āā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„Ā°āā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„ Wassup! This is Ari, this is my side account!! Ā°āā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„Ā°āā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„
āā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„Ā°āā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„ Hii<3 This is my second account, I've made this to mainly reblog all the posts that I like or relate to but mostly, I'll be reblogging stories written by other writers and if I feel like, then I'll reblog my stories!
āā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„Ā°āā.ą³ąæ*:ļ½„ Wanna talk bout some unhinged, funny, horny, sad or random thoughts to me? Oh, I'm here for it baby! Guess what? Even I write stories! So, read all my stories on @satraxia which is my writing account!
Credits to @cursed-carmine for the cute dividers! And yes, I made the sam, XI and dean divider on my own!! Listen to the songs that i listen to while imagining scenarios about my pretty sammy<3
summary:Ā turns out even winchesters have their limits
tags/warnings: fluff, set in everybody loves a clown, sam and reader are just friends who might like each other, yes hes 6'4 but hes just a baby, clowns, coulrophobia, requested fic
request - Hiiiii, Could I request a fem!reader x Sam Winchester fic where they aren't a couple yet, based on the episode "Everybody Loves a Clown"? Maybe they could be investigating a murder at a circus, and at some point include the line, "You can hold my hand, if you want."
Between the three of you, you were sure youād covered the entire carnival. Clad in your unflattering new uniforms Dean had headed north to the small roller coasters and food stands. Youād taken prize games and bathrooms, figuring it was better you were the one lurking around the menās porta-potties than the boys around in the womenās. And Sam had taken the rest, fun houses and wall of illusions and the raft of benches where families had congregated.
Youād cleared your entire section and found nothing. No EMF, no supposed ghost. And figuring Dean wouldāve spotted an opportunity to get himself fed by now, you decided you were better heading toward Sam.
You found him near the funhouse, which seemed as stale as youād imagine it. He had his head down, picking up trash as instructed with a subtle glance down every now and then that told you he was looking at the EMF reader in his pocket. Though as he looked away you figured heād come up as empty as you had.
āMissed a spot,ā you said, taking him off guard as you bounded up beside him, plucking the candy wrapper heād not spotted up off the floor as you went.
āWhat?ā he asked, looking in his own world until he realised it was you who was speaking and not a customer, āoh. Yeah, right.ā
āAre you okay?ā you asked.
āFine,ā Sam mumbled taking the offending plastic from your hand before he shoved it in the trash bag. He looked distracted and uncertain, but you brushed it off, asking, āso, did you find anything?ā
āNo, not yet,ā he said, āyou?ā
āNah, nothing. And Iāve covered the entire side near the entrance,ā you said. Sam nodded.
āAre you done around here?ā you asked. Sam hesitated, his eyes flicking to the fun house. You watched as he shifted uneasily, muttering, āno, not yet.ā
āWhereās left?ā you asked.
āFunhouse.ā
āOkay, well, we can both do it. Might even be fun,ā you snorted, already moving towards it.
But as you moved away, you felt the absence of his footsteps behind you, and when you turned you found him still standing there, like he was rooted to the spot.
āYou coming?ā
āYeah,ā Sam said, though his feet didnāt move. You frowned, stepping back toward him.
āEverything okay?ā you asked.
āFine.ā
āOkayā¦soā¦ā you took another dramatic step back but again he didnāt budge. He just looked at you, as helpless as a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound man possibly could.
āSam, whatās going on?ā
āNothing.ā
āSam.ā
Sam just sighed, refusing to meet your eyes as he muttered, āI just have thisā¦thing.ā
āWhat thing?ā you asked.
āJustā¦promise you wont laugh?ā he asked, checking your face for a reaction. You suppressed a smile and nodded.
āI hate clowns.ā
āOkay,ā you drawled softly, pushing down the amusement prickling inside you considering youād seen this man take on ghosts, vampires, and demons without batting an eye. You looked towards the funhouse, the mouth of which was shaped like a clownās face.
āThis whole case kinda has me on edge,ā he admitted quietly.
āWell I can go on my own,ā you offered.
āWhat if itās in there?ā
āSo?ā
āSo youāll need back up.ā
āOkay so back me up?ā you said. Sam dropped his gaze to the floor, and you sighed gently, ālook, you either come in with me, or I go alone. Not seeing any other options here.ā
āOkay,ā Sam muttered.
You led the way to the funhouse, the pair of you depositing your trash paraphernalia around the back before you headed up the stairs. Sam stalled at the entrance, reluctant to enter through the ghoulish white mouth.
You waited. but he didnāt move.
āYou can hold my hand if you want,ā you said, offering it forward with a soft smile. Sam felt his heart speed up, but he cleared his throat and shook his head.
āNah Iām good,ā Sam lied, though mainly because he could feel his palms already sweating. You felt your face fall but forced a smile and nodded as you ducked through the curtain. Sam followed right on your heels.
As expected, it was dark inside, exhibits pinned every couple of yards in garish neon. A fake graveyard on one side. A pack of mechanical zombies on the other. You stepped forward, pulling your EMF reader out of your pocket.
Nothing.
āGot anything?ā Sam asked, trying to keep his heart from hammering in his chest.
āNothing,ā you said.
āMaybe itās not haunting the carnival,ā he said, moving closer to you, enough to make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.
āMaybe not,ā you agreed. After all your vics had all died at home. Whatever it was couldāve followed them from outside the parking lot. You carried on walking, Sam practically glued to your shoulder as you thought on it.
āBut it goes after kids, right?ā
āRight,ā Sam replied.
āSo it has to find them somewhere. I mean probably not in here, kids arenāt gonna be more than two feet from their mom or dad walking through here so itās probably out in the JESUS FUCKING CHRIST-ā
You shrieked as a clown popped out from a spring-loaded board above you right in your face. You felt your heart hammering in your chest. Your breath coming in pants as you hit the thing out of the way once you realised it was just a cheap jump scare.
āGod, I hate these things,ā you said, turning to look at Sam. He was faring worse than you. Heād lost all colour in his face and was stock still. And you noticed his hand was clasped tight around yours, palms sweating and grip tight enough to turn your fingers white.
āCome on,ā you said, but as you went to slip your hand out, he grabbed it tighter cementing his other around your wrist to keep the pair of you locked together. You paused, watching his pleading eyes and then nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before you gently led him through the maze.
