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❝if somebody's gotta get knocked around today,
it might as well be me.❞
— jude.
ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ #𝓐BOUTHIM :
Jude Alexander Stacy, born on April 12th 2003 is a 23 years old freelance photographer, part-time science tutor and the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man of Earth-K0964. A 6'1" man, clumsy on his feet and more nerdy than he wants to admit. His family is composed of his father; George Stacy, his mother; Helena Stacy, and his younger sister; Gwen Stacy. Member of The Spider Society and close to Miguel O'Hara, Jude is often sent on missions with Hobie Brown.
He has short platinum blonde hair, blue eyes mixed with sage green when the sun hits. Tall, lean build with surprisingly broad shoulders, with permanent scrapes on his knuckles. Jude often wears little bandages on his fingers he insists they are fashion accessories but it's mostly to hide accidental cuts. Wears oversized hoodies, colorful sneakers and vintage graphic shirts whenever he isn't in costume and always smiles at people.
ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ #𝓣HESTORY :
Nobody ever expected anything extraordinary from Jude Stacy; he wasn't a genius, wasn't a prodigy nor the kid destined to change the world. To people, he was simply George Stacy's easygoing son—the one who smiled too much, cracked jokes at the worst possible moments, and somehow made everyone around him feel a little lighter.
During a Midtown High science excursion to Oscorp at 16 years old, one of the genetically engineered spiders escaped its enclosure and everyone started to panic. It was chaotic all around, easy to be distracted for a second too long and Jude barely noticed the sharp sting against his wrist until hours later.
But by morning? All had changed: his eyesight had sharpened overnight, every muscle in his body felt stronger, lighter. He could hear conversations through apartment walls, cling to ceilings without thinking, and somehow knew exactly when danger was seconds away.
When he realized that every time someone nearby was in danger, his body reacted before his mind ever could, it terrified him. Not because of the new powers coursing through his veins, but because of what they meant. If he could stop something terrible from happening… and chose not to, could he ever forgive himself?
So he stitched together a mask, borrowed a hoodie, and stepped onto the rooftops of New York with no plan beyond helping whoever needed it. The suit became better after a few months, the organic fluid became easier to use and the name came later.
But the reason never changed: Jude never became Spider-Man because he wanted to be extraordinary. He became Spider-Man because, somewhere along the way, helping people simply became who he was. The mask wasn't what made him a hero, it just gave the city a name for the person he'd always been.
ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ #𝓣RIVIA :
He naturally developed a smoother, more acrobatic swinging style than most Spider-People, treating the city like one giant playground.
Peter Parker eventually became one of his closest friends.
Across the Spider-Verse, he's known as the smiling Spider-Man.
Breaks the fourth-wall.
Miguel often complains that Jude treats multiversal missions like school field trips.
Hobie Brown thinks Jude is proper sunshine, innit, while pretending not to like him.
Despite his cheerful nature, Jude has one unbreakable rule: if his family is threatened, every joke disappears. Suddenly, he's frighteningly focused; the kind of Spider-Man who doesn't smile until everyone is safe again.
ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ #𝓛ITTLEHEADCANONS :
Gives every pigeon around his apartment building a different name.
Keeps snacks hidden all over New York because Spider-Man burns through calories ridiculously fast.
Frequently photobombs tourists while swinging overhead.
Is often seen dancing on rooftops during patrol.
Is physically incapable of walking down the street without complimenting someone's dog or someone's clothes.
Has a playlist titled Swing First, Think Later.
Uses finger guns after successful rescues.
Gives handmade Spider-Man stickers to children after helping them.
ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ #𝓜ORE : asks and requests about this character are open and heavily appreciated! can be requested with . . . ♡ general readers or any of my !readers.
﹙ ¹⁸⁺ ﹚ ₊ ❜୧ YOUR HUSBAND COMES HOME EXHAUSTED.
the house is quiet. it's a strange, almost unsettling feeling after seven years and three kids. you’re standing at the stove, stirring a pot that’s starting to smell like dinner, but your ears are tuned to the silence. the kids are at the neighbor's house, a last-minute playdate that you were ridiculously grateful for, giving you a rare hour of peace before the evening chaos begins.
the front door clicks open, and the sound is loud in the stillness. you peek your head out just as simon steps inside, his huge frame seeming to fill the entire doorway. he drops his keys in the bowl, the clatter echoing his exhaustion. he doesn't say a word, just toes off his boots and sinks onto the living room sofa with a deep, weary sigh that seems to come from the bottom of his soul. you can see it in the way he scrubs a hand over his tired face.
he’d called you during lunch to let you know it was trainee day today.
you turn the heat down on the stove, your heart aching a little for him. he looks up then, and his eyes, heavy with exhaustion, find yours across the room. for a second, he just looks at you, and you see the weight of his day in his gaze. but then, something else shifts. the exhaustion is obviously still there, but a familiar hunger flickers to life, a low-burning fire that’s just for you.
he doesn't have to say a word. he just pats the space on his lap, a silent command.
a slow smile spreads across your face. you abandon the spoon on the counter and walk into the living room, the quiet of the house suddenly charged with a different kind of energy. you go straight to him, straddling his lap as you settle onto his thighs, your arms looping around his neck. he feels solid and warm beneath you.
"long day, lieutenant?" you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, feeling the rough scruff of his growing stubble against your lips.
"the longest," he groans, his hands immediately finding your hips, his grip firm and tight. he pulls you tighter against him, letting you feel exactly how much he wants you, even after a day that’s clearly wrung him out. “been thinkin’ about this since i left this mornin’.”
"oh yeah?" you breathe, your hips already starting a slow, instinctive roll against his. "about what?"
“about gettin’ you just like this,” he growls, his hands sliding up your back before tangling in your hair, tilting your head back. “quiet house. no kids. just you.”
the filthy words, his rough voice, and the ticking clock of your kids’ imminent return is a potent combination. his mouth crashes down on yours, a kiss that’s all pent-up frustration and raw need. Never a hint of gentleness when it comes to his need for you.
he breaks the kiss, his breathing already ragged. “kids’ll be back for dinner soon,” he says, his voice a low warning. “better be quick about it, luv.”
you don’t need to be told twice. you’re already working at the button and zip of his jeans, your fingers fumbling in your haste. he helps you, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, already hard and heavy for you. he groans as your hand wraps around him.
“get on, swee’eart,” he rasps, his eyes dark with impatience.
you lift yourself up, your hands braced on his broad shoulders for balance, and then slowly sink down onto him. a matched set of hisses and groans fill the silent room as you take all of him inside you. for a moment, you both just stay still, breathing each other in, your body adjusting to the thick, perfect fullness of him.
then you start to buck your hips.
you set the pace, a slow, deliberate rocking that has his head falling back against the sofa cushions, his eyes fluttering shut. his hands grip your hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, guiding your rhythm. he’s too tired to do the work, but he’s more than capable of taking it, of letting you ride him until you’re both breathless.
“fuck, yes,” he pants, his eyes opening again to watch you. “just like that. ride me, mrs. riley.”
the use of your married name, the sight of his face below you, twisted in a mask of pure pleasure. you pick up the pace, your body moving faster, harder, chasing the feeling that’s already building low in your belly. the only sounds are your wet gasps, the slick slide of your bodies, and his low, guttural groans of encouragement.
