.

“Amour?” He sighs in pleasure.

“Faster, please.”

He wastes no time moving his hips quicker, not going harder than before as I adjust to his cock. My moans become uncontrollably loud, I throw my head back deep into the pillow. He lets go of one hand to grip my neck gently, forcing me to face him. He slides deeper into my core hitting just the right spot sending me into a frenzy.

“Fuck! Right there, d-don’t stop-“ I moan loudly.

“Mmm, right there?” He thrusts harder in the same motion, deep moans leaving his throat.

I feel the muscles wrapped around him tighten like iron, my wetness dripping down the both of us as I start to feel overwhelmed.

“Tim- I can’t- It’s too much, it’s-“ I drag out whining.

“It’s okay mon ange, let go. You’re okay.” He supports the back of my head so I’m forced to let him see me unwind.

One. Two. Three thrusts and I completely unravel before him. My eyes roll in the back of my head and I grip his sides with my nails, dragging them down, my walls nearly crush his length as he continues pumping.

“Timothée!” I scream his name over and over as I finally release.

“That’s my girl, cum on my dick.” He growls and gives a throaty moan as his strokes become sloppy.

He thrusts a few more times letting me ride out my own high before he reaches his, pulling out and finishing on my stomach. He collapses onto me, both of us catching our breath and recovering from the events that have taken place.

He gets up going into my bathroom before bringing out a warm towel to clean both of us off. He throws it to the side and drops next to me nuzzling his face into my neck playing with my hair once more.

“Did that really just happen?” I croak, feeling high from the whole account.

“Yes.” He chuckles, “And I don’t see a stop to it any time soon.” He plants tender kisses to my jaw.

We share a gaze before he locks his lips with mine in a passionate kiss before pulling away and gripping my chin to look at him.

“You’re mine now.

And I was.

Completely his and no one else’s.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #lil timmy tim #timmy chalamet #chalamet #timothee #timothée #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet x fem oc #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet smut #timothée chalamet one shot #timothée chalamet fluff #timothée chalamet smut #timothée chalamet c reader #timothée chalamet x fem oc #timothée chalamet fic #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fanfic

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lazysimp · 3 years

Text

may we get some more moments of bull bakugo and cow y/n plz? 🤲

A/N: Sure anon, I hate to say it but I like this AU more than should. These are the features I imagined Bakugou/reader has.

Warnings/tags: cow boy, animal hybrid fic, oral sex, anal sex, male reader, 18+ MDNI

wc: 1.3k

How Bull Bakugou reacts to you being taken away

In the weeks following Bakugou first claiming the two of you had never been separated longer than a few minutes. He was obsessed, always keeping you within arms reach until today.

After a long night of fun, the two of you curled up under his favorite tree enjoying the breeze on a hot day. This is how most of your days were spent. In the distance, you could hear the sound of the metal machines coming closer but you had nothing to worry about, the humans only ever dropped off food or new friends. But today their plan seemed to change.

The black metal machine stopped a little distance away and two humans stepped out, one was holding some strange stick and the other a large cloth bag.

You looked down to your sleeping boyfriend and wondered if you should wake him, maybe he would know what to do, but before you could try to do anything a sharp prick jabbed into your thigh.

You look down to see a small shiny tube sticking out of your thigh with a bright feather on its top. Before you could warn Bakugou, one of the tubes stuck his thigh, shocking him awake, but it was too late. Whatever they did to you already had you falling into darkness, listening to the bellow of rage as Bakugou realized too late what was happening.

Your groggy eyes opened a few hours later, you take a quick survey of your surroundings and realize they must have taken you back to the main barn. Being a hybrid you don’t get many interactions with humans, both species usually choosing to leave the other in peace.

The door to your pin opened and a farmer with green hair opened the door, you smile with relief. He had been one of the humans you used to see when you lived in the barn.

“Sorry to disturb your rest little one,” he mumbled, opening up a small case. “You are due for a couple of shots and a quick checkup just to make sure you are healthy.”

You nod, relieved. Checkups, when you lived near the main barn, were common. You hoped they told Bakugou what was going on.

The kind farmer’s hands expertly delivered your shots and took a few vitals before leading you back to the metal machine. You waved bye as the farmhand drove back to the pasture, back to Bakugou.

But the scene you return to was nothing you were expecting. The fence surrounding the grass field was all but in ruins. The strong wood posts having been ripped from the ground. The metal feeding pin that held hay was lying in pieces around the field. You look around trying to see if a storm had come through only to see the cause of all the damage.

Bakugou was rushing towards the truck, fury etched on his face as he prepared to ram it. The farmhand quickly opened the door keeping you inside and gently pushes you out before rushing away.

You don’t even have time to look up before he is on top of you, rubbing his hands over your skin. You try to get out a few words, to reassure him you were fine, but he was not listening. His frantic eyes inspected every inch of your skin, making sure the humans had not done something to you.

Once his eyes slowed to meet you you give him a soft smile, trying to show him that you were ok, but he needed more. His heart was racing, since he had woken up with you, not by his side he had been on a rampage. Anything that had been in his path was now rubble. Despite now having you safe in his arms, adrenaline was still pumping through him.

Not waiting another minute his hand clamps around your neck, gently pushing your back to the ground.

You spread open your knees, already knowing what he had planned. His mouth was on you in seconds, taking your cock deep into his mouth. You let out a small whine, already overwhelmed. Bakugou had made it his life's mission to find exactly what made you tick. He spent hours teasing your sweet body, watching silently as you wither around, taking mental notes at what moves made you crazy.

If you thought he was good before, he was a god now. Sucking your cock into his mouth with the exact pressure he knew would drive you higher. He did not bother to open your with his fingers, he knew your ass would still be stretched from the night before.

It only took a few more lashes of his tongue before your legs clamped together around his head. He moaned on your cock, enjoying the feel of your soft thighs around his head.

When your body stops trembling he pries open your knees, keeping them open as his cock lined up with your entrance. You are too dazed from your orgasm to do anything but lie there as he slowly sinks into your heat.

You both groan at the sensation of him entering you, the burn of the stretch only making the pleasure feel more intense.

He does not give you time to adjust before he is running into you, his heavy balls hitting your skin with each deep thrust. His deep grunts filled your ears, telling you how much he loved being inside you, filling you up with his cum.

A tightness starts to grow in your lower abdomen, like a rope slowing twisting, building tension with each thrust. Your legs started to tremble around him, the muscles quivering with anticipation.

You were already so close, you just needed a little bit more. But Bakugou was not going to let you off that easy. Changing the angle of his thrusts until the tightness loosened. You let out a cry of protest, wanting that feeling to return.

"Beg," he growled into your ear, "Beg if you want to cum on my cock."

You wanted to have outraged, to yell at him and demand more. Instead, your pretty lips opened to say, "Please Bakugou, please let me cum on your cock."

His hips shifted again, his thrusts now hitting the pleasure spot inside your ass. "More," he groaned, "Beg me for more."

"Bakugou," you cry, losing the ability to think, "Please, I really need to cum, please let me cum. I'll be a good boy I promise, please just let me cum."

"A good boy hm? What does my good boy want me to do?" he panted, his thrusts growing sloppier.

"My cock," you babble, barely coherent, "Please play with my cock."

His lips press themselves on your forehead, wordlessly rewarding your words as his hand slipped down your body, settling on your straining cock. Your body jolts as fingers rub across the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had accumulated.

His strong finger surrounded your cock, stroking the tender skin in time with his thrusts. It was enough. With a silent scream, the rope inside you released, sending you spiraling.

You could not control your body as convulsions traveled through you, making every muscle tense. Bakugou watched his hard work pay off before your clenching hole finally pushed him over the edge. A low groan left his lips as he spilled inside you, his balls twitching as he filled you to the brim with his cum.

He does not bother to pull his cock out as he lifts you into his arms, holding your chest to chest as he carries you back to his tree. Having you filled with his cum finally allowed him to calm down enough to realize why you had been taken but he did not regret destroying everything around him. Humans needed to know who you belonged to the next time they try to take you away.

#bakugou thirst #mha thirsts #bnha thirst #bakugou x male reader #bakugou thirsts

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shingia · 3 years

Note

hopefullyy this inspires u to write,,, can i request hc's of the boys getting jealous seeing their s/o work well with another person on a team/club? like good chemistry with a dance partner for example! (u can choose who u write but can it include iwa!!) <33

✗ HQ BOYS GETTING JEALOUS SEEING YOU WORK WELL WITH ANOTHER PERSON ✗

a/n : kdjfkdjdkdj i love this request omg ty ! i did half hc/half scenarios bc i thought the request fitted this format <3

-> iwaizumi, osamu, kuroo, suna, tsukishima

-> warnings : kuroo’s a bit suggestive (tbh i don’t know about the rest. it’s just... kinda hot? (tsukki’s only fluff tho<3))

-> reblogs are >>>>

— IWAIZUMI

• iwa’s jealousy was practically non existent until he actually saw you interact with your partner

• don’t get me wrong, he absolutely loves your smile - but he especially loves to be the one who caused it

• he tends to get physically very protective of you, so expect his arm to stay wrapped around your shoulders most of the time. because to him it’s the easiest way to show the world (but especially your partner) that you’re his

• he also not-so-subtly offers you to wear his clothes on days when you have practice. and he secretly hopes that someone will ask you who they belong to...

« it’s cold outside. you should wear this ». iwa’s low and unannounced voice makes you turn around in surprise. leaned against the bathroom’s doorframe, he’s holding your favorite jacket in his hand - the one with his name written on the back, and you suspect that this might not be a coincidence... with a chuckle, you agree to put it on, noticing the proud spark in his eyes. « you know, i’m pretty sure everyone already knows i’m dating you » you tease him with a wink, all while also admiring the way his name takes up the whole width of your back. « oh yeah ? » he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans forward to rest his hands on the sink behind you. trapped between his outstretched arms, you watch his smirk grow just a little bit bigger as he lets out, very quietly, « well this is just a reminder... it better be the last ». his green eyes locked with yours could almost make you forget about his arm snaking around your waist at a painfully slow pace. almost.

— OSAMU

• look, he’s very happy for you. no doubt about it. but he’s so used to see people fawn over his brother that he can’t help but get a little protective from time to time

• since gifts are his #1 love language, he might buy you a workout-friendly piece of jewelry that you can wear during your practice

• he also insists on dropping you off and picking you up as often as his busy schedule allows it. especially since he learned that your partner was willing to give you a ride home...

• it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, obviously. he just doesn’t trust them yet

• and that’s why his kisses - and pda in general - are a bit more « intense » than usual

leg bouncing up and down, osamu is (very) anxiously for your conversation with your teammate to end. because after watching the entirety of your practice, he needs a little reminder that you two also have incredible chemistry together... a better one, even. so as soon as he sees you wave your teammate goodbye, he stands up straight, arms open just wide enough to welcome you against his chest. but instead of the chaste kiss you expected to get, you’re actually greeted by his left hand grabbing your sides while his right meets your lower back. disconcerted, you don’t even have time to say a word that his mouth crashes onto yours so eagerly that you have to lean back a few inches. « wh-what was that for ? » you pant as soon as his warm lips have left yours. « nothing. i love ya, that’s all » he smiles innocently, glad that you didn’t notice the cocky look he just gave your teammate who witnessed everything from afar... exactly as planned.

— KUROO

• passive agressive™️

• he would insist on properly meeting your partner but oh god they better brace themselves,,,

• because kuroo’s the kind of boyfriend that will shake their hand hard enough to make them yelp, all while having an angelic smile plastered on his face

• oh and you can forget being called by your name : he’s going to demonstrate the entire variety of nicknames he has for you. he might even come up with new ones just because he’s feeling « inspired »

• every single thing he says to your partner has to be a reminder that you two are dating. like « oh yeah they told me about this yesterday.. during our date ». just to make sure that there’s no misunderstanding.

« well... speak of the devil », kuroo hears you chuckle, your voice almost drowned out by his heavy breathing. he’s obviously planing on apologizing for being late... but not now. there’s something he wants to do first. still very aware of your partner’s presence right in front of you, he decides to securely yet eagerly wrap his arms around your waist before spinning you around proudly. « so... you guys were talking about me ? » he asks, glad to know that he’s the reason behind your giggles. « we were, actually » you answer a bit more seriously as he finally puts you down, still keeping both his hands on your waist. « well, i am your boyfriend after all... » he starts, interrupting himself to place a loud peck on your jawline. the only thing you can think is about is how awful this situation must be for your partner... kuroo, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered at all, as shown by the way one of his hands discreetly makes its way under the fabric of your t-shirt to rest directly on your skin. « hands off, kuroo » you order him with a slap on the back of his hand. an offended gasp leaves his lips, yet he complies reluctantly, thinking that your partner probably already knows everything that needs to be known about him.

— SUNA

• he doesn’t really mind it... as long as you’re willing to cuddle once you get back from practice. if you’re not, then he’s gonna start to worry

• because cuddling is probably his favorite ‘boyfriend privilege’ and he doesn’t want it to be taken away from him

• his schedule is pretty tight so he might not be able to attend any of your practices, but he asks you to record it as much as you possibly can so that he can watch the videos with you afterwards

• and seeing how smoothly you and your partner move together definitely doesn’t help with his worrying

it’s been thirty minutes now, and suna’s still not done watching the videos you took today. he loves to share these moments with you, snuggled up against each other the bed ; but most importantly, he has someone to keep his eye on... « babe- are you 100% sure that this was part of the choreography? » he suddenly speaks up, his eyes leaving the screen for the first time. you quirk a curious eyebrow, more surprised by his unusually suspicious tone rather than by the question itself. « oh, the hand on my waist ? yes, rin. it was ». at your words, his lips press into a thin line, he’s obviously far from being convinced. but you know your boyfriend well and you’re quick to reassure him : « you know, his hand might have been on my waist but you’re the one laying in my bed right now ». the frown on his face disappears almost immediately - much faster than you would’ve thought, replaced by a much more confident expression as his hands start to gently stroke your sides up and down. « mmh, i guess you’re right.... i mean, at the end of the day, only i get to have ‘all of this’ for myself » he smirks, playfully eyeing you up and down until he can’t resist the temptation of your slightly parted lips anymore.

— TSUKISHIMA

• tsukki’s not jealous, he’s just... well.. cautious. or at least that’s what he tells you

• but, deep down, he knows that simple cautiousness wouldn’t make spend his days and nights stressing about this new partner of yours...

• so, after a few weeks, his impassible facade starts to crumble a little bit. nothing too extreme, but just enough to let your partner know that you’re taken.

• and he knows he doesn’t need to do much : one of his signature scornful looks is more than enough. especially when he’s staring at your partner dead in the eyes while you’re greeting him with a hug and a kiss after your practice

« tsukishima kei, i’m waiting for an explanation ». with a sigh, your boyfriend drops his book on the table, turning his chair around to face you. « i don’t have one, i already told you. you told me to introduce myself, and i did. end of story ». you both know that tsukki did not just ‘introduce himself’ like any other human being would have done. and that’s precisely what you’re trying to make him admit - because your partner looked genuinely scared during practice today. « wha- no, i didn’t look down on him. it’s not my fault he’s so short... » he mumbles under his breath, trying his best to avoid any eye contact with you. but you know that only a slight tilt of his chin upwards is enough to make his eyes lock with yours - and that this is enough to have him admit anything. « you’re jealous, kei. and it’s painfully obvious by the way... » you smirk - but this smirk disappears in a split second as he slowly gets up from his chair, towering over you like he usually does. « ok, maybe i am. but i just wanted to make sure that he knew his place. and especially mine » he finally admits, his lips spreading in a scornful smirk that would be terrifying if his eyes weren’t filled with the infinite tenderness he has always felt for you.

