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drabbles-of-writing · 2 years

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Haunted Hallways

“The Painter”

AO3

Chapters: 1, 3

In which Hunter meets someone far too talkative, much too uncanny, and maybe just a bit familiar, in more than one way.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He was seven when it happened again.

This time, he remembered why he was afraid. This time, his Uncle had pushed himself too hard. Had strung himself thin, had given himself a craving only a palisman could stop.

It was a terrifying sight every time it happened. He’d been lucky enough to be hiding behind Belos’s throne this time around, as his uncle preferred him back there so he could watch as he worked, but not be seen by any of his subordinates.

His uncle had hissed through his orders to the guards, and it’d taken much too long before they were hastily ushered out and Belos managed to dig out a palisman to ease his pain.

He’d gasped and wheezed like a dying animal, groaning and growling noises that echoed in Hunter’s head. His arms contorted and shifted, black goo bursting from his back and wrapping around his throat—

Hunter had run before he could see Belos calm from his frenzy. He probably still would’ve run if he had.

He was likely running to his room. But like he said, hazy memory, so he couldn’t say for certain.

But he knew he was running away, down through the back hallways that only those hoping to move undetected would take, hood pulled over his head as he raced as far as he could.

He remembered rounding a corner, skidding on his feet, and promptly hit what felt like a giant ball of sludge.

He yelped, tumbling to the ground as swears sounded off behind him. His breathing came out in frantic gasps, scrabbling at the carpet as he whirled around onto his back, pushing to get away and on his feet—

A familiar, circular mask stared back at him.

This time, it was different. His mask was covered in cracks, clearly splintered into large pieces at some point before being clumsily glued back together. It was wonky and misshapen, with one eye hole a bit higher than the other.

His outfit was different, too. Cloak lined with two thick, dull-gold lines, the outer line being paler than the other. The hood was frazzled with a large piece ripped out, as was most of the right side, reminding him of Head Witch Deamonne’s shoulder cape. It was probably because of the hole that this figure didn’t bother to have the hood over his head. This exposed crazed, unbrushed dirty blond hair and a long strand hanging off the left side of his face, pointed ears sticking out the sides.

He had a frayed dark brown shirt rather than a tunic, though he still had black pants with a similarly black belt and gold buckle. The boots were thinner and a darker brown than his shirt, scuffed and marked everywhere. This one wasn’t wearing any gloves.

“Oh,” The masked guy said, voice more nasally and higher than the last one, “he is young.”

“You!” Hunter pointed, the figure startling as he sat up. “Is—there you are!”

“Me?” The figure repeated, pointing to himself.

“Yes! Why’s your mask all weird?” He demanded, eyes squinting.

“Why…oh!” The figure perked up. “Oh, you’re the kiddie the others—ohhh I see. Huh, we kinda thought your magical days were over.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The figure waved his hand, then held it out. “Sorry about that, kiddie. Need a hand?”

Hunter squinted at him. Then at the hand. No matter how judgemental he looked, the hand still remained.

“…did I make you up?” Hunter wound up asking.

“Pfft, nah.” The figure chuckled. “We’re one-of-a-kind. Figuratively, not literally.” He corrected, holding his hand out further. “You gonna get off the floor, or what?”

Hunter hesitated for a brief moment. But, well, he’d take confusion over fear. So, he gingerly took his hand.

It felt just as soggy and not-quite-solid as the other guy.

“Huh,” the figure said as he stepped back, “dunno why I thought I’d be able to feel you.”

He gave a tug, Hunter’s hand nearly phasing right through as he scrambled up to his feet. But they made it, and as his arm dropped, Hunter noticed that he had short sleeves, whereas the last guy had longer ones.

The one he used to help him up, his right arm, was entirely uncovered due to how burnt his cloak was, with an X scar just above his elbow and two claw-like gashes on the underside of his forearm. His other arm remained hidden under his cloak, unmoving.

Self-consciously, Hunter rubbed at the hidden mark over his left arm, close to his shoulder. That one had been an accident, he remembered, when his uncle got mad at something that Hunter hadn’t been part of.

He didn’t think that was the first wound his uncle gave him, probably not even the first scar. But at the time, he thought it’d been the biggest.

“Was there another guy?” He asked anyway, looking up.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, there was.” The guy nodded. He was shorter than most of the members in the Coven, he noticed. He thought he was shorter than the first figure, but that might’ve been due to the fact five-year-olds are notoriously tiny. “Don’t worry, you’re not going crazy yet.” He teased. Paused. “Well, maybe you are. Sentience isn’t really as obvious for me as it used to be, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I was a figment of imagination.”

“What?” Hunter asked again, blinking.

“Nothing,” the guy waved it off again, “don’t mind me. I ramble when I’m excited.” He chuckled, feet shifting near constantly. “Haven’t talked to a guy like you in so long, Titan below.”

“Like me?” Hunter echoed, feeling a sense of deja vu.

“Yeah, y’know, solid.” The masked guy shrugged. “And not some witch who’s a million years old. Haven’t had that happen to me personally, but I’ve been told it happens. Word of advice;” He said, pointing to himself with his thumb, “people who claim they see guys like us are ninety-eight percent full of it. The other two percent can’t do more than know that we exist, and sure can’t talk to us. You’d be pretty good at that profession, actually.” He said, talking much too fast. “If you keep this freaky ability, that is. I hope you do. Wait, no, never mind, it’s probably better if you don’t. Or maybe it won’t be. You’ll already have inside-jokes when you end up with our lot.”

Hunter slowly blinked at him. The masked figure stared silently back.

“Did I talk too much again?” He asked.

“What are you saying?” Hunter demanded, exasperated.

“Hell if I know!” The guy laughed. “Titan, sorry, yeah, not about me. Where are you off to in such a hurry?” He inquired, looking around.

“Oh, uh,” Hunter cleared his throat, ears pressing back, “I-I was just—wait, no,” he shook his head, “who are you?”

“Pardon?” The guy ticked his head to the side.

“You aren’t wearing a Coven-officiated mask!” Hunter accused, pointing at him. “And-and my uncle sure doesn’t want you in the castle! Or talking to me.” He added quickly. “What-what are you?”

“Oh, dude,” the guy sucked in a breath, “he went down the uncle route this time? Damn, he does love that one, doesn’t he? Yikes. I definitely got off luckier.”

“Answer my question!” Hunter barked.