“c’mon, luv,” he urges, his voice tight. “almost there.”
he’s right. you can feel your orgasm cresting, a frantic, desperate wave. you lean down, bracing your hands on the sofa on either side of his head as you ride him into a frenzy. your climax hits you hard, a muffled cry escaping your lips as your inner walls clench around him, milking him greedily. it’s all it takes to send him over the edge. he shouts your name, a raw, unguarded sound, as he spills himself deep inside you, his whole body going rigid beneath you.
you collapse against his chest, your body trembling and feeling boneless, his ragged breaths ghosting against your neck. you stay like that for a few seconds, tangled together in the aftermath, before the reality of your life comes rushing back.
“dinner,” you breathe against his sweaty skin.
“fuckin’ hell,” he pants, but his hands are already helping you up, his movements quick and efficient.
you slide off his lap, your legs shaky as you quickly fix your clothes. he sorts himself out, his face flushed. you can feel his cum starting to leak down your inner thigh, again, a warm, secret reminder of what you just did.
steadying yourself, you stumble back into the kitchen, catching the sound of your neighbor at the front door with your noisy kids trailing behind them.
thinking about your sweet pussy being RESURRECTED KNIGHT! JASON TODD’S good luck charm before going into battle.
being a knight is a tough task for anyone— but for jason? it’s an easy task. and certainly, the fear of dying in battle was one anyone had entertained with… but jason was a rare case of having experienced death— it’s only the fact that he’s a living and walking example of resurrection that he doesn’t fear death anymore. he doesn’t fear bleeding out from stab wounds, he doesn’t fear losing a bought with a fellow knight… no, what he fears most; is not coming home to you.
you gave jason a chance when no one else did— you gave the “skeleton knight” as they call him because he’s a living dead man— a chance… and he never looked at you the same again, in the best way possible.
so, it’s not shocking that when the time comes that he and the fellow knight squadron has to follow king’s orders and fight another kingdom’s knights… he takes the time in the night before to ruin you, ruin your pussy all over again— because he loves you, and the best way he can show that? by letting you ride his cock like this.
“fuck baby, keep bouncing like that.” he whispers in the golden light of your bedroom, the fire place burning golden light onto the walls as the stars in the sky brightened. “fuck you look so gorgeous up ‘here sweetheart.”
you moan louder than you mean to, both hands on his chest, digging into the scars on his chest from both combat and his death itself and looking at him— disheveled as all hell but beautiful in his eyes. “jason- ngh! fuck!”
he nods encouragingly, his left hand running up your chest and cupped your cheek, his right hand remaining on your hip. “just keep going baby… ride me like that…”
“why— why you always gotta leave— fuck!” you whine, knowing the answer but wanting him to say it. “just s-stay… stay here with me, jay…”
he chuckles, meeting your bounce half way and thrusting into your fluttering folds, fucking your pussy rough as he begins to meet you halfway consistently. “because hun… it’s my job… i promise to come back to you, sweetheart.” he whispers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your trembling lips, feeling you moan against him. “never leaving this pretty lil face alone… ‘promise.”
you couldn’t stop the moans from leaving your lips, your right hand stay on his chest and the other wraps into his black hair, nails digging deep. “jason! oh! fuck! right there— ngh!”
jason didn’t stop the smile from staying on his lips, squeezing your hips. “that’s why i fuck you this good, baby, you’re my good luck charm— haven’t gone a night without fucking you… since the night i met you.”
you tried to bite back but you couldn’t… only moans and his name falling from your mouth— he always made sure you knew he loved him with the way his hips move.
“always gonna make you feel good baby.” he continues to whisper, stroking his thumb on your cheek as his other thumb strokes down and begin to rub over your clitorus in a rapid manner. “forget that ‘m going away… just focus on me, hun. you cum for me and i’ll cum in you… promise.”
and you listened to him… cause jason never broke his promises to you! especially when you feel him cum in you no less than three minutes later!
INSPIRED BY: this post by @/starr-jazz! (haven’t watched a knight of seven kingdoms but dear god, finn bennett in knight armor is doing sum to me)
masterlist is here! click here for more!
ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“Shit—Stop moving, baby, I’m trying to—” Rafe groaned in your ear, one of his hands moving from the warm sand to grab your hip, lifting it up as his pelvis pressed against your ass.
You knew it was bad to have sexual activity on the beach; anyone could see you, walk by, call the cops. But when Rafe pulled you away from the party to a more private area, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. You had thought about it through all the party, even when laughing and talking to your friends.
But now, hidden by rocks and moans muffled by the sound of waves crashing close, it didn’t matter anymore. Rafe hadn’t lost any time when taking your mini-dress off, leaving your bikini on just because it turned him on. He made you lay your stomach against the sand, grain sticking to your slightly humid skin, and just pulled your panties to the side as he laid on top of you, prone bone style.
Rafe pulled his swimming shorts down enough to free his hard, leaking cock. The tip was angry red, begging for attention, slit glistening with pre-cum. He groaned, pumping himself once or twice before wrapping his hand around the base.
His blue eyes lowered to your wet pussy, the thought of him fucking you here had aroused you more than you wanted to admit. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty like that. Fuck, if you could see yourself.” Rafe cursed and you sighed, pushing your hips backwards to feel him. He rubbed his bulbous head against your slick folds, parting them just to gather wetness onto his tip. “Rafe, please—” You whined at him, then.
But instead of listening to you, he slapped his hard cock against your cunt, creating skin-slapping-skin noises that were eaten by the ocean. You gasped each time his cock slapped back against your folds and clit, squirming under him due to the feeling. Rafe’s free hand moved to your ass, squeezing a cheek in his strong palm just to push it to the side, giving him a better view of your pussy.
“M’going in now, okay? Going to fill that pussy up.” He said and you didn’t have time to reply before feeling his tip press against your slick hole, giving the muscles a push before entering you. “Fuck! Ah, yeah… S’good.” You hummed, your hands moving into the sand, mindlessly playing with it. Rafe hissed as his cock slowly pushed inside you, stretching your gummy walls apart.
You relaxed your body for him to go deeper until he couldn’t reach more, his tip almost kissing your cervix. You gasped, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of uncomfortable and pleasure. Rafe waited for you to get used to the intrusion before he lowered his upper body to press against yours; his torso and your back meeting.
“Y’feel so good, baby. You’re squeezing my cock so good.” He groaned in your ear. His arms moved to rest in the sand near your face.
His cock throbbed inside you, pressing against your slick walls and making you pulsate. “Rafe, please, move now…” You said, fist closing and relaxing a few times. Your boyfriend hummed, his head coming closer to yours just so he could move his arms under yours and his hands moved to your chest. You felt the fabric of your bikini top being pushed to the side, the two triangles not hiding your tits anymore. “Let me see you. You’re too pretty. You couldn’t even wait home for us to fuck, uh?”
You didn’t reply but gasped when Rafe pushed his hips away and back against yours, how cock sliding back and forth. His pace was slow at first but he did go deep. His warm palms groped your chest, squeezing the fat of your tits, fingers rolling around your perky nipples. His breathing hit onto the skin of your neck, giving you goosebumps.
