#i’m also turning anons off for a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carnalcrows · 6 months ago

Text

HOW TO STEAL A MAN (AND HIS GROCERY LIST)

pairing: gi-hun x top male reader

synopsis: When Gi-hun’s late-night cat-feeding routine attracts a stalker with a cart full of cat food and questionable social skills, chaos—and maybe romance—ensues.

content warnings: 18+, top male reader, stalking, blowjobs (reader receiving), missionary, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, reader wants to get gi-hun pregnant asap, age gap (reader is in his 20s and gi-hun is in his 40s).

word count: 2.2k

A/N: ty anon for the request!! i had fun writing this one

Seong Gi-hun’s life wasn’t glamorous. Every evening, after whatever sorry excuse for a day he’d had, he stopped at the corner store, bought a packet of cheap cat food, and made his way to a run-down alley to feed a scruffy stray. It was the one bright spot in his life, and he looked forward to it more than he cared to admit.

What he didn’t know was that someone else looked forward to it too.

That someone was you.

You first noticed Gi-hun a few weeks ago while wandering through the neighborhood. At first, you thought he was just some random guy lingering in the alley, but then you saw him crouch down and pour food into a chipped saucer. His voice was soft as he spoke to the stray cat, coaxing it to eat.

It was... oddly endearing.

From then on, you couldn’t help yourself. You started following him—not in a creepy way (okay, maybe a little creepy)—but you were curious. Who was this man? Why did he care so much about a stray cat?

Your fascination grew, and soon, watching him feed the cat became part of your routine. But you wanted more than to just watch. You wanted to talk to him. To know him.

One evening, as you watched Gi-hun walk into the corner store, you got an idea. A foolproof, albeit slightly unhinged, plan. You hurried inside ahead of him, grabbed every single packet of cat food off the shelf, and went to pay, ignoring the cashier’s confused look.

When Gi-hun arrived at the pet aisle, you lingered near the exit, pretending to browse.

“What the…?” Gi-hun muttered, staring at the empty shelf. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, and turned to leave, only to almost bump into you.

You were standing there with a massive bag filled with cat food packets.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you said, pretending to be startled.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re the reason the shelf is empty?”

“I feed a lot of strays,” you said innocently, though the amusement in your voice probably gave you away.

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You think I could buy one of those off you? There’s a stray I feed every night, and now I’m empty-handed.”

You pretended to think about it, then smiled. “I’ll give you one… if you let me come with you. I’d like to meet the cat.”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your request. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t scare it off, okay?”

That’s how it all started.

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into a routine. Every evening, you’d meet Gi-hun at the corner store, walk with him to the alley, and sit on the curb while the stray cat ate. Over time, you learned bits and pieces about him: his failed marriage, his gambling problems, and most importantly, his love for his daughter, Ga-yeong.

“She’s all I have left,” he admitted one night, his voice soft.

You nodded, unsure what to say. It was clear how much he cared for her, even if he didn’t always show it in the best ways.

As weeks passed, you also got to know Ga-yeong, who was surprisingly cool for a kid. She started teasing her dad about how much time he spent with you.

“Are you two dating yet?” she asked one evening, smirking as she watched you and Gi-hun prepare dinner.

Gi-hun spluttered. “W-what? No! We’re just friends.”

“Sure, Dad,” she said, winking at you.

You laughed, enjoying how flustered he got.

One rainy evening, you were at Gi-hun’s apartment again, helping him cook dinner. The kitchen was small and cramped, but it felt cozy with the two of you working side by side.

As you chopped vegetables, you glanced at him. “You know, you’re not half bad at this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m just saying,” you teased. “You’re full of surprises.”

Gi-hun smiled, but when he noticed you staring, his brow furrowed. “What? Do I have sauce on my face or something?”

“Nothing,” you said, setting the knife down. “I just… I’ve been wanting to do something for a while now.”

Before he could ask what, you stepped closer, your heart racing. Gi-hun froze like a deer in headlights, his hand awkwardly holding a ladle full of stew.

“What are you—”

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him.

At first, he didn’t move, his eyes wide with surprise. But as you pressed into him, his shoulders relaxed, and the ladle clattered to the counter. Slowly, tentatively, he kissed you back, his lips warm and soft against yours.

It started gentle, careful, like he was afraid to mess it up. But as the seconds ticked by, something shifted. He leaned into you, his hands nervously gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You smiled against his lips, enjoying how hesitant he was, even as his breathing grew heavier.

“Relax,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his. “You’re doing fine.”

“I—I don’t—” he stammered, but you cut him off with another kiss, this one deeper, more insistent.

Gi-hun let out a muffled sound of surprise, his hands fumbling as they slid up your back. His inexperience was endearing, and it only made you want to kiss him harder.

Somehow, the two of you ended up pressed against the counter, the dinner long forgotten. Gi-hun’s hair was an absolute mess from your hands running through it, and his cheeks were flushed a deep red.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Good,” you said with a grin, leaning in to steal another kiss.

The smell of burning stew eventually snapped the two of you out of it, but not before you got one last, lingering kiss. As Gi-hun scrambled to salvage dinner, muttering curses under his breath, you leaned against the counter, watching him with a satisfied smirk.

“I like you,” you said casually, making him freeze mid-stir.

He turned to look at you, his expression somewhere between flustered and incredulous. “You think?”

“I know,” you corrected. “And I think you like me too.”

Gi-hun sighed, his lips quirking into a small, shy smile. “Yeah... maybe I do.”

You laughed, reaching out to tug him back toward you. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your mouth found his once more, and you slowly lifted the man onto the countertop. He yelped in surprise, and you used the opportunity to slide your tongue, relishing in how he tasted.

His hands gripped onto your shoulders, while you held his waist, steadying him. You slowly trailed butterfly kisses from his jaw to his neck, stopping at his Adam’s apple before lightly nipping on his ear lobe.

Gi-hun was still quite unsure of what he was supposed to be doing, not having engaged in such…activities for far too long.

“You do want to do this right? We can stop the moment you tell me to,” you said to him, your tone soft. After a second of pondering, he gripped your shoulders with determination, and latched his mouth right onto yours.

You took it as a sign to continue, and slowly broke away the kiss to close the stew before continuing to have your way with him.

You slowly picked him up from the countertop and carried him to the couch, revelling in how surprised you were. Carrying those giant bags of cat food was worth it.

You laid him on the couch gently, its base creaking with the sudden weight. Gi-hun hastily pushed your pants down, tugging at the strap for a few seconds before it made way. Your cock sprang out, hard and leaking.

His eyes widened, and he looked up at you. Your eyes were soft, letting him know that this didn’t have to continue if he didn’t want it to.

Before you could say anything, he licks a stripe across your length, savouring the musk emitting from the base. You let out a groan, gripping onto his hair–but not too tight; not yet.

You let him experiment with your dick, leaving small kisses along the underside, while his hand moves up to clutch your balls, heavy with your seed. He wonders to himself on how your cum would feel inside him, and the thought makes his ears burn a bright red.

“Don’t take this long darlin’, wanna please you too,” you mumble, wanting him to speed up just a little bit.

He slowly wraps his pretty lips around the tip of your cock, making you let out a garbled moan. His mouth was just so, so warm.

“Breathe through your nose baby, that’s it,”you cooed, watching him struggle to take your length all the way.

He slowly bobbed his head up and down, savouring the precum hitting the back of his throat. Your moans were getting louder and louder, to the point where you had to muffle the noises with the back of your hand. The walls of his house were quite thin.

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as he struggled to swallow you whole. Your grip on his hair had gotten significantly tighter, as you push his head to take you all the way. His garbled mumbles did nothing but send vibrations straight up your dick, turning you on even more.

“So good f’me baby, I’m almost done,”you groan before releasing your grip on his hair and pulling out of his warm throat, before ejaculating all over his face.

He looked up at you in shock, his face a mixture of tears, sweat and semen. It truly was a sight to see. Your dick stood right back up.

His eyes widened, but before he could say anything, you quickly turned him around on the couch, his ass up towards you.

You pulled his pants down, along with his boxers, to reveal his tight hole, clenching around the cold air. He hissed when he suddenly felt a finger at his hole, slick with lube (where did that come from).

“This might hurt a lil’ bit,” you said before slowly pressing your finger into his hole. His back arched with the intrusion, the pain mixed with the pleasure going straight to his cock, the tip red and weeping.

You slowly added another finger, watching as his ass practically swallowed them whole as you pumped them in and out.

After adding a third finger, you deemed that he was prepped enough to be fucked. He already looked out of it, that was a different thing altogether. His shoulders were slumped and his elbows were the only thing keeping him upright.

You positioned you cock at his entrance, and slowly slid in, groaning at how tight and inviting his hole was, as if it was made just for your dick.

Gi-hun let out a loud moan, it was almost pornographic. He had never felt this full in his life– your cock was almost ripping him in half!

You bottomed out all the way to the hilt, and you slowly started to move, whispering dirty nothings in the older man’s ear.

“How does it feel, getting fucked by a man half your age, hm?” Gi-hun could only blabber at this, his brain could no longer form coherent words as his mind was so focused on how your cock was hitting the right spot with every. single. thrust.

You felt his hole mould into the shape of your cock, and every time you hit his prostate, his moans got more high pitched. One of your hands caressed his stomach, and you were surprised to find his belly bulging with every thrust. He squealed when he felt it, his brain was feeling so empty.

“Y’know Gi-hun, your daughter must be quite lonely, considering that she is an only child. Wanna give Ga-yeong a sibling?” you teased, to which he could only moan, his head filled with the thought of you making him pregnant with your seed. The thought didn’t seem too bad.

To this, you lifted him up and sat on the couch with him on your lap, his back to your chest. You lifted his legs up in such a way that every single time you lifted him up and dropped him back on your lap, your dick would hit places he didn’t even know existed.

He threw his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head with the vigour of your thrusts, fucking into him like you were an animal in heat. At this point, it really felt like you were trying to get him pregnant. A man couldn’t biologically get pregnant, but all rational thought had flown out the window, and who said you couldn’t try?

As your thrusts started to stutter, you knew you were at a climax, so when Gi-hun came with a cry, painting his abdomen white, you pushed into him all the way to his imaginary womb before coming undone with a loud groan, painting his gummy walls a pearly white.

You kept your cock in him for a while, letting him relax. His hole clenched and unclenched around your dick, while only spurred you on even more.

Gi-hun turned around to face you lazily, but with surprise, as he felt your cock harden in him once again.

“We can’t stop yet love, I need to give you a baby after all,” you smirked before pushing Gi-hun back down onto the couch.

He was fucked.

And somewhere out there, a stray cat was probably wondering why its dinner was late.

2K notes · View notes

dollgxtz · 1 year ago

Note

Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.

#umi writes ♡︎#sylus x reader #love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds smut #lads #lads smut #lads fic #lads scenarios #l&ds sylus #l&ds #love and deep space x reader #l&ds x reader #sylus x reader fic #love and deep space smut #lads sylus

3K notes · View notes

c4tluver02 · 1 month ago

Note

thinking thoughts about taking steve with you to go clothes shopping and letting him pick stuff out for you to try on and he sits on the Boyfriend Bench™️ (although he’s not necessarily the boyfriend… yet) and oops suddenly he cannot breathe you look So Good in clothes that He Picked Out and then the next outfit you come out in, steve has all the clothes you want to try on sitting right over his lap? how odd!

i also think you would clock him ogling you because poor stevie’s brain doesn’t work quite right when he sees a pretty face and it doesn’t occur to him that you could totally see him checking you out by looking at him in the mirror… tragic, really 🤧

shopping trip

wc: 2.4k

summary: You asked your best friend Steve to help you pick out and outfit for your date. Being the amazing friend he is, he helps you in more ways than one!

cw: r is shorter than Steve, fem!reader, friends to lovers!, a little possessive steve tehe, nothing rlly :)

a/n: anon….. ooooo this was ssoooo good!!!!! i’m so sorry it took me so long to get out, i hope u enjoy it :D

Steve was just trying to be helpful, really.

You had recently been asked out on a date by some guy at a coffee shop. One normally you and Steve frequent but unfortunately he wasn’t there that day. Maybe that's why that guy made a move on you, Steve thinks. A cute girl like yourself, all alone because Steve had to cover for Robin.

That night you had called Steve to tell him all about your daily endeavors as you two normally do, and you managed to slip this guy's name in right at the end. When Steve was all sleepy-eyed and barely registering anything but the sound of your soothing voice. But hearing the retelling of how some guy charmed you enough for you to say yes to a date? Now that knocked Steve out of his sleepy state right away. He asked the normal questions like where the two of you were meeting and when just in case. For safety reasons, of course.

But deep in Steve's mind was him cursing himself for not saying no to Robin and coming to drink coffee with you. That’s how he ended up here, with your honey sweet voice coming through his home phone asking for him to go shopping with you. You wanted something that would be nice and who better than your best friend to go with you? The person who you call nightly even if you saw him earlier that day, and who gives you kisses on your head when you cuddle into him during your sleepovers. The definition of a great best friend.

However, the minute Steve picked you up in his dark red car he knew he was in trouble. It started with how sweet your Stevie was for helping you despite him having to work the next day, but quickly turned into how excited you were to finally go on a date. That this guy asking you out must have been the universe telling you something or whatever. Steve thinks he must have been going 90 on the freeway just to get this whole thing over with.

When you did arrive at the mall the first few stores were a bust. Nothing really popping out to you nor Steve. You did ask for his help after all, he was just wanting to make you happy. And the puppy dog eyes paired with the frown you sported wasn’t his favorite compared to your perfect smile and gorgeous laugh. He was sure he wouldn’t be asked for help ever again if he couldn’t fix this.

