#anyfandomgoesbingo

You had known exactly what you were doing when you buried that box in the center of the crossroads and kissed that darkly dressed man. You knew you were kissing your life, your soul, away. 

The deal wasn’t for vanity, it wasn’t for greed. Your mom was dying, cancer, and you couldn’t bear to see her go through another round of chemo. She was your best friend, raising you alone from the time she was eighteen. Thicker than thieves, the two of you. 

Maybe it was selfish. 

You knew the risks, knew that in just shy of ten years you would have to disappear. You would be presumed dead, and your mom would have to bury an empty casket. At least you wouldn’t be alive to see her have to grieve you. 

Maybe it made you weak, taking the easy way out, avoiding the pain and the discomfort. But you saw the light return to her. The doctors tried to explain it, but couldn’t. You knew they wouldn’t be able to. 

The only problem was, as it grew closer and closer to that 10 year expiration date, the less you were okay with leaving your mom all alone. She was just starting to get her spark back, getting back into all the hobbies she abandoned when she first got sick. 

So, around the 9 year mark, you started to do research. 

Late nights spent scouring the internet, mythology books from the library, even visiting a store that sold rare and out of print books for anything you could find that would break the deal or extend it somehow.

You even returned to the original crossroads, falling to your hands and knees to try and dig up the box you had buried there, but it was gone. The dirt hadn’t even been disturbed, like it never happened in the first place. 

The next thing was to try and summon the demon again. No dice

You tried a different crossroads. Same result. No one would answer your summons, and you just knew that the lot of them were having a good laugh at your expense. Poor human girl. Shoulda read the fine print. 

Frustration and determination sent you to the deepest depths of the internet, looking for something, anything, that would help you even the tiniest bit. Chants, herbs, even mojo bags. Everything you came across you took note of.

But the one thing that came up in every single article, every book, you could find on hell hounds and crossroad demon deals, was Viburnum alnifolium, also known as Devils Shoestring. It was a bitch to find because it, apparently, used most commonly in Hoodoo practices. But, after a lot of string pulling and pleading, you were able to find some. 

It was beautiful. Vibrant green leaves, flowers pure and white as fresh fallen snow. How ironic that so much darkness led you here to need it. The root itself, though, was unremarkable. It looked like it could belong to any plant or tree. You bought more than you probably needed, but you’d rather not have to go out of your way just to get more. 

The woman you bought it from stated that you could keep it on you, in your pockets or in a sachet, but the most effective way to use it was to hang it above the doorways wherever you resided. Easy enough. You moved out after your mom got better, no longer needing a full time caretaker. The apartment you picked was the city over, a nice little place that was perfect for just you. 

After you got the Devil’s Shoelace, you placed it above every doorway and also above every window just to be safe. She also gave you a bag of something she referred to as Goofer Dust. It had cost you nearly 3 times what you paid for the Devils Shoelace, but you coughed up the money anyway. 

Once everything was set up, you still had a month to spare. That was the worst part. 

The anxiety got so much worse. You barely slept, flinching at every little thing, terrified that the protections you put into place would fail. 

Then, you started to hear them. First it was just at night. The barking and growling and howling started faintly, like they were far away. You tried everything from earplugs to sleeping with earbuds in blasting heavy metal. Nothing helped. It was almost like the sound was coming from inside your own head.

Gradually, it never stopped. The vicious growling followed you into the waking hours. By this point you had learned to sleep through it, albeit not very well. Day by day as it came closer to the 10 year anniversary, it got louder and louder until it was like they were right outside. Which, as you learned, was because they were.

As the clock ticked over to midnight, ending the 10 year deal, you sat curled up in the corner of your apartment just waiting to hear your door bust down in splinters of wood, or hear the glass shatter into a million pieces. But it never came. 

Surely you were in the clear right? What you didn’t know, and couldn’t find anything about, in your research before and after the deal, was what happened if you could ward off the hell hounds. It didn’t seem like anyone who had tried, lived to tell the tale. So, you went about your life. 

Instacart groceries and an online customer service job that paid enough for you to make rent and utilities meant you could live like an agoraphobic. Delivery drivers brought you groceries every week, and your mother was more than happy to meet you at your apartment.

The week after, you heard a knock at your door. When you opened it you saw the delivery driver, a boy no older than 18 holding your bags of groceries. But what had you going so pale so fast that the boy asked if you were okay, was the hip-high hound that could be described as nothing less than demonic. It shimmered, like a hologram does, and for a second you thought you might just be hallucinating from all the stress you had been under the last two weeks, hell the last year. 

But then it came closer, and to avoid looking like you belonged in a mental institution, you stood ramrod still, taking the bags from the boy. And then it lunged, and you flinched. But the hound was stopped by an invisible wall right where your door was. It slammed into it with a whine, but then immediately went back to growling and snarling at you.

You took the rest of the groceries from the boy, giving him a large tip hoping that he wouldn’t report you for drug use or something. Now you knew why they sounded so close. It terrified you. And odds were that Fido wasn’t alone, especially from the different tones you heard. 

After that encounter, that revelation, you stopped inviting your mom around as much. You placated her concerned phone calls with excuses such as illness or busy times at work. She still thought that you worked at the law firm you had been at when she first got sick. You didn’t think the hounds would harm her. As far as you knew from your research they shouldn’t. You were their primary target. 

You made the deal.

It was your soul they were tasked with dragging to Hell to be tortured for all of eternity. Not hers.

Three months came and went, and you were starting to go a little stir crazy. 

You had never really been the type to go out and party every weekend or anything, but this much time alone within the same few walls of your apartment was starting to drive you crazy. Especially with the wolf pack outside yowling at all hours.

If you ever got out of this, you’d never be able to look at another dog the same way. Which was a shame, because you loved dogs. But you didn’t think you could ever not hear the snarls, or see the murderous intent on that hell hounds face in any dog you came across. 

Any of them could turn into Cujo in a second and all you could imagine was a little yippy rat dog being possessed by one of those hounds and scratching your face off. It was a terrifying thought.

You had just put into place the last piece of the puzzle you were working on, a 1,500 piece one that depicted Van Gogh’s Starry Night, when a knock sounded at your door. Glancing up at the clock on your wall, you saw it was later than anyone should be at your door. 

Maybe your neighbor had gotten locked out of his apartment again. Or, rather, maybe his girlfriend locked him out of their apartment again after he pissed her off one too many times by playing COD and screaming obscenities so loud you could hear him clear as day from two units down. 

Unfolding yourself from your position on the floor, the puzzle spread over your low-seated coffee table, you winced as your knees and ankles ached in protest from the way you had been sitting. Being housebound due to being hunted by murderous hell hounds meant you weren’t able to walk around as much, and you were feeling the effects of it. 

You slid the cover to your peephole to the side, peering through it. Brows furrowing, you were confused when you saw a man who was definitely not your neighbor standing in front of your door.

Your neighbor was a short and portly man a little bit older than you were. This man was a far cry from that, tall and trim with smartly styled hair. He also wasn’t a tenant you recognized.  Maybe he was new? 

Unsurprisingly, two hounds also hovered around your door. They looked up at the peephole and growled. You bared your teeth back before realizing that they probably couldn’t see you. 

