mii

give me sum valium and ill give you some smutty writing

[valneedsvalium]

valley ༒︎ 9teen ༒︎ she/her ༒︎ raging bisexual ༒︎ writer for fun ༒︎ student

masterlist here

MDNI BLOG.

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[letterful]

[bitbugbites]

virginity headcanons !

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

how some of the RE men would take your virginity !

characters:

╰┈➤ albert wesker ╰┈➤ carlos oliveira ╰┈➤ chris redfield ╰┈➤ ethan winters ╰┈➤ leon s. kennedy (re2r, re4r, re6 & re9)

gender, cw, & tags:

╰┈➤ gn! reader ╰┈➤ nsfw, fluff ╰┈➤ loss of virginity, foreplay, and, well, anything generically sex-related

a/n: to everyone reading this, i hope you have/had a good day today! <3

albert wesker (any rendition)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

No, it wouldn't be important to Wesker if you were in a relationship or not first. He doesn't come off as the type of guy to believe the notion that first times are sacred.

Who initiates?

Probably you. I can't see him being too pushy/eager to have sex, as he seems like he would have a fairly tame-to-low sex drive, tbh.

Although, that doesn't mean he's against it or other displays of affection. He's just not horny 24/7 (for some reason, despite all of the smut that i've written, i am utterly and completely intimidated by the word "horny." this word is my achilles heel. i fear that i will never escape it's incredible power to make me want to fall to the floor and sob at its horrific-ness. however, today, i have powered through it for you, with only a few tears and trembles involved).

What kind of foreplay?

I feel like his go-to foreplay in this situation would be kissing and fingering, honestly. Very basic foreplay, nothing too insane.

He'd probably keep eye contact with you the entire time he fingered you, too.

How long does it last?

The entire ordeal, from foreplay to finishing, would probably last less than 30 mins. I feel like he'd be skilled at both foreplay and penetration itself, and would get straight to the point.

I also feel like he would try to be a little nicer and more sweet during your first as compared to any other time. Just as a courtesy thing.

I doubt he would drag things out/tease you too much for your first time, unless you wanted him to.

Is it good?

Yeah, it'd be good sex. Although, if you're a romantic, it might be a little disappointing if you have an idealized "first time" in mind.

Overall? Probably a 7/10. Somewhere between average to pretty decent sex.

carlos oliveira (re3r)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

If he knows you're a virgin? Yeah. If he doesn't know? Nope!

Tbh, I feel like he would forget to ask, and would just automatically assume you've done-the-deed before. Although, he'd probably figure out at some point building up to penetration, in which case, he'd most likely pull back and offer to get to know you better first.

Who initiates?

Could go either way. I can see him respecting that first times are important, and thus not bringing it up until you mention it or get overly touchy. However, he likely would try to gently tip-toe around the topic -- he'd make a lot of jokes about it, get a little touchy, put himself out there more by dressing or smelling nice -- all to gauge where you're at or to put the idea in your head.

What kind of foreplay?

Anything. Everything. Whatever you want -- getting oral, being fingered, sucking him off or fingering him (if you're into that) -- he'd do it.

HOWEVER. There would be some limits -- I don't think he'd do anything too crazy. He would try to keep it fairly vanilla for your first time. He'd tell you that he'd be willing to do whatever in the future (WITHIN BOUNDS...), but your first time should be like a 'trial period' or something like that.

How long does it last?

I feel like out of every other character on this list, sex with Carlos would take the longest. And most of it would probably be foreplay.

I'd also bet that he'd be able to last a good amount of time during penetration as well. He knows his limits, and if he starts getting close, he'll change positions or use some other method to prolong intercourse.

Is it good?

YES. I feel like if you like passionate, whirlwind-like displays of affection, then Carlos would be the best one for you out of all the other characters on this list. He knows what he's doing, and he knows where to touch in order to make you feel good.

Overall? Around an 8 or 9/10. He would not fail to sweep you off your feet.

chris redfield (re8)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

For RE8 Chris? No, probably not. If you want to go, he's ready -- relationship or not.

Who initiates?

In a lot of scenarios, most likely Chris. I see it being a very, "Are you ready yet? How about now?" kind of thing (dude's ready to get it ON).

What kind of foreplay?

He'd probably prefer having you give him oral. If you wanted something too, though, he'd be willing to do it -- fingering, oral, etc.

Not too into kissing -- he'd rather make eye contact with you while playing with you or touching you in general.

I don't think he'd make a big deal out of it if you wanted to do kinkier stuff for your first time. He'd likely go along with it, thinking that since it's your first time, and you asked, it'd be fine (he'd also probably be impressed that you wanted to ramp it up, lol).

How long does it last?

An average amount of time. Not too long, not too short.

Same goes for how long he lasts during penetration. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would try to hold his orgasm back, so when it comes, it comes. Although, again, it wouldn't be quick, either.

Is it good?

Yeah, it's not bad. If you're looking for someone to be a little more rough with you for your first time, then Chris is your guy.

Overall, it's a solid 6 or 7/10. Very average sex -- and if you do it again in the future, it's going to be fairly the same. Little to no difference whether it's your first time or...I don't know, billionth? :p

ethan winters (re7, re8)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

Yep -- partially because Ethan views first times as special, but also because he isn't the type to sleep around. He'd require a relationship first for both your and his sake.

Who initiates?

Ethan, and it's planned. I doubt he'd spring it on you, either -- the two of you would talk it out first, plan a date beforehand, and then after the date...well, you know (yes, I would like to preorder one sex please!)

What kind of foreplay?

Very romantic, sensual foreplay. Kissing, soft touching, etc.

I feel like he'd be open to the basics -- oral for either person (although he'd ensure you it's about you and he doesn't need it), fingering, etc.

How long does it last?

Anywhere from a normal amount of time to slightly more than what's to be expected. I feel like he would really take his time with foreplay, as well as go slow during penetration.

Is it good?

Yes! If you're a romantic at heart, Ethan's going to give you the best first time -- he's going to make sure he does everything right.

Overall, probably an 8 or 9/10. This dude's got it DOWN for deflowering mfs.

leon s. kennedy (re2r)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

...maybe. I'm gonna say yeah, just because I feel like he'd be a virgin at this point of time too, LOL. He seems like he'd value romantics and wouldn't really sleep around outside of a relationship unless he had very strong feelings for you.

Who initiates?

If you're in a relationship and it's been a decent amount of time since you started dating, probably him. He'd ask you about it and then...yeah.

However, if you're not in a relationship (and he likes you a lot), or you just recently started dating, it'll have to be you who initiates. He's a little reserved, so in either of these scenarios, he won't be the one to ask first.

What kind of foreplay?

Lots of kissing, gentle touching, neck kissing.

Would be fine with oral and fingering on either sides. Out of all the options, though, his preferred pick would be going down on you. Not just for you, but also because he seems like the kind of guy who gets off by seeing his partner get off.

How long does it last?

...oh brother. Anywhere from short to long.

Long because it'd probably take the two of you a while to figure out wtf you were both doing...

...and short because that man probably is not going to last long penetration-wise (LMAO, im so sorry).

He'd offer to go another round to make up for it, though??? Dw, one way or another, he'd make sure you still got off.

Is it good?

...it would GET good. But at the beginning? It's gonna be awkward and clumsy (don't worry, he's a fast learner -- in fact, it likely wouldn't take long in your relationship for him to get the hang of it).

Overall...I'm going to have to give the man a 6/10. I'M SO SORRY. He gets an A for effort, but buddy 'ol pal, that man is not gonna know how to wield the friend in his pants right off the bat !!!

leon s. kennedy (re4r)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

Still, most likely, yes. Less for his sake, more for yours. He's older now, and probably no longer a virgin, but you are. He's still a romantic at heart, and wouldn't want you to have anything less than special for your first time.

I'm also going to add that, despite him no longer being a virgin, he still doesn't really sleep around outside of relationships much. So, that's an added reason.

Who initiates?

Probably you. I think he would be hesitant initiating since he's experienced, and you're not. He wouldn't want to pressure you in anyway, or turn it into a "ticking clock" kind of thing. He's ready when you're ready!

I'm ngl, I think he'd also be a goddamn yearning mess while waiting. He'd want you SO bad, constantly having to hide his lingering gazes and hard-ons (and he wouldn't be very good at keeping it on the dl, either, LOL).

What kind of foreplay?

Again, lots of kissing, gentle touching, and neck kissing.

Wouldn't let you give him oral the first time. He's going down on you instead, and any attempts at pleasuring him are quickly denied with gentle redirection (picture him, like, softly grabbing your hands and placing kisses on the inside of your wrists. "Not for your first time. Let me do it instead, okay?").

How long does it last?

The perfect amount of time. Not too short, not too long. Just right.

He could go on for a while now that he knows what he's doing, but he doesn't want to overwhelm you for your first time. So, he does what he needs, and checks all boxes (no pun intended, LOL).

