#Barrel Nipple

[rifo1011]

Pipe Fitting Barrel Nipple Manufacturer in India

Petromet Flange INC is an emerging Pipe Fitting Barrel Nipple Manufacturer In India. A barrel nipple is a small pipe having male threads on both ends that is used to expand or join pipe segments in plumbing and piping systems. 

Metals such as steel, stainless steel, or brass are commonly used. Pipe Fitting Barrel Nipple Manufacturers make it available in a variety of diameters and lengths, with shorter lengths being ideal for tight connections or constrained locations. 

They are adaptable and are utilized in a variety of plumbing and pipe systems, and adequate sealing measures, such as thread sealant or tape, are required to avoid leakage.

For More Details On The Company Visit:

Website: Petromet Flange INC

We Also Are Flange Manufacturers and 45 Degree Elbow Manufacturer in India and 45 Degree Elbow Manufacturer in Pune

[evilejfan]

In light of recent events regarding the unpleasantness that Franco fans have been subjected to, I will say this much:

LET YOUR FREAK FLAG FLY YOU BEAUTIFUL WANKERS!

I have been given guff for years for the ugly fictional characters I have fallen for. It never slowed my momentum or changed my mind. It's all good, it's all for fun and none of it is real. Not to say that I wouldn't try if it was... I'm leering at you, Coyle... 😳

Look, IDK if anyone will even take the time to read this but lemme make it clear. People are going to judge you. It doesn't matter who you love or what you like, folks are crap. Trolls are trolls. Don't feed them and don't let them steal your sunshine. And remember that you are loved, and respected and I am in your corner cheering on your freaky fascination with the big head man-baby. Suck that pacy and let him sit on your lap. He wants to call you mommy/daddy and nobody should get in the middle of that.

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 CHECKED THE RACK ?!

☆ sum. bóob obsessed jjk men who just can keep their hands off of you, their sweet sweet wife. toji, choso, gojo, geto, nanami.

warnings 𝜗𝜚 . fem! reader, wife reader, feral handsy men, bóob fondling, unprotected, cowgirl, dry humping, praise, dirty talk, lactátion fantasizes, brief face-fucking, bréeding mentions, implied multiple rounds, overstim, petnames.

☆ SATORU GOJO.

“god, really missed my girls,” satoru huffs, sucking in a single sharp breath as he buries his face right between your breasts.

you gasp, feeling him lick a single long stripe down the sloping valley of your chest before he roves his tongue to teasingly lap near your perked nipple. he takes a single whiff, and he’s enticed. satoru was always a clingy man. you had his cock stilled inside of your cunt the entire time you laid back against the cushioned mattress. despite it being so early in the morning, he couldn’t help but want more, want you.

pristine white tresses of hair rub up against your chest as he nuzzles further into you. “mhm, seems like they missed me too, mwah,” he kisses your left breast, feeling you cutely writhe. satoru’s still reclined back against the king-sized bed before he shoots you a sleazy grin. “tell me somethin’,” he whispers, and his hands suddenly grab onto your unsteady hips. you moan—feeling him start to leisurely rock you quicker into him. the bulbous curve of his shaft makes your legs merely collapse inward. “you touched yourself today, sweets? while i was work, hm?”

“n- no,” a soft whisper sprints out of your lips as you watch his hands tenderly guide your hips back and forth. you’re drenching his cock with your sweet syrupy sap, clamping down mercilessly within each sloppy thrust. so good, you bit down at the bottom of your lip before your tits start to bounce again. satoru glances straight toward them and he almost moans himself. the way they slap back against your chest. pap pap pap, he feels himself get harder the more he stares at your loud tits hitting against you, his cock sporadically and shamelessly twitching inside of you.

“no?” he repeats, and he noticed how your eyes dart away for a split second as you speak in a hushed voice. as his fat shaft continues to deeply barrel inside of your puffed cunt, he hums, cupping one of your springy soft breasts. “ ‘course ya did, you sent me those soapy pics of you in the bath on my break,” shit. you completely forgot, and you now start to whine as you’re just bouncing on his cock. your head fills up with nothing but clouded empty thoughts—not a single thought in your mind but the longing anticipation of satoru pumping you full of yet another thick load.

ruthlessly, the skin of your own starts to smack back onto your chest over and over as you thoroughly dig the centers of your knees into his thighs. “silly girl,” the white haired man playfully taps against your forehead, giving it a soft dumbing knock. ‘m making that my wallpaper by the way. fuckin’ sexy.”

as you’re whimpering the same repeated cacophonies of his name, you gasp, feeling his palm softly swat against your tits. “fuck, satoru!” you clench down on your jaw and your hips continue to sway. it was a tender delicate spank against your breasts, but he grunts once he feels your pussy squeeze against him the second he does it. you liked it. your body, he knew it—he knew every part of it, and he found it cute how you always responded to his lewd antics. “hngh, ‘m not gonna last, ‘s still sensitive, ‘toru.”

“you’re a kinky ‘lil thing, huh,” he lips curve into sly simper once he hears your cute hiss. you’re growing dumber and dumber the more your ass pounds against him and the brief sting makes him groan. his fat thick base sits right underneath you and you feel how full it is, so swollen. your mouth starts to salivate at the realization of just how deep he’s inside—merrily massaging your gummy clingy walls. satoru loved more than anything to give you a good filling after a long day of work. it was his treat to you, and he couldn’t resist when you were just so sweet. “ooh. like that?” he purrs, and you moan once he then gives your nipples a squeeze with two stubby fingers. fuck, your legs were shaking and he felt it—your body was a ticking time bomb. “yeah, yeah you do. pussy’s a sloppy dead giveaway, angel.”

“sato—ugh,” you moan, and he goes back to sucking on your tits. even whilst buried between your chest, he’s so pretty. satoru’s got the biggest cheekiest grin plastered on his lips as he’s got nothing but your boobs in his mouth. you’re still riding him but once his tongue slurps against your sensitive nipple - it’s over. your brain short circuits and your hands grab onto his hair hard. he’s drooling all down your chest and yet he doesn’t care about being messy. his tongue traces everywhere down your skin until he’s just tenderly sucking at any spot his lips can reach. “fuck, fuck, m- more please.”

“my wife’s got such a pretty body,” he groans, his lips ‘popping’ loudly once he removes your boob from his lips. glossy strands tear away from the slim cracks of his mouth before he rubs a thumb over your throbbing nipple. “y’know what though,” and his voice lowers. you gulp, still having his dick idle inside of your sopping cunt before he leans up close to your ear, pressing a hand down on your tummy. “you’d be an even prettier mommy. think ‘m ready ‘ta see that tummy round ‘n plump again, sweets.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURUO

“ah, ah babygirl. hold still, need ‘ta give the twins some extra lovin’ too,” a raspy voice whispers against the back of your ear.

you moan, slumping back against your husband’s chest. he still had his work clothes on and he’s just came back from home. it’s late evening, dusk preparing to set and yet—the first thing he made sure to do was to touch his pretty wife everywhere.

his bare scarred hands softly grab against both of your breasts, making them playfully bounce in his palms. “no bra too? such a good girl.”

“t- toji,” you whimper, almost forgetting that his cock was still buried deep inside of you. hes not even moving, you’re not even moving and yet you feel his thick heavy cock plummet through your goopy insides. he’s always been a clingy man, you knew that, and if it wasn’t your ass toji fushiguro was utterly obsessed with, it was your tits.

you were wearing nothing but a silky ivory colored nightgown. he peeped at how your perky nipples would rub and poke out against the showy soft fabric and he hums in sly amusement.

your hips were slow, painfully slow.

you were barely moving, but his cock was very much keeping your gummy insides occupied. his touch was fiery hot and you collapse back against his chest before feeling his lips kiss down your neck. “fuck, i still have to m- make dinner.”

“no need, hon,” he huskily snickers, and you let off another moan once he gives both of your breasts a firm squeeze. he’s obsessed, the rotund prints of his thumbs couldn’t resist to swipe and swerve all across your sensitive nipples just to feel you squirm and writhe on his cock.

oh, you could never stay still and it was his favorite thing about you. you cutely shiver from his touch, leaning into his grasp before hearing your own cunt squelch.

it’s screaming out a pretty sloshing ‘pop’ sound that echoes through the thin peeling dry walls and a wry smile compresses against toji’s lips. “already got my dinner right fuckin’ here,” and you moan once one of his hands creep down toward the curvature of your ass, giving it a soft spank. “ah, never said you could stop ridin’ me, pretty mama. work those hips more f’me. chop chop.”

“ngh, toji i’m gonna cu— oh!” you shriek, and as your jerking hips start to pick up again, slamming meaner and quicker against his lap, you gush right out. you end up cumming far earlier than you anticipated, all thanks to his rude blushing tip repeatedly kissing and mashing up against your most sweetest spots. you’ve never felt more dumb. you’re at a lost for words, stupidly dumbfounded. you’re moaning out inaudible whimpers as you hear your slick mess slosh down right between your pried open thighs. toji grunts, feeling your honeyed mess spray and cream all down his twitching lengthy shaft. his cock’s still plugged into your greedy pussy as your legs now grow limp. toji’s got his hands glued back on your tits and he playfully gives them a few bounces. “f- fuck.”

“did ya just cum from me playin’ with yer tits, baby?” he coos, a wolffish grin spreading against his lips.

so hot, your legs continue to spasm before squeezing shut, keeping his dick inside. you could barely even swallow without moaning out little whimpers of his name as your tongue’s just casually lolled out of your mouth.

“aw,” he tsks, giving your nipples that poke through your blouse a kittenish pinch. you’re weakly grinding against his lap whilst he’s whispering sweet nothings to you from behind. you’ve never felt more sensitive—and ripples surge all through your body as you ride out your orgasm, hearing toji’s breath get more rasp against the shell of your ear. “there there babygirl, ‘s okay. relax,” he whispers in a gruff tone as one of his hands slide down your body. you twitch from his callused fingers slithering down your chest. “such a messy cutie, should play with y’er tits more often if ya get like this, heh.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

“thought about you today at work,” nanami purrs, a husky baritone smoothing underneath his tone. your drooling wet pussy was so so closed to milking him yet again, and he’s just in awe at how you ride him good—bouncing on his fat cock with droopy half-open eyes. he’s exhausted, he’s been up and about his feet all day everyday, same old same old nine to five job but he was missing you. and now that he had you, he was clingy. nanami kento was clingy, so clingy to the point where you had to pry his hands off. he’s got you riding him in his creaking wooden rocking chair whilst he’s got a flustered grin curling against his slick glossed lips. “thought about you ‘n these pretty girls too.”

right as he said that though, he’s got two big hands squeezing against your tits, cupping them each in such a delicate manner. you gasp, continuing to rock back and forth against his halfway pulled down silk slacks before you moan. “fuck, ‘ken,” and his touch was so tender. his fingertips trace everywhere—every crevice and corner of your body. you still had your bra clasped on and he can’t help but openly gawk.

your wobbly hips continue to swivel all around him as your ass rigorously throws itself on his lap, smack smack smacking away. it feels sharp, your unpredictable movements that were once in sync with his grew more and more unsteady and it makes the aging rocking chair behave more and more rickety. it’s pathetically crying from the pounds of hefty weight crushing against it. “mhm,” you mewl through gritted teeth and your hands softly grab onto his wide wrists. a thumb of yours ghosts against the band of his rolex and he shoots you a needy grin. “kento, you never answered my question.”

“hm? oh,” there’s a playful glint in his eye, and you moan again once his head goes right between your springy tits. he’s showering every exposed area with a multitude of wet chaste kisses, making sure your skin knows who’s making it feel good - him. “oh, my day was fine sweetheart,” and a drawing hot breath gets stuck in the back of your throat, feeling his sly tongue slowly and playfully lap down the valley of your breasts. “mhm, so fine,” and his voice drops lower and lower. your hips start to slow down with seconds and he’s just toying with you. nanami’s hands now slither further down to toward your quavery hips. “my day’s even better now that i’m spendin’ it with my pretty wifey.”

and you let off a sweetened three second moan once he starts to latch his glistening lips against your swollen neglected nipples. shaggy blond strands of hair tickle against the upper part of your chest as he starts to suck, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to roam. “ah, i remember when milk used to come from here, my love,” he grunts, shifting between each tit — he’s tender, making sure to take his time whilst his hardened cock’s still hidden inside of your puffy cunt. nanami’s cupping each hand over your breasts before his gentle fawn eyes meet yours. the tip of his tongue swirls around your achy nipple before he groans right into your chest. “thinkin’ about that makes me wanna put another baby in you, sweetheart. f- fuck, all swollen ‘n plump. you’d like that?”

“y- yes,” you moan, and your hips start to frantically pick up again. the angered plump crownhead of nanami’s cock extends through each pivotal thrust and you feel it. the curving hook of his cock repeatedly thrashes up inside of you and you’ve never felt more full. he’s just so deep, you bite back a moan or two before your breathing starts to catch up with you. he’s tapping against a spongy texture and it makes your thighs squeeze together in sudden rapture. “want another baby, please. give me another..another baby,” your words start to chop as your hips become sloppy. your pussy’s got his entire cock slobbering down from the veiny sides with your sap and he grunts at the sloshing slickness.

“give you?” nanami softly rasps, and he raises a blond eyebrow at your needy demand. “oh, baby. that’s not how we ask. c’mon, be a big girl ‘n ask me the right way, sweet thing,” and he grazes a thumb over your pouting lip, kissing it gingerly. “talk to me nice, my love.”

as his cock roughly punctuates inside of you within each exaggerated thrust, you toss your arms over him, whimpering loudly. “please, please can i have another baby, ‘ken. breed me, make me full. want it so bad, want you.” and he leans in to kiss you. it’s passionate, his lips dance against yours whilst his tongue slides into your mouth, demanding access. you moan, feeling his solid weight continue to anchor into yours. slamming, he’s got your hips working to the bone and it makes him groan. nanami’s hand go back toward your tits and he gives them a nice good feel, smiling against your lips once he feels the full doughy mounds bounce and jolt in his hand.

“better be a g-good girl ‘n take it then,” he huffs, stammering over his own words. nanami leans in, going back to sucking against your tits. they slap and move move all against his face due to your rocky hips and a faint grin tugs on both sides of his lips. your hips grind further into him at full speed—full throttle and you moan once one of his hands gives your ass a squeeze which turns into a quick spank. “mhm, that’s it. ride me, honey. milk me, got so much ‘ta give you,” and your skin melts into him the faster you move. skin against skin and it smacks rough, ricocheting against both pounds of flesh and you whimper at the brief twinges of pleasure. each smack against flesh makes your ears ring and it’s only seconds before he’s cumming.

it’s a lot, a thick load of velvety ropes that deeply pours into your aching cunt. it’s so much to where it’s unapologetically dribbling down your thighs in creamy stringy clumps. it can’t fit inside of your cunt—he groans at the realization, cupping your right tit before going back to sucking against it whilst staring you straight in the eyes. “fuck, i- i need a minute,” and he’s gradually feeling his body succumb to defeat as his burly muscles tense underneath his business attire. with your tit still popped in his mouth, nanami shoots you a wry pussy drunk smile before lathering his tongue around your tender nipple. after a few seconds, he takes it out of his mouth before falling back. his and clench underneath his business shirt and he playfully smacks your ass, another hand dramatically fanning himself. “whew.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

“a- are you sure?” choso mumbles with a pout, and he’s panting heavily at the sight that’s right before him. you’re on your knees for him whilst your two hands cup under both of your tits. doing so—you show off your pretty nails he paid for about a week ago. you make direct eye contact with his leaking cock. his tip was a pearly pink, swollen with tears of pre-cum spewing from the sides. he’s got a hand wrapped around his length before he exhales. “i just—put it in between..?”

“mhm,” you softly coo, occasionally glancing at the black curly specks of hair that glue near his base. his happy trail, you stare at it for a while, watching his chiseled abs achingly flex before you puff out your bottom lip. “c’mon, baby. nice ‘n slow. ‘s okay. just pretend you’re fuckin’ me.”

an elongated breath gets caught in his throat at your lewd words. just pretend he’s fucking you. choso’s sable dark pupils dilate as he gives his throbbing cock a few single pumps. he’s slow, a thumb of his swipes against a pulsating vein that’s prodding on his skin before he slowly positions his dick between your plump tits. “f- fuck,” he murmurs, watching as two of your hands squeeze your breasts together. so soft, he watches you with cute widened eyes as his achy cock rests in between both of your mounds. choso’s so hard too, it’s almost painful at how much he’s throbbing but it feels too good to shy away. “baby, can you use your mouth too?”

“yeah, ‘cho,” you hum sweetly, and he hears the tease in your tone. it was probably a dumb question and he already felt a hot wave of embarrassment spray over his body. his breath continues to hitch as he sees you—gradually starting to bounce your breasts up and down with his twitching shaft caught between the slick valley. your dewy glossed eyes never leave his, and every few seconds you’d grab his shaft, using a hand to pull it up to your lips for a quick suck. choso whimpers, desperately craving for more. he’s never did such an activity like this before. a boob job, apparently humans call it that. he’s not a stranger when it comes to intimacy but this, he could get used to having his cock between your pretty tender tits. “mhm,” you purse your lips, briefly wrapping them around his sweltering hot tip. he’s close, you could tell he wasn’t gonna last long and the bouncing of his thigh gave it away.

“ugh, w- when you use your tongue, i—” he cuts off, a keen gasp ripping out from his vocal chords. you drag his leaky pulsating tip to smear around your nipples before popping it right back into your mouth. choso takes a mental image of this entire scenario, storing it in the back of his mind. but he just couldn’t take it anymore. “fuck it.”

you let off a sheepish giggle before it’s your turn to gasp once choso’s hand suddenly grabs the back of your head. you look up at him and he moans, pushing your head all the way down until his tip greets against the roof of your mouth. the edges of your nails pierce into his thighs as you’re now being face fucked, ruthlessly.

your head bobbles up and down continuously as your tits bounce in sync and you’re slobbering all down his cock. lustrous cobwebs of saliva start to string away from your lips and it’s so pretty. he’s trying to luxuriate in the feeling of your warm mouth keeping his cock warm.

so so good, he’s rolling his eyes in pleasure but that’s when you then feel his dick twitch inside your mouth and on your flat tongue once he spots you starting to drool. oh, and that was all it took for him to grow weak. glimmering sheeny strands of saliva cascade past your lips and further down the crack of your chest. it brings a brighter shine to your breasts and he’s never felt more turned on. “fuck, y- you’re so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he babbles, black arched brows contorting together in awe. choso’s tugging at your roots - pulling hard. you’re getting his entire dick wet with the help of your mouth—slurping inch after inch until his mushroom tip’s continuously kissing against the back of your throat. “ohfuckohfuckohfuck.”

as he’s blabbering out the same repeated cries, your eyes briefly widen once he’s shooting gooey ribbons of cum right into your mouth. the bittersweet taste never fails to make you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. choso’s dick resumes to weakly pump down your throat as his milky hot cum sprays on the center of your pink tongue. twirling your tongue around his tip whilst your hands still play with your pretty breasts, you meet his gaze once he’s shaking—releasing his rough grip against the back of your head. “shit, was i too mean? ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry baby-”

and his voice slowly trails off once you pull his cock out of your mouth, hearing the loud ‘pop’ sound from your lips before you lick the side of your mouth. “i’m okay, ‘cho,” you coo, feeling yourself throb a bit at choso being rough for a change—it was just the image of him shoving you down his cock, watching you play with your tits, gripping hard on your strands all while whining. “you liked that, baby?”

“a lot, actually,” he grows sheepish. but even after the fact, choso can’t help but smear his achy tip against your swollen lips, before softly smacking it against it against your rolled out tongue. you looked a mess - his mess. strands of saliva land on his tip once he brings it toward your lips, watching you give it s quick kiss. but as he glances at your twitching cum-glossed lips, he desperately to kiss you and snatch a taste for himself but he knew he had to wait. choso starts to pant, wrapping all five fingers around his veiny length before stuffing it back between your tits. “one more,” and he lets off a soft moan once you spit on his cock, slimy transclucent drool glissading down the valley of your chest and onto his rosy tip. “you’re so n- nasty, heh. do that again, princess.”

☆ SUGURU GETO

“stay still,” he whispers, and you glance down at geto who’s resting his chin right between your breasts.

they’re all bare and exposed, his favorite view. he’s missed you all day and he couldn’t wait to pounce on his pretty wife. “my, look at these. jus’ waiting for me,” and he cups both of them, giving them bother tender kisses. fat silky covers go over the both of you and just seconds ago, geto was pounding into you raw until your pussy was literally overflowing with velvety ropes of cum. “untouched, i presume?”

“y- yes, sugu,” you breathe, feeling a bit tender from his delicate touch. he grunts, shifting a bit under the plump covers. his cock rests flat against the dull grey sheets before he starts to rut against your leg. a hand of yours finds its way to run through his strands, digging near his tender scalp. “didn’t touch myself all day. waited for you.”

a small hum leaves from him before he brings his crooked lips up toward your right breast. groaning, geto leand in to suck against it—he’s feral, sloppy rutting hips slowly grind against your thigh that’s propped up underneath him as his tongue flicks up and around your nipple. “ah, sugu,” your eyes squeeze shut for a moment as your fingers intertwine with his thin raven locks. his eyes were closed and he was so into it, his tongue circles around your nipple before he slurps—popping sounds shrieking out from his slim reddened lips. “fuck, don’t stop. . please,” and your words only made him grunt more. he didn’t even realize he was humping all up against your leg but he didn’t care.

this place—buried right between your tits, absolute heaven to him. .

he’s so sloppy too, he’s got strands of slippery saliva dripping past his perfect parted lips as he’s snaking his head down the crack of your chest. “oops,” he whispers, dark hooded eyes observing the mess he’s creating. your breasts were all swollen, the centers of your mounds were so shiny all because of his saliva. your nipples were poorly tender and glistening with drool. “sorry, sweetie. couldn’t help myself. had ‘ta get a taste of my favorite girls,” and his words get a bit muffled once he stuffs his face back in between your tits. you giggle but it quickly turns into a sultry long moan once he starts to greedily suck against the other neglected breast. “mhm,” and he groans loudly, the tip of his cock brushing up against your thigh. geto’s wearing sweats but even still, you could feel it. his dick rubbing off against the grey fabric, ticking all against your leg. he’s brick hard and with your tits stuffed in his mouth, it only made him ten times worse.