✔️taglist : @toworuu @catwithangerissues @miyumiya @livy384 @k0u-minamo2 @fullsundear @hsjvwq @mochi-marie @hiraeth-z @velvetvirgos @kirishimas-manly-eyeliner @47meow @japanesevenom @geektastic84 @noir-blanches-blog @idontlikeyourjob @seiri-ami @atiny-grl-with-luv @admiringlove @nachotrash @kellesvt @aintyourholy @Moonlaeli @catchmewiddershins @duhsies @devilgirlcrybabiey @crystal-lilac

#i only have 2 requests left besties :o #so uh- ask away ig <3 #(reading the rules before would be : 😻😻 ngl)#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #miya osamu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #suna rintarou x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Insatiable. ( Jungkook x OC)

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five. Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Summary :

21 year old Hwang Sera is sick of being the only human in an entire clan of vampires. As an immortal human from one of the oldest bloodlines, she is a catch. The Vampire she marries would essentially be indestructible.

Which makes her an easy target for greedy vampires everywhere.

Determined to keep his precious daughter safe, her father hires an old friend , Jeon Jungkook as her full time bodyguard.

Jungkook is 35 years old ( well technically 576 years old ) , father to an adorable five year old kid and he has zero tolerance for Sera and her teenage shenanigans. But , he needs the money and he knows his son would be safe in the Hwang clan’s massive mansion.

And suddenly, after years of despising vampires, all Sera can think about is getting into the gorgeous vampire’s bed and maybe into his heart.

Chapter 1

“He’s so hot.” My sister sighed for the seventeenth time and I glared at her.

“He’s mine. Back the fuck off.” I bared my non existent fangs at her and she retaliated by showing off her own inch long fangs, eyes flashing ruby red in the confines of our huge sprawling bedroom.

The man in question, my sparkling new bodyguard wasn’t here now. He was downstairs at the party, being introduced to the others as the latest addition to our clan.

My mouth watered when I remembered his gorgeous, handsome face. And that body , God.

Sculpted by some higher being who wanted to show off, for sure.

I had never given much thought to losing my virginity. It certainly wasn’t by design that I hadn’t had sex yet but looking at Jeon Jungkook in a fitted black suit, midnight black hair falling into his lovely red eyes and those delicious muscles.....

I kind of believed in fate now.

This was why I’d always been repulsed by the vampires who courted me.

Because Jeon Jungkook had been out there, waiting for me.

And now fate had brought him here and he was going to be mine.

I stumbled over a stray bra, nearly face planting onto the floor .

God, i hated how messy Somi was but I was also eternally grateful that she had skipped out on the party tonight, volunteering to help me with the kids.

I ran a daycare in one of the larger cottages in the estate, keeping the little fanged devils in check while the parents went about their daily lives. On nights like this, when my father hosted guests from every clan in the country for one of his lavish parties, there was always a whole bunch of bite-happy toddlers in need of supervision.

Enter me.

I loved babies. I’d always loved them. They were adorable. And after three years of school , I was finally, officially qualified in caring for them.

Oh and by the way did i tell you that Jungkook had a son? Jeon Joowon was possibly the cutest five year old I’d ever seen and yes I was a little biased but that was okay. I was going to be the kids step mom , after all.

Listen, don’t look at me like that, I just really want to be with Jungkook okay?

I tripped over the same bra when turning back around and I swore.

Focus, Sera. You can day dream about hot vampire daddy later.

“ Why do you have to throw your shit all over the place like this? “ I whined, grabbing the offensive piece of fabric and tossing it at her. She caught is so fast I went a little cross eyed. My sister never missed an opportunity to show off her super-saiyan, vampire powers. That made her a crowd favorite with the toddlers and younglings .

“I still don’t think your choice of a career is smart. These fanged little beasts are impossible to control... ” She commented mildly, watching me stuff two whole cartons of baby wipes into the huge backpack I had propped against the bed. I’d forgotten to restock the day care with wet wipes and it was sheer luck that I had a pair of them lying around my room.

The very idea of entering a room full of babies and toddlers without baby wipes, made me shudder.

“Listen, they’re absolute angels when you listen to what they’re saying. Just because babies can’t talk doesn’t mean they don’t have preferences. All you really need to do is find out what each kid likes and help them feel comfortable -”

“Please stop.” She rolled her eyes and I glared at her.

“I’m a little thirsty. Can i have a sip..” She said softly and I frowned.

“You haven’t drunk from me the entire day. Are you okay?” I held my wrist out.

She shrugged , grabbing my wrist and casually sinking her fangs into the vein . Pain bloomed, familiar and somehow comforting , replaced almost at once by the gentle numbing of her venom. She drank a little and pulled back soon after, linking the puncture wounds for good measure. I watched the skin knit itself together , whole and unmarred in no time.

Perks of being immortal.

The knock on the door made me jump.

“Ms Hwang?” Jungkook’s soft, husky voice came floating through the door and I grinned, cheeks aching with how wide my smile was.

“You look like a maniac. Stop smiling.” My sister looked a little alarmed and I struggled to rearrange my features. Sticking my tongue out at her, I grabbed my sweatshirt, slipping it overhead quickly. I glanced at the mirror, grimacing a bit.

Being with toddlers meant no make up or hair left free.... and so I had a messy top bun, and just lip gloss to look presentable. While the entire party teemed with gorgeous vampires in low cut gowns and blood red lips.

Ugh.

I grabbed the backpack and waved to Somi.

“Come as soon as you can alright?” I begged her and she waved me off.

I rushed to the door, throwing it open and smiling wide.

“Hi oppa.” I said cheerfully.

“I’m not your oppa.” Jungkook said automatically, barely glancing at me and instead reaching for the backpack. He directed me to the stairwell on the side, the one that led straight down to the ground floor and out into the gardens. He went in first and I followed him, climbing down carefully.

I sighed, taking in the mouth watering width of his shoulders, encased in a perfectly fitted jacket. He looked so handsome I wanted to cry. And although he’d been here for a whole week month now, I hadn’t managed to get into his good graces.

“What do I call you, then?” I made to hold his hand when we reached the end of the staircase but he shook my arm off at once.

Did I tell you that he really can’t stand me for some reason?

“As I’ve mentioned a dozen times already, Mr. Jeon would suffice.” He said shortly. He held the door leading out into the gardens open and I walked through.

“That makes you seem so old.” I grimaced, shaking my head and he gave me an amused look.

“I am 576 years old.” He deadpanned. The daycare cottage was just a five minute walk from the mansion and the pathway through the garden was absolutely beautiful, well lit and covered in the brightest flowers.

I waved off his excuse about his age.

“you don’t look a day over twenty five to me.” I said with a shrug. He shook his head, clearly too tired to carry the conversation on. We walked in silence and I felt incredibly content, just with him near.

And he was going to be by my side for the rest of our lives, I thought softly. I would make sure of it. I’d never felt this way about anyone. Jungkook was a good man , evident in literally everything he did. He was kind, an amazing father and such a gentleman that he made me melt.

Jungkook had been turned at the age of 35. And so he sailed through eternity with the gorgeous good looks of a mature , well kept man. His hair was thick, just a slight bit of grey peppering the edges and his features were sharp and well defined.

“Is Joowon in the daycare already?” I asked with a smile and he nodded curtly.

“He has Mr. Pepper with him. He refused to leave him behind. please just make sure he still has him with him when he leaves. He can’t fall asleep without the bunny “ He said softly and I felt my heart bloom ten sizes.

“Of course, I will -”

“Jungkook !!!” The shrill voice broke the stillness of the night like a hammer through a mirror.

I turned around with a frown only to be greeted by the sight of a very pretty, very tall vampire in a blood red bodycon dress and a neckline that plunged all the way to her belly button. She had ruby red lips, and well made eyes. Eyes that now flashed red , dilating as they ran up and down his body.

I felt myself clenching my fists.

“I’m getting late....we need to go, I grabbed his arm trying to tug him along but he didn’t budge. i glanced at his face and felt my heart shatter at the small smile playing around his lips.

“Helena..... Surprise seeing you here....” He drawled, voice so much deeper than usual and I bit my lips. They knew each other?

The vampire had reached us now and she gave me a disdainful smile.

“Who’s this?” She asked with a laugh, “ Are you babysitting now, Jeon?”

I bristled. To my utter chagrin, Jungkook laughed to.

“She’s the kid I’m watching. The Immortal human of the Hwang clan.” He intoned dully.

The lady’s brows went up in surprise.

“:The rumors are true, ....The Hwang clan’s hidden jewel.....with skin like the rarest pearl and eyes that steal souls. Fiercely guarded ...a beauty like no other.... I thought they were exaggerating, but I see they were not. . You’re exquisite.” She commented , seemingly genuine in the compliment as her eyes roved over my features.

“ Um.. thanks?” I shrugged, not particularly flattered by the extravagant description.

The poets in my clan tended to be a bit overdramatic at times.

. She laughed.

“Are you unavailable for the night, then Jeon?” She turned her flashing eyes on him .

My jaw nearly dropped.

Did this bitch really just proposition-

“Afraid so.... Raincheck?” Jungkook smiled wide and he looked so beautiful that I had to bit my lips to stop from moaning.

Helena waved softly, eyes shifting back to me.

“Be safe, little human. When the sun goes down, the ghouls come out to play.” She grinned wide, letting her fangs grow long, past her lower lip, eyes red and bloody.

I stared right back. She laughed and waved before floating away into the night.

Jungkook chuckled.

“You’re not intimidated by us, then.” He said mildly as we began walking again.

“I spent the entirety of my childhood playing with vampires. Do you really think they didn’t spend every waking hour trying to scare me to death?”

He gave me soft smile, and then went back to staring straight ahead.

I relaxed when the familiar cottage came into view, the sound of laughing kids reaching me.

I held my hand out for the backpack and Jungkook gave it to me.

“I’ll just check out the backyard and see if al the gates are secure and then I’ll be right outside the door, alright? Call out if you need me...” He said sharply

“Will you come even if I call you oppa?” I bit my lips, grinning and he flicked my nose.

“Behave.” He said shortly. I sighed.

“I’m not a kid, you know.” I said softly and he gave me a look.

“You are to me. Now get inside.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There’s a monster behind the tree and I’m Hawkeye because I have the bow and arrow and Jieun is the princess.” Joowon said brightly, showing off the toy bow and arrow in his hand and I grinned, taking in his exquisite features. He looked strikingly like his father , except for the two adorable dimples that showed up everytime he smiled.

“That’s amazing... do you like fighting monsters?” I asked with a grin holding my arms out for him and he hugged me happily.

“Yes, I like fighting monsters and I like Mr. Pepper.” He waved the stuffed bunny in my face.

“Make sure you keep him safe, alright? “ I stroked the soft skin of the

“So what color does your daddy like?” I asked with a grin. I felt a sharp kick on my shin and I turned to my sister.

“Don’t use the fucking kid for your sinful aims, you dingbat!” She hissed and I glared at her.

“I did no such thing...I was just making conversation....” I hissed back.

“Dad likes black.” Joowon answered dutifully and I ruffled his hair. Jieun appeared then, having waited for her prince and gotten bored. She tugged on Joowon’s arm and I let him go, watching the two of them run off.

“Its only been a month, Sera.... I think you should tone down the infatuation. You know dad would never approve.” My sister said gently and I frowned.

“No he won’t, Dad loves me , he wants me to be happy.” I said shortly.

“Yes, but not with Jungkook. He’s a rogue vampire. He doesn’t have a clan. He has a kid ...”

“An angel of a kid...”

“he has a kid whose mother he had to kill because she was a bloodthirsty witch.”

i stared at my sister feeling anger build inside me.

“What does any of that have to do with how I feel about him?” I demanded , moving to stop one of the littles from tripping over a stray rubik’s cube.

“ You’re special. You’re being courted by some of the richest, most powerful vampires in the country and you want to go after the rogue , broke vampire who’s only here because he needs the money and the safety of our clan?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” I said firmly.

Somi sighed.

“I’m just saying. Don’t be so blatantly open about your feelings. You’ll be putting a target on Jungkook’s back.”

I exhaled sharply.

“If anyone tries to hurt him, they die.” I said softly.

Somi chuckled.

“I know.... but still, he’s not looking for trouble. Don’t bring it to his doorstep.”

I didn’t reply, moving quickly to the other side of the room.

the words left a bitter taste on my tongue.

Mostly because my sister was right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i stared at the tall strapping vampire, trying to comprehend what I was hearing.

“What do you mean he isn’t here for the night?” I demanded.

“He’s a little tired. He told me had a little too much to drink and he wants to sleep it off. I’ll be here instead ... Just for tonight.” He tried to smile reassuringly and I was momentarily distracted by very deep dimples but I could feel myself fuming.

“and he didn’t think of saying that to me himself? He had to run off while i was closing up the cottage?” I glared.

The Vampire chuckled.

“He told me you might protest.”

“Of course i protest, I feel safer with him...” I said sharply.

The Vampire gave me a deep sigh.

“I’ve been doing this for three centuries, Miss Hwang. You’re definitely safe with me.” He bowed his head.

“What’s your name?” I demanded.

“Kim Namjoon.”

“Fine , Kim Namjoon ssi.... Let’s go. “

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giving Namjoon the slip was a lot easier than I thought. I waited for him to greet my great uncle, and slipped between two waiters carrying blood cocktails and weaved into the crowd easily.

Jungkook’s bedroom was next to mine and it took me less than a minute to race up the stairs and to his room.

i banged on the door , determined to see for myself just how drunk he’d gotten.

The door opened and i took a deep breath.

“How dare you leave me-”

I froze when I realized that he was shirtless, fresh out of the shower. Water dripped down his torso , like little starbursts of liquid light and my mouth went dry. I swallowed, staring at the tightly packed abs, the dip of his v line as it disappeared into a fluffy white towel.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He growled angrily.

My eyes flew to meet his and then my gaze caught something red on his bed and I peered over his shoulder.

Pain lanced through my heart so sharp that I felt like I’d taken a fucking brick to my chest.

The sight of Helena, naked except for a red bra, stretched out on his bed got burned into my brain and I choked.

“You-” I began but he grabbed my arm, so hard that I knew I would bruise. He yanked me away from the threshold of his room, dragging me to the middle of the hallway as he slammed the door to his room shut.

“Where the fuck is Namjoon?”

“You ditched me to get laid? “ I hissed in disbelief.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re doing this-”

“Is she your girlfriend-”

“Sera-” he shook me again but I refused to back down. I had to know.

“Are you in love with her?!!!” I demanded, my heart breaking .

Jungkook growled.

“It’s none of your damned business!!” He snapped angrily .

“It is !!” I said shrilly.

“Why on earth-”

“Because I’m in love with you!!” I shouted and he froze.

He let go of me like he’d been burned and stepped back, staring at me wide eyed,.

