★

19, bi, she/her

[c1eepypas1a]

My Sully!oc who is the twin sister of neteyam but they look nothing alike for some reason, she's shorter in stature, sharper teeth and has four fingers instead of three, and is rounder, with a slight hourglass and thicker thighs, she is 3 hours younger then him, a clan mystery since Neytiri did not know it was twins,

My Sully!oc who's patterns are exactly the same as her fathers, a mystery since they are the same from her forehead to her feet, exactly like Jakes but her bioluminescent dots are so unique, like waves on her body

My Sully!oc who has very curly hair (like yours truly) and doesn't wear it in braids but has five small braids in her hair, behind her ears, two on one side and three on the other, small but with the hair of neteyam's, lo'ak's, kiri's, tuks and even spiders braided into it,

My Sully!oc who has yellow eyes but it's mixed with a beautiful shade of green, which makes her somehow even more human looking,

My Sully!oc who isn't afraid to speak up against her father when he's too harsh on her siblings, who would kill for her family and spider, but is her father's daughter, best friends since day one, (he will never admit but he loves her the most)

My Sully!oc who has a scar on her chin (again like me cause why not) which at first she thought was ugly as a kid, who never thought she'd be beautiful but now embraces,

My Sully!oc who's ikran is the same colors as toruk because she loves her dad so much she wants to be like him and names her mai'kan (yes I made that up),

My Sully!oc who falls in love with a Aonung but beats his ass when lo'ak and all the guys started fighting because she may be 7'0 but will beat anyone up,

My Sully!oc who has a siren/succubus like ability because she believes it is eywas will, who - when she was captured by a group of human men who tried to make moves on her and she skinned and literally ripped the spine out of one,

My Sully!oc who has a healing ability, where when neteyam when shot, she connected their kuru's (because I headcanon that twin na'vi's connect their kuru's at birth, before a mother does, and heals him),

My Sully!oc who hunts down and kills Lyle wainfleet when she sees in neteyam's memories that Lyle shot him,

My Sully!oc who doesn't let varang escape after almost killing her mother and kills her by repeatedly punching her in the face/skull until she is pulled away by her father, who holds her whilst staring at varang's caved in face, wondering what happened to his little girl that made her go so violent -

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

ugh she's so beautiful I wish I could draw but unfortunately I do not posses those qualities 😢😢, low-key will make more of these about my different oc's, I didn't give any of my Na'vi oc's braids, I know that they have braids but I'm Greek so I didn't wanna give her like braids neytiri or neteyam has!!

(her bioluminescent dots are in this pattern!! But more pronounced dots!!)

[maladaptivedreamer24]

Brooklyn Baby 𐙚⋆˖⁺‧♡

Pairing: bf!castiel x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, sub!cas, needy!cas

You have to shush Castiel more often than you would like. After all, the bunker walls are thin.

You watched as the Angel removed his heavy trench coat for you. He knew you liked it when he looked vulnerable, tie loosened, white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned.

You stepped closer and put your hands on his shoulders, Cas melted into your touch. As much as he loved to please you, the angel could never turn down being sprawled out on the bed, panting and desperate under you.

His head leaned into yours, like his body knew where it needed to be. You reached a hand behind his head, mussing up his hair and pressing your lips to his. His hands landed on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss became increasingly passionate.

His soft little groans into your mouth sent fire to your core, he was so unashamed to be needy for you. So good for you.

You felt his tongue ask permission at your lips, and instead you pushed him back into the bed.

He flopped on his back, legs clearly weak. His eyes looked hazy and lust-blown. His knees spread slightly apart already. You crawled on top of him, straddling his hips tightly and removing your tank top. Arching your back and watching as he licked his lips.

The movement emphasized his growing erection. You unclipped your bra and let it slip to the floor, finally leaning down to kiss him, feeling as he slightly lifted himself up to kiss you.

Your tongues swirled around each other, lips intertwined in a messy, passionate kiss. His arousal must have been painful for him, pressing expectantly against your core. You pushed him down by his shoulder and heard him whine quietly. You removed yourself from his lap and unbuckled his belt, loving the way he just laid there and let you unclothe him.

You carefully unzipped his dress slacks and pulled them down with his white underwear. His dick slapped against his stomach as you did so, making your mouth water.

You put your hands on his muscular thighs, squeezing as you pushed them apart and gave a gentle kiss to his tip. Cas let out a soft sigh, clearly wanting more.

You let him push himself up to rest his back against the wooden headboard, biceps flexing as he did so. You swirling your tongue around the tip, feeling the moisture of precum escape his cock. Cas chest rose and fell faster as you gave three flicks to his tip.

He groaned again.

“Please”

You paused and looked up at the beautiful sight before you. Cas sprawled out on the bed for you, hair messed up, sweat gathering on his forehead, skin slightly revealed by his half undone shirt.

Angels really are a work of art, you thought to yourself.

You licked up from the bottom of his shaft, noticing how his hands clenched at his sides. You gently sank your lips further down on his dripping cock.

“Mmmff” He groaned.

You used your hand to fondle his balls and you felt him thicken in your mouth, he tasted so good.

You began to bop your head up and down, letting him put a hand in your hair to guide you. You felt him hit the back on your throat, and his head fell back against the headboard. His hips lifted off the bed to thrust into your mouth as your pace quickened.

Soon enough Cas was a grunting, moaning mess. He was rutting into your mouth, chasing his high. You felt his muscles clench as he gave three final thrusts into your mouth, mouth opening to let out a moan.

You quickly reached up to put a hand over his mouth as he groaned loudly into your palm, spurts of cum shooting down your throat.

His hips finally rested back onto the bed. You licked the last drop off of his perfectly pink tip, watching the adam's apple bob in his throat.

You crawled back over him, feeling heat radiate off of his skin. He numbly kissed you, tasting himself on you. Big, rough hands landed on your back as you straddled his lap again.

“Mmmm”

You giggled.

“I’ll take it that you liked it Cas?”

“Very much, yes”

You giggle again as he smushes himself against you like he was cuddling a teddy bear.

[ogeneraloito]

Homelander, bloodied and on his knees begging to fucking suck Butcher's dick on live TV, please.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

give me fever

✦Bucky Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!✦

✦summary: you and Bucky hate each other, so it's not unusual for him to act cold around you. but this is differant. this is... feral. and you're starting to wonder what's wrong✦

✦warnings/tags: bucky barnes x female!reader, enemies to lovers, ragebating Bucky Barnes, emotional angst, everyone's bad at feelings, fluff, sex pollen, sex pollen level smut, a little plot for the porn (dry humping, manhandling, bucky's feral, emotional sex, dry orgasm, truly foul dirty talk, hyperspermia, pussy eating like crazy, fingering, dumbification, dirty talk, sensitive reader, finger sucking, bucky gets nasty, body worship, overstimulation, sex pollen stamnia, mean!bucky, oral f!recieving, begging, praise kink, monster dick bucky, he fucks like a machine, breeding kink), no use of y/n, no descrption of reader✦

✦wc: 11.1k✦

✦Author's Note: i'm so normal about sex pollen✦

It doesn’t bother you. If you tell yourself enough, you’re really going to believe that it doesn’t bother you.

But he’s everywhere. 

There isn’t a corner of the damn building without Bucky Barnes. You go to the kitchen and he’s there making a sandwich, watching you move around the counter like he thinks you’re going to bite him. In the gym he’s at the weights and the punching bags, and you try to ignore him but he grunts and moans and you think he’s doing it on purpose. the living area he takes over the TV and watches whatever he wants to catch up with the times. No matter how politely you ask him to switch to something else, he always tells you to just wait. Then you try, but he’s spread out on the couch until your knees have to bump, and your face gets all hot, and you have to stomp away before you start acting on all your stupid thoughts.

Because it’s not just Bucky’s eternal presence and stubbornness and smirking that burrows under your skin. It’s that you like it.

That when you’re next to him on the couch, all you can think about is that place where your body’s connect. He’s warm. Tall and warm. Your skin tingles at the contact point, and whenever he shifts it’s like you’re being shot up with a drug.

“You’re squirmy.” He grumbles, glaring at you in the dark. “No one ever teach you to sit still?”

You stick your tongue out. “No one ever teach you to mind your own business?”

“Hard to mind my business when you’re movin’ all the cushions, doll-“

“Then go sit somewhere else, robot man.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches. “I’m not a robot.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not-“

“You act like one.” You snap, and Bucky closes his eyes. Like he’s fucking praying.

“I was here first.” He mutters. You don’t balk.

“Congratulations.”

You hold his glare, and Bucky lets out a heavy breath through his nose. He narrows his eyes, tongue flicking over his lips. His full lips. Pretty and chapped, but in the perfect, soft way-

Get a fucking grip.

“There’s a chair over there.” You point across the room, sinking back into the cushions. “Go sit in it, if I’m so squirmy.”

Bucky scowls, and opens his mouth, but whatever jab he’s got for you, you don’t want to hear it. You reach over and unpause the movie—probably another one of Sam’s this is what you gotta catch up on, Barnes suggestions, because there’s no way Bucky picked out the Goonies himself—and fix your glower on the TV screen. You hate this movie. You’re going to watch it all the way through, just to show Bucky that he doesn’t bother you.

You spread your own legs wide, too. If men are allowed to do it, so are you. Bucky grunts as your knee pushes over his thigh, and you smirk at the TV.

It has nothing to do with the thick muscle you can feel under his sweatpants, that you keep your legs like that for the rest of the night. Bucky’s fingers flex a few times, and brush over the inner curve of your knee and the top of your thigh, like he’s thinking about just shoving you away. At one point, you hear him grunt, and look over with mockingly raised brows.

“Everything okay?” You almost simper, and he grunts and nods.

That’s all you get. Bucky fixes his anger on the movie, you win this round, and you get to be close to him without thinking about it.

You’ll think about it later. In the comfort of your own bedroom, you’ll think about it and think about it and think about it all night. You’ll think about it until your wrist hurts. But Bucky doesn’t get to know that.

As far as he needs to be concerned, you never spare him a second thought. It’s all he spares you. And you’re not going to be the pathetic girl who falls for someone who only thinks of her as a buzzing gnat around his head. Who worships the ground of a man who would step on her like a flower into concrete, not because he was seeking to hurt, but just because he didn’t notice you were there at all.

Although Bucky does seem to notice where you are.

The farmer does like to keep track of pests in his crops.

“You skipped the mission briefing.” Bucky grunts in the morning, glaring at you over a cup of coffee.

Something soft in you swells like a prodded bruise. He noticed where you were.

You ignore it in favor of flipping him off.

“I was busy.”

“Too busy for your job?”

“It’s not my job-“

“Your name was on the roster.” Bucky slams the folder down on the table, and your lips twitch.

“Have you been carrying that around all day?”

“That doesn’t matter-“

“Yes, it really does-“

Bucky hisses your name. There’s a fury under his tone, that makes your mouth snap shut. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You need to be there, Steve was talkin’ about safety shit, and if you don’t know it you could get killed-“

“I know how mission briefing work, I’ve been here longer than you have-“

“Really? ‘Cause you don’t act like it-“

“I don’t act like it?” You snort. “Last I checked I’m ranked higher than you, Sargent.” You raise your chin, letting your lips curl. “Which is why I’m allowed to defer missions, and you’re not.”

Bucky blinks, recoiling slightly. “Defer? What, you-“

“I’m skipping.” You shrug, grabbing an apple from the counter. “And if I’m skipping, I don’t need to be at the briefing. But thanks for checking on me, dad.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. You expect him to snap something about experience and you not being responsible enough or needing to care more.

But instead his fists curl and uncurl at his side. His nostrils flare. He grabs the counter, his scowl burning right through you. You take a large bite of your apple, and his gaze darts down. Juice drips down your chin, and you wipe it off with light fingers. That only seems to make him angrier.

“Why’re you skipping.”

You shrug. You should say none of your business. But part of you is childish. A very big, loud part that wants him to react to something you know he isn’t actually going to care about.

“I have a date.”

“A what.” It’s not a full reaction. He’s mostly staring at you like he didn’t understand the word. Maybe they called it something different in the 40s.

“A date?” You roll your eyes, a little meaner than you mean to be. He always bring that out in you, though.

Bucky always brings everything out in you. It’s incredibly annoying.

“You know.” You push mockingly. “Where you go out with someone. And flirt like people, instead of robots.”

“Robots flirt.” Bucky grunts, and you snort.

“Yeah, but they don’t have sex-“

The counter cracks. It’s loud, echoing through the kitchen. You start and twitch, and Bucky blinks at his metal hand, like he’s just as surprised as you are. He looks back to you, shakes his head, and takes a large step back.

“What’s-“

“Steve’s callin’ me.” He mutters, and you blink.

“No, he’s not-“

“Have fun.” Bucky ignores you. His words sound pushed through his teeth. “On your human date.”

Then he’s gone.

And you’re left in the kitchen with your apple and a cracked counter, staring at where he’d vanished through the door. You don’t care about the date.

You just need to know what the fuck that was.

There’s a part of you that feels bad, for the man Natasha set you up with. She’d picked him out specifically because he had a vague resemblance to Bucky—because you’ve never told her your secret, but you didn’t need to, she’s Natasha—but it wasn’t enough.

He didn’t have the underlying accent, or the gleam in his eyes. You made a sharper edged joke, and he just laughed. He didn’t spar. He didn’t push your buttons in a way that made you light up. He just smiled at you all night—wrong smile, too—and then didn’t pay. Bucky would’ve paid.

You have no evidence of that. It’s just a feeling, that comes from how he still opens doors for you, even when you’re at each other’s throats. All polite and handsome and insufferable. You hate him.

And there’s not a single point during the night, where you’re not thinking about him.

“We should do this again.” The Date—you’ve forgotten his name, and it’s certainly not a good time to ask—says at the end of the night.

You’re shivering. Bucky would’ve offered you his jacket. He did once, on a mission in the Andes. You got all cold and he rolled his eyes and muttered that he told you to bring another layer, but still gave you his jacket all the same. This man is just grinning at you after not calling you a cab and saying he wanted to stand outside in the misty, chilly night. He said he wanted fresh air, and now your freezing, and he thinks he’s getting a second date.

At the very least, you feel a little less guilty about only thinking of Bucky and the mission the whole time. He deserved it.

“Sure.” You smile, because even with superstrength, it’s easier to tell a man yes and then vanish than it is to deny them to their face. “Have a good night.”

He tries to hug you. Your phone buzzes, and you duck away to check it.

The mission is over.

Two days early.

Your jaw tightens.

Most people would think that a job being done early is a good thing. That it means the team was just so focused and coordinated that they sped through every single step, and ended in a total victory. But you’ve been on this job too long. Early mission conclusions only ever happen for one reason.

Something went wrong, and they have to come back.

You rush back to the compound with barely a goodnight to the Date. It’s mostly because you forget, in the blur of worry. You’d skimmed the mission files before they left, just to make sure it wasn’t anything too dangerous. Bucky had been mad about you not going with them. Maybe he’d thought they’d need the hands, but it had just looked like a retrieval mission. Old Hydra facility with some data Tony wanted. Nothing too hard.

But they’re back early.

And if someone’s hurt, you could’ve stopped it. You could’ve been there, instead of on that stupid fucking date. Which also means that Bucky was right, and that’s incredibly annoying. He’s going to weild it over your head, and the mocking is going to turn you on more, and you’ll have earned it which isn’t going to help anything at all. 

You get back to the compound, and it’s not in lockdown. There aren’t med staff flooding the grounds or emergency sirens blaring. You go right to the hanger, and find that it’s already been cleared out. The jet isn’t being quarantined.

Maybe they really did just… Finish early.

You’re heading back to your room when you slam right into them.

Steve and Bucky, standing in the middle of the hall, arguing in hushed voices.

“You need to go, Buck-“

“I’m fine-“

“No, you’re not. You can lie to the docs, don’t lie to me-“

“I ain’t lyin’, I’m fine-“

Your too lost in your own head, barely even hearing what they’re saying. You barrel straight into Bucky’s back.