“fuh— fuck,” he snarls, and his half on boxers continue to snag against your skin. geto’s brows come together before he ends up cumming - it’s so abrupt, his eyes roll back and you can almost hear a whimper leave from his throat. “goddamn,” he huffs, and as his chest heaves in and out, he stares up at you with the most feral expression. his mouth’s open and no words come out anymore for a while—just breathy hot pants and faint whimpers. geto couldn’t have felt anymore embarrassed. damp grey splotches soak and create a patch near the center of his boxers as his hips grow substantially weak. geto’s shuddering, and you pull him close as his head’s buried between your tits. “you drive me c- crazy, y’know,” he moans, and he’s still feeling the sharp after effects. his cock was now soft and flaccid, bulging inside of his cerulean blue boxers that hide underneath his sweats before he pouts on your chest. “got me h- humpin’ your leg ‘n moaning for you, fuck.”

“it’s okay, suguru,” you whisper, silvery fingers still kneading through his hair. his face softens at your reassurance. his eyes meet toward your lips before you give his forehead a kiss. “good boy.”

“s- shut up,” he scoffs, both sides of his cheeks angrily flushing the second those two horrid words slither out of your lips. the audacity, geto’s still laid on top of you as if he’s practically glued against your body. he’s so hot against your skin that both pounds of flesh practically melt against each other. but, geto can’t help but pout more against your chest as he looks up at you, his pride’s nowhere to be found as he’s now happily nuzzling his face into your tits. “say it again, sweetheart,” and he sounds annoyed but he’s actually pleading for more—not only did you make him insanely sensitive but you also made suguru geto whimper. “tch. call me that again. see what happens. f- fuck.”

[emmyrosee]

“Get ready with me to breakup with my fiancé-“

“BUUUUUULLSHIT YOU ARE!”

Immediately, as soon as your first words are uttered over the recording video, Rintaro’s booms down the hallway. You laugh and smack your hand on the counter, trying to keep it as quiet as you can as you hear him continue to yell.

“THE FUCK YOU THINK THIS IS? WE’RE LOCKED IN, WHAT THE FUCK!” Socked feet barrel down the hall and you’re quick to hide the camera behind a bottle of mouthwash. His body quickly comes into the frame, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “You got something you want to tell me?”

You pull your lips down in thought before shaking your head, “no. I don’t think so. I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Oh!” He says dramatically, clapping his hands together. “So you’re just always talking about dumping me to your little Internet friends?”

“Only in my fantasies,” you hum, tossing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pouts, and you giggle and kiss him again, “but if I ever do decide to dump you, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

This, has him blinking unamused at you. Then, his hands leap up to grab your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a loud, wet kiss, his lips pressing kisses over your laughing mouth, teeth, and lips. “Listen to me.”

“Rinnie!”

“No. Shush. Listen to me.” He pulls back and rests his head against yours, hands still squishing your cheeks. “I have shit out an engagement ring for you. I have your name tattooed on me. I got clawed to death by your rat fuck cat, and I have a shirt with your face on it that I wear when I go out. We’ve shared a toothbrush, you pinch my nipple when I’m showering, you text me and ask me if I’ve pooped, and I know damn well you take ugly pictures of me when I’m sleeping.”

“Your point?”

His nostrils flare, “you so much as THINK this relationship is ending, I’m going to tattle on you.”

“Oh, please-“

“To Komori.”

This, has you paling, and you nod softly and gently grab his shoulders, “no, okay, you’re right, you’re right baby, I’m sorry.” He nods as you press a kiss to his lips, “but in all seriousness-“

“Oh, I’m serious, too.”

You snicker, “in my seriousness, I’m never going to leave you.” You flash your engagement ring to the camera and purse your lips out, and he smiles down at you. “who else is going to poop out a ring, then lie to the salesman about why we’re returning it, and get me a new one, hmm?”

“Thankfully, I’m the only one who will.” He kisses your forehead, then looks at you with sad eyes. “We’re locked in?”

“Yeah baby,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “We’re locked in.”

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x F! reader, best friend! Eddie, friends to lovers, dry humping, nipple play Summary: Eddie turns up at your house one night and in need of help so you show him how far you're willing to go to help out your closest friend. WC:4K

For the most part you were indifferent towards Jeff Parker. Neither of you ran in the same circles and he was usually the type to keep his head down but add a little alcohol to the equation and the guy turns into a regular Jay Gatsby — all over indulgent and the life of the party. You just wish that party wasn't taking place 15 feet away from your bedroom window.

It was all the drunken hollering and the thumping music that kept you up that night, bone-tired after pulling double shifts at work. It was the police sirens blaring an hour later that ripped you out of a dream just as you were finally able to doze off with your head buried beneath your pillow. And it was the tapping on your bedroom window that came ten minutes later that made you spring up and nearly shoot out of your own skin.

"Eddie! what the hell?", you whisper shout into the darkness of your bedroom, recognizing his shaggy haired silhouette crouched behind the glass and backlit by nearby streetlamps.

You figured he must have climbed up the lattice to get up onto your roof as he begins to point urgently at the lock on your window, mouthing at you to let him in.

Kicking off your covers, you quickly make your way over to the window and unlock it for him, pulling it open and stepping aside to allow him to barrel roll into your room and heave a heavy sigh of relief.

Sprawled out on your carpeted bedroom floor, Eddie pants the exertion away and you leave him there to rest, connecting the dots yourself.

"I told you to stop dealing at parties", you deadpan, shaking your head in that world weary way you often slip into when it comes to Eddie but all that seems to do is trigger a grin that makes him look suspiciously chipper.

"Got to make a living don't I?", he replies from the floor, his hair all wild and fanned out in an unruly halo of frizz and curls.

It's far too late at night for you to be bothered enough to get into it with Eddie so you simply roll your eyes at him instead, making sure to shut your window to keep the chilly night air from seeping into your warm, cozy room.

The music that'd been playing next door has finally been silenced, you're pleased to notice but as you look out the window you see that the patrol car responsible for making Eddie and several other partygoers disperse and hightail it out of there remains parked in front of Jeff's house.

"I'll make a move once the fuzz's gone. I'm parked a couple blocks away so it should be fine", Eddie explains casually, able to anticipate your concern but you keep your eyes fixed on the car and its flashing lights for a moment longer, chewing on your bottom lip.

The thing was, in a town where almost everyone had it out for your best friend, you weren't too fond of the idea of him driving home at this time of night with his pockets stuffed with illicit party favours. Hell, Eddie often gets pulled over in the middle of the day by asshole officers hoping to book him on a possession charge. And since the trailer park isn't exactly closeby, the likelihood of him running into another cop and getting pulled over seems way too high for your liking.

The thought of it alone makes your stomach plummet. You just didn't want to see your closest friend getting into any kind of trouble. Especially if you could do something to help prevent it.

Turning away from your window, you eye Eddie intently while he glances up at you from where he's still laid out on his back, his breathing even now that he's managed to catch his breath.

"I think you should stay the night. It'll be safer that way", you tell him plainly.

Though most of your room is draped in darkness, Eddie's lit up in a column of orange light that pours in through your window so it's easy for you to make out the way his eyebrows rise up and disappear behind his bangs, his eyes growing wider too as he props himself up on his elbows to look at you.

"Y' sure?", he asks and you can feel him studying your face closely, looking for any signs of doubt or hesitation.

You know he'll find none though. Sure, this is all very spur of the moment stuff but you have no reservations about having Eddie stay over. Exactly the opposite.

"Yeah. But be quiet, okay? My whole family's asleep", you tell him as he begins to pick himself up off the floor, face beaming as he grins at you and steps closer to where you're standing.

"Ya big softie. All worried about me, huh?", he posits, tipping his head to the side in a way that at any other time, you might have considered cute. Right now however, all he's managed to conjure is annoyance given how little sleep you've had tonight.

So you narrow your eyes at him, the rest of your expression flat as he makes the mistake of bringing his face closer to yours, giving you the opportunity to reach out and pinch his earlobe between your thumb and forefinger, twisting the soft skin until his teasing grin deflates and he throws up his hands in surrender.

"Fuck, uncle, uncle!", he calls out while keeping his voice as low as possible, face pinched in pain and looking all kinds of helpless before you decide to let go with a pleased scoff, a small smirk playing on your lips too.

Eddie rubs a hand over his newly freed ear, his gaze wandering away from your eyes, seemingly sizing you up before he takes a step back, no longer within your reach.

"By the way...", he utters cautiously, his gaze returning to your face when another smile curves his lips.

"Nice get up".

Confused, you take a look at yourself, your face turning warm as you tug down on the hem of your oversized t-shirt, hoping in vain that Eddie hadn't caught a glimpse of the panties you've got on underneath when he was down on the floor.

Though he doesn't confirm it, the look on his face says it all — that overly pleased smirk and that telltale glint lighting up his deep brown eyes. It irks you for just a moment before you surrender with a sigh.

"Eddie, I'm too exhausted for this. Please, can we skip the teasing and just go to sleep?"

A look of vague disappointment flashes over Eddie's face when you're able to quickly brush aside your momentary embarrassment, padding over to your side of the bed, no longer concerned with how much of your bare thighs might be on display before you pull back the covers and get in.

"C'mon, get in already", you urge him to join you as you motion to the vacant space on the left side of your bed, fighting off a yawn in the process because your eyelids are starting to feel heavy again.

It's Eddie who looks a little rattled now as he eyes your bed, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket with restless uncertainty before he rids himself of it, setting it on your desk chair before he bends down to begin unlacing his shoes in the dark.

You hear him struggle while he's crouched down, whispers of 'shit', 'fuck' and 'god fucking damnit' said loud enough for you to hear while you giggle at him, feeling a bit more at ease now that you're reminded of the kind of dork Eddie is at his core — sharing a bed should be no problem.

You've already turned over, your back to Eddie and your cheek resting on your pillow by the time you feel him slide in under the covers next to you, mattress dipping under his weight.

"I'll take off before your folks get up, I promise", he says to you and you hum back a sleepy 'okay' in reply, nuzzling into your pillow.

With that out of the way and both of you settled in bed, you thought that would be the end of it until next morning but sleep doesn't come as quickly as you would like.

For the next couple of minutes you can feel him readjusting beside you, tossing and turning and you already know why. In the interest of getting back to sleep you interrupt him. "Eds, just take them off already", you mumble over your shoulder at him, causing him to freeze.

"You want me down to my underwear?", he whispers back at you and though your back's still to him you can feel the incredulous expression he's got on his face as his eyes bore into the back of your head.

"It's fine. I'm in mine too", you tell him with a seemingly unbothered huff though if he'd had his palm pressed to your chest and just above your heart he'd know you're nowhere near as calm as you make yourself out to be.

A moment of silence elapses before he finally answers.

"Mkay"

You feel him move around, catching the sound of his zipper being pulled down before he's shucking his tight jeans off, relief apparent in his tone when he settles back in bed now that he's shed the tight denim.

"Night then", he whispers to you as you do your best to stifle the warmth swirling in your belly.

"Night", you answer, eventually drifting off to sleep at last.

~

"Shit shit shit shit shit"

It's the first thing you hear when you begin to wake up, blinking several times to clear your blurry vision before you can take a look at your alarm clock.

6.30AM. The sun's just beginning to rise and you grumble under your breath as you turn over to face Eddie, figuring now's the best time for him to make his way home.

"What the hell?"

You squint at the boy who appears several shades paler than usual, his eyes all large, looking like some kind of cornered animal with a pillow shoved over his lap.

"Um, are you okay?", you sit up in bed, your back against the headboard just like Eddie's.

His eyes dart nervously all over the room, seemingly preferring to focus them anywhere else besides on you and that only leaves you feeling even more confused.

"Okay so- the thing is...I can't exactly leave right now", he mumbles sheepishly to you, the corner of his left eye pinching into a slight twitch.

"Why? are you okay?", you ask, yet to catch on as to what seems to be troubling him.

He looks positively torn with his teeth worrying his bottom lip and a light sweat forming at his temple. "Fuck. Okay. Please don't hate me. It's just that— I have no control over it, okay? it just happens sometimes in the mornings, you know? and- and I...oh god you think I'm some kind of perv don't you?"

You can only blink at Eddie as he brings both hands up to cover his eyes, his neck stretched taught as he leans his head back until it thuds softly against your wall, letting out a defeated sigh.

Looking down at the pillow placed over his lap, you're finally able to guess what the problem is, your belly swirling with a familiar flash of warmth again, same as when you listened to him taking his jeans off last night.

"Oh...well, I don't think you're a perv. It's uh, natural? you can't help it", you tell him as calmly as you can manage, wanting him to feel better by lightening the weight of shame and guilt he's currently shouldering.

Hands still on his face, he parts his fingers enough for him to peek at you from between them. "So you're not mad?", he whispers, watching you closely to gauge your reaction.

You shake your head softly, trying your best not to let your eyes drop back to the pillow in his lap like you might be able to see right through it. You want to see right through it. Badly.

"I'm not mad Eds. I promise".

With another deep sigh, he seems to be more at ease now that he knows that he hasn't upset you, letting his arms flop down at his sides.

"I don't know what to do" he whispers and you can hear how torn he is over the whole situation as you catch the helpless little quaver to his tone.

"What do you usually do?, you ask, your thoughts all frazzled and crowding your head way too quickly than you can manage to comprehend them.

Eddie says nothing, turning to face you with a pointed look, quirking an eyebrow up high at you.

"Right.. dumb question. sorry", you admit.

A few beats of silence commence as both of your minds work, passing over bad idea after bad idea before you turn to back to Eddie again.

"I mean, you could just use my—"

"I can't just jerk off in your bathroom with you sitting here", he stops you quickly and firmly though not unkindly, making you realize that no matter what you try to come up with, he's probably already thought of it first.

"Eddie we have to do something about it", you maintain, sparing a glance at your alarm clock as it reminds you that he's only got a limited amount of time left to leave before he risks getting caught by your family or a neighbor seeing him clamber out your window.

You think about it long and hard, one particular thought echoing louder than the rest in your mind. You try to will it away but it only takes up more space in your head until it's all you can think about, taking in a big breath before you decide to share it with Eddie.

"If you want, I could help you", you tell him, nervously picking at your fingers in your lap.

"...What do you mean?", he asks, looking at you suspiciously.

You shrug. "Y' could grind on me".

There's a pause that seems to drag on much longer than you would have liked, both of you staring into each others eyes, unblinking.

"I can't do that — feels like I'd be taking advantage of you or something", he finally breaks the silence, making you feel somewhat wounded that he'd turned your offer down even though you know he's only trying to be a decent friend. You wish he'd give it a rest.

"Would it help if I took over?", you offer next, steeling yourself in the case of him turning you down once more.

"Sweetheart...please don't tell me you're just fucking with me."

"I'm not I promise", you answer firmly.

"I...are you sure? I mean really 100% sure?", he asks again.

You can't help but roll your eyes at him, slipping your legs out from under the covers to straddle Eddie's thighs all while his jaw falls slack at the sight and feeling of you on top of him, your fingers curling around the pillow still resting on his lap.

"I'm sure. Are you?", you ask him before proceeding though if you were to guess, you could read the answer off his face with ease.

"I...yeah", he squeaks, eyes all big and round like he's in awe of the way you've taken the lead.

"Okay then. Let me get rid of this."

You toss the pillow aside to the spot you'd formerly occupied, gulping down the lump in your throat with some difficulty when you set your eyes on the tent in his striped boxers. The way it strains against his underwear, it's easy to guess he's both thick and lengthy under that thin veil of cotton and the more you look at it the more it feels like the room is starting to tilt and spin.

It's the kind of thing you've thought about in secret a fair amount, you and your best friend doing things that you wouldn't ordinarily do with someone who was just your friend. You pull yourself closer to him, laying your hands on his shoulders as you balance your core over his bulge, carefully lowering yourself until you're pressed up right against his clothed cock. Both of you release a shaky breath at the feeling, him, because you feel so warm and soft and you, because he feels so warm and firm.

"Put your hands on my hips", you tell him next, liking the way his cheeks pink up in response as he places them on you gently, sending a wave of goosebumps all along your body.

You start slow, grinding yourself on the ridge of his cock, unable to help the way your pussy flutters as you drag it up near Eddie's tip and back down close to his balls, working your way up to a simple rhythm.

"How's that? is it good?" you ask, making sure to check in with him.

"Shit yeah that's...that's good. Keep going", Eddie starts to firm up his grasp on you, guiding you, encouraging you to pick up the pace, all the while you try to keep secret the way your stomach tightens up with so much heat, your pussy dripping plenty with slick.

"Eddie..."

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?", you ask him as you notice the the way his brows have begun to knit together, the same way they get when he's concentrating on nailing a solo on stage.

"I don't think I should uh answer that", he answers cautiously, disappointment making your lips push out into a little pout.

"Please. I wanna know", you ask gently, melting his resolve with your pleading eyes

"...M' thinking about your tits", he grits out, looking like he ought to be ashamed about it. You figure you have a way to fix that.

"Do you want to see them? would that um, help?"

Your offer hangs in the air for a few seconds as you finally manage to catch your clit the right way along Eddie's clothed cock, your toes curling while pleasure blooms inside your bones.

You no longer make a strong effort to hide the way that humping his cock is making you feel either, that it's not just him who's getting off here and maybe that's why Eddie manages to convince himself that it's okay to take this next step with you.

"I want to see them — yeah", he manages to croak out, his fingers twitching with so much excitement around your hips. He's thought about it too — the two of you like this. How could he not? when you're the only one who's ever cared. When you look the way you do. When you're soaking through your underwear and his with your nipples already hard as they show through your shirt.

How could he not want you?

With Eddie giving you the green light, you take your hands off of his shoulders and pick up the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off as you toss it behind you, uncaring of where it might land.

"Oh my god."

To you it might have felt like a quick undressing but for Eddie the world slows down to a crawl. He sees it all; the subtle way your breasts bounce and shift with your movements, the way they slope and rest on your chest, rising and falling with every breath and the way your perky nipples react to the cold air in your room, pebbling before his eyes.

"You can touch them if you want", you notice the way he's looking at them, feeling his cock jump under you.

"Christ, you're trying to kill me", he answers all hoarse.

To you, there's no greater compliment, your smile widening into a grin. Carefully, you guide him this time, prying his hands away from your hips and encourage him to cup his hands over your tits instead, moaning when he begins to press into the soft flesh, squeezing and massaging them.

"That feels good", you whisper, hips still working as you drag your drenched clit along his cock. "God, Eddie I've— I've wanted this for so long", you sigh dreamily, the truth spilling out much faster than you can try to swallow it all back down, all because you're so weak for the way those big, wide cinnamon eyes of his are staring back at you.

Your core's all sticky now, panties practically pasted to your skin in that messy way that usually has you eager to peel them off. Though as much as you'd like for the both of you to rid yourselves of all the tacky cotton between you, to be completely bare with each other, you don't want to mess up the rhythm you've fallen into, your clit pulsing and throbbing as you ride Eddie's lap.

"Honey... are you telling me that we could have been doing this from the start?", he asks, slightly anguished. He continues to gently pulling and pinching at your nipples while he keeps his eyes locked on yours, hushed grunts and groans falling from his parted lips.

Your hips are moving faster now, bed squeaking beneath you both, not that you care about your family hearing it — not right now — not when you're so close.

"I— I guess. Yeah", you gasp out when he pinches your right nipple, his left hand falling back down to your hip to guide you.

"You know how many times I've thought of you like this? how many times I've had to picture you on top of me just to get me through the day?, he asks, pulling and pushing you along his length with fervor.

"Why didn't you say anything?", you whine back.

"C'mon. We both kno— know you can do better than—"

Despite almost reaching the peak of your climbing orgasm, you dig your nails into the hand Eddie's got fixed on your hip, forcing your knees into your mattress to bring you both to a halt.

"Don't ever say that. Don't ever say that because it's not true", you place your hands on his cheeks, caressing his face gently. "I only kept my mouth shut incase you didn't feel the same about me...I didn't want to spoil what we already had. I couldn't stand it if you didn't want to be friends anymore..."

"Baby—", it's his turn to cradle your face, thumb making gentle circles on your cheek. "You could never lose me", he tells you, soft but firm and then you feel a pull and you suppose he must feel it too because you're both leaning in, faces closer than they've ever been before, lips grazing each other before you're sharing a kiss with your best friend for the very first time

It's gentle at first, both of your fingers weaving into each others' hair, a soft nip here and there before growing more hungry when Eddie's tongue meets yours. Both of you moan and whimper into each other's mouths, sloppy and messy, your heartbeats turning rapid when you eventually have to break for air, Eddie in need of the same when your lips part with a sticky click and he leans back to rest against the headboard again, panting. Any longer and he'd have cum from the kiss alone.

You catch your breath first, the corner of your mouth picking up into a lopsided smile. "Now are we going to make up for lost time or what?", you challenge him, both of you beaming with bright eyes and brighter smiles.

You pick up where you'd both left off, your hands on Eddie's shoulders and him, one hand on your hip, the other on your right breast, squeezing your soft skin, flicking your nipple because it makes you gasp and he loves hearing the sound of it.

"Please tell me you're close" Eddie grunts, sure to leave marks behind on your hip in the shape of his fingers. You were looking forward to admiring them in the mirror later.

"G-getting there. Wanna go faster— is that okay?", you make sure to ask, his answer coming through when his left hand slips down to find space on your other hip, pulling and pushing you along his length quick enough to make you squirm on his lap as your clit drags on him just right.

"Eddie— feels perfect...I think I'm gonna-"

"Please—" he cuts you off quickly with a ragged huff, his eyes wandering away from the wet, sticky stains that'd developed on both your underwear and his, pausing on the way your breast bounce and jiggle before fixing on your your eyes. "Please cum. I wanna watch you."

