Summary: Algumas histórias não terminam quando deveriam. Às vezes, basta um olhar do outro lado da sala para perceber que certas tentações nunca deixaram de existir.
divorced couple × ex-husband × unresolved feelings × mutual pining × forbidden attraction × second chance romance × one kiss × party night
🍒 ⋆｡°✩ 🖤 ✩°｡⋆ 🍒
"No último segundo, escolho cair na tentação em vez de fugir dela."
🍒 ⋆｡°✩ 🖤 ✩°｡⋆ 🍒
🍒𝑷𝒐𝒗. 𝑺𝒏🍒
O ambiente era moderadamente controlado, o cheiro de álcool e suor preenchia o ar, a música alta ecoava pelos ossos e zunia nos ouvidos. O local já era sufocante por si só. E não bastando isso, sentia o olhar constante do meu ex-marido sobre mim.
Suspiro inquieta, encostando a cabeça no braço da minha companhia. Era mais uma tentativa frustrada de me conectar com Matheus, e parar de pensar em como o homem do outro lado da sala estava bem-vestido, com o cabelo bem alinhado, a corrente brilhando no pescoço… e como devia estar cheiroso. Ele sempre estava.
Droga, qual é meu problema?! Por que tenho que pensar tanto no cheiro do meu ex,se estou acompanhada? Muito bem acompanhada.
– Está tudo bem? Parece distraída – sua mão aperta minha cintura levemente.
– Sim, estou bem – forço um sorriso.
Ele me encara por alguns segundos. Se percebeu que menti descaradamente, resolveu ignorar.
– Se você diz – me puxa mais para perto, voltando a prestar atenção na conversa que nossa roda tinha.
Novamente sinto aquele olhar em mim, procuro por ele na sala e quando acho, Daniel não desvia o olhar dessa vez. Parecia prestar tanta atenção em mim quanto eu nele.
Nossos olhares ficam presos por uns segundos, até que eu quebre a conexão. Olho para baixo, encarando como meu salto preto era tão bonito de repente. Respiro fundo, precisava me controlar.
– Vou ao banheiro – murmuro no ouvido do Matheus, sem dar chance de receber uma resposta antes de começar a me espremer pela multidão.
🖤𝑷𝒐𝒗. 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒐🖤
Porra, como minha mulher… Minha ex. Minha ex-mulher estava linda. O vinho do seu vestido destacava sua cor natural, suas curvas pareciam ainda mais acentuadas hoje. Estava tentando ao máximo não pensar em como seria tirar ele do corpo dela, e nem em como queria que fosse eu do lado dela, segurando sua cintura, recebendo os cochichos no ouvido, ou sendo alvo do sorriso dela.
Bebo outro copo de cerveja, sem tirar os olhos dela em nenhum momento. E sabia que ela tinha percebido isso, com certeza percebeu porque também não parava de me procurar com o olhar.
– Ficar encarando não vai trazer ela de volta… supera, ela está até acompanhada, cara – meu amigo me diz, mas não dou muita bola.
– Não me lembro de ter pedido conselho – respondo rude, soltando o copo na pequena mesa redonda próxima da gente.
Vejo Sn saindo de perto de Matheus, já era ruim o suficiente ver ela próxima de outro, pior ainda quando esse outro era colega de trabalho.
Nesse momento foi o que deixei de ter bom senso, e resolvi escutar o conselho do meu amigo. Metade dele, talvez, realmente não adiantaria ficar só olhando ela e não fazer nada.
🍒𝑷𝒐𝒗. 𝑺𝒏🍒
O banheiro não era bem o local ideal para acalmar meus pensamentos, mas resolvia por hora. Bufo, olhando meu reflexo no espelho.
– Para de encarar ele, ok? – minha voz se mistura ao som abafado da música – você está acompanhada, para de olhar seu marido… droga, seu ex marido… ex.
Rio desiludida com minha própria conversa, como posso me levar a sério se ainda rateio em chamar ele de ex? Quando me pego pensando no cheiro dele e nas mãos dele me segurando daquele jeito…
– Se controla, Sn! – me repreendo, sentindo um leve arrepio pelas lembranças que me vêm à mente.
Decido que ficar sozinha também não estava ajudando, giro a maçaneta pronta para voltar à companhia do meu… atual namorado? Nem sei exatamente o que eu e o Cunha somos.
Antes que saia, sou surpreendida por ele fechando meu caminho, me empurrando suavemente para dentro do banheiro.
– Danilo? Que droga é essa? – questiono confusa, afastando suas mãos da minha cintura.
– Calma – diz tranquilo, e sua tranquilidade me irrita – só quero conversar.
– Conversar o quê? E me empurrando para dentro do banheiro? – solto a respiração pelo nariz, cruzando os braços – está maluco?
– Conversar sobre a gente – se aproxima, mas me afasto levemente.
– Sei bem o que essas suas conversas significam – ele sorri com o canto da boca.
– Você nunca reclama das nossas conversas – sua mão segura novamente minha cintura, se aproximando mais.
– Estou acompanhada… você sabe disso – gostaria de ter soado mais firme no que digo.
– Parece que está me perguntando – seu polegar desenha círculos pelo tecido do vestido – não tem certeza se está acompanhada, princesa?
Suspiro, fecho os olhos pensando que se não olhar para ele vai ser mais fácil me afastar. Minhas mãos encontram as suas, segurando-as levemente e quando penso que vou empurrar seu toque, elas se movem quase sozinha subindo por seu braço.
– Danilo – sussurro esperando que soe repreensivo.
Seu hálito quente toca meu rosto, sua mão segura meu pescoço delicadamente.
– Não quer que eu me afaste, quer?
– Não.
– Sabia – ele me dá um beijo curto – passou a noite toda me olhando.
Encosto minha testa na dele, minhas unhas se cravaram suavemente em sua pele. Ele solta risada baixa, a que sempre vinha quando conseguia chamar minha atenção.
Seus lábios encontram o meu, explorando devagar caminhos que já conhecia bem. O ritmo era lento, daquele que me dava vontade demais e me deixava derretida em seus braços. Suas mãos descem para minha bunda apertando forte, ele vai se afastando aos poucos, mordiscando meu lábio.
– Por que parou? – resmungo, abrindo os olhos.
– Não parei – seu nariz roça a pele do meu pescoço calmamente – mas vamos continuar isso em um quarto.
– Danilo – murmuro.
– Você vai sair desse banheiro e dispensar aquele cara – sua voz rouca preenchendo meu ouvido.
Meu cérebro simplesmente concorda, como um cachorrinho obediente. Bufo, sabendo que não conseguiria resistir. Não depois desse beijo.
– Não quero – minha cabeça faz sinal positivo, contrariando o que digo.
Ele ri, selando mais um de seus beijos em meus lábios antes de se afastar, me dando passagem. Passo por ele sem dizer mais nada, arrumo meu vestido enquanto caminho pelo corredor.
Meu celular vibra na bolsa, pego instantaneamente procurando uma distração para minha mente e para escolha que ia fazer.
As mensagens brilham na barra de notificação.
Matheus: está tudo bem? Tá demorando.
Danilo: Não demora.
Olho para as notificações por alguns segundos, meu dedo pairando no ar indeciso de qual mensagem abrir. No último segundo, abro justamente a mensagem de quem deveria ignorar. Mas, mais uma vez, escolho cair na tentação em vez de fugir dela.
daddy kink/fauxcest with older!dean in response to this ask
cw: 2.1k word count, reader calls dean [dad]dy, actually kind of cute that might be it
a/n - I am so sorry this developed a mind of it's own quicker than I could stop it and it not as perverted as I wanted!! I'm sorry I've let my little freaklings down with some soft daddy dean
“C’mon, baby. You gotta get some sleep. Love island does not count as rest.”
You pouted, keeping your eyes fixed on the tv. “But I’m so comfy,” you said in a voice that came out way whinier than you meant. “And there’s only 30 minutes left.”
“30 minutes that will still be there in the morning.”
You opened your mouth to protest that you could see spoilers, but he was already onto you.
“And I don’t want to hear that sorry excuse that it could get spoiled. Don’t wanna see you on your phone ‘till morning either.”
Leaving no room for argument, he clicked off the tv and confiscated your phone.
“Bed. Now.”
“You’re not my dad,” you grumbled, rolling off the couch knowing you’d been beat.
“Is that just what you call me when my cock’s in you then, sweetheart? The second I try to take care of you, do some good, I’m demoted to the creepy older boyfriend?”
You leaned into his body and let him lead you to the bedroom, deciding that you were suddenly much too tired for this conversation.
“Could have a real good thing here, honey,” he said softly, not wanting to push you. “Just gotta relax and let me take care of you.”
“You already take care of me more than you take care of yourself. I’m fine, Dean. Promise.”
“Fine doesn’t mean good, sweetheart. Fine means you’re keeping your head above water. Want you to be able to focus on other things besides keeping yourself healthy enough to get through the day.”
“I just feel bad,” you said while he guided you to sit on the foot of the bed. “You’re so busy and important and the last thing I want to be is another item on the to-do list. You know, make sure your mess of a girlfriend brushes her teeth right under save the world from Lucifer.”
Dean barked out a laugh. “Baby. How can you think you’re a burden? You’re the only thing that makes any of what I do feel important.”
“What about Sam ?” You pushed. “Don’t act like I’m the only one you have to worry about.”
“Please. Sammy stopped listening to me after he turned fifteen.”
"I don't know. Just..." you trailed off, feeling your heart start bumping against your ribs and not exactly knowing how you were going to finish that sentence.
"Hey. We're not making any decisions right now, so I'm gonna need you to take a big breath, okay? We're just talking about something that I think could help both of us out."
Your eyes flicked back up to his. "This would help you?"
"Fuck, sweetheart. Thought it was more obvious," he said through a forced laugh, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. "Thought it was crystal fuckin' clear how I feel about you."
"I know you love me, dean," you replied, wanting to assure him that all he does doesn't go unnoticed.
"Babe. Not what I'm talking about. You're really gonna make he say it, huh?"
"Say what?" You looked up at him with wide eyes, your curiosity written all over your face.
"That, in a good way, when I'm takin' care of you it reminds me of takin' care of sammy when we were kids. I just need to know you're being taken care of in every sense, even the ones that normally don't go together. You just... flip a switch in my brain that makes me want to be more than your boyfriend." Noting your blank face, he kept barreling on. "But if any of that makes you uncomfortable just forget it, okay? Don't want you to feel like I'm takin' advantage of you or asking anything of you because I'm not. Promise you I'm not."
Like the pins in a lock sliding into place, you finally understood.
"Dean-" you started.
At this point absolutely desperate to make you understand, he kept going on. "I would've stopped absolutely everything if you didn't seem to like it, or didn't respond to it, but everything you did was way too perfect for me to not keep pushing. All bratty until I get you some food, pouty until I put you down for a nap, sweet as pie after you cum for me. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but it just made me go fuckin' crazy.
"Dean!" you interrupted, stopping his spiral. "It's okay. Don't apologize. You're... right. I guess I never realized that that is how I felt about you looking out for me. Always chalked it up to being appreciative," you said with a nervous giggle.
Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the look on his face stole your breath away.
His lids were heavy with admiration, and he reached out to hold your jaw gently between his fingers, not giving you the option to look away from his gaze.
"Goddamn are you a sweet little thing. You loved bein' daddy's girl and didn't even know it."
While the nod you gave him was almost imperceptible, the look in your eyes spoke for you. Your pupils almost completely engulfed your irises, and they carried the blankness that is only earned from the feeling of complete and utter safety. You'd felt this sinking, warm feeling before, but always just shook it off and chalked it up to dean's skill, not realizing that it's something more.
"There she is," he murmured. "That head of yours is finally nice and quiet."
He helped you lay down on the bed, his fingers weaving with yours to hold them above your head. A grind of his hips against your clothed mound pulled a tiny, pathetic sound from your lips that he licked up with a kiss.
"You don't even understand what you do to me, sweetheart. How you make me feel. A good man, a good dad, doesn't think about doing the things I want to do to you." His breath was hot in your ear, and the strain in his voice told you how wrecked he is.
"Daddy," you whispered when he ground down, testing the word out. You'd let it slip a couple times when he was fucking you real good, but you'd never said it in a way that actually means something.
Dean's hands tightened around yours, obviously affected by his new honorific.
"Dad?" you rasped again, pushing this as far as he would let you.
Dean's loud groan and the way his cock jumped told you everything you need to know. In what he made look like a herculean effort he peeled his body from yours, kneeling on the ground at the foot of the bed. His hands gripped the elastic waistband of your pants, tugging them down and off with absolutely no respect for the garment.
"Jesus, you're fucking soaked," he said, his voice sounding pained. "Just gotta taste you before I give you what you need. Gotta taste my perfect little girl."
His tongue lapped at the absolute mess of your cunt, getting you close to clean before locking his mouth around your pearl. He sucked at you like he was starving, his tongue swirling and flicking you into an absolute frenzy.
"Dad," you whined, the focused stimulation making your legs shake and your cunt clench around nothing. "Can I- mhmm - please have your fingers."
He fed your cunt the tip of his middle finger without breaking the seal his mouth, but you could feel the edges of his lips curl up in a smile. He hummed in satisfaction around your clit, the vibration shooting warmth all throughout your body. The whole encounter felt so intimate, so dean, that you couldn't believe you were trying something new. Not a new action, because he practically lived between your legs, but a different context that carried a new weight of importance to each action.
The pad of his finger slid along your front wall, catching on each and every sensitive ridge. He touched you with utmost care, his strokes gentle and firm and designed to turn you into a pile of mush for him. When the tip of his finger reached your gummy spot deep inside you bucked, only herded back into line by the strong weight of his arm that he banded along your hips. He prodded at you insistently, making your tummy clench up and your clit throb through his ministrations.
You gasped and sputtered, your little whines urging him on.
"Cum for your dad, honey," he mumbled against your skin, moaning into your heat when he felt you starting to break apart. The pleasure shattered through your body, and your cunt clamped around his fingers while he gently fucked and licked you through it.
"Daddy's perfect fuckin' girl," he murmured, his voice reverent against your skin even as you were twitching from the aftershocks. "Swear to god you get more beautiful every time you cum."
He kissed and nipped along your thighs, shucking his shirt and stepping out of his jeans as he worked his way up your body. The warmth of his naked skin against yours only succeeded in making you clingy again, and you bound your arms and legs around his body to keep him close.
"I know, baby," he murmured, his tone carrying nothing except softness. "Just a little needy for your daddy, huh?"
You nodded against his skin, not trusting your voice with how small you felt. His tip notched against your entrance while you mouthed along his neck, trying to taste as much of the salty skin as you can. He slid in easily enough for you to close your eyes in embarrassment, not feeling ready to confront the realization of how much you actually like this.
"Jesus," he groaned, gently fucking your slick back into you. "Only get this hot and wet for your dad, huh? You've never been like this and called me by my fucking name."
" 'm sorry," you whined, your teeth starting to chatter with the way you felt your body blooming for him.
"Shhhh, baby." His hand swiped the sweaty hair off your face before cupping your jaw to ease the tic. "Just relax for me. Shouldn't have been teasing you when you're like this; just got a little too cute for me to resist."
"Okay," you sniffled, your jaw still trying to vibrate in his grasp and your hips grinding up to meet his in a way that made your brain feel totally scrambled.
Dean fed you the thumb of the hand resting on your jaw, groaning when he saw how readily you accepted it. You felt your eyes fluttering closed, your spasms finally able to relax with something else to focus on.
"That's it. Don't gotta say anything, okay? Just let dad take care of you."
His hips kept meeting yours at a relentless pace, the squelching and slapping of your bodies taken to an obscene level. He popped his thumb out of your mouth and you whined before he shushed you and hushed you up by moving his thumb to your clit. Your eyes flew open in surprise, the doe-like expression softening his attentive face.
"Yeah, that feels good, huh. Just needed a little of daddy's attention to cum. That's okay. Can't be a big girl all the time, right?"
You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, your wide eyes locked on his while you felt the bundle of pleasure in your belly tighten.
"I can feel your cunt gettin' needy, honey. You gonna let dad fill you up?"
You nodded desperately, your mind spinning out at the idea of getting pumped full. "Please," you agreed in a small voice, needing him to know how much you want it.
"Jesus, aren't you just daddy's perfect fuckin' girl."
All you could give him was a squeak in warning before you felt yourself clench around him wildly, your face crunching up in pleasure while warmth sparked all through your body. Dean was only a few pumps behind, burying his face in your neck with a groan as he painted you full.
