#rabbit ridge

[everymariogalaxy]

16/17- Dark Side

[vintagehomecollection]

The porch offers a breathtaking view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. A decorative porcelain rabbit centerpiece adds a light touch to the outdoor furniture grouping.

Southern Interiors, 1988

[chaoticdesertdweller]

[rabbitsinvideogames]

Pet from Blue Oak Ridge

[cashewthrower2]

ACE REP?? Just watched all 5 episodes and they were FANTASTIC. a really funny show, and really short, too (less than an hour to watch it all). highly recommend. Really hope we get to see a second season soon

[ascendead]

trying to cross match OC's with face claim features so she's pookie enough

[quiltedbunny]

Toppan Wonder Co., Tokyo 3D Lenticular Postcard

[fairy-hub]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: true form!sukuna, monster fucking with alpha!sukuna, A/B/O (meaning alpha, mega, and beta) no alpha and mega title used, daddy/mama, praise/teasing/mocking/praising degradation, biting, knotting, werewolf venom makes their mate go into heat to keep up like in the fic mine with werewolf toji, fucking on fur bedding, you said clan and for some reason my brain went wood bedframes and fur blankets no technology, we get candles for light, they have fangs venom and claws with sukuna have his true form extraness, double pentration, overstimulation, dacryphilia, biting, blood, pain kink, light size kink, toji is praising you while fucking you like he hates you, choking, full nelson, sukuna calls you pet twice, mind break, cream pie, fucking their cum into you. belly bulge from the amount of cum, forced orgasm, squirting

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Requesting for clan leader! Gojo 😔🙏 gotta have that breeding kink in their somewhere!! Mans whole clan is asking for an heir right after you get married. In my mind Geto is still alive and kicking and has his own family. Gojo gets a terrible case of FOMO and ends up wanting a whole litter of kids for himself. goin at it like rabbits for DAYS.

Oreo: not this being in the drafts since September! im sorry anon! This was also giving me werewolf vibes with the word clan so one think lead to another. it gave me the chance to write the reader belly bulging with sukuna's cum so im excited about that

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Slapping your sloppy cunt, stuffing his thick warm cum in with two fingers he bit the claws off on. Whining, twisting your hips away. Smirking down at you, crooning “Where ya going mama thought you wanted to make me a daddy?” Pulling you into place by your hips.

You want Satoru’s fingers, cock, tongue, and cum filling you up. “I do wanna make you a daddy but you're too much. Can't keep cumming, but I wanna at the same time." Hooking your leg around his waist pulling him in.

His eyes momentarily widen. Ordering in a needy plead, “Call me daddy again mama.” Sliding your hand over his broad shoulders, down his thick pecs and abs. Over countless thin and thick scars ranging from pink to white in color.

“Daddy please lemme feel you!” Sliding your hand down his hard abs, biting you lip when he purposefully flexes. Grabbing your thighs pinning you in a firm mating press. Following the short wispy whine happy trail down to his beautiful long cock.

Lining his pale cock head up with your soft lip. Stroking yourself with his cock, circling your soft clit. He's so warm, soft yet hard. His breathy moan gets you off. “But you are feeling me, what more can my mama need?” Dipping his head, sinking his sharp fangs into your tit.

Moaning, he's intoxicating, sweet, warm, and pleasurable like having him massaging your sweet spot with his fingers. Your body is getting hotter. Thick slick drips down, your cunt aching with an insatiable need for Satoru.

Flicking your soft nipple with his warm tongue. Sucking, sinking his fangs in deeper when you cry. Shifting your hips trying to slip him in, whining when Satoru pulls back. Whipping the blood from his lips with his thumb.

"What does my mama need?" Nudging your sensitive cunt with his cock, spreading his hand on your stomach pinning you still. Gliding his cock up your clit refusing to touch your clit.

Admiring how your cunt split to take his pale pink cock head. Pleading with him, "Please give me more than the tip! I need you to knot me, keep your cum deep inside my sensitive cunt, please!" Slowly giving you his head head, letting the soft ridge vanish before gliding out. Lightly tugging on your cunt.

"You sure you need more than just the tip?" Nudging in his head, leaving it there, pressing down harder when you squirm. "You said I'm too much mama, you sure ya need me to knot n’ cum in ya?"

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

"Fuckin finally I can stuff ya full of cum again." Bending you over on the soft pile of blankets. Pulling your ass in the air, squeezing when you wiggle, piercing your skin with his sharp claws. Blood trickles down trickles down your hip. Thick cum drips down your thighs.

The pain is sweet mixing with mind-numbing pleasure. It's impossible to think, you can barely process Toji grunting, “I've been wanting to breed your sweet tight cunt for months. Ya gonna be so beautiful with your tits and belly swelling mama." Gliding his softening knot out tugging on your tight cunt, his cock is harder than before.

Despite stuffing your cunt full of cum three times. Toji is getting hornier, fucking your limp body harder. Testing your limits seeing how much you can take before you break.

Stepping on your head, roughly fucking his thick cock into you. Trembling, your sensitive cunt is gushing on his cock. How can still cum after the fifth you couldn't think to count.

The thick blankets muffle your moans, “Such a messy lil cunt she’s a beautiful lil super soaker. Gonna make you cream on my cock till my knot won’t swell up anymore.” You would be convinced he hates you with the merciless way he's fucking his fat veiny cock into you. If not for Toji's words and the fresh bite on your neck.

Bent over, back arched, legs spread with your cunt stuff his heavy balls slap your clit. His swelling knot catching on your tight sensitive cunt. "Fuck mama squeeze my fat cock with your tight sloppy wet cunt. Nnn I've always thought about how hot of a milf you'd make."

Slapping your ass, squeezing your cheek. Fucking you harder, the fur blanket muffling your cries. "Your beautiful little cunt is always so tight when you're in heat." Moving his foot, your body lurches forward from the strength of thrusts. "Fuck you're so damn perfect mama takin' my cock like a slut." Grabbing your hair, yanking your back.

Your back hits his hard chest. Wrapping his hand around your neck, standing up, your legs dangle, held by your hair, neck, and his thick cock balls deep in you. "Please Daddy please daddy please!" Squeezing his thick veiny cock, he's filling you up perfectly, stroking your sweet spot.

"Since that's all my stupid little whore can moan, you don't need to breathe right? I can fuck your cunt into a gapping broken cum stuffed mess with my hands crushing your neck, right?" Grabbing your thighs, propping your calf over his thick forearm. Pinning you to his chest in a full nelson.

Squeezing your throat, groaning, "Ya gonna be a beautiful mama, gonna suck on your tits when they drip milk. Make sure they don't get too full like your pussy is 'bout to be." His swelling knot tugs on your soaking wet cunt.

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Gliding his thick, veiny tattooed cocks out. "It's starting to trickle out the sides." Pushing on your bulging stomach, thick cum gushing from your sore, gaping cunt. Sukuna croons, "Don't pass out on me yet pet I'm having fun playing with you." His stomach's tongue relentlessly stroking your sensitive clit. Keeping you in an intoxicating mind numb pleasurable high, boarding on almost painful.

Lining his cock up, rolling his hips, arching your back, twisting your hips away from his slow deep thrusts. "Please don't stop!" Tears roll down your cheek when he pulls your hips back into place. Lifting you off the bed, slamming you down on his thick cocks.

The tip of his sharp claws digging into your skin shouldn't feel so good.

Taunting you, "Poor little pet can't even handle me n' you're cryin' for more! Keep fighting to stay awake mama. I need ya to keep taking my cocks till they get soft." Using your hips to guide your hot tight, squelching cunt on his thick cocks. Your cunt clenches, it feels too good to be senselessly fucked into a mindless mess by Sukuna.

Biting your side and breast, your body jolts, and your cunt clenches. It's too much venom at once, forcing your sensitive cunt to squirt on his cocks. "Fuckin' messy slut soaking the whole damn bed." Gliding his hand up your side, cupping your breast biting down.

Giving that intense high of squirting, yet your cunt can only spasm, getting tighter. Your body shaking, toes curling eyes rolling back. "If you do pass out mama, I could fuck my cum into your soft beautiful cunt when you're sleeping." Smirking grabbing your neck lifting you up right.

Looking up from Sukuna's thick pecs into his beautiful face. Dark crimson eyes glowing from his rut. "It would be a pity if I couldn't see you I love seeing you cryin'. But I wonder if your sweet little cunt will grip my cocks the same." Grabbing his arm and digging your short sharp claws in.

Sukuna leans his head back groaning. "Ya feel so fuckin' good mama, seein’ ya fighting to keep going this long is makin' is exciting. I might not be able to stop until your body gives out." His massive body trembles, your soft, soakign wet tight hot cunt squeezing and squelching on his fat cocks getting him off.

Fucking you faster on his cock. Flexing his arms when you pierce his skin. Thin rivulets of blood tricking down his biceps. Sukuna hunches over to roughly kiss you slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You're utterly helpless to do anything but happily take Sukuna's thick cocks. It's perfect you don't need to think or move. Only get fucked till you can't handle anymore.

oreo creampie m.list

[newriverartist]

Little Bugs

Emerging Hawk Original Oil painting SOLD Wall Art Prints and Prints on other items available with the link https://kendall-kessler.pixels.com/featured/emerging-hawk-kendall-kessler.html Today we have a baby rabbit eating some grass in our front yard. Clyde does not have a problem with Little Bugs Bunny like he has with Chippy the bird seed stealing chipmunk. Little Bugs can’t get into the…

[groovyeldritchhorror]

Marcire

Duchess of gluttony, demon of rot

909

They/she

[nieceeee]

"Let Me Help"

P/S: You and Eren decided to co-parent and things have been going well. You managed to keep a good distance and keep your hands to yourself. Until your hormones get the best of you and him being a good baby daddy offers to help solve your problem W/C: 2007

A/N: smut, minors DNI, baby daddy eren x reader, nicknames (mamas because you're his baby mama, babydoll) oral sex, praise kink, pregnant reader, NSFW,

I took some pieced of my original work and changed the characters so enjoy. I think I want to start adding more fluff. let me know if you're interested

“E don't, okay.” you huffed, holding a hand up at him. You and Eren had just made it back to your apartment. You had some errands to run earlier and he insisted on being there. You can't carry all that in your condition anyway he had fussed at you over the phone. You roll your eyes, placing your hand over your swollen abdomen as he opens the passenger side door for you. 