“Who is it?” You called out, not about to open your door to a random man standing outside your door at night. 

“Someone who can make your little pest problem go away.” He smiled as he looked into the peephole.

Pest problem? The mom upstairs must have called an exterminator. Her kids always had lice. But he wasn’t dressed like an exterminator in a dark red button up layered over a black t-shirt, jeans and boots. 

“I don’t have a pest problem. Must have the wrong unit. If you are looking for Theresa, shes one floor up.”

He cleared his throat, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “You’re tellin’ me you don’t see Juliet and Mary here?” 

Your heart plummeted into an icy lake as the man put his hands on the heads of both hounds. And that lake froze over when he blinked and all of a sudden the green irises that had been trained on you through the door were replaced by solid onyx. 

A demon. 

“Now unless you want me to send these ladies up to, what was it, ah yeah, Theresa and her two kids, you’re gonna open the door and let me in.” The hounds snarled as if saying they would do it. 

He has to be bluffing. The same way they shouldn’t go after mom. Even you had a hard time believing yourself with that thought.

Reluctantly, you unlocked the deadbolt, then the door knob, then the flimsy chain that seemed so ineffective given what you were wanting to keep out. Once the door was open you stood face to face with the man, staring down the two hounds. 

You weren’t sure who was more intimidating. 

Both looked at you like you wanted to eat you. And you weren’t just referring to the hounds.

The grin he shot you as he strode forward was wholly lupine. He didn’t give you much choice other than to let him in and get out of the way. You stepped aside, allowing him to step over the line of Goofer Dust you had on the floor.

It wasn’t something he missed, clearly looking at it followed by a searching gaze for the Devil’s Shoelace, which he found tied to a piece of butcher's twine and hung on a nail above your door.

“So you’re the one who’s avoiding fulfilling her end of the deal.” He drawled as he shifted his emerald gaze from the root above your door to consider you. 

“If you can’t beat the odds, change the game.” You said, chin up, shutting the door behind you, leaving the hounds in the hall. 

“Except you really didn’t change the game, now did you?” He dragged his eyes from your body to your face. “You’re just avoiding losing.”

The action should not have made you wet. But your traitorous body had decided that ‘hot man’ equaled ‘get fucked’

“But.” He cut you off, leaving your mouth half open with an excuse. “I have been sent here to offer you an, addendum, of sorts.

Again, your brows furrowed. You worked in a legal office, you knew what an addendum meant. Certainly this was some sick joke this demon was playing on you before he kicked the Goofer Dust away and cut down the Devils Shoelace, letting the hounds rip you to shreds. 

“Go on.” You replied slowly. 

“Ah.” He said like he was pleased with himself. “That got your attention, didn’t it.”

You didn’t realize you were walking backwards, or that you were doing so to keep a distance from him until your back hit the corner of the wall that made up the doorway to the hallway that led to your bedroom. 

“My handler, my boss, doesn’t like that you have gone three months past your expected expiration date unpunished and uncaught.” He explained. “Gives him a bad rap, and he's already feeling the heat, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.”

You blinked, and a muscle in his face twitched. 

“Say you understand.” That came out darker than how he had been speaking.

The words couldn’t leave your lips fast enough. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, I could kill you.” He shrugged, reaching behind him to pull a beautiful pistol. “But my boss has granted me a bit of leeway with you. So here’s your options. Listen close because I will only say them once. Say yes if you understand.”

“Yes.” You were shaking now. From nerves, or from the way the commanding presence he demanded was making you feel, you didn’t know.

“Good.” He held up the gun and you flinched at the click of hammer cocking back much to his clear amusement. “Option one. I blow your brains out the back of your pretty little skull and your soul ends up in Hell where it belongs.”

You shuddered, blinking back the tears that started to gather in the corners of your eyes. 

“Or, option two.” He eased the hammer back into place, lifting it up and placing you out of range. “We come up with some kind of arrangement.”

Relief flooded you. Okay, well, anything is better than being dead. 

“How about, once a month I come back here on the full moon and we get nasty, and I convince my boss to call off his dogs.” He shrugged, brandishing the pistol. “Your choice. You get 10 seconds.”

“Option two!” You blurted out, putting your hands up as if that would stop a bullet. “I pick option two.”

As soon as the words left your lips, the incessant growling that had been nonstop for the last 4 months ceased. You weren’t sure you had heard a more beautiful sound. A sigh of relief came after, a weight lifting off your chest.

“Good.” He stated, dropping the pistol to his side. “I really didn’t feel like playing crime scene cleaner tonight.”

“So,” You trailed off. “This starts next full moon?”

He cocked his head, the movement wholly animalistic. “Nope. Gotta seal the deal first.”

The man—demon—moved fast. A blur and then he was on you. You gasped through parted lips.

“I do things a little differently then those assholes at the crossroads.” The hand that wasn’t holding the gun gripped hard onto your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Besides, since you skipped out on the last deal, I gotta make sure this one sticks.”

The grip on your chin bordered on painful as he kept your face in place. His lips were rough but warm as they slotted over yours. It was a world of difference from the demon who had made the initial deal with you. That one had been slow and dark. All shadow and star dust. But this one, he was red fucking hot and it burned its way through your body like wildfire, scorching away most of the fear still strumming through your veins. 

Primal need and lust fueled this kiss, not the greed of the deal.

He caged you fully against the wall, his body pressing flush with yours. Your fingers itched to reach up and touch him, but the residual fear still lingered, perpetuated by the shiny pistol still clutched in his other hand. The barrel of the gun dragged up your bare thigh, the surprisingly cold metal biting into your skin. It skimmed over the soft material of your sleep shorts, up over your hip and under the baggy and threadbare t-shirt you wore to bed. You flinched as he pressed the muzzle into the softness of your belly. 

The pressure on your jaw lessened, followed by the absence of his mouth and his preternatural warmth as he took a half step back. As you ran your tongue over your kiss-swollen lips, the taste of him sent your head spinning. 

“Knees. Now.” He commanded, pulling the pistol away from your stomach to gesture with it. 

He hadn’t left much room for you to move, so the descent was a little awkward and your knees ended up slamming into the pergo floor a little harder than you would have liked, sending zings of pain through your legs. 

“Good.” He nodded. “Now open that slut mouth. Stick your tongue out.”

For a half a second, you knelt there frozen, but as the pistol moved into your peripheral, you instantly opened your mouth. 

“Good choice.” He commented, but didn’t pull the gun away.

You expected him to pull it away, keep it back at his side or put it back into the waistband of his jeans, but no. He brought it up to your mouth. 

“Now, suck.”

Blinking your surprise, you glanced from his face down to the pistol. The metal was cold and heavy on your tongue. It tasted bitter from the gunpowder residue, making your nose scrunch up a tiny bit. A disturbingly pleased grin spread across the demon's face as your tongue curled under the pistol’s barrel, lips suctioning around it. 

You began to bob your head on the gun despite your minute trembling. It wasn’t lost on you just how dangerous this was. You had no idea if the gun was loaded or not, but if you had to guess it most likely was. He didn’t strike you as the type to keep an unloaded gun just to handle it like he did. The trigger guard bumped up against your lower lip, signalling how far it needed to slip into your mouth before you could pull back. 

