Tag drinking

We’re Closed

Aebli Leave a comment

The Reader is a bar owner to a favored gangster hang-out. A close shave for Officer Dick Grayson ends with a hot night for both of them.

Pairing: Nightwing x Bartender!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: alcohol, slight violence, suggested smut

Word Count: 1060

Note: There was supposed to be more to this, but the week got away from me. If you’d like there to be a smutty part two, let me know. Any other thoughts, comments, and ideas can be sent to my requests, which is open for business. So is my tag list for a bunch of fandoms. Enjoy!

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When he walked in, he immediately stood out like a perfect target. The swagger was like something pulled out film noir. A bad one. And the “tattoos?” Even temporary tats should be applied over a few days so they don’t all look fresh, ignoring how fake they looked.

He blustered up to the bar and waved you over. You groaned.

“A martini, please. Sh-“

“I swear, if you say the Bond line I will kick your ass myself.” You made him the drink quickly, eyeing everybody that was eyeing him. He paid for it then and left a great tip. “Honey, that’s sweet and all, but you really don’t belong here.”

He nodded and took a sip. “I agree this is not my typical drinking destination. But I’m looking for someone.” The bar instantly went silent. The man continued on like nothing had changed. “He’s about six-two, balding, has a four-leaf clover tattoo cut through by a scar on his left shoulder, is wearing a bright blue shirt, and has a really bewildered look on his face right now.”

A man fitting that description stood at a back-corner booth. “Who’s lookin’ for ‘im?” He was a local gangster known for sneaking ammunition in and out of the city. Cináed by name.

The rookie didn’t look back. “Oh, a few people. But just me at the moment.” He finished his drink and swiveled around on his bar stool. “I was wondering if we could talk.” He reclined against the bar as Cináed’s men left their table and formed a circle around him.

“One more time,” Cináed growled, “who’s askin’?” His hand reached under his coat. “Everybody out!” He made eye contact with you. “Sorry, miss.” He pulled out a wallet and dropped a large fold of cash on the counter. “For your missed tips. This is your place, so you can stay and keep an eye on it. We’ll try not to get it too messy.”

You swallowed. “I’d appreciate that.” The last of the patrons filed out. You left the bar and went around collecting glasses. You cleaned them at the far end of the bar, straining your ears to hear what they were saying.

“I just want to talk. I heard about a little somethin’ you did on thirteenth street. Wanted to meet the mastermind.” He sighed and put his hands up as a goon patted him down. He bit down on his lip when the goon fumbled with the bottom of his shirt. “I can explain-“

“Officer Richard Grayson.”

Several guns clicked and cocked into place. Cináed pointed his ready piece at the officer’s head.

“What did you want to know, officer? ‘Cause you’re talkin’ to the wrong guy.”

“Am I? My apologies.” Grayson tried to stand up but was forced back down. “It was beautifully done. I thought perhaps it was your brother, but we found one of your prints at the scene. Unless he’s framing you.” He leaned back further as Cináed pushed his gun into his forehead.

“Is that so?”

“Boys,” you called out. “Don’t make a mess in my bar.”

Cináed nodded and stepped back. “My apologies, miss. Listen, Officer, even if my sweet kid brother was tryin’ to frame me… there wouldn’t be evidence. Try Okada. He keeps encroaching on my turf with his sales. If I’m out of the way, he gets twenty square blocks. Got it?”

Grayson nodded. “That’s what I needed to hear.” He licked his lips and looked around. “Do I get to pass this along to my superiors?”

The boss shared a look with the man to his right. He jutted his chin and the men started to leave, paying for their drinks on the way out. Cináed was the last out. “Get home safe, miss.” The bell over the door chimed on his way out.

The officer drew his hand across his face. He turned around to you. “Can I get a-“

“We’re closed.”

When you got home, your boyfriend was waiting for you. 

“Did you really have to be so dramatic?” You dropped your purse and escaped your shoes. “And what’s with the tattoos? They look terrible.”

Dick was laying on the couch shirtless. He smiled brightly. “Welcome home to you too. I got what I needed.”

“Mmm. And you almost got shot for the trouble.”

You avoided his grasp on the way to the bedroom. He groaned and chased after you. He didn’t catch you until it was just the two of you and your skivvies. You helped make it even by pushing down his sweatpants. When he leaned in to kiss you, all he got was air.

“I’m mad at you. You almost got yourself killed.” You stopped him from saying more with a kiss of your own. “I could have lost you. Right in front of my eyes.” You covered up his excuses with more desperate kisses. He hissed as you dug your nails down his back. He was there. You could feel him. He was okay.

Dick pulled you down to sit in his lap on the bed. “Hey. I’m okay.” He nuzzled into your neck. “I won’t promise anything because I can’t, but nothing is going to happen to me. Or you. Okay?” He pulled you ask close as he could. “I’m here. Safe.”

You leaned back with a chuckle. “Safe? Honey, you are stuck in this room with me. A very scared and horny me.” You licked your lips as he tilted his head.

“Did… did me staring down that guy turn you on?”

“A bit. Yeah.” You straddled his hips.

It was a lovely night, though you made sure he understood that if he almost blew your cover again, there would be serious consequences. Drowsily you played with the ink across his chest.

“You gotta get rid of the tats, babe. They are so fake.”

“What, you don’t like them? I even got one inspired by you.” Dick turned onto his stomach so you could see the rose between his shoulder blades.

“Fine. If you do ever go for it, you can get something like that.” You laughed when he tried to crawl back over top of you. “Nuh-uh. We’re closed.” You pushed him off and curled your back into his chest. It wouldn’t be long before circling your hips would inspire him to convince you to stay open.

