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giannaln4 · 6 months ago

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GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day fifteen.

Good Girl + Wearing His Clothes During Sex (2k words)

summary: The last thing you needed was your boyfriend distracting you from all the work you needed to get done, but he knew just the way to get your attention.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, oral (f receiving), praise, dom!lando, unprotected sex.

The big hotel room felt overwhelming as you sat on the desk with your laptop in front of you. This is what you had to put up with for travelling around the world to support your boyfriend. You wouldn’t say it wasn’t worth it, but it was the time difference that was really killing you.

You hoped to have enough time to enjoy Brazil and its beautiful activities, but sadly, this wasn’t the case, since you now found yourself feeling stressed, with a million things to do, and wearing one of Lando’s shirts that rested just above your thigh to put up with the hot weather.

Lando was laying on the bed, staring at you as you typed away; he was growing a little desperate. You promised you would be done in time for lunch, or at least to spend some time together, but it wasn’t looking like that would happen for who knows how long.

“How is it going?”

“Uh- not great,” he sighed as you said this. There were many reasons he brought you with him, and watching you work was not one of them. “I’ll be over soon, I promise.”

“How long?”

“Baby, I’ll be done in time for lunch, okay?” You said again, looking at him momentarily.

He looked at the time, assuming he wouldn’t have to wait too much since it was almost lunchtime. He decided to stop bothering you and just let you do your thing, knowing that if he distracted you, you’d take longer, and he just needed you to himself as soon as possible.

An hour went by, and it didn’t look like you would be done any time soon; he hated to admit it, but he was almost at his limit. He realised it wasn’t fair to feel that way, but he honestly couldn’t help it. He decided to give you 15 more minutes, mentally setting a timer to drag you away from your computer, and when the time was done, that’s exactly what he did, or at least that was his intention.

“Okay, time for lunch. What do you feel like eating?” He said it in a tone that felt like he wasn’t giving you an option to reject him.

“Just 30 more minutes, baby, I promise.”

“What? That’s what you said almost two hours ago.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I just need to send this one thing and I’m all yours.” You looked at him with a soft smile, hoping he would understand.

Instead, he grunted in annoyance. “Baby, please. Is that office falling apart without you?”

“It is, by the looks of it.”

“Come on. Let’s have lunch and then you can come back to work. I’m starving.”

“Lando,” you stared at him more seriously now, feeling like a mother telling their kid away, going back to your laptop after a few seconds.

Were you being serious? He thought as he stood there, still looking at you and waiting for you to give him some attention. But you didn’t, so he would have to come up with a better plan.

He stood behind the desk chair, wrapping his arms around you as he planted soft kisses on your jaw. This made you melt instantly, but that feeling quickly went away when a notification popped on your screen. With that, your attention went back to the screen.

But he wouldn’t give up so easily. His mouth travelled further down, paying special attention to your neck.

“Not now, Lando. I’m quite busy.”

He turned the chair around, so now you were facing him. “You need to take a break, my love, you can’t keep going like this.”

“I’m almost done-”

“That’s what you have been saying, not only today but literally every day.” He was giving you his best puppy eyes, hoping that would make you break.

“I know… no, don’t give me that look.”

“Please, one hour is all I’m asking for. We’ll order room service so we don’t even have to leave the room. Is a win-win.”

He kneeled in front of you, his hands landing on your thighs as he started kissing your exposed skin. You were considering it; in one hand, stopping for an hour wouldn’t hurt anybody, but then again, if you stopped, that means you would eventually have to come back and finish later.

That internal battle was soon forgotten when you felt one of his hands creeping up between your legs, quickly finding your clothed core. You let out an involuntary moan, closing your eyes as you enjoyed his touch.

“See? You need to relax,” he whispered, his kisses becoming wetter the closer he got to the inside of your thighs. “Lift your hips for me.” Lando hooked his fingers in the hem of your panties, sliding them down your body and throwing them somewhere behind him. With all the patience in the world, he used one of his fingers to play with your clit, circling it softly as he looked up at you, a smirk forming on his face when he saw how much you were enjoying it.

“Want me to keep going?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, swallowing hard as your small hand fell on his hair.

He decided to cut out the teasing now that he could see how desperate you were getting, burying himself completely between your legs and planting a kiss directly on your clit. The moan you let out was glorious, and it only encouraged him to keep going. He then started to properly eat you out, licking and sucking just the way you liked it. He directed his tongue to your dripping hole, collecting all your arousal and then licking up your slit, bringing it to your sensitive clit.

“Shit, so good,” you moaned, and you could feel him smiling at the effect he had on you.

God, his tongue was really doing wonders. Repeatedly, he was lapping at your clit and then gently sucking on it for a longer period of time, which he knew was what you enjoyed the most, teasing it with the tip of his tongue from time to time. A few minutes went by as he repeated this process, adding a finger inside you when he felt you clench around nothing.

The added pleasure made you arch your back and push his head closer to you, although that was impossible. You couldn’t help it; you could feel your orgasm so close yet so far. It was probably the stress; Lando was right, you were overworking yourself day after day, and this was probably just what you needed.

Another thick finger was added as he picked up the pace, and you began to feel the familiar tightening of your orgasm approach.

“Lando- fuck.” Your eyes were squeezed shut as your legs that rested on his shoulder began to shake, gasps and pants escaping your lips as you started to see stars, your orgasm hitting you shortly after.

You could hear him moan faintly, the vibrations prolonging your climax as your tiny clit pulsed against his tongue. Your entire body was combulsing so much that you were sure that if Lando wasn’t holding you with one of his strong arms, the chair wouldn’t be standing anymore.

When it became too much, you pushed his head away, breathing heavily as you came down from your high. But he was starting to get needy himself. He shifted on his feet and carried you in his arms, immediately kissing you, and you could taste yourself in his mouth.

He walked towards the bed and softly placed you down, stepping away for a moment to undress himself. You admired his muscles flexing as he pulled his shirt over his head, his eyes never leaving your body. His intense gaze made you feel exposed, reaching down and trying to shove the shirt over your bare bottom half while he stood over you.

God, he really had you in the palm of his hand, because the way he chucked had you pathetically leaking down your thighs and onto the bed.

“Can’t get shy now, sweetheart, I’ve seen all of it,” he reminded you, making your cheeks go red as you recalled the events that took place in the chair across the room just minutes ago.

You timidly nodded, paying attention to how his hands moved to undo his belt and pull his pants down, along with his underwear. His smirk grew darker as you pressed your thighs together; the way he affected you never went unnoticed, and he always yearned to give you more.

Once he was finally done, he hovered over you, his lips immediately finding yours. You involuntarily moaned against him, wrapping your legs around him to bring him closer. In a swift movement, he rolled you over so you would be on top, dragging your hips lower to get you to sit on his desperate cock.

Your hips started slowly moving, relieving some of the neediness he was feeling; his moans joined yours, and as you got more into it, your hands reached for the hem of the shirt you were still wearing.

“No, keep that on for me, yeah?” He stopped you, pulling it back down. You nodded and placed your hands on his chest instead, nails digging at his skin.

“Mhm, need you,” you moaned, lifting your hips and guiding his cock to your entrance. That action sent a throb through his already aching abdomen, an incredibly deep moan coming from him as you sat back down.

“Fuck, so perfect for me.” He whimpered, his hands finding your waist to guide your movements. This made his shirt roll up, uncovering your pussy and part of your tummy; he could practically see himself inside you as you bounced on his cock.

You had your lip trapped between your teeth as your hands were now placed on top of his, your eyes shut as you arched your back, allowing him to have a better view of how his huge cock disappeared inside you. He could watch you ride him forever; you were always so good for him.

“Good girl.” You let out a loud moan at his words and clenched his pulsing dick inside you, making you open your eyes and look down at him — a look somewhere between surprised and embarrassed meeting his eyes.

Lando didn’t share your feelings of embarrassment at all; in fact, he was going insane at the reaction two simple words got out of you. Oh, he was going to use that to his advantage.

“Like it when I call you a good girl?” Fuck, another loud moan. “Yeah, are you being a good girl for me?”

“Ah, yes,” you breathed out, your pace picking up at every word he uttered.

“Keep going, baby, you are doing so good.” A broken moan vibrated from your chest, only making him more amused.

You did as he said, maintaining a rhythm that felt so good for both of you. However, after a few seconds, he felt like it wasn't fast enough, because the next thing you knew, he had planted his feet on the bed and thursted up into you, his grip on your waist tightening and breaking your rhythm, smirking at the broken moan you let out.

“I need- please,” you moaned desperately as you felt him hit your g-spot over and over again. He watched with darkened eyes as you threw your head back and screamed his name.

“Come on, wanna keep my cum inside your tummy?” As if he could drive you even crazier, one of his thumbs landed on your clit. His teeth flashed in a grin when you nodded, pressing harder. “Cum with me, baby.”

As soon as he said those words, the coil in your stomach tightened before breaking completely, more broken moans and a few curses slipping past your lips. He cried out when his orgasm followed soon after, filling your pussy with his hot cum.

You fell forward onto his chest, his hands caressing your back under the sweaty shirt. “Good girl,” he muttered one more time as he pressed a sweet kiss to your head.

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#giannaln4 kinktober #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris one shot #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #giannaln4 writes

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retrosabers · 3 months ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a little bit of everything. some relationship fluff, a bit of angst (mentions of death and past trauma), very flirty and filthy logan, 18+ CONTENT AT THE BOTTOM. MINORS DNI (body worship, praise kink, pain kink, dirty talk to the nines.)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: not me posting something for the first time in a) over a month and b) in 2025 😍😍

it’s been ROUGH in the brain and writing department for me, and this is the best i could come up with right now. i hope i can get back in my real groove soon, i miss writing real bad.

in the mean time, please enjoy my wolvie brain dump. feel free to share any of your own personal hcs in the comments or reblogs!!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

he’s secret tea drinker. always drinks coffee (no cream no sugar; nasty ass) in the morning but also drinks tea at night. though nothing can fully calm him down in the evening, the tea does relax him in some capacity, and logan takes whatever reprieve he can get. plus it was one of the first things you started doing together, so it’s become a part of his routine he can’t be without.

typically the first person up, and the last person in bed. you’d think logan wouldn’t be a morning person, but he’s surprisingly at ease in the early hours. as relaxed as someone like him could get, anyways.

likes to read a lot. he was in complete awe of the mansion’s library the first time he saw it. will often sneak in when no one’s around and read for an hour or two by the window if he’s got the time. when you discover he’s a secret bookworm, you start to leave a book on his desk that you think he’ll enjoy every once in a while. it’s a small gesture logan holds very near and dear to his heart.

can’t remember people’s birthdays or important dates to save his life BUT can recall something minor in a fleeting conversation from a long time ago. also remembers very random useless facts that have actually come in handy on more than one occasion.

if and when logan sleeps, he snores. so. fucking. LOUD, to the point where it can wake people up depending on how close quarters are. he denies it constantly.

likes to make sure his deodorant and cologne have the same general scent (i just know he smells like a sexy ass manly man URGH).

a lot of people hc him as a history professor but i have a hot take: gym teacher logan. not in the typical “let’s run laps and play dodgeball” way, but in the sense that he teaches the kids how to control and utilize their mutations to their advantage (with help from the rest of the xmen of course), and maybe even some light sparring to practice self defense. i personally just don’t see the history teacher thing working out because i fear he would subconsciously be reliving a LOT of trauma.

gets really anxious whenever someone is sick or injured. he’s been gravely reminded before that not everyone is indestructible like he is, and it scares him to see others get hurt in any capacity, because he’s terrified of losing them. the first time you get seriously wounded on a mission? logan damn near wears his boots down to the sole from pacing back and forth outside the medbay so much. he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t focus on anything other than you. time stops for him; and won’t resume until he’s certain you’re going to be okay.

legitimately purrs like a cat if you scratch his head just the right way. he will once again deny this until the end of time, but with less resistance and a much more flushed complexion.

“whatever,” he mumbles into your stomach, while guiding your nails back to his scalp.

hates ANY music made after the year 2000, but anything before that he’s pretty keen on. he’s got his preferences for sure (a little country, some rock, and maybe a bit of bluegrass), but isn’t above admitting that a pop tune is a little catchy from time to time.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

you better not even THINK about ever opening a door for yourself ever again because if you do he’s taking personal offense to it.

he may be a slut in the sheets but he’s a near perfect gentlemen in the streets. i’m talking walking on the outside of the sidewalk at all times, always helping you out of the car even if you don’t need it, carrying your jacket or shoes after a night out, making sure you’re obscured from view if you need to adjust a revealing top; any chivalrous boyfriend thing you can think of, and he’s done it. with suaveness, might i add.

“here honey, gimme that, i got it.”

“hold on a second sweetheart, your strap’s all twisted.”

the definition of “you fell first but he fell harder.”

makes it a point to take you on a “real date” outside the mansion once or twice a month because he knows how much you enjoy getting dressed up for different occasions. whether that be dinner, dancing (yes, if you beg hard enough he’ll go dancing with you), and maybe even a trip to the museum or planetarium.

both the big and little spoon, it depends on the day, but he’s an insane cuddler either way. a human teddy bear for you and only you. this? he won’t deny, not for a second. and he’ll tell anyone who cares to tease him about it to fuck off.

always touching you in some capacity. a gentle caress on the back of your neck, or cold palms sliding underneath your sweater, logan has no qualms about being a bit handsy.

“if your girl looked like this, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either.”

his favorite (and yours too secretly) is a hand in the back pocket of your jeans. there’s something equally sweet and sultry about it that makes your stomach flutter every time. a slightly possessive gesture, that when coupled with a cocky smirk and a shameless squeeze, never fails to drive you wild.

you thought he was a worry wart about your safety before you were dating? it amplifies by a million when you’re together, almost to the point of annoyance because he’s adamant on not letting you out of his sight. eventually after a few arguments and a scolding from charles, you remind him that you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own, and yes, sometimes he does need to look out for you, just in case.

SMUT:

handsy logan = body worship logan. this man will make it his life mission to appreciate every single inch of your body. he doesn’t care if you’re tangled in between sheets for hours on end. you’re not leaving the bed until you know just how much he’s smitten with every part of you.

pain kink king who will cum significantly faster if you break skin with your nails raking down arms or back. gets an immediate hard on when you slap him in the middle of a dangerously intense argument, and implores you to do it again in a dark, lust driven tone.

to make up for the fact that you can’t mark your territory, with logan’s regenerative capabilities and all, he goes above and beyond to mark his. this man leaves hickies everywhere, and i mean everywhere. your hip bones, your navel, damn near the entirety of your sternum, your neck essentially a human canvas that he gladly paints in brilliant hues of lavender.

he may be a man of few words with most, but with you? logan can never shut the fuck up about how good you make him feel.

“look at you. doin’ so good for me honey.” “y’feel like fuckin’ heaven, you know that?” “my perfect girl. made just for me.”

cannot handle when you return the favor. immediately shoves his flushed face into whatever part of your body he can find and picks up the pace. praise is another surefire way to get logan to blow his load in record time. he thinks it’s a little embarrassing but you think it’s SO HOT.

loves a good tummy bulge OOP who said that

really enjoys sex in the shower or bath. there’s an additional layer of intimacy with it that makes logan particularly warm in the chest. will often suggest round two in the bathroom so he not only has the pleasure of ruining you again, but helping gently put you back together with a tenderness reserved only for you.

the ceo of teasing. loves to watch you get all flustered and squirmy so you best believe he’s teasing the fuck out of you any chance he gets. logan’s got wandering hands and a filthy mouth and that he uses to his advantage both in and out of the bedroom.

“what if i bent you over this desk, right here right now, hm? would you like that?”

“your skirt’s real pretty baby. think it would look a lot better on the floor of my room.”

“been thinkin’ about you all day. gonna let me fuck you real good later?”

aftercare is a learning curve. he’s not completely careless the first time you have sex, but he’s not as caring and attentive as he knows he probably should be. logan was used to quick one night stands, not getting intimate with someone he had romantic feelings for. once he realizes how in-deep he is with you, he takes the time to learn the ins and outs of true aftercare.

* for more smut headcanons, check out my logan nsfw alphabet here*

thanks for reading! <3

#retrosabers #sid writes shit #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fic #logan howlett #wolverine #xmen #marvel #hugh jackman

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lokidjarin-7567 · 3 months ago

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The Alchemy

Hwang In-ho (professor AU) x Reader

Your chemistry professor caught your eye the moment you walked into class, and as time went on, you couldn’t deny your feelings anymore. Did he feel it too, or were you doomed to heartbreak?

fem!reader x Professor Hwang In-ho, smut, fluff, a little angst and everything in between, badly edited, multiple POV, 18+ MDNI

8.5k words (sorry not sorry)

And here it is!! I’ve been obsessed with him for a while now, so very glad Squid Game is giving him the recognition he deserves from a Western audience. Decided to da a Professor AU because yum, so hope you enjoy x

Taglist: @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @nunita23

TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

You knew it was wrong. Your obsession with him. Everything about him was thoroughly captivating to you: the way he spoke, the way he dressed, the way he walked around the lecture hall with such confidence. You were enthralled every single lesson, so attentive and studious, hanging on his every last word like it was some kind of spell for everlasting life. Really, if you thought about it, it was actuallly a good thing. Your grades were better, you hadn’t missed a single lecture since the term began, and you were putting more effort into your studies in a desperate effort to impress him. And the cherry on top of the cake was that he had noticed. He knew you by name, he always picked you first if you had your hand up, and he even added complimentary comments to your papers. Even if he was old enough to be your dad, even if there was a power imbalance, even if nothing could ever happen between you, your crush only continued to grow stronger.

“I know, I know, class is nearly over, but we’ve got a few more things to cover, so let’s wake you all up with a little organic pop-quiz.” A few groans echoed around the room, but you smiled. Organic chemistry was your favourite, especially when he taught it, so you watched as he drew a few molecules on the whiteboard. A formula, and a damn easy one.

