#supernatural x f!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animasola86 · 2 months ago

Text

🐺 A KNOT TO REMEMBER

m!werewolf x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.6k

In search of some fresh air, you stumble through a beautifully arranged garden. The full moon shows the path, or so you think, until you find yourself face-to-face with something very large and very hairy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Werewolves! Abduction! Dubcon? Knotting! Breeding! Cum inflation! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 4 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 This is OPTION 3 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene.

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your search for the bathroom, you come to a long hallway full of doors, and you decide to go through the door at the end of it, thinking some fresh air would be preferable now.

When you walk through the door, a cold breeze passes by you, making you rub your exposed arms. It's been a mild October thus far, so you didn't bring a jacket. All you have is the red cape that gives your costume its name. Pulling it around your shoulders, you follow the short hallway to another set of doors that lead you straight outside. The fresh air is numbing, but also strangely clearing, and the deeper you inhale, the steadier you feel.

The full moon stands high in the sky, illuminating a beautiful garden before you. You see rows of neatly trimmed hedges, large flower pots and other intricately laid out plant arrangements fit for the season, broken up by either a bench or a little lamp casting additional light into the dark night, with a narrow gravel path snaking through the vast grounds.

You decide to walk off the strange feeling in your guts. With your hood over your head, you quickly feel warmer again. The low thump of the music from the house quiets down with every step you take away from it, deeper into the garden. Soon you find yourself in the middle of a maze, with hedges too high to look over, and paths just wide enough to walk through comfortably. A sinking feeling grips you as you keep walking, but everything looks the same.

Quickening your steps, you feel your heart beating harder in your chest. Good idea to walk through a maze in the freaking dark, you scold yourself, but before you can think of a clever retort, you suddenly hear a strange howling noise, seemingly far away, probably past the forest surrounding the house. It still makes your blood run cold. You stop in your tracks, listening hard, but all you can hear is your own rapid heartbeat and the gentle swish of the wind through the leaves around you, there are no animal sounds, no owls hooting, no insects chirping, no critters running about.

Just eerie silence – until another howl cuts through the night, making you gasp. This time it's much closer, louder, and without even thinking, you turn around, trying to run back to the house, knowing you shouldn't be out here in the first place. Your flight instinct is cut short when you run blindly into... something. Something solid, big, warm...

Stumbling back, you look up with wide eyes, panting heavily, and when you see what you ran into, you freeze, holding your breath, shock settling into your limbs. It's a wolf. As tall as a man. Wait, it is a man, he's standing on his hind legs, but he's got the head of a wolf, with a long snout, sharp eyes and teeth, fluffy ears and all a wolf would have, but below his wide shoulders he may just be a very hairy man, muscular, bulky even, despite the rough looking dark fur covering every inch of his massive body, very intimidating, and he also has a long bushy tail swishing lazily behind him. When he speaks, which surprises you, his voice rumbles through the air like thunder.

“Are you lost, little girl?” he asks, tilting his large head.

You stare up at him with your lips parted, too dumbstruck to process anything. “I... uh... yeah,” you mumble, eyes scanning the large figure in front of you frantically. He really is very hairy, hairy enough he doesn't even need clothes you notice. “I think... I mean... the house is right there, isn't it?”

The wolf man turns around before a low chuckle escapes him. “Not quite. You went a little too far, didn't you, Little Red?”

You blink at the nickname, but then remember your costume – and your initial disappointment that there hasn't been any wolf at the party to match your freak. Well, now you've found him, or he you. And his costume is impressive. Might just be one of those fur suits, one of the more realistic looking ones, because the way he stares down at you almost feels a little too realistic. It's not a mask, is it? But it probably is, it has to be. The alternative would mean he is a real werewolf, and you know that those things don't exist.

Right?

Swallowing hard, you take a cautious step backwards. He moves with you, his imposing body getting closer again, threateningly. You let out a scared little whimper.

“Oh, don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you. Not too much anyway,” he adds with a low growl that might have been a laugh. You don't feel like laughing back.

“A-are you –” you stammer, your shoulders shaking with how frantic your chest rises and falls. “A... a... you know... a werewolf?”

He tilts his head again, putting his large hands (paws?) onto his hairy hips as he watches you curiously. “What do you think?” he rumbles, licking his long tongue around his muzzle, showing off razor sharp teeth that gleam in the moonlight. Nope. That's not a mask. This is fucking real.

“Oh God!” you cry out, and in your panic you turn around and run, nothing but terror pulsing through your body as you stumble headlessly through the darkness, away from whatever monster you just encountered. In your haste to round another corner of the maze, your cape gets caught by some thorns, ripping right off you, but you keep running, fleeing into the night.

“He won't help you here,” you hear the deep voice behind you, rapid footsteps following you before you feel a rush of air that knocks you right over. Or rather it's the wolf jumping onto your back, crashing you into the hard ground beneath you. You scream in shock, the pain only registering a few seconds later when you feel your knees scraping open and your palms rubbing over rough gravel.

You squirm in desperation, wailing helplessly beneath him. His hot breath hits your nape, and you freeze immediately, stiffening in fear. He sniffs your hair, and then you feel something warm and wet along the side of your neck. He's licking you, coaxing a sorrowful whine out of your throat.

“Shh, it's alright, little one. Don't be scared. No need to run from me. Wouldn't you say we were destined to meet?” His voice vibrates through you as he presses his snout against the side of your head while his large hands rub along your sides, his strong thighs bracketing your hips, his weight pushing you deeper into the ground. “My little Red Riding Hood...” he continues, poking his wet nose against your cheek. “Weren't you looking for your wolf too?”

You can only wail pathetically, too panicked to consider his words. “Please... no...”

He huffs a warm breath against your skin. “Well, it can't be helped. Fate brought us together. You are mine now,” he says in his deep voice, and suddenly he moves back, off your body, giving you a moment to breathe, but only so long before he grips you around the waist and throws you over his hairy shoulder. At first you're too shocked, then you start squirming and struggling in his hold, gripping his fur, slapping his broad back, kicking your feet. But it feels hopeless. He is just too big, too strong, holding your thighs together with only one hand.

A deep sigh sounds from him as he walks you further into the darkness, ignoring your weak attempts to fight back. Eventually you go limp in his hold, hanging upside down as you do, quickly feeling all the blood rushing into your head, adding to the nausea you felt earlier. Your fingers dig into his pelt, and you're surprised to find it rather soft. Not as rugged as it initially looked.

It doesn't help much to focus on the texture of his fur when you suddenly feel a change in elevation as he carries you down a set of stairs. Then your world is spinning once more when he pulls you off his shoulder, unceremoniously throwing you onto the ground. You land hard, with all the air being pushed out of your lungs, groaning as you roll onto your side, raspy breaths rattling in your tight throat. Before you can take a look around, something drapes over your head.

You cry out, frantically gripping whatever fabric is blocking your vision, only to find it's your red cloak. Staring at it after you've pulled it off your head, you frown.

“Put it on,” the large wolf man tells you in his gruff voice, and you frown even more. “And ditch the rest of your clothes.”

“What?” you gasp out and sit up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes, your heart beating faster.

“Do it yourself or I'll rip them off for you,” he replies, glaring down at you.

“W-why?” you stammer, hugging the cloak to your chest protectively.

An exasperated grunt escapes him. “Why do you think? It's the full moon, and that means one of two things: one, I either find a victim to eat... or two, one to eat out and fuck senseless. I figured you'd prefer the second option.”

Your lips part in a mixture of indignation and shock. Confusion is in there too. You should have known it would come to this, why else would he have carried you away, into his lair presumably, definitely not to talk. He told you not to be scared, but that was probably just a ploy to calm you down some. You are now far from it as hysteria grows within your fluttering stomach.

It's not necessarily the prospect of sex with a stranger, but this guy is a freaking wolf. A werewolf. An animal. Isn't that bestiality or something? And don't werewolves have special... cocks? You feel your cheeks warming up badly as your mind wanders, as do your eyes, lower down his large body, but before you can look for any genitalia between all that fur, you huff a grunt and look away, shaking your head.

“Hmm, you wanna make this difficult, little one?” he growls, slowly stalking closer until he's crouching in front of you, his large hands finding your shoulders, his claws pressing threateningly against your skin. “You should consider yourself lucky I think you're too cute to eat.”

You look back at him, into those dark eyes, his long snout so close to your face you can feel the warm breath on your chin. A shiver crashes through you, and to your biggest embarrassment, there's a throb between your legs, a familiar warmth settling in your core. You press your lips into a thin line and avert your eyes again. He exhales against your face.

“Well?” he huffs.

“You... you're a wolf...” you mumble in response, squirming in his hold. “How... how's that gonna work?”

His laugh catches you off guard. “Oh, little one, don't worry. I still have all the hardware needed for this, trust me. I bet you'll enjoy it more than you think...”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you blink slowly before focusing your eyes on his large head once more. You have to give it to him. He could have just taken you, taken what he wanted, ripped your clothes off and pounded into you like the feral beast he is, but he actually seems to ask for your consent in a way, or at least gives you time to consider it, which only adds to your confusion. The worst thing about it, is that your body already knows the answer.

He suddenly moves his snout, pressing his wet nose against your neck and sniffs, and you feel both ashamed and angry with yourself that he can probably smell your arousal as well. In an attempt to distract him from it, your hands shoot up as you dig your fingers into the thick fur of his chest, trying to push him away. He leans back and watches you curiously. You're breathing harder as you face him and the things that are bound to happen.

You can't fight him, he's too strong. From what you can see, he's brought you into some kind of basement and probably locked you in as well. There's no use trying to escape. You are here now, in his clutches, and he may be a werewolf with werewolf anatomy, but he's also talking and when you ignore the large wolf head, you can try to convince your mind that he's just a very hairy man.

And you did come to this party to let loose, to enjoy yourself, to experience an adventure. You had no idea it would turn into a sex adventure, but here you are. And if the alternative is being eaten alive by a monster, than what are you waiting for? Inhaling deeply, you let go of him and move your shaking hands to the buttons of your blouse, slowly undoing one by one as you keep him in your sight, while your heart beats faster with every inch of skin you expose to him.

He leans back on his haunches, his snout seemingly morphing into a wide smile. “What a good girl,” he growls, licking his sharp teeth.

You swallow hard as you continue to strip for him, until your chest is bare and you fidget to get your skirt over your hips in your sitting position. A yelp escapes you as he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you up, lifting you effortlessly as he stands up to his full height, holding you in front of him like a frightened kitten with your feet dangling in the air. You don't fight it anymore, you just look up at him, blushing as you notice his hungry stare wandering up and down your naked body.

He sets you to the ground again, gentler this time, then leans down to grab the cape and slowly drapes it around your shoulders, his large hands/paws fumbling to try to bind the string into a loop. You reach up, your small hands brushing against his furry digits, before you fasten the bow yourself, keeping the cloak from sliding down again. It does give you a bit of security, even though it leaves your front fully exposed to him. You should probably feel worse about this, but despite a heavy blush creeping down your chest, you try to remain as still as you can, forcing yourself to play along, not wanting to provoke him into eating you after all.

He huffs a satisfied grunt before he grabs you again and lifts you onto his arms. You hold onto his furry shoulders as you gasp softly from the sudden motion. Breathing harder, you focus on him instead of your surroundings, it would only make you want to find an escape route if you knew where he was taking you. First you have to finish this, satisfy the beast, and once he's sated and done with you, hopefully too exhausted to follow you, you could try to sneak away. That is the plan anyway.

You just hope you won't enjoy your predicament too much.

His heavy footsteps echo through the basement, and before you know it, he's throwing you down again, a little bit gentler and this time onto a softer surface, not a bed, but an assortment of thick blankets and pelts on the floor. There's even some straw beneath it all. Primitive, as you would expect from a beast snatching up random women in the night. Even though you may not have been as random as you think.

Fumbling to untangle the cape that got caught around your neck, you look towards him as he stalks closer, bent over like the monster he is, an imposing figure, a terrifying sight that makes goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin. When he suddenly prances forward, you yelp in surprise, trying to scoot back, but his large hands find your thighs, pinning you down and spreading your legs, and with your mind still reeling, you don't even have time to comprehend his next move until you feel his hot breath right against your center.

“No... wait...” you wail quietly, your hands shoving at his large head, but he doesn't budge, and when he opens his large maw and extends his long tongue, you watch him in both terror and with a strange fascination before a deep moan is ripped from your throat as you feel that same tongue lapping along your slit, parting your folds with a strength that makes you throw your head back. “Oh...”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of your cloak that's fanned out around you as you start bucking your hips up, a motion you didn't plan, it just happened, a reflex, a response to the urges boiling within you. It should feel strange to have this beast devour you like this, in a way you never expected, but it also feels too good to fight it anymore. His tongue is hot and wet and large enough to lick up your entire sex, all the way from your puckered hole to your throbbing clit. A single swipe leaves you absolutely breathless, writhing at the edge of pleasure.

He sure knows what he's doing.

And he keeps doing it until you dissolve into nothing but a mewling mess, a puddle of boneless limbs on the makeshift bed, moaning and gasping as the sensations crash through your nerves. On the peak of your orgasm he starts moving his tongue differently, pushes deeper between your folds, and before you know it you can feel it slipping into your clenching cunt, coaxing a strangled squeak out of you.

You hear and feel him huffing against you, low grunts that vibrate through your entire body, enhancing the feeling of his warm snout between your trembling legs. He moves the muscle deeper, laps at your squishy walls, presses into every crevasse he can reach, and all you can do is tilt your hips and contort before him, riding out the most intense orgasm you may have ever had. Most special one also.

Despite your mind turning into mush, filling up with cotton, you still wonder if this may just be a dream. The strangest one for sure, but still a dream. No way could you be eaten out by an actual werewolf. But when he keeps doing what he does, you soon stop caring and just enjoy the feeling. Doesn't matter. You're in for the ride now.

You don't know how many orgasms he pulls from you until he finally leans back and extracts his tongue from inside you. You barely feel it when he laps up your juices, grunting as he does so, but the moment he crawls over you, more of his big body pressing you into the blankets, you blink your eyes into focus and stare up at him, noticing how wet his muzzle looks. You feel your cheeks burning up. Somehow you have the urge to reach your hands up and pat his long snout, and you do, carefully stroking the rough fur all the way to his pointy ears, and he even hums deeply when you scratch him behind them.

A dumb little smile grazes your lips, and for a moment you wish he'd be a real man so you could kiss him, share the feeling of joy reverberating through your insides, but he has the head of a wolf and despite your blissed-out state you don't want to come into close contact with those sharp teeth. How he kept them away from your sensitive skin is still a mystery to you, but also nothing you seem to worry too much about.

He gives you a wide lick in response, his languid tongue stroke reaching from your chin all the way to your eyebrow, and you giggle and try to turn your head away, swatting at his head before wiping at the slobber on your skin. A growl like a laugh echoes from him before he shifts on top of you, strong arms braced on either side of your shoulders, his knees bracketed around your hips as he crouches over you, his shins pressing down on your wide open legs. The rough fur of his stomach rubs against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

“Look at it,” he tells you in a deep rumble, and you blink in confusion before your eyes move lower, and you see it.

It being his cock. It's huge. Bright red with a tapered tip and the hint of a bulbous protrusion near the base, fully unsheathed from within his furry groin as it lies hot and heavy on your fluttering stomach, reaching all the way up to your ribs. You swallow dryly at the sight of it. Too big. It'll never fit. Your eyes move back up to his face, and you can't help it, you shake your head no as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

He tilts his head, opening his maw to bare his teeth as he growls low in his throat. “You will take it. You were meant for it. You'll see,” he hisses darkly, nudging his wet nose against your chin before he starts lapping at your wet cheeks as the dam breaks and you realize you may have bitten off more than you can chew. “Shh, don't cry. You'll love it, I'm sure,” he continues between licking at your face, slowly moving his snout lower, teasing down your neck until you feel his hot breath on your quivering breasts. “And I will make it fit, trust me.”

You're not sure that's a good thing. But you can't do anything against it now. You are trapped beneath him. Breathing harder, your chest moving rapidly against his relentless tongue as he laps around your hardening nipples, you try to relax under his ministrations, lying back, closing your eyes, white-knuckling the blanket. He shifts on top of you, keeping his maw near your chest as he lines his hips up with yours.

You feel one of his furry hands slipping between your legs, rubbing over your puffy labia, spreading them, coaxing a quiet moan out of you as one clawed finger dips into your hole. Your eyes flutter open again. He looks up then, watching you out of these black eyes, so intense he seems to stare right into your soul, and when he retrieves his finger, you notice out of the corner of your eye how he grips his big cock, strokes it slowly, before pressing its pointy tip between your folds.

You hold your breath, trying to relax while also bracing for his penetration, your muscles already confused as they are. He pushes in then, slowly, almost carefully, and you feel the stretch as soon as his tip disappears inside you. A groan escapes you when he rolls his hips against you, and more and more of his large cock presses into your tight channel, bullying his way deeper. You're whimpering under his scrutinizing gaze as he watches you closely, seemingly looking for any sign of distress, even though he also doesn't seem to mind it too much as you gasp and yelp in pain whenever he forces another inch into you.

