regatoni1

[regatoni1]

KISS THE MASK

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪 beware of mask kink, sensory overload, light breathplay, and unprotected sex.

you’re a fucking mess beneath him, legs spread wide, his thick cock splitting you open so good you can’t even think straight. simon’s got you pinned to the bed, one hand wrapped tight around your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you dizzy with want—while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice rough, muffled behind that damn mask. the one that drives you insane. the one you’re desperate to kiss, even though you can’t.

you whine, arching into him, nails scraping down his back as he fucks into you with deep, punishing strokes. “simon—please—”

“please what?” he taunts, grinding his hips in slow circles just to watch you squirm. “use your words, sweetheart.”

but you can’t. not when he’s hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur, not when all you can focus on is the way his mask stretches over his lips, the faint hint of warmth beneath the fabric. you’re fucking obsessed.

so you reach up, fingers trembling, and grab the sides of his mask, pulling him down until your mouth is pressed sloppily against where his lips would be. you kiss him like a starving thing, open-mouthed and desperate, tongue dragging over the rough material like you could taste him through it.

he groans, low and filthy, his hips stuttering. “fuckin’ greedy, aren’t you?”

you nod, whining into the mask, sucking at the fabric like it’s his bottom lip. you can’t help it—you need more, need him closer, even if it’s just this.

he curses, snapping his hips harder, fucking you through the mattress. “that’s it, keep kissin’ me like that,” he rasps. “like you can’t fuckin’ get enough.”

you can’t. you really fucking can’t.

your moans are muffled against his mask, spit soaking the fabric as you cling to him, your cunt fluttering around his cock. you’re so close, so fucking close—

“gonna come?” he murmurs, voice dark with promise. “do it. come all over my cock, sweetheart. let me feel it.”

that’s all it takes. you shatter with a broken cry, body trembling as he fucks you through it, his own release following soon after with a rough groan.

when he finally pulls out, you’re still panting, lips swollen from kissing his mask like a slut. he chuckles, thumb brushing over your cheek. “fuckin’ insatiable.”

[regatoni1]

Dean Winchester Fanfic Recs

a/n: these are all fan fictions that I think deserve more recognition or some that I will always go back to reread ! and if you're one of the authors and prefer I don't @ your work for whatever reason lmk and ill remove it <3

One-shots/Imagines/Drabbles

Angst

Stabbed by @watermelonlipstick

Stubborn Comfort by @wearywinchester

Comfort Crowd by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

He's Not a Machine! by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Hold on to Me by @supernatural-fangirl1967

Restless Nights by @zepskies

aftermath by @valjy

Touch by @supernotnatural2005

stitches by @dewwinchester

Fluff

Dating Dean Winchester Headcanons by @fooshigoomies

Being Dean's Wife by @deanbrainrotwritings

Too Many Beds by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Faithfully by @fanfictionalraven

Get a Room. by @em-ontv

Every Day That You Want by @godmadeaterribleerror

i feel so high school every time i look at you ... by @deerlysacred

Miniskirt by @wendichester

photobooth by @honeyryewhiskey

Smut

To Need Somebody by @godmadeaterribleerror

Hold You Tight in My Mind by @godmadeaterribleerror

I'll Crawl Home by @godmadeaterribleerror

The Hiatus Beard by @supernotnatural2005

Dean x Reader Series + Miniseries

Canon/Canon-Compliant

Well, Hello there stranger by @talesmaniac89

Sleeping Awake by @talesmaniac89

Carry On by @jawritter

Genesis Primus: A Supernatural Series Rewrite by @dianawinchester03

Reno by @fanfictionalraven

Babylon the Great by @godmadeaterribleerror

Death on Holiday by @godmadeaterribleerror

AU

Escape by @soaringeag1e

The Man in Apartment 43 by @talesmaniac89

Home to You by @smol-and-grumpy

Legally Yours by @smol-and-grumpy

The Arrangement by @supernotnatural2005

Smoke Eater by @zepskies

[regatoni1]

Bravo 7-1 🧼

[regatoni1]

Down with sickness over @dante-mightdie ‘s blue collar!simon and his fixation with having a good meal

Your boyfriend works on the same construction site as Simon. He’s a serviceable worker, but a right fuckin pillock sometimes. Goes out for lunch every day with his mates like he’s got money to burn or something. And he’ll leave behind a neatly folded paper bag with a sticker on it a couple of times a week.