Luckily once you walked into the next store there were immediately some things you liked. A lot of flowy and short dresses ready for the spring weather to take over Hawkins. The two of you split off naturally to find separate things. Steve has known you long enough to find things for you that he’s sure you’d like, again a duty of being friends.

When you found a few items of clothing you met back up with Steve while he was looking through the men’s section.

“Didn’t know you were needing a date outfit too?” You joked playfully. Steve had no intention of buying things for himself on this trip but it doesn’t hurt to look.

“I was just lookin around, you ready?” He’s talking about the long awaited fashion show.

This wasn’t your and Steve's first shopping trip, over your many years of friendship you’ve had many fashion shows.

You nod and walk towards the fitting rooms, Steve sits on a bench that's placed right in front of your small room. The door is traded for a velvet curtain, the fabric is heavy to hold its place but leaves gaps 0n the sides. If Steve weren’t here to watch for creeps you probably wouldn’t even bother staying to try things on. But thankfully he’s sat right in front, ready for the curtain to open with you showing off a nice dress.

His lap is full of the clothes you have to try on, there being no hangers in the fitting room for you to place them, Steve was put on clothes duty. He didn’t mind, and if it was another way he could help make your life easier he would do it in a heartbeat anyways.

“Steve, can you hand me the white tank top from the pile?” You ask poking your head out of the curtain.

The fabric of the curtain is pressed to your chest making it completely modest but when Steve stands up his height betrays him. The big gap above your head allows for his eyes to see the mirror behind you.

Your red bra was normally hidden by the black long sleeve you were wearing. Now it’s bright color was all Steve could see, it was only your back but it was enough for his face to flush. He couldn’t believe his reaction was this severe. Steves seen plenty of bras in his life, even boobs. And yet here he was stuttering a ‘n-no problem’ when you thanked him and took the top while you closed the curtain.

He was thankful you didn't linger and ask about his small malfunction, maybe you hadn’t caught his reaction. Hopefully you didn't catch his reaction, he’s acting like a victorian boy who just saw an ankle for the first time.

When you come out the red bra that was plaguing Steve's poor mind was still peaking through but at least a little covered now. The white top didn't do much to hide the fact that you had a red bra on, but it didn't show the details of it.

“So? Whatcha think?” You ask, doing a small twirl.

This was an outfit you picked and Steve thought you looked good in it, it was a simple tank top and skirt. In any normal circumstance he’d tell you to get it but this wasn’t normal. This dude didn't need to think, let alone see, what type of bra you were wearing.

“I think it’s nice, maybe not first date worthy?” He doesn’t want to come off harsh, you do have a few more outfits to try on anyways.

“Okay, fair enough. Next outfit please.” You have your hands out ready, this time it was an outfit picked by Steve.

You thank him and return to change. And when Steve feels that same tank top you were wearing hit his head you let out a laugh.

“Did it get you?” The giggle was loud and you couldn’t see the eye roll but you heard the huff coming out of him. It was enough to tell you that it did in fact hit him.

“Are you changing in there or sling shooting clothes at me?”

“You’re not talking and all this changing is making me hot.” You say but the last part comes out with something close to a whine.

It immediately made Steve's ears perk up and he would say something immature about you being hot if you hadn’t called him out in the first part of your sentence.

“‘M sorry, I think I am just tired. And I don't wanna work tomorrow.” He says leaning his head against the wall.

The gap is teasing him in the worst way possible. Everytime you move you touch it and Steve’s waiting for the moment it shows just enough. Maybe he’s awful for thinking like this about his best friend but he doesn’t have much time to fight with himself because you open the curtain wide.

The full length mirror in front of you shows Steve sitting and his head laid back. You are on your tippy toes trying to imagine the whole look with heels. And to say Steve did a great job isn’t an understatement. The dress you have on fits you extremely well, accentuating everything that it needs to.

In the mirror you can see Steve taking you in. His full attention is now on what’s in front of him and the idea that his reaction could be seen by you isn’t one he’s thought about yet. But his eyes travel all over you, starting at your chest lowering to where the corset meets the fabric around your ass.

You slowly turn to face him so he has time to recover from his blatant starring.

“I really like this one.” Steve says finally looking at your face.

“Yeah? You don’t think it’s too much?” The smile on your face defeats the worried question. He looks totally infatuated with you, the idea of hiding you away from your date is no longer in his thoughts. Only the way it presses your boobs up in the most perfect way and the length of it hitting your thighs is what takes up his mind.

“No, no, not at all. It’s actually perfect I think.” He says it so factually it makes you laugh.

“Well you did pick it out, maybe you’re a little biased.” This time you turn to look at yourself in the mirror. No longer watching Steve, just taking in if you actually like the dress.

“I only get the best things for you, c'mon you look amazing.” Now he’s getting up and stepping into the small dressing room with you.

When he gets close enough you lean back just enough that his chest meets your back. Your head leans against his chest and you look at him in the mirror, he’s still looking at you and then finally feels your eyes watching him.

He gives a sheepish smile, suddenly feeling caught even though he wasn’t really doing anything necessary wrong.

With his hands on your waist he spins you around to face him and now the room is feeling even smaller. It’s as if his hands are on fire since they burn right through your dress, the heat of his palms so easily felt on your hips.

“Okay well if you think it looks so good I guess I have to get it?” The smile on your face makes Steve smile. Your head is tilted and he can tell changing clothes made you warm because your cheeks are red. Well they’re red because his hands are still on you, burning like lava actually, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah I mean we could keep going if you don't feel good— or maybe jeans would be more comfortable?” The fact that you haven’t said you actually like it is quickly getting to his head. Maybe he was too lost in his own infatuation that he didn’t realize you weren’t feeling it. The last thing he would want is for you to feel pressured to get something just because of him.

“Stevie, if you say it’s good I trust you. Plus I actually really like it. You did good.” You end with the sentence with a wink and place your hands over his.

He barely has time to register the way you looked winking, were you being seductive? The feeling of your hands on his erases his thoughts and he lets you go. Slowly backing out to return to his seat on the bench where now another man was sitting. He also had clothes near him but instead he was constantly checking his watch, like he was waiting to get out of there. Steve stood with all the clothes, patiently waiting for you to get out. The guy was full of huffs and puffs but when Steve closed his eyes he tried his hardest to re-visualize what you looked like with the dress on. Maybe that’s the last time he’ll see you in it. God he hopes that’s not the last time he sees you in it. He could be for you to wear it for his birthday, but is that a relationship type of thing?

“Ready to go?” You ask with the dress in your hand, your regular clothes back on.

“Yeah, let's go.” Steve grabs the dress from your grasp with one hand and interlocks his other with your own. He doesn’t know if it’s the way this whole experience made him feel or if it’s this guy who stole his spot on the bench eyeing you down that made him do it but he quickly brings the two of you to the check out desk.

Placing the dress on the counter he slips his wallet out of his pocket. You almost missed it due to the fact that his hand is still holding yours.

”Steve you really don’t have to, I mean I dragged you down here—“

“I picked it for you, my treat.” The fact that you are wearing a dress he picked and paid for on your date does something to him, the possessiveness within him lighting up easily.

”Boyfriends should always pay.” The girl at the front counter says with a giggle.

Neither of you correct her but instead leave with a polite wave. Hands still intertwined you wonder if this will make him crack. This stupid date isn’t supposed to go through, Steve just wasn’t getting any of your previous messages. You were hoping this whole trip would break him to tell you not to go but now you leave in his car with a dress he picked, paid for, and still has his hand tightly wrapped around yours with no word.

The ride to his house is silent besides a few lines of songs being sung out loud. When you do arrive at Steves he finally lets go of your hand to get out of the car. Both of you get out and before you even have a chance to open the back door to get your dress out Steve stops you.

”Are you sure you should really go on this date?” He asks leaning against the door you were about to open.

You take a second to think about his question, it wasn’t him outwardly asking you not to go but it was close enough.

“Y’know now that I think about it I really don’t know anything about this guy.” You say biting your nail, with a faux worried expression.

”I mean he could be a total douche, or worse like some killer they haven’t caught yet!” Instead of grabbing for your hand he goes to your waist. Both of his hands pull you into him, and his legs spread to let you in closer to him.

Like it was the most natural thing, you wrap your arms around his neck. “I think you’re right, it’s best I stay here with you” His eyes are on your lips as you say it.

“Yeah, I think that's a good idea.” Steve says before giving you a slow kiss. It’s soft and gentle, he tastes like the mint gum he was chewing before the mall. It’s everything you thought and more it would be with Steve.

The dress will still get used, just for something else.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #stranger things au #writing #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington hc #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n

678 notes · View notes

wvyik · 3 days ago

Text

NSFW ALPHABET.

sam winchester x fem! reader

ꕤ summary: my take on the infamous NSFW alphabet where each letter represents a different aspect of sam's freaky, loving, and sometimes unexpected side in bed!!

♯ warnings: mdni!! extremely explicit content, mature themes, adult language, graphic sex details, explicit descriptions of intimacy, kinky stuff, too much masturbation going on, hair pulling, choking, body worship, switch! sam, light voyeurism, unhinged, highly detailed cock description.

♯ notes: thank you for the anon that brought you this post!!! this has been on my mind for way too long. if you missed it, here’s the dean version of this post. i’m officially registering as a whore.

A = AFTERCARE..

Sam is top-tier, elite, gold-star certified in aftercare. Like, let’s be real. Sam Winchester has a guilt complex the size of Kansas, deep emotional intelligence (even when he tries to bottle it), and a lover boy heart under all that trauma. So after sex? He’s gentle as hell.

It doesn’t matter if it was rough, slow, quick, emotional, or downright feral; he’s checking in. He’s the type to brush your hair out of your face while your chest is still heaving. He cups your jaw and whispers, “You okay, baby?” with that raspy, post-orgasm voice. He won’t stop touching you, but not in a sexy way. Like, soft touches. His palm on your thigh. His fingers lacing with yours. That kinda thing.

Sam’s also super intuitive. If you’re the talky type after sex? He’s gonna lie there and listen to you ramble and giggle with you like you’re both drunk off each other. If you go quiet? He’ll pull you to his chest and just breathe with you. Run his fingers down your spine. Let the silence feel safe.

Lowkey, he’s a clean-up king too. Grabs a towel, helps you wipe down, maybe even carries you to the bathroom if you’re too wobbly. You just know he’s the kind to whisper “I’ll be right back, don’t move” before slipping out of bed to get you water or a snack.

And let’s not forget: he’s always gonna be overthinking. Like even if everything went perfectly, Sam’s still gonna be laying there like, was I too rough? did I make them feel good? do they still like me? So if you curl into him, praise him a little, you can feel his body relax like you just unclenched every knot in his soul.

B = BODY PART..

Sam’s favorite part of himself? His hips.

This man is so unaware of how lethal he is until you’re under him, and suddenly that slow, deep roll of his hips becomes his favorite weapon. Sam doesn’t walk around thinking he’s sexy, but the second he sees the way you react to the way he fucks? The way you grab his waist, beg for more, whimper when he grinds deep and doesn’t let up?

That’s when it clicks.

And it turns into obsession. Not in a cocky way, but a hungry one. He’ll hold your legs open and grind slow, steady, deep— not just to get himself off, but to feel you fall apart. It makes him feel powerful. Grounded. Needed. Like you were made for him and he was made to fit into you just right.

However, when it comes to you… your stomach.

Soft or toned, flat or plush, he’s obsessed. The gentle curve of it. The way it twitches when he runs his fingers low. The way it stretches when you arch. He’ll pull your shirt up just to kiss it. Slide his palm over it slowly while you’re laying together, like he’s memorizing you. During sex, he’ll rest his hand there, right under your ribs like he’s holding all of you together while he fucks you open.

And if you’re insecure about it? Sam’s the guy who will not shut up about how beautiful you are. “Don’t hide from me, baby,” he’ll whisper, lips hot against your skin. “You know how crazy you make me?” And then he’ll show you. With his mouth, with his hands, with every inch of himself.

C = CUM..

Sam Winchester is not some careless, casual spur-of-the-moment guy when it comes to this, nah. When Sam finishes, it’s a whole experience. He’s in his feelings about it. His soul is involved.

Where he likes to finish? Sam’s a deep finish kinda man. He wants to come inside. Always. That doesn’t mean he does every time (he respects boundaries 1000%) but he’s obsessed with the idea of being inside you while he fills you up. Like it does something to his brain. You’d feel his hips shudder and he’d bury himself all the way in, holding you still, letting out this low, broken groan like he’s losing his entire mind.

And if you let him? That whole “dripping out of you” thing after? He stares at it. Literally lays there between your legs and just watches it slowly spill out while you whine and try to close your thighs. He’ll spread you open again and mutter something like, “God, look at that… made you take all of it.”

How he cums? LOUD. Like, Sam does not cum quietly. All that control, all that restraint— gone. He’s whimpering, panting, moaning into your neck or your shoulder or your fucking mouth if you’re kissing when it happens. It’s deep, it’s needy, and it’s so goddamn personal.

His hands will be locked on your body like he’s afraid you’ll float away if he lets go. Thumbs bruising into your hips. Forehead pressed to yours. All that tension? It explodes.

Kinks around it? Breeding kink. Sorry. Sorry but NOT sorry. That man does not casually cum in someone, he breeds. He fucks like he’s trying to own you. Doesn’t even mean he wants babies, necessarily (though that fantasy might linger in his brain on bad days when he wants a soft life he thinks he doesn’t deserve) but it’s the claiming. The act. The feeling of “I gave you everything I had.” That gets to him. Hard.