He goes rigid. You stumble a little, and he grabs your upper arm.

His hand is hot.

Not sexy hot—although it’s also that—but literally, physically hot. Almost searing, against your shivering skin. You look up at him, and swallow.

He’s flushed. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and an exhausted shadow over his features. His eyes are so blown out they’re almost fully black. You blink at him, and his mouth falls open in a ragged pant.

“Hi.” You whisper.

His throat bobs. “You’re back.”

“I- I got the alert.” You glance over to Steve, who’s gone oddly pale. “Did the mission go okay? It was fine that I wasn’t there, right-“

“Yep!” Steve almost shouts, and you blink. “I mean- We were all good. Wish you were there, we all missed you, but- We were fine. Right, Buck?” Steve grabs Bucky’s shoulder. “We were all good.”

Bucky doesn’t look away from you for a single second. He grunts, and his grip tightens on your arm.

“Let go.” Steve mutters, and Bucky shoots him a glare.

He releases you like you burned him, then wipes his hand on his pants. You scowl. He was the one touching you.

“I was gonna.” He grumbles, and Steve sighs.

“I know, but-“ You get a weary look. Like Steve doesn’t want you to hear their conversation. “I think- You know what I think-“

“Steve-“ Bucky cuts himself off with a groan, running a hand over his face.

He still hasn’t looked away from you. Or moved that far out of your proximity.

“I’m fine.” He says, low and under his breath. You’re rooted to the ground under his gaze, unsure what you could even think of to say. “It’s- I’m fine.”

Steve’s lips press in a thin line. Bucky takes a large, jerking step back. Like he’s dragging himself away.

“How was your date?” He grunts.

“Bucky-“

“I’m just askin’ a question.” He snaps, still not sparing Steve a look.

The attention is getting to be too much. Bucky is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, and it’s making your body almost buzz in anticipation. You want to jump on him and feel those hot hands all over your body. His nostrils flare like he can smell your arousal. If he can, you might jump off a bridge.

You hope he’d catch you, then fuck you until your can’t even walk.

Get a fucking grip.

“Bad.” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. “He sucked.”

And that’s the kind of thing Bucky would usually mock you for. Skipping a mission just for a bad date.

But a low, rumbling growl falls from his chest. His tongue darts over his lips. He takes a half-step forward, and you lean in to the gravity of his stare.

“We have debriefing!” Steve shouts, grabbing the collar of Bucky’s suit. “Bye!”

Before you can even register it, Steve’s dragging Bucky down the hall. You swear you hear another feral noise, and a crash after they turn the corner.

Something had to have happened on the mission. You just have no fucking clue what.

Bucky’s only been acting stranger. You’d pretend it didn’t bother you, if you could get away from it for a single fucking second.

You walk through the compound, and he’s somehow more everywhere than he was before. Around every corner, in the library, on the grounds, even in the control room while you’re going through the mission files.

“What’re you doin’.” He grunts, and you sigh.

You’re not surprised he’s there. It’s the fifth time today that he’s snuck up on you.

“I’m going through the reports on the mission.” You drawl. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around?”

Bucky grunts. It seems to be a no. You roll your eyes and go back to poking through the system. It’s hard to pretend that you can’t feel his presence behind you. There’s heat almost rolling from his body, and thick, spicy and musky scent that’s filling the room. It’s making you a little dizzy. It’s all you can do, not to look back at him.

That would be dangerous. He probably still looks feverish and animalistic. You might moan.

You find the files for the mission, and try to open them. Big, read access denied, contact your handler for permission to these files flashes over your screen. Your mouth falls open, and you whip back to glare at Bucky before you can think about it.

Mistake. Just like you’d thought, big mistake.

He looks even worse and better than you thought. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and sweats, and they’re clinging to his sweaty body. His eyes are hooded and his lips are parted. His attention is so wholly fixed on you that it almost makes you fall out of your chair. You almost forget you’re annoyed with him. Every single nerve in your body is alight, and your fingers are itching to comb through his sweaty hair.

You somehow—just barely—fight it.

“Why can’t I access these files.”

Bucky leans over you, his nostrils flaring. If you reach up, you could trace the stubbled line of his jaw. It’s hard to maintain your glare.

“Barnes-“

“You weren’t on the mission.” He mutters. “Not your files to see.”

You scowl. “I can access the files of every other mission I was on-“

“Steve should change that.”

God, you wish he wasn’t so pretty. It would be easier to think about punching him.

“I know something happened out there.” You hiss, sitting up a little taller. “You can’t hide it from me. I’ll figure it out.”

Bucky chuckles. It’s a low, raspy sound that runs through your body, making you shiver.

“Sure, doll. Have fun with that.”

You shoot to your feet, and Bucky lurches back. Another one of those deep, rumbling growls rolls from his chest, and for a second you think he’s going to pounce on you.

And then you blink, and he’s gone. Leaving you with only that hazy smell, and desire rolling through your veins.

You wish that was the extent of it, but it’s barely the start. And it only gets worse.

Bucky doesn’t do his movie nights anymore, which means you get the TV all to yourself. You watch what you want, and try not to look at the spot next to you. Where your body feels like he’s supposed to be. You stretch out your legs, but they ache strangely without his touch. You get more restless without him. Around midnight, you shuffle to the kitchen, hoping one of those soothingherb thingys that Wanda says help with her nightmares will be there.

Instead, you find Bucky. 

He’s drinking a glass of ice, with a little bit of water. He freezes when he sees you, and moves further behind the counter.

You sigh. You’re too tired to fight him.

“Can’t sleep?” You mumble.

He just nods.

You sigh, and walk over the cupboard.

“You want hot chocolate?”

A grunt. Better than silence. You make two mugs, one for you, one for Bucky.

And maybe it’s just that you’re really starting to worry, but you don’t bother pretending to hate him. Your fingers brush when you pass him his mug, and his body seizes like you shocked him, but you just offer a tiny smile.

His mouth falls open. He stares at you like he’s spent years only looking at the muddier reflection of stars in the water, and has finally thought just to tilt his head up. You let out a small, shaking breath. He’s still burning up. You can feel it from your place a foot away. But you don’t dare to push it.

Not when he’s looking at you like this. The way you’d always, secretly and shamefully, dreamed he would.

“I’m watching Star Wars.” You mumble. “You wanna…”

You trail off, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

He nods again. A new tendril of worry blooms, overlapping with the growing tangle of them in your gut. He might not be able to speak.

But he follows you to the living area, and takes his place on the couch. His knee pushes against yours. He’s breathing awfully shallow, but you’re a selfish coward that wants him close, so you don’t mention it.

You barely pay attention to the movie. All you can focus on is Bucky at your side. How he doesn’t even seem to be sparing the TV a glance. He’s not really touching you, save for that place where your thighs are always pushed together, but every time you shift he grabs your knee. You blink at him, and his throat just bobs. He still hasn’t said a word. You’re afraid that when he does, it will break this fragile illusion.

That he wants to be here.

Near you.

He passes out near the end of the movie. His head falls against your shoulder and his body goes limp, almost a blanket over yours. You don’t move, just staring at a lit up, black screen. He looks more peaceful than you’ve ever seen. His fever isn’t breaking, but it does seem to be easing. You run your fingers through his hair, and he makes a low sound like a purr.

Then he takes a deep inhale, right against the crook of your neck, and a different noise leaves him.

It’s almost a moan.

You swallow. Suddenly you need to move. You don’t know what’s going on with him, but this can’t be what he actually wants. To be asleep almost in your arms, purring and moaning. That’s not a part of him you get to have.

But when you try to move, his grip around you tightens.

You feel almost sick.

It takes almost an hour, to roll off the couch without him pulling you back. When you’re free, you still cover him in a blanket and press a hand to his brow. Just to check. You can’t really help it.

His fever is building again.

You wish he would just tell you what was wrong. Even if he thinks you hate him, he can’t think you wouldn’t care enough to help.

When you start to walk away, he moans again. You could swear it sounded a little like your name.

You force yourself to go to bed. You’re not sure if you want him to remember in the morning.

If anything, you just pray he gets better. It’s hard to hide your undying care for him, when he’s in pain. Impossible to ignore how much it bothers you, that he’s hurting. ‘

But it is Bucky.

And he’s never going to make anything that easy.

You walk out of your room in the morning, and he’s right there. Lingering in the hallway, staring at you with those blown-out eyes, working his jaw like he’s trying to bite his own tongue off.

“Hi.” You say lamely.

He stumbles back like you punched him. “You- You’re-“

“Bucky, are you-“

“’M fine.” He says it mostly to himself again. There’s sweat gathering on his brow and bags under his eyes.

You’re not going to tell him, but you’re getting worried. This is the third morning in a row you’ve found him here. The first night you asked if he’d slept there, and he’d scowled and stomped away.

But from the look of him, you don’t think he’s been sleeping at all.

“Do you need something?” You ask. You sound soft, but you can’t help it. The worse he looks, the more your heart tightens. “I can call Steve-“

“Don’t get Steve.” He steps back. The same jerked movement from the first night. It’s the only way he’s been moving around you, lately. “I’m fine.”

You give him a doubtful look. His tongue flicks over his lips. You take a step forward, and he takes another step back. Like you’ve got a polarity field around you. Like he can’t even stand to breathe the same air.

And yet he’s here. Outside your door, and breathing through his mouth like an animal.

“Bucky-“

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, stumbling another step back. “Just- Don’t.”

You swallow, and don’t give chase when he walks away. Jogs away. He yanks himself away, then runs like he thinks you’re going to catch him and drag him back. You won’t.

But you do go right to Steve.

“What happened on the mission.”

Steve flinches, gagging on his sandwich. You’re glaring down at him with your hands on your hips, and you think he knows his little charming smile isn’t going to work on you here. That doesn’t seem to stop him from trying anyway.

“Hey, um- Do you want a cookie-“

“Steven.” You hiss, and he swallows. “What happened.”

Steve winces, avoiding your gaze. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”’

“What do you mean you’re not supposed to tell me-“

“I mean I- I can.” He mutters. “But then Bucky will kill me. And I don’t want Bucky to kill me.”

You scowl. “Tough shit, because guess who’s going to kill you if you don’t tell me?”

Steve sighs. “Is it you?”

“Yep.”

He stares at his sandwich, like it’s somehow going to get him out of this situation. You wait for him to realize it won’t. You have plenty of time.

“I’m really not supposed to tell you-“

“I really don’t care.”

“Well- You will.” Steve looks up with a sad little puppy eyes.

You don’t have the same reservations about punching him in the face, that you have with Bucky. He’s basically asking for it right now.

“Steven, I swear to fucking God-“

“I can’t tell you.” He cuts you off with a shake of his head, and you scoff.

“No, you just won’t tell me-“

“That’s not- I can’t, okay? Please stop asking me to-“

“Why, because Bucky doesn’t want you to?” You leer. “Because last I checked, you’re the Captain. And if Bucky is your friend, you should be telling his teammates he’s in danger so they can help-“

“That’s the problem!” Steve shouts, and you blink. “You- Look, you’re going to want to help, and I can’t let you.”

“You can’t let me help?” You echo, and Steve winces.

“I know how it sounds-“

“Do you? Because what I’m fucking hearing that your best friend is in danger, and you won’t let me fucking help-“

“Why do you even want to help?” Steve fixes you with a pointed look. “All you ever do is complain about Bucky and how he’s annoying you. I would’ve thought you didn’t care.”

You narrow your eyes, and Steve raises his brows. You know what he’s doing. Smug fucking asshole. 

“That won’t work on me.” You grunt, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve-“

“But,” he says causally. “If I did, I’d say that’s why I can’t tell you. And you know that.”

You hate it when he speaks in riddles. Like you’re just supposed to read between the lines when your brain is fogged with worry about Bucky.

“I- I don’t-“ You let out a slow breath, looking down to your shoes. Heat is flooding your cheeks. It’s annoying. “It’s not- I’m just- Please.”

Your voice cracks suddenly. You’ve been losing more sleep over this than you’re ever going to tell anyone. You almost feel ill with it—like the worry is an infection, knotting up your stomach and making your heart pick up—but that might just literal exhaustion. Something happened. No one will tell you what. It’s making you feel useless and hopeless and torn up to tiny, useless shreds.

“Bucky.” You say slowly. “Is- He’s not okay. I know he’s not okay.” You force yourself to meet Steve’s gaze. “Just- Lie to me and say he’s fine, and fix it, or tell me and let me help. But I- I can’t just-“

You don’t even know how to finish the sentence. There’s a burning feeling behind your eyes and a lump in your throat. You’re so worried. Worried this is something that’s going to kill him, and you’re going to lose him forever.

And there’s pity, in Steve’s gaze. It’s enough to make him break, his voice softening completely.

“Alright.” He murmurs. “But- You can’t tell him I told you.”

You nod quickly. “I’ll say I just got into the files, or- Something- Please.”

Steve sighs. “Okay. Okay.” He shakes his head. “It was on the mission. Bucky was distracted the whole time, and when we got jumped he wasn’t being controlled with his punches. He swag to hard on an Hydra agent. Knocked them back into some vials, and- Well they burst. All over both of them. We put the agent in containment, but he was displaying worse symptoms. Bucky- I think it’s the serum, or just… Bucky. But he’s been controlling it better.” Steve grimaces. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not still knocked up with stuff.”

You nod slowly. That’s not that bad.

But Steve didn’t want you to know for a reason.

“What are the symptoms?”

Steve won’t meet your gaze. “Fever. Nausea. Hormone flares. Um- Increased… libido.”

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open. “What.”

“Hydra makes some weird stuff. Tony thinks this was, um- A breeding drug. We don’t know why they were developing it, but- There’s no other name.” Steve’s nose wrinkles. “The agent- His cell is disgusting.”

“But- Bucky-“

“I told you, he says he’s got it under control.” Steve shrugs, but doesn’t really sound like he’s convinced himself. “The agent has been, ah… begging for anyone. Bucky doesn’t have the same liberty with what will help. He says it’s going to pass, and he’ll be fine.”

“And will it?” You breathe. “Pass?”

Steve shrugs. “It did for the agent.”

“Before or after the mating?”

Steve’s silence is an answer. You swear under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this, Steve? We- We need to get him to someone, this could fucking kill him-“

“I know that!” Steve snaps. “I know that just as well as you do! As he does! But- Jesus.” He shakes his head. “He won’t take anyone. He’ll only- Well- You know.”

“I know? I don’t fucking know, none of you have been telling me shit-“

Steve says your name plainly. You blink.

“What-“

“Nothing. Just- Why do you think he’s been lingering around you?”

You stare at him. He raises his brows, and you swallow.

“Steve-“

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Yes, you did-“

“Nope.”

You press your lips in a tight line. He can’t mean what you think he means. That would be to easy. Too good. “Bucky- He doesn’t- That’s not how he feels about me.”

Please don’t say it is. It’s not fair if you’re lying.

“Funny.” Steve shrugs. “He says the same thing about you.”

This is a bad idea.

Bucky hasn’t left his room in a day. You’d spent all of last night replaying your conversation with Steve, trying to pick it apart for a single reason he didn’t mean what you thought he did. What you hoped he did. What you’d always hoped for, only in the dead of night where no one would ever find out.

But it didn’t matter how you turned or picked at Steve’s words. There was only one conclusion. The beautiful, horrible one that you can’t even fully wrap your head around. It would mean you spent years hating him for no reason. Year thinking about kissing his stupid face, when you could’ve been actually kissing him. If Steve’s right, you’re going to kill Bucky.

After you fix this for him.

If Steve means what you think, you can fix this for him. He just has to let you.

Which is why this is a horrible idea. If Bucky turns you down, you’re going to have to quit your job and change your name and  move to Indonesia.

But if he doesn’t turn you down…

You steel yourself and knock on Bucky’s door. It’s worth the risk, just for him. Always just for him.

