♱

A bead of sweat rolls from his forehead and he nods his head at your words. It’s not enough for you and to tease him, you open your mouth and let his mushroom head feel the warmth of your cavern. Sam whines at the feeling, trying once more to jerk his hips toward you, but you don’t let him. “Use your words, you’re a big boy, aren’t you?” You voice at him, then.

“I am! I am! I just can’t use my brain right now with all your teasing.” He ends up saying and amusement appears on your face. 

“Interesting to know. Can you think when I do that?” You ask Sam before wrapping your lips around his bulbous, angry red and leaking tip. He cursed immediately, his head rolling toward the ceiling as you started to suck him off very slowly and gently. You hollowed your cheeks, pressed your tongue against his length all while moving your head up and down, his tip carefully hitting your palate as you tried to go deeper. 

Sam’s hands moved to grab the edge of the chair he was sitting on, his eyes closing tight so he wouldn’t come so fast.

After a second, his head rolled back, his eyes open so he could watch you as you were on your knees; one hand on his thigh while the other was wrapped around the base of his fat cock. The brown-haired man gasped, his mouth falling wide open as he watched you. “God, fuck—you make me feel so good… Please, don’t stop.” He whined at you, muscles contracting to stop himself from thrusting up.

Your own eyes looked up as you lowered your head again, now feeling his tip hit the back of your throat which made you gag and choke. You pulled away, a thread of saliva connecting your lips to Sam’s cock. You didn’t lose a second before moving your hand up and down his throbbing cock; teasing him with the slowest pace you could use. His thighs shook and he looked at you. “Please, please… I want to come so bad.” He only said, feeling his balls twitch from the pleasure he felt.

“Mhh, I don’t know… Already? That’s kinda pathetic.” You replied to him.

Sam didn’t have time to reply as you lowered your head back to his cock, wrapping your lips around his girth just so suck him off once more. You went faster now; hollowing more of your cheeks, pressing your tongue against the veins all along his shaft, deep-throating him until you gagged and needed air. It was messy—saliva leaking from the corners of your lips just to end up pooling at his balls. 

You hand keep jerking him off at the same time all while switching to rub and roll his balls in your palm for more stimulation. Sam was also a mess: whining and squirming on the chair, talking nonsense, body shaking. “Fuck, fuck! Your mouth is so good… I love it so much. Makes me feel so good. Please, can I come? Please?” He cried out to you, hazel eyes big and puppy-like, with tears at the corners.

You pulled away from his cock once more to jerk him off; now faster and harder. His balls slapped back on his thighs each time you lowered your hand, skin-slapping-skin and wet noises echoed in the room.

“My baby wants to come? You want to come in my mouth?” You asked him and his lips fell apart, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as you kept jerking him off. You could feel the way his shaft was throbbing in your hand, all wet with pre-cum and saliva each made everything more slickery. “Yes! Yes, please! I really want to.” He whined back at you, pleasure all over his face.

You hummed before going back for his cock, wrapping your lips around the tip for the third time now. But instead of lowering your head, you started to only suck on the bulbous head. Sam arched his back at the feeling, his biceps bulging as he tightened his grip on the chair. “God! Fuck, I’m going to come…” He groaned as you sucked on his tip, your hand still jerking him off; your tongue rolled on his mushroom head, teasing the slit.

He only needed a few more stimulation before coming with a loud groan. His load was warm and thick as he shot it inside your mouth and you immediately stopped your ministrations so you wouldn’t lose a drop. Sam’s breathing was labored and his cheeks were red.

His hazel eyes were half-lidded but that didn’t stop him from looking at your face when you swallowed his come. “You’re so pretty right now.” He ended up saying, all dizzy and cock throbbing while slowly softening.

“I’m pretty when I swallow your come?” You asked, amusement on your face and Sam shook his head.

“No, you’re pretty. You’re always pretty. Even when you don’t swallow it. I have no idea what I’m saying, my thoughts are literally in shambles.” He laughed, leaning back into the chair as you stood up, brushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. “You’re pretty too, Sammy. Especially when you come in my mouth.”

The words made him laugh again, rolling his eyes at you but his hands lifted to grab your waist, bring you closer. “I should do it more often, then?”

He doesn’t stare in a dirty way. He just looks at you like you’re comfort made real. Like you’re warmth, safety, and home all wrapped up in one person. Then he quietly scoots closer, careful not to put too much of his weight on you,

before lowering his head against your boobs with the softest, most relieved sigh you’ve ever heard from him. His cheek presses into the warm give of you, sinking in just enough for him to get comfortable, and the tension in his shoulders starts disappearing almost immediately.

Your boobs feel soft against his face, warm from being under the blankets, bare skin against his cheek in a way that’s intimate without needing to be anything else. They give beneath him gently, cushioning the side of his face while his nose brushes close to your skin and his breathing slowly evens out.