His hands circle your head as he leans over you, his wet nose rubbing at your neck. “You're doing great, little Red,” he huffs into your skin, keeping that slow and steady rhythm of moving his pelvis back and forth. “You can do this. You were made for this.”

You wail in response, turning your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, but also to look away from the beast ravaging you. If you focus your mind on the feel, you can almost imagine being fucked by a very bulky man with a very thick and veiny cock, and the thought makes it a little easier. Squeezing your eyes shut as he squeezes the last inches (or so you hope) of his large member into you, you are quickly overwhelmed by it all.

Quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips. You feel so incredibly full, so stretched, his cock taking up any available space inside you. You can feel the tapered tip pressing against your cervix, poking at it as if wanting to go deeper. It's a strange hurt, a sharp pain that turns into a weird comfort, almost-pleasure, as your muscles clench around the unfamiliar intruder. For now he is just resting there, heavy on top of you, heavy inside of you, but then, he starts moving.

You squeak like a slaughtered pig when he withdraws slowly before slamming his hips back against you, hammering his cock deep into you, forcing his way through your tense muscles. He gives you a moment to breathe between his thrusts, but only for so long, until he repeats the motion, over and over again. A slow drag along your walls, a forceful slam back into your depths, out and in, pause, out and in, pause, and despite the ever repeating rhythm you yelp out every time, surprised all over again by the sharp pain crashing through your body.

And it's not just his tip bullying your deepest points, it's that strange bulb at the base of his cock that nudges against your pussy lips with every deep plunge. What's it called? A knot? You don't know much about the matter, why would you ever be interested in animal anatomy, but you wish you could do a quick google or something to ease your mind at the strange sensations. Not that it would change anything.

He keeps pounding into you, always increasing his pace a little bit, slowly taking away your little breathing breaks, until he is hammering into you with full speed, just like the feral beast that he is, and all you can do is whine and wail and moan and mewl, unable to think, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but take it. You're squirming beneath him, both trying to get away from his ruthless assault and maybe, possibly, trying to match his rhythm to make it somewhat better for yourself.

His large form looms over you, his low grunts and growls loud in your ear as he nuzzles at your neck, bent over like he is, resting on his elbows, caging you in even further. Your hands shoot up to grip at his fur, and you even raise your twitching legs to steady them as you hook them around his strong thighs. It does help to be able to hold onto him like you do, without any limb moving about bonelessly, and the longer you cling to him, finally meeting his thrusts with snaps of your own hips, it starts to feel really good really fast.

Before you know it, you're arching against him, clawing at his back, gasping and sobbing and panting as the heat gathers inside you, burning through your nerves like wildfire, setting everything ablaze, and every rapid thrust spirals you higher and higher, building up that tension in your stomach that is sure to explode at any second. When it does, you are not ready.

A shrill scream rips from your throat as you press your back into the makeshift bed and stiffen beneath him, your mouth wide open as you squeeze your eyes shut. Warmth spreads inside you, forcing its way past the rapidly pistoning cock pummeling your clenching muscles, and it's like a tidal wave, not soothing as it laps against the shore, but destructive, powerful, all-consuming. It drags you along, threatens to drown you, pulls and pushes you as you lose all control over your convulsing body.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a blinding force, letting you forget anything around as it engulfs you in sparkling lights and mind-numbing bliss. By the time it subsides slowly, you can already feel it building up all over again as he just continues to fuck you in his relentless rhythm, hammering his cock deep into you, grunting on top of you, his maw parted as he growls, slobber glistening on his razor sharp teeth, his tongue hanging out lewdly.

But before he propels you into the next orgasm, he suddenly leans up, propped on his strong arms, licking his furry lips as he stares down at you. You may look up at him out of hooded eyes but you can't really see him, just this large shadow above you, but you do feel when he suddenly leaps back, pulls out with a force that coaxes another scream out of you as he rips his large cock from between your tight muscles. You writhe a little, groaning in frustration as your orgasm deflates, as that empty feeling settles in.

Though you don't have to lament the loss of his cock for too long as he grabs your waist and manhandles (wolfhandles?) you onto your hands and knees, at least he hopes you'd stay like this, but your body is too limp to fully function, and so you sink onto your chest, arms outstretched, face buried in the soft blankets, ass raised on shaking knees, your cloak tangled around you. He grips the fabric, strangling you for a moment before he notices his mistake and rips it right off you, making you gasp.

His large hand is on your head as he turns it to the side. You can feel his wet nose poking at your cheek. “I'm gonna breed you now, little one, and you will take it all, yes?” You blink at his words, so low they're only vibrations through your head, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I will pump you full and keep you on my knot until it sticks, you hear me?” Clearly you didn't, because... what now?

You squirm beneath him, trying to get up on your elbows at least, but he holds you down, one large hand on your nape as he shifts behind you, his fur brushing against the backs of your thighs before he nudges his knee between your legs and pushes them further apart. You can sense the heat of his cock before it even gets in contact with your core, and when it pushes inside you again, it feels like a knife cutting through melted butter.

You cry out, arching your back, jerking your hips away, but he is ruthless. He's carved his way into your cunt, but there's still a bit of resistance before you can take him as deep as he desires. He doesn't care though, just pounds into you with hard and fast thrusts, in and out, a rapid rutting accompanied by wild panting, and all you can do is grunt and moan too, your body pushed up and down the blankets. His hands move to your waist, claws digging into your soft flesh as he drags your hips back when he slams his against your cushioned rear, forcing his cock deeper still.

Your head is spinning, your heart thundering, and slowly, the burning pain turns into overwhelming pleasure. He's bullying your cervix again, plunging in and out with languid strokes, and you're so aroused by now that the only sound aside from your heavy breaths is the loud and lewd squelching of your wet cunt. It drives you insane how good it feels to be taken like this, bent over, a primal sensation, to be at the mercy of this beast. In this position, he hits all the right spots, and it's a blinding thing all around you as you come hard, crying out helplessly, hands digging into the blankets and pelts, body spasming against him.

He grunts as you clamp down on his cock, but he doesn't stop, he even moves faster, pushes harder, forces all of him into you. And despite your orgasmic haze you feel his knot pummeling against your entrance, trying to fit through. The pain cuts through the cotton in your mind, sharp little jolts whenever he pushes particularly deep, and when those throbbing bulbs suddenly breach you, as your muscles give way to the rest of his cock, you scream, first in agony at the stretching sensation, then again as another intense orgasm rips through you.

He lets out a low howl when your tight muscles clench around him, milking him for all he's worth, before he continues to snap his hips against your rear, bullying his knot deeper. If you felt full before, you are now close to bursting with how stuffed you are. You can barely breathe between all the gasps and whines, and he doesn't let you either as he continues his shallow rutting, his growls and grunts getting louder, more frantic, his clawed fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you against him.

You are again on the edge of pleasure, floating on that wave that threatens to consume you fully, when he suddenly stills, buried deep within you, tip squished right against your cervix, your cunt holding onto his knot as if you would drown without it, and you feel it throbbing, pulsing, swelling up, stretching you even further. Lightning crashes through the clouds of bliss, making you shriek, hot tears rolling down your already wet cheeks.

And then he grunts, leaning over you, snout nuzzling against your neck, burying in your hair, hot breath fanning over your skin as he gives you those tiny snaps of his hips, and your whole body moves with those motions, connected as you are. You feel him shaking above you before you feel something else deep inside you.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shoots into the already cramped depths of your cunt, filling up quickly, but with his knot holding it all in place, it has no choice but to look for every nook and cranny it can find, pressing through the tiniest openings, and as it does, you shudder deeply, feeling ready to burst before yet another orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking like a leaf, as his seed breaches into your womb, more and more, with every twitch of his cock, every pulse of his knot, rope after rope, filling you up until you feel completely bloated.

Somehow you manage to move a hand beneath you, rubbing against your usually soft tummy, but it's tense and hard, rounder than you remember it, and even though you should be terrified by it, you can only lie there and take it, as the wolf man above you leans on you and pumps you as full as he has promised. His breathing eases slowly, yours takes a lot longer to go back to normal, and with your heart thundering inside your heaving chest, you feel utterly exhausted.

He licks his tongue over your wet cheek, a sweet gesture among the feral breeding act, and you can't help but give him a tired smile as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He huffs against you, resting his large head on your back as he relaxes – letting his body work for him, because you can still feel him throbbing, shooting more cum into you at irregular intervals, usually accompanied by a soft little roll of his hips, a little nudge to remind your tight cunt he's still very much stuck inside you.

You wonder how long this will last. But before you can think more about this animal rite, your eyelids grow heavier and the world turns black.

You wake with a shriek as you feel a particularly hard thrust hitting your bruised and probably dilated cervix, the sudden pain crashing through you like the stab of a knife. You're no longer kneeling on the makeshift bed, you're lying on your back on his wide body, legs fallen open over massive furry thighs, two strong arms holding you tightly in their grip, squishing your tender breasts. He's switched you around, huffing and puffing beneath you as he pushes his hips up in a slow but steady rhythm.

“Again?” you groan out, trying to squirm in his tight embrace.

“Not over yet, little one,” he growls into your ear, wet nose poking at your cheek as he shifts beneath you. “More to give.”

“Ugh,” you make, your head lolling back against his shoulder. “But I'm so full...”

“You can take more,” he tells you quietly, a low rumble in the air. One large hand moves down your body, firmly pressing against your bloated stomach. You moan in response, your own hand finding his, trying to feel the same he does.

It's unnatural, that's for sure. That bump should not look and feel like this after only one load of his seed. But then again – he is unnatural, everything about him is. Who knows how special his cum is. Though you really don't want to think about it. You don't want to get pregnant, no matter how hot the whole breeding thing may be in theory. And you probably won't anyway, he's a wolf (man), it sure won't be compatible, right? A groan escapes you as you shake your head to clear it. No more thinking.

Just enjoy his warmth, the way he holds you, moves inside you, locked on his knot for who knows how long. Despite it all it feels comforting, somehow even romantic in a way, to be connected like this. Inhaling deeply, you relax into his soft but also hard body, his fur feels nice against your sweaty skin, the bulging muscles beneath exuding strength and safety. A good bed, that's what he is, with the added bonus of a truly incredible cock that fills you out perfectly, rubbing you just the right way.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over you, alongside what feels like the gentlest orgasm you've ever experienced, a little tingling sensation, a burning deep within, a soothing caress. You sigh contently, closing your eyes, falling deeper into his embrace.

When you come to next, you feel a cold breeze against your face that makes your nose twitch. You seem to move, but your limbs are still out of order, and when you slowly fight your way back into consciousness, you realize you're being carried, with two strong hands holding your thighs up while you are still impaled by that unbelievably resilient cock. A groan escapes you.

“Calm down, little one,” the wolf man grunts into your ear as he walks through the dark basement. “Almost done now.”

“Does it always take this long?” you whisper, leaning into him, your hands grabbing his wrists to steady yourself.

“For the knot to go down? Well, you are particularly arousing, my little Red, I can't help it. Seems you are my special mate after all,” he hums deeply.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Mate?”

“Yes, mate. I would have made you mine already, but I wanted to see how you can take me.” He inhales deeply as he presses his muzzle into your hair. “You did amazingly,” he adds, lapping at the shell of your ear. You shiver, squirming away with a surprised giggle that travels through your entire body, making you clench around his hard cock.

“Your stamina is really concerning,” you reply with a shake of your head. “Not sure I could do this again...”

“But you're still doing it, holding my knot so perfectly, keeping my seed inside you,” he huffs gently, licking along your neck as he turns around and walks back the way he came.

“Why are you walking in circles?” you wonder, moving your hands to your rounded stomach. Every movement seems to slosh its contents about. A strange feeling for sure.

“I can't keep you on it forever, I am afraid,” he says in a low rumble. “The moon is setting soon...”

You frown at his words, not even wondering what time it is right now, shifting in his hold to better look into his wolfish face. “And then what?”

“I'll turn into a man again,” he tells you, his dark eyes boring into yours. Something warm crashes through you.

“How is that a bad thing?” you blurt out, more excited about that prospect than you probably should be.

He huffs a low laugh, shaking his large head. “You wouldn't want to be near me when I do. It's painful even for me, and to have you stuck to me would be... devastating.”

“Oh,” you make, blinking as you process his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Let's try our luck, hm?” he then says, carrying you back to the makeshift bed.

He kneels down with you strapped to his chest like a newborn in a carry-on, and when he bends you forward, you brace yourself, resting on your hands and knees as he shifts behind you. His clawed fingers dig into your plump hips as he gives you a tentative nudge of his pelvis. You wince at the sensation, the stretch and pull on your tight muscles sending shivers down your spine.

His sigh is loud and warm around you, and apparently his knot is still too inflated to budge. Inhaling deeply, you buck your rear against him, trying to relax, ease your muscles, force his cock out of you. He seems to notice your efforts and starts pulling gently, grinding his hips, inching himself backwards. You still feel a sharp pain when his knot nudges against your tight entrance from within, but it's slowly widening, giving way, and when he pops out and slips free, you gasp and collapse on the bed, the sudden loss of pressure almost dizzying.

He lets out a low growl, his hand rubbing over your swollen pussy lips as you feel your muscles contracting around nothing, or rather the flood of cum that's bound to spill from your depths if he wouldn't hold his large palm there. He rolls you onto your side, snuggling against your back, before he pulls his fingers away, pressing your thighs together instead. His wet nose rubs against your jaw as he pulls his strong arms around you.

“Rest now, little one. Keep your legs closed,” he whispers, holding you tightly.

You're too exhausted to protest or care about any possible spillage or whatever consequences may result from this unusual coupling. None of it matters. Sleep does sound really good right about now. The wolf man relaxes behind you, his deep breaths slowly turning into loud snores, and you allow yourself to catch some Zs too. You'll need your strength. For something. Hmm. What was it again? Some sort of plan? Doesn't matter. It'll come to you. Now you just want to rest, let your body recover from whatever ordeal this has been. Knotted and bred by a werewolf. Pfft. What a silly dream...

Your eyes fly open as if someone has turned on the light in your empty mind, illuminating everything that's happened earlier. Oh. Oh God. Oh no! Your breaths accelerate, your heart beats faster as you realize where you are, in whose arms you're lying. His snores still echo through the cavernous room, your body molded to his larger frame, his arms tight around you.

Carefully you wriggle your way out of his embrace, listening closely to his rumbling sounds, but he seems too far gone to notice your frantic escape. You manage to slip from under his arms, your body aching when you move it, but you fight through the discomfort and slowly stand up on shaking legs. Immediately you feel something wet and sticky dripping down your thigh, and a quick touch to your bloated stomach tells you, you are still filled to the brim with werewolf cum. Fuck. This can't be happening.

Turning around, you see the furry beast slumbering away peacefully, his large body moving with every thundering snore. Once you got your bearings, you start looking around the room until you find some clothes. Not yours though, but a big plaid shirt that you slip into. It reaches almost to your knees, so it'll have to do. When your eyes fall on the red cloak next to the makeshift bed, you hesitate, but then you leave it behind. Let him have a small remembrance of your special night.

At least you find your shoes, and once you're ready to leave, you throw a last glance back at the monster. He's still fast asleep, and you almost regret having to leave, but you can't just live in some cave or basement with a werewolf, letting him pump you full of cum to carry his pups or whatever it is he expects of you, no matter how mind-blowing the experience has been.

Biting your lip, you turn around and try to find a way out, and surprisingly enough, he didn't lock you in. After climbing a set of stairs, you find yourself in a small cabin, and when you try the front door, it just opens. Stepping outside into the night (which surprises you, you were almost certain you were stuck on his damn knot for a day or more, or so it felt), you fight the shivers, snuggling into the large shirt that smells like him, a comforting scent that doesn't make it easier to leave.

But you do, trying to find your way through the darkness. The moon is nowhere to be seen, it may just be a cloudy night, or it really was close to setting, you can't be sure, and frankly, it doesn't concern you anymore. You gotta move on, get back to the house, ask someone to call you an Uber...

As you suddenly realize you have no idea where your purse is, you stumble onto a better lit path, but the sight of what awaits you at the end makes you shiver deeply. It's a graveyard.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

You've come to a (literal) dead end. Or have you?

No, just keep going...

But you can always go back to the beginning and choose another door. Back in the hallway, here are your options:

Reach for the door closest to you.

Go through the door a few feet on your right.

