warnings: smut, no plot, mostly getting touchy (no piv sex, but it's implied), making out
a/n: heyyy so this is an old drabble of mine, but i think it's good enough to post!! it's my first time sharing my writing so yeah 😥 (eng isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes!!) it's inspired by doja cat's "agora hills" bc i remember when it first came out it was the only thing in my head 😭😭 also it's more early seasons dean for me (always in my heart)
♡°•~
"we don't have time, dean.. you know sam can be here any minute" you mewled out giggling between already heated breaths. his hands were on your thighs, your waist, literally everywhere when you leaned back in the backseat.
"then we have to hurry, right?" he said while kissing your jaw, "fucking hell, dean" you laughed out, but it was too late to stop now. you were as horny as he was right now. he was like a drug to you. and you were a drug to him. the more of you the more you wanted to take. god, he was far from perfect, but did you care? no, not really.
his lips on your neck nipping lightly, making you shiver. his hands fumbling between your bodies, trying to unzip your jeans; your's tugging his hair, moaning in his mouth, "dean," you look at him with needy doe eyes. "yeah, baby. i got you"
he said as he finally took off your jeans, leaving you in panties and your top. as a gentleman he is, he put his jacket under your back so you could be as comfortable as possible in the small space in the backseat of baby.
you were vulnerable under him. he was making you breathless. your mind was dizzy and hot.
you pulled him in by his collar and wrapped your legs around him. your pussy touching his clothed cock. a raspy moan escaped his lips. you just couldn't wait any longer - your hands quickly found their way to his belt, zipper and boxers. fucking hell, he was aching for it and you could see that.
"fuck, you're needy, sweetheart," he said and pulled you closer to him. "can say the same about you, dean," you giggled out a little breathless and gave him a quick kiss. your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and you could feel his breath shudder on your neck. he was hot and hard in your hand.
you've had sex a countless times, but it was still amazing. he was amazing. no man could make you feel so good like dean winchester would.
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thinking about soldier boy comforting ur broken self in his own strange, creepy, morally gray way ˋ°•*⁀➷
cw: sb being a man, family trauma?? piv. not proofread wc: 2k~ mdni, u will be blocked
you’d gotten into an argument at home. after packing a bag, you ran straight to ben. for what reason? you didn’t really know urself. he’d been in your life for all but four months, and he took ur virginity in the back of his car.
when he opened the door to his apartment that night, you felt sheer stupidity crash over you, and you couldn’t really explain much when he asked what was wrong. just that you felt awful and hopeless. you went without protest when he pulled you inside by your arm.
maybe you’d been in his place before, maybe you hadn’t. either way, it felt safer than ever that night. he offered you water, let you explain your night in broken sentences. his eyes roamed ur body slowly. you were barely wearing anything decent, really. and he knows you left in a hurry and he knows ur vulnerable.. but that didn’t negate the fact that u looked so sexy. those little tight leggings lit a fire in his stomach.
so he led you to the bedroom. carefully. tactfully. “you should lie down, doll, it’ll calm your nerves.” and you listened.
his bed was warm. so were his arms. he rubbed his big palm against your shoulder in an attempt to soothe. he listened to you complain about your family and wiped runaway tears. you were distracted enough to not notice his hand rub lower, and lower. down your waist, stopping to grip your hip. he wasn’t exactly looking at your face anymore. you kept talking and he nodded encouragingly.
“i hate them all. they offer nothing good to me, i hate that i was born into them,” you closed your eyes. but when you did, you felt his fingers brushing your crotch, and heard a soft groan escape him. you opened your eyes to him shifting closer, pressing his fingers firmer against your clit through the fabric.
“you just need to get your mind off things. i’ll help, c’mere,” he muttered as he dug his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down in one quick tug. you gasped, he grinned.
then suddenly you were being lifted, his arms encircling your waist as he repositioned you above him to straddle his thighs. between them, you felt his hard on and your face burned.
those same big hands dragged up your thighs, stopping at your hips again. he gave them a light smack and laughed at your little gasp. he brushed his thumbs over the soft fabric of your panties, and he didn’t wait any longer before he guided your hips to move, grinding your pussy against his cock. he groaned, clenching his teeth.
your hands rested atop his chest and your face was twisted with confusion. the ache in your chest for your terrible family deepened, unlike what he suggested by providing this remedy. your heart squeezed, but his voice broke your thoughts.
“been wondering when we’d do this again. so glad you stopped by, babydoll. like you knew i missed this pussy.”
you could only blink, your lip quivering. your silence encouraged him.
he lifted his hips, and by doing so, lifted you, as he pushed his sweats and boxers down. his cock sprung free and brushed against your thigh, pulling a deep groan from his lips.
