#naïveté is strong

[rwsdarw]

Forgiveness is so badass. It’s SO EASY to be angry at someone after a betrayal but when a character is soft and understanding instead it’s so much more impressive. Anger is innate, it takes strength to be kind.

[greykolla-art]

Unstoppable villain, meet immovable agent of friendship!

I was wondering in what circumstances Charlie would just OFFER her soul to Al.

And he would short circuit as all his manipulation plans become unnecessary.

Cause Charlie cares about her friends and if they need help she won’t hesitate.

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Eyes on you. (18+)

Pairings: Soulless!SamWinchester X Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: Sam has been… off lately. But that’s to be expected from a man who just came back from hell, right?

Word count: 5.9k

Tags: Soulless Sam Winchester x reader, hunting with Sam and Dean, Soulless Sam, Sam Winchester smut, dubcon(?) , PiV, no protection (wrap it up kids), creampie, breath play, choking, pinning, fingering, degradation, rough, dom sam, Dean mentioned but not involved, dacryphilia, reader has female anatomy, no use of y/n

Notes: wooo! sorry for the long hiatus, school has been fucking me missionary. anyway, starting off Kinktober strong with dubcon

Requests are open.

There was something terribly wrong with Sam.

You knew it from the moment he got back. Hell, everyone knew it.

Though of course when these concerns were raised to Dean, he, in his self-imposed naïveté, ignored it.

But you knew he felt it too.

During the few times you’ve tagged along on the brothers hunts these last few months, you’ve picked up on a few things. The way Dean would hold eye contact with Sam for only thirty seconds at a time, never a moment longer. Or how he would shift away from his own brother if he got too close. It was subtle. But you knew.

You couldn’t blame Dean for wanting to pretend everything was all right. Sam was his brother after all. And after everything they'd been through, if you were in his position, you'd do the same. You've only known the boys for some odd years now, and still you find yourself from time to time, pretending that the sweet, bookish, too-tall-for-his-own-good Sam you met is the same thing that came out of hell.

That is how you would survive this hunt.

You’ve always wondered how humans could feel someone's eyes on them. Since becoming a hunter that sense has sharpened.

You tear your gaze away from the view out of the backseat of the Impala and lock eyes with Sam in the rearview mirror. His once soft gaze was now stoic and calculating.

He looks away.

You linger.

You couldn't help but have the feeling that, in fact, there was nothing wrong with Sam at all.

This simply wasn't Sam. This was just some creature doing a poor emulation of him.

Without realizing, your hand had slid down your leg to the lifted fabric in the side of your boot. Your fingertips grazed the hilt of your dagger.

Correction, this is how you’d survive this hunt.

—-

When you finally arrived at the dilapidated manor, Dean was first to survey the scene.

“Alright.” He said in his usual gruff voice, clasping his hands together. “We got alotta ground to cover so, ladies first, take your pick.” Dean said, gesturing to you.

You were hoping Sam would pick first so that at the very least, you could choose the place furthest from the shiver down your spine.

“I’ll take upstairs,” you said. That feeling again, eyes on you.

Dean nods. You spin on your heels and race up the winding staircase without waiting to hear what each chose.

—-

Mildew and rotting wood lace the air. It’s a shame really, you thought. You face the expansive landing before you, pausing as your calf muscles burn from climbing the stairs two at a time.

High ceilings, eleven feet at least. Tall windows with dusty wine curtains spilling onto the floor shielding the amber of the setting sun. Most of the furniture was missing –evidence of squatters and raids– what remained was broken and covered in suspicious stains, much like what was left of the deep brown hardwood flooring. The most noticeable part of the room was the wallpaper, a rich red with delicate Chrysanthemums scattered across it, almost looking hand-painted on.

The wooden boards groan beneath your feet, causing you to question if they threatened to give out. You had a job to do, so you trudge down the dark hall.

Around 10 minutes pass and you knew no more information than when you first walked in. Not too long after you first got upstairs, you heard the ghostly moan of the front door shutting – one of the boys had opted to search the grounds. Meanwhile you tore through almost a dozen rooms only to find phallic graffiti and more rotting wood.

It was dark through the house now, the setting sun long gone, leaving you in the cold, dim space. The only light provided was the one functional bulb of the broken chandelier above- set to perpetually swing until its last chain broke.

The actual goal of this job was rather vague. All you knew was a bunch of kids had narrowly escaped death after a night of pure dumbassery in this house. So now here you were, swiping your EMF reader abstractly through the air and as Dean so eloquently put it, “keepin’ your eyes peeled for anything ghost-y or weird.”

Yeah, real helpful.

So you continue on down the hall with only a few rooms left to search. Then, something sounds from ahead.

Creeeeeak

You stalk toward the sound.

Nothing.

Creeeeeak.

The sound seems to come from behind this time. That feeling again, eyes on you.

You whip your head around. “Who's there!” You shout, your confident voice a stark contrast to the pit hanging in your stomach.

This time you manage to catch a glimpse of something slipping around the corner. You steel yourself, pocket the EMF reader, pull your dagger from your boot and start toward the creature.

You walk out into the landing, your steps cautious and dagger ready. Your eyes roll through the room. It was as if the creature had disappeared.

Creeeeak.

Or maybe not.

“That's cute.” It chuckles.

The voice was low and terrible, sending shivers down your spine

Yet still, it was almost familiar.

It elicited this hair raising feeling you can only imagine is similar to what homosapien felt looking at neanderthal.

“Come on out!” you shout, voice beginning to waver.

“That little kitchen knife you have, it's cute.”

Your stomach drops. Gears begin to turn in your head.

“But y’know, It doesn't matter how good you are with it.”

Sam, the real Sam, had been trying for years to get you to use a gun. But you had your knives and were good with them no doubt, so what was the point? He would always return your refusals with that crooked smile and pleas of how it “would make him feel so much better.”

Creeeeak.

The hall, it had to be coming from there. You force yourself to move.

“If your opponent is faster.”

Creeeeak.

No it was from behind, you were sure of it.

You spin on your heels and race toward the landing once more.

“Sam, come out. This isn't fucking funny!”

Just as you turn the corner, one strong hand seizes both of your wrists in a single swift motion. In an instant you're slammed up against something hard. The knife drops from your hands. Sam kicks it away. You open your eyes.

Chrysanthemums.

Fuck.

Sam leans down, his hot breath brushing against your neck. “Should’ve let me teach you how to shoot.”

There's a pause, the moment breathing and the air pulsing.

“Sam...” You exhale finally. Your voice comes out smaller than you would’ve liked.

“You’re too easily overpowered.” he raises his head for his lips to meet your ear. “Didn’t take much for me to get you like this; to hunt you down.” Sam’s grip tightens on your wrists.

His voice was low and gravely. You fought back against your aching lungs' desire to quicken their pace.

“That's what you’re calling this?” You remark. “Hunting me down?”

You had to play this smart.

There was a small knife, pocket sized, really, concealed just past the waistband of your jeans. With your hands to your back, if you could maneuver your fingers just right-

“Well I did, didn't I?” He squeezes your wrists once more, sending pain shooting down your arm and causing your fingers to splay out.

“Okay!” You gasp. “You've proved your point!” You say through gritted teeth.

Your index and middle finger slip past the waistband.

His grip loosens and he pulls away. You exhale. The tip of the handle brushes against your fingertip. So close.

Then, Sam jerks your wrists downward, your chance of escape literally slips between your fingers.

“I don't think I have.”

He looks down on you, this you can see from the corner of your eye. The rest, you feel.

His gaze is mechanical, inspecting, taking in and processing data. Some synapse fire causes his lips to tug upward in a smirk.

“Fuck.”

His long fingers tuck into the waist of your jeans.

“What are you-” You jut your hips in a desperate attempt to move free. Sam silently presses his knee against the back of your own, stopping all movement. There was no anger in his motions, annoyance at best. You let out a ragged breath.

He pulls the blade out, slowly and deliberately.

“Sam.”

He ignores your plea. Sam drags the knife from you, taking great care to ensure that the blade runs along your spine and that the tip drags up the hem of your shirt.

A shiver of a different kind rolls through your every vertebrae.

He brings the dagger to your chin, forcing you to look up. Sam all but closes the gap between the two of you, the point of his nose ghosting against your cheek. The warmth of his body swarms around you; the rotting wood smell drowned out by his deep woodsy scent. For a small singular blip of a moment you allow yourself to believe that this thing that looked and smelled like Sam, was truly Sam.

“Scream.”

But this isn't Sam, you knew that.

His voice quickly serves to pull you from your sanctity.

“What?” You breathe, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“You could’ve, by now. Dean would hear too, and you know that- you’re not stupid.”

“I-” You stammer. He was right. The thought had played in the back of your mind but some louder part of you, the part that hadn't been next to a warm body in months objected.

“So why don’t you?” Sam continues, his voice like velvet sending vibrations rippling across your skin.

“Go on, scream.”

Nothing.

He smirks.

Sam drops the knife. There goes your lifeline.

His lips meet your jaw in a hungry kiss. You let out an involuntary groan. His teeth clash against the bone, threatening to leave a mark.

Maybe this wasn't Sam, but it still looked like him, still felt like him, and still touched like him. Maybe pretending couldn't hurt.

He continues down your neck, every hot, open-mouthed kiss causing another groan to escape you. Deep down you felt some gross shame; the fraction of yourself that hasn't succumbed to the wants of your flesh racking against your ribcage. All at once his teeth clamp down on your shoulder. “Agh.”

Yeah pretending couldn’t hurt. But good god did you hope it would.

You hiss, sucking in a breath and trying to pull away.

“Tell me to stop.” Sam breaths in between rough kisses.

He flattens himself against you, the strain in his jeans pressing into your ass. Against better judgment, you let out a sweet moan and you feel the bulge in his pants grow. This was wrong, so so wrong. There was something off about Sam, you shouldn’t be sleeping with him.

“Sto-hmfg” You’re cut off by the sounds of your own pleasure as Sam sucks on the part of your neck he had just bit. The juxtaposition of pleasure and pain confuses your mind and body. Heat spreads between your thighs and your mind swirls.

Knowing and feeling something are two entirely different things. Sure, in your head you could protest the current situation. You could attempt to be as logical as you wanted, but that didn’t change the aching desire within you. 

“One word and I will.” Sam groans as he presses his hips into you. 

