You loved what his skin felt like. Smooth and lovely like a petal you rub the water out of to let the smell stick to your fingers. He was taller than you, unsurprisingly- he was taller than most, but tall in the way deer legs were. Gangly and embarrassed to be seen. The first time you saw him you felt like a dirty pervert. He was bent over one of the bar stools at the pub, reaching around for a textbook he had dropped and you imagined taking him apart then and there. Pulling those shaggy bangs away from his forehead and yanking until his pretty shoulders were in an arch.
He made a little gasping sound when you bumped into him. This sweet breathless thing that made you grab your dick in your jeans and shift it from the press of your zip. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't see you," he said with his eyes glued below your belt. You were well endowed enough for most men to assume they'll rise to the challenge but ultimately opt out. Sam stuck his tongue out to wet his lips. You didn't think he would opt out.
It took two more semesters for you to fuck him. There was a chaste kiss once, behind the boiler room of your frat house. You weren't out to any of the guys, and you probably never would be. They we're fucking idiots but you weren't smart enough to get a degree without your football credits. Kissing Sam felt like forgetting all of that. He tasted like coffee bitters and pastry and when you bit into his bottom lip he made that sound for you again. You were probably going to spend the rest of your life chasing that sound, you thought.
"I'm not following you." That's what he said to you the next time you met. It was after a game, you had just come out of the pit and you wreaked of sweat and the grime you dragged off the field with you.
"Okay sweetheart."
He flushed from his toes to his cheeks when you said it. You knew it had to be tonight. You tossed him your keys, "wait for me in my car, I'm going to the showers."
-
When you got back to campus Sam lead you up to his dorm. There was this cloying tension even though neither of you had looked each other in the eye. Once you reached the room Sam slammed you against the door. It was a surprising show of strength from this bambi and you had to huff out a laugh.
"What?" He asked. He was nervous. He kept tucking the longest bit of his bangs behind is ear and shuffling from one foot to another. He wasn't sure he had made the right decision. You didn't let him stay unsure for long.
You didn't need to push, just stalk forward with Sam fumbling backwards till his legs hit the bed. You bent down and kept your lips just out of reach, hands on either side of the mattress. "Can I kiss you sweetheart?" Sam surged forward and locked his knobbly elbows around your neck, smashing his nose into yours. He tasted like he had put a flavored chap-stick on, and you wondered if it was for you. You licked past the cherry bomb blast flavor into his mouth, which was some how even sweeter. He whimpered when you flipped them, with his hips straddling your legs so you could grind up into him. You were so hard you thought you might break through the fabric.
It didn't take long for either of you to strip, you completely nude and Sam with his buttoned plaid shirt being the only thing protecting his modesty. When you moved to pull it off he shook his head. "Can I keep it on please," he had said, and looked oh-so-pitiful that you didn't have it in you to ask further. Instead you ducked under the shirt, letting it cover your head as you teased at his chest. He burst into a fit of giggles and something in your own chest loosened. "Sweet little Sam o' mine" you began to bellow and his giggles turned into a belly laugh, which then turned into a gasp as you teased his nipple with your teeth. "That feel good sweet-Sam?" you practically leered.
He clutched your head through the flimsy shirt, threading his fingers where he could find hair. You wrestled the both of you down so you could cage him in on the bed, smoothing your fingers up and down and into the crevice of his thigh. "How about this?" you sucked two fingers into your mouth and circled the cute puckered entrance, "this feel good baby?"
Sam clutched your shoulders, eyes big and pleading. "I have to tell you something."
Your eyes went wide. "Std?" He wouldn't be the first positive guy you slept with, you were just sure to wrap it up tighter than usual.
"What? No, not, that." He shook his head quickly. You had moved your hand from his hole to his inner thigh, stroking up and down in little swirls that spelt out S-A-M.
"The opposite actually. I haven't, well, I haven't done this before. Sorry. That was a stupid way of saying it."
It shouldn't have turned you on. God knows you shouldn't be straining in your pants at the thought of being Sammy's first. But oh my god I'm his first.
