backseatconfessions - Tumblr blog

backseatconfessions · 3 months ago

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In my room | obsessed!Sam Winchester x Reader

A/n: I’ve been listening to “in my room” by “insane clown posse” on repeat… and I just had to write it out! Also got a second part for “sammys girl” planned :)

Summary: Sam becomes consumed by a mysterious spirit, Y/N, who only appears at night. As obsession takes over, he’ll do anything to keep her close. But the cost of his love might be more than he can handle.

Warnings: Obsession, Manipulation, Emotional distress, Unhealthy relationships, Gaslighting, irrational behavior, Mentions of death, Blood, Mental instability, Toxic dynamics

The first time Sam saw you, he thought he was dreaming.

It had been a long, brutal hunt. The kind that left his body aching, his mind buzzing with exhaustion. He barely had the strength to kick off his boots before collapsing onto the motel bed, muscles heavy, limbs sluggish. Dean had gone out—probably to some bar, eager to drown the night in whiskey and distraction.

Sam wasn’t like that.

He just wanted sleep.

But the second he closed his eyes, he felt it.

Something was watching him.

His instincts kicked in immediately. His pulse jumped. His hand shot under the pillow, gripping the cool handle of his knife, body tense as his eyes snapped open.

And then he saw you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him with an unreadable expression.

His breath caught.

You were beautiful.

Not just in the way women sometimes were, but in a way that made his chest tighten, made his mouth go dry. The dim motel lamp flickered behind you, casting soft shadows over your face, your lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

He should’ve been alarmed.

Should’ve reached for his gun.

Should’ve demanded, Who the hell are you?

But all he could do was stare.

You tilted your head, eyes running over his face like you were memorizing him.

"You're not real," he muttered, voice hoarse.

You didn’t react, didn’t deny it, didn’t confirm it. You just smiled.

"Does it matter?"

And maybe that should’ve been his first warning.

You came back the next night.

And the next.

Always in the same way—when he was alone, when the world outside was silent, when the cheap motel lamp flickered like it knew something he didn’t.

He stopped questioning it after the third time.

Stopped trying to rationalize it.

Because when you crawled into his bed, when your hands slid over his skin, when your lips brushed his—none of it feltlike a hallucination.

It felt real.

It felt like something he needed.

And God, did he need you.

Some nights, you didn’t speak.

Some nights, you just existed together, tangled beneath the sheets, your fingers tracing slow patterns over his arm. Sam never pulled away. Never stopped you. He let you touch him, let you consume him.

The way your fingertips skimmed over his skin—soft, deliberate—sent shivers down his spine. You’d watch him like he was something precious, like you had all the time in the world to learn every inch of him.

"Why me?" he asked once, voice quiet in the dark.

Your fingers stilled.

Then you leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

"Because you needed me," you whispered.

And God help him—he did.

Other nights, you whispered things to him.

Dark, quiet things.

"You’re tired of this life, aren’t you?"

Sam lay still, staring at the ceiling, your fingers ghosting over his chest.

"All the blood," you murmured, your voice like a lullaby. "All the pain. The loss. It never stops."

His throat worked, but he didn’t speak.

"You deserve peace," you said, curling against his side, your hand pressing over his heart. "And I can give it to you."

His fingers tightened around the sheets.

All he had to do was say yes.

And God, some nights, he almost did.

Dean started to notice.

"You good, man?"

Sam barely heard him. The diner was too bright, too loud. His fingers drummed against the table, restless. His mind was elsewhere. His body was here, but his soul—his everything—was back in that motel room, waiting for night to fall.

"Sam."

Dean snapped his fingers in front of his face.

Sam exhaled, rubbing his temples.

"What?"

"You hear anything I just said?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

Dean gave him a long, assessing look.

"Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird. You barely eat, you barely talk, you disappear into that damn motel room and don’t come out for hours—"

Sam didn’t like the way Dean was looking at him.

Like he was concerned. Like he was figuring something out.

So he forced a smirk.

"You jealous I’m seeing someone?"

Dean blinked.

"You’re what?"

Sam shrugged, standing.

"Forget it."

And before Dean could press him further, he was already walking out the door. But Dean knew, he had to find out what or who was driving his brother into madness.

That night, Sam didn’t wait for you to come to him.

The second you appeared, he grabbed you. Pulled you onto his lap, hands desperate, needy. You laughed, soft and knowing, fingers threading into his hair as he buried his face against your throat.

"You missed me," you teased.

"You have no idea," he muttered against your skin.

His lips pressed to your collarbone, your jaw, your mouth. He wanted to devour you, to keep you here forever, to lose himself in you until the rest of the world faded into nothing.

"Would you do anything for me, Sam?"

Your voice was a whisper, breath warm against his lips.

"Yeah," he rasped.

Your smile was slow, satisfied.

Like you already knew.

The first time Sam hurt someone for you, it felt... right.

The guy had it coming. Some drunk asshole at a gas station, talking too loud, getting too close, saying things about you.

"You got yourself a lady up in that motel?"

Sam had barely looked at him.

"Bet she's real sweet. The quiet ones always are."

The guy grinned, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Something inside Sam snapped.

The next thing he knew, the guy was on the ground, blood gushing from his nose, Sam’s knuckles burning. His pulse was wild, his breathing ragged, his hands twitching with the urge to keep going.

You were watching.

Standing just beyond the flickering light of the streetlamp.

And you were smiling.

A slow, pleased smile.

Sam’s heart pounded.

He wanted to see that smile again.

He’d do anything to see it again.

Sam could feel the change in the air every time he walked into that room. It was as if the very walls were breathing with him, with you. He could smell the scent of you—faint but unmistakable, a mix of something floral and earthy that clung to the air, teasing him like a memory he couldn’t quite recall.

Every time he closed his eyes, you were there. Your voice was soft, like silk, but it carried with it a sharp edge that made his heart race.

"Sam…"

You whispered it every time you appeared, soft and coaxing, pulling him in closer. It wasn’t like the other women he’d known. No, this was something else entirely. Something darker. Something that only existed when he was alone, when the world outside faded away.

He needed you.

He wanted you.

At first, it was just fleeting moments. You would show up in the reflection of his mirror, standing just behind him. He would spin around in surprise, but of course, there was no one there. He would brush it off, telling himself it was nothing more than his exhaustion, his mind playing tricks on him.

But then the whispers came.

And it wasn't just in his mind anymore. No, you were there. Standing in the corner of his motel room, watching him as he fumbled through the case files, staring at him with an expression that made his skin crawl and burn all at once. Your eyes were predatory, dark with something he couldn't define but wanted to fall into.

"You miss me, don’t you?"

It was the first time you’d spoken to him in that quiet voice. Sam froze, the words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. He’d never expected it, but as soon as you spoke, it felt like the world had paused.

"Y/N…" he breathed out, voice hoarse as his gaze darted around, finding nothing but the empty room.

But you weren’t gone. No. You were still there. He could feel you.

"I don’t know what this is," Sam whispered to the empty space. But deep down, he knew. He knew what it was. He was losing himself, piece by piece, to the pull of you.

It wasn't long after that when he could feel your presence more than ever. You started appearing every night, closer and closer, until you were sitting beside him, watching him from the edge of his bed.

He could barely breathe around you. His heart raced, but it wasn’t from fear—it was something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Sam would lie awake for hours, eyes staring at the ceiling as he pretended to sleep, but he couldn’t escape you. Not when your fingers seemed to graze his skin when he wasn’t looking. Not when your laughter filled the silence like a soft, sickening lullaby.

Every time he looked at you, he felt like he was drowning and floating at the same time. You were the air he breathed, but you were also suffocating him.

One night, Sam woke up to find you sitting on the edge of the bed, just inches from him. Your eyes were dark, unblinking, fixed on him in a way that felt too intense, too knowing.

"Sam," you said, voice low, hushed. "You know what I need."

His breath caught in his throat. He could barely speak. He couldn’t even move. He was frozen in place, his body betraying him, a war raging inside him as his mind screamed at him to get away, but his heart—his heart wanted nothing more than to stay.

“What do you want from me?” Sam finally forced out, his voice shaking with the desperation he hadn’t even known was there.

You leaned in closer, and his heart thundered in his chest as the air around him thickened with your presence.

"I want you to let go," you whispered. "Give in, Sam. You’ve been holding on for so long, but you need me. You know you do."

The words wrapped around his mind, curling like smoke and making it harder to breathe. You were right. He did need you. He couldn’t fight it anymore.

Without thinking, Sam reached for you. His hand touched your cheek, his fingers trembling as he traced the outline of your jaw. It was like touching smoke—like your skin was there but not quite real. But the sensation of you was undeniable. You were real.

"I can’t lose you," he muttered, voice thick with emotion.

"You won’t," you replied, your lips curling into a smile that sent a shiver down his spine. "I’m not going anywhere, Sam."

And that was when he realized it. You weren’t some ghost. You weren’t just a thing haunting his dreams. You were consuming him. And as much as he knew he should walk away, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

You were his obsession. His addiction. And nothing, not even his brother, would come between you.

The next night, Sam was lost to you entirely. He had barely noticed how much time had passed, how many nights he’d spent tangled up in the illusion of your touch. Every night was the same, and every night, it grew more intense. Your presence would envelope him, filling him with a longing he couldn’t satiate.

He needed you. He wanted you more than anything.

“Sam, I don’t like this.”

Dean’s voice broke through his thoughts like an ice-cold slap. Sam didn’t turn, didn’t even blink. His mind was too far gone, too tangled in the idea of you to care about anything else.

“She’s not real, Sam,” Dean continued, stepping closer, his voice filled with worry. “You have to stop this. You’re slipping, man.”

But Sam didn’t hear him. He couldn’t. All he could hear was your voice, calling to him from the shadows.

“You don’t understand. You can’t,” Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand tightening around the gun he’d been cleaning. It was too quiet in the room—too still. The sound of his own breath was the only thing grounding him to reality, but even that was fading.

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he approached his brother. “What are you talking about? You’re losing it, Sam. This obsession—it’s tearing you apart.”

Sam didn’t move. He stayed frozen, staring at the door where you had just disappeared.

“I’m not losing anything,” Sam said softly, his voice distant, almost eerie. “I have her, Dean. She’s all I need.”

Dean's expression shifted. He could see it in Sam’s eyes—he was too far gone. He wasn’t just obsessed with some ghost. He was in love with her, and she was taking everything from him.

Dean’s voice grew more urgent. “Sam, you have to stop this. She’s not real. She’s not even alive anymore. She’s just a ghost!”

Sam’s eyes flickered to Dean, his expression distant, hollow.

“You don’t understand,” Sam repeated, voice shaking. “You don’t get it. I can’t let her go. I can’t.”

And that was when it happened.

One night, Sam woke to find you beside him in the bed, your body pressed against his. The warmth of you seeped into his skin like molten heat. Your lips brushed against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Come with me, Sam,” you whispered. “Stay with me forever.”

Sam’s heartbeat quickened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. His mind spun as he fought against the pull of you. He knew Dean had been right—he was slipping away.

But the truth was, he didn’t want to stop.

“I’ll do anything,” Sam murmured. His voice cracked with desperation.

It was the last straw for Dean.

When he found Sam in that room, face pale and eyes empty, standing in front of the mirror where you once appeared, Dean knew it was time. He had to do what had to be done.

Without hesitation, Dean prepared the salt and gasoline, ready to burn your bones. He had to do it. There was no other choice.

Sam wasn’t going to make it without that final severing.

You stopped coming.

One night.

Two nights.

Three.

Sam barely functioned.

Every second without you was a waking nightmare. He felt hollow, like something inside him had been ripped out, like he was bleeding but there was no wound.

He searched for you.

Not just in the motel, but everywhere. Through books, through lore, through every scrap of information he could get his hands on.

And then—he found it.

The case.

The one Dean had been working on.

A girl.

Dead for years.

Her bones—burned.

Sam’s world tilted.

His hands shook.

His stomach twisted into knots so tight he could barely breathe.

He was moving before he even registered it, storming out of the room, barely hearing the motel door slam behind him.

Dean was in the parking lot, throwing a duffel into the Impala’s trunk when Sam found him.

"You did it, didn’t you?"

Dean turned, frowning.

"Did what?"

"Her," Sam bit out, voice rough. "You—salt and burned her bones."

Dean’s expression darkened.

"She was a spirit, Sam. She was messing with your head. What was I supposed to do?"

"No."

Sam’s voice cracked. His breath was shaky. His chest ached.

Dean took a slow step forward, his face unreadable.

"Listen to yourself, Sam," he said, voice quieter now. "She’s gone. It’s over."

Sam laughed.

A raw, broken laugh.

"It’ll never be over."

After you were gone, Sam’s world fell apart.

Every night felt like a war. A constant battle to keep his sanity, to keep his focus. But it was a losing fight. His thoughts were consumed by you—by the way you looked at him, the way your fingers traced his skin, the soft, seductive whispers that had melted through his defenses.

You were still with him.

Your presence hung heavy in the air, like a suffocating fog he couldn’t escape.

He couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t eat.

He couldn’t breathe without imagining you there, watching him, wanting him.

He needed you. And nothing else seemed to matter.

Dean had noticed. He always noticed.

Sam was quieter than usual, his eyes glazed over, distant. His usual protective instinct was clouded with a hollow emptiness, like he wasn’t really there. Dean tried to reach him. He tried to bring Sam back.

“Sam, talk to me, man. You’re scaring me.”

But Sam barely heard him.

Dean’s voice sounded far away—like it was coming from underwater. Nothing felt real. Not the hunt. Not his brother. Nothing.

Only you.

Dean had tried everything: work, food, even women. But nothing could distract Sam for long. He saw your face in every corner of his vision, heard your laugh in the rustle of leaves, the sound of the wind through trees.

It was maddening.

And Sam knew he was losing it.

It wasn’t long before he started doing things he couldn’t explain.

Like the time he found himself standing in the middle of the woods at midnight, staring at the empty air, whispering your name into the wind.

“Y/N... where are you?”

