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loki-cees-all · 6 months

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Hello and hi, my lovely!

I have this scenario for you that I sometimes think about.

How would Loki react if you (the mortal he might have feelings for but he’s not quite certain yet) were the only one to acknowledge his birthday? Maybe you put up a few balloons and even buy him a little cupcake with a candle on it? How would he react?

Happiest of birthdays to you! You’re a joy to know!! I love you!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Cupcake For a God {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : Loki’s birthday is approaching, and it forces himself to reconcile who he wants to be versus who he actually is, and to reflect on his almost certainly unrequited feelings for you.

But what if the feelings weren’t unrequited?

W/c : 1.9k words

Content/Warnings : Angst, a bit of fluff

Author's Note : I swear I tried so hard to make this not so angsty! Please forgive me, Saz! 😭😭😭

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

There were a lot of things for Loki to dislike about living on Midgard.

For starters, he was being forced to live there, inside Stark Tower with the other Avengers as penance for his crimes. It was only fitting, they’d told him, that he should assist in their efforts to keep the mortals safe because he was the reason they needed protecting in the first place.

Loki didn’t bother telling them what Thanos had done to him after he fell from the Bifrost; truthfully, he still didn’t quite understand it himself. That entire year was a blur to him - a painful concoction of lies and manipulations and tears and blood that left him unable to tell the difference between fact and fiction, even almost two years after the torture had began.

He didn’t want anyone to know how weak he was, about how much he’d lost himself. If they knew how vulnerable he was, they might decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and send him to the dungeons of Asgard instead.

Another thing he disliked was the forced pleasantries and unnecessary rituals humans had developed with each other, and by extension, him. The humans would smile as they past him by on the street, but it was a falsity every time; the sentiment never reached their eyes, and Loki could smell their fear from several blocks away.

Loki knew they didn’t actually care how his day was going, that their concern only went as far as making sure he wasn’t on the verge of invading with another alien force under his command. He wasn’t, but honestly, if it meant everyone kept their distance, then he wasn’t going to argue with it.

It wasn’t fair to say that Loki preferred being alone, but he was certainly used to it, and that was in direct contradiction of the forced socialization he had to endure on Midgard - press conferences, team building exercises (which Loki believed was just an excuse to consume copious amounts of food and drink), training sessions, something called “movie nights”, and missions across the world to dismantle S.H.I.E.L.D.’s various bunkers and bases.

It was so much talking, and even more listening. So much lying and pretending that everything was fine, that Loki didn’t feel like a caged monster, and that everyone else wasn’t waiting for the littlest thing to completely set him off.

But Loki was trying as hard as he could to ignore the dull ache that haunted his dreams and every waking moment. He knew he had hurt people, he knew he needed to make up for his grievous transgressions, but he didn’t know how else to make up for it all. So he pressed on, through the discomfort and awkwardness, in the hope that one day everything might become a little easier.

The one bright side to all of this, the one shimmering ray of light amidst the sea of gray, was you. Loki didn’t quite know what to make of his attraction to you - was it real, or was it just your absence of fear in his presence? Had it just been too long since he’d felt the touch of another, or were you actually everything he’d ever wanted?

Loki almost didn’t want to find out, in case it wasn’t real. Because your smile reached your eyes every time you looked at him, and your laughter was like sparks blowing across the embers of a dying fire…but he couldn’t shake the fear that it could just be another trick.

Perhaps his mind still hadn’t fully recovered from Thanos’ torture. Maybe Thor had put you up to this, as a way of making assimilation easier for him.

Because why else would you look at him like that? Why would you go out of your way to sit next to him during the team’s movie nights? Why else would you lean towards him on the couch and fall asleep against the shoulder of a villain, of a monster, of a fool?

It was stupid, and pointless, and illogical, and just like him to irrationally want something he couldn’t ever have. He was a God, and you were a mortal, and it would ultimately end in heartache either way. So while he had the chance, Loki forced himself to remain content and to just linger in the question of what if you could want him too.

The final thing about Midgard, and the one he despised the most, was the mortal obsession with birthdays. Loki was grateful the Asgardians never paid any attention to such silly and exhausting traditions - which was surprising, considering how much Asgardians loved frivolity.

So he really shouldn’t have been shocked when Thor discovered, and subsequently fell in love with, the concept of birthdays. His brother immediately requested his mortal companion Jane to perform the necessary calculations to determine the Midgardian equivalent of Thor’s birthdate - and Loki’s as well, which his brother gleefully announced to the entire team and embarrassed him to the deepest pits of his soul.

A massive celebration was planned for Thor, with enough food and drink to sustain a small country, and on the special night, flashing lights and loud music bathed the massive common room of Stark Tower in merriment and laughter. Everyone was invited, and it would have been rude for Loki to not make an appearance - but it wasn’t because he wanted to admire you in your party dress, although that was a very lovely bonus.

But as gorgeous as you looked - the longer the party went on, the sadder Loki became. Everyone was talking, smiling, and dancing, congratulating Thor on his many accomplishments and swapping happy stories of all the good times they’d had together. It was painful to witness, to know for a fact that no such party would be happening for himself when his birthday rolled around.

Loki tried telling himself that he didn’t want it, and that he’d be miserable during it. He tried convincing himself that it would be too loud, and too bawdy, and vain, and that he didn’t need other people’s reassurances that they were happy he was there with them. He told himself he didn’t need it at all, that he was completely fine without it. But it was a lie, so of course it didn’t work.