Thankfully, the other pop ups were weak, buried in the attractions with dramatic ghost ooh and ahs that helped take the sting out of them because they were poorly timed.
Still, youād never been as thankful to see daylight as you did when you got to the exit. Sam didnāt let go once you got outside, and you didnāt make him. You just led him back to where youād dumped your stuff, allowing him to rest against the wooden wall where he finally let go. He let his head hit the wood, his eyes closing as he tried to calm himself down.
You watched him worriedly.
āAre you okay?ā you asked after a minute. Sam nodded but didnāt say anything, he couldnāt get his words out. For a second you thought he might be having a panic attack and so without over thinking it you stepped forward. His eyes opened as you stepped into his space, but he couldnāt get his words out before you wrapped your arms around him, your head on his chest.
āW-what are you doing?ā he asked quietly.
āGrounding,ā you explained, your voice muffled against his polyester jacket, āread about it somewhere. Helps calm you down when youāre panicking.ā
āOh.ā
āYeah,ā you murmured. Sam hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slid his long arms around you, pulling you close.
You were right. His heart started slowing and his breath became more even. His palms had even stopped pumping sweat to allow him to touch you, his hands settling gently on your back. Though he wasnāt convinced it had anything to do with therapy techniques. As he leaned down, resting his chin on the top of your head he smiled.
That was until he heard a snort. When his eyes snapped open, he saw his brother coming towards him, a shit eating grin on his face that only widened as he pushed you off. You frowned but then spotted Dean, offering him a tight smile when he got close.
āAw isnāt that sweet,ā he teased, āwhatās the matter Sammy? You look like youāve seen a clown.ā
āAnd what have you done?ā you challenged, raising an eyebrow as you crossed your arms over your chest.
āI, uh-ā Dean started, taken off guard by your tone.
āBecause we had the EMF readers so you canāt have done much else. Have you spoke to the workers?ā
āWell-ā
āSeen if there were witnesses? Got a list of the attractions the families went on? Or did you just eat funnel cake?ā
āHang on a minute-ā Dean tried.
āThought so,ā you dismissed smoothly, looking at Sam, ācāmon Sammy. Weāve got actual work to do.ā
Dean stood there looking flabbergasted as you brushed past him, Sam letting out a quiet snort as he fell into step right beside you. As you reached the end of the alleyway between the rides, you glanced back over your shoulder at Dean.
āAnd grab the trash bags on wont you?ā you said, making his eyes flit to the bags resting against the wall, āyouāre on litter duty.ā
Dean scowled but bent down to grab them, completely oblivious as you slipped your hand in Samās and you headed on your way.
reader coming to the hotel after a night out with dean, they both got so drunk but dean left with some other chick and reader gets to the motel and inmediatly passes out on the bed. sam is trying to do some research but realizes that from his seat he gets a perfect view of the readers ass in bed (shes just spread out in bed in a pretty short dress) and notices her wet panties. he tries his best to concentrate on his research but all he can do is just look at her and salivate
(ive been thinking about this scenario for ages and i just love the way u write pervert sam aaa)
combined this with my āsam takes sneaky pics of readerā reqs because they fit together so well!! tysm for this one anon, i got quite carried away lol
cw: afab!reader (they/them, wears a dress); pervert!sam; drunk!reader; sorta dubcon (reader doesnāt know abt the pics) | 1.5k words | 18+ content under the cut
Sam jumps when the motel door swings open, practically flying off its hinges.
āGuess whoās drunk!ā
Your jubilant voice has Sam lifting his brows. He sees your lazy smile, your stumbling gait, and the all-too-happy air about you, and he huffs in amusement.
āIām guessingā¦ you?ā
Your smile grows into a toothy grin. āYou guess right.ā
Kicking the door shut and tossing your bag somewhere on the floor ā where youāll surely trip over it in the morning ā you sway on your feet until you make it toā¦ Samās bed. Sure. He doesnāt mind if you sleep there. No big deal.
Gulping, Sam turns away from his laptop to look at you as you get comfortable against the sheets. He blushes when you moan in content.
āHey,ā he gently calls, āwhereās Dean?ā
āWith some girl,ā you reply, slurring your words into his pillow. Then your head pops up, brows pinched as you consider something. āā¦Or maybe it was a guy? I dunno. It was definitely somebody.ā
You drop back down, slumping unceremoniously against the lumpy sheets. You donāt even bother to cover yourself or change clothes; Sam wonders what the hell you drank to have you like this. Heās not even sure how you managed to make it to the motel; he worries for whatever poor cab driver had to deal with your shenanigans.
With a sigh, Sam pushes himself from his chair to approach you. āCāmon, at least get under the blanket,ā he says. Itās not the first time heās had to babysit a drunk person ā he did it plenty of times back at Stanford, and Dean isnāt much better when he gets shitfaced. Sam tends to be the designated driver.
When you donāt move or respond, Sam squints. He takes another step towards the bed, calling your name. Nothing. He finally moves to stand over you, only to realize youāve already passed out. Your face is squished against his pillow, and you look perfectly relaxed, sprawled out in your short dress and a pair of dirty, scuffed-up sneakers. Sam canāt help but smile, terribly fond of you even now.
Sam reaches for your shoes, unlacing them and sliding them off your feet. You whine a bit in your sleep, but otherwise, you donāt wake up. Sam sets your shoes by the door for you, turning back to you just as you shift on the bed, hiking a leg up.
He forgets how to breathe.
Your dress is already so short that it barely covers your ass, but with your leg pulled up and your face smushed into the pillow, Sam sees everything. Your underwear are damp, clinging to your skin ā sweat? Arousal? Both? Heās not sure why theyāre so visibly wet, but his mouth goes dry as he has a good, hard look at the underwear peeking out at him.
Sam stares for far longer than is acceptable. He canāt help himself; his blood is already rushing south, causing him to twitch beneath his pants. He doesnāt want to disturb you, not when youāre sleeping so peacefully, but fuck, he wishes he could remember this sight forever.
So Sam does what any reasonable person would do: he pulls out his phone, flips it open, and snaps a picture.
