Bibi

24 | She/Her | Multi fandom | 18+ only | minors dni

[sugarcombsw]

JUST SO YOU GUYS KNOW

this profile right here: @moonlwghts is also my profile, so if I answer something with this one it's just me, also might post stuff there too.

Who I currently write for:

• Nate Hardy

• Colby Brock

• Sam Golbach

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Started: 12/12/2023

Ended: 08/04/2024

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EPILOGUE

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please comment below or message me!

[zepskies]

Pratt Fall

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Assistant!Reader

Summary: Behind every powerful man is a resourceful woman. He doesn’t realize how much he relies on you, until he realizes how much he wants you.

AN: This was originally requested as a birthday fic for a lovely Patreon member, @redhoodieone! It's my first attempt at an office AU with Dean, but I know it's a popular trope for a reason lol. Hope you guys enjoy this little snack of office smut ❤️‍🔥

Word Count: 1.7K

Posted on Patreon: Feb. 7, 2026

Tags & Warnings: (18+) Office politics, power imbalance (but not really), hint of angst, but mostly smut (v. fingering, oral – female receiving)

“Dean, you’re driving me crazy!” you snap. “Just read the speech as written. Sam and I worked on it for two weeks. It’s perfect.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t even sound like me,” he grumbles. “What the hell does ‘solidarity’ mean?”

You utter a sigh as you follow him into his office, shutting the door behind you with your ass. Your hands are full—with a large binder of purchase orders that still need to be approved by the very man who can’t seem to take anything seriously.

He has the notecards Sam gave him in one hand, a glass tumbler with a generous pour of whiskey in the other. He’s meant to address the entire company in twenty minutes, and he still hasn’t put on his suit jacket or picked out his tie. You laid two options over the arm of his desk chair: black and white pinstripe or burgundy with a tiny triangle pattern.

“Cohesion. Harmony. Camaraderie. All the things you want to inspire in your employees after another million-dollar deal that’s going to make their workloads triple over the next six months,” you say, heaving the binder onto Dean’s large desk. The rest, you mutter under your breath. “And something severely lacking between you and I.”

Dean looks up from the small print on the index card, aiming his furrowed brows your way.

“What’re you talking about?” he asks, drawing closer. He sets his glass with a heavy clink down on polished wood. He glances down at his still unbuttoned collar and starts closing buttons. “You and I are one of the most well-oiled machines in this place. By the way, which—”

You hold up the burgundy tie for his inspection. Dean’s lips twitch at a grin. It’s like you’re in his goddamn head.

“See? You already know what I want before I gotta ask,” he says. A small sigh escapes you, but you still start sliding the tie up around his neck and under his collar.

“That’s because I’ve apparently made a career out of babysitting a grown man. Move your hand,” you say, batting his digits away from doing the tie himself. You know how he likes it, done in a Pratt knot rather than an old-school Windsor.

He snorts. “I’ll tell you what, it’s your fault, okay? Before you waltzed your way in here—”

“Before you hired me?” you interject.

He smirks. “Fine, before I hired you, with barely a scrap of professional experience besides a little college internship and an eight-month stint in an office—at one of our competitors, I might add—”

He grunts when your hand “slips,” making the knot tight enough to choke him. Amused, but still giving you a censuring look, he slips a finger between the fabric and his neck, loosening it a little as he clears his throat.

“I was entirely capable of running my life without you. I made make-or-break decisions for this company every damn day,” he says. But slowly, his smile slips. The way the green of his eyes roam over your face, your familiar hands, your softly parted lips while you pretend to be concentrated on what you’re doing.

“Now, I don’t know,” Dean says. He swallows, his throat sticking. “I’m in a meeting, and I can’t get comfortable until I know you’re sitting right there to my left. You don’t even need to be taking notes or anything. All you need to do is sit there, and I’m good.”

You pause, finally meeting his eyes.

“I close on a deal, and I’m not satisfied,” he says. “Not ‘til I tell you about it. Because I know you’ve been busting your ass just as much to help make it happen in the first place.”

Your hands begin to release his tie, but he gently grips your arms, keeping you in place.

“Dean…”

“I would say it’s a crying shame that bastard knocked you up before you really got your shot over there at Ashland, but that would mean I wouldn’t have the benefits of your many talents,” he says.

You try to ignore the thing that’s creeping into his tone. The thing that makes your cheeks prickle, and warmth bloom between your legs. You sigh and smile up at him, half exasperated.

