#notmyninth

[threeminutesoflife]

On the Eve of Destruction

Pairings: (dark!)Hades!Bucky x dark!Persephone!Reader Summary: Persephone agrees to marry Hades Warnings: 18+, mentions of minor character deaths, fingering, manhandling, manipulation Word Count: 1.4k Prompt: Not My Ninth Challenge  “Emotions”- M.Carey/ Wedding Reception a/n: Congrats on your well-deserved milestone, sweet girl @cockslut-padalecki​ Thank you for sharing your clever words!❣️🧡

The thing about life and death- it’s one small breath separating one from the other. 

“Call it... off,” the words shook in your mouth like your thighs did between Bucky’s legs. "Forget.. your idea."

Sitting on the edge of his bed with your back glued to his chest, the heavily polished metal disc resting against the wall reflected you and Bucky’s images. 

Naked and wet, you were settled between Bucky’s hard thighs- withering and whimpering under his touch. The feel of his heavy tunic scratched your shoulder blades and his bulge kissed the curve of your ass

He smirked at your failed attempts to make demands. Half-words and crumbled noises fell out of you filling the room instead. For months, he had tried to pull an agreement of marriage from you but his frustrations were growing and his ideas were waning.   

Your toes curled and skidded over the floor with every smooth flick of his wrist against your core. Seeking an anchor, you coiled your leg around his and latched your hands on him for support.

“If I call it off, halt the plan- we’ll need to marry soon,” Bucky’s words scorched your ears, his arm tightening around your waist. 

This time your leg muscles did give out. It wasn’t from the melody he played against your clit but at the thought of tying yourself to another.

“Can’t let a body like this go to anyone else,” Bucky bit his thoughts into the soft skin of your neck.

Grabbing his wrist, you ignored his words and guided his fingers to dip deeper in your slit. The feel of him inside, working you towards the edge, helped you disregard his thoughts about marriage.

“I mean it, darling,” Bucky stilled your movements, his fingers stinging inside you with a twist before cupping your mound. 

He grinned at your surprised gasp, savoring the feel of you rubbing and pushing yourself further back on his clothed erection.  

Bucky’s hand tightened around the collar of your throat, his thumb ghosting over your pulse, “Give in. Say you’re mine.”

“I don’t need a husband,” you panted, rolling your hips around his fingers and rubbing your ass painfully against his dampened tunic. “Only a lover.”

“Get up. Get out,” Bucky ordered abruptly, slapping your sex and releasing his grip. “I’m tired of this.”

“What the hell, Bucky!” Tumbling forward, you steadied yourself on shaky legs and watched him wipe his fingers on the bed cover- something unrecognizable in his expression. “Stop acting like this. Things are fine the way they are.” 

“If you address me in the future, you will use my formal title, Hades.” 

“You can’t be serious-” 

“Friends and lovers call me Bucky. You’re neither.” 

Stifling the urge to argue, you pushed past him and gathered your discarded clothing. Keeping your eyes on the god of the dead, a small seed of fury planted itself within you.

___

Hermes delivered the announcement at 9 am; it was not an invitation, gods only send demands.

He hovered between a set of tall pillars outlining your garden, uneasily shuffling his feet back and forth. 

“I need to watch you read it,” he explained, handing you a scroll adorned with black and gold cording.

“That’s not necessary. I already know,” You retorted crisply, remembering your recent encounter with your former lover and noting his colored cording. “I wanted him to call off the idea after he told me what he planned to do if I wouldn't commit.” 

Turning your back on Hermes, you walked further down the garden’s path, dismissing him and the god of the underworld’s message. But he was quick to follow, staying close while you twisted and turned about in the flowered lanes. 

“I really must insist,” Hermes easily cut in front of you, halting your escape, “that you read it.”

It was an awkward standoff of sorts, him waiting for you to open the scroll and you trying to dissect his actions for his unusual, intrusive behavior. The problem for poor Hermes was everyone wanted to shoot the messenger. 

“And why must you, Hermes?”

“Because.. the plans are official, he set a date.”

Hermes looked away when you hissed at his answer and noticed the array of macabre plants and berries, “I never understood why you harvest these plants if they’re dangerous. Why nurture things that only cause death?”

“Children are nurtured into men, do they not also cause death?" you answered, stroking the leaves of the deadly plants. "We can't have sunshine all the time."

Hermes watched you slowly thumb the poisonous berries and gaze over at the lethal flowers. His eyes narrowed at your words and reluctantly admitted, “I insisted because he wishes to know your reaction when you read the announcement.”

----

The night was quiet, the moon branded its image across the undisturbed water. Artemis sat beside you, turning the scroll over in her hands. The announcement invited villagers to offer a gift worthy to gain the favor of the god of the underworld. And in turn, Hades would select a bride out of the guests.  

“Do you think many will go to him and offer a bid?”

“Not the maidens dear to me,” Artemis’ eyes harden at the thought of betrayal. “The other villages- it’s always been their choice. People know there are risks when putting themselves on the path for a god’s attention. The question, my dear, is are you ready?”

“The field is set.” 

“And which one are we speaking of?” Artemis smiled at your vagueness.

“Both, but yours will bloom- grounds thick and plentiful before next month’s hunt. Mine will wither tonight.”

Squeezing your hand, Artemis studied your features. “Moonlight highlights the darkness in you, my dear. It’s quite becoming, something I shall miss.”

____

You fixed a brooch for one maiden and reset another’s headband before moving to straighten a young man’s hat. Gently dabbing the wine stain off an elderly lady’s chin, you paid extra attention to her paper-thin skin. Lifting a robust man’s head from the table, you tugged off the dinner plate stuck to the side of his face. Frowning at the sight, you wiped the salted fish oils off his cheek and the bread crumbs from his forehead. 

Bucky watched you clean and straighten each guest with wordless, tender movements. Something deceptively endearing for the mass homicide you just committed against his guests. 

The edge of your tunic picked up broken ceramic pieces and dipped into the remaining puddles of the toxic wine you gifted the room; mopping and dropping red streaks and shiny shards with each step. 

Earlier you stood in line with the other guests waiting to be announced. Some held treasures they could carry in one hand, others boasted of containers that were too large or heavy to bring into the hall. 

Rare jewels, unique animals, expensive ingredients, rich materials- the gifts were vast. The attendants all hoped to gain the underworld’s god favor and have a family member win a seat next to him on the throne. Drenched in confidence, each person believed they possessed the singular offering that would make them worthy to marry a god by the end of the night. 

Chaos broke out shortly after the main dish was served. Guests already drinking their fill and dunking bread into the lethal wine.

It started with a faint cough in the distance as you cut into another loaf. There was a cry for help across the room when you bit into an olive. Chairs turned over, tableclothes ripped to the ground, bodies slumped as you cut into the meat. 

Needs more seasoning, you thought. 

By the time you cleaned your plate and were ready for dessert, the room wheezed out its last breath of life. The servants had long since run away.  

Leaning forward in his chair, Bucky unfolded his arms and pressed his lips into a thin, grim line while watching his guests’ lives disintegrate in the dark hall.

The once boisterous room was eerily still, neither of you willing to speak until he finally broke the silence, “I do not declare winners by default, Persephone. Explain yourself.”

“My gift to you, Hades, is simple. I bring you more loyal subjects for you to rule over in your kingdom, god of the dead.”

Bucky watched you coolly with masked pride, internally smirking at how well you delivered yourself to him. He had watched over the dead long enough to know all the murky and vile reasons why someone kills- and jealousy was one. 

#dark!bucky x reader #notmyninth #hades!bucky x persephone!reader #dark!reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x dark!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x dark!reader #hades!bucky x reader #persephone!reader #hades!bucky #bucky barnes x you #dark!marvel #hades x persephone #bucky barnes x reader #hades x persephone fanfic #soft!dark bucky #soft!dark bucky x reader #mythology au #greek mythology au #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky #soft dark bucky #persephone au #hades au #hades persephone au

[the-iceni-bitch]

No Scrubs

Well a scrub checkin' me, but his game is kinda weak

And I know that he cannot approach me

'Cause I'm looking like class and he's looking like trash

Can't get wit' a deadbeat ass

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: You try to keep Steve from dying of boredom at an Avengers charity gala.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, public sex), little bit of a fight, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!

A/N: My official entry for @cockslut-padalecki’s “Not My Ninth” challenge!! My prompt was No Scrubs by TLC and Charity Gala. I picked our boy Steve for this one, but like post Avengers pre Winter Soldier Steve. Also, is Thor the best wingman? I feel like I’ve been using him in this role a lot. Happy 9K babe!

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Steve had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

He hated talking about himself normally, and having to parade around in front of a bunch of rich people was a special kind of torture. But Tony was insistent that the whole team had to be there, and it was for a good cause so he couldn’t say no without being a complete asshole.

He downed the rest of his champagne as some other billionaire asked him the same damn question about how different things were for him now, how much he must miss the 40s, like the war was some golden age of Americana. He just smiled and gave the same polite answers he’d been giving all night, wishing he was able to get drunk. Maybe Thor had snuck in some mead, that could usually do the trick.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers, but Mr. Stark sent me to come find you. Something about the silent auction.”

Steve felt his face relax as he turned to look at you, his breath coming out in a deep sigh. You looked amazing in your silver gown, all shimmery and gauzy.

“Sorry folks, duty calls.” He said with a shrug as he followed you away from the stuffed suits. “What does Tony want? I don’t have anything to do with the auction.”

“Yeah, I know, but your jaw was clenched so hard I was worried you were gonna snap something, so I figured I’d come rescue you.” You said, grinning over your shoulder at him.

“God, you’re the best.” He sighed, following you to the bar and leaning against it as you ordered yourself a cocktail.

“I know, right? You want anything?”

“Not unless Thor snuck anything in. It’s only been an hour and I’m this close to ramming my head through a wall.”

“Sorry Cap, I hate these things too but it comes with the territory.” You said with a shrug, sipping on your Manhattan as you turned to face him. “Now, lets go find our Asgardian friend. As your handler, I can’t have you destroying property out of boredom, and I’m pretty sure I saw that giant sipping from a contraband flask a little earlier.”

He grinned as he moved to follow you, weaving through the crowd as you expertly turned away the whales that kept trying to approach him. You were his fifth handler since the battle of New York, and the only one that had lasted longer than a week. Mostly because you didn’t actually try to handle him, just let him be Steve and deal with any PR fallout that came with that. It helped that you had an easygoing nature that he found endearing, and you could always make him laugh. The fight you’d gotten into with Tony about changing his suit had really done it for him though, he hadn’t seen anyone make Stark back down so fast.

“Odinson!” You shouted, beaming once you found the massive blonde. He’d been cornered by a group of old blue hairs who were tittering and trying to touch his biceps. “Sorry ladies, the god of thunder is needed elsewhere, auction business.”

They all made sounds of disappointment as you extracted the relieved looking god from the group of old biddies, pulling him away towards one of the empty corners of the ballroom.

“What is this auction you speak of?” Thor asked once the three of you were separated from the crowd.

“A clever ruse, my good friend.” You said with a smirk. “You’re welcome by the way. The Captain here is on the verge of committing violent acts out of boredom, and expressed a desire to get drunk.”

“Yes, thank you Y/N.” He said with a grin. “I don’t think I can help the Captain with his problem though, maybe he should head to the bar.”

“Oh, you can’t help?” You said cocking your eyebrow at him before shoving your hand inside his tux jacket and pulling out a silver flask. “What’s this then?”

Steve chuckled as Thor tried to stammer out a reply as you just shook your head and tutted at him, handing Steve the flask.

“Listen, just be a good boy and share. Now, I need to go to the ladies room but if any of these rich assholes tries to come bother you again, just start talking about the horrors of war, and get graphic. They hate that shit.”

Steve handed Thor back the flask after taking a sip, already staring to feel a bit of a tingle in his fingers.

“That woman is not to be trifled with.” Thor said appreciatively as he took a swig, handing it back to Steve. “Have you slept with her yet?”