The flash goes off, briefly illuminating the dark motel room with a blinding white light. He cringes, blushing at his mistake, but miraculously, you donāt move an inch. You just drool against his pillow, looking like some sort of drunken angel sent down to test his desires. Sam dares to get closer to you, angling the camera to get a better look at your damp underwear. He licks his lips, cock straining in his pants. His eyes dart over to your face, double checking that youāre still sleeping soundly before taking a second, more defined photo of your panties. But then thereās your face, too, with that little trail of drool seeping past your pretty lips. He strains against his boxers, hands shaking as he takes another, riskier photo of your drooling face. The flash goes off. You still donāt budge.
The moment itās done, shame slaps Sam in the face.
What the fuck does he think heās doing? Youāre his friend, youāre asleep, youāre drunk. His obsession with you is starting to get concerning. At this rate, itās a miracle you havenāt actually caught on to him being such a weirdo around you ā though youāve certainly given him some odd looks when he gets shy around you, when he has to hide his boner and run off to take a cold shower. Fucking ridiculous.
But then his eyes drift back to you, your ass perked up right on display, and his cock stiffens once more.
Sam stumbles backwards to sit at the desk chair again, forcibly snapping his phone closed. He breathes heavily, eyes focused on the dim shape of you in his bed. With a gulp, he tips his head back, forcing his eyes to the ceiling instead as he sinks further into the chair.
āFuck,ā he mutters under his breath, hands already flying to his jeans.
Heās rock hard, springing out the second he tugs his boxers back. Thick beads of precum pebble on his tip before sliding down the shaft, tempted by the sight of you. Sam wraps his fingers around his cock, daring to open his eyes and look at you again. He pumps his fist up and down, imagining what it would be like to press his erection against your damp panties and grind on you. He wonders if youād cum from his cock brushing against your clit or if youād wake up and beg him to fuck you good and proper.
Sam remembers that little sound you made when you sunk against his pillow ā the moan. He blushes, hanging his head and subtly bucking into his own hand. His thumb rubs over the wet tip of his length, massaging it, and he lets out a shuddering breath, balls tightening with a growing need to cum. With one trembling hand, he opens his phone one more time to look at the photo of your drooling face again. He wants to shove your head into the mattress, make you whine and whimper on his cock. He wants to cum in your mouth, let it dribble out and smear across your lips like lipgloss.
He wants to cum on you, too, but thatās not possible right now. If he still had a pair of your underwear (a stolen relic from the last time you all did laundry, returned on the next cycle), heād use that instead. But all he has is his hand and his imagination.
He audibly swallows, panting softly, praying you donāt suddenly wake up to catch him jerking off just a few steps away from where youāre sleeping. Then again, a small part of him wonders if ā just maybe ā you wouldnāt mind seeing him messy for you. His hand moves faster, slick sounds filling the quiet room as he inches towards release.
The doorknob suddenly rattles. Samās hand stutters on his cock, and he jerks his head around to gaze wide-eyed at the door. His balls seize up the second Sam shifts, angling his body to hide his flushed cock beneath the table, snapping his phone shut and dropping it to the floor in his panic. He nearly gasps, but bites his tongue just in time to muffle a groan as he viciously cums in his hand.
Dean walks through the door, sulking. Sam keeps his head down, tasting blood in his mouth from biting down too hard. Of course his idiot brother has to walk in the second Sam blows a thick load, probably painting the underside of the table.
āDean,ā Sam manages, wincing at the crack in his voice. He subtly wipes his wet hand off on his boxers.. āI thought you were with aā aā¦ somebody.ā
His brother ā clearly drunk and blessedly unaware of Samās current situation ā kicks his boots off and shrugs out of his leather jacket.
āDidnāt have a condom,ā he mumbles. āThis one wouldnāt have me if I wasnāt wrapped.ā
Sam cringes, making a disgusted noise. āMan, you donāt have to tell me that.ā
Dean grumbles, sitting on the edge of his bed to kick his jeans to the floor. He squints when he sees you spread out upon Samās bed; usually, you take the couch if there is one (thereās not one in this motel) or you share with Dean (since Sam takes up way too much bed space to share with his brother). Sam is unable to follow his brotherās gaze, too flustered to look at you.
āDamn. Got your bed stolen?ā Dean snorts, already leaning back against the mattress. āYouāre not crawling into mine, Iāll tell you that. Unless you shrink down to when you were five again.ā
āKeep your voice down,ā Sam mutters. āIāll sleep here.ā
Dean hums, already halfway to sleeping as he gets nice and comfortable on his own bed, sprawled out now that he has extra space. āIād say you could share with āem, but I doubt youād control it,ā Dean mumbles against the pillow.
Samās cheeks burn. His eye twitches as he glares at his brotherās form.
āControl what?ā No response. āDean. Dean.ā Nothing. Then ā a snore. Sam clenches his jaw, sinking into the desk chair, mortified by his own behavior. He still has to clean up the cum stains he surely left behind, and his brotherās knowing comment makes his skin crawl.
Sam doesnāt get a wink of sleep.
tag list . . . @ravenhood2792 @fuiabarcelos @midnightblossomss @angelicentity98
āāāāāā³ Warnings/Themes: Mature (š). Smut. Kink mentions. Position mentions. I tense hopped SAUR bad here soz.
āāāāāā³ Pairing: John Logan x F!Reader (Established Relationship)
āāāāāā³ Words: 2.8k
āāāāāā³ Summary: An A-Z of smutty headcanons.
General Masterlist here. NSFW Alphabet Masterlist here. Logan Masterlist here.
ā³ A = Aftercare Ā
(what theyāre like after sex)
Logan doesn't play when it comes to taking care of his people, and that's especially true after sex. He literally won't be able to rest until he's sure that you're comfortable, fully satisfied, and happy.
He's the ultimate clinger. There are times where he'll just want to stay buried inside of you, trying to stay as physically close to you as he can until he literally has to get up. He loves the feeling of going soft inside of you.
Especially when he's been practically, rough and/or eager, he'll make sure he takes care of you. That could mean his hand slipping between your legs, not in a sexual way but to check if there's any swelling or soreness. It could be wiping you down with a warm and wet cloth, kissing over the hickeys and bite marks that he left on you, fetching you a drink to replenish lost fluids, or checking in on you in breathless whispers, "how was that for you, baby?", "are you sore anywhere?", "do you need anything?"
He'd tell you how well you did and how he just wants to take care of you now. He'd pull your boneless body flush against his chest, pressing kisses to every bare inch he can get at and thank you for being there.