He stayed inside of you for a few moments, not wanting to break the spell any sooner than he had to.
"Daddy?" you whispered, your voice still shaky but completely unwilling to feel sticky for a moment longer. "Can we take a bath?"
A smile pulled across his face, his eyes alight with a mix of adoration and relief.
"Of course, angel," he replied, already scooping you up in his arms. "How could I say no when you ask me like that?"
a/n - and then they lived happily ever after in their dd/lg dynamic until the end of time! yay!
HII . i had a crazy Dean thought .. I was watching supernatural again and my brain went here.
Dean with a soft spoken, late bloomer! reader who’s a virgin when they meet, and after a pretty slowed down first time , it’s like he’s unlocked this repressed part of her and she is very quietly and sweetly running a long list of freaky things to try by him. and he soon realizes that shes open to try all kinds of kinks and has an extensive smut/ 🌽 knowledge. and he’s like. did i create a monster.
but also he’s so condescending about her enjoying fucked up stuff the whole time which just turns her on more. maybe he even nudges her into even more ‘out there’ stuff.
...♱... DEAN WINCHESTER ...♱...
cw: anal fingering (dean puts a thumb in it), 69ing, dean is on a little humiliation kick in this, edging, there is talk of nasty things (plugs, pet play) but nothing too freaky actually occurs, choking, thumb sucking, squirting, fucks her so good so good that she almost says i love you, 5.5k words
(edit: pasted part two in here so this is the whole fic)
The thought of dean taking your virginity, being sweet as fucking pie with how slow he takes it, how gentle he fucks you, not wanting to chance you having a less than perfect first time. And while you appreciate it, you really do, losing your virginity just felt like a checkbox on your to-do list. Once it was done with, and you realized that you are with someone even more gifted than you thought, the floodgates fucking open. He's still under the impression that you're timid, even a little afraid of your sexuality when the morning after your first time you ask him to put a thumb in it. And you ask him so sweetly, so randomly, with your voice sounding like the tinkling of fucking bells that he can't even believe what he's hearing.
"Sweetheart," he said through a laugh, his eyes almost seeming blank with shock. "We don't need to rush anything. We have all the time in the world to experiment."
"But I want it," you whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I just want to try next time. Just wanted to tell you now before I get shy again."
His hand scrubbed along his face. "Before you get shy again. Jesus christ. You sure that you were a virgin before last night?"
"Yeah. You're the only one I've done anything with."
"And the morning after you're ready to try butt stuff." He said it so deadpan that you felt your cheeks heating, but you nodded anyway.
You rolled on top of him, your lips slotting right against his ear so you wouldn't have to look at him for your next reveal. "I've, um. I've tried it," you squeaked out, desperately trying to squirrel away again when he grabbed you by the shoulders to hold you face to face.
"Nuh-uh. Sit the fuck up when you tell me this." There was not an ounce of judgement in his tone, just wonder. The look on his face was incredulous, and with you forced to sit upright on his stomach you thought your face was about to catch fire.
"Just tried it a little with myself. It's not, you know, a big deal."
His hands started stroking your thighs, in a way that was obviously trying to soothe you.
"You are... fuck." He looked up at you with his face filled with adoration, and his acceptance kept you from bolting right then and there. "Did you use your fingers?" He asked, his voice dropping to a gravely tone.
"...Sometimes?"
A punched-out groan left him. "Are you trying to tell me that you've stuffed your ass full of a plug while you still had a virgin pussy?"
You nodded, aching to hide back in your safe spot on his neck.
"Jesus. How the hell does that happen."
"I dunno," you responded shyly. "Just got curious and tired of waiting, I guess."
"And you learned this where?"
"The internet?" You responded, your voice getting impossibly small, and almost completely indecipherable when you trailed off. "Just reading and porn, mostly."
His hands left your thighs to drag down his face, and he almost looked like he was in pain.
"Sweetheart. Unless you're ready for this now don't look behind you."
Reflexively, you twisted around to see his cock, now leaking against his stomach and an angry red.
"If you need a second, some alone time," he said gently, his eyes searching your face for a single speck of agreement, "I am happy to run you a bath and take a cold shower, or we can go through a drive-thru with a towel on my lap. I wasn't expecting to get hard again like a fucking teenager."
In lieu of words, you gave him a shy smile before flipped yourself around to face his cock, dipping your head to lick up the beads of precum. Dean groaned, the sound low and loud and hot enough to keep you from getting self-conscious about the way your pussy was now in his face.
"The porn," he said absently, the observation made in a voice that sounded like he was barely hanging onto reality. "Of course you know how to 69."
Before you could register his words he hauled you back to his face, his vice grip on your hips keeping you planted on his face despite your squirming. His broad tongue found your clit and licked back far enough to make you squirm in discomfort, the sensation of his warm mouth so intimate that you tried to pull away.
"If you're uncomfortable I'll stop," he muttered into your skin, "but if you're just bein' shy you gotta buck up and let me taste you."
His words helped you settle, assured you that he is where he wants to be, but his mouth felt completely different licking at your back entrance than it did wrapped around your clit. The tip of his tongue circled your puckered hole, only lightly pressing before moving back to your pussy. The predictable motions soothed you into relaxing, finally able to dip back down to take his cock in your mouth. Dean groaned against your folds, gently canting his hips into your mouth.
"Already takin' me to the back of your little virgin throat. Fuck." His low voice was hot against your skin, and the gentle vibrations made you want to roll your hips greedily against his mouth.
You couldn't stop humming in pleasure around his cock, and you wanted to take him as deep as possible; impress him and show him you're ready for more. You tried to stay focused on him, get a good rhythm going, but his thumb was creeping too close to your ass to ignore. He started rubbing circles around the soft skin, applying pressure to the entrance without forcing his way inside. Between the tease of his thumb and the warmth of his tongue you felt hot all over. Your back involuntarily arched from the way your muscles were tightening, and the feeling of anticipation made the weight of his cock in your mouth feel like more of an intrusion than a comfort. Your forehead found it's place resting on the junction of his hip, and your tongue darted out to mouth at his sac.
"Just tell me to stop," he murmured before starting the slow sink of his thumb. Almost instantly your body started convulsing in pleasure, the gentle stretch and pressure in conjunction with his tongue forcing a high whine from your throat while your release tore through you; if you weren't too overwhelmed to think you would be embarrassed.
"Jesus fucking christ." Dean's voice was absolutely wrecked, his tongue torn between enunciating and helping you ride out your orgasm.
"Sweetheart," he started, still finishing his reverent clean-up job on your pussy with his thumb decidedly locked inside of you. "What the fuck was that."
You shrugged your shoulders, still feeling mute after he wrung that type of pleasure out of you
"Does that normally happen?" His voice was softer now seeming to sense that you didn't have an explanation. "You can just nod for me if you're always that sensitive there."
You nodded slowly, feeling blessed that you were turned away from him so he couldn't see the way your cheeks heated.
"Got a cute little whore on my hands, huh?" The hand that wasn't caught inside of you possessively squeezed your hip, and he placed a chaste kiss against your clit. "Gonna answer me?"
"Yes," you breathed, watching his cock turn an angry shade of red.
"What was that sweetheart? You obviously don't want me to go easy, so if I were you I'd speak up."
"I'm your cute little whore." The words felt like sandpaper for how easy they slipped out, and even though you'd heard the words a hundred times, read them even more, they felt dirty and foreign coming from your own mouth.
"Yeah you fuckin' are. Now get to work; if a thumb stretchin' your ass makes you cum that quick you I think you can handle my cock in your mouth."
"Gonna share what else you have rattlin' around that head of yours?"
You nuzzled deeper into his neck, heat rushing to your face at just the mention of a conversation.
"Um," you squeaked, not knowing where an appropriate place to start is. "Yes?"
He smiled when he looked down at you, and the softness in his gaze only made you feel more out of place. "You gonna tell me or..."
You burrowed impossibly further into his neck with the vain hope he would forget all about this conversation.
"Do I have to wring it out of you? Do nasty things to you and see what gets a reaction?"
His words were said teasingly, but the way the implication of his words made you feel was anything but.
"Oh I do," he said, taking the catch in your breath as affirmation. "You were so brave when you told me you wanted my thumb, baby. Where'd my brave girl go?"
"I'm just nervous," you whispered. "I don't want to get something wrong or make you think I'm gross.
"Honey, if you're gross then I'm fucking depraved. Promise you won't scare me away. Maybe you want to start with what you've already tried yourself? Then you know all about it," he finished with a cheeky wink, obviously meant to put you at ease.
"Okaaayyyy," you started, the words feeling stuck in your throat. Dean's hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, a silent way of saying I'm here. You felt like you were stuttering before you even started speaking, and you couldn't look him in the eye. "I, um, sometimes edge myself or deny myself, or make myself cum until my body literally can't anymore." You gulped in a breath of air, wondering if he'd believe that's all you had to say.
"Keep going." You more felt his voice than heard it, and even though it was soft the demand was clear.
"I like to wear a plug in public, if I'm grocery shopping or something, or on road trips..." you trailed off, looking up to see that dean had his fist in his mouth, biting down like he's in pain. "Dean?" you whispered, unsure what to make of his reaction.
He groaned around his fist, staying still for a beat before unclenching his jaw. "Sorry, sweetheart. Just the image of you doin' that to yourself, the thoughts you're havin' to want to do that, it's makin' me a little crazy."
Your cheeks heated, the knowledge that he was thinking about it more intimate than you anticipated. And the way he was looking at you... it made your whole body feel hot--sensitive.
"You understand that this is the hottest thing I've heard ever, right? My girl who was a full fucking virgin not two days ago is telling me about everything she got up to while she was waiting around for me to find her."
A smile pulled at the corner of your lips, the warm feeling of acceptance blooming in your belly. "Yeah?"
"Fuck yeah," he said, repositioning so his body was hovering over yours. "And if that's what you got up to alone, you have no fucking idea what we're about to get up to together." He lowered his head to kiss you, the gentle suction on your lips only making you want more. He licked into your mouth and ground his hips down, pressing his length into the plush skin of your thighs. "About to make you so cockdrunk you can't even remember to be embarrassed, okay?"
"Okay," you giggled nervously, the heat of his breath and matter-of-fact tone pushing any argument out of your mind. Dean's hand found the sliver of skin between your tank and shorts, shoving them apart until the bottom of your tits were peeking out and he could see the top of your panties.
"So fuckin' sensitive," he murmured, smirking when all of his featherlight touches made you jump. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his caress and you had half a mind to be embarrassed by how responsive you are, but the look of adoration in his eyes kept your mouth shut. His hand started slipping under the waistband of your shorts, and when his fingers found your slit he cursed.
"Jesus, baby. Talkin' about that got you all worked up, huh? You're fuckin' soaked."
You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, a pathetic sound eking out when he started rubbing you with the pads of his fingers.
"Aww, baby can talk about how greedy her ass is but turns into a little puddle when someone treats her cunny all nice. Real cute." Dean's voice was dripping in condescension like you'd never heard, and the filthy words sounded eerily natural rolling off his tongue.
You were stunned into silence, even your hips feeling too jarred to cant up into his touch like they want to.
"You're nasty little thing sweetheart, but you have no idea what we can get up to." He dipped his head down so his lips were brushing your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps scattering across your body. "Tell me you didn't like hearin' that and I'll make love to you again like your first time, okay? All sweet and gentle, we'll cum together like we're in a fuckin' rom-com. Somethin' tells me you won't, though."
You shook your head, your chest heaving with anticipation. His taunts made you feel out of your depth, but that only made you more curious, eager to learn. "I liked it." Your voice was barely louder than a breath, but you could tell dean heard you from the way he pressed his hips into you."
"Yeah, can you say it for me? Say you really, really want to be my little slut?"
"I really, really, want to be your little slut." The words came out easier than you expected them to, and seeking a reward you ground your hips down against his palm.
"Good girl. So eager to please." He applied more pressure like you wanted, but his hand was still just cupped around you without giving any real stimulation. "Open up."
Obediently you parted your lips, your eyes wide and innocent the way they looked up at him. Dean pursed his lips, a sucking noise coming from his mouth before he spit into your mouth. You heard it before you felt it, but once your brain had registered what happened a high, embarrassing whine tore from you. You held it in your mouth for a moment before swallowing, so pleased that you loved it exactly as much as you thought you would.
"Liked that, huh?"
You vigorously nodded, opening your mouth again to show him it was all gone.
"You're a little freak, aren't you, honey. Bet you'd let me do just about anything."
Mercifully, he dipped his fingers inside your cunt. The sensation of being filled under someone else's attention still felt completely foreign, and the drag and press of his fingers against your walls was enough to make your body completely slack.
"There you go. Finally just takin' it like good little girls are meant to."
His fingers started to make an obscene squelching noise, and you could feel your wetness dripping down your backside. He added his thumb to the mix, rubbing at your clit in a way that made you arch off the bed. As he brought you closer your breath started coming out in desperate little huffs, the rhythmic pumping of his hand shooting tingles through your limbs. You could feel your orgasm within reach, the heat getting closer and closer before he tore his hand away. Your eyes that had been gently lidded flew open in surprise, and you looked at him with what you hoped was an expression he would take pity on.
"Thought it was gonna be that easy?" Dean looked genuinely amused, seemingly comfortable to wait on you even with his raging hard-on. "Gonna tell me everything you want to try. When I feel like you've been honest I'll let you finish."
"What?" you asked dumbly, not quite sure how you had found yourself in this situation.
"You fuckin' heard me." He punctuated his statement with a light slap to your pussy, not enough to hurt but enough to make you jump. "If you don't want to do it then I guess you just can't cum right now." He slipped his fingers back inside of you, teasingly pumping in a way that felt too good for you to think clearly but not enough to finish. And then, leaning down enough to nibble at your ear, "better get started."
"With you? Or in general?" You feebly tried to clarity, the confusion making your heart race and snapping you out of the sleepy, relaxed state you had been in a few moments before.
"It's not complicated, sweetheart. Even a dumb little thing like you can handle this. Just gotta stop pretendin' you're so shy."
"But I am shy," you pouted, hoping he might take enough pity on you to let you out of this.
"Then we're gonna be here a while."
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, wondering if the unease in your belly was a sign you were in over your head.
"Um," you started, head suddenly blank of every thought you've had ever. "I want you to spank me." You were pretty pleased that you'd thought of that under such duress, and almost felt like you pulled one over on him because it is so ambiguous.
"Try a little harder, sweetheart. The dumber you act the more I gotta tease it out of you. Tell me what you want to be called while I spank that ass red and we'll move on."
Your face burned impossibly hotter, and you bit the inside of your mouth in a desperate prayer for distraction. "I think I want you to call me naughty." When you started speaking his thumb found your clit again, a clear reward for sharing with him.
"Yeah? Want me to remind you that even sweet little things need to be put in their place?"
"Yes please," you responded quietly, whimpering when the pressure of his thumb tapered off.
"Tell me what else and I'll keep touching you how you need."
"I want you to tie me up so I can't move at all while," you swallowed, the humiliating part coming next, "you hurt me and tease me about how much I like it."
Dean groaned into your neck, his thumb working you hard and fast in wanton approval. "Of course you do. Probably cum as quick when you're cryin' as when your ass is gettin' stretched."
"Yeah, I do," you agreed in a small voice, noticing that he kept rubbing as long as you stayed talking. "Also when I can't breathe." You felt yourself babbling now, thinking of absolutely anything to say to keep his attention where you want it. "Think I'd cum really fast if you put your hand around my throat."
"And how the fuck do you know that, baby. D'you put one hand over your nose while the other rubs at this needy little pussy?" To prove his statement he dug his fingers in deep, a humiliating wet sound echoing through the room when he slipped them out again.
"I cover my mouth and pinch my nose," you confessed, your hips bucking into his hand in earnest. "I like it when I feel all dizzy."
"That right? Knew you were needy enough to spill but fuck you got some loose lips, baby. Admitting that like it's not a fucked-up thing to do to yourself."
" 'm sorry," you gasped, too caught up in the tightness of your stomach to think of a better reply.
"Yeah? You can apologize for bein' such a gross little thing by telling me what else you want."
"That's all," you said quietly, your stomach dropping when he took his fingers off of you. You could taste the lie on your tongue, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself again. You only wanted to be as icky as he wanted you; you didn't think you could handle him rejecting you for something as stupid as your fantasies.
"That's all, huh?"
You nodded, your gut coiled tight with a mixture of anxiety and need.
"Nasty little freak like you? I know you're still holdin' back on me. I'll believe you've been honest when you tell me you wanna be locked in a kennel with nothing to do but ride a dildo and drink water like a dog."
