but in these motel rooms, i started to see you differently
sam winchester x fem!reader
summary ↬ you and sam haven't gotten along since he left you for college four years ago, but after a thunderstorm leaves both of you stuck in a cramped motel room, you're forced to confront the feelings you've buried deep down
notice ↬ moderate angst, some fluff and jokes, teasing (in like an enemies to lovers way) lyrics once again inspired by my muse ethel cain (from the song thoroughfare pls listen i beg), pining, soft feelssss, sam YEARNS, and i finally post whoop whoop !, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !
wordcount ↬ 2.2k
it started with wind. thick, looming gusts of air arising goosebumps on your skin. then, the sky began to dim into a smokey grey, with overcast clouds fighting for space amongst the large expanse of impending darkness. then, the rain came. soft at first, and gentle against the impala’s roof as you pulled into the motel driveway. but when you got inside, it palpitated against the loud shingles, fell like hail as it slammed onto the singular window, hidden by musty, beige curtains.
dean had run out before the parking lot started flooding, “i’ll get us some grub to tie us over till mornin’” he’d said, hurriedly throwing on the hoodie that he wears so little. but, you’re sure that, once you see the waterline reach higher than safe, it’s going to be a while before he returns. which leaves the interior thunderstorm of you and sam’s relationship to pass through the small motel room.
“do you have to type so loudly?” you huff, throwing yourself onto the oddly comfortable mattress sheathed in an outdated duvet much older than yourself.
sam snickers under his breath from his seat at the table, clacking away at his laptop, “surprised you can hear so well with all that rain.”
“it’s hard to tune out,” you narrow your eyes, but when he doesn’t fall for your provocation, you refocus yourself on john’s journal that rests heavily on your lap.
things haven’t been the same since sam left for college; since he’d abandoned dean and you, leaving with nothing but a single word and your young heart ripped from your chest. it wasn’t like you were together, but, the looks that never meant nothing and the kisses that weren’t yours to take tainted your words towards him ever since he came back.
just looking at him made you furious. he’d taken so much and did nothing with it.
“i think we’re dealing with a poltergeist,” sam says cooly, like he knows everything.
you roll your eyes, “stanford educated and you think it’s a poltergeist?”
he keeps his eyes trained on his screen, “you’ve hunted for four years more than me and you don’t think it’s a poltergeist?”
“never said i didn’t.”
“yeah, well, we never know with you do we?”
you go silent long enough for sam to look up, to show an ounce of care to check if he’d gone too far. his eyebrows crease at your face; stonecold and hurt, and you almost think he’s about to apologize until you break out into a shit-eating grin to throw the decorative bed pillow at his head, “asshole.”
sam’s quick reflex catches the pillow, and you try your hardest not to linger on the way his veins pop in his arm as his hands grip the fabric. he clenches his jaw and breathes heavily through his nose, “you’re childish, y’know that?”
“what else am i supposed to do cooped up here with you?” you whine, tossing john’s journal on the nightstand beside you, “pretend i’m over the moon?”
“you really hate me that much, huh?” he smirks. that fucking smirk that knocks the wind out of you. his eyes burn holes into your figure on the bed.
the longer you stare at him, the louder the storm gets, like mother nature is trying to sync with your rapid heart beating anxiously against your ribcage, like the rain hammering against the thin walls. “yeah, i do.” you say, but it’s more of a murmur. a reassurance to yourself.
there’s no bite to your voice. no teasing hatred. and sam notices.
“well, dean should be back soon,” he mumbles, turning back to his research.
for the next hour, it’s uncomfortably quiet. the ac hums amongst the worsening rain, stampeded by the occasional boom of thunder that shakes the table lamps and flickers the gross yellow ceiling lights.
lightening glows against the motel curtains, and as you try not to feel worried about dean, another rock of thunder startles you into worry.
“you think he’s alright out there?” you ask, staring at the window as if it will bring the roar of the impala and his loud footsteps back.
sam nods, not bothering to give you a glance, “he’s probably hunkered in some bar having the time of his life.”
your eyebrows furrow at him, scoffing, “glad to know you care.”
a beat, then he sighs, pushing his chair away from his laptop to face you, “it isn’t like he’s out there, no impala, no food, no girls.”
like a flash, you’re at bobby’s. seventeen, trying to understand how sam is explaining his decision to leave.
“dean will be fine, he has dad, he has the hunt, this is him,”
except you heard the bottles shatter against motel walls. felt the fogging lack of his company inside the car. saw the empty seat in the diner booth.
“you’re ridiculous,” you quip, because it’s easier than chewing him out. he laughs out loud.