ā³ B = Body part Ā
(their favourite body part of theirs and also their partnerās)
You: There are many, SFW, body parts of yours that Logan enjoys, but if we're talking NSFW then it's your hips, purely based on how much time his hands spend there. He's obsessed with having something to grip tightly onto when he's got you in his favourite positions.
When he has you bent over, skirt hiked up and panties slipped to the side, he's obsessed with the feeling of your soft waist in his hands, how he can use it to control the pace, pulling you back harder against him, watching how he disappears within you.
His second favourite is probably the small of your back, something darkly possessive within him swells when he pulls out at the last minute and cums there. "I think you should just get my name tattoo'd here, that way I can mark you permanently."
Him: As someone who is a hockey player, hard-working, and handy, he's the most proud of his hands. They're calloused and slightly scarred, but they tell a story of a man who knows the value of hard and skilled work.
Also, he loves his hands because of how they look when they're on you. He loves how his hands are large enough to cup your breasts, how thick his fingers are, so it only takes two of them for you to feel full. He loves how long they are, so when he curls them in you they're able to hit that spot.
ā³ C = Cum Ā
(anything to do with cum, basically)
Logan's favourite place to cum is when he's buried deep inside of you, unbreaking eye contact as you both feel his dick twitch as he shoots warm, ropey, cum into you. As said in A = Aftercare, he'll stay inside of you after that, loving the messy, sticky, and dirty feeling of your juices mixing.
A man as possessive and (consensual) domination-loving as Logan, he loves when he pulls out so he can just sit back on his heels and spread your legs, watching how his cum slowly drips out of you, staining the mattress below.
If it's not inside of you, then it's on your stomach or lower back, the control of it having his dick stirring again.
He is also someone who'd play with the cum, rubbing it over your body, shoving it back in your sensitive hole, scooping it up and making you clean it off of his fingers. All of it.
ā³ D = Dirty secret Ā
(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
This many is a voyšš½euršš½.
He didn't even realise he had an obsession with this until one afternoon. Itās not like he hadnāt seen you changing in front of him before, but that day, as he watched you changing through the small opening of his slightly ajar bedroom door, something shifted.
Your back was turned as you lifted your shirt over your waist. His breath caught, his dick stirring in his pants as you slid your trousers down your thighs. He didn't understand why he stood watching you from the dark rather than making his presence known...
Until it happened again, this time more deliberate. You were taking a shower, he tested the door, it was unlocked...
He did it a couple more times, seeking out the cracks in doors, before the guilt hit him more than the shame. When he finally admitted to it, you just laughed and told him you knew and would have locked the door if you wanted privacy.
From then, it's a game with no rules. he'll never know when you're going to purposely leave the door open or unlocked, inviting him to catch you without your "knowledge".
Sometimes he comes back from practise and you're in his room, door ajar and legs wide as you press a vibrator against your clit. He palms himself through his pants as he watches your back arch against the bed.
Sometimes he'll come back to find you desperately sliding your pussy against his pillow, moaning his name softly because it smells like him and you miss him.
When he's on an away game, he'll ask that you send him videos so he can watch you touching yourself, rolling a nipple between your fingers.
ā³ E = Experience Ā
(how experienced are they? do they know what theyāre doing?)
Now this one is a mixture. Because on the one hand, heās had many a hookup before. Heās young, attractive, and has a reputation for knowing how to treat a woman. So, his room (after Deanās) was no.2 for the never-ending line of puck bunnies.
On the other hand, when it comes to sex with a girlfriend, heās not as experienced. Heās used to pleasing a variety of women that he had nothing but confidence walking into your first time together. But seeing you there, on his bed and wet for him, it felt like a whole different ballgame.
He wasnāt prepared for how different it would feel when youāre with the same person, your feelings getting deeper and deeper, and the desire to please getting higher.
With you, he focused on ways to make you cum that not even he knew existed. So, he has a mountain of experience, but learning to please you felt like a new challenge.
ā³ F = Favourite position Ā
(this goes without saying)
Two sides to him where one is the good ol' missionary position. He loves the eye contact, loves when you gasp into his mouth and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer and deliciously deeper.
But, again, there's a possessive side of Logan that comes out mainly when you're fucking. The desire for control takes over and he loves to take you from behind.
He loves Prone Bone or, alternatively, the Wheelbarrow. More details here.
ā³ G = Goofy Ā
(are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Logan's playful and sarcastic and would most definitely make teasing comments especially if he was jealous or something. But, in the heat of the moment, he's not silly or goody. He's dead focused on fucking the life out of you. He takes making you cum as serious business. That's not to say that sex with him is rigid because it's not! He just wouldn't be focused on being a standup comedian.
THAT SAID!! if something funny happened like a pussy queef or someone losing their footing, he'd laugh and make a joke. He wouldn't take that part seriously.
ā³ H = Hair Ā
(how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
As an athlete that spends hours wearing sweaty hockey gear, he takes personal hygiene VERY seriously. He's a naturally very hairy man, but he keeps himself well-groomed for you but also himself. He defo has some hair down there though, he doesn't like the bare look, preferring the more masculine look of his natural body hair.
He's unbothered by it and doesn't understand the appeal, but one thing you'll NEVER let him touch is the happy trail on his stomach leading to his pubic hair š.
ā³ I = Intimacy Ā
(how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Just because he's possessive and likes control, it doesn't mean that he's not a romantic and sex isn't extremely intimate. In the bedroom, his walls crumble. Just looking into his eyes during it will tell you how devoted he is. No matter how hard his hips thrust, how tightly his hands grip, how hard he's mouth sucks on your collarbone, his eyes tell you how attached and vulnerable he is with you.
From between your legs, he'll look up at you, fingers tangled with yours while the other one caresses you.
He'll spend his time always trying to kiss you too, whether that's on your lips in missionary or down your back from behind.
ā³ J = Jack off Ā
(masturbation headcanon)
Logan masturbates mostly as a stress-relief when he's overwhelmed with hockey or family drama and you're not around. He mostly does it in the shower, after he's used your scented shower gel or soap, so he can imagine it's your warmth around him. His hand wraps around him tightly, he closes his eyes, picturing what you looked like pinned underneath him or remembering the sound of you moaning his name.
