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billy butcher in ‘the boys’ season 1

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warnings: public sex, mentions of fisting, overstimulation, pussy inspections, thigh-riding, impact play, sex toys, bondage mentions?, possessiveness, rimming, masturbation, crying during sex, hair pulling, deepthroating, slut-shaming, this shit is so ooc but i could care less

exhibitionist!queen maeve who backs you up into any corner or wall at any chance she gets to push her muscled thigh between your own, testing your desperation and need for her in public "dont want people to hear us do you? for people to catch us? so do us both a favor and keep quiet." you could feel your own juices covering her thigh, but she kept at it. continuing to flex her thigh against your pussy until you finally came.

mean!queen maeve who slutshames you to humiliate you, putting her cigarettes out on your thighs. "you like being my ashtray, hm?" her big, veiny hands parting your legs to tease you through your panties as she groans mixed insults and praises. she wants to work you to the edge, see how fucking far you go but she knows you cant handle it. "come on look at me." she slaps your clothed clit harshly to get your attention but it just fucking tips you over, and you cum right then and there. shes surprised, but that doesnt keep her from rubbing you. "let me hear you. let me hear how much you like being fucked and slapped around like you're nothing. don't you have any self respect? any dignity? or are you just a whore? a whore, made to be used hm?"

possessive!queen maeve who bends you over any counter to inspect your pussy, making sure nobody has ever touched you besides herself. opening up your lips and poking and prodding at your open cunt, licking her lips as she pushes a finger or two in, listening to the way you whine and squeeze around her fingers. saying that "shes only ever wanted the best for you" while fucking your cunt with 3 fingers, her other hand grabbing your ass to hold you in place as you writhe. you shake and cry as she presses her thumb to rub your clit, wanting you to tell her that you'll never let anyone use you besides her. "your pussy was made for my fingers, they just fit so perfect. just makes me wonder how many i could fit, if i could maybe even fit my whole fuckin' hand in here." making it known that shes the only one who could touch and fuck you the way she does, the only one who knows how to play with you.

(CONSENSUAL) perverted!queen maeve who will stare at you like youre fucking meat. grope your tits while youre making the bed, only for her to finger your cunt until youre gushing onto her palm. she'll come up behind you while youre cleaning, pulling her arms around your waist and slipping her hands beneath the waistband of your panties. "i bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, bend you over anything." she says, her big hand cupping your pussy just so perfectly as she rubs your clit to completion. sometimes she'll even run her hands over the arch of your back and down to your ass while youre making dinner, pulling your pants down to your ankles as she drops to her knees to run her tongue over your perfect little hole. she'd even go as far to masturbate in the living room while you're watching tv "look don't touch" making you stare at her as she runs her own hands over her nipples, as she pushes a finger deep into her own pussy as you watch and listen.

pathetic!queen maeve who whines as she sucks on your clit, because shes just so damn desperate to please you. her hands clasp around your thighs and youre sure its gonna mark so you grab her hair, craning her head back so you can get a better look at her face. her mascara is running down her cheeks, your juices smeared around her lips, and all she can do is just look at you with the most pathetic puppy eyes ever. "all..all i ever want is you." soon enough you have her sprawled out on the bed, a vibrating bullet buried deep into her pussy, and all she can do is strain against the restraints as the toy brings her to climax."i just want...want to make you happy." later, shes back to her knees, crying as you push your fake cock deep into her throat. when you pull away from her all she does is push her face up closer to you, the spit-covered cock up against her cheek now.

touch starved!queen maeve who cums in a solid 3 minutes after not being with anyone in almost 5 years, shes almost embarrassed until you work her right up to another one. she's crying, tiny little tear drops leaving her eyes as she cums once more, and all she can do is beg. "pleasepleaseplease- fuck me again, i-i can take more." and she's desperate, really, you know that. but how can you fucking deny her when shes begging like that?

okay so this isnt the stuff i usually write, but ive been SOOO obsessed with her lately. yes i know there is grammar mistakes i wrote this so late at night so bear with me...if its that bad put it in grammarly <3

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kinda pervy!queen maeve x femsupe!reader

sorry this is so long but i finished season 3 and had to get this out of my system. maeve come home the kids miss you.

and pls more ppl write for her 🙏🙏

she doesn't want to be like this.  she really doesn't.  but as you sit down at your new seat across from her at your first seven meeting, all of her morals fly right out the window.

you're smiling up at homelander as he introduces you, but all maeve can see are your hands attempting to pull the low cut neckline of your suit up to cover more of your tits.  your suit's brand new and, like starlight's, shows more skin than your previous one which takes some getting used to on your end.

vought's costume department also made quite a few mistakes so your new suit is basically a size too small.  it's the world's best push-up bra, giving maeve so much to look at.  but it's the small opening of your suit over your rib cage that really gets her.  it shows just the teeniest big of your underboob and it's already driving her wild.

you're already not leaving up to imagination, but still, she wants to reach across the table and rip the black leather right off of you.  she wants to run her cold hands all over your chest and make your nipples turn hard under her thumbs.  she wants to grope and squeeze your tits and watch as your face morphs between pain and pleasure.

when you look over at her, you finally notice that she's been staring at you with what appears to be the meanest death glare you've ever seen.  she's leaning forward with her elbows on the table and a clenched jaw as if you're her next target.  you look away quickly, already scared of her.  you just hoped she didn't hate you.  she was your idol after all. oh, if you only knew what she was thinking.

you're too pre-occupied to notice, but every time you leave the conference room after a meeting, she always walks behind you.  of course, it's not an accident.  nothing she does is an accident.

she notices that whenever you walk in front of one of the boys (especially the deep), your hands constantly rest along the hem of your skirt which barely covers your bare ass, ready to pull it down and obstruct their prying eyes.  but with her, you don't seem to care.  it's probably because you think that you're both girls so you don't have anything to worry about.  little do you know she's the worst of them all.

her eyes constantly peek beneath your skirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of something.  a couple times she does get lucky and sees a bit of your white or pink cotton underwear.  one time she gets really lucky and instead catches your black lace panties and wonders who you could be wearing those for.  it's moments like those where she hopes you know she's looking.  she wants you to wear those for her, no one else.

but most days she's not that fortunate.  instead she just watches the sway of your hips and ass as you both walk over to the elevator.  again, she wants to run her hands all over you and feel every single curve.  she visualizes herself squeezing your ass and whispering in your ear how soft and smooth your skin is.  then she imagines bending you over something so she can see all of you.

but then you enter the elevator and turn around and smile sweetly at her.  having spent enough time in the seven, you know she won't ever smile back, but it doesn't really bother you.  you've accepted that's just who she is.  meanwhile, she contemplates pressing the emergency stop button, slamming you against the wall, and shoving her fingers so far inside of you that your brain goes fuzzy and tears are slipping down your pretty cheeks.

it's that same thought that keeps her awake at night.  she can almost hear your whines and moans echoing in her head.  she can hear you begging to cum all over her face and promising you'll be a good girl for her.  you're so loud in her head that she can't help but reach under her shorts and rub circles on her clit as she whispers your name into her pillow.  she thinks about fucking you so often that, to her, it feels like it's really happened.

one time she comes back late from a team-up and, on her way toward her room, peeks into the training room to find you practicing moves on a punching bag.  she stops and just watches through the window for a second.  your back is to her but your hair is up and she can see the sweat dripping off your neck, some of it hitting the mat beneath your feet.  she wonders what it tastes like.  probably salty, but also sweet because it's you after all.  she'd lick your sweat right off your neck in long stripes.  she'd probably lick it off the floor too if she was feeling extra thirsty.

she's torn.  she's tired and you look tired and if homelander catches her, he'll know something strange is going on.  but as you turn slightly toward her and use your tank top to wipe some sweat of your forehead, she makes her decision.

"hey" she says, leaning against the door frame.  you whip your head around and are more than surprised to see her of all people with her arms crossed over her chest and a smug half smile.  "need a training partner?"

you weren't going to say no to this uncharacteristically kind offering, even if you were just about to head upstairs.  so you're jumping around the mat at nearly midnight, dodging her blows and getting in a few licks of your own.  you're a pretty good fighter, but not as good as her, so it's not long before she has you pinned to the mat with one forearm against both your shoulders.

your chest is heaving beneath her arm and your mouth is slightly open.  she's never been this close to you before.  she feels like she's on fucking fire, feeling herself on top of you like this and feeling her skin against yours.  she would've been able to control herself if you weren't staring into her eyes like that, looking a little dazed but excited.  who can blame her for closing the distance and kissing you like there's no tomorrow?

you're beyond shocked.  more like stupefied.  you'd never even had an inkling that she had thought of you in this way.  in fact, you assumed she wanted to kill you sometimes.  but the way she kissed you so hard and dug her teeth in your bottom lip made you want her so badly that you could feel your panties growing wet.

with your little crush on her, you thought about this moment sometimes and assumed she'd be rough but my god she was rough with you that first time.  she barely let you move, keeping you completely pinned to the mat with one arm while the other snuck beneath your skirt.