As the days approached to Loki’s birthday, he became even more withdrawn than usual. With the exceptions of necessary missions or training, he stopped leaving his room. He was silent during travel on the Quinjet, and refused your invitations to further movie nights, even though the disappointment on your face ripped him apart in ways he’d never experienced before.

He felt like he deserved to suffer, to collapse in on himself like a dying star because he knew he’d never be worthy of the love and attention his older brother seemed to collect so effortlessly. It wasn’t Thor’s fault; it was just Loki’s lot in life. And the further he receded, the more likely his heartache would be justified, and he couldn’t be surprised if he was already disappointed.

The evening of his birthday was the worst night he’d experienced in a long time, not since the day he let go of the Bifrost. Loki didn’t even come out of his room for dinner that night, choosing instead to feast on pain, and anguish, and regret, and all the feelings he hadn’t ever had the time to process over his thousand years of existence.

Thor tried several times to lure him out of his room, to no avail. Loki wouldn’t leave - no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t bring himself to witness the fact that they’d done nothing special for him, even though he’d be furiously uncomfortable if they did.

As the hours passed, he tried to distract himself with sleep, and then reading, but neither did the trick. Eventually, he curled up on the window seat of his private quarters, wrapped himself in furs and pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the tiny little mortals going about their nights in blissful ignorance of the god suffering fifty floors above them.

And Loki was so lost that he could barely respond to the cautious knock on his door, the one that threatened to pull him away from his misery. But his heart leapt in his throat when he heard your voice calling his name, and he wanted so much to let you in, to feel you next to him.

But the urge to say something cruel, to push you away and continue on alone, was just as strong. Loki didn’t know which to concede to, even as his feet slowly carried him to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say, even while his fingers raked through his messy curls and rubbed the pain from his eyes.

He felt ridiculous as he hesitated to open the door; he was a God, and once the most fearsome villain this entire planet had ever seen - but here he was, nervous and split open and too raw to simply open a door and look upon a beautiful woman while he was hiding away from his birthday.

There was a soft rustling sound on the other side of the door, and Loki’s forehead rested against the wood as he heard your footsteps quietly retreating down the hallway. He’d waited too long, paralyzed by his self-indulgent indecision, and it had pushed you away.

He thought about yanking the door open and calling after you. He considered begging for you to come back. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around you and to pull you closer, but all he could manage was to gently pull the door open after he was sure you were gone.

On the floor of the hallway, waiting patiently and comfortably for him, was a beautifully-decorated cupcake and a note resting on a small paper plate. A single candle rose out of the emerald and sapphire swirls of frosting, and the pink paper was folded in half, with his name written in the loveliest cursive on the outside.

Loki fought back tears as he retrieved the gift from the floor, and he cautiously balanced the plate in one hand while holding the note in the other.

Hey Loki,

I know birthdays are hard; they’re hard for me too. But hopefully this treat makes you smile, even just for a second.

I’ll be awake for a little while longer - stop by my room if you need to talk. I promise I won’t find it weird :)

XOXO

P.S. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not ready to accept that yet.

He swallowed hard as he stared at the most generous gift he’d ever received. He didn’t know if you even fully understood what you’d just done for him. He fervently wanted to go after you, and he desperately wanted to continue hiding.

But you’d extended an invitation, one he could feasibly take you up on. No one would argue it wasn’t in his right to do so. And Gods above, he wanted to, more than anything else he’d ever wanted. But would it be worth it, or would it just make everything worse?

Loki tore his damp and heavy eyes away from the note and glanced up and down the hallway. He shut his door, just as quietly as he’d opened it, wondering if it would be a mistake to allow his heart guide him to where he’d rather be.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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motelofmermaids · 23 hours

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sex worker reader ♡︎ kurt matheson headcanons (+18)

— this has been marinating in my drafts & i needed to share it with y’all omg. i ♥︎ this so much. i ♥︎ kurt so much. i hope y’all love this too!

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who first saw you standing on the side of the street with three other women—harsh, cold winds making your too-short of a dress flow. you looked so alone, so helpless… nothing like the other women. if anything, you looked like an angel that had fell from the dark and melancholic sky.

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who walked up to you because johnny told him he should. ‘you haven’t had a good fuck in how long?’ johnny asked him, looming behind kurt as his boots dragged against the eroded and dirty streets.

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who noticed the way your eyes stayed downcast once he made it to your small group, assuming that you were probably never first-pick. he noticed the way your eyes lit up when he asked about you, that your eyebrows raised & lips parted in surprise.

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who felt like he understood you. that you should be seen—and not just because of your beauty, no—because you had such a gentle & kind soul. you didn’t seem to judge him, didn’t ask too many questions when he took you home… saw him as a human, not a victim or crazy.

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who let you get comfortable first, offering you something to drink or snack on. he noticed the way you turned your head away to smile, all soft and warm. he noticed the way you looked around, eyes big—curious.

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who wanted to impress you. you were so pretty, so full of life in this godforsaken world—filled with war, coming to an end, and no one was here to stop it. he thought that maybe, just maybe, you were some kind of sign from god that there was still softness. that he could experience something soft and sweet before he was sentenced to eternal imprisonment.

