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pawnshopbleus · 5 months

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On Top

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader

Warnings - Smut, Penis in vagina sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Abortion is mentioned once, Angst with a happy ending. Not beta read :0

Authors Note - I think this is the first time I’ve written p in v sex so please bear with me.

Standing in front of the door to the Snow residence, you made sure you had everything. The basket you brought over for Coriolanus and his family was filled with food, gifts, and roses for Grandma’am. You wanted to celebrate Coriolanus’s historic win in this year's Hunger Games. Well, Lucy Grey won, but she wouldn’t have done without your Coriolanus.

Your knuckles tapped the door three times and you patently waited until the door opened to reveal Grandma’am’s signature snow-white hair. She smiled at you and embraced you. She stepped aside and let you enter the home you had become so familiar with over the years.

“Grandma’am, I wanted to bring this little gift for Coriolanus’s big win. The flowers are for you, by the way,” you winked and placed the basket on the table. “Speaking of, where might he be.”

Grandma’am's eyes softened at your comment. “He’s with the dean,” she said, “He will be here any moment. You can wait for him in his room if you’d like.” Grandma’am rushed over to examine a particularly pretty white rose.

You sat on Coriolanus’s bed tracing hearts on his pillow for what seemed like hours before his door opened. He looked frantic as if someone found out something they weren’t supposed to find.

“Come on, Coryo, you’re supposed to be smiling. Lucy Grey won. Aren’t you happy?”

“I cheated,” he sighed.

Your heart stopped. He what? Never in a million years did you think that he would do such a thing. With strong women like Tigris and Grandma’am raising him, you would have thought that he had the decency to break up with a woman before he did that.

Coriolanus shook his head as soon as he realized that you might have been taking his comment in the wrong way. “I cheated in the games. Not on you. I would never do that.”

Your body relaxed and then it shot back up again. “Wait, what do you mean you cheated in the games? Is that even possible?”

Coriolanus explained what he did in order to get Lucy Grey to win. The compact mirror that used to belong to his mother had been packed with rat poison, poisonous to anyone who came in contact with it. He also put his father's handkerchief which was covered in Lucy Grey's scent in the snake's cage. If the snakes were familiar with her scent then they wouldn’t kill her. So it wasn’t her singing that saved her, it was Coriolanus.

“What are they going to do to you?” Your eyebrows scrunched together with worry. You couldn’t lose Coriolanus for his stupid, yet chivalrous actions.

“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to think about the future. Right now, I want to live in the moment with the prettiest girl in all of Panem.” Coriolanus smiled at how your face heated up so quickly, but deep down he was hurting. He knew what his punishment was. Twenty years of service as a peacekeeper in the Districts. He would leave the Capital and everything he’s known since he was a baby. That he could deal with, but losing you would be the hardest thing he would have to deal with.

He knew that you would run to your father and beg him to get Coriolanus out of serving, but he didn’t want you over-exhausting your father's resources. He was a big boy and he needed to learn how to deal with his consequences. He would be fine. After all, Snow lands on top.

He wanted to live in this moment with you. He wanted to memorize every inch of your body. He wanted to hold onto that memory and make it last.

Your smile calmed him. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, eyes focused on your lips.

You nodded your head and smiled into the kiss. It was soft and sensual, vastly different from the kisses that the two of you usually share. Your lips brushed together as your bodies got closer to each other. By the time the two of you broke apart, you were under him, his forearms caging you underneath him. There was no need for him to do that. This is where you wanted to be, with Coriolanus. The toxic and tyrannical world that you lived in was long forgotten as she swooped in for another kiss.

His lips traveled down to your cheek, then your jaw, and settled on your neck. He spent the majority of his time kissing and nibbling at the skin on your neck. There would be pretty little marks on your skin later, reminding people that you belonged to him. Coriolanus doesn’t remember when he got this territorial, but he sure loved the fact that Strabo Plinth’s beautiful daughter was his girlfriend. His girlfriend to mark and fuck and love whenever he wanted (with your consent of course.)

You laughed as Coriolanus licked the sensitive patches of skin that he nibbled raw. “My parents are going to kill me when they see what you’ve done.”

Coriolanus kissed your lips one more time in response to your comment. He then resumed his exploration of your body. His hands traveled down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal the bra that he unclasped in less than five seconds. He threw it on the floor of his bedroom, letting it get hooked onto the pile of books in the corner.

Coriolanus kissed in between the valley of your breasts. He flicked his tongue over your sensitive nipples. It was cold in the Capital of Panem and unfortunately, the Snow’s didn’t have indoor heating. Maybe it was because they didn’t want to melt.

You sighed in pleasure as Coriolanus continued to explore your breasts. After five minutes of teasing, he began to travel south to the part where you needed him the most. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, “may I?”

You nodded, “Ever the gentleman.”

With your permission, he ripped your pants off of you and threw them on the floor. They were lost in the pile of clothing that had gathered on the floor. Coriolanus had shed some of his clothing as well. His ripped body was adorned in nothing but his white underwear.

Coriolanus spread your legs apart, “Look at how wet my girl is.” He traced a finger down the cotton of your underwear and slowly slid it up your legs. He wanted to drag this on as much as possible. You let out a grumble of frustration, getting tired of his constant teasing. Coriolanus gave in and got rid of your underwear.

The same finger that was used to skim the fabric of your underwear was now being used to gather your slick and spread it across your sensitive pussy. You took a deep breath of air into your lungs. The feeling was new, but not unwelcomed. Coriolanus flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your clit was pulsing with need. You needed Coriolanus to drop the act and eat you out like he was a starving man.

“Coriol-” Your word was cut off by a moan as his mouth did exactly what you wanted it to do. Coriolanus delved into your pussy, tracing shapes onto your clit with his tongue. Your back arched off of the bed again. Coriolanus’s fingers teased your hole, trying to find the perfect time to ease into your channel.

Coriolanus’s fingers weren’t thick, but they were long making it easier for him to tease your G-spot. He fucked his fingers in and out of you as he sucked your clit. You had to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. Your lips were sure to be chewed raw after this, but they would serve as a reminder that you had a man who was willing to do this for you. Many high-society women told stories about their husbands not pleasuring them when they had sex. It sounded like a horrible life to lead, but they were rich and beautiful so they needed to sacrifice something.

Coriolanus curled his fingers up, letting them knock against your G-spot. He continued to kiss and lick at your clit. You were close. By the way you were clenching down on his fingers, he could tell that the waterworks were coming. Your naked chest rose and fell as you played with your nipples, increasing the pleasure that you felt. Your head fell even deeper into the pillow as a chill ran down your body. That chill eventually led to where Coriolanus was currently still working. He ate your pussy like a starved man, just the way you liked it.

Without warning, your juices painted Coriolanus’s face. He wasn’t surprised that you came so fast. The last time you had sex was two months ago. You were burning for him and he was burning for you.

Coriolanus wiped his face with the back of his hand and laughed. That was the first time he had actually made you squirt. It had always been a personal goal of his after Tirgis explained to Coriolanus how a woman's body works. At first, he was traumatized. He didn’t want to have the sex talk with his dear cousin, but when he laid eyes on you for the time, he wanted to do everything Tigris said and more.

His cock was hard. You could see the outline of it through his white underwear. You would tease him about his tighty whities later. Right now, you were laser-focused on the fact that Coriolanus hooked his thumbs under his waistband and lowered them, exposing his cock to the cold air. His hard cock slapped against his lower stomach. He jerked his cock off, spreading his precum all over his length. He wanted to make sure that it went in as smoothly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

He lined himself up at your core. He slid his tip up and down your pussy, gathering your slick with his dick before he pushed into you. Your insides welcomed him with little to no problem. The stretch felt good. You were all slicked up and ready for him.

Contraceptives weren’t a problem for you. Coriolanus was always careful and made sure to come somewhere that wasn’t your vagina. You didn’t want to have a kid just yet. First, you wanted to study at the University and travel back to District Two if you were given the chance. Then you wanted to get married. Pereferabbly to Coriolanus, but you didn’t know if that was possible yet. With his fate still undecided, your plans to marry the love of your life dwindled. Besides, even if you were to get pregnant your father would have enough money to get you an abortion

Coriolanus’s head fell forward as he buried his cock in your tight pussy. Two months and he had forgotten how good you felt. Your insides fluttered around him as he bottomed out.

Coriolanus began to thrust his cock in and out of you. He was methodical with everything he did. Coriolanus set a rhythm as he fucked into you. He fucked you hard and fast. The side of his bed slapped against the wall and his mattress cracked and groaned as he fucked into you. You prayed to the heavens that Grandma’am and Tigris were in a deep sleep. Or that the walls of the Snow residence were thicker than Coriolanus’s cock.

Coriolanus peppered your mouth with kisses in order to muffle your moans. He kept his pace as he did this. Your breasts jiggled as he fucked into you. Your hands found their way down to your extra-sensitive clit. You circled it with your fingers and moaned in pleasure at the feeling.

His balls slapped against your ass as his strokes became more deep and labored. He was going to come soon. He needed to come soon. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Two months with no sex had gotten to him. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as your pussy clenched around him. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure.

“Inside me,” you said. You were close too, the feeling of your finger frantically rubbing your clit and the feeling of Coriolanus's cock buried deep inside of you spurred your orgasm to come out from the woodwork.

You have come a second time, your pussy fluttering and squeezing Coriolanus cock that was still inside of you. A string of curses fell from Coriolanus’s lips as he came inside of you. His pulsing and throbbing cock pushed his come deep inside of you as he continued to fuck you as he came. His thrusts were slow but intentional. He would have lasted a few more seconds, but with the way that your pussy squeezed his sensitive cock, he came instantly.

Coriolanus slowly eased his cock out of you. The both of you were breathing heavily as Coriolanus went to grab a towel from his closet. He eased your legs open one more time as he cleaned you up. He was slow and gentle with it. He knew that you were still sensitive after two orgasms.

His come eased out of you and onto the towel. The sight almost caused him to get hard, but he didn’t feel like tiring you out even more.

Once he was done cleaning you up, he tucked you into his chest and covered the two of you with the blankets on his bed. He kissed your forehead and your cheek. Coriolanus’s love language was kissing. He loved kissing you. He loved doing anything with you, but kissing was his favorite.

Your eyes closed, but you weren’t falling asleep. Not yet. Sex might have been a clever distraction, but now that you were coming off your high you needed to know what will happen to the future of your relationship.

“Coryo, what is going to happen to you? I know that you know what your punishment is. I'm not stupid.”

Coriolanus sighed as he tried to keep his voice from waving. He rarely cried, but in moments like these, he did. Just you and him shielded away from the rest of the Capital were his favorite. “Twenty years as a peacekeeper.”

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to cry. Your body ran cold as you repeated those words in your mind. Twenty years as a peacekeeper. Twenty years without your Coriolanus. Your Coryo.

“My dad can-”

“No,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want your dad to get me out of this one. I need to learn how to do things on my own.”

“What if I had a crazy elaborate plan to get you out of it?”

“Nothing could be crazier than this.” Coriolanus got this crazy idea. It has been sitting in the back of his mind ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend. “Marry me?”

This isn’t how he wanted to propose to you. He had already gotten your father's approval months ago. You were perfect for him and you deserve a perfect proposal. He wanted to take you to a fancy restaurant, get down on one knee, and ask you that way. Traditional and expected of Capital people, but things never go as planned when you’re a Snow.

“Seriously?” You were in disbelief. Of course, you wanted to marry him, but this all seemed a bit rushed. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you, but Coryo. You’re about to leave.” Then, your brilliant mind comes up with the perfect plan.

You’ll marry Coriolanus, making him one of the heirs to the Plinth fortune. Thus making him more valuable to the Capital. This way you get to marry the love of your life and keep him within arms reach. Were you being possessive? Maybe, but it was better than the dean having to deal with an angry Plinth.

And your plan worked. You and Coriolanus got married a week after he proposed to you. It was a bit rushed, but the two of you were ready. He was going to be a loving husband, and you, a loving wife. Coriolanus’s punishment would be reduced to two months of training in District Two. He would then return to the Capital as a peacekeeper. He would keep the peace during the day and return to you at night.

Turns out Snow does land on top.

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Time to study up on straight people sex!

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games

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oceansblvds · 5 months

Text

closer ; coriolanus snow

pairing ; coriolanus snow x reader

words ; 3.4k

about ; you and coriolanus have never exactly gotten along, and all of that boils over at a party you're hosting. based off of this request.

warning(s) ; smut, fingering, p in v sex, not edited, mentions of choking someone out (lol)

authors note ; please feel free to request fics or headcanons or blurbs! i hope u enjoy :) kinda got carried away with this one.

