maybe it was the glazed look in her eye

I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part II)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: none; S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Summary: The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding, considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her; will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will his feelings get the best of him?

Word count: almost 4k

A/N: yo this blew up way more than i ever thought it would thank you so much for the support <3

Dedicated to: @quixoticcat, @skymoonandstardust, @girliciousdreams, @captainbitchslap, @awkward–jay, @fandomlover03, and @daesunglg

PART 1

~*~*~*~*~

Friday arrives much faster than anticipated. It’s a warm, brisk morning, the sunlight raining down and painting  Massachusetts with a summery essence. Fallen leaves litter the yards of suburban homes and a canopy of those that remain is spread across the road, only a few dots of light peering through.


“Textbook illustration of the apple-pie life.” Dean remarks as he steers the car down a long strip of tarmac. “God…it’s making me sick already.”


“Hold it down. You know I don’t want you throwing up on any of my family members.” Y/N admonishes, letting her gaze avert from watching the houses roll by and unto the elder Winchester; today, despite her attempts to persuade him,  he’s still settled on wearing his usual hunter get-up—jeans and a plaid (obviously)—and his chin is adorned with a feint patch of stubble. His eyes are set on the road, focused, but she don’t miss the way his mouth quirks up at the remark.


Sam laughs as his eyes follow the array of little homes. “Noted.” He says. “Anything else Dean needs to know should probably be voiced out right now. You don’t want him making a fool out of himself around your family either.”


“We talked about this already last night.” The elder Winchester groans.


“No cussing around my mom, no crude jokes, saying the grace is a must, and—“


“And be sure to talk politics with your dad. Yes, I got all of that the first hundred times you told me.” Dean, rolling his eyes, makes a turn for the left and Y/N heaves a sigh of relief. They pass a group fo teenagers walking to school (way too late).


“Okay.” Y/N sighs, then raises her finger for emphasis. “Oh—also, be sure to try and interact with all my brothers. They love that.”

“We’ve met your family before, Y/N.” Sam’s eyes never leave his screen as he twiddles away at his phone.


They had; at the birth of her hunting career with the boys, years back, Y/N had had to make trip down to Massachusetts to handle a siren case that the Winchester’s provided extra muscle for. Their time in town had been spent at her parents’ home.


“I know, but this is different.” She defends. “Dean is….” She pauses, eyes skittering over to the elder Winchester for not so much as a second before they return. “….my boyfriend. Or pretending to be my boyfriend. There’s going to be a lot of pressure.”


“Your folks don’t seem like the type.”


“I just want to rub it in their faces that I’m.”—she raises her hands in finger quotes—“not single anymore so that they’ll get off my case.”


The elder Winchester nods slowly, pulling a face. “Makes sense.”


“Not really.”


“Shut up, Sam.”


The younger Winchester finally lifts his head from his phone. His gaze bounces from Y/N to Dean. “What did Cas say, by the way?”


“About tagging along?” Dean casts a brief glance into the backseat. “Not much. He said that he doesn’t see why we need him there anyway. I told him Y/N’s sister was getting married and she gets to bring a couple of friends, and seeing as we’re the only ones she has…” He trails off. Y/N then smacks him on the shoulder, earning a satisfied smile. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I told him that we want him to come with.”


“And he said no?”


Dean shrugs and continues to drive. The conversation ends there for a moment, and once a silence spreads throughout the car, Dean tunes the radio on and Y/N turns her head to the window.


Trees and houses and roads oh so familiar from her childhood escapades through this tone roll by. Streets, cafes. Although vast and very busy, she knows this place like the back of her hand; the local pool where their family used to go on weekends, the private schools she bounced between. Just down the road, wedged in the valley nearby are the woods where she encountered her first monster at the tender age of sixteen.


So many memories. So much attachment. Y/N hates Massachusetts more than anything; because it reminds her of how idyllic her life was before she started hunting. It reminds her of people and of places and everything the rest of her peers experienced that she didn’t get to; hunting whisked her away from her life, stripped her of a regular teenage hood. But then again, she’s not complaining.


She chose this life. She chose Sam and Dean. She loves Sam and Dean. You can tell her that the sky is red and that pigs fly and she’ll still believe all that first before she believes that they boys are anything but her family.


Boston is a few kilometers off the highway, down a winding road lined by thick trees and shrubbery, and with a few residential buildings scattered around. Despite being a large neighborhood dotted with mansions and the like, it’s a lot quieter. The rumble of the Impala’s engine is evident as Dean, instructed by Y/N, steers his way through. The outline of the city is painted against the canvas of the bright blue sky as they approach. The traffic, taken the time of day, is minimal and so they manage to get to the hotel in time.


In the parking, Dean kills the engine immediately, and then, heaving a heavy sigh, turns to Y/N.


His face speaks no ounce of nervousness, which only makes the young girl’s stomach coil into a tighter knot. She wants him to be nervous. One of them has to, and Dean’s placidity leaves room for only her own anxiety. “So….?”


“So…” She replies, trying to ease away her own nerves. Her hands feel clammy and the back of her neck is hot.  “Just don’t be nervous, yeah? My parents are like predators—they can smell your anxiety a mile away.”


“Not helping.”


“Not supposed to.”


“I feel like I should be telling that you, Y/N.” Dean remarks. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”


“No, I’m not.” She is. It’s a terrible lie and very evidently so, but thankfully none of the boys say anything. Instead, however, Dean reaches out and envelopes her hand in his. Y/N then stills, and feels the color drain from her face.


The contact is warm, assuring. Her hands slides perfectly into his and their fingers intertwine, palms pressed flat.


“We’re gonna kick ass.” Dean says confidently. Y/N doesn’t hear him—she’s looking at him, staring him dead in the eye, but the words enter one ear and fly out the other because her hand is in his and it’s nice.


It’s nice.


They’ve never held hands before, not like this. Dean guiding her through a dark path on a hunt, Y/N pulling him with her as she runs from a vampire. Their hands have definitely touched before, and their skin has definitely grazed before, but this is so alien to Y/N, because it feels nice and like everything that it’s not supposed to.


Dean stares into the young girl’s gaze as he tugs on her hand, offering a brief smile. “Come on.” He goes to open the door. “We’re gonna be late.”


Once his hand leaves hers, it’s like her trance has been diminished, like spell once cast over her has been broken. She floats back to reality. Sam is hauling their bags out from the trunk, she realizes, and Dean is trying to fit as many weapons into his luggage (just in case) as he can. She quickly gets out. The hotel, adorned with a very tropical theme, is down a strip of cobbled path with a few plants at the sides. Y/N follows the Winchesters, trying to keep the pace, when she hears Dean call to her.


She turns. “Huh?”


“Give me your bag.” He says, his hand open as they walk. Y/N stares at him for a moment, eyes glazed over. She’s still a bit dazed. Looking at Dean now feels alien and almost unreal, like she’s looking in one of those funny funhouse mirrors. Maybe it’s just the stress of this wedding, or the heat, she thinks, trying to brush it off


“Oh, uhm.”


“I got it.”But before she can speak, Sam plucks the rucksack from her and hoists it up on his back. Dean scoffs.


“Wow, Sam.”He rolls his eyes as they approach the hotel. Towering above them, it’s a giant of a building, quaint balconies perched up on room, it’s years and history written out in the way vines climb in slender tendrils along the stone walls. Inside, the ceiling climbs so high one might think it reaches the heavens


“Maybe Y/N should have asked you to play her boyfriend instead.” Dean remarks as they stroll in. The place is packed; an eclectic cloud of people roams the room, all with their luggage in hand.


Sam smirks. “Maybe she should have.”


“The reception’s over there.”


Y/N points to the desk ahead. Shuffling through the crowd, the trio makes their way over to the counter, the receptionist smiling at them. She’s young, probably older than them, but still her skin is taut and plump and her brown eyes gleam as she speaks. She types something into the computer and in a moment heir rooms are assigned, all courtesy of her family. Sam has agreed to carry everything upstairs and meet them at the lounge, so Y/N and Dean decide the time alone can be used to go over their ground rules again.


They wander over to the bar, a noticeable distance between them. The room is ambient, lit up by little warm lights suspended from the high-set ceiling despite it being day. Slow jazz music floats through the crowded room. As soon as they settle down, swarming like locusts in a field, the waiters come over, all trying to fix a menu in their faces until Dean ushers them away and says that they’re not hungry. Y/N is a little bit disappointed—she hasn’t eaten all morning—but says nothing, instead focusing on the man before her.


“Can I cuss around your sister?” Dean asks as he leans back in his seat.


Y/N nods vigorously, her expression saying that the answer is quite obvious. “S/P/N’s got a mouth like a sailor. A little profanity won’t hurt. Not around my parents though.”


“Not around your mum…?”


“Not around either.” She says. “They hate it, think it makes you look delinquent.”


Dean nods thoughtfully, then goes on asking various questions. Time seems to drift by unnoticed, the conversation bouncing from one end to another like a ball in a tennis court.


“Can I drink?”


“Sure.”


“Smoke…?”


Y/N wrinkles her brow in uncertainty. “You don’t smoke.” She says; it’s a firm statement, a proclamation rather than a question


“But if I had to?“


“Fine.” The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.  Dean chuckles. The sound is precise and brief but still manages to bring a shy smile to her face.  Moments later, the table has quieted for some reason, so Y/N lifts her gaze to Dean, regarding him curiously. She knows that look—it’s hard not to when she’s seen it so many times, with Sam or Cas, or even first hand. Gaze set on the floor, his lip is tucked between his teeth and he runs his tongue over his lips, his contemplation evident until he finally looks up.