“fuck yeah, baby. hold still.”
he pushed your panties aside roughly, one hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, arching for him. he didn’t warn you before he nudged his tip at your cunt. he let out a deep, satisfied groan, his hand splayed against your back to hold you still. he smeared your slick over himself, mixing his precum into your folds as if to make you his. he couldn’t- wouldn’t wait longer before pushing inside. the sudden stretch made you gasp and he looked up, smiling at that face you made. it was only the second time, so he knew you were still getting used to.. things.
he sat you upright again, straight to sit on his dick. his eyes flicked back down before long, watching you slowly sink down to accommodate his size, your pussy swallowing his cock so beautifully. his eyes narrowed, big hands gripping your hips again to help you down the rest of the way…
it wasn’t what you had in mind. one of the last things, in fact. but you didn’t protest. you went along with it. maybe he was right? maybe you did need a distraction. taking a deep breath, you averted your eyes as you started riding him, slow and cautious, feeling his cock drag in and out of your cunt. another groan filled your ears, and his hands never left your hips, guiding you.
“you’re a natural, sweet thing. fuck yes, so tight…”
his words actually helped, but there was a small twinge of revulsion hiding somewhere in your body you couldn’t locate. yet his grunts and groans overrode your unease. his thumb brushing circles over your clit sparked pleasure within you. his hand sliding up to shove your shirt up off your tits to squeeze them once possessively made you focus on how fucking good he felt inside you.
temporarily. because your brain caught up to the situation and your chin wobbled upon meeting his gaze again. lecherous eyes. carnal smirk. he didn’t care, he just wanted to get into your pants. and he won. then the memories of earlier at home flooded back in despite you keeping up steady pace as you fucked him, his cock impaling you over and over again. tears flooded your eyes and you let out a sharp whimper, fingers flexing against his chest.
ben noticed your weeping.
“… hey, hey. c’mere, doll,” as he pulled you down, flush against his chest. that considerate gesture pushed you over the edge, and you sobbed against his skin, burying your head in his neck. for a moment it felt safe in his arms. one peaceful moment of being held, helped, your back rubbed soothingly.
then he shifted beneath you, adjusting on his bed, bending his knees just so. his arms tightened around you, not consoling- securing. not even that, really. caging. he drove his hips up with a snap, plunging his cock inside you once, hard. then again, making you gasp. then again, establishing a firm pace.
but it only worsened your cries. your face crumpled, fists against his chest. where was there to go? what else was there to do?
he didn’t ignore you. “that’s it, sweetheart, let it out. that’s my girl, let’s fuck all that outta our systems… good girl,” he growled, fucking up into u, relentless. like he was purging himself.
the worst part was.. it felt amazing. you squeezed around his cock and he moaned, deep and gravelly. your sobs were eclipsed by his groans, the sound of his skin slapping against yours, your head lightly bouncing against his chest with each movement. it was like you were splitting in half. your body there, your mind and emotions elsewhere. so when you came, it came as a surprise to you. you let out a loud, watery cry- only to be overshadowed by his own grunt of pleasure as he followed. his cum filled you up, and he kept his hips up, flexed against you to ensure absolutely no leakage.
a beat passed before he let himself collapse onto his bed, panting, gasping for air. his hands smoothed down your back and he slapped your ass hard- pulling a gasp from you, which made him laugh, before he squeezed it to soothe.
his hoarse voice met your ear. “shh, just relax. you did good, doll… fuck, you know how to make a man happy, sweetheart. seriously. fuck…”
your sobs quieted, but your tears kept flowing, rolling down your cheeks, falling onto his skin. he heard your little kitten sniffles, you obviously weren’t okay. he squeezed the fat of your ass idly, not having much more to say. he suddenly adjusted again, rolling you to lie next to him. this sudden loss of contact made your chest shake with sobs again.
thankfully, his hand settled against your back, holding you against him. his eyes shut and his chest heaved. “stop crying. told you you just needed a good fuck.. hell… you should piss off your folks more often.”
a/n: yea this was inspired. my head hurts im going to sleep i’ll probably edit this a little in the morning and throughout the day i just wanted to post ab soldier boy again. it’s hard not writing the name i personally replaced ben with for him bc i hate the name benjamin but oh well. love u guys gn
imagine losing your voice and getting a sore throat. it's cold, rainy and very windy. it's the season. but then you can't go to work because you HAVE to speak to customers and you feel useless in bed, at home. it's not really because you can't work. it's because the reason your voice is gone is so fucking mundane and stupid. the cold. Your voice should've been gone because you were fucked on your back so hard you screamed your head off and messed up your throat. or maybe you let that old man fuck your throat raw after a tough day of work. it's so stupid. so silly.
pairing. raymond smith x fem!reader
word count. 1932
summary. ray's mindless touches on your thigh while you read begin to catch up with you, though he's too busy working to realise. so he offers you a promise, "if you can give me twenty minutes. I'll fuck you for twice as long."
warnings. 18+ only! general filth, little bit of fingering, pinv, horny writer's thought pls excuse me. mdni
> I know this will not get read bc he's not popular anymore but I needed to get it out of my system (he's still not out my system btw, it’s a sickness. help!)