He was so close that you could smell his perfume; mango, vanilla and a hint of cigarette from the ones he smoked. The sensation of the sun hitting down on your skin, the sand sticking to your humid body and how Rafe was fucking you was almost too much for your brain to keep up, but your boyfriend had a way to tether you to Earth. “Speak to me, baby, feels good, uh? Knowing anyone could see us right now? Walk by to see me fuck you into the sand?”
His words made you moan, not afraid of the volume of your voice with the waves hiding it. Rafe’s cock slid inside you, his mushroom tip rubbing against your g-spot due to the prone bone position he had you in. Your thighs shook, hips pushing backwards to feel more of him. Your inner-thighs were a mess—juices coating the skin, making sand stick there.
“Please, fuck, it feels so good… Rafe, keep going.” You replied to him, your head rolled backwards which gave him the opportunity to kiss your neck. He groaned while picking up the pace, your body melting into the ground with the force of his hips.
A gasp left your mouth as your boyfriend’s fingers kept rolling around your hardened nipples, and then, he decided to pinch them. Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. “Oh God, yes! I love that—Do it again!” You voiced at Rafe and you heard a chuckle leave his mouth.
Another pinch, another gasp. “You like that, baby? Like me taking care of you?” He said, his pelvis slapping against your ass as he fucked you both harder and faster.
Your brain had muffled all background noises since the sexual activity started, but you could clearly hear the music from the party happening not far away and the laughter of your friends who were probably under alcohol substances.
A rather hard thrust made you break out of your thoughts, crying out Rafe’s name when he rutted his hips against your ass, creating loud skin-slapping-skin that mixed with the squelching of your wet pussy. The hands you had in the sand moved to grab at Rafe’s biceps, nails burying inside his strong muscles. He hissed, another chuckle leaving him. “That’s it, baby. Show me how much you like when I fuck that pussy. You love it, don’t you? Such a good girl.”
You moaned, nodding your head without an answer to give. Your boyfriend’s fingers pinched your nipples again, tugging on them just to roll the bud with his fingers.
“Please! P-Please! I love it so much, Rafe!” You voiced, tits bouncing against the sand due to the force of his thrusts. You could feel the warmth coursing through your body, that inevitable sensation of an orgasm showing the tip of its nose. The grip you had over Rafe’s biceps tightened which made him hiss quietly into your ear. “Coming! I need to come!” You added, mouth wide open.
Rafe’s balls slapped against your ass as he took more support on his knees after your words, his hands moving away from your tits just to press flat against the sand. He groaned, head falling against your shoulders.
“I know baby, I know. Come for me, yeah? Be a good girl, I know you are.” He said, making your ass bounce with the force of his thrusts. His bulbous tip rubbed against your g-spot and you could only cry out when the orgasm took over your body.
“Yes, fuck! Coming!” You gasped at your boyfriend, eyes wide. Muscles contracted, body squirmed, toes curled.
Rafe’s cursed as your gummy walls clenched around his cock, your juices coating his length and sticking to his base and balls. He only needed a few more thrusts to bury himself all the way inside you, shooting his creamy, thick load into your pussy. A raw moan left his throat as he came, sweaty forehead shifting to your nape. “Fuck… Fuck, she squeezed me so good I couldn’t stop myself.” He spoke after a moment.
You both stayed in that position for what seemed like hours (even if it was only seconds) before Rafe slowly pulled out of your sloppy hole. Semen leaked out immediately, thick globs disappearing in the sand before your boyfriend helped you up on your feet.
Rafe had a smile on his face, one that usually meant trouble and after what you had both done, you didn’t even question it. “Want to get cleaned up in the water?” He just asked, one hand lifting to brush sand away from your sweaty cheek. You bent to grab your dress before nodding your head at his question.
“Yeah, I don’t want to go back to the party all sweaty and smelling like sex.”
Rafe didn’t reply but suddenly grabbed you by the waist, throwing you on his shoulder before walking toward the water. You laughed loudly, slapping his back. “Get me down, you asshole! I don’t want to ruin my hair!”
“Nah, don’t care. Should have thought about that before letting me fuck you in the sand.”
﹙ ¹⁸⁺ ﹚ ₊ ❜୧ A QUICKIE WITH YOUR HUSBAND SIMON.
you're sorting through what feels like the millionth tiny sock when simon comes up behind you, large hands settling on your hips. "kids are occupied," he murmurs against your neck, and you can hear the suggestion in his voice.
"si, i have to get this done," you protest weakly, but you're already leaning back into him. wash day waits for no one with three kids, and you're drowning in tiny clothes. "and they won't stay distracted for long."
"exactly why we should be quick about it." his hands slide around to your stomach, pulling you flush against him. you can feel he's already hard, and your resolve wavers. "been thinking about you all morning, luv. watching you bend over sortin’ laundry..."
"you're terrible," you breathe, but you're already turning in his arms. seven years of marriage and three kids later, and he still looks at you like he wants to devour you. "we have maybe ten minutes before someone needs something."
"can work with that." he's already lifting you onto the washing machine, hands pushing up his sweatshirt that you wore around the house. "fuck, no panties? you trying t’kill me?"
"it's wash day, baby," you remind him, wrapping your legs around his waist. "everything's in the dirty hamper." but your explanation dissolves into a moan as his fingers find you already wet.
"fuckin' convenient," he growls, working you open with practiced efficiency. there's no time for slow and sweet; not with three kids in the house. "always ready for me, aren't you, swee'eart?"
you bite your lip to keep quiet as he replaces his fingers with his cock, pushing in with one smooth thrust. "simon," you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. "fuck—w-we have to be quiet."
"then you'd better keep that pretty mouth o’yours shut," he says, setting a punishing pace immediately. the washing machine rocks with the force of it, and you have to brace yourself against the wall. "can't have the little ones hearing what daddy does to mummy."
the filthy words in his rough accent make you clench around him. he notices, of course he does, and smirks against your neck. "like that, do you? knowing i'm fuckin’ you while our babies play down the hall?"
before you can respond, there's a loud bang on the door. "mommy! mommy, open!" your five-year-old's voice cuts through your haze of pleasure. "need you!"
simon doesn't stop, if anything going harder. "mummy's busy, swee'eart," he calls out, voice impressively steady for someone currently railing you against major appliances. "go play with yer sister."
"but mommy!" another bang. "daisy took my doll!"
you try to answer but simon chooses that moment to hit that perfect spongy spot inside you, and all that comes out is a strangled sound. he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes dark with amusement and lust.
"mummy's folding clothes," he lies smoothly. "she'll be out in a minute, go tell daisy t'share."
"don't want to!" your daughter whines, and you can hear her stomping her little feet. "want mommy now!"
"ella." simon's voice drops into what you call his lieutenant voice — gentle but brooking no argument. "go play. we'll be out soon."
there's a moment of silence, then you hear her stomp away muttering about simon being unfair. the second she's gone, simon removes his hand from your mouth.
"such a good girl," he praises, but you're not sure if he means you or ella. "keeping quiet while i fuck you senseless. though i bet y’wanted to scream, didn't you?"