He also loves watching it drip down your thighs if he pulls out. He’ll tease you about it. Drag a finger through it. Maybe push it back in just to see you squirm. All slow and lazy and smug with that post-nut, hair-sticking-to-his-forehead kinda look.

D = DIRTY SECRET..

Sam Winchester’s dirty secret? He fantasizes about being corrupted.

Yeah, I said it. It’s not even about you being some evil little seductress or whatever, it’s about him not having to be good for once. He grew up being the “responsible one,” the “good son,” the guy who overthinks every moral choice. But in the dark, behind closed doors? He dreams of letting go. Of someone dragging the sin out of him, teasing it out, making him beg for things he’d never say out loud.

In his head? It’s always messy. Shameful. Hot.

He pictures you tugging his hair while he’s on his knees. Telling him he like being used. He does. He fucking does. He likes the idea of you riding him until he’s whimpering. Scratching your nails down his chest while he stutters apologies for how fast he came. Of you pulling him in by his dog tag or his belt loop and saying, “C’mon, Sammy. Be bad for me.”

He’ll never admit this to you. Ever. He plays it cool. Maybe a little dominant, a little protective. But behind his eyes? He’s imagining what it’d feel like to lose it. To fall apart under you. To be the one who’s teased, overstimmed, punished a little, not cruelly, but like he’s yours. Like he doesn’t have to hold it together anymore.

And the dirtiest part of all? He touches himself to the thought of you ruining him. Not hurting. Not degrading. Just… undoing. He’ll come fast. Embarrassingly fast. And then hate himself a little for how bad he wants it.

E = EXPERIENCE..

This is not a “yes or no” question with Sam.

Here’s the truth,

Sam hasn’t slept with as many people as Dean, not even close. His number isn’t low-low, but it’s definitely selective. He’s never been the one-night stand guy unless he’s in a full-on emotional spiral (see: post-Ruby, soulless Sam era, or when he’s trying to shut his feelings down). He doesn’t fuck just to fuck. That’s never been his vibe. But when he does fuck?

He means it.

Sam’s got emotional experience. He’s got intensity. He listens to your body. He feels everything, and that makes him dangerous in bed, not ‘cause he’s reckless, but because he’s so focused. He’s a fast learner, a people pleaser, and painfully observant. You gasp a little louder when he sucks there? That’s now in the rotation. Your legs twitch when he angles his hips just right? He will not stop until you’re begging.

So does he know what he’s doing? Too fucking well. And he doesn’t brag about it. Doesn’t have to. He’s got the kind of confidence that makes you nervous when he starts kissing your neck like he’s got all night.

He’s experimental, but only if you are too. He’s not scared to try new things. Wants to explore. Communicates really well. That whole Stanford brain? It’s in the bedroom too. He analyzes what makes you tick.

And don’t even get me started on his stamina. That man can go multiple rounds and still have the audacity to ask, “You okay to go again?” while your legs are shaking. Long fingers, long tongue, long everything. And he uses all of it.

But what makes it even hotter? That little rookie edge that never fully goes away. He’s not cocky like Dean. He gets flustered sometimes when you praise him. Looks down at you with those big brown eyes like he can’t believe you’re moaning his name like that. He blushes if you say something filthy. That mix of power and softness?? Deadly.

F = FAVORITE POSITION(S)..

1. MISSIONARY. BUT.. I’m talking feral missionary. Let’s get this straight: Sam loves eye contact. He wants to watch you fall apart. Wants to see every flutter of your lashes, every little twitch of your mouth when you moan his name. He’s a romantic. A bit of a control freak. So missionary? When he’s deep inside you, his hands pinning your wrists into the mattress, sweat dripping down his neck, his forehead against yours while pounding into you? Yeah. That’s peak Sam Winchester.

And if you wrap your legs around his waist? Or hook your ankles behind his back and pull him in deeper? He’ll literally lose his mind. That skin-on-skin closeness is everything to him. He loves the intimacy. Loves the grip he’s got on you. Loves that he can thrust slow or hard or hold you still and grind into you while you gasp like he’s in your lungs. He lives for your reactions.

2. YOU ON TOP, FACING HIM (COWGIRL). Not reverse. Face-to-face. Sam likes seeing your body, your expressions, your hands on his chest. But what kills him is the power. You’re in control. You set the pace. And he LOVES that. He’ll put his hands on your waist, let you ride him until he’s groaning through gritted teeth, whispering things like, “God, just like that… keep going, baby…”

But the moment he sees your thighs start shaking? He flips the script. Grabs your hips, starts thrusting up into you while you whimper, overwhelmed. He lives for that whiny, fucked-out look you give him when he takes control back just enough.

3. FROM BEHIND, BUT… Make it emotional. This is like, on the bed, both of you half-naked, bodies tangled. He’s kneeling behind you, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist or rubbing slow circles over your clit. Deep, controlled strokes while he leans in to kiss your shoulder, whisper in your ear, “You feel so fucking good… you take me so well, sweetheart.”

If he’s feeling unhinged? He’ll hold you by the throat and fuck into you like he needs it. But afterward? He’ll press kisses down your spine like he’s sorry for ever letting go like that. Because that’s Sam. Gentle and a freak.

G = GOOFY..

Sam is serious in the sheets… Most of the time.

He’s intense. Focused. Like he’s got a fucking mission; to worship you, ruin you, and make you feel so good you forget your own name. Especially if he’s in a soft or angsty headspace? He takes sex seriously. Like it matters. Every moan, every stroke, every look? Feels like a fucking prayer.

BUT…

He has a very chaotic goofy side that only comes out when he’s really comfortable with you. Like you’ve been fucking for a while, there’s trust, there’s closeness, there’s banter… THEN it starts.

To give out a few examples: He’ll chuckle when your stomach growls mid-foreplay and be like, “We should’ve eaten first…” while still pulling your panties down, Or he’ll groan dramatically when he realizes he forgot a condom again like, “Okay this is the fourth time this week, I swear I’m not doing it on purpose..” If you make a stupid joke while you’re on top of him? He’ll laugh, but then thrust up suddenly and say, “Still funny?” with that smug fucking face.

And if you’re shy or embarrassed about something mid-sex? He instantly makes you feel better. Might joke gently. Kiss your forehead. Murmur, “You’re perfect, baby. I promise.” He keeps things light without making it unserious. He’s the king of making you feel safe enough to laugh and moan in the same breath.

And oh the post-nut giggles? Oh he gets them. Not every time, but if it was extra messy or especially intense? He’ll bury his face in your neck and laugh like, “Jesus Christ, what the hell did we just do.” It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s sexy as fuck.

H = HAIR..

Let’s start with the obvious: Yes, the carpet matches the damn drapes. Brown. Thick. Yeah. He’s not fully shaved, he’s neatly groomed down there. Enough that it’s never in the way, never too wild, but still super Sam. Like, you pull his pants down and you’re greeted with trimmed hair, a big cock, and the scent of his skin and it’s just so real. So raw. You’re instantly feral.

Chest hair? OH MY GOD. YES. It’s there. It’s fine but it’s still enough to feel when you’re laying on him after sex. A little patch between his pecs, trailing down his stomach in that V-line of sin. That happy trail™. It leads straight down and you follow it with your lips every time like it’s ritual.

Facial hair? Depends on the era. Sometimes he shaves. Sometimes he’s stubbly. But when he’s got that little beard scruff going on? Oh yeah. You feel it burn your thighs when he’s going down on you. You feel it drag along your neck when he kisses your collarbone. You tell him not to shave and he listens. Every time.

I = INTIMACY..

Like i already said, sex with Sam is emotionally based. And that’s what makes it so intense. Sam’s the kind of lover where even if it starts rough, needy, desperate, somewhere in the middle of it always turns into something deeper on a personal level.

He looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.

When he’s inside you, it’s like the whole world disappears. Like nothing else matters except the way you’re holding onto him, moaning into his mouth, whispering his name like it’s the only word you remember. He’s so focused. So connected. He makes you feel like you’re the only person who has ever touched him.

Kissing? Always. He has to kiss you during sex. Even if it’s messy, even if you’re turned away or on top, he’ll find your lips. He’ll guide your face to his with shaking fingers, panting against your mouth like he needs it more than air. That closeness? That skin-to-skin, soul-to-soul type of thing? That’s what he lives for.

He says the softest things, too. Especially when you’re not expecting it. It hits harder because he means every single fucking word.

And the thing is? Sex doesn’t always have to be soft to be intimate with Sam. He can rail you into the mattress and still make you feel like you’re the center of his universe. That’s the duality. That’s what fucks you up. He holds your heart while he ruins your body. Because for him? Intimacy is everything. Not a bonus. Not some accidental side effect. It’s the whole reason he’s there.

J = JACK OFF..

First of all, how often? Sam pretends he doesn’t do it much. Like he’ll act all focused, always reading lore, training, being the world’s biggest buzzkill, but behind closed doors? He’s so fucking down bad it’s unreal.

If he’s around you and can’t have you? It’s a problem. Like, he’ll lock himself in the bunker’s bathroom after seeing you walk around in one of his hoodies with no pants on, cheeks red, muttering to himself like, “Fucking hell, get it together, Sam.”

And then… yeah. The pants come off. Fast.

When? At night. In the shower. When he’s on a hunt and misses you so bad he can’t sleep. When you send him a voice message that wasn’t even hot or something, but your voice alone has him rock fucking hard. And sometimes? Middle of the day, unexpectedly. You laugh a certain way. Bite your lip. Call him “Sammy” with that soft little look in your eyes? Yeah. He’ll be hard for hours and finally give in when he’s alone.

How? He starts slow. He tries to keep it clean. Like, he’ll palm himself through his sweats and sigh like, “Just a quick one, get it out of your system” but that is never what ends up happening. Because the second he wraps that big hand around his cock and thinks about you moaning? Whining his name? Riding him? Begging him to come inside you? He’s done for.

Sometimes he leans back against the wall and imagines you straddling him, fingers digging into his shoulders while you whisper in his ear. Other times he gets on his knees in the shower and pictures you standing over him, telling him what to do. Either way? He finishes hard. With a groan he tries to muffle.

And afterward? He’s so ashamed. Like full hands-over-his-face, “God, what’s wrong with me” energy. But it never stops him from doing it again the next night.

What does he think about?

You. Always you. Not even just the sex. Sometimes it’s your laugh. The way you pout. The little sigh you make when he kisses your neck. He builds entire fantasies in his head, like you sneaking into his bed in the middle of the night and grinding on him under the sheets… or dropping to your knees while he’s trying to study lore and saying, “You’ve been so good, baby. Let me help.” It’s the emotional + the physical. He goes feral for both.

K = KINK(S)..

1. PRAISE KINK. Sam needs to hear how good he’s making you feel. Not in a cocky way, but like, he craves that validation.“You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.” He’ll literally start panting harder, fucking deeper, the second you whimper that shit. He never grew up being told he was good enough. So in bed? When you make him feel like a god with your voice? It wrecks him. He’ll mutter little broken replies too, all breathless, “Yeah? I got you, baby… s’only me, right?” (YES IT’S ONLY YOU SAMUEL.)

2. OVERSTIMULATION KINK. Sam is lowkey addicted to watching you come over and over again. The first orgasm isn’t even the goal; it’s just the beginning. He’ll use his fingers, his tongue, his cock… and he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, pulling at him, whimpering that it’s “too much.” But he’s so sweet about it. He whispers, “You can do it, baby… gimme one more. Just one more.” And when you cry for him? That’s when he praises you even more, calls you his good girl, pretty thing, perfect angel while he works you through it with those perfect fucking fingers.

3. LIGHT DARCYPHILIA. Hear me out, if you ever cry during sex, (From the pleasure of it or from being so emotionally overwhelmed?) Sam loses it. He goes into full soft-mode. Whispers your name over and over. Kisses your tears. Tells you how beautiful you are, how you feel so good, how he has you. It’s never power thing with him. It’s connection. He’s never felt anything like that before, and it makes the orgasm hit harder. For both of you.

4. HAIR PULLING (ESPECIALLY HIS). If you tug his hair when you’re on top or while he’s between your legs? He literally moans. Like chokes on it. His hips will stutter. He’ll let out this rough, low, “fuck— do that again.” And he loves to gently pull your hair too. Mostly to make you look up at him while he fucks you. To get that eye contact he’s obsessed with. To see your face while he ruins you.

L = LOCATION..

1. HIS BED. This is his main HQ for sex. Why? Because it’s safe. Private. Cozy. He can take his time, strip you slowly, light a candle or two if he’s feeling soft. The sheets are always warm. His pillow smells like him. There’s usually a lore book or journal half-open on the nightstand that he shoves aside to pull you underneath him. He’ll fuck you into the mattress like it’s the last time every single time.

2. THE IMPALA. He tries to not do this often because Dean would literally murder him if he found out, but when you’re both desperate on a hunt, there’s only one room available at a shitty motel and you don’t wanna traumatize Dean? Yeah. That backseat becomes your whole universe. You straddle him, bouncing in his lap with your panties shoved to the side, and he’s gripping your hips like his life depends on it. One hand braced on the ceiling, the other shoved up your shirt, and he’s groaning your name like a prayer. Everything’s cramped and sweaty and messy and ughhh. Yeah.

3. MOTEL ROOMS. You step into a cheap, flickering-light motel room and the second the door locks? Sam turns into a different man. He doesn’t care about taking it slow, he wants you. Against the wall. On the desk. On that creaky-ass bed with the ugly blanket bunched up under your knees. He loves fucking you in front of the mirror there, too. One hand in your hair, the other on your waist while he watches you both move. And God forbid the shower’s working. That’s where he gets especially filthy, pressing you to the wall, sucking water off your skin, fucking you under the spray until it runs cold.

