Yandere Castiel pining after a hunterâhis creator betrayed him, so he found a new one.
"Hello mortal, it's me, Castiel."
Yandere Castiel met you after he betrayed heaven for the Winchesters. Cut off from his angelic powers, it was merely a matter of time before his grace dwindled away to humanness. He would be lying to himself if he said he did not fear. More than fear, there was this other fickle notion. This emotion gnawed inside his vessel's muscular organ situated in the mediastinum.
He truly thought God cared for his creations, but he had been brought back by this all-knowing entity, and for what?
He has no purpose except for aiding the Winchesters, which has only 'bitten him in the ass', as Dean says.
He's vulnerable... and that's when he stumbled upon you.
Yandere Castiel appeared out of thin air; well, that's how it appeared to you, seeing as how you are a mortal and are unable to see into other spiritual planes. He took down the monstrosities you had been hunting with relative ease. It left his angelic form wheezing as more of his grace was depleted. He should have simply left you, but something in him compelled him not to.
He introduced himself and naturally you were taken aback. He didn't elaborate any further when bombarded with questions. He offered to heal you.
Yandere Castiel followed you everywhere after that, like a lost hellhound looking for its owner. There was always an angel on your shoulder, more accurately, peering over your shoulder.
He even neglects prayers from the Winchesters and their allies to spend time with you. They did not appreciate him as much as you did. After all, he was only blasphemed and devalued around them. You thanked him, allowed him into your sleeping quarters, and shared private information with him that very few knew.
He already knew these things due to his, well, just being ethereal, but something in him said that he should keep that to himself.
When he could spare the grace, he would stay in his angel form so he could watch you uninterrupted. Apparently humans did not appreciate being looked upon so closely, despite the fact celestial beings are always looking upon humanity. It's another one of those human quirks he does not understand.
You were and still are a fascinating creature. He can't help but get attached.
Yandere Castiel is unsatisfied by the work your guardian angel has been doing. He is hardly able to call it protection, seeing as how Castiel always has to be the one to step in and take care of you. So he tears the wings off of that pitiful excuse and takes the grace from them.
He's keeping the both of you safe. It was only a matter of time before the angel reported his whereabouts to heaven and sent someone far more powerful to eliminate him. Then who would keep you safe? It certainly wouldn't have been the 'angel' heaven assigned to you.
When he appears to you with a stronger grace presence and blood coating him, you are naturally cautious. When you question him, he simply rebuffs and states that he was 'taking care of things'. He doesn't want you to worry, so he presses his lips to yours and makes you forget this little interaction.
It's addicting.
Is this what that abomination Sam Winchester felt when intaking demonic substance?
He still doesn't condone the vessel's actions, but he has a better understanding now.
Yandere Castiel abuses his divinity. Even with limited grace, he obtains it in other ways now. The more human part of him knows this is wrong, but the angel part of him says that this is righteous. It is, isn't it? He's serving humanity through one human. His human.
He isn't shy about those fleeting touches of his. He is often tempted to let you harm yourself in incrimental ways so he is able to step in and 'kiss your boo-boos'. It is another human phrase he has grown fond of, even despite its juvenile connotations. It isn't required that he has direct contact to heal your wounds, but you do not need to be made aware of that.
Unfortunately, he cannot prevent certain incidents from occurring. So he wipes your memory. All those negative emotions you felt towards him cease to exist. He is your sinless guardian, your angel, your soul mate.
He allows you to get high on his grace. All of your problems fade away, and there is only him.
In those moments, you see him how he sees you, as the only being in creation worth attention.Â
Yandere Castiel thought it could not get any worse than ridding you of stray entities. Wherever God is, they must be either punishing him for his disobedience or testing his loyalty to his human. A cherub of all lower ethereal entities is trying to mark you with an enochian love sigil. Heaven is trying to force you to have an 'other half'.
His patience runs thinner than God's love.
He tried to use his words, but the cherub was just so persistent. He snapped all of the arrows first, then he grabbed his angel blade and plunged it into the love being's skull. That was after he tortured the information about this false soul mate those fuckers on high wanted to force upon you.
Your bloodline needed to be preserved because your line was fated to do something greater. He knows better than to trust the words of those in heaven. If your bloodline needs to continue, Castiel can always help you copulate.
So your 'soul mate' ends up dead. He binds your heart to his vessel's without your knowledge.
This is how it was always supposed to be.
Yandere Castiel has you with him now. You are undeniably attracted to him, which makes it so easy to persuade you. He is able to create distance between you and the hunter life. It's almost perfect, except for his apparent duty to the Winchesters.
He is confronted after neglecting them for nearly a year. He brushes it off like he has before, but they persist. He cannot allow you to be near them! They are the center of the world's supernatural troubles. His hand is eventually forced.
So he's fiercely protective, always a wing around you. Neither better get the faintest idea of wanting you. You're his.
cw: smut.á blasphemy.á priest ben x f.reader.á corruption kink.á degradation.á praise.á confession booth fingering.á come tasting.á 18+
wc: 1215 àŒâ§âË.kinktober m.list
youâd been coming to this church since you were a kid, dragged along by your family every sunday until it became habit. but somewhere in the mix of soft choir hymns and the cold, fractured light of stained glass, youâd stopped caring about the true meaning of it all.
you only thought about father ben now.
ben was somewhat intimidating, in all the ways a man of the lord shouldnât be. sermons that were supposed to be about discipline and salvation came out like threats, his eyes patrolling the pews until they locked onto you.
he was always too attentive when you fidgeted in your seat, when your skirts rode a little high, and heaven forbid you didn't show up on sundays.
thereâd been momentsâ his hand retreating from your shoulder, too friendly in passing, his voice dipping when he told you to âbehave,â the prickling weight of his eyes on your back when you left the confessionalâ that shouldâve sent you running.
but it wasnât nothing. not when you kept going home and sliding your fingers underneath your panties, replaying the sound of his voice in your head while you imagined it was his fingers instead of yours. they'd be more firm, more rough. dipping down towards you entrance to collect slick and rub circles around your clit.
so when mass ended that sunday and father ben told you to stay behind, something wrong and shameful twisted low in your belly.
. Ęâ âč . Ę âĄ Ę . âč â Ę.
the church had gone quiet, emptied of the flock. only the low groan of old wood and the cloying scent of candle wax lingered when he gestured toward the confessional booth.
âcome inside with me,â father ben said simply.
you swallowed hard and obeyed, kneeling where penitents were meant to. the wood was cool under your knees, your palms scrimping on your lap, leaving damp, useless streams.
then the other door opened, and instead of staying behind the lattice like he should, ben stepped inside your side of the booth. the space became too crowded, his frame filling it, towering over you as he shut the door behind him. his fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his. green, his attention solely on you, unblinking.
âwhat brings you here today, sweetheart?â he mocked, already sinful.
âi need to seek forgiveness, father,â you whispered.
his thumb brushed your lip, slow and deliberate. âforgiveness, huh? and what makes you think you deserve forgiveness? what did you do this time?â
your heart sank to your feet. the harsh, delicate motion of your throat swallowing was noticed by father ben. âiâve been touching myselfâ thinking about you.â
father ben chuckled, a sick dark amusement bubbling in his chest. âthought so.â his hand anchored deep at the back of your neck, pinning your head back against the booth wall. âand tell me, where do those filthy hands go when you think of me? the lord's always listening.â
your thighs clenched, feeling the arousal seep from your cunt, as the words spilled from you. âbetween my legs, wishing it was you. i swear fatherââ
benâs grip on your throat returned, not choking but keeping a firm custody to what was hisl, forcing your gaze up. âhow many times?â he pressed.âtell me how often you spread your legs at the thought of me.â
your lips tremble, shame rising warmer than the arousal flooding you. âmore than i shouldââ
ben hummed, satisfied, but didnât stop to let you catch your breath. his hand slipped lower, tracing the outline of your cunt beneath the skirt, slow firm circles were a deliberate weight that had your eyes hazing over.