You grinned like a wolf, big and mean- hungry as you fucked two fingers in as far as they could go. You knew it was bad, that you should take it slow and virgin sweet but the way Sam's eyes rolled back into his head as he frantically looked for something to hold onto was too rewarding to stop.
"Oh god," Sam gripped the hair at the back of your neck roughly, undulating his hips on the crook of your fingers. "There! There!"
You lunged for his lips, sucking his tongue into your mouth. It didn't take long to stretch him out, and tomorrow you would feel bad about rushing it but tonight you were selfish enough to flip him over in your lap and smack his thigh hard enough to make him gasp. His legs bracketed your hips with his pretty face pressed into the sheets below you two. The bed was too small for two men, meaning you had to cradle his body as close to you and you could- chest to back, chin hooked over Sam's shoulder whispering filthy things into his ear.
It felt like you were melting when you pushed in. Sam's breath stopped and his knuckles turned white from where they gripped the sheets. Your head was tipped back when you whispered "you're good baby, breathe out" and he could barely whimper back at you. You pumped out a bit, flexing your hips back and forth. You pushed in between his shoulders, flattening his chest to the bed and arching his back further. "I said breathe."
He exhaled a puff of air and it relaxed him enough to push halfway in. His shoulders were shaking and his hair had fallen over his eyes. "Fuck Sam you feel like heaven baby. You think I can get all the way in?" You had your tongue between your teeth and you were teasing that spot you found with your fingers, grinding relentlessly. There was a bit of drool coming out of Sam's mouth from where it was pressed against the sheet, his eyes either squeezed shut or wide open and crossed when you hit that sweet spot head on.
It took you a bit to push in balls deep, but you would have waited years and climbed mountains to feel that tight heat squeezing you like a vice. Sam's hand shot back, wrapping around your wrist where it was clutching his hip. "Slow! Please." He sounded fucking wrecked. It was this pure moment of need clashing with a long earned lesson of delayed gratification. He was beautiful. So much of your sex life was defined by haste. An act of 'getting-it-over-with'. This wasn't that. You wouldn't let it be. You thrust into Sam slow and easy, every now and then snapping forward to watch his eyes roll back into his head because you aren't a Saint. You lost control for just a bit at the end, ramming into him faster than he could snap back, but he didn't seem to mind, lacing his fingers with yours even after he came and was twitching through the aftershocks.
You were lying next to him, trying to catch your breath when, with an unexpected show of strength, Sam pushed himself up onto your chest and straddled your hips, pressing his wet body back against yours.
"Woah there cowboy, you looking for another ride?" You grinned up at him, still out of breath as you gripped both his thighs that hugged your pelvis.
He grabbed your nose between two fingers and you snorted. "Corny." He said, and you laughed, because it was funny and you felt good. Loose. You knew it couldn't last, but as of now, the prettiest boy at Stanford was on top of you, smiling, and you planned to keep him there for as long as you could.
Dean x GN reader
Synopsis: You had followed Castiel from heaven, content with following him, but after saving Dean from hell, priorities start to shift
You had been a friend of Castiel, well, maybe 'friend' was putting it lightly; honestly, you idolized him. You followed him to Earth and joined him in helping the Winchester brothers.
You cleaned up their messes and were present when Dean was brought back from hell. This changed something between the two of you. Before this, you had always been civil with the Winchesters, maybe friends, but you had made it clear that you couldnt care less about them as people, and you were there only because of Cas.
After helping bring Dean back from hell, however, you were tender towards him. You didn't let him out of your sight. Sam would respond to this overprotectiveness mainly by rolling his eyes and ignoring it, knowing what the future would bring.
Castiel was cautious; not only did he know you and how you acted when you liked someone (I mean, you literally followed him out of heaven), but he also knew Dean and how he would react knowing that he had an angel wrapped around his finger.
