west coast prayer. buffalo 66.
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© missposessive ‘25. do not translate, repost, claim my work as your own, or feed my work to ai.

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@missposessive
west coast prayer. buffalo 66.
COMMISSIONS !
library.
© missposessive ‘25. do not translate, repost, claim my work as your own, or feed my work to ai.
private negotiations.
authors note - so i started this literally last june when i first got into uncharted (thank you girlfriend) and i wrote it with her in mind so theyre overly freaked out
warnings - nsfw obviously, slapping, overstim(?) idk
The hotel door swung open with a soft click as Nadine stepped inside first, scanning the room with practiced eyes before setting her bag down by the dresser. Rafe followed without a word, dropping his suitcase by the closet, the faint rustle of fabric and zippers filling the otherwise quiet space as they settled in.
The hotel they were staying at wasn't anything extravagant, but it certainly wasn't on the cheap side either. It had all the essentials — a small kitchen tucked off to the side, a surprisingly spacious bathroom, one queen-sized bed, and a short hallway that gave the place a little more structure than the usual cramped hotel room. It wasn't exactly luxury, but for the two of them, it was more than enough. Comfortable, quiet, and tucked far enough away from the rest of the chaos.
Nadine glanced over at her partner, scanning him up and down. She could see his exhaustion from traveling was catching up to him. "Tired? Perhaps we should just unwind for the night, relax... what do you say?" She spoke softly, a smile tugging at her lips.
The man was in the process of slipping his jacket off of his shoulders and hanging it up on a hook that hung in the hallway. He exhaled, "I dunno. Lots to do, lots to think about."
"Exactly my point. You seem tired, Rafe."
He walked over to the bed, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. He was exhausted, but they had so much to do. So much to plan. There was no time to 'relax' or 'unwind' when they now had to chase the Drake brothers, who had stolen what they were after.
"It wouldn't hurt to rest for one night. You'll need the energy." Nadine stepped in closer, her voice steady, practical as ever.
Rafe didn't respond right away. He just looked at her, eyes unfocused, then let his gaze drop to the floor. His posture stayed rigid, like his body couldn't decide whether to move or stay put. For a few seconds, he just stood there, lost in his head. The noise of it — the pressure, the expectations, the calculations — all stacked too high. He doubted he could switch it off long enough to relax, even if he wanted to. "I don't know, Nadine. We—"
The sudden press of Nadine's hand against his chest stopped him mid-sentence, and before he could react, she pushed him down onto the mattress. For a moment, he just stared up at her, caught off guard, propping himself up on his elbows as he tried to process it.
A teasing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she leaned in closer, hovering just above him, never once breaking eye contact. Her voice dropped low, laced with amusement. "Well... I can think of a way that might wear you out."
Nadine's hands trailed deliberately down Rafe's chest, her fingertips grazing along the lines of muscle, slow and controlled. She dragged them lower, over his abdomen, her palms flattening against the warmth of his skin, until they reached his thighs. There, she squeezed firmly, her nails digging in just enough to make her point, her smirk deepening as she watched his expression shift.
Rafe inhaled a shaky breath, his heart now racing. He immediately understood what Nadine was after. He'd never admit it, but he's been needing this. Desperately.
"Let me take care of you tonight, Rafe. No worrying about the Drakes or anything else," She began unbuttoning her top and slipping it off, dropping it to the floor then straddling the mans lap. She grabbed his face, ensuring his eyes wouldn't leave her. "Focus on this. Only this."
Rafe wasn't entirely sure what to do with his hands — they hovered at her waist for a moment, gripping her firm hips, then drifted lower, fingers trailing down the curve of her thighs. But before he could decide where they belonged, Nadine's hands shot out, snatching his wrists with ease and shoving them above his head, pinning them hard against the mattress.
His back sank into the bed beneath her, breath caught somewhere in his chest as her weight settled on top of him. The controlled strength in her arms was impossible to ignore — it always was.
"You know damn well this is the only time I'm letting you get away with this," Rafe muttered, voice rough with defiance but frayed around the edges with something else — anticipation, maybe. His jaw tensed as he shifted beneath her, testing the invisible restraints her grip imposed, but it was useless. His wrists were trapped. His body, at her mercy.
Nadine only raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a dangerous smirk. "Didn't you say that last time?" she challenged, her voice low, controlled, every syllable dripping with amusement and quiet authority.
Rafe exhaled through his nose, muscles tightening beneath her. His pride bristled, but god, she made it impossible to think straight like this. "...Yeah, well," he managed, voice softer now, raw around the edges, "this time, I mean it."
Nadine's fingers squeezed around his wrists in silent warning — daring him to believe his own words. Then, her grip around his wrists loosened and she moved her hands to rest on the mans chest. "Keep them there. Don't even think about moving." And he obliged.
Rafe's breathing hitched as Nadine's fingers slid beneath the waistband of his pants, grazing the sensitive skin there with maddening precision. His pulse hammered against his ribs, nerves and heat tangling together in a way that left his head spinning. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him, sharp, assessing, as if she was cataloging every subtle reaction—the shallow rise of his chest, the faint twitch of muscle beneath her hands, the way his knuckles clenched in the sheets.
Without breaking eye contact, Nadine tugged his belt open with practiced ease, the soft click of the buckle undone somehow deafening in the quiet room. Her fingers made quick work of the button and zipper next, the faint scrape of metal sending another shiver through him. She peeled the fabric down just enough to expose the sharp cut of his hips, teasingly slow, and her hands lingered at the waistband again—hovering there, toying with the tension building between them.
"You always act like you're in control," Nadine murmured, her voice low, velvety smooth but laced with undeniable authority. Her hands pressed firmer against him, tracing along the sharp lines of his hips before dipping lower, palm grazing over the growing strain beneath his boxers. "But right now?" Her smirk deepened, thumb brushing over him deliberately, drawing a strained exhale from his lips. "You're trembling."
