#Or sweet and fumbly/anxious

[squeeb-art]

This meme except I get to choose the characters to smash my art block. Fun game, tell me what you think what I’m like (for better or for worse) based on these guys.

Friend-endorsed: "I don't know nausicaa or roxy but the rest are very accurate i think"

[bbokicidal]

First Time's The Charm? Pt. 2 | OT8 [SKZ]

Notes : This was a Drabble request someone sent in, so it's short, to the point, and simple. Hope you enjoy! Genre : Smut Warnings : 18+ Content Req : Having sex with SKZ for the first time <- Except it's not just your first time together, it's their first time period.

Chris :

So gentle, so sweet. So kind. Keeps his hands off of you at first because he's scared he might push or pull you, so he keeps them fisted in the sheets as he finds comfort in your gummy walls. He's melting against you and trembling as he holds himself up, his chest just barely brushing yours each time he draws his hips back all shaky-like. He eases into it shortly after it all begins, but then stiffens up a bit again when he realizes he might be getting too comfortable with how rough he's getting. You know, with the headboard knocking against the wall and all.

Minho :

Asks you to ride him because he's unsure of how to go about all of it. Afraid he might embarrass himself and look stupid - but he ends up all red in the ears and neck anyway because of how pretty you look in his lap. He has to fight to keep his legs against the mattress when you slide down on his cock, wanting to push up and do something as well. But you find a nice balance in the way you bounce and the way he rocks his hips so carefully; Enough to keep it soft and gentle for his first time but still able to rock his world.

Changbin :

Acts like he knows what he's doing - fumbles when his cock stretches you so much that you ask him to prep you more. He's embarrassed, feels like he messed up somehow, so he needs the reassurance for a while that he was doing perfectly fine - and he's surprised to see that you're a little shy about it all. Of course he'll question you on why you're all red and meek, and when you explain that he did everything right - he's just so big - his confidence comes flooding back tenfold and he's smirking to himself with a downturned smile shortly after. After that? You wouldn't even be able to tell he's a newbie with how cocky he gets.

Hyunjin :

So romantic. Gets eighty thousand candles, decorates the room with them, lights them all - dims the lamps, turns on soft music, sprinkles the floor with rose petals and welcomes you home from work with slow kisses and lingering touches. He can tell you're surprised with the setup - with the way he undresses you so carefully and lets his fingertips trace every inch of your exposed skin. Another one you really wouldn't be able to tell is new to it all. But it also makes you wonder - just how is he so smooth with it?

Jisung :

Fumbles. so bad. Man is anxious, but excited, and it's getting the best of him. He knocks his elbow into the nightstand when he takes his shirt off and ends up whimpering in laughter at the stinging waves of pain, then moves hair out of your face while kissing you and accidentally gets some of it in his mouth. He's doing his best, and even if he's very clearly shy about it and having a hard time keeping up with himself - you can't help but find him extremely cute. (He cums in his pants just seeing you naked.)

Felix :

Gets ahead of himself while gaming and receiving head. He's already in shambles with you on your knees between his thighs, arms wrapped around his waist while ringed fingers click at his LED keyboard In attempt to play support; But he needs more. So he gently pulls you up by the back of your neck, guiding you into a kiss before asking that you take off your PJ shorts and give him a little more encouragement in other ways. (Kind of has a frat-boy tone while asking it but ends up giggling and covering his face with his hands when you do strip for him. Shy about it - but also a cocky mf. Love him fr.)

Seungmin :

So.. romantic?? So so romantic?? Not like Hyunjin-level romantic; But romantic in the sense that he caresses every inch of your body, cups your face in his hands while you kiss, and tries to make sure he's always touching you in some way. He can't keep his hands off of you even while just making out, peeling clothes from your body and dipping long fingers between your thighs to feel over the slick dripping from your slit. Also cannot stop kissing you. Knows where your clit is. Makes that very known. (He's done his research.)

Jeongin :

Feel like my instinct is to say 'He's super hesitant' but I don't think he is. Jeongin seems like the type of guy to know what he wants. He's the type to suck a hickey or two into your skin and keep biting you until you ask what he's up to. He's too shy to actually say 'I want to have sex' for the first time, so he just takes control of the situation in a gentle-dom manner; Climbing over you, sandwiching you between his body and the couch, kissing you until your lips are bruised and swollen. He's the type to drag it out for hours and there's so much foreplay but also so much sex. Also asks you right after it's over if you can use toys next time.

Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

[metranart]

“I can still smell her on you, you jerk.” Dabi snickered, caressing the skin of Hawk's collarbone with his scarred palm. There was an impregnate smell there... something sweet, like lingering flowers— Fairly quickly, he realized that the smell was originally and undoubtedly, YOURS.

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Dabi x Hawks, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader (in future chaps)

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 13)

-

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

Keigo didn't protest, didn’t even let a sound leave his throat despite the pain his body was in. He just allowed the villain to explore his mouth, his pierced tongue felt amazingly good as it danced fiercely against his bare tongue.

Dabi’s hands went down to grip his lower back and brought their bodies closer together. Keigo braced himself against his chest, babbling when the fire-user wasted no time and pressed his face into his jaw, licking, kissing, teasing him with teeth.

“What nonsense are you babbling, pigeon?” Dabi’s breathing was so raggedly it pained his own lungs. Hawks mumbled again.

“Louder-” the Todoroki commanded against the shell of his ear, almost like a whisper: an angry, desperate, hissing whisper. “—What’s that?”

“(Y/N).” The Hero was calling for you to Dabi’s amazement, it sounded so desperate and needy. “Baby bird, I want-I want my sweet girl-…. please~”

“You are sicker than I remembered,” Dabi sneered between kisses. "Or you already forgot, birdbrains?”

Keigo shifted under him. “Forget what?”

As he moved back to his neck, Dabi snickered gluing his face against the skin of Keigo’s neck to inhale sharply through his nose, and the remaining of your sweet scent stirred a diabolic frenzy in his gut.

“You assaulted this girl-....” he reminded him, “now calling her yours doesn't make it true—” 

“I—" Keigo choked on his next words, and soon felt Dabi’s hands fumbling with his belt, nimbly undoing it to then zip down his pants. 

“When you spread her thighs apart for you, well-” his large hand reached into his trousers pulling out his erect cock to caress it between his fingers, fascinated with the way the Blond's cheeks bloomed with heat. “-I really doubt she appreciated it as much as you did.”

“She understood! she did—… I couldn't control myself-... my rut response, she turned it on-… and” Hawks was growing anxious, and that send an energetic heat up Dabi’s spine. It was too easy to play with Keigo’s hormonal mind, especially when he was rutting so bad to have you, back. Doubt crawled over his skin.

“I can still smell her on you, you jerk.” Dabi said, caressing the skin of his collarbone with his scarred hand.

There was an impregnate smell when he took shallow breaths into his skin... something sweet, like lingering flowers, or fragrant incense— Fairly quickly, he realized that the smell was originally and undoubtedly, yours.

Dabi glared at him in puzzled amusement, as if the fact that your scent was so strong, and he could still smell it now, was outrageous. “—Did you even had the courtesy to pull out before cumming?”

“Shut up,” Hawks seethed quietly, teeth baring. “You are the least likely to ask that.” He sounded somehow offended by the mere question.

Worst of all, Dabi smirked, a wicked twist on his lips as he took another whiff of your lingering scent. You smelled damn good. Did this smell characterize you? He licked his lips thinking about how much it would intensify being face to face, Keigo didn’t like it one bit.

He recognized the wild look of violence on his face, and the lust shinning in his hazy eyes was anticipated. Nevertheless, the fat erection he felt pressing against his leg, wasn’t. Hawks stared wide-eyed as the sinking realization came over him.

“.... If you come a fucking inch close to her, I’m going to—”

The air was knocked out of his lungs, and with it, a nasty warning which Dabi shoved back into his lips with a toothy kiss.

“I don’t want you—” Hawks hissed between muffled smooches and Dabi clamped a too-warm hand over his mouth and pressed hard. Hawks stood still at the blazing heat and soon Dabi’s forehead pressed on his, feverish and sweaty. 

“You don’t want me, huh?” His eyes, like blue-burned coals, pierced into his golden pools of honey. Keigo could already smell the heat smoldering off of him. “You want her, don' cha? 

The flame-bender lost an unhinged, shaky breath. “Here she is, birdy.”

Dabi flipped him around violently and smashed his face into the dirty ground, his naked chest pressed to the hero's clothed back, hips drawn together, just the fabric of their trousers unplugging them apart. Dabi had twisted Keigo into a submissive stance where he was in control.

“Look at her!” One of his hands wrapped around Keigo’s jaw while the other snaked around his long, hard cock. “Look at her pretty face twisted by a grimace of pain-" Dabi forced him to look at the photos scattered on the ground. 

"No pain,” Hawk’s hand tugged at the one on his jaw, inadvertently digging into his staples. “That’s pure and raw pleasure....” Dabi was so turned on, he was dangerously insensitive to the hurt that bloomed on the back of his palm, “—my baby bird came so many times on my cock, I lost count.” 

Unthinking, Dabi squeezed at his engorged cock, wrenching himself impossibly closer against him. 

“It's the lies we tell ourselves what make us villains.”

The raven-haired mouthed against his ear, slowly starting to jack the Hero off, and Keigo mewled, deep and husky, only serving to inflame his arousal. The winged hero didn’t even know why his body started reacting the way it was, when he was noticeable enraged with the Todoroki. Even so, his whole frame rutted against his, seeking to bring friction for his aching cock.

“(Y/N)~” 

The blond called for you again, imagining that it was your hand hugging his swollen cock, your small and fragile hand increasing the speed on his thrusts, your tender palm synchronizing with the abrupt movement of his hips as he searched for his release. It was YOU jerking him off, willingly. YOU wanting to see him in pleasurable trance, raptured in thrill and joy. YOU, wanting him to spill himself all over your fingers. 

“Yes, baby bird! Fuck—” 

Dabi’s mouth went to his neck, but applied nor kisses nor bites. He just pressed against the skin and breathed in pants as he let himself be jack off by the euphoric rubbing of Hawk’s ass against his clothed erection. 

“Fuck,” the villain sputtered out angrily, disoriented, and his fingers warmed into his skin. Hawks moaned against his palm, both in pain and unbidden pleasure. “Does-Does it feels nice, birdbrains?” The Todoroki stuttered against his ear as his warm palm kept a calculated pumping motion over his shaft.

“It-It feels...-feels fu-.... fucking amazing, baby—MY baby bird.” The stuttering laughter on Touya’s chest was palpable against his back. 

“You, awfully amusing—delusional narcissist” Dabi chuckled out a sharp moan, and tilted Hawks’s chin up crashing his lips against his in a bruising tangle of saliva, solid tongue against solid tongue in an impish ballet of wills.

Dabi was doing things with his mouth that shouldn’t have been possible. It should have been illegal, no wonder why he was one of the most feared villains. The sensations, the velvety, experienced tongue, the piercings decorating it. All so functional and alive against his own mouth. 

Dabi Todoroki felt like you. Less tender and more abrasive, nevertheless, you were similar...both passionate creatures he ought to bow to. If he put you together in the same bed with him, it would undoubtedly be a night to remember and hold on to for the rest of his orchestrated existence.

“(Y/N), suck my tongue~” he begged, and the villain conceded all too happy. 

The lewd sound of his stapled fist pumping the Hero’s heated piece of meat made him hiss a low and dangerous curse against his lips. 

For some reason this intimate act of angry lust infused in allorgasmia tints was more fulfilling than when they'd fucked by nature's mere design. Hawks used to arrive urged and salivating, begging to be attended to during his rut, and Dabi just wanted a hot and ready hole to deposit his vast and excessive, load. It was a good deal. It never involved feelings or anything as fool as that. Just instinct, raw and frenetic.  

Dabi wanted more of that, he wanted Takami Keigo on the brink of insanity, unfortunately for the blond, the flaming villain knew by heart how to reach his perverse goal.

“—Wouldn't you rather, your baby bird,” Touya Todoroki started, he also knew how to tweet pretty as the birds did, he could play the right notes to disarray his victim’s feathers, “—to surrender her body for your use rather than taking initiative yourself, blondie?” 

“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes! I want that... -so, SO bad!” Dabi laughed throatily at Keigo’s reaction. 

“You could be squeezing that perfect pair of tits together and sliding this fat, veiny cock between them,” his fist caressed the Blond's erection insistently, from head to base and back to head again, letting the pad of his thumb massage the mushroom tip in lazy, continuous motions until he felt the shivers quaking his whole frame, “rutting into her until you came inside her fertile womb, her gummy walls milking ‘till the last ounce of cum from your heavy and full, balls.” Dabi chuckled coarsely, “she, resigned to lie there and let you.”   

“FUCK, YES!” Takami Keigo blasted, his forehead glued to the photos on the floor, his only tie to you, his only source of comfort was you and only you. Those photos would help him get through the entire month.

Dabi utterly ignored his laughable clinginess. It had nothing to do with him, and instead, pushed for his own entertainment.

The fire-bender was only concerned with the heat. All that bristled his scarred skin was the butterfly-fluttering feeling of that blessed heat, that came from raw domination. All he could think of now was you, not even Keigo anymore.... YOU –the picture of Keigo's baby bird’s being fucked against a trash can would have to suffice this time.

Your lips parted in thunderstruck dazzlement, dry, and begging to be wetted by his pierced tongue– 

Yes! You ought to be touched appropriately, by a meaningful man, not a double agent-spy who didn't even know how to please you, properly.

There was a shaky commotion as Hawks came hard and plenty all over his stapled fingers, and then a needy curse that Dabi distantly recognized as Keigo's after-coital pleadings.

“Don’t let go—hold my cock inside your warm palm…” requested in lost fervor a flippant, Keigo. 

“As pathetically needy as ever—but I’ll buy…. Why?” Dabi mused, condescension taking an amusing upgrade in his voice. His quirk-induced palm, still holding him tight. 

“Because-Because I want to pretend that I am inside her-…” he declared without a trace of shame or embarrassment, “deep inside MY sweet and beautiful, baby bird. She´s so warm and perfect~” 

Hawks sounded delirious, no doubt still lost in the mist of orgasm, and that obvious vulnerability deflated Dabi's need to come, and inflated his need to seize the moment.

“So, she wasn´t just a spurt of the moment—” Keigo denied his head hard, almost offended by the insinuation. “She’s way too precious to me.”  

“Must be some rut thing of you, birdbrains” he conceded, slowly but concealingly milking the last drops out of Keigo’s now-flaccid cock, “you’re the only person I know who builds nests and woos his mate so devotedly—…in other words, the girl’s not special…more like just a whim of your beating and blinding, instinct, so to speak.” Dabi stated, matter-of-factly at the panting figure under his solid frame.

“She’s SPECIAL—specially created for me…” Keigo declared, his heaving lips pouting a little. Dabi chuckled, finally untangling his palm off his dormant cock. 

“You’re going to kill her with that monstrous cock you carry between your legs,” he smeared some ropey lines of cum between his forefinger and his thumb before continuing, “Your Hero name should be: Vlad, the Impaler—” 

Keigo huffed, unamused. 

“She’s built to take me in with no problem, I filled her so well last time… you could even see the shape of my cock inside her tummy, regardless, she was whole, just like that…” the blond sounded amazed, and Dabi thought to himself: sure, I saw it-...it’s printed on paper. Nevertheless, he kept those thoughts to himself. “—I’ve never been able to bottom down on someone like I did with her…” 

Instantly and almost fiercely, Hawks shrugged away from Dabi’s dominant touch, and the villain allowed it, playing perfectly the part of the understanding lover and the ‘good’ friend.

“…I still don’t understand how you didn’t send her to the hospital—” and there was when Keigo made the worst mistake of his entire life. 

“Her quirk.” He shared, flatly, slowly fixing his pants on his hips, buckling his leather belt as if he weren't revealing your biggest weapon. “She has the ability to cure anything, my baby bird has a very special quirk—similar to that of recovery girl.” The blond boasted very proudly, too distracted by the villain’s pampering attitude and his own endorphin-flooded brain to realize that he had doomed you. 

Dabi didn’t reply, and he merely grinned. One of those dangerous grins that characterized him. All tooth and sinfully, corrupt.

Dabi’s turquoise eyes gleamed with something akin thrill, beloved malice, the Hero just spatted what he inched to know… Just what he suspected. 

You were the key to his revenge. You would help him kill his father and end his filthy lineage. You would cure his body from the fire that afflicted him. You would allow him to become more powerful than anyone. You would be HIS…

COMING SOON PART 14....

➡️ NSFW Artwork of this story 🥵

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts

[honestsycrets]

omg sex worker miguel o’hara? 🤧🫡

grande | sex worker!miguel o'hara x assistant!reader

❛ pairing | sex worker!miguel o'hara x assistant!reader.

❛ type | extended drabble; 2kish words; explicit

❛ summary | you probably shouldn't tell a man that he's small. even if you've known him a very long time-- and especially if you see him fuck every day.

❛ tags | sex worker au, improper use of belts, male receiving oral, slight disagreements, workplace argument, Spanish is not translated

❛ sy’s notes | ...i now have an escort!miggy x rich girl!reader in my drafts to be finished at some other time because it became a bit depressing and plotty. needed something light to get back into writing for a bit.

He doesn’t play fair. Most women understand that about him. They know Miguel to be the man who bends the delicate boundaries of rules for a good fuck— be it a place, be it a position. Miguel would do what he had to for a better clip. 

“Miggy?” You said, hands behind your hips. He should have known then that you were up to some shit. You hover somewhere in his vision with a sugar-sweet smile. You’ve worked with him alongside him since he chose this profession. Most days, he watched you sit by your favorite window that cast a warm midday sun, tacking away with fingers that flew across the keys. Some days, you’re watching him-- mounted on another woman. He cocked his thick brow at you. 

“What?”

“I… it’s just… fuck. Elena had something come up.” 

“Like I said she would."

Miguel set his fist to his cheek, swirling his protein shake in the other hand. This woman was your idea, not his. There’s a reason your voice choked on the words. You were anxious about your news the way your hands rounded to the front of your body, clammy hands plastered onto your tablet.

“I just thought—“

“I know what you thought. You thought my followers would like her.” He took a swig of his drink. “Not if she’d like me.”

That was exactly the issue. You do too much worrying about what the viewer likes, not enough about what he would like. He was well aware from every ping from Elena and the contorted little face you made that she was scared of him. As to why, he was not certain. He's grumpy, not dangerous.

“She does like you— it’s just your dick,“ you fumbled with your tablet, nearly spilling it over on his lap. “I told her you weren’t that big. She’s just— dramatic.”

“Not that big?” 

You’re not winning this fight. He threw a look at the tablet, finding your suggestion more egregious than your description of it. Too thick! She complained. He’d stretch her out. Or, so she feared. He sincerely doubted that. She took enough dick that if that were the case, she’d have an issue long before now.