He wasn’t even sure why he was asking. He knew you weren’t there. You couldn’t be.

But his body felt it—like you were just beyond reach, like all he had to do was call you, and you’d appear.

When nothing happened, when the forest stayed empty and silent, he felt a surge of anger. The need to do something—to make it real again. He kicked a tree in frustration, gritting his teeth against the way his hands shook.

But nothing.

Nothing but the echo of your name ringing in the night air.

“Sam. What the hell are you doing?”

Dean’s voice cut through the dark like a blade, sharp and concerned. Sam whirled, startled, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t even heard his brother approach.

“Nothing. Just… thinking,” Sam muttered, but even to his own ears, it sounded like a lie.

Dean eyed him skeptically, taking a step closer.

“Sam, talk to me. You’re freaking me out. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this isn’t you.”

Sam’s chest tightened, suffocating, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“It’s nothing, Dean,” Sam said again, more forcefully this time. “I’m fine.”

But Dean wasn’t buying it. He never did.

“You’re not fine. You’ve been acting weird for weeks. First, it’s the missing girl in that damn motel room, and now this? I know something’s wrong.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed, his frustration building.

“You don’t get it,” he spat, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t understand. She was real. She was with me. And you—” Sam took a step toward Dean, eyes blazing with a manic energy. “You took her away.”

Dean recoiled, a flash of confusion and concern crossing his face.

“Sam… What the hell are you talking about?”

Sam’s breath was coming in ragged gasps now, his voice trembling with something dangerous.

“You killed her. You burned her bones. And now she’s gone. But she’s still here. She’s in my head. She’s all I think about. I can’t—” Sam’s voice cracked, and his hands shot out to grab Dean’s shoulders, shaking him. “I can’t let her go.”

Dean stared at him, shocked, his hands frozen at his sides.

“Sam, you’re not making sense,” Dean said quietly, trying to pull back. “You need to calm down. I’m just trying to help you.”

But Sam wasn’t listening. He was too far gone.

He was broken.

#angst #sam x you #sam winchester x reader #obsessed!sam Winchester #obsessed!sam Winchester x reader #obsessed!sam Winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #supernatural angst

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backseatconfessions · 3 months ago

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I can’t lie… I keep coming back every couple of days just to read this. Again and again and again. It’s a fucking masterpiece.

I dreamed of the places I’ve been with you (Sam Winchester x female reader)

You have a dirty dream about Sam while the two of you are stuck in the Impala, and Sam has a… reaction to it.

Read it on AO3

Rated E. 4.1k words. Stuck in the Impala. Wet dreams. Inappropriate boners. Dirty talk. Mutual masturbation. Sammy being the sweetest dork.

“How does he keep doing that?” you sigh, a touch of admiration in your voice.

Sam chuckles. “I don’t think he can help it, honestly.”

You cross your arms over the back of the Impala’s front seat, put your chin on your hands. “They just keep throwing themselves at him,” you say.

Sam nods. “Yup,” he says. “Welcome to my life.”

Both of you keep watching as Dean talks to the single mom you just saved from a ghoul a few hours earlier. She's hot, there's no denying it, and Dean has been flirting shamelessly with her from second one. Now that she's out of immediate danger, she's flirting back.

Sam sits in the passenger seat of Dean’s car, the Impala, you in the back while you marvel at them, watching them like zoo animals where they are standing a few feet away from the car.

Just then, the hot mom’s hand lands on Dean’s arm in an oh-so-casual gesture.

“Look, look,” you say, slapping Sam’s shoulder to make sure he pays attention. “She’s about to do the horny giggle.”

A second later, the mom leans forward, cocking one of her hips as she laughs at something Dean said, then bites her lower lip.

“Wow,” Sam replies, “lip bite, too, huh?” You nod. “I guess we’ll be here a while.”

But a few seconds later, Dean turns away from her and walks towards the car, leaning into the window on Sam’s side. “Allison wants to show me her record collection.”

Sam scoffs, and you say: “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Okay, virgins,” he replies. “I’ll just hop in and you guys wait here, okay? Won’t take long.” Sam makes a face.

“Dude,” he says, “that’s not something to brag about.” You lean forward to see Dean better.

“We’re not gonna sit out here while you’re in there getting laid, Dean,” you say, your tone irritated. “We can just drive back to the motel and pick you up when you’re done disappointing her.” Sam chuckles, but Dean shakes his head.

“The motel’s an hour away,” he says. “I’m not waiting an hour to have Mom and Dad pick me up. I’m not fifteen.”

You are just opening your mouth to complain, when Dean says: “My car, my rules. You’re waiting here.”

Then he walks off back to the hot mom and the two walk into her house. Sam shakes his head.

“This is…” he says, but doesn't finish saying what it is.

“I feel like a pimp,” you offer instead. You stare at the house Dean and the woman just vanished into.

“Well,” you sigh, resigned, pushing your backpack you have on the backseat with you towards the far end of the bench, moving to lay your head down on it. “Nothing to do but wait and hope Allison’s a fast one.”

Sam chuckles and turning back to you, seeing you laid out on the bench, asks: “You wanna take a nap?” You shake your head.

“Just getting comfortable,” you say. “I’m not even tired.” You're asleep five minutes later.

You're feeling warm and your body is tense and you wake with an intense shudder.

You notice your mouth is open and your fists clenched, your chest heaving, desperately trying to suck in oxygen.

Nightmare, you think immediately, but then, noticing the intense pressure in your core as your brain iss moving further towards consciousness, nope, definitely not a nightmare.

You blink your eyes open, disoriented by the darkness in front of you and a weird rushing sound. For a moment, you have no idea where you are until you angle your head up and recognize the roof of the Impala. A few seconds later, you realize that the roaring is rain coming down on the roof of the car.

You feel shaky, but also weirdly grounded. Warm and comfortable. Pushing yourself up on your elbow, you look around.

The car is still standing in front of hot mom’s house, the memory of which is slowly coming back to you. Sam is in the front seat, his back leaned into the angle of the door and the front bench. He's looking down and when you press yourself up higher, you see that he has a huge leather bound tome on his lap, one hand slightly angling it so he can read it by the soft light of his flashlight he is holding with his other hand.

The reason the flashlight is on is not just because it's raining, but because it has gone dark, the only other light a street lamp somewhere nearby.

You run your hand over your face, trying to rub some of the sleep from it.

“Dean not back yet?” you ask.

You half expect Sam to flinch, considering how deep he is usually absorbed in his reading, but he doesn't.

“Uh, nope,” he says, only throwing you a very quick look, immediately looking back at his book. Your breathing has slowed down but when you touch your face you feel that it's hot.

“Oh,” you say, then swallow, hoping you sound normal. “Good for you, Allison.”

Sam chuckles, but it's forced. Maybe you would notice earlier that he's acting weird if you didn't look at him then, at his profile, bringing the details of your dream back to you.

It's only splinters, but it's enough to make your face feel even hotter immediately.

You dreamed about Sam. His mouth, and his hands, sucking against your throat and gripping your hair. His broad back over you, and his narrow hips moving, pushing…

You have to move your legs when you realize you're pushing your thighs together, the remnants of what you're pretty sure was the orgasm you had in your sleep coming alive immediately.

You push yourself up further to a sitting position, throwing another look at Sam quickly. He isn't looking back at you, but his jaw is clenched, the hands holding the book gripping the edges hard. Oh no. Oh no no no.

Did you make noises that told him what you were dreaming about? Did you say anything that might have given away that you were dreaming about him? Does he know that you…?

“Shit,” you mutter, involuntarily.

“Hmm?” Sam says, still not looking up.

“Nothing,” you say way too quickly. You move your legs and suddenly in abject horror wonder if Sam might be able to tell that you were still aroused, smell your sweat or your wetness, so you quickly pull your legs up, tugging your arms over your knees.

Silence, then, horrible awkward silence that makes your head spin and then makes you think of your dream-Sam again, the noises he made, like the ones the real-Sam makes when he's hurt or angry, and you wonder if that was how he sounded.

You take a sharp breath to dispel the thoughts. You are making this a lot worse for yourself, you think.

The silence continues, the only sound the rain and your breathing and your heartbeat in your ears. It's deafening. Looking back at Sam, you see that his tongue is going over his lower lip, his brow knotted in concentration.

“What are you reading?” you ask finally, unable to stand it anymore. This time Sam does flinch.

“Uhm, uh,” he stutters and then he actually slightly turns over the front cover of the book because he has to look at it to see what he's reading. Weird, you think. He looked so concentrated.

“It’s, uh,” he continues, “a history of this underground society that basically, uhm,” he looks at the page again, seemingly completely forgetting what this underground society did. While he's still looking for the answer, you chuckle a little.

“Sounds like it’s real engaging,” you can't help but tease him. Sam grins.

“It is,” he says. “I mean it was.” You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't.

“Let me see?” you say, holding your hand out to him. Sam usually loves it when you show interest in whatever he's obsessing over that week, but he looks up and then at you with shock on his face.

“No,” he says. You wrinkle your brow.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s just,” Sam says, “I don’t think you’d like it.”

"What are you talking about?” you ask. “I love cults, or societies or whatever, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam says, “I just don’t think you’d like this one.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, then, forgetting your worries about your body, lean forward, over the bench and pull the book from his hands. Sam doesn't fight you, but fidgets in his seat when you sit back, leaning forward a little. You look at the book, keeping it open at the page Sam was on.

“This even has illustrations,” you say, then look up at Sam. “Sam, I’m a sucker for illustrations, what do you mean I wouldn’t like this?” Sam doesn't reply immediately, just clears his throat.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more quiet. “I know.”

He isn't making any sense, so you lean forward and pass the book back to him. He's just grabbing for it when you look down.

There's a considerable bulge in Sam’s pants.

You immediately lean back, but Sam knows you’ve seen it. He lays the book back over his lap, his lips in a tight line, looking anywhere but at you.

The brothers and you live so closely together that this shouldn’t be a big deal. You’ve seen Dean in several states of undress and walked in on him and a hook-up more times than you can count.

But Sam has always been more private, more considerate, you might say. He changes his clothes where you can't see, even though, if you're being really honest, you want to see. It has gotten to the point where seeing him in a t-shirt sometimes gets you flustered, so starved are you for seeing more of him.

So this, while it shouldn’t be, feels like a big deal. A big deal. You chew the inside of your lip and that awful silence is back.

“Sam,” you say, and he immediately says: “Don’t, okay?” His tone is gentle, though. “This is really embarrassing, I feel like a damn teen.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” you reply, because it really isn't, thinking of your own little excitement mishap. To tell the truth, the thought that Sam is sitting there, hard, is not helping you calm down any.

Hoping to make things less awkward for him, you say: “I mean, illustrations get me going, too.” Sam looks up, and then understands a second later. He looks away, grimaces, and some of the discomfort seems to dissipate from him.

“Wasn’t the illustrations that did this,” he says, a small bashful smile on his lips.

“Oooh,” you say, nodding. “Hot mom Allison and her record collection?” Sam actually chuckles, and you feel proud of yourself. Crisis averted. Now you can just go back to pining for Sam without the chance that anything is ever going to come of it.

But then he shakes his head, and his expression turns serious.

“Wasn’t her either,” he replies, his voice quiet. Then he looks at you, his head slightly turned to the side. “What did you dream about?”

A wave of heat goes through you. So you did make some noises. Goddamn it. A flash of dreaming about Sam kissing you roughly goes through your head, his lips bruising yours. But maybe you just made general noises, dream noises. Maybe you can convince him it was a nightmare.

“Uh, not sure,” you say, and it's your turn to stutter now. “Why, did I, like, say anything?” Sam licks his lip, still looking at you. You se him swallow, his throat moving.

“Uhm, you were kind of sighing? And, and,” Sam clears his throat, then continues. “And your body was really tensing up, and I thought maybe it was a nightmare but then you… moaned?” Sam looks down at his lap where the book is. So much for your amazing plan.

“Oh,” you say, pretending this is surprising you. “Sounds like a fun dream.” Like you don't remember the warm waves going through you when you woke up, the lightness and then the delicious heaviness. Sam nods.

“You were also kind of, uhm,” he continues, and you're not sure why he is telling you all this, why he can't just downplay this like you did his stupid boner. “You were also kind of…writhing. And moving your hips a lot. And your face was…” Sam swallows again. “You had this expression that was really sexy.”

Your mouth drops open. Sexy?

Sam keeps going: “It looked like you were in pain for a second and then it was gone and it just looked…sexy.” He’s said it twice now and you feel heat go through you. What is he even saying?

Sam licks his lips again, the short view of the muscle making you press your lips together, and then he looks back at you. “And I guess I was maybe watching you and listening to you and that’s what lead to this whole situation.”

Your breathing is going heavy and you wondered if Sam notices. What is going on with you might generally be easier to hide than what Sam has going on, but you're pretty sure that right then it is clear as daylight. Sam is hard because he listened to you having your sexy little dream. The dream that was about him. Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick. How are you going to ever deal with that?

“I’m—I’m flattered,” you say quietly. Sam smiles a little.

“It doesn’t weird you out?” he asks carefully. You shake your head.

“No, it’s actually kind of appropriate,” you reply. Sam frowns.

“Appropriate?” he asks. You can't help but grin, suddenly feeling a little mischievous. “Yeah, cause the dream I had was about you.”

Well, it's out there now, that's for certain. You watch Sam’s reaction, wondering if he's about to be the one who's weirded out. But he isn't. He keeps looking at you and you notice that his breathing has gotten heavier too. Something twitches in his jaw and he leans one arm on the back of the front bench. Just lying there, not doing anything, but its closeness, seeing his hand splayed there causes a reaction in you that you did not anticipate.

You press your legs together where you still hold them against you, and Sam’s eyes shoot down for just a moment, tracking the movement. Then he looks up at your face again.

“What was I doing,” he asks, voice low, “in the dream?” Your teeth find your lip at his words, the need to press down on something strong in you suddenly. This is happening. This is really happening.

“You… were touching me,” you say.

“Where?” Sam asks. His voice isn't shaky at all, it's steady, confident suddenly, which is not something you would have expected from him. You try to remember the dream, thinking for a second.