Notes: I'd like to thank @moongurl95 for planting this idea into my head! Thank you so much for sharing your open-ended dream, it really inspired this whole adventure, but particularly this part! I hope I could fill in the blanks! <3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

655 notes · View notes

all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 10 months ago

Text

The Most Innocent Sinner

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: For everyone, she's the shy, pure, little Y/n. Dating Dean Winchester is like going on dates with the complete opposite of her. So it is a very nice surprise when Dean learns how kinky she actually is by finding her collection of sex toys.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Content warning: Sex toys, masturbation (male and female), dirty talk

Square filled: Dildos for @spnkinkevents / “Now that’s something you definitely shouldn’t try at home.” for @jacklesversebingo / masturbation for @anyfandomkinkbingo / “Unfortunately, I’m turned on by that.” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

A/n: Finding a title is so hard. I got stuck on this one for way too long. Big thanks to my friends that helped me!

From the outside, Y/n looked like a Saint. Cute, she wasn't very tall and almost sickly shy, and her social anxiety didn't help her case at all.

Since she didn’t have many friends, Y/n spent her time at the library surrounded by stories that made her forget how alone she felt. The characters on these yellowed sheets would never judge or criticize her, it was a comfort in which she really liked to immerse herself, especially after a hard day.

It was also where she met the Winchester brothers for the first time.

For someone like Y/n, the complete opposite of popular, invisible to people even when she was in the same room with them, the Winchesters were the pinnacle of perfection. Bodies built like gods, well-defined faces, piercing eyes, they gave off a strong and dominating aura that attracted the gaze of everyone in their path. And Y/n was no exception.

The moment the two brothers walked near her table at the library, there was no longer any need to read. Her book closed by itself in front of her, as she no longer held it open, her eyes fixedly stuck on the two men. Following their directions with her gaze, she turned her head, almost hurting her neck.

The colors around her suddenly seemed more vivid. The sounds, sweeter to the ear. She strained her ear to better listen to their conversations. And it was then that the stories she loved reading so much... Became reality.

Y/n had always had a habit of making herself fade away. Not wanting to attract attention, remaining discreet and making herself as small as possible. But the moment she saw them, it was like a light bulb went on inside her, and filled her with a life she had never really felt. And she decided to change that.

She didn’t want to hide anymore.

It was an adventure awaiting her, just like in her books. Filled with villains, monsters, but also angels, laughter, food and finally, a place where she belonged. It didn't take long for her to take part in their lives, quickly becoming a full member of their families. Although she wasn’t trained to be in the field hunting monsters, her lifelong experience of extensive reading was too vital and important to refuse her help.

Initially, Y/n was assigned to research. It was perfect for her, she could show them how efficient she was at this task so they would give her more to do eventually. Quickly, she climbed the ranks in the Winchesters' trust and became closer to them.

Everything about her personality was perfect to fit with Sam's. And yet, as the months stretched into years, she inevitably grew closer to Dean. Some will say that opposites flock together, and they are not wrong. Dean was the opposite of Y/n, stubborn, he didn't hesitate to say what was on his mind and loved seeing the adorable expression that invaded her face when he made inappropriate or worse, sexual comments. Immediately, Y/n would disappear from the room almost like magic, or she would become so embarrassed that he took pity and immediately changed the subject.

Y/n had a purity that Dean never had, and it was one of the reasons why even after all this time knowing her, he was still reluctant to let her come with them on hunts. Or even to involve her in anything that could endanger her or defile this purity. If he could keep her from losing that sparkle in her eyes, he would, no matter the cost.

After a few months of dating, Y/n finally agreed to live in the bunker with them. Dean helped her move in, putting her things in a room other than his, and although not sharing the same bed disappointed him a little, he understood why. She wasn't ready, and he insisted on her comfort. He was willing to wait for her as long as it took.

“If I had known you had that many boxes, I would have brought in extra hands,” Dean huffed, placing yet another heavy box on the ground. Straightening up, he raised his arms above his head to stretch his back.

“Sorry, all my books,” Y/n shrugged and lowered her head, embarrassed.

With a quick wave of his hand, Dean signaled that it was nothing. “It only takes a little longer but it’s no problem,” he quickly said to reassure her, so she wouldn’t feel bad about having so much stuff. After all this time knowing her, he knew how important her books were to her.

Her 500 books which weighed bricks to transport…

“I'll go get another box,” she accepted Dean's answer and as she passed him on her way out, left a quick kiss on the cheek. It was Dean's turn to react, his face quickly turning red.

“Okay, in the meantime, I'm going to start…” Glancing at the mountain of cardboard, Dean sighed again. “Cleaning a little…”

Sam wasn't there. Although he proposed his help for moving her stuff in, Dean's ego was more powerful. As a boyfriend, he had to take care of his girlfriend himself. Without help. Showing her that he was there for her, and that she would always be his priority.

Dean had been in several relationships in the past. And he loved each woman with all of his soul. But each time, his work, his family or the apocalypse had forced him to leave. It had been a very difficult task each time, but he had done it.

Just the thought of leaving Y/n had the same effect as losing a limb. It was unthinkable.

Ah shit. He was in love.

Him, in love?

It was the first time.

… Wait a minute.

He was in love with her.

This realization hit him harder than he expected. Dean took a few steps back, his head spinning quickly. He was in love. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Never in his entire life had he felt this kind of thing for someone, feelings so strong, so true. When they were together, he felt so good, like he had finally found the thing he was missing. The person he needed.

Dean took another step back, and inevitably, his legs encountered a box. He lost his balance and, trying not to cause a landslide, had to hold himself against the nearest thing… Another box.

This one was strangely and unfortunately lighter than the others and failed to stop him from doing damage. Luckily, Dean kept his balance and avoided the embarrassment of falling on his butt, but the box fell to the ground.

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled as he hurried to pick it up. As he took it, he noticed that it was not closed properly. It was definitely not his plan to go through Y/n's personal belongings, but when he opened the box to close it better, he couldn't help but see what was inside.

And it wasn't his fault. The first item on top was a box that displayed the inscription of its contents, and his curiosity, well… took care of the rest.

“What the…” taking the item in question, Dean examined it. His hunter's eye detected every detail, inscriptions, the wear on the cardboard and even the place where the packaging had once been sealed before opening. The sticky paper seemed to have been removed so quickly, the color of the cardboard remained stuck on it. It was exactly as if its owner, eager to have the object, hadn’t been concerned by the breakage of its packaging.

SO. It was still possible that the contents were not what was written in black and white on the packaging. It was still a possibility. Dean understood, it was his duty to get to the bottom of it once and for all. Otherwise, the question would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Heart racing for no good reason, Dean placed his fingers where the paper was torn off and pulled the tab. Then, breathless, he opened the box and peered inside.

“Son of a bitch,” his mouth breathed along with the last of his oxygen. No... he couldn't believe it. As if he needed further proof that his eyes had already given him, Dean reached into the box and pulled out the object.

It was still in its bag, but an opening proved its frequent use. Both soft and very hard, it was of regular size and of a pretty pink shade. Dean didn't need to take it out of the bag to know that underneath was the little hole to get charged, the wire still in the box.

In his hand, Dean held the thing he never thought he would hold… Let alone find among his girlfriend's stuff. The sweet, pure, shy Y/n.

Scared that she would come back and see him like this, Dean quickly put the pink dildo vibrator back in its box. A thousand questions swirled through his mind and his heart still hadn't stopped pounding in his ribcage. In his eagerness and nervousness, Dean almost dropped the box, so he had to pull himself together to put it back exactly where he had found it.

And that was when he saw them.

There were plenty of them. A dozen even. Some had their original packaging, others had boxes without inscription. Curiosity rose in Dean who forgot the presence of his girlfriend and owner of these toys in the bunker. It was like suddenly he was alone in the world as he began to pull out everything he had in front of his eyes, his pupils dilating with each new discovery.

Small portable vibrator. One that looked like a butterfly, insertable and vibrant. A… dolphin? A flesh-colored dildo, including ball and base with suction. A magic staff. Purple, pink, black, the colors were added one after the other. And then suddenly...

Dean came across the largest box.

It was curiously and surprisingly big for what was inside. Dean couldn't help it. It was heavy, there was no doubt about the contents, but he had to see it with his eyes, hold it in his hands, and absorb reality.

It couldn't be that big... right?

And oh my god.

“Now that’s something you definitely shouldn’t try at home…”

Examining it from every angle, he still couldn't understand. The words “bad dragon” were forever imprinted in his brain along with the image of that purple and blue hued dildo. It was imposing, as tall as it was wide, and the different textures were strange but pleasant to the touch. And inevitably, his brain went in that perverse direction he imagined...

Her moans filled the room and the echo was carried throughout the whole bunker. Sounds of pleasure? No. Of frustration. She moaned as she tried as best she could to get the dildo into her entrance, which was still too tight for such a monster. But her determination only grew with her goal, and the idea alone of being able to have all those inches inside her was so exciting that she almost didn't need any lube.

“Oh fuck,” breathed through her lips as the head of the toy finally pierced the breach. Her head tilting back, she wiggled on the dildo to widen her entrance to accommodate the rest. Kneeling over the toy made it easier for her to maneuver her body and part her lips for guidance. And when finally the dildo was inside her, a long sigh of relief mixed with the pleasure of having succeeded hissed between her lips.

“I love the view…”

Dean hadn't missed a single thing. Standing in the doorway, he watched, admired, and nourished himself with the magnificent view before him. Kneeling on the bed facing him, she knew he was there. Even though her eyes were closed, she felt his presence, heard his heavy breathing. And then there was the rustling of his clothes every time he adjusted his position or reached for his swollen crotch.

It was one of the hottest things she had ever experienced. The desire was so strong it was palpable. The smell of sex filled the room. A moan passed her lips as she opened her eyes to look at him, her breath leaving her lungs, making the air almost unbreathable because it was so saturated.

"Oh. No."

The sound of a heavy object hitting the ground brought him back to consciousness. Then it took him several seconds to realize the voice that had spoken just before the impact, what it had said and who it belonged to. Turning towards the door, Dean's eyes were wide open, the green almost disappearing from his irises because his pupils were so dilated.

Her face was not in any better condition. As her eyes, wide with fear and shame, moved between what he was holding and the box behind him and finally settling on him, Dean could see the embarrassment quickly filling her being.

“What is this?”

Still shocked by his discovery and what it implied, these words were the first and only ones that had managed to escape his lips. Obviously, he knew what it was, and what it was for. However, he needed to hear it from her mouth. To confirm what his eyes had already understood.

His question only made her more uncomfortable.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” she muttered under her breath, lowering her head and crossing the distance between them to grab the dildo and remove it from the hunter’s hands. All this to hide the evidence that had already been consumed, unfortunately. “Please, forget about it,” she pleaded, still refusing to meet his gaze. Her hand resting next to Dean's on the dildo, she tried to take it back, but was surprised to see that he didn't want to let it go. “Dean?”

“It’s impossible,” his voice was low, almost a breath lost in the tension of the air. “Unfortunately… I’m turned on by that. And here I thought you were all pure and shy…” Taking a pause in his words only made the state Y/n was in worse. Next to Dean, she felt his breath against her cheek, and the heat of his body. It was heavy, his chest moving in time with his harsh breathing. As if he had to do everything to hold back. “I waited for you to be ready, and I'll still wait but… Y/n…” As she still refused to raise her head and meet his gaze, Dean took his other hand, the one that wasn't holding the dildo, to gently lift Y/n’s chin. “Thinking about you touching yourself with that… oh fuck, it’s hot, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” A shy smile appeared on her lips, her eyes watering at how she was embarrassed but still... Very excited by this idea.

“Oh yeah,” Dean swallowed, his green eyes darting from Y/n's lips to her eyes, then back to her lips. Like two magnets held too far apart, but at the same time too close, it was inevitable.

Dean pressed his mouth to Y/n’s, kissing her forcefully. The dildo was quickly put aside, both needing their hands to touch the other. Dean placed his on Y/n's waist, and her around his neck. Her nails scratched the soft part of his neck, leaving red marks he would never see. It was intense, they almost devoured each other with an insatiable appetite. Opening her lips, Y/n stuck her tongue out barely, just enough to give access to Dean who was quick to push his tongue into her mouth. The kiss became languorous, messy, even, and Y/n backed into a box and almost fell. Dean broke the kiss to ask if she was okay, but she silenced him by replacing her lips on his to continue the kiss.

Their mouths didn't leave each other as clothes flew around the room, some getting stuck on boxes while others fell to the floor. Eventually, they managed to maneuver through the mountains of boxes to get to the bed. Y/n plopped down on the mattress and laughed against Dean’s mouth which only took a second to find its way back to hers. Now both were shirtless and their hands explored each other without stopping.

Finally, Y/n broke the kiss to speak.

“I want you to watch me.”

“What?” Dean was panting, his erection so painful in his pants he was afraid it would explode at the slightest touch. Like a hungry lion demanding its prey, he tried to grab Y/n's lips but she refused him access by placing her fingers between them.

“I want you to watch me use the toy…” If she was an angel a few moments ago, the Y/n he had, lying under him on the bed, half naked, was a little devil hidden under the appearance of a Saint.

Just the thought of seeing her in real life masturbating with the monster he had found made Dean gulp and push himself up so he was on his knees. His face was so red, he had trouble understanding how there could still be blood in his length.

“Are you sure? I mean, I… I can’t say no to that, fuck, but… I don’t want you to feel forced or…”

“Dean,” she interrupted, a smile tugging at her lips. “I really want to. And I know you want it too.” Y/n took a deep, slightly shaky breath before continuing. “So… Bring me the one you want me to use… And get comfortable.”

Dean swallowed and looked at his girlfriend's face. Since he had known her, they had never been this far in their intimacy. And he would never have imagined that she had this in her. Obviously he was surprised, but it was a very pleasant surprise. Like an excited child on Christmas morning, Dean rushed to the box of adult toys and once again admired all the choices presented to him. Each of them infused an image, each more erotic than the other, into his mind. For a moment, he hesitated to take the monster he had found shortly before, but decided that for now, this view was better in his mind. And he didn't want to embarrass Y/n even more than she was, what she was proposing was very intimate, very sexy, but also terribly hard to do. To open up like this, to show yourself like this...

Dean returned to his girlfriend, a box in hand. “This one,” he held out the box, knowing full well what it contained. Y/n took it, hesitated for a few seconds while staring at it in her hands. Just as Dean was about to repeat that she didn't have to, that they could continue to just makeout and that was okay, she opened the box and took out the toy.

It was a simple one. No vibration, just a flesh colored dildo with suction at the bottom. It wasn’t the biggest she owned, but it was still big, almost as big as Dean’s cock. So to see her use this, he could easily picture him in her…

Just the thought sent another wave of arousal down his pants.

“Do you need a moment, or lube or…” Dean was still standing up near the bed as she was on her knees on the mattress. For the first time, he was clueless and didn't know what to do. And yet, it was not his first time, nor the last, that he had more kinky moments with his partner. But Y/n was different, she wasn't just his sexual partner, but the woman he loved. And the prospect of getting even closer and more intimate was worth more than any sex he could have.

“I want you to watch the whole thing,” Y/n replied, lifting her ass off the mattress just enough to undo her pants and pull them down along with her panties with just one hand. In an almost expert manner, she finished undressing herself with one hand, her other never letting go of the toy. “You can sit down, you know,” she laughed when she saw Dean still standing where he was, stiff as a stick.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he sat on the edge of the bed and turned his body towards her. It was like he was back at 15 with the most popular girl in school, ready for his first time. Nervousness filled his entire being, along with excitement, and if he wasn't so experienced years later, his erection would have disappeared or he would have come prematurely in his pants.

Dean silently thanked all the girls he had in the past that strengthened his stamina.

“How do you want me to use it?”

Dean could see how nervous she was. It was the first time she was completely naked in front of him, and her body was shaking ever so slightly, shivers that covered her soft skin in goosebumps. But yet, through that nervousness, she was freaking sexy. Still kneeling, she was slowly stroking her intimacy with the toy, coating it with her wetness. And without asking, Dean knew she wouldn’t need any lube.

“Just… Like this, you can ride it…” The words got out of his mouth by automatism. Truth was, Dean was half there now, so excited and focused on her, a part of his mind was shut down. It was so hot, he couldn’t detach his eyes from her body, the way the toy rubbed through her lower lips, how her hips rocked back on it, and her face, so soft, so cute, so embarrassed… With eyes burning in a strong passion.

“Okay,” she whispered. Time seemed to slow down. Dean could feel his heart beating in his head and in his crotch, the intensity growing with each movement she made. Straightening up, she placed the dildo behind her, careful to align it with her entrance, and opened up her legs to let Dean continue watching.

And he could see it all.

It was better than everything he could ever imagine.

The toy was big, but she was probably very wet and very used to it, because it didn’t take long for her to lower down on it. Inch by inch, the dildo disappeared into her entrance until it was almost completely gone. Her body was bent back, her chest glistening with sweat and the cutest moan left her lips.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned. It was too much, so he rushed to open his pants, just enough to free his aching cock. The simple touch sent thousands of electrical shocks of pleasure through his body, but still, his eyes were fixed on her. “You’re so hot, I don’t think I’ll last long,” he held the base of his cock stronger to avoid his climax.

“I don’t think I’ll last long either,” she whimpered. She had started moving already, slowly, up and down on the toy. Since she was on the bed, the succion was useless and she had to hold it with one hand. Dean could see how wet she was on the dildo, and imagined how warm it had to be inside.