“do you want to see something?” you turn your head, watching him walk across his small living space. opening a door, kurt nods his head towards the thing you can’t quite see, a silent demand to come closer—to look. you tiptoed across the room gently, like a fawn curious of the world. “a bunker?” you ask softly, biting down softly on your plump bottom lip. “don’t be scared,” he starts quietly, his hand hesitating before pressing against your back, featherlight. “i’m sorry… i don’t want to scare you.” and you shake your head quickly, giggling quietly as you take the initiative to climb down the bunker. “it’s cute! spacious. you got a lot of things to keep you busy.” you sit down on the small bed, smiling up at him.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who is hesitant, doesn’t know what to do with himself. with someone so beautiful. his rough, tainted fingers gently trace along your features. he looks down at you as you flutter your eyelashes, leaning in to the feeling.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who thumbs at your bottom lip—loving the sight. the feeling. the thrill that climbs up his back and reaches around to fist his heart. he missed human touch, craved it, wanted to selfishly keep anything familiar close—let johnny haunt him.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who gets on his knees, spreading your legs slowly—allowing him to savor every touch, breath, heartbeat. as if the world wasn’t ending, as if there wasn’t a clock ticking. he let his hands trail all over the fabric, your bare skin. he didn’t want to undress you yet, kurt just needed to feel.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who nearly loses his mind when your breaths start getting short and heavy, when you begin to part your legs further. he finally undresses you, lets your desperately shaky hands claw at his clothes to remove his.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who kisses like he cannot breathe without you. he’s so eager, hands holding your head to keep you close. he kisses you until you can’t think—your thighs pressed tightly against each other because you were so wet. you felt light headed when he finally pulled away, your lips glossed over with shared saliva.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who doesn’t stop at your lips, kissing down your body. he kisses your pretty clit, your folds, your inner thighs. he kisses you until he isn’t, and instead devouring you.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who makes you orgasm multiple times with just his mouth and fingers—and you know he isn’t done, not with the way he looks at you. he leaves you on the verge of tears, your heat glistening with his spit. you twitch and squirm when his beard scruff tickles at your skin. it makes kurt smile. at least he’s taking you in a bunker, your noises becoming humiliatingly loud… fast.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who is big. he’s on top of you, your legs tangled against each other’s bodies. he’s staring down at you, so intensely, as he bottoms out inside your slick & inviting cunt. his lips ghost over your cheek, your forehead, your nose. he’s fucking you with an intense fervor, your eyes glossed over as you look up at him. you grip at any part of him you can, one thigh hiked up to wrap around him.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who doesn’t make much noise. doesn’t talk, but when he moans it’s so mind bending. forces your own, sweet noises out of your mouth. heavy breathing fills the bunker, gasps stolen from one another. it’s almost too much for you. almost.

𝜗𝜚 kurt matheson who doesn’t pull out. he fucks you until he’s left himself weak, weight pressing down on you. it doesn’t matter to you, though. you craved it. you craved the fantasy of being a mom in a beautiful, blue-skied world—the regret itching at you during the final days.

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who cleans you off, your pliant body resting comfortably against the bed—making no effort to toss you money & rush you out of his space.

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who holds you, his fingers gently tracing circles into your shoulder as he keeps you close. he likes the way you smell, love how it’ll stay in the bunker for at least a week. he lets you talk, tell him stories as he tiredly nods, enraptured by every word that leaves your pretty lips.

ᡣ𐭩 kurt matheson who decides that he wants you to stay. wants you to live with him in his bunker—afraid of losing this, of losing you & letting you die the same way he let johnny die. he’s afraid, but he knows how you made him feel… and he finally wants to be selfish. for both your sakes. so he cuts you off mid-story, the question lingering in the post-glow air.

+ you say yes…

#kel’s concepts ♡︎#kurt matheson #kurt matheson x you #kurt matheson x reader #kurt matheson smut #kurt matheson headcanons #did not proofread #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #james kelly smut #james kelly x you #james kelly x reader

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 10 days

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Not Alone

Sam and Dean Winchester & teen!reader (platonic obviously)

Requested by @deansobssessedgirl

Synopsis: the brothers take you in after rescuing you, but after a while the three of you butt heads

You were thirteen when your life ended.

You were thirteen when your life began.

Somehow both statements felt right, despite being polar opposites. The hole left inside you after a werewolf killed both of your parents felt like a life-ending event; the kind you never recover from. But the two hunters that had turned into your big brothers felt like a home that you couldn’t live without; they felt like a new life.

You’d been about to join your parents fate, your heart doomed to be a werewolf’s lunch, when the Winchesters stepped in. A single silver bullet had stopped your parents’ murderer right in his tracks.

But the simplicity of the hunt ended there. The Winchesters were unfazed by the dead monster on the floor, the blood everywhere, and even—to a certain extent—the dead man and woman strewn across their own living room. The boys had seen too many monsters, too much blood, too much death, to be fazed now. But what they hadn’t seen before was this—an orphaned girl covered in blood, the gun that had fired the silver bullet in her hands. She’d been the one to down the werewolf.

The boys had come in guns blazing, of course, but they’d been caught off guard by the presence of two werewolves instead of one. The first one had knocked Sam’s gun from his hands, and was going for Dean’s when Dean downed him. The werewolf had still managed a single lunge in its dying moments, landing itself on top of the older Winchester. Pinned, he could only watch as the werewolf’s mate went for a helpless Sam.