Your body short-circuited, your mind pathetically trying to understand what he's saying. You already felt strung out from the way he was keeping on on edge, but the way you clenched around his fingers told you that you hadn't imagined it.
"Your pussy sure wants that, baby. Even if your mind doesn't know it yet. You got this cute little cunt all trained up to crave the worst treatment she can find."
"Sorry," you whimpered, your brain too fried to think of a better response. " 'm sorry," you repeated, your eyes feeling glassy with the sensitive state you were in.
Sensing your shift, dean gave you back his fingers, rubbing you through the tough emotions that coursed through you instead of teasing.
"Shhh, baby. Don't have to apologize, you did so well for me. Such a brave girl, tellin' daddy exactly what she likes."
Your eyes flicked back up to him, wide and wet with trust, the honorific barely registering as something new, just something that is.
"Thank you, daddy." The words were barely as loud as a breath, but the catch in Dean's throat and the way his fingers started moving faster told you he heard you.
"Look at how sweet you are," he said, the forearm that was propping him up maneuvering to lovingly swipe at your face. "Completely tamed the second you can get someone to treat you how you need." You felt the outline of his cock hard against your hip, and you were feverish at the mere idea of it stretching you out again. "Just relax f'me. Gonna start checking boxes as soon as you cum and calm down, okay, honey?"
You nodded, the only word really registering the one that told you this tightrope of neediness and ecstacy was almost over.
"I'm gonna - mhm."
"What're you gonna do, princess?" Dean taunted, his mean streak back now that your meltdown had been avoided.
"I think I'm gonna cum," you bit out, the rubber band ready to snap if he would only give you just a little more.
"Yeah? Who do you think is gonna make you do that."
"My daddy," you said with a whine, knowing that's the answer he wanted. You felt suddenly shy despite him being three fingers deep with his cock hot against your thigh.
"Cum for him then."
Finally Dean gave you the pressure you needed, rolling his thumb around your sensitive bud while you clamped and fluttered around his fingers. Pleasure left your body in little moans and pants, and Dean didn't take his eyes off of your face for a second. "There you go. Good fuckin' girl, cumming around daddy's fingers like the needy little thing she is."
You nodded blindly, head bobbing in agreement with whatever poured out of his mouth until he let you land, only a dull ache in your clit and feeling of weakness through your body as a reminder of what he put you through. Your eyes slowly blinked open, feeling like you were waking up from a week-long nap.
"Good morning, princess," Dean teased, picking up on your disorientation. He dipped down for a kiss, the pressure light but no less reverent. "How do you feel?"
"Good," you replied, the word sounding much too simple and loud in your afterglow. "Safe," you added on, your tone softer, more real.
"Was worried for a minute that I pushed too hard. Don't wanna scare you away before we even start."
You shook your head immediately, not letting the thought sink any deeper in his mind. "You didn't. I liked it... a lot."
"Yeah?" His tone got deeper, dirtier, and it made you acutely aware that he was only making sure you took a pause, and was by no means through with you. "Like it when I treat you like a little plaything? Like you're mine to taunt, and tease, and take advantage of?" With each word he ground into you harder, and you faintly wondered how he wasn't busting out of his boxers.
"Mhmm." Squeezing out real words felt impossible when he was slipping his boxers down and you could feel him skin-to-skin. He was weeping at the tip from being neglected for so long, and your mouth watered in jealousy for not being able to feel him push the length between your lips.
"Want some of this, baby? You're lookin' at it like you're hungry."
"Please," came out of your mouth fast enough to make you embarrassed, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret it, and you shamefully realized that you liked the feeling of smallness and unease resting in your belly.
"Since you asked so nicely." His voice was mocking, but the catch at the end told you that he was more affected than he let on. He let the head of his cock rest on your clit, not moving or tugging or giving you anything while his thumb, which he had so generously swiped through his pre, sank between your lips. If you were being honest, you were fucking delighted. You hollowed out your cheeks, swirling the pad of the digit with your tongue, savoring every molecule that he had so graciously put in your mouth. "Goddamn," he rumbled, his voice low and wrecked and impressed. "If you weren't practicin' takin' it up the ass I wouldn't believe you taught that to yourself."
The way he spoke so candidly made you equally excited and uneasy, and the glint in his eye gave him a different energy that almost made him unrecognizable.
"Gonna ask me to fuck you now?"
You nodded, waiting for him to take his thumb out of your mouth so you could respond. You even knew the answer to this one.
"Well? I'm waiting."
You knit your brows, the confusion written all over your face.
"Go on. Didn't let my thumb stop you last time."
The accusation made you light headed, and with the way the pad of his thumb pressed on the back of your tongue you had no idea how you were going to speak. You opened your mouth, the onset of the word 'please' stuck in the back of your throat with his finger. Your muscle flexed, trying to shape the sound into something decent, but all that you could manage was an unintelligible noise. You looked him in the eye, sure you were doing something wrong, but the lust you found shook away any worry of that. The rest of the words came out a garbled mess, but dean seemed to understand just fine.
"Good fuckin' girl. Askin' her for daddy to stretch her out so nice."
He slipped his thumb out of your mouth, smearing the pool of saliva across your chin. He guided his cock in your entrance, the stretch making your eyes roll back. As soon as he was notched inside of you his hand came up to rest on your neck, not squeezing but heavy enough to remind you that he has all of the control. Dean gently rolled his hips inside of you, giving you the exact right mixture of care and pleasure. He worked his length in, not pausing until he could grind his hips flush against yours.
"There you go. Takin' me like I've already broke you in. You like bein' all full of cock, huh?" He was deep enough to take your breath away, not giving you the reprieve of friction and instead making you feel every single inch of him.
"Yes," you gasped, futilely trying to roll your hips under the weight of his body.
"Yes...?"
"Yes, daddy," you rushed out, desperate to feel him against your sweet spots instead of what felt like your lungs.
"What a smart girl I've got," he praised, rewarding you with the slide of his cock. After that taking him felt easy, and you were able to melt against him, only feeling the pleasure. With each stroke a little gasp broke free, and you felt small in a way you never have. Not just physically, despite the way his huge body dwarfed yours, but because you were completely taken care of by someone who would consume every tiny part of you that slipped free if you let him.
Almost as if he could read your mind (or maybe just the blissed-out look on your face) you felt the weight of his hand on your neck become more prominent, complimenting the way that his cock felt almost too good to take. He shushed you while he increased the pressure, pressing down until you could feel your face run hot and your breaths sounded more like pathetic gasps. You wheezed, looking up at him with wonder.
"Your pussy's wet as shit, baby," he said, his voice equally mocking and strained. "The harder I press," he squeezed his hand around your throat tighter, enough to cut off your oxygen for real, "the needier she gets. Leaking, squeezing me, sayin' 'thank you' when you can't."
All you could get out in agreement was a pathetic little gag. When his grip eased up you sucked in air, your airway still slightly obstructed but more of a reminder than actual impairment.
"Yeah, there you go," he soothed, his cock working magic inside of you. He was fucking you so good it felt like a dream, and the only anchor you had was his massive hand resting on your throat. He was hitting you everywhere you needed him most, and it was working your cunt into a frenzy. You felt yourself dripping and clenching around him, your stomach feeling tight with a pleasure you'd never felt before. Your clit was absolutely aching, but the torrent you were feeling was racing past that and into a place much deeper.
"Dean," you said, your voice absolutely wrecked. "Feels too good." The words tumbled out of your mouth without approval, but that didn't make them any less true.
"Just gotta take it, sweetheart. Relax and let it happen."
He kept the steady pace that made you feel feverish, but you could tell from the way that his jaw hung slack and his strokes got shallower that he was affected.
"I'm gonna-." You interrupted yourself with a moan, the intensity sending your brain scrambling.
"I know, honey. Daddy's here." He said the last bit like it was more for himself, the assurance that he was doing absolutely everything he could to take care of you.
"Daddy," you whined, the way the word felt rolling off your tongue the catalyst for your release. All the pent up energy from his strokes snapped, and your whole body felt like a raw nerve while you convulsed around him. The pleasure was deep in your gut, but your oversensitive cunt could feel the way that you were absolutely drenching him. He tried to fuck you through it the same way he had fucked you into it, but as your orgasm started to ebb he began pounding into you like you were a doll.
"Fuckin' soaked me, baby. Such a good girl, relaxin' just like her daddy said, fuck-"
You felt him spill inside of you, his spend hot and deeper than it had any right to be.
"Thank you," you said softly, slowly coming back to earth.
He groaned into your shoulder in response, still shuddering from his release. He stilled inside of you, not giving you an ounce of space until he softened enough for his seed to start leaking out. He untangled himself carefully, almost like he was afraid you would break if he jostled you too much.
"How do you feel?" he asked when he was back to laying at your side, gently smoothing the sweaty hair from your face.
Not feeling up to words you just nodded, a small but honest smile on your face.
"Oh now she's shy again," he teased, nothing but adoration hiding behind the words. "Real convenient."
You shrugged, your smile turning cheeky as you nuzzled back into your place in his chest. His arm banded around you, pulling you closer, and you felt yourself melt.
"My big talker. Finally fucked good enough that she can rest."
Brother/sister fauxcest with Dean *image of Cynthia erivo tapping her head*
Hmmm yes yes
- 🌌
Yum yum yum!!
It starts off slow, dean lumping you in with sam and calling you his siblings, bullying you a little and saying that 'it's just what big brothers do,' and it seems normal, cute even, until his eyes start tracking your lips. Until he asks if you want your big brother to 'kiss it better,' but all he does is suck and lick the blood off of your wound. He's so oblivious he probably doesn't even realize how twisted it is to be calling, thinking of the girl he jerks off to every night as his sister; he just thinks that's the only way you can really be close with someone :(.
When he starts fucking you... mmm that's when he gets nasty. He's calling you sissy, asking if you like what your big brother is doing to you, if his little virgin sister's ready to take some cock... he gets real sick with it. He'd love 'teaching' you shit, some of it fun to play pretend with, some of it fucked-up enough that you actually didn't know about it before. It starts with him 'sneaking' you cigarettes, making you promise not to tell sam and lighting and holding them for you; completely babying you. Then it's booze, telling you to practice in a safe environment, learn your limits with people you trust. After you're each a few drinks deep he's showing you porn, how to touch yourself, how to finger yourself, and how to train your ass to take cock like the women in the videos. All of this is rationalized with the thought that it's better she learns from someone she can trust, someone like her brother. And where he draws the line? Literally nowhere. Like the conniving big brother he is he made up some bullshit about why you have to watch porn on his phone. Whenever you get all worked up you have to come find him, fight through his teasing and purposeful stupidity to tell him that you're horny and need your big brother's help.
"You need help with what, sweetheart?" He'd ask, willing the smirk tugging at his lips to disappear.
"Dean, you know what. Just... help. I need you."
"Can you touch what hurts, princess?"
Your hand slowly slunk down to your mound, your own touch still feeling foreign in comparison to dean's.
"Your pussy? D'you think some special time with your brother would help?"
You nodded, already feeling relieved that he knows exactly what you need.
"Can we... watch that stuff on your phone?" You asked shyly, emboldened with how much he seems to want to help you.
"Uh huh," he said, tugging your hair a little before following you back to your bed. "I'll even let you pick. Know you like stuff a little different than me."
And by a little different you liked videos where girls got a little manhandled with a smile on their face and he likes just about anything with metal or pain or tentacles.
"Seein' what you like is so cute, baby. All you gotta do is ask and that can be you," he murmured, his eyes more focused on the way you furiously worked your pussy than the video. He had learned that sometimes you wanted his help, but more often you just want his company and phone.
"Y'know I like it when you can learn somewhere safe, with your brothers. We'd help you try just about anything."
You were irritated at the way he kept trying to talk to you, but at the mention of sam curiosity won out.
"Sammy would help?"
"Of course, sweet thing. He's your brother, too, huh?"
Faux cest with the Winchesters is top tier but before I start this IS NOT wincest so please just bear with me while I explain I swear its not wincest 😅 so we all know Dean and Sam are closer than average brothers, Dean practically raised Sam and Sam sees Dean in a father figure way some times and Dean -NOT TOWARDS SAM- has a big dad/daddy kink and sometimes because Dean is such a good brother / father figure to Sammy never wanting him to feel lonely or left out so he lets play Sam play with his girl and she calls him big brother and loves playing with him while dad watches over them and makes sure she’s making dad proud and Sammy’s treating her right I hope this makes sense and you see the vision if not I might die of embarrassment 🫣
I love talking about daddy dean and his wards! This is also my contribution to what is hopefully an influx of dry humping fics
It might start off pretty innocent, dean asking sam to watch you while he gets some things done, but when he gets back you have sam painting your nails. He's blowing on each finger to help them dry, driving the tv remote so you don't mess up the wet polish, even feeding you tiny little bites of pizza he cut up for you. Seeing the grin on your face, the mountain of pillows you have behind you while sammy dotes on you, it all leads him to the same conclusion; his girl is spoiled. All you have to do to make sammy listen to you is call him your big brother with those wide eyes, your gaze far too innocent to be believable.
"What's goin' on in here?" Dean asked, brown bag still propped on his bag from his errands. The question wasn't accusatory, but the way your face heated was enough evidence that there is something you'd rather not share.
He waited a beat, fixing his gaze on sammy next. "Nothin'?"
"No just... helping your, um, girl with her nails." He held the bottle up for dean to see, as if that's what he's suspicious about.
"Then why are you two actin' like I walked in on you goin' at it."
You shrugged your shoulders, suddenly feeling embarrassed about how much fun you were having with sam. "Just were having a good time, is all. How were your errands?" You didn't really care what he was up to, you were just hoping to shift the subject matter to something that felt like a less sensitive topic. You had nothing to hide, but dean's body was holding a certain energy that felt unpredictable.
Completely ignoring your question, dean directed one back at sam. "You can touch her, you know."
"What? Dean, I-"
"You can. I've made her real greedy, and I can tell she wants some special time with her brother. Right, baby?"
You blinked at him blankly, your wheels turning to try and decipher if this is some kind of sick game, or if in his own twisted way he's trying to be thoughtful.
"It's okay," he said, softer this time. "I know sammy wants it too."
Your eyes darted to sam, taking in the way he was blushing at the base of his neck and averting his eyes.
"Both gonna be shy then, huh? Need daddy's directions?"
Exactly like dean wanted, you both looked at him earnestly, your eyes begging to be told what to do.
"Climb on top of sammy, huh sweetheart?" You started moving timidly, feeling like a bubble was about to pop. You straddled over his lap, still not touching him while sam's hands were fisted at his sides. His warm eyes held a thinly veiled layer of want, almost like he was afraid to scare you.
"He don't bite." Knowing dean, the words were clearly instructions. Slowly you shifted your weight from your knees to sam's lap, still feeling too shy to let your hands roam like they want to. You gasped when you felt him under you, the bulge in his jeans feeling like it had been there before dean walked in. You gently ground your hips down, the heat of him against your panties sending a surge through your body.
"Go on," Dean taunted, making himself comfortable in a chair and cracking a beer. "Show your big brother what daddy taught you."
You started rolling your hips, riding him how dean taught you to. Each drag only felt like a bigger joke; you were too far gone to stop, but you kept getting closer to the point of no return.
"How's she feel sammy?"
"So good," he breathed, his gaze locked on where your bodies met. Taking dean's words as an invitation, his huge hands reached up to splay on your hips, adding more weight to each swath of friction.
"Should probably take her shirt off," dean interjected, taking a swig of his beer like he was watching a football game.
Sam hurriedly obliged, his hands scraping up your sides to push it over your head before unclasping your bra. One hand banded back around your lower back to guide the little humps you were doing on his length and the other started kneading your breast. Your foreheads met, mouths hanging open only an inch apart until sam captured your lips in a kiss. It was tender yet hungry, and the when his tongue met yours you moaned.
"Mmm. Like fuckin' puppies, huh sammy? Hope you can feel how needy she is 'cause I can damn sure see it."
Hearing dean's voice snapped you out of your haze. Even though it was just dean, the feeling of being watched settled over you like a weight, and you looked over your shoulder at him shyly.
"Havin' fun, sweetheart?" His voice was syrupy with condescension, but it only made you grind against sam harder.
"Yes, daddy," you replied, a tiny giggle escaping you when you felt sam's hips harshly buck up.
"Shit, I'm sorry," sam breathed, his face heating while he stilled his hips and loosened the bruising grip he had on your hip and chest.