⎯ ☆ ⎯
It’s quiet, the evening calm. The only sounds coming from the crackle of the fireplace and soft, steady breaths. Both yours and Ray’s attention obtained by your individual papers in hand: yours, a book, and in Raymond’s, a stack of papers he’s been asked to look over.
The feel of it all so comfortable, so familiar.
The backs of your thighs horizontally rest over his, lounging across him with your back propped against the arm of the sofa — your new read held close to your face. Ray’s seated position remains close, tucked to you like you are to him. Nestled into one another casually.
His feet sit on the coffee table ahead, one hand clutching the pile of papers, his other resting over your thigh, touch mindless as he grazes your bare skin. The careful caress simply an absentminded act, an act of spontaneous, unprompted protection maybe. His focus fully engrossed in a page of nothing but information and numbers.
Though to you, it wasn’t just nothing. Ray’s thoughtless touches act as a distraction to you, each stroke and brush and graze pulling your attention further and further away from your story until all that remains are muddled, merged sentences. The plot lost to you by now.
And so you peek at him over your book, gaze focused and almost delirious as you watch him, completely unaware of your lusty set of eyes. You observe him, vision fixed on his casual grip on you: ringed pinky and large, veiny hand perched upon your skin like it’s where it belonged. Everything about it so confident, so manly. Cardigan woven with wool and residual notes of whiskey and cigarettes — like it was a fortuitous, accidental representation as to who he is: gentle and virile.
You quietly pay attention to the way he works, his glasses resting atop his nose as he skims the page — his articulate, precise nature urging him to comprehend everything written. His heed to detail being one of the things most attractive about him. And yet, he had no idea what he was doing to you. Sat there, utterly unaware of his power.
Though that changes as your breathing grows inadvertently heavy, a sudden sharp inhale from you makes his neck snap to follow the sound. His eyes now focused on yours over your novel, a slight quirk in his brow as if to analyse you.
Your expression —or the top half, what he can see— is blissed, pained even. These last thirty-some minutes of gentle grazing begin to catch up with you.
He hums shortly, the noise an attempt to scope you out, though by now there’s no need for connecting dots or guessing — all evidence as clear as day. He looks down to his palm just above your knee, your thighs pressed tight together in an effort to alleviate some of the pressure you feel between them.
He uncrosses his ankles on the coffee table and leans forward, placing the stack of papers beside his whiskey tumbler. Ray clears his throat in his fist, a sly, faint smile forming behind his hand as if he’s debating with himself. His eyes drift down to the hand on your lower thigh, gaze following the ever so slow tail as he itches under your robe.
“You didn’t want to disturb me, did you?” Raymond questions, eyes pleased and proud as they flicker up to you.
“No,” you murmur with a faint shake of the head, voice catching in your throat as you watch.
His fingers move inwards and under your nightdress, slotting between your thighs as if to separate them — his hand protruding through both thin layers of fabric.
“So patient of you,” he teases, tilting his head forward, peering at you over the top of his glasses. “Must’ve been agony.”
It was. It really was.
With his spare hand, he reaches for your book and takes it from your hold — placing it open and faced down beside his papers to keep your space. He pulls back to sit in his original position, feet now planted on the floor, knees apart in a manspread. He taps at his thigh, running a hand down the beef of it like he was beckoning you, summoning you almost.
“Come on,” he whispers, the instruction soft as he gestures you along. He taps at it again and rolls his hips underneath himself to reposition — preparing for you.
With an excited giggle, you do as asked, finally about to get what you want after all of his mindless teasing. You situate yourself over his lap, knees either side of his thighs as you use his shoulders for your support — keeping you up right. His eyes fix on you above, watching the antsy knitting and curving of your brows.
He spreads his arms either side along the back of the leather chesterfield, maintaining his dominance while he lets you take the lead. Or so he lets you think.
You reach between yourselves, your fingers hurriedly finicking with his belt, urging him out of his trousers. Your too quick movements stall your attempts, and you huff, the sound more similar to a whimper than anything else.
His head cocks, amused, watching you fiddle with the buckle. Watching you fail with the buckle.
He lifts a hand from its spot behind the sofa, redirecting it to your cheek — palm large and warm as he cups the side of your face, making you look at him. Ray’s touch glides backwards to behind your neck, thumb resting over your ear as he urges you closer. Pulling you inwards.
“Give me some sugar first.”
You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before moving away, trying to move away. Though he has other plans. His hold firm behind your neck to keep you there — bringing you back in so he could return the kiss. His beard skims at your chin as he deepens and roughens the kiss, intensifying the moment.
