A/N: One week until I move back into my college dorm! I’m so excited! Today is my last day of work at my summer job, I think I’m gonna miss it a little.
Anyways, I wrote this over the course of a few days. It’s way longer than I was planning, but that seems to be an ongoing theme in my life. Soak up this smut guys, I’m not sure when the next one will come.
Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader
Word count: 4048 (that’s my longest one yet, whoops)
Warnings: Oh boy, here we go… This is probably the most detailed smut I’ve written in a long time. There’s some dirty talk, Reader with a glasses!kink, slight Dom!Reader, slight Dom!Sam, lots of teasing, uhhhhhh there’s a handjob in there too… I think that’s it. It’s pretty loaded when it comes to my writing. Whatever. Enjoy, guys.
“Sam, do you have your…” you trail off, mouth opening slightly as your head angled slightly. “Oh, holy–fuck me.”
In front of you, the usual Adonis that was Sam Winchester had been spruced up more than just a little. His FBI suit was well pressed, completely wrinkle free, and his hair was tamed just perfectly. But the real kicker, something you’d yet to see before, was the pair of glasses sitting on his face.
His eyebrows raise over the top edge of them, and you clear your throat.
“Uhm… I was gonna…” you blink a few times, trying to remember what you were going to say, but for the life of you, you can’t. “I was gonna ask if you had our… Our…”
“Tickets to the play?” he holds up a pair of tickets and you blink once more.
“Yeah,” you nod dumbly, a soft redness peeking through your cheeks. “Yeah, uhm… The tickets. Yeah, sorry. I just… I’ve never seen you in glasses.”
He gives a little smirk, one that lets you know that he’s reveling in your little momentary lapse of thought.
“I’ve only worn them a few times,” he admits, affixing them to the bridge of his nose. “I can tell that you like them, though.”
“Yeah,” you breathe, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. “I do. A lot.”
“How much is a lot, baby girl?” he takes a step closer to you, snaking an arm around your back.
And, oh good God, you absolutely melt with the nickname. You swear your panties will be ruined by the end of this evening, if they aren’t already.
“A lot means that as soon as we get back from this play, I’m jumping you and you’re gonna wear those glasses the entire time,” you tell him, offering him your best flirting smile as you grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him down so that you can kiss him.
He pulls away with that fucking perfect dimpled smile, flashing you a look that tells you that he most certainly likes the sound of your plans.
“We need to get going if we don’t want to be late,” he says, and you sigh softly, smoothing out the front of his jacket. “I’m looking forward to coming back, though.”
“If I hadn’t been looking forward to this for months in advance, we’d be staying in for the evening,” you tell him, watching his little grin grow. “Don’t smirk at me! It’s true!”
“Oh, I know it’s true,” he says. “I’m just wondering how you’ll be able to get through this play when you keep thinking of me through the entire thing. Will you be able to focus?”
“You’re so full of yourself,” you say with a laughing shove to his chest. He bursts into laughter also, taking you hand in his as you both made your way out to Baby.
Dean had loaned her to the two of you for the night, the only stipulation being that she was returned exactly as she was left.
Which, according to Dean, included no stains, no finger-or-footprints on windows, and a suspicious lack of food crumbs.
“I’ve taken pictures of her! You bring her back exactly the same or I’ll kick both of your asses!” Dean calls through the garage as you settle into the passenger seat.
“Dean, we know,” Sam says to his brother, and you just laugh as the both of you leave for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see your favorite playwright in one of his own plays.
It’s about a two hour drive to the theater, and when you get there, Sam chats it up with the ticket registrar while you make a run for the bathroom to pee before the show so that you won’t have to during intermission or, God forbid, during the actual play.
You make it out and see Sam waiting for you, two tickets in hand. You see the silvery coloring to them, and your eyes widen as you look up to his face.
“You didn’t,” you breathe, taking them from him and reading the printed on words. “Row five? You got us row fucking five? How in the actual fuck?”
“Shh, people are looking,” he says with a slight smile. “I told the lady it was your birthday and we’d bought tickets. I asked if I could upgrade them to a better spot and she said that she’s sentimental, and that not even thirty seconds prior a couple had returned theirs saying that they wouldn’t be able to make it to the show.”
“Sam, this is why I fucking love you,” you hug him tightly, taking his hand as you both ventured into the theater.
The play begins shortly thereafter and continues without hitch, and you sigh happily as you lean onto Sam’s shoulder.
He smiles, leaning down to you during intermission.
“So I actually had to tell that woman that I’m an undercover FBI agent that’s looking to catch one of the supporting characters after the play is over in order to get these tickets,” he admits, and your mouth falls open in shock.
“Sam!” you hiss, and he gives you a cheeky grin.
“The glasses really were the finishing touch,” he winks. “I convinced her that they have a camera in them so that if there was a confrontation involved, I would have it documented.”
You bite your lip and look away, trying to stifle the goofy smile that wants to grow on your face. You want to be mad at him for lying, but you just can’t find it in you.
You shake your head and shoot him a glance, your smile only happily growing as you see his face with those perfectly-fitting glasses on.
“What am I going to do with you?” you exhale, shaking you head.
“You said you were gonna jump me once this play was over. I’ve actually been looking forward to it,” he reminds you.
Sam was in such a good mood, so happy, and that made you happy. It’s very rare that you see him get to be this carefree, unworried about the next upcoming apocalypse or some case.
He sneaks his hand into yours and that’s how the two of you stay for the remainder of the play.
