#but losing those points was rough i think

[yandere-fics]

♡ Sophie's Wife Tries To Kill Her ♡

(I was sitting here at literally midnight and thinking of things apocalypse Sophie could do, just to emphasize, apocalypse Sophie is much rougher than normal Sophie cause she doesn't know how to be affectionate properly and it would probably take a decade of the cult being stable and secure for her to be able to soften up towards her darling. Normal Sophie would beat the shit out of this Sophie version. Anyways let me know what you think of these darker fics.)

You'd been thinking about it for a very long time, almost since you were first hogtied and brought to the cult when they were on one of their hunting trips. The lieutenant of the group liked you enough that when she had your group killed, she had her people drag you back to the group as her new bedmate while she and the others stayed behind to go through your groups things. As a bedmate she was rough with you, her hands were so harsh you found it difficult to find any pleasure with her and on top of her having killed your whole group, you had a hard time adjusting to your new life without your mind completely fracturing. You tried to run, several times but it was clear she had grown fond of you, she wasn't letting you go any time soon. She did make you her wife after a couple attempts, held you down as she forced the ring on your finger and told you that she'd cut your fucking legs off if you didn't walk down the aisle like a good girl. You let her think she'd broken you after that. Your kidnapper was so happy that day, you didn't know she could smile because she was such a silent sadistic maniac. You let her have her domestic bliss until you were sure you were ready. Poison was out of the question, she knew poisons, part of all those expeditions was figuring out which herbs were edible for the group, she'd often shove them in the mouths of people who needed to be punished, let fate decide if they got to live or die she said. And pure force wasn't going to cut it either, you knew from trying to struggle against her as she shoved your head into the pillow at nights, makeshift strap going in and out over and over again. You'd need to be sneaky if you wanted your revenge.

Revenge made you foolish though, too quick. You couldn't get the faces of the people you held dear out of your head, it played in your mind over and over again until you reached a breaking point where you had to act. You'd lose it if you didn't act soon. It was a mistake.

"My doll is so ungrateful, I loved you and this is what I get in return?" It felt funny to you that she'd say she loved you as her hands wrapped around your throat. You tried to catch her off guard, to stab her right after you'd just got done letting her do her thing for that night but she'd flung the knife away from you and straddled you, her hands starting to strangle you. You might have laughed even if she wasn't cutting off your air supply slowly. "I'm more than willing to die with my wife, if you want me dead, but you'll have to come with me. Is that what my stupid fucking dolly wants?"

You thought you were ready to go down with her but as you felt close to passing out you realized you weren't ready yet, shaking your head back and forth as tears started streaming down your face. She finally let go as you grasped for air.

"Good choice, dolly." You shivered as she laid down on the bed, pulling you close to cuddle for the night with a satisfied smile on her face. You were a monsters plaything.

[muirneach]

we were all saying if stef and grisha lose in the same round then grigors rank is secure but the live rankings are very much displaying him at 11 and stef at 10. so why is that. alsoooo in the rankings hubi is likely gonna be taking andrey’s number six spot 👀

[stinkbeck]

nothing more relaxing than like acting out a play in my room alone

[yelhsaa-a]

Flashing them mid argument

Caleb

“You’re reckless,” he snaps, pacing, muscle flexing in his jaw. “You don’t think, and I’m left picking up the damn—"

You yank your shirt up. No bra. Nipples tight, tits bouncing slightly from the motion.

He stops mid-sentence. Blinks. Hard.

“…The fuck are you doing?”

You just shrug. Innocent. Quiet.

His eyes darken, and in two steps, he’s on you—hand gripping your throat lightly, eyes burning.

“You think that’s funny? Flashing me mid-fight?” he growls, dragging you back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. “You think I won’t fuck you right here, bare, and cum all over those tits like the filthy girl you’re acting like?”

He doesn’t wait for permission. Pulls his cock free and shoves into you raw, the stretch making you cry out as he fucks you like the fight never happened—like he’s going to teach your body a lesson you’ll never forget.

Rafayel

“You always do this—deflect with sex. I’m not stupid, sweetheart, and I’m not in the mood—”

You tug your top down in one smooth move. Nipples bare. Chest rising.

He stares.

“...You’re evil.”

And then he moves—pulls you into the wall, kisses you like he’s angry, and drops to his knees.

“Guess I’ll put that mouth of yours to better use,” he growls, unzipping and tapping his cock against your lips. “Open up, since you’re so eager to shut me up.”

You moan around him, drooling as he fucks your mouth deep, barely giving you a second to breathe.

“You started this,” he pants. “You end it. With cum down your throat.”

Sylus

“You think just because you’re hot you can flash your tits and win every fight—”

You do it. Shirt up. Full view. A deliberate, slow pull.

He stops cold.

Smirks.

“Oh, fuck, baby… you’re done for.”

He’s unzipping while you’re still smiling—shoving you against the wall, one hand twisting in your hair, the other pushing his cock against your entrance.

“No teasing now,” he rasps. “You wanted attention, you’re getting it. And I’m not stopping ‘til I cum so deep inside you, you feel me for days.”

And he means it. He fucks you rough, hand on your throat, slapping your ass, ruining your body like he’s punishing you for being so fucking sexy.

Zayne

“This isn’t healthy communication,” he’s saying, arms crossed, trying to reason with you.

You lift your shirt.

He blinks. Swears under his breath.

Looks away. Looks back.

“…You little brat,” he murmurs.

He hauls you onto the couch, lays you down, and pulls your shorts off so fast they rip.

“You know I can’t resist you when you do that.”

He starts slow—but the second he’s inside you and you moan his name like you need it, all that calm control? Gone. He fucks you into the cushions, whispering, “Still think flashing me mid-fight’s a good idea?”

You nod, brainless.

“Thought so.”

Xavier

You’re losing the argument. Fast. His voice is cold, flat, and every point he makes is too fucking logical.

So you throw your shirt up. Just like that.

He freezes. Blinks. Takes a long breath.

“...Is this your strategy now?”

You nod. Bite your lip.

He steps forward, unbuttons your pants without a word, and slides his hand between your legs.

“You’re soaked,” he mutters. “You like being punished for being difficult.”

He lifts you onto the table, pushes in without prep, without pause, and fucks you silently—deep and punishing, slow enough to be cruel.

No teasing. Just correction. Ownership.

“You win,” you whisper breathlessly.

“No,” he growls, “I own you.”

[madamechrissy]

Mobster Toji headcanons

Pairings- Mafia Toji x shot girl reader

mdni- explicit- oral (f recieving) drug use, dirty talk, choking, fingering, angsty and smutty- part of my Mafia AU- Toji is from Pour it Up (Mob Kuna) and Losing Control Now (Mob Toru) gonna be a fic soonnn, here is some of the vibes/points of ittt

comment to get tagged <3

Mobster Toji who runs the most elite club with Sukuna, and runs the Gojo mafia, has it all in spades, and he knows it's the good life, two strippers on his lap, kissing and giggling as he inhales his blunt. Deep in his lungs, smoking it and then turning to kiss each girl. How could he really complain about a life like this?

Mobster Toji had it rough before, he had a gambling addiction, he got into some debt, he lost his love... it wasn't an easy life, but he got here, and now, he runs this city with the men there, going against the Zenin mob just really made Toji's fucking day. He's got either side of his neck getting kissed on by pretty girls as they pass the blunt around, the club music reverberating off the walls, making everything so heady.

Mobster Toji pauses then, as he sees you, you're a nervous little wreck, nibbling on your lips as you talk to the girls there, you're in some slinky little dress that shows off all of those thighs, and hugs your body just so, glinting silver. He can't take his eyes off you, when they hand you the shot tray, explaining this and that to you, while you clearly look out of place. He leans forward to get a better look, earning the pouts of the girls on his lap. 'sorry, give me a minute hmm?' they giggle when he pinches their asses, running off while he gets a look at you.

Mobster Toji watches you bend forward, smile on your pretty face while you serve up shots, getting tips slipped in your pretty lace garter, running back to the bar for more before the song was up. Sukuna comes out then, looking at Toji who's so clearly enamored, and chuckles at him. 'Like the new shot girl?' Toji damn near blushes, Toji Fushiguro, he's probably blushed once in his life, but he does, only earning Sukuna's throaty laughter, and Toji's scowl. 'I actually was thinking of having her dance, our main girl is late'

Mobster Toji can't take the thought of your pretty body naked, he should make some perverted comment, but he just stands there, as Sukuna pats his shoulder, walking over to you. He watches you giggle a bit, shifting your hips, but he doesn't know your heart is racing, as the tall, handsome owner of this club asks you to dance. 'Oh, Mr. Sukuna... I don't know...' you murmur, observing the empty pole, and then he catches your eye, the other owner you've heard about, Toji Fushiguro. 'You don't have to get undressed, just give em a show, my girl doesn't get naked anymore either' you smile as you think of just how smitten he seems. You can't imagine feeling like that, not after the number your ex did on you.

Mobster Toji gets to watch as you do just that, clueless about a pole, he walks up to the stage then. 'Never seen Toji so quiet, he good?' Satoru asks, waltzing in now, wearing shades in the dark club for truly no reason Toji thinks, other than to be a little shit. 'I'm fine' Toji huffs, but then your eyes catch his, while a man is slipping a tip to you under the strap of your dress, and he pauses once more. 'He's got the hots for the shot girl' Sukuna says with a smirk. 'oh, that's it, shit go on up there, tip her' Toji scowls now 'tip her!?' the two men shrug, giving Toji a shove, and then he's there

Mobster Toji enamors you, with his huge shoulders, this broad handsome face, but he's different than anyone you've seen, he's intense, his forest green eyes glinting, plush lips in a terse line, like he's angry. You flush a bit under the obvious stare, coming over to him then, on your hands and knees, making Toji think of insane things, like your mouth wrapping around his cock, him choking your delicate throat, stretching it out with his thickness. 'can I tell you a secret?' you asks him then, when he sits down, spreading his thighs wide, elbows on the stage. 'go ahead, doll' you giggle a bit then, leaning forward, hand brushing up his suit jacket. 'I have no clue what I'm doing'

Mobster Toji can't stop the grin on his face, when he starts to take out stacks of bills that are wrapped with a rubber band, enjoying the little flush you get as you let your straps drop, baring your shoulders. 'Fuck...' he mutters under his breath, planting the smallest kiss on your collarbone, the action shooting desire hot straight through you, your eyes meet then, when his phone rings, and he sighs. 'my kid... sorry doll, I'll see you later?' you nod curiously, smiling up at him, you've heard of him - big, domineering, crime lord Toji- but he actually seems rather sweet, tipping you far too much, brushing a thumb over your lower lip before he leaves.

Mobster Toji doesn't see Megumi as often as he should, he wants him far away from the Zenin, and he needs him hidden from this dark world, the Zenin want Toji back and they want his kid, the heir to the family, but Toji won't let it happen. You're on his mind even as he drives home, Megumi's calmly blinking up at him as he pats his head, and the nanny apologizes 'so sorry, Mr. Fushiguro, but I do need to head home for an emergency' he shakes his head then. 'No worries, go on... hey kid'

Mobster Toji tries to balance it all, being a single dad, running this club, running the Gojo mob, drowning his sorrows in the finest whiskey, weed, cocaine and of course women. But even the next day when he sees you, his heart falters again, when you shoot him this little smile. He figures it's gotta be how beautiful you are, right? He's been around a while, but you're something else- until you run right into him, eyes wide as you slam into his chest, and he pauses, his hands on your waist. 'What's wrong, doll?' you sigh, looking around then. 'my ex is here, and he... well he was a dick, I was trying to hide' Toji hums then, pulling you even closer. 'where is he?'

Mobster Toji smirks, his scar stretching at the corner of his lip when he spots your ex. 'He's staring at us, wanna give him a show?' you giggle breathless then, nodding, your ex had left you after fucking your 'best friend' and you can't help but feel the pettiness rise. 'How do we do that, Mr. Fushiguro?' he grips your ass then, making you gasp, thigh between yours, pressing you on it, bending so low, you inhale his cologne, taste the liquor on his breath - 'like this' he whispers, before his lips are on yours. Your ex watches with fury, everyone else with curiosity, but it's just the two of you then, as everything starts fading aside from his lips on yours, his big hands on your body.

Mobster Toji can't get enough of your kisses, of your little teases, the next few days he keeps stealing them, like some dumb high school boy, he turns down this woman and that woman, because all he can think about is you. You don't go further, though you're aching for him, this cute little sweet game between the two of you, but you soon find yourself sitting on his lap, right in the VIP room. This was a 'special request' from Mr. Fushiguro himself. Powder is sprinkled against your neck, as he laps up residue from your collarbone, moaning softly in your ear, making your mind run wild in a room full of powerful mobsters and beautiful women, but all you can think of is him, how he's not like anyone you've known.

Mobster Toji slips rough fingers under your skirt, pressing your already damp fabric against your engorged clit as he holds an entire conversation, with Gojo, Sukuna, Choso and Suguru and plenty of women all in that room, effortless, like he's not finger your slick pussy, slipping under your panties and watching you bite that lower lip. He leans up, whispering in your ear 'keep quiet, hmm? slutty pussy is loud isn't she?' you can't formulate a thought as he fingers your slick walls, his cock aching to break your sweet pussy as he feels it pulsing around him, barely holding back his moans.

Mobster Toji has your back against the door of his office that night, in his knees in front of you, before you can think his tongue is lapping a stripe up your slit hungrily, and your hands are in his inky black locks, crying out softly while he drinks your sweet pussy up. 'Mr. Fushi-' he laughs against your cunt, making your thighs tremble 'nah, doll, it's just Toji, when your pussy is on my face, fuck it's so yummy too' he drags your ass to his face, devouring your cunt like a starved man then, your head slams the door, while he laps up all your juices, taste buds rolling on your walls, pushing you over the edge until you're blinded, drooling from your mouth and your cunt he's working.

Mobster Toji damn near cums when you squirt for him, he's drinking up as much as he can, staring at your slick cunt in wonder, so pretty as you squeak nervously, he chuckles at just how cute you are. 'fuck that's sexy, you squirt?' you're blushing, stammering then, as a mobster, a criminal, Toji himself is coated in your glistening cum. 'I've never done it... n-never came except on my own' Toji blinks in confusion, laughing then, but you'r'e serious he realizes, quickly too, and he sighs, pressing a kiss on the hood of your clit, an arm around your hips. 'That ex so shitty?' you nod then, weakly, unable to function or think as he stands, lifting you up on his desk. 'time to change all of that, gonna have you squirting all over this fucking desk huh?'

Mobster Toji is irritated as he's interrupted, of course it's a dire issue, when wasn't it? He leaves you with a nasty, filthy open mouthed kiss, wishing he didn't have all these duties as it was, and now it's just growing a longer list. In the limo with Sukuna he can taste you on his tongue, and when he finally sees you next, so much changed, you're excited but you say his dark expression, his face so tense. How could he bring a sweet girl into his world?

Mobster Toji ignores you, like it never fucking happened, and you see him, girls on his lap in that damn room, so you make sure to 'accidentally' spill shots all down his Armani slacks, earning him standing and scowling at you. when he finally corners you later, a hand on your throat, he's squeezing your windpipe, leaning low. 'what's with that show, huh brat?' you glare up at him, even as his hand squeezes. 'what's with ignoring me after... that!?' Toji's jaw clenches. 'I don't want ya in this fuckin' life, doll, that's what.' Your hand slips down his shirt, his hard muscled body, while he still squeezes, only serving to make you wetter. 'you don't even know me Toji' he scoffs. 'and you don't wanna know me'

Mobster Toji releases your throat, watching you walk away, what do you know about his life - nothing. He can't drag you down, you're different, even as he turns girls down, as he strokes his cock thinking of you, and you give him that pretty little scowl. He knows you're mad, he sees you flirting, he sees you watching him, he hopes you hate him, it's easier that way, a mobster with a fucking kid and a million issues. But suddenly you are just gone for a week, then another, Toji begins to ask, and Sukuna frowns, shaking his head. 'she just never came back, even to get her check, I'm not sure... I figured you two had problems and-"

Mobster Toji feels his stomach turn, panicking now, looking your name up on socials, seeing no updates since the last day he saw you, and his eyes dart to Sukuna's. 'what's wrong, mad she left your dumbass?' Toji shakes his head, gulping now. 'something is wrong... no I need to fucking find her. Now.' You're not at the apartment that was on your employment, you're nowhere, even your landlord says they haven't seen you, when Toji breaks into your abandoned apartment, even your phone is right there, he sees it's long dead, but next to it is a note, that simply reads 'find me'.

Mobster Toji will find you, if it's the last thing he fucking does.

THIS took an ANGSTY turn my goodness- it will be a fic if you wanna get tagged drop a comment <3

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[tra1nchi]

I need more of dom!top!superhero reader with pathetic adorable sub!bottom!villain:((( just imagining sub!villain cvmming so quickly when reader gets rough with him ... after all, sub!villain is just a pathetic little loser. getting dumber and dumber with each time you pound into him, and his tears just won't stop! d'aww, he'd be frantically trying to wipe those tears away as your bigger body pounds him so hard poor baby's head hits the headboard with every thrust. reader knows he shouldn't do this— but despite that, the reader puts his hand behind's villains head so it doesn't hit the wall. and that action sends villain spiraling, orgasming past overstimulation again.. what's that? oh.. his cum is all watery :(

MINORS DNI!! top male reader,, Overstim,, pathetic subvillain,, bigger reader,,

"Please-! Mh! I'm sorry!" HIs begs were pitiful, sad really. His body arched so perfectly into yours like a needy slut, you didn't even have to thrust into him at this point. His hips eagerly moving back and forth on your dick, his hole practically swallowing your cock up like it was a lifeline.

He's sobbing by now, his body completely engulfed by your stronger, larger one. Why does he even try at this point? He should know deep down by the end of the day he'll be fucked into your bed like a cheap whore. His hands clenched tightly into the bedsheets which were basically ripped off from the edges from the undeniable power of your thrusts. Your balls slapping against his raw ass.

He was frantic as he tried to whipe the tears from his face, he was meant to be the big bad villian of the city!! But he was getting so purely dominated by cock.

"Fuck! Feels too..good! I can't think!" His whines echo through the room, He swears he could feel his intelligence dimming as he cums for the..5th..6th time? By now he's too dumb to remember all he knows is pleasure and cock, maybe he's addicted to it? Each hit to his prostate is adrenaline inducing, Each tear that leaves his eyes somehow turns him on even more.

The sex is wild, the bed creaking in what he could assume was close to breaking, His head hitting the bedframe by how much his body was being jolted but what surprised him was the feeling of your hands digging into his head, pulling his body down and away from the wood, your arms caging him in.

And fuck, if that didn't make him lose it, you were the hero. Someone who was meant to induce harm and subdue him but here you were protecting his stupid head during sex? He couldn't speak, couldn't even think as he cuts again just from the thought. His raw cock splurting out cum that wasn't even cum at this point. His cheeks flushed and his tongue lolled eagerly out of his mouth.

Even as he came you kept going, he felt so fucking full just from your cum. His body warm from being caged fully under your bodyweight and he couldn't deny how much he fucking loved it. He was right where he belonged, not as a super villian but as your dumb, crying toy.

[s0dium]

THAT'S A RED FLAG BABY

JJK MEN AND RED FLAGS

A/n: Yessirrrr MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Synopsis: Jujutsu men and their red flag in a relationship or generally and how it shows through when they fuck

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Yuuta Okkatsu, Sukuna Ryomen, Choso

Warnings: Emotional abuse, narcissism, controlling behavior, dub-con, semi-public sex, spitting, fingering, rough sex, male masturbation, degrading, praise, teasing

~

Gojo Satoru- Narcissist  

Since he was a kid, Gojo has been praised and called many things

The honored one, the strongest, gifted and so on

But what people don't see is behind those beautiful sapphire eyes, is a goddamn narcissist through and through

He thinks, no he knows that he is the best, best at everything

This includes what goes on in bed.

