....Of Course It's When I Decide To Skip A Proper Mardi Gras....work Got In The Way, Ugh

This is beyond gorgeous and deserves more likes/reblogs

😍😍😍

Painting I did an all-nighter for to finish. This shot of Santiago “Pope” was an image conjured from my brain, and I couldn’t resist painting it. Hope you like :D 

All for now, Hulia out xo

Stitches

I went and got a new tattoo recently. The only way the artist could get to the spot was to sit behind and straddle me and he felt so awkward. However, it gave me the idea for this fic:

The Mandalorian stitches your back after a battle with a bounty.

This is my first time writing for the Mandalorian and first time posting to tumblr.

Read on Ao3

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Soft and Light & Dark and Hard

Warnings: Implied Smut. Some dirty talk.  Purgatory!Dean. (Look at that gif - it needs a warning!) Canon type violence.

Summary: What happened between when Dean popped out of purgatory and when he resurrected Benny. There's a "four days later" section of time that is unaccounted for. This is my attempt to fill that time.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2685

A/N: This was an idea that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.

I LOVE Purgatory!Dean. Hope you enjoy - there might be a sequel.

😉 Unbeta’d. All mistakes are mine. 😊

Y/N’s dad would have been very disappointed in her. She was no hunter, he’d made sure of that, but he’d certainly taught her to keep her wits about her and made sure she knew how to protect herself.

Yet, here she was, slammed against the cabin wall, with what felt like a band of iron at her throat. The man’s forearm wasn’t crushing her windpipe, but it was pressing hard enough that if she struggled at all, she would crush it herself. She was made completely immobile by him. He towered over her, pinning her body against the wall easily with his own, much larger one.

She stared up at him and, despite her best efforts, knew her terror was evident.

The man was filthy, covered in blood and mud. His face was almost obscured by it, his brilliant green eyes sparkling dangerously out of the mostly dark, late evening.

She looked down at the massive fist that held a knife to her heart and was suddenly sure she was going to die at the hands of this bloody stranger. Without warning she felt tears well up in her eyes. It wasn’t often that she cried, but she’d promised her father she would take care of herself and stay safe and she hadn’t even lasted a full week without him.

She closed her eyes and felt a tear escape to trickle down her cheek.

Suddenly the weight of the man’s body was gone. She opened her eyes in time to see him take his forearm from her throat and step back.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice a literal growl. It was exactly what she had expected this man to sound like.

She tried to rally her scattered, terrified senses and take stock of the new situation. The man had let her go, he was still holding the knife, but it was lowered at his side. Progress.

“Y/N.” She answered, stuttering slightly.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice less of a growl, but still impossibly deep.

“I…this is where I live.” Y/N said, which wasn’t one hundred percent accurate, but it was close to the truth and she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t anger him.

The man’s scowl deepened, Y/N hadn’t believed that to be possible. “This is Rufus Turner’s cabin. Are you related to Rufus somehow?”

A light bulb went off and Y/N began to understand; at least she hoped she did.

“I’m sorry. No…I…yes, it was Rufus’ cabin. But…I don’t know if you know, he’s…he’s passed away now. My Dad told me about the cabin a little while ago and when I had nowhere else to go, I came here. I’ve been here about a week and…well, it’s started to feel like home I guess. And my attention was…well, I was distracted coming back up here. I didn’t know you were in here until I came through the door, or I would have let you know I was coming, called out or something. But the…the lights were all off.”

She knew she was rambling. The man’s utter stillness and intense stare were very disconcerting and when she was nervous she tended to babble.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “You’re…you’re a hunter, aren’t you? A friend of Rufus’? My Dad told me other hunters used the cabin sometimes too.”

The man was silent for another minute, long enough to make Y/N begin to squirm. His piercing green gaze was unnerving but also slightly mesmerizing and Y/N began to feel a little like she was in a trance.

Finally she saw the man relax ever so slightly, and put the knife away in an inside pocket of his dirty leather coat.

“Yes.”

He’d been silent so long it took Y/N a moment to remember what she’d asked. But then she remembered he was confirming he was hunter and a friend of Rufus’.

“You can’t stay here.” The man said bluntly before turning away to light the two kerosene lamps that sat on the table.

“What, why?” Y/N asked, taken aback.

“Because I’m staying here.”

Y/N’s fear of the man fled in the face of his absolute audacity.

“Um…excuse me…you don’t own this cabin. Rufus left it for any hunters to use, not just you.”

The man turned back to face her and in the now bright room she could see, even through the layers of muck and blood, that the man standing in front of her was unbelievably beautiful.