Speaking of Dean, he's so smug. He knows that you have a soft spot for him and abuses it as much as possible. You're sitting, trying to do work, or help Sam? He's laughing in your lap, begging for you to teleport to the nearest gas station to get him pie. He got a cut while on a hunt? You're healing it without him even asking, with him smirking at Cas and Sam’s displeased expressions.
Eventually, however, his teasing started to get a little more intimate. Instead of just lounging on you while you were working to annoy you, he would actively seek out your touch. If you were standing in the bunker and you were in the way, instead of asking you to move, he would put his hands on your waist and move you himself.
You didn't mind one bit, and honestly, you enjoyed it. I mean, who's to say you weren't standing there just so that you could feel Dean's hands on you.
One day, however, he decided to take it further than ever, not that you minded.
You were sitting on the couch in the bunker, Dean was trying to get you to enjoy ‘TV’, he was having limited success as you didn't seem to understand the concept of actors and felt bad whenever something bad happened in the show.
You were trying to explain to Dean that he shouldn't laugh when someone on the show falls because they could get hurt, when suddenly you felt something warm on the underside of your jaw.
Oh oh OH. He was kissing you, placing kisses all over your jaw and neck with a smirk.
“You,” he starts pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “are so stupidly oblivious, it's almost cute. He finishes, sitting up to press a kiss on your lips.
He tastes sweet, like the pie that he made you go buy, but also bitter, like the beer that he was constantly drinking, and you…couldnt get enough. What your kisses lacked in experience, you made up for with passion.
He was straddling you with his hips resting against yours. It was intoxicating, the way that he managed to disarm you so easily, even though you were an angel and could kill him without straining a muscle.
You heard him make a pleased groan as his tongue explored your mouth; you could feel him rutting his hips against you, so, in an attempt to please him, you grabbed his hips. Gently rocking him against you with your hands, drawing out even more pleasured moans as the two of you kissed.
Eventually he pulled back, but only to continue the assault on your neck, you couldnt tell if he was kissing you, or trying to tear your throat out, you let out a strangled gasp as one of your hands flew from his hips to his hair grabbing a fistfull of his brown locks, pulling a moan from his throat.
Before you could go any further, you heard someone clearing their throat. You and Dean paused, turning slightly to see an irritated Sam and a disappointed Cas.
“I mean, we knew this was eventually going to happen, but come on, guys, can you get a room?” Sam exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean, however, looked delighted
“Sam, that is a great idea! Come on, babe, let's go to my room so we can continue where we left off.” Dean said with a smirk, standing up and dragging you with him.
He bumped Sam's shoulder as the two of you passed, and as Dean dragged you to his room, you could vaguely hear Castiel and Sam sighing and talking about how they’d “never sleep again,” whatever that meant.
Summary: You have been watching Castiel at your church for a while. At some point just watching him was not enough. You needed to touch him, to see if you could make him crumble.
AN: I just felt like we male readers needed a priest castiel fic. This took me way to long and may be mid as hell- but i hope at least one other person enjoys it.
“Bless me father for I have sinned.”
The tiny confessional box felt more like a prison cell in this moment. The dim lighting only intensified the thoughts ravaging your brain. Every thought rushing through all at once toppling everything in its path like a collapsing dam. You shifted, your legs crossing instinctively. The man seated on the other side of the wall took a deep breath. His shadowy silhouette against the light from the stained glass made him look even holier. Almost angelic.
“Tell me my child, and through me the lord shall forgive.” The deep hoarse voice drifted into the air.
“Well you see, father,” you swallowed, the room seeming to grow even hotter, “I have been plagued with sinful urges.” You glanced through the ornate mesh shield separating the two of you. His gaze was still ahead, unaware of the way your face was contorted with barely contained lust. Your hands gripping your pants, searching for anyway to ground yourself.
“Don’t be afraid. There is no judgment here.” Images of him during the sermons came into your mind. You thought about him helping set decorations up for services and holidays. Him watering the plants, sleeves rolled up half way up his forearm. The sweat beading off his forehead from the sun beating down on him.