“I told you I didn't need any help.” you complained but like always, he refused to listen to you. 

Honestly, you were grateful that he was still around to help you out. After your relationship ended, you both decided it would be best to have a decent connection for when the baby arrived. Eren refused to let his child grow up without him so you both had to sit down and compromise. Despite all the drama from your relationship, you both managed to remain good friends and work on coparenting. 

Until today.

When those pregnancy hormones started to kick in and you woke up this morning with your fingers pressed against your clit, trying to find some sort of relief.  As your fingers circled your opening, you found yourself imagining a very familiar hand replacing yours. You whimpered at the image of Eren’s fingers pressing deep inside of you, stroking that ridged spot that you loved so much. 

“You look so pretty when you cum for me babydoll.” he praised, “Do it again. Make daddy proud and cum all over my hands. Can you do that?”

 Ironically, that was the day you actually made him a daddy. You were so terrified at the two little lines on the test that you took 5 more to make sure. Eren was ecstatic. He had always wanted kids. But your relationship with him had been so toxic that you were scared of what would happen if you tried again. So you both decided to remain friends in order to have a healthy relationship for your child.

All of that went out the window this morning as you coaxed another orgasm from your body, his name falling from your lips. But it wasn’t enough. The fire that burned in you refused to be sated. You needed today to get out of the house and blow off steam, anything to get your mind off of the aching in between your legs. Everything was going fine until he made his daily call. The minute his face popped up on screen, you felt the heat pass through you again. Fucking pregnancy hormones you groaned internally. 

“You all good mamas?” Eren asked you. 

Your toes curled in your shoes at the nickname, “Yes, I just have some errands to run today so I’ll have to call you later.” you rushed. Looking at him was driving your body crazy and you knew you would need your vibrator again before you could leave. “You doing all that by yourself?” he said, brows arching in concern. “Yes, E. I’ll be fine.” you fussed, your leg shaking with anxiousness. You just needed him off the phone. “I’ll be there in 10.” You couldn’t process the words he said before the phone disconnected. Fuck. you thought to yourself, you couldn’t be around him today. Not like this. You hobbled yourself to your room, grabbing your rabbit out of the top drawer and lifting your dress and pressing it against your swollen center. “Shit.” you let out as your juices dripped down your legs. You rushed to clean yourself up just as the doorbell rang. 

“Hey, babydoll you ready?” his voice called from the front door. You cussed yourself for giving him the spare key. For emergencies only you had told him but he still used it as he pleased. 

You met him at the door, hoping that your actions were disguised. He took his time looking at you. His eyes dragging from your head to your feet as he swiped his tongue out over his lips. “You look good mamas.” his deep voice lowered, caressing your eardrums and everywhere in between. “Stop looking at me like that.” you snapped. He gave you a sexy half smile and shrugged his shoulders, opening the front door and holding it for you. 

Running errands with Eren seemed nearly impossible. You found yourself watching his every move. You never thought a man putting groceries in the car would look so sexy. Those veins popping in his hands and traveling up the crevices of his muscles was making you dizzy. “It must be the heat” you explained to him when you needed to grab a seat to catch your breath. By the time you made it back to your apartment, your pussy was throbbing. You needed to make him leave.

Eren noticed you had been distant with him all day but he assumed it was just the heat and the hormones. But as much as you pushed at him, he wasn’t leaving you in that state. Something was going on with you and he wanted to know what. “You can go now.” you forced out. “You’re not putting all this away on your own.” he fussed, starting to unpack the groceries. “Eren, please just go.” you were practically groveling, the need between your thighs growing stronger. “Did I do something wrong?” he questioned, turning to you. His green eyes gazing at you with concern and confusion. “No, you didn't .” you expressed. “So why have you been pushing me away all day? I don't get it.” he urged. “E, please.” you started but he cut you off. “No, not until you talk to me babydoll. What did I do? I want to fix it.” “EREN. I'M HORNY OKAY!” you screamed out dropping your head back in frustration. His eyes blinked. Once. Twice. The room was silent. “I- my hormones are spiking and I have been having trouble all day.” you explained. “You being here has not helped.” He remained calm as he stepped towards you. “Do you need me?” he asked calmly. “What?” He stepped closer, standing right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him. “Do you need my help?” he whispered down at you. 

“What do you mean help ?” you asked, anxious to know the answer.

He smiled down at you. “Come here mamas.” he said softly. You walk towards him, taking his outstretched hand. He leads you through the house and to your bedroom. “E-” you start. He looks back at you and all your words get caught in your throat. Eren positions you next to your bed, coming up behind you. He gently slides his hands underneath your belly, a warm feeling running through his chest as he lifts slightly to offer you some relief. You sigh sinking into his arms, your back pressing against his chest. “Eren, are you sure this is okay? We said we were setting boundaries.” you said softly. “I know.” he whispered, rubbing small circles on the underside of your belly. You hummed in delight at the sensation of his warm hands on your skin. “Look at it this way mamas.” he explained. “My goal is to make sure you are as comfortable as possible. And this is causing you discomfort, yeah?” You nod, riding the high of his words as he continues to massage you. “All I want to do is help you get a release.” he whispers, leaning down to you. He rubs the tip of his nose against your neck before clamping his teeth down gently into your shoulder. Your legs buckle slightly as he runs his tongue over the mark. “You smell so fucking good babydoll.” he groans, his dick hardening behind you. You both stand there for a moment, you pressed against his chest as he rubs your belly and plants kisses on your neck.

“Come here.” Eren says, releasing your belly, He guides your hips back to the bed and lays you down. “Eren, are you sure about this?” you asked breathlessly. He looks down at you as he pulls half of his hair back into a ponytail. “Positive.” he grumbled. He guides you back gently against the mattress. “Just let me take care of you baby. I’ll make you feel good.” he whispered. “You always do.” you let out. He hummed his approval before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Eren takes his time, kissing down your neck and into your shoulder blades. Your eyes flutter close as you sink into the bed. He takes his time trialing kisses down to your swollen breasts, his lips closing around the hardened mound as his fingers roll around your other nipple. Your hands travel up his back and into his hair, gripping softly. He growls, biting down gently on your nipple as he continues his descent down your body. He takes extra time kissing around her belly, a smile playing at his lips as he trailers the linea nigra in the center of your abdomen. He travels further until his head is centered between your legs. An audible gasps escapes your lips as the warmth of his mouth attaches to your aching middle. Eren takes his time, sucking at your clit, rolling it gently between his lips before slipping his tongue inside of you. Your back arches slightly from the bed as you revel in each swipe of his tongue, the wetness getting louder as he swirls the muscle inside of you. The wave of heat washes over you once more as he growls into your pussy. “E, baby. Fuck.” you call out to him as he feasts on you like you’re his last meal. You body jerks as the orgasm spills out of you and into his mouth. He stays there, holding onto your thighs lapping at you until you come down from your high. Your essence drips from his chin as he sits up and looks at you. “You taste better than I remember.” he said softly. Your breathing is heavy as you stare into each other's eyes. 

You part your legs slowly, beckoning him closer. Eren’s eyes widened slightly. “You sure?” he asked, his gaze heavy. You nodded. You needed more of him. “Please” you beg. 

He smirked and cupped his hands under your upper thigh, sliding your body closer to him. “E…fuck.” your mind went blank as he rubbed his tip against your opening. “You okay baby? You need to stop?” he looked up at you, his gaze heavy. You looked down at him, thick and heavy, his body begging for release. He was a force to be reckoned with down there. “Y/n?” he asked, stepping back slightly. “I- I ‘m okay.” you responded quickly. “You sure?” he said, still standing back, concern etched on his face.  “Yes. I’m sure.” You lay back on the bed again, opening up wider. He took a breath and stepped back into your space, pressing against you again. Your fingers gripped the sheets as you felt his tip push inside of you. “Fuck” you cry out. He stilled. “Am I hurting you?” he asked. You were drunk on pleasure at the feeling. “No please keep going E, I need it.” you moan out. He shuddered at your cries, and worked his way in a little more. He took his time, slipping in and out of you with shallow strokes, rubbing your clit when you clenched around him. He knew your body inside and out. You felt another weave of pleasure overtaking you. Your walls clenched around him. “It's okay. Release for me babydoll.” he said gently coaching you through your final orgasm. He stayed sheathed inside of you until he’s sure you’re done and slowly pulls out, your creams spilling onto the sheets beneath you. His gaze seared your body as it trailed you from head to toe. “What?” you ask shyly. “You are so fucking beautiful, you know that.” He ran his hand down the side of your face, wiping a few of the tears from your eyes. You smile up at him. 

“Thank you, Eren.” you say softly. “I told you babydoll. I’m always here to help.” he smile before planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟭𝟬: 𝘆𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗼𝗱𝗮 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝗮𝗯-𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your mental state is suffering–you’re not sure if you can handle alphatauri posting another thirst trap of your boyfriend to disguise their inability to build a car that doesn’t break within the first ten laps. but, when yuki posts his own half-naked picture on main? he’s asking for it, at this point. clearly, he’s been spending too much time with pierre. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. ab-riding. pierre gasly is his own warning. no penetrative sex. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: yuki tsunoda x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: drabble. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best friend • saweetie ft. doja cat

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: this is actually the dirtiest fic, in theory yk. yuki has my heart, and i'm single handedly going to fill tumblr with my posts about him, thank you, good night.

