Idc, I Headcanon That All The Fictional Men I Simp For Have Breeding Kinks😌

TW⚠️: 18+, sex!!, spit, nekkid

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem!reader

A/N: im touch starved, dont judge me. i just really like spitting & sex and reid so,, // just a lil blurb cause im too lazy to write a whole thing just to justify spencer spitting in someone's mouth 🌚

⚠️ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !! ⚠️

continue reading blow the cut 👀

Spencer didn't know what exactly had drove him to do it. Well, he had an explanation, but he pushed the thought away in less than a millisecond, the haziness of the adrenaline almost blinding him as he felt her swallow his spit, a hand not too gently on her throat as he pounded in her fervently. Her moans had turned into pleas then. Good. She liked it too. He leaned down to kiss her, his tongue diving right in, before pulling away and half opening his heavy eyes and staring at the string connecting their mouths. With a grin on his face, he felt the very last ounce of reason leave him as he pushed two fingers in her mouth, now her tongue caressing his digits the same way she had his dick some minutes ago. Her walls pulsated so fast now. One, two, three thrusts more and wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, him following right after.

thank you!! I tried my best😅💋

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader (actually really happy ab it bc I always wanted to write latina!reader for myself 😊).

Translation Reblog

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another miguel thought has entered my mind but I’m gonna finish my request first and then write this new one

YES YES YES THANK YOU!

honestly so happy that you delivered on my breeding kink ask because this was just perfection!! but also very glad you didn’t crash!! I mean I would’ve probs had the same reaction tho bc I mean breeding is my #1😌

and idc what anyone else says, for sure, without a doubt in my mind, Adrian has a breeding kink

omg he’d want to constantly have you filled and full of him cum or child and the thought makes me go absolutely feral, like insane, foaming at the mouth, screaming and creaming 😩‼️

and trying every single day??? my man is determined, and I’m so glad he is, wouldn’t want it any other way

also dad Adrian??? yes yes yes 100 times yes, he’d be such a good dad, like the best, his kids would be his whole world 😭

anyways thank you for writing this🥰

idk if you talked ab this before but thoughts on Adrian having a breeding kink👀

and another

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns, has a vagina/womb)

rating: e+

word count: 1,813

one-sentence synopsis: ever since you decided to try for another baby, adrian has been determined to make it happen, without pause.

author's note: i'm sorry but i got this message while i was driving and i gasped out loud and almost crashed my fucking car holy fucking shit. i also sent screenshots of this message to a couple of my friends, one of whom said, "of course adrian has a breeding kink. any character you touch automatically gets a breeding kink by osmosis." and then i was like so of course adrian has a breeding kink and let's talk about it. and i started writing a headcanon thread but then i basically started writing fic and now i just wrote a fic. i'm so sorry. i love breeding kink i love pregnancy tropes i'm sick in the head i'm not sorry!!!! (i am sorry for my long-ass author's note though)

read on ao3!

Adrian’s on you the second you’re in the door.

This isn’t a surprise, nor is it unwelcome. You laugh, telling him, “Adrian, I just got home from work, I’m all sweaty—”

“And?” Adrian asks, breath ghosting over your skin as his lips just barely lift from your throat to speak. “What, you want to shower so I can get you sweaty all over again? Waste of water.” With his teeth hovering over your pulse point, he tells you, “Conserve.”

You huff another laugh, breathless this time. Adrian kicks the door shut behind you, twisting to shove you up against it. His hands are already tearing your coat apart, pushing the buttons through their holes with a haste that nearly rips the threads holding them together. He’s already introducing teeth to your throat, his large hands hot where they glide up under your shirt.

This has been your homecoming every day for— weeks now, actually. As soon as the two of you decided to try for another baby, he was determined to try every. Single. Day. Usually, multiple times a day. Sometimes even multiple times a time. He’s told you over and over that he’s intent on giving you as many babies as you want, as many babies as he wants— which is apparently infinite, and you’re drunk enough on him and the way he makes you feel that you’re willing to give him that in return.

Adrian reaches down, scooping you up with his hands tight around your thighs. You hitch up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. You cup his jaw in your hands, pulling his face up to bring him into a bruising kiss.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Adrian breathes, drawing you up and away from the door.

He uses his sheer strength to carry you up the stairs, to your bedroom down the hall, where he nudges the door shut gently and throws you down on the bed. The frame creaks; Adrian reaches up to steady the headboard with one hand gripping the curved top of it.

“Shh,” he shushes the bed before ducking down to kiss you. He uses his grip on the frame to brace himself, dropping to take your lower lip between his teeth for a moment before separating again. He pushes up and off of you, stripping his shirt off over his head in a rush. You honestly don’t know why he bothers wearing as much clothes as he does when this happens every day.

Adrian is desperate to get his hands on you like it’s the first time he’s ever done it, like he’s never going to get to do it again. He gets you bare under him, his hot skin sliding hot over yours, enjoying the rub of his coarse body hair over the friction burns you’ve already gotten from him in the same spots for the same reasons over the last few weeks.

Last few weeks, months, years. He loves to do this to you, with you. His cock is already hard, gliding slick over your thigh, and he reaches between you to find your entrance already wet.

His fingertips dip inside you, his eyes flickering up to meet yours above the rim of his glasses, through the thick fringe of his eyelashes. He grins, says, “You want me to fuck you so bad already, don’t you? Look at you.”

“Yeah,” you tell him, writhing slightly, twisting on your back to push your hips, hoping for more friction from him.

“I want to fuck you so bad, too,” Adrian says, looking down to his fingers slipping inside you. He fucked you before you went to work, and you relax easily around him now. He draws you up, burying his face in your belly, mouthing at your flesh with hot breath and biting teeth and slickness. His fingers fuck into your cunt, and breath punches up out of your lungs, rasping. “Oh, fuck, look at you. I want to— want to fill you up, want to give you my baby, want—”

“Yes,” you breathe, head dipping back into the pillows. He’s twisting his wrist, getting his thumb on your clit so you inhale sharply, hands flying up to grasp desperately at him. You twist your fingers in his hair, your other hand reaching without success towards his elbow, wanting him to push harder, deeper.

“You’re soaked,” Adrian comments with admiration, staring down between your slick thighs. “Fuck. Can I fuck you? Please, can I fuck—”

“Yes,” you tell him, “I want— Go ahead, you can—”

Adrian’s already slipping his fingers out of you, and you’re crying out, wanting to draw him back in. He doesn’t waste time, slotting himself between your legs. He lines his cock up with your hole, pushes into your tight heat like he never wants to be anywhere else.

His head falls forward, burrowing into your chest. You kiss the top of his head, your hands going to his back, gripping his shoulders. Adrian gathers you into his arms, wrapping around to your back, pulling you in close, dragging his mouth up to spread the flat of his tongue over your nipple before he introduces his teeth.

“I wish you were pregnant all the time,” Adrian tells you. “You should never not be pregnant. It’s, like, what you’re made for.” He pushes deeper into you until your hips are flush with his, until he’s pressing so deeply into you that your core is throbbing. He lifts his head, bright eyes meeting yours, sweat smudging his glasses. “God, you don’t know what you fucking look like. You don’t know how you make me feel, knowing that I’m the one doing this to you, that you and I love each other so fucking much—” He lifts his head, bites into another kiss with you. Muffled, his lips to yours, he continues, “—that I just can’t stop fucking— breeding you, that I can’t stop filling you, seeing you like—”

His hand threads up, climbing your side to tangle in your hair, and you fold into him, collapsing like a house of cards. He takes his as his cue to start fucking you in earnest.

He lifts your leg to adjust your angle together, and this new slant gives you friction against it, lets you grind against him until there are sparks rocketing through your core. You grapple for him, and he fits himself into your hands, biting a bruise into the soft underside of your jaw.

You can feel the chaos in the way he moves, his madness, his hunger for you. It’s obvious in everything about him: what he says to you, what he does to you. He never wants you to stop carrying his children; you never want to stop carrying his children. It really is like you were made for each other.

“Oh, fuck,” Adrian bites off into your throat. “Can I— Can—”

“Yes,” you tell him, and he’s losing his rhythm, fucking you with abandon. His hips snap into yours, ferocious in his claiming of you, his determination to take root in you. You can’t help the prick of tears in the backs of your eyes, the burn in your nose, the smile that touches the edges of your lips. This is, you think, one of the best feelings you can feel. There’s very little you’ve found to top it, anyway.