ā³ K = Kink
(one or more of their kinks)
Say it with me now, PRAISEEEE KIINKKKKK. He loves both giving praise and receiving it. Hearing you softly whisper "You're doing so good, Logan," or "You take such good care of me" while heās deep inside you completely undoes him. His thrusts always become more erratic, his dick sliding out as he gets too eager.
He also loves to tell you that you take good care of him. When your lips are wrapped around his dick, tears pricking at your eyes, he'll stroke your cheek and tell you how proud he is of you. how perfect you are.
Don't let there be a time where you're silent during sex...
And that's the tamest of his kinks...
ā³ L = Location Ā
(favourite places to do the do)
It's not that Logan doesn't like the risk, but he's favourite place is his (or your) bedroom because there's the freedom and flexibility to try out so many different positions, toys, role plays etc.
However, if he's burning with stress or after a tough game, he's going to take the first place he can find. Especially if it's a locker room... The Uniform Stays ON & Missed Shots.
ā³ M = Motivation Ā
(what turns them on, gets them going)
Not to make him sound like a WHORE, but it's probably easier to list what doesn't get him turned on when it comes to you. Next to anything that you wear (a short skirt, knee high boots or socks, his jersey, tight clothing that shows your curves, long baggy clothing that doesn't show your curves, glasses, your pyjamas, gloves...) gets him going.
Watching you study, you absentmindedly biting your lip, the lil concentrated face that you make, the way you hold the pen... and he's ready to mount you.
Any strong emotion (jealously, anger, stress, post-match high) gets him needy for you.
ā³ N = No Ā
(something they wouldnāt do, turn offs)
Truthfully, I see it get to a point where he'd be hard pressed to agree to a threesome, especially if he had to watch you get fucked by someone else.
Other than that, he wouldn't want the sex to feel emotionally detached or unsafe. So, he wouldn't want to do something that degrades you or causes extreme pain. Nothing gets him softer faster than seeing your face distorted in uncomfort or pain.
ā³ O = Oral Ā
(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Giving: He loves this because he's a genuine munch that does it for the love of the game. He takes his sweet as time between your thighs, to the point where there are days where you have to remind him that there are other body parts he could use there. Sometimes your thighs end up shaking, not from orgasm, but from fatigue as he's kept you spread so long as he ravishes you. He's skilled, patient, and takes pride in making you cum on his tongue. He's vocal about it too, moaning loudly as he tastes you, grinding against the mattress.
Receiving: He doesn't ask for it as often, but he does love it when you're on your knees, looking up at him through your eye lashes as your tongue laps over his leaking slit.
Preference: giving.
ā³ P = Pace Ā
(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
By now, he's learnt what you like and knows the exact pace that you need without you needing to use words. He's a pillar of patience, he knows how to build up that tension, getting you ready on his tongue or fingers before considering anything else.
Like 55% of the time, he's slow and sensual. Undressing you slowly, teasing touches, body worship etc., But the other 45%, he's fast and rough and leaving brusies that you'll savour in the morning.
ā³ Q = Quickie Ā
(their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Logan is built for longer sessions, he likes to make you cum first, but then likes to drag out your second orgasm to the point where you're left begging.
That doesn't mean he is completely opposed to a quickie. He'd do it if he had to, like the coach to the next away game leaves in 10 minutes, has to. but even then, he's defo the type to shrug and go "I'm already late so may as well take my time, it's not like they can leave without me..."
ā³ R = Risk Ā
(are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He'll take the risk especially if it's something you want, he loves to test limits.
He's not an exhibitionist, so doesn't really go to far on the public risk side of things, he gets enough adrenaline from hockey that he doesn't necessarily need that in his sex life too. however, he doesn't mind taking a semi-public risk and he has no problem getting Caught.
ā³ S = Stamina Ā
(how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
The man is an athlete. He has the endurance to go for multiple long and heavy rounds in a single night. Sometimes, he lasts so long that even you're like 'okay, wrap it up!'
His turnaround time is crazy too. He can cum and then not even 10 minutes later, he's pressing his semi on the small of your back.
His stamina always far extends what's needed to ensure you're thoroughly taken care of.
ā³ T = Toys Ā
(do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He doesn't own them himself, unless you're counting handcuffs and a blindfold, but since he started dating you, there's a whole collection of toys in his bedside draw.
He's not the type to get intimidated by a toy and pressing a vibrator to your clit whilst he drove into you would get him insanely turned on. He'd let you use your toys on him too.
ā³ U = Unfair Ā
(how much they like to tease)
Sometimes he's a tease without meaning to tease. What he'd call savouring you, you'd call teasing. But really, whenever he did intentionally try and tease you, it would backfire and only make him more desperate.
ā³ V = Volume Ā
(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He makes you loud, but he himself isn't a loud screamer or name-caller. He isn't silent though, and lets you know just how much he's enjoying you through a series of deep chest rumbles, breathless sighs of your name, and GRUNTS.
This man is a ragged grunter and a swearer. He talks a lot, mostly swear words. When he gets closer to orgasm, he'll stop being able to form sentences all together, only grunts and your name.
ā³ W = Wild card Ā
(a random headcanon for the character)
The first time he told you he loved you was when he was buried in you, and the realisation made him cum immediately.
ā³ X = X-ray Ā
(letās see whatās going on under those clothes)
He's THICC, veiny, and lengthy without being too intimidatingly massive. Probs like 7inches erect. The head flushes dark when he's aroused and very responsive to your touch.
Body wise, he's very stereotypically masculine. Strong, broad shoulders, well-defined abs, strong back muscles, hairy in the right places. His biceps aren't large though.
ā³ Y = Yearning Ā
(how high is their sex drive?)
With all that testosterone bubbling inside of him, his need for physical outlet is HIGH. He craves you and sex constantly. When he's on an away game, he'll be very restless. He'll sneak you into the hotel sometimes because he just can't focus or sleep without fucking you.
If it's not possible to have you there, he'll bombard you with texts, detailing how he's going to pin you down when he's back. He'll beg you to send him videos or watch the ones that he's stored in his phone and rut against the bed.
ā³ Z = Zzz Ā
(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Once he's satisfied that you're satisfied, it doesn't take him long to fall asleep at all. He'll wrap you up in his arms and KO within like 5 minutes, sleeping deeper and more peacefully than any other time.
