#character: reader insert

[v1x3n]

innocent virgin reader this, sweet virgin reader that

how about virgin reader whos far from innocent, you probably know more about sex than toji - just no hands on experience. you are the filthiest person on earth!! you have a sex drive that flys off the charts, constantly rubbing at your poor hole, pinching your clit and nipples.

you're also far from sweet, you're crude and cruel. that's why toji was so drawn to you. when he discovered you were a virgin, he couldn't believe it honestly. he didn't ask any questions, didn't care. he just knew he had to have you.

he expected you to be shy during your first time, but no, you were a filthy fucking mess.

sprawled out beneath him, his tip entering your tight cunt. you moan loud, meeting his eyes. toji groaned out, a strained, growl. your eyes lock with his, direct eye contact as he shoves his dick further into you. deep breaths swarm the sticky room.

the pace picks up, you had complained it wasn't fast enough so fuck, he would show you. you're gripping tight onto the bedsheets, spurting everywhere as drool runs out from your lips. he thrusts into you with a fury, stretching your virgin hole in a harsh way. but you loved it. you open your mouth and he spits into it. you swallow instantly, he didn't even need to tell you. toji frees a hand and lowers himself onto you, trapping you with his body and his heat. your body smushed by his larger one, his free hand runs a thumb over your cheek.

you grin at him. "that all you got?" you challenge, smirk plastered over your satified expression. and just as those wods utter out, a slap is brought to your cheek. well ,fuck.

you cum right there, cream ringing around his dick as you clench like a fist around him. he groans out and his breath stutters. hips copying his lungs and stuttering too.

toji lets out a hot load, deep inside of you. his body twitching and shaking as if it was his first time. he had expected you to be the same, fucked out, passed out possibly, from the intense orgasm you just had. but no, you were smiling sweetly at him, "round two?"

[scftangl]

Me, getting distracted for a moment in just in smut and now I don't know what position they are in:

[cloudedcreams]

(nsfw) thinking of a yandere who is entranced by the idea of you taking his virginity from him.

he saved it all for you, he said. he told you that he’d forced away all his unclean thoughts, put himself in the shoes of the pure in hopes that it’ll unleash such passion, some emotion and such longing between the intimate moment he wishes to share with you.

he groans against your lips, slightly grinding his hips as he does so. he leaves you wet, open mouthed kisses and he trails them from your cheek to your neck, sucking at the skin as he fondles your chest.

“you’ve got such pretty nips.” he pants, before swirling his tongue around them, sucking them as he used his hands to undress the two of you. he bucked his hips against you the moment the two of you were unclothed, moans pouring from his lips until the moment he sheathed himself inside of you.

he thrust himself inside of you wildly, grabbing your hips with sweaty palms as he lightly moved them to match his rhythm. you tangled your fingers through your haired and he breathed your name out, shaking as he did so.

“ohhh fuck yeah baby. s-say my name like that again, p-please fucking… mmh” he pleads. he places another kiss against your lips, hurried and passionate, messy with the ecstasy that he’s feeling, and even after he’s released himself inside of you with desperate and crying whimpers of your name, he keeps his length inside of you, humming against your ear as he whispers praises on repeat.

[bananastarlo]

Warning: NSFW!

Thinking about nerdy yandere who is more than willing to help you study for your next exam. You invite him over since you think he’ll be easy to take advantage of. After all, his shy demeanor and nerdy interests don’t faze you at all.

What you don’t expect is how easily his patience snaps.

“Please, try to at least follow what I’m saying — are you even listening?”

Now he’s inside of you, trying to at least get you to do something right.

“That’s wrong,” he grunts, slowing his pace and abandoning your pussy as you whimper and tremble in need. “Come on, baby, just like I taught you.”

You grind yourself against him, mind foggy from how many times he’s denied your orgasm when you didn’t know the answer to his stupid questions.

As you stutter out the answer he’s waiting for, he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue into your throat and igniting a burning ache in your tummy, the pool of arousal beneath you only growing.

And without warning, you feel his throbbing dick pumping back into you, filling you up perfectly as he begins to mercilessly pound into you. His sweaty body slaps against your own, combined with his loud moans, filling the room with the lewdest and most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“Tell me what you need. Tell me you need me, that you won’t ever need another man because I can make you feel so good. Ugh, f-fuck!”

His voice cracks as his eyes roll back, forehead glistening with sweat. He feels your cunt clench around him as you come undone under him, body shivering, waiting for him to cum too.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeling his own orgasm approaching at the sight of you completely disheveled.

You’re already overstimulated by the time he thrusts deep inside of you for the last time.

You can’t think straight anymore, but he makes sure to push his thick, heavy load inside you. When he finally pulls out and you’re still dripping, he drops to his knees in front of you, licking and cleaning up the mess you two made. You gasp. Looking down, seeing him like this, gazing up at you with that hunger in his eyes, makes you mewl in feverish delight.

“Look at you… being so obedient after all. You liked that, hm?”

All you can do is lazily nod, earning a cocky grin.

“Next time I visit,” he breathes against your skin, “you better have all the answers ready — so I can make you feel even better, yeah?”

[wonubby]

katsuki bakugo keeps his relationship a secret, not ‘cause he’s embarrassed or anything. nah, he actually thinks his girl is the best thing to ever exist, straight-up worships the ground she walks on. but sneaking around? now that’s the fun part. the stolen kisses in empty classrooms, the quick but intense eye contact when they’re with their friends, the casual little touches, a high five that lasts too long, a sneaky hand squeeze just ‘cause he can.

but when everyone finally finds out? yeah, he’s done pretending. bakugo makes it so obvious. he’s always got flowers for her, keeps her fave snacks on him at all times, kisses her slow and soft before every challenge, promising he’ll come back in one piece. ‘cause now that the world knows? He wants them to get one thing straight - she’s his, and he’s hers, and he’s never letting anyone forget it.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: break-up, angst, hung-up yandere, anger issues, insecurity, threats to regrets

♡ GN reader

Thinking about pro-athlete ex-boyfriend… 

You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldn’t stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the ground—not to mention your relationship—all to reach his goals.

He’d been so mean—meaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldn’t do this anymore—said it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. He’d made it about you not wanting a pipe-dreaming wannabe sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you don’t even want to see him succeed. 

He’d been so loud and so ugly you’d been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didn’t even dare tell anyone—feeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.

And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. He’d sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which you’d replied to in short, though mostly ignored. You’d thought about blocking him at one point, but you didn’t want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.

But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that. 

Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how he’s finally getting all those long hours spent training back in full—but somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you don’t bother.

He’s got other people in his life cheering him on now—he doesn’t need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.

Which is why it’s surprising when you get the dinner invitation. 

And following the initial surprise, you don’t really know what to expect of it either. But you end up accepting—some part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.

This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.

“Will you marry me?”

Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fall—that type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, you’re speechless.

Or no, you just don’t know where to begin.

“What are you doing?” you end up accusing—a little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, you’re glad your table’s in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit. 

“I–we broke up a year ago and haven’t seen each other since—and you’re—” Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. It’s an outrageous ring. “Asking me to marry you?”

He makes no move to withdraw the offer—keeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. “You said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thought—”

“Yeah. It means that I still worry about you,” you say. “It doesn't mean–”

“I fought my way up. I’m finally at the top,” he cuts you off in earnest. “I’m the best, and the world finally knows it now–”

“I don't care about any of that,” you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. “I'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wanted…”

You just wanted the two of you to be like other couples—together and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.

“Never mind…” you end up saying. “I think I should go.”

You’re about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.

“I don't think you understand,” he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. “It’s either this ring or I bury you in rumors that won’t leave you a moment’s worth of peace.” 

You go stiff while looking back at him.

Did he just… did he just threaten you?

You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.

Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–I’m just—” he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.

He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a sound—close to a sob.

“I’m just a mess without you.”

Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just can’t stop feeling sorry for him.

You sigh. “No, you’re not. You just…” Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. “You just lose your head a little sometimes, that’s all.” 

He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.

He really is a mess.

“But I know you…” you try smiling. “You were always destined for greatness.”

He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, “Yeah, well…”

He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.

“If I'm so great, why wouldn’t you stay?”

He sounds as if he’s been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.

“Because," you start, even though your throat’s tight and you’re fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasn’t changed.

You didn’t come here to get back together. 

"You want to go places, I just can’t follow.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Karasu, Shido ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[awriterinthenight]

a moment of silence for all the fics that were masterpieces but you'll never find them again

[cowboybeepboop]

Late Night

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, gentle and romantic

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Your friendly neighbor Clark Kent comes to your door one evening, allowing for the two of you to finally grow your relationship.

Warnings: This is not proofread what so ever, gentle/sort of shy Clark, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Idk rn but I genuinely can't wait for David Corenswet to be Superman (Henry Cavill is so hot tho...). I’m already imagining how perfect he's gonna be as Clark Kent. As always, send me any requests you have and I hope you enjoy!

For months now, you had been quietly pining for the man who lived across the hall from me in our unassuming apartment building. His name was Clark Kent, and there was something about him that was utterly endearing. It wasn't just his chiseled jawline or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but the kindness he exuded, the way he always had a helping hand ready for anyone in need. 

You had become something like friends, sharing the occasional awkward small talk as we passed by with our shopping bags or recyclables. You had seen him in various stages of undress, coming back from his midnight runs, his superhero-like physique hidden under loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants. 

Something that had fueled your evening pleasure sessions, everytime your eyes fell closed you could remember the image of his hardened abs, his huge and muscular arms. 

