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juleswritesstuff · 4 months ago

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Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?

You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.

regulus black x fem!reader

warnings: smut

“If you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/n”

His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed. You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.

“Pardon ?” your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.

“My hands” he explains, his tone as neutral as ever “You were staring”

Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.

“I was doing no such thing” you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.

Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips.

It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.

“Ok, fine” you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever “I was looking at your hands”

Regulus’ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

“More like ogling, I would say” even his tone has a playful bite to it.

You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.

But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.

“I wasn't ogling” you grumble, rolling your eyes “I was just admiring them”

His eyebrows furrow.

“Why ?” he seems intrigued as the question leaves his lips.

Why, he has the courage to ask.

Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.

They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you.

They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.

His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.

And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-

“You’re doing it again” his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.

“You have nice hands, that’s all” you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. “From an artist point of view, obviously” you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.

You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.

Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.

Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.

But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesn’t have you all figured out.

“So you’re saying that your interest is purely artistic ?” he cocks a brow as his head tilts slightly.

There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that you can’t quite figure.

Your forehead scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, of course” you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.

You are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesn’t engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others.

So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isn’t gonna finish itself.

This is new, unexpected.

Interesting.

“Would you like to draw them ?”

Your eyes go wide in surprise.

Wait.

What ?

Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you.

He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.

You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he would’ve never accepted even if you did.

That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.

But why the sudden proposition ?

You aren’t stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all.

Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.

But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.

“I can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,” he says, calm and composed as ever.

He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.

He is beautiful. Dangerously so.

“It’s just-” you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued “You have never asked me before”

“I know”

That’s his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic.

Just like him.

“So why now ?”

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.

“Why not ?” he shrugs “There is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?”

There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You don’t know what it is, you don’t think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and it’s strong.

“I’ll get my supplies then”

You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.

When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.

“Figured we might need the space” he says, like he read your mind.

“Thank you”, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.

“Where do you need me ?”

The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.

You need to get a grip, for Merlin’s sake.

“Right there is fine,” you're able to say without your voice faltering “just angle your hands towards me, so the light is right”

He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins in full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.

“That’s good” your mouth is suddenly dry as you gulp at that sight.

He is a bit far, and the light doesn’t hit as perfectly as you had expected, but you’ll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to maintain your mental sanity then so be it.

Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.

You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.

“You’re straining your eyes” he blurts out of the blue. And it’s not a question.

Observant as always.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper “this distance is good for perspective”

“But it’s a problem for the lighting”

Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.

How does he-

“And what would you know about the lighting ?” you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.

“I guess all your rambles about that muggle painter weren’t in vain” he says, and there’s a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you “Caravaggio, right ?”

Your grin turns into a full smile.

“Right,” you nod, your eyes widening a little “I can’t believe you actually remember”

“I remember a lot of things,” he remarks defensively.

“Only those important enough to you” the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.

There’s a beat of silence.

One second. Two. Three. And then-

“Exactly”

Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.

Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.

The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash.

He doesn’t give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again.

“I can come closer if you need me to” his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something he’s had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.

You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and it’s confusing the shit out of you.

You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire.

The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.

So you cave.

“You can,” you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger “if you want to”

His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.

It’s compelling, hypnotizing even.

“This is not about what I want, Y/n”

Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied.

Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows.

He knows.

“We're not talking about art anymore, are we ?” you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Were we ever talking about that in the first place ?” his question is rhetorical. He doesn’t need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.

So what was the point in pretending anymore ?

“No,” you admit “I guess we weren't” your trembling hands move the paper out of the way.

There is a spark in his eyes. It’s foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.

Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“So tell me” he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.

It’s his eyes that betray him.

They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth even did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

They are hungry.

“Tell you what ?” you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You can’t breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.

He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.

“What you want” the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.

“You seem to know what I want” you murmur breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity.

Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams you’ve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes.

You are about to fucking combust.

His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.

“I won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/n”

Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.

You can’t take it anymore.

You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.

His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

He is restraining himself. From touching you.

Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.

“Do it” your voice is so weak and breathy it’s a miracle he hears you.

“Do what ?” he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.

You’re needy, desperate even, but you don’t care. You don’t have time to think right now. You want to feel.

“Touch me” you beg.