He’s not that big in real life. All that big dick crap is just marketing. I see his dick all the time. 

Then you fuck him!

His mouth flattened into an unmoveable line, clearly unappeased with your response. For a moment, he did not move. He did not fidget. Nor respond. He simply stared down at you with those sharp, unhumored eyes. What little security you had in convincing him flitted away. He abandoned his drink on the table and leaned in close. Close enough that his thick strands of dark hair tickle your skin. Enough that you can smell the perfumed oil that lingered on his tanned skin. He always smelled so good.

“Until you’ve fucked me onscreen,” he brushed past. “Don’t tell women who will what I’m like.” 

Oh. You made a mistake.

You don’t like it when Miguel is angry. 

Most days coming to work, Miguel has a hot coffee on the table for you as you edit his finest ball-busting work. When the days stretch a little too long, he tells you when enough is enough. And, if you were lucky, he hovered at the stove and made you something to eat. It gave you a perfect sight of his toned shoulders and the long column of his spine-- which he so graciously allowed you to drool over day by day. Today, there was no half-dressed hunk making your delicious meals in sight. 

He’s still angry. You pulled up his socials, scrolling through the responses to the latest video. A teasing blooper of a clip with a woman with Miguel’s length halfway down her throat, coughing up his seed all over her chest as you mistakingly giggle behind the screen. 

“Keep laughing and see what happens,” Miguel drifted to yours, eyes hazy and soft, chest rising violently with the sundering sensation of his orgasm. He watched for the span of only a few heartbeats, a decadent warning exchanged between the two of you immeasurable before the camera. He reached for a tissue.

“Perdóname, papi.” 

Does anyone know if they’re fucking? A user asked. It’s as if Miguel’s co-star was but a fading character. Any chance of seeing him fuck her?? Whats her @? 

She’s just his employee.

Need this.

Just an employee. The words pulled on a string of connection that could at any time be cut. Miguel had no interest in wielding the scissors to do so, rather, over the past few years the string only became stronger. He’ll get over it. You stared at the reflection of your poorly made cup of cafecito, undrunken because no one made it like Miguel made it. He’s there, hovering around the sink, but you feel all the more alone in the room. Producer, editor, friend-- your eyes fell back to the cup. 

“Are you done?” Miguel hovered by your coffee cup. It was cool to the touch. 

“Ah. Sí.” 

You gazed up at him, regret seeping from your features. If you apologized yet again, he’d simply leave the room. There are no good words. No ones that would make sense, no words that would… be good enough to make him come back when he’s in this mood, unmoveable and distant. You’re so close to him-- but all alone.

He takes the cup away.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Miguel dropped his phone on your office desk. It thumped over the tablespace, his expression morphing into something wrong. You turn his phone upright, knowing the contents before the information actually registers in your mind. 

“It’s a picture of me,” you closed the top of your laptop and whirled around in the chair, knocking your knees against his. He’s closer than he’s been in days. 

“Yes. But what else?” he rumbled. 

You’re not stupid, remembering the launch of merch that Miguel sincerely doubted anyone would be seriously interested in. How many people wore a male sex worker’s merch? This was all your idea, of course. Your lip is bitten fat, stripped of skin. Your eyes wandered across the table to the cabinet with an array of different cameras. Miguel rapped his scarred knuckles over the table, blocking your desperation for an escape. He wanted a substantial answer.

“You told me to make sure it sold.” 

“And that meant model with your ass out on my page.”

“You don’t like it?” 

"Dios," that’s not the point. He breathed a forceful breath, navigating your rolling chair up against the bed in the room. Typically the bed was used for a late night at the office or one of Miguel’s performances with any number of women you cast him with. Or, as you preferred, when he masturbates by himself-- squeezing his hand along his length as your phantom hand poured more wet lubricant over his cock. The sheets are always stained and consequentially changed.

“I don’t like that they know what you look like,” Miguel supplied, his chest cresting into a fall. His gaze fell to your hands, settled in a clasp over your short skirt. Now he knew what you looked like. “Do you know how many requests I have to…”

“Fuck me.” 

“Sí,” Miguel said, your name dying on his tongue. “To fuck you.” 

“Then do it. You have a camera.”

What-- his gaze read. It’s in the way his brow pushed together, how his lips fell just so lightly apart. He would say something more, but your hands are on his dark slacks, tracking up toward his sturdy leather belt. In only an hour or so, Miguel was meant to record with Elena, who, you convinced. He should be saving his stamina for that, not this. Even so, his hands hovered atop your own, grunting slightly in response, unable to stop what you were doing. 

“Don’t ask me to ruin you.”

“I think you already have,” you murmured, finding his soft cock. You stroked him through his pants, drawing along his length, getting him where you want him. With every scene you recorded, you knew what Miguel liked. You knew he liked scenes where he could take his time, as short and far between as they were. You want that too. You drew the belt loose and unbuttoned the little spry button. So close, you could almost taste him.

“Are you going to record it?” You gestured toward the desk, pulling his cock into the free air. He’s an impressive length, just as you recall, you think he has to be to be an adult actor. The real treat is Miguel’s thick girth, swirled with delicious veins. You had seen his dick at least a hundred times, delighted in watching him meet his orgasm time and time again, and touched yourself to the thought of being just like his many girls. 

“No,” Miguel pulled his belt from the loops and tugged it around his wrist. He let the other hand find the back of your head, weaving through smooth locks of hair, guiding your lush lips to his cock. “This is all for me.” 

When he spoke like that, all you wanted was to make him happy. Your moist mouth separated, warm breath tickling the length that he shoved into your wet mouth. Maybe Elena had a point, you think, suckling around his length once, drawing to his fat tip. He hums in response, bucking back deep into your mouth. Miguel didn't want to wait, causing you to gag over his length, a terrible coughing resonating about his dick. Now that he had you here, he would show you how wrong you were.

“I thought I wasn’t that big,” Miguel’s hand left your head, stretching his belt across the back of your neck. Bucking forward, you gagged around his length, scratching his clothed hip for some mercy. If he wasn’t so big-- you could take it, couldn’t you? “Just like that. Hm? Cómo?” 

He was gracious enough to allow you off his cock, gasping for air as you were, the depth of his plunging cock having pricked a few oversensitized tears on the sides of your eyes. You’re beautiful like that, overwrought and needy. Your heart rattled in the confines of your ribcage, wheezing as you jerked him pathetically. How certain you look now, tugging on him for a moment of relief.

“I’m sorry--” 

“Ya sé.” 

Your eyes fluttered shut, guiding him back into your mouth. Your cheeks hollowed out, drawing him in fast and hard. If not for the belt around the back of your neck, he might have stumbled, stuck between the warmth of your mouth and the pleasured groans tickling his length. You’re well-accustomed to what the girls do, stretching your palm around his dick.

“Harder,” he remarked, throwing a half-chewed-up curse aside. Unlike with the other girls, he’s weak before the pleasure, usually focused and refined, his jaw clenches. He’s gotten weak-- has it been that long since he’s had sex outside of the roll of the camera? 

“Miggy,” you pulled back, your sloppy tongue swirling about his fat tip. He catches the moan in his chest, refusing to let it crest over, not yet. His eyes catch yours, muscular stomach flexing, he’s listening. “I want to taste you. Can I taste you?” 

You’re such a good niña. Miguel forces you back to your rightful place on his cock, the band stretched so tight around his fists that he might break it. Your name becomes an unbearable, pleasurable slur on his tongue. He’s a trained man, knowing to cum when you say to come on each shoot. In many ways, he's your trained dog: cuming when he's told to.

His length pulsed in your mouth for one final thrust before he gave you what you wanted, strands of release spraying the back of your warm little mouth. You suckled him up, even as he tried to pull free. You cleaned his cock, sucking him nice and clean. Miguel brushed off your attempt to zip him away.

“Don’t bother,” Miguel breathed, pulling at the black-tie strapped to his throat. His white dress shirt was soaked, causing him to roll the sleeves up to his elbows. His voice dropped, well-fucked out but nearly ready for another round. “Your cunt is next.” 

“But Elena is on her w--” 

“Fuck her,” Miguel waved his hand, slouching into your chair. “Fix the camera. We have a video to shoot.” 

If nothing else-- now you can tell her how big he really is.

[andersonfilms]

❝ THE NIGHT WE MET ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

it's here! the first installment of a series i've had the pleasure of creating with emi. thank you to my muse, the wonderfully brilliant @abbyscherry. we've put our blood, tears, and all of our queerness into this. happy to post and get this out there. in the future, there will be many parts to follow! enjoy <3

tags. eighteen+, nsfw themes, sexual innudenos, masc!reader.

it’s typical. the basement fills with smoke in the air, nearly anyone is on something. the anxious feeling ties in her stomach, lacing a hint of restlessness in her nerves, making her more sick than she needed to be. too much, too fucking much. a moment needed to find her own heartbeat. she allows the smell of weed to fill her lungs when she steps in. she personally doesn’t really know anyone. 

except you. she’s too nervous to make any type of introduction. you’re not really friends. no. abby just knows of them and she’s almost positive you don’t know of her. these type of parties always occur on friday night in the warmth of spring? never white of her radar. 

but even she has to admit, it seems nice. 

everyone’s smoking, chilling, having a good time and abby comes down there for a hit but everyone is occupying any space to sit. anxiety wraps around her neck, an unsettling feeling, so she decides to head elsewhere until she hears an unfamiliar voice. their voice extends to her like sweet honey she’s dying to taste. “abby, do you wanna hit?” abby nearly starts hyperventilating because you know her name. she nods “i, um, i was just doing to head upstairs. nowhere to sit.” abby shrugs nonchalantly. “if you want to take me up on it, my thighs are available for you, baby.” 

fucking crimson red. abby knows her cheeks resemble the color. she’s done for. one conversation and she’s practically on the floor. you take another hit, the smoke filtering out of your irresistible lips into the foggy air. you slouch further as you open your thighs even more, abby’s gaze flickers to your crotch before meeting your eyes once again. she’s never seen anyone smirk so proudly. you’ve got her right where you want her, hardly having to move an inch to catch anyone’s attention. abby isn’t any different. 

“‘m too big. it’s fine, i’ll just go back up.” you’re frowning. eyebrows raised as if it’s a challenge. 

“well, maybe for some of the other girls who like to hang around with you,” abby’s confused. have you been watching her? oh god. “but certainly not for me. so, why don’t you be a good girl and take a seat.”

with caution, slowly, she’s making her way over to you. each sends a shiver up her spine. what the actual fuck are you doing to her? taking another hit from your blunt as your eyes never leave her. watching as she adorably walks up to you. when she’s close enough, standing right in front of you, you’re whispering softly and only she can hear “sit down on my lap, pretty girl. i got you.” the second she does, it’s heaven on earth. 

“are you sure i’m not too…heavy?” abby questions. she’s always been quite conscious of her size. tall, built, but you don’t seem to mind. “light as a feather, babygirl.” passing for a moment you ask her if she wants a hit. her eyebrows burrow at the small, the rolled blunt in your hands. “just weed baby, but don’t feel pressured.” abby nods in acceptance. you reassure her as you slide one of your huge hands on abby’s thigh, rubbing slowly as the other becomes occupied by holding the blunt up to her lips, and asking every few seconds if she was okay, and if she wants to keep smoking more or stop. 

abby’s hair is down, but it’s in the way of seeing her freckled face so you whisper in abby’s ear “baby, is it okay if i move your hair to the side? wanna see your pretty face when i talk to you.”  abby fumbles over her words like a lovestruck idiot. “yeah, um, you can move it.” she feels their fingertips graze her neck as her blonde locks are pushed to the side. she whines at the loss of your lips pressed against her ear, but oc isn’t going to comment on it. yet. “so much better, baby. now i can appreciate just how beautiful you are.”

abby’s noticing all the glances thrown your way the longer she sits practically on you and gets a sudden confidence boost and leans back into your chest— your hard, defined chest, that she can feel, and her cheeks redden if that’s even possible when you’re arm is tightening around her waist, holding her protectively as your eyes harden, glaring at everyone staring. “want another?” you mumbled, lips grazing the shell of her ear, the hotness of your breath sending shivers down her spine. 

“m’okay for now” she smiled shyly, fingers reaching out to fumble with the ones you had around her, playing with them for a few seconds before looking around, the buzz of smoking going to her head a little. “s’cool”

“hm?” you’re chuckling, moving your head at a better angle to see her. “what’s cool, pretty girl?”

“my head’s fuzzy” abby giggled, eyes fluttering closed as she slumped her head back against your shoulder. “s’good though. feels good. i like it” she smiled.

“yeah?” you chuckled against her ear, hand creeping up her shirt and you rubbed her skin gently. slowly. comfortingly. “s’that good, pretty girl? you want anymore or are you done?”

“don’t think i can handle anymore” she mumbled, tired all of a sudden. 

“s’okay” you smiled, leaning back, her body following and getting more comfortable. her cheeks are flushed again, glad she’s facing away from you so you can’t see how flustered she really is over your touches and words. “want me to get you a drink? beer? water—”

abby lifts her head and her blue eyes sparkle when she’s turning around in your lap to look at you, giving you a good view of her crimson cheeks and you can’t help but smirk down at her. “no, m’comfortable” she pouted.

“s’good, don’t want you to be uncomfortable” you’re talking to her, and abby swears she’s trying to pay attention to what you’re saying, but she’s more focused on your voice itself. At how raspy yet soft it is. how gentle it sounds against her ear. almost whining at the subtle touch of you pushing her hair to the side again, fingertips ghostly brushing against the skin of her neck. sending shivers down her spine. 

she hates the way she can’t control the little sound she let’s out when your nose runs up and down on the side of her neck, smiling smugly against her like you already know what you’re doing to her. “wanna do something?”

her eyebrows furrow, lips forming into a pout as she turns her head to look at you. “do what?”

abby’s cunt clenches around nothing when your face is suddenly so much closer to hers, a smirk forming on your lips at her confusion. “body shots” 

“b-body shots?” she’s stammering, unsure if you’re being serious or not. “with you?”

licking your lips, you finish smoking and chuckle at her, the smoke cloud showing just enough of your face for her to see. “yeah, baby. body shots, with me” 

“now?” 

her face flushes even more red, if that was possible when you chuckled, but nodded nonetheless. “yes now, if you want to, the choice is all yours but i’d like to”

why was she nervous all over again? was it the way you were looking at her? was it the way you were smiling, tucking strands of hair behind her ear? or the way your breath fanned against her lips and it made her want to suddenly to kiss you? it could be any of those reasons, or all.

“um—” she giggled, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, and nodded shyly at you. “yes, please”

with a pat on her side from your hand, abby stumbled off your lap, almost falling over her own feet in the process and couldn’t help but laugh loudly when you’re reaching out, wrapping your arm around her waist that she giggles uncontrollably into your chest. “m’sorry” she manages to get out amongst her small giggle fit.

her giggle had you laughing, holding her tightly in your arms. “are you okay?” you choked out, a few tears ran down your face as you slipped your hand up her shirt, and rubbed her back slowly. helping her calm down in a way you somehow knew would work. “you wanna get some air before?”

“no. i wanna do it with you”

“oh?” you smirked, chuckling under your breath.

“what? no! n-not like that!” abby shook her head with another stammer that made you laugh, lifting her head up, and blinking repeatedly under the lights. “wait that came out mean, i didn’t mean—”

“pretty girl, relax, s’okay”

abby felt her confidence grow as she walked away from the large crowd. your hand resting protectively on her lower back, making sure no one gets too close to her, and your eyes darted around, wanting her to have the best night possible and no get randomly bombarded with other people. 

she chose you to spend her night with. 

you weren’t going to let anyone ruin it. 

interlocking your fingers with hers, you cocked your head to the side, eyeing up the few that were in the kitchen. drinking and giggling away, probably high out their mind and not really sure what was going on anymore. too high to give a shit that you were both standing there, waiting for them to leave. which made a smirk appear on your lips when abby’s giggling again behind you, trying her hardest to stifle the sounds upon your sudden cough, a small hint for them to get out. “thank you” you bowed sarcastically as their quickly rushing out the kitchen, still laughing to themselves. “let’s get this party started, yeah, pretty girl?” you’re grinning, wiggling your eyebrows at her. 

wearing nothing but a white button down, no bra, cleavage on show with the three buttons undone minutes later. laying down on the countertop, abby’s sprinkling salt along their sternum. you smirk at her shaky hand. “you alright babygirl?” your raspy down flooding to her slippery cunt, as if every bone in her body wasn’t already nervous enough. she pauses as she grabs the lime on the countertop, placing it by the shot of tequila. 

mhm….you can’t just let this slide. the pretty girl you met tonight is just so shy, you feel your clit pulsating. the weed from earlier making your head feel lighter at the thought of her tongue licking your body. your tattooed hand with fingers decorated with rings grips her chin forcing abby’s gaze down to you. 

“grab the lime and shove it my mouth. want you to pull it out of mine with yours. how does that sound, babygirl? wanna feel my lips some more?” your drop your hand, letting it drop between her tits, until it reaches the waistband of her jeans. digging your fingers in, letting your skin kiss the skin of the v-line exposed. you pull her towards you even more forcing abby to bend over. her face impossibly close to yours. “be a good girl and stuff my mouth, angel. i’ll return the favor later…if you want.”

pale skin floods with crimson, she bites her lip, unable to say a damn thing. what the fuck is she supposed to say to this? with all her might, she stifles the giggle begging to be released, concentrating on the task at hand. the simple one you’re making incredibly difficult.

“i made it so easy for you. kicked everyone out, jus’ you and me, but you if you don’t want to do this, all you have to do is say the word. i’ll only get my feelings hurt a little bit.” you offer a small smile as abby lets her eyes drift to the salt perfectly laid across your sternum, fuck, you shouldn’t look this good. 

“i do—” abby pauses, collecting her next thoughts together before speaking. “i just, i’ve never done a body shot and you’re um very…” 

“what babygirl? i’m very what?” you’re eating it up now. practically getting off in the way abby fumbles with her words. grasping at straws as you watch her gawk at your toned chest. “stop.” the pretty blonde pouts. 

“you know you’re so—” god, why can’t she just fucking say it? “s’just a lot. you make me nervous. i kept getting looks. especially from the the girl in the white cropped top with your name on it.” 

“if you have something to ask, i’m all ears.” she’s cute, god. not even yours and she’s already jealous. it should turn you off, but it’s the most adorable thing in the world. plus, she’s being so sweet about it too. the itch for a taste if her only increases. “are you single?” you simply nod, letting the words soak in, gauging her reaction. 

“have been for months. just some don’t like getting left behind s’all. everyone with eyes can see i’m taking interest in someone new. i don’t let just anyone sit on me.” your hand grabbing onto her hip, thumb rubbing softly over the bone. “c’mon baby. i know you’re shy but don’t you wanna use me?”

she’s quite for a moment and it’s clear you have to take the lead. as much as the blonde is a bundle of joy, she’s an even brighter ball of shyness. either way, you’re itching to satisfy the craving. 