Eventually, Simon gets so tired of seeing it he thinks fuck it, why let it go to waste? He opens it up to see a little piece of memo paper with quickly inked handwriting on it alongside some storybook characters. Have a good day <3.

Inside there’s an insulated container with some hot tomato soup, accompanied by a hearty turkey, bacon, and lettuce club wrapped in wax paper on toasted bread. On the side are some apple slices and baby carrots. There’s a single wrapped heart shaped chocolate. And he’s kind of in heaven— god knows how long it’s been since anyone had ever prepared something like this for him.

Did your dumbass boyfriend have any idea that there were men that would kill to have a sweet thing sending them off to work with home-made lunches? Fuck, you probably have dinner waiting when he comes home, too. He’d only seen you once, when you’d come to drop something off for your man. Pretty. Pearls before swine.

Simon uses the last few minutes of his break to swing by the foreman’s office and check the employee records. Next time your fuckhead boyfriend goes out for lunch, Simon’ll be headed to yours to show you how a pretty bird ought to be thanked for taking such good care of her man.

[regatoni1]

A love triangle between König x Simon Riley x You

I kept you as my secret…you kept me as your oath

MDNI ta xox

- The prologue

- In the beginning

- Bruises and blood

- Truce

- Friendship

- Aria

- Devotion

- Our Second Honeymoon

- London

- Bloodhounds

- Our Love is a Game I Lose.

- A Slow Death

- Hunted

- Score to Settle

- Epilogue

Inspired by this ask

The vibe

The playlist

For discourse look at the tag vice spoilers

The sequel; Vow

[regatoni1]

COD

All of 'em (TF141)

Ghost

Soap

Price

Gaz

König

[regatoni1]

Poly Cod:

Smells Like Home: omegaverse TF141 x reader

Inspiration / part 0.5

Part 1

[regatoni1]

Smells Like Home

Inspired by @teletubbyinlipstick ! Let me know how y'all like it... if even one person says it's good I might make a little mini fic who knows ->

https://www.tumblr.com/teletubbyinlipstick/773874556933996544/something-something-abo-multihybridau-tf141?source=share

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, and there wasn’t supposed to be this many. 

It was supposed to be a cute situation, maybe standing on a down breeze while walking through the park and smelling them. 

I was supposed to be wearing a cute sundress and the bees were supposed to be buzzing and the butterflies flying.

Not me, hungover in my sweatpants, going to the corner store for some much needed energy drinks and catching a whiff of not one, not two, but four of the most delicious smelling alphas I had ever smelt. 

I knew, from the moment that one gust of wind hit my nose, that they were all somehow my mates. It wasn’t like they each had an individual smell, but a mix of scents that complimented each other.

They were each other, through and through. 

That’s how I found myself standing there, wide eyed, empty handed, staring at a group of the scariest four men I had ever seen. 

But they were staring at me too, looking just as bewildered as I felt. 

My heart was pounding in my chest and before I could take another breath of their sweet, amber scent, I shook my head and rushed into the shop.

I tried to collect myself. 

This. Was. Not. Happening. 

Not here, not like this. 

I spent way longer in the store than I should have, dropped the one drink I went in there to buy, and almost left it on the counter after I paid. 

They were waiting for me. 

I could feel it before I saw them, before I even left the store. 

I stood frozen, drink in hand and about six feet away from the door. 

“Is everything okay ma’am?” the cashier asked. 

It must seem like I was high, or scared. Maybe both.

I nodded, shooting him an unconvincing smile from over my shoulder. “Yeah, thanks!” 

Collecting my bravery, I walked out of the store. I couldn’t even hear the bell over the blood rushing in my ears. 

The hushed conversation between them stopped immediately. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-

“Hey.”

I froze. 

I was scared. 

Why was I scared?

Turning, I faced them. 

I take them each in. Different… but the same. 

Tall, muscular, so very alpha…

Three of them were standing in a little circle, one of them with his back against the wall and smoking a cigarette. 

My eyes were wide as I hesitated near them. 

Being this close was so overwhelming I couldn’t think straight. 

Their attractiveness, their aura, the smell. I was surprised my knees didn’t buckle right then and there. 