“You asked multiple.” He pointed out, stepping around Hunter in an inspecting manner.

“Then who are you?” Hunter growled, whirling so his back wasn’t exposed.

“I’m you!” He said cheerfully. Paused. “Well, not in the literal sense. Metaphorically? Genetically? Wait, no, that would just be twins, wouldn’t it?”

“You are not me.” Hunter scoffed, glowering. “I’m me.”

“Oh, good, you still have individuality.” He nodded, satisfied. “Make sure you keep it, Titan knows you’re gonna go crazy without it. It’s a kinda shitty, situation—oh, sorry, shoot.” He corrected quickly. “Can't swear in front of a child.”

“Answer me!” Hunter snapped.

“I just did.” He said, infuriatingly calm.

“No, you didn’t!” He hissed, hairs along his neck raising as he moved back. “You don’t even know who I am.” He muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, sure I do.” The figure said easily. “You’re the Hunter kid,” He continued, as if Hunter’s blood didn’t just go cold, “at least, I’m pretty sure I heard your name was Hunter—no, that’s definitely your name. Which, gotta say, horrible luck on the name department, just horrible, I send my sympathy. But, I mean, I do know you, kiddie. Kind of. Belos squanders a lot, and you’re still in the ‘following him around everywhere’ phase—”

“You don’t—” Hunter croaked, feeling frantic as he coughed to clear his throat. “You can’t know that! You’re not—Belos doesn’t—you’re not even supposed to be here!” He exclaimed desperately.

“Well, obviously.” The guy scoffed. “This place is awful, I can’t believe some of you guys have lived—oh, this is actually a problem, isn’t it?”

Hunter’s heart was pounding again, overwhelmed by the onslaught of words. By the fear of someone knowing. By this figure that Belos does not like. No one was supposed to know, that was the rule.

There were two of them, so it had to be some kind of rank, right? But he wasn’t supposed to know about the rank. Or talk about them, at least. And both of them were transparent, and they were weird and way too personal, and they knew him—

Something moved by Hunter’s face. In a moment of instinct-fueled panic, he hissed and snapped his jaws around it.

And promptly got what he imagined mist, slime, fish guts, cotton, and rotting meat would taste like. And the feel of it.

The panic vanished from his mind in a snap, replaced with him recoiling as fast he could, head nearly hitting the wall and sticking out his tongue as he started hacking.

The masked figure stared at him for a moment, looking between Hunter shuddering and spitting to get the unnerving taste and texture out of his mouth, then down to his hand, which Hunter had apparently tried to bite.

“Well, if it works.” He shrugged, retracting it. “Are we still freaking out? Cause I’m bad at panic attacks. From the perspective of a witness and a haver, for clarification.”

“What the Titan?” Hunter gagged, shoving his hand in his mouth. It also tasted awful, but he’d rather the taste of old leather and sweat than that.

“Yeesh, do I taste that bad?” The masked figure huffed, crouching down a bit, though he gave Hunter his space. “Guess those other pricks were right, biting lemons does work.”

“‘soo alking.” Hunter muffled around his hand.

“I’m gonna pretend I understood that. I’m just gonna ask again; where are you heading, kid?”

Hunter stayed glaring a moment longer. But the guy simply kept his head turned and didn’t move. It was unnatural. Not even a single twitch to signal he was breathing.

Slowly, Hunter removed his shaking hand from his mouth. He was quick to wipe off the spit on his shirt and clasp it out of his own sightline. His hands had been scarred longer than any part of him, longer than he could try to remember, calloused as if they’d dug through solid rock.

And this wasn’t even mentioning the unnatural crookedness to all of it. He kept meaning to use those gloves he stole from the trainees quarters, but they were way too big, and someone might ask.

“Nothing?” The figure asked, then shrugged. “Fair enough. Some of us forget where we’re going, too. Especially me.” He said, pointing to himself. He still hadn’t moved his arm covered by the cloak. “But it’s mostly just directions. Those got messed up a while back. But so did everything else!” He joked, gesturing to himself. “So it fits a theme.”

“Like your mask?” Hunter mumbled, still glowering.

“I put a little effort into it.” The figure scoffed. “I had creativity. Have you ever tried making art when your hand is as useless as a cardboard tube? Nightmarish.”

Hunter squeezed his hands a little tighter, pointedly looking directly at his uncovered hand. At the single scar over the back of it, at the completely average fingers and unmarred palms. At how infuriatingly normal it looked.

“Your hand looks fine.” He spit out bitterly, lip curling. “You're such a whiner.” He growled, jerking his head to the side. “My uncle doesn’t like whiners.”

The figure went way, way too quiet. Hunter shot him a glance from his turned head, noting that he’d gone incredibly still, too. His mask was still staring directly at Hunter. He was starting to prefer it when he never shut up.

Then, slowly, the figure’s hand went across his chest to grip the cloak over his shoulder.

“Ah, yeah, that…yeah.” He hummed, head tilted down. Hunter quickly crossed his gnarled hands behind his back. “Shoulda specified. I still got a working hand, but I don’t know how well yours work, do I? My bad.”

There was a moment of silence. Hunter almost snipped at him for talking about his hands, how it was his fault, he should know his place—but he didn’t. The words got lost somewhere between his throat and tongue.

Then, cautiously, in a movement that looked very grudging, the figure grasped their cloak tighter and lifted it to the side. Hunter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

He didn’t know the words to describe it at the time. But nowadays, he’d call the state of the figure’s arm distorted.

Mangled and twisted in all the wrong ways, though the injuries looked long-since healed over. His arm was bent a tiny bit at the elbow, as though stuck in that position, though that might have been him tensing it. It was notably thinner than his other arm, a clear difference in how much muscle he’d built up on his left side.

There was a long, winding scar all up that arm, as well as other patches of contorted skin. It went up and vanished beyond his sleeve, curling all the way down the rest of it in jagged, disfigured marks and raised skin. It went right over the underside of his wrist, a sight which made Hunter wince, and over the back and palm of his hand.

His hand itself was…well, just as pretty as the rest of his arm. Palm dented in and twisted upwards slightly, his entire pinky and ring finger just gone. The fingers that remained weren’t crooked in the same way Hunter’s were, but they sure didn’t look like they had a lot of maneuverability.

The view couldn’t have lasted more than a second or two. Because then the figure was quickly pulling his cloak back over his arm, holding it shut, even if it already naturally covered the appendage.

