#graceimbrued

[asynjja-archive]

          # so he spent the night at her place, huh.   endless edits of special agent moa zhao,   featuring pretty much every unfortunate secret affair she’s ever had.   honourable mentions:   @dukecrocker, @truthsaved, @graceimbrued, @cardiomyapathy.

[paintedlies]

@graceimbrued​     ◭   sc.

    “ What’s  gotten  you  so  stressed? ”  Even  by  looking  at  the  line  of  his  shoulders  Rowena  could  see  the  rigidity  in  them.  But  only  upon  resting  her  hands  on  his  muscles  and  giving  them  a  small  squeeze  could  she  truly  tell  how  tense  Dean  returned  to  her.  “ Bad  hunt? ”  She  probes  further  with  her  words,  fingers  starting  to  knead  at  his  shoulders.  

[imperfectox]

► closed starter for: @graceimbrued​

At the dead of the night, it wasn’t a surprise that Kamiya was in the laundry mat doing some chores. It just sucked when even at that hour she has to deal with creeps who knew no boundaries. She thought by ignoring the calls of the other that they might just take the hint and leave her alone but they were persistent. They were bold as well when the stranger started to get handsy with her, “Are you fuckin’ serious? Are you brain dead or something? When a woman is clearly ignoring you and your stupid little lines it means that they aren’t interested. So fuck off.” But of course, he didn’t leave her alone but before anything could happen the little bell by the door rung to signal that someone just came in. ‘We’re closed.’ the stranger growled, a noticeable change in his voice and demeanor started to change. Kamiya didn’t know it at the time but she was dealing with someone far more sinister that she realizes.

[martyrinflames]

@graceimbrued​ :   can i like request all the actions in that meme? is that too much ????

                          𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 .   𝘧𝘰𝘳  𝘰𝘯𝘦  𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦  𝘵𝘰  𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳  𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦  𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺  𝘤𝘳𝘺

𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘  𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 ,   𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚  𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 .   it  wasn’t  a  normal  night .  no ,   on  normal  nights     (   re:  every night   )     jess  was  able  to  don  some cheap  facade  and  drown  her  sorrows  deep  within  the  bottle  of  whatever  alcohol  was  closest .   although  jess  had  sworn  she’d  lost  all  feeling ,   the  old  familiar  quake  overtakes  her  small  frame  as  she  lies  on  her  side ,   stiffened  and  hoping  for  it  to  pass .   tonight  it  doesn’t     —-     it  instead  grows  taller  and  wider  until  the  floodgates  crash  open  and  she  can  no  longer  properly  make  out  the  their  clothes  that  still  lay  on  the  the  the  floor .   instead  a  hand  clasps  over  her  eyes  to  bring  her  back  to  darkness   (   which  makes  it  worse  as  she  begins  to  see  them  instead   )   and  second  hand  slaps  over  her  mouth  to  stop  the  heavy  sobs  that  the  man  next  to  her  was  now  awake  to  hear .   awake ,   she  could  tell ,   by  the  stray  pair  of  hands  that  pulled  at  her  and  the  small  noises  that  he  made  as  they  readjusted  their  position  in  bed .   she  tried  to  fight  it  for  a  moment ,   but  quickly  surrenders ,   the  way  strong  arms  are  holding  her  near ,   fingers  lightly  combing  through  golden  locks ,   is  the  only  thing  keeping  her  grounded .   better  for  comfort ,   easier  for  her  to  float  off  into  oblivion  afterwards .   the  guilt  and  shame  from  this  encounter  not  nearly  as  large  as  the  grief  that  sat  like  a  weight  at  the  pit  of  her  stomach ,   causing  her  to  let  out  a  whispered  apology  into  the  crook  of  deans  neck  as  the  weeping  surpassed  slowly  but  surely .

[asynjja-archive]

@graceimbrued​ sent,  You drive me absolutely crazy,   in the best,   most wildly frustrating way...  /  (: ――   smut prompts,   accepting.

          𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒,   looking smugly upward and swallowing the light reflected by water.   She supposes it’s a compliment ――   and in return,   maroon-coloured mouth RELEASES the tip of his length that still rests betwixt her lips,   pressing a kiss along the sharp edges of his hip.   Hardly any drop of his seed is wasted,   wet and warm,   COATING the depths of a throat   and tongue dragging over the corner of her mouth to lap up any remains.   He tastes like God…   makes her think for a moment,   as mouth slowly travels back upward,   wet strands of hair brushed out of her face by spread fingertips,   if he knows that every time tongue presses against the underside of his shaft and mouth closes around the girth of his cock   (  slow,   teasing  )   that every inch of her skin screams to be touched and RAVISHED.   Discipline, worship;   both essentially go hand in hand.   Fingertips find the nape of a neck the moment that tongue finds his lobe,   THUMB brushing across his lower lip ――   heart oscillating in the most beautiful, overpowering way;   choking all AIR out of lungs   and leaving core throbbing for anything,   anything at all. 

                                                                       Preferably him.

          “ Do you think you can fuck me? ”     Breathed,   breathless.   Kiss is placed on his cheek before migrating to his MOUTH,   teeth tugging on a lip ――   starving still.   God knows, she could spend the entire weekend between his thighs,   synchronising movement of a head with the desperate FREQUENCY of his moans.   But he has to hunt monsters and she has to hunt men.   An unfortunate reality.     “ Think you can fill me up? ――   or are you all sucked dry? ”

[whitesuited]

she’s never been all that comfortable in hospitals -------------- doesn’t matter if she’s the one stuck in the bed itching to get the all - clear so she can leave, or if she’s the one that’s keeping watch at @graceimbrued ‘s bedside like she is now. there’s been a constant state of dread sitting in the pit of her stomach like a rock for the last several days even if the reason for it has gone and shapeshifted since the shock of seeing him run through. ( she still doesn’t remember much of the ambulance ride over; or how they ended up in one in the first place for that matter ----- her subconscious has been steadily trying it’s best to wipe out as much of the trauma as it can get away with between then and now. and she’s not all that much up for a fight to keep those images in her mind. ) sure, they’ve been in close scrapes before; seen each other bruised and broken. but never like this ---------- never to the point where she’d been convinced she was going to lose him for good.

still, the days have blurred together since then. mostly they feel like one long stretch of nothing save for the ebb and flow of feeling numb and feeling everything. there’s nothing she can do, they’ve told her time and time again, other than what she’s been doing --------- holding his hand while the machines do most of the heavy lifting when it comes to something as simple ( and something she’s previously taken for granted ) as breathing. still, she talks to him, even if the majority of the doctors tell her that while he’s in this level of unconsciousness he won’t be able to hear her ------ needing to fill the silence between doctors being paged and the constant ping of his heart monitor with something that doesn’t remind her of just how dire a situation this could really be. she’s never been much of an optimist, but for him she’s sure as hell going to try to be one now. it certainly didn’t help that everyone around them seemed to think he was a lost cause ----------- the murmured conversations between the techs on the scene, knowing glances between the doctors and nurses once he’d been wheeled in with her a few steps behind the both of them covered in his blood ----------- everyone but dean. first time in a long time she’s been thankful for his mile - wide stubborn streak. )

now the he was stable enough the plan was to pull him back slowly; give his body a chance to rid itself of the medications keeping him far away from her despite the constant feeling of his hand weighing down against hers. the worst part about it was the wait ( as if it already hadn’t been ); it could be minutes, hours, even a day before his senses would start coming back to him. she lifts her wrist and stifles back a yawn checking the time on her watch for what seems like the tenth time in the last five minutes, when she’s sure she’s felt him squeeze her hand back. whatever exhaustion had been pulling her down suddenly gets overtaken with adrenaline and the loudest her heart’s ever beaten. she squeezes his hand again; wanting to make sure it’s not her imagination getting the better of her or that damn optimism sprouting roots where it shouldn’t ------- but it happens again. it’s not a reflex, it’s a reaction; an acknowledgement. “hey, baby.”

he’s back he’s back he’s back. “there you are, sugar,” how she manages to keep her voice from wavering as she coos quietly, she’s not quite sure ----- especially since it feels like her heart’s been caught in her throat now since the moment he started to stir. she bites back a full - on grin, erring on the side of caution ( something she’s never been really good at; but the last few days have made it something she’s had to learn and learn quickly ) at least until those green eyes of his are opened for longer than just a flicker of lashes. her fingers make their way back to his forehead, lightly tracing one of the lines that forms whenever he’s bothered by something ( or as she’s seen too much of it recently, spending the last few days fighting for his life ) before they creep back up into his hairline. “i was wondering when you were going to open those eyes again.” she knows she should probably be reaching for that call button ------------- there’s a whole medical team waiting on this very thing, after all. but before the room’s swarming with scrubs and medical buzzwords and they start poking and prodding at him all over again, getting a moment to themselves doesn’t seem like too much -------------- especially knowing how close they’d come to never having it.