On a warm summer evening, there was a knock at your door. It was Clark, the guy from across the hall. He stood there sheepishly, his hand running through his black hair. 

He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned and messy. He held a bottle of wine in one hand. "Hey", he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was wondering if I could get a favor?"

“Sure what’s up?” you give him a small smile, your eyes fall on his exposed chest before quickly flicking back to his face. His heart rate increased as he realized that you could see through the thin fabric of his shirt the toned muscles of his chest covered in a light layer of hair.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, holding up the bottle of wine. "I, umm, I was wondering if I could borrow your corkscrew. I lost mine."

“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” you move to the side, allowing him to come in. Your mind clouding with desire as he towers over you, his cologne filling your senses. 

He steps into your apartment, the tight space meaning his body brushes against yours slightly as he passes. The contact between you both is brief, but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine as he enters.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you realize your own appearance, wearing just a button down top that is unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage and your underwear. You awkwardly lead him to the kitchen, arm subconsciously moving to cover your breasts as you turn around, handing him the corkscrew. 

"Uh, thanks." He says as he takes the corkscrew from you. Even with your arm draped over yourself, he can't help but notice the glimpse of exposed skin, his eyes lingering before he catches himself and averts his gaze, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He starts to open up the bottle, the action allowing him to look away from your figure for a moment and compose himself, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to concentrate. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over his. “Oh yeah this thing is weird, you kinda have to do it a particular way.” you murmur, taking the bottle from him as you fumble with the screw. 

He bites his lip as your fingers brush over his, his stomach swirling at the touch of your hand. He watches as you take the bottle from him, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you try to open the bottle.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice low and a bit shaky. His eyes wander down, his gaze drawn to the way your top fits, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. 

“Mhm,” you reply as you pull the cork out, a small splash of wine staining your collar. You bite down on your lip while setting the bottle down, fingers rubbing the fabric. His eyes widen slightly as he watches the droplet of wine slide down your collar, the stains on the fabric making it even more translucent. 

Clark swallows hard, his mind wandering to inappropriate and ungentlemanly thoughts. He clears his throat, trying to look away, but he can't help but notice the way your fingers are now rubbing at the fabric, the motion only drawing his attention further to your chest.

You glance over him, hand falling from your shirt as you give him a soft grin, noticing the way his gaze lingers. 

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his cheeks flushed. He realizes he's been caught staring, his eyes having been fixated on the way your hand moves over the fabric of your shirt, the motion stirring something deep within him.

"I, umm..." he stutters, his words failing him as he feels his throat dry up. He swallows slowly, forcing himself to focus on something else. "Thanks, for helping me open the bottle," he manages to say.  He shifts on his feet, trying to discreetly adjust himself as he feels his jeans becoming a bit tighter.

“Of course, do you want to share the bottle? Or do you have someone waiting for you?” you move slightly closer to him. 

His heart quickens as you come closer, his mouth going dry as your proximity makes it all that much more difficult to concentrate. He glances down at the bottle sitting on the counter, his mind racing with desire and indecision.

"No," he says, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual. "There's no one waiting for me." He looks back up at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of nervousness and something more forbidden. "I'd like to share the bottle with you."

“Perfect.” You smile, stepping closer as you reach for the cabinet behind him, your chest pressing into his ever so slightly. You open the door, reaching for two glasses ​​his breath hitches as he feels your body press against him, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through him. 

Your chest rubs against his, and he can feel the weight and softness of you against his body. The proximity is driving him mad, his mind clouded by primal desires he's trying to keep in check.

He bites his lip, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the counter, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them again, his gaze fixed on your every move.

You step back, with the glasses in hand. “We could watch a movie?” you prompt as you pour some wine into the cups, silently enjoying the way he reacted to your touch. 

He nods, his mind still racing as he tries to calm his racing thoughts and the growing hardness in his pants. "Yeah, a movie sounds good," he mutters, his voice coming out a bit more hoarse than he'd liked.

As you pour the wine, his eyes follow your every move, the way your fingers grip the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glasses. It's all too tantalizing for him. "What do you feel like watching?" He asks, trying to keep his voice level and casual.

“How about you choose?” you hand him a glass, taking yours in hand along with the bottle as you walk into the living room. Taking a seat down on the couch you sip on the wine, your eyes follow his every move, drinking in his muscular form. 

He tries to stay composed, forcing himself to look away and focus on the task at hand. Clark walks over to the DVD collection and scans the titles, his mind unfocused and his thoughts still lingering on you. After a moment of browsing, he picks a movie at random, inserting it into the player.

"All set." He says, returning to the couch and taking a seat beside you. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to prevent it from riding up too much while taking another sip of your drink. 

“Great.” you smile, sucking your lip between your teeth as you admire his side profile. He can't help but notice the way you fidget with your shirt, the action drawing his mind to places he shouldn't be going at the moment. 

He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his gaze keeping wandering over to you, admiring your features and the way the fabric clings to your body. Clark takes a long sip from his glass, the alcohol doing little to calm his racing thoughts and desires. He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself as his jeans grow even tighter.

“Is everything alright?” you notice his movements and set your cup on the coffee table, scooting slightly closer to him. His eyes widen slightly as you move closer, the proximity sending a fresh wave of desire through him. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he responds, his voice a little hoarse. "Everything's fine, just...adjusting." He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on your figure, his eyes tracing over the curves where your shirt clings to you, the way your position inadvertently exposes more skin.

“Clark?” your knee brushes against his thigh as you scoot closer. He stiffens as your knee brushes against him, the casual touch sending a jolt through him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain his composure.

When he hears his name, the way you say it, so soft and gentle, almost a whisper, it sends a shiver down his spine. He looks over at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with desire. "Yeah?" He manages to respond, his voice a bit shaky.

“Are you.. seeing anyone?” you chew on your cheek as you search his eyes. At your question, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crosses his face. He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity.

"No," he says finally, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swallows, his nerves getting the better of him as he wonders where this conversation is going. He can't help but feel a flicker of hope and anxiety at the same time.

Your eyes light up as you press a hand to his thigh, “Then… well I hope i’m not misreading the situation,” you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's unexpected, but oh so welcome. 

His eyes widen for a brief moment, before closing as he melts into the kiss. Every cell in his body seems to come alive, the taste of your lips on his sending him into a dizzying spiral of emotions.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his touch gentle as he leans into the kiss, deepening it as he loses himself in the moment. His tongue brushes over your bottom lip as he presses his chest against yours, pushing your back into the plush fabric of your couch. 

Your bodies meld together, your back sinking into the cushion as he bears down on you. His tongue teases your lip, requesting entry which you give him without hesitation.

His heart races as he feels the soft give of your body against his chest, the heat and pressure of your bodies mingling together.

His hand runs over your side, his touch gentle but firm as it moves over the curves of your body, his hand sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his. You lean back, gasping for air as his fingers explore your body. 

He takes your gasp as an opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he nips and kisses his way down your neck.

His hand moves under your shirt, slowly, his fingertips dancing across your bare skin, mapping out each contour and dip of your body. He groans softly against your throat as he feels your warm, supple flesh under his fingers. You feel so good against him, it's almost overwhelming.

“Clark..” you gasp his name as he unbuttons your shirt swiftly. He loves the way you say his name, the sound of it coming from your lips making his own name sound like a prayer.

He unfastens the buttons of your shirt, revealing more and more of your body to his hungry eyes. He peels back the fabric, his hands roaming over your now-exposed skin, his fingers tracing over your stomach and up to your chest.

He presses his mouth to your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, tasting your scent, committing it to memory. “Clark..” you moan his name again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses down your chest, hands landing on your breasts. 

His name slips from your lips again, the sound like a sweet melody in his ears. He can feel the pressure of your fingers on his shoulders, the touch driving his desire even higher.

His mouth travels down your chest, his kisses feather light and seductive as he moves over your breasts. His hands follow his mouth, palms cupping your breasts as he starts to massage the soft flesh.

He moans against your skin, his touch almost reverent. His body thrums with an aching need, the desire to be closer to you nearly overwhelming as he captures your lips in another hungry kiss. He cups your breasts in his hands, his fingers kneading the supple flesh as they press into your skin. His touch is soft but firm, his hands large enough to cover them completely

Clark pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes locked with yours. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can feel your heart racing beneath his palms as he gently caresses your breasts. "Are you sure about this?" He whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want to rush you." His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

You smile up at him, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. The sincerity in your tone sends a thrill through him, confirming that this is what you both want.

He nods, his expression serious as he leans back down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. He savors the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, cradling it as he deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

As the kiss lingers, he slowly starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, taking his time to reveal each new inch of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. You melt into him, your own hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the fabric of your shirt falls away.

The moment your skin is fully exposed, the air in the room seems to crackle with tension. He leans down to press a line of soft, wet kisses along your collarbone, feeling your body shiver beneath his touch. He takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your cheeks flush with pleasure as he says the words, his eyes devouring your exposed flesh. He takes his time, kissing and caressing every inch of your body, his hands moving in a slow, tantalizing dance that leaves you trembling with need. Each touch is a promise of what's to come, each kiss a declaration of his desire for you.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft whispers of your names on each other's lips. The anticipation is almost unbearable, but you both know that the slow burn of this moment is only making the fire between you grow hotter.

Clark finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation, your hands tightening in his hair. He teases and worships each peak, his tongue swirling and flicking, drawing out your moans of pleasure.