4. LIBRARY TABLES IN THE BUNKER. You’re sitting in his lap. Trying to “study.” His laptop’s open. His eyes are locked on your neck. And before you can even flip a page, his hand is sliding under your skirt. He eats you out on top of lore, bends you over old books, moans your name into the crook of your shoulder while he fills you from behind. You’re panting. He’s groaning. Pages are fluttering off the desk. And when it’s over? He marks the page and says, “We’ll come back to that later.”

M = MOTIVATION..

Sam is not the type to just randomly get horny and go jerk off like Dean does. Nah. He builds up. Here’s what gets him going:

1. YOUR VOICE. Soft. Whiny. Teasing. Anything. You could just be reading off a menu, and he’ll suddenly be thinking about your lips around his cock. You whimper his name when you’re sleepy? His brain short-circuits. You moan a little too loud during a stretch? “Goddamn it…” He’s hard. Fully. And now he has to figure out how to not fuck you into the kitchen counter.

2. YOUR BRATTY BEHAVIOR. Sam doesn’t know how to handle it when you talk back. You roll your eyes? Get a little snarky? Say ‘make me’? He gives you that look. That “Are you sure you wanna start this?” look. And the second you smirk or sass him again? You’re pinned to the mattress in 0.4 seconds with his hand on your throat and his voice in your ear, “You’ve got a mouth on you tonight, huh?”

3. NEEDING HIM. You curl into his lap and whimper “Sammy, please”? You grab at him mid-kiss like you’re gonna break without him inside you? He gets this overwhelmed, aching urgency to take care of you. To fuck you slow. To kiss every part of you like he’s trying to fix something inside you. Because what turns him on most isn’t just sex. It’s that you trust him. That you want him. That you’re so fucking soft with him and no one else gets that.

4. FEAR OF LOSING CONTROL. Oh yeah. Sam’s biggest turn-on? Is that moment where he realizes he can’t not have you. It’s psychological. A little dark. That feeling like, if he doesn’t touch you, fuck you, hear you fall apart for him, he might lose his mind. It’s what makes the sex rougher. It’s what makes him whisper “Mine.” It’s what makes him finish so deep and so desperate that he can’t even open his eyes for a second afterward.

N = NO..

Anything non-consensual, degrading, or humiliating. Even in roleplay, even in dirty talk, no means no. Period. Sam’s not into anything that makes you feel small. He’s obsessed with you, babe. He’d never be able to look you in the eye after calling you names or slapping you across the face. He doesn’t even like it when you say you’re not good enough.

Also, public sex where you could actually get caught. He’ll bend you over in a secluded spot, sure. He’ll pull you into the backseat on a lonely road. But the second there’s even a chance of someone seeing you? Absolutely not. Not even a little exhibitionism. Not his thing. It makes him tense. He’s so protective, and the thought of you being exposed, humiliated, or seen like that by some random asshole makes his stomach twist. He wants your body to be just for him. Not a show. Not a joke.

Pet play, daddy kink, or calling you baby girl is a big no for him, too. It’s just not his language. It makes him feel weird. He’s not into calling himself “Daddy.” Or calling you “Baby girl.” He’ll call you baby, sweetheart, angel, his girl, but nothing that gives off weird power dynamic vibes. Especially not the kind that messes with your innocence or infantilizes you. That shit makes him uncomfortable. And pet names like kitten, princess, puppy? No.

And Meaningless sex. Maybe he could’ve in his soulless era. Maybe during some fucked-up grief spiral post-Jess or post-Ruby. But normally? If he doesn’t care about you, he’s not hard. He’s not in it. He’s not mentally or emotionally there. He’s an intimacy guy. That’s his fuel. He needs that trust.

O = ORAL..

Let’s start with the only thing that matters, Sam loves going down on you more than he loves himself. No exaggeration. That man lives between your thighs. You sit on his face and it’s like home sweet home. He’ll literally moan into your pussy, his big hands gripping your thighs like they’re sacred.

He’s slow at first, torturously slow. Draws lazy circles with his tongue, looks up at you through those ridiculous lashes while you twitch. And the eye contact?? He’s obsessed. Keeps his mouth on you the whole time, staring up at you with that ruined, messy face like he wants to see your soul leave your body.

And oh my god, he talks. You grind on his tongue and he’s saying shit like, “That’s it… tastes so fucking good… look at you.”

He eats pussy like he’s starving. Like he has to. And when you cum? He doesn’t back off. He locks you down and rides it out, tongue still working you while your legs shake around his shoulders and you’re whining his name like a prayer. If you push at his head, he growls, “Uh-uh. One more. Gimme one more.”

And yes, he jerks off to the memory of it later. One hand wrapped around his cock while he thinks about the way you screamed when he sucked on your clit. Degenerate. Oh my god who said that??…

Now let’s talk receiving.

He loves it. He’s just not needy about it. He’ll never ask for it, but the second your hand brushes his thigh, he spreads his legs a little wider, eyes locked on you like; Are you sure? Are you really gonna do this right now? And when you drop to your knees his head tips back. He moans like you just saved his life.

But what kills him isn’t just the sensation; it’s the look on your face while you do it. The soft glances. The way you worship him. He gets overwhelmed fast. Starts gripping your hair. Moaning through his teeth. Begging you with breathy little, “F-fuck, baby, you don’t have to—oh my God…”

There’s definitely a few times he accidentally finished faster than he wanted to and blushed for the rest of the day. But he’ll make it up to you. Oh baby. He’ll drag you onto the bed and make you cum twice with his mouth before you can even breathe.

P = PACE..

His default pace? Slow. Deep. Sensual. He moves with full strokes, hips grinding slow, keeping his forehead against yours or his mouth on your neck. Every thrust has weight. Has meaning. He needs to feel all of you, how your body grips him, how your breath catches when he rolls his hips just right, how your thighs tremble when he doesn’t pull back all the way and instead just grinds into your spot again and again and again, “That feel good, baby? Yeah? That’s it. Let me take my time.” Sam wants to witness you falling apart. He wants to be right there, eye-to-eye, panting into your mouth while you gasp and squirm under him.

But oh, when he gets desperate…

Fast. Rough. Deep. Unhinged. It happens when he’s been holding back for too long— on a hunt, or when he’s been jealous, or if you tease him all day and act innocent. Suddenly you’re bent over the desk, hands braced, and Sam’s behind you pounding into you so hard the books fall off the shelf. He’s gripping your hips, his voice tight, low, groaning things like, “This what you wanted? Huh? Couldn’t wait five minutes?” He’s not always vocal, but when the pace picks up? He’s feral. He moans. He curses. He says your name like it’s the only word he knows. You’re not walking straight tomorrow if he’s in one of those moods.

Q = QUICKIE..

He’ll pretend he doesn’t like them. Sam will act all rational like, “I’d rather wait till we’re alone… I don’t want to rush anything… it’s better when we have time…” But deep down??

That man is a fucking liar.

Because when he’s hard, when he’s needy, when you press up against him in the hallway and whisper “Five minutes. Please, Sammy.” he’s already unzipping his jeans.

It doesn’t happen super often. Sam doesn’t crave them as much, but when they do happen? It’s because he’s so overwhelmed by you he can’t think straight. Like; when you wear something provocative, grind on him and stuff like that. Suddenly he’s grabbing your hand, dragging you into the nearest room, locking the door like, “Okay. Bend over. Now.”

How he feels after? Lowkey guilty. But not for long. He wipes you down with his shirt sleeve and kisses your forehead like it was a sacred act even though your legs are still shaking. He always promises to make it up to you that night.

R = RISK..

Public stuff / getting caught? Like i said. NOPE. IMMEDIATE SHUTDOWN. Sam is not into getting caught. He will risk your back being blown out in a gas station bathroom, sure, but he needs control.

But like… fucking you with the bunker door unlocked while Dean’s asleep down the hall? Yes. That kind of “you have to stay quiet” risk?? He lives for it. He gets off on the idea that he’s the only one who knows how ruined you look under him. It’s secret. Not public. That’s the difference.

HOWEVER, THERES A FEW RISQUÉ THINGS HE WOULD DO, LIKE..

⭑ Letting you tie him up. (Nervous at first, but goes feral once he trusts you. He begs so pretty.)

⭑ Phone sex in the middle of a hunt. (Voice all low and strained while he jerks off in a motel bathroom.)

⭑ Letting you suck him off while he’s on the phone with someone.

S = STAMINA..

First round energy?? Foreplay for a solid 20 minutes minimum. Fingering you slow, teasing kisses down your body, tongue between your thighs until you’re a sobbing mess and he’s still calm as hell, like, “One more before I even touch you, yeah?”

Then when he finally slides in? It’s slow. He doesn’t like to rush. He doesn’t even care if he finishes right away, his entire goal is to make you cum at least twice before he even thinks about pulling out.

But when he gets close? He lasts. Like… too long. You’re still on round one, shaking, nails clawed into his back, and he’s still going with sweat dripping off his jaw and his voice all raspy like, “Almost there, baby… just hold on for me a little longer.” Like no. Sir. I can’t. I physically cannot take any more. And yet you do, because he holds you through every stroke and tells you how good you are the entire time.

Multiple rounds?? YES. ABSOLUTELY. CONSISTENTLY. He’ll go two rounds minimum on a regular night. If you’re both worked up or he’s been gone for a while? Three. Four.

Recovery time? Quick. Man’s metabolism is on crack. Give him 10-15 minutes and a sip of water and he’s ready again, hard against your thigh while he kisses your shoulder and whispers “Can I?” He doesn’t even need sleep after, just a cuddle. A praise session. A little pillow talk about how fucking perfect you are. And he’s back in action.

T = TOYS..

First of all, YES. Sam owns toys. He just keeps them very private. Hidden in a locked drawer in his bunker room, tucked under layers of boring-ass lore books, so Dean never even thinks about touching it. He doesn’t have a million flashy things. No neon-colored silicone junk. His collection is intentional. A little sleek. A little intimidating. And all designed to make you scream.

On you? Oh babe. That’s his favorite. He uses toys like a study tool. Like he’s learning your body from scratch.

Vibrating bullet while he fucks you? He watches your face while he turns it higher. Moans softly when your back arches. He��ll hold it against your clit and stay buried inside you, whispering, “Come on, baby. Let it go. I’ve got you.” He does not move until you’ve cum twice. He lives for how soaked it makes you.

Wand vibrator?? That thing does not leave the nightstand. He’ll strap you down or hold your legs apart and just… watch. Tells you not to move. Keeps his hand firm on your stomach to feel you twitching. And when you beg to cum? He leans down and murmurs, “Then do it for me. Right now.” And when you do? He praises the hell out of you, while flipping it back on for another round.

On himself? He doesn’t usually need them… but for you?? He’ll do anything.

You ask him to try a cock ring? He nods, already flushed. You want to ride him while controlling the vibrator against his dick? He’s breathless, trying not to bust instantly just from how filthy it looks. And handcuffs?? Don’t even get him started. You cuff him up one time, sit on his face, and he’ll be ruined for the rest of his life.

U = UNFAIR..

First of all, He lives for it. He’ll spend hours making you squirm just because he loves seeing that pretty little tension in your jaw. You whimper? He smirks. You roll your hips toward him? He backs away. And when you pout and beg? “You’re so cute when you’re needy, baby.” AND THEN DOESN’T EVEN TOUCH YOU.

Physical teasing? He’s a literal terrorist. He’ll touch everywhere but where you need. Kiss your thighs. Suck your neck. Drag his fingers up your stomach and stop right before your clit, just to hear you whimper.

One of his favorite moves is holding the base of his cock, rubbing the tip through your folds for what feels like forever, grinning at how messy and needy you get. AUGHGGSGG.

V = VOLUME..

Sam is a moaner… Like, a real, honest-to-God moaner. The first time you go down on him? He gasps. Whimpers. Whines. His hand tangles in your hair and he’s trying so hard to hold it together, but that first swirl of your tongue? He chokes out a guttural “Fuck—baby…” and it just keeps going from there.

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. He gets so wrapped up in the moment, so into you, that his brain just shuts off and all that’s left is raw sound.

OH AND When he goes down on you? He moans into your pussy like it’s his job. Low vibrations, messy tongue, and every single one of his desperate little grunts are just as much for your pleasure as his own. He gets off on your sounds. Groans louder the louder you get.

However, Sam is the loudest when he cums. All that control he usually has?? Gone. He’s cursing, moaning your name, whining, clutching at your hips like he might fall through the bed. If it’s intense, like one of those long, slow, emotional kind of finishes; he’ll whimper. Full-on, breathless, high-pitched whimpers. And he collapses on top of you, still murmuring, “So fucking good… Jesus… I love you so much…”

W = WILD CARD..

Sam has a very specific, deeply repressed kink for being caught jerking off. AND LISTEN. He doesn’t want to want it. It goes against everything he thinks he is. But somewhere in the deep dark crevices of that messed-up Stanford dropout brain of his?? There’s a wire that got twisted. A part of him that lives for the shame of it.

He has a whole-ass fantasy of you walking in on him. Not in a hot, “oops babe caught you” way. No. He wants it messy. He wants to be red-faced, panting, fist wrapped tight around his cock, back hunched, completely wrecked, sweaty hair sticking to his face and his mouth hanging open like a desperate animal.

