#THIS IS A LONG WAY TO SAY 'no' but dig in if you want to

[covenofagatha]

Two professors and a student (Part 2)

Word count: 1800

Warnings: oral sex, dirty talk, slight consensual somnophilia

When Rio wakes up the next morning, the first thing she notices is Agatha. 

Rio’s girlfriend is clearly having a good dream. Agatha is laying on her side facing Rio, long dark hair strewn around her pillow, a blissed expression on her face, and the slightest bit of undulation from her hips. Rio smirks and pushes herself up on her elbows so she can get a better look. 

And then Agatha moans ever so quietly. 

A rush of heat flows through Rio. She usually doesn’t get to see Agatha like this: so unburdened, so free, so full of pleasure. Agatha has a hard time letting go, even when she lets Rio be in control. But now, Rio chuckles to herself. 

Rio maneuvers herself so she’s practically pressed against Agatha and is content at first to just slide a thigh between Agatha’s legs. She lets out a gasp at the feeling of the wet heat now against her legs. Agatha is really worked up. She grabs her sleeping girlfriend’s hips, merely guiding her against her. 

And then Agatha breathes out a name. 

But it’s not Rio’s. 

It’s the name of their former student, you, who they had both not been able to stop thinking about since the bar last night. 

Rio had always known Agatha had a soft spot for you. A little crush, even. She could see it in the way Agatha would fondly talk about you coming by her office, the way she praised your writing and your answers in class. How she proclaimed that you seemed to be the only student that could go toe-to-toe with her. Rio had teased her mercilessly about it, and she could always tell there was a little truth to her words based on the way Agatha would flush red. 

But it wasn’t until she had you in her class this past semester that she realized she couldn’t blame Agatha in the least. 

You had always come to her class with a sort of eagerness in your eyes, the kind that was hard to come by these days. You drank in every word Rio said during lectures, coming up with the most interesting questions to ask. Of course she found you attractive, but it was your mind that had really drawn Rio in. 

Rio found herself bringing you up more and more in conversations with Agatha. It was almost like both Rio and Agatha knew what they wanted, but had to dance around the subject at first. Plus, you were still Rio’s student. 

Until last night. 

Whether it be some sort of fate, or truly just a coincidence, you had walked into the bar on the final day of the semester. 

Rio had been the one to spot you, strutting into the bar with confidence and a tight black skirt that hugged your curves just right. 

“Agatha,” Rio had said, gesturing for her to look behind her. When she had seen you (and what you were wearing), she turned back to face Rio. 

“She’s not your student anymore,” Agatha pointed out. It was the closest either of them had actually come to saying out loud what they both wanted with you. 

Rio had met Agatha’s eyes with a sort of pleading look in them, and without another word, Agatha got up and joined you at the bar. 

And now, Agatha is grinding down on Rio’s thigh as your name falls out of her mouth quietly. 

It’s not enough for Rio, though. 

Rio untangles her leg from Agatha’s and gently turns the older woman so she’s laying on her back now. Rio throws back the sheets and moves down between her thighs. She spreads them open, hikes up the purple sheet her girlfriend was sleeping in, and almost moans at how she’s soaked through her underwear. 

Agatha is a mess. 

Rio doesn’t even take the time to peel her underwear off, she just slides it to the side and runs her tongue up Agatha’s slit. 

Agatha’s hips buck against Rio’s face and Rio digs her nails into Agatha’s thighs to hold her still. 

She experimentally dips her tongue inside and then glides it up to swirl at her clit. 

Agatha’s moans continue to grow louder as Rio picks up her pace and intensity. Rio has completely lost herself in the taste of Agatha’s pussy so she startles a little when a hand grabs onto her head. 

Rio doesn’t stop but flicks her eyes up to find Agatha’s dark eyes locked on her. 

“Rio,” she pants, fist tightening in her hair. 

Rio smirks against her cunt, gives her one last hard lick, and then climbs up so she can kiss Agatha. It starts out heated and Agatha’s hands come up to clasp Rio’s cheeks to pull her in even deeper if possible. 

“Have a good dream?” Rio asks playfully once they break apart. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Agatha turn this red before. “You were saying some interesting things.” 

Agatha groans and covers her face with her hands, thoroughly embarrassed. Rio laughs and tugs at her wrists.

“Want to tell me what you were dreaming about? Maybe a certain former student of ours?” 

“Don’t be mad,” Agatha says meekly. 

“I’m not, baby. I want you to tell me about it,” Rio promises and moves back down the bed so she’s back between Agatha’s legs. She’s practically dripping on the sheets now. “And if you stop talking, I’ll stop too.” 

Agatha’s mouth falls open in a silent moan as Rio drags her tongue slowly through her folds. Now that she’s awake, she can revel even more in the feel of Rio’s hot mouth. 

But Rio pulls away too soon. “Start talking,” she demands, looking up at Agatha expectantly. 

Agatha swallows hard and weaves her fingers into Rio’s hair preemptively. “We invited her over for dinner,” she begins, words coming out brokenly as Rio goes back to eating her out. “She came wearing this black dress, it looked so delicious on her. You poured her a glass of wine but accidentally spilled it over her so she had to take it off.” 

Rio moans involuntarily at the thought and Agatha jumps at the vibration against her. 

“She kissed you and then me. Then watched us kiss each other.” She’s sounding more breathless, and Rio’s not sure if it’s more because of her devouring her cunt, or the memory of the dream. “We brought her up to the bedroom and laid her down. She touched herself while we kissed some more. It was so hot, baby.” 

Rio can’t help from moaning again, right into Agatha’s pussy. The visual is now ingrained in her brain and it’s affecting her more than she’d like to admit. “Keep going.”

“She was laying against my front and I played with her nipples as you ate her out. I left marks on her neck and you devoured her like you’re doing to me now. The stimulation was so much and she came over your face so quickly,” Agatha keens, hips grinding faster against Rio’s tongue. 

Rio can feel that her girlfriend is close and she slips a hand between her own legs to relieve some of the pressure. She whimpers at the wetness that meets her. Hearing Agatha talk about the three of you like this has really done a number on her. 

“Fuck, Rio,” Agatha breathes. 

“Don’t stop talking,” Rio warns, barely moving her mouth off Agatha’s cunt. 

“You sat on her face and she made you feel so good,” Agatha practically sobs, clenching around Rio’s tongue, nails digging into her head. Rio picks up her pace, jaw starting to ache but she doesn’t dream of stopping. Agatha is so close. “And then I fucked her with the strap, just watching you ride her pretty little mouth. She took it so well. She was so good for us. You soaked her face and she came all over my cock.” 

And that picture with a hard suck to her clit is all Agatha needs to teeter over the edge and cum with a loud moan. Rio’s not sure she’s ever seen the other woman this turned on, or this vocal. And she loves it. 

Rio licks her through the aftershocks while she moves her own fingers against herself and follows suit quickly, groaning into Agatha’s cunt. It’s too much for Agatha, who weakly tugs Rio away from her. 

Rio chuckles as she flops down next to Agatha and leans in to kiss her. “Wow,” she says. 

“Should we text her?” Agatha asks, desperation leaking into her voice despite her trying to remain casual. 

Rio smirks and rolls over to grab her phone. 

***

You’re drenched in sweat when you get back to your dorm after your morning run. The only thing on your mind is taking a shower when your phone buzzes. 

You tap the screen and see a text from an unknown number. Your heart pounds fast as you quickly go wash your hands. 

Hey, y/n, it’s Rio. Agatha and I were wondering if you’d like to get dinner with us this week. 

You had barely heard a word your friends had said last night because you were so focused on the two professors. You still can’t get the way they were staring at you out of your mind. It was like they wanted to devour you. You hadn’t missed their longing glances as they walked out of the bar after a few hours either. 

But they were together, and you were much younger. They probably just wanted to make sure you were being safe. 

But then there was the way Agatha had touched your back at the bar. Her thumb stroking against you, never pulling away until she had to. The pet names she never used before. The innuendos from Rio about you aiming to please them and you being a ‘pretty young thing.’ The admission that they talked about you a lot. 

Did they both want you?

God, you hope so, because you want them both too. 

I’d love to! I’m free all week so let me know when would work best for you. 

Heat starts coursing through your veins as you watch the bubbles pop up immediately. Even just the thought of seeing them is enough for a dull ache to grow between your legs. 

How does Tuesday night sound? We know this great place. And then maybe we can have a nightcap at our place? 

It’s like all the air is punched out of your lungs. A nightcap? At their place? Is she hinting at something for real or just being playful? You force yourself to take three deep breaths to calm down and think of a response that won’t relay just how desperate for them you are. 

It’s a date. Seems like you can walk that fine line too. You are more than a little turned on now.

You throw your phone on your bed and go take a shower, hoping to get clean in more ways than one. 

[ghouljams]

*Taking the nasties down off a tall shelf like they're the finest china*

So... König and Fetch...

(cw: fingering, ignoring you, f!reader, squirting if you squint)

He keeps squeezing your ass every time you get up to grab something, only half paying attention to the movie you wanted to watch, so you do the only logical thing and offer to let him play with it as long as you can watch the shitty rom-com. He'd taken you up on the offer far too quickly, but you'd anticipated that. Which is why you'd so prettily laid yourself over his lap and wiggled your hips for him.

It starts easy. His big hands grope the squishy globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin while you use your arms as a cushion to keep your eyes on the TV. It's sort of nice, like a weirdly focused massage. He tugs your shorts up. Actually, you shouldn't call them shorts, they're his boxers, he pulls his boxers up. Wedges the fabric between your cheeks and hums, tugging it this way and that, just inspecting you as his hands continue their massaging.

It isn't until he tugs them to the side that your trouble really starts. You don't need to read his mind to know what he's after, you can feel the press of one thick finger against your cunt. Your legs are squeezed together, just by virtue of the way you've laid yourself, and it makes you feel all the tighter as he pushes his finger into you. The sinful burn of skin against skin as he sinks the digit into you makes you huff out a breath. You try to keep your focus on your movie as he silently pumps his finger in and out of you, changing the angle every few strokes to try and find your sweet spot.

You do your best to return that silence.

You're not doing well. The chuffed breaths that he draws from you are tinged with need, the start of full-blown whines that you can barely contain. He pulls his hand back to add a second finger, this time hitting his mark. You bite your lip to hold back the quiet noise you make, your gaze turning away from the film as you press your forehead to the couch cushion. König doesn't even bother shushing you. Silent as he is in the field, you can almost hear his focus as he pumps his fingers into you, targeting your soft spot with pinpoint precision.

You're so tight, your legs straight over his lap, your stomach pressed against his thick thigh, and he just keeps fucking his fingers into you. All that delicious friction that punches desperation into your stomach, tightening your senses into a single point of need and heat. Your cunt clenches, your muscles eager to find their favorite release.

You're getting louder. The longer he fucks you the louder you get. Your hips push back into his thrusts, your back arching without you realizing it, raising your hips higher and higher until you feel König's lips press against your ass.