Rafe's throat bobbed with a swallow, heat crawling up the back of his neck. His pride bristled at the vulnerability bleeding through his composure, but there was no hiding it—especially not with Nadine practically dissecting him under her touch.
She pushed the waistband of his boxers down next, knuckles grazing his skin with deliberate slowness as she freed him from the remaining layers. Rafe barely had time to register the cool air brushing over him before Nadine's hand closed around him—confident, unyielding, her grip firm but not rushed. A low, strangled sound escaped him, hips shifting instinctively under her touch as his control slipped further from his grasp.
Nadine watched every flicker of response with quiet satisfaction, her thumb running a slow, deliberate stroke along him, making his eyes flutter shut for a brief second. But her voice snapped him right back to the present—sharp, grounding, laced with amusement.
"Eyes on me, Rafe."
His gaze snapped open, heart racing, and the moment their eyes locked again, he knew—he wasn't getting out of this without completely unraveling first.
Her hand moved faster, stroking his full length with a tighter grip than before. Immediately, Rafe was finding it difficult to keep his composure. His fingers twitched above his head, wanting so badly to have them somewhere else - to have them entwined with the sheets, holding her body, or just something. Anything.
Neither of them broke the eye contact. Rafe's hips twitched, he'd let out a strained groan, she'd chuckle, but neither of them looked away.
"Do you want more?" She invited, hand still working him up and down with a steady pace.
"Please."
"Please what?" Nadine urged.
"Please, just don't stop. I need this. I need you."
Wow, it's shocking to see Rafe get so vulnerable. Nadine can feel something switch in her after hearing those words, taking it as a confirmation.
She stopped and brought her hand up to her mouth to spit in her palm, Rafe watched with glazed-over eyes. The thought of them being so focused on each other that she couldn't even stop to grab the bottle of lube from a bag on the floor was turning him on even more.
Nadine grabbed his dick again, returning to the same pace she had before. His hips bucked upwards, chasing more friction from the contact.
"Yeah? Is that better for you?" She sounded like she was teasing him for his reaction. The spit made it feel so much better.
"Fuck, yes..." He'd already forgotten the rule she had enforced about not moving. His left hand shifted to hold her bicep, holding her tight.
God, she could easily overpower him, and that is a fact. Whether it be during an argument, or in moments like these. He knew she had the real control over him, even though he fights to make sure nobody else knows.
His dick twitched against her slick palm at the thought.
Nadine loved seeing Rafe come apart. With his bare thighs spread, shirt still on and sticking to his skin, strands of hair falling in front of his eyes from its normal slick style - she was soaked just from the scene alone.
"How long have you been daydreaming about this, hm?" Her movement stopped and she grabbed a firm hold on his length, her thumb covering the slit.
He shot forward from his relaxed position against the headboard, his hand slid from her bicep to her wrist at an attempt to get her to move.
She slapped his hand away, "Nuh uh. Be good."
A pathetic noise came from his lips, the room filling with whines only coming from him. "Mmh... please, come on..."
"Answer the question, now." Her thumb circled his tip, rewarded with another whine.
"For— so long, Nadine. We've been too busy—" His breath hitched, his hips rocking.
"I agree. I'm sure you've had time to yourself, though, no?" She dragged on. Finally, her hand resumed the pace, but her grip did not ease.
"Oh my god..." Rafe groaned under his breath. He laid against the headboard like before, his blue eyes fluttering shut as he gave into the moment. He was losing his focus.
Nadine slapped him. Not hard, but enough to get him to stop getting distracted. "Rafe, come on now. Do you want me to stop?"
His eyes locked with hers, "Yes, yes— Fuck, yes. I've had a little time—" His words mixed with moans, a pit burned deep in his stomach from the slap. Holy fuck. His hips desperately chased the friction.
"Did you get off on the thought of me wrecking you like this?"
The room was full of the sounds of the bedsheets rustling under them and Rafe being unable to keep himself quiet. Surely the neighbors in the rooms next door would complain later on.
"So many times. Oh, fuck..." Such a pitiful expression on his face.
Her hand sped up and her eyes did not stray away from Rafe for one second. She wanted to watch him fall apart, watch him twitch and whine. The pit in his stomach grew hotter and hotter with each stroke.
"You're so fucking good for me, Rafe. So handsome when you finally relax and let me ruin you."
Rafe had his hands bunched in the sheets on either side of his legs, "God, please, Im gonna cum..."
"Go ahead, you've earned it."
She leaned closer to the crook of his neck, leaving kisses and small hickeys across the skin as the man finally came undone in her hand. White strings dirtied his shirt.
"Such a good boy."
While Rafe was catching his breath, Nadine rolled off of his lap to the bed, right beside him. Rafe shut his eyes for a moment, still coming down from the high. After a deep breath, he shifted his head to look at the woman next to him.
He didn't say anything, but she had a big grin on her mug. Her plan to wear him out had really worked. He felt like passing out.
"You owe me. Next time."
Rafe lifted his shirt over his shoulders and threw it to the floor, and both of them got under the covers.
private negotiations.
authors note - so i started this literally last june when i first got into uncharted (thank you girlfriend) and i wrote it with her in mind so theyre overly freaked out
warnings - nsfw obviously, slapping, overstim(?) idk
The hotel door swung open with a soft click as Nadine stepped inside first, scanning the room with practiced eyes before setting her bag down by the dresser. Rafe followed without a word, dropping his suitcase by the closet, the faint rustle of fabric and zippers filling the otherwise quiet space as they settled in.
The hotel they were staying at wasn't anything extravagant, but it certainly wasn't on the cheap side either. It had all the essentials — a small kitchen tucked off to the side, a surprisingly spacious bathroom, one queen-sized bed, and a short hallway that gave the place a little more structure than the usual cramped hotel room. It wasn't exactly luxury, but for the two of them, it was more than enough. Comfortable, quiet, and tucked far enough away from the rest of the chaos.
Nadine glanced over at her partner, scanning him up and down. She could see his exhaustion from traveling was catching up to him. "Tired? Perhaps we should just unwind for the night, relax... what do you say?" She spoke softly, a smile tugging at her lips.