Another groan whistled through his teeth.

“Hmmm,” she moaned, picking up speed. “It feels so good… Dean… Look at me…”

He didn’t notice, but his gaze was so focused on the toy and her pussy, he didn’t even look at her face. Blinking hard, he looked up, and when he saw her face, twisted in pleasure, he couldn’t help it.

His hand started moving on his cock at the same rhythm as her.

“Can’t wait to be inside of you,” Dean muttered through his rashing breath. “Must feel so warm in there, and you’re so wet, fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

As an answer, she moaned and closed her eyes for a second. But quickly, she set her gaze on him again, even if it had to be the most embarrassing thing she ever did. She wanted to watch him watch her, watch him stroke his cock, watch him cum with her. “Soon… I promise, soon, you’ll have me, you’ll fuck me as much as you want, whenever you want… I'm ah... All yours, Dean..."

"Y/n." Dean could only say that. Again and again, moaning her name as she continued moving on the toy. "Y/n..."

"Dean, I’m gonna cum, oh my god, I’m…”

It was stronger than her. Never before did she come with only a dildo in her, it always took her hands or a vibrator on her clit to reach the end. But right now, in front of her boyfriend masturbating with her, it was too much. It felt so good.

In an explosion of pleasure, her orgasm ripped through her in a scream. She closed her eyes, her body shaking, her wetness flooding under her and on her bed. But she so didn’t care about this right now.

It took a few moments for her to regain her hearing back, and a few more moments to open her eyes. It was strong, and she suddenly felt so tired, like the world came crashing back on her. Feeling like she could sleep for a whole day without waking up.

Y/n landed her eyes on the man in front of her. Dean had his head bent back, eyes closed, mouth parted. Lower, his cock was still a bit hard, and his release was covering his hand.

“Oh,” she said sadly, realizing she didn’t see him cum. At least, they came together.

“Oh,” Dean repeated, finally opening his eyes to land them on her. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen and done,” he admitted, a silly smile filling up his face. So he was too, drunk on pleasure.

“Yeah,” she admitted, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. Wow. They did it. They actually did it. Her joy, thought, left her face quickly as she realized something. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” Dean immediately went on protective boyfriend mode when he heard the change in her voice.

“I think I…” Y/n’s voice was small, so small and shy as she lifted herself from the spot she was in, removing carefully the dildo from her, and looked at the mess she made. “It never happened before, but now my bed… I don’t think I can use it anymore… Oh no…”

“Sweetheart,” Dean rushed to her side, quickly putting himself back in his pants even if he was messy with his release as well. “It’s alright. There’s plenty of other room in the bunker, with other beds.”

“But,” she stammered, her gaze looking down at her hands. “What if I want to… Use your bed, with you?”

Y/n ended up looking up at him, their gaze meeting.

A soft kiss on her lips answered her question, and all of her insecurities washed away.

“My bed is yours, sweetheart. We can always use this room for your books, I’ll ask Sam to help building shelves and-”

Another kiss, this time, more powerful, interrupted his sentence. “God, I love you so much.”

Babum.

The words he never said back before.

Dean thought they would be hard to say. Impossible, even. But he surprised himself with how easy it actually was.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @peachyaliien @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse @djs8891 @mimaria420 @this-is-me1 @syrma-sensei

874 notes · View notes

mysterymachine9 · 14 days ago

Text

Dean Winchester x gn!reader

Summary: Edging him 😊

NSFW. Minors DNI. Not proof read ❌

I have nothing to say, but I want to say something. So…happy holidays and have a good day 🌚

You’ve denied him at least 3 times now. Letting your hand slip from his twitching cock down to his thigh whenever he was near the edge. And yet he still gave you the same puppy-eyed look.

Dean’s head went back against the pillow with a soft thud. His hips thrusting into your hand to feel and get more of the overwhelming pleasure that he oh so deserved. All while your lips softly pressed against his neck. Kissing your way up to his jaw then up by his ear. Your free hand cradled the other side of his face that you weren’t by.

Although the lighting in the room was dim, you could still see every detail of Dean’s face. The way he furrowed his eyebrows when you twisted your wrist around his cock. The way he looked when he got close.

His moans fell from his lips with every stroke of your hand. A whimper slipping out when you sped up; wanting to help build him up to the edge. Only for you to pull him back. He gave a weak thrust and a squeeze of his hands on your hips. Turning his head slightly to angle himself with your ear.

“Please, baby.” Dean whispered. Looking at you with those damn eyes. You looked back at him, only for a few long seconds though. Otherwise you’re sure you would’ve gave in. “You’re doing great, Dean. But this is what you deserve.” You say, dragging your thumb down on his lower lip, pulling it away from the other. Watching it snap back to place when your thumb now touched his chin. You remembered the way he acted earlier. Snarky remarks and catching an attitude with everyone who spoke to him. Nobody was sure why he acted like that.

You tried talking to him when it was just you two, to figure out what happened for him to be acting like that. Turns out there was no reason for it. No reason except that he woke up grumpy. And so, here you two are now.

“‘M sorry, won’t happen again, swear.” He said, softly. Still looking at you in hopes for some type of mercy. But you didn’t let up. Only starting to move your hand again just to stop.

When your hand resumed your pace on his dick, Dean groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow again. His back arched slightly and his hips went up to thrust into your hand. Your lips went back to his neck. Sucking hickeys that’ll probably get seen by Sam later. Dean didn’t care, nor did you. Well, sometimes. You did what you could to cover them, whether them being on you or him.

He bucked his hips and gripped your hips tighter. You knew he was close, yet still continued to move your hand. You wanted him to get right there before stopping. Make him think you gave in. And that you did.

His breathing got quicker and soon enough he gave one final thrust into your hand, thinking you finally listened to him. But when you pulled your hand away and set it on his inner thigh, he huffed and frustratingly groaned. His cock twitched quickly and was an angry shade of red. It leaked like a faucet. You ran your hand up and down his thigh. The feeling of your nails lightly scratching him gave him goosebumps.

You moved up close to him once again. Making sure your mouth was near his ear. He looked at you with a soft expression, and all you gave him was a slight smile. In which he scoffed.

“Maybe next time.” You whispered.

#f!reader #m!reader #gn!reader #supernatural #bottom dean winchester #dean winchester #dean winchester x male reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester smut

161 notes · View notes

stargazedwinchester · 26 days ago

Text

Lame ♡ Dean

This is a rewrite! It might not be amazing but I tried lmao, the rest of my rewrites are linked here

Guys icl I've been looking back at my old writings and they're so EXCRUTIATINGLY BAD I could die. There will only be a few of these and the rest will be locked up somewhere on my onedrive so no one has to read them anymore. I'm deadass they're so bad

Summary: Dean thinks he's hilarious whilst drunk and tries pick up lines on you.

Word count: 710

The pair of brothers dedicated a day off specifically to rest and recharge. They both had previously agreed to go down to a dingy dive and drink the pain away, but then changed their minds to stay at the bunker.

Sam gave up after sharing a bottle of whiskey with Dean and headed off to bed by 9. Dean, however, was clinging to you like crazy. You sat comfortably reading a large tattered book, researching for your own knowledge. He sat beside you, his usual shiny green eyes now dim from how much alcohol he’s had, and from how tired he is. He gazes up at you, admiring you.

“Y/N…” He starts, dragging your name out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Dean…” You copied him, still focusing solely on the book. His cologne had worn in since this morning, the faint, musky smell you can’t get enough of. Whatever cologne this is, it drives you crazy. The mix of that and the scent of whiskey are attractive in a way that you can’t explain.

“You’re not going to bed yet? You’re drunk as hell.” You say, glancing up from your book, your eyes meeting his. You await an answer. “Dean?” You ask him again, and he shakes his head insolently. “No. I want to stay here with you.” He inches closer to you, and you turn to face him. His pupils dilated and huge.

“You’re staring.”

“I can’t help but look at pretty things,” He mumbles, making you look at him. “And you’re a pretty thing.” He smiles childishly. “You’re proud of that one, aren’t you?” You laugh, his cheesy grin warming your heart.

“Did that work on you?” He asks genuinely. “Honestly Dean, not yet. You’re drunk and I’m not insinuating anything.” You pat him on the shoulder, unfolding your legs and standing up. Placing your book on the end table, Dean follows suit. “Wait, wait, wait.” He stops you in your tracks. “If I flip a coin, what are the chances of me getting a kiss?” He sneers, and you tut.

“What about now?”

“You’re drunk, stop it.”

“I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by you.” Dean smiles at how smooth he thinks he’s being. You laugh at his awkwardness, and he plants his hand on your hair again. He chuckles and you roll your eyes. You guide your hand toward his, interlocking fingers so he can’t let go. “Come on, you need to go to bed.” You insist, and he yawns. He hunches his back like an elderly man, and you interlock arms. “Come on, oldie. It’s past your bedtime.” You laugh to yourself, and he gasps. “I’m not old.”

“You’re 30.”

“That’s not old. You’re a liar.” He raises his voice and you shush him.

Yourself and Dean had been an ‘almost’ couple for a long time. The hunter's life has never been easy, so you both had agreed to keep things on the down-low. This excludes the odd hookup and, of course, you both have needs.

Dean inhales as if to yell more, and you shut him up by pressing your lips to his. Pulling away, Dean looks shocked. He smirks, raising his eyebrow. “I know where this is going,” he chuckles, the top of his tongue just touching the bottom of his teeth. His cheeky demeanour makes you laugh. “Shut up.”

Arriving into Dean’s bedroom, he runs over to the bed and dives onto it. His face lands first into a pillow. You remove his flannel, then jeans, then t-shirt. You lay his clothes on the floor, then climb on top of the bed with him. He waits for you to get comfy before he digs his face into your neck. Dean keeps his mouth close to your ear.

“What’s you’re favourite silverware?” He asks, a smile in his voice. You know another stupid pick-up line is on the way.

“I don’t know, Dean, what’s yours?”

“Spoons, ‘cause I like spooning!” He chortles, and you roll your eyes but join in with his childlike laughter.

“Shut up, you’re so lame.”

“But you love me.”

“I do.” You smile. After a while, there’s silence. Thinking he was finally asleep, he mumbles; “There’s a party in my pants, and you’re invited.”

“So lame.”

#supernatural #spn #spn imagines #supernatural imagines #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #dean x reader #dean x f!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x f!reader

227 notes · View notes

whimsyfinny · 3 months ago

Text

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Enemies to Lovers - Smut - Slow Burn - Ongoing Series

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8 pt 1

Chapter 8 pt 2

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

TBC...

(Photos from Pinterest)

198 notes · View notes

loverslantern · 9 days ago

Text

Mirror- Dean Winchester x f! reader oneshot

Description: Reader doesn’t feel pretty so Dean tries to show her what he sees in the way he knows best: praise.

Warnings: It’s hot and heavy in here, inherently sexual but nothing happens, manhandling?, praise

Word count: 2k

Note: This is not only my first time writing something like this but also my first time writing something not related to The Hunter and The Witch series so please leave feedback!

I catch my reflection on the screen of my laptop and groan. My face looks weird today. It’s just one of those days where I just couldn’t feel…pretty or nice or any other adjective. It shouldn’t matter now when I’m alone in my motel room and researching for the next hunt. There’s no one to impress in the desolate room other than the four beige walls and a creaky bed.

It shouldn’t matter. To be fair it shouldn’t matter in general when beauty is an objective concept, and yet it does. I do not know the psychology behind it, maybe it’s a biological thing as animals would choose the mate that’s more appealing or strong to have offspring that can survive. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought. This would just spiral into a psychological analysis that would only make me think of it further rather than ignore it.

It’s an obsessive thing, isn’t it?

Either way, I don’t like the way I look today. I couldn’t get my hair to look just right this morning and I tried so many up-do’s that my arms got sore. It still didn’t look right, so I left it down.

And my face just looks wrong. Maybe my eyes are too big or too small in proportion to the rest of my face. Or, maybe my jawline is too soft, perhaps I’m not rough enough. Perhaps I’m too rough. Somehow, every possible thing feels true.

I groan again, leaning my head back against the headboard of the bed, and squeeze my eyes shut as if it will get rid of it all. I’m meant to be focused on research. It was supposed to help. But stupid screens and their stupid reflections.

The jingle of keys forces my eyes open, my eyes landing on my door as it clicks open. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dean greets, casually inviting himself in.

“Hi,” I breathe. I suppose the consequence of giving someone a spare key is that they will use said key. But, I’m not that bad of a thing considering it’s Dean who’s walking in. “I’m gonna head to a bar, you in?”

“Eh,” I answer. “You go ahead. ‘Not feeling it tonight.”

He eyes me for a moment, squinting just slightly. “Not even as an excuse to dress up and listen to music?” he pushes. “‘My treat.” Of course, his treat meant a fake card or money he got from hustling. But, god the way he smiles and holds his hands up as he tries to convince me is cuter than it should be. “Sorry, Dean,” I say despite the sight, “Just not feeling it.”

His shoulders and smile drop, “Come on I’ll buy you as much (favorite drink) as you want.”

“You can go without me you know?” I point out as he saunters over to the bed and plops himself down. “We both know you’re gonna be leaving with some random girl anyway.”

He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his elbows, his black shirt flexing against his muscles. He knows I’m right. “I thought Sam was the nerd,” he comments, ignoring what I said by lifting my laptop off my lap and discarding it in the empty space next to him. “Why don’t you wanna go out? ‘You feeling okay?” he asks and for a moment as his eyes scan my face, I can see the concern pass through them.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I insist, trying to be as convincing as possible. Yet, he sees right through me, giving me a pointed look. He’s hard to lie to. I break, shaking my head, “Fine. I just…I don’t feel pretty today so I don’t really wanna go out.”

His eyebrows raise, his lips parting a bit as if that’s the last thing he expected me to say. “You?”

My eyebrows furrow, head tilting in confusion, “….Yeah….” Who else?

He studies my face again and I worry he’ll see what I’m seeing. He’ll see I’m not pretty. His features soften regardless. “Come with me,” he announces, gesturing a hand to follow as he gets up from the bed. I don’t listen, giving him a confused and cautious look. “Come on,” he insists, his voice firm.

I hold back my sigh as I stand from the bed. I almost didn’t want to know what he had in store. But, he doesn’t leave me with much choice but to turn back as he takes hold of my hand. His hand is big and warm as it envelopes mine, butterflies erupting in my gut at the simple touch.

He leads me into the bathroom, his hand leaving mine to travel up my arms and to my shoulders, positioning me in front of the mirror. My hips press against the sink, his hands on my upper arms and his body close behind mine. He nearly looms over me with his tall stature, his head and eyes tilted a little down as he uses the mirror to meet my eyes. “Don’t look at me. Look at yourself,” he directs. But my eyes linger on him, on his pretty green eyes, sharp sculptured jaw, and his straight nose. His fingers tap against the skin of my upper arm, “Come on,” he encourages, his voice a little gravely.

I give in. He makes it so easy to give in. I pull my eyes from him and land on myself. A frown pulls on my lips as my eyes jump around my features, even my frown looks wrong. He squeezes my arms, gaining my attention back in the same second my gut lurches. “Uh-uh,” he hums. “Eyes back on you, baby.”

Jesus.

Again, I force my eyes away and I can feel his burning gaze on me. “What do you see?” he asks. I scuff and roll my eyes, “Dean, I’m not—“

His hands rub up and down my upper arms. “Just—what do you see?”

I bite on my bottom lip. I look unamused. That’s what I’m seeing. I sigh, trying to humor him. “Myself,” I answer plainly.

He tuts, “Not what I meant, sweetheart. What do you see that you don’t like?”

Everything. That seems like an appropriate answer. But I can’t just say that and I don’t. I hardly want to share what I feel when it’s hard to put words to it. “How about this?” he says, his head dipping down to occupy the space by my neck, putting himself closer to my level than far above me. “I like your smile,” he admits, his voice so soft it’s like a rough whisper. “I like when you smile at me…” he squeezes my arms, “like I’m damn important.”

“You ar—“

“Uh-uh,” he hums again. “This is about you, baby.”

One of his hands drifts upwards, the muscles in his forearm flexing. The sight is nearly intoxicating as I watch it move in the mirror, resting at the base of my neck as he stands to his height again. His thumb brushes back and forth against my collarbone, his eyes downturned to his movements. “Keep watching yourself,” he reminds me. I hadn’t realized I was watching him but could you blame me?

He presses me back against him, his body solid and warm. I wonder if he can feel the increase in my heart rate. “And your skin…always so smooth. Hardly any scars.” He presses down on the base of my neck, encouraging my head to lean back against his chest. My breath hitches.

“Shows how careful you are, yeah?” I can almost feel his warm breath as clearly as I can feel my heart beating against my ribs. “You a careful girl?” His gaze is burning as it travels down me. “Yeah…” he drawls, eyes traveling back up. “You are.” His thumb taps once against my collarbone, reminding me to keep my eyes on myself which seems like an impossible feat now. “There you go,” he praises, his voice low.