“do you want me to tell you what to do?” abby perks up at the question, desire pooling in the pit of her stomach. all of this, from the very beginning of her night with you, is completely new. with the roles reversed she feels backed into a corner. for the first time, she knows it can feel good like this. 

abby nods, but it’s not enough. “no babygirl, need to hear you say it. tell me you want to.” even in your haze, you wanted to make sure she was good with everything. abby’s heart doubles over, her heartbeat unable to rest. 

“i do, um, want to.” abby mumbles, scratching the back of her neck, a hint of smile hidden beneath her pink lips, swollen from all the insistent biting. “mhm, alright then. let me talk you through it, yeah?” 

oh. 

“first, you’re gonna lick the salt lined up on my chest. then take the shot like a good girl. and i’m going to put this lime in my mouth and you're going to take it out and get a taste.” you reach for the lime, sinking your teeth into the wedge, giving her a small nod telling her you’re ready. 

now or never, abby supposes. 

for far longer than necessary, she stares at your chest as if she’s inspecting each speckle of salt. the tattoo along your sternum doesn’t really calm any, only heightens them. painfully so, you’re patient. waiting for her to make the first move. 

her grip extended as she bends over, each arm on either side of you. giving her some room operate. the last thing she wants is to be awkward about it even if she feels she already has been. her head leans down, abby’s hair tickling your skin as she looks at you, blue eyes entranced as she flattens her tongue on your skin, licking one bold. 

you’re looking down at her in awe. truly, you half expected her to chicken out but she didn’t. welcoming the salty taste in her mouth, she looks at you with half-lidded eyes, tongue smoothing her lips as if she’s expecting there to be more of you. pushing herself off slightly, she takes the shot of tequila. 

she nearly gags on the burn in invading her throat. not one for drinking typically, and if she does it’s certainly not straight liquor. you find the innocence inviting. abby’s crimson cheeks flaring up in embarrassment, shaking her head violently as she tried to disguise her feelings, making you giggle. 

abby rolls her eyes playfully as she leans over once again, wet lips barely touch your own, before the lime is brought into her mouth, sucking on until the sour acid overflows and drips down her chin and onto your chest. 

but abby doesn’t think about what she will do next. suddenly, it’s a reflex. her tongue is licking up the excess of liquid on your chest, cleaning up the mess she made. a quiet whisper of abs, is let out as you feel her wet tongue. you want to laugh. you almost do, until she’s licking her way up to your neck, kissing your jaw softly before pulling off your body. 

“someone really wants a taste of me.” you tease, watching her blush but the need doesn’t fade. lost in the red of her gaze causing her to nibble on her lips.  you sit up with ease, now eye level with her. “you’re way too high tonight, feel like it’s my fault. i think i’m a bad influence.” you cradle her pretty face in your palm, thumb caressing her soft jaw. 

“was it too much?” abby questions, eyes pleading with acceptance. “no, not at all. if anything, just made me want more.” you talk a beat to look at her. it’s a privilege, getting to witness her up close, wide-eyed as she tries to figure you out. she won’t. not yet at least, not until you let her.  

“next time i can make it too much for you, if that’s what you like.” you tilt your head to the side. “not everyone likes it like that, but some girls do. i’m willing to bet you do.” your fingers reached up to her nose, following down the bridge and the bump in her nose. “you just give me a call and let me know, babygirl. alright?” 

“i don’t—” she paused, suddenly interested in the dribble of lime on your lip, and she can barely stop herself, again, when she’s using the pad of her thumb to wipe it away. the action quickly had you looking at her with wide eyes. not expecting her to do something so bold when the most of the night she’s been too shy to even look at you. but this makes you laugh, and flick your tongue out and catches her thumb. grinning at her abrupt squeak.

“you don’t what, babygirl?”

“have your number” she breathes out, almost breathlessly. her body tingling at the feeling of just your tongue against a part of her body. even if it was just her fucking thumb. it was something. “so i can’t, you know, call you”

nervous and shy abby was one you needed to meet again.

“do you want it?” you’ve got that stupid fucking smirk on your face again. a smirk that abby wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss it off you or smack it off your handsome face. either way, she’s nodding shyly and absentmindedly fumbling with the ring on your thumb. oblivious to your smile at her nervous habit. “words, use them, yeah?”

abby pouts, hating or loving, she hasn’t really decided yet, on how you can make her do things that she wouldn’t normally do. especially shutting her up by using certain words. you cocked your head to the side when she’s nodding again, lips parted before her baby blue eyes connect with yours. “yes” she clears her throat, “i would like your number”

“and i’d like yours so find me a pen, pretty girl” 

moving away from you, abby missed the sudden safeness you gave her. tonight was the only conversation she had with you, but she already felt safe. the comfort of just your hand on her lower back, she missed. “does this house even have a pen? i don’t even see a trash can anywhere” she grumbled, pushing her hair over to her other shoulder. the action not going missed by you.

“pretty girl, are you good?”

“no” she sighed, rummaging around in several of the draws, opening the cabinets, and finding no pen in sight. rolling her eyes dramatically as she slams shut the final draw again. admitting sudden defeat to an inanimate object. really mature abs.

you cleared your throat, eyebrow raising when abby turns around, looking at you like she just got caught stealing something from one of her friends to find you smirking, your right hand in the air, holding a pen. “if you spent less time being bratty, you would be able to find a pen” you chuckled, shaking your head. 

abby makes her way back towards you, slightly more confident once she’s in reach to steal the pen from you before you had chance to do anything, and holds it with a grin. “m’not a brat” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side in thought.

“sure you aren’t. what are you doing?”

“m’trying to think where i wanna put my number”

“on me?”

“on you” she nodded, tutting under her breath and trailing her finger up your chest. giggling when you’re sucking in a deep breath “can i put it here?” she asked softly, those eyes locking with yours again.

“uh huh” you nodded, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “you can put it wherever you want, pretty girl. as long as i walk out of this house with your number, then m’fine with it”

abby didn’t need to be told twice. placing her free hand on your other arm, using the other than was holding the pen to slowly, teasingly you thought, to write her number on your skin. the coldness of the tip of the pen had you sucking in another breath, her fingertips brushing against you had goosebumps rising on your skin afterwards. “there” she smiled, leaning back slightly and passing you the pen. “done”

shakily taking the pen from her, you laughed a little breathlessly and shook your head. “where do you want my number?”

“wherever you want” she’s using your words against you and it makes you laugh once more. 

a shiver runs down abby’s spine when you’re picking up her arm in your hand gently, stroking her skin with your thumb slowly and leaning a little closer, into her space, to press the pen, and ink against her arm. your breath tinkling her as you write each number slower than she wrote hers. teasing her back, aware of how much you’ve already got an affect on her. 

a crimson blush coats her cheeks when you’re pressing your lips right at the end, gasping softly when you bite down on her skin gently. “think that’ll be a good reminder of me until we meet again, sweetheart?” you asked, voice slightly deeper than it has been all night. 

she nodded dumbly with a shy smile. “yes” came her quiet reply. 

her eyes widen when you practically jump off the counter and wrap your arm around her waist, tugging her into your chest. her lips parting when you press yours against the corner of her mouth, and you can’t help but smirk when you’re stepping away from her, no longer in her space, a space she refused to let others into, but loved you being that close and pouted. “i look forward to seeing you again real soon, yeah, pretty girl?”

she’s watching you stumble out the kitchen like a lost puppy. heart thumping in her chest and music ringing through her ears when you turn your head a final time and blow her a fucking kiss. how is she going to go on about her day when you’re already the only thing in her head?

hope all my masc gays feel feed ... hehe <3

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚✒️₊✧ 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 ♡₊˚📓₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 professor x student 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 1.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: contemplating if i should do a full series on professor nanami. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

Professor Nanami was captivated by you from the moment you walked into the classroom on the first day. Among the sea of students, you were the only one who chose to sit right at the front, directly in the middle, with a radiant smile that caught his attention instantly.

He always seemed to lose his train of thought during lectures whenever he directed even a brief glance in your direction. 

When he found out your name during one of the online quizzes, he shamelessly delved into researching your social media accounts. Every image he came across painted a picture of sunshine and rainbows, but it was that one image of you in a bikini that sent shockwaves to his cock.

His obsession grew to the point he intentionally gave you a lower grade on an exam you clearly excelled in, just so you would have a reason to schedule office hours and discuss it with him.

As you sat across from him, he found himself struggling to catch his breath. You passionately argued why you deserved a chance for a retake. Tears welled up in your eyes, tracing the delicate edge of your waterline. He didn’t realize it would go this far and he was a fucking idiot for it.  

Nanami rushed over to your side. He quickly crouched down, gently cupping your flushed face in his hands. His thumbs wiped over your wet lashes as he whispered, “I apologize, sweetheart. I purposely gave you a failing grade just to have this chance to speak with you. It was not my intention to cause you distress.”

He held his breath, eagerly awaiting your response, your face still cradled in his hands, only for you to ask, “So, did I pass?” And with a chuckle, he nodded affirmatively, replying, “From the very start.” Because you were a smart girl. The smartest out of everyone he’s ever met. 

His chuckle abruptly ended when you leaned in and kissed him, causing him to freeze with wide-open eyes as yours remained tightly shut in anxious anticipation.

Then like a pliable putty responding to heat, he melted into the kiss, responding with fervor and intensity, while you stood there, arms encircling his neck, both of you lost in the moment. He awkwardly fumbled with locking his office door in a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of professionalism amidst the escalating moment.

You were perched comfortably on his lap, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his, your body undulating against his erection, fulfilling the dirty fantasies you've harbored for your professor since you first enrolled in his class.

He showered your face and neck with kisses, quickly removing your sweater to unveil your breasts. He teasingly latched onto your perky, sweet nipples, all while he struggled to contain his own orgasm, barely held back by the fabric of his boxers.

In a matter of minutes, he had you bent over his desk, pants and boxers dangling carelessly, his thick, veiny cock buried within you, thrusting vigorously, the force causing his stationary and name plaque to crash to the ground. You gripped the edges tightly, cheek pressed against the smooth mahogany surface, your ass arching to meet his every powerful thrust.

Finishing his heavy load inside of you, he marveled at the sight of his release dripping down your legs, mirroring the tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. Your asscheeks showed signs of discoloration from his relentless spanking; and your legs trembled with the aftermath. He helped you stand, but you sagged into his embrace, causing him to lift you in a bridal-style carry.

Settling into his chair, he gently stroked your face, showering you with praises for being such a good girl for him.

Relentless since the moment he first fucked you, Nanami couldn’t seem to get enough, whether it's after his lectures in his cluttered office, or shooting you a text asking you meet him in some deserted storage space, or inviting you to his place for a cozy evening of dinner and drinks.

And sometimes, it's not even about the sex but just cuddling on the couch, binging movies until you both fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms. It's like time stood still in those moments, suspended in a bubble of warmth that you both never want to burst.

Nanami had become your boyfriend months into your relationship. He surprised you on your graduation day by proposing to you in the lecture hall where you first met four years ago, and as an extra reward for being his good girl, he also asked you to move in with him.

He cried when you said yes.

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS part 6 - LN

warnings: angst, lots of swearing angry max, angry lando, angry y/n - everyone's mad. potentially a happy ending? (u have to read to find out :) ), cheeky bit of fluff

previous part -> next part

masterlist the playlist

“you fucking lied right to my face, the both of you!” max said, raising his voice and breaking the silence in his living room, “i asked you a year ago and you both lied to me.”

y/n and lando quickly realised that arriving together to talk to max was quite possibly a mistake. the drive to max’s house had started off well, the music flowing through the speakers and easy conversation between the two helped. yet, the closer they got, the more anxious they both started to feel.

they were all in the living room, P had scuttered off to the kitchen, busying herself with baking. max was directing every profanity he could think of towards both lando and his sister, their mother would be horrified to learn max even knew these words let alone the fact he was screaming them at her youngest daughter, y/n thought to herself.

it’s her nature to defend herself, but for the first time in her life, she sat silently, twisting her rings around her fingers. max was so angry, she figured he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say anyways at this moment in time. so she sat silently, taking the abuse.

“have you slept together?” max suddenly asked, his voice finally calm. y/n’s face grew red, lando stuttering.

“so that’s a yes, she who prides herself on being honest and can’t even give me a straight answer,” he snorts.

“i’m an adult, max. stop being so immature and overbearing,” y/n finally spoke up, her tone bold even though she wanted to do nothing more than cry, “what does it even matter? you’re going to get mad either way.”

“of course i’m mad! you,” he stated, pointing a finger at lando, “have been fucking my sister behind my back.”

“stop saying that shit - it’s not like that.”

“no? then what is it like?” max shouted back, his anger once again bubbling to the surface.

“I LOVE HER! ok, i love her,” lando said, finally raising his voice. the room fell silent. even the blender in the kitchen stopped, letting everyone know P was listening in.

“you love me?” y/n asked softly, turning to face lando. he looked almost scared. he chose to ignore her, moving his head up to stare into max’s eyes.

“max, i love her. i think i always have. i would do anything i could for her,” lando said, his voice returning to his normal tone. max said nothing, he simply turned on his heel and left the room.

“i tried angel,” lando said to the girl next to him, his arm stretching out to rub her thigh softly.

“i know you did,” she replied sadly, “so - you love me?”

“of course i do,” he replied, smiling at her.

“don’t take my lack of reciprocation as a rejection. i just uh- i just need time,” she said, panicking slightly and fumbling her words.

“i don’t expect you to say anything back, my love. we’ll sort this out, i promise.”

she wants to believe him, she really does, but max leaving the room was a bad sign.

“you can’t promise me that,” she says, his hands coming to cup her face and press a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“i will do everything i can to sort things out with max,” he says kissing her head again, before pushing himself off the sofa to follow max’s footsteps out of the room.

y/n sat in the silence, thinking only of the way max’s face fell in a mix of anger and betrayal before he stormed out of the room. too much had happened in the past 4 days, and she hadn’t given herself time to process a single part of it. the tears started flowing, and she feared they would never stop as she started coughing from the intensity of her sobs. P must’ve heard her from the kitchen, as not long after she’d started crying, P was sat next to y/n, pulling her body down to lay her head on her lap, her hand coming to stroke her back softly.

“he’ll come around y/n. he loves you, he can’t stay mad at you forever.”

“he can, and he will,” y/n responds, another wave of tears rolling sideways down her face, landing on P’s trousers.

meanwhile, max was in his room, pacing out of pure anger.

“mate i-,” lando said as he walked in the room.

“no, i dont wanna hear it. you promised me you would never d-” he interupts.

“i know! i know what i said. and i regret it.”

“you regret promising me you’d never defile my sister?”

“i regret not telling you how i felt about her. i regret making that stupid promise when it’s all i wanted.”

“all you wanted was to defile my sister? great argument lando, thanks for stopping by. you can fuck off now.”

“all i wanted was to love your sister. to give her the fucking world if she’d let me.”

“what?”

“i love her. she’s intelligent, she’s strong willed, she’s confident in herself, and i think she’s the most beautiful woman i’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he says, barely stopping to breathe, but max was listening - finally. the two friends looked at each other, both of them slightly shaking under the pressure.

“you really love her?” max asks after a few moments of silence, his voice the lowest it had been for hours.

“i do.”

“this isn’t just for a shag?”

“are you joking?”

“just answer the fucking question.”

“no, it’s not just for a shag. i want to spend to rest of my life with her.”

“ok.”

“ok?” lando repeated, confused.

“i’m not ok with this, but i will be eventually. so long as you don’t hurt her.”

“i think you should be more worried about her hurting me,” lando joked in attempt to ease the awkwardness, to his relief max smiled slightly.

“if she hurt you, id be the proudest ive ever been,” he jokes back, earning a small snort from lando.

lando backs himself towards the door, gripping the handle.

“you coming?” he asks max, cocking his head to the side slightly in questioning.

“nah i just need a few minutes to sort myself out.”

“alright mate. i think you need to speak to y/n.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” max quips back, lando holding his hands up in defence before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

when lando re-entered the living room, he saw y/n laying on P’s lap, crying softly, his entrance causing both girls to look up at him. he breathed out a sigh before announcing -

“i think it’s all gonna be ok.”

“i’m going to go an talk to him,” y/n said boldly, sitting up and wiping any remaining tears from her eyes, still trying to regain her regular breathing.

“are you sure that’s a good idea?” lando asked, voice lace with genuine concern.

“i don’t care. i need to let him know that this is not acceptable,” and with that, she left the room. lando and P looked at each other, their eyes both conveying a sense of dread for the impending fall out.

“max?” she asked, knocking on his door.

“go away.”

“no,” she said, pushing the door fully open and sauntering into the room.

“y/n i-”

“no, you’ve done your shouting. it’s my time to talk,” y/n tone was harsh, but it worked. max sat back in the chair, silently, allowing her to finally speak her mind.

“i didn’t do this out of disrespect for you,” she prefaced, breathing in a deep breath before continuing, “i didn’t expect this to happen. i didn’t think any of this was going to happen.”

“i know.”

“but that does not give you any right to decided what or who i do,” she declares, max grimacing slightly at her choice of words, “you made him promise to stay away from me! that’s not on, max. he was my friend too and even if anything else was happening you had absolutely no right to make that decision for me.”

he says nothing, simply nodding at his sister as he digests her words.

“you owe me an apology. for thinking you can control my life and for the way you have behaved in the last 3 days. it’s not the fucking eighteen hundreds, you cannot take this ‘alpha male’ role in my life and make decisions about who i date,” she adds, using her fingers to make quotation marks.

“i know that now,” he responds, guilt laced in his voice.

“what do you mean you ‘know that now’? you should have always known that. you wouldn’t tell sam or theo who they can date, would you?” she asks.

“no, i wouldn’t,” again, responding with a sad sigh, “i’m sorry y/n.”

“you better be. and you better start behaving like you are.”

“i will.”

“starting with buying me a new car,” she jokes, finally uncrossing her arms and smiling softly at him.

“catch yourself on,” he laughs back.

“it’s ok, god loves a trier - besides, i’m pretty sure lando offered to buy me one if he got podium.”

“on second thought, maybe i will buy you a new car.”

the two laughed together, an air of awkwardness still hanging between them. finally, he pushed himself off his chair, walking over to her and embracing her in a tight hug.

“im sorry y/n, im so sorry,” he mumbled into her ear.

“it’s ok max, i don’t think id be too impressed if you started fucking my friends either.”

“ew dont - dont talk about sex or you having it,” he shudders, “in my brain, you’re still 7 and shaving the heads of your barbies.”

“fine.”

“will you do me a favour?” he asks, sheepishly.

“depends.”