The feeling of his hardness so close to your needy core ceases any rational thought you could’ve given.

He releases your bruised wrists. Finally, a moment to think properly. Without warning, his arm wraps around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides and pulling you away from the wall and into him. You were sure at this point that your cheek had a chrysanthemum imprint on it. 

Sam looks down at you before him. So helpless and ready to be fucked dumb. He watches as you wince, your body in pain from the new position. His cock twitches. 

You feel his muscles, strong and heaving against your back, his arm flexing as he holds you close. His free hand slides over to the collar of your shirt. His long fingers delicately trace your collar bones, staring down at them as if he wants to sink his teeth in. The air leaves your lungs. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his hands sliding down your torso, then sliding up your shirt. Oh how badly you wanted to cry out. To beg him to touch your needy pussy. But something told you he wouldn't oblige. 

Sam watches your face intently. As hard as you tried not to give anything away, he could tell every single thing you were feeling. The light twitch of your eyebrow as he slid his hands up your shirt instead of down your pants sent satisfaction surging through him. He didn't have to feel you to know you were soaking wet. He slides his index and middle fingers under your bra and begins to massage the soft skin of your breasts. His thumbs hold your sides and his ring and pinky fingers dig into the gaps between your ribs. You were so much more fragile than he ever imagined. God, he can't wait to break you. 

Small, soft moans pour out of you like music to his ears. His fingers pinch your nipples harshly, causing you to make a squeak-like whimper. You try to pull away from him in sudden shock at the pain but there was nowhere to run. 

“Sam, please.” You whine.

“Please what?” He replies while rolling your now firm nipples between his fingers.

Your voice comes out small, pathetic, he thought. “Agh- it hurts.”

He pinches harder. “You can take it.”

Before you can protest, he returns to that sweet spot on your neck that he had bit earlier. He flicks his tongue across the bruise before kissing it again and again. Your head lolls and your mind goes blank. 

Sam continues to pinch and twist your nipples, watching your face and relishing in the effect he has on you. Almost makes him wonder if you’ve ever been fucked right in your life. 

All those nights he knew you were in the next motel room getting fucked by some idiot you met at a bar. Every morning he had to see you with your hair messy and makeup smudged. All those times he wished it was him who was making you moan, just for you to be squirming like a virgin right now? 

Sam angles himself so that his bulge is pressed directly against your cunt. The friction makes you moan and he can't stop the spread of a smirk across his lips. 

“Look what you did to me.” He breathes against your ear. “You’re such a slut.” 

“N-no I'm not.” You gasp between moans. That wasn’t true. Sure you had a few one night stands but no more than either of the boys.

“Really?” Sam grins and for some reason that was so much worse than if he had outright called you a whore. 

Shame overwhelms you.

He suddenly rips his hands from your tits. The sudden motion and lack of warmth makes you gasp.

Exactly what he wanted. Sam finds the button on your jeans and pops it free in an instant. 

The room felt like a maelstrom of hot desire. You never imagined that you’d tolerate being called a slut, let alone dignify the accusation by trying to defend yourself against it, and you certainly, most definitely, never thought it'd be Sam making the accusation.

Sam roughly shoves his hand into your jeans and you feel your heart speed up, partiality in fear, partially in excitement. Sadly, he doesn't go another layer further. His fingers dance across the cotton of your panties, teasing. 

“Not a slut?” He whispers in your ear. His fingers find your entrance and press against it. The soft fabric was warm and sticky, practically soaked with your arousal. You whine as his fingers threaten to enter, you were so embarrassed yet your body begged for more.

“Then why are you so wet, hm?” Sam didn’t have to say it, you both knew it as his fingers sent the message before his mouth did but still, but he received such a deep satisfaction seeing your cheeks flush at his words. 

 You weren't going to dignify him with a response. 

Sam’s middle and ring finger press against your entrance once more. You attempt to keep your face straight as you internally curse the fabric separating him and your pleasure.

“Such a fucking slut.”

At this, Your pussy clenches around the tips of his fingers.

You feel Sam's chest vibrate against your back as a wry laugh echoes through him.   “You like that?” 

You set your gaze on your shoes, biting back words. 

 He grabs your jaw and forces you to look up at him. “Answer me, slut.” 

Your pussy pathetically clenches around him again. You release your bottom lip, red with blood circulation. “Y–Yes.” You didn’t have to respond, but for some reason you wanted to see his face as you said it. To know if he was as turned on as you were. 

Sam rewards you with a mocking smile. “Wow… who knew you were such a dirty whore.”

Before you could even think of a response, Sam finds your clit. The second he touches you, you feel your mind begin to go blank, your mouth falls open with only a whimper to show for the last of your coherent thoughts. Even through your panties, his touch was electric

His lips find that beautifully bruised sweet spot on your shoulder and pepper it with kisses. His hand drops from your neck, leaving your head to loll as you shudder with breathy moans. 

The fabric of your panties was now throughly saturated as it slid across your folds. You grind against Sam’s hand, desperate for more friction. You tried so hard not to give in but it was clear at this point you had lost. Sam takes in the sight: your lips fallen apart in gasping moans, your eyes fluttering shut and brows knitted. The curvature of your neck, your head thrown back like a dead girl and your hips pathetically rocking back and forth, too proud to beg.

“You want more, baby?” Sam asks, amusement evident in his tone.

You bite down on your bottom lip, clinging to the last bits of your dignity.

All those nights he had to hear your headboard banging against the wall you weren't so reserved. 

“Fine then.” Stoically, Sam simply begins to pull away. 

Without thinking, your hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. You look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust and boring into his skull. “Please.” 

Now that is what he liked to see. He wets his lips as he looks over your face. 

“Good girl.” 

You weren't quite sure what took over you and you don't know if you hated yourself for it or were thankful. Regardless, you begin to lead his hand back toward your jeans. Suddenly, he stops.

Celertitly, Sam turns you around and pins you back to the wall. If he was going to have you, it would be wholly and completely. He was going to ravage you and tear you apart at the seams.

He undresses you like an autopsy, delicately peeling away layer after layer. His thumbs hook into your pants and he squats as he slides them down. His fingers trace the rim of your panties before he slowly pulls them down your legs. Sam looks up at you: thighs pressed together and hands balled at your sides. While your body language conveyed a certain conservative nature, your teeth sunken into your red bottom lip and eyes staring straight down at him anticipating his next move told a different story. It was almost funny the way you tried to remain taciturn, as if you hadn’t just proved a thousand times over what a slut you are. 

Sam’s large hands practically engulf your hips as he takes hold. For a moment he considers licking your cunt, but then again, it would be so much more fun to see you squirm beneath him. He rises to his feet, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses you as leverage, lips ghosting against your torso. His narrowed eyes never leave you for a moment. 

You search Sam’s eyes for anything familiar, anything that would make you feel less awful about this. While his eyes still contained that stunning hazel hue, there was no emotion behind them. Lust, sure. Before you could thoroughly discern your emotions, you feel Sam pulling up your shirt. 

“Wait.” You say, pushing the fabric down. “Dean… He’s just outside. What if he comes up?” 

“So?” Sam asks flatly. He tries to pull off your shirt again, but you stop him.

“So? I won’t have time to get dressed. I’d rather your brother not se-“ 

His lips press against yours as though he were starved. Fastest way to get you to shut the fuck up. 

Your mind and every thought in it slips out like a gust of wind. He pulls away only for a quick moment.  “Guess we’ll have to be quick then, hm?” He breathes. You nod dumbly, lips puffy and saliva coating them.  With that he forcibly rips off your top and tosses it to the ground. Finally, he thought. 

Your bra ends up on the ground as well. 

Sam roughly grabs you by the hair and pulls you back into the kiss. Of all the times you’ve imagined being with Sam, not once did you think it would be like this, unfeeling, and rough. But if you could pretend, that would make it all okay. 

And so you did. You let your mind go blank and only focus on the pleasure ‘real’ Sam was giving you. 

 Your hands slide up his shoulders and rest on the nape of his neck. You moan as you sink into the kiss and as Sam's long fingers come to circle your clit and you don’t bother to maintain a shred of composure.

He breaks the kiss, panting, forehead pressed against yours and looks down at your body, and all the bruises on you. All of the ways he’s marked and claimed you caused a low growl to ripple through his chest. Sam pulls his fingers from your pussy and you have half a mind to grab his wrist again. He watches as your slick stretches and runs down his fingers. You pretend that his thoughts and words were something more of love than lust. 

“Fuck.” “Beautiful.” He says in a breathy murmur. 

As Sam's fingers prod at the entrance of your puffy cunt, you cringe at the lewd squelching noise that ensues. He looks up from his work to watch your face. It was so satisfying to see you like this, so needy and pathetic. At once, his fingers sink deep inside you. You moan, his fingers leaving you so full. You hardly have a moment to gather your thoughts before he's thrusting in and out of you, a satisfied look on his face at watching you unravel.  

Every single moan you make is loud, drawn, out and practically pornographic and in all honesty, you couldn't care less. He pulls you in via a rough grip on your hair and smashes his lips against yours. You let yourself believe the kiss was more fervent than greedy. His tongue, much like his fingers, treats the inside of your body more like an exploration or experiment — trying to figure out what makes you tick. Sam runs his tongue along the inside of your teeth and at the same time you feel him grinning against your lips. Suddenly you can’t get enough air in your lungs, his fingers curl and press right against your g-spot. You tear yourself away from him in a gasping moan, your palms flat against his muscular chest as your world spins. 

“mfgh- fuck, S-Sammy,” You cry.  

And just as soon as he started, he stopped. 

“What did you call me?” Sam pulls away, his eyes narrowed and dark. It doesn’t matter if his touch was ever loving, the lack of it now leaves you feeling cold and embarrassed.

“Samm-“

Sam’s lips curl into a frown. You stop speaking. 

 It seems everyone— including you, wanted little ‘Sammy’ back. It didn’t matter that he was right there, they missed that weak part of him still burning in hell. 

Slowly but promptly, his hand creeps up your collarbone and wraps around your throat. He sets his jaw and it hits you— what you felt around Sam before this, it wasn’t fear, something more than discomfort but far less than being afraid; this however, this was fear. 

As it seems, you’ve gotten yourself too lost in pretending. 

“Sammy,” he says sharply in a voice you were unaware Sam was even capable of producing. “Is Dean’s dumbass little brother…  Sammy jerked off to you every night but never had the balls to ask you out. Sammy is a little bitch. So, if you want me to fuck you dumb, it’s Sam.”