“It’s about you. I’m ashamed, I know I should be, but I need you.” You looked down at your hands then back at him. Even in the dark you could see his jaw clench and him straighten up. His head went to look through the mesh but he caught himself.
“Tell me.” His throat went dry and it felt like every nerve was on fire. Suddenly the collar was too tight. The room was too small. You were too far. He wanted you to go on. And you could feel it. He tried not to notice you and the way he caught you looking at him. Telling himself that it was just the way you look at everyone and that it cant possibly mean anything else. And yet he knew, he knew what those looks were saying and ignored them for as long as he could. He had to push his own thoughts away. He knew better than to let those sit in his head. The tension in the small divided room settles in like an early morning fog, almost unbearable and just on the edge of suffocation. “Tell me- so God can forgive.”
The deep breath you take fills your lungs and when you exhale you practically melt into the wall. Legs uncrossed and relaxed, hands rubbing your thighs. “Well if you insist.” You feel a sudden confidence start to set in. You close your eyes, lost in the fantasy almost immediately.
“I have this recurring thought, you see. It's me- between your legs. Haven't you ever been tempted, father? To sin in such a manner I mean?” His pants grew a little tighter at the thought. He never thought he would ever entertain such an idea. But now that it was in his mind, he couldn't stop his mind from running. The feeling of your mouth over him, the heat and the moisture. He thought about the feeling of grabbing your hair and massaging your scalp. You looking up at him with those eyes. These images came in flashes almost like a vision and his breathing quickened. He hadn’t wanted that kind of a touch in so long, and now that it has been implanted in his mind it was growing at a rate he didn’t expect. Along with the want there was guilt. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Shouldn’t be crumbling this fast at a mere fantasy.
You could sense him trying to not get excited. You could only imagine what he was fantasizing about if it was making him breathe like that. Knowing that he was struggling you continued.
“Would you be a gentle lover? Or would all those years of pent up sexuality make it rough? Like you were punishing me for my life of sin.” You turn to look through the mesh again and see him making small glances at you. You could see his shoulders move like he was readjusting.
“If you really want to experience heaven on Earth tell me, father. I would be more than happy to take you there.”
“That is an unacceptable offer.” He almost seems to choke on the words. “The lord forgives you for these,” he pauses, causing the tension to grow, “impure urges. Bless you my child, you have been forgiven.” He seems to dash out of his side of the room. You followed him with your eyes though the mesh. You couldn’t help but feel powerful, making a holy man like that crumble so fast.
Castiel rushed to the front of the church, standing under the ornate stained glass of Jesus on the cross. The rest of the church was darkened, the light from the glass covered the room in a redish tint. It seemed to almost foreshadow what was going to happen. He looked up at the glass, gripping the table cloth in front of him and he did the only thing he thought to do. Pray. He prayed for these urges to pass. For strength to fight the devilish temptations just layed out in front of him. He knew how easy it would be for him to crumble if faced with you, he needed strength. He begged God to make him strong enough to withold.
After giving him a second to himself you stepped out as well. Shutting the door quietly behind you. As you walked down the rows of pews the sight in front of you only deepened your need for him. Castiel, back turned to you, was praying to God for strength while gripping the table cloth like it was going to run away.
You cleared your throat and he took notice of you. His back straightened and he stopped gripping the table cloth and laid his hands flat on it, emulating control. He turned his head looking at you over his shoulder.
“Yes? What else can I help you with?” He kept his back to you trying to conceal his ‘problem’. You approached him, stopping only a couple steps away from him.
“What’s wrong, Father? You seem burdened.” You took one more step closer and you could feel him tensing up. “Is it something I said?” You feigned innocence, reaching out to place a hand on his back. Before you could make contact he turned around to face you. The eye contact was intense. His eyes contained so much emotion that it practically froze you into place. He grabbed your wrist and lowered your arm gently. You glanced down and then quickly back up. “It seems you do have a,” you smirked, “problem.”
“This is inappropriate.” He tried to back up but he was already fully against the table. “I am a man of God.”