âalready wet for me, christ,â he hissed. âthis what you do in bed at night? fuck yourself on your fingers while you pray iâll forgive you?â
âfatherââ you close your eyes, chewing against your bottom lip until you tasted blood.
âdonât you dare lie to me.â he shoved the fabric aside until your cunt was drooling against the scuffed wooden floor, making your knees buckle. your cry was muffled by his palm when he clamped it over your mouth, silencing you.
âshow me where, was it here?" his finger collected the ample arousal and was brought up to his mouth, drawing your juices from the tips. "all this, all for me?"
your words fell short under his gaze. ben's thumb stroked your jaw, almost tenderly. âshh now, no more hiding from me.â he leaned closer until his breath warmed your cheeks. âyouâve already done the hardest part, you confessed."
âbut you always forgive me with your words, father, never your hands." you shake your head, grinding your cunt against the heel of his palm. aching to have his fingers inside you.
âdonât fight me now, sweetheart, donât be afraid. this is penance. this is how your soul is cleansed.â he shifted his weight until his chest was pressed against your spine, caging you back against him.
two thick fingers teased beneath the band of your panties, gathering your slick before easing inside. the intrusion deliberate and unhurried. the stretch made you gasp, your head tipping back against his shoulder, mouth falling open like a prayer.
âlook at you,â he murmured, curling his fingers deep until the pads brushed that soft, spongy spot. âno one's ever found that, have they?â his thumb pressed firmly over your clit, drawing firm, slow circles that made your thighs threaten to clamp shut.
ben found a unrelenting rhythm, knuckle deep your gummy walls, the wet, insistent squelch of your arousal echoing in the tiny box. your hips jerked against his palm, desperate, and he clicked his tongue softly. âsin always tastes sweeter when you think itâs forbidden."
father ben coaxed you through a messy orgasm. the kind that had your thighs trembling, tension winding sharp through your stomach. âmakin' a mess all over me, you feel that? soaking me through.â
you collapsed back against his chest, thighs weak as he held you steady. his arm banded firm around your waist, keeping you upright. everything felt heavyâ your skirt, your skin, his fingers still glossy with your come.
ben hummed satisfied with your responsiveness, bringing his fingers to your mouth. âgo ahead and taste it. taste your sin.â
your eyes blink closed, lips parting as the tip of ben's come-covered fingers brushed against your tongue. the intimate salty-sweet taste of yourself flooded your taste buds as your tongue swirled around his fingers.
"you know youâve been bad, donât you?â
âyes, i've been bad, father,â you whispered, repeating his words.
you felt the rough abrasion of his beard brushing your temple as he leaned down to kiss it, lingering in the scratchy warmth. ânow promise me, will you obey and confess every time you feel this way?â
"i promise, i'll come to you,â you stammered, the taste of yourself still lingering on your tongue.
ben straightened, brushing the hair from your damp forehead, tugging your panties back into place and smoothing them over your thighs. with a final tongue swipe at the corner his mouth, he glanced down at you, completely spent. âthatâs right, you're always honest, sometimes to honest for you're own good. now go, just remember, you earned your forgiveness.â
âĄàŸàœČ. đđđđđđđđâyou finally get your conjugal visit with dean, but heâs bigger, rougher, and more desperate than you remember. heâs been locked up for a while, so he plans on using every single second of his time with you.
âĄàŸàœČ. đđđđđđđâadult content, size difference, rough & intense sex, prison sex, power dynamics, strong explicit language, oral sex [fem!receiving], praising, dirty talk, hair pulling, slight objectification, unprotected sex [use the rubber].
âĄàŸàœČ. đđđđđâwelcome everybody to kariâs first ever spooky kinktober !! this is my first time participating (as iâve already stated) and iâm super excited but please donât hesitate to hold me accountable if iâm not consistent with posting/updating because i got commitment issues like a motherfucker.
the room is as bleak as youâd imagined. four grey concrete walls, a single barred window showing a sliver of an equally grey sky, and a sad-looking metal bed frame bolted to the floor. itâs cold, sterile, and smells faintly of bleach. this is where and how you get to see your boyfriend .
youâve been sitting on the edge of the paper-thin mattress for ten minutes, your hands clasped so tight in your lap your knuckles are white. every distant clang of a metal door, every muffled shout down the hall, makes your heart jump into your throat.
then you hear it. the heavy scrape of the bolt on your door.
it swings open, and there he is.
itâs dean, but itâs not. the last year has been⊠productive. he was always broad, always solid, but now heâs just⊠more. his shoulders strain the fabric of the standard-issue orange jumpsuit, his arms are corded with thick new muscle, and his torso looks impossibly thick. his hair is shorter, buzzed a little on the sides, and the look in his eyes is harder, sharper. that familiar green is still there, but itâs caged, feral.
the guard gives him a shove into the room and slams the door shut behind him. the lock echoes like a gunshot.
for a second, you just stare at each other. the air is thick with everything you havenât been able to say or do for three hundred and eighty-seven days.
he moves first. three long strides and heâs closing the distance, his sheer size swallowing up the tiny room. he doesnât say a word. he just cups your face in his hands, his palms rough and calloused against your skin, and crashes his mouth down onto yours.
itâs not a gentle kiss. itâs a kiss of desperation, of starvation. his teeth scraping your lip, his tongue plunging into your mouth like heâs laying a claim. you let out a whimper, melting into him, your hands coming up to fist in the front of his orange jumpsuit. he tastes like stale coffee and something uniquely, intensely dean.
he breaks the kiss only to press his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. âgod,â he rasps, his voice a low, gravelly thing you feel in your bones. âyou have no idea how bad i fuckinâ missed you, darlinâ.â
his hands slide from your face, down your neck, over your shoulders, and down your arms, as if heâs re-learning the shape of you. you feel like a doll in his grip, so small and fragile compared to the solid wall of man heâs become. he looks you up and down, his eyes burning with a possessive fire.
âtake your clothes off,â he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument.
your fingers tremble as you slide off your blouse, followed by your jeans. youâre left in your prettiest lace set, feeling utterly exposed under his heated gaze. a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. but he wastes no time ripping the lace off of your body, needing to see all of you.
âon the bed. and on your back,â he says, pointing with his chin.
you obey, scrambling onto the creaky metal frame. it groans in protest under your minimal weight. dean just watches you, his eyes dark with intent, before he moves to the foot of the bed. he grips your ankles, his large hands easily circling them, and pulls you down until your ass is right at the edge of the mattress.
he kneels on the floor in front of you, putting him at the perfect height. he parts your legs, spreading you wide open for him without any gentleness. you feel a blush creep up your neck at the blatant, almost clinical way heâs positioning you, but the look in his eyes is anything but clinical. itâs pure hunger.
âiâve been dreaming of this,â he murmurs, his hot breath ghosting over your inner thigh. âdreaminâ of tasting you.â
and then his head dips down.
his mouth is hot and wet, a shocking contrast to the cold room. he starts with long, slow licks, his tongue a rough, wet muscle painting stripes over your folds from bottom to top. he hums, a low, guttural sound of approval that vibrates right through you. he holds your thighs in a vice grip, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, keeping you still, keeping you open.
heâs not gentle. heâs methodical, like heâs trying to memorize every single sensation. the scratch of his stubble against your sensitive skin is maddening. he seems to find your clit immediately, his tongue flicking over it, then circling it, teasing you with a skill that feels both familiar and brand new.
âthatâs it, baby,â he growls against you, feeling you start to squirm. âyouâre so fuckinâ wet for me.â
you gasp, your hips starting to buck. youâre already so close. heâs been inside for a year, but he hasnât forgotten a single thing about how to drive you insane. if anything, heâs gotten better, more focused, more intense.
he changes tactics, his mouth becoming more demanding. he sucks your clit between his lips, pulling and tugging, sending jolt of pure electricity straight to your core. you cry out, your fingers digging into the thin mattress. the bed frame creaks and squeals with every frantic movement.