My skin feels warm. My everything feels warm as if I am a furnace with the sole purpose of burning and he stokes the fire, poking at it, adding wood to keep it going.

“Those eyes,” he mumbles, and I can feel the rumble in his chest as the words protrude from his lips. “‘Damn pretty eyes. Then you give me that look…fuck.”

My eyes flick to his, something burning deep within my gut. He doesn’t scorn me for looking away from myself. “Yeah…” he whispers, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “That look right there. Eyes all big, your lips parted just a little.” His hand drifts up from my neck, gracing my jaw. His thumb presses on my bottom lip. “So pretty…” he mumbles. “‘Don’t know what you aren’t seeing. Can you look at yourself again baby?”

I do as told and my knees feel wobbly with the heat that pools within. It’s the sight of him rather than me. The sight of him practically playing with me. “Want you to know how pretty you are,” he mumbles. “How good you are. God, you’re so good.”

His thumb is a little wet as it slips from my lip onto my chin and my neck. His lidded eyes watch the slight mess he makes, his breath a little shallower. He hums, his chest rumbling with it. “Do you know what I think?” he asks.

“What?” I answer the single word sounding like a sigh. My eyes drop to my lips in the mirror, my bottom lip coated in a thin layer of my own saliva like a coat of lip gloss. My breasts press against my tank top, seemingly wanting to spill over with each shallow breath. The soft swells of skin peeking from the neckline. His hands drop to my hips, pushing me forward until they’re pressing into the sink with a force that knocks me forward a little, a gasp escaping my lips. I grip the sides of the sink to catch myself. His fingers press into my hips as he holds me firmly. His body looms over me as his eyes take in my bent-over form. Those stunning green eyes that usually resemble the greenery of a forest when the sun is shining through the canopy of leaves just right, now a darkened green like the parts of the forest the sun can’t reach.

His hands massage my hips roughly, pushing them forward before drawing them back. His eyes are downturned to the movement, his mouth parted a little in the same manner mine is. My breath is quicker, and my heart is pounding in my chest like it’s trying to escape the space behind my ribs. “What’d I say about keeping your eyes on yourself?” He says roughly despite his own distraction. I swallow roughly, forcing my eyes back on myself for the umpteenth time.

He continues his actions, eyes burning into my hips and my ass like nothing else matters. “I think…” he starts, circling back to answer the question he asked me before, one I forgot about. “I think it should be sinful,” the word is like a purr coming from his lips, “to look this good. To be so fucking pretty.” It should be ironic coming from him but why would he go through all this trouble, all this guiding, pushing, pressing to convince me of something he didn’t believe in? And I can see it. I can see it, through the fog of a bad day, exactly what he’s seeing, or at least part of it.

“Are you seeing it?” he asks in a low voice as if he saw the change in my eyes. “Yeah,” I breathe, nodding, “Yes, I see it.”

“Good,” he answers firmly, and yet I can hear the cocky smile that no doubt threatens his lips. Then, his hand circles around the back of my neck, tangling into my hair. He squeezes just once before he’s guiding me up, straightening me out ‘till I’m standing straight again. I spin in his hold, his large hands immediately going to my hips to keep me pressed into the sink. His eyes meet mine, something written in his irises that I can’t decipher. Then, they drop to my lips and then to my chest, that cocky smile finally making its appearance as his eyes drag back up to my lips. “Where’d you learn that?” I ask.

His smile widens as he answers, “You don’t wanna know.”

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #praise #dean Winchester x female reader #dean winchester x f!reader #oneshot #supernatural oneshot #hot and heavy #forgive me #dean winchester blurb #dean winchester x reader oneshot #dom! dean #dean winchester x you #dean winchester oneshot #dean x y/n

123 notes · View notes

kamisobsessed · 25 days ago

Text

CHRISTMAS SAVES THE YEAR

A/N: I haven't written in years, so I'm sorry if this is terrible😭. I've had Christmas Saves The Year by twenty one pilots in my head for days now, and suddenly this idea came to my mind. I didn't edit it so I apologize if there's mistakes.

Characters: Dean Winchester x F!Reader, featuring Sam, and mentions of Castiel, Jack, Jody, Donna, Claire, and Alex. No use of y/n.

Summary: Your boyfriend Dean, and his brother, Sam, are on a hunt during the holdiays. On Christmas Eve, you aren't sure if they will make it home for Christmas. When Christmas Day comes around, you finally have your family back together again.

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, more fluff.

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

Snow fell from the sky as you sat in the bunker hoping your boyfriend and his brother make it home for Christmas. A few days ago they went out on a hunt, a vamp nest two states over, it was a piece of cake. But, things don't always go as planned. Earlier that morning, you got a call from your boyfriend, Dean.

"Hey sweetheart, things went a little sideways and we weren't able to clear the nest yet," Dean said on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, okay" you say in a melancholy tone.

"I promise, we will be home soon," he replied, "Can't leave my girl alone on Christmas now, can I?" He lightheartedly said.

You smiled to yourself knowing he will do everything he can to make it home. "Be safe out there," you told him.

"Always. I love you, sweetheart," He answered.

"I love you, Dean," you responded and the line clicked.

You spent most of the day decorating the bunker with whatever little Christmas decorations you could get at the little store down the road. You even baked cookies so the boys had a treat to come home to. You knew they never really celebrated Christmas over the years, and this being your first Christmas with them, you wanted to make it special. This year particularly has been rough, especially since Dean took on the Mark of Cain.

The clock kept ticking on, soon it was nearing midnight. You decided to go to bed, hoping that your boyfriend would be home when you wake up on Christmas Day.

You went to you and Dean's shared room, threw on one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed. After tossing and turning for a while, you finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up, reaching over to Dean's spot in the bed, only to find it still empty and cold. They still weren't home.

You decided to get dressed and ready for the day, hoping they would make it home before Christmas dinner. You invited everyone to come for dinner, Castiel, Jack, and even Jody, Donna, and Claire and Alex.

You spent most of the day in the kitchen cooking a delicious Christmas dinner. As you finished the last pie, you heard the bunker door open.

"We're home" you heard Dean call out.

You smiled and ran out of the kitchen "you made it back!" you cheered with excitement as you gave your boyfriend a big hug.

"I told you, I wasn't leaving my girl alone on Christmas," he grinned.

"Merry Christmas!" Sam smiled holding his arms out and you gave him a hug. "Merry Christmas, Sam," you replied.

"Smells delicious in here sweetheart, that pie I'm smellin'?" Dean asked as he headed toward the kitchen.

You ran up ahead of him, "Yes, it is. But you have to wait until later to eat it," you said putting your hand on his chest to stop him, "Plus, I just pulled it from the oven, it is still hot."

"So not fair," he grumbled.

"I promise, there is a whole pie with your name on it as soon as we finish dinner tonight," You smile at him.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, "is it apple?" he asked.

"Of course," you say.

He grinned as he cupped your face and gave you a big peck on the lips, "fine, I'll let it slide this time."

Before long, everyone was here for dinner. Everyone was laughing, sharing stories, and really enjoying themselves. After dinner, Dean got to eat his apple pie. Then it was time to open presents.

Everyone was gathered around the small Christmas tree in the library. You stood back watching as Jack passed out presents to everyone. Despite the craziness of the last few years, right now in that moment, everyone seemed to forget the chaos. Everyone seemed happy. Dean walked over to you, standing next to you as you both watched everyone open their gifts.

"The pie was amazing sweetheart," he said as he wrapped his arm around your waist, leaning back against the table with you.

"I'm glad you liked it," you smiled at him.

"Come with me, I have something for you," He said, taking your hand. You followed him out of the library and down the hall. "Wait here" he said letting your hand go as he left you standing in the entryway of the kitchen. "Close your eyes, no peaking," he said. You closed your eyes as you waited for him to come back.

"Okay, open," he said. He held out a small box, wrapped in wrapping paper. It wasn't the best wrap job, but it did the trick.

"Oh, Dean, you didn't have to get me anything," you said.

"C'mon, of course I did," he said handing it to you. You carefully unwrapped it and opened the box. It was a necklace with the a charm of the inital "D".

"It's beautiful, thank you," I said as I held it up to look at it.

"Want me to put it on for you?" he asked and you nodded, handing him the necklace. You moved your hair as he put the necklace around your neck and latched it. You looked down at it and then back at Dean, "It's perfect baby, thank you," you smiled, but then you began to frown, "but, I haven't gotten you anything" you say, lowering your head.

"Sweetheart, you're all I need. And, the apple pie was a plus," he said, winking at you.

You grinned, letting out a small chuckle, "I'm so glad you made it home for Christmas."

"Me too," he said.

"It's been a long year, we needed a night to just be together and laugh" you said.

"Be jolly and cheerful and whatever else they say on Christmas," Dean grinned at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Christmas saves the year" you said. You looked up at the mistletoe you hung above the entryway to the kitchen. Dean looked up and noticed the mistletoe hanging there as well.

"Merry Christmas, Dean" you said, as he cupped your face with his hands.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he replied, leaning in, placing his lips on yours.

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

A/N: I hope this wasn't bad😭 Wishing everyone a Happy Holidays!🫶🏼

#dean winchester #jensen ackles #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean #winchester #spn imagine #spn x reader #dean winchester one shot #sam winchester #jensen #ackles #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x f!reader #Spotify

75 notes · View notes

arjwrites · 6 months ago

Note

Hi there! Found your account through a moot and wanted to maybe request a Sam x nephilim!reader where he finds out that she had been keeping that she was a nephilim a secret to try and protect him, but the truth comes out when they're on a hunt together? Maybe with established relationship?

Heaven Hellbent- Sam Winchester x Nephilim!Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. Part 1 of the series!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: F!reader! Canon-level violence and language!

A/N: THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE ON THIS! I literally loved this request so much but really desperately wanted to do it justice, so it took me a little while. Seriously, this was one of my most re-written fics so far. I really wanted to finally get something out to you, but I have a lot more to write on this topic so I AM MAKING IT A SERIES!! This is a bit out of canon context but I really really hope you still enjoy, thank you again for such an amazing prompt and for your patience!

Ever since you had come into Sam's life, things felt lighter. You were this warm, radiating presence that had wrapped itself around every facet of his life. Sometimes, when you lay together late at night, when he would trace your body with his fingers and plant soft kisses on your forehead, he would silently pray- he still did that from time to time- addressing God, fate, the universe, or sometimes simply to whom it may concern, thanking anyone he could for the miracle of you.

You were one of the most skilled hunters Sam had ever encountered. It felt like even having your presence on a hunt was an asset- when you were around, cases were solved quicker, monsters went down easier, and everyone walked away with far fewer injuries. He expressed this to you once, in your early years together.

“It just feels like everything clicks when you’re around. How is it that you make everything so easy?” He had asked you, eyes so full of admiration and innocence. Sweet, clueless Sammy.

“Hmm, I must be a pretty serious good luck charm then, sweetheart. Better keep me around,” you had purred, eliminating the space that separated you in a sensual attempt to change the subject.

Sam chuckled. “I like to think of you as our little guardian angel. My little angel.” Sam ducked down, meeting your lips with a soft, open-mouthed kiss, but not before his words sent a pang of anxiety through your body. It took a moment for you to reciprocate Sam’s kiss- you had to focus all your energy on keeping the lump that had formed in your throat from spilling to the surface.

Hiding your true identity from Sam was the hardest thing you had ever done, and yet the easiest choice you had ever made. You had been with him for years and had watched him and Dean go through so many horrible things. There were so many times you had wished you could step in- so many nightmares that could have been avoided if you had used your powers. But being a nephilim, you couldn’t. Because if you had, you would’ve had Heaven hellbent on your trail. And not just yours- anyone you had ever known or loved. Just the knowledge of your existence was a ticking time bomb, and the last thing you wanted to do was put yet another target on either Winchester’s back.

It wasn’t without hard work that you had gone unnoticed this long. Keeping under the radar had been much easier before you had met Sam. You had spent more years than you could count traveling, reading, learning, anything to fill your seemingly endless time. You didn’t use your powers, didn’t meddle in matters of Heaven or Hell, you just kept a low profile. That was, until you crossed paths with two of the highest profiles out there- Sam and Dean Winchester.

Falling in love with Sam was the last thing you had ever planned to do. But the more time you spent with him, the more you were drawn to him. You marveled at the fact that anyone could meet him and not fall in love- a man so inherently good, so kind, practically an angel in his own right. Sometimes, it felt as though there were three forces that worked to keep you alive- your soul, your grace, and your love for Sam Winchester, all three intertwined, braided together to tether you to the Earth.

So you stayed. You fought alongside Sam and Dean through every battle they faced. You did everything you could, finding ways to use your powers that would go undetected- by heaven and by the Winchesters. You could weaken demons and cast protection towards the boys, speed their healing subtly so that they wouldn’t notice. But there would be times when it would be far too dangerous to even let a glimpse of your powers show. Those were times that you would watch in agony as the man you loved faced horrors beyond your imagination. And those were the times you swore to protect him whenever you possibly could.

Sometimes, however, things wouldn’t go to plan. You and the Winchesters were hunting a demon that had been causing trouble in a nearby town. Dean had suggested the three of you split up to try to catch the demon by surprise. You had protested, but the moment he barked the order, him and Sam had split, leaving you behind. You cursed to yourself, silently willing that you would find the demon first so you could smite him with ease and not risk either brother’s safety.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t quite worked out that way. It had been well over an hour with no luck as you searched the stretch of abandoned warehouses. And neither you nor Dean could reach Sam’s phone. Fear set into your heart, a cocktail of worry and grace coursing through your veins. Your whole body was buzzing- normally, you would stop to calm it to avoid revealing yourself, but a horrible intuition left you no choice but to use it as fuel.

Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes blinked open, the dull pain in his head sharpening as he regained contact with his senses. There was a rope tied around him, anchoring him to a rickety chair and rubbing abrasively against his biceps.

“Sam Winchester. Good to see ya, champ. Rare to find you without your partner in crime these days.” Blinking back the spots in his vision, Sam’s eyes focused on the man in front of him- scratch that, the demon, as revealed by a quick flash of black.

Sam, struggling against his restraints, retorted. “Dean will be here-”

“Who said anything about Dean?” The demon cut him off, cocking his head. “I’m talking about your other little… friend. How’s it been, running all around town with that pet abomination of yours?” His smile was sickening, and there was something sinister about his words. He knew something Sam didn’t, and that was never a good thing.

“What are you talking about,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

“Nice try, Sam. Better get talking.” The demon sent Sam’s chair flying back into the wall to punctuate his command.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” The demon pulled Sam’s chair back to him.

“Oh, you really don’t know? Scout’s honor?” He paced a lap around Sam, lurking over him as spite radiated off his every stride. “That crafty little bitch. That’s too bad, I was hoping to ask you a few questions… I guess I have no use for you, but why not break the news before I kill you? Secrets don’t make friends, right?” He knelt, drawing himself eye to eye with Sam, before practically spitting the words. “That pretty little girlfriend of yours is really a-”

Before the demon could finish the thought, he was flat against the wall and screaming his way back to Hell. Sam, still tied to the chair, had a view limited to the empty room in front of him and the vessel the demon once possessed, now slumped in a pile on the floor. He released a breath, having watched the danger dissipate, before tensing back up. Whatever was behind him was powerful. He could feel every hair standing up on the back of his neck as his pulse began to pick up rapidly. Something was screaming inside him, begging him to get out, get away.

“Oh, Sammy. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” called the creature from behind him. The words hung heavy in the air, tinged with heartbreak. Sam froze. He knew the origin of the voice, but it couldn’t be. He whispered your name and you came running.

“Sam, sweetheart. Are you okay?” You knelt to the floor in front of him, unsheathing your knife to cut away his binds.

Sam simply stared in response, mouth slightly agape and confusion nestling into his furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want it to happen this way.” Guilt weighed heavy on you, as if you had done something horribly wrong. No, it was always to keep him safe, you reminded yourself.

Sam sat dumbfounded a moment longer. “What are you?” he finally coughed out. It was as if asking the question had triggered his brain to process the situation, and he tensed in preemptive self-defense.

This was it. No going back now. “I’m a nephilim, Sam.” Saying the words out loud felt like lifting the world off your own shoulders and watching it crash down all around you.

Your confession melted Sam’s expression into a series of reactions. You watched him work through the idea as if he was tossing your heart back and forth in his hands, weighing its pros and cons.

“Please tell me you understand why I didn’t tell you, Sam. Why I couldn’t-”

Sam’s tone was tense- his lack of reaction almost made things worse. “There’s no way you didn’t tell me about this. I’ve- we’ve known you for-”

“For years, Sam! Before you knew there were even angels, before Dean went to Hell, before you had any idea about the bigger picture! That just goes to show you, Sam- I’m not part of any of this! I’ve kept my head down for thousands of years, not raising any flags or drawing any attention to myself. And then I met you- I met you and I had to love you, Sam, I had to. And then I had to watch you go through so much pain and suffering and all I wanted to do was help however I could but I-”

“But you couldn’t. Because it would put you in danger.” If Sam had landed on a stance, you sure couldn’t decipher it. His voice was soft and gentle, but his jaw flexed and his expression narrowed.