Once a standing ovation has been offered, and all of the cast has had their final bows, Sam guides you back to Baby, winking at you as he shut the passenger door for you.
He climbs his long legs into the driver’s seat and off the two of you drive, back to the bunker as it’s already late in the night.
You watch the scenery go by for a while, but you grow bored of that quickly and turn your attention toward Sam.
His broad frame sits with ease, his foot on the pedal keeping it steady just a mile or two over the speed limit. Your eyes trace the curve of his jaw, firm and defined and, God, so gorgeous.
And the glasses. Jesus Christ, those glasses are doing more to you than a plastic frame with two pieces of glass should be capable of.
He glances over out of the corner of his eye, his perfect lips curving upwards a half an inch or so as he noticed your stare.
“You don’t have to stare from so far away, y'know,” he murmurs, and you gnaw on your bottom lip as you unbuckle your seat belt.
You slip across the seat to right beside him, your legs parting just slightly so that you have one on either side of the middle seat hump in the floorboard.
His breath catches slightly as you pull the tight skirt of your dress up, exposing your thighs so that you can move about slightly more.
You smirk, hand resting on his thigh as you laid your head on his shoulder.
“That was really fun,” you tell him, rubbing his thigh slowly and feeling the slightest jump in his pants. “I almost didn’t want it to end.”
“Almost,” he breathes, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.
“Yeah, but then I thought of your gorgeous cock,” you whisper, reaching slightly higher up his leg to rub your palm over the growing bulge in his pants. “And I remembered how you look when you fuck me real hard, and I just imagined that with those glasses and… Ugh, Sam.”
You hum and rub your free hand down the front of your dress, over your breasts, and release a soft sigh.
“Jesus, [Y/N], I would’ve left the theater right then and there if you’d told me that,” he blows a breath out.
“But Sam, you taught me that waiting is always the best part,” you work to undo his belt with one hand, sliding the other up his chest to feel his firm chest muscles under his suit.
His breath shortens, and he shifts his leg so that you have better access to his belt. Finally, you get it undone, and you look up to him with a flutter of lashes.
He looks down at you, those hazel eyes just amplified by the glasses on his face. You exhale softly and undo the buttons on his pants and pull the zipper down slowly, your fingertips just gracing over his pants so that there is barely any pressure.
“[Y/N/N], just…” he trails off with a raw groan as your hand palms his growing length.
“Shh, Sam,” you hush him, finally managing to free him from the confines of his pants and underwear. “Keep those pretty eyes on the road and let me handle the rest.”
“Jesus, baby girl,” he groans as you lean down and press a kiss to the tip of his length.
You take him into your mouth as far as you can go, gliding your tongue across velvety flesh gently. One hand moves to circle the remainder of his endowed length that you can’t fit into your mouth and rubs slowly, torturous circles that you know drives him crazy.
“Fuck, [Y/N],” he pants, his right hand moving from the steering wheel to cup the back of your neck and ease your movements.
You moan softly against him, feeling a rush of wetness between your legs that needs to be satisfied. Your hips rise, searching for friction that isn’t there.
You pull away for a moment, letting your hand fully grip him and pump a few times as you pressed numerous kisses to the bottom side of his cock, feeling it jump when you got to the base of it. Your lips seal around his length once again and your head moves to take him down your throat.
This time you move faster than just the slow movements of before, wet sounds leaving your lips as you sucked.
“[Y/N], I’m almost there,” Sam warns, his breath ragged and his voice absolutely wrecked.
You pull away slowly, noisily, and grin up at him, your eyes catching his.
“Dean said no stains, remember?” you tell him, sitting up fully and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “We’ll have to wait until we get back.”
“We’re almost home, baby girl, and as soon as I get you there, I’m gonna fuck you real slow,” he says in a shaking voice, swallowing once before offering you a dark expression. “Real slow, you’re gonna be on edge for hours, baby girl.”
“Are you gonna make me sore in the morning?” you ask him, biting your bottom lip.
“After what you just did?” he asks, shooting you an incredulous look. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
You can’t help the moan that leaves your lips, watching his eyes darken behind clear glass.
The ensuing silence just radiates sexual tension, and you shift in your seat, trying desperately to search for some kind of relief of the throbbing in your lower belly.
Sam glances over and notices.
“Almost there, [Y/N],” he says quietly as you recognize the road easily.
As he pulls into the garage, you practically shoot from your seat and make a dash for his room, not wanting to wait any longer.
You pass Dean on the way, who is dressed like he would any other day.
“Finally,” he mutters. “I’ve been waiting for you two to get back for over an hour. I’m going to a bar.”
Praise the Lord, you think. A bunker with just Sam for a few hours, that should be fun.
You make it into Sam’s room and start shedding clothes, hearing a slight exchange of words between the brothers as you perch yourself on Sam’s bed.
He comes in after a moment, his eyes falling on you instantly.
His lips quirk upwards in a grin as he closes his door. You lick your lip seductively, chest moving as you took a long inhale of air.
“Are you just gonna stand there?” you ask him in a pouting voice.
“On your back, baby girl,” he says as he begins to undo his jacket. “You know what I want. Show me how wet that pretty pussy is.”
You moan aloud and tip back onto your back, falling onto his pillows. Knees part as his shirt falls to the floor, your hands settling on your thighs.
Being this exposed makes you giddy, makes your heart race in your chest. But it’s Sam, and you know that he won’t look at you with anything other than love and awe.
Finally shed of his upper garments, he kneels down on the bed, just beside your feet, his eyes trailing up your flesh slowly.