As you lay there, the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the softness of the couch beneath you, and the gentle pressure of his body above, you can't help but feel that this is exactly where you're meant to be. With each tender kiss and caress, he's claiming you, and you're willingly giving yourself to him.

The movie on the TV becomes background noise as the only thing that matters is the connection growing stronger between you both. His kisses trail down your stomach, his hands skimming over your hips to the waistband of your underwear.

He kisses the skin just above the waistband, the heat of his breath making you squirm. "I want to make this perfect for you," he murmurs, his eyes looking up at you for approval. You nod, unable to form words as your breath catches in your throat.

He takes his time, pulling down your underwear in one smooth motion, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he looks at you, but he keeps his touches feather-light, his mouth hovering just above your skin without making contact.

Clark takes a deep breath, savoring the moment as he gazes down at your exposed body. He gently kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs, moving closer to the apex of your legs. His eyes are filled with a fiery hunger that makes your heart race even faster. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, feeling you tense up at the contact. 

Then, with a gentle caress, he parts your legs wider, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his eyes, and it only fuels the fire burning within you. With a soft sigh, he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tracing the seam of your folds with the lightest touch. You moan, your body trembling as he starts to explore you, taking his time to learn every curve and sensitive spot. 

Each touch is a declaration of his intention to worship you, to take things slow and savor every second of this shared intimacy. His fingers join his mouth, gently teasing and exploring, bringing you closer to the edge with every stroke. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and soft whimpers, the only soundtrack to this passionate symphony of desire.

Clark continues his gentle exploration, his tongue circling your clit with a patience that borders on agonizing. He's not in a hurry; he wants to savor every moment of this, to make sure you feel loved and desired. His fingers slide into your wetness, curling gently as he begins to stroke you internally, matching the rhythm of his tongue. 

You can't help but whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensations build within you. He's so attentive, so in tune with your body's responses that you feel like you're floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. Each kiss, each caress is a testament to the connection growing between you, and you know that this is just the beginning of a night that will change everything.

Clark's eyes never leave yours as he shifts his position, aligning his body with yours. His hand moves to guide himself, and with a gentle nod from you, he begins to press into you. His movements are slow and deliberate, his expression one of intense concentration as he tries to read your every reaction. You can feel the tip of him pushing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making you squirm.

As he enters you, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to the building passion. He's so big, so thick, but he's so gentle that it's almost a surprise when he's fully sheathed inside you. You gasp, your eyes flying open, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled by him.

He waits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he sees none, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that makes your toes curl. Each thrust is met with a soft moan from your lips, his name slipping from your mouth like a prayer as he fills you completely.

The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if your bodies are made for this, as if every inch of him is meant to be connected to every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to grip his firm ass as he moves within you.

The room seems to spin around you, the only constant is the feeling of him, the sound of your hearts beating in sync. He kisses you again, his movements becoming more urgent as the passion takes over. You can feel him thickening, growing even more inside you, and you know that he's getting closer to the edge.

You whisper for him to go faster, to give you more, and he responds eagerly, his strokes deepening and quickening. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction between you building until it's almost unbearable. You're both so close, the tension coiled tight in your stomachs, ready to snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, it does. You cry out, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows shortly after, his own release shaking his body as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

For a moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined, your hearts racing. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is pure satisfaction, a mirror to what's reflected in his own gaze. He leans down to kiss you gently, a soft promise of more to come.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Been Keeping It Down

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, friends to lovers, light fluff, light angst, lotta smut (fingering, p in v, cockwarming), humor, love confessions

Summary/Warnings: After Dean gets hit with a curse, he starts avoiding you. Sam won't tell you what's wrong, and you love him almost as much as you miss him.

Almost as much as he might love you.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! I love thinking a fic will be 5k and then. it's not.

Word Count: 8.3k

“Why’d you lock him in the car?”

“Uh,” Sam scratches the back of his neck, letting out a long, slow breath. “I didn’t. He sorta locked himself in there.”

Your nose wrinkles, and you lean a little further down, trying to get a better look at Dean.

He’s sprawled out on the back bench, knocked out and drooling onto the seat. 

He looks adorable.

His hair is mussed, his eyes keep fluttering slightly, and if you climbed over him he’d probably be just as strong and warm as when he yanks you into his chest, making sure you don’t stumble or trip during a hunt. 

You can’t crawl over him while he’s asleep. You’re not sure if he’d want you to, or if you’d just get shoved off his body with a grunt and glower. Ruining everything, and bombing the careful fantasy you’ve built where maybe Dean flirts with you a little more than other girls, and maybe he gets so pissed at you because he cares, and there’s a small, thin chance that he likes catching you just as much as you like falling into him.

And you’re never going to tell him you do it on purpose. That it’s dumb, and reckless, and pathetic, but sometimes you’ll be a little less cautious, just so Dean will grab you. So his arms will wrap around your stomach, he’ll glare at you with enough venom to make your skin hot, and you can smile up at him like nothing’s wrong. It couldn’t be, as long as Dean was holding you.

But something is certainly wrong right now.

“And he let you drive?”

Sam shrugs awkwardly. “He’s sick.

You give him a flat look. “I’ve seen Dean drive when he was actively bleeding out.”

“From his stomach.”

“So?”

“It’s- He could still drive.” Sam’s voice is lame, as if he doesn’t even believe what he’s saying. “This was a fever. He’s not lucid.”

“Sam.” There’s panic rising in your chest, hot and tight and suffocating, but you force your voice to remain flat. “If he’s not lucid, we need to take him to a hospital-“

“No! I-“ Sam’s eyes widen, darting between you and Dean at a frantic pace. “It’s- He’s fine! It’s a magic fever.”

“A magic fever-“

“Witches. He hates them.”

“I know that-“

“He just needs to sleep it off,” Sam’s voice is suddenly firm and determined, and something is very wrong. “It’ll be easier if we don’t bother him.”

“But-“

“Can you got get some ice from town?”

You frown. “We have ice.”

“Right.” Sam glances back to Dean. “What don’t we have?”

“I don’t know, I don’t do audits while you guys are gone-“

“Do we have soda?”

“I don’t know-“

“Pie?”

You let out a long, slow breath, and Sam is very close to being punched in the face. “We have pie. We always have pie. Sam, what’s going on-“

“I just- I need to get Dean out of the car. And I-“ Sam swallows, giving you an apologetic look. “I’m not supposed to let you help.”

Your mouth falls open, something tearing up your chest that’s made of Dean doesn’t want your help, he knows how useless you really are and he can’t even imagine you carrying him to bed.

Sam must see the shatter of your heart, just a layer under your face, because he shakes his head, and his words are quick.

“No it’s- it’s not like that-“

“I’m fine.” You mumble, drawing yourself to stand tall, keeping your gaze firmly fixed away from Dean. “You don’t have to-“

“He might be contagious.”

You give him a dry look. “You’re still going to touch him, though.”

“I was in the car with him.” Sam mutters, not fully meeting your gaze. “I’m already exposed. And there are some, uh- Weird side effects. To the curse.”

“Weird? Weird like-“ You cut yourself off at Sam’s apologetic expression, letting out another heavy sigh. “You can’t tell me.”

“He just- You know Dean. It’s a weird curse, and doesn’t want you to have to deal with it-“

“I wouldn’t mind.” You mumble, frowning down at your hands, and you can feel Sam’s look of pity.

“I told him that, he… Didn’t seem to care.”

You glance up, and your voice has to remain neutral. You’re almost certain Sam knows—he must, he’s seen you trail after Dean like a shadow on every case, laugh at all his stupid jokes, run to him whenever he so much as stubs his toe, and glare at him every time he gets hit on and basks in it because you love him too much to hate him for it, and that makes your skin blister—but that doesn’t mean you have to admit it.

It doesn’t matter if you admit it. 

Even if Dean flirts with you, it’s still just flirting. He flirts with everyone. And he’s never really shown that he’d want anything more with you. Maybe just skin on skin in the dark, but not his lips on your brow in the morning, and you head resting on his chest in the dead of night. 

Not what you’d need. What you’ve needed, from the moment he appeared over you on the street, both of you drenched in the blood of a decapitated vamp, Dean offering you a hand that once you took, you never wanted to release. 

But Sam knows that too. He was there when Dean asked you to stick with them, and you had an expression like the Sun had dropped at your feet and asked you to orbit around it forever. Sam’s noticed that you never even try to sleep around, and that whenever someone hits on you at a bar you never take it past smiles and words. 

You think Sam believes you have more dignity than you actually do, though. That if Dean offered you just one night, you wouldn’t take it in a heartbeat. That you’d keep coming back like an addict, until Dean decided he was done giving you what you crave. Sam thinks you wouldn’t break yourself for Dean. 

It’s sweet, that he thinks that highly of you.

That doesn’t make him right.

“Can you-“ You pause, trying to find the right thing to say, that will just give you a chance to help. “If there’s anything-“

“I’m gonna talk to him. He’s being- You know.”

Sam glances back to Dean, and you do know. Dean’s never been good at asking for help. 

He’s still fully knocked out and snoring so loud you can hear it through the windows. 

Still adorable.

And when he’s finally up, and feeling better, you’re going to shove his stupid, broad chest and yell at him that no magical side-effect could ever make you not want to help.

For now, you’re going to take one of the spare cars and drive in circles, until the ache in your chest hurts just a little less. And when Dean calls for you, you’ll be there.

You’ll always be there.