Coriolanus was, for lack of a better word, obsessive.

He was obsessive in the things that he did, the people he saw, the way he dressed, he was obsessive to the point that anyone who had even a glance as to what he was thinking would think that he was insane. It was no way to live, but the spiny, tingly feeling that rose up his spine when he felt the obsession for yet another thing growing was enough to keep him tethered in his ways. He’s a reserved, meticulous man who never let himself be seen as anything other than such, no one had ever seen him make one mistake, not since he was a young child. He was erratic, cold and calculated all at the same time. He didn’t like when things didn’t go his way, and he certainly didn’t like when he felt that someone was trying to best him.

And that’s what you seemed to do, try to best him. All the time, you would walk into a room and all eyes would turn to you instead of him. You always had a way with your words, speaking to the hearts of people and reminding them that you were the Academy’s darling. It made him sick to his stomach, the knot twisting into a more convoluted mess within his gut until he wanted to throw up what little he had to eat that day. He had never felt this way about someone before, whatever it was, and he didn’t like it, not one bit. With you, he felt as if he had no control. With you, people didn’t fall under his spell.

The party bustled all around, the lavish hall that it was situated in being filled with the noises of mentors and peers alike, all in celebration for the next Hunger Games. It was at your house, which pained Coriolanus, but made sense. You were always looking to help out, and it seemed to be the perfect opportunity for the Dean to ask if you and your family would host this gathering. You considered it done the moment it was asked of you, all you had to do was ask your parents for the money and for the time and you organized the whole thing. It was going perfectly. Many people came up to you, chiding about how wonderful the party was, how they hoped that they would get some of the appetizing leftovers from the snack table. You gave smiles, your laughter filling up the space that Coriolanus could hear, wanting nothing more than to smack you silly, to prove that you were not better than him.

It was stupid, really, considering you had done nothing to prove that you were trying to humiliate him. It was all twisted in his mind. And he was determined to make things right, whatever that meant.

He made his way to you, dressed in a pressed white dress shirt and black slacks, accenting his long legs, his usually curled hair pressed back only a bit in a styled fashion. He was handsome, there was no denying it. Your eyes met his blue ones, almost being enveloped in the sea of them as he made his way further.

“Well then, if it isn’t the Academy’s darling,” Coriolanus said, his tone nothing but authoritative, as if he was trying to make you feel uncomfortable. You were used to his slight jabs, the way that he always seemed to want to push your buttons. You paid it no mind, not letting him have the satisfaction. “How much of daddy’s money did you have to spend to pull this off?”

You rolled your eyes, pearled white teeth biting your tongue as you chose your words carefully. “Coriolanus, do tell me, is it your mission in life to be a thorn in my side?” A playful jab, something that you could easily spin out as being a tease if the wrong person was to hear. After all, you wouldn’t want your reputation to tank over one encounter. That was the thing about the Academy, always somewhere there was someone watching, listening. You were never alone.

Thorns. They reminded him of his Grandma’am’s roses, how the things would get caught in your skin if you weren’t careful enough. There had been many times where he had cut himself on the barbs, the tip digging into the thin layer of his hand and drawing blood when he had gone to cut one for his outfit. He thought to himself how he wanted to be a thorn in your side, how he wanted to poke and prod at you until he drew blood, to see your perfect image falter under his touch. He chuckled at your words, the crease lines of his smile oh so evident as you looked at his stupid, perfect face. He leaned in, the smell of roses enveloping the two of you, his face almost disastrously close to your own.

“Do you want me to be?”

You scoffed. “Being crass now?”

Of course, of course you dealt your hand in the same way that you always did. He would put himself out there, trying to get a rouse out of you, and you wouldn’t bite at the bait. You would simply leave him there, to play with himself, and it was so infuriating. For once, just once, he wished that he would see that perfectness in your stature falter. He wanted to see you ruined, whether or not he was the person to do it. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that he had to be the one to ruin you. You were his, whether you knew it or not.

You walked away from him, spinning on your perfect heels and making your way to a door, opening it and closing. It was the bathroom, one of many in your house but the one that was most accessible to the party. You needed a moment alone, to freshen up, to get Coriolanus out of your mind. This was your party, he wasn’t just going to ruin it like this by using all of his stupid words. Your hand went to your forehead, pushing some of the strands that had fallen from your perfectly styled hair back to their place, leaning in and scanning your face in the mirror for any other mistakes on your clear skin. Just as you were about to turn and make your way out, you watched as the door opened and closed just as quickly, Coriolanus standing there with his back to the door. You heard the familiar click of the lock, and the way that he looked at you made you shiver. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked him, moving to grab the handle but was quickly swatted away by his hand. You looked up at him, the height difference palpable, despite the heels you had on. He was so much bigger than you, he could easily overpower any move that you tried to make. “Let me through, Snow, this isn’t funny.”

“No.”

Your eyes squinted. “No?”

“You know, for someone who spends hours in front of the mirror, you’re not fooling anyone,” Coriolanus said. He took a step forward, which didn’t really make such a difference in the long run. This was a big bathroom, if you really wanted you could've had a party in here with a sizable guest list. Still, you took a step backwards, wanting to keep the distance between the two of you.

“What’s your problem, Coriolanus?”

“You’re my problem,” He breathed out. “Always pretending to be so damn perfect.”

You laughed. “Well, not everyone can embrace mediocrity as effortlessly as you do.” A low blow, something you knew would get under his skin and rile him up. And it seemed to do just that, because you could see his jaw clench, perfect facade that he had seemed to falter. You had caught him off guard, he hadn’t expected you to bite back with such a fiery attitude. But maybe you had just had enough of all his button pushing, of all his mindless teasing and hating on you for what seemed like no reason. You wanted to make him uncomfortable, make him know how much you loathed him. So you continued, “Jealous much? Can’t handle the fact that I outshine you without even trying?”

Coriolanus was walking towards you before you even had a chance to move out of the way, his large body caging you in between himself and the marble counter. His hand went to your jaw, the contact of his fingertip on your skin making you heat up, a small fire burning in your chest. His grip was so hard that you were sure that it would leave a bruise. Your eyes widened, pupils blown out from the contact. You hadn’t expected for him to do this, you hated how much you liked it. How you wondered if he was this rough when he was doing other things.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly liking the way that your doe eyes widened and looked at him, like you were a deer caught in the headlights. But his mouth opened, “You don’t know anything about me.”

Which was, for the record, very true. You didn’t know anything about Coriolanus Snow because he seemed so keen on keeping things a secret. You didn’t know about his home life, the only thing you knew about him was what he was showing to you now, that he had a dark side that was starting to leak out of the cracks of his perfected persona. You gave a smile, a vile, venomous one that was meant to catch him off guard. “Yeah? So tell me, Coriolanus Snow, what don’t I know? Please, enlighten me.”

He wished that you would just shut the fuck up. He wanted to put his hand around your throat and choke you until you lost consciousness, so that he could feel like he would be rid of all the sickening thoughts about you for just one moment. He thought about leaving right now, leaving while he still had some dignity left. But Coriolanus was not one to back down from a challenge, and he certainly wasn’t one to lose the upper hand. He was in control, he had to keep his control. There was no way in hell that he would let you think differently.

The way he kissed you was bruising, like he was trying to make a mark on you forever. His teeth grazed against your lips, biting and nipping enough to almost draw blood. Coriolanus was all consuming, His one hand staying on your jaw while the other one came to wrap around your throat, disregarding his earlier thoughts and instead only squeezing a little bit, pulling you closer to him. His hips pushed into your own, you could feel his bulge through his trousers, a smirk fell on your face before he was quick to wipe it off by pushing you so much into the counter that you jumped on top of it, opening your legs and allowing him to slot in between them.

Your hands came and wrapped in his hair, pulling on the locks of goldenness that you had only fantasized before in your dreams. They were soft, just like you imagined, and the way that you pulled on them had him groaning into your mouth, his lips leaving yours to kiss harshly against your jawline, down your neck, and onto the part of your collarbone that was exposed from your dress shirt. Teeth pressing against the soft skin that connected your jaw to your neck. You sighed out, hands moving down to his torso and surrendering into his touch as if saying do anything to me, anything you’d like.

And he did, because the second he heard that sigh come from your pretty pink lips he was determined to explore every part that he could of your body. He paid extra attention to your neck, sucking just under your chin, earning a soft moan on your part at the feeling. Your hips pressed against his and each of you breathed out, liking that feeling more than anything in the world. You hated how pliant you were in his hands, something you never thought would happen in a million years with Coriolanus Snow. And yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, instead pulling his head closer to your body and allowing for one of his hands to slip under your dress shirt, palm pressing against your left breast. He liked you like this, so perfectly obedient and compliant. He was going to enjoy ruining you.

His hands pushed your pants down along with your panties, leaving you completely bare in front of him. You felt insecure, instinctually closing your legs away from him. He tutted, shaking his head and taking both of his hands to spread your legs open in front of him. He stood there looking at the curve of your hips and the apex of your thighs, eyes landing on your wet center. you looked down at him while he did nothing, only staring at you. You were completely vulnerable, insides screaming for him to just touch you. He seemed to want to take his time, from the way that his hand came and rested on the inside of your thigh while his eyes looked at your face gauging for a reaction.

“What do you want, an instruction book?” You asked him, the brattiness and defiance in your tone that should’ve made him angry instead made him chuckle. His hand continued to reach further until his thumb pressed against your clit, making you groan at the feeling, your legs wrapping around his clothed waist. He was still completely clothed while you were completely pantsless. The bastard. He slid a singular finger into you, knowing that it would be enough to satisfy you for now, but it wasn’t enough.

“Coriola-”

A knock on the door made you both stop what you were doing. A voice was heard on the other end, it was your friend, wondering if you were okay since you had been in there for a while. “Y-yes! It’s fine,” You lied. “I’m just not feeling very well, I’ll be out soon!” You heard footsteps receding, and you turned your attention back to Coriolanus, who was looking down at you with a smirk. His finger was still buried in you, your pussy squeezing around his finger, wishing that he would move it. He seemed to understand what you wanted, his finger beginning to pump in and out, his thumb still pressed against your clit. The feeling was searing, something you weren’t even sure could just be described by words.

His finger curled up in a come here motion and you almost screamed, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he had such an effect over you. He could see through your bullshit quite clearly, pushing another two fingers into you and not moving. Coriolanus had three fingers in you that he wasn’t moving, watching you squirm against his hand to create some kind of pleasure. but with his other hand he held your hips down, keeping you from moving at all.

“I want to hear you beg for it.”

“For fucks sake, Coriolanus,” you said, eyes opening to look at him.

His chest pressed against your own as he leaned in, “Beg. or I’ll leave you to finger fuck yourself.”

For a moment you thought that you weren’t going to do it, mostly because of your pride and ego. the pleasure that awaited you took over though and you opened your mouth to say, “please, Coriolanus. Fuck me with your fingers. Stretch me out. I need you.” your cheeks burned in embarrassment at your words, knowing that he would never let you live that down.

“Good girl.”

He spared not a moment more, fingers setting at an unbelievably fast pace as they pumped in and out of you. His thumb massaged figure eights on your clit and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. Your head arched back, feeling him hit your g spot every single time his fingers fucked into you. Soon enough you were cumming, opening your eyes and seeing blurry vision. He kept pumping his fingers, mouth finding home on your neck to give you more marks, perfect petals like a perfect rose. You didn’t know how you were going to be able to hide all of them.

You took a minute to catch your breath and for that moment he wasn’t touching you at all made you miss his touch more than you were willing to admit. You heard the sound of pants unzipping and soon enough Coriolanus was in between your legs, this time his cock in his hands as he pumped lazily. He was big, you thought to yourself. Of course he was, considering all he had done with you so far, he was just preparing for you to be almost speared open by his cock. Incoherent words spilled from your lips, all different forms of begging for him to just push it in, and he finally gave you the satisfaction, the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance. Coriolanus pushed all the way in, inch by agonizingly slow inch, his own eyes falling shut at the feeling of your warmth around him.

Once he bottomed out, he pulled out, pushing back in. You hissed at the feeling, not all the way used to the feeling of him stretching you out but loving it anyways. He buried himself into you like he owned you and you loved it. His hands came to your hips and thrusted in and out with such force that your whole body moved with every single rut into you. He shed no mercy, hitting that one spot every single time mercilessly.