Steve choked on the mead, his eyes bugging out of his head as he tried to cough up a lung and Thor clapped him on the back, scolding him for wasting good liquor.

“Jesus, Thor! What are you talking about? I don’t want to sleep with Y/N!”

“Oh my god, you midgardians and your hang ups. Your hormones spike every time your around her, it’s very distracting.”

“What?!?! How do you know that?” Steve loosened his tie a bit as he felt himself starting to warm up, telling himself it was just from the booze.

“I’m not just the god of thunder, I’m a fertility god.” He said with a grin. “And every time you two are near each other, it’s like being around a couple of rabbits in the spring.”

“Oh god, please stop.” Steve said as he ran his hand over his face in embarrassment.

“No you stop. We’re in a hotel, just get a room and , what’s the phrase I’m looking for ‘fuck her brains out’.”

“Jesus Christ, who taught you that? Never mind, I know it was Tony.” He said, waving a dismissive hand at Thor as he gave him a wicked grin.

“Oh no.” Thor said suddenly, looking over Steve’s shoulder towards the ballroom.

“What now?” Steve said with a heavy sigh, turning to follow his line of sight to where you were standing, talking to an unsteady looking man in a sloppy tux. “Rumlow.”

“Yes, apparently your STRIKE team leader has been sniffing after your handler for months.” Thor narrated, leaning against one of the columns and taking another pull from the flask. “She’s always rebuffed him, though. I don’t think he’s ever tried when he’s drunk before. Wait, Rogers!”

Steve ignored him as he strode towards you, growling under his breath and loosening his tie even more as he watched Rumlow wrap his hand around your bicep and yank you towards him. Steve was close enough to see you roll your eyes, but couldn’t hear what you said to the man as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and smashed his mouth against yours.

“Hey!” Steve shouted, his brow furrowed as Brock pulled his face away from yours to see what the interruption was about.

You took your chance and head butted him, a curse leaving his mouth in a hiss as he released you. You gripped his left wrist around his thumb and drew it back hard, smirking when you felt a snap at the same time you drove you fist into his ribs.

Steve had to pull you off him as you started beating him with your clutch, opening it up at the same time to search for your brass knuckles.

“You don’t fucking touch me, you goddamn sloppy deadbeat motherfucker!” You screamed as Steve carried you away from the main floor, your limbs flailing as you tried to charge back at Rumlow. “Learn to tie a fucking tie you cocksucking son of a bitch.”

Steve did his best not to crack up at the shocked looks the blue bloods were giving you, a chorus of offended gasps following the two of you as you released a steady stream of profanity. He pushed open the doors to the balcony with one hand as he kept his other hand wrapped tightly around your waist as you were still trying to squirm free.

“Damn it, put me down Rogers! I’ll kick your ass too!” You hissed, turning to swat at his chest.

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ!” He said as you started to kick him, catching him in the shins a couple of times. “Ow.”

“You’re fine.” You said with a shrug, taking a couple deep breaths to calm down.

“Yeah, well Rumlow definitely isn’t. Who gave you brass knuckles?” He said, pulling the weapon out of your clutch.

“Nat did. And it’s not like I even got to use them on that asshole.”

“Yeah but you would’ve.” He said, shaking his head as he handed them back to you. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

You just snorted as you shoved the knuckles back into your clutch, leaning your back against the railing.

“Good.” He mumbled, suddenly not knowing what to say to you.

You somehow looked even better after your altercation. Your hair was a wild tangle now, loose strands blowing in the breeze. Your lips were swollen from the unwanted kiss, and Steve could feel the heat coming off you as your chest heaved with deep breaths. He hissed through his teeth when he noticed the torn skin on your knuckles.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re bleeding.” He growled, grabbing your hand to inspect the damage.

“Huh, guess so.” You said, watching him through your lashes as he brought your hand closer to his face.

You felt your breath hitch as he ran his thumb over the back of your hand softly, his brow still furrowed with worry. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the fight, but all you could think about just then was sucking on his thick fingers.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You must have zoned out for a second.

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I’m great.” You said, your voice a little squeakier than you would’ve liked.

He took a step closer to you and you gasped, suddenly feeling very light headed as you felt a rush of slick flood your panties. His hand left yours and moved to cup your cheek, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip where you had it pressed between your teeth.

“I think I’m gonna kiss you now.” He muttered, his eyes boring into yours, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Good.” You whispered.

His mouth devoured yours, his teeth pulling your lips open so he could slip his tongue inside, curling it against yours as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed you against him. You moaned as you felt his cock hardening against your abdomen, your pussy throbbing with need as he ground himself into you.

He started to sink to his knees and you followed him, your mouth still pressed to his desperately. His hand moved from your waist to dig under your skirt and he let out a growl when he brushed his fingers against your core, pressing them against the soaked silk of your panties.

“Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad.” He grumbled, his lips still pressed to yours. “Wanna see if you taste as good as you smell.”

“Oh god, Steve.” You moaned as he hooked his fingers through the side of your panties and ripped them off you, the elastic snapping against your skin and a shove going up your spine as the night air cooled the wetness between your thighs. “Do it.”

He grinned and gave you a quick peck on the lips before he started to move his mouth down your throat. His hand between your legs started rubbing you in big slow circles as he laid you down, putting just enough pressure on you that you were quickly turning into a wriggling mess.

“Hold still, honey.” He ordered, pulling the sleeves of your dress down just enough that your breasts could pop out, your nipples pebbling in the chilly air. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

“Fuck.” You moaned as he dragged his tongue over your nipple in a heavy stripe before flicking it softly. Your hands dug in his hair as he sucked and licked at it, just barely brushing it with his teeth until it was raised to an overly sensitive peak before he moved to the other nipple and repeated the process, making you whine.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he pressed a soft kiss to each breast before moving his face between your legs. His hand was making soft wet sounds now as he kept rubbing your sex, and he groaned when he removed it to take a good look at you.

“Fuck if that ain’t the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He murmured as his lips brushed over your inner thigh.

Your cunt was pulsing with need under his gaze, your plump folds swollen and flushed with heat as he watched you clench around nothing. Everything between your legs was coated in a thick layer of your arousal, and he bit his lip as he watched even more leak out of you.

“I bet I could make you cum with almost nothing, sweetheart.” He teased as he nipped at the soft skin of your inner thighs, inching closer to your pussy before moving away again.

“Steve, please!” You whined, trying to arch your back into his face as you tugged on his hair.

He just grinned before pressing his tongue over your pussy and swirling it through your folds. He had to press his palms down on your hips to keep your body from curling back on itself as he ran his tongue over your sex, lapping at your pussy like his was the first meal he’d had in weeks.

“God you taste so good.” He murmured as he gazed at you through his lashes. “Like fucking peaches.”

You sobbed as he thrust his tongue inside you at the same time his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, making you come immediately. He curled his tongue inside you as your release flowed into his mouth, moaning into your pussy as you spasmed against his face.

Your breath was coming in ragged gasps as you came down, your muscles still twitching randomly as aftershocks shook through your abdomen. He grinned as he sat up over you, undoing his tie before moving to take off his belt as you writhed underneath his gaze. Your brain finally reset and you sat up between Steve’s legs, nuzzling yourself into his neck as you worked to unbutton his shirt.

“You back, honey?” He chuckled as you ran your teeth over his collarbone, dipping your hands under his shirt to press against his chest. “I was a little worried.”

“You’ll find I’m extremely resilient, Steve.” You murmured before sinking your teeth into his pec as you started to undo his fly.

“Shit, good to know.” He groaned as you drew his cock out of his pants and gave it a squeeze.

He gripped your chin and drew your face up to his, raising you up to your knees as he gave you a soft kiss. You moved his cock in your hand to line him up with your entrance, teasing his tip against your folds. Steve wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you a bit higher before slowly drawing you down onto his length.

You let out a thin keen as he stretched you open, relishing the sting as your cunt fluttered around him, adjusting to his girth. He rested his forehead against yours as he started moving his hips at a languorous pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He muttered against your lips before moving to bury his face in your shoulder. “So tight and warm and soft.”

You gripped the hair at the base of his neck tightly as his hips started moving faster, slapping against yours. You felt yourself clench around him as he ground against your clit, making you gasp.

“Shit, Steve! Right there!”

“Jesus, already?” He murmured, running his lips over your throat.

“Just... fuck, you’re so big, Steve. Oh my god, I’m cumming.”

He hooked a hand under your ass to keep you from collapsing as your entire body arched violently, almost bending backwards on itself as you swallowed a scream. Your cunt fluttered and spasmed around him as he lifted you to wrap around him, his breath hot against your neck.

“Holy shit honey.” He muttered as he pulled you down against him, making you whimper. “You ok?”

“I’m great. Don’t you fucking stop.” You said, tilting his head back so you could press your mouth to his.

He grinned against your lips as he fucked his hips up into you, keeping his eyes locked on yours as his cock dragged over every inch of you, nudging against your cervix and making your breath hitch.

“Right there?” He asked as you dug your nails into his scalp and bit at his lips.

“Fuck, oh goddamn it, Steve.”

You shrieked into his mouth as you came apart, your muscles seizing as your pussy strangled his cock. His hips stuttered and you were suddenly flooded with warmth, his spend sitting into you and coating your canal in thick white ropes. He sat back on his heels and pulled out of you, and you shuddered as your release squirted all over the front of his pants.

“Shit, did you just squirt honey?” He asked, giving you an appreciative glance as he started to tuck himself back in and button his shirt up.

“I think so. Fuck, that’s never happened before.” You said with a shrug.

“Well, damn baby.” He said as he stood up, offering you a hand to help you to your feet.

“Shit, we’ve gotta go back in there.” You said, running your hand over your face. “Oh my god, Stark is going to kill us. Hold on and give me a second to think.”

Steve just leaned back on the railing and gave a satisfied smile as he watched you pace back and forth, wringing your hands.

“Ok I think I’ve got it, just one second.”

You went to the door and opened it a crack, popping your head through, jumping when you found Thor leaning against the wall right there.

“Hey, Thor. What’s up buddy?”

“Just keeping the other guests from wandering out and seeing you and the Captain humping like rabbits.”

“Appreciate it. We need a distraction though, cuz we’re both a little messy, and I don’t really feel like explaining that to everyone.”

“Got it, what if I blow out the lights in that chandelier?”

“I think that’ll probably work.” You said, giving him a nod before turning back to Steve. “Alright Rogers, we’re making a run for the elevator. Thor, blow it.”

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#natalie writes #notmyninth #fanfic #fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america smut #chris evans fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #smut #eighteen and over #eighteen plus #minors do not interact

[avintagekiss24]

day with destiny | b. barnes

→ pairing: aristocrat!bucky barnes x aristocrat!black!reader

→ word count: 3000

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, biting kink

→ challenge: @cockslut-padalecki​ not my ninth

trope: aristocratic society

song prompt: crush by jennifer paige

→ square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ 2021

g5: clothed sex

→ author note: i was finally able to reign myself in with these word counts, lol. i saw this gif of baby faced sebastian and couldn’t help myself. he looks like a little shit, but look at those pink lips… anyway, these are modern!aristocrats. lyrics to crush aren’t obvious (except for one line at the very end), but worked into the dialogue. i have no idea who made the gif, i got it from google. i also have no idea who made this divider, as i also got it from the google.

Blue eyes peer over at you from across the table, the gaze searing into the side of your face. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, but you don’t dare cut your eyes— this game is entirely too fun to give in now. Instead, you take a deep breath, pushing your chest out— your tits— shifting roughly in your seat just to make your flesh jiggle, before you release the air slowly.

Cabinet meetings are never fun. Rich, old white men going on and on about their views for the country— your family of course bringing the only sense of color into the society. Some old man yammers on at the front of the room behind the podium. Heads nod, claps ring out at random intervals, loud here here’s filling your ears as you roll your eyes. You don’t have the least bit of interest in any of it as it stands today, but your blue blood, and rank in the family— poised to take over for your dear old daddy in the coming years— requires your presence.