But he doesn’t call for you.

The day passes and turns into night, and the night turns into another day, and then suddenly it’s all blurring together and it’s been a week. And you haven’t spoken to Dean once.

You only know he’s in the bunker because you can see the light from under his door, and food is vanishing that Sam would never touch. When you wake up there’s enough coffee left over for you to have a cup, just like every morning, but usually Dean is leaning against the counter and waiting for you to join him. Now it’s just the mug out and the pot half-full. Same as how books keep going missing from the library before reappearing the next day, but Dean never once even wanders into the room. The Impala is gone for hours, and then you’ll check the garage again and it’s back. Dinner gets made, but you never see it. Dean doesn’t appear over your shoulder in the library and call you to dinner, you just wander into the kitchen and find it made.

“He’s avoiding me.”

Sam shakes his head, not looking up from his laptop. “No, he’s not.”

“I haven’t seen him once-“

“He’s still sick.”

“Sam-“

Sam says your name back, and when he looks up, there’s a heavy exhaustion in his gaze. “I’m working on it. He’ll be fine, the fever broke, but Dean- I can’t tell you.”

“Why.” Your voice is desperate, but the ache in your chest has only grown. You miss him. Even ignoring the in love with him thing, Dean’s your best friend. You miss talking to him while he cooks, and bothering him with the books you’ve read, and trying to see who can fit the most marshmallows in their mouth. 

But he’s avoiding you. Even if Sam won’t say it, you know he is. You’ve tried to catch him. You get up an hour earlier, but he’s already gone. You try and stay up for a whole day just to see him—to make sure he’s okay, and that he didn’t die and Sam just hasn’t figured out how to tell you—but you pass out around 4am and wake up with a blanket over your body, and another three books gone. The next time the Impala is gone you sit in the garage all day, leave once to go to the bathroom, and come back to it returned and Dean nowhere in sight.

You don’t understand why.

“I-“ Sam exhales, shaking his head again. “I wish I could tell you. But that- You know I trust you. Dean trusts you. But explaining it- I’d be violating Dean’s trust. I’m sorry.”

He looks it. Sam’s expression is tired, and you can hear the strain in his voice, but it doesn’t make anything hurt less. 

Dean’s avoiding you.

And you just want to see him. To know what’s wrong, so you can tell him you don’t care about the curse.

That evening, you try to camp the kitchen. Dinner never comes out that night, and around eight, Sam wanders in and asks if you can just order.

“No.” You mutter, sitting cross-legged on the counter, and Sam sighs.

“I’m hungry,” he says your name with a pleading tone. “I know you’re hungry too. And I’m going to order for myself, so just text me if you want anything and I’ll pick it up while I’m out-“

“I don’t want anything.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic look, and you want to curl into yourself and hide. It can’t be that obvious. Even if Sam knows, there’s no way he knows-

“If you’re waiting for him, he’s not going to come out.”

You scowl, shooting Sam a glare. “So he is avoiding me.”

Sam sighs your name. “I- Yeah. He is.”

“Why-“

“I can’t-“

“Tell me.” You finish for him, rubbing at your face as you continue, until it’s raw enough to hurt a little. “Yeah, I got it. Is he-“ You have to swallow on a lump in your throat. “Is he okay?”

“He will be.” Sam mutters. “I- I think I’ve almost got it.”

“Can I help?”

Sam shakes his head, and you swallow, leaning down until your back is flat on the table.

“Okay.”

“Do you, uh- Want anything?”

You want to help. To understand. 

Dean.

You want Dean.

“No.”

There’s a silence for a second, and you’re convinced Sam is gone, right up until he mutters your name. His voice is impossibly soft.

It just makes this hurt more. 

“He’s in his room. And he knows you’re in here. He’s not going to come out.” Sam sighs. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

You frown at the ceiling, trying to work out what that means, but by the time you sit up Sam is gone. 

Dean’s in his room. And he’s not going to come out. And it does not take a few hours to pick up dinner, but Sam will be gone anyway, and- 

Oh. 

Okay.

You slide off the counter, keeping your steps soft as you walk down the hall, and stop in front of Dean’s room.

“Dean?” You knock, and he’s not a subtle as he thinks he is. 

The noise from the TV turns off. 

“Dean,” You knock again, still to no answer. “I know you’re in there.”

Nothing. 

“Dean Winchester, if you don’t open the door, I’m going to break it in-“

“Don’t.”

His voice is barely a grunt. But it’s the first time you heard it in a fucking week, and a sob rises to your throat. 

He’s alive. He can talk, and he’s been avoiding you, but he’s okay. 

“Fuck, Dean, are you-“

“Don’t come in here.” His voice is rising slightly, and something starts to prickle over your skin. 

It’s the same feeling you get on a hunt, when something is just a little off. 

A warning.

“Dean-“

“Please.” There’s a desperation in his voice, and it just makes the prickle grow into a stinging itch. “Don’t.”

“Don’t-“ You swallow. “Don’t what?”

You can hear his deep breath through the door. “Come inside.”

“De-“

“Just- If you need something, go ask Sammy-“

“I don’t need anything, Dean.” I just need you. “I want to talk.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “We’re talking right now.”

“This doesn’t count, I want to see you-“

“No.”

“Dean-“

“I’m not dying,” Dean snaps your name. “You don’t need to help.”

There’s a harsh tone to his voice that you’ve rarely heard in your direction. The tone he uses on hunts and when he and Sam are fighting. His pissed tone.

He’s serious.

But it’s only making the itch feel like a burn. You need to see him. Just for one second, so you know he’s not lying, and he has to look you in the eyes and admit that he’s been avoiding you. He doesn’t get to be pissed when he’s been dodging you. That’s not how this fucking works.

You want to help, still.

But Dean does not get to be angry about that.

“I’m going to open the door.”

Dean hisses your name. “I’m tellin’ you, don’t-“

“I won’t if you give me a reason-“

“I don’t want you to see me.”

You freeze, your hand hovering up to push open the door, and your heart might have frozen and dropped into your stomach. 

He didn’t want you. Doesn’t want you. Not just your help, but to see you at all. He doesn’t want you, and your heart is fracturing in strange places you didn’t know it could break—but you should have, only Dean has ever been able to touch them—and Dean doesn’t want you-

“Fuck, are you- Son of a bitch-“ 

There’s a shuffling and banging sound from the other side of the door, and the world is blurry. It might have something to do with the soreness in your throat and the choked sound you couldn’t stop from escaping. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart-“

“I’m not.” You take a step back from the door, your hand falling back to your side. “I- Sam’s out, if you need something, call him.”

“I know, it’s-“ He sounds closer than before. “It’s complicated, but I’m not pissed at you-“

“So why are you avoiding me.”

The silence is tight. Long. You can hear Dean’s heavy breathing through the door, and your fingers are straining to touch him, to make it better, but he doesn’t want you.

“I’m not crying, Dean.” Your voice has to be neutral. He already has your heart resting somewhere stronger than just the palm of his hand, he doesn’t get to have every other piece of you too. Not when he’d only toss it right back. “I know you got cursed, and I know you don’t want my help, but you don’t need to be- I would help. I’d always help. You’re my friend-“

There’s a dry, slightly muffled chuckle through the door. “Friend, huh.”

“Yeah, I am.” You raise your chin—he can’t see it, but it makes you feel better—and narrow your eyes at the door. “And I know you’re avoiding me, so don't try to deny it-“

“Can’t.”

You blink. “What?”

“Can’t deny it.” He grunts. “I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I- Oh.” The world is getting blurry again. He doesn’t get to have the rest of you. “Why?”

Dean groans, and you flinch as a heavy thud sounds from his room. “Fuck.”

“Dean-“

“Don’t ask me that.” He grunts, his voice right on the other side of the door. “Please.”

“I- Why?”

“Goddamnit, just stop asking me questions-“

“Dean, I need to know-“

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do-“

“Trust me,” he mutters your name. “You don’t.”

You scowl at the door. 

He doesn’t get to do this. No matter what type of righteous shit he’s got in his head, no matter what this curse is, Dean doesn’t get to just say he’s avoiding you, then not say why. Doesn’t get to tell you what to do when he won’t look at you. 

Doesn’t get to have all of you if he doesn’t really want it.

“Dean Winchester.” You move your hand back to the door, and you could swear you hear him stiffen. “You do not get to tell me what I need.”

He chuckles again, and you can hear it this time. The pain in the sound. “Then you’re just gonna have to trust me on this one-“

“I can’t trust you.” You cut him off with a snap. “Not when you won’t answer my questions. You can even lie, you just have to be convincing-“

“I- Fuck- I can’t!”

Dean’s voice has risen to a shout, and you pause. He sounds wounded. Like a distressed animal.

“I can’t goddamn lie.” He grunts, his voice lowered to something heavy. “The witch truth-roofied me, and I can’t say a lie.”

You frown. “Then why the fuck have you been avoiding me?”

“I- Shit,” he groans again. “There are some questions I don’t want you asking me. Safer for all of us.”

“Safer for you to ignore me-“

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“We haven’t spoken since you got back-“

“Cause I’ve been avoiding you-

“Which is better?” 

He pauses, his voice falling to a mumble. “No.”

You let out a soft, insane sounding laugh. You’re going to strangle him, or hug him, or shove him off a cliff before diving after him. He’s not stupid, but he can be such a fucking idiot.

“What were you planning on doing, when the curse was broken?” You lean against the door, keeping your voice dry. “Just popping up and acting like nothing ever happened?”