He makes a tiny pleased noise when he settles properly, the kind of sound that slips out of him before he can pretend he didn’t do it. You can feel the weight of his head there, not heavy enough to hurt, just present enough to make you feel needed. It’s sweet in the quietest way, the kind of closeness that makes the whole room feel softer.

“Ryland,” you mumble, trying not to laugh. “There are pillows literally right there.”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even open his eyes. He only tightens his arm around your waist and nuzzles in closer, his cheek squishing slightly against you as he gets comfortable like this is exactly where he belongs.

“Those pillows don’t have a heartbeat,” he says, voice muffled against your chest. Then, after a sleepy pause, he adds, “And they’re not warm. And they don’t smell like you. And they don’t pet my hair when I’m emotionally compromised.”

You snort at that, which makes your chest move beneath him, and Ryland lets out the most offended little groan. “Sweet girl,” he complains, though there’s no real annoyance in it, “you’re disturbing the experiment.”

“The experiment?”

“Mhm.” His hand spreads lazily over your side, thumb moving in a slow, absent stroke against your skin. “I’m testing the long-term comfort benefits of lying here. Early results are extremely promising.”

You roll your eyes, but your fingers still slide into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp because you know it’ll make him melt. It does. Ryland practically goes boneless against you, his breathing turning deeper as his body relaxes more and more into yours. His face is tucked against the soft curve of your chest, his lips barely brushing your skin whenever he shifts, and every few seconds he lets out a tiny contented breath like he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment.

After a while, you try to move just a little, mostly because you’re worried he can’t actually be comfortable like that forever. Maybe your arm is pinned weirdly, maybe the blanket is twisted around your hip, maybe you just want to see if he’s still awake. But the second you shift, Ryland reacts like you’ve committed some terrible betrayal. His arm loops tighter around you, not forceful, just clingy and dramatic, and he presses his face closer to your boobs with a sleepy frown.

“No,” he mumbles.

“Ryland.”

“No moving.” His voice is soft and thick with sleep. “You’re warm. You’re soft. You’re doing important work.”

You bite back a smile. “My boobs are doing important work?”

“Very important.” He finally cracks one eye open just enough to look up at you, his expression so serious it makes the whole thing worse. “They’re supporting scientific advancement. And also me.”

You laugh properly then, quiet and breathy, and he smiles against you like he’s proud of himself. There’s no rush in the room, no pressure, no wanting beyond the simple need to be close. Just Ryland curled against your chest, your hand in his hair, your bare skin warm beneath his cheek, and his body slowly sinking into sleep because he trusts you enough to let himself go soft.

Eventually, his words fade into little half-mumbled nonsense, something about optimal softness and emotional regulation and “objectively superior pillow design.” You keep brushing your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle, feeling the way his eyelashes flutter against your skin when he blinks himself closer to sleep. His breathing matches the rhythm of your heartbeat, and every now and then his fingers twitch softly against your waist like he’s checking that you’re still there.

When he finally falls asleep, he does it with his cheek still resting against your boobs and his mouth parted slightly, looking more peaceful than you’ve seen him all day. You don’t move him. You don’t even really want to.

Because for all his jokes and sleepy science talk, you know what he really means. This is where he feels safe. This is where the world gets quiet. This is where Ryland Grace, exhausted and soft and completely yours, decides he wants to rest.

© CUMKISSED ♡ | EST. JUNE 2026 ˎˊ˗ all original content found here belongs to me. canon material belongs to its respective owners. don't repost it, don't feed it to ai, don't translate it, don't archive it elsewhere, and definitely don't pretend you wrote it. ♡

“I know,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your cock already half-hard and aching in your jeans. Sam’s own erection was a brand against your hip, the denim doing nothing to dull the pressure. Dry humping like a couple of horny teenagers in the Men of Letters library. Christ.

Your free hand fisted in his hair, yanking just enough to make him groan, and you dragged him back up to your mouth. The kiss was sloppy, desperate—Sam’s lips parting against yours, his tongue sweeping in like he was starving. And maybe he was. Maybe you both were. But then—

Your eyes flickered open. And there it was.

The book. The goddamn book you’d come here for in the first place, its spine catching the dim light of the reading lamp two shelves over. Lore of the Forgotten: A Hunter’s Compendium. Right. Fucking. There.

Sam, ever perceptive, felt the exact moment your attention wavered. His lips left yours, trailing down your throat, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear—the one that made your knees weak, the one he knew would have you arching into him like a live wire. “Focus on me,” he whispered, low and rough, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slipped between you, palm flattening against the fly of your jeans, his fingers pressing just there.

“Sam,” you choked out, your hips jerking involuntarily into his touch. Fuck, he was good at that. Too good.

“Just—hold on,” you managed, your voice rough as gravel. You twisted your wrist, breaking his grip just enough to reach for the book. Your fingers brushed the spine.