āļø: as always, i'm curious to hear your thoughts... please consider leaving a comment, ask, reblog with your thoughts (whether you agree or disagree) ā¤ļøā¬ x
You have a HUGE boyfriend, but that size goes to waste when most of the time that he is home is poured into playing video games.
That is until you start bringing up that Reo would be able to satisfy you better than he ever could.
Thatās why youāre in this position nowāflat against your back, legs spread with Nagiās fat tip prodding against your small cunny.
āSei..it wonāt fit..!ā You whimpered helplessly before he started sinking into you. The sheer girth of his dick was splitting you open and he was only halfway inside.
āp-please..ā Your vision was going blurry, but Nagi kept sinking deeper inside until you could feel him meeting your cervix. He didnāt wait for you to adjust, he immediately started rolling his hips up into you.
āHuff..huff Iām better than..huff..Reo..ā he rasped while plunging into you faster.
Nagi had paused and pushed your thighs down more, giving him a better angle.
āNagi..ngh!..I swear I didnāt mean it like thaāFuck!ā
Slam !
Nagi was balls deep inside of you and he was fucking you dumb. Your phone that was next to you started ringing.
It was Reo.
You didnāt notice that Nagi had picked up the phone until you heard a soft gasp.
āFuck..Please Sei..ā tears rolled down your cheeks as you clawed at his back. Nagiās hips were MEANānot to mention how big he already was compared to you. The other line was pretty much silent besides the occasional gasps and sounds of wetness.
āN-Nagi please..Iām so close!ā You whimpered, your cunt tightening around him, making Nagi groan.
āFuck..that feels good, Y/N..ā Nagi breathed out, his dick started to throb. āIām close too..let me cum inside..ā He whined helplessly. āY-yes..please!ā
Nagi tried digging his dick even deeper than it already was while speeding up. He was moaning softly into your ear.
Nagi hit that soft spot inside you, your legs locking him inside you as you orgasmed.
As Nagi helped you ride out your orgasm, he shot thick hot ropes of cum inside of you, body going limp.
āNobody can do better than I canānot even Reo..ā
Authors notes
Heya !! Sorry I donāt post often, Iāve been being lazy..Iām trying to do betterā¦I promiseā¦ā¦
summary ā castiel trades the trench coat for hoodies and fuzzy socks, and discovers that being held might be one of the holiest things humanity ever invented.
pairing ā castiel x reader ( gn )
wordcount ā 722 genre ā extreme fluff !!
warnings ā cuddling, soft kisses, bunker domesticity, castiel being adorably touch-starved
notes ā absolutely in love with this request!! #castieldeservessoftness š„¹š¤§
ā ļø¶ā ā support me on ko-fiā Żā šć
castiel takes comfort very seriously.
thatās the first thing you learn after he starts staying in the bunker properly, not just appearing when the worldās ending or vanishing with that worried pinch between his brows. he stays. actually stays. his coat ends up on the back of a chair more often than on his body, his tie disappears into a drawer, and little by little, almost shyly, he lets himself be convinced of softer things.
hoodies, mostly.
he likes the blue one best because the sleeves cover half his hands, even though he insists that isnāt the reason. he likes sweatpants after exactly one suspicious hour of pretending they are āstructurally confusing.ā he likes fuzzy socks so much that dean catches him standing in the hallway one morning, sliding one foot slowly across the floor just to feel the texture, and has to leave before he laughs himself sick.
you donāt laugh.
well... not where cas can see.
tonight, he appears in your doorway wearing the blue hoodie, grey sweatpants, and the soft white socks you bought him because he kept staring at them in the store with the grave wonder of a man witnessing divine revelation in aisle four.
āmay i come in?ā he asks.
you lower your book. ācas, you live here.ā
āyes,ā he says. ābut this is your room.ā
your heart does that small, helpless fold it does around him. ācome here.ā
he doesnāt hesitate after that. he crawls onto the bed with more focus than grace, mattress dipping beneath his weight, and then he simply lowers himself on top of you. all of him. chest to chest, hips heavy over yours, arms sliding under your shoulders as he buries his face in the side of your neck and lets out a long, quiet breath.
you go still for one second, surprised by the sudden warmth of him, by how completely he gives himself over to the contact.
then your hands come up to his back. ācomfortable?ā
his answerās muffled against your skin. āextremely.ā
you laugh softly, fingers moving into his hair. āyouāre crushing me a little.ā
he lifts his head immediately, concerned. āshould i move?ā
ānot yet.ā
his expression softens so much it almost hurts to look at, and then he settles again, more carefully this time, cheek pressed near your collarbone. heās heavy, warm, solid in a way that makes the whole room feel quieter.
the bunker hums around you, pipes ticking somewhere in the walls, but cas melts against you as if thereās nowhere else in creation heād rather be.
after a while, he shifts. āi would like to try another position.ā
you bite your lip. āanother cuddle position?ā
āyes,ā he nods solemnly. āit is important to be thorough.ā
so you let him be thorough.
he turns onto his side and pulls you against his chest, one arm around your waist, chin tucked over your shoulder. then he changes his mind and lies on his back, guiding you carefully until your head rests over his heart. then he wants your legs tangled together. then his forehead against yours. then your hand in his because, apparently that counts too.
between each adjustment, he kisses you. your temple. your cheek. the corner of your mouth when he misjudges and then looks so pleased with the accident that you kiss him properly. his lips are soft and slow, his hand cupping your jaw with that gentle seriousness he brings to everything he loves and doesnāt fully understand yet.
āyouāre very affectionate tonight,ā you whisper.
his thumb brushes your cheek. āi am happy.ā
oh. as simple as that.
you blink at him, suddenly too full of something warm and breakable. āyeah?ā
āyes.ā his gaze moves over your face with quiet certainty. āi like being here. with you. in soft clothing.ā
a laugh slips out of you, small and wet around the edges. āthatās very romantic.ā
āi intended it to be.ā
you kiss him again before he can look worried about getting it wrong, and he sighs into it, hand spreading over your back, socks brushing clumsily against your ankle beneath the blanket.
later, when he settles on top of you again, lighter this time, face tucked back into your neck, you hold him there and feel him smile against your skin. he stays that way until your breathing matches his.