Your body begins to move on instinct as it chases your climax, eager to reach it this time than let it slip through your fingers twice. You're closer than before because it feels even better when you begin to lean back, your hands coming to rest on Eddie's thighs behind you. Your chest puffs out while you start to bounce yourself on Eddie's clothed cock, your puffy clit grazing against the stiff underside of his shaft, dragging dragging dragging until your eyes squeeze shut and it happens. The force of it wracks your body, overcome as your whole body quivers, and shakes, your pelvis twitching and jerking — and Eddie watches it all closely and unblinking.

In all his years of settling for quick glances and sly peeks at your body like those times your cleavage showed above your neckline or your bare legs and thighs were displayed whenever the weather called for a pair or shorts or a skirt, Eddie's never seen a more beautiful sight than the one he's taking in now — The way a light sheen glistens on your face, neck and chest, your swollen lips parting, releasing whimper after moan, your hair a little wild and beautiful and your panties drenched and ruined.

Eddie reaches out and brings you close, wrapping his arms around you as your chests meet and you fold into him, burying your face in his neck, whimpering and whining as your clit aches with oversensitivity though not enough to ask him to stop.

He's close by the sound and feel of it, so you grit your teeth and let him buck up against your poor soaked cunt, over and over as you drink in every grunt and groan. You want him to feel good too, unable to resist helping him tip over the edge. You let your tongue slip out from between your lips, licking the salt by his pulse point and letting out a little whisper to unravel him completely.

"Go on, cum for me, Eddie."

A guttural groan rumbles out of his throat just seconds later. it's instantaneous the way pleasure flares white hot at the pit of his stomach, shooting all the way up and raining down on the rest of his body like fireworks.

Though you're yet to feel Eddie inside you, yet to have your walls stretch to accommodate his shape and length so that you don't miss every little jerk, twitch and throb before he spills hot into you, you're still able to feel the effect of Eddie's orgasm. His body shudders and twitches underneath your weight, your pussy feeling warmer and wetter where just under it, Eddie's cum spurts rope after messy rope into his underwear, the cotton becoming saturated with his spend and transferring to your panties.

In the moments following your intense mutual pleasure, the both of you remain entangled in each others arms, sitting in the damp mess you've made of yourselves while you fight to catch your breath. It's Eddie who manages to break the silence first.

"...Do I have to go?, he whispers to you, one warm hand stroking your back gently.

"Do you want to go?, you ask softly against his neck, nuzzling against his skin.

"Not if I can stay and be with you"

You smile hard, chuckling against his skin. "Then stay. I want you to stay too. Y' can hide out in here"

"Yeah? I'm your little secret, huh?", he teases, his lips kissing your temple

"Only for today", you reply.

"Oh?"

You gently unstick yourself from Eddie so you can look him in the eyes, brushing his sweaty bangs away from his bright eyes before you cradle his cheek with one hand.

"Tomorrow I'm telling everyone we know that you're mine"

[shotmrmiller]

retired pornstar ghost has always been a talker. his voice is deep— a low rumble like distant thunder. always gets anyone that's under him going.

his voice to his own ears sounds plain, like any other man, really; he doesn't see the appeal. but what he does find appealing are the noises that come from you, his cute co-star when he talks to you, lips dripping with honey.

ghost loves when you clamp down on his cock, squeezing him like a vice when his wicked words sink into your ears. "tight bloody cunt would drive any man wild, love. how lucky i am that it's me getting to fuck you."

"look at you under me," he stills the bucking of your hips with one hand, skin dimpling where his fingers dig into you, "at my mercy, taking my desire."

"doing so well," he coos.

ghost lets out a sharp exhale through his teeth when your walls begin to flutter around him. "so quick to come, and i haven't even touched," he moves his hand down to your mons, thumb finding your swollen pearl, "here."

the circles he draws there are tight, precise, destructive. he brutally wrenches your orgasm from you, and in your blinding ecstasy, you dig your nails into the side of his proportionately wider waist.

his hips undulate as he fucks you through it while still fucking talking.

"kitty's got claws, doesn't she? i love a little—" but the words that were on his tongue crumbled into ash. you'd dragged your nails on his skin in mild annoyance, because how dare he sound so untaxed even though you're still twitching from the aftershocks under him—

the silence spoke volumes; he'd even stopped moving. you did it again, and this time he had whimpered— a pathetic little noise that came from the back of his throat.

delicious.

you wonder. this time, your nails score red lines down the front of his chest, grazing a little too close to his nipple and he groaned. loud.

delectable, like thick, molten chocolate.

now it's your turn to do the talking. "the mighty ghost, rendered speechless. have i performed a miracle?"

peering down at you, his eyes hold a deeper shade than usual. you continue to claw at him, this time targeting his unmistakably sensitive nipple. the sight of his eyes rolling back in sheer bliss ignites a fire within you.

"my, oh my," the smug grin on your face perfectly matches your tone. "tell me what you need, ghost. you need me to mark you up? want to see me on you come morning?"

his growl is animalistic, a shiver licks up your spine. he quickly bends you in half, feet dangling helplessly on his brawny shoulders.

"bite."

it's easy to follow his edict when he hits so deeply in this angle that the pain and pleasure blur into one overwhelming sensation. your teeth sink into the thick meat of his barrel chest, and he abruptly stills, a guttural snarl escaping his lips.

he doesn't speak a word until after; when his seed drips from your glistening slit and sweat-slick skin begins to cool down.

"fuckin' hell, love."

[wandasaura]

RED WINE SUPERNOVA

summary — when wanda first proposed making you cum in front of her friends, you’d thought she’d been joking, but when maria and carol come over for your annual halloween movie night, you realize she wasn’t at all

warning(s) — established relationship, heavy dom/sub elements, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, humiliation, degradation, praise kink, teasing, cum tasting, finger sucking, make out session, nipple stimulation/torture, orgasm control/delay, unintentional edging, fingering, clit stimulation, alludes to maria being dommy, carol and maria watch, possessiveness, eventual orgasm, soft aftercare, brief domestic fluff/cuteness, men/minors dni

kinktober

The fabric of your panties had once felt soft against your skin, comfortable and easy as you slid through the house on sock covered feet, preparing for a movie night with your girlfriends and two of their friends. It had become something of a tradition, a soft moment to look forward to in a life overwise filled with chaos and constant movement. Tonight, you’d thought you’d be cuddled up close to Natasha, holding onto Wanda’s hand as you watched Coraline and countless other films that had always inspired spooky feelings in your heart, but when Natasha had steered you away from the wardrobe, declaring that your outfit was enough on its own despite the nakedness of your uncovered stature in frilly panties with a dull pink bow sewn onto the waistband and a lacey top that matched so sweetly, that soft cotton fabric between your legs had very quickly become damp with persistent arousal and anticipation; no longer comfortable as every time you shifted in place, you were reminded of your desperate state and unwavering vulnerability. 

Maria and Carol had been right on time, barging straight into the quaint albeit perfectly cozy apartment that you, Wanda, and Natasha shared whenever they weren’t crashing in safe houses and Shield facilities off the grid. They’d hardly even glanced in your direction as they barrelled through the door, something that was odd and had your belly twisting with wild emotions and sensations, especially when you came to realize why they were acting as if you weren’t there at all. This had been something brought up in passing conversation one night, merely a wild fantasy that Wanda had shared after coming back from a grueling solo mission. You had always known that she was on the kinkier side, especially out of you and Natasha, but hearing about how she wanted to show you off to her friends, wanted to stake her claim with you in front of an audience of your most trusted acquaintances, had you eagerly agreeing to her little fantasy. That’s all that you thought it would be, a fantasy that stayed within the walls of your shared bedroom, but then Natasha brought it up last week, and now here you were, sat on the couch between both of your girlfriends, your naked thighs glimmering beneath the ambient lighting of the television as one of them held your hand, and the other stroked your inner thigh as if you were nothing more than a priceless object to flaunt. 

Your cheeks were heated with flushed humiliation and undeniable arousal, the center of your panties damp and darkened, although thankfully hidden from view yet not ignored entirely. Every few minutes, when you had been led to believe that Natasha’s heavy, possessive, hand wouldn’t rise any further up your thigh, she would stretch her fingers outward and fiddle with the lace edges of your panties, pulling the elastic material away from the crevice of your thigh only to let it snap back into place like a broken record that wouldn’t stop skipping. Wanda squeezed your hand occasionally, reminding you of her steady presence beside you on the couch, but even that did little to quell your racing thoughts as you tracked the way both Carol and Maria traced the outlines of your pebbled nipples through the dainty tank top adorning your torso and upper half. 

After a while, yet only midway through Coraline which nobody was really paying any attention to, Natasha grew bolder in her ministrations with your wanting body, and as a result, the flush plastered across your cheeks and ears became darker with bated arousal and humiliation. That soft, tantalizing touch on the insides of your thighs became curious fingers sweeping through your sodden folds, prodding at your aching clit and pressing against your wanting entrance that begged to suck her fingers in despite your greatest attempts to remain unbothered and unaware. You hadn’t thought it could get any worse, any more humiliating, but just as you got used to Natasha’s cold touch against your hot cunt desperate for relief, she retraced her fingers, instead holding them up to the light for Wanda and her friends to marvel at. 

As she pulled her fingers apart, revealing stringy ropes of warm arousal clinging to her knuckles and the pads of her delicately scarred fingertips, a whine of mortification fell off of your cat clenched tongue and into the air thick with tension and lust, though like before and every minute since both Carol and Maria had stepped inside the apartment, you were ignored entirely by the onlookers who caught a glimpse at your most vulnerable headspace typically reserved for Wanda and Natasha exclusively. “Well would you look at that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the little slut likes being shown off.” 

A pitiful whine fell off of your lips as Natasha rubbed her fingers together for everyone in the room to see, making an extravagant show of your glistening moisture that dirtied her fingertips. Your face fell into Wanda’s chest on instinct, seeking protection from the dramatic show Natasha was putting on for her own entertainment, however that was hardly allowed, and mere seconds after you settled with your face against the breasts of your younger girlfriend, her fingers were tangling into your hair and pulling you upright, demanding you watch as Natasha unravels your autonomy, reducing you to nothing but a slut for her friends to ogle; and shamefully, it was turning you on more and more. 

A startled gasp fell off of your lips when Maria came closer, leaving Carol behind on the loveseat adjacent from the couch you sat cuddled into, and stalked up to Natasha with slow, calculated strides of maintained authority. She had always radiated a gentle energy, someone that you found comfort and ease being around whenever you visited your girlfriends at whatever Shield base they occupied, but as she stared down at you, traced the evidence of glistening moisture on the insides of your thighs and snickered to herself when she found that telling patch of darkness on the center of your panties, she’d never appeared more dominant, and your heart lurched in your chest at the prospect of misbehaving in her company. 

When her lips wrapped around Natasha’s fingers, cleaning them off without so much as a grimace as she let the taste of your arousal sink into every taste bud on her tongue, a blush so dark it nearly burned your skin crept down your neck and provoked tingles and goosebumps to rise along your spine and in your belly where that coil of anticipation grew bigger and bigger each time Natasha humiliated you further. When Maria moaned softly, only pulling off of Natasha’s fingers because she couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled over in her chest as you squirmed and whined with impatient humiliation, you nearly melted into the couch entirely, not sure what was worse; being beneath her heavy, pointed stare, or watching as your girlfriends shared your intimate sweetness with their friends. 

“My shy girl. Why are you pretending that you don’t like this, huh? Your pussy’s aching for Natty to touch you, and yet you’re pretending to be my shy girl like you don’t want her to make you cum for Carol and Maria to see.” Wanda coaxed tantalizingly, her fingers ghosting along your chest for the first time that night, taking an interest in your pebbled nipples that pleaded for attention just as Maria sat back on the couch with Carol, being abruptly pulled into a searing kiss that conveyed passion and intense need. 

Between the sharp sensations of Wanda fiddling with your pebbled nipples, pinching and pulling and twisting, your eyes remained locked on Carol and Maria who seemed to be lost in the whirlwind of their passionate makeout session. You hadn’t known that they were an item, wouldn’t have suspected it even if the signs had been laid out in front of you, but they moved together so cohesively, it couldn’t have been the first time they found themselves in this position. It was most definitely the first time you found yourself in this position however, and you couldn’t stop the involuntary whine that clawed up your throat and forced its way out when they finally pulled away, a lust drink smirk on Carol’s lips as she practically undressed you with her eyes. 

“You’ve been holding out on us, Romanoff. I didn’t know your girl was so sweet.” Carol’s lips curved with dominance that hadn’t been traceable when Maria had tangled her long fingers into her short blonde locks and tugged so aggressively you feared Carol may recoil from the kiss in momentary pain, but as she sat on the loveseat that you had spent many nights cuddled up on, she looked absolutely dominating with her icy blue stare and sharp jawline. 

“She’s the sweetest, isn’t she?” Natasha’s eyes glimmered with dominance as she turned her attention to you, fully focusing on the pink hues that formed along your cheekbones and skin, marveling at the glaze of submission that had come across your eyes since she’d first denied you access to the wardrobe in your shared bedroom. “Why don’t we take these off, show Carol and Maria how wet you really are for me, hm?” There wasn’t much of a question in her softly uttered words, but there was enough grace given that you knew you could back out at any moment. You declined that subtly placed offer, though your embarrassment didn’t lighten any. You couldn’t explain the strong feelings turning your blood into butterflies, but despite being utterly humiliated, you were beyond turned on. You wanted Natasha to continue to condescend you, you wanted Carol and Maria to watch as she unraveled your walls and brought you through a glorious episode of bliss and pleasure. You wanted to know that despite sharing the sight of your body with two people that you trust most in Wanda and Natasha’s tight knit circle, that you were truly only theirs to have. 

When your panties came off, you tried not to watch as Natasha playfully flung them across the room in Maria and Carol’s direction, or how the Commander grabbed them without batting an eye and inspected the dark patch adorning the center that had laid so snugly against your weeping entrance. You shuddered in anticipation when Natasha pried your legs open just the slightest bit more, draping one of your naked thighs across her material covered lap, opening you up for eager eyes to search. You whined when her fingers swept through your folds again, although this time, she didn’t spare her touches like she had been. Her fingers fell onto your clit heavily, rubbing rushed tight circles on your pebbled bundle of nerves that pleaded for attention and relief. 

When Carol commented about wanting to taste you herself, Wanda’s ministrations on your nipples seemed to double, fueled by possessiveness that was intimidating and unspeakably arousing, and through a haze of intense pleasure that was sparking through your body at various places, you just barely recall her telling Danvers to remember the agreement at hand. Her possessive touch lit your body up, and before you could comprehend the desperation that was truly turning you into a mindless slut for two of the most powerful and influential people in the world to witness, your hips searched for more from Natasha in desperate twists and pathetic reaches. 

“How long do you think it’ll take me to make the little slut cum?” Natasha wagered, her smirk devious as she stopped rubbing tight circles around your clit without so much as a warning that you were about to lose what you’d been begging for all night, her eyes trained on Carol and Maria, paying no mind to the way you babbled and sobbed for relief, having been seconds away from an orgasm that was now ebbing away into the abyss. Desperately you fought for her attention, arching your hips up against her hand, attempting to gain back even an ounce of the pressure she had been providing, but Wanda’s arms snaked around your waist and pulled you back before you could succeed. 

“A minute.” Carol laughed, her tone painfully condescending as her eyes traced the gleam of arousal that had marked your skin with glistening moisture, your pussy on full display as Natasha unintentionally spread you farther, giving both Danvers and Hill an extraordinary sight of your pulsating clit and weeping hole that was desperate for any ounce of attention. 

“Fifty six seconds, but nobody's counting.” Maria’s response was dry, laced with infectious dominance that was spurring Natasha on to be better, harsher. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when two fingers sunk into your cunt, enveloped by velvety walls that squeezed her knuckles tight. There was no time to grow used to the stretch as she worked you open, but it felt so good you didn’t care. 

Her thumb found your clit again, and relentlessly she worked you back up towards that orgasm you’d been desperately chasing. Wanda’s fingers didn’t stop pulling and twisting at your nipples, but at some point, she’d pulled your top low, trading in thin fabric for warm flesh. You hardly flushed when you realized all of you was now exposed to Carol and Maria, so desperate for an orgasm that you let it fade away entirely. Strained whines and pleads fell off of your lips as Natasha worked you closer and closer to a blissful orgasm embarrassingly quick, but she kissed your insecurities away as she mumbled for you to let go, to let her make it all better. 

“Shh, there we go. There we go, pretty girl. Making such a mess for me. It’s okay.” She coaxed softly, pecking your lips multiple times as she withdrew her fingers, quickly finding a blanket to throw over your body, no longer wanting you visible to her closest friends who seemed to understand, and didn’t comment on her quickness to cover you up. 

“Forty seven seconds. Impressive.” Maria taunted lightly, her smile dazzling as she flashed you the softest look you’d ever seen her give. You blushed, hiding your face in Wanda’s chest as she allowed you to get comfortable, seeking out her tender affection that she would never dream of withholding. “Where are you going?” Maria narrowed her eyes at Natasha when she noticed the redhead itching to rise from the couch, her arms slowly falling off of your still trembling frame as you leaned heavily against Wanda in post-orgasm bliss and hazy submission. 

“To get her a water?.” Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed as she found herself explaining the routine steps to your preferred aftercare scene that she had engraved in her mind like a sacred text since starting her relationship with you, but Maria merely scoffed and stood up herself, tenderly handing your panties back to Wanda who took them appreciatively. 

“I’ll get her some water. You make sure that she’s okay.” Was her affectionately mumbled response. You didn’t really pay any attention to Natasha easing your panties back up your legs, or Wanda softly fixing your top over your breasts, but by time Maria returned with a glass of water, you were dressed and snuggled into Wanda’s lap contently, holding tightly to Natasha’s hand, just barely able to focus on the credits rolling across the screen.  

“Thank you.” You mumbled to Maria when she passed the water off to you, smiling encouragingly before she took a seat next to Carol again, seemingly unphased by what had just happened, although it did ease the knot of anxiety in your belly. Nothing had changed, they didn’t see you any differently, and if anything, these were the best post-scene cuddles that Wanda had ever given, partly because her possessiveness fueled her need to hold you tight and stake her claim despite there being no threat. 

“What do you say we watch Halloween Town?” Carol mused, seemingly just as eager to assure your comfortability as Maria, to which you were beyond grateful for. 

“Twitches. Someone thinks it’s fun to watch witch movies and compare everything about them to me.” Wanda giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, silently settling the question of which film would be the one that you all agreed to pay attention to. Maria agreed easily, fighting Natasha for the remote and winning, victoriously scrolling through your streaming platform until she found what she desired. 

“I love you.” You mumbled to Wanda, slouching against her chest as your attention drifted between her soft touch and the opening scene beginning to play at a low volume. 

“I love you too, baby. So much more than you’ll ever know.”

[melon-fodder]

-> KINKTOBER MASTERLIST <-

♡ WARNINGS: reader has a pussy and tits, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, demeaning pet names (doll, sweetheart, bitch), outdoor sex, forced proximity, toji is insufferably hot, kinda dub-con

♡ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

♡ NOTE: was so hoping I would get this one done and I did, so ha! For anyone who has been brought here by this piece, please know I do not regularly post JJK, so sorry! Enjoy reading~

This cabin is a joke. Unliveable. He shouldn’t be in a shithole like this. Toji comes from money. He’s used to living in luxury–penthouses with big screens and full bars, king-sized beds with sheets made from Egyptian cotton.

So the goddamn cot in this fucking Lincoln Logs-ass shack is frankly insulting, and if he wasn’t in hiding, he would march right into his pretentious boss’ office and give him a piece of his mind and maybe the barrel of his gun.

The only good thing about Toji’s current predicament is that he’s not alone. You are also with him, two assassins laying low in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Of course, he may as well be all by himself; it’s not as if you’re actually paying him any attention.

You’re pissed at him, acting like a little bitch because he may have almost botched a job the two of you were on. So what? The guy is still dead. Riddled with a few too many bullets, sure, but that’s neither here nor there.

At least Toji still gets to ogle you, watch you shuffle around the cabin in leggings and loose sweatshirts. No bra, either. Yeah, he’s seen the way your nipples peek out from under the material. Fucking tease. Just as tempting as the way spandex hugs your ass and, in some cases when Toji is lucky, perfectly outlines what he knows must be the prettiest little pussy.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you bite out, glaring at him from over your mug of steaming tea.

Toji smirks, spread out on the threadbare couch while you stand in the shitty kitchen about six feet away from him. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, doll.”

“Oh, fuck you. You’ve been watching me like I’m your next target. I’m getting tired of it.”

“Well, boo-fucking-hoo,” he sneers. “There’s nothing better to do in this pile of shit. May as well enjoy the view.”

You set your cup down too forcefully, liquid sloshing out from the side, then stomp over to him, leaning into his space in an oh-so tantalizing way. You’re putting yourself in a real precarious position, he thinks, smart enough to keep his mouth shut as you fume.

“You even think about putting your hands on me, and I swear I’ll turn you into a fucking Ken doll.”

Toji grins sideways. “That mean you’ll touch it?”

The force of your slap is a little jarring, he has to admit, but not at all surprising. You’ve been riled up since the two of you arrived days ago, and Toji is not doing anything to help you relax on your little getaway. The complete opposite, actually. Truthfully, he’s a little impressed that it’s taken you this long to hit him.

But, you made the first move (he loves that in a woman), so he has no choice but to retaliate, swiftly pulling you into his lap, unashamed of his now half-hard dick.

“Jesus Christ, you’re sick,” you yell, struggling in his grip, rubbing your plump little ass all over his cock. “Let go of me!”

“Keep squirmin’ like that, and I’m gonna make a mess in my pants, babygirl.”

Unlikely–he’s not some teenager who’ll cum at a little grinding–but the way your face morphs with disgust is too good. “Would you clean it up for me if I asked nicely?” he teases further, grunts when your heel comes down hard against his shin.