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cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

you can’t stand his smug ass smirk. he knows damn well how you feel about his thirst traps. sure, alphatauri milks any chance of plastering yuki across their social media page to fail at distracting fans from the fact that their the slowest car on the grid, and that they can’t build a car that doesn’t fall apart like legos. but, yuki, posting practically-naked (he’s only shirtless, so really you’re mildly exaggerating) pictures on his main instagram page?? he’s not george-fucking-russell, so, why the hell would he do that?

there’s only two answers to this question, and they’re both correct. one, pierre gasly—the french bastard. you can’t leave them together unsupervised. and two, to make you mad. 9which you very much are, so, yuki achieved what he wanted. he’s especially thrilled, when you shove him down onto your bed, and straddle his lap, angrily tugging his shirt off. yuki grins up at you, satisfied at where a simple shirtless picture lead him to. he should listen to pierre more often, his ex-teammate might have good ideas, however rare they are. once his shirt is off, you freeze, breathing heavily as you drink in the sight of his torso. you lean forward and start sucking marks into his pecs, biting into the meat of his chest, and tracing the definition of his abs with your tongue. yuki’s moans rumble in his chest, and he lets his eyes flutter shut and basks under the thorough claim you’re leaving on his body. at least you’re kind enough to avoid placing any marks high enough to where they could be seen from the neck of a shirt—alphatauri will just have to post pre-filmed videos they have in the vault while your hickeys fade, they’ll survive.

you erratically jerk away again, and strip your bottoms off, shoving your underwear down and tossing them behind you. you tug your shirt up until it bunches under your armpits, and you drag the cups of your bra underneath your chest, causing them to spill over the top obscenely. roughly grabbing at your boyfriend’s hands, you direct them to grasp at your boobs, and command, “keep your abs flexed.” yuki makes a noise of confusion, but you don’t elaborate any further. you lower yourself to sit on his abdomen, and grind across him slowly, testing the waters. your head falls forward from the zing of pleasure that races up your spine, and you quickly start rabbiting your hips across the dips and ridges of his muscles. 

yuki is rendered speechless at your motions. he was expecting you to ride his dick, not his abs. he’s not going to complain about this, though. you’re rubbing yourself off on his torso—your moans are bitten off and rough, and your grinds are deep and forceful to make sure your clit catches on every sharp edge of his abdomen. it’s the dirtiest thing yuki’s ever seen you do, usually he’s the one being unhinged. he squeezes at your chest rhythmically, dropping his hands to your chest eventually to watch how your breasts bounce at every shift you make—he sighs contentedly, this is heaven. 

he brings one hand to reach around you and palm himself over his shorts, but is denied the chance to do so. you hiss at him meanly, and pull his hand back to your waist, eyes flashing at him in warning. yuki falters under the commanding glint of your gaze, maybe he pushed you too far this time. he adjusts his grip on your body and takes some of the load off you, and guides your hips against his body for you—he could feel your thighs begin to tremble in exhaustion and based on how deadest you’ve become on getting yourself off on his abs, he doesn’t want to feel any additional wrath when your release slips from your grasp. 

a squeal of relief rattles through your chest at how yuki does the hard work for you. he moves your body exactly how you crave, and you find it incredibly difficult to remember why you were mad in the first place. instead of your thighs shaking in tiredness—you’re thankfully not used to being the one putting all the work in, your boyfriend’s stamina is appreciated—they begin to quiver as you get closer to cumming. your own hand comes to tug at your nipples, looking for any last flare of pleasure to push you over the edge. the wetness you’ve spread across his abs has started to lessen the friction you feel against your cunt. yuki sees the frustration furrowing your brow, and shifts his right hand down over your navel so his thumb can rub at your clit. you gasp, throwing your head back at white-hot burst of contentment behind your eyes, and all it takes is a few more furious passes of yuki’s fingers on your cunt, as the coil snaps inside your core, and waves of bliss crash over you.

yuki slips his hand away, and guides you to ride out the aftershocks on his abs. he moans at the sight of pure satisfaction on your face, and how you’ve soaked his torso, reminding him what belongs to you, with no room for vagueness. you eventually slow your roll, and fall to the side off yuki. the two of you pant as you stare at the ceiling, allowing the rapid beats of your hearts to slow.

you tilt your head to face him, and smile dopily at the sight of yuki staring at his navel. you’ve drenched him with your release, and it glistens beautifully on his tanned skin. if you were truly unhinged, you’d take a picture with your hand rubbing your wetness across his skin, and post it for everyone to see. the contrasting shades of your skin under the light of golden hour would look perfect. it would probably cost your boyfriend’s career, so maybe that’s not an equal exchange. 

hummingly faintly, you stumble off 9ithe bed, legs still shaking as you walk towards the bathroom. “you can get yourself off. you’re not fucking me for a week—“ yuki makes an alarmed noise, sputtering in disbelief, struggling to find his words, “oh, don’t get mouthy with me. i could make it so you never fuck me again—i just gave you enough material to last you for that long.” you slam the bathroom door shut, and yuki’s mouth hangs open in shock. fuck, pierre. he’s never listening to his suggestions ever again.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

© httpsserene 2023

[volklana]

Cursed Eyes Don't Lie

Request: Could you do something where in season 4 when they're escorting the children, that they encounter a woman on the travels they adopt into their band essentially to help with the children but she despises Sihtric because when he was one of Kjartans men he plundered her village and she never forgot him? Does that make sense and then somehow through all that angst make them fall in love?

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma associated with SA, I do not go into detail at all, it's just alluded to that it happened. If that isn't for you, please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

For some parts I have replaced things that Eadith did in the show with reader.

It was Finan who had spotted the little flicker of a fire in the distance that he insisted on following, he and Sihtric leading the way until they were brought to the ruins of an old Roman building at the edge of the woods.

They shared an unsure look, with Uhtred who looked to Eadith for reassurance.

“The children are tired, we need rest,” she urged and so he nodded at his companions to proceed.

They crept forward, up along the ridge of the broken ruins to try and decipher how many men were camped inside but to their shock and amusement they could only make out the silhouette of one woman, warming herself beside the fire, completely unaware that she was being watched. 

“Just a woman?” Uhtred tilted his head in shock.

“I should go first,” Eadith offered, “If a band of men wander in demanding refuge you may startle her.”

Uhtred nodded in agreement and so Eadith made her way inside the ruins, ensuring to drag her feet a little to announce her arrival.

You swung around dagger in hand ready to attack and paused when she raised her hands in surrender, but not putting down your dagger.

“Please, I am with a group traveling with children, all I ask is that we may share your fire for the night. No harm will come upon you and we will leave at first light in the morning.”

You looked behind her to the small band of warriors and children clinging to their sides.

“I have no provisions or food, but there is a stream, you may wish to bath and collect water from,” you finally relented, placing your dagger back into its sheath around your waist and allowing them to pile in around the heat of the fire, while one of them announced they would try to hunt some food.

Introductions were made and you shared a little of your water with the children, while still remaining a little cautious of the men in the group. Eadith came to sit by your side and she bumped you gently with her arm.

“I know why you are wary. Us women have no choice but to be wary but I assure you these are some of the best men I have ever known, you have no reason to be worried. I promise you.”

“If you had seen the things I had seen lady you would be wary too,” was your only reply but you were reassured enough to loosen your guard. 

Eventually as dusk was beginning to turn into the night the last of the men, the Dane Sihtric returned with two rabbits much to the cheer of his friends who immediately set about preparing them to cook while Finan, you had learned was his name, brought more wood to keep the fire going.

You went down to the stream to collect more water to give to the little Aelfwynn who seemed to be struggling the most with the conditions of the road, so much so you had parted with your furs for the night in an attempt to keep her warmer.

Uhtred’s man Sihtric, the Dane was washing his hands and face in the river and so you moved more upstream to collect the water.

You eyed him suspiciously, as he bathed but when he turned to face you, two mismatched eyes set a fire burning in your stomach and before you had time to think your actions through, you flung the animal hide you were using to store water with at him and it connected to his chest with a thud, as you fumbled for your dagger.

Your chest rose and fell in fury as you seethed, and he put his arms up in surrender, face a mixture of terror and confusion.

“You were one of Kjartan’s men, do not deny it!” you spat.

“Lady please,” he begged but made no move to stop you pressing the dagger to his neck.

“You sacked my village. You murdered my family.”

Sihtric’s eyes swam with emotion, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed.

“Please, it was a different life, I had no choice.” 

“No I had no choice,” you spat “No choice but to endure while your men took what they wanted from my village and from…me,” you refused to look away at the last part, the shame was on them and not on you and you refused to allow it to shame you now.

“And when I think back on that day I see your eyes. Eyes of the devil looking down on me, leaving me there amongst the burning embers of my life. I swore I would never forget those eyes. I have cursed those eyes and I would have my revenge one day.”

There were tears in the Danes' eyes and you did not care.

“Then have your revenge, I won’t try to stop you. But know this,” he pleaded “I never willingly served Kjartan a day in my life, all I did was to survive his cruelty. He killed my mother, he would have killed me too had I not proven myself useful as a warrior but I never ever relished in destruction. And I never forced myself upon any woman, not then, and not now and I have served Lord Uhtred faithfully, especially since he killed my father.”

You cocked your eyebrow in curiosity and Sihtric sighed.

“I am Kjartan’s bastard,” he spat “And the world is a better place for him not being in it.”  

You hated yourself for loosening your hold on the dagger ever so slightly, but Sihtric made no move to escape, “I am sorry for what you have endured at the hands of the men I was with, and for my part in it. I will receive punishment in whatever way you see fit.” 

You pushed the knife further into his skin again, watching a trickle of blood run down his neck to his collarbone and disappearing under his vest, tears pooling in your own eyes.

“I’ve waited for this day for years. Night after night remembering those eyes, imagining what I would do when I had you in my grasp, it is what kept me going all these years, and now I’m here and I can’t do it. I can’t do it,” you cried, dropping your dagger at your feet.

You stood facing each other for an eternity, chests rising and falling, looking into each other’s eyes, before Sihtric knelt down before you, “On Thor’s hammer I offer you my protection for as long as you will allow it. Travel with us, the road is no place for a woman on her own and I will never allow any wrong to fall upon you at the hands of another man again. This I swear until you release me.” 

You examined those two mismatched eyes once again, ones that had many moons ago offered you his hand and pulled you from the table you were hiding under, pressing an apple into your hand as he gathered the few possessions he had plundered, and watching you with sad eyes before he mounted his horse.

“Coward,” you had roared after him, in the midst of your burning village, but now it was you who was the coward. 