Sam, with a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan, buried his face in the crook of your neck and bit down. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make you hiss, your body betraying you by melting into him. “Now of all times,” he muttered, his breath hot against your collarbone, “is the time you try to be responsible? Really?”

His hips rolled again, slower this time, like he was punishing you. Or maybe punishing himself. “I was so close,” he whined, and the sound was so Sam—all long-suffering exasperation, like the world had personally conspired to cockblock him. His forehead thudded against your shoulder. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve gotten to do this? Without Dean busting in? Without a demon trying to possess one of us? Without—”

“Stop bitching, it’s not the end of the world,” you cut in, flipping the book open to the right page. The sigil stared up at you, intricate and ominous. Bingo.

Sam lifted his head, his dark eyes burning with a mix of indignation and desire. “I was about to cum,” he said, voice dripping with betrayal, like you’d just kicked his puppy. “And you—you stopped.” His hand, still between you, gave your cock a slow, deliberate squeeze through your jeans. “You stopped.”

You swallowed hard, your grip on the book tightening. Damn him. “We have a job to do.”

Sam exhaled sharply through his nose, his thumb tracing the outline of you through the denim. “Fine,” he gritted out. “But you owe me.” His other hand slid up your abdomen, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. “And I collect.”

The promise in his voice was dark. You glanced down at the book, then back at him with a small grin. “Deal.”

Sam smirked—slow, wicked, the kind of smile that meant you were so screwed later. He finally, finally stepped back, adjusting himself with a wince. “I hate you,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it.

“Love you too, Sammy.”

his eyes fluttered when your nail scraped gently against his scalp. "hey," you murmur, titlting his chin up until those warm, wet, puppy-dog eyes locked onto yours. "don't look away. gotta make him see what he lost."

that earned you a broken sound— something between a whimper and a whine— as hips buck upwards to meet yours, enchanted by the way your mouth parted to let out a moan as you rode a nobody– a loser like him.

"you're so pretty, sammy," you whispered, smiling as you push a strand of hair back, placing a small kiss on his forehead. "so needy. such a good boy for me."

sam could only nod, swallowing a moan when you clench around him. he gazes up to look at you, like he'd die happy just by watching you fall apart like him. when you catch his lips to give him a kiss, you swear he went cross-eyed at the thought of having a chance to be with you, even if it's just because you wanted to get back at your ex.

your hips stutter, clenching around him, his hips thrusting up to meet your hips as his hands instinctively gripping your hips to hold you down. you feel him whisper into your ears, eyes scrunched shut as he babbles to not stop.

⸝⸝ TAGS: @alasdecas, @halsteadwichester, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @deanspocket, @hellopatriots , @itfeltlikeak1ss, @lilahthedoll

took a huge break! im ngl my interest in supernatural is fading so i doubt there will be more fics </3

also i changed my user (from wwvvii)!!

You were quieter than the others; never prying, never gossiping, never shrinking around her the way some did when she grew sharp or impatient. Eventually, somewhere over the passing months, you became the one she trusted most.

You prepared her chambers, pressed her dresses, fastened the intricate silver clasps and ribbons at the back of her gowns, brought her wine after particularly miserable council meetings and helped remove jewelry from her neck when she was too exhausted to do it herself. And somewhere between those long years and her father dying—something shifted.

It had happened gradually with a glance held too long, a touch lingering where it had never lingered before or the way silence between you no longer felt like the silence between princess and servant and neither of you had dared name it. Not yet, at least. Because naming it would make it real and you had no idea if you were even allowed to dream about it.

Something had changed for sure; you had served her for a bit more than two decades now, watching her grow into a woman but these past years, something had shifted between the both of you. You had traveled all the way to Dragonstone to stay with her as she became older, just to stay by her sides as she tried to take back what was rightfully hers.

You felt the tension between you both now more than ever, it was impossible not to and especially today.

The afternoon sun spilled through the open balcony doors of her chambers as you stood behind her, carefully fastening the final silver clasp of a deep crimson gown she had chosen for supper. The fabric hugged the curve of her waist elegantly, the dark red making her pale hair appear almost luminous where it tumbled over bare shoulders.

Your fingers brushed the nape of her neck, you paused. It was accidental, barely even a touch if you were honest. But immediately—you felt Rhaenyra inhale; it was sharp, noticeable, her back straightening. Your own breath caught at her reaction and you stared at the pale skin exposed beneath her hair.

You should pull away.

But instead of moving, you remained there; too close, far too close for someone of your status. In front of you, her reflection stared back through the polished mirror: she was watching you.

Your fingers remained frozen against her neck. Then softly, words left her mouth. “You have become terribly hesitant around me.” Her voice was lower than usual. You immediately pulled your hand away, feeling your fingers trembling. “My apologies, my Queen.”

Her eyes narrowed in the mirror. “There.” You frowned slightly in curiosity, not understanding what she meant. “My Queen?”