Speechless, you breathe a reply before your brain has a chance to catch up. “I- yes sir.” 

“Yeah, that too.” Sam replies in a dark voice. 

He squeezes your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that he could if he wanted to. 

And for some goddamned reason, it turns you on. 

Pretending never does quite work, does it?

It was wrong, you thought as Sam’s hand dropped from your throat. Even after what just happened, you felt yourself growing hotter at the image that wormed its way into your head. Sam’s nimble fingers wrapped around his cock, chest heaving as he stoked himself. Instead of returning to you, he began to undo his belt. Sam’s pumps growing jagged and needy as he brought himself closer. He starts to pull down his pants and boxers, a bit of hasty anger in his movements. Sam’s eyes wrenching shut, or perhaps rolling back. Breathless repetitions of your name floating in the air. Thick globs of revering white emulsion spilling over his fist out of the very same cock before you. You gasp as he enters.

Sam’s cock feels as though it’s ripping you apart. His length and girth are far more than you’ve ever taken and by the looks of it, he's never had something quite like you either. 

“Fffuck you’re tight.” He groans, fingers digging into your ass as he thrusts in and out. He wishes he didn’t have to worry about these damn clothes, he could've made you cum on his tongue by now if it weren't for the damn pants around your ankles. He also wishes he didn't have to worry about time constraints, he could've given you several short orgasms by now instead of aiming for a single earth-shattering one.. Honestly, he couldn’t give less of a shit if Dean saw the two of you, but you probably wouldn't sleep with him again if that happened and  he was planning to use your tight little pussy this entire weekend. Hell, he might ‘accidentaly’ fuck up the hunt so you would have to stay in town longer.

“So good for me baby.” Sam says in a groan. His eyes remain locked on your expression and your tits bouncing with every thrust. Your warm cunt fits around him so nicely. He didn't have to, and he knew you surely couldn't take it but he loved to see you gasp and squirm– so pretty beneath him, every time he bottomed out.

“Mnghh, wa-agh!” You whine, high pitched and pleading. You press your palms against his chest, hoping to send the message of telling him to slow down as your mouth has been rendered absolutely useless save for whimpers and moans. Maybe he didn’t understand, or maybe it was that he didn’t want to, in the end, Sam continued fucking you with reckless abandon.

Tears began to prickle in the corners of your eyes. “Sam- agh s’too.. mmuch.” You sobbed. 

“Shh, you’re taking me so well,” Sam coos. He cups your jaw in a surprisingly tenderder fashion and wipes your streaming tears with his thumb. You wince.

He has always wondered how you liked it. How you really liked it, every dirty fantasy you had in the dead of night and every deleted search.

“H-mgh, h-hurts.” You  squeak out as he rams into you once more.

 Now, it was glaringly obvious. With a hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes, he wraps a hand around your throat once more and then, he squeezes. 

Of course Sam has choked a girl in bed before, but choking you was especially euphoric. The slight hint of fear in your eyes was enough to make him cum right now. 

You felt suddenly very aware of your body. The pain on your shoulder and down your finger-dug in arms and hips. Your drooping eyelids, tears down your chin, the thoughtless moans spilling out of you as you unthinkingly tipped your head back, exposing your throat to give Sam a better grip. 

Every breath gave a slight resistance you couldn’t help but want. Fog filled your head until you were left with a one point perspective of Sam. It hurt so good. Your arms lazily drape over his shoulders and you find yourself begging for more of him; your hips rock in tandem with this thrusts and through moans, a single word falls from your lips. 

“Harder.” 

Sam quickly obliges, his pelvis meets yours with every thrust and his tip touches your cervix. You throw your head back in a shuddering moan and feel yourself losing oxygen. 

He couldn’t believe he didn’t realize sooner what a pain slut you were. Your pussy begins to tighten around his cock in uneven flutters. First your fingers, curling into Sam’s hair. Then your chest, shallow breaths growing shallower. Your legs follow soon after, the muscles tensing and feeling as though they could give away at any moment. Finally your abdomen, growing taut by the second. Your brows press together as your mouth falls open. 

“S-ssoo close.” You slur. 

“Hold it baby, just a little more.” Sam groans. His breath filled in the hot inch of space between your bodies. His thrusts became shorter but more rapid, his heart following suit. He clenches his teeth. Fuck, you looked pretty with his hand around your throat but damn if he didn’t need to cum inside your cunt. 

Tears begin streaming down your cheeks as you try to hold back the waves of pleasure ripping through you. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sam stops choking you and turns all his attention on your pussy. Your moans come out in pathetic cries, your body feeling wet and mushy but tense and begging for release all at the same time. Your head was a mess too jumbled to decipher and all you wanted was to cum. 

“Ssam.. please.” You cry as he pounds into you like a rag doll.

“So needy.” He teases back in a ragged breath. “You can do it. Be a good slut and hold it.”

 Just as you go to beg he meets your yes in a stern glare. “Do not fucking cum until I say so.” 

You give a reluctant nod. 

And just then, you hear a door shut. 

Shit. 

With wide eyes, you snap out of your trance. 

Sam on the other hand, didn’t plan on stopping. 

His hand quickly flies up to your mouth and his body completely presses yours to the wall. 

“Not a sound.” He whispers against your ear.  

As hard as you try to fight it, you find yourself slipping back. This time, with each thrust you slide up the chrysanthemum wall and he could feel your heart beating against his chest 

Sam’s cock twitches inside of you. He moves his hand and replaces it with his lips, trapping you in a sloppy kiss while he lifts your legs, bringing your knees to almost wrap around his hips. He palms your ass while his forearms support your thighs and his elbows your knees. Damn these clothes. Though still, at this angle he could get so much deeper and bring himself so much closer. 

White hot pleasure surges through his every synapse. 

“Guys! Where are you?” Dean calls from downstairs and damn if the adrenaline rush from that didn’t turn you on. 

Sam feels you clench around his cock and he groans into your mouth. 

“Almost there.” Sam whispers. You were too out of it to reply. 

“Need- mgh.. to.” You whisper. A tingling sensation has taken over your whole body, starting at your core and spreading outward. You felt like a ticking time bomb and just when you felt you were about to explode.

“Cum.”

With that you let go. You feel Sam’s hand slide between your and his lips as your orgasm rolls through you. His head falls forward and rests against the wall as he shudders through an orgasm of his own. The tingling feeling turns your muscles to jello but Sam does his best to keep you in his grasp. 

“No hits outside.” Dean calls. 

The only sound that mattered to either of you though were each other's dark trembling exhales, yours leaving through your nostrils and onto his knuckles and Sam’s through his parted lips and onto your bare shoulder. 

Small twitches and spurts from Sam’s length persist inside of you as he reaches the last of his orgasm. Meanwhile your entrance flutters as you recover from your ecstasy. Your heart pounded in your ears and you were left in a high. 

“…The hell? If you two got taken by a ghost or some shit I swear.” Dean grumbles. And then his footsteps start toward the stairs. Fuck.

Sam though, he takes his sweet time letting you down. 

Creeaak, Groans one step. 

Sam begins to pull out, forcing you to watch his cock glistens with your wetness and his cum seeps out of you. 

Creeeak. 

You were unsteady on your feet but managed to pull your pants and panties up.

Creeeak.

Shit, where’s your bra?

“Guys!” Dean yells, his voice closer than ever. His footsteps pick up the pace.

He reaches the top of the stairs to find Sam inspecting his EMF reader and you, placing a dagger back in your boot, fully dressed. 

“Oh hey, Dean.” Sam says with a casualness that left you feeling that if his cum were not leaking out of you right now, you would question if anything had actually happened. 

“What the hell? Damn near gave me a heart attack.” 

“Sorry,” Sam shrugs. “Thought we found something.” 

“Uh huh.” Dean replies, unconvinced. He glances at you, then back to Sam, and then to you again. “So, you find anything?”

“No.” You say without meeting his eyes. You frown and pretend to check out some of the grafiti. 

“Right.” Dean says.

You give him a small nod and quickly slip behind him and down the stairs. 

Once he hears the front door shut, Dean turns to Sam with a quirked brow. 

Sam looks up from the EMF reader and at Dean cooley. “Maybe there’s an attic or a back room we haven’t found?”

“Seriously? Don’t you think it’s a little messed up?”

“No, tons of old houses have cellars and hidden rooms.”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Sam.” Dean raises your pocket knife Sam hadn’t realized he picked up. He’s known you long enough to know where you stash your amo. “She doesn’t know, does she?” He frowns. 

His poker face falters and returns to a room-temperature smugness. “Is that what this is about? Me not having a soul?” Sam steps forward. “Or are you just mad that I fucked her first?” 

Tag list: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @n0va25 @figurantedefilme @wowzabowza69

Dm to be added/removed

[lavendermin]

Drunk Jing Yuan doing something to my brain cause imagine when he was still a lieutenant (around young adult and still reach HCQ era I believe) but imagine how loose he is compared to our current general, he certainly have a different tolerance effect

Young lieutenant jing yuan who is getting a little too drunk and is blindly letting his heart slip past infatuation. Living life too fast, too foolishly, with a heart almost freshly squeezed of its naïveté.

When he’s drunk he thinks he could be in love. You’d be the perfect victim—so kind and trustworthy. The idea of having a tender little romance with an elder healer’s apprentice is tantalizing indeed.

You haven’t drank all night despite being generously dragged along by your master to a friendly gathering of prominent figures. And though Jing Yuan is familiar with these faces, it’s clear you are not.

cw | alcohol, fluff

Alcohol or not, he can’t bear to see you look so uncomfortable—like a lost little lamb. When you excuse yourself quietly to take a quick walk around the gardens, he follows suit. The false moons are high in the Luofu’s sky, listening to your quiet woes beside sleeping blooms.

Though the alcohol is prominent in his system, his footing is steady as he makes his way to you sitting by a small pond.

“Sit.” Your command catches him a little off guard. “Before you make yourself a fool if you fall in the water.”

“Not the most common greeting I’ve had the pleasure of receiving, but it’s not distasteful,” Jing Yuan chuckles as he takes a seat next to you.

Your eyes widen, a deep-set panic quickly flashing in different stages on your features.

“L-Lieutenant– I wasn’t aware it was you, I swear!”

“Quite alright. And you’d be right. I am quite drunk, I’ll admit.”

There’s still hesitation, given your rigid posture in his presence. It’s sweet how hard you try to please, but these small cracks in your front are all the more endearing. Some sense of a more natural you.

You sigh, something bone-deep and exhausted. “Apologies, lieutenant. I’m just quite used to the strong smell of alcohol from the many that stop by the apothecary for remedies in the morning after a night of reckless drinking. Master is no different. I meant no offense I just… thought it was master coming for that same remedy as well.”

He laughs at this, a little too loose as the alcohol begins to work its way through his system. Everything moves so quickly and you seem so far away despite being right next to him.

“Quite impressive for the elder healer to depend on his apprentice for such important remedies,” he complements. It makes your hands fidget in your lap, clearly not used to the attention. Always working from the shadows.

“It’s really nothing spectacular. You’re much too kind.” He makes you nervous. In a good way.

It’s so easy for him to want more of you. A splendid respite.

He’s sure he’s smiling stupidly at you, his head resting on his palm as he sits rather lax. The alcohol bids him not to care.

“I’m quite fond of you, if you’ve noticed,” he admits quietly. A bit too forward as the drinks begin to talk.

His words make your face burn hot.

“Surely you’ve had far too much to drink,” you squeak as he slumps against you. Warm and much, much bigger than you. Your hand is immediately on his face, cool and soft where the alcohol warms his cheeks. “How much did you have? Come, quickly. I’ll prepare you a remedy. What if you have alcohol poisoning? Can you walk?”

Jing Yuan follows obediently as you drag him by the arm, walking perfectly fine as you fuss over whether he feels like he may pass out or worse.

“Sit, please,” you motion to the small bench by your bedside.

“Quite the prepared one, aren’t you,” he comments as he watches you quickly run to and fro gathering the ingredients you packed for this small trip. The room is only slightly spinning.

You’re rambling and giving a light scolding, deep in concentration, when he quickly pulls you by the waist. Close. Too close.

Your breath is in your throat, heart beating loudly in your ears. “Lieutenant, you shouldn’t be standing. You need to–”

Before you can finish, his finger is gently on your lips to quiet your nerves. A gentle thing as he sways you both subtly in his hold, your body slowly releasing tension.

“This will pass. What I need,” he presses a chaste kiss upon your temple, “is you.”

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Sweet Doesn't Mean Naive (Fallout Characters)

Fandom: Fallout 4 Scenario: The characters meeting and falling for a reader who is very sweet and helpful and accepting. Initially they may think the reader is naive because of their nature but soon learn differently. Pairings: Cait x Reader, Danse x Reader, Hancock x Reader, MacCready x Reader, Nick x Reader + Copper Howard x Reader.

Notes: Zero uses of Y/N or Sole. I may do a part 2 for the other characters later, these are just the ones that I'm super inspired for rn. [Also this is based on me never being able to select rude options in video games unless I genuinely hate the character lol]

Trigger Warning: These may be slightly OOC as I'm still familiarizing myself with the characters (more so the FO4 characters than Coop)

Cait:

Cait initially underestimates you, thinking you're too sweet and accepting to survive in the Wasteland. However, she's surprised when she discovers your savvy side, handling dangerous situations with intelligence and composure.

Your kindness and willingness to help others win her heart, and she admires your ability to adapt and thrive in challenging circumstances.

Cait falls for you deeply, realizing that your sweetness is not a weakness but a strength.

Danse:

Danse is initially cautious around you, expecting you to be naive due to your sweet and accepting demeanor. However, he's pleasantly surprised when he witnesses your quick thinking and resourcefulness during a perilous situation.

Your kindness and helpfulness earn his respect, and he admires your ability to handle yourself in tough situations.

Danse develops feelings for you, impressed by your combination of kindness and savvy decision-making skills.

Hancock:

Hancock is amused by your sweetness and helpfulness, initially thinking you might be a bit naive about the dangers of the Commonwealth. However, he's pleasantly surprised when you prove to be street smart and savvy in various situations.

Your accepting nature and open-mindedness capture his interest, and he admires your ability to see the good in people while still being aware of the harsh realities of the world.

Hancock develops strong feelings for you, fascinated by your unique blend of kindness and savvy insight.

MacCready:

MacCready is cautious around you at first, assuming you're naive because of your sweet and accepting personality. However, he quickly realizes that you're more savvy than you appear when you show exceptional skill in handling dangerous situations.

Your helpfulness and compassion make a lasting impression on him, and he admires your ability to adapt and survive in tough circumstances.

MacCready falls for you, drawn to your kindness and impressed by your hidden savvy nature.

Nick Valentine:

Nick initially sees you as naive, given your sweet and accepting demeanor. However, he's amazed when you display a keen understanding of complex situations and handle them with grace and intelligence.

He finds your kindness and empathy touching, and he admires your ability to see through people's facades while still maintaining your positive outlook.

Nick develops strong feelings for you, intrigued by your combination of sweetness and savvy awareness of the world around you.

Cooper:

When you first met, Coop was fairly dismissive of you. He thought you were just going to get yourself killed fairly soon. Your generous nature was a sign of naïveté in his eyes. So he wanted as little to do with you as possible.

Then you gave him a months supply of vials for free. And he decided to stick with you. Deciding the best repayment was to protect you from the dangers of the Wasteland and yourself.

That's when he learned just how much he'd underestimated you. You were kind and always willing to help absolutely anyone but you were not one that could taken advantage of.

And that's what really impressed him. The more of your acumen that Cooper saw, the more he grew to care about you. Including your altruistic nature.

[littlebitofdnd]

One teensy thing I've noticed about Rashawn's portrayal of Viola is a strong sense of naïveté. Her language isn't exclusively childlike, but it's all very sweet and very restricted.

This occurred to me because I remembered a few months ago when everyone was analyzing Amy March saying "You're being Mean" in the 2019 Little Women, and I think there's something about that line of thinking that so intrinsically captures a part of Viola.

"I don't like that at all." In the most recent episode comes to mind, but another thing is that Viola almost always calls Ava mama, while Tula only calls Ava mama when she's being more vulnerable.

Rashawn really stresses Viola's role as a younger sister, and I think it actually makes her a really interesting parallel to Jaysohn.

Lila is a very strong, independent character, who, despite her outbursts, is actually very reserved, and has no real interest in power, much like her mother, but Jaysohn is not.

Jaysohn goes into the classroom and immediately decides he wants followers, trusts his mother implicitly instead of doubting her (like Lila, and, by extension, Tula) and is a truly social creature. Jaysohn in the classroom is such a mirror to Viola in episode 1 with the Lukura in some ways.

Jaysohn, though, is the biggest character for a parallel, so take everything about him with a grain of salt. Jaysohn is simultaneously Thorn, Viola, and Ava.

[zorosdimples]

CHAPPED

pairing ༄ kakashi x gn!reader

warnings ༄ slightly suggestive, reader and kakashi are in an established relationship, and there is an implied age gap. this is mostly fluffy fluff (who am i?)

word count ༄ 1129

notes ༄ happy belated birthday to the man who started it all! my first 2d love <3 dedicating this to my kakashi girlies: @honeylavendr, @strawberrystepmom, @purpleskyvenus @rookie98writes and @delirious-donna!

it’s late—too late to be up on a work night, you think as you glance out the window, curtains not yet drawn closed. the moon is suspended high in the black satin sky, countless stars twinkling in adoration, graced by her brilliance.

diffused lamplight and flickering candle flames illuminate your bedroom, their warmth bathing everything in a dusky orange. your nightstand acts as a makeshift workstation, tools at the ready: rose water spray, moisturizer, lip treatment, and a headband.

your boyfriend pads out of the bathroom shirtless, dark pajama pants slung dangerously low on his narrow hips. “all done,” kakashi announces before smoothing a large hand down your back and pressing his still-wet lips to your forehead.

“i told you to pat your skin dry after you washed your face,” you pout, wiping away the chilly droplets that prickle your skin in the wake of his kiss.

kakashi settles on the edge of your shared bed, feet firmly planted on the plush rug. when you first moved in with him, you insisted the rug would feel cozy under your feet on a cold morning—a stark contrast to the unforgiving hardwood floors of your apartment. as usual, you were correct.

your comfort is more important to kakashi than anything else; a truth he probably shouldn’t admit as hokage.

“i did my best, love,” he hums, pulling you in by the hips, lithe fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts to knead the supple flesh.

you grip kakashi’s strong shoulders to keep your balance, willing yourself not to melt into him, knees trembling as he nuzzles your neck. his day-old silvery stubble grazes your throat and sets your nerves afire.

“can’t we just go to bed?” he murmurs, chapped lips moving hotly against your skin. your pulse thrums under his heady breath.

“kashi, you promised,” you whine—overdramatic? yes, but you’re eager to pamper him. “the sooner you cooperate, the sooner this is over,” you tease, pushing yourself away from him to swipe something from the nightstand. the ninja cocks a pale eyebrow when he sees the headband: cheap and fuzzy with a pair of pink and black cat ears.

ridiculous.

“to keep your hair out of your face,” you explain with a mischievous smirk as kakashi rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, tolerating your antics. he opens his mouth to speak, but clamps it shut when you comb your fingers through his unruly hair, pushing the snowy mane out of his face. gently, you slide the headband in place. tufts of hair poke out in front of his ears, his expression that of a disgruntled cat.

your lighthearted giggle has his slate irises fixed on your carefree radiance as he prods (voice betraying his amusement), “what’s so funny?”

you shake your head and press a delicate kiss to his cheek before grabbing the rose water spray. “nothing. you just look cute.”

“i think you’re the only person who would describe me as cute,” he chuckles, sharp incisors glinting in the low light. you think of contesting his statement, but his naïveté is endearing.

at your instruction, kakashi’s eyelids flutter shut. you spritz the rose water onto his face, the refreshing mist coating his skin, beading on his ivory eyelashes and at his cupid’s bow. you then pop the lid off of your moisturizer bottle, pumping some of the product onto your fingertips.

kakashi doesn’t ask what all the steps mean, nor do you feel the need to explain. he has watched you do your skincare routine day and night more times than he can count. he knows each product you use by name, what purpose they serve, and the order in which they need to be applied. it’s not like you asked him to memorize all of this; it’s just a habit of his—soaking in every detail about you, what you care about, and what you do.

as you massage the buttery moisturizer into his skin, your boyfriend keeps his thoughtful gaze on you: the furrow of your focused brow, the way your front teeth catch your bottom lip, the slight flare of your nostrils. your touch is featherlight as you rub tender circles of the product all over his face, careful to not get too close to his eyes, taking it up to his hairline and down his neck.

satisfied with your work, you rub the remnants of the moisturizer into your hands. kakashi seizes the opportunity to pull you into his lap and guide your legs to wrap securely around his waist.

“what?” you squeak in surprise.

“what?” kakashi parrots back, drinking in the alluring metamorphosis of your features from shock to annoyance to amusement.

you cup his face—large in your soft embrace—admiring the beauty of the man you love. “your skin is perfect, it’s not fair,” you playfully huff, smoothing your fingertips across his high cheekbones and down the distinct cant of his nose.

kakashi barks out a laugh, falling on the sheets to his back. you follow his lead, leaning over him, hair framing you both in privacy. “i’m pushing forty, my love. my skin is nowhere near perfect.” one of his scarred palms cradles your head while the other traces down your bare arm to rest on your waist. “you have youth on your side,” he rumbles, uncharacteristically wistful.

he isn’t wrong. there’s the jagged scar that bisects his left eye, a sigil borne of recklessness. kakashi once lived as though he had no future; life was merely death’s antechamber—a brutal purgatory of violence and meaningless suffering. he lived with no regard of himself as a person, but rather as a vessel of retribution, a tool to be hidden in the shadows away from light and life.

now, kakashi has proof of life, etchings across his flesh to mark the passage of time: his gambles and failures, his missteps and wrongs. but as your fingers map the planes of his face—fair skin, sinuous veins, laughter lines, dappled moles—you realize that his supposed shortcomings only make him more perfect to you. he’s just a man, after all. he’s fallible and flawed but he’s yours.

“your lips are a little chapped,” you warble as you reach over to the nightstand. you open up the jar of your favorite lip treatment and scoop out some of the balm using your pinkie.

as you move toward his mouth, kakashi catches your wrist, pearly eyes ablaze. without breaking eye contact, he leads your hand to his face, guiding it so that the product on your finger spreads across his lips. when your wrist falls, he wraps you in his arms, any space between your bodies too much to bear.

“you need to rub the balm in,” you whisper.

“sure,” your lover sighs before smearing his lips against your own.

[lurkingshan]

Hi. I recently finished watching Coffee Prince based on a few recs posts that you had put out and MY GOD I'm so glad I decided to give it a try. (This was the first Kdrama where I got past 2 eps) I loved this sooo sooo much.

Do you have any recs for media (queer or otherwise) with similar strong characters as Eun-Chan? Even otherwise, thanks for your great rec posts!

Another Coffee Prince convert! Thank you for telling me, anon, it gives me so much joy every time someone gets to experience it for the first time. And I am not surprised Go Eun Chan captured your heart, everyone who meets her feels the same.

Since I don't know exactly what about Eun Chan captivated you, I am not entirely sure what kind of characters you are looking for. Is it her generosity of spirit? Is it that endearing mix of bravery and naïveté? Is it the way she keeps going through confusion and uncertainty? Is it that she is just so lacking in artifice and unapologetically herself? Or maybe it's her gender questioning journey that spoke to you.

Given that I am not precisely sure, I am just going to give you a mix of great dramas of various genres with strong characters that give me some aspect of that Eun Chan swag--feel free to come back and ask for more recs if you have something else in mind! In alpha order:

Be Melodramatic (Viki)

Shan found another excuse to rec Be Melodramatic? Must be a day ending in y. But seriously this drama is full of fantastic characters and there's a strong thread here about being yourself unapologetically and finding the people who love you for that.

Great Men Academy (grey)

Another character experiencing gender, but this time via a magical-unicorn-induced body transformation (don't ask I could not possibly explain it). This story is all about Love figuring herself out and the bisexual king who loves her in any body.

Healer (Viki)

Chae Yeong Shin is Park Min Young's best character ever and it's not close. She has a lot of Eun Chan's relentless spirit and optimism in the face of life's nonsense, and she's a spunky one. Healer is also just a great action romance with a lot of fun hijinks and a very swoony male lead, if you're into that kind of thing.

Joshi-teki Seikatsu (Life As A Girl) (grey)

Miki is an all-time great character. A trans woman rebooting her life away from home, she is more assured about who she is but has a lot of Eun Chan's core generosity and bravery. I love her so much.

Kieta Hatsukoi (Viki)

Chaotic confusion with a heart of gold, thy name is Aoki.

Koisenu Futari (grey)

Sakuko, my beloved. This show is about two people on the aroace spectrum connecting and finding companionship and family in each other, and it's so beautiful.

Light on Me (Viki)

Woo Tae Kyung is definitely sitting at the "unapologetically themselves" table with Eun Chan. And he has a love triangle, too!

My Lovely Sam Soon (Viki)

If you're up for an even older kdrama, I love this one to pieces. Kim Sam Soon has a lot in common with Go Eun Chan, in that she doesn't perform femininity the way people expect and she is trying to find her place in the world, all while crushing on a guy who feels very out of her league. This is a journey for both lead characters, and I was so moved by where they ended up that I burst into tears at the end.

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat (Furritsubs)

My girls!!! I love every character in this show. I don't think it's possible to watch this drama and not find someone to connect with; it's all about exploring the many different ways to be a woman and finding the people who will love and respect you for who you are. And it's very queer while doing it!

Twenty-five Twenty-one (Netflix)

Na Hee Do is a legend, and not just because of the fencing. This show is her coming of age story and you will love her.

Weightlifting Fair Kim Bok Joo (Viki)

Kim Bok Joo, another heroine wrestling with her femininity as she navigates coming of age and changing relationships. She's fantastic.

As always, if you have trouble finding any of these, you can always hmu (off anon, because we don't share secret files in public lol). Hope you find something to enjoy among these!

[star-wars-truths]

Imagine an AU where Maul manages to kill Obi-Wan and takes his place in the OT

In Twin Suns, Maul somehow kills Obi-Wan. This results in him losing all direction in his life. He’s spent decades craving for revenge, and now that he’s finally achieved it, he has nothing left. Maul sticks around on Tatooine, even moving into Obi-Wan’s sad little hut. He has this annoying little voice in his head that tells him to do good things??? (It’s really just Obi-Wan’s force ghost that Maul can’t see)

When Luke shows up with the droids and Leia’s message (since nobody knows Maul killed Obi-Wan), they just look at each other like 👁️👁️ who tf are you??? But because Maul can’t resist the opportunity to have an apprentice, he goes with Luke to deliver the Death Star plans. And because the voice in his head told him to. Besides, this kid is strong in the force, not teaching him would be a missed opportunity.

Luke still gets Anakin’s lightsaber (Maul didn’t want it since blue isn’t his color). Unfortunately he misses out on a lot of important exposition. Like the fact that his father was a jedi. Oh well. That’s probably not important.

They get to the Death Star, Maul does Obi-Wan’s job. When he runs into Vader, he just runs away because Maul is not stupid enough to stay and fight. So now he’s on his way to the rebellion with the rest of the characters.

Vader is left wondering a) how the hell Maul is still alive and b) what was he doing on the Death Star???

Maul joins the rebellion (despite anyone who recognizes him telling him he can’t do that) because he’s desperate to have Luke as his apprentice, and Luke in his naïveté vouches for Maul because surely this guy who has helped them a lot is a good guy 😊

[marilynmonroefanfics]

Random Imagine

Anthony Bridgerton x ChubbyMale!OC

Imagine this, Peter Granville, son to Henry and Lucy Granville, catches the eye of Anthony Bridgerton. Without even having to try.

Peter doesn’t have the artistic ability of his father nor the charisma and strong personality of his mother. However, his parents always encouraged him in his likings. The young Granville is highly intelligent, as a child he adored spending time in his room, reading books his parents lovingly purchased for him.

He’s reserved, kind and soft-spoken. Anthony first notices him when the Peter was invited by Lady Bridgerton to spend an evening with the family.

Over tea, Daphne and Eloise were absolutely enamoured by him, even Hyacinth and Gregory seemed interested - Lady Bridgerton couldn’t believe her eyes - her two youngest children were patiently taking turns in Peter’s lap, while he spoke of his interests and appeased the family’s interest.

Anthony, although he was pretending to read on the couch, discreetly admired the young Granville, everything about him - his sweet face, his beautiful lips, the way he blushed at the overwhelming attention he was getting, the small stutter he had because he was nervous - he was obsessed.

Imagine, Peter as a respected young historian, a man who spoke multiple languages - French, Spanish, German, Italian, Greek… - a man who took his parents love and care, completely transforming himself. He built a career for himself, while honouring his humble beginnings. He was someone Anthony truly admired and truly desired.

Imagine, Queen Charlotte absolutely loving Peter, showering him with titles and honours: 1st Baron Granville of Potheridge, 1st Viscount Lansdowne, 1st Earl of…

Peter was known as Lord Granville, a title Anthony loved to use. It felt right, the young man deserved it, he was surely more honourable than most of the men and women in the peerage.

Imagine Anthony, who would send Peter all kinds of gifts, sweet perfumes who reminded the Viscount of the young Granville, amazing jewels that reminded him of the latter’s gorgeous eyes. Or even beautiful quill pens, in hopes Peter would write him a letter.

Imagine, Anthony adoring the sweetness and naïveté of his crush (or soon to be husband). Oh! How amazing it would be for Anthony to teach Peter, how to kiss, how to be touched, hearing his wonderful moans-

Anthony Bridgerton definitely has a hugeee crush on Peter.

[equalperson]

one thing they don't tell you about having anxiety, psychosis, a PD, or any other diagnosis that causes social anxiety/paranoia as a (multiply) marginalized person is that your fears are much more likely to be proven right than the same thoughts in a white/male/cishet/abled/thin/etc. individual.

the fact of the matter is that most people are not actively hostile; most people aren't quick to shame or mock their peers, nor do they have any strong desire to target or hurt anyone.

HOWEVER, most people are--unfortunately--quick to ignore or attack the needs of marginalized individuals. this isn't to say that the average person actively plans out acts of violence, but rather that they are likely to "other" us and our needs.

if you're a POC, it's not unlikely that white people will treat you more harshly than others. if you're disabled, it's not unlikely that abled people will abuse and/or neglect your vulnerabilities. if you're fat, it's not unlikely that thinner people will shame you for your appearance. so on and so forth.

now, is this to say that you can NEVER trust someone outside of your same demographics? no.

I am saying, though, that the common narrative that fears of rejection/persecution are "all in your head" doesn't hold true when your differences go beyond those baseline fears (or even just if said fears become obvious to others).

learning to cope with and/or recover from anxiety/paranoia as a marginalized person is different; you have to figure out the line between panic and self-preservation, peace and naïveté.

unfortunately, it's not as simple as just "trust other people and everything will work out," because the amount of people we can really trust to respect us is typically limited.

I don't have any particular advice, but I certainly do know that psychiatry's dismissal of all distrust as just being "in your head" has done nothing to benefit Me as an oppressed person.

[weavebitch]

Lord Enver Gortash: Dearest Karlach. I'd busy myself finding Orin if I were you. I'll still be here for any unfinished business, once you've secured your camp.

Karlach: That's it? That's all you have to say to me?

Lord Enver Gortash: Were you hoping for something else? A word of wisdom? A hug?

Karlach: Thanks to you, I don't hope for things anymore. I just take whatever it is I want. See you soon, motherfucker.

Lord Enver Gortash: You most certainly will.

---

Here's the thing: You can't tell me he wasn't at least a little proud of her in that moment.

What he had to endure in the hells when he was growing up made him into the person he is -- ruthless, merciless, and powerful. He is undoubtedly proud to be where he is in life. He condemns his parents for what they did to him, but he would have enough reason to do that even if they didn't sell him to Raphael.

However awful Avernus was, it brought him in a position where he is a) not poor anymore, b) extremely influential, and c) basically free to do what he likes. He wouldn't be there if his parents hadn't given him away -- in his eyes that might have been the only thing they ever did right.

And then he meets Karlach, a teenager who's growing up in the wrong part of Baldur's Gate, who reminds him of his younger self a little: clever (though in a different way), headstrong, resilient. She can be shaped just like him, she just needs a guiding hand and a chance to prove herself.

So when Zariel asks if he has a guinea pig for her, someone who is strong enough to endure being turned into a living weapon, it's perfect. It's a win/win situation. He gets whatever he wants from Zariel, Zariel gets what she wants from him, Karlach gets what will be good for her eventually, even if she doesn't understand it yet.

It's an act of affection in his eyes: I'm giving you a chance. You can have so much more power than you ever imagined, you just have to prove yourself first and then take it. I'm sure you can do it. And so she goes against her will, and is lucky enough to get out a decade later, and she comes to him and she proves him right.

She is angry and not afraid to show it. Her burning heart is a marvelous piece of technology and a powerful weapon. She is hardened, she is ruthless, she is used to doing what she has to do without second thoughts. There is nothing left of her adolecent insecurities and soft edges. She doesn't rely on people anymore. She has lost her naïveté. She doesn't hope anymore, instead she takes. And Gortash's plan worked just as he thought it would.

[psychosith]

Echo

cal kestis x reader

summary: despite being close for years, you and cal go your separate ways after a particularly harsh argument. cal doesn’t see or hear of you for a long time, but stumbles across an old jacket of yours that reveals something to him

warnings: angsttttt, yelling/arguing, injuries, death, perhaps ooc!mean cal

a/n: i’m so sorry to the reqs sitting in my drafts ive had no motivation😭 specifically to the person who requested modern!anakin @ a halloween party it’s a little late for that now i feel like…. but anyways y’all might not know this but i’m obsessed w our boy cal and UGH. this prompt from @fallen-vic just struck me right and i had to get writing right away

the last four months had been a blur.

one second you were stripping an old star destroyer on bracca with cal, and the next he was fighting an imperial inquisitor while you cowered away in the corner. then you had boarded a ship with a lanky woman and abrasive latero. they had taken you to a planet hidden from the empire, a place where you thought you and cal could live safely. you couldn’t have been more wrong.

cal returned from the temple on bogano that first day talking about restoring the jedi order and a holocron? from there, it was all downhill. back and forth between kashyyyk, zeffo, and dathomir, all the while cal was forced to face strong enemies that left him on the brink of death every day. and you were tasked with patching him up at the end of every mission.

too many times have you entered his rooms while he was preparing to leave again and begged him to stay. it was always the same answer- i’ll be back before you know it. he couldn’t know, though, the feelings you harbored for him. he couldn’t understand how it pained you physically to watch him leave and come back beaten and bruised. but you stayed, because you loved him, and because you believed he wanted you with him.

it was all too much for you today. it seemed insane; they were planning to infiltrate the fortress inquisitorius and retrieve the holocron. you had stopped on a small planet to stock up on supplies before the big mission, and you were in your usual position: pleading with cal.

“cal, please,” you begged, tears welling up in your eyes. “this is just- it’s too dangerous cal! i mean, an imperial fort, for fucks sake! cal, if you didn’t come back from this… i don’t know-“

he cut you off with a reassuring hand on your arm. “y/n, i’ll be alright. i’ll have cere with me, and i’m stronger than ever. trust me.”

“you say that every time, you know. and every time, without fail, you come back closer to death than i’ve ever seen you. cal, we’ve found you passed out in the mud on kashyyyk. we’ve found you slumped against a generator on zeffo with a blaster wound in your stomach. no one will be there to find you if things go wrong this time, cal.” you say numbly, vaguely aware that there’s nothing you can say to make him stay.

“you’re being dramatic.” he says plainly. “you have no reason to be worried. i always come back, y/n. this time will be no different. you need to calm down.”

you groan in frustration, at his naïveté. “no, cal! you don’t understand… how much it hurts to watch you go. and who knows where you would be without me to put your pieces back together.”

you hear him scoff and look down at your hands as tears finally fall down your cheeks. you can tell he’s stressed by the tension in his shoulders.

“without you? y/n, i don’t need you to do this.” his words hurt, but you try to tell yourself the mission is getting to his head, that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying.

“y/n,” he says, waving a hand in front of your face, “did you hear me? i. don’t. need. you. if you’re so worried about me, maybe you should just leave. then i wouldn’t be bothering you so much.” he stood up angrily and marched off.

was he being honest? did he really want you to leave? all these years you had told yourself that he needed you with him, but maybe you had been mistaken.

you didn’t give yourself time to think. cere and greez had both made it clear that your presence on the mantis was unnecessary, and now that cal had said the same you had to go. you only packed the bare essentials: a canister of water, a couple weeks of rations, and a thick jacket for cold nights. you left through the front entrance without a word to anyone. cal simply watched you go.

a year later - cal's pov

there was no use in trying to hide it, it had been a hard year for cal. a year made much harder by your absence. he had tried to tell himself that you leaving was your decision, that it wasn't his fault. but as he played the argument over in his mind he found himself regretting everything he'd said. cal had been nervous, scared even, of the upcoming mission in the fortress. he'd let trilla and the empire get in his head, and it had cost him everything.

even after he'd retrieved the holocron - and ultimately destroyed it - he never searched for you. he didn't know why. the urge had struck him many times, but he never knew where to begin looking or what he would say to get you back.

it hurt even now, as cal lay in his bunk on the mantis weeping silently to himself. the mantis was empty, the engine humming softly as it flew through hyperspace. all the lights were out and cal's pillow was damp with tears. he hesitantly rose from his bed, staggering to the navigation panel in a sleep-deprived stupor. his cheeks are stained and his hair is tousled as he falls back into the pilot's chair, and he plugs the coordinates to a forgotten outer rim planet into the navigation system.

cal was exhausted, hungry, and mentally drained, but he managed to make it back to his bunk before he passed out.

. . .

something in the cockpit beeped quite loudly, waking cal from his sleep and alerting him that they were nearing their destination. the royal blue color of nez peron was pleasing to the eye, but brought back painful memories for cal. this was where they had made their last supply run before heading toward the fortress. this was the last place he saw the love of his life.

landing the mantis was the easy part; finding you, not so much. cal started in the sparse cities, scanning cantinas and shops, asking about a y/n l/n at every apartment complex and inn. he began to lose hope as he neared the edge of the latest city. just then he remembered you talking absentmindedly as he worked on his lightsaber, saying how it was your dream to live in the forest and live off the lands. it sounded crazy at the time, but now it made sense.

with a newfound passion, cal began searching the forests and plains for you. each dead end made him want to find you more and more, but there were no signs of life anywhere he looked.

one day, he was scanning the ground for any human tracks when a piece of fabric caught his eye. it was dusty, black, and oddly familiar. there were pieces of the same fabric just a little further up the trail he was following. up ahead, cal could just make out the shape of your thick winter coat on the ground.

his steps picked up into a light jog as he neared the jacket. as he examined it closer, he saw a dark stain had dried down on the stomach, and when he bent over to pick it up he was flooded with a powerful force echo.

_______

you had misjudged how hard life in the wild would be. the coat you wore did almost nothing to keep you warm, the water you brought only lasted for a few days, and the rations you thought would last had gone bad within the month. you were cold and hungry, and had only a pairing knife to ward off any threats in the forest. this would be a crucial mistake.

it was a particularly cold day and you were resting against a tree when you heard the crunch of leaves and the distinct mechanical whirring of an electrostaff. raiders. well, just one this time. it was a difficult feat, but you managed to ward off the raider not without sustaining many injuries. you had garnered a deep wound in your thigh and a large gash in your shoulder, luckily most of your vital organs were intact.

you hardly had time to catch your breath before a large mammal had sprung up from a ditch and pinned you to the ground. you screamed and struggled for your knife. your wounds had impaired your fighting skills, and you didn’t last long before the predator had beaten you into the floor. it was so, so cold. you must have lost your jacket at some point. you supposed the animal had lost interest, as it wandered off back into the trees, leaving you in a pool of your own blood.

the sun set behind the trees and you were still laying there, unable to move, slowly succumbing to the cold embrace of death. you could form only one coherent thought in your adrenaline crazed mind, and thus it became your last word.

“cal”

_______

the memory was like a knife to the heart for cal. he was helpless as he watched you draw your last breath, only to utter his name before closing your eyes for the final time. it finally dawned on him.

you were dead.

cal fell to his knees beside your tattered coat, a broken cry escaping his lips. it was all his fault. if’s and should’ves ran circles around his mind, but he understood the depth of this. you were gone, stolen from this world far to soon. cal mourned. he sobbed into his hands for hours on end, cursing you for leaving, cursing cere and greez for letting you leave, and cursing himself for letting his love for you blind him. of course he needed you. he always would. but he couldn’t have you any more.

his mind was blurry as he frantically followed the path he was on, searching for your body. he tripped and stumbled down a leaf covered hill, where he saw you. you were exactly as you were in the force echo, but your cheeks were hollow and your skin was sickly green. you had been dead for a long time. cal ran to your body, crying your name. he hoisted you into his arms and wept into your dirty hair.

“i love you” he muttered softly, hoping that perhaps you could hear the words he was to cowardly to speak when you were alive.

a/n 2: BYE the ending is so rushed. sorry.

[dreadsuitsamus]

Dating Goku Headcanons | Goku x Reader |

author's note: i just love me some son goku!!!

pairing: goku x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, light nsfw mentions but nothing explicit

when you met goku, you were just out grocery shopping like any other tuesday

he wasn't even actually shopping there, he was just mooching off all of the free sample tables

they asked him to leave just as you were checking out, and so you ended up striking conversation with him in the parking lot, as his physique didn't imply he was starving, yet he was eating like he was

and as you walk away to your car with your groceries, you wonder just how you got finessed into cooking dinner for him that night

ever since he got a taste of your cooking, Goku was absolutely hooked on you

the key to a Saiyan's heart truly is through his stomach

Goku isn't the most romantic guy, and he can be a little clueless at first, but he's a swift learner and soon figures out your cues

his hugs are warm and strong, and he's always happy to give them

a good listener, and sometimes actually gives very good advice

loves, loves, loves kissing

Goku has, on more than one occasion, gotten so excited to kiss you that he's cut you off mid-sentence with a big ole smoochy smooch

and by the time he's done, you never remember what you were talking about

he doesn't know if he prefers to give or receive kisses, as both are so amazing to him

also very much loves to have sex

Goku can go as often as you want; he will literally never tire out before you

unsurprisingly, he's a generous lover too

goku loves to nap just as much as he loves to train, so getting quality time can be a bit of a struggle if you aren't in the mood for a nap

he won't get mad if you wake him up so you can do something together, but it's ideal to have a big sandwich at the ready so he won't pout about being woken up

Goku will literally wear that same damn gi every day if you don't organize outfits for him, so you end up playing dress up a lot

he's a very stunning model, and nine times out of ten you end up tearing the clothes right back off of him

Goku is literally the perfect boyfriend for when you have a sudden urge to rearrange all of the furniture

he's more than happy to move everything for you, even sometimes offering his own ideas or desires for where certain things should go

he's also perfect for dusting the ceiling fans and corners, since he's not only tall, but can fly

he's also got the most adorable sneeze

is always happy to see you, whether it's been an hour or a day or a week

he's a bit like a golden retriever puppy, if you really think about it

his joy upon seeing your face is increased tenfold after a day spent in the hyperbolic time chamber, as it's been a whole year for him!

he'll scoop you into those even stronger arms, kissing you and nuzzling you and talking a thousand miles a minute about this, that and the third

you and Goku don't fight often, but it's not an impossibility

sometimes Goku's naïveté can be frustrating, mostly when it comes to his rigorous training schedule

you see him every day, but it doesn't always feel like you're getting much time with him since you have to do the majority of the house chores and work full time

Goku doesn't argue much, and will usually just let you get your frustrations out before responding

you don't see his war face often, as you're not a fighter and never do see the battlefield

but when he's genuinely upset at you, you're pretty sure he makes the same face as he would to his enemies

being on the side of Goku's cold shoulder or disappointment is the worst feeling you've ever known, and you find yourself incredibly lucky that it's not only rare, but fleeting when it does happen

Goku sees so much of the good in anything and he'd never let a small mistake hold him back from the happiness you make him feel

loves to tell you how much he loves you, and thanks you often for all that you do for him

Goku is honest to a fault, and will tell you if an outfit or color looks bad on you

and while he's always down for a fight, his demeanor is less happy-go-lucky and more i-will-fuck-you-up whenever you get hit on by another man

jealous Goku is not a nice man, but good lord he's the best lover you've ever had

Goku has practically turned your home into an animal rescue with how many stray kittens and injured birds he finds in need of help

after he brought home a whole litter of kittens and their feral mother and begged you to let them stay for a while with those damned puppy dog eyes, you decided that the ASPCA should put him in their advertisements

Being with Goku has made traveling immensely easier and you go on vacations more often than you typically would, thanks to instant transmission and his ability to fly being able to nix your travel costs to a near zero

sometimes he'll pull out the old nimbus cloud and take you for a ride, letting you get a good look at the stars and all of their constellations

Goku is beautiful in the moonlight, and the spark in his kisses while underneath it feels stronger than normal

you've never felt this much happiness before meeting Goku, and each day is somehow better than the last

Goku isn't perfect, but he's everything you need and more

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚓𝚒 𝙼𝚎𝚣𝚘𝚞 - 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐|𝙹𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚢

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

Ft oblivious to flirting + bit of Bimbo Reader, possessive Shouji, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own BNHA or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

WC: 3,130

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Includes pervy “friends”, 1(One) use of N/n, 2nd Person POV, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔦 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: reader is a leetle bit dumb(more naïve ig) in this but like,, iss okay, you got a good boi looking out for you. Mr Octopussy is ready to swoop in and show Mr Flirt just who you belong to 😌 Kinda OOC ig??

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

The new transfer to Class B kept seeking you out and always striking up conversations with you, standing closer than necessary. He would ask you all about yourself and occasionally would shower you with gifts you’d mentioned before.

You assumed he was just being nice. That he was trying to make his first friend at this brand new school. You knew how scary and awkward it can be to be the new kid, especially in the middle of term.

Apparently, he had made some more friends of his own in Class B and they tagged along with him to meet you. You leaned against the wall and the boy had his hand resting comfortably next to you as he spoke to you. He was continuously complimenting you and telling you how good your uniform looks on you. It accentuates all the best parts of you.

You blushed and smiled at his kind words and thanked him. He started to adjust his arm to get more comfortable, leaning his forearm on the wall rather than just his hand, incidentally bringing him closer to you.

“Oh, sorry, am I too close? I can move a little if you want,” You smiled at him, slightly gesturing to the side.

“Nah, cutie, you’re just fine where you are.” He smirked, seemingly perfectly fine with your proximity. ‘Oh well, if it doesn’t bother him, then I guess it’s fine!’

“Hey!” You heard a familiar voice call out from down the hall. Excitedly, you looked over and saw your boyfriend coming over.

“Mezou!” You cheered and slid yourself out from in between your friend and the wall, jogging over to him, not catching the boy and his new friends gladly looking at your ass when your skirt lifted up as you ran.

“Princess, who are these guys?” Mezou asked you, wearily glancing up at the boys, seeing them all staring right at your ass. He wrapped his arms around you, making sure that his webbing obstructed their view.

“Oh! This is the new transfer student,” you smile up at your boyfriend innocently, “and these are some of the friends he made in Class B!” You grin proudly at your new friend having found comrades in his new class.

“How come he was leaning so close to you?” Mezou asked, his glare softening when he looks down at you.

“Oh, he was just getting comfortable. He said the distance didn’t bother him… do you think he was just being nice to not hurt my feelings?” You suddenly asked quietly, a worried expression taking over your face, your arms coming up to your chest and making yourself smaller for fear that you had actually upset your friend. Seeing your genuine worry and your total obliviousness to the situation, Mezou felt so many emotions at once. He fell even deeper in love with you, yet he was vaguely loathing your naïveté, the strong feeling to comfort you and ensure you knew that you hadn’t done anything wrong, and most of all burning rage at the boys who were obviously seconds away from entirely taking advantage of your oblivious innocence.

“No, princess. Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I promise.” He didn’t lower his mask but you could tell he had a comforting smile on his lips, making you give your own small smile.

“He’s right, princess. Everything is just fine! Why don’t you come on back over here and we can keep talking?” Your friend grinned at you when you looked over your shoulder at him and it made you smile as well, though you didn’t notice your boyfriend seething and practically growling at the boy using his nickname for you.

“You wanna join us, ‘Zou?” You smiled lovingly up at your boyfriend and slightly worked your way out of his hold but grabbed his hand to tug him along.

“Sure, princess.” Shouji smiled at you as best he could with how much he wanted to pummel the little naïve asshole you call a friend.

When you returned to the group with Shouji, he rested himself against the wall and wrapped his arms around your waist. His fingers toyed at the cinched hem of your skirt and even dared to dip below it as a tease to the other boys to show just who you belong to. To show that they would never get a taste of you, only he was able to claim you like that.

You giggled at his actions as you kept talking to your new friends. All their eyes kept darting to the movements with hungry gazes, some of them mixed with jealousy. Mezou made 3 of his other limbs simply hands and kept his 4th as a mouth. He used his other hands to roam over your body, remaining innocent enough though still staking his claim. With his hands roaming your body and his mouth speaking, though entirely normal conversation, so close to your neck that you could feel his hot breath against that spot that he always loved to mark.

It ignited a Pavlovian Response. Wetness began to build between your legs. You tried to stay focussed on the conversation and just clenched your thighs and rubbed them together. You tried to relieve some of the tingling in your little cunny but it wasn’t working.

“You alright, princess?” Mezou’s voice cut through your thoughts. You didn’t want to admit that you felt so needy so you bit your lip and leaned into your boyfriend as you nodded.

“‘M okay.” You continued to rub your thighs together, though.

“Oh, princess. You feeling needy?” His voice was huskier with faux concern laced in his words. He smirked under his mask when you shyly nodded against him. “How about I help you then?” His bottom 4 arms, slid down further to just under your skirt, the lowest 2 hands having wound up low on your hips and then ended up groping at the meat of your thighs.

“S’it okay? In fron’a people?” You sent a quick glance at your new friend and his classmates who were all watching the scene unfold intensely.

“Oh, don’t mind us, N/n, we don’t mind at all, do we, boys?” He looked around his group of friends and earned 4 nods in return and murmurs of confirmation. “See? We don’t mind one bit.” He shot a sleazy smirk at you and let his eyes drift downwards.

Surely that was just a smile to comfort you, though. And of course he’d look! I mean it’s just instinct to see something new! He’s such a good friend!

“See, princess? It’s alright. Let me take care of you.” He slid his bottom hand around the backs of your thighs and began to hoist you up. You instinctively hopped to allow him to pick you up and let him rest your back against his solid chest and spread your thighs apart as he lifted you effortlessly, like he was holding a couple of grapes.

His top hands busied themselves with your breasts while his middle hand went to your skirt. It had bunched up at your hips from the new position but he moved it further out of the way, fully exposing your panties.

“Damn, you look so pretty like this, princess. All spread out for me.” Mezou extended a limb to pull his mask down. He knew you loved to see his mouth, his real mouth. That still baffles and flusters him to no end when you beg to see it, especially when you insist on pressing soft, sweet kisses to his scars, as well. He also decided, just this once, to use this unexpected appearance to scare the other boys enough to back off of what’s his.

“Look so perfect. So fucking tasty.” He kissed your neck while his hand at your skirt rubbed over your clothes pussy. A high-pitched moan was drawn out of you with the feeling, it felt better than usual. Maybe it’s because your new friends were seeing you like this? Were watching you?

His other middle limb, still a mouth, cooed at you as he pleasured you in your clothed slit and your breasts. He gave teasing nips and sucks on your neck, as well. The hands on your breasts moved to properly unbutton your uniform blouse and pull it open to reveal a matching bra to your pretty panties. Mezou pulled back from your neck to gaze appreciatively at the sight with a groan low enough to almost be a growl. His lip was pulled between his teeth, his larger, sharp canine lightly digging into the skin. He didn’t stop his hand’s movements over the damp material over your gorgeous cunt as he returned his top pair of hands to your bra-clad tits.

“Look so pretty, baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good, yea? That sound good, princess?” Mezou asked lowly, pressing a sweet, hot kiss to your cheek.

“Yes.. Yes, please..!” You nearly begged with a lust clouded dazed expression as you undulated your hips slightly. He smirked and quickened his hand’s pace rubbing over your damp panties and focussed small loops over your clit. His hands on your chest dipped into your bra and squeezed at your plush tits directly. You whined at the pleasure because it felt so good but it just wasn’t enough.

Taking pity on you, Mezou slid his fingers to the edge of your panties and pulled them to the side, exposing your bare pussy to the boys in front of you. They all let out hums of appreciation for the sight and looked as if they wanted to come forward and feel it for themselves. Before any of them could even have a chance, though, your boyfriend returned his fingers to sliding over your wet folds.

“Fuck-! Me-zou!” You moaned out at the feeling and tried to buck your hips into his hand, though your suspended position made that difficult. He chuckled in your ear as he kissed at the sensitive spot just under it.

His hand sped up and quickly rubbed your pretty little cunny, his fingers catching on your sopping little hole. You moaned out every time he just barely dipped in just to move away before he fully slipped his fingers inside you. As he nipped at your neck and kissed your cheek, his eyes watched your slick folds intently and finally, he couldn’t resist any longer.

Finally, finally, he pushed 2 fingers into you and pumped them at a pace just barely too slow. He had you whining for more in no time at all and he happily complied when he knew that he’d get your cute little mewls and noises as a reward. He sped up his pumps into your cunny and moved his mouth limb to your swollen little clitty. Your loud cry of pleasure went straight to his throbbing hard cock. He groaned against the juncture of your shoulder and neck at the sound and the taste of your perfect pussy.

He would never get tired of your taste and would indulge at any given opportunity. His added tongue lapped at your clit while his fingers plunged inside you, over and over. Your head was thrown back against his shoulder as you moaned wantonly like a pretty whore for your new friends to hear. The boys all had taken to palming their bulges and appreciated your noises and the sight of your pretty cunny getting finger fucked.

“Mez… Mezou..!” You panted in a high-pitched, strained voice and brought your hands up to wrap your arms over your boyfriend’s shoulders. “I-.. I’m gon-gonna.. haah!” You struggled to get the words out but Mezou knew exactly what you were trying to say.

“I know, princess. Go ahead, baby. Cum for me, show your new friends how you look when you cum.” He growled into your ear and lightly nipped at your earlobe. The deep, heavy with lust voice in your ear was the final pushing point and made the tight coil in your lower belly snap. You came with a cry, muffled by your boyfriend sealing his lips over your own in a heated kiss. Your toes curled in your sweet little uniform flats and your legs tensed in your pleasure. Your orgasm almost started to drip down before his mouth limb started to lap up your juices and ate you put until you came down from your climax high.

You laid limply in your lover’s hold as you huffed for air while your spongy walls spammed around nothing. Mezou cooed at you for being so good and for cumming so prettily.

“You ready, princess? You want my thick cock in your pretty little pussy?” His gravelly voice cooed into your ear as you heard his zipper being pulled down, though you didn’t know when he had extended one of his limbs to do so. The thought alone of his thick, hot cock fucking you so deep inside had your walls twitching even more and a weak, wanton mewl to escape your throat.

“Yes..! Yes, ‘Zou, please-!” Your begging was swiftly cut off when you felt the bulbous tip of his dick pushing against your sopping wet entrance. Your breath hitched at the feeling and you moaned out at the mixture of pleasure and the bit of pain that came with the stretch every time your boyfriend fucked your pretty little pussy. He continued to push forward and finally breached your tight cunt.

Swiftly, he bottomed out in one thrust and earned a near scream of pleasure. Mezou left you panting while he let you adjust to his size again and used his limb’s mouth to lightly lick at your clit to assist you in adjusting to the pure pleasure. When he felt you try to grind your hips down against him he took your silent hint.

“Such a good girl for me, princess. So fuckin’ good for me.” He hummed as he started moving his hips and lifting you in his arms, up and down, up and down, on his cock. As he slid easily in and out of your precious cunny, he made disdainful eye contact with your new friend. The stupid boy who thought he ever had a chance with you, all because of your sweet, innocent naïveté. He was silently telling him that this show was the closest he would ever get to your body like this, that you are his, and his alone. That your body is his to ravish. His to love. His to pleasure.

The boy huffed in annoyed defeat and resigned himself to simply enjoying the show. The group watched with great interest as Mezou’s thick cock slid into you, faster and faster until his middle arms, now both with hands, were tightly gripping your waist and used that grip and the tight one on your thighs to bounce you almost dizzyingly up and down on his length.

“Oh Kami, princess. So tight, so perfect for me, isn’t that right? I’ll bet your friends are very happy to see you like this, isn’t that right, boys?” He called out condescendingly to the group whose eyes were still glued to your form. They voiced their agreement, though none of them looked away from the sight of your pussy getting pounded so good.

“‘Zou..! ‘Zou-! S-o good! Feels good!” All you could do was whine with your head so fuzzy and cock drunk. He bounced you at a dizzying pace and you wantonly moaned, sounds that would fit in perfectly in the red light district. Mezou’s cock scraped perfectly against all the sensitive spots inside of you and it shot pleasure through you with every thrust and drag. His growling voice, his own grunts of pleasure, were indicative of his approaching orgasm and he angled himself and you in his arms to ram directly into that spongy spot inside you that had your head spinning even more.

“Oh, yea, baby. So perfect. So perfect, princess. You feeling good? You feeling like you’re gonna cum again? Huh, princess?” He cooed at you and lifted a hand from playing with your tits to turn your head to face him and attach his lips to yours. You could only whine out an agreeing hum against his lips as you felt yourself get closer and closer to that edge.

“Fuck-! Please! Please, please Mezou.. please, oh fuck-!” You couldn’t think of what you were begging for but you just knew you needed more. You kept chanting sweet, pathetic pleas against his lips and did your best to look into your boyfriend’s eyes though your own fought to roll back in the depths of pleasure.

“Go ahead, princess. Go on and cum, yea? Cum all over my cock and show them who you belong to.” Your lover’s voice returned to a possessive growl as he spoke, his fingers digging in even more. The perfect, blissful combination of pleasure and pain told you that you would have bruises in the morning, not that you minded in the slightest.

“Mez-zou…!” You weakly cried out as you felt the cord in your belly stretch taut and right on the verge of snapping once again. With a particularly strong slam into your cunt, the blunt head of Mezou’s cock hit directly against your cervix and the sudden painful pleasure sent you tumbling over the edge. The knot snapped and you came, almost violently, on the stiff cock still pounding into you.

The tightening and fluttering of your walls on his already sensitive dick pushed him further and further to that edge. The near slutty moans in his ears forced him even further along until your cry of his name finished him off. Thick ropes of cum spilled into you and filled you to the brim. Mezou kept thrusting and bouncing you until he finished shooting his load into your tight, slick cavern.

“Princess.. Always so perfect for me..” Mezou panted as he shared lazy kisses with you, your lips softly connecting with his. Your brain was too scrambled to come up with words so you merely hummed in agreement and appreciation for your big, possessive, jealous boyfriend. He held you close to him and kept his firm hands cupping your chest and lightly groping the meat of your thighs while he gently praised you as you came down from your overwhelming high.

“Mezou… Felt.. so good,” You managed to say. He gave your forehead a sweet kiss before turning another contemptuous glare at the insolent, cocky group.

“That’s right, princess. You’re all mine and I’m always gonna make you feel good. Make you feel so good, princess.” As he spoke to you, he kept his glare on the boys to ensure they knew that you were his and that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog

[potterattitude]

siblings

Sirius : (arms wide open, enthusiastic) Alright, listen up, everyone. We're all brothers here! Me, Regulus, and James— even if you're my best friend, I also consider you as a brother. Sirius : (turning to Remus with a tender smile) Except you, Moony, love of my life. Remus : (blushing slightly, a small smile on his lips) James : (with a nervous smile, glancing at Regulus) Yeah, uh… that's nice, brother, but best friend is great… It suits me just fine, Sirius. Sirius : (frowning) But… I just said we're all brothers! Why stop at "best friend"? Remus : (who has understood everything, starts choking on his tea, coughing loudly) Koff koff! Sirius : (worried, leaning toward Remus) Moony, are you alright? Is your tea going down the wrong way? Remus : (teary-eyed, nodding) Y-yeah… it's just… the tea, really strong today. Regulus : (sighing softly) Sometimes, Sirius, your naïveté is truly impressive. Sirius : (completely confused) Huh? Why? James : (patting Sirius' shoulder, holding back a laugh) Never mind, Padfoot. You don't need to understand everything… it's better this way. Regulus : (whispering to James) Yeah… good luck explaining it to him someday… don't count on me.