“Sam,” you whimper, and his gaze floats to yours. “Please, God, I need you to fuck me.”
He smirks, pressing in close enough to lean down and give a slow kiss to the patch of skin just on the inside of your left knee.
“You know I don’t like being teased, [Y/N],” he says, looking up at you as he moved up a fraction of an inch. “But you teased me, so I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”
“Oh, can’t you tease me after?” you try to bargain, gasping as his teeth bit into your inner thigh, the part he’d just kissed.
“You said it yourself, baby girl. The waiting is the best part,” he reminds you, and you throw your head back onto the pillows as he moves up yet again and kisses.
All you can do is let him do this, there’s no stopping him once he’s set his mind to something like this. A soft whimper leaves your lips as he presses a kiss to the very top of your inner thigh, then a louder gasp as he nips hard at the skin.
“Sam, please,” you hear the desperation in your own voice, and thank God, he finally listens.
His mouth attaches to your clit instantly, and your mouth falls open in a wordless cry as he turns from zero to fifty thousand in a second.
“Oh, fuck, Sam!” you cry, hands shooting to his hair to try to desperately relieve some of the unending pressure on your lower half. “Sam, Jesus!”
He pauses only to look up, his eyes mischievous as they shone through those goddamn glasses that started all of this.
He grins, pressing a single kiss to your belly, slowly inching his way up your chest with a kiss here and a bite there. He moves his whole body over yours, his hands holding his weight on either side of your head.
“Not so fun to be teased, is it?” he asks, nose bumping yours as his hair fell to curtain around your face.
“Sam, please,” you whimper. “Please, just fuck me. God, I can’t take it anymore.”
He smiles, revealing those perfect teeth of his, and presses a hungry kiss to your lips. His mouth is so soft, even with the intensity of it all, and you can just barely taste yourself on him.
He pulls away and starts down your neck, and your hands push through his hair.
“Turn over, baby girl,” he says into your skin, his breath warm on your flesh. He pulls away so that he can undo his pants, and you scramble to turn over like he’s asked, not wanting to draw this out any more.
Hands grip your hips hard and pull you back, your ass hitting his hips and making a loud groan leave your lips.
“You want it now, baby girl?” he asks, a kiss on your shoulder occupying your thoughts as he rutted his hips against yours.
“Yes, God, yes,” you moan, arching into him as he lined up to your entrance.
“Real slow, remember that,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he presses into you, bottoming out and just staying there for a moment. “That feel good, pretty girl?”
“Yeah,” you whimper, reaching a hand back to curl around his neck. “Please move, Sam.”
“I will, [Y/N],” he says, giving a soft kiss to the edge of your jaw. He shifts slightly, sliding an arm around your stomach while the other one moves to scoop your hair up off the back of your neck and drape it over his shoulder, so that all of your back is pressing to his chest.
His hips roll so fucking slowly that you want to cry. You can feel every inch of his length as he slides out, then just as slowly pushes back in.
“Sam, please,” you turn your head and his lips connect with yours messily, and he ups his pace just slightly. You hand tightens its grip on the hair at the nape of his neck.
It’s just so slow, you feel every little movement, every exhaled breath as he pushes in, every little hitch when you press back on his length.
He shifts slightly, instead of being pressed to his back, he moves so that he’s over you, and your face is buried in pillows as he grows a faster rhythm.
You can’t halt the soft sighs that leave your lips with every brush of his skin against yours. His lips find the back of your neck and trail down your spine, warm and soft against your heated skin.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, one hand splaying over your belly as he drove into you over and over again.
“Sam, I need more,” you beg, turning to look over your shoulder at him.
He looks up at you, those eyes dark yet warm, something about him firm and unmoving as he says, “No, baby girl. You’re gonna take what I give you. I said I was gonna go real slow.”
“Then harder, please,” you breathe, biting your bottom lip. “If not faster, then harder, please.”
He gives you a slight smile and presses a kiss to your shoulder as he adjusts once more, his left hand moving up to grip his headboard so that he could give more jarring thrusts while maintaining his tempo.
One thrust in particular hits just perfectly inside you, and you release a soft cry as a gasp fills your lungs.
“Yeah, right there!” you tell him, and his next thrust hits that same spot that makes stars dance across your vision. “Yes, Sam!”
He quickens slightly, jarring that spot every time now, and it doesn’t take long for you to build higher and higher, the best kind of burning filling your lower belly.
“Fuck, Sam!” you gasp, on the cusp of falling apart, when he stops, grinning into your shoulder.
“I told you that you’d be on edge for hours,” he says into your sweaty skin, the amusement not hidden in his voice at all. “You wanted to play this game, baby girl, so I’m playing.”
“Sam,” you whimper, desperate for him to stop all of this and just give you what you need. “Please, please, just make me cum. Please.”
“Not yet, baby girl,” he pulls completely out and turns you over, so that you’re on your back and facing him. He grins down at you. “You’re always so impatient.”
“God, because I want you all the time!” you moan, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Your lips connect with his, hot and seeking and hungry.
A low groan rumbles in his chest, and you arch your hips toward his encouragingly.
“If I make you cum now, it won’t be the last time tonight,” he finally decides to bargain with you.
“Yes, fine,” you agree instantly. “I don’t care, I just need you.”
His lips quirk upwards, and he adjusts his glasses before lining himself up once more and pushing home, a deep, soul reverberating groan parting your lips.
You watch the way his muscles move when he fucks you, the way his abdomen is so tight and his biceps flexing as he held his grip on the headboard.