“That might just make you the most selfish man in the world,” you say.

He smirks, his thumbs beginning to brush back and forth against your arms. Even in this little number you got on, a plain white blouse tucked neatly in a long pencil skirt, he can’t help his imagination. He’s fantasized about helping you for a change, with that pointless collection of fabric and buttons on this very floor, and his mouth anywhere you want him.

Anywhere you let him taste you.

“Yeah, I wonder if Emma thinks so, seeing as I’m the one who got her mom a raise so she could go to that fancy private school,” he says, with an arch of his brow. “Looking forward to that little play they’re putting on. What was it again?”

“Matilda,” you supply.

Dean frowns. “What? Isn’t that the one where the asshole principal locks little kids in a closet and stuffs ‘em full of cake like she’s making pâté? Little heavy for Kindergarteners, huh?”

You laugh, showing off that smile he gets out of you more often than not.

“She’s kind of nervous about that, actually. But she did ask if you were coming,” you say. Your eyes lower, just like your hands smoothing down his collar, then lying flat against his chest. “God knows if her father’s going to show up.”

Dean releases his hold on you, just so he can take your chin between his fingers and raise your eyes to meet his.

“I’ll be there,” he says. Finality and promise—something a man’s never given you.

Dean knows enough to know what he’s doing, what he’s saying. His free hand molds to the curve of your waist, tightening with the edge of possessiveness.

“Dean,” you breathe a warning in his name. His lips hover near yours, one decision shy of getting his way. “We…we can’t do this again.”

“See, I get that, but I’ve been having a hard time remembering why,” he says. All the while, his fingers are toying with the zipper on the side of your skirt. He guides it down, and down, and his practiced hand slips behind the waistband, behind white lace underneath, skimming bare flesh and heat against the palm of his hand, until his fingers find the wet slit of your pussy. A shaky breath falls from your lips.

“You damn well know why.”

And yet, your hand slips across his cheek, caressing there briefly as your eyes lock with his. Then your fingers sink into his hair, and you’re pulling him into you, tangling your lips and tongue with his in a way that makes you both moan.

The hand that’s not buried between your legs has a stronghold on your hip. He guides you back against his desk, but you’re the one lowering your skirt further so he has more room to torture your clit. Rough finger pads strum you mercilessly, drawing slick arousal from your entrance.

“Oh, fuck. Dean,” you gasp against his mouth. Your fingers curl tighter in his hair. Your hips buck to the rhythm of his hand, begging for more. His lips claim wherever they burn their path, from your jawline to sucking hard against your neck. You’re not even quite on the edge of his desk, half leaning, half clinging to him for survival as his fingers plunder you deeper.

Until he withdraws his hand entirely. You’re heaving for breath, uncomprehending, but you don’t even really have time to ask him just what the hell he’s doing by stopping. Because he’s already sinking to his knees.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you in, burying his face right between your glistening folds. A gasp and a whimper choke out of you at the pleasurable invasion of his tongue. Your hand flies to his hair as you try to steady yourself on the desk.

“Dean! Jesus,” you whisper-shout. Suddenly you remember, worried, that you two haven’t bothered to lock the door this time. He’s supposed to address the entire staff body in exactly ten minutes, and he’s not even fully dressed yet. Now, neither are you.

The man doesn’t seem to give a fuck about anything sensible like that, other than devouring your pussy. Your panties are a torn scrap of fabric around your ankles, along with your skirt that you spent thirty minutes ironing this morning. But you can’t bring yourself to give much of a fuck either, not when his tongue licks up to your clit, and his lips suck around the swollen bud like it’s butterscotch candy.

His fingers join in, slipping into your hot, throbbing core. By then, it doesn’t take more than a few strokes against your sensitive walls to have you coming hard around his fingers. Black and white brittle stars burst behind your eyelids, your mouth falling open in a harsh cry.

You can’t even breathe, because he’s still fucking you with his long, talented fingers. It’s too much. It’s like pushing you off the edge of the volcano while you’re still falling, still erupting. Still want his cock too.

Your fingers tighten in his hair to stop him.

“Dean, Dean, Dean, please…”

Mercifully, he stops. His fingers slip out of you, though his tongue laps at you one more time, just to feel you squirm and shudder against him. But as he pants for breath, he presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, reverent, an unspoken declaration.