His pace is so steady, stuck on two fingers in a slow, deliberate, in and out. It's not enough. Which means you're too busy chasing your own high to notice when his lips turn to teeth. Sharp canines and flat molars digging hard into your soft flesh. Your eyes flutter, his fingers curl, and you feel the break-blossom of blood over your skin. God, you hope it scars.

He pulls his teeth from your ass only to lap at the blood, tracing the fresh bite with his tongue. You whine for him, every needy desire on the tip of your tongue. He grabs your hip to hold you still against his chest and fucks his fingers into you hard and fast. Your teeth rip into the couch cushions as you scream through the rush of orgasm. It tears through you, bursts from you, your skin heats until you feel like you'll melt. Everything tightens and shatters, and you see stars as your eyes roll back.

You reach behind you to grab his wrist, desperate to stop the movement of his hand. Fuck that's wet.

"This isn't too much for you meine herz," König tells you, the first thing he's said since getting his hands on you. Which is fine, he doesn't have to say anything, all he needs to do is,

"Take your fucking pants off." You hiss, clawing at his belt.

You nearly jump off his lap to avoid being thrown off it with how quickly he stands.

[lugarn]

Deradicalization--that's what you're doing when you convince people away from their radical beliefs--is a very specific type of work. It's work that is measured in decades more than years. It's work that most people are not suited for because it requires that you see the humanity in a person as they, for years, say terrible things about you and people like you.

It is a career-long effort to deradicalize people. See this from someone who is public defender for many of the January 6th defendants in order to understand deradicalization in a real way:

There are always people out there who are good at deradicalization, but none of it begins with telling someone how they should live according to you. None of it begins without acceptance of the current person as they are and deep effort to meet them in that place.

Deradicalization is hard work, but if you're the kind of person cut out for it, you can do some good things. If you're somebody not cut out for it, you can drive people's harmful beliefs in deeper by giving them someone specific to rail against.

Please have respect for deradicalization by not pretending that it's something easily accomplished. It's not, and the attitudes of 'you're bad/wrong' are ones that actively make deradicalization harder.

Yes, this is unpleasant to hear, I know, that the things you've been doing have been causing people to dig in their feet! Right now the best thing you can do to deradicalize people passively is to humanize them and to try to invite them to participate as isolation, disconnection, and fear are huge motivators toward radicalization.

If you want to get involved in intentional deradicalization with groups who know what they're doing, the easiest version is something like Alternatives to Violence Program or something similar where the people you're working with have self-selected to be ready to change as people.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[doctorho]

thinking about viktor with a chronically ill reader. you know? we see the vision, right?

it just works.

the thing with chronic pain, illnesses, disabilities, all of that - is that you can't always see them. sometimes you can, sure, you can see the mobility aids and the not-standing-up-for-too-long and the bruising from blood draws and sometimes you can see the compression garments, the pills and inhalers and the i'm fine, i just need a moment-

but most people just don't pay attention to that. or if they do, they don't put the pieces together fast enough to figure out what's really going on under the surface. viktor does, though; he's been there, and most of the time he's way beyond hiding it. or, well, he's way beyond hiding some of it.

walking with a cane was like carrying a neon sign that said yes there is something different here. yes i can't walk the way you can. no it's not going to get better. that last part wasn't directly evident just from him using a cane, sure, but with the way his cane looked, it should've been pretty clear. He had used one practically forever and it had evolved with him, he'd made it as comfortable to use as it could be, had even made it match his uniform.

so yeah. viktor knew what it was like. he'd been the disabled kid forever, even if some of the others were never going to say it out loud. that was just a thing about him, and he knew how hard it could be to navigate something like that in an academic environment. it was hard to admit you couldn't do something, that you had to sit down, that you needed a moment. that sometimes your body was just falling apart for no particular reason and it was just another tuesday.

sometimes it was easier to sit with the pain than take medication in the middle of a meeting, knowing that someone would make a bigger deal out of it than it had to be, even if it was just raising their eyebrows meaningfully. they'd think about you differently afterwards.

he could see you push through it, and he didn't blame you, really, he did that himself, too, but - he didn't want you to hurt yourself. you hadn't been in the lab as long as he had, so he could understand you being a little cautious with how you acted and what you told people, but he didn't want you to feel like you had to put on a show for him. he was, after all, walking around with the equivalent of a light-up sign of i'm disabled, too, and he liked to think of himself as someone who wouldn't come off as judgemental about stuff like that. other stuff, sure, stupid stuff, but not that.

so when he sees you dealing with the telltale signs of being in pain, he conveniently sends jayce and the others to pick up some parts that would take a while to collect and that they wouldn't actually need until the next day. but better prepared, right? what's the harm.

and then he comes to sit next to you and sighs deeply. leans back. relaxes to the best of his abilities. asks if you're alright, and sounds like he already knows the answer.

you sigh too, shift your position, and answer with it's fine. and viktor recognizes the strain in your voice, in your posture, and he knows there's a key difference between this and i'm fine, but he'll take it. it's not what he'd like, but he'll take it.

he leans over to dig around his belongings, and then offers you a bag of candied almonds.

"if you're going to take pain killers, it's better if you eat something first," he says, and you just stare at him. "i assume you haven't taken anything yet. nothing strong enough, at least," he continues, casually, and you take a deep breath and accept the almonds.

he smiles. continues like this is totally normal. "jayce made me start carrying around some food so i could do that. for myself, i mean. but it doesn't hurt to have some snacks around either way, i suppose."

he knows he's skirting around the real topic of the conversation, but he also knows that sometimes people get uncomfortable around his bluntness, and you hadn't exactly told him you were in pain, so he'd understand it if you were a little weirded out. after all, most people didn't notice this stuff. but you haven't run away from him, and you're eating, and then you're digging around your own bag to take your medication, so he'll count this as a win.

thanks, you exhale, handing back the almonds, and he takes a handful of them himself.

"i'm fine, really," you continue, not really looking at him, "it's just hard sometimes."

he nods. it was - even if he didn't know the specifics, he knew that it was true. especially since you had been hiding it from the others. and with something like that, something the others couldn't see, the invisible step to let them see it would grow bigger and bigger with time, when they expected you to be able to do everything they did without a second thought.

he also knows you didn't mean fine in the dictionary definition sense of the word, but more in the this is normal and you don't need to worry -sense. and that's fine. he was used to functioning on different parameters than most people, so this version of fine was good enough.

my body just isn't always very reliable, you explain with a sigh, and that he knows better than well.

he hmms in answer and nods. he knows.

you exhale a small laugh at that.

and he's glad you're relaxing, wants you to be as comfortable here as possible.

"these people are alright," he says casually, "as far as healthy people go."

viktor smiles a little.

another win for him.

and then he sits with you, talking and not talking and enjoying the quiet comfort if it all. and then he makes up some excuse so you don't have to keep working yet. he was well aware what it was like trying to work through the pain, waiting for the medication to kick in, and he wouldn't exactly recommend it. besides, as a rule, you were more likely to make mistakes if you were thinking through a layer of pain, and that was just plain bad planning. it made much more sense to just take a break and continue when you felt better. in fact, he was in dire need of a caramel latte and a pastry right now, do you want anything?

and after that it just... sort of falls into place. you're more relaxed around him. and the others, too, but he's the only one that really gets it. doesn’t make a whole thing out of it when you need to sit down for a moment or take a break while your pain killers kick in. he's just there.

he knows what it's like, and that feels like an invisble curtain lifted from between you and him, and it's just easy. you don't have to pretend you're doing better than you actually are and he doesn’t hide it when he's in pain, either.

most people don't see it, but there's a mutual understanding there; yeah, sometimes life sucks and sometimes you're in pain and no it's not fair that sometimes your body is falling apart and life just keeps going. you can't do all the things you want to do but you still have to show up for the other life-stuff and if you took a day off every time you felt bad you would never get anything done and it just never stops.

but sometimes there's someone who'll sit through it with you without judgement. offer a warm drink and a snack and some understanding.

[walkinthrudaisies]

Crush

dean winchester x fem!reader

2.6k | angst, fluff

summary: operation, have you and dean actually get along. that is all sam begged and pleaded to happen. though, it worked better than he initially had hoped.

sam believed that if he rolled his eyes anymore, they’d get stuck at the back of his head. he loved you, don’t get it twisted. it’s just that when you and dean were in the same room, things seemed to get a lot more. . . aggravating, to say it lightly.

the winchester brothers had met you around three years ago on a hunt in washington. a pesky demon is what brought you all together. well, it was more or less you and sam. dean was just an added on bonus that wasn’t really a bonus because you wanted to slap him across the face every ten seconds.

you and dean winchester hadn’t gotten along since the jump, and sam could easily vouch for the statement since he’d been in the middle of the lengthy feud for many years. dean was cocky, stubborn, and always had to be right, something you couldn’t stand. as someone who strived on being independent, a man like dean was a thorn in your side.

for years, anytime sam called you to help on a case, or you three were in the same place at the same time, you and dean would always end up in some kind of fight. whether it be his idea was better than yours or dean’s constant need to blare his music in the car it didn’t matter. you would always fight and sam would always dream of cutting his eyes out with a blunt butter knife

this hunt wasn’t any different. a witch had been using the residents of a small town in mississippi as her personal test dummy’s. droppings bodies left, right, and centre. so with a call from sam, you hopped on a bus and met the two brothers at their motel in kentucky, ready to join the hunt.

dean always teased you for not having a constant form of transportation, but you weren’t a douche who rode in a classic muscle car. especially one who was attached to it as a baby is to their bottle, so his digs just went completely deaf to you.

knocking on the winchester’s motel room door, sam greeted you with a gleaming smile on his face. arms extended for a hug, you cuddled into his chest and rested your head by his shoulder, catching a glimpse of dean shovelling a mini pie into his mouth.

when the older brother caught your eye, he just scoffed. hands moving to cross over his chest as you stepped away from sam and did the same.

“we really don’t need her help sammy.” dean practically snarled, mouth tilting up in a devious smirk. “she’s probably already got plans with all her little pals on the bus.”

sam just sighed, already mentally prepared for the kindergarten level digs you two were going to throw at each other. he almost left the room as he watched your shoulders square and your jaw clench. “oh very funny dean.” you retorted, hands resting in your pockets so you didn’t choke the man. “why don’t i just go slash all your tires? then maybe we can be bus buddies.”