“Uh-“ Dean coughs. “Yeah? Are you pissed at me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh-“

“But.” You hum, watching the door as if you might be able to see Dean through it. “I’ll be less pissed if you tell me why.”

You can feel his glare. “I told you why, truth curse-“

“That’s a stupid reason. I know everything about you.”

There’s the chuckle again. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do-“

“I told you to trust me-“

“And I told you I can’t.” You take a slow, stuttering breath. “Please, Dean, we’ll be fine if you just tell me the truth-“

“No.”

“Dean-“

“You don’t want to know the truth-“

“I don’t even know that you’re actually cursed with that!” Your voice is rising, but he’s such an idiot, and you love him, and most of what you can feel is hot. Worry or anger or stress or just want. You want to see him, to help him, to punch him in the face and trust him. But you can’t. “For all I know, you’re lying to me right now-“

Your words are cut off with a yelp as the door swings open, and you stumble a step forward, right into-

Dean.

He’s catching you. Keeping your upright by pressing you right to his chest, his hands framing your face and his eyes boring right into yours. 

And he looks tired—bags under his eyes and his hair a little messy from lack of care—but he’s still Dean. Still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, strong and hot around you, a growl in his voice that you can feel vibrate through his chest as he speaks. 

“Ask me something.” 

You blink at him. “You said-“

“Not that. Anything else.”

“I-“ You swallow, unable to break his gaze. “Can you tell me something embarrassing?”

His jaw twitches, but you get a firm nod. “I used to hide hentai mags in Sam’s bag, so chicks wouldn’t see them and think they were mine. One time I ate a pie off a girl’s stomach, and I enjoyed the pie more than the sex. I tried one of Sam’s running smoothies and it wasn’t dogshit, but then I spent twenty hours of the toilet after. Body wasn’t ready for it, I guess. Uh- One time I got turned on by holding a book-“

“A book?” You frown at him. “What book?”

“Uh, Wicked.”

“Oh. I love that book.”

“I know.” He mutters, scanning over you carefully. “Do I look like I’m lying?” 

“No,” you whisper, your hands shoot up to hold Dean’s against your face. “I- No.”

“Good. You trust me?”

“I- Dean, I still need you to tell me why.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring slightly. 

You might be about to melt. You’ve never been this close to him, he’s never looked at you like this—as if he wouldn’t mind only looking at you for the rest of your life, or maybe he’d just like to eat you alive—and there’s a firmness to his voice that’s lighting a fire in your core. 

“I told you not to ask me that.” He mutters, and you shake your head.

“I need to know, Dean, please.” You pull your lips between your teeth. “You didn’t even talk to me, and you told Sam not to tell me, and it really- It wasn’t-“ You swallow, your voice turning to almost a whine, and you can’t stop it. “That wasn’t fair,  I thought you were mad at me and I just- I wanted to help-“

“I know you did, baby.” Dean sighs, and your lips part slightly. 

Baby.

“I’d never be mad at you,” he runs his thumb over your cheekbone, and it’s becoming really hard to not give him all of you. “I- You’re just- I-“

He’s moving before you know what’s happening. Diving down and pulling you up at the same time, crashing his mouth against yours with almost a bloody desperation, and you did melt. You’re all heat as your fingers curl against his chest, and his lips mold perfectly against yours, and he’s kissing you like you’re going to disintegrate and he’s going to die and he’s kissing you-

It’s over as soon as it starts. Your head is spinning, and your lips are already swollen from the bruising force of his kiss, but Dean’s drawing back with an almost frantic expression, stumbling back and leaving your swaying into the middle of the room. 

“I- Son of a bitch- I’m sorry-“

You blink at him, still a little dazed. “You’re sorry?”

Dean nods, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. “Shit- I shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart, I-“

“Why?” Your voice is soft, and he frowns at you. 

“You- I didn’t-“

“Dean.” You force yourself to stand tall, wrapping your arms around your stomach. He can’t do this. Just kiss you like that then say it shouldn’t have happened. He fucking kissed you. “Please just tell me why. I- You can’t just ignore me then do that and not say- You have to tell me why-“ You won’t cry. “Please-“

“I love you.”

Time might not be moving. Dean’s just staring at you from across the room, and you can’t really feel your legs, and- 

“What?” You whisper, and he shakes his head.

“I- I fucking love you.” He mutters, his gaze falling down to the floor. “And I know you deserve better, I do- But I always wanna tell you, and I would’ve, so I had to- I wasn’t tryin’ to piss you off, and I- Goddamnit, I never wanna make you cry, but you shouldn’t have to worry about turning me down-“

It’s your turn to move. You cross the room before Dean can keep saying stupid things, grab the collar of his shirt, and yank him back down into a kiss.

It’s even better than the first one. Dean falls into you in half a second, his arms flying out to hold you right to his chest, almost lifting you off the ground as he pushes his tongue between your lips, then groaning down your throat when you nip at it and wrap an arm around his neck. He tastes so good, and he fits better against you than you thought possible, and his hands are roaming all over you like he’s trying to check you’re real. 

You’ve never felt more real. There’s a wildfire spreading through your body, building as broad fingers brush against the bare skin of your back, and Dean’s mouth is starting to wander, sucking your upper lip between his teeth before starting to kiss down your neck, and his hand squeezes against your ass-

You move back, shoving his chest with all the strength you have, and he stumbles away, blinking at you with a wide, lust-blown expression.

“Never,” you poke his chest, glaring up at his dumbstruck, handsome face. “Do that again. I have loved you since I met you, Dean, you fucking idiot, and if you ever pull something like that again, I will shoot you with the gun you gave me.”

Dean blinks at you, and his face splits into a wide grin. “You love me?”

“Of course I love you-“

“Awesome.” He takes a step forward, and you stop him with a palm on his chest.

“Not awesome, Dean, I’m still mad at you-“

Your words turn into an unconvincing sigh as Dean grabs your wrist and tugs you forward, pulling you back into a longer, deeper kiss. 

It’s slow and soft, like you have all the time in the universe, and you feel as if you’re floating. Like everything is only light and warmth and the taste of Dean, lingering on your tongue when he hums against your lips, and pulls back with another wide, boyish grin.

“Here’s the deal, babygirl.” He tangles a hand in your hair, tipping your head back until your gaze is locked onto his. “You can kick my ass later, but right now I’d really like to give you a reason to stop being pissed at me. You want that?”

You pause, your fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “I still get to be mad later?”

Dean nods, leaning down to suck on the soft skin of your neck, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes your mouth. 

“Dean-“

“Lemme show you how much I mean it,” he hums against your skin. “Can’t lie right now, sweetheart, and you’re the prettiest things I’ve ever goddamn seen. Fuckin’ hated avoiding you, missed you so much-“

“I- Missed you too-“

“I know you did, c’mon, lemme take care of you-“

“Okay.”

He pulls back, watching you carefully. “You sure?” 

You nod eagerly, and his face splits back into a grin.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” your voice is breathy, and Dean’s grin widens. 

But he doesn’t get to get off that easy. 

“What do you want to do to me, Winchester?” You give him a teasing smirk, and his hands tense on your waist. “If you’ve been thinking about it that much…”

You raise your brows in a silent suggestion, and Dean groans.

“That’s not playing fair,” he leans back down, and you dodge, moving to kiss along his jawline. 

“Tell me what you want-“

“You’re starting something, sweetheart,” his words sound pushed through his teeth, and you giggle. 

“And you’re dodging the question- Dean-“

You squeak as his hand tangles in your hair, and he yanks you back to meet his gaze. 

He looks almost feral. Darkened eyes and full, swollen lips that are already parted with heavy breath. You’re pressed right against him, and his hand still on your waist is kneading your skin until you’re almost melted in the sheer heat and want, and-

He’s pressed right against your thigh. Hard. Big.

The ache between your legs is unbearable. You might come apart from nothing at all.

Or just from the sound of Dean’s voice, deep and rough and filled with hunger.

“I’ve wanted you since I saw you, baby,” he mutters, and when your hands shoot up to wrap around his neck and tug at his hair, a soft moan escapes his lips. “Son of a bitch, I want you all the fuckin’ time-“

“How?” You whisper, and his eyes flash.

“You really wanna know, sweet girl?” Dean starts to walk you backwards, towards his bed, and lets out a hiss when you yank on his hair again. 

“I’m asking-“

“I’ve thought about everything,” his voice is almost a growl, and you squeak as he tosses you back onto the mattress. “Thought about eating you out until you screamed, or just touching you to see what kinda sounds you’d make,” Dean pulls his shirt of as you gape up at him, before crawls over you with a wide grin. “Had dreams about those freakin’ sounds, how you’d moan for me if I did this-“

One big hand slides under your shirt, palming at your breasts before rolling a nipple between two fingers, and you fall fully back with a gasp. 

“Dean-“ You grab at his shoulders, squirming below him, and his grin grows, his hand wandering over to the other breast to repeat the movement. “Oh, god.”

“Nope.” Dean leans down, kissing you slow and deep, his hand starting to wander down your stomach, until he’s cupping you over your shorts. “Just me, sweetheart.”

You moan, shaking your head. “That’s so bad, De- Fuck-“

He smirks as his fingers slide under your shorts, and it falters for only a second as they find your bare pussy. 

“You’re not wearing any underwear.” He grunts, and you flush, turning your face into the pillow.

“Laundry day,” you mumble, and Dean chuckles.