âdean,â you pant, your vision starting to blur. ââm gonnaââ
ânot without me, youâre not,â he growls, pulling away abruptly. the sudden loss of his mouth makes you cry out in protest.
he doesnât give you a chance to recover. he shoves you back on the bed, pushing your knees up towards your chest. the metal frame shrieks in protest as he climbs on, his heavy weight making the whole thing dip and groan loudly. the sound of straining metal fills the room.
âgonna break this fucking bed with you,â he says, his voice a low rumble.
he shucks his jumpsuit down his hips with an impatient grunt, freeing himself. you gasp. just like the rest of him, heâs bigger, thicker, more imposing than you remember. itâs all so overwhelming.
he positions himself between your legs, grabs your hips, and with one powerful, unforgiving thrust, heâs inside you.
a raw scream is torn from your throat. heâs so big. he fills you completely, stretching you, taking you apart from the inside out. he doesnât give you a moment to adjust. he starts moving, his hips slamming into yours with a brutal rhythm that makes the whole bed frame bang against the concrete wall. itâs not making love; itâs a raw, primal claiming.
âmine,â he grunts, pulling your hair to tilt your head back. ââfuck, youâre so tight. always everything i need.â
each thrust is a shock to your system, lighting up every nerve ending. the frustrated energy from before, the sheer overwhelming size of himâitâs all too much.
âlook at me,â he commands, and you force your hazy eyes to meet his. theyâre blown wide, pure intensity.
he speeds up, fucking you into the mattress with a frantic energy that tells you heâs close. the sound of your bodies slapping together and the rhythmic banging of the bed against the wall is obscene in the quiet room. itâs what finally pushes you over.
your climax is a violent, shuddering thing, your inner muscles clenching around him desperately. itâs all it takes for him. with a final, guttural roar thatâs ripped from the depths of his chest, he comes, his body going rigid as he empties himself deep inside you.
he collapses on top of you, his heavy weight a comforting anchor. youâre both panting, your bodies trembling with the aftershocks. he stays buried inside you, not moving, just breathing you in.
a sharp rap on the door makes you both flinch. âtimeâs up, winchester!â
dean groans, pressing one last, hard kiss to your mouth before reluctantly and carefully pulling out of you. he stands, pulling his jumpsuit back up, once again becoming the prisoner. he looks at you, a mess on the creaking, noisy bed, and a flicker of the old dean, yourdean, shines through the hardness.
âlove you, baby,â he says, his voice soft for the first time.
and as the guard opens the door to take him away, you know this was worth every second.
you were standing in the bathroom, looking in the mirror as you applied your lipstick.
you were getting ready for a night out with your friends.
as began finishing off final touches you could hear familiar footsteps coming up behind you.
your eyes shifted, finding your boyfriends eyes already looking at you.
dean was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.
"you know, you could just not go." dean protested, walking closer to you.
you let out a soft sigh, shaking your head "i already promised them I'd go, dean." you said.
dean wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.
you could feel him breathing against your ear "what can i do to convince you to stay?"
you licked your lips "dean, come on you're doing this now?" you strained, trying not to give in.
dean pressed his crotch against your ass, making you feel his growing bulge.
"just this once, please." he pleads into your ear, you bit down on your lip trying to hold back a whine.
you could feel dean's bulge growing by the second, waiting for you to give him a verbal answer.
"fine- just try not to make me mess up my makeup."
dean wasted no time pulling your panties down and raising your dress up.
you could hear dean undoing his belt and a faint thud as his jeans and belt hit the floor.
he wrapped his hand around his cock, slowly running his tip along your folds.
he could feel you getting wetter by the second, he let out a faint groan.
"my god, i could never let you leave after being this wet for me." dean grumbled in your ear.
Dean drove his cock inside of you with one brutal thrust causing a sudden moan to come from your throat.
he could feel your wetness coating his cock with your gummy walls squeezing him.
"Fuck-that's right baby." Dean grunted, setting a fast pace. He gripped your hips hard enough to leave a mark for the next day.
You could only moan and push yourself back against him.
Dean removed his left hand from your hips, grabbing your chin and making you look at yourself in the mirror.
"Don't you dare take your eyes away from that mirror." Dean demanded.
You let out a small whine, feeling him grip harder onto your cheeks.
You watched dean from the mirror.
Watching how every muscle flexed with each thrust, the way his eyes were narrow in concentration.
"you love getting fucked like this don't you?" Dean groaned into your ear, gently biting down on your neck.
You nodded "yes-I love it." You whimpered breathlessly "I love you."
Dean swiped his thumb across your lip, smearing the lipstick across your face.
"You look better like this." Dean said through his smug smirk.
He resumed into slamming his hips into yours, making sure you feel every vein in his cock.
You let out a silent cry, squeezing your eyes shut as Dean's thrusts became more frantic.
"Shit-" Dean shuddered, slamming into you one last time before painting your insides with thick ropes of cum.
You collapsed on the counter, trying to catch your breath with Dean's softening cock still inside of you.
As you slowly shut your eyes your phone began to ring.
Just as you were about to grab your phone, dean got it before you could.
He pressed the answer button, pressing the phone against his ear.
"she won't be going out tonight."
With those simple words dean hung up, placing your phone back on the counter sink.
He leaned down pressing a tender kiss on your shoulder "let's get you tucked in."
niniâs mail : this took me so long for absolutely no reason, Iâm fuming this is supposed to be with my kinktober list but Iâm still kinda working on it..
NOTE : dividers or pictures do not belong to me!! credits go to original owners/creators!!
â 18+
demon dean + vlogger!reader
a/n: i, in fact, did not lock in this semester and continued being horny.
you set up your camera on the tripod, double-checking the angle so it'll catch your face and the ridiculous chalk circle on the floor. the book in front of you looks like something straight out of a horror movie. summoning and binding: a practical guide. you laugh, talking to the lens.
"alright guys, todays video is gonna be insane," you say, waving the book. "i found this in the library and itâs supposed to summon demons or whatever. obviously fake, obviously⊠let's see."
you flip to the page marked with a sticky note and clear your throat, trying to sound dramatic. the latin feels clumsy on your tongue. the words taste strange, heavy. you smirk at the camera, rolling your eyes. "yeah, real spooky, right?"
but then the air tightens. the shadows bend. the flame of the nearest candle flares high enough to lick the ceiling. your laugh dies in your throat. a low, amused voice cuts through the hum of the room.
"well, sweetheart⊠wasnât expecting a personal invite tonight."
you whip around, heart hammering. a man steps out of the dark, broad-shouldered, lips curled in a wicked grin. his eyes gleam gold for a flash before settling on a green so sharp it makes your breath catch.
he glances at the camera, then back at you. "and you're recording this? kinky."
the red light winks in the corner, recording every shaky breath you take, and that wicked grin of his only sharpens. "well, arenât you cute," he drawls, strolling toward it. "setting up your own little audience. didnât even ask if i minded being filmed."
before you can stammer out a word, he crouches, big hands gripping the tripod. the metal creaks as he tilts the camera, angling it down toward the chalk circle like heâs directing his own show. then he mutters something under his breath, thumb tapping the buttonâ pausing the recording with a decisive beep.
"nah," he chuckles, straightening back up, eyes glittering as they rake over you. "you don't get to be the one calling the shots, sweetheart. this is my performance now."
and then heâs on you. his mouth crashes against yours, rough and greedy, tasting like smoke and sin. his hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back so he can take what he wants, his teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to sting.
"mmm," he murmurs against your mouth, cocky and smug. "you taste way too sweet for someone dumb enough to summon me."
his mouth leaves yours for just a second, only enough to let you breathe. his hand is still in your hair, thumb stroking your jaw almost tenderlyâ mocking, like heâs savoring how rattled you look.
"so tell me, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low and sinful, "you really want this? you called me, but i need to hear it. you want me to put you down right here in your little pentagram?"
your pulse stutters, but you nod without thinking. "y-yes." he laughs, soft and wicked, brushing his lips against yours again. "yes, huh? cute. say it again. louder."