And its not only that, the white-haired fox only cares about himself too in the sheets, abusing his unnatural stamina and using you like a cock sleeve for his own taste

At least he can be nice about it sometimes

Gojo is relentless. Its almost like your his personal cock sleeve, his dick shaping your insides and abusing your cervix despite your choked sobs and whines for him to stop, to simply slow down. He holds the back of your head with his hand, allowing you to look down at the way you two are connected; how he retracts his hips until his tip barely pokes out, admiring the slick coating his shaft before slamming back into you again.

"Ahhh~ P-please Satoru please...."

Gojo rolls his eyes and scoffs. Why were the people that surrounded him always so weak? Even you. It's a good thing you feel like heaven he could almost forgive you.

Tears stream down your face. Every time the tip of his dick rams against your cervix a powerful feeling mixed with pain and pleasure that surges through your body making you tremble and shake. You're losing your mind. Everything is so good, and, God, you can't ignore how handsome Gojo looks right now. His white hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, and the muscles of his toned abdomen are flexing and unflexing. He is gorgeous, and, boy, he knows it. Even the way your pussy squeezes and spasms around his dick sends more bolts of electric pleasure to dance through your skim.

"Shhhh, just take it 'kay? You're doing so good for me baby." Gojo coos.

Geto Suguru -Controlling

It starts off small, a comment here and there on your choice of friends, a small criticism on where you were going to spend the evening because wouldn't you have much more fun spending it with him?

Then he's starting to pick out outfits for you. Modest but pretty ones for outside but short skimpy clothes for when you're only with him. It even gets to the point where he is controlling your finances, making you only use his credit card, and its not about the money, you can use as much as you want for all he cares. It's about the control, you being helplessly reliant on him.

And Geto has such an easy time getting away with his controlling tendencies, showering you in praises and sweet nothings about how he just wants to protect you. And the way his violet eyes gleam at you, you almost always believe him.

Don't for a second think that he's insecure because it's far from it. The raven-haired man just wants to have you all to himself, he just wants to protect you from the cruel cruel world out there.

"Didn't I tell you to ask me first if you are going to wear an outfit like that?" Geto whispers in your ear but you can barely focus on his words. The curl of his fingers inside you is just too numbing; the way it hits, prods, and massages a spot deep inside your walls that you can only dream about reaching on your own. Geto's fingers are so thick too, almost filling you up as deliciously as his dick does. Almost. "Mmm- I- I, I didn't-" You gasp for air and try to bury your face into your hands. He currently has you against a wall of some bathroom stall but that fact seemed all but lost to you right now. The pleasure was building in your core and fast. Your legs were starting to shake and a numbing electric feeling had taken course throughout your body. You didn't have to open your eyes to know that Geto was smirking.

Suddenly, Goto curls his fingers in a way that deeply presses your g-spot and the dam of pleasure that had built inside you breaks. Your jaw goes slack and your whole body trembles with electricity.

"Didn't expect for you to crack so easily" he chuckles against your ear, and you collapse into his chest. Yuta Okkatsu- Too obsessed

You would think this is a good thing right? You could never love someone too much, but it was different with Yuuta

Sure you had a crush on him, sure you touched yourself to him plenty of times (which Yuuta knew of very well) so the feelings weren't all that unreciprocated

But theres a line, there's a line that Yuta always seems to cross

From taking pictures of you to texting you constantly, christ you even found your panties in his drawer, yuta love was overwhelming.

Yuuta knows that he should wake you up, but he cant bring himself too right now. You just look so beautiful, so perfect under the soft glow of the night sky. Also, he just feels so good right now, Yuuta can barely think so much as speak. "Mmmm-mmm" he whimpers against the pillow, slowly grinding his clothed erection against your bare leg. How would you react if you knew your boyfriend was humping you while you sleep? Would you push him away? No no you're too kind for that, you would probably help him, probably pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings until he finished. Yes, if he knew for a fact that you'd help him when you wake up, what's stopping you from helping you now? Careful not to wake you up, he picks up your hand. It's so small compared to his but wraps so well around his throbbing member. He glides your thumb across his red tip to collect the precum before slowly sliding your hand up and down. The pleasure is immediate. It makes him bury his face into your neck to to press sloppy, wet, hot, and bitten kisses along your skin.

Sukuna Ryomen- Sadist

Where to start with Sukuna. Sukuna is the red flag.

Actually, even that is a complete understatement. Sukuna is straight-up cruel, rather he is a sadist through and through.

Manipulation, degrading, humiliation....although he wouldn't physically abuse you, with emotional abuse he won't hesitate.

You expect compassion, sympathy, and kindness from him? Fat chance. It is hard to see Sukuna being in any relationship at all.

Sukuna certainly doesn't love you, but he sure does love the sex though

Like any good sadist, his sexual pleasure derives from your physical or emotional suffering.

"Aw look at you, fucked you dumb did I?" Sukuna chuckles. A tattooed hand snakes between to your cunt, lightly rubbing your clit before delivering a sharp slap to the nerve.

Your eyes widen and your hips instantly buck up, unintentionally sending his dick deeper into you. The position he has you in is brutal. Both of your legs are thrown over Sukuna's shoulders and pressed against your chest, effectively folding you in half. "Open ya mouth" He orders, but you are too lost in the pleasure that is blooming in your stomach, the pleasure that is making your cunt flutter and squeeze desperately around his fat cock. "I said open." Sukuna delivers a particularly harsh thrust before stilling inside you; keeping the tip of his dick smushed against your cervix. The sudden movement snaps you out of your haze and you obediently widen your mouth letting your tongue hang out. Sukuna lets a glob of spit fall from his lips onto your awaiting tongue. You don't need to be told to swallow, you do so on habit, giving him a soft smile as you do so.

"Fuck, ya so perfect, such a good girl."

Choso- Jealous 

Choso is the type of man who keeps to himself. The type of man to blend in a group or fade into the background.

But that doesn't mean he notices things. In fact, he notices things a bit too well.

Was that your coworker who touched your shoulder? You say that he is just a friend but who should a friend be able to touch you so easily?

He won't hesitate to bring up what he notices either, he says he's not accusing you of anything, that he trusts you, but he totally is.

He hates it when people get to close to his brothers so it posits that he loathes it when it comes to his lover.

How did you get here? How did an argument turn into this?

You want to scream, you want to thrash and tell Choso that he's got it all wrong, that you didn't mean to see your guy friend when you went out to have lunch. It was just a harmless bump-in that turned into a long conversation. Thats it. But the feeling of Choso's dick filling you up, his harsh thrusts and the fucking delicious friction of the drag, Jesus, it's just- it's just so good your mind that your mind is a white sheet.

You are on all fours but you don't know how much longer you can keep the position up. Not with the way he's ramming your pussy from behind.

“You are mine," he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal is brutal. "Mine," he swears, and he pulls you up so your back is pressed against him and you are upright. Choso doesn’t slow his movement though, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing up and down from the harshness of it all.

“You wanna cum? Good, cum."

[sttoru]

[ 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 ]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the king of curses cannot fight off his primal urges and thus you suffer the consequences.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, angst (w/ comfort), p.orn with mostly plot. mäting press. choking. rough like.. condescendingly rough. objectification. toxic relationship? yes. small hint of creampiē. double cawks. reader gets called ‘slut, girl, woman’ wc: 3.9k

“look at that slutty cunt takin’ my cock. think i wanna try fitting both at once in that lil’ hole. keh,” sukuna grunts as he looks down at you from above. your legs are burning from being folded in half—matter of fact—your entire body is aching.

any normal person would call out their safeword in a situation like this. you’re overwhelmed to the point that your brain doesn’t know what to do. you’re experiencing euphoria, yet feel like your doom is right around the corner.

you’re playing with fire whenever you’re intimate with the king of curses.

it’s too addictive to stop. being his favorite concubine has given you enough motivation to push through any difficulties. any discomfort your body feels, is automatically discarded and replaced with drowning pleasure. it’s like sukuna has put a spell on you; one that’s unbreakable.

“fffnghh—my lord,” you gasp for air as one of his big hands wrap tightly around your throat. your airway is blocked, nearly crushed by sukuna’s immense force. you get a flashback to the last time he’s choked you, how sukuna nearly lost control of his own strength.

your eyes are watery as your insides follow each thrust. back and forth, in and out. it is a simple rhythm, but you cannot get enough. the harsh and sticky echoes of skin slapping against skin are nearly ear deafening. his heavy balls bounce against the plush flesh of your ass with every move, ready to unload everything they’ve stored.

“shut up,” sukuna spits, looking down at you like you’re but a mere insect. perhaps you were exactly that to him in the heat of the moment. his red eyes show that he’s losing himself. that cruel yet greedy look only intensifies with the second, “you only speak when y’re spoken to—or did y’ forget your damn place?”

you swallow your words and resort to simple moaning after you apologise, “i’m sorry, m’lord.” your blurry vision creates a trippy illusion, giving sukuna eight arms and eyes. not only are you seeing double, the feeling of ecstasy is twice as strong. you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside.

you can’t speak about it. you’re not allowed to open your mouth unless it’s to moan or breathe. perhaps even the latter is too much to ask. your fingers shake as they wrap around sukuna’s wrist. you try to tug at the hand that is wrapped around your throat, but your strength is gone.

your body is shaking violently with each thrust. you can’t keep up with anything that’s happening. you’re unable to process the feeling of sukuna’s second cock trying to prod its way into your cunt as well. you’re going to break — he’s going to break you.

you want to speak up and tell him you can’t take both in the same hole at once. it’s an impossible task; one can’t even fit that easily. he’s girthy and got an immense length, an inhuman one you’ve never seen before. you swear you can feel him in your tummy. the tip feeling like it's nestled right underneath your belly button.

sukuna scoffs as you tighten up around his lower cock. you’re weak; a weak human who he can’t seem to get out of his mind. he wants to exploit that obedience of yours today—to ruin you mentally and physically.

he can’t ignore those urges to ruin that what causes him weakness. he wishes to regain the power over himself again. that can only be done by consuming you, removing you from existence.

“i can’t fuckin’ stand you,” sukuna growls, his eyes darkening beyond imagination, “y’re always in the way.” you’re scared of the king of curses, which rarely happens. the last time you were afraid of his monstrous aura was during your first encounter in the woods. his manly hand squeezes your throat until you’re genuinely struggling to breathe.

there’s an unmistakable sense of danger boiling in your guts. this is the real nature of the curse named ryomen sukuna. the man above you, who’s drilling his cock into you while you’re suffering, is the real deal.

the true face of the man you thought you knew.

“i’m gonna get rid of you, y’hear? after this, y’re nothing,” sukuna pants, sweat droplets falling onto your cheeks from above. he looks like he’s internally fighting with himself. the expression on his face tells you enough. you want to reach a hand out towards his cheek and hold it.

he looks beautiful, even when he spews such serious threats at you. your cunt is burning and holding tightly onto his cock, even when you realise it may break you.

you’ve stayed for so long with him, even when you know you’ll one day die at his side or by his hands.

locks of his pink hair stick to his forehead. sweat rolls down those black tattoos. all four red eyes are burning with a carnal desire to claim you as his property—to destroy you like his property. as is his right. that’s the only way to satiate that overwhelming feeling inside of sukuna.

whenever you’re around him, he finds himself drawn by your presence. he wants you to stay by his side all day, and if you aren’t, it’s like gravity is pulling him towards you. sukuna despises it—he craves to possess you, yet also get rid of your entire being. that way he can return to his normal self. the monster he's known as.

“i’ll throw ya away—gonna get a new toy to spend more time with,” the king of curses digs his nails into the back of your knees. the tip of his upper cock glides back and forth over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until it’s burning. you’re losing yourself in both pleasure and pain.

the hurtful words don’t seem to affect you. you still look up at him like he’s your everything—like he’s the reason you exist. sukuna turns furious the moment he notices that his threats don’t seem to work. you’re impossible and he hates that which he cannot control.

he cuts off any air that may enter your lungs. your eyes widen and your fingers tug at his wrist so he’d let loose, but alas. you’re going to lose consciousness without a doubt. tears stream down your cheeks, though not because of the hopelessness you’re feeling.

“i do not need you anymore,” sukuna says gruffly, trying to convince himself of that statement as well. he never needed anyone else during his entire lifetime, so why would he need you? he can replace you with any another woman.

your body goes limp. sukuna’s voice is muffled as you enter a state of half consciousness. you’re at the bridge between life and death. your eyes catch a glimpse of the faint struggle in his eyes.

he looks like a monster through and through, visibly acting like one too. though you’re able to catch a glimpse of an underlying vulnerability. that part of him that always shows itself when you two are alone—making you feel special because you’re the only one allowed to witness it.

you crack a faint, weak smile. even if you perish right then and there, it’s going to be at the hands of the man you’ve learnt to love. the sorcerer who’s made you feel on top of the world, without him realising it. you’ll forever be thankful for the moments you’ve spent together.

you’ll never forget the times where sukuna has made you feel safe in those same arms that will now be your death.

a tear slides down your temple. you look sukuna in the eyes while you’re seconds away from meeting your end. you show no signs of struggle as he gives you your final command;

“die.”

you close your eyes. your fingers loosen their grip around sukuna’s wrist before you let your hand fall at your side. you’ve accepted your fate with a weary smile, honored to have sukuna be the last thing you see, “understood, my lord.”

you’ve lost feeling in all limbs and your eyelids droop. all you can do is await for death to come collect your soul. it’s dark and you can’t hear a thing anymore. you’re confused when the burning sensation in your lungs returns.

your eyes fly open the moment some oxygen is able to reach your airway again. the harsh fingers around your neck have disappeared, though not without leaving aching marks. you clutch your chest as it hurts to breathe after not being able to for the longest time.

you gasp and cough uncontrollably. you wince and blink the tears away from your eyes, refocusing your vision on the large stature detaching from your side. you’re bewildered to say the least—not realising the reason behind sukuna’s sudden change of heart. he’s sworn to get rid of you, didn’t he?

he told you to die and yet he let you live.

“fuck,” the king of curses groans after he snapped out of the dangerous state he was in. he’s panting snd staring at the hand that was once wrapped around your throat. he’s not looking at you at all.

you feel him pull out which makes you hiss. you sit up, the adrenaline helping your tired body move itself. sukuna is silent, with no emotions apparent on his face. however one thing you can conclude for sure is that he’s caught off guard by his own actions.

he can’t get it out of his head. the vision of you laying beneath him, accepting your doom as told. even on the brink of death, you oblige. you accept his every word. why? sukuna’s head is filled with unanswered questions.

you’re an enigma that he cannot solve.

“out of the way, girl,” sukuna easily shoves you to the side with one hand. he’s still not looking you in the eyes. he refuses to look in the eyes of the one woman whom he tried to kill. the sole woman who seems to accept him for who he is.

you’re the only one who’s able to understand him and yet he tried to get rid of you. perhaps he’s afraid of being understood and accepted. sukuna is fine on his own—there’s no need for anyone by his side.

you manage to get your breathing under control after a couple seconds. you’re still hyperventilating, but it’s getting better. your body shakes as you cover yourself with the sheets, your hair messily covering your vision. you reach a hand out to sukuna, curious about what’s gotten into him, “i’m, ngh- are you okay, m—”

“i said, get out,” the man raises his voice before harshly grabbing your wrist. sukuna pushes you towards the exit of his chambers. you stumble forward and manage to catch yourself by grabbing onto the nearest wall. everything is happening so fast.

you simply nod and grab your robes from the floor. you hurriedly cover yourself before stepping out of the room. you fall to your knees not two steps away into the hallway. your hand flies up to your neck, touching it as if making sure that you’re still alive.

you can’t believe sukuna spared you. if he changed his mind one second later than he originally had, you’d be a lost cause.

tears well up in your eyes as the gravity of the situation settles in. you may have accepted your fate in the heat of the moment, but now that it’s over, you’re left trembling on your own. you can’t shake off that intense look in sukuna’s eyes as he pounded you into the mattress.

he was hungry for your soul. to consume you and not leave any of your bones—to get rid of you so you’re out of his sight and mind.

you sniffle and can’t bring yourself to stand up. you’ve lost strength in your legs because the adrenaline levels in your body have dropped. you slowly crawl over the floor and hope that no one catches you in a pitiful state like this.

you manage to get a couple metres away, though soon find yourself staring at a pair of socks that come into view. you lift your head and the owner of the tabi eventually appears in sight.

“uraume,” your voice is hoarse. you make eye contact with sukuna’s personal chef as they stand before you, their expression unreadable.

the sigh they let out tells you that they’ve expected such an outcome since long ago. without a word, they reach a hand out and help you up.

. . .

it’s been a week since then. uraume has helped you recover from that unfortunate experience. the other concubines didn’t dare talk to you. they’ve noticed the change in sukuna’s behavior after that night he spent with you.

he’s gone on more rampages than he usually does. he’s been killing innocent servants who walked past him while on duty, and visiting nearby villages only to commit mass destruction. his emotions are uncontrollable at this point and no one has a clue on what to do.

the best option is to stay out of sukuna’s sight. and not to mess with you, just in case.

you’ve personally tried to approach him a couple times, but either chicken out or get totally ignored. you really want to talk it out, though it may seem impossible. you’ve evaded death once, you’re not sure if you can do that twice.

you’re currently sitting on a bench in the courtyard as uraume is applying an ointment to your throat. your neck still hurts with every move you make. the strength of sukuna’s hand is not to be underestimated, you know that.

you flinch as they rub the cold liquid over your achy skin. it helps numbing the pain, which is god sent for when you want to sleep. you can easily rest without having to suffer the unbearable discomfort in your neck muscles.

it’s a bit quiet in the garden. it isn’t unusual for uraume to be silent, but you’re aching to talk about what’s bothering you. of course, the oh-so-important subject includes no one other than the king of curses.

you sigh and start rambling about your failed attempts to reconcile your relationship with sukuna. you’re getting frustrated and sad at the situation. you want nothing more than to go back to how things were—with you receiving special treatment.

you miss his voice, his touches, his hair, his skin, his muscles, his eyes, his hugs. . . it’s all too much to bear with. you want the sukuna you know back. you don’t care if he tried to get rid of you. you’ve long understood that it was his primal, unspoken urges that had taken over his brain.

“i don’t know.. he doesn’t want to talk to me nor see me,” you shrug and pout. uraume nods and tilts your chin back gently to get the ointment in every little cranny. you stare up at the bright blue sky, the gentle breeze being comforting, both mentally and physically.

your ears pick up on footsteps behind you. heavy footsteps which you recognise as sukuna’s. you whip your head to the side, perhaps a bit too fast, causing the pain in your neck muscles to return. you hear uraume sigh as they see their hard work go to waste in under a split second.

your eyes are focused on sukuna’s large stature filling out the layout of the garden. uraume politely bows at their master after taking a few steps away from you. they don’t lift their head as sukuna walks past you both.

he doesn’t spare you a glance. it’s like you’re not there at all. you frown and pout, though know better than to make a fool out of yourself and speak up. you watch the man walk into the main building of the estate, his sharp eyes focused on the path ahead, his hands resting inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

once sukuna disappears from your vision, you sigh and slump back against the bench. you look at uraume as they move close to you again, taking a glance at your neck. you huff and cock your head to the entrance of the building, “see! that’s what i mean!”

you’re clearly fed up. you just want to make up. you don’t care about the fact that he nearly killed you in that moment. you simply desire to feel that connection between the two of you again. a complicated relationship with its many ups and downs. it may be toxic, but you crave it.

uraume hums at your worries. they radiate a sense of peace that inevitably calms you down as well. they take a quick glance at the direction where sukuna was last seen. they’ve been serving him ever since decennia back—way before you became his concubine.

they’ve never seen him this conflicted, but they don’t tell you that. uraume looks back at you with a simple nod, trusting that you’ll be fine. if your life has been spared when sukuna was in such an indescribable irrational state of mind, then there’s nothing to worry about.

you’re the only one who’s ever escaped death by his hands. that is an incredible feat by itself.

uraume rubs the oil over your neck again, getting the last spots as they reassure you with one simple sentence; “i’m sure lord sukuna simply requires some time alone.”