“don’t you dare even think about touching my baby!” dean’s finger had lifted in the air in a pointing motion at you, and sam felt his hands lift up and slap against his thighs. “oh dear god, you guys are killing me! there’s people who need are help, and you two fighting like an old married couple isn’t going to help them.”

the sour look on your face when sam mentioned you and dean in the same sentence as married couple could’ve been made as a reaction photo, yet sam and dean didn’t acknowledge it as they led the way outside and to the infamous chevy impala.

nothing could ever prepare sam for the long car rides with you and his brother. it was either copious hours of bickering or a tense silence that had sam so uncomfortable he questioned if walking was a good idea.

this time the silence was so thick, sam genuinely reached his breaking point. Years of breaking up your arguments and having to be the middleman drove him to a dire conclusion; he needed to get you and Dean to like each other.

the plan was truly fool proof. force the two of you to work on the case together and boom, all the arguing and petty fights would be a faraway memory. sam had to contain his grin when he mentioned that interviewing the families is more of a one person job than going to the morgue. his grin didn’t leave his face even as he mentioned that he was better with comforting grieving families than either you or dean.

no words were spoken between you and dean in the car ride towards the morgue. in all honesty, you never knew what to say to the man. he was always angry, finding something to get mad about and always finding a way for it to be your fault.

truthfully, maybe that’s why you hated him. he never let you explain yourself, always jumping to conclusions and blaming you for the smallest things. if it wasn’t for his quick temper and communication issues, you’d probably have a huge crush on the man.

it was dean winchester at the end of the day. and as much of a dick as he was to you, you witnessed those moments he had with sam or with a family member or victim on a case where he wasn’t an absolute dickhead. it was sad really, how much dean hated you. sam spoke up and down that you and dean would be a great duo, yet you never got to prove him right or wrong since his older brother couldn’t go five minutes without arguing with you.

although, something you weren’t aware of was that dean’s thoughts were very similar to yours. he didn’t know why you got under his skin, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you for weeks after you would leave.

the man knew there was nothing wrong with you. he was just stubborn, and pushing people away before he got too close to them was his specialty. what if you became someone special in his life? what if because of that, you died, and then dean would blame himself for the rest of his life.

it was easier to keep you at an arms length than to get too close, and yeah sam would say he was being childish, but dean didn’t really care. you hating him and staying alive was better than him meaning something to you and that being the reason you were dead.

the trip to the morgue was awkward for the better part. you were trying to rid your mind of any thoughts you had on dean in the car and the man in question was trying his best to remain a good foot away from you. both of you could tell that something had shifted in that stupid ten minute car ride, but neither of you wanted to bring it up.

sam knew something was up when he met with you and dean again. it wasn’t even close to his end goal, but he knew that he was getting close to the feud between you and dean to finally be over.

his final shove was suggesting that you and dean check out the home of moira carlson while he goes to talk to the sheriff in charge of the murders. an argument raged on, but begrudgingly, you and dean left together to go investigate the number one suspects home.

dean had gotten to the home in under ten minutes, and now you found yourself and dean sneaking around the back of mrs carlson’s home to slip in the back door.

a scoff could be heard behind you. and as you turned around, you saw dean with an exasperated look on his face. “jesus woman, can you breathe any louder?”

the pettiness of dean’s complaint just had you rolling your eyes, turning back so you could make your way to where the sliding back door was; unlocked thankfully.

moira carlson’s home definitely screamed evil witch who enjoys killing people. occult items and witchy like items were sprawled around the living and dining room. a big pot in the kitchen alongside weird looking herbs also tipped you off. you would’ve mentioned how cliche all of this was if dean didn’t drop and shatter a statue like a dumb ass.

“are you serious!” you exclaimed, whipping around to look at dean’s hunched figure, trying to clean the broken pieces of the statue in a hurry. “can you not be a complete oaf for one damn second?”

the eldest winchester just laughed humourlessly, standing back up with all the broken pieces in his hand. “i’m not the one stomping around like an ogre. she can be home for all we know.”

“coming from the guy with the cinder blocks for shoes.” you scoffed, both you and dean looking down at his monstrous boots. “all of this complaining is really rich coming from you, dean winchester.”

it seemed that at that very moment, dean had enough of your guys’ bickering. with a wild look in his eye, dean flew off the handle in a way that you probably wouldn’t be able to describe in full accuracy ever again. he started off with a disbelieved “really!” and then ranted on for longer than you ever could’ve pictured.

“how is it possible that you think i’m the one always complaining, miss whines a lot.” your eyes buggered out of your head as you looked on past dean. “you know, i’ve been keeping my cool for sammy’s sake but you are really a piece of work. i know i’m not the best person to be around 24/7 but cmon, can you not try and be civil for once?”

he kept going. yet you weren’t focused on whatever dean was saying, for moira carlson, in all of her evil witchy goodness, was coming up behind dean with a spell on her tongue that did not look friendly at all.

“dean.” you muttered, watching as the now ghastly looking woman got closer. he didn’t listen though, just threw his arms in the air and let his hands reside on his hips like a child. “oh so mature y/n. go on and interrupt me-“

“get down you idiot!” your body smacked down to the floor just as the witch threw dean across the room. poor bastard didn’t even have time to turn around. attempting to take shelter behind the sofa, you grabbed on to dean’s sprawled body and shuffled across the floor while trying to shoot at mrs carlson.

somehow, you got the two of you behind the sofa, propping dean in a sitting position before resting your body over the couch so you could take a shot. dean was frantically texting sam, warning his brother about what danger you two were in while wheezing in the air that got knocked out of his lungs.

with a mighty wave of her hand, the witch blew the couch into two pieces. dean’s body slumped back to the floor, too bruised and in pain to allow the man to even move a muscle. a loud cackle could be heard as mrs carlson moved in on dean, ready to deliver her final blow.

she was about to, if it wasn’t for your gun going off at the perfect time and striking her right in her forehead. the woman slumped to the ground beside dean, the man in question shimmying as far away from her as possible before you rushed over and propped him up on the nearest wall.

“oh god.” you mumbled, watching as dean nearly coughed up a lung. you knew he was okay, he took worse beating than this. it was just the fact of seeing him get thrown around like a rag doll that had an emotion bubbling to the forefront of your mind. one you never thought you’d experience towards dean.

waving you off, dean sat himself up straighter and took a deep intake of air. “i’m okay y/n, it’s fine. though you probably just saved my life.” dean all of a sudden had the realization that he didn’t need to be so closed off all this time. you could easily handle your own, and having someone like you would probably be the best thing that ever happened to him.

a sheepish blush rose to your cheeks as dean stared at you longer, and suddenly, you realized that maybe the man wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. deep down, you cared about him. yeah, you two could fight like cats and dogs, but so does everyone. at the end of the day, you would always be there for dean and he’d do the same for you.

“i’m sorry for how i’ve treated you these past couple of years.” your random word vomit had dean snapping his head up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared at your nervous features. “i know you have your own way of doing things and i shouldn’t pester you about everything. it sucks that you probably still hate me, but can we please work on us-“

“i never hated you.” dean cut you off so quickly it was almost like he couldn’t bare hold down those words any longer. your nervous face turned shocked, and suddenly dean had the confidence to say what he always wanted to. “ever since i was young, every person i’ve ever cared about either leave’s or dies, and i somehow just knew that you were special the first moment i met you.” a somber smile appeared on your face, and you found yourself moving closer and closer to dean as he continued to speak.

“i’m sorry i never gave you a chance sweetheart, but would you give me one now?” you didn’t have to be asked twice, for in an instant you perched yourself in dean’s lap and smashed your lips onto his.

dean didn’t take long to reciprocate your actions. hands moving to go around your waist and nestle in your hair while your own gripped tightly onto his t shirt. dean’s mouth was exploring all the places he wished he could’ve kissed you sooner. your soft lips, all around your face. when he moved on to placing sloppy kisses on your neck, you felt the vibrations of his voice against your skin as he kept mumbling. ‘so perfect’ and ‘you’re so beautiful, everything i could ever dream of.’

unknown to the two of you, sam had just walked in the front door and was ready to defend you all against the destructive witch. though to his surprise — and slight disgust if he was being honest, he stepped into the living room room to see you and dean behind a destroyed couch. the two of you were heavily making out and dean just put it upon himself to wrap his one arm around the underside of your ass, hoisting you further up on his body and giving it a firm squeeze in the process.

“well fuck.” sam mumbled to himself, slightly gagging up his salad from lunch as he watched dean pull your head back by a tuft of your hair and start leaving trails of hickeys down your neck.

“yeah, that’s enough of that.” the youngest winchester just silently mumbled to himself as he walked back outside the front door, leaving you and dean in the middle of a random house to sort out all of your pent up feelings in a way he definitely shouldn’t be seeing.

[nakylvr]

giving g!p megan her first blowjob... im having so many thoughts

no cause...i had to make this a lil thing

— LOST IN YOU 🍒

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, f!reader, g!p!megan, sub!megan, dom!reader, oral

"you okay?"

you stare up at megan, sitting on your knees while she sits on the bed in front of you, her boxers at her ankles with her cock hard at the sight of you. you're both not really sure how this situation came about. it started with just watching a movie before going to sleep, but the moment a scene comes on where a guy is getting a blowjob by some chick, your girlfriend was eyeing you before flat out saying she hadn't gotten one before. being the good girlfriend you were, you obviously decided to help her with that.

"yeah," megan says with a nod, but there's uncertainty in her voice you can recognize.

"we don't have to do this if you don't-"

"i want to," she cuts you off quickly. "please,"

"okay," you nod. your eyes remain looking up at her as you inch your face closer, grabbing her cock with your hand and giving it a few slow pumps, watching the way she grits her teeth together. you press your lips to her tip, sticking your tongue out and licking the beads of precum dripping from the head. parting your lips, you slowly take her in your mouth, seeing her instantly throw her head back.

"o-oh my god- fuck," megan gasps the second she feels the warmth of your mouth around her. her head is leaned back already, eyes squeezing shut as a whimper leaves her mouth. her hands are gripping the bedding tightly, not knowing what else to do to try and keep herself from cumming instantly.

you try your best to take all of her, at least as much as you could with the girth of her cock having you struggling slightly. your hands rest on her thighs as your eyes don't look away from her. you slowly swirl your tongue around her length, hollowing your cheeks and slowly starting to bob your head up and down.

the whine megan lets out almost has you thinking she'd end up cumming within the minute, but you didn't mind. "fuck, yn," she whines. she's trying so hard to not buck her hips, but can't help and accidentally do it, a groan falling from her lips at the light gag you let out and feeling her tip hit the back of your throat.

your nails dig into her skin as she accidentally thrusts into your mouth, a gag coming from you at the feeling of her hitting your throat. you reach for one of her hands that was nearly tearing the bedding, guiding it to your head which she immediately grabs ahold of your hair. you decide you shouldn't tease the poor girl, seeing as she already looked so overwhelmed by your little ministrations. you go a little faster now, going all the way down and taking all of her, holding there for a second, and coming back up.

"shit, ngh, you-you're go-good at this, f-fuck!" megan grabs your hair with a tight grip, tugging on it every time your head goes back down with strings of whines and whimpers leaving her mouth and tears brimming in her eyes. she finally opens her eyes and looks down at you, your eyes locking with hers causing her to twitch in your mouth. "oh my-oh my god!" her whining is progressively getting louder as she gets closer to cumming, and she accidentally thrusts into your mouth again eliciting another gag from you. "sh-shit, 'm so close- fuck!" it's an almost overwhelming amount of pleasure she's feeling, and a few stray tears fall from her eyes as you go all the way down and stay there. seeing the saliva dripping from the corner of your lips down your chin mixed with the look in your eyes and feeling your take her completely has her eyes rolling back and letting out a long whine, bucking her hips and cumming down your throat.

you watch as she comes undone above you, keeping her in your mouth as she cums before removing yourself from her and swallowing it all. drips of her cum mixed with saliva coated your lips, and the sight alone almost had megan hard again. she pants heavily as you get up off your knees and stand, leaning down and kissing her. she moans into the kiss tasting herself on your lips, her hands grabbing your waist.

when you part from the kiss, you smile at her. "how was it?"