Your hands fumbled to touch him, anywhere you possibly could. Eventually you made your way to his back, fingernails digging into his skin enough to probably draw blood from underneath the white button up that he was wearing. You scratched up and down, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your breasts bounced up and down with every thrust from underneath your shirt, your mouth opened slack. The heat in the room was almost unbearable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He grabbed your thigh and hoisted it up, moaning at the new angle that he hit within you. Your eyes teared up with the pleasure that coursed through you, once again about to hit that brink once again. You were already pretty sensitive from the previous orgasm. His name sounded so pornographic coming from you that he tried his best to remember how it sounded. It was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. You looked so fucking good taking him like this. He felt as if he had everything he ever wanted in the palm of his hands. And he was making you feel good, better than anyone ever had before.

This drove his pride, thrusting animal like into you to take you to that peak again. He wanted to make you cum again. And you did, after about three thrusts from him, each one pulling out all the way and pushing in with force. his hand slipped down to rub your clit in figure eights and you came with a yell of his name into his shoulder, biting down on the fabric to try and muffle some of it so that passersby wouldn’t hear what was going on inside the bathroom. Not even two thrusts after, he was cumming, a low groan eliciting from his lips while his body stalled slightly on top of you. Each of your skins were drenched with sweat that you two almost stuck to each other. He pulled your face to meet his own and gave you a quick peck, and continued this all the way down your neck then stopping to bury his face into the crook of your neck, composing himself.

He didn’t pull out, not right away, thinking that he had gotten all that he wanted.

And there was no way that he could let you go now.

taglist ;

@obaewankenobis ; @slyhersophia ; @narcissistic-siren ; lmk if you want to be added.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the hunger games #tom blyth

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k2ntoss · 4 months

Text

USING LIPSTICK

a/n ⭒ i saw this and i had to write it down, okay??? this first one with jason todd bc i can't help it, later i'll do one with dean (i'm insane, i know)

tw ⭒ minors dni, SMUT, jason todd x f!reader, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), degradation, size kink, spitting, slapping, hair pulling, breeding kink, unprotected sex, p in v, mention of jason's scars, etc.

word count ⭒2.774 (this was supposed to be short 😭)

jason is almost begging for you to go as his date to another wayne gala since the week started, you like them but not enough to attend so often as he has to go; wearing nice dresses and pretty makeup, the jewerly you have to pick and everything that comes with putting effort in looking good to spend time on a fancy party.

it's early, you've been all evening getting ready and now the burgundy dress sits pretty on your body, fixing it so the slit on your right leg is straight, your hair is done too all tied up in a pretty half up hair style and you're just missing the final touch for your makeup when jason comes into your room "you look fucking amazing, love" you turn around to find his eyes running along your curves, taking in every detail as he walks up to you "is it okay? it's not too much?" you ask while turning around again to give yourself a look on the mirror, smiling softly when jason gets behind you, hands on your waist while he towers over you.

"mhm, it's just perfect" his voice is low, eyes fixed on your reflex while you start doing a small winged eyeliner, the cap of your liner between your lips is making him think a bit too much until he lets out a soft grunt "do you think i should wear lipstick?" you ask him, the question triggers something inside of him when he looks at your lips, slightly parted as you pick up a lipstick from your drawer "or maybe lipgloss, what do you think, jay?" and jason thinks, he does have an answer but he tries to remain calm "lipstick can be smudged, doesn't it?" he asks, there's a light hint of tease on his voice and it makes you reply with a soft hum.

"then lipgloss, but which one" you wonder as you look at the things scatered over the drawer while jason looks at you, a small smirk on his lips before he leans in to press a playful kiss on your neck "i think i know which one" his hands wander on your waist, lifting your dress a little bit before letting the fabric fall just for his hands to run to your back, pulling down the zipper until your dress falls, pooling at your feet "jay..." you warn with a soft chuckle when he growls, looking at your body on the mirror.

"no bra, is it because of the dress or for me to touch you?" he asks in a sultry tone, finger gently tracing the outline of your figure until his big hands are cupping your tits "mhm, mostly because of the dress" you answer in a soft sigh, eyes closed at his touch on your body until he pulls away, taking your hips to make you stand a little closer to your drawer, jason kneels down and picks up the dress and leaves a playful kiss on one of your thighs "sure thing, doll". you see jason on the mirror, he walks until he leaves your clothes carefully placed on bed before he walks behind you; he looks amazing too, dressed on a black suit and a white button up shirt, a bow tie undone on the neck of his shirt is waiting to complete his fit but he's now pressing his hips against yours, half-hard cock grinding on your ass while jason's hands play with your lace panties, pretty red fabric being pulled softly as he bends you slightly against the drawer "i think you look fucking better like this, makes me want to use you until you can't keep your legs on the floor" his eyes are almost predatory now, fixed on your reflex as you wiggle your hips playfully.

"are we gonna arrive late again?" you ask him with a small pout, you know damn well you won't be on time but that's usual for you two because jason is always eager to fuck you before leaving to a gala. a soft scoff escapes his throat before he starts taking off his suit, followed by the sight of him undoing his shirt and then his pants; it has always been a dream to see your boyfriend naked in front of you, broad shoulders and chest, built body and that slim waist that made your mouth water, skin painted with scars but the most calling was that big Y shaped scar on his chest, you always loved to trace it with your fingers or to leave a trail of kisses before you sucked him off "like your views, princess?" jason's words are teasing, he knows the answer but he enjoys seeing you bite your lip and nod as your eyes roam over his body. one hand trails from your waist to your tummy, fingers drawing soft circles on your skin as he kisses your neck, nibbling on it softly and making you tilt your head to give him more room until his hand slides under your panties and his fingers start to caress your cunt, a small smirk when he feels your body reacting to his touch "you're so tempting, baby, that dress makes you look like you're begging to get dicked down... i wish i could just rip it and make you scream like a whore" his thumb is pressing on your clit as two more fingers slide up and down between your lips making you moan softly.

your hands are pressed against the wooden furniture, lips parted as a few sighs escape your mouth to his touch on your body driving you crazy, making you rock your hips on his hand "jason..." you call his name softly but it only earns you a quick glance and a raised eyebrow, you know what the man wants and it makes you shiver "sorry... sir, please" you ask softly and that makes jason's grin go wide "pretty little girl, want me to stuff my fingers on that greedy pussy? i bet you'd love to have my dick deep inside of you but you'll settle for my fingers, don't ya, bunny?" his voice is low and raspy, two digits teasing at your entrance and pushing ever so lightly before he slides them in, a laugh rumbling on his chest when he feels how wet he got you just with a few touches and a bunch of dirty things whispered into your ear but it's always like that because you can't help how much he turns you on, he knows what to do to get you on the mood and it takes jason just minutes until your legs are shaking a little, breath heavy while his fingers twist and move inside of you making a couple of noises that bring a bright blush to your face.

"look at you, baby, how small and vulnerable you look like this... with my fingers playing with you" jason's voice is almost a low growl as he squeezes your cheeks with his other hand making you look at youself all worked up in front of him, you do look smaller and then you're just wishing jason would pick you up to fuck you like a toy "uh, looks like someone is already thinking about what she wants me to do with her... this little pussy is clenching around my fingers" he taunts before pulling his digits out of you, a soft whine leaving your lips before he delivers a sharp slap on your cunt making you gasp and tremble. he laughs, pulling your panties down before he stands up again, his hand resuming on your pussy as he rubs your puffy lips, the wet sound making you want to look away "sir... i need you, please" you ask, obediently because you know that being a brat right now would only earn you being left all needy "need me, princess? you're being so good, aren't you?" jason asks and smirks when you nod enthusiastically, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your neck he pulls away to pull down his boxers and you can see him fisting at his hard rock dick, the sight making your mouth water and your pussy clench around nothing.

he stands right behind you, his hand guiding his tip to your entrance to start teasing you when he lets his dick slide between your folds grinding his hardness against you, it makes you moan but it's still not enough "i need you inside of me, please... sir, i need you to make me take your cock" a small pout decorates your lips as you look at him with pleading doe eyes, biting on your lip hard when he takes a handful of your hair, pulling it at the same time he thrusts in with a rough movement making you squirm and moan loudly " 's that what you wanted, baby? my dick inside of you?" jason asks into your ear as he starts moving his hips, free hand going to squeeze one of your tits, fingers pinching on your nipple while he strokes slowly and torturing for you to grow desperate "y-yes, sir, yes" you nod, your head falling back as he keeps hold of your hair messing it up, making your back arch in a weird angle that will probably let you sore the next few days but you can't help moan with a satisfied smile once he starts to move faster, his hand still kneading on your breast "fucking thight... your body is so perfect for me, doll, even your tits fit perfectly on my hands" jason tone is filled with pride and ownership, that only makes you mewl because you know your body is almost like made for him to fit on you in every possible way "you love how i talk to you, what a pretty dirty slut you are" he grunts in a harder thrust that makes you whine loudly, jason's hand leaving your chest to roam back between your legs to circle roughly on your clit for a few seconds before giving a hard slap against your swollen bud, it makes you clench like a vice dragging a gutural growl from your boyfriend's throat.

"you little freak! you enjoy when i slap that pussy, don't ya?" he mocks you, his cheek pressed against yours as he keeps pounding harder and faster almost as if he will never be able to fuck you again and oh, how it makes you even more needy "you're a sick whore, baby, bet you'll be squirting so hard if i slapped that pretty face of yours while i fuck your brains out" he has a filthy mouth but it only turns you on more and more, making you whimper in a silent plea for him to slap your cheek, desperate to see his hand print red on your face but instead he gives another sharp smack between your legs earning a tortured whine from you "jay! f-fuck... need you to slap my face, please" but he grunts, hand tugging your hair again as his gaze grows stern "how did you just called me, mhm? that's not how you should adress me when i'm giving you what you want or are you already too dumb fucked to think?" his voice is serious and it makes you shake your head "no, sir! sorry uh, i'm sorry" you pout, voice soft suddenly but it's probably a little late "your brain must be turned into a puddle already, how pathetic... just a needy whore, a sick brat" and jason gives hard and deep thrusts with each word, voice low and dominant.

"open your mouth. now" he demands as he pulls your hair again at the same time he smacks your pussy one more time, hand lingering over your sensitive bud as you do as he asked. mouth open and tongue sticking out while jason towers over you, he looks so intimidating it makes your inner walls thighten around his dick, a dry scoff escapes him before he spits into your mouth "swallow it, maybe that dirty mouth of yours deserves that if you want to speak like a slut" he grunts, eyes fixed on yours and a glint of lust when you swallow what he just gave you, letting out a loud moan when he presses a bruising kiss to your lips, biting and sucking on them.

jason brings his hand to your face, calloused fingers squeezing your cheeks again to make you open your mouth again for him to spit into it "that's better... obedient little whore" you moan, fingers scratching on the wood where your hands are still pressed, the mirror allowing you to watch your tense body from your hips to your head and jason behind you, his hips hammering against you while he keeps your head thrown back, crown almost pressed to his chest "can't even talk back, just a fuck toy for me to use and abuse" the words are messing with your foggy mind, making you tremble as you nod absentmindedly muttering jason's name like a mantra, his hand squeezing your face making your words sound muffled and sloppy but you stop when he spits over your sealed lips, leaving them shiny and looking just as filthy as the rest of your body when it was being used in this way; right then is when jason lets go of your hair, his hand moving your face to look at yourself on the mirror "your pretty lips look so good like that, mhm, better than any of those stupid lipglosses" he grins devilishly at your reflex and you can feel your body about to burst to his implication, your climax almost over you and he notices it in the way your inner walls convulse around his dick.

"it turns you on, huh? fucked up little slut, you're about to cum all over my cock for being treated like a stupid whore" he growls in a whisper behind your ear "go on, baby, cum for me" he urges with deep strokes that make him grunt at how thight your pussy clenches around him right before you scream his name when your climax washes all over you, body gripping on jason as a vice "that's a fucking good girl, huh, want me to fill up your needy cunt?" and you nod, breath heavy and struggled. his arm goes around your waist, keeping you on your feet when your legs are about to give up and his other hand goes back to play with your clit.

his thrusts grow sloppy, hips stuttering as he comes closer to his high "mhm, you love it when i breed you, right? gonna put a baby on you one of this days, gonna make you a mama" jason says in a sedative tone as he leans in to talk into your ear, it makes you cry from pleasure and need, his hand on your sensitive clit is making you squirm "god... yes please, sir, i wanna have your baby" a soft whimper escapes your lips turning into a full loud moan when he reaches his climax, his cock bursting inside of you as he paints your walls white with thick load of his seed, a grunt leaving his throat before he presses a long kiss on your shoulder.