His grip loosens enough for you to escape his hold, and Toji mumbles a dejected, “tease,” as you shoot to the other side of the very small room.

“I will kill you right fucking here if you ever do that again,” you grit through your teeth, hands shaking where they’re balled into fists.

Toji shrugs, annoyed, unsatisfied, and throbbing in the confines of his sweats. “Try it. I’ll have you pinned faster than you can even reach your gun.”

You huff, knowing damn well he’s right. You’re good at killing; he won’t deny that.

He’s just better.

~

Toji starts playing with you more after that, seeing how many of your buttons he can press without actually facing your promised wrath.

It’s the way he stares at you, casually brushing up against you in seemingly innocent ways. He walks around shirtless, making it impossible for you to not look at him.

Really, he just takes up as much room as he possibly can, ensures that you don’t get a moment’s peace. It’s obviously affecting you. He watches you get more and more restless as the days go by. You’re both bored out of your minds with only a few channels on the fucking box television to keep you entertained.

There is literally nothing to do but sleep and fuck. Toji’s been doing a lot of both (though, he wishes it was your pussy he was fucking and not his fist in the shower).

You, however, choose walking over sex, going on long strolls around the perimeter. You say that you’re being vigilant, but Toji knows you’re just trying to get away from him.

“You know, if you’d let me, I could help you relax,” he offers one day, trying to tune out the sound of your never ending footsteps as you pace back and forth. “Seriously, you’ve gotta simmer down.”

“You realize there are several bounties out on both of us right now, right? Like, does that not bother you?”

“Not really,” he replies. “People have been wanting to kill me since I was born. This ain’t nothin’ new.”

You stop pacing and look at him, eyebrows pinched in adorable confusion. “That’s… actually kinda sad.”

“Right?” Toji agrees, pouting dramatically as he tries, “wanna help me feel better about my sad, sordid life?”

He laughs when you groan, scrubbing your hands down your face. “You just won’t fucking quit, will you?”

“Not until I get to feel your pussy squeezin—”

You cut him off, “just stop!” voice all pitchy and grating. However, the next thing out of your mouth is like music to Toji’s ears: “if I let you fuck me, will you get off my back about it?”

He lifts an eyebrow, ignoring the way his cock twitches, then lies through his teeth, “absolutely,” because he already knows that once he’s had you, he’s gonna want you over and over and over again.

Sucking your teeth, you cross your arms over your chest and grumble, “fine,” as your mouth twists downward. “But later. For now I need to be… not around you.”

“Whatever you gotta do to get ready, sweetheart. You know where to find me.”

Except Toji doesn’t stay still for long. He waits for just a few minutes, long enough for you to let your guard down. Long enough for you to get a head start. And then takes off in the same general direction that you did.

You’re nowhere in his line of sight, but you’re easy to follow especially since you don’t actually know you’re being tracked. Your boots leave trails in the brown, fallen leaves, steps echoing off every branch that surrounds you.

A chilly breeze whistles through the trees, but Toji is too hot to really feel it. You may be covered up head to toe in a flannel and tights, but you won’t be for long. Soon, he’ll strip you down, and by that time, you’ll be thankful for the wind.

You move slowly, absentmindedly, look lighter now that you think you’re alone. Your shoulders aren’t as tense, and your fingers move as if you’re rehearsing a song. Different from the high-strung little bitch he’s had to live with for the past week.

Too busy watching you, Toji isn't focused on the ground beneath his feet. The sound of a twig snapping may as well be a gunshot, and you drop into a crouch immediately, neck practically snapping as you twist to find the source: him.

You lock eyes with each other, and something must flash in his, something dangerous—something hungry. He stays still, watching you watch him. Assessing. Registering him as the threat that he is.

“You gonna run from me?” he taunts, and you answer by doing exactly that, taking off at a sprint.

It makes Toji’s blood race in a way he’s only experienced when holding a weapon, when spattered with blood. It’s the rush he feels when he’s holding someone’s life in the palm of his hand.

He hurries after you, not quite at his full speed—that would end this too quickly—but fast enough to keep his heart pumping, quick and heavy where it rattles in his ribcage.

You veer left and he follows, giving you enough space to make you feel like you just might outpace him, that maybe you’ll get somewhere safe.

Boots slipping on the foliage underfoot, you careen forward only to catch yourself on your hands and push forward like a track star. Toji is locked on to your every movement now, the pump of your legs and arms, the way your hair whips around your face, the panicked little noises that slip from your mouth that you think he can’t hear.

Oh, but he can. He hears and sees it all, and he wants it. He wants you.

You have no fucking idea how cute you are like this, eyes widening when you chance a glance over your shoulder to find him gaining on you.

A high pitched shriek, and then he sees it—the ghost of a smile, a hysterical giggle bubbling out of your chest.

Toji feels his face split into a manic grin, desire coursing through his veins, clogging his arteries, making his mouth water and his dick twitch. When he gets his hands on you…

“You havin’ fun?” he calls from behind you, blessed with another look from you, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him, and it’s that curiosity that cuts this little game short.

You trip over a root and go down hard this time, grunt when all the air is pushed from your lungs. He doesn’t give you the chance to get back up, just puts his foot in the middle of your back to keep you in place.

Toji clicks his tongue in an admonishing tsk, presses down on you with a little more weight when you start to wiggle.

“I see why you’re so scared about those bounties,” he muses, “you’re way too fuckin’ easy to track down.”

“I wasn’t—hh—” he pushes harder just for the fun of it and is rewarded with a little squeak of desperation. “—wasn’t trying to hide.”

“No?” Toji removes his foot only to lower himself, squatting over you as he slinks a hand around your neck and tugs you toward him so that your back bends into a painful arch. “Why’s that?”

“Fuck you,” you manage to gasp, your fingers curling into the dirt, feet scrambling for traction to relieve some of the pressure he’s putting on your spine.

He laughs darkly, “you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? This your idea of foreplay?”

Without letting you answer, he lets go of you and flips you over, takes in the sight of your heaving chest and the wild look in your eyes.

“Tell me, doll, did that get your pussy wet?” He reaches between your legs, rubs your mound through your tights and smirks at how much heat is radiating from your core.

“Not so much fight in you now, is there?” he teases, licking his lips when you rub yourself against his palm.

“Would you just… nng fuck—just get on with it,” you grit.

“Get on with what?”

“Just fuck me!” you plead. It comes off as a demand, but Toji knows better, appreciates the position you’re in. You’re nothing but a scared dog, snapping at a hand that’s only trying to feed you.

“Right here?” he questions in fake surprise, “in the woods? Dirty girl.”

“Toji, I swear to God—”

He shuts you up with a harsh kiss, the kind that bruises, leaves lips split, swollen, and slick with spit. The kind of kiss that makes you chase him after he’s pulled away.

“You talk too much,” he states plainly, and all you do is slowly blink at him.

Yeah, he’s got you now. You’re fucking hooked, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

He’s nearly fully hard, grinds his cock against your stomach so that you can feel what you’ve gotten yourself into. You whimper and roll your hips, baiting him further, but he doesn’t go for it. Not yet.

Instead he sits back on his knees and paws at your tights, starting to pull them down before he gets impatient and simply tears. It doesn’t take much effort; they’re made of cheap material and Toji is, well, stronger than the average person.

You make a noise of protest, but it dies in your throat when he spreads your legs and stuffs your already dripping cunt with two of his fingers.

“I knew you were getting off on that—just like I knew you’d have the most gorgeous fuckin’ pussy,” he drawls, watching the way his fingers split you open and groaning at how warm and soft you are. God damn, you are going to feel divine wrapped around his cock.

“Come on, baby, tell me you liked it…” he licks a stripe up your neck, his free hand slipping under your sweatshirt to grope your tits— “heart’s beating so fast. You excited?”

You shake your head and buck your hips all at once, and when Toji leans close again, you surge up to catch him in another cruel kiss. This time, you fist your hands in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt.

He lets you think you’re at least halfway in control, but the longer you taste him, the faster he fingerfucks you, his palm slapping against your clit as he increases the pace until you start to grow tense beneath him.

He knows that look, that tell-tale coil of muscles. You stop kissing him, breaths getting short and quick, but Toji keeps his face close to yours, growls at you to, “look at me while you cum,” as he pulls your first, messy orgasm from you.

You truly are a sight to behold, whole body spasming as your cunt sucks at his fingers. You break his gaze when your eyes roll into the back of your head, lips trembling around poorly formed pleas.

It feels like his last shred of sanity snaps. Seeing you run from him was one thing, triggered something primal in his brain that made him chase—hunt—but this, having you laid out on the dirt and the leaves…

This is how it was always supposed to be, Toji thinks to himself as he pulls his cock free from his pants. It throbs with every beat of his heart, pulsing in his palm and leaking pearly precum.

You’re soft and pliant from your orgasm, offering only a whimper when he readjusts and hikes your leg over his shoulder.

“Gonna be good for me, yeah?” he huffs, lining himself up with your sopping entrance, thick head prodding at your squishy ring of muscle. “Just take it like a good girl, just—”

He cuts himself off with a groan as he starts pushing in, bullying his way into your perfect cunt and reveling in the noises it makes. You suck him deeper and deeper, and Toji laughs at the expression painting your pretty face: shock, maybe a little fear as you struggle to look down at where you’re attached, watching as he fills you inch by inch.

Your body stretches around him, makes him feel like fucking Moses the way your spongy walls make room for his girth.

“Fuck… fuck, Toji, you’re—”

“Sh, sh, I know, sweetheart, just a little more,” he lies. He’s maybe halfway in, but there’s no way he’s stopping now, not until his cockhead is bruising your cervix.

You whine, back arching, and Toji tries to soothe you with a clumsy kiss only to hiss when you catch his lip and bite hard.

He grunts, tries to pull back, but you keep him still, drawing blood from his mouth first then his ribs when you claw at him. He can feel his shirt cling to the shallow wounds and growls when you release him, the sudden loss of pressure just as painful as the initial bite.

“Jesus, woman…”

“You—hah—deserve it,” you choke, stained mouth opening wider and wider with every inward thrust.

Your cry echoes in the woods when he bottoms out without warning, and Toji immediately sets a merciless pace. He watches you coat his thick shaft in cream, your poor little fuckhole so leaky and stretched. The noises you’re making are more animal than human, needy whines and pained grunts as you take everything he has to give.

Toji fists a hand in your hair, gives your head a little shake and watches the way your eyes slowly roll to meet his. Your lips are swollen, still red with his own blood, but they part when he tells you to, “open wide,” so he can spit on your tongue. Toji grins when you swallow, finally finally too out of your damn mind to talk back.

“That’s a good bitch,” he mutters, and when he sees your mouth twitch into a little smile, he pushes further, “that’s all you wanted, yeah? You just needed to be put in your place, huh, baby?”

He throws your other leg over his shoulder and locks both arms behind you, hands curling up your back to grip your shoulders. Rutting into you relentlessly, Toji kisses and bites all over your neck and chest, licking up the drool that slips from your mouth.

You’ll be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you’re tough, so you’ll live. And even if he has to listen to you bitch and moan, it’ll be worth it after feeling your sweet pussy wrapped around him, gushing all over his fat cock with every orgasm he forces out of you.

“T-Ji…”

It comes out more as a cough, one that Toji ignores as he feels his climax approach. He uses you like a toy, fucking into you over and over and committing the sticky squelch of your pussy to memory. He’s gonna replay this masterpiece over and over for years to come, fucking his fist while imagining the way you look right now—tears streaming down the sides of your face, lips spit slick and swollen, skin all bruised up from his own mouth and fingers.

Fuck, you’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous, and you’re taking his cock so well, pussy swallowing him up and squeezin’ so so nice, he has to let go. He has to—

“Oh fuck, baby, gonna fill you up so good. You ready?”

You respond with a sort of gurgle that Toji takes as confirmation, and after a few more thrusts he empties his heavy balls inside of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum so much or so hard in his life, hot white painting your guts in viscous ropes until it starts seeping out around his cock.

Your poor cunt is so swollen, lips all puffy and messy with slick and cum. And that fat little clit—Toji pinches it, probably too mean, and coos at you to relax and take it when you start to sniffle.

“Sorry, baby. Gotta make sure you get yours too, right?” He knows you already have, but he can’t help but toy with you a little longer.

Besides, you’re being so good for him now, so docile as your body twitches, jaw moving like you want to say something but can’t, eyes rolling all around your pretty head until your muscles seize up and you cum for him one more time.

“There we go—that’s a good girl, see?” You blink teary eyes at him, a deep breath shuddering through you as one, maybe two senses return to you. “Feel better?”

You nod slowly as if confused. Or high. Probably the latter considering Toji is feeling pretty stoned too, a little dizzy as he sits up straight and leans back on his heels.

“Good. Next time you need the attitude fucked outta ya’, just tell me instead of actin’ like a bitch, ‘kay?”

A little smirk curls onto your face, and before Toji can react, you’re sitting up with two hands wrapped around his throat.

“Call me that again, and I’ll show you what a bitch can really do.”

Your palm presses against his windpipe in a threatening way. Your eyes shine with dark promise.

And Toji’s cock twitches at the idea of riling you up all over again.

[q1ngqve]

CW; dark content, gun kink, penetration with gun (v), slight dacryphilia

boothill and gun kink grrrrrr 😼 teases you so much when you accidentally admit that you have a thing for guns and that if it’s with him, you’d feel safe

sits you on his lap, back facing him as he plays with your boobs, squeezing and pinching at your nipples!!! his teeth would be biting nonstop at your neck, leaving red marks everywhere while he teases at your clothed cunt with his gun

rips away your panties easily because he’s literally made of metal 🤭 makes you look in the mirror in front of you as he rubs the barrel against your wet folds!!!!!!!!! cooes at you because why are you so wet for a gun? are you that turned on by a piece of metal? you know it could kill you with just a click right?

he relishes in your fear and embarrassment 🗣️ uses it to his advantage and rubs the tip at your clit, making your hips buck and you whining into your hands! to which he ‘tsk’s and pulls them away >:/ you’re supposed to be looking at the way he plays with your pussy

stuffs his gun into you without warning! and you’ll cry out in terror when you hear the safety click, the sound loud and piercing, ringing in your ears 😧 you’d grab at his wrists and make eye contact with him through the mirror, eyes tearing up as he thursts his gun in and out of you

kisses you on your cheek and tells you it’s okay! don’t worry! as long as you’re good and cum for him, he won’t shoot! he would never hurt you! you’re his everything!

makes you cum so hard on his gun, you squirt 😋 he’d laugh and throw his gun away before sticking his metal fingers into you! he wants to see you do it again, but this time on his fingers!!!!!

[1800titz]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ & ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ

KNEELING LAMIA | Witch hunter!Harry x Witch!reader

There's too much tension in this cat-and-mouse. Inevitably, it stretches too taut and snaps.

★18+

This is ᴋɴᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʟᴀᴍɪᴀ for the KINKTOBER projects. Witch x Witch hunter au.

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CONTENT/WARNINGS: enemies. p-in-v. degradation. praise. pussy slapping (light). dom/sub undertones. rough sex. bro is simply kind of an asshole, but it's in an attractive way imo.

WC: 3.7K

You hate him. 

You hate him, you hate the grease in his derisory, lopsided smile, the one, two-tick at the corners of his mouth, like an omen on the hollow barrel of a cocked gun. The stupid white straightness of them, slick with spit and glimmering off the glowing oil lantern. 

The soft humanness in his unchiseled eyes. When they’re narrowed into slits, the color is so soft, so delicate, that they don’t feel nearly as sharp as he intends. The preternatural juxtaposition of a human having eyes that are so mesmerizing is absurd— the pink-rimmed oil painting of his irises, mounted in white, under the tarp of his lashes (they’re long, dark, and cast shadows across the green sfumato). You can nearly find sunstones flecking like gold flakes wading the surface of a pool, if you look close enough.

But the bands are eroded now. Lacking. You always thought his eyes were like the moss speckling the grove in your back garden. Now, the vibrancy of it, crawling up the trunks, feels like a distant memory.

Smeared, pupils bleeding wide like spilled ink. 

(You loathe the way his green reminds you of the malachite scattered across your window sill.)

You hate his hands, too. His fingers. The way they notch on reins, and the steel hilt of a gun. The way his pointer stretches across the metal trigger— click— and the way the aim is off. Misses. A bole eats the bullet, and you think, after so many tries, he has to not miss.

He has to not miss.

But he misses, and misses, and misses— the cat and mouse is an old, familiar game, but a fractured part of you thinks he misses on purpose. And you wonder who’s really the cat; when he’ll finally admit you’ve been filling his shoes out in the hunt, long before his time. 

But you hate his hands most because of the way they touch you. The way they feel good. Pinching your bones in place, thumbprints carving into your skin. 

Pressure points— he’s no good with a gun, but he’s good at finding pressure points, scoping them with his fingertips. Squeezing in. 

You hate his teeth, because you hate him, and he hates you, and you want to sweep them off the floor when you fracture every little bone in the composite of his skull with your palms and shatter them out with your fingers. The way they chew into your nipples and stab a crushed squeak out of you. 

(It’s the nature of the game— a double helix. Taijitu. Water and oil. You’re meant to despise each other, because dark has to exist to balance light. There has to be a villain in every story, otherwise the narrative collapses—)

You can’t stand the way his stupidly fat cock splits you on him, around him. The way when he groans, the way it starts as a hum between his ribs, and metastasizes into that yawning pry of his mouth, his soft lips. 

(Conflict. Resolution. Recycle.)

His hand pawing at a handful of your breast, like kneading dough. Testing the heft when it shakes under the pressure of his hips slamming in wet squelches, sack slapping to your sticky cunt. The blunt of his nails scraping down your sides, prying in where your waist tapers, and wrapping the barbs of his fingers around, where the rungs sit at your back, to lug you against him in filthy, wet smacks. Again— again. 

(Fuck, fuck, fuck—)

“—Fuck,” you mewl, scratching out at his temple, fingertips curling into the burnt umber tufts they can reach, pulling, tangling. Scraping. Your thumb grazes his cheekbone. He bites down on your nipple, instead, where he’s been rolling it between his teeth with his tongue, and grunts. It makes you squirm on the table and arch.

When he unlatches and lurches up to loom over you, he looks wild. Like an untamed beast— reminds you of the wolf that lingers by your doorstep— that you’ve lugged along into your kitchen. Let him splay you across the big, oak table that squeals and rattles under the punishing pace he’s set with his hips. 

“Fuck— no,” Harry grunts, and slams your wrist down onto the table, beside your head, your stuttering pulse. Cuffed in his grip. Your fingers twitch. His throat bobs when he swallows.

The tip of his tongue flicks out, drags across his lips, and you think of a scenting serpent. He huffs.

“Ought to declaw you,” he muses, hunching over you, narrowed eyes oscillating from your nails to your face. Voice a husk that oozes condescension. As if you’re an animal— a feral cat that needs its talons extracted. 

“Fuck you,” you spit, and the words— the petulant tone, the way your chest rattles when his cock throbs inside of you— are enough to crook the corners of his pink mouth. Wry. Acid across his lips, in the ridges between his teeth. 

He sticks his thumb in your mouth, but not really; presses in against the flat of your front tooth when you bare your canines, squeezing at your cheeks. Pressure points— under the side of your mandible, beneath your cheekbone.

“Better watch that mouth,” he taunts. When his eyebrows climb, three ruckles seep across his forehead. Maybe evidence of how he means it, how firm his resolve is, but the way he tips his head down at you, it's goading—

Your chest rolls. “Fuck— you.”

And you get it. You do. Coexisting is an absurd, incompatible fantasy. Deluded, when you cup your teeth around the world and still feel hungry. It only stretches so wide before he’s under your teeth, too, and nobody wants to live in a hungry, sharp mouth. It’s a means of resource. Sanctum; I want sanctum, and you my friend, are preventing that like gum jammed into a lock on a gate. 

This slow dance is called perfect, incongruous symbiosis, like a winter coat and the hot sun. You don’t fit together. You’ll never work— not in tandem. 

It’s just that he doesn’t get that it’s the circle of life.

A snake and a mouse. That works. It’s unpleasant, but it doesn’t have to be watched. 

But it’s ugly. You get the angry men with the pitchforks. You get him— vigilante, here to stab the head off the python with a wooden stick and wring his hands out after, like the hero he’ll be if he manages to tame the beast (glorified pest control— snub the snake in the backyard). You accepted a long time ago that all the little people would get mad that you were eating their little people. 

Nasty, vicious thing in the back garden— get rid of it.  

But hey— that’s life. The ugly, vicious wasp nest dangling off a poplar tree deserves to exist, too, because that’s the anomalous, hideous shape mother nature’s hand squeezed it into. And that’s, you think, the disconnect. The electrical cord spitting white-hot, fizzing sparks from where it’s been gnawed down the middle.

You swallow. His eyes are blade-sharp. So unco. Contemplating, calculating.

You get all that. What you can’t wrap your mind around is the untethered snap between you, like a bungee cord lugging you into a collision. It makes you feel feverish. The fracture in the foundation below you, every atom bred from this, predestined narrative. The sizzle beneath your skin— a charred brand in the shape of his kiss under the layers of your dermis— (a lowly mimicry of what lovemaking is, all teeth). It’s brutal. Sharp. A skirt of canines across your collarbone. A notch across the bone. A means to satiate, a compound of loathing, and pining, and the cozening haze of desire. The yearning curdled in the spiral of the communal pool of your animosity.   

Because he smells like the rain rapping across your roof when you stand out with the door propped, sticking to the fireweed in rivulets under your porch steps. Like suede. Musk. The wilting coriander sprig on your altar. Your resolve is wicker snapping under his thumb. A melting glacier under the heavy heat dripping from his eyes. You don’t like it. You can’t get enough.

You tip your chin up and his thumb snags on the blunt edges, smushes into your lower lip. When his heavy cock slips out of you and slaps up against his belly, a whine prickles at the back of your mouth. You encase it with your throat like a dirty secret left to write on paper. You won’t whine for him. But he’s thick. His cock is stupidly fat, and it throbs like he can feel the encroaching emptiness between your legs for himself. 