Is it good?

HELL yes. Unless, maybe, you're the kind of person who is more dominant, or mainly gets off from seeing your partner's pleasure. But even then, from all the patient waiting and yearning he's done leading to this moment, I don't think you'd be left with no crumbs, if you get what I'm sayin...

Overall, this is like, an 8/10. Big improvement from before.

leon s. kennedy (re6 - re9)

Do you need to be in a relationship first?

If he knows that you're a virgin? 100%, without a doubt, yes. Considering his age, and that you're probably a lot younger than him, he wouldn't feel right sleeping with you without being in a relationship first.

Now if he doesn't know...then nah. He'd be fine sleeping with you outside of a relationship (although, because of the age gap, I think he might feel a little guilty or insecure about his age...)

Who initiates?

Either person, but most likely you. In the case that it's you, I don't think he'd put up much of a fight. Like his re4r counterpart, I think he'd be a yearning mess, wishing he could be with you, but too scared to make a move. Except this time, it's because he's insecure about how old he is and how young you are.

If it's him...well, he probably couldn't hold back anymore. Maybe there was an inciting event, where you had to share the same bed, or he was scared he would lose you...either way, if he initiates, it means he's at his limit...

What kind of foreplay?

Well, if things came about naturally, then probably the very gentle, soft kind. Feathery kisses, whispering caresses, tender grabbing. Lazy and lasting oral. Slow and deep fingering.

If things came about suddenly...then it's going to be the fervent and passionate kind. I'm talking breathless kissing, light or heavy biting, oral and fingering that leaves you seeing STARS...all of that and more (good luck trying to MOVE in the morning!)

How long does it last?

Naturally? The perfect amount of time, like his re4r counterpart.

Suddenly? Then quickly. He's just not in the right headspace to be aware of how to pace himself. He is FERAL for you, and needs you now.

Is it good?

Either way, YES. Without a doubt, this man knows what he's doing by now.

9/10, and dare I say it, maybe even 10/10 (re6 & re9 Leon FUCKSSS!)

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[shesmycollaarr]

Another post bc I don't wanna write the fic // Feel free to take this and develop it further if you wanna, just tag me if you post sth w it 💕

cw: smut, dubcon, obsessive wesker, age gap relationship

Younger Wesker (about 19-20) who's new to Umbrella. He's smart and a prodigy but he's still young and 'fresh' when it comes to this world: adulthood, being a scientist, evil - take your pick. He knows what he wants, though.

He wants you.

You're in your late twenties, nearly a decade older than him. Senior researcher, his supervisor even, and infinitely more experienced in anything and everything. You barely pay him any attention (why would you? He's an infant as far as you're concerned, no matter how pretty those blonde lashes and blue eyes of his may be) but it only makes Wesker want you more. You're smart and confident and run that lab like the military. He wants to please you and impress you, yes, but not in a 'please pay attention to me, mommy' way but rather in a 'NOTICE me and how great I am, RECOGNISE that I am superior and give me what I deserve' way.

Not healthy at all lmao.

He tries to seduce you the old fashioned way but he's not as suave and experienced as older Wesker yet so he's not very successful at manipulating you so effortlessly. You reject him by citing that it would be unethical of you to do anything with him for more than one reason (age, general life inexperience, power imbalance bc of your position as his superior).

Wesker doesn't give up, though. He wants you and what he wants, he gets. He manufactures situations for the two of you to be alone a lot. Innocent touches and brushes of his body against yours - all innocuous and easily passed off as accidents. And then, one day, when you're working on an experimental aphrodisiac for Umbrella, Wesker does an oopsie and mislabels things. Purely by accident. Anyone could have made the same mistake, scout's honour.

You're sweating and panting within 20 minutes of exposure. The antidote is nowhere to be found no matter how hard you search for it. If you don't do something to lower your temperature soon, your heart will give out from the stress or your brain will start cooking in your skull.

You know what he did immediately, of course. You look at Wesker's carefully innocent, concerned face - a demon with an angel's face, that one - and you know he did this on purpose. But you don't want to die and the truth is... he's been running through your mind ever since you started spending more time with him and actually getting to know him. He is as smart as they say and he's brilliant. He's funny with a good head on his shoulders, more serious and responsible than you'd expect from most 20 year olds. It's still wrong because you're too old for him, you feel like a pervert for it, but he clearly wants this badly enough to engineer this situation so... what's the harm in it? Maybe once he sees what the fuss is all about with you, he'll be satisfied and move on.

You're sat on the lab table with your legs wrapped around his waist while he fucks you raw before you know it. He's good, he clearly knows what he's doing, and he's almost obsessive in the way he catalogues every sound you make, every reaction you have. He wants you to scream his name and won't let you come until you do. And he doesn't give you what the aphrodisiac makes you crave - being filled - until you promise to be his and stop running away from him.

He holds you to that promise, by the way. You're not getting away so easily.

[urdadsjailbait]

the boyfriend of the sweetest girl you know

[harlottuine]

thinking about ballerina!reader...

inspired by s7, ep16 of supernatural.

pink satin, bloch, capezio leotards, tulle, ribbons and bows, mint gum, a lipgloss stained cigarette, cupcake scented lipbalm

ballerina!reader who gets pulled aside by dean's gruff, somewhat intimidating persona after the death of her fellow, snobbish classmate who'd been found death in mysterious circumstances, her blood spattered across the entire studio.

he thinks she's going to be a real, stuck-up priss - sure, dean hasn't dealt with many ballerinas before, but he can only assume from what he's seen in shitty films - but when he catches her outside the studio while sammy looks at the scene inside the studio, eyes on the floor, dance bag on her arm, a plush, pink lip pulled between her teeth, he can't help but feel a little bad! she's so nervous, kind of awkward, that he almost feels sorry for her.

ballerina!reader is so confused about why he's speaking to her - and a little scared, honestly, because she wondered if the FBI can bust people for smoking pot. they can't, by the way, but it's something she is very scared of, because that's just the way he is.

when he talks to her about the death, she's so broken up about it that tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, and she brings the cuff of her sweater up to dry them. "i didn't like her, but, y'know! i'd never wish that on anyone," she'd sniffled, crossing her arms as if trying to shrink into herself.

there's no way this girl could do any harm, he thinks. how could she? dean, naturally, feels bad for giving such a pretty girl a scare, and at the end of his conversation, says: "i'm sorry if i worried you, it's just standard procedure. make it up to you?" smoothy, watching the girl shift awkwardly from foot to foot.

a beat, and then she answers him, shrugging, still sniffling, nose twitching a little, like some sorta bunny. "sure. okay. can you promise you'll find who did this to her?"

ballerina!reader goes home with a slightly better mood that evening, a mild smile on her face.

[jennsens]

[dreamersentity]

୨ৎ taking care of him.

ft. dean winchester x female reader. ⸝⸝ smut

summary. after how good dean takes care of you, you decide that it was your turn to do the same for him.

wordcount. 1.4k

warnings. explicit sexual content. making out. riding. unprotected consensual sex (p in v). oral (m! receiving). praise. mentions of nicknames such as sweetheart, baby, pretty, mama, good girl.

dean has always been good at taking care of you, especially during sex. the last couple of months with him have been quite productive — and honestly, borderline pornographic if were to say. he taught you little things that past relationships wouldn´t even dare comparing to.

after spending countless nights next to other women, dean had huge amounts of experience in bed — knowing the right pressure to apply on your tummy when you were close, or the way he flicked his tongue around your clit that made you see stars and heaven all above.

so in exchange of his great service to you so far, you decided you wanted to focus on making him feel good, taking your sweet time to please him & letting every deliberate touch show him exactly what he makes you feel.

you decided that tonight was your night, eyeing him already from the bathroom door as he laid in bed, back propped up against the headboard.

his eyes were fluttered shut beneath the weight of his arm, shirt riding up just enough to reveal the smooth line of his lower abdomen, the fabric stretching around his broad bicep deliciously.

a small sigh escaped from his lips as he totally relaxed into the bed, the heaviness of the day slowly seeping off from his shoulders.

the sight of him already made you weak to your knees, clamping your thighs together, desire rapidly coursing through your body as your heart thudded against your ribcage in anticipation.

you were quick to move closer to him, legs draping over his jean-clad thighs, sitting on his lap. he took off his arm from his face in a swift move, eyes widening as he let his gaze wander lower.

he licked his lips at the sight, taking in your barely clothed figure — the collar of his favorite zeppelin shirt slipping off your shoulder & a pair of cotton panties. fuck, you were a sight for sore eyes.

his hands travelled to your hips, keeping you in place as a smirk graced his face. you could already feel the bulge of his crotch grow tighter against his jeans, making him shift uncomfortably underneath you.

¨needy tonight, sweetheart?¨ he hums, hands creeping up your shirt, gently caressing the skin underneath.

¨dean..¨ you started, leaning closer to him with a slow roll of your hips, earning a small groan from him.