They had to be my mates, right? Maybe one of them was, and they were pack bonded? So it felt like all of them? 

Something was happening, because if these were just random people I would be running for the hills. 

They were all so scary. So intimidating. 

Every little thing about them screamed danger, and I was staring it in the eyes. 

I couldn’t see any weapons on them, but I knew they had them. These were men with enemies. They were also men who could, and probably had, killed with their bare hands. 

“Hi,” I blushed. I felt so juvenile.

One of them took a step forward. 

He looked like the oldest, maybe the leader? 

He had a beard that covered his chin, a little bucket hat that he just somehow made work, a tight shirt that strained against his chest as his burly arms crossed over it, and piercing blue eyes that I felt I could trust. 

It had to be him, right?

“You…” he trailed off, his eyes travelling down and back up my body. 

He licked his lips before he continued. “What’re you doing here?”

My mouth opened to reply, then closed. I glance at the can in my hand. He does the same. “Um… what do you mean?” 

He takes the smallest step forward, but stops himself. “My name’s Price. John Price.” 

I stared. Did he want me to respond? 

I glanced at the rest of the men standing behind him. 

They were all staring at me.

John continued to speak, a small and knowing smile on his face. “I think we all know what’s happening here, right?” 

I licked my lips nervously, a tic that did not go unnoticed. 

“I…”

I chided myself for the lack of confidence I displayed. 

Clearing my throat, I tried to continue. “Yeah. I think I might.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Then you understand that you have to come with us.”

I blinked once, then twice. My brows drew together. 

His words almost sounded like a threat, but he said them in a way that made me feel like he was just right, that there wasn’t any other way to go about it. 

Again, my mouth gapes before making noise. “What?” 

[regatoni1]

Your fav military man, but this time he’s got you bent over his muscled leg, whimpering and pleading with your face smushed against the couch cushion as he rubs your plump pussy with his big, calloused fingers.

It’s almost unfair how he’s got you wound up enough to drool on the cushion. Your legs are spread apart for his complete convenience, and every stroke of his thick fingers against the sensitive, puffy skin has your cunt weeping for more.

You beg and plead for him to do something more- to shove those stupidly thick fingers inside where they belong, and he tuts once, gruffly. A mere second of silence passes, and your clit aches in silent protest of the missing stimulation before- oh.

Your no-nonsense lover’s hand firmly connects with your cunt with a sharp smack, and you see stars. A strangled, surprised moan falls from your lips, and he chuckles darkly, a soft, rasping sound that makes you whine again. “Oh, baby…. Did we learn something new today?”

[regatoni1]

b’s masterlist

hi! call me b. welcome to my happy place. 🫶

20s -> she/her/hers

my one and only ao3

important note: MDNI -> content on my blog includes 18+ content. if i notice ageless blogs/minors around, i will block you, without warning. and to the adults that linger, i am not responsible for how you consume your media; please read all warnings before interacting with any work posted.

if you would like to know when i post a new work, please turn on notifications for @bi-has-written.

i do not like or condone the use of artificial intelligence in any creative space. do not use my work to interact with it in any way or use it to train any sort of ai model with.

also don’t post any of my work on fucking tiktok or wattpad or anywhere else at all. if i find out, i’ll block you and put you on blast.

pedro pascal masterlist

simon “ghost” riley masterlist

john “soap” mactavish masterlist

Keep reading

[regatoni1]

'STILL WAKES THE DEEP' AU | MASTERLIST

SOAP x READER

You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works.

Or: scenes from the 'Still Wakes the Deep' au

a collaboration between @bi-writes and @ceilidho

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Dubious Consent, Deep Sea Creature, Eldritch Monster, Minor Character Death, AFAB reader, TBA

First Meeting Warning Signs Trouble Brewing Something in the Water

Extras

Initial posts (1, 2) Series moodboard

[regatoni1]

the gift that keeps on giving - part one, john

Every year, on each of their birthdays, you're delivered with a bottle of Scotch. Shared. Savored. Spoiled. cw: established relationship, everything is consensual, reader is shared between price+nik+kate, smut, rope bondage, gags, mild degradation, vibrators, alcohol, pet names a/n: AO3

"Is that–?"

"It is."

"And that–?

"Nikolai sends his regards."