His face was sculpted into perfect lines and planes, like a master artist had carved him out. His jaw was strong, cut square and sharp and his cheekbones were high and flawlessly chiseled. His lips, however, were molded by more gentle hands, full and lush. Y/N was suddenly aware of a desperate desire to run her thumb across his ripe bottom lip, something she didn’t think she had ever desired in her life before.

It took Y/N a moment to realize the man had said something, asked her a question maybe? Her brain was suddenly mush and she had to give herself a little shake to recover.

“What?” she asked stupidly, realizing her distracted response was likely undercutting her argument a little.

“Are you a hunter?” The man asked again, annoyance clear in his tone.

Y/N was tempted to lie and say yes, but she was nearly positive this man would see right through her.

“No. But…”

“Exactly. Then Rufus didn’t leave you anything.” The man said, turning away to the table again to begin rummaging through a backpack that sat there.

Y/N could feel her temper flare again at the man’s abrupt dismissal. She folded her arms and began to tap her foot.

“I don’t see why we can’t just both stay here. There’s plenty of room.”

“Because I have crap to do and I don’t need a civilian getting in my way.” The man answered in his growling voice again as he swiveled back around to face her.

Y/N stomped up to him. She wished she’d stopped a little further back so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck quite so much to look up at him, feeling, inexplicably, that his immense height gave him a slight advantage in the argument.

Y/N tried to make up for this by pushing a finger into the middle of his chest. “Look, buddy. I may not be a hunter, but I’m hardly a civilian. My dad’s been a hunter my whole life. I know what goes bump in the night okay.”

The man scoffed and flicked her finger off of him like she was a bothersome fly. “Great why don’t you call your dad to come get you out of my hair?”

“Because I burned his body to ash a week ago.”

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth as though she’d said a bad word, or spilled a secret. She was silent for a minute, her mind reeling.

She shook her head and spoke from behind her hand. “That’s…I didn’t mean to…” she sat suddenly, glad there happened to be a chair behind her.

Her hand fell into her lap. “That’s the first time I’ve said it… that…that he’s dead. I haven’t heard the words.”

Y/N felt her throat constrict around the lump of unshed tears forming there. She looked up at the man standing in front of her, his expression inscrutable. She smiled weakly.

“Sorry about this.” She waved her hand toward herself. “It’s been a hard week.”

The man tilted his head slightly before he sighed deeply and pulled up the other chair and sat. He rubbed his hand across his face. “Yeah, me too.”

A silent moment passed before he spoke again. “What was his name, your dad?”

Y/N swiped at the two tears that had managed to escape, marveling at the fact that she had now cried twice in front of this stranger. That was more tears than she had shed in years.

“Steven Lane.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t know him.” He caught Y/N’s gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, me too.” She said, echoing his earlier statement. A sudden realization dawned on her. “I don’t even know your name. Sorry, I didn’t ask. Rude.” She smiled.

He didn’t return the smile, but stared at her hard for a minute. She soon realized her mistake; most hunters didn’t like to give out a lot of information to strangers.

“Sorry.” She said quickly. “You don’t…”

“Dean.” He interrupted.

Y/N nodded absently for a second before her eyes widened and her mouth dropped into an “O”. Fragments of information began to filter into her mind and she started to piece them together. His size, his speed and agility when he’d pounced on her coming in the door, his fierce demeanor, his aura of power and strength, his ridiculous good looks.

His bright green eyes.

“Winchester?” She asked in a whisper before answering herself. “You’re Dean Winchester.”

She’d heard the stories of the Winchesters almost her whole life. First John. Then Sam…and Dean.

He nodded abruptly and looked away. She was suddenly, acutely aware that she was basically fangirling over him. She shook her head and tried to get a grip.

“Sorry.” She said, apologizing for what felt like the hundredth time since coming through the door. “I...it’s just…I know who you are.”

Then one more piece of information filtered into her frazzled mind. “I thought you were dead.”

Dean slapped his palms onto his thighs before rising from the chair. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He grabbed up the backpack from the table and moved toward the couch. “Look, I just need the day tomorrow and then I’ll be out of here. But I don’t want to answer a lot of questions okay, so let’s just stay out of each other’s way.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Sure, we can draw a line down the center of the cabin a la ‘I Love Lucy’.”

Dean looked back at her, his expression saying he was unimpressed with her attempt at humor. Then suddenly his face crumpled and he grabbed his left arm tightly, a small grunt of pain escaping him.

Y/N jumped up. “Or you can let me look at your arm and patch you up.”

Dean stepped away from Y/N quickly. “It’s fine. Just a cut. It’s healing.”

“Well, let me look at it.”