The man was in the process of slipping his jacket off of his shoulders and hanging it up on a hook that hung in the hallway. He exhaled, "I dunno. Lots to do, lots to think about."
"Exactly my point. You seem tired, Rafe."
He walked over to the bed, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. He was exhausted, but they had so much to do. So much to plan. There was no time to 'relax' or 'unwind' when they now had to chase the Drake brothers, who had stolen what they were after.
"It wouldn't hurt to rest for one night. You'll need the energy." Nadine stepped in closer, her voice steady, practical as ever.
Rafe didn't respond right away. He just looked at her, eyes unfocused, then let his gaze drop to the floor. His posture stayed rigid, like his body couldn't decide whether to move or stay put. For a few seconds, he just stood there, lost in his head. The noise of it — the pressure, the expectations, the calculations — all stacked too high. He doubted he could switch it off long enough to relax, even if he wanted to. "I don't know, Nadine. We—"
The sudden press of Nadine's hand against his chest stopped him mid-sentence, and before he could react, she pushed him down onto the mattress. For a moment, he just stared up at her, caught off guard, propping himself up on his elbows as he tried to process it.
A teasing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she leaned in closer, hovering just above him, never once breaking eye contact. Her voice dropped low, laced with amusement. "Well... I can think of a way that might wear you out."
Nadine's hands trailed deliberately down Rafe's chest, her fingertips grazing along the lines of muscle, slow and controlled. She dragged them lower, over his abdomen, her palms flattening against the warmth of his skin, until they reached his thighs. There, she squeezed firmly, her nails digging in just enough to make her point, her smirk deepening as she watched his expression shift.
Rafe inhaled a shaky breath, his heart now racing. He immediately understood what Nadine was after. He'd never admit it, but he's been needing this. Desperately.
"Let me take care of you tonight, Rafe. No worrying about the Drakes or anything else," She began unbuttoning her top and slipping it off, dropping it to the floor then straddling the mans lap. She grabbed his face, ensuring his eyes wouldn't leave her. "Focus on this. Only this."
Rafe wasn't entirely sure what to do with his hands — they hovered at her waist for a moment, gripping her firm hips, then drifted lower, fingers trailing down the curve of her thighs. But before he could decide where they belonged, Nadine's hands shot out, snatching his wrists with ease and shoving them above his head, pinning them hard against the mattress.
His back sank into the bed beneath her, breath caught somewhere in his chest as her weight settled on top of him. The controlled strength in her arms was impossible to ignore — it always was.
"You know damn well this is the only time I'm letting you get away with this," Rafe muttered, voice rough with defiance but frayed around the edges with something else — anticipation, maybe. His jaw tensed as he shifted beneath her, testing the invisible restraints her grip imposed, but it was useless. His wrists were trapped. His body, at her mercy.
Nadine only raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a dangerous smirk. "Didn't you say that last time?" she challenged, her voice low, controlled, every syllable dripping with amusement and quiet authority.
Rafe exhaled through his nose, muscles tightening beneath her. His pride bristled, but god, she made it impossible to think straight like this. "...Yeah, well," he managed, voice softer now, raw around the edges, "this time, I mean it."
Nadine's fingers squeezed around his wrists in silent warning — daring him to believe his own words. Then, her grip around his wrists loosened and she moved her hands to rest on the mans chest. "Keep them there. Don't even think about moving." And he obliged.
Rafe's breathing hitched as Nadine's fingers slid beneath the waistband of his pants, grazing the sensitive skin there with maddening precision. His pulse hammered against his ribs, nerves and heat tangling together in a way that left his head spinning. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him, sharp, assessing, as if she was cataloging every subtle reaction—the shallow rise of his chest, the faint twitch of muscle beneath her hands, the way his knuckles clenched in the sheets.
Without breaking eye contact, Nadine tugged his belt open with practiced ease, the soft click of the buckle undone somehow deafening in the quiet room. Her fingers made quick work of the button and zipper next, the faint scrape of metal sending another shiver through him. She peeled the fabric down just enough to expose the sharp cut of his hips, teasingly slow, and her hands lingered at the waistband again—hovering there, toying with the tension building between them.
"You always act like you're in control," Nadine murmured, her voice low, velvety smooth but laced with undeniable authority. Her hands pressed firmer against him, tracing along the sharp lines of his hips before dipping lower, palm grazing over the growing strain beneath his boxers. "But right now?" Her smirk deepened, thumb brushing over him deliberately, drawing a strained exhale from his lips. "You're trembling."
Rafe's throat bobbed with a swallow, heat crawling up the back of his neck. His pride bristled at the vulnerability bleeding through his composure, but there was no hiding it—especially not with Nadine practically dissecting him under her touch.
She pushed the waistband of his boxers down next, knuckles grazing his skin with deliberate slowness as she freed him from the remaining layers. Rafe barely had time to register the cool air brushing over him before Nadine's hand closed around him—confident, unyielding, her grip firm but not rushed. A low, strangled sound escaped him, hips shifting instinctively under her touch as his control slipped further from his grasp.
Nadine watched every flicker of response with quiet satisfaction, her thumb running a slow, deliberate stroke along him, making his eyes flutter shut for a brief second. But her voice snapped him right back to the present—sharp, grounding, laced with amusement.
"Eyes on me, Rafe."
His gaze snapped open, heart racing, and the moment their eyes locked again, he knew—he wasn't getting out of this without completely unraveling first.
Her hand moved faster, stroking his full length with a tighter grip than before. Immediately, Rafe was finding it difficult to keep his composure. His fingers twitched above his head, wanting so badly to have them somewhere else - to have them entwined with the sheets, holding her body, or just something. Anything.
Neither of them broke the eye contact. Rafe's hips twitched, he'd let out a strained groan, she'd chuckle, but neither of them looked away.
"Do you want more?" She invited, hand still working him up and down with a steady pace.
"Please."
"Please what?" Nadine urged.
"Please, just don't stop. I need this. I need you."