Bucky Barnes is quite the same. Young, bored, and too damn pretty for his own fucking good. You squeeze your legs together abruptly, the images of the last cabinet meeting playing back in your mind. Hot, sticky breath. Reddened, swollen lips— against your ear, sucking on your skin. The salt that exploded on your tongue as he shoved his thumb into your mouth.

You stand quick, clearing your throat— sending a silent message to the youngest Barnes at the long table. A hand grabs your wrist, stopping you as you start to move towards the back of the room, “Mother?”

“This is important, daughter,” she whispers harsh— a warning.

“And so is my bladder, mother.”

She sighs heavily, but releases the grip around your wrist, “Yours and the Barnes boy, apparently.”

Flicking your eyes quickly, you smirk as he pushes his chair underneath the table and starts towards the large doors at the back of the room, rubbing at his chin with his hand, the sunlight glinting off of the rings adorning his long fingers. You watch him as he moves— so easy, so confident— as he runs his hand through his dark, perfectly clipped hair, the Loubotins on his feet clicking softly.

You only drop your eyes when he slips through the door and out of view, “Ten minutes, mother.”

She knows. She knows that you know she knows, but she just sighs again and lets you saunter off without a second glance. Dress dragging behind you, bottom lip sucked between your teeth, heart and blood starting to race as each step draws you closer to your silver tongued foe, lying in wait for you in a random, deserted hallway.

He’s leaned against the wall, gazing out over the city beneath, hands drawn into his pockets. He’s a sight, but he always is, each little brown hair in place, chin and cheeks so clean shaven that a hair wouldn’t even dare sprout. Body lean in that black military jacket, gold medals and hand stitched ribbons hanging from the pockets.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you smile soft, crossing your arms over your chest, leaning against the very same wall.

Bucky glances over his shoulder, that shit grin he’s such a proud owner of spreading on his face, “Then stop propositioning me.”

You laugh— it’s gentle and soft, the dissonance of your long relationship easily melting away. He finally turns and takes a few steps towards you, extending his hand, tenderly taking your fingers. Those deep, emotional eyes stay on yours as he lifts your hand, lips brushing— glancing ever so lightly over the backs of your delicate, manicured digits. Then he smiles, slow, sweet, teeth sinking into his blushed bottom lip as he blinks just as slow.

He’s a sight, this Bucky Barnes.

Keenly aware of his family’s teetering reputation, hanging on by a mere thread as of late due to his fathers extra curricular proclivities, you can’t help but take a swipe, “I’m surprised you’re family’s allowed back in the building. It got a little tense last time you all were here.”

“It did, didn’t it?” he answers quickly, placing your hand on his shoulder before he pulls you in close— a long arm wrapping your waist, pinning you to him, “I don’t remember much though, as my face was buried in your cunt for most of the meeting.”

Shivers race the length of your spine. He feels it— revels in it— savors it.

Lively brown eyes bounce back and forth between heavy, brewing blues, “You aren’t afraid that the rest of them will move to vote your family out, Lord Barnes?”

“Not in the slightest,” you’re met with a defiant shrug, “I hate this shit.”

“Oh, how original! An aristocrat that hates the god given privilege bestowed upon him.” You sigh, tilting your head towards the ceiling as he nuzzles into your neck, your hands sliding up and over his shoulders, “You’re predictable, Barnes.”

“You’re one to talk about privilege, My Lady.”

“Am I?” You retort quick, quirking an eyebrow.

A brilliant smile is cast upon you, blue irises like gems, sparkling under the light, “Your blood is the richest in the room— the bluest of blue— and you speak with such animosity of mine as if you haven’t prevailed your entire life because of it.”

“Bested by the color of our skin, which has precluded my lineage of its rightful place for years,” you scoff, leaning into him, “It was not privilege that got us here, Lord Barnes,” you whisper, “It was persistence.”

He chuckles against your skin, the vibrations rattling through your body, right to your bones. Hot velvet slips along the curve of the junction between your shoulder and neck before teeth scrape and then sink— tenderly— right into the meat, making you gasp. Hands grip, fingers dig into his opposite shoulder as he nips and nibbles.

“You’ll lose everything,” you breathe, heavy, languid as his mouth, his tongue, his lips move to your jaw, your chin, “Your family will be ruined.”

“I’ll be okay,” Bucky hums low, a smile on his face, dark eyelashes splashed over his pink tinged cheeks. His long fingers play with your lips, prodding gently as he rests his forehead to yours, “With a face like mine baby,” he whispers, that devilish smile painting his red tinted lips, “I was born to marry rich.”

He pushes his leg between yours, spreading them, pushing the meat of his thigh right against your sex— the thin silk of your panties sticking to the balmy, wet flesh. The tips of his fingers flirting with the inside of your calf before pushing up over your knee, skirting up your own ticklish thigh.

Bucky takes pleasure in the honeyed giggle that bubbles in your chest and slips out of your mouth, knowing not just anyone can coax such a genuine reaction from you. Metal fingers push higher— sweeping softly, back and forth, over the powder pink silk panties, discovering the warm wet spot, a white hot fire filling his eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

You grunt some, leaning in, putting full lips right against his ear, “Absolutely not,” the words whispered.

“You sure?” he squints, drawing your face back in front of his, thumbing at your bottom lip, pulling it open, “There’s something in those eyes.”

“Let’s not over analyze, Lord Barnes,” you tisk, slipping a hand between your bodies, cupping his cock— squeezing his heat— with care of course, “Don’t go too deep with it. It’s just—”

“What?” brisk, curt— the words cut off by a feverish, deep kiss. Tongue licking into your mouth, sweeping against the roof— heavy, hot, rushed, desperate for you as he groans, “What is it?”

You pull at his belt, at the button and zipper, hand and fingers sinking into his open pants, pushing through a rough, dark, tuft of wiry hair. He whirrs, strained and broken, body clenching up as your warm palm wraps around him. Long, slow strokes pull more tiny sounds from him— a skilled muscle memory, what he likes, what he doesn’t, what he needs— taking over.

A sweet kiss, soft and quick, is pressed against his cheek, your lips against his ear once more, “It’s just a little crush, Bucky. Just some little thing that raises my adrenaline when I need a shot.” His cock jumps in your hand, a quick hiss and stunted grunt filling your ears as you lick your lips, “Don’t make too much of it.”

Bucky grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks hard, puckering your lips before he kisses you feverishly again. The cool metal digits grab your neck, a soft pressure constricting the muscles as he pushes you back, back against the window— using his body to crush you to it.

The smack of his lips disconnecting from yours ricochets off the walls, filling the small hallway. He licks your lips, dragging his tongue from your chin right to the tip of your nose as he anchors your leg on his hip. Hot flesh fingers slip up your thigh, pulling your panties to the side, the cool air sending a shock to the wet, delicate flesh of you. He sucks that bottom lip back between his perfect teeth, tilting his head back slightly to peer at you through those long, dark eyelashes.

You mimic him. Tilt your head back on the glass, sink your teeth into your swollen lip, hand still stroking him slow, wetting the pads of your fingers with his silk. His hips rock soft into your palm as you sweep your fingers over his tip before dragging back down his length, gripping him firm. With a quick blink, you’re staring at him— angry, thick, throbbing in your hand. A bead bubbles out, spills right over, a long string hanging from his reddened tip before his cock twitches again— leaving you breathless. Knees almost buckling. Mouth going dry as your lungs struggle to fill.

“Come on, baby,” Bucky purrs, goading you as you push his cock through your folds, rolling your hips, teasing your waiting slit with his tip.

Surprise sweeps through you when frankly, it shouldn’t as you sink down on him. The muscle memory of your hands don’t translate to the muscles of your cunt— his size, how much you have to spread to accommodate him, like a revelation each and every time. Bucky almost never rushes it, and neither do you, like it’s something new every time.

But it isn’t, no no, it’s ancient for the two of you. Connecting like this in long, skinny hallways, cramped closets, old hotel rooms under the mask of darkness. The muffled sounds of your sex as you try and ultimately fail to keep quiet, filling the abandoned spaces— bringing life to them again.

Loneliness often fills your chest if you go too long without it.

Bucky is buried to the hilt in you now— rooted deep in the tightest, hottest space of your body. He takes a minute, pushing his hips, wiggling— adjusting— before he pulls out slow. All the way, cock bouncing as soon as it breaks the threshold. He doesn’t wait long though. Nope. He’s back inside of you within seconds with a slam of his hips, pushing you up the window. Pulling a squeak and a rush of air from you.

Those red lips of his part, his heavy tongue pushing out to slip along his bottom lip as his eyelids drop, covering the blue you’ve come to enjoy. You can’t help but reach out, place your warm palms and fingers on his blushed cheeks, tracing his nose before they prod at his bottom lip, the tips just sinking into that wet mouth. He draws long breaths, exhales them all over your face as he starts to move.

You let the rhythm carry you away. Up into the clouds as your head rolls to the side, hands fall to his chest and around his neck. Tits bounce with each shove, starting to spill over and fall out of the square shaped neckline of your intricate dress. Hair starts to fall out of place, heat rises in your cheeks, desperate little wet noises beseeching him.

Bucky’s a good fuck. Ever the playboy, never thinking twice of an encounter until— well, you, as he so softly put it one night in one of those dark, old hotel rooms while you both dressed. There’s a filth to it. The way he toys with you. Speeding up suddenly— skin slapping, echoing down the hall— and then, without warning or hesitation, slows down. Down to nothing almost. Soft pulses of his hips, just enough to drive you mad. To make you beg him for more.

To make you weak. To keep you coming back.

That’s how he is now. Barely moving, wanting you to squirm. Two big eyes, pupils blown stare up at you. Mouth agape, the smallest little curve on them. He wants you to beg. To tell him just how much— “Bucky,”

“Yes?” he shoves hard, pushing deep, “My Lady?”

“Please,” there it is, the beg— the want, “Please, Bucky.”

So, the filth is back. Yeah, it’s a little dirty how he grips your thigh, hard, nails digging and scratching into the meat of it. How he licks into your mouth and bites your lips before shoving that metal hand into your neckline, palming the delicate mound of flesh beneath. A brown nipple is soon exposed, tight and hard, after a quick tug of his hand yanks your dress down. It disappears again within a flash, right into his mouth, tongue circling.

An arch curves your spine when he sucks, a deep, low, stressed grunt sounding from somewhere deep in your chest. Your lips pucker, forming an o as you breathe heavy, then gasp quick before digging your teeth into your bottom lip and inhaling sharp. An already tight grip on his bicep and left shoulder constricts even more as he really picks up the pace, desperate and feverish his hips, tongue slipping into your cleavage.

There’s nothing but sounds and sensations— the squelch and squeak of his cock stuffing you, your stiletto slipping off the foot that’s hooked around his waist and thudding against the floor. The gold medals pinned to his military jacket bouncing soft against the thick material. His metal fingers tapping against the windows as he holds his weight.

Flashes of heat ripple through your body— muscles tensing and straining, cunt clenching, clamping. Fists balling. Stomach and head twirling as he gives you his best. And God, do you appreciate his effort.

The fuse proves to be short on this crisp winter day. A coil that had no chance of staying intact snaps earlier than you expect, body tightening hard, nearly freezing you in place the second before you start to come. Crying out— no shame, no sense of care if anyone hears— you just let it take over. Let him drive it home, hips snapping against yours, jutting, thrusting, pushing and pulling, sending you higher and higher.

Goosebumps on your skin. Heartbeat in your ears. A white hot flash, nearly blinding— it’s just that good. Metal fingers sink between your legs, playing with your clit, enticing it further as it spasms— wanting to feel every last bit of what your body has to offer.

Bucky hammers away, until he can’t. You’re just too sweet— too warm and wet and inviting. He’s painting your insides white within minutes, hot, quick shots of silk, filling you up, and then spilling back out. His head falls heavy to your chest as the last digs of his hips work themselves out, lips sticking to your damp, exposed skin.