“That tone.” She turned slowly in her chair until she faced you completely, close enough that your knees nearly brushed hers. “That overly formal tone you use whenever you grow nervous. I know it by heart now.” You swallowed.

“I do not know what you mean.”

A smile pulled faintly at her mouth. “You are lying.” You looked away immediately, and she noticed. Of course she noticed, Rhaenyra always noticed things when it came to you, it was nothing new.

She leaned back lazily against the chair. “You know…” she murmured. “I remember when you first entered my service.” You glanced back at her. “You could barely look at me.” The words almost bring a smile out to your face but you stop it from happening. “I was terrified back then.” You only reply to her and that earned a quiet laugh from her.

“Yes, I recall.” Her gaze moved over your face, slowly, too slowly. “And now?” Your throat felt dry, you can feel your heart beating inside your chest; loud and fast. “Now what, my Queen?” She tilted her head, her violet eyes looking at you.

“Are you still terrified of me?”

Silence.

You could hear your own heartbeat, once again.

She was doing this intentionally; pushing, testing. And Gods help you—you wanted her to keep going. You cleared your throat, then. “I respect you.” The words left your mouth so easily because it was only the truth. “That is not what I asked.” The room had suddenly become too warm and you tried stepping backward but she noticed immediately.

Her hand shot forward and wrapped gently around your wrist just to still you. Every muscle in your body locked and your back straightened just to appear taller than you already were. Her fingers were warm, they were soft against your skin.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered downward toward where she held you before her violet orbs slowly lifted again.

“No.” Her voice was velvet. “You are not frightened of me anymore, right?”

You couldn’t answer because the truth sat heavily in your chest, in your brain, inside all of your thoughts. She was right about it; you weren’t scared of her anymore, you were scared of the fact that you wanted her. That you wanted to feel her love, her skin against yours, her breath mingling with your own.

She released you after several endless seconds and the absence of contact felt immediate: it was cold and you felt empty about it. Rhaenyra stood, the movement forced you back half a step but even then, she stood directly in front of you.

The scent of jasmine oil drifted from her skin, you could see every little thread of silver-white hair from her head, or the way her violet eyes looked at you. Her voice softened when she spoke up. “Tell me something.”

“Yes, my Queen?” Again, that smile when you used her title. You cursed yourself internally at the use of it; like it was inked into your brain and you couldn’t do much about it. She stepped around you toward the balcony.

“Why do you insist on calling me that when I’ve said before you could be informal with me?” You turned to face her, curiosity on your face like you didn’t understand the meaning of her words.  “Because you are the Queen, I must respect it. I believe it.”

She looked toward the sea in the distance. “But that is not why you say it.”

You stayed silent and she folded her arms, speaking up once more for you to hear. “Others call me Queen because they are required to.” She turned her head slightly, then. “You say it as though you are reminding yourself.”

Your pulse jumped, heart skipping a beat inside your chest. You had not realized she had noticed, but Rhaenyra noticed every single detail about every single thing. There was no way of escaping that, not as a servant.

Because every time you called her Queen—it was to remind yourself what she was. To you, she was untouchable, fire and way beyond you. She watched your silence carefully as you were thinking, then finally smiled faintly.

“You may go.” You blinked. “My Queen?”

She faced forward again, her hands grabbing the rocky balcony. All you could think about was how you’d kill to intertwine your fingers with hers; even if for just a second, just a moment with her. “I shall see you later.” Something in the way she said it made your stomach twist. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, you told yourself. So you bowed your head quickly. “Yes, My Queen.”

You turned and left the chambers, but you could feel her watching you all the way to the door or how her violet eyes seemed to never leave your form.

Night settled heavily over the castle: the humid corridors of Dragonstone had quieted considerably now, servants retreating to lower quarters while guards changed shifts beneath torchlight.

You sat alone in the servant chambers attempting to focus on repairing a torn sleeve from one of the younger princes’ tunics. It was impossible; your mind kept replaying the afternoon.

How Rhaenyra’s hand around your wrist, her eyes and the way she had stood impossibly close. Her deliberate teasing, the knowing look she wore every time your composure slipped. You pressed a hand over your face. Gods. What was happening? And worse: why had she suddenly decided to act on whatever this tension was between you?

A knock sounded sharply against the wooden door, which made you look up. Another servant stood there, squirming on her feet before speaking quietly. “The Queen requests you.” Your heart stopped, the sun had settled down, your chores were over. There was no need for Rhaenyra to call you this late. “Now?” The servant nodded once, timid.

You stood immediately, your hands suddenly felt cold and trembling as you wondered what would happen now. Have you made a mistake? Were you impolite earlier?

“Thank you.” You voiced to the servant before leaving the room. The walk through the corridors felt endless; every footstep louder than the last. You reached her chambers and the guards outside said nothing. One opened the heavy door, you stepped inside, quietly, heart skipping a beat inside your chest.