Adrian mumbles your name into your skin, curses and praises and rambled nothings as he drags you over the edge and pulsing into your orgasm. You gasp out, shaking, trembling like you’re collapsing, a dying star inside you. You drag him in closer, unable to release him.

“Please,” you beg him, “please, please, please—”

He gathers your head in his hands and pulls you in for a long kiss, spreading you open, licking behind your teeth. The searing heat of him consumes you as he cums, floods you, fills you.

You’re gasping for breath, clinging to him, as he says, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” kissing along your hairline, smearing sweat along your skin.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to breathe. Adrian’s hand glides down your chest, between your nipples, to settle over your belly. His thumb strokes over your navel, his face dropping to kiss your flushed skin.

“Hey,” you breathe to him. He lifts his head, glasses askew, hair rumpled, waiting for you to speak. “Guess what?”

“Uhh— Is this a rhetorical guess what or a real guess what?” Adrian asks. “You really want me to guess? Because my brain, it’s not working at top—”

“Adrian,” you cut him off. He refocuses on you just as you tell him, “I’m already pregnant.”

For a second, he just blinks. Then, he laughs, surging up to kiss you again, one hand sliding up to grip at your hair. He’s still rooted inside you, and the rough movement jostles you. You bite off a noise into his mouth; he draws back, pressing a soft kiss to the bite he’s left on your lower lip before separating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands. He kisses your cheek, your nose, your lips again, before he says, “Oh, fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes—” He laughs, then delightedly cheers, “Fuck yes!”

“Adrian, be quiet,” you tell him, unable to stop laughing yourself at his obvious joy, at your own corresponding glee. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t get so much as a hi, how are you before you were taking your dick out at the door—”

“I did not hear you complaining at the door,” Adrian says, smiling.

You’re about to respond when there’s a hard bang-bang-bang-bang against your bedroom door, a tiny palm flat against the wood.

“Are you home, Daddy?” your daughter demands from the other side of the door. You don’t know why she asks when she just heard his voice, but it makes you laugh, dropping your head back.

“If the two of you wake up the baby, I’m going to be pissed,” you promise Adrian. He ducks to kiss your cheek again before slipping out of you.

“I got her,” he assures you. “You stay here, you take care of our baby until I can come back and celebrate right—”

You have to shove him off when he ducks down to kiss at your throat again, your daughter slamming on the door, demanding his attention all over again. Sure enough, you can hear the baby start crying in the nursery across the hall.

You grab the pillow from up off the bed beside you, bringing it up over your head and burying your face in it. Adrian ducks to kiss your hip.

“Okay, I promise, I’ll deal with them,” he says. You smile as he drags his face up over your belly. There’s nothing different yet, but he still presses a kiss there, says, “Love you,” and jumps up off the bed.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @pieriinova @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans

relatively alright : marc spector x reader (& steven grant)

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Smut!!! P in v sex, dirty talk, face slapping, daddy kink, choking, light angst at the end, unedited writing because I couldn’t look at this any longer

A/N: Okay two things: One, I’ve written this only seeing the first episode of the series as it’s the only one out, so there could be some inaccuracies if things change later on. Two, if I’ve misrepresented DID in any possible way, please let me know! I’m not an expert. 

You’ve never met Steven before.

Dating Marc, you know about the others. He’s told you about them, at least as much as he can because obviously there are things he doesn’t know himself. He’s conscious of his alters, it’s like he’s sitting shotgun while they front but they’re never conscious of him when he’s the one in control and he thinks it’s the most frustrating shit in the world.

You could meet Steven without giving him a goddamn heart attack if he knew that you were Marc’s. Marc wouldn’t always feel the need to rush you off after too little time together because he gets worried that someone else will take over and he won’t be able to stop it, that you’ll scare them but that most importantly, they’ll scare you.

You’ve told him that won’t happen — you understand that it’s something he has very limited control over. You know that Steven has no memory of what happens when he’s not fronting and of course anyone would be scared if they were just thrown into reality at any given point, never one hundred percent sure what day it is, never sure of the things you’ve done in between your moments of consciousness.

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sweat dripping on our dirty laundry (hangman x reader)

masterlist

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

synopsis: laundry day can suck but less when you and jake fuck!

warnings: 18+ ONLY, explicit sexual activity (fingering, piv, unprotected sex, mild breeding kink, cum play near the end? oops, bad laundry innuendos, pwp)

as always - I love you jordan and may (aka gretagerwigsmuse & seasonsbloom) you both give me life and motivation and break my heart with every fic and then put it back together <3

It’s not like you absolutely despise laundry day - it’s more of a love-hate relationship. On one hand, the serotonin boost from an empty hamper and a full, clean smelling closet is unmatched. On the other hand... you and Jake have way too many clothes put together, and the chore can take almost all day if enough clothes and towels pile up. Normally, you and Jake tackle it together. But he’d just returned from his most recent deployment two days ago, and you wanted to give him a chance to properly rest his body, lounge around the house, let him catch up on the Cowboys’ disaster of a season. 

“Hey Jake?” you call out from the laundry room over the hum of the dryer cycle. You’d left him in the middle of your trashy reality TV session to transfer the lights. “You got anything I can throw in the laundry? I’m doing a load of darks.” 

Silence - you figure he’s probably dozed off and resolve to just go check his hamper after you finish untangling your bras. But a few minutes later, you hear his footsteps approaching the laundry room, stopping in the middle of the doorway. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” he rumbles, voice slightly hoarse, and you feel bad for waking him from his sleep. 

“Oh, nothing,” you reply, finally managing to hook one of the clasps together and slipping it into your lingerie bag. “Just wanted to know if you had any darks I could throw in...” you trail off when you turn to look at him, trying desperately to keep your eyebrows from shooting straight off your face as you appraise the six-foot-something Adonis of a man leaning against the door frame wearing what you can best describe as an expression of mischief, like he’s up to no good, like he’s ready to eat you alive. 

You think it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Bone apple teeth, Jake Seresin. 

Immediately, your eyes catch on the way Jake’s gray sweatpants are slung low on his hips, v-lines especially prominent and a golden happy trail descending below the drawstring knot. Slowly, your gaze shifts upwards to follow the cut lines of his abs, up to the patch of gold hairs on his defined chest, and finally landing on the signature smirk he’s wearing. Jake knows he’s hot, is well aware of the effect he has on you, but it never stops him from trying to catch you off guard and distract you from your responsibilities by showing up in your periphery looking this damn fine. 

It’s why you signed an informal household contract with him a few months back: shirt and pants are required whenever you have to hop on a video call at home. 

While you’ve been shamelessly checking him out, Jake squints. “Are those my boxers?” he asks, eyes drawn to your bottoms as he takes a step forward. 

“They’re comfy!” you defend with a sly smile, turning to add detergent to the washer, feeling all too aware of Jake’s gaze on you. He shifts slightly behind you, and suddenly you feel him right behind you, arms caging you in, erect cock pressed up against your ass, chest flush with your back.

“I’m sure,” he drawls in your ear, sending a shiver cascading down your spine, rippling throughout your nerves. You feel his fingers dance across your hips, and the sweet kiss he presses to your temple is innocent enough, but his hands seem to be acting a bit more shamelessly. His breath hitches when his fingertips start exploring, grazing nothing on your hips underneath his worn pair of boxer shorts. “Don’t you have panties of your own, sweetheart? Bought you that nice lace set you kept pulling up on my phone when I wasn’t looking.” 

“They’re all in the wash,” you hum back, delighting in the feeling of his fingers massaging circles over your hip bones, his hot breath on your ear. 

“Should’ve asked me to help,” he mutters lowly, nuzzling his beard into your neck. 

You finally gather your wits and turn around to face him, leaning your back against the washing machine and looking up at him. His pupils are practically blown out as he smirks down at you appreciatively. “Are you offering?” you ask, almost a whisper, the sound almost lost to the rumble of the dryer next to you. But Jake’s standing real close, can read the words as they form on your lips and he nods once, twice. You glance down at the dark gray sweatpants, gesturing with one hand. 

“Take them off. I need them for this load,” you order, a bit louder now, and the smirk on his face slowly transforms to a wide smile that reaches both his eyes, crinkling his eyes to make your heart swoop. 