¨.. i was thinking..¨ you mumbled out, breath fanning over his neck, sending a quiet shiver down his spine. his grip on you grew tighter, tilting his head back to give you more access. ¨i wanna take care of you this time baby..¨

dean´s breath caught in his throat — a soft, ragged breath escaped him at the feeling of how your lips linked to his sweet spot, teeth grazing over the area. he couldn´t help but stifle out a moan, crotch rutting against your clothed cunt making you whimper against him.

¨mph, baby..´´ he rasped out, his grip keeping you flush against him as he let his fingers dig into your skin, rough and desperate.

¨you wanna take care of me, pretty?¨ he murmured, voice lowering to a huskier tone while he placed his hand on the waistband of your panties, slightly tugging at them.

you nodded against him, pulling away from his neck to look at him. he could already feel the neediness radiate off your body — cheeks flushed as your batted your eyelashes at him. god, how could he say no to you looking like that?

¨then take care of me baby, ´´ a beat passed, his eyes flickering to your lips. ¨show me how much you want me.¨

that´s all you needed before crushing your lips against his in a desperate kiss. he eagerly leaned into it, lips moving hungrily against yours as he deepened the kiss, tongue diving into your mouth and exploring every inch.

you were quick to discard what little clothing you had on, as dean followed suit. you positioned yourself on top of him, nails digging into his shoulder blades as you felt his tip rub against your folds, precum dripping down his thick shaft.

dean throws his head back as he moans — low in pitch and erratic — hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you´d run away. you lower yourself on him, whining as he stretched you out so fucking good, the girth of his tip kissing your cervix.

you rocked your hips back and forth, picking up pace as dean watched you from below, the scene in front of him downright sinful — eyes locked on the bounce of your tits and the moans that slipped past your lips, eyes watery and rolling back in pleasure.

¨fuckkk baby— you ride me so good mama¨ he groaned against you, hands fumbling with your tits as his gaze lowered to where the two of you connected, enjoying the way your pussy sucked him up while his dick abused your tight hole.

¨a—ah dean, m´ close..¨ you moaned breathlessly — a tight, coiling feeling tensing in your stomach while you continued humping on him. his grip on your hips never wavered, incoherent mumbles spilling from his lips as he felt himself tip over the edge.

¨go on baby, show me how good i make you feel¨, he cooed, lips attaching to your cleavage, ¨tell me how much this pussy loves taking my dick¨

you felt the air get knocked out your lungs as you came, waves of pleasure washing over you as your legs trembled around him, the length of his cock twitching inside you. he came seconds after, hips rutting into you, milking out every single drop.

¨oh fuck¨ he grunted, chest rising and falling as he watched you pull away, a rough sound catching in his throat at the sudden empty feeling. he paused — gaze searching yours, confusion written on his face. ¨sweetheart where are you—¨

you moved closer to the edge of the bed, propping yourself on your elbows as your hands went straight to his dick, making him hiss in pleasure.

¨fuck baby.. still need more?¨ he chuckled teasingly, a pathetic whimper leaving his lips as he felt your tongue glide all the way from the base to the tip, kissing it gently.

your half-lidded gaze searched his — all soft and doe-eyed as you gave him a sweet smile, a warm feeling gnawing at his chest. god, how he loved whenever you looked at him like that.

¨i told you i wanted to take care of you baby..¨ you rasped out, your warm breath fanning his dick as he whined at the feeling, his cock hardening against your hands.

´´mm and you are sweetheart, such a good girl f´me¨ a struggled moan bubbled up his throat at the feeling of you — slowly and deliberately taking him in, your lewd sounds resonating against his cock as you sucked him dry, tasting your arousal on him.

his fingers threaded through your hair, pushing you down on him gently as he felt you gag against his length. you could feel tears forming in your eyes, eyelashes wet and desperate moans leaving your lips — feeling him deeper inside you.

¨god, if you continue like that baby, you´re gonna make me cum—¨ he groaned, hips thrusting deep into your throat with raw need.

you could tell from his body language that he was close to reaching his climax, bobbing your head around his shaft while your tongue did wonders on his tip.

¨juuust like that baby, fuck— m´ so close¨ his heavy gaze found yours again, brows knitted in pleasure as he came on your tongue, eyes never leaving the way you swallowed him whole, salty liquid gliding down your throat.

you released from him with a ¨pop!¨ sound — a broken gasp escaping you. you felt how his calloused thumb swiped across your chin, picking up some of his release and pressing it against your mouth, eyes fixed in the way your tongue sucked him up greedily.

¨c´mere..¨ he panted, hooded eyes and a lazy grin plastered on his face while his hands crowded your face, drawing you closer to him — wanting, no — needing to feel you against him.

your lips sealed together in a messy kiss, tongues melting into each other as he tasted himself on your tongue — the feeling completely intoxicating, a small whimper arising from the back of his throat.

dean lets out a low, shuddering groan into the kiss, his hips giving one last helpless roll upward, chasing the contact even as you pulled away.

¨christ sweetheart¨ he breathed once the kiss finally broke, his eyes dark and hazy in satisfaction. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

he pulled you back down gently, forehead resting against yours, breathing you like he couldn’t get enough.

cybella’s thoughts⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡ yeah according to the lore he has to crack me before midnight or else i’ll go batshit crazy.

[harlottuine]

𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮!

✧.* note: it's been so long without him ! ... if three, hellish weeks filled with deprivation is long, anyway. he's just so tired of being without his lovely girl, and now that he's back from deployment? well, good luck! ✧.* warnings/an: not 100% chronologically accurate, this is my first post on this blog. reader is soldier boy's wife and comes from a fairly cushy life. he's a softie and lover. 18+ smut, thigh humping, slight degradation, mild use of 'daddy'. borderline porn with no plot, not proofread. intro of wife!reader wc: 915

───────♡───────

the weeks were unbearably long. three, long, boring weeks - twenty one days - where all you could really do is call some friends, walk around the house, stare out the window. you really did try to occupy yourself, you did! it was so unbearable, though. the second week in, it started to get a little easier in the sense that you found more to do with yourself: cook, clean up - jesus, ben would accuse you of some shit like 'nesting' if he saw you like this - take more care of yourself. the closet saw an influx of silken nightdresses and sheer nightgowns, and they joined the ones that ben loved to see you in.

he was meant to be gone for more than a month, really, on deployment in payback with all of those people who he titled gracefully "idiots," "fuckin' ingrates," and "embarrassments to his country." when he'd told you how long he was going away for, you'd whined and he'd told you to stop throwing a bitch fit. you'd hated him for a solid ten minutes before he walked out of the door and you felt very sad, and very empty.

halfway through the third week, though, ben couldn't stand it. his poor, lovely girl is home with nothing to do. every night, he thought about how needy and sad you must be, empty and alone - maybe he was exaggerating things for his own benefit, considering how much he loved you when you were desperate in that nice, 'wide eyes, downturned lips, pleading gaze' way. that was a good one, for sure; he wants it as a polaroid in his wallet.

...and so, he just had to go home early. payback's highest paid idiots could do fine without him, considering they barely knew how to listen to a single instruction without him screaming it in their deaf ears. that's why he came home, y'know, for you.

it's such a nice sight - a damn refreshing one - to see you swaying around the bedroom, your hips doing a careless side-to-side, your arms raising, dropping, your neck rolling. it's so nice. the record that's playing skips, and you're broken out of your lazy stupor by the creak of the floorboards, and the unmistakeable sound of ben's boots hitting the floor. you turn, and you watch him stand in the doorway, a sleazy, fond smirk on his face.

"ben!" you practically squeal at him, a grin lighting up your face, and wrap your arms around him, going up on your toes to pepper his face with kisses. he picks you up, hands settling under your ass.

"you missed me that much?" he murmurs, one hand coming up to grab your face so he can kiss you on the mouth, his stubble scratching your cheek. "this is such a nice greeting, baby."

"missed you so, so much, daddy." you affirm, and don't complain as he sits on the couch, taking you with him so you're perched on his lap like some comfortable, bright-eyed kitten.

he laughs against your mouth; it's a rough, amused sound, slightly condescending, and it makes you feel so warm inside, and your press yourself against his thigh, lips parting so he can run his tongue against your teeth, your gums, your own tongue. ben was a filthy kisser. "lookit you, sweetheart. are you that pent up that you need my thigh? yeah, go on. c'mon, honey." and then, muttered, fond. "fuckin' mutt."

you do get yourself off on his thigh, rubbing your already slick, panty-covered cunt against the rough fabric of his pants, your face buried in his neck as you whine pathetically. his quiet murmuring - obviously meant for you to hear - goes straight to your head, and you nod stupidly, wordless.