"simon, fuck, please," you gasp, feeling your orgasm building embarrassingly fast. the combination of his cock and the thrill of almost getting caught has you on edge. "i'm gonna-"
"i know, luv. she's fuckin’ squeezin’ me." his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles. "c'mon then. cum all over my cock before another one starts bangin’ on the door."
as if on cue, you hear your two-year-old calling from somewhere in the house. "mama?"
the use of your married name plus the perfect pressure on your clit sends you over. you bite his shoulder to muffle your cry as you cum all over his cock, whole body shaking with the force of it. he follows right after, groaning low in your ear as he fills you.
"mama!" your toddler's voice is getting closer.
"shit," simon pants, pulling out and quickly fixing his clothes. he helps you down, steadying you when your legs wobble. "y’good?"
"just peachy," you breathe, smoothing down his sweatshirt. you can feel his cum starting to leak and clench your thighs together.
"though i'm going to need to shower before i finish this laundry."
blood coated the blue latex gloves you wore on your hands, medical supplies from a first aid kit littered the coffee table and couch around you. you placed the last few stitches into matt’s skin, cleaning off the area of his wounded abdomen again before placing a gauze pad over it.
“thank you, nurse,” he glanced up in your general direction, eyes shifting behind his glasses to find the mark in the air where your chest rose and fell with your breathing. “how will i ever repay you?”
you chuckled at that, removing your gloves and placing all the leftover supplies back in the box. “depends, what’re you willing to give me?”
“oh, well, i can give you a lot, actually. just name your price.” he smiled while you rolled your eyes, understanding the nod of an innuendo he was pitching.
“you barely survived last night, matt. and you’re lucky you have a sweet enough girlfriend in your bed to patch you up,” you shut the first aid kit and stood up after collecting all of the trash, discarding it in the trashcan in the kitchen.
“sooo, that’s a... no? to the innocent thanks i wanted to give you?”
“yeah, what you wanted was totally innocent,” you snorted. “c’mere,” you whispered as you made your way back over to the couch, bending down to place your lips on his.
two quick smacks of kisses is what you gave him before standing back up and pulling away, giving him a light slap on his shoulder. “oh– come onnn!” matt groaned at the loss of you, trying to grab your arm to pull you down, but you were quicker.
“get up, we’re already late,” you grinned. “let’s try to actually make it to the office before you bleed through your shirt and i have to repack your gauze.” you tossed his blazer towards him, watching him catch it with ease before walking to your shared bedroom to grab your heels.
all matt did was sigh, listening to you click clack around the apartment as he reluctantly stood up and buttoned his shirt, wishing you could’ve spared him at least another minute for some more ‘innocent’ kissing.
⊹ 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐘. ── ⦂ minors are not allowed to interact.
ִ ⟡ 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 ˖ dean winchester ⅋ f!reader. ❜ ࿐ ⊹ ׂ
🖊️ ❛ 𓂃 it turns out that his gun has more than just one use. content ♥︎ warnings. gunplay, rough motel sex, impact play, creampie, light bondage, strong language.
dean winchester is a horndog.
it’s no secret. it’s not something he hides. it’s a fundamental, baked-in part of his being, like his love for his car or his questionable taste in music. and you love it. you love the way his eyes darken with a specific kind of hunger that’s reserved just and only for you, the way his hands always seem to find their way to your body, no matter where you are. he loves the idea of doing just about anything with you, and you’re always, always willing to play.
right now, you can’t see the look on his face, but you can feel it. your face is pressed into the cheap motel mattress, the scent of stale fabric and him filling your senses. your hands are pulled tight behind you, his worn leather belt cinching your wrists together, the buckle digging slightly into your skin. he has you on your knees, ass in the air, completely at his mercy.
and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
your ass is on fire, a deep, pleasant throb radiating from the globes of your cheeks. they’re swollen from where he’d been smacking you, his big, rough calloused palm leaving stinging prints that were already turning into bruises. he’d fucked you just as hard, a frantic, desperate rhythm that left you breathless and seeing stars.
he hasn’t pulled out yet, but the motion has stopped. he’s just sitting back on his heels, his weight a comforting pressure on your calves, his cock still buried deep inside you. you can feel yourself clenching around him, your slick walls trying to coax another thrust out of him. your hole is sopping, utterly ruined and dripping his cum down your inner thighs in thick, milky trails.
a low chuckle rumbles through his chest. “look ‘atcha,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “so sweet and tight. took about every lil’ drop, baby.”
he finally slides out of you, and the sound is obscene, a wet, sloppy noise that makes you whine at the sudden emptiness. you feel a cool draft hit your wet skin. he stays kneeled behind you, and you know he’s just admiring his handiwork. you can picture it perfectly: his cock, slick with your wetness, a perfect white ring of his own cream still clinging to the base of the head. he’s probably got that smug, shit-eating grin on his face.
you feel his fingers tracing the edges of your hole, dipping into the slickness and teasing the swollen, sensitive flesh. he swirls a finger around, making you squirm, your hips twitching.
“still want more, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a low promise. “she’s always been so greedy.”
his fingers disappear, only to be replaced by the sharp, open-palmed smack of his hand right against your dripping cunt. the sound is wet and loud in the quiet room, a sting that has your whole body jolting.
you just groan in response, pushing your ass back towards his hand, a silent plea.
you hear a soft metallic scrape, the sound of him reaching for something on the nightstand. you assume he’s just grabbing the lube for another round, but when he comes back, what presses against you isn’t his fingers or his cock.
it’s the cool, heavy press of metal.
it’s his gun. the norinco 1911A1. the one he babies same as the impala. the one that’s always on him wherever he goes, a permanent fixture tucked into the back of his worn jeans. dean presses the tip of the barrel right against your dripping slit, the cold a stark, shocking contrast to the heat of your body.
a soft, surprised choked mewl escapes your lips. your hips jerk.
“shhh,” he whispers, his voice right by your ear. “hold still.”
he uses the barrel to nudge your folds apart, the metal sliding through your slickness. then, slowly, deliberately, he slides it in.
you let out a loud, shuddering moan. the feeling is insane. the cold steel slipping inside your hot, tight core, the weight of it, the smooth, unyielding texture. it’s wrong and dangerous and so, so, so right. he pushes it in slowly, the barrel gliding deep inside you until the front sight is pressing against your g-spot.
he didn’t put the safety on. you know he didn’t. he likes the risk, the sharp, thrilling edge of danger that makes everything feel more real, much more intense. when you started dating dean, you learned that risk wasn’t just a part of his job; it was a part of him, and it bled into everything, especially the bedroom. you didn’t just accept it; you craved it just as much as he did.