And then it’s like fire across your entire body, his pounding reaching that spot that has your toes curling and quivering gasps leaving your lips every second.
His name is a chant from your mouth, his eyes holding yours as your mouth fell open, once more on the cusp of falling apart.
This time he doesn’t stop.
He keeps going, his thick length pushing repeatedly until you’re clawing at his back, back arching as an earth-shattering orgasm swept over you.
Six, seven, eight more thrusts and he’s grunting into your neck, his load emptying inside you and dripping down your thighs as he gave a few final lazy thrusts.
With a heavy sigh, he drops down beside you, on his side facing you with a goofy smile on his lips.
“The glasses really did it for you, huh?” he murmurs, reaching up to push some hair out of your face.
“You should wear them more often,” you tell him. “If it will always wind up like tonight, wear them every day.”
“I’m not even done with you yet and you’re already talking about next time,” he tells you, and you flash him a small smile.
“Hey, a girl can dream.”
“[Y/N],” a voice says, and you smile at the sound of it. “[Y/N]! Come on, wake up!”
You blink and open your eyes, and suddenly you’re not in bed with Sam, and you’re most definitely not back at the bunker.
“Where…” you trail off and sit up, seeing both Dean and Sam dressed and ready, wandering about the room and collecting necessary things.
“About time, Sweetheart,” Dean says. “It’s almost time. You need to get ready.”
“Yeah,” you say, blinking as you remembered that you were currently on a hunt with the two boys, looking for a hellhound that was set to collect a sleazy retail banker’s soul. “Yeah, just gimme a sec. I’m already dressed, I just need to put on my boots and find my-”
“Glasses?” Sam’s voice prompts, and you look up to see him holding out your pair of hellhound-seeing glasses, his own pair perched on his face.
“Yeah, thanks,” you tell him, swallowing nervously while hoping that you didn’t say anything in your sleep.
“Okay, in headin’ out to the car. You’ve got two minutes,” Dean says as he gathers up his things. You watch him leave as you pull on your boots.
“Hey,” Sam clears his throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut.
Shit shit shit…
“You look good in glasses,” Sam remarks, and you look up to him in complete awe.
“Holy shit,” you can’t believe what he just said. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, they uh… They frame your face well. It looks good,” he says, and you see the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks.
You swallow and decide to make a bold move.
“I had a dream about us fucking and you were wearing glasses,” you say suddenly, and his eyes widen. “So, I mean, if you’re up for it, I’m definitely game. After this case, I mean.”
You head for the door to leave him to think about your proposition, a tiny smile on your lips as you remembered the dream.
And when you turn to look back at him, he’s grinning that same cheesy smile from your dream.
I resisted and thrived despite it all, like many resilient black people navigating these systems. Self-preservation is not complacency for black people. It’s work. Self-preservation is knowing that I do not need to perform activism for anyone. It recognizes that how I am feeling and hurting is not always up for public consumption, that being quiet and crying and grappling with the ways of this world alone, with my family, and my loved ones are my right. I do not have to justify my need to care for myself, and my communities in the age of Trump, or even react or respond to his every move.
What black people experience and continue to experience is absolutely real. We did not make any of it up. It is not paranoia. This madness does not shock me in the ways it’s shocking white Americans, and I will not feel an ounce of guilt for turning my head away and seeking joy and strength and affirmation elsewhere. I will leave that to white folk to reckon with, to use their shock and outrage to act, to educate, to protest. I won’t spend my limited time and energy doing that work, work that my forebears and my communities have done and continue to do today.
So, I urge you — especially the black and brown, the queer and trans, the undocumented and disabled — to celebrate yourselves and your community. I urge you to prioritize your well-being just as you prioritize your movement work. Dismantling these systems will take lifetimes, and none of us can be useful if we are depleted. Making a difference in the world should not mean disregarding yourself. It is not selfish to care for yourself in a world intent on you not existing.
Adjusting the straps of your lingerie top, you sent Grayson a flirtatious wink and a smile as you strutted off towards the set. Making sure to add an extra sway to your hips, knowing that drove him wild. He tucked his bottom lip under his teeth as he watched you with intent. Cameras were flashing everywhere and you were the main attraction. You were currently posing for your lingerie shoot. Your boyfriend of two years Grayson, of course tagged along. Putting on your most seductive face, you looked towards the camera as the fans they had set up around you blew your hair to the side for a perfect angle. “Y/N, if you could sit down on that chair over there, that’d be a good shot.”