Your eyes wandered over his body, landing on a noticeable bulge in the front of his jeans. Despite the circumstances, you were very aware of the way your underwear was now sticking to your pussy with your arousal the longer you moved on his gun. 

“Does the slut see something she likes?” He smirked, pulling the gun from your mouth. 

A trail of saliva connected your spit-glossy lips to the muzzle. As he took it away, wiping it on his jeans, the line snapped back, hitting your chin. You resisted the urge to lick it away or swipe your hand across it. Something in the way he was staring down at you, eyes fixated on the glistening on your chin and lips. 

He held up the pistol. “You did good with this. Let's see if you can handle something bigger.”

First you were impressed by how he freed the buckle of his belt so easily with one hand, then your eyes went wide at the size of him when he shoved his jeans and boxers down his muscular thighs to tug his cock free. It hung heavy, half hard in front of your face, and you were so fixated on it you missed his hand reaching down to your mouth. 

You let out a surprised sound as the tips of his fingers slipped inside your mouth, pressing down against the back of your tongue. The unexpected intrusion coupled with the depth of his fingers into your mouth caused you to gag harshly. Viscous saliva filled your mouth, coating his fingers thickly. They glistened with your spit as he pulled them out, using it as lube as he gave his cock a few tugs. 

This time you didn't wait for him to tell you, opening your mouth wide. He tilted his head to the side, predatory satisfaction painting his features.

“She's learning.” He snarked, gripping his cock at the base and guiding it into your mouth.

The taste of precum hit your tongue as he tapped the head of him against it a few times before sliding in further. Your lips closed around the shaft, hollowing your cheeks to create suction. The demon groaned, his free hand gathering your hair away from your face as his hips began to thrust his cock forward into your mouth.

You did your best to keep from gagging, but with each forward shift of his hips it sent the tip of his cock against the back of your throat. Bracing one hand on his thigh, your nails dug into the denim. To stabilize or ease his motions, you didn’t know. The other hand you balled at your side, thumb tucked into the fist—A trick you saw on the internet a few years back to help suppress your gag reflex. 

It helped. A little.

But with the pace he was thrusting into your mouth, anything short of numbing your throat with those gimmicky flavored numbing sprays wasn't going to help much. Aching began in your knees, having knelt so long on the hard floors. It was a dull ache that radiated from the parts that held contact with the laminate flooring to the surrounding joint. Then your jaw started to throb, nearly in time with the throbbing between your thighs. 

Thus far you had managed to keep your eyes on him, his face, watching the expressions change. But then you felt it. The solidity of the muzzle against your head. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried not to flinch. 

“Nuh uh.” He admonished, slapping your cheek with the gun. “Keep those eyes on me.”

So you did. It was a monumental effort to pry them back open. But when you did, he nodded, and the gun retreated, the hand hanging down by his side. 

He groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he pushed your head further onto his cock. Your hand gripped faster to his thigh, groaning onto him. Coughing you tried to pull back but the hand on your head meant you could only pull back enough to breathe through your nose. 

“Almost there, sweetheart.” He grunted, rocking his hips shallowly into your mouth. “You can take it.”

The words, the ragged and deep, sent your clit throbbing harder than it already was. A moan traveled from your throat down the length of his cock, causing him to curl inwards slightly on himself, shoving your head all the way down until your nose brushed the neatly trimmed patch of hair at the base. With a choked sound, you felt him twitch and jump in your mouth as he spilled down your throat. Considering how deep he was, you didn't taste the saltiness of his spend. 

Your throat felt raw when he pulled out of your mouth, strings of thick spit dripping from your mouth and his cock. Coughing, you tried to pull oxygen back into your lungs. Working your jaw open and shut, working out the ache. 

“Oh fu-huh-uck.” He moaned, tucking himself back into his pants but leaving his jeans unbuttoned, tucking the pistol in his jeans. “If your mouth feels that good, I can't wait until I feel what that pussy feels like around me.”

You were already halfway to standing when his hand gripped your arm, hauling you to your feet. “Bedroom?”

“Down the hall, doorway at the end.” You panted. “Wait, wait. What do I call you?”

He paused, briefly, in his pursuits to half drag you down the hall to your bedroom. “What do you call me?”

“Yeah.” You answered. “Your name.”

He shot you another panty dropping smile. “Dean. And I can imagine you are gonna be doing more than calling me by it soon.”

Goddamn. “Dean.” You tested it out, his name rolling on your tongue. 

He groaned your name in response. Then his hands were pawing at your waist. He was strong. Incredibly so. He lifted you up like it was nothing, tossing you on the bed. The air was rocked from your lungs as your back hit the mattress, then it was being kissed from your mouth as he crawled over you. 

His lips moved with a fervor against yours, a need. They traveled from your lips across your sticky jaw. You ground your hips upwards against his, the thin material of your shorts and underwear not providing enough friction against your needy clit. Then, you were on your stomach with a face full of your pillow, the demon—Dean—clicking his tongue. 

“Greedy, greedy.” He said, tone full of teasing admonishment. “So eager to have something in this needy pussy, huh?”

His fingers curled into the waistband of your sleep shorts all the way between your underwear and your skin. Cursing, you were pulled down the bed as he yanked the clothes down your lower half before he tossed them somewhere in your bedroom. Then his hands were groping your ass cheeks, each fingertip digging into the plush, causing your string of curses to turn into a wanton moan. The air from your bedroom was cool against the wetness gathered along your core.

“Fuck, you're soaked.” Dean groaned from behind you, his thumbs swiping through the slick. “This is gonna slide right in.”

What? You then gasped into the pillow as the familiar metallic coolness replaced his thumbs, running through your folds. His hand pressed against your lower back just as you felt the muzzle of his pistol press against your entrance. 

“Dean.” You breathed, half in warning, half in plea. 

“Good start.” He spoke lowly. “I'll have you screaming it before we’re done here.”

Your eyes went wide, your pulse thrumming loudly in your ears. You didn't like this, not one bit. But that panic was laced with a molten heat that had you pressing your thighs together. It didn't last long, his incredibly strong grip prying them back open. The steel nudged against your entrance again, making your breath catch in your throat.

Slowly, Dean slid the gun inside you. You can feel the edges and ridges of the barrel inside your pussy as he worked it in and out. From what you can tell after having it in your mouth, it feels like he’s only working half of it in. Your chest seizes, mouth falling into a gasp as he thrusts the rest of the pistol barrel into your pussy with a sharp thrust. You cry out his name, fisting your hands in the sheets. Pleasure pulsed through you as he sped up the tempo, the ridges rubbing up against the sensitive spot within you. 

The climax sits low in your stomach as his movements quickened further. It feels so foreign, unlike any cock or toy you’ve had inside you. That unique sensation quickly building up that pressure in your belly, the tightness between your legs. Grinding your hips down, you couldn't help the moans that fell freely from your mouth, most of them muffled by your pillow. You could feel your pussy grip around the gun every time Dean dragged it out of you, like despite your repulsion that there was a literal gun in your pussy, your body still wanted it inside of you. Panting hard, each breath half moan, you felt the climax growing and growing, your legs shaking under his touch. 

“D-Dean!” You cried out, back arching towards him. 