“can you and, him, you know, tone it down in front of me. just for a bit? just till i get used to it?”

“i didn’t intend on jumping his bones in front of you anyways, if that’s what you mean?” she jokes.

“y/n,” he groans in feigned annoyance.

“i’m sorry i’m sorry,” she apologises, holding her hands up in defence, the exact same way lando had earlier.

“you and him are probably a good match. you have the same personality. i think i just never wanted to admit it.”

“max fewtrell, stubborn? i never would’ve guessed.”

“i think it’s genetic.”

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes @secretgal66 @ririyulife @littlehoneyfreak @leclercdream @mehrmonga @eviethetheatrefreak @thatoneembarrasingmoment @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @formula1mount @lottef1 @rayna-s @5starl1ght @cthgee @thesiduation @urfavsgf @littlehoneyfreak

[magicians-abode]

Hiii!!! How about Chilchuck teaching you how to pick locks after you got locked inside a chest and the party couldn't find you? This is how he shows that he cares and worries about the reader lol.

With a halfling reader if that's oki with you....

Bonus points if after chatting for a while, they both started talking about locks and keys, not realizing it sounded like a sexual innuendo, then it got awkward lol

"Lost and Found"

[Chilchuck Tims x gn!half-ling!reader]

Warnings: slight sexual innuendo - fluff

You had gone missing. Missing. In the dungeon. From one moment to another you had disappeared from everyone's sight. You had been walking around with the group when you'd spotted a room full of chests and decided to enter to take a look around.

Chilchuck had groaned loudly at all the work Laios intended him to do to open every single one of them.— First of all, what if one of these is a mimic?!— Chikchuck protested, pointing a finger up towards the tall-man's face. Honestly he had a really good point.

That's when from behind them, they heard (y/n)'s voice speak and a sudden slam. Everyone turned around to see they were gone.

—(y/n)?— Marcille spoke up. Calling them a second time, when they didn't speak up everyone started to panic and look around. Were you outside of the room? Maybe on a room next door? but nothing, you had just dissapeared in the blink of an eye.

Groaning in discomfort and some pain, (y/n) rubbed the back of their head, where they had collided roughly against the inside of the wooden chest. Chilchuck fumbled to grab his tools as Laios, Marcille and Senshi looked at him expectantly when they had heard (y/n) knock from inside of one of the chests, making him even more anxious.

—Let's try this one!— pointed Laios.

—No! I think it's this one!— the mage contradicted him.

—Everyone shut up! Let me hear!— Chilchuck yelled, agitated as he stood silently in the middle of the room.—(y/n) can you knock once again for me?— he raised his voice so they could hear, trying to speak calmly, hoping you were still conscious.

When they knocked on the inside of the chest they had fallen into, Chilchuck hurried to help to unlock it and get them out.— It's okay, I'm here! Can you breathe well? I'm going to get you out! Don't panic!— no one had ever seen Chilchuck so... worried before. So seeing him stumble with his words and fumble with his lockpicking tools made everyone stare at him with curiosity and worry for (y/n).

After a minute or two Chilchuck successfully opened the chest to find them curled up inside. He helped them up and out with a worried expression on their face as he looked over their features. Where you hurt anywhere? How had that even happened in the first place? Was it a monster? Did someone accidentally push you? Did you fall??

—Uh– Chil, I'm okay...— they speak softly, reassuring him as he squished their cheeks to move their head to the side.— I saw a chest was slightly open and I wanted to take a closer look, but somehow I kind of fell in...?— they sheepishly admit with a chuckle.

Chilchuck hits their shoulder, protesting that he was worried. The faint redness on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by the group as he fussed at them. How sweet. And grumpy everyone thought as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. (y/n) couldn't help the giggle that erupted from their lips and hugged Chilchuck by the neck.— It's okay now, thank you for saving me— they speak sweetly, which only makes the half-foot more red in the face as he reciprocates the hugs slowly.

—Don't do that again or I'm not getting you out...— he mumbles, obviously not being serious. They would save them a thousand times if it was ever necessary.

Much later, when dinner was almost served, (y/n) and Chilchuck were sitting aside on the ground, legs crossed as he held up his lockpicking tools for them to see.— Why does the tip look like that?— (y/n) pointed at something the group could not see, for they were sitting with their backs facing them. That made half of the party look up with wide eyes in their direction.

Chilchuck calmly explained— Every keyhole is different, sometimes you need a bigger one, sometimes you need it to curve or to lay flat— he grabs (y/n)'s hand and brings it closer— Here, feel it— as soon as he says that, Senshi coughs loudly, catching their attention.

Both of them turn around— Are you okay, Senshi?— (y/n) asks, noticing everyone's flustered look—...what?—.

—Kids, you should look for some privacy if you're going to be doing such a thing. I understand you're curious, but please respect everyone else in the room— the bearded dwarf speaks, returning his attention to the food. Their cheeks become as red as a pomegranate as Chilchuck protests that, first of all, they're not kids, and second, that's not what's happening at all.

One can't even explain lockpicking in peace anymore, geez.

[maximotts]

girls just want to have fun ⁘ w. maximoff

listen I just... saw a tiktok yesterday and I had to get this out of my system... enjoy milf Wanda makeout sessions.. I just feel like the "I'll teach you" trope is criminally underrated

please don't flag this fic, I have warnings clearly labeled

80s milf!Wanda AU. masterlist. wc: 1.4k cw: 18+ only please. smut adjacent? talks of sex. heavy petting ig is what it's called. lots of kisses. soft dom!Wanda. perv!reader, but innocent-ish. groping. mommy kink. light dirty talk? let me know if I missed anything

"You've never had a woman's tongue in your mouth?"

Your no was barely above a whisper, shaking your head in earnest. Sitting on her couch close enough for your thighs to be brushing while her boys took their afternoon nap upstairs was surreal enough; you didn't have it in you to lie straight to Wanda's face. "I-I... have been kissed before..."

They were always fumbly, awkward things, mostly given after a few drinks or stolen between short walks from the car to your front door. Nothing deep enough to be considered a real kiss, even when you'd gotten far enough to have a girlfriend for a little while.

"And here I was thinking you were some kind of expert with how intensely you've been watching me over the past couple of weeks," Wanda laughed as you hung your head; she could practically see the steam coming out of your ears. A gentle hand rubbed your hot cheeks, coaxing your anxious eyes back up to meet eager ones. "Don't worry, honey. I'll teach you what you need to know."

Soft lips pressed against yours before you could utter another word, slow and practiced motions guiding where you remained stunned. Her thumbs grazing your jaw had your mouth parting just enough to grant Wanda's tongue entrance, the tip of the smooth muscle tracing the line of your bottom teeth before sliding over your still tongue. Your deep groan resonated through both of your mouths, the corners of Wanda's mouth turning upwards into a smile.

It was intoxicatingly sweet how quickly she could affect you, especially given her initial worry you'd reject her both for being older and having never been in a relationship with another woman. Apparently you were inexperienced in your own ways and damn if it didn't make Wanda that much more attracted to you.

As the brunette pulled back, shaky hands darted out to grab at her hips, your fists balling into her striped shirt in case she had any ideas about moving further away. "Mommy, noo..."

"Mommy?" If bolting down the street was an option, you'd have taken it, your uttered words mortifying you more than you could've ever imagined. Sure, the title had passed your lips before, but only in the privacy of your own home. To your credit though, this scenario was always a fantasy; your poor brain didn't have time to censor yourself.

Embarrassed as you were, you huddled into her, burying your face in the crook of her neck for any kind of respite. Wanda didn't let you cower for long, though, wrenching you away despite your pitiful protests. "Oh you're precious, please don't hide. You want another kiss, sweet pea?"

"Yes please-" Manners always went a long way with Wanda; the added please might've been the only thing that kept her from chastising how unceremoniously you pulled her in for a second kiss, arms wound around the older woman's neck to crash her into you.

This time as your lips locked, Wanda's hands wandered, shamelessly tapping at your knee until your legs parted, an easy request giving her access to your bare inner thighs. Perfectly manicured fingernails raked gently over your soft skin, tantalizing made up patterns leaving you shuddering as you eagerly welcomed her tongue on yours again.

"And have you let anyone touch you here before?" Her fingertips brushed over your center, electric even through your denim shorts. When you nodded, Wanda felt her own sting of jealousy, annoyed at whichever faceless human got to you before she could. She shook the feeling away, vowing inwardly that if she wouldn't be your first, she'd be your last.

"Naughty girl.. did you like it?" Filters gone in place of your need, you managed a quiet moan of a yes, remembering past orgasms and inserting Wanda into them instead.

Subtle as Wanda tried to be, you sensed her disappointment and peppered her face with desperate kisses, "I don't want them anymore... just you."

And you meant it; Wanda trumped any girl that'd ever been on your radar. Caring, self-assured, and oh so very flirty, it took no time at all for her obsession with her to grow and to whatever extent she wanted you too, there was no way you'd ever pass her up.

It pained Wanda to admit your sweet admission made her grumpiness subside, she wasn't known to waver so easily for anyone but her children, but she'd much rather see you smiling than distressed- in this context at least. "Fine then, you'll get to teach me something and we'll learn together, how's that?"

You agreed instantly, offering sloppy kisses down the column of Wanda's pale throat while needy hands grabbed her wrist, holding her in place to rut against. It didn't matter there were two layers of fabric barriers, you needed whatever friction you could get, body rendered desperate from the mere notion of Wanda's long fingers stretching you open. "Teach me now?"

If she wasn't so Type A maybe she'd have lingered, but alas, Wanda had tasks to do. Besides, there was nothing wrong with leaving something for her new lover to look forward to. "Oh honey, I can't. Not now, I have to get dinner started before nap time's over."

"Please, I can be quick?" Whines echoed from your lips to her exposed sternum where you'd been laying your latest set of kisses. Truly you were merely going off how fast you'd brought yourself to orgasm while thinking of Wanda in the past; it never took long once your brain wandered to how pretty you think she'd look laid out on display, one hand teasing her full breasts and the other working tirelessly at her clit, needy and calling out your name...

The one time you'd caught her was burned into your memory forever.

"You deserve better than 'quick' for your firsts with me," Someone would think she was kicking you out for good with the fuss you were making, wiggling and grinding into her open palm before she wrenched it away. Wanda gave you one last proper kiss, tongue licking over your lips to apologize for the red swell she'd caused in them, and then she was up like it was nothing, standing and stretching, ignoring your fruitless pawing.

A nuzzle and tug of your hair settled you, the subtle dominance reminding you to behave. "Be a good girl and stay for dinner, I'm making your favorite. If you want, you can stay over too; Billy and Tommy have been begging for a sleepover with their favorite babysitter."

"As long as you don't make me eat brussel sprouts again," You would've stayed anyways; you always used any excuse you could to stay near her. Sleeping over wasn't new really, having fallen asleep on the couch numerous times when watching the twins and groggily waking to Wanda tucking a thick blanket over you and, if she thought you were snoozing, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You weren't technically their babysitter, just a neighbor who'd clung to Wanda since the day she showed up at your door with a charming smile and welcome basket. With how much you loved hanging out with the pair of five year olds, it was natural Wanda ask you to watch them for an afternoon here or there and you can't think of a time you'd ever denied her requests. Even when it meant sleeping in your crush's living room and trying not to touch yourself to the thought of Wanda sleeping -or not sleeping- in a bed right above your head.

Today though, something in her voice led you to believe you'd be somewhere cozier than the couch. If your mouth didn't get you in trouble first. "You know, most girls wouldn't make me wait hours... are you sure we can't-"

"I'll make you wait days if it means you'll learn patience." Wanda hummed, bending over to hold your face in her hands, admiring your comically blown pupils and rosy cheeks, "If you ever think about letting anyone else come close to touching your greedy little pussy, you'll both have hell to pay. Got it?"

Her tone was so serious, deadly straight expression letting on just how much she meant what she said, but as she scratched behind your ears, you melted. Lovestruck face willingly on display while you agreed, shamelessly ogling the view of her tits while Wanda was folded over, there was no way you'd fuck this glorious opportunity up now. "Never ever, promise."

[jophiel-extras]

Pining Ken headcanons

summary :: random hcs for Ken pining over you

warning :: none

reader’s gender :: fem implied

Tries his hardest to present cool and suave as much as possible. He’s only able to get away with it occasionally because he’s fit and handsome.

His placid front can often crumble when you show the slightest bit of affection towards him.

If you throw a compliment his way, Ken will often fumble over himself and recover with a settled smoulder that tries to hide his ruffled flush.

He believes his crush is hidden quite well, but it’s clear to most other Barbies and Kens that he’s head over heals.

To cover all his bases, Ken will show his affection with all the five love languages.

Words of affirmation is easy, too easy. Ken had always filled your ears with mundane but constant compliments to keep your head high. “I love your hair today.” Or “That dress looks great!”

Acts of service is another easy one, Ken will do whatever trivial tasks to make your day flow that much smoother.

Gift giving was a little harder, but it was easy enough to buy you the latest pink trends. The way you’d croon a sweet “Thank you, Ken.” After receiving a gift makes his plastic heart beat like a hammer in his throat.

Quality time is a must have. Ken can barely last a day without seeing you.

Physical touch can make Ken anxious. Often times, he’ll hesitate to put his arm around you and if you notice he’ll pull away like lightning.

He may be quite awkward when it comes to his little crush and depending on your level of self awareness his feelings can be easily hidden behind his overzealous confidence.

[uchu-no-bashira]

I can't stay mad at you (NSFW) - Gyomei x BlackFem!Reader.

Authors Note: This was the second half of the fluff. Hope you like it, if you don't I don't care lmfao. Its old, so please excuse the grammar.

TW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Size Kink, Breeding, Dirty Talk, Slight Begging, Dom/Sub, Reader is black cuz I said so.

Gyomei lay under you in your amorous embrace, kissing you like he'd never see you again, listening to the shakiness of your impatient breaths as you try to undo your bra from behind. Your fingers fumble with the hooks, unable to undo them, no thanks to your husband who was creating friction against your exposed clit with the bulge in his pajama pants. He chuckles, trailing his fingers from the top of your spine to the middle of your back.

"Let me do it, my love."

With a single stroke from his dexterous digits, he unsnaps your bra, pulling it off with his teeth and smiling at you. A breathy cackle could be heard from you before you toss the garment to the side and your lips crash into his. Holding each side of his jawline, you fall to your side before pulling him on top of you. He removes his pajama bottoms and briefs, freeing his large cock and laying it atop your already slick folds.

"I need you so bad right now, Gyomei."

"Music to my ears." He tones as he lines himself up slowly, his tip prodding a dripping wet opening. Anxious hips lean into yours, allowing him to slip right into a welcoming tight pussy. Gyomei furrows his eyebrows at the tight fit, letting out a salacious moan. So perfect, he thinks, knowing a man could grow easily addicted to this one feeling and he'd be damned if he wasn't… How lustful of him. He loves the feeling of delicate digits caressing his shoulders and the forlorn whimpers that escape your lips.

Gyomei moves in closer, his lips attentive against your neck and shoulder as a gentle calloused palm rests upon your hip, the other on your cheek. With eager breaths on his palm, he decides to deepen himself. His hips move teasingly, rubbing your quivering walls just right as a sharp breath resounds in his ear due to your newfound fullness. Those same gentle fingers he loves, pushes through his dark silken tresses with one hand while the other latches onto his shoulder. He adorns the way you attempt to ground herself, trying desperately not to unravel too quickly as you take him inch by delicious, thick inch.

The sound of "Gyoumei~" falling undemandingly from your lips with each thrust coerces a "Yes, my love…" from him in the softest tone. It wasn't a question of what you needed, instead it was knowing in that moment, your need was being met with excellence. The tone of his name, that sweet enraptured tone, tells him to stay where he is while pushing deeper. Your voice quivers as his lips line your collarbone hungrily, his thumb swiping gently against your cheek, taking mental note of the flushed hotness of your skin. He couldn't believe this was your reaction to taking him halfway. You had only one word for this experience,

Breathtaking.

"You feel so amazing around me," he whispers in your ear, humming in pleasure from your breathy open-mouthed kisses on his shoulder and the pleasured moans escaping your throat. The way your smaller body writhes under his large frame and the manicured nails gently pressing into his back while his dick disappears into your sloppy, greedy pussy has the man slowly unraveling.

"You sound so beautiful,” He growls, snapping his hips heedfully into your sweet spot, pulling a guttural moan from you as a squelch fills his ears and a thick creamy ring forms at the base of his dick. He couldn't help but release a soft moan as you claw his shoulder blades.

The way your knees tremble against his waist, and the half-coherent repetition of "So good~ Please don't stop!" Has the man love-drunk on your sounds. The hand on your waist glides down your thigh before resting behind your knee and he smiles at the way your chest rises and falls while he glides his tongue down frivolously to your nipple. He savors the salty taste of your pleasure, swirling around your areola, sucking gently to steadily pull the knot in your stomach free.

"Ah~… Gyou–mei." He doesn't miss that hitch in your breath and the small whimper that follows. He knows you're close, the pulling of his hair and the arching of your back can attest to that. He loves the goosebumps on your skin, he loves your haggard breaths and the way your lip quivers anticipatedly as he traces your skin with his tongue from your nipple. He places multiple butterfly kisses to the base of your jaw, hips moving in and out impulsively while being squeezed between your clenching walls. A soft whimper catches his attention as he thrusts slowly for a moment.

"Just... Like that~…" You're holding on by a thread, feeling a familiar pressure build deep inside as you bit your lip. Seeing stars, your eyes roll absentmindedly to the back of your skull, head tilting, hips rolling, mouth beginning to hang agape. Toes curling, thighs squeezing, back arching, mind numbing, voice rising, brows furrowed, nerves screaming…

You're unraveling and Gyomei doesn't ignore the signs at all, bringing a soft smile to his face as you make a soft squealing noise. He had you right where he wanted you: Desperate for release. His teeth graze your neck, then sink into your supple flesh as the hand on your cheek caresses your body up and down, memorizing every dip, scar and curve in your body. He could hear your heart pounding and your shaken breaths, could feel the way your nails pressed into his skin, but most and best of all he could feel the overwhelming aura of love radiating from your body.

“Gonna c-cum Gyo~” You whisper softly as his hand begins moving back to your breast to roll your pert nipple between his fingers, instantly snapping that thread that was holding you together as he tones deeply,

"Cum for me."

He listens intently to the overwhelming gush of your pussy, your pleasured cries; "Right there! Yes!OhGodYES! GYOUMEI!" The jerking of your body, The beautiful bloom of your orgasm.