“Fuck off, Stevie-“

“I’m not Steve!” You call, and for a second there’s no response. 

Then there’s a muffled banging, and you almost fall forward when Bucky yanks the door open.

He looks even worse than before. And better. And hotter, and oh God, your knees are already weak.

His shirt is gone, and his broad, muscled chest is shining with sweat. His hair flops over his eyes, mussed up and soft looking. He’s breathing through his nose, even as his swollen mouth hangs open. His metal fist is curled against the door, making the wood crack under his fingers. Standing through his sweatpants is the long, proud outline of his cock.

You swallow, your mouth watering. Bucky says your name, and you can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a plea or a prayer.

“You shouldn’t be here-“

“Steve said you need me.”

You stare at each other. Bucky’s tongue flicks out, and you chew on your lower lip. This is it. If he turns you down, you’ll walk away and live. A new life, across the world. You’ve never been to Indonesia, but you hear they have good food and community, and you’re sure you’ll be able to fit right in over time, and if you don’t at least Bucky will never find you to make you relive this humiliation, because it’s been almost two full minutes and he hasn’t said anything, so you should probably pull out your phone and start researching Indonesian names-

“Steve shouldn’t have told you anything.” Bucky growls, and you swallow.

“I- I made him.”

He sighs. You could swear his dick twitches. “Of course you did.”

“I was worried about you-“

“You don’t have to be, doll. I’m-“

“If you say I’m fine, I’m going to fucking punch you.”

Bucky scowls. You scowl harder. You have a feeling neither of you are going to back down.

“You’re sick.” You say plainly, and Bucky lets out a sharp exhale through his nose.

“Maybe. But it’s not the kinda sick you can help with-“

“Steve says it’s the kind of sick only I can help with.”

He’s silent again. You risk a tiny step forward, and he takes one back, muttering your name. It’s a warning. A plea.

“Don’t do this.” He mutters, fists balled at his side. “Not outta pity, not for me-“

“It’s not pity.” You stop in his doorway, making your voice soft. “I want to help, Bucky. Let me help.”

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, you- You just- You don’t feel like that for me-“

“You don’t feel like that for me.” You breathe, and Bucky’s body locks up.

“Who says?”

“You’re an ass to me-“

“You’re an ass to me.”

“I don’t mean to be.” You whisper. “I- I don’t- I’m not good at… You know.”

Bucky’s throat bobs. He still doesn’t move.

“Me neither.”

You nod. “But…”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah. I do.”

You take a deep breath. His whole room is filled with that musky, spicy smell. The heat is almost rolling off his body.

“Please ask me to help.” You don’t bother to hide the desperation in your voice. He needs to know that you mean it. “I- I want to, Bucky, I want you so bad-“

Bucky muffles your pleas, crashing forward and pressing his mouth over yours.

It’s not the soft, loving kiss of your fantasies. It’s rough and desperate, the kiss of a man finally letting his leash snap. He grabs your neck and scrunches his fingers in your hair, dragging a moan from the back of your throat. It turns into a hungry cry, when he pushes his tongue between your lips. Your knees wobble from the bruising force of it. You grab his shirt for balance, scrunching the fabric between your fingers.

Bucky grunts, pressing further over you. One arm drops to wrap around your waist, and the other slide up to cradle the back of your head. The touch his shockingly gentle, for the demanding way he’s almost eating your kisses. You’re standing nowhere near a wall, but he’s caged you all the same. There’s nothing to do but feel the way his cool, metal fingers dig into your hips, and the unrelenting heat of his mouth.

You kiss until your breathing is ragged. He tastes like mint and salt, and it’s a little addictive. Even after you’re light-headed and whimpering, Bucky sucks on your lower lip and takes just a little more. You whimper, gasping for air that he doesn’t seem to need. He tugs on your hair, forcing you to tip your neck back, and he plants open, hungry kisses over every place he can reach.

“You gotta be sure.” He murmurs against your skin. “Tell me you’re sure, doll, ‘cause- I don’t think I can go easy.”

And oh God, isn’t that lovey thought. Bucky not going easy. Combined with his tongue flicking over a pulse point, you almost fall over from the pure thought of it.

But he’s asking real permission. His hold on your hip is getting tighter, and his shoulders are squared and tense. He’s keeping himself from taking what he really wants, until you give him total permission.

You didn’t know you could want him more.

“I- Oh-“ Your eyes flutter, as he nips on sensitive skin under your jaw before kissing away the hurt. “I’m sure, Bucky, I- I don’t want you to go easy.”

For some reason, that only makes him more tense. He takes an uneven breath, pressing his brow against your head and almost pulling you off your feet as he hugs you tighter. You wait, slowly wrapping your arms around him and dragging your nails soothingly over the nape of his neck.

Bucky draws himself back, his expression unreadable as he scans over your face. You offer him a tiny, nervous smile, and he lets out a shaky laugh.

“You- You got no idea, do you?”

Your face falls to a pout. “I have a lot of ideas-“

“No, you don’t.” He drops his brow over yours. “You got no fuckin’ clue, what you do to me.”

And your brain stalls. It gets all gooey and soft, as you just blink up at him. You’re already on unsteady legs. You never thought he’d catch you if you fell, but with the way Bucky’s looking at you right now, you think he’d dive off a cliff to be at your side.

“Bucky…” You breathe, and he drops his forehead against yours. Your noses bump. His gaze darts between your lips and eyes, and you think you might be burning alive.

“You smell so good.” He mutters, before leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You-“ You almost whimper, when he pulls away. “You imagined?”

He chuckles, kissing just your upper lip. You’re already putty under his hands, and you might turn to just a steam of desire if he doesn’t stop kissing you so softly.

“Didn’t you?”

You nod, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Bet I imagined more.”

And you doubt that, but Bucky’s kissing you again before you can tell him that you imagined so much it scared you sometimes. The way you were sure that you’d never be able to recover, from an addiction to a drug you’d never even taken.

You’re certainly never going to recover now. Kissing Bucky is even better than you’d let yourself dream about. His lips are just as soft as you thought. Even with the way he’s holding himself back, his touch is possessive. He traces your sides like he’s trying to memorize them, and kisses you the same way.

“Got no idea what I’m gonna do to, either.” He rasps against your lips. “If you let me, doll… You shouldn’t- But-“ He groans, pushing his nose into your cheek, kissing over the slope of your jaw. “Fuck, I want you to.”

You want him to. You want to feel those sloppy, devout kisses everywhere, to get that infernal tongue between your legs. His cock is almost bursting through his sweats, protruding into your thigh. He’d be heavy on your tongue, and split you better than the toys that you’ve used in his place before. The ache in your core throbs from just the idea, and you can feel your heart trying to burst all out of your throat with confession of desire and adoration. But you’re not sure if he’s going to believe them.

“Tell me.” You whisper. “Tell me what you’ve dreamed about doing to me.”

Bucky pulls back, and you worry you’ve stepped on an invisible landmine. That you’re going to be shoved out of the room, the door slammed in your face instead of behind you, locking you out of the room you’ve longer to be in since you met him. Bucky stares at you. You open your mouth to apologize and take it back, but he loves to move faster than your lustdrunk mind can understand.

You squeal as he walks you backward, but not out of the room. He kicks his door shut as you pass it. It slams, right as Bucky pins you between against the wall. He kisses you before you can protest or ask questions, and keeps going until you’re squirming against him and unsure if you should pull him closer or push him away. His kisses wander your cheeks, over your nose and hairline and back down to your ear.

“I wanted you just like this.” He chokes out, and your swallow. He sounds wrecked, and you’re not even kissing anymore. “Wanted you everywhere. Would see you in a meetin’ and think about bending you over the table. You’d get under me on the training mats and I’d wanna get in a headlock between your legs. Bet you taste so good.”

He shudders, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His dick has shifted to push right near your core, and it’s almost too much pressure, while not being nearly enough.

“Would sit next to you on the plane and think about gettin’ on my knees.” He rasps, beard ticking against your skin. “Worshipping your pussy like it deserves. Makin’ you- Fuck- Call my name-“

Bucky moans, his hips jerking forward. A tiny moan escapes your lips, and Bucky almost whines and does it again. You don’t think he can help it.

“Wanted to stuff your pretty little lips with my cock.” He thrusts again, his whole weight almost collapses over your body. “You’d get all mouthy and I- I jerk off to the idea of puttin’ you over my knee or gettin’ you lying in my bed. I’d- I’d fuck you so nice, doll, I swear I’d be good, but- Fuuuck-“

He’s rutting between your thighs, and seems to forget the story he’s supposed to be telling you in favor of sucking on your neck. You whimper, pushing your hand between your bodies. Not to stop him—never to stop him—but to wrap your fingers around his cock through his sweats.

Bucky moans, his voice breaking with raw, starved relief. You try to pull him back to kiss him, but he just wraps closer around you. He’s almost shaking. You think he’s trying not to fuck your hand.

You can’t have that.

“It’s okay.” You drag your fingers over the line of his cock, and he whimpers against your neck. “I- I’ve thought about it too.”

Bucky slams forward, and you smile at the air.

“Wanted you to shove me down and fuck me stupid. Wanted to ride you until I passed out. I bought a dildo, baby, just to pretend it was you.”

You use your free hand to pet the back of his head, slowly sliding his sweats down to give yourself better access. Bucky’s thick and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping fully around, and whenever your nails graze his balls, he bucks forward with a strangled moan.

“Wasn’t as big.” You breathe, stroking his dick in long, tight motion. “You’re so big, Bucky, I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

He grunts, his teeth grazing your neck. “Gonna- Fuck-“

You squeeze him at the base, and he doubles over. He’s almost fully collapsed against you. You want to feel him come apart.

“Gonna make it fit.” He hisses in your ear, and you hum.

“How?”

“Open you up.” He mutters, words slurred like he’s drunk. “Get you all over me, doll- Wanna watch you cum over and over and- God-“

His dick is twitching, and you giggle. He’s working himself up.

“You think this is funny?” He rasps.

You smile, swiping your thumb over the weeping slit of his dick. “A little. You wanna make me cum but you won’t even touch me.”

He makes an annoyed sound, and tries to push off of you. You tug his cock a little harder, and he falls back over with a moan. You giggle again.

“You- You’re a fuckin’ brat-“

“I’m helping you, Barnes.” You whisper in his ear.

He chuckles, and the sound rolls through your body. “Helpin’ me would be sitting on my face- Fuck-“

Bucky’s whole body shakes, when you squeeze him one last time, and his control slip. You pet him through his orgasm, unsure if you want him to notice how you press your legs tighter to try and get more stains of his cum. He pants and groans against your skin, his lips latching back around that one bruise he seems to be obsessed with.

There’s so much cum. Bucky grinds into your fist, and it just keeps coming and coming and coming until your fingers are sticky and drenched. The idea of him doing that inside you is almost a little terrifying. You’ve never wanted anything more.

A choked sound like your name comes out, muffled against your skin. You smile, leaning back to try and meet his gaze.

Bucky seems to need a second. You hope you didn’t already wear him out.

“You okay?” You whisper, and he tenses.

Bucky pulls back, and your pulse picks up into a drum.

Whatever he’d been before, it had been tame compared to this. His jaw is clenched, his attention fixed on you like a predator. His chest heaves, his hands limp at his side. You swallow, feeling a lot smaller than you did a second ago.

You can’t stop yourself from looking down. It only makes things worse.

He’s bigger than he felt. His cum is dripping down his thigh, and it’s barely been a minute, but he’s already getting hard again. You drag your eyes up the expanse of his chest—all flushed skin and muscle—and realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you. You lick your lips. He mimics the movement.

“It won’t fit.” You says again, but your tone has lost all the teasing mockery of before.

And Bucky’s smirk is dangerous. A thrill rushes through you at the sight of it. You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted.

“Gonna make it fit.” He growls.

You yelp, as he grabs your wrist and yanks you forward. You don’t even slam into his chest before he’s lifting you off the ground with another mind numbing kiss. It’s a distraction. You know that. You don’t really care, though, returning it in a second.

Bucky carries you like you’re a doll, your knees bent like some princess and his warmer arm locked around your waist. He leans over, lowering you to the mattress with a shocking care. For a second you’re fully lost in him. The gentle motion of his lips over yours, the way his hands wander and map your body as he settles you into the mattress.

“So soft.” He mutters. “All that bite, doll, but I knew you’d be so fuckin’ soft for me.”

You’d like to protest, and say that you’re not soft. But Bucky’s kisses are making your head spin, and no single, clear word can make it out of the daze. All you manage is a high, long whine.

Bucky chuckles. His hand pushes under your shirt, almost tickling over your sides.

“You like that?” He tease, his knuckles tracing over the underside of your boobs. “You like bein’ my sweet girl?”

You are not sweet. You try to snap that, but it mostly just comes out a feral grumble. You don’t know how he’s the one with a sound mind right now. You’re not under a sex drug.

You’re just under Bucky. Where it’s very, very warm, and sticky, and nice. His cum is dripping over your clothed core and midriff. You shiver as it hits bare skin, and Bucky smirks against your lips.

“Say it and I give you more.” He rasps. “Say you like it.”

And it’s a game. You know that you like it. He does too. But he’s poking and teasing you, trying to get you spar with him. To get you to play.

So you glare at him when he leans back, spreading your legs wider at the same time. You keep your mouth stubbornly shut.

Bucky grins. He traces the curve of your hips with massive hands, his thumb angling to smear his cum over your navel.

“Look at you.” He mocks. “Beggin’ for me and then can’t even admit she likes it.”

You wrinkle your nose, turning up your chin. Bucky smacks your inner thigh, then rubs his metal palm right over your pussy. The sudden sting then harsh pleasure make your hips push off the bed with a cry. Bucky takes his hand away to splay it on your abdomen, shoving you back down.

“You like gettin’ tossed around, too?” He laughs, and heat floods right to your core. “I’ll toss you around, baby. Make you into a nice little cockslut for me, even let you put my in that pretty mouth.”

He grabs your jaw, and you part your lips in a second. Bucky groans, his cock getting impossibly harder.

“Already listen so well.” He mutters, teasing his two forefingers over your mouth. “Just can admit you fuckin’ love it, do you? Can’t be a good girl and tell the truth.”

You narrow your eyes in defiance, and pretend to bite down on his fingers. It’s not a real bite. Just teeth grazing knuckles. But Bucky understands what it means.

Permission to go further.

His eyes gleam. His cock is already leaking with pre-cum.

“Alright, babydoll.” He rubs your thighs, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. “Have it your way.”

In a single second, Bucky rips off your clothing like it’s paper. You barely have time to feel the cold of the air before he’s grabbing your waist, flipping you onto your stomach, and dragging your ass up in the air. You yelp, fisting your hands in the sheets, and try to twist and see where he is.

A dazed part of your brain that doesn’t remember his hands on your hips sees no one behind you, and almost freaks out.

Then the first stroke of Bucky’s tongue hits your pussy, and you collapse fully into the sheets.

“Oh my-“ Your eyes roll back, as he teases the very tip of his tongue around your clit before dragging it through your folds. “Oh my God-“

“Sensitive fuckin’ pussy.” Bucky muses, and you feel the stubble of his cheek pressing against you thigh. “Barely even touching it. Wonder if I-“

 His thumb drags circles just around your clit, and you squeak. He kisses the curve of your ass, going a little fast. You whine trying to drag your own ass in circles to match his motions. You can’t see him. Can’t know if you’re doing well outside of his lips tracing your thigh, and the pleased hums against your skin.

Bucky jerks his thumb suddenly to the side, pushing directly over your clit. You scream, your knees sliding back. Bucky grabs them and pushes them back up, fully exposing your pussy to the air.

“Look at you.” His breath is warm, over that most sensitive spot. “Bet I don’t even need to fuckin’ prep you. You’re so wet, you’d just…”

He makes a deep, rumbling sound, and you almost sob as he drags his tongue right back between your puffed pussy lips. You clench around nothing, his stubbled scraping your clit. Bucky angles his face, letting his tongue flick over your clit. It goes back and forth and back and forth, toying with it before pressing flat. He sucks, hard like a lollipop, and you almost sob into the mattress.