Nodding, you followed the photographers instructions. You sat down on the chair and spread your legs a bit for a sexy pose. While using your index finger to play with your bottom lip, your other hand was messing around with the hem of your black panties. Your hair parted to the side as the lights shined on you. A quick glance in Grayson’s direction left you a bit confused, he looked..angry? His jaw was clenched while both of his eyebrows were furrowed together. One of his large hands covering his crotch area. Smirking, you stood up and bent over the chair, being sure to add an extra arch to your back while doing so. You could tell Grayson was aroused. The way he licked his lips and covered his jeans said it all. “Now, let’s try one topless. You’ll remove the bra and cover up your chest area with one arm.” Sighing to yourself, you nodded. The men in the room turned around and at that moment you were so thankful that your photographer was a female. Removing your bra, you quickly brought an arm up to cover your chest area. Then you looked straight at the camera with a seductive expression. Your eyes trailed towards Grayson whose eyes were darkened with lust. “Y/N, pay attention.” The photographer snapped her fingers in your face and you nodded directing your attention back towards the camera. But you couldn’t help but notice how in the corner of your eye, Grayson stood up from his seat abruptly and walked away. You furrowed your eyebrows but then quickly reset them to normal, knowing it would ruin the photos. You were eager to finish the shoot so you could find as to where Grayson ran off to. So, pulling back on your lingerie top, the photographer dismissed you and the rest of the crew, calling it a wrap. You sighed in relief and made your way to your private dressing room after tugging on a black silk robe. Being a model had it’s perks. You had access to the biggest events and parties and were treated like a celebrity. Your dressing room was styled just how you liked it. Pulling off your robe, you let it glide off your body and hit the floor. Stepping out of it, you walked towards your clothes rack, searching for the clothes you wore when you arrived. A sigh left your lips when you couldn’t find what you were looking for. Then suddenly you froze at the tingly feeling of someone’s warm breath tickling the back of your neck. Shudders erupted throughout your entire body and you felt the familiar grasp of your boyfriends hands on your waist. “Gray-”
“You’re such a tease.” He cut you off. One of his hands sliding down the front of your lingerie. “Posing like that in front of me. In front of all those guys. They were probably enjoying it.” He whispered into the shell of your ear as he slipped a finger into your wet folds. You gasped and grabbed the dresser standing in front of you. Grayson’s other hand massaged your thigh as he pulled out his finger, bringing it back up to his lips. He wrapped them around his finger, sucking your juices off with a hum of satisfaction. You heard the sucking sound in your ear as he moaned. “You taste so good. But daddy’s going to have to punish you for teasing him like that.” Growling in your ear, he spun you around in one swift movement. You held back a gasp as he sat down onto one of the chairs. “Strip.” Was all he said. Nodding, you began to undo the straps of your lingerie top. You tugged it off agonizingly slow as Grayson licked his lips in content. Once your chest was free, you turned around so your ass was facing Grayson. Bending down, you suddenly felt a sharp sting on your ass. Looking back you had seen that Grayson slapped you. You bit your bottom lip as you pulled down your panties, letting them pool at your ankles as you stood upright. “Naughty girl, you know what teasing does to daddy.”
You nodded and licked your lips hungrily as you watched Grayson remove his shirt. He unbuckled his belt and tugged his jeans down. He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. Knowing what he wanted, you got down on your knees, and pulled down his boxers. His large member sprang up, slapping against his abs. You licked your lips at the sight of him in his entirety and wrapped one of your hands around his shaft. Pumping slowly, you let your hot breath fan over his tip. “Don’t tease. You know what happens.”
You nodded and pressed a kiss against the head of his cock before taking him into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head as he threw his head back in pleasure. “Fuck, Y/N.” he groaned as his hands became entangled in your hair. He gently thrusted into your mouth as you pumped what you couldn’t fit. You felt him twitch in your grasp, singling that he was close. Deep-throating him, he found his release into your mouth. The warm liquid gushed down your throat and into your mouth and you swallowed every last bit. “Good girl.” You stood up, and Grayson pulled you into a blistering kiss, his hands squeezing your ass tightly. “Bend over.” He murmured against your lips as he slapped your ass once again. “Grayson, I could get fired.” You whispered. “I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then, baby girl.” And with that, he spun you around. Obliging to his wishes, you spread your legs apart as you grasped the sturdy dresser for support. You felt the tip of his cock poke at your folds and your mouth fell ajar. He shoved himself inside of you and you moaned but then a large hand clasped to your mouth. “Quiet, baby girl.” You nodded and he removed his hand, sliding it back down to your hips. You gnawed on your bottom lip as he began to pound into you. Whimpering slightly, Grayson brought a hand up to smack your ass once again. The sting subsided as he soothingly rubbed his hand against the red imprint. Grayson bit at your shoulder blade as he thrusted into your g-spot repeatedly. A loud moan almost escaped your lips, but luckily was cut off when Grayson attached his lips to yours. Moaning against his mouth, he continued to pound into you at a fast pace, barely giving you a chance to breath. “Fuck.” He groaned and broke the kiss, burying his head in the cranny of your neck as he squeezed your hips harshly. “Grayson.” You moaned out as you felt you climax edging closer. “Come baby, come all over me.” And with that you came, hard. Grayson caught your lips in a searing kiss as your orgasm rippled through you. You shuddered at the intense wave of pleasure and Grayson soon found his own release. Pouring himself inside of you. You both stood there, collecting your breaths and pants as a knock could be heard on the door. “Hurry up in there Y/N.” your assistants voice boomed from the outside of the door and your eyes widened. “Shit..that was hot.” Grayson breathed as he pulled out. “Yes it was. But we need to hurry and get dressed. I cannot be fired all because you got horny during my photoshoot.” You said shoving his clothes into his arms. Grayson gave you a grin as he pulled his shirt on over his head. “Well then next time, don’t be a tease.”
Hello! What are some common misconceptions about keeping hedgehogs?
Oooh, I like this ask, thank you!! I get to talk about one of my favorite subjects! :D This doesn’t quite cover everything (I’m not gonna touch breeding in this post), but these are a lot of the main ones I’ve seen over the years.
Hedgehogs don’t need extra heating - if you’re comfortable in a t-shirt, they’ll be fine!
NOT true. Normal room temperatures or individual comfort zones vary a lot by people. The vast majority of the time, hedgehogs will need a separate heating set up, even just as back up, and some hedgehogs can be very sensitive to fluctuating temperatures. The usual “safe” range given is 73-80F. But a lot of hedgehogs may end up with a hibernation attempt if the temperature falls from 78 during the day to 73 at night. So you have to be careful.