“Everywhere,” you say. “But you started with my face.”

Sam’s eyes meet yours then and both of you look at each other for a moment. You feel your eyelids flutter at your renewed arousal, the heat between your legs becoming uncomfortable. Sam nods.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks, voice still steady but breathing harder. You move your shoulders.

“I do,” you say, “but it’s making me, uhm, it’s making me a little…”

Sam nods again. “Me too.”

There's silence for a moment again, and then Sam and you notice at the same time that you're rocking yourself against the bench beneath you. You stop immediately, but Sam says in the same moment: “Keep going.”

Fuck. You really want to. You really want to but this was so…

Shouldn’t you kiss first? Go on a date? Hold hands? You're not sure about any of this, only that Sam is looking at you and that you want to touch yourself.

“Are you gonna...?” you ask, too nervous to say more.

Sam nods. “If that’s okay with you?” Oh wow, is it ever okay with you. You nod.

Sam’s arm over the back of the bench doesn't move, but you can see the shoulder of his other arm does. He turns the flashlight off, the light from the street light still letting you see him, then you hear the flash light fall to the floor, and his arm keeps moving.

So you push your ass further down on the bench, meaning your legs are angled away from you a little, then let your hand slip between them, pushed into your jeans. It's a tight fit and there's another layer of clothing in-between but when you press down your lower body twitches in response.

Sam is still watching you, not saying anything, but you see his shoulder moving.

“Tell me,” he finally says, his voice so quiet as to be difficult to hear over the rain outside.

“We were,” you start, “in bed. It was a huge bed, not some dingy motel room. Nice white linen and sheets and, and we were both naked.”

Sam breathes in through his nose, and you press down on yourself again, another shudder going through you. Jesus, you're sensitive right now.

“It was, uhm, it was like snippets, cause it was a dream,” you explain, and Sam nods, his eyes not leaving your face. “But in one of them, you were over me. And you were kissing my neck, sort of rough and gentle at the same time.”

“What were you doing?” Sam asks.

“I was… My head was leaned back and my eyes were closed and my hands were in your hair, holding on to you.”

“And?” Sam asks.

“And,” you reply, your fingers having found a rhythm while you're still rocking yourself against the seat. “And you were fucking me.”

Sam closes his eyes for a few seconds, a low moan escaping him.

“Did you like it?” he asks, his voice sounding a little cracked now. Holy shit, it's the most erotic thing you've ever heard in your life. Sam, the master of self-control and decency, losing it at the wet dream you had about him.

“I loved it,” you say, your own voice a little breathy. “You were big and solid and fucking me hard and making me come.”

Sam’s shoulder starts moving faster.

“I want to do that,” he says, almost panting. “I want to make you come.”

Your own rhythm is picking up, your fingers pressing hard against you, and you can feel an almost violent knot of pleasure building in you.

“Do it, Sam,” you say, and your other hand going to your breast, finding the nipple and pinching it through the fabric.

“I want to see that face you made,” Sam pants. “Really hear you, hear you say my name when you come.”

He looks into your eyes then and your vision almost becomes blurry. “I want to feel you come while I’m inside of you.”

Then your body is tensing, everything pulling inwards, your eyes squeezing shut and a pained sounding noise leaves you, and a second later your head falls back on the bench, a sob of "oh God" leaving you as wave after wave of intense pleasure rolls through you.

You're breathing hard, eyelids heavy but then your eyes fly open when your hear Sam curse under his breath.

“Fuck,” he says, and you look at him just in time to see him also squeeze his eyes shut, his shoulders drawing up and his face making the most beautiful expression you have ever seen. He groans once and then lays his head back, panting, features full of bliss, all tension gone from him.

You're both quiet for a while, letting your bodies calm down, your breathing adjust.

After a few minutes, you see Sam move out of your half-closed eyes, and he's looking at you again.

“Holy shit,” he says, his face unbelieving. You can't help but laugh.

“Holy shit indeed,” you respond. He grins at you, lopsided. Then his attention is drawn away, and he opens the glove box, rummaging around for a second. He pulls something from it and holds it up for a second, a shy smile on his face. It's a box of tissues.

“Gotta clean up,” he mumbles, pulling a few tissues out and then throwing the box back into the glove box. You see him move his arms, a concentrated look on his face as you study at his features, watch at him move.

“I think I’ll skip the cleaning process,” you say after a while, “and go straight for new underwear.” Sam grins again.

“I know I didn’t do anything,” he says and seems to be finished with what he's been doing. “But why does that feel like such a compliment?” Now it's your turn to grin.

“Believe me, Sam,” you say, “it is a compliment.”

He looks back up at you, his boyish grin slowly dropping from his face.

“Do you,” he says, suddenly seeming nervous again, “want to maybe, uhm, have dinner with me some time? I mean I know we have dinner together all the time, but I mean, like a….”

He falters for a second, so you finish his sentence. “A date?”

Sam nods. “A date.”

“I think we did this the wrong way around,” you say, instead of answering. “I think you’re supposed to have dinner first and then come at the same time.”

Sam’s laugh surprises and thrills you.

“I guess it’s a little untraditional,” he says, nodding.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Sam,” you reply, and he beams at you, making you want to kiss him. So you do. Despite what you had just done, it still makes you nervous.

You lean forward, pushing yourself up until you're up to the front bench. Sam moves forward as well when he realizes what you're doing and then your lips met.

The angle is awkward, the bench pressing against your boobs and when Sam tries to get his hand up to cup your face he has to first turn his upper body, break the kiss and then lean in again.

It's perfect. It's just awkward and uncoordinated as a first kiss should be, no matter what else you have done.

When you stop kissing, you faces still close, you grin at each other like idiots. You kiss Sam's cheek, just because you felt like it.

Suddenly the light outside changes and you both turn to look. It's hot mom’s porch light and a second later you see Dean come outside and jog down towards the car, collar up to stop the rain from getting in.

You lean back on the bench, and Sam turns again, pretending he's sitting normally in his seat.

Dean makes it to the driver’s side, quickly opens the door and sits inside, making a few drops of rain spray everywhere.

“Now,” he says, closing the door behind him. “That little bit of waiting wasn’t so bad, was it? You kids have fun?”

There's silence for a moment, then Sam picks up the book from where it has apparently fallen into the foot well on his side.

“Yeah,” he says. “We entertained ourselves.”

Dean opens his mouth, probably to make fun of his brother’s nerdiness, but then closes it again. He sniffs. Your body tenses and you see Sam’s do the same.

“Did you guys screw in here?” Dean asks, eyebrows high and eyes narrowed.

“No!” you and Sam say at the same time. It's technically true, depending on your definition of screwing. Dean looks back at you and then at Sam, suspicion on his face.

“Mmh hmm,” he says, then looks forward, starting the car. Sam throws a quick look back at you and you have to suppress your grin.

Once you've been driving down the dark roads for a few minutes, Sam puts his arm back over the back of the front bench. Instead of laying it on top, however, he lets his arm dangle over it, letting it swing until his hand finds your leg. When he does, he squeezes it.

You bring your hand forward as much as you can without moving, hoping not to draw any attention to yourself. Finding Sam's big, warm hand, you lay yours over it, gently stroking it with your thumb.

You look up, and Sam is grinning in the dark.

#dawn recommends #supernatural

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backseatconfessions · 3 months ago

Text

Sammys's girl

a/n: Hey. It’s been a minute, huh? Almost four years, lol. Well, I thought I’d write something small again, and what better way to get back into it than with a little piece about Dean fucking Winchester? The Winchester brothers are my current drug, so you can expect more of that to come. Enjoy!

summary: Pressing his ear against the wall, Dean’s mind swirled with a whirlwind of emotions he never expected to feel. His brother Sam, the one person he’s always protected, was now with someone Dean couldn’t stop thinking about. The sounds from the next room making his chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and something far more dangerous.

warnings: Jealousy, Inappropriate thoughts about a sibling’s partner, Sexual content, Mature themes, Explicit language, Emotional conflict, Tension and discomfort

Dean Winchester had never been jealous of Sam’s love life. Why would he? There had never been a reason for it. Dean had always done his own thing, taken his life as a hunter for what it was—restless, dangerous, with no room for commitments. Relationships in this job were nothing but a ticking time bomb, so he never even considered them. One-night stands were easier. No strings, no complications. No drama, no risk, no heartbreak.

And then you came along.

The brothers had met you on a hunt. At first, you were just some stranger, a witness with too many questions. Then you became an ally. And before Dean even realized it, you were just… there. Always. What had initially seemed like an unnecessary burden—one more person to protect, one more soul to lose to this life—turned out to be a damn blessing. You weren’t helpless. Quite the opposite. You were sharp, capable, unafraid to challenge Dean. At some point, it became natural to have you sitting in the backseat.

But then something changed.

Dean knew his brother better than he knew himself. He noticed the shift in Sam’s gaze the moment it happened—how his eyes softened when they landed on you. And worse, he saw the same change in yours.

He told himself he didn’t care. That it didn’t matter. Maybe it just bugged him that you two had kept it a secret for so long. Yeah, that had to be it—the secrecy. The feeling of being left out. But then it wasn’t a secret anymore. And Dean realized that the deception hadn’t been the thing tying his stomach in knots. It was the way Sam held you. The way you leaned into him, like he was your damn home.

Dean was happy for his brother. Really. After everything they’d been through, Sam deserved happiness. But fuck if it didn’t eat him alive every time he saw Sam’s hand wrapped around yours. Every time he had to watch you kiss him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to you. It burned, but Dean said nothing. He wasn’t the kind of guy to let anyone see when something cut too deep. So he shoved the feeling down, just like he did with everything else that had the power to hurt him. He laughed louder, teased Sam harder, played the cool big brother while feeling like a goddamn idiot inside.

Because for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester wanted something he couldn’t have. Not that he’d ever admit it. Dean Winchester wasn’t jealous of his little brother. Not once. So why the hell did it feel like his stomach twisted into knots every time he caught you looking at Sam? Laughing at his jokes, even the bad ones. Reaching for his hand without even thinking. Giving him those looks—those damn looks Dean had never gotten, not from someone like you. Of course, it ended up like this. Sam was the one with the college brain, the stupidly perfect smile, the goddamn puppy eyes. Sam had always been the guy women actually wanted. Not like Dean, who was good for a night but never for more.

And maybe that was the real reason it gnawed at him. Because you weren’t just anyone. Because if things had been different—if life had played out another way—maybe, just maybe, you could’ve been his.

Dean didn’t dwell on what-ifs. That was a surefire way to lose your mind in this life. But damn if they didn’t creep in anyway. Late at night, when the motel room was too quiet, when the whiskey wasn’t enough to drown out the thoughts he didn’t want to have.

Maybe, if he wasn’t so damn good at pushing people away, he would’ve done something about the way you made his chest tighten. Maybe, if he had just fucking tried—

But it didn’t matter.

You weren’t his.

You were Sam’s.

And Dean Winchester never stole from family.

So he swallowed it down, let the bitterness settle deep in his bones, and kept moving forward like he always did. Because that’s what he was good at—taking the hits, standing back up, pretending it didn’t hurt.

But some nights, when sleep wouldn’t come, he let himself wonder.

If things had been different… would you have ever looked at him the way you looked at Sam?

And if you had—would he have let himself have you?

He couldn’t help but sink even deeper into those thoughts. If you had been his—how would your skin have felt beneath his fingertips? What soft, sweet sounds would you have made if he had touched you just right? Dean felt no shame as his hand wrapped itself around his dick. Ever since you and Sam had gotten together, you always took your own motel room. So there was no reason not to let himself indulge. A quiet groan escaped him at the thought that it was your soft hand touching him—not his own.

He imagined your lips parting ever so slightly, just enough to let soft, breathy moans slip past them. His strokes grew quicker and he was panting hard. If he closed his eyes and focused hard enough, he could almost see your big, innocent eyes locked on him. He could almost hear the soft sounds slipping from your lips—until it hit him that he wasn’t imagining them at all. They were real and they were coming from the room next to his.

Had you and Sam been together like that? It never crossed his mind before—probably because thinking about his brother being intimate just wasn’t something he ever did. And rightfully so.

What Dean did next, was something he’d take to his grave.

He pushed the thought of his brother aside and pressed his ear to the wall. Now he could hear you, clear and unmistakable.

“Fuck, Sammy…”, you moaned. “Always making me feel so good…”

Dean visibly winced at those words, but the next thing you said made him shut his eyes.

“Please, please, please… Ruin me, Winchester.”

There he was, standing in his motel room, his ear pressed against the wall that connected to yours, stroking himself to the sounds of you being pleasured. Dean imagined himself between your legs. He’d eat your pussy like a starved man, worship your body in every way imaginable. He’d take his time, tracing every curve of your body, his hands exploring with a slow, deliberate touch, seeking out the places that would make you gasp, make you shiver. Each soft caress would be a silent question, testing, learning, until he found the exact spot that would have you melting under his touch. He was drawn to the idea of hearing you lose yourself in the pleasure, curious to see how far he could push you, wanting to hear the highest, most breathless note you could reach.

He’d savor the moments, the way your breath hitched with every shift of his fingers, how your body would arch toward him, craving more. It was like an unspoken dance, each movement a step closer to the edge, both of you lost in the rhythm of it all.

The sounds from the other side of the wall were enough to drive him mad. Every moan, every breathy exhale of yours was a trigger, setting off a chain reaction in him he couldn’t control. And it wasn’t just the physical sound—it was the feeling behind it, the way it seemed to echo in his mind, a constant reminder of what he couldn’t have.

He came hard, coating the wall. Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this, wasn’t supposed to want this. It didn’t matter how badly his body reacted to the sound of you. Dean pulled his ear away from the wall, the heat still simmering inside him, but the reality of it crashing down like cold water. This wasn’t right. He’d gone too far—had let his mind wander where it shouldn’t have. His brother was happy, and that should’ve been enough for him. But why the hell did it feel like a betrayal of something deeper than he was willing to admit? He turned away, stumbling back toward the bed, his mind racing. This feeling—this burn—wasn’t something he could ignore forever. But for now, he’d have to. For now, he’d bury it. Just like everything else.