And then the door creaks. And you’re standing there. Watching. “Oh my God— Sam?” He freezes. Eyes wide. Hands still. “Fuck—I thought you were asleep—shit—” He scrambles for a blanket but it’s too late. You’ve already seen everything. And instead of looking disgusted, you tilt your head and give him a look. And that’s it. That’s the fantasy. That look you give him. That sick little thrill that comes with being caught with his guard down, not in control. It makes him cum so hard he blacks out.

Realistically? He’d NEVER bring it up. Too mortified. Too wholesome on the surface. He WANTS to be humiliated, but only by you. Don’t be fooled though. He’s still your good boy. Even when he’s trembling with guilt and cum all over his hand.

X = X-RAY..

You better listen carefully because im about to get real fucking specific out here.

Let’s not even lie about it, this man is hung. Like not pornstar fake-looking veiny monster but in that “why is that shit still growing??” kind of way.

Soft? It’s still intimidating. Like you accidentally brush his thigh and think it’s a wallet or a knife but no, ma’am. It’s the holy weapon. Hard? You’re staring at it like, “Okay. That’s gonna hurt. And I want it to.”

We’re talking like 8.5 inches BUT HE FUCKS LIKE IT’S TWELVE. Because he knows how to use it. It’s not just big, it’s mean. It curves just slightly up and hits your g-spot like he’s got a goddamn degree in it. A little too wide to comfortably deepthroat without tears but you still do it like a patriot!!

When it comes to girth, this is where he’s unreasonable. Thick. Like genuinely. Your hand doesn’t close all the way around it and the first time he slides in.

⭑ Tip? Pink. A little swollen when he’s worked up.

⭑ Shaft? A couple veins, nothing too crazy, but one nasty one that runs up the underside and THROBS when he’s close.

⭑ Curve? Slight, upward, aka DESTROYER OF WORLDS.

⭑ Balls? Big. Warm. Hang low when he’s relaxed. He’ll literally grunt if you play with them too long like an old man getting up from a recliner.

Oh, and i imagine he’s got that silky skin but steel underneath kind of vibe. When you jerk him off, it’s smooth as hell but you can feel how rock hard he is. Sometimes when he’s super turned on, it jumps in your hand. Like it literally twitches just from the sight of you.

Overall vibe check? (…Yes im doing this.) That dick has the audacity to look polite and wholesome and then ruin your cervix like it’s personal. Like it didn’t ask for permission, it gave a gentle kiss and then wrecked your shit for hours. The kind of cock that ends friendships, starts wars, and has you sitting there the next morning with shaky legs and a religious awakening.

Y = YEARNING..

I feel like I may be repeating myself, (That’s what I get for caring way too much just to write one paragraph for each headcanon.) Sam’s sex drive is pretty high, but it’s rooted in emotion. When he loves you?? When he’s in it?? He wants you all. the. time. In ways that go way beyond just “I’m horny” and straight into “I need to be inside you to feel like a person again.”

It’s the longing that kills him. He could go days without touching you and still be craving you like he’s starving. Just seeing you laugh across the bunker? Feeling your hand brush his thigh under the table? He’s hard. He’s aching. He has to excuse himself to the hallway to take a few deep breaths.

He’s SO emotionally attached to sex. He jerks off just thinking about your moans. Not your tits. Not even the way you ride him. Just the sound you make when you whimper his name. I gotta drive that point home.

Z = ZZZ..

It depends on the type of sex.

If it’s a full-blown, body-shaking, filthy, 3-round, “I’m gonna wreck you” session? That man is out like a fucking light. He rolls over, panting like he just ran 15 miles, wraps one massive arm around your waist, and just… collapses.

If it’s slow and emotional? He stays awake a little longer. Just to soak it in. You’re all pressed against his chest, sticky and glowing, and he’s whispering shit like, “That was everything.” He strokes your hair while you fall asleep first. He tucks the blanket around your shoulders and passes out with his mouth slightly open against your hair. Probably drooling a little. Would lick it up ngl.

But if you’re not okay? If you seem shaky? Sensitive? Just need aftercare?? Sam will stay up all night. No matter what. He gets soft and focused, cleans you up real gentle, makes sure you’re warm, gets you water, and pulls you into his chest.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @mostlymarvelgirl @freeluigihesbae @impala67rollingthroughtown @multiversefanfics @starzify @ladykitana90 @idontwannabehere78 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @pieandflannel @tendertulip @tinas111 @everythingisaspectrum @pennywatsonlafayette @lunaleah @anxiety-prime-max @amsliajskxkxkx @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @kimxwinchester @incubusimmolation @riteofpassage77 @ohangeleyes @kcundercover4 @southernimpala @laceandlipstick @bowbowrry @fernsplace @freds-chocolate-starfish @uchihasenpai2000 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

۶ৎ wanna be tagged too?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! read more of my works @ masterlist.

#༊*·˚ wvyik #sofia writes ✎#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester smut #sam x reader #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

482 notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months ago

Note

You would hit BELIEVE how happy I am that you’re writing fics for Declan O’Hara he’s my new DILF obsession!!! Also it was so well-written and in-character, oh my goodness!

I was wondering if I could request a fic where Declan and female!reader are having an affair, and she’s super nervous because she’s Taggie’s best friend. She meets Declan one night in his car, and he calms her down and, obviously, they have car sex.

Ending this with a huge I LOVE YOUR WORK

Shut Up and Drive.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The one person who riles you up the most is also the only person that can calm you down.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. cheating. declan and his dirty mouth. one use of the c word. overuse of the nickname sweetheart.

word count - 3k

authors note - the minute he put that baby blue t shirt on… I was suddenly on my knees. funny how that happens. can’t and won’t stop with the fics for this man. I am riding the rivals train to the ends of the earth, baby. thanks for being so sweet, anon <3

masterlist. inbox.

The phone is shaking in your trembling hand, cord all tangled where you keep twisting it around your finger nervously.

“Hello?”

You almost drop the receiver at the sound of that familiar Irish accent, despite the fact that you were the one that rang him. It has your stomach churning, in a different way than usual.

“H-hi,” you barely whisper, before clearing your throat and trying again. “Hi. It’s me.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he breathes, as if it’s the first time he’s taken a lungful of air all day.

“I, um… I’m sorry to call you on the house phone. I know it’s not how we do things usually.”

“It’s alright. What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I just, uh… I called to say that I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I would have told you in person, but I didn’t know when I was going to see you next, so.”

“Can we-” he begins, before lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, “-can we talk about this properly? Please?”

“We can’t. I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m beggin’ ya. One conversation. You’re not ending this in a quick phone call on a Wednesday night, you hear me?”

You inhale deeply, biting at your lips. There’s pure anxiety radiating through your body, prickly and unrelenting.

“I hear you,” you murmur down the receiver. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief. “I’m gonna come and get ya - we’ll go for a drive, alright?”

“Sorry you have to lie,” you whisper, guilt colouring your tone.

“I’d lie for you a thousand times over.”

His words shouldn’t make you feel as giddy as they do, but alas. Here you are.

“I’ll put some shoes on.”

“And a coat. It’s cold as fuck tonight.”

You half laugh, half snort at him down the phone, dreamily imagining the grin he most likely has painted on his face listening to you.

“Yes sir,” you tease, giggling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll drive up without my headlights on. Look out for me, yeah?”

“I will.”

I always do, you think to yourself. I always do.

The line goes dead abruptly, the buzzing vibrating straight into your temples. You slip your shoes on, quickly fixing your hair and touching up your makeup in the mirror in the hallway while you’re there. You shrug your arms into your coat at Declan’s orders, knowing he’d tell you off if you turned up without it on.

You’ve almost forgotten the entire reason you called in the first place was to break things off with him.

Almost.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

True to his word, Declan drives up your road without his headlights on, slowly and with practised precision.

You’re waiting at the window for him, patiently anticipating the sight of that stupid yellow car. You’re out of the door in seconds as soon as you see him, bounding towards the passenger side and slipping in before anyone notices. He drives off quickly, not taking any time to say hello before he’s taking off out of the town and towards the rolling countryside.

You drive for a good fifteen minutes, to a spot the two of you frequent on your drives. It’s a dirt track, leading to nothing but fields for miles on end. Declan pulls the car around the bend and out of sight from the busier road, knowing that it has more than enough privacy. You’ve never been caught here before, and you don’t plan to start.

Finally turning off the engine, he turns to face you, taking in how the moonlight illuminates your features in the lowlight of the car.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

You’re refusing to look at him, knowing that if you do, you’ll surge over and kiss him until you’re both dizzy. You can feel his gaze on you, though, intense and unwavering. As it always is.

His thumb and pointer finger hook under your chin, forcing you to stare straight into his determined brown eyes. You’re willing yourself not to crumble, but you can feel your resolve starting to slip already.

“I missed you,” he whispers, careful not to spook you.

“I missed you too,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Shit.”

He chuckles, and the low timbre of it settles right in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s all this about then, hmm? The phone call?”

“What did you tell Taggie? Where did you say you were going?”

It’s your least favourite part about all of this, the lying. Lying to Taggie, to Patrick, to Caitlin, to Rupert, to your friends, to your family. Coming up with excuses has become second nature - something you hate about yourself now. You hate how it comes so naturally to both of you these days.

“Told her I was going to meet someone about some potential research for a show. She had evening plans anyway, she’s off out to Lizzie’s.”

You’re fiddling with your fingers, picking at your nails in a nervous habit as you chew your bottom lip. If anxiety was personified, it’d be you.

“You avoided my question. We need to talk about what you said on the phone, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your seat to face him properly, going over the speech you’ve practised in your head dozens of times.

“Okay. I’m… I’m not sure we should do this anymore. I- I just… I feel guilty. For lying to Taggie, mainly. And because you’re technically still married, but mainly for lying to Tag. She’s the closest friend I have, and I’m sleeping with her father. It makes me a terrible person, Declan. I have to put a stop to it.”

He processes your words for a moment, looking at you intently.

“Do ya want to?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to? Put a stop to things? Or do you just feel like you should? For other people.”

You want to lie, tell him exactly what you had planned out, feed him what you know will work. But you can’t. You can lie to everyone… except Declan.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “But I should. We should.”

“Why now? Did something happen? Did someone say something?”

“No, no. I just… Taggie said something really sweet the other day about how she was glad that she had me, because making friends here hasn’t been easy for her. And it should have made me happy, and instead, it broke my heart.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Declan cradles your face in his rough hands, resting his forehead against yours. It’s like the whole world melts away for a moment, leaving just the two of you in the tiny yellow car.

“I’m a horrible person,” you mumble. “And a horrible friend.”

“You’re speaking as if it’s just you. And it’s not, you know. There’s two of us in this affair - I’m just as guilty as you are.”

“Fine then. We’re both horrible people.”

He chuckles, breath tickling your face, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. His lips are brushing yours every time he speaks, meaning you can practically taste the cigarette smoke and spearmint on his tongue.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he retorts, still smiling.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit as his thumbs sweep back and forth across your cheekbones. “It’s weighing down my conscience, and I don’t want to hurt Tag. But… I can’t give you up, Declan. I need you. I need you more than anything.”

“You make me crazy. God, I think about you night and day, sweetheart. My thoughts revolve around if I’ve seen you and when I’m going to see you next.”

“So what do we do? I can’t quit this. I can’t quit you, I can’t quit us. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. I wish I had the answers… I wish I could make all your worries go away. But I can’t.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just… I thought that I could do it in one clean sweep. Get it out the way, you know? Call you, end things, be done. And then the minute I heard your voice over the phone… I knew I couldn’t do it. Because deep down, I didn’t want to.”

He leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, desperate to be close to you.

“Declan.”

“If I could fix it all for you, I would,” he murmurs against your skin. “You know I would.”

You pull back to put some distance in between you, watching him carefully for his reaction to what you say next.

“You should break things off.”

He flinches as if you’ve punched him in the stomach.

“What?”

“You should. I clearly can’t, so you have to be the one to do it. Do it, Declan. End things with me right here, right now. Please.”

Your tone is weak and unconvincing, as if you can’t even bring yourself to say the words with any conviction.

“I can’t,” he confesses, voice breaking on the last word. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling it slowly as if he’s buying himself some time. You wait patiently for him to continue, nerves frayed at the edges.

“Because I love you.”

Now it’s your turn to flinch, his admission smacking you across the face violently.

“You-”

“Yes. I love you, sweetheart. It’s taken me a while to figure all of this out, but I know it now. That’s why I’ve never been able to end this. Because it’s not just incredible sex… it’s something more. Something real.”

There are tears welling in your eyes as you look at him, watching the way he lays his heart on his sleeve in the moonlight just for you.

“I’m scared,” you confess. “I love you too and it scares me.”

You don’t miss the way his face lights up as you say it, but he’s trying to keep a careful lid on his emotions for now.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to ya. You know that.”

All you can do is nod in response, digesting everything that has happened in the last five minutes. You do know that. He’s proven time and time again that you’re not just some fleeting fling to him.

“Declan?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Now he grins like an idiot, eyes alive with adrenaline and hope.

“That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard ya say.”

You tuck some hair behind his ear before leaning in to gently press your lips to his, wanting to seal the moment. He kisses you back sweetly at first, before taking control with more force, slipping his tongue into your mouth cheekily. You happily let him take the lead, sighing in contentment as you melt into him.

“C’mere.”

Climbing over onto his lap, you hinge your legs on either side of his in the drivers seat, straddling his hips. You try to straighten up but end up hitting your head on the roof of the car, which makes you both wheeze with laughter.

“This car is too fucking small,” you grumble, rubbing the spot that you smacked.

“Y’alright? Want me to kiss it better?”

You hate the way the teasing tone in his voice shoots right to your core, shaking your head in defiance.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Patronising bastard.”