Wow, it's shocking to see Rafe get so vulnerable. Nadine can feel something switch in her after hearing those words, taking it as a confirmation.
She stopped and brought her hand up to her mouth to spit in her palm, Rafe watched with glazed-over eyes. The thought of them being so focused on each other that she couldn't even stop to grab the bottle of lube from a bag on the floor was turning him on even more.
Nadine grabbed his dick again, returning to the same pace she had before. His hips bucked upwards, chasing more friction from the contact.
"Yeah? Is that better for you?" She sounded like she was teasing him for his reaction. The spit made it feel so much better.
"Fuck, yes..." He'd already forgotten the rule she had enforced about not moving. His left hand shifted to hold her bicep, holding her tight.
God, she could easily overpower him, and that is a fact. Whether it be during an argument, or in moments like these. He knew she had the real control over him, even though he fights to make sure nobody else knows.
His dick twitched against her slick palm at the thought.
Nadine loved seeing Rafe come apart. With his bare thighs spread, shirt still on and sticking to his skin, strands of hair falling in front of his eyes from its normal slick style - she was soaked just from the scene alone.
"How long have you been daydreaming about this, hm?" Her movement stopped and she grabbed a firm hold on his length, her thumb covering the slit.
He shot forward from his relaxed position against the headboard, his hand slid from her bicep to her wrist at an attempt to get her to move.
She slapped his hand away, "Nuh uh. Be good."
A pathetic noise came from his lips, the room filling with whines only coming from him. "Mmh... please, come on..."
"Answer the question, now." Her thumb circled his tip, rewarded with another whine.
"For— so long, Nadine. We've been too busy—" His breath hitched, his hips rocking.
"I agree. I'm sure you've had time to yourself, though, no?" She dragged on. Finally, her hand resumed the pace, but her grip did not ease.
"Oh my god..." Rafe groaned under his breath. He laid against the headboard like before, his blue eyes fluttering shut as he gave into the moment. He was losing his focus.
Nadine slapped him. Not hard, but enough to get him to stop getting distracted. "Rafe, come on now. Do you want me to stop?"
His eyes locked with hers, "Yes, yes— Fuck, yes. I've had a little time—" His words mixed with moans, a pit burned deep in his stomach from the slap. Holy fuck. His hips desperately chased the friction.
"Did you get off on the thought of me wrecking you like this?"
The room was full of the sounds of the bedsheets rustling under them and Rafe being unable to keep himself quiet. Surely the neighbors in the rooms next door would complain later on.
"So many times. Oh, fuck..." Such a pitiful expression on his face.
Her hand sped up and her eyes did not stray away from Rafe for one second. She wanted to watch him fall apart, watch him twitch and whine. The pit in his stomach grew hotter and hotter with each stroke.
"You're so fucking good for me, Rafe. So handsome when you finally relax and let me ruin you."
Rafe had his hands bunched in the sheets on either side of his legs, "God, please, Im gonna cum..."
"Go ahead, you've earned it."
She leaned closer to the crook of his neck, leaving kisses and small hickeys across the skin as the man finally came undone in her hand. White strings dirtied his shirt.
"Such a good boy."
While Rafe was catching his breath, Nadine rolled off of his lap to the bed, right beside him. Rafe shut his eyes for a moment, still coming down from the high. After a deep breath, he shifted his head to look at the woman next to him.
He didn't say anything, but she had a big grin on her mug. Her plan to wear him out had really worked. He felt like passing out.
"You owe me. Next time."
Rafe lifted his shirt over his shoulders and threw it to the floor, and both of them got under the covers.
COMMISSIONS!
is there a god in the west coast?
yes there is! and her name is lady ;)
i’m offering commissions that range from $5-$10. this is completely private and personalized work. these exchanges and transactions stay between me and you and me and you alone.
send a quick form - your name, describe your appearance, your gender + pronouns, plot, ship, and the type of fic you want (smut, fluff, angst, etc.) some of these things don’t have to be included if you want to keep your anonymity, and yes, i write for OC’s too!
i write for everyone! i got you. but please keep in mind, i am a cisgender woman, i will always try to write other people’s stories to the best of my ability, but i am not perfect. criticism is welcome.
adding onto writing for everyone, i write about anyone! i have the most experience writing for leon kennedy, rafe cameron, ellie williams, dean winchester, adrian chase, dante sparda, and sam winchester. but you can pick the most niche character ever, and i will write for you! this is all about you.
i am human, i have boundaries. i am allowed to reject any fic idea for any reason with no explanation. my boundaries include but are not limited to:
scat, ageplay, raceplay, water sports, smut including underage characters, real people.
pretty simple right?— now regarding prices.
prices always tie into the amount of words i write for the fic. my rules are simple: 5k> words is $5. 5k< words is $10. my limit is 10k words as of right now. down payments are required. once i get the information i need, i will send you the wip of your fic, and you are to send 50% of the totally payment.
my prices may fluctuate in the future but these are them for now! there are 10 slots open, and as i wrap up each fic, a new slot will open. feel free to DM me for any further questions!
selfies because i cannot stop posting myself ugh i look so good
WORST BEHAVIOR.
hunk x gn!reader
a.n - made this for my friends, i hope you see the vision ! the way hunk was taunting leon in re9? yeah. need that.
warnings - provocative language, handjob, whimpering, sub!hunk, dom!reader, bodily fluids (cum,), pwp, if i missed anything, don’t tell me.
i want you to treat me like there ain’t no one left on this fuckin’ earth.
all you could hear behind the mask were muffled moans, hunks cock twitching at your touch. you traced the small veins, his shoulders twitching— and you felt every bit.
even then, he didn’t have the decency to completely strip himself— not that you wanted him to. you liked him like this. a twitching mess under your touch. the imagination of what his face looked like under his mask was more than good enough for you.