The door closed right behind you, loud and competing with the pace of your heart. You froze; the room was dimly lit with candles burned low across the chamber walls. The balcony doors stood open, allowing cool night air to drift through white silk curtains.

And there, across the room, Rhaenyra sat at the edge of her bed, waiting. She was no longer wearing the crimson gown from earlier, nor the heavy jewelries of the day. Instead, a loose ivory sleeping shift hung from her frame, thin and sheer enough that the candlelight caught every movement beneath the fabric. Her silver hair spilled freely over bare shoulders.

She looked impossibly beautiful. Dangerously so.

Your throat tightened and you lowered your gaze immediately. “You called for me, my Queen?” A long silence took over the room, the only thing you could hear was the waves crashing over the rocks of Dragonstone.

Then, her voice, quiet and soft. “Come closer.” You obeyed without thinking about it twice; each step felt heavier than the next but you felt your body buzzing. You stopped several feet away from her position and she frowned slightly. “I said closer.” It was an order, you felt like, and obeyed it for a second time. 

You stepped forward again, now only a breath separated you. Rhaenyra tilted her head upward to look at you, her violet eyes seemed to analyze your everything. There was no teasing now, no, only something deep and unreadable burning behind violet eyes. She studied your face quietly, like she was searching for something in your expression.

“Tell me truthfully.” You forced yourself to meet her gaze when she spoke, curiosity on your face at that moment. “Yes?” Her voice lowered, you tilted your head to the side when hearing the next sentence. “Have you noticed it too?” You knew exactly what she meant, obviously.

But still, you whispered. “Noticed what?” One of her hands rose until slender fingers brushed against your wrist; at the exact same place she had touched you earlier. Her index paused at your pulse point, she could feel your heart skipping a beat and she hummed quietly, like it was exactly what she was searching for; a proof. 

“This.” The word barely left her lips and her fingers moved upward, finally. She traced the inside of your forearm, watching every reaction cross your face.

You stood utterly still, unable to move, unable to breathe properly. Your thoughts were in shambles and you wondered if this was allowed; if you were allowed to dream about this again. Her hand reached your elbow, then higher and the soft fabric of your tunic wrinkled beneath her fingertips.

Rhaenyra spoke again. “For weeks now…” Her voice had gone quieter, like it was a secret only you were allowed to hear. “…I have watched you look at me when you think I do not notice.” Your chest tightened painfully but she continued, not aware of it. “You linger when fastening my gowns.” Her fingers reached your shoulder. “You stare when brushing my hair.” Her thumb dragged lightly over your collarbone. “And every time I touch you…”

She leaned forward slightly now, so close her breath warmed your skin and you almost gasped at the feeling of it. “…you stop breathing.” You swallowed hard, saliva stuck down your throat like a ball of words not ready to be said yet.

“Queen Rhaenyra…” She smiled softly at the title leaving your mouth. “Look at me.” Her fingers reached your jaw now, tilting your face fully toward hers. Your body had stopped functioning entirely; every thought scattered, your muscles relaxed, your pupils blown out. Her thumb traced your lower lip and she watched the movement with quiet fascination.

She ended up whispering to you. “Tell me how you feel.” You forced words out somehow; even if they weren’t what you truly wanted to say. “I should not.”

“Why?” Rhaenyra asked, her eyebrows furrowing at the words leaving your mouth like she couldn’t understand them. Like that wasn’t what she was waiting for. “You know why.” You only voiced back to you. A dangerous spark flashed in her eyes then; she refused that. “Say it.” Your chest rose sharply at the tone of her words, even though you weren’t scared of her.

“You are my Queen.”

“No.”

She leaned closer. “I’m so much more than that and you know it.” Her voice was quiet, but firm.  You stared at her; unable to think for what felt like hours. She stood from the bed then and the sudden movement forced you instinctively to the side until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. And even then, she kept advancing, closing the distance again until your body nearly touched hers.

Rhaenyra stared up at you and neither of you breathing normally now.

Outside, somewhere in the distance, a dragon cried across the dark skies over Dragonstone. A cry that you recognized to be Syrax.

Inside the chamber—silence. It was heavy and charged with tension that you had never felt before, a tension that you had dreamed of for weeks now, if not months and years. Her fingers slipped slowly beneath your chin, holding you there. Her voice was quiet and soft when she spoke again, breathing against your face. “I grow tired…” Her lips hovered dangerously close now. “…of being the only one brave enough to do something about this.”

Your entire body went still; there was nowhere to look except her mouth and she noticed; a slow smile touched her lips.

Rhaenyra leaned closer, not kissing you yet but leaving only inches between you like she was giving you the choice to do something about it. Her voice became barely more than a whisper after a second of silence. “Tell me to stop.” Your lips parted but no words came because you couldn’t deny that you wanted it as much as she did.