“Sweet.” Bucky whispers, his metal arm wrapping around your legs. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Bu- Bucky-“

“Shhh.” He kisses right over your pussy. “Wanna taste, pretty girl. I gotta fuckin’-“ He moans, and the vibration shoots right up your spine. “Gotta taste-“

Bucky presses his face fully into your cunt, and the sound that leaves you almost isn’t human.

He’s good at this. So good at this. It’s a little unfair. Your mouth can’t do anything but hang uselessly open, as Bucky works his jaw against you. He eats you like he’s starved for it. Like he’s a man that wants to drown of an insatiable thirst.

Two hands hold you up in the air, as his tongue plunges ruthlessly in and out of your cunt. You keen, trying to push further back, and the warmer hand wraps up to your spine and shoves your stomach down. It’s a tighter fit like this. Bucky drags his tongue around, and it hits every sensitive area. His beard tickles and scratches, and cold fingers tease your skin.

You get more and more sensitive, with every flick and suck and groan. You’re so wet it’s almost drooling down your legs, mixing with the stains of cum he’d gathered from your midriff and smeared over your legs. The dual heat with his cold hand makes all your nerves stand on end. You pussy clenches again, and Bucky chuckles.

“That’s right.” He mutters, making out with your clit as you gasp for air into the bed. “That’s it, baby, you’re already lettin’ go, aren’t you.”

You whine, and Bucky nips at your ass.

“Aren’t you?”

“Ye- Yes.” You mumble. “’S good, Bucky- So good-“

“I know.” He grunts, pressing his cold, metal thumb down into your clit. “Fuck, baby, I know.”

You whimper, and Bucky starts up on your dripping pussy again. He’s lapping at it, pushing his tongue into your tight hole as he plays with your clit, and white lines your vision.

“I- I’m gonna- Fuck- Bucky-“ You scratch at the sheets. “I’m gonna- Oh God-“

He smacks your clit, spits onto your pussy, and resumes with double the effort. You cry his name, as your orgasm wracks your body. You can feel yourself seizing around him, twitching and writhing in his tight grip as your vision lines with white.

And Bucky doesn’t stop. You’re making a mess all over his face, and he’s rising up, but it’s just pushing you further into the mattress. You whimper, your cunt too sensitive, but he doesn’t even come up for air.

“Shit- Bucky- Oh- Ohhhhh-“

The ache quickly fades into pleasure again. Blinging pleasure that’s just on the wrong side of too much, but pleasure all the same. You squeal, and Bucky just moans against your cunt.

Then you hear it. The slam of his fist against his cock.

He’s jerking off while he eats you out.  He’s fucking himself so hard you can hear it, hear the slap of skin, feel all his little moans and grunts right against your pussy, and the thought sends you right over the edge again.

Bucky moans louder, as you cum on his tongue. Just like before, it seems to make him more and more feral. You have a feeling what lucidity that let him tease you before is gone. He’s eating you out the same way he’s kissed you, with rough lips and a fervor that’s almost animalistic. You’re boneless and whimpering into the sheets, taking it over and over as Bucky just keeps working his mouth against your cunt, and fucking his hand.

Then, suddenly, he’s gone. You whine from the lose, trying to roll over and look at him, but he just shoves you back down with a growl. The sound of his hand is getting faster and faster, and a hot weight drops over your back. Bucky presses his face into your neck, and takes a deep breath. You whimper, and he groans. His hips must be rocking, with how the bed is shaking.

“Smells good.” He rasps. “Gonna- Fuck-“

Bucky snaps back up, and you feel him cum more than you even hear it. Hot ropes spurt over your ass and back, seeping down the back off your thighs and into your pussy. You moan at the sensation, pushing back on trembling hands. There’s always just more of it, until you’re so marked up with him you’re sure you’ll never be able to wash it off.

You don’t want to.

With how Bucky grabs your hips and spreads the stain over your skin, you don’t think he does either.

“Shit.” He breathes out, and you hum in agreement. “Gotta- Flip for me, c’mon-“

Bucky helps you roll over. His touches are gentle again, but the gleam in his eyes hasn’t faded. You blink at him, flat on your back with your legs spread. Bucky traces the lips of your cunt, then slowly pushes two fingers inside you. Fucking his cum back into your tight hole. You mewl, eyes fluttering. Your head tosses back, and Bucky smiles

“Good girl.” He coos.

You try not get all gooey and weak just from the praise. Bucky laughs, and you think you might’ve failed.

“Strangling my fingers, doll.” He teases, pulling them right out.

You whimper. You’re too wet and ready not to take something. It’s really not fair to make you wait.

“I know.” He kisses your brow, voice rough. “Trust me, I fuckin’ know. You just gotta tell me you like it, then-“ His cock drags between your folds, and you keen. “All yours.”

You blink at him, opening your mouth to comply.

But you’re at an advantage.

Bucky’s hard again. His body is wound so tight above you, and his every word is thick. Like it’s an effort to speak. He’s still trying to fight against the drug running through his veins.

You want him to give in.

So you close your mouth, and give him a defiant glare.

Bucky growls again, and there’s no more teasing.

His mouth pushes over yours, and it’s not a loving kiss. It’s rough and quick, stealing your breath in seconds and distracting you as Bucky grabs your knees and shoves them back. You try to chase his lips, when he pulls away, but he shoves you back down with a grunt.

“Wanna be a brat.” He grunts. “Gonna get fucked like a brat.”

You almost beam. Yes, please.

Bucky folds you under him, your knees pressed to your chest and your cum-stained pussy on full display. He doesn’t waste time, tapping the head of his cock against your clit before slamming right inside. You’re so soaked you take it with only a hitched breath, but that doesn’t mean your eyes don’t roll back.

He hits right against you pelvis, when he bottoms out. His heavy balls sit on your ass, and the stretch of him is just enough pain to heighten the pleasure. Bucky kisses all over your face as he lets you adjust, but your pussy is greedy. He’d prepared you too well. You’re more than ready within seconds.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You gaps out, and he growls against your neck. “Move.”

If he’d told you to wait, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

But the drug seems to have overtaken him again, and all you get is a noise like a snarl against your throat before Bucky draws almost all the way out, and slams back in.

The air is knocked clean from your lungs. This time, he hit right against your g-spot, and your whole body seizes up. Bucky makes a low, deep noise, and repeats the motion. Again, he drives right into that gooey spot deep inside of you. You clench around him, and he doubles over, rutting deep inside of you.

“The- There-“ You whimper, fingers scrambling in the sheets. “Fuck, baby, right there-“

Bucky grunts an agreement, and starts to fuck you into the mattress. The angle is so deep you’re worried he’s going to permanently rearrange your guts. Every slam of his cock into your makes you see heaven, and Bucky pants over your, his eyes locked onto yours as your face contorts with pleasure.

He’s not even fucking you like a brat. He’s fucking you like a doll. He grabs at your limbs and moves them below him like you’re just a sleeve for his dick, and he needs you into just the right spot. One hand fists in your hair, forcing your neck a little up so you can watching your arousal gleam on his cock every time he pulls out. He moans every time he pushes back in, and you watch your cunt swallow his dick whole. A wet, smacking sound filling the room as he drills into you. He bends you even further to kiss over your neck and breasts, his tongue dragging in rhythm with his dick.

You try to clench around him every time he bottoms out, but your head is sort of empty, and now you’re just a drooling pussy around his massive cock, moaning his name and happily milking every bit of pleasure.

“Oh- Oooooh-“ You mewl, smiling like a cockdrunk idiot at the air. “Buuuucky-“

His mouth presses back over yours, and the kiss is strangely soft. His fucking hasn’t slowed or relented, but there’s a care with how his lips move over yours that makes you feel worshipped.

That’s what he’d said he’d do. Worship you. And you can really feel it here.

Bucky draws back, and the hand that had been fisted in your hair moves to your jaw. He squeezes again. You open for him easily, and his lips twitch.

“Good girl.” He coos, even if the words are tighter than before.

He spits into your mouth. You swallow obediantly, and open again when he squeezes your cheeks. Bucky slams forward with a groan, looking like a man wrecked.

“You fuckin’ like it, don’t you-“

“Love it.” You gasp, unable to even think to deny him again. “Love you, Bucky- Oh- Oh my god-“

Bucky makes a ragged, choked sound, and cums almost without warning. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, as he pumps you full of his release. It feels like even more than before. Like you’re going to burst with how full you are, spurts of it still being forced out as Bucky fucks you through. You’ve never felt so totally claimed, with him all over every inch of your skin. He kisses you and you giggle, dazed and almost high on the feeling.

And he’s not even done.

The period of lucidity between orgasms gets shorter before it gets longer. Bucky’s ability to control himself almost vanishes all together. You get a kiss and broken mumble of your name before you’re being flipped back onto your stomach and fucked from behind. There will be handprints on your ass and thighs in the morning, and the sheets are stained with your drool from how Bucky railed you from behind.

You’re dragged into his lap right after, and he pushes his thumb into your mouth, then ruts up into your gaping cunt. You’re all moans and ditzy smiles by that point. When rolls you back onto your stomach and sits up on his knees, you just take it with moans and giggles and cries of delight.

He hasn’t just ruined you. He’s pulled you apart a million times over, until you’re just a puddle that sings his name.

You don’t even fully realize he’s done, when he kisses pulls out that last time. You whine, and clench around nothing, but expect to get filled right back up.

Then Bucky kisses you, and it’s slow. Savoring and sweet. Romantic. His voice is hoarse, but it’s lost the strained quality. He’s fully teasing again, smiling against your lips.

“So soft.” He coos, rubbing your thoroughly abused pussy with his warm hand.

You writhe, trying to get further and closer at the same time. Bucky chuckles, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Jesus, doll. You’d think you were the one that got sex drugged.”

You try to glare at him, but forget why the moment you see his pretty eyes, shining on yours.

They’re blue again.

“You’re back?” You breathe, and Bucky grins.

He ducks down, and presses another quick kiss over your lips.

“I’m back.”

 You’re ordered not to move, while he cleans up. You don’t think you could if you tried. Your body is jelly, everything is sore in the best way, and your head is spinning with too many thoughts of what the fuck happened.

You told Bucky you love him. You told Bucky you love him. You’d never even fully admitted it in your head and he just fucked it right out of you. You said it fast, too fast, he thought you hated him four hours ago and now he must think you’re some kind of freak for just saying you love him.

He makes you drink water and go to the bathroom. Draws you a bath and brings you a snack and changes the sheets. You manage to find the strength to stand out of the tub and dry yourself off, wrapping the towel around your body before shuffling out in the center of his room.

God, he’s so handsome. All tan muscles and scars you want to trace with your tongue. Too bad you fucking blew it, and now you’re never going to get to touch him again-

Bucky turns, and smiles when he sees you. You swallow, bracing for the worst as he crosses the room.

He takes your face between his hands and kisses you. Deep and gentle and maybe he just forgot-

“Love you too.” He says against your lips. “Just- Uh- While we’re saying it.”

Oh.

Or that. That’s nice.

You throw everything you have into kissing him back, but end up tackling him down onto the bed with the sudden surge of strength. Bucky chokes out a laugh in surprise, wrestling you over onto your back with kiss and wandering hands. You giggle, trying to push back, and he nips at the tip of your nose.

Then he pauses, and pulls up with a small, worried frown.

“You’re stayin’ the night, right?”

You almost snort. There’s no getting rid of you now. You’re going to stay forever, and as long as he’ll allow after that.

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

✦End note: this was longer than my college thesis btw. and i. put more effort into it.✦

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[spacejjunk]

i love you baby, send a picture of your tits please

part 2 to one hand on my dick, one hand on my phone since all you horny bastards asked for it ♡

w/c: 10094

warnings: its smut. its literally 10k words of full smut. somnophilia and public sex and voyurism if you squint included.

masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s been exactly two days since that call.

Two days of Dean Winchester refusing to let you slip back into the dark. He’s been relentless in the sweetest, filthiest way possible- constant texts, voice notes, pictures that made your thighs press together every single time your phone lit up.

The morning ones always started soft, almost goofy, like he was trying to make you smile before the day even began.

Dean 😝: morning sweetheart.. did you sleep like a good girl after i talked you through those two rounds? 😏 heres some fuel for the day

He’d attached the silliest motivational picture you’d ever seen- a cartoon hunter dramatically holding a zombies head like a trophy with the caption “You survived the night. Now go be a badass.” Underneath he’d typed-  or just think about me splitting you open in a few days.. that works too.

You’d laughed out loud in your empty kitchen, cheeks warm.

The afternoon check ins were shorter but no less effective.

Dean 😝: just finished questioning some asshole… all I could think about was how wet you sounded begging me to fill you up.. two days baby im counting every hour

Dean 😝: sam asked why I keep grinning at my phone like an idiot.. told him to fuck off he doesn’t need to know ive been half hard since I woke up

But the nights… the nights were your favorite.

That’s when the real Dean came out- the one who had zero filter and loved making you squirm from hundreds of miles away.

The first night after your little phone session started off strong.

Dean 😝: cant sleep… keep thinking about you touching yourself for me… you doing that right now sweetheart?

You’d barely typed maybe before the picture came through.

It was filthy. Dean had taken it from above while sitting in the Impala, parked under a streetlight. Leather jacket open, shirt shoved up, thick cock flushed dark and heavy in his fist, a shiny bead of precum at the tip. In the rearview mirror you could just see his green eyes looking straight at the camera with that cocky, hungry smirk.

Dean 😝: this is what you do to me baby.. been like this since i hung up with you last night… touch that pretty clit while you look at it. tell me how wet you are

You did. You sent him shaky voice notes of your soft moans because typing was impossible with one hand between your legs. He talked you through it again- slower this time, but just as carnal- until you came with his name on your lips and he came with a low groan you could hear through the text.

Night two was worse. Better. Both.

Dean 😝: tomorrows the day im losing my fucking mind… sam went to grab food.. I may have taken advantage of the alone time…

The second picture was even more devastating. Close up of his lower abs and cock, still twitching, thick ropes of cum streaking across defined muscle and dripping down toward his thigh. His hand was messy with it, loosely wrapped around the base. You could see every detail- the dark hair, the way his jeans were shoved down just enough, the sheen of sweat on his skin.

Dean 😝: look what you made me do sweetheart… came so hard thinking about breeding that tight cunt cant wait to do it for real... gonna pump you so full youll be leaking me for days

You’d stared at it until your vision blurred, thighs slick, heart hammering.

You: Fuck, Dean… I can’t stop looking at it. I’m so wet rn. I want that. All of it. You. Inside me.

Dean 😝: good girl… keep that pretty pussy ready for me… tomorrow night im walking through your door and im not stopping until youre a shaking cum filled mess… sleep well baby dream about me

You did. And for the first time in months, the dreams were good.

You woke up late the next morning, the anticipation threatening to kill you.

Your phone has been buzzing with updates all afternoon as he drove.

Dean 😝: rapped the case… sams staying to clean up the mess... im on the road 7 hours out be ready for me sweetheart

Dean 😝: 4 hours my cocks been hard on and off the whole drive… keep thinking about how youre gonna look when I spread you open and slide in deep

Dean 😝: 2 hours… edge yoursel for me a little... i want you desperate and dripping when I get there... dont come. thats for me.

Your hands had shaken reading that one. You obeyed- touching yourself lightly, stopping every time you got too close, the denial making everything sharper.

Then the last text, thirty minutes ago:

Dean 😝: almost there baby… 20 minutes…door unlocked? im not gonna knock im just gonna come in and take whats mine.

You: It’s unlocked. I’m waiting…

Dean 😝: good… be in that old shirt and panties… I want to peel them off you

You’re pacing the living room when you hear it.

The low, unmistakable rumble of the Impala pulling into your driveway. Engine cuts. Car door slams.