"Don't be shy, sammy. You don't have to pretend that you don't like it."
Sam nodded, hiding by pressing kisses against your neck and resuming the way he slid your hips against his.
You let out a sigh of pleasure at the way his jeans were scraping against your cunt, and the trail of heat his mouth was leaving on your neck was borderline euphoric. He sucked gently enough to not leave a mark, but you could hear all of his breaths and hidden moans and the sound of his lips on your skin right against your ear.
"Feels good, huh, baby? What to you say to your big brother?"
I don’t know if you’ve written this yet but I would actually DIE if you wrote Dean an Sam teaching their sissy about porn and how to properly touch herself 🫣
♱ ... DEAN + SAM WINCHESTER ... ♱
18+ MDNI
cw: fauxcest, porn (very vague), three pronged toy, sam and dean being good big brothers and talking you through it, edging
I've danced around it with dean a bit in this blurb but nowhere near given it the attention it deserves. Idrk what this became I started writing this more normal but then an idea came to me and I simply couldn't put it to bed. I would totally redo this ask if it's not scratching the itch
bigbroverse tag
Sometimes they're gone, on a hunt that's a little too dangerous for lil sis, and if they can't keep you company it's really only fair if they teach you how to deal with yourself. They really want to raise you in a sex-positive environment--one where any sexual urges are immediately tended to in a way that your older brothers feel is appropriate.
"Baby? Dean and I want to talk to you about something." The words came on a quiet night; you had just finished a movie and only had research planned for the next day.
You looked up at sam from your position against the headboard, your phone still softly playing a video.
"We know that we've been gone a lot lately, and while we love how eager you are to have us home it has brought up a... concern," sam said soothingly, rubbing a hand up your calf. "We realized that we never taught you how to take care of yourself, and it might make us being gone extra stressful if you're not satisfied."
Dean walked towards the bed from his position in the doorframe, looming behind sam. "What sammy's trying to say is that when we're on a job you can't be sending photos of your wet little pussy and begging us to come home."
Sam shot him a sharp look, obviously trying to handle this as delicately as possible so he didn't embarrass you or make it seem like you're doing anything wrong. Dean shrugged his shoulders in response as if to say 'we all know it's what we're talking about'.
"Sorry," you said softly, cheeks reddening at the implication that you might have been distracting them.
"It's okay, princess, that's what your big brothers are here for. We just want to make sure you can handle yourself if you need to."
His hand drifted from your calf to the hem of your nightie, pushing it up while he searched your expression for any signs that you would prefer to just go to bed. When it was bunched at your waist he pulled your feet apart, drawing a low whistle from dean.
"Yeah, you can't go to bed like that, sweetheart. Did sammy soapin' you up in the bath do all that?"
You nodded shyly, tracking his movements as he moved to kneel on the floor by your head.
"Can you show us what you do if you feel like this when we're gone? Dunno how our sweet girl could fall asleep with all that."
"I don't really do anything," you whispered. "Never feels good like when you guys do it."
"Well ain't that sweet," dean said, looking to sam proudly.
"But we want you to feel good," sam interjected, cutting a sharp look at his brother. "So I got something for you. I know it's kinda scary," he said gesturing to an intimidating trident-shaped toy, "but we want to make sure that you're still doing something a little productive while we're gone. Dean, do you want to get her started with something?"
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he opened it to a pre-approved video.
"I chose this one for you to start, thought it was nice and cute, but I'll make you a little folder of things I think you'd like. Don't want our baby sister running into anything too scary." He wrapped your fingers around the phone, helping you prop it up against yourself.
"So what you're going to do," sam said, beginning his instruction, "is watch the video for a few minutes. Even if you think you're ready for your toy right away it's best to make sure." He paused, gently pulling your cunt apart for a view while he simulated how you would wait if you're alone. "And then once you feel ready you're just gonna have to get this end a little wet. It's probably easiest to just slip it in your mouth. Do you feel ready to try?"
You opened your mouth in affirmation, sam guiding the end with thick ribs into your mouth. You felt anticipation thick in your gut as he swirled it around your mouth, letting you work up enough saliva to coat the toy. It wasn't too big but it was... strange, and part of you wondered why they couldn't just teach you to use your fingers like they do.
"Just like that," he said, slipping it out. "Do you like the video dean's showing you?"
"Mhmm," you hummed, momentarily distracted from the intimidating instrument. "Thank you, dean."
"Of course princess," he responded, smoothing your hair. "It's cute how it makes your eyes all glassy."
You leaned into the palm he rested at your cheek, glad that he was here for extra support. Sam took hold of your free hand, wrapping around the smooth base of the toy. His fingers covered yours, letting you feel the way he was guiding you.
"To start, you're just going to slide the middle part along yourself," sam said, narrating his actions, "and get yourself used to the feeling before you slowly press it inside." He pushed the toy about an inch deep, the bulbous head feeling thick inside your entrance. "Then just keep going until you feel another part touch you." Sam did everything for you, letting your hand learn the way that he worked the middle part of the toy inside.
You flinched when you felt another prong of the silicone against your rim. Abandoning his post beside your head, dean leaned down to spit on the ribbed end of the toy.
"Just tryin' to make it nice and easy for you, princess," dean assured, giving you a little wink that put you more at ease.
Sam nestled the tip inside of you, not sliding it in more than a centimeter.
"Think you can be a big girl and get this part in yourself? Just gotta take two inches and then you can feel this," he switched the toy on, "against your pretty little clit." Even though the vibrations were low, the rumbly warmth against your g-spot and the tease against your ass was enough to make you want to shove the whole thing inside of you. Your mouth started going slack, dean's fingers quickly finding their way inside.
"Feels good, huh? Is it too much for our little sissy's cunt?" The words that came from dean's mouth were vulgar, but they held a twinge of real concern. If it was dean's choice he would've just taught you to use your fingers or gotten you a small bullet, but sam's always focused on 'productivity,' and 'enrichment,' and wanted you to get up to something besides mindlessly buzzing your clit over, and over.
You shook your head around your fingers, steadily pushing the toy deeper. When the final tine reached your clit your hips bucked. The middle piece was pressed deep enough that it was buzzing at your cervix, and your ass was being dragged open and filled a little more with every ounce of pressure you added to your clit. It was nowhere near the fullest you've ever been, but it might be the most pleasantly full you've ever been.
Dean's hand that wasn't in your mouth repositioned the forgotten phone, his fingers acting like a horsebit to steer your gaze to the video. Sam's eyes stayed locked on the way you swallowed up his toy, content with watching you choose the pace.
"Now just try to forget that we're here," dean murmured in your ear, staying close enough that any efforts to abide by his suggestion would be moot.
You instinctually started grinding on the toy, enjoying the way that every minute jerk of your hips shifted the type of pleasure the toy gave you. If you moved your hand more off the bed you got plenty of pressure on your clit but a wider stretch in your ass, and if your hand pushed down you got a thicker push against your rim and gentle vibrations that danced off the tip of your clit and straight to your gut. Whichever way your hand rocked the middle wand stayed relentlessly deep and thick inside.
Soon you were gasping for breath, more focused on navigating the toy and sucking on dean's fingers than breathing. Once your lungs were full again you let out a breathy little whine, the pleasure rendering you incapable of filtering any of your thoughts.
"I like this," you slurred, finding a rhythm with the toy that made your brain feel like it was actively turning to mush. The intense fullness coupled with the vibration was enough for you to feel yourself leak onto the bed.
"Yeah?," Sam said condescendingly, talking down to you in that way that he knows you love. "I wanted you to practice taking us even if we're not here. I know having two big brothers can be overwhelming."
"Two cocks is a lot for our little sissy to deal with," dean agreed, turning your wandering eyes back to the screen. "Already so full she can barely concentrate on watching a little porn."
"You're trying, aren't you baby?" Sam's voice was so sickly sweet that you could barely stand it. "Not your fault that you're a sensitive little thing."
"A sensitive little thing who's about to cum," dean cut in, a voice in the back of your head wondering how the fuck he knows that if he's not even touching you. "Yeah, I can see you twitchin', sis. Gonna cum all over that toy for your big brothers? Prove you can take care of yourself?"
"I can," you gasped, not wanting to give them any reason to make you wait. "I can take care of myself I swear." Your voice was breathy and desperate as you pleaded with them. They hadn't given you any indication that they were planning on edging you, but they were your big brothers and that meant that they could be bullies.
"You really want it, huh? I can't say no to that. Dean?" Sam looked over to his brother in confirmation, really wanting to draw this out for you while you waited for his word.
"Yeah, you've been a sweet little thing tonight. Took all of your toy with no complaints, I think that deserves a reward."
Your face broke apart in relief, and you were careful to keep your eyes trained on the phone so they didn't take their gift back. You kept rocking the toy into you, grinding down hard against the nub that touched your clit. You felt your pleasure building, starting a lot slower than usual.
"Think this is gonna be a big one, baby," dean murmured, giving you back his fingers to suck on while you broke apart. Your chest heaved, breaths coming in uneven pants as you felt it approaching, the sensation pulling deep in your gut and spreading through your limbs. You tried whining their names around his fingers, but all dean did was hush you. "Just feel it. Know it's a big feeling for such a little girl." It broke you apart in deep, pulsing waves, your cunt clamping around the toy hard enough to be borderline painful. When your hand movements stilled sam took hold of toy again, restarting the rocking movements to keep the intensity. You whined and bit at dean's fingers, not coming down until sam eased up on the toy. He slid it out of you, the noises the toy made in your pussy straight-up lewd.
"Good girl," sam praised, his hand reaching up to smooth your hair. The corners of your mouth pulled in satisfaction around dean's fingers, your body feeling completely wrung of pleasure.
Dean peered down at the state of your cunt, smirking when he saw how the toy had wrecked you.
"Cute little cunt looks almost as messy as she does after she takes her brothers."
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Innocent/shy reader who lives with Dean who has a nasty corruption kink walks into the house and sees a girl giving Dean a blowjob or Dean watching obscene porn in the tv and jerking himself??? Thoughts on this concept??🫡🫡
Because seeing him with another woman would break my little heart we’re going with the jerking one. And dear god is that a visual. He’s sitting in the living room, just waiting for you to come home and see. He has exactly what he wants to show you queued up on the tv, freaky enough that you wouldn’t find it yourself but not so intimidating that you’re too scared to watch. He hears your key in the door, and he swears he feels himself get harder. You walk in straight to the living room, and he's posted there just waiting for you. You freeze, obviously, not knowing what the hell to do in this situation. You're mostly just... surprised, but there's a healthy dash of anticipation and something starting to warm in your belly. He's so casual, totally relaxed while you watch his huge hand lazily pump at his even huger cock. A laugh gets caught on your throat when you realize that he's bigger than the guy in the video.
"Somethin' funny, sweetheart?" He sounded every bit as sure of himself as you would expect, and that voice, like always, did something to you. Knocked you off balance, cut off your train of thought, and even if you didn't have the vocabulary for it you wanted him to talk you through it. You wanted to hear that voice telling you how well you were taking him, how tight you feel around his thick cock, how he wishes he could take a video of how perfect you sound all full of him.
"Cat got your tongue? You're always a little shy but are you really just gonna stand there and watch?"
You stood there and watched him.
"I mean you can..."
"No! No, I'll, um, come over." You felt intensely awkward, even if he was the one with his pants down. If you hadn't stolen a pair of his sweats straight from his hamper last week you maybe wouldn't be as excited about this whole coming-home-to-cock-and-porn thing. It was extra exciting because it was new. You weren't stupid, you weren't a child, but the intense thrum of desire and how you felt like you were about to start drooling was a fresh experience for you.
You shuffled towards him, just dropping your things and shucking your shoes on the way. You figured this was not the time to uphold your roommate agreement of minimal clutter.
Taking note of the trail you left behind you, Dean smirked. "Too excited for a stop at the coat closet, pretty?"
You flushed, feeling like you fucked this up before it even started. So you were supposed to uphold the roommate agreement right now.
"Shhh, just teasin'." He grabbed your hips, guiding you to sit on the couch next to him. You kept your eyes locked on his angry red tip the whole time, not sure where else you were supposed to could look.
"You can touch," he said easily, obviously anything but shy. "Wouldn't be jacking off in the living room if I didn't want you to."
You reached out tentatively, only now flicking your eyes up to his. He gave you an encouraging nod, and when your fingers wrapped around him he hissed. His cock made your hand look tiny, comedically so, and there was so much that it made you wonder how you were going to cover so much ground. The skin was warm and surprisingly soft, and the velvety texture only made you want to touch him more.
"Just like that, princess. Just want you to play. It's way more fun to watch you play with cock for the first time than get another fucking handjob."
You nodded, feeling totally entranced by the thing you were holding in your hand. Never was that a word you would think you'd use, but just like the rest of him it was fucking perfect. Or maybe it was perfect because it was attached to perfect thighs and a perfect tan stomach that was attached to a perfect tan neck which attached to his perfect fucking face. Your eyes followed your train of thoughts, and when you looked up at him with that wide, innocent gaze dean felt like all the air had been punched out of him.
You felt like you were groping him more than stroking him, but you had yet to hear a peep of a complaint. Your thumb traced the divot under his head, and you watched him flinch when you brushed the flat part. Then you gripped him, slipping all the way down to feel the textured skin of his sac.
Dean watched you with wonder, seeming to have been telling the truth when he said that he'd rather watch you explore than make him cum.
"Having fun?"
His words shocked you out of your trance, but you quickly nodded in affirmation.
"Yeah. You're so... pretty. Can I... um. Can I put you in my mouth?" Your words were quiet and unsure, the verbal equivalent to a fawn, but you felt like you were about to start drooling so you didn't really care.
"Course you can, baby. Wanna get on your knees or lay on your tummy?"
"My knees," you whispered back, your eyes still locked on where your hand was wrapped around his cock.
He whipped the cushion against the back of the couch onto the floor, positioning it so you could kneel on it.
"Are you excited? Little thing like you is gonna have cock in her mouth for the first time. Fuckin' adorable."
You scrambled to the floor in response, the tip of your tongue immediately finding the head. The look on dean's face was so blissed out that you could shove your insecurities aside, and just play. Your tongue darted out to lick him everywhere you were interested in, and once his whole shaft had been worked up to a shine you closed your lips around the head. You worked slow, taking him bit by bit and laving your tongue the whole time, and when you got to taste a bead of him you moaned excitedly.
"Jesus, you're fuckin' cute," dean panted, his hand gently petting your head. "Actin' like a little puppy. I fuckin' love it."
Your whole body buzzed with the praise, and his words spurred you on to take him a little deeper. You finally understood the term 'mouthfull of cock.' He rested heavy on your tongue, and your whole universe seemed to shrink to what you could fit in your mouth.
"Look at you. Didn't even have to ask and you're trying to take me down your throat. Would've fucked my hand in the living room sooner if I knew you were gonna react like an eager little whore."
@i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @suggakookie97, @cybxrcvnt, join here
unnamed player but tagged it with suggestions by my readers.
words: 1698
warnings: breeding threat / beg, unprotected sex (obv), dirty talk.
smut immediately under the cut.
There were fewer sights better than the one before you now.
Your knee hooks over his shoulder, the other is spread as open as possible while your dress is pushed up to your waist and pooling behind you. Two fingers slowly, almost hypnotically pump in and out of you while his tongue swirls and flicks over your clit. His eyes are closed, seemingly savouring every moan and whimper that you reward him with for his efforts. Your head drops back, your lips part and your breathing feels ragged as the hand that grips his hair keeps him locked in place, unable to move.
Tonight was never not going to end with sex. One glance at him in a suit and it was game over for you. For him, it was when you’d stuffed your underwear into his jacket pocket and kissed him deeply enough for him to taste you on your tongue from when you’d slipped two fingers inside your pussy intentionally while removing your underwear with the sole reason of making your intentions clear for later. His expression had been one you wouldn’t forget in a hurry.
It’s difficult, but you still rock your hips against him, eager for more. All but demanding more from him. “Baby, do I need to leave you alone with your vibrator if you want to do it yourself or are you going to let me pleasure you?” His tone suggests he’s joking but the way he looks up at you says the warning his voice does not. You opt to say nothing, your lip catching between your teeth as you bite down as his fingers effortlessly locate and stroke over your inner spot. “I can’t decide if you’re needy or impatient.”
He makes both sound like a shameful trait to have but you feel anything other than such emotion. “Is it wrong to need you as much as I do?” The singular sentence is choked out and his mouth curves into a grin.