“It would put you in danger too, Sam. And Dean. And everyone else.” Your response was quick, calculated. You had played this conversation out too many times in your head. Except you never had thought very far beyond the why didn’t you tell me and into the well what the hell do we do now?

There was silence for a beat.

“The demon knew.” Sam spoke somberly, like he was hand-delivering you a death sentence.

“And now you know,” you contended, defeated. A heartbroken breath wracked through your body, shuddering out of your lungs as you stabilized yourself to avoid teetering over. It was like the wind had been knocked out of you- like you and the man you loved most in the whole world had been plucked from safety and tossed out into open season.

“So what does this mean?” Sam’s tone sat on the fence between concern for your apparent emotions and the fear and confusion that had characterized the rest of your exchange.

“It means you can’t tell a soul, Sam. Not Dean, not anyone. Anyone who knows is at risk. And it means I… should probably leave.” Your stomach churned as you spoke. All of your worst fears were materializing in front of you. Try as you might, even your powers couldn’t zap them away. Your eyes rose to meet Sam’s, and finally, you could read his expression with clarity.

“No,” Sam shook his head.

“Sam, I can’t put you in danger-”

“And I can’t lose you!” You recoiled at his outburst. “I can’t lose you.” The second utterance was softer, bearing a greater resemblance to the sweet words Sam often shared with you.

“Sam, if anyone finds out…” you pleaded. As much as it broke your heart, you couldn’t bear to put Sam in any more danger.

“They won’t. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.” Sam’s gaze was intense as he studied you. It was as if he was learning you all over again- like you were someone brand new to him. And yet, you could still see the love in his eyes. You were still you, after all. This was just a new layer of you. Sam had promised to love you, all of you. And if nothing else, he was a man of his word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and ran a thumb over your cheekbone, as if maybe you might feel different under his touch. And when you didn’t, his last scraps of hesitance melted away. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Just… promise me not to tell Dean until we figure this out.”

“Promise not to tell me what?”

118 notes · View notes

vhyunjinverse · 1 year ago

Text

The French Kiss

gn!reader x dean winchester

summary: Turns out..you’ve never kissed anyone before, to Dean’s surprise, so he teaches you.

warnings: none! fluff, first time kissing, intense kissing, heavy touching

“Oh come on- you serious?” His mocking laugh made to shrink more into yourself. Sitting there wearing an oversized sweatshirt that covered your legs. You sat there on Dean’s bed in the bunker, only you two in the home-like place. “I’m serious.” You muttered.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“No.”

“I find that to be bullshit- Have you seen yourself?” That made you shiver. You look up at him, face flushed in embarrassment. He popped open a bottle of water and came closer. “I know i’m hot. Trust me, i’m well aware.” You scoff, “doesn’t mean I just go around kissing people, unlike some of us..”

He rolled his eyes at that, taking a seat next to you, “Well, don’t just sit there- come on.” He motions you forward and your body moves on its own, scooting closer to him. This whole thing- You and Dean, it was new to you. For years you kept to yourself until a case brought you to the Winchesters. Since then, you’ve been inseparable. It was only recently you started to feel something for Dean..seeing him in a way you’ve never seen before.

It was days like these in the bunker where you two just talked comfortably- that’s how it started. Your talks together..just You and Dean.

You lean forward, lips puckered, ready to kiss him. But he laughs, “Dude- okay come on. We have to set the mood. Loosen up a bit huh?” His hands move forward, grabbing your chin. Your hands shook nervously… His thumb grazed your cheek, his other hand gently coming down on your thigh. “It happens naturally..” He murmured, lips close to yours. “So I’ve heard.” you swallow nervously, eyes looking at his as they fluttered shut.

“Close your eyes.” you hear him groan. your eyes flutter shut, and then you felt it- Dean’s lips pressed against yours. You couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped out of your mouth. His lips move against yours. It felt strange, you felt light but your heart heavy. Your hands grip his shirt, and he pulled back.

“Well?” He asks, hands still at your thigh, skidding up.

“Is that it?”

“Oh we haven’t even done french kissing.” He laughs as you catch your breath. Dean lays your body back on the bed, slowly hovering over your body. “Let me know if this is too much okay?”

“..Okay.” you murmur, wanting his lips back on yours. “I’m gonna do something different- and if you don’t like it then-“

“Kiss me already please Dean, god.” That makes him laugh and his lips are back on yours in an instant. Your body felt hot, at the touch of his hand going from your thigh to your hip. His thumb grazing over the bone gently. They ran over the stretch marks, making you gasp. Dean took that opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips.

It made you jump- the feeling strange and new. But he’s gentle…something you didn’t expect from Dean in any way possible. His tongue slips over your own, like a blanket. He damn near swallows your mouth whole. He lets out a small grunt, and you could tell he held back some.

You kissed him back to the best of your ability, even when your teeth bumped against his- he said it was okay- you still kissed. Your body was on fire. You couldn’t help but let out a small noise when he pulled back. His lips red, yours swollen.

“Well?” He asks, looking down at you with a small smile. “How was that for our first lesson?”

“First lesson?” You pant.

“Well yeah, doesn’t just stop there.” He scoffs out a laugh

421 notes · View notes

gabriels-blade · 3 months ago

Text

[Return]

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, P in V, Angst, Semi-Public Sex (Car Sex), Possibly OOC

Summary: He always has to leave but he also always returns to you.

He allows himself to feel you - lets himself fall into the rolling currents of it, dragged out yet again. You may as well be hell because he knows he'll be gone again soon and he must leave you behind, yet your hooks always remain, chains drawing him back inevitably… But you're no demon. No monster. You're something softer than he's used to.

“Dean - Ow!”

He's snapped out of his haze - realizing he accidentally put his elbow into your ribs, quickly readjusting - the impala no doubt also giving a little shake in the process. Usually - that doesn't happen.

“Sorry.”

“Where's your mind at?”

“Just got a little lost in your eyes.”

He gives that little smirk but you don't buy that bucket of horse crap for a minute, though before you can call him on it - he begins again - picking up the pace till nothing but choked moans surface from your throat, his hips rolling to ensure he hits that spot that has you drooling and latching onto him like a vice. He wears the scratches from your nails with pride.

“That's it… Look so pretty like this.”

He murmurs while letting out some soft noises of his own, nose bumping your cheek lightly. He goes until you both come undone, Baby no doubt needing a good cleaning after this and you know how seriously he'll take it. Slowly he pulls back - green eyes softened in that certain way that is rare to catch but you never miss it.

“You better come back soon.”

“Yeah.”

#mdni #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural smut #supernatural x f!reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #vee's spn gallery

79 notes · View notes

wxckedwxrld · 1 year ago

Text

SPN: Dean Winchester

Imagines

* - smut ^ - angst • - fluff

Masterlist

•^ worth it

PSA: these writings ARE NOT MINE. This is a list of fanfiction I have read during august and sept. All credit goes to the original and rightful writers

39 notes · View notes

animasola86 · 3 months ago

Text

🐺 A FILLING EXPERIENCE

knotting!dildo x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 9.8k

You were a little drunk and very horny when you browsed the website looking for a new sex toy. When your order arrives, however, you feel like you did something very wrong. Or did you? Maybe it'll grow on you? (Not sure that's a good thing, though.) Prepare for a wild ride.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Sex toys! Possessed sex toys. Masturbation. Knotting. Referenced werewolves. Referenced A/B/O dynamics. Possession. Vaginal sex. Breeding. Memory loss. (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: The prompt was "knotting, masturbation, sex toys". The pairing is what it is. For a reference picture of the star of the show (aka the dildo) check it on AO3! (Also, very surprisingly, but this is not an ad for Bad Dragon, I swear.)

You spend a whole minute staring at the item you just pulled out of the unassuming box. The sheer size of it both makes your head spin and mouth very, very dry (at the same time, you feel a growing wetness somewhere much lower). Wow. Just wow. What is that thing? You're absolutely sure you ordered it in a different size, the smallest to be exact, so this can't be right.

Licking your lips, you blink, focusing back on the packaging. There isn't anything on the box, but you find a little sheet of paper next to the satin bag it came with. The dimensions listed make you frown. Putting the hefty item back on your desk, you fumble for the ruler you keep in one of the drawers. Then you start measuring the damn thing.

It's almost nine inches long, if you dismiss the large base that holds it steady to any surface. The head is the smallest part, two inches wide and tapered, the shaft flares out then, you measure two and a half inches in width, sloping into a soft curve lined with ridges and little nubs, before the main attraction protrudes in a rather menacing way: the knot, two bulbous bumps, and they even added thick veins to the design. Your hand is shaking when you put the ruler next to it. Three point five six inches wide.

That's a lot. Way too much. This will never fit inside you. Ever.

And still you are intrigued. Of course you are, you ordered that dildo for a reason, even if it came in the wrong size. (You could return it, you know that, but it's been a thrill to order it in the first place, so sending it back seems like too much of a hassle.) But just seeing it now, sitting heavy on your desk, with your small hand resting beside it, with its intricate and strangely realistic textures, it looks too intimidating.

You've read these werewolf stories where some fair maiden stumbles through the forest and ends up getting relentlessly knotted by the monster (or the more modern versions of some alpha male knotting his omega mate to help them through their heat, which always fascinated you a little more because it seemed not as fantastical). The idea to have something big inside you, filling you, stretching you out, and then something even bigger holding you in place, making it impossible to move, gives you chills, in the good way.

You may have been a little drunk and very horny when you ordered this fantasy dildo, but seeing it now, in the “flesh”, makes you very anxious. This was a stupid purchase. It won't be the same anyway. It's just the disembodied dick of a creature that doesn't exist in the first place. You'll be stuffed, sure, but you'll miss the warmth and the strength of whoever this would be attached to.

You sigh. Well, nothing you can do about it. You neither have a boyfriend to test this out with nor do you possess any magical abilities to make that fantasy come true, and as of right now, you don't see yourself using the damn thing anyway. It's too large (your other dildos look downright puny in comparison), and you are too small.

Despite it all, it is mesmerizing you. You chose a deep midnight blue as the color, that blends from a lighter blue at the tip into an almost black at the base, which makes it look slightly slimmer than it is. Slowly you move your hand up and close it around the curved shaft, well, you try, your fingers are too short to reach all the way around. You still slide your palm along the ridges and bumps, feeling the firm smooth silicone. It gives way in some places, you can bend it just a little bit, but when your hand reaches the knot, those bulbs feel almost a little too rigid.

You squeeze them, watching your knuckles blanching, knowing you will never have the same grip with your pussy. Warmth rushes into your cheeks at the thought. Biting your lip, you keep stroking the strange toy, getting a feel for it, trying to imagine how it would fit inside you. With how hefty the base is, you would have to put it on the ground and lower yourself onto it, which sounds like a workout you're not so sure you'd like.

But maybe the base comes off and you can use it like a regular dildo, snuggled into bed, hidden under your blanket? You lift the thing up and try to twist the base, but nothing happens. Hmm. At least it's sturdy. You find a little hole at the bottom, and you remember you ordered it with a... what did they call it, cumtube? Sounds weird, but it's just a long tube you can fill with cum-like lube that shoots out at some point? You're not too clear on the workings of that. But the idea to be filled by something warm and sticky makes your stomach tense up in anticipation.

Shifting on your chair, you inhale sharply and pull your hand away from the dark blue item. Well, this is not going to happen, not now. Maybe never. The idea is nice, but you don't see it being too pleasurable in reality. So you pack it up into its unassuming black satin bag along with the bottle of lube and the long tube it came with, and store it in the lowest drawer of your desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

Or so you hope.

When you go to bed that night, you see the large dildo in your mind's eye, and you recall these smutty stories, you imagine the grunts of the werewolf as he fucks the poor woman beneath him, rutting into her like the feral creature he is. And how she screams when he bottoms out, pressing all those inches into her, forcing his knot to stretch her entrance, how her pussy lips grip around it and pull it further inside. You have your hand between your legs as you try to imagine what it must feel like to be this full, to be bred and filled, with nowhere to go, stuck on those bulging bulbs.

A moan escapes you as your body shudders. You could try it. You have the hardware. It's right there. You just have to get up and get it... But you're too cozy in bed, under your warm blanket, with your fingers rubbing hard circles around your clit. You end up coming to the idea of it, and that's enough for you. Content with your heart racing, you exhale loudly, wiping your wet fingers on your thigh before you snuggle into the bedding and close your eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Maybe not as dreamless as you've hoped. You wake up the next morning with a dry throat and sticky thighs, your mind swimming with images of cocks plunging into squelching holes, of being held down and ravaged, and you shudder at the memory. Blinking your eyes into focus, you sit up – and freeze.

There, on top of your desk, sits the large dark blue dildo, shining in the sunlight filtering through your window. No way. You've put it into the drawer, into its bag, far away, and even though you thought about using it last night, you didn't. And even if, you wouldn't put it back on the desk like that, right? But it's there, almost mocking you. Slowly you stand up and walk towards your desk, reaching out a hand to touch the smooth surface.

It's sticky, almost warm to the touch. What the hell? But you haven't used it, you're sure, you'd certainly remember it, wouldn't you? Shaking your head, you dismiss it for the moment and start your morning routine as if nothing happened.

Before you leave for the day, you grab the dildo and the toy cleaner you keep in your bedside table and give it a good scrub. Then you hide it away again, shutting the drawer with a firm thud. You are tempted to put a lock on it, but that's just silly.

Later that evening, you sit in bed and scroll through the stories on your phone, mindlessly skimming through your preferred genres. Somehow you end up on another knotting story. What are the odds. This one is set in the omegaverse, depicting an alpha bodyguard taking care of the omega girl in his care... by knotting her senseless. Just your kind of story. You end up with your fingers in your cunt, rubbing and poking desperately as you read.

You're close, your thighs twitching with every brush against your sensitive clit, stomach tense, feet curling into the sheets as you pump your hips. Your breaths are frantic, heart thundering inside your chest. Soundless, strangled gasps escape you (you're always mindful of your noises, these walls are thin and you don't want to alarm or entertain your neighbors) and you squirm and writhe, your phone falling out of your hand when you have to clutch at the edge of the bed.

“Fuck,” you croak out quietly while you roll onto your side and press your thighs together, trapping your hand, fingers stilling inside your clenching pussy as your body convulses under the mind-numbing throes of your orgasm.

You lie there for a moment, taking deep gulps of air into your burning lungs, slowly calming down again. Through the dark room you look towards your desk. And you can see it, your new toy, hidden away, waiting, and before you know it, you stumble off the bed and rip the drawer open and the large dildo out of its bag. You don't even care about the lube at this point.

With your back pressed into the bed, you rub the tapered tip between your wet folds, gathering your slick. You need both hands to guide the big thing back and forth, it's quite heavy. With your heart racing and your stomach fluttering, you angle your hips, feet pressed into the bed, and then you push. The head parts your lips and sinks into your entrance, and it's already a stretch that makes you inhale sharply.

But you keep going, your arms shaking under the exertion of forcing the toy deeper. You feel its protruding ridges and nubs rubbing against your soft walls as you start moving it in and out slowly. There's still so much of it in your hands, but the curve of the thing already presses between your tight muscles. You turn it slightly, figuring out which way feels best, and in doing so drill it even further.

You stop before your pussy lips brush against the bulbous knot, and you hold it tightly when you let the thing just rest inside you for a moment, feeling its girth and length and weight, its textures and shape. Clenching around the toy, you try to relax on the bed, grinding your hips slowly against your hands. It feels amazing, those ridges and nubs seem to hit all the right spots. Little moans slip from your parted lips, mouth hanging open as you squeeze your eyes shut.

The base is heavy between your fingers, and you feel them cramping slightly as you continue to move the large dildo in and out, considering using it like it's intended to be used: standing upright on the ground as you impale yourself on it. But it's a daunting thought, and your legs are already shaking badly. You doubt you have enough strength left to do squats on it now.

So you keep pumping half of it into your tight cunt, both hands closed around the hefty base, hips meeting your thrusts, the wet squelching sounds echoing through your room, adding to the growing arousal inside you. Your wrists hurt under the strain, but you're desperate now, hectic whines escaping you as you double your efforts, pushing and pulling, ramming that damn thing into you as fast as you can.

Arching your back and lifting your hips off the bed, you lean into the impending release, so close, a few more nudges, come on – when a sudden cold breeze over your sweaty face alerts you to something you cannot stop. It's as if an unseen force pushes the dildo with you, stronger than your own hands, an assist you didn't ask for.