"yes."
his grin spreads, cocky and sharp, his breath hot against your ear. "fuck, that's good. music to my ears. you're practically begging, and all i had to do was show up."
he presses you back until your spine hits the chalk lines, the rough circle smudging under your body. the candles flicker with the shift of air, shadows jumping across the walls, and he cages you in with his body like you belong there.
"don't worry, sweetheart," he rasps, dragging his teeth over your throat, "i'll give you everything you asked for."
his grin only widens as his hands skate down your sides, slow and deliberate. he tugs at your shirt, pulling it up over your head before you can think, tossing it carelessly outside the circle. "that's it," he purrs. "strip for me. i wanna see what kind of girl summons a demon 'cause sheâs too lonely to get laid."
heat floods your face, but you obeyâ fumbling with your jeans, shoving them down clumsily under his stare. the book lies forgotten, candles flickering, and all you can think about is the way his eyes devour every inch of skin you reveal. when youâre bare, he presses you back down, the chalk lines biting into your shoulders. then he grabs your legs, rough but sure, and hikes your knees over his shoulders. the position has you spread wide, completely open to him.
he smirks up at you, tongue darting over his lower lip. "fuck, look at you. all ready for me, like you've been waiting your whole life for this."
and then he dives in. his mouth is hot and demanding, tongue flicking and sucking until your gasp breaks into a helpless moan. but he isnât satisfied with just that. his hand shoots out, grabs the camera from where it was paused, and shoves it into your grip. he clicks the buttonâ recording flashes back to lifeâ then angles your wrist so the lens is pointing straight down at the mess he's making of you.
his mouth works you over mercilessly, tongue flicking and curling, lips sealing around your clit just enough to make your whole body jerk. your hands shake as you try to keep the camera steady, the red light glaring at you like it knows every filthy detail being recorded.
he drags his tongue in one long, slow stripe, deliberately lazy, then pauses to press a kiss right where youâre throbbing most. "your not cumming until you beg for it. loud enough for me. loud enough for the camera."
your thighs tremble on his shoulders, the need building so sharp it hurts. "please," you whimper.
he bites down lightly, making you gasp, then lifts his head. "not good enough. c'mon, sweetheart. you summoned meâ you wanted this. so ask for it. beg like you mean it."
the desperation chokes you, heat flooding your cheeks as you stammer, "please let me cum, deanâ fuck, i need it, iâll do anythingâ"
his laugh is dark and smug, vibrating through you as he ducks back down. "there it is. that's what i wanted to hear." then his mouth seals back on you, harder, faster, relentlessâ like he's cashing in on every filthy word you just gave him.
you barely have time to catch your breath when he pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he just finished a meal. his grin is wicked, eyes dark with hunger. his hands shove your thighs apart, his jeans already undone, cock heavy and hard against your slick entrance. no hesitationâ he just pushes in, the stretch sharp and overwhelming, stealing the air from your lungs.
"fuck," he groans, head dropping to your shoulder. "tight little pussy like this, you're really gonna let a demon fuck this sweet little pussy, huh?"
the camera wobbles in your hand as he drives into you, hips slamming against yours, every thrust deep and merciless. the chalk circle beneath you smears with sweat and skin, candles flickering wildly. he doesn't stop at fucking youâ his mouth is all over you too. his teeth scrape down your neck, biting until the skin blooms red, then lower, sucking bruises into the soft flesh of your chest.
his thrusts grow sharper, more impatient, and then he grabs your wrists, yanking the camera from your trembling hand to place it back on the floor at the perfect angle. the red light blinks, catching every second.
"on your hands and knees," he orders, voice low and dangerous. when you hesitate for half a second, he just laughs and manhandles you into position himselfâ flipping you over, dragging your knees against the chalk until youâre face-down, ass up in the middle of the pentagram.
your palms press into the smeared symbols, your breath ragged. before you can even settle, heâs behind you, one big hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you down, the other guiding his cock right back into you. he slams forward in one brutal stroke, groaning like he owns you. the sound of skin on skin fills the room, your body jolting with every thrust. his grip is unyieldingâ pinning you down, hips pounding yours until you can barely think straight.
he's still slamming into you when he suddenly slows, pulling out with a low groan. his hand slides up the back of your neck, into your hair, twisting until heâs got a firm fistful. "c'mere," he groans , yanking you upright. your back arches against his chest, your knees still on the chalk. you're dizzy from the shift, from the roughness, from how big he feels pressed against you.
he spins you around until youâre kneeling, eyes level with his cock, slick with you. his grin is pure sin. "open up."
your lips part automatically, and he guides himself to your mouth. the taste of him and you hits your tongue as he slides in, slow at first, then deeper. at the same time, his other hand slips between your thighs, fingers finding your soaked entrance. he pushes two inside without warning, curling them just right while he uses your hair to control the pace of your mouth on him.
"that's it," he rasps, watching you through heavy lids. "god, you're a mess. sucking me off while i finger you.. this is what you wanted when you lit those candles, huh?"
he thrusts shallowly into your mouth, fingers working you faster, deliberately hitting that spot until your thighs tremble. "look at you," he groans, voice rough and cocky. "such a good little summoner. gonna cum all over my fingers while you choke on my cock?"
his fingers work you harder, faster, relentless little curls that make your whole body start to shake. his cock slides against your tongue, the weight and taste of him filling your mouth. your eyes water, a whimper caught in your throat, and he groans at the sight. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing rough circles as his fingers keep hitting deep. the pressure snaps all at onceâ you moan around him, body jerking as you fall apart on his hand.
he watches you a beat longer, grin lazy and satisfied. then he leans down, thumb dragging through his own mess on your skin, and smears it across your lower lip like a signature.
before you can catch your breath, the air shifts againâ candles blow out all at once, shadows folding inward. heâs just.. gone. the red light on your camera blinks steadily. still recording.
dean growlsâlow and dangerousâhips jerking up like he canât help it.
"public, huh?" his voice is rough, dark with promise. "you wanna be bad for me in front of people?" his finger thrusts deeper, curling just right and his thumb smears your wetness over your clit in slow circles.
"i could ruin you in the back booth at the dinerâŠ" he leans up slightly, lips brushing your ear.
"one hand under that skirt⊠two fingers deep while you try not to moan into your fucking fancy oat milk latte." then lower.
"or against the library shelf when no oneâs looking⊠me on my knees, pulling you over the edge while sam thinks youâre just grabbing a book."
dean pulls back, those emerald eyes blazing.
"christ," he mutters. "iâd make sure everyone knows whose girl you are⊠even if they canât see what iâm doing to that tight little pussy."
then soft and possessive, he kisses your inner thigh.
"but mornings and nights? those are mine alone." he pulls his finger out slowâglisteningâand drags it up your slit before leaning close to your ear.
"first? the bunkerâs training room." dean's thumb circles your clit. "youâre sparring with sam⊠sweat on your skin, that tight little tank riding up⊠and i walk in like i belong there. but instead of watching? i push you against the mats⊠drop to my knees right in front of everyone⊠and bury my face in you before anyone can say a damn thing."
then another.
"the garage. you come looking for meâwearing those tight jeans and nothing underneath 'cause you knew what iâd do if you did." a wicked smirk, his thick fingers teasing your needy hole.
"iâm under the impala... slide out real slow... see that hungry look in your eyes?" his hand grips your thigh.
"next thing you know, iâve got one leg over my shoulder and my mouth working that sweet pussy while the radio plays zeppelin loud enough to cover your moans."
one moreâhe whispers it like a sin.
"crowded bar. you're dancing too close to me... hips grinding, ass against my cock... so i lean down and say: âbeg me to touch you.â"
his finger slips back insideâdeepâand curls hard. "and when you whisper please, right into my ear?" he nips your neck. "i slide two fingers under that tiny skirt... right there on the dance floor... make you come with everyone watching but not knowing."
he pulls back just enough to watch your face burn with need.
summary. who'd guessed you'd be this devastated over an angel? drinking at 10 am, drunk dialing... the bartender is definitely not impressed.
pairing. castiel x reader ( f )
wordcount. 728 genre. angst
warnings. heavy drinking, drunkenness, heartbreak, breakup themes, drunk calling
masterlist Ë ĘâŹâ.Ë now playing áá||á go go juice by sabrina carpenter
Happy hour comes early when your heartâs been chewed up and spat out by an angel of the Lord.