“I like it when you get your claws out,” he chuckles, tracing patterns on your thighs over your jeans. “S’hot.”

You kiss him again to shut him up, biting at his bottom lip in punishment. He groans all low and slow, which makes you grind your hips into his, despite the multiple layers of clothing separating you.

“Backseat,” he whispers, pushing you off of him gently. “More room.”

You splay yourself across the wide back seat, opening your legs so Declan can slot in between them.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” he prompts as he shrugs off his own jacket and undoes his belt.

You can’t help but chuckle at his impatience, happily taking off your coat and jumper and unbuttoning your jeans. Your breath catches in your throat when you look back up at him - he’s wearing the Venturer t shirt that hugs his biceps just right, accentuating every delicious muscle he has to offer you.

“Wore it for you,” he mutters against your lips. “Know you like me in a t shirt.”

You roll your eyes but kiss him with determination anyway, all teeth and tongue and clashing bodies. You’re clawing at his clothed shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist to buck your hips into his.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “Lying awake at night thinking about your thighs, your tits, your cunt.”

All you can do is sigh, fingers digging into his biceps in desperation.

“Wish I could take my time with you like you deserve. These quick fucks just aren’t the same.”

He sounds almost upset about it, voice staying deep and low.

“Remember that time I stayed the night? And you couldn’t walk in the morning?”

You laugh breathily, thinking back fondly to that night a few months ago. You’d both orchestrated it so carefully, crafting cautious lies and fabricated stories to snatch a good sixteen hours of time together.

“Need that again soon. Might have to start sneaking ya into my house in the dark, make you climb the gutters like we’re in a film. Although, it is a bit hard to keep you quiet.”

You try valiantly to ignore the heat that flushes across your chest as he teases you, knowing that he’s right.

“Declan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You grab his hand and shove it down your underwear, jeans trapped around your thighs. There’s very minimal room in this tiny car, but you’re both determined to make it work. He groans when he feels how wet you are, swiping through your core.

“Fuck me. Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Since this afternoon,” you whimper, trying to grind down onto his fingers. “Couldn’t stop thinking about when you ate me out on my kitchen worktop last week. My legs were shaking for two days afterwards.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, slipping a finger into you as he drops his head onto your shoulder. “I got myself off thinking about that yesterday. I swear if I concentrate, I can still taste you on my tongue.”

All you can do is whimper, desperate to have him in any way you can. The fact that you have the same effect on him that he does on you makes your head spin, dizzy with want.

“Don’t make me wait,” you beg, cradling his face so he has to look you in the eye. “Fuck me, please. Please, Declan.”

“Okay, pretty girl. I’ll give ya anything you want. Anything.”

He shuffles around so he’s sat back on his knees, pushing his jeans and underwear down just enough to free himself. You spread your legs as wide as you can, trying to give him as much room as possible. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself in this position in this car with him - and it won’t be the last.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, licking across your teeth with his tongue. “Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

He slides into you with ease, both of you gasping at the familiar sensation. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he holds your hips in a bruising grip, pads of his fingertips biting into your flesh.

Declan doesn’t waste any time, setting a relentless pace that has you bouncing across the seat. The car is shaking like crazy, all the windows fogged up - anyone who passes will know exactly what’s happening inside.

The man above you can read you like a book and play you like a fiddle. He knows the exact angles of his hips that’ll have you keening, the certain spots to focus on that’ll have you seeing stars. He knows you better than anyone, in more ways than one.

“That’s it,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Atta girl. Taking it like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was,” you breathe, tipping your head back to give him access to your neck. “Just for you.”

He groans all melted and golden like molten honey, the vibrato of it rumbling through your bones. You’re holding onto him for dear life, as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this reality. When his thumb finds your clit to rub firm, slow circles, you’re convinced you’re floating on another plane of existence.

The only word you can seem to formulate is Declan, which only pushes him closer to the finish line. He’s determined to get you there first, angling his hips upward to hit that one spot that has you gasping. When he moves one hand to your throat and gently squeezes, you fall apart instantly, taking him with you.

“I love you,” he breathes as he comes, forehead resting on yours. “My girl.”

You’re shuddering and shaking as you lie underneath him, panting like you’ve just ran ten miles. Declan collapses on top of you, laying his head on your chest comfortably. Your fingers rake through his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp like you’ve done so many times before.

You both allow yourselves to close your eyes for a minute, recovering and attempting to catch your breath. You’re convinced, for a moment, that you’ll never feel more peaceful than you do right now. You breathe each other in, satiated and content.

You finally open your eyes, expecting to see nothing but fogged windows and starlit darkness. Instead, you see a man bending down, looking straight at you. Arguably the worst possible person that could see the two of you in the position you’re in.

Rupert Campbell Black.

He’s grinning like an idiot, shaking his head in disbelief.

You’re about to warn the man in your arms when Rupert opens the car door, slipping himself into the drivers seat and spinning so he’s facing you. Declan has jumped out of his skin, jolting upwards to cover you as best he can.

Rupert smirks all dirty and knowing, eyes dancing over your half naked forms.

“Well, well, well. Secrets out, lovers.”

@graceflorence @dionysus-drabbles

as aaaaaaaalways… reblogs are golden!! they’re the currency of tumblr, my loves. you reblog, and your favourite writers will write you more fics. simple as that. mwah. <3

2K notes · View notes

dannyriccsystem · 2 months ago

Note

hear me out:

threesome with paul and ollie

🚂🚃🚃

ONE, TWO, THREE, NOT ONLY YOU AND ME!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

SUMMARY: Paul and Ollie get a little tipsy and can’t seem to keep their hands off you. Or each other, for that matter.

WORD COUNT: 1.3K

WARNINGS: Threesome (again), drunk sex (reader is sober), sexual tension between Paul and Ollie, guys kissing warning, P in V, reader is AFAB, double penetration, breeding kink if you squint, double creampie? so many warnings i’m sorry. warning for so many warnings. warning for apologizing

FEATURING: Paul Aron x Reader x Oliver Bearman

NOTE: I’M HEARING YOU OUT 🚂🚃🚃 ANON. Also Paul’s arms in that picture… 🤤

YOU HAD NEVER SEEN YOUR FRIENDS LIKE THIS BEFORE. It was almost… Disturbing to watch? It all started with your very own birthday. Paul and Ollie, your two closest friends, came over to wish you a happy day and share some drinks with you, and watch movies. Overall, a good night. However, as you were seated upon your couch with a glass of wine in hand, which has gone completely untouched, you start to hear laughter on the other side of you. You pry your eyes away from the movie to peek at them, watching them giggle and tease each other like school children.

They weren’t shitfaced, just slightly tipsy. So you had to wonder how long they had been thinking about this to finally act on it with only a few beers in their system. You rolled your eyes, placing both hands on either of their chests and pushing them apart. “Hey, jackasses! No kissing on my birthday.”

“Ew, gross,” Ollie slurred slightly, shaking his head. “No way!”

“Yeah,” Paul agreed, some of his current drink sloshing onto your couch. You groaned and step back, searching the room for a towel. “We’re just joking, relax.”

You sigh and grab a nearby napkin from dinner and opt to use that to clean up Paul’s little mess. Your hand instinctively travels to his lap where he happened to spill, gently dabbing the droplets of alcohol away. He’s gone deathly still in the meantime, his cheeks puffed out while he holds his breath. “Hey, look. It’s legal, I don’t mind, just don’t do it in front of me.”

“Y/N you’re gross,” Ollie laughed, lightly smacking your arm. You shift, your hand brushing against Paul’s crotch. His breath hitches, and he shifts softly.

“Hey! Don’t hit me, it’s my birthday.” You smacked him back, and then he retaliated like a cat by tapping your arm. You turned to Paul, and when you found his frozen, paled face, you paused. “Hey, everything okay?”

He swallowed thickly. You watched his Adam's apple bob, and then he nodded. You weren’t entirely convinced, but you decided to let it slide this once.

“You guys are making a mess.” You comment. Ollie shifts, slightly nudging Paul’s shoulder, causing him to spill once more. Again, on his lap. “Really?”

“Really.” Ollie replied with a cheeky, cat-like grin.

You stormed off to the kitchen to grab a proper towel this time, and when you came back, they went completely silent again. You were suspicious—it seemed like they were talking about you. You held the towel out for Paul, but Ollie suddenly grabbed your wrist and guided it down to the other man’s lap, making the poor guy flinch.

“N-No!” He stumbled over his words, yanking the towel out of your hands to do it himself. You raised a brow, but shrugged it off.

Just as you moved to walk away, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your hip, pulling you down. You fell back against Ollie’s broad chest, his lips right against your ear as he nuzzled his way closer.

“Y/N…” He whined out, his voice slurred. Paul was watching with wide, hungry eyes. “I want you to touch me too…”

“What?!” You shrieked, freezing in place. Ollie placed sloppy kisses to the back of your neck, his hands moving back to travel along your sides. He tugged at the hem of your shirt, but made no further moves. He was waiting for permission. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Can we share you?” Paul blurted out, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly chapped lips. His throat felt dry, and his hands felt clammy. They both seemed to pause as if they were waiting for your response.

You blinked, your hips shifting, which caused Ollie to groan. Although it’s shameful to admit, this decision didn’t take a lot of thought. “Yes,” you muttered quietly, your cheeks warm with shame. Oliver wasted no time sliding his hands up your shirt, yanking it off over your head.

You gasped when Paul dove in, pushing your bra down just beneath your tits to latch onto a nipple, massaging the other with his hand. They were quick with it, like they had it planned… You had to wonder if that’s what they were talking about earlier.

“You’re so hot,” Oliver whispered, turning your head to kiss your lips. You moaned as he pressed his erection into you, moving your hips against his.

Paul whined, and you pulled your lips away to give him a turn. He smiled against you, moving even closer to press his chest to yours. Ollie’s hands snaked down, pulling off your skirt. He rubbed his lanky fingers over your pussy through your panties, collecting some of the dripping arousal on his fingers.

“I bet she’s so tight,” Paul muttered to Ollie, kissing your neck now. Ollie chuckled under his breath, lifting your hips to slide your panties down too. “Think she can take both of us?”

“No way, too small…” Ollie rebutted, his fingers sliding into your hole to test the waters. He curled them, enjoying the way you squirmed in his lap and cried out an incoherent response. “But it doesn’t hurt to try.” He moved your hair aside to kiss your neck right behind your ear. “You want that, sweetheart? Two cocks inside you?”

You were too busy riding his thick fingers to really think straight. You nodded weakly, choking on your own sounds already. Just as your orgasm began to form, he slipped his fingers out with a ‘pop!’ leaving you hopeless.

They both fumbled with their belts and zippers while you tried to catch your breath, your hole already clenching just at what was about to come. Ollie slid in first, kissing your neck to ease the initial sting. He was long and skinny, hitting your deepest points. When you looked down to Paul’s cock, your eyes widened. He was girthy with a decent length—the mirror opposite of Oliver’s.

Ollie grabbed your hand, guiding your small fingers to the other man’s length, moving your hand up and down. “Gotta get it nice and wet so it can slide right in,” He whispered, his big hand covering yours. Paul groaned, his cock twitching and veins pulsing.

Ollie pulled your hands away, letting Paul fill you up right alongside him. Your walls stretched around them both, making room for their respective lengths. You squeezed Ollie’s arms for support.

They both erupted into soft whines, incomprehensible words flying from their lips. Your ears were already ringing from pleasure, your legs quivering as they were pushed even further apart. “I can feel your cock r-… Rubbing against mine,” Paul muttered shyly, hunching himself over your body. Ollie caught his lips in a kiss, the two of them pounding into you while they shared a soft peck.

It was way hotter than you expected it to be.

Their little pecks turned into full blown making out, tongues sliding and everything. You could feel them fighting over your pussy from within. The room was filled with squelching, moans, and the smacks of kisses.

Eventually they pulled away, and Paul kissed you again while Ollie sucked at your neck like a damn vampire, leaving behind deep purple marks.

“Want us to come inside?” Ollie whispered in a soft groan, his teeth nipping at your ear. You nodded, and Paul gave a week, stuttered chuckle.

“Yeah? You want… Want us to fill you up for your birthday?”

“Yes!” You squealed, having already met your climax multiple times now. They grinned nearly simultaneously, each of them gripping you as they released one after the other, filling you up.

Paul pulled out first, letting the cum gush out of you right before Ollie followed. You fell back into his arms, panting to catch your breath.

“Told you she could handle it,” Paul commented as your consciousness slowly began to fade.

“Guess you were right.”

566 notes · View notes

celesteleoves · 1 year ago

Note

hello! could you please do an izuku fluff one shot where he loves to sleep with reader in her dorm? i use she/her pronouns but gender neutral would be fine aswell if you’d prefer💓

“I LOOK BETTER IN THE DARK.”

IZUKU MIDORIYA x fem!reader.

summary: what the request said!

warnings: reader and izuku have known each other since middle school, izuku being traumatized 😔, set before the second war!fluff otherwise i believe! kinda angsty for a minute.

a/n: guys… i miss him. he’s so sweet pls don’t hurt him anymore horikoshi. also ily anon ty for requesting this omg. pls send more 🤍

—

it wasn’t uncommon for your boyfriend to randomly show up at your dorm. normally, he would arrive approximately ten minutes after texting you that he was going to try to take a nap.

but, you knew your boyfriend and you knew he would arrive with his hair tussled and eyes wide and disappointed – from not being able to sleep on his own. you were used to izuku knocking on your dorm room at random hours, you’ve even grown accustomed to this routine.

currently, you’re sat by your door. playing with your matching all might keychain that izuku got you for your birthday when you were young.

knock, smack! knock.

you smiled at the noise, you made that knocking pattern up after one time while trying to knock on your door barely awake, izuku fell asleep and smacked his head off of your door then clumsily tried to knock to cover up the embarrassment he felt in that moment.

you stood up, rushing to your door. a soft smile already on your face.