"yeah?" he answers your weak nod, a hand guiding your movements, letting you rut against his thigh, pushing you forward harder than he lets you move back. "fuckin' close to soakin' my pants, hon-" and then, tutting as you slow your movements, his hand dips lower, right between your thighs, cupping your clothed cunt. "-real fuckin' close. you're leakin' like a faucet, slut, and i haven't even done nothin' yet. c'mon, show me your face. attagirl..."

your head comes up from his neck, your face flustered and your lips parted. your chest rises and falls rapidly, shimmering with the beginnings of sweat. "feels good," you mumble, hands grabbing at his shirt to drag yourself closer to him. ben's hand comes up, up, squeezing at your tit through your nightdress without shame, thumbing at your hardening nipple.

"i know, honey. i know, it always feels good with daddy, doesn't it?" he coos, and you whine in response as he bobs his leg under you, making you jolt a little, cheeks pinkening. heat builds low in your belly, tight like a band, and it makes your thighs tighten and your mouth hang open.

"c'mon, needa get an orgasm outta you before i can fuck you good."

your body agrees, clearly, and you feel the warmth build, and you writhe against him as he holds you in place firmly on his thigh, moving you. your orgasm feels like the first in, well, weeks - which is true, it kind of is. your eyes squeeze shut, and the slick between your thighs becomes more sticky, more uncomfortable as you ride it out on

ben smiles at you lazily, kissing the side of your face. "there we go, that's so good. you did good, honey."

[bruisedfig]

ik you’ve written fauxcest for soldier boy before but can you pretty pretty please elaborate on how he’d be worse about it 🙏

( in reference to this post ) cw: fauxcest — reader is 18+

okay, so stepdad!soldier boy just straight up thinks he’s your dad, and so he acts like it to a sickening degree whenever he can. he takes great pride in people thinking he’s your biological father, and even greater pride when the word ‘dad’ mindlessly slips from your lips in front of anyone.

he drones on and on about his little girl and how lucky he is to have been able to step up as a dad, despite himself. the twinkle in his eye as he talks is almost believable; it’s the same speck a real father would have for his daughter, except both you and ben know you’re anything but that.

“c’mon, baby, tell daddy what you’re feeling,” he pants out, breathing heavily into your fucked-out face from above.

you whine loudly from your agape mouth at the brutality of his thrusts and how quickly his words minimise you into a soaking mess. that pathetic sound is the best you can do.

ben tuts, not slowing his pace for even a second. “kid, i asked you a question. a little baby noise ain’t an answer.”

you gasp, hips flailing up off the sheets, chest rising and falling. “feels s-so good,” you brokenly sputter out.

“yeah, i’m makin’ my daughter feel good?”

he says it with such an intensity, like there’s truth to his words, like you are his daughter, despite the lack of biological attachment between the pair of you.

“fuckin’ answer me. tell dad how good he feels in his daughter’s cunt. you’re fuckin’ squeezing me like you want me to fuck a sibling into you. needy fucking kid.”

he knows he’s a messed up man… and an even worse father figure, but what’s he supposed to do when you look up at him with stars in those sweet teary eyes?

[cujja]

Cold Snap

You're giving Dean the cold shoulder, but circumstance forces you to thaw.

Part 2 of Dog Days Warnings/tags: enemies-to-fuckers, John's amazing parenting, Dean epitomising 'he's only teasing you because he likes you' philosophy, so toxic masculinity, teasing, sex for warmth (but not actually), pinch of humiliation, unprotected sex, Dean being a shithead (affectionately)

You hadn't liked Dean since you were kids.

He was loud and disruptive. Boisterous. Would needle you incessantly until big, fat tears welled up in your eyes. He'd jeer, call you a baby, to which you'd fiercely object with a pitchy, tight voice and run over to tell tall tales to uncle Bobby. Dean'd get all sulky and kick your shin under the table at dinner, or hide your favourite teddy under the basement stairs he knew you were afraid of, or sneak bugs down the collar of your shirt.

You were often carted off to uncle Bobby in the holidays. He was uncle by association, not blood, but same difference. And sometimes, while you were there, the Winchesters would be in town. John would only ever go as far as the welcome mat and he left his car engine running. He never stayed for long. Only long enough to drop off his sons, then he was off without so much as a kiss goodbye.

Sam was a few years younger, quite shy, but you liked him. You spent a lot of time parked at the kitchen table, drawing together side by side. Dean didn't draw. He dismissed it as too girly. He grubbed about in the dirt, and rough-housed, and ate worms, and was always sporting some kind of bruise. The quietest you'd ever seen Dean was when John caught him pulling your hair, and he'd thwacked him round the back of his head.

You didn't like Dean as an adult either, and you certainly didn't like him right now.

"You're such an idiot, Dean," You bristle as he fumbles haplessly with the ignition. Baby's engine sputters, coughs, then falls dead silent. He turns the key again, and this time, the car doesn't even bother spitting out a wheezy noise, "I told you it was going to snow, but no, you just had to tempt fate, didn't you?"

He sneers at you, "Oh, talkin' now, are we? Thought you were ignoring me."

You purse your lips together, sour-faced. Dean's been on the receiving end of your cold shoulder since Arizona. So much so that Sam felt an intervention was needed, like when you were kids and Bobby would make you hug it out. Instead, he'd handed you two a case and told you to sort not only it out, but also whatever issues you had as well.

It hadn't worked so far. Without Sam playing mediator, your investigation was sluggish. Your stakeout seemed promising, until Dean forgot to check the forecast, and now the car wouldn't budge an inch. Baby wasn't built to drive through blizzards.

You could see your breath start condensing in the air. Shivering, you cram your gloved hands deeper into your pockets, but it does little to combat the chill seeping in. Dean's bent over, head shoved in the footwell, trying to spark some electricity by tampering with the wires.

"You'll electrocute yourself. Stop doing that," You chide from your seat, looking rather skeptically at him. Dean doesn't listen to you, because he never has, so why would he start now. You yank him back by his shoulder, "Dean, stop it. We're stuck, okay? We'll have to...I don't know, wait it out? We'll go looking for help when the snow eases off.”

Reluctantly, he obeys. The wind howls, whipping through the trees with enough force that the car quivers. That's not as bad as the cold, though. It's fucking arctic. You bring your knees up to your chest, flouting Dean's rule about no shoes on Baby's leather.

He slumps in his seat. Defeated. He likes to keep active, stay preoccupied. Dean's never been good at sitting in silence. His fingers reach up to pull absently at the amulet around his neck before he lets out a loud, agonised sigh.

"I'm freezing my balls off here," He whines, shifting to be lounging against the driver's door, arms crossed. Dean rubs his hands together in a bid to generate some warmth, "You're cold too, I can see your nipples."

You self-consciously scramble with your zip until it's tugged all the way up to the top and shoot a glower his way, "You're such a fucking perv."

Dean sniffs, unconcerned, "I was just sayin'. And what's the big deal? You've let me touch 'em, but you draw the line at me looking at 'em? How's that work?"

You wince. You hadn't talked about the Arizona incident. Dean got the hint it was off limits when you'd said as much by hastily leaving the bed once the moment passed and sleeping on the sofa. There wasn't much to say, anyways. It'd been a flash in the pan, a one time thing.

You had no interests in being Dean's hunting partner by day, fleshlight by night. Even with his stupid gorgeous face and rough-hewn hands, he was still Dean. The very same Dean that'd given all your barbies atrocious bowl-cuts when you were ten and ripped them apart limb by limb.

Other, braver women were welcome to him. You weren't even going to touch that basket of snakes. Dean's complicated enough as a tenuous friend, but as a boyfriend? Perish the thought.

Stubbornly, you cast your gaze out the window, staring daggers at something unfocused in the distance. You weren't even going to dignify that with an answer. Plus, your teeth were chattering too much from the cold to speak, and your brain was focused on retaining warmth than formulating a facetious comeback.

"C'mere," Dean's hand loosely wraps around your wrist, trying to coax you towards him over the console. You're more confused than exasperated by his antics now and frown at him. He huffs, as though you're being the difficult one, and pats his thigh, "Come sit. We can, you know, share body heat and all that."

You scoff, but you don't pull your arm away just yet, "Share body heat? Yeah, I can guess what that's code for. I'm not falling for that one."

Dean's lip wobble with a smirk, but he wrestles it down, shaking his head and refusing to drop your wrist, "Usually it would be, but I mean it literally this time."

You remain firmly in the passenger seat. Dean lets your wrist rest across the console, but his fingers remain. He swipes a thumb over your knuckles and even through the thick material of your gloves, it prickles your skin. Dean gives you a surprisingly meek smile. Not a grin, or a smirk. A smile, and it's a rare sight.

"No strings. Just keepin' each other warm, I promise. I'll keep my mucky paws to myself."

Contemplatively, you run your tongue over your teeth. Dean's always ran hotter than you. In torrential downpour, he'll still have one of Baby's windows cracked, insisting the car's too stuffy without it. You know you'll probably regret it once you've warmed up, but you relent.