“So,” The elder finally allows their eyes to meet. “What about us? You know…our boundaries, instructions. Do’s and don’ts. What do we say if we get the stereotypical how did you meet quiz?”


“Doesn’t really matter.” She waves a dismissive hand and then leans back in her seat. The fiber of the backrest presses into her back, crackling quietly. “My parents already know we met through hunting, but we could always just use some other cover with my other relatives.”


“So we lie?”


She quirks a teasing brow and smiles. “You have no problem lying that you’re an FBI agent basically every day. Lying that you met me on vacation or something can’t really be that hard…?”


“Where was our vacation to?”


“So we’re settling on the vacation-thing?”


Dean shrugs. “Any other options? I’m sorta just following here. It’s your plan.”


“Don’t say it like that. We’re a team, Dean.”


“Right, almost forgot that.” The elder Winchester chuckles and shakes his head. “Okay. What if we met on unconventional grounds? Maybe I nearly ran your dog over and you got pissed, so you tried flagging down my car and threatened to press charges. You didn’t, of course. My good looks and wit managed to persuade you into changing your mind and just having dinner with me instead.”


Y/N rolls her eyes at the green-eyed hunter, her mouth quirked upwards. “Is that your definition of romance? It sounds like bad lifetime movie.”


“It’s realistic.”


“It’s dumb.”


Dean pouts, then folds his arms and leans back in the chair. “Whatever.” He grumbles. “You think something up then.”


“Vacation it is.”


“You’re insufferable.”


A wide grin stretches across Y/N’s face and she revels in the victory, when Sam walks up. He comes up from behind her, the only indication of his arrival being the way Dean’s eyes dart to the space past her seat.


“You guys aren’t eating?”  He asks, pulling out a seat from the table nearby. He sits and turns to Dean.


“Do you want to?” The elder Winchester looks to Y/N—he’s asking her.


Opening her mouth to speak, she’s about to decline (because they don’t have time to sit and eat anyway), but the grumbling in her stomach reminds her of her hunger. The sound is embarrassingly loud. Her mouth instantly shuts, and Dean’s eyes widen.


“Shut up.” Y/N chastises as her cheeks are swarmed with pink. The elder Winchester doesn’t listen. He begins to howl with laughter, clasping his stomach, and Sam snickers along with him.


“Whatever.” She turns her head, scowling, as his laughter begins to melt away. Leaning back in his seat, little bubbles of laughter escape him, and he lifts his hand.


“Waiter.”He calls. A few feet away, with long curly blond hair, one of the servers from earlier turns. Dean’s ruddy face smiles at him as he calls him over. He scuttles over, a polite smile on his face.


“Yes, sir?”


“What do you want, Y/N?” Dean’s voice is ribbing and smug.


“Shut up.” The young girl rolls her eyes and turns her attention to the waiter. He’s young and his face is dotted with little pink spots of acne. She orders a chicken salad, just like Sam, and Dean goes for stake. Moments later, the food arrives, hot and scented with herbs and spices.


They eat and then, stuffed and satisfied, head up to their rooms to get cleaned up. Y/N just got a call from her parents asking where they are, that they’ve been waiting on them for a while now and everyone is already arriving


when they finally get to their room, Sam waiting out in the hallway, she and the elder Winchester hurry to get ready. Y/N curls her hair and throws on some mascara while Dean runs a quick shower.


“Okay, this is it.” She says, standing by the bed; the light from outside floods the area, bringing out the very delicate and chic design: the walls, painted mocha brown, are adorned with little trinkets and the bedspread is a light toffee color. There’s a potted palm in one of the corners, candles practically everywhere, and the wooden floor is warm beneath her bare feet.


“Operation Wedding Crasher is in pursuit.” Y/N says to Dean


Standing in the bathroom, he’s just gotten out of the shower and is trying to fix his hair, running his fingers through it and muttering profanities beneath his breath. She’d insisted that he changed—taken how many outfits he’s recycled, she’s pretty sure he wore that very one years ago when he first met her parents


“Roger that.” He takes one last look in the mirror, checking his stubble and hair, then walks over to the bed where his shirt sits.


Y/N tries not to stare at his bare-chested form as he quickly slips on the shirt, the front undone and exposing his caramel-colored skin. Instead, she clears her throat and turns away. This is the only way; if she doesn’t, she’s going to end up drooling a puddle on the floor or letting her gaze linger for too long, and that’s the last thing she needs right now. As if things weren’t awkward enough back in the car.


She then looks down at her hand, once encased in Dean’s, the marks from her battles with monster’s still there. There’s a little crescent shaped scar sticking out in her palm that speaks of a hunt years ago, a hunt with a rugaroo that ended in tears and blood and Y/N clasping onto Dean’s shirt for dear life. It’s hard to forget. She can recall getting it, can remember the pain of having to kill that young girl because of the abomination she had come, can still taste the blood on her tongue and feel the pain in her hand.


This life has left her with various moments like that. It’s a packaged deal when you’re a hunter, a sort of terms-and-conditions scenario, to have at least one hunt that has managed to strip you of normality. Something that took you over the line that separates you from the regular world—that was it for Y/N. She was it. That girl couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Having her blood on her hands had definitely been the initiation into the hunter’s game for Y/N.


She has been through so much in her time as a hunter and it shows; on her face and on her body. On her hands. She runs a finger along the tissue, watching it intently. Dean is speaking in the background, saying something to her that she can’t decipher because she forgets to for a moment, until the memory nudges at her conscience once more. The rugaroo hunt. Her scar.


It had been Dean to help her that night. It had been him and his nobility to carry her out of that house before she could bleed out; it had been him and his care, his selflessness, that got her to the car parked miles away from the woods they were in; it had been Dean to stop the bleeding and the tears that seemed to rain from her eyes after she killed that young girl and it had been his hands to cloth the wound in her own.


It had been and it will always be Dean, because Dean is her family.


“Y/N?” He says, pulling her from her reverie.


The young girl immediately looks up and whips around, facing the elder Winchester who is already dressed and ready to go. Y/N’s eyes widen; she doesn’t say it, but the outfit change was definitely a good idea.


Because wow.


Her eyes rake up and down the green-eyed hunter’s structure, taking in the sight of his crisp burgundy button up and dress pants—he looks stunning. He always looks stunning. It’s not weird for Y/N to say because it’s Dean and everyone notices his attractiveness upon first encounter, but this is a whole different case. It’s still him, of course. His eyes are still vibrant green, breaching into a hazel-gold, and his hair is still chestnut brown and his smile and his heart and everything Dean Winchester is still evidently there, but it’s just…different, like looking at the same thing but from a different angle.


“Uhm…” He draws out after a while.


Y/N looks back up to his eyes; her face then flushes and she swallows. “Sorry, uh” She stumbles, clasping her hands together and trying to regain her composure”—you were saying?”


Dean is smirking. “I look that good, huh?”


“Oh, shut up.”


He chuckles. The first few buttons of his shirt are popped and you can see a patch of caramel-tinted skin peering out at you, a feint scar on his collarbone adding some extra touch. “I was saying that we should get going. Sam’s already waiting up for us.”


“Right. Uhm, so we’ve gone over everything, yeah? You get the plan?”


“Yes. Act like we’re dating.”


“Act like we’re in love.” Y/N corrects as she grabs her satchel from the bed and goes to Dean at the door. She stands, body facing him. “There’s a big difference. My parents are going to be all over my case for these two weeks if they see that you and I don’t have any chemistry.”


“We already do, though.” He defends.


“Whatever. Then let’s amp it up—mega chemistry.”


“Mega chemistry, huh?”


“Yeah.” She smiles; it’s goofy and a bit shy because, God, did she really just say that?


But Dean doesn’t seem to mind, because his lips turn up to and he shakes his head. “Dork.”


“Let’s go.”


Y/N goes to open the door, her hand hovering right above the knob when Dean cuts in.


“Can I hold your hand?” He asks.


The young girl then stills and her hand floats away from the door. She stares at him; his voice is calm and collected, like he’s asking her what’s the time or how she is.


“You…want to hold my hand?” Y/N’s uncertainty is evident.


Shrugging, he pulls a face, an expression that says no duh, why not.“Yeah.” He answers. “We are trying to portray that mega-chemistry, aren’t we?”


“We are.”


“Yeah…so.”


She feels him reach out, like it’s happening in slow motion, like she can’t do anything, and take her hand in his. Their skin grazes and fingers lace. His hand is far bigger than hers, rougher, too, but it’s a satisfying contrast as the butterflies in her chest are roused.


Dean’s smile is ribbing and smug and Y/N’s heart is in her as she feels her palms clam up. He opens the door and they step out into the hallway, the heat immediately smacking onto them. Sam is leaning against the wall, typing away at his phones, and he looks up when he notices their presence.


A smile twists at his lips. “There’s the happy couple.”


“Shut it.” Dean says, smirking as they begin to saunter down the strip of corridor.  Y/N is trying to mollify her feelings, rinsing them away, trying to rationalize why they’re even here in the first place. They shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be getting so worked up over something like this, but it’s hard to. The past few days, with this wedding situation overhead, have been nerve-wracking—could that be it? she wonders. Could those anxieties be the cause of her frazzled emotions?


But she doesn’t have time to ruminate. The elevator takes them to the ground floor and they shuffle out once the doors open, Sam and Dean talking about how weirdly excited they are about meeting Y/N’s family as they walk through the ballroom and then out into the garden. . Picnic benches are set up across the expanse of greenery and evergreen trees sprout from the ground all around. There are cobbled paths through and fairy lights (currently off) strung up between branches willows. She remembers this place from when her dad would bring her along on workshops and send her out here to play.


Y/N notices her mother first.


Her hair is an ashy blond, curled into a bob, and she’s wearing a white caftan and jeans. She’s smiling, laughing at the table cluttered with familiar faces. Only about two or three people are strangers to her.


Then, as if instinctively, she clutches Dean’s hand tighter in hers. He then casts a brief glance at her, one of caution, worry, almost, and Y/N meets his gaze.


“I’m nervous.” She admits, visibly gulping.


His eyes regard her curiously. “Why?”


If only she knew. But she doesn’t, so Y/N only shrugs and looks back ahead. When they’re a few feet away from the table, that’s when S/P/N notices them because, gleaming like the sun in a salmon colored dress, she rises from her seat and welcomes them with a smile.

“Y/N!”

 ~*~*~

Ah, Dean…

Will he manage to make it through the next few weeks? Let’s wait and see.

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Have a great day!

Sucker for Pain

Warning: self-loathing, “strong” language

Shawn lets out a shaky breath as he kneels in front of her. He can’t bring himself to look at her. He must look pathetic, kneeling, naked in front of her, hard cock flushed red.

“Neglecting your health again? Not getting enough sleep? We talked about this Shawn…” she chastises him, “Look at me.”

His eyes squeeze shut as shame wells up in him, his cheeks flushing. A bead of precome drools down his cock. Disgraceful. A small, soft, unyielding hand grips the nape of his neck, pulling harshly on his short locks of hair. A breathy moan leaves his mouth as he is forced to look at her, his cheeks burning with humiliation.

“I said, look at me Shawn,“ she commands him, steel in her voice. His eyes open, looking up at his goddess of a girlfriend. Her fingers, buried in his curls, tighten their grip as she raises one eyebrow, suspicion in her eyes. Oh god, she can’t find out. She pulls on his hair and his mouth opens on a gasp, blood rushing to his cock. Shameful.

“Shawn… Do you like that?” she asks him. He tries to look away, but her grip only tightens. He bites his lip, trying desperately to contain the whimper of pleasure-pain.

“I asked you a question, boy. Do you like that?” The control in her voice sears his skin, and a flush spreads down his chest.

“I - I don’t,” he stutters. Her disbelieving stare embarrasses him all the more. She can’t know what a disgusting kink he has. How deeply disturbed he is. Disgraceful. Perverted.

“Do not lie to me, pet. Your cock is dripping all over the place.” Her matter of fact tone only adds to his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry love. I’ll leave, I promise just- don’t- please don’t tell anyone?” he begs as he makes to get up, only to have her tiny fist tangle in his hair and push him onto his knees again. He looks up at her, confusion swirling inside him.

“You’re not going anywhere Shawn. I didn’t give you permission to leave did I?” The velvet soft power of her voice turns his insides to liquid. His mouth parts on a silent plead.

“Tell me what you like, pet.”

“Don’t.“ He corrects himself, “Please don’t.”

What was he pleading for? For her to stop her torture or for her to continue the oh-so-good humiliation? His cheeks are burning, probably permanently stained red.

“I like- “He starts biting his tongue as she pulls on his hair again, bolts of pleasure shooting through his body. His eyes close as the shameful delight of pain coats his bones with a comforting warmth.

“You love pain,” she states flatly, with no room for argument. His eyes fly open, the warmth turning to ice, freezing him in place, choking him with fear. Revolting. Never would she be able to overlook the repulsive nature of his kink.

“Hey, hey, Shawn. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s a kink, it’s not the end of the world.” Genuine concern and confusion glaze her voice as she brings her hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Darling what’s wrong?” Love, concern and pain are in her eyes; there is no hate, no disdain, no disgust. A sigh of relief rattles out of him as her thumb strokes his cheek in soothing circles.

“It’s mo- I like it- It’s more than just pain,“ he whispers. A fresh wave of red rushes to his cheeks at her questioning gaze.

“Maybe like- I think- uhm… humiliation,” he mumbles hurriedly, punching the words out, leaving them hanging in the room.

“Be more specific, pet. I need to know exactly what you like so that I know what to do,“ she answers. She’s kind and gentle and genuine; he’s surprised and shocked that she wants to know more.  

“Being told how needy I look… Biting, may- maybe scratching…” His voice wavers as he lets the heavy words settle.

“What about me being completely in control?” she asks, in a steady, soothing voice. He hesitates.

“Shawn.” He looks at her. Open, honest eyes beg him for the truth.

“I might… like it… And- and powerplay.” His brown eyes search her beautiful face for a trace of loathing. How could she simply be alright with this?

“What else, baby?” Comforting fingers carding through his hair, his heart rate finally slows just a bit. Thankfully she hasn’t run yet.

“Kneeling in front of you like this… completely naked while you are still wearing your underwear.” He lets out, trying to breathe properly. His courage sinks again as he realises he just confessed to all the nasty things he had only ever thought.

“Shawn. I love you. That won’t change because of some kink you have. I love you the way you are, pain kink and all. Do you trust me?” Her bright bright eyes study him carefully.

“I do.” He leans into her hand as it cups his cheek. The feel of his burning skin against her soft fingers calms the riot in his head.

“Good.” She takes a deep breath. “Now. I need to punish you for hiding this from me,” she teases, a small smile playing around her lips. He gulps as his cock hardens again. Her eyes drop to his crotch, chuckling at his quick reaction. She stands up, moving behind him. He tries to look at her but her hand tightening in his hair prevents it. Shawn feels her foot against his ass.

“Crawl towards the bed. Hands on the mattress.” Her controlled voice raises goosebumps on his skin. He is pressed against the bed. Her hand gently turns his head to the side and presses it forward into the mattress. Her fingers leave his hair, trailing down the nape of his neck, across his back. He fists the blanket, muscles bunching, trying to be as still as possible. Her fingernails rake down his back and a surprised moan leaves his lips, his hips jerking.

“Now. That is a beautiful sound, pet,“ she whispers appreciatively against his ear. She presses a little kiss above his ear and a breath wheezes out of him.

“Please.” He manages to choke the word out as her nails dig painfully, tantalizingly, into his back. A whine tumbles from his mouth. Shawn feels her lips curving into a smile against the shell of his ear. Precome dribbles from his cock, his eyes squeezing shut as she murmurs words of praise against his skin.

“Open your eyes Shawn.” His eyes half lidded when he manages to open them. Her right hand finds its way into his hair, twisting itself into the curls and pulling his face up a little. Her left hand moves to his throat, holding it in a comfortably tight grip. She tilts his head up, angling his face towards her. His lips are parted, swollen from biting them as he looks at her. Her left thumb presses into the plush flesh, his tongue hesitatingly licking her fingertip.

“My pretty boy,” she says, praise in her voice. Shawn preens under her words. He sighs, digging his fingers deeper into the blanket.

“Come on. Up you go on the bed.” Her low command resonates through his body. He scrabbles to his feet, lying down on the mattress, kicking the blanket into the corner. He looks at her expectantly. She bites her lip, trying to hide an amused smile.

“Grip the headboard for me,“ she orders as she pulls off her panties, the motion torturously slow. “Now, this is your punishment.” She unhooks her bra as she speaks. "You will not remove your hands from that headboard. You will not touch me; I won’t restrain you.” Her breasts are finally bare and he gulps, trying desperately to focus on her words. “If you disobey, I will stop and I will get myself off on your thigh. And you have to watch and stay hard and untouched. Do you understand pet?”

His hands fly to the headboard as he whimpers yes. She straddles him, her small fingers wrapping around his cock. Her nails not so accidentally scratch lightly down the length of it. His hands grip the bed, frantically trying to obey her rules. A moan punches out of him as she leans forward, her left hand burying itself into his shoulder muscles. Her nipples graze his heaving chest as she kisses his neck. Teeth and tongue, pain and pleasure, mixing into one breath-stealing combination. Whimpers and pleads tumble from his lips at his hips buck into her fist. Her lips move down his throat, a patchwork of bruises and bites blossoming on his skin. His back arches as she sucks a dark bruise next to his Adam’s apple. She moves down the column of his neck, sucking one more hickey at the base of throat.

“Mhm. All mine now,” she mumbles to herself, admiring her work, hickeys and bites covering his neck. Marking him as hers. A moan of her name spills from his mouth. His arms pulling at the headboard making it creak under his strength. She shuffles up his body, her thighs on either side of his face. His arms pressing into her soft skin, his fingers closing around the bars of the headboard convulsively.

“Do you think you deserve it? Do you deserve to eat my pussy Shawn?” She taunts him, his lips so so close to her.

“Yes, please- I’m good. I- please let me. Please let me make you come.” He pleads her. His cheeks turn red at the desperation in his voice.