"so fucking good," megan says in a single breath. "i need you to do that more often."

"just ask and i will," you reply, pecking her lips.

[rhiannonsknife]

this is based off of something i saw in your mean dom!jackie blurb but i'm kind of obsessed with the idea of jackie riding your face...

she's so shy about it at first, asking you if you're sure and that she's worried about hurting you but you need her so badly that you reassure her that it'll all be ok and to just "get up there already, please"

her thighs shake as she's lowering herself down onto your face. you eventually get fed up with how slow she's coming down that you wrap your hands around her thighs and pull her down onto your face, not even caring that it lowkey hurt 😭

she's keening at the first feeling of your tongue in her cunt and it's not long before she's grinding herself against your face, hands tangling in your hair as she rides your tongue. it's so sloppy and so wet but at the same time it's so perfect and you're convinced you could die like this, face between her thighs and suffocating against her pussy

-🪐

i can’t thank you enough for picking up on that. because yes!!

so: face riding with jackie <333

whether this is mean!dom jackie from this thought we’re talking about or just jackie in general, i think she’d love the idea of riding your face! she’s probably been fantasizing about it forever before she’s finally brave and comfortable enough to bring it up. (after an insane amount of pillow humping, fucking herself to the thought simply isn’t enough anymore. she needs to ride your face instead.)

so, jackie decides to be bold about it and finally brings it up:

“how long have you been thinking about this?” you ask her, after she’s blurted the words: “i want to sit on your face!” whilst the two of you had been cuddling comfortably. that could’ve gone a bit smoother jackie thinks to herself as she blushes furiously. she half expects you to laugh at her. jeff certainly would have. but then again, she never would’ve wanted to sit on his face to begin with.

“we don’t have to!” she immediately says, shaking her head apologetically. “we can just…go back to watching a movie. or something. you don’t-”

“i want to” you interject.

jackie stares at you blankly. she hadn’t even thought about the possibility of you wanting her to. but, after some more assurance and a lot of fumbling to both get her out of her clothes and find the right position, she’s hovering over you.

at that point, she’s probably still wearing her skirt. you’d been making out for way longer than the ache between her legs could handle, grinding against each other and feeling up the other’s body through too many layers of clothes. now, she’s too impatient, too pent-up to get out of bed and step out of it. so, she keeps it on instead, whilst you’re beneath her in your underwear, licking your lips when you notice the way her inner thighs are glistening with her arousal.

“come here” you urge, reaching around her and holding the back of her thighs. you can feel the muscles in her legs jump under your touch.

“but” jackie points out, shyly biting down on her lower lip. “i don’t wanna hurt you. what if i suffocate you??”

under different circumstances, you would’ve laughed. not now, though, when you can smell her scent when you can see how wet she is for you. and yet jackie is just out of reach from your mouth, depriving you of the heavenly taste of her.

“you won’t” you try again, giving her muscles a firm squeeze that makes her squeal in surprise. “get up here already, jax, please”

you’re not gonna try and pretend like you’re not desperate to finally get a taste of her. to finally eat her out the way you both long for.

when she finally gives in, it is slow, tentative for your sake. jackie doesn’t put her full weight on you, you can tell as much from the way her knees dig into the mattress on either side of your head. you can taste her on your tongue, at least, but you have to cradle your neck to reach her, and she’s still holding back.

so, instead, you reach for her, grab her, and force her down against your mouth. jackie gasps when she truly sits for the first time.

„h-holy shit“ she whispers from above. although you can’t see it from where you’re positioned, jackie’s head has fallen back and she’s panting already.

you only lick through her at first, doing most of the work for her. you lap up the arousal that’s practically dripping from her cunt, humming at the taste of her as the fabric of her skirt flares out around your head. but it isn’t long until jackie takes over, until she’s got enough confidence in her to do what she wants to. what she needs to.

the moment jackie actually starts riding your face, you’re convinced that you could die happy this way. that even if she did suffocate you with her thighs, you wouldn’t mind all that much.

it’s so much all at once and not nearly enough at the same time: the weight of her, grinding against your mouth, your chin, your nose. your whole face, really, smeared in jackie’s arousal.

she grabs a fistful of your hair, tugs on it and pushes you closer, further into her cunt until she’s just bouncing on your tongue, high-pitched moans spilling from her lips while she gets off on your face.

it honestly becomes one of her favorite positions. there are few things she’d rather do in bed, knowing she can simply use your face to get off and then lick it from your skin once she’s done <3

jackie cums so fast like this, too :(( the first time, she might actually apologize for the way she finishes within mere minutes. but, once it becomes something the two of you regularly do, she stops with the apologies altogether, realizing that there’s no point in them whatsoever and that she’ll always end up cumming all over your face in record time. (and just wait until jackie finds out about 69…that position hates to see her coming…)

[emthephantom]

'Studying'- L.B

Lorenzo Berkshire x F!Reader You got yourself a date but how will Enzo react? Warnings: Slightly suggestive but no actual smut Words: 1032 A/N: Sorry for the lack of posts and how rushed this is - This is a bit different to what I usually write but I hope you guys enjoy this one :)

'Enz!' you shout as you run into the Great Hall. Enzo looks up at the sound of his name and sees you approaching him with a piece of paper. You plop down next to him at the table and slam the paper down, 'I passed!' you squeal excitedly, 'Thank you so much for your help, I couldn't do it without you.' you gush, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a short hug, one he wished would last longer. 'It's no problem Y/N/N, you know I don't mind helping you study.'

Enzo's about to speak again when another voice interrupts him, 'Y/N.' You turn around and meet Oliver Wood's gaze, 'I was wondering if you'd like to come to Hogsmeade with me.' 'She's bus-' Enzo starts. 'Sure, would tomorrow be alright?' you ask sweetly. Oliver smiles and nods before returning to his table. Pansy immediately gasps and grabs you, 'Oh my god Y/N, I'm so happy for you!' 'Pans, it's just one date.' 'Who's to say there won't be more?' she giggles. 'I thought we were studying tomorrow?' Enzo asks sheepishly. 'We are, I'll just have to leave earlier.' Disappointed he turns back to his food, poking at it with his fork- Had he finally lost you to someone else?

The next day, you find yourself in Enzo's dorm, a usual occurrence. It had been a few hours and flashcards were sprinkled across the room, long forgotten. The two of you lay on his bed, giggles and laughter filling the room; you had always liked Enzo's laugh which is why moments like these were so special. 'No, I'm being serious, first week here I tripped and fell face flat on the stairs.' Enzo revealed, a goofy grin appearing on his face. You gasped, 'I think I saw that!' 'No you didn't!' Mischief flooded his widened eyes as his hands reached for your body, beginning to tickle you. 'Enz, no!' Your protests were ignored as Enzo continued his torture. He moved to straddle you as a way to keep you still, 'Say you didn't see me fall Y/N!' he demanded, his slender fingers still digging into your hips. 'NEVER!' you shouted.

Soon after, a comfortable silence fell over you. You were suddenly aware of the position and your face flushed. A desire in you resurfaced, one you pushed back ever so hard; you wish Enzo was yours. Your face softens at the thought, staring deeply into his brown eyes. The two of you stayed in that position for what felt like an eternity before Enzo started moving off you. 'I'm gonna shower but I'll be quick' he smiles while walking around the room, grabbing his things.

The bathroom door clicks shut and the water turns on; you're left alone with your thoughts. Why were you even going on this date? Do you even like Oliver? He's a nice guy but... but he isn't Enzo. Noticing the time, you scramble to your feet, calling out to the Slytherin boy, 'Enz, I have to go, my date is in an hour. I'll come see you later.' you say, moving towards the door.

Rough hands grip your wrist, tugging you backwards into a hard chest. Enzo's hands find your hips, turning you around and backing you against the door. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, water dripping from his hair onto his toned body and a towel hanging dangerously low on his waist. You scan the sight before you and your knees almost buckle. Rage emitted from him and his eyes darkened. 'Don't you dare leave' he growled. You had never seen him like this and it only made you swoon more.

'I'm the only one who should take you out.' he admits, his fierce tone still shining through his words. 'What do you mean?' you ask hesitantly, not wanting to face disappointment. His beautiful smile turns into a smirk and he leans into you even more, 'How about I show you?'

Enzo's lips crash against yours and you waste no time tangling your hands in his wet hair. His grip remains firmly on your hips, one of his hands trailing up to meet your cheek lovingly. He pulls away breathlessly, his chest heaving, 'Was that good enough?'

You don't respond, instead pushing your lips together again with more passion. Your hand goes down his chest feeling his athletic body, desperately needing to feel more of him. Your other hand remains in his hair; a simple tug elicits a low groan from him and he kisses you harder. Enzo moves you away from the door and hoists you up, his grip moving to the back of your thighs as you wrap them around him. His plush lips trail down your jaw and he starts nipping at your neck. Your back meets his bed and he crawls on top of you; the familiarity of the position makes your head buzz. Enzo continues leaving marks along your neck before pulling away and looking at you.

'This isn't gonna be a one-time thing is it?' he asks, his lips swollen and eyes filled with desire. His hand traces circles on your thigh awaiting your answer. You reach a hand up to his face, taking him in, 'No, Enz, I want you, all of you and only you.' A sign of relief escapes him and he ducks back down kissing you softly, 'Let me show you I feel the same.'

Dinner arrives and you stumble into the hall, Enzo trailing behind you with your pinkies linked. You sit at your usual table and see the rest of the group looking at your dishevelled frame. 'Good date?' Blaise teases, taking note of the hickeys that littered your neck. 'You could say that,' you admitted, 'Wasn't with Oliver though.'

'You owe me ten galleons!' Mattheo screamed at Pansy, 'I knew they'd get together!' She reluctantly hands him the money and turns to you, 'So you and Enzo?' Heat rushes to your cheeks as you recall what happened earlier. 'Thank god it happened, he wouldn't shut up about you!' Blaise complains. You attempt to hide a smile as you interlace your hands with Enzo's.

'I'm glad it happened too.'

[cherubshert]

Contents: Mentions of not eating for a long time, blood, vampires... not proofread 𖧧

a/n: had this idea as a part of a longer series, but idk maybe I'll make it something different.

The cloth covering your hiding place is lifted, allowing light to suddenly reach your eyes. You cuddle your body in search of non existing warmth as you look up, your eyes meeting your boyfriend's. Sunghoon's eyes are filled with concern and relief, His hands reaching to cup your cheek, trailing down to the already healed bite mark on your neck.