“Yes ma’am,” he tells you, finally removing his hands from your waist to shuck off his sweatpants, leaning down to pick them up from where they’ve pooled onto the floor and holding them out to you. But you barely barely notice that - your eyes are drawn to his rock-hard cock that’s flush against his abdomen, tip already red and leaking precum. “But I’ve got the only load you need to worry about.” 

Your steadily climbing lust abruptly stops in its tracks, and you crook an eyebrow as best as you can. “What the fuck, Jake? Are we on fucking Brazzers?” 

Jake bursts out into laughter, leaning in to press his lips to your mouth, and you kiss back as best as you can while maintaining a disapproving pout. “Not if I can help it,” he grits out, still feverishly kissing you like a starved man. “You just make my brain short-circuit, honey. Sometimes I say stupid things.” 

You pull away, narrowing your eyes at the silly boy you’ve fallen in love with, the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, the one who somehow manages to make you hornier than you thought possible whilst also filling you with the desire to club him over the head. “Sometimes?” you hedge, turning around and lifting the lid of the washer and shoving his sweatpants in with the rest of the load. As you spin the dial and close the top, finally starting the cycle, you continue to lecture him “I tell you, Jake, if I had a dime for every stupid thing you said-” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’d probably be able to afford that nice high-efficiency Samsung laundry set you’ve had your eye on. But sweetheart..” Jake's hands return to your waist, this time shoving down the boxer shorts slightly so he can slip his fingers between your legs, grazing one digit over your wet lips. “I keep telling you - God you’re fucking soaked-” and you’re unable to hold back the moan that bubbles out in response to the rasp in his voice, to his tone carrying sheer amazement at your level of arousal. Jake continues: “ - I keep telling you, as soon as the house is done, that’s the first thing I’m buying for you. But I don’t want to buy one now and then lug an old model to the new place. My girl deserves the best. A brand new washer for me to fuck her against in our brand new home.”  

You moan out, partially at the promise but equally at the way his other hand has slipped under your (well, his) t-shirt to grope at your breast, the way his fingers are gathering your wetness. 

“Shit, you’re so wet, darling,” he breathes out, sliding one finger through your folds and crooking it just so, enough for the tip of his finger to graze that sponge-y part of your cunt. You keen in response, grinding your pelvis into his hand and gripping his shoulders tightly for support. A click sounds out, and the spin cycle starts, shaking against Jake’s wrist pressed up against your clit, sending delightful sensations quivering throughout your body. 

Jake repositions his other hand to rest on your lower back; he presses slightly to tilt your pelvis forward into the running machine, into the vibrations, into another tidal wave of pleasure that leaves you shuddering in its wake. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you manage, a gasp leaving your lips as he adds a finger to your cunt and plunges them in and out rhythmically, almost in time with the motion of the cycle at first and then speeding up. You’re sighing out in bliss, unable to keep yourself from grinding down on his hand and pressing your bare ass into his hardened cock, feeling slight wetness on your lower back from a bead precum falling from the tip. 

“God, sweetheart” Jake grunts, pulls his hands out from your cunt and spins you around, then effectively hoists you up onto the machine, lips pressing into your neck as his hands make work of dragging the boxer shorts down your legs. He surges forward to kiss you deeply, slipping his tongue to press in against yours, heavy breaths escaping his mouth as his hands travel to graze his touch all over you. 

For a moment, it’s just you two being horny people, just making out on top of your washing machine almost completely naked, entirely wrapped up in each other, just full of sheer and utter devotion. You pull away to catch your breath, inhaling the scent of sweat and his musky cologne. 

With a smile, you lean your forehead against his.  “You’re gonna make love to me on top of the washer, Jake?” you ask him innocently, bashing your eyelashes and running your hand down his chest, tangling and tugging at his golden hairs teasingly. Jake grunts out at the sensation, reaching down to grab the hem of your t-shirt to pull it up over you. 

“No, sweetheart,” he starts, eyes darting down to appreciate the way your nipples have pebbled in the cool air before sliding his hands down to your hips. In a split second, he pulls you to the edge, grasps his hard length in one hand, guides it into your soaked pussy. “I’m going to fuck you on top of it.” 

And with that, the spin cycle starts up again, and Jake starts drawing his hips in and out slowly, hands resting on the small of your back to hold you in place. And it’s truly fo the best, because the rumble of the washing machine is sending vibrations up throughout your body and the feeling of Jake buying himself into you over and over agains is so overwhelming you fear you may topple over onto your side, hit your head on the cabinet, maybe sustain a concussion. And Jake’s always aware of this, always aware of how easily he can fuck your brainless, make you lose control of your body as a whole as you get lost in the motions of him just pounding you silly - so Jake knows he needs to keep a firm grip on you, which only adds to your pleasure. He’s moaning out your name over the sound of both machines running, pressing soft kisses to your jaw as he holds you up. 

“Not enough,” you murmur, placing one hand on his chest to stop his motions and attempting to pull him out. 

“Hmm?” he asks, slightly dazed as he takes a step back, cock still standing tall and proud and dripping with your wetness. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you turn on your heel and lean both your forearms down on the edge of the washing machine, gripping it tightly and bending over to present your ass to him, arching your back just the way he likes it. By the sound of the strangled groan behind you, it seems like Jake approves. 

“Smart girl,” he says, sending a tiny flutter of pride throughout your chest, and one arm comes to wrap itself around your middle to hold you up, the other hand kneading and squeezing your backside roughly. “Such a pretty, smart girl,” he praises and guides his length back into your warmth, starts to match the pace of the spin cycle again. 

“It’s too much,” you whine out, still backing into him despite yourself and pushing yourself further onto his length. Jake hisses out at your eagerness, and the way your walls flutter around him and the slight tremors in your thighs from trying to hold yourself up. 

He moves his hand from where it’s cupping your ass and slides it around to your front to press into your stomach. His fingers are widely splayed, and with a slight grunt, he lifts, pulling you further onto him. “Hold tight, sweetheart,” he manages, and you grasp at the one neuron that’s still firing commanding signals in your brain, trying to consciously force your fingers to tighten their grip on the edge of the washing machine before Jake’s actions hit you in full force. 

And in full force it hits indeed - he’s pounding into you from the back now - his pelvis smacks loud against your ass and the squelch of your soaked cunt is the most erotic sound and it’s just barely audible over the machines. Your thoughts are interrupted by Jake tugging at your earlobe with his teeth and grunting out the most colorful string of profanities - “Fuck, sweetheart, feel so good wrapped around my cock, so fucking good for me - let me fill you up, let me put a baby in you, get your tits and belly nice and big for me so I can take care of you, never let you lift a finger, fuck, please...” 

“Yeah, Jake,” you breathe out as best as you can, “Fill me up, please, too much, please...” 

And with his chin grazing your shoulder, you can feel him shaking his head furiously. “You first. You first, please, sweet girl, cum for me,” and he’s not so much as commanding you as he is begging, pleading for you to release, to give him the extra push for him to climax. And as he’s swearing out loud and praising you his hand is sliding down from where it was gripping your hip, fingers seeking out your clit to give it the extra flick, the extra strum to bring you close and it’s working, with the way his cock is grazing all the right spots inside of you and his middle finger applying just enough pressure to your apex. 

“Jake, please,” you whine out, and he’s hushing you, pulling his hips back further to completely unsheath himself before slamming back into your cunt with a resounding smack. “I think I’m... oh.” Your orgasm washes over you, sending you cascading 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grits out, not slowing the circles on your clit just yet but gradually decelerating his thrusts, electing to punctuate each press into you with a grind of his hips. “Shit, I’m,” Jake manages out, grunting out your name with an added level of intensity, power - he’s close, you can feel it in the way his grip is tightening around your body and the way his breath is getting so much faster and how his hips are more stilted in their movements. 

“Cum in me, fill me up, Jake,” you coax, clenching your cunt down on his cock repeatedly and trying your best to push back against his thrusts. Jake lets out a strangled cry of your name, slams into you one last time and holds you tight against his body. His cock is shoved inside you as deep as it can go and you can feel every pulse, every throb of his release filling you to the brim. It’s oozing, comforting warmth and you reach a hand back to lock his hips in to feel full, to feel this close to him for that much longer. 