You carefully manoeuvre yourself over the console with Dean's hands supporting you. They didn't stray, didn't steal a chance to brush your ass. They just kept to your waist, tentative and there for balance. You don't know whether you wanted him to keep his word or not now.

Just because you haven't spoken about the Arizona incident doesn't mean you haven't thought about it. You have. Ceaselessly, shamefully. For as cursory as it was, it was good sex. The best, even. You'd known he was a good lay from his roster of girlfriends, but word of mouth didn't do him justice.

You don't usually bother taking the risk in getting yourself off on the road. Every time your hand snuck its way down your stomach and to the crevice of your thigh, one of the boys would make a noise in their sleep and it would throw the moment. Since Arizona, with the promise of Dean being so close, that ache between your legs became impossible to ignore.

It was flaring up now as you, sheepishly, let Dean position you on his lap. You'd alighted yourself as far from him as you could get at first, but he'd merely tutted and scooted you closer. Til you were chest to chest, stomach to stomach, crotch to crotch. You couldn't think about the last one. It'd make you do something silly.

"Can't keep you warm if you're all the way over there," He grunts, a hand settling at your hip and the other coming to the back of your head to lightly encourage you against his shoulder. You conform with little protest, "There. Comfy, comfy. Warmer already."

You wouldn't go as far as comfy given the fact you were as tense as a coiled spring, but it wasn't awful. The smooth leather of his jacket's collar tickles your cheek. Dean smells like a man, like how you'd expect one to smell. It's not an aftershave either, because he thinks the whole industry's a scam, it's just Dean. Something smoky and sharp. Like vetiver or cedar.

And you're resigning before your pride can stop you. Your arms wind around him, nose finding a home for itself at the slant of his neck. He smells most potent there, and its heady. You can tell he's startled, but Dean's versatile and he quickly takes it in his stride, chin perching on the crown of your head.

Something virulent rears its head as you feel his breathing slow, content in your presence. How many other women have been in your stead like this with him? Sharing body heat - what a line. Bet he read it in some sleazy tabloid somewhere. No way that's an original line, and if it is, that makes it even worse.

You're locking up, preparing to shrink away. Dean's the picture boy for emotional unavailability. You don't need to be getting involved with him anyways, even if it's just sex. People can pretend they won't attach strings, but someone always ends up getting hurt, and you're not letting yourself be that someone at the hands of Dean Winchester.

As you try to pull back, hands on his shoulders for leverage, he only clings tighter. It's like he can sense your train of thought, "S'only weird if we make it weird, right? Nothin' wrong with two friends keeping each other warm. It's just...practical." He clears his throat.

Practical. You turn the word over in your head. You can stomach practical, "Yeah. Yeah, practical. I'd do the same for Sam."

Dean makes a funny noise. You're staring at the seat's headrest, so you can't get a good read on his expression. If the flexing of his fingers at your hips is anything to go off, though, you'd be inclined to believe he wasn't all that fond of the thought of you and Sam like this. Dangerous thought.

"Mhm, just practical." He echoes, hushed.

You don't know whose hands wander first. Whether it's his fingertips ambling underneath the bottom of your coat, up your spine, or yours sailing over the broad plane of his chest. Dean's got a good chest, after all. You're only human. It's warm, and solid, but still with enough give to make him feel safe. Because at the end of the day, you do feel safe with Dean.

Even when you were little. He'd tease you unremittingly, but was always the first to jump in if anyone else had the same idea. He'd kick your shin under the dinner table, but patch up the scuff after. He'd hide your favourite teddy, but come with you to fetch it in the dark. He'd put bugs down your collar, but would apologise wordlessly by sharing his chocolate with you.

You maintain the idea that if you don't kiss him, and don't look him directly in the eye, it doesn't count. It's fallible logic, but it's a loophole you're willing to exploit.

Dean snags your hand that was roaming over his chest, and for a split second, you dread he's got more of a backbone than you and that'll he'll stop this in it's tracks, but he directs your palm to cup the bulge straining in his jeans. He's only half hard, and yet he's still sporting an impressive package already.

With his hand atop yours, you press down, grinding the heel of your palm against his cock. Accompanied by a twitch, he lets out a gravelly moan, "Yeah, shit, just like that."

You withdraw from the crook of his neck, eyes traveling from his lap to his face. You really, really like him like this. Blinking down at you through his lashes, eyes hooded, the fledging of a grin twisting over his pretty, pink, pouty lips. And you want to kiss him. You cover his mouth and hold up a finger.

"I'm only going to kiss you 'cause my lips are cold, okay?" You preface, and while Dean's not given enough time to process it, it covers your back. You kiss him. Hard.

Of course he's a good kisser. He plays tonsil tennis with just about every woman who'll give him the light of day. You don't want to think about that, not when he's requiting with such tender ferocity. Not when his fingers knot in your hair, clutching at it like man does his raft at sea. Not when he's so eager to keep your lips to his, he's barely taking any breathers.

"Whatever you say," Dean murmurs, grin burgeoning against yours. He drags you closer and, even through denim, you can feel the head of his cock notch your inner thigh. His hand migrates from your head to your cheek, angling you to his liking and deepening the kiss, "Anything to let me feel that sweet, lil' pussy of yours again."

He punctuates that with a buck of his hips that, somehow, hits his mark perfectly. It provides some delicious, frustrating friction to your drippy cunt. Whereas before you would've killed for some heat, but as it gathers, syrupy and muggy between your thighs, you're wishing he'd just strip you of your jeans already.

You both surface for air, lips brushing, as though loathing to be apart even for a moment.

"Just for warmth." You clarify. Dean's eyebrows furrow, cynical, but he nods eventually.

"Just for warmth." He reiterates. You're both big, fat fibbers.

His mouth relocates to your jaw, peppering sloppy kisses down the gradient of it. You yelp when his teeth make an appearance to nip the lobe of your ear. While he's absorbed with sucking bruises you'll worry about later into your clavicle, you're pawing at his belt, ripping it open like it's personally offended you.

Right now, it had. It was keeping you from the fuck of your life - which was strictly for warmth. You tear his underwear down far enough to wrap your fist around his length. You feel and see him jerk aimlessly in your grip.

"Fuckin' - gentle, woman," Dean hisses, head flagging against the headrest, eyes fluttering. His hands clumsy as he smooths back the stray hairs that have stuck to your sweaty forehead, "Gotta treat Dean junior gently, alright? Not like a fuckin' matador on a mission. He needs some sweet loving."

You cant your head, amused, "He's gonna get no loving if he's not careful."

His cock pulses underneath your fingertips again. Dean's got a petulant rumple to his lip, but his dick can't lie. He likes you bossy. The steady rivulet of pre-cum can attest to that, "We'll see how fuckin' cocky you still are when I'm balls-deep in that cunt of yours, won't we?"

That reminds you. He jumps to protest when your hand retracts from his cock, but is soon clambering to assist you in peeling off your jeans and underwear. It's a bind in such an enclosed space, and you almost set off the horn, but your jeans are discarded in the backseat soon enough.

You don't have long to worry about the chill nipping at your thighs before Dean's palms splay across them, jaw tensing with the remnants of restraint as his thumbs stroke over the crease of your hips. Crudely, and without so much as a hint to his intention, he prods three fingers to your entrance. Not breaching, not poking, simply gliding over the spongy skin there in a way that has you writhing.

"Dean." You breathe, bracing yourself with a hand to his bicep. His gaze isn't diverted, it's honed in on your cunt like he's transfixed. His fingertips are agonising in their traversal. He's purposeful in the way he avoids bumping over your clit, or past the ring of muscle of your entrance.

Once Dean's satisfied, he draws his fingers away and holds them up, victorious. He's got that shit-eating look on his face, "You're wetter than you were in Arizona," You're glistening all over his skin. You swallow, more than a little embarrassed at his recollection, and a fresh throb of arousal surges down to your pussy. He sedulously coats your slick over the length of him until his pre-cum and your wetness coagulates as one at the rosy head of his cock, "I haven't been able to stop thinkin' about it. Thinkin' about you."

The admission hits you smack bang in the chest. Dean's not finished, and his voice is only getting hoarser and hoarser when slides his tip over your entrance, "And it's annoying. You're such a bitch to me, but even that get's me fuckin' rock hard."

Winded, you edge closer, so his cock is pinned against your clit, "You annoy me too." You add insipidly, torn between watching him feed you the first few inches of him or the strained twinge befalling his features.

Dean exhales, "Yeah? How?"

You can't really think straight while he's skimming the underside of his cock over your cunt, the wet noise a fierce contender over the tumult of the blizzard outside. His free fingers squirrel up your front and jaggedly undo your coat, hand kneading over your breast, undeterred by your shirt in his way. You clench around nothing, much to your dismay.

"C'mon, sweetheart. You were so chatty earlier. Ain't even balls-deep yet and you're already fucked dumb." Dean croons, saccharine sweet. You aren't surprised when he deftly reaches around under your shirt to unclasp your bra. He doesn't even bother lifting your shirt before wrapping his lips around your peaked nipple.