“Can anyone tell me the primary product here?” Your hand was up before the question was finished, but you tried to limit your keen nature - only half-raising your hand lazily as you doodled the finished equation on your notepad. You liked to think you were quite good at hiding your adoration for him. Yes, you could listen to him talk for hours, but you knew when to watch him and when to take notes. You knew when to speak up and when to stay quiet. You could control your face, aside from the occasional blush, never sitting there with puppy-dog eyes or biting your pen like they do in the movies. You were subtle - small smiles after a compliment, gazing with admiration when he wasn’t looking, answering any questions quickly but with professionalism and confidence. The perfect student. But you never, ever flirted. You knew that was academic suicide, especially with a Professor as influential as him. You were content with detached obsession. For now, at least.

Your heart did flutter, though, at the smile and small chuckle he gave when he saw your hand.

“Of course, the only student I have that actually enjoys organic…” You heard a few hums of agreement from the students behind you, saw the nods from the ones in front. You smiled at your reputation.

“What can I say, at least you always have someone to answer your questions…” Another laugh, music to your ears.

“That is true. Go ahead.”

“Well, that’s ethanol and that’s ethanoic acid so you would produce ethyl ethanoate.”

“Ah, I made it too easy for you! Should have mixed up the length of the polymers so you would have to think about which prefix came first.” Another flash of a smile.

“Rookie error.” You joked, and it was the closest you’d ever been to flirting. The back and forth was making you blush, the way his eyes were fixed to you from the front of the classroom. You were in your usual spot in the third row - the perfect distance to see him clearly, but not too close to look keen. Although, that point was kind of defeated by the amount of times your hand was first up, no matter how nonchalantly you tried to do it. His eyes were glittering with a slight playfulness now, head slightly cocked and you were bewitched as a few locks of his neat hair fell across his forehead.

“In that case, come and draw it for me please.” Fuck. He looked pleased with himself, hand brushing the fallen strands back, small smirk playing across his features. You sighed, heading to the front of the room in defeat. He handed you the whiteboard pen, fingers brushing yours just slightly. They were soft, delicate and warm, and his eyes were firmly fixed on you as you muttered a quiet thank you. You didn’t get to see him this close often, but you didn’t have time to take him in beyond the deep brown of his eyes, his height compared to yours, and the light scent of sandalwood that seemed to cling to the air around him even after he had walked past you back to the front of the room.

“While she’s doing that, can someone else tell me the uses of this ester please?” You were grateful your back was to the rest of the class, a furious blush spreading across your cheeks at the proximity. He glanced back at your shorthand sketch, giving you a small nod of encouragement.

“Good, and in full please.” You obeyed wordlessly, just finishing the second bond on the oxygen when the bell rang.

“That’s it for today then, everybody. Check the online portal for the homework.” He called out above the sound of bags being packed. “Oh, and there are more practical classes this term, so your timetables are also on the portal for those. I know they’re boring, and I know you’ve done them all a million times, but you have to do them again to pass!” He sighed, half the class already gone by the time he finished his sentence. He turned back to you, holding his hand out with a smile and you passed the marker back to him, careful not to brush his hand this time. As much as you wanted to feel his skin against yours again, you would blush too obviously to get away with it. “Thank you,” he said to you quietly, “I know at least one student will show for the practicals.”

“No worries.” You didn’t want to leave yet, allowing yourself to enjoy the being around him a little now the rest of the class was clearing out. He was wearing your favourite suit today - charcoal grey wool - with a soft, baby blue shirt and a navy tie. He was meticulous as ever: understated silver tie pin perfectly level, tie itself knotted immaculately, hair brushed back neatly. Even his shoes were perfect, not a single scuff on the leather. Being around him like this was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but talk to him just a little more as the last student filed out of the room. “What will the first practical be, out of interest?” You asked, forcing yourself to move back to your desk and slowly pack up your things.

“Just a distillation, I think...” He replied, trailing off and absentmindedly flicking through a few papers on his desk. You nodded, sensing his loss of interest, slinging your bag over your shoulder with just a hint of disappointment.

“Ok, sounds good. Thank you Professor…” You turned towards the door, but froze when you heard him call your name. You turned back around to see him looking at you slightly expectantly, a nervous energy buzzing from him that you’d never seen before.

“Before you go, I was just wondering if you’d picked an advisor yet? I know the decision is coming up in a few weeks.”

“No, I haven’t actually…” In all honestly, you had two options. And he was one of them. Of course he was. He was the best in the university, not to mention one of the best in his field. You learnt the most from him, you had the best relationship with him compared to the rest of your Professors. There were only two reasons why he wouldn’t be a perfect choice. Firstly, he was very picky with who he takes on, but if this conversation was going the way you thought it was, problem solved. The second, and much bigger, issue was your little obsession. If he was your advisor, you would see him one-on-one every two weeks at least, on top of class time, practicals time and in between all of that if you had questions. And for most people that had a crippling crush like you did, they would be jumping for joy at the opportunity to spend more quality time with them. But you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to make a move on him, or make your feelings for him obvious because it could destroy everything you had worked so hard towards. But equally, having him on your side was a great accolade, and it would do you wonders in your academic career.

You were a big girl. You could handle a little crush.

“Well…” He continued, hand running through his hair again before starting to pack up his own things. “I would very much like to fill that role unless you had anyone else in mind. You’re incredibly talented, and passionate about the subject in a way I don’t see often. You don’t have to decide right now, of course…”

“I would love that.” Your mouth had answered before your brain caught up, but his wide smile solidified your resolve.

“Excellent. Well, how does Friday sound for our first meeting? I think that’s when you’re scheduled for the practical, so that makes it easy…”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, again, Professor Hwang, I appreciate the opportunity…”

“Not at all. The pleasure is all mine.” His wide smile warmed your heart thoroughly, and you left before you could melt into a puddle on the floor at the nature of his words.

It had been a couple of months now, and dear God, it was driving you insane. You’d made a huge mistake, and unfortunately for you, it was an unfixable one. He was the perfect advisor in every way - attentive, intelligent, willing, passionate, everything you could ever want. But being so close to him was driving you crazy. Once a fortnight, it was just you and him in his office, talking for an hour, joking, laughing, fighting every urge in your body to climb across the desk and give in to your desires. You had even started to dress up for him - purposely putting in extra effort the days you knew you had a meeting. The crush was getting much worse too, obsession starting to take over. For days after your meeting, all you could do was analyse every tiny interaction you had, every time he looked at you or spoke to you or even breathed differently. And fucking hell it was driving you insane.

You were sure it was getting harder to hide too. Before, it was less of a crush, more an admiration. Yes, you were aware he was attractive, but more than anything, you were capitavated by his teaching and passion. Now, all of that was still true, but all you could think about was how much you wanted to fuck him. Twice just that week you had missed half the class caught up in a daydream, not even being able to answer him when he called on you, too busy thinking about him bending you over his desk and having his way with you. Your last paper got a B because every time you tried to write, all you could think about was him reading it. What he would be wearing when he graded it at home. Comfortable clothes, surely, hair messy and uncouth. What he would think of it, whether he would smile at your words and add little notes when he agreed with what you were saying. Whether he truly thought as much about you while reading it as you thought of him while writing it.

You’d fucked up. You’d gotten too close, irreversibly so, and now, you had to see him today. You knew he would have something to say about your grades dropping. It was getting too obvious. You just hoped he would accept whatever bullshit you managed to invent on the spot. Your knuckles rapped against his office door, heart stuck in your throat.

She had caught his eye the minute she stepped into his lecture hall that first day of term. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly about her, whether it was her eyes, or hair, or lips. Or maybe it was just her. The confidence she seemed to exude, her sense of style, the studious and determined look she always seemed to have on her face. She was the most active participant in his classes, and every time he called on her, she would answer with such enthusiasm and excitement. He could tell how much she genuinely enjoyed the subject from the very first lesson, and even as the term continued, her passion didn't waver like some students’ did. She hadn’t missed a single lecture - always there in the same spot on the third row, and he was grateful for her choice of seat. It was close enough to see her, not too close to make it obvious that he was staring, and it was also far enough into the classroom that he had time to admire her while she made her way to her seat. To watch her while she was focussed elsewhere - namely, walking down the stairs without falling over. He enjoyed the time it gave him to work out how she was feeling on a day, whether she seemed dejected or excited, shy or outgoing. He liked how easy it was for him to read her.

And, if he was honest with himself, he liked the attention too. The first time he saw her, he knew he would be head over heels for a little while, and he accepted that. She was his student, and nothing could happen, so he buried it and got on with his lectures as usual, with only a few extra glances thrown her way when he knew she wouldn't be looking. But then he noticed it. The coy smiles, the extended glances, the occasional time he caught her biting her lip or pen. The way she blushed furiously if he ever caught her in the act. The first few times, he wrote it off as coincidence and wishful thinking, but eventually, it clicked that there was something there. Something charged. And he thrived off that energy.

That was why he had put forward the idea of being her advisor. If he was honest, he knew it was a terrible idea. That it could get messy, that he could get too close, that he would hurt his own feelings. But ultimately, he wanted to be near her as much as possible, and at the end of the day, in every scenario of shit hitting the fan, he was always the one that got fucked over. His feelings were clearly stronger than hers - something he had noticed recently swelling in his heart unreciprocated - and he was the one with his job on the line. He was the only one at risk, and he was willing to take that risk to be closer to her.

Recently, though, she’d seemed different. Distracted. Stressed. Avoidant. Her grades were dropping, she was barely talking in class and when he spoke to her one-on-one, he would catch her shrinking back into herself if she laughed too much, as though she was second guessing everything she did. He’d done everything to hide his feelings, and honestly, he thought he was doing a good job, but maybe she felt uncomfortable around him. Maybe he was being obvious and he’d misread her feelings. Or maybe she was just going through a rough patch in her personal life.

He had a meeting with her today, and he couldn’t think of anything but seeing her for the whole day. What she would be wearing, how or if he would broach the topic, what he should even say to her… He was struggling to concentrate on his lectures, mind wandering to her.

The relief washed through his body when he heard her knuckles softly knock against the door. He was worried she wouldn’t even come.

“Come in.” She opened the door cautiously, small smile on her lips. She looked more beautiful than she ever had somehow. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, just some natural blush and mascara, and her hair was down and framing her face perfectly. Her outfit was simple but classy; all black, simple satin skirt and skintight tee, chunky knit cardigan over the top.

“Hi Professor.” She replied cheerily, but there was a hint of something unreadable in her voice. Weariness, maybe? Stress? “How has your day been?” He smiled as they fell into their usual chatty routine, mind slightly at ease.

“Not too bad, thank you, although a few too many lectures for my liking. How was yours?” She laughed lightly, the sound warming his heart.

“Same problem for me too. A lot of lectures, none of them particularly interesting…” it seemed as though she wanted to say something else but bit her tongue, and he couldn’t help but feel himself deflate. He wanted her to be able to feel more comfortable around him, but she was holding herself back.

“That’s because I wasn’t teaching them…” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them, but to his relief, she smiled, a small chuckle escaping from her.

“Something like that.” She paused for a beat, seeming awkward and unsure. “Look, Professor, before we get into the stuff about my dissertation, I just wanted to talk to you about something…” The serious nature of her tone made his heart lurch, and he wanted to reach out and hold her hands, to drain away her evident nerves. She wasn’t even meeting his eyes, just wringing her hands in her lap as she tried to say what she needed to.

“Of course, my office is always an open space to talk about whatever you need to.” He hoped his words were comforting, and by her small smile, they had at least offered some small reassurance.

“I just wanted to apologise. I know my grades have been slipping a little the past few weeks, and I just wanted to make sure you knew that I’m on it and I’m doing everything to get them back up. I think I’ve just been a little distracted, and I don’t know really…” She was rambling, and his heart hurt for her. Yes, he had noticed her grades slipping a little, but it was from an A to a B for maybe two papers and a quiz. It wouldn’t affect her overall grade, and it certainly wouldn’t affect his opinion of her. He couldn’t help but wonder why she felt the need to apologise or explain herself.

“You have no reason to apologise. Everyone has better weeks than others, and it’s not going to affect your performance in my class or anything like that…”

“But…” she looked confused, as though she was genuinely trying to figure out why he wasn’t annoyed with her. “You’re Professor Hwang. I mean, you’re the best in your department, maybe even in the whole university. You pick your students that you want to advise because they’re the best, and I’ve not been…”

“First of all, I definitely am the best Professor in the *whole university*, thank you, but more importantly, that’s not why I pick people to mentor. I pick people based on their passion, talent, and work ethic. Not because they’re a machine who churns out A* papers every single week and has nothing else going on in their life that might affect that.” Once he’d finished talking, he looked up at her to see her close to tears, still staring at her hands in her lap.

“I, um…” she cleared her throat, finally meeting his eyes with a gratefulness he hadn’t seen in her before. A vulnerability he didn’t recognise, but wanted to see more of nonetheless. “Thank you for saying that. Really. None of my other Professors seem to think in that way.” Then under her breath, barely audible, she added something extra. “Neither do my family for that matter.”

“Well, as I said, my office is always open. If you ever have something you need to talk about, I’m here.”

“Thank you, truly.” She replied earnestly, and found himself struggling to reply as his heart swelled. He hadn’t realised how protective he felt over her until he saw her upset, but now, hand clenched by his side at the thought of someone making her feel unworthy over a few grades, he realised that maybe his feelings had blossomed a little more than he wanted them to.

The day after was another practical class. Just a titration, a check box more than anything with the calibre of his students. They knew what they were doing. Especially her. It would hopefully be an easy half hour; just let them do their thing, tick it off in the system, and be finished with it.

What he hadn't banked on, however, was the student that seemed to spend his whole time flirting with her.

She had been the first in the classroom that afternoon. She seemed tired, the last lesson after a likely busy day, but even more so than usual, her normally flawless makeup doing little to hide the puffy bags under her eyes. Her outfit was clean and put together, but a lot more basic than what she usually wore, just jeans and a baby tee, with none of her usual quirky flourishes. He was about to ask if she was ok, to talk to her more than the perfunctory hello she had thrown his way at the door when another student entered the classroom close behind her. The whole space was empty, but he decided to sit directly beside her. She seemed annoyed, making polite small talk but not much else and he just didn't seem to be taking the hint. He was leaning too close, laughing too loud, looking at her for too long…

His own jealousy surprised him. It was rage, pure and simple, white hot and blinding. He felt inordinately possessive, wanting nothing more than to shove him across the classroom and teach him a lesson about personal space, but as more students piled in to the space, all he could do was glare and hope he got the hint. Eventually though, she solved the problem herself. He had been so close to interfering, so blinded by anger he had started to move towards her bench, but she just stood up, and walked away from him mid sentence, ignoring him completely. The look of shock on his face was priceless, but the joy it brought him was quickly replaced with anger once again as the kid shifted in his seat, blushing red and muttering ‘bitch’ under his breath. If In-ho had a knife, he genuinely could have killed him in that moment. Because how fucking dare he.

But instead, he breathed in deeply before moving over to him calmly and giving him a menacing, tight-lipped smile. The student met his eyes with a perplexed look, but he just spoke over him before he had a chance to say anything else.

“If you ever talk about one of my students, let alone a woman, like that again, you will be barred from my class and the entirety of the chemistry department for the rest of your academic career, both at this school and wherever else you may choose to study. Is that crystal clear?” He said it so calmly, so coldly, that the kid just sat there in stunned silence for a moment, and he had to raise his eyebrow to prompt him to answer.

“Um… yes… yes Professor.” He stammered, and he smiled again without any warmth.

“Good, now find a new desk and complete your practical, or else you’ll have to retake my class, and you really don't want that, do you?” He shook his head frantically, scrambling away with his things and finding a space near the back of the room.

She looked confused for a moment when she got back to the now empty bench, but on glancing around the room and meeting his eyes, she smiled warmly at him in gratitude, blush spreading across her cheeks. He would do anything if it meant she smiled at him like that.

It had been an hour, and apart from one broken conical flask, there had been no major mishaps, and almost all of his students had finished their titrations. Except for her. She was on her fourth attempt now, the last student apart from her silently filing out of the classroom, and she was getting increasingly frustrated each time. He was trying to be subtle, to not make her feel pressured at all, but he couldn't help but watch as she turned the stopcock so slightly, letting a single drop fall into the flask, and he watched it turn colour perfectly… until the stopcock wasn't closed properly, another few drops sneaking through and pushing it past the end point colour.

“Fuck!” Every other attempt, it had been a quiet frustration, hidden under her breath, but this time she couldn't help it, cursing loudly and slamming her hand on the table. He could hear her heavy breaths even from across the room, her hand dragging through her hair in annoyance. She almost looked close to tears, just staring at the failed experiment. He muttered her name in concern, standing up ready to help her, but she just shook her head, grabbing the flask and heading to empty it.

“I’m so sorry for my outburst, Professor, my language was completely inappropriate…”

“No that’s not it at all, curse all you want…” He moved over to her desk as he spoke, but she was busying herself setting up again, not meeting his eyes. So he said her name again, firmly but kindly, garnering her attention without upsetting her. It worked, and she stopped moving for a moment, slightly out of breath in frustration. “Are you ok? You don’t seem yourself at all…” She was grinding her jaw as he spoke, trying to hold her emotions back, but a tear fell from her eye regardless, rolling down her cheek. She huffed loudly, wiping it away quickly and looking to the ceiling, trying to blink back the other tears that were threatening to spill.

“I’m fine.” She insisted, but her voice cracked as she did, another tear escaping as she muttered another curse under her breath. “Sorry, I’m just wasting your time today…”

“Never.” He said firmly, moving to her side of the desk. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what going on, I just can’t seem to…” another tear rolled down her cheek, his heart broke for her.

“Hey, take a second, just breathe, ok? Sit down, cry if you need to, just take a moment.” She nodded, sitting down on the lab stool with a snuffle. He sat down too, tucking his stool slightly closer to her and waiting until she was ready.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just overwhelmed. I didn’t sleep too well last night, so I’ve been exhausted all day. One of my professors gave me shit for being late even though the bus broke down on my way here, and that ruined my mood. Another lecture turned out to be some surprise test thing nobody had prepared for so that was horrible. And… well I’m just rambling now and I don’t know if I’ve told you this yet but I might as well at this point because I guess it’s something you should know as my advisor - I have general anxiety disorder and…” she paused, catching her breath and scoffing slightly as she continued speaking quickly, “well, and a whole host of other things I don’t have time to go into but I’ve spent most of the afternoon warding off panic attacks hence the…” She trailed off, holding up her hand which was shaking like a leaf. “So I can’t focus, I can’t control the equipment even though I’ve done at least 30 titrations in my academic career and I was honestly just looking forward to seeing… to doing something practical with my day but…” He didn’t think she’d even noticed the tears starting to fall, but he did immediately. He also noticed the way her voice was getting breathier, and the increasingly frantic look in her eyes. He was worried. She seemed worn out, way too thinly strung and now here she was, crying over an experiment he knew she could do in her sleep. She needed to take care of herself for a bit, to take it easy. But right now, maybe he could help.