But you're too far gone, gasping with your mouth wide open, head pressed into your pillow, thighs twitching, the tension ready to explode, and then it does, and at the same time as your orgasm crashes over you, a strange jerk goes through your body, and your usually voiceless cry becomes a real one, an almost scream as you feel your clenching cunt being stretched. Your hands fall away from the toy in an attempt to let it pop out and relish in the empty feeling as your contractions shake your body, but there's no empty feeling, because you're not empty.

You're stuffed. Somehow the knot has made it into your tight channel and your pussy lips grip the shaft beneath it, and as much as you push and clench, it doesn't budge. Cold panic rips you from your post-orgasmic bliss. Your hands claw at the base sticking out of you as you gyrate your hips, feeling every ridge and nub and bump pressing hard into your fluttering walls, but the toy is lodged within you. How did that happen?

Breathing harder, both from the exertion and the anxiety of having a sex toy stuck in your cunt, you wail quietly, rolling onto your side, lifting your leg, pulling on the damn thing. No chance. It's in there now. Knot and all, and the more you squirm, the more you feel the tapered tip pressing into depths nothing has ever pressed into before. It's a strange pain, sharp and piercing, a jolt of electricity with every movement of your body.

You lie on your back now, legs still angled, thighs twitching, trying to calm yourself down. You need to relax your muscles to get it out, you know that, but it's hard, as hard as the toy inside you. And somehow you feel it... expanding? No, that must be your imagination. It's not one of those inflatable things, you made sure of that. But the stretch is there, and it hurts.

Your hands are back between your legs, gripping the hefty base, but in your attempt to rip it out somehow, you suddenly feel it loosening and with another surprised/pained gasp, you realize you're holding the base of the toy – but without the toy.

“No!” you wail louder, staring at the dark piece of silicone between your fingers. It came right off, not as sturdy as initially suspected after all. You throw it aside and finger at the now-base of the fake shaft. It's barely sticking out now, your cunt eager to swallow it whole it seems. Whining in panic, you try to hook a finger between your tightly stretched skin and the dildo, but there's no way you can grip it like this.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as your anxiety grows. Chill. Calm down, it'll pop out on its own, they always do, don't worry, you try to soothe yourself. Not the first time you accidentally pushed a toy in too deep, but those were smooth ones, half as long and half as thick, with no ridges or knots, of course they'd slip out again. But this thing? It's a fucking knot, designed, by nature, to keep itself lodged inside any unsuspecting hole.

You think back to those stories you read about the topic. Those were fictional though, and every author handled it slightly differently. In some of them, the knot would just deflate when the man (or werewolf) was done dumping his potent load into his victim or mate, in others it stayed bulbous and inflated for a long time, locking the two people together, which, in a way, is a romantic thing and something you'd like to experience once in your life as well, but there's nobody attached to the dildo in your cunt, no one to hold you, to calm you, to rub your back and ease you through the pain of stretching and being filled.

The thought makes you sad, and in your frustration you buck your hips, only to gasp when the motion causes the toy to rub against these very sensitive spots that make your toes curl. You move your pelvis again, ripping a quiet moan from your throat, and then you fall into a slow rhythm of undulating into the bed, one hand back on your mound, feeling the tight fit of the toy before you start rubbing your swollen clit gently.

Before you know it, you work yourself to yet another orgasm, and the dildo seems to work with you. You even nudge its base a little, pushing it deeper, right against that sweet spot in the far back, and you groan at the sensation of pleasure/pain as you thrash your head into the pillow. Rolling onto your side, you keep grinding against the heavy thing inside you, panting under the exertion, your body curled up tightly, just like the coil in your tense stomach.

You're teetering on the edge, head empty except for that delicious cotton that makes you forget everything. It feels so good. The stretch, the pressure, the snug fit, those ridges and nubs and those seemingly pulsing bulbs pressing right against your g-spot. Mewls and wails fall from your trembling lips, and in your haze, you end up on your stomach where you lift your hips up and start humping your mattress feverishly.

The additional stimulation to your clit makes you cry out loudly, and you can only muffle your noises by pressing your face into the pillow. Your hard nipples rub against the fabric of your shirt with every gyrating motion with how you scrape your chest over the bed, and it doesn't take long before you stumble right over the edge, your muscles clenching hard around the toy, squeezing with all they have, as a million bright lights explode around you.

You're too far gone to think at that point, but if you would have been able to, you'd wonder why the toy doesn't come shooting out of your convulsing channel like most other toys would. It's not just the knot holding it in place, there's a strange force keeping your hips up and the dildo inside you. But you notice none of it, not the stiff position of your body as you tremble and quake, hands clawing at the sheets, knuckles white, fingers hurting, you just keep riding the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

You do, however, feel a familiar warmth gathering deep inside you, and you assume it's your own release waiting to gush past the item if it weren't for the knot plugging you up like a cork. Though it feels a little different, not something your body produced due to high stimulation, but something being added...

You groan deeply when your body makes a forward jerk as you feel the toy moving within you. Which shouldn't be possible. It's almost as if it's pulsing, throbbing, twitching, and with those motions something hot pushes into you, filling you up, seeping into every nook and cranny left by the large toy invading your already tight space. You shudder deeply, wondering in your fucked-out state what's going on, before you feel a strange stretch, a pressure building up inside you, and then, like an airlock being lifted, a strange squelching sound appears and you feel something hot and sticky trickling down your leg.

Remaining in your bent-over position, you move a hand between your legs and feel for whatever is leaking out of you. It's thick, thicker than your own juices, and much stickier. You bring it to your eyes, and whatever liquid it is, it pulls into thin strands as you part your fingers. Feels like cum. You blink at the sight and feel of it, and in your stupor, you roll onto your side, feeling more of it gathering between your legs.

When you're on your back again, you lift your hips, your sticky hand rubbing over your bare stomach, trying to ignore how tense and full it feels, down to your mound, teasing at the stretched opening. You feel the silicone against your fingertips, and it's no longer an intruder you want to get out immediately, it's become a strangely comforting feeling, despite the out of nowhere appearing cum-like substance. Maybe you filled it up before you used it? You can't remember, honestly. Does it matter? Not really.

You enjoy the feeling of fullness, the stretch and pressure, how with every slight movement the toy's ridges dig into your soft walls. The curve of it fits perfectly inside you, and the bulbous knot makes it sit so snug, as if it was made specifically for your cunt. You almost laugh at your initial apprehension and how you thought that huge thing would never fit into your tiny body, but look at you now, stuffed and happy.

With one hand on your mound, now eager to keep the toy in, as you rub your swollen labia gently, you roll onto your side and snuggle into your bed, your other hand pulling the sheets over your sweat-slick, sticky body. You don't care about washing up, you just want to sleep, softly riding out the blissful tremors of what this amazing toy has made you feel.

Closing your eyes, you imagine lying next to your alpha mate, or even a fluffy werewolf, as he holds you tightly pressed to his warm body, cock stuck inside your clenching cunt, knotting you to your (and his) heart's content.

But despite feeling exhausted, you can't stop grinding your hips against your hand, breathing harder when the warmth and tension builds up all over again as the dildo presses into all the right places. Soft moans slip from your dry lips, a shudder crashing through you at the feel of the tight knot stretching your sensitive skin. That last orgasm before you actually fall asleep is a mild one, a soothing thing washing over you, a warm embrace from something that isn't there.

You wake up with a sigh, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to start the new day. There is a strange soreness between your legs, as well as a very sticky sensation on your skin, but you don't care much for it – before you sit up and yelp when a sudden pain crashes through you. You stand up so fast your head is spinning, and as you press a hand to your mound, you can feel that the dildo is still lodged snugly inside you.

Yet you don't even have time to panic as the room grows dark all of a sudden. Then it all happens very fast. Somehow you are being turned and bent over the foot of the bed, chest pressed into the mattress by a force you can't explain. Your hands grip for the sheets as you struggle against whatever is holding you down. Are you still dreaming? You can't be sure. It feels too real.

And the pain when something pulls at the dildo in your cunt, when the knot stretches your pussy lips as it forces its way past them, is very, very real and makes you wail into the bedding. After the first stretch, the rest of the toy slips out easily, and with it comes a flood of something warm and sticky, spraying against your inner thighs, dripping down your legs, pooling around your bare feet on the floor. You gasp at the sudden emptiness.

All that wasted seed, you think as if someone has planted the thought into your head. Better put in a new load. Before you can properly wonder about where those words came from, you feel something nudging against your stretched entrance. You stand on shaking legs, ass in the air, torso pushed down into the bed, and you struggle, or try to, but you can't move. It's as if you're frozen in time and place, held down by an invisible force.

It's too dark to see anything, not that you could anyway with how your face is buried in the sheets. All you can do is take it, and even that you're not sure you can. It feels like something is standing behind you, something cold that lets goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin, and at the same time there's something very hot sinking into your fluttering cunt. You know it's the silicone toy warmed by your own body, but it feels different somehow. It feels... real.

You grunt with every sharp stab it gives you, parting your folds, plunging deep, but not as deep, teasing you with those ridges and nubs that scrape over your gummy walls, and the swell of that knot nudges against your entrance, never breaching it. Not yet anyway. The pace is brutal, a feral rutting, pistoning in and out fast and hard, and you can barely contain your noises anymore. They're muffled but still loud in your ears. Maybe because they're the only thing you hear, aside from the wet squelching of your cunt.

Whatever is pushing that dildo into you, whatever took over for you, doesn't make a sound, but you can feel it, you know it's there, holding you down and restrained. Whatever it is.

As sure as you are about the invisible force fucking you on your own bed, you are about the impending orgasm creeping closer with every hard thrust. The constant in and out of the rigid toy makes your head spin, your stomach tense, your thighs tremble. You're moaning and mewling, desperate for release as the warmth gathers in your core, ready to burst free. You even manage to press your hips back and meet the motions of the toy pounding into you.

And then you come, wailing loudly, barely restrained, lights exploding behind your eyelids as your body shudders and convulses, and you feel something wet splattering on the wooden floor, adding to the mess pooling around your feet. You've never squirted before, but you just know that's what happened, if you could analyze the moment, which you can't because your head is deliciously empty as you let bliss take over your thinking apparatus.

You barely register how the toy keeps plunging into your wet cunt, those squelching noises obscene if you would care about them, and as you still float on that amazing high, you feel its thrusts getting slower, slightly deeper, more deliberate, those bulging bulbs nudging firmer against your pussy lips, and suddenly the pressure grows stronger, making you gasp and your legs shake badly, and you fight it, stiffen, muscles tensing up, making it all the worse, but whatever controls the large dildo doesn't care as it pushes it further into your protesting cunt.

You let out a deep groan when it finally breaches the tight squeeze, stretching your sensitive skin, slipping into you, and that motion, the getting swallowed by your own body, turns your wails of distress into cries of pure pleasure as you come again around the invading object, your walls fluttering around the knot. You almost lose your footing, but the force that's penetrating you is still holding you up, no matter how badly your body spasms against the bed.

The dildo is back inside of you, all of it, from the tapered tip that teases at your cervix to the swollen protrusions to the bit of shaft after that. Your cunt clenches around all of it, holding it in place, hugging it to its contracting walls, letting it rub against all those special spots. And you keep shaking, so sensitive by now the slightest motion causes you to gasp and shudder. You'd be content like this, having it inside you, just resting, as heavy and large as it is, but whatever decided to take over, doesn't see it that way.

While you couldn't possibly push the thing deeper the last time it was wedged into you, you now feel it moving, nudging further, the hard tip pressing into your depths, stretching you in a way you've never been stretched before. It hurts, but it also feels good. And it's good that you think so, as you don't have a choice in the matter anyway.

The toy is pushed and pulled in slow fluid motions, and you feel the knot pressing hard against your entrance, stretching but never leaving your cunt. That doesn't stop the force behind you, though. The shallow thrusts continue until they turn into a desperate rutting, quick short stabs that make you howl as they bully both your deepest spot and the tight muscles of your hole. It's painful in the best way possible, and you feel your legs trembling, your stomach tensing, that warmth filling you up before it all explodes, catapulting you over the edge all over again.

You scream as you come, luckily muffled by how your face is still pressed into the bedding, but the sensation isn't any less extreme. Your orgasm crashes over you like the biggest tidal wave you've ever experienced, not that you have seen any of those before, but it sure feels like it hits you straight in the chest and drags you along, throwing you around, unrelenting, merciless, as you're being pushed and pulled and gasping for air.

Your walls clench hard around the still pistoning intruder, the curve, the ridges, the nubs, that fucking knot, all playing vital roles in keeping you afloat (or drowning), prolonging the gloriously mind-blowing experience. You feel dizzy, your heart thundering in your chest, lungs burning, body arching and spasming, as you are being hurdled from one orgasm to the next, or so it feels, and it never ends, not even when the toy suddenly stills, pushed as deep as possible, and then it throbs.

Even though you're barely able to feel anything anymore, you can feel its vibrations, the thrum from deep within it, and it shouldn't do that, it's not a vibrating toy, you tell yourself, it's also not an inflating one, but it still seems to swell, or the knot is, and it's pulsing against your tense muscles, stretching them, working inside you, and then... it unloads.

The warmth it fills you with is scorching, so filling you feel it bulging your stomach, which shouldn't be possible, and you may even taste it on your tongue as you gulp for air. It's all around you, but mostly inside you, and there it stays because the knot keeps it from spilling out. You are plugged shut, and it keeps pumping, giving you more, and it feels both oddly comforting and terrifyingly too much. You feel like bursting, so full, way too full, but all you can do is groan quietly.

With your mind still reeling, you are suddenly moved, lifted up by invisible hands (or paws?), cradled against something strangely warm as you're being put onto your side on the bed, your stomach fluttering and bulging, tensing badly under the onslaught of whatever liquid is pumped into your depths. The knotting dildo remains deep inside you, stuck and locked in, and you become drowsy, exhausted from whatever just happened. The darkness is still all around you, but you feel warm and content and taken good care of.

A smile grazes your dry lips as you imagine lying in the embrace of a mate, a lover, holding you after the strenuous ordeal of being knotted and bred, as their cock keeps pumping cum into you, as you remain tied together. And it feels so real...

Your eyes flutter close, and you inhale deeply, shifting slightly with your precious cargo inside you. As you drift into unconsciousness, the room grows brighter again, letting in the warm sunlight of a day already reaching its halfway point. Of course, you notice none of that, gone as you are.

When you stir awake, the darkness is back, this one real, lying like a heavy blanket all around you, while you lie on your side, shivering because you seemed to have kicked off your own blanket. Once you come to fully, you feel a little strange. Your mind is fuzzy, laden with images that couldn't have happened. Did you dream all that? Surely. It would be too weird if not.

But then why do you feel full when at the same time you are blatantly empty? Rolling onto your back, you grind your hips, assessing if you were indeed knotted and bred, but there's nothing. Your stomach rumbles, and when you touch it, it's normal, not bulged and tense but soft, and that's probably where the emptiness comes from. You're hungry, but that hunger also feels like an air pocket inside you, too big to ignore, giving you the feeling of being full? It's a strange sensation, to say the least.

And then there's another kind of emptiness. The one sitting invisibly in your aching little cunt disguised as nothingness. The toy is gone. You recall vividly how deep it's been in you, how stuck and immobile and heavy it sat between your clenching walls, but now they are fluttering around nothing. Where did it go?

You sit up, rubbing your naked arms, realizing you are indeed completely naked. Strange, didn't you go to bed with your sleep shirt? And why is it dark? It's been morning before, what happened to the rest of the day? You lean over to the lamp on your bedside table and the dark room is suddenly bathed in a warm yellow light, causing your eyes to wander straight towards your desk.

And there it is, sitting on its hefty base, the dark blue knotting dildo, in all its glory, with its curve, those ridges and nubs, and the formidable two bulbs making up the knot of the thing. You blink at the sight, confusion washing over you like a cold shiver. Slowly you stand up, groaning as you do, feeling your limbs shaking. Why are you so weak? Rubbing your stomach, you take a few steps before you almost slip on the floor.

Something wet coats the soles of your feet, and when you look down there's a big puddle of something shiny all over the wooden boards. Some of it is clear, but there's also a white shimmer to it, and you feel your heart accelerating as you remember how that came to be (even if the memory is faint, but seeing the evidence makes it all the more real and that frighteningly so). The feeling of being filled to the brim and leaking with the rest of it, the sensation of coming so hard you squirted all over the floor, while a strange force pounded your new toy into your willing body. Has it really happened? Apparently. But how is that possible?

Your heart beats faster as you keep walking until you reach the large dildo, standing proud and tall and girthy. You reach out with a shaking hand, carefully sliding your fingers over the textured shaft, tracing the thick veins on it. It feels warm and sticky, and it makes your blood run cold. It feels real, and it shouldn't. You know that. You're not crazy.

But there are too many things you just can't explain. How did it get back on the desk, back on the base you seemingly broke off last time? How was it possible that the toy fucked you on its own, in that bent-over position, and why weren't you able to move as it happened?

You feel chills all over your naked body. In that moment your rational mind just gives up. Normally you don't believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, but how else could you explain any of this? Is the toy haunted? Possessed?