The added layer of fabric scratching against you feels devastating. Your hand shoots to the back of his to keep him tucked close, chest heaving under the attention, "Does this annoy you? Teasin'? You always got so pissy when I flirted with you when we were little."

Your nails scrape over his scalp, "That wasn't flirting. You were just being a dick."

"Duh. How else was I s'posed to get your attention?" You feel a chuckle reverberate against your chest as he lathers spit over your nipple, pinching it between his lips. Shallowly, the head of his cock delves past your entrance, but it's hardly enough to scratch that internal itch. He keeps you there to relish in what little he's giving you, and how you're still dripping around him already, "That's just what little boys do. They tug on little girls' pigtails instead'a saying they like 'em."

Your fingers that were trawling through his hair teeter. Dean cranes his neck, still very much compressed against your breasts, but you can see enough of him. It makes your stomach lurch.

"That's not an excuse." You whisper, bringing a finger to ghost over his damp bottom lip. He cocks his head, much like a dog, and nuzzles into your sternum.

"You don't seem to be complaining now." Dean points out and emphasises his point by driving another inch deeper. He's not wrong, you aren't complaining, but that's mostly because you're stifling whimpers instead. You square your jaw, a clever retort evading you.

He waits until your mouth unhinges to kick up a fuss before filling your cunt entirely. You don't spew the profanities you were intending; a wanton whinge escapes your lungs in its place. He keeps you there, impaled and palpitating around him, while an arm wraps around you.

Dean noses your cheek, which has grown warm to the touch, "That's a cute fuckin' moan. Gonna make it again for me?" The thatch of his neatly trimmed pubic hair chafes your skin he's pushed so close. Dean's abdomen flinches as you try your hand at grinding against him. He's hasty to put a stop to that with a hand to the back of your neck, "Ah, ah, ah. My car, my rules. Moan again and you ride me. Go on."

You hate how he's cooing at you like you're a fucking unruly mutt. You hate it so much that it's come back the wrong way and is making you flutter around his girth.

"Touch me properly, then." You contend. You tried to come off as authoritative, but the wobble undermines you. Dean's teeth are bared as he smiles.

He cradles a cheek, thumb petting over the delicate skin underneath your eye, "Sweetheart, I am touching you. Gotta tell me where else you want me."

You harrumph, aggrieved, "You know where."

He's being more bull-headed than usual on purpose. You abhor the fact that it's working, too. That its lured enough slick from you to form a glossy ring around the base of his cock. Dean sucks his teeth, shaking his head, an aggravating simper brightening his face.

"Hm, alright, I'll bite," His hand travels down your cheek to engulf one of your breasts, giving it a toying knead. You wail and clasp at his wrist, trying to tug him down to your thighs, but he's stronger than you, "Not here? Okay, sweetheart, okay. How about here?" His next stop is not the right one either, but he knows that going off the haughty smirk on his lips. He pinches the muscle of your thigh.

"Wrong spot here too, huh?" Dean muses, savouring the pained and fucked-out veneer covering your eyes. Finally, at long last, he strokes over your clit. You, unwittingly, make that plaintive noise he was fishing for again, "There we go. There she is, there's my girl. Take what you need, baby, you've earned it."

You'd said something tangentially similar in Arizona. Your minds too fuzzy to appreciate it because he's just given you the green light. Graceless and frantic, you wrench his lips to yours. Anything to kiss away that impudent, pompous, handsome grin of his.

Dean's hands are stiff around your hips as he facilities your incoherent undulations. His fingers are liable to leave indentations, but you can't find it within you to care. All you can concentrate on is the thrust of his cock inside of you, catching on every divot and ridge, rousing every nerve, hitting every spot. He's everywhere.

Tongue lapping over yours, noses slitted together, fingers roaming any part of you he can get. Dean's all you can see, feel, hear and taste. From the shine in those striking eyes of yours and bassy groaning bouncing off the compact walls of the car, it's safe to say Dean's feeling the same way.

"You can't, fuck," He struggles as he retreats his cock far enough to kiss the puffed up lips of your pussy. Self-restraint has long since bypassed the two of you, though, because Dean's plunging back in before he can get another word out, "Don't pull an Arizona on me after this. It's a crime to keep this all to yourself."

Your forehead sags to lounge against his, lips parted and breath mingling with his, "...Okay."

You acquiesce so easily Dean narrows his eyes at you, wary, "Just like that?"

Maybe it's the oxycontin talking, maybe it's something subconscious, but you dip your head in affirmation, "Just like that."

His mouth overruns yours in an instant. You're both getting imprecise and lousy, breath staggering in your throats as it all becomes too much. You don't even need to sneak a hand down to your clit bump yourself over the edge. Dean's angle coupled with the deepness of his thrusts has you cumming together almost in synchrony.

If you weren't warm yet, your cunt definitely was now. His cum felt scorching. It was probably your active, concupiscent imagination, but you swore up and down you could feel him smearing over every crevice.

As he, with palpable unwillingness, detaches from your lips, Dean looks at you. Really looks at you.

"You gonna keep your word? Or you gonna go all frosty on me again?" He tangles a hand in your hair to keep you facing him. Good shout, because you were planing on turning, lest your eyes spoke more than you could ever admit to.

You squirm above his softening cock, which elicits a grunt from him. You wouldn't mind hearing it again, every so often, "Sam did tell us to work something out..." Shrugging, you trail off, insinuation clear.

Dean snickers, "I don't think this is quite what he was picturin'. Least, I hope not," He mouths at the hollow of your throat, murmuring onto your skin, "But, hey, if it works, it works. If all it takes to calm you down is a good fucking, I'm game."

And you were game too. You think.

[slaughtersafe]

cms

[jasvtsc]

all i want is to be michael!dean’s sweet little girl as he holds me by my neck wearing one of those fancy ass suits he got as i wear black satin mini dress to match my freak of a husband giggling and twirling my hair as he calls me a good girl

[deansbite]

　　　　𝒥𝒞　　｡　　drink up, angel

pairings　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　afab!reader x demon!dean winchester　,　angel!reader x demon!dean winchester

warnings　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　18+ mdni !!　kinktober (ish)　use of nicknames　use of "good girl"　unprotected sex (WRAP IT!!!)　p in v　guilt　degrading　demon!dean (he should have his own warning tbh)　mocking praise　consumption of (demon) blood　sorta virgin!reader (except the vessel isn't)　no prep　descriptive blood　dom!dean　sub!reader

summary　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　despite dean going missing and mysteriously reappearing in the bunker — the thought of him and you together wasn't as bad as you initially thought. Infact, you were probably attracted to it. Despite being the angel everyone expects to be perfect and innocent.

READERS POV

⏝ 𝅄︶ ͡𑁬 ⚠︎ ໒ ͡ ︶𝅄 ⏝

It was unusual. Well, the eerie silence that filled the bunker from top to bottom. Except for when you stood up and took a step. Every tiny noise echoed — you could drop a feather in the Deans empty room and hear it all the way to the library. That was because Dean had the Mark Of Cain and just so happened to die — which caused the fucking mark to turn him to a demon. Not because of possession, no, it was purely Dean controlling his body.

It was no biggie, because the boys got through thick and thin — except there was maybe a little problem.. It was that you guys couldn't exactly help Dean without Dean there.. present physically — right..? And that's exactly what your problem was — Dean was M.I.A. and nobody had a clue on where he was or with whom he was. And that had a whole search party out for him. Castiel, Sam, Jody, Donna.. every and any hunter would call if they saw him.

That lead to why you were babysitting the bunker. If a hunter called, you'd simply fly there. And Castiel couldn't do it due to some struggles he had with controlling his flying.. and none of you guys could afford a fail. You needed some good news. And you agreed so now you were left pacing around the bunker, every step you took echoing through the bunker.

The clanks of your shoe against the pavement weren't as quiet as you'd expected. It was like you could set off an entire earthquake with each step. God — you were so bored you were analyzing everything and observing to the point where you see things you never did before.

For example, you noticed the amount of books that had a bunch of dust particles on their spines, the top edges and at the bottom of them. And — there was one particular wooden plank in the library that when you stepped over, would groan. There was also a continious hum of the fridge whenever you walked into the hallway and past the kitchen. Which would fade out further down and come at a complete stop when you stood infront of Deans room —

Deans room. A frown settled on your face. You weren't familiar with the human emotions — but you presumed this one could be connected to melancholy you think it was. You've read about that somewhere. It was connected to sadness. But you shouldn't know how that feels.

Like, you were a full blown angel. You shouldn't feel human-like things. You weren't exactly on the rocky, terrestrial planet which was earth every single day. This was actually your first time being here for a longer period of time. All you knew before was that it was a solid and active surface with mountains, valleys, canyons, plains and more. But you never explored much and never felt the desire to do so.