His hand moved to her face, brushing the tears away before moving to her shoulder and squeezing.

“Hey, slow down. Look at me. Breathe.” He took a long deep breath, his eyes fixed firmly to hers as she copied, repeating the action a few times. He watched as she slowly seemed to calm, shoulders dropping and tears drying up. “That’s better.”

“I’m so sorry, this was only supposed to take like half an hour. I’ve derailed your whole afternoon, I just don’t know what’s come over me today.” He sighed. The way she felt she had to be sorry for being human made him feel so protective of her, so willing to hurt anyone who made her feel this way.

“You’re stressed, you didn’t sleep well and your anxiety is flaring up. None of that is something you have to apologise for. And you definitely don’t have to apologise for derailing my day - my evening consists of grading papers and getting an early night. Both of those things can wait even if this titration takes all night.” She laughed, wiping away the last of her tears with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” Her hand moved to rest atop his, which was still sitting on her arm, squeezing slightly. His breath caught briefly at the contact, and it took all the self control in his body to not lean into her touch, to kiss her then and there.

“Always…” he muttered, smiling softly, and after another beat, he slid his hand away, feeling cold at the lack of warmth from her. “Now,” he took a deep breath, grounding himself to reality. *Student, teacher, do the maths - not a good idea.* “Let’s finish this practical.”

His presence was so calming to you. After four failed attempts, you were already doing a lot better - hands steady, breaths even, a serenity you hadn't felt all day. He wasn’t even helping you; just being nearby was enough. He’d grabbed a few papers from his desk and was quietly grading while you worked, the occasional turn of paper and scratch of pen relaxing you. It was starting to get to the difficult part now, but your hands didn't fail you, adding the titrate drop by drop, swirling the flask until… it stayed pink. Just enough, a soft wash of magenta, and you couldn't help but grin.

“See…” he muttered, not once looking up from his papers, “I told you you could do it.” You smiled even wider, holding back every urge within you to hug him.

“Thank you.” You settled on the sentiment instead, jotting down the final measurements. “And…”

“I swear if you try to apologise again, I will kick you out of my class once and for all.” God he knew you so well. You chuckled lightly, biting your tongue to stop you from apologising for that as well.

“Never again, I promise.”

You had packed up, moving as quickly as possible to ensure you didn't waste any more of his time, but honestly, you wanted to be around him just a little longer. Today had taught you that maybe your ever-growing feelings might not be a problem, but a help. He was so calming to be around, so good at putting your doubt and anxiety at ease, and talking to him was easy, terrifyingly so. His company was soothing, and on bad days, at least you knew you had a place to go.

And now, you had to face the long bus to your off-campus apartment, followed by an evening alone with your thoughts.

You had sorted your things, putting on your coat and pulling up the hood, bracing yourself to head out in the dark and rainy evening.

“Thank you again for everything, Professor, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Wait…” he called out your name as you opened the door, and you paused, internally sighing in relief. “How are you getting home?”

“Just the bus from campus, its not far to the station from here…”

“I’ll take you, I’m leaving here anyway.”

“No, I couldn't ask you to do that, Sir…”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Where am I taking you?” You blushed at his comment, heart leaping at the authoritative tone, but telling him anyway. “That's only a few streets away from me, it’s not out of my way at all.”

“Only if you’re sure…”

“I wouldn't have offered otherwise.”

You had made it to the awning of the building, the last moment of peace before you were bombarded by the rain. He followed you out, sighing slightly.

“Do you smoke?” He asked, and the question surprised you slightly. He’d never struck you as the type, but now, as you turned around to see him standing with a cigarette dangling between his lips, you couldn't believe how natural it looked.

“Yeah…” You were relieved. You had been desperate for one all afternoon, but hadn't had a chance. You moved to open your handbag, unsure of where you'd left them, but he had already extended his pack out towards you. You smiled.

“Thank you…” He lit yours first, shielding it with his hands for you, and you couldn't help but notice how close he was to you. He lit his own, and you watched it awe at his beauty as the lighter illuminated his face. His first drag was long and desperate, the deep sigh he let out when he breathed echoing your own relief. You wondered if that's what he’d be like when you were on your knees for him quiet but needy, hand running through his hair and…

“What are your plans this weekend?” You blushed, not at the question but what it had distracted you from, taking a drag while you composed yourself.

“Not much, just studying, finishing a few papers, the usual.”

“No plans with friends? A boyfriend?” He asked almost shyly, then blushed profusely. “Or girlfriend, or partner… sorry I didn't mean to assume.” You laughed at his embarrassment.

“No, no plans. Friends are all out of town or doing the same as me, and no boyfriend to have plans with.” You weren't sure why you felt like you had to clarify that. It was an instinct more than anything, something in you felt like he should know. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Nope, no plans either. Friends are all married with children, so they don't have weekends anymore. And my brother is out of town with work, so that just about rules out everyone.” Your heart sung at the lack of a girlfriend or wife mentioned, but you somehow managed to control your face. “I got a new jigsaw I might try…” You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that, and he laughed with you. “Sorry, I know thats like the oldest old person thing I could've said…”

“No I just… I was thinking the same thing but didn't want to seem old.” His turn to laugh loudly, a sound that warmed you through.

“You don't have to worry about that…”

“Neither do you.” You had replied quickly, without thinking, and suddenly the air was charged. He was looking you in a way that was unreadable, almost curious but there was something else brewing just under the surface. His eyes were locked onto yours, and you found yourself unable to look away, not letting yourself to be the first to break contact. You weren't sure what it was about today - maybe just because of how shitty you’d felt the last few days, how kind and caring he had been, how many times you’d been in touching distance of him - but you wanted him to know you were an option. Even if it was a bad idea, if it could ruin both of you, if it could destroy everything you'd ever worked towards… you suddenly didn't care. You needed him to know you were here, arms open and waiting, if he ever wanted you.

The car ride was quiet, silence only broken by the occasional attempt at small talk. It was as though the look you had shared earlier had shattered your ability to speak to each other normally, a cloud hanging over the both of you, threatening to pour. Eventually, you pulled up outside your building, and your heart broke that it was over. You had to leave now, to be alone in your flat, to try and relax without thinking about him. His touch, his laugh, his smell.

“Thank you for the lift.” You managed to croak out after sitting silent for a moment, voice laced with disappointment you didn’t have the energy to hide.

“Anytime.” He muttered back, and your hand moved to the door, eyes glazing over at the sight of the raindrops hitting the car window. You weren’t sure why you didn’t just leave, open the door and run inside, out of the rain, out of the tension. Maybe it was the weather, pushing you to take comfort somewhere warm and welcoming. Or maybe it was the scent of sandalwood and cigarettes that clung to the leather surrounding you. Or maybe it was the way your arm was still tingling where he had touched you earlier, his hands warm and expansive and calming. It didn’t really matter though. Regardless of the reason, you still chose to open your damn mouth one more time.

“I don’t want to wait until Monday to see you again.” Your voice was barely a whisper, barely audible, but from the way he muttered your name warningly, he heard. You flushed furiously, feeling so fucking stupid. You’d ruined everything. He was your advisor, your professor, your whole support system felled in one swoop. God, you were an idiot. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’ll go.” You reached for the handle again, tears springing to the corners of your eyes.

“Wait.” His voice was… well, you weren’t sure. It sounded frustrated, sure, but also, there was a desperation in it. A need. He didn’t want you to leave either. “God, I’ve thought about how this might go so many times and never once landed on what I’d want to say.” There was a lump in your throat, and your hands fell back into your lap, turning to see the slightly pained expression on his face, almost pleading. His hair was messy, one hand raking through it as his eyes met yours. “There’s obviously… I mean it’s undeniable the way I… but I just…” He was so nervous, eyes scanning across your face frantically. “I’m your advisor. I’m your Professor. I’m in a position of authority here, its a power imbalance and I’m old enough to…” You had sat calmly listening to him ramble, so grateful that your feeling weren’t unrequited that you didn’t care what other excuses he would try to come up with.

“I don’t care.” He whispered your name again in warning, but softer, and you could see his resolve eroding with every second he was in your presence. “I mean it. You said it yourself, it’s undeniable. And now we’ve addressed it… what’s the harm in trying?” He still looked confused, pain wrought into his features as his eyes locked onto yours. And then, it was like you could see him accept that he couldn’t stop this now. That he didn’t want to. The fear gave way to longing, his hand cupping your jaw in a way that made your breath catch in your throat.

“I need you to…” The nerves were still clear in his voice, but his hand was definite, thumb brushing your lips and you leant into the touch, body naturally caving towards his. “Please tell me your want this. I need to be sure.”

“I want this.” You were so firm in your response, so final, he had no choice but to believe you.

He leant in, cupping your face in his hand, touch so strong, so definite, that any residual doubt melted away as his lips touch yours. It was fleeting, unsure, but not a moment before he had pulled away, you pressed back into him. Your kiss was desperate and bruising, hard and needy and full of months of pent up desire. He returned so fervently you sighed into his mouth, relief and arousal washing over your body. His hand moved to grip your hair, keeping you close, and you cursed internally that you were still in the car, centre console blocking your body from his. You were desperate to touch more of him, to feel his skin under your fingers, to run your hands across the ridges of his chest and up his arms. His grip was still strong in your hair, but you broke for air, watching with a smile as his lips chased yours. His evident need spurred you on, hand moving to rest against his chest and grip the pressed fabric of his shirt as you shared the air in the space between you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He muttered half-heartedly, but his blown pupils and subtle smile told you differently.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

The elevator ride was tense, hand gripped in his, half expecting him to run away, but as soon as your door was open, his lips smashed into yours once more. His hands explored your waist, pressing you to the now closed door, body touching yours slightly. His mouth was saying something different to his body language: lips hungry and needy, body cautious. You were more confident, hands falling to his back and pulling him as close as possible to you. He groaned in response, a low guttural sound that left you panting into his hot mouth. You wanted to gasp his name, but you realised you didn’t know it, embarrassment clouding your mind. You pushed it away immediately, hands snaking round his solid form to his tie, loosening it like a woman starved and throwing it to the side.

“Hey…” he muttered alongside a pant of your name, fingers tracing your face in a tender way, “are you sure you want this?”

“More than anything.” The answer fell from your lips without you even thinking about it. You needed him. He smiled against your lips, hands trailing from your waist to your hips, an invitation. You started to undo his shirt buttons, hands finally coming into contact with his warm skin, hips bucking towards his. A moment of insecurity washed over you. You were young, younger than him by a long way, and while it didn’t bother you, you couldn’t help but wonder if being with someone with so much less experience would bother him. He’d asked for your assurance twice now, and you had just assumed he wanted the same. Maybe he was just here so he didn’t lose his job…

“Is this what you want too?” You whispered, so shy and unsure you could feel the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“More than anything.” His fingers traced your lips, eyes meeting yours, and he must’ve sensed their slightly hesitant nature. “Since the minute you walked into my classroom, I’ve wanted this.” He smiled slightly sheepishly then, eyes flitting down to scan your form. “You were wearing cord flares and a white tee, leather jacket slung over your bag. You looked so confident, so excited to be in my class… you weren’t even looking at me yet, but I saw a glint in your eye that reminded me of myself in my youth. Everything about you intoxicated me from the moment I locked eyes with you. I want this.” The last statement was so final, so raw, you gave in fully. You smiled, looking deep into his eyes to see them unwavering.

“In that case..” you muttered, puling away from his just slightly, pulling your shirt over your head before unbuttoning your jeans, letting them fall to the floor. He stepped back while you were undressing, eyes darkening as they scanned your whole body with desire.

“Fuck…” he muttered the word quietly to himself, continuing to look you up and down in a way that made you blush profusely. He followed suit quickly, slowly undoing the rest of your shirt buttons with a slight smile. You couldn’t help but gaze half-lidded at his bare form, muscles rippling with every deep breath he took. “Where’s your room?”

Your bra and his trousers were long discarded, your bare form pressed to his as he laid above you, hand resting by your head, holding him up as he devoured your mouth. His kisses were getting lower, pressing against your neck and chest as you could do nothing but pant at his every touch.

“Sir, are you…” you didn’t even finish your question, words lost in your tongue as he bit down softly against the pillowy flesh of your breast, a groan escaping his lips against you at the name you had chosen in the heat of the moment.

“Shh..” the soft sound escaped his lips as he continued to move his lips lower until his fingers hooked your pantries, pulling them down slowly, savouring your squirming.

“What are you…” your words were lost yet again as his mouth enveloped your bare pussy, tongue pressing a firm stripe through your folds. You moaned loudly, the sensation enveloping you as you pressed your hips further towards his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction at the movements from you, hands gripping your hips tightly as your thighs surrounded his head. His tongue was expert, circling your clit with perfect precision and you bucked into him again with a whimper, desperate for some direct contact. He chuckled against you, smiling up between your thighs and you could’ve cum there from the sight of him.

“Relax…” he muttered, surly tone immediately forcing your muscles to loosen, pressing into the bed. His tongue flicked across your clit, and you squirmed, pants and whines filling the room as he continued his assault on your sensitive nerves. “Good girl…” his voice rumbled against your cunt, almost pushing you to the edge there and then.

“Please…” was all you could force out, words jumbling in your mind as the pleasure started to take over. One hand released from your hips, and you barely registered as two fingers pushed inside you, thick and deep. You groaned, an animalistic noise drawn from the back of your throat as he hit the spot inside you that made you sing. Every inch of your body was on fire with need as his fingers filled you, tongue continuing its relentless attack on your clit. You were all but an incoherent mess of moans and pants as he kept going, pleasure building and building close to the point of being too much, nerves burning with desire as he feasted on you like a man starved. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to arrive, fast and brutal, blinding you as your thighs squeezed around him, sobs and whines falling from your lips as you rode out the waves on his tongue.

By the time you had caught your breath, his face was an inch from yours, pressing sloppy kisses your jaw and neck. You whimpered softly, feeling the slick he had left between your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his, blinking up at him stupidly.

“I want you…” his lips cut you off, deep and passionate as your words were swallowed by hood’s mouth. He tasted like you.

“You have me. Body and soul.” Your heart leapt at the sentiment, hand brushing through his hair with affection.

“Then fuck me.”

He was pressed against your back, and was impossibly deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your back arch. His hand was tangled in your hair again, lips to your neck as he somehow pressed deeper, and your hand found his thigh, holding him there.

“You feel so good.” You whispered, fucked out and satisfied, already multiple organs in from his perfect cock.

“I’m close baby,” he muttered against your ear, grinding against your ass as you whined for him so beautifully. He fit so perfectly inside you it felt handcrafted, and he groaned softly as he pulled out quickly, slamming back inside as his hips started to stutter. “So pretty, so perfect for me…” his hand reached around to your used clit, pressing gentle circles as you cried out. You would do anything for him, but you were exhausted and overstimulated, a few tears brimming in your eyes at the bliss and pain it provided.

“Please..” you whispered for the uncountable time that night, hips backing into his as he groaned, deep and animalistic. Your orgasm washed over you as he finally came, moaning against your neck as his teeth clamped down carefully.

“So fucking perfect…”

You felt so effortlessly relaxed beside him, sleep encroaching quicker than it ever had. You were exhausted and spent, but happy. Everything you’d wanted for months but refused to admit to yourself had come true, and tomorrow, you’d have to face the reality of it all. But for now, you were at peace, head rested against his chest and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. Your slumber had started to take you, eyes fluttering closed, when you heard his voice speak softly, as though trying not to disturb you.

“I hope this moment last forever.” You thought confirming his sentiment would somehow diminish him, or scare him off, pretending your sleep had pulled you under, but your heart swelled in agreement. You never wanted to leave this place.

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang inho #inho x reader #in ho x reader #hwang inho x reader #fanfic #in ho squid game #squid game s2 #squid game #professor au #student x professor #lee byung hun

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assembletheimagines · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do one where Bucky is your best friend and he finds out you have a praise kink and you find out Bucky has a bulge kink and one thing leads to another you now riding Bucky with his hand on your throat calling you a good girl and telling you you doing amazing while he points out how deep he is in you by the bulge. And when y'all are are done you fall asleep with him still inside you?

From- your deer fan

Good Girl

a/n: The way you came in and attacked me like this- ugh, I'm here for it lmao. Please give me more haha

My thought process is you two are friends with building sexual tension and Bucky's finally had enough.

warnings: bucky’s big, praise, smut, cream pie, a smidge of dirty talk?? 18+ to interact

You read the text, and then you read it again as you try to comprehend the little words in the bubble from Bucky.

You couldn’t believe it and at the same time you could feel the heat raise in your body as you read the texts again.

Bucky had to be joking, your friend had suddenly turned into a comedian over the last few hours of you two texting back and forth and he was joking.

But then another text popped up, now only containing your name and your breath caught in your throat as another text followed asking you to be a good girl and come over.

And so you did.

"Fuck baby, just like that, go nice and slow-" Bucky groans beneath you. His hands gripping your hips as your hand that's wrapped around his dick, slips the head of his cock inside your soaking pussy.

Your thighs were already shaking with just the head, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. Fuck, it was so big.

"Bucky, I can't I-" your hands move to rest on his chest as you slowly lowered yourself further down. You felt so full with just the first few inches you couldn't imagine the feeling of all of him.

But all thoughts leave your mind as Bucky moves a hand to your clit. A whine leaves your mouth, head falling back as his thumb rubs swift circles causing a new wave of slick to form between your thighs and make you sink lower onto his dick.

"Yes you can," he hums, his thumb never letting up as your eyes roll back and his eyes train on where you two are connected. He watches as you take more of him, your cunt fluttering around his length as he bullies his way in. "See? You're doing so well, taking everything I give you." He coos and your face flushes at the praise, squeezing his cock in response.