. . .

you take uraume’s comment seriously. if sukuna needed time, you’ll give him as much space as possible. and thus it’s been another week ever since then.

it’s a sunday night and you can’t sleep. you get up from your futon and wrap a simple blanket around your body. you can’t be bothered to brush your hair or look proper. no one will be up during this ungodly hour anyway.

you sneak out of your chambers and walk down the long hallways. you slide the door to the courtyard open and step out onto the pavement after putting on your geta. it’s a chilly night with a full moon, perfect weather to take a breather.

you walk around the familiar scenery and crouch down near a patch of flowers. they’re your favorites. sukuna had personally ordered his servants to plant them in the garden after he found out you like them. the memory brings a fond smile to your face.

such small yet meaningful actions never fail to melt your heart. it’s another reason why you want to make up with sukuna. you want to help with whatever he’s struggling with, however you know that man will never accept the aid.

you wish to support him at the very least. you want to show your devotion to him, if that already wasn’t clear to him.

you sigh and stand up. you’re caught up in your own thoughts to realise that someone’s been watching you the entire time. you walk straight forward until you reach the koi pond. you stare at the fish as they float in the clear water.

you wish you could be as carefree as them. you turn around to walk back to your room after it’s getting a bit too cold. you did not expect to bump your head against a hard surface. “ow,” you rub your forehead and look up.

there he stands; the man you’ve been dying to see and speak to. sukuna stares down at you without uttering a word, his sharp eyes finally looking into yours.

“ry— my lord,” you stammer, switching to a more polite stance. you’re thrilled, but the excitement quickly dies down as you remember uraume’s words; he needs time. you don’t want to disturb him, as much as you want to jump into his arms. you bow your head at him, “have a good night.”

your heart hurts as you force yourself away from sukuna. you step away from him and look at the ground as you walk. simply seeing him from up close again has been enough for now. though, your body yearns for more.

a simple touch will suffice. . .

you’re surprised when you feel a tug at the blanket around your shoulders. you stumble back and nearly fall on your bum if it wasn’t for sukuna holding you up. you feel an arm sneak around your waist from behind, surprisingly gentle. much gentle than ever before.

sukuna lowers his head to whisper in your ear. he lets his wet tongue slide over the shell, nibbling at the skin as if reminding himself of your taste, “stay.”

it’s an order, that you can tell. you’re weak for him and thus you obey without a single sign of protest. you feel a sudden sharp sting on the side of your neck which makes you remember what caused it. sukuna seems to notice the same thing.

it’s been getting better, but you still randomly get tingles near your neck area when you move it around too much. you silently push through the pain, which only lasts about a few seconds.

sukuna doesn’t comment on it, but takes a mental note of the sight. he’s recalling that time when you’ve nearly died at his hands. his eyes darken at the memory. he’s been trying to process the fact that he’s lost control over himself. those dark urges had taken over his mind and body, nearly consuming him whole.

they’re still hidden inside him—the desires to possess you, crush you, consume and devour your heart, body and soul. they intensify when you’re with him. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

sukuna still cannot comprehend why you. what does that feeling in his stomach mean whenever he’s with you? it’s irritating, because it confuses him. confusing things which he doesn’t hold the answer over, annoy the king of curses.

an urge to claim someone as his forever, going as far as to want to consume them, is a new feeling to sukuna. it’s an unhealthy obsession that’s started because of you.

is that what humans call love?

he’s thought about it. perhaps, that is the case. but it must be a different type of love—one that’s so overwhelming that it’s dangerous. for both parties involved.

sukuna sighs. thinking about emotions and feelings isn’t his forte—it never really was. it’s stupid and foolish. and yet sukuna feels like a true king whenever you’re with him. your devotion to him sends shivers down his spine in a good way.

it showed two weeks ago. he saw how you accepted your position; your death. it turns him on to see you so submissive and obedient. maybe that’s also a reason why he nearly lost his mind that day.

lust is a scary thing.

sukuna’s lips avoid your neck. he rests his forehead on top of your shoulder, simply standing still against you from behind. the chilly breeze is long forgotten as his large stature protects you from the cold air. you don’t even need your blanket anymore.

you smile in content as you finally get what you want. you don’t even need an apology. hell—you don’t even need any words. this moment is more than enough to rebuild your relationship with the man behind you.

“y’re not going anywhere, yeah?” sukuna says in a low and possessive tone. it’s another command you follow without hesitation. he’s never going to tell you directly, but the lack of your presence has definitely been felt. now that he has you, his favorite concubine, he’s not going to lose you again. he won’t allow it.

you nod at sukuna’s words with a chuckle. you’re happy to be back in his warm embrace. you know that sukuna isn’t one to talk about his own inner turmoil, so you don’t push it.

those dark urges of his are to be discussed another day, if sukuna allows it. for now, this fleeting moment is more than enough. you reply to his order as you always do, to any command that leaves his lips;

“understood, my lord.”

[maskedbyghost]

+18, smut, i just love this trope...

I just love the idea of enemies with benefits with Simon. Something about the way he gets under your skin makes it impossible not to want to claw at his face—or his clothes. And you know he feels the same way.

The whole base knows you two hate each other. It’s loud, it’s aggressive, and it’s not subtle in the slightest. He makes your life hell, and you make his just as miserable. The missions go fine because professionalism and survival come first, but the second you’re off the field, it’s back to constant fights.

Which is why it’s no surprise when he pisses you off more than usual today. He’s been in your space all damn day, throwing orders around like he owns you, like he’s your superior—which he isn’t. He’s just unbearable. A six-foot-two pain in your ass. And when you snap back at him, when you throw that sharp look his way, he only grins beneath that stupid mask, like he’s enjoying every second of it.

So later that night, after stewing in your anger for hours, you march straight to his quarters. You don’t knock. You don’t hesitate. You push the door open, see him sitting on the edge of his bed, and start yelling.

“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” You kick the door shut behind you. Your jacket is already sliding off your shoulders.

Simon stands, unbothered, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “I don’t think, sweetheart. I know.”

You glare. “You are the most irritating—” You yank your shirt over your head and toss it aside. “—arrogant—” Your belt clinks as you unbuckle it. “—self-righteous asshole I’ve ever met.”

He watches you, something dark in his gaze, and then, just as fast, he’s yanking his own shirt off, tossing it behind him. “And you’re a stubborn little brat,” he shoots back, stepping toward you.

You push at his chest. “I hate you.”

His hands find your waist, grip tight, pulling you closer. “You love this cock, though.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, you’re about to.”

And then it’s a mess of teeth and hands, a battle for control that neither of you ever truly wins. It’s rough and desperate and fueled by everything you can’t say with words—except for the insults, because those fly just as easily as the clothes hitting the floor.

Simon shoves you against the bed, pressing his weight over you, his hands pinning yours above your head as he mouths at your neck, biting, leaving marks just to make a point. You arch up against him, teeth sinking into your lip to keep from moaning, but he knows better.

“You always try so hard to fight it,” he growls, nipping at your jaw before dragging his mouth lower. “But you always end up right here.”

You yank at his wrists, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“And you’re so fucking wet for me,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your thighs, making you gasp. “All that talk, all that hate—” His fingers slip beneath your waistband, pulling your last scrap of clothing down your legs. “And yet, you’re dripping for it.”

You bite back a retort, too focused on the way he’s lining himself up, teasing, and drawing it out just to get on your nerves. You glare up at him, breathing heavily. “If you don’t hurry the fuck up, I swear—”

Simon smirks, then pushes in with one rough thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs. “That what you wanted, sweetheart?”

You claw at his back, nails digging in as he sets a brutal pace, like he’s punishing you for every snarky remark, every glare, and every little thing you did to piss him off today. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him deeper, and the room fills with the sound of skin on skin, the creak of the bed, and the way your bodies collide like this is just another fight neither of you is willing to lose.

“Still hate me?” he taunts against your ear after some time, his voice rough and breathless.

You tilt your head back, gasping when he hits the perfect spot. “So much.”

He laughs, dark and smug, thrusting harder. “Yeah? Then why are you coming all over my cock?”

Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, nails scratching down his arms as pleasure rips through you, spine arching, head tipping back. He follows soon after, burying himself deep, groaning against your skin as he spills inside you, holding you close like he doesn’t want to let go.

For a long moment, there’s only heavy breathing, sweat-slicked skin, and the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath. And then, finally, Simon rolls onto his side, smirking at you in the dim light.

“Still hate you,” you mumble.

Simon chuckles, lazy and satisfied. “Sure you do, love.”

----------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap

[spicyspiders]

with different eyes and no shame

Mark Grayson variant x male reader smut

3.8k words

Stay inside, the text from Mark said.

This had a lot more angst than I expected to write. Warning for smut, bottom male reader, slight bloodplay, slight cum inflation, and the Mark variant being overall rough with the reader. I didn't really have a variant in mind when I was writing this, so any could be thought of when reading :)

Stay inside

The text was only two words, but still managed to send a chill down your spine. An hour later when nothing has happened, you can feel your body slowly relax. Still, you can’t help but look out your window one last time to make sure whatever Mark wanted you to stay inside and avoid has passed. 

A part of you felt hysterical as you looked out the window. You weren’t sure if being friends with a superhero and everything that came with that was now catching up with you, or if it was from your brain trying to focus on everything your eyes outside were trying to track. 

You hear the sound of a thump in your bedroom, signaling that Mark is here. It was a habit he developed over time you thought was silly, reminding you so much of when you were younger. You hoped Mark would grow out of it, but maybe it was a superhero rule he had that he could only fly through windows when entering homes. 

“I have a front door, you know,” you say, swinging your bedroom door open. The sun had gone down by the time Mark had texted and you managed to calm down, making the walk to your bedroom dark, and the state of your bedroom wasn’t any better. 

Mark almost looked ominous standing in what little light was left from the day, his back facing the window. Your first clue should have been the color of his suit, but you were too stupid to realize. 

“Mark?” You asked, “is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” He questioned back with a chuckle.

“You told me to stay inside,” you answered in confusion, “and is that a new suit?” You asked as Mark slowly turned around, your eyes glued to his seemingly new suit, “did something happen to the one you just got?”

“You worry too much,” Mark responded, still shrouded in the shadows. He stepped out of the darkness slowly, making it known that this wasn’t your Mark, “you both did,” he said, his voice low. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, growing faster and faster as Mark came closer, “who are you?” You whispered, backing up slowly. 

“I’m Mark,” he responds with a smile. 

You continue inching backward, shaking your head, “who are you?” You repeat, your back coming into contact with your wall. 

Mark’s smile turns sinister, “I’m Mark,” he says again, “and I already know what you’re thinking, and yes, I’m not your Mark,” he backs you further into the wall, making you hope that you would somehow fall through. But if this Mark was anything like yours, he’d easily be able to follow. “I also know that you’re thinking about running,” he lets out a laugh before he continues, “but I’ll break your fucking legs if you try.”

“Please,” you whisper, turning your face away when Mark’s hands reach out, “don’t hurt me,” you say, closing your hands when you feel his fingers on your face. 

“I’d never hurt you,” Mark says, forcefully turning your head to face him. 

After moments of tense silence, you open your eyes slowly to look at Mark, his gaze fixed upon you with an unreadable expression. 

“I’d never hurt you,” he repeats, “I finally have you again,” he says, his tone matching his soft words, but it doesn’t last. “I won’t lose you,” he growls, his voice dark and full of promise. And with those words, he seals that promise with a kiss. 

You weren’t even sure if kiss was the right word to call it, it felt like Mark– this version of Mark was trying to devour you whole. Though he looked and sounded like Mark, you knew this version wasn’t yours, but that didn’t stop the overwhelming rush of emotions. 

There was a longing for Mark that had gotten to the point where you didn’t remember when it started, and had gone on for so long, that you didn’t know if it would ever. You had just managed to somehow get it to the point that you were happy. 

You loved Mark, and Eve nearly as long as you’d known her, so you wanted them to be happy. There were moments where it could feel bittersweet not only to see the man you had feelings for get with someone else, but to see that other person be someone you also cared about. There were also moments though, ones that had come up much more frequently where you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you were moving on, and hopeful for the future. 

You just didn’t think that who you would be moving on with would be another version of who you originally fell for. If moving on was even what you could call it, you weren’t sure if the phrase could be used in situations where it was being forced onto you. 

Though you knew this one wasn’t your Mark, your treacherous body still responded like it was. You shuddered at the feel of Mark's tongue pushing its way past your lips, an idea popping into your brain when in his conquest to dominate your mouth, it ran over your teeth. You squash the idea of biting Mark’s tongue seconds after it’s hatched, the image of him doing more than breaking your legs like he promised if you tried to run flashing through your mind.

Tears fall from your eyes when Mark finally pulls away, his eyes opening to then quickly filling with concern. You had spent what felt like hours, maybe even days imagining what your first kiss with Mark would be like, and in moments where you were thinking with your dick and not your brain, it would think of what kisses would be like that were filled with more passion and energy. And though your body was already responding to just the one kiss, the rational part of you was still there to remind you that this wasn’t your Mark.

“It’s okay,” Mark whispered, wiping your tears away, and then kissing up the tracks they left. “I have you,” he said, resting his cheek against yours, the words sounding like he wasn’t just saying them to you, but saying them to himself like he hadn’t quite come to the realization. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, your eyes slipping shut, thinking that if you closed your eyes to it, it would be easier to ignore, “what happened to the me from your universe?” You forced your eyes open, waiting for Mark to respond. 

Mark’s face goes stormy and full of emotion before he breaks eye contact, “gone,” he says, his eyes flicking back up. He steps closer, his hands moving down to your shoulders, “taken from me before I realized how I felt,” he said before he pulled your body into his chest in a tight embrace, “I won’t let that happen again.”

You have to force yourself to breathe, trying to calm your racing heart. What takes longer is getting your arms to move. A part of you thinks that if you just give in and give this Mark what he wants, then he’ll leave, but another part of you, bigger than you wanted to admit, responded to the fact that this was probably the closest to getting something you always wanted. 

You wrap your arms slowly around Mark, trying to not feel the way your heart broke at the small, wounded noise Mark made. You hated the way you could relate to this Mark, knowing that you could find comfort in each other based on the things you lost and couldn’t have. 

Mark pulls you closer, his head going into the space between your neck and shoulder. His nose went beneath the collar of your shirt as he nuzzled the skin he could find. His hands ran up and down your back as his lips came into contact with your skin, much softer than you expected. 

You shiver at the feel of his lips on your skin, your body seemingly moving on its own to give Mark more room as you let your head fall back onto the wall. You gasp when his lips kiss softly up your neck and along your jaw, your eyes opening once more when you feel the puff of Mark’s breath on your face. 

As Mark’s face slowly inches closer, his eyes flick between yours and your lips. The kiss he pressed to your lips was the complete opposite of the last, but you’re still slow to respond. Once you do, Mark’s hands are on your face to angle the kiss into how he wants it. 

Mark’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. It pushes in slowly when you open up seconds later, and this time, you both let out noises of pleasure when his tongue brushes against yours. 

Mark lets you pull away from the kiss, his head falling onto your shoulder as you gasp for air. He runs his hands back down your body, going lower than you expect them to when they grab your lower thighs. 

He hoists you up, your legs going to wrap around his waist as you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“I have you,” Mark says, his voice light, almost teasingly so. And if this Mark had powers that were anything like your Mark’s, he was completely right. No, you’ve never been flying like William had to know if Mark was able to hold you, but you had seen Mark on the news using his powers, so you had no doubt in your mind that he was able to lift you. 

“C’mon!” William had said in the parking lot to the restaurant you had dinner at on your last birthday, “it’s his birthday! You’ve got to take him flying!”

“I don’t want to go flying,” you said to William, “and besides,” you said with a laugh, “I don’t need you asking for me,” you said with another laugh as William pouted. 

“Then can you ask him to take me flying?” William asked, you and Mark looking at each other. 

“Why would Mark take you flying for his birthday?” Eve asked between laughter. 

“Because,” William started, his face going red as he tried to think of a response, and once he did, his eyes lit up, “he told me that for his birthday he wanted Mark to take me flying,” he finished, crossing his arms.

“Did you,” Eve asked, elbowing you softly. 

“Yeah,” Mark chimed in, “did you?” He asked as he rolled his eyes.

You looked between the three of them, Eve smiling at you, Mark looking unimpressed, and William staring at you with both brows raised as he nodded. “Oh yeah! I did forget that I promised William that I would ask.”

Eve nearly doubled over with laughter, his face nearly going as bright as her hair as Mark swooped William up. 

“Where are they going?” Amber asked after she walked up, to-go cup in hand. 

It was like this Mark was able to read your mind to know yours had never taken you flying as he floats you the few feet to your bed. You weren’t sure if it counted, but your arms and legs still tightened around him nonetheless.

You landed softly onto the bed, Mark murmuring a soft I’ve got you before his lips were against yours once again. Your legs loosened around Mark, and even as he let out a noise of protest, your feet came to rest on the bed. 

Your arms loosened just enough to get one of your hands in Mark’s hair, which was just as soft as you imagined your Mark’s would be. You moaned into Mark’s mouth when he rocked his hips down into yours, your fingers tightening around the strands between your fingers. 

Mark pulled away with a growl before he started wrestling his suit off. You had fantasized about this moment more times than you could count after you found out Mark was Invincible. If you were honest, since before then, too. There was just something about skin-tight costumes that got you going. Most of them, of course, being you helping him out of his suit, but now, with how fervently he was going at it, you kept your hands to yourself. 

It was almost funny watching him get the top portion off, but you could blame that on the hysterical feeling of this situation feeling as unreal as it did. 

You had seen Mark shirtless only a few times before, but this was completely different from the shy glances you managed to peek at. 

Mark gave you no choice but to touch his body as he ducked back down into another kiss, your fingers meeting hot skin. There was something dark and powerful underneath Mark’s skin, something that felt so much more different from the other men you’d had in your bed. 

You ran your hands up his body, starting from his abs to his upper chest, Mark letting out a soft groan when your hands brushed his nipples. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he growled after he pulled away from the kiss. Ducking back down, he instead went lower to get his mouth against your neck. 

I think I have an idea, you opened your mouth to say, but all that came out was a moan when Mark’s teeth sank into your skin. The sound only spurs Mark on as he moves to another spot to leave a trace. 

“Mark,” you hiss, unable to contain the next noise you let out as Mark’s teeth sink in deep, breaking the skin.

Mark moans around the skin between his teeth, his tongue running over the skin seconds later. As he laps at the skin, Mark rolls his hips into yours, outright humping you. He pulls back from your neck, meeting your eye as he licks his lips. 

You tremble under the dark look he fixes you with, watching as he gets off the bed to get the bottom of his suit down, “take that off,” he commands, “unless you want me to tear it off,” he smirks as he continues on, “I’m fine with either one.”

“Good boy,” he murmurs as you start pulling your clothes off. Once you are fully naked and your clothes are in a pile beside the bed, Mark steps back up to the bed. “Let me look at you,” he says, wrapping a hand around his cock. 

You watch the almost hypnotic motion of Mark slowly stroking his cock, licking your lips when you see a pearly bead of precum fall from the head and down onto your floor. You feel your cock give a twitch of interest as it grows hard between your spread legs. 

You look back up to Mark watching you, and you quickly look away, knowing you’ve been caught. The look on his face didn’t look angry, though, it was smug and full of heat. “You can look,” he says, “it’s all yours.”

Your head snaps up at the declaration, your cock giving another twitch. Your throat suddenly feels dry when you try and swallow, “does that mean I’m yours?” You croak, your gaze falling from Mark. 