It's a silicone thing, man-made, fabricated to cater to certain people's needs, a fantasy product, but it feels real, it pumped seemingly real cum into you (or so you think, it could still have been loaded with that artificial stuff without your knowledge and by squeezing it too hard you made it come out?), it fucked you as if attached to the real deal (whatever the real deal was).

Staring at the item, you lick your lips, eyes scanning every inch of its ridged surface. As creepy as this whole situation is, you still can't deny how good it felt also. How full and happy you were, how many times you came as it rammed into you, how those little nubs felt against your tense walls. They clench just remembering it. And somehow, from the darkest corner of your mind, comes the need to put it back in, feel it again, let the knot lock you up...

A shaky sigh escapes you, and you force yourself to look away from its tantalizing appeal. No. You can't. It'll all happen again, a mind-blowing fuckfest, and you'll waste another day in bed or wherever this thing wants to fuck you, or you it, it's still unclear how that happened, and maybe it was just your extremely horny mind who made up the idea of it being controlled by somebody else, maybe it has been you all along, driven crazy by sheer lust as you rammed that knot into your own cunt.

Shaking your head to clear it, you step away and into the bathroom. You spend a long time in there, inspecting and washing and handling your sore body, and when you emerge again, wrapped in a towel with your wet hair falling over your shoulders, the toy is still sitting on your desk. You watch it, but don't approach it. Instead you leave the room and venture into the kitchen to satiate the human need of eating, and after you sat at the counter and shoveled a bowl of cereal into your achingly empty stomach, you return to your bedroom.

The sight of that thing haunts you. You feel antsy just looking at it. In the end, you pick it up and put it down on the wooden desk chair, something you feel like doing, as if something put that thought into your head, a not too unfamiliar sensation. Then you pull the chair back, drop your towel and move to sit down on it. Again, you're barely thinking about it, it's like a need, an urge, a thing that feels right.

So you squat down on the toy, feeling the tapered tip pressing between your folds, and as soon as it breaches your entrance, pushing against your sore muscles, you gasp, hands curled around the edge of the desk to ground yourself as you let gravity do the rest. Or most of it. You feel the curve sinking into your tight depths, carving a way into your gummy walls, but when the knot presses against your pussy lips, you pause, breathing harder.

It feels too big, but you know it can fit inside you, it's happened before. Inhaling deeply, you try to relax, gyrating your hips to ease it into you, but your hole's too tight, unwilling to part further. You're in that weird half-squat, hovering over the chair, arms propped on the desk in front of you, and instead of giving up, you start moving up and down, fucking yourself slowly on the curved shaft, feeling those ridges and nubs and the tip poking at those delicious spots.

You're panting from the exertion, thighs burning under the strain, but you keep going even when sweat drops down your brows. You feel as if your muscles are opening up, and before your legs give in, you slam your hips down. A shrill shriek escapes you as you feel the knot stretching you open, your sensitive skin and muscles giving way, allowing it inside before they close back around it, swallowing it and the whole thing inside of you. You moan when you feel it filling you out.

Sinking a few inches further, you feel your rear pressing against the base of the toy before you sit down fully, ass cheeks on the chair, the entirety of the dildo wedged between your tight walls. A trembling exhale escapes you as you try to relax on it, your arms shaking before you bring your hands to your lap, your chest rising and falling faster, your stomach fluttering. For a few minutes you just sit there, trying to calm your frantic breaths and your rapid heartbeat, adjusting to the filling sensation.

And then, as if you haven't just impaled yourself on a knotting dildo, you reach a hand out, turn the lamp on your desk on and pull the laptop closer that you keep at the edge of it. You've missed an entire day it seems, so you're hellbent on making up for it. As your fingers fly over the keyboard, you occasionally grind your hips into the chair, relishing in the sudden jolts of pleasure/pain as the toy nudges your insides.

You sit there and work until you've edged yourself so badly, you can barely think anymore. Leaning back in your chair with your hands flat on your desk, you inhale sharply, tilting your head back as you undulate against the toy wedged between your thighs. You're so sensitive, every single motion causes you to shiver deeply. Even the hefty base of the toy rubs delightfully against your mound, adding pressure where you didn't know you needed it. A moan escapes you, and you move your hands to your rear and pull your cheeks apart until you can grind against it better.

It feels so good. To be stuffed, to be teased like this, to feel all those little details on that firm silicone shaft. You want to congratulate whoever came up with this design. It's perfect.

In an attempt to feel more of it, you lift yourself up slightly, really wanting to ride that thing now, but of course the knot prevents you from doing so, plugging you up tightly. You can still nudge the curved dildo a little deeper, so you end up humping your chair with small shallow snaps of your hips, your thighs trembling after only a few minutes, your panting breaths loud in the quiet room.

With a little whine you stand up properly, but instead of forcing the toy out from between your clenching walls, you lift up the entire thing, base and all, as it's firmly stuck inside of you. Its weight is heavy between your legs, but you still manage to stumble towards the bed with it where you throw yourself onto your back, spread your legs, lift your hips and start pushing your hands against the base, working yourself up even more.

Once your wrists cramp up under the strain, you focus on stimulating your clit, and the first touch has you already writhing on the bed. Gasping quietly, you buck your hips against your own fingers as you keep rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves until your thighs spasm wildly. You feel the tension building, the warmth gathering inside you, and then you come with a soundless half-scream, mouth wide open, legs clamping shut around your hands as you ride out the waves of pleasure, the toy practically vibrating inside you with how your walls are fluttering around it.

Your limbs go limp then, hands falling away, legs falling open, as you try to catch your breath. Eyes closed, a stupid smile on your lips, you lie there like a stranded beetle, stomach convulsing, chest heaving. You don't notice how the darkness creeps back in, dimming out the warm light of the desk and bedside table lamp. You don't feel the cold wafting in the air around you, but you do feel the dildo moving, tiny movements, little nudges against your tight muscles until it pops out with an obscenely wet squelching sound, coaxing a deep sigh out of you.

You feel utterly relieved and satisfied and content, ready to fall asleep like that, with your legs wide open, presented on the bed like a strange little offering, and whatever lurks in the shadows around you, seems to take the bait.

It feels like your bed is moving, the mattress denting on either side of your hips, and then you're being lifted a little, and it's cold and warm at the same time as your legs are pushed up and against your chest, and as if you want this to happen, your hands move to grab your thighs, holding your legs like this. In this position you are wide open, a cool breeze on your swollen clit, your cunt clenching around nothing – but not for long.

The tapered tip pushes between your folds, eagerly sinking into your slightly stretched hole, scraping along your soft walls. The curved shaft follows, digging into you, its nubs and ridges rubbing against those sensitive spots that make you mewl softly. You are in a trance, held by lust even as exhaustion wants to pull you under. You don't question anything at this point, you just savor the sensations.

And you feel everything. The shaft moves then, in and out, shallow little stabs, carving its way deeper until you feel the bulbous knot pressing against your entrance. But it doesn't go in yet, it keeps slamming against your puffy lips, the wet squelching sounds a telltale sign of how aroused you still are. There's a strange weight to the thrusts, as if there would be more than just the toy being pushed into you, it feels as if it was attached to something much bigger, a presence you can't see (not even if you would open your eyes), but can sense in a way that feeds your longing.

The pounding continues, and that warmth builds up again, all around the thick shaft that moves between your tight walls with ease and power, in and out, fast and hard, and in an angle that makes you wail, bullying all the right spots until you can't hold it in you anymore. You come with a croaked cry as your body tenses up before it explodes into nothing but bliss, tiny lights dancing behind your eyelids, that soft warmth turning into a burning that devours all of you at once.

Through your orgasm the fake cock (or so you think) keeps pumping into you, those wet squelches are obscenely loud, and you moan and whine, hips bucking to meet the thrusts as your fingers dig into your own thighs, holding your legs squished against your breasts, your feet jumping above your head with every plunge.

And then it happens, your fluttering cunt gives way to the knot, but instead of plugging you up, it pops out, then plunges into you once more, and out again and in again, and you wail under the stretch and strange sensation of being stretched repeatedly. There's pain, but there's also blinding pleasure whenever it forces itself into you, and you keep coming from that motion alone, gasping and writhing, barely able to breathe or think or do anything but let it happen.

Now the whole length of the thing pushes into you, as deep as it'll go, bullying your cervix with its tapered tip, knot fully swallowed by your walls, then it's pulled back almost entirely before doing it all over again, driving you to the edge and over it and back and over in rapid succession. It's all a blur, but it feels so good, you could die on the spot just feeling it breaching your tight space over and over again.

Luckily, you don't die, you are just pushed from orgasm to orgasm, until every single nerve ending is buzzing and tingling, and you come to the point where you don't want to come any more. Not that the thing fucking you seems to mind that very much. It keeps going, in and out, your cunt giving off a lewd wet popping sound every time the knot is forced out and another wet slurping sound every time it's pushed in and swallowed by your walls. Along with your breathless whines and the squeaking of the bed, it's a cacophony of sounds driving you to the edge of sanity, and pleasure, and pain, and all of the above.

You feel yourself fading, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but just as you think you'll drift off now, the thing in your cunt plunges particularly deep, a final thrust full of power and strength, a heavy weight pressing you down as it prods painfully against your already battered cervix. You cry out, your body too confused, so it makes you convulse all over again as another orgasm crashes through you. The curved shaft stills inside you, ridges and nubs and its knot settling against your fluttering walls, and you feel as if it's throbbing and twitching, and the bulbs seem to grow, stretching you further, really plugging you up now.

A groan slips from your dry lips as it starts pumping something warm and filling into your cramped depths. Spurt after spurt, more and more, until you can feel your stomach bulging, tensing under the growing load, and your head is spinning as your body comes down from that strenuous but still utterly pleasurable experience. You feel a little drunk almost, dizzy and disorientated, wondering why you are still holding your legs up. But you stay like this, submitting to whatever leans over you, holding you down with their cock.

The last bit of your rational mind tells you you're just dreaming. Of course you are. And what a nice dream it is, hm? But then your eyes flutter open, and you blink at the darkness around you. It feels impenetrable, too dark. Even at night, you can usually make out the shape of your furniture, the outline of your windows, the streetlamps trying to push their light past your curtains. But you can see absolutely nothing. Did you even open your eyes?

You blink. Yeah, you did. There's something eerie in the way you're staring into the black void in front of you, it gives you chills, makes your body shudder, and as you jerk a little, you feel the weight and the pressure inside of you. The toy. It's still in there, buried deep, and it keeps throbbing, spewing liquid warmth into you. It feels so real. Your heart beats faster, your breaths quicken.

Then a strange hum fills the air, you freeze immediately, your eyes widening. It's a soothing sound as much as it is terrifying. It makes you stiffen, frozen in place, a deep chill running down your spine. And then there's this huff, like an exhale, and you can feel warm air wafting towards you, hitting your sweat-slick face. A tiny little croak escapes you as fear grips your limbs after all.

There is something, holding you down, impaling you on its cock, leaning over you, breathing right against your quivering lips. You can't see it, no matter how hard you try, but it's there. Huffing and puffing in a low, deep rumble, an unseen weight resting between your legs. Hot tears fall from under your lashes, running down your cheeks, but they never reach the pillow beneath your head.

It's a warm sensation, wet, almost a little slimy, and it feels like a tongue lapping at your skin, and the thought alone pushes you right to the edge of hysteria. Helpless whimpers escape you, but that disembodied, unseen tongue keeps licking up the tears continuously spilling from your eyes. Warm breaths dry your wet cheeks, those little huffs quieter now, calm and collected, and they slowly ease your own breathing as you stare ahead at nothing but blackness.

A little shriek is coaxed out of your throat when you feel the same tongue on your neck now, something soft nudging your calves until you let go of your legs and let them fall open against whatever has settled between them. They don't reach the soft bedding beneath but are held up now by something else, and you're too far gone to question it anymore. With your legs down, your torso is exposed to the shadows, your breasts trembling as your chest rises and falls quicker.

Those warm huffs of air hit your sensitive nipples before something warm circles them, and you can feel them being pulled and teased, making you shiver deeply, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit and fluttering cunt. The thick shaft inside you throbs as well, still leaking the occasional spurt of warm fluid. The knot is pulsing, tight and harder than before, or so it feels, those bulging veins on it rubbing deliciously against your stretched flesh.

You feel yourself drifting again under all these ministrations, lulled into your own darkness.

In your dreams, or whatever reality you find yourself in, you see a large shadow leaning over you. And you are calm about it, not afraid, but content. The appearance of the figure above you is hazy, like black smoke, fraying at its edges, no clear contour to make out. But what you can see (or think to see) are strong arms, a broad torso, muscles wherever you look. A display of strength and power and dominance, and in its shadow, you feel safe, protected.

You assume it's a large man, but you can't see his face. It's still too dark. But you can feel his breath on your skin, his lips trailing around your breasts, upwards to your collarbones, before you feel that warm tongue against your neck again. You tilt your head, giving him better access, and he hums deeply, showering you with little kisses and broad strokes of his tongue. Your pulse is fluttering against his mouth, and he senses your arousal, smells it. He seems to sniff you, hovering over you, warm and heavy.

“You are mine now,” you hear a low thrum in the air, assuming it's his voice. “My mate.”

You don't know what that means, but you're ready. You want it. And as if he can feel your approval, he leans in, his lips closing around your pulse, sucking softly, his teeth nibbling carefully, before you feel a different sensation. A pinch, a prick, a sudden cold stab when something sharp sinks into your skin.

You moan quietly as a strange warmth rushes through you (and out of you), the smell of metal wafting towards your nostrils, but you keep still, and without knowing what's happening, you let him bite you, mark you, and he grunts against you, holding your neck between his teeth as a shudder crashes through his big body that travels all the way to his cock buried deep inside of you. You feel it throbbing, the knot pulsing, and as your walls clench in response, you feel more warmth seeping into you as he fills you up again.

His hips grind against yours, soft little nudges, and you feel so good. An unusually gentle orgasm washes over you then, like a calming caress through your body that soothes you, eases your sore muscles, the slight pain in your neck, any other ailments you might have had. None of it matters anymore. You've found your mate. You're not alone anymore. You feel like coming home. Safe...

“What's your name?” you breathe out into the black void ready to consume you, not sure why you feel the need to ask this.

A huff of warm air moves over your face before a low hum vibrates in your ear. “Fenrir,” he growls quietly, and it's all you need to know as you inhale deeply, a soft smile grazing your lips.

Then, the darkness closes around you as if someone puts their hand over your eyes, whisking you away to sleep, or back to reality...

The next time you wake up, you are cuddled into your sheets, and the sunlight filters through your curtains. A new day, and you've never felt this refreshed before. Sitting up, you stretch with a soft squeak, rolling your neck, inhaling deeply. Your eyes move through the room, and the sight of the large dildo on your desk doesn't even confuse you anymore. It feels right to see it there. You stand up and walk past it on your way to the bathroom, your fingers sliding gently along its curved shaft.

In the midst of your morning routine, you hear the chime of your doorbell. Slipping into your fuzzy bathrobe, you hurry to the door, but when you reach it, whoever was there, is already gone. Though they left something behind. You bend down to pick up the small package, seeing your address on it and the usual postal stamps. Delivery? But you didn't expect anything.

You close the door and bring the unassuming box to your desk, putting it down next to the big toy on its base. Humming to yourself, mindlessly scratching at a spot on your neck, you open the package – and frown when you see its contents. Slowly you raise it out of its black satin bag. It's the dildo you ordered. The right size also. It's so small, barely as long as your hand, maybe the size of a soda can but much thinner, less than half the size of the toy that sits next to the opened box.

It's got the same design, the same ridges and nubs and the protruding bulbs of the knot, but it's so... tiny. You really ordered this? Apparently so, as you check the accompanying receipt and instructions. You can only half-remember that horny night when you browsed the site, and intimidated as you were, you chose the smallest size: Mini. You had no idea it would be this small. There's a picture of the different available sizes, and you realize the thing you actually fit into your cunt is the Large one. And just how large it is...

You shiver just thinking of having it inside you. But you also can't wait to put it back in. Your mind is hazy with memories of using it, of what really happened since you got it (and somehow you don't even wonder why you received two packages), and it's all a blur of ecstasy that makes you salivate and drip into the panties you put on.

Yet when you notice that the article has a name, you pause, blinking in confusion, your hand still scratching at what feels like a scabby wound on your neck. The name of the dildo feels familiar, like a distant memory, and it is –

As soon as you say it out loud, the big dark blue toy starts humming, its vibrations (even though you're not connected to it) sending shock waves through your whole body, activating all the right nerves. Your heart beats faster, your breaths turn into soft moans, and your cunt clenches hungrily around nothing.

“Fenrir.”

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

#x reader #x reader smut #monsterfucker #monster x reader #werewolf smut #original fiction #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #monster au #supernatural smut #joel miller smut #simon ghost riley smut #arthur morgan smut #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #f!reader #fem reader #terato #teratophillia

933 notes · View notes