“Need me?” he asks, his tongue making one long swipe from your soaked hole to your clit. “Or part of me?” it’s as though your brain has short circuited, no logical or rational thought comes to mind and the sounds you make are barely human.
His fingers continue to coax you closer to an orgasm with disgusting ease and the only thing you can reply with is, “does it matter?” when your brain is functioning again.
“See, it does, yes.” he replies almost matter-of-factly. “Because I want you. All of you. In every way. I want you in ways I haven’t even had you yet.” you know he’s felt the way your cunt throbs around his fingers because his smirk becomes a fully fledged grin.
“How?”
“I want you in public, hand pressed over your mouth to try to muffle your moans but I'm almost certain someone else can hear you. The thought of them touching themselves to the memory of your whimpers turns me on so much. Fuck baby, it feels like it turns you on too.” you’d try to deny it, but you can feel the fresh drips of wetness leaking from you as his fingers pull from you before sinking back in.
“What else?”
“I want to play with you while you’re taking a work call. Either my tongue deep inside this pussy,” he says as he swipes his thumb over your swollen clit at the same time his fingers make a beckoning motion against your g-spot, “or my cock slipping into your throat just enough to make you gag on it. You’d be hoping that your boss won’t ask what that sound was or if you’re ok but I’d be hoping he would. Oh to hear what kind of excuse you came up with….” His tongue replaces his thumb and he flicks it mercilessly over your clit in a way that should be considered illegal.
“I want my cock inside you, no protection -” he continues like he hasn’t just taken you to the edge, “just taking you while telling you how fucking good you feel. And God do you feel amazing.”
“Please baby, enough teasing.” You're close to begging. The unholy images which fill your mind in disgusting detail only helps to edge you along with his words.
“This isn’t teasing.” He corrects you, slowly lowering your knee from his shoulder, only to bring your foot to the center of his chest as he gets into a position where his cock is at the perfect angle to slide into you. He works quickly to free himself, a dot of pre-cum glistens at the slit as he gives himself a stroke for some brief relief. “This is 100% a promise.” He says as he pushes the tip of his cock between your lips and the first inch of him presses inside. “Like now,” he moves, jutting his hips to close the distance to yours. He stretches you apart and fills you all at once in such a way that makes your back arch and your eyes roll. “You are going to feel every inch of me. With no barriers, no protection, nothing between us.”
He builds up his rhythm, one hand holding onto your leg to steady himself, the other holding your hip while your fingers dip between your legs and stroke over your clit. His eyes are no longer on your face, but of the way you play with yourself. Watching as he sinks into you repeatedly, your wetness covering his shaft with a slick that leaves a ring around the base of him. “You are going to take everything I give you,” he says darkly, an expression passing over his features that could make you climax on the spot. He’s never cum inside you before, but reading between the lines tells you this is exactly what he has in mind.
“Need to feel you dripping out of me,” you encourage him, hoping that you haven’t misjudged his intentions and have ruined the mood. Dirty talk wasn’t your speciality and was mostly left to him to unravel you with his words. You knew what you wanted, knew how to make him feel like a goddamn… well, God, but to be vocal or do some form of roleplay? It left you wanting to hide.
“Dripping out of you? No baby, I’m going to be pushing it back in.” He slows his movements, entering you with deep thrusts and pulling back to almost the tip before sinking back into you. If you could think straight, you might even think he was timing his words for each thrust. “You’re not wasting a single drop.” Without protection, you can feel every throb of his cock and the thick vein strokes over spots within you that you didn’t need touching before now. The hard ridge of the head of his cock drags gorgeously over inches of previously ignored nerves which have you bucking your hips to him. The fingers covering your clit move faster, picking up the pace in time with his hips bringing unfiltered pleasure.
“Don’t want to.” You pant, your back arching into the sensation. “Need you. Need all of you.” It’s all you can manage to get out before you feel the first drip of your release. You clench around him, your pussy pulsing around him, tightening like a fist with need which draws out a long groan from him which only makes you respond harder.
Your orgasm hits fully now spilling out of you as he pulls back to the tip, allowing enough space around his cock for your wetness to seep out. Words fail you. Thoughts are non-existent. Your fingers continue to rub against your clit, milking as much euphoria as possible. Your sounds drown out as it becomes too much, all your body can do is feel and not do. Your body feels both weak, seconds from flopping against him like a rag doll and giving in to the way your muscles go rigid as pleasure surges throughout your system, overriding your body function and leaving you immobilised.
“You feel too fucking good like this,” he tells you, sinking back into you as the dregs of your climax fizzles out and your hands move to hold onto him. Your eyes close but you can still feel the way they seem to roll. His face buries in your shoulder, his lips press to your skin, his teeth scrape over the surface as he whines again. “Why has it taken this long to have you like this?” His fingers dig a little more into your muscles in his haste to cum.
You want to agree, want to praise him and big him up, make him feel the way that he’s making you feel but the only thing you can do is focus on the way his hips buck, and how his dick thrusts in and out of you. He licks, bites, sucks and teases his way over your neck and shoulder, needing to experience you in every way possible. His noises are pathetically beautiful as he nears his own release. He tries not to pound into you to the point of pain, but he takes you with need and urgency, until finally his hips still and he’s fully inside you. His throbs are clear now without the confines of the condom, and there’s a warm sensation filling you up as his breathing becomes ragged.
You stroke his nape with one hand and over his back with the other, holding him in place until he comes down again, needing to soothe yourself with this action as much as him. Your body feels alive in ways that it has never. The sex is a type you’ve had with him before, plenty of dirty talk, the sense that you’ve been fucked rather than simply had sex, but it felt different. You felt different. You were his in the usual sense of the word, his girlfriend, his lover, his - in his words - his best friend, but this? This raw savage way of claiming you? You were his, and if he felt the need to remind either of you of this fact, you were more than willing to be reminded.
The roar of the crowd still echoed in Virgil's ears as he strode through the door, the Premier League trophy gleaming in his hands. Liverpool had done it. Champions. But the smile faltered on his face when he saw you, sitting on the couch, clad in the scarlet jersey of Manchester United. His blood ran cold.
"Really?" He dropped the trophy on the coffee table, the thud reverberating through the room. "Tonight? You chose tonight?"
You didn't look up, eyes glued to the muted television screen showing highlights of Liverpool's victory.
"What else am I supposed to wear? You've stained all my clothes red."
He ran a hand through his hair, the joy of the win curdling into frustration. "You know how much this means to me. To us."
"Oh, I know," you finally said, turning to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "It means you get to gloat for the next year. Congratulations."
"Don't be like that." He knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his. "Can we just...can we just celebrate together? Just for tonight, put aside the rivalry?"
You pulled your hands away, standing up. "I can't, Virgil. It's in my blood. United is in my blood."
He rose as well, towering over you. "And I'm not?"
"You're...complicated," you admitted, avoiding his gaze. "You're the enemy I happen to love."
He stepped closer, backing you against the wall. "Then let me show you who the real champion is." His voice was low, a husky promise that sent shivers down your spine despite your best efforts.
"Virgil, don't," you breathed, but the protest lacked conviction.
He didn't stop. His hands found the hem of your jersey, slowly pulling it up, revealing the bare skin of your stomach. "This is just a shirt," he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. "It doesn't define you. I do."
You shivered, the heat of his body melting away your resistance. "You're insufferable."
"But you love me," he countered, his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts beneath the thin fabric of your bra.
"Maybe," you conceded, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck.
He took the invitation, nipping and sucking at your skin until you moaned, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders. "Take it off," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.
You hesitated, your eyes flickering to the discarded trophy. "What about your big win?"
"This is my celebration," he growled, tugging the jersey over your head. He tossed it to the floor, then unhooked your bra, letting your breasts spill into his waiting hands.
He cupped them, kneading and teasing your nipples until they were hard and aching. You gasped, arching your back, offering yourself to him. "Please," you whispered, your voice thick with need.
He obliged, his mouth latching onto one nipple, sucking hard while his fingers danced over the other. You cried out, your legs trembling. He was right. He did define you. He controlled you.
He pulled away, his eyes burning into yours. "On your knees."
The command was unexpected, shocking. You stared at him, defiance flickering in your eyes. "What?"
"You heard me," he said, his voice brooking no argument. "Get on your knees for the champion."
A battle raged within you. Pride warred with desire. Loyalty to your team clashed with the overwhelming need for him. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, you knelt before him.
He smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes. He reached for his belt buckle, the metallic click echoing in the silent room.
You watched, mesmerized, as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans, revealing the thick, hard length of his cock straining against his boxers.
He pushed the fabric down, freeing his erection. It sprang forth, thick and heavy, pulsing with anticipation. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry.
"Open wide," he instructed, his voice a low growl.
You obeyed, parting your lips. He guided his cock to your mouth, the head nudging against your teeth. You took him in, slowly, reverently, savoring the taste and feel of him.
He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding your head. You sucked him deep, your tongue dancing over his shaft, teasing and tormenting him. He bucked against your mouth, his hips thrusting in time with your ministrations.
"Fuck," he moaned, his body shaking. "You're so good."
He pulled you up, his grip tight on your arms. "Now it's my turn."
He lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist. You clung to him, your bodies pressed together, skin to skin. He carried you to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.
He laid you on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He straddled you, his knees pinning your arms to the mattress. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your name," he promised, his voice a husky rasp.
He plunged into you, his cock filling you completely. You gasped, your body arching in response. He began to move, slowly at first, then faster and harder, driving you both to the edge of ecstasy.
You cried out, your nails digging into his back. He kissed you, his tongue plunging into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips. You were lost, consumed by the fire that raged between you.
He pulled out, hovering over you, his cock glistening with your combined fluids.
"Say it," he demanded, his eyes burning into yours.
"Say what?" you gasped, your breath coming in ragged pants.
"Say Liverpool is the best," he growled.
You hesitated, your pride warring with your desire. But the need for him was too strong to resist. "Liverpool is the best," you whispered, the words tasting like ash in your mouth.
He smirked, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. He plunged back into you, driving you both over the edge. You screamed, your body convulsing in a series of intense orgasms. He roared, his own release shaking him to his core.
They lay entwined, panting, their bodies slick with sweat. The animosity had been washed away, replaced by the raw, primal connection that bound them together.
After a few minutes of catching their breath, Virgil rolled off you, his eyes still locked with yours. He traced the curve of your cheek with his finger, a soft smile gracing his lips.
"Was it worth it?" he asked, his voice gentle.
You looked away, shame washing over you. "I don't know," you mumbled.
He chuckled, pulling you closer. "Don't worry," he whispered in your ear. "I'll make sure you never forget who's in charge."
He kissed you again, a slow, lingering kiss that promised more to come. And as you surrendered to his embrace, you knew, deep down, that he was right.
He was the champion, in every sense of the word.
✧.・。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・。.✧
The next morning, you woke up first, the sun streaming through the window. The events of the previous night seemed like a dream, a fevered fantasy fueled by passion and rivalry.
You sat up, stretching, your muscles aching in protest. You glanced around the room, your eyes landing on the crumpled Manchester United jersey lying on the floor. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you.
You reached for the jersey, smoothing out the wrinkles.
You couldn't deny that Virgil had gotten to you, had broken down your defenses and forced you to acknowledge his dominance. But that didn't mean you had to like it
You stood up, determined to reclaim your pride, to assert your own identity. You walked to the closet, rummaging through the clothes until you found what you were looking for: a brand new Manchester United jersey, still in its packaging.
You ripped it open, pulling the jersey over your head. You strode to the mirror, admiring yourself in the scarlet fabric. A smile played on your lips. The battle wasn't over. It had just begun.
Virgil walked in, a cup of coffee in each hand. He stopped short when he saw you, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Good morning," you said, your voice challenging.
He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Wearing that again, are we?"
"Yep," you replied, popping the 'p'. "Just wanted to remind you who I support."
He chuckled, handing you a cup of coffee. "As if I could forget."
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He nuzzled your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "You know, there's only one way to settle this once and for all."
"Oh yeah?" you said, turning to face him. "And what's that?"
He leaned in, whispering in your ear. "Another round."
You laughed, pushing him away playfully. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
But as you looked into his eyes, you knew that resistance was futile. The game had changed, but the rules remained the same. He was the champion, and you were his willing opponent.
"You know," he said, "I was thinking about something."
"Oh?" you replied, raising an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"I think it's time we introduced a new element into our little rivalry," he said, his voice low and suggestive.
"And what would that be?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.
He leaned in close, whispering in your ear. "A little bit of...punishment."
You gasped, your eyes widening in surprise. "Punishment?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," he said, his voice growing more insistent.
"For every time you wear that United jersey, you'll have to pay the price."
"And what price would that be?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.
He smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes. "That's for me to decide."He reached for your jersey, tearing it open, revealing your bare skin. You gasped, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement.
He began to kiss you, his lips rough and demanding. You moaned, surrendering to his touch.
He pulled away, his eyes filled with desire. "You're going to regret this," he whispered, his voice a promise.
He bent down, lifting you into his arms. He carried you towards the bedroom.
As he closed the door behind you, you knew that you were entering a new and exciting chapter in your relationship. The rivalry would continue, but now it would be laced with a delicious dose of pain and pleasure. And you couldn't wait to see where it would lead.
"You thought you could get away with it, didn't you?" he growled, his voice a low rumble. "You thought you could flaunt your little jersey and get away with it?"
You didn't answer, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew that you had crossed a line, and now you were going to pay the price.
He threw you onto the bed, his eyes filled with a dark and dangerous passion. You gasped, your body arching in anticipation.
He ripped off your panties, his movements rough and impatient. You lay naked before him, your body exposed and vulnerable.
He straddled you, his body length and weight making you feel weak while he pinned you, to the mattress. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desire.
"You're mine," he whispered, his voice a husky rasp. "And you're going to learn to obey me."
He bent down, kissing you roughly on the mouth. You moaned, surrendering to his touch.
"I'm going to punish you," he whispered, his voice a promise. "And you're going to enjoy every minute of it."
He began to kiss you, his lips rough and demanding. You moaned, surrendering to his touch.
He worked his way down your body, kissing and licking every inch of your skin. You gasped, your body trembling with anticipation.
He reached your breasts, sucking and teasing your nipples until they were hard and aching.
He moved lower, kissing and licking your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You moaned, your body writhing in pleasure.
He reached your pussy, his tongue darting between your lips. You screamed, your body convulsing in a series of intense orgasms.
He pulled away, his eyes filled with a dark and love. "You like that, don't you?" he whispered, his voice a husky rasp. "You like being punished."
You didn't answer, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.
He stood up, his eyes never leaving yours. He walked to the dresser, opening the top drawer.
He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, his eyes filled with a dark and dangerous passion.
You gasped, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew that you were in for a long and painful night.
He walked back to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He knelt down, attaching the handcuffs to your wrists.
He pulled your arms above your head, securing the handcuffs to the bedposts. You were trapped, helpless, at his mercy.
He stood up, his eyes filled with a dark and dangerous passion. "Now," he said, his voice a husky rasp. "The real fun begins."
He reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly and deliberately. You watched, mesmerized, as he pulled the belt from his waist.
He wrapped the belt around his hand, his eyes filled with a danger.
You gasped, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew what was coming, and you were terrified.
He raised the belt above his head, his eyes never leaving yours.
He brought the belt down, striking you hard across the ass.
You screamed, your body arching in pain.
He raised the belt again, striking you again and again, each blow more painful than the last.
You screamed and cried, begging him to stop. But he didn't listen. He continued to strike you.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he stopped.
You lay on the bed, sobbing, your body covered in welts and bruises.
He stood over you. "Do you understand now?" he whispered, his voice a husky rasp. "Do you understand who's in charge?"
You nodded, your body trembling with fear.
He smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Good," he said, his voice a husky rasp. He bent down, kissing you roughly on the mouth. You moaned, surrendering to his touch.
He began to fuck you, his movements rough and demanding. You cried out, your body arching in pain and pleasure.
He fucked you harder and harder, driving you both to the edge of ecstasy.
You screamed, your body convulsing in a series of intense orgasms.
He roared, his own release shaking him to his core.
After a few minutes of catching their breath, Virgil rolled off you, his eyes still locked with yours. He traced the curve of your cheek with his finger, a soft smile gracing his lips.
The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the gentle hum of the air conditioner as you lay on the bed, still catching your breath. The aftermath of the heated encounter left you both exhilarated and exhausted.
Virgil shifted beside you, his eyes softening as he took in your flushed cheeks and the way you were still trembling slightly. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin.
"Hey," he said, his voice low and soothing. "You okay?"