You considered him carefully, and could see that he was sincere.

“I accept the offer of your protection. But make one unwanted move on me and I will have your balls for earrings,” you promised. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he rose, and you ordered him to pick up the discarded hide of water to bring back to the camp, which he hastily fumbled for.

“And the curse?” he shouted trying to catch up to you.

“Remains until I see fit to lift it,” was all you offered, not giving him the chance to fall in step with you.

“What happened to your neck?” Finan asked as you walked back together.

“Ah, must have nicked in on a branch,” Sihtric dismissed but Finan warily eyed the dagger on your waist, and you cocked an eyebrow in challenge but thankfully he let it go.

You tossed and turned but could not find sleep. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see were Sihtric’s eyes. Those mismatched eyes you had grown so accustomed to hating. Sympathetic eyes, pulling you from your hiding place of fear and smoothing you down but making no attempt to force himself on you. And accepting eyes as you held a dagger to his throat, willing to allow you to hurt him, this made you feel more conflicted than you had in years. 

Sihtric in turn could not sleep. He had earned two black eyes and a swollen lip once Tekil had informed Kjartan that he had refused to take his turn with you, but he could never admit that to you now. You had said you had cursed his eyes and maybe you had, Sihtric was no fool, he had seen the damage a curse could cause, maybe his curse was to have found the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and never be granted the opportunity to earn her love. To see her but never to touch or hold.

The next morning Finan woke everyone up and the scramble to collect everything began.

Sihtric was by your side in an instant as the camp made to leave.

“She comes with us,” he announced, causing Finan and Uhtred to step toward him in bewilderment, “She comes with us. She comes with me.” was all he offered in terms of explanation and began walking, to which you simply followed behind. 

Life on the road the next few days were a blaze of walking as far as possible in the light and hunkering down for the night wherever Uhtred deemed safe. Finan and Sihtric always took the nightwatch whilst you and Eadith tended to the children. Little Athelstan had taken a real shine to you, always opting to sleep by your side or holding your hand in the dark, but by day he only ever wanted to be by Finan’s side. 

“Horses!” Uhtred warned and you all took to running. Sihtric grasped your hand in his.

“Keep running,” he urged, pulling you alongside him and you grasped his hand for dear life running as fast as you could. Only halting when you nearly fell into the lake with bodies of the dead from the sickness, Sihtric gripping you to stop you falling in.

Deciding against Sihtric’s suggestion to swim through, you had no option but to surrender to Eardwulf and his men’s approach, Sihtric ushered you behind him, one hand in front of you in an attempt to protect you. 

“Protect the children with your lives,” Uhtred commanded as Eardwulf’s men dismounted their horses and you reached for your dagger, while Sihtric gave his own dagger to Athelstan. 

As Edith revealed the truth of her brother’s treachery and he fled away into exile, Sihtric once again took your hand in his, squeezing it gently three times, for reassurance. 

At Wollerton, you found horses and provisions for the next part of your journey, Eadith and Osferth were to remain with Aelfwynn, to try keep her alive, and Young Uhtred and Sihtric were to find Aethelflaed, you lingered awkwardly for a moment having received no orders.

“You will ride with me?” Sihtric announced but it was more like a question, and you nodded, before mounting his horse and he climbed on behind you. You were both awkward with the proximity, you wanted to put more space between you two but Sihtric’s strong arms encased you and in the end you had to relent to the fact that you could not escape his touch. 

“Woah,” Sihtric  jolted forward to catch you, it had been hours worth of riding and you hadn’t felt yourself falling asleep, but Sihtric caught you before you fell from the horse.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled feeling embarrassed.

“It’s okay I’ve got you,” he shushed “We will rest soon I promise, but lay your head back on me, that way you can close your eyes and I’ll keep a stronger hold on you,” and even though you didn’t want to, exhaustion overruled and you obeyed as his left arm locked around your waist. 

He tried to ignore the hammering of his heart and for a long time he wouldn’t allow himself to look at your peaceful face, but when he did his breath caught in his throat and he had to force himself to look ahead again. 

When you finally caught up to Aethelflaed and Sihtric relayed the news, you were almost dead on your feet. 

Sihtric agreed to take Aethelflaed to where Osferth and Eadith were caring for Aelfwynn, and you delayed a moment.

“Leave me here,” you urged, “I will slow you down.”

“No,” Sihtric shook his head furiously, “I will not leave without you.”

“Sihtric,” you sighed.

“No y/n I am sworn to you and I will not abandon you. Where you go, I go.” 

You knew him just well enough to know you were not going to win this battle so reluctantly you climbed back onto his horse. 

When you finally reached Aegelesburgh to the news that Uhtred was to be named the Lord of Mercia, Sihtric went to go drinking with Finan and Osferth, but you went to catch some sleep. Promising you would meet him in the alehouse afterwards. 

You arrived to a very solemn, very quiet group of soldiers, lamenting the fact that Uhtred had given up his chance to rule Mercia. Stiorra moved up a space to allow you to sit beside Sihtric and he bumped you reassuringly with his shoulder despite his sour mood. Finan returned with two jugs of ale and Eadith and you all settled into a heavy night of drinking. So much so that when the time came to depart for bed Osferth was sick outside and you were unsteady on your feet, so much so that you had linked arms with Finan while he sang some merry tune. Sihtric could not deny the fiery jealousy that was burning in his stomach as he watched you walk ahead.

He watched you throw your head back in laughter as the Irish man spun you around, “I’m going to slip,” you giggled and the sound was devastating to Sihtric, he would never make you laugh like that, and you would never allow yourself to be this carefree around him. Forever, you would be guarded and wary of him. That was the real curse. 

He huffed and stormed past you both, refusing a glance at you both and you scoffed “What’s up his arse?” 

“Can’t you tell?” Finan laughed “He’s soft on you and in all fairness I’ve been hogging you all night.”

It was like you were sober in that instant. Sihtric was developing feelings for you and you had sworn to hate him forever. 

You couldn’t sleep, and you certainly couldn’t stay, so you made up your mind to leave at first light. You would gather enough provisions to make it on your own. Your heart was sad because you had grown accustomed to the company, to Sihtric in particular. His reassuring touches, his gentleness and the way his eyes seemed to always be on your. Those eyes. “Curse those eyes,” you spat but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to mean it.

At first light you began to pack your things together and startled when a gentle knock on your door pulled your focus away from the task.

You opened it fully surprised to see Sihtric standing sheepishly outside.

“We’ve been tasked with escorting the Lady Aelswith safely on her way to Bedwyn- Are you going somewhere?” he asked eyes frantically inspecting the items on your bed.

“I’m leaving, yes.” you answered defiantly.

“Leaving?” he rushed “But where will you go? Why are you leaving? I am sworn to you. We should stay together, no?”

“You are sworn to Lord Uhtred, you go wherever he commands,” you quipped.

“No. No!” he huffed stepping foot into your room before you come stop him, “You can’t leave, where will you go? Back on the road? I won’t allow it!” 

“You won’t allow it?” you scoffed “And what on earth makes you think you have any say in what I do or where I go?” 

“I have sworn myself to you, on Thor, until you release me, or have you forgotten? Your safety is everything to me. All I have done is try to keep you safe. Can you not see that?”

“If your concern is your oath I release you, there you are free from your bond and I am free to take leave of you,” you turned on your heel and began hastily pushing things into your travel bag.

“You would dismiss me so easily?” Sihtric sounded crestfallen, his mind was scrambling a thousand miles a minute trying to comprehend what was happening and trying to find something, anything to say to make you stay.

“Sihtric, I’m not entirely sure what you think we are to each other. Did you think us friends? Lovers? I never agreed to either of those.” 

“So what if I did love you, y/n is that so terrible? I have tried in so many ways to show you that I am not the man you thought I was. But you are intent on hating me forever aren’t you? It’s hopeless, I will always be the heathen who plundered your village to you. Nothing more.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears because it was quite the opposite, you could not hate him.

“It is hopeless,” you repeated, “And you should not be prevailed upon to look at someone you love, who does not love you back every day.” 

“Could you,” he looked down at his feet, unable to meet your eyes, “Could you not love me, some day?” 

You wanted to burst into tears right there and then, throw yourself into his arms and tell him you loved him already, Sihtric could see your resolve melting and it was enough to spur him on, he took your hand in his and squeezed it three times. You had long suspected he did it to reassure himself more than you and this moment confirmed it.

“Sihtric, how could we ever be?” you cried “Look at how we began. I can’t look into your eyes and promise you that I will never not harbour resentment for what I went through at the hands of your men.” 

“And I can never make that up to you, even though I would give my life to do it,” he replied. You sniffled and allowed him to pull you to him as he embraced you tightly.

“Let me go Sihtric,” you mumbled against his skin, “Let me go as I have released you,” he nodded slowly and when you broke apart you noticed there were tears in his eyes.

“I lift my curse,” you nodded, tears falling from your own eyes“Go forward and know that I wish you no more ill.”

Sihtric looked into your eyes for what felt like hours, before finally with a firm nod he departed your room and you briefly considered running after him before making your mind up resolutely to let him go, for his own good. 

And so you departed Aegelesburgh before Uhtred’s band had even gathered their belongings to leave. 

After you had been walking for hours, you came across a band of Danes, careful to jump off the road and remain among the trees but it was unmistakable, a hoard of Danes were making their way along the road you had just traveled and it did not sit right in your stomach. 

“How much further to Winchester?” one of them complained and your stomach dropped.

Uhtred and Sihtric were going to walk right into this trap and without even thinking your actions through you took to running back in the direction you came from, you were hoping against hope you could intercede them and warn them before the Danes got to them. Your heart racing in your mouth with each step, if something happened to Sihtric and you never got to tell him how you felt you would never forgive yourself. 

You had lost track of the Danes along the road, but you no longer heard them and that worried you immensely. Still you ran as fast as your legs would allow you. Until you came to the remains of what would have been a camp for the night and you carefully made your way among the trees, you had to cover your mouth with your own hand to stop yourself screaming at the sight in front of you, hanging upside down from a tree was Uhtred, Finan, Osferth, Father Pyrlig and Sihtric. You had to fight the urge to be sick, but they were guarded by two Danes you did not have a hope of defeating alone, so you needed to act quickly, it didn’t help that you could visibly see Sihtric was not doing well and he was in trouble. 