Ten a.m. on a Tuesday, and youâre already leaning against a bar sticky with last nightâs regrets. The bartender gives you a look, that pinched one that says donât make me be the adult here.
âLittle early, donât you think?â he mutters, polishing the same glass for the fifth time.
You smirk, or at least you try toâit comes out more like a grimace. âItâs five oâclock somewhere.â
He sighs, but pours anyway. Vodka and something sweet that burns going down. You take it in one swallow, chasing the silence gnawing at your chest.
A girl who knows her liquor is a girl whoâs been dumped. And Godâliterallyâdid you ever get dumped.
You canât stop picturing it. Castiel, hands folded awkwardly in front of him, that gravel voice laced with an apology that sounded like a prayer. I care about you deeply. But my path is not with you.
Translation: goodbye.
And here you are, pouring tequila on the wound and hoping itâll scab over. It doesnât. It just throbs.
By your fourth drink, youâre chatty. By your sixth, your phone feels like itâs grown teeth, sinking into your palm.
âDonât,â you mumble to yourself, swaying in your stool. âDo not do it.â
But then youâre scrolling anyway. John. Larry. Some random number saved as pizza guy. None of them will answer. None of them matter.
Except for the one that rhymes with villain.
You hit Call before you can talk yourself out of it.
The line clicks, and thenââHello?â
His voice. Rough, low, achingly familiar. It shreds you.
âCas,â you breathe, then giggle. God, you sound insane. âHey. Hi. Itâs me. Your favorite mistake.â
Thereâs a pause. You can almost hear the tilt of his head. ââŠYouâre intoxicated.â
âNooo,â you slur, half-laughing, half-crying. âIâm celebrating. You know. Big life stuff. Like, umâbeing tragically single and tragically stupid.â
âY/N,â he says softly. The sound of your name nearly kills you. âYou shouldnât be calling me.â
âI shouldnât be doing a lot of things.â You sip from your glassâempty, damn itâand smack it down. âBut here I am. Drinking. Missing you every goddamn minute. Wondering if you⊠if you even think about me.â
You expect silence. You expect that cold angel detachment he wore like armor.
Instead, his voice drops low. ââŠOf course I think about you.â
The words hit like another shot straight to your bloodstream. You grip the phone tighter, tears pricking your lashes. âThen whyâd you leave, Cas? If you think about meâif you careâwhy did you leave me here?â
Thereâs a sound, faint, like heâs exhaling into the receiver. âBecause I thought it was what was best for you.â
âBest for me?â You laugh, broken and bitter. âNewsflash, angel: itâs not. Best for me was you. Best for me was waking up next to you instead of at a bar at ten a.m., trying to drown out the fact that you donât want me anymore.â
Your voice cracks. You hate yourself for it. But itâs out there now, raw and loud and messy.
âY/Nââ
âDonât,â you snap. Then softer, trembling: âDonât say my name like that. Like you still love me.â
Heâs quiet. You hate him for it. You love him for it. You wish you could hang up, but your thumb wonât move.
âMaybe I do,â Cas finally murmurs.
Your breath stutters. The bar spins.
âThen come back,â you whisper, the plea spilling out before you can catch it. âCome back and make this stop hurting.â
The line goes silent, except for the faint buzz of connection. You can picture himâtrench coat, solemn face, eyes full of galaxies youâll never hold again.
âI canât,â he says at last. âNo matter how much I wish I could.â
Something inside you caves. Your laugh comes out hollow. âFigures. Even Godâs soldier wonât fight for me.â
The bartender waves a hand, mouthing last one as he sets another drink down. You take it, throwing it back like it might stitch the crack in your chest.
âGoodbye, Castiel,â you say, voice breaking but resolute.
You hang up before he can answer.
And then itâs just you, the sticky bar, and the bitter truth that no amount of liquor can drown: you loved an angel, and he let you go.
ê. all works ; writing guidelines ; support my work .á
a/n: IâVE WANTED TO WRITE FOR MARK FOR SOOO LONG AND FINALLY DECIDED TO SIT DOWN AND WRITE!! HOPE YALL ENJOY!
The room is still heavy with sleep when you slip under the sheets, Markâs fast asleep, his breathing slow and steady, lips parted as if heâs in the middle of some dream you donât plan to let him finish. His hair is messy against the pillow.
He doesnât stir when you tug his shorts down just enough to free him. His cock rests against his stomach, thick and already twitching like his body knew youâd be here before his mind did.
You start slow. A kiss on the tip, featherlight, then a slow drag of your tongue along the underside, tasting salt and sleep. Your breath is hot against him and he groans in his sleep, rolling his head deeper into the pillow, still hovering in that daze-y headspace between dreaming and waking.
When you wrap your lips around the head and sink down, his reaction is instantâa low, deep noise from his chest, followed by a lazy hand reaching out, finding your hair. He doesnât force, doesnât push, just tangles his fingers there, grounding himself.
âMm, fuckâŠâ His voice comes out as thick groan, raw with sleep. âThatâs⊠oh, fuck, babyâŠâ
You take him deeper, cheeks hollowing as you work your tongue against the thick vein, sucking until spit is sliding down your chin. He groans again, hips jerking just a little, as if his body canât help itself. His eyes are still shut, face slack with pleasure, like he canât be bothered to fully wake up and he just wants to float there, in the haze, while you do all the work.
His thumb strokes your scalp lazily. Itâs encouraging but not demanding. You swirl your tongue around the head before swallowing him again, deeper this time, your throat tightening as you push past your gag reflex. The sound makes his chest rumble.
âJesusâ youâre gonna kill me first thing in the morning.â His laugh is broken, more a groan than anything. âDonât stop. donât you dare stop.â
You obey, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm now, spit coating him, obscene noises filling the silence of the room. Every time you swallow him down, his hips buck up, like instinct, shallow but enough to make you gag around him. He cracks one eye open, groggy, looking down at you through heavy lidsâand the sight of you, messy and desperate with his cock buried in your throat, makes his jaw clench. His grip tightens in your hair. âFuck, baby⊠look at you. So fuckinâ pretty with my cock in your mouthâŠâ
That praise makes you go harder, faster, tears threatening at the corners of your eyes as you keep swallowing him, the weight of him heavy on your tongue. His moans get louder, his thighs tensing under your hands, his breath uneven. He starts rocking his hips lazily, chasing more friction, groaning every time you gag around him.
âGonnaâ fuck âgonna comeâ!â His voice is wrecked, his head thrown back against the pillow below him. âSuch a good girl for me.â
His body arches as he spills down your throat, hot and thick, his moans low and drawn-out. You swallow every drop, throat working around him until he twitches, overstimulated, gasping your name. His hand in your hair turns into a gentle cradle, pulling you off slowly, like he canât quite believe you just did that.
You lick your lips, wiping spit and come from your chin, and crawl up to straddle him. He looks at you finally, eyes glassy and lazy, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.