“Alright pet. You’ve been good,“ she acknowledges as she lowers herself onto his mouth. His lips wrap around her clit, causing a shudder to go through her body. He sucks on the bud, his teeth occasionally grazing her, a sharp intake of breath her only response. He lets go of her clit, licking her pussy, his tongue entering her. Sweet delicious wetness coats his tongue. Her hand reaches into his hair, pulling on it as she rocks against his face. Small moans of praise and his name are his reward. Thrusting into her, he gets the most beautiful response from her. She throws her head back, tightening her grip on his hair, moaning his name. He feels her walls tightening around his tongue, his nose bumping against her pubic bone as she grinds on his face.

“Shawn. I’m-“ She moans as her orgasm takes her over. The hand in his hair tenses further, her nails scratching against his scalp, sparks of pain coursing down his spine. A strangled moan escapes him. She writhes on top of him, the vibrations of his moan traveling up her spine.

She remains on his face for a minute longer, catching her breath.

“You did great baby.” Her praise washes over him as she slowly moves down his body stopping when her wet pussy is resting against his abs. A tortured sigh leaves him at the feeling. She leans over him, reaching for the bedside table. Her delicious scent wafts over him, riling him up further. The tell-tale crinkling sound of the condom wrapper makes him turn his face into his arm. Too much. He needs to think. His eyes shoot open as he feels the latex glide down his shaft. God have mercy on him.

“You are doing wonderfully Shawn,” she tells him as she slowly lifts herself up. His cock nudges against her pussy. She is going kill him. She slowly sinks down onto him and his eyes roll back into his head. Her breath hitches almost inaudibly as he finally bottoms out. Her nails scrape his abdomen, leaving red scratches in their wake, his muscles tightening under her fingertips. She starts moving in slow figure eights, grinding against his crotch. His cock in a vice-like velvety grip. The wood creaks as he tightens his hold on the headboard further. He throws his head back, burying it into the pillow. Her hands digging into his flesh, bruising it delightfully, make moans fall freely from his lips. He is begging her for mercy, for more, for more pain. She rakes her nails down his torso, over his nipple, a loud whine punching out of him. He turns his face away from her, hiding in his arm.

“No Shawn. None of that.” She grabs his chin, forcing him to look at her. She bends forward, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. Slowly pulling on it, gently biting down on it, he can only whimper at the excruciating pleasure of the pain. She rolls her hips forward, her walls tightening around him. Her pubic bone grinds against his skin. Her fluttering walls tense around him as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. He is so, so close.

“Please.” He begs her, struggling to get the word past his lips.

“Please what, pet?” she asks, rocking against him.

“Hurt me more,“ he pleads in a sigh, a fresh wave of heat making his cheeks flush. How could he ask for that?

She runs her nails across his nipple, pinching it between her nails. His hips buck into her as her pussy clenches around him. Her right hand travels up his torso as her left one remains firmly on his chest. She reaches the base of his throat, his eyes closing in anticipation. Small fingers wrap around his neck for the second time that night. Yes. He thrusts up into her as the pressure against his throat increases.

“Let me- please. Let me come,” he begs, a blush spreading down his chest.

“Come for me, pet,“ she murmurs under her breath. He tilts his head back, his mouth dropping open as his orgasm washes over him. A shattered moan punches out of him as he rides out his high. She rolls off of him, letting them catch their breath. She discards of the used condom in the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth. She carefully cleans his face and his cock.

“You?” He croaks out, letting go of the headboard.          

“Already did it in the bathroom darling.” She smiles at him softly. A blush blossoms on his cheeks. How can he ask her to hurt him? God. He’s despicable.

“Shawn. Stop right now.” She sits on his chest again, forcing him to look at her. Her eyebrows furrow in anger and pain. He is revolting.

“Stop it, please. I love you the way you are Shawn! I couldn’t care less if you had a pain kink! I would still be with you if you had a foot fetish and could only fall asleep with my foot in your hands! I. Love. You,” she tells him, desperately looking into his eyes, begging him to see that she is telling the truth.

“Believe me. Please. I love you the way you are, kinks and all. And what does it say about me? Enjoying biting you and pulling your hair and hurting you. Doesn’t that make me a monster?” She speaks calmly, apparently unperturbed by this, but his eyes widen at her accusations.

“No! Never! Just because you like something doesn’t make you a…” Realisation dawns on him. Her beaming cheeky grin tells him she expected his answer. He rolls his eyes at her, pulling her down into a slow, lazy kiss. Her squeaked laugh of delight as he flips them over make him smile.

Maybe he isn’t that revolting

anonymous asked:

Prompt: "You whine about scratches but you don’t let out a peep when you’ve got a gaping wound! The hell is wrong with you??” c: Thank you, thank you!

You didn’t specify a pairing so I did a little Ladynoir with some Adrinette. Enjoy! :)


“You whine about scratches but you don’t let out a peep when you’ve got a gaping wound! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Ladybug swore as she knelt over Chat Noir. “This looks really bad, Chaton.”

“Tis but a flesh wound, my Lady.” Chat Noir tried to sound nonchalant but gave a pained grunt as Ladybug pressed a hand into his side.

“I don’t understand why the cure isn’t healing you.” She looked around wildly for the magical ladybugs but none were to be found.

“Maybe I only get so many freebies,” he offered, wincing.

“You can’t keep taking hits like this. Do you think you can stand?”

He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut as she helped him to his feet. Ladybug grabbed his baton and extended to act as a cane. Chat Noir swayed unsteadily, eyes glazing over.

“Chat, stay with me, okay?” 

Her words fell on deaf ears as Chat Noir began to drop to his right. Ladybug caught him in time, wrapping a strong arm around his waist, being careful of his wound. “Okay,” she murmured. “Plan B.” 

Ladybug tightened her hold on him and slung out her yo-yo, taking them both back to her home.

___________________________________

Adrien woke to a tugging pain in his side. He groaned and tried to roll over. A firm hand held him in place. “Don’t move,” a voice said. “I’m almost done.”

His eyes shot open. “My Lady?” he asked in a whisper.

There was a pause and he felt another stinging tug. “It’s me,” she finally answered.

Adrien tried to control his breathing as he studied the pink wall directly in front of him. “I lost my transformation,” he said lamely.

“She figured that one out on her own, Kid,” Plagg snarked from above his head. Adrien titled his face up to see the kwami resting on a pillow with a small plate of cheese. “Good to see you awake though. Maybe don’t scare us like that anymore.”

“I’m sorry…where are we?”

“My room. I didn’t know where else to take you. You didn’t transform until I got you inside.” Adrien felt one last tug and then heard a snipping sound. “I keep a pretty extensive first aid kit just in case. Ah, there, that should do it.”

“Oh.” Adrien felt his heart being to race. “What do you want me to do…close my eyes or stay turned around while you leave or–”

“It doesn’t really seem fair if I know who you are but you don’t know who I am,” she answered. “Besides, this has been a wake-up call. We need to be more realistic about what can happen to us in battles.” She placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “I trust you, mon minou. You can turn over, just be careful. I stitched up your side but it was my first time sewing a human so let’s not test it.” She laughed nervously.

Adrien took a deep breath. This was it, the moment he had been dreaming about for years. Well, maybe not exactly like this but…in mere seconds he would know the woman behind the mask. The woman he was in love with. The woman–

“Marinette?”

“Hi,” she blushed.

“You’re Ladybug?”

She nodded.

“You’ve been Ladybug this whole time?”

Marinette nodded again but a little more hesitantly.

“Oh.”

Marinette’s face fell, but Adrien didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve always thought you were amazing but this…” he trailed off when he finally noticed her expression. “Marinette, this is the best thing ever.” 

“What?” She dared a glance at him. He tried to sit up but his face crumpled in pain. “Stay down, you stubborn man,” she demanded. “You’re going to mess up my hard work.”

“Then lay down beside me. I want to be able to see your face while we talk.”

Marinette reluctantly stretched out beside him, mentally preparing herself for rejection.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Adrien began.

“I know it doesn’t,” Marinette interrupted. “Goofy, clumsy Marinette somehow transforming into Ladybug–”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he pouted. “It doesn’t make sense how I ended up so lucky.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m supposed to be the unlucky one, but somehow I get to have both Ladybug and Marinette wrapped up in one unbelievable package.”

“You don’t mind that I’m…me?”

“Do I mind?! My Lady, I can’t think of anything better.” He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Do you mind that I’m Chat?”

“That my brave, strong partner is my sweet, kind friend?” She smiled at him. “I think I’m still the lucky one, Chaton.”

Their Story

**NOT MY GIF**

Bucky Barnes X Reader

A/N: This is my entry for @hunters-from-stark-tower ‘s 3k Movie AU challenge. Follows Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge pretty closely, save some parts. (Note: there are quotes in this that do not belong to me)

Words: approx. 3.4k

Prompt: Moulin Rouge AU

Warnings: kissing, bad writing, death

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

Montmartre

The click click click of the man’s fingers upon the keys of the typewriter fill the air with a sense of melancholy.

This man, he does not remember happiness. Only emptiness.

His love’s lips had been cold when he’d last kissed her. Cold. So cold. The taste of blood filling his mouth with its iron tang. Her eyes had been so lifeless, staring into empty chaos.

He remembered pleading for her to come back to him. She hadn’t listened.

And now he sits, a lonely man in a lonely land, telling a story of a lost love and a lost hope that no one will hear.