People are also very bad at telling temperature by how it feels - you MUST use a digital thermometer for your hedgehog’s cage.
Even for people who live in warm states like Florida & Texas, it’s often recommended to have a back up heating system, just in case. Hedgehogs can also become more temperature sensitive when they get older or if they’re sick, so it’s good to be prepared.
Hedgehog food for hedgehogs….right?
Hedgehog food is NOT good for hedgehogs - the ingredients are very poor quality in most of them, to the point of causing malnutrition. Good quality cat & dog foods are currently the best commercial option available, though it sounds weird (and vets don’t usually like this).
Hedgehogs don’t really NEED insects.
Hedgehogs are primarily insectivores in the wild. They should have insects in their diet. While they won’t outright die from not having insects if they’re eating a balanced commercial food - which is what we tell new owners panicking over a picky hedgehog on my forum - it’s still a really important part of their diet. Owners should make every effort to incorporate insects as a regular part of the diet, not just treats. This is an excellent post that discusses this more - http://hedgehogsofasgard.com/post/164150669251/hedgehog-nutrition
Awwww, look at that cute hedgie getting a belly rub!!
A lot of people see cute pictures of hedgehogs on the internet where they’re seemingly content on their backs or getting belly rubs or posing with all of their quills flat.These are a single snapshot from a well-socialized hedgehog’s life. Right after that picture was taken, the hedgehog probably started flailing wildly to try & get off their back - a very vulnerable position for a prey animal. Well socialized hedgehogs may let their owner (someone familiar & trusted after months of interaction) rub their belly, pet their face, etc. It takes MONTHSto get to this point though!
Hedgehogs are defensive, shy, easily startled prey animals covered in sharp needles. They are not social, they do not typically seek out interaction or affection, and they do not play like a dog or cat. During the first weeks/months of handling, they will likely quill up easily, curl up in a ball frequently, startle when you make any noise or movement, huff/hiss/pop to try & scare you away, and may even bite. This is really discouraging for new owners and is a common cause of hedgehogs being rehomed in their first year. And a lot of this behavior typically continues even after they’re well socialized - hedgehogs may ball up when first picked up in their cage, or have grumpy days where they refuse to put their quills down, or may always huff & hiss at you a lot. It’s something important to keep in mind before bringing one home.
4 square feet is totally fine for a hedgehog cage.
So this is one we’re currently working on trying to revamp in the US/western hedgie world. The recommendation for some years has been a minimum cage size of 4 square feet. This is too small! This only gives enough room for a wheel, a hide, and food/water bowls. Maybe a tube or ball. This is a sad lack of enrichment for an animal that spends their time in the wild roaming long distances, digging, and searching for insects. The minimum cage size should be 8 square feet. This is the case in many European countries and the US is very much outdated here. Plastic totes are often used as a cheap cage option here, but a lot of people will only use one and it’s just not big enough. If two or more are connected, they can work as a good hedgie home, but this isn’t often the case.
My hedgehog is lonely & needs a friend/mate.
As said above, hedgehogs are NOT social creatures. They do not need or want a friend!! If you want a second hedgehog, get one for YOU, not for your first hedgehog. And keep in mind that you’re doubling your time for socialization - they need to be quarantined for at least 3-4 weeks, even if you get your new one from a breeder. Even after quarantine, you may need to keep socialization separate. Female hedgehogs can often get along enough to share socialization time in a playpen or on their human. But male hedgehogs may fight, so must be VERY carefully watched. And male & female hedgehogs should NEVER be out together! Hedgehogs mate very quickly - never let them be in a playpen or next to each other in the cage or out unless you have breeding quality hedgehogs & you’re fully prepared for babies.
Hedgehogs should also NOT be housed together in 99% of situations. Female hedgehogs can sometimes get along - but you need 8 square feet per hedgehog and a wheel/hide/bowls for each hedgehog in the cage. You will not save on equipment or space by housing hedgehogs together. You WILL increase your risk of hedgehogs injuring each other, sharing illness, & having difficulty telling if one has decreased or stopped eating.
Hedgehogs don’t need much vet care.
Okay, so I haven’t really seen that said outright to my memory. But a lot of people severely underestimate the veterinary needs of hedgehogs and it’s a very important subject. A couple of points to make here. First, hedgehogs are exotic pets - most vets will not see them, you need to locate a hedgehog-experienced vet before bringing one home. Second, make sure your vet has seen hedgehogs. Ask how often they see them, or how long they’ve been seeing hedgehogs. Just because they’re willing to see them, doesn’t mean they know what they’re doing. Try to find one experienced with hedgehogs if at all possible - if you can’t, it’s okay to find one that is willing to & also willing to do the necessary research and work with you to give your hedgehog the best care possible.
And third, hedgehogs are good at racking up vet bills. They really are - common health issues include skin infections, mites, URIs, uterine issues, and cancer. All of these things require vet visits to diagnose & treat. Skin infections can be fungal or bacterial & may need skin cultures to narrow down for treatment. Mites need to be treated with Revolution, which needs to be prescribed by a vet in the US. Do NOT treat mites with Ivermectin - it’s been deadly to hedgehogs in many cases. URIs need to be treated ASAP - they will not go away on their own & can quickly progress to pneumonia, which can be deadly. Female hedgehogs may start showing blood in their urine - sometimes this can be a urinary tract infection, but is often uterine issues that require spaying. And hedgehogs are overwhelmingly prone to developing cancer of various kinds. Some have a better prognosis than others - uterine cancer can often be treated by spaying. Oral cancers are ugly, fast-moving, and cannot be easily removed most of the time.