And that's all Bucky needs to know, his smirk growing as his eyes darken. His dick twitches inside you and your ass sits on his thighs as you take all of him. Your drowning him, your slick dripping and smearing on his pelvis and balls and you were just getting started.

"Do you like it when I tell you how good you are?" Bucky hums and moves you up a little only to force you back down onto his cock. You both groan at the feeling and your walls tighten around him again as he repeats the actions slowly, still talking to you. "Because you're doing so well, so good, god you're soaking my cock with how wet you are." He groans and your hips roll, his praise fueling your own movements as you lift yourself up and then down again.

His cock is nudging the soft spot inside you with each bounce. Your mind beginning to fog with each roll of your hips. Your eyes become glossy and you begin to babble because it felt so good, you felt so full, " s-so good." Your words slur and Bucky can't look away from you as the lust takes over and you begin to fuck yourself onto Bucky eagerly. Your movements growing in speed as you dig your nails into his chest.

"That's it," he groans hands holding your hips as your moans mix with the wet squelching noise made every time you take him all in. "I want you to make a mess, baby." He grunts and thrusts up to meet your movements, watching your tits bounce with each motion. "I want you to cum on my cock, need to see how good I'm making you feel."

Your eyes flutter close as your thighs begin to shake, the familiar burn in your inner thighs forming as the knot in your abdomen grows. Each thrust has him hitting the soft spot inside you and you're seeing stars and you can't get enough. "Bucky," his name is the only coherent thing you can say between moans and gasps and Bucky's not much better.

You feel so good wrapped around him and his eyes zone in to your lower stomach. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck-" Bucky curses as he realizes the bulge that appears and disappears with each thrust, is him. It's him.

And then you're falling forward as Bucky takes over, flipping you both so he's on top. Your legs find themselves over his arms as he snaps his hips into you harder and faster, his hand resting right over the bulge with each thrust.

He moves your hand to rest where his was and you can feel his cock move from inside you, and your mind blanks, body seizing up as your orgasm takes over suddenly. It makes Bucky curse more and move his thumb back down to your clit, his thrusts never letting up as he fucks you through your orgasm and chases after his own.

His eyes flicker down to your stomach again and with a few more rolls of his hips, he's pressing into you as far as he can as rope after rope of cum begins to fill you up inside. His mouth falling open, taking his turn to being the one babbling now. "Fuck, it's like you were made for me. Took me so well, and you're going to take all my cum, right? Be my good girl and let me stuff you full, yeah?"

#bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #assembletheimagines

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

Text

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

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daylighted · 2 months ago

Text

─ SWALLOW THE SMOKE, dad's best friend ! jackles

your dad's best friend isn't the best influence, is he? if he goes down, you're going down with him.

warnings. ( 18+ ! ) pls for the love of god don't interact with this series if you're a minor. hefty age gap. weed mention / weed smoking. slight innocent!reader & corruption arc + slight hurt/comfort. inebriated making out HAHA. word count. 4.3k

sneak into his room here!

THE NEXT MORNING IS AS UNCOMFORTABLE as one can be. the dining table is laden with breakfast, the smell of buttery pancakes and crispy bacon. two plates sat in the center of the table piled high with both, a bowl of assorted chopped fruits in between them. there's a big glass bottle of orange juice lifted between the thick fingers of—

him.

jensen looks better this morning than he had by the end of your time together. his eyes no longer hooded and empty of anything, like he'd buried all of his feelings between your legs and left them there to dry, but rather revitalized. there's a shine in his eyes, now, when they drift up to the kitchen archway you stand in.

"morning, honey," your dad greets, a piece of bacon held between his two fingers. he crunches down on a bite before he offers you a toothy smile. "sleep okay?"

you’d slept like a rock, what with how you’d spent thirty minutes locked away in the bathroom with the man ogling you over the dinner table, and then a couple more hours trying to pretend that you weren’t limping. at least you had the throwaway excuse of jetlag to explain away most of it.

jensen’s head drops to stare at his plate, pushing around the scrambled eggs on it. still, you can see the dimples breaking into the crests of his cheeks. "i slept fine," you say on a breath, dropping into the seat closest to the doorway.

"how ‘bout you, jens?" your father’s attention shifts to the other side of the table, waving the bacon around in gesture. "guest bed treat you alright?"

jensen’s left hand wraps around the glass bottle of orange juice, lifting the rim of it to his mouth. his voice echoes and muffles in the half empty glass when he says, "like a baby."

you pretend to be disinterested. you stab a fork through a strawberry in the fruit bowl, popping it into your mouth, eyes specifically averted from the bob of jensen’s throat as he drinks.

your mother slips a pancake from the hot skillet onto your plate, ruffling your hair when she passes. "mornin’, sweet girl," she says with a hum, "you gonna be okay if dad and i head out for a few hours, or do you wanna come with us?"

you think you must have missed part of this conversation, specifically not watching jensen’s adam’s apple so much that you had shut out the entire else of the world. your face twists in confusion, turning half around in your chair to prop your elbow on its back. "go where?"

"oh, just a few little errands around town," your mother says, punctuated by the click of the stove turning off. "heading down to your dad's work, picking up a few things... a little grocery shopping to keep up stock for our two guests." she flashes you and jensen a smile, and there's something so innocent about it, isn't there? how she lumps you two both in the same equation, unaware of what'd went down under their roof just hours ago?

you swallow thickly, refusing to glance over in jensen's direction. his eyes were still on you. you know what they felt like, like warm honey, dripping down the length of your body as he eyed you up. it takes every ounce of your restraint to not shift under the scrutiny. "i'll be okay," you promise, telling yourself the lie that it was not because you hoped jensen was staying, too.

what was your plan here, anyways? surely nothing good, with the way that you had to ask yourself a question like that. something like this was doomed from the jump, and yet, you chase it anyways.

"keep an eye on her, yeah?" your dad is asking jensen, sighing through his nose as he rises from the kitchen table. he tugs open the stainless steel dishwasher's door and drops his dirty dishes in before he spares you any acknowledgement. "doubtful she'll get into trouble, but—"

"dad." your face is hot, the words stuttering out of your open mouth. "i don't need a babysitter, i'm in college—"

jensen clears his throat, the simple sound enough to stop you dead in the middle of your ramblings. "actually, i've gotta head out for an hour or so, too," he waves his fork around in gesture, a tuft of scrambled eggs impaled on the prongs, "so you're safe from gettin' stuck with a babysitter, pretty thing."

the disappointment is like a double edged blade. you were free from him for a little while, but that also meant that you were free from him. your father sounds just as surprised, though he masks it better than you do. you have to remind yourself to breathe again in your momentary shock. "everything all good?"

"just a few little errands around town," he echoes your mother's words with a charming smile in her direction. when jensen's eyes make their way back to you, the clarity in the depths of the green strikes you speechless all over again. "i'll be back in time to shut down whatever party she throws in my absence."

how boring did it make you that the thought of a party didn't even cross your mind? all of the warning stories you'd heard about jensen's party animal days really had done their number on you. but on the same hand, how much trouble did it make you that you only wanted to stay home to be around him?

"i'm not going to throw a party," you scoff, and it really is that ridiculous to you, because why are they worried that their only child, the one they raised to be good, would do something like that? really, the thing they should have been worrying over was if you would fuck the forty-something guy sitting at your kitchen table. again.

maybe they were valid to worry.

you tune back in to the conversation to your parents up on their feet, clearing up the empty dishes left. you spear another strawberry, much more aggressively this time. as they tend to do, your eyes drift to the left, expectedly finding him watching you still. his hand is around the mostly empty bottle of orange juice, the neck of it in his gripping fingers, his lips to the mouth of it.

pushing out of the seat you were in, you sidestep around your parents to get to him, shoving the bottle down from his mouth with a finger on the rim. "you shouldn’t drink straight from the bottle."

"my bad, sweetheart," jensen drawls, free hand raising in his surrender, "didn’t know what i did was so heavy on your mind."

"other people could want some of it, you know," arguing just because you could; anything to make it look like you weren’t blatantly ignoring the guest in your house, "and it’s not even your house, you can’t just—"

jensen nods along as you speak, his eyebrows raising as his lips purse in mock understanding. "i get it, sweet girl," he echoes your mother’s pet name back to you, somehow making your face hotter than it already felt, "i’ll be better next time, yeah?"

it was not fair for him to get to tease you like this when he’d been the one who got weird the night prior over his own decisions. it wasn’t fair that he could smirk at you and the memory threatens to erase itself. you feel it twisting in your chest — the irritation and the strange wisps of hurt that you can’t even explain curl around your heart in a vice grip. you lift the bottle to your own mouth, thinking that it’s a power move. dominance asserted in your own house, right?

jensen only smirks, now both of his hands raised in surrender. "if you wanted something from me, you could have just asked."

you barely manage to not choke. again, he’s so shameless in front of your parents, as if the fact that you’d even given into him in the first place wasn’t something detrimental to you. he rises from his feet before you can find a response, his emptied plate in hand, pressing a polite chaste kiss to your mother’s cheek as he slips it into the open dishwasher. "thanks for breakfast, laur."

he’s gone before you can blink, the sound of the front door opening and closing behind him like its own punctuation mark. you don’t even want orange juice. jensen had won whatever game this was, anyways.

you help with cleaning the rest of the remnants of breakfast back up, getting yourself a proper plate in the process, since you’d been a little too focused on keeping up a stone-faced facade to actually eat.

"he’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?" your dad draws you from the stupor you’d fallen into, stabbing at the fruit atop your pancakes.

you blink in momentary surprise before you shake your head. "no, why?"

he hesitates, setting the dry towel back on the counter next to the kitchen sink. his arms cross over his chest, one of those half-baked smiles on his lips. "he’s a good guy, jensen, but he makes a lot of shitty decisions."

"what’s that have to do with me?" you ask, a little unsettled by whatever warning this was playing out to be. it wasn’t you who needed this talking to, you didn’t think; he was supposed to be the responsible one, wasn’t he?

your father lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "just… don’t take anything to heart that he says. he’s only here for a couple more days, which is more than enough for him to fuck something up." it wasn’t necessarily news to you, considering everything you’d learned growing up about him and his antics, but this seemed like more than just stupid drunken mistakes at frat parties. "tell me if he starts to pester you too much and i’ll handle it."

"dad, i can handle myself." you weren’t a little kid anymore. you may have been their only child, but you were grown up, now.

still, your dad waves his hand dismissively. "i know you can, but i’ve dealt with him longer. i know how to hit him where it hurts." he pats your shoulder on his way out of the kitchen.

you’re not sure how to exactly respond or think of any of that. sure, jensen was a little bit insane for pursuing you at all, but he seemed relatively fine beyond that? of course, you’d only known him properly for twenty four hours, now. the truth was its own sort of blade, held between his fingers, daring you to question its sharpness before it dug into your skin.

great. just what you needed: more alone time with the stranger in your house that you'd, somehow, let in your pants. at least there were plenty of leftovers from the party last night so you didn't have to try and swindle something to cook out of your parents' notoriously ingredient only household.

jensen hadn't returned yet. the sun was past the crest of setting, the sky deep violet and winking with stars. at least you had that, for now, but it wasn't going to last. eventually, he'd come back from whatever errands took half the day. maybe you'd get lucky and he somehow found out that your parents were at a steakhouse and dropped in.

you sat at the kitchen table again, your phone propped up on the wooden surface, doom scrolling through every social media you had until it bored you and you switched. idly, you pick at the food on your plate, knowing that you were waiting for the front door to open but refusing to acknowledge that fact to yourself.

the second the door does open, though, you drop the fork in your hand in surprise. it had to happen eventually, but it still managed to catch you off guard.

jensen had said he was running errands, and yet the only thing he returns with is a brown paper bag in his one fist.

"your errands was just getting alcohol?" you ask, leaned back in your seat to see him gliding through the entrance room of your house.

his head tilts up as he kicks off his boots, a little smirk on his mouth. "i don't think that's any of your business, little lady." little lady. you visibly bristle at that, and that only makes his dimples deepen in his cheeks. "gotta have somethin' to put up with you, don't i?"

"you weren't saying that last night." the words just slip out, your expression falling the second they are. that was stupid. you were lucky your parents were out of the house.

his face seems to reflect that, too, eyes darting into the kitchen archway as he steps through it, like he was looking for them. "last night was rough." it was, but it was doubtful that you and him were on the same page about what he meant by that. you open your mouth to attest to that, but he cuts you off. "parents not home?"

your mouth zips shut again. then, "obviously not."

"i'd watch that pretty mouth, sweetheart," jensen hums, dropping the brown bag on the kitchen countertop behind him. he rifles through it, the clink of his fingertips on the beer cans inside just proof to what you'd asked initially. "or i'm not gonna share."

your face scrunches up. "i don't want to drink tonight. they're not going to be gone for long, they're just on a—"

"i'm not talkin' about drinkin', babygirl," he says with a scoff, tugging a little ziploc from the depths of the brown bag. if you didn't already know what the rolled up joints inside were, the smell that permeates the small room gives it away. you stare at him, unimpressed. "someone was real pissy this morning when i didn't share, so i decided to try n' make it up to her."

you cross your arms. jensen mimics your stance right back.

so this was the game you were playing.

"i don't smoke." it wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. you did it once back in exam week, and the guilt of that impulsive decision had made your high one of torturous anxiety instead of something peaceful to take the edge off.

jensen fishes a lighter from his pocket, rolling the ziploc closed again, waving the both of them in your direction between his two fingers. "i'll be on the back porch if you change your mind," he hums, and the smile on his mouth is infuriatingly gentle. disappointed, even.

there was no possible way that this was the same man who'd fucked you and then didn't look in your direction for the entire rest of the night prior. you'd just assumed that you were one of his aforementioned bad decisions, something that he'd move past.

this was not part of whatever plan you had in your head to get through the rest of this weekend. him actually seeming to at least acknowledge your feelings or how he effected them was not what you prepared for.

the glass screen door to the back patio slides open and then shuts with a light thud. for a few seconds, you sit in silence at the table, gnawing on your bottom lip as the road splits in front of you. go outside, or stay in.

the smell drifts in through the open window above the sink, and your decision is made for you. you jump up to shove it closed, and isn't that just the perfect excuse to step outside and pick an argument? the story continues to write itself.

you push open the glass door, one foot inside, one foot on the golden lit back porch. jensen's sitting in your dad's favorite patio chair, the one closest to the deep blue porch swing that your mom loved.

"you should close the windows before you start doing things you're not supposed to."

jensen doesn't glance in your direction, the joint hung between his two lips as he sucks in a deep breath, the cherry of it glowing red. "didn't know i was on the same tight leash they've got 'round you," his voice is muffled, speaking from the corner of his mouth.

you falter for a second. "i'm not on a leash."

"aren't you?" then, he glances over, eyebrows raised on his forehead. his fingers pluck the joint from between his lips, smoke curling around his words. "what exactly did you learn about me, pretty girl?"

you didn't understand this shift in the conversation. you step fully out onto the back porch, leaning back against the glass when you shut it behind you. "you went to the hospital with alcohol poisoning once? you ate a worm for a couple of bucks?" his lips twitch at that one, which feels like invitation enough to keep going. "that you went to class high as a kite, once, and—"

"publicly humiliated myself, yeah." jensen's hands spread open in an invisible reveal. "what else?"

again, you don't know what he's getting at out of all of this. "um, i know about that time you dated my aunt and—"

"something that doesn't stem from one of my low points," he interjects, cocking his head to the side. "don't got any of those types of stories locked n' loaded, do you?"

you stare at him for a long while, wracking your brain for anything at all. it clicks in your mind, then, that you really don't. you'd thought that jensen ackles was a figment of your dad's imagination, a character created just to warn you off of doing certain things, for a reason: because those were the only things you'd ever been told.

"and did you ever go to a frat party?" the joint is between his lips again, bouncing with each time his lips moved.

you square your jaw, straighten your shoulders. "yes, actually."

"do any keg stands?"

"no, but—"

"probably didn't eat a worm, did you?" again, this one makes him smile, even if it feels a little disjointed.

your face twists up. "absolutely not."

"and i guarantee you've either not smoked before, or you did it and hated it, swore it off, let your parents' little warnings echo in your head in approval at it. definitely didn't date someone just to make your dad happy, considering i bet you've never dated at all."

this wasn't supposed to be how this went. you were supposed to piss him off, pick at him enough to either make him drag you back inside and up to one of your rooms, or pester him enough to get him to spill whatever secrets your dad was talking about. jensen was not supposed to look you in the eyes and tell you all of the experiences you'd, so far, kept away from.

it stung. salt in wounds you didn't know you'd even had until he took the bruises beneath his fingers and jabbed. it must show on your face that he was spot on, even if you'd never admit it out loud, because his expression shifts too.

"so sit the hell down and let loose a little, sweetheart," his voice is softer now, like he recognized that he'd pushed a little too hard and was trying to make up for it, "i'm not gonna bite."

your hesitation is less forced this time. you drop down onto the porch swing, folding one of your legs up beneath you in the process. next to you, jensen plucks the half-smoked joint from his fingers and passes it over to you.

holding it between your fingers, you suck in a slow inhale, the smoke filling up your mouth and seeping down into your lungs. jensen's eyes are on you, they're always on you, watching you with a gaze you wouldn't dare call awe, but something akin to it.

"i mean," he adds as an afterthought, waving his one hand around aimlessly, "i could bite. if y'wanted me to."

right as you make to exhale, you're choking and spluttering on a laugh. he laughs right along with you, keeling half over himself in the process. "seriously?" you ask him, exasperatedly, and all he can give is an answering wheeze.

he coughs a couple of times, shaking his head as the sound of his laughter dies in the growing darkness. "you make it so damn easy."

like you have something to prove, and maybe you do, you give him a look around the dissipating smoke you'd choked out before you take another longer hit from the joint in your mouth. your lungs ache from choking on the last one, so you can't hold it in your chest as much as you wanted to to show off, but you still manage.