Her thumb stroked your jaw once, eyes locked onto yours and the silence stretched without a single word leaving your mouth. You couldn’t deny it anymore. “That is what I thought.” The whisper hit your ear and with one final slow step forward, your legs gave way against the edge of the bed behind you.

Rhaenyra followed immediately with one hand braced beside your shoulder against the mattress, the other still cradling your face. Silver hair fell around both of you like moonlight and her gaze dropped to your lips again before they returned to your eyes. Her own breathing now uneven and just before the space between you disappeared entirely, she whispered against your mouth. “Tonight…”

Her fingers tightened slightly at your jaw. “I would very much like you to stop calling me Queen. Use my name.”

She didn’t wait for a reply from you before her lips found yours in a heated kiss; a kiss that transcended how much she had waited for it. Her hand tilted your jaw up as she pressed her mouth harder against your own. Both of your hands lifted up, hovering over her waist and the thin fabric of her nightgown like you weren’t totally sure if you had the right to touch her. Rhaenyra pulled away just to look at you. “Don’t think too much about it. Just focus on me.” 

The words broke you out of your thoughts and just before you realized, you had rolled her over onto the mattress, now being the one on top. Rhaenyra’s violet eyes were wide for a tiny second before she relaxed and smiled at you; still guarded, but open.

“Is this alright?” You still asked, making sure you weren’t pushing it too far. She only nodded at you before both her hands cupped your jaw, bringing you back into a kiss. A whine escaped you, muffled by her lips as you kissed; you could feel the warmth of her skin, her breath against your face, her body under yours.

One of your hands moved to her thigh, lifting the sheet fabric of her nightgown upward to her stomach; Rhaenyra gasped against your mouth at the feeling of your cold fingertips on her skin. “You can touch me. I want you to.” The words left her mouth and you nodded, bringing her back into a kiss. A multitude of thoughts appeared in your mind, all those disappearing when the woman beneath you rolled her hips up.

Her hands curled around your neck, fingers through your hair as she pulled you closer. 

Your fingertips sneaked toward her core as she opened her legs for you; it was warm, already wet as you pushed two fingers between her folds. The kiss was broken just so Rhaenyra could moan, her eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of your digits teasing her pussy. You smeared wetness around, making sure to slick her clit before your digits lowered to her hole.

“Gods, please, do not tease me.” She spoke, her violet eyes focusing on your face as you rubbed the entrance of her pussy; the muscles there clenching at the touch. You ended up licking your lips, looking down at her cunt and back up at her face. “I’m not—Alright, let me…” You focused, your mouth falling open like you were the one receiving the touch. The tip of your fingers pushed against her hole, her thighs trembling and you forced your fingers inside her.

Rhaenyra gasped, her back arching from the bed and toward you as you sighed. Her walls were warm and tight around your fingers; pulsating and clenching just to accommodate for you. You waited until you had permission to move. “Go, move—” The silver-haired woman spoke from under you, her forehead already glistening with sweat; the air around the chamber was humid and filled with tension. 

Your eyebrows furrowed once more as you moved your fingers inside her, curling them to press against her inner-wall. Everything was so wet and warm, making it easier to pump your digits in and out, creating quiet squelching noises. Your orbs moved upward to focus on Rhaenyra’s face, her fingers ended up tugging at your hair which made you hiss and curl your fingers more. 

“Your touch… is all I’ve wanted for weeks now. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” The words left her mouth is a quiet and soft tone, like she couldn’t believe to be this open with you. Like she was scared you could reject her and what she also felt for you. Your heart skipped a beat inside your chest, sweat forming at your back.

“Rh—Rhaenyra…” You stuttered the name, testing it on your tongue as it was your first time using it.

Her walls clenched around your fingers then, making you pump faster inside her. “Gods!” She gasped, eyes wide as the heel of your palm slapped against her sensitive clit, rubbing it while you searched for that one spot. The hand that was keeping you up fell from the mattress, just for your elbow to take its place. “Please, let me touch you more. Please, Rhaenyra.” You begged her.

The tugging on your hair softened before both her hands moved to cup your jaw once more, bringing you into a new kiss as you kept fingering her pussy. It felt like permission to you, and so, even with difficulties, your free hand moved to unknot the ribbon of her nightgown. The fabric slowly revealed her bare breasts, her perky nipples and her pale skin. When you both separated from the kiss, you didn’t lose any seconds before wrapping your mouth around one of her buds.

Rhaenyra moaned at the feeling, back arching up.

The fingers you had inside her sloppy pussy slowed, making her squirm beneath you. One of her hands moved to tug back on your hair, actually pushing your head closer to her chest at the same time. You moaned around her nipple at that; sucking and lapping at the bud, rolling your tongue around before gently nipping at it. You felt how her walls clenched around your digits and how squirmy she was being. 