“Thats right, slut.” Dean growled, his hand briefly leaving your lower back to come down hard on your ass with a loud smack. “So greedy for somethin’ inside ‘a you that you're gonna cum on a gun.”

So fucking dirty. You felt the rush, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.

A harsh sound ripped from you, hips shooting off the bed completely as your orgasm sent shocks through you. You rocked your hips back against the gun as he worked you through the endorphin rush. It just kept going and going, your eyes rolling back in your head as he pulled the gun from you with an obscene sound. 

“That’s right.” He grunted, and you heard the clatter as the gun hit the floor of your bedroom.

Fabric rustling followed soon behind and then your hips were being dragged up. His bare lower half pressed against yours, his knee knocking your legs wider apart. You had barely stopped twitching from the aftershocks when you felt the head of his cock slide past your entrance. Another ragged moan dragged from your parted lips as he split you open. 

Dean gave you no time to ease into it, sliding all the way home until his hips lay flush to yours. Mouth open in a silent gasp you couldn’t think, couldn't move as he gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back to meet his punishing pace. The skin slapping filled the room alongside your moans and his grunts as he fucked into you harshly. You shivered on his cock as he slid his hand up your spine to tangle in your hair. His fingers gripped the hair close to your skull, using the grip to pull you back against his chest. 

“Oh fuck.” He groaned against your neck, teeth grazing at your racing pulse. “This pussy feels so good ‘round me, slut.” 

You moaned his name in response, fucking yourself back on his cock. One hand slipped between your legs to strum circles on your clit, causing you to tighten down hard on his length, the other cupped your breast. 

“That's right, slut.” He slammed into you harder. “Fuck yourself on this cock. Rub that pretty little clit. Wanna feel you cum on me.”

Panting hard now, you met his hips with each thrust. Perspiration had started to bead on your hairline, leaving little streaks at your temples as they dripped down. Every bit of you felt alive, standing at attention as his hand gripped your hip to hold you in place, the other exploring the expanse of your body. 

That floaty, mindnumbing feeling started to grow behind your eyes the faster his hips snapped up into yours. Near incoherent things were whispered into the junction of your neck and shoulder, but you were sure they were dark as sin if his behavior tracked. You were sure you couldn't form a coherent thought if your life depended on it, too drunk on the way his thick cock was pounding into you. The circles you were rubbing on your clit faltered as you felt your walls flutter around him. 

He groaned, the sound resonating into you, his teeth digging into your skin. His hips stuttered, the pace faltering. A loud groan echoed through you as Dean came hard, filling you with the warmth of his spend. But he didn’t stop, fucking into you harder until that pressure low in your belly snapped and you came with him, screaming his name. 

Both of you shuddered as all the sensations wracked your bodies, leaving you feeling like a raw live wire. Dean released his grip on you, letting you ease yourself back onto your stomach. You hissed as he pulled himself out of you, the space between your thighs sore as hell. Settling into the bed, you finally could catch your breath

The mattress dipped beneath his shifting weight and you looked over your shoulder to see him pulling his boxers-briefs and jeans back on. He was still shirtless, and now you could get a decent look at him. Cut, with just the right amount of softness. Your eyes were drawn to the odd shaped tattoo on his pectoral, but his shirt soon covered it. He bent down to snatch his discarded pistol from the ground, sliding it back into the waistband of his jeans. 

“The hell hounds,” You said shakily. “They're gone now?”

“So long as you honor our little arrangement." He answered, doing up the blood red button-up

“Once a month.” You clarified, continuing as he nodded his head, turning to exit your bedroom. “Do you need a key or whatever? In case I'm sleeping or something?”

The look he shot you over his shoulder instantly stirred you back awake. “I'll find my way in.”

And somehow, you believed him.

They are as good-looking as they are dangerous. A deadly combination of beauty and the beast hidden behind blue eyes.

If you don’t want to end up six feet under, you don’t mess with them. Or even look their way too long.

“Did you put on the underwear I told you to?” 

“What has this to do with the party?” You sigh, as you still don’t know why Scott brought you here.

You’ve been dating for a few months, and you had hoped that tonight, he’d do more than the bare minimum. He’s not a bad guy, but an awful partner.

A criminal too. Not a criminal mastermind, but you already figured out that the small business he runs is far from legal.

“It’s important, babe,” you roll your eyes at the awful pet name. You hate it and told him so before. “Okay, don’t say anything stupid. Or, just look pretty and don’t say anything at all.”

“What?” Now you square your jaw. You don’t understand what has gotten into Scott until you lift your eyes off him to meet two pairs of blue ones. “Oh…”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes,” Scott looks pathetic when he bows for the heads of the mob in town. “I’m honored to meet you again. Thank you for having me.”

The men ignore Scott and his offered hand. Instead, they look at you. Steve almost shoves your boyfriend aside as he holds out his hand to take yours.

“I see you followed our invitation,” he lowers himself to press a kiss to the back of your hand. You shiver. He seems so polite, and kind. But behind his blue eyes, you can see the beast wanting to break free.

“Stevie don’t scare her off right away,” you are a little overwhelmed when James Barnes turns his attention toward you. He takes your other hand and kisses your knuckles, glancing at your ring finger. “No ring, doll? He didn’t ask you to be his forever?”

“No-“ You’re usually not shy, or meek. But these men crowd you like prey and have their hands on you. You know they are in a relationship, but right now, they look at you as if you are their latest meal. “We’re only dating for a few months.”

“A shame,” Steve cups your chin, making you whimper. You never felt like this before. Confused and aroused at the same time. These men are strangers, but oddly you feel safe in their presence. “What do you say? Shall we lead this to a more private area?”

You don’t know why they are interested in leading you and your boyfriend to a private area, but this can’t be good. People like them never have good intentions, and you assume Steve and Bucky are no exception.

“I’m good here…I mean. You should enjoy your party. Don’t you have to greet all the people you invited?” You nervously babble. 

“Doll, they don’t care if we greet them or not. They are only here to show respect to us,” Bucky runs his index finger up your arm. He smirks as you involuntarily shudder at his touch. “Let’s lead this to our office.”

“Scott,” you dip your head to glance at your boyfriend. He looks up at Steve as if the man is carrying a halo on top of his head. “Scott!”

“Babe don’t be rude. We should follow them to the office,” your boyfriend is no help. He’s wringing his hands while staring at Steve Rogers. God, he’s such a pathetic little boy. You just see it now when you watch him interact with two real men.

“Fine,” you snap at Scott if only to end his pathetic act. “Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, please lead the way.” 

“Do you want a drink or a canapé doll? We can ask the maid to get you something you’ll like,” Bucky sits next to you on the couch, one hand running up and down his thigh, the other creeping toward your thigh. He brushes his metal finger over your exposed skin, barely listening to what his partner has to say.

“Buck, did you listen?”

“Seal the deal,” the brunette clicks his tongue, “I’ll take care of the main act in the meantime. You know I don’t care about the conditions. We already negotiated them. You can take care of the details.”

“I want to take over more important tasks,” Scott suddenly says. He glances at you, and then he looks at Steve. “Sir, I agree on the terms. I’ll do anything to prove that you can trust me.”

“Does she agree on our terms too?” Steve dips his head to watch you stop Bucky’s hand from stroking your thigh. “Buck, we are talking here.”

“I know,” Bucky huffs. “All you do is talk to that slimy little bastard. Give him what he wants so we can get what we want.”

“Mr. Lang, you know that if we seal the deal, that you cannot break it. We have rules for a reason.”

“She will agree,” Scott hastily says. You snap your head toward your boyfriend, wondering what he’s talking about. “Right, Y/N? You’ll help me with the deal.”

“I told you that I’m not going to do anything illegal,” you hiss at Scott. “I looked the other way when you sold stolen phones to my colleagues, but I won’t actively help you. I’m not a criminal.”

“You didn’t talk about the deal with her?” Bucky suddenly jumps up to fist Scott’s jacket. “You dare to come to our house and lie to us?”

“I didn’t lie, Sir…Mr. Barnes. Y/N said she finds you hot, and all. She even talked about ending up between the two of you to her friend.”

“You sick fuck spied on me and Maria?” You growl at Scott. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes…I’m sure she’ll help you have a baby and all…”

“Baby what?” You furrow your brows. “Okay. This is getting ridiculous. What is going on here?”

“Well, we want you to become our surrogate. Bucky and I love each other dearly, but I cannot give him what he needs, nor can he give me what I want. A baby…an heir. We were looking for the perfect woman, with the perfect bloodline.”

“I-what?” The room suddenly caves in. You feel dizzy and grab the edge of the couch. “You want me to be your breeder?”

“No, doll,” Steve walks toward the couch to crouch down in front of you. “We want you to spend time with us…or rather between us.” He grins. “I want you to have my baby. And then you’ll have Bucky’s. We haven’t figured out whose allowed to breed you first.”

“Breed me?” Oh. God. Your pussy just clenched around nothing. If not for the anger taking over, you’d gladly jump Steve’s bones to have all the babies he wants. “Are you fucking insane? I’m not a piece of meat you can just buy!”

“We believed he talked about the deal with you, doll. Please, don’t be mad at us,” Steve purrs, and runs his hand over your cheek. “We only wanted what we deserve. The perfect woman having our babies.”

“She will agree…” Scott nervously says. He looks at you, hoping you’ll agree to whatever the two men holding his fate in their hands want. “Right babe?”

“I hate it when you call me that,” you jump up, and push Steve aside. “What did you believe will happen when you bring me here to offer my uterus and pussy to these two? Huh? That I’ll just bend over the desk and let them have their way with me!”

“I-uh…kinda…yes…”

“Pathetic,” you click your tongue as you glance at Bucky. He cracks his knuckles, ready to rough Scott up a little for messing with them. “I knew you were no good. I should’ve listened to my gut instinct.”

You dip your head to watch Steve walk toward his partner. They are looking at you, like lions ready to pounce. Those two men set their eyes on you, and you are not foolish enough to believe that they’ll leave you alone.

If you end up in their clutches, you’ll make sure they only get their hands on you to your conditions. “You want me and my womb?”

“More than anything,” Bucky purrs. He steps behind you to place both of his hands on your belly. “And I can tell, Stevie, and will love filling you up.”

Scott hopefully looks at you. This is the moment he was waiting for. He’ll be a made man soon, and his ex will see, he's more than the loser she sees in him. 

You look at Steve, holding his gaze, “I’ll be yours if you get rid of him…”

Part 2

PART X

Bobby fiddled around with the unfinished box when, bingo, it popped open, revealing a bunch of rolled papers inside. He crossed to the garage and fired up a printer, making copies of the documents then returned everything to its original position because John would notice if anything were misplaced. Heading back to his room, Bobby noticed light still coming from underneath the boy's door and lightly rapped it before opening it.

The elder brother was spooning his mate from behind, which made sense since Bobby knew from personal experience that lying on bruised ribs dulled the pain. However, it was difficult for the man to process why his brother was sleeping snugly against her front, his fingers twined with Dean's, resting on her hip.

****

Bobby is jerked out of his troubled sleep by a truck engine rumbling to life. Moving the window, he sees the taillights as John's GMC crunches over the gravel driveway toward the gate. Cursing obscenities in multiple languages, he rushes downstairs and pivots toward the front door when a voice calls out, "Denver Pyle aware you stole his underwear?"

Doubling back, he finds Dean sitting at the kitchen table with a smirk, drinking coffee. "Don't think you're too big to be taken to the woodshed, boy." Bobby chastised with as much dignity as he could muster in his red flannel long johns, walking to the stove to pour himself a cup from the old blue enamel pot. Ignoring the other man's continued smirk sat down across from him. "Good to see your eyes back to normal. Ready to tell me what that was about last night?"

That sobered Dean up.

He inquired how much Bobby knew about everything, and the Beta was honest about what he'd been told and felt that familiar pang of resentment toward John, watching Dean retreat into himself, knowing self-recrimination was nothing new for him.

"Seeing it's too early to get breakfast from Micky D's, I'm guessing John's found somewhere else to be." The young Alpha shrugged, saying it is what it is, and fiddled with his mug. "Anyway, I gotta keep my nose clean so Sammy doesn't end up in CYF custody. And seeing how you're my warden, that's the parole officer we're supposed to meet today." Dean slid a piece of paper over with his parole officer's info. "Is there anything else I should know before seeing them?" Dean shook his head negatively. Bobby braced himself, knowing the next thing coming out of his mouth would raise the Alpha's hackles.

"Couldn't help noticing number girl shivering in those hand-me-downs last night, and Sam needs some warmer clothes for school; going to get damn cold before too much longer." Deans features shifted, "Bobby, it's my responsibility to provide. I'll get what they need after I find a job."

"Looks like John forgot a few details. Part of the agreement is you'll work for me, too. But if that's how you want to do things, I've got no problem docking your paycheck in reimbursement." After rinsing his mug, the older hunter crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, and decided to bring up what he saw last night.

"Considering we have an Omega in the house, I want to get a few things straight,. You boys have always been close, and don’t care if you still share a room, but don't take me for stupid." A flash of oh crap crosses Dean's features. "And I want to be clear: she's your property. It'll be your decision how to handle situations when they arise. Where Sam is concerned, there'd better not be any fighting over her 'cause I'm not getting in the middle of you two. And give me a heads up before you go into a rut 'cause that's another thing I'm not going to deal with either."

After getting a yes sir, Bobby heads back upstairs to get dressed when he runs into Sam, who asks why he is dressed like Uncle Jessie makes the Beta grumble; this is gonna be a long six months.

Bobby once again wonders where god got their twisted sense of humor.

The building Dean's parole officer directed them to look like a country feed store from the outside. Inside, that was a different story.

Bobby had learned a few things about people's kinks over the years, but this place shocked the seasoned hunter when a bubbly voice that didn't match the decor called out, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I help you with today?"

Bobby watches Dean lean against the glass counter, showcasing a variety of erotic toys, turns on the charm he's mastered at a young age, turning the female Beta into goo while explaining he needs the necessities for his recently acquired Omega.

The shop assistant leaned towards him, putting her ample bosom on display. "We carry all the approved items from the O divisions. But if you're interested in something more adventurous, we have a certified craftsman who does custom designs." Bobby slaps the list they'd compiled on the counter, "We just need this stuff."

The assistant does a quick read and, within minutes, has almost everything sitting on the counter. "Most of our customers prefer to custom order outfits for their O. Let me show you what we have in store; see if any strikes your fancy."

Exaggeratedly swaying her hips, she heads toward the clothes section, where Bobby picks up a shirt and says, "This stuff makes the lingerie I gave my wife look conservative." Dean nodded toward him and inquired. "Do you have anything not so revealing for an O about his height?" The assistant looked confused. "Are you kidding?" Dean shook his head, and her attitude changed. "If this is some prank, you can leave, or I'm calling the cops."

Bobby intervenes, and Dean can hear the testy assistant's insolent remark and Bobby's very Bobby response as he walks out of the store. Unlocking the Impala, Dean opens the rear door and helps the Omega out. As they enter the store, the manager is now arguing with Bobby. "O's are not that big; it's a biological impossibility!" Bobby replies, "Oh yeah," and peers around them, "Tell that to her!"

Dean sat a bowl of spaghetti covered in meat sauce and salad he'd made to appease Sam in the middle of the table, then went to pull the cheesy garlic bread from the broiler. "Damn, that smells good," Bobby said coming from the library with Sam in tow, and sat in their usual spots at the kitchen table.

Reaching for a piece of bread, Bobby asked, "Isn't your girl hungry?" Sam's eyes cut to his brother, waiting to see how he'd answer, and watched Bobby's narrow at Dean's casual response, knowing he was concealing something.

"She won't touch the stuff Dad bought, so Dean's been sneaking her food, but the only thing she'll take is broth." Sam yelped and kicked his brother back. "This true, boy?" Dean affirmed that he had, and Bobby wiped his mouth. "Show me the stuff John got."

Retrieving a bag resembling dry dog food Bobby opened it frowning, "This isn't fit to feed a hog, let alone a person! Why'd he get this crap?"

"It's on the list of approved nourishment."

Bobby sighed, "As long as you're in my house, we all will eat like other families."

Completing more paperwork made Dean gnaw on the end of the pen because the bureaucracy involved in owning an Omega annoyed the Alpha after spending most of his life trying to stay off the government radar. A cough drew his attention, and he saw the Omega shivering where she knelt on the tiled floor.

"Fuck this," Dean growled, tossing the clipboard aside, got up, and getting her up off the floor, removed his jacket and wrapped it around her before helping her sit in the chair next to his.

Returning the clipboard, Dean drew the receptionist's ire and let them know he doesn't give a shit about their rules before sitting down, glaring. He continued until they were called and slowly made their way to an examination room at the far end of the clinic, where the doctor Bobby knew was already waiting.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Stevenson. Could you please have her remove the coat and sit on the table? I've looked over the other clinic's paperwork. Are there any other issues you're concerned about?" Dean tells them about her not eating and the constant pain she seems to be in, even with the substantial pain reliever being given. "Let me do another examination, see if something got missed."

The doctor asks the O to indicate pain on a scale of one to ten, starting at her feet and working up her body. They are pleased that most reactions are under five until they touch her neck, and she throws herself off the table. "Believe we found the source," the doctor comments. They ask Dean to remove the collar, and he admits not knowing how it made them frown.

Dean helps the trembling O back up as the doctor pulls out a penlight and shines it over the collar, finding hidden stitching and their expression changes.

"What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen one of these since my residency. I'll find something to cut the leather while you hold her." Dean drew the O flush against him and gently guided her face into his neck, releasing calming pheromones to relax her.

Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original high collars were redesigned for autoerotic asphyxiation. Their voice fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."

The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.

Part XI

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird  @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys  @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67

"I hope there's good onboard entertainment," Clint sighs as he boards the plane.

Rogers shoots him a disapproving look. "Behave," the guy warns.

"Behave," Clint mutters to himself. "This is going to be hell," he says louder, "There gonna be nothing to do. Nat's not even here to people-watch with me. It's not like I can use my phone. Why can't we catch one of Stark's private jets? Why do we have to fly commercial?"

"Because Tony's jet sustained damage in the supercell hailstorm," Rogers says calmly.

Stark grumbles behind them.

"But Tony got us first class seats," the Captain continues, leading the way up the aisle, "so we'll be alright, I think."

"'Alright' he says," Clint grumbles as he finds his seat and drops into it with a huff. Stark settles into the seat beside Clint without comment.

Rogers sinks into the seat beside Banner across the aisle, "It's only a short flight, it'll be fine."

"Seven hours isn't short, Cap," He says.

Rogers, the bastard, looks him right in the eyes and says, straight-faced, "Take it from a guy who caught a flight that lasted 70 Years... Seven's short."

What can Clint even say to that? So Clint elects to ignore Steve.

It lasts about twelve minutes after takeoff. A few flight attendants start making their way down the aisle.

One of the attendants, a brunette guy, makes his way over to them, stopping beside Rogers.

"Wow!" The attendant says, "Must be an airport nearby, or maybe that's just my heart taking off?"

Rogers looks up, expression a little bewildered.

The attendant lets out a low whistle, "Damn, daydreams start boarding right after eye contact with you, huh?"

Clint groans, rolling his eyes. He could appreciate the occasional corny joke, but this guy was bad.

Rogers lets out a small laugh, probably humoring the poor guy. He knows Rogers gets flustered when people try flirting with him, and even more awkward when he has to let them down. But the guy, 'Barnes' his name-tag reads, will soon realize he's barking up the wrong tree.

Guess he could be glad that Rogers wasn't making a scene about a guy flirting with him, but the man has always been a decent guy, it seems.

"Ever realize clouds envy your glow?" Attendant Barnes says.

'Ugh' Clint thinks.

"C-can't say I ever noticed. Though my experience is limited." Rogers says, face slowly turning red.

Attendant Barnes' smile grows wider, more than pleased that he managed to get that reaction out of Captain America.

Did this guy even know that's Cap? Surely he had to. There was no way he didn't. News groups had plastered Rogers' face everywhere after his return. Then there was the fact that they were on the news every few weeks, helping to save the world. And it was a fair bet that every gay guy probably knew what Captain America looked like. There were other attractive men on the plane that Barnes had completely ignored with professionalism.

The guy knew.

Clint could respect the balls on the man, even if he couldn't condone his overly corny pick-up lines.

"I'm no pilot, Doll, but I'm pretty sure we're meant to fly together." Barnes leans in a little and winks. WINKS!

Was it too late to get off this plane? Clint was done with this guy.

He looks to Stark, expecting to find some understanding, someone else who sees this and is tired. But Stark was deep in his phone, designing a doorknob of all things, effortlessly ignoring everything around him. Unbelievable.

"Uhhhhh!" Clint groans, flopping back in his seat. He wishes Natasha were here with him. She'd understand. She'd complain with him.

Maybe ignoring it all was the best idea. But there was nothing else to do.

Clint turns on his personal TV, looking through all the options available and finding absolutely nothing of interest.

"May I check your seatbelt?" Clint hears Rogers' attendant say.

'What was going on now?', Clint thinks, twisting to see past Stark.

"Wouldn't want a handsome man like you get all scratched up, now do we?" Barnes drawls.

Redder than before, Rogers leans back, giving the guy access to the belt.

Barnes makes a show of 'testing' Rogers' belt, complete with grunting. Satisfied, he leans back and says, "All good. Looks like you know your way around a buckle."

Steve rubs the back of his neck, "Yeah, you could say that."

Clint's seen late-night films better than this.

"Can I get you anything? Something to eat?" Barnes asks, and Clint is glad the man finally remembers he has a job. "We've got nice, fresh bananas... I could even peel it for you. If you'd like."

Nevermind.

"Or if you'd prefer, I bet I could find you a good peach," Barnes continues, dropping a hand to his hip.

"Uh, I'm more of a banana guy."

"Really?" Barnes says, dragging out the word as he looks Rogers over. "That's swell, maybe I'm the in-flight upgrade you need. Wonder if we can give turbulence a run for its money."

Barnes leans in and whispers something to Rogers, then continues down the aisle. "Feels like the altitude’s not the only thing rising..." Barnes says auspiciously as he goes.

"Didn't ask anyone else if they wanted to eat," Clint grumbles.

A bag of blueberries in the corner of his vision, "Want?" Stark asks, eyes glued to the phone.

"...thanks," he grumbles, "I can't believe that guy was flirting with Cap."

"Flirting?" Stark says, looking up at Clint over his glasses. "He was just trying to lighten the mood. Cap hates flying. Anyone can see how wound tight he is."

"What?!" Clint cries, earning a few looks from the other passengers. "He was obviously flirting," he says, quieter.

"He was doing his job."

"I don't think so. I doubt all that is in his job description."

"All what?" Stark says tiredly, "Reassuring nervous passengers, safety checks, food service? Barton-"

"I don't believe this!"

"-nothing out of the ordinary happened. Cap's straight as they come. If the flight attendant was actually flirting, I'm sure we would have heard about it." Stark says, returning to his phone.

Maybe Stark wasn't the most reliable judge in this situation. He'd obviously missed all the signs while working on his project.

Clint looks across the aisle. Steve was staring into the space in front of him. Bruce was deep in a book, headphones on.

Was he really the only one who noticed?

If Natasha were here...

Only a little less than seven hours to go. Clint lets out a heavy sigh and goes back to looking through the available movies.

He gets ten minutes into Top Gun: Maverick when Rogers gets up, muttering about the bathroom. Clint ignores him.

'Yeah, time was really flying, wasn't it, Cap?' he thinks, glaring at the back of Rogers' head as he goes.

When he can no longer see the man to glare at him, Clint crosses his arms and returns to his movie.

After a while, Clint manages to get into the movie. He doesn't know how long has passed when one of the passengers starts causing a fuss with one of the flight attendants.

Clint pauses his movie to listen in.

Apparently, the passenger can't use the bathroom because it's locked. And they want the Attendant to unlock it. Apparently, using the bathroom in the cabin down isn't good enough.

Clint rolls his eyes.

Just as he goes to hit play, he hears an important bit of information about the bathroom situation.

The door is locked because someone is fucking in there. Oh-kay!

Clint looks over to the others and notices that Rogers is still gone. 'Oh.'

...Bastard.

Clint looks to Stark, hoping at least to watch the pin drop.

Stark throws his hands up in frustration. "Don't look at me," Stark says, "I'm sitting here, I'm not the one having sex."

"And where is Rogers?"

"I don’t know?" Stark says, looking baffled at the question, "Maybe he was invited into the cockpit to see the pilots? Who knows? I don't care."

Clint's disappointed.

'You know what? Nat is partially to blame,' he thinks to himself. Well, not really, but he doesn't care. If she were here, he'd have someone to gossip with. He glares at the locked bathroom and thinks, 'I'm not going to tell Nat. Let her still try to unsuccessfully match Rogers with girls.'

Morning Light

How many times had he dreamed about this; dreamt of Arthur’s bed, of being able to stay long past undressing him? Merlin shifted accustomed to waking early even now, watching the first lights of the morning shine through the painted windows and over the golden locks beside him. 

The warlock sat up slowly, letting the thin sheets that covered them slip from his shoulders and slide down Arthur's half-clothed body. The raven-haired man watched as Arthur turned more into his back and away from him at the loss of bedding. 

Merlin's gaze roved over the other’s untied nightshirt, his neckline loose around his collar, baring the smattering of marks he had left throughout the night. A smile drifted across his lips as his gaze took in the picture of Arthur as he looked back to his peaceful sleeping face. Neither of them had managed more than a quick wash and pulling on their nightshirts before falling into a sated and drunken sleep. The smile on his lips grew as his eyes wandered over the signs of their union on the royal amongst the soft bedding. Arthur was stunning, he always was, but like this he was breathtaking. His body was vulnerable and relaxed, especially with the way the light hit him as the sun continued to rise. The blonde lay haloed in the multicolored light that filtered through the stained-glass window beside the bed. 

He admitted, at least to himself, that he was more than a little biased on the matter as he shifted on the bed, unable to resist the inviting tent of the blonde's mid-thigh length nightshirt. The warlock carefully crawled his way over the soft linens, trying not to disturb the sleeping man. His hands were careful not to jostle him as he bent closer.

With a glance behind her, she took a deep breath as she watched her co-worker for the evening push the cart of VHS tapes down the aisle, stacking them back on the shelves. Steve Harrington. Yet another reason she wanted a few more customers to come in, so she didn’t have to be completely alone with him. It wasn’t because she didn’t like him, but because she did. A little too much maybe.

He had joined the team along with Robin about 5 months ago, and while Keith hadn’t been thrilled about Steve as a new addition, she definitely was. Or at least she had been at the time. The crush settled in pretty quickly, and she had hoped that he would notice, but he hadn’t. So, she did what she did best, pushed down her feelings and ignored the ache in her heart.

“Alright, I’ve put back every single tape that was in the office,” Steve informed as he took the same position as her against the counter, “can’t we just call it a night? I really don’t think anyone’s braving the rain.”

“You’re already on Keith’s bad side, do you really wanna mess with that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought you had my back with him,” he countered, turning to face her as he placed his hands on hips, his eyes locked on hers.

“I mean, I usually do. But see, if I let you leave early and Keith asks, I’m gonna have to cover for your ass… and I just risk my own this time, Stevie,” she teased, a smirk pulling at her lips as she turned to him.

“Okay, well… then we just cover each other’s asses,” he suggested, leaning his elbow on the counter as he continued to face her.

She chortled, staring up at him before she shook her head, stepping away from him. “That’s some idea, Steve Harrington.”

“See, you’re being sarcastic but I really think there’s something to it-” he started to explain himself, but stopped as she grabbed his hand and dragged him behind her.

“I bet there is, but how ‘bout you help me sort the posters that came in this morning,” she interjected, pulling him into the back office.

Y/N walked into the room with Steve in tow, the desk covered with rolled up posters for the movies that they would have available at Family Video. She dropped his arm as she stood in front of the table, shuffling the pile in half as she moved one set closer to him.

“Alright, let’s open them and see what we got, then we can decide which ones go where,” she instructed, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he breathed, quickly getting started.

They took several minutes as they unrolled all the posters, seeing what they had and where in the store they were going to put them up. Y/N took the ones that they weren’t going to use and put them aside, keeping the ten that they were going to put up open with paperweights.

“I think we should put these four in the window,” she stated, pointing them out. “And these six inside, two on each wall.”

“Okay,” Steve said, removing the weights and picking up the first poster.

Y/N yelped as the corner of the paper nicked the top of her finger, causing her to flinch and pull her hand back. She looked down, trying to see if the skin had broken and if there was any blood.

“Oh shit, s-sorry,” he stuttered, moving over to her and quickly taking her hand in his. “You okay?”

She gulped, the feeling of his skin against hers having more of an effect on her than the paper. “Y-Yeah. No blood. I’m good.”

“Good,” he muttered, as he gave her a once over. “Those papercuts can be nasty.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, looking down at their hands.

Steve’s thumb brushed over her knuckles as their hands remained locked, neither of them pulling away. Her mind was reeling, and she knew she should’ve moved away from him but she couldn’t bring herself to. His fingers pressed against hers, feeling how soft her skin was. She didn’t even know that he felt the same way, and he had since the moment they met on his first day of work. It was as fast as a bullet, and he had only felt like that once before. Nancy Wheeler, second semester senior year. It was different to Nancy, though, and he knew that was a good thing but he was too scared that he would get burned like he had previously.

But he had to start letting that go.

Steve leaned in slowly, the gasp leaving her before he pressed his lips to hers making him smile a little as they kissed. It was soft, gentle, amazing. Along with that, it was far too brief as Y/N pulled away first, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that-” he began to apologize, thinking that he misread the moment, but she stopped him by shaking her head, tugging on his green work vest.

“No,” she breathed, her lips pulling up into a smile. “I’m just surprised. I liked it, though.”

“Me too,” he added, smirking. “I like you, Y/N. So much.”

She huffed in disbelief, a small giggle escaping her. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he replied, before dipping his head once more.

She met him halfway, their lips moving against each other’s in a passionate kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pushed herself closer to him, his hands sliding down her back and onto her hips. He shifted her backwards towards the desk, his right hand leaving her and swiping the posters off the surface, sitting her down on top. Her legs wrapped around him as she reached for his work vest, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall on the floor. Their lips continued to move sensually as her hands slid down his chest, tugging at his shirt that was tucked into his jeans, but he stopped her, his fingers clasping hers.

“We shouldn’t do it like this,” he stated, softly once he pulled away. “I mean, I should at least take you on a date first, right?”

She smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and stared into his eyes. “You should… but not right now.”

He smirked, leaning in once more and kissing her, with as much passion as when their lips first touched. When she reached for his shirt again, he didn’t stop her, briefly pulling away to let her take it off him. She gasped softly as her hands slid down his soft, alabaster skin, feeling the ripple of his muscles. Their mouths met again as he pushed her Family Video jacket off her shoulders, her arms moving back to let it slip down and onto the floor. The kiss became heated just as her movements became frantic, not wanting to waste any more time. She laid back on the desk and pulled him close once he leaned over her. His lips left gentle pecks along her jaw and neck, his fingers plucking the buttons of her shirt open and exposing her white lace bra and more of her skin to pay attention to.

“Steve,” she breathed, her fingers combing through his incredible locks as he drifted down her body. “I-I”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he muttered, leaving a kiss over her ribcage just as his eyes glanced up at her.

She gulped as she looked back at him, the glint in his eyes and the way she had always wished to hear him call her ‘baby’ being too much for her in that moment. She couldn’t think straight.

“I n-need, need your mouth,” she gasped, feeling his lips brush over her skin in the most delicious way possible.

“Here?” he asked as he placed a soft kiss to her stomach.

She groaned slightly. “L-Lower.”

“Oh,” he smirked, slowly unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down sensually. He nipped at the flesh over her hip, a low chuckle leaving him as she jumped. “There?”

“Steve, please,” she whimpered, tugging lightly at his hair. “Don’t tease me anymore, please…”

He laughed again as he continued to remove the denim along with her panties, throwing them on the floor. He didn’t bother to remove her sneakers as he was far too impatient to get his mouth on her. He felt his cock swell, straining against his jeans but he wanted to pay attention to her first. He really did like her, and if he couldn’t take her on a first date before doing this, then he at least had to show her he cared in other ways. Y/N’s head tilted back and scraped lightly against the desk, a loud moan escaping her as his tongue licked a long stripe against her sex. Her calves rested on his shoulders as he shifted closer to her, his skilled muscle continuing to move over her folds. He groaned at the taste of her arousal as it met his tongue, the sounds vibrating against her and making her fingers clench in his luscious locks.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed. “Steve, that feels so good.”

He pulled away briefly, kissing her inner thigh as he peered up at her. “You taste so good, honey. Wanna feel you cum on my tongue. You can do that for me, can’t you, baby?”

“Y-Yeah,” she stuttered, glancing down at him.

Steve continued his ministrations, bringing her the most euphoric feeling she had ever experienced as his tongue moved to her clit, running circles around it as he grabbed her hips tight in his hands. She pushed herself up one elbow, moaning as she bit her lip, watching the way he pleasured her. He picked up the pace, causing her to throw her head back with a lustful whimper, her hips rocking against him, grinding against his mouth.

“Fuck, yes, oh, Steve,” she moaned, wantonly. She held him in place by gripping his hair, wanting to get him as close as possible and hoping he didn’t pull away. “Oh god, r-right there…”

He alternated between paying attention to the bundle of nerves and her folds, moving his tongue faster. Short puffs of air left her as she became overwhelmed by what she was feeling, while he was like a man starved, relentless with his talented muscle as he brought her closer to the edge. She felt her core tighten and she knew she was close, her pelvis continuing to grind against him as she chased her release.

“Oh god, S-Steve, I-I’m close,” she cried out, her hands so tight in his hair she feared she’d pull out a few of those precious strands.

“Cum for me, honey, wanna feel it,” he muttered against her sex as he pulled away slightly, before he picked up where he left off.

She felt the pressure build up as waves of pleasure washed over her, and it was only a matter of moments before she fell over the edge, her arousal covering his tongue and mouth. He grunted against her as he lapped at everything she had to give him, making her shiver with a small moan leaving her. She breathed heavily as she giggled, her fingers combing his hair back while he shifted away slightly, their eyes meeting.

“That was…” she started, biting her lip to keep herself from grinning. She couldn’t stop herself though. “I think I saw stars.”

“Well, that was the goal,” he said, standing up between her legs, bringing them around his waist.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as his moved around her, pulling her close as they kissed, passionately. She moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, her arousal growing as they continued their embrace. They were too caught up in their need for each other to hear the bell above the entrance to the store ring.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she ripped her mouth away from Steve’s, pushing him away and getting off the desk, picking up her jeans. He took his vest and put it on, as he was more decent than her at that point.

“You get ready, I’ll handle this,” he promised, kissing her cheek.

“Thank you,” she blushed. She loved how sweet he was and she couldn’t wait to see where things went with them.

He tucked his shirt back in, wiped his mouth and fixed his vest, looking her over once more and winking. She was amazing and he couldn’t believe that he finally got to be with her, but he was going to make sure he earned that. With one last look between them, he walked out of the office, clicking his fingers as he shook his head, smiling.