“feel good, don’t it?” he asks, his voice a low rasp.
you can only nod, your face still mashed into the pillow, your body trembling.
he takes that as his cue. he grips the handle of the gun and starts fucking you with it, his movements slow at first, pushing the barrel in and out of your tight, wet cunt. the cool metal slides against your hot inner walls, a friction that’s completely alien and unbelievably good. you start to bounce back on it, meeting his thrusts, your own hips moving in a desperate rhythm.
the sight of it turning him on.
a strangled groan rips from his throat. you hear the frantic, slick sound of his hand wrapping around his own cock. he’s watching you. watching his gun disappear inside of you, watching you ride it, watching his cum drip from your overused hole. he starts jerking off, his pace rough and frantic, his breaths coming in harsh, ragged pants.
he’s fucking you with his gun and fucking himself with his hand, and the sheer, filthy depravity of it all sends you hurtling over the edge. your orgasm hits you like a lightning strike, a violent, all-consuming wave that makes your whole body seize, your inner walls clenching hard around the cold steel buried inside you.
your scream is muffled by the mattress, but dean hears it, and it’s all he needs to tip him over to the edge. his body locks up, a sharp curse bitten off as he cums hard, his hot seed spilling over his stomach and onto the sheets, just as your limbs give up, a trembling, satisfied mess.
“Fuck, fuck… M’gonna come, please… Let me come!” Dex cried out to you—he couldn’t even tell how many minutes had passed, how many hours since you started bouncing up and down on his cock.
All he knew was that the bedsheets were stuck to his skin due to sweat, that tears had started rolling from the corners of his eyes, that drool had slowly trickled down from his mouth due to the intense pleasure he felt. All of this had started with teasing; him betting that he would never submit to you (even though he had done it countless times before) and that he would never beg for release. But he did, and he did so prettily.
You were the devil, if Dex had to describe you in that moment: you had denied him so many orgasms, overstimulated his cock before ruining all releases he had dreamed of. And it didn't feel like you were about to stop any time soon.
“Oh? You’re about to come, is that it? You want to come, Dex?” You teased the man that was laying beneath your body, the man that was tied up to the bed, the man that was squirming and whining.
Your sloppy cunt lowered all the way down to his base, soaking him in your juices before stopping all movements. Dex groaned, head rolling onto the pillow as he realized you weren’t going to give him what he wanted, once again. His thighs shook under your body, hands tugging on his restraints but most importantly, his cock twitched inside your warm hole. His lips opened wide, drool leaking from his mouth and toward his cheek. You moved one hand to wipe it off, caressing his scar at the same time.
“I heard someone wanted to come, here? Who’s that?” You teased, voice full of mockery as Dex’s body shook, his insides all warm and burning up at the fact that another orgasm was ruined by you. His balls contracted and relaxed a few times, the veins all along his length throbbed against your velvety walls. It was nothing but torture to him; to feel you so wet, so close, so good but not being able to shoot his load inside your cunt.
His blue eyes shut tight as he tried to gain his thoughts back. “Me! Fuck, it’s me. I need to come… Let me come.” He whined at you.
It was your first time seeing him so… depraved. Dex was no stranger to being in control. He loved control; because control meant being in power and being in power meant having an advantage over people. But when it came to you? All control, all power and all advantages disappeared. His thoughts were nothing but about you and the way you made him feel. Because no one had truly made him feel that way before; like he was allowed to give up power and lay in his feelings.
“My cock hurts, m’fuck… Shit.” He groaned again, voice muffled by the pillow as he rolled it around. You hummed, moving both hands to brush sweaty hair away from his forehead. His skin was warm to the touch, you almost thought he had a fever for a second or so. A smile appeared on your face, less mocking than any before. “It hurts, baby? You want me to stop?” You asked, even though you knew Dex would never want to stop unless the safeword was used. So, he shook his head. Pleasure is pain, pain is pleasure.
“That’s a good boy. You can take it, right?” You asked, brushing his sweaty skin with your fingertips until they stopped at his chin. Dex opened his blue eyes just to focus on your face, he licked his lips before talking. “Yeah, I can. I fuckin’ can.” A smirk appeared on his face and his eyes became half-lidded as you pushed two fingers against his lips.
He immediately understood, his jaw dropping and mouth opening to let you push them in.
“That’s it, you’re doing so good, Dex.” You hissed while pressing your fingers against his tongue and deeper inside his mouth. Dex wrapped his lips around your digits and started to suck on them, rolling his tongue around and coating them in his saliva.
He probably didn’t expect you to do it, so a loud muffled moan escaped his mouth when you rolled your hips and pushed his cock deeper inside your sloppy cunt. His head rolled onto the pillow as he now struggled to suck on your fingers and gather his thoughts at the same time. You decided to be merciful to him, and pulled your fingers out of his warm mouth; a thread of saliva connected the tips of your digits to his lips. It made you moan. “God, look at you. I’ve never seen you like that, so submissive and pathetic.” You voiced to the man beneath you.
Dex only replied with a groan, tugging on his restraints once more and you wondered if he felt his skin becoming raw under the rope. Did it add pleasure to him? Given how freaky he was, probably.
“Yeah, no shit… You’re the devil.” He hissed as you rolled your hips once more, clenching your walls around his throbbing cock. He pulsated inside you, pushing against your insides and stretching your cunt so good. A look at where you were both connected made you see the creamy white ring around his girth and how good he also made you feel.
He was so big, filling you up with his mushroom tip slightly kissing your cervix but not enough to make it hurt.
The previous words leaving his mouth made you chuckle. “Come on, it’s just a little teasing. What should I say when you do the same to me?” He snorted, head rolling onto the pillow once more before his mouth fell wide open as you pushed yourself up from his cock. “Fuck, fuck… Your pussy’s so warm.” Dex groaned when you lowered yourself back down all the way onto his length. His back arched from the bed.
Obviously, he was overstimulated from the number of orgasms denied before, and the slightest movements were making him lose his mind.
“Focus, Dex.” You said, moving your hands to his chest. You caressed his scars slowly before focusing too, pressing your palms flat on his pectorals for support. Only then, you started to bounce up and down on his shaft—torturing him once again with your tight pussy. Dex gasped, the bed creaked as he squirmed under you and tried to tug on his restraints. Moans escaped his mouth, blue eyes closed shut as he tried to gather his thoughts with no effort and tears rolled down to his cheeks due to pleasure and overstimulation.
“Please, fuck, let me come this time. I’ll be good, yeah?” He hissed, eyes opening again just to watch your pussy leaking onto his cock; how your juices made everything glisten, how your clit rubbed into his base as you lowered yourself or how you took all of him. “You want to come? You want to fill my pussy, baby?” You asked him with mockery, leaning your upper body toward his chest so your breasts and nipples would rub against his pectorals.
Only then, you fastened your pace, eyebrows furrowing due to pleasure. Tears kept rolling from Dex’s eyes and you moved your face closer just to lick them off of his skin.
The bed creaked as you slammed your pussy down onto his cock, your ass slapping onto his thighs and loud squelching noises echoing in the room from your sloppy pussy. Your walls clenched around him, his pre-cum mixing with your juices and leaking from your hole to stick to his balls.
“I’m going to fill you up, yeah? Going to make sure you’re so fuckin’ full of me.” Dex groaned in your ear before you lifted your upper body up, sitting back perfectly onto his shaft. Your movements were now uncoordinated as you rolled your hips, bouncing with no true support. The noises echoing in the room were nothing but perverted and disgusting; a telltale of the sex that was happening.
You didn’t even reply to the words leaving Dex’s mouth, too busy with rubbing your cunt down against his hairy base—your clit being roughly stimulated that way. One of your hands shifted to your back and lower until it got to your ass. You reached under, which was harder than you expected it would, just to wrap your palm around Dex’s balls. A loud gasp came from his mouth and his back arch from the mattress. “Fuck! Fuck, yes!” He cried out, muffled by the pillow as he hid his face.