“So, you know,” He said, clearing his throat as Hunter looked back up to his masked face turned away, “I get ya. Kind of. On the plus side, you don’t really need two hands to paint, do you?” He teased, a bit strained.

Hunter stared up at him for a moment. The stranger shifted on his feet, and he noticed the fabric bunching where he clung to his cape tighter.

“What happened to your arm?” He eventually asked.

“What happened to your hands?” The figure shot back, far more defensively. Hunter was quick to duck his head and hunch his shoulders, and he heard a scoff. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“You’re not the first.” He said easily. “But, I mean, you’ll probably be the last. So there’s that. I’d take the questions just to paint again, though. Gets boring out here.”

An uncomfortable air of silence. Not as heavy as silences with Belos would be, but…not the best, either.

“I thought only the Bard’s had paints?” He questioned, if only to stop the silence.

“Oh, yeah, I saw that, too.” The masked figure said, evidently relieved for the change of topic. “That's why those guys were my favorites. Artists gotta stick together, and all that. You paint?”

“No,” Hunter drew back a bit, “I don’t, it…” He bit back a I don’t like how it feels because that was childish. It was stupid to not like doing something because of the texture. Belos had already been mad enough when Hunter didn’t do things because he didn’t like how they felt. It was beyond idiotic to be worked up over it. “I don’t paint.” He settled on.

“Dude, you totally should.” The figure said, sounding like he was smiling. “Or draw. Do you have crayons? Please tell me you at least have crayons.”

“I dunno.” He mumbled, lowering his head. “S’kinda pointless, anyway.”

“Pointless, he says!” The figure outcried, jerking back and putting a hand to his chest, startling Hunter. “Oh, no, we definitely don’t share parts, not in a thousand years. Good grief, we gotta fix that.” He said, spinning around and waving out his hand towards Hunter’s left in a herding gesture. “C’mon, we gotta grab some crafts from the Bard’s old room. Then we’ll see how pointless it is.”

“It’s just art!” Hunter protested, shying away and, unfortunately, in the direction the stranger was trying to make him go.

“Just art, he says.” The figure muttered, herding until Hunter finally started moving, if only so he wouldn’t be touched. “At least use some colored pencils! Chalk! Clay! Do you like clay?” He wondered aloud, Hunter grudgingly moving just so he wouldn’t be bowled into. “I never did, I hated the feeling of dried clay under my nails, but my friend was really good at it, I tell you.”

“I don’t—I think I drew?” He tried, almost walking backwards. “I-I don’t have ‘em anymore, though.”

“Ah, just means we’ll learn again.” The figure waved it off, easing a bit. “Can't go out of practice now, can we? We can build up to the clay. Clay is fine though, right?” He asked again.

“I dunno,” Hunter mumbled, finally managing to scamper to the side as the figure kept moving to where the hallway made a harsh left turn, “it doesn’t matter.”

“Course it does, it’s art.” The figure scoffed. “Who, in their right mind, is gonna make art with things they hate? Defeats the entire purpose.” He clicked his tongue, stopping before the hallway turned. “Name a thing to draw.”

“What? I-I don’t—”

“Anything, doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t know, the-the sky?” Hunter puffed, a bit rude.

“Sky it is.” The figure nodded, turning away again. “C’mon, we’ll need a lot of purples and oranges.”

“Don’t you have work?” Hunter demanded, though he did start to hesitantly approach.

“Haven’t had any for two centuries or so, no.” The figure said easily, slipping out of sight down the hallway. “Time’s weird. Are we getting those crayons, or not?”

“... centuries?” Hunter repeated, pausing for a moment. He didn’t remember how long a century was, but he knew it was a really long time. Which was weird, the guy certainly didn’t act like he was ancient. Hunter picked up the pace, speed-walking to the left turn. “You don’t make any…”

Nothing.

“…sense?” Hunter blinked, staring down the long, empty hallway.

There weren’t any doors in this hallway. And the figure wasn’t walking nearly fast enough to have made it to the end, was he?

But he must have, because he wasn’t there. So Hunter scoffed and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he sprinted down the hallways, off to where he knew the bards kept their more artsy crafts. Technically, it didn’t fall under their area of magic, but Belos hadn’t stopped them yet.

It wasn’t until Hunter was already at the room, pushing it open with a huff to the dark, empty room with curtains over the windows, that he realized the same trick had been pulled on him. Again.

It was certainly unnerving how silent the room was, and he was quick to grab a box of crayons laying out before hurrying out again, hiding them under his shirt. Just in case someone came by.

He reminded himself to berate the weird artsy guy the next time he saw him. And his lookalike friend. And then figure out what kinds of hidden passageways they had to vanish so quickly.

And not mention it to Belos. He definitely wouldn’t like that.

It wasn’t until he was within the safety of his room, setting down his new stash of crayons, that he realized how odd it was that the bard's art quarters were unlocked. They never left their doors unlocked, always paranoid that someone would steal their equipment.

He pinned it on plain luck. It was a much safer option than the alternative.

#the owl house #toh #hunter toh #golden guards #previous golden guard #ghosts #emperor belos #tw implied child abuse #tw sensory issues #tw graphic scar description #scars #young hunter #confusion #talking to dead people #brief panic attack #weird hands #hunter is negative towards sensory issues but the ghost smacks him out of that bad mindset #haunted #very light angst

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gh0stlymoth · 2 years

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[ID: digital drawing of Hunter from the owl house from the waist up. he is wearing a light blue jumper with a wolf on it and is holding a doll of The Knight from Hollow Knight. Hunter is looking sadly off to the side. end ID]

drawing my two little Hollow Guys...

#toh s3 #the owl house #Toh spoilers #(only for the scars i suppose)#hunter toh #hollow knight #the ghost scribbles #i would love this game he would....