Such a stimulating sensation has him filling your pussy to the brim, groaning domineeringly into your ear until cum overflows from the sides. He knows you've made such a pretty mess for him based on your pleasured wailing, but this warmth is something euphoric. He doesn't pull out. He won't. He can't get enough of this closeness and he doesn't want it to end, so he supposes he'll steep in this mess… Until you both need to take a shower of course.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Five

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour including toy use. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.6k (I am so sorry)

A/N : This was originally over 7k long so... at least I managed to get it down to under 6k. Tumblr is still only letting me tag five people at a time, so tags will be in comments again.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

MASTER LIST

Chapter Five

Minutes passed, your back against the door, barely breathing, the stuffed beagle clutched to your chest. Eyes closed, you tried to focus on any little sound that might tell you what he was doing, if he was even still out there. Part of you wanted to go to him, to carry on your conversation. To be near him. You’d seen a new side of him and it was enticing as it was frustrating; how could he be so aloof one minute and so sweet the next?

Your thoughts strayed to that night, to the way he’d kissed you and how his body had felt pressed against yours.

Tearing yourself from the door, you moved to your room, creating distance between yourself and temptation. But yet felt like a spring, coiling tighter and tighter with every little thought of him.

Surely he knew what he was doing to you, the effect he had every time he touched you and smiled that damned smile.

You barely knew him but he gave you butterflies. He stole your breath every time his dark eyes found yours.

Fuck. 

You felt like a silly school girl with a crush on the teacher, knowing that it was wrong and nothing could happen. Only, something had already happened. Just the thought of it brought heat to your cheeks and that fluttering feeling to your stomach.

Locking your bedroom door, you let your attention drift to your nightstand. To the top drawer. Cautiously you pulled it open and peeked inside. Embarrassment swelled inside you, reminding you why you’d been trying so hard to ignore it. 

It was as full as any other drawer in the room. No expense had been spared. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what half of the toys were for. Some you could guess but others were a little more confusing. All different shapes, colours and sizes. Some so large they looked downright painful.

Frustrated, you slammed the drawer shut.

You weren’t a virgin but you didn’t consider yourself experienced. Sex for you had been awkward fumbles with guys you’d grown up with, shameful moments that often ended in disappointment. Dates had been approved by your parents, and no one they approved of wanted sex unless it could be used to force an engagement.

But, now that you had the opportunity to experience new things, you didn’t even know where to start. Despite your age, you felt like a naive child.

Changing into your PJs you fell into bed, TV distracting you from thoughts of Billy and having dinner with him. When you finally settled to sleep, you pulled the stuff beagle to your chest again and realised that you could spell the faintest hint of his cologne on it. And, all you could think about as you drifted off, was how it would feel to fall asleep in his arms.

Panic gripped you the moment you woke, a thousand anxious thoughts about the evening to come filling your head. You didn’t know what you were going to wear or how you’d manage to make it through an evening without saying anything stupid.

You tried to read over breakfast but you couldn’t concentrate. The tension inside you, the desire that you didn’t know how to suppress, seemed to wind tighter and tighter until you couldn’t sit still.

Taking a cold shower didn’t help either. Instead, the cold water reminded you of his touch and, suddenly, it felt like his hands were all over your body, touching you and caressing you in ways that drove you crazy.

Returning to your bedroom wrapped in a towel, you threw yourself onto the bed, the frustration boiling over. 

He’d suggested talking, getting to know each other, but how were you going to do that when you couldn’t focus? How could you have dinner with him when all you could think about was him kissing you?

You realised there was only one thing you could do.

Closing your eyes, you fumbled with the top drawer of the nightstand, reaching in and pulling out the first toy your hand fell on. You took a few deep breaths before looking at it; blue silicone with a slight curve, not big enough to be intimidating but it still made your cheeks warm. A little button at the base caused it to vibrate.

Oh fuck.

You took a few more deep breaths, knowing you had to at least try. Parting your legs, you slipped the still-vibrating toy between your thighs.

Your breath hitched at the first little touch. The second touch was firmer, pressing the tip against your clit. Oh. It felt good, better than any pleasure your fingers were capable of creating. Biting your lip, you tried to keep from moaning, as the pleasure quickly started to mount inside you. You turned it off, knowing you needed more, you needed everything.

Gingerly, you reached between your thighs, feeling how wet you were before guiding the toy to your entrance. A low, gasped moan escaped you as you began to slowly slip it inside you.

Letting your head fall back on the pillow, you tried not to think too much about what you were doing, instead finding your mind drifting somewhere far more dangerous. To thoughts of him. And the more you thought about Billy, the better it felt. Soon enough, your eyes were closed and you were imagining him on top of you; the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress and his dark eyes fixed on you as he fucked you. You were certain that he’d know exactly what he was doing, that a night with him would be better than anything you’d experienced before.

“Billy,” you moaned softly, remembering the kiss, remembering the way he’d made you feel wanted. It became harder to hold back the sounds that were desperate to escape you as you descended further into the fantasy, moving the toy a little faster.

Your free hand reached for the first thing it could find, bringing the stuffed beagle to your lips to stifle your moans. Suddenly all you could smell was his cologne and it was almost enough to push you over the edge. 

Finally, you turned the vibrator back on and came almost immediately.

“Mr Russo,” you keened softly into the stuffed toy, every gasped breath filling your nostrils with his scent.

Your cheeks burned with shame the moment it was over, but you kept the toy inside you, imagining him as the sort of man who’d take his time before pulling out, making sure you were finished.

Suffice to say, you were mortified once you’d dropped the toy to the floor and your heart rate had started to slow.

It didn’t feel right, in fact it felt awful, like you’d used him for your pleasure without permission. But, you finally felt better. The tension was gone. You could finally relax and spend the rest of the day finishing The Picture of Dorian Gray, hoping it would give you and Billy something to talk about.

You drew blood early, getting it out of the way so you could spend an obscene amount of time obsessing over what to wear. Eventually, you settled on a casual little black dress that wasn’t over the top, but made it look like you’d made an effort. After tying back your hair, you put on some natural looking make-up, hoping it would give you a little more confidence.

And, when you finally stepped out into the penthouse, you could have sworn you saw his breath catch.

Billy was dressed more casual than you’d ever seen him, wearing a red sweater and dark jeans. A look that definitely worked for him. He watched from the sofa as you made your way towards him.

“You look lovely,” he said and your heart stuttered.

Glancing down at yourself, you bit your lip, feeling like it was too much. “We usually only have take out on special occasions back home, so...” you shrugged.

“I feel a little under-dressed,” he joked.

“You always look nice,” you remarked before realising what you’d actually said. “I mean... you always dress very nicely.”

“My tailor will be glad to hear you say that,” he smiled as you sat. “The food should be here soon. I hope you don’t mind that I ordered the fixed menu.”

“That’s fine.” If anything it made it easier; you wouldn’t have to worry about the food list.

“Wine?” He offered and you nodded eagerly, despite not being much of a drinker. “Is Riesling okay?” You weren’t sure so you nodded again.

The bottle and glasses were already on the table, in fact his was already half-empty. He filled a glass and you leaned to take it from him, your fingers brushing against his and, for a second, he didn’t let go.

“You smell nice,” he muttered, his gaze lingering as your cheeks warmed. You hadn’t put on perfume, so you assumed it must be your vanilla body wash. “How’s your hand?” He asked a moment later with a touch more reluctance.

Holding it up, you showed him the gauze bandaid across your palm. “It’s fine. Nearly healed.”

Billy nodded, his guilt obvious. But, thankfully, he didn’t say anything else on the matter.

“I finished Dorian Gray,” you told him, stopping an awkward silence from falling.

“Oh? And what did you think in the end?” He asked, crossing his legs so he could turn more towards you.

“I’m not sure yet. It was a lot to take in.” You shrugged. “He did some horrible things; especially to Sybil and poor Basil, but some of it wasn’t all that bad? And then when he tried to change, Henry made him feel bad about it.” You took a breath, feeling the weight of his scrutiny on you. “I get that it’s a cautionary tale about excess and hedonism, but I don’t think anyone should be punished for trying to enjoy themselves...”

“It was a different time,” Billy offered, still completely focused on you. “Dorian’s hedonism damaged almost everyone unlucky enough to fall under his spell.”

“I know, I just...” you let out a huff, not sure how to articulate what you wanted to say. “I think if he’d been given the opportunity, he could’ve changed for the better.”

“That’s very optimistic of you.”

He said optimistic but you were certain that he meant naive.  

“I still don’t understand why you like it.”

“Well, it’s -” he was cut short by the sound of a buzzer before the elevator doors slid open. “Saved by the bell,” he remarked, grinning as he got to his feet to go collect the food from the doorman and tip him.

While Billy got the food, you made your way to the dining table, taking your glasses and the bottle with you. Places were already set and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you noticed the candles. Realistically, he was probably just trying to make things nice but, in your mind, all you could think about was how it seemed intimate. 

You took a seat and a long sip of wine while Billy unpacked the food, almost covering the whole table. The smell was enough to make your stomach grumble. Once everything was on the table, Billy dimmed the lights with his phone and lit the candles.

“Dig in,” he told you, starting to fill his own plate.

You started with the things you knew you liked, taking a little and starting to eat, but it wasn’t long before you found your attention drifting to him, watching through your lashes. You watched him eat, watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, the way he licked his lips.

“What?” He asked, fighting back a grin. Your gaze dropped to your place and your cheeks started to burn. “It’s okay, you can ask.”

“What’s it like? When you eat, I mean,” you asked softly, knowing it really wasn’t any of your business.

“Same as when you do,” Billy offered without seeming to care, “only flavours are muted and it never makes me feel full.”

“Oh,” you looked up and instantly felt bad.

“What’s that look for?

“What look?”

“You get this look sometimes, like something I’ve said has made you sad. Like you feel sorry for me.”

“It’s not that,” you tried to explain, “I just... I can’t imagine not being able to enjoy things like food and sunsets.”

“It’s not that I can't enjoy them,” he shrugged again, “I just enjoy them less than I did when I was human.”

“Do you miss being human?” You asked before realising how inappropriate it was. You shook your head. “I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t’ve -”

“No, it’s fine,” he answered, reaching for his glass and taking a long, slow drink. “I do miss it. This - this wasn’t something I chose.” 

There was nothing you could say to that. There were questions, yes, but you weren’t entitled to the answers and you didn’t want to risk ruining the evening by asking them. Awkwardly, you reached for your glass and took a drink.

“There’s that look again,” he remarked with a soft smile, “don’t worry, I’ve had enough time to come to terms with what I am now.”

The small talk continued over food, mostly about the food, until you felt like you couldn’t eat another bit. Sinking back in your chair, you closed your eyes and let out a slow exhale. When you looked at Billy again you found him grinning at you as he reached across to top up your glass.

“I didn’t order any dessert but if you’re still hungry I could -”

“Don’t you dare,” you laughed. “But thank you, this was really nice.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” he told you as he refilled your glasses. “I want you to enjoy your time here. I know things got off to a strange start, but I want you to be comfortable here.”

“I am - I mean, I’m trying to be,” you struggled to explain. “I’m still getting used to it, but being able to go out with Karen really helped.”

“She enjoyed meeting you. She found you very interesting,” Billy answered, an indecipherable smile on his lips. “I find you interesting too.”

The comment caused your head to pound a little harder in your chest and your thighs to press together. The lump in your throat kept you from responding. A moment later, he changed the subject.

“Let’s go sit on the sofa,” pushing his chair away from the table. You nodded, pushing back your chair and standing, hesitating when you looked at the mess on the table. “Don’t worry, the maid will deal with it.”

“Maid?” There was a maid?

“She usually comes around 4am,” he answered, waving his hand towards the sofa, indicating that you should go while he got tonight’s blood from the kitchen.

Wine glass in hand, you sat on the sofa, staring out at the twinkling lights of the city and, again, you couldn’t help but think how intimate it all felt. Billy soon joined you, leaving some space between you, but not much - even less when you folded your legs beneath you and turned towards him.

“So,” he started with a smile, “what do you want to know?”

What followed was a long conversation about Billy, finding out what you could. He’d been a vampire for fifteen years; in his human life he’d been a Marine and, now, he ran a private security firm that mostly catered to vampire clientele. He was born and raised in New York but had no family. And he was wealthy enough that he simply laughed when you asked about the credit card in your name.

Then, he turned the spotlight on you.

You explained that you were from the Midwest, a little middle-of-nowhere town, and that your family were part of an insular, conservative community. You’d spent the last few years helping homeschool some of the local children, but you’d decided you’d wanted a change. You’d wanted to see the world and experience new things. He didn’t ask why you’d taken the job, and you didn’t offer the information, instead you tried to make it seem like everything was simple and happy in your life. 

All the while, his eyes stayed fixed on you, as he sipped your blood.

“Does it unsettle you?” He asked suddenly. “Seeing me drink your blood?”

“N-no,” you tried to speak around the lump in your throat, “I don’t mind.”

“But you have questions?”

“Some?” You answered and Billy gave a nod, indicating you could ask if you wanted. “The other day, when you mentioned it was still warm, is that...” you couldn’t bring yourself to finish.

“It’s better, yes,” his voice dropped to a low whisper, tongue running over his lips. “It’s like drinking from the source.”

“And is that...” Again, you couldn’t finish, feeling breathless just at the thought.

“I don’t bite. You never have to worry about that.” But the way he was looking at you said something else entirely.

“Good,” you finally manage to take a breath, “I don’t want to be bitten... or turned...”

Billy simply nodded.

“What can you taste when you drink my blood?” You asked, remembering what he’d said about knowing you hadn’t been sleeping or eating. “You said you can tell certain things from it?”

“Hormonal changes can affect how it tastes,” he offered.

“That’s why you want me to keep healthy and eat right?”

“Yes, it makes your blood taste better, but it’s also because I don’t want you getting sick. I’m not entirely heartless,” he smiled.

Silence fell and Billy took another drink. The care he took not to waste a single drop had your heart beating faster and, this time, when he noticed you watching, you didn’t look away. You couldn’t look away. Maybe the wine had helped lower your inhibitions, or maybe you were starting to feel more comfortable with him. Whatever it was, the moment didn’t end until he’d finished the whole glass.

Billy licked his lips again, and you noticed his gaze drop to the neckline of your dress as you took deeper breaths trying to calm your racing heartbeat, causing your breasts to awkwardly rise and fall. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and your eyes dropped to the empty glass in his hand, now resting on his lap and - fuck, your eyes snapped back up awkwardly, the moment you noticed the way his pants were tented. He was hard. 

“I, uh -” you started, getting to your feet, “- I need a glass of water.” 

You didn’t wait for a response before heading to the kitchen, giving him space to deal with whatever that was. Your heart was still pounding uncomfortable, your hands shaking as you found a clean glass and started to run the cold tap. Filling it, you took a slow drink, hoping to drown the butterflies in your stomach.

You didn’t hear him move, didn’t realise he was right behind you until his hand came to rest on the edge of the counter beside yours, his cold thumb brushing over your pinkie. Your breath caught as his shadow swallowed yours on the wall, and your cheeks continued to burn. Desire and embarrassment warred inside you, but Billy didn’t speak until you did.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing without your consent,” he answered softly, against your ear.

He inhaled slowly, his nose inches from your hair. Then came that low, restrained groan. He sounded like a caged animal, desperate to be released, and you realised you were the one holding the keys.

For a second, you remained frozen, knowing that he was giving you a choice. It was a bad idea to complicate things between you, but some part of you wanted this, wanted him. Suddenly all you could think about were the fantasies you’d played out with the vibrator that morning.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stepped back, pressing yourself against him.

His hand twitched, his thumb covering your pinkie, holding it.

“Say yes,” he near-demanded, wanting your unequivocal consent, his lips ghosting your ear with every word. “I need you to say you want this.”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I want this.”

A split-second later, his hand was on your stomach, pulling you back against him, letting you feel the hard press of his cock against your lower back. His lips moved to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin in a way that made your heart race faster. And you quickly realised how much Billy liked that.

“That’s right, little hummingbird,” he groaned, moving his hand to palm your breasts over your dress. “Fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy all night.”

All you could offer was a whimper in response, breath catching as his hand started to slip down your body, reaching beneath your dress. Cold fingers trailed up your bare thighs, causing a shiver of delight to run up your spine and for heat to pool between your thighs.

His knee pressed gently between yours, urging your legs apart, letting his hand move higher. You bit your lip and tried to stifle a moan when you felt his fingertips against the wet fabric of your panties, but holding back anything became impossible the moment his cold fingers slipped inside. His touch was light to begin with, teasing, fingers stirring between your folds, drawing a gasp from you. A low growl vibrated through his chest as he coated his fingers in your arousal, his touches getting more pronounced the wetter you got.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as his lips and fingers continued their assault on your senses. You didn’t even notice his hand move from the counter until you felt his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling gently to turn your face enough so he could kiss you. His tongue against the seam of your lips was almost enough to distract you from his finger slowly easing its way between your walls. You whimpered and moaned against his lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, keeping you in the kiss until every inch of his finger was buried inside of you.

“Fuck, hummingbird,” he groaned, a dangerous glint in his eyes and a grin on his lips. You moaned as his finger flexed inside you, slowly starting to withdraw before pushing in again. “Don’t come. That’s the only rule you have to follow right now; don’t come until I say you can. Can you do that?”

“I -” you could barely think to answer.

“If you can’t, I’ll stop,” he warned, his finger stilling and causing you to keen at the loss of sensation.

“Yes,” you moaned.

Your relief was palpable the moment he started to move again. The fingers in your hair, tugging softly so his lips could return to your neck. It didn’t feel real. It felt amazing in a way you couldn’t comprehend. Your heart raced faster when you felt him start to press a second, cold finger inside you, and you realised you were gripping his thigh. Hard. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he groaned against your neck. “Practically dripping all over my hand,”

The words alone were enough to cause you to clench around his fingers, letting you feel them more acutely as they started to move a little faster, fucking you to the knuckle each and every time.

“Billy, please...” you pleaded, not sure you could take much more.

“Not yet,” he groaned, his lips against your ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe in a way that made everything so much harder for you. “It’ll feel so good if you just wait.”

You wanted to wait, to play his game, but how could you when it already felt so good? You felt yourself on the precipice, every muscle tensing, your slick walls tightening and gripping his fingers. Your eyes closed tight and you almost felt ashamed of yourself, like you were going to ruin the moment because you couldn’t control yourself.

His fingers stilled again just before you could go over the edge.

“Not yet,” he told you, voice calm but commanding. “Just breathe. Let me be in control.”

You managed a weak nod before he pulled you back into another kiss, fingers staying perfectly still for a few moments, not moving again until he felt you start to relax. This time his fingers moved in shallow thrusts, bending inside you, pressing against your soft inner walls like he was searching for something.

Your whole body shuddered when he found it and you saw stars.

“Does that feel good?” He asked and you nodded, unable to do anything but moan when his fingertips brushed against the same spot. “That’s it, little hummingbird, sing for me.”

More moans slipped from your lips, each more desperate than the last, your fingers digging into his thigh through his jeans.

“Billy, I-I need to...” you begged, words fracturing into another cry of pleasure.