Your stomach flips- nerves and liquid heat twisting together.

The front door opens.

Dean fills the doorway like he belongs there. Leather jacket creaking, duffel bag dropped forgotten by his feet. Green eyes lock onto yours, dark and hungry, two days of filthy pictures and promises burning in them. His hair is messy from the drive, jaw rough with stubble, but that cocky smirk is softened by something warmer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and rough like gravel and honey. “Miss me?”

You don’t get to answer.

In two strides he’s across the room. One hand cups the back of your neck, the other slides around your waist and yanks you flush against him. His mouth crashes down on yours- hot, claiming, desperate. Tongue sweeping in, tasting you like he’s been starving. You moan into it, fists twisting in his jacket, pulling him closer.

He tastes like coffee and mint gum. Smells like leather, gun oil, that stupid cologne, and him. The combination makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you. His thumb strokes your cheek. “You have no idea how fast I drove to get here. So many days of thinking about this… about you…”

His hand slides down, grabs a handful of your ass through the thin panties, squeezes. You can feel how hard he is already, thick and insistent against your stomach.

“Been sending you all those pictures… touching myself every night to the thought of you… and now you’re right here.” His voice drops, that dominant edge sliding into place. “You followed instructions? Touched yourself but didn’t come?”

You nod, breathless. “Yes…”

“Good girl.” The praise hits low in your belly, exactly like it did over the phone. “My filthy girl. Been so patient for me.”

He kisses you again- slower but no less intense- then walks you backward toward the bedroom without breaking contact. His hands are everywhere under your shirt- palming your breasts, pinching your nipples until you gasp. He tugs the shirt off in one smooth motion and lets it drop.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes raking over every inch like he’s memorizing you. “Even better in person. Those pictures don't do you justice.”

He pushes you onto the bed and follows you down, his weight deliciously heavy. His mouth moves to your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear, then lower- kissing, nipping, until he takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, tongue flicking.

“I’ve been dreaming about these,” he says against your skin, then slides his hand into your panties. He groans when he feels how wet you are. “Fuck, baby… so soaked for me already. All that edging paid off, huh?”

You arch into his touch, moaning as his fingers circle your clit- slow, teasing, exactly like he described on the phone.

“Dean… please…”

He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your breast. “Please what, sweetheart? Use your words. Tell me what you want. I’ve been waiting days to hear it in person.”

You bite your lip, the old shyness flickering for half a second before the way he’s looking at you- like you’re the only thing that exists- makes you brave.

“I want your mouth,” you whisper. “Like you promised. On me. Then your cock. Inside me. Filling me up.”

Dean’s eyes go almost black. “That’s my girl.”

He doesn’t waste time. He hooks his fingers in your panties and yanks them down, tossing them aside. Then he’s settling between your thighs, spreading you open with both hands, staring like you’re a feast he’s been craving for weeks.

“Been thinking about this pussy for weeks,” he growls, then drags his tongue slow and flat from your entrance to your clit.

The first touch of his mouth is electric. You cry out, hips bucking, but his strong hands pin you down. He eats you like a man starved- long, filthy licks, then focusing on your clit, sucking it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Two thick fingers slide inside you without warning, curling perfectly, and you see stars.

“Just like that,” he murmurs against you. “Come on my tongue, baby. I want to taste you when you come.”

It doesn’t take long. The edging, the days of anticipation, the way his tongue and fingers work in perfect rhythm- you come hard, thighs shaking around his head, his name torn from your throat in a broken moan.

Dean groans like he’s the one coming, lapping up everything you give him, fingers still working you through it until you’re whimpering from oversensitivity.

He crawls back up your body, kissing you deep so you taste yourself on his tongue. You can feel his cock- rock hard - pressing against your thigh.

“Your turn,” you say, reaching for his belt, but he catches your wrist gently.

“Later. Right now I need to be inside you. Been thinking about it too long.”

He strips fast- jacket, shirt, boots, jeans- and your mouth goes dry. He’s even better in person. Toned, scarred, thick cock flushed dark and standing proud, exactly like the pictures but real. Hot. Heavy. Yours.

He settles between your legs, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

“Look at me,” he says, voice rough. “I want to see your face when I push in.”

You do.

Your eyes lock on his as he starts to press inside.

The stretch is intense- thick, burning in the best way. Even with how wet you are it takes a moment, but the burn melts into pure pleasure as he sinks deeper, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, baby… so tight,” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard. “Taking me so well. My perfect girl.”

He gives you a second to adjust, then starts to move.

Slow at first- deep, grinding thrusts that have you moaning with every roll of his hips. Then faster. Harder. The headboard slams against the wall. The wet sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with your broken moans and his low, filthy groans.

“Been wanting this since I pulled you out of that basement,” he confesses between thrusts. “Wanted to take you right there against the wall. Make you forget everything but me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Dean… harder… please…”

He gives it to you.

One hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, the other braces by your head. He fucks you with raw, desperate need- two days of pent up hunger pouring out of him. The dirty talk never stops.

“That’s it… take it, baby. Take my cock. Such a good little slut for me. My filthy girl.”

You clench around him at the words and he curses.

“Fuck, do that again. Squeeze me just like that.”

You do. He reaches down and rubs your clit in tight, fast circles.

“Come for me again,” he orders. “Come on my cock. I want to feel it.”

You shatter- screaming his name, walls pulsing around him as the orgasm rips through you.

Dean follows right after, burying his face in your neck, hips stuttering as he comes deep inside you. You feel every thick pulse, every hot spurt filling you up exactly like he promised in every text and every picture.

“Take it all,” he groans. “Every drop. Fuck… yes, baby…”

He stays inside you as you both come down, breathing hard, sweat-slicked bodies pressed together. He kisses your temple, your cheek, your lips- soft now.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs after a long moment. “That was… fuck. Better than every fantasy I had on the road.”

You smile, still floating, fingers sliding through his messy hair. “Told you I was thinking about you too.”

He chuckles, warm and sated, and pulls out slowly. You both watch as his cum starts to leak out of you. His eyes darken again.

“Look at that,” he says, voice rough with fresh hunger. “Just like I said. Leaking me already. And I’m nowhere near done with you tonight.”

He kisses you again- full of promise.

“Round two in a bit. Maybe in the shower. Or bent over the couch. Wherever I want, remember?”

You laugh softly, pulling him down for another kiss.

“Wherever you want, Dean. I’m all yours.”

He grins that cocky, heart-melting grin against your mouth.

“Damn right you are, sweetheart.”

And as he holds you close, the room feels warm instead of heavy. The shadows don’t reach for you anymore. Not with Dean Winchester in your bed, his arms around you, his cum still inside you, and the promise of so much more in the precious time you have together.

It takes him a total of a half hour until he's hard again.

“Round two,” he murmurs, voice gravel rough. His fingers slide down between your legs, gathering the cum that’s leaking out of you and pushing it back inside with two thick digits. You whimper at the filthy, possessive touch. “Shower. Now. I want that pretty mouth on my cock before I fuck you stupid.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He just kisses you hard then rolls off the bed and hauls you up with him like you weigh nothing. You follow on shaky legs, his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you down the short hallway to the bathroom.

The shower is already running hot by the time he pulls you inside. Steam fills the small space instantly. Water cascades over both of you, hot enough to sting in the best way. Dean backs you against the cool tile for a second, mouth on your neck, hands soapy and roaming- squeezing your tits, sliding down to grab your ass, one finger teasing between your cheeks before he spins you around and presses his front to your back.

“On your knees, sweetheart,” he growls against your ear, nipping the lobe. “Want to watch you choke on me under the water.”

You sink down willingly, knees hitting the wet floor. The water pours over your head, plastering your hair to your face, but you don’t care. Dean’s cock is already hard again, thick and flushed, hanging heavy between his legs. Water streams down the defined lines of his abs, over the dark trail of hair, dripping off the head.

You look up at him through wet lashes and wrap your hand around the base. He’s hot and velvety- heavy in your hand. You lean in and drag your tongue slow and flat from the base all the way to the tip, tasting the faint mix of both of you. Dean hisses, one hand bracing on the wall above you, the other sliding into your wet hair.

“Fuck… that’s it. Lick it clean, baby.”

You do. You lap at the head, swirl your tongue around the crown, dip into the slit to catch the fresh bead of precum mixing with water. Then you take him into your mouth properly- lips stretching wide around the thick girth, sucking as you bob forward. He’s heavy on your tongue, stretching your jaw. You relax your throat and push deeper, taking him until your nose brushes the wet hair at his base.

Dean groans, low and filthy. “Jesus Christ. Look at you. On your knees, taking my cock like you were made for it.” His hand tightens in your hair, not forcing, but guiding. “That’s my good girl. My filthy little whore. Suck harder.”

You moan around him at the words and the praise tangled together. The vibration makes his hips twitch. You pull back until just the head is in your mouth, suck hard on the sensitive tip, then sink down again- faster this time. Water pours over your face, into your mouth, making everything sloppy and loud. The wet sounds of your sucking echo off the tiles. You gag lightly when he hits the back of your throat, eyes watering, but you don’t stop. You want this. You want him to use your mouth.

Dean’s breathing gets rougher. “Fuck, baby… that throat. Gonna fuck your face a little, okay? Tap my thigh if it’s too much.”

You nod as best you can with your mouth full and he starts to move- shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, fucking into your mouth while you relax and take it. His cock slides over your tongue, hits your throat, pulls back. Spit and water drip down your chin, mixing with the precum he’s leaking. He watches you the whole time, eyes hooded, jaw tight.

“Goddamn, look at you,” he growls. “Mouth stretched around my cock, water running down those pretty tits. Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Keep going, sweetheart. Suck me like you mean it.”

You do. You hollow your cheeks, work your hand at the base in time with your mouth, twist your wrist on every upstroke. Your other hand slides between your own legs, fingers circling your swollen clit because you’re aching again already. Dean notices and curses.

“Touching yourself while you blow me? Fuck. Such a needy little slut. That pussy still hungry for more cum?”

You moan louder around him in answer.

He lets you work him for another minute- long enough that his thighs start to tremble, his breathing ragged-  then he pulls you off with a wet pop. His cock is flushed dark, spit slick and angry red at the head, twitching in the air.

“Not coming in your mouth,” he says, voice wrecked. “Not this time. I want it in that tight cunt again. Up.”

He hauls you to your feet like you weigh nothing, spins you around, and presses your front to the shower wall. The tiles are cool against your cheek and breasts. Dean kicks your feet apart, one big hand between your shoulder blades holding you there. The other grips your hip hard.

He lines up and slams into you in one rough thrust.

You cry out- loud, broken- as he fills you again. The stretch is even more intense after round one, your walls still sensitive and sore- not yet used to the thickness of his cock. Water pours over your back, down the curve of your ass, making everything slicker. Dean doesn’t give you time to adjust. He starts fucking you hard and fast, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin on skin loud even over the shower spray.

“Fuck- yes,” he snarls, one hand fisting in your wet hair, pulling your head back just enough to growl in your ear. “This is what I’ve been thinking about for two fucking days. Bending you over and wrecking this fucking pussy. You feel that? How deep I am? Gonna breed you right here, sweetheart. Fill you up again- gonna be covered in my cum for a long while baby.”

He punctuates every filthy word with a brutal thrust. The angle is perfect- he’s hitting that spot inside you on every stroke, the head of his cock dragging over it again and again. Your hands scrabble against the wet tile. You’re moaning shamelessly, pushing back to meet every thrust.

“Dean-  fuck- harder- ”

He laughs, dark and delighted, and gives you exactly what you asked for. The hand in your hair tightens. The one on your hip bruises. He fucks you like he’s trying to imprint himself on your body. Water cascades between you, making everything louder and wetter. You can feel his heavy balls slapping against you, feel the way your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick cock every time he bottoms out.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Take it. Take every inch like the good little cumslut you are for me. This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it? Made to be bred. Say it.”

You’re so far gone you barely manage the words. “Y-yes- made for you-  f-fuck-  Dean- ”

He reaches around with the hand that was in your hair and rubs your clit in tight, fast circles- rough, perfect pressure. “Come for me. Come on my cock while I’m balls deep in you. I want to feel this cunt milk me.”

You do. The orgasm crashes over you so hard your knees buckle. You scream his name, walls clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses, thighs shaking violently.

Dean groans like he’s dying, hips stuttering. “Fuck- yes- good girl- coming so hard for me- ” He buries himself to the hilt and stays there, grinding deep as he comes. You feel every thick pulse of it- hot, heavy spurts painting your insides, filling you until it’s leaking out around his cock even with him still buried inside.

He stays pressed against you for a long moment, both of you breathing hard, water pounding down. His forehead drops to your shoulder. One arm wraps around your waist to hold you up because your legs are useless.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasps eventually, voice hoarse. “You’re gonna kill me. Best fucking shower of my life.”

You laugh weakly, still trembling. He eases out of you slowly and you both watch the thick mix of cum and water run down your thighs. Dean makes a low, possessive sound and pushes two fingers back inside you, fucking his load deeper for a second before pulling them out and bringing them to your mouth.

“Taste,” he murmurs.

You suck his fingers clean without hesitation. He watches you with dark, satisfied eyes, then kisses you slow and deep under the spray. It's sweet the way his demeanor softens after he just fucked the life out of you.

He washes you after that. Gentle hands soaping every inch, rinsing you carefully, thumbs stroking over the marks he left on your hips and thighs. You return the favor- running your hands over his chest, his arms, down to his spent cock, cleaning him with soft touches that make him shiver.

When the water finally starts to cool, he shuts it off, wraps you in a towel, and carries you back to the bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He dries you off, then himself, and pulls you into his arms under the covers.

“I still can't believe I'm here,” he says to you, voice already sleepy but warm. “I’m not going anywhere. Gonna fuck you in every room of this house. Maybe even in Baby if you’re feeling adventurous.” He nuzzles into your neck, pressing a kiss there. “But right now? Sleep. You earned it, sweetheart.”

You curl into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart under your ear. The low rumble of his breathing, the solid warmth of his body, his protective arms wrapped around you. You fall asleep feeling happier than you ever have before. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You wake up first.

Sunlight is just starting to creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. Dean is still out cold beside you, one heavy arm draped over your waist, face buried in the pillow, breathing deep and even. He looks younger like this- relaxed, the usual tension gone from his jaw. But the sheet is tented over his hips, and you can feel the thick press of his morning wood against your thigh.

Your body is already humming. Sore in the best way from last night but the ache between your legs is fresh and insistent. You want more. You want him.

And you want to wake him up filthy.

You slide down the bed slowly, careful not to jostle him too much at first. The sheet tents higher as you move. You settle between his spread thighs, heart pounding with a mix of nerves and pure, liquid heat. His cock is already half hard, lying heavy against his stomach, the head flushed dark. You start to drool before you even get your mouth on him.

You lean in and drag your tongue slow and wet from the base all the way to the tip. Just like you learned he likes it. 

Dean makes a low, sleepy sound in his throat but doesn’t wake yet.

You do it again- longer this time- then wrap your lips around the head and suck gently. You take more of him into your mouth, working him with your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as you bob slowly. He hardens fast under your attention, thickening, lengthening, the head swelling against your tongue until you have to relax your jaw to take him properly.

A bigger groan rumbles out of him. His hips twitch. One hand finds your hair under the sheet, fingers sliding in without pressure yet.

“Fuck…” he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “Sweetheart?”

You hum around him in answer and sink lower, taking him deeper until the head nudges the back of your throat. Your nose brushes the coarse hair at his base. You hold there for a second, throat fluttering around him, then pull back with a wet suck.

Dean’s eyes are open now- heavy lidded, dark, already blown wide with lust. He lifts the sheet with his free hand and looks down at you, and the sight of you between his legs with your mouth stretched around his cock makes him curse.

“Jesus Christ. Best fucking wake up call of my life.” His voice is still sleepy but getting filthier by the second. “Look at you. Couldn’t even wait for me to open my eyes before you had my cock in your throat. Such a greedy little cumslut.”