"you don't even know how long i've been waiting for this," she whispers into your ear as her fingers push your panties to the side.  she's instantly assaulting your clit in fast, tight circles, leaving you writhing beneath her, though there's not much wiggle room between your bodies.

"maeve, what if somebody sees?" you ask between quiet whines.  what a suck up you were, constantly trying to gain points with the other members of the seven in hopes of gaining more power.  she especially hated the way you sucked up to homelander, always grinning at him and laughing at his stupid, gross jokes with hearts in your eyes.  a small part of her wanted him to see her fucking you so good.

"you'll keep taking my fingers, goody fucking two shoes," she says through gritted teeth before shoving a finger inside of you with no warning, causing your back to arch up and off of the mat.  "good girl, baby."

after that night, there's less staring and imagining but more touching and doing.  her hand grazes your ass when you pass each other in the hallway.  she pretends to swat a fly away from your chest and ends up smacking one of your tits.  it always ends with that same no-good smile.

you try your best to only end the night in maeve's room if homelander's out on a mission, but she grows impatient.  you're an addiction and every little taste she gets leaves her wanting more.  she especially gets handsy when you've spent a lot of unnecessary time with homelander.

"y'think he can fuck you like this?" she asks, her strap buried deep inside of you.  you're sat on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around her waist and hands tangled in her hair as she relentlessly pounds into you, pushing you toward your third orgasm.  you moan a "no" into her shoulder before biting down on her skin.  "yeah, that's what i thought.  if i see you touching him again, i swear i'll strip you naked and fuck you in front of him.  now cum before i change my mind and don't let you."

she once threatened to make you wear a vibrator to one of the seven meetings after you came back from a team-up with homelander's arm around your shoulders.  but, after a lot of begging and time spent on your hands and knees feverishly eating her out, maeve finally forgot about the idea.  he would've probably seen it anyways.

but, one of, if not her favorite time fucking you is on a random sunday when homelander's out doing day-time talk show interviews.  she drags you into the seven conference room and sits in homelander's chair at the head of the table.

"feels good, does it, baby?" you say, sitting on the edge of the table in front of her, reaching underneath your skirt and shimmying your panties off.

she sighs a sigh of accomplishment and leans her head back against the chair without taking her hungry eyes off of you.  "feels fucking fantastic."

then she's rolling her chair forward, locking her arms around your thighs, and pulling your pussy toward her mouth.  you lie back on the table with your legs over her shoulders and moan maeve's name as her lips enclose your clit and suck harshly.  she shushes you but with her lips against your cunt, the vibrations only leave you struggling to compose yourself.

the rush of power from eating you out in homelander's chair makes her hungrier than ever and she laps you up quickly, collecting your juices on her tongue and swallowing proudly to avoid leaving behind a mess.  "you taste better than ever, baby," she says, licking her lips before leaning down to give you a chaste kiss.

everything's going well until one fateful meeting when homelander's getting on your ass about some dumb little thing you said in an interview that's been twisted by fans and is now trending on twitter.  he was talking to you like you were a mentally unstable infant and it was starting to piss maeve off.

"hey, cool it, homelander," she interrupts him mid-sentence as he ranted on about your "tiny pea brain."  he turns his face, which was inches away from yours, toward maeve who was coolly leaned back in her chair.  they had a stern staring contest for a few moments before something inside of him snapped.

"just cause y/n's slutting herself out to you doesn't mean you have to be her lesbian knight in shining armor, maeve."  maeve was far better at hiding her shock than you were.  "yeah i fucking knew about you two.  don't think you can hide anything from me."

and that was when your secret arrangement turned into a very public one.  you would be lucky to escape this situation with your life.  luckily maeve would never let you go without a fight.

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JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN Destination X | S01E01 - Welcome to Destination X

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I want to remind all my young and impressionable girlies (age doesn’t matter really), that sex is a big commitment.

Sex: isn’t always fun like writers describe it too be

Sex: contain bad consequences. Like STD’s, unplanned childbirths, abuse.

Boyfriends: aren’t always meant to be trusted, even if you “love him”

Boyfriends: ARE STILL BOYS. They can say whatever they want to push you in the direction to do things for them.

Reading about sex bad having sex are two different things. Although I don’t care for the term virginity (social construct to make men look superior and women inferior) you must always, always, always put your self first!

I personally believe teenagers (yes, that includes 18-19) shouldn’t have sex. I’m well aware it ‘takes two to tango’ but it’s usually the women who end up with all the problems.

KEEP YOURSELF SAFE. This is something you should be very selfish about

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Desperate as the air I breathe in you. (C. Novak)

Summary: At this point, it was a need.

Contains: Longing, pining, resolving tension, smutty but not all the way, kissing, dryhumping, your both need sick for each other, its pathetic but hey, Castiel is…ooh boy- i wrote this is 30 minutes because this cow eyed, pink mouthed, pathetic pout man is driving me up a goddamn wall and I’m legitimately losing my mind. Whatever happens DO NOT let me anywhere near Misha because I’ll pull his pants down and show the convention something real supernatural😭

A/N- please k!ll me. I’m honest tweaking he’s the finest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life and I can’t take it anymore

You’d all been invited to a concert on hunting business.

Not sure how you got here though.

Panting against each others mouths where your lips crash together in an intense kiss. Your fingers tangle into the back of his hair; moving together in hopeless desperation as you kiss and kiss and kiss. Kissing until he’s lost.

Unsure of where he ends and you begin.

He feels something rise in him and he cups your cheeks, kissing back even harder before he drags himself away from your lips as he stares longingly into your lovestruck eyes. His lips are flushed and swollen as he rasps out,

“We- we should stop. The others…” Castiel trails off, voice reluctant and hoarse with neediness as you remember why you were at the concert to begin with. Some demon had been inciting crowds during the nights shows, causing almost every performance to end in bloodshed. As much as you wanted to stay lost in him, you two had a job to do.

You breathe in a shaky inhale, nodding against his forehead, whispering as you repeat his words.

“Right…we should stop..”

You two share a look for a beat then you’re surging back into each other all over again, heart pounding as Cas pulls you tighter against him; his own head spinning as you open your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss as his tongue meets yours in a heady caress. It’s the most insane he’s ever felt and you’re just as bad- whining as he wrenches his mouth off yours, stupidly big blue eyes looking into your own. Brows creasing like he’s in pain as he groans.

“We need to stop.” Your chest heaves with each desperate inhale of him and before you can repeat after him, he’s pulling you right back; swallowing your mouth and setting your body alight as you’re consumed by the heat of his kiss, simmering pleasure beginning to burn underneath your skin.

Whoever’s idea it was to leave you two to investigate backstage with just each other was an idiot.

Weeks of tension were bound to lead to something especially since you liked each other too much to tiptoe around each other forever. The time for that was clearly over as he lifted you and your squirming hips harder against the wall, grinding against your core through your clothes, moaning with you when you start to move with him- kiss growing frantic as you dryhump like nothing else mattered.

You couldn’t separate- you’ve needed each other for so long but there was always something, some wrong- somewhere but now..whether it was the atmosphere or the hum from the infectious music still pulsing through your veins; you’d finally decided to just let go now and worry later as you drowned yourselves in each other.

A ragged moan leaves Castiel at your nails running through his scalp, hands then running down over his firm shoulders to squeeze at his thick biceps through the snug grey shirt that wasn’t even his. It was Dean’s so it was a bit tight but you loved it; loved the headrush you got from feeling up how surprisingly big he was. Your pleased hums vibrate his lips making the rest of any responsible thought disappear as he lets you take his hands in yours and move them to the hem of your shirt- breaking the kiss briefly to lift it off you in one move.

He takes you in before pulling you back to him with a hungry groan, slotting his mouth hot and heavy against yours as your hands cover his over where they cup your breasts. The way you felt against him was nothing short of divine and he swears in this moment that if he were to suddenly die, all anyone would have to do was speak you over his grave and watch as you brought him back to life.

Roaming hands, messy lips driven by affection and desperation, overdue indulgence and anxiously pounding hearts make up the two of you as your hips roll into each other. Castiel’s gone from kissing your lips to kissing everywhere his pink mouth could reach. Your chin, jaw, cheeks, and now neck. Pressing firm wet lips to the sensitive skin; giving it the same treatment as he did your lips. You throw your head back with a warbled moan making his hips grind harder against you- the friction on your cunt is vicious, clit throbbing as your orgasm builds.

Castiel is in a world of his own as he gets swept away, cast out to the heaven that is nothing but you you you you you-

The rest of the team will have to manage.

You’ll be busy for a while.

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Summary: After a long case, sometimes all you need is your girlfriend’s safe arms and Spencer’s comforting rambling

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem! reader, platonic! Spencer Reid

Tags: comfort, fluff, established relationship, pet names

Your whole body feels heavy as you finally enter the plane after a case that felt like it dragged on for weeks.

Weeks of misery and pain, the cries of victims still ringing in your ears, seeing the written taunts of the unsub that got on for way too long every time you close your eyes.