John scrubs a hand over his warming cheeks and chuckles when he meets Kate's eyes. Her smile is sharp, wicked. The very same one she shares whenever a plan executes perfectly. She pats his back and lays a key card on the desk.

"Happy birthday, John. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She laughs softly as she leaves the suite. The door clicks shut after easing closed, leaving him alone with his gifts.

He stares, good manners slipping now that company's gone. He doffs his cap and shucks off his jacket, taking his time to place both aside. His breathing deepens as he peels off his shirt, the cool air a balm to his warmed skin.

"Look at you. Sittin' pretty. Much better than last time." He tugs off his belt and lifts a single brow. "Did our chat motivate you? Or are you on your best behavior 'cause it's my birthday?"

His pet doesn't answer, of course, not with the gag held between her teeth. She weakly whines as he steps out of his trousers, folding them with the same lack of hurry as the rest of his clothes. His lip curls at the sheen on her lips, the string of drool dangling from the silicone, and how her eyes drill far lower than his face. He cups himself over the cotton, sneering when her gaze snaps up.

"No, you care about the rules or my birthday, do you? You just want somethin' to gag on." John clicks his tongue, ignoring her protests, releasing himself to pluck the half-full bottle resting between her legs. Fingers curling around the neck, he guides the heft of it deliberately into her seam as he lifts it. He zeroes in on the damp revealed by its removal and the pink silicone tail peeking out from behind the gusset. He exhales hard through his nose. 

"You better be a good girl for Kate next time you're with her. She's spoiled you."

John pulls the room's armchair closer to the bed and pours himself a small drink. The bottle is an old tradition that he and Nik started. Kate's the most recent addition to the rotation, despite her deeming it unpalatable. But, sure enough, her initials and last year's date are etched in ink on the bottle's label.

He looks over their pet and the rope securing her limbs, ensuring it's only as uncomfortable as she likes. Her arms double-cuffed at her back, legs held open like butterfly wings, tied ankle to thigh. She's stunning like this. Always is.

Swirling the amber on his tongue, savoring the taste, he swipes through his phone to the clever little app, and starts her off at the halfway point on the scale. He sips, content to watch her try and remain still as the egg whirrs to life, tail twitching from where it sticks out of her panties. He knows some of the frustrated noises trapped behind the gag stem from the fact he hasn't ripped that frilly piece of lingerie off yet, that he can't see her pussy soaking itself. He's in no rush. After all, following one near-immediate orgasm, from probably being teased to high heaven by Kate, the silk conforms to her sex. He sees every fucking detail from the chair.

John's achingly hard, purposely ignoring his own needs. He plays with the settings through another orgasm, curiously trying out the new tap mode, sending occasional pulses to keep her guessing. Only when the aftershocks peter out, leaving her trembling and contracting inward, does he shut it down to let her slump inward. He sets his glass aside.

"There we go." He minds as he removes the gag dripping with her spit. "Status?"

"Green, could use water, sir." She whispers through several deep breaths, voice shaky.

"Good girl, telling me what you need." The reinforcement is pointless, more for him than her. Regardless, he finds her water bottle in the minifridge and watches her lips pucker around the straw. "I'm gonna take that out when you're finished. Need anything else?"

She swallows, then shakes her head. "No, sir."

The hot pink vibrator's sticky, coated, and its removal releases a little rush. They both groan, and it's all he can do to not tip her back and take her there and then.

"Kate's improved." He observes, one finger hooking under the rope wrapped around her upper thigh. She squirms, lips pressing together in a frown. "You don't think so?"

"I had to tell her how to do my legs."

"Did you?" John grabs one of the smaller pillows and tosses it beside the bed. He toes it into position, then reaches for her. "Proud of yourself?" He huffs when, instead of answering, she arcs toward his hands, eyes trained on his face. She's still feeling a mite bold, then. That bravado doesn't last. It never does. The second he puts her level with the strained fabric of his pants, her eyes drop. That slip of attitude bleeds into an affectation of the docility he likes. A practiced and put-upon yielding. She'll play along, for now.

"Conceited and greedy." John chides, reaching for his glass. He widens his stance, nodding once to cue her. A chuckle rumbles out as she buries her face into the cotton pulled taut across his cock. Nosing it first, dragging in deep breaths, then mouthing at him, wetting it, laving her tongue over its curve, then down. He hisses, watching her clumsily take the elastic band in her mouth. "Mind those teeth."