You wrap him up, hands and fingers splaying out on his back, holding him tight and close as he empties and stills. Then, the two of you just breathe. Let the day, the room full of people, your families, your duties, just fade away. It’s just you and Bucky and that cool window against your overly warm skin.

It breaks— the moment. Just as it always does. Your body becomes empty as he tucks back into his pants. No longer pinned to the window, you bend to replace your shoe, pull at your dress. Bucky runs his thick fingers through his dark hair, you picking and smoothing at your own.

Stepping off after a few sobering moments without so much as a look or a smile, you're caught, a tight hand around your wrist, pulling you back. You crash into his chest, crash against his lips in one last, deep, sweeping kiss. One that once he pulls away, your eyes stay closed, lips stay puckered.

“You sure you won’t marry me?”

You know that if he asks one more time, your resolve will fizzle— and you will, “Very sure.”

A lopsided grin covers his mouth as he tilts his head, “Just a pesky little crush, huh?”

“There’s no vision of you and me quite yet, Lord Barnes,” you sigh, turning away and stepping  down the hall, “You just pray that I don’t decide to join the rest of the party and vote you out.”

“Make sure you keep a copy of your vote for me. I’ll want to frame it.”

You throw him a quick glance, “And why would you do something like that?”

“So I can show our children just how mean mommy was to daddy before we got married,” he starts, buttoning up his jacket. He kisses the pads of his fingers and blows on them lightly, sending you a kiss, “I have white picket fences in my eyes.”

Without another word, he spins on his heel and takes off in the opposite direction. A hum vibrates in your throat. The sounds of your heels and his shoes slap against the walls as the two of you walk away from each other.

It doesn’t take a scientist to understand what’s going on, baby.

#notmyninth #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes x you #reader x bucky barnes #you x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black reader #you x bucky #bucky x you #bucky reader #reader x bucky #avintagekiss24

[hoboal87]

Don’t Speak

Title: Don’t Speak.

Pairing: au!dark!Dean x virgin!Reader x au!dark!Sam, Dean x Sam 

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Y/N wakes up in an unfamiliar room with a stranger, little does she know that he has plans for her.

Warnings: *Rape/Non-Con, dark!Dean, dark!Sam, virgin!reader, angst (i think this goes with out saying), Wincest, forced orgasms, non-con bondage, eduardian era (but the boys are still american), implied arranged marriages, implied breeding kink, implied age gap, humiliation (not the fun kind), minor knife play

A/N 1: This is my entry for @cockslut-padalecki‘s #NotMyNinth Challenge. My prompt is “Masquerade” and “Don’t Speak”

A/N 2: I’ve never written non-con, or a dark!fic before, but this was the first thing that came into mind. This fic is for 18+ only! 

*TW: Rape/Non-Con - Please, I beg you, do not read if this is something that will trigger and/or offend you. 

No Beta all mistakes are mine. (I have tense issues, I know)

Spring, 1905

There’s a haze surrounding your vision as you come to, unsure of where you are or how you got there. Your head throbs, you must’ve had too much champagne, though you don’t remember having more than a second glass. Your mother and father will be furious, you’re a young lady eligible for marriage, and the night was meant for you to find a suitable prospect.

As your vision clears you try to become more aware of your surroundings. A chill runs through your body, and you realize that you’ve been stripped down to nothing more than your undergarments, and silk sheets lie underneath you. You try to sit up, and with a cursory glance, you can see attached to posts of the bed, are long leather straps, which, to your horror, are connected to your wrists.

You struggle, using the little give that the straps have to offer to try and get yourself free. You start to panic, breathing heavier as you flail your arms and legs in an attempt to free yourself from the unwanted bonds. A low chuckling comes from somewhere else in the room, wherever you are, it’s clear to you now that you’re not alone. Your heart races faster as you tug at the straps again, hoping in vain, something will give and you can leave this place.

You twist your arms as far as you can stopping as soon as the pain becomes too much to bear. You grunt and groan, maybe if you make enough noise, someone will find you and get you back to your parents, and you can leave with some of your virtue intact. In the midst of everything, you can hear a second, distinct voice. There’s something vaguely familiar about the two voices, but you can’t place either of them, you’d been introduced to well over fifty men since you presented in court just six months ago.

“Please,” you whimper, “I don’t know who you are. Please let me go.”

The two muffled voices stop for a moment, and the shuffling of feet make their way towards you. The mask that you begged your father for still rests on your face, you curse yourself for demanding such an opulent thing, these men must think your family is well off, and that they can ransom your parents. The truth is, your family is relying on you to make a good match to a wealthy family, so that their debts may be paid off.

A large, calloused hand grazes your calf, while another, even larger hand mimics the actions, caressing your legs all the way up to what little underclothes you still have on. You jerk against their touches, unable to do anything else. The man to the left brandishes a blade, and your breath hitches in horror at the realization that he’s most likely going to kill you. Your father had recently told you of multiple unsolved murders in London, all young women, their insides mutilated. If these are the same men, you have no chance of escaping, all you can do is hope that if that is their plan, they'll have mercy and give you a quick death.

Tears flood your eyes as the man with the knife drags the sharp edge against your wrist. Momentary relief fills you, as you naively believe that he will free you of your bonds, he tuts at you, before moving the blade up your arm. It scrapes your skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make your heart thump faster in your chest. It becomes painfully obvious that whatever the two men have in store for you, they don’t plan on giving you any sense of relief. Dread fills you, and you look up at the man, hoping that maybe if he sees the trepidation in your eyes he’ll show you some kind of compassion. A plain mask obscures most of his face, and all you can make out are fiercely green eyes.

“Please,” you choke out, “I just want to get back to my parents.”

Green-eyes smirks, and leans down to grab you by the chin, forcing you to look at him as he brings the blade only inches away from your face. The second man’s hand hovers over your still covered pussy, and he grunts at green-eyes, who hands over the blade. The second man is impossibly tall, with long chestnut locks framing his covered face. A wift of cool air breezes against your now exposed pussy, and he runs the blade against your stomach, before handing it back to the man on your left. He brings the blade close to your face, but you can’t see where it is thanks to the mask still resting against you. You close your eyes as you hear a rip, and when you open them, you find that your mask is gone, and both men have discarded theirs as well. Americans, you remember meeting them only a few weeks ago. The Queen had, for some reason, allowed them to come to court, which before was unheard of, but no one dared to question Her Royal Highness.

Winchester. That was their name. The other ladies of the court were fawning all the brothers, they could have anyone they wanted, so why were you tied up like some animal?

“Sirs, please,” you sob, unable to hold your tears back any longer. “ I won’t say anything to anyone. My family– we have no money. There is nothing I can give you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean slides the knife against your cheek. “We don’t want any money, your Queen has already paid us handsomely for our services.”

Your stomach drops as you realize what they want, and they’re going to take it whether you want them to or not. You flail against your bonds, trying and failing over and over again to free yourself. You only stop moving when Dean brings the blade against your cheek, pressing firmly enough that you can feel a trickle of blood roll down amongst your tears.

“I’d hate to scar up this pretty face,” Dean tsks, “but don’t think I won’t. You don’t need a perfect complexion for what we have in store for you, does she Sammy?”

Sam grunts in agreement, and you cry out for your mother and father.

“Hush, hush, darling,” Dean tuts, covering your mouth with his giant hand. There seems to be a sincerity in his voice, but it is gone before you can even process his words. “I know what you’re thinkin’,” Your eyes widen as you turn to face Sam, he’s already half-naked, and there’s a noticeable bulge in his trousers. “And sweetheart, you can’t imagine.”

“Please, don’t!”

“Maybe, if you’re a good girl, I’ll let Sammy warm you up before he sticks his cock in you,” Dean says as Sam palms himself, and you turn your attention back to the older brother. Dean fiddles with the knife, as if he feels the need to remind you that you are completely at his and Sam’s mercy.

“What’s going to be, Y/N?” Dean asks as he removes his shirt, and the bed dips as Sam climbs in the forced space between your legs. “Sammy has no problem going in there dry, do ya Sammy?”

“Wanna taste her,” Sam grumbles, but doesn’t move from his spot between your legs. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him speak, and it sends chills down your spine.

Sam’s eyes are filled with hunger as he stares down at your virgin pussy. He licks his lips, and slowly strokes his now-free cock.

“Have you ever let someone taste you, Y/N?” Dean rids himself of the rest of his clothes, and you gasp at the size of his cock. You’d never seen one this close before, you had, in fact, never seen one at all, outside of a textbook drawing.

Dean sets the blade down, and nuzzles against your neck, sucking marks onto you, before moving up and placing almost sweet kisses against your mouth and jaw. Warmth pools in your belly against your will, and you hate your body for betraying you, becoming more aroused as Sam and Dean continue touching you.

“She’s gushing, De,” Sam chortles and heat fills your cheeks. You don’t want this, you don’t want to lose your virginity to anyone other than your future husband. “Lemme taste her,” Sam runs a finger through your folds, slightly brushing over your clit.

“Is that what you want, baby?” Dean's mouth leaves your neck, and for a moment you think he’s talking to you, but then, he turns around to face his brother and presses his lips against Sam’s. Dean’s hand runs over Sam’s taught body, replacing Sam’s hand with his own around his cock. You’re shocked at the sight before you, you’d never seen two men kiss, let alone touch each other the way the brothers were. Sam moans against Dean’s lips, and Dean tugs him back by his long locks, if it wasn’t clear before, it was now obvious that Dean was the one in charge. You squirm as the brothers continue kissing over your naked body, tongues dancing together, and heat fills you from toes to fingers. Dean pulls away from his brother, and you’re sure you can hear a whimper leave Sam’s mouth.

“Are you upset that we’re not including you, Princess?” He snickers, eyes landing on your pussy, and you can feel the wetness pooling.

“Please, let me go,” you beg again. “I give you my word, sirs, I will speak of this to no one.”

“That’s not how this is gonna work, sweetheart. Our father is already telling your father that we’d like you to come with us. See, Sammy and me, we’re gonna need someone to help carry on the Winchester name, and it looks like you’re the perfect girl to do it.” Dean picks up the blade once again, “don’t you understand? You’re ours.”

Were your parents really just going to sell you off to the Winchesters without even informing you first? And Dean was making one point painfully clear; it didn’t matter who you married, you would now be the property of the Winchester family, and they can and will use you however you want.

Dean grips your jaw again, making you face him, as he climbs over you, his legs on either side of your chest, his thick cock jutting out from his body. He twirls the knife in his hands before slicing through your corset. You can’t see past him as he rips the bodice off of you, and his eyes stare down at your breasts. Dean massages them gently for a moment, and you feel the swipe of what has to be

Sam’s tongue against your pussy lips.

Sam fucks you with his tongue relentlessly, and you hate that you're getting pleasure from something you don’t want. An involuntary moan leaves your lips, and you can feel Sam hum in amusement as you can’t control your body. Dean plays with your tits, and leaves love bites all over them, before climbing even further up your body and taps the spongy tip of his cock against your lips.

You can see Dean’s patience growing thin as you refuse to open your mouth, and he turns his head to Sam, and you close your eyes, trying desperately to fight off what you can only assume is an orgasm. Suddenly, a finger is teasing your weeping hole, gathering your slick and then entering you. Sam’s mouth returns to your clit as he adds another finger, and you can no longer keep your mouth shut, forming a perfect ‘o’ as the coil inside you finally snaps.

Dean slides his cock into your mouth without hesitation, and begins fucking you with as much enthusaism as Sam. Neither brother stops, Sam, working you through your first orgasm, and to your shame and horror, another one following closely behind.

“She’s so tight, De,” you hear Sam over the sound of Dean fucking your mouth. “Definitely a virgin.”

Dean pulls away from you, and the brothers in well-coordinated dance switch

places, Sam moves to the side of the bed, slipping his cock into your mouth as Dean takes his place between your legs.

“Oh, Sammy, she’s dripping,” Dean says with a sly grin. “Did Sammy eat this cunt good?” Dean asks as he notches his tip at your entrance. It burns as he pushes into you, the only thing keeping you from screaming is Sam’s cock in your mouth.