You moan at the words and double down- sucking harder, twisting your wrist at the base, letting spit drip down over your fingers. You take him as deep as you can, gagging softly when he hits the back of your throat, eyes watering. Dean’s hand tightens in your hair, not forcing- never forcing-  just holding you there while his hips give tiny, instinctive thrusts.

“That’s it… fuck, baby. Choke on it a little. God, your throat feels so good. Dreamt about your mouth last night.” He’s fully awake now, voice dropping into that low, dominant register that makes your pussy clench. “Keep going. Suck me just like that. Gonna give you what you want.”

You work him faster, messier-  wet, obscene sounds filling the quiet room. Your free hand slides between your own legs, fingers circling your clit while you blow him. You can't help it when he looks like that under you. Dean notices and groans.

“Touching yourself while you swallow my cock? Fuck. You’re so fucking perfect. My perfect filthy girl.” His breathing is getting ragged, abs tightening. “I’m close already. You want it? Want me to come down your throat?”

You pull off just long enough to rasp, “Yes- please-” then sink back down, sucking hard on the head while your hand strokes the rest of him fast and tight.

Dean’s hips jerk. His hand fists in your hair. “Fuck- fuck- swallow it, baby. Every drop. Don’t you dare waste it.”

He comes hard- thick, hot pulses hitting the back of your throat. You swallow around him, throat working, taking every spurt he gives you. Some leaks out the corner of your mouth and you catch it with your tongue, licking him clean while he twitches and curses above you. He tastes bitter and salty and him, and you keep sucking gently through the aftershocks until he’s whimpering from oversensitivity.

“Jesus- fuck, sweetheart-” He pulls you off carefully, chest heaving. His eyes are glassy, lips parted. “Come here. Right now.”

He drags you up his body and kisses you deep and filthy, tasting himself on your tongue. Then he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion, shoves your thighs apart, and buries his face between your legs without another word.

The first drag of his tongue is slow and filthy. He groans at the taste of you- still carrying traces of his cum from the shower. “Fuck, you taste like me. You like my cum leaking out of this pretty pussy all night?” He licks you open, tongue pushing inside, then focuses on your clit- sucking, flicking, circling with perfect pressure.

Two thick fingers slide into you easily. He curls them immediately, finding that spot, fucking you with them while he eats you like you’re the last meal on this Earth. The wet sounds are obscene. Your moans are louder. You hope your neighbors can't hear you but you really don't care anymore. 

“Dean- oh my god- ”

He pulls back just enough to growl against your pussy, “That’s it. Come on my tongue, baby. Need to hear you scream.” Then he dives back in-  messier, rougher, fingers pumping faster, tongue relentless on your clit.

You come hard, back arching off the bed, thighs clamping around his head. Dean doesn’t stop. He works you through it, then gentler, until you’re shaking and whimpering. Only then does he pull back, chin glistening, eyes dark and hungry again. His cock is already hard- flushed, thick, curving up toward his stomach.

“On your stomach,” he orders, voice rough. “Ass up. I’m not done breeding this pussy.”

You scramble to obey, rolling over and pushing up onto your knees, chest down on the mattress. Dean kneels behind you, one big hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your spine to fist in your hair. He doesn’t tease. He lines up and slams into you in one brutal thrust.

You cry out into the pillow. He’s so deep like this, the angle perfect for hitting that spot every time. He doesn’t start slow. He fucks you hard and fast from the first stroke- hips snapping, the wet slap of skin loud in the room, his balls hitting your clit with every thrust.

“Fuck- yes baby- take it,” he snarls, pulling your hair so your back arches deeper. “This is what you woke up for, isn’t it? Wanted me to use this tight cunt first thing in the morning. Wanted another load pumped into you before breakfast.”

You moan brokenly, pushing back to meet every thrust. “Yes- fuck- please please please- ”

Dean growls and gives you exactly that. He fucks you rough- deep, punishing strokes that make the headboard slam against the wall. One hand stays in your hair, the other comes down hard on your ass in a sharp spank that makes you clench around him. He does it again. And again. The sting mixes with the pleasure until you’re sobbing into the sheets.

“Gonna fill you up again,” he pants, voice wrecked. “Gonna breed this pussy so full it leaks out all day. You’re gonna feel me every time you move. Every time you sit down. Mine.”

You come again with a broken scream, walls pulsing around him. Dean follows right after- burying himself to the hilt and grinding deep as he comes, hot pulses flooding you, mixing with everything already inside. He stays there, panting, hips twitching through the aftershocks, one hand stroking soothingly down your spine even as he keeps you pinned.

When he finally pulls out, he watches his cum leak out of you with dark satisfaction. He pushes two fingers back inside, fucking it deeper for a second, then brings them to your mouth. You suck them clean without being asked.

Dean makes a low, possessive sound and pulls you into his arms, rolling you both so you’re tucked against his chest. His heart is hammering under your ear. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, then your temple, then your mouth-  that softness returning to his body. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs against your lips. “Waking me up like that… swallowing every drop… letting me ruin you first thing in the morning…” He chuckles, low and warm. “I’m never letting you go. No amount of time with you is gonna be enough. Might just move in.”

You laugh weakly, still trembling, and nuzzle into his neck. “Good. Because I’m not done with you either.”

He hums, already sounding sleepy again, but his hand slides down to cup your ass possessively. “Rest for a bit. Then I’m making you breakfast… and then I’m bending you over the kitchen counter. Fair warning.”

You smile against his skin, already half-asleep again in the warm circle of his arms.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The kitchen smelled like coffee and bacon by the time Dean decided he was done pretending to be a functional human.

You’d woken up to an empty bed and the sound of him moving around outside your room. When you padded into the kitchen wearing nothing but his oversized flannel, he was at the stove in just his jeans, shirtless, flipping pancakes like this was a normal morning after he’d fucked you stupid twice already.

He glanced over his shoulder, green eyes dragging down your bare legs, and smirked.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sit. I’m making you breakfast before the fun starts again. Need you to have some energy.”

You didn’t sit.

You walked up behind him, pressed your chest to his back, and slid your hands around his waist. One of them went straight for the button of his jeans.

Dean let out a low laugh. “Dangerous game, baby.”

You popped the button anyway. “You started it.”

The pancake on the griddle started to burn.

Dean turned the burner off, spun you around, and bent you over the kitchen counter in one smooth motion. The flannel rode up your back. Cool air hit your skin for half a second before his body covered yours.

“Legs apart,” he ordered, voice already rough again.

You obeyed.

He shoved his jeans down just far enough, lined up, and pushed into you with one hard thrust. You were still wet from earlier- his cum still leaking from your aching cunt-  so he sank in deep on the first stroke. The stretch made you moan into the countertop.

“Fuck, still so tight,” he groaned, one hand gripping your hip, the other braced beside your head. “Gonna fuck you while breakfast gets cold. Worth it.”

He started moving- deep, steady thrusts that rocked you against the edge of the counter. Every time he bottomed out you made a soft, broken sound. The wet slap of skin was loud in the quiet kitchen. His free hand slid under the flannel and grabbed your breast, pinching your nipple.

“Dean-” you gasped.

“Yeah, baby. Say my name. Let the whole neighborhood know who this pussy belongs to.”

He fucked you harder, keeping that rough and filthy pace. One hand fisted in your hair and pulled your head back so he could kiss the side of your neck, teeth scraping.

You were so lost in it you almost didn’t hear the phone buzzing on the counter.

Dean’s phone. Sam’s name lighting up the screen.

He didn’t stop thrusting. He just reached over with one hand, answered, and put it on speaker like an absolute menace.

“Yeah?” he said, voice steady even though he was still buried balls deep in you.

Sam’s voice came through loud and annoyed. “Where the hell are you? You said you’d check in this morning. I’ve been calling for an hour.”

Dean gave a particularly hard thrust that made you bite your lip to stay quiet. “Busy.”

“Busy with what? You were supposed to be back on the road or at least-”

Dean cut him off with a low grunt as he rolled his hips, grinding deep. “Told you. Handling personal business.”

There was a pause on Sam’s end.

Then, suspicious- “Dean… are you seriously- wait. Is that- are you having sex right now?”

Dean’s grin was dubious. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, the sound wet and unmistakable even over the phone.

“What gave it away, Sammy?” he drawled, sarcastic as hell. “The fact that I sound like I’m balls deep in the best pussy I’ve had in years, or the fact that you can hear her trying not to moan?”

You made a choked sound. Dean’s hand came down over your mouth, not to silence you completely- just to muffle it while he kept fucking you slow and deep.

Sam sounded somewhere between horrified and done with his entire existence. “Dean. What the actual fuck. Are you seriously answering the phone while you’re- Jesus Christ, I can hear-  turn the speaker off!”

Dean laughed, low and mean. “Why? You called me. I’m just being polite and keeping you updated on my… current situation.” Another hard thrust. You whimpered against his palm. “She’s doing great, by the way. Real responsive. Taking me so well.”

“Dean, I swear to God-”

“Relax, little brother. I’m on vacation. Two full days, remember? Told you I was taking care of something important.” He leaned down, mouth right by the phone while he kept moving inside you. “And right now that something important is creaming all over my cock. So unless the world is ending in the next ten minutes, I’m gonna hang up and finish what I started.”

Sam made a noise like he was choking. “You are the worst. I hate you. I’m hanging up. Do not call me back until you’re done- actually, never call me back. Ever.”

“Love you too, Sammy,” Dean said cheerfully, and ended the call.

The second the line went dead he pulled his hand off your mouth, grabbed both your hips, and started fucking you in earnest- hard, fast, brutal strokes that had your toes curling and the counter digging deep into your hips enough to guarantee bruises afterwards.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he growled. “Hearing you try to stay quiet while my brother was on the phone. Such a good girl. Such a filthy little slut for me.” He spanked you once, sharp, then rubbed the sting away. “Gonna come again?”

You were already close- the risk, the filth, the way he was using you like he owned you. “Yes- Dean- please- ”

“Come on my cock,” he ordered. “Right now.”

You did. Hard, shaking, walls clamping down around him. Dean followed with a deep groan, burying himself to the hilt and pumping you full again, hot and thick. He stayed inside you through it, grinding slow while you both came down.

For a long moment the only sounds were your breathing and the faint rumble of cars outside.

Dean finally pulled out, watching his cum leak down your thighs with dark satisfaction. He tucked himself back into his jeans, then helped you stand on shaky legs. He turned you around, kissed you slow and deep, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Breakfast is probably ruined,” he said, voice warm and rough. “Worth it.”

You laughed, still floating. “Sam is going to kill you.”

“Sam can get in line.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. “Now sit your pretty, cum filled ass down. I’ll make new pancakes.”

He gave your ass a light slap and turned back to the stove like he hadn’t just answered a phone call from his brother while inside you.

You watched him move around the kitchen- shirtless, satisfied, cocky grin still in place- and felt that same warm, safe feeling settle in your chest.

Later that afternoon, after the pancakes were successfully remade you were both sprawled on the couch in a lazy, satisfied haze.

Dean was tracing lazy patterns on your bare thigh with his fingertips when he suddenly spoke, voice casual but with a hint of something softer underneath.

“So… I was thinking.” He glanced at you, green eyes warm but a little uncertain- like he wasn’t used to asking you for things that didn’t involve getting you naked. “We’ve done a lot of… intense shit. And I like it. A lot. But I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do something normal with me too.”

You blinked at him, confused. “Normal?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost shy. “Yeah. Like… a date. Real one. I pick you up, we go somewhere, I try not to be a complete asshole the whole time.” He gave you that crooked half smirk. “You wanna go out with me, sweetheart?”

You were genuinely shocked. After the phone sex, the filthy pictures, the shower, the kitchen counter, and him answering Sam’s call while he was still inside you… a date felt like a completely different planet. But the way he was looking at you- hopeful, a little vulnerable under all the cocky bravado- made your chest feel warm and tight.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I do. I’d love to.”

Dean’s grin was bright enough to light up the whole room. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and sweet this time. “Good. Get ready then. I wanna see you in something pretty.”

An hour later you were standing in front of the mirror in your cutest sundress- soft yellow with little white flowers, thin straps, the hem flirty and short enough to make Dean’s eyes darken the second he saw you. You’d left your hair down and put on just a little makeup. When you walked downstairs, Dean was waiting by the door and the way he looked at you made your stomach flip.

“Jesus,” he muttered, stepping close and sliding his hands over your waist. “You’re gonna kill me in that thing. I’m trying to be a gentleman here and you show up looking like trouble.”

You laughed. “You like it?”

“Like it?” He leaned down and kissed the side of your neck, voice dropping. “I’m already thinking about how easy it’d be to bend you over in it later. But first…” He pulled back and offered his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman. “Date time.”

He drove. You knew a place- an old abandoned theme park on the outskirts of town that no one went to anymore. Rusted rides, overgrown paths, a creepy but weirdly beautiful kind of forgotten magic. You’d found it years ago and sometimes went there when you needed to feel like the world had stopped for a while.

Dean parked Baby outside the broken gates and whistled low. “Well this is… romantic in a murder-y kind of way. I like it.”

“Figured if there were any real threats here I'd be safest with you.”

You spent the next couple of hours just being together.

You walked the overgrown paths hand-in-hand. Dean boosted you up onto the rusted carousel so you could take stupid selfies with the decrepit horses while he watched you with that soft, stupid smile. You dared each other to go through the dark, creepy funhouse (he held your hand the whole time and pretended he wasn’t spooked by the broken mirrors). He found an old ring toss game still half-standing and spent twenty minutes trying to win you a faded stuffed bear until he finally nailed it and presented it to you like he’d just slain a dragon.

“You’re such a dork,” you told him, laughing as he tucked the bear under his arm.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” he shot back, pulling you in for a kiss that started sweet and quickly turned heated against the side of an old bumper car.

By the time the sun started setting, you were both flushed and laughing, the bear tucked safely in the backseat of the Impala. The air between you had shifted- still sweet from the date, but the tension was thick again. Dean kept glancing at your legs in that sundress. You kept catching him.

He didn’t even make it all the way back to your place.

He pulled Baby off onto a quiet, overgrown access road near the park, killed the engine, and looked over at you with dark eyes.

“Backseat,” he said, voice rough. “Now.”

You climbed over the seat without argument. Dean followed, pulling you into his lap the second you were both in the back. His hands slid up under your sundress immediately, gripping your thighs, pushing the fabric higher.

“Been thinking about fucking you in this dress since the moment I saw you in it. Been trying so hard to be a gentleman but-” he growled against your mouth. “Y’ look so fucking pretty. My pretty girl.”

You straddled him properly, the dress bunched around your waist. He shoved his jeans down just enough and you sank down onto him in one smooth motion. You were still a little sore from earlier, but so wet it didn’t matter. The stretch made both of you moan.

Dean’s head fell back against the seat. “Fuck-  that’s it. Ride me, baby. Just like that.”

You did- slow at first, rolling your hips while his hands gripped your ass under the dress. Then faster, the Impala rocking slightly with every movement. The windows fogged completely. The only sounds were your breathing, the wet slap of skin, and Dean’s low, filthy praise.

“Look at you,” he groaned, one hand sliding up to wrap loosely around your throat while the other guided your hips. “Taking my cock so well in your pretty little sundress. Such a good girl for me. My good girl who lets me fuck her stupid in the backseat of my car after a date.”

You moaned louder at that, clenching around him. He thrust up to meet you, harder now, the angle perfect.

“Gonna come for me?” he panted. “Gonna come all over my cock while we’re parked out here where anyone could walk by? Fuck- do it. Let me feel it.”

You came hard, thighs shaking, forehead pressed to his as you cried out his name. Dean followed right after, pulling you down flush and grinding deep as he filled you up again, his arms wrapped tight around you like he never wanted to let go.

For a long minute you just stayed there- breathing hard, his cock still inside you, his cum starting to leak out around him. He stroked your back under the sundress, pressed soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your mouth.