“i’m realistic,” he corrects, and the urge to slap him—no, kiss him—no, definitely slap him, is involuntary. suddenly, he stands, fixing the hem of the purple dog shirt you love on him, lifting just slightly to tease the v-line you don’t remember being so prominent four years ago. “i’m gonna shower before he gets back.”
the image of him—wet rivulets running down his stomach, hair damp and plastered to his face—is hard to shake. “thanks for asking if i wanted it first.”
he huffs a chuckle, shaking his head while he grabs a pair of fresh clothes from his bag, “wouldn’t have let you go even if i had asked.”
the bathroom door shuts behind him, and almost immediately, you can distinguish the rain from the downfall of shower water beginning to seep steam through the crack in the doorway.
you flop onto the bed, shutting your eyes softly as an exhale of relief crashes through you. the suffocation of your feelings finally starts to fade with him not being in the room, until—
a sudden, electrical sounding buzz rings throughout the room, and when your eyes snap open, it’s still dark as if you hadn’t opened them.
the frightening flash of lightning shines a blessing of light that lasts a few seconds, and that’s all the time you need to realize the power has gone out.
before you can blink, you’re up and knocking on the bathroom door, “sam?”
no response.
you press your forehead against the wood, willing yourself the strength to go in there. the shower has a curtain, you try to remind yourself, it isn’t like you’re gonna see—
the door swings open, revealing sam, a green towel wrapped messily around his waist, hair dripping wet, water running down the slope of his nose. he smells fresh like generic soap and musk, paralyzing you before your eyes can even travel to the exposed skin of his stomach.
“what happ— the power’s out?” he cuts himself off when he notices the lack of light.
“just turned off,” you inform, breathless. “i just wanted to ask where the candles are.” not because my first instinct was to run to you.
he stutters, “u-um, in my duffle bag.”
you spin on your heel, just about ready to dart anywhere that you can no longer smell the pheromones seeping from his body, but a large, calloused hand comes to grab your arm, keeping you planted.
“are you okay?” sam asks, still with his hand on you.
you want to shrug out of his grip, but the way his eyes are looking so intently into yours, it’s hard to want him letting go.
“i—yeah, why?” you tilt your head in confusion, but the shimmer in your pupils says your mind is somewhere else.
“you just look restless,” he studies your face, “you aren’t actually scared of the dark, are you?”
that makes you gently wrestle out of his hold, snapped out of the trance he’s unknowingly put you in, “no, asshole, i just wanted to know where—”
“and if you really are that worried about dean, i’m not sure if we’ll get service, but, i can call him—”
“no, i’m not, i’m fine, dean’s fine.” your voice is impatient—rushed—which bewilders him further.
you aren’t sure if it’s the lack of light, or the soap-y smell radiating off him that’s been getting stronger, but you’re certain he’s inching closer, like the gap between you that’s been growing for four years is suddenly stitching back together with each unsure, shaky breath.
the soft, almost featherlight touch of his fingertips pressing into your forearms confirms this is real, even if it’s the darkness that’s causing a surge of confidence and brain fog you’re sure both of you will regret later.
your name falls from his tongue like he’s willing you to come back to him. but you aren’t the one that left.
“we should light those candles,” you choke out, but now you can feel his nose brushing yours.
he nods, unbelieving, “we should.”
“and—maybe we should call dean.”
“hmhm,”
“and—” right before his hesitant lips press to yours, you break, “god, sam what are you doing?”
he pulls back just slightly, like the spell had broken. you’re so close that you can see his eyes, darting back and forth between yours while he searches for the answer to your question.
“i just…” his voice trails, quiet, needy, “we haven’t been alone until now and—i don’t know, i just—” he looks down at his feet shamefully, “i remember, y’know?”
your throat unwillingly constricts, and you fight every tear duct in your eyes not to shed weakness. “i never forgot, sam.”
his forehead falls against yours, breathing in deeply to compose himself, hands moving from your forearms up to your cheeks.
another boom of thunder, followed by a flash bathes the room in white.
“god, i missed you,” he whispers like it pains him to say out loud, “i’m sorry i haven’t said it till now. i’m sorry i’ve been such an asshole.”
you chuckle in relief, sniffling back emotion “no, i’ve been, too.”
“can’t even let me have the title of biggest asshole, can you?” he teases.
“watch it,” you warn, lightly slapping his cheek playfully. “i’m still mad at you.”
it takes a few shaky breaths before either of you decide to utter another word in fear of shattering the consolidation between you.
“i thought about you every day,” he tests the waters of mentioning his absence, swallowing harshly, “i know we both pushed each other away and i know i don’t have the right—”
you shush him gently, revelling in his body heat warming yours, even as his feet soak the carpet beneath you, and the shower water dries in the divots of his muscles just starting to tease their way to the surface. “let’s just have this. let me realize i never truly lost you.”
the soft kiss he presses delicately to your lips in response is like a whisper of reverence, of something so holy to him, it feels unreal that it’s his.
his mouth is warm, nostalgic, and brings a fire to your stomach you hadn’t felt since the last time you’d kissed him. he’s careful not to push too hard, and you can feel the restraint as he fights to go deeper in your mouth, to make you feel how much he’d missed you. how much he doesn’t hate you.
suddenly, another buzz sounds, but this time, a yellow glow shines against your closed eyelids. you and sam break apart, and the newfound ability to see makes you realize just how close you actually are, while he’s shirtless and dripping.
then, with perfect comedic timing, the front door busts open, and in walks dean, a bunch of takeout bags in his hands from the burger joint you remember passing on the way, also dripping wet, but from the rain as it continues to slam against the concrete. “god dammit, it’s like a damn hurricane out—”
his hoodie is soaked, hair a mess, and his jaw? wide open at the sight before him.
“am i interrupting something?” he starts after a beat, eyes darting fast between sam’s half naked body and your flustered expression.
“u-uh…” you look at sam, whose face is bright pink, trying to come up with some kind of explanation before dean’s shock wears off and he starts hammering it on the both of you. “the lights went out and i needed to ask him for candles.”
dean looks at the buzzing ceiling light, then back to you, “lights seem on to me.”
sam sighs in defeat, running a stressed hand through his stringy bangs. “i’m gonna get dressed,” he announces, but not before meeting your eyes, telling you everything he can’t say in a single look before taking shelter behind the bathroom door.
when he’s gone, you and dean have a staring contest across the room.
“i thought you both hate each other,” he states.
you purse your lips and can’t help the smile that fights its way to your face, “yeah.”
dean shakes his head, exasperated and desperate to get out of his soaked clothes and into the burger you know he’s lathered in ketchup. “kids.” he mutters to himself.
you bite the inside of your cheek, the feeling of free-falling taking over your stomach when you catch the lingering scent of sam’s musk around you.
the rain still pounds, the lightning still strikes, the thunder still hammers. but now, your heart beats softer.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ tags (tagging my mooties & blogs on my taglist for this post, but lmk if you wanna be added to my future posts! :)) ↬ @rafeskitty , @sacr1ficialang3l @s4wdvator @vmiina @ohangeleyes @wvyik @sploosh805 @bourbonbiscuit @sequoia-roots @hopperbopper
݂ ͘ ౨ৎ sam winchester / cutesy! reader (gender, race, & size not specified, reader loves pink, collects stuffed animals, wears short shorts, skirts, tube tops, etc), fluff and smut.. .ᐟ ⟢ ۫
❀ song recs: bambaleo - red velvet, miniskirt - aoa, airplane mode, Limbo, shadow, f(x) .
❀ sam loves to watch you get ready for the day, his hair disheveled and his bare, tanned skin contrasting from the frilly plush of your duvet cover. he barely fits in your bed, but he manages to make it work. propped up against the palm of his hand, his large biceps practically crush the pillow underneath him as he takes in the sight of you changing into one of those ridiculously cute outfits he adores.
❀ he makes sure that you know that you can wear whatever you want. not once has he ever made you feel as if you should change or cover up. in fact, you can't think of a time where his face didn't light up instantly upon seeing you, or a time where a compliment isn't the first thing that comes out of his mouth.
❀ there's been a handful of moments where you noticed men staring you down, but the moment they realized the hulking 6'5" man next to you was... well, with you, their gaze shift away with either a grumble or a quick double take.
sam has no problem cutting in if someone makes you uncomfortable. he tends to walk in front of the other person and greet you with a "there you are, baby" and a protective peck to your lips. he acts as a physical barrier between you and the other person until they get the point — whatever conversation they were having with you? It's long since been over.
❀ sam, ever the gentleman, does everything he can to make sure no one sees more than they're supposed to. he stands behind you when you bend over, a protective hand on your back as he ensures that the only person to get a glimpse of your bright colored thong is him.
he gently pulls you into his side and whispers in your ear if your top sinks lower than usual or borders on indecent exposure. he walks behind you when you walk up stairs, intentionally blocking the way just in case someone were to try to sneak a peek up your short dress or skirt. he offers his jacket when you get cold and never chastises you for not covering up or prioritizing fashion over function. overall, he does his best to make you feel the best you can be.
❀ however, sam is still a man. he can't deny the lingering looks he gives your body or those brief moments before he prevents a potential wardrobe malfunction where he just... stares and lets his mind wander back to the memory of your bare skin grinding against his that morning.
❀ sam absolutely denies how horrible his impulse control was near the beginning of your relationship.
sam wasn't used to having someone so comfortable and confident in their body around, so when you started showing up in tight little mesh tube tops and short shorts that left little to the imagination? he definitely had to find something nearby to cover the growing tent in his pants. the fact that he's excused himself to rub out a particularly bothersome erection with you in the next room? on multiple occasions? he's taking that to the grave. his ears go red eith embarrassment whenever those moments crosses his mind.