Tears slide down your face as the brothers abuse your mouth and your pussy, unable to do anything but wait until they’re done with you.

“Dean asked you a question, Y/N.” Sam pulls himself out of your mouth, his cock covered in your saliva. He gathers you by the hair, yanking your head back, and you yelp out in pain. “Tell him how much you loved getting your cunt eaten. Tell him you want him to cum in your pussy.”

You repeat Sam’s words, and Dean’s pace quickens before his hips begin to stutter. With a final, deliberate thrust, Dean’s body stiffens, and you feel his cock twitch inside you as he coats your walls with his seed. As soon as he pulls out, Sam is back in his spot, entering you in a swift move. Dean watches from the side as you squirm under Sam, Dean may be thicker, but Sam is longer, and slam of hips make his cock hit your cervix.

At some point one of the brothers undid the bindings around your ankles, and you don’t realize it until Sam is throwing them around his shoulders, allowing him to hit new angles inside of you. He’s tightening the coil once again, and as his cock hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thumb swipes at your clit, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, and even more intense orgasm rips through you.

“Look at the mess she made, De,” Sam laughs as he briefly slows down. “Bet we could both get in here if we wanted.” Dean moves back towards you and Sam, chuckling as he looks down to see the now ruined sheets underneath you.

“Creamed up his cock so good, Y/N.”

Dean leans in, and once again presses his lips against Sam’s. Sam doesn’t slow, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. Tears stream down your cheeks as Sam chases after his own release. But neither brother is focused on you anymore, and Sam wraps his hand around Dean’s half-hard cock, jerking it in time with every thrust he makes into you.

“I’m gonna cum,” Sam whispers as Dean pulls away.

“Me too, baby. Cum in that tight little pussy, then I’ll let you finish me off. Do it, Sammy,” he orders, “breed her.”

Sam picks up his pace once again, and with half a dozen more thrusts you can once again feel your walls being coated with Winchester seed. Sam’s mouth is on Dean’s cock, bobbing up and down until Dean stills, and when he pulls away, the brother’s share another passionate kiss.

“I see you boys started without me,” another voice enters the room. The brothers shoot each other a look before moving off the bed and stand on either side. The man comes into view; you don’t recognize him, he’s older, your father’s age at least.

“Sorry, Sir.”

The man notices the mess between your legs, and shakes his head at the brothers. A sly grin forms on his face, and he licks his lips, there's hunger, a lust, even more so than Sam or Dean, as he takes in your naked form.

You wish you could disappear, the brothers have already used you in more ways than you could imagine and now there is someone else. You want to cry, you wish you could, but all that comes out is a whimper, begging for them to let you go.

The older man lets out a breathy, low, chuckle as you squirm, his long digits leaving feather light touches as it travels back towards your abused hole. A groan leaves you as he tentatively pushes a finger in, and then another and pumps them a few times, before bringing them to your lips. He's coated in the remnants of Sam and Dean's cum, and orders you to open your mouth.

You're too scared to do anything but obey, letting the thick fingers that were just in your pussy sit on your tongue and he orders you to suck.

“Looks like my boys took good care of you, darlin’,” The man removes his shirt and trousers before climbing on to the bed, his body on top of yours. “Got that cunt of yours ready for Daddy?” You don’t respond, but Sam or Dean, you're not sure who, murmurs something. “Good, ‘cause you think my boys are big? Darlin' you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Part 2

Let me know what you think via ask or reblog!

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#notmyninth #non con #dark!fic #dark!dean #dark!sam #sam x reader x dean #virgin!reader #dark!sam x virgin!reader x dark!dean #au dean winchester #au sam winchester #dark au #regency au #wincest #top!dean x bottom!sam

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Tear Down My Reason

Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: ~2990

Warnings: Lou wrote another Soulless Sam/lust curse fic! What a shock! I can hear the gasps now. Dirty (literally) romp in the woods (outdoor sex never ends well in real life), Sam in a tux (it’s warning-worthy), brief (sexy) choking, shameless use of the “uh oh gotta make out so we don’t get caught” trope (Sam tries it, at least), lust curse (essentially), and Soulless Sam being Soulless Sam (aka bossy, bitchy, and in control). Rough, thorough, explicit fucking. Very rough. Oddly enough, though, this is fairly... fun? Like they’re bickering the entire time, and they say they don’t like each other, but they also totally like each other. 

A/N: For @cockslut-padalecki and her “Not My Ninth” challenge! 

My prompts were “charity gala” and the song Closer, by Nine Inch Nails. You know the one: “I want to fuck you like an animal.” So. This is that. In formalwear! Title is from the song as well. 

ETA - @werwulfy​ did this absolutely amazing drawing inspired by this story! Check it out!  

“Can you pretend to like me for an hour, at least?” Sam asked casually. “This won’t take long.” 

The maintenance trail emerged from the woods, concealed in a patch of shrubbery. I paused to toe my flats off and stash them under a bush. 

“Can you act like a real boy for an hour? Instead of fuckin’... SamBot 2000?” 

He chuckled at that, the low, cocky, distinctively soulless laugh that set my teeth on edge. I smacked him in the chest with my clutch to make him hold it as I got my heels on. 

I’d almost been relieved to find out that Sam was missing his soul. Now that I didn’t have to worry about hurting his feelings, I wasn’t bothering to hide my distaste for the new Sam-droid. He’d been getting under my skin in a bad way. Dean was with Lisa for the weekend, though, and we had a black-tie charity gala to sneak into, so I had reluctantly agreed to be the Saminator’s date for the night. 

We made our way toward the back patio of the historical mansion. The paths were more well-lit here, illuminated so that guests could roam the extravagant gardens. As we passed the hedge maze — of course there was a fucking hedge maze — Sam moved closer and put a hand on my back, fingers splayed across the span of bare skin where my fancy dress draped and plunged.

“Have I mentioned how good you look tonight?” he commented, his voice husky. I shivered and shook him off. 

That was the flip side of everything being out in the open. Now that he wasn’t trying to be the normal gentlemanly Sam, he wasn’t bothering to hide the way he was checking me out. I hated the new Sam, or at least my rational side did. My body? Not so much. My traitorous body was very fond of this new Sam. Aggressive and confident was a good look on him.  

So was that fucking tux. 

“I need a drink,” I muttered. He laughed again. 

“Sure you don’t want to dance?” Sam asked, as we looked around the ballroom at the glittering crowd. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” I sighed. 

“Hey, we made it through the door. The rest is a piece of cake.” 

Through the ballroom, out into the entryway, down a wood-paneled corridor, duck several security guards and a couple velvet ropes… it actually was a piece of cake, to my surprise. We got to the library without incident and made our way over to a wall of shelves opposite the door. 

“There,” I said, pointing to a tiny ivory statue of some half-animal pagan god. I’d just opened my clutch and taken out a handkerchief to protect my hand when we heard footsteps approaching. 

“Always wanted to try this move,” Sam said, grinning as he pulled me close. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snapped. 

Then Sam was kissing me, fingers curling around my jaw as he sucked on my lower lip, and the scrape of his teeth made my head spin. I took a dizzy step backward, colliding with the shelf, and threw an arm out to steady myself as I kissed him back. For a second I was lost in it, drowning in the feel of his body against mine. 

“Hey, you can’t be in here!” 

Sam pulled away, glancing down at me with huge dark eyes. Then he turned to the guard with a sheepish, “Oops.” 

“Sorry,” I said, trying to make myself look innocently surprised. 

I did not feel innocent.

“Let’s see your invitations,” the guard barked. “Names?” 

“That always works so well in movies,” Sam muttered, and then he burst into action, springing forward, punching the guard just before he could grab his walkie-talkie. The guy fell heavily, and Sam knelt to check his pulse while I turned back to the shelf. 

The statuette was lying on its side, and for a second I didn’t understand how that could’ve happened. 

Fuck. 

“I need your handkerchief to gag him, c’mon,” Sam ordered. 

“Jesus, you’re fucking bossy.” I picked the thing up gingerly and dropped it in my clutch. When I turned around, Sam was knotting his cummerbund neatly around the guy’s ankles. 

“Not bad, right?” he asked, admiring his work smugly. 

I rolled my eyes and grabbed that guard’s wrists (bound in Sam’s tie) to help drag him behind a bookshelf, where he wouldn’t be visible from the door. Sam gagged him carelessly. 

We peered around the door before stepping into the hall, walking quickly, and made a beeline through the entrance hall, Sam tugging me along by the wrist. When we hit the ballroom we slowed down, trying to look inconspicuous. His hand settled on my back again, and this time I didn’t try to move away. 

“See? Piece of cake.” 

“Well...” 

“Seriously? Tell me you didn’t touch it.” 

“I can’t say that with 100% certainty,” I said testily. 

“Let’s focus on getting out of here. Stay calm.”  

“Easy for you to say!”

“You’re not in any immediate danger.” 

“Oh, well, as long as it’s not immediate,” I grouched. 

We were quiet as we made our way down the steps and into the garden. The full moon had come out from behind the clouds, and it was almost too bright as we ducked off the main path; we had to be extra careful as we stuck to the shadows. I kicked my heels off, leaving them there under the bush, and as soon as I had my normal shoes on we started down the maintenance trail. 

“So?” Sam asked. I struggled to keep pace as he led the way on his stupid long giant legs. “Did you just forget about how you’re not supposed to touch the magic statue?” 

“It’s not like I grabbed it on purpose. I think I brushed against it when you fuckin’ shoved me up against the wall, asshole. This is your fault. Just tell me what’s gonna happen.” 

Sam snorted. “It makes you act on animal instinct. Brings out whatever nasty thing you’ve been repressing because of social expectations. Which I guess could be problematic, considering that you repress just about every-fucking-thing, but…” 

“Fuck you. I do not.”  

“As long as you give in, you’ll be fine. It’s just a problem when people try to ignore it. Hell, maybe this’ll be good for you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” A weird prickle of heat ran down my spine. 

“Exactly what it sounded like,” Sam retorted, completely unrepentant. “You’d be a hell of a lot happier if you just let go sometimes. Unless your repressed instinct is homicide, I guess. That’s where the body count on that thing comes in. Are you feeling homicidal?” 

“Keep talking and I just might.” 

Out of nowhere, there was this jolt of heat through my gut, sharp and sudden, and I stumbled. 

“What was that?” Sam asked. He sounded more intrigued than concerned. 

“I’m fine. I miss the real you, but I’m fine.” 

As soon as I said it, another flash of arousal went through me. I let out a low, breathless moan and stopped short. 

“That’s not what you sound like when you’re fine.” 

“Fuck off.” 

It wasn’t a normal sort of lust. It hurt as it cramped through me, like pinpricks, too urgent to be natural. 

“Oh,” Sam said. He smirked, head tilted, evaluating me with laser-sharp focus. The intensity of that stare sent a whole new wave of need through me. 

“I’m fine,” I repeated. My skin was tingling all over, and I wanted to jump him almost as much as I wanted to punch him. 

Then he was coming in close, prowling, predatory… my first instinct was to back away, but my feet were carrying me forward without my permission. We collided, his hands firm on my waist, mine sliding up the front of his suit jacket to grip the lapels and cling. 

“You’re not fine,” he said smugly. 

“Help me,” I gritted out. 

He looked around, assessing our surroundings, before pushing over to the nearest big tree and crowding me up against the wide trunk. One hand curled under my chin and tilted my head back to meet his gaze. 

His face was beautiful but strange in the moonlight, an abstract collection of silvery lines and pooling shadows, but I could see the way his eyes were glittering. I swallowed hard. 

“How do you want it, then?” Sam asked, casual like we were talking about the weather. 

Fuck. 

“Just… your fingers,” I said tersely, trying to control my breathing and my imagination. 

“You think that’ll be enough?” he asked, as he rucked up my dress.  

“God, I hope so,” I sighed. I closed my eyes, trying to block everything out, trying not to breathe in the clean, spicy masculine scent of him. 