"you're so fucking good for me, princess" he mutters with a smirk on his lips, jason's arm is still wrapped around your waist as he holds you on your tiptoes while you're both looking at your reflex "see? your lips look prettier like that... swollen and red from my kisses and shiny too" he teases before kissing your chin making you giggle softly "you're sick too, jay" you say with a bright blush on your cheeks before he lets you down and looks at the hour "we should get ready again now if we want to make it to the gala, baby"

you still have to get on your dress again after cleaning yourself, do part of your makeup again and brush your hair because "it looks better all loose, babe" is what jason says when he's ready and finds you struggling to get your half-up nice again. at least you know that your lips will remain red and swollen for a good part of the night and the gloss, that's something jason will have to fix every now and then when nobody around is looking at you both.

#mara's thoughts #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #reader insert #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood smut

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intricatedemonicrituals · 8 months

Text

Canon Destiel Timeline Masterpost

I wrote this all in a fugue state while listening to Green Grow the Lilacs on repeat so forgive any mistakes. @gay-fae ask and ye shall receive

So much has happened in the long and storied history of his fandom so I've decided to try to document it. I've started by looking up every time that canon destiel, destiel event, misha collins, jackles, or some other search terms have spiked on Google and cross referenced them with tumblr or twitter posts from that day. I know a lot of this is Misha stuff, but he does tend to be the one to say things

November 5th, 2020: Season 15, Episode 18 "Despair" airs and Castiel declares his love to Dean. The presidential election, Georgia turning blue, the presumed retirement of Vladamir Putin, Dabi from My Hero Academia, Ouran Host Club season 2, Sherlock season 5, the president of Bolivia being attacked with dynamite, ongoing BLM protests, a twitter artist making racist art of Ted Bundy, Hetalia returning, a dead man being elected Representative for North Dakota, V for Vendetta, scientists discovering a "hell" planet that rains rocks and has lava oceans, and half of Europe being in lockdown all became tumblr news around the same time. Some of these are true, some not.

November 8th, 2020: Misha Collins, in a panel with Richard Speight, states that the confession scene was a "declaration of homosexual love", and that when Castiel goes to the Empty, it is an example of the "Kill your gays" trope.

November 19th, 2020: The finale airs and it is not well loved to say the least. The episode is short, Dean dies by falling on a nail to death fighting vampire clowns, and there are several characters left with dangling unresolved plot threads and arcs, including Castiel. The car is in heaven though. There is very little heard from the cast and crew, if anything.

November 22nd, 2020: Misha Collins, in a livestream, tells a fan that Castiel and Jack are remaking heaven together, Cas has his wings back, and they are rainbow-colored. He had, however, mentioned the rainbow wings before.

November 24th, 2020: The Spanish dub of the confession is released and a "rogue" translator has written "Y yo a ti" or "I love you too" as Dean's response. Destiel goes canon in Spanish. Tumblr stops working as a result.

November 25th, 2020: tumblr user @thebloggerbloggerfun claims Jensen Ackles said "I had a member of the film crew record the confession scene on my phone for me" #unsourced #releasethetapes

November 26th, 2020: Misha doesn't appreciate the rogue translator, but walks that opinion back later the same day

November 27th, 2020: A "leaked" Italian dub of the confession scene shows a mutual confession.

November 28th, 2020: President Obama follows a destiel account on Twitter

November 30th, 2020: The supposed "Italian dub" is revealed as a fake created by user @iotiamo using sound clips from other parts of the Italian dub on show.

December 1st, 2020: Twitter user @mothdean says "misha I know you have a stan acc and spy on us so can we have a hazel update please"

December 3rd, 2020: Misha tweets about Hazel snoring and this is taken as possible confirmation of Misha's secret stan account

December 11th, 2020: A script from Cas's perspective leaks. It says "We see Cass's POV of Dean again - his face drawn, drained of hope. But still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester."

December 16th, 2020: Newsweek runs an article about an article that Misha wrote about the Lewinsky affair while interning in the Clinton White House in which Misha comes off as rather thirsty for Bill

December 20th, 2020: All Supernatural related materials disappear off the CW's website due to a copyright dispute with Warner Brothers

December 31st, 2020: Mishapocalypse redux

February 9th, 2021: Spn cast members Chad Lindberg and Samantha Ferris tweet about a party at the Roadhouse and it grows to become a full Destiel wedding

February 16th, 2021: @steveyockey made a fairly benign post about Jensen Ackles. The notes went wild in a variety of ways and started a rumor that Spn writer Steve Yockey was dead

February 20th, 2021: Steve Yockey is not dead and he should say it

March 3rd, 2021: The German dub drops and it is also romantic in tone

March 6-8th, 2021: A virtual con happens where Jensen discusses Chaos Machine and Jared says he wants to be in their next project. They also show that WAP video. Jensen is giving full mountain man preparing to play Soldier Boy.

March 10th, 2021: The French dub is released. Cas says, "I love you, Dean" and Dean now responds, "Don't do this to me, Castiel"

March 13th, 2021: The company Amazon tweets about Castiel and Misha Collins asks if they ship Deancas or Wincest. Subsequently apologizes.

March 16th, 2021: Misha says he can't speak as Castiel because Warner Brothers" specifically forbade it. #cwsniperconfirmed

March 17th, 2021: Sam and Eileen are getting married! I have no idea how this came about but I'm happy for them

March 23rd, 2021: Chad Lindberg and Samantha Ferris claim on Twitter that the Roadhouse party was about Valentine's day and not a wedding. Ferris specifically said that she worked on the show and that people tried to make Dean/Cas into "something that it wasn't", She also stated she doesn't "know what queerbaiting is" and that it was due to an "agenda". This led to #deanisbi trending on Twitter and Tumblr.

March 31st, 2021: Some possibly fake leaked scripts come up for sale on eBay. Also, Jensen is Batman.

April 1st, 2021: Mishapocalypse redux

April 6th, 2021: Leaked scripts from the 2 final episodes pop up and have several mentions of Cas in them that were omitted. Dean even thinks about Cas's confession when confronting Chuck.

April 18th, 2021: Scripts from seasons 12 and 13 leak. These include scenes from after Cas's death

May 17th, 2021: Jensen's band Radio Company releases an album including the song Watching Over Me

June ~5th, 2021: Misha says at a convention that Watching Over Me is about Castiel. Jensen neither confirms nor denies this when asked about it

June 11th, 2021: It is announced that Misha is publishing a book of poetry

June 18th, 2021: The Russian dub airs and Dean's line is changed to "Don't you dare, Cas"

June 24-28th, 2021: Jensen and Daneel Ackles reveal that they are making a Supernatural prequel series following John and Mary Winchester (a story that NOBODY was asking for). Jensen will reprise his role as Dean and will narrate. Misha hints that he would like to be involved, as do Ruthie Connell, Samantha Ferris, Matt Cohen, and Julie McNiven (the perils of having a cast of mostly immortal characters). But Jared Padalecki first says that he is happy for the Ackles's, he later said he was "gutted", then responded to Robbie Thompson's tweet calling him a "coward" and saying "what an awful thing you've done". The next day, Jensen and Jared both do damage control and say they'll always be brothers

July 17th, 2021: People are asking if Destiel will be canon in Space Jam, Misha's poetry book's cover is revealed to lukewarm reviews and people are talking about a particular poem about piss, and Perfume Genius releases an article that is a self-insert vore fanfiction about having sex with Jensen Ackles

August 2nd, 2021: Perfume Genius is at it again with "Last Friday, I had my eyes removed by Jared Padalecki". No, I do not know why she is doing this.

August 9th, 2021: Destiel fics hit 100k on Ao3. Misha tweets his support and people remember that he sometimes reads fanfiction and theorize he has an A03 account

September 1st, 2021: Misha makes his first Tiktok. There is a short intro before he calls cut, walks behind a screen, and strips his clothes off

September 3rd, 2021: Jake Abel uses Michael and Adam to help sell his hot sauce brand

September 4th, 2021: Misha confirms that the love between Castiel and Dean was "reciprocated"

September 9th, 2021: A clip of the real Italian dub of the confession scene goes viral as it is revealed that, unlike the Spanish dub, they change the line to "ti voglio bene" or essentially "I love you like family". Misha responds with a video saying "Ciao Italia, ti amo" with the subtitle "Love is love in any language"

September 21st, 2021: Misha drops the fact that one of his poems is from Castiel's perspective.

September 30th, 2021: Jensen will be appearing at a con on the same day as Misha and not with Jared for "professional reasons"

October 4th, 2021: Misha responds to a fan's tweet by saying that Jensen has "crazy eyes and a knife in his pocket"

October 10th, 2021: Daneel posts a picture of Jensen intently reading Misha's poetry book in front of a roaring fire on Instagram. Misha responds that he misses them even more

October 12th, 2021: Jensen is cast in Rust, a (rather ill-fated) western and Misha says "Yippie-ki-yay" and calls him a stud in the comments

October 16th, 2021: Denvercon. Jensen and Jared reunite for the first time since THE INCIDENT

April 24th, 2022: Misha Collins says in terms of being an extrovert, an introvert, or a bisexual, he joked "I'm all three". This led to the internet celebrating Misha's newly revealed bisexuality.

April 25th, 2022: Misha Collins comes out as straight. Oops!

June 19th, 2022: According to Misha, Dean's heaven was supposed to be at the Roadhouse with all his friends and Cas was going to be there with him

November 7th, 2022: Misha calls Elon Musk a snowflake

November 12th, 2022: Tumblr starts planning another Mishapocalypse

January 24th, 2023: Jensen and the cast of the Winchesters throw Dean Winchester a birthday party, including wearing silly little hats

February 26th, 2023: At JIBcon 11, Jensen sings an improvised song about an angel while Misha sits cross-legged on the floor looking up at him

April 1st, 2023: 10 year anniversary of the Mishapocalypse

April 16th, 2023: A year after his bisexual whoopsie daisy, Misha says that Warner Brothers asked him to "let it go" and keep pretending to be bisexual.

August 23, 2023: Rogue Spanish translator is revealed to not have gone rogue at all but instead to have followed the script he was given, confirming the existence of a mutual love confession that was cut at some point.

If you can remember any events and dates that I haven't found, please let me know and I'll add them! I haven't really rounded out 2022 and 2023 yet.

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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

Text

— TWO HEARTED

SUMMARY : playing pretend, doing risky things, improv, Valentine’s Day is more than “unattached drifter Christmas” now.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), tiny bit of trauma/PTSD thoughts, public sex, fingering, car sex, p in v, oral sex, cum play, breeding kink

WORD COUNT : 4.8k

A/N : i see stars song title. this fills the “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but goddamn look at you.” square for my @jacklesversebingo card. I really had fun with this one 😂 xxxxxx

Dean was on the hunt.

Not the typical monster hunt.

It was Valentine's Day, “unattached drifter Christmas,” as he jokingly told Sam a few times in the past. His mission tonight: pleasing the ladies who were out looking for a fun night. Or just one special lady. Whoever caught his eye, whoever was the most interesting to talk to, the most fun to be around. Someone as lonely as him, someone single, someone who would let him in for just one night.

Sure, maybe the suit he was wearing gave false pretences to the women he’d approach or the women who approached him. He knew the consequences of doing that, he could get robbed by the girl he’s with while he’s asleep, or maybe they’ll turn out to be Amazonian women who questionably get themselves pregnant without him knowing, and send their daughters to kill him… He’d rather forget that and the phobias that that made him start to have.

Still, he liked to have fun. And no one in the over-expensive bar knew how embarrassed he was to be so overdressed, but the scotch helped with making him feel a little more comfortable under the gaze of a few women who were instantly eyeing him, hoping he’d make a move.

The lights were white rather than yellow, somewhat bright, and the bartop where he’d ordered from was made of marble rather than wood. It was clean, there were no stains, no circular marks from the condensation of previous drinks left on the surface.

There were perks to these expensive places.

And there was already someone he had his eye on. Because she was funny without having to say a single word. It seemed she had other admirers as well. They sent her drinks and they’d smirk suggestively at her, and the bartender pointed to the man that ordered it for her. Even the bartender was amused. Every time she got a drink, she’d walk around, and hand the drink to the first woman that made her laugh. Each time it was a different woman and Dean only watched with a smirk on his face from the table in the far corner as the events unfolded.