Neither brother had even seen the young teen until she snatched up Sam’s weapon and killed the werewolf with it.

“Thanks, kid,” Sam breathed, still in shock.

“Yeah, you really saved our bacon back there. That…that was really brave,” Dean added.

“They killed my parents.” You didn’t even look at the brothers whose lives you just saved. Your eyes could not be torn from the carnage on your living room floor.

“Hey.” Sam had no idea where the instinct came from—he was the younger brother, and the role of caretaker usually didn’t come naturally to him. But when he saw your haunted eyes glued to your dead parents, he couldn’t help but step in. He pulled you into an embrace, turning you in his arms so that you wouldn’t be able to look at the bodies. “I’m so sorry, kid.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” Sam’s grip tightened on you as you started to sob. He went to look over your shoulder at Dean when he saw it; blood covering your shoulder.

“Kid…did the werewolf bite you?”

“I don’t-don’t know.” You winced when Sam’s fingers pushed your shredded sleeve to the side to get a better look. “It might’ve been his claws.”

“I can’t tell…” Sam mumbled, and Dean suddenly came forward, on high alert.

“I can’t either,” he breathed, looking up to make eye contact with Sam. Their worried gazes alerted you, finally seeming to snap you out of your shock.

“What does that mean?” Your voice was quiet, but it still got the boys’ attention.

“If-if it’s just claw marks, it doesn’t mean anything. But a bite…” Sam struggled to get the words out.

“A bite means that you’re a werewolf now,” Dean said. “Kid, if it bit you, you gotta tell us.”

“I don’t know.” Your tears returned full force as panic set in. “It-it all happened so fast, it could’ve been his claws, or-or…”

“Ok, hey.” Sam had you back in his arms in a moment, shaking his head at Dean and mouthing “later.”

The boys took you back to the bunker that night. You had no family that would miss you, and they had to keep you around until the next full moon, “just in case”.

The full moon came and went, and you never turned.

But you also never left the brothers. Somehow, after that long and stressful night as the full moon hung over the sky, it never crossed any of the trio’s minds to separate. You had no family, and the boys had effortlessly filled the role during that month. Nobody wanted it to end, so they didn’t end it.

Now you were sixteen, and three years had changed you a lot. You were the same fiery girl that shot down that werewolf at thirteen, but now you had the knowledge, training, and experience to be a full-fledged hunter. At least, in your opinion.

The boys thought differently.

“It’s just a ghost, basically a milk run!” You argued for what felt like the hundredth time. “And I can handle it on my own!”

“Oh, like you handled that vamp nest on your own?” Dean scoffed. “Not happening.”

“That was different,” you insisted. “I didn’t know it was going to be a whole nest.”

“Exactly, hunts are unpredictable,” Dean said. “Which is why you don’t go alone.”

”Come on!” You pleaded. “Sam?” You turned to the younger Winchester, who’d been silent up to that point.

“Don’t look at me.” Sam held his hands up. “I want you safe just as much as Dean.”

“I’m not trying to be unsafe,” you said. “I’m trying to help here.”

“You do help here,” Dean said. “And you’ll help even more if you’re not dead.”

“But you guys are already up to your necks researching archangels and knights of hell. I’ve gotta be able to do something!” You said.

“Hey now,” Sam cut in before Dean could continue the argument. “Is that why you wanna do this? You think you don’t do enough around here?”

“I know I don’t,” you huff. “Just let me do this hunt, please.”

“Not without me,” Dean said. “And certainly not on some crap mission to prove yourself. Your family kid, you’ve proven that over and over again. You don’t have to ‘do enough’, and even if you did you already have. Look, you don’t need both of us. Sam can stay here and research, but I’m coming with you on that hunt. Solo hunts just for the sake of solo hunts are stupid, we don’t do that unless it’s a necessity. None of us, not even me or Sam, are gonna go alone unless we have to, and you don’t. It’s not about you being a kid, it’s about being smart, ok?”

You were quiet for a long moment, thinking over everything the brothers had said.

“Ok?” Dean prodded.

“Ok,” you said. You gave him a tiny smile, and he reciprocated it.

“Ok,” Dean affirmed. “Now get your butt in the Impala, we’ve got a ghost to burn.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

#dean winchester #the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #spn sam winchester #dean x you #sam and dean

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 2 years

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The Time of A Coffee

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: It’s only you and Dean for the hunt. Sharing a motel room is not the best, but it’s a must, so you sleep in the same room as Dean for the first time. But Dean is a man of routine, and he cannot function without his coffee. Fed up with how long it takes him, you act like a brat to piss him off, only… Dean has no patience in the morning. Especially when you walk naked in front of him.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Smut, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, overstimulation, masturbation, shower masturbation, use of sex toys, teasing, grumpy Dean

Square: Coffee for @mfbingo

A/n: I got this idea while looking at the gif below... Enjoy! Feedbacks are appreciated!!

It wasn't the first time you went hunting. The world of monsters invaded your life a few years ago, but it was only recently that you moved into the bunker with the Winchesters. It was more convenient to live in the lair where hundreds of pages of information on all the kinds of monsters that existed were located. Besides, it was the most secure place in the world.

It was your first time hunting alone with Dean, though.

The eldest Winchester didn't seem to appreciate your presence in what he called his home, and you never quite understood why. Except for the few times you passed by him in the hallways on your way to a room, the bunker was so big you hardly ever saw him.