You tried your best to mix bouncing and rolling his balls into your palm at the same time; bringing more stimulation to him. The hiding of his face didn’t do anything and you could clearly see all the tears that rolled to his cheeks as he cried from overstimulation. His body squirmed beneath yours, thighs shaking and hips jerked to thrust inside you—which you weren’t sure was on purpose.
His tip rubbed at your entrance, making your pussy leak more juices and wetness. It was a mess; all was sticky and slick and glistening.
Your hand tightened its grip onto Dex’s balls, thumb rubbing at the skin there before almost pinching it. “Fuck! Too much, fuck, I’m going to come!” He cried, bringing more strength when tugging on the rope around his wrists. He didn’t seem to care about burning himself. “Going to come? You want it, baby?” You asked, before suddenly letting his balls fall from your palm just to slap them. Dex groaned loudly, hips jerking and before he had time to warn you; he came.
His whole body contracted, muscles convulsing under you as he shot his load inside your pussy. It was warm, thick and way too much. You could only keep bouncing as he filled you up, dragging his semen all the way down his length and to his base as you fucked yourself on his cock. “Shit! Shit! Coming!” He cried, and you slapped his balls again which made him shake from overstimulation.
Your free hand moved to his pectoral and you held yourself up for supper before giving real bounces on top of him. Your cunt clenched, filled up with his semen that leaked out of your hole in globs just to decorate his base and thighs. “Fuck, Dex—” You cried out too, trying a new angle just to feel his tip rub and hit your g-spot. Your mouth opened wide as pleasure ran through your body, making your thoughts foggy.
Dex cried out as overstimulation made his body shake, and neither was he able to think at that moment.
Your cunt clenched around his softening cock as you finally came—loudly crying out his name, body arching on top of his and pussy pulsating. The bed stopped from creaking and the room was filled with loud breathing for a second before you slowly pulled yourself up from Dex’s cock in a wet, shlick noise. “I think I just saw Heaven.” You joked to him and he only smirked in answer, still needing to gather his thoughts before talking.
Your walls clenched around air before you pushed, which made more come leak from your sloppy hole. Globs of semen fell down directly onto Dex’s cock and he groaned at the view, his shaft twitching for a second. “Untie me.” He finally spoke and you just did that, seeing his red and raw skin from all the tugging. He didn’t seem to care at all, so you didn’t mention it.
All Dex did was wrap his arms around your waist and pull your body down onto his. You were both naked, laying down in silence for what seemed to be eternity. Then, he spoke. “We definitely need to do that again,” his eyes lowered to your face, seeing you almost asleep from all the effort. “Turns out I’m really into overstimulation. And ball torture.” The last words made you laugh out loud. “Uh? Are you now?”
He rolled to face you, one strong hand on your lower back to caress your skin. “Use my knives, next time.” You rolled your eyes at that. “You’re insane, Benjamin Poindexter.”
He leaned his face, pressed his lips to yours for a kiss that only lasted a moment or so. “Yeah, I fuckin’ am. Insane about you.”
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───── dean winchester x gender neutral! reader, sam winchester x gender neutral! reader (separately)
tags : being gifted with good looks was one thing, but both siblings being taller than the average person? that's a whole another story.
warnings / notes : not beta read, reader is shorter than both dean and sam but not specified by how much, wrote with x male reader in mind but I hope its vague enough for gn! readers :)
─── dean winchester
⤷ If Dean's cockiness wasn't enough for the average man, his height added an extra pinch of confidence commonly seen in frat boys with shirts unnecessarily tight around the biceps and chest area.
Although he seemed the average height when standing next to the behemoth that is his younger brother, you'd be reminded of how large he actually is once you stand next to him. With the additional muscles that broaden his frame, his body as sturdy as a wall, Dean could tower over the average person with pure presence alone.
So, obviously, Dean would use his god-blessed height to tower over you 24/7.
He'd purposely press his body against yours from behind, his frame completely hiding yours with a warmth that reverberated through your core and the scruff on his jaw tickling your temple, only to grab a snack from the cabinet above your head and pull away with a teasing glint in his dangerously alluring eyes.
Oh, you need a ladder to get something from the storage room? Sweetheart, he's right there. Before you could even go search for the ladder, Dean would wrap his arms around your thighs and lift you up with a heart fluttering ease. The man won't even hide his smugness when you hastily grip onto his arm, another hand placed against the nape of his neck for balance. Take your time, he is just where he wants to be.
And don't you think you'd be free from the teasing. From making weather jokes while placing his elbow against your shoulder and ignoring your glowering stare with a faux innocent smile to pressing you against the wall with a hand placed besides your head all the while saying the most god-annoying one liners like 'Hey, sweetcheeks. Couldn't see you from all the way down there.' He'd find it even more amusing if you clap back with teasings and nicknames of your own, his grin taking a challenging edge.
What especially drives Dean insane is when you have to pull him down for kisses. Does he intentionally loom over you, slightly pushing himself up with his toes, just to grin at your struggles so that you'd be pushed to the edge? Perhaps, he does. The grin that grows bigger every time you give in and grab the collar of his leather jacket to smash his lips against yours is totally not proof, nope.
Something he might never open up about, and the one time he doesn't loom over you like a smug oak tree, is how much he appreciates it when you take the role of the big spoon during nights where blood splatters and haunted screams burn through his eyelids. With his head against your chest, your heartbeat tying him down to the earth, and his thick arms tightly wrapped around your midriff, sleep comes a lot more easily to him.
─── sam winchester
⤷ This man chose the wrong profession, his ass should've been a basketball player with his whopping 6'4 ft figure. If his youthfully handsome looks wasn't the reason why he made people look at him twice, his height definitely was.
But unless the situation really calls for it (situation usually referring to his hunting gig), Sam never uses his height to gain an unfair advantage over you. In fact, he mainly uses it to benefit you.
If you need to grab a book at the library yet struggle to reach the higher levels of the bookshelves, Sam would immediately abandon whatever he was focusing on and reach it for you, grabbing the book with ease and handing it to you with his ever so charming smile while his puppy dog eyes dripped with honey.
When the winds are too harsh, it becomes a habit for Sam to instinctively slip off his flannel and gently drape it over your shoulders. Ignore the redness on the tip of his ears, that means nothing. It totally doesn't mean Sam is admiring how good his clothes look on you, not at all.
God, does it do something for him when he sees you go on your tiptoes in an attempt to reach his lifts. Sam can never hide the amused grin that crinkles his eyes at your adorable attempts which usually ends up in him being the one to lean down so it's less work for you.
However, it is good to remind yourself that he does share the same blood as Dean.
There might be a few fits of mischief where your favorite mug is placed on a cabinet one too high just in time for Sam to suspiciously appear in the kitchen, shoulder against the wooden frame with a coy grin on his face, or instances where he'd smugly pull away your drink out of your reach, only willing to give it back if you give him a loving smooch to his very lonely lips.