❀ he genuinely thinks that you're adorable. even when he's moments away from burying himself balls-deep inside of you, all he can think about is how cute you look when you're out of breath and needy for him. he's a pretty big guy, so when your hands can barely wrap around his biceps as you struggle to breathe through the stretch he's giving you? his heartstrings tug the same time his cock throbs.
❀ if you get whiny and desperate during sex, he coos gentle words of affirmation at you, murmuring how good you're being for him against your forehead. he loves the small noises you make and encourages you to make more. he memorizes what spots inside you gives him his favorite sound of pleasure from you.
❀ if you're a dirty talker, he genuinely goes speechless sometimes. whether you're moaning about how big he feels inside you, how well he fucks you, or degrading yourself and begging him to fuck you like the cockdrunk slut you are, he's letting loose a strained groan and putting his hips deeper into you. the dirtier you get, the more breathless he becomes. honestly, he can come just from listening to you talk dirty to him.
in fact, sometimes when you're not around, he shuts his eyes and imagines you sitting behind him and your hand wrapped around his cock instead of his own (yk, like these porn videos? cw: p-link). he replays his favorite phrases he's heard from you and imagines you murmuring them into his ear as you jerk him to completion.
❀ if you're not that vocal, he does most of the talking. the closer he gets, the more he stutters. he's a moaner, so he's making the prettiest sounds against your skin as his hips stutter. he compliments you, your body, and how you make him feel the whole time, going on about how lucky he is to have you until he's pulling out and coming all over you.
❀ one time, you got shy and asked him to turn your stuffed animals around right when he was getting ready to pull you to the edge of your bed, drop to his knees, and wrap his lips around where you needed him most. he could've swore he fell for you all over again in that moment. depending on how horny he is, he'll either take his time turning each and every one of your stuffed animals around or press a kiss to your lips and ask for a compromise.
"let's js cover them up, yeah? that way they can't see."
he'll toss a blanket over the sea of plushies on your bed, careful not to squish any other them as he begins to eat/suck you like a man starved. in general, he's very respectful of your belongings and your wishes. he's never going to call your requests stupid.
𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 → ❝ I wanna feel the rush, I wanna taste the crush, I wanna get you going. I wanna lay you down, I wanna string you out, I wanna make you mine. ❞
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 ৎ |
𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 ⋮ 𝑴𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑵𝑬 ৎ |
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒/𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 → pornstar!reader, yandere!ghostface, knife play, porn addict!ghostface, rape threats, porn mentioned, porn addiction mentioned, obsessive!ghostface, love struck!ghostface, hyperfem!reader, choking, unhealthy thoughts, praise, obsessive thoughts, violent threats, blood play, ownership obsession, possessive!ghostface, yandere themes and a lottt of praise.
𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹'𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 → Inspired by Madison Beer's song, Make You Mine. Thank you for your patience, angels. This month has been crazy. Glitter & Violence is unlocking soon, as well as So Wet and Lights, Camera, Action! The Dead Dove route is currently being worked on and many more routes to come. I'm currently working on a flowchart for all of the choices and routes! Also thank you to whoever voted on the polls (tag list at the end, comment if you want to be added.)
divider credits : @chrisssiren & @feimingo
♡ㅤ ⎙ㅤ ⌲
🖱️ 𝑪𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑼𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 🖱️
➢ You chose to be a good girl and continue the stream as you were told.
Smart choice.
Instead of making Ghostface jealous, you simply thanked Perverted Daddy’s generous donations, blowing him a kiss as you usually do for your special donors. It made your lovesick stalker’s hand twitch, and he nicked your soft chest with his blade. The sudden stinging pain earned a hiss from your pretty lips as blood trickled down your hard nipples.
“I'm sorry, baby doll, my hand slipped.” He lies. Always with the lies. Yet his voice was so tender and genuine, you almost believed him.
His filthy hands groped your chest, rubbing the stinging wound and forcing the blood to spill. He loved you in red. It was his favorite thing. He liked to watch the cherry red color ruin your pretty skin.
It stung. Yet you couldn't deny that the color indeed looks good on you. You almost couldn't blame him for wanting to watch you bleed all the time.
With each stinging touch, he spread the blood all over your tits as the viewers watched. He played with your cold nipples, watching them soften with your blood and the touch of his perverted hands.
➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM
[ ▸ 216.8k LIVE VIEWERS ]
LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED
♡ anonymous89 » this is so fucking hot
♡ jackripperfilms » finally some good content
♡ freakonaleash » [comment removed]
♡ choker&chains » oh wow
♡ cutieeesh» mmm this is so hot!
♡ messynymphe » I'm in love with this
♡ kylereddd » hope you do aftercare after this
♡ maryjanee» hi again!
♡ perverteddaddy » sweet angel.
He embraced you softly, “You're such a good girl.”
Thump, thump, thump.
You loved his praise..
“My sweet, sweet girl. Always listening so well.”
It was so intoxicating—you were starting to forget everything else. His hands roamed around your body, continuing to grope your bloody tits while he kept hungrily pulling your ass against his hard bulge beneath his robe.
The way he called you his good girl and touched you made your heart thump faster than the blade kissing your flesh. It also made you arch your back a little, pressing against his body more and more. You were a pathetic wet mess.
“Please, baby,” you whined needily, “I need you.”
Your whimpers and pleas made him weak in the knees for you. It drove him insane. It was so easy to make him sick with love for you.
His possessive grip on you became firmer, the ghostface mask tilting slowly as he looked at you. If only you could see behind the mask. His eyes were filled with lust.
“You need me to do what? Use your words, please.” He said in such a sweet voice, it made you sooo wet.
“I need you to fuck me, please—”, you whined softly, “I don't wanna read the donations anymore. I want you to fuck me, please, please.”
He gripped you tighter, his hands trembling with the need to fuck you in front of thousands. Your pathetic whimpers and begging made his cock ache; he didn't know you could be this eager for him. It was driving him insane. He needed you badly, too, but he had this night planned already.
He moved closer to your ear, “Just a little longer, baby, I promise, you'll get what you want soon.”
You whined once more, “Please, sir,” you pressed your ass against his throbbing bulge, “I know you want to.”
You could hear a dark chuckle under the mask, and his grip on you became tighter. “Of course I want to, doll.”
“I want to do so many bad things to you, things you won't be able to handle. We all want things, but I'm afraid we can't always have what we want.”
His threat made a puddle between your trembling legs. You whined once more, but before you could beg again, he forced your head to turn back and gripped his hand on your throat tighter.
The feeling of not being able to breathe feels so good to you—it's terrifying, but it feels intoxicating. Nobody talks about how easy it is to die, not knowing if this is going to be your last breath, and knowing that you're putting all of your trust and life into this strange man's hands. It deeply terrified you.
But it felt so good. It's a high you won't ever forget. The feeling of your eyes slowly losing the will to stay open, your mouth trying desperately to get air. Your body began to shut down, and it's crazy how easy it is to let it happen, sinking into your chair and letting your lovesick stalker's hands take away every breath you possess.
He didn't want you gone just yet; he just needed you to listen and stay still. His mask kept staring at you uncannily. Your vision started to blur, and his mask was distorted. You reach out to him, your hand trembling as you tug on his robe.
Your fingers tried to find their way to his bulge. Even when you were being choked, you wanted nothing more than his cock. It only made him harder.
“Fucking hell,” he whispers, “you're so needy today.”
Usually that would be a good thing, but he was feeling a bit unstable today, more than usual. His feelings for you just kept getting stronger and stronger.
Thump, thump, thump.
He knew if you kept begging and whining to be fucked, he would have lost it. He wouldn't have been able to stop.
Suddenly, he let go of your throat, letting you catch your breath. He tapped on your hip, signaling you to keep going for your devoted fans. So you listened, being a good girl and reading the chat and donations once more.
➢ [◉°] LIVE | ꧁ᬊᬁ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᬊ᭄꧂ ANGELSOFTPORN.COM
[ ▸ 233.2k LIVE VIEWERS ]
LIVE CHAT ▶SLOWED
♡ killiancsv » choke her again
♡ angelicwhore » she's so pretty when she can't breathe
♡ sukicutie » gained a new fan
♡ heavenlyy_22 » please do more knife play!
♡ dommommy » be careful
You continue to read multiple donations as Ghostface teases your body with his knife. You had gained so many new fans, and the donations kept spilling in.
♡── sukicutie Has Sent a $100 Donation──♡
╰┈➤ You're so pretty, and I love this Ghostface roleplay you're doing! I hope you keep doing it.
A little smile formed on your face, “Thank you for the generous donation, sukicutie! I love this Ghostface roleplay just as much as you.”
His gloved hand on your bare hip grew more possessive with your comment. “You're doing well, keep going,” he leaned over, “if you keep it up, I'll give you a special reward.”
The idea of a special reward made you even more motivated to keep being good for him. You turned your head back to the screen and continued to read another donation.
♡── heavenlyy_22 Has Sent a $150 Donation──♡
╰┈➤ loving the stream! You gained a new fan <3
You had gained so many new fans that it was getting overwhelming. “Ahhh, a new fan? Thank you for becoming a part of my lovely world, and thank you for your lovely donation, heavenly. I'm glad you're loving the stream.”
Ghostface traced the knife down your hips, slightly cutting you and earning a whimper from your lips. He loved the noises you made when you were in pain.
You winced at the stinging pain and felt the blood dripping, trickling down your bruised thighs. It looked so beautiful to him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bloody sight. He just wanted to keep spilling.
You noticed he was stuck in a trance, and the blood triggered him. He wanted to see your insides; he wanted to take your heart.
“Mr. Ghostface?” You called out to him, hoping to snap him out of his trance, “Are you okay—”, suddenly he pulled you out of the chair roughly, a little too roughly. He embraced you feverishly, holding you tight so you couldn't escape. So many perverted and sick thoughts were rushing through his head. You needed to calm him down. His tightened grip on the handle frightened you, and his mask just kept staring at your soft, trembling flesh.
To snap him out of it, you softly pushed him into your chair and straddled him. For a moment, he looked at you in confusion, not knowing what to do. But your face calmed him down.
His knife was still at your side, but you felt confident enough to grind on his bulge beneath his robe. His other hand joined your bloody hips to hold you.
“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbled beneath his mask. You could hear him struggling to say anything, yet you could hear his little whimpers and groans; they were so soft and cute. You wanted to hear them more.
You started to grind on him more sensually, slowly letting your sticky cunt stain his robe. He was so wet because of you. His tip was sticky with his precum, aching and twitching beneath your wet lips.
"Mine." He muttered as he gripped you tight.
It made your heart fluttered.
He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. His tight grip on the knife is weak, but it's still there. You continue to grind on his bulge, leaning forward and arching your back.
Your body is pressed up against his chest, and your face and his mask are almost kissing. If only you could take off the mask. You wanted desperately to see who was behind it. You wanted to kiss his lips and look into his eyes as you rode his cock.
He knew you wanted it badly. So in a moment of weakness, he lifted the mask just enough to reveal his lips and laid them on yours.
You were so happy. His lips were so soft that you passionately returned his special kiss. As you kissed him, you could not stop bouncing on his hardened member, your sticky folds completely drenching his robe.
He wanted to be inside of you already. While you returned his sweet kisses, you could feel his hands tugging his robe beneath you, and pulling out his dripping cock.
It looked so pretty and pink.
Without wasting time, he aligned it with your wet cunt and slammed it into you, stretching your little hole until it was in the shape of him. Fuck, it felt so good as he plunged his cock into you over and over again.
The sound of his cock repeatedly forcing its way into your hole filled the room; it was so loud, you were scared of someone making a complaint.
You could feel him pathetically melting right beneath you, his grip on the knife barely present anymore. All he could think about was you and how good your insides felt.
He was already so close.
With each slow and sensual kiss, his thrusts became more rapid and violent. His voice and moans were shaky, even more shaky than yours. He was cute like this. Then suddenly, thick ropes of hot, sticky cum spilled from his cock and erupted into your hole.
Yet, even as he came deep inside of you, he wanted to keep going. He gripped your plump ass and slammed into you over and over again as your viewers watched. You could feel your legs trembling with each thrust, your body started to ache, and you felt too weak to keep going. His hands roamed all over your sweaty body, and he couldn't stop tasting your lips.
“You're perfect. Too perfect.” He mumbled beneath his breath.
He gripped your ass harder and kept thrusting. “I don't want to stop, doll,” he said as he kissed you more feverishly, “I just want to make you mine.”
“Mhmm.. Sir—Please slow down,” you whimpered, but he wouldn't stop, he just kept thrusting, watching the way his filth spilled from your wet cunt.
You didn't know what to do, so you whispered your safeword as softly as you could. Surprisingly, it snapped him out of his lovesick trance. He slowed down yet kept slowly bucking his hips into you. It was so hot to watch him still chase his pleasure while not wanting to hurt you too much. You were happy he kept his promise.
“I'm sorry, babydoll.” He cooed, “Did I go too far?”
He sounded so genuine and concerned, it put a smile on your face. “I'm okay, don't worry. It was starting to get a little bit too much for me.” You answered honestly.
He hummed and looked towards the stream, wanting to end it already. The room was filled with the exhausted gasps for air as you both tried to catch your breath. He pulled you into one last kiss, one that was gentler.
“You did such a good job today, sweetheart.” His praise made you weak. He cupped your sweaty cheek and smiled. It was your first time seeing his smile. It made your heart flutter.
It was such a loving and sweet smile. It was something you wanted to see more. You pulled him into another kiss, “Thank you, baby.”