Eventually, his cock starts softening, and he leans down to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Jake,” you whine out as he pulls out, immediately using the last of your strength to squeeze your thighs together to keep his cum from spilling out and leaving another mess for you to clean up in the laundry room. Your muscles feel sluggish, feel like you’re trying to run underwater, feel like you’ve forgotten how to use your limbs. “‘m so tired,” you whisper, and Jake shushes you sweetly, one large hand rubbing circles on your lower back while the other is wrapped around your middle, all but holding you up. 

“Let me take you to bed, honey. Think we’re both due for a nap,” he murmurs and slightly lifts you up from where you’ve almost collapsed against the washing machine. You blearily open your eyes to glance at how much time is remaining for your clothes - “Jake? Can’t nap for too long. Wake me up in twenty?” 

“Sure,” he nods, letting you lean on his arm to lead you out towards your bedroom. 

The first step you take sends a rivulet of cum dripping down the inside of your thigh, and the feeling of the rest of his release slowly trickling out sends another wave of arousal through you, mixed with a twinge of despair at having to clean it up. A pathetic whine manages to escape your lips. 

Jake chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding your hand to lean against the counter. “Stand still for me? I’ll take care of it.” He steps away towards the sink grab a clean washcloth from the stack of towels you neatly folded earlier, running some warm water over it. 

And with a hazy mind, you thank whatever deity, whatever force exists that brought you Jake Seresin - the man who fucks you within an inch of your sanity, who takes care of you like no one else, who wants to spend his forever with you... who’s currently on his knees in front of you, nudging your thighs apart and is starting at how his release has painted your cunt, completely mesmerized. 

“Jesus Christ,” he says in awe, reaching to run a finger through the mess - like he’s ready to fucking fingerpaint with it - before finally lifting up the washcloth to wipe you down, and you shudder at the feeling while simultaneously managing an eye roll. 

Horny bastard. 

-- 

And when you wake up from your nap hours later in a cold sweat with the realization that you most definitely slept through the washer cycle - and that your darks were most certainly going to develop that funky odor - you quickly move to lift yourself out of bed with a sigh. 

A hand on your waist stops you, and you turn to see Jake’s face of anguish in the dim light of the evening - he’s still half-asleep, left cheek pressed up against his arm and golden hair a tousled mess, but he’s still managing a signature pout as best as he can. 

“Don’t go,” he grunts out, pressing his fingers into your hips. You shake your head, even though you know he can’t see you.

“Jake, I’ve gotta move the clothes, they’ll dry weird-” 

“Took care of it already, baby,” he groans out against his bicep, turning slightly so his hand can pull at your arm. “Lights are folded and put away, darks are in the dryer, and I deserve to nap with my girl after fucking her brains out.”

You stifle a laugh, finally giving in and letting yourself fall back into bed, into his awaiting arms, falling back into the man you love. As your drift off to sleep with Jake’s arms wrapped securely around you, a tiny voice wonders if you could manage to convince him to get the quiet washer/dryer set now if you pointed out how clearly he’d be able to hear your sighs and the sound of sex over a cycle. Maybe then you could grow to enjoy laundry days.

realistically, venom could make his dick however long and thick you want it to be. love that for us.

I’M NO ANGEL

[ This piece was inspired by the specific episode I named this after. As always, I found myself deep in my feelings over Castiel and his troubling time as a human. Of course, it developed into something more. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. It’s been a while… ]

Synopsis | Castiel has only begun to learn the trials and tribulations of a human life. Thankfully, he’s managed some help along the way. When he ends up injured and alone, there’s only one place he knows to go.

Tags | Angst, Self Doubt, Supernatural, Human!Reader/Angel, Nurse!Reader, First Time, Innocence, Romance, Fluff, Female!Reader, Castiel being soft, Reader comforting Castiel

Warnings | Talk of injuries, Feelings of Loneliness, Past Trauma, Blood, Torture, Castiel being sad, Self doubt, Angst, Loss of Virginity, Sexual Content

Word Count | 5.2k

Rating | R, minors do not read

Exhaustion had crept its way into your bones. Eyes burning with the desperation of sleep, reaching a point of deprivation you hadn’t known existed. Perhaps you’d pushed yourself too hard. Work made for a distraction and the last few months had been… interesting to say the least. You craved normalcy, anything to rid yourself of the crippling paranoia. To your dismay, time at the hospital seemed to only multiply your stress. Not to mention the endless stream of phone calls. A voice message, always in a familiar voice, left on the answering machine at home. You had two guesses — Dean or Sam Winchester. That in itself seemed to be the only highlight of every long, agonizingly slow day. To know you had someone thinking of you.

You rummaged through your locker, packing up your belongings into a small duffel bag. Strands of your pulled back hair now framed your face. The zipper was the only means to break the silence. Left alone, as you’d taken up the night shift through most of the week. Your feet ached and that pain had radiated up your sore calves. A nice bath would do you good and the very thought gave you more incentive to quicken the pace.

Taking your keys into your grasp, you slung the strap over your shoulder and made your way out of the locker room. You passed the station, bidding goodnight to the other nurses. Your smile fading quickly once hidden behind the closed doors of the elevator. You leaned against the wall, your head dipping backwards. Easily, you allowed your eyes to fall closed.

Your scream echoed through the abandoned warehouse, a cry of agony which had left your throat hoarse. Another hour of this hell and you’d surely have no voice left to beg with. Alastair wouldn’t have that though. He wanted to hear every last shriek, moan, and wail that left your cracked lips. You were bare, stripped naked and if that wasn’t mortifying enough—being strapped down and displayed to him made you wish to perish from the earth alone.

“Please! Oh, god! Please!” You cried. He twisted the knife brutally, digging into your flesh. You’d already passed out a handful of times, only for him to awaken you once more and begin the process again.

“You’re a tricky one to find, Y/N.” He sang, all the while continuing his work. Your sobs went unnoticed by the demon. The utter joy on his face made you nauseous. You squeezed your eyes shut, another loud cry echoed against the walls. You jerked against your restraints and prayed to anyone, anything, to make the horrendous torture end. To your surprise, Alastair did stop, but only briefly. You laid your head back against the cold table. Your heart pounding in your ears, head swimming, and your throat desperate for water. He touched your head and began to coo at you, to which you turned your head away in disgust. He leaned further down, his hot breath touching your ear. You shuddered, flinching away with what strength you had.

“You belong with us…” He hissed his words, like the serpent he was, sent straight from hell.

Ironically enough, you harshly bit down. Jerking your head to look at him. Gathering the blood in your mouth, you spat at him. “Go to hell.”

This commenced his wicked abuse, carving you and using you for all it was worth. The room was spinning again. All you could do was plead and beg, hoping to either be saved or succumb to your injuries.

Death had never tasted so sweet.

By the time Sam and Dean discovered you, Alastair disappeared. Leaving you in a mess of your own blood. Your consciousness was wavering, as your head lolled to the side. You barely even noticed the hands that were making quick work to undo the straps, which held your body down.

“She needs medical attention. Immediately.” Castiel’s voice sounded, full of urgency and authority.

“Cas?” You called out in disbelief. Was it really over? Your head turned to discover his ocean eyes peering down at you with visible concern. He gave a grave expression, perusal.

His strong, lithe hands delicately lifted you from the metal table. Dean aided him, while doing his best to remain respectful. It wouldn’t have mattered, as you were too far gone into shock to care whether or not everything was on display. Cas had shed out of his trenchcoat almost immediately. You felt the coat drape around your shoulders, as he pulled it tightly around you. Thus giving you more decency. With that, he lifted you into his arms. Your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your hands limp in your lap.

“You’re safe now.” He mumbled. His tone rumbling in his chest, vibrating against your burning face. This only confirmed his presence not to be that of a dream, but reality.

The elevator seemed to move deliberately slow, at the expense of your aching feet. When the doors slid open again, you pushed off the wall and exited. The fluorescent bulbs above you ceased to burden your vision, as you found yourself swallowed into the night of the city. Your chaos of the day being left behind, as you trudged your way across the pavement of the parking lot. With a few clicks on the unlock button, you located your car by the flashing head and rear lights. Your bag was the first thing to go, left behind in the backseat.

“Y/N…” A familiar voice addressed you. Gravely yet monotone.

If it hadn’t been your support on the open door of your vehicle, you believed you might have fallen back. Your hand clutched at your chest, your keys rattling in your grasp.

“Jesus Christ!” You exclaimed.