Everyone startled at the bloodcurdling scream they heard from within the forest, and when it was followed by another more pained, one of the Danes went to inspect.

You made quick work of him with your dagger, stabbing furiously until you were sure he was dead and then you stole his ax, and silently crept back up to the camp, avoiding the second Dane who ran into the woods calling his friends name. 

“Y/n, quickly, go to Sihtric!” Uhtred urged in surprise and you made quick work of the binds tying his hands together, trying your best not to panic as his arms hung limp beside his head, and then you swung wildly at the rope tying his feet, grunting under the strain as Finan shouted words of encouragement, as he fell you grapsed his face in your hands “You’re alright, you’re alright,” you assured but Uhtred shouted for you to release Pyrlig and so you sprung into action while Sihtric attempted to regain composure.

As you were working on Pyrlig, the second Dane returned and you watched Sihtric grapple with him and when you finally released Pyrlig the two of them took him down, Sihtric stabbing wildly until he Dane finally fell.

You made quick work of Osferth, Finan and finally Uhtred. 

When all were finally free you ran to Sihtric graping him into your embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” you kept repeating while he placed kisses to your head and face, anywhere his lips could land. “It’s alright, I’m alright,” he repeated in  between kisses. 

But you did not have time to revel in the moment as Uhtred had commanded you all to run, the Danes had Stiorra and you were going to make the journey on foot to Winchester, and so you found yourself hand clasped in Sihtric’s once more running through fields in an attempt to keep up.

Not stopping once until you reached Winchester, but Sihtric never once let go of your hand.

When you volunteered yourself to go in disguise to check on the captives, Sihtric wanted to be sick. If the Danes in Winchester were preparing for a siege you were going to be stuck inside but you were certain on your path. 

And you surprised even yourself with the gumption you had found, as the guards cleared you to enter the city.

But it did not take long before you found yourself in Haeston’s hands as you had tried to enter the castle using Eardwulf’s execution as a distraction. The moment he grasped you, you knew you were in trouble.

“What do you want with me?” you cried as he dragged you across the courtyard but you already knew what he wanted, as he pulled you up to the loft of a building and you prayed that you would have no need to use your dagger on him, because you would in a heartbeat.

Thirty days passed under Haeston's control with the city under siege. He tried each night to lay with you for the first two weeks but each night you rebuked him with warnings of gouging out his eyes whilst he slept. He brought you morsels of whatever food he could find and as you weakened, he relished in your lack of strength. He was the worse kind of predator, the one who strikes only when the prey is too weak to defend itself, but you would not allow yourself to become his prey. 

But when he frantically came up to grab you, telling you the battle had come, that he did not want to face it, your heart hammered excitedly at the prospect of seeing Sihtric again. 

He pulled you along until you finally found your strength lashing out at him until he relented and released you.

“Stay here and you will die,” he spat and you stood fast.

“Die then ungrateful bitch,” he shot before turning his back and fleeing.

You ended up in the midst of the fighting, with only your dagger for protection, but in the chaos you fell and were being trampled on, worsened when both sides shouted for a shield wall. It was Finan who had heard your groans of pain, breaking the shield wall in order to pick you up and carry you to safety. 

As soon as the negotiations began Sihtric was by your side, mismatched eyes searching every part of your body for injury. 

“My love,” he cried “Oh my love,”

“Sihtric,” you mumbled, allowing him to pull you to him, you hand flew up to trace the scar on his face and you ran your thumb across his lips “Your eyes that I have cursed a thousand times were the only thing that kept me going. Each night I would dream about your eyes and I would find the strength to endure. I was wrong to tell you I could not love you Sihtric, you are the only man I could ever love,” you cried and he shushed you, gently bringing his lips down to meet yours and you whimpered at his gentleness. 

That night you stayed with Sihtric. He tended to your wounds with delicate hands and shaking fingers. He was afraid that you were going to disappear at any moment, but he stilled all actions when he felt you begin to cry in his arms.

“My love? Did I hurt you?” he almost shrieked and you shook your head vehemently.

“I was so wrong about you, Sihtric. I feel I’ve been cruel. I shouldn’t have tried to dismiss your feelings back in Aegelesburgh.”

“None of that matters,” Sihtric shushed you, cupping your face in his rough, tattooed hands “What matters is you know how I feel about you, and you know that I am yours for as long as you want me.”

“I want you forever,” you cried, placing your own hands over his, and turning your face to press your lips to the palm of his right hand. 

He was gentle laying you down on the bed, pressing sweet wet kisses to every inch of skin that became exposed to him as he undressed you, and you eagerly pulled his clothes until they too were a discarded mess on the floor. 

Sihtric’s groans were delicious in your ear and the gentle pace he set, had you gasping for air as he teased you.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you panted and Sihtric’s mismatched eyes, flashed to yours in worry “I reinstate my curse on your eyes,”

“Oh yeah?” Sihtric laughed rolling his hips with a flick that had you gasping.

“I curse them to only love me for all your life,” you grinned, trailing your hands along the sides of his torso.

“In that case I am happy to be cursed love,” he grinned, picking up speed and not relenting until you came apart in his hands, finally reaching his own high as he bit down on your shoulder. 

“I will love you from here to Valhalla," he panted "And cursed eyes don't lie,” he chuckled before collapsing down beside you.

Tagging: @canyonmoon-2 @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @shamrockqueen @thenameswinter99 @foxyanon @acdassenza @thatawkwardlittlefangirl 

[tired-biscuit]

Naruto’s endless stamina is not talked about enough like I can only imagine him needing to fuck all the time to the point that he is eating you out in your sleep, rutting into the mattress because he can’t get enough of you and he has to get his energy out somehow. consenting, of course!

yes, yes, yes, oh my gosh! this man fucks like a rabbit!

i think that before he becomes hokage he’s got all this free time and energy and stamina that not even training and missions can tame. to make matters even worse, he’s also like the biggest perv ever but hides it so well behind the whole sunshine boy persona!

like, for example, you visit him to cook him some dinner because he’s been busy all day, but instead you end up getting fondled in front of the stove. he’s messily kissing your neck, murmuring soft thank you’s into your skin as he presses himself against you in a way that lets you feel the ridge of his cock against your ass…

or, or, or, maybe you go out for some drinks with friends! he thinks you’re just so pretty when you’re all dolled up; in your little dress and with gloss on your lips that probably tastes really sweet if he were to dart his tongue over it. how couldn’t he get a little bit touchy and maybe try to bend you over against the tiles in the bar’s bathroom? or maybe you could just go home early so that he can pound you until sunrise or until the bed breaks? he’s buzzing about the idea already, he needs release.

stuff like that.

his mind is very fleeting and male-like. i think you’d need to cockwarm him in order to make him focus sometimes because otherwise he’s just constantly groping you and touching you and is trying to sneak his way into your panties no matter what, etc. (he just loves you so much, he has to show it somehow!)

because if you sit on his lap and let him fill up your pussy, maybe he’ll actually listen to you. he’ll whine and moan and beg you to start bouncing, of course, but maybe if you grab him by the chin and look him in his pretty blue eyes, he’ll shut up for a change and stop for a second to calm the fuck down.

[cognacdelights]

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [2]

gif by @spacedean.

my supernatural masterlist

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [1]

summary: she craves male validation. he's the best high she's ever gotten. now they're both stuck in a sick and twisted game of foreplay that neither are willing to lose.

warnings: a whole fuck tonne of daddy issues. self-esteem issues. abandonment issues. i am well aware that this is not a healthy relationship and is for entertainment purposes only. sexual content and themes. praise kink. mentions of death and grief. swearing. alcohol use. religious undertones. small age gap romance.

author's note: sorry that it took so long to post. i had a few issues. but we're here. also, i got carried away. it's now going to be in three parts, but i promise that the final part will be worth the wait. minors have been warned. do not interact.

Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel out of boredom. His heavy metal mixtape filled the background as he watched carefully out the windscreen, observing the world before him. He was always watching. Scrutinising. That’s how he managed to stay ten steps ahead — by knowing his environment, noticing when the tiniest of details were off. His eyes scoured every inch of the scene that unfolded in front of him, followed people and their every movement, and noticed every little detail.

The faint smell of chlorine hung in the late-spring air and smoke-like clouds loomed in the distance; there was a flash thunderstorm brewing nearby. The bearded barista’s apron pocket was stuffed full of dollar bills, yet in the six hours that he had been parked there he’d only seen six or seven customers wander inside the upmarket coffee house — and one of them was Sam; he was most likely stealing from the cash register. Short-changing customers and pocketing the difference. And the cops were clearly rattled by the deaths at the boarding school; three patrol cars had cruised past in the last thirty minutes, and there were extra patrols on foot. They were on high alert.

The door to the Impala opened, and Dean instinctively whipped his head towards the passenger side. His malachite eyes found Maggie — dressed in a modest, high-neck blouse and a long, flowing skirt that grazed her ankles. Her dark locks were neatly braided into a sensible bun at the nape of her neck, and a natural layer of make-up cleverly hid the garish welt that stained her cheek. She looked positively prudent. Respectable, even. He almost didn’t recognise her.

“Nice get up,” he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a half-smirk as he turned the music down.

Maggie responded with a tight-lipped, sardonic smile — then flipped him her middle finger — as she climbed into the passenger side. She reached into the depths of her leather purse and retrieved two matching pieces of cloth; they were tied neatly into parcels and wreaked of flower-like herbs. She threw them carelessly towards Dean as the door slammed shut behind her.

“Hex bags?” Dean raised an untamed eyebrow. He curiously untied the leather string that held the cloth together and peered inside at the contents. Rabbit’s teeth, bird bones, and lavender.

“Hex bags,” the feisty brunette confirmed. Her fingers found the clear buttons of her blouse and swiftly began unbuttoning — the high-necked garment uncomfortable and suffocating around her throat. “Matching, best friend hex bags. I found them in both their dorm rooms.” Oh, the irony of a witch in a Catholic boarding school.