It’s very important to be prepared for a vet visit at any time. Hedgehogs are prey animals that hide symptoms as long as they can. Once they are showing signs of illness, they need vet care ASAP. It’s recommended to have a vet fund of at least $500 saved up for emergency situations. The more you can save, the better. If you’re in the US, you can also get veterinary insurance through Nationwide, which is currently the only company that offers coverage for exotics. This would be well worth it for hedgehogs - the cost is only about $8/month and can save you hundreds of dollars. Get it early, since pre-existing issues are NOT covered.
You should also plan on wellness visits for your hedgehogs at least once a year. Twice a year is even better, especially if you have a hedgehog that already has a history of health issues (like my Pancake). Wellness visits can catch problems early, before they become harder & more expensive to treat.
Had a dream about you the other night. You taught me how to longboard and then we went back to my place for food and a LOK marathon. And then you started imitating the bending movements and I was super entranced with your muscles. Oh and dying laughing bc you kept saying you were the avatar, master of all elements. Especially girls.
The DRV3 Boys + Fuyuhiko (if it's possible) who finds out their S/O are really ticklish please?
Oh god I’m super ticklish so this is my nightmare. I also wrote for Fuyuhiko as well, though, so that’s fine! Enjoy!~
V3 Boys + Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu Finding Out Their S/O Is Ticklish!
He didn’t mean to tickle you the first time. He also didn’t expect it from you, but the thought of someone else being ticklish doesn’t often cross his mind.
That’s because he’s blessed enough to not be ticklish himself.
He noticed that if he’d make slight movements, you’d sometimes giggle, but this thought didn’t strike him in any specific way.
Until he put two and two together one day and, out of curiosity, tried to find your most ticklist spot. Somehow, he managed to gravitate towards it.
You couldn’t control your laughter and had to put a hand over your mouth. The last thing you wanted to do was be violent towards him.
He smiled a bit, only because he loved hearing your laugh.
But he isn’t going to tickle you all the time. Honestly, the one time he did do it was the only time he purposefully did because he knew you hated it.
He didn’t want to upset his love.
Oh, boy, don’t let this one find out that you’re ticklish.
You kept it a secret because you knew exactly what he’d do if he ever discovered the truth.
Needless to say, you were dead on with your expectations. He found out when actually trying to tickle you, of course, because what else would he be doing?
Your reaction and kicking him repeatedly was a giveaway, and he’d immediately tease you about it.
“Oh?~ (S/O)-Chan is ticklish?~”
He’ll also threaten you with it and even if you do what he says after threatening you, he’ll still sometimes tickle you because he’s a dick.
He loves it though, and he loves making you laugh, even if you hate it. He also uses it against you a lot.
This boy will smile while he does it, too. You want to hate him for it, but you just can’t stay angry with him.
He isn’t ticklish at all. So, you were worried that he’d frustrate you with it all the time.
That didn’t seem to be the case, though.
Finding out your little secret didn’t change a thing with him. He actually often forgot because he’s not the type to torment a ticklish person.
He’s used to teasing his sisters, so he’d much rather tease you in the same way. He was very understanding about your strong dislike of being tickled.
Nevertheless, he’ll be the first to admit that he loves hearing you laugh. It’s his favorite sound in the world.
Normally, he’ll accidentally do it when tracing his fingers along your skin or drawing small designs on your body when you two are relaxing together.
Same routine; you’ll pout, and he’ll apologize. He’ll usually take your hand and kiss the top, repeating that he’s sorry before kissing your cheek or your lips.
He doesn’t want to do anything to upset you on purpose.
Obviously, he isn’t ticklish himself. Can you even tickle robots? Probably not.
With that said, he doesn’t fully understand the concept.
You’ll try to avoid telling him that you’re ticklish yourself, but he’ll try to do so anyway just to see how it works. You’ll burst into laughter, and Kiibo quickly catches on.
He doesn’t get that just because you’re laughing, doesn’t mean you enjoy it. So, he thinks he’s doing a good thing!
This just means he’ll tickle you a lot. The worst part is, you can’t get him back because he’s a robot.
Still, doesn’t understand the appeal. He’ll ask questions like, “Well, if you’re laughing… why are you asking to stop?” And, “If you say stop, why do they keep going sometimes?”
Bless his heart.
If you’re having a bad day, he’ll sneak up and start tickling you to try to make you smile, but after he gets a better grasp on understand it, he slows down and doesn’t do it as much.
His tickles are pure hell though because he can make his body vibrate and hum, which only makes them so much worse.
He’s the type to just flat out ask if you’re ticklish or not, and if you lie and say you aren’t, he’s just going to test it.
He’s going to test it no matter what you say so there’s no loophole for this one.
And when he tickles someone, he goes all out, and it gets intense. No matter how many times you kick and shove him and try to push him away, he always comes back for more.
Often, he’ll bring it up and try to irritate you. To get his way, he sometimes blackmails you with it and say’s he’s going to, but he usually doesn’t.
Well, this is the case until you find out that he’s also ticklish.
Then it’s just an all out war.
Tickle fights all the time, until both of you have tears streaming down your face and your stomachs ache from laughter.
He’ll just try and make up and excuse that he tickled you to make himself feel better about it. Truthfully, he’s just as sensitive as you are when it comes to tickling.
He isn’t extremely ticklish, only in select places. So, the thought fascinates him.