Castiel’s blue eyes were piercing. He possessed such sadness and disorientation, or perhaps that was guilt. Either way, he looked like a wounded animal. A kicked dog, wandering the streets. His usual attire was in disarray. His trenchcoat was missing, his tie gone and his white shirt mangled and torn. The fabric stained with blood and his face was evident of a scuffle, with a cut to his cheek bone and one above his left brow. Once you had taken in his wrecked state, you moved around your open door and moved toward him.

“Cas…” You breathed, as you began to truly examine him. Checking for any serious injuries right away. “What happened?” You asked, concern clear in your tone and forming in the expression on your face.

You tilted your head up at the Angel. Castiel shook his head, before looking off at nothing in particular.

“I’m not sure where I’d even begin.” He admitted with weariness. “Dean...” Cas parted his lips, but the words wouldn’t come. Or at least they seemed too painful to reveal.

“What about Dean?” You questioned, your brow knitted together. You were desperate for any sort of answer now. To know what the hell was going on.

“Can we… Discuss this somewhere more, appropriate?” He asked.

You were reluctant not to grill him, but you were far too tired yourself to even begin to think about arguing. A simple nod was all you managed, before motioning for him to get into the car. Cas rounded the front of the Toyota, as you proceeded to slip behind the wheel.

The drive was silent, as Cas seemed to be pondering something, clearly weighing heavy over him. This seemed unusual for him, not to mention his battered state. At least unusual in a way that this always meant something was wrong. You’d been around the Angel long enough to know when he was troubled. You wondered if Dean and Sam had seen him first. Had they turned him away? What was going on?

Every now and then Castiel’s blue oceans would slowly drift over in your direction. He’d study your profile until it caused you to look over, only to find him facing forward once more. You sighed softly and broke the silence.

“How badly are you injured?” You asked, deciding this would be a good place to start. Or, at least, his condition should be a priority.

You owed him.

“Nothing I haven't handled before.” He mumbled, sure of himself, his voice rumbling in his chest, but his doubt lingered beneath the surface. The way he looked out the window only confirmed his words weren’t so truthful. Cas appeared like a child again, watching the scenery drift by in a haze as you drove on. Your will to carry the conversation had subsided and you let the two of you commence in silence. Though it wasn’t awkward, your worry continued to grow all the way to the sight of your house.

Upon pulling into the driveway, Cas was the first to move out of your car. Your eyes followed his figure and they widened when he nearly collapsed. His hands gripped the top of the door and he grunted lowly. You hurried from your seat, delayed by your seatbelt, and ran around the sedan to reach him.

“Cas!” His name fell from your lips in a panicked tone. You reached for him and to your surprise, he didn’t argue to handle himself. In fact, Cas seemed to welcome your touch and your comfort.

“Are you alright?” You asked, with the same amount of urgency. He nodded. “Just…” He panted. “Just help me get inside.” He mumbled.

You nodded and pulled his arm around your shoulders. Cas did his best to support most of his weight, not wishing to hurt you. The last thing he wanted was to ask for your help, but he had nowhere else to go. No one he could rely on at this point. You were the only one he had left.

With little trial and error, you managed to settle Cas on the sofa. He sunk down against the soft cushions and proceeded to lay his head back, his eyes closing.

“I’ll be right back.” You murmured, after having stared at him for longer than you should have.

Sure he was a mess, but he still managed to stir something inside of you with that vessel of his.

While he rested, you went back to your car and retrieved what you needed. You took time to yourself in the kitchen and prepared tea, as well as medical supplies to treat him. You chewed your lip, while letting the tea bag steep in the boiling liquid. None of it had made any sense. Castiel was an Angel after all. Maybe he had become weak and his wounds were taking longer than normal to heal?

A timer buzzed on your phone, causing you to jump and return to reality from your thoughts. You pulled the bag from the mug and dropped it into the trash. Grabbing your kit and the tea, you headed back for the living room and found him the same as he’d been.

He heard movement and lifted his head, his eyes opening to land on your face as you sat yourself beside him.

“Let me look?” You asked, gently, as you persuaded with a kind smile. Cas nodded and shifted, a wince of pain flashing over his expression. He began to unbutton his shirt, what was left of it anyway, and revealed the gash at his abdomen. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before, but it needed to be treated and stitched.

“Oh, Cas…” You breathed with a disappointed tone. “What happened to you?” Your brows knitted together, as your gaze lifted with anticipation. Ready for answers.

You opened your supplies and dug around for a moment, until finding what you needed first.

“I suppose I’m being punished.” Castiel began, as you got to work on cleaning him up. You glanced up. “For what?” You quizzed, continuing to watch him as he looked shameful with his head turned that way.

“Well, with all things considered, I’m useless without my Grace.” He went on. “My mistake for trusting the wrong people.” He muttered, as if scolding himself. “All I wanted to do… Was to help you, and Sam… and Dean.” Finally, he looked at you.

Castiel looked as if he was to cry and you stalled in your movements, your eyes locked for what felt like eternity.

“Now… I can’t do anything. And Dean doesn’t care if I live or die.”

“Don’t say that. Of course he does.” You argued.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me…” He defended his accusation.

You swallowed thickly.

“You know how he is.” You reminded. “Everything is… so strange right now. What happened, anyway?" You tried to get some sort of an explanation, again.

Your eyes were back on his stomach, tending to his wound.

“Why did you leave?” He suddenly asked then, shifting the subject to you. That made your posture change. Guilt seemed to chew it’s way through your stomach, as his blue eyes bore into you. As if he was searching for an answer he would like to hear.

“After what happened with Alistair…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain yourself. To defend yourself? Not that you needed to, but it almost felt like you had abandoned Cas when he needed you most.

Despite his bond with Dean, you seemed to be the only one to understand him. You’d shared so many quiet moments and unspoken words, you now had a bond of your own.

“I needed some time.” You admitted. “It became too much and I needed some normalcy. I thought I was going to go crazy, especially with Sam and Dean fighting like they always do, but it started to feel different.” You explained further for him, but it felt nice to release it. To tell the truth and to someone who you knew was actually listening. Not to mention the way Cas looked at you. As if every word was like a precious gift to him.

“We needed you. I needed you.” Those three words were enough to make your heart sink.

You kept focus on the stitching and that familiar silence began to blanket the two of you. You were thankful for it, because you weren't exactly up for an intervention.

After dressing his wound, you handed over the steaming tea to him, which should have cooled to drinking temperature by now. He didn’t question, as he took what you gave him. Along with something for the pain.

“Now you know my pain.” You joked, with a little chuckle.

“I can assure you, my experience as a human has humbled me.” He acknowledged with a usual, Castiel-pondering-expression.

You smiled, as you began to wipe your hands.

“But I’ve also never felt more alone.” He added, before setting the mug back down. He looked so sad then. His puppy face returning and seizing your heart with despair.

“Castiel, you’re not alone.” You reminded him, as you reached out and touched his hand. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to your small hand in comparison to his own. He turned his over, allowing you to slip your palm against his rough one. His fingers closed around your hand and he squeezed gently.

He looked at you, with a fondness and a tender hesitation. “I feel like you’re the only one who knows me.”

Your lips parted, not sure what to say. Instead, you smiled and forced down the tears that pricked. He shifted then and you took some time to process that he was, in fact, moving closer. Inch by inch. Your heart began to pick up its pace. Your cheeks warm with expectation.

Without realizing, you had gripped his hand more tightly. Cas didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps he didn’t even notice. His breath fanned over your lips, waiting for some sign that you approved. That this was okay. It was innocent, but it made your heart melt nonetheless.

So naturally it unfolded. His lips practically molding to your own, your head slightly tilting to fit yours to his. A moment you dreamed of, coming to life and setting you alight from the inside out. His head tilted, refusing to break away as Cas discovered the softness of your lips, his first kiss, and the way you tasted. It was almost… heavenly. Yes, it was indeed divine in its own right. How could he believe you’d be anything less?

The slowness of his actions was agonizing, leaving you craving more and somehow, you needed it this way. For someone to love you with the utmost care and patience.

When Cas broke away, he was speechless. As were you. Never once had your hands released each other.

“Was… was that okay?” He stumbled, nervousness overtaking him.

All you could do was nod. You rose from your position, taking his hand with you and encouraging him to stand. Castiel did just that and followed you willingly. Something inside of you screamed to pull back while you had the chance. To save yourself from the possible heartbreak this would cause, but none of that mattered. Not now.