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4-the-chaotic-one · 9 months

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Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV), Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Nikolai Lantsov, Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker & Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker & Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker & Matthias Helvar, Kaz Brekker & Nina Zenik, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik Characters: Kaz Brekker, Nikolai Lantsov, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Alina Starkov, Mal Oretsev Additional Tags: this fic has kanej content but is a brekksov centric fic, Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, the magic is not immediately apparent, Hallucinations, Ghosts, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, it's kaz POV for most of it, what do you expect, darkling jumpscare, he is not actually an active character, but he is mentioned and sort of plays a part, Ghost!Nikolai, ghost hunter!crows, skeptic!kaz, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Again, its kaz, seriously tho they have no right to be this funny, kaz does NOT believe in ghosts okay, Plot Twists, Weird Plot Shit, Sirens, Sort Of, Demons, Monsters, it takes a minute to get there, Canon Typical Shenanigans, Short Chapters, because it just be like that, Kaz gets Therapy, at seven chapters i need to add some tags, the plot is slow to get going, sorry bout that, they are short chapters, Slow Burn, i guess Summary:

The Crows are ghost hunters--it's not their only job, but like a thing they do. Kaz does not believe in ghosts at all, he is the skeptic that sits in the car until he gets called in to make all the paranormal shit stop. Then a ghost in the form of one Nikolai Lantsov follows him home and he has to face that new reality, and the very strange, weirdly romantic, surprisingly dangerous adventure this leads him on.

Skeptic Kaz is confronted by ghost Nikolai. Romance and shenanigans with a surprising amount of plot ensue.

#soc #six of crows #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #king of scars #Kos #nikolai lantsov #Kaz brekker #Kaz/nikolai #Kaz brekker/nikolai Lantsov #Nikolai/Kaz #Kaz pov #ghost!Nikolai #fic #skeptic!Kaz #ghost hunter!Kaz #I ain't afraid of no Ghost #ao3

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autumnmobile12 · 1 year

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An Occupation With Hazards

Mai Taniyama - Young Adult

Given how the investigations seem to ramp up in intensity as the series goes on, it stands to reason SPR and their affiliates would be taking on damage. Normally when I do artwork or fanfiction where Mai is an adult (23-25ish), I like to include scars.

There's beauty in imperfection. Especially when you can come out the other side of a dangerous situation and say, "I lived and I got souvenirs."

#ghost hunt #mai taniyama #hazardous occupation #shibuya psychic research #mai taniyama scars #young adults #90s manga #nostalgia series #nostalgia anime #2006? man this show's old #ghost hunter #ghost hunt fanart

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ineffable-gallimaufry · 2 years

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today in i draw hunter we have *checks notes* hunter. i don't know what i was expecting. ft scar references for the scar i give him in the golden ghosts au

#where does he get the scar you ask #oh boy that's a fun part #that no one but me has seen #and my inner demons but y'know that's a given #toh #the owl house #the golden ghosts au #hunter whittebane

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vesperionnox · 8 months

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[ Day 79 ] It's just a normal house I swear!

Based off this idea

And the Bg alone because i love it

#vnox art #dddaily4sherin #desertduo #grian #grianfanart #gtws #gtwsfanart #gtwscar #double life #goodtimeswithscarfanart #goodtimewithscar fanart #goodtimeswithscar fanart #Inspired by phasmo streams #ghost hunter #ghost #ghost grian #ghost hunter scar

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angeart · 8 months

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drawn for the fic you exist in silence (i'll help you make a sound)

#ange draws #ghost scar #ghost scar au #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #ghost hunter grian #i had to draw this one #i knew i'll draw it immediately after i wrote that scene

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salstray · 1 year

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I am asking for any Ronin info you may have🤠 (also hope you’re having a good day!!) ✨

okay, okay, listen to me. listen.

So- Ronin?

He exists.

Thats kinda all I got. I know how he looks and how he acts and that he would be VERY easy to use as a werewolf and thats IT bestie.

He's an older man, somewhere in his 40s, with totally white hair (poor man went gray real early, but to be fair, one of his staples is that his life has Sucked and he's Very Stressed), dark eyes, and a handful of facial scars.

Since I said in the tags he's my OC answer to Ghost, he is built the way i figure Ghost would be built. Tall, beefy, big. Can and will snap you in half.

I also hope YOU are having a good day!! <3

#also sorry i didn't answer this yesterday #i panicked when you sent this cause i was like #oh god oh fuck oh man i dont actually have anything for this old man except that he's big #he's hot #and he fucks #sal speaks #also if you want to know abotu his scars!!#He has 3/4 claw marks down his left cheek. from his ear to his jaw/lips.#an angled cut across the right corner of his lips #and a straight down line just through his right eyebrow #originally he appeared in my mind as a knight in a medievaly thing i was thinking of #but he's evolved a bit in his roles since then #cyberpunk sugardaddy. werewolf with dilf energy but no kids. bounty hunter/assassin almost mentor type deal #he's all over the place right now #but he's essentally Ghost but mine so i dont have to worry about adding a military angle and respecting his characterization #with Ronin i can do whatever the fuck i want #i dont NEED to respect him #he's mine!#Also his full name is Ronin Silver #Ronin Silver..... Simon Riley.....#i'm not here to be subtle

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not-the-cheese · 10 months

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one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

#i hope this convinces you to listen to tma #podcast #the magnus archives #martin blackwood #tma #jon sims #sasha james #podcasts #gay podcasts #tim stoker #elias bouchard #peter lukas

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multifandomfanatic02 · 2 months

Text

"Stuck in a Trap."

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 : deer!Alastor x human!Reader

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 : reader finds herself wandering the woods alone and falls upon a wounded stag stuck in a bear trap.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨 : deer Alastor, human reader, marked, soulmate trope in a way

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 1.3k

It was a cool night in spring. Nice enough to take a walk outside. You had decided to chose a descent into the woods behind your house. It wasn't dangerous or anything, had a nice gravel path. A few miles into it became an attraction to some tourists. Those who were into the whole haunting thing.

The most you heard were some silly ghost stories. What nonsense, you thought. Some believed there was a portal straight to Hell sitting in the thicket somewhere. Some believed there have victims from past murders buried in there. You weren't exactly into paranormal shit, you've lived and roamed these woods for years now.

No, the closest you have seen were the crazy amounts of dead deer lying on the floor. Hunters perhaps? Maybe mountain lions? Nah. The state of the deer made you feel bad, queezy more like. The poaching of the animals was upsetting to say the least. Whenever you went on these walks, you made sure to break whatever traps you could find. More often than not, all being bear traps. It was illegal in this area after all. Nobody really enforces the law around here considering how scared everyone was with this place.

You had been walking for what felt like a few hours. Your cue being the red and pink sky to head home. Oh but it just feels so right to be there. It wasn't until you heard a loud animal like cry that you stopped in your tracks. You bet it was a deer caught in a trap. What were you thinking following a scary sound like this. This kinda thing should only happen in scary movies.