"you’re so pretty, baby," jensen drawls, and this time, the awe in his eyes is evident. they’re glittery green, his lips in a lazy smile.

you hate to admit that you like him best like this. all soft smiles and warm laughs and rasping voice. he’s as pretty as pretty can be, even if you don’t fully understand where you fit in his life, or where you’re supposed to fit him.

you give him a look from beneath the dark curls of your eyelashes, unable to resist the eye roll to follow. "shut up." he laughs again in response, but you aren’t done. the high hasn’t hit you, yet, but the placebo that comes from it has you relaxing back into your seat. "you know, i don’t understand you."

jensen folds his hands behind his head. "never asked for you to understand me."

"no, you just kissed me," you argue back, and the laughter bubbles out of you all on its own. "and—"

"i could kiss you again."

you cock an eyebrow at him. he cocks one right back. again, you grin despite yourself, dropping your gaze. "you won’t."

the patio chair creaks beneath him when he leans forward. his index finger tips your chin up, his face close enough that you can see the red outlining his eyes. "is that a challenge, or a lie?"

"i think that’s for you to figure out."

you almost look away, then, not able to withstand the eye contact he’d adamant on holding, but his grin softens, only making it harder to look away. "you’re so pretty, baby," he echoes it with a reverence that can’t he faked, not easily, at least.

"you’re a terrible influence," you manage to whisper, and that’s all that you can say, your voice trailing off before you can say anything else.

jensen shakes his head though, his hand coming up to cup your cheek beneath his palm. his thumb dances across your cheekbone. "i never claimed to be good."

and when jensen closes the distance between the both of you, you don’t move away. it's different than your first kiss, much more tender and slow, too much like he might mean it when you know he doesn't.

still, your hands raise to hold his face between them, the stubble of his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your palms. you raise up from your spot on the porch swing and he curls his fingers around your waist, guiding you into the expanse of his lap. his skin is so hot beneath his clothes as you drag your hands down his chest.

jensen parts your lips with his tongue, meeting yours with the same slow-paced laziness he'd grinned at you with. like he's savoring it, every inch, of the tongue that meets his each time. you try, you really do, to not make any sort of indication that you like this as much as you do, but the little whimper in your throat slips free anyways.

he laughs, and laughs again when his teeth scrape across the inside of your bottom lip, dragging it back with him before he swoops back in to properly kiss you again.

it's just kissing, but something about the drug coursing your system has heat pooling between your legs. it's just kissing, but he's worshiping your mouth, laying down prayers with each sweep of his tongue.

you don't know how long you're like that, sitting in his lap while he laps at your tongue with deliberate slowness, getting to know every inch of what you offer to him with intimacy that can't possibly only exist for these last couple of days.

the headlights from the driveway cast two bright gold beams across the backyard, only a couple feet away from the porch you and jensen are lounging on, one slight angle shift away from exposing what the both of you were getting up to in your parents' absence.

he's the one to pull away, pressing his lips together as if he could preserve the taste of the earth on your breath and staining your lips between his. when his eyes open, there's no mistaking it: a longing that won't be there in the morning, but at least it exists, then.

you're the one to move first, even if he was the one to break it. you smooth out your clothes with hands that you pretend aren't shaking, and now, you don't look back over your shoulder when you pry the sliding glass doors open and step inside.

you make it up to your room before your parents make it inside, the door shutting behind you like a permanent seal, closing you off from them and jensen.

through your open window, you can smell the smoke from his joint, as prominent as it was outside, the only indication that he didn't move.

notes | this was going to be SO much longer and take place over the span of 3 days but i decided ... what's the rush in speedrunning all three days of his stay ! PLUS I HAVE TO BUILD CHEMISTRY OK !!! dont mind me ik what i'm doing </3

become a notch on jensen's bedpost by commenting ☠ !! @soldiersgirl @seven7lee @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @winchestersbgirl @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @lonelylonelybaby @mourningthewicked @ultravi0lence14 @1-imbroglio @hughesinthebox @angels-silhouette @blossomingorchids @chris444evr @cassiecourtemanche @writtenbyhollywood @adrienneleclerc @losers-clvb @bluemerakis @fuckedupfate @legalmente-loca @k-slla @fxckingjo @blueschevy @fitxgrld @viluren @youdontknowe @sizzlingcheesecakepanda @cupidluvzz @whyyouegg

#dahlia's ☆ journal #dad's best friend!jensen #best friend's daughter!reader #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles angst #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles one shot

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cocteaucherry · 1 year ago

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nanami x f!reader

(little thing I wrote about Nanami’s wife being insecure after the birth of their daughter)

cws- f!reader, self doubt, body insecurity, bodily fluids, p in v (unprotected), oral f!receiving, lacatation kink, nipple play, 18+, light postpartum depression, body worship, creampie

You hated the way you looked.

You stared in the mirror analyzing and observing your post birth body, the way your stomach pudge began to droop, the abundance of stretch marks coating your sides, your breasts full and aching adding to your sheer discomfort.

You adored your daughter, loved her with every fiber of your being but when the lights turned off you were left alone with your thoughts and the body you were convinced was destroyed.

This didn’t go unnoticed by your darling husband of course, he’d watch you heavily over analyze yourself as you pulled on your pajamas for the night. The way you’d wince when your rough feeling shirt clipped the underside of your sensitive breasts.

Nanami wasn't dumb, the way your face filled with worry when he proposed you have a date night just the two of you but quickly made the excuse of not going through the trouble.

“Hey sweetheart, just put her down for the night.. well for a few hours.” He smirked, rubbing his tired eyes.

You were laid on the bed in an oversized purple nightgown, you could wear a trash bag and he’d still find you to be the most ravishing woman he’s ever seen.

“That’s great, let’s get some sleep while we still can.” You said with a small yawn as Nanami crawled on the bed next to you, his strong arms wrapped around your waist causing you to wince quietly.

“Did I do something?” Nanami asked gazing up at you through his eyelashes as he took your hand in his.

“Do..” you sighed, beginning to feel the onslaught of tears form, “D-Do you still find me attractive..?” The words came out as more of a quiet plea than a question.

Nanami stared at you with an astonished look, eyes blown wide as he gripped your hand a little tighter, “Sweetheart..”

Hearing him say your name softly made you begin to sob, “Y/N, why do you not know how beautiful you are?” He pressed kisses to your knuckles keeping eye contact with you.

“I-I don’t feel it anymore..” sniffles came from you as you tried to wipe your tears, “I’m bigger now.. I have more stretch marks, I feel and look tired all the time.. and my stupid boobs hurt,” a hurt chuckle came from you as you tilted your head back.

“Sweetie.. are you aware you just birthed our beautiful daughter a month ago?” Nanami smiled softly, sitting up to caress the side of your face, “Your body is still as beautiful and amazing as it was before.” His calloused thumb wiping the stray tears away.

“K-Kento-“

He shushed you quickly before placing a soft kiss on your chapped lips, “Let me show you how beautiful you are..”

All of a sudden Nanami’s hands lifted your soft nightgown above your aching tits, his mouth then began to leave messy wet kisses on your neck.

You let out soft mewls as his rough hands palmed and squeezed at your tender breasts, beads of soft white milk dribbling out.

Nanami smirked against your neck as he dragged his lips to your cleavage, “I never want you to forget why I fell in love with you,” he hummed wrapping his lips around one of the hardened buds, his tongue graced over the bud as the smooth milk dribbled out.

“K-Ken, fuckkk,” you moaned as your hands found home in his blonde hair, gripping at the roots. His hands worked at your breasts as his lips moved on to the other bud.

He pulled off your breasts with an audible pop! As his head moved to your inner thighs, “I’ll never stop loving you, and if I do shoot me dead angel.” Nanami grinned as he saw you smile lightly, he nipped at the inner corners of your thighs slowly moving towards your panty clad cunt.

Soft kisses were placed where your clit was covered, “Think I can make you squirt through your panties?” Nanami groaned as he inhaled your scent leaving kitten licks on the damp fabric.

“Ken, please don’t tease!” You squeaked as his fingers worked on your clothed clit, Nanami’s teeth nipped at your thighs as his hips grinded into the mattress below.

“Wan’ kiss you to know kiss how beautiful kiss you are,” Nanami looked gorgeous between your legs, hair tousled, pupils blown as his fingers worked delicately.

Your back arched as you felt his tongue ghost over your clit, a whine fell from your lips as Nanami wrapped his lips over your clit. “Let go for me angel..” he hummed as the coil snapped in your belly and your panties soaked. “Fuckk, such a good girl f’ me.”

He placed one last kiss on your thigh before he sat up and began to gently palm himself through his boxers, the whole image was erotic as precum stained his boxers.

“See what you do to me angel?” He gripped his hardened cock through the fabric, “Please give me me a chance to fuck you dumb tonight.”

“K-Ken fuck!” Moans fell from your mouth as your husband continued to pound into your weeping pussy,

“Sucking me in so good, shit,” Nanami grunted out as he lifted your leg onto his shoulder planting a small kiss on your ankle, “Never thrust forget how fucking beautiful thrust you are.” He groaned out feeling your gummy walls begin to contract around him.

“‘M gonna cum Ken!” Your toes curled as you felt him speed up his thrusts, “D-do it you got it baby,” his hand came to rub quick tight circles on your clit as your walls clamped around his cock causing him to still.

“Ohhh fuck! That’s my good girl,” his voice sounded raspy as he buried himself deeper into you spilling his seed.

Pants came from both of you as he leaned over to place multiple kisses on your forehead, there was a calm silence that followed after before it was broken by Nanami.

“I never want you to forget how much of a goddamn goddess you are,”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujustu kaisen smut

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bloodibambiidoll · 9 months ago

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I Think I Could Love You (Eric Draven x Reader)

After narrowly escaping rehab you and Eric finally get some real time alone together… Technically part 2 to this fic but can be read as a stand alone. 1.8k WK, Unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, pussy eating, just a lil bit of spanking 18+MNDI

“What is this place?” Eric asks as his emerald eyes roam around the living area of the large penthouse. You turn toward him with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes and a devious little smirk painted on your pretty lips.

“I used to work for the owners. Cleaned the place once a week. Suckers didn’t change the combination lock. It’s a vacation house and they only come here in the summer so we’ll be good.” You look up at this beautiful broken boy that you hardly know but already can’t imagine your life without. You had just run for miles, narrowly escaping the rehab facility and you both smelled like sweat, your hair was a mess, your pink sweatsuits and faces are both smudged with dirt but you’ve never wanted him more.

You and Eric fucked in probably every secret place possible of that building, always quickies in quiet, dark places. But knowing no one will bother you here and that you can truly enjoy him for the first time has your pussy clenching around nothing. You run your hands down his clothed chest while you stare into his eyes with your bottom lip secured between your teeth. He looks down at you through hooded eyes, holding you in that hypnotic soul reading gaze. It’s almost like he can read your mind.

“You want something, angel?” He cups your face in his large tattooed hand and his thumb traces the apple of your cheek, the side of your nose around your mouth before finally pulling your bottom lip from between your teeth with a pop. Eric runs his thumb across it, smearing your spit around. You dart your tongue out and run it along his digit before taking it into your mouth with a hum and it pulls a low groan from him. “Use your words. You know I’ll give you whatever you want.

You swirl your tongue around his thumb before sucking on it hard and pulling back so it falls from your mouth. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? You want me to fuck that tight little pussy?” Eric’s other hand comes up to wrap around your throat lightly as his eyes bore down into your own.

“Yeah, fucking ruin me.” Eric exhales deeply through his nose as he tightens his grip around your neck and pulls you forward to lock your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue darts into your mouth, intertwining with your own and he wraps one of his long arms around your waist, pulling you close. He stands there kissing you like it’s the last thing he will ever do for what could’ve been minutes or hours but you were so wrapped up in him you could hardly tell.

Eric pulls back enough to place sloppy kisses along your jaw and down your throat. His fingers grip onto the hem of your sweatshirt before pulling it over your head and tossing it behind him somewhere in the room. His lips brush against your skin again as he kisses and licks across your collar bones and down your chest. He sucks hard on the top of your boob, not stopping until he’s sure it’s left a mark before taking a nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it then switches to the other side, giving it the same treatment. He loops his arm around your waist tightly and uses his large foot to sweep your feet off the ground before lowering onto the plush carpet. Eric makes quick work of the rest of your clothes, taking off your shoes and sweats, leaving you in nothing but a thin pair of lace panties.

“Fucking look at you.” His eyes burn with the perfect mixture of desire and adoration. It makes your insides melt and has your panties getting impossibly wetter.

“You’re so beautiful.” Eric runs his hands down your body, stopping to grab your tits before continuing down. He caresses your stomach and leaves feather light touches along the band of your underwear then his large inked hands grip onto your thighs. He pulls them up and apart revealing the large wet spot in the white lace. “And so fucking wet for me.”

He runs his fingers along your clothed slit and presses slow circles into your clit. Eric grips onto your panties and you hardly have to miss his touch because the minute they’re off he’s gathering your wetness with his digits before thrusting two knuckle deep inside of you. A long drawn out moan slips from your lips as he curls his fingers up toward your sweet spot and brings the pad of his thumb to your clit.

“Oh, f- fuck.” Your eyes roll back and your back arches off the ground as you fall apart embarrassingly fast for him.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Come for me.” The pace of his fingers doesn’t let up until your pussy stops pulsing around them, he pulls them from inside you and brings them to your lips. You take them into your mouth and glide your tongue along every inch of them, sucking them clean. “Good girl, taste yourself.”

“I wanna see you.” You whine as you paw at his sweatshirt and Eric smirks down at you before reaching behind him to pull it over his head. He does the same with his shirt before standing up to kick off his shoes. He pushes his sweats and boxers down, letting his cock spring free as he towers above you like a god. This is the first time you’re seeing him fully naked and god he’s perfect. Tattoos on every inch of his skin, perfectly toned, you want to lick along the V-line leading down to his thick cock before taking it into your mouth and deep throating him until you’re choking on it.

“I know what you’re thinking, there will be plenty of time for you to be on your knees for me. But right now I need to be inside you.” Eric bends down and grabs onto your hips before manhandling you onto your feet and throwing you over his shoulder. You giggle as he marches toward the bedroom with you dangling over his back, his very perfect ass bouncing against your cheek with every step.

He throws you on your stomach onto the bed before landing a harsh smack on your ass that has you yelping and jolting forward. Eric gives the other cheek the same treatment before grabbing onto the fat of your ass and spreading your cheeks for him. You’re so wet you can hear your pussy lips come apart as he pulls you open and closed for him. He leans down and shoves his face into your pussy, running his tongue along your dripping folds.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck.” You whine and push your hips back into him when he slides his tongue into your pussy and starts to fuck you with it. His perfect nose brushes up against your asshole as he eats you like a man starved. Eric’s fingers find your clit and begin to run circles around it in time with the flicks of his tongue.

“You taste so sweet, fuck.” His words vibrate against your core and it has euphoria washing over you. You cum on his tongue hard as your fists desperately claw into the sheets and your toes curl. “That’s it, baby, give me your cum.” Eric runs his tongue from your clit to your ass, swirling your tight hole a few times. He gets back on his feet and grips onto your ankles to pull you to the edge of the bed. He takes his cock in his hand and runs the tip through your wetness before tapping your clit a few times and lining up with your entrance. He thrusts into you to the hilt with little resistance due to how wet you are for him. But no matter how many times inside he’s you, you think you’ll always feel that slight burn due to how thick and long his dick was. Eric grips onto your hips and starts to fuck into you with reckless abandon, the sound of skin smacking together and your wails practically bouncing off the walls.

“Fuck, Eric, it’s so good - it’s so fucking good.” Drool drips from your chin onto the bed beneath you as you lay there and let him fuck you for all your worth. His fingers lace through your hair and use his grip to pull your head back so far your front half is raised off the bed with your back against his sweaty chest. The air smells like sweat, musk, and sex and it only turns you on more. Little moans and whimpers leave your lips, having been accustomed to your sneaky rendezvous but that wasn’t going to cut it for him. His free hand grips onto your jaw and squishes your cheeks together.

“I wanna hear you scream for me.” Eric practically growls into your ear as he fucks you without mercy and it has a loud moan ripping through you. You scream his name over and over again like a prayer as white hot pleasure washes over your entire body. Your pussy clenches around him while you fall apart on his cock and it has him feeling closer to the edge himself. He bites down on your shoulder so hard you’re sure it’ll leave a mark before using his grip on your hair to shove your face into the mattress.

“So perfect, so tight, I’m going to film you up so good, fuck.” Eric’s cock twitches inside of you and his hands rest on either side of the mattress as he covers you with his body while he empties inside of you. He pants as he comes down from his high and nuzzles his face into your neck, practically crushing you with his body weight. You both lay there for a moment, a mess of sweat and cum. But you don’t even care. He feels so good. Being with him feels so perfect. Like all the wrongs in your life have lead you to this moment. After a bit Eric rolls off of you with a groan, his now soft cock slipping from inside you causing his huge load to drip down your thighs. He rolls onto his back and you turn on your side toward him, resting your hand on his chest so you can gaze up at him.

“I’ve never loved anyone before. But, I think I could love you.” You say it so quietly he can hardly hear you, but he does and it makes heat wash all over his body. No one has ever loved him. Not even his own mother.

“Yeah? I think I could love you too, Angel.” He gives you that smile that you so desperately wanted to see the first time you saw him glaring at one of the doctors back in the facility and it makes you melt.

“Yeah? Well we fucking stink. We need a bath.” You both start busting up laughing before he takes your face in his hand and kisses you gently, hoping you can feel all the promises he isn’t ready to say out loud through his lips.

Divider is by @saradika-graphics

#Dolly writes #the crow 2024 #the crow 2024 fanfiction #eric draven x reader #eric draven fanfiction #eric draven smut #Eric Draven x reader smut #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard smut

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blindmagdalena · 7 months ago

Note

I know someone's already asked for the voice kink a couple times which I love your writing for those frfr but have you ever considered doing a hand kink prompt for homie? If I'm being real his hands are pretty

18+! 1.4k homelander x reader. finger sucking, vaginal fingering, grinding, dirty talk.

The first time you saw Homelander’s naked hands, the reveal left you feeling scandalized. His fingers are long and lithe, but not spindly. His nails are always clean–one positive thing you can say about those gloves–and nicely manicured into a rounded shape.