You won’t whine, but you feel hollow, and it makes your hips cant up involuntarily. Forward. To him— you hate that— but the stamp of his palm to your cunt makes your thought process crumble apart like notes plummeting off their bars on a sheet of music. A smack of skin on skin is the aria of your twisted affection stretching and collapsing. 

It doesn’t hurt. Not really. There’s a dull pang that blooms there, under his touch, but it feels smothered under the white-hot lightning streak of shock that jolts your shoulders and sculpts your face. The mortified, blistering heat that spumes your cheeks when the whites of your eyes pool a little wider. You flounder up at him wordlessly. 

Harry hums. It’s haughty, and mocking, and it makes something ripple in your underbelly. “Say that again, little girl?”

You swallow. Squirm. The pseudonym has something bristling in your chest. You’re not a little girl. This thicket has belonged to you for hundreds of years. 

But the warm prickle between your thighs is an ugly, ugly paradox. 

And you hate the way his hand is this humongous thing between your thighs, across your sex, swallowing your smarting cunt in the cup of his palm. The way he leaves it where it landed. His thumb stretched out and lingering in the crease between your mons and your tucked up thigh. You hate the way you drool slick against his fingers, the way your clit pulses under the heel of his hand. Your chest rolls. 

His amusement is acidic. Patronization sloshes off his eyes and burns a hole right through the layer of your mettle when he cocks his head down at you, the way your hips hitch. His lips twist. “Oh you liked that, did you?”

Your face pinches. The corners of your lips curl down despite the way your empty pussy flutters under his skin.

“No."

He makes a sound. A hum that granulates into a rich chuckle, and his eyes flicker off your face, to his hand, and back, and back. Something brews in the depths under his lashes, you think— a sinkhole cratering into the ground beneath the canopy of the woods, driving the forest ground out into a void— watching the breadth of his hand envelop between your thighs. Maybe at the molten heat, or the way he can undeniably feel you clenching up. Throbbing. Against him. For him. 

“Is that right? Look at that, mm— drippy, little pussy,” Harry tells you, voice hardly over a whisper. The words are a livewire zigzagging up your spine, riding the arches of the knobs, spilling something noxious and cloudy along your cerebrospinal fluid. 

It goes straight to your head. 

“Needy, little cunt. Bet you could cum just from me slapping it.”

His middle finger grazes your asshole. Your toes curl, you can’t even argue, despite the vitriol puddling on the back of your tongue like stagnant water. He tips his head. Smiles. The flash of teeth carves an ache into you that makes your bones ring.

“Aren’t you… just the sweetest thing when you’re put in your place,” Harry murmurs down at you, eyebrows climbing, and he’s— unctuous. A headache. The kind that clusters around the arch of your skull and squeezes taut like a bundle of rubber bands. Talking down to you like you’re a wily thing for him to put into a corner, once and for all. Like your demesne isn’t stamped in his soggy footprints, layer after layer, year after year.

You bare your teeth and jut your chin defiantly, but then he drags his thumb down along your pebbled clit, and it makes your shoulders wobble. 

You used to cut hunters down like the loggers muscling in on your timber. Hatred was a pearl folded into your heart. A bead tucked into the soft, fleshy tissue between the little pockets of your ventricles, and it stung like a splinter in your gums. 

You wear it in your chest like his name shaved into a rib. The perfect harmony of dysfunction. You don’t know why being under him kindles a flame. Just that it does. He’s live coal, and you crackle over what he gives you.

The moment of reticence between you has that shattering weight of your little truce, and you’re reminded of the plunge from the hillscape of your dignity. 

Maybe it’s worse that you don’t mind. 

His shoulders swell. You like the spit-slick rim of his mouth, the way the color is an insignia of your teeth making landfall. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

When he plants his hand beside your ear and stretches forward a little more, his cockhead slips across your clit. Hot, like a firebrand coated in sateen. You curl your fingers and realize your wrist is still pinned down. His eyes sway to it like he knows what you’re thinking, and his mouth twitches.

“Gonna keep your hands to yourself?” Harry purrs, grunting when you roll your chin away in scorn. 

“Because—“ His finger prods onto your cheek. Then, two. Under your jaw, enough pressure to turn your head. “You know I love that wild shit. But, can’t have you fucking up my pretty face—“

The humor coagulating his tone tastes bitter when you breathe it from the air. Swallowing it down into your lungs where it ghosts with the subatomic heaviness of want. Your eyes flit. You hate him— you hate—

He grins down at you. Not quite. Close-lipped, eyes vats that shelter his dogma. The intensity of his seriousness. “Can’t do that,” he muses, but his tone is softer than his countenance. 

You look away. And you don’t watch it, but he huffs, like he’s losing patience for your still-not-quite-subservience and lack of zeal. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. Hums. 

“Mm. Come on, doll. You know I don’t want you if you don’t want me,” he tells you, but his mouth crooks because he knows— he knows. 

You blink up at him. His eyes burn down at you from the bridge of his nose, and it feels like you’ve been swaddled into a sudden, wet heatwave. The words would nearly be considerate if it wasn’t for the condescending undertow that spills under the vowels like an oil slick. 

His pointer traces the corner of your mouth, brows furrowing as he tails the motion with his gaze. “Just you say the word.”

And despite the way you blister, something itching under your skin, you won’t. Your teeth are clenched, but you couldn’t pry them apart with pliers to turn him down, not with the fever spilling its way across you. You settle for contempt— let it set your face like a cast congealing, but he doesn’t chase the tail of your indignation with anything beyond mockery. 

He stares back at you. Doesn’t let it wither, drowns in the deluge of your inkpools, mouth curling but-not-quite. 

“No,” he sighs, after a beat of your lull— bereft of your protest— drawing his forefinger away and slinking it down the naked space of your sternum, then around your swollen nipple. You gnaw into your cheek. “You know what I think?”

“—I don’t care,” you pick your head up to hiss. 

You expect to face something crumbling at the retort. Discipline. Retribution— to watch something clot inside of him the way it wads in your chest, caking gravity across his features because— need to be taught a lesson in respect. What did I say about watching that mouth? 

But it flickers over him without a hitch. Slides off. 

Instead, he doubles down, hunching back over you. “I think you love this cock too much. Don’t you? Got you wrapped around it, by now.”

The flame from your core licks up to flare at the apples of your cheeks. He breathes when he straightens out. Deep. Like the prelude to a sigh, and you wonder if the same burning kisses along the nooks of his lungs. You don’t say anything, and he pulls his hand back.

“That’s right,” Harry coos, cocking his head down at you, “Just a sweet, cockdrunk, little whore, by now.”

Your eyes narrow into thin slits. Dagger splits. The wobble in your voice is a swordblade. “Shut— up.”

He laughs. Laughs. This muted, soundless thing that manifests more in his shoulders, the jolt across their breadth. The crater beside a smile line. He shakes his head, and cups the root of his cock with his fist. Your eyes follow it. You swallow.

“Mm, no,” he muses, gaze pooling where the mushroomed ridges of his tip slide along your sopping rim, your puffy lips, your clit, “I think you like it. Gushing all over the table.”

Embarrassment ties its tendrils along the base of your throat. Cogon grass germinating and feathering out across your esophagus, until you’re choking on your spit. You grit your teeth. Your hips nudge up. Forward. He underscores the presumption by pulling the head of his cock back, and sundering the string of tacky slick that’d stretched between him and your seam.

“Makin’ a fucking mess with your messy, desperate pussy,” Harry tells you, pressing his index to his thumb and prying them apart for emphasis. Your slick shimmers in the light. “Look at you. There’s a fuckin’ puddle.”

Your face creases. Cheeks buzzing, white-hot. You feel yourself leaking down along the cleft of your ass, and your fingers itch. A thunderbolt streaks across when you recognize that your hand is still flat against the table. Just where he left it. 

He aims his cock back against you, so thick in his palm, and murmurs, “You want it?”

You don’t know how you ended up here.

You do, but the motions between point A and B feel like a nebulous smear. Hands in motion. Fabric tangling across the floor. Teeth, and tongues, and bones, and claws.

(“Always liked an older woman,” you remember he told you, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. The hubris of a boy sewn into the shoulders of a man. The irony of your preternatural youth folded into his proposition as his eyes roamed across your face.)

(“So let’s put …this,” a motion between with a jutted finger, a murmur drizzled in allure, tucked like a secret into the shape of the night, “aside for a time-out, you and me.”)

You don’t know why you said yes. How. Why your body reacts like he’s a breath you need, whispering along your lungs. Why you let him unspool you over his fingers, his tongue, fucking into you like he was starving. 

But you nod.

You nod, and he presses his weepy tip against your cunt, and it only takes a nudge for him to pry you open around him again. Enveloping him. Sloppy, little pussy pulsing over the tip like a frenetic heartbeat. 

You turn your chin and bite into your own shoulder to stifle the mewl spiraling between your tonsils, and he groans. The sting is better the second-go, but the pressure of having your rim stretched taut anew doesn’t lose its edge. The ache settles in your underbelly. Flourishes in the molten geyser of your arousal. 

“Oh, shit,” Harry hums, pasting his palm flat to your tummy, right over your navel. Like this, you can feel his fingertips under your heartbeat. Across it. Thrumming. His eyes glued to where you swallow up his cock.

He feeds his cock into you slow, but it feels incongruous. The pastiche of what you’re feeling is already enough to cloud your head into delirium— you want teeth. Tongues, bones, claws. 

“Harder,” you grit, catching his eye when he stalls, hand braced across your waist. You resolve paints your words firm, “I can take it.” 

For a moment, Harry stares down at you. The whiplash of pause morphing to taunt, like a seamless rebound, has your rim fluttering over his girth. “My, my. Aren’t we eager.”

“Just—“

Your cosm ripples around you when he drives his hips forward, and lugs you back, hips colliding with your skin in a smack. A horrible, wet sound when he crams his way in, wedging your fuss back into the depth of your stomach. It flings you off your rationale. 

He shivers. “God, you’re slutty. Slutty pussy on a slutty witch.”

The pace he sets is brutal. Merciless. It caters to your complaint, and squashes it out under his thumb. Under the kiss of his tip to your womb. Deliriously, you think he’s going to spill his hot, thick load inside of you, and then what? Then, what?

It feels like he’s wringing you out between his hands, until all that’s left is a pool of want. 

You hate the way he’s chiseled in a place for himself. A tern across your branches, nested in twine and spare filaments of organs that belong to you. A little sinew peeled off of your liver. A sliver off your lung. Maybe that’s why—

You suck in a tight breath and let it rattle the nest he’s built, when he hits something unfathomably deep inside of you. Plugged on his cock, there’s no way for you to smother your moans out. He batters in to the hilt, cupping you by the waist, and rocking you back onto him, over, and over, and over. 

“I want this sweet pussy to cum around my cock,” he pants over you. A curl has flopped across his eye, and your ire is eclipsed by your yearning. The ball inside of you unspooling as if he’s peeling the layers of muscle on your heart back like an onion to temporarily pluck out the undiluted loathing. “Do you hear me?”

It’s a mindless motion— your fingers creeping to land over where you connect, where he’s splitting your gummy walls to what feels like their ceiling. But he bats your hands away, and rams into you until your mons is kissing the wiry bed of hair that’s smattered over his shaft.

“It’s gonna cum around my cock,” he grunts, “or it’s not gonna cum at all.”

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[samsno1]

Just finished it and i loved it so much! could i request a part 2 to Dream Of Me..?

Dream Come True

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

IT'S HERE!!!!! okay, so many of you asked for a p.2 and it's here, finally. Thank you to everyone who left comments under Dream Of Me and now you have the second part. By the way, I think this shows my slight (huge) obsession with Sam's muscles and my lack of knowledge in blowjobs

Read "Dream Of Me" here

Summary: Sam's avoiding you, he's weird ever since he woke up and you had to question him about it sometime.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected piv (which is fake and i do not encourage), oral (m. and f. recieving), nipple sucking, fingering (sort of), marking, angsty??? maybe, kissing, cursing, use of y/n, dean is done with these two, english is not my first language, NOT PROOF READ, ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE

WC: 11.6K (shhh, don't talk about it)

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

As soon as Sam arrived in the library and saw you standing there in those jeans that did wonders for your legs he immediately felt the room grow hotter. He felt like a high school boy who had just hit puberty with the way he was feeling today or as if it was the first time he dreamed with a woman in his bed – or other places for that matter. He did have feelings for you for some time, but everytime he thought about you, he thought about the sweetness of your smile or the way your laugh sounded when you were slightly drunk. Not about how loud he could make you scream his name.

Sam wasn’t innocent, and neither were you. He knew that you weren’t – he had heard, when the motel walls were too thin, the bed hitting against it and some curses of pleasure out of your mouth. And you most definitely knew he wasn’t, telling you and Dean the history he had with Ruby in excruciating detail even made you feel tingly inside.

Sam tried, badly, to be nonchalant about it around you but it was so difficult. Your plump lips moving as you explained the case, sometimes your tongue darting out to wet it, were driving him insane. He paid much more attention to the way you spoke to him with your hand on his shoulder during the drive to the case, your breath lightly hitting his face and reminding him of the hot kiss you shared in his head, your hand practically burning on his skin through his flannel. And when you finally found a motel to crash in for the time you stayed there, you started loading the gun barrels inside the boys room while Sam attempted to research and Dean was reading lore books on the small table the room had. The way you worked your fingers with your gun was so erotic without you even wanting it to be. Sam was on the verge of breaking as he stared at you, who was oblivious to his looks.

But one person that wasn’t oblivious was Dean Winchester. When he looked up from his book to Sam, ready to ask him a question, he almost immediately closed his mouth when he noticed Sam was doing anything but research. He looked at the way his brother was sitting, with an elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand, torso slightly turned in your direction, eyes trained on your hands. Dean then looked at you and was shocked that you hadn’t even acknowledged Sam’s stare. He smirked to himself as he shook his head in disbelief.

Of course Dean knew about Sam’s feelings. He got him to admit to his crush on you one night where the brothers were in a bar alone and you were in a hunt by yourself. Sam had just hung up his phone after talking to you, his slightly slurred words made you chuckle in the other end of the line and, when Sam put his phone down on the table, he wrapped one hand in his beer and sighed dreamily, staring mindlessly at his thumb that brushed the bottle left to right.

“Her laugh is so beautiful, it matches her” He murmured and Dean almost choked on his own beer, eyes widening at his brother, eyebrows furrowed. As if Sam had realized he actually said it out loud and not just thought, he looked over at Dean, face to face with his brother’s amused look. Sam just sighed disappointedly, knowing that there was no way he was escaping this, not even giving the ‘I’m just drunk!’ excuse. So, he just accepted it “Don’t tell her…”

As if all dots connected, Dean leaned back on his chair, a grin on his face as he thought about the interactions you and Sam had with each other and how it was actually quite obvious. “You like her?” Dean asked the obvious and Sam just nodded. After that, as the amazing older brother he is, Dean promised he wouldn’t utter a word to you about this and he was keeping his promise up to this day, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease the youngest about it…

“Hey Sam, have you found anything?” Dean spoke up and that seemed to wake Sam up from his trance. He cleared his throat and desperately tried to make it seem like he was concentrated fully on his assigned task.

“Um, y-yeah, all the victims died of blood loss and.. and there are bite marks…” Sam said, making you look up at him too, throwing your hair back with a movement of your head. Your hands had stopped working on the guns and you got up from the bed you were sitting, leaving the weapon behind. You walked until you were behind Sam and, using his body for support, putting your left hand over his right shoulder, you leaned in to look at the screen, confirming the information yourself.

Sam stiffened up the moment you got closer to him. With the way you were leaning in – your hand on him again – made him take a deep breath to stay put. He had his eyes glued on the laptop screen because he feared that if he glanced at you in any way he wouldn’t be able to control his most primal needs – A.K.A. avoid his sinful thoughts to take over and a boner to rise. He could feel your warmth behind him and, as you nodded and walked away, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions in his head, he finally felt like he could breathe.

“It’s clearly vampires. Thank God we didn’t have to turn libraries upside down to figure this one out” You said with a slight smile to Dean, your arms crossed in front of you. He closed his book with a thud, thankful for not having to do much more. You turned back to Sam who, at this point, had also closed his laptop and seemed lost in thought.

To get your suit in your bag – that you left over the other bed –, you had to go past Sam and, as you did, you brushed a hand over his arm and got closer to his face, snapping him out of his thoughts. You lowered your voice a little, for Dean not to hear what you were about to say, a worried frown in your face.

“Hey, are you doing okay? You seem off” You ask, slightly tilting your head, your eyes searching into his for any kind of discomfort, be it emotional or physical.

Alarms went off inside Sam’s head and, as soon as he could gather his thoughts together, he suddenly stood up, making you pull away from him and widen your eyes, startled. You furrowed your eyebrows at him and he swallowed deeply, trying to moist his dry throat.

“I’m fine” He mumbles before going to the bathroom, brushing past you in a hurry, his arm bumping against your shoulder. You stare at the shut door once he locks himself inside, mouth agape and an offended look on your face. You turn to face Dean again, questioning him with a look. Dean shrugs his shoulders and gets up from his chair.

At this point you felt kind of…hurt. You had done nothing to Sam, not that you were aware of, and your face dropped. Dean felt the need to guarantee you that it was probably nothing but even he was confused. Sam tended to long to be beside you, to touch you, or have any excuse for you to touch him. He swallowed his jealousy when you had asked Dean once to take his shirt off to care for his wounds. That day, as you stitched the gash on his brother's abdomen, Sam stared daggers at Dean, who felt the need to reassure him that you were all Sam’s, that Dean saw you as a little sister and nothing else. 

This kind of avoidance towards you was weird to the point even you felt affected by it. You weren’t one to take things to the heart – you’re a hunter for fucks sake – but when it came to the boys, especially Sam, you felt worse than ever. They were often harsh, either with each other or with other people. Of course they had to be tough and mean when it came to it due to their line of work but, behind closed doors, they were the sweetest people you’ve ever met, always caring for you and one another and often sacrificing their own comfort – and sometimes their lives – so other people can sleep without worrying about what’s lurking in the night.

Still, it hurt when you became a victim of their temper and Sam being the one shutting you out this time was not only unexplainable but also like a punch to the gut. Let's say the tall, muscular and smart guy Sam Winchester was had you falling for him quickly – and, soon, harder – than you expected. He always tried to be as sweet as he could be and as understandable. He had a natural instinct to comfort the victims you guys often talked to, always the one to do the talking. You had noticed the way he approached the subject with care, especially if the victim was related to the interviewed in any way, and had taken that as a mental note. Hey, he’s good with words. 

But, Sam could also be firm and assertive when it came to it. Once, while you and him were interrogating a guy who wasn’t cooperating at all with you, even when you both were disguised as FBI, Sam snapped. His big hand came with full force against the table, his palm facing down and a loud bang echoing through the small room. It startled you to the point where you jumped slightly, eyes wide as you looked at your ‘partner’. Sam was fuming. His nostrils were flared and his eyebrows were low, casting a shadow over his eyes. He slowly leaned in closer to the guy's face, a wicked grin emerging on his face.

“Look…” He started, voice low, raspy. He gently pulled his suit aside, secretly showing the man his shiny, silver gun safely resting against his hip. You watched as the dude swallowed harshly and his eyes stared at the weapon. “If you won’t cooperate with us…” Sam straightened up, holding both his hands behind his back as he started to walk until he stood beside the guy. He leaned towards his ear, the guy completely frozen. “We are going to rip the truth out of you” He whispered.

You had struggled to keep your composure. The way Sam showed his power over the man – who ended up telling both of you his side of the story after the threat – was distracting. It was safe to say you had discovered something about yourself that day. You had sat the whole ride back to the motel with your legs crossed to numb the throbbing between your thighs as you imagined Sam talking to you that way, in different settings. A cold shower was barely enough to calm you down.

The mix of all these things and other little stuff about the younger brother is what made him special to you. And, now, he was avoiding you.

You sighed and walked back to the bed, sitting beside the guns you’ve left scattered over it, facing Dean’s direction. You leaned on your knees with your elbows, holding your head with your hands, squishing your cheeks and making your pout more prominent than intended. Dean looked at you with pity.

“Did I do something? Say something?” You ask Dean, looking up at him. Dean shakes his head and sighs, getting up from the chair and walking to the mini bar. You knew exactly what he was reaching for and you stretched a hand out to grab the beer bottle once he handed it to you. You opened it easily with your hand and took three big gulps of it. Dean opened his as he sat down beside you this time, on the bed, and threw the lid over the bedside table, the material clinking against the wood.

“Nah, you didn’t do anything, he’s just in a mood” He said but it didn’t seem to help, your face still sad and your head far away, filled with the wrong thoughts. He sighed and gave you a side hug, your head laying against his shoulder. Dean rubbed his hand up and down your upper arm mindlessly to comfort you. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, you did nothing wrong, he’s just…being Sam, I’m sure this has nothing to do with you, okay? I’ll make sure to kick his ass later” He smiled.

You smiled slightly at the last part, shaking your head at the older Winchester, the typical brotherly teasing something you grew fond of.

Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, Sam was trying to keep it together. He had never felt this way before and it was driving him crazy trying to stay away from you because, at the same time he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if anything he did or said showed his attraction – physical and emotional – towards you, he was dreading this. He longed for your closeness, for your touch, not necessarily in a sexual way, much like the one of concern you had just given him. But right now everything became sexual to him, just your hand over his arms was enough to drive goosebumps over his spine.

He washed his face with the cold water from the sink, brushing his wet hand through his hair. He breathed deeply and dried his face, ready to leave the bathroom and go back to acting as if he didn’t want to kick Dean out of the room and have you right here, right now.

Once he opened the door, he regretted it almost immediately. When he saw Dean so close he clenched his hand against the door handle, swallowing his jealousy. You weren’t his, he reminded himself, he didn’t have the right to be jealous of someone that wasn’t his. But, oh, he was. It was uncontrollable, but undeniable.