You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "Yeah, I just... needed a moment."
He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze steady and reassuring. "I know I got a bit carried away."
There was an edge of concern in his voice, and it made your heart swell. "I just wanted to remind you who’s in charge, but I didn’t mean to push you too far."
You smiled weakly, appreciating his care. "It was intense. But I think I needed that."
Virgil’s expression softened further. "I’m glad you enjoyed it. But I also want to make sure you feel safe and cared for, too." He reached for a damp cloth from the bedside table, gently wiping your forehead and tracing the contours of your cheeks.
His touch was tender, and you felt the warmth of his affection wash over you. “You did so well,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m proud of you.”
“Really?” you asked, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.
“Really,” he affirmed, a smile breaking through his earlier intensity. “You’re amazing.”
As he continued to gently clean your skin, you felt the tension of the night fade away, replaced by a sense of comfort and intimacy. His fingers grazed over the marks left on your body, and he frowned slightly, his thumb brushing over a particularly sensitive spot.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
“Just a little,” you replied, your voice soft. “But it’s a good kind of hurt. I promise.”
He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let me know if it gets too much. I don’t want you to feel pain unless you want to.”
You felt a warmth spread through you, and it had nothing to do with the heat of the moment before. His protectiveness was comforting, and you reveled in the knowledge that he cared deeply for you.
Virgil got up momentarily, returning with a bottle of water. “Here,” he said, handing them to you. “You should drink this. And if you need anything else, just tell me.”
You took the water gratefully, sipping it slowly as you watched him. He settled back beside you, pulling you close against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming your racing thoughts.
“Thank you for being so understanding,” you said, your voice muffled against his skin.
“Always,” he replied, his fingers running soothingly along your back. “I want you to feel safe with me. I’ll always take care of you, no matter what even if you’re a United fan.”
You chuckle and nestled closer, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you. “I know,” you murmured. “And I trust you.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, holding you tighter. “Let’s just relax for a bit. No football talk, no rivalries. Just you and me.”
You smiled, content in the cocoon of his arms. As the moments passed, you both drifted into a comfortable silence, the bond between you deepening in the aftermath of the night’s passion.
With each gentle stroke and whispered word, you felt the tension of the earlier struggle fade away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of belonging and connection. You knew that despite your differences, you were both on the same team in this relationship.
“Hey,” he said after a while, breaking the silence.
“Next time we celebrate, how about we wear each other’s jerseys? A little compromise?”
You laughed softly, looking up at him. “You mean I’d have to wear a Liverpool shirt?”
“Only if you promise to wear it with pride,” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Alright, deal,” you replied, a grin spreading across your face.
As you settled into a comfortable silence, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship—one filled with love, trust, and the perfect mix of rivalry and affection.
The room judders with vitality, the bass emitting from the current song sends pangs of ebulliance to each corner of the room and these pangs bounce straight into Clarrisa’s chest. Enlivened by the bass that jerks her nerves, she sways sensually from side to side with her fourth shot of Wrays and Nephews cupped loosely in her hand. The bitter liquid made her feel somnolent, and she was ready to return to their hotel. However, the man she came with, Virgil, was too lost in a foreign conversation to notice how her bare skin rubbed against him, a silent plea for attention.Tiny beads of sweat border the perimeter of her hairline and do it’s best to drench upper lip as a result of the stifling heat—which was inevitable when you had this many human-beings packed together and buzzing like a swarm of bees.
Dazzling, coloured LED lights run around the room, crawling up the walls and scribbling along the ceiling. Red, blue and purple lights sweep across the jampacked room, successful in illuminating the planes of the foreign faces. She could admit these lights embellished the collection of unique features that filled the room's capacity. Clarrisa wasn’t patriotic by any stretch of the imagination but would ride to the end regarding the beauty of the people in her country. British men and women in her eyes were next to none, but whilst taking in the room and the unique features of Dutch faces she was graced with she was ready to rest her case.
After two hours of being jam-packed in this room like a can of sardines with perspiring and chaotic bodies, that were no doubt under the influence of substances stronger than alcohol, it was safe to say her social battery had died, alongside her will to keep dancing as the beads of sweat spewing from her pores made her delicate areas rub and slide with every subtle shift of her body. Thank God for the lights in there, otherwise her sweat patches would cause more of a spectacle than she was harboring in her mind.
She turns towards Virgil, whose face was marred with an intrigued expression as he partook in a long and seemingly deep conversation with an old time friend, Javier. But unfortunately for Virgil that didn’t matter to Clarrisa. Impatience steadily leaked through her mind and bled to her restless body; her nerves sang with longing for alone time. The way she wanted the night to ensue was engraved in her mind, the perfect way to end a night like this for Clarrisa was to be carried out bare foot in Virgil’s arms and once they got home in record time after dodging as many red lights as possible, she’d be folded like a pretzel and pressed into the mattress like they played jujitzu professionally.. That wasn’t too much to ask. Sex under the influence was a luxury, there were no boundaries, no inhibitions, just two numb souls seeking nirvana where their bodies met.
Her lips round into an ‘o’ shape as she draws in sharp and elongated breaths in pursuit of a cooling sensation to act as a balm against hot passion igniting her body. She impatiently shifts her weight from her aching left foot to right foot and is again reminded of another reason as to why she is so eager to go home, her flipping feet hurt, and if blisters started to taint the look of her soft and supple feet, she’d be having words with Virgil. It’s not easy standing on 4 inch heels for hours at a time, he’d never understand. Clarrisa arches her body into the Man of Steel next to her with no care in the world for his conversation. She pouts, resting her head against arm, waiting for acknowledgement.
And almost immediately, as if he could distinct the heat of her perusal from the stiff heat in the room, he twists his torso slightly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulls her firmly into his side. He doesn’t look at her though, not once. Only Javier does, his gaze flickers to Clarrisa shooting her a pitiful smile before responding to Virgil’s question. Well, by the sound of its inflection it sounded like a question.
In Clarissa's mind, flushing her body against Virgil’s would seep into him signals of her desperation and inevitably influence him into asking her the big question, “Are you tired?” or “Home time?” but she’d never been so wrong. She’d also never felt so distant from Virgil as she did in this moment, the strong smell of his cologne didn’t spike her blood in the way it usually did, it simply hung in the air away from her. Her heart didn’t flutter at a million miles per hour at their bodily contact as it usually did. Maybe it was the fact they were both stuck in different realms mentally and the liquid poison was victorious at lapping at their neural pathways enough to distort their realities. Her bottom lip rolls in between her teeth, contemplatively. She bites down on it, suppressing an outrage she didn’t think he deserved just yet. But didn’t want a fucking side hug. She wanted to go home. At this instant. And if that made her a spoiled brat, so be it.
The conversation between Virgil and Javier was in Dutch and although there was no malice in this decision she couldn’t explain why this hurt her so much. Clarrisa frequently tried to ‘umm’ and ‘ahh’ to the English words that her ears latched onto but the Dutch pace always left her behind.
Her eyebrows crease, wide-eyed jealousy sewn into her expression that could freeze Javier into stone.
Is this childhood friend so important that I turn into a ghost?
Her torpid fingers latch weakly onto the hem of Virgil’s white True Religion shirt bunching in her small fists as she tugged impatiently. Weak murmurs of desperation leave her mouth, low pleas to cut his conversation short but it was no surprise that 50 Cent's aggressive lyrics swallowed her words rendering them non-existent to Virgil. This only stretched the low, simmering anger—or rather brattines—coiling in her stomach threatening to rip into a millions shreds of anger. Her restless ringers, slither slowly towards his belt buckle. She keeps her gaze locked on his side profile and nearly squeals with excitement when he sees his jaw tighten, his masseter muscle piercing through his stubbled skin. Something between a low moan and a gasp leaves her red lips in response, she’s got him where she wants.
Finally he turns to her with an illegible look flashing in his eyes. The look held her heart hostage. His right brow raises slightly in tandem with the storm brewing at his lips, but he bites at them before the storm can cause destruction. His head tilts slightly as he looks down at her to inspect her expression clearly. Then, it hit. The realisation dawned upon him as fast as the songs in this club switch. He watches as her thighs clench tightly below them with anticipation and realises that she wants something he’s unable to give him right now. She thought she was slick…well…she clearly was down there. She further leans into his hard body, her fingers skittering across the zipper of his jeans pressing dangerously close to a forbidden area.
“Dont test me. Not here” is the look he gives her with a subtlety that Javier wouldn’t catch onto but she loves a test and doesn't remove her grip on his most sensitive area.
His low eyes transfixed on her red lips.
Have I won him over? Clarissa thinks.
Virgil's lips part slightly and her heart rate is fueled by the possibility that he’ll say the words. Images of a fulfilled night plague the damaged confines of her mind and miraculously she's unable to voice her needs now that she has him where she wants him. Her resolve weak under this domiant leer.
She also knew that in a matter of seconds he could turn back to continue his conversation with the man standing opposite them, who was actively conjuring up his response to continue their dormant conversation (she could see it in his eyes through the envy in hers). In this moment it felt like her fingers were wrapped loosely around a balcony’s metal railing overlooking the ocean and her feet dangle over the edge, her fate falling dangerously close to the water's current. Virgil’s words will announce her fate, dictating whether she falls in and is swallowed by the water or is pulled up to safety. She hopes the latter will come to pass, she’d reward him plentifully— even more so that she planned to—the minute they stumbled into the hotel.
Like a bolt from the blue, Clarrisa falls into the deep end. Shocks of displeasure bubble underneath the surface of her clammy skin and she internally seethes like a rabid dog. The alcohol has no doubt heightened her emotions because her body experiences the same shock falling from that height would. Virgil swiftly places a wet kiss on her clammy forehead, grazing her chin lightly with his thumb from the arm slithered around her shoulder before resuming his conversation with Javier who was none the wiser to Clarrisa's struggle against her heated passion to rid of his existence.
Pure ire shoots her brows dangerously close to her hairline. It stems from the ground, growing roots that shot through her entire being, elevating her to the balls of her feet.
“Virgyyy! Virgil? Virgil! Why are you ignoring me?” Her slurred words roll off of her tongue as she bats her heavy lids with a lot more effort than usual trying to see through the burn of fatigue stinging her eyes. If she was sober she’d have a bit more decorum and wait until his conversation was done, but when alcohol was involved and distorting her perception of reality—time wasn’t a concept she could understand, not when everyone’s slow movements were warring with her faced-paced thoughts begging for a way out of this preheated oven they were in. He doesn’t react and it’s hard for Clarrisa to distinguish whether he heard or not. His conversation with Javier reignites in full flow.
Unbeknownst to her, he had heard, but was aware at how sour the night would turn if he was stern with her in the way he wanted to be because she knew better.
“Virgil! Speak—Virgiil speaks English so I can be inv-voled, please. Virgil?” She taps his cheek like a clueless child, grabbing the underside of his chin and attempting to turn his head in her direction but he only stiffens to prevent her from doing so.
Virgil's eyes burn Clarrisa with a pointed look strong enough to scold her fingers and send them dropping immediately to her sides. Her face buzzes with uncontained irritation when yet against a request falls upon deaf ears. She hated being ignored just as much as she hated having to be patient— especially in an environment where she felt like an outsider already. She stomps in place like a child, the sticky floor is the only thing Clarrisa feels deserves her displaced anger until her eyes explore the canvas of his neck where she eyes a branch of light green veins that boarded on blue tainting his smooth olive skin. It pulsed rapidly, signally to Clarrisa that he was more bothered than he looked.
She rises to the balls of her feet again and her lips part as she whispers across the expanse of his long neck. The heavy feeling weighting on her chest ignites her determination back up again and her teeth latch onto the thin skin adorning the column of his neck enough to pierce through the first layer of his skin. If she couldn’t draw out a reaction from him the normal way, she’d find another way. Something animalistic. He wouldn’t mind, he didn’t usually.
A painful hiss vibrates Virgil's chest and she giggles after kissing the spot to rid it of the lingering sting. But even that wasn’t enough to break him from his conversation. Virgil resorts to stroking her back roughly with the palm of his hand to calm her bratty demand for attention.
“Ugh!” She screeches. The shrill piercing through the riveting bass in the air and earning her some strange looks from onlookers.
Lowering to the soles of her feet, she looks around cautiously, feeling a cold rush of exposure. Any sane person watching his scene play out would think she was a desperate hooker wanting a long night with him and that couldn’t be further from the truth—-well the hooker part at least.
Roughly she hooks her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and attempts to pull him away from his conversation by tugging with all the strength her drunk body had. His body jolted backwards slightly, and underneath that friendly mask Virgil had on for Javier was a man whose patience wore thin. Virgil wanted nothing more than to go to the bathroom and show her what happens to disruptive girls but was aware of how vulnerable she was when this drunk. She wouldn’t be able to take it. His punishment wouldn’t be light. So, he threw his friend an empathetic look and then directed his attention towards Clarissa.
The intensity of the gaze they held between one another was long, electric and dominating. She looks away sheepishly mumbling a string of incoherent words weakly, feeling smaller under his gaze. His fingers move to thread through the tight curls at the back of her head and strains her head backwards with a firm grip. She’s yearning for his time and her eyes communicated this. She pulls her lips into her mouth, rubbing her red lips together as if to ready them for his ones. In response to this obvious gesture, the faintest smirk tugs at the corner of his lips but he knows better than to let it spread, he would be enabling this behavior.
“Clarissa. I won’t tell you again. Okay?” his gravelly voice demands slowly as if talking to a bad 3-year-old.
“People are watching. Behave.”
Clarrisa freezes for a split second, and the edge of her eyes round with disappointment. But, surprisingly the juncture between her thick thighs dampens. Behave, God, how could one word have such an impact on someone. Her cheeks flush, half from embarrassment and the other half with surprise that his tone could spike her pulse that much as it had and cause aching sensations deep in her core. Whether or not it was the bass in the room she didn’t know… but the air between them felt charged. And she knew she’d only find out why when they got back to their hotel. Playing off the sudden outpour of crippling heat tempting her body he tries to wriggle her head from Virgil’s grip in rebellion but he only tightens his grip. It’s not harsh, just imposing as per usual.
“You don’t like that?” His stare licks her up and down as he awaits her answer, swiping his tongue across his white teeth as he tries to control the urge he has to defile her for her petty behavior.
She shakes her head vehemently and whimpers, “No…it's not fair because I’ve waited all day for you! You promised we could leave the second I got tired!” The tug on his jeans only strengthens and if not for the belt holding them in place they’d be pooled at his feet. She looks down at the tension she’s creating and is reminded of the night they could have if they left right this instant. Her mouth moistens and she looks back up at him with a pout that would usually send him straight to his knees to repent for the dismay he’d caused her, but not tonight.
“We’ll go in a second. I’m talking to someone, Risa.” He answers sternly before he turns back to Javier but in the midst of this action he is halted when her fingers reach up to dig into his neck, pulling his face back towards her.
The mantle of composure she’d be inhabiting thus far falls, and what’s left—an emotional drunk woman—remains.
“No! I’m not waiting. I said now! Why is he more important than me right now?!!”she yells as the rims of her eyes overflow with tears that glisten like the surface of ice cubes as they reflect against the blue LED lights threatening to spill and ruin their night all together. This time her yells aren’t swallowed by the music, instead her yells are the club’s soundtrack.
“Answer me, Virgil!” Her nails dig enough to leave the crescent moon where her fingers dig.
“Clarissa, this night will end bad for you if you keep this up, I swear to God." He growls raspily in her ear, not before seizing her wrists from his neck and placing them back down at her sides. Her heart clenches and length of anger stretched in her guts rips to shreds, as a family of veins around her neck appear. Blood rushes to her cheeks and stains them a deep pink colour behind her brown skin, an abundance of anger seduces her tear ducts threatening to blind her with rage. His left arm resumes it's position around her shoulders and Javier reignites their conversations with a knowing look at Virgil, but she flings Virgil arms off aggressively.
“You’re so mean, Virgil. You’re awful to me, so awful.” She cries hiccuping as her tears renew. Virgil’s body slumps in his stance, rubbing on his bruised neck with his itching hands would circulate the column of her neck if they were alone.
“I’m not awful to—," She grips the collar of his shirt again, pulling him to her eyes level, she stumbles slightly as his weight lightens against her hold. “You’re a liar! You don’t want me anymore, you want to talk to Javier because you don’t want to be seen with me..” Despair cracks through her voice and woven into her words is the Devil himself influence fuelling her with lies that her suseptable mind digests.