After a few minutes of wandering around for the source of the sound, the creature in question comes in to view. It was a stag. What a divine animal this was. It was a lot larger than most deer, the biggest set of antlers you had seen. And it's color was dazzling. It was as if it reflected the crimson sky above it. There was no way that it was it's natural color.

Inching closer to it, the reason of it's cry came to your attention. A hoof was caught in a bear trap like you originally thought. Blood dripped from it's ankle, in attempt to soothe it, he licked it. Blood staining around it's mouth. Looks like he'd been there for quite some time.

Bending down to the ground, you hold up your hands hoping the creature would realize you were going to try and release it. All he did was bellow in hopes to scare you away. But you just stared in amazement. Your hand just inches away from the trap, the stag notices and understands your actions. Staying still for a few seconds.

His hoof finally free, you put the bloodied old bear trap in your bag. The beautiful creature bows his head slightly, one of his front hooves folding beneath him, obviously showing a little gratitude. You bent down to meet his gaze, returning the unusual human-like gesture. You didn't really think about it too hard.

Your hand reached out to him, in hopes he'll accept your advances. The stags ears laid back against his head as he pressed his forehead into yours. He backed away slightly, giving the entirety of your forearm a well deserved lick before bounding back into the thicket of the woods.

What a strange interaction. Something you surely won't ever forget whether you liked it or not. Upon looking down, you notice a green glow surrounding the area the creature marked. Looked like it was making out a subtle A-like symbol. Well time to proceed home and wash off.

A few years had gone by and the mark still remained on your arm. After many specialist appointments and surgeries, the doctors were just as stumped as you were. It wasn't a tattoo of any kind, no ink was found in the skin. It wasn't skin cancer. And crazy as it is, after several biopsies the mark simply grew over the scar tissue. It was a complete mystery as to what that mark was. And if you told everyone where you truly got it, they would all think you were nuts.

If that wasn't enough, you often felt prying eyes around your secluded house. The paranormal stories were beginning to sound sane after all the experiences you had. There have been many nights where the stereo would turn on by itself or static would just be heard. Or nights when a dark yet comforting shadow would loom over you as you slept. You eventually became accustomed to these intrusions. Most would have moved out by now.

Whatever was here was like a dark guardian angel. You weren't thinking about the holy ones whom would just, look after you, wish you the best of luck and bring you to heaven when you died. No. This one was different. The type to personally interfere with human affairs to keep you safe. The idea wasn't too off-putting considering you had done been in two severe car accidents and a tornado; somehow leaving all situations unscathed.

More often than not, you would have dreams about the stag you had found in the woods all those years ago. Talking about how you belonged to him. How you live under his protection. He had a name too but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. His voice was really unique and drew you in like a magnet. The dreams you've received were so surreal. Like you've known him all your life.

If this was paranormal, you were going to do some digging. The term typically refers to the dead, right? The town library should have records of your property and the folks who lived there before you.

It thankfully didn't take much to get the information you were looking for. There were several newspaper articles from the 1930's that included details of a man named Alastor. Alastor.. that was the name you heard in your dream. It explained the mark on your arm.

He was a local serial killer who targeted those who were for the most part ill intentioned. Especially toward women. He was found dead in the woods behind your house, burying one of his victims. Mistakened for an animal. Which is why to this day hunting is illegal in those set of woods.

More newspaper articles opened up about his profession. Despite the mans.. er.. hobbies, he was quite the talent as a radio host back in the 20's. Youtube even had some of the old audio recordings. Your heart soared upon hearing his voice. This was him. The stag you saved, the shadows watching over you, and the voice that whispered to you in your dreams.

What didn't make sense was.. why was he a stag of all things? Why did it feel real? Well, as it turns out, the power of the human soul varies in the afterlife. Some could just interact with inanimate objects while others can only muster a sound whether it be naturally or through something called a spirit box. Then, what was Alastor?

Ultimately, you had fallen in love with Alastor. Over the course of your life, you had gotten to know him from your sweet dreams. He often thanked you for your kindness. Never had he met someone that put his faith back into humanity. Who would show such a lowly animal mercy and generosity? And the day that you arrive in Hell, he'll be there to catch you and say.

"The name is Alastor, the radio demon. A pleasure to be finally meeting you properly. Welcome home, ma chère."

a/n: i would just like to say that none of the pictures are mine, creds to the amazing artists 🎨

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samsno1 · 4 months

Text

Celebrating

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

hi, heres what i promised to the dean girls! i don't know what to say, this is long and i don't know if the smut is good enough, might edit later, also, dean in this red jacket is my favorite

Summary: It had been a while since you got some and at night of celebrating a successful hunt you expected to finally, after a long time, get laid

Warnings: SMUT, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), finger sucking, jealousy (? if you squint), oral f. recieving, fingering, dean is so in love ohmygod, english is not my first language, not proof read (if i forgot anything let me know)

Read it on AO3

WC: 4.7k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

It was difficult for you to find anyone willing to spend the night with you in the current settings of your life, having to lie about what you do, who you are…Basically create a whole new personality just to be able to bring someone to your motel room. In that sense, it was frustrating, both sexually and mentally to be put in this scenery but, either way, saving lives was more important than getting laid, even if you were thoroughly stressed beyond comparison by your inability to find a guy (or girl).

You, Sam and Dean had gone to California for what you discovered, after great questioning and piles of research, was a simple salt ‘n burn of a poor ghost of a roadkill and was haunting that particular highway and crashing trucks of drivers who were mildly intoxicated behind the wheel.

After finding out where the bones were buried you went to the cemetery and started digging up the grave. Shovel after shovel of dirt fell behind you while you panted in exhaustion until you hit something hard at the bottom of the hole you dug up.

You harshly broke the wooden casket, revealing the remains of the ghost and a putrid smell hit your nose like everytime it happened when you had a salt ‘n burn. You scrunched up your nose and threw the shovel on the ground beside you, reaching with a hand towards Dean for him to help you get out of the hole.

“There it is.” You say proudly as you stare down at the decomposed body being covered with salt by Sam while Dean reaches for the alcohol in the bag and the lighter in his pocket.

You three watch as the bones light up in an orange fire, burning away what’s tying the poor soul to this world, the heat radiating in your skin. After some time you bump your shoulder with Dean’s, making him look at you.