He watched Dean’s hand rub up and down your arm, your head laid over his shoulder so comfortably. He bit the inside of his cheek as he approached the both of you to place his laptop back into its case. You had noticed his presence, lifting off of Dean and looking at his side profile. He won’t even look at me. You glanced at Dean, who had also realized his brother’s behavior, and gave him a disappointed look.

You sighed through your nose and grabbed your gun to put in the waistband of your jeans. You also took your bag that you always had with you on hunts, separate from the one with your personal items, and threw it over your shoulder. Dean just stared as you got ready to leave, not stopping you. He needed some alone time with Sam to ask him what the fuck was going on.

“I’m going to the car, we can leave once you’re both ready” You said. Dean acknowledged it with an ‘Okay’ and Sam just hummed. You opened the door and left, angrily walking towards Baby.

As soon as the door closed behind you Dean got up from the bed and aggressively spun Sam around, grabbing at his shoulder.

“Hey–!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean interrupted, and an angry scowl on his face. He whisper-yelled, still worried that you might hear them. Sam gave him a confused look and Dean rolled his eyes at the stupidity of his brother. “Why are you acting like this with her?”

“Acting like what?” Sam bit back, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Stop pretending like you don’t know Sammy! Why are you ignoring Y/N all of a sudden? Weren’t you the one all” Dean raised his hands, doing quotation marks with both his index and middle fingers “‘head over heels’ for her, hm?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. He crossed his arms in front of him, slightly looking down at his brother due to the height difference. “It’s nothing” He mumbled, looking away. Images of you roamed around his head at Dean’s question and it reminded him why he was doing this in the first place. He was avoiding you for your own good, you and your friendship with him.

“It’s not nothing, damn it, the girl thinks she did something. Did she? Because you sure make it look like you are angry with her” Dean kept poking at the subject, getting on Sam’s nerves. His face softened once his brother told him you felt bad. “What happened?” Dean asked again, this time a little more softly after he noticed Sam’s face drop at his words.

Sam sighed and looked around the room, nervous. He didn’t know if he should actually tell Dean about this – he’d definitely make fun of him endlessly. But still, he didn’t know if making you sad was worth it. He ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was under pressure and mumbled “I had a dream”

“What?” Dean asked, not understanding whatever language his brother just spoke.

“A dream”

“Dream? What do you mean?”

“I had a dream…with Y/N”

“What do you mean a dream with–” Realization suddenly hits Dean “...Oh” and he relaxes his eyebrows, like he just made sense of everything that happened that day. Then he smirks. Smirks and starts to laugh his ass off as Sam just stands there, cheeks flushed, waiting for his brother to calm down. He knew it.

Sam started to smile slightly as his brother kept trying to talk over his laughter, his embarrassment almost gone. Once Dean finally took a few breaths, a hand on his chest as he dried his fake tears and his laughter died down with a sigh. He looked at Sam who stood there absolutely flushed.

“Man, that’s why you were taking longer in the shower than usual” Dean said with a fake disgust in his face. “Remember me to wash that bathroom twice before using”

“Shut up” Sam mumbled and looked away, suddenly deep in thought. Dean stopped joking and crossed his arms, giving Sam a silent questioning look. Sam glanced at his brother. “What?”

“This kind of still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you avoiding her?” Dean asked and Sam looked at him like he had three heads. “Shouldn’t this make you, and I can’t believe I’m saying this but, excited to be around her”

“Dean, come on, I don’t want her to think I’m a pervert and, besides, she doesn’t even like me that way” And when Sam said that, Dean’s eyeballs almost popped out of his head, his eyes widening at his brother. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, asking the Lord above – better yet, Chuck – to give him the strength to deal with Sam’s stupidity.

“Do you not see it?” He asks. Sam makes a face.

“See what?”

“Oh my God, are you blind Sammy? Or just severely oblivious?” Dean inquiries. “She’s so obviously into you it hurts to watch”

“Dean, please–”

“Don’t ‘please’ me! It’s so clear! She’s always near you when she has the chance, she always insists on helping you when you get hurt on hunts, she looks at you like you’re the last man on Earth, she always worries so much about you…”

“She does the same with you and…” Sam bit the inside of his cheek “...you guys seemed pretty cozy when I came out of the bathroom”

Dean almost hit Sam right then and there, or took one of the guns and shot him through his leg – as a warning. How could he even…?

“Are you fucking serious? That girl is like a sister to me. And why would I even flirt with her when I know you’re into the chick? I’m bad but not that bad, I ain’t stealing your girl” Dean reasures Sam.

His girl. Dean said. But you weren’t his. Sam sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, a million thoughts running through his head. He walked close to the bed and sat down, his and his brother’s guns slightly bouncing over the mattress with the added weight. He held his head in his hands, his hair falling beside his face, his elbows propped over his knees.

“What am I supposed to do?” Sam asks, helpless. Dean shakes his head.

“Talk to her, it’s as simple as that” Dean responded as if it truly was that easy. Sam thought about it. You weren’t gonna hate him for liking you and, maybe, Dean was right and you liked him too. It was a 50/50 chance between rejection and love. He weighed his options and decided in his mind.

Sam suddenly got up, startling Dean. He grabbed his gun and bag, walking around with a determined gaze. Dean accompanied his movements with his eyes, wanting to question the youngest about what conclusion he had gotten to but he was soon with a hand on the door handle and he looked back at his older brother, smiling.

“Let’s go, we have things to kill”

It was safe to say that seeing you in a suit didn’t help Sam’s mind as it roamed back to those thoughts. As said before, you looked good in absolutely anything, but boy could you absolutely tear a man apart with the way you looked. You styled your hair in a more professional way using Baby’s rear view mirror and it looked amazing, your strands glowing in the faint daylight the day had left.

You were both standing close enough so that Sam was able to smell your perfume and the scent of your hair products. It became harder to concentrate on whoever you were interviewing, his eyes wandering to stare at the back of your head, wanting to see inside your brain for any message that said ‘Hey Sam, I’m into you too!’

Dean had gone elsewhere to deal with other things regarding the case so that left you and Sam. Alone. You felt, for the first time in years that you knew Sam, awkward to be around him. On the ride to the witness’ house, you barely talked, something that rarely happened between the two of you. You thought about asking what was wrong but that didn’t work the first time so you hadn’t done it again.

Right now, you sat on the passenger seat of the Impala, staring at Sam's hands gripping the steering wheel. He had hardly looked at you throughout the whole day — or so you thought.

Sam was in an intense battle inside his head and the way you kept looking at him wasn't helping. When he left the room after talking to Dean, he thought he felt brave enough to tell you everything he wanted to but, once he saw you sitting in the backseat in all your beauty, he was reminded of why he hadn't done it before.

He looked at you in secret everytime you were distracted. The way your hips moved when you walked, the way you crossed your legs in the seat every now and then. Oh what he wouldn't give to squeeze your thighs between his fingers right now. You had your arms crossed in front of your chest and — may Sam be forgiven — but the way it made your breasts look when you did that.

He gripped his fingers against the steering wheel even tighter, grounding himself from his thoughts, his knuckles turning white. He sped up the car, unconsciously trying to get back to the motel quicker.

You looked at his side profile then, a quizzical look on your face. He still didn’t look at you.

“Sam” You called. He didn't acknowledge it entirely, his head to focused on not getting a boner at the thought of fucking you in the backseat. You inch closer to him, a hand on his shoulder, “Sam!”

“What!” He answers, dryly. You brush it off, already used to his attitude for the day.

“You don't need to go that fast, we aren't in a hurry, God damn” You huff and pull your hand away from him, sinking back down in your seat angrily.

“Okay, sorry” He mumbles. You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. A message from Dean. You take your phone and read the message. “Found a bar, don’t wait for me to get back ;)”. You chuckle and send an answer back knowing you’d probably only see him next morning. You told him to be safe – in all ways – and not drink too much. Sam looked at you from the corner of his eye. “Who’s that?”

“Madonna” You reply, sarcastically. He doesn’t say anything so you look at his face, which has an annoyed expression over it. “It’s Dean, he found a bar, told us not to wait for him”

Sam hums in acknowledgement and silence settles again, letting your mind wander over the possibilities of why Sam was acting with you this way. You were usually pretty playful, talked a lot with each other, either in the car or before you both parted ways to sleep, each in your own room. This silence, this avoidance was driving you nuts trying to figure out what happened. You felt like crying, honestly, overwhelmed with this feeling inside you. These feelings, plural. Your feelings for Sam mixed with this sickness that downed on you when you would notice he could barely say a word to you.

Lost in your head, you almost didn’t notice when Sam parked Baby in the motel's parking lot, only realizing it when the comforting hum of the engine went away. You both got out of the car, getting your bags in the trunk. You weren’t in the same room as the boys but you felt the need to talk to Sam so, when you came up behind him to his door and got inside his room, stepping in and quickly closing the door behind you, he was confused.

“Aren’t you going to–”

“What’s going on?” You asked, throat tight and heart aching, but you refused to cry. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and you stepped closer to him, standing barely two feet away from the Winchester.

“You’ve been acting cold towards me all day! All damn day. And I have no idea why.” You pressed your index against his chest accusingly, pushing him back slightly, not because you were necessarily stronger, but because you caught him off guard, your outburst was unexpected.

“I didn’t–”

“I tried, okay? I tried to figure out what I did but I…I don’t know. I tried to talk to you earlier today and you brushed me off, you seem incapable of looking at me properly, you’re cold, you’re quiet and I have no idea why so, please tell me. What’s going on?”

Your eyes were glassy and your heart was racing. Sam was speechless, he didn’t know you were feeling this way. Dean had told him, of course, but he had no idea you were actually that affected by his distancing. And to think that he only stood away because he didn’t want to make you feel bad or creeped out about his nervousness, it had the exact opposite effect. He felt his heart sink as he saw you holding back tears and his first instinct was to wrap his arms around you.

You hugged him back, thankful for some reassurance that he at least didn’t hate you, your arms wrapped around his waist and your face pressed against his chest. Sam caressed your head, your hair feeling soft under his fingers.

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N, don’t say that” He told you.

You pulled away from his chest to look at him. “Then tell me what’s wrong”

Sam sighs and closes his eyes momentarily. He had imagined this moment thousands of times, where he told you about how he felt. He couldn’t believe it would be after he ignored you because you were too hot to handle. He looked at you again, drowning in your beautiful eye color, one that he could stare for hours at its beauty. He then looked up, asking for the strength to tell you all he wanted, his throat visible to you as he swallowed his nerves.

“Actually, yeah, you kind of did something” He says, moving his hands until he was holding your upper arms, a smirk on his lips as he eyes you down. You opened your mouth, shocked, but, before you could say anything, he continued. “You drive me crazy, Y/N”

You stood still, scared to move as he talked. You were confused, lost. Hadn’t he just said you had nothing to do with this? Meanwhile, Sam just looked at you for a few seconds, silent. He took you in completely, your body still hidden under the FBI suit but he felt like he already had it memorized. He wanted to touch you, to feel you and he felt like, if he held back any longer, he could lose you. Lose you to someone who wasn’t scared of loving you. “Sam, I don’t–”

“Just– Look at you. You are one of the most amazing women I know, you’re strong, you’re smart, you– God, there’s no words that can describe just how incredible you are. You care for people more than you do for yourself and, even if that makes me angry sometimes, it just shows how big of a heart you have” He takes a breath. “You can be dying but you’d still put a bandaid on someone's scraped knee just because they asked you to, because you care.”

Sam slowly moves his hands to hold you by your neck, his rough palms hot against your skin. You had no words, you just hoped that your eyes could talk for you as you stared into his hazel ones. You had so much to say but words refused to form in your mouth. You never thought Sam would be the one to confess, hell, you never thought he even liked you that way. Hearing him say those things was like getting hit by a train of happiness. You raised your hands to wrap around his wrists, gently holding them as you prayed for him to continue.

“You’re the girl I picture to be forever in my life, if not as a lover, please let it be as a friend. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, but, at the same time, I can’t keep these feelings to myself much longer. If you don’t want me that way, it’s fine, but I need you here with me, one way or another” Sam finishes and starts searching your face for any kind of reaction. He just put his heart in your hands and it was up to you to shatter it or not. He felt his nerves on fire. He rubbed his thumb against your jawline to keep himself grounded and hold onto the comforting thought that you hadn’t pulled away from his touch.

You suddenly smiled, wide and proud. Sam seemed to relax when he saw it, a breath he didn’t know he was holding coming out of his mouth. You felt a rush of happiness go through you as you realized he wasn’t avoiding you because he was mad at you, he was avoiding you because he wanted you so bad he felt like he could make you mad. And that was so Sam. It was exactly like him to tone down his own feelings because of other people and how they might feel, even if it eats him on the inside. What felt even better is that he managed to muster up the courage to come here and tell you about everything in the most Sam way possible, in a way that made shivers run through you.

“Sam Winchester, if you don’t kiss me right now I might just–” He didn’t even let you finish, his plump lips crashing against yours in earnest. He waited months for this and there was no way he was delaying this further. Your words are swallowed down by his mouth along with a surprised gasp you let out. One of his hands went further until it held you behind your neck, his thumb still caressing your jaw as relieved breaths came out of his nose, he was so nervous he would get dumped and his heart crushed that kissing you felt better than anything he ever imagined. The dream might’ve been good but actually kissing you felt so, so much better.

Your lips were sweet and your skin felt soft, a big contrast against his rough hands from handling weapons and burning bones. Those dreams of his came to mind yet again, the thought of exploring your whole body with his mouth made him groan, opening his mouth and teasing your lips with his tongue so you’d open them. You gladly did, letting one of your hands wrap around the base of his neck, pulling him in. 

He lowered one of his hands to your waist through the inside of your black suit, pulling your body flush against his, squeezing your skin through the layers of clothing, eager to feel every inch of you. You groaned at his touch, a surge of heat polling into your belly. His hands took the opportunity to explore what he could – like dream Sam did – trailing his fingers up your back and you shivered, the light touch just making your need for him bigger.

His tongue explored your mouth, the kiss growing more heated within the moment. He starts to gently take the suit off your body, sliding it against your arms without breaking the kiss. Sam thinks for the first time in the last few seconds. He thinks about all the times he imagined being able to do this and, now that he had the chance and his feelings were reciprocated, he wanted to make it as good as possible for the both of you. He pulls away, wanting to make sure that you are on board with this.

His breathing is heavy and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you, pupils dilated with desire – desire for you. Not once in your life have you thought that Sam would look at you that way – and God how much you dreamed of it. He was always much more secretive with his antics than Dean was, often keeping to himself instead of bragging about it, but you knew. You knew he was a passionate lover and the way he behaves just gives away how much of a gentleman he must be in bed. 

“Is this okay? Are you okay with this?” He asked you, voice filled with lust and deeper than his usual. You could’ve melted right then and there as he looked between your eyes, searching for any discomfort. Instead of telling him, you decided to show Sam how bad you wanted him. You slowly walked back, dropping the suit he already had taken halfway off from your body to the ground. You didn’t take your eyes off of him and he stared intensely at you right back, attentive to what you were going to do.

Your hands slowly trailed up your body, roaming through your curves and you see Sam swallow, his fists clenching and unclenching beside him, his throat so deliciously biteable. Once your fingers arrived at the top button of your white shirt, you started to unbutton one by one, slowly. You took your time, eyes trained on his with a smirk on your lips. You were playing bold but the way he was looking at you made your knees weak. His eyes were analyzing every movement of your hands and he stood unbelievably still, like a hunter watching its prey, careful to not scare it away.

Once the last button was undone, you dropped the white clothing to the ground. You now stood in your bra, the cold of the room hitting your skin and making goosebumps rise over it. You got closer to the man again and he accompanied you with his hazel orbs, now a tone darker due to his dilated pupils and the poor lighting in the room. You took one of his hands and placed it against your bare skin, the hot touch making you sigh before grabbing him by the neck with the other hand, bringing his face closer but, instead of kissing him, you placed your mouth closer to his ear.

“I want you, Sam” You whisper in his ear and leave a kiss right below it. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, keeping as much control as he could, biting his lower lip. He groans and a ton of thoughts go through his head – you, naked below him, your attitude gone as he fucks it out of you, pleasurable moans of his name coming out of your mouth. I want you, you said. He strongly grips your hips with both hands, making you yelp, and pushes you towards the bed, manhandling you successfully. Once your back is against the mattress, Sam immediately attacks your neck, kisses and bites making you sigh his name and arch your back into him.

“You have no idea what you do to me” He mumbled against your skin. And, really, you had no clue. He had spent the whole day thinking about this exact moment. The whole day, more like the last 4 months. The months where he had the urge to smash whatever man’s head that flirted with you against a wall and kiss you right then and there, in front of everyone to show who you truly belonged to. “For ages I’ve been thinking about you like this, you are everything that I think about and it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane”

He bites you particularly harder and you moan, your hand flying to his head and tugging at his hair. “Sam!” Your plea came out pathetically needy and he pulled away from your neck to look you in the face, his strong arms caging you beneath him and making you focus solely on the grin he had displayed on his lips. He kisses your lips again, passionate and needy, a groan rippling deep in his throat.

With his lips still glued to yours, he tugged his own suit away from his body, fumbling with the clothing and throwing it away so quick you barely noticed it, loosening his tie and bringing his hands right back to your body, because now that he could touch you, there was nothing in the world that could take him away. He landed his hands on your ribs and trailed then behind your back, his fingers teasing against your bra.

He broke the kiss and with unsteady breaths close to your mouth he asked: “Can I?” as he teases his finger under the bra strap. You hummed in approval and grabbed both his cheeks, giving him a firm peck on the lips to emphasize it.

“Yes, you can, please” You say. It came out much needier than intended but Sam didn’t seem to mind. You thought he didn’t, but he did. He smiled at you, feeling pride in the thought of making you needy and, hearing your voice – that’s so assertive and strong on a daily basis – breathy and desperate, made him wonder why he hadn’t done this earlier. You looked stunning under him and no dream could ever picture what he was seeing. Your eyes hooded, mouth agape and thumbs caressing the stubble on his face, eager to touch him as much as he was to touch you. He was looking right through the gates of heaven.

He proceeded to unclasp your bra, gently taking it off of you. He does all that without taking his eyes off your face and only allows himself to look down once the undergarment was long forgotten, laying on the ground. You didn’t know what to do or where to look, turning your face from him and feeling your cheeks heat up. You, of course, had been with other men in bed and you never truly cared if they didn’t think of you above a one night stand – you didn’t think much of them either. But Sam made you feel nervous. He was being so caring up until now, contrasting against most men you’ve been with, the thought of not reciprocating it properly made you shy below him.

He was appreciating the perfection he had under him, his fingers trailing your sides affectionately when he noticed your face turning away. You were biting your lip and avoiding his piercing gaze and he raised a hand to hold your chin, slowly turning your face to look at him again. He kissed you to ease your nerves but, this time, it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t simply a carnal need, he kissed you with love, with passion and you could feel it tearing through your soul, his feelings pouring out and painting your insides.

He pulled back again and his eyes traveled through your face as a smile painted his lips. “You’re beautiful” He says and you smile back at him widely, your heart racing in your chest. You didn’t know what to say to that so you grabbed at his loose tie that hung just below your jaw and pulled him in harshly, smashing your lips against his. The unexpected move made Sam lose his balance and you took the opportunity to change your positions, laying him back on the bed as you straddled his waist with your legs.

Sam gripped your hips as you made out, gently rolling you over him and you felt it. You felt him under you through the clothing you both still had on and a whine escaped your lips into the kisses. Sam leaves your lips to start attacking your neck, leaving hickeys and bites behind. He was holding onto the last ounce of control he had, you were just so much. Every little noise you made went straight to his cock and he couldn’t handle it anymore, you still had too much clothing on and he needed to do something about it.

Sam turned both of you over again and left your lips to stand straight in front of you. The sight of you half naked, splayed out over the bed, hair messed up, shiny spots from his saliva against your neck and collarbone was very close to the sight he’d dreamed about. But a hundred times better. Because this was real, he was touching you, kissing you, marking you and making you his.

He felt suffocated in his own clothes and he took the opportunity to take off his tie and his white shirt along the way, slowly revealing his defined body. You swallowed to try and not drool over the sight, his strong physique covered by a thin layer of sweat, the tattoo he had on his chest contrasting against his tanned torso and few scars he had here and there. Some were white, others were pink-ish – more recent – but he looked fabulous no matter what. You’d seen him shirtless before, while patching him up or when the bunker was too hot for either of the brothers but none of those situations were as intimate as this. He was half naked only for your eyes to see – as much as you were for his.

He noticed your stare and he smirked as he approached your lower belly with his mouth. You held your breath and closed your eyes as his mouth made contact with your skin. From then on, he kissed his way up, biting here and there in places only you would know if the mark was still there the next day. He kissed your own scars that were scattered through your torso softly, treating them with care because, as much as him, you had gotten hurt on hunts. Besides, he found it amazing how strong you were. He admired you and your scars were there to prove to everyone who saw you that you were a fighter.

His hands came up alongside his kisses, caressing your sides so lightly it was almost ticklish. When his mouth got to the valley of your breasts he looked up at you, a question in his eyes. He had his hands placed right below your boobs, not moving, not touching them, just there as he waited for your approval. You were burning up from the inside out, the sight was so much. His eyes pleading for you to let him touch you, his hair making a curtain around his face.

“Touch me, Sam” You whisper, knowing that even if it wasn’t loud, he could hear you. He grinned and went right into action, his hands filling themselves up with your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. You let out a low moan, the little stimulation you got from his fingers finally doing something to soothe the fire inside you.

He joined with his mouth, sucking and licking deliciously at it. You flew a hand to tangle into his hair, unconsciously tugging at his roots when he lightly bit at your nipple. Sam would groan against your skin every time you would tighten your fingers in his hair and he felt like he could cum just by hearing your faint pleas and breathless whines. He continued kissing up after that, his hands still squeezing your breasts lightly.

His mouth marked your collarbones with hickeys, painting your skin with reds and purples. He nipped at your neck, sucking at your pulse point and you bucked your hips against his, the pleasure too much and too little all at once. He was taking his time with you, appreciating every second that he could get and yet you felt his desperation when he tightened his hands around your boobs once your crotch hit his.