“Even a man of God has needs, Father.” The allure in your voice called out to him. Everything in this moment made him feel incredibly human. “Would you allow me the pleasure of giving you such a release?”
This time it was him who moved. He was losing an internal battle and you could see it in the way he moved. Stiff and calculated. And yet you were so close your chests were almost touching, his hot breath could be felt against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut and a trembling hand cupped your face. His thumb traced your cheek gently, like you could break at any moment. Butterflies flitted around your stomach as the man who you yearned for was holding you like the most precious thing in the world.
Your eyes open to meet his. “I’m considering disobedience.” His eyes dropped to your lips. His tongue wet his own lips and left them slightly agape. His breathing quickened and his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head. “May God forgive me.” He sighed and leaned in.
The kiss was gentle, your lips barely touching at first. The hand behind your head pulled you closer. After a second he pulled away. Guilt spread across his face, his eyes searching yours for comfort. “I’m sorry.” He apologized softly, trying not to scare you away and his hands went back to his sides.
You looked back into his eyes just as feverishly as he was. “Dont.” Your voice was hoarse with desire and longing. You gently pressed your hips into his. “Just,” You cupped his face with both hands, “don’t.” There was a shift in his eyes as you gave him permission. No more guilt, no more conflict. Just want.
The redness of the room was almost enough to cover the blush cascading across his cheeks and ears. There was one thing the lighting couldn't hide and that was the problem growing in his pants only being contained by the black slacks he wore. His hands gripped your hips so hard the skin turned white under your pants and he tried to pull you as close as he could. The added friction led to a shaky breath escaping his lips. He willed his hips not to move, to not be so needy at some light pressure.
This time when he kissed you there was passion and hunger behind it. Like you were his first meal in days. One of your arms went to wrap around his neck, locking him in. Your hips rocked against his as a hand comes to grope your ass. Your free hand went to fumble with his belt. Impatience took over and his hands left your body, earning an annoyed groan from you, he undid his belt and slide it out of the belt loops. It hit the table with a soft clang as it fell to the floor forgotten. The kiss broke so you both could breath and he went to unbutton his pants. Frantically pulling the zipper down and only stopping to look in your eyes again. He swallowed hard.
“Please.”
That was all it took for you to sink to your knees, never breaking eye contact. You clasped your hands on his thighs. How could you deny him? Especially since he asked so politely.
His eyes went dark as he watched as you nuzzled against his leg, still looking up at him. A hand came up to palm his cock over the unzipped fabric. A harsh breath left his lips and a grin plastered itself on your face. Your name escaped his lips like a warning, urging you to go on- to finish what you had started. A hesitant hand came down to grab yours and lead it to the top of his boxers. His eyes asked for persmission while his lips were pressed into a fine line, trying to keep any sounds in.
It was cute how restrained he seemed and how he second guesses every action even though he desperately needs it. The desperation practically radiated off of him. You slowly slid your hands under the waistband in into his boxers tantalizingly slow. Your fingers wrapped around him at the same pace earning a jolt of his hips at the feeling. His hands went back to grip the edge of the table hoping to remain with some sort of control.
Deciding not to let him sit in limbo for too long, you pull his cock out of his boxers and give it a few light pumps. A low rumble started in his chest as his eyes flutter shut. You place light kisses starting at the base and working up to the tip. You let his cock rest against your cheek as you cupped his balls. There was a heat pooling in you, watching him come undone was doing something wicked to you.
“Does it feel good? Are you sure you want this?” His eyes opened and his hands comes to push a strand of hair out of your face and lingering there for a second.
“You are beautiful down there.” The compliment stirred something in you almost making you crazy. You needed him. Before you could get lost in fantasy his thumb and pointer finger when to grip your chin. “Now open up for me and be a good boy. Please.”
Your mouth opened almost on instict like your brain had turned off. You needed to be of service to him- to make him feel good. To make him feel a fraction of the pleasure that he gives you when you think of him at night. His hand leaves your face and he guides his cock to rest on your tongue. As soon as it made contact you wrapped your lips around the tip and licked it gently. He tried to contain himself, hand tangling in your hair pulling you close to him.