You guided him up the staircase and down the hall. Your bedroom door was open.

Turning back to face him, you dropped his hand and began to undress. You tossed your work scrubs aside, a pile beside your feet, and were left in a simple matching black set. They weren’t lacy, rather bland but Cas didn’t appear to care with the way his eyes grew a bit wider.

You stepped forward and pushed his torn dress shirt off his shoulders, as the fabric fell behind him. He kept his gaze on you, lips slightly agape. Your fingertips slowly traced over his collarbones and down his chest. Your hands sliding over his biceps. A shaky breath released from you, as you admired him. Human or Angel, Castiel would always make you feel this way.

“Do you want this?” You asked him, already sure of yourself, but knowing he might not wish to go this far. Not yet or maybe never.

“I do.” He answered, clearly and without any pause.

You were surprised, stilling your movements for just a second, but resumed undressing him. Your fingers worked open his belt and Cas seemed to grow impatient without your lips. His fingers lifted your chin, as he crashed his lips back over yours. This elicited a moan from you, your mouth opening and allowing his tongue to explore you. His fingers tangled into your hair.

Left in his underwear, you pulled him over to the bed, but he was quicker than you. Gently, with what strength he had left, he laid you back. The warmth of his chest pressed to yours. Effortlessly, your lips found his again. You hummed and tangled your fingers into his dark, tangled hair. Something that only he seemed to pull off.

His lips were as soft and supple as you imagined, maybe even more if that was possible.

“I’m not sure how to do this…” He mumbled, his head having fallen beside yours. His breath blew hot against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You held him close, as if he’d disappear.

His naivety made you chuckle. His purity was endearing, of course. You didn’t mind that he was clueless. The night was yours to waste.

“It’s okay. I’ll show you.” You whispered, lifting his face in your soft, lithe hands. He leaned into your touch. A gentle smile tugging the corners of his lips.

“Can I take these off?” He asked you. Such a gentleman. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time a man had been so thoughtful to what you might want. You nodded and moved to help him, but he was insistent on doing so himself. He struggled for a moment, his fingers working their best to unhook your godforsaken garment.

This caused you to giggle softly. His mouth twitched in response. You lifted your hips eagerly when he reached your panties, as he slid them down your legs. He seemed to enjoy this the most, as he discarded your underwear and returned to feel up your lithe legs.

He gently guided them open and lowered his head between your thighs. You sat up, your hands pushing his shoulders. He looked confused now.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” You answered quickly, almost cutting him off.

“You just— You don’t have to.” You muttered, your nerves getting the best of you.

“But I want to.” Castiel responded. “If you’ll let me. I want all of you.” He nearly begged. You couldn’t argue with him now, not when he looked at you that way and spoke to you with such urgency to please. It made you tingle in all the right places.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” You asked, swallowing thickly when his lips pressed softly to your inner thighs.

“No, but I won’t stop until I get it right.” He smirked.

This amazed you, as half the men you’d met couldn’t be bothered to get you off. Their needs mattered first. Castiel, an Angel and an A class virgin was determined to make you scream.

He promptly shut your brain off with a slow lick between your folds. Tasting you, more out of curiosity first. Cas never took his eyes off of you, licking certain ways to see how your face would change. Then he found your clit and that was enough to get him riled up. It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen, besides your natural face of course. And the way you sang his name like a prayer. Oh, he’d answer it every time just to hear you say it like that.

“Ohh, Castiel…” You were breathless, panting in new octaves he’d never heard. Your whines like sweet music as his tongue circled that perfect spot. He paid special attention to it, sucking your clit a little harder than before. Your back arched at that, your thighs closing around his head but he didn’t seem to mind. Your fingers found his raven hair again, pulling tightly and forcing him closer to your dripping sex.

His arm wrapped around your thigh, his thumb rubbing your clit and this time his tongue pushed inside of you.

“Fuck… fuck.. Just like that!” You yelled. “Oh, you’re doing so good.” You praised him and that bubbled something in him. He didn’t know how good it felt to be commended, especially from you. For too long he’d been the bad guy. Unable to do anything right. His chest swelled with pride, as he ate you with such desire and passion, it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m gonna… Oh, God Castiel!” Was the only thing you managed, as a blinding orgasm crashed over you. Your legs shook, toes curling at his back, and hands pulling at the sheets.

“I’m not entirely sure what God has to do with this.”

You weren’t sure if he was mocking you or being entirely serious. And with him, either could be possible. The answer to your question didn’t matter. Gaining your composure, you pulled Castiel to you. Happy to taste what you left on his lips, the arousal he created and the climax he pulled from you.

“And where does an Angel of the Lord learn that?” You asked, brow raised and a laugh threatening.

“The pizza man, of course.” He said with a sheepish smile.

Your head tossed back with a laugh and Castiel took the opportunity to attack your throat. His lips desperate to cover every inch of you, latching onto anything he could easily access. You sighed with pleasure, your hands pushing down his briefs and he kicked them away. Never would he have thought to engage in such sinful acts, but being human had given him depth to a new sense of needs and desires. One of them being you.

He laid on top of you again, but you rolled and he did most of the work when he realized what you wanted. He sat up, chasing your lips as you came to sit in his lap. His velvety cock brushed your thigh and you gasped softly at his hardness. It didn’t prepare you for when you actually looked down to discover his length.

“Are you ready?” You asked him, holding the back of his head with steady hands.

You shared loving glances. Full of sincerity and a deep crave none of you could explain by words. Castiel kissed you for confirmation. Strong and unyielding. It was all you needed.

You lifted your hips, supporting yourself on his shoulders. Taking the base of his cock, larger than you anticipated, you slowly began to take him. Despite the slick of your first orgasm, his tip alone was stretching you. You moaned and Castiel was already making sweet noises to you. It made your cheeks burn, to know you were the reason. The one taking his innocence. That alone was incredibly hot to you.

“Please, more.” He begged, his hands laying flat to your back. Drawing you into him.

“I know, I know. Just give me a moment.” You sighed weakly and kissed him gently, slowly taking more of him.

“Am I hurting you?” He suddenly asked, worry all over his face.

“I’m okay. It’s okay. It will go away.” You assured him quickly.

Cas didn’t seem to believe you, but when you finally seated yourself, he was too lost to care. Your walls squeezed him and created a sensation he never knew existed.

Your fingers found home in his locks again, his face nestled between your breasts. For a moment you stayed like this, his cock filling you to the hilt. The pain was still present, but you couldn’t take staying like this any longer.

More. You needed more.

Slowly, your hips rocked forward and it almost felt out of your control.

“Ohh, I never knew…” Castiel whispered to you. His voice raspy and low. Just another reason to make you throb.

You smiled, as your hips lifted and lowered again. It was sedate but intimate. The way he held you was nothing short of romantic and the way his cock hit all the right places—you were in pure bliss.

You whined with each new roll of your hips and Cas did his best to help, being beneath you. His lips kissed over your chest and collar bone, as he worked back up your neck. He took special care to the sensitive areas he’d picked up on. You mewled, as he took the time to hold you. To become one with you.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He admitted, his voice weak and following a grunt.

“I know.” You whispered, a moan falling from your lips. “Me too.” Your eyes closed and he promised himself to remember you like this forever. Wrapped in his arms and enraptured by what he could give. Only him.

His emotions overtook him, compelled by his will to continuously please you. Once more, he turned and your eyes shot open as you found yourself underneath him. This new angle allowed him to control the pace and fill you in a completely new way. Your legs moved, instinctively, to wrap around him and draw him deeper into you.

He found your hands, tangling your fingers together, and pushing them down into the mattress above your head.

Your jaw fell slack as he began a steady pace of thrusting. So deliberate and calculated, claiming you entirely. Castiel was making love to you. Being thorough in the way his cock dragged against your walls. As if he was trying to touch every last inch. So you would remember what it felt like later.

“I’d give it all up.” He groaned. “To be with you.”

Between his fucking and those sweet words, it was enough to feel the sting of tears. Happy as you were, you felt so overwhelmed as your second orgasm began to blossom. His words could have been meaningless. Sex had a way of making people confess such beautiful lies, but you wanted to believe him. And you did.

“Cas… Cas! Please, don’t ever stop.” You cried.

“Never.” He growled.