âWell, good morning to you too, princess.â Mark gives you a lazy smirk, before pulling you down for a kiss.
namgyu wants to get sober, but the only thing that gets his mind off the drugs is sex. the two of you have an agreement: if he's tempted to use again, he comes and takes what he needs from you.
content tags: smut (18+, mdni), consensual free-use, oral (f receiving), fingering, dry humping only it's very wet humping, unprotected sex
a/n: a little apology for not having time to write a new chapter of compliance~ this has been stuck in my brain for far too long, wc 5.1k
despite what he may think, namgyu is incapable of subtlety.Â
your arrangement has lasted months now, but even in the early days you could see his intentions from a mile away. of course, there were times when he was in genuine strife - those times he had almost relapsed, times he had relapsed - and didnât waste a second taking what he needed.Â
but most of the time, especially these days, he tries to quietly lead up to it, like youâre not going to notice his cock if your mouth if he slips it in slow enough. you havenât told him how obvious he is. truth be told, outside of the (usual) sexual gratification he gives you, watching him steadily get more and more desperate as you fail to ânoticeâ his come-ons is the most satisfying part of your week.Â
the two of you are in the kitchen on your mutual day off for a late breakfast. he, predictably, is not contributing at all but instead opts to beguile you with every last detail of the incredibly complex hierarchy at his job.Â
â-which obviously pissed minsu the fuck off because he always double-checks those details, you know?â his rings clink against the kitchen island with every drum of his fingers, but the rhythmic sound is strangely soothing.
âi canât imagine minsu pissed off,â you muse as you crack a few eggs into the hot saucepan, tossing the shells and rinsing the residue off of your fingers.Â
namgyu reaches up to scratch the back of an ear. âwell, he cried. but, i mean, the anger was definitely there under the surface.â
âiâm sure.â your roommate gives a little huff at the deadpan tone. âbut he got it sorted?â
âyeah,â he huffs again, more derisively this time. âfucking mina was pouring doubles this whole time without realising it. junhoâs gonna shadow her next week, i think.â
you have to suppress a smirk as you put some bread on to toast. it wasnât news to you that namgyu has some kind of one-sided beef with the university student. sheâs a social butterfly and makes absolute bank in tips - now, you suppose, some of it may be due to the fact that her patrons are getting more bang for their buck - so naturally namgyu has to go against the curve and make his dislike known.Â
namgyu isnât impressed with your apparent lack of reaction. the fingers resume their drumming on the counter-top. âyou know, thanos offered me ket after his show last night.â
your hands still over the toaster. there it is. in his mind, this is probably the tiniest inkling, just enough to insert the topic into the conversation âorganically.â to you, itâs a sign that you may as well give up on breakfast already. âhe knows youâre clean.â
he shrugs. âi think heâs just doing it to be polite.â
âitâs not polite,â you shoot back instinctively, cursing the protective streak. usually you act oblivious to his advances for a while first, but thanos has caused namgyu to fall off the wagon too many times. you bite your tongue to stop yourself from speaking on it further, but even out of your peripheral you can see the way his chest puffs up a little in satisfaction.
âyeah, well⊠i said no,â he clarifies redundantly. if he had relapsed again, it wouldâve been pretty obvious. the two of you both know how quickly any drug rips through him now.
affecting a nonchalant demeanour, you turn to wave your spatula at him. âyou want a gold star? participation trophy?â
his mouth scrunches up sulkily. âtechnically it should be a non-participation trophy.â
with a huff, you focus back on the eggs, which are just about ready. âsave some of those zingers for the comedy club, man.â the four slices of toast pop with a metallic ping, and you stack them on a plate to set in front of him. next comes the butter and a knife, directly beside his right hand.Â
even as you start to season the eggs, he makes no move to butter the toast, just watching your side profile. âsometimes itâs hard to say no.â
you swallow down a laboured sigh. in the early days, youâd just about cried whenever he said something like that. namgyu had admitted to you in a moment of intense vulnerability right in the depths of early withdrawal that one of the rare things that managed to ease the burden was sex, but that finding a girlfriend was out of the question. casual sex wasnât really possible either; by the time desperation truly kicked in, he wasnât exactly in a good state of mind to chat someone up.Â
youâd slept together for the first time that night. almost two years of being roommates, of wishing you could do more to help him disentangle himself from addiction, and finally youâd seen a little willpower, a shred of relief return to him. it was practically philanthropic. your steady, smouldering attraction to him made it an obvious choice to give him an offer.Â
if namgyu felt like he was going to do something stupid, or if the physical and mental pangs of withdrawal were getting the better of him, he could use you within the walls of your apartment as a distraction instead. no questions asked, whenever he needed.
your friends quickly began to suspect the two of you had entered into a friends-with-benefits relationship and neither of you moved to dispel the rumour. it was more dignified than what really went on.Â
over the past few months, the two of you have had sex more times than you can count. youâve been woken up in the night to grant him permission to fuck your thighs, youâve been late for work sucking him off because he made the mistake of watching scarface, he cried from a handjob when he hit one month clean. recently, though, you get the feeling that heâs grown accustomed to taking you when he wants. even though heâs better now - all his friends see it too - he hasnât slept with you any less.Â
the slight sourness of burning cuts you back to reality, and you quickly move to dislodge the eggs from the base of the pan. ânamgyu, the toast.â
they remain untouched. he slides the plate towards you, making no excuse for his unhelpfulness.Â
switching the heat off, you place the frypan on the metal of the sink and quickly butter the bread yourself, dividing them onto two plates. the two of you have this exact same breakfast every tuesday morning (barely, as the clock creeps closer to midday) without fail. you with paprika and some salt, namgyu with a flash flood of smoky sriracha.
âtheyâre a little burnt because my sous chef apparently called in sick today,â you drawl once his has finished. your unspoken routine leads the two of you to the couch, where you draw your knees up and rest your plate precariously on them to start eating.
as always, namgyu eats like heâs trying to choke on it. the overenthusiastic sounds and sauce that collects in the corners of his lips would gross you out were it not for the vivid memory of how little he had eaten back in the throes of addiction. he never had an appetite - not for food, anyway - and when he did eat he just picked at convenience store fried chicken or mcdonalds hash browns, throwing away what he didnât get through.Â
you, on the other hand, try to enjoy the fruits of your labour, though the egg is definitely overdone. namgyuâs finished before you even begin your second piece. âis the a/c on?â he asks suddenly, discarding the plate on the coffee table with a loud clank.
âwe donât have an a/c, namgyu.â
he swallows. you try not to let your eyes linger on the bobbing in his throat. âitâs just - i donât know, i feel so cold all of a sudden.â
you reach over to poke at the soft skin of his upper arm. âyou donât even have goosebumps,â you point out, pausing to take another mouthful of crackly egg white, âgo put a jacket on.â
namgyu points his chin away decisively. âitâs like a chill in my bones. a jacket wouldnât help.âÂ
âsounds terrible.â
put out by your dubious tone, he sinks back against the couch. youâre not sure why exactly, but since heâs been weaning off of the drugs and eating better with your cooking, his hair has begun to curl up like it too has received a new lease on life. his skin isnât so pallid, his eyes have a genuine glimmer rather than a manic one, but his sulky pout is the exact same as itâs always been.
the silence between you, softened by the background noise of muffled traffic in the streets below, doesnât last long. youâre midway through chewing down a particularly large spoonful when you feel his hand on your inner knee.
you fight another sigh, even as your core begins to heat like a pavlovian dog. ânamgyuâŠâ almost without thinking, you begin to chew a little faster, knowing whatâs coming.Â
âdeoksu asked me to pick up a shift at the pent tonight. some high-rollers changed their flight schedule to come earlier and itâs got him tweaking.â namgyuâs fingers squeeze around you for just a moment, hand gradually stroking down. his eyes are on you, but theyâre lowered, as if in deference.Â
âare you gonna go?â you question before jamming the last of your breakfast into your mouth.Â
a slow, solemn exhale. âi should, i could use the money. but i just donât feel like iâm in a good state of mind right now.â his hand has slid low enough that his pinky is now resting where your thighs meet inches away from your clothed core. âthanosâ offer really fucked with me, you know?â
you lean forward to set your plate down, inadvertently squeezing around namgyuâs fingers. he lets out a quiet groan you donât think you were supposed to hear. âweird. you seemed totally fine last night.â
clearly, namgyu is abandoning his version of subtlety as he swivels around on the couch to face you and exerts enough pressure to part your thighs, palming you. âif thanos is there again tonight, i donât know if i have the willpower to say no twice. i need you.â
your legs fall open on their own as your breath quickens at the muffled pleasure of his hand on you. âcan i at least go put the laundry on first? i have shit to do today, namgyu.â
he rubs a little faster, knowing heâs wearing you down. âiâll be quick.â
âyou wonât be quick,â you counter immediately, even as you rock your hips into his touch. âyouâre not going to shoot up in the next five minutes if i go put a load on.â
âyeah, well, iâve got a load, too,â he whinges, hand sliding up to your knee to part you further for him.Â
you hate the way his stupid joke pulls a genuine laugh from you. âthatâs not even-â your words are punched out of you as he tugs at you impatiently, pulling you by both calves so you twist and fall back ungracefully onto the couch cushions. âwhatâs gotten into you?â
âi told you, thanos-â
âheâs such a recurring character, namgyu,â you complain even as he begins to slide your pyjama shorts down. you donât fight him. âif heâs really that bad, iâll call him myself and tell him to stop pulling that shit.â
your shorts are flung to a random corner of the room after he snakes them off your ankles. he scooches down a little lower, hands stroking up the inside of your legs until they reach your thighs again.Â
another benefit of playing reluctant and unsympathetic? namgyu bribes you with head.