“Seriously? Am I that hideous to you?” He tugged my panties down and I stepped out of them shakily, distracted by the way his knuckles brushed slowly up my inner thigh. “Tell me you haven’t thought about this before. Or are you hung up on the whole soul thing?” 

“Don’t.” 

Sam shrugged. He hooked a hand under one of my knees, hefting my leg up and to one side, steadying me as I clung to the front of his jacket. Then he was sinking two fingers into me, and my eyes rolled back in my head at the feel of it, this immediate overwhelming rush of bone-deep relief. 

“Tell me what you like.” His fingers twisted deeper with an obscene slick ease, curling and crooking. 

“This — this is good,” I croaked, biting my lip.  

Sam shifted, leaning down to whisper in my ear: “I can feel how close you are already, but that’s not enough. It’s about animal instinct. Things you’ve been repressing. What do you fantasize about? What do you really want?” 

“I don’t want anything else from you.”  

“Do you wish it was Dean, instead of me?” I let my head fall back, whining, rolling my hips. He laughed quietly. “You can pretend, if you want. I don’t care. Think about how he’d feel —”  

“Fuck you,” I hissed. “Shut up.” 

His thumb circled my clit, and my thighs started to shake.  

“What are you so ashamed of?” he asked, low and silky. “Believe me, however filthy you think you are, I’ve done worse. C’mon, let go, I’ve got you.” I whimpered, shuddering as I came, while Sam held me steady, pinning me against the tree, teasing me: “Good girl. There you go… now can you just admit you were wrong? Let me help.” 

It was already starting to hurt again, even as I shivered through the aftershocks. There were bright spots dancing in my vision. 

“I want to be on top,” I snapped. 

He smirked. “Suit yourself.” 

Sam picked me up by the waist without warning, moving me bodily out of the way, and I almost stumbled. He shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and spread it on the ground, covering the moss and crunchy leaves that blanketed the base of the tree, so that he could sit up with his back against the trunk. My cheeks burned at the sound of his zipper. 

I straddled him, clumsy and overeager, trying to hike my dress up. Sam fumbled between us, trying to help, but for a moment we were all tangled up, getting in each other's way. I heard the seam of my skirt give with a rip as I pulled it out of the way carelessly. Then the hot thick head of his cock was sliding up against my entrance, and the way it pressed in, blunt and velvety-smooth and big, made every rational thought fly out the window. 

Sam’s fingers were bruisingly tight on my hips. In the moonlight I could see the way he was clenching his jaw as he let his head fall back against the tree trunk. It bared the tendons and muscles of his neck over his open collar, and I leaned in before I could think twice, nipping sharply at the soft skin under his jaw. 

“Harder,” Sam breathed. “Let go. I know you want to.” 

“You don’t know me,” I protested, but the last word caught and hitched and turned into a moan. 

“Always figured you’d fuck the same way you fight… like a wild animal. You like it rough, don’t you? You want me to mark you up and make it hurt.” 

“I don’t —” 

He ran one hand up my bare back and then scratched, fingernails catching like lines of fire as they dragged down. I shouted, muscles spasming as my cunt clenched around him, and he laughed, ragged and breathy. 

“Animal instinct, remember? Don’t try to pretend you didn’t like that. No point lying when I can feel it from the inside.” 

I slid my fingers into his hair and kissed him, teeth sinking into his lower lip until I tasted blood. Sam fisted a hand in my hair in return, yanking, tugging my head back to expose my neck. He sucked a bruise into my collarbone — dragged his mouth down — nibbled at the swell of my breast, finding my nipple through the silk of my dress, sucking, teeth scraping — 

He flipped us without warning, slamming me down onto my back so hard it knocked the breath from my lungs. All I could do was gasp for air, dizzyingly close. He was completely in control as he sat back on his heels, holding my hips up so that he could rock into me with shallow little thrusts, rubbing perfectly against my g-spot. He looked down, eyes fixed to the place where his cock was splitting me open.

“You gonna do something about it, or just stare all night?” I whimpered, my voice strained. 

Sam grinned, dangerously sharp, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake. 

He reached down and wrapped his long fingers around my throat, fingers nudging expertly into position so that he could cut off blood flow without crushing my windpipe. My vision started to go sparkly black at the edges. Then his other hand palmed my belly, his thumb circling roughly around my clit, and my spine bowed up like he’d zapped me to life with a defibrillator. 

He released my neck, and at the first head-spinning gulp of oxygen I came hard and fast, writhing under him, trying to stifle my wild sobs by biting down on my own forearm. 

I was still shaking when he pulled out and grabbed my legs, flipping me onto my stomach roughly, hauling my hips up until I was on my knees with my elbows in the dirt and my ass up in the air. My eyes were stinging with tears. I made an ugly noise of relief as I felt the slick burn of his cock again.

It felt so good that it took me a second to realize that the unnatural prickly heat in my belly was gone. It wasn’t the curse making my cunt throb and clench around him. This was a different sort of desperation. 

“Should see yourself,” he whispered, his voice shredded. “Any idea how filthy you look? With your legs spread and your dress up around your waist and your face down in the dirt, begging to get fucked?” 

“Not begging yet,” I snarled. “Is that all you got?” 

He scratched my back again, one hand raking down between my shoulderblades in a glorious lash of fiery pain, and then he grabbed me by the hair again, twisting as he held me down. He pulled out slow and shoved in all at once. 

“Anybody ever tell you how good you look on your knees? Being so good for me. Been thinking about this for so long, since the first time I saw you fight.” 

My head spun. That was years ago, long before Sam lost his soul, and — 

— oh.

He fucked me harder, hips snapping forward with a sharp smack of skin on skin, swiveling in deep to wrench too-intense pleasure from me with every thrust. 

“You’re gonna come for me, one more time. Let me feel you.” 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” I growled. 

“That’s my girl.”

“Not,” I slurred, defiant even though it felt like he was breaking me. “Not yours.” 

“Maybe not, but you’re going to do what I tell you. Let go.” 

I let out a raw, helpless sob. My head didn’t want to listen, but my body was already gone. 

Everything froze and dissolved into white. The rest of the world faded away, brilliant and beautiful, for a long transcendent moment; it felt like ecstasy, like a religious experience, like peace. 

And then I snapped back into reality, to the ugly human chaos of the moment, the smell of dirt and sweat, sensations jumbling together: broken sounds spilling from my lips, slowly receding waves of my orgasm clenching in my core, Sam grinding into me one last time. He came with a shout and I gasped, shaking, feeling the way he pulsed inside me. 

It took a second before either of us could move, but then Sam pulled me upright, pulling me back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me. 

For a second, I forgot this wasn’t the real Sam, the soft kind sweet one, the Sam I loved. 

I tilted my head back against his shoulder, wondering when we could do that again, and let out a soft, “God.”  

“Pretty much the opposite, actually,” he said, with that unmistakable cold smirk in his voice. He pressed the heel of his hand between my legs, blunt and rough, making me moan. “Should probably shower before the next round. Guess we could do both at once, if we want to be efficient about it.” 

I bristled. “What, you’re just going to assume —” 

“You were thinking the same thing, don’t lie to me.” 

“Fine,” I snapped. “But I’m still not going to pretend to like you.” 

His laugh made my skin crawl. 

.

.

.

#sam winchester smut #soulless sam #soulless!sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fic #notmyninth

[nekoannie-chan]

Thanks to the gala

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word count: 412 words.

Summary: You organized the event of the year, however, the others had something different planned.

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is my entry to @cockslut-padalecki​ ’s Not my ninth challenge with the song:

“Creep- Radiohead & Charity gala.”

Thanks to my beta reader @saiyanprincessswanie​

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake, please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @navybrat817​ @angrythingstarlight​ @shield-agent78​ @charmed-asylum​ @pandaxnienke​ @real-fbi​ @smokeandnailz​ @white-wolf1940​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @xoxonotme​ @bluemusickid​ @leyannrae​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @marvelatthisone​ 

You were about to lose your temper as things weren't going as you had planned.

"At what damn moment did it occur to Stark that I should organize this? I'm just an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” you sputtered while trying to fix the table vase.

"Y/N, I was looking for you...” Steve chimed in but was cut off by you.

"Not now, Cap. I have to fix this mess," you replied while still accommodating the things.

Steve grimaced as his plan wasn't turning out the way he was expecting it.

"Take advantage and invite her out," Bucky whispered.

"That's what I'm trying to do, but...”

"No ifs, you're going to ask her out on a date," Bucky encouraged Steve by giving him a little push to walk towards her.

"The decoration and organization are stunning," Stark said.

“It would have looked better if you had hired a professional,” you answered. You still had no idea what to do if the caterer didn't arrive or if another situation happened that was completely out of your hands.

"No, you’re the best for this and the only one who would make everything perfect tonight,” replied Tony with a smile.

You smiled slightly at his compliment. As soon as you could you would talk to Fury to prevent something like this from happening again.

"Y/N," Steve called to you again.

"Steve, what happened?” Internally you begged that there wouldn't be any problems or you would collapse. “Are you having fun?”

"Yes, everything’s very nice. What about you are you having fun?”

"I... not really.” What you wanted was to run away from this place and go home to sleep.

"Why? Is there something going on?”

“I want to leave. I'm very tired. I had to organize and fix all this...”

“Everything looks great from where I’m standing. Trust me, if I had done this it would surely be a disaster.” Steve tried to reassure her but he could tell she was still unsure about the compliment.

"But you save the world,” you responded grumpily.

“You do too, you're an agent. Let me propose something to you. We'll go wherever you want, just you and me. Will that help?” Steve asked.  

You nodded as Steve took your hand, leading you out of the room. Wherever he's going to take you it would be a lot more relaxing than this place. 

Natasha approached Bucky and Tony smiling. “Did it work? “The redhead questioned.

“Of course, it worked, they're already leaving.” 

#notmyninth #not my ninth #steve rogers x reader

[cockslutpadalecki]

Not My Ninth Challenge

As most of you are aware I hit 9K recently, but I have been trying for some time to come up with a relatively unique challenge to celebrate it. I have tried to incorporate the number 9 wherever I can (and still have it make sense), so here goes!

I love 90s music. Personally, it was the best decade for music (maybe with the exception of the 80s...) so I have decided that, instead of using generic prompts, you’ll have a mixture of songs from each year of the 90s to choose from to base your fic on. There are three songs per year (‘91-‘99) so there’s plenty to choose from. I also tried to be strategic in my selection— not in any way to make things harder, but I feel that the songs themselves (or at the very least a handful of lyrics) can be interpreted into something angsty/smutty/fluffy and you are more than welcome to focus on a particular lyric than the entire song if it comes easier to you.

Also, as a bit of a twist, there is a list of nine tropes to pick from to go with your chosen prompt. These nine are based around the term “dressed up to the nines.” ("To the nines" is an English idiom meaning "to perfection" or "to the highest degree" or to dress "buoyantly and high class".)

RULES

Fandoms: Supernatural (Sam/Dean) or Marvel (Steve/Bucky). I know it’s a narrow selection, but these are mostly the characters I am indulging in at the moment.

I was going to set a word limit of 999, but I thought that was a bit excessive... however you want to aim for it, knock yourself out. The ‘official’ word limit is 3K. And please remember to include your W/C in your author’s notes.

Anything over 500 words needs to be under a read more tab.

Any POV is fine.

All genres and their subcategories are welcome.

While I encourage non-con and everything dark, please note I don’t indulge in paedophilia, toilet stuff and lactation/mommy kink. 

Appropriate tags are a must. Not just for me, but for everyone else too.

Please send me an ask with your choices, they’re easier to keep tabs on.

One prompt/trope combination per person. Multiple people can have the same trope and different songs, or different tropes but the same song.

Please tag me in your work and use the hashtag #notmyninth when posting.

If I haven’t reblogged your entry within 48 hours of you posting, please send me an ask or DM with a link so I can.

Genuine entries only please. Please don’t take a spot if you have no intention of writing anything. I know life gets in the way sometimes, but if you really can’t fulfil your prompt, please let me know so I can give it to someone else. 