Dragging his tongue along the dry ridges of his bottom lip as his gaze followed her quick-moving fingers, he watched in anticipation as she exposed her chest to him once again without any hint of hesitation. As the black, lace fringes of her bralette were exposed he cleared his throat and diverted his attention back to the contents of the hex bags. “So, uh—” he twiddled with the bird bones, fighting the urge to take her half-naked body in once again, “—that’s great. We just find the jealous third wheel and case closed.”  

“If only it was that easy.” Maggie ridded herself of the god-awful, itchy blouse. She clumsily kicked off the kitten heels that had rubbed her heels to glory and pushed the waistband of the skirt down her thighs. “Missy Braun was a resident Regina George, and Imogan was her Gretchen Weiners.”

Dean peered towards her out of the corner of his eyes and simply blinked; Maggie may as well have been speaking a foreign language.

Rolling her umber eyes at his lack of pop culture knowledge, she explained, “Missy and Imogen terrorised the school.” Her long, pleated skirt fell into a crumpled pile in the footwell and was soon joined by her tan-coloured tights. “There are about three-hundred potential Sabrina the Teenage Witch’s on roll that those girls have humiliated in some kind of way, and we only have two days to find her. They’re shipping them all back to Mommy and Daddy for an early summer vacation come Friday.”

“Looks like we got some work to do,” he mused in his usual, sarcastic tone. It was then that he caught sight of her in the rear-view mirror — round ass shamelessly in the air and covered only by the thin string of her thong as she leant over the seat, reaching for her clothes in the backseat. Jesus Christ, she really was going to be the death of him. He adjusted himself in his seat, finding a more comfortable position that kept his semi-erection a secret.

“Where’s Sam?” she questioned casually. Maggie had noticed the empty coffee cup that had his name and order scrawled across the side, discarded in the cup holder, and the noticeable lack of his presence. There was an unmentioned tension that hung in the air between them; it surrounded them, holding them in a tight coil and squeezing until the pressure overflowed in way of a petty sibling squabble. Even though Maggie had grown up with the Winchester Brothers, their bickering still drove her to the point of insanity.

“Gone for a walk.”

“Okay—” she twisted her half-naked body back around and slid into a sitting position, t-shirt and shorts in hand, and asked directly, “—what the hell is going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Dean deflected, folding his arms across his muscular chest in an obvious display of defence, “we’re fine.”

Maggie sent him an unrelenting glare. One that Dean was no match for. He broke instantly with a long exhale and threw his head back against the leather seat.

He was quiet for a second longer, formulating the words in his mind. “He shacked up with Amelia when I was in purgatory,” Dean admitted with a careful choice of words — cleverly calculated to keep his deepest and darkest emotions from surfacing.

“I know.” That was all she said. I know. It was tactical really. She knew Dean Winchester far too well. In fact, she knew the man better than he knew himself, and this was one of his best self-defence tactics. Give just about enough to satisfy them without giving anything away at all. Keep everybody at a distance so when you give an inch, they’ll think it’s a mile. But that didn’t wash with Maggie. Maggie knew better. Maggie used the same damn tactics herself.

She merely shimmied a pair of ripped, denim shorts up her thighs.

It took several moments of an awkward silence before Dean broke once more. “So—” he reluctantly delved further, “—instead of looking for me, he was holed up in a motel room doing the horizontal line dance with Florence Nightingale.”

“First of all—” Maggie pulled a t-shirt that he distinctly recognised as being one of his own over her head, “—Florence Nightingale was a human nurse, not a dog nurse. You’re thinking of Dr Doolittle.” She tied the hem at her abdomen into a crop. “And secondly, I know.”

“If you know all of this, then why are you asking me what’s going on?” His head swivelled to face her abruptly in frustration.

“Because you’re being an asshole, and you’re fobbing me off with some bullshit excuse to shut me up,” she answered, casually shrugging her shoulders. Tugging at the elastic in her hair, she released the braided bun and combed her fingers through her long, sleek locks. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Dean.”

He threw his head back against the seat once more, rubbing the palms of his hands over his face. A loud, defeated groan echoed throughout the Impala; this was the last conversation he wanted to have with a half-mast hard on. “Can we just drop this already?”

Of course, in true Maggie May fashion, she ignored his very obvious pleas to leave this subject well alone. “You’re hurt that he didn’t come looking for you, aren’t you?” she spit-balled her thoughts on the situation, “you’re upset that he moved on without you.”

Dean sent her a look. It was one that she couldn’t quite interpret. A cocktail of emotions swirled around his tired eyes as they glazed over ever so subtly. His stubble-lined lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke, voice considerably timid. “I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d gotten Sam back if he was the one stuck in purgatory.”

“Dean—” her whole demeanour shifted, softened, as she scooted closer to him. Her arm rested atop the back of the seat and her body twisted towards him, her legs haphazardly hanging over his. “There’s a few things that you need to remember here. Sam isn’t you. Your childhood was a lot different to Sam’s. You were raised to protect him at all costs — hell, you raised him yourself. You weren’t just his brother. You were Mom and Dad too. Yeah, Sam was taught family above everything, but he didn’t have the responsibility of someone else’s life in his hands.”

He watched cautiously as she leant forwards, the gentle palm of her hand resting on his shoulder. It was such a simple gesture, but the warmth of her touch comforted him immensely. “It just—” he really did struggle with emotions, even if it was easier with Maggie, “—feels like a punch in the gut.”

“You know, deep down, that Sam never wanted this life. He went to Stanford. He applied to law school. He wanted to be a lawyer, and get married, and buy a house with a white picket fence, and have two point five kids. The whole shebang. He wanted a normal life. And Sam grieved in the same way that a normal person would. He put you to rest and built a new life for himself, and he just so happened to find someone that he really cares about in the process. I might not like her, or agree with what he did, but I understand why he did it. He made a normal life for himself.”

Gradually, he melted into her delicate touch; he found solace in her words and the strokes of her fingers against his skin. He knew that what she was saying made sense, and he knew that she was right, but it didn’t curb the anguish that consumed the very pit of his stomach.

“Sam loves you very much Dean, and he idolises you. Hell, that’s probably why he left this woman that he loves to jump back into a life that he doesn’t want. To be with his big brother. And yeah, he probably feels guilty for not looking for you. For being happy with Amelia whilst you were fighting for your life in purgatory. But you can’t blame him, or even hate him, for going after what he really wanted. He thought you were dead. We all did. You just disappeared. How was he supposed to know where you were, or what happened to you?”

Dean simply exhaled in response. Words were too difficult in that moment. Mostly because everything that Maggie was saying was right. She had rationalised everything for him, plain and simple for him to understand. Now he just had to come to terms with it.

“I’m not taking his side—” Maggie reaffirmed with a tender tone, “—I’m actually on your side.” She dragged her finger carefully down the length of his neck and traced the glimmering metal chain of his cross necklace, toying with it. “I’m on the side of you not holding onto all this resentment and hatred for your brother, that I know you love very deeply. I’m on the side of letting whatever this right now is go and moving on with your own life. You’ll regret it.”

“And what about you?” his eyes flicked up to meet her own.  

A reticent laugh spilled from her throat, “that’s a lot to unpack and we’ve had enough chick flick moments for today.” She couldn’t ignore the obviously elephant in the room any longer that she herself was harbouring a stubborn grudge against the youngest Winchester, too. But she was going to give it her damned best effort. She chose to ignore the disapproving shake of his head that she’d earned.

The fox-eyed brunette reached upwards and placed a loving peck against his cheek before he could respond, signifying the end of their conversation. Her gentle lips lingered against his skin, replaced only with a fervent burning sensation. She untangled her bruised legs from his body and shuffled back into the passenger side.

Dean gave her thigh an appreciative squeeze. A silent thank you, and a hopeful reminder that he was there to listen whenever she was ready.

Maggie’s lips twitched ever so slightly into a smile as she peered out the window. Suddenly, she was one with the clouds. That familiar jolt of electric that she felt every time he touched her.

Maggie and The Winchesters had committed numerous crimes over the years. Breaking and Entering. Impersonating a Federal Agent. Grand Theft Auto. There had to be a case for kidnapping in there somewhere with all the times they’d shoved a demon into their trunk and hit gas. However, stealing confidential information about private school girls and proceeding to stalk them in every area of their sordid lives might just take the biscuit. If anything, this was the one that was going to get them caught. This was the one that was going to stick. It didn’t look good from any angle, and there wasn’t a single explanation that was going to make it any less creepy.

Maggie sat in the leather armchair — her bare leg pulled up in front of her and her spine arched at an unhealthy angle as she scrolled through the social media site. An open, room-temperature beer stood beside her laptop, always within touching distance, with a crumpled-up register of all three hundred and sixteen students beside it. Condensation from her thawing beer had dribbled onto the paper, staining and blurring the ink of her rambling notes. They would only make sense to her anyway.

Sam perched opposite her, fixated on his own laptop. His long hair was dishevelled and tucked behind his ears, and his pin-strip shirt had been unbuttoned to reveal the navy t-shirt beneath. His own beer had gone relatively untouched, now flat and bordering on stale.

“Well, it looks like the field hockey team were out of town during both murders,” his smooth voice filled the room, airing out his findings. His bloodshot eyes peeled away from his brightly lit screen long enough to meet with hers and capture her attention. “We can rule out an Emmy Palladino, Victoria Harding, Shannon Brackenridge, Kayleigh Dougherty, and a Fallon Carpenter. There’s others but they’re not tagged.”

In one swift motion, she placed the pen between her teeth and pulled the ball point free. She searched through the seemingly endless list of suspect names and crossed them off as they appeared.

The harsh taps of Sam’s fingers hitting against the keys sounded through the motel room. Then, he spoke again, reeling off another list of names at an unhelpful speed, “—ah. Verity Montrose, Daphne Alcott, Annaleise—”

“Slow the fuck down,” Maggie grumbled as she tried to keep up with him. Her pen scratching against the thin paper, and the hard wood of the table, filled the awkward silence between.