You tugged his hair harder to bring his face close to yours and Sam complied. You smashed your lips against his, the kiss all tongue and teeth, completely desperate. Your breathing was heavy and Sam brought his hands to your back, lifting it off the bed and making your chest glue against his, your sensitive nipples grinding against his skin. You clawed your nails on his shoulders to keep yourself together, markings that looked like half moons left behind in your desperation to remind you all this was real.

You dragged your hands down his arms, nails lightly scraping over his skin, and gently guided his forearms down, his hands going along. He proceeded to rest his palms over your covered ass, groaning in your mouth when he realized what you were insinuating. You wanted more, needed more.

You pulled back from his mouth just enough so you could talk. You opened your eyes to see one of the sexiest views you’ve ever encountered. Sam’s mouth was open, unsteady breaths hitting your mouth as his eyes stared down at you. You brought a hand to his cheek and just appreciated the sight for a moment before your mouth gave him an open mouthed kiss below his jaw. You felt goosebumps down your spine when he moaned lightly at your action, his hands squeezing at your ass. You placed your mouth close to his ear and Sam closed his eyes, waiting to see what you were going to do now.

“Fuck me, Sammy, don’t hold back” You whispered and Sam’s knees almost gave out, the nickname he usually hated hearing sounding so sweet coming out of your mouth. He pulled back to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking between your mouth and your eyes. You nodded.

“Yes” Was all you had to say before he grabbed at the hem of your pants, dragging them down your legs. He distanced himself from you to kneel between your legs, face to face with your covered pussy, the only thing you were wearing now being your panties.

After discarding your pants, Sam roamed his hands slowly up your legs, from your ankles to where your hips connected to your thigh. You were clenching and unclenching your fists beside your body, holding your torso up with your elbows and looking down to see him hypnotized by your soaked underwear, his eyes glued. You were embarrassedly wet and, as Sam dragged a finger over it, grinding against your neglected clit, you bucked against his hand, whining.

“Sam…” You pleaded and he finally looked up at you. You were taking deep breaths, your chest going up and down, decorated by the marks left by his mouth and teeth. You looked stunning. “Do something” 

And he does. He kisses right above your covered sex and you moan deep in your throat again, fingers gripping the sheets. Sam was feeling pride in himself. He was the one who got you like this, not any other man. He was the one you were begging for and he was the one who was going to give you everything you wanted. He wanted to worship you atom by atom of your being because that was what you deserved, he was going to treat you like the goddess you were.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and, like he was opening a present he long wished for, – which was kind of true – he takes it off so calmly you were close to combusting. When Sam finally sees you completely nude for the first time, only for his eyes to see and outside of his dirty dreams, he hums in delight. Fucking hums. He’s done for the moment he sees your cunt, wet and glistening just for him. Oh how badly he wanted this, for so, so long he wanted you like this and now he was finally fulfilling his deepest desire.

He squeezes your thighs in his hands before reaching for your sex, his middle finger collecting your wetness in his finger. You buck against his hand again, this time even more sensitive and neglected than before. And you cry out, not with tears, but a desperate sob for attention. Sam notices that and looks up at your face to see your eyebrows furrowed and a sheen of sweat in your forehead, you looked so fucked out without even him actively doing anything. He softened and caressed your sides with his hands, soothing your nerves – or trying to, at least.

“Shh, pretty girl, I’m gonna take care of you” He says “I’m just appreciating how perfect you are, taking my time with the girl of my dreams”

Your face softened and you felt your cheeks warm up even more than they already were. You bit back a smile. You felt unique at that moment, as if you were the only woman in the world as he said the sweetest words inches away from your pussy, it was almost laughable to think that one of the most romantic things you’ve ever heard was said between your legs.

Sam smiled at you and started kissing your inner thighs, so close yet so far from where you truly wanted him. He loved kissing your skin, he loved to feel you and you were keeping that in mind. He expressed his love physically rather than using words and you were just realizing it wasn’t just in bed he was like that. He always wanted to cook for you, he knew how you liked your drink, he would take care of you when you would get too drunk or when you were hurt or not feeling great. He hugged you, kissed the top of your head, pranked you. He gave you his jacket when you were cold or for you to use as a pillow when you were sleeping on a longer ride. He protected you, even if he knew you didn’t need it, either literally, putting his body in front of yours when someone or something threatened you, or not letting you go alone on hunts – including this one, where you had offered to go alone to questioning and, even if he was technically avoiding you, he wasn’t going to let you go solo.

Sam had loved you for so long and you were oblivious. Were. Because now he was digging his fingers in your thighs, mouth closing over your clit and you were arching your back. His stubble scratched your inner thighs, adding more to the building pleasure in your belly. He sucked at your cunt so skillfully that you wondered how long you would last like this and how much he had practiced to have a mouth that was able to do that. He moved his hands to your ass again, bringing your hips up and burying his face deeper into your heat.

He felt like he could die happy between your thighs because he wasn’t leaving there anytime soon. You were delicious and he was drinking in your noises like a drug, getting high off his lust and your taste. He hummed and groaned against your pussy, his cock pulsing so bad it practically hurt, almost cumming in his pants just from this.

“Sam– Oh God, please, please, plea–se” You cried out, the pleasure almost too much, the foreplay making you sensitive to a level you felt everything ten times harder. Sam knew exactly what he did to you, it was like he edged you consciously, knowing you’d beg for him louder once he finally got to touching you. And damn him because it worked, you were a moaning mess and he would be lying if it didn’t stroke his ego to hear you plead for him, submitting to his ministrations so quickly, it was adorable.

He was eating you out with everything he had, digging his nails on your skin. You were soon close to the edge, tightening your thighs around his head so he would not pull away. Everything around you consisted only of him, his scent, his noises, his body, him. It was overwhelming and, with a loud cry of his name, you came, hard.

The room went out of focus, your eyes rolling back in pure pleasure. You had trapped Sam’s head between your legs and he hadn’t stopped. He kept licking you clean, completely lost in your pussy. He could stay like that forever, until his jaw went sore, just so that he could hear you over and over again while he’s nose deep into your cunt. He only comes back to the real world – the one that doesn’t consist in an infinite loop of your voice moaning his name – when you pull at his hair and your thighs open space to let him get up.

“T’much Sammy'' You say, breathless. You bring him up from your cunt, and look at his face, glistening with your juices, a giddy smile on his lips – like a kid who just got a truckload of candy dumped at their house – and cheeks red from the heat. You smile back at him and giggle. Who would’ve thought that he would make you cry for him to touch you and, minutes later, you’d be laughing at his mischievous grin from making you cum.

You brought him back up with a hand behind his neck and he gladly crawled on the bed until he was face to face with you again, his hands supporting his upper body so he wouldn’t crush you. You looked at him for a few seconds, a look that you intended to fill with love and care and he reciprocated, his head angling 45° with a gentle smile that made him look absolutely adorable. You put a strand of his hair behind his ear, which proved useless as it fell right back to curtain his face, his hair being too straight and too soft to hold up like that. You chuckled lightly and pulled him in for a kiss.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the saltiness making you hum in his mouth. The kiss grew heated fast and you started to roam your hands over his chest, his muscles tensing under your light palms. You explored his body as much as he did to yours, caressing over every visible muscle he had – which, honestly, was a lot. When you got to his abs, Sam broke the kiss to let out a shaky breath. He gently grabbed your wrists and kneeled on the bed, his body now in its full glory above you, the lightning in the room making his body even more defined.

With your wrists in his hand, Sam dragged your palms, that were flattened against his skin, lower. And lower. Until you were touching the hem of his pants that he still, incredibly, had on. You stared at the bulge he had right below, swallowing thickly and letting out a deep breath, your cunt clenching in response. He looked big. You should have an idea, Sam was 6’4, of course it would be proportional to his height but God if it didn’t make you think about swallowing him down, the tip hitting the back of your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as he fucked your face.

“Want me to take them off?” You hear his voice, snapping you out of your fantasies. You looked up at him and down again. You hooked your fingers in the waistband and, on cue, Sam let go of your wrists. You slowly brought his pants and underwear down at the same time, too eager to keep up the foreplay and too desperate to tease.

When you finally see it, an audible groan reverbates in the back of your throat. Sam moans lowly, the pain from the constriction caused by his boxers and pants finally going away and making him even more aware of the neglect his dick got up til now. He watches your reaction carefully and, one of the first things you do is throw your legs back, standing on your knees, one hand supporting your body as the other stops midway to his dick. Sam felt his whole body burn with need. God what did he do to deserve you.

You were on all fours in front of him, head inches from his cock, eyes now looking up at him with a question. You felt like if you opened your mouth you would drool, you needed him inside it and you were silently asking him if it was okay.

Sam angled his torso to bring his face closer to yours, grabbing your chin with his hand and giving you a firm peck on the lips. “Do it, beautiful” He whispered against your mouth and straightened up again and you confirmed with a nod before wrapping your hand around his dick.

Sam breathed out when you started to pump him, your hand doing light movements. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of your name, a silent plea and you gladly listened. You wrapped your mouth around the tip, just the tip for now, and circled your tongue around it, the salty taste of precum invading your mouth. Sam’s hand instantly flew to your head, encouraging you to take him deeper, but not forcing you. Still, you started to relax your throat and took as much of him as you could, hollowing your cheeks.

“Y/N, baby, Jesus” Sam sighed and your insides tingled. You took what you couldn’t take in your mouth with your hand, squeezing and pumping using your spit as lube. You could feel Sam holding back, his hips stuttering every now and again. You braced yourself, deciding to give him more, and placed your hands on his thighs, tapping it twice with your index finger. Sam looked down at you, swallowing his breathy groans. He damn near came just by looking at you, those beautiful eyes staring up at him, your mouth wrapped around his dick. He concentrated, remembering the silent message you sent him.

“I don’t want to hurt you” He said and you did your best to shake your head no in your conditions. You won’t. And emphasized it by squeezing his thighs and pushing your head forward. Sam sighed and nodded. “Okay, but if it’s too much, tap three times, get it doll?” He asked. The nickname made you shiver, his voice sounding so sweet calling you that. Brushing it off you tapped his thigh three times, just for him to know you understood what he said. 

Sam started to rock his hips back and forth slowly, using your mouth for his pleasure. All you did was relax your throat as much as you could and breathe through your nose. He started to quicken up within time, losing his control as his release came closer. He was grunting and moaning and all his noises went straight to your pussy. He let out sighs of your name, his head thrown back and his neck glistening with sweat, his Adam's apple bobbing everytime he swallowed.

Too enamored by his noises, you lost focus and gagged on his cock, tears stinging your eyes. Sam loudly moaned your name at that, hips faltering as he tugged at your head to take your mouth off his cock. His breathing was heavy and his mouth was dry and he stood face to face with you to kiss your lips again, moaning inside your mouth. You were a bit disappointed that he hadn’t cum but you swallowed his whines gladly with your mouth, clasping your hands on each one of his cheeks. He pulled away and caressed a thumb over your lips.

“What have you got in that mouth of yours sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk and you bit your lip.

“Says the one who was eating me out like a starved man” You replied, wrapping one arm around his neck as your index finger traced his lips before giving them a peck, smiling once you pulled away. He smiled at you before wrapping his arms around your waist, like he would in a hug, and throwing you back. You shrieked as you landed on your back and Sam laid practically on top of you, attacking your face with tiny kisses, making you laugh under him.

Once he stopped, he just stared down at you. “Hi” He said.

“Hi” You whispered back after your laugh died down.

“Did I already tell you you’re beautiful?”

“Once…twice”

“You’re beautiful” He said, again “I’ll never stop telling you that”

“I can deal with it” You teased and he chuckled, going right back to kissing you.

Sam was one of a kind. You had taken some time to truly understand why you had fallen in love with him in the first place but there was not just one thing that made Sam Winchester special, everything he did just added up. From the huge things to the tiny details, he just was so easy to fall in love with and these moments were definitely one of those in the list, in which, no matter the situation, good or bad, Sam could make you smile.

As he kissed you now, his hands roamed your body like he had done before until two of his fingers teased at your entrance and you rolled your hips against his hand. Blowing him had made you aroused again and you could feel your wetness coating his fingers. Sam smirked in your mouth before slowly inserting his middle and ring finger inside your wetness. Your mouth left his to let out a moan, your foreheads glued.

Sam opened his eyes to watch your expression as he hooked his fingers inside you. You whined, your eyebrows furrowed and your nails left angry red trails over his shoulders. He lowered his head to kiss your neck open mouthed. He started to scissor his fingers inside you, preparing for what you knew was coming and you gladly relaxed around his fingers, grinding your cunt on his digits.

“Sweetheart, I need to be inside you, I need you” He whispered in your ear and you whined at the thought, nodding in approval.

“Yes, Sammy, please” You breathlessly said. Sam took his fingers out from your hole and you held back a complaint from the emptiness once you saw him pumping his hardened cock with the hand he used his fingers to prepare you, lubricating himself with your juices. He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you again.

He wanted to watch you as he sunk himself into your heat and that’s what he did. He slowly started to enter you and your mouth opened in a silent moan at the stretch. He was filling you up deliciously well, right in the division between pain and pleasure and, the deeper he went, the harder your nails dug on his shoulders.

Sam was also struggling. Your tightness enveloped him in a way no one had ever done before and it felt so fucking good to bury himself inside you. He started to distract you from the possible painful stretch with kisses over your collarbones and neck, focusing on relaxing your body so he could make love to you properly.

At last, you felt his pelvis connect with yours and you were so amazingly full. His dick hit places inside you you could never reach alone and it felt incredible. 

Once you were used to his size and craving more, you rolled your hips against his, making Sam suck in a breath. He was trying to keep his composure but he was holding on his last ounces of control and when you moved he damn nearly lost it.

“You can move” You whisper and Sam wastes no time fulfilling your request, immediately starting to pump into you. He was euphoric, his mind was blurry as only images of you naked under him and begging for him to fuck you went through his head. You would tighten your walls around him from time to time and that would cause his breathing to falter and his hips to stutter.

You weren’t much different, every buck of his hips would hit you in a spot that made you see starts. You were already overstimulated from his previous ministrations so you knew you weren’t going to last long and, from the way Sam was twitching inside you, you knew he wasn’t going to either.

“Sam, I’m s’close” You moaned close to his ear.

“Me too, baby” He said as he brought his hand to press over your lower belly. You nearly screamed as he did that, you could feel him even better, his shape feeling like it was being permanently molded inside you. Along with it, he reached a thumb to rub over your clit – his big hands be damned – and at that you finally went over the edge with a desperate cry of his name. 

Your vision blurred as the only thing you knew was real was the feeling of emptiness since Sam was chasing his own release after leaving your warmth. He pumped his cock a few times and proceeded to cum over your belly, painting your skin with his liquids. You were spread out on the bed for a while longer after that, Sam panting above you, his softening dick still in his hand and you completely fucked out with a lazy smile on your face.

Once that high passed, Sam took you to the bathroom – bridal style – and cleaned you up in the bathtub with warm water and gave you the privacy you needed after he sorted himself out too, leaving the bathroom on his boxers.

You took your time, using the toilet so as to not get any infections and leaving the bathroom completely naked, too lazy to actually put clothes on. You just wanted to sleep beside Sam and wake up happy in his arms.

He saw you coming out of the room and smiled, eyeing you up and down.

“No clothes?” He asked

“Unless you’re uncomfortable, I think we’re past that” You joked and he shook his head.

“I don’t mind, come here” He said, opening an arm to invite you to lay over his chest and you gladly did, jumping on the bed and wrapping your arms around his torso, laying your head on his firm chest. Sam covered both of you with the white sheets, hiding your exposed body under them. You laid silent for a moment, just drowning in each other's company as you listened to his steady heartbeat.

Sam caressed your upper arm, his mind running with a thousand thoughts in which a thousand and one consisted of you. 

“Hey, want to know something?” Sam asked. He was taking advantage of the situation because now he was confident enough to do so, and he wasn’t delaying this any further if his mind would allow him. You lazily looked up at him, your chin now resting on him. Your eyes stared at him with so much appreciation that he felt even more encouraged to tell you what he wanted to.

“I think I love you” He blurted out. You felt your face warm up and smiled widely, but didn’t lose the opportunity to tease him for his choice of words.

“You think?” You raised an eyebrow. Sam panicked inside.

“No, I mean that–”

“I think I love you too” You interrupted before he could say anything else, your giddy smile never faltering. Sam relaxed and pulled you in for a kiss to seal this promise.

Who would’ve thought that Sam would have his dream come true at the end of everything. Yet, here you were, half-asleep in his arms after you admitted your love for each other.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading. XoXo

[toovaeloe]

post-nut munchies

Satoru doesn’t get post sex clarity shame or guilt. He gets hungry.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

mdni•18+

content: small minific, gn penetration, established relationship, dumbification if you squint, mating press but again: only if you’re looking through a foggy window, mostly aftercare and a gojo being goofy (being a FATASS) ((he’s my fave fatty))

wc: 826

Clarity. That might as well be the universally defined antonym of Satoru Gojo.

Because if there’s one thing Gojo doesn’t own and his fat paycheck can’t buy, it’s shame.

“fuuuckkk,” 

He’d groan a guttural draw as he pistoned into your tight heat, before alternating into slow, powerful grinding of his hips that had your brain vacating the premises to make space for his dumb fucking dick. He knew it, too; could see it in the way your your eyes struggled to stay in focus and the way your back bowed off the sheets you were gripping with white-knuckle intensity— he’s fucked all the thoughts out of your pretty little head. And the bastard couldn’t be cheesing any harder about it.

“My pretty baby,” He’s muse, somehow finding it in himself to giggle breathily as one of his large palms slips away from where he was squeezing the underside of your thigh. He smooths up towards your abdomen, featherlight fingers grazing up your chest and over a pert nipple before traveling back down to splay over your hip, all with deliberate gentleness. “so beautiful like this.”

“feel me right there, yeah? That deep?” The husk of his voice rumbles just above you, the pad of his thumb skimming over the skin below your belly button, eyes crinkling at the way you whimper out soft frantic mhm!’s when he adds pressure. His grin is from ear to ear, the sigh he lets out dreamy and adoring. “yeaahhh.”

He’s only smug for so long, however, with the way your eager hole was sucking him in, milking him like you wanted to siphon his soul out his body via cock. Satoru leans down as a string of curses tumbles from his lips with a groan, sweat-slick chest meeting yours as his hands scramble to find your legs once more. Blunt nails dig into your flesh as he forces them up next to either side of your head, effectively folding you in half like a goddamn lawn chair. The change in angle has you keening as he rammed into that gummy spot inside you, with no less accuracy the other 6 times he’s made you cum tonight.

“shit, shit, yer so… mmh’fuck ‘can’t think— needa cum s’bad,” He quite literally whines as you barrel over that peak, his mouth latching to yours to share your muffled moans as he follows suit. His hips stutter against yours as he spills inside of you, before he goes still entirely, the both of you riding the waves of the ebbing high until he collapses atop you- and with how exhausted you both are, it’s undoubtedly the last one tonight.

Or at least one of you is bone-tired. After a few minutes of Satoru floating in the afterglow, he’s littering affectionate wet kisses all across your face, offering you praise of what a good job you did for him as he eases your legs back down and kneads your hips- having the audacity to tease you with the idea of juuuust one more round. HELL no. He gets the memo when you weakly kick at him, but it doesn’t stop him from chuckling at your incredulous expression as he slides his softening shaft out of you.

His snowy bangs still stick to his brow as he rises from the bed with a grunt, making a show of stretching, cracking stiff joints, and flexing muscles before returning to your side with a warm washcloth. He’s still all smiles and chipper beaming as he tenderly cleans in between your legs, biting his lip to stifle himself from blabbing out about how much pride he felt seeing you like this- it’d probably fluster you into chiding him if you saw the goofy ass expression he was making. Not that you were really paying any mind; your eyelids fluttering closed every other minute and about ready to conk out.

“Y’know what sounds good right now though?” Satoru chirped out of the blue, yanking you back from the cusp of slumber.

“Some fro-yo. Maybe strawberry- with chocolate chips, gummy bears, marshmallows, cookie dough, and a fuckton of rainbow sprinkles. Cherry on top, of course,” He’d ramble off his abominable go-to order as his hand absentmindedly wandered to trace soothing patterns against one of your knees. You’re just dumbfounded at how he could possibly be fantasizing about frozen yogurt right now; limp-dicked and in his birthday suit after he just fucked you into next Tuesday. “God, my mouth’s watering just thinkin’ about it.”

“I know a 24 hour fro-yo spot. It’s only, like…a 20-ish minute drive?” He’d muse, sapphire eyes redirecting from the ceiling and back to you. When he caught your flabbergasted expression he’d coyly duck his head and bat his frosty lashes at you, as if that was about to convince you. You wondered if you could even walk, or if maybe you’d need at least 5-8 business days to recuperate.

“Doesn’t that sound good, hm? You up for it, angel?”

a/n: craving a ben&jerry’s cherry garcia🤤 also i hate him a lot today. like so much 😒 but i gotta finish writing this Ino thing for a diff thing so im forcing myself to resist writing Gojo. Instead i will say, “i hate him”;

I hate him.

have a wonderful day and do something nice for yourself! 🫶🏽

[alchemistc]

There are tiny firefighters checking the integrity of the roof in a grid pattern directly on his brain.

The first thought comes as he's filtering towards wakefulness: Ow.

He needs maybe a gallon of water, and for the sun to stop being so fucking bright, and for -

His arm is pinned by something. That's - there's something wrong with that. Why is that wrong?

Tommy snaps his eyes open and immediately regrets it. The sun is too bright, and the bed he's in is too small, and the ceiling spins as he tries to get his bearings.

No clothes.

Sore muscles that don't have anything to do with the roiling of his gut or the nausea as he tries to focus or the way his brain feels too big for his skull.

He's a little afraid to turn his head, so he makes do with shifting his eyes to attempt to figure out why there's weight on his arm.

His stomach lurches dramatically, and Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. Not fucking again.