The bright lights above where she sat atop a bar stool made her look celestial. Her hair shimmering brightly, hanging loosely over her shoulders, framing her face gorgeously. Her lucious, kissable lips were as red as raspberries, and the colour of her almond-shaped nails matched both the silk dress with a slit going up to her thigh, and her heels. Her skin looked perfect to kiss, perfect to touch, to bite, and mark. Her smooth, mouthwatering legs were crossed. He’s never paid attention to a woman’s shoes, but either her blood red heels made her look hotter, or she made those red heels look sexier.

Whichever was the case, Dean couldn’t stop picturing lifting her up, and having her legs wrapped around his waist while he fucked her. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like for her nails to scratch down his skin. Or what it would look like to have her red lips wrapped around his cock, leaving red kiss marks on his skin, her lipstick smeared across his lips.

Dean finally stood up and made his way to her. She was talking to—and laughing with—the bartender and one of the women she’d handed her drink to. His stomach knotted up as he got closer, his heart pounded in his chest, something he didn’t often feel when he was approaching someone he wanted.

She was way out of his league.

He had the intention of getting her attention, by extending a small, flirtatious greeting, but his mouth opened up, and nothing came out. His throat clamped up as he eyed her elegant hand playing with a napkin that had her lip stains, and he whimpered instead. She turned around to look at him with a polite smile on her face. Dean only smiled bashfully at her, choosing to order rather than making a bigger fool of himself until he regained the courage to finally talk to her.

“Uh, whiskey,” Dean smiled at the bartender when he came up to ask what he wanted. The mystery woman got along with the bartender because he was married, and the woman that she’d befriended so quickly was genuinely kind and funny. Dean was about to talk to her once more, but the bartender slid the glass of whiskey towards him, so he shut up once more.

He felt too observed. Too tense and anxious to formulate words.

But after about fifteen minutes, the mystery-girl's friend went to go pee and the bartender went off to start making drinks for a group of women that just got there. Dean finally relaxed and then he turned to her, momentarily admiring the side of her gorgeous face.

He didn’t know if it was just him or if there was actually some tension between them. She turned to look at him with a tiny smile, soft locks of her hair fell over her eyes, and Dean’s breath stopped.

Dean had barely collected himself when he smiled at her and said, “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but goddamn… look at you.” Dean was beyond mortified, an intense, fiery blush matching the redness of her lips erupted up his neck like a flare from the Sun.

She laughed softly as Dean stumbled for an excuse or an apology. “Does that usually work on women?” She asked, turning her body to face him, her eyes sparkling with joy and laughter. When she tilted her head, her hair moved with her, falling over shoulders breathtakingly. Dean was mesmerised, but her kindness made him feel at peace, if only a little.

Dean cleared his throat, willed himself to stop flailing by taking hold of his glass, his shoulders dropping humbly, “sorry, I’m a bit rusty.”

“Me too,” she admitted, biting her lip. White teeth sank into red and Dean gulped, trying to swallow down the anxiety that made his heart thunder.

“Seems like you don’t really have to try,” he reassured her, turning his body to face her as she’d done so. She looked away thoughtfully, and placed her arms under her breasts, lifting them up slightly. Dean forced himself to look away from them, and raised the glass to his lips, tracing the tiny chain resting over her collarbones with a tiny charm hanging from the centre.

“I’m too picky for my own good, I guess,” she sighed, playing with her lipstick-stained napkin. Dean inhaled, held his breath as he thought of what to say, then he exhaled a little laugh.

“Can I order you a drink anyway?” He asked lamley, licking his lips slowly, seductively. She dropped her gaze down to his tongue and she smiled.

“Sure,” she shrugged, sliding her arm out from beneath her breasts, much to Dean’s dismay. “Where were you sitting before?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. Everything she did captivated Dean, but he forced his eyes away from her face, and followed her gaze.

“Table by the weird painting.” Dean pointed towards where he was sitting before joining her.

She hummed softly, then faced him again. “Wanna sit back there with me?”

Dean struggled to respond to such a simple question, but he nodded at her instead of opening his mouth, and making a bigger fool of himself. Thankfully, the bartender returned when mystery-woman locked eyes with him from a distance. It was then that Dean remembered he didn’t know her name.

The bartender smiled at her, then peered curiously at Dean. “Uh, I don’t know his name,” she laughs while looking into Dean’s daydreaming eyes, “but he’s gonna order me a drink.” It’s like the two of them have an inside joke, because the bartender snorts, and she’s grinning at him like she just caught the mouse she’d be toying with.

“What’ll it be, then?” The bartender asked Dean, smiling mildly. Dean thought for a while, he gazed at her: the cherry colour of her lips that hadn’t faded despite the deep colour on the napkin, the pinkish blush on her cheeks, the sexy scarlet of her nails, the soft rose dress slipping over her body, and the matching red heels.

“Raspberry martini.” The bartender nodded and turned away with his lips stretched into a gentle smile. “I’m Dean,” he told her to fill the silence. She moaned, low, and he knew she hadn’t meant it to be lewd, but that’s exactly how it felt with a jolt of arousal to his cock.

She gave him her name and the bartender returned with the raspberry martini, slowly sliding it to her with his eyes on Dean. Approval made the bartender step away with a smile, and Dean finally relaxed slightly, letting his gaze drift to her once more. She hummed softly at the drink, curled her fingers gracefully around the glass, and took a sip—enough to savour it properly.

After letting it settle in her taste buds, she pulled the steel pick holding three raspberries. The sweet alcohol dripped down her pretty fingers and Dean’s mouth went dry, but when she wrapped her lips around the first berry, Dean’s mouth watered. He shifted his leg a little, trying to get rid of the tight feeling around his crotch, and realised how hard he was as his sensitive cock pressed against the thin material of his slacks.

“Okay,” she said after chewing and returning the pin into the martini, “let’s go.” Dean blinked at her dumbly.

“Go?” He blushed, leaning forward a little.

“To the table,” she chuckled, hopping down from the stool. Dean cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck out of embarrassment for how eager he sounded. She didn’t seem to mind as she cupped her drink again, glancing down shamelessly at the small tent in his dress pants.

“Fuck,” Dean shuddered, drawing her gaze up to his. He observed her for a few seconds as he slid off the stool, staring down at her. Her nipples were pinched tight and poking through the thin cloth of her dress, her pupils dilated and pushed against the colour of her irises, she breathed unevenly, and was tightening her grip around the glass.

Dean carefully took her waist and pulled her close, her gasp only made him hornier. Dean leaned down to her ear, his stomach fluttering when she leaned into him. He slid his hand down lower to squeeze her ass, then slid his hand back up the silky dress to hold her waist, and rubbed the silky material between his rough fingers, pulling away just to watch her.

Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were a darker shade of rose.

“Careful,” Dean murmured, pulling away to guide her towards the table that he’d sat in earlier. She nodded, carefully sipped on her drink, and he smiled when he gazed down at her.

When they sat, she took the seat with the wall behind her, and he moved his chair to sit closer to her. He watched her closely, and she did the same to him, pushing the berries around inside the martini glass.

“Hard limits?” He asked, gently bringing his fingertips to her knee—the one exposed by the long slit. He felt her move her leg closer to his hand, so he rested it flat on her soft, warm skin, slowly sliding up the inside.

“Haven’t found any, yet,” she whispered, taking his wrist in her hand. Dean couldn’t help flinching, but he relaxed when she began to guide it up faster, higher between her legs. “At least none that apply to you,” she purred, allowing him to cup her pussy.

Dean could feel how warm and wet she was beneath the lace of her underwear and he moaned. She took the martini and took another sip, trying to act normal while he placed his hand inside her underwear, two fingers separating her drenched folds. He flicked her clit with his middle finger and played with the wetness that resided on her pussy.

“Did you come here for a good time with the ladies or to go back home with a guy?” Dean asked gruffly, watching her try not to squirm with a smirk on his face. He wished he could touch himself, or get her to touch him, but for now, he pushed his finger into her warm, fluttering walls.

“Mostly the first thing,” she murmured, spreading her legs for his hand to fit, “but then I saw you and I changed my mind.” Dean laughed, pressing his palm against her clit, slowly starting to pump his finger in and out of her.

“So, love at first sight it is,” he joked, moving his hand faster. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into her shoulder to hide her face from everyone else. She bit her lip and moaned softly, her cunt soaking his hand.

“Love? Too early to tell,” she teased. She offered him her last raspberry and he let her feed it to him. His mouth watered chewing on the partially sour fruit and he stared at her as she drank the rest of the martini, licking away some of the remaining salt around the rim.

“All I can think about is how good you’re going to taste,” Dean purred seductively, grinding his palm against her swollen clit. She grinned mischievously. “Wanna see my car?” He asked, pulling his finger from her warmth to massage around her clit.

As soon as they exited the bar, Dean wrapped his arms around her from behind, chuckling against the skin of her neck. He kissed her softly, inhaling the expensive perfume on her skin, as he manoeuvred her across the parking lot to get to his car.

She giggled and squirmed, moaning softly when he sucked at her pulse, and dragged his tongue upwards to her earlobe. His hands groped her body, grabbed her hips, squeezed her ample breasts, his fingers teasingly rubbing her nipples over the dress until they were pinched tight underneath.

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?” Dean murmured, his cock twitching when she cursed softly under her breath.

She turned around in his arms, teasingly bringing him down while walking backwards as carefully as she could. Dean held his breath, baited by her warm breath against his lips, only for her to move away, and lick his cheekbone.

Dean laughed loudly, and his hands slipped down to squeeze her ass, grinding his hard cock against her stomach. “How far is your car?” She whined, sneaking her hand down between their bodies to stroke his cock over his pants. Dean gasped, his hips thrusting into her hand, and grunted softly when she squeezed.

“Here,” he panted, pushing her up against cold, black metal. She turned back to admire the shiny car, the sleek, elegant lines of it while he trailed his mouth across her clavicle. He cupped her warm breasts in his bigger hands, ghosting his lips and scruffy chin along her cleavage until she shivered, and turned back to him.

She took his jaw in her hands, and moved his face up to hers. Finally, red lips pressed against his and made him breathless. He stood at his normal height, forcing her to tilt her head back, his fingers digging into her sides. He licked into her mouth, tasting sweet, salty berries and alcohol with a moan. She met his warm tongue in a dirty frenzy of passion and her lipstick smeared across his pillowy lips.

She lifted her leg up his thigh, and even over layers, it sent an erotic tingle along his leg that moved up to his swollen cock. His dick moved beneath his boxers for attention. He instantly took her soft thigh, sliding his hand up her hot skin and inside the slit, lifting her up until she stood on her toes to grind his aching cock against her core.

“Please, fuck me, Dean,” she whispered against his lips. With every word, her lips brushed against his, sending a spark of arousal across his entire body, making his muscles twitch and tingle. To his surprise, she crumpled the dress up to her waist, revealing red-lace panties. But she kept pulling it up, and his hands enchantedly followed the exposed warm skin until she got the dress off herself completely, standing bare before him in the parking lot.

“God, you are so hot, baby,” he murmured, taking the dress from her. He unlocked the door clumsily, lowering his mouth to her exposed breasts, relishing in her moans when he sucked on her nipples. She began grinding against his thigh and he moaned in approval. One of her hands held the back of his neck, keeping his mouth close to her chest, and the other rubbed his throbbing cock. He pulled away from one nipple to wrap his warm mouth around the other one, leaving it as wet and hard as the other.

Dean pulled her away from the door and opened it for her. She sighed shakily, shuddering in the cool air, and slipped inside wordlessly, facing him as he shoved his suit jacket off his shoulders. He ducked his head inside, and threw the keys, his jacket, and her dress into the front seat.

“I like your car, it’s somehow… almost as hot as you are,” she breathed, watching him climb inside after her, loosening his red tie, and shut the door behind him. She scooted up, but he gripped her thighs with a deep chuckle that made her squeeze her legs together.

“Thanks,” Dean murmured, “it looks better in here with you naked.” She smiled bashfully and laid back against the door silently, gazing at Dean who kissed her ankles, his warm lips moving up her calves. Her legs fell open as he moved higher, his eyes glued to her shimmering folds behind the red lace. Dean lunged forward, and pressed a kiss to her clit over her underwear, and teasingly traced the bottom of her underwear, tugging the ruined lace away from her soppy folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Dean groaned, his fingers grazing her warm slick, “I can’t wait to sink my cock into your pretty little pussy.” She moaned softly, cupping her breasts as she ground against his tantalising mouth. He pulled her underwear to the side and swirled his tongue around her entrance, moaning at the taste of her. His mouth watered instantly and he flattened his tongue up between her pussy lips to tease her clit.