“hi. i-” izuku tried to defend himself, yet again, he forgets that you are used to this.

“you couldn’t sleep, i know.” you softly nodded and motioned for him to come in.

he smiled crookedly as he rubbed the back of his head, trudging toward your bed and flopping on it.

it was late, around 9 pm, the moonlight replacing the suns glare.

you stood by the door for a minute, admiring your boyfriend.

he laid with one of his hands behind his head lazily, the other hand playing with your all might keychain. he looked so cute. his lips were turned upwards at the sight of the keychain.

the moonlight made his freckles pop, his dark-green hair looking more abnormally fluffier than usual.

you moved towards your boyfriend, plopping down beside him and lifting the covers over you two.

for some reason, your boyfriend just looked so ethereal during calm moments like this. just you two. no fighting for your lives or breaking bones. just peacefulness.

“i think i look better in the dark.” izuku mumbled quietly as he noticed your staring, he turned to look at you. his expression was shy and you felt your heart swoon.

you quietly chucked, “you always look good, izu.” you softly whispered as he became flustered. the boy curled up against you as he moved to rest his head on your chest.

tuffs of hair tickled your chin, causing you to giggle slightly as you played with his shirt. he wore a shirt that you gifted him at the start of the year, to celebrate him getting into U.A. with you.

“what happened to napping in your own room today?” you teased, not noticing your boyfriend moving his hand so it was closer to yours.

“i had a nightmare.”

your teasing smile dropped, you should’ve known. izuku’s been having terrors constantly after the first war. it was miracle when you and your classmates had even convinced him to come back to U.A. and rest.

“sorry, they just don’t happen when i’m with you.” he said quietly after noticing your silence, his words slightly muffled into your chest as you kissed his head.

“i’m glad they don’t.” you looked down, noticing his hand beside yours, he has been awkwardly fiddling with the sheets this whole time. he was scared to hold your hand. he didn’t want to hurt you.

you softly sighed, interlocking your fingers with his. you knew he felt safe when people held his hands. izuku began drifting into a slumber, the feeling of you holding his hand comforting him.

“i love you.”

you looked down at him, expecting him to reply only to see his eyes shut, mouth opened slightly as he slept. you felt your own eyes close as you basked in the feeling of holding your lover.

izuku midoriya is one of the strongest people on earth right now but when he’s with you, he’s just your izuku. just a kid who deserves a break from society and a well rested sleep.

a/n: my baby. THIS WAS A LITTLE OFF TRACK and very short, i’m sorry anon i got a little carried away 😔😔 i hope you enjoyed this! 🫶

SEND REQUESTS! 🤍

4K notes · View notes

ce1estiall · 11 days ago

Text

one spark

summary dallas!paige x fem!reader spending the fourth with paige and her family. inspired by this request. masterlist.

warnings drinking, kissing, fluff

celestial notes hi guys! enjoy this fic requested by an anon. also, taste of love ch 3 will be out this week, on my LIFE. if not, i allow yall to call me out on my bs, okay bye byeee

“‘cause my heart is burning

so good that it’s hurting

how do you make the pain so perfect? my favorite person

it’s our golden days.” twice - one spark

the smell of barbecue filled the outside. hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, toasting by the minute. the sky was clear as day, as the hot wind blew against you hair. paige flew back home for the week during the offseason, visiting her parents in minnesota. her mom had the idea to have a barbecue for the 4th of july, and of course she wanted you to come. so you flew from dallas to minnesota, going to see her family after not seeing them in a while. you walked inside paige’s family’s house, not needing to knock since her mother basically accepted you as a second daughter, plus you had a key.

paige’s mom’s face grew as she saw you. “hi baby! how are you?” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug, giving you a hug and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“i’m good!” you replied. “just bought some beers for everyone, my treat. where’s paige?”

“i can take these off your hands.” she said, grabbing the case and putting them on the kitchen counter. “she’s outside.”

outside? you thought. you opened the patio door to see paige standing next to her dad at the grill, attempting to teach her how to barbecue meat. the pool glistened, reflecting from the sun that almost blinded you. you walked over to the gazebo to greet her dad and your girlfriend. “hey honey! how are you?” paige’s dad asked, giving you a hug as well. “i’ve been well, how are you?”

he sighed. “good, trying to teach this one how do have an official barbecue.” paige’s face turn red from embarrassment.

“hey baby.” paige spoke in a low tone, kissing your lips and giving you a hug that made your body spark. paige’s dad gave her a look that told her he was leaving, she nodded.

“so, trying to become gordon ramsey i see?” you said, leaning against the countertop. “bro shut up!” she laughed. “trying to learn something new for when we go back home. maybe i’ll make you something one day out of the blue.”

“you gonna swim?” you asked, eyeing the pool. “there’s a mini heat wave today.”

paige lifted the lid to the grill, grabbing the tongs and flipping the hot links. “i’ll go if you go.” paige smirked.

you wrapped your arms around her neck as you stood behind her, getting a smell of her cologne. “hope you brought a swimsuit.” you gave a sweet kiss to her neck.

“just let me finish cooking this ma, then i’m all yours.” she grinned, turning her head to look at you, then closing the hood.

you laughed, releasing your arms around her, jumping back to the countertop. “if this doesn’t taste good p, i’m gonna be pissed.”

paige tilted her head. “you really don’t think i’ll do a good job?”

paige started to walk forward, trapping you on the counter. her hands found yours, interlocking fingers, feeling your skin. “missed you this last week.” she purred. paige let go of yout hand, using her thumb to find your face, guiding you to look at her eyes. the eyes you could get lost in the moment from.

“touch deprived?” you teased, shooting a glance. she gave you a smirk and placed a soft kiss on your lips, moving down to your jaw and your neck. it felt higher than electricity. “missed my girl.” you both smiled, as your hand found her cheek, then pinching it.

paige then turned to the grill and placed all the meats on plates. hot dogs and hot links on one, burgers on a separate one, and ribs on another. you noticed her starting to struggle from carrying all 3 plates in her arms. “need help p?” you asked.

“i got it, ma. just come inside so we can eat.” paige shouted, hopefully loud enough for you to hear.

paige opened the patio door and placed the plates on the counter. “food’s ready!” she yelled. you grabbed the condiments from the fridge, hot dogs and hamburger buns as well.

paige pulled your chair out for you as you started to aim towards the hot links. “why thank you baby.” you exclaimed.

“anything for my girl.” paige then sat down across from you. she grabbed a hamburger bun and the jar of mayonnaise, spreading it across the bread. both her mom and dad sat down and grabbed their plates and buns.

you fixed your meal and took a bite. the smoky flavor satisfied your craving, and the sausage was cooked perfectly. you nodded in satisfaction as you continued eating your meal. “this is really good paige, good job.”

“so if my girl approves it, i think it would be family approved as well.” paige said, looking up from the table.

paige’s dad took a bite. “i taught you well paige.” he ate his whole hot dog, savoring every bite like it was his last meal.

her mom was speechless, it was that good. you got up from the table and grabbed the case of beer you bought. you brought it to the table and took one out, opening it with your teeth.

“impressive babe.” paige said in awe. the rest of the family grabbed a beer as well. “salud or cheers to this family gathering!”

“cheers!” everyone said. the beer bottles all clancked together in the middle. paige gave you a wink before drinking, which made a small smile appear. you took a sip, feeling refreshed.

“race you to the pool?” paige asked in competition.

you took off your summer dress, showing your bikini underneath. “you’re on bueckers.”

paige took off her shirt and jorts, showing her sports bra and nike pros. you both rushed out to the patio and canonballed into the pool, water splashed everywhere. paige somehow found your arms underwater, giggles escaping your mouths when you both came to the surface.

paige found the edge of the pool, leaning on it. she stared at your bikini, eyeing your tan lines peeking through. “give me a warning next time when you wear that so i can control myself.”

you licked your lips. “that’s technically not a swimsuit babe.”

“but you still like it, right?”

you blushed. “exactly.” paige shot back.

you splashed paige with water as it got in her eyes. “oh so it’s like that?” paige exclaimed.

you swam away as far and as fast as you could, hoping to escape her. paige however, was too quick. she grabbed your waist by your arms, lifting you up towards the sky, the proceeded to hold you wedding style, just to dunk your body underwater.

“that’s what you get.” paige shot back. you ran to the corner and pouted, pretending to be mad.

paige nudged your arm. “you really upset?” no response came from you.

her hands ran up your arms, fingers finding the straps of your bikini top, fidgeting with it. “c’mon ma, talk to me.”

you turn to the side, ignoring her and avoiding eye contact, but nope, still nothing.

“i know what will make you forgive me.” paige smirked. her hands found your waist, grabbing them as she pulled you in for a kiss, which felt like your heart was burning. it was genuine, like paige wanted you to know how sorry she was, and how much she loved you through a gesture.

your lips released from hers, a faint pink coated paige’s cheeks. “you forgive me now?” she asked.

“now i do.” you smiled, looking up at her.

paige then had an idea. “i know what we should do.” you gave paige a look, knowing this was one of her intrusive thoughts that could possibly go wrong.

“whoever has the best handstand gets to choose all the shows the rest of the week and gets aux.”

you grinned. “deal, but you’re going first since you’re so confident.”

paige’s hands found the floor of the pool, then swinging her legs up as water splashed on your face. she stayed there for a good 10 seconds. you walked around her and observed. once she brought her legs down, she felt super accomplished. “how’d i do?”

“baby, you don’t wanna know. let the pro handle this.” you kicked your legs up, straightened your arms, legs and back, pointing your toes as well. you came down after paige watched.

“i think i won.” paige exclaimed.

you grimaced. “you didn’t even have your legs centered! you arms weren’t straight either.”

paige rolled her eyes in surrender. “whatever makes you sleep at night, ma. let’s go shower.”

dark shades of blue painted the sky. the moon shined bright as the stars around it twinkled and complimented. you were sitting outside with paige on the doorstep, watching the fireworks as your fingers interlinked once again, gripping as if you would disappear.

the fireworks sparked all different colors. your favorite was pink and paige’s was purple. the view was absolutely stunning. paige turned to look at you instead of the fireworks. “you don’t know how much i miss you, ma.”

your eyes met hers, it was almost like they glowed. “i was just worried about you. i hope you got a good week of rest. then you’re stuck with me for the rest of the offseason.”

she grinned. “i’m not complaining if its with the girl i love forever.” her thumb rubbed warm circles around your knuckles, hands immediately heating up.

“i love you so much paige.”

she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. her eyes falling into your soft, brown eyes. “i love you more, forever.”

more fireworks started to appear, a purple one lighting up into the sky. you leaned into each other, lips meeting each other. gentle, meaningful, as if you were delicate. the firework went off once you heard the boom in front of both of you, lips temporarily separating to smile at each other. she crashed on back to yours, hungrier. her kisses felt like a firework going off inside of you. you were glad you have someone who always made your everlasting spark never die.

#dallas wings #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn womens basketball #wnba #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader

469 notes · View notes

fiastomatocheek · 2 months ago

Text

NO CREEPY GUYS ALLOWED NEAR MY WIFE

pair: dad!will smith x f!reader

genre: domestic fluff, protective dad, subtle angst, romance.

warnings: unwanted flirting (non-graphic), strong emotional themes, overprotective twins, soft husband!will, hockey dad pride, will being hot when he’s mad.

summary: as a dad, will’s always blended into the background at the twins’ games, cap low and presence quiet, it’s a shadow of love instead of a spotlight. but when a stranger crosses a line while will is away for the first time, the twins step up to protect their mom. and when will returns, he realizes it’s time to stop hiding the family he’s so damn proud of.

fia’s notes: the idea originally came from a post on fiakive (me), and after seeing a few anons and moots show interest in the concept of dad!will, i figured that why not write one? so here it is! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed bringing it to life. also in this story, eli’s mom can be a hockey mom in this, but she’s never really been into hockey herself. maybe her husband is the fan, but she’s never been all that interested in the sport.

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @kell9rs @nokiaholland

“Morning, gorgeous,” Will murmured,

“You ready to cheer our boys on without me?”

You turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “I’ll manage. But you owe me for doing this solo, Smith.”

He grinned, that boyish charm still as potent as the day you met.

“Name your price. Dinner out? Back rub? I’m at your mercy.”

You laughed, swatting his chest.

“Let’s start with you not being late for practice again. Coach was not happy last time.”

Will’s face fell, his blue eyes clouding with guilt.

“I hate missing their games. Charles and Theo are gonna be out there, probably pulling moves I taught them, and I’m stuck doing line drills.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing his stubble.

“You’ll be there tomorrow, and they’ll light up when they see you. I’ve got this. I’m their loudest fan today.”

He leaned down, kissing you, the kind of kiss that reminded you why you’d said yes to him all those years ago.

“You’re the best, you know that?” he said, pulling back.

“Tell the boys I’m proud of them, win or lose. And…”

His tone shifted, taking on that serious dad edge he used before every game. “Make sure they remember the rules.”

You nodded, mimicking his stern voice.

“Enjoy the game, have fun, and be brothers on and off the ice. No rough stuff, just clean hockey.”

“Exactly,” he said, but his expression softened.

“And one more thing, tell them to look out for you. Protect Mom when I’m not there.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart warmed. “Will, it’s a middle school rink, not a war zone.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, stealing one last kiss.

“You’re my world, and they’re my boys. Gotta keep you safe.”