You sigh heavily as you drop your travel bag onto the floor of the plane, causing Derek to almost trip, who lets out a scoff. You shoot a little apologetic smile, not all there with your head.

Your girlfriend notices, of course she does. You reach down for your bag, attempting to grab your paperwork.

Emily comes up behind you, her one hand stopping you by grabbing your bag from you, her other arm wrapping around your waist, chin on your shoulder. ‘Why don’t we lay down, sweet girl? You’ve worked hard enough. C’mon’ she whispers sweetly in your ear, coaxing you to sit down on the couch.

The rest of the team didn’t pay the new couple too much attention, although you tried to keep it professional during work, that could be pushed aside on these hard cases.

Emily moved down onto the couch, legs spread on the soft fabric of the couch of the BAU private plane. Her fingers hoop through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you down onto her lap, making a little smile pulls on your lips.

She guides you to lay down onto her lap, her arms around you. You let out a soft sigh, as her hands run over your sides she can feel the tension in your muscles.

‘That was a hard one, huh?’ she coos softly, hand coming up to gently brush over your face, thumb brushing over the frown between your eyebrows as if helping the muscles relax.

You nod your head, staring off into the distance, ‘I- I should’ve had him that first time. He was right there’ you murmur quietly, sadly, curling your legs around your girlfriend, as if crimping in on yourself.

Emily hugs you a little tighter, pressing a little featherlight kiss to your forehead. ‘You did everything you could baby, did so good. You need to rest now’ she says softly and you nod your head hesitantly but too tired to argue, resting it against Emily’s chest, she brushes your hair away from your face.

The soft rumbling of the plane starting and your girlfriends fingers massaging your scalp guide you into a more relaxed state. You take in her scent, the feeling of her shirt, reminding yourself the unsub is caught and you’re safe. The exhaustion from the days of missed sleep quickly pull you into a deep sleep.

You get pulled to consciousness a while later, head still positively fuzzy from sleep, limbs too heavy and tired to really move. You feel Emily’s chest rumble under your face as she laughs, her hands still on your skin, safe and familiar.

You recognize Spencer’s voice, although the words don’t really register immediately in your sleep heavy brain. ‘And did you know, multiple Harvard studies show how a happy relationship lower the risks of developing cardiovascular disease by almost 48% compared to stressful relationships-‘ Spencer rambles in his familiar way.

You turn around in Emily’s arms, facing the younger agent that sits across from the couch, talking to your girlfriend. ‘Wow, your heart must be so healthy’ you playfully murmur in a sleep heavy hoarse whisper, eyelashes fluttering as you get adjusted to the light.

‘oh- sorry. Did I wake you?’ Spencer’s gaze softens to a low murmur. You let out a soft groan, stretching your legs out like a cat, Emily smiles fondly as her hand trails through your hair. ‘Mmh no, didn’t wake me Spence’ You murmur in a little hoarse morning voice, adjusting your position on the little airplane couch, nuzzling your head closer to your girlfriend’s chest.

‘Yeah, the healthiest’ Emily says with playful amusement, pressing a kiss to your warm forehead in greeting, ‘even healthier if you’d get enough sleep angel’

Spencer smiles apologetically, ‘Yeah, you should sleep some more, I’ll be quiet’ he says softly, and you quickly shake your head. ‘Mh, no, I like your voice Spence, comforting, go on’ you whisper softly, glancing at him, thumb sleepily resting between your lips, safe and warm in your girlfriends arms.

A/N: omg I haven’t written anything in forever!! but I’m trying to push my embarrassment and avoidance away and actually just try as practice. English isn’t my first language and I’m totally inexperienced as a writer so please be gentle:)

I’m also still kind of new to actually posting myself on tumblr so hope this doesn’t look all messed up lol. But if you have any requests or anything I’m open!!

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going thru the motions currently but hear me out !!!

there’s something about crying in soldier boy’s arms, finally letting your walls down, and telling him about your fucked-up relationship with your father.

and you’re there sobbing, recounting every moment that’s left you feeling abandoned, neglected, and forgotten by your own dad; your daddy issues are on full display—baring your entire soul for ben to see—and you just can’t help it.

and maybe you’re embarrassed by the tears and the way you hiccup and trip over words, mortified by how much is spilling out of your mouth. because ben doesn’t need to know this. he can’t fix it for you.

meanwhile, ben’s there seething, rubbing your back more so to soothe himself rather than you, because he’s sitting there wondering how someone could treat you like that. how someone could see the sweet little girl in his arms and not want to give her the world.

and so he’s kissing the top of your head, rubbing your back, and wiping away your tears as you cry. “s’okay, babygirl. you’re mine now. my little girl. i’ll treat you right. i’ll be the dad you deserve, yeah? god, i’d beat the everliving shit out of that asshole for you… all you gotta do is ask.”

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— our little secret ft. SOLDIER BOY

SYNOPSIS: ben is your sneaky link and the sexual chemistry is undeniable.

WARNINGS: NSFW (18+) / sneaky link!ben / daddy kink / borderline fauxcest / squirting / p-in-v / age-gap / consistent hook ups with ben / fem!reader / reader is besties with hughie campbell WORD COUNT: 1110 LOVE NOTE: i posted this on my other account before i restarted so i'm putting it back here

Like clockwork, you showed up at Ben’s place. Just after dinner, right before bed. It was a routine that you had been participating in for a little over a month now, sneaking over to Ben’s and sliding in between his sheets so he could fuck you until it was hard to speak and your body was quivering. You would never admit this, but Ben was the best you ever had. In other words, you were completely dickmatized. 

As soon as Ben let you inside, his fingers were locked onto your belt loop, pulling you closer until your body’s were pressed together. Roughly, because nothing with Ben was ever gentle, he pushed his lips against yours, backing you into the front door to close it. This was the routine, the same one you did every night, the pair of you always up to nothing good. 

In the morning you would sneak out, quietly tiptoeing out the front with your clothes tucked under the wing of your arm, wearing only one of Ben’s shirts and dirty panties from the night before. Sometimes they even had Ben’s dried cum on the ass. 

As one of Hughie Campbell’s best friends, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone about this. Maybe Hughie worked with him, maybe they had a common goal, but you knew how the rest of the boys felt about Ben— especially MM. The worst part about it was that this would be a huge shock to everyone if they found out. You were just too sweet for Soldier Boy, too girlish, too lovely. Every time you had considered coming clean about your late night activities, shame washed through you, feeling like Ben’s on-call whore, which didn’t suit your character at all.

Tonight you were back in Ben’s bed, fileted out like his after dinner snack, “my dessert always shows up on time,” Ben had told you, the look in his eyes already fucked out as he climbed on top of you. 

When you first started hooking up, you really weren’t even sure how it happened. He said something about how you looked too tense, how you took life too seriously. One thing led to another and his fingers were buried deep inside you, whines and moans filtering throughout the room. From that moment on, you were hooked. Drunk on desire and desperate for his approval.

“You ashamed of me?” Ben had you completely undressed at this point, dragging his finger from the base of your chin, down your neck, and over your stomach. He stopped just above your hips, waiting for an answer.

The way he was on top of you gave him all the control, but that’s how he liked it. You couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy it because that would be a damn lie. Being thrown around like Ben’s personal toy is what you looked forward to everyday. Constantly being around Hughie meant that you were often around Soldier Boy, and he knew better than to make suggestive comments toward you around others, but between the both of you, you would share lust-filled glances. It was a longing desire you felt throughout the day, leading up to your late night calls.

“Yes,” you admitted, Ben’s thumbs lingering on your hips while he laced the rest of his fingers around your back. He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, getting you in your favorite position. You felt mean for being ashamed of your extracurricular activities with Ben, but you knew he liked you a bit ashamed. It was part of the game for him. 

The position you both liked to start in was very basic. Laying on the bed, with your legs dangling over the edge. Ben fit himself in between your legs like a puzzle piece, his hard cock eager to enter you. Propping yourself up, you watched Ben slide his cock into you, eyes dilated as the full length of his shaft disappeared. Ben let out a self-righteous whistle, enjoying the way you always sucked him up desperately. It was his own personal show and he was subscribed to every season.

“What’s there to be ashamed about? You think I’m a bad guy, sweetheart?” The words came out in short breaths, filtered between grunts. You squeezed around so tightly, it was sensory overload for the both of you, but Ben would never admit that you drive him a little crazy. That’s just not who he is, even if he is completely pussy-whipped.

“Uh huh,” you admitted, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Mouth watering and eyes fluttering, you sunk deeper in the bed as Ben bottomed out. 

“Or is it because you hate that you like older men, huh? You just want a father figure,” Ben grunted, one of his hands pushing your legs from the way they were wrapped around his torso to give him enough room to pull his cock almost all of the way out before slamming back into you.

Father figure. Your stomach turned, hot arousal twisting you up completely as you squeezed around him, your arrival approaching quicker than either of you had anticipated. Ben could get you to finish quickly, but never in just a few thrusts. He was far more experienced than you, knowing exactly what spots to press against, which areas to rub, so when he felt you nearing your first orgasm of the night, his eyebrows perked up while amusement caused a sparkle in his eyes.