“Gods, you know how to touch me so well—please, do not stop.” She moaned out, her thighs shaking around your hand. You pulled away from her chest, letting go of her nipple in a loud pop! noise.

Your fingers were making a mess of her pussy as more wetness leaked out of her sloppy hole, slicking her clit and making her inner-thighs glisten. Rhaenyra’s hands moved to tug at the bedsheets, her knuckles white from the strength she had, all due to the pleasure she felt. 

“You’re clenching around my fingers, Rhaenyra, Gods!” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying, your eyes lowering to where your fingers disappeared; loud squelching noises now echoing in the room.

Her head rolled to the side, hiding in the sheets as you fastened your pace. Your palm slapped against her clit, your fingertips rubbing at the spot right after her entrance. Rhaenyra’s hips rolled toward your hand as the pleasure kept coursing through her body.

Diving your head back toward your chest, you decided to press kisses along her sternum, under her tits and toward her bellybutton. She gasped at the sensation, moans leaving her mouth that vibrated against the rocky walls and hit your ears. It was beautiful, melodic, and powerful. “You sound so good, Rhaenyra… You’re doing so good for me.” The words left your mouth, whispered to her which made her violet eyes focus on your face.

“You have to make me come, now. I need to come on your fingers.” Is all she replied, making you take a deep breath. Your mouth traveled back to her tits and there, you decided to wrap your lips around her second nipple; sucking on it as she moaned. Your tongue pressed against the bud, rolling around it before you sucked harder. “Yes, oh Gods!” Her back arched up from the bed, pushing her breast harder against your mouth.

Her sloppy pussy clenched around your digits as they hit her g-spot; rubbing at the velvety walls vigorously. Her thighs shook, her hips jerked up as the pleasure coursed through her body. “I’m going to come! Don’t stop now!” You heard as you nibbled onto her nipple, suckling, letting saliva leak from the corner of your mouth and onto her breast. 

At her words, you even fastened your digits, pumping inside her pussy. The muscles of your arm were burning now, begging to be relaxed but you didn’t listen to them; you couldn’t listen to them until Rhaenyra had come. 

Both her hands moved once more, fingers grabbing at the fabric of your tunic to pull you closer to her warm body. It is with your palm hitting her clit hard with skin slapping skin noises that she finally came; crying out your name and shaking against the bed. Her muscles contracted and she squirmed.

“Gods! Yes, please! I’m coming! Fuck!” Her voice was loud in the chamber but neither of you seemed to care much about it, too focused on the moment.

The view of her with her glistening forehead and disheveled hair made something snap inside you—your fingers kept pumping inside her; even faster which made her gasp as her orgasm prolonged. Her head rolled onto the mattress as you lowered yourself with a newfound energy; just to press your mouth to her sloppy cunt. Rhaenyra’s eyes widened at the feeling of your tongue lapping at her clit and she pulled herself up on her elbows just to look at you, her legs shaking around your head.

Your free hand moved to spread her thighs open just to have a clear view of her pussy; glistening, slick and sloppy. “What are you doing?” She simply asked, her muscles still trembling but you only lifted your gaze up to look at her as you ate her out, shaking your head against her pussy as you flicked her clit with the tip of your tongue. She moaned, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and hips rolling upward. 

Your mouth pulled away just so you could split a glob of saliva onto her sensitive clit, watching it drip between her wet folds and mix with her juices until it stopped at her hole, where your fingers were still buried. Your fingers pulled out just for a second, pushing your saliva inside her cunt before slamming back inside.

Your digits picked up the pace then, never faltering as Rhaenyra moaned. “Please—Gods, I can’t! Feels too good!” She cried out as your fingertips found her g-spot directly. 

Head diving back to her cunt, you wrapped your mouth around her clit and sucked onto it, feeling her clit pulsate on your tongue. Tears formed at the corner of Rhaenyra’s eyes due to the pleasure, her mouth falling wide open as she spoke. “No! I’m going to come again… Gods, t-too much!” Her hips rolled toward your face and you sucked harder on her clit all while your fingers pumped inside her sloppy pussy. Her wetness was making everything more slick; her skin glistening with your saliva and juices.

Your tongue pressed against her sensitive nub before you pulled away in a loud pop! noise, now teasing her clit with flickers of your tongue. Once more, her gummy walls clenched around your digits and she squirmed. “Gods, no! Coming! I’m coming!” She cried out as you lapped at her cunt, tasting her juices on your buds. You licked flat strips between her folds before going back to her clit, sucking on it harder than before.

Rhaenyra wasn’t lying; she came again, but stronger this time. “Fuck! Fuck, please!” The cursing was loud, echoing against the walls as you kept going; your fingertips rubbing at her g-spot, your tongue flickering her clit.

“Please, Rhaenyra, keep coming for me.” You spoke against her cunt as she squirmed, elbows giving up and back arching. You lapped at her pussy, gathering her wetness on the tip of your tongue before sucking back on her clit.