“No!” Dean barked at her, all his tense anger returning. “This is exactly my point. I’m fine and I don’t need anyone poking at me.”

Another wave of pain hit him and he half sat and half fell on the couch. His teeth were bared in a painful grimace as he pressed hard on his forearm. Y/N was very used to dealing with salty hunters who were too stubborn to listen to reason. She grabbed the first aid kit from the kitchen counter and returned to stand in front of Dean.

“Take off your jacket and pull up your sleeve.” Y/N ordered, feeling surefooted for the first time since walking into the cabin that evening. This was what she did. This was how she fought the good fight. She was a healer. Never able to go to school like a normal kid because of the life she and her dad lived, Y/N had, nevertheless, excelled in science and had always wanted to be a doctor.

That was impossible, of course, she knew she'd never become a doctor with her shoddy schooling record. So she learned to be a healer. She taught herself. She studied medicine, folklore, magic, and botany and combined them to become a hunter healer. She took care of her dad, but also all of her dad’s friends and a lot of victims that her Dad and his friends managed to save.

So she issued her directive and expected Dean would listen. But he ignored her easily. Not daunted, she simply climbed onto his lap, straddling him and pushing the jacket off his shoulders. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d forced healing onto someone bound and determined to suffer.

But in her comfort in her role as a healer she had momentarily forgotten that she wasn’t dealing with an old hunter or a traumatized victim. In spite of the pain in his arm, Dean was a virile, powerful, healthy, grown man; a hunter legendary for his strength and skill.

He grabbed her wrists tightly and she gasped as she was startled back to the reality that she was sitting in Dean Winchester’s lap and he had complete control over the situation. For some reason that idea, an idea that should have scared her, instead caused her stomach to tighten and heat to pool at her core.

Dean continued to hold her wrists firmly, but not painfully as he shrugged his jacket back onto his shoulders. He lowered their hands to rest between their bodies on his lap.

“I said, I’m fine.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest and it fell on Y/N’s ears like a drop of smooth bourbon on the tongue.

He let go of her wrists but made no move to get her off his lap. Y/N didn’t want to move, so she reached into the first aid kit and pulled out some rubbing alcohol and gauze.

“At least let me take care of some of this blood and these cuts on your face.” She said, her voice more of a ragged whisper than she’d meant it to be.

Dean shook his head slightly. “Most of it isn’t my blood.” But he didn’t stop her from reaching out and gently cleaning away some of the blood and mud from the small scratches and wounds along his hairline.

Y/N could feel Dean’s scorching gaze intent upon her face as she worked. It made her breath catch and her hands tremble slightly and she desperately avoided catching his eye for fear her heart would just stop beating.

There was a small abrasion on his chin and as Y/N dabbed at it gently with the gauze, her focus shifted to Dean’s plush bottom lip. It looked so soft, such a contrast to the rest of him. Her thumb was so close now; she could probably get away with touching it under the guise of checking his lip.

And before she could stop herself or admonish herself for her lack of boundaries and propriety, she was swiping her thumb along the silky smooth line of his lip. She heard a quick inhale and couldn’t actually tell if it came from Dean or her. Her thumb rested in the middle of his lip and almost reflexively Dean’s tongue pressed gently against it, before pulling the very tip in between his teeth and biting softly.

Y/N slid her gaze to his finally and the smoldering heat she found there did indeed make her heart skip several beats. Her breathing more ragged than ever, she pulled her hand away and replaced it with her lips. The kiss was chaste and soft, her movements deliberately slow, giving him ample opportunity to pull away or push her off of him.

When she pulled back slightly his eyes were still open and he studied her. When he finally spoke his voice was so soft and low she could only just make out his words.

“You shouldn’t stay here, Y/N. You should move.”

“Do you want me to?”

“You should want to.”

“Why?”

Dean grabbed hold of Y/N’s hips and pressed her down on his lap so that she could feel the hard bulge that pushed against the front of his jeans. Y/N’s eyes widened and Dean nodded.

“Because I really don’t want you to. I want you to stay right where you are. I want to rip the clothes from your body and taste your skin. I want to pound into you until oblivion hits. Because it’s been too long and I don’t have it in me to be gentle.” He paused and grabbed Y/N’s face between his palms.

He pulled her lips to his and crushed them against his own. His tongue swept into her mouth, hot, hard and wet. He pulled away only far enough to pull her bottom lip into his mouth and suck on it before biting down, leaving an imprint of his sharp white teeth in the soft skin.

“No, I won’t be gentle.”

Y/N felt a shudder of anticipation race through her.

"Don't be.”