But in the end, nothing will ever win his heart more than how you feel when he hugs you from behind, his lean yet muscular back pressed flush against your chest. Especially on days that wear him down immensely and makes his shoulders ache with an unnatural heaviness, nothing will make him feel better than to have you in his arms and hunch over you to hide in the crook of your neck, to be able to pretend the world outside isn't so loud.
getting rafe’s name tattooed on your arm ( this contains “suggestive” content )
"ah, shit that hurts" you hissed, eyes glued to where the needle was pressed against the skin of your arm as you tried not to twist away.
the scary looking man that was tattooing you let out a sigh. he had been sighing a lot since you first sat down, "it's not going to get finished if you don't stay the fuck still"
ordinarily, you would probably cuss him out for taking that kind of tone. but considering he had a tattoo gun in his hands, you decided to keep your thoughts to yourself.
you tried your best to relax, focusing on a random spot on the as you fought to ignore the slight stinging sensation.
minutes passed by and before you knew it, he was tapping your shoulder as if to say "i'm done, get the fuck up"
you sat up straight, wanting to take a proper look at the permanent writing that was now etched onto your body.
rafe was going to lose his mind, you thought to yourself as you admired his name on your wrist.
it was only small, but it was there.
time soon went by and you were suddenly back at your apartment, and you were a nervous wreck.
your arms were behind your back and you were hesitant to go inside, mentally preparing yourself for a potential negative reaction.
there was no time for second thoughts because the door opened inwards before you had the chance to wallow in your own.
rafe was on the other side, leaning on the doorframe with raised eyebrows like you had just been caught doing something you shouldn’t be, "why are you lurking out here like a weirdo?" he asked.
you blew out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, "i have something to show you but i’m starting to think it was a bad idea and it was crazy and it was impulsive”
he pursed his lips in thought before grabbing your hand to pull you inside and stop you blabbering, only it was the arm that had the tattoo.
you would've crashed into him if he hadn't have put his other hand firmly on your shoulder.
your tattooed arm was gripped in his fingers, his jaw tensing and his eyes narrowing as he took in the permanent writing on your skin.
"what's this?" he murmured, eyes not leaving that one spot on your arm.
you shrugged in fake nonchalance, "i think they call it a tattoo but what do i know"
rafe nodded and you were unsure of whether it was to himself or to your words.
it was always hard to gauge his reaction to something, right now he could be pissed off or happy, you never could tell.
he walked forward until your back was flat against the wall behind you, the cold surface not being the only thing to make you shiver.
rafe was stood over you, his breath warm against your face as you looked into his blue eyes.
”why did you do this?” he asked, hands resting on either side of your neck in a “non threatening” sort of way.
your eyes widened in response, regret slowly seeping into your bones because you just knew he wasn’t happy with it.
“i-i don’t know. i wanted you to know i’m yours i guess?” you stuttered, wanting to shoot yourself over how pathetic you sounded.
rafe tilted your head back so he was the only thing you could see in your eyeline “think i didn’t already know that? huh?”
he leaned forward and left a lingering soft kiss against your jaw as his hands slid down your back and settled on the curve of your ass.
rafe’s soft kisses turned rough as he started to bite and nip at the flesh on your neck.
“this tattoo is a symbol of what we already knew, sweetheart. at least now the assholes who try their luck with you will know exactly who you belong to” he says, taking your arm into his hand, rubbing his thumb over the tender skin.
he shook his head in amusement but you could see the pride and possessiveness in his watchful gaze, “you’re fuckin’ crazy, baby”
rafe didn’t say anything else, he just pulled you by the hand until you were inside of the bedroom you both shared and pushed you onto the plush bed.
“gonna let me thank you?” he questioned lowly, kneeling down in front of you, anticipation filling the air.
you nodded your head without hesitation, a smug smirk of amusement coming from rafe at your quick reaction.
“i love how you look when you’re mine” he whispered, pressing a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh.
if this was his way of thanking you, you were going to be full of tattoos before you knew it.
It’s the feeling of your cold tongue that brings a moan out of Sam’s mouth; it’s quiet, wet, full of pleasure.
He tries his best to lower his voice so you don’t hear it but it doesn’t truly work, and you’re left with the sound vibrating in your ear. The tip of your tongue presses against the slit of his tip, teasing the sensitive skin here before curling all the way around his mushroom head. The brown-haired man tries his best to not jerk his hips up toward your mouth but fuck, it’s hard to not do so.
“F-fuck, feels so good.” You hear the words leaving his mouth, all trembling when you run your tongue all the way down his length and toward his balls. You don’t reply, because you’re way too busy with his cock to care. But you sure feel the way Sam’s thigh trembles under your hand when you squeeze it, making his cock twitch against your tongue.
Your free hand moves to grab it at the base, angling for the tip to rub onto your lips. It makes you smile, to see him so submissive; it’s so new, so fresh. “You like this, Sammy? You like my tongue playing with your cock?” You end up asking after letting your tongue lick up at his sticky tip, the salty pre-cum on your taste buds.
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?”
clark always knows when your day at the daily planet has been exhausting; maybe it’s the way you step through the apartment door quieter than usual, the way your shoulders slump beneath your coat like the weight of the entire city somehow followed you home, or the tired exhale you let out the second you think you’re finally alone. and clark, being clark—being your boyfriend, soft-hearted and attentive in every way that matters, doesn’t overwhelm you with questions. instead, he looks up from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen counter, glasses slipping slightly down his nose, and offers you that familiar gentle smile before crossing the room in a few easy steps, arms already opening for you.
you’d fall into him immediately, almost instinctively, your forehead resting against his chest while his arms circle around you and pull you flush against him.
there’s something unfairly comforting about the way clark holds you: solid and steady, warm in a way that makes the entire world outside suddenly feel so far away. one of his hands settles at your waist while the other moves up slowly, fingers brushing at your nape, careful and featherlight as if he knows exactly where all the tension has been building. “long day at work?” he’d ask softly, voice carrying that quiet tenderness that somehow always makes your chest ache a little. you wouldn’t answer with words, only a small nod against him, and clark would understand immediately.
he’d guide you over toward the couch near the window, sitting first before gently pulling you down so you’re half-curled against him, practically tucked into his side while the city lights glow faintly beyond the glass. one arm stays securely around your shoulders while his fingers absentmindedly trace slow patterns against your arm, grounding and patient, never rushing you to say more than you want to.
after a few quiet minutes, he’d press a soft kiss against the top of your head and let out the faintest hum, content simply existing there with you. “you know,” he’d murmur after a while, thumb brushing gently over your sleeve, “i could fly you somewhere quiet for a bit. somewhere with no deadlines, no phones… just us.” you’d laugh softly for the first time all evening, and clark would smile against your hair, holding you a little closer. “or,” he’d add quietly, warm amusement slipping into his voice, “we stay right here, and i keep holding you until you forget what stressed you out in the first place.”
“that sounds like a good idea to me. just forgetting today inside your arms. there’s no better way to finish the day.” you’d voice at him and all he would do is lean his face closer to press a gentle kiss to your lips, arms tightening around your body.
SUPER SUIT ━━╋━
mdni .ᐟ thigh riding, dry humping, clothed sex, praise, clark talks you through it...
