grounding techniques, ok 5 things i can see. I see bricks, I see mortar, I see a trowel, I see a cask of wine, I see that asshole Montresor glaring at me over the top of the wall…
sorry to be a broken record every month but christ menstruation is a stupid concept. oooooh excuse me for not getting pregnant, why the fuck is there goo falling out of me about it? grow the fuck up and reabsorb that shit for nutrients.
Okay, this just popped in my head but imagine fucking Dean dumb/stupid. He’s blabbering nonsense, trying to move himself someway to feel more of you (yk yk?), and begging for more. Like he’d been pent up, has been a lil angry the past week, and just needs to get fucked good. Do we catch my drift? 😋 lmk if you need me to go more in depth
SYPNOSIS: fucking dean dumb after he had a long week . . .
CHARACTER: male reader x dean winchester
NOTE: HELL FUCKING YEAH. i love this one.
p.s. requests are always open!!
WC: 1.8k
WARNING: praise,, light mean!reader,, multiple creampies,, very light dub-con (?),, big dick!reader,, slow sex to rough sex,, light overstimulation,,
a very light groan leaves dean's lips as you press your tip to his hole. he’s angry. you can tell. “don’t— fuckin’ play w’me.” he slurred out, voice tight. “not your day?” you mused, continuing to tease him, just prodding at his entrance with the head of your cock. “not my week.” he managed through gritted teeth, his voice small. “if you don’t do something right fucking now i swear to god, i will—” ah. there, you cut him off just in time. no threats needed. dean exhaled shakily, his eyes screwing shut, his upper lip twitching with annoyance. your hand around his weeping cock did provide some relief, but it wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the entire week he spent grumpy and pent up. you leaned forward, your lips against his scruffy jaw. “that bad, huh?” you murmured softly, fingers wrapped lightly around his length, moving in slow, purposeful strokes. with your other hand, you guided yourself in, pushing just an inch of your cock.
dean made a strangled sound and your digits flexed around him. he looked so perfect like this; needy, impatient, breathless. he muttered your name in a warning, trying to slide his hips down the bed to take more of you; he fucking needed it. as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw and pulled your hips back, not letting him get more of you in, a groan was pulled out of his throat. dean's hands shot up to grasp at your arms, fingertips digging into your flesh. “you son of a bitch— jus’—” he gritted out. “ah ah, you’ve been a bastard this week, you deserve this.” your hand let go of his cock and trailed up his abdomen to his chest. his muscles tensed underneath your touch and his head lolled back, pressing into the pillow. just as he was about to respond, you cut in. “don’t fight me on this.”
he sighed pathetically, his legs spreading wider in anticipation. “i’ll fuck you dumb, my sweet boy. fuck you so good you’ll forget everything.” your voice was just slightly muffled by his skin. he leaned into your touch, rolling his hips in another attempt. this time, you didn’t pull away. you pushed it all in, all the way to the hilt. with a deep groan his chest arched up to the ceiling, his fingers trembling against your biceps. “fuck.. yeah..” dean rasped out, his facial expression contorting back to his neutral one, body relaxing as you buried yourself deep inside him. “atta boy, so good f’me.. takin’ all o’me..” you crooned as you set the pace to a slow, steady rhythm.
a ragged gasp left dean's lips the more you thrusts quickened. “ahhuh— yea.. shit..” continuing to press hot, open mouthed, wet kisses across his jaw, both of your hands gripped his hips. he responded with a low, barely audible yet controlled hum. with your fingers pressing into his flesh, you drove into him slowly, dragging your thrusts — each one designed to make him feel every inch. dean's breath caught in his throat, his walls squeezing around you; which was followed by a raw, desperate moan. “there you go, sweetheart.. so perfect,” the weak growl that he let out melted into a gasp as you shifted the angle, hitting his prostate. his legs jolted, almost trying to close, as if on instinct. you didn’t even appreciate the idea of him shutting you out. you adjusted the position, his calves resting on your shoulders now. dean's hands dropped back to the bed, grasping at the fabric of the sheets. due to him being so compliant, you rewarded him with a particularly deep thrust, wrapping your arms around his thighs. “mhh— there, yea, yea there— right there..” he got out, voice a broken whine.