Sam was still injured from the last hunt, so Dean flatly refused to take him with him. However, Sam refused to allow Dean to hunt alone. And if his brother couldn't go with him, there was only you left.

“Don’t think I’ll protect you kiddo,” Dean told you the moment you got into the impala. “We’re going together but I work solo.”

Of course, his attitude had frustrated you badly. You just wanted to get it over with. By the time you arrived in the city where the supernatural event was happening and rented a seedy motel room for the two of you, it was already late. It was impossible to begin the investigations until the next morning.

The night passed without incident. Each of you had their own bed and you turned your back on the green-eyed hunter, hoping to find sleep, but the frustration rising inside you throughout the night made sure you wouldn’t get any rest. The incomprehension of his attitude towards you haunted you, why did he have to act like this? Hunting alone was dangerous, that was why Sam always preferred to go in teams of two or three, and if necessary, the person left at the bunker could do research or answer the phone pretending to be an FBI boss. Dean should be grateful you were there and put up with his attitude.

The sun seeping through the half-open curtains was what woke you up the next day. Yawning, you stretched your arms above your head and kicked the blanket out of the way, forgetting for a few seconds where you were and with whom. A growl echoed next to you and it was enough to completely wake you up, bringing with the hoarse sound chills to your lower stomach that you wish you hadn't had. Especially for the man who seemed to hate your presence so much.

Turning your head to the side, you encountered a sight you never thought you'd get the chance to see.

His hair was disheveled on his head. Half-open eyes stared at the ceiling, the light probably strong to his retinas. His large hands rubbed his eyelids, like it could help him see better, and his tongue moistened his dry lips. A new growl echoed the first as he rotated his previously half-sided body so he was fully sprawled on his back. And in this position, the blankets shifted and a tent was formed.

The heat rose to your face so quickly, you thought for a moment the blankets of the bed were still on your body. A hundred degrees crashed down on you and headed directly between your legs, the space growing hotter and hotter as you watched the man lay in bed next to you. Still half asleep, Dean hadn't noticed you waking up. He groaned again, and you hated the effect his hoarse voice had on your body, in addition to the sight of his morning wood unraveling the structure of the blanket.

Dean then moved. Sitting up, he put his legs on the side of the mattress so he was now back to you. Before he got up, you half-closed your eyes to pretend to be asleep but you could still see what was going on. After a few seconds of sitting on the edge of the bed, Dean finally got up.

His walk was very slow, like he was purposely giving you plenty of time to watch the tent in his loose pajama pants rise and fall slightly with each step. You swallowed dryly as you watched him walk to the bathroom, the door closing behind him the last thing you saw. Then the sound of the water being turned on in the shower hit your ears, and you could safely open your eyes.

“God.”

It was your turn to sit up in bed and rub your eyes. A hand in your hair, you stared at your thighs trying to understand what had just happened and why it had had such an effect on you.

"I so need to get laid," you mumbled to yourself as you stood up. You had to go out for some fresh air, it was a pressing need. With the shower occupied, you couldn't wash away those lewd thoughts running through your mind and refresh your feverish body with the help of freezing cold water. But maybe the fresh morning air would help you in this case. Picking up the first clothes you found, you grabbed your wallet and hurried out of the room.

Once outside, you walked to the nearest cafe. A good, strong coffee would be perfect to put your ideas back in place. And a coffee for Dean might make him a little friendlier, who knows? Once you had both drinks, you were about to return to the motel when a sign caught your eye. It was still early, but if you believed the person who had just entered, the store was open.

The feeling of warmth spread once again between your legs. There was no way you would make it without some relief. And it wasn't your fingers that would satisfy you, certainly not with the next few days you had to spend with the source of this discomfort.

Gathering up your courage, you crossed the street and went to the store.

About twenty minutes was all it took you to get two coffees and your little personal present. And yet, when you returned, you were greeted by a gun pointed at your head.

“Where the hell have you been!” Dean exclaimed the moment he recognized you, his gun now pointed to the ground. The hunter growled and walked back into the bedroom, leaving the door open for you to follow.

Fuck, if he could stop growling, maybe the heat would stop soaking your inner thighs!

"I went for coffee," you rolled your eyes as you set the cup holder down on the table. Noticing Dean's back to you, you rush to your bag to put your other purchase in, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But obviously, the hunter had to put his nose everywhere.

“Oh and what’s this you’re hiding?”

"Pads," you jerked your head around, answering his question very quickly. “What, do you prefer I bleed all over your car?” Of course you were lying. Since you took the pill, you no longer had your periods. But menstruation had always put men off and you hoped that was enough for Dean not to go through your things to verify your statements.

“Ew.” Obviously. Dean walked over to the table, totally disinterested in your bag, to grab one of the two coffees.

"That's mine," you rushed to pick up your cup. After a “whatever” perfectly gestured with only his eyebrows, Dean took his drink and went to sit on the edge of his bed to sip it slowly. A sigh of appreciation broke the silence after his first sip, and you didn't think anything could be worse than his growls.

But that sound in any other context sounded dirty. You were lucky to hold your coffee firmly in your hands.

“Alright, so, for the case,” you began as you sat down at the table. The computer Sam had lent you for the hunt was there, so you slid it towards you and opened it. But before you could add anything, out of the corner of your eye you could see Dean raise a hand. Putting your full attention on him, you watched as he pointed to his coffee and then raised his hand again, palm facing you, signaling you to slow down.