Until it didn’t. And Sam was left uncomfortably waiting for permission to continue. He looked anywhere but the laptop screen before him as an icky feeling swirled in his stomach; there was just something about digitally stalking teenaged schoolgirls that made him feel dirty. Even though it was rationalised as being a part of the job, it still wasn’t his favourite thing to do.

“You know—” she piped up, popping the cap back on her pen with a purpose, “— you really hurt him, right?”

“Him, or you?” Sam questioned. His dark, thick eyebrows furrowed together, almost accusingly as he stared towards the petite brunette.

“Both,” Maggie admitted candidly. Her posture straightened as her shoulders fell backwards in a defensive move and a blazing glare bounced back towards him. “But this is about Dean.”

“Yeah—” he let out a breath, unfamiliar with the vicious heat of Maggie’s anger being directed towards him, “—I sorta gathered that. He’s giving me the cold shoulder and benching me on cases like he’s Dad.” He sat back, his back falling against the stiffness of the chair. “He won’t talk to me.”

“It’s Dean, he isn’t going to.”

Sam shrugged his broad shoulders out of exasperation, a look of helplessness etched into his fuzzy features. “I don’t know what he wants from me anymore,” he admitted solemnly, “I left Amelia for him. I jumped back on the road at the drop of his hat. I gave up my job, and the first place that I’ve called home in… forever. I don’t know what else he wants me to do.”

“He’s a stubborn asshole sometimes—” Maggie agreed, “—but it only ever comes from a good place.”

“You’re telling me?” he let out an indignant scoff, his voice raising to a pitch he never thought he’d take with her, “—if he’s not digging me out for stupid things, he’s giving me the silent treatment. He won’t listen to anything that I say. Everything is done Dean’s way, in Dean’s time, exactly how Dean wants it. Whether it’s right or not. I’m almost thirty and still being treated like a child. He’s no better than Dad at this point.” His boot-clad foot propped against the wooden leg of the table as he leaned backwards in his chair. “I should have known you would take his side. You always do.”

“This isn’t about taking sides. This is about you two not killing each other so we can get this job done and move on with our damn lives.” She was surprisingly calm in her response, despite her defensive flags being up. The very tips of her ears tinged an angry shade of rouge and her pruned brows dipped inwards. Her tone wasn’t it’s usual melody by any means — and her tongue dripped with poison — but she refrained from raising her voice. “Dean raised you. Dean dragged your ass up and did a damn good job of it given the circumstances. So, excuse him if the lines between brother and father are a little blurred here.”

Sam ran his fingers through his long locks, frustration evident in the way his face contorted into a frown. He opened his mouth to reply but was abruptly silenced when she continued; she wasn’t afraid to speak over him and make sure that her opinion was heard.

“You know, Dean told me that he wouldn’t have stopped until he found you. He would die for you — hell, he has died for you. He sold his soul for you. He went to Hell for you. And you just gave up on him at the first hurdle.” Maggie grabbed her beer and took a long sip, allowing the rage that was slowly building in the pit of her stomach to subside before proceeding. “Dean has a right to be upset that the brother that he loves, that he gave his life for, didn’t even bother to go looking for him. He has a right to be upset that the same sentiment wasn’t returned.”

“Maggie, that’s not what happ—”

“I’m not finished,” she cut him off curtly. Her dark, cinnamon eyes bore into his as she spoke soberly. “And he’s right to bench you from the job. You’ve been out of the game for a year. You’re out of practice and your head isn’t in the game. You’re still caught up on Amelia and that’s going to get somebody killed. The best place for you right now is doing research. And it’s just tough shit that you don’t like that.”

He was left in a pensive silence; she left him to soak up her words, to digest them fully. And he did. Sam saw things a little clearer, but that didn’t mean he liked what he saw. He often liked to live in a world where Dean, his father, and the lifestyle that he had been born into were the root cause of everything that had gone wrong in his life. And, most times, one or the other were to blame. However, Sam often failed to accept his own responsibility in things. After all, it was easier to blame Dean and his father.

Although, after several, drawn-out seconds, she couldn’t resist spilling the words that flooded her brain once more. “Maybe I am taking his side—” she contemplated aloud, “—but, this time, he deserves it.”

“So, what does he want?” he asked genuinely, “an apology?”

Maggie merely shrugged her petite shoulders. “An apology wouldn’t be the worst place to start.”

He raised an untamed eyebrow as he questioned cautiously, “and what about you?”

She stared at her beer on the table. The label was soggy and peeling off the side of the bottle. Small, carbonated bubbles rose from the very bottom of the bottle to the quarter line, where the liquid stopped. “I want the last year of my life back,” she told him. The viper had retreated and had left a door mouse in it’s place.

“Mags—” Sam breathed out unsteadily, still feeling the heat of their exchange, “—I’m sorry.”

“You turfed me out on my ass and told me to git,” Maggie recounted with a detached tone. Her cold gaze peeked above the rim of the bottle and pierced through him. “Dean was gone and you just left me. Alone. You, of all freaking people, left me alone. It took me weeks to catch up with you in Texas. Weeks. And when I finally did, you tossed me out like I was some piece of trash. I had no one, and I needed you. But you were too busy cosying up with Amelia. You didn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

“You ever thought that, maybe, I didn’t want to be found?” he spat back with sharp words, each syllable lacerating her diminished defence. He dragged his tongue along the upper row of his teeth. “I was grieving for my brother in my own way, and that didn’t involve you, Maggie.”

She was overcome with emotion. A fuck tonne of heavy, painful emotions. All of the grief that had consumed her — strangled her, choked her, suffocated her — over the past year had finally come to a head. It had churned her stomach sick for twelve long months; it had burned the inside of her throat; and it had decayed her insides until she was nothing but a walking meat sack of anguish and despair. Not anymore. She was about to expel that demon.

“So was I,” she screeched, her bottom lip rippling ever so slightly as her eyes burned with salt-laden tears, “I was grieving Dean, too.” Her chest heaved up and down as she took deep breaths; exhaustion poured out of her from every angle as all of the pent-up emotions from the past year began to creep to the surface and seep out.

“That’s enough—” Dean’s gravel-like tone filled the motel room as he appeared in the doorway, a take-out bag full of waffle fries and chicken tenders clutched against his chest, “—the both of you.”

The palms of her hands pressed against the table as she pushed herself to standing. Maggie made for the motel room door, a well of tears fighting to escape against the barricade of her waterline. Her heart thudded tenfold against her chest when she felt his ring-cladded fingers wrap around her wrist as she attempted to slip past him, and a high-pitched ringing blared through her ears. She simply shook her head at him, and slid herself from his grip, before disappearing out the door.

Maggie had vowed to sleep in her truck that night. The stubborn, defiant side of her had reared its ugly head and was seemingly there to stay. A permanent scowl had etched itself into her fair features — her full, rose lips pulled into a downturned pout and deep-rooted frown lines crinkled her forehead. Her umber eyes were reddened from the sting of tears, and her flushed cheeks were stained with streaks of strays that slipped past her reinforced defences. An empty cone of waffle fries and a half-used barbecue dip occupied her passenger side seat, as an empty beer bottle sat, in pride of place, in the cup holder.

However, as the clock ticked over into the am and the temperatures ran cruelly bitter, Maggie begrudgingly relinquished. She tip-toed back into the dark motel room and slipped into bed, beside Dean. She was careful with her movements, slow and steady, as she lifted the quilted blanket and nestled herself inside.

Dean stirred when he felt the spring-filled mattress dip, yet his eyes remained closed. A shiver danced along his spine in an elegant ballet sequence as she burrowed her ice-like toes between his legs, pressing them against his calves. His sweltering skin burned at the contact and felt her feet thawing against him. God, he hated with an undying passion when she did that.

“Maggie May—” he let out a low grumble, “—get them goddamn feet off me.”

“It’s just until they warm up,” she whispered back, her voice dainty and quiet. It was never just until they warmed up.

His burly arm casually stretched across the flattened pillows in an open invitation to the petite brunette. She currently resided on the opposite side of the bed, clinging onto the edge of the mattress. He knew that she would come to him in her own time — when she was good and ready. She always did. However, for the sake of an extra half an hour of much-needed shut-eye, there was no harm in hurrying that along. “Get here,” he rasped deeply.

Maggie shuffled closer, nestling into his side. As she laid her cheek against the bare skin of his chest, it burned. Dean emanated heat, from everywhere. Her arm lay casually across his stomach as she burrowed her feet further between his legs. She felt the gravelly vibrations of his disapproving grunts as a small smile curled the corners of her lips upwards.

The palm of his hand found her back — his thumb gently caressing the bumps of her spine. Slow, tender movements eventually faded into nothing as he fell back asleep. The sound of his soft breaths eventually turned to gruff snores.

When Maggie woke in the morning, it was abrupt. She turned herself over, eyes remained closed as she desperately grasped onto the frayed strings of a peaceful slumber. She poised her bare leg, ready for her thigh to fall over Dean’s thick, muscular ones. But it didn’t. All she felt was the cool crumples of the bed sheet, where he once laid. There were no chainsaw-like snores reverberating around the room. There were no cadenced breaths that fanned against her forehead, tippling down to the very tip of her nose. There were no calloused palms caressing the lengths of her half-naked body. There was no feverish heat radiating from his side of the bed.

Her sleep-filled eyes peeled open instantly and she propped herself up by her elbows. Her heartbeat pounded with rapid thuds and her stomach churned with bile — forcing it up into the crevices of her throat. Static coated her exposed skin, making the hairs stand on end. In a bleary haze, she scanned the room and her gaze fell on the nightstand. Car keys. Phone. Gun. All still laying, haphazardly discarded, exactly where Dean had left them. A long exhale deflated her lungs as she allowed her eyes to wander the motel room further, feeling the trepidation slowly leaving her body; it seeped out through her pores, evaporated off her skin into the musty motel air. His boots lay at the foot of the leather armchair and his jacket lay in a rumpled heap over the arm.

She let out another deep breath and let the relief overcome her. It gave her more clarity as she spied the harsh, white lighting emerging from the cracks in the doorway to the bathroom. The sound of the running shower soon filled the room, alongside the grating echoes of Sam’s snores.