He captured your lips and you cried with such joy, you didn’t even recognize yourself. How had an Angel turned you into such… mush?

You didn’t care, that’s not what mattered. Castiel had been the only thing to come into your life and make it something worth living. All the darkness that had once swallowed you, Cas was the guiding light. Even if it was doomed to fail, you helplessly held onto anything that was left.

Cas wanted this to last an eternity. He could spend forever wrapped up in these sheets. Buried in you so deliciously and making you come over and over again. A new addiction he was beginning to discover. Your fingers dug into his hand, and he ignored the sharp pang of your nails. He drove deeper and deeper, his tip hitting that perfect, spongy spot inside of you. As much as he wanted to last, Castiel felt that was impossible.

“Castiel, yes! Oh, please!” You cried out and he had no choice but to give you what you needed. Feeling it come on so strong, now that you’d come around him. Your walls fluttering and pulsing so perfectly. Roughly, he jerked his hips.

“I think I’m going—“ Cas stammered, a little unsure with this strange new feeling. “Yes, baby. Come for me.” You encouraged. How could he deny you when you said it like that? A moan was lost on your ears, as you kissed him hungrily, and he filled you. And it was then he felt he just might melt. You smiled against his lips, until he nearly collapsed on top of you.

Your eyes fell shut, listening to Castiel’s soft pants. Basking in the afterglow of your second orgasm, you smiled widely. He lifted his head just in time to catch you this way. Licking his lips briefly.

“So… beautiful…” He murmured, barely above a whisper.

More minutes had passed, which turned into an hour. Castiel now residing beside you, as you found yourself curled up at his side and your head on his chest. You listened to his slow and steady heartbeat. Such a simplicity and yet, you enjoyed the domesticity of it all. As if you could picture yourself living this life with him. Your white picket fence and no interference from any outside, or supernatural forces. Your past wouldn’t exist. Free to be yourself with him.

Something about your 'eternal damnation' made you want to fall in love with him more. To defy everything that it was, in your nature, not to be with him. Rather amusing, you thought to yourself... the demon-blood drinker and the Angel. Neither of you had forgotten the hell that was your life merely a few months ago. Nor how you had been the cause for most of the suffering. If it hadn't been for your shame of making poor choices, breaking promises, and ruining trust - you would've had the courage to pick up the phone and call Dean, or answer when he did for that matter.

“I hope I haven’t overstayed my welcome.” Cas spoke. His distinctive voice brought you from your trance of self loathing.

You shifted with a sigh and chuckled. “You can stay as long as you need to.” You responded honestly. “Besides, we wouldn’t have made it this far had you overstayed your welcome.” You teased him.

“And… I did okay?” He asked suddenly, his expression shifting to that of anxiety and uncertainty.

“Yes. It was perfect.” You put his worries to rest, before planting a soft kiss to his chest. Your lips traveled, trailing more traces of affection until you reached his lips.

“Good.” He sighed with relief, grinning wide.

“So… Now that you’re human. What are you going to do?” You asked. Wondering if he had some sort of plan to reverse his fate or if he intended to play out this ride.

“I’m not sure, but…” He reached for you and pulled you closer. “All I care about right now is you.” He confessed, rolling over. You moved with him, like pieces of a puzzle, and wrapped an arm around his neck. Your lips pressed firmly together.

Surely fate had other plans, but today was yours to have.

I need him to bite me NOW…for scientific reasons

For Science

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: There has been a rumour circulating in regards to Miguel’s venom. It has to be too far-fetched, right?

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’hara x spider-woman!reader

𓂅 𓄹 Warnings: 18+!!! Fangs. Venom!play (is that a thing?).

You eyed Jessica Drew with utmost interest as she worked her way around Miguel’s surveillance station, easily dragging files in and out of the multiple screens.

“Why do you get access to his stuff and I don’t?” you asked as sudden jealousy crept in.

“We go way back,” she started, pulling some information to her watch. “You’ll get there in time…”

Your ego soared.

“… if you don’t keep annoying him.”

It immediately plummeted.

“He’s easy to piss off,” you beamed. “And I’m easily entertained. What can I say? Match made in heaven.”

She chuckled at your antics. “Just don’t get yourself expelled.”

You nodded and waved your hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. So have you heard that rumour about him?”

Jessica finished setting up her watch and mission logs and threw you a suspicious look.

“Well… the one that says his venom does more than causing paralysis,” you wiggled your eyebrows, letting the not so subtle implication dangle.

“You know what? One day Miguel is going to kick you out and I won’t do anything about it.”

“What? I didn’t come up with this!”

It was absolutely true. You hard heard it from some spiders one night while strolling throught the lobby. Rumours came and went. No one thought much of them and these were just harmless fun.

“Well, I’m not commenting on this.”

“Fine! But it’s fascinating.”

Jessica sighed, rotated on her feet and went down the stairs. “You can go ask Miguel, then.”

“Ask Miguel what?”

You froze in place as spider-man 2099 entered the dark room, eying both of you.

“Oh, I’m out,” Jessica snorted, heading towards the exit. “You two have fun.”

Miguel kept his gaze on your and you waved a hand at him.

He frowned.

“Lyla, reroute all the main sectors to earth-1610,” he said, pressing on his dimensional travel watch. “Any possibility of a canon event being disrupted must be reported to Jessica.”

The AI appeared next to him and adjusted her heart-shaped glassed up the bridge of her nose. “Is she tagging along, too?” she pointed at you.

He shook his head. “Not a chance. She’s more useful here.”

“Hey!” you were about to protest, but decided against it.

You knew there was a compliment in there somewhere. Your past missions had not gone without some minor bumps, which was why it had been decided the previous day that you’d tag along Miguel for a couple of weeks to hone your off-field abilities.

“Anything major must be reported to me.”

Jessica nodded but Lyla was not so easily dismissed. “I didn’t hear you say iiit.”

Miguel rolled his eyes. “Thank you for your services as always, Lyla.”

She took a dramatic bow and vanished.

He took large steps towards the platform, greeting you with a curt nod.

How would you describe your relationship with Miguel O’hara? Tense? On the verse of collapse each time you teased him? Friendly? But only when you didn’t have to spend more than one hour together.

“Morning to you, too, boss,” you saluted.

He let out an exasperated sigh as he checked the screens in front of him.

Maybe you should go easy on him. You were already on thin ice, but just adored pushing him. There was something about teasing him that just did wonders to you.

“Did you sleep well? Did you get some food?”

“Don’t start getting on my nerves.”

You raised both hands, feigning a look of innocence. “I did nothing. You’re paranoid.”

His head turned to you.

“You do have an issue obeying the chain of command. Your last mission was a disaster, because you got into an argument with Peter instead of focusing on the anomaly — don’t interrupt me!” he said pinching the bridge of his nose as your were about to defend yourself. “You have much to offer, but you’re also all over the place and lack discipline. I don’t think you—”

You gave him a jaw-popping yawn which effectively cut him off.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I boring you?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You do know that I was pressured by others to let go of you.”

A long pause stretched out.

“Then why didn’t you?”

In your mind, you had hoped your growing friendship with him had played a part, but…

“You have potential,” he said with a sigh. “One day you might even be better than me.”

Well, that was a high praise and your spine snapped straight instantly. “Really?”

“Maybe… probably not,” he concluded. “But if you keep your focus and work hard, you will be a very skilled spider.”

You rolled your eyes. “Woah, thanks a bunch!”

In truth, you knew Miguel was trying his best to smooth over your bruised ego, but your pride got the best of you.

“Any questions you have, just let me know,” he said reassuringly while glancing at the screens in front of him.

“I can ask anything?”

“Yes.”

“Sooo… have you heard that rumour about your venom?”

It was too early in the day to be so serious, so you genuinely saw no harm in lightening the mood.

He threw you a side glance. “Be specific.”

“Well… that it can cause extreme pleasure,” you blurted out. “Oh, besides the paralysis thingy,” you quickly added.

Miguel turned to fully face you. “I don’t even want to know where that came from.”

Deep down, you felt a pang of disappointment. It would be such an interesting finding.

“Ah, so it’s not true.”

“Probably not.”

That piqued your interest. “Probably? So there’s a chance? It’s just so fascinating, because you’re already so different from the rest of us,” you started rambling not able to hold back your enthusiasm. “Now this is just an added layer!”