“Holy fuck, Dean,” she gasped. She buried her fingers into his hair and wiggled her hips impatiently. Dean laughed against her and she whined when he pulled away.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he ordered, then plunged a finger into her dripping hole. She gasped, her cheeks red, watching him undo his belt with his other hand. She folded, and did as he asked, moving forward to bring her swollen clit against his palm, holding onto the seat to lift herself up and down on his finger. He curled it against her walls just right, pulled his belt out of the loops, and burrowed a second finger into the warm wetness between her legs.

Dean took her hip and brought her closer so he’s the one leaning against the door of his car. He worked her open with two thick fingers and she placed her hands on his chest, clutching his vest, spreading her legs wider for him. She moaned his name, and dropped her face into his neck, trembling as she lifted her hips up and down on his hand.

“Good girl, keep going,” Dean praised, feeling more of her arousal against his fingers, dripping down his hand. He felt her tighten around his fingers and she got breathier, sucking a mark in his neck as she rolled her hip against his palm. Dean pulled his fingers out of her and she pulled away to narrow her eyes at him.

“Why are you still dressed?” She panted, unbuttoning his vest to distract herself from the need to come. Dean stared at her lips hungrily, and forced his eyes up to hers to suck her juices from his fingers. “You got what you wanted, a taste of me,” she teased, then bit her lip, starting on the buttons of his white dress shirt as he slipped his fingers out of his mouth. “What do I get?”

“Did you know that every time your lips move, I picture them wrapped around my cock?” Dean trailed his fingers up her sides, and she halted, blinking at him with amusement. She sank her teeth in her plump lip, and giggled, finishing with the last button on his shirt.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then, pretty boy,” she smirked flirtatiously, tugging his shirts out from under his pants. She dropped a quick kiss on his forehead, which made Dean pout, but she shoved the white t-shirt up his chest, and began to kiss his chest.

She swirled her tongue around his nipples and Dean groaned, watching her swing her hair to the side as she kissed hard at his freckled skin. Her soft tongue lapped at his flesh, sucking marks on his twitching muscles, scraping her teeth down lower and lower.

Her red nails followed, sparking arousal as they brushed along his nipples, hooking onto his pants, popping the button out of the slit, zipping them down slowly. Dean bit his lip and lifted his hips up, allowing her to tug his slacks and boxers down his hips and thighs. Her hair tickled his skin and he shivered. She marked his hip bones with hickies, his pelvis, the v-mark leading to his cock. She stopped kissing him until his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach—red, leaking, and throbbing for release.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” she whispered.

She wrapped her red lips around the head of his cock and sucked without warning. Dean moaned loudly and choked on a gasp, clutching the leather seat as she gently stroked the rest of his cock. Her tongue moved along his glans and Dean whined, a shudder of pleasure shaking his body. She took him deeper and sucked harder, and then she nearly swallowed his cock whole. Dean choked on a loud, lustful moan, his hips bucking upwards into her hot and wet mouth.

Her red lips slid up and down his cock, leaving him slick with warm saliva, and Dean thought he might just cum at the sight of her. She moaned around him, the sound vibrated through him, blood rushed all over his body, making him hot and desperate.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and she reached in between his legs to fondle his balls. Dean nearly jammed his cock into her mouth and she whined, her jaw coming loose. Dean shoved her head all the way down anyway, and her nose pressed against the patch of thick, coarse hair.

Dean’s balls drew in and his body became tense, he expected his climax to ripple through his body, but she slurped up his cock, spit and precum connecting the head of his dick to her pretty lips. “God, fuck!” Dean grunted, his orgasm slowly and painfully evaporating.

“Dean,” she murmured, tugging his pants lower with his help. She straddled his legs, and leaned down to press tender kisses to his neck, biting at the stubble there, before tugging his ears with her teeth.

“Do you like these?” He murmured, pulling her panties to the side to slide his swollen cock through her slick cunt. She released a breathy moan, and began to roll her hips against his throbbing dick, coating him with her slick while his precum rubbed through her a slit.

“Yes,” she pouted, then smirked when he groaned in irritation, his eyes rolling back. She moved away from him, and quickly discarded her panties, before inching closer to him. “You collect underwear?” She mocked, dangling her ruined, red lace intimates in front of him.

Dean snatched them from her with a sarcastic laugh, then he turned serious. “No, but I can collect yours if we do this often,” he grinned mischievously, shoving her underwear into the pocket of his vest.

She bit her lip and hovered over his cock, hooking her thumbs under the shirt to keep it up on his chest. She looked at Dean expectantly and he snorted. She didn't have to say a word. Dean lifted his hips, and in a sharp thrust, he entered her delightfully wet and warm walls.

She let out a surprised cry of pleasure and ground down against him. He could feel her walls clench and unclench around him, then he lowered his hips, keeping her hovered so only the tip remained inside her, teasing his frenulum. Dean’s fingers dug into her hips and he slammed her over his throbbing erection, enjoying the sensation of her slick insides as he filled her up once more.

Wet and obscene sounds filled the small space every time he pounded his hips up into her and she ground down on him to create friction on her clit. Dean had a thousand dirty things to say to drive her crazy, but as the car shook with their efforts, the words got jumbled up in his brain, spilling out like water in a glass during an earthquake.

All he could do was moan with her, desperate, clinging to her so tightly all he could feel was her all around him. She lowered one leg to the floor of the car, opening herself more to him so that Dean’s cock slipped inside her fully, aching to touch every part deep inside her. He felt whole, warm, tingly, enraptured.

“Please,” she panted, “come inside me, Dean. Fill me up.” With a long, deep groan of her name, Dean’s hot cum spilled inside her, and her vagina squeezed him tight, her own sticky release coating his throbbing cock. She gasped and dropped her forehead to his cheek bone, chanting his name quietly, riding each other through their orgasms, meeting his every thrust.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a warm embrace as the thrust of his hips came to a slow stop, with both of them heaving. She finally relaxed in his arms, but lifted her face to breath exotically against his lips, a smug smile on her red lips.

“How was that, sweetheart?” Dean asked fondly, moving away stray strands of her hair before bringing her down for a kiss. She moaned softly against the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, before lifting herself up so he slid out of her. Dean could faintly feel their release dripping over his cock and thighs, but the gentle scrape of her cherry-red nails down his chest took his mind off it.

“So goddamn good, baby,” she praised him softly when she pulled away. She gave him a short kiss and sat on his tummy, a mixture of their fluids spilled from inside her, and pooled over his navel.

Dean reached down to play with the puddle of their release, then he thrusted his finger up into her—slick and all. Dean smirked when she groaned, but lowered his gaze to stare at her tits as she attempted to catch her breath.

She moved away from him, ignoring his pout, and his shameless, salacious stare. She leaned over the front seat to pick her dress up from the front seat, giving Dean a full view of her glistening vulva and the mixture of their spendings dripping out of her.

“What if I get you pregnant?” Dean bit his lip, struggling to pull his boxers over his wet cock—trousers bunched with underwear. She sat with her dress in her hands, her eyes glazing as she daydreamed. Dean remained quiet with her, focusing on getting his clothes back on in the tight space of his car. He pulled his pants up his legs, lifting his hips to zip them back up. “Funny story to tell the kids,” he grinned, but beneath his amusement, there was a little bit of hope and tenderness. “Here,” Dean pulled her underwear from the small pocket of his vest and handed them over to her.

“Thanks,” she smiled, watching him button his shirts up. She stood as best as she could without hitting her head on the roof of the car, turning around, and shaking her ass a little. Dean stared at her jiggling ass with a smile. His green eyes flickered up to hers when she turned to face him with a grin after pulling her soiled panties up legs, keeping their cum inside her.

“This would be a funny story,” she agreed with a laugh, making Dean smile. She found her place back in his arms, resting her head on his chest. Dean rubbed her back soothingly and closed his eyes, humming softly when she began tracing random shapes on his chest. “I love you, so much,” she mumbled, nuzzling into his chest, inhaling the scent of him.

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lucysgraybird · 8 days

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whoa...part 3 of modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader, and it's 18+? who is she. anyways part 1 here, part 2 here

warnings: mdni, oral (f&m receiving), p in v (unprotected), blood mentions (minor), religious imagery (minor)

The summer between junior and senior year comes and goes, as does the first semester of your last year in college. It's filled with internships and grad school applications, but you're still going strong with Coriolanus. You get through the most unguarded you've ever seen him – the weeks leading up to the release of LSAT scores. You're actually unaware that it's coming up because he's been so private about the whole process until you get into a screaming match in the Snow apartment with him about something you can't even remember now. When you threaten to leave if he can't be polite, he breaks down crying – something you didn't even know he was capable of. He apologizes and explains himself, and though you suspect his tears aren't genuine, you catch him in a hug and hold him on the couch until he falls asleep.

A week letter, his score comes in the mail: a perfect 180. The celebration is quiet – just you, his family, and his boss, who Coriolanus is closer with than you knew. He's an interesting man – his name is Strabo Plinth, and you learn that he's the CEO of a company that manufactures weapons for the government. You want to tell your boyfriend that such a job may not play well on his resumé at the polls, if that's where he wants to end up, but it's not your place and you're sure he's thought about that.

All in all, by the time the spring semester rolls around, your futures are beginning to take shape. You both get into your dream schools, him for law and you for intelligence analysis. When that letter comes in, Coriolanus teases you up and down about being the stereotypical academic recruit into the CIA, but you care more to understand these agencies than work for them. You won't attend school together anymore, but it's not more than an hour by train to visit, and there's been no indication of the end of your relationship nearing. In fact, when your parents come down for parents’ weekend, Coriolanus spends about forty minutes talking to your father away from you and your mother, and when they rejoin the group, your father claps you on the shoulder and tells you that you found a good man.

There's a brief, blissful period at the end of the year before graduation when everything's been turned in and you can just enjoy the sunshine and new warmth. One of these days finds you and Coriolanus lounging on the quad on a blanket. Your head is in his lap as he plays with your hair, working his fingers through the small tangles that the early May breeze has created. It is quiet, and you are bored.

“Oh, Coriolanus,” you say, opening your eyes to lock on his. The midday light turns them almost white, like his eponymous snow. It takes a lot of willpower not to pull a face.

“Yes, darling?” A nickname he's picked up in the last month or so. It made you laugh in shock the first time he said it, but now it feels lush.

“I got an email from the dean the other day. I made valedictorian,” you say with a toothy, cruel grin.

You're hoping for a reaction, maybe a flash of anger. It dances across his features for the barest fraction of a second, enough to work a little adrenaline through your body, and then you get a neat smile and a cock of his head.

“Congratulations.”

“You're not mad?”

“Why would I be? You've worked hard, you deserve it. I'm not going to get upset over a silly title.”

You sit up and turn to stare at him. “What do you mean, silly?”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes. “Don’t be like that. I mean that I decided it wasn’t important to me anymore, now that I’ve gotten into law school. I thought you had gotten over it too, but since it’s important, congratulations.”

He’s deflecting, obviously, and you tell him as much.

The corners of his mouth quirk up and he shrugs. “Okay.”

“No, you are! What, did you get salutatorian? Since when are you fine with second place?”

“Since first place wouldn’t have gotten me anything, darling. You’re ruining this for yourself, okay? I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

You’re left with nothing to say, searching his face for any mark of that brief rage from earlier before flumping back into his lap. He laughs.

“I’m sorry, baby. You don’t need to pout. I would’ve said something else if I had known it was going to upset you like this.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not,” you say, giving him a gracious smile, having found a new mate-in-one. “Whether or not you wanted the title anymore, we’ll always know who’s smarter.”

Your face says teasing – your tone has teeth. Coriolanus’ eyes narrow.

“That’s not what this means.”

“It’s what it means to me. And you clearly don’t care about that, so it should be no problem if that’s how I’m taking it.”

And ooh, you know it’s petty. You know this is possibly the most childish conversation you’ve had with anyone in years. But he doesn’t reply, opting instead to settle back on his hands and stare across the quad. There’s a mean tension in the air now, blooming hot, fizzy pride in your sternum. It’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe through it until it’s just another triumph.

Graduation goes as smoothly as anything run by the school can – which is to say, too long and a bureaucratic clusterfuck – but you give your speech and get your diploma and take about forty pictures of Coriolanus onstage, and it feels like the perfect punctuation on this chapter of your life. After seemingly endless festivities and photoshoots with various family members, you’re dropped back at your apartment. There is no work to be done, for once: nothing to write or study, and your lease doesn’t end for another month, so nothing to pack. For the first time in your memory, you are truly idle, and you’re learning that it is not a feeling you enjoy. You pick up your phone and call your boyfriend.