#Dean Winchester x Reader #Sam Winchester x Reader #Jealous Dean #Supernatural Fanfic #Jealousy #Angst #Smut #Hurt/Comfort #Brotherhood #Reader Insert #Dean's POV #Unrequited Love #Secret Relationship

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backseatconfessions · 3 months ago

Text

what i say goes

a/n: ...i didn't really mean for this to turn out so cum focused, but oh well, it's not like i'm complaining about the result, it's stupid hot, it was just kind of an accident lol. whoops, welcome to cum city i guess. apparently i am your mayor.

summary: sucking in a sharp breath, your weary head lifted slightly to make out in the low light, streaming in from the hallway through the open door, who it instead could be that had stirred you from your dreams because they couldn’t resist having a midnight snack.

warnings: frat!ari levinson x innocent!reader x frat!andy barber, stepbro!steve rogers, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, college au, polyamory, kissing, corruption kink, somno, fucking while someone else is alseep in the bed right next to them, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, orgasm denial, edging, squirting, impact play, pain kink, oral, fingering, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 4294

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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A strangled whine crawled its way out of your lungs as you were drawn out of your slumber. Half asleep, it took you a while to realise that the sensation tickling at your core wasn’t a part of some dream. Goosebumps prickled your flesh as you noticed the duvet had been peeled from your naked form.

“S-Steve…” you hazily slurred, eyes still shut as your legs faintly shifted against the burly form, slotted in between them. A hot mouth was latched on your clit, still all sensitive and swollen how your stepbrother had railed you to sleep.

As he sucked down harder, his beard rubbing your petals raw, your quivering hole clenched around nothing, causing another drop to leak out of the cum Steve had greedily filled you up with before he’d flopped down on the bed beside you and passed out nearly as quickly as you had.

Though as his silky tongue swirled over your puffy pearl, sloppily making out with your sore cunt, your tired eyes finally blinked open, just enough for you to vaguely take in the dark surroundings of Steve��s room. But then when your head began to tilt to the side, twisting on the pillow from the scorching kisses smothering your tiny bundle of aching nerves, your squinted vision landed on your stepbrother, still softly snoring on the mattress beside you.

Sucking in a sharp breath, your weary head lifted slightly to make out in the low light, streaming in from the hallway through the open door, who it instead could be that had stirred you from your dreams because they couldn’t resist having a midnight snack.

Your cunt immediately throbbed beneath his ravenous tongue as your gaze discovered that the man lying on his stomach, snugly between your thighs, was none other than the president of the fraternity.

However, as soon as his eyes found your panicked ones in the dark, the quick reflexes that had made him a legend on the football field allowed him to then soar up and clasp a broad hand over your lips.

“Shut the fuck up,” he swiftly hissed, his eyes scanning your own as you panted behind his palm. Hovering above you, he murmured, “don’t scream, okay?” before a faint nod then slowly tilted your head.

“…Ari?” you whispered when he then slowly slipped his hand from your mouth, “wh-what are you doing?”

“Doing my taxes,” his eyes on you promptly narrowed brashly to a squint, “what do you think I’m doing?”

Shifting carefully to glance back over at Steve sleeping directly next to you both, you muttered, “but–”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Ari arrogantly cut in.

“What?” you still struggled to comprehend the reality you’d woken up to, “I–”

“Hey, I am in charge around here,” he caught your chin and tilted your head back, forcing your wide eyes back upon him, “what I say goes, so I can do anything I fucking want, and what I want, is you,” he gazed down at you as if you were the only two in the bed, “and I say that your big stepbrother has kept you to himself for way too long. So what if he said that none of us could have you yet.”

“He did what?” you gasped, your eyes briefly flying back to Steve’s broad back twisted towards you.

“Oh, he’s just being greedy,” a shiver ran down your spine as he then pushed himself up to sit back on his knees, before his fingers then caught the waistband of his boxers, and he tugged them down enough for his hard cock to spring free of its binds and smack into his lower abs, “just don’t tell him… not that I think he’d actually do anything about it, I mean, what would he do? Deny his president? Not in a million fucking years. He knows better than to say no to me.”

“…but what if Steve gets mad at me…” you blinked up at him as your stomach threatened to coil into aching knots.

A bright grin then twisted up his features as he peered down at you, his girth throbbing in his grasp as he purred, “who in their right mind could ever be mad at you, huh?” before he then tilted closer and dragged the bulbous tip of him through the glistening seam of your cunt, making you whine softly into the night.

“Alright,” you panted, “but just please be gentle,” your eyes flickered down to catch sight of his dick nudging against your puffy pussy, “I’m still really sore…”

“Really?” a dark chuckle quietly slipped from his lips, “because to me, it looks like she wants it rough. She wants me to be mean to her, bully her so good, just like she deserves,” he smirked at the way that you squirmed as he tapped the weight of him against your petals, before then sweeping down to smear against the cream still slowly leaking out of your wrecked fuckhole, “look at that… shit, he sure did leave you fucking messy…”

“B-but–, ah!” he narrowly managed to cover your mouth again as he suddenly slammed the entirety of his length inside of you, using the sticky load already inside of you as lube.

“See?” a sickening squelch echoed throughout your stepbrother’s room as Ari then brashly rolled his hips, “doesn’t that feel better?”

As you struggled to wrangle the moan that his impulsivity had forced out of your lungs, you tugged his hand away from your lips, just enough for you to squeak breathlessly, “o-oh my g-god! A-Ari! It’s too–, fuck!”

But your whining only made him smirk as he continued to stare down at how you clenched around his fat girth, “damn, I thought you’d already been broken in! Apparently not good enough,” he then snapped his hips with more force, fucking through your tightness.

“It's so much, it’s too much–”

“Shh, shut up,” he clambered a palm back over your mouth as moans began to bubble up your throat, “be fucking quiet and take it,” he growled as he sloped down over you till his lips nearly skimmed against the back of his own hand, firmly clasped over the lower half of your face, “toys don’t talk.”

You could barely keep your eyes open as your body jostled on the mattress at the rhythm of his greedy pace.

“Holy fucking shit, you’re fucking strangling me here… gonna make me cum in no time,” he groaned, “such a perfect little pussy. What is this, your third time–, maybe fourth, that a cock’s stretched this tiny baby cunt out?” he croaked before you shakily held up six of your fingers in the sliver of space between you, “oh, this is only your number six, huh? He’s fucked you five times already and you still feel like this? Damn…” his hefty balls smack against your slick skin, “and you just let your big stepbro cum inside of your pretty pussy too, fuck… pump you full of cum… you gonna let me do that too, huh? Yeah, you are, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll fuck his load out of you first, before I fill you up…”

Ari then abruptly pulled out only to smack the palm, that wasn’t plastered against your mouth, down upon your messy pussy, repeating the swift action till you were dripping even more and he then once more buried himself in your warmth. Though after the harsh stings, once his thick dick was yet again plugging you up, your cunt couldn’t help but clamper down around him.

“Look at you,” he swiftly began to chuckle, “you’re fucking squirting already?” his pace didn’t slow in the slightest as you gushed messily around his girth, “who the fuck gave you permission to squirt all over my cock, huh? Bad fucking girl. You just can’t help yourself from making a cute little mess, huh?” he kept on fucking you through it, dragging out your orgasm for what felt like an eternity as your body convulsed beneath him, “did I tell you that you could fucking do that? Did I tell you that you could cum? No,” his words barely seeped through your haze, “so you don’t fucking do it. Hold it, ask for permission, don’t fucking pull that shit again with me or you’ll regret it,” his intense stare imprisoned your weak gaze before he then sighed, “well, since nobody else has bothered to, I guess I’ll just have teach you some self-control myself…”

Just then, your stepbrother suddenly shifted in his sleep, rolling onto his back and shifting just a tad bit closer to you both. Each of you froze up at once as your eyes darted off to the side, Ari’s broad hand still pressed over your mouth.

And when the frat boy that stretched you out was sure that Steve was still asleep, he then began to pick his pace back up, gradually working his way back to the fevered rhythm he’d granted himself previously.

Some movement then caught your vision, as out of the corner of your eye, someone passed by out in the hallway, before the figure then circled back to eclipse the doorway.

“Fucking shit!” you then heard Ari moan quietly as he came undone, “that little pussy’s too fucking good, damn…” he finally slipped his palm away from your lips to instead smother them with a breathless kiss.

“A-Ari?” you then patted his wide shoulder once the peck had ceased, before you weakly pointed to the figure by the door.

“Oh,” Ari simply exhaled when he twisted his neck to spot who was standing in the threshold, “hey, Andy,” he smiled at his right-hand man, “enjoying the show?”

“Is he fucking sleeping?” Andy whispered as he nodded to Steve in the bed beside you both, “holy shit…”

“Wait, why are you–,” a gasp slipped from your lungs as you glanced to Ari, “I thought this was supposed to be a secret.”

“Oh, Andy’s just Andy,” he simply shrugged, “my vice president won’t run his mouth if I don’t let him,” he uttered before glancing back over his shoulder, “will you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Andy’s head gently shook.

Blinking between them a moment as you fought not to drown in the shock that washed over you, the two men kept up their alarmingly casual tone as Ari then offered.

“You want a go? I already lubed her up for you,” and it took you a second for it to sink in that he was referring to the hot load that he’d just spilt into you, his cock still plugging you up and keeping his seed inside.

“Not in here,” Andy shook his head as he smirked in your direction, “I wanna hear her squeal and moan for it…”

As Ari then got up from the bed, causing the mattress to dip enough for you to shoot a nervous glance to your slumbering stepbrother, he then picked you up and draped you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, one of your palms quickly soaring up to clasp over your mouth to muffle the yelp that promptly bubbled out at his manhandling.

Carrying you out to the hallway and into his own bedroom directly to the right at the very end of the corridor, he then dropped you down the bed in the middle of the room. For a moment as he let himself loom above you, standing tall at the foot of the mattress, the wild look in his eye made you think that he was about to ravage you all over again, but instead, to your amazement, his feet then began to shift away from you before he took a seat in the chair by his desk, swirling it around for his stare to stay glued on you.

Shutting the door behind him, Andy then stripped off his clothes, each long step that carried him closer towards where you lied cost a single item of clothing. Once no more fabric covered his burly frame, he propped a knee up onto the mattress before joining you on the bed.

Parting your thighs, he craned down to get an embarrassingly close look at your pussy. His touch sneaked up to ghost the broad pad of a thumb over your messy folds, making you jump slightly in sensitivity as his thick finger shifted down to your entrance, slowly leaking with Ari’s cum, “so fucking pretty…” he murmured before his digit stuffed some of the jizz back inside your haven.

Andy then layed down beside you before he dragged your exhausted form up on top of his own.

His grip drug into your hips as he then huffed, “well, go on,” before his broad palm swiftly collided with your bottom, “that dick isn’t gonna ride itself.”

“Huh?” you panted as the sinful situation you’d woken up to had you feeling as if you were still dreaming.

“Have you seriously already fucked that brain out of her?” the man below you shot a brief look over your shoulder at Ari.

“Well, she was kind of already half broken when I found her,” the frat’s president shrugged, “but sure, I’ll gladly take the credit.”

Sweeping his hands up your frame, Andy then captured your face and tilted it for your eyes to feebly find his, “sink that little pussy down on my cock, sweetheart,” he repeated in a clear yet impatient tone.

Blindly, you clumsily reached down between your bodies as you shakily raised yourself up just enough to let your arm pass. As you found his hard length, your cheek smooshed further into his palm as he held your face steady before him instead of allowing it to crash down onto his chest, letting himself absorb and revel in each little twitch that flickered over your features as you nudged the tip of his dick against your opening.

Weakly rubbing the thick cockhead against your dripping core, you then finally made your hips tilt, but just as the very tip of him carefully popped inside, you then lost your balance and came crashing down against him, the entire length of him slamming inside of you in one fell swoop.

He didn’t seem to care how the tumble had knocked the wind right out of you or how whines escaped you as you tried to catch your breath, your poor pussy fluttering around him in an effort to comprehend the sudden stretch.

“Come on,” he let go of your head to smack your butt, “bounce that ass for me.”

And though you shakily tried, it was without success.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimpered against his chest, “I can’t…”

“What? You can’t fuck yourself on my cock?” he uttered in a mocking tone.

“It’s too much, I can’t, my legs they–,” your thighs quivered on either side of his hips as you fruitlessly attempted to raise yourself up once again, “I’m sorry…”

“Aw, baby…” his thumb briefly found your cheek in a soft stroke, “look at you… too fucking exhausted to work for that nut, huh?” he ushered your hazy gaze to find his own as he peered down at you, melted down against his pecs, “but you want it, don’t you? You wanna be a good little cumslut and take my load as well, right? Or else you’ll just hurt my feelings…”

“No, I do,” your words slurred slightly as you blinked up at him. Though you feared your poor body wasn’t able to keep going, the burning desire not to make the devastatingly handsome man that you lied upon even a little bit sad, drove you to murmur, “I’m sorry, I just can’t–, ughh!” before his grip then dented your ass and he began to move your hips for you.

“Well then I guess I’ll just take care of it myself,” he croaked as he began to fuck Ari’s cum deeper inside of you, “I’ve got you,” he simply smirked as he let you smother your face further into his chest, almost as if you were trying to bury yourself and hide from the intenseness as he kept on rocking you on top of him, “you can just rest.”

The pattern he rapidly formed, of lifting your hips all the way up before sinking your pussy right back down onto his cock, was then shattered as his own hips began to move beneath you, bucking up into your warmth till you felt your eyes begin to roll in your skull.

“Ari…” you weakly whined against Andy’s skin as even you began to hear how your cunt squelched sinfully each time the details of his cock dragged against your g-spot.

“Yes, baby?” you heard from the other side of the room.