"You hungry bunny?" You nod weakly, taking your lip to your mouth, sucking it to gather blood. You allow him to pull you out of your previous safe haven, lifting you in his arms as he makes way to the kitchen.

You throw your hands over his shoulders, your face hidden in his neck. Your newly extremely sensitive nose pressed to his cold skin, his mix of venom and blood causing your stomach to growl metaphorically.

You pressed your lips to his neck causing his steps to stutter, stumbling slightly in surprise. When your fangs graze his skin, he pauses tilting his head awy from you to give you more access. It stings when you sink in, he stops in hallway, holding you tighter to make sure you don't slip from his grasp.

Your lips on him bringing back long repressed human emotions, the lingering beating in his ear convinces him for a second his heart has sprung back to life. You pull him in the more you drink, hands desperately clawing at his skin to pull him close.

You pull away once mildly satisfied, pressing your head into his chest, and he completes the journey to the kitchen. Jay sits at the dinning table with an amused smirk on his face, his heavy boots tapping on your floors.

"What a sight to behold." he starts, "Please don't." Jay chuckles. Your sat in a chair across him. "She looks sick, haven't you been feeding her?" "I try, she runs away at the scent of blood. " Sunghoon replies, cleaning at the bruise on his neck. He lick his thumb using it to wipe the bruise closed.

"I worried for a second she has grown scared of me." "Shouldn't have turned her then." Sunghoon shoots him a glare, sitting beside you.

"Why'd you call for me anyway. I don't work with new vampires. " Sunghoon sighs heavily cupping your hand. "Only you and Heeseung know about this." "Damn..." The older starts looking at you, shifting his attention back to his friend. "you really decided to say fuck everything with this huh? Expected better from you Hoonie."

A pause falls on the room. "You know what will happen, if this is found out right?" "I do." he sighs "Please, don't tell anyone, I'm still trying to figure her out, I won't be able to keep her safe if they start hunting her, please."

"I wasn't planning on telling. I find this quite amusing actually, I want this show to go on as long as possible. " Jay digs through his bag, tossing a sachet filled with red towards sunghoon. The sight causes you to perk up, your sight following the bag. Jay chuckles, mumbling softly under his breath.

He stands to his feet, shrugging his jacket to sit comfortably on his shoulders. "Don't worry friend" he starts, his gloved hand tapping sunghoon's shoulder. "You have an eternity to figure things out."

[deeranger]

Sam letting Dean suck on his breasts to calm him down when he is mad or angry is so real… It also makes perfect sense because in canon Dean misses Mary a lot and Sam is so much like their mother (save me Sam/Mary parallels save me). Dean definitely has memories of her, he probably sees her in Sam sometimes.

Oooh..... Oh. Mommy kink, anyone? 😏

"Yeah, that's it, just let me—" Dean babbles, cutting himself off with a moan when his lips close around Sam's nipple. His little brother has barely had the time to properly open his shirt, but Dean's already shoving his face in there, eager and so damn riled up that he's hyperventilating. It doesn't take many seconds before teeth graze the tender flesh either, any restraint and finesse forgotten long ago.

"Oww, s-slow down," Sam gasps, but there's a small smile tugging on his lip despite the pain. Dean whines in response, a high-pitched noise stuck in his throat as he suckles, tongue lapping greedily at the hardened nub.

"M'right here, De.... Not going anywhere," Sam adds, voice shaky, as Dean eagerly palms his other tit, strong fingers squeezing it like he'll never let go.

"Hmmm," Dean just mumbles, his hot mouth leaving smears of saliva to cool everywhere on the tanned skin. By now, he's so hard in his jeans that it looks downright painful, and Sam's no better off. There's no way either of them is going to last long. Every few seconds their hips involuntarily twitch, small stutters that they don't quite manage to conceal, but right now there's really no need to hide it. Not now, not anymore. They're too far gone for that.

"Oh, God...." Sam grunts when his big brother nips at him, only to let go of his nipple with a loud and vulgar pop. It's nothing short of pornographic, and as Dean stares up at him through dark lashes, the younger Winchester can't help a moan falling from his lips, raw and blatantly wanton. As he sits there on the edge of the motel bed, Dean looks so small between his legs, so.... Devoted. And the way he's leaning into Sam, just clinging to him like his life depends on it, it's making every fiber of him want to relieve the pressure building in his groin. But he can't. Oh, he can't.

"Please, can I just....?" Dean asks, and he sounds wrecked. Both his hands are now on Sam's tits, squeezing them together like they're actually big enough for it. Like Dean has done a million times with the bar skanks he'll pick up at night. Only, Sam's chest is firm and muscular, not at all as supple as the various C cups he usually gets his hands on. It's not the same. Oh, but it's Sam. And he's so warm and beautiful, endless planes of golden skin, smooth under his calloused fingertips. It's like he can even feel the heartbeat underneath it, just thrumming away in a strong jackrabbiting rhythm that perfectly matches his own. It's intoxicating. It's safe, it's home. And it's so much like her.

"Fuck..." Dean says, the word punching out of him in a breathless moan. As his fingers pinch and caress and squeeze, his eyes never leave Sam's face. God, he's beautiful. And he has Mary's eyes. Shit, he even has her smile.

By now there's a wet patch forming on the denim fabric of his jeans, and Dean can't help but grind himself against the side of the mattress. Sparks zap up his spine as he does, and a loud moan tumbles out of him.

"Oh, God, I n-need... I need to..." he whimpers, dark green eyes laser-focused on Sam's lips while he humps the edge of the bed.

"You can have whatever you want, De- just- take whatever you want," Sam babbles in return, hips twitching and mouth open as his brother squeezes his chest. The coil in Dean's groin tightens, the heat there flaring up in an instant by Sam's words. It's like a goddamn flip of a switch. And without hesitation, he's suddenly hauling himself off the floor and into Sam's lap knees digging into the bed on either side of him with a protesting squeal of the metal springs in the cheap mattress.

There's no more hesitation. No more second thoughts. There's simply no room for it anymore, and Dean's mouth crashes against Sam's in a wild frenzy of clacking teeth and prodding tongues. It's primal, and there's something so unique in the way Sam tastes, something that sets Dean's groin alight. He tastes like cinnamon and raspberries and coffee, like something long forgotten, like everything Dean ever missed... He tastes like friggin mother's milk.

A pitiful mewling sound spills from Dean's mouth, desperate and so, so hungry. He almost sounds like he's hurt, and he's pawing at Sam now, big hands roaming everywhere to squeeze and tug and pinch like he can't get close enough. He's almost there. Shit. He's almost there, he's so, so close but still just too far away to slip over the edge, that fire blazing in his groin and in his mind and everywhere, like he's going mad with it, like he's friggin dying from it, and his dick fucking hurts and—

"M-Mommy..." he whimpers into Sam's mouth, mind a whirl and body ablaze. He can feel Sam tense, feel the way he stiffens ever so slightly, insecure surprise making his large body go extra taut under him. But it's only for a second. Just a second, as scary and fleeting as a ghost. And then, Sam relaxes once more, delves deeper into the messy kiss with a throaty groan of his own. There's even a stuttering roll of his hips, eager and clumsy, and then they're suddenly grinding together, denim against denim. It's rough and the angle is weird, but it's everything Dean ever wanted. It's electrifying. And while they breathe each other's breath, tongues lapping and swirling and tangling, Sam whispers into his brother's mouth:

"It's okay, baby boy... I've got you."

The reaction is instant. Dean groans against Sam's lips, hips thrusting and grinding against his little brother's crotch, seeking release, touch, anything, just more, more more. The fire in his groin feels searing, like it's lapping at his spine, scalding tendrils shooting through his abdomen and spreading like wildfire. He's right at the edge, the point of no return rushing past him so fast that he's forgetting how to breathe.

"Please—" he manages to choke out, but it bleeds into a helpless moan before he can finish it. It seems that Sam knows exactly what he wants though, because suddenly a big hand drops to the bulge in Dean's pants, long fingers rubbing at him through the denim:

"Come on, baby... Let mommy take care of you," Sam whispers, low and throaty into Dean's mouth.

And that's all it takes.

With a whimper, Dean shoots hot and messy inside his jeans, hips jerking in cramp-like thrusts against Sam's hand. It's as clumsy as it is mindless, both of them writhing against each other. It's animalistic. The sounds they make easily rival the dirtiest porn flick, and Dean's mind is reeling with want and more and Mary and Sam, Sam, Sam. It's everything Dean ever wanted and everything he should never have. Oh, but it's beautiful. It's perfect. And he's finally home.

[sequinsmile-x]

Weary

Guilt rolls in his gut when he gets the door open and he is met with the sight of his frazzled wife, her hair in a haphazard bun on top of her head, dressed in the clothes he’s fairly sure she was wearing three days ago with milk stains on the shoulder of a shirt that used to be his.

AKA - the one where Aaron comes home from a case to find his wife and their newborn baby girl worn out from a lack of sleep.

-x-

Hi besties,

I am exhausted after being back at work for the first time since my surgery. I've only been working in the mornings but I am worn out...I'm not entirely sure my brain was even switched on when I wrote this. I just opened my laptop, opened a Google Doc and started to type.

I really hope you enjoy this. It's just some soft hotchniss (softniss hehe) that I think we all deserve <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron hears Alice crying through the front door, the baby’s wails piercing through the thick solid wood as if it were made of nothing more than plasterboard. The guilt he’d been battling the last few days, which had simmered low in his gut whenever he thought about his wife at home alone with their newborn and Jack, comes back with a vengeance. A spark of it catching fire in his veins as he digs through his pockets to find his keys, desperate to get into the house and help in a way he hadn’t been able to do from two states away. 

He’d hesitated in the first place, not sure he wanted to leave Emily and the kids at home only a month after Alice had been born, but Strauss had given him no choice. He had taken the first two weeks of his daughter’s life off of work, and had allowed himself to sink into the happy, exhausting, bubble he and Emily’s home had turned into. Going back to work at all had been hard, his heart in a vice as he walked out of the house for the first time for longer than simply going to the store to get milk or bread, but going away on his first case three days ago had been harder. He’d called every night, smiled at every picture Emily sent him of the kids together, and missed them all more than he could put into words. 

The guilt rolls in his gut when he gets the door open and he is met with the sight of his frazzled wife, her hair in a haphazard bun on top of her head, dressed in the clothes he’s fairly sure she was wearing three days ago with milk stains on the shoulder of a shirt that used to be his. She has Alice in her arms, her body tense as she tries to soothe the newborn, her posture getting visibly tighter with their daughter’s continued cries. Emily had sounded tired whenever they spoke. A croak to her voice that had once meant hangovers and late nights with the girls, her head in his lap as she lamented that last shot of tequila as he offered to go buy fast food for her, or the end of a long case when they’d slink into bed together, her face pressed against his neck, already half asleep before he tugged the covers over them. 