When she manages to drag the cotton to his base, he pushes it down his thighs further with his free hand, then settles it on the crown of her head. His cock droops, twitching at her soft, warm breaths fanning over it. A teaser.

She kisses his tip once, stealing a kitten's lick, before opening and offering his cock its cradle. He glides it over her tongue, letting the threads of his control puppet him along until he's as far as she can take. Into the wet sleeve of her throat, breathing hard through her nose. His head tips back, and a prolonged sigh leaves him as he simply holds there, listening to the choked gags of her attitude adjustment.

He starts slow. Kate's probably kept their pet's pretty mouth occupied for the weeks she's had her, but he's seen the woman's collection, and nothing's as thick as him. He picks up the pace, rocking his hips with some vigor when her tongue starts acting more deliberately, less reactionary. She's old hand at this by now. Takes his cock like a champ anywhere he sticks it.

His head tilts back down until his chin taps his chest to admire the sight of his pet working. Her eyelashes flutter over her cheeks, nose scrunching as his hair repeatedly tickles it. 

"Eyes open." He withdraws until just the tip sits behind her lips, before giving it a few shallow thrusts to knock the tears off her waterline. He licks his lips at the uneven lines of her smearing makeup. No waterproof shit. Kate really thought of everything. He shuttles her mouth down again, swearing at the squeeze.

When he pulls out, her tongue chases after, and he slaps his length across it to hear her whine. She lets it slip over her cheek to nuzzle his sack, and he nearly bites a chunk of his cheek out when she pays them her attention, suckling gently at the textured skin. Her swollen lips plant kisses. It takes the last of his drink and the last of his self-restraint to stop her. 

He'd rather not paint her face—not on the first round. 

John weighs his options. How much freedom she ought to have in what comes next. She turns her head beneath his hand, pressing a kiss to his wrist before letting her teeth graze lightly over the ridges of its veins. Then, when he doesn't make a decision quick enough for her liking, she nips hard. His nostrils flare at the sting, and then he moves, his decision made. It's time, he thinks, to unwrap the present right in front of him.

He makes short work of the rope. First her legs, then her arms, hoisting her onto the bed rougher than planned. The hotel bed groans under the sudden drop, but the indignant huff she expels is louder. The seconds he allows her to stretch her limbs as he kicks off his pants is his mercy. 

The mattress dips as he follows her toward the headboard, knees knocking hers apart. Her hand slides down her belly quick as a cat, spreading herself with two digits, and his single-mindedness nearly misses the 'J' and 'P' painted neatly on her fingernails.

"What's this?"

She smiles coyly. "Another present."

"Did I pay for it?"

"Yes, sir. They look better wet. See?" To illustrate, she shines them with her own slick, and she's right. They do. His gaze shifts between them to the entrance they frame. She's dripping like a tap, clit swollen under its hood and almost goading. The glittery paint catches the light.

"Look at that." He throbs at the sight of her hole clenching reflexively, then slips a finger between her own, groaning at the give and the heat. Her breath hitches as he buries it deep and crooks it. He knows every part of her body as well as he knows his own. Takes nothing to find the spot that makes her sing.

The ebbing of his near-orgasm is a minor tragedy, his prick practically begging to cram itself into her, but watching her squirm satisfies the torment. He relishes her whimpers, the wet squelch of her pussy sucking him in. The sight of her gripping the sheets and stuffing her painted fingers into her mouth, the sound of a muffled oh fuck escaping around them—never been a better show.

John works her up to two and briefly considers a third when her eyes roll, but he's fit to burst. Plenty of time between now and breakfast. He might try for a fourth when she's good and loose.

While he cleans his fingers, her legs hitch around his waist and lock by the ankle at the small of his back, heels digging in and urging. A demand sneaks out, too, though when he meets her eye, she's biting her lip in denial. All apologetic, but only when she's caught.

Spoiled, pampered pet. He's supposed to be the firm hand of the trio. She's gone and softened him up.

He drapes over her, arms bracketing her head. No quarter, no turning her face away. Front row seat to her pupils swallowing their color, tears pooling heavily on their lines. Her anticipation and frustration are raw, too big for her to hide. Her sweetness exists at the knife's edge, and too often, he finds himself on the wrong side of it. She knows just where to slot it between his ribs, when to twist. How much to give to make him ache for it. Turn both of them greedy.