“I think I’m gonna cum again,” you nearly cried as you dug your teeth into your bottom lip, “can I–… can I, please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he huffed, “sure, go ahead,” before you then squirted again, your quivering hole even forcing Andy’s dick out completely as your pussy continued to gush, “that’s it… that’s my girl…” Ari groaned before his fellow frat boy reached down to slip his cock right back in, only allowing you to be free of his girth for what felt like a second before he buried himself once more, although Andy did grant you the serenity of staying still once he’d sunk you back down onto his length, “and what do you say now?” you heard Ari fish.

“Hm?” you hummed weakly as your velvety walls spasmed around Andy’s cock.

“I just let you fucking cum, so what do you say?”

Your brow briefly knit together as you tried to scramble your foggy brain, “…t-thank you?”

“Thank you, what?”

“Thank you, Ari?” you tried in an unsure voice.

“Well, I guess that’s good enough for now,” he chuckled lightly, “can always make you call me your president or sir another day,” his stare on your cunt then intensified, marvelling at how you clenched around Andy’s dick, “fuck… how does she feel right now? Because that pussy’s grip around your cock looks so fucking tight,” you could vaguely hear the slick passes of his fist as Ari was once again painfully hard and stroking his length.

“Dude, it’s insane…” Andy puffed beneath you, resisting the urge to pound through the throbbing descent of your high, “you wanna tap in again?”

And the next thing you then knew, Ari had shot up from his seat before he’d plucked your frame off of Andy as if you were just a little doll in his grasp. Standing tall as he picked you up into his burly arms, a yelp then tumbled past your lips as he didn’t just readjust you in his grasp, but instead tossed you up even higher till he had you balanced on his shoulders and his face once again was buried against your puffy pussy for another taste. As he messily sucked your sore clit into his mouth, you feared momentarily that he might drop you, even though his strong grip on you stayed steady.

As he safely slipped you back down and tangled your weak legs around his hips, he then began to guide you back down onto his cock, splitting you open all over again for him.

With his massive hands spread out wide beneath your ass, he sank you down upon him before lifting your frame back up, limp and trembling in his flexing arms. But then as the tenderness of your most recent high lingered and exacerbated the soreness that had already been aching ever since your stepbrother had fucked your last night, the agonising overstimulation brought on by Ari’s merciless efforts caused you to crumble even further and begin to cry, something that you didn’t notice till the man cradling you cockily pointed out.

“Oh fuck…” to your horror, he somehow grew even harder inside of you as he spotted the tears that rolled down your cheeks, “that’s so hot,” his next few thrusts then couldn’t help but snap roughly against you.

“What?” Andy murmured as he got up from the bed.

“Look, she’s crying,” Ari smiled as you let your head fall to rest against his broad shoulder, “I love a girl who cries when it gets too much for her.”

“Yeah? Is it too much, huh?” Andy crept closer before one of his hands snaked in between your forms to momentarily bully your swollen clit, “can that little pussy not take it anymore?” he slipped his fingers away again, awaiting an answer, though try as you might, only a moan came tumbling off your lips, “you want us to move on to that little ass instead?”

“N-no!” you somehow managed to whine.

“No?” you felt Ari’s lips press against your temple as he spoke, “you sure? One of us could just stick it in at the end, who knows, you might even be too cockdrunk by now to notice the difference,” he bounced you in his arms as Andy reached out to tug crudely against your pebbly nipples.

“D-don’t, please–”

“But I thought that little pussy was all sore and achy now, right?” Andy tilted his head to get closer to your own, “so don’t you wanna give her a little break? Unless of course you like it when it hurts a little bit.”

“Oh, I bet she does,” Ari chuckled, “dirty little girl like her, spreading her legs for her own stepbrother. She for sure loves it.”

“So then why don’t we just both use that pussy at the same time?” a gasp escaped you Andy then tapped his palm against the soft peaks of your tits, “if you don’t want it up the ass yet, you want us to ruin that cute cunt instead?”

And as you weakly shook your head, drooling against Ari’s shoulder, you then felt a hum rumbled in his chest, “hm,” he pursed his lips as he blinked down at you, “I think that’s a no, unfortunately.”

“Oh well, at least we tried,” Andy respected it begrudgingly.

Shifting you in his hold, you winced slightly as Ari then slipped out of you, though your pussy didn’t get to stay empty for long as Andy swiftly settled in behind you and filled you up instead. Grunting into the back of your neck as his friend kept on holding you up, soon it wasn’t just Andy’s hips that snapped into the plush of your ass, enveloped by Ari’s broad hands, but the president of the frat had also begun bouncing you down to meet Andy’s efforts, offering his aid as he fucked you down upon his friend’s cock.

When they had traded places once again, Andy curved around to where your head stayed melted down against Ari’s shoulder, eyes shut as sobbing moans flowed out of you. Tilting down, he pressed a kiss to your lips, his palm slipping up to the side of your face before the light tap he then patted against your cheek forced your heavy eyelids to flutter back open. A groan slipped from Ari as the brief smack had caused your cunt to clench down around him, rendering him to command his friend to keep going, which Andy happily complied with, his lips stealing brief pecks between the swift slaps he then dealt.

The pattern of their constant switching efficiently edged you, as each time one of them had their go with you, it would cruelly push you painfully close to cumming, before they then would trade places, constantly denying you of that delicious high and granting you just enough of a pause to fall back down again before it all then repeated over and over again till you felt as if you were losing your mind.

But when the pending high crept up on you once again and began to blur your already hazy vision, you finally managed to part your lips and try to beg before Ari could once again deny you and pass your pussy back to his friend, “ca–…can I cum? P-please–”

“No,” his voice felt like a sharp slap against your cheek and caused a strangled sob to slip out past your lips, “not until both of us have gotten our rocks off, you got it?”

You tried your best to suppress it, put a lid over the boiling pot and hope that it didn’t explode as you dug your teeth into Ari’s shoulder in an effort to try and hold on.

Luckily, your torture didn’t stretch on for too long before, one by one, they then spilt their seed inside of you. Andy was the first to pump you full, though his load quickly began to escape as soon as he withdrew his throbbing cock, as you were still cradled so high above the ground that gravity played its part. Though a lot of it did leak out and drip down onto the floor, some still remained inside of you and quickly mixed and mingled when Ari swiftly flooded your haven as well.

Though as soon as his fat cock slipped out of you, Andy wasted no time reaching down and stuffing your drippy and creamy hole full with two of his thick fingers. He swiftly began to rock them inside of you so harshly that a meek cry burst from your lungs as your overly sensitive pussy once again squirted for them, gushing out their cum as well as he kept going until you nearly blacked out.

And then, as your eyes fell shut once again and you exhaustedly melted further into Ari’s strong frame, you heard him murmur against your temple, “okay,” as he pressed a kiss above your brow, “let’s go tug you back into bed, angel.”

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backseatconfessions · 1 year ago

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dark nights

18+

you don't think sharing a room with your lecturers is a big deal. not until professor rogers starts going a little too far with his sleepwalking. thankfully, professor barnes is there to talk you through it.

content warning: dark!steve x f!reader x soft!dark!bucky, age gap, somnophilia, dub/noncon, naive!reader, smut, voyeurism, booby stuff, fingering, penetrative sex, rough sex, cream pie, cockwarming.

As you lie on your side, the gentle sound of rain pattering against the window soothes you. You've never been quick to fall asleep, but the motel's lumpy mattress isn't helping. You are appreciate of Steve's warmth, though, and the fact that you don't feel uncomfortable to be sharing a bed with him at all.

When Professor Barnes invited you on this research trip, you knew you couldn't turn the opportunity down. Two weeks with two of the greatest minds in quantum physics? You had to say yes, utterly honored that they allowed you, a mere freshman barely two months into her college career, to accompany them.

Bucky was happy to take the sofa bed, where he lays now. He's still awake; you can hear him typing on his phone every so often. It's only been ten minutes since you got into bed but they did tell you Steve takes only minutes to fall into a deep sleep. They also warned you that he's prone to sleepwalking, which doesn't worry you - until you feel his arm wrap around you.

"Professor Rogers?" You whisper, turning your head to find his eyes closed as he softly snores.

"Everything alright?" Bucky asks you from the couch. The lamp by the TV is still on so you can clearly see him sitting up.

"Uh, yeah," You reply lowly. "All good."

Not convinced by your tone, Bucky stands up to check on you, his brows furrowing. "Steve sleepwalks, as we mentioned, pay it no mind," He assures you. "Try and get some sleep, flower. Big day tomorrow."

You take his advice, shutting your eyes and trying your best to relax - but then you feel Steve's hand cup your breast. You suck in a gasp, your eyes flying wide open.

"Professor Barnes," You call out to Bucky, who's still standing by the couch.

"What's wrong?" He asks you, taking a step closer.

"He.... he's touching my... chest," You manage to spurt out, cringing inwardly.

Bucky tuts, slowly walking over to you. "I'm sorry about him, but you must stay calm," He tells you firmly. "You can't wake up a sleepwalker."

Steve's fingers start rubbing and pulling at your nipple, making you freeze up. "He... Professor Barnes, please stop him!" You beg him desperately.

"Shh," Bucky whispers soothingly, coming closer to where you lay. His glasses rest lowly on his nose, the pipe in his mouth letting out smoke. "Be brave, flower. It can be incredibly dangerous to wake someone while they're sleepwalking."

"I - this isn't sleepwalking," You whisper, holding back your whimpers while Steve paws at your tits.

"Ah, but it is," Bucky retorts. "Sleepwalkers don't only get up and trot around in the night. I've heard some cases where they cook and eat an entire meal while asleep, and one man even drove all the way to work. It's a dynamic ailment, flower, please be patient with him. I'm sorry, I didn't know Steve's sleepwalking could manifest in a sexual manner, but I'm sure he'll stop soon."

You bite down on your lip and hope he's right. Carefully, you try to move Steve's hands off your breasts, but he only squeezes them harder, making you squirm. Suddenly he pulls up your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold air - and worse, to Bucky's eyes.

"Professor," You shudder, bringing your hands up to cover your chest.

"Just relax," Bucky says lowly, his eyes dark. "It'll be over soon."

Steve pins your left shoulder down firmly before moving his head down. You aren't sure what he's doing until you feel his lips wrap around your nipple. A whimper leaves your mouth as he sucks on your tit, conflicting feelings coursing through you. Though you're terrified and embarrassed, you also feel pangs of pleasure shooting through you like electricity.

"Remain calm, flower," Bucky utters soothingly. "Let him continue and he'll stop on his own accord. We cannot wake him."

You're slightly frustrated at his words - surely a professor forcing his way on a student, whether consciously or not, is more important than whatever danger to Steve you would be posing by waking him up? You try to push him off you, but even in slumber, he's much too strong and heavy for you to try and fight against him.

Steve's hand suddenly pushes past the hemline of your shorts and bypasses your panties. You almost squeal as his fingers plunge into you with no warning, three digits stretching your entrance. The ease with which he's able to slide in, the juices which coat his fingers, leave you incredibly ashamed.

"Professor Barnes," You cry lowly between shaky breaths. "It - he's hurting me."

"Shh, shh, shh," Bucky hushes you as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry about this, honey, I really am, but there's nothing I can do. Try and close your eyes, think about something else."

You squeeze your eyes shut but no pleasant thoughts can distract you from Steve fucking you with his fingers. He curls and scissors them inside you, making your stomach flip. The sound of his fingers sloshing in and out of your wet cunt fill the room, and you're utterly humiliated.

Small whines and moans rush past your lips uncontrollably as Steve fingers you faster, his mouth still latched onto your hard nipple. You wince, trying not to let the pleasure take over, determined to remain professional.

"You're doing so well, flower," Bucky says as he looks your body up and down, watching as Steve violates you. "Being such a good girl, so calm."

"Please, Sir," You whimper, shaking your head. "Make him stop."

"I'm sure it won't be much longer, now," Bucky assures you, biting on his smoke pipe. "That's it, flower, stay nice and relaxed."

Your heart is beating out of your chest and it only beats harder when you feel Steve's hard cock resting against your bare thigh. Before you can move away from him, he pulls his fingers out of you and rips apart your shorts, panties and all. Your body is frozen in shock as he shoves you onto your side with a gruff grunt, and before you get the chance to realize what's about to happen and brace yourself for it, Steve pushes his entire cock into your cunt.

"Oh, my God!" You can't help but cry loudly. Hoping it's enough to wake him, you feel a sense of relief as he stops moving. There are a few moments of silence and just as you look up and meet Bucky's eyes with your tear-filled ones, Steve begins to roughly fuck you.

His hips snap against yours over and over as he mercilessly probes you with his thick cock. You could swear it feels like you're being torn apart, every inch of your skin on fire as you tightly grip onto the sheets.

"Just stay calm," Bucky says casually as he strokes your hair, watching Steve fuck you like an animal. "That's a good girl, just take it."

"Please," You whimper, crying with every hard thrust he serves you. It makes you feel even worse when the pain begins to make room for pleasure, as though you're just as animalistic and depraved as Steve's unconscious alter ego.

The springs in the mattress squeak beneath you as Steve fucks you harder and the headboard repeatedly smacks against the wall with a heavy thump. He lets out low grunts and growls into your ear, his hands keeping you pinned to the bed. A part of you doesn't believe that he's genuinely sleepwalking when you see the look in his eyes - but you remember what Bucky said. Some people can cook meals and drive cars while sleepwalking - it is so crazy to think someone could have sex while sleepwalking?

Still, though, you refuse to let Bucky know that a part of you is finding the sordid encounter enjoyable. While pleasure envelopes you and cascades down your spine, you keep on a strong face in hopes that it'll convince Bucky you can remain professional even in the most difficult and absurd situations.

"That's it, flower, you're being so good," Bucky mumbles, gently stroking your cheek. "It's almost over, I promise. Just a little longer. You're taking this all so well, being so good for us. We knew you would be."

His words confuse you for a second - did they know this was going to happen? But you shake away those thoughts. There's no way they would have let you come if they knew this was possible, you must have misunderstood him.