Virgil winces. His weary lids squeeze to find composure in the darkness they bring meanwhile Clarissa bites her lips to stop her from wailing, but it's too late, the poison has already seeped into her brain and distorted the truth, “Is there someone here? A girl here?”
“Clarrisa you’re the only one I want—”
“Virgil, you're lying to me!” She sobs again, in no rush to wipe the snot that trails down her nostrils. She bangs her fits against his chest, her fists landing lower as he stands up to his full height unable to abate the yelling with positive thinking.
She sniffles, removing her hands from his body and clenching her stomach to soothe the pain she felt. She doesn't bother to wipe the tear stains, she resorts to look around finding an exit to storm off from before she can create even an inch of space between them he pulls her body until it’s backed up flush against his front. Stuck like glue. Both of his arms encapture her shoulder's width, caging her in until she has no choice but to be soothed by this grouding colonge. The sent that usually calmed her down after a long day, or like now riled her up to throw fits because she wanted what he was capable off.
But today, Clarissa wouldn't give in to how her nerves signifcantly stopped buzzing at ten million miles per hour against his hold. That notion would not overcome her damning despair.
He lowers his mouth to her ear, unbothered by the tussling she’s doing against his hold because she’ll never see victory in that battle, and he grabs Javier's attention who by the looks of it is surprised at how Virgil deals with this on a daily basis. Virgil smirks and Javier mirrors his expression before Virgil slowly insists, “I need you to apologize to Javier for your behavior Clarrisa."
He lifts up, contented, when he sees the goosebumps that line down the skin on her neck in the wake of his words and looks to Javier with a nasty smirk.
“Ze is stout geweest, nietwaar?"
"She's been very bad, hasn't she?"
The abundance of tears trailing down Clarrissa’s face halt, leaving streaks of black marks in their absense. Her ragged breaths hitch in her throat as she attempts to thrust backwards against Virgil grip. Although she had no clue what he said, he bulge poking at her from behind was very telling, and stoked her centre ablaze.
You are sitting on the couch at home, snuggled up next to Virgil van Dijk. The atmosphere is quiet, the sound of the television in the background is barely perceptible. His presence was always reassuring, a mix of strength and sweetness that made you feel protected. He has his arm resting on your shoulder, his fingers slowly marking circles on the fabric of your shirt.
You turn slightly to look at him, the sculpted profile of his face is illuminated by the light of the screen. He looks down at you with a smile just touched, one of those smiles that always make you get butterflies in your stomach.
"Virgil," you start out in an innocent tone, but the mischievous gleam in your eyes does not escape him.
"Hm?" he answers without taking his eyes off you, curious.
"Could you... play badly against Arsenal?" you ask in a soft voice, almost as if you were proposing the most logical thing in the world. Hold a grin, knowing what his reaction will be.
Slowly, his right eyebrow rises. He looks at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, and for a moment there is only silence. Then he tilts his head to the side, his gaze becomes tighter and more penetrating.
"Wait, wait... what did you say?" he asks, his voice low and a hint of jealousy that shines through behind the jesting tone.
You shrug with an innocent expression, but you can’t hold back your smile.
"You know, if Liverpool loses to Arsenal, Chelsea has a better chance of getting back on the board. It’s not a big sacrifice, is it?" Add, touching his chest with fingers in an innocent and provocative gesture at the same time.
He stares at you intensely, his gaze is now deeper. He moistens his lips with his tongue and then shakes his head, letting out a brief incredulous laugh.
"Ah, so is that it? you’re more supportive of Chelsea than you are of me?" He replies with a calm voice, but his dark eyes hold you captive, full of silent jealousy that he had never openly admitted.
"Come on, baby, you know I’m a big fan of Chelsea," you say, putting your head against his shoulder. "That’s not new."
"I know," he replies slowly, his voice more raucous. He turns slightly, so that he looks you straight in the eye. "But that doesn’t mean I like it."
Feel his arm clench around you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder gives you a jolt. Your heart beats faster.
"Oh, are you jealous?" you ask, challenging him with a funny smile.
"Maybe a little," he admits with a slight grin, hid lips dangerously close to yours. "I don’t like it when you’re not rooting for me. Makes me think you don’t support me as well as you should."
"Oh, poor baby," you joke, trying to keep a defiance tone, but your voice goes down unconsciously. "Do I have to cheer for you when you play against my team?"
"Yes, that’s what I’m saying," he replies with a confident smile, his voice getting lower and more seductive. "You’re mine, aren’t you? Then you must cheer for me. Period."
You don’t have time to answer. Before you can open your mouth, he leans over you and kisses you with an overwhelming passion. His lips move with a decided sweetness, and the warmth of his kiss envelops you like a flame. A big hand slips behind your neck, fingers sink gently into your hair, locking you in that delicate but authoritative grip.
Your breath is broken, and your mind is empty instantly. The awareness of what you were trying to do disappears under the pressure of his lips against yours. Every logical reasoning gives way to that feeling of warmth that runs through you all.
Virgil interrupts the kiss for a moment, his eyes burning with intensity as he stares at you.
"I told you so," he whispers in his deeper voice than before. "I come before Chelsea."
You’re short of breath, warm cheeks, and your answer is a whisper you can barely utter.
"You are unbearable," murmurs, the eyes lost in his, the heartbeat accelerated.
"Yes, but I’m your unbearable," he counters with a triumphant grin, leaving you speechless.
You stare at him, trying to catch up, but the smile that lights his face makes you lose any desire to counter. You already know he won, and he knows better than you.
"So," he adds, tongue-licking as if he was still enjoying the kiss, "I will play against Arsenal. And not only will I play... but I’ll do everything to win. And you know what? When I score, my first thought will be you. My girl who cheers for Chelsea."
"Ah, you’re unbearable!" you exclaimed, laughing as you slap a light punch on his chest.
"You’ve said it before," he replies with a smile full of arrogance and affection at the same time. He holds you closer to him, his arms wrap you with that sure and stable force that you have always loved in him.
"I come before Chelsea, remember that," he whispers to your face and then kisses you again
The kiss becomes more passionate as Virgil explores your mouth with his tongue and you groan.
With a fluidity that leaves you breathless, Virgil lays you down on the couch gently, his big strong hands guiding you with sweetness and determination. It makes you lie down with a slowness that feels like safety and control. His body moves over yours with the grace of a sure predator of its prey. His eyes follow your every movement, his gaze burns with an intensity that makes you spin your head.
"Now don’t run," he whispers in that husky voice that makes your soul vibrate. His lips bend in a smile that drives you crazy, a promise and a challenge together.
His hands slowly caress you, sliding down your hips with a delicacy that contrasts with the strength of his movements. It keeps you still, but at the same time it makes you feel free. The beat of your heart accelerates, every sense is concentrated on him, on his touch, on every breath you feel against your skin.
"You’re too stubborn," he whispers against your lips, his warm breath tickling you. "But I like it that way."
And then he kisses you. But this time it’s different. It’s not a sudden or impetuous kiss. It’s slow, deep, studied. His lips move against yours with a precision that makes you lose your breath. Every second that passes, the world around you vanishes. There is no more television in the background, there is no more dim light in the room. It’s just you two.
His hands caress your face, thumbs trace little circles on your cheeks. Hi8s touch is so sweet that you almost cry. Yet there is a strength in that gesture, a silent promise. He holds you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and at that moment you feel just like that.
Feel the weight of his body against yours, not too heavy, but enough to make you feel protected, safe. His lips move more now, and your breath is mixed with his. Your fingertips run along his broad shoulders, tracing the line of his muscles. Every corner of his body is carved to perfection, and it seems almost unreal that it’s all yours.
"Tell me," he whispers against your lips, interrupting the kiss for just a moment. "Who comes first, me or Chelsea?" His voice is full of arrogant confidence, but his eyes are full of expectation. It’s not just a question, it’s a challenge.
Pretend to think about it, tilting your head slightly and biting your lip to hold a smile. "Let’s see..." Jokes, but you do not in time to finish the sentence that his lips return to claim you, more hungry than before.
"Wrong answer," he whispers against your mouth before kissing you again, and this time it’s more insistent, deeper. You find yourself letting go completely, your hands clinging to his back as the kiss becomes more intense. There is no Chelsea, no Premier League ranking. There is only Virgil, with his strength and his sweetness fused into one overwhelming embrace.
When he broke off the kiss, he turned you on your stomach and pulled out your pants and underwear leaving you naked in front of him, Virgil began to strip himself and sucked his dick on his hands to then rub you on your entrance making you groan.
You tried to push your hips back to feel more friction but he blocked you. " do the good blues" he said mocking you and then with a quick blow he put his dick inside of you.
You cried a whimper and your whole body felt weak for a moment. He grunted feeling you tight and took a handful of your hair to arch your back against his chest and started fucking you making you scream moaning.
You lowered your head on your shoulders, while leaning against his body. He looked at you and smiled when he saw your fucking face with his mouth open and kissed you ruddy as he kept fucking you.
You moaned even louder feeling his power and how he was filling you with his cock. "Chelsea comes first, huh?" he whisper to your ear, then nibble playfully on your lobe and you groan without giving him an answer.
Virgil put his hand on your pussy and started to insert a finger into your pussy and made it move as he began to increase his thrusts even faster.
You groaned, focusing on your pleasure and Virgil began to attack your neck with bites and kisses. " Answer me when I ask you a question" he said and gave you a push that made you bend on your legs on the couch.
He started to fuck you without stopping and you were screaming with pleasure his name. He grunted as you felt that you were close. "That’s fine," you whispers with a short breath as he is still fucking you. "You come first."
A triumphant smile lights up his face. "I know," he says, with that arrogance that drives you crazy. His lips touch your neck, leaving a trail of light kisses that make you shiver. "And I’ll remind you of it every time you try to forget it." He continued giving you a last shot by making you cum on his cock and he kept hitting you until he cummed inside of you.
"a blues girl who gets cum in her pussy held by a player of the Liverpool, that bad girl" he said jokingly.
I pull his dick out and you whimpered about the loss of contact. Virgil sat on the couch trying to catch his breath and you crawled over to him kissing him and he hugged you.
Synopsis: Virgil who likes to interact with fans by doing monthly streams to connect with his lively fanbase. The famous Liverpool captain that has a tough exterior and stands confidently at 6'4 playing games his followers recommended him. Who knew he was taken by such a sweet girl?
masterlist✿
You and Virgil often battled a long-distance relationship, spending scarce time with one another until you’d finally gotten the time to visit him in England. You knew about these monthly streams, often tuning in to them yourself whenever you got that notification on Twitch that ‘VVD Is Live!’
This time, it was different. Being able to be in England and around while he was streaming, seeing the footballer record in person. You two kept your relationship under wraps out of respect for you not wanting to be bombarded by media. Even though you showed up to his games— cheering like nobody was watching. Many speculated but could never staple a specific girl with his name. No way someone as handsome as him was simply not snatched up already.
“Hello everyone, welcome back to the stream of the month” His Dutch accent beginning to peek through when he speaks “Upon many requests, we’ll be playing Fortnite.” He says, defeat somewhat laced throughout his tone. It was his first time playing, hence the crazy amounts of asks for him to finally play the popular shooting game.
Ilovejoaofelix: How confident are you on a scale of 1-10?
“On a scale of 1-10? Minus thirty.” He bluntly stated whilst shaking his head slightly. “But I'm here to get better. I'm playing on an Xbox joystick today which is not my thing but... I'm no quitter!” You were just a room over, in the kitchen slightly hearing it all, but barely paying attention as you rather listened to the hum of your music playing softly in the background. Earlier before you two part ways so he could start his stream, you agreed on making dinner in the time span that he played.
Making a somewhat simple dinner but something that was enough for both of you to sit down and enjoy a meal. So, in that case, you reluctantly decided to cook fettucine alfredo. You preferred shrimp in yours, chicken in his but where the chicken resided was the question. Being away for so long doesn’t help you answer that question any easier either. You didn’t want to approach the room, but the decision was seriously making you consider it.
After some standing around you finally began your quiet footsteps to the room that he has reserved for both gaming and whenever he decides to turn on that camera of his. “Wait, I'm stuck in a bush guys—” The slight creak of the sliding door made him glance over and knowingly, he looked back at his stream. “Hold on guys.” He stayed where he was in the game, stuck in a bush before muting himself. Or so, he thought. “Yes schat?” he answered towards you. “I couldn’t remember how you like your chicken on the pasta so...” You trailed off, waiting for him to tell you. “Just on top is fine, thank you love”
You nodded, almost closing the door and leaving him alone until you remembered just one more question “And when will you be done?” He pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie, checking his watch that adorned his wrist. “In 30 minutes or so? I shouldn’t be long” That was it. You returned the door back to its original resting place and headed back into the kitchen to plate his food. If only you knew.
Virgil cleared his throat and turned back towards his stream to press unmute, but there was never anything to press which he noticed rather quickly. He literally never muted himself and when he glanced at the chat, his mouth opened just slightly, shock coloring his face.
Kykymbappe10: Big Virg got a girl hold up?????
BenchedEndrick: WHO WAS THAT
Thegoatmessi: Wait her voice was tea tho
Trinrodmanfan: My man is taken?????
“Sorry guys, I'm afraid I'll have to end the stream early today” The chat only exploded more. He wouldn’t be able to recover from such a moment and certainly he couldn’t let you know right now. To be fair, he did always want to go public, but he respected your wishes time and time again without question.
The stream ended without another thought, and he stepped out of the room he was itching to get out of since he faced the camera again. “You’re finished?” You asked with confusion. “Yeah... I died so I figured there was no point in staying on for a whole extra hour” He rubbed the nape of his neck as his tall figure made an easy appearance in the kitchen, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.
“Hm, okay” You didn’t seem to have a problem with it. That just meant you could spend even more time with your man.
Warnings: little bit of smut. It's my first time writing smut so it's not that good. 😭
WC: 737 words.
Summary: a small confusion.
Divider made up by: @suupersonic
Virgil left the house in the morning, saying he would be back early and that he only had a meeting with his teammates. Over the past few days, the two of you had been able to spend more time together since he had a few extra days off.
You slept until 11 in the morning. When you woke up, you had a cereal for breakfast. You were tired because of the previous night, which had been intense with your husband. After watching a couple of episodes of "Gilmore Girls" , you heard someone knocking at the door.
You got to your feet and walked over to open it, finding a delivery man carrying a huge bouquet of flowers filled with lilies, hydrangeas, roses, and tulips.
You smiled at the man, and he spoke softly. “Good afternoon, I just need you to sign here.” You nodded and did as he asked. After signing, you took the bouquet and carried it to the dining room. You looked for a note, but there wasn’t one. You removed the ribbon and the paper holding the flowers together, filled a vase with water, and arranged the flowers inside.
You decided you wouldn’t thank Virgil until he get home, so you didn’t put anything on your stories or send him a message. Nothing. Instead, you decided to clean the house, cook lunch, and try something new by making a lemon pie.
Virgil sent you a message saying he’d be a little later getting home. He said he needed to stop by the supermarket. You still decided not to mention the flowers. Maybe he was expecting your thanks in person. You set your phone down on the table and continued making the lemon pie cream.
The front door opened, and Virgil stepped inside, leaving his shoes by the door. He found you serving the food you had prepared. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, leaving kisses along your neck before placing one on your cheek.
“Did you buy flowers today?” you heard your husband ask. You frowned and turned around to look at him. “Didn’t you send them?” Virgil shook his head. That’s when you understood why he hadn’t mentioned them at all.
You slipped out of his embrace and walked back over to the flowers. Maybe there had been a note hidden among them, and you simply hadn’t looked carefully. And indeed, there was a note tucked away, but it only said they were from a secret admirer.
“This is weird. Virgil, it really wasn’t you?” He stepped closer and shook his head. “I’m completely sure, my love.” But you could tell he was smiling as he buried his face in your neck, he was trying to hold a laugh. “It was you.” You gave him a gentle smack on the chest and smiled. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh before admitting defeat.
“I wanted to play a prank on you. Don’t be mad at me.”A pout formed on your lips, and he took the opportunity to kiss them. “You’re an idiot.” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He knew exactly what you wanted and lifted you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist.“Well, then I’ll be your idiot.”
He started kissing your neck, devouring it. You hummed with a smile as you took off his shirt. Virgil took you to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. “Ride me, babe.” A moan escaped your lips as you undid his belt. His pants came off, and you lifted your skirt, moved your panties to the side, and introduced his cock into your cunt.