Mark lets out a proud laugh, and when you look back up at the sound, you’re met with a faceful of cock. Strong fingers move under your chin to tilt your head up so you meet his eye, “you’ve been mine since I found out you were here, sweetheart,” he says, “now,” he lets go of your face to look around, “where’s your lube?”

You roll over to crawl up the bed, reaching out to grab the handle of your nightstand. Mark chooses the moment you’re balanced on one hand to lay a smack to your ass, catching you off guard. 

You’re proud of yourself for not falling face-first into your comforter, and pause from digging through your drawer to turn and glare at Mark. 

“Sorry,” he says, his arms crossed over his chest, not looking or sounding sorry at all, “couldn’t help it.”

You toss the lube in Mark’s general direction and try your best not to slam the drawer closed. You laid your head down on your pillows, biting your lip as you most certainly weren’t waiting for Mark to spank you again. 

Instead, Mark runs his hands slowly over the globes of your ass, “I mean,” he says as he lifts your hips and gets you onto your knees. “Can you blame me?” He asks as he spreads you open. 

He catches you off guard once more as he dives in, licking a broad over your hole. The shock of it punches a sound of surprise from your open mouth as your cock throbs between your legs. 

Mark lays a few more broad strokes, occasionally licking over your balls and taint on the way to your hole. You groan when he zeros in, licking over your hole until it’s relaxed enough that his tongue can lick inside.

You moan into your pillow as Mark fucks his tongue inside, his tongue coating your walls with his spit. Mark answers with a moan of his own, the vibration going straight to your now hard cock. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” Mark says as he pulls back, but not before smacking your ass one last time. He bites into the other untouched cheek, his hands coming to grip your hips in an iron-tight grasp. You whimper into the pillow, having no choice but to let Mark bite you. 

With a kiss pressed to the spot, Mark finally pulls back. You’re left with an aching spot that you were sure was going to look like the one he made earlier on your neck. 

The sound of the lube opening is loud in your ears before it goes quiet once more. Though you were anticipating it, you still jump when the pad of Mark’s lubed fingers runs over your hole. What you always thought would be slow and soft was instead fast and hard, giving you no room to breathe as two of Mark’s fingers sank inside. 

You hissed around the burn deep inside, but of course, Mark gave you no time to focus on that either as his fingers found your prostate. 

“There we go,” he said, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could hear how smug he sounded, “gonna break my fingers, baby,” he said, already adding a third finger. “So fuckin’ tight,” he groans as he pushes his fingers deep. 

Feeling full already, it’s hard to imagine how his cock was going to feel, but when after a few moments Mark pulled his fingers free, you knew you needed what little time you had to mentally prepare.

Vulgarly, Mark smacks the head of his cock against your stretched hole. You gasp when Mark grabs your ass in his hands, his fingers digging into the bruise he left on one of your cheeks. He takes the time to continue teasing you, this time by squeezing your ass cheeks together and fucking his cock between the tight space. 

You turn your head to look back at Mark, “the condom,” you said, whimpering through the pain as Mark squeezed the globes of your ass tighter. 

Mark leaned down to lay his body along your back, “thanks for reminding me to throw those away,” he whispered into your ear, feeling his smile on the shell of your ear, “you won’t be needing those anymore,” he said darkly. 

With that statement, Mark brought his hips up and pressed the head of his slick cock to your hole. In one steady thrust, Mark bottoms out. His hands lock around your hips, keeping your body tightly pressed to his as his moans of pleasure go from his chest and vibrate through your back. 

You turn your head back into the pillow to muffle the sound you made, unknown to your ears whether it was of pleasure or pain. You clench down around the intrusion, the burn of it lighting up your entire body. 

You gasp into the pillow, making it hard to respond to the kiss Mark initiates. You weren’t all too sure about the other half that Mark was, but if the way this Mark kissed you taught you anything, it was that he didn’t need to breathe in the same way did. 

Maybe it will get better over time. The thought made your cock twitch thinking about already going at it again when the round you were in now hadn’t even really begun. 

Mark didn’t seem to mind though as he licked inside your mouth. On his tongue, you tasted the slight remnants of musk, lighting up your tastebuds. Mark pulled back at the same time as his hips did, his head falling onto your shoulder on the thrust back in. 

The only space Mark left between your bodies was just enough for him to fuck in and out of your body, your hole soon becoming accustomed to his cock. There was no question as to if your moans were of pleasure or pain minutes later as Mark’s cock rammed into your prostate on each thrust in. 

There was no time to chase the pleasure as it left when Mark pulled out, because it was there again and again, shooting sparks across your body. It was building to the end that you quickly felt approaching, feeling as if you weren’t going there, but instead, it was forcing its way to you. 

You reached between your legs to wrap your hand around your leaky cock, “that’s it, baby,” Mark said, his lips dragging along your shoulder as he spoke. His pace going too fast to try and match, you stroked your cock to your own messy pace, only taking a few pulls for your body to seize up as you came. 

Your eyes rolled back into your head, the pleasure too intense for your body to seemingly handle before blacking out. You came to on your side, Mark’s body spooned against yours. 

“Relax,” he hissed, and if he was trying to help, his arms tightening around your body sure didn’t assist as he held you in a nearly too-tight embrace. “That’s it,” he murmured as he felt your body relax.   

Mark’s cock still buried inside you, you clenched down around his cock, your own giving a pathetic throb of interest. “How’re you still,” you began to ask, but when Mark’s cock brushed your prostate, you gasped. 

“It takes a little while,” he said, pressing his smile into the back of your neck, “can you feel it?” He asked as he ran his hand across your stomach. 

You shivered as Mark ran his hand over your stomach. You felt full, but not uncomfortably so. 

“Is this what it’s always going to be like?” You asked, grimacing as you felt his cum slip free past Mark’s still-hard cock. 

“Guess we’ll have to find out,” he said as he kissed along the back of your neck, but something told you he already knew the answer. 

[pyfsan]

Your taste on my lips

pairing: bf!jake x fem!reader

genre: smut (minors DNI)

synopsis: no plot, just reader and her bf jake fucking and being dirty

wc: 1k

warnings: rough sex (just at the beginning) mention of bruises, cum eating, oral (m receiving), face fucking, fingering, a bit of dirty talk (jake is chalant), also jake is a whimper. i think that's everything

☆

note: this is the first time I'm writing in English and I'm not a native speaker so there will be grammar mistakes so just read past it..... and be patient

smut under the cut

The thing is... jake doesn't know the time to stop. To the point you have to yell at him that you need to breathe a little, or even that it's hurting. He gets so drunk in the feeling that his senses become nothing and he can't hear for shit. But once your voice comes tearing through his ears he just completely freezes in place, looking at you with both eyes wide open.

"I'm sorry babe, did i hurt you?" He asks, soft voice as he runs his hands on the skin your legs, soothing you down.

"Just... go less rough, it'll bruise me later" you say back, trying to recover your breath.

"I'll kiss the bruise away, don't worry" he says cockingly and you slap his arm

"I'm being serious, your cock will tear me apart if you don't slow down" you hiss back and he kisses your neck picking up his pace again, but being much more gentle.

He buries his face in the curve of your neck, licking and sucking your skin just to compensate the steady pace he set himself, almost like to control his impulses. It makes you moan as his mouth keeps working on your sensitive skin and it gets even harder when jake goes down to bite and suck your nipples. He's actually unable to keep his pretty mouth empty, always having his puffy lips on your breasts, neck, pussy or even ass. He doesn't care as longs as his tongue is busy with your body.

Jake ends up caught in the heat all over again but now it doesn't hurt anymore so when his pace increases crazy hard all you manage to do is moan and dig your nails on his arms. You feel the moment he can't control his mouth around your nipple anymore, leaving his lips parted over your skin as he drools, feeling dizzy from how your pussy clenchs around his cock, milking him until he is moaning nonstop. He cannot cum inside you, you have agreed to don't do that so jake is almost fainting trying to hold his orgasm as long as he can. But he's losing this time so he pulls out of you to cum over your belly, dropping the most pornographic whimpers to your ears. You don't think for even a second before leading your hand to the mess he's made on you and picking his cum with your fingers. Jake watches you with his face high as you sink your dirty fingers into your mouth to taste him.

"Now you'll have to do that to my cock" he says, picking your cheeks with one of his hands to bring your face to his, kissing your wet lips.

"But will you let me fuck myself while i suck you off?" you plea, dolled eyes shining under your dark lashes, jake almost let out a moan as he hear you say those words. He can't believe you're so dirty like this for him.

"I can do that for you, babe" he'll say back, with his fingers running down to your wet core. You sigh when he finds your clit and presses it, rubbing gently first.

His cock starting to get hard again by the feeling of you under his fingers, so wet for him. Even thou he loves you so much and find it so endearing the way you cannot take your eyes away from his face while you fuck, jake himself likes to spend time looking over your body and the way it moves under his touch. So as he rubs your pussy, he watches the way you lift your leg a bit more, the way your stomach moves faster as your breathe gets faster and how your tits bounces a little when he starts fingering you. The whole thing is just pure magic for him. When jake notice, he's hard as fuck again, rocking his hips on your leg to get some release before sitting above your stomach to put it in your mouth.

You part your lips open, receiving his weight on your tongue and then swallowing as much as possible. Jake is no monster cock but he's no near little either, so you find yourself fighting for air anyways everytime you give him head. To your liking, jake already knows how you prefer doing it so he just starts fucking your mouth immediately, getting a little sloppy with his fingers on your pussy but you don't even mind it. Seeing the way he loses himself inside your mouth little by little is the best part. He grabs you neck using his free hand and just rolls his hips into your face nonstop, causing wet sounds to scape your mouth which is full of him. Once again he's whimpering and sighing, closing his eyes so tight he starts seeing white spots.

"Oh my god, i want to fuck that pretty mouth everyday" he starts babbling, head thrown back and eyes shut and you watch as he does his best to continue to massage your clit "I'm gonna fill your mouth with my cum, do you like it?" he says now looking back at you seeing you blink as an answer since you cannot talk right now. "you're so hot, fuck" he just goes back to babbling before he cums deep in your throat. He stops his hands on your pussy for a moment, lost in his senses, holding your head with both hands to keep you in place through his orgasm.

You do your best to breath by your nose, focusing to not choke on his sensitive cock. Jake pulls out and sits back on your lap eyes glued on your face.

"Let me see it" he asks touching your chin with his index finger so you open your mouth enough for him to see his cum all over your tongue and throat. Your boyfriend smiles with pride and closes your mouth "now swallow it for me, babe" he tells you and so you do, then he leans in to lend a kiss on your lips.

"I'm gonna make you cum now" he just says, brushing his nose over yours.

[vaginalvr]

Okokokokok so I’ve been thinking for a while about this idea but reader and Spencer are like hook up buddies or in a relationship in secret. During sex reader leaves a ton of scratches on Spencer and the team finds out about them via those scratches. Can be as filthy or clean as you would like

Mwah 💋

if you insist 😋😋😋

a/n got a little carried away and didn’t do my hw but worth it!!

cw: Secret relationship, unprotected sex (fictional), rough/possessive sex, scratching, dirty talk, mild public embarrassment, team teasing, aftercare

You were so wrong.

The first time it happened—an accidental blur of passion in a hotel room two cases ago—you told yourself it’d be just the once. A stress release. A moment of weakness. But now, three months in, you’re tangled in his sheets again, nails digging into his back as he fucks into you with such intense purpose that your voice is barely working.

“Spence—fuck—harder,” you gasp, legs locked around his waist.

He obliges with a low grunt, the sound rough and possessive, driving his hips deeper until the headboard slams the wall. His hands grip your hips, fingers bruising your skin as he fucks you like he owns you.

“You like this?” he pants, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You like when I make you scream my name?”

“Yes—god, yes—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. In fact, he drags your hips up just enough to hit that devastating angle, and you keen so loud he has to kiss you to muffle the sound. Your nails scrape down his back in sheer reflex, leaving raised red trails in their wake. He hisses into your mouth but keeps going, chasing your high with relentless determination.

“You’re gonna make me come,” you cry out, one hand fisting in his hair, the other clawing at his shoulder. “Fuck—Spencer—”

“Let go for me, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Want to feel you come all over me.”

The orgasm rips through you, a blinding shockwave that has your body arching and trembling under his. You moan his name, over and over, nails digging deeper as if anchoring yourself to him. Spencer groans, losing his rhythm just enough for you to feel him start to unravel.

“God, I’m gonna—shit—” His hips stutter. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

He spills inside you with a shudder, gripping your waist like he’ll never let go.

⸻

The room is quiet now, save for your breathing.

You lie tangled in Spencer’s sheets, skin still prickling from the aftershocks. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, breath hot, damp curls clinging to his forehead.

“I think I actually blacked out for a second,” you mumble, making him laugh quietly against your skin.

“I noticed,” he murmurs. “You left…a lot of evidence.”

You glance at his back. Red lines. Welts. Some might turn into bruises.

“Oh, shit.”

Spencer looks far too pleased. “Don’t apologize. I liked it.”

You sigh and flop back onto the bed. “Yeah, but… we work with profilers. How are we supposed to hide that?”

“We’ll be careful,” he says, nuzzling your neck. “We always are.”

⸻

You are not, in fact, careful.

The next morning is a disaster waiting to happen.

You’d barely finished dressing in Spencer’s guest bathroom when you noticed the time. You hadn’t planned to spend the night, but the sex was too good—and now you’re both late.

The plan: Arrive separately. Pretend everything’s normal. Keep your hands to yourselves. Easy.

The reality: You both show up at the same time, with suspiciously matching yawns and Spencer looking like he lost a fight with a cat in the dark.

“Morning,” Morgan says, sipping his coffee. “Rough night, Pretty Boy?”

Spencer blinks. “Uh. What?”

JJ, walking in, freezes mid-step. “Oh my God.”

You turn, panic prickling under your skin.

“What?” Spencer says, confused—until JJ points to his neck.

“Spencer,” she says slowly, clearly trying not to laugh, “you have scratches. A lot of them.”

Morgan leans closer, raising an eyebrow. “Damn, someone got wild. Who knew the genius had it in him?”

Rossi walks in, glances at Spencer’s neck, and just smirks. “Looks like someone had a good night.”

You want to melt into the floor.

Spencer, poor thing, goes beet red. “I—it’s not—They’re not—It’s—”

Emily strolls by, pausing long enough to inspect his collarbone. “Jesus, Reid. Was this a date or an exorcism?”

“Okay,” you blurt out, desperate to redirect, “can we maybe not turn this into an interrogation?”

“Ohhh.” Emily turns to you, grinning wickedly. “Getting defensive, are we?”

You open your mouth—then promptly close it.

Silence.

Morgan’s eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you. “Wait a minute…”

“Don’t,” Spencer warns.

“You two?” JJ says, wide-eyed. “No. No way.”

“Way,” Emily says, delighted. “That makes so much sense.”

Morgan lets out a loud laugh. “Reid! You dog! And here I thought you were all about statistics and chess nights.”

“He is,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “He just also happens to be really fucking good in bed.”

The room explodes.

JJ gasps. Rossi chuckles into his coffee. Garcia, walking in late, hears that last part and squeals loud enough to make Hotch look up from his office.

And then, of course, he walks out.

You both freeze.

Hotch surveys the scene with the quiet menace of a man used to chaos. “Is there a reason everyone’s yelling about Spencer’s sex life?”

Your heart drops into your shoes.

Rossi, ever the chaos instigator, shrugs. “It’s come to our attention that Dr. Reid has a secret admirer. Or maybe not so secret, considering the claw marks.”

Spencer groans. You cover your face.

Hotch raises a brow and looks at Spencer, then you.

“You’re both adults,” he says flatly. “Just… try to be discreet. And if either of you show up covered in hickeys again, I’m filing a wellness report.”

He turns and walks back into his office like he didn’t just casually approve your sex life.

⸻

The teasing doesn’t stop for a week.

Spencer can’t so much as yawn without someone winking at him. You can’t drink from a water bottle without Morgan muttering, “Gotta stay hydrated after all that cardio, huh?”

But despite the embarrassment, you can’t stop thinking about that night. Or the way Spencer looked afterward—flushed, breathless, marked.

Yours.

So the next time you end up in bed together, you don’t hold back.

You kiss him hard, fingers raking down his chest. He pulls you close, and his voice is rough in your ear.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “Mark me again.”

And you do.

Because the secret’s out—and he’s yours.

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Riding Toji in the morning...

Note: y'all I put my whole pussy into this... 1.2k words 🗿

Thank you for the help @saintkaylaa @xoxo-dede

You couldn't help but notice that Toji had morning wood every morning. It was normal right? It happened to every guy. At first, you try not to think much of it, pretending to stay asleep in the morning while he went to the bathroom to take care of it. It’s not like you wouldn’t help him out if he asked, but he never did. He didn’t want to inconvenience you this early in the morning, he thought. 

Until the day you finally built up the courage. You always woke up before him, spending a few minutes admiring the burly, sleepy man beside you. He always slept shirtless and in his boxers, giving you a good view of how his muscles flexed everytime he adjusted himself.  

Damn, he was gorgeous. In the rugged, rough around the edges sort of way. 

You’re so transfixed by his looks that you don’t realize that you're about to fall over his chest until you completely lose balance. You catch yourself before falling completely, your hand landing on his abs. Any normal person would have woken up but not Toji. He was still out like a light. 

Your fingers graze over his abdomen, your eyes fixated on his growing bulge. There it was again, the morning wood. You decide to take this as a challenge, how much teasing could he take in his sleep? Cautiously, you lightly graze your fingertips over where his shaft would be, his cock bobbing in response. Toji’s eyes flutter slightly as his lip twitches and you think you’re fucked. But no… heavy ass sleeper. 

With a little more pressure (and confidence), you press the palm of your hand down flat on his bulge and slowly rub against it. You let out a quiet giggle as you continue to rub his cock, excitement and pride growing in you. You lean towards his face to pepper soft kisses to his temple.

At this point, you’re growing just as wet as he was hard. You wanted him- no needed him to wake up. After a bit more rubbing, you decide to cautiously slip your hand down his boxers. You give his cock a firm squeeze, rubbing your thumb over the tip before looking up at him again. 

Nothing…

Damn, this man can sleep through an earthquake, you think to yourself. You peck his cheek again softly, your hands still teasing his shaft. You place another kiss and another, until you finally land on his lips. You freeze for a moment as his eyes flutter open. Green eyes immediately darting down to your hand. He closes his eyes again, letting out a deep groan.

“Fuck…”

You freeze as you look at him through your eyelashes, watching as he fights sleep. “Shh,” you lull, peppering his cheek with kisses. “Just go back to sleep.” you coo at him. Toji smirks at you, before closing his eyes again. “Someone’s needy,” he teases you. 

You run your finger over his tip again, causing him to groan again. “You know… you were hard in your sleep. I'm doing you a favor,” you reciprocate his teasing. 

“Oh yeah?” he mumbles, adjusting his position and putting an arm behind his head. You nod, your focus going back to stroking his cock. “You know what would help me out even more?” he asks. Curiously you look up at him and see a mischievous smirk on his face.

“What?” you smirk up at him, your hand keeping its pace on his cock. Toji holds back his whine, throwing his head back, “I-if you ride me.” He tries to compose himself, a soft grumble leaving his lips as he speaks. 

Your hand comes to halt, as you make eye contact with him again. Oh you weren’t done teasing him. “You have to say please, handsome,” you speak with a hint of playfulness in your words. Toji gave a quiet gasp as you spoke those words. His cheeks flushed slightly red and you don’t know if it’s from the summer heat or from the way that sweet pet name left your lips. Or maybe you do… 

“C’mon baby… say please,” You continue your mission, your index finger poking at his swollen tip. Toji mutters a curse under his breath before saying the words you wanted to hear. 

“Please… please ride me, woman.” He brings his hand up to his face to try and cover his embarrassment but it was too late. You were already hot and bothered and you planned to do something about it. 

“Good boy,” You purr into his ear with a giggle. Slowly moving to straddle him completely, using his chest to hold you still. Your fingers play with your lacy panties, moving them to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. Toji peeks through his fingers, watching your next move intently. You close your eyes, as you begin to slide down onto his length. 

The feeling of his fat tip, hitting that one sweet spot inside you automatically makes you dumb on his cock. And his girth and thick veins that run up and down the entirety of his shaft weren't helping at all. Toji just couldn’t tear his gaze of you, mouth slightly agape, as he watches his dick disappear in your pussy. 

Large hands come up to your hips before you could even move once. “W-wait…” Toji huffs, his breath shaky as he talks. “Move slow… I could cum right now…” He speaks with a whine, his voice a little lower than usual. 

You move just like he told you, painfully slow. Up and down on his length as Toji watches your every move. You look down at the man under you and fuck was it a sight to behold. Only you could see him like this, needy and whiny. His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine, the heat in his gaze was filled with unspoken desire for you. 

Both your grunts and moans paired with the sounds of hot skin slapping against each other fills the room. You pick up the pace, riding his cock a little faster as the coil in your stomach flares up. 

So close. And it’s heavily visible on Toji’s face. Short, raven strands of hair stuck to his forehead, his eyebrows quirked together, eyes half lidded focused in on the way your cunt squeezed him. 

His hands grip tighter onto you, holding you in place. His thumb grazes over your clit. Fuck- that was it, just what you needed and even while being fucked out he knew exactly how to give it to you. 

“Fuck, fuck…”  He grunts loudly, reaching his climax. His hips sloppy buck into you, meeting your ragged movements. You finally reach your high, creaming all over his throbbing cock. He curses again, his hands shaking still holding onto you. Hot cum fills you right up as you ride out your orgasm. 

Your limp body collapses onto him. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to him as you both catch your breath. After a moment of silent bliss he finally speaks up with a smirk plastered all over his face. 

“What a morning…” He mutters with a chuckle. 

Masterlist

Discord

[gatorbites-imagines]

Logan begging for it.... so sweetly we cant refuse..... when he knows reader needs his sleep..... taking it in his even when it stays soft...... cockwarming reader while we sleeps.....

Yes im writing whis as I fall asleep

Logan Howlett x male reader

headcanons

I was gonna write a longer thing, but a migraine decided to kick my ass all of a sudden, so here I am simply rambling about this.

Imagine having a normal but exhausting day job. You’re no hero, no vigilante, no nothing, you’re just a guy. And you somehow ended up charming the pants off of The Wolverine of all people. How? You have no idea

Dating Logan is a real treat, even with his roughness and sometimes standoffish personality. When you guys really get close, he starts to get more vulnerable.

Along with vulnerable emotionally, he also starts to get a much stronger libido, seeing as he has a partner now. Him having a healing factor doesn’t help you in this case, since it means he has very little recovery time.

Seeing Logan, one would think hed be the dominant one, something you assumed in the beginning too. That was until you guys got intimate the first time and he shoved you onto your back to ride you instead.

There were no complaints from you obviously, because who’d mind having someone like that riding you? Logan in his broad, hairy and so very heavy way, lifting himself up and down on you like it was barely a workout.

You have to remind him to be careful though, multiple times, seeing as his bones make him extra heavy, and your poor hips are that of the average person.

Having a partner with a libido like that though, also means Logan is always raring to go, almost waiting for you by the door when you get home from your shift, like an old gruff dog waiting for affection.

The first week or two of you coming home dead on your feet and passing out on the couch the moment you sat down passed… as well as they could for Logan. He wouldn’t force you to do anything you hadn’t agreed with, but God, is he starting to get antsy.

After way too long, in Logans opinion at least, he finally can’t take it anymore. Being the Loverboy he secretly is, he at least brings you to your shared bed before clambering on top of you again.

You’re just too exhausted to do much other than pet at his thighs, eyes already drooping, but his almost timid but so desperate begging keeps you awake longer than other days. When you sleepily agree, Logan kisses you so hungrily you almost lose your breath.

You stay somewhat awake in the beginning as he works your clothes off, being kind enough not to rip it even if logan really really wanted too. He knows its your work clothes, and you’ve scolded him enough times about ripping up your clothes at this point.

It was hard to even really stay awake as Logan worked you hard, just enough for him to slide down on you, his groans sounding like he was a starving man having his first bite of food in weeks. Had you not been struggling to keep your eyes open, you might have teased him.

When Logan leans forward and just rests his weight on you, that was the last straw. Who could stay awake with such a warm heavy weight pressing down on them, like your own personal weighted wolverine blanket.

Logan didn’t even really feel the need to ride you or get himself off, he just wanted to be close to you like this, to feel you inside him and press up against you. So having slowly doze off under him wasn’t a bother, especially as you mumble for him to just keep going.

Most of the night is majorly used by Logan to just tuck his face into your neck and huff your scent, or rub his own against you. You will wake up with beard burns, sorry but those at the rules. Theres probably some chew marks and hickeys mixed in there too, Logans possessive.

You do wake up with very sore hips the next morning. In the comics he’s 300 lbs, but that’s with his comic height, so if were going off of movie Logan he weighs even more. And no matter how much you work out, that’s gotta make you sore.

You don’t really mind though, especially as Logan makes sure you massage your hips in ways you didn’t even know were possible. This also just gives Logan an excuse to lick and gnaw at you more, and to rub more of his scent into you, and yours into him.

Yes, you limp that day, and probably the day after. Luckily you’re able to work from home. This of course also means you have Logan on your dick the entire time, even if its just your mutant lover crawling under the blanket to get his mouth on you.

[mononijikayu]

casual crazy — fushiguro toji.

“You’re staring.” His voice is deep, casual, but there’s something about it that makes your stomach flip. You don’t look away. Why should you? He’s a sight, broad shoulders stretching his dark shirt, the veins in his arms just there, teasing your drunken brain into all sorts of bad ideas. “So?” you couldn’t help but garble, setting your empty glass down with a clumsy clink. “Can’t help it. You’re kinda hard not to look at.” His smirk deepens. “Are you always this bold, or is it the liquor talking, hm?”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: smut, romance (sorta), enemies to lovers (sorta), assasins and hitmen, friends with benefits, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, porn with plot, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, bathroom/toilet sex, orgasm, tension, lust, power play, dirty talk, sexual tension, public sex, size difference, dom/sub undertones, drunken flirting, casual sex turned complicated, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, assassin! toji, assassin! reader;

WORD COUNT: 5.7k words.

NOTE: i remember writing this while i was going through the horny thoughts i couldn't avoid. genuinely, need to be done dirty like this, i fear. i made my friend beta read this and they were like, 'actually if he calls me good girl again, im gonna lose it' and the reaction was totally worth it. anyway, i hope you enjoy it as much as we did. i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU HAVE A VERY BAD RELATIONSHIP WITH ALCOHOL. You’ve long admitted that to yourself. Yet, you’ve done very little about it over the past few years, no matter the amount of therapy or rehab you’ve done.

There just really wasn’t any escape from the addiction that made you feel alive. But that’s just the life of an assassin, you supposed. You had to have something that keeps you alive, that keeps you going, in this line of work.

Your calloused fingers clutch the sweating glass, the whiskey inside sloshing dangerously close to spilling. You should probably slow down, but the warmth spreading through your veins is the only thing keeping you steady. Or maybe it’s the opposite. Hard to tell at this point.

And then, all of a sudden, the devil hands you a brand-new temptation. One far more intoxicating than the burn of whiskey down your throat. The familiar craving for alcohol vanishes in a blink, cast aside as something far more potent takes hold. Lust. Raw and unfiltered, creeping into your veins like wildfire. Because there he is.

Fushiguro Toji.

The dark haired man looks like he’s danced with the devil and walked away grinning, untouched, undefeated. They even say so, all the other assassins. They say he wears sin like a second skin, so easily, so unapologetic, so effortless. And seeing it for yourself, it was actually impressive. 

There’s a weight to him, something heavy and dark, yet he carries it with an ease that shouldn’t be possible. Perhaps that’s why he could live easily as an assassin more than most. That lazy confidence rolls off him in waves, an unspoken challenge to the world.

It was as if nothing—no god, no fate, no consequence, could ever chain him down. 

Nothing in the world could bring this dangerous man to his knees.

After all, that’s why he’s Shiu’s favorite out of the scores of assassins like you.

The scar at the corner of his mouth twitches when he smirks, a wicked little tell that gives nothing away and yet says everything. His sharp blue—green eyes was interesting to look at, you think. 

In some ways, you know you could not read the truth behind those emotions that spiral through those orbs. Yet, it was obvious what intentions they had. And that makes your skin crawl to no end. It was eager, hungry, cutthroat, knowing. 

Amusement, intrigue… danger.

You didn’t care for the precisement emotion.

That’s when you knew you were already lost.

“You’re staring.”

His voice is deep, casual, but there’s something about it that makes your stomach flip. You don’t look away. Why should you? He’s a sight, broad shoulders stretching his dark shirt, the veins in his arms just there, teasing your drunken brain into all sorts of bad ideas.

“So?” you couldn’t help but garble, setting your empty glass down with a clumsy clink. “Can’t help it. You’re kinda hard not to look at.”

His smirk deepens. “Are you always this bold, or is it the liquor talking, hm?”

You hum, tilting your head as if actually thinking about it. The room sways a little, but before you can fall off your stool, a firm hand wraps around your arm, steadying you with ease. His fingers are rough, warm, and entirely too comfortable where they are.

“Whoa there, [last name].” he murmurs, close enough now that you can smell him. All smoke, steel, and something faintly sweet. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.”

“I’m not, Fushiguro.” you protest, frowning up at him. “I just… you’re distracting right now.”

He chuckles, low and deep, and it rumbles through you in a way that makes you grip the edge of the bar. He still hasn’t let go of your arm, and you’re suddenly very aware of how big his hand is, how easily he could manhandle you if he wanted to.

“Distracting, huh?” He tilts his head, watching you like a cat watches a mouse that’s just a little too cocky for its own good. “So, what? You tryna flirt with me?”

Your grin is slow, lazy. “That depends.” you murmur, dragging your fingers up his arm, feeling the way the muscle tenses slightly beneath your touch. “Is it working?”

For a second, he just watches you, unreadable.

Then, he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Damn. You are drunk.” He snickers at you. “Not what I expected from you.”

You pout. “That a no?”

He leans in, just a little, enough that his breath fans against your cheek. “That’s a be careful, doll.” he says, voice like gravel, mischievous eyes gleaming with something that makes your throat dry up. “I don’t play nice. I never have.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the way he looks at you like he already knows exactly what would make you fall apart, but you find yourself leaning closer instead of backing off.

“Who said I wanted to be nice?”

His fingers tighten around your arm just slightly, his smirk curling into something more dangerous. “…Now that’s interesting.”

Toji exhales a quiet chuckle, his grip on your arm firm but not restraining. He could let go anytime, you could have just as much let go. But neither of you move to do anything. Instead, the tension only builds, like waves crashing over itself over and over.

His eyes flick over you, slow and assessing, like he’s deciding whether you’re a good bet or just another bad decision waiting to happen. Not that he seems like the type to care about bad decisions.

“You got a death wish or somethin’?” he murmurs, tilting his head, the scar on his lip twitching.

You smirk, fingers playing at the rim of your glass. “I dunno,” you say, voice dipping lower, hazier. “Depends. Are you planning on killing me?”

His grin sharpens. “Not unless you ask really nicely, doll.”

A shiver runs down your spine. It was one that had nothing to do with alcohol, that was quite certain. You should probably tread carefully, but the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something worth toying with, tasting. You suppose that makes you bold. Or maybe just stupid. You couldn’t decide the distinction.

“So what if I did?” You lean in, resting your chin on your palm, eyes locked on his. “What if I wanted a little danger?”

Toji hums, like he’s amused. “Doll, you’re too confident about it, don’t you think? I doubt you could handle it.”

You scoff, but before you can argue, he moves. Just a slight shift, but suddenly, he’s closer. He shook his head at you, full of intrigue. In an instant, his massive knee brushes yours under the bar, his breath teasing your ear as he murmurs, 

“You’re drunk. That liquid courage’s talkin’ for you.”

Your fingers trail up his forearm, slow, deliberate. “And what if it’s not?”

He watches you, blue–green eyes dark and unreadable, his lips hovering just out of reach. The tension hums between you, thick and charged, like a wire stretched too tight. You swear the whole bar fades away, until it’s just the two of you and the heat simmering between your bodies. 

All of the noise from the bar counter, the clinking glasses of little cheers, the other patrons dancing and singing, being the obnoxious humans they were. None of that truly ever mattered t at that moment. Toji tilts his head, considering. Then, just as slowly, he pulls back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Tempting, isn’t it?” he murmurs, tossing back the last of his drink. “But you’d regret it.”

Your stomach twists—frustration? Curiosity? Maybe it was a little of both. “And what if I wouldn’t?”

He smirks, standing from his stool. He towers over you, his presence alone enough to make your breath hitch. “Then that would be even worse.”

“You make it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world.” You hiccuped in reply.

He snickers back at you as he taps two fingers against the bar, signaling for another drink before glancing down at you one last time, his gaze lingering. “Drink some water, doll. Clear that head of yours. An assassin can’t let their guard down.” 

You exhale, heart pounding against your ribs.

Well, damn.

You don’t think. 

You just move.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. It was like he’s already decided you’re trouble, but he’s entertained enough to stick around and see what kind. Maybe it’s just that you don’t want to let this moment slip away, not when the air between you is crackling, thick with something sharp and wanting.

So when he turns away, you reach out, fingers curling around his wrist—firm but not desperate. Just enough to make him pause. He looks down at your hand, then back at you, one brow quirking up in silent question.

And then you kiss him.

You don’t even give him a chance to smirk, to throw some smug remark about how bold you are. You just let go. You just go for it. Your lips press against his, the taste of whiskey and smoke flooding your senses, and for a second, he doesn’t move. 

It’s like he’s caught off guard, like you actually surprised him. But then—then—he takes a moment to exhale a quiet grunt, and his hand is suddenly on your waist, pulling you in just enough to keep you steady.

The kiss is messy, a little too eager, too animalistic. But you don’t care. You can feel the curve of his smirk against your lips, the way he lets you take the lead just long enough to lull you into a false sense of control. Because then, he takes it back.

Fushiguro Toji kisses like he fights. And he liked it that way. It was all too sharp, and devoid of mercy. It was deliberate, like he knows exactly where to hit to make you weak. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he deepens it, tongue sliding against yours, and fuck, you’re dizzy all over again, but this time it has nothing to do with the alcohol.

His fingers dig into your waist, pulling you flush against him, and it sends a spark straight down your spine. He tastes dangerous, and it makes your head spin worse than any drink. And then just as suddenly as he let you have him, he pulled back.

You’re left breathless, your lips tingling, your pulse hammering. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, looking entirely too amused, like he just figured something out about you that even you didn’t know.

His thumb brushes over your lip, slow, lazy. “Huh.” he murmurs, voice husky. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You swallow hard, trying to regain your balance. “Yeah, well… maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

He chuckles, low and deep, thumb still idly tracing your lip like he’s considering whether he wants another taste. “Maybe not, doll.” he agrees, stepping back.

“What are you thinking now?”

His grip lingers just a second too long before he finally lets go. He slyly smiles at you. “I’m startin’ to think I should.”

You should say something witty, something cocky, anything to keep this game going but your brain is still scrambling from the way he kissed you like he was meant to. Toji smirks like he can see exactly what he did to you. Then, with one last lingering look, he turns back toward the bar, tossing a few bills down before sliding his hands into his pockets.

“You comin’, or you just gonna sit there lookin’ dazed?”

Your breath catches. “Where to?”

He glances at you over his shoulder. “Outta here,” he says simply. “Unless you just wanted a kiss and nothin’ more, doll.”

It’s a challenge. A dare. One you have no intention of backing down from. You slide off the stool, shaking off whatever remains of your hesitation, and follow him to wherever he was taking you. After all, you realized you were crazy. You might as well act like crazy, too.

IT DIDN’T TAKE VERY LONG FOR YOU TO END UP WHERE YOU WERE. You and Toji slipped away from the crowded room, making your way to the nearby comfort room. As soon as the door closed behind you, Toji pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. 

His hands roamed your body, gripping and squeezing as he pressed his hips against yours.You could feel his hardness through his pants, grinding against your core. Toji's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.

"Someone’s getting quite impatient, isn’t she?" he murmured against your throat, his voice husky with desire. His hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts.

Your hands tangled in Toji's hair, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, dueling with yours in a passionate dance. Toji's fingers deftly unhooked your bra, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. He kneaded the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing against your hardening nipples.

A moan escaped your lips, your hips bucking against his. Toji's other hand slid down, popping the button of your jeans and slipping inside. His fingers brushed against your core, finding you already wet with desire

"Fuck, you're so ready for me, aren’t you?" Toji groaned, his breath hot against your skin, his voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your clit, the deliberate motion sending sparks of pleasure crackling through your nerves.

He didn’t just touch you, no. He consumed you whole. He commanded your body, every movement calculated to pull a reaction from you. And he got it. A sharp gasp, a desperate arch of your hips, a needy little whimper that only made his smirk deepen.

He pushed two fingers inside you, the stretch delicious and unrelenting. The slow, slick glide of them made you shudder, your walls tightening around him instinctively. His touch was maddening and all the while measured, knowing, dragging pleasure out of you inch by inch.

“Can you feel it?” he murmured, voice like gravel, like temptation itself. His thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, his fingers curling just right. “Feel how wet you already are? Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight.”

"Hhnnn… your fingers feel so good…” you cooed against him, voice breathy, barely there, your mind slipping under the weight of sensation. “Toji…..fuck…..”

Toji chuckled, low and rough, his amusement edged with something darker—something possessive. "Yeah? Then take ‘em."

His fingers plunged deeper, stretching, stroking, his pace quickening with a ruthless precision. Every twist, every push, every brush against that perfect spot sent you unraveling further. Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter, climbing toward an inevitable, overwhelming crescendo.

Toji’s lips ghosted over your ear, his voice nothing but a sinful whisper. “Let me hear you, baby. I wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

His fingers moved with unrelenting precision, pushing deeper, curling just right, stroking over that devastatingly sensitive spot that made your breath catch. Every motion was deliberate, every flick of his wrist measured to wring another shudder from you.

The heat in your core coiled tighter, pleasure winding sharp and insistent. Your legs trembled, muscles clenching, but Toji wasn’t about to let you squirm away. His free hand pressed against your stomach, pinning you down, his grip firm all too possessive.

"You’re so desperate for it," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, with something darker. "Fucking clenching around me like you’re already close."

A whimper slipped past your lips, and Toji chuckled, the sound rough, pleased. His breath ghosted over your ear, teasing, taunting. "Gonna come for me just like this?" His thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling with slow, devastating intent. "Or do you need more?"

Your body answered before your lips could. Your back arched, fingers grasping for something—anything—to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensation. But Fushiguro Toji had you exactly where he wanted you, held firm in his grasp, unraveling beneath his touch.

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, voice a husky whisper. "Go on, baby. Let me feel it."

The pressure inside you snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling, breathless. Toji held you through it, drawing out every last shudder, his fingers working you through the aftershocks, never once letting up.

When he finally withdrew, his fingers slick and glistening, he brought them to his lips, watching you with that same lazy smirk. The one that sent heat pooling low in your stomach all over again. He sucked them into his mouth, tasting every bit of you with a satisfied hum.

Toji then dragged his cum stained fingers down your thigh, his touch deliberate, lingering, as if savoring the way your body still trembled beneath him. His smirk never wavered, that lazy confidence settling deep in his stance, in the sharp glint of his eyes.

"You look real pretty when you come, pretty." he mused, voice low and rough, like he was speaking more to himself than to you. His gaze flicked over you—your parted lips, the rise and fall of your chest, the dazed look in your eyes. "Bet you’d look even prettier coming on my cock."

The way he said it, like a promise, like an inevitability, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. It was all too much, this sensation. You’ve never truly felt it before, not even with your other partners. Fushiguro Toji was the first to take you down this path. 

“But I’m not giving it to you easily, doll.” He smiles at you, overtly sadistic. “You gotta work for it, hm?”

“Toji, this is so cruel!”

He laughs. “But isn’t that how pleasure works? You gotta earn it.”

“But I’m desperate!”

"Tell me, doll." he murmured, fingers tracing up your inner thigh, stopping just shy of where you needed him most. "You want more, don’t you?"

You stared at him for a while, groaning as he got to your cunny again.

Your breath hitched, your hips shifting toward his touch on instinct. 

But Toji only chuckled, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still.

"Use your words, doll." he coaxed, his thumb ghosting over your already swollen clit, featherlight, teasing. "You begged so sweetly before. Let me hear it again."

Your pulse pounded, every nerve alight, but he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted so easily. You know that now. He wanted to hear you say it, to watch you squirm, to make you admit just how badly you needed him.

"Please…" The word came out breathless, barely there.

Toji hummed, tilting his head like he was considering whether or not to give you what you wanted. "Mmm. That’s not enough, sweetheart." His fingers flexed against your thigh. "Tell me exactly what you need."

You swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck. 

He was enjoying everything about this situation.

He liked this, how he was dragging it out, making you work for it.

"I need you, you bastard." you finally admitted, voice unsteady but desperate, raw. "I need you inside me. Please, Toji."

Something dark and satisfied flickered across his face, and in an instant, his teasing patience snapped. "That’s more like it, doll." he growled.

Your breath hitched as Toji held you there, his grip firm, unyielding, like he had all the time in the world to savor this moment, to savor you. His thick, calloused fingers pressed deeper into your hips, holding you steady beneath him, his touch branding you, leaving no room for escape. Not that you wanted one.

His lips ghosted over your jaw, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “Takin’ me so well again. You’re such a good girl.” he murmured, his voice deep, rough around the edges, like he was barely holding himself back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

The question hung between you, thick with expectation, and you couldn’t do anything but nod, your body taut with anticipation, with need. But it was obvious that this wasn’t enough for him just yet, no. He still wanted more. And you still did too, pushing against his long massive fingers, letting the edge of pleasure hit you again in the pandemonium of overstimulation.

“Say it.” Toji ordered, his tone carrying that unmistakable edge, a command wrapped in dark amusement. He wanted to hear it, to pull the words from your lips just like he pulled every other reaction from your body.

Your fingers curled against his arms, nails digging into the hard muscle there, seeking something to anchor yourself to as you gasped out, “Feels—feels so good, Toji.”

A low, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. “That’s my pretty girl.”

His movements were deliberate, controlled, a stark contrast to the raw hunger in his eyes. He wanted to see you come undone beneath him, to watch every tremor of pleasure ripple through your body. His thumb found your clit, circling in slow, devastating strokes that made your breath hitch, made you gasp his name like a prayer.

Toji leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice nothing but a dark promise. “Now show me something beautiful, doll.”

The dark haired man’s fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your pleasure. His thumb circled your clit, the sensitive nub throbbing under his touch. Your body shuddered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

"Fuck, you're so responsive, aren’t you?" Toji groaned, his voice strained with desire. His fingers pumped slowly, gentler now, as he helped you ride out the final waves of your second orgasm. "That's it, baby. Let go for me."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue danced with yours, swallowing your moans and cries of pleasure. As your overbearing orgasm finally subsided, Toji's fingers withdrew slowly, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more. His eyes, dark with lust, met yours.

"You okay?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. "More than okay." you murmured, a satisfied smile on your lips.

Toji's grin was wicked, his hand sliding up your thigh. "Good, because we're just getting started." 

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you over to the nearby counter. He set you down, stepping between your legs. Toji's lips crashed against yours, his kiss demanding and passionate. His hands roamed your body, touching and teasing every inch.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, doll." he promised, his voice low and husky."I'm going to make you scream my name."

His fingers slowly hooked into the waistband of your skirt, tugging them down along with your already wet underwear, He narrowed his eyes at the wetness that stained your underwear. You watched as Toji's eyes darkened further as he then took in the sight of you, bare and exposed.

“Tell me, pretty little doll……What do you want? Say it for me, loud and clear.”

You barely had the breath to answer. “Please… make me feel good.” Your voice trembled, your hips rocking into his touch, desperate for more. “I need you inside me. I need your cock.”

Something dark flickered behind his blue–green eyes, endless hunger twisting his expression into something wicked. A slow smirk stretched his lips. “With pleasure.” he growled, pulling his fingers from you.

Toji stripped away his lower garments, his thick cock springing free from its confines, hard and heavy against his abdomen. The sight alone had your mouth running dry. He stepped between your legs, the head of his cock teasing your entrance, dragging slick over your swollen folds.

His fingers dug into your hips, hard enough to bruise. “Look at me, pretty doll.” he ordered, voice edged with command. “I wanna see your face when I stretch you open.”

You met his gaze just as he thrust forward, spearing you open in one swift stroke. The stretch burned, a mix of pain and unbearable pleasure, your walls squeezing around his thick length as he filled you to the hilt. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your head knocking back against the counter, legs trembling from the force of it.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Toji groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second as he fought for control. “Feel so good wrapped around me like this.”

He pulled back, only to slam forward again, setting a slow, punishing rhythm. Each thrust was deep, measured, deliberate. It was driving the air from your lungs, sending shockwaves of sensation through every nerve ending.

The room filled with the obscene sound of skin meeting skin, your moans tangled with his rough grunts. Toji leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and guttural. “You like this, don’t you?” 

“F….fu…..I–I do! I…I liiiiikeeee—”

His teeth grazed your earlobe before he sucked it between his lips. “Like being fucked open on my cock?”

The filthy words sent a violent shudder through your body, your walls clenching around him in response. Toji could feel it overwhelm him. He felt everything. A growl ripped from his chest as his pace turned brutal, desperate.

His hips slamming into yours with enough force to jolt the counter beneath you. One hand slipped between your bodies, his calloused fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough circles that sent you hurtling toward the edge.

“Come for me, pretty doll.” he commanded, voice strained, raw, demanding. “Come all over my cock.”

It was too much for you to even bear. It was all too good, all too intense, all too overwhelming. You could feel everything in your body tightening, pleasure coiling sharp and hot in your core before snapping all at once. 

Toji's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise and burn. His thrusts became more aggressive, each snap of his hips driving into you with a brutal force that stole the air from your lungs. 

The shitty counter creaked beneath you, the heavy sound of its movement mingling with your cries of pleasure and pain. Toji's breath came in ragged pants against your neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin.

"You're mine now, aren’t you?"he growled possessively, his voice low and dangerous. "Say it."

His hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. His other hand slid down to grip your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You could feel drool sliding down both sides of your lips as you shook over and over again against his intense movements.

"Say you're mine." His hips pounded into you relentlessly, his cock hitting your deepest spots with merciless precision. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation, your body shaking with each thrust.

"Please..." you gasped, your voice hoarse and strained. Toji's eyes flashed with a mix of desire and dominance. 

"Please what?" he demanded, his thrusts slowing to a torturous pace. "Tell me what you need."

His grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back further. His thumb pressed against your lips, forcing them open. "Beg for it."

Your heart raced, your body trembling with a heady mix of fear and arousal. The dominant side of Fushiguro Toji was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. It made you wet and it made you on your guard. It made you want to be possessed and it made you want to be let go. And yet, you knew what you would choose. You knew what you wanted more than being free.

"Please..." you whispered again, your tongue darting out to lick his thumb. "Fuck me harder. Use me. Make me yours."

A wicked grin spreads brutishly across Toji's face, his blue–green eyes darkened with lust at the sight of your surrender to him, to your lust. To his pleasure. To the horridness and the craziness of all of this.

"Good girl." he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. 

Without warning, he pulled out, only to flip you over onto your stomach. And then all the strength of him, pushed his weight on you once again and pushed inside, earning an illicit moan from you, that now repeats like a symphony.

Toji gripped your hips, pulling them up to meet his thrusts. His hand cracked across your ass, the sting mixing with the pleasure coursing through your veins. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky.

"Like being punished for being such a greedy little slut." His hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt.He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your ear.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight, doll." he promised, his words sending shivers down your spine."Until the only thing you can think about is my cock."

His fingers dug into your hips, his pace becoming more frenzied. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and Toji's grunts of pleasure. He reached around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. 

"Come for me." He whispers hotly against your ears. “Go on, be a good girl, doll.”

“I–I can’t!” You cried out, slurring at your words as you moved against him, letting his pace ruin you. “Too….Too good, fucccckkkkk!”

"Do it, doll. Be a good girl f’r me." Toji demanded, his fingers moving faster against your clit. "I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you come apart."

His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing ragged against your neck. He bit down on your shoulder, marking you as his.The combination of sensations was overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge.Your body tensed, your inner walls clamping down on Toji's length.

"That's it, pretty girl!" he growled, his hips pistoning into you. "Come on my cock. Now."

His command was all it took to send you spiraling over the precipice. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Toji's hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself deep as he found his own release. He groaned loudly, his hot seed filling you up, one thrust after the other.

The air was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and sex still lingering in the dimly lit comfort room of the assassin’s bar. Your legs felt like jelly, like your entire body was going to collapse from the force of his push and pull.

You could feel your body still humming from the intensity of what just happened, yet Fushiguro Toji, the absolute menace that he was, looked completely unbothered about it. It was like he hadn’t just rearranged your entire existence against a suspiciously sturdy sink in this bar comfort room.

His breath was still rather heavy, his body slick with piling golden sweat, but his lazy smirk was back in full force as he finally pulled away. He cracked his neck, stretched like he’d just finished a workout, then gave you a once-over, his green eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Damn.” he muttered, running a hand through his damp dark hair. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

You glared at him, or at least tried to, but your legs wobbled the moment you moved, forcing you to grip the sink for support. Toji, ever the bastard, caught it immediately. “I hate you.”

His grin widened. “Aw, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Legs ain’t workin’?”

Your eye twitched. “You—shut up.”

Toji laughed, full and deep, the sound bouncing off the grimy tiled walls. “Tch, that’s what happens when you get greedy, doll.” he mused, zipping up his pants with a satisfied hum. “Didn’t expect you to be such a lil’ freak, though.”

Your face burned, but before you could snap back, a loud bang rattled the door. “OI, HURRY THE FUCK UP!” a voice bellowed from the other side. “Some of us actually need to piss, y’know!”

Oh. Right. The fact that you were in a goddamn assassin’s bar and had just let Fushiguro Toji ruin you and rearrange your guts in the bar comfort room like a couple of horny teenagers had completely slipped your mind. 

The depths of the alcohol you had drunk tonight had long slipped away from you and now you were sober. The wanton greed from you had all but disappeared and only replaced by the embarrassment you feel. 

You whipped around, hurriedly smoothing down your clothes, heart hammering in mortification. Still trying to make sure his cum doesn’t spill from your thighs, still trying to make yourself presentable. 

Meanwhile, Toji took his sweet time adjusting himself and his pants, looking completely unbothered. He even had the audacity to yawn. “Hold your damn horses, you idiots.” he called out lazily. “Some of us were busy.”

Loud groans and swearing erupted from the other side, followed by someone grumbling, “I swear to god, if they clogged the sink again—”

You nearly choked. “Again? What the fuck does that mean, Fushiguro?”

Toji snorted, tossing you a smug look. “Told ya, this ain’t my first time in here for a round. It's always casual. Or crazy Or both. Whichever is preferred.”

You gaped at him, scandalized. “You absolute piece of shit! You fucked me here—”

Another furious bang cut you off, and this time, the doorknob actually rattled. “I SWEAR TO FUCK, IF YOU TWO DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR—”

Toji just laughed, grabbing your wrist before you could fully process what was happening. “Time to go, doll.”

And just like that, he swung the door open, stepping out like he didn’t just defile the bar’s restroom, greeting the pissed-off assassins outside with a lazy smirk and a casual, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You, on the other hand, nearly tripped over yourself as you followed, trying very hard to ignore the furious glares of the men who had just spent the last twenty minutes listening to your, uh… indiscretions. Toji slung an arm around your shoulders, leading you back toward the bar like it was just another regular night.

“You’re buying the next round.” you grumbled under your breath, face still burning. “And get me new underwear and pants, you fiend.”

Toji grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple like an asshole. “Worth it, though.”

You elbowed him in the ribs.

He only laughed harder.

[wvyik]

nsfw alphabet. d.w. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

dean winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: my take on the infamous NSFW alphabet where each letter represents a different aspect of dean’s passionate, playful, and sometimes possessive side!

⤿ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, mature themes, adult language, graphic sexual content, explicit descriptions of intimacy, kinky stuff, possessiveness, lowkey fluffy, sub! dean at times, but mostly dom! dean.

⤿ notes: here’s the template i used!! (slightly tweaked it) tbh i love writing headcanons sm im thinking of posting them more often. let me know if you liked this format!! at SOME points i lost the plot and wrote a whole ass fic.. but hey. this is my first time.

A = AFTERCARE..

After a night of passion, Dean’s first instinct is always to make sure you’re okay. He’s gentle, tender, almost like he’s still in awe of you. He’ll pull you close, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, running his fingers through your hair as he mutters soft words of reassurance. Even in the aftermath of something intense, he needs you to know you’re safe, that you’re everything to him. He’s not about that “wham-bam” stuff. He’ll get you a glass of water, make sure you’re comfortable, and maybe even wrap you in a blanket while he quietly watches over you, his thumb tracing circles on your skin as you both catch your breath.

He’s the type to make it feel like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, and even though he’s usually tough and rugged, with you, he’s all heart. It’s about comfort, care, and making sure you feel cherished. It’s his way of showing that the connection doesn’t end after the heat of the moment; it only deepens.

B = BODY PART..

Dean’s hands— they’re his favorite body part, and not just because they’re strong or capable. No, it’s the way they feel when they’re touching you, when they’re pulling you closer, slipping under the fabric of your clothes, and tracing the softest parts of your skin. When it’s just the two of you, alone in that quiet space, his hands will roam over your body with purpose. He’s all about the slow burn, his fingertips brushing across your neck, making your breath hitch as he dips lower to the curve of your waist. He’ll take his time, working you up, feeling every inch of you as if he’s memorizing you, ensuring you’re completely in his control.

As for his favorite part of you? Dean can’t stop thinking about your thighs. When you’re alone, he’ll have you straddling him, your legs wrapped around his waist as he slowly moves against you, feeling the heat building between you two. Your thighs are soft, but firm, the perfect balance of strength and vulnerability, and when you press them together, it’s like a promise of something hotter. His hands will travel down, gripping your thighs, pulling you closer until he can feel every inch of you moving against him. He’s obsessed with the way your body reacts to him; your thighs pressing tightly against his sides as you rock against him, your breath shaky, your skin heated under his touch. He’s rough when he wants to be, but in those moments, when it’s just the two of you, he’ll make sure everything is slow, deliberate. Each kiss, each touch, each movement a way of savoring you.

C = CUM..

His favorite spot to cum is definitely inside of you.. Not just for the convenience of making less of a mess— it just feels way more personal. When Dean finally hits that point, it’s like everything just snaps. His hands are gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you down on him. He’s moving deep, hard, every thrust bringing him closer to the edge. He can feel himself losing control as his body trembles, and when he finally releases, it’s rough and intense. You can feel it, that pulse deep inside you, as he’s coming undone, his grip tightening, his body jerking with each wave.

He’s not shy about it either.. he’ll tell you how good it feels, how he can’t stop because you’re just too good to let go of. And when he’s done, there’s no shame, he’s all over you, holding you close, whispering how amazing you are, not wanting to let you go even for a second. Dean’s the type to make sure you’re completely satisfied, whether that’s with kisses, gentle touches, or reminding you how much you mean to him, even after that intense release.

He’ll want to stay inside you for just a little longer, feeling that connection, letting everything settle between the two of you. But it’s not just about the act; it’s about the way he’s completely consumed by you, how every touch and every moan is for you, how your body makes him lose control in the best way.

Dean’s not just about taking; he’s all about giving too. When he’s got you underneath him, lips brushing along your neck, his hands guiding you as he kisses down your body, he knows exactly what he’s doing. His eyes are on you the whole time— he loves watching the way your body reacts to his touch, how your breath hitches as he moves lower.

When he finally gets to your thighs, he’ll take his time, teasing with his tongue, pressing soft kisses against your skin, before finally kissing that sensitive spot. He’ll take his time with you, making you feel like you’re the most important thing in the world. His tongue moves with purpose, driving you crazy, circling and flicking just the right way, making sure you’re feeling every bit of pleasure.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he’ll growl, barely able to hold back as he keeps moving, pushing you closer to the edge. He won’t stop until you’re breathless, trembling underneath him. He’ll make sure you hit that release, his lips and tongue working together, guiding you to that explosive moment. And when you’re finally lost, when your body spasms from that climax, he’s right there, feeling it with you, never stopping, never pulling away.

When Dean’s on the receiving end, you better believe he’s not quiet about it. He’s all about that slow, intense pleasure, and when you start to make your way down his body, his breath catches in his chest, a low groan escaping him. His eyes are on you, heat in his gaze, as his hands rest in your hair, but he’s not pulling you— he’s letting you take your time. He loves the anticipation, the slow build-up as you tease him, running your hands along his thighs, giving him just enough to drive him wild.

“C’mon, baby, don’t make me wait,” he’ll tell you, voice hoarse, his patience wearing thin as you hover just above him. But he loves the feeling of you taking control, how your mouth makes him lose himself in you. When you finally take him into your mouth, he’s lost. His head falls back, a moan slipping from his lips as he tries to hold it together. You know how to move, how to make him feel like he’s in heaven, your tongue working its magic as you make him see stars.

Dean’s not the kind to just lay back, though. His hips start to move with the rhythm, not in a desperate way, but in sync with your movements. His hands will grip your hair, gently guiding you, wanting to feel all of it. When you take him deep, he can’t help but let out a low curse under his breath, his body shuddering with pleasure. “Fuck, that feels so good,” he’ll mutter, completely lost in the sensation of you giving him everything.

When he’s close, he’ll tell you, voice rough and strained, “I’m gonna—shit—I’m close.” But he won’t rush it. He wants to savor it. He wants to make sure you’re giving him your full attention until he’s at his breaking point. And when he finally reaches that edge, when he’s spilling into your mouth, it’s pure bliss for him. The way you take it all, the way you look up at him with those hungry eyes; it’s too much for him to handle, and he can’t stop the way his body trembles with the release.

D = DIRTY SECRET..

Dean’s dirty secret? It’s not something he just tells you about. It’s something he keeps tucked away, buried deep beneath the tough guy act. But you start to realize it when you’re alone, when it’s just the two of you in the quiet of a motel room, the world outside forgotten.

Dean’s secret is that he loves when you take control, when you push him to his limits and make him beg for it. Most people would never guess it. Hell, Dean barely acknowledges it himself, but you see the way he looks at you sometimes, like he’s waiting for you to take the reins. It’s the way his voice goes low and rough when he whispers your name, the way his body stiffens in anticipation when you shift on top of him, taking charge. It’s the way he fights it, but you know— he’s completely fucking powerless when you take control.

He’s not used to it. Dean’s the one who’s always in charge, the one with the power in every situation. But with you? He’s different. He loves being dominated by you, in that subtle, almost teasing way. He loves it when you pin him down, when you whisper dirty things in his ear that make his heart race. He loves when you don’t let him speak, when you kiss him so hard he can barely breathe, all while you keep him trapped beneath you.

But the thing is, he doesn’t want to admit it, not to you, and especially not to anyone else. It’s his dirty little secret, the thing that’s so out of character for him. He’s too proud to openly admit that sometimes, he craves to be the one controlled, the one who’s helpless to your touch. But deep down, he knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and it drives him wild that he can’t stop wanting it.

E = EXPERIENCE..

Dean’s very experienced. This man’s been around the block a few times. He’s been in all kinds of situations, with all types of people, and let’s just say, he knows exactly what he’s doing. But here’s the thing— his experience isn’t just about the physical stuff; it’s about reading people, knowing how to make them feel wanted and understood. He’s learned what works, what doesn’t, and how to please a partner in ways that make them melt.

He knows how to take his time, how to build that tension, and when to slow things down. He’s got that natural rhythm that’s just right, making sure you’re comfortable, but also giving you exactly what you need when it comes to your desires. And when it comes to giving or receiving, he’s all about the details; the gentle touches, the teasing, the deep, intense moments. There’s no awkwardness with him. He knows when to press, when to pull back, and when to take things to the next level.

But don’t get it twisted, he’s not cocky about it. His experience comes from years of both hunting and dealing with personal stuff, and there’s something about his confidence that makes him so good at pleasing. He’s been around enough to know how to handle things, but with you, it’s not just about getting off. He wants to make sure you’re satisfied— emotionally and physically. He’s all in when it comes to giving you a good time, even if he keeps it cool on the outside.

Of course, there’s a soft spot when it comes to you. Because with the way Dean feels for you, he’d want to make sure everything is perfect. All that experience? It’s used in service of you, babe, making you feel like you’re the only person who matters. And trust me, when he’s focused on you, he’s a damn expert at making you feel amazing.

In a nutshell: Yes, Dean knows what he’s doing. He’s got the experience to back it up, and he uses it to keep you hooked, wanting more every single time.

F = FAVORITE POSITION..

It’s definitely the one where he’s in full control, making sure you’re completely at his mercy, but let’s be real, he likes mixing it up depending on how the night’s going. His go-to? Probably doggy style, hands down.

When he’s got you in that position, he gets to see everything.. every little movement you make, every expression that crosses your face. It drives him wild knowing he’s the one causing it. He’ll grip your hips, pulling you back into him as he takes his time, slow and deep. The way your body reacts under him? It’s like pure music to his ears, and that view? It drives him insane. He loves feeling you clench around him, knowing that every thrust makes you feel it even more.

But that’s not all; Dean’s also big on missionary when he’s feeling extra connected. He likes to look you in the eye, making sure you’re completely focused on him, feeling every inch of the connection. That intimate, slow, and powerful rhythm where he can feel your heart racing beneath his, his hands tracing your curves as he moves inside you— that’s when things get real intense.

And when he wants to switch it up, he doesn’t mind getting a little rough with you, flipping you over, having you straddle him or him taking you from behind while you’re bent over a surface— whatever drives the mood. The chemistry between you two? It makes him want to explore every possible position, and he’s down to try new things, especially when it means making sure you’re both satisfied.

At the end of the day, Dean’s favorite position is the one that makes you feel like you’re his, but it’s not about being possessive. It’s about that perfect connection. It’s about that sweet balance of passion and control. And trust me, he’s got plenty of ways to show it.

G = GOOFY..

Dean can definitely get a little goofy in the moment, especially when he feels comfortable with you. It’s like he knows he can let his guard down and just be himself. While he’s definitely the type to take charge and keep things intense, he’s got that playful side that comes out in the heat of the moment.

Sometimes, when things get heated and you’re both in the middle of it, he’ll throw in a cheeky comment just to make you laugh. He might tease you with a quick “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” or a smug little smirk while you’re on top of him, making sure he’s enjoying every second. His confidence lets him crack those playful jokes because he knows he’s got you hooked; and he loves seeing you blush when he gets a little too cheeky.

But it’s not all about jokes. Dean can also get a little goofy in the way he teases you physically. Light, playful taps on your ass, or that sexy growl he uses when he’s trying to rile you up. He’s got that natural, smooth way of mixing humor and passion that keeps you on your toes. He might even act like he’s serious at first, but then that mischievous grin pops out, showing you he’s not taking things too seriously.

It’s in the little moments— the way he’ll whisper something ridiculously sweet in your ear, only to follow it up with something teasing, like “Who’s the lucky one now?” He can switch between being intense and ridiculously charming in a second, making you laugh one moment, then melt the next.

But when it’s time to get serious, Dean knows how to flip the switch. If things get more intimate or passionate, that goofy side fades into the background, and he’s all about the connection. But even then, you’ll catch those little glimpses of humor, the way he looks at you with that playful glint in his eye, showing he’s not completely lost in the moment, he’s just enjoying it with you.

So, yeah, while he’s definitely got that serious, dominant energy, Dean’s no stranger to being goofy when the mood strikes. And honestly? It’s part of the fun. It keeps the vibe light, playful, and even more intimate. That mix of humor and intensity? It makes the connection between you two even hotter.

H = HAIR..

Okay.. Let’s start with Dean’s head. His hair? As we know; always on point. He’s got that signature messy, just-out-of-bed look that somehow always looks perfect. He keeps it clean, but a little rugged— like he doesn’t care, but deep down, you know he’s putting in just enough effort to keep it looking good. That shaggy, chocolate brown mess of hair frames his face in the best way, and he’s definitely not afraid to run his fingers through it when he’s frustrated; or when he’s trying to look extra good for you.

Now, when it comes to down there, oh yeah, Dean keeps himself trimmed. He’s not the type to go completely bald, but he definitely takes care of business. He keeps things neat, a little shorter, so everything’s clean and ready to go when it’s time for action. It’s just the right amount of scruff, leaving enough to tease, but nothing over the top. Dean’s all about being practical, but he’s also aware of how much it adds to the vibe. He knows exactly what works for him and what makes his partner want more.

Well, we already know Dean’s got that signature rugged, manly look, and it shows down there too. He keeps the hair trimmed but not overly maintained, just enough to keep it real— natural, just like him. The way he takes care of himself shows that he’s confident in his own skin, but he’s not obsessing over perfection. So.. the carpet may not match the drapes exactly, but damn, it’s a close call— because Dean doesn’t do anything halfway. It’s got that perfect balance of masculine and a bit of a secret that only you get to see, something that makes you want to dive deeper, take your time, and just worship every inch of him.

As for you, being completely honest— He wants to feel the texture when his lips press against your skin, that slight pull of hair beneath his lips as he moves lower. The perfect amount; not too much, not too little. When he feels the light trim and the soft brush of it against his fingers or mouth, it drives him wild. He might tease you about it when he’s between your legs, maybe give a little chuckle before running his fingers through the soft, trimmed hair, and whispering “God, you know this is exactly how I like it” as he looks up at you, hungry eyes burning with desire.

If you’re the type who prefers to keep things smooth, that’s good too. Because when Dean’s down there, he’s all about pleasure, and he’ll take his time, loving every inch of you. But give him just a hint of natural with a little softness, and that’s his weakness. He’ll get lost in the feeling of your skin, fingers grazing over every curve, savoring the way the hair feels when it’s just enough to give him that little extra something. It drives him crazy when you arch your back, a slight gasp escaping your lips, all because he’s finding that sweet spot— the perfect mix of rough and smooth, like he’s savoring the experience of you more than just the action itself.

Dean’s preference isn’t about rules, it’s about what turns him on— and you’re turning him on anyway. Whether you like a clean, smooth look or a little natural fuzz, he’s just as obsessed with how you feel about it. But if you’re asking him, that little hint of trim? It’s just the right level of perfection to make him lose control.

I = INTIMACY..

Dean might have that tough, gruff exterior, but when it comes to intimacy? He’s got a side to him that will absolutely melt you. It’s not just about the physical, rough and wild moments (though those definitely exist)— it’s about how he makes you feel in those quiet, tender moments between. When you two are wrapped up in each other, it’s like the world disappears.

He’s the type who can’t help but stare at you with that softness in his eyes when he’s touching you; gently running his hands up your arms, tracing your jaw, just taking you in like he can’t believe you’re actually there with him. There’s this feeling he gives off, like he’s not just having sex, but connecting with you on a level that means so much more than just the physical release. He’s completely present.

When he’s inside you, it’s like he’s not in a rush, savoring every inch of the moment. There’s no slamming or pushing for a fast release. Dean’s all about drawing out the sensations, making sure you’re feeling every single second of him. Whether it’s kissing you deeply, whispering sweet things in your ear, or taking the time to gently stroke your body while he’s inside you, it’s all about showing you just how much you mean to him in that moment.

Dean doesn’t need to say a word to make you feel loved. His hands, the way he looks at you, the way he moves; it all speaks louder than anything he could say. His kisses are deep, passionate, but with that soft, tender edge that shows he cares. He’s not just trying to get off; he’s trying to make you feel everything in that moment. Every caress is deliberate, every movement intentional.

When he pulls you close after, he’ll hold you in his arms like you’re his world, his heartbeat steady against yours, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin. He’s always checking in with you, making sure you’re okay, both physically and emotionally. It’s that soft, romantic side of him that you rarely get to see, but when it’s just you and him? That’s when he shows you all the affection and love he’s been hiding under his tough exterior.

Intimacy with Dean is a beautiful mix of gentle passion and heart-stopping moments. He’ll bring you closer, make you feel desired in ways you didn’t even know you needed, and leave you breathless with every second of it. But it’s never just about the sex— it’s about him connecting with you, body and soul, and making you feel like you’re the most important thing in his world.

J = JACK OFF..

Dean’s a man of many talents, and when he’s alone? He’s not shy about taking care of his own needs. Let’s be real: the man’s got a lot of built-up tension, and he knows how to relieve it.

Dean’s not a guy who needs to jerk off all the time, but if he’s been going through a stretch where he’s missing you or hasn’t been able to see you in a while, he’s definitely going to be indulging a little more frequently. If he’s on the road, and he’s away from you for a few days, you can bet that he’s getting in at least a few sessions, or when things have been tense between the two of you— he’s not going to forget about how much he wants you.

But it’s not just about quick relief.. it’s about thinking of you. It’s those moments when he’s missing you, or when he’s worked up after seeing you earlier, maybe after a steamy, flirtatious interaction.

When he’s in the mood, Dean doesn’t rush it. He’s got that slow, deliberate rhythm as he strokes himself, thinking about you. He’s imagining your body beneath his, your moans in his ear, your hands gripping his back as he takes you deeper. He’ll bite his lip, letting his thoughts of you fuel the fire, and if he’s really worked up, he might even mumble your name, like it’s a prayer that makes him hit that spot just right.

Dean knows exactly how to handle himself. His hand moves with just the right pressure, and his breaths get quicker, heavier, as his thoughts go straight to you; how you feel, how you look when you’re under him. He might even get a little rougher with himself when he’s thinking of you taking control or teasing him.

But when he’s about to come? It’s like his mind flashes to those intimate moments with you— the way your body shudders beneath his touch, how you look when you’re lost in pleasure. He’ll let out a groan, quick and low, as he finally releases, knowing exactly how much he wants you, how needy he’s gotten for you. And afterward? You can bet he’s not ashamed. He’s used to getting his hands dirty, but he’ll always clean up and shake it off like it’s just part of the job.

So yeah, Dean gets off on his own, but it’s always with you in mind, a little fantasy to keep the fire burning when you’re not around.

K = KINK..

Dean’s a man who’s lived through a lot, and he’s had his fair share of experiences, both good and bad. So, when it comes to his kinks, he’s definitely someone who knows what he likes, and he’s open to a bit of variety. His kinks are rooted in power dynamics, control, and a deep desire to connect, but with that edge of raw, primal energy. Here’s a taste of what gets him going:

Power Play: Dean’s a man who likes to be in control, especially when things get heated. He loves the way you melt under his touch, how your body responds to him taking charge. Whether it’s gently pushing you down on the bed or pinning you against the wall, Dean gets a thrill out of seeing you submit to him. But don’t think he’s all about dominating the moment— it’s about mutual control. He’ll let you take the reins when it suits, but only when he’s good and ready for it.

Biting: Dean is into the idea of claiming you. He’s not afraid to bite, nip, or mark you with hickeys. It’s about showing everyone that you’re his. He wants to leave his mark on your body, something that says, ‘Yeah, you belong to me’, but it’s also a sign that you’re his desire. When he bites your neck, pulls you closer, or marks your inner thighs, it’s all about showing you that you belong to him in more ways than one.

Roleplay: Honestly? I think Dean’s got a thing for slipping into different characters. Sometimes it’s a hunter, sometimes it’s someone a little more dangerous. He loves the idea of playing a different version of himself, or making you act out a scenario where he’s your protector, your savior, your everything. The idea of pretending you’re strangers or something forbidden really gets him going, and he’ll do whatever it takes to bring that fantasy to life.

Spanking & Impact Play: Oh, he loves a little spanking. It’s not about punishing you; no, it’s about showing you just how much he can make you feel with a single slap. He’ll get rough, but in a way that keeps the pleasure high. He might not do it every time, but when he does, he knows exactly where to land his hand, just enough to make you gasp in surprise, followed by a whimper of need.

Tease & Denial: Dean’s great at this. He loves making you wait, teasing you with a kiss, a touch, and just enough attention to leave you desperate. He’ll get you so close to the edge, but then he pulls back, just to make you ache for more. It’s a power play, sure, but it’s also about making you feel like you’re at his mercy.

Dirty Talk: Dean’s mouth might be full of jokes and sarcasm, but when it’s just you two, his dirty talk can be downright filthy. He’ll whisper the dirtiest things in your ear, telling you exactly what he wants to do to you, making sure you know how much he needs you. It’s not just about what he says— it’s the way he says it. That low growl of his? The way his breath shudders in your ear? Yeah, you’re done for.

Bondage: Dean’s not afraid of a little bondage. He’s into tying you up in the heat of the moment, making you submit completely to him. Whether it’s just a simple tie or something more elaborate, he loves the visual and the control it gives him. The way you can’t move, the way he gets to explore every inch of you while you’re completely at his mercy; it’s a massive turn-on for him. Dean will tie you up just enough to keep you restrained, but not so tight you’re uncomfortable, making sure you’re both safe and, well, fully into it.

Morning Sex: Dean loves the feeling of waking up next to you. There’s something about the vulnerability of early mornings that makes him want to make love to you before the world even has a chance to wake up. He’s gentle at first, but it doesn’t take long before things heat up, and he’s got you pressed against him, his hands roaming over your body. There’s something so intimate and raw about the way he makes you feel in the morning, like you’re his whole world, and he can’t wait any longer to be inside you.

Praise kink: While Dean loves being the dominant force, he also enjoys giving you praise in the heat of the moment. There’s something about watching you lose control that fuels him. He’ll whisper sweet, dirty things in your ear, making you feel desired, telling you how good you’re being for him, how you’re his. It might be a little submissive kink on your end, but Dean’s all about making you feel like you’re pleasing him; especially when you’re desperate for his approval. And, let’s not forget. That man has been through some stuff— he loves when you give him little nods of appreciation in bed.

Public/Risky Sex: There’s a bit of a thrill in doing it in places where you shouldn’t. Whether it’s a quickie in the back of the Impala when you’re on the road, or sneaking around while Sam’s off doing his own thing, Dean loves the danger of possibly getting caught. The risk makes everything hotter. The adrenaline rush of having to keep quiet, of needing to be fast, but also wanting to drag it out as long as possible? It makes his blood pump harder, and he knows it’s just as much a turn-on for you as it is for him.

Dean’s kinks are all about power dynamics, teasing, and intense connection. He enjoys the balance between pleasure and pain, control and surrender. But no matter how much he pushes your limits, he’s always going to be there, making sure you’re feeling safe and cared for in the aftermath. Dean might be rough around the edges, but when he’s in the moment, he’s all about you.

L = LOCATION..

Let’s be honest— Dean’s not picky, but he definitely has his favorites. This man is always on the road, always moving, so he’s got to get creative when it comes to where he gets down to business:

The Impala: This one’s a classic. The backseat, the hood, hell—even the front seat if things get desperate. The Impala is Dean’s home, and there’s something about having you in his space that makes it all the more intimate. The windows fogging up, the leather creaking under your bodies, the absolute risk of getting caught—he lives for it. Plus, he loves having you ride him in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel behind your back, knowing damn well he’ll never be able to sit there again without thinking of you.

Motel Rooms: Dean’s been in hundreds of cheap, crappy motels, but when you’re there? They don’t feel so bad. The shitty wallpaper, the questionable beds— none of it matters when you’re beneath him, moaning his name. The fact that you two don’t stay in one place for too long? It makes every night feel urgent, needy, like he has to take full advantage of every second before you’re off hunting again. And let’s be real; he loves when you get loud, and in a motel, there’s no one to stop you.

Against the Wall: Not necessarily a location, but Dean loves pinning you against a wall. Whether it’s a motel wall, the side of the Impala, or even in the bunker when Sam’s not around (or when he is, if you’re being reckless), there’s something about having you trapped between his body and the hard surface that drives him insane. He loves the way you cling to him, the way you have to hold on, and the power he feels when he has you right where he wants you.

Showers: Dean’s a sucker for shower sex. He loves the intimacy of it; hot water, steam filling the air, the way your bodies slide against each other. He’ll stand behind you, hands roaming everywhere, whispering filthy things in your ear as he helps you brace yourself against the tile. It’s slow, deep, unrelenting—and after? He gets to wash you off, take his time kissing every inch of you, and maybe go for another round while you’re still warm and slippery.

Hood of Baby: Dean is a romantic at heart, even if he doesn’t admit it. There’s something about pulling off on a deserted road in the middle of the night, laying you out on the hood of the Impala, and having his way with you under the stars. It’s not just about the sex; it’s more about the feeling of freedom, of being untouchable, of knowing that in that moment, it’s just you and him against the world. Plus, he loves the way the cool metal feels against your skin, the contrast between the chill of the night air and the heat of your bodies moving together.

Literally anywhere risky: Dean’s got a thing for danger. Maybe it’s after a hunt, when the adrenaline’s still pumping, and he needs to feel alive. Maybe it’s somewhere you shouldn’t be— an abandoned house, the back of an alley, somewhere public where the risk of getting caught makes it all the more thrilling. He’s careful, but he also loves the idea of you trying to keep quiet, of knowing that someone might hear, but being too lost in the moment to care.

M = MOTIVATION..

Dean might act all cool and in control, but the second you push the right buttons? He’s done for. Here’s what gets him going the most:

Confidence (or Shyness—Either Works on Him): There’s nothing sexier to Dean than watching you take charge. If you walk up to him, grab his collar, and whisper something dirty in his ear? Immediate problem in his jeans. He loves knowing you want him just as much as he wants you. If you tease him, pulling back from a kiss too soon, giving him that look that says ‘come and get me’.. he’s going to get you.

But on the flip side? If you’re a little shy, a little hesitant, biting your lip like you’re unsure if you should make the first move? Yeah. That also destroys him. He loves pulling that shyness out of you, making you let go of your inhibitions until you’re gasping his name. The idea of turning you into a whimpering mess under him? That’s all the motivation he needs.

Your Body, Specifically the Parts You Don’t Think About: Dean lives for the little things; the curve of your hips when you walk past him, the soft skin of your thighs when he rests his hand on them, the way your neck tilts when you throw your head back laughing. It’s never just the obvious things that get him going, it’s the casual, effortless sexiness you don’t even realize you have. And if you’re wearing something that hugs your figure just right? He’s barely holding himself together.

Your Voice— Especially When You’re Whimpering for Him: Dean’s a sucker for sounds. The way your breath hitches when he gets too close, that soft gasp when he drags his fingers down your spine, the way you moan when he finally gives you what you want. If you let out the smallest whimper? He’s done for. It strokes his ego and sets him on fire at the same time.

And if you talk dirty to him? Ohhh, babe, he loses it. Whisper something in his ear, tell him what you need from him, what you want him to do to you? He’s throwing you on the bed before you can finish your sentence.

Seeing You Get a Little Frustrated: Dean loves a good challenge. If you’re trying to stay in control but he keeps pushing you right to the edge, and you start getting desperate for him? That’s it— that’s the moment he snaps. He loves teasing you, making you beg, watching you squirm under his touch. The more you fight it, the harder it is for him to hold back.

The Way You Look After a Hunt or Workout: Dean is an absolute animal for the way you look after any kind of physical activity— your hair a little messy, your skin flushed, your body all warm from exertion? It just makes him think about what you’d look like beneath him, all breathless and needy. And if you’re wearing something a little tight, maybe some sweat dripping down your chest? He’s gripping the steering wheel way too tight trying to keep it together.

Final thoughts? You are his motivation. It doesn’t take much; one look, one touch, one word, and he’s already aching for you. And when he finally gets his hands on you? He’s making sure you feel every ounce of that tension he’s been holding back.

N = NO..

Dean might be down for a lot, but there are definitely things that cross the line for him. For one, he’s not into anything that makes you uncomfortable— if you so much as hesitate or seem unsure, it’s over. He’s always paying attention, making sure you’re into it just as much as he is, and if he ever got the feeling you weren’t? He’d pull back immediately, no questions asked.

Pain that goes beyond a little roughness is a hell no for him. He’s all about grip marks on your hips, the occasional love bite, maybe even pinning your wrists if you’re feeling particularly desperate; but hurting you? That’s not even on the table. He might love making you squirm, teasing you until you’re begging, but it’s never about making you feel bad. He needs to know you’re enjoying every second of it, even when he’s driving you crazy.

Another hard no? Anything that makes things impersonal. Dean might be rough, dirty, and insatiable, but at the end of the day, there’s always feeling behind it. He’s not the type to treat sex like some casual transaction, when he’s with you, he’s with you. So anything that makes it feel detached— things like calling you degrading names in a way that isn’t playful, acting like you’re just some random hookup, or taking the emotion out of it— completely kills the mood for him. He needs that connection, that fire, that undeniable feeling that you’re his, and he’s yours.

And lastly? Anything that risks losing control too much. Dean can be dominant, sure, but he’s never going to push things to a point where it feels like he’s not himself. He’s got his demons (literally and figuratively) and he never wants to cross a line that makes either of you feel unsafe. The moment things stop being good for you, they stop being good for him, too. Because at the end of the day? He’s not just in it for the thrill— he’s in it for you.

O = ORAL..

Teased you guys a bit already in C, anyways! Dean lives for oral; giving, receiving, all of it. He’s ridiculously good at it, too, because let’s be real, the man is competitive in everything he does. If he’s going down on you, it’s not just to get you off— it’s to wreck you, to leave you so overstimulated and shaking that you can barely remember your own name.

When Dean’s between your thighs, he’s dedicated. He takes his time, really enjoying it, like it’s his favorite meal. He’s got this cocky little smirk when he first gets down there, like he already knows he’s about to ruin you, and he loves hearing how fast he can pull those desperate little sounds out of you. He doesn’t just focus on one thing— he’s teasing, using his fingers, dragging his tongue in slow, deliberate movements, only to switch things up when you least expect it. And the eye contact? Devastating. He’ll look up at you with those green eyes, pupils blown wide, and if you’re gripping his hair, pulling him closer, moaning his name? That’s it. He thrives on that, moaning into you just to watch you fall apart. And he will not stop until he’s got you trembling, gasping, completely lost in it.

As for receiving? Dean loves it, obviously, but what really gets him isn’t just the feeling, it’s the way you do it. If you’re teasing him, dragging your nails down his stomach, taking your time just to watch him get frustrated? Immediate weakness. He’s a sucker for eye contact, for feeling your lips around him while you look up at him with that innocent little gaze that he knows is anything but. And if you go slow at first, making him beg, gripping his thighs or holding his hips down when he tries to thrust? He’s losing it. He loves when you make him work for it, when you edge him just a little, force him to ask for more. But the second you actually give in and let him have it? He’s loud, moaning your name, throwing his head back, gripping the sheets or your hair because it just feels too good. And when he finally can’t take it anymore? He’s dragging you up to kiss you, growling something filthy about how good you are for him, and immediately flipping you over to return the favor.

Dean loves oral in every way possible. But most of all? He loves making sure neither of you walk away unscathed.

P = PACE..

Dean’s pace is everything— fast and rough when he’s desperate for you, slow and deep when he wants to savor it, but always intense no matter what. When he’s needy, when he’s been thinking about you all damn day and finally has you underneath him? There’s no patience left. He’s pushing you up against the wall, knocking the breath out of you, gripping your hips hard as he pounds into you like he’s got something to prove. He loves hearing the way you gasp, the way your nails dig into his back, how you whimper his name like you can’t take it— but he knows you can. He wants to ruin you, wants you to feel him in every inch of your body the next morning, to know that no one—no one—could ever touch you the way he does. His thrusts are deep, relentless, his fingers gripping the back of your neck as he growls in your ear, “This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

But when he wants to take his time? That’s a whole different kind of torture. He starts slow, just to watch you squirm, rolling his hips into you deliberately, dragging out every stroke, making you feel every inch of him. His hands are everywhere; on your waist, your thighs, gripping your wrists above your head just to keep you from pulling him in faster. He knows exactly what he’s doing, watching your face, drinking in every little gasp and moan, smirking when you whine for him to move faster. But he won’t— not yet. He’ll tease you, whisper filthy promises in your ear, telling you exactly what he’s gonna do to you once you’re begging for it. And the moment you finally do? The moment you can’t take it anymore? That’s when he snaps. That slow, controlled rhythm disappears, and suddenly he’s pounding into you like he’s been holding back for hours, because he has.

It doesn’t matter if it’s fast or slow, rough or deep— when Dean’s inside you, it’s always toe-curling, mind-numbing, earth-shattering. He’s not just fucking you; he’s taking you, owning every single sound you make, making damn sure you know who you belong to. And when he finally pulls you close, hips slamming against yours, whispering your name like it’s the only thing he knows? You don’t stand a chance.

Q = QUICKIE..

Dean is all about quickies; he thrives on the thrill of them, the urgency, the way you barely have time to think before he’s got you pressed up against the nearest surface, unbuckling his belt with that cocky little smirk. He loves that rushed, desperate feeling, where there’s no time for slow teasing, no time to strip completely, just pure, raw need.

He’s the type to pull you into a supply closet at a dive bar, shove you up against the Impala, or drag you into the motel bathroom while Sam’s in the other room, covering your mouth with his hand as he growls, “Gotta keep quiet, sweetheart.” And even though it’s rushed, even though it’s all about getting off as fast as possible? He never half-asses it. His pace is still devastating, his hands still gripping you tight, making sure you feel every second of it. He gets off on the idea that you can’t wait— that you need him now, just as badly as he needs you.

Quickies happen a lot with him.. before hunts, after hunts, during hunts when the tension gets too high and he just has to do something about it. And he doesn’t care where— against the Impala with the doors barely shielding you from the outside world, in a bar bathroom, even in the backseat if you tease him too much on a long drive. Hell, if you so much as look at him the right way, he’ll pull you into the nearest empty space and take care of it right there.

But the best part? The way he acts completely normal afterward, like he wasn’t just wrecking you two minutes ago. He’ll walk out of the room, running a hand through his hair, giving you that smirk while he adjusts his belt, acting like he didn’t just ruin you in record time. And if Sam or anyone else notices you looking thoroughly wrecked? Dean just chuckles, winks at you, and mutters, “What? Can’t help it when my girl looks that good.”

R = RISK..

Dean is definitely down to take risks— he thrives on a little danger, and when it comes to you, he’s got a filthy, adventurous side that’s always looking for new ways to keep things interesting. He loves the thrill of getting caught, of doing something he shouldn’t be doing, of knowing that you’re both toeing the line of what’s acceptable and what’s downright reckless. He’s not gonna do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but if you’re game? He’s all in.

Like i mentioned— Public stuff? Big yes. He’s got a thing for taking you somewhere risky; against the Impala with nothing but the darkness to hide you, in a bar bathroom with music thumping outside, in the backseat while Sam’s off getting food. He lives for those moments where he has to slap a hand over your mouth, whispering in your ear, “Be good for me, sweetheart. Don’t wanna get caught, do we?” But you both know he’d get off on the idea of someone almost hearing.

As for trying new things? Dean is curious, and if you suggest something? He’ll at least consider it. Bondage? He’s into the idea of pinning your wrists, maybe tying them up if he’s feeling particularly possessive. He loves control, but the idea of you having the upper hand sometimes? That’s dangerous in a way that excites him. Teasing him, making him work for it, putting him in a position where he has to beg? He’d never admit how much he likes it— but the second you try it, he’s hooked.

But at the end of the day? The biggest risk for him is losing control. He likes things intense, rough, even reckless. But there’s a limit. He never wants to take things too far, never wants to cross a line where it stops being about both of you. So yeah, he’ll push boundaries, he’ll test limits, he’ll get filthy, but he’ll always pull back if you need him to. Because for all the risks he’s willing to take, the one thing he’ll never gamble with? You.

S = STAMINA..

Dean has insane stamina. Like, we’re talking borderline superhero levels of staying power. He’s not the type to just rush through it and call it a night; when he’s into you, he’s in it for the long haul. You’ll see him go for multiple rounds, no problem. He’s the kind of guy who’ll keep going until you’re absolutely spent, and even then, he might give you a second wind— because Dean? Dean knows how to make it last.

After the first round, he’s not slowing down. In fact, he might get even more fired up, his confidence only growing as he sees you fall apart for him. And the thing is, he doesn’t just go fast and hard and get off quick; he’s got control, so he can pace himself while still making sure you’re writhing under him. He’ll adjust his rhythm, slow things down when you need it, build you back up, only to throw you back into the fire with his relentless pace.

If it’s been a long day, a stressful hunt, or just a case of too much tension between you two, he can go for hours. He’ll go until you’re on the brink of exhaustion, making you beg for him to stop or giving you exactly what you want. But even after you’ve had your fill, he’ll still pull you in for more, teasing you about how perfect you are, how you look so fucked out beneath him. The way he looks at you, all sweaty and breathless, tells you he’s not done, not even close.

He loves the challenge, loves showing you just how much he can handle, and every round is another chance to make you shatter for him. He’s not the kind of guy who taps out early, he’s in it for as long as it takes to make sure you’re both satisfied. So yeah, stamina? He’s got it in spades.

T = TOYS..

Dean’s not opposed to using toys, but it’s not something he needs all the time. If he’s in the mood to experiment, he’s down, and he might surprise you by pulling something out of his bag. He doesn’t have a collection or anything flashy, but he’s got a few items stashed away for when the moment feels right. Maybe it’s a vibrating toy, something to use on you while he’s taking his time with your body, or maybe it’s a blindfold or a set of handcuffs; something to tease, to heighten the sensation, and get you begging for more.

When it comes to using them on you, Dean loves to take control. He’ll slip a toy inside you while he’s kissing you, watching your face as the pleasure builds and he takes his time with you. He might tell you to keep quiet, to stay still, while he moves the toy slowly, getting you worked up while he strokes your skin. He’s into it, watching how you react, getting off on the way you squirm, the way you beg him for more. It’s not about the toy itself, it’s about how it adds to the power he has over you.

If Dean’s ever using a toy on himself? It’s probably just a quick solo thing when he’s away for a long stretch of time, maybe after a particularly stressful hunt. But honestly? He much prefers the real thing. Toys are fun for when he’s feeling a little extra, but nothing compares to the way you feel wrapped around him. So, yeah, toys are in the picture occasionally, but they’re more of a spicy bonus rather than a regular go-to.

U = UNFAIR..

Dean is a master of teasing. It’s practically in his DNA. He loves to get you worked up, make you beg for him, and he absolutely thrives on the power he has over your body and your reactions. There’s nothing he loves more than seeing you squirm, the way your breath catches when he drags his fingers over your skin just a little too slowly, the way your eyes roll back when he whispers something filthy in your ear. He’s got a wicked sense of humor, and teasing you? It’s his favorite game.

He knows exactly what drives you wild, what makes you ache for him— and he will absolutely milk that. He’s the type to pull away right when you’re getting close, watching you whimper and squirm in frustration, before he grins and says, “Not yet, baby.” He’s totally aware of how badly you want him, how desperate you are for that release, and he loves keeping you on the edge, giving you just enough to keep you hooked but never quite enough to make you snap. He knows it drives you crazy, and that’s exactly why he does it.

Sometimes, when he’s in the mood to be a little extra sadistic, he’ll barely touch you, just enough to make you itch for more, but never enough to actually give you what you need. He’ll tease you with his hands, with his lips, maybe even with his words; telling you how good you look, how he can’t wait to ruin you, only to pull back again, leaving you desperate for him.

It’s not that Dean is being mean.. he’s just having fun, enjoying how you fall apart in his hands. And the best part? The moment you finally get that release, it’s worth every second of the teasing. When he finally lets you have it, when he finally gives in— it’s explosive, mind-blowing. And he’s got no problem doing it all over again, because teasing? That’s just part of the fun for him.

V = VOLUME..

Dean is definitely loud in the heat of the moment. He’s not the type to stay quiet, especially when things are getting heated. His moans, grunts, and low growls fill the room, getting deeper the more intense things get. He’s not shy about expressing how much he’s enjoying himself, and the sounds he makes are like fuel to the fire, only making you want him more. His voice gets rougher as he gets closer, the way he groans your name sounding almost desperate, like he can’t get enough of you.

He’ll growl when you move just the right way, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper when he’s trying to keep himself under control but failing miserably. When he’s on top of you, he’ll grunt in time with his thrusts, his hands gripping the sheets or your skin, as if he needs something to ground him. When he’s kissing you, he can’t help but moan into your mouth, the sounds deep and needy, telling you just how much he wants you.

And when you really hit the right spot? You’ll hear him— loud and clear. He’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels, and it’s a total turn-on to hear those ragged breaths, the way his voice cracks when he says, “God, babe… you’re so tight.” He might even get more vocal as things go on, grumbling something filthy in your ear like, “You’re making me lose control.”

In the heat of it all, Dean’s volume is as much a part of the experience as everything else. His sounds only add to the intensity, making everything feel real, making every movement feel like it matters. And when it’s over? He’ll probably be panting, chuckling, or murmuring how perfect you are, still trying to catch his breath from all the noise he made.

W = WILD CARD..

Dean loves watching you. When it comes to it, Dean is absolutely mesmerized by every little thing you do. It starts off slow— he’ll catch you in moments when you’re unaware, when you’re just going about your day, and he can’t help but let his gaze linger. Maybe you’re getting dressed, stretching after a nap, or adjusting yourself on the couch, and he’ll just stare, his eyes locked on you like he’s memorizing every curve, every movement. There’s something about seeing you unaware, just being your natural, beautiful self, that drives him absolutely wild. He might not say anything, just look at you with this low, dark expression that makes you feel hot under his gaze.

But it’s not just the little moments— he loves watching you when you’re aware, when you know exactly what he’s doing, and the tension between you two gets electric. He might make you stand in front of him, just so he can admire you, his eyes moving over your body, drinking you in. When he’s getting you undressed, he’ll slow things down, taking his time to look at you, making sure you feel exposed and desired. Every inch of your body is a masterpiece to him, and he’s all about seeing it, touching it, taking it in.

When you’re in bed together, he’ll love when you’re on top, especially when you’re riding him or grinding down on him— because he can watch every movement you make, the way your body reacts to him. He’ll watch the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the way your eyes flutter shut when he’s hitting the right spot. He’ll groan under his breath, watching you move, maybe even whispering things like, “That’s it, baby, just like that,” or “God, you look so fucking good like this.”

But it goes beyond just the act; he loves watching you get worked up when you’re teasing him too. If he’s in the middle of it with you, like a slow, sensual buildup, he’ll make you strip for him or slowly touch yourself in front of him, just to see how desperate you’ll get for him. Watching you get lost in your own pleasure, seeing the way you react to his touches, his words, is like a drug for him. The more you get lost in him, the more he gets turned on, and he’ll keep pushing you, keeping that slow burn going until you can’t take it anymore.

For Dean, the act of watching is an extension of the control he has— he loves to see you fall apart under his gaze, to see you lose yourself in the moment. It’s a form of foreplay in itself, a way for him to build tension, to draw things out before he finally gives you the release you crave. The more he watches, the more addicted he gets to the sight of you, and it becomes this unspoken dance, a game where he’s always a step ahead, enjoying how you react, how you need him.

X = X-RAY..

Dean’s confidence in this department is off the charts, and he knows he’s got something to be proud of. He’s not the type to brag, but when you catch a glimpse, you definitely don’t miss it. He’s got a solid, nice size that makes you ache to touch him, with just the right amount of thickness and length to hit every right spot. He can make you shiver with anticipation just by pulling down his jeans, letting you see it all before he lets you touch, before he lets you do anything.

He’s big enough to make you take a deep breath, to make you want to prepare yourself, but he knows how to use it, how to give you just the right amount of pressure, just the right angle. And the best part? He’s more than willing to build you up, letting you take your time with him, watching you as you slowly trace your fingers down his length, his breath catching every time you get too close.

And alright, babe, let’s be real. Dean’s got a size that’s definitely above average. We’re talking about around 7 to 8 inches. He’s thick too, enough to stretch you just right and make you feel every inch of him, pushing all the right buttons. He’s got that perfect length and girth that makes every thrust feel deep, filling, and intense. When he’s inside you, you can feel it, and you can’t help but gasp when he hits that spot that drives you wild.

But it’s not just about size— he knows how to work with what he’s got. He’s slow, deliberate, using every inch of himself to maximize the pleasure, to make you beg for more. He’s got that perfect balance of everything, and when you feel him, when you take him in, there’s no mistaking that he knows exactly what to do with it.

Y = YEARNING..

Dean’s sex drive is through the roof. This man is always hungry for you; whether he’s been working on a case all day or just had some time to himself, his need for you is almost constant. He’s got that deep, insatiable yearning, like he can’t get enough of you. It’s not just physical— there’s something emotional tied to it too. He’s always looking for that connection, that intimacy, and he craves the release you give him. He doesn’t shy away from taking things to the next level whenever the moment feels right.

He’s the type to get touchy and needy, even in public. A lingering hand on your waist, a kiss on the back of your neck when no one’s looking. Dean will always find a way to sneak in his desire. But when it comes to the bedroom (or wherever you happen to be), he’s like a man possessed, eager to claim you and make sure you know just how much he wants you. He’ll go for round after round if you’re both up for it, each time a little more intense than the last.

If you’ve been apart for any amount of time, the moment you’re alone? It’s like a switch flips, and he’s all over you. He’ll get you worked up in seconds, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in forever, his hands roaming all over, eager to feel you again. You won’t have to wait long before he’s all in, fully driven by that yearning to have you, to feel you, to make you feel as good as he does when he’s with you.

Z = ZZZ..

After everything’s said and done, Dean’s not the type to just crash immediately— but it doesn’t take long. If you’ve had an intense round of sex, he’ll be exhausted, and it’s not uncommon for him to be a little out of breath, still feeling the high of it all. He might pull you close, his arm wrapped around you as you both try to catch your breath, and once the adrenaline fades, he’s pretty much out. Dean’s a heavy sleeper, so after he’s satisfied, he’ll be out like a light, snuggling you in his arms with a content, relaxed sigh.

He’s got a calming way about him after sex; almost like it’s his way of grounding himself. You can feel his body relax next to you, and it’s like he just melts into the bed, not really caring about the world outside. If you’re still awake, though, he’ll lazily pull you into him, wanting to keep you close, maybe whispering something sweet or teasing you about how perfect you were, before his eyes start to flutter. It’s that perfect balance between pleasure and peace— and soon enough, you’ll feel his breath even out as he drifts off into a deep sleep, his body completely satisfied and at rest.

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