It makes him so curious as to how some humans can laugh at places where others don’t, and why that is. It’s so intriguing.
Personally, he’s only ticklish on the spots he covers. Along his hands and arms, and his face and neck primarily. That’s just because those places don’t get a lot of human contact, so they’re much more sensitive.
Of course, he’s going to test the waters with you.
He won’t be violent with it, though, and go for it. He’ll more so use the tips of his fingers to brush lightly along your skin and try to find all of your spots and places.
He likes to mentally map them out.
But, he won’t use it against you. If anything, he’s just curious. It’s something that makes us human and unique, but he won’t be evil about it.
If you tell him to stop, he does immediately and respects that.
Your laugh is beautiful, though, so a piece of him doesn’t want to stop.
As a child, he never got tickled very often.
So, he likes to do it to you a lot. He finds out on accident, but then he questions it. You have no other choice but to admit that you are.
His face lights up and he seems almost giddy and childlike. Gonta finds it so cute that (S/O) is ticklish! It’s just another thing to love about you!
He’ll surprise you with random tickles.
He’s also the type to not fully understand that laughter isn’t necessarily a good thing in this case, though. So, he doesn’t usually stop right when you tell him to.
Trying to shove him away is no use, either. You kind of just have to endure it.
But, just due to being slightly naive, he’ll also ask you to tickle him as well. That’s when he discovers that he’s also a bit sensitive.
Only under his arms and on the back of his neck, and his stomach.
So, to get him back, you’ll sometimes act like you’re going to scratch him, but tickle him instead and try to pin him down.
He’s very aware of what tickling is, and he isn’t himself, nor are any of his family members or people he’s close to.
He doesn’t get the chance to tickle anyone that often, if ever.
Good thing for you, though, because that just means he has no intention to. You felt comfortable enough to admit that you were ticklish yourself on one of your dates.
Hoshi didn’t really have a reaction to this. You weren’t going to tell him where exactly, so he didn’t mind. He forgot about it, actually.
In a way, he just kind of accepted it. Shrugged his shoulders and noted it only because it was a new quirk about you that he didn’t know before.
But, he isn’t going to tickle you. The only instances where he would is if you were getting on his nerves, which doesn’t happen often.
Your secret is safe with him because he has no intention to tickle you. He just doesn’t see the point in it.
The thought crossed his mind once or twice. His sister was particularly ticklish, so he wondered if you were, too.
Rather than ruining your trust with him, though, and tickling you, he simply asked you if you were one day.
Based on your reaction alone, he already knew the answer.
He wouldn’t do it at first. Not after just learning this new, valuable information. However, he puts it under his disposal and never forgets. He’ll only use it when he needs to.
You’d ask him if he is as well, and he goes right into denial mode.
He’s extremely ticklish, he just won’t admit it. You find out, though, soon enough. You’d purposefully tickled him once, and he threatened that if you didn’t stop, he was just going to do it right back.
That, he did. Tickling each other became commonplace.
@golvio added some very insightful tags to the article I shared about the radicalization of white women for reactionary movements:
#you first notice it with the creepy mommy bloggers like ‘wife with a purpose’
#but there are ways that certain women can benefit from the role of the 'angelic submissive white housewife’ image #that fascism pushes
#i also think that we need to talk about how a lot of radicalized white supremacist women intersect with other movements #that push female docility and prize white motherhood to creepy levels
#like the quiverfull movement or other hyperconservative christian movements that emphasize wifely submission
And this matches right up with an incident I had a few years ago where a post of mine was co-opted by nazi blogs (like. not ‘debatable’ or ‘sympathetic’ blogs, blogs that were loud and proud about it) but then reached the hands of this seemingly unassuming childcare worker in central Australia who had an interest in “traditionalism” and “antiquities.” She was following the nazis and reblogged the post from them. But her background was a gentle pastel and she kept the visible regalia to a minimum.
I wish the experience hadn’t impacted my perspective but it had the effect of making me immediately a little distrustful of a certain shade of ‘soft feminine’ or ‘nurturing’ presentation (ranging from ‘mail order nursery decorating’ to weirdly clinical, like a pediatric wing of a hospital) because of how deeply “female white nationalism” identifies with it. Which of course is a shame because there are many people fighting for their right and comfort to present in femme ways, or for whom a feminine front is a protest against the ideology Nazi Womanhood models: that white cis motherhood is the measure of acceptable femininity.
When you go out into the woods and you look at trees, you see all these different trees. And some of them are bent, and some of them are straight, and some of them are evergreens, and some of them are whatever. And you look at the tree and you allow it. You see why it is the way it is. You sort of understand that it didn’t get enough light, and so it turned that way. And you don’t get all emotional about it. You just allow it. You appreciate the tree. The minute you get near humans, you lose all that. And you are constantly saying, ‘You’re too this, or I’m too this.’ That judging mind comes in. And so I practice turning people into trees. Which means appreciating them just the way they are.
Imagine living in a city where there are no monuments, no buildings from before 1970, no proof that you had grandparents or parents, no history at all. Wouldn’t that make you feel like you were just a passing fad, that you could be blown away like leaves?… for any community to feel substantial and able to change without losing themselves, a history is absolutely crucial.
Emma Donoghue, talking about LGBT history and LGBT historical fiction
I am positive there is many, many more (especially of the art techniques), however because of tags playing up and my blog had a problem with a whole page disappearing, these are the only I could find at the moment. More will certainly be added. You can exoect another post filled with even more art history info! Hopefully all the links work.