Hot damn....I need a cold shower now....😍

Black and Red and Blue

Summary: Determined to get your Alpha back, you didn’t think twice before following a lead. You barely blinked an eye at the church it brought you to. It never occurred to you that it might be dangerous. That the archangel inside Dean was waiting for his Omega…

Pairing: Alpha!Michael!Dean x Omega!Reader

A/N: This is a second piece to Black and Red, but could be read on its own. Gonna tag @covered-byroses, not sure if she reads ABO, but I know she’s doing that Michael!cember stuff :):)

Warnings: ABO dynamics. Explicit language. Angst. Smut. Dub-con (just trying to cover my ass). Fingering. Thigh riding. Lil bit of hair pulling. Unprotected sex. Grace kink. Marking. Knotting. Praise kink.

Bamby

You never should have gone off by yourself. You never should have left the bunker, leaving just a simple letter and no goodbye. You should have taken Sam up on his offer to look for Dean. Instead you decided to go off on your own. It was stupid, reckless and the reason you were in your current predicament.

After weeks of searching you’d finally found a trail that seemed to lead to Dean. By Dean you meant Michael, the asshole archangel that had hijacked your Alpha and disappeared without a trace… until now.

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Behold the Candle of Writing. Reblog for abundant inspiration and creativity to come your way

Quick question,

What's a good paint to go over tape? I got asked to paint a welding mask for someone at work and we laid duct tape over the face but I don't know what type of paint would work best, anyone have an idea?? I got no idea where to start......

Steve Rogers || what’s in your head

these pics i took came out really good!! :0 pride flag dragon enamel pins on my etsy!

YOU MATCH THE 141 ON TINDER 💓

Summary:

While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Pairing:

141 x Reader poly!141 x Reader

The Beginning:

Teaser

Chapters:

Prequel

1- Kyle

2- Johnny

3- Simon

4- John?

5- GETTING LAID?

6- John.

7- Getting Laid!! 😈🌶️

8- Awooga?

9- Drinks?

10- SIMON?!

11- Excuse me?

12- A date?

13- Yes, and?

14- (B)romance?

15- Mo leannan

16- Teeth.

17- Guard dogs.

18- Picnic.

19- Slippery Slope. 😈🌶️

20- Control 😈🌶️

21- I BEG YOUR PARDON?

22- What is it about you?

22.5 - Cardiff, London, Cairo, Cabo, Tel Aviv. 😈🌶️(mini chapter)

More chapters - COMING SOON!

Click here to see some fanart of "it's a match" chapter 14 "(B)romance)?" by my lovely moot @xxshadowbabexx.

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[FIND MY FICS ON AO3]

THE TAGLIST IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED, not accepting any more requests! (I'm sorry, there's just too many people on it)

taglist below the cut

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

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Ok so hear me out here.

The knights of Ren totally love Lieutenant Mitaka

Crazy, I know but just listen up.

Part one

I like to think that Mitaka is a great baker. (Like amazing cookies, bomb pastries etc) and he leaves them in the officer common area for others to enjoy.

Now the knights don’t usually visit the common area. Why would they, they don’t need to. But anyways they do one time and the see this chocolate chip cookies laying there on the table. And them being the people they are they all take one because food.

They get to eating them and they’re like mmmmm! These are really good!

And they want to find out who made them so they harass the next unexpecting officer on break to see who made the melt in your mouth fluffy goodness.

And the officer is just like oh yeah mitaka made those. He makes them every Thursday to bring in just for a fun treat.

And the Knights are impressed. The chefs on the ship are good but they’re not this good.

So now they’re off to find the lil lieutenant baker.

And when they find him he’s supper scarred.

Why are six big burly looking men suddenly standing in his office with serious looks on their faces. Has he done something wrong?

So mitaka stutters out a l-listen kn-kn-knights....

And it takes all the power of the knights not to burst into to laughter because it looks as though mitaka might pee himself.

One of them finally speaks up and says we really like your baking man. It’s great, like you have a talent.

Mitaka is stunned but with a slight blush and a beaming smile he thanks the knights. He says he learned to bake from his mom and that he quite enjoys doing it.

The knights inform him that they have a mission tomorrow. Not a huge important one but one where they still have to leave the ship for a few days. That asked him to make them some cookies for they’re trip. Of course Mitaka agrees with a swift nod. He assured them he will bake them a batch to take with them.

Next day rolls around and low and behold before they disembark on their mission mitaka hands each of them a quart bag of cookies.

Now since they have masks on you can’t see they’re bright smiles and shiny eyes. But they each thank mitaka and give him a small nod before they head to they’re to ship and leave.