“fuck— fuck me—,” he muttered, his gloved hand reaching up to touch your arm to attempt to halt your movements, it all becoming too much for his body to handle, but as quickly as it came up, it went back down. he wanted this. he wanted you to ruin him, to make him a mess in your hands. he wanted you to tease him about it even after it was done. the condescending tone you got when you spoke to him about it, making his cock strain against his pants when he got flashbacks from the multiple times you did this before.
“huh, shit..” he breathed, his other hand digging into the concrete, having nothing else to support him. his cock continued twitching as you moved your fingers methodically, twisting your wrist, teasing the head— hell, you even used two hands. he could feel his body betraying him. he had tried so very hard to keep it in, to hold his moans back, trying just this once to stop himself from giving you the pleasure you wanted. but in the end, you always got what you wanted.
“jesus fuckin’— christ,” he grunted, cum slowly squirting from his cock. he lifted his hand to cover what he could of his mask, almost embarrassed at how quick and easy you got it out of him, his chest heaving— clearly too as it was the only part of his body that was barely covered. you felt the warmness coat your hand, using your free hand to rub his shoulder to guide him through it.
his hips jerked, almost involuntarily as his cock moved inside your hand, like he just couldn’t get enough— the head peeking out now and again.
“so needy,” you cooed, and he let out a breathy laugh from behind his mask, continuing to fuck himself into your hand.
“shut up.” he said, gruffly. he’d get you back for this..when he was in better condition.
stomping ground .⋆♱
tw. obsessive dean! stalking. dead dove do not eat. masturbation (m). threats. panty kink. panty sniffing. sex. p in v. pussy slapping. ass slapping. tit slapping. oral receiving (f). CNC. dom dean. overstimulation. title from ethel cain.
Dean knows he’s a bad man.. but he just cant stay away from you.
He tells himself its for your protection, installing that GPS tracker into your phone and car. He knows when you're at the grocery store, when you stop for gas and when you take a detour to visit a ‘friend’.. but the truth is darker. he sits in the Impala outside your motel room at 2 AM, watching the light under your door with his knuckles white on the steering wheel imagining you sleeping. Imagining what your wearing…. panties and a tshirt? his tshirt?
would you be dreaming about him? do you call out for him in your sleep? are you wet? All the thoughts rush to his brain, then to his cock. His jeans becoming so tight and uncomfortable he just has to jerk off…
anytime you mention a new friend, within a week they’re gone. Dean makes sure of that. He'll leave subtle threats, show up unannounced and spread rumors that you're "taken" by someone dangerous. He never admits it but the satisfaction he feels when you're isolated- when you have no one but him, keeps him up at night with a sick kind of joy.
There’s a duffel bag hidden under his bed in the bunker. his own private collection of you. a hair tie you left on the sink, a napkin you wrote your number on and a pair of your panties. the lacy ones you’ve been looking for. sometimes he presses them to his face and inhales, your sweet scent still engraved in the cotton. sometimes he wraps them around his aching cock, jerking off until his hot jizz leaves stains inside.
when he finally finally gets inside of you, you have to say his name. He needs to hear it. “Dean." Over and over until your voice is hoarse. He fucks you from behind with one hand in your hair, the other wrapped around your throat. a reminder that he owns every breath you take. That he owns you. When you cum he makes sure you're saying his name. If you don't he’s slapping your pussy, your ass- tits and anything he can get his hands on until you do.
His favourite is when he gets to go down on you for hours. The feeling of your hands tangling in his hair trying to latch him off your sensitive clit but he just wont- instead he shakes his head to get deeper, tongue licking your pussy messily until your covered in his spit and so overstimulated your pleading him to stop.
Theres rot beneath his green eyes and smile but in deans eyes, its love. the only kind he knows how to give- suffocating and so consuming you practically move as one. Even if you dont want to.
and god help anyone who gets in his way.
can you tell ive just watched ‘obsession’ LMFAO
sam winchester cries during sex i’m spreading this propaganda
𝓟𝓾𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂
Summary: You love treating Sam like a lost puppy, especially after a hunt. In a motel room, he snaps and takes control, but crumbles inside you, crying, begging for praise, and asking if he’s doing a good job.
warnings: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader (Reader is named Bambi'I hate the Y/n thingy, just know it's you' ), Season 1-2 vibes, Bratty!Black Cat!Reader x Whiny!Golden Retriever! Sam, Crying during sex (male tears), Praise Kink, Size Kink, Desperation, Emotional hurt/comfort, Rough sex turned soft, Begging, Dean Winchester is a judgmental brother, Overstimulation, Hair pulling, Aftercare, Clingy!Sam, Slight OOC
The hunt in Ardmore, Oklahoma had been a nightmare from start to finish. A nest of vamps that turned out to be twice the size they’d anticipated, a sewage system backup that left everyone smelling like rot and sulfur, and a missed night of sleep that was currently pushing forty hours.
But the worst part, at least for Sam, wasn’t the physical exhaustion or the throbbing cut above his eyebrow. It was you.
You were in a mood. A specifically sharp-tongued, nails-out, 'don't touch me unless I say so' mood. You were currently sitting across from him in a booth at a 24-hour diner, picking listlessly at a waffle that had seen better days, radiating an energy that dared the world to test you.
Sam sat opposite you, hunched over his plate because the booth was too small for his frame. He looked like a giant, guilty secret trying to hide behind a coffee mug. His shaggy brown hair—still damp from a quick gas station shower-wipe—fell in curtains around his face, shielding his eyes. Every time he shifted, his leather jacket creaked, and every time he looked up at you, you rolled your eyes or sighed dramatically.
"Can you pass the sugar?" Sam asked softly. His voice was raspy, rough from smoke inhalation during the fight.
You didn't look up. You just pushed the sugar shaker across the table with a little too much force. It tipped over, spilling granules onto the Formica.
"Oops," you said, voice flat. "Clean it up, Sam."
Dean, sitting on the edge of the booth next to you, paused with a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. He looked at the spilled sugar, then at Sam’s trembling hand as he reached for a napkin, and finally at your bored expression.
"Okay," Dean said, dropping his fork. "What the hell is going on? We just ganked six bloodsuckers, we’re alive, we’re eating. Why are you acting like Sam kicked your puppy?"