“Best date I’ve ever been on,” he murmured eventually, voice warm and rough. “And I’ve been on some weird ones.”

You laughed softly against his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, green eyes soft in the dim light. “You make me wanna do normal shit, you know that? Dinners. Dates. All of it. But I’m also never gonna stop wanting to bend you over every surface we pass.”

You smiled and kissed him again. “Good. Because I want both.”

He grinned, that cocky, heart-melting grin, and gave your ass a gentle squeeze. “Then let’s go home, sweetheart.”

He helped you climb back into the front seat (your legs were definitely shaky), tucked the faded stuffed bear into your lap, and started Baby up. The low rumble of the engine filled the car as he pulled back onto the road.

You glanced over at him- messy hair, that satisfied little smirk- and felt that same unnamed feeling settle warm and safe in your chest.

The drive home was quiet in the best way.

Dean kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh the whole way, thumb stroking slow circles over your skin. The faded stuffed bear sat in your lap. Every few minutes he’d glance over at you in that sundress and smile like he still couldn’t believe you’d said yes to the date.

When you finally pulled into your driveway, he killed the engine but didn’t move right away.

“Tomorrow,” he said quietly, staring at the steering wheel. “I gotta head out in the morning. Sam’s already blowing up my phone about some case two states over.”

Your chest tightened. You knew this was coming- he’d said two days from the start- but hearing it out loud still hit different after everything.

You reached over and laced your fingers with his. “Stay tonight?”

He turned to look at you, eyes soft. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere until morning.”

Later, you were both in your bed, the lights low, Dean in just his boxers and you still wearing the sundress because he kept saying how much he liked it on you. You were curled against his chest, tracing the scar on his shoulder, when the words slipped out before you could overthink them.

“I was thinking…” You looked up at him. “Since you have to leave tomorrow… would you want to record us fucking? So you have something for the road.”

Dean went very still.

You felt your face heat up. “I mean- like, on your phone. Audio or video, whatever you want. So when you’re alone in some shitty motel and missing this… you can listen. Or watch. I just thought… maybe you’d want something to remember me by. Something that's just us.”

For a second he just stared at you, like he was trying to process what you’d just offered. Then that slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face- the one that always made your stomach flip.

“You serious?” His voice had dropped an octave. “You want me to record us fucking so I can jerk off to it later while I’m on the road?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. If you want.”

Dean let out a low, filthy groan and rolled you onto your back in one smooth motion, settling between your thighs. “Fuck, baby. You have no idea how hot that is.” He kissed you hard, then pulled back just enough to look at you. “Yeah. I want that. I want a video of you taking my cock. I want to hear you moaning my name when I’m miles away and can’t have you. I want something I can watch on loop in the middle of the night when I’m hard and missing this pussy.”

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, opened the camera, and set it up on the dresser across from the bed, angling it so it would catch everything.

Dean looked back at you, eyes dark and hungry.

“Last chance to change your mind, sweetheart.”

You shook your head. “Do it.”

He grinned, wicked and pleased, then stripped the sundress off you in one motion and tossed it aside. He shoved his boxers down, climbed back between your legs, and lined up without any more teasing.

He thrust deep and you moaned. Dean’s hand came up to gently grip your throat as he started moving. “Look at you. Already so wet for me. Been fucking you all day and you still can’t get enough.”

He fucked you slow and deep at first, making sure the camera caught every inch of him disappearing inside you. Then he picked up the pace, the headboard starting to knock against the wall.

“Tell them how it feels, baby,” he ordered, eyes locked on yours. “Tell the camera how good my cock feels stretching this tight little pussy.”

You turned your head toward the phone, voice shaky and wrecked. “Feels so good- Dean- fuck, you’re so deep-”

“That’s my girl.” He grabbed your thighs and pushed them back toward your chest, folding you nearly in half as he started fucking you harder. The cruise wet sounds filled the air around you. “You hear that? That’s how soaked she is for me. Been filling her up all day and she’s still greedy for more.”

He reached down and rubbed your clit in tight circles while he pounded into you. “Gonna come for me while I’m recording? Gonna show me how pretty you look when you fall apart?”

You did. It was like his permission were the magic words for you to fall apart- hard, back arching, crying out his name as your walls clamped down around him. Dean groaned and fucked you through it, then pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up.

“Ass up. I want a good shot of me breeding this pussy.”

He grabbed the phone off the dresser to get a better angle before slamming back in from behind, his other hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. The new angle was devastating. Every thrust punched a moan out of you.

“Fuck- look at that,” he growled, watching his cock dissapear in and out of your abused cunt. “Taking every inch like a good little slut. This is what I’m gonna be watching when I’m alone. This is what I’m gonna come to every night until I can get back here and do it again.”

He fucked you rough and filthy, the bed creaking, skin slapping, your moans getting louder and more desperate. When you came again he followed right after, burying himself deep and grinding as he pumped you full, groaning your name like a prayer.

Dean slowly pulled out, watching his cum leak out of you with dark satisfaction. He got the camera real close to your pussy before pushing his cum back in with two thick fingers before stopping the recording. Then he rolled you onto your back and kissed you deep and slow.

“Fuck, baby…” he murmured against your lips. “That was the hottest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I’m gonna watch that every single night I’m gone. Probably multiple times a night.”

You smiled, still floating, and stroked his cheek. “Good. I want you thinking about me.”

He huffed a soft laugh and pulled you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “Like I could stop.” His fingers traced patterns on your back. “I’m gonna miss you like hell. But having that video… it’s gonna make it a little easier. Knowing I can hear you come for me even when I’m not here.”

You stayed like that for a long time- fighting back the feeling in your chest that you really didn't wanna name. It felt futile. 

Dean had to leave in the morning.

But tonight he was still here. Holding you. Kissing the top of your head. Already planning when he could come back.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next morning came too fast.

You woke up first, still tangled in Dean’s arms, your head on his chest and one of his legs hooked over yours like he’d been trying to keep you close even in his sleep. The sun was barely up when his phone started vibrating violently on the nightstand.

Sam. Multiple missed calls. A string of increasingly annoyed texts.

Sam: Where are you?  

Sam: You were supposed to be on the road an hour ago.  

Sam: Dean. Seriously. Answer your damn phone.

Dean groaned without opening his eyes, voice rough with sleep. “Tell Sammy to fuck off.”

You smiled against his skin and reached over to grab his phone, reading the messages out loud in a dramatic voice. “He says you were supposed to be on the road an hour ago.”

Dean cracked one eye open, saw the time, and cursed under his breath. “Shit.” He rolled you onto your back and kissed you slow and deep, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I really don’t wanna leave.”

“I know,” you whispered.

He stayed like that for another minute, just breathing you in, before he finally forced himself to sit up. You watched him get dressed- jeans, t-shirt, flannel- every movement slower than usual. Like he was stalling.

When he was ready, duffel bag by the door, he turned back to you. You were still in bed wearing nothing but his shirt from yesterday, knees pulled up to your chest. The sight of you made something flicker across his face- soft and a little pained.

“C’mere,” he said quietly.

You climbed out of bed and walked straight into his arms. He held you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your waist like he could keep you there if he just held on hard enough.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he murmured into your hair. “More than I probably should after only two days. But fuck… you got under my skin, sweetheart.”

You squeezed him tighter. “You got under mine too.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, green eyes serious. “That video… I’m keeping it. I’m gonna watch it every night I’m gone. And when I get back- and I will come back- we’re making more. As many as you’ll let me.”

You smiled, eyes a little glassy. “Deal.”

Dean kissed you one last time- slow, deep, and full of everything he wasn’t saying out loud. When he finally stepped back, he picked up his bag and headed for the door. You followed him outside.

Baby was already waiting for him. He tossed his bag in the backseat, then turned to you one more time. His hand came up to cup your cheek.

“Be safe,” he said. “Text me when you’re thinking about me. Or when you’re touching yourself.”

You laughed wetly. “Bossy even when you’re leaving.”

“Damn right.” He kissed your forehead, then climbed into the Impala. The engine rumbled louder as he put it in reverse. He gave you one last look through the open window- that cocky smirk softened by something real. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

You stood in the driveway and watched him drive away until the Impala disappeared down the road.

He texted you before he’d even made it out of town.

Dean 😝: already miss that pretty pussy and the way you looked in my shirt this morning

A few hours later, while you were trying (and failing) to focus on anything else..

Dean 😝: stopped for gas and watched thirty seconds of that video in the car.. almost came in my jeans like a teenager… youre dangerous baby

The messages kept coming all day and into the night- a perfect mix of sweet and filthy that made your chest ache and your thighs press together at the same time.

Dean 😝: sam keeps giving me shit for smiling at my phone… told him to mind his own business… unless he wants to know im thinking about how good you sounded when I was recording us 😎

Dean 😝: you doing okay? did you eat something today? if you touch yourself later send me a voice note I wanna hear it

Dean 😝: missing you bad already sweetheart

By the time you were done with the day, you were curled up in bed with your phone in your hand, rereading his messages with a small, warm smile on your face.

Dean 😝: at the motel.. hate it here… thinking about you in that yellow sundress thinking about how easy it was to bend you over in it.. be good for me until I get back 😈

You typed back slowly, heart feeling strangely full even though he was already hundreds of miles away.

You: I will. Please stay safe. And Dean?

Dean 😝: yeah baby?

You: Come back soon.

There was a long pause. Then..

Dean 😝: counting the days already.. sleep well sweetheart... dream about me

You set your phone on the nightstand and stared up at the ceiling for a while, the same ceiling that used to feel heavy and haunted. It didn’t anymore.

You could still feel him- in the ache between your legs, in the faint scent of his cologne on your sheets, in the way your phone kept lighting up with his name.

And deep down, in a place that felt steady and sure, you knew this wasn’t the end.

[inadoves]

Hii here are some p links that i feel like is how Sam's bulge would look like when he's fucking you.

🥀 on X: "https://t.co/1Ce007AHdY" / X

Horny Posts🔞 on X: "tummy bulging >>> https://t.co/a7ozmYAlXE" / X

mommy on X: "oh how i love belly bulges #nsfw #bbc #bwc #girl #solo #creampie #squirt #boobs #anal https://t.co/nMVLll0Gel" / X

祐 on X: "瞪大了我的双眼 https://t.co/5eAryyetrw" / X

oh my god yes yes yes and yes 10 points for you 😭😭😭😭 bless your heart🥹🥹🥹🥹

[inadoves]

everyone needs to see these again i dont make the rules

[withluvmia]

pervert dean winchester headcannons

part two

cw: smut. literally just filth. mdni. somnophillia

↬pervert dean who likes to jerk off next to you while you sleep. you're used to sharing beds with the brothers when you're on hunts with them. it was bound to happen. you're on your stomach, cute face scrunched up and pressed into the pillow. he'd want to be the one pressing your face into the pillow. the blanket is pulled down revealing the soft curve of your ass. he spent too many nights going to sleep with an uncomfortable boner. so he decided one night he was going to take care of it. pulling his hard cock from his sweatpants, the tip leaking precum. he'd struggle to keep his groans quiet as he kept his lidded gaze on you. your brows furrowing as you shifted in your sleep, an adorable little expression making him throb all the more. he pumped himself in quick movements finally reaching his peak as thick spurts of come landed on his stomach. he had to bite down on his lip with a strained grunt. the next morning you'd innocently ask him why his lip's bleeding. bonus if he stuffs your panties into his mouth while he jerks off to keep himself quiet.

↬ pervert dean who steals your panties when you and Sam pop out to the gas station. he'd make sure the door was locked behind you. as soon as he heard the car drive off, he'd go through your suitcase overlooking the freshly washed ones and going straight for the cute little pair you had on last night. his heart would skip a beat when he finds it, immediately bringing it up to his nose and breath in your scent letting out a loud dirty moan. he'd carefully zip your suitcase and head straight for the bathroom, uncomfortably hard against his jeans. he'd wrap the cotton around his cock and jerk off imagining it was your pretty hands wrapped around him. he'd stuff the cum filled panties in his jeans afterwards.

↬pervert dean who can't help but stare at your ass when you walk by. you'd be questioning someone about a recent folklore sighting only for him to zone out halfway, tilting his head as he stares at your plump figure filling your jeans. he'd imagine what it'd look like fucking you from behind, your ass jiggling with each thrust. how divine the flesh would feel between his fingers leaving angry bruises in it's wake. or how you'd look, reverse cow girl, bouncing on him. the plush of your ass hitting his crotch as your sopping pussy squeezes around him.

↬ pervert dean who'd wrap an arm around you at night and pull you close under the guise of it being cold. you choose to ignore the hard heat pressing against your ass. he begrudgingly has to hold himself back from humping you. the smallest friction drives him crazy. his arm tightens around your waist. he waits until you're asleep before starting to rut against you, breaths coming out in quiet pants. the bulge of his cock slides against your warm thighs as he chases his release. his hand would slide down into your panties and curse against your neck when he felt the wetness gathered there. fingers circling your clit as he bites back a call of your name. your reaction pushed him over the edge. you shift, face scrunching together in pleasure as you moaned softly in your sleep gushing around his fingers. the next morning you're confused as always at the arousal dripping out of you and soaking your panties.

[acklesslvt]

༊*·˚ oh my god get up 😭😭😭😭 you're embarrassing me 😭😭😭 i know u want the strap but wait until we're home 😭😭😭

[legalmente-loca-blog]

Pairing: Priest!Sam Winchester x Demon!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Mention of semen, sexual topics

Legal's notes: Not me coming out of my break to focus on my first semester of university because I saw a TikTok with this theme.

“So, Father… You believe in demons?”

Sam shifted in his seat, curious. What could possibly be the reason for such a question from someone he’d never seen at church before?

“I firmly believe that inside every person there is a demon and an angel fighting for control.”

“Oh, Father, tch, tch, tch.” You shook your head, clicking your tongue. “That’s not what I meant.” You slid your elbows over the top of the pew he was sitting on, leaning forward. “I mean actual demons.” You whispered. “Demons that are among people, acting like them, dressing like them.” You shrugged and looked around. “Even coming here to listen to your sermons like them.”

Sam smiled and sighed. A demon on holy ground was impossible in his eyes. Whether or not he believed in them as something of flesh and blood, something like that could never cross the threshold.

“Whether or not demons are to be material creatures like us, my dear, they could never enter here.”

“And why is that, Father?”

“This is sacred ground, my child. Evil cannot cross this territory.”

You nodded slowly and pursed your lips.

“That’s what I was saying. But you see, I was able to.”

Sam straightened up and frowned, thinking he hadn’t heard correctly or that you were joking, but your gaze was serious and your words didn’t waver when spoken.

“Is your semen just as sacred, Father?”

He couldn’t even utter a word. Perhaps because he was too confused thinking about what you might have meant, or perhaps because, almost immediately, you reached out and ripped off the cross necklace he was wearing. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, extending it fully. The next moment, you placed the metal cross against your tongue. A sound like a grill sizzling meat filled the air, and Sam's eyes widened in shock. You remained motionless, not a single eyelash twitching as your tongue muscle was burned away, leaving only fragments on the small cross. You pulled it away, and he could clearly see the mark his collar had left, black and red. You put your tongue back in your mouth and sighed.

”You see? If that semen is as sacred as this ground, it won’t do me any harm.” You shrugged and lifted the cross by its cord. “But if it’s as sacred as this cross,” you nodded toward it, “I’ll tolerate it just the same. What do you say? What’s your bet?” You rested your chin on your hand as the cross swayed from side to side. “How sacred do you think your semen is… Father?”

Sam Winchester Imagines/Headcanons

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Masterlist

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[graveyarrdshift]

women's thighs. you agree. reblog.

[icybarness]

What He Loves

Pairings: Clark Kent x reader | Wc: 876

Notes: Wrote this so quick please don’t judge… Check out my masterlist and Kent Fam of 3 masterlist!!

Summary: You thought it was embarrassing how easily you blushed, but Clark ought to find it adorable.