Her hips wiggle, heat-seeking cunt in search of a cock, and another gasp puffs out of her when it works. The blunt head catches and, with pressure, notches. "Deep breath." He warns. From there, it's one languid thrust into her cunt. Worth all the teasing and toying, no resistance at all. She's snug, soaking, and fits him like a glove.

The first outward stroke pulls a deep groan from somewhere deep within him. Her heels tamp down as he builds a rhythm. Bullying him into bullying her. They let up when he plummets deep enough to brush her cervix, the muscles melding to his sides briefly seizing like she's touched an electric fence. Kicking when he keeps at it.

Her hands meet behind his neck, fingers lacing together. Later, she'll dig them into his back upon request. Kiss the marks they leave, too. The thought already makes his chest ache. For all the trouble she gives him, she's a good girl.

He and Nik got lucky.

They weren't looking for anything like this when they met her. They had each other, thought it sorted, no need for more. No one else. But then, out of every shop in the city, they had to pick hers. And she, with her effortless smile and charm, had to go and upsell Nik that first bottle. She didn't push, exactly, but the way she leaned in, the lilt of her voice—it was impossible to resist. She was under their skin in a heartbeat.

After that, they couldn't help themselves. The way they showed up to collect her after work, practically glowing. The fucking springs in their steps. Nik's arm over her shoulders, and John's around her waist, as if there was nothing in the world but the three of them, as if they'd known each other forever.

It was meant to be a one-time thing. Now she's got her own room and an allowance.

And then Kate got involved, and everything changed again, simplifying and complicating it all at once. New rules laid down to keep everyone happy and well, but flexible enough that everyone knows her availability if someone needs to eat her cunt.

He slips out to roll to his side, grunting approvingly when she hastily follows suit, arse pressing insistently to his front. His hand curls under her knee, lifting and prying her open, and hers reaches down blindly to guide him back in. The sound she makes is pornographic, pitching up a note in her used throat when he punches back in the second her hole slots over him.

"Needy fuckin'–"

"Please, John, I want–"

Beneath her head, the bicep she uses as a pillow bulges. He bends his arm further, snatching up one wrist and netting himself the other when she tries to free it. 

Like this, he can let loose. Fuck her with abandon. Give her what she really wants and what he needs. Something to stave off the steady march of time, help him ignore the new crop of silvers and grays above his ears. Stretch out the pretty girl on his cock and listen to her cry about it, and cry for more. 

His nose and forehead press to her temple, and she turns her head enough to give him the chance for a kiss. He doesn't hesitate, leaning in to claim her mouth. It's sloppy and desperate, but it's the softest she's been all night since choking on him.

Her leg lifts from his hold, sweat beading along her forehead at the strain. His hand falls automatically toward her clit, thumbing where the skin stretches first, feeling how thin it spreads on the outstroke. It makes him rut like a bull, feeling bigger than ever with how taut it goes. He pants into her neck, grinning wolfishly at how her pussy clenches around him when he briefly teases the bud between her legs.

She shifts, rolling her hips back to meet him, and he answers by turning her, then pressing her down into the sheets. One hand firmly clamps at her waist, the other settling at the nape of her neck. His knees take the brunt of his weight, spreading to stabilize his stance, before rebuilding his pace. He fucks her like this for a while, spearing over and over again, staring rapt at the core of her body. Listening to the slick glide of himself into where she's swollen and crying. 

He moves his mitt from her waist to the underside of her knee, spreading her further, driving in deeper. "Touch yourself." he rasps, a chuckle rumbling out of him at the speed of her compliance. One of her arms snakes under her stomach, and he watches four cute fingers poke out from under his cock to rub herself stupid.

Sweat clings to his back, matting the pelt of coarse hair on his chest and stomach, dripping steadily onto her as he shifts his weight. He leans more of his heft onto her, letting gravity aid the swing of his hips. Hammers down on her fingers. In a distant corner of his mind, he recalls his last birthday and the noise complaints. The concierge's face the next morning, tomato-red and warped with embarrassment, unable to meet their eyes as he explained.

A sharp whine snaps his eyes to her face. Her bottom lip is held fast in her teeth, and he releases her neck to drag a knuckle down the side of her face. He collects a bead of sweat and licks it off, humming at another delightful squeeze.