Pronounced veins create sprawling patterns on the backs of them, disappearing into the spaces between his knuckles. His wrists are slender enough to look delicate, but the thrum of power in his touch proves they aren’t.

Suffice to say you’ve been obsessed with them ever since.

“Y’know, it takes real talent to make hand-holding feel perverse,” he says one day, one corner of his mouth arched in a lazy smile.

Days like this are your favorite. You’ve both been awake for hours, but getting out of bed hasn’t crossed your mind once. Not while you’re tucked in against him, his arm around your body, his hand cupped between yours.

His hands have been at the mercy of your reverence for the majority of the morning.

“What’s perverse?” you ask with a laugh, absently sliding your fingertips up and down the space between his fingers, your touch light and slow.

“You are,” he says, smile widening. “Never had my phalanges edged before.”

“I just like your hands, I think they’re beautiful,” you say, pressing your thumb up his palm in slow, firm slides. You move up each finger, feeling tiny knots disperse beneath the pressure like wood crackling in a fire. “And since you insist on hiding them so frequently, I have to take advantage where I can.”

“I do love it when you take advantage of me,” he purrs, his free hand sliding down your hip, gripping the meat of your thigh.

You grin, bringing the tips of his fingers to your lips so that you can kiss each and every one of them, finishing with his thumb.

His gaze drops to watch, fixated on the plushness of your mouth, and how it moves. You wet your lips with a swipe of your tongue that he follows with predator quickness. His rapt attention makes you feel as powerful as he is, all that raw power thrumming in the very hand you hold in yours.

Tentatively, he tugs at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, eyes never leaving your mouth.

Watching him in turn, you open your mouth and take him into it, teeth scraping over his knuckle. His eyes darken at once, his own lips slightly parted, mirroring you subconsciously.

His thumb, like the rest of his hand, is smooth and without callouses. He tastes clean to a near clinical degree, but there’s a faint salt tang to remind you he’s still human. You trace the veins along the back of his hand before interlacing your fingers with his and squeezing.

With a sly little smile, you bite down just behind his knuckle while pushing your tongue against the pad of his thumb.

Homelander makes a rough noise in the back of his throat, his nails biting dull crescents into your thigh. His throat clicks dryly as he tries and fails to swallow back his hunger.

Pulling off of his thumb with a wet pop, you kiss a trail from his thumb to the divot between it and his index finger, moving leisurely. His skin is growing warmer and warmer against yours, and from where you’re holding his wrist, you feel his pulse quicken.

Particularly when you take his finger into your mouth again, savoring the way it seems to hum against your tongue.

The feel of him reminds you of the static that would collect on old CRT screens; an invisible force that makes your tongue tingle. Beyond his beauty, he is otherworldly down to the core of his being. Unlike anyone you’ve ever been with.

It’s no wonder you’ve become addicted to him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, enraptured by the sight of you taking him to his last knuckle, your tongue swirling around his finger.

His hand on your thigh moves and suddenly you’re moving, too. He manhandles you effortlessly onto your opposite side, his finger slipping from your mouth.

He repositions you to put your back to his chest, and with his arm under you, he brings his hand right back to your mouth, coaxing your lips open with his fingers.

Naturally, you greedily swallow down two of them without hesitation.

He groans softly at your ear, kissing the sensitive spot just behind it. Meanwhile his other hand moves down your side, down your belly, slipping into the space between your thighs.

“So warm,” he murmurs, and you’re not sure if he means your mouth or your cunt, his fingers toying with your clit, but you don’t care. You shiver, letting out a quiet moan of your own against his fingers. “So soft.”

You start to match his strokes, drawing back to lick at just the tip of his middle finger the same way he’s teasing your clit.

He catches on quickly, pushing his fingers further back to massage your cunt, only to suddenly pull them away.

You protest with a sharp little nip, but he doesn’t stay gone for long. You hear him suck his own fingers into his mouth–a mental image that by itself makes your pussy throb–and all at once his fingers are back upon you, wet and pushing in.

You moan, pulling his hand to take his fingers deeper into your mouth, tongue pushing between them. The feel of him is absolutely unreal, and everything you enjoy about him on your tongue and your lips is amplified tenfold when he’s sinking into your cunt.

With his fingers buried inside you, he presses you firmly back into him and grinds his cock against the curve of your ass, already hard.

You purposefully arch back into him, hollowing your cheeks sucking on his fingers, bobbing your head in time with his fingers pushing in and out of your pussy.

It feels like heaven to have both of his hands inside you, fucking you, pinning you against his chest where you can feel the tension of his restraint, of his power.

With a rough little gasp you pull off of his two fingers only to take three instead. To your delight, he takes the hint and adds a third between your legs, the aching stretch so good it makes your thighs quiver and clench.

“Fffuck,” he grits out, matching his own pace with how he grinds against your ass, smearing wetness from his leaking tip.

You can feel how close he is by the faint tremble of his hand, how he’s holding himself back.

Not to be outdone, he angles his thumb to work your clit, the shock of sensation causing you to bite down on his fingers suddenly.

It makes him moan.

“That’s it, bite down hard, sweetheart. Lemme feel how bad you want it,” he says, the dam officially broken. “You know you can’t hurt me, don’t you? So do it, bite all you want. You like my fingers so much, you’re gonna cum spitroasted on them.”

It works. His words push you over the edge you’d been teetering on, plummeting you down into a surge of pleasure that washes over your entire body, that makes your breath halt and your jaw clench.

While your release is a silent and internal thing, Homelander’s is not.

He growls in your ear, mercilessly fucking you with his fingers through the quakes of your orgasm. He’s murmuring filth and desire and need until he’s choking on the words, gasping his pleasure as he comes against you, a wash of white hot deliciously searing your ass and lower back.

By the end of it you’re both panting, bodies slack against the bed, his hand splayed on the pillow next to your head, his fingers still buried in your quivering cunt.

With what strength you can muster, you slip your hand into his, interlacing your fingers and squeezing. He returns the gesture, stroking your hand with his thumb while he recovers.

“S’mazing…” you slur, tongue and body blissfully loose.

He peppers soft kisses along your neck, nuzzling against you. “Told you it was perverse.”

“You made it sexual.”

“You complaining?”

You don’t respond.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, his smile audible in each word.

Staring at your hands interlaced on the pillow, you smile, too.

They look beautiful together.

“I love you.”

He squeezes your hand. “And I love you.”

#i too adore his hands so much #i looooved this prompt anon thank you!!!#it feels like it's been AGES since i got really into a smut prompt!#i started working on it literally the second i got it on friday(?) but i had to finish gilded cage before i could finish this one lol #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #ask and you shall receive #darling anon #homelander x you #my writing #smut

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dirtylittleheart333 · 11 months ago

Text

DEATH OF ME

Watching Chris shaving does things to you...and you're going to do things to him.

Paring: Chris x f reader Contents: 18+ Smut. Edging. Oral. Penetration. More.

‘’Good morning,’’ you said cheerfully as you walked through the threshold from the bedroom into the bathroom. The dark tiles were cool under your feet as you walked to Chris, standing in front of the basin, a fluffy sage green towel wrapped low around his waist. He had just rinsed his mouth; the smell of minty toothpaste clinging to the air and he was putting his toothbrush away when you smacked his hard, sexy ass.

Chris burst out laughing and shook his head as you giggled and hopped onto the dark top counter between the two basins. You flashed him a big smile as he reached out with his hand, grabbed your chin, and brought your face closer to his, meeting halfway.

‘’Good morning, gorgeous,’’ he said, in a husky morning voice, and planted a kiss on your lips. When he pulled from the kiss, he grinned, ‘’hmmm, coconut today,’’ he said of the lip balm now transferred to his lips.

‘’Yup,’’ you said and reached over to your side of the basin and grabbed a bottle of perfume. You sprayed two pumps on either side of your neck and put it back as he looked at you and scratched his stubble, fist on his chin, then carried on scratching up his cheek.

‘’I gotta shave. That new? What’s that called? It smells good,’’ he said, and dropped his hand onto your knee.

‘’Good girl,’’ you replied and Chris let out a rambunctious laugh, making you smile. You loved his laugh – it had a way of bringing light to the darkest of days. It was always genuine, authentic and filled with joy.

‘’Good girl? You’re far from a good girl y/n!’’ he teased and squeezed your knee.

‘’I…I…yes…I can be,’’ you said feigning shock and stuttering a little making Chris laugh again, as he raised his brows in disbelief

‘’Okay,’’ Chris said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, ‘’stay there, I’ll be right back.’’

‘’But…but I can be,’’ you called after him as he left the bathroom. You got no reply as you started swinging your legs and secured your towel wrapped around your body, tucking it in tighter. A minute later Chris walked back into the bathroom, giving you a big grin, and put a piece of paper on the lid of the closed toilet lid.

‘’We're just going have a normal conversation...you and me…I’m gonna shave and you’re going to tell me why you always walk around for half an hour with your towel wrapped around you after you’ve showered and brushed your teeth and you do…all the things you woman do,’’ he said, and waved a hand around before he opened the tap and splashed water onto his stubble., then filled the basin with water.

‘’I didn’t think it bothered you,’’ you said, tilting your head slightly to the side

‘’Oh, baby girl. There is nothing you do that bothers me, especially walking around in just a towel knowing you have nothing under there. How many times have we fucked because of that?’’ he said and grabbed his tin of shaving gel and shook the can. ‘’I could fuck you every time, but I try to be a good boy sometimes to see how long I can hold out.’’

‘’Yeah? How often does the good boy win?’’ you asked and bit your bottom lip

‘’Not often,’’ Chris said with a laugh and popped the lid off the can. He cupped his left hand and sprayed a blob into it, the colored gel expanding as it turned into a while foam.

You curled your bottom lip between your teeth and placed your palms flat on the counters edge on either side of your legs. Your fingers curled around the edge and you gripped it firmly as the scent of the shaving foam drifted your way. The masculine, clean notes filled with a spicy undertone was arousing to you while you tried to pull your eyes off of him as he rubbed his hands together and then lifted them to his face.

You had always found Chris shaving sexy as fuck. It was so… incredibly masculine, so raw. It was the way he concentrated. It was the way his muscles flexed when he lifted the razor and pushed it lightly against his flesh. It was the way he glided the razor over the stubble, the contours, and chiselled jaw to leave softer-than-soft skin.

‘’What?’’ Chris asked with a smile looking at you in the big mirror before him as he smoothed the cream onto his cheeks.

‘’It’s…strange how I never know if I prefer you with stubble or without,’’ you replied

‘’Good thing you can have both ways every day,’’ he said and rinsed his hands

‘’True,’’ you said and grinned when you saw his eyes travelling up and down your body in the mirror.

‘’It’s kind of hot in here from both of us showering,’’ you said and watched as the corners of Chris mouth twitched after he had licked his lips.

‘’It is baby girl,’’ he responded and picked up his razor

Fuck. You pushed yourself off the counter just as Chris put the razor to his face and you began making your way to the door.

‘’Uh, where are you going?’’ Chris asked and quickly put his razor down and stepped to the door. Since he was closer he got there first and he pushed the door closed.

‘’I’m going out. Leaving the bathroom. So you can shave,’’ you said and flashed him a grin.

‘’I want you here though. Don’t you touch that door,’’ Chris said and stepped back to the basin. He picked his razor up again and began shaving.

‘’Oh?’’ you asked softly and pulled your towel loose, letting it drop to the tiles. Chris’s eyes flicked to your reflection and he stopped shaving, holding the razor perfectly steady in place. A smile curved on his lips. He moved his gaze back to himself and continued shaving.

‘’You’ve never told me how you keep your little pussy so damn smooth,’’ Chris asked

You waited a few seconds before answering, knowing he would look at you if you didn’t answer immediately. Aaaand, there it was. He shifted his eyes to look at you again and you gave him a seductive smile as you slid your finger between your slit.

‘’Oh, lazer hair removal,’’ you said and Chris flinched ever so slightly when saw your finger at your pussy. You knew he had nicked himself, but you also knew it wasn’t bad – he never cut himself badly. It was, if he did, the tiniest of nicks.

‘’It’s not gonna work, baby girl,’’ Chris mumbled ever so softly under his breath. It was so soft you weren't sure if you had actually heard him correctly, but when his eyes moved to you again, you knew you had heard right.

You let out a breath, a smile on your face as you padded back to the counter and hopped on again, Chris’ eyes following you. The second your ass hit the top, he pulled his eyes away and looked at himself again. You lifted your leg closest to him and put your foot on the counter, then you turned your head and rested it on your knee, your cheek a makeshift cushion.

He really was a sexy fucker. You had studied him many times, like this or while he was sleeping and you lay away with insomnia. From his hair still damp at the tips to the tip of his nose, his lips, his jaw, his earnings just catching the light…he was perfect. You watched as he moved the razor to his cheek closest to you and a shiver ran down your spine as he dragged the razor. He then lifted it, brought it down to the basin, and rinsed it, the sounds of the water reminding you of…

You closed your eyes and squeezed them shut, breathing in the scent of the shaving cream again.

‘’Chris?’’ you said softly

‘’Yeah baby girl?’’ he asked and clearly looked at you because you heard him put the razor down quickly and then you felt him gently placing his hand on your leg. ‘’You okay babe? What’s up?’’ he asked, concern filling his voice

You opened your eyes and looked into his. They changed from worry to relief to love in a matter of seconds as a smile crossed his gorgeous lips.

‘’Drop the towel,’’ you said and Chris let out a short laugh and pulled his hand away from your leg bringing it to his waist. You watched, your heart beating faster as his fingers grabbed the fluffy material and gave it one good tug before it fell the short distance from his body to the floor. A groan escaped your luscious lips and he grinned at you before picking the razor up again. He only had two more strokes left.

You lifted your head and let your leg drop back down to dangle off the counter again. Chris's eyes swept over you again before he put the blade back to his face but not before he had to shift on his spot. You grinned, as every nerve in your body tingled with pure pleasure. He had a perfect ass, not to mention a perfect dick that was coming alive with every breath.

You tired to ignore the rapid wetness between your legs but you couldn’t ignore the little pulses as you bit your bottom lip. ‘’I want to see your dick. I want to watch it drip pre-cum while you’re busy.’’

‘’I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight,’’ Chris said with a laugh and looked at you as your hungry eyes tentatively looked at his dick.

‘’I don’t know how much harder we could get. You fuck me senseless most of the time, Chris. How do you get hard so fucking quickly?’’ you asked

‘’It’s what you do to me. That’s all you. It remembers where it’s been and wants to go back. It’s like…home. Can’t blame it, really’’ Chris said throwing you a grin, and threw the razor into the sink with water, making a plopping sound.

He turned to you and wrapped his fingers around his shaft and stroked himself slowly and a moan escaped your parted lips as pre-cum formed on the tip of his dick, glistening in the light.

"Oh fuck," you moaned, and lifted your hand, curling your pointer finger, beaconing him,‘’Chris, baby…come here.’’

Chris grinned wider and stepped over the towel, as you shifted yourself and opened your legs even wider. When he stopped in front of you, sliding between your legs, you smiled at him and lifted your hand, then gently placed it on his soft, smooth cheek and brushed some foam off the tip of his nose.

‘’So smooth,’’ you said softly and tilted your head only slightly to the side and pressed your lips softly to the tiny nick on his cheek. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ you said, whispering this time.

‘’Just like you,’’ Chris said huskily, his hands gliding up your thigh, ‘’and I’ll take a million cuts for you.’’

"Turn around,’’ you murmured with a smile

Chris raised his brows, a curious look on his face, but his smile grew as he twisted, amazed at the power of so few words. With Chris between your legs, he felt your breasts press softly into his back as you wrapped your arms around him, sucking slowly on his neck. Your fingertips danced over his nipples, as you sunk your teeth into the flesh of his neck, drawing out a groan from him. His hands gripped your legs as you slid your hands down his torso, down his stomach and his dick twitched, the tip glistening with pre cum, anticipating your heavenly hands. Wanting desperately to taste him, you slid one of your hands over the head collecting his pre-cum, and you brought it up to your mouth as your free hand took over, grabbing his dick, your fingers curling around his thick, hard, long shaft.

Making sure you were close to his ear, you licked your fingers, softly, moaning, sending a shiver running up his spine, and goose bumps running down his arm.

‘’You taste so fucking delicious,’’ you whispered and began pumping him…slowly at first but progressively building it up to where he dug his fingers into your thighs and bucked his hips in rhythm with you. "Ohhh, ffffuck." he moaned, his breathing starting to labor, his grip on your thighs increasing. "Don't you cum," you whispered into his ear, squeezed harder, milking his dick, "Don't you fucking cum. Ride the edge, baby."

Chris was moaning, lost in the overstimulation. He felt his orgasm rise from within himself, his head falling back onto your shoulder and his body went rigid, his orgasm was about to swallow him whole. You knew all the tell-tail signs and you smiled, then released your hand around his dick. "Not quite yet, baby,’’ you said, wrapping your arms around him, as he turned his face so he could kiss you. You smiled at him, at his eyes completely glazed over and lost in the moment. His lips curved into a smile before he captured your lips, sliding his hand back into your hair and pulling you closer as his other stroked your thigh.

When the hungry, frantic kiss ended you giggled, "I'm sorry, baby. I want your cum in me. In my pussy." Chris turned back around, his dick trailing pre-cum as it dragged along on your thigh, his hands cupping your titties as he smiled.

‘’You’re gonna be the death of me. I fucking love you with an ache I’ve never felt before,’’ Chris said and dropped his hands onto the tops of your legs. He gave you a cheeky, devilish grin before he gripped them tightly and yanked them wider, making you gasp. You pushed your arms back to steady yourself, your hands flat on the countertop as Chris ducked between your legs. Looking down, Chris’s eyes slid up your body before his eyes met yours, his mouth just inches from your pussy. You both smiled and Chris’s eyes dropped again. He sucked in a breath when a drop of your sweet juice made a tiny rivulet and ran down your pussy, tempting, teasing him. He restrained himself from taking his dick and pushing into you, instead, he lifted his eyes again and slid his tongue over you. Your face scrunched up while your smile folded, parting your lips as you let the pleasure course through your body. Chris was a master – he knew exactly which spots to tongue fuck, lick, kiss, and suck.