He wonders if she’s slept at all whilst he’s been gone, if he should have pushed more whenever she insisted she was fine, but he couldn’t change that now. All he could do was help her, to look after both of his girls in whatever way they needed him. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, smiling as he steps towards her, his heart aching when she looks at him with tired eyes, never stopping the way she’s rocking side to side in an attempt to soothe Alice. One hand on the tiny baby’s back and the other cupping her head, her thumb tracing back and forth over her temple in a way they’d learnt calmed her down when she was just hours old. 

“Hi,” she chokes out, her eyes shining as her voice cracks. She’s as on edge as he’s ever known her to be, barely holding herself together, and he drops his go-bag to the floor, all of his focus on her, “You’re home.” 

She sounds so relieved it breaks his heart, makes the pieces she’d put back together herself facture, guilt and regret slipping into the gaps as he wonders why he didn’t just tell Strauss no when she told him he needed to return to full duties. 

He shakes it off, pushes away however he’s feeling right now because whatever she’s feeling is infinitely more important. Her usual emotional control was long gone, left somewhere in her first trimester when she started to cry at anything. It frustrated her to no end, made her angry at herself whenever she’d get emotional over something she deemed ridiculous, and he knew he had to tread carefully. 

He didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was. 

“Yeah,” he says, stepping towards them, “I’m home,” he leans in and kisses her forehead and then kisses the top of Alice’s head, catching Emily’s thumb at the same time. He places his hand on Emily’s back and rubs a circle on it. He feels more than hears her sharp intake of breath and he knows he’s only seconds away from both of them being in tears, “Do you want me to take her, sweetheart?” 

She sucks in a breath and then blows it out, her cheeks puffing with it as she looks up at the ceiling, a failed attempt to stop tears pushing past her lashline, “I’ve been trying to get her down for hours,” she says, her lips pressed together as her chin trembles, “It’s been like this since you left. She won’t sleep. Jess came to get Jack a few hours ago, he’s sleeping over at hers tonight so at least he can get some sleep,” she sucks in a breath again and it catches on her ribs, the ache of it something that rattles in her chest, “I’m so tired, Aaron.” 

He kisses her forehead again, “Let me take her, okay?” He says gently, still rubbing circles on Emily’s back as she finally stops swaying side to side. She nods, too tired to fight him on the request, to insist that she could do it because she wasn’t sure she could. She kisses Alice’s head, whispering an apology against her dark hair before she hands her over, “She’ll be due a feed soon, right?” 

She nods, her arms tight across her chest, her arms aching both from now being empty and from what felt like holding Alice nonstop for days, “Yeah. I kept trying to nurse her to see if that was why she wouldn’t settle but she just wouldn’t latch.” 

“Is there milk in the fridge?” He asks, shifting from side to side like she had been, and Emily wraps her arms around herself even tighter when it works almost immediately, Alice’s cries quietening down to a whimper as if all she’d wanted all along was her father. 

“Some. I pumped this morning,” she answers and he looks up at her, his smile so kind and soft she almost bursts into tears. She struggles to suck in a breath, her lungs stuffed full of sadness and every bad thing she’d been thinking about herself the last few days, “Haven’t really had a chance since.” 

“Why don’t you go and have some time to yourself?” He suggests, “I’ll try and settle Little Miss Hotchner.” 

She wants to argue again but can’t, all of her energy focused on holding herself together, on the way Alice was practically silent now, her fist in her mouth as she self soothes for the first time in hours. 

“I…I might go shower,” she says, pointing over her shoulder to the stairs, “I don’t remember the last time I did.” 

Aaron nods, “I’ll meet you up there, okay?”

“Okay,” she replies, looking at them once more, her gaze lingering before she turns around and disappears up the stairs, the drag of her tired feet against the floor echoing throughout the hallway. 

He sighs when he can no longer see her, and he looks down at Alice, her dark wide eyes meeting his, “You really put Mommy through it the last few days, huh?” He says, kissing the top of her head as he heads to the kitchen, “We’re going to make sure you have something to eat and then get some sleep,” he kisses her again, “And then I’ll make sure Mommy does the same.” 

___

He settles Alice into her bassinet with the same level of care and anxiety he’d have if moving an active bomb. He holds his breath as he lays her down, sighing happily when she stays asleep. He steps away, making sure he grabs the baby monitor as he goes even though he knows he won’t be far enough away to truly need it. He pauses when he makes it to the door of the ensuite and knocks before he walks in. 

He hadn’t heard running water at any point even though he knew Emily was in there, so he half expects to find her sat on the floor, asleep and propped up against the wall. Instead, he finds her sitting on the closed toilet seat, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, her sigh audible as he gently closes the door behind him. 

“Is she asleep?” 

He nods, even though she doesn’t look up, and then kneels in front of her, ignoring the crack in his knees as they hit the tiled floor, “She’s asleep,” he says, reaching for her hand and linking their fingers together, running his finger back and forth over the pulse point on her wrist, “I thought you were going to shower.” 

She laughs humourlessly, “I was going to but…I don’t have the energy. The thought of washing my hair made me cry…” She shakes her head at herself, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, “So I sat down for a minute and lost track of time I guess.” She sniffs and shakes her head, her lips pressed together as she tries and fails to hold back a sob, “I don’t think I’m any good at this.” 

He squeezes her hand, “You don’t think you’re any good at what, sweetheart?” 

“Being her mom.”

He barely has time to register what she’s said, the insecurity he’d seen thrumming beneath her skin since he’d got home lingering in the air between them, because she bursts into tears. A sob catching in her throat as she leans forward into the embrace she knows he’ll have waiting. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close as he rubs his hand up and down her arm. 

“You’re an amazing mom,” he says, kissing her temple, “Alice and Jack are both so lucky to have you.” 

She scoffs and shakes her head as she pulls back to look at him, “I can’t even get my baby to sleep,” she furiously wipes tears from her cheeks, “I tried for hours and she just settled immediately for you.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, cupping her cheek to encourage her to look at him, “You’re exhausted. She was too. And you were both overwhelmed and making each other more unsettled. It happens and it doesn’t make you anything less than an incredible mom,” he rests his forehead against hers, “Alice loves you. So much,” he smiles as he squeezes her hand, “We all do.” 

She blows out a stuttering breath, not entirely sure if she believes him, and she shakes her head, “I’m just…I’m so tired Aaron.” 

“I know you are,” he says, kissing her before he stands up, “Which is why I’m going to help you shower, hair washing entirely optional,” he smiles when she does, her lips pressed together as she tries to capture it, “Then whilst you get ready for bed, I’ll go downstairs and get you something to eat,” he wipes a stray tear from her cheek, “And then after you’ve eaten you can sleep. I’ll keep an eye on Alice until she next needs to be fed,” he tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, “That’s when you’ll have to step in I’m afraid. I used the last of the milk in the fridge earlier, and I lack the equipment to feed her myself.” 

Emily chuckles dryly and reaches out for him, stroking her thumb over his jawline as she cups his face, “What did I do to deserve you?” She says, her lips shaking as she desperately tries to stop crying, “I didn’t even ask how you are, or how the case was. You just walked straight into chaos.” 

He smiles and kisses her forehead before he stands, “The most beautiful kind of chaos,” he says, offering her his hand to help her up, “The real question is, what did I do to deserve you?” 

She rolls her eyes at him, the tightness in her chest easing for the first time in days, “Why don’t we just agree that we’re both lucky to have each other?”  

He stamps his lips against hers, “I can agree to that,” he says, “Now,” he says, “Hair wash, or no hair wash?” 

She scrunches her nose up, “No hair wash tonight,” she yawns, too tired to even try to hide it as she nods towards the shower, “I’m worried I’ll fall asleep in there even with your help,” she smiles at him, “So, just a shower tonight. Maybe you could help me wash my hair tomorrow though?” 

He kisses her, his smile pressed against hers, and then he pulls back, taking a moment to revel in her beauty. Stained t-shirt and tired eyes and all. “Tomorrow it is.”

[justlettheraincome]

I've met someone

"I've met someone" It was a notion, that Aziraphale had dreaded for a long time. There was a smile playing on Crowley's lips. Just the faintest notion of love hanging in the air. "You've met someone?", he repeatet. "Yes, lovely bloke", Crowley puttered on: "900 year old timelord, has seen the start of the universe and could actually name all of my stars…" There was a pain digging into Aziraphales heart. Crowley had met someone, someone who shared his ife experience. And his interests. Someone, who maybe wasn't so afraid of speed. Or his own feelings. Aziraphale felt the ground under his feet start to spin. "- anyways, I digress", Crowley finished the tangent. Taking a closer look at Aziraphale's face, he asked: "Are you alright?" "Yes, yes perfectly fine. Do go on my dear." Crowley shook his head slightly, as if to acknowledge that he didn't really believe Aziraphale. But his point seemed to be important to him, so he didn't dig further: "We talked about the problems of a nearly eternal life. And discovered that we had quite a lot in common." Aziraphale felt the ground sway again. He breathed in, softly. This was an important experience in Crowleys life. Even if he would have loved to be that guy instead of listening to Crowley going on and on about him, he owed Crowley the respect to listen to his feelings. "Including the regret of not saying something very important. And he doesn't have the chance to say it anymore. But I do. And I don't want to regret not saying it." What was Crowley going on about? Aziraphale had lost him somewhere on the way. Hadn't he just been explaining how great that guy was? "Right, okay, yes, so… We've known each other a long time. We've been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me. I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We're a team, a group. Group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't. I mean, the last few years, not really. And I would like to spend… The rest of eternity not pretending any more." With that sentence, Crowley seemed to deflate. Aziraphale needed a moment to register: "Not pretending anymore?" he repeated slowly. Crowley closed the distance between them. Yellow eyes pierced into sky-blue ones. He took another deep breath in: "Aziraphale…", there was just the tiniest bit of hesitation in his voice. A fear not yet fully overcome. "I love you."

[passengerprincessblog]

“Lewis, Next Door” ~ pt 2 Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warning: age gap (lowkey?), alcohol.

Summary: Y/N’s night out spirals into chaos, leading to a desperate late-night call to Lewis that she barely remembers making. But when he shows up to help-, slightly annoyed, and undeniably magnetic—she finds herself teetering between embarrassment and intrigue.

The bass thumps in my chest, so loud I feel it in my bones as we sway and stumble together under the neon lights. MK Club in Monaco is packed, bodies pressed together in a wave of glitter, laughter, and the haze of way too many drinks. Winter break has finally started, and my friends—Janelle, Isabella, and Séraphine—and I have decided that tonight is all about celebrating our freedom. Maybe we’re overdoing it, but who cares? We’re young, we’re back from school, and we deserve this.

I lean into the music, my head spinning in the best way. “We’re out of money,” I realize, looking down at my half-empty drink, frowning. Not a cent of parental allowance had dropped in any of our accounts yet. My own savings were being bled dry by all this fun, and, seriously, what’s the point of being a rich kid in Monaco if I can’t order bottles of Ace of Spades?

Séraphine slings an arm around me, her face flushed and eyes glassy as she shouts, “We should just try to flirt with some guys! Get ourselves a table!”