Steve's thrusts become quicker and harder as he fucks you into the mattress. Your legs shake and you can't believe how close you are to climaxing. You try to hold it back, refusing to orgasm in front of your professors, but when Steve suddenly begins rubbing harsh circles onto your clit while pulling and twisting your nipple, you know you have no control. With a loud cry, you cum onto his cock, your cunt squeezing around his pulsating shaft.

"That's it, good girl," Bucky mumbles, stroking your slacked jaw as your eyes roll back and your body trembles and shakes.

Steve thrusts a few more times before he cums with a grunt, filling you with his seed. You gasp at the feeling, his warm cum coating your insides, his twitching cock beating against your walls.

"You did so well," Bucky says, his own cock hard and leaking precum, threatening to burst through his pants. "You've been such a good girl tonight."

All you can let out is a weak whimper.

Bucky gives you a soft smile. "Now, get some sleep," He tells you firmly before making his way to the bathroom.

You breathe heavily, trying to process the events of the night, equally as ashamed as you are exhausted. A few moments pass and you wait for Steve to pull out and return to his side of the bed, but he remains where he is with his cock inside you, heavy arm around your body, soft snores leaving his mouth.

You try to push him off you but he only grips you tighter and even thrusts his softening cock in and out of you a few times, scaring you into remaining perfectly still for the rest of the night.

masterlist

buy me a kofi <3

follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications so you know when I post 📫

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backseatconfessions · 1 year ago

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slytherin boys p links!!

[viewer discretion- all twitter links]

felt nice and thought i’d share some thoughts <3 (if u don’t like it keep scrolling, don’t report)

i’m not ur mother i can’t tell u what and what not to watch but just be aware and don’t open these in public <33

marauders version here!!

theo soft domming u <3

riding the life outta mattheo <3

soft riding with theo <3

draco fucking u <3

slight bondage with theo <3

bath time with blaise <3

watching in a mirror with draco <3

empty common room with mattheo <3

road trip with theo <3

theo on top <3

mutual masterbation with draco <3

empty dorm with draco <3

mattheo loves ur 🍒 <3

fingering with theo <3

mattheo fucks you <3

needy hj’s with mattheo <3

draco playing with you <3

using theo to make yourself feel good <3

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backseatconfessions · 2 years ago

Text

𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑵' 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑬

PAIRING: Ghostface!Theodore Nott x Reader

SUMMARY: A killer is on the loose at Hogwarts and he has his eye on a prize, or victim — you.

WORD COUNT: 4K

WARNINGS: MDNI! NonCon/DubCon. Oral sex (male receiving). Death threats. Degradation. Breathe play. Physical violence. Dacryphilia. Reader's POV. It's really twisted so don't read it if you're uncomfortable.

A/N: It's the first time I've written dark content, my opinion is that it turned out pretty good. The title is inspired by the Def Leppard song of the same name.

A dark aura had covered Hogwarts ever since the horrific murders began to haunt the hundred-odd stone corridors, a mysterious and suffocating tension taking over the once magical atmosphere of the school. What was once a place of enchantment and wonder had quickly turned into a land of fear and distrust directed at each other.

The usual laughter and carefree conversations were replaced by hushed whispers and nervous glances over the shoulder to make sure no one was following behind, and any stare longer than deemed necessary was grounds for speculating that someone was the mysterious killer.

Walks around the castle were no longer unrestricted, with teachers forced to accompany students after classes and to the dorms at the end of the day, always with their wands in hand, wondering if the next victim was someone they knew.

But the most suspicious and unnerving part was that the killer didn't usually use magic in his attacks, but seemed to enjoy stabbing his target multiple times. It didn't take long for the whisper that the sicario must be a muggle-born to spread, leading to even more hostility towards the group, but you just figured that the evildoer had finer points of cruelty than a quick spell could solve.

In any case, you kept a considerable distance from everyone since the attacks began to persist, carefully scrutinizing any interaction you had, even with the teachers, and that's why you didn't doubt that Professor Sprout could jump out of a bush with a knife in her hand at any second to gut you to death — maybe you were such a good student that she was afraid you'd steal her job one day, as if you'd want to lead such a boring subject, Defense Against the Dark Arts would be more useful, but it wasn't as if teachers needed the help of a maniac to get killed or fired.

Still, it was extremely suspicious that she had left you alone in the greenhouse to pick up some supplies for the Venomous Tentacula, you thought it was quite appropriate for a premonition if she was indeed the killer, but when she took much longer than necessary to return and night descended on the school grounds, you knew you had to get out of there as soon as possible and that was exactly what you were determined to do, taking long, quick strides, but trying not to attract attention until you reached the not-so-safe, but still better than the dark, bare grounds of Hogwarts.

You were close, everything was fine, nothing would happen, no one would dare lay a finger on you, not with your parents being who they were, they would kill the culprit before he could hurt you, were the not-so-comforting affirmations you repeated in your head with every step towards the castle, the sounds of your well-polished shoes echoed eerily in the stillness, and every distant rustle or flickering shadow only helped to intensify your paranoia.

The distant snap of a twig that you wouldn't have heard otherwise if it hadn't been for your heightened senses made you turn your head quickly towards the trees that were swaying their leaves quietly as if taunting you, but there was no one in the darkness, and you pulled your cloak tighter against your body, hurrying your steps even though it felt like you couldn't move.

The icy breeze seemed to whisper secrets that only it could understand, and when one like a soft, mocking laugh reached your ears, a shiver ran down your spine, your heart racing in your ribcage at the same time as your pupils dilated in a clear response from your sympathetic nervous system that was preparing you to flight or fight, but it was when you turned your gaze in the direction of the castle that your mouth went dry and your eyes glazed over, but it only took a few blinks to be sure that it wasn't a figment of your worst dreams.

Standing a few meters away from you was an image that would surely be conjured up as your own boggart if you were lucky enough to survive the night. The rest of its broad and tall body seemed to blend into the shrouding darkness that insisted on covering the field, but the white mask seemed to radiate sadism directed solely at you, its eyes, piercing the obsidian void, fixed on you with a disturbing intensity, it was a presence that exuded evil.

The world seemed to freeze in that sinister moment, the desolation of the uninhabited field amplifying the pure dread that coursed through your veins like an injectable drug that was pumped harder with every beat of your frantic heart. The much-dreaded encounter moved from the realm of speculation to horrifying reality, leaving you paralyzed in a nightmarish standoff with the embodiment of your darkest fears.

“Well, well, my dear,” a voice boomed in your mind, making you shudder from the sudden headache that afflicted you. “It seems we've finally met, I've been looking forward to this moment, haven't you? You look so deliciously terrified.”

Your breathing became ragged, a little from the pain of each word, but also from the implication that he was watching you, you would be his next victim, there was no escape, “Who... Who are you? What do you want?”

The questions that left your trembling lips were empty and trivial, even idiotic, it was quite likely that the other victims had asked the same thing before being brutally butchered, but they were the only things your mind could think of, trying to buy some time to collect your thoughts and think of a way to escape.

“Oh, you can call me Ghostface, my dear, you'll have enough time to learn to shout it when I'm having fun with you in a little while,” this time the voice didn't sound in your head, and you could sense that there was an amusement in its tone, the sick fuck was having fun with it. “As for what I want, it's quite simple. I want you, and I've already got it.”

The frightening figure began to take large strides towards you, your stomach churning at the image, he looked as if he was going to devour you alive, but as if a light bulb had switched on in your mind, your hands reached for the holster of your wand, pulling to point it at Ghostface who was getting closer and closer, you were even willing to use one of the Unforgivable Curses, surely Azkaban was better than being eviscerated to death, but before you could conjure up a spell, a loud and angry “Expelliarmus!” rang out, sending your wand away hard enough.

“You fucking bitch,” your attacker's voice rang out with a venomous rage, one that promised to take its hateful time to hack you to pieces, making every fiber of your being shake with fear, but before his large hands could grab your forearm, you turned in a desperate, frantic run for your life towards the looming forest at the far end of the field. The darkness of the forbidden area offered uncertain refuge, but it was your only chance against a ruthless torturer.

Your lungs burned as you ran through the desert terrain, your legs felt like they would give way at any second if it wasn't for the pure adrenaline coursing through your veins, and Ghostface's sinister laughter echoing behind you was the soundtrack that reminded you that you just couldn't stop even if tears clouded your vision.

You were so close to the undergrowth that preceded the forest, believing that even death by one of the strange creatures that lived there was better than the feeling of a blade in your stomach, but before you could venture into the trees, a vice-like grip slipped around your waist and a cry of despair tore from your throat, kicking the air as your body was manhandled to face Ghostface, the mask hanging over his face, but it was still possible to see his malevolent eyes gleaming with a perverse triumph.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid whore,” he said angrily, using one of his hands to squeeze your cheek tightly, almost leaving a taste of blood when the soft flesh was pressed against your teeth, his other arm still holding your waist with an ease that showed you were exactly where he wanted you. “Haven't you ever watched horror movies? You never run into the woods.”

The tightness in your face slowly eased and you wanted to scream and spit in his face, but you were too scared to dare do anything that would hasten your demise, closing your eyes as tears began to fall like cascades from your eyes, the despair of the situation you were in beginning to sink in, your stomach churning as you felt like you might throw up at any minute, but your breath caught in your throat as you felt the icy blade against your cheek.

“You see, I was trying to be a nice guy to you, I got rid of that stupid professor so you wouldn't have to spend the rest of the afternoon digging pots of dirt, but you're so stupid that it took you almost an hour to realize she wasn't coming back,” he killed Professor Sprout. “Open your eyes!” He commanded, pushing the tip of the knife just enough against your flesh to leave a mark, but not hurt your pretty little face, not when he hadn't had enough fun yet, and you obeyed his command slowly, blinking a few times to keep the tears at bay, but they kept falling non-stop. “There you go, the fear in your eyes is so endearing. It's almost like a drug to me. I thrive on your terror, darling.”

There was an amusement in his voice, but also a softness that could make any other idiot relax, but not you, this behavior only served to show how you were dealing with a disturbed mind, one that could kill you at any second if you even dared to breathe wrong, it was a kind of psychological terror that you weren't sure he was aware of.

“Keep crying, darling, I like your tears,” he whispered as if in a trance, his eyes fixed on how red and swollen your eyes were, your face completely destroyed by your own despair and all of it caused by him. Oh, how he would have liked to remove the mask and lick away your tears, savoring every salty drop like an expensive wine, but he wouldn't end the fun so soon, he'd have time to do it later if you were a good enough girl to earn the privilege of surviving. “I've always dreamed of you crying and kicking while I arrange your guts before gutting you. I spent all day rehearsing in front of the mirror to say that to you, did you like it? I thought it was quite funny.”

You felt numb, taking a few seconds longer than necessary to grasp the words that left his lips as normally as if he had just said good morning — had you ever greeted him in the hallway? Was he a friend or a classmate? Was he an enemy or someone you had bullied in your school years? — but then desperate screams began to escape as you struggled in his arms, turning from side to side in an attempt to escape, but you were so much weaker than him.

“I told you to shut the fuck up, bitch,” he was clearly stressed with your bad behavior while he was genuinely trying to be a nice guy to you, he was trying to make things more comfortable, but you seemed to want to be treated like a whore so it would be. The grip on your waist tightened at the same time as he pressed the knife against your neck, no longer worrying if it would cut. “You'd better just open that filthy mouth of yours to beg for my cock or I'll kill every single one of your friends and make you drink their blood while I fuck you until you beg me to stop because you're so fucking sore, but I'll only stop when I’ve had enough of your pretty little cunt, do you understand it?”

You nodded affirmatively as he pressed the blade harder against your jugular, too afraid of his threats that sounded a lot more like promises, knowing that you had no chance against him other than giving in to his every depraved desire if you wanted to have the slightest chance of surviving. It was funny to him how your tough façade had crumbled so quickly, a little fear is always good for taming a slut.

“I asked you if you understood, you stupid whore,” his patience was wearing thin, you were lucky you had something he was interested in or your lifeless body would have been dumped to be found the next morning a long time ago.

“Y-yes,” you said in a crying voice, closing your eyes in the hope of waking up from that nightmare in the comfort and safety of your dorm.

But it wasn't your lucky day. The relief of having the dagger removed from your soft skin was quickly replaced by pain when he entwined his fingers in your hair and pulled your body hard to the ground, causing you to fall to your knees on the floor, the palms of your hands being used as a cushion, “You know what to do.”

You actually didn't know what to do. Your wide eyes shooting up to look at the man like a deer caught in the headlights, a sight that seemed to dissipate the impatience growing in his chest, but he couldn't be too soft with you or he'd send out the wrong message, “You're so pathetic. A little slut who doesn't know how to do anything, I bet if I look at your panties they're all wet from being manhandled, you're disgusting.”

Your thighs squeezed together, his words were having more of an effect on your body than you would have liked, but it wasn't your fault, or some sign that you were enjoying it, it was just a physiological arousal reaction caused by so much adrenaline in your system after being chased by a perverted maniac. It was a basic survival instinct.

The man lifted the black cloak he was wearing, revealing his school pants that were crumpled after the chase. It was a student, but you didn't have much time to run through the options of who the killer might be, there were hundreds of students anyway. Your attention went to how he quickly undid his buttons and fly, going down in a single pull to his knee to free his cock from his briefs as well, and you thought about running while he was at it, he'd probably fall before he got his pants up, but the knife in his hand was a constant reminder that he could kill you.

“If you want to stay alive, I suggest you stop testing my patience and start sucking,” he pointed the knife in your direction and you took a shallow breath, wiping your trembling hands on the checkered skirt of your uniform before bringing them to the boy's throbbing cock, it was hard, only confirming your theory that all the murders were some kind of perverted fun for him, probably he was some weirdo who didn't have a girlfriend to shag and this was the closest he'd ever come to sex, maybe he was some freak you'd rejected from getting into your knickers and that's why he was taking revenge.

In any case, you didn't had much time to think, your mind trying its best to dissociate itself from the traumatic situation you found yourself in. Your spit mixed with the pre-cum that soaked his member, giving some firm strokes that earned grunts of pleasure, and you opened your mouth just enough to get the head in, swirling your tongue around the slit, this time getting a better reaction, and one of his hands still held the sharp knife, but the other moved back to your hair to guide your movements and exert control over you.