“Do you need to come?” 

“Y-yes!”

“Say it,” his commanding voice sending a thrill down your spine and right to your core.

“I-I need to come,” you pleaded, feeling more brazen than you had in your whole life. You’d never been the sort to beg to come, but the thought of it thrilled you almost as much as his fingers inside of you.

“Then come for me.”

Your reaction was instantaneous, so much so that you had to wonder if it was because you’d needed to come or simply because he’d demanded it. Your body started to tremble and shake, your walls clenching around his fingers as they continued to move inside you, and the sounds you were making - if you hadn’t felt completely out of your mind, you would have been embarrassed by the desperate noises.

As you came you barely noticed his hand slip from your hair to press against your chest, resting over your racing heart. Your head turned and his lips quickly claimed yours, swallowing down your moans, his fingers still dragging out your orgasm until your legs felt so weak you weren’t sure you’d be able to stand without his arms around you.

Without warning, Billy's hand slipped from between your legs and he swept you off your feet, carrying you back to the sofa. He sat back with you on his lap, holding you close, your body trembling so much that you worried it would never stop. It felt like he’d broken something inside of you and your body didn’t know how to process all the pleasure he’d created.

Being on his lap didn’t help, but it would have been a lie to say you hated the feeling of his arm wrapped possessively around you and his hand resting on your bare thigh. You curled against him, your head on his chest as you slowly caught your breath. 

Billy’s lips pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as you finally started to sill.

“Are we going to -”

“Not tonight,” he answered, not needing you to finish the question. “I’m not going to rush you.”

Even though he was still hard, he didn’t want anything else. You weren’t sure if it was a rejection or if he really didn’t want to rush you, but it left you feeling even more uncertain.

When you found the nerve to lift your head, he gave you a gentle smile, his fingers squeezing your thigh tenderly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Any conversation felt like it would be for your benefit rather than his. Billy seemed perfectly comfortable with what had just happened.

“Thank you,” you told him softly.

“For what?” Both confused and amused by the comment.

“For - for asking first,” your voice broke a little.

His gaze darkened, an unasked question on his lips. He was angry, not at you but at what the comment implied. Thankfully, he didn’t ask, didn’t push for an explanation you didn’t want to offer.

“You always have a choice here,” he reminded you. “You can always say no to this. I’ll never hold it against you.”

You stayed silent for a beat. “What if I don’t want to say no?”

“Then I’ll make sure you enjoy your time here with me.”

“But that’s all it’ll be?”

“Yes,” he answered, “I won’t pretend I can offer you more than that.”

“Okay, good. I-I don’t want anything serious.” The comment earned a strange smirk from him. “What?”

“I just didn’t expect you to want anything so casual. You’re constantly surprising me.”

“I -” you paused, biting your lip, “- I want to have fun. I want to experience the things I’ve been missing out on.”

“That’s something I’d be more than happy to help with, hummingbird,” he told you, smiling that cocky smile, making you want to melt.

“I’ve never...” you trailed off and saw his eyebrow raise, “I mean I’ve never done anything like... friends with benefits?”

“I thought I was paying you for your blood, not your friendship?” He smirked, recalling the terrible comment you’d made when you’d been angry with him. Then he shrugged. “It’s simple; we hang out and, if you want me to touch you, I’ll touch you. We’re just two adults having fun with an equal say in what happens.”

“Even when you give me rules to follow?” A shiver running up your spine as you remember the way he’d commanded and you’d obeyed.

“I told you, I like to be in control. But if it doesn’t work for you, there are no consequences.” He fell silent for a moment, the smirk on his lips seeming to grow. “Unless you want consequences.”

All you could do was nod, not daring to ask what kind of consequences he might have in mind.

“I have a rule too,” you dared to say.

“Oh?”

“You can’t lie to me.”

Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that but he quickly conceded. “That’s fair. As long as you follow my rule, I’ll follow yours - even when you’re in bed with your vibrator.”

Your heart almost stopped and your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment. 

“How did you -” you could barely get the words out, completely mortified.

“You moaned my name,” Billy continued, not in the least bit embarrassed. He’d heard you across the penthouse. “All I could think about over dinner was how wet you must have been and the way you moaned when you came.” His hand moved to your cheek, making sure your gaze didn’t drop in embarrassment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve jerked off, but listening to you had me coming all over my hand.”

Biting your lip, embarrassment and shame filled you, but Billy still wouldn’t let you look away. His thumb grazed your lip and left you speechless.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he told you, “those toys are yours to use whenever you need to, as long as you remember that your orgasms are mine now.”

You weren’t used to anyone being so candid but, you had to concede, it was exactly what made Billy the best person to help you experience new things. He knew what he was doing and he wasn’t shy about what he wanted.

“I’m not embarrassed,” an obvious lie that Billy decided not to call you on. “Things like that just aren’t exactly acceptable where I’m from.”

“Was that your first time pleasuring yourself - or was it your first time using a vibrator?” He asked, sounding like he was enquiring about something utterly mundane.

“Using a vibrator,” you answered, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Well, you never have to feel ashamed of doing anything that makes you feel good while you’re here,” he told you with enviable confidence. 

“Like Dorian Gray?” You offered with the smallest of smiles.

Billy let out a huff of laughter. “Does that make me your Lord Henry?”

“Only if you plan on leading me astray,” you answered back.

“Oh, little hummingbird,” he smiled, leaning towards you, “you’ve got no idea.” Before you could answer, his lips were on yours again.

Minutes ticked by with his lips on yours, enjoying everything about the moment, about him. When he finally pulled away, you let out a content sigh, smiling as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“So, this rule of yours... I take it you have a question, something you want me to answer honestly?”

You were quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Have you ever done this before, with someone living here like me?”

“No, not like this,” he answered instantly, and it was good enough for you.

As he pulled you close again, you found yourself yawning, exhaustion catching up with you. Billy checked his watch.

“Looks like I’ve kept you up past your bedtime,” he joked, sitting forward and helping you to your feet. “We can continue getting to know each other tomorrow night, if you’d like.”

You nodded, barely even noticing that the pair of you were moving until you found yourself at the door to your rooms. His weight shifted from left to right, and you knew without looking that he was still hard. Your fingers tangled with his sweater at his waist and, for a few seconds, you just looked at him. Billy gave you a smile before pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Goodnight, little hummingbird. And remember, I’ll know if you break the rules.”

Biting your lip again, you nodded, and finally pulled yourself away from him and slipped through the door. 

End Note : I never know what to say after the spicier chapters so... hope you enjoyed this and it lives up to expectations. Thanks so much for all the genuinely lovely comments and feedback over last four weeks, I'm loving how much people seem to be enjoying this story!! Hope you all have a great weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (Note: Tumblr is currently being stupid and only letting me tag five people at a time, so I'll be tagging people in the comments. Sorry if you get tagged twice!!)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl @rosey1981

[sylusjinwoon]

This is such a random question but have you ever written a story where the reader goes with jinwoo to the international guild conference(I think thats what its called)

Im not asking you to write it, you’ve already written so much. Its just that you have so many works I struggle to find a specific one

Byeeeeeee! Have a good day/sweet dreams

hey sweetheart! and no, i don’t believe i wrote a story where the reader attends a conference with jinwoo. however, i can help you find a specific jinwoo story that i have personally written to suit your needs! so i have made a summary of every single jinwoo story i have written under the cut with their links ♡ !

1. { sparkle } - first jinwoo story i have ever written told in jinwoo’s POV where he realizes he’s in love with reader

2. { 3RR0R } - where the system shows jinwoo that his soulmate is not cha hae-in

3. { pillowtalk } - reader speaks to jinwoo about her love for him while he sleeps.

4. { season’s call } - reader is constantly under protection from jinwoo’s shadow soldiers.

5. { hold me like a grudge } - investigator!jinwoo protects the reader while hiding a secret from her.

6. { surround you } - jinwoo is away on a business trip, leaving reader alone as she muses on how much she misses him.

7. { like you do } - reader is a young woman living in the real world who gets the chance to live out her dreams of being with jinwoo in his world.

8. { butterfly kisses } - reader comforts jinwoo during a bad day.

9. { love letter of flowers } - florist! reader and s-rank hunter! jinwoo fall in love 💐

10. { slow dancing in the dark } - reader sees jinwoo dancing with hae-in and feels envious.

11. { boyfriend headcanons } - general fluff headcanons

12. { arise } - reader is resurrected as one of jinwoo’s shadow soldiers due to a tragic event.

13. { rose-colored boy } - jinwoo takes care of a sick and feverish reader.

14. { sands of time } - academy arc; reader can’t stand jinwoo and lowkey hates him… or does she?

15. { light in the darkness } - antares!jinwoo basks in the reader’s softness.

16. { tiptoe } - reader is kept hostage as potential leverage, but it fails when jinwoo brutally attacks her captors to teach them a lesson.

17. { snooze } - reader loves to humble jinwoo by calling him dorky nicknames.

18. { enough is enough } - reader and jinwoo get into an argument.

19. { motherland } - jinwoo comforts reader after her failures.

20. { love me for me } - reader can’t stand being second best to her sister, hae-in.

21. { follow you } - reader becomes anxious at work due to a persistent co worker who can’t leave her alone…

22. { house of gold } - jinwoo fumbles his proposal LMAO

23. { headfirst for halos } - first yandere jinwoo fic.

24. { penpal } - academy arc; jinwoo wishes to get closer to his beloved reader.

25. { proud to be yours } - jinwoo makes a huge announcement during a press conference.

26. { the dark knight } - reader is a capable hunter who can’t stand it when jinwoo purposely prevents her from attending raids.

27. { musings for yandere jinwoo } - more yandere stuff

28. { moonlight } - jinwoo becomes captivated by reader when she calls him a strangely unique nickname.

29. { anomaly } - reader gets isekai’d into the world of solo leveling.

30. { of gifts and curses } - jinwoo muses how his strength and power are for the sake of protecting his beloved…

31. { reader inserts } - reader gets emotionally scarred after reading a painful reader insert.

32. { too sweet } - jinwoo falls in love with a reader who is the embodiment of sunshine.

33. { peaches } - a love story between jinwoo and the reader whom he has always loved.

34. { the only exception } - yandere jinwoo who falls head over heels for reader at first sight, willing to do anything to keep her by his side.

35. { selfish } - jinwoo being a jealous bby 🥰

36. { belong to you } - 100% jinwoo spice / thirst post

37. { touch starved } - jinwoo tries to woo (lmao) the reader and win her heart ♡

38. { cry for me } - another thirst post based on an ask ♡

39. { lover is a day } - comfort fic for jinwoo

40. { heartbreak feels so good } - reader is embarrassed with having a one night stand with jinwoo and wishes to forget. unfortunately for her, jinwoo wants nothing more than to remember and finally claim reader as his.

41. { marked by you } - more thirst posts for jinwoo

42. { the prince and the pauper } - historical romance / fairytale au with prince jinwoo sung and a commoner reader

43. { darling } - a yandere story with a twist. yandere jinwoo and yandere hae-in are deeply in love with the reader and would kill each other just to have you all to themselves…

44. { company } - lmaoo reader keeps friendzoning jinwoo, and he hates it.

45. { autobiography } - reader is an author that wants to write jinwoo's biography; what more can i say? 🥰

46. { perfect } - 18+ only, another thirst post for jinwoo

47. { saturn } - will jinwoo learn to love the reader’s true self hidden beneath a cheerful façade?

48. { slow it down } - boy next door jinwoo! what more can i say 🤭🥰

49. { that green gentleman (things have changed) } - single dad! jinwoo x daycare worker! reader

50. { god is a woman } - 18+ thirst post / drabble

51. { the admirer } - jinwoo loves to annoy the reader to capture her attention

52. { not a want but a need } - 18+ thirst drabble

53. { marry me } - the title says it all, really 🤭

54. { your heart belongs to me } - another 18+ thirst post

55. { the haunted one } - academy arc story where reader can see jinwoo’s shadow soldiers and becomes terrified of him.

56. { me + you } - another cute academy arc story where reader is struggling with math and jinwoo tutors her

57. { of painful auras and cute boys } - university au; reader has a migraine and needs to be saved;;; but by who ;3c

[slayagami]

wedding day with izuku, katsuki, & shoto !

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° m.list ! ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° mha m.list ! ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° enjoy !

i. midoriya

ִֶ𓂃⊹ ִֶָ izuku 100% could not sleep the night before

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ would arrive to the venue with you extra early to help decorate and prepare

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his groomsmen were bakugo, todoroki, shinsou, and iida

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ best man was def todoroki

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he got ready with his groomsmen, ranting anxiously to ida and shinsou, hoping that the wedding today would go to plan and be everything you wished for

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ right before the ceremony, he stood tall and proud with his back towards you, hands fumbling as he waited for the reveal. you stood behind him, wedding dress shining under the natural sunlight and giving you an ethereal glow

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you patted his shoulder, giving him the 'ok' to turn around. nervously, he spun his body and locked eyes with yours, green orbs tracing your face that wore natural makeup, down to the beautiful dress you picked months prior after your engagement

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his eyes grew teary, hugging you tightly and crying into the crook of your neck. hands glided down your back, feeling the silky material, mumbling how gorgeous you looked and how lucky he was to be marrying you today

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your eyes watered, hugging your soon-to-be husband back and a hand to trace his fluffy locks. you kissed the side of his head, pulling him to look at you. your hand caressed his face, smiling stupidly in love

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ izuku wore a dark green tuxedo. it was almost black in normal lighting, but once the sun engulfed his figure, the tuxedo shone in a marvelous dark green, almost emerald color that brought out his features. his broach on his chest was a pink carnation, and his pin to his tie was silver.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he looked so handsome to you, your heart growing warm and in awe. your sweet boy, was finally going to be (officially) the love of your life. through thick and thin, hell and back, in sickness and in health, life and death. your last name was now going to be midoriya

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ not far off, the groomsmen and bridesmaids watched from a distance, taking pictures and videos, bottom lips puckered out from the cute scene

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you both read your vows in secret, saving you both the tears from your conjoined family and friends in the room. with the say from the marriage officiant, you both shared your kiss as people cheered and cried, clapping to celebrate

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your first dance was to 'make you feel my love' by adele, you both singing to each other like you were the only ones in the room, crying softly in the lyrics

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‘i could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love’

k. bakugo

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ katsuki is the type to keep a calm face but be so fucking anxious on the inside

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ constantly checks himself out in the mirror to make sure nothing is out of place, black suit hugging his broad shoulders and small waist nicely

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his groomsmen consists of kirishima as his best man (obviously), kaminari, and sero. maybe midoriya, if it was later in the years and he actually came to terms with him, but i don’t think he would go out of his way and ask

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he promised he wouldn’t cry, not wanting to be embarrassed in front of quite literally everyone.. but as soon as your song queued the moment you walked in, wedding dress enveloping you in a warm hug with a bright smile on your face, his eyes immediately glossed over

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ of course, he’d try to blink them away and use this time that all eyes were on you to be rid of his water works.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his voice was shaky saying the ‘i do’s, but nobody else could tell besides you. i mean, he is your husband (finally)

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ kissing in front of the venue was the least of his worries, he could kiss you all day if he wanted, no matter who was looking. definitely held your waist tightly and pulled you to him, a passionate yet loving kiss being shared between the two of you

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your first dance was to ‘the only exception’ by paramore, one of the first intimate songs that played in the car at midnight after your date in high school, feeling a strong hold and connection to this song

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he held you close, swaying to the song with his face in your shoulder, humming softly along the words with you. tears slowly streamed from your face, while a huge and dorky smile was on his. though, he used your shoulder to cover it from his friends ad family, leaving it only for you to see

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you both had your fair share with love problems. you felt used by others and unappreciated, choosing that being alone was better than trying so hard at love when it never worked

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ and bakugo’s young childhood never gave him the correct sense of love, only deprivation of it. he swore he didnt need to be loved, that he was all he needed

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ until your second year at u.a. when you were paired for a class project, slowly falling into each other’s presence and being. until the trips to his house lasted long after the project, becoming familiar with his family

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you allowed yourself to try and be loved again, knowing full well that this would be katsuki’s first time, and might not know how he’d react in the long run. but loving him was too easy not to try

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he tried hard for you. never raising his voice, refusing to let you open any door, bringing you food when he cooked or leftovers he knew you loved. he’d walk you to school, and walk you home, 100% attentive.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ sure, some acts took longer than others, but you never pushed him to do those things. they were all his choice, his timing, when he was ready and wanted to do so

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your wedding cake was non-traditional, and you both opted for cake pop to pass around, putting one in each others mouth

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‘you are the only exception’

s. todoroki

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ another ‘calm face, malfunctioning brain’ type of guy

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ wore a plain white tuxedo, his undershirt a wine red. his flower combination on his chest being a red and white dahlia

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his groomsmen were midoriya, kirishima, iida, bakugo, and kaminari

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ almost didn't invite his dad, though you persuaded him to let endeavor come anyways

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ as you walked into the venue, his eyes never left yours. walking down the aisle make him smile warmly, sporadic heart calming down. it felt to him like you two were the only ones on the planet

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he held yours hands at the front, repeating back whatever the minister had said, thumbs running across your knuckles to calm your nerves

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ a little.. a LOT embarrassed to kiss you in front of everyone, moving to stand in front of you and block the view (except from the bridesmaids and groomsmen)

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ cheeks were flushed pink as you shared your vows in private, tears flowing down on your end. he held your ands lovingly and kissed your temple, reading his to you with a wobble in his voice

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your first dance was to ‘merry-go-round of life’ from howl’s moving castle. a movie you both favorited. the same movie from your first date where you both laid in the same bed watching from your room

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you two ball-room danced, smiling at each other like fools at the different music choice that held so much emotion and memories

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he refused to leave your side the whole night, holding your hands wherever you went and telling you (whispering) how much he loved you

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he reminded you how gorgeous you looked, eyes never leaving your figure in your dress. he was in complete awe, jokingly asking you to wear it everyday from now on

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your wedding bands were luxury diamonds custom made, a pink diamonds heart in the center with his silver band matching and complimenting yours (the inside was engraved with your marriage date)

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your wedding cake is a red velvet cake with white frosting, a cute mini-figure of the two of you at the top and faux flowers at the base

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ shoto dances with his mother in a mother-son dance

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 3)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Just as Y/N thought she had it all figured out in LA, her world spins out of control when Evan Peters storms in like a tornado. Their electrifying hook-up leaves her reeling, but waking up alone, she fears the worst. Then, a note appears—his number and an invitation to a date teasing her with a chance. What starts as a romantic evening quickly spirals into a frenzy of hide-and-seek and sex.

Warnings ─ Swearing, semi-public, oral (both receiving), doggy, shower sex, overstimulation, fingering, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, extra smutty—you savvy pros, you know the game inside out ;)

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Word count ─ 5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You stir awake, blinking sleep away and squinting against the sunlight that streams through your curtains. A lazy smile curves your lips as you stretch, reaching out for...empty sheets. Mmhh, you just love the taste of nothing.