You snorted, finally looking up. "Sam couldn't kick a puppy, Dean. He'd probably adopt it and cry when it got a flea."
Sam’s jaw tightened. He cleaned up the sugar, his movements precise and controlled, trying to keep his composure. "I'm just tired, Bambi. I didn't mean to... be in the way."
"See?" Dean pointed a bacon strip at his brother. "That. That right there. You’re apologizing for existing. It’s depressing, man. Grow a spine."
Sam flinched like he’d been slapped. He ducked his head further, his shoulders curling inward. It was a defense mechanism, one he’d used his whole life. Make himself small. Make himself invisible.
"It's fine," you snapped at Dean, though your eyes were fixed on Sam. "He likes it when I'm mean to him. Don't you, Sam?"
The question hung in the greasy air, heavy and charged.
Sam didn't answer. He just gripped his coffee cup until his knuckles turned white. But you saw the flush creeping up his neck—the very same reaction he had when he was turned on, or ashamed, or both.
Dean let out a groan of disgust. "I’m done. I can’t listen to this freaky foreplay." He shoved the last of his eggs into his mouth and stood up, throwing a few crumpled bills on the table. "I’m gonna crash in the Impala. I need silence and beauty sleep. You two get a room. And seriously, Sam? If she tells you to sit, maybe just... don't."
Dean walked out, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully as he left.
Silence settled over the booth. You looked at Sam. Sam looked at his coffee cup.
"We should go," Sam mumbled. "Dean has the keys."
"He'll be asleep in five minutes," you said, your voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "We can get a room here."
Sam finally looked up. His eyes were wide, wet, and bloodshot. He looked wrecked. "Bambi, please. I'm so tired. Can we just... not tonight? I can't take the teasing right now."
You tilted your head, studying him. He looked so pathetic. So beautiful. The cut on his eyebrow was stark against his pale skin. He was vibrating with anxiety, desperate for comfort but terrified to ask for it.
"Who says 𝓘'𝓶 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰?" you asked.
Sam let out a shuddering breath. "Because that's what you do. You poke and you prod and you make me feel like an idiot until I snap. And I don't want to snap. I just want to sleep."
"You want to sleep?" You stood up, grabbing your jacket. "Fine. Let's go."
Getting a room took ten minutes. The walk to the room took thirty seconds. The moment the door clicked shut, Sam dropped his duffel bag and sank onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into his palms. "I'm sorry I'm so boring."
You stood by the door, watching him. The room was dim, lit only by the buzzing neon sign from the parking lot outside. It cast long, red shadows across the cheap floral bedding.
You walked over to him, stepping between his knees. He didn't look up. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. He was massive, taking up so much space, yet he was trying to make himself disappear.
"Look at me, Sam."
He hesitated, then slowly lowered his hands. His eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. It broke your heart, just a little, but it also lit a fire in your belly. He was so open, so raw.
"I'm not boring, Sam," you said softly, running a hand through his hair. It was silky and damp. "I'm just... bored."
"I know," he choked out. "I know. I'm sorry."
"I think you need to stop apologizing," you said, your grip tightening in his hair, tilting his head back. "And I think you need to give me what I want."
Sam swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "What do you want?"
"I want you to stop acting like a kicked puppy and start acting like the man who killed six vampires tonight."
He let out a wet, broken laugh. "I don't feel like him. I feel like a mess. Bambi, please, I just... I need you. I need you so bad it hurts."
He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your stomach. He held on like you were a life raft in a storm. You could feel him trembling against you.
"I know," you murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know you do."
"I try to be good," he whimpered into your shirt. "I try so hard. Why is it never enough?"
"It is enough," you said. "You're enough. But you're also annoying when you mope."
You pushed him back, just a little. He looked up at you, panicked, thinking you were rejecting him. But you just grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, tossing it aside.
Sam froze. His eyes darted across your skin, drinking you in. "Bambi..."
"Take your clothes off, Sam."
He scrambled to obey. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't get his jacket off. You sighed, stepping forward to help him, shrugging the leather off his shoulders. You undid the buttons of his flannel shirt, pushing it open, revealing the tight white t-shirt underneath, straining against his muscles.
"Off," you commanded.
He pulled the t-shirt over his head. His chest was heaving, his skin flushed. You ran a hand down his chest, tracing the lines of his abs. He shivered, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Look at me," you said again.
He opened his eyes. They were dark, dilated, filled with a desperate kind of hunger.
"You're going to fuck me now, Sam," you told him. "And you're not going to be gentle. You're not going to ask if it hurts. You're going to take what you need, and you're going to make sure I feel it tomorrow."
Sam let out a sound that was half-sob, half-growl. "I can't. I'll hurt you. I'm too—"
"You're perfect," you cut him off, grabbing his face with both hands. "And if I say stop, you stop. But until then? You stop being a puppy, and you be a wolf."
Something in him snapped.
It wasn't a clean break. It was messy, jagged, and filled with emotion. He surged up, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was more teeth than lips. It was bruising, desperate, hungry. He kissed you like he was starving, like he was trying to consume you whole.
He stood up, forcing you backward until your back hit the wall. He kicked his jeans and boxers off in one clumsy, desperate motion. He was naked now, towering over you, all hard muscle and frantic energy.
"𝓢𝓪𝓶," you gasped as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.
"I got you," he mumbled against your neck. "I got you, I got you."
He carried you to the bed, dropping you onto the mattress. He didn't give you a moment to breathe. He crawled on top of you, his weight heavy and grounding. He tore your pants and underwear down your legs, tossing them carelessly onto the floor.
He hovered over you, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked terrified.
"Bambi," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Bambi, I'm scared."
"It's okay," you said, reaching up to touch his face. "It's just me."
"I don't want to disappoint you," he said, a single tear spilling over and tracking down his cheek. "I want to be good for you. I want to be so good."
"You are," you assured him. "Now, Sam. Please."