‘’Oh fuck yes!’’ you moaned, rocking your hips, rubbing your slit over his mouth and tongue as he worshipped you, devouring your pussy. Chris groaned biting softly before pulling away slowly, but you lifted a hand off the counter and planted it on the back of his head, not wanting him to stop.

Chris laughed and shook his head slightly, hooking his arms around your thighs. He pulled you hard, your ass sliding on the counter top, bringing you even closer to him so you were melting into him. He lifted your ass off the counter and nothing could have prepared you for the way he ate you out.

‘’Jesus, Chris,’’ you moaned, throwing your head back as he reached your clit. He nudged it with his tongue and circled it over and over, drenching it in saliva before placing his lips on it, sucking wet and hard. You were gushing in his mouth, panting, searching desperately for your release. He placed your one leg over his shoulder to free a hand, bringing it to your pussy. He slipped two fingers in and released his lips from your clit for a second to smile – you were so tight and so wet, but he got back to work the second you ground your hips and moaned loudly.

‘’Yes, yes, yes Chris!. Fuuuuuck. I'm gonna cum,’’ you groaned and he pressed his face harder into your pussy. Moan’s bubbling out of you as your body quaked with pleasure and then went rigid. He slipped his fingers out as you ground your pussy into his mouth and gushed your wetness into it.

Chris sucked and swallowed, moaning as he drank your cum down all while making sure he had a good grip on you for when you came down from your pure bliss. When your legs started shaking, Chris pulled away from your pussy and watched you, enjoying watching all of you while making sure you were okay. "You eat pussy so fucking good," you said between breaths coming down from your high, smiling like the cat who got the milk. Almost. Soon. Chris gently lowered your leg as you slid back, and up into place, still shaking a little. ‘’Only for you baby,’’ Chris replied and placed his thumb on your chin, the rest under it, tilting your head up. ‘’You okay?’’

‘’More than. It’s time to fill my pussy,’’ you replied with a smirk

‘’I’m with you and more than happy to oblige,’’ Chris said and in one quick, smooth move he easily scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder while you squealed in surprise.

You laughed, draped over his shoulder, as his arm held your upper legs while you kicked with your lower legs as he turned, ‘’I unlocked the caveman!’’ you said through your laughter and smacked his ass.

‘’Fuck!’’ Chris said through a laugh and smacked your ass back, only harder. He knew it too, because he gently rubbed it as soon as the whack sound reverberated around the bathroom. He absolutely knew you could take it though – more than.

Chris wasted no time and threw you onto the bed as soon as he reached it. You squealed again, bouncing slightly, but you steadied yourself with your hands and feet on the cloud-like comforter. Chris grinned as he got onto the bed and steadied himself between your legs.

‘’I have a surprise for you. Let me up when you feel you’re at around the half way mark,’’ you said opening your legs wider

‘’Half way mark? Fuck, babe, how -’’ Chris said as he burst out laughing

‘’Just try,’’ you said, lifting a foot and putting it on his chest and pushing him playfully, chest heaving with excitement, eyes filled with need and lust, pulling your foot back on the bed again. Chris grinned, then grabbed a fistful of your hair, tilting your head back hard and kissing you roughly. "Alright then."

You winked at him when he pulled back and sat between your legs, his knees digging into the bed, grabbing his dick, slowly pumping it, knowing you loved it.

‘’Just fuck me,’’ you said gripping the duvet with anticipation and Chris grinned. He spit on your pussy making you close your eyes and drop your head back, as you took in a sharp intake of air. It was so fucking hot when he did that. Your eyes snapped open though when he pressed the head of his dick into you, also lowering himself to kiss you. Your pussy clenched on his dick head and you moaned into his mouth as he slid slowly into you. Your pussy squeezed and squeezed, then slowly relaxed as he pushed deeper into you, inch by inch.

This was Chris’ favorite part. You were ecstasy to him and when he was inside you, he was one with you. He raised his hips and pushed fully into you, moaning at how good it felt. The way you hugged and squeezed his cock…then he pulled back and started thrusting like an animal in heat. He plowed into you without reprieve, the room growing warmer each second. You clung to the comforter like your life depended on it, almost nonstop moaning and growling with pleasure as he bottomed out inside of you with each hard, savage thrust.

He had no idea how long he had been ploughing into your and neither of you really cared when his orgasm rose in him like a demon.

‘’Ohhh fuck, Chris,’’ you said through clenched teeth as your own orgasm reached new hights as he rammed balls deep into you, slamming into your cervix. Chris looked at you, his eyes locked, breathing hard not knowing what to do. You were about to cum and he would never deprive you…he adored when you came but he knew you wanted to tell him when the half way mark was…he was far beyond the half way mark.

You reached out and grabbed his forearms, digging your nails into his flesh as your eyes grew wide, your lips parted, drawing in air. Chris saw your lips move but he was lost in his own orgasm pushing forward. When you closed your eyes and let out a scream to deafen the deaf, and you’re juices splashed again him, Chris's orgasm hit hard, filling you with his cum.

He kept pumping into you, even as his body instantly wanted to relax. His dick was still hard, so it only took a minute or two before his body started reacting the way he wanted it to. You felt him fill you up but said nothing when he continued pumping inside of you. You could never get enough of him and it only meant you would cum again soon. Chris sat back after a few more minutes though and took hold of your thighs, just behind the knees, as he slowly pumped in and out, in and out before he came to a stop and pulled slowly from you, making you groan with the absence of his big dick in you. "You are so perfect," he said, admiring your naked body, ‘’I’m sorry baby. When you started cumming, I -’’ "You’re perfect," you said, cutting him off, your eyes smoldering with desire. ‘’Don’t worry about it…just let me on top.’’

‘’I…’’ Chris said with a laugh and you looked down at his still hard dick, covered in combined cum and you tilted your head.

Chris burst out laughing and grabbed his harder-than-steel dick and gave your pussy a smack, ‘’alright. Let’s go,’’ he said and then slid onto the bed, next to you, on his back. You grinned at him and threw a leg over him and immediately impaled yourself onto his shaft, causing Chris to groan and reached for a tittie with one hand as the other grabbed your hip. Everything about you excited Chris and he knew your body so well, but each time he was with you it was like exploring new territory.

‘’Baby,’’ you said after a few minutes, ‘’you ready?’’

‘’For what?’’ Chris asked, quizzically

Your answer was to give him a sly smirk and lifting yourself off his dick but kept the tip in. With all the juices you were soaking and it was easy to turn, spinning yourself around before dropping down again. The maneuver was quick and efficient, leaving Chris stunned and more than impressed. You wasted no time as you began working your hips up and down. You stretched forward and grasped Chris’ ankles as you leaned forward, giving him a fantastic view of your ass and his dick sliding in and out of your tight pussy. Chris groaned and smacked one of your ass cheeks, then dug his fingers into your flesh. "I wasn't ready for this view," he groaned out. You smiled to yourself, and bit your bottom lip – he had no idea what was coming. You looked over your shoulder at Chris wanting to see this play out, so you sat back up, pulling your hand up his legs and then, his thighs to massage his balls. You stopped moving your hips; he was nestled inside your pussy and wasn’t going anywhere. ‘’Ah that feels so fucking good,’’ Chris murmured but he narrowed his eyes slightly when your lips curved up even more. He knew you too well and knew you were up to something but he still wasn’t prepared for what you did next.

Your fingers found a spot at the base of his scrotum, and along with your pussy squeezing along his shaft, it sent him right over the fucking edge. It was like a sudden punch to the stomach, taking his breath away and shocking all his senses. Before he knew what was happening, he was pouring a tidal wave of seed into your pussy.

You watched as his eyes rolled back and his head fell into the pillow, his lips open, moaning so loudly as his fingers gripped your hips, sinking into your flesh. A few minutes passed while he was in an almost vegetative state. His eyes focus again, as you lay next to him, your head propped up on your hand as your elbow dug into a pillow. A smile hadn’t left your face and you raised your brows. You could almost see Chris’ brain rebooting. "Jesus y/n, I told you, you were going to be the death of me," he said, clearly exhausted but he pulled you into a hug and you folded into his arms, pressing yourself into him. You reveled in his warmth and pressed a kiss to his lips.

‘’I fucking love you,’’ he said kissing you back

‘’I love you more than I have loved in my life,’’ you replied and Chris started laughing

‘’What?’’ you asked him

‘’Told you, you were anything but a good girl…but I wouldn’t want you any other way,’’ he said, and pushed his lips to yours once more before getting up.

‘’That’s what I want to do to you every time I see you shave,’’ you said smiling as you watched him walk to the bathroom.

‘’Then for the first time, I’m so fucking happy I have to shave everyday,’’ he said from the bathroom and emerged with the piece of paper he had written on earlier. He handed it to you and you took it gingerly, as you sat up.

You unfolded it and read, ‘’I'm writing this because I know you’re going to want to fuck me before we leave the bathroom. GOOD GIRL.’’

You grinned up at Chris, ‘’you won your own bet and I’m still a good girl. How good was that…that just happened?’’

‘’Ah fuck,’’ Chris said with laugh, ‘’fine, you’re a good girl and it was amazing. I definitely want more of that…for the third time today, you’re going to be the death of me. Come on,’’ he said and grabbed you, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder again, ‘’time to shower.’’

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and you are loved and appreciated!

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris x reader #chris x fem reader

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kpop---scenarios · 1 year ago

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Day Six: Seungmin

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Warning: Smuuuuut, and smut [18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT READ]

Word Count: 1.1k

Day One: Felix | Day Two: Jeongin | Day Three: Changbin | Day Four: Jisung | Day Five: Lee Know

“Are you sure about this?” You laugh as Seungmin drags you into one of the karaoke places. You'd seen plenty of them in dramas but had never actually been to one yourself. Especially not with such an amazing vocalist like him.

“Yes! It'll be so fun.” He grins, paying the man and quickly ushering you into the room, looking down the hall both ways to make sure the two of you hadn't been followed into the room. That was one thing about being friends with an idol, it was extremely hard to do fun, public things with them. They rarely are able to go out undetected. Luckily for you and Seungmin, your shady years of friendship helped you both become extra stealthy. That and you knew Seungmin didn't want to be in a relationship scandal, even if it was with you. You wouldn't mind, considering you'd been in love with him for the last 3 years.

“Let's get some drinks.” You suggest picking up the phone to order quite a few bottles of soju for the two of you. If you were going to sing in front of him, you needed all the liquid courage you could find.

As the hours went on, the songs that started as fun ones with a pop beat turned into love songs, which turned into rap songs, that turned into overly sexual songs. Which is how the two of you ended up, 6 bottles of soju deep and Seungmin singing while also dancing to Hit Me Up by Timethai.

You stared at him with your mouth wide open as he humped the floor, while singing, while also maintaining eye contact. You rub your legs together to soothe the ache in your pussy while you watch him, unaware that you were actually doing it. He cocks an eyebrow at you as he finishes the song, still on his knees. He makes his way towards you, opening your legs and moving himself between them.

“Was it not good?” He asks, licking his lips.

“It.. it was very..good.” You gulp. You'd never seen him flirt so heavily, or put himself out there so sexually before and you were loving it. “You looked so fucking hot.” You say. He grins at you, making you realize what you had actually just said to him.

“Oh my god.” You gasp, slapping your hand across your mouth. “I didn't.. that was..”

Seungmin stares at you. You wonder if it's so he can figure out how to gently let you down but no words come from his mouth. Instead he moves up, crashing his lips onto yours. You don't even think, you just move your mouth with his, opening and letting him slide his tongue into your mouth. He stands up, not breaking the kiss as he pulls you over to land on his lap as he sits down. The kiss is sloppy but passionate. His hands roam your body before they end up at the hem of your shirt. He pulls it up and over your head, only breaking the kiss to discard it across the room. He reaches behind you, using one hand to unhook your bra. You sit up on his lap, genuinely surprised he was able to do that.

“very impressive.” You giggle as he cups your tits. He leans forward, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it as you throw your head back, dry humping him. You can feel his cock grow in his pants with every little movement you make. He hums in pleasure as his lips remain wrapped around your nipple until he can't take it anymore. He helps you off of him and lays you down on the couch on your back. He discards his shirt, taking off his pants and boxers before moving to your jeans, unbuttoning them before yanking them off your body.

He takes a moment, staring at your naked body, appreciating every curve, every mark and everything you think is a flaw. He finds it all beautiful.

You spread your legs for him, he kneels down on the couch, licking his fingers before he gently pushes them inside you. Fuck you were tight. Seungmin groans at the feeling of you wrapped around his fingers. He finger fucks you while using his other hand to play with your clit, making you squirm beneath him. He loved seeing you like this, he had been waiting so long for the day he was able to have you like this.

“Please.” You breathe.

“Please what?” He asks.

“Fuck me.” You pant. “Please fuck me.”

He doesn't respond, instead pulls his fingers from inside you, using your wetness to wet his hard cock before he lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly pushed himself into you, stretching you out around his cock.

“Oh fuck.” You groan, your eyes rolling back. Seungmin slowly grinds himself into you, over and over, each time hitting your clit with such an intense thrust it makes you whimper beneath him. You take your hands, grabbing his head to pull him down, latching your lips onto his as he continues moving the same way, slowly and intensely to make sure you feel it all. You moan into his mouth to keep yourself from screaming out, now that the music in your room has stopped. You lift your legs, wrapping them around him, allowing him to push his cock even deeper into your already soaked cunt. You break the kiss, breathing heavily as he nestles his head between your neck and shoulder, biting you gently as he picks up his pace.

You run your hands through his hair, pulling as he starts thrusting into you harder, even quicker.

“Fuck.” He grunts. “I never imagined you'd feel this good.”

He continues to rub your clit with his movements, now that he's moving quicker, your orgasm is building even quicker. You wrap your arms around him, digging your nails into his back as you cling onto him, loud moans escaping from your mouth without a care. You were about to cum - you couldn't hold it in any longer.

“I'm gonna.. fucking.. oh god.” You cry out as your orgasm explodes through your body. You wrap around him tighter as you ride through your high, your cunt pulsating around his cock.

“Holy shit.” He moans, cumming right after you, burying himself deep inside of you as he emptied himself into you.

Seungmin pulls his cock from you, the two of you quickly getting dressed. You both knew you needed to leave, like now before they come searching for more money. The two of you had been in there longer than you paid for. Once dressed, Seungmin takes your hand into his, pulling you out of the room and into the street. He looks at you with a wide smile as he leans down to kiss you. He breaks the kiss, still smiling. “We did things sort of backwards.” He chuckles. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow?”

#straykidsland #seungmin smut #kim seungmin smut #seungmin #skz seungmin #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz writing #skz imagines #stray kids writing #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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darkdemeter · 5 months ago

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☾ phases collection issue #6 THE NEIGHBOUR IS A WEREWOLF!

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x GN/Male/Female Neighbour!Werewolf!Reader mature 18+ — depictions and general fic about two pining neighbours, cute fluffy stuff, some sexual innuendos and undertones, a little bit of sexual themes towards the end — I think that's it? ✎ 2.5k She is the sweetest little thing you could have live right over the fence. Like a... well, dog, you'd been intrigued by her from day one and you've noticed... she has too. Little does she know, her "cute dog in the next yard" is quite literally that. A werewolf.

✎ ———

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

What would Wanda Maximoff do without you as her neighbour?

“Come on!” Wanda scoffs aloud, huffing with a drastic drop of her shoulders. “Not now… not now, please?”

Her hands ring and strangle tightly around the circlet of her steering wheel. Face scrunched in her annoyance and ire, aware that she’s cutting it close to being late for work.

“There a problem, Wands?” She jumps in her seat with a short gasp, blinking away the blur of mad tears. Fuck, not now. Of all people, please not you.

Your hands rest to curl over the wound-down sill of her window, body hunched down from your taller height and only making the muscles beneath your white shirt bulge. The way they cut off in the rolled coils at your elbows, the slight give of the top’s hem hanging loose at your collarbone, causing a spread of heat to mask her cheeks.

“Y-yeah, uh…” she looks away and down at the radio for a moment. Mindlessly and to distract herself, she plays with the buttons. “My car just suddenly shit itself and I’m going to be late for work.”

Tongue poked into your cheek, you give the hood a once over look with a sharpened appraisal. Fuck, how she could stare into your eyes for hours without growing tired. Their the most beautiful shade, sometimes catching in the light and she swears she catches this honey, amber shine in them for a second.

“I can take you to work if you’d like,” you offer calmly with a shrug, “can fix her up for you while you're out at work.”

“O-oh, I—” Is she burning up? Wanda clears her throat, tempted to fan her face of its flush. “I’d appreciate it, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

You shrug again, cheeks pulling back into a toothy grin. She swears that with a small squint of her eyes she can make out the very faint way that your canines are a little sharper than anyone she’s ever met. Animalistically so.

You’ve already pulled her door open and she quickly gathers her bag and gets out. Following alongside you, you lead her into your front yard and towards the open mouth of your garage. You pop open the passenger door of your car and she gets in, easing herself against the column seat of leather and doesn’t wait long until you get into the driver’s seat. It’s a very nice car, nothing too modern. A tan, light roof 1967 Chevrolet Impala with fine workings of white strips and restored wooden interiors. She can tell just how much love went into every detail.

“Alright, ready, sweetheart?” you tease with that sly grin and she nods, unable to trust in her words.

From day one you have been a top neighbour. Welcoming and friendly, when she began to move her boxes into her new house, you were there at the truck’s side asking if she needed a helping hand. Of course, she took note of the scrap of metal sitting in your driveway that screamed for help more than her, but something about that charm you have made her accept instead.

Eager, you began to haul in several boxes at a time, saving her at least an hour’s more work.

She could never forget such kindness. It was scary to move somewhere completely new, heavy with doubt that she’d make any close friends so soon. Yet there you were, like a dog in the yard wagging your tail and hopeful, puppy eyes as you introduced yourself.

From then on, you were always around in a way. Every morning when she’d make herself a cup of coffee and some breakfast, she’d see you out in your yard going about whatever it was you were doing that day. Touching up some of the broken pitches in the fence, weeding the hedges or— how she’d go bright red in seeing you in the farther corner of the backyard chopping logs of wood.