Not until you ended up being asked by Castiel to come down a couple of times. And you agreed hesitantly, it incredibly strange. You were in a vessel, that could describe how you'd look if you were human. But you weren't human.. whatever, that wasn't important. What was important was that during the period where he asked for help, you popped in here and there or when the boys prayed. Not every single time because you had your own things to tend too. But they were grateful for the help.

Despite basically being put on the blacklist now for all the angels and heaven due to you deciding to help the Winchester's and Castiel, which both of them had a reputation of killing a bunch of angels — you felt like it was a sacrifice that was up to you to make. Which you felt proud of making. Because checking in here and there became normal and even something you looked forward too, helping everyone — and may or may not aswell as seeing the older Winchester.

You hadn't known or seen him — heard of, yeah but not met until you helped them out. He was a bit rough around the edges, extremely rude toward you at first — because he didn't trust angels. Which was understandable. With time, he warmed up enough to you to pray as a form of communication on occasion. You'd sometimes move around some objects so he knew you heard. You both had a thing that felt very dear to you. You genuinely would get concerned when you didn't hear from Dean at least once a month.

And you didn't know how to feel about it. Because you weren't human. You didn't have the mind to feel emotions, feel what humans felt. You felt numb to most things. It was a scary thing to experience, because imagine being a loyal and obedient angel — a favorited angel, who was also beloved by many. And then you became fond of humanity. All because of a single human. Hell, if you hadn't met Dean and became who you are today, you'd just consider squashing him like a bug. That's how weak he truly was in comparison to you.

But here you were, have you had an idea of what happiness was? Nope. Sadness? No. Anger? What even are these words? Aren't they just here to describe how someone is acting that? Because your perspective of emotions were blurry — because you don't know what they are enough to really care. You didn't have a grasp on what it was, really.

You saw nothing special about them. Until now. Standing at the doorway of Deans room. Pondering and reminiscing. Your eyes flew from one part of the room to another. The sheets untouched but slightly messy and they had the same note Dean gave Sam before he left on the pillow. His handwriting. He wrote it before he willingly left. You just stood there, unsure of what to think or feel. A moment passed before Deans scent finally hit your nostrils. The aftershave smell, his cologne, a hint of alcohol and a bit of a.. cigarette smell that you could tell just in the slightest bit that humans wouldn't tell.

A memory you had that stuck to you. It was one where Dean would put his duffle bag on his desk before lazily throwing himself on his bed, settling in and getting all cozy. Then you knocked, he'd sigh before telling you an almost inaudible little 'come in' and you'd enter. Dean would ask what you were doing before you asked him a couple of questions. And that night you guys spoke the entire night. It was fun.

You'd genuinely do anything to be able to have a repeat of that event.

A sigh escaped your lips before you made your way back to the library. Just to make sure that nobody called during the time you'd been busy daydreaming or whatever. Once you made it, your hands reached out and grabbed the smartphones, clicking their power button so they turn on, just to get nothing. You were about to just place the phone back on the flat, wooden surface — until you sucked in quite a deep breath, inhaling a familiar smell.

You were about to just brush it off as nothing when it got stronger. Your eyebrows furrowed and you blinked. Thoughts filled your head and you turned your head over your shoulder. Nothing. The distinctive smell started to subside. Okay.. maybe your mind was just playing tricks and you were just paranoid after Deans absence.

Until it came back. Hell, you might even have to say stronger than the first two times. And then it hit you. Aftershave, a cologne you couldn't ever put your finger on what it smelt like, a heavy stench of alcohol and smell of sex — jesus christ, the same hint of cigarettes. And you knew this couldn't be a paranoid joke. Your hands grip tightend on the smartphone.

The recognizable voice chuckled behind you. "Sweetheart, I know you know that i'm here. Don't be shy, show me that pretty face." His voice was mocking, maybe even straight up cruel because of how extreme the way he said it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you had goosebumps. You were certainly terrified — unknowing of what could possibly come your way when it came to Dean as a demon.

"I know you can hear me, c'mon. Pretty angel like you doesn't like to take orders? Hm? What if I was God? Told ya too obliderate all of humanity. Wipe the slate clean. Start over. Or told you to fucking look at me because I won't be asking another time." Deans — demon Deans voice boomed throughout the library. The old you would probably be ignoring him. But you weren't exactly 'the old you'. You were.. simply present you.

So, you spun around on your heels, your eyes taking a moment to drag up from his shoes. And then you met his emerald green eyes. Usually they were majestic and amazing to look at. But this wasn't Dean Dean. Because you saw his piercing eyes and the glint of dark, malevolent emerald green eyes. It left you speechless. And not in a good way. Nope, exactly the opposite.

"Uh huh, following instructions all proper. Makin' me feel all high and mighty, sweets." He let out a low chuckle, his eyes observing you. As if he had an idea that you were probably planning on just getting the hell away. He hummed, clicking his tongue. "Not too fast, Mary. We just reunited, I missed you real bad." He frowned — trying to impersonate being sad.

You just furrowed your eyebrows, clearly displeased. "What're you even planning on doing with me?" He shrugged, "That depends on what you want to do, sweetheart. I don't do shit without consent." You scoffed in amusement. "A demon refusing to do something without consent? What is this? A bad dream?" You quickly shut up when Dean simply glared at you. "I take that back." "Good girl." And that made your knees weak. I mean, fuck it was still the same looking same green-eyed man in front of you, with the same deep voice.

But it wasn't exactly him. You knew that. But was it bad a part of you just.. simply couldn't care less? "I don't want you to do anything." He simply let out a laugh. "Sure. You're a prude anyway, d'you even know what there is for me t'do to you? Like I don't know, show you what sex is, stick my fingers in you or my cock while i'm at it. Betcha would like that." You accidentally choked on your spit at that. "Huh?" You said between some coughs.

"Didn't ya hear me?" He asked, skeptical. A moment passed where you just stared at him, all wide-eyed. "I asked you a fuckin' question." He added, stern now. "Oh — I uh, no I wouldn't —" He didn't respond to that, just took step by step, every step slowly approaching you, the wooden floorboards groaning under his newly added weight. "Y'sure? You wouldn't want me t'just turn you 'round and slip in nnice 'n slow. Wonder if you're tight." You just stared at him, lips parted. He smirked, the right side of his mouth tugging upward.

He then decided to simply lean down, his head closer and closer to yours, lips almost touching. You felt his breath on your lips and he most likely felt yours on his. Your eyes slowly travelled down — they lingered over his nose with the small bump — then his cheeks and nose which had the faintest freckles dusted around and finally down to his plump lips. You cleared your throat. "Just say no 'n i'll leave y'alone." He spoke, his tone mocking as always. "But i'm sure an innocent, perfect little angel like you won't accept big, bad demon like me."

You just noticed him lean in closer, your lips basically touching if either you or him accidentally sneezed. "And? No complaints?" He chuckled, in a cruel way — which you hadn't noticed, but even if you did, you probably couldn't really care less. And he dragged it out, obviously. Just sucking in a deep breath, his eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips. You were sure you were slowly coming to a realization on what you were exactly doing.

But before you had any time to exactly protest, his lips came down, clashing against yours. His hand immediately touching you all over.. singular because his right hand was busy wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly to make your airway a bit tighter. But to necessairily cut it off. He chuckled when your lips vibrated against his because you whined in the kiss — but the kiss trapped the noise from being any louder.

"Thought you were a good lil' angel. Seems like the exact opposite. 'Cause I ain't gonna be nice, baby. Gonna bend y'over on the table, fuck y'all nice 'n good, make sure your brain s'all fuzzy 'n fucked out." He promised. Your lips were chasing his as you both had a hot and sloppy makeout. Deans left hand paused at your clothed ass, just squeezing before pulling away from the kiss.

"Bend over the table." He ordered, his right hand leaving your throat and his left hand hesitantly letting go of your ass before he removed it. "But what about the door anyone could walk i —" He shot you a sharp glare, not before blinking and when his eyelids lifted, his eyes were pure black. No iris in sight. Pun not intended. You gulped and just decided to stay intact before turning back around. Mind you, phone still clenched between your fingers.

Dean wasted no time, his hips ground against yours. Around four layers of clothes not providing the friction he gave. His hand went to your lower back before he slowly bent you over. He had a smug smirk on his face as to how easily you followed along with what he made you do. But you didn't see that because your eyes were currently focused on the bookshelves in front of you. All you could do was hear and wait patiently for something to happen.

And honestly — this whole situation escalated so fast it would probably be a blur by tomorrow. As if it never happened and you would be like those.. drunk people you've seen on the television screens and in bars. At least you hoped so, because you were sure fucking a demon wouldn't exactly be a list of things of what to do as a fucking angel. Besides, maybe it was just the way demon Dean attracted you. He was simply Dean.. just less Dean and add some.. more insanity to him.