Closing date is my birthday: 22nd February 2021.

I can’t wait to see what you come up with!

PROMPT LIST UPDATE: 27/01/2021

TROPES

Royal Court

Masquerade Ball

Wedding Reception

Prom

Charity Gala

Aristocratic Society

New Years Celebration

Award Ceremony

Opera

SONG PROMPTS

1990/1991

Show Me Heaven - Maria McKee

Emotions - Mariah Carey

(Everything I Do) I Do It For You - Bryan Adams @redredwine92​ / @sams-sass​ (Masquerade Ball) @traceyaudette​ (Royal Court)

1992

Stay - Shakespeare’s Sister @sapphirescrolls​ (Masquerade Ball)

Beauty and The Beast - Celine Dion  @anaelsbrunette​ (Royal Court)

Acky Breaky Heart - Billy Ray Cyrus

1993 

The Sign - Ace Of Base @fictionalabyss​ (New Years Celebration)

Babe - Take That @deanwanddamons​ (Wedding Reception)

Creep - Radiohead @nekoannie-chan​ (Charity Gala)

1994

Always - Bon Jovi  @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​ (Wedding Reception)

Chains - Tina Arena @sweeterthanthis​ (Wedding Reception)

Closer - Nine Inch Nails @twistedanddecayed​ (Masquerade Ball) @there-must-be-a-lock​ (Charity Gala) @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ (Royal Court)

1995

Don’t Speak - No Doubt @jay-and-dean (Prom) @hoboal87 (Masquerade Ball) @awesomerextyphoon (Royal Court) @waywardbaby​ (Wedding Reception)

Kiss From A Rose - Seal @natthebattygeologist​ (Royal Court)

Wonderwall - Oasis

1996

Don’t Marry Her - The Beautiful South @firefly-in-darkness (Awards Ceremony) @holylulusworld​ (Wedding Reception)

Don’t Let Go - En Vogue  @letsby (Awards Ceremony)

Pony - Ginuwine @pinknerdpanda​ (Wedding Reception)

1997 

Torn - Natalie Imbruglia  @winchest09​ (Royal Court)

Un-Break My Heart - Toni Braxton

How Do I Live - LeAnn Rimes @velvetcardiganbucky​ (Wedding Reception)

1998 

Crush - Jennifer Paige   @rosalynshields (Charity Gala) @avintagekiss24​ (Aristocratic Society)

Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom - Vengaboys

... Baby One More Time - Britney Spears @angrythingstarlight​ (Wedding Reception)

1999

No Scrubs - TLC @the-iceni-bitch​ (Charity Gala)

I Wanna Love You Forever - Jessica Simpson @watermelonlipstick​ (Wedding Reception)

Genie In A Bottle - Christina Aguilera @moosekateer13​ (Aristocratic Society)

Tagging for potential sign ups/signal boosts: @twistedanddecayed​@princessmisery666​ @letsby​ @kittenofdoomage​ @impala-dreamer​ @threeminutesoflife​ @imanuglywombat​ @kellyn1604​ @sapphirescrolls​ @becs-bunker​ @crashdevlin​ @pinknerdpanda​ @idabbleincrazy​ @sweeterthanthis​ @mariekoukie6661​ @jay-and-dean​ @firefly-in-darkness​ @jtargaryen18​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @winchest09​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @manawhaat​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @fictionalabyss​ @holylulusworld​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @deanwanddamons​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @irrelevantwriter​ @likedovesinthewnd​ @flamencodiva​@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @jewelswrites-ish​ @angrythingstarlight​ @awesomerextyphoon​ @navybrat817​

#notmyninth #notmyninthchallenge

[natthebattygeologist]

A Brush with a Cursed Lily

Royal Court AU

King’s Advisor!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

A/N: So here it is, a second part to A Kiss From a Rose. I’m sorry for the wait however I got very busy with work and my university projects. I do so hope you enjoy this. It’s written slightly differently to part 1 as this is all from the Reader’s POV.

I just want to thank @cockslut-padalecki for allowing me to write part 1 as part of the #notmyninth writing challenge and I hope that this angsty follow up does A Kiss From a Rose proud.

Word Count: 2208

Warnings: Angst, angst, more angst, some light fluff, swearing, implied smut, grief, mentions of loss.

Reader’s POV

I ran around chasing after the little squirt who was currently avoiding his bath-time before tripping up and landing square on my backside in a patch of tall Calla Lilies. They were a stunning shade of deep violet and brought back the memories of 6 summers ago. The day I was married off to my best-friend, Steve Rogers, Lord of Rosebury-upon-Sale. I chuckled to myself as my husband rounded the corner of the orangery with our son, covered in mud head to toe, a huge smile plastered on his face. The last few years had been trying at times, and unbearable in others but somehow, we managed to make it through.

“Frolicking in the flowers are we, my petal?” A deep laugh resonated from Steve’s chest as he took in the sight of me, dishevelled and dirtied from my tumble.

“Yes, it’s a rather delightful hobby I have found. Quite the thrilling end to chasing our little gremlin child. Now if you would be so inclined as to help your pregnant wife out of the flower bed, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Come now love, you know I love to see you in a fluster, but I suppose it would do the baby no good leaving you there.”

I took the hand he so graciously offered me and took our muddied little boy from his father’s hold.

“Now honestly Charlie, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Prince as muddy and dirty as you are right now, you little rascal. Let’s get you cleaned up and fed, then maybe we can go and visit Uncle James before bedtime.”

----------------- 4 Years Earlier----------------

The King summoned us back to court, and what was meant to be a joyous visit quickly became a permanent stay. Upon our arrival we were greeted by a bleary-eyed Prince and an equally as troubled Princess. The King was dying and had called upon his advisor to help prepare for Bucky’s transition into power. To anyone else nothing would’ve seemed amiss, except it was.

When James’ back was turned, I had witnessed Princess Maia acting rather strangely, gathering bouquets of foxglove and trimmings of deadly nightshade. I was almost certain of her intentions but feared my own safety and so kept it to myself, until one night where I couldn’t bear the burden this knowledge held over me any longer.

“Steve, my love, I have something troubling my mind.” My voice came out a hushed and broken whisper.

“What worries you so my petal? I know it hasn’t been easy for you being back, and having to pretend to like Maia, I assure you that I am always here to listen to you and love you.”

“Well, you see, I think I know why the King is sick. On several occasions I have witnessed the Princess with my own eyes gathering bouquets of foxglove and cuttings from the nightshade bush down by the lily patch. I worry that she is poisoning the King, taking advantage of both his and James’ compromised states to hold a sway over decisions that will likely see our kingdom lost to that of her own father.”

I spoke confidently now, having been an integral part of the court for all my childhood. Steve knew better than to question my knowledge of how things ran. He also knew that I would be one of the first to notice if anything was awry, be that with the account books or even the numbers of armed men stationed at each watchtower. After the death of his wife the King only had James as an heir, and so, he vowed that in case any ill befall him I would also be trained, so that if required, I could become a successful Queen someday.

“Steve, I do believe wholeheartedly that this is all a set-up and that we have been blindly infiltrated by our enemy. Things aren’t adding up. The number of guards stationed at The Keep has been halved in sized since the King has fallen ill. It leaves the West of the kingdom in a precarious position. One where an attack could easily happen and be kept quiet. I don’t like the look of it, any of it, and something needs to be done before we are conquered, you are killed, and me resigned to a life of slavery and servitude at the hands of the despicable Wyvern family.” My voice broke and a sob tore through me at the thought of losing everything I have left to the family that has already taken so much from me, starting with my mother shortly after I was born.

“Hush my petal. Tears will do nothing to fix this. The King is aware of the situation, however in our absence the Prince has changed, and he has become blinded by his love for ‘his lily’, though I daresay snake would be the better term for that venomous bitch.” A scoff escaped Steve’s lips before he continued. “The reason the King summoned us is because he has seen what fate has befallen James. He has made his bed, albeit a rather uncomfortable bed, and now he will have to lie in it. The King wishes for you to become Queen after his passing. He wants to stop the plans of Maia’s family before their tendrils of poison can run further into our kingdom than they already have. You my love can bring all this to an end, and I believe you would be able to unite the Kingdoms in a peaceful treaty that could last.”

I curled up into Steve’s side placing a chaste kiss to his lips. He returned it with a hunger and passion before carding his fingers through my hair and tracing them along my jaw.

“Please my petal, let me chase away your worries, after all, if you are to be Queen, we shall need to work on producing some heirs.”

A smirk befell his lips before he ducked his head, nipping at my neck, knowing full well that I would cave to his carnal desires.

--------------- Present Day -------------

After having cleaned up the mucky Prince, Steve and I walked with him through the gardens as evening began to draw in. Fireflies filled the air as we made the trek to the rose garden. As a child it had been mine and Bucky’s favourite place to hide, and on more than one occasion hugs and kisses had been exchanged.

Today this garden holds a whole new meaning as at its centre, beneath a beautiful weeping willow, lay James’ grave.

------------- 3 Years Earlier ------------

Before the King’s passing, he ordered his kings-guard to imprison and execute the Princess for treason against the throne. She was hung at The Keep as a warning to her family that they were next. Their years of planning and scheming had come to an abrupt and distasteful end.

What the Wyverns deemed as an unlawful murder incited a full war between our Kingdoms, it saw both Steve and Bucky fighting on the front lines with me at the helm, as Queen. Soon I had treaties signed with other Kingdoms aligning us for generations to come, until the only one stood against the alliance was the Kingdom of the Serpents. The battle of Roseknappe in the Western borders was the bloodiest battle of all. By this time, I was no longer part of frontline action as I was holed up in the castle under the watchful protection of my elite Queens-guard. When news got out that I was with child the Wyverns stopped at nothing to try and kill me or at the least cause me harm enough for my body to rid itself of the heir I now lovingly grew inside of me. But they needn’t have worried.

When I was around 5 months along tragedy struck our kingdom. The arrival of my husband looking grey in pallor, with sunken eyes and covered in injuries was the first sign that something was very wrong. When the two had left to fight they rode off, side by side, settling any grievances they had over the arranged marriages and uniting to fight to save the Kingdom and keep me on the throne. Steve’s return signalled the end of an era and feelings in my gut that had been dormant for years surfaced in cry of grief so great that it silenced the birdsong for days. Although James was not King, he was still a beloved Prince. My first love and the person who would forever hold a piece of my heart.

In my grief-stricken state I had fallen and managed to land with the sharp riser of the marble stairs squarely in my abdomen. The shock I was in meant that I hadn’t noticed the blood that began pooling nor do I remember what happened over the next few weeks as the doctors and healers frantically worked to keep me alive.

“Steve? Steve? Where’s James? I…. I want to see him. I…” I was interrupted by Steve coming over and pulling me tight to his chest.

“Praise to the Old Gods, my petal, are you okay? Are you in any pain?” worry had seeped into his tone and what looked to be a pang of guilt crossed his normally stoic face. “My love, how much do you remember of the last three weeks?”

A confused expression befell my features before Steve decided to continue.

“Oh, my sweet love, James... James isn’t coming back. The fight at Roseknappe, he saved my life by taking the arrow that was meant to pierce my heart, he sacrificed himself because he wanted me to be able to return to you, so I could love you the way he was never allowed to. So that I could raise a family and keep our Kingdom strong. He died in my arms after begging me to pass you on this letter that he wrote, almost as if he knew he wouldn’t make it back from this war.”

Fresh tears began to fall as Steve handed me the bloodied paper.

My dearest Rose,

How I wish things had been different, and that it was I that got to hold you in my arms at the end of the aisle. I begged my father to change his mind, but he wouldn’t budge. I will never forgive myself for the horrid things I said to you when father made you queen. I was poisoned by the words of a traitor and knowing now I hurt the one true love of my life is the reason why I will fight so hard to save you.

If you are reading this it means I am gone my sweet girl. I know that you will grieve me but please, for my sake as much as your own, I want you to love Steve as wholly as you once loved me. I beg of you to take care of yourself and to keep me close as you grow through the years. I am sorry I will not be there to see my little nieces and nephews, but I know that you and Steve will be the most wonderful parents.