You soften as you look down on him. Your eyes show your conflict and your fondness as you cup his face with both hands, caressing his wet, stubbly cheeks with your thumbs.

“God, baby, you’re a mess,” you laugh, grabbing a tissue off his desk to wipe at his glistening mouth, nose, and chin. He smirks in satisfaction beneath your hand.

“There you go, still takin’ care of me,” he teases, rubbing your thighs.

This is a far cry from the cocky asshole you met a year ago.

Dean Winchester, CEO of HunterCorp, who hadn’t thought he needed an assistant when you came in for your interview. He hadn’t even looked at your resume beforehand and didn’t think he was going to remember your name by the end.

Now, that man is on his knees, willingly covered in your arousal. It’s obscene, but it’s also pulling at your heartstrings. 

You guide him back up to your lips, where you can stake your claim on him. You don’t know yet if it’s going to stick, but he’s finally worn you down.

You’re willing to try.

AN: Some of my Patreon members suggested I write a Part 2 to this. What did you think of “part 1”?

And are you thirsty for more CEO!Dean? 😉

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Dean Winchester One-Shots 

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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @waynes-multiverse @lamentationsofalonelypotato @chevroletdean @deans-spinster-witch

@jollyhunter @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @roseblue373 @rizlowwritessortof

@wvffles @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @pieandmonsters

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @jensensswthrt

@winchestergirl2 @spnbabe67 @stoneyggirl2 @my-stories-vault @this-is-me19

@tofics @artemys-ackles @mrsjenniferwinchester @charmed-asylum @flawlesslyspellbound

@k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @rachiem4-blog

@leigh70 @aylacavebear @midnightmadwoman @twinkleinadiamondsky @kmc1989

@siampie @masked-lost-girl @suckitands33 @cheynovak @spnaquakindgdom

@mimaria420 @megara0224 @globetrotter28 @illicithallways @castielscaplan

[nesta-is-autistic]

Az: I scare people lots because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms so when they turn around I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me

Eris: how did you get into my house

Az: exactly

[mackonfire]

I have a joke about math but im 2² to say it

[kiwicidios]

ฅ♡ฅ ࣪ ۪ 🎀⭐ ˖ ࣪

[illyrianbitch]

whenever i say no men allowed i am NEVER talking about lucien vanserra. he has a babygirl pass. let him through

[wanderingwinds333]

My Sweetheart, Your Nightmare.

Pairing: Azriel X Reader

Summary: Having noticed that Elain clings to Azriel, Feyre mentions she thinks Azriel and Elain would be good together. Questions why the mother didn’t make them mates. Rhysand quickly lets her in on an important piece of information.

“‘Why not make them mates?” Feyre states as she witnesses her sister and Azriel down in the garden.

Rhysands eyes widen at his mates brazen comment and goes to interject but before he can she continues on.

“They look perfectly matched do they not? Two beautiful and caring people. Three sisters for three brothers just make sense?” Feyre says sounding upset.

“Feyre darling. It appears I’ve left out some pretty important information about this family. It’s my fault really, she’s been out doing my messy work for the night court this whole time. Keeping all the other threats at bay and …immobilizing them so Azriel has less work on his plate.” Rhysand rambles.

“What? I’m not following Rhys?” Feyre questions.

Rhysand sighs but goes to explain further.

“Azriel is only doing as I have asked in looking after Elain. He already has a mate Feyre. One he is very committed to. A female that you most certainly never want to hear the words you just spoke about your sister and him. She- “ a throat clears from behind them.

“SHE, is right here Rhysand.” A sultry voice states.

Rhysands eyes widen in what Feyre can only see as fear.

“Y/N! You are home! Oh Azriel is going to be thrilled, let me just go get him for you.” Rhysand quickly goes to grab Feyre and tries to leave but y/n has other plans.

Magic surges across the room and Feyres feet feel stuck to the floor. She turns her head to look at Rhysand and notices he is in the same predicament.

“Dammit” Rhysand whispers more to himself.

“Ah ah ah, Rhysie. That’s no way to greet your favorite sister in law. You haven’t even introduced me to your mate yet.”

Feyre turns to actually get a good look at the female that has somehow over powered the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

Ashen white hair, icy eyes, taller than most fae females, and she has a beautiful silhouette that filled out a pair of black leathers quite nicely, Feyre thought. Cauldron boil her, this female was gorgeous.