You were wondering what Dean was doing before you looked over your shoulder, seeing Dean take in the view. Before his right hand landed on your hip. You trapped your bottom lip between your teeth. "Uh-huh, a moment 'go you were all whiny 'n bitchy 'bout me fuckin' ya but now you're all slutty, ain't that right?" He just raised his brows. You just rolled your eyes. "Oh? Gonna act all bitchy again?" He tutted, his left hand going to your hair and his fingers wrapped around a good chunk of your hair, he tugged on it.

"Anythin' ya wanna add?" He sneered. You shook your head. Despite being an angel, you still felt the burn of the hair strands being tugged on your vessels head. "No — no." You managed to get out, he seemed pleased enough. "That's what I fuckin' thought." He let go of the pieces of hair, but his hand shoved your head down onto the table. It wad harsh. "Don't move or I swear t'god y'won't be able too anymore."

And you knew he was not joking so you just let the side of your face rest on the wooden table, your hand let go of that phone and they travelled down to the edge of the table, your hands gripped onto it and you weren't exactly experiences in this — but Dean knew what he was doing. You at least assumed — because you weren't sure how this whole thing would go down. "Will this hurt?" "What'dya fuckin' expect?" His response was filled with irritation.

You wiggled your hips as you just heard his belt clanking as he undid it. All you could do pretty much is just wait because you did not want to disobey Dean. "Y'fuckin' want this, right?" He asked which he then grumbled something under his breath. You nodded before he rolled his eyes. "A fuckin' verbal response please?" "Yeah —" And he immediately continued with what he was doing.

You couldn't see anything so after a little, Deans hands went on your body, his fingers hooked underneath the waistband of your pants. His hands were warm in contrast of your colder skin. He tugged your pants down as fast as he could. He seemed like he wasn't planning on wasting a single second. Because holy jesus the 180 turns that keep taking you by surprise just keep going. You sucked in a breath when Deans fingers now went to your panties. His index teased your entrance through the thin fabric seperating them.

He then — without much warning pulled your panties to the side with the same index finger, his left hand gripping your hip and his calloused thumb after years of hunting and labor scratched your skin a little. You felt something tease your entrance. A gaspy breath escaped Dean from behind you. "Y'feel so wet. Hopefully s'enough t'act as lube." And then you felt him push in. His tip was in and you let out a moan, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled. "Jeez, baby. That fuckin' cunt s'suckin me in perfectly. Clenchin' 'round me real tight, too. Sad your pretty lil' vessel ain't a fuckin' virgin. Woulda enjoyed poppin' two cherries at once." He now pushed in deeper. His right hand went under your shirt, you just now realized because he was groping your boobs, his index and middle finger twisting your nipple as you let out a whine. "Fuck." You exclaimed.

"Real filthy. Never expected an angel like you squeezin' my cock so tight." He taunted, he bottomed out. Your walls clenched around him and relaxed before repeating that action, pants escaped your lips. You could feel every vein, the size of him and the way he almost split you into two. Dean boasted about sex all the time after he slept with girls. You never knew how right he was until now. Because jesus fucking christ you weren't expecting it to feel this good. You were probably zoned out because Dean spanked your ass. "Come back t'me, whore. Stick a fuckin' dick in ya 'n you'll become all inresponsive like a cock whore." He scoffed.

"C'mon, as I was sayin', open up that mouth." He ordered, still deep in you without moving. You fluttered your eyes open, his wrist right in your eyesight. He folded himself over you, his chest flush against your back. His right hand no longer teasing your boobs. Which was probably why his wrist was right in front of you. But it was because he had sliced his skin open a little under. "You're enough of a slut t'take a demons dick. I'll fuckin' move when ya suck on demon blood. Like Sammy, except a pretty lil' thing like y'does it. Drink up, angel." The crimson red substance was right in front of you.

Your eyes widened. "I —" Jesus christ. You were an angel getting dicked down by a fucking demon. You were in far too deep right now. You leaned forward slightly. "That's it, atta girl." He praised, you didn't pay attention to it if it had an underlaying cruel tone under his words. You just focused on the disgusting demon blood you were about to consume. Your lips wrapped around the wound, the iron — y taste immediately sitting on your tastebuds. That's when you didn't even have time to complain about the thick substance you swallowed —

Because Dean pulled all the way out — well, almost because his tip was still in you. Then he slammed his hips forward, you would've moaned had his arm — and blood you were consuming with some dribbling down your chin onto the wooden table — not been muffling you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. "Fuck, shoulda fucked this pussy a while 'go. Was actually thinkin' bout it." He panted and slowly started a harsh, relentless and fast pace from the get go.

You had time to adjust at the beginning, but now he was just careless, fucking away all and every thought you had. At some point, the table was shaking due to the hard thrusts. Your hips were probably gonna be bruised with the edge of the table digging into your skin.

You heard him groan and gasp behind you, a breathy chuckle escaping him. "So much for innocent angel."

That made you whine — well, as best as you could, still lapping up the blood that was basically like a faucet eacaping him. You were being fucked so good and hard — skin slapping against skin echoing — the light creaks of the table shaking and Deans pants were so incrediblely lewd and loud.

It seemed like there was no end in sight. Except you felt something build up in your abdomen — you weren't sure what it was. If you didn't know how to explain emotions, whatever this was you probably couldn't, either.

You were right there. Until the bunker door opened, your eyes widened and you were surprised Dean didn't even try to stop, he just hummed in amusement. "Hey! We're home —" Sam called out with Castiel whispering something to him. "Yeah — I know." Sam said — probably in response to Castiel. Before he started speaking up once more, his boots clanking against the metal staircase.

"Hello? Anyone home —" Sam's voice died in his throat when Castiels jaw dropped. "Oh." Your eyes flew to them as their eyes were wide. "Oh hey, look. We got an audience. Demon fuckin' an angel in front of their friends. Ain't that funny?" Dean kept going, not a care in the world.

You were fucking embarrassed. And that was for fucking sure.

⏝ 𝅄︶ ͡𑁬 ⚠︎ ໒ ͡ ︶𝅄 ⏝

I didn't proofread this shit and i quite frankly do not want too I HATE THIS SO SO MUCH but i gotta feed yall </3

tags: @pearlzier @fallbhind @beausling @deanswidow @gibson-g1rl @dollsltt

amab vers: im too fucking lazy for this rn...... leave me alone

[starg1rlpo3t]

i would let him rock my world

[infrqred]

70s soldier boy !

ben x stripper ! reader .

the vought suite that ben brought you into smelled of whiskey and weed, cigarette. there's a record player in the corner, needle buzzing out something heavy and distorted— zeppelin, sabbath, you don't care. what matters is the man sprawled across the bed like he owns the whole filthy decade.

soldier boy. the soldier boy. star-spangled relic of the war, america's golden boy. he's coked-up swagger and charming grins, his dog tag chain bites against your back every time you move.

you're in his lap, straddling him backwards, thighs burning, cunt stretched around him as you sink down hard. he's thick, brutal, filling you until your body can't help but tremble. his palm smacks against your ass, leaving a sting.

"christ, sweetheart," he groans, voice gravelly from whiskey and smoke. "you're fuckin' sloppy back here. thought you knew how to ride a cock."

your lips part to form a retort, but he doesn't give you the chance. his hand fists in your hair, jerks your head back, and two fingers are shoved between your lips. they taste of tobacco and salt and faint traces of gun oil.

"shut it," he snaps, watching your spit shine across his knuckles as he pumps them in and out. "there you go. that mouth's good for one thing— sucking me like the filthy whore you are.."

you gag, drool sliding down your chin, but the sound only makes him laugh— low, cruel, filthy. his hips slam up, forcing you to jolt forward, then down again, cock driving so deep you see stars.

"fuck, look at you. bouncin' on me like a fuckin' champ, choking on my fingers like a good girl. you were made for this. f'me," his words slur with arrogance, every syllable laced with cruel amusement.

Your nails dig into his thighs for balance, but he doesn’t care. He just thrusts harder, hand leaving your hip long enough to slap your ass, the sharp sound echoing in the smoke-hazed room.

"bet you're gonna cum just from this, huh?" he growls, grinding up inside you. "just from sittin' on my cock and gaggin' on my hand. pathetic. filthy little fucktoy."

your body gives out before your pride does—climax ripping through you, thighs quivering, your moans spilling helplessly around his fingers. ben's laugh is sharp, mocking, delighted.

"yeah, that's it. that's my slut. drippin' all over me, makin' a mess like the dirty girl you are." he curls his fingers deeper into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue until you choke again, until your vision blurs. "juuust how i like it. wrecked. ruined. fuckin' mine."

and when he finally thrusts up hard enough to spill inside you, he bites down on the back of your neck like he wants to leave his mark carved into your skin forever.

[spookedstarzz]

henry and richard are both performative males in the most literal sense because henry is performing his ideal of what masculinity should be and richard is also performing henry's ideal of what masculinity should be