“Where ?” he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.

“Everywhere”

It’s nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake.

You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.

His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.

You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.

The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.

Oh, it’s just as delicious as you imagined.

“Ah- fuck” you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy.

You feel like you’re dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.

But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore.

Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.

“Sit” It feels more like a plea than an order but-

Holy shit.

A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddle him completely.

“Fucking finally” he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.

“I have never seen you like this” you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.

He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.

“It seems you were busy looking at something else”

His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.

But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.

“Want me to stop ?” his eyes search for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.

“Don’t you even dare” you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.

It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.

His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.

He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.

The silent ‘Can I ?’ written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.

You nod your head.

“I need words, chérie” he whispers sensually.

The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.

“Yes” you practically beg.

Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.

“Shit-” you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.

You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.

“Jesus Christ” hs hisses a groan “you’re soaked”

A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“Fuck- Reg” a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.

“Look at you, all horny and needy over my hands” his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.

“Please” you breathe. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.

But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.

Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.

You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.

And it’s when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.

“Regulus-” it’s the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.

You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.

“Is this what you fantasized about, love ?” he pants right on your lips “All the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?”

His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry.

“Ohmygodyes” you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“But this is not the only fantasy you have, right chérie ?” he teases, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.

His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.

“I bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?”

You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.

It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.

“Yes” it’s nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.

His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.

You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth before enveloping it wholly.

“Bloody fucking hell, Y/n” he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.

The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.

“Reg, fuck, I'm-”

You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his.

Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.

It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.

The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.

He is a mess.

The hottest mess you have ever seen.

You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.

“You're loud” he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.

“You're filthy” you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained.

“Maybe. But I don’t think I'm the only one”

The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.

He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.

The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.

“Sale fille” he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)

It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.

His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.

“You're sweet” his voice is nothing more than a whisper as his teeth nibble at your lower lip gently.

“Want me to find out if you're sweet, too ?” You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.

“Eager, are we ?” he teases playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “Not today, chérie”

The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment.

“Why ?” you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.

“As I told you, this is not about what I want” he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug “and I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty late”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.

Your eyes widen.

“How long have we been here for ?” your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.

“I'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right now” he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.

“Which might be for the best,” he adds.

“Why ?” you ask in genuine confusion.

“Because I’m the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little sounds” he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.

Thank you for reading 💖

1K notes · View notes

coldfanbou · 21 days ago

Text

Kinkcember Day 11: Stepcest (once more)

Welcome to day 11 where we return to stepcest with a little bonus. Anyway, some of you may ask why we're doing this kink again. It's fully because I get a lot of similar requests from y'all, so I decided I would choose at max 2 fics of the same kink. It's the way I like to do things.

Length 2K

Swan x Mreader

There was a knock on your door; you sighed, wanting just five minutes of peace. Since you’d got home, you had received none of that. Instead, your parents left you in charge of your stepsister Swan when you wanted to go out with friends. It wasn’t often that you came home after all.

You open the door, “What do you want?” you ask, turning your head to look at your TV.

“Can you drive me to my friend’s Halloween party?” You turn your head back to Swan and notice her outfit, a black bunny suit that left little to the imagination. Her breasts bulged out, nearly spilling out of the top, and the high cut of the suit showed off her thick legs.

You consider your options, your mind filled with thoughts of Swan going to a party dressed like that. Without a doubt, she was trying to get attention; it was how she had always been since you met her. Swan notices your staring; the cogs in her mind begin to turn as she moves her eyes up and down your body and sees your growing bulge. “I can make it worth your while.” She says, placing her hands under her arms and raising her breasts. The smirk on her face tells you how confident she is you’ll agree. Having only known each other for a few years, you never really developed a strong sense of family. Still, you knew it would be wrong to accept. “C’mon, you’ve always liked staring at them, and here I am offering them to you.” Swan tugs at the top of her bunny suit, making it flop over, revealing her bare breasts to you. As the only barrier holding them back falls, they drop, jiggling as they come to a stop. You stare at them; they are massive, Swan’s tits are topped with light brown nubs. She reached for them, rolling them between her fingers as she waited for your answer.

“Alright, fine. Come in.” You tell her. Swan smiles and shuts the door behind her before walking to your bed and kneeling. She reaches up, pulling at the waistband of your pants teasingly.

