Give me your sleepy kisses. Your legs intertwined with mine. Your head on my chest, fingers exploring my body. Give me all your dreams and vulnerability and know it’s safe in my heart.
@homoose let me dabble in the world of Teach Me Something I Don’t Know, which I cannot recommend enough. I started reading it this spring when I was feeling pretty crappy about my job (teaching pre-k), and it hit me in the feels in a really amazing way. So many warm fuzzies.
This is pretty tame; it’s sweet and a little sexy, but not smutty. Pure wishful thinking… I too wish I had a Spencer to come home to after one of Those Days.
580 words, PG-13.
At least she remembered her rain jacket. It’s only her jeans, purse, Chucks, and every freakin’ inch of exposed skin that get soaked.
Nothing quite like cold October rain to wake you up after one of Those Days.
She’s juggling her keys, purse, teacher tote, and a bag of auxiliary art supplies when Spencer opens the door, already holding a towel.
“I saw you come in,” he says softly, with a little half-smile. “Let me help?”
She just about cries with relief at that.
Spencer helps with the bags and the jacket. She struggles out of her wet sneakers and jeans, hopping on one foot and wrestling the waterlogged denim, and he only laughs a little bit. She can’t blame him for that. When she’s down to her panties and her oversized rainbow-striped sweater, he hands her a towel and helps her dry her hair.
Spencer leads her over to the couch and pulls her down onto his lap so she’s straddling him, and then he drapes one of the afghans around her shoulders, rubbing her bare goosebumped thighs where she’s all clammy from the impromptu shower.
She has about a zillion things to do, but she can’t make herself pull away.
Spencer kisses her forehead and then tugs her down into a hug. He just squeezes, and the warm reassuring pressure of his arms makes it a little easier for her to breathe.
“Long day?” he asks softly.
“Yeah. Little stressed,” she mumbles into the crook of his neck. “I have to make my costume this weekend, and the kids decided I’m going to be the crab from Moana, so I have to rig up claws, somehow, and the staff meeting was a mess, and— I don’t know.” She sits up straight and tries to get herself together. “Sorry.”
She feels like a drowned rat, but he’s looking at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen.
“The crab? Really?” he asks, sliding big warm hands under the hem of her sweater to curl around her hips.
“One of them decided Shiny was his favorite song, so now it’s everybody’s favorite song.”
She giggles as Spencer ducks to kiss the side of her neck; his hair tickles, and so does his mouth when he nibbles ever so gently at the sensitive spot under her ear. She lets out a long, shaky sigh as he kisses his way along her jaw to her mouth. Then his lips are on hers, and it’s soft and sweet at first, but when she lets out a contented hum and nips at his lower lip, the kiss turns into something deep and hot and head-spinning.
She’s breathless when she breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against his, unwilling to put too much space between them. Spencer’s thumbs keep sliding up and down the creases of her thighs, and his flush would be enough to give him away, even if she couldn’t feel how hard he is under her.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a thing for cartoon crabs,” she teases. She runs her fingers through his hair and gives it a light tug, and he makes this rough, punched-out sound that sends a thrill down her belly.
“I have a thing for you,” he corrects, voice cracking with the earnest emotion in the words. She shivers, and Spencer frowns. “Are you still cold?”
“No,” she whispers, pulling his hair again just to watch the way he shudders. “Not at all.”
“I saw you come in,” he says softly, with a little half-smile. “Let me help?”
I am already MeLtInG in a puddle of goo.
She sits up straight and tries to get herself together. “Sorry.”
Oof. Legit no one on the planet can’t relate to this moment. That’s bad grammar. IDGAF.
She runs her fingers through his hair and gives it a light tug, and he makes this rough, punched-out sound that sends a thrill down her belly.
I love the soft sweetness of this moment. How she knows him, and how to make him feel good. That comfort is such a chefkiss moment - in life and fiction.
I’d like to get in the queue for this person / Spencer to come home to.
Sub!Dean for @wingedcatninja, who requested something inspired by the actual fucking canon quote, “sometimes you just wanna get slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask.”
In related news, you will never convince me that Dean is not a subby subtastic sub.
329 words, explicit.
Dean grits his teeth, tendons cording under the skin of his neck as he tilts his head back, straining, gasping out your name. He’s got a mark on one cheek where you slapped him earlier, a bright shade of red that matches the set of scratches that your nails made down his chest, and he’s pretty as a goddamn picture.
Creature From The Black Lagoon (Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader)
Trying my hand at something new! For @princessmisery666.
Warnings for, um, tentacles? It’s goddamn Venom smut, you probably know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.
464 words, explicit.
By the time you stumble through the front door of the apartment building, you’re just about ready to cry with frustration, and Eddie’s not doing much better. He’s grumbling a steady stream of curses under his breath, and every so often you hear a raspy laugh in response.
1940s Bucky at a Halloween party! If you’ve never looked up 30s and 40s Halloween costumes, I highly recommend it. Shit is wild. Peep the bat wings and some other gems over here.
458 words, mature.
The dance hall is in one of the shadier neighborhoods of Brooklyn, but it’s packed to the rafters, full of cigarette smoke and sweaty bodies in an assortment of handmade costumes. You’d made a halfhearted attempt at a witch costume, but you lost your hat somewhere in the crowd. Some people have gone all out, wearing elaborate clown masks or hand-sewn bat wings.
Everyone loves an excuse to be someone else for a night.
Businessman!Steve and a sexy Halloween costume. For @cockslut-padalecki’s Eleven Sentence Challenge! Prompts were “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.” + Face fucking.
382 words, mature.
Steve needs to take a damn break every so often; he’s been at his desk all day, and he’s got that furrow between his eyebrows, the one he gets when he needs a reminder to unwind a little… luckily, you have just the thing.
Last one of the day! This is for @syntheticavenger‘s 8K Spooky Challenge; prompt was Hozier’s “Dinner and Diatribes,” and I totally went with the werewolf suggestion…
Warnings for a raunchy werewolf threesome, but there’s no sex in wolf form!
733 words, explicit.
The tension rises as the moon does.
One more night before the change, and you’re consumed by the animal need to fight or fuck. Luckily, everyone else is here for the same reason.
The party is in someone’s backyard, on the edge of the state forest, and it helps to have the open sky above you – the smell of grilled meat in the air – the company of your own kind. Nobody believes in the whole “pack” idea any more, but it’s more comfortable to be around other werewolves, this time of the month. They’re the only ones who understand the shameless, hedonistic madness that strikes in the thirty-six hours leading up to the full moon.
Vampire Spencer! Sexy biting, with a side of science.
So yes, obviously I had to use that picture. I’m not sorry.
604 words, PG-13.
“How do you want me?” you ask flippantly, and you pull your hair back, baring your throat.
Spencer laughs. “Contrary to popular belief, the neck is not the best place to bite. Lots of muscle, lots of pressure on that artery… it’d get messy, if I bit down deep. And I want to do this right.”
Trust him to make an anatomy lesson out of a cheesy line.
@jillys-feral-fandoms suggested “role playing as their Halloween costumes with one of the criminal mind boys.” Not role playing, more just playing, but. Still. Also, @fangirlxwritesx67 wanted “sexy costumes.” This is the first of several Halloweeny drabbles, stay tuned!
574 words, mature.
Spencer can’t keep his eyes off your legs. He blushes every time you catch him, cheeks going pink under the greasepaint whiskers, but he can’t seem to stop himself from glancing down at every opportunity. He looks awed and enthralled and innocent, nothing like the terrifying “Big Bad Wolf” he’s dressed as, but the open adoration on his face makes you feel giddy.