Janelle shakes her head, looking a little worse for wear, her lids drooping as she slurs, “No… Alain will kill me if he finds out I pulled something like that again…”

As they debate, an idea pops into my head, striking like a flash of drunken genius. I grin, barely able to focus, but sure of one thing: I have Lewis’s number. Lewis, my neighbor and friend of my dad, but also ridiculously rich, famous, and possibly my ticket to a few more rounds. So what if it’s 2 a.m., right?

“I’ve got it, guys. I know someone,” I announce proudly, though the words come out like a tangled mess.

Séraphine squints at me, laughing. “You’re drunk, Y/N. You don’t know anyone.”

“Oh, yeah?” I pull out my phone, holding it up triumphantly as I squint at the screen, fingers fumbling over the contacts. “There it is.” I hit the call button, holding the phone to my ear, my friends watching me with barely-contained curiosity.

The call rings a few times, and just as I’m about to give up, a low, groggy voice answers.

“Hello?”

The confidence I had fizzles, but I swallow my nerves. “Lewis?” I slur, hearing my voice in that weirdly bold way only a couple of drinks can make possible.

There’s a pause. “Y/N?” He sounds confused, and I hear him shift like he’s sitting up.

“Yeah. Are you out?” I ask, the music blaring through the phone. I feel the eyes of my friends glued to me as they wait, wondering who I’m talking to.

“What? Where are you?” he asks, voice sharper now, more alert.

“I’m at MK,” I say loudly over the noise, feeling smug.

There’s another pause, and then he says, almost to himself, “MK? You’re not even old enough to be there… And, wait… are you drunk? It’s 2 a.m.—”

I cut him off, a playful edge to my tone. “I was just calling to see if you wanted to come and get us more drinks,” I say, though the words tumble out in a barely coherent mix of slurs and giggles.

There’s a long, exasperated silence on the other end.

“Hello?” I ask, annoyed he’s taking so long to answer.

His sigh is audible over the phone. “Do you… need me to pick you up?” he asks, his voice lined with something that sounds like he’s already resigning himself to it.

“No! I don’t,” I reply with confusion. “You’re so boring,” I add before hanging up. My friends laugh, and we go back to dancing, somehow managing to snag a few more drinks from guys around us.

It’s 3:00 a.m. by the time I manage to stumble my way back to my parents’ penthouse, swaying down the hallway in my heels. My purse feels like a black hole as I dig through it, searching for my keys. They have to be in here somewhere, right?

But after minutes of searching, I realize they’re not. “Shit,” I mutter, slumping against the wall, the reality sinking in. I don’t want to wake up my parents like this—tipsy, disheveled, and very obviously not sober.

I slide down to the floor, feeling my frustration tip dangerously toward tears. I’m too drunk for this. I stare at my phone, desperate for some kind of solution, and in my daze, I remember… Lewis. Again, I don’t recall that I just called him an hour ago, and with no other option, I hit his number.

After a few rings, his tired voice picks up. “Yes?” he says, clearly woken up again.

“Lewis?” My voice breaks a little, the earlier playfulness gone.

He sounds a little more awake, sensing something’s off. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t get into my house.” My voice trembles with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Wait… are you outside right now?” he asks, the tone of his voice shifting instantly, more alert.

“Yeah… I don’t have a key,” I mumble.

He sighs deeply, and I hear him rustling, like he’s getting up. “Okay… give me a minute.” He hangs up, and I wait in the dimly lit hallway, feeling stupid but relieved.

A few minutes later, the door down the hall opens, and there he is, looking tired, standing there in nothing but sweatpants. Even through my drunken haze, I can’t help but notice how he looks, the way his gaze meets mine across the hall, his face softening when he sees me.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low, quiet command. The authority in his voice stirs something in me as I pull myself up, stumbling toward him, heels clicking with each unsteady step. His eyes drop to what I’m wearing—a short dress, tight enough to get the attention of every guy at MK tonight—and he looks away, maybe to save me from feeling self-conscious. Or maybe to save himself.

“Come in,” he murmurs, stepping back and letting me walk inside. His place feels dim, warm, quiet—a stark contrast to the loud, chaotic energy I’d just left. The moment I step in, I sway, and his hand catches my arm, steadying me.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, his voice edged with concern as he leads me toward the living room. “Why did you drink so much?”

I flop onto his couch, letting out a lazy laugh as I lean back. “I don’t know,” I reply, slurring, barely caring how much of a mess I must look to him right now.

He disappears for a second, returning with a glass of water, holding it out to me. “Drink that. You need it.”

I take a sip, and he watches, standing over me, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “Look… I don’t have a key to your parents’ place, so you’re kind of stuck for now. Do you have a friend nearby?”

I shake my head, setting the glass aside and sinking further back into the couch. “No… I don’t know.” My voice is soft, almost defeated.

He sighs, glancing at the clock. “It’s 3:17 in the morning…” he mutters, and I let out a giggle, finding it all absurdly funny.

He shakes his head, but there’s a small, reluctant smile on his face. “You’re a mess,” he says, voice teasing.

I sit up, pouting. “No…” I argue, slurring as I try to mimic his mock-scolding tone.

“Yes…” he says, meeting my gaze, and for a moment, his eyes linger on me, trailing down to my dress. His hand reaches up, almost instinctively, to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. I look at him, something bubbling up in me—a boldness from the alcohol, or maybe just the thrill of being near him like this. I reach out, letting my hand rest on his thigh, feeling the solid warmth of him.

He looks at my hand, then at me, his gaze suddenly intense. He reaches down, covering my hand with his, his grip firm as he lifts it off his leg. “No… no, Y/N. You need to sleep this off,” he murmurs, voice low but soft.

“Hm? No… I’m fine,” I insist, leaning closer, letting my eyes half-close as I give him what I hope is a sultry look.

He lets out a breath, amused but resolute. “Yeah… that’s definitely the alcohol talking.” He stands up, guiding me gently to follow him. “Come on. I’ve got a spare bedroom. You can sleep there, okay?”

I frown, feeling my hazy hopes sink, but I’m too tired and too out of it to argue. I stumble along behind him, my heels clicking down the hallway as he opens the door to a guest room. I step inside, feeling the plush carpet beneath my feet, a cozy contrast to the cold, hard floors of MK.

“Just get some sleep, alright?” he says, rubbing his eyes, clearly exhausted.

“Wait,” I call, almost whining, as he turns to leave. “Can you…” I pause, heart pounding, barely believing my own boldness as I turn around, showing him the back of my dress. “I can’t sleep in this…”

He sighs, and I can tell he’s fighting an internal battle. “Y/N…” he starts, his tone edged with caution, like he’s about to refuse. But then he relents, stepping forward. His hands come to rest on my hips, strong and steady, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric. I feel my breath catch as he pulls me closer, his fingers brushing against the small of my back.

For a moment, his hands linger, almost as if he’s hesitating, feeling the weight of the moment as much as I am. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raises one hand to the top of my zipper. His fingertips graze the bare skin at the base of my neck, and I can’t suppress the shiver that runs down my spine.

He inches the zipper down slowly, each pull of the zipper loud in the quiet of the room, his touch leaving a tingling trail down my back. I can feel the soft brush of his knuckles against my skin as the dress loosens, exposing more of my back, inch by inch. His breathing is steady, but there’s a tension there—a restraint that feels almost tangible.

The zipper finally reaches the base of my spine, and his fingers linger there, as if reluctant to break the contact. My skin feels electric, every nerve heightened, and for a moment, he doesn’t move, his breath warm against the back of my neck. It’s like he wants to say something, to break the charged silence between us, but he holds back.

He clears his throat softly, his voice a quiet murmur in my ear, almost a command. “There. Now… get some sleep.” His words are gentle but firm, like he’s trying to steady both himself and me. And then, just as slowly as he approached, he pulls away, letting his hands fall from my back, the absence of his touch leaving my skin cool and craving the warmth of his hands.

As he steps back, he meets my eyes briefly, a flicker of something unreadable passing between us. For a second, I think he might close the space between us again, say something, or do something that will change everything. But he only gives me a small, careful nod, a final reminder of his restraint, and turns toward the door.

“Now… sleep,” he says once more, his voice soft but unwavering. With one last look, he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

———————————————-

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works.

I hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

Please like and follow for more!

Хохо

Princess

[bunmurdock]

I need more pathetic whiny subby matt please please pleab pbealb-

woah, a rare sub!matt murdock bunny brain! :O

it’s been hours since you tied sub!matt murdock up, his wrists bound above his head, thick ropes digging into his forearms, his muscles flexing with every twist and pull. his chest is heaving, slick with sweat, each breath ragged and shallow as he tries to keep himself under control. you’ve kept him on edge for so long that his thighs are trembling, the tension in his body so tight it feels like he might snap. he’s seated in a sturdy chair, legs spread wide because you told him to keep them that way, cock flushed tall and proud. it’s hard—impossibly hard—that you can see it pulsing against the wooden seat, precum flowing from his slit down to halfway across his underside.

he listens for your instruction, even if it’s killing him.

you’re standing close enough that he can feel the heat of your body, but not close enough to give him any relief. “please,” he groans, his voice raw and hoarse. he strains against the ropes, shoulders rolling as he tries to shift closer, but it’s no use. “i can’t—god, please.” every word is drenched in desperation, and his head falls forward, sweat-soaked hair sticking to his forehead. his jaw clenches, muscles flexing beneath flushed skin as he fights to hold himself together, every inch of him aching for your touch.

you run a single fingertip down his chest, just barely grazing his skin and scars, and he shudders so hard it rattles the chair. “been good,” he grits out, voice cracking. “did everything you said.” his biceps strain against the bindings, every muscle in his body taut, veins standing out along his arms as he tries and fails to move. “i—i love you,” he whispers—though it’s an odd thing to say in this moment, but so very matt—and there’s a rough, needy edge to his words that makes it clear he’s at his limit.

when you step closer, just a hair, his thighs tense, and he sucks in a breath, his whole body leaning toward you as much as the restraints allow. you brush your lips against his jaw, feeling the heat radiating off him, and he groans—a low, wrecked sound that comes from deep in his chest. “need to feel you,” he whispers, the words broken and desperate. “can’t—can’t take it anymore.”

you press your palm flat against his broad, gleaming chest, tracing over his taut nipples, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your hand, and he arches into the touch. his head automatically tips back, exposing the line of his throat. you trail your fingers down to the ropes binding his wrists, and for a moment, his breath catches—hope, raw and visible in every line of his body. but when you don’t untie him, when you just watch him, he lets out a shaky, whimpering breath.

“anything you want,” he promises, voice low and desperate, his muscles flexing once more as he strains against the ropes.

you reach down and level with his cock, blowing air onto it and watching it twitch. immediately, he starts to buck against the constraints. you laugh, and give the tip a teasing kiss. before you know it, he’s seizing up and cumming—leg muscles tensing and gorgeous ropes of white shooting thick and strong onto his tummy >:D

masterlist

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Can you write “you look so pretty on your knees” and “play with me” with tony stark?

"On your knees, now!"