“Sure, baby-“

“It is,” you twist to glare at him, and his grin just grows.

“I believe you,” he leans down, brushing his mouth right over yours, and you squeak as one finger trails between your pussy lips. “But I also believe you’re always this wet for me. And sometimes,” his thumb presses right over your clit. “You’d go bare and hope I’d just pin you down and fuck you.”

You moan shamelessly, your eyes wide and trapped on Dean’s and his voice drops lower than you’ve ever heard it. 

“I think you’ve touched yourself thinking of me, just like I touch myself thinking about you.”

There’s no chance to respond before his finger pushes inside of you, his thumb starting to rub slow circles around your pussy, and you’re flying. The only tether between the earth and pleasure, white-hot and perfect and teasing, is Dean’s voice, right in your ear. 

“Dream about your pretty mouth on my cock, babygirl. Or your hands, or being buried in the sweet pussy until you’re a perfect mess for me.” He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, and your nails dig into his back. “Kinda like this, actually.”

“De- Shit,” a second finger pushes in with the first, and he’s still moving them so slow. “Feels good, so good-“

“Yeah, it does,” Dean groans, and your eyes flutter open to see him rutting against the mattress, his own face almost a mirror of your own desperation as he watches his fingers pump in and out of your cunt. “Jesus, you’re so pretty-“

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hands, and his eyes snap onto yours. “More.”

He blinks at you for a second, but then gives you a tight nod. 

His fingers crook inside of you, rubbing against that hot, spongey spot inside of you, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. His thumb is gone from your clit, only giving it quick, frenzied flicks as you’re dragged right up to the edge, and he won’t look away from you-

Then he’s gone. You’re dangling right on the edge of release, but Dean yanks his fingers away with a taunting grin, and a high, pathetic sound escapes your throat. 

You start to grumble an incoherent protest, but it dies in your throat at the sight above you. 

He’s pushing your legs up to help you out of your shorts. He kisses against your calf before tossing everything into a corner of the room, and shoves your knees back apart. Then the two fingers push back into your for only a second, long enough to pull another moan from your throat, and Dean settles back between your legs with a grin.

Then he’s gone again. And one hand grabs your chin to keep your eyes trapped on his as he brings his fingers up to his mouth. 

Dean cleans his fingers of your arousal, his gaze never leaving yours, and a sound that’s awfully like a moan rumbling through his chest.

“Taste better than I dreamed,” he mutters, and you shudder with pleasure as he goes back, dragging those same fingers back over your soaked core, dipping slightly into your cunt like he’s trying to gather as much as he can. “Shit, I would’ve let a witch get the jump on me years ago if I knew I’d finally get to have this.”

You blink at him, your voice so soft and needy you almost don’t recognize it. “Years?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean nods, a slight blush seeming to creep over his cheeks, even as his thumb starts to drag slow circles around your clit. “Told you, sweetheart, you’ve been in since I saw you.”

“I- Why didn’t you-“

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d want it. Taste.”

You frown at him, opening your mouth to protest—your mind doesn’t seem to be able to wrap itself around not wanting Dean—but the sound falls into a moan as his fingers press on your lower lip. They’re soaked in your wetness, and asking for further permission, and under Dean’s almost adoring gaze, you don’t know how to do anything but grant it.

Dean groans as he pushes his fingers almost all the way down your throat, and you feel his still-clothed cock twitch against you when you start to suck.

“Jesus,” he mutters, pulling back with another one of those moans. “You’re so freakin’ perfect-“

“Dean,” you whine, scratching at his chest and bucking your hips up to try and grind over his bulge, but he just grunts, dropping his full weight down to pin you against the mattress.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, wiggling below him, and his eyes flutter shut.

“God-“ He moans your name as you manage to get your legs free, wrapping them around his waist and rolling your hips against his still hidden cock. “Shit- Alright.”

Dean grabs you by your waist, and you yelp as he rolls you over without warning. Suddenly you’re straddling his bare chest as he pulls off his sweats, his gaze locked on yours the whole time. Then your shirt is being all but ripped off your body, and before you know what’s happening, Dean’s got one hand on your ass and the other back on your jaw, hold your eyes down to his.

He mutters your name, and your fingers curl against his bare chest. “I’ve got a condom in the side drawer-“

“I’m clean.” Your words are too quick, and his eyes flash. “And I- I’m on birth control. If- If you’re- If you too-“

He laughs, his thumb tracing over your lower lip, and the sound rolls through his chest, vibrating against your pussy and making your mouth fall open. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, baby.” Dean’s hands drift to grab you by the waist, and he shifts below you, making sure he’s more leaning against the headboard than flat on his back. “Hold on.”

His grip tightens, and a stupid, high sound leaves you as he picks you up and pushes you down onto his cock.

He’s big. And thick. And you’re being filled up so good, already cockdrunk and a little out of your mind at the feel of him splitting your open and pressing on all the right spots, but he’s not moving. Dean’s just watching you with a wide, adoring gaze, grunting whenever you try to grind against him and hissing when you clench around him.

“I said,” he lands a light slap on your ass, his eyes narrowing on yours. “Not yet. Wanna feel you, baby. We’re gonna stay just like this until you’re begging for it.”

You gape at him, every word coming up as only a gasp or whimper as you try to move again, and he hits your ass again, and Dean raises his brows.

“Good?”

You nod, leaning down to press your brow to his. “Just doesn’t seem fair.”

He frowns. “Fair- If you don’t-“

“I like this.” You mumble, ghosting a kiss over his lips. “A lot. Love it.”

Dean grunts, dragging you down into a full, deep kiss that makes it almost impossible not to squirm against him. 

“What’s not fair, then?” He hums against your lips, and now that he knows you’re good, he seems to be all back on teasing. “C’mon, baby, you can tell me-“

You shove his chest, and he laughs. He can’t keep doing that. It’s like a small vibrator against your clit, and he’s so handsome, and you don’t know how to not clench around him. But all that gets you is another slap of your ass, and you might be starting to drip down your thighs and onto Dean’s.

“Asshole-“

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You love it.”

You do. “Never should’ve told you that,” you grumble, and he laughs again, and you might be on the brink of insanity.

“Too late. I know it now. Never gonna let you or this pretty pussy go neglected again, babygirl, so watch out.”

He pokes your side, grinning as you let out a squeaking giggle, but it quickly falls into a moan as his free hand moves up to play with your tits. 

“Dean-“

“I know,” he hums, flicking your nipple before leaning up to press a kiss over the hurt. “But you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart. Being such a good girl.”

You moan against, and Dean smirks.

“You like that, don’t you. Like being my good girl-“

“Dean.” You hiss, trying to grind against him, and whimpering at the next slap on your ass. “Fuck, please-“

“That’s closer.” He hums, resuming his movements on your tits. “But you still have to tell me what’s not fair.”

“It’s-“ You take a shaking breath, trying to regather your thoughts. “It’s not important-“

“Anything you think is important.” He mutters, and you swallow at the intensity in his gaze. “Tell me, baby. Then I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Fuck. 

He can’t lie. 

And just from the expression on his face, you can almost feel how much he means it. 

“It’s just, I-“ You take a slow breath, watching him carefully. “What about you?”

Dean frowns. “What about me.”

“You had, um- a lot of ideas.” You trace your fingers over his tattoo, trying to focus on your words instead of Dean’s cock, hard and pressed into you and making you almost burn with desire. “And I- I just don’t want it to only be about me-“

You’re cut off as Dean laughs again, your words falling into a high, gasping moan, and almost in a reward, Dean slams himself up to meet the rolls of your hips. 

You still get a small spank for the movement. 

Worth it.

Dean drawls your name, looking up at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “You think having you sit on my cock under you’re begging me to fuck you is about you?”

You flush, shaking your head weakly, and he chuckles again. 

You moan, fluttering around him, but this time the slap on your ass comes with Dean pinching your nipple, and slamming up until he’s hitting your cervix.

“Trust me, baby,” he grunts, squeezing your ass and tugging you back down into a long, slow kiss. “This is all about me.”

“But-“

“We’re gonna do all of that shit later,” Dean pulls back, just enough to hold your gaze, and his arm wraps around your back, pinning you firmly down. “Trust me, babygirl, I mean it. I’m gonna give you everything.”

“Dean-“

“But right now, I want you to come on my cock, and I want you to say please.” Something strange flashes over his expression, and his voice drops impossibly lower. “Need to know you mean it, sweetheart.”

Oh. 

You’re not under a truth curse. And Dean is adorable and handsome and strong below you, but he’s still Dean.

And you can see it in his eyes.

He’s still not sure you do mean it. 

You have nothing to do but prove him wrong.

“Dean.” You whisper, forcing your hips not to roll as you lean down, holding his gaze. “Please. I want it. Want it so bad. I dream about you and touch myself thinking about you. I’d let you do whatever you want to me, cause I love you and I need you, Dean. I’m going to go insane if you don’t fuck me, please.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean mutters, his grip growing bruising on your hips. “Feel so good, baby, just need you to give me one more-“

“Please-“

Your voice turns into a long, heavy moan as Dean rolls your hips along his cock, and the whole world lights up with good.

“Good girl,” he mutters, and you throw your head back as he helps you repeat the movement, every single nerve in your body glowing with Dean. “Fuck yourself on my cock, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

There might be something teasing to his voice, but you can’t really hear it. You can’t really think of anything past the feeling of him inside you, or the low sounds that you keep pulling out of his chest as you grind down. You’re riding Dean’s cock like your life depends on it, gasping his name whenever your clit rubs against his groin or his hips jerk, making him bump that sensitive spot deep inside of you.