Coffee above all.

It was your turn to growl. All you wanted was to finish the hunt as soon as you could, or at least make the day go by as quickly as possible. Chances were Dean would hit the nearest bar in the evening for a beer and a girl or two. And so, you would finally have some alone time with your purchase.

You fucking brought him a coffee. And that was how he thanked you? Besides, now that you thought about it, the hunter never thanked you.

Your frustration grew.

In the end, and much to your dismay, Dean didn't go to the bar that night. No, he decided it was more interesting to spend the evening in the motel room in front of the television with two or three open beers around him. Not only could you not use the object you had bought in the morning, but you also had to endure Dean's presence that only made you feel more warm. The frustration was so intense, it felt like you were about to explode. So, although you had already taken a shower that morning, you went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit.

Once in the safety of the bathroom, you removed your clothes and entered the bathtub. You smiled as you took the detachable shower head in your hands and sat down on the cold ceramic tile. Once the temperature was perfect, you directed the shower head between your thighs.

Your hand pressed against your mouth immediately as pleasure slammed into you from all sides. The frustration of the day was so accumulated in your lower body that you felt yourself twitch around nothing, your pussy begging to be filled as quickly as possible. But both of your hands were busy, one holding the shower head and the other making sure you didn't make any noise, and you didn't trust yourself enough to be quiet.

The thin jet was like hundreds of tiny needles attacking your clit. And if you moved the shower head from left to right, it felt even better. So much pressure built up, you were on the edge of your orgasm continuously. It was burning, building up, over and over, your back arching in the tub as your hips chased the jet like a hungry animal.

It felt so good, so hot, like your pussy was on fire. Everything was on fire, and yet, something was still missing, it wasn't enough to reach your climax. Desperate, and needing it badly, you took the risk. Your hand clasped over your mouth left its post and you hurried, knowing full well that biting your lip wouldn't be enough for long.

Only two fingers were enough. As simple as that. Feeling full was enough for your orgasm to shatter you into little chunks of pleasure and an all too loud moan left your mouth, but as the pleasure lasted, as your body shook and as you saw stars, you didn't care about the sounds you made.

Once your high was over, you had to quickly divert the spray from your now far too sensitive intimacy. It was immediately after that knocking was heard against the door.

“Y/n, you’re okay? I heard you scream!”

Hearing his voice after cumming only brought back that desire and the uncomfortable feeling of being too horny. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you swallowed hard, the thought of getting caught way too exciting for you.

“Yeah! I just slipped and almost fell, that's all!”

You hoped your voice didn't shake while speaking. Because your body was still trembling with the aftermath of your release.

"Clumsy," you heard from the other side of the door, and then footsteps moving away.

Fuck, that was close.

The next day was almost exactly like the day before. You woke up before Dean after a far too realistic dream that left you with an unpleasant aftertaste.

Dream that consisted of Dean ordering you to get off on his thigh. Fuck, you could still feel the material of his pants rubbing your thighs to the point of burning. Needless to say, you woke up with overpowering sexual frustration. And Dean waking up next to you, a new tent in the covers and lots of grunts…

This time, you got up before the hunter. Going past him to get to the bathroom was harder than you thought, the temptation to look in his direction was spellbinding… only a quick glance at this tent, just to see and imagine how big he was… And how perfectly his length would stretch your core, filling you up so much you would cum with only him entering you…

You failed. Near the bathroom door, you glanced at Dean.

The tent was the first thing you looked at. Then, your gaze went up on the body under the blanket until it met green eyes firmly staring back. A half-smile tugged the hunter's lips as you quickly entered the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

Heat exploded in your face.

There was always the possibility of using the shower to relieve yourself a little, like the previous day. But all it took was one sound for Dean to know. And slipping in the shower two days in a row was unlikely to happen to give that as an excuse again.

You just stepped into the shower, your wet hair sticking to your body when you realized you hadn't brought your shampoo with you.

"Damn it," you wrapped a towel around your body and opened the door without thinking. “Forgot my shampoo-”

You never stopped so suddenly. So much that you almost lost your balance.

A new magnificent view was offered to you.

Still lying on his bed and under the covers, Dean was in the middle of… taking care of his morning problem. And even though his gestures were hidden under the blanket, your brain was filling in the holes. The tent was in motion, animated by a hand rising and falling rapidly on the very hard tower. Small moans were in motion all around the room, and surprisingly, despite his irreplaceable hunting instincts, it took several seconds for Dean to notice your presence.

But unlike you, if your presence bothered him, he didn't show it.

“Well, go ahead, take your shampoo,” Dean pointed to your bag with his chin. The tent had stopped moving, but now it was his burning gaze on you that was the problem.

His eyes traveled up and down your body a couple of times, his head tilting to the side as he put himself into a sitting position. Dean didn't speak more, he just watched. That was enough to turn you on so much, if you hadn't been soaked by the shower, drops of water falling around you from your hair, you would have felt your inner thighs completely drenched with your arousal.

He wanted to play this kind of game? Perfect. You were fed up with his attitude and the feelings his presence gave you. You were tired of feeling constantly turned on and ruining your underwear with your arousal. He was about to get a taste of his own medicine.