@bitchinwallaby requested ā Żā šć I crave for Castiel fluff, can you pretty please supply?I just want him to be happy and living in the bunker with reader. He should have comfortable clothes, right? No more stiff business wear. Just soft hoodies, comfy sweatpants, fuzzy socks. Mmmm.Ā I want him to be a cuddle bug. He'll crawl on the bed and lay on top of reader with his whole weight, bury his face in their neck and just melt. Blissful. He'll move after a while, assume some other cuddle positions hehe, he wants to try them all. Soft touches for both him and the reader. And kisses, lots of kisses.
.ā„ Ż Ė writing guidelines ā posting schedule ā all works
Might I request Dean with a reader who is always on top of things, always in control of the situation, and just wants to turn her brain off sometimes :( She feels safe and comfortable with him and can actually relax and let him take control. Smut if youāre up for it but anything you write is wonderful so it will be great no matter what š«¶
āļ½” Ė let me handle it
summary ĖĖš¢Ö“ą»Ö“ you spend your whole life keeping things together, but deanās the one person who makes it feel safe to fall apart a little.
pairing ĖĖš¢Ö“ą»Ö“ dean winchester x best-friend!reader ( f )
wordcount ĖĖš¢Ö“ą»Ö“ 1123 genre ĖĖš¢Ö“ą»Ö“ suggestive fluff
warnings ĖĖš¢Ö“ą»Ö“ suggestive tension, moaning, best friends to lovers tension !!, physical touch, emotional exhaustion
notes ĖĖš¢Ö“ą» Ö“āą» consider supporting my work .į
you donāt know how to turn it off.
thatās the problem. the real one, underneath the hunt and the blood on your sleeve and the bruise blooming deep under your shoulder blade. you can patch a wound with one hand, reload a shotgun in the dark, talk a witness out of calling the police, keep dean from running headfirst into a trap and sam from overthinking himself into a migraine. you can read a room in three seconds. you can make a plan before anyone else notices there needs to be one.
but you cannotāfor the life of youāsit still on the edge of a motel bed without mentally checking the locks, counting the weapons, remembering the fake names on the credit cards, wondering if the thing you killed really stayed dead.
dean notices every single time. āyouāre doing that thing,ā he says from the bathroom doorway, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, hair damp from his shower.
you look up from the lore book open in your lap. āwhat thing?ā
he points the toothbrush at your face. āthat.ā
āthis is my face.ā
āyeah, and itās gonna wrinkle fast.ā
you stare at him, face scrunching harder.
he disappears back into the bathroom to spit, then comes out wiping his mouth with a hand towel, barefoot, t-shirt clinging a little at his shoulders.
ācaseās done,ā he says. āsamās in the next room. doors are locked. saltās down. nobodyās dying tonight.ā
āthatās optimistic.ā
āthatās an order.ā
you huff. āyou donāt order me around.ā
his mouth curves. ānot usually.ā
the words land warmer than they should. you look away first, because thatās safer, and dean sees that too. his expression shifts, teasing softened by something more careful. he crosses the room and takes the book out of your hands before you can protest.
ālie down,ā he says.
you hesitate, shoulders tight, fingers twitching like they still want to hold the book. ādeanāā
ācāmon. you trust me, right?ā his green eyes catch yours, steady, a little too open. the kind of look that makes your chest ache because youāve been best friends for years and somewhere along the way that line blurred so badly you donāt know how to step back across it. you do trust him. more than anyone.
you exhale and stretch out on your stomach, face turned into the cheap pillow. the mattress dips when he climbs on behind you, knees bracketing your thighs. his hands settle on your shoulders firstāwarm, calloused, hesitant for half a second like heās waiting for permission.
āgo ahead,ā you grumble into the pillow.
he starts slow. thumbs pressing into the knot just under your neck, working in firm circles. you bite your lip at the first real pressure, a tiny sound slipping out. his hands still. āthat hurt?ā
āno, no,ā you whisper. āit was good. keep going.ā
he does. the rhythm buildsāheels of his palms dragging down your spine, spreading heat through the tight muscles. every pass loosens something, but your brain keeps spinning. did we check the devilās trap under the rug? is the salt line thick enough? what ifā
āhey.ā deanās voice is right by your ear now, breath warm. āstop thinking. i got you.ā
his fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, pushing fabric up. cool air hits your skin, then his palmsāhot, steady. he works the bruise on your shoulder blade with careful pressure, never too hard, like he memorized exactly where it hurts. you let out a soft, involuntary moan when he hits a perfect spot. it sounds louder than you meant.
through the thin wall you hear samās bed creak. dean chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your back. āeasy, sweetheart. samās gonna think iām doing fun things to you.ā
heat floods your face. you bury it deeper in the pillow, but another moan escapes when his hands glide lower, thumbs bracketing your spine. ācanāt help it,ā you mumble. āfeels too good.ā
āyeah?ā his voice drops, rougher. eager. that good-boy tone he gets when he knows heās doing something right for you. ātell me where else.ā
you donāt answer with words. instead you shift, arching just a little. his fingers find the clasp of your bra and pauseāwaiting. you nod. the hooks give way with a quiet click. the straps loosen and deanās hands spread wide across your bare back, skin on skin. no barriers. just him.
he leans in, chest brushing your shoulder as he works down toward your waist. his touch turns slower, less clinical. thumbs sweeping along the dip of your lower back, fingers splaying over your sides, brushing the soft curve where waist meets hip. every stroke feels heavier now, warmer.
his breath fans across your neck. āyouāre always carrying everything,ā he murmurs, lips close enough that you feel the words more than hear them. ālet me take some of it. just for tonight.ā
you whimper softly when his hand slips further, palm flat against your skin just above the waistband of your jeans. the sound is breathy, needy. samās tv turns up a notch next doorāprobably on purpose. dean smiles against your shoulder, pressing a slow kiss there.
āgood girl,ā he whispers. ārelax for me.ā
his fingers trace idle patterns now, teasing lower, then back up, mapping every inch like heās learning a new weapon. your body melts under him even as your mind flickersāthis is dean, your dean, best friend, the one who makes you laugh after the worst huntsābut the ache in your chest mixes with the heat low in your belly. you want more. you want to turn everything off and just feel his hands, his weight, the way heās so careful and so hungry at the same time.
he shifts, one knee nudging your thighs a fraction apart so he can settle deeper. the new angle lets his palms roam wider, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the base of your spine. another moan slips free, longer this time. your hips twitch without permission.
you hear deanās breath catch. āfuck, baby. you keep making noises like that and iām not gonna wanna stop.ā
you turn your head, cheek against the pillow, catching his eye. the look he gives you is rawāaffection and want and years of almosts all at once. ādonāt stop, then,ā you breathe.
his grin is slow, devastating. he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. āyes maāam.ā
his hands keep moving, reverent and filthy in the same breath, working tension out of your body while winding new tension somewhere deeper. you let yourself sink into itāthe safety of his touch, the way he knows exactly how to hold you together and take you apart at the same time. for once, your brain goes quiet. just dean. just this.