All of kinktober 25 posts are gone do you have ao3?
my 25' kinktober master list is a work in progress and I'm currently re-writing multiple fics. I dont post on the account I have but I do plan on soon, probably in August. my username is liliesdiary <3
at the moment all of my devices are broken or too slow to write on so updates on my face of an angel series will be very slow this month! thank you for your patience angels, especially those who sent special requests for the series or others, I'll get to your requests and ideas very soon </3
cw: dubcon, heavy themes of religion/blasphemy, corruption, p in v, creampie, virgin!reader
summary: man’s first sin was giving into temptation, and my god, don’t you just look ripe for the taking.
his maw snapped around your throat before you had even spoken to him. canines, dangerously sharp, goring into your soft, unblemished flesh, tongue suckling the sweet nectar that he bled from your neck. his mouth watered, saliva pooling in his throat, frothing at his lips, at the thought of tasting something so forbidden, sinking his teeth into you, swallowing you whole.
his sense had gone. blinded by faith, he would later muse, despite never having had a truly religious bone in his body. it was a passive belief, one that seemed more fleeting with every day spent on the road evading the dead. it would have been snuffed out entirely if it hadn’t been for you.
you, a local farmer’s daughter, taken under herschel’s wing after your family had been torn apart by walkers. you, whose granddaddy was the town’s old priest, he learned, more devoted to your faith than the greene patriarch himself. you, who would barely look at the men of the group when they came poking around on the farm, too shy and skittish to give them a proper greeting like the rest of your people had.
he recognized the starved look in his men’s eyes. he knew it was only mirrored in his own. that unsatiated look of hunger glowing deep within the dark abyss of their pupils, the internal seething that came from not being able to gorge themselves full. you were tantalean, kept just out of reach, leaving them aching for just another glimpse to sate their appetites.
but you were off-limits – herschel made that clear from the get-go. it was one among the many; herschel had laid down a lot of rules when they first showed up, ultimatums wrapped in the guise of hospitality, dictating their stay on his farm.
now, rick was a respectful man, thought himself honorable through and through – but to ask him of that? to resist such temptation? he might have been a good man, maybe, but even the best succumb to sin eventually.
that’s what he told himself, anyway. that he was only a man. that the lecherous feel of that forked tongue brushing at his ear was only natural, the whispers of depravity as earthly as the winds that carried in the sky. that there was something reverent, something unequivocally holy, about the slide between your thighs, the warm spasm of your walls as he sullied your untouched cunt.
he grit his teeth at the feeling of his tip pushing past the leaking seam of your pussy, notching against the snug catch of your fluttering hole.
“that’s it… biiiig stretch,” he’d said, tongue prodding against his molars at the ‘pop’ he felt feeding his cock into you, little virgin cunt finally giving way. you cried, choked gasps punched out of you like he was splitting you apart. weak hands shot out to claw at his arms, teary-eyed sobs of ‘s’too much, too much’ falling pretty from your lips.
in hindsight, it probably would have been nicer of him to break you in on his fingers first. pry you open gently, get you soft and pliant before giving you the real thing – but it had been hard enough coaxing you into the barn in the first place, his placating, lulling words falling on deaf ears as blasphemous guilt tore you to shreds.
“rick, i— i don’t.. i’ve never done this before—“
but goddamn, did he try.
“that’s alright, sweetheart, i’ll show you how.”
“don’t be scared, baby. it’s natural… you feel that? see it? that just means you want it. and this..? s’means i want it too.”
“look, you won’t even have to do anything, yeah? perfect just like this.. so perfect for me, huh…”
“m’right here, honey. you’re alright… doin’ so good for me…”
working you onto his cock seemed like the only thing to do. righteous, in a way. batting away any hesitant, wavering murmur of ‘chastity’ or ‘marriage,’ of ‘purity’ and ‘propriety’ that lingered like syrup on your tongue with every slow rock of his hips. and it worked. all trepidations melted away from you, trickling from your ears with the slog of your brain, coagulating in the hollow of your throat.
your dress was rucked up under the swell of your breasts, his hand splayed wide over your tummy, pressing you flat to the haybale to hold you still as he rutted into you. he felt bad, looking down at the sorry pinch between your brows, the tears wetting your lashes as you winced at the sting, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop.
it was overwhelming, the feel of you wrapped around him. squeezed so impossibly tight, convulsing as you tried to contend with the brute force battering its way inside you. were you dragging him in? or were you pushing him out? did you even know?
you sobbed when he fully sheathed himself in you, cock twitching in tandem with the wet pulse of your cunt.
“fuuuck, there we go,” he breathed, grinding into you once you’d taken him to the root. it ripped a keen from your throat when he nudged the gummy flesh of your cervix, your nails digging into the wrist at the foreign feeling.