“Father figure?” Ben tried again, and he was met with the same reaction of your walls clenching, the slick arousal sliding out of you and coating your ass. It clicked for him, a mischievous smile brewing, “what? You wanna call me dad?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over the corners. His words, combined with the way he was thrusting inside of you just felt too good and your body didn’t know how else to express the emotion. Quivering underneath him, Ben leaned forward but remained in between your legs. Fingers eagerly moved against your clit, soft and steady as he whispered in your ear, “Dad will take care of ya.”

That’s all he had to say to bring you to the edge, your orgasm washing through you. Although, this orgasm was not like the others Ben had given you, it was much more intense and a lot wetter than the others, spraying against his abdomen. There was an unfamiliar shake in your legs as you gasped for air.

Ben chuckled in disbelief as he looked at his soaked abs, his cock still tucked inside of you. Bringing a thumb to your cheek and wiping the single tear that happened to escape (an act that was so unlike him), he couldn’t help but comment, “don’t worry, darlin’, I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

[soupymari]

໑ৎ — thinking about SOLDIER BOY and his little spit–obsessed bunny girlfriend…

warnings: no plot smut, dry humping, daddy kink, use of ‘dad’ once, spit kink, teasing/mocking, lowkey pathetic reader (daddy!soldier boy x bunny!reader) 18+

࿐ ˚ 　· 　　 .

ben’s gone his whole life thinking he’s a sexual deviant, enjoying marking up his partners and taming them all into submission, loving the way he can get just about any woman to call him daddy.

but when he started seeing you, he found himself in new territory—unfamiliar territory.

ben didn’t realise how much he’d been missing out on until he met you. you’re filthy and just so unashamedly needy, unlike any woman he’s ever been with, and he just can’t get enough of it. the way you’re always begging for his fingers in your mouth with wide doe eyes or begging him to fill your mouth with his smokey, whiskey flavoured spit drives him wild. you’re insatiable, and it's like you’re his own personal slice of heaven, letting him use you in any way he pleases.

he loves the way you so shamelessly sit perched upon his lap, bouncing around in front of him, so needy and wanton, with your pretty pleading eyes, round and glimmering with anticipation, like a little puppy in need of attention.

you eagerly grind down onto his lap in just your t-shirt and panties, rubbing your swollen tumescent cunt against his hardened length. your puffy folds spread apart over the thick bulge, desperately searching for friction against his sweatpants. he watches you with a mixture of amusement and need, your filthy fucking antics setting his body on fire.

ben meets your eyes, seeing the way they’re already droopy. “bunny, don’t look at me like that,” he chuckles, the rough sound reverberating in his chest. his hips buck up to meet your movements, and you feel him rubbing the hard line of his cock against your slit. his large hands find your hips, grabbing ahold of them, his fingers digging into the plush skin, helping guide your movements.

your lips purse at his words, and ben rolls his eyes, his face gleaming in amusement at your little pout. he watches you open your mouth and stare right back at him with a childish petulant look on your face—waiting, watching expectantly.

ben’s face morphs into a cruel expression, a smirk that tugs up at his lips, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. a thick wad of his saliva lands on your tongue, filling your mouth with his taste. “swallow. now,” he says, his eyes boring into you. you do as you’re told and swallow, opening your mouth again to show him you’d done what he’d asked. your eyes search his with an eagerness that says, ‘i did it, look at me! tell me i did good!’

ben revels in the needy look you're giving him, so pathetic and desperate; it’s almost laughable, and as much as he wants to kiss you senseless and knock that eager little look off your face by shoving his tongue down your throat, his need to remind you of his power over you wins.

he’s quick to force his fingers into your mouth, his middle and index pressing against your tongue, instead of giving you the praise you’re so obviously yearning for. he ignores the way your face falls momentarily as your brain tries to catch up with the intrusion of his meaty fingers. “suck,” he commands, his voice low, watching as your lips gingerly wrap around his digits. “be a good girl.”

you hum with your mouth stuffed full, and you lap at them with your tongue, soaking up the lingering taste of tobacco smoke on his fingertips. your greedy mouth sucks around his fingers so fervently that drool manages to escape from the corner of your lips, but ben’s keen eye catches it, and he wipes it away with his thumb before bringing it to his lips and cleaning your mess off his finger. “mmm, taste so pretty, bunny,” he croons, his voice a low hum.

your lips pull into a smile around his salty fingers, and your hips continue to meet, rubbing your heat against each other, both of you getting more worked up as your panties grow wetter and wetter. ben’s cock dribbles out precum into his boxers, and the thin material of his sweatpants starts to darken from your arousal, leaving a little wet patch on his lap.

ben’s breathing gets heavier as he watches you engulf his fingers completely, doing just what he asked—submitting to him. the feeling of your tongue swirling around his fingertips sends all his remaining blood rushing south, only making his cock swell more. he slowly pulls his fingers out from the wet warmth of your mouth, his eyes locked on a string of saliva still connected to his fingertip and your lips.

“fuck, baby. such a messy girl,” ben huffs, slightly in adoration, slightly mockingly. his hand moves down to your throat, just resting on the side of your neck, feeling your pulse rapidly beat under his calloused skin. his thumb rubs over the column of your throat, letting his eyes flicker between yours and your mouth.

“daddy,” you whine, “please…”

your petulant little pout and the tone of your voice make ben’s dick twitch between your folds. it’s pathetic, the way he takes you apart so easily. “use your words, bun. c’mon. please what, huh?” he asks, the mockery still laced thick in his tone. his eyes glimmer with mirth and linger on the dribble on your lips and chin. he loves it, seeing you all wet and dishevelled for him. it drives him mad in the best fucking way.

he knows he’s whipped. and he doesn’t even fucking care.

“i want your tongue,” you tilt your head eagerly for him, your eyes searching his, silently pleading for something, anything; just a little gesture of softness, something to quell the burning need that pools in your core.

“oh, yeah? baby wants my tongue? for what?” he taunts, his warm hand giving your neck a squeeze, smirking as a soft noise bubbles up from low in your throat.

“ben—”

“try again,” he cuts you off, correcting you instantly.

“daddy,” you huff out sulkily, “kiss me.”

a calculated grin grows on ben’s lips at your whiny demand, the amusement written all over his face. “kiss you? darlin’, i don’t know if you deserve to be kissed.”

he has to hold back a laugh as he watches your face sullen even more, your sweet features pulled down by the expression. you look silly, your face all contorted and grouchy because he won’t give in, despite the both of you knowing he wants nothing more than to kiss you until you’re breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl. don’t give me that look. you’re too pretty to pout like that.” ben gives your neck another warning squeeze before letting go and gently grabbing your chin instead, tilting your face up to meet his head-on. his eyes fall over your face, analysing you, enjoying the way you reluctantly meet his intense gaze. he hums in thought, brushing his thumb over your pout, as if to soothe it away.

you take the small gesture in good faith and kiss the pad of his thumb softly, before gingerly taking it between your lips. your tongue laps at it with your sulky little puppy dog eyes watching him tentatively, like he’s going to pull away and tell you off. 

but ben lets you suck on his thumb, watching it pacify your needy behaviour. you’re such a damn baby, he thinks.

a groan rumbles up from deep in his chest, like you’ve yanked it straight from his lungs with your sweet ministrations. your droopy eyes stay locked on his in the most filthily deplorable way—like a little puppy begging for attention, sucking up to its owner in hopes of a treat. it’s so pathetic and pitiful, but it’s just how ben likes his women.

your tongue circles his thumb, teasingly so, like you're offering a show of what you can give him if he’d just play nice. a shameless moan escapes past your lips, hurling straight into his ears and landing down in his core. you feel ben twitch against your weeping heat again, the desire growing rampant between you.