“What did you just say?” He demanded.

“I want you. I want you to court me-”

“Sera stop.” He said sharply

“I’m not joking...I like you and-”

“Shut up.” He growled, his voice shaking.

I swallowed.

“If you say something as asinine as that to me , ever again... I will make you regret it. ” He warned softly.

I felt my heart jerk in panic.

“Jungkook-”

“It’s Mr. Jeon to you!!!” He growled.

I bit my lips, staring at my feet.

“I’m going to pretend this never happened. You’re going to go to your room and wait for Namjoon. If anything like this ever happens again, I’m telling your father.”

I laughed bitterly.

“I’m not fucking twelve years old you son of a bitch. Stop talking to me like I’m your toy or something !” I snarled.

“If you were my toy I would fucking spank you till you cry and lock you in a damn room!” He hissed.

I flinched.

He took a deep shaky breath.

“This never happened.” He said sharply. “ I’m not one of your boytoys. I have no interest in fledgling humans who know nothing about life. That's not the kind of woman I’m looking for. You’re not the kind of woman I’m looking for because you aren’t even a woman yet.”

“ Jungkook !!!” Namjoon’s voice rang through the hallway and I stepped back.

“Have a good night with your whore, Mr. Jeon.” I snapped, before turning on my heel and leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Hot DILF! Vampire Jungkook is hot. This brings back fond memories of me panting after my husband as a nineteen year old brat . I was a devilish teenager smitten with a twenty seven year old man. Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed :D

#jungkook #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook vampire #jungkook vampire au #jungkook reaction #bts vampire au #bts smut #bts au

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Love Bite

Pairing: vampire!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Vampire!AU] Despite how deadly it may appear at first glance, you love your vampire boyfriend with all your heart, so when Clay goes a bit too long without a drink, you’re more than willing to help him.

Warnings: tw// mentions of blood & general vampire shenanigans

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see vampire dream! this was lots of fun to explore, and i hope you all enjoy! <3

You scroll mindlessly along your mouse, your laptop screen illuminating your dim room with a pale glow as image after image pops up on your screen. Your assignment lies long forgotten on the side of your desk, the tab still open just a single click away.

“Whatever,” you mumble quietly to yourself as you click on another link. Your gaze briefly flickers to the calendar on your wall before you shake your head. “I still have another week to work on it—it’s fine.”

Letting out a sigh, you slump over onto your desk, pressing your cheek against the cool wood as you sweep your gaze over to your balcony window. Outside, the sky is dark, the vast expanse washed with a deep, navy hue as the stars begin to peek out from the shadows and gaze down at the bustling city below. It’s a little past midnight now, and despite how late it is, the streets are just as busy as ever. You only catch a small glimpse of the crescent moon hanging among them before your gaze drops to your balcony.

Yet again, it’s empty, completely devoid of life.

The sight makes you frown, and you tear your gaze away from the sight and back to your laptop, continuing your scrolling with a sulk.

It had been a little over four days since you had last seen your boyfriend. Not that you’re counting or anything, of course. It’s just that you’ve gotten lonely without him, and you’re starting to miss him more than you’d like to admit.

Having a vampire boyfriend and being a human isn’t always the easiest, but you’re more than willing to put up with it for him. You can still remember the day he had broken the news to you, having been fully prepared to sacrifice his life right then and there for you if you chose to call for a hunter. But you hadn’t—you chose to stay, to love him.

And love him you do.

There may be times where he has to disappear for a little while that leave you cold and wanting, but the time you do spend together more than makes up for it. He’s overwhelmingly kind, honestly stubborn, and always loves to put a smile on your face, no matter how bad of a day you may have had. You can’t possibly count how many times you’ve thrown yourself into his arms with the widest grin on your face, all just to feel him laugh against you with a soft kiss behind your ear. There’s no one else in the world for you, living or undead, and you are willing to wait for him. It’s embarrassing to think about, but you really would walk to the ends of the earth just for him.

Heat creeps up your neck at the thought, and you force it down with a huff, ducking your head back down again and staring at your assignment. You distantly think of your phone sitting next to your bed and the string of messages you had sent him a few hours prior, all of which remain unopened. Kicking your legs, you whine, burying your face into your arms upon your desk.

Tonight is just not your night, it seems.

Just then, you hear it—the unmistakable sound of nails tapping on glass.

Lifting your head, you blink, slowly turning to look over at your window. Squinting for a moment, you can barely make out the shape of a familiar silhouette standing on your balcony and leaning casually against the railing. His golden hair shines beneath the moonlight, and your heart leaps into your throat.

He’s here.

In an instant, you’re scrambling out of your desk chair and across the room. Fumbling with the balcony lock, you slide open the door with a gasp, the cool night breeze brushing against your cheeks with a soft caress. In front of you, the figure shoots you a crooked grin, his eyes flashing with delight.

“Good evening, sweetheart.”

Your heart melts at the sound of his ever-soothing, familiar voice, and you return his smile with one of your own. “Good evening to you too, Clay.” Scanning him up and down once, you gesture for him to come inside as you add jokingly, “You do know you don’t always have to come in through the window, right? I do have a front door.”

His grin only widens at your words, a soft chuckle tumbling from his lips as he ducks his head to step into your room. “I have a reputation to uphold as a vampire, you know?” he hums. The glint in his eye dances with mischief. “Twilight was the one who said that windows are the way to go.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “Are you really sure you want to use Twilight as your vampire role model of all things? Why not use...” You pause for a moment, then lift a finger. “Dracula?”

A grimace skitters across his face as he pulls the balcony door shut behind him. “Dracula may have been scary, but he was also an old man and, like, super creepy. At least modern vampire fiction makes us sound less gross.” His eyes gleam devilishly. “And also hot.”

You gulp, stepping back until your hand is brushing over the soft covers of your bed. “Well,” you ask softly, “do you think they got it right? The way they portray you guys?”

His lips split into a sly grin, his teeth flashing in the starlight. “I dunno, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he dips his head closer to yours. “You tell me.”

Your breath catches for all but a second before you’re gently pushing him away from you with a giggle. “Nice try,” you say, leaping onto your bed with a teasing grin, “but I’m not feeding your ego any more. You do that enough on your own.”

He feigns a wounded look, climbing into the space next to you with a hurt pout. “Aw, bummer. At least give me a kiss, then.”

For a second, you pretend to think about it, mulling the decision over in your head just to watch something needy spring to life in his eyes. Then, you smile, leaning in close to his face with your mouth hovering over his. “Just one.”

You only manage to see a sliver of his lovestruck smile before he presses his lips to yours, your eyelids falling shut. You can just barely feel his sharp fangs brush against the skin of your lip, and the thought makes you croon into his mouth. A certain fondness blossoms behind your ribcage, and your lungs almost feel as though they’re too tight to breathe. He’s cold against you, and when he lifts his hand to cup your cheek, you shiver at the feeling of his icy skin against yours. Everything he does sends a chill rushing down your spine, but when you part just a moment later, you already feel yourself missing his touch.

Brushing his nose over yours, you feel him inhale sharply against you, and the breath he lets out is positively trembling. “God,” he whispers into the side of your face, his voice rasping ever so slightly, “you smell so good.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest at his words, and you feel warmth blossom across your collarbones. “I’m flattered,” you say gently, reaching a hand up to press against his shoulder. Instantly, he melts into your touch as you subtly shuffle back across your bed away from him. “But you’re the one who told me I’m not allowed to let you drink from me.”

His lips part for a moment, and you catch a gleam of the moonlight flashing across his fangs. Swallowing, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs with longing. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” His eyes dart up to meet yours, his gaze swimming with a deep, drowning sense of sorrow. “You know that I’d never, ever want to hurt you, right?”

A smile tugs on your lips, sincere and true. “Of course I do,” you murmur, “and I promise you that you won’t, even if you did drink from me.”

You pause for a moment, then slowly reach a hand up to your shoulder. You don’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sight, and you almost swear you catch an inkling of crimson swirling within his viridian gaze as you lean your neck to the side. “It’s okay if you want to, alright?” you whisper, swallowing.

His eyes are glued to your neck, and you can almost see the storm that rages just beneath his skin. Your chest aches at the thought, knowing just how conflicted he must feel right now. When he doesn’t move, you drop your hand back down to the bed, your gaze focused intently on his.

“I trust you,” you say, pouring every ounce of honesty you can into your words. “Can you trust yourself?”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his lips parted as his emerald eyes rake you up and down. They’re wide with hunger, an expression you had seen many times before over the months, but not one you had become fully acquainted with. You fidget a little under his intense gaze, and you’re just about to open your mouth again when suddenly, his hands are reaching for yours on the bed.

You gasp as he intertwines his cool fingers between your warm ones, your heart leaping for joy. You let your eyelids flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, drinking in your sweet scent as your warm breath tickles his cold skin. You love the quiet moments like this, the enamoured silences that envelop the two of you in your own little bubble as the world seems to slow down. Sucking in a breath, he shudders at your touch, his hand squeezing yours.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly for you and you alone to hear. “You’re too good to me.”

You smile at his words, your heart fluttering in your chest, but something uneasy sinks into the pit of your stomach at the bittersweet tone of his voice.

He didn’t answer your question, a voice whispers from the back of your head. Why didn’t he answer?

A moment later, you push the feeling away, nudging it back into the dark crevices of your mind. Instead, you choose to focus on the feeling of his skin pressing against yours, soothing and soft as you relish in the moment. The moon’s crescent frown seems to deepen from her perch in the sky, but she remains ever silent, only watching with her patient, pallid gaze.

You’re probably just imagining things.

After that night, time passes by you at an achingly slow pace. Night after night passes without a single sign of Clay, and before you even know it, a week and a half has flown past you without so much as a call. You text him as often as you can, and more often than not, you do actually get a response. Seeing the notification of his name pop up on your phone screen makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you’re always eager to hear back from him, but you can’t help but miss him as the hours drag on.

An empty, hollow feeling sinks into your chest as you curl up in your bed, the blankets strewn around you haphazardly as you blink over at the closed curtains draped over your balcony window. You haven’t bothered to look outside for a few nights, now—you already know that he won’t be there, as much as you want him to be. Even now, you can imagine his grinning face and teasing pokes as clear as day. The loneliness gnaws away at you as you turn onto your side, facing away from the window.

You hope he’s safe no matter what he’s up to, right now. You know better than anyone that sometimes, he can be a little too reckless for his own good.

Letting your eyes close, you sink into your pillow, a galaxy of stars whirling around your head as you slowly feel yourself drift off into a murky dream. Flashes of bright grins and the sound of wheezing laughter trickles through your thoughts, and you sigh at the endearing memories that wrap around your heart. You can almost swear you feel a pair of hands wrap around your own.

All of a sudden, something prods at the back of your ear, restless and sharp. Wincing, you blink a sleepy eye open, your bleary mind sorting through the sounds in your head before landing on one.

Glass—that’s the sound of glass.

Someone is tapping at your window.

Your eyes shoot wide open, and in a whirlwind, you’re ripping the covers off your body and pushing open your bedroom curtains. On the balcony stands a hooded figure, his golden tresses just barely peeking out from beneath the low-hanging cloth. You swallow and grab onto the door lock, slamming it open just a moment later. You shiver at the night breeze nipping at your skin, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less about the cold, your focus entirely devoted to one thing and one thing alone.

“Clay!” you cry, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and instead, his hand reaches to the side to desperately grip onto the balcony railing, his knuckles turning white. Your eyebrows furrow with concern, and slowly, you take a step toward him. You haven’t even crossed the doorway separating the inside of your room to your balcony when he suddenly barks, “Stop!”

You freeze in place, your hand halfway reaching for his when he practically crumples against the railing, curling in on himself with a choked plea. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his chest with a ragged breath, “please. I’m—”

“Clay?” you breathe again, this time much quieter. You shuffle closer to the window glass, your toe just barely brushing against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, a snarl rips out of his throat, guttural and beastly. You flinch at the sound for a split second, the worry in your chest only making your heart shake even more. His grip on your balcony railing grows even tighter, and you don’t doubt that it’s going to leave a mark on the metal.

“Don’t come too close,” he pants, his thighs shaking beneath him. “I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You purse your lips at him, frustration and confusion digging at the sides of your stomach. “Then why did you come here?”

All is quiet, and he doesn’t respond. The only sound you can properly hear is his uneven breathing as he claws at the front of his hoodie, the fabric bunching beneath his touch. You flick your gaze over him again, and a cold realization suddenly washes over you.

“Clay,” you whisper, the tiniest hint of fear seeping into your voice, “when was the last time you had a proper drink?”

You are once again met with silence, but the way he suddenly stiffens does not go unnoticed by your watchful gaze. Something curls nervously inside your gut, and your lips curl into a frown as you dig your heel into the ground.

“Clay,” you say again, a little louder this time—a little more firmly. “How long has it been?”

There is a beat of silence. Then, he whispers so softly that it’s almost swept away by the wind, “...too long.”

A pang of sorrow shoots through you, a stone dropping into the pit of your stomach. You were right. He’s thirsty. A sigh escapes your throat as you open up your arms, beckoning him toward you. “Come here,” you murmur with all the softness you can muster. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head, and it’s then that you realize you haven’t seen his face this whole time. “Take off the hood,” you say gently. His shoulders tense at your request, and you quickly add a tender, “Please.”

His throat bobs as he gulps, and ever so slowly, his hands reach up to tug at his hood until suddenly, the moonlight is casting a glowing streak of silver across his face. Your eyes go wide.

His kind, lovely eyes, which are typically viridian green and swimming with adoration for you, are now painted a deep, scarlet red, his pupils dilated beyond belief as they lock onto yours.

In all the time you’ve known he was a vampire, you’ve never seen him like this before.

But strangely enough, you’re not afraid.

Instead, you gently reach for his hand, careful to only just lightly wrap your fingers around his. His gaze drops back to the ground again, and while you know he doesn’t have a pulse, if he did, you imagine that it would be going haywire right about now. “Oh, honey,” you whisper. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Just as you begin to lead him inside to your room does he raise his chin once more, his jaw clenched tight as he takes in your soft, enamoured expression. As he steps inside, you reach behind him to slide the door shut before tugging him back toward your bed. Settling down on the mattress with a loose breath, you let go of his hand. His arms are still shaking at his side when he sits, and it’s then that you open your mouth again.

“Clay,” you say, your voice as clear as a bell, “you can drink from me.”

His crimson eyes widen, and the look he shoots you is one of pure, unadulterated panic. “I-I can’t,” he stammers.

“Yes,” you shoot back, reaching up for the collar of your shirt, “you can.” His eyes trace down the slope of your jaw before landing on the smooth skin of your neck, exposed and waiting for him. His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands squeezing into fists beside him. “It’ll be alright.”

“H-How do you know that?” he blurts, his nails digging into his palm. “What if—what if I lose control and hurt you?” His face blanches at the sight, and he slumps over onto his lap, hanging his head in his hands. “I can’t let that happen.”

You sigh, and he clams up at the softness of the sound. “And it won’t.”

A moment passes in aching, tense silence. You resist the urge to hug him, knowing that initiating any more contact with him would only make him panic even more. “Last time I was here,” he suddenly whispers, shattering the silence with his head ducked down, “you asked me if I trust myself.”