Walking in front of him, you bore his gaze into yours until you were near your bed. There, you leaned over to access your bag, purposely not bending your knees. The towel was very short and you knew you were flashing Dean enough for him to have a very nice view of your naked intimacy and your asscheeks. Excitement shook your hands as you grabbed what you needed. His gaze burned your skin, so you straightened up and stalked back to the bathroom. Once near the door, you turned back to Dean and with a simple movement of your arm, untied your towel that fell to the floor. But before he could get an eyeful of your naked body, you backed into the bathroom and closed the door.

Your breathing was rapid at what you had just done. You only hoped your little show would leave him in a similar state to yours… Frustrated. Excited.

You were about to celebrate your small victory when a sound echoed from the other side of the door. A sound you knew all too well, that vibration you desperately craved for the past few days

Opening the door abruptly, you immediately froze at seeing Dean right in front of you. He was so close his body heat engulfed your person. Also… There was something pressing against your lower stomach, something you didn't have to look at to know what it was.

“You left your bag open," Dean mumbled in that hoarse voice you loved so much. He raised his hand and in it, you recognized your purchase from the night before. His thumb pushed the button up, then down, the dildo shaking in all directions as it turned on and off.

“Yeah, so? You take so much time drinking your coffee. I have time to cum 3 times before you’re even ready.”

Talking back to Dean while you were completely naked, with him holding your sex toy, clearly as excited as you and with the way he was looking at you like an animal in front of its prey… It probably wasn't the best idea. Dean raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to you again. Now his torso was pressed against your chest, your wet skin leaving dark stains on the gray fabric of his t-shirt. His cock still trapped in his pants pressed against your stomach, a wave of heat attacking you as you felt how hard he was. Raising your head to maintain eye contact, even your breath was lost in the remnants of desire as you gazed into his green eyes.

Feverish was a weak word to describe the way he looked at you.

"Three times, you're sure?" Dean cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah," you replied haughtily, your head tilting the other way. His face was so close your noses brushed and your breaths became one. The excitement was now in full play.

It was heavy. It was hot.

“Let’s see that, shall we?”

You were sure he was about to kiss you, so you closed your eyes. Big mistake. The next moment, you were handcuffed against the headboard of Dean's bed, your arms above your head, his personal smell invading your senses.

But the scent was nothing compared to the sight.

The hunter had captured his prey and was pacing in front of the bed, your dildo in his hands, carefully detailing it as if it were a weapon he intended to use against you.

“Three times. Okay. I'll get the coffee first, just to be fair.” Only his eyes moved as Dean detailed you with a smirk to see your reaction. Then, he knelt on the bed and invited you to open your legs. Hypnotized by his actions, you let him, watching his every move as if he was going to jump on you any moment. “Relax for me please…” Taking a deep breath, you tried to relax as Dean thrusted the toy inside you. As he handled it well with his warm hands, the silicone was no longer cold and entered easily into you. A moan immediately escaped your mouth as the toy burned your entrance, filling you to perfection. Dean pushed the toy into you until the space that meant to be against your clit was in its position.

It was fully inside of you.

You had taken this toy for this reason, precisely. Not only did the dildo vibrate, but the space that rested on your clitoris… had a suction mechanism.

Dean turned the toy on to its lowest setting and immediately, your body tensed up all over. Your head lolled back and moans after moans escaped your mouth, your legs shaking and your arms tugging at the handcuffs. You clenched your thighs, trying to position the toy in the spot that would make you cum immediately, not giving a damn about how desperate you looked.

Opening your eyes, you met Dean's gaze. He was watching again, not saying anything, observing your body's reactions to the toy that was stimulating you, and seeing him looking at you that way… It had the same effect as if you had turned the toy on to its strongest setting. It didn't even have to be positioned at the spot that could make you cum easily.

The orgasm exploded between your thighs in a high pitched, surprised moan.

Your body started shaking and your legs tightened around the toy to be sure it stayed in place. It was so good, you ended completely exhausted and out of breath. Now very sensitive, your clitoris still trembling, you were about to cum again when suddenly, strong hands spread your thighs apart and the buzzing stopped completely.

"That's one and I don't even have my coffee yet," Dean grinned, his eyes fixed on your chest moving up and down quickly, your breasts jiggling with your every breath. "You're already so wet..." Even your inner thighs were sensitive, you noticed when Dean ran one of his hands against that part of your body to see how wet you were.

"Please," you tugged on your handcuffs, wiggling your hips for him to put the toy back on. You had never experienced such a good and powerful orgasm and you wanted more.

“So greedy. That was one. Now, I'm gonna get my coffee. See how many times you can cum again while I drink it.”

And that bastard left you like that. Tied to the bed, naked, still soaking wet from your shower with a toy deep inside you, on the verge of a second orgasm and the promise of more. “Don't leave me here! Winchester!” You yelled at him, but Dean was already gone.

Once alone, you sighed and took the time to understand the situation. Fuck, he was going to watch you get consumed by that toy that had the ability to make you cum in just seconds… And the thought of him watching you turned you on so much, only thinking about it made you throb around the dildo. And if you shifted just a little, you could feel it moving inside you and it felt so good, not enough to make you cum, but enough to satisfy your needs while waiting for Dean to return.

Your eyes were closed when Dean came back, your hips moving in circles to feel something, small moans escaping your lips every time the toy brushed your g spot. You didn't hear the hunter enter, you only knew he was there when the vibrations attacked you again.