She would quickly duck out of sight behind the floral pattern of her curtains just as you walked past, huffing, sweaty and carrying a load of wood that would take two men combined to haul.

It was always a marvel and mystery of the things you could do, the small and sort of oddities she found. But it mattered little the moment she came home from work to find you half beneath the body of a car you were working on in your driveway, stereo turned up on full blast playing older music dated to the sixties at least. The way your stained jeans hug the muscle of your legs, knees spread to reveal the sturdy space of your lap and the junction between your legs.

She had to think quickly and be smart in order to not get caught ogling at you when you spring out on the wheeled bed, tool in hand and hands covered darkly in car grime. How you always speak to her with that rumbly timbre edged into the vocal range of your voice, it sends tingles down her spine and shooting into her core, leaving her with a dampened spot in her panties that she has to now deal with after she shuts her front door at her heel.

The things she would allow you to do with her if she just had the courage to ask. The things you would gladly do to her if she just gave you a chance. But there were other things that you’re better off keeping to yourself and those chores were often curated around a time when you knew she wasn’t home or when it was late and under the cover of night.

Those same tunes play quietly on the stereo ambience in the car. “You sure like this song,” she says with a short giggle. Humming and eyes flickering to hers for a second, your mouth spreads into a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, it’s a good song. I’ve always enjoyed it.” Your days are fueled by the drone of your old music playing in the background. It keeps you calmer in the more rather… intense moments.

“I like it.” Wanda now grins, toothy and bright and you can’t explain why, but it fills you with a sense of relief – maybe even pride - that Wanda has taken a liking. Ever since she moved in, this song has become more of a nail in the coffin for you, finally able to see her as at the edge of your own reality.

‘Thank you, Elvis.’

Your arm reaches down and shifts the gears and speed off down the road.

Just as you promised, you worked on Wanda’s car throughout the day. Tinkering away with the engine, ensuring that the oil was done and changed and wiping your hands over and over messily with the stained rag tucked into your belt.

“Fucking Hell, Wanda. You live next door to that? And you haven’t pounced on them yet?” Wanda feels her face grow hot, blushing with that sore pinkish colour as she attempts to hide in the high collar of her sweater.

Her co-worker remains guilty of staring at you — or at least the lower half of you laying from underneath the car — and Wanda scolds her for drooling all over her pants.

“I’m just saying, if you need a roommate—”

“Oh no,” Wanda quickly interjects, gathering her bag, “I will not become the proxy of a creepy, perv neighbour.”

“Wanda, please, I’m begging you! Just one night to sleep over. Huh, my car has curiously stopped working, do you think that they could uhm… see what the problem is?”

Wanda rolls her eyes with a loud sigh. “You’re so bad, and I mean that in a: ‘get home and have a cold shower’ way.”

Her co-worker shakes her head, her lips sinking inward. “Uh uh. I’m using my vibrator all night long for this one.”

Wanda’s nose scrunches but she fails to conceal her laughter. “Ew!”

She gets out of the car and begins to walk up the pavement of her driveway. She watches the allure of you roll yourself out with a finalising sigh only to find her gaze and grin widely. Those sharper fangs in full view.

Those adoring, puppy-like eyes and the ever so slight tilt of your head.

“Hey, Wands.” You scurry outward that bit more and stand, your towering height shadows over her and the afternoon sun paints against your back and shoulders. Your hair is mused and slick, your clothes and smears of your skin in dire need of a wash and your hands are covered to the elbow in a gradient grime.

“Hey, Y/N. Working hard?”

You chuckle lowly and nod. You do your best to wipe yourself clear to no altering difference. But Wanda finds the charm in the way you look. It’s something she can sense about you that you enjoy a good scalp scratch. She becomes internally greedy and wishful to coddle you and perhaps have an excuse to see you wrapped in nothing but a towel around your waist and skin glowing with the shiny jewels of the dribbling shower water.

Just as you’re about to invite Wanda to finally test out her car’s health, you pick up the rapid pace of heels clapping on the driveway and see another woman who approaches fast. “Who’s this?” you ask. Wanda, stumbling over her words, introduces her co-worker to you.

With a dip of your chin and lashes framing the unsure, almost shy quarter of your gaze ducks away and only relax when able to find Wanda.

“H-hi, I’m having car issues of my own. Could I trouble you to take a quick look?”

One of your brows quirk up. You can smell some form of arousal on this woman and the way she looks up at you, blinking, you already put two and two together. You give a shrug on your shoulders anyhow. “Sure.”

You make your way over to the car that you know is in working order by the smell of the freshly changed oil and the tinge of the hot engine. You pop the hood open and quick as anything, you identify the problem.

Wanda’s entire body grows cold then hot under the stare of your eyes, a little narrowed and pupils raised up to seemingly sink out of view. She thinks she catches that strange anomaly of amber gold flash in your eyes.

“What did you do?” she whispers with a quiet hiss. Her co-worker looks sinfully sheepish and holds up a small object in her hands. She answers quickly with a huff. “I took this thing out.”

Both women go still when your fingers pluck the object out from her hand, a dark smirk crossing your lips as your glare turns to look Wanda up and down, taking her in in her entirety. How did you reach them so quickly without making a single sound?

“Found the problem.”

“O-oh!”

You adjust the stolen piece back into its proper place and push the hood down with a hard, resounding thud and slap your hand down in it, announcing your finished work.

“She’s ready to go. An easy fix.”

Wanda has to shoo and shove her dear, embarrassed co-worker back into her driver’s seat and waves her off, watching the poor girl drive home dejected. No harm, no foul to the woman but she wasn’t the one you were interested in. There was little point in indulging in lesser affairs when the one you truly wanted stood no more than a few inches from you.

“She’s a sweet girl, really. She just…” Wanda’s eyes shy away from yours the moment you snort, smirking down at her and she scratches at the shell of her ear. Was there really an excuse for that kind of behaviour? Maybe not, but Wanda has questioned herself once or twice after a semi mind-blowing orgasm session to her vibrator at the thought of you and why it was that you never appear to be seeing anyone, or bring a single person home for even a one night stand? Plenty of her other neighbours did. And her co-worker’s attempt to try and get her foot in the door couldn’t be blamed fully. You have this roguish appearance, intimidating yet somehow friendly. Wanda never once has had to worry about any sort of trouble such as robbers breaking in because she feels assured and protected that you’re right next door.

Little to her knowledge, you’ve caught the odd robber trying his luck at busting the lock of her front door in the middle of the night. And there you had been, standing with a shovel in one hand, a thick and sturdy chain in the other and hidden behind the picket fence.

All you had to do was let the wolfish glow of amber show and ask with a rumbled tone, “What’d you think you’re doing?”

And the robber high-tailed it, complexion paled in comparison to the dark attire he wore.

Your hands pat and paw at the roughened texture of your jeans. With a cock of your head, you indicate to Wanda to follow you. “Come on. Let’s see if my day’s work paid off.”

Giddy and cheeks finally cooling down, Wanda joins you and she slides in. She puts her keys into the ignition and turns it, the car’s engine purrs to life with a steady rumble and she giggles aloud, hands clapping together.

“Shit, that sounds better than before.”

You lean down until your face appears in the window. “Glad to hear it.”

“How can I repay you?” The question leaves over the plump of her lips before she could even register it.

Would it be wrong to use this as your chance? Your brows line into a considering furrow, lips twisting into a pursed form before you respond. “How about a date tomorrow night?”

You worry you’ve gone too far but when her cheeks fold back into that dimpled, toothy smile and her dark lashes flutter, abashed and her face glowing red, she nods. “Sure, I’d like that.”

The engine purrs low before the rattling kink silences it, shutting it off.

“It’s really beautiful up here,” Wanda sighs with a smile.

“Yeah. I like to come up here when I need to get away from things in the neighbourhood.”

Her eyes finally fall away from the view to find you and you turn your gaze to hers.

“Even me?” she asks smoothly.

Easily in her tone you register the sounded jest but all the same, it pulls a quiet and caught whine from your throat.

You shake your head. “No. You’re the only thing I hate leaving behind when I get away.”

You see the way her creamy green eyes move, flittering up and down from your own eyes to your lips then back up. You cannot help but copy the motion.

She moves in and something inside you, a desperate hunger, meets her halfway and begins to pull her from her passenger seat until she straddles your waist.

#headlinesxcomics publishing #wanda maximoff x reader #werewolf reader #x reader #marvel #wanda maximoff #male reader #wanda x werewolf reader #gn reader #female reader

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charliehoennam · 1 year ago

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the dinner party

A/N: Filling out this request. Enjoy!

Pairing: David Loki x F!reader

Summary: David and his girl spice things up at her boss's annual dinner party.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ ONLY. Language, unprotected p in v sex (wrap your willy, kids), oral play, cumplay, not proofread

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Parties in general were David’s least favorite things. He rarely gets time off and the last thing he wants to do is spend it sharing you with people he doesn’t know.

Sure, they were your co-workers and superiors and he trusted you more than anyone in the world. But you looked way too sexy to be at this stupid dinner party.

He wanted to have you to himself tonight. He didn’t want to socialize; his social meter was already naturally low and he’d been there for almost half an hour now, enduring the small talk with the strangers you introduced him to and all their invasive questions about the job he mostly just didn’t want to think about.

You noticed his discomfort when he excused himself to get more wine after one of the most obnoxious guys of your workplace asked him what the most disturbing thing he’d seen on the job was.

It was disturbing for a reason and he wished he could forget it.

“Uhm, that’s rather a hard question to answer. Guess I’ve just seen too much” David answered curtly. “Excuse me, I ran out of fuel” he confirmed raising his glasses.

You co-workers laughed it off with his little joke, but you knew he wasn’t trying be funny, so you followed him into your boss’s kitchen.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t-“ you started, regretting that you had dragged him along.

“Not your fault, babe. People are just assholes sometimes.”

“Just 30 more minutes? I don’t wanna be here anymore than you do, but I have to. You know how my boss is. He takes it personal if we don’t show up. I don’t wanna be iced out at work.”

“What if I planted drugs in his house?” he smirked picking at the charcutarie board on the kitchen island to pop some salami into his mouth. “Ooh, that’s good salami. I think that’s salami, at least.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Of course, I am. But he is a douche. I’d be doing you a favor.”

“I couldn’t agree more, but this job pays for all the sexy lingerie I wear for you.” You smirked filling up both your glasses. “And the hours are really flexible too.”

“Almost as flexible as you” he smirked back idling around the kitchen. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise. I know it’s important. It’s just fucking boring as shit. If I have to hear your boss talk about his Italian inspiration for the house, my head might actually explode. I can literally feel the vein in my head throb every time he says ‘venetian’.”

You chortled with a sip of your wine.

“I know he’s a lot to handle, but it’s just for 30 minutes. And I already introduced you to everyone, so we can just hang out with my friends out back until then. They’re pretty normal, like us.”

“I can’t believe it’s only been half an hour. It feels like it’s been at least 3 hours.”

“What can I do to make it easier hm?” you smiled rubbing your palm against his chest.

“Well…” he smirked lowering his gaze to scan your body. He loved how your black dress hugged your curves just perfectly. “There is one thing that would make me really happy. You know I have a sweet tooth, right?”

You narrowed your eyes with a mirroring smirk.

“You want dessert already?”

“It’s the best part of the course, if you ask me.”

“Fine. But we gotta keep it quiet” you nodded with a mischievous smile.

"Wait. Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief. He didn't think you'd actually agree.

"Yeah, I am. This party is a total dud. I wouldn't be here unless I had to. Might as well make it fun," you smiled nonchalantly, dipping your fingertip into your wine and dabbed the red liquid on his white shirt.

“Hey! What’d you do that for?”

“You’re a cop, David. Rule number one: always have an alibi. And I’m not gonna ruin my dress. It was more expensive than your shirt.”

“Ey, I paid 10 dollars for this shirt at the good-will.”

“My point exactly,” you smirked taking his hand to lead him out of the kitchen and back into the crowd. “You’re such a klutz, Davy. Let’s try to get you cleaned up.”

Fighting back the excited smile was hard to do as you led him to the upstairs floor. Running off to a secret place to do secret things had you both feeling like young teenagers in love again.

“Yeah, ” he smirked with suspicious eyes squinted at you as you weaved through the crowd of employees. "Accident happen."

If there was one thing David loved more than you and his job, it was going down on you. And, if that wasn't enough already, it was one of the many things that he excelled at.

"C'mere, beautiful" he smirked turning you around once you'd locked the door.

His hands snaked around your hips as lips collided with you in a feverish kiss, hiking up your dress. Your lower back met with the marble countertop of the sink in the lavish bathroom.

David opened his eyes to look at the reflection of your ass, beautifully on display in your black lace panties.

"You look so pretty, baby" he groaned at the twitching of his hidden cock.

Your cheeks bloomed with warmth as praises spewed from his mouth.

Once his knees met the floor, he wasted no time getting to work. David loved seeing you in black lace. He loved your pussy even more.

His moans were muffled as he buried his mouth over your clothed cunt, nose rubbing and circling your sensitive nub as he inhaled your delicious scent.

"Got this pretty pussy all dressed up for me too huh?" he asked with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

His hot breath and warm tongue nuzzling your cunt had your panties growing wetter and wetter with a combination of his saliva and your slick.

You moaned as your hand reached for his head, legs welcoming his mouth as you sat back on the edge of the countertop.

With a hand wrapped around your thigh, he hooked a finger under the lacy fabric and pulled it to the side in order to display your juicy cunt to him.

"Ain't nothing sweeter than this right here."

His open mouth quickly latched onto your exposed pussy. His tongue eagerly licked up the sopping mess that only flooded from your spongy walls.

His thumb circled over your delicate clit as his tongue stroked over your plushy folds up and down, over and over again, sending electricity throughout your body and curling your toes.

The sticky sounds of your incredibly wet cunt and his mouth along with David's expertly technique altering from your pussy, down to your puckering asshole, had your head hanging back. Heat burned in your cheeks as you wondered if anyone could hear you from the outside.

David's eyes were locked on your contorting reaction, coming undone with your mouth hung open in an ecstasy only he could provide. So desperate for your release, you ground your hips against his face, caressing his head of luscious hair as you chased your high.

Your spine arched forward as you relished every greedy movement of his flickering tongue, panting when his thumb slowly sped up its circling over your tender clit.

David's low chuckle at your frantic chase for climax sent chills over your hot skin.

"D-Dave, I-I'm gonna-" you gasped, trying your best to stay as quiet as you possibly could.

"Cum for me," he ordered adding more pressure and speed to his teasing thumb.

The blinding white light of sheer pleasure rippled through your body, letting it tremble under his unyielding mouth. Despite your attempt to shut your thighs, he chuckled darkly as he forced them apart, pushing you further back and folding you over on the countertop until your knees met your chest and your back met the cold surface of the mirror behind you.

“Look at this pretty pussy, all soaked just for me.”

With a teeth baring grin, his long fingers glided easily between your slick folds, toying with the sensitive mound of flesh.

“Came so good for me, didn’t you? Gonna let me taste it?”

You nodded eagerly at him unable to speak with heavy breaths, trying to ease yourself from your newfound high.

“Be a good girl and spread your pussy for me then" he ordered politely quickly bringing your hands under your thighs to pull your pussy apart to hold it open yourself in the raunchiest way.

“Atta girl” he grinned maliciously.

His tongue shoved into your soaked hole, delving deeper and deeper into your open cunt. David was addicted to your pussy, to your taste. He loved how wet you could get, how much of a mess you could make just for him to see.

You watched as he fucked you with his tongue, lapping at your pulsing walls as he impatiently licked for every single drop.

"Baby, fuck me. Please. I need your cock in me so fucking bad right now" you begged, reminded by his tongue of his dick.

He didn't hesitate for a single moment before unbuckling his black pants to let his throbbing dick bounce freely from its confines. He spat into his hand and wrapped it around his cock to give it a few tugs, eyes hungrily staring your gaping pussy.

"Jesus fucking Christ" he groaned as the saliva and his pre-cum mixed and coated his heavy cock.

Aligning his heavy tip´to your welcoming pussy, he slid it up and down your swollen slippery lips to gather your slick. You hissed as he tapped it over your sensitive clit, making your hips buck as they chased his cock eager to fill up your pussy with his sizeable dick.

He would've teased you far more if he hadn't remembered where you were, so instead, his tip slipped past your folds and into your warm wet cunt.

He pushed in and pulled out slowly at first, to wet his dick enough until he could glide in and out of you with ease. You both watched completely hypnotized by your pussy lips wrapped around his heavy member with a shiny glazed hug.

"Keep this pussy open for me, baby girl. Take it all in. I know you can take it."

You felt so wonderfully full and stretched with his thick, long cock slowly moving inside you. Every ridge and vein of it massaged your walls in the perfect way, eliciting even more wetness from your body.

"Ah, fuck" he growled lowly unable to tease.

He needed to cum so badly. His dick was already throbbing and aching for release. Not to mention that eventually someone would knock on the door or come looking for you.

His belt buckle jingled as his hips began to piston against yours. His large hands moved to your chest, pulling your bra and dress to watch your breasts bounce freely with his every thrust.

"Ain't gonna last long like this, baby" he panted softly as he mumbles against the smooth calf of your leg.

He pounded balls deep into you quickly, watching your slick lips squelch around his cock as the sounds of wet slapping skin echoed softly in the bathroom.

It was just too much for him. Your perfectly drenched pussy hugging his cock beautifully, his balls smacking around your ass cheeks, your breasts jiggling to his rhythm.

It all overwhelmed him, bringing him to finally cum heavily into your womb.

Your walls squeezed around his cock, milking him of every single drop until he had to force him to pull out from the oversensitivity of it.

A couple of strands of his pearly white cum squirted over your lips as he gave his final couple strokes to his sensitive tip, aimed at your gaping pussy hole to fill it to the brim.

He smirked proudly as he admired his white load inside your cunt, overflowing like a waterfall from your used pussy and down to your pulsing asshole.

"You're gonna keep this pussy just like this, alright?" he smiled darkly as he gently moved your lacy black panties to cover your cunt and soak in all your - and his - juices.

"No cleaning up. I want to feel it when you walk around out there."

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