“Let’s go, I need a shower so we can go out and celebrate” You say with a grin as you turn back to walk towards the Impala and Dean follows suit along with Sam, the fire slowly extinguishing itself behind you.

You opened the door to the backseat, the creaking of the hinges echoing through the night, getting inside and closing the door with a thud. Dean and Sam sat in their designed seats at the driver and shotgun, respectively, and you drove into the night towards the motel.

“I saw a bar not far from where we are staying” Dean said and you hummed and Sam nodded. “You two might have to come back alone, you know” He suggested with a smirk and Sam scrunched his nose and let out an amused huff and you chuckled dryly, a weird nausea bubbling in your stomach.

Deep down you wished Dean could see you the way he sees the bartenders and strippers in bars or clubs you three often go to. You didn’t know if he thought you were too rough, too scarred, both mentally and physically. You usually dressed up nice, using makeup from time to time when you noticed your eyebags were getting darker or when your lips looked too pale. You also tried your best with clothing, well, the best someone could do when you were a hunter. Either way, you never looked like those girls, they were absolutely stunning, even for you, and you couldn’t compete with them.

You shook your head. You were probably thinking these things because it had been some time since you last got laid. Tonight was your night, you were feeling it, you were taking someone to your room.

Dean turned the car off after parking and you got out, going to the trunk to get your bag.

“You guys meet me in my room? I’ll most likely take longer to get ready” You said with a grin and the boys nodded. You took out the keys to your room and got in, throwing your bag over your bed and going to another bag you had in your room, where you kept your “fancy” clothes and makeup.

You took out a beautiful black dress with long sleeves that ended in your mid thighs. It was a dress you thrifted when you went on a hunt alone a while ago and never had the opportunity to use it. When you tried it on, though, it hugged your curves in all the right places, made your body look amazing and you felt as confident as one could feel.

You left the dress over the bed and rushed to the bathroom to take a shower, smiling to yourself. You took your time, washed your hair thoroughly and finished it off in the usual way. In the hunting life you often get your hair very dirty almost everyday with blood, dirt, ectoplasm…you name it. So, keeping it lucious and healthy was a process that you grew fond of doing to recollect some of that normalcy that hunting didn’t give you.

You came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body and picked up an underwear set that was, well, sensual to say the least and dropped the towel to the ground to put it on, the dress going over it, careful not to mess up your hair in the process.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and whistled in surprise at your own appearance, you looked good. Time for makeup.

You didn’t do much, a simple concealer, contour and blush with mascara and a smokey eye was enough to drop any man to the ground.

You decided to put shoes on because, first, if you really had to walk back, heels weren’t helpful, second, you didn’t have your heels with you at the moment.

While you were finishing up you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and there they were, Sam and Dean, practically on the same looks, just cleaner, waiting for you.

They both eyed you up and down, drinking your appearance in, Dean dropping his jaw slightly as he stared at your exposed thighs. Sam let out an impressed sigh and cleared his throat.

“Wow Y/N you look…amazing” He said and you smiled, looking down, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

“Yeah…” Dean agrees, half on earth, half in his head trying to get rid of the thoughts of those beautiful legs wrapped around his neck while his nose deep into your–

“Well, thank you, I hope it isn’t too much.” You said.

“No, n–no, ha, it’s not, at all,” Dean said to quickly, finally grasping the courage to look into your eyes, the beautiful colors drowning him and your shy smile making him want to smash his lips to yours that moment. He cleared his throat. “Shall we go?” He offered.

“Yes, let me just get my phone” You said and went inside for a couple seconds, coming out with it and your wallet. “C’mon!”

You passed through them and went towards the car. Sam elbowed Dean to make him turn to him.

“You are staring at her like she’s a cheeseburger and you haven’t eaten in days, man” Sam teased and Dean frowned at him “You were practically drooling”

“I–I was not, okay? She just looks…pretty, that's all” Dean said, ignoring Sam’s ‘Yeah, right’ and going to the driver's seat in the Impala, you already sat down in the backseat. After Sam got in you all went to the bar and you felt particularly excited this time.

“Okay, every single one who tried to flirt with me was a disaster” You said, coming back to the table with a sigh, Sam and Dean almost laughing at you as you handed them their beers. “Seriously, who do I have to kill to get laid in this shit”

You took a swig of your beer and looked around once more, trying to find a decent man for you to take back tonight when you eyed a handsome black haired guy a few feet away. You smiled to yourself and got up from your seat.

When you walked up to him you didn’t see it but Dean was fuming with jealousy, this feeling bubbling up inside him that made his fists unconsciously clench over the table. He tried flirting with other women that night, chatting them up like he usually did but it all went down the drain the moment his eyes darted to you again, a guy practically snuggling up to you while you gently pushed him away and refused his advances, either not finding him attractive or just not feeling a spark.

He should be the one you looked at, he knew everything about you, how you liked your coffee, your favorite drinks, the faint lines that would appear around your lips when you smiled, the way your eyes lit up when you were talking about something you enjoyed. He knows you.

Sam noticed his brother’s demeanor and called out to him to snap him out of his jealous haze. Dean turned his eyes to Sam and he had this stupid smirk on his face, sipping the beer once again to hide his amused smile.

“What?” Dean snapped, his hand wrapping around the bottle, the cool glass doing nothing to ease his temper down, his knee going up and down under the table with nervousness.

“Nothin’” Sam answered and finished his beer, getting up and leaving a couple dollars, enough to pay for the beers he drank. “I’m going back, y’know, tired. Tell Y/N”

Dean nodded, he didn’t know if Sam meant for him to tell you that Sam went back or that you’ve been in his dreams for months now, not all of them cute and fluffy, some made him wake up with a hard-on, sweating and longing for you.

He looked in your direction and you were coming back with an annoyed face, arms crossed in front of you, feet stomping the ground. Dean made a confused face and when you got back to the table you sat down on the chair with a scoff, his eyes never leaving you.

“He has a girlfriend” You murmured and then realized you were one man short “Where’s Sam?”

“He called in, tired” Dean said and you hummed. He had a weird look on his face, something you couldn’t make out what was. You sighed and looked down.

“I think we should go too, this night was disappointing to me” You breathed out a laugh “I’m impressed you didn’t find anyone, I saw some girls eyeing you”

“Nah, I’m fine,” He said and finished his beer. You widened your eyes at him but didn’t say anything, just nodding hesitantly in shock. “Let 's go?”