It's like he can't fucking help himself.

Tommy had known he'd regret agreeing to go to this damn bachelor party. Gregson is a good guy, but his best man is absolutely insane and apparently loaded - they'd all wandered in to the hotel to check in only to find they each had a room, a new suit somehow tailored to their measurements (that was a feat, considering), an itinerary laid out on each bathroom sink that included the places Tommy only ever went to when a buddy took him, and (if he's not mistaken, he'd immediately dropped his off at Gregson's brothers room) a little box neatly filled with party drugs.

It'd been fine, up until they'd split off. Gregson's best man had mentioned something about escorts, and about a third of the married men had turned to Tommy in a panic, like Tommy's sexuality was the only thing that could be a good enough excuse not to cheat on their wives, and Tommy hadn't had the heart to tell them there were definitely male sex workers and they were definitely the kind of thing Gregson's best man would be able to find in a heartbeat. He wasn't interested, anyway. If Tommy found someone to sleep with on this trip, he'd find them him-fucking-self.

So he'd made an excuse. Told Gregson they'd meet him in the bungalow the next afternoon. Six panicked men had followed after him like lost ducklings, across the lobby of the hotel and out into the cooling night.

He'd found a quiet looking bar off the strip, set them all up at the pool tables, and downed three shots in a row the moment he saw a flash of wide shoulders and curls.

It was a problem.

Tommy wasn't a fucking saint. He'd ripped his own heart out of his own damn chest, and sometimes the only medicine to try to heal that still bleeding wound was an ill-advised hookup with someone he'd never see again. Problem was, every guy that'd caught his eye in the last six months had a few of the same features. Tousled curls, blue eyes, a barrel chest, cheeks he could sink his teeth into. He did it because it felt like an apt punishment.

The guy on his arm groans. Shifts his weight. Rolls a shoulder and spins into the cradle of Tommy's armpit.

Tommy risks a peek and regrets it immediately.

"Morning," he says, and Tommy has spent months successfully avoiding this, how did he cross state lines and stumble right into it?

What the fuck happened last night?

Evan's thigh hitches up over Tommy's, criminally, perpetually cold foot tucking into the space between his legs. He slides a hand up the shifting muscles of Tommy's abdomen and there's a flash of memory there - Evan Buckley's eyes going dark and cloudy when he realized that Tommy had trimmed back up post breakup: no more gentle give to his tummy because there was no Evan cooking decadent meals three times a week that Tommy burned off in bed instead of the gym.

The hand glides up, fingers reaching to tweak a nipple, and Tommy turns his gaze to that instead. He can't look, can't see, can't -

"Is that -?"

Tommy ignores every muscle in his body protesting as he snatches at Evan's hand. His left hand.

His left hand that has a gold band settled on the third finger.

Tommy risks running his thumb over his own finger and - yeah. There's skin warm metal on his hand, too.

He waits for the panic. The terror. The absolute agony of knowing what kind of shit drunk Tommy dropped him in.

Only.

The gap in his memory is slowly filling in.

The two of them, buzzed but steady, eyeing each other across the little patio table tucked out back between the bar and a little nickel slot casino. The glittering lights above turning Evan golden as he acknowledged that the both of them had been idiots. Tommy, feeling that draw, the pull that no amount of curly hair or blue eyes on a stranger could replicate. The hand that reached for his when he'd admitted how fucking much he'd missed him.

Evan's expression when Tommy had dropped the stoicism and called him Evan again.

The longer Tommy stares at Evan's hand, the smaller the goofy smile on Evan's face becomes.

He moves like he's going to roll away, so Tommy brackets him in, tucks his face into the disaster of Evan's hair and breathes. "It's...slowly coming back, but uh... was this your idea or my idea?"

"What, running into each other in Vegas at a dive bar off the strip?"

Oh. He's - well, he sounds a little mad.

Doesn't stop him from sinking his teeth into the side of Tommy's pec, though.

"Or actually having the conversation you've been refusing to have with me for months?"

Another bite. Sharper, pointed this time.

"You made us go to three different chapels because you didn't like the look of the Elvis in the first two."

So. Tommy's idea, then.

He can see the edges of it. The of all the bars in all the world mentality that had given him the courage to say his piece, to listen to Evan's. The rightness of Evan's hand in his own, the absurd joy that sizzled under his skin when Evan raised their intertwined hand to press his lips to Tommy's knuckles.

Evan forces himself up, out-muscles Tommy and ignores the tractor beam of light that darts across his face so he can stare Tommy down. "Do you want me to go?"

Tommy wonders where the marriage certificate is. He thinks blindly of the joke about eating it - good luck returning me without the receipt.

"Did we actually sit down and write vows on our phones before we left the bar?"

Hours. Two more rounds of shots and maybe three beers each while they dissected every fucking misstep they'd taken those first six months. He hadn't been sober when he'd thrown it out there, but he hadn't been wasted either.

Tommy doesn't believe in fate. In curses, or the guiding hand of the universe, or soul mates.

But the coincidences seemed stacked, last night. Like this was all inevitable. Like eventually they'd be led back to each other no matter how many times Tommy found a poor substitute, no matter how many times Evan dipped his toes in and found he just wasn't as interested in someone new as he'd hoped he might be.

"I liked the bit about boils and all," Evan murmurs, and Tommy - well, he has to kiss him about that, doesn't he?

This doesn't solve anything. They've spent six months apart. They've got a share of issues that'd make a grown man weep. They - God, did they even say the words last night? He doesn't think they said the words.

Evan breaks the kiss to look him square in the eye, like he's read Tommy's mind. "I love you. I never stopped. Is that - is that enough, for now?"

Tommy feels light as a feather. Bright, and happy, and terrified out of his fucking mind. "Evan. I love you. We should get a divorce."

He narrows his eyes. Twists the ring with the pad of his thumb. "I think we could probably just do an annulment." Tommy laughs. Evan's vows are coming back in bits and pieces as his gaze in this moment mirrors the one he'd had on his face with a mildly better Elvis impersonator standing between them. Platitudes about not finding something but making it. Fancy words that only meant something because Evan wanted them to. Because Tommy did.

"I'm keeping the ring," Tommy says, and Evan's grin splits down the middle as he leans back in, somehow not bothered in the least by Tommy's morning breath.

[aaagustd]

make it cute | jjk (m)

title: make it cute pairing: jeon jungkook x (f)reader genre/rating: smut, pwp, 18+ summary: if jungkook loans someone money, he expects to be paid with just that. but tonight, he just might make an exception. wc: 1.8k warnings: infidelity, swearing, mentions ransoms and everything that comes with that (threats, m*rder, etc), pictures??, consensual g*n play (more like oral but yeah), sloppy bl*wjob/deep throating, consent bc it's sexy, pet names, degradation, m*sturbation, facial c*m shot, dirty talk, slight power play dynamics, Dom/sub themes, obedience kink, hair pulling, face f*cking, that should be all release date: september 21st, 2024; 10:18pm est

note: reposting this baby. it’s from the old aaagustd account. i hope y’all enjoy the new version. divider credit.

check out my taglists here.

"That’s it. Keep going until I tell you to stop."

Jungkook can feel the material of his pants stretching to accommodate the growing boner pressing against the fabric. One wrong jerk of his hips, and he fears the measly button and zipper securing his trousers will go flying across his lavishly decored master bedroom.

He’s done some sick shit in his life, but this. This was your idea.

If only he could hear how you begged for it.

"Damn, baby, You are dead-ass enjoying this, aren't you?"

You don’t have to respond, but you do. "M-Mhm," you exhale in a needy moan as your throat engulfs the barrel of his gun.

There’s no way you can deny what is visibly present in both your eyes. 

The way your middle finger teases your soaked cunt. Your erected nipples leave two perfectly sculpted peaks that he can see through your sheer top.

He can't lie; he’s impressed and turned on by the sight. 

However, the reason you’re on your knees on his bedroom floor isn’t because he had a taste for a bored housewife. Your darling husband owes him a lot of money, and he will pay it if he wants his little trophy home by dinner.

Otherwise, Jungkook will gladly keep you—if you can behave.

With an ass like yours, Jungkook wouldn't let you out of his sight. Your place would be right on his lap, no matter the time or the place.

You have to keep a tight leash on this kind of pussy. The man’s an idiot. 

A woman as beautiful as you begging to be fucked? He’s not a nice guy, but how could he not show pity?

Jungkook can only stand there and imagine how your plump lips would look wrapped around his dick. The thought of it has him twitching inside his boxers.

As if you are reading his mind, your sticky digits abandon your wet panties and you place them on his designer-covered crotch. A sharp hiss pushes through his clenched teeth, biting back a slew of insults that could imply that he’s angry. Not in the slightest, he was just shaken by the sensitivity.

Staring into the desperation lingering deep in your irises, Jungkook knows what you’re asking for. Your mouth is filled to the brim, but you’re still begging for more.

Jungkook isn’t a gentleman, but he’s mindful of his strength when he grips your hair, snatching you away from his gun. He should have been cautious of your teeth, but you won’t need them anyway for what you’re about to do.

“Hey!” He watches your swollen lips part as you suddenly take in a large breath of air. Your lungs struggle to accommodate the pressure, leaving you coughing and choking for several seconds. The sound nearly drowns out his voice. “Look at me, dollface!”

Jungkook stares into your watery blown-out eyes, holding an intense gaze to make sure you understand him clearly. He realizes then that he has a problem on his hands.

Sexy and obedient. Fuck.

"Doll, you can get up if you want. I just want my money-"

"Fuck my throat."

Jungkook almost shudders when he hears your sweet voice. The lust hidden within that raspy tone is intoxicating.

"What?" he asks.

He heard you, though. Jungkook never misses a beat, but he’s just—stunned.

Clearing your throat, you repeat your request without an ounce of shame.

"My throat. Shove it down my throat, please."

Please.

You didn't have to add that last part. He was already preparing to take his dick out.

"Well, shit," he curses. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

Jungkook quickly places his gun on the dresser behind him and unbuckles his belt. He steals glances at you waiting patiently on your knees—like a good little slut. 

It’s goddamn shame how you have him fidgeting like a virgin.

Once his pants are loosened enough to slip a hand in and pull down his boxers, his cock springs out and introduces itself. Your reaction leaves a prideful smirk spreading across his face. Whatever you were expecting he knows that has been exceeded.

"Bit off more than you can chew, huh?"

You appear to be offended by his assumption. At least that’s what your expression reads. "Not at all," you reply, straightening your posture to align with his midsection. "May I?"

With Jungkook’s permission, you make contact with his length by grasping it gently in your smooth hand. Your fingers wrap around his girth as your eyes size him up.

Stroking him lazily in your warm palm, you admire his protruding veins that run along his length. You pause at the reddened tip, tapping the pool of precum that has developed at his slit. Your tongue licks your lips as if you’re sitting before a feast.

He understands it’s probably been forever since you’ve been in the presence of someone his size, but he’s impatient. You’ll have to do this another time.

"Don't fuck around, alright? I still got a bullet with your name on it, dollface."

You heed his warning and move closer, determining the best method of swallowing him whole.

"Sorry," you say in a whisper.

Those manners of yours will take you places; if you play your cards right.

"It’s no sweat, beautiful. Just keep going."

It's probably the first time he's said something as sincere; but honestly, he's just trying to get gobbled up before he cums all over his freshly waxed floors. His men are probably wondering what the hell is taking so long. For all they know, you’re using his bathroom to clean yourself up from the bumpy ride you had in the trunk of their car.

Without warning, Jungkook’s dick is sucked into your heavenly mouth. The warm and wetness invite him in without hesitation, comforting his throbbing length like a compress. He struggles to maintain his composure.

He isn't sure if he should allow you to take over because he cannot move. He couldn’t thrust if he wanted to. He’s mentally and physically stuck. The way you're slurping him up…he might not even be able to walk after this.

"Easy," Jungkook warns, which causes you to raise an eyebrow.

Finally, a bit of cockiness breaks through the surface.

Jungkook has no choice but to pull himself together and find his bearings because he’d die before boosting your ego.

"Fine," he grunts. "I can play rough too."

His hands snake their way to the back of your head, granting him full control. Your dark eyes never tear away from his face as he harshly uses his grip to push your head into his swift thrusts. You start to gag and choke, dropping saliva all over his cock and the floor. Something that would usually piss him off—but tonight, he can’t find an ounce of care.

It's not like he has to clean it up.

"Goddamn. Who's training this throat, hm?" He buries himself in your throat, making your forehead collide with his pelvic area. "Can’t be your hubby?"

When he hears a gurgled moan, he pulls away and allows you to speak. Through labored pants, you huff out your response. It’s one he's sure you've never shared with your husband.

"I'll suck that bastard dry every night before I let him cum inside me."

Jungkook nods. "Smart woman."

However, your business has nothing to do with him. Right now, he needs your undivided attention.

"Come here," he demands.

Jungkook hopes you were able to take in a breath before he lets go of his self-control.

You two had a deal, and he will uphold his part as you are yours. You’ve complied and given him some of the best head he’s ever received. Now, it’s time for the real show.

It’s been a month since he loaned your spouse some money; it’s time to pay up. To remind him of that, he’ll send your husband some face shots of his beautiful wife.

Jungkook will get his payment—one way, or another.

"Fuck!"

His body tenses now that he’s hitting the back of your throat. No matter how deep he goes, you never run out of space. The sweat rolling down his face is ignored because he’s too focused on how good your mouth feels around him.

Your warmth has him hunched over and leaning on his toes, his mouth stuck in an O-shape as he comes dangerously close to release. As he moves in and out of your crevice, he catches a glimpse of your juicy cunt being filled with your fingers, your body squirming and seeking the same relief he's chasing.

Both of your moans fill the room as you reach the peak of your highs. Your eyes roll back as your body becomes stiff. Jungkook knows exactly what's going on with you, and as you're riding out the waves of your orgasm, he waits for the perfect moment to pull out and paint you with his seed.

The time comes when you're no longer able to control your breathing, and you're desperately looking for a source of air. It's not a second too soon because Jungkook cannot bear another deep dive into your wet hole.

He slips out and gives his boner a couple of quick strokes before ropes of his cum paint your pretty face. The sounds you make indicate just how pleased you are with the results of your messy blowjob.

…And messy it is indeed.

It's everywhere, but he kept his promise and didn't get any in your hair.

"Ready?" Jungkook asks, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah."

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his back pocket and finds his camera. He positions it directly in front of your face. Your exhausted eyes and fucked out expression brings him some amusement. A contrast of how he felt before meeting you. 

"Is my hair okay?" you ask him, and this time he actually has to chuckle.

Since you've made his night a little better, he does a quick job smoothing down flyaways and kinks. 

Honestly, he didn't have to because you already look hot. Your hair all messy with his load dumped all over your face. All while adorned in an expensive diamond necklace your husband bought you—probably with his money.

Before he gets angry, he instructs you to look at the camera.

You pose provocatively as he takes a few pictures, giving your best doe-eyed pout.  When he’s done, he finally guides you to the bathroom. He allows you to use his shower or whatever else you’d need to clean up. 

Jungkook then lets you know that you may take as long as you need to freshen up while he sits on the bed to make this official.

He searches his contacts for the correct number. A mischievous grin slowly forms on his face as he taps the latest images in his camera roll, sending his debtor a little message to stir the pot.

03:14 am Sent: img.788, img.789....

03:14 am Sent: at the crib fucking your bitch. bring my bread and i might give her back.

He's lying. You’re staying right here.

Or…you can join your husband, in the cozy six-foot bed his men dug up for him in the woods.

[princessbrunette]

jj never left the house without his gun.

with good reason too— the way rafe behaved, and all that shit in the past with the royal merchant or even his dad made jj an antsy, jittery person. he didn’t like feeling caught out or helpless, and the thing about his pistol was that 99.9% of the time it promised him security.

you were used to it. that bulge in his waistband where it was usually tucked, the blonde muttering for you to ‘watch it’ when you’re getting handsy with him in public and accidentally brush it. you didn’t see what the big deal was, after all it was just a pistol.

you hear his sneakers bounding along the floor to his rickety home, skidding and scuffing around as he searches for the weapon that he won’t find. you giggle mischievously, borderline psychotically before he appears at the doorway — seeming a little concerned and out of breath.

“so— you haven’t seen my piece, right?” he blinks.

“oh your gun?” you tilt your head casually and he nods, pressing his lips together. honestly, he was half expecting you roll your eyes and ask him how he could lose a deadly weapon — but instead you smile, drawing back the bed covers from where you sit up in bed in your cute underwear set, pistol in hand.

“oh you mean this gun?” you hold it very loosely and casually making jj freeze up, holding up a hand.

“holy— alright, okay. i get your point mama m’not going to misplace it again just like… put it down.” he demands in that pretty southern accent that made you leak. you were in a bratty mood today, wanting to push him until he broke so that’s exactly what you’d do.

“hm, but i like it. i feel soooo protected and safe right now. y’never know what creeps are out there, jj.” you tease, dragging the cold tip of the gun down your chest, your nipples hard from adrenaline through your bra.

“y’know you’re like — commitin’ all kinds of crimes right now. shouldn’t take someone else’s firearm it’s like, bad gun… karma.” he steps closer towards the bed, still visibly uneasy despite his tone.

“you should arrest me then.” you shrug, eyes lighting up in excitement as the gun travels further down your body, dragging down the soft skin of your stomach to your waistband. he freezes.

“uh… what you doin’ there kittycat?”

“just messing around.” you sigh dreamily, before widening your legs. the blonde looks conflicted— yes it was dangerous and he needed you to hand it back right that instant, but also… you looked good. the tip of the barrel begins to rub slow circles on your clit over your panties and you sigh, brows furrowing as you look up, glassy eyed at your boyfriend.

“babe…” he warns, blinking at your open legs. you swear his dick jumps, visibly.

“feels so good, jj…” you groan, and the second you let your guard down, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure your boyfriend grabs the barrel, disarming you before flipping you onto your front in one fluid movement. you whine in irritation, beginning to squirm violently but the strength of the blonde boy overpowers you and he holds you down effortlessly. “ugh, jj!”

“yeah not so cocky now huh? how you gonna protect yourself now?” he drawls, shoving a thigh between your legs to widen your stance as he keeps you arched. “d’you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“no.”

“yeah i di’nt think so. but you’re gunna.” you feel the cool tip of the gun again, pressed to your back. “slide them panties off. don’t make me tell you twice.”

[tinyluvs]

Rafe and reader arguing and she flashes him to end the argument and win it

i’ve won many an argument doing this so 🌝 *mdni!*

the door of the cameron house slams and you flinch, your eyes widening as you turn to the sound of the footsteps rapidly approaching. rafe barrels into the kitchen looking, for lack of a better word, mad

“oh boy” you mutter to yourself before slapping a sickly sweet smile on your face, “hi baby, how’re you?”

rafe raises an eyebrow at you. the breakfast bar counter separates the two of you, “don’t baby me right now” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest

you know exactly what you did but just in case he’s mad over something else, you don’t admit to anything. “why?” you ask with a slight pout and a tilt of your head

your boyfriend rubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply, “so i was at the country club,” he starts and you hum, “heard some talk about things you’d said”

he knows. you mentally curse, rapidly trying to come up with something to get you out of trouble but nothing springs into action fast enough for you

“do you have any idea what trouble you’ll start if you start saying that shit?” rafe hisses at you, his hands planting onto the counter as he leans towards you

stupidly, you’d got a little drunk and gone on a rather long, rambling, tangent about how fucked the island system is. the way the pogue’s have no electricity or running water sometimes and the kook’s never have any issues

you frown, “but it’s true! kie was telling me ho-”

“i don’t care what kie said! i’m talking about you and what you said” rafe cuts you off, raising his voice over yours, “it’s the fucking country club, full of kooks” he points out

a sigh tumbles past your lips and your hand swipes through your hair, “so i can talk about it, just not at the country club?” you shoot back with an attitude

rafe stares at you, “just don’t talk about it at all for a while, okay?” he huffs, standing back up straight. even with the counter between you, he has to look down at you, his eyes burning into yours

“okay, god, i’m sorry” you roll your eyes but you realise that was a mistake when he growls, deep in his chest

he turns away from you, pacing up and down in the kitchen, “but you’re not sorry because you do this all the fucking time” he starts to ramble, “you’re my girlfriend, you live here with me an-”

you drown him out. watching him stop in front of the glass doors that lead out onto the patio. he rubs at his jaw as he continues to talk

“it’s not that deep, rafe” you mumble and drum your fingers off of the counter, “i won’t talk about it”

rafe doesn’t even acknowledge you talking, his rant continuing, his words louder than yours, “it makes my family look bad, my girlfriend going around talking about how we live and how it’s unfair to pogues, god!”

sighing deeply, you start to slide your fingers under the hem of your crop top, inching it up until you’re exposing your tits. your nipples perk up and you cross your arms underneath your boobs

still rafe doesn’t notice, “so stupid, this is how the island works, the kooks and the fucking pogues and it only works that way becau-”

“because what?”

he turns, finally. his words dying on his tongue as his eyes immediately draw to your chest. he licks over his bottom lip, watching your hand ghost over the swell of your tit and up to your neck

“because what, rafe?” you repeat yourself, challenging him even though you know you’ve won. his eyes darken and he moves around the breakfast bar, still leaving enough space between you

puffing his cheeks out, he admits defeat, “doesn’t matter” he grumbles. lust outweighs his annoyance for your argument ending tactics

you smirk, “didn’t think so,” you hum smugly. he closes the distance between you, hand sliding up your side until his thumb is brushing against your nipple

he bends and uses his free hand to pull your leg up, forcing you to jump, legs wrapping around his waist, “don’t do it again,” he mumbles against your neck, shifting you higher up his body so he can trail his lips down to your tit

“hmm, it’s quite fun winning the argument though” you snicker and push your tongue between your lips, titling your head back slightly.

his hand slaps against the your asscheek, his teeth grazing harshly against your nipple, causing you to cry out, something between a moan and a shout.

“don’t push it” he warns but you will, because the after argument sex always leaves you bruised and marked and so, so full and you’re too addicted to it

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!