ź. all works ; writing guidelines ; writing schedule.
Sam discovering reader's quiet in bed and doing whatever he can to make her cream by eating her out, he doesn't fuck her with his cock or let her cum unless she moans like he wants her too no matter how desperate she is <3 pretty please <3
this food is so fucking good anon. samās favorite destination is between your legs <3 this was so fun to write hehe i love when sam is just a lil bit of a sadist
cw: afab!reader (no pronouns mentioned); use of pet names for reader (baby, honey); edging; dirty talk; praise; teensy bit of dacryphilia | 1k words | 18+ content under the cut
āCāmon, baby, you can do better than that.ā
Samās voice rumbles against your center. Itās hard to tell just how long heās had you pressed against the mattress like this, panting and trembling under his tongue. It feels like itās been hours since you started, but you havenāt gotten to cum once ā all because heās been edging you, trying to get you to moan nice and loud for him.Ā
Itās not that Sam doesnāt treat you well ā thereās not a single other person on this planet that could possibly make you cum as hard as he does ā but youāre naturally quiet in the bedroom. Whether itās your own hand, a toy, or Samās cock stuffed inside you, youāre typically silent during sex, save for some heavy breathing and the occasional low whimper.Ā
Sam isnāt the type of guy to take it personally at all, but ā well, heās long since had a morbid obsession with trying to break your quiet streak. Call it research. He wants to know what you would sound like, if he could pull some obscene noises out of you. Heās not looking for cheap porn star moans ā he wants the real thing.Ā
So here you are, shuddering and clutching at his hair. You try to tug him back down so you can rub your clit against his nose and finally get off, but the second he realizes what youāre doing, Sam pulls away. You whine petulantly, reaching for him, but you wind up clawing at the air instead of his head.Ā
āNot yet,ā he murmurs, sitting back on his knees between your parted legs. āI told you, baby, I wanna hear you first.āĀ
āSam, come back,ā you grouse, close to tears. āPlease, thatās enough. I wanna cum.ā
He smiles at you so sweetly that, had you not witnessed him torturing you for the past hour, youād find it endearing.Ā
āI know,ā he says, looking almost a little guilty as he kisses your knees. āI know, and you will. I just wanna hear that you like it, thatās all. Not so hard, right?āĀ
You huff, frustrated and needy. If you werenāt so desperate to get off, youād up and leave him alone on the bed; you already attempted some time ago to sneak your hand down to your clit, but Sam made you close your legs and just sit there until you promised to behave yourself, so thatās out of the question. Besides, itās already hard enough finding time to get in bed with Sam without his brother unintentionally cockblocking, so you might as well suffer through it.Ā
When youāre finally relaxed again ā as much as you can be, at least ā Sam trails his mouth down your inner thighs, alternating between each, until heās hovering over your puffy folds. He kisses your slick, glistening cunt before licking a stripe up the middle. You whimper, dragging your hands over the sheets below you. They bunch up into fists when Samās tongue juts out further, slipping into you and flicking upward. You audibly squeak, the sound squeezed out of you from your restraint.Ā
Sam chuckles against you, repeating the motion. His laughter vibrates from your pussy all the way up your body, lighting up every nerve ending. You arch your back, trying to grind against his face, but Sam doesnāt let you ā he clamps his hands around your thighs, holding them against the side of his head. His hair tickles your skin, making you jump and shiver while he bobs his head, tongue-fucking you, then sucking your clit, then repeating the actions.Ā
He eats you like heās been starving for it ā and honestly, he just might be. If thereās one thing you know and love about Sam, itās this: he loves to taste you.Ā
Sam is beginning to moan by this point, losing himself between your legs. He starts to eat you out more voraciously, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs ā and itās that possessive gesture that makes your hips twitch, and a weak sound escapes you. Itās not quite the full-on moan heās been waiting for, but heās getting closer to where he wants you now.Ā
He pulls his head back briefly, hiking your legs up to sit around his shoulder now. Sam yanks you down by your hips, and you yelp, tugging the sheets down with you. Sam lands on your cunt again with a dark chuckle under his breath. He openly groans, lapping you up and rubbing his nose against your clit like you were hoping for earlier. The sensation is like a zap of electricity to your body ā you moan aloud, squeezing your legs around his head. A shuddering sigh escapes you, then another loud whine when his tongue squirms around your clit.Ā
āThatās it,ā Sam mutters between tastes of you. āThere you go, just like that.āĀ
Tears puddle in your eyes, wetting your lashes. Youāve been on the edge for so long now, and the end is finally in sight. Sounds rip from your throat that you didnāt even know you could make ā low, warbling sounds and animal-like wails. Sam smiles against your cunt, shoving his face against you until he can hardly breathe. His mouth closes around your folds, kissing and suctioning his lips to make you squirm and moan all over again. He grabs ahold of your hips, lifting them up to meet his face, and stars speckle the outskirts of your vision.Ā
With a loud cry of his name, your walls clench, then release. You gush right onto his waiting tongue, and Sam eagerly laps up the cum that pours out from between your puffy folds. He doesnāt let a single drop hit the sheets; he slurps it up, making obscenely loud noises that have your cheeks burning hot.Ā
Youāre too sensitive to take much more of his ministrations. One hand lazily reaches for his head, curling into his hair and lightly tugging him off of your pussy. Sam lifts his head up, eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles at you. His lips and chin are glistening under the lamplight; he makes no move to wipe away your release.Ā
āYou did so good, honey,ā he praises, all soft-spoken as if he wasnāt just moaning between your legs. He crawls his way up your body, kissing your stomach, then your neck, then your lips. Youāre still whimpering and shaky from cumming so hard; he cups your cheek, swiping his thumb beneath your eyes to brush away your tears. āThink you can do that with me inside you, now?ā