“Don't test my fucking patience,” he grunted menacingly, tilting the knife just enough to catch your eye for a second and you knew better than to play with someone who could slice your neck.

So, despite your desire to shrink your head away in an attempt to preserve some dignity, you opened your jaw wider to slide his cock slowly into your hot mouth, savoring every second of the sensation that made him grunt, and it felt very much like a private paradise for him, “Fuck, that's it. I'm going to keep that pretty little mouth of yours very busy.”

His groan caught your attention, making you raise your puffy watery eyes to find the impersonal mask staring down at you, there was something truly sadistic about it, even knowing there was a human underneath it, it still seemed anything but, which made every slightest compliment, even those laced with degradation, a caress to your ego, but once again the thoughts were pushed out of your mind when he pushed down even further, making you gag and earning a dark chuckle.

“You better get used to it because my cock is the last thing that disgusting mouth of yours is going to feel,” his sentence was so impersonal, belittling your existence as if it meant nothing to him, and it really didn't.

He pulled almost all of his length out of your mouth before coming all the way back in, the tip hitting the back of your throat and making you choke and dig your nails into his thigh, desperately slapping in an attempt to get him to have mercy and let go just enough to get your breath back, but nothing happened, he just kept holding your head tightly against his pelvis, “You're going to stay right where you deserve to be, little bitch. I'll only let you go when you learn to breathe, get over it.”

The threat only made you more desperate, struggling against the firm grip he had on your head until the knife returned to your neck, but this time he moved the blade with enough determination to hurt if you dared to keep trying to break free, and your sense of self-preservation kicked in, you closed your eyes to try to control your breathing, still gagging from time to time until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you controlled yourself.

“Was that so hard, you pathetic little thing?” He laughed as if the situation was funny, pulling his penis out again and you took a desperate deep breath, only then realizing that tears were flowing freely all over your face, drool dripping down your chin, and when he placed a hand on the back of your head, you leaned into his touch, finding some little comfort, but not for long. “Open up.”

There was no arguing, it was an order and you obeyed, making the boy smile with satisfaction under his mask, he was breaking you into his perfect little fuck doll. His hands went back to tangling in your hair, hurting your scalp as the abuse of your throat returned, this time more relentless, picking up pace with every little gagging sound as you tried only to focus on your breathing so as not to disappoint him yet again, so as not to be punished, but the sensation of your tight, wet, hot throat made him almost lose himself in the delicious sensation, the moans filling the oh-so-silent surroundings.

You were lost in your mind that didn't even register what time it was, or the possibility of someone finding and saving you, in fact, the whole situation was so humiliating that a part of you hoped that no one would ever see you like that, just silently wishing that he would use you however he wanted and then leave you free to return to the castle and send an owl to your parents begging to be transferred to Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny.

“Don't you dare touch yourself or I'll kill you,” was the stinging slap in the face that snapped you back to reality, taking a few seconds to register that while he was fucking your face, one of your hands had wandered down to your panties to touch yourself, how humiliating, quickly bringing them up behind your back, you'd pissed him off enough already.

His thrusts continued violent and swift as he found the perfect spot deep in your throat to aim for, moaning animalistically as his orgasm approached, and he didn't need much more than to look at your fucked face, the pretty popular girl letting herself be used as he pleased in the dark of the forest, how disappointed your parents would be, they might even disown you, but he didn't care, fuck your perfect life, you were made to be a cum dumpster and he would make sure of it, his load being pumped onto your tongue and down your throat.

“Swallow,” he commanded harshly when he finally caught his breath, taking his softening cock out of your abused mouth. “All of it.”

And so you did. Swallowing what felt like a reward for you, a proof that you had been good, that you deserved to live, opening again to show your tongue to the masked man who had finished buttoning his pants, and he crouched down to examine, but still looking so much taller and mightier than you, hooking your mouth with his thumb and giving a slight painful tug, the knife menacingly running its blade down the length of your neck, threatening to tear the skin at any second.

Your eyes quickly met his, and a wave of courage caused by extreme tiredness ran through your body, making your limbs act before you could think straight when one of your hands reached up to gently touch the frightening mask, almost as if it might bite you, but the boy made no mention of removing your touch and despite knowing that it was risky, that, logically, you would be a dead woman when you saw the killer's face, you lifted your mask, expecting to find menacing eyes and an evil smile, but what you saw was a small, infatuated smile so innocent that it contrasted with the earlier actions.

Theodore. Your boyfriend, who gently removed the knife from your neck to use the blade to pull a strand of hair back behind your ear, there was concern and tenderness behind his gaze, “Did you enjoy playing psycho killer and his helpless victim?”

“Almost as good as gutting those bitches,” you gave a mischievous smile that reached only your boyfriend's eyes, leaning into his touch for a sweet kiss. “But if I remember correctly, Mr. Ghostface, you promised you'd make me scream your name, I hope you'll keep it.”

Theo laughed at your words, “You're incorrigible,” there was a perverse humor, but it belonged only to the two of you, like a unique proof of love, some people liked cheesy declarations, you liked killing people, there's nothing wrong with that.

With a flick of his wand, he freed himself of his Ghostface outfit, picking you up in his strong arms, you looked wrecked enough to tell people back at the castle tearfully how Professor Sprout had been brutally murdered and you'd had to run for your life. Your head rested against Theo's chest, closing your tired eyes, he would take good care of you as soon as you were in his dorm, and you muttered tiredly, “When can I hunt you down too?”

“Whenever you want, pretty girl,” he left an affectionate kiss on the top of your head. How could he be so lucky to have you?

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backseatconfessions · 2 years ago

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content warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI. marijuana. nudity. reader has tattoos and piercings. SMUT. grinding. high sex. i wrote this on my way to work.

the sound of metal fills the room as you lie on your stomach rolling a joint while carl is trying not to let his mind wander. you’re almost completely naked wearing nothing but a pair of panties leaving your inked skin on display. he has three small tattoos himself but you have more on your arms, legs and shoulders. he would be lying if he said that he didn’t find your tattoos hot as well as your nose piercings.

while he’s lost in his head thinking about you and your body, you’re lighting up the joint and taking the first drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling through your lips. you look at carl and smirk when you catch him staring. to say you weren’t aware of the power you held over him would be such a bullshit lie because he always tells you. and even if he didn’t, you’d still know because you have caught him staring more times than you can count. he’s not exactly the poster child of subtlety but you always get a kick out of teasing him when you get the chance, just like now.

you climb on top of him trapping his hips between your legs as you take another puff while you use your other hand to coax his jaw open. you lean down until your faces are inches apart and blow the smoke right into his mouth through his parted lips.

“oh, fuck,” he moans as you sit up.

he grabs your hips and your breath hitches when he moves your core over the growing bulge in his sweatpants. you keep moving your hips as his hands travel up your ribs to your exposed breasts. carl takes the joint from you and inhales and you almost laugh when “hatefuck” starts playing. this is anything but a hatefuck.

the two of you just keep taking turns with the joint as you grind against him. the joint is half-smoked when carl puts it in the ashtray next to the bed and sits up, instantly attaching his mouth to your neck. his lips move across your skin and down to your chest as your stomach twists with pleasure.

“fuck, almost there,” you moan as your fingers grips his hair as he groans against your skin.

his fingers dig into your hips as his own stutter in movement while your thighs clench around them. the both of you fall off the edge as carl grabs your jaw and kisses you heavily. you already have hickeys on your neck, chest and shoulders but you can’t even bring yourself to care as carl flips you over so you’re lying on your back with him settled between your thighs. you can tell by the look in his red-rimmed eyes that you’re far from done but you’re not opposed to it.

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backseatconfessions · 3 years ago

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REBLOG FICS.

want to support your favorite fanfic writers? then you must REBLOG THEIR WORK. tumblr doesn’t function like other social media sites; there is no algorithm and likes don’t do anything to help writers spread their work. reblogging is easy! it takes one or two more seconds than giving a like, but it makes all the difference to writers.

DON’T: spam like a writer’s work, go through their masterlist and hit like on every fic to bookmark, etc.

DO: reblog fics you read. bonus points for adding feedback!

tagging writer buddies who might want to reblog this to remind their followers: @nony-bear @starksbabie @astrorogers @a-little-counter-esperanto @trashywritestrash @hansensgirl @foxgloveprincess @worksby-d @puckssbunny @stargirlfics @twenty-thirty-two @lavendercitizen @overrwritten3 @super-soldier-sandwich @lfnr-blog-blog-blog @jtargaryen18 @stuckysdumbbitch @dusted-souls @mianorth @smutsonian @hughransom @candy-and-writing @lilacevans @chrissquares @cloudystevie @evansbby @st3rgirl @onsunnyside @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

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backseatconfessions · 3 years ago

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backseatconfessions · 3 years ago

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Malfunctions (Peter Parker!)

Summary: Quickie in a lab with Peter 3. Based on a request from @stylesofhemmings

Warning: Smut

Words: 3.6k

Masterlist

(You might have seen this already. It’s a re-post from my main. I had decided to create a sideblog only a couple of hours after posting. Sorry.)

Note: I do have a bit of an issue with the age gap because she is most likely still in high school when she is their friend and he is obviously older so! to make it less inappropriate i suggest her being older than her friends, or Peter being younger! or think whatever you want but don’t come at me for encouraging such relationships, because that’s not what i am doing at all and when I was writing this i imagine them to be more age balanced

Also big ouffffing thank you to my one and only who read this for me before posting and helped me figure out the title. ♥ you are fucking awesome my bestest dude ♥

***

A confused expression settled on her face when she entered the lab. The room that was filled with a number of voices speaking over each other only a couple of minutes ago was now occupied only by Peter. Not their Peter. The other one. The one who had walked into Ned’s living room in his suit. Peter that made her feel jittery when she looked at him, but from whom she couldn’t take her eyes away. No matter how hard she tried. He was humming some tune that she didn’t know while eyeing some bottle with a weird bright green liquid in it.

“Where did everyone go?”

He turned around, making the open laboratory coat whirl slightly around him before he dropped his hands into its pockets.

“Peter,” he cleared his throat and then grinned, realising his mistake of not being specific enough. “Your Peter needed a moment,” he explained softly. His heart aching for his loss. “MJ went with him. Ned got a call from Lola. And the other Peter….,” Peter let out a puff of breath. “I am actually not sure where he went.” He shook his head, trying to think back and rewind if he even mentioned it. “Yeah. I don’t think he said anything.”

“Oh. Okay,” she nodded her head and set the backpack near the chairs. She was just about to plop down on one of them when her eyes stopped on the objects on the counter. “Are those…?” She started out, but Peter interrupted her.

“Yup, they are,” he informed her proudly. “We got them all finished just a little while after you left.” His brows furrowed as he said it, because the answer escaped his mouth way too fast and way too confident. Pretty embarrassing, considering that he had tried to make it seem like he didn’t even realise her presence before.

He didn’t want to be rude. He surely hoped that it didn’t come off that way. After all, he had plenty of work on his hands. It was for the best.

“That’s cool.” She cheered and took a few steps forward. She didn’t dare to touch any of that, but it was fascinating that they managed to come up with the cures in such a rush.

“You sure it’s going to work?” She wondered, and glanced over at him expectantly.

He let out a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “We sure hope so.” Peter shrugged as he joined her by the counter. “The only way to find out is to give it a go and see. When they get back we will get going,” he explained, though that part was already obvious to her.

“What’s the plan?”

His head tilted to the side, and the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “I am not sure I should fully disclose that.”

“Just partly will do,” she grinned.

“Okay… We are going to go outside. Find them. Probably get our ass kicked for a bit, but then we rise on top of them in triumph, plop those in, cure them and…”

“And then you will hopefully return home,” she finished, trying not to roll her eyes at his vague description, since that was something she could have easily figured out herself.

“Exactly!” He exclaimed, flashing her some finger guns.

“Not that I don’t think that this place is cool and wouldn’t like to stay here!” He insisted right after, quickly shaking his head. He looked around before letting out a whistle. “This is truly incredible, you know. And… You guys are just awesome,” Peter added.

“If a version of my best friend from a different universe showed up in my living room, I am honestly not sure how I would react.” His head tilted to the side slightly and his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to think about it before he decided to just drop it and flashed her a grin instead.

“You guys took it like champs and took us in. You allowed us to become a part of your team. I appreciate that.” He placed his hand on his heart while he said that. “Also, your chocolate milk is soooo different from ours,” he added, his wide eyes making it obvious how much he has been blown away by that. “One would expect they would taste the same. Milk is milk, sugar is sugar and chocolate is chocolate,” he listed, manoeuvring his hands around while he spoke. “How could they differ, right? But somehow they do and it’s fascinating. And man, I do wonder what the other drinks and foods are like beca-“

His impassioned monologue was cut short by her lips landing on his. The kiss was light and careful, almost as if she was afraid that he would disappear to where he had come from under her touch. But he didn’t. His lips felt warm and soft against hers. She kissed his bottom lip and lingered there, her body moving closer to him as if obeying some invisible pull that wouldn’t let go.

#dawn recommends

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backseatconfessions · 3 years ago

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Beautiful. This. This is a work of art.

Summertime and Sundresses

Summary: it’s the dead of summer in New York City, so you’re wearing a sundress. This causes Peter to lose his mind.

Warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, afab reader, dom/sub elements, choking, slight voyeurism, Peter being a horny mess. I’ve never written smut before so uh yeah.

@agnesamarantheastwood @decadentpaperduck @phoebe-danvers @vigilvntes if I forgot anyone I am so sorry

“Babe, come on! We’re going to be late!”

You had to laugh. A few months ago, getting Peter to come to the farmers market with you was like pulling teeth. Now it was his favorite part of his and your Saturday plans.

Saturdays were devoted to the two of you. No work, no Spider-manning (as you liked to say). Just you and Peter. Sometimes you spent the day running errands, sometimes you spent it lazing around the apartment you shared. What you did never mattered, what mattered was that you got to spend time with the most amazing man you knew.