You began moving at a slow pace before speeding up; enjoy the low sounds you are managing to pull out of him. Your hands grip his thighs and he starts to rock his hips to meet you. You look up at him and moan around him. The light bouncing off of the sweat on his jaw, his head thrown back in pleasure, his chest heaving letting out a groans and whimpers. You could tell he wanted more to take control and you wondered how long it would take for him to give up this act of holyness and let himself be a man again.
Your questioned was answered sooner rather than later as the hand in your hair gripped your hair tight not letting you move. He was now gazing down at you with your mouth full of his cock and began thrusting at his own pace, simply using your mouth to get off. You relaxed your jaw and let him have his way with you. Tears streamed down your face as he shoved into you forcfully.
“I’m sorry.” He panted out as the wet sounds of you gagging on his cock filled the empty church. “It just feels so good. Too good.” His moans began to get louder as he neared the edge of release. Words of praise tumbled out of his mouth as he was lost in you.
You couldn’t resist the pleasure anymore, not when he sounds so pathetic. One of your hands left his thighs and went into your pants. You were so wet already from just giving him head. You began to rub fast circles around your clit causing you to moan around him. The pleasure from both the stimulation and from making Castiel unravel made your body feel like it was on fire.
“Oh my,” His hips stuttered in their pace as he noticed you touching yourself. “You feel so good. I bet you taste divine as well.” More compliments poured out of him as his paced became more frantic as he got closer and closer. Feeling how close he was to cuming made the pool of heat grow in your stomach.
“I’m gonna-,” before he could finish the sentence a warm sensation hit the back of your throat. A whimper left his mouth as he continued to lazely thrust into your mouth riding out his orgasm. The feeling of him fucking his cum down your throat sent you over the edge. Warmth spread through your body as a moan ripped itself from your chest. The light cascaded over both of you riding out your orgasm together.
He pulled out of your mouth and slowly started to situate himself again, making sure his pants were zipped and his shirt was tucked in properly. you're head and body felt fuzzy, you almost couldn't believe that this actually happened. Strong hands gripped your forearms and helped you up from the ground.
"Well Father," you leaned in, "did you see heaven?" A smile spread across your face teasingly.
Still struggling to catch his breath he managed to get a chuckle out. He reached forward and gently wiped some of his cum off of the side of your mouth with his thumb. He leaned his forhead against yours for a seconds. His breath slowly going back to normal as he came down fully from the high. He pulled away and placed a soft kiss on your forhead first then on the bridge of your nose gently. It was like he was scared you were going to disappear.
"Thank you." A soft smile formed on his lips. He smoothed out your hair, hoping to remove as much evidence as possible. He looked you over one last time opening his mouth like he wanted to say something and started to walk away. Your arms crossed as you watched him walk away. His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder getting on last look at you.
i guess i never talked properly about what Kimi to Uchuu wo Aruku Tame ni (I Want To Walk In Space With You) is actually about because i kind of was hoping other people could have the experience i had reading it ("okay this manga is really new i'll check it out -> ow ow oof ow"), but i guess if i want people to get interested i need to give them something lol. still, i think the comic speaks for itself better than i ever could, so here are some pages from the first chapter that really resonated with me
tldr; not only is "Terrorism" a harder charge to "prove" in NY compared to "murder", this charge would make it easier to present the elements that made Luigi a folk hero to the jury.
In the aftermath of the Munson shooting, Mike struggles to recover both physically and mentally.
It had been a nightmare .
Mike had known that right from the very second, the door to Munson’s house had swung shut behind him. The details never changed, he re-lived his brush with death nightly. He felt the searing agony explode in his gut, the taste of gunpowder in his , the scent of copper in his nostrils…
CNN kept being like "this COLD BLOODED MURDER of CEO blah blah blah" like look at me with a straight face and tell me the CEO of an american health insurance company is not a mass murderer. The amount of blood that drenched this man's hands could drown us all in a red ocean of human suffering, idgaf
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