keeping the depth the same, relishing in the way his hole was so tight around your thick cock, you picked up the pace. “knew you’d get needy. knew you’d come undone the second i started fuckin’ you.” you muttered mindlessly, your back straight, head between his calves. dean turned his head to the side, bringing up an arm to sling over his mouth. you were relentless now, hips slapping against his ass, that slick sound filling the room right alongside the wet drag of your kisses along the side of his calf — you needed his voice filling your ears; it was like a melody. always. “c’mon, pretty,” you rasped, biting gently at the skin. “let me hear how good it is.” dean groaned, the sound loud and wrecked. his hips started meeting your thrusts with stuttering attempts of his own. his voice cracked on your name again, lips parting like he was trying to say something and forgetting halfway through. pushing his legs off of your shoulders, your hands grabbed his thighs, pulling him up, making his lower half slide up your own thighs just so he could take you balls deep. his mouth hung open in a soundless gasp, back arching and legs wrapping around your waist, heels pressing to your lower back. his body twitched as if he was shocked when you pounded into him with deep, ruthless thrusts.
incoherent babbles left dean's mouth, his voice hoarse. this wasn’t right. this is, what? the fourth, maybe fifth round? he’s leaking; both from his already spent cock and from your cum dripping out of his hole. you were still fucking into him, your cum making the back of his thighs sticky. dean was shaking everywhere. his hands were hurting from how much he tried to grasp at everything to keep himself grounded, the muscles in his legs and stomach ached due to your brutal pace; it was the most intense workout ever. poor guy’s whole body jerked beneath you with each thrust, thighs shaking from the effort of holding himself open, of taking it again and again. “c— ca— ah- mh- mh, mh- pleasuh..!—” he whined out, whisper yelling the.. ‘sentence’. you let out a soft scoff, feeling breathless. you were fucking dean non-stop, so it was reasonable. “take it sweetheart, take it like the good boy that you are.” the tears filling his waterline were making his eyes hurt. he shook his head weakly, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. “c-can’t.. swear— i can’t- too— toomuchhh—” he slurred out, voice so hopeless, like he was begging.
you didn’t let up.
“keep whining, baby. so pretty like this, you’re— so gorgeous, takin’ my cock like this..” you praised him softly, pressing kisses to his sweat-slick chest. dean's aching arms wrapped around your neck desperately, managing to bury his face in your shoulder. “mhh-hmmm—shit, shit—wha’, I— fuck- fuck... mhmgh—” he was mumbling into your skin, voice cracking, his lips brushing against you without any direction. just noise. he was even drooling. his hands fumbled at your back, fingertips twitching like they couldn’t figure out whether to pull you closer or push you away. “too much, it’s—nngh, no, no, ghhh—” dean's voice was shaking, the pitch warbling between moan and sob, words spilling out so fast they bled into each other. he kept letting out the most filthiest sounds known to humankind in your ear; groans, sobs, moans, whines, whimpers, grunts, gasps — everything.
his body was overstimulated, every nerve raw, extremely sensitive. he was crying into your shoulder, still clenching around you so tightly. his voice was just pure noise now — no filter, no shame, just wrecked, broken, high pitched syllables falling from his spit-slick lips. dean's jaw moved like he was trying to form words, but his brain had checked out long ago, left somewhere back at the first deep thrust that pushed him over the edge. “unnhh—ahh, fuuh—’s too… it’s too, too much, i—i can’t, i can’t, i am, i’m—” he gasped out. you almost started feeling bad for the guy you were currently pounding the shit out of, but.. his hips rolled helplessly, chasing more, chasing you. yeah, no way you’re gonna stop soon.
dean keened softly when your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to ground him. “lo— luv- you.. ah- love you— i love you- i love you—” he babbled, his voice reaching a pitch you didn’t even know was possible for him. you couldn’t even get your own sentence out, groan after groan pulling itself out of your throat. though you didn’t really need to respond, he was rambling, so much so that you were certain he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. “ahhh, yes, yeah yeah ye— ah- ah— ohgodohfuck— fuckin’fuckfuck—” he kept whining, slobbering all over your shoulder. “fff—ngghhnnn, i- s- see— seriou—ah- can’t—” he sobbed the last word out, trembling and shaking his head against your shoulder. his abdomen was tensed and he just- needed to get away from the feeling, even if just for a moment. he tried moving his hips away, keyword; tried. you didn’t let him. “keep— keep takin’ my cock, dean. you’re- not going anywhere.” you whispered against the shell of his ear. “you’re alright, you’re okay.” you mumbled, and dean.. well.. he continued sobbing, his thighs clamping around your waist even tighter. god those perfect thighs. you’d kill for them. “not— not ‘lright..” he whimpered out, almost frustrated. his fingers curled into your skin, weak and twitchy, trying to anchor himself somehow. but you weren’t letting him go. not yet. “shhh.. shh baby,” you spoke in his ear, the harder thrusts you were giving him were not helping. at all. “jus’— wanna fuck you good, like i promised. i jus’ wanna keep my promise, sweetheart.” you reasoned gently. you could feel him trembling against you — still clinging, still whispering and groaning nonsense against your neck.
dean's body, his voice, his mind; it was just a mess of aftershocks and need, soft and quiet and so far from the snarling, grumpy dean that had shoved you into this night to begin with. now he was curled up to you so close, cheek pressed to your shoulder, breath hitching every few seconds. “m’so deep inside you, baby.. ya feel me- right? feel me right,” you paused, moving a hand to his lower abdomen. “here?” dean was utterly and completely broken. not a single coherent word from him, just countless slurred syllables, moans, whines, everything in between. he felt so full and so spent, his body aching everywhere. and here you were, still holding the man in your lap, bouncing him on your cock like it’s your first round. dean was slick in every fucking liquid possible; pre-cum, cum, sweat, tears, drool, god he was an absolute mess.
the moment you came inside dean, yet again, his entire body was spasming against you as you did your best to keep him grounded. he barely even had his voice as he moaned loudly, his own cock twitching uselessly against your stomachs, pressed between you two. he couldn’t even cum properly anymore. when he pulled away from your shoulder, you cupped his face with a singular hand. “there he is,” you murmured, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “my good boy.”
SYNOPSIS: fucking sammy while he’s trying to read you the notes he wrote so you could catch up on the lore.
CHARACTER: male reader x sam winchester
NOTE: @mysterymachine67 you’re amazing. THANK YOU FOR THE IDEA. you’re my lil meow meow now.
WC: 0,7k
WARNING: idek, tbh, it’s nothing extreme.
sam’s fingers clenched around his notebook, the leather creaking under the weight of the force. he felt like it was the only thing grounding him. his knuckles were white, the page beneath his thumbs wrinkled a bit. poor guy didn’t even notice. he was standing there, hands on the table. sam was panting softly, his eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to concentrate on speaking. not that he could, really; your languid, deep thrusts into him weren’t a help at all. your hands on his waist, chest pressed to his back. he was tense, rigid even, but he made no attempt to move. he just shifted on the balls of his feet, bending over a tad. so compliant.
“sam?” you muttered, your breath ghosting the shell of his ear. “y-yes?” he answered after a short pause, voice tight. “you were saying something about balance?” sam’s breath stuttered and his head dipped forward. “..right. right, uh.” he blinked profusely, trying to gather his thoughts. your thumbs were pressing against the small of his back. he didn’t have to do anything besides take you. fuck, he needed to focus. “the— the balance in the glyphs. it- uh, it matters. has to be perfect or— or.. or the protection breaks.” he barely even managed to get that one out. you could hear how hard he tried to keep his voice level, to stay scholarly. professional. but he was unraveling too fast. the slow thrusts, the way you were stretching him out, the way your cock head prodded at his prostate just slightly — it was making his knees weak and hands clench. his breathy stammering was making you twitch inside him; he was so fucking hot.
“i need you to focus, sam. don’t want to get myself killed. continue reading, baby.” you urged him softly. he tensed even more, if that was possible. “i—” he started but cut himself off with a small gasp. shit. he squirmed a bit, pushing his hips back to meet yours. he wanted more but he had to help you catch up. “besides the— the glyphs, i did more research about.. mghh... about demons.” sam’s voice was cracking, heightening in pitch ever so often. “yea? lemme hear it.” you coaxed, giving a deeper, harsher thrust. it made sam stumble forward a very small bit, his thighs tensing. he groaned at the action, propping himself on the table by his forearms instead. “d—dah- ah—” he mewled out, hands clenching to fists as he scrunched his face up. you picked up the pace out of nowhere. the force of your thrusts got brutal. “de—demon.. hie-ie..ah, ah shit.. shit..” he kept his voice a whisper, his tone making it sound like a desperate plea. “nuh-uh, sam. finish the sentence. i want to know.” you breathed out, pressing an opened mouth kiss to the nape of his neck. sam made a sound that was not understandable; somewhere between a pathetic moan and a grunt. “goddamn it.. i- swear..” he mumbled to himself, his knees buckling, though it was barely noticeable. “demon hierarchies.” sam got out quickly, his voice strained and breathless. “i found this— uh.. ffffuck.. this reference— to- to crossroad deals— and how they—!” he paused, head falling forward and making contact with the table, eliciting a small bang noise. he mewled helplessly, arching his back to feel more comfortable as he pushed his ass back. he just needed your cock right now. “sam.” you said firmly, sounding a bit disappointed. “sss-sorry, shit.. i jus’— i can’t— not- not right now. nghhhgg..” he got out, voice all broken and pathetic. “you’re not— not even.. listening.”
“damn it, sam. i was, you know?” you mumbled against the nape of his neck, your nose buried in his hair as you pounded into him, fucking him senseless. “listening to those pretty sounds.. so gorgeous, sam. so fucking gorgeous.” he whined in response, a very moderate grumble leaving his parted lips. it’s not that he didn’t appreciate the praise, he was more focused on the fact that you weren’t listening to a thing he was saying. you don’t even skim half the lore, you just jump right into it and sam constantly worries for your well-being. your arms moved up front, encircling his torso. hands planted firmly against his pecs, pressing your face into the back of his shoulder. sam shifted, haphazardly shoving his journal away with one hand, letting out short puffs of breath against the wooden surface. “i’ll catch up later. i swear, baby.” you muttered into the fabric of his shirt and he squared his shoulders a bit, legs shaking already. “you better..” he breathed out, voice trembling and quiet.
secret regressor dennis who panics when robby says there are "no babies" allowed in his house, but says yes to watching it anyway. he just vows to never regress for the three months, so that he doesn't break da- *robby's* rules, because he's a good boy.
it works fine for the first couple of weeks, but dennis can feel himself needing to slip down and relax and rest... one day he finally drops out of sheer necessity, falling hard and deep.
in a young, young headspace, he bursts into tears, all he can think about is that he's broken the rules, he's broken the trust of the man his body wants to accept as his daddy despite the feeling of rejection, because now there's a *baby* in the house.
he ends up fumbling with his phone and wailing as he tries to call robby's number- better to let him know now, and hope for forgiveness, than to hide the transgression. that would make him very bad indeed.
when robby picks up the phone, somewhere eight hours from pittsburgh, all he can hear is a horrifyingly familiar voice sobbing his heart out from the other end of the phone. it's dennis, sweet dennis, bawling and crying in a shockingly young way, babbling incoherently about how he'd "tried not to, pr'mise da- robby, sorry for letting baby in, sorry, sorry..."
robby wasn't an idiot, he knew what this was, and his heart sunk to his stomach. there was no banned baby there, the only baby in the house was dennis, who by the sounds of things, needed a daddy asap.
robby makes the journey home in six hours. the house rules are changed- *one* baby is allowed in robby's house. his name is dennis, or, more frequently, denny. and now he has a daddy.
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