Warnings: Clark showering you with acts of love and through words, including in the bedroom... Soft! Clark all around, loves and LOVES to compliment you, him talking you through it, creampies, passionate sex!

Clark always finds you blushing to be one of his favorite little traits of yours whenever he acts on anything towards you.

The first time he asked you out at your doorstep, your favorite pink lilies in one hand, asking you to be his, as your cheeks rose into a pink hue that made you in awe as you’d never felt before. “How did you know these were my favorite?” you stammered out of a quiet shock, the kindness you never knew that was deserved for you.

And he took notice right away. Your cheeks that heat up, your soft smile from your lips that makes him fall more into you every time.

“Of course, I remember you mentioning them to me not long ago, Is–Is that okay?” as he pushed his glasses towards his face, the wary question as he met your gaze for an answer.

“More than okay, Clark.”

---------------

Or the time he knew your order by heart at the Deli down the street from the Daily Planet.

No hesitation in his voice to the Deli man. “Can I get a toasted ham and cheese on wheat, easy mayo, extra pickles?” he said smoothly before, “Make that two, thank you.”

And by the time he arrived at your desk, bag in hand, your cheeks heated with the same pink tint that he loved. “How did you know what I get?” as you softly smiled before taking the sandwich out of his hands.

“Hmm I just know,” shrugging off like it was nothing much to think about, but in reality, his heart fluttered from the joy of your reaction.

Where the two of you quietly enjoyed lunch together at your desk, talking about the day ahead of you in peace.

---------------

Even compliments you couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating. 

And Clark couldn’t help it, you were beautiful and did everything so well. The compliments that roll off his tongue with ease, showering you with love.

“Your top is nice today, sweetheart.”

“The meal you made tonight was delicious.”

“You look beautiful always.”

Dare to say your face was beaming pink—caught off guard by it in the best way possible. Yet Clark always loved it, as it sometimes felt embarrassing to you at times.

“This is so embarrassing Clark-I don’t know why I get pink all the time!” you huffed before covering your face in a slight embarrassment, feeling the need to cover your face from the rest of the world.

“It’s not embarrassing, it’s cute sweetheart—it's what makes you, you,” as he pulled you into his arms and you gladly accepted, letting him kiss the crown of your head out of reassurance. “I love it about you, never be embarrassed.”

---------------

In bed was different.

Clark, who loved to bring it out of you, every single expression formed on your face, the fluster you get in the moment, within the thick air that consumes both of you, bodies that were nearly conjoined together.

His cock that drags in and out of you, pulling every sound from your lips, a beautiful sound that he only gets to hear. The way your face contorts in pleasure, where the veins from his shaft are felt in your insides.

“Mmmph C—Clark!” you meweled out, your legs that were brought higher around his waist, the classic missionary position where he can see all of you, especially the faces you make just from him, where  he gets to compliment you all he wants while watching you.

“I know, I know, sweetheart. Doing good just for me,” he groaned in your ear before nibbling a part of your ear, as you felt his head hitting the sweet spot over and over. “You're so beautiful for me, everything about you, honey. Thank you for letting me praise you like this.”

And the most intimate compliment, where your cheeks rose in a pink hue, where your moans filled the air as you were slowly coming to a release.

“Ngh— Clark I-I’m close!” you stammered before hiding into the crook of his neck the ecstasy that was leaving you a moaning mess.

“Honey let me see, don’t hide, let me see that beautiful face when you come, hmm?” he reassured with a soft huff, swiftly tapping the side of your head to bring your attention back to him, where he can watch you.

Hips snapping with every thrust, his eyes connecting with yours, feeling the way you squeeze around him from a release that makes his breath hitch every time.

And all came crashing down on you. The moan from the feeling that left you shaking from the orgasm that was drawn from you, your eyes that fell closed as you felt his white sticky load in you right after his release.

His cock that stilled in you for a moment, where the heavy breaths from both of you were slowly settling down, where Clark reached to connect his lips to your face, kissing all over, before reaching your lips. “I love you,” he whispered before taking note of your daze, your cheeks pink, the smile that was left across your face that was just for him.

And he would definitely show how much he loved you every night if he could.

Taglist: @clarknsun @tw1sters @kryptidfiles @anon-188 @orobaxis

[cinna-creme]

a/n: i think i miss my wife - back to kiri and bkgsqd slop soon !

“lemme suck on it.” you whine, pawing at katsuki’s sweats.

“oh my god.” he side eyes you and scoots to the other end of the couch.

“c’mon pretty.” you purr.

“you sound like a creep.” his blush rises up his neck.

“so it’s a crime to think my boyfriend is hot?” you crawl into his lap. “and pretty.” you bury your fingers in his hair. “and ridiculously cute when he’s blushing.”

“you-” he groans when you roll your hips. “you asked to suck on it.” his pupils blown wide.

“mhm.” you lean down and press your lips to his neck.

you grind your hips against lap, feeling his cock start to harden beneath you with your slow movements. his phone is forgotten and his hands find your waist while you hump against him. you tug his hair and tilt his neck back, smirking at the groan that leaves his lips.

“does my pretty boy want a kiss?” you whisper, lips brushing against his softly.

“yes.” he squeezes your hips.

you press your lips to his and roll your hips, tugging softly at his hair as he groans into your mouth. you pull back and he slowly blinks up at you, lips a little more swollen. he leans up for another but you sit back, grinding against him a little harder.

“ask.” you look down at him.

“another kiss.” he’s breathless already.

“good boy.” his hips jerk up into yours. “ohhh i know, baby.”

your lips fall to his and you quicken your movements, knowing it won’t take much when he’s already so reactive. he gasps when your tongue slides agaisnt his, caressing and guiding while he melts below you. he’s moaning into your mouth, hips canting up on their own accord as the pleasure rises in his lower abdomen.

“fuck your gonna make me cum.” he tosses his head back and you press your lips to his throat.

“want you to cum for me.” you nod, grazing your teeth against his hot skin. “then we’ll take a shower.”

“what-hic! what about you?” his hands on your hips clamp down and move you faster.

“want you to cum for me katsuki.” you whisper. “be a good boy and cum.” you smile feel the full body tremor and then the way his thighs stiffen as he fills his pants. “that’s good, baby.” you place one last kiss on his neck and get up to lead him to the shower.

[inadoves]

soulless sam who makes you crawl to him intoxicated and laughs, says mean things and pushes his chair back just when you’re about to reach him, laughing even more when you stumble and struggle…ouu shii he don’t need fixing he fine JUST as he is

soulless sam who purposely gets you super drunk just to watch you like this awww so cuteeee

“oh, come on. the car’s just a few feet away.” he exhales deeply, turning his head and watching you stumble close behind. you’ve got a small limp, stumbling around like a foal and trying to keep up with him. you’ve got a scrunched up look on your face, cheeks pink and brows tight. “m-my feet hurt..” you blubber. he rolls his eyes.

“gotta keep going. who told you to have all those drinks?”

“you did!”

sam snorts. “you’re right, i did.”

he makes you walk a few more feet until he stops. he turns, smiles, crosses his arms. “you’re slacking, sweetheart. gotta walk faster.” you huff, wiping hair away from your face like a disgruntled kid. you take a step.. then another.. and one more. you fall.

that asshole stopped a few feet from a rock and let you walk into his trap. the asphalt hits your face like a smack to the face. you know what they say: the ground will win every time.

sniffles and tears fill dewy air as you begin to cry, your heart extra sensitive from your inebriation. sam’s lips curl up but you can’t see it.

he steps a bit back, crouches in front of you with a sweet smile. “are you okay?” he coos, reaching and brushing his fingertips over your hair. you whine and shake your head, too upset to bother trying to lift your body. “must hurt. gotta get up though, okay? come to me and i’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

reluctantly, you nod. you aren’t sure if you can trust him but your aching body outweighs any doubt. slowly you rise to your knees, rubbing your face with your hands. he beckons you like a puppy. “just come. i’m not gonna lie to you, baby. can rest all you want after this.”

your hands and knees shift on the floor, pebbles and dirt scraping at your skin as you shuffle towards him. every time you get too close, he inches away unnoticeably. your head spins, confusion and upset blossoming in your head while he keeps that taunting little smirk.

“s-stop that,” you sob, blinking away tears so they run down your cheeks. sam shakes his head. “stop what? you’re too slow.” you give in again—stupidly—and crawl a few more feet.

god, he is getting a fucking kick out of this.

at some point you give up and just start crying. it’s the highlight of his evening.

he crouches in front of you, smiling softly at your crocodile tears. “shh, i was just messing around. i’ll carry you now, okay?”

“y-you’re such an asshole! just- just wanted me to look stupid, just wanted to laugh at me— don’t touch me!” you whack his hand away, rubbing at your face and smearing crumbs of dirt. he grabs at you again and you struggle more. “sweetheart, do you want to walk or not?”

“would rather walk than be carried by you!”

sam shakes his head. his grip tightens so he can stand with you, hauling you up off the ground. you whine and push. “goodness. i said i would carry you, so be a little grateful, okay? now up you go!”

you hug his neck as he lifts you, cradling you to his body. you cry into him, rubbing your face all over the shoulder of his jacket and his neck. he hates the wetness, but you deserve a little treat after that, don’t you.

[onyx-di-angelo]

[orteil42]

given the current climate this pride especially i feel i must mention that i love my trans friends, i stand with trans people in the fight against transphobic legislation and those who would enforce it, and this blog is not a good place for you to be if you do not vibe with that

[biglychee]

Satiated & Subdued

$ log - you got annoyed with vampire!dean winchester's constant whining for blood, so you finally satiate him! $ warn --gn!reader --dom!reader --top!reader --sub!dean --fingersucking --degradation --hair-pulling --power-dynamics $ wc -w 1.3k $ cd masterlist $ tag @twentytomidnight !

The bunker was suffocatingly quiet, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the ancient ventilation system and the obnoxious, repetitive drone of the television. The blue light of the screen washed over the room in cold, sickly waves, highlighting the tension in your shoulders. On the couch, Dean was a restless, irritating presence. He wasn't just hungry; he was vocal about it.

Every groan, every sharp exhale, and every snide, half hearted comment about how "empty" he felt was designed to grate on your nerves. He was leaning into that classic Winchester bravado, using sass to mask the desperation clawing at his insides.

He shifted his weight, the leather of the couch creaking under him, and threw another biting remark about how "some people" were being stingy with the good stuff.

It was a performance, a way to keep the monster at bay with a layer of Winchester snark, but you could see the way his eyes tracked the pulse in your neck.

You rolled your eyes, the sheer audacity of his whining finally snapping your patience.

Without a word, you crossed the small distance between you. Before he could launch into another pathetic, hungry plea, you reached down and gripped his shoulders, forcing him off the couch. He let out a startled, undignified huff as you pushed him down, forcing him to his knees between your legs.

He blinked up at you, the confusion momentarily breaking through his mask. He tried to recover, tilting his head back with a lopsided, sleazy grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What’s this?" he murmured, his voice rough and thick with a hunger he could no longer hide. "You finally decided to give in?"

You didn't answer.

Instead, you reached for a spare blade on the coffee table, the cold steel catching the dim light. With a deliberate motion, you pricked the pads of your fingertips, the small droplets of blood welling up instantly. Dean’s pupils dilated, his gaze locking onto your hand with a predatory intensity that made the air between you heavy and thick.

You reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair to tilt his head back, exposing his throat and forcing him to look up at you. The sleazy grin faltered, replaced by a raw, desperate yearning. You pressed your fingers against his lips, the scent of your blood hitting him like a physical blow.

"Suck," you commanded, your voice low and devoid of warmth.

He didn't hesitate.

The moment his lips parted, the last of his bravado vanished. He lunged forward with a low, guttural sound, his mouth enveloping your fingertips with a desperate, uncoordinated hunger. The sensation was electric, the warmth of his mouth, the frantic pull of his tongue as he tried to draw every precious drop from your skin.

As he fed, you didn't make it easy. You leaned back, watching him with a look of amused disdain, your free hand winding into the thick hair at the nape of his neck.

When he began to suck too hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your fingertips with a sharp, stinging pressure, you gave a firm, punishing tug. He let out a muffled, choked sound against your hand, nearly gagging as you forced his rhythm to break, making him struggle for air before he could settle back into the feast.

"Look at you," you whispered, your voice dripping with a mocking sweetness that cut through the heavy silence of the bunker. "Needed your best friend this bad, huh, Dean?" You let out a sharp, mocking huff of laughter, watching the way his throat worked as he swallowed greedily.

The sight of the legendary hunter, reduced to a kneeling, desperate animal at your feet, was a delicious irony. "Fucking bastard. Just using me for blood, aren't you? All that whining just to get you to this point."

He tried to pull back for a second, a flash of wounded pride flickering in his dark, blown out eyes. But you tightened your grip on his hair, pulling his head back sharply to keep him anchored. He let out a low, needy whine that was far more animal than man.

"Don't you dare stop," you hissed, your voice a blend of command and condescension. You leaned forward, your eyes tracing the frantic movement of his jaw. You deliberately slid your fingers deeper into his mouth, forcing him to accommodate the intrusion of your knuckles as he struggled to swallow around them.

The sensation was thick and wet, the friction of his tongue against your skin sending a jolt of sensation up your arm. He let out a muffled, desperate groan, his eyes rolling back in a trance of pure, unadulterated gluttony.

Every time he tried to regain a semblance of his usual composure, you’d remind him of his place, either by tugging his hair until his scalp stung or by shoving your fingers deeper, making him choke slightly on the sheer intensity of the offering.

He was a mess of contradictions, a hunter, a hero, and right now, a starving dog at your feet, completely undone by the very person he usually tried to impress with his bravado. You watched him, a smirk playing on your lips, savouring the absolute dominance of the moment.

The heavy, rhythmic sound of his swallowing finally began to taper off, replaced by a softer, more rhythmic sensation. You felt the wet, sandpaper texture of his tongue performing a slow, sweeping lick across your fingertips, a feline, satisfied gesture that signalled the beast had finally been satiated. The frantic desperation in his throat smoothed out into a low, contented hum.

With a smirk of pure triumph, you withdrew your digits from his mouth. The sudden absence of your skin left him looking momentarily dazed, his lips glistening and redder than usual.

Before he could even attempt to reclaim his dignity, you brought your hand down, delivering a series of sharp, stinging smacks against his jaw. The sound of palm hitting skin echoed in the quiet bunker, treating him no differently than a disobedient pet.

"There we go," you mocked, your voice dripping with condescending satisfaction. "Bloodthirst all satisfied now, huh? You'll stop whining like a fucking cunt now?”

Dean sat there for a moment on the floor, his chest heaving as he fought to pull air back into his lungs. The predatory haze in his eyes was slowly receding, replaced by a heavy, post feed lethargy that made him look uncharacteristically soft. He wiped a stray smear of red from his chin with the back of his hand, his gaze following you as you stood up with effortless grace.

"Yeah," he finally managed, his voice a husky, wrecked mumble. It wasn't quite the suave Dean Winchester the world knew; it was the voice of a man who had just been thoroughly tamed. He offered a faint, sheepish nod of thanks, his eyes lingering on you with a mixture of lingering hunger and newfound respect.

You didn't linger to bask in his gaze or wait for a witty retort that likely wouldn't come. You had already exerted your dominance, and the satisfaction of seeing him so thoroughly undone was enough. 

Turning on your heel, you began to walk away, the rhythmic click of your footsteps on the bunker floor the only sound in the heavy silence.

"You better rest up, Dean," you called back over your shoulder, your voice regaining its usual sharp, teasing edge. "I don't want to see you being a bratty little bitch on the next hunt just because you're feeling sluggish."

You didn't look back to see if he was going to throw a snarky comment your way or simply sink back into the couch in a blood drunk stupor. You already knew the answer. He was satisfied, he was quiet, and for once, he was exactly where you wanted him: humbled.

$ cd masterlist

[foeofcolor]

Only day you can rb this