There was something that that just drew Maggie to him. It was an ever-present presence, a sensation, a feeling. The invisible string. The slightest of tugs had her gravitating towards him, and vice versa. And that moment wasn’t any different. She felt the ever-familiar tug in the very pit of her stomach, and she answered to it. There was no use in fighting with it.

Climbing out of bed, she made her way across the motel room. Her feet were bare and padded lightly against the dull carpet until she reached the bathroom door. Carefully, she turned it and slipped inside. Sam remained sleeping not so peacefully, and none the wiser.

It was considerably warmer than outside in the main living space; the room fogged over with tepid steam as condensation laced the mirror. Maggie stepped onto the apricot bathmat and slinked out of her sleepwear. The old, logo-printed t-shirt and her plaid shorts ended up in a crumpled pile on the floor. Her lemon-coloured thong skimmed her bruised thighs as it dropped to the floor, and she stepped out, embracing the nakedness.

Maggie slowly peeled back the curtain and stepped inside the tub.

Dean turned to face her — his eyebrow arched questioningly, and his body draped with glistening water droplets, “can I help you?” His voice was low and scratchy; just how Maggie liked it. He’d caught the soft click of the door as it opened, and the blurry outline of her silhouette as she undressed herself out of the corner of his eye.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” she answered with a reticent tone. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she felt a wave of nervousness; Maggie was in a newfound state of rawness. She was riding the wave of raw, untouched emotions and with that came a raw sense of vulnerability. She spoke her truth, even if hesitant. It was as though a dam had been broken the night prior, and all the pent-up emotions had been released.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he told her, stepping aside, “I thought you could use the sleep.”

Her slender figure slipped past him, under the water stream. Immediately, she was overcome with a warm and comforting feeling. Her dark lashes fluttered closed, and her muscles relaxed, her shoulders dropping backwards. She took a moment to relish the peacefulness of it all; the water pattered against her back at a heavenly pressure, and the warmth of the water felt like a loving embrace.

Dean took the opportunity to admire her naked self. Her breasts were full and pert — her taut nipples a glorious rose colour as the silver bars reflected under the harsh lights. Her curves were spectacular as an hourglass figure carved out her waistline. Her thighs were thick and juicy, and her pussy was freshly shaven. She truly was a sight to behold; full lips parted ever so slightly, dark locks slicked back, and a hint of a flush rouging her cheeks. He would savour this moment for the duration of his lifetime with several mental polaroids. Mentally framed and displayed in his Hall of Fame. He’d waited years for this moment, and it suddenly all became worth it.

Feeling the sear of his lust-filled eyes tearing her naked body apart, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I thought you’d left me,” she admitted quietly, chewing involuntarily on her bottom lip.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured. She needed that.

Dean reached his thumb upwards and, with one gentle motion, pulled her bottom lip from between her teeth. He then, ever so tenderly, placed a finger against her shoulder — guiding her to face away from him. She complied without question in her fragile state. His ring-clad finger meandered slowly down the length of her spine, until he reached her rounded ass. He wanted to give it a rough and playful squeeze — digging the crescent-shaped tips of his nails onto her fair skin and leaving his mark. But now wasn’t the time for rough; now was the time for tenderness. Maggie was delicate in more ways than one, and she needed soft. She needed comfort. She needed to feel his presence.

“You know—” he began, running his fingers through the lengths of her wet hair, “—you should take your own advice every once in a while.” He combed her chestnut wisps until they were sopping wet beneath the warm streams of water.

“What do you mean?” Maggie asked in response. She allowed herself to indulge in the feeling of the tepid water running along her body; it was calming — restorative even. It was as though she was washing away the memories of her emotional outburst from the previous night.

“You should let this thing with Sam go. Not for him, but for you.” Dean squeezed a generous dollop of her fruity-smelling shampoo onto the palm of his hand before massaging it through her hair. The tips of his nails grazed against her scalp in a gentle massage, working the product into a lather. “You told me to do it for me because it’s bad to hold onto so much anger and resentment. That same sentiment goes for you. It’ll eat you alive in the same way it would me, Mags.”

Her long lashes fluttered closed as she melted under his touch; the way in which his fingers worked her scalp scratched at her soul. “I can’t—” she deflated with a saddened exhale, “—I just can’t.” Her head tipped backwards as his masterful fingers found the sweet spot, a soft purring noise slipping from between her parted lips. “He was all I had left, and he still chose to leave me. I’ve spent the last year alone because of him. I needed him. I needed you.”

“Hey—” his palm carefully covered her forehead as he rinsed the shampoo from her roots, “—I’m here now.”

“But nobody was here this past year—” her voice cracked, making way for the heartache that she had held so deep inside of her, “—nobody was here when I needed them the most. Nobody was here when I bumped into my father on a hunt. Nobody was here when I was stabbed by a demon and was laying in the hospital as a Jane Doe for weeks. Nobody was here on the anniversary of Bobby’s death. Nobody was here on my freaking birthday. But Sam should have been. He promised me he would always be here.”

He continued rinsing down to the ends of her sopping locks, ensuring that he had gotten all the suds. “I agree. He should have been.” Placing the showerhead back in the holder, he picked up the bottle of conditioner. He squeezed out another generous blob and started running it through the ends of her hair. “Just think about it, yeah?”

Maggie stayed silent. She didn’t want to make any promises that she couldn’t keep — and if there was one thing about Maggie, the girl could hold a damn grudge.

Dean didn’t push her; he knew that would only push her in the opposite direction. Maggie did as Maggie pleased — or Maggie did as what made Maggie feel the least shitty about herself. She may know him better than he knows himself, but he knew her just as well. He knew her like the back of his hand; he knew the games that she played and exactly why she played them. Sometimes it was just a case of playing into them games. Sometimes it was anything to put a smile back on her face, and pull her out of the gloomy funk that she’d gotten herself in.

He simply rinsed the condition from her long, luscious strands. He took extra care to ensure that he’d got it all before reaching for her loofah. He lathered it with a sweet-smelling body wash and began scrubbing down her skin. He ghosted over her petite shoulders and arms, caressing each breast with an acute attention before continuing down to her stomach. He could feel the scald of her attentive eyes as she watched his every move. He continued down her body — seizing the opportunity to fondle her pert ass and exploring every inch of her juicy thighs. He reached her lilac-painted toes before trailing the loofah all the way back up. He skimmed the inside of her leg, grazed the mound of her pussy and past her naval, and brushed across her rigid nipple. She was enjoying that.

Once more, he detached the showerhead from the tiled wall and aimed it at her body. The pressure was just right as the stream hit against her shoulders, washing the suds away. He moved down to her ample breasts. A haughty smirk quirked the corners of his lips upwards as a low hum vibrated through her chest — the water hitting perfectly against her pierced buds. He took a half step closer to her as he slowly swirled the jet around her nipple, her back pressing against his sculpted chest. His hand snaked slowly around the concave of her waistline and settled against her hipbone as he continued downwards. He gently rinsed down her thighs.

Then, with one soft but commanding movement, he nudged her bruised thighs apart.

Maggie, consumed by the drips of dopamine coursing through her, obliged immediately. She spread her thighs apart, just enough to give him access to her aching cunt.

“Atta girl,” Dean praised with his usual, gravel-like tone. He aimed the water jet between her legs, letting the stream hit against her.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden contact. A familiar tingle crept along her spine and down into the very tips of her fingers. Her skin tinged with the fire that she had been keeping at bay — locked within the dark, dingy caverns of her soul. Her eyes fluttered shut as heavy breaths slipped from between her chewed-up lips. The jet circled around her clit in lazy ministrations, forcing a strangled whine to claw it’s way out of her throat. She caught it with her hand, pressing her dainty fingers against her lips in a knee-jerk reaction.

Arching her back at an unholy angle, she threw her head back against the robust muscles of her shoulder. Her mahogany tresses splayed across his tattooed chest as her hand reached up to grip onto his collar bone. She needed an anchor as the tension began to build up inside her. Her fingernails sunk into his wet skin, scraping and scratching until she broke the barrier. Heavy, sordid pants spilled from her mouth as the metaphorical rope began to coil around itself in the very pit of her stomach. It knotted once, twice, three times as her hips bucked candidly against the water stream — hitting her most sensitive of nerves.

“Dean,” his name rolled so effortlessly off her tongue with a salacious whine, her voice barley above a whisper. Her breath-like pants grew faster, and the metaphorical rope pulled tighter and tighter. Until her hand found her mouth once again, capturing the sinful moans that carelessly spewed from between her lips. Her curvaceous hips rocked back and forth in frantic motions, her back leveraged against his solid body, as she rode out her orgasmic high.

Dean eventually placed the showerhead back against the wall when she let out an overwhelmed whimper. His calloused palm still gripped her waist, keeping her naked body pressed against his own. His jade eyes peered downwards at the beauty before him, brimming with pride at the mess he had created; her cheeks were stained a fervent rose and her chest rose and fell in a rapid cadence as her lungs desperately pleaded for air.

Maggie nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, her eyes still closed. She felt the warmth of his lips as he placed a soft kiss into her hairline. Oxytocin and dopamine drowned everything surrounding her out. Everything but him. For several moments, the only sound she could hear was the gentle thuds of his heartbeat; the only thing that she could feel was the delicate traces of his fingertips against her hipbone; the only thing to exist was him.

Then, she felt a surge of adrenaline and her natural instincts took over. No thoughts or considerations of the consequences — just pure desire. She pulled herself from his tight embrace and turned on the tips of her toes. Her fix-like eyes gazed upwards into his as her arms wrapped around his neck, her bare silhouette pressing against his own. Her full lips ghosted against his, caressed them with a sweet embrace. It was nothing like either of them had anticipated; it was loving, and tender, and fragile. She continued with her soft touch as his hands clung onto her waistline — securing her in place. Their tongues moved together as one. Exploring. Tasting. Embracing.

After what felt like a hundred lifetimes, Dean retreated slowly. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her jawline. “We better get you back to Mary Magdalene’s, Sister Maggie. We’ve got a witch to find.”