“Fuck, it’s too much,” you cried with a pout. He smirked, holding your hips to set the pace. Virgil helped you move by holding you by the waist. Your moans and his grunts became louder. You spent a long time riding him. He brought his thumb to your clitoris, and you felt like you were seeing stars. The pressure in your stomach grew stronger until you felt it suddenly disappear.
Virgil, meanwhile, was trying to cum. He kept the pace with your hips, and then you felt a hot liquid inside your pussy. “This was sooo good,” you said in a muffled voice.
You knew this was just the start of a long night…
When the sun came out you stand up and walk to where the flowers were. You took a lillie in your hand and smiled, you would definitely return this prank to Virgil, probably in a meaner one.
summary: in which there's no better place for Olivia to find heat than in her husband's arms
author's note: listening to Frozen by Sabrina Claudio inspired me i guess. here's a small late Christmas gift from me
word count: 262 (it's really short, omgggg)
The smell of fresh baked sweets escaped from the cabin as people went around Liverpool’s Christmas market.
Above the mass, Virgil stood looking around the different food stands. His left hand was stuffed in his jacket pocket as the other was tangled with Olivia’s, his wife, as they walked synchronically through the market aisles.
The couple’s favourite time of the year was around. They had decided to spend the evening out, walking around and admiring the Christmas lights. The two had been engulfed by the Christmas spirit soon as they walked in the city’s market.
“Oli, look what’s there ?” Virgil pointed on the left with a smile.
Olivia’s eyes darted towards where her husband’s arm headed. Her eyes lit as she saw a sweet stand. Ever since their first time at the market they always had to stop and buy shortbread biscuits. And this year was no different.
They walked towards the cabin, getting in the queue of people. As they waited, they looked at the different biscuits displayed. Virgil could feel his wife’s hand tug harder on his as she held his arm with the other.
“If you’re cold, just say it” Virgil let out a chuckle while he wrapped both of his arms around Olivia. He held her as close as he could, leaving a few kisses on her neck.
Olivia mumbled a small “thank you love” before closing her eyes, taking in her husband’s scent. She relaxed in his hold, soothed by his breathing as their bodies swayed to the sound of nothing, searching for some sort of heat.
like, repost and request if you want (hope you enjoyed it)
virgil van dijk anon here!!!! can you write age gap + height difference + size kink please 🌞
yes!
—
because i think he loves a little cockwarming session after a match. he’s just too tired to give you a good fucking. you’re his good girl though, so you sit on his lap facing him as your cunt sucks him in.
“mmm. you always know how to make daddy feel good baby.” he says running his fingers up and down your spine.
all you can do is nuzzle your face into his neck and whine, because while he’s perfectly content, you’re trying your hardest to stay calm. virgil is just stretching you so damn good and the position puts him so deep it feels like he’s sitting under your rib cage. and even though you know he’s tired, you are starting to squirm.
“be good and stay still for me” he says tightening the grip on your hip.
“can’t it feels too good” you says rocking harder against him.
and frankly virgil has had enough; all he wanted to do was relax after his match, but you are just so damn cock hungry and he’s too hard to do this.
“fine, since you’re so damn impatient.” he moves his other hand to you hip and picks you up on his lap, pulling you off his cock.
and before you can complain about the emptiness virgil slams you back down on to his dick. he digs the balls of his feet into the floor to push as deep into you as possible, but now that’s not enough for him. no, you’re just the right size for him to do whatever he wants with you.
hugging you at the waist virgil stands up, never once stopping his thrust. and “f-fuck does this feel good.”
“yeah, you love when i bounce you on my dick, when i make you take it all.” he says panting
you’re about to cum, already close from the fullness of the cockwarming. his thrust are making his pelvis hit your clit so nicely every time he bounces you and “oh my gosh” do you start to shake against him, tightening your arms around your boyfriend.
suddenly he’s coming too, feeling you squeezing so tight around his cock, pulling your hips tight to his, resting you back on the sofa. he stays there for a moment gently rocking into you as his cum pours into your pussy.
“mm, you can pull out now baby.” you says when his thrusts come to a halt.
covering your whole body with his virgil kisses the tip of your ear and whispers, “daddy’s not done cumming baby.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
hey anonny, here ya go! hope this tickles your fancy
my requests are still open so feel free to send more my way!
notes: just a small lil something that i wrote after having two dreams about this man this past week 😵💫 girlie works on the media team and virgil is a respectful king. pretty much just some wholesomeness that i jotted down when i was shamelessly daydreaming hehe. ✨🧡
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
she’d been trying not to think about him.
the moment she'd slipped off her heels and closed her hotel room door, she'd promised herself she was going to do her skincare routine, climb into bed and get a decent night's sleep before the tournament began the next day. as part of the media team, she knew she had some long days coming up, and the last thing she needed was to be up all night in her head before the world cup officially kicked off tomorrow.
and yet, to her complete dismay, she found herself standing in front of the long mirror opposite her big plush hotel bed, fingertips hooked beneath the zip of her long silk dress, replaying the evening for what had to be the fifth time.
it had started with the seating plan.
the staff and players had been deliberately mixed around the long tables so everyone had the chance to mingle before the intensity of the competition took over. she’d done her best to smile politely when she'd found the little place card with her name beside virgil's, pretending it didn't affect her in the slightest.
inside, though, her heart had given an embarrassingly big leap.
she'd reminded herself it was just a seating plan. someone had shuffled a stack of name cards together and, completely by chance, she'd ended up beside the captain of the netherlands.
he'd greeted her with his usual perfect smile, softening the serious look he carried so effortlessly on his perfectly defined face.
“i was hoping i'd end up next to someone that didn’t want to talk tactics all night.” his voice was just as she'd remembered it from countless interviews she'd filmed over the last few months; calm and deep enough to often make her forget what she'd been about to say.
she let out a small laugh. “there’ll be none of that from me, i promise.”
their conversation had flowed with surprising ease after that. they'd spoken about the flight over, the massive american portions that had arrived at the table, the unbearable humidity outside, and the feeling of being so far from home while preparing for the biggest tournament in football.
virgil was a popular man and so every few minutes, somebody further down the table would pull him into another conversation. players asking questions, staff making jokes, someone wanting his opinion on something. but every single time, somehow, his attention drifted back to her.
and when virgil listened, he really listened.
he looked at her as though whatever she was saying deserved his full attention, his head tilting ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting whenever she laughed. every now and then she'd catch him looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite place. almost like he was intrigued, and wanted to know more.
he listened with a kind of quiet attentiveness that somehow made her feel as though she was the only person at the table, despite the contestant loud noise of chatter in the background.
she'd spent the last four months telling herself he was just a kind person and that was all.
unfortunately, she'd also spent the last four months noticing things she really hadn't meant to.
she'd noticed how he thanked every waiter who topped up his water.
she'd noticed how he always made sure the quieter members of staff were included in conversations.
she'd noticed how he rolled his sleeves up exactly twice whenever they finished filming content after training.
small things, but she remembered them all.
at one point she was talking with her hands, something she'd always done whenever she was nervous, and managed to knock her napkin off her lap and onto the floor.
"i've got it.” virgil had said immediately, reaching down to grab the napkin.
as he lent down, his clothed knee bushed up against hers, sending an unexpected warmth through her body. he retrieved the napkin, and quickly debated if he should place it straight back onto her lap, quickly deciding to instead hand it to her. their fingers briefly grazed each others and neither of them pulled away as quickly as they should, eventually she readjusted the napkin back into her lap and virgil cleared his throat, someone from across the table capturing his attention as they spoke up to him.
she spent the rest of the dinner trying very hard not to think about how ridiculous it was that such an innocent touch had lingered with her for the rest of the evening.
a sharp knock at the hotel room door pulled her back to the present.
“oh - fuck.”
startled, she instinctively tugged at the zip of her dress again.
the fabric jammed causing the zip to get caught, unable to move up or down.
she hissed through her teeth. “well that’s just brilliant."
the knock came again, gentler this time but anger filled her at who was perstiantly knocking on her door at this hour.
luckily she hadn’t managed to pull the zipper down much at all, so she could answer the door with her modesty still protected.
she wandered over to the door, expecting to be greeted with a hotel guest who'd had one too many drinks and wandered to the wrong room.
when she opened the door, all she saw at first was an expensive black suit stretched across an impressively broad chest.
her eyes travelled upwards.
and upwards.
virgil stood in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame, somehow making the already spacious hotel corridor feel considerably smaller. he'd loosened his tie since dinner and the top button of his shirt was now undone, allowing her to catch a peak of his bare chest.
the annoyance she'd felt moments earlier vanished instantly.
with one hand tucked into the pocket of his suit trousers, virgil quickly spoke before she could. “sorry to distrub you.”
“what’s up?” she spoke softly, hoping she sounded far calmer than she felt.
he rubbed his hand awkwardly at the back of his neck. “i’ve lost my key and the lift to go down to reception won’t work unless i swipe a key card.” she stood there for a moment taking in his features, perhaps for a moment too long.
her heart jumped. surely he could’ve gone to any of his teammates rooms. staff he had known for years. but instead he had gone to hers.
don’t be silly, she thought to herself. yours was probably just the closest room to his. it doesn’t mean anything.
she shook herself from her little daydream.
“oh, so you want to borrow mine.” she spoke mostly to herself.
“if you wouldn’t mind.” virgil bit his bottom lip.
“of course!” she walked over to her dresser where she had threw down her bag and room key, retrieving it and walking back over to virgil.
“are you… okay?” virgil asked, his eyes drifting briefly behind her shoulder.
she furrowed her brows.
“your dress…” he pointed.
“oh, that.” heat shot to her cheeks, immediately feeling embarrassed. “i’ve kind of got myself stuck in my dress. the zipper is stuck.”
he let out a small chuckle, seeing how flustered she had got.
“would you like some help?” he questioned, and her tummy dipped at the thought of him helping her out of her dress. “i’m sure i can unjam the zip.” he spoke and for one utterly unhelpful second her imagination abandoned her completely. she tried to quickly attempt to brush away the thoughts of him undoing the dress, delicately pulling the fabric from her skin, how he would effortlessly pick up her body and take her over to the bed…
“y/n?” virgil spoke after a moment of her not replying, keen to ensure he had not make her feel uncomfortable.
“huh?” she quickly tried to pull herself together. “oh, er, yeah - yes please.” she turned away so her back was to him, and as he approached, she could feel his large body towering over hers.
he reached out, his long fingers gently brushing her hair out of the way and over her shoulder.
he moved closer but tried to be careful to leave some space, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.
"i think it's caught in the lining," she murmured.
"i can see it.”
his hand hovered for a second.
“may i?” he asked and her heart did a little jump in her chest, mumbling out a small ‘yes’ in reply.
she could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric as he steadied it, careful not to put too much pressure on her body.
his fingers found the tiny metal pull, brushing against the bare skin that was revealed at the top of her back for the briefest moment. tingles raised on her body, and she had to concentrate worryingly hard on keeping her breathing steady.
“i’m sorry.” he mumbled, conscious he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.
she let out a small laugh, letting him know it was okay. “you don’t need to apologise.”
"i'd rather apologise too much than not enough.” he spoke confidently and she could’ve sworn she could’ve fell to her knees.
that quiet respect she'd noticed from the day she was first introduced to him was as evident as ever. he never presumed nor pushed. never made anyone feel uncomfortable.
after fiddling around a little, virgil skilfully steadied the fabric gently with one hand and managed to ease the zip free with his other.
once he was done, his thumb lingered on the zip pull for half a heartbeat before immediately dropping his hand.
"there." the fastening slid smoothly against her back. “all fixed. you should be able to reach the rest yourself.” he made sure not to pull the zip too far down so she would still be covered by her dress.
she turned slowly to face him. he was now standing much closer than she'd realised. without the noise of the restaurant around them, he somehow seemed less like the captain everyone admired and more like the man she'd found herself looking for in crowded rooms over the past few months.
his dark eyes met hers before they drifted away shyly, and something in that interaction gave him the confidence to say what he said next.
“i wanted to tell you something all evening.”
"oh?" she replied, her tummy dipping at what he could be about to say.
“i wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight." he spoke confidently, almost like it was a fact, his brown eyes meeting hers once more.
her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t help a small smile from creeping onto her face.
"but i didn't want to overstep the mark…” he spoke quickly, hoping he had read the situation correctly.
she took a step closer to him for a second before tilting her head.
“well..." his brow lifted expectantly. "if i tell you how incredibly handsome you look in that suit..." she said, a teasing smile playing at her lips, "...i suppose that makes us equally inappropriate."
relief filled virgil and a low chuckle left his throat. “i think that would make it fair.”
the moment of silence that followed wasn't awkward, months of stolen glances and small interactions replaying in their minds.
"i’ve been trying very hard to make sure i never put you in an uncomfortable position." he admitted after a moment.
she looked at him, her heart squeezing in her chest a little.
"i know."
"i wasn't sure if you did."
"i thought..." she laughed softly at herself. "i thought i’d imagined all the smiles. our little chats, the way you always seemed to find me after training."
his smile returned, smaller this time.
"none of those were accidental."
she lowered her eyes, unable to hide her own smile spreading across her face.
"that's nice to know."
he hesitated, almost as though he was weighing up whether to ask the next question.
"when all of this is over..." he said quietly, "...when we're home and we're not surrounded by cameras and our busy schedules…”
she looked back up.
"...would you let me take you to dinner?"
she didn't answer straight away, simply enjoying the fact that he'd asked. not assumed. asked.
Sunday is what you called a "family day". Your partner, SAM MONROE, was banned from using any form of electronics, basically forced to spend quality time with his family, and especially, the little boy sleeping in the next room.
So naturally you had woken up extra early to get ready. Supposedly you were meant to go to the park, maybe get some ice cream, tire Vincent out.. but, as Sundays make people be lazy, you weren't speeding yourself to do anything. That's why the curtains were half drawn, letting in just enough light to wash the bedroom in soft golden hues. It’s warmth spread all over the room while your legs tangled with Sam’s, his arm slung around your waist during his sleep.
Yet you weren't really cuddled to Sam's side. All because, nestled right in the middle, squished between your chest and the blankets like a baby burrito, was Vinnie, dressed in his little pastel-stripped jammies you inherited from your old friend who's child was too big to fit the clothing..Your baby with his morning curls and that sweet warm smell of sleep radiating off his skin, your baby who had somehow wormed his way into the bed while it was still dark and refused to leave your side ever since.
Right now, his tiny hand was stroking your cheek. The softest little pats following around like he was trying to memorize your face but at the same time be as gentle as he could. Then, in the quietest, most serious whisper, he breathed, “...You so pwetty.”
Your heart straight-up exploded. “Yeah?” you whispered back, before you couldnt take it anymore and let your lips brushing his forehead.
Vinnie nodded solemnly, eyes huge and shining with sleepy love. “So pwetty. Wike… wike angle..”
You choked on a laugh “You mean angel?"
Naturally, he nodded "yeh..angle"
Your expression immediately softened. He was such a cute little bean, spreading his sunshine across the world. "You're such a sweetheart, baby" you whispered, still having in mind that there was one more person in the bed who wasn't such morning person like some might have thought.
At your words vincent beamed, before leaning in and smacking a sloppy, wet, open-mouthed kiss right on your nose. Proudness beamed off of him and he was right about to sau something but right then an unmistakable low groan was what could be heard
Vinnie froze, his litrle hands moving to grab at your shirt like he was about to be stolen...
“Uh oh...” he whispered, right up to your ear. At that you couldn't really keep any act anymore. Trying to remain as quiet as you could (even though your boyfriend was clearly waking up), you giggled.
“...Thammy gwumpy.”
“Mm-hm,” you whispered, nodding solemnly.
“Thammy need mo' nap.” As if summoned, Sam cracked one eye open, glaring at the both of you like a man betrayed by his own family. “I’m literally in bed,” he muttered.
Vinnie quickly ducked under the blanket like he was under attack. “Shhh,” he shushed at you. “Thammy monstew”. You quickly followed his lead and let your expression change into a serious mockingness. Sam on the other hand let out a low sigh and blindly reached for his kid, dragging him up with one arm until Vinnie was flopped half-on his chest, half still clinging to you. His baby body stretched like a noodle between his two favorite people as shrieks filled the room. Obviously he wasnt expecting to be snatched without any warning so his pinky lips opened wildly in pure shock and concern.
Vinnie blinked up at him then back at you with big eyes. He didnt speak for a moment, still shaken up from what just happened. Should he fight back? Would Sam do something? Or worse, would he tickle..?
“You still gwumpy?”
Sam grunted. “What a stupid question..”
Vinnie patted his arm. “Dat’s otay Thammy. I still wuv you.”