“such a pretty girl…”
clarks holding down your hips tight as he lounges back in your bed tired from his long day, he's got you trapped on his thigh and he knows how needy you are. you can't help it. he's just so busy all the time from the daily planet to saving the world and helping stuck kitties from trees. it's a little unfair you think, makes you a little greedy, a little possessive.
and fuck if that doesn't turn clark on.
that look in your eye while you chew your lip raw, rolling your hips across the thick, rugged fabric of his super suit. he could feel your cunt already soaking through your panties with every throb of need. it drove him crazy, but he kept himself grounded, and you, by keeping his big hands around your waist and pressing you down onto the pure muscle of his thigh with little effort. you let out quiet whimpers while he sat back watching you crumble before him. taking it all in, the thin of your sleep shirt with the peaks of your tits poking through, the way your eyes rolled back slightly as you got yourself off.
“mhm… that's it— just take what you need angel.”
even while you were literally grinding your soaked pussy over him, he was still a gentleman, it drove you insane.
your hips twitch at the way he's watching you, so patiently with that little smirk. clark's quick to notice the fault in your pace, making his smirk grow.
“need help baby?”
you whine, clasping your hands over his chest, your fingers tracing the red and yellow embellishment of his suit, pouting a little.
“but you said you were tired…”, you whisper a little embarrassed now.
“yeah not for you—”, he lets out a laugh, softly flicking your forehead.
“clark—”, a giggle escapes your lips as you rub your head softly.
“nah uh— no whining, I always have energy for you sweetness—”
clark smiles, pulling you closer, pressing kisses across your face and shifting his thigh juuusttt right, enough for your clit to get enough friction to have you slowly seeing stars.
he's half hard now.
you only know because he's just that big, his cock already bulging through his suit.
now his hands are dragging your dripping pussy across his thigh with ease, a little faster now but he's being so patient with you, cooing softly and rubbing soft circles into your hip bones. you're practically limp now, just focused on the soft gooey feeling between your legs and the knot in your stomach that was so, so close to breaking.
“yeah— just lemme do all the work—”
“so pretty baby—”
“gonna cum soon angel?”
his voice is low and firm as he whispers into your hair, one hand leaves your hip to rub over the small of your back and run over the supple skin of your ass, squeezing softly.
“just a little more i can feel it…”
he's listening closely to your whines, whimpers and fluttery heart beat. he doesn't have to ask if youre gonna cum he just knows. he knows every tick of your body so well, it's like he's studied you or some shit.
“it's okay, cum over my thigh, go ahead—”
“make a mess sweetheart, it's okay.”
you moan into him, nails digging into the shoulders of his suit, holding him closer as the band in your stomach snaps, creaming in your little panties and letting it drip down onto his suit. he holds you tight in his warm, comforting embrace as you gasp and cry out, arching through your high.
clark just smiles and holds you close, blanketing your small frame, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your skin.
“did so good f'me— so good—”
once you calm down and ran through all your jolts and jitters he holds your face between his palm and rubs gently at your tear soaked cheeks, pressing soft kisses over your tired out expression with a quiet laugh.
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nsfw tw. 𝒇𝒕 𝜗ৎ — Dean & Sam Winchester and Castiel Novak. English isn’t my first language, so I use grammar checkers to translate. Sorry in advance if anything sounds weird.
CASTIEL ✸ COWGIRL
At first, I thought that the favorite position of our favorite angel would be missionary. However, the inexperienced Castiel would adore you taking control and teaching him the perfect rhythm while you ride his lap.
I imagine he would place his hands on your back, not to guide you, but to reverently trace your skin in time with the sway of his hips. His fingers would timidly tangle in your hair as he leaned in to kiss you. For him, seeing your face twisting in pleasure is the most beautiful abstract work of art in the world. He wants to understand every one of your reactions—how a simple touch can make you cry out in ecstasy and how pleasure affects you just as intensely as it does him, a completely new sensation.
“You look so beautiful,” he murmurs, before giving a gentle squeeze to the soft skin of your hips. “The way your body moves… it’s a very new sensation for me. Please, don’t stop.”
DEAN ✸ DOGGYSTYLE
Unlike our beautiful Cass, Dean Winchester is an absolute fanatic of the filthiest side of things. His main obsession? fucking you on all fours until your legs shake.
He loves having a perfect view of your arched back and that round, firm ass, along with the obscene sound of their bodies slamming together hard. With one hand, he presses your face into the pillow, while with the other he grips your hips and drives them back to the brutal rhythm of his thrusts. Sometimes he even spreads your ass cheeks just for the sheer thrill of watching his cock slide in and out of your wet, swollen pussy. The wet, almost dirty sound of his balls slapping against your clit pulls screams from you that sound like pure music to him.
“Come on, baby. You can take it,” he says with a dark chuckle. His hand wraps around your throat, lifting your torso until your back is pressed flush against his chest. “That fucking perfect pussy of yours… I’m gonna fill it until it overflows.”
SAM ✸ SPOONING
I feel like Sammy Winchester would be the most likely of the three to have a somewhat less conventional favorite position. And I’m sure that, although he’s the softest and tenderest of the brothers, that doesn’t make him soft in bed at all. If Supernatural has shown us anything, it’s that Sam is incredibly passionate.
Just imagine it: his body pressed tight against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he covers it with hickeys and bites, a strong arm wrapped around your hips so you can’t pull away even an inch, and as the finishing touch, his cock buried to the hilt inside your pussy from a spectacular, completely new angle, fucking you with such force that the bed creaks with every thrust.
He’s not the most talkative in bed, unlike Dean (that man never shuts up and I could definitely confirm it), but he’d let out low, husky moans in your ear along with whispered praises: “Fuck, you’re the best… Your pussy always takes me so well, so hot and tight.”
summary ﹏ You have been serving at Rhaenyra's sides for years now, and you can't deny the tension between the two of you. When the silver-haired woman calls you to her chambers one night, you realize it's not as one-sided as you thought it was.
cw ﹏ ( +18 ) mdni / smut fic. gn!servant!reader. little to no decriptions of canon events. forbidden romance trope. mutual pining. power imbalance dynamic. emotional intimacy. dominant leaning partner. dub-con (during overstimulation (?)). praise. hair pulling. body worship. fingering (rhaenyra receiving). begging. breasts / nipples play. multiple orgasms. oral sex (rhaenyra receiving). bodily fluids focus (wetness). squirting. aftercare. implied continuation.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
The first thing you had learned when entering service to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen was that everyone underestimated her.
They saw a young woman born into privilege, silver-haired and sharp-tongued, a princess who rode dragons and wore gowns stitched with gold thread. They whispered behind carved stone pillars and muttered beneath their breath about her temper, her defiance, her refusal to bend the way noble daughters were expected to bend.
But they did not see what you saw, no, they did not see the weight she carried.
The exhaustion behind violet eyes after another bitter dinner shared with her father’s council, the tension that sat permanently in her shoulders when Queen Alicent was around, the quiet fury simmering beneath her skin every time another lord spoke over her, questioned her, dismissed her. And so you treated her the way no one else seemed willing to: like royalty, like the queen she had all the rights to be.
At first, you had simply been one among many servants assigned to her chambers in Red Keep when she was younger, but then she had started requesting you, preferring the fact that you were both around the same age.
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?”
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