“shh, you’re alright, you’re fine,” he soothed half-heartedly, leaning up to look at where you were connected. god, you were just so full, weren’t you? little pussy stretched wide around him, skin pulled taut around the thick of his base.
he gave a mean thrust. watched the way your slick glistened on his cock as he left the warm clutch of your walls, felt the way you clenched around him at the feel of him sliding out, heard the filthy wet squelch when he snapped his hips back in.
your mewls fell on deaf ears, completely blind to your tears, to the jutting pout on your lips as you tried to make sense of the heat flushing through your body, the jittery, confusing pleasure you felt from something so forbidden.
no, he was focused on the thing curling around his head, constricting around his skull, squeezing until his ears popped. the open hinge of its jaw pressing into the tender flesh, fangs exposed, spitting venom into the deepest recesses of his brain. vile, unforgiving, sinful thoughts, spewing forth like vitriol.
he was ruining you.
he could see your whole world view shattering behind your eyes with every thrust of his cock. watched as you realized that everything you knew, everything you had based your life upon, was suddenly wrong. tipped upside-down. because of him.
his hands circled your waist to fuck you down on him, dragging you across the scratch of the hay to meet the fervent pace of his hips. and you let him. soft, buttery thighs curling into his sides, little fists knotting in the fabric of his sleeves. your head tipped back to let out a small moan.
“yeah, that’s right, honey,” he crooned, grinning as you clamped your eyes shut at the slick sound of his balls slapping against your ass. “feels good, doesn’t it? me fuckin’ this tight little pussy?”
you whined, pulling a hand back to smother your lips. you were overwhelmed, the heat of arousal singeing every neuron, burning every synapse, until your brain ran runny, pooling molten in your skull.
“yeah it does,” he hummed, answering for you when you didn’t reply. “best fuckin’ thing in the world.”
he knew he was fucked. he knew it the moment he stepped foot on the farm, the moment he laid eyes on you, tantalizingly ripe, all but dripping your saccharine nectar from where you stood.
herschel’s words meant nothing to him. the temptation was too great, too transcendental to pass up. he would glut himself on you, slake his thirst with the arousal that drooled from your cunt. it was some base instinct, some primal, human compulsion. he needed to sink his teeth into you. he needed to gorge himself full, to swallow you down, to lodge you in his throat.
his fingers dragged over the smooth slope of your stomach, brushed over your mons. he spread your lips, saliva pooling on his tongue at the mess he found there. you were wet, fucking gushing, around his cock.
he slipped his thumb over your clit and you yelped, thrashing in his hold as your twitching pussy clamped down on him. he could feel you tensing up, feel your knees pressing harder at his sides, your walls spasming every time he bullied his length back into you.
you peeled your eyes open, a confused whine settling in the back of your throat as your orgasm crept up on you. god, weren’t you sweet, looking up at him like that.
“s’alright, i got you.”
your lip trembled, a soft whimper drifted its way into the air, and you nodded. fuck, you trusted him. to lead the way, to guide you through this and keep you safe.
his hips stuttered, sent reeling from the gluttonous sludge of greed that surged through his veins, black tar oozing in place of blood, all pumping down to his cock. he twitched inside you, felt the pull of his own orgasm snaking down his spine.
he almost lost it when you mewled out his name, grabby little hands reaching down to tangle with his own. you didn’t know what you were doing, did you? fucked dumb for the very first time, eyes glassy, mind gone. his teeth buzzed at the sight.
god, he fucking ruined you, didn’t he? spread out underneath him, hay tangled in your hair, hands clasped with his on either side of your head. your thighs squeezed tight around his hips as he split you apart, stuffed you full, plugged you up. you were spoiled the second he plucked you away from them.
this was repugnant. this was disgusting and defiling and depraved. he took you into his dirty hands, unsullied and pristine, and mangled you onto his cock. pure and untouched, twisted about as he bullied into you. this was desecration—
“rick— rick, please?”
he shuddered, bowing his head to rest against yours. you gripped his hands tighter, moans spilling unabashedly from your lips as he fucked you through your peak. you clenched down around him, twitching and writhing at the slide of his cock as he battered into your poor cunt. he watched the tears trickling down the the sides of your face, settling wet in your damp hairline, and he came.
slammed into you, buried himself as deep as he could go. and you welcomed him. choked out a wet sob and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugged him close as he spilled inside of you.
he didn’t have it in him to push you away, to pull out and come on your belly, hope he moved fast enough for it to not take. he stayed, cock pulsing, spitting up more and more spend with every spasm of your sensitive pussy clamping down around him.
no — no, this was veneration. this was worship. pious and devout, drinking in the soft hymns that fell from your lips, laving in the golden ichor that gushed around his cock. only something divine could have created you, shaped you with their godly hands, the very image of perfection.
you were his object of ruination. put in his path to test his resolve, and fuck, if he didn’t fail. his pride, his greed, voracious and destructive in the face of something so sweet, so delectable.
it was his sin to bear, but he dragged you down with him. left you marked with his crimes, all but scrawled your name on the gates of hell, right beside his.
he cooed when you mewled at him shifting inside of you, twitching as he slid himself out of the warm clutch of your pussy. would’ve died right there, on the spot, watching your poor, abused hole clench down around nothing, his cum dribbling out with every pulse, spilling down the cleft of your ass.
purgatory could wait, he figured. he wasn’t going to let you die any time soon, and he wasn’t going anywhere either.