She didn’t have time to warn you before her pussy clenched and her juices flowed out; hitting your face but more precisely, your mouth. You gasped in surprise, your jaw slacking immediately as you opened your lips to taste her. Your fingers kept pumping inside her, your free hand moving to rub at her clit with three fingers so she’d kept coming. Rhaenyra cried, body convulsing with the pleasure she felt, her thighs trying to close but you wouldn’t let her. 

She squirted more as you overstimulated her clit and g-spot and it’s only once all the juices flowed out of her that you gently pulled your digits out. 

The room was silent of words; only loud with whining and loud breathing. The bed creaked under your weight as you moved to sit on your knees, cleaning your face and fingers onto the fabric of your tunic. Rhaenyra was silent but watched you, face glistening with sweat. A few minutes passed as you also tried to breath again, asking yourself if all of this was a dream.

“Come here—” She spoke to you, waving you closer. You listened, crawling next to her body before falling down to imitate her position. Her body immediately melted into yours and one of your hands moved to grab her own.

“You were amazing.” She spoke, violet eyes looking at your face. “You made me feel amazing.” She added and you sighed at the words. “This is all I ever wished for, Rhaenyra.” You voiced back.

Her free hand lifted to your face, caressing the soft skin there. “Stay with me until the morning?” Her words were quiet but you felt all the feelings inside them; how she kept you close to her heart. “Am I truly allowed?” You whispered and she nodded, eyes searching for yours through the semi-darkness. “You are allowed, yes.” 

“Then, I would love to stay with you, Rhaenyra.” A smile decorated her face for a while before she leaned her face closer to yours, pressed a kiss to your lips that lingered. When she pulled away, her hands gently undid the knot of your tunic, freeing your skin from the warmth of it.

“Let me show you how good I can also make you feel?”

THE VIBE 𓃚

sam winchester:

walking heresy in flannel, six feet of exhausted grace and hunter’s guilt, a man who’s spent his whole life being told his blood doesn’t belong to him, that it’s tainted, weaponized, pre-written for hell. he’s mercy with a loaded gun. (and he never gets to pretend he’s just a person; someone’s always bleeding, begging, or dying in his hands.)

will graham:

drowned animal in human clothes, empathy disorder masquerading as “gift,” bones full of static. he steps into a crime scene and lets it climb into him like a parasite, wears other people’s murders like borrowed skin. (he doesn’t know how to turn himself off, not really; he just shakes and calls it “coping.”)

put them in the same room and the air would tilt. not in some soft, cinematic way. more like a church whose foundation is finally cracking, stained glass shivering because two different kinds of cursed walked through the same door at once.

sam’s the kind of man who thinks he has to hold the universe together with his bare hands.

will’s the kind of man who’s pretty sure the universe wants to peel him like fruit.

so of course they’d orbit. of course.

݁RELIGION, ROT, AND THE BODY 𖦏

you know there’d be religious horror baked into it.

sam: raised in a world where god is alternately absent, punishing, or weaponized.

will: raised in no explicit doctrine, but haunted by the closest thing to a god he ever met, and it wore a cannibal’s smile.

together, they become their own unpleasant gospel.

sam, in some cheap bathroom, gripping the sink, staring at his reflection: blood on his collar, another dead body behind his eyes, wondering if his soul is just a ledger with too many red lines.

will, in the doorway, barefoot, throat tight, watching the way sam’s shoulders heave once, like he’s holding back a scream he’s not allowed to let out.

he steps in, slow, like you approach a wild animal that might bolt or bite.

“it wasn’t your fault,” will says. “feels like it was,” sam answers. “somehow it always is.” (will understands that. god, does he understand that; everything feels like his fault too.

their proximity becomes this unsaintly thing:

two men who keep cracking their ribcages open for other people’s ghosts, finally staring at each other and realizing, i know that rot. i’ve tasted it too.

not healing. not really. more like… learning how to live with the infestation without letting it eat the whole house.

WHAT THEY ARE TO EACH OTHER 𓃦

to sam, will is proof that you can stare directly into monstrosity and still choose not to become it completely. (even on the days it feels like you already did.)

to will, sam is proof that you can be told you’re damned from birth and still spend your life trying to save others anyway. (even when it breaks you over and over.)

they’re not a sweet ship.

they’re an infection that learned how to hold hands.

sam, six-foot-four of “i’ll take the hit.”

will, bleeding internally, whispering, “let me see inside your head, it can’t be worse than mine,” even though he knows it might be.

two men standing in a field at dawn after a case, grass wet around their boots, their clothes still smelling faintly of smoke and formaldehyde. they don’t hug. they don’t kiss. they just stand close enough that their shoulders brush once, twice, like an accident neither of them corrects.

the sun comes up anyway, rude and indifferent, spilling light on two people who have more nightmares than they have years left, and for one second, they both exist without anyone’s blood on their hands.