That day in the rose garden, after your first dance in front of the court, when I kissed you. I wanted to tell you then just how much I loved you, but I couldn’t do it. It’s almost as if in my heart I knew you would never truly be mine.

I love you my Rose and I will see you in the next life,

Your Prince,

Bucky

xx

4 months later after grieving the loss of the Prince, the Kingdom was celebrating, not just a victory of war and a long lasting treaty of peace, but the birth of their future King.

Prince Charlie James Buchanan Rogers, heir to the throne of Rosehall and Duke of Snowblossom Grove.

----------- Present Day ----------

“…… and that is the story of how your brave Uncle James battled the terrifying Wyverns to protect your mummy.”

I could hear Steve talking with Charlie as I sat on the bench staring blankly at the grave, wishing with every ounce of strength that I could, hoping to gain just one more moment with my soulmate.

“Come Charlie, let’s get you into bed, then tomorrow we can go riding and Papa can show you the waterfall where him and Uncle James decided to scare me into thinking that your Papa had drowned. Really, they just wanted mummy to go swimming with them, but they knew I wouldn’t go unless there was an emergency.”

After settling Charlie into bed, I took a stroll around the halls before heading to my shared chambers. Laying on the bed next to Steve he protectively wrapped his arms around me, as if he could shield me from the pain the world would throw at me.

“I love you Steven Grant Rogers. It may have taken me a while but, I have always cared for you, and I vow to you now that I will love you until my dying breath.”

“I know my petal, as I will love you, and Charlie, and this little one that we have yet to meet, until mine.”

Taglist: (My Humble Peeps)

@missyredbean

#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #royal court #notmyninth

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Always

Summary: Finally, you have the opportunity to marry your best friend.  Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean, Jack(mention), Chuck & Amara (mention), Donna (mention), Jody(mention) Prompt: Trope > Wedding Reception // Song > Always by Bon Jovi Warnings: Established relationship, love, lots of fluff, Dean is the perfect big brother. Part of the lyrics are included Word Count: 846 This was written for the Not My Ninth Challenge of @cockslut-padalecki

A/N: The events on the finale of Supernatural are not contemplated for this fic. Sorry for the delay honey. I hope you like it!

^

Sam and you have been engaged for the past two years and you had been planning your wedding for the past year or so, but in the middle, you had to focus on the whole Chuck and Amara thing. That was more important for everyone. This wasn’t just saving the world from an apocalypse, this was saving the world from being destroyed. 

When you ended Chuck and Amara, and Jack went to Heaven, it was time to get married. Dean became your wedding planner. He wanted everything to look perfect.

Dean, Sam, and you wanted to be something special. Most of your family and friends were long gone, but there were a few going on around the country, and you want them to be part of that day.

Donna, Jody, and the girls helped you to find the perfect dress for the wedding reception. You weren’t a fan of wearing them, but this was a special ocassion. It wasn’t going to be anything fancy, just something, small and simple, a family gathering.

On the day of the wedding, you were a mix of emotions. You couldn’t believe it. The awaited day finally arrived. You were going to get married to your best friend, the love of your life, your partner, your Sam. Dean was beyond excited, probably more than Sam and you.

-Hey sweetheart! Are you excited? — he greeted you entering the kitchen -No, I’m happy — you told him -Me too — Sam said from behind — I thought this day would have never come -But is finally here — you said and kissed him -Come on, lovebirds. Let’s go get ready — Dean interrupted Sam and you went separate ways but Dean stopped you -What is it? — you asked -I’ve got a surprise for you — Dean said all shy, kissed you on the cheek and left with Sam. Jody was waiting for you in another room to get ready

The wedding reception was going according to Dean’s plans. The music was classic rock, of course, but you loved it, the decorations were simpler but subtle, the food was exquisite, everything looked perfect. Nobody thought that Dean could pull something like that.

After a while, Dean came to you with a huge smile -Oh no! Don’t even think about it — you said already warning him -Oh yes!— he said — Do you trust me? — he asked you and you slightly nodded You were afraid of what the surprise was. Dean was your big brother and you trusted him with your life, but this, he was way too excited for your wedding -Dean, what are you doing? He didn’t answer you, he just took you to the middle of the little dance floor the girls settled -Close your eyes — Dean said -Nope, not doing it — you said and he just shrugged You were standing in the middle of the room alone with everybody looking at you, Sam was nowhere to be seen. That’s when you felt him, he was behind you a few steps away looking at you. You saw him and just smiled, you didn’t know how you ended up marrying that man. He was perfect. He got closer to you and engulfed you in one of those hugs he usually gave.

A piece of slow music could be heard in the background and he was slowly swinging you side to side in a slow dance. Everyone started to clapped and you became shy all of a sudden -Thank you for becoming my eternal best friend — you whispered Sam just leaned and kissed you. He broke the kiss and recite -And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always. — you just chuckled when you recognized the song —  I'll be there till the stars don't shine, till the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme, and I know when I die you'll be on my mind. And I'll love you, always. 

Of course, Dean decided to play the song Always by Bon Jovi as your first dance as a married couple. He knew how much that song meant to you and how important was for you, mainly because you felt identified with it. You smiled shyly and looked at Sam with teary eyes -You’re such a dork — you said and lean to kiss him He broke the kiss but rested his forehead with yours. Both of you started to recite the song to the other. The moment was magical, it was perfect. You kept dancing to the song, nobody interrupted you, everyone was so captivated seeing your two dancing that they felt bad to ruin that moment.

When the song was ending you hugged Sam and stayed there for a little, feeling him -And I'll love you, always — you said

This was the exact moment that you knew your life was complete. Right now, no one and no creature was going to ruin your happiness. This moment you had the perfect life you ever wanted.

Tag List (it’s open, just ask)

@iguessweallcrazyithinktho | @mrspeacem1nusone | @thevelvetseries | @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem | @caplanbuckybarnes |

#notmyninth #writing challenge #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #spn fanfiction #spn imagine

[traceyaudette]

Becoming Queen

AN: Not My Ninth Challange @cockslut-padalecki

Song: Bryan Adams Everything I Do, I do it For You.

Trope: Royal Court

Character: Dean Winchester 

Word count: 708

I sat on the bed, my emotions were all over the place. I closed my eyes, trying to get myself together. I had to get myself together, I had no choice, it was killing me. I stood up, picking up my phone, I opened my phone; looking at a picture, I smiled sadly. “Everything I do, I do for you.” I whispered. 

My phone rang causing me to jump, I ignored the caller, knowing I could not talk to him. If I talked to him, then I could go through with this deal that I had made, and I would lose all that I loved. I breathed a sigh of relief when the phone stopped ringing, I breathed heavily that he did not leave a voice message. 

A few seconds later my phone pinged and I had a text message.

D: Please, tell me where you are! I’m going out of my mind! “Look into your heart, baby! I love you so damn much! Please baby!”

Tears came to my eyes. I didn't want to respond to him.  I knew if I did, I’d break my deal. The phone dinged again. 

D: “Search your heart, search your soul! When you find me there, you'll search no more.  I know you love me!”

I had to end it, so he would not look for me. I knew he would search the ends of the earth for me. I took a deep breath and started to type.

Me: “There's no love, Like your love! Please, if you really love me, you’ll walk away and forget about me! Stay safe!”

 I dropped the phone on the bed, not wanting to see his response. I jumped when the door opened,

Crowley stood there smiling.  "Are you ready to become my Queen?"

XXX

Dean read (Y/N)’s reply,his heart breaking. “There's no love, Like your love! Please, if you really love me, you’ll walk away and forget about me! Stay safe!” How could she doubt that he loved her? How could she even think that he would forget her, or even walk away from her.

He noticed she didn’t deny her love for him, she didn’t admit her love either. He walked out of his room, heading towards the library in the bunker. “Sammy!”

Not only was he not going to walk away, he was not going to forget about (Y/N)! She is the love of his life, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Oh, you can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for, I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more. Yeah, I would fight for you I'd lie for you Walk the wire for you Yeah, I'd die for you

“Sammy you got a location on (Y/N)?” Dean looked at his brother.

“You aren’t going to like it!” Sam looked down at the map.

“I don’t care, I’m going to go get her and break her home!”

“She’s in Crowely’s castle!”

“Let’s go get her!”

XXX

I walked the halls of Crowley’s castle wearing a red ball gown, adorned in jewels. Crowley stood beside me, in his usual black suit. I exhaled slowly as he took my hand, I wanted to snatch it away, I wanted to run. Run to the man I loved, the man that was the love of my life; but that was all over.

“Beauty, I hope you’re not thinking of breaking our deal!” Crowley purred.

“No, I’m not going to break our deal!” I snarked. “I promised to become your Queen, so the boys could live.”

“Very good! Let’s make it official!” Crowley smiled as he took my arm and opened the throne room. There stood an official to marry us, and I would become Queen of hell.

XXX

Dean and Sam rushed through the castle, searching through rooms looking for (Y/N). Slowly approaching the throne room, the brothers busted open the doors. 

“(Y/N), do you take Crowley to be your husband, and do you accept the responsibilities as the Queen of Hell?”

Dean ran towards the altar, yelling (Y/N)’s name.

@cockslut-padalecki @notyourtypicalpunkgirl  @small-town-wayward-daughter @impalaimagining @clairese1980 @charliebradbury1104 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @geeksareunique@sweetchaosturtle@winchester-negan-one-shots  @miru186mcrmarvelloki  (Dean)

#notmyninth #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #SPN #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural #crowley #crowley x reader

[moosekateer13]

Genie in a Bottle Masterlist

For @cockslut-padalecki ​'s  Not My Ninth Challenge

Trope: Aristocratic Society

Song: Christina Aguilera’s Genie in a bottle

Alpha! Sam x Omega (Alpha) reader

Warnings: Angst, A/B/O, Smut,  Witchcraft, Old Fashioned views, Fluff

Word Count :1900 (excluding summary & warnings)

Summary:

In  France's Mévouiret aristocracy society it is frowned upon to be an omega. If a female presents as one they are expected to fall in-line and become housewives. 

  So Y/N uses magic to hide her true nature. Her childhood friends Sam and Dean have no idea that their friend is Omega.

They think she's an alpha like them.

Since Sam presented a couple of decades ago Y/N 's been wanting to let the spell wane. 

Inspired by Christina Aguilera’s Genie in a Bottle

I feel like I've been locked up tight. For a century of lonely nights

Waiting for someone to release me. You're lickin' your lips

And blowing kisses my way. But that don't mean I'm gonna give it away

Baby, baby, baby (Baby baby baby...)

Part:1  Part: 2  Part: 3

#genie in a bottle #Alpha! Sam Winchester x Omega (Alpha) ! reader #Alpha! Dean Winchester x OFC Omega! Holy Winchester #notmyninth #cockslut-padalecki #ne-gans #supernatural fanfiction #moosekateer 13 #angst #a/b/o #smut #witchcraft #old-fashioned views #fluff

[hoboal87]

I just finished my #notmyninth challenge for @cockslut-padalecki

It's a dark fic, which I'm oddly proud of?

I tend to write drama and a little bit of fluff, and I'm excited to share a different style with y'all!

It also contains a bit of wincest (it's like miniscule)

#notmyninth #dark!sam #dark!dean #wincest #implied wincest #implied top!dean x bottom!sam

[spnfanficpond]

Title: Don't Speak.

Pairing: dark! Au! Winchesters x virgin!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Y/N wakes up in an unknown room and quickly realizes she's not alone.

Warnings: Non-con* smut, oral (m/f receiving), dark!fic, wincest, regency era, angst, humiliation, minor knife play

A/N: this was written for @cockslut-padalecki #notmyninth challenge.

TW*: This is a dark fic, and includes Non-con/rape. Please heed the warnings and do not read if you feel it will trigger and/or offend you. 18+ only!

#guppy fic #submission from primary blog #other trigger #submission #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon