Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likedillinger) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
theround2014-07-14 11:48 pm
likedillinger) wrote in theround2014-07-14 11:48 pm
Entry tags:
kink meme 1.0
By popular demand...
Our First Ever
Knights of Legend Kink Meme
What is a kink meme? Pretty self explanatory, actually. You request a pairing and a prompt/kink anonymously, and someone else (or several someone elses for that matter) will be able to fill that request- also anonymously (unless they choose to do it logged in). Fun way to get fic, fun way to find fic to write, and good if you're embarrassed to post! Fun for the whole fami- oh. Er, maybe not. You know what I mean! (Note that while this is called a kink meme, the rules are pretty fast and loose. Nonexplicit fic is also allowed, but there is generally a focus on kinky stuff or some form of character relationship of a sexual or romantic nature.)
Rules
♦ Post requests and responses in the comments to this post.
♦ Be respectful.
♦ Both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted.
♦ One pairing/prompt per comment please.
♦ You are encouraged to try and write one prompt for every request you make.
♦ We are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly. Also pegging.
♦ No pairing bashing. No need to wank over ships.
♦ Long and short fics (drabbles) welcome. Multiple responses encouraged!
Have fun!
Our First Ever
Knights of Legend Kink Meme
What is a kink meme? Pretty self explanatory, actually. You request a pairing and a prompt/kink anonymously, and someone else (or several someone elses for that matter) will be able to fill that request- also anonymously (unless they choose to do it logged in). Fun way to get fic, fun way to find fic to write, and good if you're embarrassed to post! Fun for the whole fami- oh. Er, maybe not. You know what I mean! (Note that while this is called a kink meme, the rules are pretty fast and loose. Nonexplicit fic is also allowed, but there is generally a focus on kinky stuff or some form of character relationship of a sexual or romantic nature.)
***
Rules
♦ Post requests and responses in the comments to this post.
♦ Be respectful.
♦ Both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted.
♦ One pairing/prompt per comment please.
♦ You are encouraged to try and write one prompt for every request you make.
♦ We are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly. Also pegging.
♦ No pairing bashing. No need to wank over ships.
♦ Long and short fics (drabbles) welcome. Multiple responses encouraged!
Have fun!
no subject
(Anonymous) 2014-07-15 04:23 am (UTC)(link)des/azrael | cw: blackmail ?? and power games
Des is a lot harder to fucking rattle than this cold bitch appearing out of nowhere again. The voice from the bench behind him only has him setting his jaw, watching the jurors announce the verdict. It’s a constant battle of patience with her—even sass is a dangerous tool that she’ll only turn on him, so silence is best for as long as it can last.
In the back row, Azrael lounges in a red dress, invisible to the rest of the court room save for two. Somewhere along the way, she acquired a plastic container of chocolate covered — nuts? raisins? One or the other.
“Oh, Des,” the sympathy in her voice is too heavy to be taken seriously, pushing straight past into patronizing. “You must be heartbroken. After all this time, they still don’t trust you.”
The verdict announced, the court releases Rafael and everyone in the gallery begins to flood back into the halls of the courthouse. Azrael hangs back because Des does, watching the rest of the Knights pour past, every one of them too distracted by pushing onward to even think about what’s lurking in the rows beside them. The disappearance of the only ones who might point out who Des was dealing with pulls her lips into a bright red smile.
“It really must kill you,” she continues, undeterred by the lack of reply, “watching them put their faith in the very people who are keeping you cursed.” If the egregiousness of her sympathy hadn’t killed any impression of its honesty, her uninhibited grin certainly does now. She steps up behind him, curling one hand around his arm and resting the other on his back, leaning just slightly around him.
As if spurred on by genuine interest, she asks, “Do you think they would have made the same deal if it were you on trial?”
“I think,” Des finally answers, turning halfway towards her so he can catch her gaze, “You better move that hand if you wanna keep it, doll face.”
Azrael makes no effort at feigning discouragement. She simply rolls her shoulders—if anything, the gesture taunts him. Oooh, aggressive. She pulls her hand back.
“Now, now. Is that any way to talk to the only person who can share an eternity with you? I’m here to help.”
Des moves to exit the court room, and Azrael takes it as a cue to follow rather than allowing him to shake her. Over his shoulder, he continues to scowl at her without really looking back.
“You know, sweetheart, I respect this hands-on approach to the damned you’ve got here, but whatever you’re sellin’, I ain’t buyin’. You said it yourself—my curse is off the table. How about you pack it in and take your show elsewhere.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” She seems to consider it for a moment, as if weighing the honesty. Des ducks into the bathroom, and Azrael takes a moment to rest a hand on her hip, looking at the door. Impatient and undeterred, she marches in after him, lingering between the row of urinals and the sinks. “Believe it or not, Des, even I have a conscience. If I packed it in now, you’d never find out about the loophole.”
Des shakes himself off, zipping up and turning to move back to the sinks. He doesn’t look up at her as he points out, “I know the terms.”
“But, I’m not talking about the terms.” Slipping up behind him, Azrael presses her hands against the corners of the sink on either side of his torso, leaning her chin on his shoulder and offering him a predatory smile in the mirror. “I’m talking about the back door that I left in the curse. It might be in the Grays hands, but it’s still my curse. I could tell you.” The offer has her leaning in, whispering it against his earlobe. Gritting his teeth, Des starts scrubbing his hands more furiously.
“Yeah, outta the goodness of your heart, I’m sure. What do you want?” He moves away from the sink, breaking past one of her arms. She straightens, sighing.