He said getting up and you mirrored him, pulling your dress down a bit, Dean’s eyes on you all the time. He bit his lower lip and mentally told himself to cool it.

As you two walked towards the car you couldn’t help but look at him up and down, silently appreciating his figure. His strong jawline, his green eyes now dark thanks to the night, his slightly crooked nose that made him look unique.

When you got into the car, in silence, you drove back to the motel and you felt an unmistakable tension in the air and you were worried you might’ve done something to upset the man. You started to fidget with your fingers over your lap, the street lights going past the car through the window as Dean sped up through the pavement.

His hands gripped the wheel, holding back the urge to pounce on you right there and then. When he parked the car and reached for the door handle you held his wrist.

“Wait! Dean, is something the matter?” You asked, big eyes looking into his as he looked at you, noticing the trouble behind those beautiful orbs. He wanted to punch himself in the gut for making you feel bad. “What happened?”

“Nothing it’s just…” He trailed off and looked at your hand wrapping his wrist. His other hand enveloped over it and your skin flared up with goosebumps. He felt warm, rough, his strong grip comforting. You took your hand away from his wrist, allowing his hand to wrap over your and pull you into him.

You yelped and was about to question him when you felt his plump lips against yours, his other hand hesitantly holding your cheek and you melted. It took you a while to process what was happening. Dean Winchester is kissing you. Though, when you did, your free hand went to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.

Everything felt like a fever dream and you were afraid that if you pulled away you’d wake up and Dean would be gone. His lips had a taste of beer lingering from the night out, they were full and smooth. You felt like you were drowning in this feeling until Dean pulled away, seeking a breath of air.

You looked between his eyes, your breaths molding into each other from the closeness. You moved the hand he was holding up his chest, to his shoulder, up to his cheek, his eyes closing and his head snuggling against your hand, his fingers fidgeting around your wrist.

He opened his eyes, a thousand feelings swimming behind his green orbs as you both communicate in silence, an agreement, a revelation. You smiled and pulled him in again, this time with no hesitation. His hand went down your arm slowly, your skin warming up where his hand passed by, and settled by your waist, pulling you closer. His tongue teased your bottom lip and you eagerly opened your mouth with a low moan.

At that, he smirked into the kiss and pulled you over his lap, the steering wheel digging into your back, his hands both placed at your hips as you unconsciously rocked against him. He let go of your mouth again and you stared down at him.

“I wanted to do this so bad” He whispered and you smiled, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck mindlessly. He placed a loving kiss at your jaw and pulled away again while you hummed, content.

When you looked at his face again there was a frown and he was avoiding your eyes. You grabbed both his cheeks and made him look at you.

“What was that thought, hm?” You ask lightly as to not push him away. You didn’t want this to end, not ever. He seemed nervous.

“What does this mean to you?” He asked and you furrowed your eyebrows. “To me, Y/N,” he continued, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs “you’re everything, I mean, you– you’re perfect. You’ve seen everything I’ve done and never let me down, you’re beautiful and so much more. If to you I’m just a way to get off then–”

You cut him off with a peck on his lips.

“Stop. Right there.” You started, looking deep into his eyes. “Dean I– you are everything I’ve ever wanted, needed. You mean more to me than words can describe, you’re not just a one night stand, you’re my dream”

When you finished, he didn’t waste a second to wrap a hand behind your neck and steal your lips again, his mouth addicting. There was so much passion, feeling and desire pumping through your veins.

Your dress was high on your thighs and one of his hands squeezed the flesh hungrily, making you groan in his mouth. He went further with his hand, his thumb caressing over your covered sex and you opened your mouth in a whimper.

Dean attacked your neck with kisses and hickeys, his teeth leaving a pattern over your skin as his hand ghosts over where you need him the most.

“Dean…” You say, a beg behind your words and he pulls away, both his hand and his mouth, making you shiver from the lack of contact and the cool feeling his saliva left behind over your neck.

“Sweetheart, as much as I’d like to have you in the car,” He said, his voice rough and deeper with lust, his pupils wide as he opened the door, a cool breeze coming in that did little to nothing to cool your skin off. “you deserve a bed, another time” He finished, leaving an open mouthed kiss under your ear.

Another time. You nodded, words failing you as you stepped out of the car, adjusting your dress and hair the best you could to seem decent. Dean stood up behind you and let a hand linger on your waist, eager to touch you at all times and all ways.

You both walked towards the door of your room, Dean’s fingers tightening on your skin the longer it took for you to get the door open. The moment you were able to open it, he pushed both of you in, turning you around and pinning you to the door inside, closing it with a loud noise behind your back and his lips were on your again, his hands roaming over every inch of your skin.

You yelped in shock but soon reciprocated the touches and kisses, your fingers wrapping around his jacket and pulling it off, his hands momentarily leaving you to drop it to the ground. When his hands came back he grabbed both your legs and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips for support, his fingers digging into your skin yet again.

Your hands pulled on his hair, your tongues battling in a messy kiss when you feel your body move to the bed, your body being gently placed over it.

Dean pulled away, standing up fully and you took him in with a bite of your lip. He unbuttoned his flannel, slowly and you lifted your dress over your hips, lifting them off the bed to help, revealing your panties and over your head to take it off completely and throwing the fabric away.

Dean’s breathing got heavier, the confine of his pants bothering him as he finally discards the flannel, torso naked to you. You drink his defined physique with hooded eyes and he smirks down at you, his head going close to the waistband of your panties, eyes never leaving yours as he leaves kisses from your hips to your stomach to the valley of your breasts until he came face to face with you again, a smile lingering in his lips making one of your own appear on yours.

Your hands grab at his cheeks and pull him in again as he holds you by your waist, pulling your near naked torso into his. His fingers ghost over every inch of new exposed skin as if he was memorizing every atom of your being like you were going to disappear.

Your hands start to explore over his chest, the strong muscles flexing against your palms, your nails scratching at his wide back and shoulders.

His hands travel behind your back to unclasp your bra and you let him, letting the undergarment go loose against your breasts and Dean takes it off. He drinks the view in, staring and you start to feel self-conscious and take your hands to cover yourself up. Dean catches onto that and kisses you again, one big hand grabbing at your right breast and you whimper in his mouth.

“I always knew you were beautiful” He whispers against your lips and pulls back to look at you again “But you are the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on”

This time you turned away from him with a stupid smile on your face.