            “i missed you, y’know,” she allows herself a little smile, hoping somehow through the fog of medications still leaving his system he’s able to spot, “missed you something awful.” which sounds odd considering she’s been camped out in this little chair next to his bed for the vast majority of the time he’s been here ---------- only allowing herself to be shoo’d out of the room when the doctors and nurses needed to run tests or check his medications. past that the furthest she’d been from him was the gloomy little grey couch against the wall in his room. ( and even then, it was rarely being used. she preferred to curl herself up here beside him, no matter how much her shoulders or back protested at the odd angles and broken sleep. she wasn’t about to miss the moment he came back into consciousness by being on the other side of the room ---------- she didn’t want him thinking he was waking up to an empty room. but now that he was awake, none of it mattered anyway. )

her fingers haven’t stopped making little lines in his hair since he started to stir, and they don’t plan on fully stopping any time soon either ( at least for as long as she’s allowed to sit here ); they only pause long enough for her to focus on gently guiding his hand - in - hers up to her lips to press a kiss against the back of his hand. saying she’s been worried about him goes without saying ----------- this isn’t the first time she’s been scared he’s going to leave her for good sooner than she’d like; even if getting old in what they do isn’t the norm. but thinking about having to carry on without him ... she’s not ready to cross that bridge until she absolutely has to. ( and even then she’ll be in seven layers of denial about it. )

            “welcome back.”

[nonsupe-a]

“   don’t  pretend  like  you’re  asleep.   ”          he can’t decide if its said because his head is currently stuffed under the pillow to block the sunlight or because he grumbled and gave a poor excuse for a snore when dean first wandered into the room and said   ...   something something morning.      the exhaustion is deep in his bones,     felt it heaviest in his chest and his shoulders that refuse to so much as acknowledge the idea of removing himself from the bed.      no,      its time to rest now,      body says;   its time to forget the world and stay buried under the covers for a while longer.

but alas,      its not an argument his body wins.      its not one he will win and he knows that well,      especially with dean in the room.      already he can feel the flutter that single organ in his chest makes hearing his voice,      an odd contrast to wanting to protest what @graceimbrueds presence means:  have to be awake now.      and instead of fighting his own body to sit up in bed,     shiloh moves the pillow just enough to speak but remains underneath.      hiding.          “   me ?      pretending that i’m asleep ?      i would never.     crazy and false accusations.   ”          there is no hiding the dumb smile he has across his lips now.          “   you might have to come persuade me to get up though.   ”

[conziergearch]

exploit the rare opportunity to request fluff ,   still accepting.

                    he looks tired,   eyes sunken in and skin pale :   the moment she hears @graceimbrued​ kick off his shoes,   she begins undoing the buttons of his shirt.   the smell of burned gasoline and dirt clings to him.   family business,   she knows,  she knows …   and still,  when hands peel off one layer after another,   she watches in silence as he clings to his guard.   the scent of herbal oils lingers,   the apartment dimly lit by candles ――   she’s come home early.   and as though to soften the tension that hangs in the air,   lips curl upward slyly when fingers reach his belt.     “ don’t get any wrong ideas,  mr winchester ”     as if there’s any wrong ones to begin with.   each tug pulls him closer to the bathroom until he’s completely stripped down and saturated in the steam of a drawn bathtub.   she ushers him inside,   before following suit :   quickly undressed before slender figure sinks into the hot water behind him.     “ i’m taking a day off tomorrow, ”    voice warm against the nape of his neck when hands begin to lather the water onto his shoulders,     “ so i’m all yours the next twenty-four hours.   or twenty-two,   i still wanna hit the gym. ”     a kiss,   draped across the shoulder blade ;     another grin.     “ you could join me,   show me how well you pull of downward dog. ”