“Love you,” you called as he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

“Love you more, babe.” he shot back, winking before the door clicked shut.

At 11, the twins were carbon copies of Will, tall for their age, with his sandy blond hair and blue eyes, though Charles had your smile and Theo had your quiet intensity but still they had a big love for hockey. They stumbled downstairs, already in their hockey mindset, their jerseys draped over chairs, Charles in #2, Theo in #43. Those numbers were Will’s from his USA Hockey days and his time with the Sharks, but the boys thought they were just his ‘weekend game’ numbers from pickup games with friends. You and Will had kept his NHL career under wraps, wanting them to grow up as regular kids, not as ‘Will Smith’s sons.’ or whatever nickname others people would gave them. Privacy was sacred, a shield against the media’s prying eyes.

In the car, the boys were a whirlwind of energy, their gear bags rattling in the trunk. Charles, the chattier one, leaned forward.

“I’m scoring at least two goals today, Mom. Watch.”

Theo, in the back, smirked.

“Only if I don’t block you first. My team’s defense is solid.”

You glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning.

“Okay, hotshots, what’s Dad’s rule?”

Charles groaned, flopping back. “Have fun, play clean, and be brothers on and off ice.”

“And don’t go too hard on each other. Oh and protect Mom when Dad’s not here.” Theo added, his voice softer but firm.

“Good,” you said.

“You’re on different teams, but you’re a team at home. Dad said he’s proud of you, no matter what.”

Charles puffed out his chest, his jersey crinkling.

“We’ve got you, Mom. Nobody’s gonna mess with us.”

“Yeah,” Theo said, his eyes narrowing. “We’re Smiths.”

You laughed, pulling into the school parking lot. The rink was a hive of activity, coaches barking last-minute instructions. The boys hopped out, hoisting their bags like pros.

“Go get ready,” you called. “Put your gear on, lace up, and I’ll meet you inside.”

They waved, disappearing into the crowd of jersey-clad kids. You parked, grabbed your jacket, and headed to the rink, you spotted Charles and Theo already in their warming up position, their names bold on their jerseys with number #2 SMITH and #43 SMITH. They skated with Will’s effortless grace, weaving through cones, firing pucks with precision. Charles flicked a playful shot at Theo, who blocked it with a grin. Just like their Dad, their focus unbreakable.

You found a seat in the front row, close enough to feel the thud of the puck. Lisa, the mom of Eli, Theo’s teammate, slid in beside you, her red scarf bright against the gray bleachers.

“Hey, girl!” she said, nudging you.

“Your boys look like they’re ready to run today game.”

“They’re hyped,” you said, grinning.

“Their dad gave them the full pep talk before he left for practice.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Will’s not here? That’s new. He’s usually glued to the glass, yelling like he’s coaching the Sharks.”

“Yeah, he’s got practice. He’ll be here tomorrow, though. The boys are counting on it.”

The game kicked off with a roar, the puck zipping across the ice. Charles, left wing for the Blue team, was a blur, dodging defenders and rifling a shot that hit the net five minutes in. The crowd erupted, and you leapt up, screaming,

“That’s my Charlie!”

Theo, right wing for the Red team, wasn’t about to let his brother steal the show. He snagged the puck, deked a defender with a move straight out of Will’s playbook, and snapped a wrist shot into the goal. You clapped wildly, your heart swelling.

“Go, Theo Smith! Go!”

Behind you, parents whisper, their voices a mix of awe and curiosity.

“Those Smith boys are unreal,” one dad said.

“That’s not just practice. They’ve got serious talent.”

“Look at that footwork,” a mom added. “Their dad must’ve been a hell of a player.”

Lisa leaned over, her eyes twinkling.

“That’s all Will’s doing, right? He’s got those boys skating like pros.”

You smiled, keeping your answer vague.

“He’s taught them a lot. They’ve been on skates since they were three.”

You never mentioned Will’s NHL career, not even to Lisa, who was as close as you got to a rink-side confidante. It was a promise you and Will made early on to keep the boys out of the spotlight, to let them be kids. The less people knew, the better.

The first half was a showcase of the twins’ skills. Charles threaded a no-look pass to a teammate, who scored. Theo blocked a shot, then set up a goal with a pinpoint assist. They were competitive but never crossing into dirty play, just as Will had drilled into them. You could see their personalities on the ice for Charles’s flair, Theo’s quiet intensity but they respected eachother, even as opponents.

At the break, you grabbed a hot chocolate drink, chatting with Lisa about the team’s playoff chances. That’s when a man approached, his smile a touch too warm. He was tall, with dark hair and a kid’s Blue team jersey slung over his shoulder, his son probably one of Charles’s teammates. His name tag read ‘Joseph.’

“Hey, you’re Charles and Theo’s mom, right?” he said, offering a handshake.

“I’m Joseph. My son, Max, plays with Charles.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand out of courtesy.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Those boys are incredible out there,” he said, stepping closer.

“You must be so proud. Raising twins on your own must be a lot, though.”

You frowned, caught off guard.

“Oh, I’m not, my husband’s just at work today.”

He either didn’t hear or chose to ignore it.

“Still, you’re doing an amazing job. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime, swap stories about the chaos of hockey parenting.”

His tone was unmistakably flirty, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

You’re already felt the discomfort. You hadn’t worn your wedding rings today, they were at the cleaner, and you’d left your engagement ring at home, worried about losing it in the chaos of the game. Maybe that’s why he’d misread the situation.

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” you said, stepping back.

“I need to get back for the second half.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, but his smile didn’t falter.

“Think about that coffee, though.”

The second half was just as intense, with Charles and Theo trading goals and assists. The game ended in a 3-3 tie, the kids spilling onto the ice in a flurry of high-fives and laughter. You stood, clapping, but your smile faded when you saw Charles and Theo skating toward you, their faces etched with concern.

“Mom, you okay?”

Charles asked, his helmet tucked under his arm, sweat matting his hair.

“That guy was weird,”

Theo said, his voice low and protective. He glared toward the stands, where Joseph was chatting with another parent.

“He was talking to you all funny.”

You forced a smile, not wanting to worry them.

“It’s fine, boys. He was just being friendly. Let’s get your gear off and head home. Dad’s waiting”

They exchanged a look, more of Will’s look, all fierce protectiveness and skated to the locker room. You exhaled, relieved they didn’t push it further. On the drive home, the boys were back to their usual selves, dissecting every play and plotting strategies for tomorrow’s game. They didn’t mention about that guy, so you assumed they’d let it go.

When you pulled into the driveway, Will’s car was in its spot. The boys bolted inside, their gear bags thumping against the doorframe.

“Dad!”

They shouted, tackling Will as he stepped out of the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.

“Whoa, slow down, champs!”

Will laughed, ruffling their hair. He was still in his practice sweats, his face flushed from a hard skate.

“How’d my superstars do?”

Before you could answer, Charles blurted,

“Some guy was talking to Mom, and she looked super uncomfortable.”

Theo nodded, his arms crossed.

“Yeah, he was all smiley and weird. We told him we had to go, and he backed off.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze snapping to you. You saw the jealousy, but it was tempered by humor, his lips twitching into a smirk. He crouched to their level, his voice conspiratorial.

“Is that right? What’d you do, huh? Give me the play-by-play.”

Charles grinned, puffing up.

“We skated over after the game and said we had to leave. He looked like he was gonna run.”

“Good job, boys,” Will said, high-fiving them.

“You gotta protect Mom when I’m not there. No creepy guys allowed near my wife.”

“Will,” you said, rolling your eyes as you kicked off your shoes.

“It was nothing. Can we eat? I’m starving.”

Will stood, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

“Nothing, huh? We’ll talk later,”

He whispered, his tone teasing but with an edge of curiosity.

To the boys, he said, “Go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Dinner was a lively affair, the kitchen table covered in takeout pizza and garlic bread. Charles and Theo recounted every goal, their voices overlapping in excitement.

“Dad, I used that spin move you showed us!” Theo said, waving his slice of pizza.

“The goalie didn’t even see it coming.”

“And I passed like you do in your games,” Charles added, mimicking Will’s wrist flick.

“It was so smooth.”

Will leaned back, his smile wide and proud.

“You guys had fun out there? That’s what matters. I’m so damn proud of you, you know that?”

“Dad, you said ‘damn,’” Theo pointed out, smirking.

Will laughed, holding up his hands.

“Oops. Don’t tell Mom I’m corrupting you.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Too late for that.”

After the boys went to bed, their gear bags neatly stowed for tomorrow, you and Will settled on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand and his arm around you. Will tilted his head, his voice low.

“So, this guy… what’s his deal? Hitting on my wife when I’m not around?”

You sighed, leaning into him.

“His name’s Joseph. He’s a dad on Charles’s team. I didn’t wear my rings today, they’re at the cleaner, and I left my engagement ring at home so I wouldn’t lose it at the rink… he probably thought I was a single mom. I shut it down, but the boys noticed. I feel bad for not wearing something to make it clear.”

Will’s jaw tightened, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“No rings? Babe, that’s like leaving the goal unguarded.” He kissed your temple, his voice softening.

“But seriously, you okay? He didn’t push too hard, did he?”

“No, it was just awkward,” you said.

“I was polite, but he mentioned coffee or something. The boys swooped in before it got weirder.”

Will chuckled, pulling you closer.

“That’s my boys. Got my back. But tomorrow? I’m coming with you, and we’re making sure that whole rink knows you’re mine. Charles and Theo’s mom, my beautiful wife, no question about it.”

You laughed, swatting his chest. “You’re ridiculous, Will Smith.”

“Ridiculous and crazy about you,” he said, kissing you deeply, his hand cradling your face.

“Nobody’s forgetting who you belong to.”

Sunday morning dawned bright and early, the alarm blaring at 6:00 a.m. You groaned, but Will was already up when you shuffled downstairs, wrapping your robe tighter.

Will glanced over, grinning. “Morning, Mrs. Smith. Ready to show that rink who’s boss?”

“You’re way too chipper for this hour,” you muttered, but you smiled, grabbing a coffee.

Will was in full dad mode, checking the boys’ gear with the precision of an NHL veteran. He sharpened Theo’s skates, tested Charles’s stick tape, and packed their water bottles with the same care he put into his own pre-game routine.

“Can’t have dull blades or sticky tape,” he said, more to himself than you.

You woke the boys, who stumbled down, rubbing their eyes but lighting up when they saw Will in his Sharks cap and hoodie.

“Dad’s coming!” Charles cheered, fist-bumping Theo.

“Gonna yell louder than Mom?” Theo teased, dodging Charles’s playful shove.

After a quick breakfast, Will drove, his hand resting on your thigh as the boys chattered in the back. At the school, you spotted Joseph near the entrance, talking to another parent. Theo nudged Charles.

“That’s the guy from yesterday.”

Charles nodded, his eyes narrowing. “The one who made Mom look all weird.”

Will’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he kept his cool, his jaw set.

“Don’t worry, boys. I’ve got this.”

Inside the rink, Will claimed a front-row seat by the glass, pulling you close and kissing your cheek for good measure.

“Gonna make sure everyone sees us,”

He whispered, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. You noticed Joseph a few rows back, his expression unreadable.

Will turned, his smile polite but razor-sharp.

“Hey, man, didn’t get to meet you yesterday. I’m Will, her husband. Play for the Sharks. Had practice yesterday, so she was flying solo. You a big hockey fan?”

Joseph’s face went white, and he stammered,

“Uh, yeah, I, uh, my son plays. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,”

Will said, his tone friendly but with an edge that said, Back off. He turned back to the ice, his arm around you, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

The game was a thriller. Will was on his feet the whole time, banging on the glass and shouting.

“Nice hustle, Charles! Keep your stick down, Theo!”

When Charles scored with a slick backhand, Will roared, “That’s my boy!” Theo answered with a goal, his shot a carbon copy of Will’s, and Will high-fived you, grinning like a kid.

Theo’s Red team won 2-1, but Charles skated over to hug his brother, their helmets clinking. After the game, kids swarmed Will, recognizing him from Sharks games on TV.

“Mr. Smith, can you sign my stick?”

One boy asked. Another shoved a phone at him for a selfie. Will obliged, his arm around you the whole time, while Charles and Theo stood nearby, confused.

“Dad, why do they know you?” Theo asked, his brow furrowed.

Lisa, Eli’s mom, laughed as she approached.

“No wonder your boys are so good. They’ve got an NHL dad coaching them at home.”

You and Will exchanged a look. It was time. That night, over pizza and root beer, Will sat the boys down.

“Guys, I play hockey for a job. That’s why I’m at practice a lot, why I travel for games. I’m with the San Jose Sharks.”

Charles’s eyes widened. “Like, the real Sharks? On TV?”

“Yup,” Will said, grinning.

“But you two? You’re already better than me. Got your mom’s heart and my moves.”

Theo smirked. “Cool. But we’re still gonna beat you in the backyard rink.”

Will laughed, pulling you into his side.

“That’s my boys. Now, who’s up for ice cream?”

As you watched them bicker over chocolate versus vanilla, you leaned into Will, his warmth your anchor. He was the best dad, the best husband, and your boys were growing up just like him, protective, passionate, with ice in their veins and love in their hearts. On the rink and off, they were yours, and you wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

#will smith #will smith imagine #will smith x you #will smith angst #will smith imagines #will smith nhl #will smith fic #will smith fluff #will smith x reader #will smith hockey #will smith x y/n #will smith hockey imagine #will smith hockey imagines #will smith hockey x reader #will smith hockey x you #dad!will smith #dad!will smith x you #dad!will smith hockey x reader

734 notes · View notes