“Says you” You say and turn to him again, your hands over his shoulders and moving towards his back “Your back is a perfect place for my nails to dig in” You whisper seductively on his ear and leave a hickey on his neck. He groans and lowers his head to wrap his mouth around one of your nipples, the warm feeling against the sensitive nub making you arch your back into him and your fingers to tangle in his hair.

“Dean, fuck–” You moan as he gently bites your nipple and moves to the other breast, his eyes looking at you from below and drinking in your noises.

One of his hands sneaked up your inner thigh and teased your clit over your panties and you shivered, a smirk on his lips against your breast. He slowly took your panties off, discarding them on the ground and now you were completely bare below him, vulnerable.

His middle finger pressed over your clit and you arched again.

“Dean, please…” You beg, your best attempt at puppy dog eyes looking down at him and he adds his ring finger, starting to do slow circles over the sensitive nub as he kisses up your neck, your noises of pleasure egging him on.

He lowers his fingers to your entrance and he slips both in with no restraint given your wetness, the feeling making you let out a moan and grab onto his shoulders as he hooks his fingers inside you, touching that special spot.

He smirks smugly and continues his ministrations, your pussy clenching and tightening around his fingers making him groan.

“You’re so wet” He mumbles “I wonder how you taste like” He gives your nose a peck, your mind too drowned in pleasure to respond to his words. He kisses down your body, his fingers never leaving you, until he's facing your cunt. He places both your legs over his shoulders, your thighs resting around his cheeks, the light stubble leaving a tingly feeling behind.

He leaves a lingering kiss over your clit and you buck your hips, looking for more friction. He teases a bit more, biting and sucking at your inner thighs, everywhere but where you needed his mouth to be. You took charge and grabbed at his hair, pulling his face closer and he complied.

“Oh, fuck!” You groan.

His tongue licked at your sex and your loud moans echoed through the walls, the warm muscle doing wonders against you and the mix of his fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge, your eyes fluttering close in bliss.

“Dean, God” You moan as he squeezes your thigh. All the ministrations send shivers down your spine, your core tightening inside you, that familiar rush of warmth spreading through you. Your thighs try to close, forgetting Dean’s in between and he hums against your cunt, the vibrations making you feel like you were in heaven. “I’m cumming”

“Cum for me princess” He mumbles and you let go with a chant of his name. The feeling washes over you, making you feel lighter for a couple seconds, Dean helping you ride out your orgasm. When the stimulation becomes too much and you whine and squirm away, he gets up from his knees, chin glistening in your juices. He took his fingers out, a grunt scaping your throat at the emptiness. It was a sinful sight.

He crawled over you again, his middle and index finger teasing at your bottom lip.

“Open up” He said, voice deep and demanding and you obeyed, opening your mouth and letting his fingers in. You lick your juices clean off his fingers, never breaking eye contact, humming and moaning against his digits as Dean bites his lips with force. Your hand travels down to unbuckle his belt and he takes his fingers away from your mouth to kiss you.

Once you got the belt open, Dean backed away, taking his shoes off and unzipping his pants. Meanwhile, you drank in his appearance. His hair was a mess, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, his arms flexing as he lowered his pants along with his boxers. He was divine.

When he dropped the jeans his eyes drifted back to you, catching you staring and he smirks.

“See something you like?” He asks, closing the gap between you again, smashing your lips to his in yet another breathtaking kiss.

He completely lies you down on the mattress, his elbows supporting his weight over you as his cock bumps against your sensitive sex and you gasp, hand gripping the back of his neck.

“Fuck me” You say, bluntly and whiny but he gets the hint and aligns his member to your hole.

“Yes Ma’am” He says and starts to insert himself inside you, an immediate groan coming out of both your throats, his forehead dropping to the nape of your neck as his fingers dug into your hips, holding himself back to not slam into you at full force. You felt amazing around him, the warmth of your walls made him never want to go away.

“Oh my God” You moan as he slowly goes deeper, his cock throbbing inside you. Once he bottomed out you were breathing heavier than ever, pupils blown and nails teasing at his back. “Dean”

“I’m right here sweetheart” He reassured you and left kisses over your shoulder to distract you. You grinned at his sweetness and rolled your hips against his, a sign that he could move.

“Move, please, I want to feel you” You mumbled and he obliged, instant pleasure going through your body.

“God, Y/N” He moaned close to your ear as he went faster, your moans getting louder.

He smashed his hips against yours, eyeing the way it went in and out, being deliciously consumed by your cunt, glistening with your slick and cum. He stared at you, your fucked out state, the way you were a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him and he felt proud to be the reason you were like this.

You felt every inch ripping your insides, Dean’s hands roaming through your body as his lips left bite marks and kisses around your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and everything just added more to the pleasure when his tongue circled around your nipple.

“You’re so pretty” He groaned after pulling away from your breasts and felt that familiar feeling go through him as your pussy clenched tighter around his cock. He was close and he knew you were too. His hands traveled both down to your lower body, one pressed over the skin under your belly button and the other circled your clit messly.

When he pressed down over your lower belly you felt him impossibly deeper and grabbed at the sheets underneath you to ground yourself to reality.

“Jesus– Fuck Dean, please!” You moaned incoherently as that bubble inside you was about to pop “I’m gonna cum, baby, please” You moaned again and you knew he was close to, his hips stuttering and losing rhythm.

“Cum with me Y/N” He said and not even seconds later you unraveled beneath him, your high hitting you like a bus, a loud moan rippling through your throat and Dean pulled out, cumming over your stomach, his chest heaving with his breaths.

Dean forced himself to get up and get a wet towel to clean you up in the bathroom, coming back and gently wiping away the fluids. You were spent and at the same time as happy as you could ever be.

You adjusted yourself in the bed while you waited for Dean to come back from the bathroom after discarding the towel, his naked shadow visible thanks to the light inside. When he walked out he smiled at you and snuggled beside you, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around your waist.

You were both silent for a while until he spoke up.

“I love you so much” He said “And no, this is not post sex haze, I’ve loved you for so long” He admitted quietly above you and you felt your heart beating ten times faster at his words. You looked up at him and placed a gentle hand over his cheek to make him look down at you.

“I love you too, dumbass” You say with a chuckle and kiss him deeply again, pouring all the love you knew you felt towards him into the kiss.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo.

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