“Why do I always have to want something?”
“Because you always do.”
It’s hard for her to be offended when he’s right, but she gives a little roll of her eyes anyway.
“I want us to get along, Des.”
Unmoving even as he begins to yank down paper towels, Azrael turns and leans her hips back against the porcelain sink, rolling back her shoulders and veritably lounging in the dirty, unkempt bathroom. Any guy who said she didn’t shoot the design quality up a few grades just by being in it would be lying.
He throws the towels into the trash can, and she persists.
“Four thousand years … You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”
Truth be told, there’s a lot of things that Des is sure he’s thought about and forgotten. Rather than focus on that, however, he turns to look at her with a flat, unimpressed expression.
“I’ve thought a lot about what it’d be like for an immortal to wind up with herpes, too, but I’m not itching to try it out.” Even as he discourages her, he approaches, squaring off with her, only about a foot between them. Her fingers curl at the hem of her dress, inching it up.
“I wouldn’t call what I’m putting on the table ‘symptoms,’ Des. I’m offering you freedom.”
He’s not that gullible. Truth be told, he knows the minute she starts dangling it: if it sounds too good to be true, it’s because it is. All the same, his eyes drop to examine the creamy skin of her thighs as she exposes them. Four thousand years, and the blood rushes to his groin just the same. The moment his teeth clench is the moment she knows she has him.
In an instant, he surges forward, capturing her mouth with his. Unlike all other things, in this, she waits for him to come to her. Her hand move to rest on his shoulders, one grabbing his collar while the other curls halfway over the side of his face and halfway against his neck.
He’s starving, but not for her. Sex has never crippled him like it does most men. He devours her because he wants the answers that she has—the answers she knows he seeks, and the fury of his assault manifests entirely out of their shared understanding that there is no loophole. There is no version of this where she simply walks him right out of this curse.
But maybe he’s simply tired of denying her.
She fucks just the same as she does anything, baiting him to it. Her fingers inch the dress up to the middle of her hips before Des hauls her up onto the sink with a steady grip on her thighs, spreading them so he can wedge his way between them.
He’s hard as a rock, straining against his slacks, and unsurprised to find that she’s not wearing anything under her dress. The bitch siren from Hell doesn’t have time to slap on a pair of fucking underwear before she gets ready to go in the morning. Probably has a schedule jam-packed with schmucks like himself.
While she trails a careful string of kisses up his throat, teeth scraping over his earlobe, he snaps his belt open. He only opens his pants as much as he has to, easing his erection out of the flap in his boxers.
Thousands of years in taunting, Des decides, has earned her a little torment in return. He slides the head of his cock over her slit, finding her wet and wanting. He can’t tell if her throaty moan is theatrical, patronizing, or genuine. Hell, he can’t even tell which direction is up until he abandons pretense and drives into her, straight to the hilt.
Fireworks explode behind his eyes. Honest to fucking God fireworks and he’s never been so pissed in his life because it shouldn’t feel so good to be in her. He pulls on one of her thighs with one hand, the other knots in her cropped blonde hair, yanking just on the edge of too hard to get her fingernails digging into the side of his neck in reply.
He wants this to hurt. He doesn’t want her to believe that he’s found nirvana in her cunt—he wants her to know he’s suffering, and he can’t decide which one is worse.
Wasting no time on pleasantries and caution, each snap of his hips is made to drive brutally into her, and he can’t decide if he wants to hear her screaming because he’s the best thing she’s ever fucking had or if he doesn’t give a damn—lord how he wishes he didn’t give a damn, but his traitorous cock has him thinking how the only thing that could make this sweeter is the throb of orgasm clenching her around him.
Even without his interference, she seems well on her way. Something tells him it’s not just his centuries of practice that’s making her toes curl in those strappy heels. Each thrust causes more tension to coil deep in his gut, and if she were anything close to human, he knows his fingertips would be leaving bruises below her hemline, but she’s not, so his grip tightens still.
“Curse or no curse, Des,” she murmurs against his ear, words uneven as each rock of his hips jolts her breath. “You’re always gonna be mine.”
Something in him snaps. He pulls her hips towards him and her head and shoulders snap back against the mirror. One of her hands moves to brace against the wall beside her head, but Des pounds into her like there’s not a person attached because he doesn’t want to think about who is.
It’s the fact that she won’t let him forget that finally sends him over the edge, bright colors blossoming behind his eyes and heat washing over him like a liquid that rolls beneath his skin.
She starts laughing.
Des rests his hands on either side of her, palms pressed against the mirror.
“Tell me,” he demands roughly, breathing hard.
For a moment, she looks genuinely sorry as she reaches up to touch the side of his face. Her head tilts and she shakes her head. He doesn’t believe it for a minute. “There is no loophole.”
From behind him, Des hears the awkward floundering “uhh” of Mark. He turns to glance behind him, a piercing glare, and when he looks back, Azrael has disappeared, and his dick’s hanging out in the bowl of the sink.
“Son of a bitch.”
no subject
/violently jizzes all over this post whoops
a+ guest appearance by mark i have to say
also i'm really glad that it was bathroom sex because des was like I WOULD DIE BEFORE I HAD FUCKING BATHROOM SEX in a thread with zarad, and I like the extra layer of self-loathing and bottom of the barrel going on there ok :))
YOU WRITE DES REALLY WELL WOW ARE YOU A CHRIS DOPPELGANGER
no subject
and yeah i tried really hard to decide who should walk in at the end and i was like you know who has the greatest relationship w des for this out of everybody
fucking mark
no subject