“Hi, darling,” he says when he picks up. His voice is brighter than usual, a sure sign that he’s been drinking. “Did you get home okay?”

“Mhm. Did you?”

“Just laying in bed now.”

“Oh.” You try to keep yourself from sounding too disappointed, but from the huff of laughter on the other end of the call, you know he’s picked up on it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, but if you’re in bed, then nevermind.”

“Come over, like–”

“If you want.” You have yet to go this far with him, but tonight seems like as good a night as any.

“Um, okay. Yeah, I’ll be right over.”

The line goes dead, and you have to laugh. For all his airs and poise, he is still just a man.

The benefit of today being important is that you’re already pretty done-up: your makeup is still perfect, though your lipstick gets a reapplication, your hair looks good, and you have matching, nicer undergarments on. Honestly, you’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do for this, not with him, and the confidence you had calling Coriolanus is fading fast.

Unfortunately, it’s too late to be having those thoughts, because within twenty minutes, he’s knocking on your door. You let him in. He's still in his button-down, tie, and slacks from graduation, though he's shed his suit jacket. He leans down to catch you in a quick kiss. You wrap a hand around the Windsor knot in his tie, though whether it's to steady yourself or pull him closer is a mystery even to you. Not like it makes a difference; it elicits an electric, low groan from him anyways, his mouth opening over yours and deepening the kiss. He tastes like champagne, sweet and shimmery and young. It is a contrast to the way he grabs your waist with a heavy hand and presses his tongue in to fight yours, which feels like whiskey; all heady, stinging heat. You have not had anything to drink: you are starting to wish you had.

When he pulls away to catch his breath, his lips are swollen and slick and stained with your blood-red lipstick and finally, finally, something alights in your chest and in your stomach and even lower, a ball of fire sitting in the cradle of your pelvis. You release his tie and drag a manicured thumbnail under the line of his bottom lip, smudging away the rouge you left there.

“Pretty,” you murmur, though you're not sure where that comes from. He is pretty, though, especially like this; undone and imperfect and desperate (you can tell as much by the way he's pressing into your hip), all for you.

A growl releases from Coriolanus' throat and his hand goes to the belt of your dress, deftly undoing the buckle. He is desperate, but desperate for you to know that you haven't made him weak. You can only have from him what he is willing to give, he will take from you anything he wants. Or, at least, that's how he thinks as he starts dragging the zipper of your dress down, crowding you against your apartment wall.

“I have a bed, Coriolanus,” you protest weakly, the complaint dying on your lips as his latch onto your pulse point. He scrapes his teeth over the tendon in your neck, and you recall how he smiled at you when you were first dating, like he wanted to eat you. You realize he could now, if he tried, open his maw wide and sink sharp canines into the side of your throat, pierce the carotid artery and stain perfect teeth red with blood. Tipping your head back against the wall, you shiver and give him better access.

“Let’s go, then,” he murmurs, not stopping his ministrations on your collarbone, where he's working a bruise into the hollow between your clavicle and the muscle of your shoulder.

You shove his head back gently and lead him to your room, which is tidy save for your desk, which is still scattered with papers from exams. Coriolanus doesn't seem to care, just crowding you back towards your hospital-cornered bed. Once you're down, he's crawling over you and returning to suck marks down your shoulders and chest as he tugs your dress off your body. When he gets to your bra (a small, silk thing, meant to lay smooth under the dress you wore today), he just stares for a moment, tracing a finger over the fine fabric. Just as you're about to tell him to do something, Jesus Christ, he latches his lips over your nipple and mouths at it through the cloth, sending sparks down your spine and a wavering moan up your esophagus. When he switches to the other side, the wet patch is exposed to the air and the sudden chill is almost more electric than the warmth of his tongue. You wonder if he could push you over the edge with just this; it certainly feels like he could. Then he shoves a hand under your back to release the clasp and tear your bra off, and the two seconds his mouth is off your skin gives just enough reprieve that when he returns and bites down, the rush of pleasure drops straight to your core with an ache that has your hips canting up. This inspires a breathy, warm chuckle from Coriolanus.

“Impatient,” he teases.

You swallow hard. “It's not my fault you're…”

“Good at this?” He says, dipping his hand between your legs and dancing his fingers over the gusset of your panties, eliciting a whimper and an honest nod from you.

“You don't know the half of it, darling,” and he hooks his arms under your knees to drag your hips forward until they're nearly off the bed. He's knelt between your legs like he's taking the Eucharist, ready to devour the blood and body of all that is holy. You watch his blonde head through fluttering lashes as he licks a line up the inside of your thigh before biting down right where it meets your hip. He breaks the skin, soothes the little wound with his tongue as he works your underwear down your legs. The way he stares at you – all of you – while he's still fully clothed, no mark of the past half-hour except his loosened tie and lipstick-marked mouth, makes you squirm. He braces your hips down with a strong forearm and looks up at you with a hunger in his icy eyes that is yet unfamiliar to you.

“Pretty,” he whispers like the beginning of a prayer, echoing your earlier utterance, and collects your wetness on his index finger as he runs it through your folds.

The foreign feeling makes you whine. Coriolanus’ tongue flicks out over his lips like a snake before he dives into your cunt like a man starved. When your hand shoots down and grabs his hair, the groan that he lets out against you has you jerking like you've been electrocuted. He only grabs the fat of your hips harder, the pads of his fingers pressing in so hard that you're sure you'll have little dotted bruises there in the morning. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he works you to orgasm, your body trembling and your breath stilted as you teeter on that peak. His eyes flash and one hand releases you. Before you can ask what he's doing, he plunges two fingers into you and curls them up right as he sucks your clit hard, and that pain-pleasure of the sudden intrusion combined with his mouth has white-hot flames engulfing your body as stars explode in your vision and your legs very nearly go numb. His tongue and fingers don't stop until you're coming down and pleading with him in a broken voice, an orison to the congregant turned deity drunk on newfound power. He acquiesces, though, crawling up your body to kiss you and lick the taste of your pleasure into your mouth. Underneath it, there's the bitter, sanguine taste from his bite to your thigh, a reminder of the vulnerability necessary for that blessing.

Legs still shaking, head still a little fuzzy, you use his determination to kiss you breathless to flip the narrative so you're straddling his hips, his growing need heavy and hard against you through the fabric of his dress pants. One eyebrow twitches up as he grins, though it wavers when you shift on him.

“My turn?” He asks as he smooths his hands down your thighs, and you know he can feel the way your muscles twitch and jump under your skin.

“Your turn,” you reply, and shift so you can undo his belt.

The metal of the buckle is cold in your hands, your skin still feeling a little like it's been set aflame, but you get it off and shove your hand into his boxers, unceremoniously pulling out his cock. He lets out a choked groan at the speed, and you think his eyes roll back in his head when you slide down his body. You allow yourself a moment of hesitation, having never done this before (or even really thought about it) before taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. The moan he lets out is primal, raw, and you are determined to get another from him as you hollow your cheeks and sink down further, minding your teeth enough to let them just graze the shaft. He shudders and jerks upward, hitting the back of your throat, and though it makes you gag, there's a certain pride in knowing you're breaking his composure, so you hold him there for a moment until he whimpers and slides a hand into your hair and you know you've taken the power back that he stole from you a moment ago. You swallow around him there before slowly moving back up, flattening your tongue against the underside before licking over his slit and sinking back down as far as you can bear, and his voice cracks around a moan as he cums down your throat.

When you pull off him and swallow, he has an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath.

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asks. His hair is tousled, sweaty strands stuck to his forehead and you grin, toothy and mean.

“Beginner’s luck,” you say as you take his softening dick in hand and watch how quickly he sits up.

“What are you-” he starts, but cuts himself off with a whine as you slide your hand up and down a couple times, trying to work him back up. “Stop, stop, that-”

Another moan, and you watch, pleased, as he starts to harden again in your grip. To be honest, you don't know where you're going with this, or what you expected to happen, you just wanted to see what other reactions you could get from him, how far you could take your regained power.

As it stands, not very far, because he's hissing as you slide your thumb over the tip and flipping you over again so his elbows are braced next to your head.

“You're on the pill, right?” He reaches down between you to swipe his fingers over your clit.

You nod and buck your hips up into his hand, and with a breathy chuckle, he takes himself in hand and starts to guide himself into your entrance. There's a slight sting - he's bigger than anyone you've ever been with before - but he takes it slow, an uncharacteristic tenderness.

That is, until he's buried to the hilt and staring down at you, then snapping his hips in a way that should hurt but doesn't. It feels full and close and warm, his skin sliding against yours, sweat and other fluids mingling. You sneak a hand down to your clit and rub quick and hard, the way you do when you're alone at night and just need to get off and go to sleep. You're determined to reach your release before he does and you succeed, catching him in a kiss just as you cum, muffling your moans against his lips. The way your walls clench around him has him going rigid and giving you the most raw, tearing groan as he spills deep inside you, clearly not having expected to get there as quickly as you forced him to. He doesn't pull out immediately, opting instead to kiss you again, and you're not sure where you end and he begins, every bit of you mixed, in some way, with every bit of him. You stroke over the tense muscles in the back of his neck and he lets out a shaky breath onto your skin. Somehow, you know you've won this round, taken a weakness from him that he never meant to show you. When he rolls off you and tugs you into his side, you close your eyes, sleepy and sated in more ways than one.

#this...this was fun #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you #coryo #coryo x reader #coryo snow #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader

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therebekahmikaelson · 1 year

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“Am I going to die?” - from Dean

Blood & Bruises

A pair of blue eyes and pursed lips examined Dean with a look of wariness. "Maybe," said Mary Mikaelson-Winchester solemnly, as she thrust an empty plastic cup under his nose. "Drink this and you'll feel much better." Opposite the room, her mother watched the scene. She was not sure she wanted to know the contents of Mary's imaginary healing beverage.

"Come on, love," said Rebekah, disrupting the child's tending to her ailing patient. "I think he'll fair alright under your care. Though doesn't fix his foolishness, does it?" This, along with a generous amount of kisses to Mary's face, gave their youngest a giggle.

Brushing strands of blonde from the girl's forehead, Rebekah pried the plastic cup from the fingers of the little creature that was well-worth mortality. Well worth the centuries she longed for a child; well worth the decades she searched for the cure. Mary was the spitting image of her mother but with Dean's ridiculous smile. This, the Original decided, was her kryptonite. "What exactly happened to your poor old dad? Speeding around in Baby too fast?" "No, no, no," the girl corrected with irritation. "A ghost ate him but I saved him." Rebekah shot Dean a look over the wriggling bundle in her arms. "Right. I'm very glad he has you."

#wronglyrighteous #v: a white picket fence #PLOT TWIST - have some domestic Dean #PERHAPS THIS WAS MORE OF A DRABBLE SO SUE ME

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soupy-sez · 1 year

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At War with the Army (1950)

#at war with the army #movies #1950 #50s #dean martin #jerry lewis #movie cuts #v #music #beans #classics #black and white #soupy's

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kai-anderson-whore · 7 months

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His protégé (James Patrick march x fem reader smut) (kinktober fic 3)

Summary: you met James like his other “students” but after years off him taken you under his wing you couldn’t handle the pressures.

Warnings: smut, mentions of killing, becoming a serial killer, p in v sex, slight edging, knife kink, oral (reader receiving), tiny bit of spanking (like one spank), feeling like being watched, fear of abandonment(James not wanting reader to leave like the countess sort of did), James being possessive.

Word count: 3k

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You met him over three years ago, the same way as all his "students". Coincidentally waltzing into the Cortez when the world felt like it could swallow you whole, well at least that's what you felt like you wanted the world to do. To say this was the worst week you ever had was the understatement of the century.

You sat by the bar toying with the glass of alcohol in front of you. 'Was drowning your sorrows even worth it?', 'is getting so wasted that you'd might get kicked out the the hotel even worth it?' You wondered something that became routine over the past few days residing at this hotel. The bar was practically empty considering it was late on in the night.

The bartender who you soon known as liz shooting you a sympathetic smile every now and then. You observed the lavish historical hotel, full of art deco some antiques from the 1920s. You had heard all the rumours and stories of this hotel's history to say that it intrigued you would be the best way to put it. You heard near enough everything about the hotel Cortez and the "ghosts" residents here thanks to billie dean Howard.