You were a scientist at heart and Miguel was pretty much an outlier when it came to being a spider-man. For months you had been trying to let him agree to you running some tests, but to no avail.

In all honesty, Miguel knew his way around science and the inner workings of biology better than you could ever, so he had no reason to indulge your curiosity.

“How do you do it? Is it the same venom or a different one?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Science, remember?”

It was a half truth, though. Yes, this would be mind-blowing science-wise, but this was also about Miguel O’hara. The very man who had been guiding you through spider society for months. The same men who whose genius and dedication had built the foundations of the spider society.

He now had both hands on his hips and you figured you were already pushing it too far, but enjoyed doing it too much to stop now.

“Can you just tell me how it works? Please?” You clasped your hands together into a beg, hoping it would be enough to bait him for information.

But Miguel remained unfazed.

“No.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” you offered expectantly.

He didn’t budge.

“Please, pretty please?” you tried once again.

Nothing.

“I’ll bring you empanadas every single day from now on,” you enthused. “On demand! Whenever you have those cravings. Two in the morning? Check! Canon event disrupted and universes imploding? Check!”

Miguel quirked an eyebrow. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Is that a yes?”

“No.”

“Just show me how it works,” you sounded desperate by now. Arguing with Miguel ranked high up with the likes of trying to move a boulder with a wooden fork. “How did you get it to work?”

His eyes to widened slightly. “Show you?” he started out. “Are you asking me to pleasure you?”

Now that was probably on your top three of ‘Things you never expect Miguel O’hara to say’.

“Oh — I mean… well… what?” you stammered, caught by surprise. “I didn’t — you know… huh…”

He only glared at your babbling self.

“Are you… offering?”

Miguel extended his arm to you. “Give me your hand.”

You panicked. “What? Now?”

“For science, right?”

Point taken.

You hesitated momentarily. “You’re not going to paralyse me, right?”

“Do you want me to?”

You offered your hand for him to grip, flipping it palm up. “No.”

“Then I won’t.”

Miguel’s voice was so flat he could just be reading items off a grocery list.

His gloved fingers traced the heel of your palm and his eyes darted down. You held your breath at the sight of him lowering his head. “This might sting.”

And just like that, you watched in complete awe as Miguel O’hara bared his fangs, slowly raking them across your skin before digging into the flesh.

“Ouch!”

Your stomach turned and your heart fluttered as his warm lips grazed the spot he had just bitten. Two circular and symmetrical openings pooled with a tiny amount if blood.

“So? Do you feel a wave of intense carnal bliss?” Miguel asked, straightening up and brushing the droplets away with his thumb.

You merely stood there, waiting for something — anything — to kick in. But as tense seconds ticked by, it was evident nothing was happening.

“No…”

He shrugged, letting go of your hand to tap his watch. “Ah, well. My pleasuring abilities must be below par this morning.”

You scowled at him and considered smashing his arm with a fist. “You could have just said it was all a lie!” you grunted in sheer annoyance, feeling like an idiot. “Now I’m bleeding to death.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You’re annoying,” you huffed as you checked the bite marks.

“It’s not a lie. I can indeed inject an innocuous version of my venom that can be quite pleasurable,” he said.

“Then do it!” you said, your temper flaring.

Miguel wasn’t one to take orders. He was much more into being the one to call the shots, but your curiosity was eating you alive now that he had revealed that this rumour had some truth to it.

He was now looming over you, his impressive height adding to the tension. “It depends on where I inject the venom. Certain places are more effective,” his voice was uncharacteristicly low as his eyes landed on your neck. “This is just scientific curiosity, right?”

Your mouth had gone too dry to reply, so you just shrugged. Miguel had you taking a few steps back until your lower back hit the railing that lined the platform, causing your hands to clasp around it reflexively.

“Tilt your head.”

You did as you were told and felt his fingers tracing along your jaw, angling you just the way he wanted.

“Hold on tight,” he said, breath now fanning the prickling skin of your neck. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

Feeling your face heat up from the sudden close proximity, you closed your eyes as if embracing for impact. He pressed his lips to your pulse point before digging his fangs slowly into you.

Your mouth dropped open, aghast, and you finally felt it. His venom poured from the fangs and into your bloodstream, spreading through your veins like wildfire. At first, it was just merely a pleasant sensation, like the one you’d get as you finally drank water after a hot day in the sun.

But it soon turned into something else, and unlike water, the new overwhelming feeling was leaving you thirstier with each thump of your racing heart.

Miguel had his hand on the back of your neck, keeping you in place. He moaned first — no, he grunted —, and you felt a jolt of almost painful pleasure shot down your spine and spread between your thighs.

Your grip on the metal surface wavered momentarily and you feared you might fall, but were firmly grounded by his other hand on your waist. It didn’t take long until your clit started throbbing in unison with your heartbeat.

“Miguel… this… this…”

Suddenly, your suit felt too tight and in the way, especially once he pressed lightly into you.

The venom was no longer being injected, but the remnants of it were enough to wreak havoc throughout your body.

“It’s just for science…” he growled, pulling his fangs away from you. “Does it feel good?”

You didn’t dare open your eyes and could only gasp when you felt him push his erection into you.

“Yeah… science… or whatever…” you gasped, feeling yourself being pushed over the edge with each second that passed.

Just when you thought your orgasm would hit you slowly, Miguel tilted your head to the side, exposing the intact skin.

You gripped his wrist as if holding on for dear life, fearing you’d explode. “Again?”

“Your body is neutralising my venom too fast,” he rumbled, lips hovering a sensitive spot. “I need to inject more.”

“Miguel…” you nearly cried out at the thought of your heart no being able to handle the intense pleasure.

“Look at me.”

Your breathing evened briefly as you did as commanded, his red eyes fixed on yours, pupils fully blown.

“Think you can be a good girl for me?”

You blinked.

“I know you can take more.”

Your clit was now throbbing at an alarming rate at the promise of more of him.

Miguel flashed you his blood-tipped fangs before sinking them into you once again.

The liquid traveled through your body so fast, you felt like someone had punched the air out of your lungs. You vaguely wondered if you would die from this, and concluded that there were worse ways to go.

Being on the receiving end of Miguel’ dry humps would be enough to make anyone tip over the edge, let alone with the added layer of venom engulfing you into an explosive orgasm.

Your vision blurred in an instant as spams and contractions swept through your body. The friction of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit had you arch your back into him, feeling the bittersweet realisation that you were clamping around nothing. You weren’t sure if this was his venom’s doing, but you felt an overwhelming part of you wishing he had been inside you.

It hurt.

It hurt so good and lasted for so long, you like crying from the overwhelming tide of pleasure.

Miguel gave you time to ride out your orgasm, pressing a bloodied kiss to your lips, swallowing your cries.

Metallic taste filled your mouth and you broke away from him, gasping for air.

Your eyes landed on his crotch.

He was hard. Painfully hard. A faint stain of precum seeping through the material of his suit.

“You okay?”

You bent over, hands on your knees and laboured breaths.

“Are you?” you managed in between gasps.

Miguel crouched to eye-level with you. “I think you owe me one.”

“Yeah…” you nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks for the… scientific… huh… demonstration.”

no bc that Andy + pussy eating hc... maybe I'm having thots!!! MAYBE I'M THINKING HE STARTS GRIDNING JNTO THE SHEETS EATING YOU OUT AND CUMS WHILE EATING YOU OUT?! AND HES SENSITIVE AS SHIT BUT AS LONG AS IT TAKES YOU TO CUM HES GONNA KEEP GRINDING ND EVEN MAYBE GETS HARD AGAIN? MOANING AND WHINING INTO YOUR PUSSY BC HES SEBSITIVE AND YOURE GETTING CLOSER?? I-

maybe just maybe andy's hooked his arms around you, making sure to keep you locked to his mouth; his beard burns against your slippery inner thighs, but it only adds to the heightened, sensitive pleasure you're experiencing in that moment

and maybe you're too wrapped up in the feeling of his mouth on you...that you fail to notice his slow grind into the bed

you fail to register him whining into your folds as a side effect of his leaking cock ruining the sheets beneath him

the desperation to have you flood his tongue again is manifesting in him rutting into the bed, keeping your pussy spread so that it's easy for him to spit on your aching heat before diving back in like a man starved

honestly, you're going to wish that you captured this moment: andy between your legs, eating you like it's his final wish as he makes a mess of himself and the bedspread