This my friends is the story of James Buchanan Barnes. The man who’s one aspiration is to teach a lesson of love:

The greatest thing
You’ll ever learn
Is just to love
And be loved.
…in return

~~~

Keep reading

Little Monster part 5

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: Foul language, mentions of sex but without explicit content. If this isn’t your cup of tea, please skip!

Word count: 2.303

Summary: Wanda’s loyalties are tested and Steve has a change of heart.

A/N: I’ve been suffering from serious writer’s block. All I can seem to get on the page is crap. This is my attempt at restoring the balance and getting myself out there again. Hope you like it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Disclaimer: I don’t own these images.

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They found her in the woods.

A Negan&daughter idea thats been brewing in my head for some time now. Let me know if you want more. Enjoy. @negans-network

 Travis was having a spectacularly shitty day. He and his boys had been providing slim pickings lately- through no fault of their own as far as he was concerned. Especially seeing as the areas they’d been given had already been turned over a few times.

But these things have consequences and just that morning Simon himself had warned him that if they didn’t find something worthwhile soon, they would find themselves working for points again and that would simply not do.

So they looked again. Through the desolate buildings, every drawer, under every bed, every glove compartment. They spread out covering a long line a few acres across and trudged through the forest for something. Anything.

Which was when they found her.

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Intimacy

Intimacy is not a concept Betty Cooper is entirely familiar with. She has seen her mother and father exchange countless chaste kisses and pecks but public displays of affection have never been their thing. The more Betty thinks about it the more she realises that private displays of affection are not their thing either.

They are not partial to hand holding, she never sees her father put his arm around their mother unless it’s for a photo opportunity or family Christmas card. She’s never seen her mother’s eyes glaze over with love when gazing at Hal Cooper. Maybe it is an entirely different subject when they are behind closed doors but Betty highly doubts it. Nor does she want to think about it.

She has been in love with her best friend for half her life and has never felt the press of his lips against hers. Has only pined and yearned and hoped that with enough constant love and patience the boy will look back and realize how steady, how patiently, how true her love has been.

But they are only teenagers, their families are not divided by name and house with their love written in the stars, nor are they wartime lovers. She is perhaps steadfast and true but Archie is a child who is still testing the boundaries of his whimsy. There are many places he could go, women he could kiss. The world is not enough, and she cannot see him being tempted to stay put or still with someone for very long. But that’s okay, because she is learning what she wants too.

Betty Cooper is not entirely naive. She’s seen plenty of movies, knows which areas (in theory) like to kissed and cuddled and where to put hands and how breathy sighs should sound against the mouth of her beau. Teenage heartthrobs used to adorn the walls of her bedroom until she no longer had any more use for them.

Polly knew things about love and sex and passion. She kept that information hidden from Betty until the knowledge swelled underneath her dresses and forced her to take notice of her sisters enlightened experiences.

She knows that among her friends she is the virginal one. The modest, high collared prude who blushes to hear the stories of her friends conquests. It is not that she doesn’t want to know the same details, only that her mind has been bleached of any and all sensory information. It has been kept from her, perhaps on purpose, perhaps it is partially her fault.

Betty knows there is a lot more on her mind than that of the usual sixteen year old sophomore. She sleeps little, eats little, and is consumed daily about the fate of her sister, her friends, the town. At times she feels that there is no more room inside her head for new information.

But there are some things that Betty makes room for.

Like Jughead Jones.

Betty can’t help letting out a gasp as Jughead trails his lips down the line of her neck. It is something new to them both, something Betty has never experienced but now knows she likes. She tilts her head back in pleasure as his lips move from one side to the other, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin of her neck.

The pair have sprawled out on the length of Betty’s bed, her parents have gone to bed hours ago and Jughead spends most of his time these days sneaking into Betty Cooper’s room. He makes sure to never wear his Serpent’s jacket when he crawls through her bedroom window. Not because it scares her, but because this has become a ritual just for them. A safe place outside of the forces that seek to tear them apart.

He is leaning over her on his side, but Betty wants him closer. Tugging impatiently on the collar of his sweater Betty pulls his lips to hers and wraps her arms around his back, encouraging his body to move where she would like him.

Pulling away on a ragged breath Jughead takes the hint and settles himself between her legs, the foreign position making them both groan with newly alighted nerves.

They don’t usually get this far. Between the stress of making sure that Polly’s comfortable before the twins arrive, FP’s upcoming trial in court, and Archie’s dad still recovering in the hospital, there isn’t time to be just kids. There never was to begin with. But their heated encounter in FP’s trailer weeks before moved them out of grey area.

They are in a new place. Terra incognita. And Betty is more than happy to stop and explore. She can see Jugheads adam’s apple bob up and down as he gulps against the dangerous sensations running through his body.

Betty places her hand against the smooth skin of his lower back and tugs his shirt up his back, fingernails scraping against his skin and Jughead lets out a choked groan before leaning up and taking off the offending garment.

She would have never thought it before. That his heavy jackets and layers of plaid might have concealed an impressive physique but Betty’s mouth goes dry as his sweater is thrown to the ground and inch after inch of tanned skin is revealed to her.

His fingers waste no time in tugging at the buttons of her blouse. She helps him, biting her lip and watching his eyes darken as each button slips through the fabric. He doesn’t bother taking it off. Just spreads the material open and kisses her breathless again, his fingers dancing on her belly and Betty throws her head back against the pillow.

She’s about to grab his wrist and tug it down towards where she really needs him to touch her but the sound of a ringing cell phone has Jughead sighing heavily into the skin of her neck.

Sitting up he grabs his phone from his pocket and moves to the end of her bed, shooting her an apologetic look. Betty sighs and watches the tense line of his muscled back as he speaks quietly into the phone.

She knows who it is. It’s a call from the Serpent’s. They had been good at first about leaving him alone, but she knows that this is not a one-sided encounter. Jughead wants to be involved with them. For the first time in a long time she knows he feels like he belongs. Like someone will take care of him when he has taken care of himself for years.

Turning her head, Betty wonders where the fifteen year old boy who promised her that they’re not their parents is. She watches as Jughead paces. His beanie forgotten on the ground as he runs a hand through his wavy, ebony locks.

She doesn’t see a boy anymore. Only a man.

He hangs up the phone and pulls his sweater on. Betty doesn’t bother with the buttons of her blouse.

“You have to go?” She asks.

He winces, sitting next to her again on the bed.

“Yeah. They need my help. Nothing big, I promise.”

Betty nods, knowing he wouldn’t lie to her. She asked him not to. It was part of the deal. Jughead does what he needs to do, what feels right, so long as he keeps her in the loop. She fears everyday that she is losing him. That he will start lying to protect her.

His hands envelop hers, but she doesn’t feel the need to clench her fists. She trusts him, thoroughly.
“I know, Juggie.”

He gives her that open look. The one that says that he can’t believe how lucky he is to have her. But she knows that it goes both ways.

“Be safe. Come back in one piece. Or else, Mr. Jones.”

Jughead smirks, his eyebrow raised, and a devilish glint is in his eyes. Like he might enjoy her punishment. Leaning down he kisses her once, twice, lightly. And Betty sighs.

Shrugging on his fleece-lined jacket he walks to her window and opens it.

“Hey.” She whispers.

He turns back to her and Betty keeps this picture of him in her mind always. Light, happy, more himself than she’s ever seen him. Even when Gladys and Jellybean still lived in Riverdale. Even when they were kids. Even before Ms. Grundy came to town.

“I love you.”

He smiles. It is the only boyish part of him still left.

“I love you too, Betty Cooper.”

MATING SEASON PART 4: MICHELANGELO 🍑🍑🍑

(OK SO HERE IT IS FINALLY! I FEEL LIKE I WROTE THIS WEIRD PLEASE TELL ME IF I WROTE THIS WEIRD. I REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT ! Enjoy!!! (maybe we’ll see???)

(Y/N) hopped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her cold, wet body. It was almost 3:30 in the morning. Her body was about ready to lay down and go to sleep for the night, but not before she payed a little visit to Michelangelo. He was the last one awake, and the last one left on her list. She walked into the kitchen, dripping water onto the floor with every step. I wonder if I could sneak into Raphaels room and grab a t shirt to wear at least, she thought. She opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, the only thing they had left to drink. She stood up and closed the fridge, mikey appearing immediately behind her.
“Hey angel cakes!” He pulsed with energy. She blushed, realizing she was still in her towel. Mikey jumped up and down as he followed her into Raphaels room. “Watcha doin’ baby girl?” He asked. She pulled her sopping wet hair onto one shoulder.
“Stealing one of Raphaels t-shirts.” She stated simply.
“Take one of mine doll face!” Mikey clamored in excitement. (Y/N) pulled a giant orange shirt from deep within a drawer.
“Like this one?” She questioned. Michelangelo gasped.
“I knew he took it!” (Y/N) pulled the bright orange tee over her head. She pulled the towel out from underneath the shirt. Michelangelo stared, his mouth agape and pupils dilated. She smelled like fresh peaches. She wrapped her hair up into a towel, turban-style.
“What do you think?” She placed her hands on her hips, posing for Mikey.
“Orange is your color babe!” He praised. (Y/N) beamed.