And he’s a vision below you. Moaning your name and kneading at your ass, watching you move above him like he’s looking at all the stars in the sky. His lips are parted with heavy breathes, and one hand is drifting slowly up to the nape of your neck, squeezing slightly with his eyes wide on yours, and you tip your head back without a question.

Dean groans, his hand moving to grab your throat, and you move faster. He’s not holding you that tight, but there’s a possessiveness to his touch that’s like fire up your spine, and you want him to leave a mark. Want everyone to know that he’s yours, and he’s touching you, and-

“Fuck-“ Dean grunts your name, his grip squeezing slightly, and you move faster. “Shit- Sweetheart, you’re-“

His head throws back with a groan as you clench around him, chasing your release desperately, and you want him to come with you. You need him to. You need him to fill you up, to feel the burn of him in a week, to be so fucking ruined by him you can’t even walk-

“Dean,” you gasp, and his grip tightens even more. Stars are starting to dance behind your eyes. “So close, feels so good-“

“I know,” he grunts, and you gasp as his hips rut up. “Hold it, babygirl.”

You shake your head, grinding faster. “Can’t- Need you-“

You whimper as Dean squeezes your throat, and his eyes flash. “C’mon, sweet girl, be good for me-“

“I- Dean-“

He grunts, and you’re not sure when the shift happened, but you’re not in charge anymore. Dean’s arm is wrapped around your waist, pinning you against his chest as he surges up, his hand moving to your jaw to hold it still. The kiss is deep and bruising and all spit and teeth, and he’s fucking you. Drilling up into your aching cunt without relent, kissing all over your face and down your neck, over the small marks his hand left. Moving back to your mouth as you start to shudder around him, scraping at his shoulders in a plea for release and moaning down your throat. 

“Gonna cum,” he groans, his pace growing uneven. “Where-“

“In. Inside. Dean, just- Fuck-“

You almost scream as his thumb moves back to your clit, leaving a featherlight touch that’s somehow too much and not nearly enough. 

“Dean-“

“Cum on my cock, baby.” He growls, pressing his thumb down so hard it lights a firework in your whole body, and you don’t know how to do anything but listen.

Your orgasm hits your like a wildfire, sweeping through your whole body until your toes are curling and you’re slumped in Dean’s arms, and he meets you with one last, beautiful moan of your name and a slam of his hips home. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he fucks you through his release, making yours rise and crest once more, and when it’s done, everything feels sort of bright and dizzying. A high, cockdrunk giggle escapes your throat, and Dean groans.

“Shit-“ He mutters your name, and you realize you’d squeezed around him. “Goddamnit, that was-“

“Yeah.” You whisper, curling further into his chest. “Thanks.”

He chuckles, but it falls into another moan as you flutter around him once more. “Alright, that’s enough of that.”

Dean’s breathing is ragged in your ear, and you keep your arms wrapped tight around him as he pulls out. You don’t manage to stop your soft moan, feeling impossibly empty and raw from the absence of him, but it’s alright.

He’s still here. 

And now, he’s yours. 

Dean presses a soft kiss to your brow, his words soft in your ear. “You want me to clean you up, baby?”

You shake your head, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Don’t wanna move.”

“We made a mess-“

“Later.”

He chuckles, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You smile, and grab him a little tighter. “Are you still truth cursed?”

“Course I am. Wasn’t a sex curse, this is just a benefit-“

“Shut up.” You tug on his hair, and all you get is a laugh in return.

You lean back, just enough to meet his eyes, and he can’t have looked at you like this before. Like you’re his whole world, and he’d never want to ever be anywhere else but you. 

You would’ve seen it. 

You hope you would’ve.

“Did you mean it?” You whisper, and he frowns. 

“Mean what?”

“That you’ve loved me since we met?”

Dean’s jaw twitches, and he lets out a slow sigh. “I’ve wanted you since we met. Didn’t love you until a few months after. But it didn’t take much.”

You raise your brows, and he rolls his eyes. 

“You’re really taking advantage of how that I’m cursed, you know-“

“It was first sight for me.” You whisper, and his mouth snaps shut. “You saved me, then helped me stand up, and I felt like an idiot because I was in love with the stranger who just decapitated someone in front of me.”

Dean’s throat bobs. “You still feel like an idiot?”

“Yeah.” It’s only fair you’re honest, if he has to be. “But only because I spent years pretending, I didn’t love you, and didn’t get to have this.”

You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to Dean’s lip, and he lets out a soft sound that almost has you ready for round two. 

“You punched me.” He mutters, and you lean back with a curious expression.

“Huh?”

“That’s when I fell in love with you.” He mutters, rubbing slow circles on the skin of your hips. “I was trying to teach you how to shoot, but you’d never held a gun so you were shit at it. And I already liked you, so I was, uh- Kinda being an asshole. Pushing you too hard. And I said somethin’ about you not being able to defend yourself, and you suckered me right in my fuckin’ jaw. Started shouting at me about how I was being a dick, but- Um-“ He’s blushing, giving you an almost sheepish expression. “Didn’t hear a word you said. Think I was making heart eyes or something. Remember thinking I’m either marrying you, or no one.”

You can’t stop your wide, almost idiotic smile, but it’s worth it. Dean mirrors it right back, and his eyes flutter as your run your hand carefully through his hair. 

“I love you.” You whisper. “And I can punch you again, if you want.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, and leaning up to pull you down into a long, slow kiss. And you can feel it, in this one. How he really has been as hungry for this as you have. How—just as you don’t think you ever want to move from his lap, even if the rapture floods the world and the sky starts to fall—he never plans to let you go.

“That can be one of our later things,” he mutters, tracing his tongue over your lower lip. “Right now I just wanna sit with my girl.”

You beam, nipping at his tongue. “Who you love?”

“Yeah.” He snorts, squeezing your ribs and grinning as you jump, almost falling over him with a whine. “Who I love.”

End Note: The Dean Winchester mind cannot comprehend that he is lovable (I am going to force that knowledge down his throat).

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@jofinka

[pyrodolls]

SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER

WARNINGS: stalking, obsessiveness, breaking and entering, nsfw, masochist yandere, overstimulation, thigh riding, bondage, male masturbation, unhealthy behavior, average yandere tendencies, male yandere oc (he’s very pathetic and perverted, it’s giving “step on me” energy.) gender neutral reader

A/N: heyyyyy guess who isn’t dead.. i literally open tumblr every 3 minutes i just haven’t been posting. but i’m hereeeee lol. here’s a random yandere oc post, sorry it’s not mortal kombat. (tbh i have faded away from my mk obsession and now i am obsessed with until dawn, the quarry, tlou, and rdr.)

part two here!

superfan! yandere boy that buys all of your merchandise and streams your music on loop 24/7. even while he sleeps.

superfan! yandere boy that commissions artists to draw you and him together in different styles. some of them may depict him on a cute date with you, and some are more explicit and depict you stepping on him or choking him.

superfan! yandere boy that sneaks into your concerts if he didn’t manage to buy a ticket. no matter how strong your security is, he will always manage to find a way in and pretend he's just a regular fan.

superfan! yandere boy that will even sneak onto your house and film you through your window for hours, and then he would go home and touch himself to the footage of you.

superfan! yandere boy that wants to buy meet-and-greet tickets to see you, and be able to feel your presence up close and be able to speak to you personally. but as much as he craves your attention, he knows he wouldn't be able to handle it and would crumble immediately the second you look him in the eyes.

superfan! yandere boy that pays people to stalk you and take pictures of you when he can't do it himself. especially ones when you have a wardrobe malfunction.

superfan! yandere boy that goes to sleep every night fantasizing and dreaming of you. his particular favorite wet dream is of you letting him ride your thigh, grinding against your skin as a desperate attempt to feel any friction on his cock. your hands would roam around his body as he relishes in your attention, no matter where you touch him. any small nudge or brush against his skin would set his heart on fire and oh no where'd his pants go-

superfan! yandere boy that thinks you could do no wrong. you said something offensive and got yourself cancelled? he is your number one defender and would be threatening your naysayers on the internet. he would even go as far as to learn to hack just so he could delete their accounts.

superfan! yandere boy that almost WANTS to get caught. he knows he wouldn't be able to handle your attention, so he avoids it, but a part of him wants to get caught and outed for his perverted, stalker ways. he wants to hear you cuss him out and degrade him. he wants to see the disgusted look on your face as he is exposed for everything he did. spit on him, kick him, treat him like vermin, he doesn't mind. he gets off on the thought of you punishing him. he has a particular fantasy where your punishment for him is by tying him up and overstimulating him until he is crying, whimpering, and almost fainting. but he would still beg for more. no matter how long it lasts. it could be a week long and he still wouldn't be satisfied.

[misserabella]

hey! i love your spencer reid fanfics!

i wanted to request a spencer x reader fanfic where they are experimenting with each other sort of and spencer times how much he can make reader come or how long it would take him to make her squirt because he’s not just a curious genius but also down bad

ty and if you’re uncomfortable with that just ignore! 💜

let’s put it to the test

experienced! spencer x inexperienced! reader

okay but what if spencer is the once with experience this time and reader is the one inexperienced?!?