Evan’s not here... Emotional damage, even if what you had was an agreed one-off fling.

A soft groan escapes you as you fumble for your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 9:30. As you bury your nose into his pillowcase, you inhale deeply, catching a generous whiff of his essence’s sweet residue. You sigh deeply as your eyes land on the bedside table. His missing keys solidify the reality that he’s bounced, and you can’t help but frown.

“I feel like his side hoe when I should be the main character,” you think aloud, grumbling, and it’s giving trauma dumping and anxious attachment. What a refreshing concoction of disaster.

But what really puzzles you is the extra blanket draped over your duvet like a surprise guest. You wrack your brain, trying to recall if you snuggled up in it during the night, but it’s as hazy as trying to piece together a fuzzy Freudian dream.

With a resigned sigh, you roll out of bed, already craving his warmth. Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you distract yourself with social media updates, news snippets, and the day’s weather forecast while you shuffle to the kitchen for your morning caffeine fix. A pang of disappointment hangs around like a lost sock in the dryer, but you refuse to let it dim your day and activate your female rage.

Or so you tell yourself.

Podcast blaring in the background, you tiptoe your way to the bathroom, facing your reflection in the mirror. You impulsively retrace the invisible path of Evan’s touch on you—from lips to chin, jawline, and neck down your cleavage and stomach. Each sensation has left its mark, and you can’t get enough of the sweet echoes. You sniff through your hair and arms in a desperate attempt to capture his scent on you—a tantalising hint of cinnamon and the musk of his natural oils that never fails to make your knees go weak.

You hop into the shower, letting the scalding water wash away your frustrations. Emerging revitalised and ready to conquer the day, you hastily throw on your work clothes and toss your keys and lanyard into your bag.

And that’s when you spot it by the entrance door—the note board. That bold black marker circling today’s 9 pm to 6 am time slot on your shift calendar, an arrow pointing directly to a message, practically winking at you, “Dinner and quality time with Evan. Text this number for more details.” Your heart somersaults with joy as you read the note over and over again, a goofy grin spreading across your face like wildfire.

You press a quick kiss to the note, folding it carefully and tucking it away as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you dash out the door, already fashionably late.

On the subway, you retrieve the scrap of paper, tracing your fingers over his elegant handwriting with a soft smile. With a sarcastic tonality, you already craft your message, “I thought ghosts just floated around, they don’t ask you out.”

Within seconds, his response lights up your screen. “Morning to you too. Slept well? I’m the upgraded phantom version. Meet your Casper tonight at 9?”

You can’t help but giggle at his wit. Another text pops up, complete with coordinates to the restaurant he’s inviting you. The excitement builds inside you like a shaken soda bottle, and you’re practically fizzing with anticipation to see what the night has in store.

Time seems to trudge along at a sloth’s pace as you grind through your shift at the boutique. You flash your best retail smile as you serve customers on the cash register. Though, your mind is a million miles away, replaying the reel of moments with Evan; those moments when you convinced yourself that your insides were gonna spill out while he was going to town on you.

Half-heartedly, you tidy up the shop floor, picking up stray items and straightening displays. But let’s be real, your fingers move mechanically, and your brain is on autopilot as your thoughts wander back to the anticipation of tonight’s date. The enthusiasm is buzzing through you like a sugar rush, making it damn near impossible to focus on folding clothes or rearranging racks.

Each interaction with a customer is a blur as you absentmindedly tackle the fitting room. They might as well be talking to a mannequin for all you care. Your mind is firmly planted in Evan-land, where every moment is hot and heavy, and you’re too busy mentally undressing him for the umpteenth time.

“Girl, let me in your bubble, would you?” The voice of Trisha, your department’s jokester, slices through your daydreaming like a ninja with a chainsaw.

You blink, momentarily disoriented, before bursting into laughter at her impeccable timing. “Trish!” you exclaim, relishing in her knack to crack you up with her quirky humour. “Sorry, this bubble is strictly reserved for someone today.”

Her giggle rings out like music in the store as she playfully rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine! You do you, boo. Just make sure to save some of that magic for the rest of us in Stylista Gine, deal?”

With a saucy wink, she sashays off to attend to her own tasks, leaving you to shake off your giggles. The minutes tick by, and eventually, your shift mercifully comes to an end. With a sigh of relief and a bounce in your step, you clock out, knowing that soon you’ll be back in Evan’s arms (and on his dick).

You hastily trod along Sunset Boulevard, your sleek dark coat swinging with each step, and your little black dress add an extra sway to your stride. You’re practically power-walking in heels, like you’re in a race against time and your destination is the finish line.

Arriving at the hotel he’s staying at, you adjust the strap of your black stilettos around your ankle, ensuring no wardrobe malfunctions with your stocking will disrupt your night. With your heart thudding, you breeze through the sliding doors and past the reception. 

The tantalising scent of watermelon cocktail teases your senses as you strut in the bar restaurant, scoping out the room with mounting anticipation.

“Hi there, reservation for Peters?” you inquire, shooting a charming smile at the host, your racing emotions briefly receding.

Reciprocating with a polite grin, he quickly checks his tablet before nodding in confirmation. “Got it! Table 8. Right this way, miss,” he affirms, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture. 

Following the host, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement as you round the corner and spot Evan’s back at the table. He looks effortlessly handsome in his blazer, like he’s just stepped out of a magazine spread, making your stomach churn with blissful nerves.

“Looks like my date’s here, thanks,” you note quietly with a soft smile.

“Awesome! Enjoy,” the host replies cheerfully, heading back to his post.

As you approach Evan, you lean in and give his shoulder a cheeky squeeze—a silent yet affectionate greeting that speaks volume. His gaze lights up with recognition, and he practically jumps from his chair, his grin widening as he’s eyeing you from top to bottom.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “My eyes needed a bit of a warning for this stunner. Your fit’s so sleek, it looks tailor-made,” he adds shortly after, beaming, as you flow in a warm hug, his arms clinging around you like he never wants to let go.

With a crooked smirk, you blurt out with a touch of sarcasm, “Thanks. I picked it up with you in mind.”

His eyes widen in surprise, his grin expanding by the second. “Seriously?” he squeaks, visually delighted by the notion. 

You giggle, shaking your head. “Nah, but imagine if I did,” you fire back, your hearty laughter dancing in the air like confetti.

Before you know it, an electric tension fills the space between you as you stand mere inches apart, locked in a silent yet smouldering gaze.

“Are we on a ‘try not to kiss’ challenge?” he spills out, his voice an alluring murmur as his minty breath pleasantly prickles your skin.

A sly smile tugs at your lips. “Let’s see who caves and closes the gap first,” you hum as you flicker between his lips and his eyes. He feels the tension coil in his gut but forces it down with a hard gulp. 

Leaning in closer, his breath mingles with yours as he whispers, “You gotta give your best shot not to kiss me, then,” his tone carrying a seductive undertone that sends a delicious thrill rushing through you.

“You wish. No chance I’m smudging my tinted lip balm,” you retort and playfully pinch his nose, punctuating your mocking banter with a wink.

With a graceful flip of your hair and a coy smile, you ease into your chair, feeling the heat of his gaze on you, all self-assured about the sensual spell you’ve cast over him. 

He’s practically eye-fucking you right now, and you’re loving it.

“If that’s your idea of payback for sneaking out this morning, Y/N, I’ve been running errands and exploring new job prospects for next year,” he explains earnestly, handing you a straw for your cocktail and cutlery for your appetisers.

“And I may or may not have picked up a little something for you,” he announces next, pulling out a wrapped box from his blazer pocket, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your playful vibe evaporates, replaced by a whirlwind of shock and emotion. “Shut the…front door, no way,” you utter sheepishly as you cautiously reach for the unexpected gift.

With a throaty chuckle at your reaction, he jerks his eyebrows upwards, silently encouraging you to dive into the gift.

You eagerly rip open the packaging, gasping in disbelief. “Roland Barthes, Mythologies…Oh my days,” you cry out, unable to believe your luck. Your eyes flit to the curious glances from other patrons in the corner, and you swiftly tone your enthusiasm down a notch.

He nods in understanding, smiling fondly at you. “Yep, saw his Lover’s Discourse on your bedside table, and the bookmark was dangling on the final pages,” he justifies, a knowing twinkle in his gaze.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you slide the book in your bag and rise from your seat. “Ugh, Evan! Thanks a ton, you’re the best,” you gush, your voice thick with gratitude as you move closer to him.

He stands up too, his eyes fixed on yours, soft with affection. Stepping closer, his dark eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, as if he’s wordlessly asking for permission. Instead, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but you gently lift his chin and crane your neck, sealing his plush, pink lips in a brief yet tender peck.

As you break the kiss, Evan blinks in surprise, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. His eyes search yours, silently questioning the unspoken feelings that hover between you, his own heart pounding with anticipation.

“Why did that take so long today?” he sighs against your ear, softly touching his lips. His voice, like honey dripping from velvet, resounds in your ears like a melody as he delicately brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes—the colour of rich black chocolate—are glued on yours, and the gravitational pull of his euphoric visual abyss draws you in.

Your heart flutters at the intensity of his gaze, feeling the heat expand through you. “It took long for momentum,” you retort, your tone light with playful teasing as you flash him a coy smile and sit back down.

The buffalo cauliflower bites aren’t the only thing heating up at your table; your conversation’s spicier than a jalapeño popper and with more layers than a double-decker with extra cheese. One minute you’re debating the perfect burrito toppings, embarrassing childhood nicknames, weird dreams, European cinema and 80s bands, and the next, you’re digging into careers, beliefs, goals, and life’s deepest truths.

It’s like a game of emotional Jenga—one block, or in this case, one topic leads to another, and before you could utter ‘Evan, eat me,’ you’ve both laid your souls bare without even realising it.

Fully immersed in the flirtatious banter, Evan beckons invitingly to the seat beside him with a subtle tilt of his head. “Why don’t you slide here, so I can properly admire your outfit?” he mumbles in a husky timbre, his eyes ablaze with desire.

But just as the tension between you ignites like a volcano lava, the waiter interrupts with his timely arrival. “What can I get for you both?” he interjects, shattering the moment. 

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you gesture Evan to go first, shooting him a ‘hold up, let me cook,’ look. With a bold move, you slip off your shoe under the table and discreetly brush your foot against his pant leg.

You feel him stiffen as he places his order, his composure wearing out. Stifling a giggle, you almost sadistically enjoy his flustered state as he clumsily fumbles and drops his menu, the clatter against the plate resonating like a thunderbolt. 

He’s a ten, but he stumbles over his words and over-apologises when aroused in the most inappropriate settings. Take my money, that bumps him up to a solid thirty.  

“Would you like extra cheese with that?” the waiter chimes in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere crackling between you.

Evan nods, swallowing thickly as your foot ventures higher up his thigh, stoking the flames of his growing hardness.

“And you, miss?”

“Eh? Umm, double everything, please. I’ll have what he’s having. Thanks,” you mutter with a half smile, your leg rubbing against his throbbing erection to a fever pitch.

As the waiter marches to the kitchen, Evan clenches his jaw, frustration painted all over his stormy gaze. He bunches his cloth napkin from his lap and tosses it onto his plate, blowing out a sharp, exasperated breath.

“Evan,” you call out with an apologetic expression, watching him push his chair with the backs of his knees and storm off to the bathroom.

You shoulder the heavy door and step into the empty men’s bathroom, your insides wounding themselves in knots. You scan the room, hunting for any trace of Evan, until your gaze lands on the locked door at the end. Curiosity gnaws at you, nudging you to investigate.

With a hesitant knock, you signal your presence. Before you can react, the door swings open, and Evan’s dark eyes greet you from the other side as he pulls you into the room.

The door clicks shut behind you as you quickly take in the gold-hued surroundings: a lavish toilet, a gleaming sink, and a long bench strewn with plush towels and designer toiletries. The place gives you a babushka-esque feel—a mini, fully-equipped restroom within the main one, and it’s like stepping into a VIP sanctuary.

Though, as you register Evan’s proximity, his body pressed flush against yours, your thoughts scatter like marbles on a polished floor, and pleasure sparks sizzle through your veins like a live wire.

“Hey,” you bleat, feeling the tension twist in your gut as you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. 

His strong arms cradle your waist. He draws you into a tight embrace until you’re cocooned on his lap, the heat of his body searing into your skin.

You cross your legs as he closes the distance between you, his veiny hands fondling and squeezing your thighs greedily and possessively. 

“Evan,” you croak out, clearing your throat to ground yourself as he strokes your cheek with his knuckle. “I realise that might have been a bit much for public display…and I’m sorry,” you mumble, flashing him an apologetic look before averting your gaze.

But his expression remains stern, a furrow creasing his brow as he lets out an exaggerated huff—eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line. “That won’t fix it, I’m afraid. I’m still hurt and embarrassed.” 

You quirk a brow at him, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you meet his unwavering stare. “And what do you suggest now?” you challenge with a sly smirk, a daring spark igniting in your face.

His lips curl into a sinister smile as he leans in, his scorching breath against your ear sending a tremor down your backbone. “Get on your knees, and use this beautiful mouth of yours to show me just how sorry you are,” he whispers as he’s massaging your tits, his words like an electric current buzzing through you at a high voltage.

You snort, your hand weaving through his silky hair as you draw him closer. “Oh, you think you’ve won? I’d be more than happy to suck you up—day and night, overtime included,” you purr, your voice husky with longing as you sink to your knees.

Positioned between his legs, you look up at him with a mischievous smile. “Someone’s suffering in there,” you coo and outline his stiff shaft with your tongue, feeling him twitch beneath the smooth fabric, aching for freedom.

Pinned against the wall, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, his hips buckling forward in desperate response.

The button of his slacks loosely holds on, barely containing his throbbing beast from bursting it open. Gripping the cold metal of his zipper between your teeth, you drag it down slowly, your pussy dripping as his low growl rumbles from his chest like distant thunder when he finally finds release.

You reach up, flipping down the elastic waistband of his boxers so you can slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along his pulsing crimson tip.

“Suck it, don’t tease,” he commands, his tone rigid and thick with desire. You comply without hesitation, eagerly licking off the subtle traces of his seed off the tip, twirling your tongue around it.

Your mouth is immediately slick with his precum, the thick fluid coating the corners of your lips. The heady scent drives you wild as you savour every drop of his essence. You keep using your tongue to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges and pressing into the squishy flesh of his head.

He bites down on his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he battles to muffle his grunts, his body quivering with need.  

When you finally close your lips around his painfully hard cock, he reacts with a sharp intake of breath. His fingers thread through your hair as he breathlessly whines your name like a fervent prayer. From that angle, his dimples appear as dark slits along his cheeks, adding to his rugged allure.

You meet his gaze with a sultry mewl of pleasure, giving your throat more room to take him in harder and deeper into your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you glide lower on him as you hold onto his pelvis until his head crushes the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex.

Challenge accepted; you handle him like a pro.

“Y/N, you’re… oh, fuck… No,” he sputters out with an intense shudder, rubbing his eyes as he fights the overwhelming tide of his impending orgasm.

“Load me,” you exhale teasingly as you pull him out of your mouth only to pump him back down with renewed hunger. He intertwines his fingers with yours, guiding your movements as you kick off a slow, torturous rhythmic ordeal just to gauge his reaction.

With a choked moan, he tightens his grip, sticking his convulsing cock all the way down with urgency, thrusting in your mouth with a ruthless pace.

His move and the resonance of his deep voice send a surge of heat to your core that consumes you, tripling the moisture in your panties.

You want him in ways that will add new sins to the bible.

Each time you rise, you suck his tip with fervour before slamming back down on his throbbing length. The symphony of moans he’s emitting are almost sinful—you’ve never gotten soaking wet just from hearing a man groan. He’s gonna be the death of your ovaries.

As you steal a gaze upwards, his abs glistening with a sheen of sweat, you watch his head fall back. “No,” he breathes out repetitively, his chest heaving and his Adam’s apple bobbing—a tell-tale sign that he’s on the brink of letting his load spray onto anything in the room.

His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy and messy. Blinded by pleasure, his mind goes blank as he teeters on the edge.

Still panting, he hauls you off him more forcefully, his fingers hooking onto the hem of your stockings. You notice his nose scrunch up in clear disapproval as he glares at your lips—swollen and shining with wetness—immediately stripping you off your undergarments with raw intensity.

Flipping you over so your upper body’s bent over the wooden bench, he gropes your ass cheek before slapping it harshly, making you squeal with excitement. “Why do I have to say no twice?” he growls, his voice ringing with dominance as he claims you as his own.

You’re ovulating, so your audacity and inhibitions are thrown to the wind, acting like you’ve been dick-deprived your entire life. “I wanna tick you off so much you show no mercy. Just take me already,” you demand, your voice heavy with despair.

With a guttural groan, he obliges, rutting his hips as he lines up his leaking tip with your entrance. The moment he meets your wet folds, you both gasp in unison as he plunges in you. The sensation of him filling you up sparks fireworks as he humps you in long, steady thrusts, his velvet plush head bumping against your swollen clit with a delicious friction.

Your cries threaten to spill out, but his hand clamps gently over your mouth to shush you, his dark eyes flashing with warning. “We have to be quiet, baby,” he rasps, his voice tinged with lust. You turn over your shoulder and nod underneath his grasp, your half-lidded eyes glazing with pleasure.

A muffled yelp roars against his palm as he drills his aching cock deeper inside of you. You grip the edge of the bench tightly, and the sound of it banging against the wall echoes through the room, adding a primal rhythm to your ecstasy. The sensation of your slithery walls stretching to accommodate his thick dick is nothing short of mind-blowing for both of you.

Using the bench for leverage, he thrusts harder, his hand trailing up to caress the curve of your ribs as you writhe beneath him. “Fuck, I love your wet little pussy,” he hisses with primitive desire. “Cum for me, Y/N, all over my dick.”

“I’m getting there, baby. I wanna drown in your juices,” you moan, feeling his jaw slacken against your back as your walls pulse around his throbbing cock.

Just as the bench keeps bashing against the concrete wall in sync with your rising orgasms, a sudden crash breaks the intensity of the moment. The yellow paint plastic box from above the shelf tumbles down—its contents splattering over both of you and the wall, creating an impromptu abstract masterpiece in the spur of the moment.

You both freeze, paint trickling down your bodies, adding vibrant hues to your flushed skin. Evan blinks in surprise, his hands still gripping your hips as he takes in the colourful chaos engulfing you.

“Well, we certainly went hard on the paint,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood despite the unexpected interruption.

You chuckle nervously as you survey the lively mess. “Looks like we got more than we bargained for tonight,” you shoot back, your voice filled with playful mischief.