He didn't need any more encouragement. He lined himself up and thrust into you, hard and deep.
You cried out, your back arching off the bed. He was huge, and the sudden stretch burned. But he didn't stop. He set a rhythm that was punishing, fast and deep. The bed frame slammed against the wall with a rhythmic thud that echoed through the room.
"Is this okay?" he choked out, his eyes squeezed shut. "Tell me it's okay. Please."
"Yes," you moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. "Yes, Sam, god—"
"I love you," he sobbed, fucking into you with a desperation that bordered on violence. "I love you so much. It hurts. It hurts how much I love you."
He was crying freely now, tears streaming down his face and dripping onto your chest. It was overwhelming—the sight of this powerful warrior breaking apart over you, trembling and weeping as he took you.
"Look at me," you demanded.
He opened his eyes. They were red-rimmed and swimming with tears. He looked so vulnerable it made your chest ache.
"You're doing so good," you told him, your voice breathless. "You're fucking me so good, Sammy."
"Yeah?" he whimpered, his hips snapping forward, driving deeper into you. "You like it? You like me?"
"I love it. I love you. You're mine, Sam. All mine."
"Yours," he agreed, burying his face in your neck again. He was panting, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm yours. I'm your good boy."
He slowed down, grinding his hips into yours, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision white out. He wasn't rushing anymore. He was savoring it, clinging to you like he was afraid you'd disappear.
"Am I doing a good job?" he whispered against your ear. "Am I making you feel good? Please say yes."
You ran your fingers through his damp hair, holding him close. "The best job, baby. The best job."
He let out a shuddering sob of relief. "Thank you. Thank you."
He started moving again, faster this time, chasing his release. He was lost in it, completely undone. He was a mess of contradictions—strong enough to crush you, but breaking apart in your arms. Dominant enough to take what he wanted, but submissive enough to beg for permission to have it.
"Come on, Sam," you urged him, feeling your own climax building. "Come for me. Be a good boy and come for me."
With a broken cry, he buried himself to the hilt and came undone. His whole body shook violently, his muscles locking up as he spilled into you. He collapsed on top of you, his full weight pinning you to the mattress, sobbing into your shoulder.
You held him while he shook, stroking his back, whispering soothing nonsense into his hair. He cried for a long time, letting out all the stress, the fear, the exhaustion of the hunt. He cried until he was empty, until there was nothing left but the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.
Eventually, he rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. He tucked you under his chin, wrapping his long limbs around you like a cocoon. He was still sniffling, his eyes swollen and red.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into the dark. "I'm sorry I cried."
"Don't be stupid," you mumbled, sleep already pulling at you. "I like it when you cry."
He let out a weak, huff of laughter. "You're weird."
"And you're a giant, emotionally unstable puppy," you replied. "Now go to sleep."
"Okay," he sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Goodnight, Bambi."
The next evening, the three of you were at a bar on the edge of town.
The air was thick with smoke and the smell of cheap beer. A pool game was in full swing in the corner, and the jukebox was playing something classic and loud.
Dean was in his element. He was leaning against the bar, flirting with the bartender, a cocky grin plastered on his face. He looked clean, rested, and entirely too pleased with himself.
You were perched on a barstool, sipping a gin and tonic, feeling pleasantly sore.
Sam was standing behind you. He hadn't left your side since you woke up. He was wearing a fresh t-shirt and his leather jacket, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. He looked better—less haunted—but his energy was different. He was clingy.
He was standing with his chest pressed against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. Every time you shifted, he followed you, maintaining contact like he was physically glued to you.
Dean wandered over, two fresh beers in hand. He looked at the two of you and raised an eyebrow.
"You know," Dean said, setting a beer down on the coaster. "Most people go to a bar to, you know, socialize. Mingle. Not act like a sentient backpack."
Sam ignored him. He just nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He was being subtle about it, or at least he thought he was. But to anyone watching, it looked like a six-foot-four giant trying to hide inside a five-foot-six woman.
"Sammy, you alive in there?" Dean poked Sam’s arm.
Sam grunted, but didn't pull away. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, his eyes closing.
"He's tired," you said, resting your hand on top of Sam’s where it interlocked over your stomach.
"He's always tired," Dean scoffed. "But this is new. He's usually brooding in the corner by himself. Now he's fused to your hip."
Sam lifted his head slightly, just enough to be heard. "She smells good."
Dean choked on his beer. "Okay. That was TMI. I'm going to go play pool. Before I vomit."
Dean walked away, shaking his head.
You turned slightly in Sam’s arms. He looked down at you, his eyes soft and warm. The vulnerability from the night before was still there, but it was quieter now. Muted.
"You okay?" you asked, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.
He nodded, leaning into your touch. "Yeah. Just... still processing."
"You liked it," you stated, a smirk playing on your lips.
Sam blushed, looking down at his boots. "Yeah. I... I really liked it."
"You liked crying?"
He looked up, his gaze intense. "I liked letting go. I liked... you taking control, but also... I liked feeling like I could... I don't know... take care of you, too."
"You did take care of me, Sam," you said softly. "You did a really good job."
A small, shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You leaned up and kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss. When you pulled away, he looked dazed.
"Can we stay like this for a while?" he asked, his voice dropping to that low, whiny register that made your stomach flip. "Just... like this? I don't want to let go."
"You're such a puppy," you sighed, but you leaned back against his chest, settling into his warmth.
"I know," he murmured, burying his face in your hair. "𝓘'𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓾𝓹𝓹𝔂"
"And don't you forget it."
He tightened his arms around you, burying his nose in the curve of your neck, completely blocking out the bar, the noise, and Dean. For the moment, it was just the two of you the bratty black cat and her devoted, oversized, slightly traumatized dog. And somehow, it was exactly what you both needed.
A/N: I honestly feel like I made Sam A little OOC, but I was really trying to make him submissive cause if yk, he's more dominant in later seasons, which is why I chose seasons 1-2 I tried to proofread it idk how that went but I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! I also made the banner thingy heh
cove holden i miss u u are my first love
maybe it’s my dissociation but does anyone look back at their fics and genuinely wonder who tf wrote that because it was NOT me
any good recs rafe fics/blurbs from you or any other creators?