he whines your name like youâre being unbelievably cruel. âdonât worry about that now. itâs not important.â dipping his head, he drags the point of his tongue in a swooping arch around your clit. you suck in a sharp breath and the reaction makes him dig his fingers into the soft skin of your thighs tight enough that the rings pinch a little.Â
groaning, you let the weight of his hands push your legs open wider as he gives your clit a few licks before sucking it into his mouth. you shudder and snake your hand down to latch onto his loose curls. you suspect namgyu is a bit of a selfish lover naturally; at the start, he was clumsy and heavy-handed on the rare occasions he went down on you.Â
but for all his lack of skill, heâs a very quick learner. it didnât take long for him to work out what you liked and hone in on it. namgyu isnât a munch. heâs efficient. he wants to make the delay to fucking you as short as possible.Â
you certainly arenât complaining. the smoulder inside you is quickly fanned into flames, and you have no hesitation in rocking your hips below him, breath catching when his nose bumps against your clit. he lets out a muffled grumble of approval, satisfied heâs going to get his way. namgyu always does.Â
the last slivers of pride you have force you to bite down on your knuckles and hold back any sounds of pleasure. in the early days youâd eagerly offered yourself to him in times of need like a martyr. lately, your cat-and-mouse game of pleading and reluctance gets you far wetter than it should.Â
thereâs a certain kind of power to making namgyu really work for it. and, judging by the way heâs grinding at the couch through his boxers, he doesnât mind groveling - not that heâd ever admit it.Â
try as you might to remain silent, your shallow breaths and stuttering hips are a dead giveaway of how desperate you are to get off. lapping at you messy, just how you like, namgyu glances up to assess his success rate. though you canât see his face, buried nose deep as he is, you can feel the curl of his grin, the pressure of his cheeks in the crooks of your thighs. the smug motherfucker.Â
you tip your chin back, breaking away from the sinful sight of him yet pressing the back of his head down a little harder, making him grumble again. two fingers snake their way inside you and this time you canât hold in the shaky moan it pulls from you. heâs well-versed in tracking down the most sensitive parts of you, and this is no different. thereâs no building up to it, no slow pumps to relax your core, no sensuality at all. he hooks them up slightly and drags the pads of his fingers against you. your nerves are trapped on both sides, and heâs growing more impatient with every second that passes by.Â
a lazy smile tugs at your lips. it feels so good itâs almost too much, balancing on the perfect edge of mind-blowing and overwhelming. as the nails of his free hand dig into the plush flesh of your outer thigh, you feel an orgasm begin to build. a tiny mirage at first, a flicker of warmth a little keener than the rest, but soon building up until your teeth are digging grooves into the back of your hand with the force of holding back.
your heel drags up his back almost like it has a mind of its own, and your spine arches so restlessly your neck aches. namgyuâs tongue speeds up, occasionally pressing your clit up against the edges of his front teeth, the sensation sharp enough to make you jerk underneath him.Â
youâre so close you can almost taste it, can feel yourself tensing up in anticipation of a violent release, when namgyu suddenly lifts off of you with an audible pop, slipping his fingers out and getting off the couch casually despite the tent in his pants.
âna- y- what are you doing?â your voice is embarrassingly reedy as you slide your hand between your legs unthinkingly, rubbing against the fine bones of your wrist to ease the ache. itâs too late; your high is dissolving like fairy floss in water. âwhat the hell?â
he wipes at his face, seemingly unapologetic and unbothered. âyou said you had laundry to do?â
you gape at him in disbelief. âare you fucking kidding me? hey, where are you going?â
namgyu shrugs, bending down to pick up the two empty plates. âdoing the dishes.âÂ
naked from the waist down and dripping with need, you stare openmouthed at your roommate pads over to the kitchen and sets them down with a clank. for a few moments, words fail you. you just watch him silently, his forced aloofness at odds with the clumsy, awkward way he washes the pan and dishes - a chore heâs always despised.
finally, you manage to stand on shaky legs and track down your sleep shorts and underwear to slide back on. you grimace at the tacky feeling, making a mental note to change before you do the washing. âwhat happened to not having the âwillpowerâ to turn down drugs?â you question with air-quotes, even though he has his back to you.Â
âi guess iâm just progressing in my recovery,â he offers up by way of explanation. you frown at his lofty tone as he turns halfway to send you a fake-concerned look. âyou seem really bothered. i thought youâd be happy for me.â
you scowl suspiciously, joining him in the kitchen. he has his hands plunged in the warm water to clean a single teaspoon, soapy to the elbows, with splashes all over his shirt. you hate the way his untidiness makes your heart twang in endearment. âyouâre such an asshole,â you mutter instead.
namgyu hums and returns to the task at hand. by the time he drains the water, all of the dishes are stacked precariously on the drying rack, most of them still with frothy bubbles in the dips and divots. he ignores you for so long that eventually you decide to give up on his odd behaviour and actually get your own jobs done. itâs just as you approach the hallway that he speaks up airily. âif you want help with something, you know, you can just ask.â
pausing in the doorway for a beat, you then turn back to him. heâs wiping himself - but not the dishes - dry with a paper towel, lips quirked up but pressed between his teeth like heâs trying to suppress it. you furrow your brows. âwhat?â
he shrugs again, leaning back against the benchtop. âif you need something, all you have to do is say so.â
you huff at his evasiveness, crossing your arms over your chest. âyou want me to beg you to fuck me?â
namgyuâs rings click a steady beat against the counter. for a moment, he drops eye contact with you, chewing at the skin of his lip.Â
like the sun breaking through clouds, his intentions start to come into clarity. âare you saying you want this to be mutual?â your irritation softens at the way he shifts a little in place. namgyu seems weirdly sensitive, a raw edge exposed. the last time he acted this vulnerable was when he first accepted your help that night. ânamgyuâŠâ
he promptly stands upright, looking away almost defensively. âyou act like itâs such a fucking inconvenience but you never say no. i just-â his mouth twitches. âforget about it.â
youâre not dropping it that easily. just as he pushes off the bench and goes to leave, you rush forward to barricade the entrance. âyou just what?â
namgyu shakes his head silently, staring stubbornly past your shoulder at the hallway. he tugs at the lock of hair at the nape of his neck, a nervous movement you often saw from him in the early days of withdrawal where heâd do anything he could to keep his hands busy. your heart seizes at the thought that youâve misjudged him. ânamgyu,â you continue emphatically, âdid the pill thing with thanos really affect you? iâm sorry, i shouldâve- if you need the distraction, we can-â
âi donât need it,â he blurts suddenly, sucking in a breath through his teeth. his eyes close lightly, like he can take the words back if he doesnât see you react to them. he utters your name, hand still wound in his hair. âthatâs the problem. i donât need it, i just⊠want it. still. i want you.â
your tongue has a mind of its own, spilling words before you can vet them. âthat doesnât sound like a problem to me.â his eyes open at your words, crinkled in trepidation. âlisten, namgyu, if i didnât want you too i wouldâve said no a long time ago. fuck, i probably wouldâve set you up on tinder myself.â
âdonât mess with me,â he warns, but the words are soft and unguarded.
reaching out to playfully tug at the worn fabric of his oversized black tee, you canât help but smile. âiâm more than happy to renegotiate the terms of our arrangement. you can take what you want, and i get to as well.â
namgyu stares down at you for a few seconds, searching your face. finally, his expression relaxes. âwhat do you want, then?â
pleased, you begin walking backwards, towards the hallway. âi want you to finish what you started before i grow cobwebs down there.â
âthatâs disgusting,â heâs complaining even as he presses you up against the wall to halt your exit. his mouth descends on you before you have the chance to retort.
apparently this is a morning of new developments. for all the times the two of you have had sex, not once has namgyu kissed you. getting off was the goal, just a means to an end - although, you suppose youâd incorrectly assumed that was all it was this whole time - and foreplay and hand-holding was not really part of that.
now, though, your heart quickens at the sensual press of his lips on yours. his hands wander lower, from your shoulders to your chest, past your stomach to rest on the curve of your hips. itâs like heâs unwilling to relinquish any points of contact. a different kind of needy than the one youâve grown accustomed to.Â
you return his need in full. as he slides your shorts off, youâre cupping his face in both hands to ensure he doesnât stray. the dull sting of teeth finds your bottom lip, tugging just enough to make you whine out your next breath. he digs in a little harder before soothing the skin with the warmth of his tongue. his hands leave your hips; you murmur his name but itâs swallowed between you.
the absence is quickly explained by the press of something stiff across your lower abdomen. neither of you bother taking your shirts off. he rocks against you once, twice as his hands slide back under the outsides of your thighs. his fingers curl slightly and you lift a leg in response, sucking in a sharp breath against him as you feel the base of him against you.Â
just as you begin to slip your tongue past his teeth, eager to taste every inch of him, he pulls on the other thigh. your heart races as he prepares to fuck you against the wall. you push off with your other foot, and he lifts.
barely a second passes before his arms give out and your feet are thudding harshly down on the carpet again. you canât help it. you try to keep kissing him, but youâre snickering so hard you can feel your own breath ricocheting off of his cheek.Â
âshut up,â he murmurs against you, nails digging into your thighs warningly, âiâm still recovering.â
your laugh blooms louder and this time you have to pull away. âwhat a weak excuse. come on, pipsqueak, letâs find you a step stool.â
namgyu doesnât respond. at least, not verbally. while he might not have the strength to hold you aloft, he certainly doesnât mind wrapping his arms around your chest and knocking you off balance, bodily dragging you down the hallway as you fight to keep your feet beneath you. you cry out in indignation even as your laughter remains at the ridiculousness of your situation; both of you, naked from the waist down, with namgyu marching you down to his bedroom in fake annoyance.Â
he rounds the corner and, without a word, tosses you onto his bed back first. heâs tugging at your ankles before the springs of his mattress have even settled. your breath leaves you for the second time this morning as you find yourself at his mercy, dripping with need that you no longer need to act coy about.
namgyuâs slid you so that your hips just barely rest on the edge of the bed. you prop yourself up on your elbows to await his next move. even though his cock is so flushed it must hurt, even though you can see the wet glisten of precum clinging to the fine hairs of his happy trail, he takes his time in rocking against you, covering himself in your arousal.Â
with every swipe he drags slowly but deeply against your clit, and you canât muffle the desperate whine that wordlessly begs for more. on every upstroke, the tip just barely begins to press inside you, enough to make your breath hitch hopefully, before he passes by. you arch, spreading your legs wider, but it doesnât make him fuck you.Â
namgyu picks up his pace, letting out satisfied groans low in his throat. one hand is tucked under the crook of your knee to keep you open for him, the other holds a thumb to the top of his cock to you to keep from sliding off. âgod, thatâs so fuckingâŠâ he trails off, practically panting. the beginnings of sweat stick dark strands of hair to his cheeks.
despite the feeling of emptiness, the friction on your clit as well as your previous denied orgasm is enough for you to start feeling that coil inside you start to tighten. your breaths are just as rushed as his now and you paw at your chest to ground you, dragging over your stiff nipple through the fabric. namgyu lets out a broken curse at the sight.Â
your breaths sync, your hips rock in turn with his strokes along your cunt. every time, youâre convinced heâs going to finally fuck you properly, but he never dips in further than the blunt head of his cock. though your lips move - whether to express your pleasure or beg for more of it, you canât even tell - the only sound that you can produce is a hiccuped moan in time with each rut of his hips.Â
namgyuâs often vocal during sex. a lot of the time, especially if youâre the one putting in all the work, heâll just be bitching about whatever issue arose that made him need release. but then there are occasions where the air is filled with groaned sighs and the hiss of air between teeth. swearing and praising that grows more incomprehensible the closer he gets.Â
thatâs exactly what heâs like now, and - like all of those times - you grow impossibly wetter at the lust-filled sounds. youâre there; so close you can feel the pulse begin, can feel the muscles in your fingers and turns beg to tense up. but heâs already denied you once before, and you canât take it again.Â
you use your free leg to hook around him with the intention of pulling him closer, preventing him from leaving you. the timing is serendipitous. just as you push against his lower back, heâs beginning a new slide of his hips forwards. the teasing hint of pressure against your core doesnât pass, but instead breaches you. the moment the fat tip of his cock pushes in, instinct takes over. namgyuâs hips snap forward unceremoniously to chase your tight, wet heat, only stopping when heâs flush against you.
youâre so soaked that thereâs no resistance, but the sudden intrusion, unbearably deep, has your back arching off the bed with a broken scream.Â
âshit, iâm sor- oh, fuck.â even as your hands have flown down to grab at any part of him you can reach, he doesnât relent. the hand that had been holding him steady now rests flat against your pelvis, holding you in place as he thrusts primally into you.Â
through your overwhelmed haze, you can see the way his eyes squeeze shut, jaw hanging slack at the new height of pleasure being inside you has awarded him. you dig your nails into his forearm, his wrist, like a lifeline, practically sobbing with how incomprehensibly good you feel.
namgyuâs gasping out apologies, praise, approximations of your name, as he somehow manages to drive his hips into you even faster, even deeper. the second you feel him begin to twitch, itâs like a string is cut.Â
your orgasm hits you so hard that for a moment you go completely silent. it tears through every nerve in your body, neurons firing and neon colours flashing bright behind clenched-shut eyes. your breath returns, every exhale a broken moan. your leg tightens around him, keeping him close.
beneath your hold, namgyuâs wrist jostles a bit. through the wall of pleasure, you notice fingers twisting between yours. heâs still pressing his hand against your lower abdomen to hold you steady, but now your hand is pinned there too, secure in his grasp.Â
he spills into you moments later. just as your high begins to settle into a warm, simmering pleasure, he tumbles into the throes of his. his hips stutter but refuse to still completely, fucking hot ropes of cum into you as his chin tips back, chest heaving.Â
finally, just as your nerves begin to sting, namgyu slows to the tiniest grind, completely spent. once again, you find your shallow breaths falling in line with his. after a few moments, he curls inwards, lying on top of you with a grunt.Â
the air is punched out of you at the sudden heft. âhey,â you protest, but thereâs no bite to your words. âthat cannot possibly be comfortable.â
his voice rumbles against the duvet right beside your ear as his cheek presses against the fabric. âmind your own business.â
even as your body begins to mostly settle, the throb in your core still makes you clench rhythmically, and you can hear the quietest grunts coming from namgyu with each one. your lips twitch. âhey, namgyu?â
âyeah?â
you grin, twisting your head around to face him. his eyes watch you hopefully. âremember when you couldnât lift me off the ground ten minutes ago?â
his face drops. âshut up,â he grumbles. this time, when you go to laugh, he cuts you off with a hand around the nape of your neck and his mouth on yours.Â
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