Before Feyre could find anymore of your perfections Rhysand interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Think less loudly Feyre Darling, I’m starting to become jealous.” Rhysand deadpans.

Feyre blushes and immediately looks down to her feet.

“You know I have that affect on most fae Rhysie. Don’t be a sour puss.” Y/n smugly states.

Y/n descends upon them and actually goes to bow before Feyre.

“It is an honor to officially meet you my High Lady. My name is y/n, assassin of the Night Court. Mate and wife of Azriel.” Y/N proudly states.

“I-it’s lovely to finally meet you y/n.” Feyre stutters out.

This female infront of Feyre is terrifying and ethereal. Feyre already knows she is lethal and all thoughts she had prior of how Elain and Azriel were perfectly matched go straight out the window. She can see it now…why the cauldron makes the pairings it does.

Y/N stands to her full height but all playfulness she exuded before is gone.

“I know you did not know of my existence until just now…so for that reason alone I’ll let your comments slide. But Azriel is MY mate and the saying ‘if I can’t have them, then no one can’ is very much the saying I live by when it comes to him.”

Feyre can only nod her head dumbfounded.

A second later shadows envelope the room. More lively than Feyre has ever seen them.

Azriel soon enters with a confused Elain in tow.

When Azriel lays his eyes on y/n, Feyre can quite literally see the tension leave his body.

“Sweetheart.” Azriel speaks so softly. He rushes to y/n and envelopes her in a hug that looks like it would hurt.

“Hi love.” Y/n whispers back just as soft and leans her forehead against his.

It’s an intimate moment that everyone else in the room feel like they are intruding on.

But one moment the feared shadowsinger and his mate were there…and the next gone.

Rhysand releases a breath that he had been holding.

“Well that was y/n. She’s half high fae and half witch. The people of Prythian call her Nightmare because fae parents tell their children if you don’t behave she’ll come in the night while you are sleeping and take you to her dungeon. Which isn’t totally untrue…it’s just criminals and murderers that she takes to her dungeon. You won’t see her or Azriel again until maybe two or three months from now .” Rhysand states.

“What? Where will they be?” Elain finally speaks.

After witnessing all she just had she can’t say she’s not a bit disappointed. It was obvious what you were to Azriel.

“Oh they are going to pick up their children from Azriels mom’s cottage and spend the rest of their time at their home.” Rhysand throws out casually.

“THEY HAVE CHILDREN? Rhysand what else have you conveniently left out?!” Feyre berates.

“….well I think that’s it honestly. OH they have a pet wolf who is very protective of the children. Also my niece and nephews, they enjoy tormenting people in different ways than their parents…mental manipulation. Just lock your mind up real tight around them. God I love them and proud they are all daemati like me but they once convinced me I had a thing for Beron for over a week until y/n realized what they were doing and made them release my mind.” Rhysand annoyedly admits.

Elain and Feyre can only stare at him in shock. He simply shrugs his shoulders like it was normal and walks off.

Elain breaks the silence and turns to Feyre. “I think y/n is going to end up being best friends with Nesta.” the two break out in giggles and they honestly can’t wait to see that unfold.

[freyjas-musings-deactivated2025]

Gwyn and Az getting into the festive spirit ✨️

Repost Not Allowed

Characters by to Sarah J Maas

@aggiedraws .... my friend and one of the most wonderful people I have met in this fandom, you are so talented , spirited and full of positivity .... Your friendship means the world to me ... thank you for feeding our hearts with exquisite Gwynriel content and more importantly thank you for agreeing to do this commission for me 🤗🤗... I am in love with how cozy they look 😍

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Cassian: I love sleepovers!

Azriel: This isn't a sleepover, you're in the hospital.

Cassian: Then why do I have this nightgown?

Azriel: That's a hospital gown.

Cassian: Truth or dare?

Azriel:

Cassian:

Azriel: [Sighs] Dare.

[thememedaddy]

[bookishbishhh]

I just need everyone to see this absolute masterpiece.

[velidewrites]

Cop: You’re getting a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle Feyre: Shit Rhys: Wait, three? Cassian: OH MY GOD AZRIEL FELL OFF

[yazthebookish]

Extremely thrilled to finally post my big feast for @gwynrielweeksofficial 🖤 enjoy!!

Commissioned with Artcraawl (here)

[sageofthegalaxy]

It's a trap.

[au79burger]

[sydneymack]

Lucien Vanserra - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Artist: @kri_stasss_