@polkaglock has icky ones
@pittsick has ones in his masterlist
@morguesiren is THEEE rafe author, a whole storybook of stuff you will find everything you could be looking for
@severedlamb writes i think mostly for rafe so you will find everything ur looking for there shes insanely good and has range smut fluff angst ur golden
@evansbby has a really good one pinned this one is really accurate like s1 rafe imo
@cherienymphe is another goated rafe author, her fics are literally like i would have to push it to a tier of its own since she writes series and literally encapsulates his personality to a T, she is a dark blog tho so tread with caution
@whydidicry
@missposessive
@hearts4hughes
my sideblog @kill3illreads has a ton of rafe fics reblogged
and i will write some closer to the new season
˖ ꫂ᭪ ֗ full focus ✿ ݁ 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 : 𝟣𝟪+ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝖻 .
🗒️ 𓈒 . “stop it,” you mumble, shoving munch! dean’s face away from your thighs. recently, you could never get any research done — at least not with dean around.
sitting comfortably on his bed in the bunker, you had hoped to get a little information about a case, but that soon failed the second dean walked in. he was on the bed, tucked between your thighs as he often liked to lay there, but this time? his fingers teased at your clothed pussy under your t shirt. just light little touches at first, tracing the outline of your puffy folds, rubbing tiny circles on your clit. but then he moved his mouth to your thighs, sucking loudly on the skin and inching closer to your core. it was obviously distracting.
“sweetheart,” he groans. “just let me. wanna taste you.” he pleads, already in the process of stretching your panties to the side. “d-dean, i’m trying to do research.” you complain, hoping he wouldn’t make a remark on how wet you were just from a few touches. but of course he notices.
“right, n’ that’s why this pretty pussy’s all soaked for me.” a nasty smirk curls onto his lips, using his other hand to spread your pussy lips wide to look at you. “fuck..” he grunts under his breath, watching the way your cunt tightened around nothing.
another complaint died on your tongue the second his licks a long, flat stripe up your center, drawing a pretty moan from you. “taste so sweet, baby.” his lips suction around your clit, tongue swirling with skill around the pulsating bud. “ohmygod—” the pen slips from your hand, newspaper following as he pushes your thighs further apart and devours you. he always does, moaning into it like he needs it more than you.
he leaves sloppy kisses to your pussy before dipping down and plunging his warm tongue inside your hole. his hot breath fans over the expanse of you, making you twitch. “h-haah.. dean..” you fingers curl into his hair, keeping him there. he laughs lapping up your arousal messily. “keep researchin’, darlin’. thought you had stuff to do?” he grins, not wasting any more time before spitting a glob of saliva onto your clit before watching it drip down to your hole. “god, i love this pretty ass cunt.” he praises, sucking juices out of your tight, fluttering hole.
◜ © 𝗳𝗹𝘄𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗮 ◞ 𝑎𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽.
thank u for 1k <3 one month before classes r over !! i have many surprises for u <3
⌗ SORRY BABY [ 🗝️ ] ˳ 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋
in 𝓌hich ﹒ ﹒ ﹒ 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 !! 𝗌omno, fingering, size kink, belly bulge, unprotcted sex, creampie, no real plot ⦂ 𓈒ּུ𓂃༷ ✶˚ 𝟭𝟯𝟰𝟰 .
ⓘ 𝓶𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁
𓏲𝄢 tysm for the tag wifey @bensdoll
last song: harder to breathe by maroon 5
favorite color: forest green
currently watching: rewatching true blood and ncis
current obsession: alexander skarsgård & AKOTSK
last google search: what did they call a temper tantrum in asoiaf
currently working on: the second chapter of my daeron au
🏷️ no pressure tags! @rottenbites @userhotd @lilahthedoll @bellesreverie @pensfairy @dewypout @deertaur @dolcefloral @doeeyedcrucifix @deerpains + anyone who would like to join
♡ tysm for the tag bby !! @carmysdoll (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
last song : no chill — partynextdoor
favourite colour : pink and sage green ( strawberry matcha )
currently watching : rewatching gossip girl
current obsession : jon bernthal && wwe
last google search : when is eddie guerrero’s birthday? ( birthday twin , rip 🤍 )
currently working on : 400 follower special and a new !reader
🏷️ no pressure tags! @lacyydollette @mfstargrll @pittsick @sturniphone @vogueprincess @lordcowgirl @t1mbits @mattflvwr @flwrlea @polkaglock @cameronsbabydoll @dailydoseofchratt @mattscoquette @bruisedfig @irisgrrl @v3mpirs @spookysturnz + anyone who would like to join ♡
thank you so much for the tag lovelies 💌 @lilahthedoll, @maverist, @deerpains !!
last song : needless to say by sabrina carpenter
favorite color : i’m one of those annoying ass people who doesn’t have a favorite color so i’d say anything pastel n light <33
currently watching : criminal minds
current obsession : spencer reid && dark chocolate
last google search : ‘is the cow theory from the movie someone like you true?’
currently working on : some small blurbs for my au’s n thinking about moving into difffent fondoms :)
NPTS 💌 @ibeetlebum @polkaglock @nxbodysangel @cherrywriterrr @st6ined @missposessive @rafedeer @dollyfiles <3
.✦ ݁˖ thank you for tagging me angel girl!
last song? : kill v. maim
favorite color? : maroon, black & purple! never just one.
currently watching? : the boys, yj, gossip girl
current obsession? : arcane & jayce talis
last google search? : ‘resident evil fortnite’
currently working on? : 10 diff blurbs!
tags : whoever wants to join in <3
✩‧₊˚ ' pretty when you cry '
jayce talis x gn!reader | smut, overstimulation, dacryphilia, sub!jayce, dom!reader, pretty crier jayce, handjob, degradation/praise mix, messy messy messy !!
!! nsfw under the cut, mdni ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