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, spencer being a supportive attentive perfect boyfriend, taking it slow, make out sessions, fluff!!!, thigh riding, dry humping, fingering, mutual masturbation, spencer teaching r how to touch him, oral sex (r receiving), multiple orgasms, lingerie, spencer going feral, hard sex (reader asks for it), nipple sucking, dirty talking, breeding kink, piv unprotected, cream pie!!, squirting…

experienced! spencer who reassures you that there’s nothing wrong for not being experienced sexually with kisses and cuddles, telling you that he’s okay with waiting until you’re ready to take that step with him, or even if you never wanted to, he’d still be okay with it ‘cause he loves you.

experienced! spencer who starts off slow with you, pecks, kisses, and make out sessions in that order, until you seek more and start grinding yourself down onto his lap. he doesn’t touch you. not yet. he kisses you, and encourages you to ride his thigh. to make yourself feel good. and you do. hesitantly at first, but then you get the hang of it and it feels so good… coming against his slacks becomes your first and comfort way of receiving pleasure.

experienced! spencer who doesn’t pressure you, lets you explore, let’s you touch him, pleasure him if that’s what you want. he teaches you how to touch him, how to turn his mind blank. and when you’re completely and utterly soaked due to his beautiful moans, you beg for him to touch you. he asks if you’re sure, makes you promise that you’ll stop him if you don’t like it or change your mind. that night you two masturbate each other. his fingers become your second and favorite way of receiving pleasure.

experienced! spencer who, weeks later, notices that you’re keeping something to yourself. he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t want to make you say it before you’re comfortable to talk about it. one night, while he fingers and kisses you, you whisper that you want his tongue. and he catches on what you want the first time. but he wants you to be specific, ‘cause god, spencer has been wanting to taste you since the first time he saw you. so you ask him if “could you eat me out, please spencer?” and who is he to say no? his mouth is heaven. and moves up on the chart, taking the number 1.

experienced! spencer who becomes obsessed —just like you— with tasting your pretty pussy. getting into silly little missions like ‘i’m gonna put a countdown of thirty minutes and see how much i can make you cum before the alarm goes off’, what at first makes you roll your eyes, but when he’s already pulled 3 orgasms out of you by the fifteen minute mark, you’re rolling them for a completely other reason. yeah, you love this little challenges of his.

experienced! spencer who comes one day back from a hard case to find you kneeling on his plushy bed, bare except for the prettiest lavender lacy lingerie set you had bought solely for him, telling him that you’re ready. that you want him to fuck you. and he doesn’t need much convincing.

experienced! spencer who almost cums when his tip slides in, ‘cause even if he had prepped you, and made you come a couple of times to slick and relax you, you’re still soooo tight.

experienced! spencer who takes it slow, who circles your clit, who sucks at your nipples to help you get used to the pressure, to the feeling of his big cock splitting you apart.

experienced! spencer who groans when you beg him to fuck you hard. when you tell him that you can take it. that you want him to break you.

experienced! spencer who goes feral and gives you exactly what you want. and well, if you thought his mouth was heaven, his cock is certainly something above that.

“is this what my pretty girl wanted? wanted me to split this pussy open, hm? look at you, baby, you’re drooling. taking my cock like the perfect little cock sleeve that you are. fuuck yeah, squeeze me like that, princess. good fucking girl.”

experienced! spencer who praises you. who degrades you. who chokes you. who marks you…

experienced! spencer who has you coming like crazy, having fucked you in every single position, reaching so deep inside you he’s hitting your cervix as he bends you in the most perfect mating press.

“how many orgasms do you think it’ll take me to make you squirt, hm? let’s find out shall we?”

experienced! spencer who indeed makes you squirt, so much you end up soaking the mattress. making a mess of his sheets and thighs. you’re a pure fuck toy as he fucks out of you spurt after spurt, buckets of liquid out of your swollen and abused cunt.

experienced! spencer who groans as if he were in pain when you plead for him to cum inside you, to fill you up.

experienced! spencer who does it as in command, coming so hard he’s seeing stars.

experienced! spencer who then spends the rest of the week making sure to fuck you full of his cum in every room on his apartment, on every surface.

@cafekitsune ‘s dividers!

@ordinarywaifusstuff ty for your support and this ask! hope you like how it came out!💋

[v1x3n]

[scftangl]

Me every time in a fanfic they villainise a female character just so there's unnecessary drama or a stupid love triangle:

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!CEO x Reader

If you wanna know more about the levels, check out this post :)

Danger level: ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Submissive level: ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡ ♡ ♡

Yandere!Ceo who does not care about his employees

Yandere!Ceo who is strict and cold, anyone not keeping up will be cut off

Yandere!Ceo who brings you to the verge of insanity

Yandere!Ceo who finally makes you snap

Yandere!Ceo who has a chill running down his spine when you pin him against his office's floor

Yandere!Ceo who's pulse is going erratic against the tip of the pen you pressed against his neck

Yandere!Ceo who's face start feeling hot, who is completely captivated by you on top of him

Yandere!Ceo who grabs your wrist and makes you push the pen harder against his neck, a whimper threatening to come out

Yandere!Ceo who promotes you to be his personal secretary

Yandere!Ceo who can't get enough of being your puppy <3

[bananastarlo]

Warning: NSFW!

Thinking about yandere nerd who saw someone else talking to you. Now you're paying the price.

You see him in the hallway, quickly avoiding his gaze as he continues to stare at you from a distance with piercing eyes, making you blush.

But when a boy comes up and tries to talk to you, he gets bold, approaching you and wrapping his surprisingly strong arms around your waist.

“Back off, she’s mine,” is all he says, his voice sultry with possessiveness.

Then he takes your hand and storms off with you.

“Who are you thinking about right now, hm? Is it him?”

You don’t answer, the shame of the situation you’re in making you want to shrink back. But it feels so good. He feels so good.

“Answer me!” he demands, as he spanks your ass while you’re bent over his knee. The loss of pleasure as he stops pumping his thick, long fingers into your dripping pussy, paired with the sudden sting, leaves you heavy with arousal as you squirm in his lap.

“N-No, you’re all I think about, p-please,” you desperately mewl, attempting to rub your aching clit against his knee, causing enough friction to stimulate yourself as your thoughts begin to fade, chasing your own orgasm.

“Shit,” he groans. “You know, it’s really hard to stay mad at you when you look so cute and desperate on my legs, only for me.

But you need to learn that you belong to me now.”

Suddenly, he yanks your hair back with one hand, the other keeping you from squirming.

The sound you make as he whispers into your ear, telling you how fucking good you look, is enough to make him cum in his own pants.

“Aw, look at this, I made a mess and it’s your fault, baby. But you’ll help me, right? Help me, and I’ll make you feel so good I’ll forget you ever tried to talk to another man.”

Now you’re between his legs, looking up at his veiny, hard cock and the amount of cum leaking out of it. You pant as your own bare pussy starts to pulse and drip onto the floor at the sight of his dick. Your hands shakily wrap around his shaft, earning a needy groan from him.

You sigh in utter bliss at the thought of making him feel good, beginning to lap up his thick white cum like a good dog while gently stroking him, drawing the most angelic and sinful sounds from his throat.

“Y-Yes, that’s a good fucking girl,” he praises as his head falls back, face flushed, his fingers twitching as he grips the sheets. He slowly brings one hand to the back of your head, guiding your hot mouth, while biting the other to suppress his whimpers.

It doesn’t take long—he ejaculates again, and this time, shoots his load on your face, giving him a sight he thought he’d only ever see in heaven.

He needs a moment to regain his composure, huffing heavily.

“C’mere,” he croaks, fully pulling you into his arms, leaving no space to breathe. You oblige, excitement and a rush of heat filling you as your hearts pound against your ribcages, thinking about what he’ll do to you, already anticipating his hot, passionate touch.

“You can use me. You’ve been so good for me, you earned it,” he whispers, shifting his attention to your neck, sucking and biting your soft flesh.

You moan as your hips stutter against his, drawing the same sound from him.

You try to focus on your own satisfaction as you roll your hips against his knee and glide your aching slit along his big thigh, holding onto his neck to steady yourself. Your whines and puffs begin to increase as your mind blanks, and all you can feel are the intense waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

He watches you as you increase your pace, hitting that right spot over and over again.

“You’re doing so good,” he smirks.

As soon as you hear his words, your body reacts—your back arches as you release on him.

He takes you in his arms and cradles you, patting your head and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, making you drowsy until you eventually fall asleep in his embrace.

[fungifaggot]

NSFW 18+: Sub!Mark Grayson x Male Reader

One overlooked perk of dating Mark Grayson is his exceptional lung capacity. Thanks to his Viltrumite heritage and extensive training, he can hold his breath for days—or even weeks at a time.

You didn’t think much of this trait initially- until you fucked his throat for the first time.

You were absolutely blown away by his ability to suck your cock. Not once did he even think about tapping out or making you slow down. No matter how relentlessly you thrusted your cock into the warm walls of his mouth- he could take it.

You can plug his nose or wrap your hands around his throat while you fuck it, but it wont do anything. Without the need to breath he can suck your cock for as long as you’re willing to go. He hardly gags or chokes, he just holds his breath, opens his mouth wide, and lets you use it as if hes your own personal flesh light.

The best part of it all is getting to see his un swallowed spit pool up and ooze out of the corners of his mouth while you abuse him. The mixture of spit and cum drips down in long viscous strings, forming small puddles on the floor- serving as a reminder of just how long Mark can last.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/n: BARKVARKBARKVARKBARKVARK BARK.

I’m begging for some mutuals. Whats up with y’all?