Masterlist 

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @hallemichelles @laochbaineann @lavitabella87 @ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @tinyelfperson @zuni21798

Nightwing/DC Tags: @aquaschemer @awkwardlyadorablebeingtooshort @beatlesobsessionlove @boogiebunnies @borntobene @brickwall035 @can-i-feel @captainwinterrsoldierr @cecygee @charzar124 @cherryignacio @chi-mexican-ketchup @clairelovexo @comic-book-reider @crazynconfused @creatures4lyfe22 @cutie1365 @dickswallys @fallen-angel-assbutt @fanficimagine @ggrubi @girl-whos-sick-of-feeling @hoeimaginethis @itstheghostgirl @itswingedprincess @kawaii-satan-trash @kaylaphantomhive @kryptolipsx @mayorofzillyhoo @myawkwardascanbe @nightwing-rules @papichulostan @roguesquadron11 @s0cially-awkward-unicorn @sarcastickpopnoona @shockwavee @soundslikevanilla @starkling25 @supernovares @tamanamohain @thelarkknightrises @the-mermaid-diary @virusiswhatiam @xenocanaan @yandearies @yuukiitan  @buttoneyedwitch @if-youre-not-a-dog-then-leave @minchen0897 @randomadventure @ravenboysandstarwars @roxiera @sandatgp @solsticestorm 

Such a Tease

Aebli Leave a comment

Mutual teasing in public leads to an evening of continuing the teasing in private.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Reader (Y/N), appearances by other WWE members

Warnings: alcohol consumption, SMUT, teasing (public and private), oral (both receiving)

Word Count: 1815

Note: I had half an idea… then Extreme Rules happened and people gif-ed the heck out the perfect moment. It’s my first Roman Reigns fic, so please let me know how what you thought of it with comments, reblogs, and likes. If you like my style, my requests are open, as well as my tag lists. 

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The group of people around the bar’s corner table erupted into laugher.

“Are you serious?” You asked.

“Yeah, we try each other’s moves all the time. It was just that one sparring session that went a little…” Dean whistled and circled a finger next to his head.

Jimmy gave him a gentle shove. “I wasn’t that bad. Anybody can superman-punch if you jump high enough.”

Naomi giggled. “Babe, I know you tried, but it was a little funny.” She giggled again when he frowned at her. It turned into a smile after she kissed his temple. He pulled her face up into a more serious kiss.

Dean poked Jimmy in the shoulder. “Oy, I thought we said no PDA. Nobody’s that drunk yet.”

“No, you said that.” Roman laughed at Dean’s sour face. “And I think it’s because your girl had to ditch you for the night.”

“Well,” you said with a grin, “someone has to work for a living around here, and it’s certainly not you boys.” You gave Naomi a high-five as the guys argued back. Even though she was on Smackdown and you were on Raw, being married to equally hot Samoans had its perks in the supportive women area.

“We work.” Dean crossed his arms, then grinned as a gleam lit his eyes. “Feisty Irish Finn is a job to take down, no matter what day of the week. Just ask Ro.” The group members groaned and begged him not to tell another embarrassing sparring story. But he was already off and it would be impossible to stop him. You considered paying the bartender to slip some tougher stuff into his drinks to knock him out faster.

Then you felt Roman’s hand slide up your thigh, warm and heavy. 

The amber bottle was cold and wet against your fingers as you lifted it for a drink. You let Roman slide his hand closer into the space between your legs, opening them wider. He began to rub over your zipper, pressing and moving till your heart was thundering in your ears.

When it became too much, you took a deep breath and set your face as if listening to Dean’s story.

Under the table, you laid your hand over Roman’s. He stopped moving, tossing you a smug side glance. You began to massage his middle finger. You swirled your thumb over the tip. Pressed gently on the knuckles. You grinned as Roman’s breathing became shallow. You lifted his hand off your heat and returned it to his own thigh. There may or may not have been a pause as you brushed against the bulge in his lap.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Naomi broke through the haze settling in your head. “You look a little flush.”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled, “I never could drink more than one beer.” You finished the bottle with one more swallow then pushed back from the table. “So I’m going to call it a night. Could you call me a cab, Ro?”

“I’ll do you one better than that. I was your ride after all.”

“No, stay. You need a break with your family.”

“They can get drunk well enough without me. See you guys later.” He waved off your further feigned apologies and led you to the car.

You were halfway home before he said anything.

“So. What was with the teasing back there? Were you trying to start something, little girl?”

“Um, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who reached into my lap first. Were you trying to start something, Big Dog?”

He snorted. “Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t.” Roman’s voice dropped an octave, “maybe, I was trying to make you cum in front of everybody.”

You gulped in a shallow lung-full of air. “What about Dean’s ‘No PDA’ rule? Shouldn’t that include teasing?”

Roman took your hand and placed it on his thigh. “I believe I made it clear I didn’t agree with that rule.” Your skin prickled with cold as he removed his hand to place it back on the wheel.

He wanted teasing? Fine. Then you would give him teasing.

You took your hand back and pulled down the zipper of your jeans. With a sigh, you shoved them down your legs. Roman growled and shifted in his seat, but you kept working on yourself. The simple cotton panties were already soaked through. You dipped your fingers under the band and slid one in between your lips. A moan escaped you as the slick helped fuel the arousal growing between your legs. You continued stroking yourself as Roman pressed harder on the gas pedal.

The car squealed into the garage. The door wasn’t even all the way down before he snatched your hand out of your panties and held it in front of his face. He watched as your slick ran down your fingers into your palm. His eyes darted to yours then smiled. You clenched your thighs together at the warning face of the man who loved to eat you alive. Roman stroked your wrist with his thumb, then flattened his tongue against your palm to lap up your juices. Usually, that wasn’t your thing, but damn his tongue was so big. A few moments later he dragged you from the car and hoisted you over his shoulder.

Your feet didn’t touch the ground again till he slammed the door shut to the master bedroom and pinned you against it. He nipped his way across your collarbone all the while kneading your ass. Then your clothes began to disappear. First, he slid his hands up the curve of your ass and under your shirt till it flew across the room. He pushed the fabric of your panties over your hips so they could fall to the floor. Then, while you worked on unhooking his belt, he toyed with the clasp on your bra.