“Oh stop Mikey.” She walked around him and sat on raphaels bed. “So what’re you still doing up?” She asked. Michelangelo’s eyes were glazed over, mouth still slightly agape.
“Wow.” He uttered.
“MIKEY!” She yelled, trying to snap him out of it. He looked at her like she had just popped into his room.
“Oh yeah what were we talking about?” He asked, scurrying to sit beside you.
“About why you’re still awake?” She retorted. He rubbed his neck cautiously.
“I just have a lot of energy I can’t seem to get rid of.” He laughed. “Trust me I tried.” Maybe I could help with that, she thought. “I’m also really irritated which is weird.” Michelangelo began to ramble on. She stared at the way his lips moved, imagining how they would feel against hers. “But yeah that’s me, what about you?” She obviously couldn’t tell him the truth.
“Oh you know, showering.” He looked at her suspiciously but didn’t push her anymore.
“That’s good news for me.” He said pushing himself towards her. She didn’t budge, leaving there faces closer then they’d ever been before. She knew Michelangelo was a lot of talk but she wondered what he would do if faced with the opportunity.
“And whys that?” She grinned.
“I think you know why.” He smiled back. She leaned forward kissing him, in a moment of arrogance. He stopped her. “Woah woah woah.”
“What is that not what you meant?” She asked.
“Yeah ok.” She laughed as he pushed her back on the bed. He flung his mask across the room, along with everything else he was wearing. She enjoyed his eagerness, watching his pastel blue eyes jumping all over her body, like he didn’t know where to start. He slid his hand up her thigh, kissing her fast yet gently. He struggled to pull away. “I’ll stop if you want me too.” He looked into her eyes and for a moment she saw entire universes floating in the river of his blue irises.
“I don’t want you to.” She said, breathlessly. His fingers crawled up her thigh, gripping her hip. She let out a whimper, arching her back and pressing herself against him. He swooped down landing his lips on her neck. He sucked, leaving a mark none of his brothers thought to leave before him. He moaned, savoring every moment her soft skin was up against his. Mikey forced her shirt up revealing her pussy.
“Wow baby girl you’re already wet for me.” He exclaimed. She gasped as he ran his finger over her moist clit.
“I guess I am.” She replied, focusing on his hand and where it was going. His thumb danced with her clit, coercing her to let him do whatever he wanted with her body. Michelangelo finally shoved his finger inside of her, twisting it in and out. “Oh Michelangelo.” She moaned, driving him crazy. His dick stood erect ready to take her, but he held himself back as he continued to please her with his hand.
“Are you ready for me?” He asked, innocently. She clawed at the bed, trying to gain some form of control.
“Mhmm.” she whimpered. He rubbed his cock up against her. He buried his face in her, trying not to cum.
“You feel so good.” He shivered. Mikey pushed his tip inside of her, pulling it in and out. He was driving her crazy.
“Mikey I’m about to-” he cut her off.
“Not yet baby girl.” She held the pressure inside of her as much as she could. He teased her endlessly, bringing himself to enter her but not allowing her body to swallow his cock fully. Mikey finally turned her around, tummy on the bed and ass in the air. (Y/N) propped herself up on her elbows, tossing her hair behind her. Michelangelo finally pressed himself against her, entering her body all the way. With every pump he induced a moan from her lips, she couldn’t hold herself back anymore.
“Mikey I’m going to-” Michelangelo pulled out and came just as she was trying to tell him she was close. He finished off to the side and re entered her. “Mikey I can’t go much longer.” She whined.
“It’s ok baby girl, just wait.” She did as he said, feeling the pressure build up in her, but trying to ignore it. He reached around her and cupped her breasts as he began to thrust into her body again. “Oh yeah who’s your daddy?” He asked, arrogantly. She bit your lip trying to compose herself enough to let him know he was in control.
“You are.” She wailed. She curved her hips into him, making him groan. He smacked her perfectly round ass and watched it jiggle onto his dick.
“Fuck yeah I am.” She curved her hips again, gaining her rhythm. He grabbed her hips pulling her thrust into his and came inside of her this time, not bothering to stop. Mikey flipped her around and picked her up, setting her on top of him. “Show me what you got.” He smiled, slyly. (Y/N) twisted her hips and jerked them forward. Michelangelo moaned in approval, tongue pressed against his upper lip.
“Oh my god, oh my god you’re so perfect.” He declared. She smiled, tossing her hair out of her face again. He sat up, pressing her back against his immense hands and kissing her breasts, lavishly. She felt pressure boiling in her body, barely under control. She wrapped her arms around Mikey.
“Mikey I think I’m going to-” he cut her off again.
“Do it baby girl, cum for me.” She let relief crash over her body like a thunderstorm, whimpering with every lightning strike. Michelangelo nuzzled her breasts as he came for the final time. They flopped onto the bed, exhausted. He closed his eyes.
“Wake me up in 15 minutes and we can do it again.” He whispered. She smiled snoozing off for a few seconds suddenly realizing she should go home.
“Hey Mikey,” she whispered in a daze. “Don’t tell your brothers.” He nodded in agreement, already half asleep. She found her shorts and left the turtles lair in search of her own bed.

Traitor

Author’s Note: So my week hasn’t started out that great even for a Monday but I was able to finish this one-shot. I’m not sure how good it is so feed back would be really nice and as always requests are open. I will try to link the prompts list in, I’ve never done anything like it so it may not happen or work. I hope you enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it ad I feel over time my writing will develop with your guys’ help.
Draco x reader
Warnings: None
Words:820
18: “You’re judging me, do you see this, she’s judging me.” “It’s what I do, its a hobby of mine.”
19: “They say I’m a traitor. Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do.”
22: “You’re a psychopath.” “I prefer creative.”

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

Y/N sat in the Slytherin common room by the fire, her history of magic papers sitting, comfortably in her lap. She was so focused on her the work in front of her, she didn’t hear the noisy group waltz in.

   “We should.”
   
   “No, that’s idiotic.”

   “I say we go to Hogsmeade instead.”

Keep reading

Fate or Destiny or Whatever

I don’t know why I’m even bothering to post this this weekend, but it’s been sitting on my computer–finished, apparently–since last year so…it’s waited long enough. I started this back after 6x05–but ended up rewriting the whole thing once 6x06 aired (for the obvious reason that my original fic involved Killian & Henry deciding to hold onto the shears). Anyways, 6x05 raised the question–what could possibly make Emma change her mind about using the shears. And this happened. As always, this has been added to “The Lost Get Found” over on ff.net if that’s you preference. And also, as always, you know I love getting yelled at. (Though this maybe doesn’t qualify as angst???)

Word count: 3.3k


Normally, Emma loved that her kitchen could fit her whole family comfortably.

Tonight, though, all those people just made her head throb worse as they talked back and forth about the object she held in her hand. All of them so caught up in the excitement of finally having the shears back in their possession that none of them had noticed her silence.

“We could put them in the vault.” Regina paused her pacing. “No one can get in there unless I let them.”

“That spell has been broken too many times,” her dad shoots back. “We need something better. Somewhere no one will think to look.”

“Maybe it’s not a somewhere that we need,” her mom said, her finger tracing the rim of her mug. “Maybe it’s someone. Namely, all of us.”

“What are you getting at?”

“The Evil Queen didn’t make her move until the shears were no longer in anyone’s possession,” Snow said, sitting forward. “Maybe if someone’s holding onto them, no one can steal them.”

David nodded. “So we all share the burden of holding onto them and she has no way to know which of us has them.”

“Or she could just knock all of us out at once and search our bodies at her leisure.” Killian’s hand on Emma’s shoulder tightened a little, tension radiating down his arm even as his thumb rubbed circles on the back of neck.

“Do you have a better idea?” Regina snapped.

Emma closed her eyes, her grip around the shears tightening. Before anyone could say anything else, she stood, her chair screeching against the tile floor.

“Guys, that’s enough.”

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[Why I Love]  - Chpt. 13

Negan x Addison 

[Summary: While drunk at a party, Addison reveals her secret to Negan] 

A/N: love all your comments and feedback! <33 xxx let me know if you want to be tagged. ** PLEASE NOTE: I have some users that tumblr just won’t let me tag you for some reason? :( **eventual smut. I’m getting there…;)) 

Chapter 12: [Negan gets jealous seeing Vincent and Addison together]

Simon had hit a gold mine. When he returned to the Sanctuary earlier in the evening, everyone was buzzing about how he had found an abandoned liquor store, which meant the Sanctuary had more than enough booze in stock to last them a while. 

It’s a smart move. In those few hours, Simon had a solution on how to get things back to normal. 

“When Simon throws a party, you know the night is about to get intense” Brie stated. We were sitting with Clara, Naomi, and Jade. Brie and Clara both work in the kitchens together, and I feel happy that I’m getting more comfortable with the others at the Sanctuary. “We should take bets on what we think might happen…” 

I watched as Annie made her way over to Negan. He wrapped his arm around her waist, while she leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek. The two of them made their way over to Simon and the rest of his men. Negan took a seat beside his right hand man, and Annie comfortably found her position on his lap. 

“I love how Annie has to make it a point to show everyone just how fond Negan is of her” Jade whispered in my ear, I could detect the annoyance in her voice. 

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i’ll get back to you, i swear. [linstead one shot.]

- Hi, please let me know what you think as I’ve never done anything like this! Hope you all enjoy (:

[Based on the song ‘Hold On’ by Chord Overstreet and is an alternate version of 3x01]

‘Loving and fighting

Accusing, denying

I can’t imagine a world with you gone

The joy and the chaos, the demons we’re made of

I’d be so lost if you left me alone

You locked yourself in the bathroom

Lying on the floor when I break through

I pull you in to feel your heartbeat

Can you hear me screaming “please don’t leave me"’

He had asked Voight if he should reach out to her. To extend an olive branch, to give her an ounce of light into the dark hole she had dug for herself and to maybe help pull her out of it but he’d simply shaken his head and he had taken his sergeant’s word because he’d raised her and knew her and when it came to the drugs and the liquor and the addictions her partner didn’t. She hadn’t let him see that side of her yet, the broken, dismantled and desperate one. But damn it, he should’ve tried harder.

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Downfall [04]

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 2,962

Genre: Assassin AU

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17


As a mere child, there was no way you could have known what you had gotten yourself into.

You knew that your life wouldn’t be the same, but you could have never predicted the magnitude of the decision you had made. Even after the resonating speech from Mr. Shin, the one you felt a surge of empowerment from, you were only left with a vague idea of what you were agreeing to be a part of, but that only served as fuel for your acute curiosity.

The first few weeks at the orphanage served as a transitionary period for you, not only in order to settle into your current surroundings, but to prepare you for the change that would soon follow in the coming years.

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note: a little tidbit after tonight’s episode. enjoy!

“Hey!”

Mick looked up from cleaning his gun to Supergirl. She was in her civilian attire instead of her suit and he did a double-take as she adjusted the glasses she didn’t need while holding a simple pink box. He eyed her once more before going back to his heatgun, continuing to slowly and meticulously clean it in the same way Snart showed him the first night he’d gotten his gun. 

“What do you want?” he asked, keeping his voice monotone, making it sound like she was annoying him. Though, truth be told, he really didn’t have anyone else around him that really talked to him other than Ray. And he was busy trying to track the signal of the mother ship the others were on. Amaya was back on Waverider and Sara was MIA. Yeah, those he tolerated weren’t around and here was Supergirl and her bubbly persona looking to sunshine all over his dark mood. 

“Oh! Well, when I use my powers I consume a lot of energy and need to eat. A lot. Kinda like Barry? Anyway, we went out and got some doughnuts!” She opened the box and Mick felt and heard his stomach growl when his eyes connected with the glazed bear-claws. There were chocolate covered ones too with little sprinkles… but bearclaws were his favorite. Out of his peripheral vision he saw her bite her bottom lip as if to hide a smile. “Want one?”

“No thanks.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, practically waving the box under his nose. His fingers twitched and his mouth was watering but he refused to take the treat. 

“Look. I’m not here to make friends.”

“Okay…” she started, sounding confused: and maybe a little hurt by his tone. He stuffed down the guilt the best he could but he felt it, right under the surface, and sighed. She looked like a sad little librarian whose books he’d just burned up. “If you don’t want one, that’s fine. I just… Well, okay then.”

“Wait,” he said as she turned away, she turned back to him quickly and smiled as he waved her back over with a gloved hand. He took a bearclaw then pointed at her.  “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“Of course not,” she said, going along with his request. “But, you are part of this team, Mick. And even if you do not wish to consider me a friend… I still consider you one.” She reached into the box and grabbed one more wrapped bearclaw and placed it on the table next to his gun so that he could have two. “And despite what Jax said, I’ve seen enough to know you’re quite smart Mick Rory.”

She smiled brightly at him while popping the lid back on the box. He sighed. 

“Hey Supergirl!” he called out to her, making her turn to him, her smile even larger than before. Yes, he called her Supergirl instead of Skirt. If she would show him kindness and respect… Then he’d do the same for her. “When the time comes… I got your back… Even though your back is indestructible.”

“And I have yours, Mick.”

“Just don’t go peepin’ my backside,” he said with a grin before biting into his pastry.

“I… I don’t… That isn’t how that works!” she insisted, a wild blush spreading over her cheeks. 

“Whatever you say!”

END

Dying Light

This is my take on what may have gone through Mavis’ mind as Zeref depleted her of Fairy Heart. 375 words.


Her world blanked to white and shattered by a cruel insult of fate. The floor was still and dead beneath her and she couldn’t recall ever knowing such hopelessness. Not even when Zera’s eyes glazed with tears that could not fall. Not even when Precht cried out from the sting that left him half-blind. When her hands sucked the life out of Yuri’s wife and darkness made a home in the back of her mind, she still ran with hope pushing her forward towards something.

How many times had she perished by now?

Maybe this was the last time because the look in Zeref’s eyes was not of the man she loved.

If the eyes are the windows of the soul, then the soul subsists only on death and agony. There was no love or faith in the face of this much loss and she hated every fantastic lie she’d made a life of, every time hope had advised her to just believe again.

As the world continued falling away, she remembered Tenrou and the family she had and then the new one she gained. But evil wasn’t done with her. Death would not loosen its embrace and the pain of loss returned a hundredfold.

Even still, hope wiggled just underneath the left of her ribcage and she knew the crystal that kept her impervious to her sins would crack and she’d be free to right her wrongs.

“This is the world… the world where we meet.”

The last time he held her in his arms it appeared that Ankhseram had given him just a moment of peace and they knew each other. His kisses trailed from her lips to her neck and she pressed into him needing to feel the love she’d forgotten. But this was no longer that, and his eyes contradicted the spoken desire of his heart.

Maybe it’s all because she fooled herself for ninety-five years, thinking she could face him as an enemy and not as the only man who had ever touched her heart.

“Do fairies have tails?”

It had always been her greatest mystery and the adventure she would never abandon, but now it was just as useless to hold onto as everything she believed Zeref would be.

Originally posted by padmapatil

Did I actually sleep through Christmas?” Wanda rubbed her eyes, Still trying to wake up. 

“We both did.” You giggled, brushing one hand through her tangled hair to try and calm her down a bit.

“I can’t believe it.” Wanda said, Sighing in disappointment. You knew she was really looking forward to spending time with the team together. It broke your heart seeing he like that.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can have our own little Christmas. ” You smiled, Eyes lit up in excitement. 

“What are you on about?” She asked, Confusion riddled in her voice. 

“Celebrate a late Christmas! And make it even better. Bake our own food instead of that junk Clint says is ‘Good’. Maybe even go and see the snow fall in central park.”

“You’d do all this for me?” Her eyes glazed over a bit in emotion, The smallest smile rising on her face.

“Of course, Anything for you.” You hugged her tightly, Only pulling back to place a soft kiss on her lips. “Anything.”


127. “Did i actually sleep through Christmas/New years/ Hanukkah?” {Winter Prompt List}

7

Are you alright my son?’ Shepseheret put her hand on Ahkmenrah’s arm. 

He ducked his head and after a short while shook it ‘I have to let her go’ 

‘Maybe she can stay in London?’ she gently rubbed his arm.

That’s not a point mother’ Ahk turned and she saw that his eyes were glazed ‘I am an… exhibition while she’s alive and not only in night like me. Even if we would stay together now how long it’s going to last? A year maybe? No. I can’t take more of her life. She deserves someone who can be with her. Actually be with her. Grow old with her. Give her kids. I..’ his voice wavered ‘I can’t give her any of that’ he looked at the corridor you had disappeared minutes ago. ‘That’s why I have to let her go’ he whispered clinching his fists. 

You really love her, don’t you?’ she said, caressing his cheek.

I do. I’ve never felt anything like this before. But of course it’s a one thing I can’t have’ he let out a breathy, humorless laugh.

His mother looked at Merenkahre and nodded when their eyes connected. His father sighed but approached them.

There might be a way…’ he sighed looking at Ahkmenrah.

What?’ Ahk turned to his father.

I said there might…there is a way’ the old man repated.

Forgive me father but I don’t understand what you’re saying’ his son raised eyebrow.

This tablet have more properties that you may think’ he raised the object ‘As you know it gives you life and it wakes up exhibitions. It also can cure you, open gates to the underworld and…’ he stopped talking and looked at his wife who urged him to continue ‘…it can make you mortal once again’ 

Ahk looked at him speechless. His eyes glanced at the magical object in his fathers hands. 

We wanted it to be able to do that if you would die young before us’ his mother said ‘Bring you back. We couldn’t imagine the moment we would have to put you in grave. Our son. Especially if you couldn’t even taste what life is. But your brother waited until we died to…’ she closed her eyes ‘Anyway, there is a combination that can do it. Make you mortal again’ 

‘What is the combination?’ Ahkmenrah asked taking the tablet from his father’s hands. His fingers hovered over the golden object, his hopes raising. 

My son, if you are going to do that then there is no coming back’  older pharaon said. ‘No more living forever’

‘What kind of living?’ Ahk looked at his father ‘Only at night? Without a person dearest to my heart? Forgive me mother, forgive me father I do understand why you did it’ he raised the tablet’ and I will never be able to express my gratitude but you have to set me free’ he said more gently taking his mother hand ‘Mom, you said you wanted me to taste what life is. Let me’ he kissed her forehead when he saw tears escaping her eyes. Ahk turned to his father with pleading look on his face. Merenkahre only nodded and gulped fighting his own tears. They just got their son back and now they have to say goodbye. 

The smile that blossomed on Ahkmenrah’s face could light up the room.

I have to go tell Y/N’  he said and started running after you

You walked slowly. your hands once in a while removed the tears that gathered on your cheeks. This whole task was pointless though because when you wiped them away more immediately came. Larry looked at you and sighed. He slowed down until you reached him before putting arm around your shoulders. 

I’m sorry’ he whispered ‘I know it’s hard but it’s for the best’ he squeezed you reassuringly. That’s when you heard it. Rushed footsteps behind you and your name echoed through the corridors. You recognised this voice.

Ahk?’ you said your voice slightly hoarsed. You turned around just in time to saw him running through the entrance to the room you were in. He didn’t stop when he saw you only captured you in his arms and raised you up. You let out a squeal and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

What happened Ahk? Are you going with us?’ Larry asked and you looked at pharaoh your heart started beating faster until he shook his head. This small movement made you clinch to him harder. 

No I’m not. Well sort of…I have an amazing news’ he looked at you his eyes sparkling ‘I mean I hope it’s amazing for you too’ he said less sure of himself. He put you down. 

My father told me that the tablet can make me mortal again’ he smiled. The room was silent.

Does it mean.. what?’ you asked

Ahkmenrah chuckled ‘It means that I will be alive during the day and I will grow old. No more immortality, eternal youth and changing into dry corpse in the morning. I can be with you’ he reached and caressed your cheek removing dry tears ‘That is’ he bowed his head ‘If you want me too’ he bit his lip.

You didn’t know what to say so you only threw yourself on him and felt his head nuzzling in the crook of your neck, his fingers digging in your back. 

Of course I want to you moron’ you whispered in his ear. You felt his body shaking with silent laughter when he hugged you even tighter ‘But…’ you pulled away ‘I can’t let you do that’ 

‘What do you mean?’ he asked his face filled with confusion.

You can’t give up something like that for me’ you said looking down

Y/N’ Ahk bowed his head slighlty so he could catch a glimpse of your expression ‘My love look at me’ you did as you were told ‘I want to do it. Nobody is making me do that it’s my choice and I’m not giving up anything because if you let me spend my life with you then I get so much more than any magic can offer me’ he smiled at you. 

You laughed through tears that left your eyes and looked at Larry and your friends. All of them had the biggest smiles on their faces. 

Go girl!’  Jedediah shouted making you laugh even more. You wiped your eyes and gave Ahk sweet but short kiss before he gripped your hand. 

I would love to go with you guys but the morning is coming’ Larry gestured at the exhibitions. 

Of course. We will meet again Gurdian of Brooklyn’ Ahk smiled before pulling you in the direction of the Egyptian room. 

You both were grinning the entire way there and when you finally approached his parents.

Mother, father I am ready’ Ahk smiled squezzing your hand. 

Then come’ his father gestured at the huge window in the celling ‘We need moonlight’

You kissed Ahk cheek and before he could follow Merenkahre you pulled him close once again ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ 

Ahk only leaned down and kissed you ‘A hundred percent’ he winked and walked towards his father. 

You turned around when you heard quiet sobbing. Shepseheret sat on one of the sarcophaguses holding a small object in her hands that she was completly focused on. 

Queen? Is everything alright?’ you asked slowly approaching her.

It was his favourite’ she whispered laughing softly reaching with her palm to remove tears from her cheeks. ‘He would play with it all the time’  you glanced at the thing in her hands - it was a beautifuly painted wooden horse. ‘I remember when he lost it once. I’d never seen him more crushed. That is…’  she finally met your eyes ‘Until today when he had to bid you farewell. Every mother wants her child to be happy’ she looked at her husband and son who were preparing the tablet ‘even when it breaks her heart to let him go’  she stood up ‘You must be a remarkable girl Y/N’ she put her hand on your cheek ‘Take a good care of my son’ before you had any chance to answer  Merenkahre’s strong voice was heard through the room calling his wife. ‘Stay here. We don’t know how this magic might affect you’ she said.

Queen!’ your voice made her turn around ‘I promise. I love him.’ she only smiled and joined her family. 

You sat on the stairs and watched the scene before you - Ahkmenrah looked at you and raised both his thumbs up making you laugh before he hugged his parents and told them something. But it was too quiet for you to understand and you were fairly sure it wasn’t english. Then he stood in front of his parents and his hand hovered above the tablet. His father started chanting a spell, his voice strong and sure, when the tablet began to glow. But it wasn’t the golden light you were usted to - it was white. When Shepseheret added another line to finish the spell Ahkmenrah put his hand on the object. 

The light that bursted in the room blinded you making you hide your face in your arms curling them on top of your knees. You looked up few second later and when you saw that it was gone you glanced around the room. You quickly looked at the royal family before standing up and running to Ahk’s side. He was on his back on the floor his father helping him to sit up.

Ahk! Are you ok?’ you said falling on your knees next to him. He closed his eyes and clasped the side of his head.

I think so’ he responded blinking then looking at you. A small smile graced his lips ‘I think it worked’ his gaze moved to his parents.

I believe it did’  Merenkahre smiled sadly ‘You’re mortal now’  Ahk nodded before brining you close to him. You could feel his hot breath on your neck when his laughter filled the room. 

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Central Valley Gothic

-You drive down a country road and pass a “pray for rain” sign. You keep driving. The signs dont stop coming, where is the end of the road? why are there no cross roads? another sign is up ahead “none shall leave the orchards until the rain gods are satisfied”. another sign is in view “PRAY FOR RAIN AND REPENT”

-You’re with your friend at lunch. she sighs and says “one day i want to get out of this town” you shake your head at her foolishness, no one gets out of this town. no one. she continues to look into the distance, eyes glazed, murmuring “one day, one day” to herself. 

-it is club rush day at lunch and you pass the FFA booth. One of the members greets you cheerily and says “You should get involved with the Future Farmers of America! You’ll get a cool corduroy jacket like me!”. not wanting to be rude you give a non committal “maybe”. ever since you’ve seen blue corduroy jackets in the corner of your eye. they’re watching. waiting. a decision must be made.

-one morning you wake up to rain hitting your window. the rain gods have been appeased this day. fear clutches your heart as you call all your loved ones, and relax as they all answer. good. they did not take one of your own. you all dance under dark skies and celebrate the rain crying tears of joy that the sacrifice hasnt affected you.

-You and your mother drive down the road in the small city and pass a starbucks. “Oh starbucks! i love starbucks!” your mom exclaims. another block, another starbucks. “Oh starbucks! i love starbucks!” she says again. Every street corner you pass, starbucks looms ominously, is something inside looking at you? you drive faster. your mother keeps repeating her mantra of her love of starbucks at each one you pass, getting louder each time. its gotten to the point that she is screeching it. you can hear the other white mothers screaming in the cars around you.

-at night you can hear a faint chanting coming from behind your house. you can almost make out the words, but not quite. not quite. paralyzed with fear you stay still in your bed. why did you have to choose a house by the canals? no one truly knows what lives in the canals and you are to afraid to look. whatever it is, it does love to chant. you think you will move again soon, this time away from the canals.

-no one is allowed out at night. that is when it hunts. nobody knows what it is, all we know is that it hungers. and when it hungers, it must feed. thankfully you live further from the orchards so it is less likely to watch you hungrily from the window. but some nights, it does you think, you are never sure as the blinds are kept shut at night. but the breathing. that heavy breathing outside gives it away. the sun rises. it shrieks and speeds away back to the orchards. 

Two Weeks Gone

“You know what?!” Y/N yelled as I listened from the other side of the wall. “Why don’t you just come and get me you mother fucker. I’ve got nothing left to lose,” she spat.

I’d been looking for Y/N for nearly two weeks. She’d disappeared while on a case, leaving no trace behind. I had about gone mad tying to find her and here she was in an abandon house, practically begging something to end her.

I leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes softly, my jaw clenching. What the hell was she doing? And why was she talking like that? The words sounded so sincere it scared me. What had happened to her over the last two weeks. I took a deep breath and turned the corner, ready to attack.

Y/N was standing there, arms spread wide like she really was ready for it to all end. The ghost was charging her, a determined look on its face. “Just do it,” she whispered, her eyes closed as she let the ghost advance on her.

“No!” I bellowed, chasing after the ghost. I had no idea what was going through her head, but I wasn’t about to let it end like this. I swung the poker just in time, the ghost disappearing, for how long I wasn’t sure. I ran up to her and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into me, squeezing her harder than I meant to. “What the hell was that, sweetheart?” I asked as she slumped into my arms, her head falling on my shoulder. She was lighter than she had been two weeks ago. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, maybe a week.

“Dean?” she asked, sounding bewildered. “They said you were… I thought you were… but you’re here,” she rambled grabbing on to my jacket, holding onto me for dear life.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. Okay? Y/N! Do you hear me? I’m here!” I practically yelled at her, grabbing her face in my hands and forcing her to look at me, to see me. Her eyes were glazed over but the wheels were turning inside that pretty head of hers.

“Okay,” she mumbled, her forehead falling against mine, her lips barely brushing mine. It was then that I showed her just how real I was, my lips crashing onto hers with a ferocity I didn’t know I had in me. Suddenly her body responded beneath me, her hands scrambling to run through my hair, a moan rumbling deep in her chest. I clung to her, desperate for her to believe me. Finally she pulled away. “You’re real,” she gasped, her thumb trailing my jaw as she stared at me.

“I’m real, princess,” I assured her, pulling her into me once more, wrapping my arms tightly around her. “What did those ghost do to you?” I asked, pulling away from her, looking into her sunken eyes.

“Not just ghosts, Dean,” she mumbled, seemingly tired. I could hardly keep her with me. “A Djinn,” she mumbled, clinging to me.

“Shit,” I mumbled, looking around me suddenly. I was flooded with memories from my own encounter with a Djinn and knew I needed to get both of us out of there and fast. I scooped Y/N into my arms and ran. She had already lost me in whatever nightmare she had lived through thanks to the Djinn. I wasn’t about to let her lose me for real.