You blink at him as he slowly raises his head, turning his gaze to look at you head-on. “I don’t, [Y/N],” he whispers. “Not one bit.”

Your eyes flash in the darkness of your room, and before you can stop yourself, your mouth opens. “But I do.”

He goes stock still before you, and suddenly, the words are flowing from your lips in a rush, unstoppable and dripping with honesty. “I know you, Clay, and I know you won’t hurt me, no matter how scared you are that you might. I believe in you, and I believe in us.” You press your hand to your chest, your fingers curling over your beating heart. “I love how much you want to make sure I’m safe, but right now, I want to make sure that you’re safe, too.”

If you were looking a little closer, you would have seen the glossy sheen in Clay’s eyes as you tip your head to the side once more, your shirt collar tugged down your shoulder. You bite on the inside of your cheek, your fingers squeezing the sheets. His crimson eyes almost look soft in the glittering starlight of the night, and you feel your chest flood with heat.

“Please,” you croon, your eyes never leaving his. “Go on.”

He eyes you for a moment longer. Then, he’s crawling across the bed toward you, his shaking hand reaching for your shoulder. Gently, he turns you toward him, his other hand cupping your cheek. Slowly, you feel his nose brush against your jaw, something cold pressing against your skin.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispers.

Then, he sinks his fangs in.

A sting shoots up your neck at the feeling, just barely there and slightly sharp, but it’s most certainly nothing you can’t handle. Heat pools around your collar bones as he drinks and drinks, and you feel your eyelids flutter shut. His lips, which are usually cool and soft when they meet yours, feel oddly warm for once, and you sigh at the sensation of your blood pumping from your skin.

You aren’t quite sure how much time passes with him cradling you against him and his mouth lapping at the side of your neck, but soon enough, you can feel a slight dizziness flit around your skull. A soft whimper escapes your lips and instantly, he breaks away from you, his eyes wide with worry as you lean against him for support. You press your forehead against his shoulder for a brief second before sitting upright once more, blinking away the vignette tinting the edges of your vision. In front of you, Clay’s lips are stained with a faint shade of red, but his eyes have returned to the brilliant shade of green you know and love. He grips onto your shoulders a tad tighter than before, his hands reassuringly rubbing against up and down against your arms.

“Oh, [Y/N],” he breathes, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of harm. “I-I’m sorry if I was too rough or anything. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but god, you taste so sweet and I—”

You don’t let him finish his sentence. Before he can even blink, you’re pressing your mouth to his, your tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. The uncanny warmth of his lips against yours makes your head spin more than it was before, and you feel yourself smile against him when you pull back. You can taste the slight metallic tang of your own blood on your mouth as you flash him a grin, his eyes wide with adoration as he drinks in the sight of you sitting before him.

“I’m okay, Clay,” you say with an earnest look. Tilting your head at him, your tongue darts out to swipe at the corners of your mouth. “Are you?”

His eyes never leave yours as he reaches forward to slip your hand into his, his fingers slotting between your own. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His pale skin almost seems to glow in the dim light filtering through your balcony window, and he strokes his thumb over the back of your knuckles. Something inside you suddenly unravels as he tugs you into his chest, holding you close to him as his arms wrap around your backside. You feel him rest his chin atop your shoulder, and you melt into his cool touch. Just as you let yourself let out a loving, hazy sigh against his chest, you feel him whisper into the shell of your ear.

“Would you maybe let me... have another sip?”

633 notes · View notes

babesonly · 3 years

Text

fic recs 2.0!

hello kings (gn) ive got significantly more fic than last time which means this is gonna be a little more organized than the last post bc it is much longer <3 categories in order are non casefic canonverse, casefic/roadtrip fic, finale fixits, endverse, non supernatural aus, and then non destiel ones. titles will be in bold for my favs! also within each category they’re in order from shortest to longest

Canonverse

I’m a tulip in a cup by godtiering (1.2k)

I worry that I never really came back from hell. I wonder why, if I got remade by heaven, I’m still the same screwed up kid that I always was.

Sometimes I worry I’m not into women at all.

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

a REALLY good fic that’s basically just a look inside dean’s head during my bloody valentine do not read this looking for a fun time but please do read it

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

“You know,” Cas mutters into Dean’s bare skin. “When I was still… an angel, I used to dream that I would take you as my vessel.”

hello consumehimnatural fans!!!!! read newt’s fic right now its incredible

dean winchester is not a nicholas sparks protagonist by microcomets (1.9k)

Dean fell in love with Cas the way you fall asleep--slowly, and then all at once. Or some other hackneyed and trite bullshit. God, this is embarrassing.

dean is in LOVE. he’s also a disaster who keeps staring at cas’ hands. sigh

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

Coda to 13.06 (Tombstone). In which Castiel reckons with the aftermath of Dean's grief.

hello fellow widow arc fans <3 click here to see cas find out abt the events of advanced thanatology !

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

Between the doomed offensive at the Firmament and the impending retreat from the ravaged northeast border, Castiel left camp long enough to answer one of Dean Winchester's prayers.

S6 DEAN IS A WAR WIFE. been really into early seasons deancas lately and this one is very good. god

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

Ezekiel 39:17 "you shall eat the flesh of the mighty and drink the blood of the princes of the earth."

MY GOD. anyone who saw the @autisticandroids purgatory cannibalism talk and was interested read this right now. also anyone who enjoyed nbc hannibal OR raw (2016). if romantic cannibalism is remotely aligned with your interests read this right now. god

Sam Winchester, Ally At Law by alittleduck (3.3k)

Sam was pretty sure he could read every single gay friendly guide to coming out or supporting queer family members ever written and literally none of them would even imply that arguing with gay people that they were actually just homophobic constituted as "ally behavior". However, Sam was equally sure that none of those book authors had found themselves accidentally watching their brother get pounded by an Angel of the Lord at 9 am on Tuesday, so Sam was pretty sure he might actually still have the higher ground. Now, if only Jack would stop trying to bond with Dean using gay slurs long enough for Sam to convince everyone of that, he might just be able to cobble together some remnant of sanity or, failing that, dignity.

Or, the one where Sam desperately wants to invent PFLAG but Dean won't stop teaching Jack gay slurs

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS.

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

Dean pulls the Impala over at a cider barn about thirty miles out; doesn't really think about it, just sees the hokey orange lettering off the roadside and lets his hands guide the Impala off the interstate with gravel spitting under the wheels.

they get a nice day out together and dean has a gay crisis and it’s written beautifully mwah

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi (3.9k)

In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything.

sometimes i think about this fic and it hits that at this point dean and cas would have been married for more than a year. cas my beloved...

an exploration of gender; angelic by sometimeswelose (4k)

Castiel's true form is made of electromagnetic radiation. He has spent the majority of his life, if you really want to add it all up and average the whole thing out, as a wavelength of celestial intent.

The thing about being made of light: it's light in the physics sense of the word. Castiel's waves are gamma, x-ray, micro, and radio. He's visible light too, of course, a visible light so intense that it is blinding to most humans.

hello trans cas community <3 he’s literally trans he was assigned genderless and then went hm actually i will be a man! love of my life

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

This isn't something that's okay, not for him, but it chases him through the years until it turns into something he can't -- doesn't want to deny.

ohhh deans tenuous relationship with his sexuality my beloved...

love. worship. consummation. consumption. by redeyedwrath (4.3k)

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

These are all snapshots centered around the idea of you know. Hunger in Supernatural. Both carnal hunger and other kinds. Fics are shown in semi-chronological order but this series is generally nebulously early seasons.

for ANYONE who is a consumehimnaturual this is required reading it is INCREDIBLE and gorgeous and very visceral and i am so very obsessed with it. thank you redeyedwrath for enabling my brainrot

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

“You know what Jimmy Novak looked like. You think he was beautiful—gorgeous, hot, all of it. It’s him. Not me. This isn’t my face.”

“But,” Dean says. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it. Just that Cas’ face is right there, brows drawn together and cheekbones gleaming in the lamplight. It’s a face that’s made his heart skip probably a couple hundred beats collectively since they met.

And it used to belong to someone else.

this one is just very nice <3 cas gets uncomfortable w dean calling him attractive since dean has never seen his trueform and they work it out

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

Alone in Purgatory and hunted by Leviathans, Castiel finds himself praying to the one person who can't hear him.

cas i love you <3 cas alone in purgatory praying to dean bc dean is the only thing he still worships i love you so much

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well.

written in s5 when cas was depowered and completely nails the later seasons bitchy husbands dynamic it’s very good and fun <3

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

very bittersweet very well written and also canon compliant so do not go into this one looking for a happy ending but i DO recommend it it’s very good

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

“When I first came to earth, it was advised that we temper the senses bound to our vessels. They were a distraction, we were told. An antiquated form of experiencing existence that would hinder our ability to complete our missions, whatever that may be. My true form can better facilitate these experiences. What you would recognize as heightened senses of sight and sound, among other things.”

Or, how Dean helps Cas experience all five human senses for the first time in one night.

early seasons deancas man. i love the sound part i love dean being so worried about doing a good job with this. god. read this please

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

Dean’s violent reaction to being unexpectedly woken has become something of a running joke among them, but Castiel can’t help but look past it to the underlying cause. It makes him ache to think that Dean feels so unsafe, so persecuted, before he’s even fully conscious.

Secretly, Castiel has been determined to work on that, to ease Dean into awareness in a less jarring way, smooth away one of the many stresses that follow him even in sleep. Now’s as good a time as any to try.

oh to sleep more soundly in the presence of someone you love...this fic is very nice i enjoyed it a lot

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

hello trans dean community here is 7k of trans dean having to deal with his internalized homophobia now that he’s sleeping with cas <3 it is SO good

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

He takes a shower and the pressure is not especially good, but it doesn’t matter. It’s warm and he stands under the spray a long time. Human skin, he knows, constantly renews itself, shedding the dead cells of the epidermis. He wonders how long it will take until he is an entirely new person, until every cell on his surface is a new one. He looks at his hands under the water. It might take less than a month.

this might be the only post 9x03 fic on here with a happy ending actually? plenty of good melancholy leading up to it though <3 canon divergent after 9x03 though which means no 9x06 fanfiction gap but it is absolutely worth reading

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

hello this one is SO funny dean finally gets comfortable enough with his bisexuality to start having sex with men and it goes so very bad every time so sorry about your shitty choices beloved </3

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

this one is very sweet i liked it a lot <3 good refreshing little fic where they just get to have a nice evening together

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

Dean settles on to his side, lying in the bed facing Castiel. “So you had sex without me and you bit all my moves. I think I deserve to hear about it, at least. What was her name?”

op im in love with you. premise is established relationship deancas and cas mentions he did have sex before dean and not only that it was a threesome. good for him <3 this fic is cas describing the story of what led up to the threesome and what happened during it while dean interrupts regularly. incredible

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

“What?” Dean says, fake-offended. “I’d be hot as a girl, you know I would.”

And this is when he really, really should have stopped talking. When he shouldn't have whipped back around and asked, “Cas, if I was a woman, you’d fuck me, right?”

Because if he hadn’t said that, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this:

Cas, meeting his eyes, forehead wrinkles all smoothed out like there’s nothing to be confused about anymore. Cas with something at the corner of his mouth that might barely be called a smile.

Cas saying, calmly and without hesitation, “Yes, Dean.”

Dean Winchester fucks around and, with the inadvertent help of some witches, Finds Out.

dean winchester your gender is diabolical. this fic is insane and its the only thing that matters actually. dean fully convinced its normal and straight to think about being a woman so you can fuck your male friend. incredible. op im proposing to you

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

Dean listens to Nina Simone, reads Anne Carson, and makes out with a dude (sort of).

yall want to read about dean realizing he’s in love with a man as a direct result of learning to better respect women right?

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

Dean Winchester and Castiel retire from hunting to raise baby Jack. Dean struggles to allow himself the things he truly wants.

Jack is two, Castiel and Dean are idiots, and Sam's gotta solve everyone's problems.

love a married couple who doesn’t know they’re married <3 everyone say thank you sam for bullying dean

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

a classic for good fucking reason. we’ve all talked about dean thinking holding hands is too gay after having just had gay sex but my personal favorite was sam accusing dean of cheating on cas because dean bought condoms. incredible

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

literally the only quarantine fic i’ve ever bothered to read in any fandom and completely worth it it’s SO good. they become fwb and dean has an existential crisis and he keeps bringing up meaninglessness and death during sex

Bodies by Speary (18k)

It was a secret they never acknowledged even with each other. It would change everything, end everything if either of them ever dropped the act. So they became very good at acting, at keeping up the lie that gave them what they wanted. Even if that lie involved constantly seeking out temporary, consenting female vessels, Cas would do it. He told himself it was worth it for Dean. He just hoped that he could stop wanting more, or maybe one day Dean might stop pretending that he wasn't really sleeping with Cas every time.

i don’t even have anything to add tbh if that summary did not immediately make you click we are very different this fic is incredible. god. fellas do you ever make yourself a woman so you can fuck the man you love without him having to talk about it or confront his sexuality

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe (20k)

So the man crouching in front of Castiel is named Dean. He wonders if that’s supposed to mean something to him.

“Cas must’ve got hit with something earlier. He just dropped like a sack of fucking potatoes a minute ago. By the time I was checking on him, he had already woken up again, but now he doesn’t fucking know who we are.”

“I’m right here you know,” Castiel says testily.

Sam’s eyes are wide even as his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks between Dean and Castiel again.

“What do you remember, Cas?”

“Firstly, that I’m not Cas. I don’t know who Cas is, but it’s not me. I don’t know who either of you are, either."

or the one where castiel is hit with a memory curse that makes him forget the winchester brothers and is stunned to find out he has a family... also why can't he stop thinking about dean?

BEST amnesia fic oh my god. cas my beloved you deserve the world. everyone read this that is not a request.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

Dean’s getting some pancakes together for breakfast when Cas saunters in after a run.

He’s trying to focus on whisking batter, unfairly distracted by Cas a few feet away, breathing heavily and shining with perspiration. Dean’s been painfully aware for a long time that Cas is pretty easy on the eyes, but he’s used to seeing Cas buttoned-up and unflappable, looking straight-laced in a stiff oxford and an unflattering trenchcoat.

Now Cas is sweating, Dean’s borrowed t-shirt clinging to his skin, flushed from exertion and Dean really can’t deal with that in his kitchen right now.

this entire series is really good i enjoyed it a lot, i’m just putting this one specifically on the list bc the rest of the series is very explicit and this is really good as a standalone for anyone who wouldn’t be into the rest of the series!!

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in."

Who the fuck was this bitchy "warrior of God" doing talking to him like that? Fuck Cas-tee-el and his dumbass trench coat and abrasive motherfucking attitude.

Dean was done with this shit.

***

Wherein a monster of the week steals the essence of Castiel's vessel, so he must use Dean, recently raised from hell, as a vessel instead.

it is at this point i realize that there are more fics than i expected there to be on this list that involves a threesome with only two people/using the presence of a female body to act like what’s happening is heterosexual. deangirlism is a disease

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

His grace is burning out, and the wasteland it leaves inside him becomes an echo chamber for all the memories, all the fear and doubt and self-loathing he's collected over the years. Things said and done hound him on endless repeat until he's convinced they’ll break through his skin and fill the silence of the bunker.

His head is killing him, and he sits hunched over an open book, not really reading, just digging his fingers into his skull and praying nothing slips through the cracks.

this one is GORGEOUS i love it so so much. dean and cas are both struggling so much to get by and they’re trying to support each other but fucking it up and they have to grow together and learn to cope with the fact that this is where their lives are and they fall in love i need everyone to read this

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

Title: Just One of Those Things Author: Impala67 Series: TOS Rating: M Summary: Four years into their five-year mission, and all the planets start to look the same.

In which Dean is not Gene Roddenberry, but he does write Star Trek fanfiction.

mx winchester writing star trek fanfiction to process his own trauma <3 this is a wip but it’s SO good and i also have not consumed a single piece of star trek media so it IS definitely readable to anyone who isn’t a star trek fan. please read this

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

“Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”

this is on here just for the 1.5 people who were putting off this one like i did for no reason. it’s extremely good and it is just gentle. i enjoyed it a lot

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

yall ever wonder what it would’ve been like if the sam and dean arrest storyline in s12 was interesting? yeah <3

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean.

(A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

cas learning about humanity through poetry before dean and thats what led to him developing enough emotion to be lobotomized....cas i love you so much

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there.

A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

another cool amnesia fic!! for unknown reasons everyone forgot cas three years ago but cas didn’t forget anything. cas deserves so much love and support. god

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

cas getting to meet and fall in love with pre hell dean just as much as he loves the dean he already knows oh my GOD. i love this fic so much. turn of the earth my beloved

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

Two Deans, one Cas - it's not as sexy as it sounds

An ethics lesson from Hell

The one where Dean from the past meets Dean in the present. They're not sure they like each other very much.

deans intense self hatred vs cas’ unwavering love for every version of dean oh my GOD also this is a wip fair warning but it’s so worth waiting for updates i’m having such a great time with this one i cannot wait to see how it gets ended

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

There was season six. Then there was season seven. Against all expectations, there was season eight. There were the alphas and purgatory, and then the Leviathans, and then the angels fell. Enter season nine. Loose threads Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley have to be tied up. Sam, Dean, and Cas have to try to tie them while at the same time dealing with their evolving relationships and newfound graceless states.

Amidst all the chaos, someone has started publishing the Supernatural novels again. Convinced there’s something amiss in the pages, Charlie starts her own quest to suss out the truth behind the Winchester Gospels.

With the help of various faces, old and new, they must now not only deal with the typical runs of demons and recently fallen angels, but also reconcile the battles raging inside themselves, as the fate of the world, once again, quite literally lays in the palm of their hands.

saltyfeathers said i WILL make the plot holes in this show mean something because the showrunners are sure as shit never gonna adress them ! and i thank them for it bc this was a really cool read

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

Dean's breathing is audible in the scant space between them, irregular. The motel room is dark, pale blue shadows falling in through the gaps in the blinds. Throwing a pattern of uneven white stripes over the bunched up covers. Over Dean's fingers twisted in the sheets. One half of him in shadow, softened by the dark. The heat of his skin. The tremble of him under Castiel's touch.

He caresses a hand over Dean's chest, slowly. Dean's mouth falls open, his body arching into Castiel's touch. Castiel stops over Dean's heart. Through the fever of his desire, he rejoices about the wonder of experiencing another's heartbeat through one's own senses.

Dean gasps, but then he turns his face away and towards the dark. Eyes closed tight and brows furrowed like something is hurting him.

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

the case is background on this one but it Does take place over the course of a case so im putting it here. god touchstarved dean trying so hard to work through his shit for cas head in my hands i love this fic so much

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

chapter 2 of this one.....god. dean and cas you are both so unwell <3 i love everything abt this fic everyone read it now

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon (15k)

Dean’s always known things were headed this way. He just figured getting dragged under would be cleaner and easier than jumping in feet-first.

fics that make you go Oh they love each other...also there’s lesbians in it literally what else could you want.

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored.

OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

this fic is just like. it’s kind! this fic is kind it’s just a pleasant experience and i enjoyed it thoroughly. they’re in love and it’s good

Suck It, Judy Garland by GlitterDwarf, midrashic (20k)

It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

actually im gonna defend dean here imagine youre dean and cas gives what definitely sounded like a deathbed love confession while making eye contact with you and then immediately afterwards fake dates your brother. who among us would not have been a bitch about this

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

It’s nearing three a.m. and they’ve been on the road a long time. Sam’s been asleep in the back seat since eleven. Giving up and handing the wheel over to Cas and letting the guy who doesn’t sleep drive had seemed like a good idea.

the premise of this fic is so funny. cas voice dean you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid. everyone read this

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo (22k)

This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore.

alt version of getting rid of the mark of cain, the darkness never happens. this one is VERY heavy but it’s so good and it has a hopeful ending. ive read this one twice and loved it both times

Someone Who’s Feeling For Me by ellispark (45k)

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

hello op please contact me. please contact me and let me see the inside of your brain. this fic was an unparalleled experience and everyone should also go through it. i love it so very much

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.

Can newly-human Cas, and Dean, with the help of shipper!Sam, work out the mystery behind the abandoned carnival and its ghost, and along the way, figure out the riddle that is them?

one of my absolute fav case fics it forces dean to confront some aspects of johns parenting and work through some shit and also him and cas fall in love and it’s really well done. love this one a lot <3

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

this one is just extremely funny. local midwestern heterosexual man is forced to play relationship counselor to the dumbest gay people in existence because one of them wore his face

Dean Winchester Really Needs To Make Some Gay Friends by AreYouReady (2.2k)

“Like, I’m trying to think if I’ve had, I don’t know, crushes. If I ever had a gay thing before you came along and just didn’t notice,” Dean said.

Cas suddenly looked down, and away from Dean. If Dean didn’t know better, he would swear Cas looked guilty.

“What is it, Cas?”

“You have had several… gay things before.” Cas still wouldn’t look at him.

“What? When? How come you know this better than I do?”

There was no way the answer to this question wasn’t funny as hell.

dean learning about gay ppl via the memories of dean smith...incredible.

tiny difference (between ending and starting to begin) by sunforgrace (2.4k)

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

It doesn’t happen often. Not when Dean’s around to tell, anyway. But often enough that he starts to notice.

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

Cas just doesn’t watch the sky. He watches the birds.

Chuck is gone, Cas is human, and the world is safe. In the quiet aftermath Dean and Castiel find each other again.

i really don’t have much to say abt this one it is just very good and they love each other so much

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

Dean's phone doesn't ring on the drive back to the Bunker, but that's okay. Because—well, maybe Cas lost his cell, what with getting shuffled back and forth between a cosmic void dimension and all. And anyway, Dean doesn't want this conversation to happen over the phone, he wants to—he wants to talk to Cas face-to-face. They should talk face-to-face.

Dean will tell him—

Dean doesn't know what he'll tell Cas. Dean is, in fact, terrified by how utterly and completely he does not know what he'll say to Cas.

cas being forced to face the consequences of sending the risky text that was despair <3

dean’s coworkers vs the heteronormative agenda by cowboydeanwinchester (4.1k)

Dean started working at a local auto repair shop in Lebanon, Kansas about a year ago. His coworkers don't know much about him. Except that he has a wife. Or maybe he doesn't. But he has a kid. Who is either a toddler or a high schooler. Who is either named Jack or Sammy. He also might have a best friend named Cas, but that also might be his wife.

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

obsessed w people not knowing a single fucking thing about dean because he talks so much and never explains anything. this fic is SO funny

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

the empty playing mind games on an awake cas bc it can’t put him to sleep is a thing i like a lot and this is very very good

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

dean and cas STILL managing to not communicate with each other properly after the confession is so funny to me and this fic does it really well. also i like that a human being in the empty, where humans do NOT belong, had some like. consequences

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

“There you are,” the Empty says, in Dean’s voice. It’s cold, like Dean’s eyes are cold, his expression set in contempt. It’s the expression Cas feared, he realizes, all the times he thought about saying it. Revulsion. It makes him feel sick in the way that goes beyond physical, here where there is nothing physical left.

The moment before it happened had been so sweet it covered up all the hurt. For years, Cas had been holding back those words, biting down on his tongue to keep from saying them. And now he had said it, and he knew that it was good, knew that it was worth it. But on the other side there is only this.

In the Empty, Cas dreams of his regrets, until someone comes looking for him.

one of thee best dean rescues cas from the empty fics out there i love the way his memories are written i love how many of them were ones that this fic came up with to give me new things to have brainworms over instead of just making me more fixated on He Watched Him Rake Leaves than i already am

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

It's been four years since Dean saved Cas from the Empty and confessed his feelings in return, and in their Vermont lakehouse, the retired couple is now learning how to heal. One morning, Dean gives Cas a haircut.

(A character study of Castiel.)

perfect fic perfect fic no notes no complaints they love each other so much and now dean is giving cas a haircut and they’re spending the day together. god.

and every time we kiss, i swear i can fly by knameless (14k)

Every time, Dean tells himself it’s the last.

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

a just boy best friends kiss for every season <3 mwah

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

'a prayer for which no words exist' // richard siken

"Dear Cas who art in my bathtub, give me the strength to be honest about how I feel. For your sake and for mine. Forgive me all the times I wasn’t in the past, all the words I should have said but didn’t. And please stay. Please stay with me when all is said and done. Amen. "

Dean rescues a newly human Cas from the Empty. That's the easy step.

mediawhore i am in LOVE with you oh my god this fic. this fic. dean taking care of cas after rescuing him dean wrapping cas in a blanket oh my GOD

swimming with the fish pond fish by februyuri (17k)

Some time between Dean bleeding out on a makeshift hook in a barn in Ohio and Sam making marshmallows on his funeral pyre, Dean was brought back to life. By Castiel. Again. Dean agreed to it if only to give Jack time to work out the glitches up top. So, now Dean’s back in the land of the living and things are ... actually good, for once.

Or, as good as they can be when demons are attacking Earth, Dean’s failing to get over why he died in the first place, and Cas is suddenly, inexplicably taking every opportunity to casually tell Dean that he loves him.

this is a wip! but it is so good and so worth the read i love it a lot and am very excited for the last chapter. it IS pretty heavy though dean has a LOT to work through

looking like a true survivor (feeling like a little kid) by courfeyrac (20k)

"Jack’s a clever kid—has been ever since he was born, maybe even before that—but Dean’s pretty sure he hasn’t figured out where they’re going yet. And Dean’s… Dean’s excited about it. He remembers planning surprises for Sammy when they were little—saving up quarters and sneaking off to the arcade the year he turned seven, or slipping a book Dean had seen Sammy admiring into his jacket before sprinting out of the store the year he turned twelve. There was only so much Dean could give him back then, hindered by lack of finances and transportation and a father who paid attention. Now, though, Dean’s got a wallet full of cash, a tank full of gas, and the freedom to give his kid the kind of birthday he deserves."

Or, it's Jack's fourth birthday, and the kid wants to go to Build-A-Bear.

EVERYONE READ THIS RIGHT NOW. that is not a request this fic undid me. oh my god. oh my god. they’re a family and they’re going to build a bear and they love each other. oh my god. also no it isn’t a baby jack fic he is 4 and he is also alcal

what’s missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles (27k)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

~~~

"But have you ever just met someone and maybe it wasn't from the first moment, maybe it was after all these other moments that meant more than you ever expected them to, and it seems like your soul just—just—" Kaia makes a helpless gesture with her hands, pushing out, and she breathes out loudly. "Like it can finally exhale. And that person isn't guaranteed to make you happy, but they're—they're important. You just know it, you can't even escape it, you can't let them go. Ever met someone like that, Dean?"

"I—" Dean halts, his mouth hanging open. He's looking at Kaia, who's looking at him, and his heart is fluttering in his throat like a caged bird aching to soar again. His mind threatens to spiral out of control, but he focuses, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Um. I—yeah, I have."

deancas AND dreamhunter we love to see it also dean DOES smoke weed with kaia and apologizes for pulling a gun on her what more could you want in a fic

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

Dean did a lot of thinking about when and how he would get Cas back. Months of it, actually, stretching into a year, because while Sam and Eileen were settling into their new lives, Dean was stuck. He was stuck in a faraway corner of the bunker, dark and empty and hollow, ringing with the sound of a vibrating phone.

So when he falls to his knees in that same room, exhausted, hurting, breathless, and he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Cas, he realizes that he doesn't have a single clue about what to do now. Getting Cas out had been easy--actually, it'd been the opposite of that--but the planning of it, the methodical desperation of one attempt after the other had been a familiar rhythm. It'd been soothing almost, solid, something to focus on that wasn't Cas's eyes, watery and jubilant in a way Dean hadn't ever seen that up close on anyone, let alone Cas.

And now Cas is pulling him to his feet, and Dean's stumbling, and he instinctually grabs Cas's arm, and his hand lights up with a fire that he isn't prepared for.

"Hello, Dean."

oh post despair lack of communication....oh dean refusing to work through his feelings...this fic is incredible i love it everyone who enjoys dean doing everything in his power to avoid talking about feelings up to and including having sex with the guy who’s in love with him multiple times should read this

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (29k)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment.

SOBSICLES TATTOO FIC MY BELOVED. dean grieving and getting tattoos and it turns into tattoo therapy. im SO in love with mitzi it’s insane. requires some suspension of disbelief for how long a tattoo takes but it’s an incredible fic and an unparalleled experience. sobsicles does not miss

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?

SUPER cool concept i liked this a lot i’m pretty sure everyone’s read it already but just in case someone hasn’t you absolutely should

oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith by sobsicles (62k)

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't.

~~~

"You don't understand," Dean whispers, exhaling shakily. "I know you don't, because even I don't. The instant you were gone, I wanted you back. Cas, I wanted you back. I wanted—I wanted—"

Cas stares at him, searching his face. After a moment, his own face falls slack, eyes widening just so. "Oh," he breathes out.

Dean wants to be furious that Cas has figured it out before he has—whatever it is—but he's not even that surprised. Cas knows him too well, always has, even more than Dean knows himself. He's been kicking Dean in the goddamn teeth with how deeply he understands him, even about the things Dean doesn't, ever since they first met. You don't think you deserve to be saved, that's what Cas had said. All bundled up in impossibilities and power, this being that looked at Dean Winchester and knew every single inch of him, as if he had a right to each part.

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

the ONLY heaven fic. i do not read heaven fics bc i refuse to budge in my finale denialism i refuse to read fic where it is accepted that dean dies. i was hesitant to read this but god im glad i did it was so good. literally the best possible outcome of dean dying

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

“If I’d actually been born human, would I have gotten sick like everyone else? Would I be running around gnawing on the neighbors?” Castiel tilts his head up and even from here Dean can see the black ring of his pupils, wide and dark as dead stars. He’s high as fuck and he’s been loading the guns for forty-five minutes. He stares into the space where Dean is. He smiles and shows his teeth. “Maybe you’d have already put a bullet in my head.”

"This is why you don’t lead storytime anymore," Dean says. "This kind of shit."

endverse last night on earth fics are something that can be so personal actually. god

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

The very last song is the Song of Solomon, and Castiel sings it only for Dean. Set in "The End."

this is like. pre endverse and the tone is so like. wistful? is the best word ive got? it’s gorgeous i love it but fair warning there is graphic description of like. viscera and infected wounds

to think that we could stay the same by cipherwriter (6.5k)

cas has all he needs; himself, his creation, and enough power to continue this cycle for a long time. he's fine. dean wants to take care of him anyway.

oh my GOD this one is good it’s based off the thing of how originally endverse cas was supposed to be just sitting in a room killing and resurrecting the same cockroach over and over. very bittersweet at some points i love it a lot, do not read it if youre looking for something happy though lmao

the first church at the end of the world by withbloodstainedclothingon (11k)

The angels don’t eat the brain. Only Croats do that.

this one is fucked but it’s incredible it contains very heavy and violent subject matter and cas is an Actual cult leader he doesn’t just have orgies it is SO well done and i had a great time reading it i recommend it very highly if the warnings sound like something you can stomach

Down to Agincourt by seperis (1.1 million. i know. yes it’s a wip)

There is no such thing as a guarantee when it comes to war.

The outcome's known. Why try? Return your rusty sword to battered sheath, bow your head and bend your stubborn knee. Why take the field when you cannot win the war? But Harry -- he went down to Agincourt.

PLEASE. i know the length is intimidating i KNOW it’s a very long fic but please. please read down to agincourt i am begging you. head in my HANDS this series is incredible.

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

look man it’s bendingsignpost okay. it’s bendingsignpost it’s good and it’s sweet and you should read it

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

do you ever pretend to be a jehovahs witness for months to hang out with the guy you like because you fucked up asking him out? yeah.

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

Dean is three years sober when Cas comes back into town.

~~~

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Dean, once again, has to swallow the urge to offer to swallow something else. It's very hard to resist the gut-wrenching pull of want that hooks in his chest whenever he looks at Cas. And to think, he used to have him, used to be able to act on that want.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

Well, there's no point in kicking himself three years later for shit he can't change. He'll just sit right here and pretend that his fingers aren't twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. He can't do that anymore, and it's his own damn fault.

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

Dean huffs a weak laugh. "Yeah. Eventful."

this fic hit me SO hard emotionally oh my god. don’t have much to say bc most of my thoughts on this fic are very personal but my god read this please

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

this one is SO fun. dating the food critic who called your garlic bread closeted and lying about your career because you’re embarrassed and you want to redeem your food in his eyes but then you fall in love with him

Non Destiel Centric

gender? you mean that thing i have that pisses people off? by bigender dean winchester (homosexualitie) (946 words)

sam and dean paint each other's nails and dean abuses the technicalities of her gender. what more could you want?

HELLO HE/SHE DEAN COMMUNITY oh my god the pure rush of euphoria reading this. oh my god. oh my god.

the quiet road to a distant city by rottingbrains (1.2k)

Sam stares out the windshield again. They’re approaching a city, and she can see the lights in the distance. She’s past the danger zone, and she feels like the world around her reflects that in some way she can’t put into words- as if God is telling her that it’s okay. She did the right thing, and soon she will be past the lonely unknown and into the warm, forgiving light of acceptance. Or something. Come to think of it, the lights only look warm from far away, and she knows that the actual city will seem far less welcoming. Still. Best not to imagine the worst when it’s already going well.

required reading for transfem lesbian sam fans. fics that live in your ribcage to make your heart feel good

Four People Ruby Seduced & One She Actually Fell For (Or: Ruby's Epic Love Affair with Humanity in General and Sam in Specific) by tuesday (3.7k)

In which Ruby has a lot of sex, is not any kind of therapist that would be legal, and helps a few people out for her own reasons. (S4/S5 AU)

for everyone out there who enjoys ruby being a girlboss <3

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

Meg goes on, resolute despite the way Dean flinches, "He likes me. He likes me a lot, and I like him back, and that's probably good enough for both of us. But fuck me for saying so, Dean-o, he loves you, probably more than anything else on his daddy's green Earth, and you need to man up and give back what Clarence over there has been devoting to you for years."

this is meg/dean/cas which is not smth i really seek out but this was extremely good. set in s7 so it’s meg and dean and honey cas and it’s a lot of dean figuring his shit out and trying to forgive cas and i love meg a lot in this

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #mine

472 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 3 years

Note

Happy Holidays! Can you write a Jimin hybrid Au? I love you and your fics!

Every day, we stray closer to being a furry.

↳ Floof’s Tail

3k || 80% Fluff, 20% Angst || Park Jimin || Hybrid!AU

You’re beaming with excitement.

The first time you saw her through the glass window, you thought she was just a visitor. You were so happy when she wanted to play with you and only you. And you were even more ecstatic when she came a second time days later. You spent time together for hours on end, just like many of the other humans that came around to keep you and the other hybrids company.

But unlike them, she adopted you.

You still can’t believe you now have a home, something to call yours, and an owner that you love so much.

Soyeon stops in the hall and her hand lifts to pet you, gesture affectionate and eyes loving. You lean into her touch, and she smiles before withdrawing away much to your disappointment.

“This is it, Y/N.”

Her arms motion theatrically to the door, and then she pulls out her keys with a grin. “This is my home and it’s going to be your home from now on too.”

Your tail is practically wagging and you look at the gray door, loving what’s inside already without needing to see it. You don’t remember much of the street name or the apartment building, but you know that it’s the seventh floor, that it seems super nice from the outside, and they’ll probably be big windows looking out at the city. Not to mention from the drive here, there’s also a park close by!

You can’t wait.

The door opens.

Soyeon brings in your small bag along with the other stuff she bought for you at the store, and then she turns around to beckon you to come in, smiling softly. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Y/N.”

This is a dream. It’s all you’ve ever wanted and wished for. An owner. A home. A place to call your own. But you should’ve known, nothing is what it seems.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with a thick scent. It slams into you, choking your lungs and overwhelming your senses. Warm and earthy, like vanilla and the trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. You don’t know why you didn’t notice before. It always lingered on Soyeon, a scent underneath her laundry fabric softener and sweet perfume. Maybe you had unconsciously ignored it because you wanted so desperately to be hers.

But of course, someone as perfect as Soyeon would have another dog.

Before you can dart out the door, she calls for him. “Jimin!”

He comes barreling out of the hall with a big smile and his tail wagging.

Only, he stops short a meter away with his eyes pin-pointed on you. His grin instantly falls, ears drooping. His brows furrow as if to ask ‘what the hell is this’.

Soyeon smiles. “Y/N, this is Jimin.”

Jimin is a dog hybrid just like you. You can tell by the triangle ears on the top of his head that’s a slightly darker shade than the blonde hair that falls over his forehead. His face is round, cheeks full and his lips are pouty. But his brown eyes are mean. They’re half-lidded and glaring at you.

“Jimin, this is our new puppy, Y/N.”

“Leave!” he suddenly barks at you, growling at the back of his throat. You yelp, ears pressed flat on your head and you jump to cower behind Soyeon who’s bigger and taller than you are.

“Jimin,” Soyeon scolds in a low tone.

But he isn’t dissuaded and steps closer to you with one large stride.

Your back hits the door, fear making your eyes grow round. He’s much larger than you are and his scent is thicker too. Jimin’s nose twitches, but before he can get to you, Soyeon blocks his way.

More sternly than before she commands, “Jimin, stop.”

Soyeon takes your hand, turns around and shushes you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry,” she coos and then shifts to the other hybrid. “Stay right there, Jimin.”

He glares as Soyeon leads you away, down the hall into a room. But he doesn’t move.

“This is my room and the place that’ll be yours too.” She shuts the door and realizes your distressed expression. “Everything will be okay,” Soyeon tries to reassure and comes to brush a hand through your hair. Then she looks over to the small bag she had dragged with her and lights up. “Oh, here’s your kitty cat.”

It’s a tattered stuffed toy you’ve had since you were born in the shelter, but the moment she passes it to you, you hug it and find comfort. Your heart begins to slow back to its normal pace and Soyeon smiles, seeing that you’ve eased.

“Get yourself settled, okay? I’ll be a second. I just have to talk to Jimin.”

“Okay.”

Her room is large with plenty of space. There’s a massive bed bigger than you’ve ever seen and a TV opposite of it. By the other wall, there’s a bookshelf, vanity, and desk with a computer. There’s a walk-in closet, dresser and another door to a bathroom too. It’s everything anyone could ever need in one room.

You marvel at your surroundings before staring out the enormous glass window.

But your ears perk. Outside the room, there’s muffled voices.

You shuffle your feet over the door and you pick up what’s being said.

“—your friend and heat partner.”

“I don’t need a friend or a heat partner!”

“Jimin. This….this isn’t the way to act.”

There’s a long sigh and you hear steps coming down the hall. You step back and Soyeon opens the door before shutting it. She looks at you with your eyes on the ground, tail drooping and your ears pressed to your head again.

“It’s okay,” she suddenly says in a higher-pitched voice. You head lifts to her and she smiles, petting you softly behind the ear. “Jimin’s really sweet and kind, I promise. You just have to get used to each other.”

You nod.

Soyeon asks, “Do you want snacks?”

Your eyes widen and your head bobs more enthusiastically.

...

Soyeon does a good job of distracting you. She pets you, plays with you, shows you her room and the connected bathroom. The TV has you especially captured for a while, but you’re broken out of your trance when you hear knocking on the door. Followed by scratching.

And then there’s Jimin’s whine.

Soyeon looks at you and says. “I’ll be right back.”

She slips away and you’re left by yourself again.

Deep down, you know you shouldn’t get too comfortable. This isn’t your home.

…

“Yes. I tried to introduce them, but it isn’t going as well as I thought it would.”

Soyeon’s voice is quiet, barely above a murmur. Yet it’s enough to stir you from your sleep and your eyes flutter a few times before you see her outline standing in the corner. She’s facing the wall with her phone pressed to her ear. You don’t know what time it is but it’s still dark outside.

“My other dog, he’s a guard dog, but he’s more possessive than I thought—….okay…..okay. Oh, alright. Yeah.”

She stops talking and you shut your eyes again, pretending you didn’t hear.

When Soyeon turns around, she doesn’t see the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

The sheets, the pillow, the blanket, it all smells like Jimin. Even if you’re stowed away in this room for the rest of your life and kept separate, the walls have already been plunged with his scent.

...

You don’t realize you’ve drifted back to sleep until you wake up with the sunshine on your face.

And your heart feels full when you see Soyeon right there with you. You’ve never been taken care of so closely by someone before, never been solely doted on, never had someone call you in such a soft voice and look at you that lovingly. And she chose you. But you don’t let yourself become too happy. Not when there was someone else on the other end of the apartment.

Still, you very much like it when Soyeon smiles and sweetly chimes, “Rise and shine.”

You rub your eyes, voice still sleepy, “Morning.”

As you sit up from your spot on the bed, your nose twitches. Your pupils instantly dart to a wool sweater draped at the back of the desk chair. It smells strong. Stronger than the rest of the room.

Soyeon follows your line of sight. “Oh. I thought you looked cold in that dress. I ordered you new clothes, but they’ll arrive later tonight. Do you want to wear that for the time being?”

“M-Maybe later.”

She nods. “Are you hungry?”

You nod enthusiastically and the corner of her lips quirk.

As she leaves to get you food, you stare at the sweater. It looks softer than the blankets and much warmer too. Before you can think twice, you approach slowly, feet cold on the floorboards.

You hesitantly sink your hand into the plush fabric of the sweater.

It doesn’t bite you. No one yells.

You pick it up and bring it to your nose, inhaling deeply. It actually smells….good. Comforting.

Soyeon grins when she returns with a tray of food, noticing the sweater slipped on top of your dress.

Halfway through your meal, she looks at your stuffed cat and boops its black nose. “Hey, Y/N. Would you mind if Jimin took a look at this? I think he’d really like it.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“I have other toys for you, like the sheep.” She plops down the white stuffie next to you that looks like a huge cotton ball. You picked it out yourself, but still… “I’ll only borrow this one for a few hours.”

It takes a second, then you’re nodding. “Okay then.”

Soyeon’s hand lifts to gently ruffle your hair. “Thank you.”

…

After breakfast, you watch TV as Soyeon cleans up and probably attends to Jimin on the other side of the wall. But no later is she returning to play with you. The two of you end up reading a story as you cuddle up to her. She shows you how to play a game on her laptop too. But then all of it is interrupted when the phone rings.

Your ears perk and you flinch from the loud sound.

Soyeon picks it up and stands in the corner of the room. “Hello?” There’s silence and then she’s sighing. “What do you mean, Taehyung? I put the file on your desk before I left.” A long pause has you worried. “It should be somewhere in our email correspondence. Figure it out.”

“No. I can’t come in! I’m on personal leave for the next two weeks, remember?” Her voice moves up a pitch and you wince. Soyeon’s clearly upset and you hate it. “Ugh. I hate you. I swear to god, Kim.”

She hangs up.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“I have to go into work, but I’ll be back in an hour.” She’s frantically rushing around, entering her closet and emerging with a blouse, pants and a coat. Still, she finds the time to come over to you and she presses a kiss on top of your forehead. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“It’s okay. I can wait.” You muster a smile, trying to make her feel better. After all, she’s done her best to comfort you. Now you want to do the same to her.

“It’ll just take a jiffy. Be back before you know it.” Soyeon steps towards the door. “Don’t leave the room, okay, Y/N?”

You nod.

Soyeon leaves a few moments later. You hear footsteps in the hall, muffled voices and then the larger door shutting. Instantly, you become drowned in silence without the television or the laptop or Soyeon’s comforting voice and soothing hands petting you. You’re abandoned.

On the other side of the wall is someone who hates you and wishes you were gone.

The truth that’s been blaring in your head becomes noisier than ever: this isn’t your home.

Maybe what she said was just an excuse. Maybe the phone call was an act and maybe Soyeon hates you too. Maybe you’re more problematic than she expected, and she’ll return you to the shelter tomorrow or even today. You wouldn’t blame her if she did. Soyeon probably wanted someone to get along with Jimin and you’re too much of a handful for her.

You don’t realize you’re crying until it’s gotten so loud that it’s deafening to your own ears. But you can’t help the wails choking out of your sobbing chest or the tears streaming down your face. You lay curled up in the bed, ears pressed to your head as you clutch your toy to your chest.

Through your clouded vision, you don’t notice the bedroom door opening. Not until you hear—

“You know she’s not leaving forever, right?”

Instantly, you jolt and scramble back on the bed. Until your back hits the headboard, pillows bent underneath you.

Jimin looks at you, eyeing the way you’re wearing his sweater, and he swallows hard. “She’s supposed to leave five to six hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But she always comes back.”

You whimper and he frowns.

“Stop making those noises.”

“I can’t help it,” you hiccup and rub your eyes. “W-Will she make me go back?”

“What?”

“The shelter. Will she leave me if we don’t get along?”

Jimin shifts his weight from one foot to another, expression almost uncomfortable. But he says, “Soyeon’s not that kind of owner.”

You hiccup and snivel, unable to make the lump in your throat go away. “I...I just want a home.”

You almost start to cry again, but then Jimin extends his arm. You see him holding your kitty cat. “I think this is yours,” he says and you nod, teary-eyed. He points to your body. “That’s my sweater. You’re not supposed to touch it.”

You look down, not sure if you should take it off. But you’re too scared to move.

At once, the concern vanishes. Jimin takes a step towards you and your spine and ears straighten on reflex. Then he takes another. You whimper and his brows furrow again. “Stop it. I won’t bite you.”

He places the kitty cat on the edge of the bed and in a moment where your courage has swelled, you lurch forward to grab it. Immediately, you withdraw and hold it to your chest.

You frown when you realize how much it smells like him.

You’re too busy paying attention to your toy to see the bed dip. To see Jimin crawling closer to you. Not until he’s facing you, practically nose to nose. Your back hits the headboard once more and your breath hitches. But instead of being barked at or bitten, Jimin leans in. You feel a tickle as his nose sniffs at your neck.

You release your breath, unable to hold it any longer and when you inhale, you smell him.

Jimin’s scent is warm and earthy, like vanilla and trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. When you’re not scared, it actually smells really nice. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

Jimin sniffs at your neck incessantly with his nose and then at your hair. You whine, slumping downwards, and he practically hovers over you, caging your frame in with his arms, smelling down your body.

The tip of his nose travels from the valley of your breasts down your tummy. He pauses at the apex of your thighs, right where your underwear is and you shut your legs together.

You’re vulnerable beneath him and you’re not sure clutching the two toys to your chest will do much good in protecting you if he decides to attack. But when Jimin’s done, he looks at you and simply says, “You smell like flowers.”

“Is that bad?”

He pauses. “No. But I like it when things smell like me.”

You gasp when he suddenly leans in, brushing his cheek against yours, nuzzling into you. It tickles and you can’t help but giggle. Jimin’s ears perk at the bubbly sound and his tail starts to wag. The toys roll off your chest, and they’re left beside you when you let go. You wiggle and shift away from him, yet he pounces after you with a smile on his face.

You laugh, managing to dodge his arms and slip off the bed.

But Jimin’s much too fast and swift for your liking. He corners you by the closet with an enormous grin on his face, half-moon eyes lit up in mischief. Before you can dart to the left, he snatches your waist and follows after you as you collapse on the soft carpet.

Jimin brushes his cheek against yours, the weight of his body pressed to yours with a knee placed between your parted thighs. You’re never going to completely smell like him, not when you have your own scent, so you’re not sure why he’s trying so hard. But you don’t mind.

You take the chance to smell him too, nose twitching at his neck. A hum leaves the back of your throat as you allow yourself to become immersed in the comforting scent.

...

When Soyeon comes home an hour later, she’s surprised that Jimin isn’t already waiting at the door or doesn’t come barreling out to greet her. It’s much too quiet. She doesn’t have a good feeling.

Blood drains from her face when she walks down the hall and she sees the bedroom door wide open. The woman rushes inside, nearly tripping her feet, mouth falling open.

Yet the words die in her throat and a smile lifts onto her features when she sees Jimin cuddling you. The pair of you are fast asleep.

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin hybrid AU #bts hybrid AU #bts scenario #bts fluff #jimin reader insert #cherry-lala #Jimlings #aka. Jimin is a guard dog and our OC is a lap dog :(

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dangercocktail · 3 years

Text

Ranger Danger

The vibrational dance of Noah’s cell phone dragged him away from the horror movie splaying blood across his television. As a young starlet screamed and ran with poor coordination through the woods, Noah scanned the stream of incoming texts.

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand over his dark hair. The incoming texts were from work. As his supervisor implored Noah’s help, he discerned they needed him to come in even though he was off duty. Some sort of mild emergency that he couldn’t quite put together. Glancing at his phone’s clock, he read that it was a little after midnight. He quickly replied ‘be there soon’, flipped off the movie, and headed into his bedroom.

Noah slipped off his gym shorts and quickly dressed in the forest ranger uniform all his coworkers wore. He gave himself a routine glance in the mirror to finish buttoning his shirt. Noah filled out his uniform with a lean beefiness acquired from miles of hiking and lifting fallen trees, his sizable biceps straining the short sleeve cuffs of his shirt. With his striking brown complexion, easy smile, and muscles, Noah was a handsome representation of the Forestry Department, frequently called in to give tours to visiting government officials or bored tour groups of sexually frustrated housewives. He always maintained a calm demeanor in the most straining of circumstances, deftly handling questions with charm. He assumed the ‘emergency’ he was needed for now was something that required his level headed thinking. Weaving his belt into the buckle of his trim waist and grabbing his hat, he headed out to his Jeep.

As Noah drove into the darker recesses of the woods where his ranger station was located, he lowered the windows on his Jeep to take in the bracing smell of pine trees and cool night air. He inhaled deeply. He loved these woods. Having worked as a ranger now for almost five years, he felt at home in this forest, having hiked its expansive trails many times over.

Pulling up to Ranger Station #04, Noah saw his District Ranger standing in the soft yellow light of the station doorway waiting for him. Taking the only remaining parking spot next to the station, Noah observed that Ben and Daniel were on duty tonight, their cars parked next to the DR’s own Ranger Jeep.

“Hey Jim,” Noah said, lifting a hand in acknowledgment as he approached the station. “How’s it going? You were slightly ambiguous in your texts...what’s going on?”

“Hey Noah, thanks for coming on such short notice,” Jim said, his smile tired but friendly. Jim was middle aged and handsome, having served in the military for several years before leaving service for a position in the Forestry Department. His body was slightly thicker than Noah’s in the middle due to Jim’s fondness for doughnuts but the small rounded softness there was offset by thick arms that easily heaved many forest obstacles.

“Ben and Daniel missed their last two audio checks so I drove over to check the station,” Jim explained, walking with Noah into the small station. He gestured to the radio log. “Last I heard from them was at nine thirty, then radio silence.”

Noah raised an eyebrow but only slightly. This wasn’t a big emergency, the guys were probably taking their time on their latest rounds. Ben and Daniel were known for getting high on these late night shifts, then strolling deep into the woods observing the enhanced beauty of the stars.

“Where’s their observation log?” Noah said, shuffling a few of the scattered papers on the desk to the side.

“Here,” Jim said, handing a clipboard to Noah. Noah flipped through a few of the sheets before reading the top page. Ben and Daniel had logged every hourly observation walk up until 10 pm. The last two spots for the day, the eleven and midnight observation, were conspicuously blank. Still, Noah wasn’t alarmed.

“They’re probably sitting under a tree marveling at the Big Dipper,” Noah said with a smile at Jim, looking up from the clipboard. He handed it back to Jim who set it on the desk.

“You’re not wrong but let’s follow protocol and run our own observation. Shouldn’t be too hard to find these two” Jim said, adding a new sheet to the clipboard. “I apologize for making you come out here but safety first right? Two man teams always”.

Jim scribbled the time, his rank, and initials in the one o’clock slot then handed it over to Noah for his own initials. Both of them grabbed a flashlight and radio, locked the station door, and headed out into the woods, following the well worn starter path every ranger had trod day in and out.

The night air settled around the two rangers in a cool mist as fallen pine needles crunched underneath their boots. They made small chatter occasionally but mostly remained quiet, something Noah appreciated about Jim. They both enjoyed the quiet of the forest, preferring the majesty of their surroundings to the noise most humans make to fill the air.

Nearly halfway through their observational walk with no sign of other rangers, Noah stopped and looked closely at a break in the trail. The trampled and well worn path of the trail continued on but to the right, the undergrowth was disturbed. Pointing it out to Jim, the two concurred that this was a recent disturbance of the forest and most likely Ben and Daniel had veered off trail, high and looking for a place to watch stars. Picking their way through the flora, the two rangers followed the new trail.

Despite the circumstances, Noah was enjoying the walk into this new part of the forest. It was rare for the rangers to disturb parts of the forest beyond the trail without good cause. Finding Ben and Daniel was sufficient cause enough to walk in these uncharted paths and Noah took in his surroundings with a slight feeling of contentment and awe. The forest really was beautiful.

The upended pine needle path continued for some time, Noah estimating nearly fifteen minutes since they had veered from the main trail. He was starting to feel slightly concerned and opened his mouth to say something to Jim when he heard a sharp slapping sound. Glancing over, he saw Jim removing his left hand from his right arm.

“God damn mosquito,” Jim uttered, wiping the remains of the crumpled creature onto his pants.

“Yea, consistently the worst thing out he-...” Noah started saying then cocked his ear as his sentence dropped off.

“Do you hear that?” he asked Jim, tilting his head further. Jim froze in place and listened as well. Somewhere in front of them, not too far, there was a low rumbling noise. It sounded almost guttural to Noah, like water pouring from a giant jug.

Putting a finger to his lips to keep silent, Noah began carefully walking forward with Jim right behind him. The noise grew slightly louder with each step they took until suddenly, it stopped. They stopped in their tracks. Noah cocked an eyebrow at Jim and motioned with a questioning gesture of his hand, “keep going?”

Jim nodded and the two men pressed forward through the darkness of the forest and bush. Noah noted in a corner of his mind that he had never been to this part of the forest on any of his inquiries or observations; the wood seemed completely untouched by humans save for the newly beaten down path they were following. Jim stopped for a moment and appeared to be fidgeting with his belt but at Noah’s curious look, he waved them forward and they continued. Eventually they reached a small clearing by a pond that immediately struck Noah with its serene natural splendor. However as they stepped out into the clearing, they both heard and saw them at the same time. It took Noah a beat to fully comprehend what he was looking at.

Near the edge of the pond lay a blanket and small radio, still playing the local college station. On either side of the blanket were two enormous spheres of flesh, completely naked and wobbling slightly as Jim and Noah approached.

“What the fuck…” Noah said as he approached the shapes slowly, observing them not moving from their spot but jiggling and shaking in place.

“Oh shit, it’s fucking Ben and Daniel,” Jim uttered as he drew closest to the quivering shape on the right. Noah’s face took on incredulity as he drew close to the left. The flesh colored ball was indeed a man but blown up to enormous proportions. His legs and feet hovered almost a foot off the ground from the immensity of his ass, Noah judging it to be almost eight feet wide. The legs themselves were encased in roll after roll of fat to the point that Noah couldn’t discern where the knees might have been, the feet themselves swollen almost unrecognizable and sinking into the fat above them. Moving his eyes up, Noah took in a belly that covered half of the fattened legs and spread out in all directions, matching the width of that enormous ass, with a belly button itself six inches wide and receding darkly into the piles of belly fat.

Two enormous breasts sat atop the behemoth of a belly, swollen and perky like two plastic grocery bags filled with pudding. They shook slightly in the night air as Noah observed the entire body jiggle, then suddenly swell out a little more. The feet at the bottom of this mass had almost disappeared. Two arms lay to the side of the massive torso, seemingly stuck and disappearing into the expanding rolls of fat as well. As his eyes traveled finally up to the face, Noah saw the faint hint of the face that used to be Ben. His neck had ceased to exist as roll after roll of fat took up the space above his breasts and connected with his cheeks. Ben’s cheeks had become intensely rosy, swollen to a state that it looked like he had a baseball in each.

Noah saw Ben glance down at him and begin to grunt, uttering something that Noah couldn’t make out.

“Ben, what the fuck happened…” Noah said in shock, recalling the two fit men who he had joked with a week ago in passing shifts. This quivering mass of fat was at least eight times fatter than Ben had been.

“Moosh..” Ben uttered, slurping and trying to enunciate with his fat forced pouty lips.

“Moosh!” he forcefully said, his eyes darting wildly as that rumbling Noah had heard before in the woods sounded. It was coming from Ben’s belly. Glancing over quickly at Jim and Daniel, he saw Daniel’s belly start jiggling then begin swelling in all directions. The man was expanding massively. His arms and legs disappeared into the expansive fat of his belly, leaving him almost completely ball-shaped. He was nearly nine feet around, with only hands and feet still visible on his appendages. His breasts, the same size as Ben’s, inflated as they jiggled, nearing the size of basketballs.

Noah looked back to Ben, absentmindedly slapping the back of his neck as an insect bit him. The now almost unrecognizable ball of fat that was Ben was going wild eyed, trying in vain to shout something, his lips forced even more open from the recent gains to his cheeks.

“Msssh!” he sputtered, his whole body quivering.

“I can’t understand you..what the hell happened here Ben?” Noah asked in horror, then turned sharply when he heard Jim cry out.

Jim stood next to the enormous ball that was Daniel, holding his stomach and looking down in shock.

“Jim, what’s wrong?” Noah yelled, beginning to walk over.

“I..don’t...know…” Jim uttered, right before the first button on his ranger uniform popped off. It was quickly followed in succession by a second and third button as Jim’s dough middle rapidly swole into a beach ball shape. His love handles quickly expanded to the sides as his chest developed two breast shaped mounds. His cheeks fattened and a double chin wobbled into place as Noah heard Jim’s pants rip as his ass followed suit. In the matter of thirty seconds, Jim suddenly looked to be over three hundred pounds.

“Oh fuck, Noah, it’s happening to me!” Jim yelled, waddling slightly over to where Noah stood.

“The hell is happening here?” Noah exclaimed, his eyes shooting from the fat man in front of him to the unrecognizable blobs of men to his side. The rumbling noise came back then, but this time, it started with Jim. Jim’s eyes went wide as he clutched with chubby fingers at the fattened sphere now occupying his front. The noise rose exponentially as it began coming from Ben and Daniel as well. Noah watched as Jim’s belly began growing again, pounds and pounds of fat piling on in waves. Jim began waving his arms in shock as his entire body inflated and began to take on a generally round shape, his feet slowly slipping on the wet grass of the clearing until he fell with a thud onto his immensely fattened ass. Noah observed him begin rising in the air as the fat continued to grow and Jim began to become another ball.

Ben and Daniel themselves had also grown more, their faces beginning to sink into the sheer mass of their rolls of fat. Ben was still trying to tell Noah something but it was just sputtering noises at this point. Noah backed away from the insane scene like he had observed something otherworldly, his eyes wide and his feet stumbling occasionally. A pit in his stomach had developed which he attributed to terror but as he turned to begin running, something brought him up short. A small popping sound rang through the air as he tried to run and he felt something heavy bounce on the front of his body. Looking down, he cried as watched his own midsection, now the size of a fleshy basketball, wobble and grow double in size.

“No…” Noah uttered, stumbled a bit as his chest began to swell. He looked back to Jim who now was completely naked and becoming fully ball shaped.

“No!” Noah yelled, as he heard the rumbling begin again in Ben, Daniel, and Jim’s bellies. He grasped at his shirt as it fully ripped open, then felt his fingers clutch his doughy middle when he heard the rumbling start in his own belly. Turning to face the other fattened spheres that were once rangers, Noah felt his entire body begin jiggling then quickly begin to grow…

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angrelysimpping · 3 years

Note

Okay but consider cat Bailey being put in the loft by another orphan who doesn’t like cats

Pc makes sure to get revenge

oh no😢 Bailey's cat name is Kitty because 1) I'm unoriginal 2) it's cute and 3) I think it would be funny

You're careful about keeping Kitty in your room. It's hard, the little bugger has either learned to tell your footsteps apart from the other orphan's or he can just straight up smell you coming. You're not sure which, but it means that Kitty is always waiting at your door, trying to slip past your legs every time you come home.

That's how you know something is wrong.

The moment you open your door, you're ready for the inevitable struggle of keeping Kitty from trying to go exploring. But he never shows up. You call out for him, check under your bed and in your wardrobe. Your room isn't that big, there aren't many places he could be hiding.

You really hope he hasn't managed to get outside. Or worse, found by Bailey. You hadn't seen the caretaker in a few days, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. You can't recall the last time Bailey was gone from the orphanage for any significant amount of time, he was probably lurking about somewhere.

It's getting dark outside when you finally think to check the loft. No one really goes up there, you almost forget it even exists. God, you wish you had remembered it sooner.

There are obvious scratch marks around the loft hatch, your stomach dropping when you notice how some of them seem bloody. Kitty doesn't come when you call for him, but you hear a low growl from one of the corners.

And there he is, your precious Kitty. You don't hesitate in scooping him up, even though he's usually one to scratch. He doesn't, this time. You think you can even feel him start to purr as you hold him, stroking his back and mumbling apologies for what he must have gone through, how scared he must have been.

You assume, at first, that it's all an accident. That, somehow, Kitty got out of your room and got stuck in the loft through happenstance. That is until you see a slender boy with scratches all over his arms staring daggers at you as walk back to your room. Kitty growls at the boy, his claws digging into your arm as he tries to squirm free.

You managed to get Kitty back to your room, gently depositing him on your bed before quickly slipping back out the door.

------

Bailey is going to kill that kid. As soon as he figures out how to get his own body back, he's going to drag that kid to hell.

Fuck, he might not even wait. He'd like to sink his claws into that brat's face.

He just has to wait for you to come back already. God, why did you leave him alone? He's pretty sure he hates you, that's the only explanation for why you make his chest ache and stomach twist, but he doesn't want to be alone right now.

He climbs onto your pillow kneading it a few times with his paws to make your scent flair up. If he could frown, he would, as a purr starts up in his chest. He hates the purr. He's gotten better at stopping his tail and ears twitching out his every emotion, but he can't stop that stupid purr.

Bailey curls up on your pillow and starts to lick his paws, soothing the small cuts he'd managed to accumulate when clawing at the loft hatch. He wonders what that will do to his hands if he- when he becomes human again. He might have a few new scars to deal with. Just his luck. He always had a problem with his scars aching in the winter, new ones on his hands would be troublesome.

His head snaps up as he hears you approaching. Something is wrong. You're walking faster than you normally do, but those are definitely your footfalls. And you smell...off. He understands why as soon as the door opens.

There's blood on you.

Bailey leaps off the bed. He's not sure what he intends to do, but he doesn't have to think about it as you pick him up, cradling him in your arms as you hold him to your chest and make soft cooing noises.

"It's okay Kitty," you mumble, rocking him almost as if he were an infant. "I took care of that bastard, it's okay. He'll never touch you again."

For the first time since this whole mess started, Bailey doesn't mind when he starts to purr.

#bailey the caretaker #cat bailey #i may go over bord when writing for bailey but i feel like its extra when its cat bailey #idk y #my sister #my sweet innocent bunny of a sister #once told me she would full on fight coyotes to protect her cat #with her bare hands if she had to #that is why i have made the executive decision to beat the piss out of whoever put cat bailey in the loft 😌#no fancy revenge #just good old physical violence #animal au

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peachy-panic · 3 years

Text

“Look at me.”

Hi there. I’m new here, but also very much not, which is to say you’ve probably seen me pop up a few dozen (hundred) times in your notifications with likes and comments and the occasional ask when I’m feeling brave, sliding under the radar from the safety of my obscure fandom-turned-main account.

POINT IS, I’m no stranger to the wonderful works of this community, and CERTAINLY no stranger to whump appreciation, even if I haven’t always had a word for it. And because I’ve been so inspired by all the talented writers here, I’ve decided to finally cut loose and throw my own work into the ring, and the whole @whumpmasinjuly thing seemed like an opportune time to pop up.

I’ve aggressively lurked on so many of your pages in the last year so I’m sure I’m leaving someone out, but I did want to tag a few of the writers who have really motivated me to start this page just by reading their writing:

@ashintheairlikesnow @orchidscript @deluxewhump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain

And if you’ve made it this far into the post, we’ve arrived at the actual content. This snippet is from a project I started writing before I knew about the existence of the BBU, but I’ve slowly started molding it into something that fits more-or-less within the bounds of that collective universe. Some things may take slightly different turns to the rules established there, but it’s the same general concept.

Without further ado.

PROMPT: “Look at me.”

WARNINGS: General BBU-esque warnings, human trafficking, slavery, non-con (fade-to-black ish but the lead up is… Not Great). Let me know if I missed anything!

He knows something is off right away when Mr. Torley calls to him from the end of the long hallway on the other side of the house.

When the children are home, Jaime is confined to the main common areas: the living room that spills into the large open-concept kitchen, the guest bathroom, the laundry room (where he has already spent most of his time working), the boys’ toy room (where he has only gone to clean up after them), and of course, the small room he has been given to sleep in, which he is sure once served as some sort of storage area.

At the mouth of the living room is a corridor that leads to Mr. Torley’s study, and across from that, his bedroom. So he is told. Jaime was given instructions never to go into that wing of the house unless explicitly invited. He has been in his new home assignment for three days now and has never once been asked to cross those bounds.

Until now.

Carefully, Jaime places the mug he had been diligently scrubbing in the basin of the sink and shuts off the tap. He looks around for the hand towel and, remembering he had thrown it in with the last load of laundry, dries his hands on his t-shirt instead.

There’s a shift in the air, something thick and weighty and terrible as he steps into the opening of the hallway, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate. He pads near-silently forward, toward the only open door, all the way at the end.

In the threshold between the hall and the master bedroom, Jaime’s toes brush against where pristine hardwood meets soft carpet. It feels good against his bare feet after days of standing on an unforgiving surface without the allowance of shoes or socks, but not nearly good enough to settle the uneasiness building in the pit of his stomach. Mr. Torley sits on the edge of the bed, a long, deep-colored robe covering most of his body, save for the deep strip of exposed skin down his chest where a few patches of thick, dark hair peek through. Jaime forces his eyes up to his.

“You called for me, Sir?” His voice low and steady, even as his eyes draw unwittingly to the lamp on the bedside table, which has been dimmed to an orange glow that makes the room feel small and suffocatingly warm.

“Come here,” his Keeper beckons, and Jaime’s muscles operate by the hand of some unseen force, pushing him forward. He only makes it half a step in before Mr. Torley raises a hand, gesturing to where the light of the hallway spills in around his silhouette. “Close the door behind you.”

Jaime’s limbs feel very heavy all of a sudden, but he moves anyway, a phantom sting buzzing beneath his skin at even the briefest thought of hesitation. Never make your Keeper wait. Never let your Keeper ask twice.

The hallway is plain and sterile, much like the rest of the Torley house, but Jaime stares longingly out at it as he pulls the door shut, wishing he were out there instead.

When the door clicks shut, he can feel a pair of eyes rake down his back like cold fingertips. It raises the hair on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in an unpleasant chill, but he forces perfect neutrality into his expression before he turns around. He zeroes in on the sensation of soft carpet under his soles instead of the prickling dread under his skin as he makes his way toward the bed, coming to a stop a couple feet away.

Mr. Torley chuckles under his breath, a low, amused sound that Jaime is already getting used to hearing. He seems to reserve it for Jaime alone and it always serves to make him feel like there is some sort of private joke he’s not been let in on. Or, more accurately, that he is the joke, and he can’t quite stifle the lingering sense of shame that comes with that.

“I said, come here.” It’s a direct order, but paired with a hint of amusement and something darker swimming behind his eyes. He rubs a hand invitingly, pointedly, over the comforter next to him and Jaime swallows back a lump in his throat that feels a lot like bile.

He isn’t stupid. Despite everything that’s been told to him, he’s not. But in that moment he wishes maybe he was, and then ignorance could be bliss for just a few more seconds. He knows where this is headed, and he knows that it’s wrong. It is against the policies, against the rules, he knows it is, but he isn’t surprised, either. It hadn’t taken long at the training facility to discover that the system on paper looks a whole lot different than the system in practice.

“‘We uphold a zero-tolerance policy for the sexual exploitation and abuse of Domestic workers,’” a cruel, mocking voice recites in his head, alongside the memory of a leather-gloved thumb sliding between his lips, his wide, tearful eyes glued to the tiny, black remote in his handler’s fist.

The skin beneath his collar burns at the memory, and he raises his fingers absently to touch there, half expecting to feel the heavy weight of the electric clip attached. He doesn’t, of course, and the only electricity he feels now is of a different nature, coming off his Keeper in waves as he waits, a bit more impatiently with every second, for Jaime to sit.

So he does.

Mr. Torley crowds his space immediately, and his instinctive response to pull away is smothered by a heavy arm draping over his shoulders and a droning voice inside his head. You must make yourself available at all times. You may not refuse any order or request that does not directly interfere with the wellbeing of another person. Jaime allows himself to wonder, for the briefest moment, if his wellbeing counts for anything. He knows it doesn’t. They had just spent the past three months teaching him, in every way imaginable, that he was not, in fact, a person at all.

All the offhand remarks from the trainers, the lewd sneers, the heavy-lidded glances and roaming hands… they had all painted him a picture of what to expect. He had just tricked himself into thinking that maybe, hopefully, if there ever really was a god in this universe that loved him like he was sure he once believed, that he was wrong. In the three days since he had stepped foot into his newest post, Jaime had managed to convince himself that maybe, possibly, he had gotten one of the good ones.

Mr. Torley is all too happy to shatter the illusion as his finger and thumb find Jaime’s earlobe, rubbing it between them and then ghosting down the side of his neck.

“Take off your shirt,” he whispers.

Jaime’s blood runs cold.

You may not refuse any order or request. He can’t conceal the trembling in his fingers as they curl around the hem of his standard-issue grey t-shirt. You may not refuse any order or request. The warm ambience of the room feels startlingly cold against his naked torso as he pulls the fabric over his head, letting it fall in a soft whisper onto the carpet. You may not refuse any order or request. His arm is back around his shoulders instantly, hot and cold assaulting his skin all at once and he feels so exposed and he doesn’t want to be here he doesn’t want to do this.

Mr. Torley places a heavy palm against his chest, running it slowly downward, and Jaime can picture what it looks like without even looking; calloused pads scraping over soft skin, all thick fingers and subtly unkempt nails, the beginnings of age spots and wrinkles and small dustings of black hair across the knuckles. He thinks his keeper must be able to feel the way his heart is pounding through his ribs, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that he was sure the training should have beaten out of him.

It’s because you weren’t trained for this, the panicked voice in the back of his head screams as the hand trails lower, grazing the thin patch of hair below his navel. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is against policy. You weren’t made for this. His skin feels static in every place Mr. Torley’s fingers brush, and he wishes he could dissolve under them.

“You’re shaking, baby.” Jaime winces at the unexpected term of endearment. So far, it has only been boy, curt and abrasive when thrown in his direction, usually followed by a direct order. “Have you never had a man touch you like this?”

His mind supplies a horror show of memories, flashes of images behind closed eyelids - leather-gloved hands and concrete rooms of the training facility - and he realizes he doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to cry. Can’t cry. Isn’t allowed to cry. Then there are fingers on his chin, on his jaw, softer than any of his touches have ever been; soft like the word baby on his lips, soft like the half-lidded eyes that he is forced to meet.

“I asked you a question.”

“I haven’t. Sir.” His voice shakes, barely a whisper.

It is mostly true, probably in the way Mr. Torley really meant it, and unfortunately seems to be exactly the answer he was looking for. Dread splits Jaime in two. One part, the part of him that’s hazy and pliant and good tells him he has done a good job, that he has pleased his Keeper, he has said the right thing. His keeper’s needs are his needs, if his Keeper is happy, he is happy.

The other part just keeps screaming. And screaming. And screaming.

He doesn’t want this.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, he’s not supposed to have wants.

But this isn’t allowed.

His Keeper is happy.

Please, please stop touching me.

He can’t say no, no is forbidden to him.

Please don’t make me do this.

His keeper is smiling.

“You’re very lucky,” Mr. Torley says, dragging the thumb that was holding his jaw over he’s lower lip. “They could have given you to any one of your bidders, and trust me… there are some messed up people out there who invest in the services of Domestic Companions. But I can be good to you.”

Somehow, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.

“Yes, sir,” he says, a bit breathless as fingers trace up and down his spine. His own fingers curl into the bedsheets on the opposite side of his thigh where Mr. Torley can’t see the outward signals of his distress, though from the naked delight in his eyes as he watches him, he doesn’t think he minds.

There are lips on his before he can even process what is happening, and he feels his whole body go rigid in his Keeper’s hold. He’s never been kissed before and the cold wetness against his mouth is nothing like the movies make it out to be. It’s hard to wrap his head around the overwhelming sensation, but the one thing he knows for sure, immediately, is that he hates it.

He hates his first kiss unlike anything he’s hated before. Terror and humiliation seize him in equal stride as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to do. He is frozen, for a moment, his own pulse beating wildly in his ears as slimy lips move against his own. When Mr. Torley cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to lean into the kiss, his mouth opens instinctively, submitting to the insistence of the movement, and this seems to be exactly what he was looking for. A low, throaty hum vibrates against his mouth and Jaime clamps his eyes shut tight. He feels like he might die. For a moment, he kind of wishes he would.

He doesn’t register the pressure of the hand against his chest until his back is already pressed into the duvet. Mr. Torley sits up then, breaking the kiss, then stands. Jaime doesn’t look at him - he can’t bring himself to - but he can feel his eyes on him anyway. Thick fingers hook into the elastic of the thin, gray pants he had been given three days prior, and his breathing goes flat. Please don’t please don’t please don’t, his brain lights up with panic, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. But he doesn’t move, other than to close his trembling fingers around the material on either side of him, curling the soft fibers of the duvet into his fists. He wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them burning, then swimming with moisture, and he knows if he clamps his eyelids shut, the tears will spill over and he doesn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Torley.

Instead, he stares up at the ceiling fan, focusing on the long, thin blades of wood instead of the feeling of cool air against his lower half as the material is pulled away from him. He hears the rustle of cloth as his pants join the discarded shirt on the carpet at his feet, and then another sound of the same, this time heavier, but he doesn’t dare look away from the grey clump of dust dangling from one of the fan blades above him.

Worse than the chill of the exposure is the heat that follows in the form of skin on skin, an immovable weight settling over his body. His throat jerks in another attempt at a sob, a plea that can’t let free. He swallows it down and tells himself that if he just keeps staring at that one spot of dust, he isn’t really here, that his keeper is not on top of him, that this isn’t about to happen to him.

But he is. It is. There’s no stopping it now. There never was.

“Look at me.”

For the first time, he allows his eyes to slip shut in a quiet moment of defeat - just a singular moment of hesitation before he follows the command. He feels the moisture slipping out at the corners but he can’t do anything to stop them even if his hands weren’t being slowly pressed above his head and into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into the cold expression hovering over him, fully eclipsing the spot of his previous focus. It’s just him now. It’s all him, every one of his senses besieged by the one person whose life he is supposed to center himself around now. In that context, perhaps this should feel exactly right.

Somehow, it doesn’t. Not at all.

#whumpmasinjuly #whump #tw: noncon #bbu #kind of #like bbu adjacent?#further exploration to come if i can manage to keep posting #Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #Jaime #Mr. Torley

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