You felt preying eyes on you, furrowed brows you turned and saw nothing... weird you thought. Maybe it was your imagination after all your in an infamous "haunted" hotel. But that was impossible ghosts aren't true, right?. Decided on calling it a night you thanked liz and went to your room 64, famous for being the room of two serial killers John Lowe and the former office of the owner james Patrick march coincidentally.

You still like you were being watched but tried to shrug it off 'relax no one is watching me it's in my head' you thought. Oh how you were wrong, several of ghosts who resisted here had their eye on you. Some curious on why you would come here, others wanted you as their next victim but one specific ghost wanted you as their protege, their next successor.

You finally made it to your room, fumbling around in your Jean pocket for your room key, you jammed the key into the door unlocking the door not before looking around to see if someone was near you. You couldn't shake that feeling that somebody was watching you, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

Locking your room door you let out a breath out didn't know you were holding in. Making your way over to your suitcase you picked out your night attire. You still felt that eerie feeling going into the bathroom to clean your makeup off.

You exited the bathroom now in your pyjamas, the little clock on the nightstand played it's little song like usual "that thing freaks me out" you said out loud. "Don't let that frighten you dear" a voice chimed in making you let out a yelp in fright. Seeing a man sat on the chair a glass of whiskey or bourbon in hand you didn't know.

"Who the fuck are you" you hissed feeling mixed emotions shock, anger, fear of this intruder. "My names James Patrick march I'm the owner of this hotel and I'm afraid I don't like your tone dear" he introduced in a velvety accent getting up from the chair. He was dressed sharp in a pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt with a neck scarf.

"The owner of this hotel died like almost a hundred years ago" you scoffed at the man, which didn't faze him. "Yes that is true but you see in this hotel the dead doesn't exactly die" he stated stepping closer to you as you took steps back. You could see him more clearly now dark hair, pale skin with a pencil moustache that decorated his upper lip and beautiful chocolatey brown eyes that held something sinister in them.

"What do you want from me?" You asked. Even though his eyes held something evil within them you felt drawn to him like he wouldn't hurt you. "I've been watching you my dear, and I couldn't help but see the rage you secure within you" he said. A confused look on your face 'was I that noticeably angry?' You thought. "Right so?" You shrugged not quite catching on to what the ghost was saying.

"I want to help you set that rage free"

...

You didn't really remember what happened after that night all you remember was James teaching you everything there is to know about being a killer. For those three years he had taken you under his wing, taught you his ways, showed you his little contraptions within the hotel. And you were nothing if not willing to go through with it all.

You listened to every word that rolled off his tongue about his little plan. There were only three rules he had when it came to his little hobby 1: don't have a method. 2: don't be sloppy about it. 3: don't get caught.

You had just came back from another kill entering James's room on the 7th floor. "Ah your back dear how was it? Tell me the details" James's voice chimed the old fashioned record player playing an old time song. "It was the same as any other time James quick and easy" you sighed finding an old rag to clean yourself up.

"Quick you say, how so?" He asked confused at your lack of creativity unlike it usually was. "Because James I don't want to get caught I have a funny feeling that I'm going to be caught soon so I'm done" you sighed placing your knife on the little table by the bed. James watched your every move deep in thought. He wondered if your proposal was a good move "your going to stop killing?" He asked removing his blazer placing it on a chair, rolling his sleeves up.

"Yes James I'm sorry, I'm grateful you showed me your ways and I really did enjoy my time with you but it's best if i stop now before the heat on my ass gets me burnt" you held your hands up in defence making your way to the door.

James didn't know if he was sad or angry at the fact you've given up on your little spree or was it because you were essentially leaving him. Just as you turned the handle ready to exit till that sophisticated accent stopped you. "Don't go... please" he begged.

James didn't want to admit it to himself but these three years he spent with you were the best years he had in this hotel after he died. He didn't spend his time chasing after his ex-wife the countess, he spent every moment near enough with you enjoying the sick bond you both formed. He grew very fond of you more than his other students you had potential the same characteristics as himself.

"What?" You didn't quite believe what you were hearing, it wasn't the words it was the tone complete desperation. Only time you heard that tone of voice was around the first time you met him when he was desperately trying to get the countess back.

"Please don't leave me I couldn't bare it" he pleaded once again with a meek voice. The door still ajar, your hand on the handle. "James it's for the best anyway we had fun but it's time to get out before it's too late but I need to leave before I get caught" you stated. "I DONT CARE ABOUT THE KILLING Y/N" James yelled taken you aback. He never raised his voice at you once even when he was frustrated with you for some reason he never ever raised his voice.

James walked closer to you his face now red with anger. He wasn't going to let you leave he let one woman slip away he doesn't intend to let it happen again. You were a little nervous at the sudden shift in the room.

"I will not let you leave this hotel not after everything" his voice was calm but his expression said otherwise. You didn't know what was going to happen "what do you mean not letting me leave this hotel?" You asked. "I've grown rather fond of you my dear, I look forward to our little meetings and I guess I can't let that go" his cold breath fanned against your neck sending shivers down your spine.

You almost crumbled as his cold hands rested on your biceps, your breathing quickening with the small touch. Looking into his dark eyes held anger and lust. "I've never felt this way for anyone since the countess but with you dearest, it doesn't compare to the feelings I have for you" his lips in a smirk, seeing you melt from just his words.

It all made sense to you now, you couldn't lie to yourself and say you didn't grow to have strong feelings for the ghost (because that was far from the truth). The truth was you were infatuated with James Patrick march, you spent every moment with him for the past three years it felt impossible not to. People would call you a stupid girl for it.

"James-" you were cut off by his ice cold lips on yours. The kiss was rough but you responded nonetheless. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip demanding entrance. Parting your lips moaning into his mouth, he showed dominance with just his mouth, giving into him, kicking the door shut with your foot.

James guided you to the bed effortlessly, the backs of your knees meeting the foot of the bed. His tongue explored your mouth before he pulled away. James then unbuttoned his dress shirt, your hands roamed his bare chest biting your lip. Your fingers hooking around his suspenders pulling James close to you crashing your lips back on his.

A delighted hum left him as he pushed your body down on the bed. Your legs parted automatically allowing James to slot himself between them. His lips moved to your neck slightly biting the flesh there making you feel dizzy. His hands roamed your sides feeling, caressing every curve that came in contact with his hand.

You sat up as James began to remove your slip dress leaving you in just your underwear. "Your beauty doesn't compare to anything in this world" James's voice was more deep, thick with lust making you grow wetter by the second. "Your mine now dear, I'll never let you go" James snarls, his fingers hooking into your underwear peeling the fabric off your body.

Now just kneeling on the foot of the bed James got a perfect view of your dripping core. "Your all mine" James hummed against your thigh trailing his rough lips upwards till he met where you needed him the most. He was like a possessive animal and you were loving every moment of it.

James licked a strip between your folds bringing you arousal to your clit. You gasped at the shot of pleasure of his mouth on your clit, sucking, swirling his tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands held your thighs apart as wide as he could getting all access to you.

A moan escaped you as he continued his assault on your pussy. Your hand's gripped into the bedsheets underneath you for leverage. It was already too much but you never wanted it to stop. You already felt dangerously close to the edge. James darted his tongue in your entrance, his nose brushing against your clit adding to the pleasure.

"I'm so close" you warned feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your core. James hummed against you devouring you like his last meal. He never stopped his movements bringing his attention back to your clit more rougher than before coaxing you to let go over his tongue.

Your orgasm ripped through you, back arching, toes curling practically screaming his name. "That's it dear let everyone hear who's making you feel this euphoric" he chimed against your glistening heat. He licked up all your juices before pulling away from your heat.

"Oh god" you sighed regaining your breath. Moving your body to sit up by the pillows. James peeled his suspenders off his shoulders, removing his shirt in the process. His hair now disheveled, a beautiful sight to see. You removed your bra leaving yourself fully naked in front of him.

James glanced at the silver knife on the nightstand, he still felt rage for you ready to leave him. He picked the knife up making up gulp, you didn't know his intentions now a look of slight fear yet excitement in your eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you dearest" as if he read your mind with his free hand he undid his slacks and removed his underwear freeing his rock hard cock.

You were drooling at the sight, he was long and thick but not to thick were you'd think he'd slit you in two. His cock slight curved it was probably the most prettiest cock you'd ever seen.

James then got on top of your body slotting himself between your legs. Crashing his lips back on yours, the blade still in hand. Feeling the flat surface of the cold metal on your thigh, sending a shiver through you. He began dragging the metal down your outer thigh, his cock grinding on your inner side.

James pulled away from your lips taking the sharp edge of the knife to your cheek. "You will never leave me dear, I wouldn't allow it" his eyes dark, lustrous and sinister. It all was too addicting, "I'll never leave you James" you whimpered pathetically, the blade dragging from your cheek to under your chin, not to cut you but feel the harshness.

You grew more wetter than you were before. James lined himself up with your entrance before pushing himself into your sopping cunt without warning. You cried out as his thrusts were rough as merciless. Your hands gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin coaxing his thrusts to become more harsher and expeditious.

James dragged the blade to the valley of your breasts. You moaned out feeling the cold metal under your breast. A grunt leaving James's lips "you feel like heaven" he grunted "you will never leave me, you belong to me from now on" he said in between his thrusts. Your walls clenched around him the desire burning like fire.

"Oh fuck" you cried out, chest heaving, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You could barely hear what he was saying. You could see that veins popping out of his neck the blade soon discarded and replaced with his hand on your breast fondling the lump of tissue.

A sigh of pleasure left your lips, feeling close to the edge once again. James didn’t let it go unnoticed, feeling you clenching around him. Much to your dismay James pulled out of you leaving you feeling empty and whimpering. You shot the ghost a confused look “don’t worry dear just turn around for me” James ordered.

Nodding your head you got on your hands and knees, feeling your wetness dripping down your legs in the process. “Your so wet, who for dear?” James cooed in his velvety voice. “You James all for you” your voice was scratchy from the high pitched moans. You felt that blade once again on your lower back.

“Yes dear all for me, no one else” James was possessive over what was his, you were no exception. From his student to now bent over for him as he drags the knife lower over your ass to your core. You moaned in pleasure you didn’t think this would be your type of thing but with James you’d do anything.

A sting on your ass making you jolt forward, James hand colliding with the skin there. You moaned at the sudden feeling, James’s hand soothing the red mark. Lining himself back up with your entrance effortlessly. Your greedy cunt taking him with one thrust.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets once again, your body jolted with each harsh thrust he delivered. All that could be heard in the room was a mixture of you and James’s pleasures, skin slapping off each other and the bed rocking beneath you.

You could have sworn you could feel him in your stomach, one hand on your hip the other toying with the knife along your lower back again. The thrill of what he was going to do next wasn’t like anything before, the anticipation eating you up.

James couldn’t get enough of you, you were like a drug he never wanted rehab for. The way your walls would clench and flutter around him was enough for him to come undone then and there. The way your loud moans filled the room, like music to his ears. You were just perfect to him, his perfect little protégé.

“Who do you belong you?” James grunted thrusting rapidly into your poor little pussy. You tried to get the words out but you couldn’t comprehend amongst all the overwhelming pleasure. Only a strangled moan leaving your lips instead.

Feeling the knife against your neck and an arm pulling you up flush against James’s chest, his cold breath fanning against your ear. “I asked you a question dear, very impolite not to answer” his thrusts harder hitting your cervix granted to make you see stars. You throw your head back to rest in James’s shoulder as you managed to answer.

“I belong to you james, I’m so close” you warned.

James discarded the knife once again, replaced it with his own hand chasing your orgasm. You reached out for his hair tugging on it, your other hand gripped onto his arm around your waist. “Let go for me, darling” he whispered, that was enough for you cumming for a second time. Your grip on his arm tightened releasing all your juices over his cock.

Triggering his own orgasm, James hips snapped upwards spilling his seed deep inside you. A low moan left James as you came with his name on your lips like your only prayer riding out your highs.

Once you both calmed down you leaned onto James skin glistening with sweat, breathing shallow. Gaining the energy to lift yourself off of James you threw yourself onto the pillows feeling knackered. James got off the bed to grab a rag to clean up.

After getting you both clean James threw his undergarments back on climbing into bed beside you. “I won’t leave you James” you said with a weak, tried voice. James wrapped his arm around you, bringing yourself closer to him resting your head on his chest. “I know darling” he hummed deep in thought.

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waynes-multiverse · 14 days

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Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #actress!reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural

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