With a wicked smirk, Evan swipes paint off your cheek, leaving a colourful streak between you two as you embrace. “We’ve got a cleanup on our hands before we can get back to what we—” His words are abruptly cut off by approaching footsteps.

Though the intoxicating passion still clouds your mind, one detail arises with sobering clarity: You’re screwed (literally). 

“You hit it off with the first three cubicles, I’ll handle the ones from the end, and we’ll meet in the middle,” a deep man’s voice echoes from outside, sending a jolt of panic through both of you. 

Evan winces and involuntarily grabs your hand. Your body stiffens as you lace your clammy fingers with his, the paint already forming a small puddle at your feet.

Acting on pure instinct, he ushers you deeper into the toilet, using his foot to discreetly slide the torn condom wrapper closer to your hiding spot.

“What’s the plan now?” you mouth. Your palms are raised in a questioning gesture, fingers wiggling subtly, as your breath comes in shallow, shaky huffs.

Evan shrugs. “That was a plot twist, didn’t see it coming,” he replies, barely audible in his hushed response.

You hang onto his shirt for dear life, your face taking a ghost-like pale complexion as you weigh the consequences of the trouble you’re about to get in. “The door’s locked, but there’s a little slot under it. Shall I wait up here until they’re gone?” you pantomime your words, attempting to convey your plan to Evan with the finesse of a silent movie star. But as you try to hoist yourself up and chamber onto the toilet seat, you slip, almost tumbling backward.

Evan swoops in to catch you like a superhero, his forehead wrinkled by worry lines, eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” he whispers urgently, pressing a finger to his lips in a frantic plea for silence.

You nod vigorously, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated motions, communicating your escape plan like you’re on the charades: “Let’s go check if we’re clear, then sneak out.”

Nodding in silent agreement, he unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist. Poking his head out, he peers cautiously into the corridor. You stretch up on your tiptoes, craning your neck to peek out over his shoulder, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.

Finding no one in sight, you both spring into action with the speed and stealth of seasoned spies. You snatch up as much toilet roll as you can, using it to hastily wipe away the evidence of your paint mishap. The paper becomes saturated with soap and water as you scrub your life away, determined to leave no trace behind.

Before you know it, Evan seizes your hand, purse and shoes, and you skitter out of the bathroom like you’re escaping a high-security prison. You zip past the slightly open doors of the other stalls, and as you weave the maze of hallways, you catch a glimpse of the two cleaning men hard at work—one wielding a toilet spray like a weapon on the lead, while the other, two doors ahead, diligently mops the floor.

 

You burst out of the bathroom, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping, feeling like you just pulled off the heist of the century. In the dimly lit corridor between the toilets and the restaurant, you exchange triumphant grins, basking in the rush of your daring gateway. With a quick, victorious high five, you’re both ready for the next phase of your adventure.

But before you can catch your breath, Evan pulls you close, his lips crashing against yours in a fiery kiss that sets you on fire. His tongue dances with yours, igniting a fierce passion between you. As his hands start to wander along your ass and clit, you can’t resist and melt into his touch, a soft moan slipping off you.

Reality hits you like a freight train, and you protest against his lips, reluctantly swatting his hands away and pushing him back gently. “You can’t waltz back to your table looking like nuggets dipped in mayo, and I don’t have a spare wardrobe stashed in my purse,” you whine. With a determined swipe, you rub off a scuff mark from his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his face as he nods in understanding.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, and without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you in the direction of the toilet. But as you reach the door, he steers you towards the emergency door instead. Throwing yourselves outside, you’re met with the frigid night air, an uninviting shock after the warmth of the restaurant.

The cold bites at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. But Evan is quick to replace your coat, which still hangs off your table chair, and envelops you in an embrace, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

You cling to him, his body heat a comforting embrace as he cups your hands in his, blowing warm breath into them. The moon casts a soft glow over a secluded pond before you, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel.

“I’ve got good and bad news,” Evan chirps, his voice tinged with a mischievous undertone. You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as you lean closer to him, flakes of paint dropping off your arms as he intensifies his rubbing.

“Spill the good news first. Enough shocks for today, I wanna buy myself some time.” 

“The good news is,” he begins, a grin spreading across his face, “my rented place is over there,” he reveals and points behind you. You follow his gaze to the tall complex of flats that extend from the main hotel.

You hum in acknowledgment, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Alright… and what’s the bad news?” you inquire, already bracing yourself for whatever curveball he’s about to throw your way.

“The bad news is that if we wanna keep the prying eyes at bay,” he continues, his eyes fixed on you in mounting suspense, “we’ve got some climbing to do.”

The grass crunches under your feet as you wade through the greenery, your heels sinking into the mud with each step. You duck under the low archway in the middle and reach the towering fence.

“Damn, that’s taller than I thought,” he mutters, eyeing the fence with a furrowed brow.

“Piece of cake,” you counter with a coy smile, tossing your heels on the other end. You make the first move by planting your toes on a cracked piece in the wall, gripping the hurdle tightly to propel yourself upwards.

As he gives you an extra push, his hands boldly grazing your ass, a mischievous sparkle gleams in his eyes. “Speaking of cakes,” he cheers, squeezing your curves as his eyes linger on the enticing view of your cunt beneath your dress, his grin broad and cocky.

“Stay focused, dude,” you hiss, playfully waving him away as you divert your attention back to the task at hand.

With a hint of concern in his voice, Evan watches you climb, ready to catch you if you falter. “Take it slow, Y/N. With this velocity, you gotta use one leg at a time...” he advises, his arms poised to assist you.

Rolling your eyes, you brush off his instruction. “The mansplaining’s redundant, Peters. I’ve got this,” you scold jokingly, confidently manoeuvring over the obstacles.

“It’s hard... oh, mind your head on the branches…” he mumbles, absentmindedly repeating “it’s hard” as he observes your every move with a mix of awe and disbelief.

When you safely tumble over to the other side, he can’t help but chuckle nervously, astonished by your agility. “Oh, that was easy…it was really easy, actually” he mumbles with a shake of his head, mouth agape, still processing your swift ascent.

“Come on, slowpoke,” you taunt, your voice laced with playful challenge. You dust off your hands, the thrill of the escape still coursing through your veins.

“I’m just taking my time,” he defends as he carefully navigates his way over the fence. 

“Says the guy who played Quicksilver,” you mock, giggling, and run your tongue along your teeth with a cheeky smile.

As Evan finally makes it over the fence, he stumbles on a loose stone, his footing giving way beneath him. You gasp, lunging forward to catch him as he starts to fall backward, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to regain his balance.

“Watch out!” you cry out, and you manage to pull him back from the brink of spraining his ankle on the way down. 

He winces in pain, clutching his leg as he tries to stand. “Ouch, that was close,” he groans, his breath hitched. 

Concern floods through you as you help him to his feet, supporting him as he tests his injured ankle. “You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice.

Evan nods, his expression strained. “I think so,” he replies, clenching his jaw against the discomfort.

You sigh, realising that your adventure may have taken an unexpected turn. “Maybe we should take it easy for now, old man,” you suggest once you realise he’s fine, suppressing a laugh as you guide him back to safety.

As you playfully rib Evan with the “old man” label, he retaliates by tickling you, his fingers sending ripples of loud laughter down your spine. You squirm and wriggle, trying to escape his teasing grasp, but he’s relentless.

“Alright, alright, I give up!” you yell, breathless from both laughter and excitement. But Evan doesn’t stop there. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he picks you up into his arms, his lips hammering against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. 

“Let me show you who’s the old man,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with desire and challenge as he carries you off.

The reception area lies deserted, and the dull glow of an overhead light seeps through the crack at the bottom of the slightly ajar cleaning storage door. 

“Anyone here?” he calls out, testingly, but there’s no response. Without wasting any time, you make a beeline for the elevator. The ding of the lift makes you jump, you launch your bodies up the stairs, bounding them up like a panther on the prowl, your feet padding down on the carpeted floor.

You creep into his room, edging the door shut until the latch clicks into place, and you pause to laugh at the yellow patches on your body. “I feel like I’ve just wrestled a pig in a mud pit.” 

“I’ve got the best way to clean it all up?” he mumbles sloppily into your lips, his arms folded around your waist, massaging your ass.

Hot water spurts out of the shower faucet, raining down marvellously on the tiled floor. You smile, holding your hand up to it and watching the paint, mostly dried now, run off your legs before landing on the ground and swirling around the drain. The temperature is heavenly, able to ease even the deepest aching of your shoulders, and your smile widens.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, planting a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You bite down your lip at the sensation. “Finger-fuck while you kiss me, first. I need it,” you huff in despair, eyes imploring.

“You wish, I deliver, baby,” he breathes out, suckling on your pulse as you lightly pump his erect shaft in your hand in your fluid motion. He seems way too horny and too into you to say no.

He grunts and grounds his hips against your inner thigh. Against the wall, his fingers dip in, gathering some of your warm, slithery wetness and splotching it over your shiny folds. His free hand claws on your face, dragging you for a breathless kiss.

“Gosh,” you moan chokingly, an exhilarating lilt in your words. Your back arches as you feel that knot in your stomach beginning to snap. The pad of his middle finger keeps tapping and circling your clit, and you feel the escalating climb of your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch, and once he realises this, his fingers slowly drift away from your weeping cunt, his slick fingers gripping your thigh.

“Wh-why?” you protest in frustration.

Without uttering a single syllable, he snatches the detachable shower head, a smirk playing on his lips as he winds the cable around his wrist. He cranks the setting to its highest level and kneels down, parting your slopping folds with a confident touch. His lips curve in a devilish smile as he takes sight of your pulsating pussy clenching around nothing, giggling as he realises he’s edged you so badly.

As he positions the shower head near your throbbing clit, you instinctively clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the shrill whimper that threatens to escape. The sensation of the water hitting your sensitive bud forces your breath out in punchy, laboured gasps as you feel the vibrations bringing your high closer.

He laps at your cunt like it’s a melting ice cream cone, and it doesn’t take long for your sweet cream to leak out along his mouth. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyelids fluttering as you’re consumed by the tsunami of your looming orgasm. Each flick of his tongue sends tremors through your thighs, the wet, slick sounds filling the room.

His tongue flattens out against your clit and you let out a needy whine, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. He presses his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue jerking at the underside of your clit. As he licks at your entrance, he sinks his tongue into your soaking hole, you cum on his tongue, grinding his face, moaning his name in heavy, ragged pants.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you, he stands up straight, his hands gently caressing your waistband in a soothing gesture. But you’re not done yet. With a hungry urgency, you pull him into a kiss, your lips melding together.

He backs you against the wall, hiking up your thighs and wrapping them tightly around his waist. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your dripping entrance. As he slams into you, the world around you fades away, and your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts as he pounds harsher and faster in you, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Your slick is trickling down his cock, creating a slippery mess on his thighs as he drives into you relentlessly. His breathing picks up pace, the air thick with the heady scent of sex and steam. You almost had him, until his hands forces your hips down onto his cock as far as they would go, his tip nudging against your cervix.

A scream tears from your lips as you squirm against his ruthless assault and bruising force. The tip of his cock brushes against that spongy spot inside you time and time again, the lewd squelching sounds of your poor, swollen cunt only a faint indicator that you were close.

In the misty haze of the shower, you catch him smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual above him. Your tits bounce tantalisingly in front of him, a tempting feast he can’t resist as he reaches out to grab them in his mouth, eager to taste every inch of your trembling body.

As the unbearably tight, hot coil in your abdomen snaps, you’re unable to contain the set of moans that spill from your lips. A tingling heat spreads across your body, your muscles contracting and burning with the intensity of your release.

His face contorts in pleasure, his brows knitting together as his jaw drops in awe. His breaths come out in hurried, choppy huffs as he pumps inside you, warm, white strings of cum painting your walls as if he marks his territory and you as his own.

“Ugh, I’m dizzy...and l look like shit,” you huff out, your voice laced with giggles. Evan stays still for a moment, burying his face into the crook of you neck.

“You’re dizzy but beautiful,” he rasps, chuckling breathlessly, and you feel your cheeks flushing. He strokes your face, his touch tender and loving as he presses soft kisses against your lips. Your tongues dance together in a sweet and intimate exchange as soft moans escape both of you.

Slowly, he pulls out. A mix of your juices coats his tip as it drips from your hole in a seductive display of your shared ecstasy.

“I want cuddles on the bed now,” he says, his voice soft and pleading, a hint of a pout playing on his lips as he gazes at you with adoration.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[toomuchracket]

bump in the night (dad!matty x reader fluff)

baby phoebe thinks there's a monster under her bed. matty to the rescue! once again, promptober. enjoy <3

“dad… dad, wake up.”

the owner of the worried voice shoves his shoulder, and matty jerks awake. disoriented, he fumbles for the switch on the bedside lamp; when he finds it, he also finds dylan standing beside him, eyes wide and teeth chewing at her bottom lip. “dyl?” he clears his throat, voice scratchy. “what is it, darling?”

“it's phoebe. she won't stop crying,” her jaw is trembling, a clear sign that she's anxious. matty reaches for her hand, and she seems to calm down slightly. “me and elena both tried to calm her down, but she just keeps sobbing for you and mum. don't know what else to do, dad.”

terror pierces him, the kind of fear that only sets in when you or your daughters are concerned - the worst kind, it goes without saying. extracting his right arm from your still-sleeping hold as inconspicuously as possible, matty pulls himself out of bed, reassuring his eldest before he goes to help his youngest. “you did the right thing, dyl,” he pulls her into a hug, kissing her sleep-messy curls. “is pheebs saying she's not feeling well, or…?”

“no, she just keeps crying and saying she wants you and mum. she calmed down a little bit when lena and i went in, but not a lot.”

“okay,” he rubs his eyes, taking dylan's hand. “lead the way.”

it's only a few steps across the landing and down the hall to phoebe's room, but the worry makes it seem far longer. a wave of relief washes over matty when he and dylan make it through the door, but it's short-lived - his three-year-old is shaking in her big sister’s arms, the flush on her tear-stained cheeks evident in the glow from the nightlight, and elena looks on the verge of tears too. “oh, my darlings,” he coos softly, kneeling at the side of phoebe's bed. “what's wrong?”

phoebe practically throws herself into his arms, tiny body wrapping itself around his. hot tears dampen his t-shirt, and matty can feel his own eyes welling up. he's sick to his stomach when any of his girls are upset, but his youngest is so especially sweet and smiley that her sadness seems to hurt him just that little bit more. “phoebe, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “please tell daddy why you're crying, yeah? deep breaths, munchkin, copy me,” he inhales deeply, and exhales slowly. “can you do that?”

she copies him shakily, while elena crawls to sit on the edge of the bed in front of him; even at seven, her legs still don't reach the ground, dangling endearingly instead. “i think she's scared, dad.”

“alright, darling, thank you,” he smiles at his middle baby, who returns it sleepily. “you two can go back to bed, if you like. thank you for helping your sister, my sweet girls.”

they shake their heads in vehement denial, dylan moving to join her sister on the edge of the bed. “not leaving until phoebe's okay.”

“you sure? you'll be tired tomorrow.”

elena shrugs, matty in miniature. “doesn't matter. our sister’s more important.”

matty's eyes actually do fill with tears at that - how on earth did you and him manage to create such perfect, kind humans? it's baffling. “alright, darlings,” he nods, before turning his attention to phoebe. “did you have a bad dream, sweetheart?”

tiny curls brush his neck as she shakes her head. “uh-uh.”

“okay. was there a big noise outside? foxes, or a car, or people shouting? that can be really scary, especially if it wakes you up.”

another head shake. “in here.”

now we're getting somewhere. “there was a scary noise in your bedroom, munchkin?”

“yeah,” phoebe's little voice shakes, turning to a sob when she speaks again. “like… like a monster!”

“where exactly, darling?”

“the- the wall,” she hiccups; matty softly rubs her back to calm her down. “and under my bed.”

interesting. monsters under the bed aren't exactly uncommon, but in the wall? maybe phoebe's imagination is stronger than you all thought.

or maybe… “what kind of thing did it sound like, sweetheart? can you remember?”

she thinks for a second, wiping her eyes on the shoulder of his t-shirt. “like when my tummy is hungry.”

“rumbling? why would it be… oh,” the answer clicks in matty's brain, the logistics of the house's layout revealing it to him: phoebe's bedroom is directly above the utility room, so - “it isn't a monster, my darling, it's just the central heating.”

dylan lets out a soft “ahhh” of realisation, but elena looks puzzled - when phoebe moves to look at matty, so does she. “the heating?”

“yes, munchkin. it's what makes the house cosy, and makes sure we have hot water for our showers and baths-”

“and washing our hands?”

he smiles. “exactly, my smart girl. but it all starts from that cupboard near the washing machine, and then it travels through the pipes up through your room, and into the rest of the rooms. that's what the noise is, darling. not a monster.”

phoebe sniffles. “really?”

“would you like me to check under the bed anyway?”

“mhmm.”

“alright,” he kisses her head, settling phoebe between her sisters on the bed and ducking down to scan under the bed; his back practically screams at him not to, but he can't disappoint his baby girl. “all clear down here, girls. not even a speck of dust,” popping back up, he takes phoebe's tiny hands in his own. “do you feel a bit better now, munchkin?”

“yeah,” she nods. “but the noise is scary.”

matty can't blame her for that - the bed is right against the wall with the pipework, and she's only three. it's a lot. “tell you what, darling - you come in with mummy and me, just for tonight, and tomorrow we can rearrange your room so the noise isn't as loud, yeah?”

“‘kay.”

phoebe rubs her eyes. matty smiles, scooping her into his arms again - smiling even wider at the way she melts into him - and stands, nodding at his older two. “come on, my girls. back to bed.”

the four of them trudge out onto the landing, exchanging goodnights and head kisses. matty gives dylan and elena an extra hair ruffle each. “thank you for looking after your sister, girls. lie-in tomorrow, alright?”

“mhmm. night!”

“night, dad! night, pheebs!”

two bedroom doors close, and matty carries phoebe towards the last slightly open one; behind it, you're half-asleep, but quickly awakened by the sound of matty's footsteps and, ironically, his hushed “don't wake mummy, sweetheart, alright?” to the little one in his arms. he sighs when you turn to face him, sitting up slowly and flicking the light on. “baby? what's going on?” rubbing your eyes, you notice phoebe. “oh, hi, my darling. you alright?”

“she is now,” matty sets phoebe on the bed; she crawls to you for a cuddle immediately. “but she's staying with us tonight, and i'm spending my saturday rearranging her bedroom.”

“oh, okay,” you raise a brow. “do i want to know?”

“i'll explain tomorrow,” matty flops onto the bed, flicking the light out, suddenly tired. “right now, i think we all just need to get some sleep.”

“alright,” you lean over to kiss him, dropping one onto a now-sleeping phoebe's head for good measure. “goodnight, my loves.”

matty strokes your face, and then your tiniest girl's. “goodnight, darlings.”