PAIRING || Boyfriend! Tony Stark x Girlfriend! Female! Reader

WORDCOUNT || 0.8K

SUMMARY || Teasing your boyfriend has always been something you thoroughly enjoy, but your favorite pastime is to do it while he’s in a meeting, such as a debriefing after a mission. Tony not-so-secretly loves your teasing, though he sometimes wishes you’d time it better, as you often do it when he least expects it.

RATING || Mature

TAGS || (Former) Sugar Daddy AU, established relationship, teasing, daddy kink, dirty talk, referenced blowjob, implied smut, aftercare.

A/N || Ooooooh Nonnie, thank you for your fantastic request! It's been sitting in my inbox for a while now, but I'm happy to say I finally had the time to finish it for you, so I hope you'l enjoy it. Thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading and drooling with me, it's been an honor to share this with you! 🤍

Photo: @ccbsrmsf1 || All the other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark || Summer of Drabbles

Teasing your boyfriend has always been something you thoroughly enjoy, but your favorite pastime is to do it while he’s in a meeting, such as a debriefing after a mission. From sending photos of you wearing clothing that leaves very little to the imagination to tell him all your plans for him in intimate details, you’ve done it all more than once. Tony not-so-secretly loves your teasing, though he sometimes wishes you’d time it better, as you often do it when he least expects it.

Now, after you’ve given your black cat, Moon, a much-needed bath after he knocked over your flour jar in the kitchen - turning him practically white as a ghost - you’re settled on the couch with a blanket and the TV going when the idea of teasing him again pops into your head. You immediately grab your phone before quickly opening the chat with your boyfriend; your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as a wave of excitement makes your stomach somersault.

Sugar - I’ve been a naughty girl, Daddy…

As Tony sees the message on the screen, he grabs his phone from the table to ensure it says what he thinks it does. His cheeks get a dark red tint, and his pants become tight. He tries his hardest to keep his mind on what Steve is saying as they’re debriefing the mission they came back from yesterday, but it’s starting to become impossible when all he can think about is you being the naughty girl he knows you can be.

Tony - I know you’ve been a naughty girl for me, Sugar. How about you show me exactly how much of a bad girl you’ve been when I return from my meeting?

As always, Tony is a man of his word, and as soon as he’s home, you obediently follow him to his office. He grabs your hand as the door falls shut behind you, pulling you towards the chair behind the large wooden desk. Once Tony is seated, he spreads his legs slightly, allowing you to stand between them as his fingers trail over the bare skin of your legs that emerges from your shorts.

“You know what I haven’t been able to stop thinking about?” Tony asks, his eyes looking at you with a softness you’ve come to love from him. The corners of his mouth slightly curl up as he thinks about his next words, while curiosity piques within you.

“I’ve been constantly thinking that you look so pretty on your knees. The way your eyes go glassy when you get even remotely close to my thick, long, throbbing, and leaking cock, your tongue already out of your mouth as you’re eagerly waiting for a taste,” he says, a groan audible as he readjusts himself in his jeans. A soft whimper leaves your lips as his nimble digits gently dig into the plush flesh of your thigh, a smirk now lying on your boyfriend's lips.

“I want you on your knees, now.” The way he says the words, with an authority that has you moaning softly as your panties are slowly being ruined, makes you instantly obey him as you step back to kneel on the soft carpet underneath his boots.

“Good girl.”

You smile at the praise he gives you, and you patiently wait for his following words. Before he says them, Tony lets his fingers glide over your cheek before tilting your head slightly, allowing him to make direct eye contact with you.

“Are you still okay with what we’re doing, Sugar?” he asks softly, the corners of his eyes slightly crinkling as he furrows his brows. Your heart swells with love as you show him a small smile and nod in response.

“I am, Daddy. I promise. I like it when you play with me like I’m nothing more than a fucktoy or a hole to use for your pleasure,” you tell him in a soft but confident voice, and he nods approvingly at your words. When he lets go of your face, it’s like his entire demeanor does a complete 180-degree turn, but in the best way possible. While he was horny before, he has turned feral now.

That evening, you start by giving Tony a blowjob he'll never forget, as he'll feel like his soul is being sucked out through his cock. Then Tony takes his time to ruin every last one of your holes in his office, leaving you barely able to walk before carrying you to the penthouse for a relaxing bath. As you’re soaking in the tub, you like to cuddle close to your boyfriend as he feeds you the most delicious berries and other fruits, his hands never leaving your skin for even a second.

“I love you, Sugar. Even if you’re a little tease now and again,” he says with a smile, and you smile sleepily before humming in response, sleep taking you under not long after.

[despairots]

DILUTE ME!

this is meant for older audiences, but if you are under the age of 18, i can not stop you from reading this.

story contains: light suggestive themes, yandere themes, ren/[REDACTED] should be a warning itself, mentions of murdering, etc. reader is a bit timid and shy when with [REDACTED] in this but they’re usually sultry and sweet.

context: yandere! reader gets over their sick and twisted ways of showing their love but finds it hard to keep it in once getting with their partner. gn! reader

you didn’t know what lend to this. you swore you got over the tendencies, the habit, the absolute anger you’d feel once you see another person that’s not you making a move on what’s supposed to be yours. why did he let this happen? why was this girl flirting with him infront of you?

your lips pulled itself into a tight line, your face pulling a look of absolute disgust, keeping the thought of bashing her head into the brick wall at bay, but how long could you keep it in until you just gave in and did every horrible thing possible to her?

god, how much longer will she try? actually, why hasn’t ren said anything yet? your eyes shifted from her figure to his, catching every detail of their face snd engraving it into memory. it didn’t matter how many times you do it, they look better every time you do.

your mouth went to open before it shut when she let out an obnoxious laugh. your eyebrow twitched, clutching onto your boyfriends hand even tighter, biting your tongue back. please, please, please, you thought you were better than this. unfortunately, you’ve went back to your default settings.

“leave them alone, you tramp.” you muttered under your breath, letting her only hear it (not knowing he picked it up aswell) before you scoffed at her and pulled ren away. mind was racing with different ways to dispose of her, as ren could only stare at you with puppy eyes.

back to your shared room, you stripped yourself out of your clothes, digging through his clothes and putting them on. any sort of reminder of them as you kept going back to the girl who kept flirting with them. who the hell did she think she was?

ren saw the way you glared at her, saw the way you bit your tongue back to snap at her when she got a little close, they loved it. now, watching you mentally mutter insults to yourself about that unknown whilst in their clothing, all he could think about was you.

how your scent would linger in their clothing, how you were so willingly to strip in front of him and wear their clothing. you looked so small in it, compared to him. ren watched you turn your back away from them, a slight twinge pulled at his chest. were you mind at him?

“are you mad at me, angel?” one of their hands lifted his oversized shirt on, trailing their fingers up and down your back, feeling your smooth skins and the way you shivered from his touch. “i—i’m not mad at you.” the way you ended your sentence with venom made him smile a bit.

ren trailed their fingers over to your stomach until wrapping his arm around it and pulling you back to his chest, hearing you yelp at the sudden pull. from this position, ren could see the growing blush from your cheeks as you tried hiding it in your arm and pillow.

“did… did you think she was cute?” their real name slipped from your tongue, and he couldn’t help but pull a face of disgust when you asked. she couldn’t compete to you in any other way. ren kept a note in disposing her later once you fell asleep, they didn’t want you to think he was attracted to her.

ren placed small kisses onto the back of your neck, hearing you breathe softly each time he made in contact with your skin, “you’re all i want.” their voice was muffled against the crook of your neck, as you flipped around and placed a gentle hand on his cheeks, a soft smile on your face.

“go to sleep, okay? i promise to give you treat later. remember? poorly behaved dogs get not treat.” fuck, that was hot. once you say that, there was no turning back, the both of you would last hours. ren’s eyes widened until their lips pulled into a light smirk, his hand going to the back of your head and pulling you into a deep kiss.

your hand slid down to his chest, finding itself slipping underneath their clothing and resting it there. a light moan escaped your mouth when ren took control, his tongue slipped into your mouth, marking every inch of it until they pulled away, a string of saliva a reminder.

ren went back to placing kisses on your neck, sometimes nipping at it if he felt a like a tease, grinning whenever you would release a small whine. your hands played with his hair, waiting until he fell asleep to execute your plan. a devious smile pulled onto your lips, hearing the breathes of the one you love.

you pulled away lightly, making sure you didn’t wake them up as you placed a pillow to be a substitute for you until you came back. this will be the only time you’ll resort back to your old ways, dressing in all back, grabbing a pair of latex gloves and a box cutter. as much as you wanted to do worse, this will have to do.

finding her wasn’t hard to do, she was walking around clearly under the influence, and you couldn’t help but snort at how stupid of a bimbo she was. you dragged her back to a secluded spot, keeping a hand over her mouth as you tossed her to the ground and went to stab the box cutter deep into the side of her neck.

you stayed in that position, maybe pushing it into her neck deeper for safety measures (when really you just wanted to get in more stabs). you pushed her to the side, putting the box cutter into your pocket and pulling the black mouth mask down, a judging look on your face.

disposing her body was easy, killing her was easy too— everything was easy actually. you didn’t need to do anything extreme to get rid of her. you quietly sneak back inside your home, stretching your limbs and taking the gloves off. you opted to throw the box cutter away but decided to keep it as a reminder that you had killed somebody again.

a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back to something as a half scream half yelp was muffled when a hand came to your mouth. you thrusted around… until a familiar voice whispered into your ear, “now where were you, angel? did’ya really leave me to solve my own problem?” you knew what he meant by problem but that didn’t bother you when you remembered you were covered in blood.

“ren— let me go—“ their hold against you tightened, they took a piece of your ear into his mouth and nibbled on it, “so, how’d you kill her? stab her? strangled her? come on— you could’ve left her to me!” the way he said it sent a chilling shiver down your spine; what the hell did they mean?

he turned you around, wiping off some excess blood on your cheek with a lovesick smile. god, you looked so good like this. “what are you talking about?” you whispered, ren’s lips inches away from yours as their eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes.

“y’know what i’m talking about.”

your eyebrows were pulled into a frown, why isn’t he finding this weird? “you’re not disgusted by me?” ren let out a sigh, his next words being muffled by your lips, “i can never be disgusted by you.” you pulled away slightly, lips parted and pupils blown out, eyes flickering from their lips to their eyes nervously.

“but i killed someone…”

“and i enjoyed every minute of it.” the way ren said it made butterflies flutter in your chest, but yet you still felt disgusted by yourself. you promised you wouldn’t resort back to your old ways, yet you couldn’t help yourself. the way she decided to flirt with him in front of you, made you want to feel the same feeling you’d get whenever someone decided to get too cozy with something that was yours.

ren noticed the lack of words, bringing you into a comforting kiss, feeling you relax in their hold as you slowly kissed back. knowing the extremes you’d take for him, he couldn’t help but feel flattered that you’ll do that for him.

“come on, how ‘bout that treat i’m supposed to be getting?” ren shoved the black sweater off you, lips still interlocked as they placed their phone on the kitchen counter,

… as photos of you stalking and killing the women appeared on his phone.