“yeah, good girl. just like that. my sweet little slut knows just what to do, doesn’t she?” ben coos tauntingly, letting the smooth words fall from his mouth.

the friction from your grinding slowly builds a pressure in your lower stomach; a fiery heat simmers from your clit rubbing against him, your slick entrance squeezing around nothing. ben feels your pretty little cunt fluttering for him, and he huffs; he knows just how to get you open and ready to take his chubby cock.

the tension keeps growing between you, and so does the friction, as you salaciously suck his thumb, like it’s a pacifier or dummy, keeping your mouth busy instead of whining like he knows you’d be doing otherwise. your wide pleading eyes beg for more as you let drool spill from your mouth. his blown-out green eyes follow the spit, and he so badly wants to clean it up with his tongue, but he doesn’t. you’re such a needy little fucking tease, and yet, he refuses to give in to you.

when ben pulls his hand back, another petulant pout grows on your lips again. he tuts his tongue against his teeth. “be good, bunny, and maybe you’ll get that kiss, yeah?”

you huff in response and whine. “i am good,” you try to argue back, dying for his thumb back or tongue—hell, anything—to pacify your damn oral fixation.

ben lets out a hearty chuckle at your whinging, his eyes locked on your tongue licking up the stray saliva spilt around your swollen lips. “bun, you’re a tease. a brat who just can’t help herself. you’re lucky i think you’re so goddamn pretty, ‘specially with those twinkling cocksucking eyes of yours, sweets.”

your eyes light up at his foul words, and the pout on your lips dissipates a little, morphing into a small strange sheepish smile. ben watches the way you react, and he decides to let up a smidge, “alright, fine. c’mere. give daddy a kiss. a proper one. none of that goldfish peckin’ bullshit. i've taught you better.”

his words go over your head; you’re too in a state to care. you’re quick to attach your lips to his, parting them to allow his tongue to tangle with yours, letting him lead the dance in your mouth. your body continues to move itself, grinding your soaked cunt even harder into his lap. his sloppy kisses and the way he leads the kiss so dominantly send sparks flying throughout your body, making your pretty little clit twitch in your drenched underwear. you moan carnally into his mouth, not caring at how your attitude has faded into sheer desperation or how smug you know it’s making him.

ben rolls his hips up into yours firmer, his sensitive length nudging apart your pussy lips completely, rubbing against you in the most heavenly way. he takes over, one hand scrunched in your hair, the other on your hip, guiding you to hump his erection like the sweet bunny you are.

and so you roll your hips, meeting his, and your mind clouds over entirely, your whinging little girl act completely placated by ben and his thick fucking cock pressing against you. he grunts, feeling all self-satisfied, at how easily he’s managed to dismantle you—and your pitiful fucking attitude—just by kissing you and rubbing your clit a little.

you whine into the kiss, hastily humping your hips into ben’s. he doesn’t call you bunny for nothing. your body shivers as the coil tightens in your stomach, your needy cunt twitching and tightening around nothing, weeping into your panties, begging to be stretched out by the supe’s stupendous girthy length.

you’re so goddamn reactive to him; he feels your arousal drenching his sweatpants further, the same way your spit drools out of your attached mouths, coating the bottom half of your faces. you're a mess, and you just can’t help it.

he breaks the kiss, earning a grunt from you in protest as you chase his lips.

“mmm… bun, no,” he pulls his head back, panting slightly. “be a good girl. c’mon, make yourself cum on daddy’s lap. let dad see how good it feels, yeah?”

his vulgar words of mock encouragement send chills right down to your puffy little cunt. you rub yourself against him faster and faster, curling your fingers into his shoulders to keep yourself upright. the pleasure builds in your core; you’re so close to toppling over the edge. your jaw hangs open while your sweet noises bubble up your throat, and ben can’t help but think how adorable you are, how desperate and cockdrunk you look, and you’re not even bouncing on it like a good little bunny yet. you’re just such a good girl—exactly what a rough boorish man like him needs.

ben brings his hand to your throat again, though roughly gripping at it this time, like he’s helping squeeze out your sweet melodic sounds of pleasure. “yeah, bunny. look at you. s’that feel good, baby? rubbing on daddy like that?” he coos, the mockery still blatantly dripping from his tone.

his mean taunting words make your pretty cunt flutter. he tightens his grip around your neck, stifling your breath slightly, making your mewls sound choked and weak. your nails dig into his shoulders as you grind, and you wonder how he’s not losing composure the same way you are. you slowly nod in response to his question, like a good little doll, and try to meet his eyes through your heavy-lidded ones.

“yeah? c’mon, babygirl. show daddy what a sweet girl you are for me. cum, bunny, cum.”

he talks down to you like an owner speaks to their dog, but somehow, that does it for you and your cockdrunk hazy brain. a wave of pleasure crashes over you; your pussy clenches and twitches as you ride out your high, still humping his lap. what a good little bunny. your tired thigh muscles spasm, exhausted from the overexertion.

your sweet sighs of pleasure are music to ben’s ears. his dick twitches underneath you, completely soaked by your arousal and juices from your orgasm, drenching through his sweats and boxers, and his dick threatens to spill right there into his pants at the sight and feel of you coming undone, but he keeps himself from letting go just yet.

“there you go. jesus, that never gets old, does it? look at you, bunny. such a good girl for daddy. makin’ a mess on my fuckin’ pants, aye?” he laughs, watching your flushed face scrunch in ecstasy.

your twitching hips finally come to a still against his. you settle in the warm wetness of his lap, and the friction of your underwear against your sensitive clit makes you squeak. ben grins as the sound hits his ears, and he squeezes your neck, forcing more pretty sounds from you.

he seizes the opportunity and spits a wad of saliva into your agape mouth. it lands perfectly on your tongue, blessing your tastebuds with his sweet and smokey taste, and it's so disrespectful, but it still manages to make your eyes roll back into your head, which makes ben huff out a laugh, the sound low and winded.

“you with me, toots?” he asks, gently smacking your cheek with his free hand, ridiculing you for your lack of cognisance. “was just a little orgasm, doll. don’t be all pathetic now.”

“daddy,” you whine out, your voice hoarse from panting in and out of your open mouth. your rounded eyes blink up at him as his saliva spills out the side of your mouth before you manage to swallow it, still entirely too hazy to really fathom what he’s saying.

ben tuts at you. “wasting my spit again, bun? you know i don’t like that,” he huffs out, still slightly winded, and grips your throat harder, earning another surprised squeak from you.

you shake your head, meeting his eyes with your own blown-out droopy ones. “no, m’sorry. please give me more.”

ben narrows his eyes at you, weighing up his options in his head, but ultimately he decides you’ve been good enough, doing what he says and doing it obediently, and it makes him proud—he’s trained you well.

“open then, sweetheart,” he finally says, his gaze falling over your face and your swollen mouth.

your lips part instantly, and another glob of spit lands on your tongue. you roll it around in your mouth for him to see before you swallow, keeping your eyes locked on him. he feels the movement of your throat under his palm.

“atta girl, swallowing like that for daddy. my pretty bunny,” ben murmurs with his thick gravelly tone. a smirk spreads across his face as he pulls yours towards him, the motion rough and unforgiving. “my good little pet, yeah? you’re my good girl, always doing what i say. fuckin’ good little thing, you are. you know how to make your old man proud.”

fig yaps: is this weird? idk!!!! do i hate this? a lot!!!!!! not my finest work but i said i’d post it so here we are !! anyways girls with an oral fixation and a daddy kink stand up!!! this is 4 u! soldier boy + dry humping will forever be my go-to !!!!!!!

feedback and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated ofc! thank u!

⟡ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @jensenacklesballsack @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @littlesoulshine @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @freeluigihesbae @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @lanasgirlfr @seven7lee @nymphet-quenn @rafessweetgirl @maeji-may @eternalssunshinee @blossomingorchids @benscumgluzzer @soldiersgirl @arcannaa @gibson-g1rl @vmiina @h8aaz + the rest in the comments sorry!

↑ comment to be added / removed (zero judgement) !

[soupymari]

Supernatural p links!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

18+ minors do not interact or click the links! Each link contains porn. All links are from twitter. You must be logged into Twitter for the links to open!

includes: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, and Castiel

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Dean Winchester

Dean cumming all over you after a hunt

getting dicked down in the bathtub

Halloween party with Dean

waking him up for a creampie

losing your anal virginity to Dean

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Sam Winchester

getting caught watching porn & Sam helps you out

threesome with Sam & Ruby

size kink with big dick!Sam

first time letting Sam fuck you raw

riding his face in Dean’s car

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Castiel

virgin!Cas finally getting to fuck you

husband!Castiel playing with your pussy before bed

Castiel slurping your pussy after a long day

dom!Cas making you squirt

filming you take his cock for jerk off material

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

@procrastination20 @holeforjoel @anglesdiva @maddixsonscave @dina2003 @arrowenchantress @tomorrowseverything @babygirl8900 @luvleykiki @taestrwbrry @iloveyou2mia @where-is-my-reflection @orangebitchsworld @thefailwriter @autistic-gothic @tribulationsandpoetry @darksided5 @prozac-scum @hobby27 @ghoestwalkingg @ryrywrites @screechybeech

[soupymari]

just know dean is overstimulation bastard that wont stop until you squirt or smth if you can

and that dean ``we cant afford to get attatched to people in our way of life, sammy `` purposely just do it raw,cockwarms n all that finger the rest inside again ``just to not waste it``

srry.ovulating

ohhhhh absolutely this is canon to me actually !!! this accidentally turned into a lil drabble so 18+

⟅ ੭ 𓂃 ˖ ࣪ .

dean doesn’t mean to overstimulate you. it’s purely for his own entertainment, just playing between your legs, seeing what he can make you do with his fingers and mouth and cock. but when he manages to get you to you squirt, lordddd does he go weak at the knees? it’s his favourite damn thing watching you whine and writhe, begging for some mercy. “jesus, baby. yeah, that’s it. look at me. you’re like a friggin’ fountain, sweetheart, just f’me.”

it gets his dick so fucking hard, watching you crumble underneath him. but it’s not like he’s even really trying; he just has that effect on you, making you melt into a snivelling whining mess.

and of course he’s making you cockwarm him, making you take him raw. he’s such a whiny baby, “please, baby. feels so much better without the latex crap. it’ll feel so good for both of us. please.” and so inevitably you give in, and he’s right, it does feel so much better.

and so you never fuck with protection anymore; you don’t even think about it until he’s suddenly cumming in you every time without even asking. it’s just habit now. and you don’t overthink it until he’s gawking at your cunt, watching his seed drip out. and you watch his face; it’s contorted in a strange combination of fulfilment and reluctance, like he’s holding himself back from something.

but that look doesn’t last for long, cause he’s suddenly got his fingers inside you, scissoring them around, plugging your hole with his thick digits. “can’t waste it, baby. can’t waste a drop. need you full of me. please, it’s so hot.”

it’s not until his ragged breathing calms and your eyes meet that you both realise perhaps these physical encounters have grown a little beyond… just physical?