Though his dick is not yet hard, the presence of him is just as noticeable as if it were. The faint brushes of his big, thick cock through his trousers sends your mind into a tizzy. All your bodily responses become all the more evident, as if you’re betraying yourself.
And with your attention consumed by the way he kisses you, he’s slipping his other hand between you both, reaching between your thighs. He itches a finger to skim down your cunt and you jolt, his touch catching you by surprise. You moan into his mouth, the sound stifled and muffled, before you pull away.
You look down to watch, but your view is obstructed by your fabric pooling around your thighs. And then he clicks his tongue, eyes still boring on your face. You follow the noise, looking back up and he nods slowly, wordlessly praising you for following along.
With your gaze fixed on his, he’s hooking his finger into the elastic of your underwear, parting it aside within his very skilled hand. He trails down your slit, all arousal noticeable when he’s met with no resistance, the slick of your cunt granting him easy access to toy with you.
He raises a brow, both satisfied and impressed. His touch remains light as he brushes the pad of his middle finger downwards, circling your entrance briefly before he’s slipping inside your cunt.
It was something, but not enough. Nowhere close to being enough.
You wrap your arms around his neck, mouth grazing his with the closeness.
“More,” you utter against his lips, a slight whine to your voice. “Another.”
Your hips wind involuntarily, like you’re preemptively chasing after something — anticipating it. The feel of a lone finger is far from what you needed to satiate the gaping want.
“Another what?” he speaks into your mouth, a twinge of whiskey being tasted on his tongue. He knew what he was doing, and he was abusing his power over you. “You’re a smart girl. Tell me.”
“Finger. Another finger,” you plead. Your answer is quick, like you thought the speed of your response will get you what you want faster.
He tuts quietly, lips brushing against yours as he shakes his head.
All you can respond with is a whinge, a frustrated whinge at that and your hips still. The sensation of his finger being withdrawn from you. You mumble a faint, “What?” when you feel his hand part from behind your head, the one near your cunt too.
And then his hands drop to his lap, placing them between your thighs as he unfastens his belt — the jingling sound of the metal making your eyes widen, lighten almost. His hips raise underneath you as he tugs on the waistband of his trousers, pulling them down just enough to comfortably reach into his boxers.
He wraps a hand around himself and brings his cock out over the top, fisted grip tight as he gives it a few pumps — polishing his head as if to ready himself. With his other hand, he’s bunching the fabric of your garments, holding them up so he could guide himself closer to your cunt underneath.
He knocks his head at your clit just to see and hear and feel you shudder, a response he often loved from you. And so with you right where he wants you, right at the edge, he’s lining up with you — his eyes fixed on yours like it's all coming from a place of muscle memory, not needing sight to know what he’s doing.
Ray presses the tip of his dick against your pussy, the shape of his head kissing at your entrance so perfectly. And when he feels like you’ve suffered enough, he’s feeding himself into you, filling you from underneath as you lower down — meeting him halfway.
Strength in your neck dissipates, your forehead collapsing against his as you inhale shakily, taking all of him until nothing remains. His balls pressing up against your cunt’s lips like you’re sitting on them.
You lean in to kiss him while you give yourself a moment to reaccustom to him, familiarising with the thick feel of his cock. Your breath catches in your throat when you feel him bump up into you, a small jut upwards knocking the air out your lungs.
With himself wedged fully inside, he moves a hand to your throat, lightly holding under your jaw. There’s no pressure behind his touch, simply the presence there to guide you, to feel you. He keeps his mouth to yours, swallowing the little gasps you make and he tests the waters once more — adjusting his hips, pushing himself up into you entirely. The full weight of you perched upon his lap, sat on his dick.
“This what you wanted?” he murmurs, speaking against your lips.
You nod. Blissed, hazy eyes doing the talking for you as if you’ve suddenly become incapable of speaking.
Ray runs his spare hand behind you and to the cheek of your ass, palm resting over the satin fabric as he guides you — ushering your hips forward to grind over him. Though the presence of his touch is short-lived as he reaches forward, collecting his papers from before.
With his hand on your jaw, he brings you inwards, tucking your face into his neck. He brings the papers in his view, holding the stack just to the side of you.
“If you can give me twenty minutes to finish this” he says, voice soft beside you. “I’ll fuck you for twice as long,” Ray whispers, his words a promise.
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i maintain that "excuse me! look at me when i'm talking to you" is an extremely insane thing to say to the young baby deer lookinh priest youve been handling and ordering almost into subspace for three days straight and making eyes at while also being married
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my angst-loving ass kinda wishes something Terrible™ would happen to Langdon, just so Robby could have that moment of realization that he almost lost him and get his head out of his ass. Also I am a little tired of watching Frank suffer for him it would be nice to switch things up for once
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