A high-pitched scream broke your throat as the sensation washed over you. Your eyes snapped open and you looked at Dean. He had his coffee in his hand, the other between your thighs holding the toy in place inside you.

“Oh fuck, oh God!” Your back arched under the sudden onslaught. And if that wasn't enough, Dean turned up the intensity of the toy. If you hadn't been tied down, you would have reached out to grab something, anything, but all you could do was pull on your cuffs and move around. To try to escape the suction, or to put it in the place that was going to make you explode? You didn’t know. But it was so hot, so good, it was burning, and when you opened your eyes to see what Dean was doing, you could see him sitting on your bed, his cup of coffee in his hands. He was slowly sipping his drink as he watched you writhe with pleasure in his bed, and again...

The fact that he is looking at you made you cum.

“That’s two, and I’m not even halfway through my coffee.”

His hoarse voice made you cum again. Then it was his laugh.

You lost count of how many times you came. Every time you thought it was over, that Dean had finally finished his coffee and was going to take the toy away from you, a new orgasm attacked you. And Dean wasn’t helping by increasing the intensity. Everytime. Until the toy was maxed out.

"Please, please, oh god stop, stop, I can't, I can't!" You were crying now. You were so overstimulated that your orgasms were now torn out from you almost painfully, your body so exhausted you were coming quietly. Each orgasm lasted longer and sent thorns of pleasure for long seconds. Like you were cumming continuously.

"I'm done with my coffee," Dean said, finally turning off the dildo. Your body immediately softened, only small spasms running through your limbs made you moved. Your muscles were so tense it took you a moment to remember how to use them. Dean pulled the dildo out of your entrance and you moaned sadly at the feeling of emptiness. "You're sure you wanted me to stop it? Look at that, the toy is soaked, oh…” you glanced tiredly at Dean to see him place the toy down on the bed and put his attention between your thighs. “Son of a bitch, you soaked my bed, it’s so wet…”

His growl, the one that had gotten you in this situation, rang in your ears again. You came so much you were exhausted, and yet, your hole throbbed at the thought of Dean filling you up. You wanted him to growl against your ear as his cock moved in and out of your abused cunt.

“Please, Dean, please,” you spread your thighs, now too far gone to care what you looked like.

Dean didn't care either, because it only took him a few moments to take off his clothes and be on top of you. You hadn't noticed until now, but the warmth of his body informed you how cold you were. “I got you sweetheart…”

He must have been in as much of a hurry as you, because Dean didn't even wait to enter you. Since he had undressed quickly and you had trouble keeping your eyes open, you could barely get an eyeful of his length. You knew he was big, but yet, it was a surprised moan that escaped your lips as he entered you until he was comfortably settled in your channel. To say he was big was almost too sweet to describe his girth. “God, you’re so wet… Fuck… Oh fuck…”

As you wished, his growls tickled your ear and you clenched around him. It only made him groan louder.

You were both impatient. So immediately after entering you, Dean started moving. It was fast, it was rough, and as soon as Dean untied the handcuffs, your hands went to his back, that you scratched and marked with your nails.

“Oh fuck, do that again,” Dean begged, thrusting slower but deeper. Exhausted from all your orgasms, you moaned lazily and dug your nails into his back. The accumulation of your wetness created obscene and embarrassing sounds, but made his movements so easy that Dean could go any way he liked. As rough, hard or fast as he wanted. And you were taking it all in, constantly feeling yourself on the verge of another orgasm.

But that orgasm was different.

As it was about to hit you head-on, Dean pulled his face back enough to look at you. You gazed into his eyes and time seemed to stop.

It was like after all the stimulation, you finally saw who made you feel this good. It wasn’t only the toy that made you cum. It was seeing him there, seeing him in control.

It was Dean.

You moved your hands to cup his cheek and finally put your lips against his.

It was a rising orgasm. Higher and higher, burning your insides, exploding in small sparks of pleasure and spasms. Moans and grunts mixed together and when you entered your tongue in his mouth to deepen the kiss, you could feel him twitch inside you. Dean buried himself as much as possible, so deep, you could feel his cock brush against your cervix. And despite how wet you were, you felt his seed fill you up.

Once Dean came inside you, you stayed like that for a while, just kissing. The passion in his movements, how he kissed you and touched you after fucking surprised you, you would have thought that was all he wanted, sex, but you weren't complaining and kissed him until you ran out of breath.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped. “You have no idea how bad I wanted this.”

"What?" You stroked his shoulders, not really understanding where he was going with this. You put your confusion on the little high cloud of pleasure you were still floating on. “I… I thought you hated me.”

"I didn't hate you," Dean brushed a lock out of your forehead softly. It had to be the sweetest gesture he had for you since you knew him. “I hated how bad I wanted you all for myself. You seemed so close to Sam, I thought you two were a thing.”

“But Sam is with Eileen,” you frowned with a smile, understanding now why he was always so grumpy whenever you were near him or his brother. “You’re a dumbass, Winchester.”

“I know.” His gaze softened. It was also the first time you saw that side of him. The caring, sweet Dean. “So, how about I help you clean up in the shower? I think you need to cool down… Or warm up… And get clean, even if you’re still wet…”

At the thought of the shower, you clenched around him. Dean didn’t know why, but he was smart, he would figure it out soon enough. “Please.”

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