[soupymari]

threesome with ruby and dean :(

18+ MDNI!! unprotected p in v (don’t) dean being into lesbians ? mean!ruby

your thighs are wrapped around dean’s head as he sucks on your clit, like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. his toned arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to him so he could get more of you. his green irises gleaming as he stares into your eyes through his thick eyelashes, his pupils blown wide. his eyes shift to your side, the soft gleam in them disappearing almost immediately as he sees ruby.

if looks could kill ruby would be dead by now, dean narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to see right past her. but you didn’t notice that. too busy focusing on the feeling of ruby’s lips against your own, the kiss was full of need, pent-up frustration and pure sin. it wasn’t gentle either, it was full of possessive force, all of it coming from ruby. her tongue claims more territory as she deepens the kiss, the heat of everything almost too overwhelming. both dean and ruby devouring you with their tongues.

no matter how many times you three did this together, no matter how many times he was around you and ruby, you were the only one of those two that he softened for. he’s always thought of ruby as nothing but a manipulative demon, always getting in his way. he never liked her, but since you always insisted on having her there too he couldn’t say no, right? and besides he enjoyed the way she always had you like a whimpering mess, wrapped around her finger.

your soft gasps and moans are muffled by ruby’s lips, which is honestly good since noises you’re making would definitely be heard to the room next door. the motel walls aren’t that thick, dean had said many times, from experience. you couldn’t breathe, feeling overstimulated all over, but you couldn’t pull away from either ruby or dean. ruby’s lips too intoxicating on yours, and dean’s grip on your thighs nearly bruising. ruby brushes your hair out of your face softly, her nails tangling with your locs as she caresses your hair.

ruby eventually breaks the kiss, letting out a soft sigh at the loss of your lips. as soon as the kiss broke you let out a soft cry, finally letting dean hear how good he’s making you feel, and if that didn’t make his already high-confidence even higher he doesn’t know what. “baby you gotta be quiet, don’t want the people next door t’hear you.” dean coos against your inner thigh, halting his actions for a moment, making you let out a soft whine. he presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh before he gently bites on it, sucking on the bite mark after, creating a faint red bruise there. it has you tugging on his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp.

“you heard him.” ruby coos, as if she’s mocking you for the noises you’re making. it has dean rolling his eyes, he didn’t need her confirming his words. dean removes his other hand from your thigh, bringing it between your legs as he teases your entrance with his fingers. pushing the his ring finger inside your pussy, watching you closely to observe your reaction. your warm gummy walls immediately clench around his finger, sucking it right in. it has dean grinning, like he’s proud of himself for getting you this riled up and needy.

it doesn’t take long for dean to find your g-spot, it’s like he knows your body better than you do. his fingers curl against the spongy spot inside you, it has your back arching off of the dingy motel bed. both dean and ruby seem extremely turned on by your responsiveness, with dean finally taking his other hand off your thigh to palm himself through his boxers. ruby on the other hand just observes mostly, her gaze full of lust, even she couldn’t deny that she really enjoyed the view. she squeezes her thighs together firmly, trying to ease some of the need coiling in her lower abdomen.

“that’s the spot ain’t it?” dean teases, his husky tone accompanied with a grunt. he rolls his hips into his palm, pressing a soft kiss to your aching clit. his hot breath fanning over the sensitive bud as his fingers work on you, adding onto the the pleasure. your hand reach towards ruby, grabbing the bedsheets a couple of times in the process until you actually manage to grip onto her hand, squeezing it in a way that’s almost painful, nails digging into her burning hot skin. “fuck— dean—“ you moan out, all whilst ruby cups your face, rubbing her thumb softly against your cheek, in a way that’s almost domestic.

dean slowly slips his middle finger inside you too, stretching you out. you didn’t even register the pain at first, only paying attention to the delicious feeling of his fingers fucking into you. your brows furrow, mouth agape as soft whimpers pour out in an unbroken rhythm, just a bit too loudly. “shut the fuck up.” ruby commands in a harsh tone, she really doesn’t want anyone to hear what you’re up to. for a moment you’re quiet, not wanting to disobey her, knowing what it could cause. but it doesn’t take long until you’re nothing but a moaning and a whimpering mess.

ruby sticks her fingers in your mouth, deep enough to elicit a gag reflex. she makes you suck on her fingers, in order to keep you quiet. you look at her, seeing smug grin on her lips. “jesus dean, don’t let her come too soon.” ruby orders, making you let out a strangled ‘no’ against her fingers, making her press your tongue down, making it impossible for you to protest. that’s one of the only thing ruby has said that dean can agree on, he shifts his gaze from you to her. “wasn’t plannin’ on it.” he says as he pulls his fingers completely out of your pussy, leaving you feeling empty, clenching around nothing.

dean scoots up, removing himself from between your legs where he had been nestled for what felt like an eternity. now straddling your hips but not daring to put his full weight on you, his boxer-clad hard on against your stomach. he brushes your hair out of your face before he presses a couple of gentle kisses all over your face, his cheek brushing lightly against ruby’s palm. “you think you’re ready to take me?” he purrs against your neck as he shifts down your body slowly, pressing kisses on each part. ruby takes her fingers out of your mouth, finally letting you breathe and speak properly. her fingers coated with your spit. “yes— please dean. i need you—“ you cry out, hips arching off the bed.

dean grabs you by your waist, flipping you around so you’re laying on your stomach. your face hovering inches over ruby’s pussy, covered by her lace panties, you could see a wet patch there and it turned you on even more. you’re too busy focusing on that so you don’t even realize that dean’s gripping you by your hips, lifting them so that your ass is in the air, so he can fuck you properly. ruby’s delicate fingers hover over the hem of her panties, slipping beneath them so she can pull them off.

dean’s boxers are long gone, he had thrown them somewhere across the motel room. he spits on his hand, bringing it down to stroke himself a couple times before he aligns himself with your entrance. the pink tip of his cock nearly red, coated with the precum oozing out. he grips the base of his length firmly, brushing it against your folds a couple times before he slides into you in one smooth move. filling you up in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. ruby cups your cheek, relishing in the way you already look so fucked-out. she slaps your cheek a couple times, not hard enough to hurt but enough to sting in a way that gets you back to your senses.

“get your mouth on me, whore.” ruby demands as she grabs your hair, tugging it so that your mouth is hovering over her glistening cunt. dean pulls out completely, only to thrust all the way back in, throwing his head back. dean’s action made your head bump to ruby’s inner thigh, making you let out a soft whine. “c’mon, be good.” ruby says as she inches closer, making your lips connect with her clit. you wrap your trembling hands around her thighs, overwhelmed with pleasure. ruby’s just trying to get your attention off dean, to get all the attention to herself.

dean finds a steady pace, his hips pistoning against your ass, the filthy sounds of skin slapping filling the small motel room, bouncing off the walls. dean keeps his gaze locked on you between ruby’s legs, that sight could make him cum right there and then. and it nearly does, but only nearly. he has to squeeze his eyes shut, take a deep breath but the sight in front of him is burnt deep into his retinas. “you feel so good— shit baby.” dean practically whimpers out as he grips onto your hips tightly. you let out breathy moans against ruby’s aching pussy, her body trembling with each of your gentle licks.

“good fuckin’ girl.” ruby rasps out, even she lets a soft moan escape through her lips, her hands gripping your locs like a lifeline, pushing your head even closer to her heat. each flick of your tongue sending shock through her. “you like how he’s fuckin’ you huh? you feel good?” ruby taunts you softly, as you lap up at her juices. letting out a incoherent answer, scratching at her thighs, leaving red marks behind. “already fucked dumb, didn’t take much.” dean scoffs as he presses a gentle kiss to your back, lips tracing your spine.

you start to suck on ruby’s clit, even biting down on it a couple times. it has ruby’s hips shuddering as she nears her climax, it doesn’t take much, she’s so goddamn pent up. she grinds her cunt against your face, wanting you to devour every inch of her. “pleaseugh—“ you beg, not even sure for what. dean’s thrusts becoming sloppy, your walls gripping onto him in a way that makes it almost impossible to plunge out of you. “ease up.” dean grunts as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, leaving his handprint on the skin there.

after a while ruby finally comes with a cry, making you devour every single drip of her fluids. as she pulls back, you bury your arousal-coated face in the sheets, gripping them so hard your knuckles turn white. dean keeps going at a bruising pace, but you can tell how close he is by his shaky breath, the movement of his hips faltering for a moment as he releases inside you with a loud whine. coating your insides white, with you leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock “you’re so goddamn good, a fuckin’ gem.” dean husks as he pulls out, letting you collapse to the bed.

saw a tiktok that said something like “imagine having a boyfriend and a girlfriend who hate each other” and that kinda inspired this. literally my sweet babies ugh i love them so much ☹️☹️.