Even if he was being impatient.

It was the dead of summer in New York City. Which mean that by one in the afternoon, it was going to be hotter than Satan’s ass crack. The two of you had several errands to run

You noticed the sundress out of the corner of your eye. You had brought it on a whim, after seeing it in one of those ’25 viral pieces of clothing you have to buy!’ articles on the internet. You knew deep down that those brands had paid the website to be on the list, but damn if that dress didn’t look cute. It was white and had your favorite flowers splashed throughout the dress, with tortoise buttons from top to bottom.

You slipped it on and headed into the living room, ready to start your day with Peter.

“Babe come on, if we don’t leave now, the empanada stand is going to run-“ Peter stopped when you entered the living room.

“-out.”

Holy shit.

He’d never seen you in a sundress. He didn’t know how that was possible, after dating for you several years. But fuck if it wasn’t the hottest sights he had ever seen.

If you asked Peter what his favorite part of your body was, he would say all of it, which isn’t a lie. But there were some parts he liked a little more than others. And right now, all those parts were on display. Your shoulders were bare and so was your back, other than those two thin straps that kept your dress up. Those two straps deserved a medal considering your tits looked like they were dying to get out of the dress. The dress came to the middle of your thighs and of course to look down at your thighs, he also had to notice your hips and fuck.

He slowly stood up from the couch, using his long fingers to adjust his pants to help better cover up his growing erection. He felt like a teenager again, crossing his legs and arms to conceal the physical indicator that he was horny for you.

On any other day, Peter had no issue picking you up and having his way with you.

But he also knew how unhappy you would be later if y’all put off buying a new showerhead again. You two also needed to buy groceries because this was the fifth week you and him had ‘decided’ you would stop eating out so much.

Errands first. Then fuck insanely hot girlfriend. That’s what being a responsible adult was, right?

“You okay Tiger?” Your sweet voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” if he repeated it enough, maybe he could convince you and himself, “Uh….I’ll be right back. Gotta go check something in the bathroom.”

“Weren’t you just saying that we need to leave?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah but that was before nature called!” Peter all but ran to the bathroom, hoping the cold water he was about to splash on his face would calm down the tent in his shorts.

Be a responsible adult first, he kept reminding himself. That way he could fuck you for as long as he wanted, without having to go do errands. Just be a responsible adult.

Being a responsible adult sucked. In fact, Peter didn’t even feel like an adult, despite all the errands you and him were doing. He felt more like a teenager, with how everything you did was turning him on.

Every time you turned your bare back to him, it made him imagine your back on the bed or against a wall while he fucked you. Every time you titled your head to look at something, it exposed your neck that was currently unmarked which Peter thought was a real shame, as he could easily fix that. Not to mention how every time you kneeled down to look at the flowers, your dress rose up a bit, which was causing him to think about how badly he wanted to bury his head in between your legs and-

“Peter!” Peter looked up to see you standing there, holding two different bouquets.

“Which one do you think May will like better?” You asked. You brought flowers with you when you first met May and it was now a tradition you insisted on whenever the two of you had dinner at her place. Peter was incredibly thankful that this dinner wasn’t happening until tomorrow night.

“S-She’s…. go-going to love whichever one we bring babe,” He stuttered through. He really felt like a teenager again and not an almost thirty-year old.

You lowered the bouquets, raising an eyebrow, “Are you okay? Is the heat getting to you? You’re sweaty.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m great! Just need…need to go to the bathroom.” Maybe if he splashed his face with water, he could focus. Or maybe the smell from the portables would do it.

“Again? Also the bathrooms are rancid, are you sure you want to go in there?” You asked as you put a bouquet back.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! I’ll be right back y/n.” Normally he’d kiss you on the cheek or forehead but not this time. He was too busy running his shaking fingers through his hair and biting his lip, almost like he was-

Oh.

You had heard the joke. That sundresses to men were what rolled up sleeves were to women. Well, Peter just proved that it wasn’t a joke, it was an actual thing, a thing he was experiencing right now. Your boyfriend was turned on by just what you were wearing. You had done nothing intentional to turn him on.

At least, not yet.

You still had several errands that needed to be done before the two of you could go home. And you were determined to have some fun with this.

Turning Peter on was incredibly easy. Mostly because it was things that shouldn’t turn him on. Running your hand through your hair, stretching your arms, which caused you to stick out your chest. Even just reaching up to hold onto the railing while on the subway got him flustered.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from doing more intentional acts. You may or may not have stuck your ass out more than needed when you had to kneel to check the price of something. You may or may not have also tied your hair back so that your neck and collarbones were always on display. After years of dating, you knew Peter had a thing for marking you.

You couldn’t lie, Peter was simultaneously adorable and hot right now. His stuttering, running his hand through his hair, and hardly being able to make eye contact brought back so many memories of when you first met him. At that time, you were stunned someone so attractive was so nervous talking to you. Even to this day, sometimes you still had a hard time believing it. Believing that someone so amazing, so handsome, so incredible was attracted to you.

But it was times like these where you weren’t just aware of that fact, you were relishing in it.

Which is what gave you the confidence to slip off one of your undergarments while you were in the bathroom. You had suggested that the two of you stop by to grab some coffee and sit down to rest for a bit. You were almost done with your errands, you just had to a few things from your favorite deli.

You may or may not have suggested this specific place because they have long tablecloths that reached the floor.

“You good, bunny?” You couldn’t stop the grin on your face once you heard his nickname for you. Apparently, it had to do with the fact that one of the first things he noticed about you was how your nose would scrunch up when you laughed, like ‘a cute little bunny’.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You said as you sat down, gripping the sides of your dress so your surprise wouldn’t be ruined.

“So…. after this, we just have one more errand to do, right?” He asked before taking a sip of his tea. His hands had stopped shaking but making eye contact with you was still difficult-which alerted you that yes, he was still turned on. You toyed with the table cloth, pulling it so that your lap and legs were covered by it.

“We do! After that we can go home and do….whatever,” or whoever.

You reached your purse and started to fish out your chapstick. You found it-finally-only for the tube to slip out of your fingers and roll under the table.

A total accident.

“Babe,” you looked up through your eyelashes, “Can you get that please? I don’t want to flash the whole place.”

It wasn’t a lie. He just didn’t know yet how much you would have shown the café.

His brown eyes widen before he could mumble a mix of ‘yeahs’ and ‘sures’. He bent down to put his head under the tablecloth. As he did so, you couldn’t help but grin as you spread your legs.

Peter Parker knew he was not subtle when it came to how much he liked you. He nearly ran into a wall when he first met you because he could not stop staring.

You, on the other hand, had gotten much bolder when it came to making it known that you wanted Peter.

As soon as he ducked under the table, the scent hit him. He’d recognized it anywhere, as it was his favorite scent. It was your arousal, but why could he smell it here-

Oh. Fuck.

Well, that would explain it. Your legs were spread wide open and somehow you no longer had on underwear.

Peter had a feeling you knew how much this sundress turned him on. Now he had confirmation that yes, you not only knew but were teasing him about it. His eyes were burning into your exposed core and if you weren’t in a public place, he’d had no issue burying his face in between your thighs.

“You good babe?” You asked innocently from above.

Peter gripped the chapstick, taking one last look before he got out from the table. He placed the chapstick on the table, with a bit more force than usual. There you were, smiling away as if you had no idea what he had just saw when you totally did.

Fuck being a responsible adult, Peter needed to fuck you now.

“Yeah,” He grunted out, “All good. We need to go home. Now.”

You titled your head to the side, feigning confusion, “But we have to-“

“We’re going home now.” His eyes were dark and narrow. It felt like they were burning a hole through you.

“Okay,” You said, smiling before you took another sip of your iced coffee. You considered arguing, prolonging your teasing. But with how he was looking at you, like he wanted to devour you right then and there, made your reconsider.

Peter’s arm never left your waist the whole way home. You could feel his long fingers gripping the hem of your dress, most likely to ensure that you didn’t flash anyone. It also had to do with how horny he was right now.

You walked through the door of the apartment you two shared, slower than usual. You knew it wouldn’t be long before Peter had his way with you, so you were determined to enjoy your teasing while it lasted.

“We should put the produce away first. Do you still have the video about installing the shower head-“

A large hand snuck up from the nape of your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling it, forcing your head to tilt back. You looked up to see Peter there, pupils blown and a hungry look on his face.

“Bedroom. Now.” He grunted. You nodded your head as he walked you to the bedroom, keeping a tight grip on your hair.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered as soon as the door opened. You nodded and began to grab the hem of your dress to begin taking it off.

“Keep it on.” Oh. Okay then.

You walked over to bed you shared with him, sitting down. The look on his face was nothing but devious and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t turning you on.

You loved how sweet and gentle Peter was with you. But you also loved when he was desperate and rough.

He leaned over and in that moment, you felt so small. He gripped your shoulders, pushing you back so you were lying down. You then felt his hands move from your shoulders down to the hem of your dress.

You hissed at the feeling of the cold air hitting your core when he hiked your dress up to your waist, exposing how soaked you were.

“Someone’s been a fucking tease,” he whispered as he traced his fingers along your thighs. He leaned over, his face inches away from yours. You didn’t dare move, not unless he told you to.

“See, my original plan was to just fuck you,” you felt his fingers get closer and closer to your soaked cunt, “But after that little stunt you just pulled?”

He leaned in, his breath hot on your ear, “I’m going to wreck you.”

Without warning, his fingers were filling up your cunt, curling just so to hit that sweet spot. You were already an incoherent, rambling mess which should have had you worried considering Peter had just started.

“You like being a fucking tease?” You felt his other hand tighten around your throat. You did your best to nod, which was hard with how relentless his fingers were on your cunt right now.

“C’mom bunny, use your words,” his fingers stilled inside of you, keeping you filled but not giving you what you needed. His grip on your throat loosen, enough to make it easier to talk.

“I-I like being your tease, Peter,” you got out, praying it was what he wanted to hear.

He smirked, “that’s right, you are mine bunny.” God, you hated that nickname when he first started calling you that, and now it was getting you even more wet.

Peter’s hand left your throat and trailed down to meet his other hand. His fingers began moving once again, in and out of you. You then felt another finger drawing circles on your clit.

Your back arched as you moaned obscenities, which was probably going to get you another complaint from the neighbors but at this moment you didn’t care. You were too focused on the knot in your stomach that was building and building

“Peter.”

“Hmmm?” He looked up at you, his hands still working on your pussy. Fuck, why was he so hot?

“I-I’m c-close,” you buried your head into the pillow, bracing yourself for what would happen next. It wasn’t your first time getting punished for teasing Peter.

“Good girl.”

Suddenly, you were empty, his fingers gone. You bit your lip, knowing better than to whine at the loss of contact. Even though your eyes were closed, the sound of the bottle of lube opening told you everything you needed to know.

“Look at me,” you opened your eyes to find Peter hovering over you. He had one hand on his leaking cock, which was lined up at your entrance.

“Tell me what you want,” He whispered as he pushed a strand of your hair out of your face.

“You Peter, I want you.”

He chuckled, “I’m right here. You gotta be more specific bunny.”

Your whole body felt like it was going into heat. Your mind was racing through a million different thoughts, though they all had to do with just how badly you wanted Peter to fuck you.

“I want….I want your cock inside of me. Please, please, fuck me, please.”

Peter chuckled, “you’re so cute when you beg.”

Before you could say anything, he began pushing inside of you, slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size.

Your back arched as he fully buried his cock inside of you. Your hands reached from him, grabbing onto whatever part of his body you could get. Peter rested his forehead on yours, wanting to be as close as possible.

“This okay baby?” He whispered, dropping the facade for a moment. No matter how heated things got, the last thing Peter wanted to do was hurt you.

You nodded your head, “please…please move.”

“If you insist,” he began to pull out, almost all the way before he slammed his hips into yours.

“Fuck! Peter!” He felt amazing, you never wanted it to end.

“Fuck bunny, always so tight for me,” he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

His pace was relentless and you loved that all you could do was just lie there and take it.

Peter gripped your thighs as he leaned back, adjusting so he was now on his knees. The change in position allowed him to spread your legs apart even more. Fuck, it felt like he was splitting you open on his cock. You were going to feel this for the next few days but you didn’t care.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he shoved two fingers in before you could get a word out. You moaned around his digits, sucking on them as best you could.

Peter knew he wasn’t going to last long, he had been horny all day. Which was why he was done with teasing you and now focused on getting you to finish. He was generous like that.

Totally didn’t have anything to do with how your cunt got even tighter whenever you came.

The fingers left your mouth. You then felt them rubbing your clit, eliciting even more obscenities from your mouth.

“You gonna tighten up for me?” You nodded your head. Between the pressure he was placing on your clit and him rutting into you hard, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

That knot building in your stomach finally unraveled, hitting you all at once. Your walls contracted around his cock, as if your pussy was desperately trying to keep it from leaving you. He never stopped his movements, which prolonged your orgasm.

“Peter, please, come inside of me,” you whimpered. All you could focus on was how good it was going to feel when he filled you up.

It didn’t take long. You already felt amazing, but when you came around Peter’s cock, you felt incredible.

Within a few more thrusts, you heard him groan, which was a sign. You moaned at the sensation of him filling you up with his seed. You grasped his shoulders and pulled him closer to you.

The two of you laid there, trying to catch your breath. You snuck a hand into his hair, massaging his scalp as he placed gentle kisses along your now very marked neck.

“You should wear sundresses more often,” Peter said, breaking the silence.

“Noted,” you laughed, “I’ll order some more.”

“Can…can I help you pick them out?” He asked shyly. It was hard to believe that the guy who just fucked you senselessly was now nervous to ask if he could pick out clothing for you. But that was one of the many things you loved about Peter.

“Of course you can,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Cool,” he paused, “I was looking some up while you were in the bathroom at the cafe.”

You let out a laugh, “if you’re going to fuck me like that, I’ll wear them for the rest of summer.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time y/n.”

#dawn recommends

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