"Gonna come, sweetheart? Gettin' close?"

She nods, eyelids shutting halfway. Tiny stars dance in her pupils as her eyes roll in their sockets. They snap to him when his palm returns to her neck. It draws a groan out of his throat, that expression. Looking to him for permission. To come, to speak.

"Tell me how it feels."

"Good, 's good, sir. Fffuck! " 

Her wrist must be aching. He knows the rest of her is. "You want to come?" He presses a finger against her carotid, enough to encourage focus. "C'mon, words."

"Yes, please, sir—"

It's his day, but he lets her have it. She comes hard, choking his cock, forcing him to a furious grind and short, pointed thrusts. He follows not long after, hand slipping from her neck in a frantic, jerking motion, the last shred of control he has left before it overtakes him. When it does, it scours his thoughts clean, spills most of what's left into her, and she milks the dregs out. 

It's some time before he can ease out of her, and his length pulses with interest at the obscene sound of his exit. A filthy chuckle rattles out of him at the sight of his cum dribbling out after, freed by the suction. She's a mess. He adjusts, gets comfortable, and then digs his fingertips into the muscles of her upper thighs and glutes. Humming when she comes back online, panting, face buried in the pillow.

"Tired already?"

She manages to shake her head.

They'll take a break, for both their sakes. If the extra suitcase at the foot of the bed is any indicator, she's brought her entire toy chest with her. Enough to keep his hands busy in the downtime. Until morning. 

She's not too tired that she can't help him move her. He props himself up against the tufted headboard, its cheap fabric sopping up his sweat, and she drapes herself over his chest. Momentarily sated, temporarily sweet. Her hand splays across his chest, nails glinting like stained-glass windows. He stares at his initials—protected under a clear varnish, pristine and perfect. As fleeting as the calm. Branding her as his for a day. This only happens once a year. But seeing that 'P' stirs that old possessive streak. 

She drifts, her breathing evening out as her body recuperates. Won't take more than twenty minutes, tops. He could time it to the second if he cared, but he doesn't. He lets her rest, sprawled warm and weighty against him.

"Happy birthday, John." she sighs, her voice soft as a whisper over his chest, her breath blowing through the whorls of his hair.

Happy birthday indeed, he thinks, tracing a line between her shoulder blades.

She's the only piece of heaven he'll ever know. She's his. Theirs. But tonight, just his.

[regatoni1]

inspired by @/cordeliawhohung's amazing mafia au, in limbo, i had to draw chip and simon <3

[regatoni1]

‧₊˚red ochre * ੈ✩‧₊˚

viking!goap x nun!reader

↪ you become the unlikely treasure of two Vikings who raid your convent looking for gold

my nav

my masterlist

part one -> minium

part two -> woad and weld

part three -> orpiment

part four -> orchil

part five -> kermes

part six -> madder

[regatoni1]

Gripping onto John's pillow that reeks of his cologne, smashing your face into the pillow as your manicured nails rake down the bedsheet. John grabs your hips from behind his fingers burning and branding your skin as he grabs the fat of your hips, to bring you closer to the edge of the bed as his thighs bracket yours.

"Y'know what would be real nice love? If you finally give up the big girl act and move in with me, we both know you shouldn't be living in that old apartment- need y'here with me" John emphasizes while sliding deep inside, making room from him in the depths of your soul. One hand trailing up to your chest as he grabs a large handful of your chest rolling your nipple with his calloused fingers, toying with you since he knows you'll take whatever he gives you. "I'm moving you out of there and you'll keep my house warm when i'm on deployment huh?- i know you'd be a good girl like that. taking care of my house, my kids-FUCK" John swears as he feels you tighten under him, filling you up and pressing his furry chest into the slope of your arched back. Covering you from the cold winter night that took out all the power, your own personal heater. Even with your brain all hazy while he runs his hands down your sides, you know you might take him up on that offer.

[regatoni1]

born to marry him, forced to read fanfics about him

[regatoni1]

When I die someday, whether that's tomorrow or in ninety years, I'll die peacefully knowing that I fulfilled my life's work.

Which was getting strangers horny on the internet using lovingly written, highly personal AO3 smut that I handcrafted myself and kissed on the forehead before I sent it out into the world.

That's what I was put on this earth to do.