[soupymari]

just a reminder that dean winchester whimpers and looks up at you in awe with the biggest and sparkliest puppy dog eyes when you sink down onto his pretty pink cock. the feeling of your warmth enveloping his length is just too much; his jaw drops and his lids droop over his hazy eyes. and they roll back into his head when he finishes inside you, shooting his load into your cunt with a pathetic groan. he babbles on about how “you’re so beautiful” and “he’s so lucky” and he only shuts up when you finally kiss him.

[soupymari]

the team noticing how comfortable shy bau reader has gotten with hotch and they all find it very sweet

Slipping Into the Light warnings: brief mentions of cannon typical violence paring: hotch x shy!bau!reader

||||

The bullpen is its usual brand of chaos—agents moving between desks, papers shuffling, the hum of conversation filling the air. It’s comfortable, routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

At least, until she walks in.

The team barely notices at first, too caught up in their morning tasks, but then—then, something odd happens.

She walks past Hotch’s office, and without a second of hesitation, she reaches out and knocks twice against the open doorframe—light, quick, easy.

Hotch glances up from his paperwork, and instead of his usual curt nod or unreadable gaze, something soft crosses his face. It’s barely there, a flicker of warmth before he schools his expression. But it’s real.

And then—then—she says, “Morning, Hotch,” like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal.

Not Good morning, sir. Not a quiet, hesitant nod in passing. No, just Morning, Hotch, said with the kind of familiarity that suggests it isn’t the first time.

He returns it with a quiet, “Morning,” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And that’s when the team starts paying attention.

Morgan’s head tilts up first, brows knitting together. Emily, mid-sip of her coffee, pauses with the cup just short of her lips. Reid frowns at the exchange like it’s a puzzle he hasn’t figured out yet. Rossi just smirks.

The door to Hotch’s office closes a moment later, and she moves toward her desk, entirely unaware of the looks being exchanged across the room.

Emily recovers first, setting her coffee down and leaning toward Morgan. “Morning, Hotch?”

Morgan shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “That’s not normal, right? She doesn’t talk to anyone like that. Not even me,” he points out, sounding offended. “And I’ve been workin’ on breaking her out of that shell for years.”

Reid blinks, clearly running through past conversations in his head. “She’s never greeted me like that before, either.”

“Or me,” Emily agrees, before throwing a glance toward Rossi. “You?”

Rossi just takes a slow sip of his coffee, unreadable.

“Something’s up,” Morgan mutters.

Emily hums in agreement. “Something.”

||||

It happens again the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

Each time, it’s something small—something easily overlooked if you aren’t paying attention. But they are paying attention. Because once profilers start noticing something, it’s impossible to stop. It becomes a game between Emily and Morgan, noticing the small ways you've warmed up to Hotch.

Easier smiles, passing him in the plane when you would usually wait for a larger gap, conversations continued when he walks into the room rather than screeching to a halt like before.

It's nothing massive to the untrained eye but, well, they are trained to notice breaks in patterns, to see when things change and how they do.

Like today.

Hotch walks into the bullpen, coffee in hand, heading straight for his office. Nothing unusual there. But as he passes by her desk, she glances up from her file, eyes flicking toward his cup.

“Did you eat?” she asks, casually—too casually.

Hotch slows just a fraction, just enough for the team to catch it. “Not yet.”

She hums, glancing at the time. “Bagel shop’s still open. They have fresh bread until nine.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hotch assures, but he lingers. Just for a second.

She gives him a pointed look before returning to her file. “Mm.”

That’s it. That’s the whole exchange. And yet—

Morgan immediately turns toward Emily. “You seein' this?”

Emily nods, hiding a grin behind her coffee. “Oh, I’m seeing it.”

Reid, who has been diligently pretending not to be part of this entire conspiracy, clears his throat. “I mean, she could just be concerned about his health?”

Morgan gives him a look as Emily snorts. “She’s never told us to eat.”

“She’s never told anyone to eat,” Morgan mutters, shaking his head. “Except Hotch, apparently.”

Spencer frowns slightly, watching as Hotch disappears into his office. Then he looks back at her, catching the way she glances one more time at the closed door before focusing back on her file.

“Okay,” he admits. “That was weird.”

“Thank you,” Emily says, throwing her hands up.

Morgan shakes his head, settling back into his chair. “I’m just saying, that’s not nothing.”

||||

It happens again later that evening, this time in the briefing room.

They’ve wrapped the case, a particularly grueling one, and now it’s the slow process of debriefing, paperwork, and waiting for the jet to be refueled in case they actually need it tomorrow - they've been able to help over the phone today but everyone is certain tomorrow will bring a tragedy the necessitates travel tomorrow or the day after. The team is scattered around the table—some flipping through reports, others making half-hearted attempts at conversation, everyone running on fumes.

She's tucked into the corner of the room, curled over a file, her pen tapping absently against the paper. If she stops moving, she’ll fall asleep. And she doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed about that.

The door opens, and Hotch steps in. The conversation dulls, but only slightly—it’s always like that when he walks in. Not because they’re afraid of him, but because his presence naturally shifts the atmosphere.

She barely looks up. “Coffee?” she asks, already moving to stand.

Hotch shakes his head. “I got it.”

She pauses, then settles back down, flipping a page. “Okay.”

That’s it. No hesitation, no stammering, no overthinking the fact that she offered in the first place. Just easy.

And that is very interesting.

Morgan narrows his eyes slightly, tilting his head as he watches her. It’s subtle—probably something even she hasn’t noticed—but there’s no way in hell he’s imagining it now.

The old her would’ve never spoken to Hotch without being spoken to first. Would’ve never offered him something so casually, so easily, like it was second nature.

And Hotch—

Hotch, who usually doesn’t acknowledge small gestures like this, doesn’t even bat an eye. Doesn’t make a comment, doesn’t pause, doesn’t do anything other than react without thought.

Which means this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Emily catches Morgan’s look and raises a brow. You seeing this?

Morgan smirks. Oh, I’m seeing it.

They share a knowing glance, and then—just to test the waters—Emily leans forward, setting her elbows on the table.

“Hey, Hotch,” she says casually. “Since you’re already up, can you grab me one too?”

Hotch glances at her, then at Morgan, who looks far too interested in his answer. He exhales sharply, amused but unamused, and turns toward the door.

“No.”

Morgan barks out a laugh, and Emily grins, triumphant.

And in the corner, she remains blissfully unaware, still flipping through her file, still tapping her pen, still completely oblivious to the way the entire team is slowly piecing this together.

||||

The next moment happens in Rossi’s office.

She hadn’t meant to end up here. It’s late, past the point of pretending she’s being productive, but she told herself she’d finish one more report before heading home. Somewhere along the way, she’d wandered, coffee in hand, and now she’s leaning against Rossi’s doorway, blinking sluggishly at him as he flips through a leather-bound journal.

“Long day?” he asks without looking up.

She nods, then remembers he’s not looking. “Yeah.”

He hums, setting the journal aside. “And yet, you’re still here instead of going home. Or is it that you don’t want to go home?”

“I was going home,” she argues, though they both know she’s lying. “I just… got distracted.”

Rossi leans back, eyeing her with the kind of gaze that makes it impossible to lie. Not that she’s in the habit of lying to him—especially since he’s usually at least five steps ahead of her anyway.

She glances at the clock. 10:42 PM. She exhales through her nose, rolling her lips together.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, but there’s something else in his tone. A lilt. An implication.

She squints at him. “Why do you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you know something.”

Rossi shrugs. “I know a lot of things.”

“Right,” she mutters, narrowing her eyes.

He’s enjoying this. That much is clear. She doesn’t know what he’s enjoying yet, but she’s sure he’ll make her figure it out on her own.

And then—

“Oh.” She blinks. “Wait. No.”

Rossi smirks.

Her stomach flips. “You know?”

He doesn’t answer, just reaches for his glass of scotch, taking a slow, measured sip.

She feels heat creep up her neck, spreading across her cheeks.

He knows.

Which means Hotch told him.

Which means Hotch talked about it.

Which means—

“Relax,” Rossi drawls, interrupting her impending spiral. “It’s not like he gave me a play-by-play. He just mentioned you two had dinner.” He pauses, then grins. “And that it went well.”

She shifts her weight, suddenly too aware of herself. Oh.

It’s not that she thought Hotch would keep it a secret forever, but hearing that he’d told Rossi, that he’d spoken about it in any capacity, makes it feel… real.

More real than the way her heart stuttered when Hotch had smoothed a hand over hers at dinner. More real than the quiet, steady confidence he’d had in their them-ness while she was still fumbling over the weight of it.

Rossi watches her carefully, still amused but softer now. “You okay?”

She nods, pressing her lips together. “Yeah. I just—”

She gestures vaguely, words failing her.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Go home,” he says again, more insistent this time. “And tell Aaron I said you’re welcome.”

She sputters, eyes wide, and Rossi just laughs, already reaching for his journal again.

She doesn’t know if she’s embarrassed or endeared, but as she slips out of his office, warmth tucked into her chest, she thinks maybe it’s a little bit of both.

||||

The moment is small. Blink and you’d miss it.

Hotch is standing by the coffee maker in the break room, pouring himself a cup. She wanders in a moment later, her movements unhurried, her posture looser than usual. The case they’d just wrapped had been rough, but the team was back home, safe, and exhaustion was settling in around all of them like a thick fog.

She steps beside him, reaching for the sugar, only to find his hand already on it.

She blinks up at him.

Hotch smirks, just barely. “You were going to put in two scoops.”

Her eyes narrow. “And?”

He hands her the spoon, ignoring the way the corner of his mouth twitches. “And you always complain that it makes the coffee too sweet.”

She exhales, glaring at him for being right, and scoops one spoonful instead.

“You should get your own coffee if you’re just going to judge mine.”

“I was here first,” he reminds her. "Making my own coffee, not yours."

“I was letting you make mine for me.”

The words are out before she fully registers them, her lips parting slightly at the realization.

Across the room, Morgan and JJ freeze mid-conversation.

Hotch stills, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around the handle of his mug. He watches her, slow and appraising, and then—

He leans in. Not much, but just enough. “You've got me there. Here." Slowly, he places the cup in her hand, a spoonful and a half of sugar poured in, slowly curling her fingers around the mug for her. Pleased at the reaction he so easily brings forth.

And then he walks out, leaving her standing there, fingers curled around her coffee cup, ears burning.

Morgan lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

JJ, still wide-eyed, elbows him. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” Morgan mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you see that? She flirted back.”

JJ presses her lips together, fighting a grin. "Still, not our business." She insists, despite the way warmth curls in her stomach at the thought.

||||

The jet hums beneath them, a steady, soothing vibration. The case had been long and brutal, but it was over, and they were finally on their way home. The team was scattered around the cabin—Morgan and Emily playing cards, JJ half-dozing with her headphones in, and Rossi nursing a glass of something dark.

And her?

She was sitting stiffly in her seat, her arm propped awkwardly against her side, doing a terrible job of pretending she wasn’t in pain.

The gash on her ribs wasn’t deep. She’d already been patched up at the local hospital—stitched, bandaged, and thoroughly instructed to take it easy. But “take it easy” apparently translated to everyone treating her like she was made of glass.

Emily had tried to grab her go-bag for her earlier.

Morgan had asked if she wanted him to get her a drink—when had he ever done that before?

Even Spencer had hovered like a worried sibling, his gaze flicking toward her every few minutes like he was expecting her to keel over.

She could deal with that. What was harder to deal with was the fact that Hotch hadn’t said anything at all.

Not until now.

“You need to rest,” his voice cut through the low hum of conversation, steady, sure.

She looked up from her untouched cup of tea to see him standing in front of her, arms crossed, expression unreadable to anyone who wasn’t her.

She sighed. “I’m fine, Hotch.”

“You’re in pain,” he countered, not unkindly.

“I’m always in pain after a case,” she pointed out, arching a brow.

His lips twitched in a way that was almost—but not quite—a smile. “This is different.”

He knew. Of course, he knew. She should have expected that.

Her shoulders eased just a little. “I just don’t want everyone fussing over me.”

“They’re only fussing because they care.”

She couldn’t argue with that. But still, she rolled her eyes, shifting slightly in her seat—only to wince when the movement tugged at her stitches.

Hotch sighed and sat beside her. “Case in point.”

She huffed, tilting her head back against the headrest, aware of the small, knowing glances being exchanged around the cabin. No one said a word, but she felt it—the way the energy shifted.

Like they were all watching something unfold, something inevitable.

She kept her gaze on Hotch. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” His voice softened just enough to make her chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with her injury.

And despite the pain, despite the exhaustion pressing down on her limbs, she found herself... warm.

Because he knew her. Knew when to push and when to step back. Knew how much she hated being coddled, but also knew exactly when she needed to be told to stop pretending she was fine.

It wasn’t suffocating.

It was steady.

It was him.

||||

The bar was too loud, too dimly lit, too full of bodies swaying and pressing together in a way that made her head ache.

She’d never wanted to come, not really. But Morgan had a way of making things sound like a good idea until she was already in them, halfway slumped over a sticky bar top, nursing a drink she barely had the energy to lift.

"You look like you’re about to pass out," Morgan teased, leaning his elbow against the bar beside her.

"Probably," she murmured, not even pretending to refute it.

She was wrecked. The case had been long and grueling, every hour stretching into the next with little more than caffeine and sheer willpower keeping her upright. When Morgan had invited her out, she hadn’t been sure why she said yes—maybe just to avoid thinking too hard about things.

But now, with exhaustion weighing her down and the music pounding too loudly in her ears, she wished she’d just gone home.

Morgan nudged her shoulder. "Alright, lightweight. You eat anything today?"

The question barely registered before she answered, too tired to filter her words. "I had dinner in Hotch's office."

It was out before she could stop it.

Morgan blinked. Then grinned.

"Ohhhh," he drawled, sitting up straighter, eyes lighting up in that way that meant trouble. "That’s why you two have been acting different lately."

She frowned, sluggish. "What?"

"Come on, don’t play coy now. Dinner? With Hotch? In his office? That’s why you’ve been all up in each other’s space. I knew something was up!"

Oh, God.

Her stomach plummeted, warmth flooding her face so fast she thought she might actually faint. "Morgan," she hissed, suddenly far more awake. "I—I didn’t mean—"

"You totally meant," he cut in, smug as hell.

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. "You tricked me into coming here. I’m too tired for this interrogation."

"You’re too tired to lie," he countered, tapping the bar. "And that’s the best time to get the truth."

She let out a long, slow breath, willing herself to cool down, to deflect, to not make this worse. But Morgan was already grinning like he’d won something, like he had all the confirmation he needed.

He leaned in conspiratorially. "So, how was dinner?"

She didn’t even bother answering. Instead, she waved down the bartender. "Two shots, please."

Morgan laughed, clinking his glass against hers when they arrived. "Now that is an answer."

||||

"I'm so sorry," she groans, squeezing her eyes closed against the admission.

Hotch has the nerve to laugh, covering his face with his hand. Red peers up and over his palm where it covers his expression. "I'm not mad," he insists, "just very amused."

"How is this amusing?" She asks, exasperated, turning to pace across his office.

"I've been opening flirting with you for months, almost a year. It's been a running joke, darling. It's amusing because you're only just now getting the heat for it. For reciprocating it."

"Reciprocating!" She exclaims, injust.

"Oh, are you not? Should I clear my calendar for tomorrow, then, cook for just me and Jack?"

She scowls, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "No," she pouts, voice near a whine. "I just thought you didn't want the team to know anything was up."

"Oh, so something's up between us now?"

Leave it to him to use this moment to tease you, of course. When she first joined the team, Hotch was broody and withdrawn. It hadn't taken long for her to see his exterior crack, the flaws shining beneath.

He appears as a rule follower, a stickler for what's right and just, but he constantly bends for his team, for the victims, for children. And now, for you, he bends so far from that rigid form people perceive him in she has difficulties seeing his stiffness anymore.

Still, moments like these shock her. Aaron Hotchner is a flirt and an expert one at that.

"Maybe!" She concedes, too flustered to wiggle her way out of his trap. "That's not the point."

"I think that's exactly the point." Hotch catches her wrist, halting her pacing. "But it's okay. I don't mind the others knowing that 'something's up' with us."

"Oh my god," she groans, heat in her face nearly as brilliant as her smile.

[soupymari]

DEAN WINCHESTER holds your hand when he’s eating you out. he laps at your weeping pussy like a starved man, his warm tongue flicking and sucking on your fattened clit, pulling whimpers and gasps from your pretty mouth.

dean’s good at this; good at eating pussy and making you cum again and again and again for him. you’re so sensitive and swollen from his mouth, but that doesn’t stop him.

your sweet needy noises fill his ears, and his hand moves from holding your thighs open to searching for your hand. he finds it, intertwining your fingers and squeezing it gently as he laps at your cunt, forcing more of your honeyed nectar onto his tongue.

you taste so sweet; dean can’t get enough. he holds your hand, squeezing it encouragingly as you cum again, his puppy dog eyes flickering up to meet yours, checking in with his pretty baby, gauging just how much more you can take. he rubs his thumb along your soft skin, a silent gesture of affection passed between the two of you.

dean’s hand doesn’t leave yours until he’s done, pulling away from your drooling overstimulated cunt, his chin and lips glistening with your arousal. he licks his lips, trying to savour the taste of you as his green eyes rake over your twitching form.

“you were so good for me, yeah? so good, sweet girl,” he praises, squeezing your hand again as he brings it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.