“Roman, please,” you gasped between kisses and pushing your chest forward. He finally popped it and slid the straps down your arms. You pushed both his jeans and his boxers down his legs; the sight of him made you lick your lips. Again, he hoisted you into the air but carried you bridal style. He dropped your legs before sitting on the bed and laying back, alone. Roman wiggled his hips till you took the hint.

You leaned over to run your hands up his thick thighs. Focus. You’d have to ride those another night. His length gave a jolt as you ran your tongue from his balls to the tip. His hips may have jumped too, but you were too focused on swirling your mouth around the tip to remember. Relaxing your throat, you began to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper into your mouth with each pass. Finally, you reached the point where he bumped the back of your throat. Roman let out a guttural cry and buried his fingers in your hair. He guided you up and down his length as you hungrily licked the underside on your way. He began shuddering when you used your hand to stroke the inside of his thigh.

“Y/N… you gotta back off… or I’m not gon… gonna last long.” You watched as he fell back from watching you. His eyes rolled under his fluttering eyelids. You took mercy on him, but just barely. You sucked hard on your way off his shaft. There was a satisfying pop, and then you crawled up to lay next to him. You rested your hand on his chest as it rose and fell with his gasps for air. Once he caught his breath, Roman wove his fingers with yours.

You squealed as he pushed you further up the bed into the pillows. He caged your body beneath his; a cage of pure muscle and tattoo. The memory of how you had gotten into this position bubbled up, making you giggle. You took the chance in Roman’s confused face to grip his length in your hand and twist it like you twisted his finger back at the bar.

“My turn,” he growled.

Anything leading up to this point suggested that Roman would have teased his cock at your entrance for a few moments, maybe thrust slowly a few times, and then pounded you into the mattress. Instead, you found yourself flipped over to sit on his stomach with his cock caught between your pussy and his chest. Your hips were trapped in his large warm hands; you were not going to be allowed to control the pace. He grinned at you, then began to slide you back and forth across his length, slicking it with your arousal. No matter how much you moaned and pleaded, Roman kept the pace steady till you were a quivering mess and droopingly supporting yourself on his shoulders.

He pushed you back towards his legs one more time, then helped you to your knees so he could guide his cock into you. You wanted to sink in one go, to feel the perfect burn of his girth, but he squeezed bruises into your skin as he controlled how quickly you sank onto him. Once he was balls deep, Roman held you tight, keeping you from raising back up. Everything felt more intense as your walls fluttered around him.

“Move, Roman, please,” you begged.

“Uh-uh. I thought you might want to sit here for a minute. Just feel me inside you, filling you up. You feel so good… so perfect like this, baby. So… gah.” He shuddered underneath you as you clamped around him. “Naughty,” he warned.

“Please, Ro, I won’t tease you again.” You brushed your hair out of your eyes to see his bemused expression. “Unless you want me to.”

“Maybe later. Now let’s get you filled up with something else, hmm?”

You screamed as he pulled you almost completely off him before impaling you once again. Over and over again he thrust and pulled you down onto him hard. Jumbled expletives mixed with his name fell from your lips as he brought you quickly to the edge of orgasm.

“You gonna come so quickly, baby? So good for me. Come on, cum for me.” Roman reached over and rubbed his thumb in narrow circles over your clit. You tumbled onto his chest as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you. His guttural moan sounded far away as his cum filled you after one last faltering thrust.

He rubbed your back till the waves stopped hitting you so hard and started simmering down to pleasurable swells. He pulled you off and left you sprawled across the sheets. You heard the water running in the bathroom, then he came back with a warm towel and a glass of water. He helped you sit up after cleaning you off, taking the glass when it was empty. Once you had snuggled under the sheets, he curled you into his chest. You were both out like a light within a few content breaths.

Masterlist 

Forever Tags:

@zuni21798 @laochbaineann

Tags:

@danielle-ferrara @it-is-reigning-men @thiickreigns @imagination-of-a-fandom-slut @that-wwe-image-blog @unabashedwwesmut @wwe-smutfics @mybeautiful-worldrrfics 

Hey Bartender

Aebli Leave a comment

Sometimes a hero doesn’t have to dodge bullets or round up a gang of thugs. Sometimes a hero is just a good listener.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Drinking (alcohol, with minimal control)

Word Count: 800+

Note: I had the Lady Antebellum song stuck in my head, and this came out. It kinda inspired the fic, but it does not make an appearance. Please enjoy and let me know how you like it by commenting, liking, and/or reblogging. My requests and tag lists are open! 

Alcohol gif below the cut:

The shot glass clattered and rolled until you were able to catch it and flip it over. Your vision wasn’t blurry yet, but there were still two to go.

A loud voice cut through the din of the crowded bar. “If you weren’t alone, I’d say you were having a party.” A man that you had never seen before in your life sat on the stool next to you. Tall blonde, with a smile too big for his small face. Asshole. “What are we celebrating?”

“Nothing,” you said, shooting back the second glass. “I’m not interested, I’m not going home with you, and you’re not going home with me. Douchebags who hit on women who obviously want to be alone are not my type. So back off.” You swallowed the third glass with a shudder as the man left. He muttered a list of profane nicknames for you till he was distracted by a bachelorette party. You flipped the glasses back over for a refill and waved down the bar. “Hey, bartender. Another trio, please.”

He hesitated with a worried look. “Do you want to try a stiffer drink? Something you can take slow?”

“I don’t want slow. Slow is not the way of the world, so I’ve finally learned. Thanks anyway.”

“There’s a story there. Why don’t you tell me?” He looked about as tired as you felt. It seemed he had his own restless night. Often, by the darkness of the shadows under his eyes.

“Why should I tell you? You probably hear a hundred sob stories a shift.”

He chuckled. “I do. But that doesn’t make them any less real or painful to the storyteller. How about we make a deal? I get off in ten. You tell me your story, and I ask my replacement to whip you up the drink you need to lay you out quick. Sound good?” When you hesitated, he added the perfect stipulation to push the deal over. “And the drink will be on the house.”

“Sure. See you in ten.”

He nodded and turned to walk away, but came back in a second. “My name’s Richard by the way. But my friends call me Dick.”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.”

You watched him work for this next ten minutes like he was a Nascar race. He moved quickly enough for it. He flirted his way up and down the bar with whomever he liked, and quickly served those he didn’t. If someone was being annoying about getting another round, he ignored them. One guy figured it out and waited patiently till Dick got to him. Other drunken deadbeats had to wait until his replacement showed up.

“Let’s sit in the corner booth,” he said after collecting his tips. “It’s quieter and we won’t be disturbed.” He grabbed a pitcher of water and two glasses, then led the way. He sat close enough to hear you, but far enough away to not intrude on your space.

“What about my drink?”

“You need to hydrate first,” he said, pouring you a glass. “Besides, I won’t know what you need till I hear your story.”

He was a good listener. He nodded and hummed in all the right places. His brow would furrow when he was supposed to be angry, and he would mirror your profanities. Other than that, he didn’t say a word as you poured out your life’s story. Maybe it was the booze or the late hour, but you told him things you never dared to say out loud. Even to yourself. Every dream shattered, every crack in your heart, every tearful fear for the future.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until he reached up and smoothed a tear away with his thumb. Next thing you knew, you were running your fingers over his lips, wondering what they would taste like. With a snap, you pulled them back.

“I’m sorry. The shots finally kicked in.”

“It’s alright, Y/N. Do you mind if I call you a cab?”

When it pulled up to the curb, Dick held the door open and waited for you to get in. The alcohol swirling in your blood gave you another kick of courage.

“Do you want to come with?”

Dick blushed. “Not this time. The next time you come in ready to drink away a rough time, we can skip the booze. Right now you need to sleep.”

“Thanks, Dick.” You moved to sit down, bur popped back up. “Hey, I didn’t get that special drink.”

“I’ll hold it on your tab as the Grayson special. I’ll make myself the next time you come in. Bad day or not. I promise.”

That man is a hero. And gorgeous to boot. As the cab pulled away, you saw him continue to watch the cab until it rounded a corner. Yeah. You would be back. After a bartender prescribed sleep.

Masterlist  

Tag List: 

@aquaschemer @awkwardlyadorablebeingtooshort @beatlesobsessionlove @boogiebunnies @borntobene @brickwall035 @can-i-feel @captainwinterrsoldierr @cecygee @charzar124 @if-youre-not-a-dog-then-leave @cherryignacio@clairelovexo @ravenboysandstarwars @comic-book-reider @buttoneyedwitch @crazynconfused @creatures4lyfe22 @cutie1365 @dickswallys @fallen-angel-assbutt @fanficimagine @sandatgp @bluebirdd @ggrubi @girl-whos-sick-of-feeling @hoeimaginethis @inkhandsammy @itstheghostgirl @itswingedprincess @randomadventure @kawaii-satan-trash @kaylaphantomhive @kryptolipsx @mayorofzillyhoo @minchen0897 @myawkwardascanbe @nightwing-rules @papichulostan @roguesquadron11 @roxiera @s0cially-awkward-unicorn @sarcastickpopnoona @shockwavee @soundslikevanilla @starkling25 @supernovares @tamanamohain @thelarkknightrises @the-mermaid-diary @virusiswhatiam  @xenocanaan @yandearie @yuukiitan @solsticestorm

Forbidden Fun

Aebli Leave a comment

Lucifer (possessing Castiel) convinces you to have some fun before you tell Sam and Dean who’s in Cas.

Prompt: Crystal Head Vodka, “How about we make our own fun?”

Pairing: CasiferxReader, Sam and Dean appearances

Warnings: SMUT, dom!Casifer, drinking (obviously), bondage, Grace use, breath play, all the dirty and dangerous thoughts

Word Count: 1500+

Note: Written for @winchester-writes ‘s birthday! Happy birthday, chica!

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The second you laid eyes on him, you knew he wasn’t Cas. But he silenced your cry for help in a second without even lifting a finger.

He chose this. Don’t make a big fuss and get him in trouble.

Lucifer. You shot daggers at him, receiving a wink in return.

That didn’t take long. Wait till the Winchesters leave, then we can talk.

He released your vocal chords. Sam looked at you funny when you let out a short gasp. You fidgeted nervously as the guys talked with Not-Cas.

“Hey Y/N, you want some pizza? Ordering or picking up?” Sam asked, pulling you back into the conversation.

You swallowed, your voice suddenly feeling constricted. You looked at Cas, but he shook his head. This was all you. “Italian Oven doesn’t deliver, so I guess you guys are going to pick it up,” you stammered out.

Dean groaned. “That’s clear on the other side of town.”

“But they have the best pizza.” Dean nodded in agreement. “You guys get the pizza, no onions, and I’ll hold down the fort.”

Dean looked between you and Cas. “Should we take the long way around so you and your boyfriend can catch up?” You shooed him away, ignoring the knowing grin on his face. It had only been a few months, but you could make Cas loud. The boys were gone a few minutes later, leaving you and Not-Cas standing on opposite ends of the library. He wandered over to Dean’s cocktail cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Crystal Head Vodka. He held it in front of his face, smiling too brightly, to wide, too sure.

“Now how about we make our own fun?” He pulled out two glasses and poured from the skull. With a whisk of air, he was suddenly in front of you holding out the drink. You backed away from him, only to land on your bed. “This is what you and Cassy do after a hunt, right? Drink, get wasted… aren’t you a little young for that?”

“Not as of a few days ago. We were supposed to go out somewhere.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, he was planning on staying in and then having…” he cocked his head and walked to your nightstand at sat the glasses down. He pulled out the rope you kept in the drawer. “Kinky. Never thought you had a dom in you, Cassy.”

“You might want to check those memories again, Lucifer. Those ropes aren’t for me.” You suppressed a giggle as he twisted his head and came back with a face of mock shock. You stood to go back to the library. “Now if we could please go back to the matter at hand.” You stopped as the door swung shut.

“We can discuss it in here.” He sat down on your bed and fiddled with the rope before tossing it to you. “And give the boys an earful if they get back early.”

“You’re not suggesting…”

“Why not? How much vodka will you need to…”

“What? Consider it? More than we’ve got, or could ever get.”

“Now you’re just being unreasonable.”

“We are in here to discuss Cas, not your thousand year boner.”

Lucifer threw Cas’s head back with a laugh. “He said you would be a firecracker. Come on, Y/N. You’ve probably decked these out to hold down serious angel power. If you don’t get enough out of the evening, then I’ll be tied up enough for the Winchesters when they get back. Deal?”

You eyed him nervously. The ropes were powered up, but would it be enough to hold an archangel? With a sigh, you reached past him and took one of the glasses. He snickered and matched your movements to throw back the shot. It didn’t take long for you to become delightfully buzzed. The black rope shimmered with silvery-blue sigils as you wrapped one around his wrist. His eyes glowed red instead of blue, reminding you who you were dealing with. He pulled away from the rope with a growl and stood.

“He doesn’t kiss you breathless or something? Pin you to the wall till you almost fall over?”

“Remember who’s the dom in the relationship.”

He growled again, then tugged the rope hard enough to pull you to his chest. He pinned your arms behind you, licking his lips as he looked down at your accusatory glare.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try something new?”

It felt different, not having the power. But that wasn’t the plan… Any inhibition to fight melted away as he sunk to suck at your neck. He moaned with Cas’s voice as he worked his way to your sweet spot. You whimpered as he pulled away just before he reached it.

“Do you want to stop?”

The glint in his eyes was so different from Cas. And it ignited a flame within that you didn’t know you had.

“No.”

A grin broke across his face, cruel and pleasured. You knew this was going to be unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

“You’re right about that, sweetheart. Now,” he turned you away to bend you over the bed and tied your wrist together, “let’s pull out your submissive side.” With a snap, he had goosebumps breaking across your skin. His skin pressed up against you, cool and surprising. He chuckled, pressing the hard length to your backside. “Dad must have really liked you, Jimmy. Lucky Y/N.”

You pushed back, wiggling and pressing your thighs together in anticipation. He kicked your legs opened, spreading you out before reaching down to your folds. His chest rumbled as he found the slick there.  With agonising slowness he stroked you, occasionally pulling high enough to flick against your clit. He kissed between your shoulder blades and added another finger, pumping you to a slow, intense build. He blew cold air on your skin, distracting you from soaring too high. You groaned but worked your hips till your ass cheeks were wrapped around his cock. As you arched your back with pleasure, you moved up and down.

“That’s a neat trick,” Lucifer panted. He flipped you onto your back and spread your legs again till your toes barely touched the floor. “But are you ready for us?” He teased the head at your entrance, making you gasp. “Yes or no, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment of stillness, then he began to sink into you, pushing and pulling to open you more. Though your vision fluttered, his was focused on you, grinning harshly as you mewled and quaked around him. With a grunt, he sheathed completely in you. You cried out and continued to do so as he set a controlled pace. The rope on your wrists loosened till it slithered away, replaced by warm tendrils that pulsed like they were alive. They pulled your arms to your sides then up around the back of his neck. You curled your fingers in the short hairs at the base of his neck, tugging lightly like you knew how Cas liked it.

But this wasn’t Cas.

You remembered that as another tendril crawled across your body and wrapped itself around your throat.

Are you okay with this?

You’d always wanted to try it, but never thought you had the right partner to ask.

Answer? He loosened the grip and started to pull away, but you let out a jumble of sounds.

Please, don’t stop.

His pace shuddered, then began anew. Faster. Harder. He twisted and angled till he found the spot that made you silent and boneless, pushing you both up to the middle of your bed. You gasped, sucking in the air allowed to you. You were close. And from the feel of Lucifer’s pace, so was he.

Do you know how beautiful you look, Y/N? Quivering under me. Around me. Your hair spread out and your face shimmering with pleasure. The way I can feel your heart thundering in your chest, how our bodies slide against one another. I’m sure you can feel how you’re affecting me. Now open your eyes, watch me as I watch you come.

“Come Y/N.”

He released the grace around your throat, filling your lungs with oxygen. Another tendril pressed down on your clit, circling it fiercely. You tumbled over the edge with a weak cry, a poor sign of the blaze erupting inside you. He slammed into you twice, three more times, then coated your walls with cum.

The grace holding your wrists slid away. You reached around his chest to pull him close, spooning him as he laid down beside you. His chest rose and fell against your face, still cool to the touch. He pushed a strand of hair off your face as you closed your eyes.

They snapped back open as you heard the front door slam shut and Dean shout to announce the pizza. With a jolt, you remembered that the plan was to have Lucifer tied up before they got home.

“The deal’s still on the table.” He broke your train of thought, or read it. “If you were unsatisfied with your care, then the ropes are right there.” He nodded at them tied in a neat bow on the headboard.

If you were quick maybe you could make it. He twitched the grace still resting on your clit, pulling out a moan from your sensitivity. He hummed at you, knowing you were lost completely to him.

Tags: 

@k-s-p-n-a   @tattooedanddepressed  @fightsugar @tomhiddlesmom 

Those Who Are Lonely

Aebli Leave a comment

The reader is celebrating New Year’s alone in a bar when she gets hit on. She’s not in the mood, but he won’t go away, till someone else shows up.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: drinking, slight violence (not between the pair), SMUT, Captain kink, teasing

Word Count: 2080+

Note: Happy New Year guys. Don’t forget to hydrate…

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He kept leering at you and making kissy faces. Anytime he said something to his friend it was slurred. As for each drink he ordered, half of it was wasted when he spilled it over his unsteady fingers. He waved at the bartender and held up two fingers. You readied yourself to get rid of another one.

This happened every year. You somehow found yourself single when it was time to kiss in the new year. Then there was getting rid of the unwanted drunken suitors. Every. Damn. Year. You didn’t even dress up this year.

“Heya, you lookin’ for some company?”

Here you go, and there was still an hour till midnight.

“Nope. Look someplace else.”

He sat on the bar stool and scooted it closer to you. “Come on, sweetie,” he put the shot glass in front of you, “just one drink.” There was barely a taste left, the rest having sloshed out on the way over.

“Not a whiskey type of girl. And I was, I wouldn’t be with you.”

He reeled back, incredulous. When he spun back around, he ended up closer to your face. You could get drunk on that breath just breathing it in. “Don’t be like that. You’re alone, I’m alone, we can be alone together.”

“Being together defeats the purpose of being alone. Now get lost.” Next year you were going to buy all your booze a week in advance and not leave till the third of January.

“Don’t like what you see? Have a few shots and I’ll get better.”

“Joe? Check please.” He waved you away; he knew you were good for it. You were just going to have to make a black Russian at home. You didn’t have any cream.

“You like moving fast? I can move fast. I’ve got great…ugh… stamina.”

“Whatever you say, pall, but I am going home by myself. You should go home too. Ask your friend down there for help if you must.” You stood and donned your coat, making sure to slap the scarf in his face before he could say anything else.

“What’s the idea, lady?” He grabbed your arm tightly enough to where you couldn’t get away.

“Let go of my arm, sir.”

“Why’d you come out tonight if you didn’t want to hook up with someone?”

“Maybe I did, or maybe I came out because I drank all I had yesterday. Now let go of me.”

“The lady said to let go.” The voice behind you was strong and came from several inches up. You turned to see a blond and blue-eyed Olympian. His brows were pulled together as he stared down at the man, who loosened his grip. You jerked your arm away and let the blonde man lead you away.

“Y/N, head’s up!” Joe called out.

You spun on your toes and punched the man square in the jaw on his way to do whatever his drunken mind told him. He fell like a rock.

“How was that?” You asked Joe with a wink.

“Worth several free rounds. See ya later, and Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year!” You walked out into the snow and pulled your collar up higher. The blond man followed you out but stayed by the door. He looked confused.

“Not that I’m complaining about the romp, but what was that last bit?”

“Hmm? Oh. Joe and I go way back. He likes to watch how I disperse block-heads and pays me in booze.” You fished your mittens out of your pockets and put them on.

“I’d give a whole head of lettuce to see the rest of that.”

“Pardon?” Where was this guy from? A 20′s movie?

“Oh, um. Pay a wad of cash.” He slid his hands into his pockets, accentuating his waist. This man was built like a Dorito. Who the hell is actually built like a Dorito?

“You’re not from around here, are you?” You asked, trying to keep your voice pleasant, and not too prying.

“Well, I am.Brooklyn. It’s just been a while.”

You looked at him closer, them felt your eyes grow wide with recognition. “You’re… you’re Steve Rogers!”

“Yeah, uh,” he lifted an arm to rub the back of his neck, “I’ve been trying to stay on the down-low. Can’t wear the red, white, and blue all the time.”

“Why aren’t you in… Avenger’s Tower or something?”

“Tony throws crazy parties. I wanted something a little quieter tonight.” He thumbed back towards the bar. “Didn’t know I would almost end up in a bar fight, though.”

“Neither did I.” You two stood silently as the snow began to fall again.

Steve coughed and stepped closer to you. “Are you rationed? I mean… um… are you attached to anyone?”

“Would I be drinking alone in a bar on New Year’s Eve if I was?”

“I guess not.” He shifted from one foot to the other with a smile. “Would you like to join me in a drink or two? At a different bar?” His shoulders were hunched as if trying to make himself look smaller. Less imposing. His eyes flitted between your face and the falling precipitation. You’d had a lot worse.

“I’d like that. Lead the way, to as crazy or quiet a place as you’d like.” You took the hand he held out to you, relishing in the warmth you could feel through the mittens.

It was a brisk walk in the snow, but he kept slow enough so you didn’t have to trot to keep up. A car pulled up and Steve groaned mid-story. “It appears I’m being summoned. You still in?” He held the door open for you when you nodded. A few minutes later the Tower rose above you. Lights were flashing from the overhanging floor, and you were almost sure you could hear music pulsing from your place on the ground. It got louder as the elevator carried you both closer, and blasted in full force at you as the door opened. A few people cheered and waved at Steve as he walked in. You stayed a little behind till he took your coat and led you towards the bar.

“I thought you couldn’t get drunk, Cap?” The red-haired bartender smirked at him, “what’ll it be?”

“A White Russian for the lady.” He turned to you, “that’s what you were nursing, right?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’m Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand to the woman.

“Natasha. Nice to meet you.” She started making the drink as Steve explained how you guys met. You said nothing when he embellished a few details, enjoying Natasha’s nod of appreciation. “Good job. I would have tased him, but that works too. I’ll leave you two alone.” She slid your drink and two fingers worth of bourbon over before walking down the bar.

The music coursed through you as the booze warmed you up. Before you fully knew what you were doing, you dragged Steve onto the dance floor. He pulled you close as you faced away from him. His fingers slid down your arms as you ground into him, swaying with the rhythm. When his hands found your hips, he gripped you tightly before spinning you around. Maybe it was the music or the alcohol, but his eyes were dark and his lips looked inviting. His thumb traced over your bottom lip before caressing your cheek.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said into your ear. You followed as he led you back to the elevator.

The doors weren’t even shut all the way before he descended on you. He tasted sweet like the bourbon, but the way his hands roamed your body was rushed. Like he couldn’t feel every inch of you fast enough. You broke away for breath as the doors opened again.

“Do you want to do this?” He asked. His lips were swollen; your mind swam with what he could do to you with those lips.

“Yes.”

Within moments you were both shrugging off the last articles of clothing. He gently pushed you onto the bed, caging you beneath his large frame. In your haste, you missed seeing what the Captain was packing, but you could feel it against your stomach as he nipped light marks into your collarbone.

“Condom?” he asked between ministrations.

“Pill,” you said.

Steve pulled away to watch your face as he dragged a finger over your folds. While his pupils nearly filled his eye, you could still see the brilliant blue shining through. Your hips bucked and you gasped as he curled his finger inside you. He listened to you, watched your face so he could know what spots made you more responsive. Once he knew where those spots were, he would leave them for a while before coming back at them to tease you again. He continued to pull and curl and thrust his finger into you until you could hardly breathe from the build. But at this rate, it was never going to be enough. Through your half-lidded sight, you could see his smirking face.

“Please, Steve…”

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ve got you.” He added another digit. Steve moved faster now, humming as you panted beneath him. By now your eyes were completely closed in pleasure. You came with a soft cry as it swept over you. Steve pumped his fingers as you shuddered, growling as you clawed your fingernails across his ribs.

The bed dipped around you as he shifted.

“Are you ready for me, sweetheart?”

You moaned and nodded, pulling him down to you. He sucked on your neck as he rubbed his head over your entrance. He was slow, pushing in and out an inch at a time, giving you time to adjust to him. It felt like ages before he pulled back and pushed in the rest of the way, bottoming out. He groaned into your neck as he collapsed onto his elbows. You pulled him closer to you, sighing as your nipples brushed against his chest. It was almost as hard there as he was below.

You bucked to get friction, any friction, going. He took his time, dragging out and pushing in slowly enough to where you didn’t know which direction was which. Then he snaked a hand down to your clit. His hips continued their torturous pace, but he rubbed quick circles into you.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered. His breath was short and labored. His jaw was clenched in concentration, but his hips stuttered against you, trying not to move faster.

“With my life… Captain.” You smirked at him as he moaned.

You thought that would make him change tactics; instead, it made him more determined to maintain his pace.

In the hall below, you could hear a cheer as everyone started to count down.

Steve caught your eye and leaned his forehead against yours.

10

He pulled nearly all the way out before slamming into you. You screamed his name.

9

Steve’s hips began to piston into you, using all the stamina he had been holding back.

8

There it was. The flame inside you. Even through the brutal pace, you could feel his length twitch within you.

7

You could hardly breathe, he was moving so fast. Above you his eyes were almost shut, even as he continued to watch you.

6

He moved both hands to your hips, pinning them from writhing away from him.

5

You could barely hear the countdown below over the sound of skin slapping on skin and Steve’s grunts.

4

You had broken into a sweat long ago, but now you could feel his sliding against you.

3

“Steve…”

“Almost there…”

2

Words escaped you as he tweaked one of your nipples, sending you over the edge.

1

You came with a flash of white light. Your walls tightened around Steve, milking him as he pulsed into you.  When he was done, he pulled out and collapsed next to you.

The cheering continued downstairs as you started to fade into sleep. You felt Steve shift next to you before getting up. He came back with a glass of water and a warm towel. He handed you the water first, but held off on the towel.

“There are still more time zones that haven’t experienced New Year’s yet.”

“I’m game if you are, Captain.”

He grinned at you, then tossed the towel away. “We’ve got a little less than an hour till the next one. What do you want to try?”

“Everything.”

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Steve.”

A Nightly Affair Part 3: The Nightly Battle

Aebli Leave a comment

Y/N recovers from being kidnapped. She now knows who Nightwing is, but she’s having difficulty keeping the dark memories out of the bedroom. He offers a solution.

Pairing: Nightwing x Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Reader PTSD. Promises of erasing that PTSD with revenge of a sort. Yellow warning.

Word Count: 1700+

Notes: The gifs are made by me using footage from Ismahawk’s YouTube series, Nightwing the Series.

Part 1: Intru-da-Window      Part 2: Rescue  

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“Promise you’ll be here in the morning,” you yawned. He hummed at you and kissed your cheek. “Promise me you’ll never disappear again.”

“Always, Y/N. Never, darling.”

You fell into a dreamless sleep. When you woke up he was there, gray eyes looking into yours. A few seconds later he laid a kiss on your nose.

“Good morning,” you said.

“’Morning.”

You looked at his face, new to you in the morning light. He hadn’t left his mask on overnight, not since you removed it to patch up his face. The curves of his chin and nose looked familiar. Like something out of a magazine.

“So do I get to know your name as well, or just your face now?”

He laughed. “Richard. Richard Grayson. But my friends call me Dick.”

You giggled, “how opportunistic.” His named face grinned back at you as you booped his nose. It wiggled, but you couldn’t laugh. Something about the way his face was so close to yours made you anxious.

Memories flooded in. The Trigger Twins. Blockbuster. His face close to yours, angry and threatening. You didn’t realize you were sweating till Dick pushed a y/h/c curl out of your face.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m here. You’re safe.” He pulled you to his chest as you shivered. You were so exhausted. And he was so warm. You fell asleep again, but not as dreamless.

Over and over you were kidnaped. You started to notice everything you had done wrong. You didn’t look through the scope to make sure it was him. You didn’t scream earlier. You didn’t run for the phone, which sitting on the kitchen counter. You shouldn’t have called out in the first place till you knew it was him. Over and over you were slung over someone’s shoulder and shook as they carried you down the steps. The shaking increased as you fought the dream, till it was almost to the level of an earthquake.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wake up! You’re a home, you’re safe. Please wake up.” Nightwing… no… Dick shook you from the nightmare. You were panting, crying, and your voice felt hoarse like you’d been screaming. His wounds had reopened. Then you realized you had scratched him in your sleep. Shredded him.

“Dick! I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.” You got up and ran to the bathroom before he could stop you. You slammed the door breathing hard.

Your arms reflected at you in the mirror, catching your attention as they laid against the door. For the first time you noticed the bruising around your wrists. The purple and blue welts were detailed enough to where you could see the rope pattern. You didn’t remember pulling on them that hard, but they entranced you. You traced your fingers over them. The feel of Walt tying the rope. You straining against them in the warehouse. Nightwing cutting them. They felt hydrated. He must have lotioned them or something while you were asleep.

“Y/N?” Dick rapped a knuckle on the other side of the door. “Please come out.”

You wanted to hide forever. No. You couldn’t let this destroy you. Dick had come for you, saved you. You were safe.

You creaked open the door, looking sheepishly up at him. He gently ran a hand up your arm, hesitant to pull you into his. You fell into them on your own.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s going to take a while, but we’ll get you back.”

“No,” you said. Dick pulled back, surprised. “I want breakfast, like yesterday before everything happened. I want to have a do-over of yesterday.”

You walked past him into the kitchen and took the eggs, peppers, and milk out of the fridge. Dick took the eggs and milk, then started to make the base while you cut up the peppers. Shink. Shink. The knife slid through the red peppers like they were nothing. The sound faded as you honed in how the red reflected in the blade. Blockbuster had been wearing a red handkerchief in his breast pocket, wasn’t he? Or was it blue? The reflection shifted from red to blue. Or was he wearing one at all?

“Y/N?”

You snapped your face to look over at Dick. His brow was creased in worry. You quickly finished slicing the pepper and let him sprinkle it into the omelet. He retrieved the spices himself. You grinned when he reached over you to get at them, poking his abs when his shirt rose up. He sat you on the island as he finished cooking, then fed it to you like he had the day before. It tasted good, better than before. He turned to put the plate in the sink, almost dropping it when you slid your toes into the hem of his sweats to pull him towards you.

You didn’t say anything, just pressed your lips into his. You wanted to drown in him. He stood there taking your kiss, then slowly began to give back. His tongue ran over your bottom lip. You opened up to him, and he dove in exploring you like it was the first time. He reached up to run his hands over your back. To pull you into his chest. You sighed. Nothing had happened. This was just another Sexy Morning. Part two of hopefully many.

His fingers ran up under your shirt, and you stuck yours down the collar of his to grasp his wide shoulders. He leaned back and stripped his off, but kept you from removing yours. He leaned you back and slid off your shorts and panties instead. The marble was cold against your back, chilly through the sleep shirt you liked.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, making you pant. He sucked a dark spot, then licked around it to smooth away the pleasure-pain. Then he did the same to the other side, grunting as he nibbled. He moved side to side, inching closer to your center, making you both groan as he grew closer. He breathed into your heat, making you shudder. You gasped as he ran a quick stripe up your folds. You bucked your hips against his face, but he pinned them to the counter and began to flick his tongue in and out of you.

You needed him. Needed him deeper in you. You needed him to move. Needed to move. His grunts filled your head. Bodies sailed in the warehouse. Tumbling out of his way as he fought his way to you, grunting and bleeding.

“Dick?”

“It’s coming baby, just you wait.”

“No, sweetie. Code yellow. Yellow,” you whispered.

He pulled back and wiped his face clean. His pupils were still large, but they were shrinking rapidly as he stared, intent on your face. The new familiar sweat of fear coated your body. You looked away from his gaze, mad at yourself for sinking again. 

“Y/N, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he said. You gripped the edge of the counter till your knuckles were white and throbbing. He tried to loosen your grip, but you jerked away from his touch. Leaning down he kissed your hand against the marble. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Then he walked into the bedroom.

You could hear him making a phone call. Kinda wondered if he was calling Batman.

When he came out he was clothed and had some for you too.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. There was a hint of doubt in his voice, like he wasn’t sure you would answer like you would any day before … everything.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Get dressed. We’re going on an adventure.”

Confused, you did as he said, then followed him as he led you down the street to a bar. Some hole-in-the-wall you’d never noticed before. He pulled you down the back alley then turned to face you. In his hand was a small phone he hadn’t been holding before. Had he?

“I called my boss earlier. He doesn’t know who I am, but he lets me leave before it gets too dark. We’ve been looking for a night bartender for a while. And I need someone who can keep their ear to the ground when I can’t.” He tilted his head to look at you.

“What’s that?” Your interest was piqued.

“A phone in essence. Here, it reads your fingerprint. That way if it gets stolen or something, nobody else can use it.” He spun each of your prints across the scanner, kissing each on when he was done. “It also reads your heart-rate in case you are being made to call me or if you are in other danger. Then I can show up but keep an eye out for an ambush.”

He led you into the bar and behind the counter. Already the early drinkers were beginning to show up. He stayed a while, showing you how to use the phone and teaching you how to mix drinks. It kept your mind off anything else because he kept throwing in really complicated ones he had come up with himself. Then he slipped out the back with a wink, leaving you with the owner.

That night you learned a lot about the criminal underworld. And how to make a fantastic White Russian. You were focused on making the drinks. On listening to the customers. You felt power seeping into your bones as con-men and burglars spilled every plan they had to one another. Every once and a while you would send a text to Nightwing with something bigger than the rest. You felt in control. And made a bank in tips. You left sometime around one, then slept without even a glimmer of a nightmare.

A week later you stood in the bedroom doorframe, sipping your coffee. He was still asleep. You didn’t know when he had flown in, but it had to be early. He breathed deeply and smiled, eyes still closed.

“I thought it was my job to wake you up with coffee.”

“Hmm,” you grinned. “Technically I didn’t bring you any, but I did bring an offer.”

He sat up against the headboard. “Oh?”

“How about I make breakfast this morning? I bought blueberries yesterday.”

“Really?” he smirked at you and crossed his arms.

“Think maybe you could swallow some French toast? Then maybe we can have second breakfast in the living room?”

You squealed and ran to the kitchen as he threw back the sheets and leaped out of bed. He was only clothed in his boxers. And already swelling.