“I didn’t think it would be that easy to convince you,” Swan says, hooking her fingers around your underwear so she can pull both garments at the same time. “Let’s see what you have, big brother.” She says mockingly, like an insult meant to make you feel bad about having your stepsister give you a titjob. Swan’s cocky attitude disappears as she pulls down your pants, and your cock smacks her forehead. She leans back, letting it slip off her head. Her eyes follow your cock, and she hesitantly reaches for it. Grabbing it, Swan strokes your cock slowly, moving from base to tip. She feels your pulse through your veins. Swan gulps as her eyes wander back up to you. She scoots closer and places your cock between her breasts. It’s hot, and your musk surrounds her. Swan gathers her saliva, and she dribbles her spit onto your cock. It rolls off your shaft and between her tits.

Swan’s eye moves between your cock and your eyes before she presses the soft mound together around your cock. The tip pokes through the top, amazing Swan as she slowly begins to pump your cock. You groan as you enjoy your stepsister’s tit around your cock. As it becomes slick, she speeds up and drops more of her spit between her tits. They start shining as her spit moves to cover the beautiful mounds. “Cum already!” Swan says a mixture of frustration and want. The longer this went on, the more she wanted your cock, she was trying so hard to push it out of her mind, but it was a losing battle.

“Why don’t you suck on it then? Then I’ll take you to your party.” Swan grumbled but agreed quickly. As she moved your cock between her breasts, she leaned down and kissed the tip. Instinctively, she licked her lips. Precum had stained them, and she got her first taste of you. She felt something inside her stir, some kind of hunger. Swan went back for more; she stuck her tongue out and lapped at the head when it poked out between her breasts.

Swan could feel herself getting wet as she tasted more of your precum. Her mind became fixated on your cock; she let go of her breasts, letting them bounce as she took your cock in her hand and began stroking it. She bobbed her head, letting her tongue run across the tip of your cock. She reached down, moving the bottom of her bunny outfit to the side, and began toying with her clit. Swan’s moans gave you more pleasure as her throat vibrated. You were on the edge of cumming, and Swan knew it. She felt your cock throbbing in her mouth, and she was getting desperate for your cum. You were her stepbrother, and she wanted you more than ever. She looked at you with pleading eyes, silently asking you to cum in her mouth. You saw her pretty face begging for it, and you didn’t hold back. You grabbed the back of Swan’s head and pushed her to the base of your cock before cumming. She tried to fight you at first, putting her hand on your thigh to push you away, but as she got a taste of your cum, her body gave in, and her mind followed. Her grip softened, and she leaned in. Swan’s eyes became half-lidded as she continued to gently suck your cock, drinking every drop of cum you had to offer.

Seeing your stepsister like that turned you on, keeping you hard. Swan was still playing with herself, her hand slowly moving between her folds. You place your hand under Swan’s chin and tilt her head back. She opens her mouth, showing you how she drank everything. “Let’s keep going.” Swan nods, standing up slowly. You reach toward Swan and grab one of her breasts, squeezing it as you push Swan onto the bed. She moans softly as she feels your hand roughly grope her tit. She looks at you with needy eyes. You take a close look at Swan, noticing her beauty for the first time. You lean in and kiss her. She welcomes the kiss, wrapping her arms around your neck as she pulls you in closer. You climb over Swan, moving your hands to her thick thighs, gripping them tightly. Your cock twitches against her wet slit.

Swan whimpers through your kiss as she feels your cock rub against her. “I want you,” she says weakly. You want her, too. You spread Swan’s legs and rub yourself against her slit. You were driving yourself and Swan crazy. You align yourself with Swan’s entrance, looking into her eyes before pushing past her lips and moving inside her. You both moan; as wrong as it is to be having sex with your stepsister, it feels so right. Connected to the young woman, you bury yourself inside her. Swan pulls you closer to her, pressing her lips against yours as your cock twitches inside her. “You’re so big,” she whines, reaching one hand down to her cunt. “You’re going to break me.”

You’re buried deep inside Swan. Her breathy moans fill the room as she grinds herself against you. As much as you were stretching Swan, she was loving it. You begin pulling out slowly, her walls refusing to let you go. You push back in slowly, hitting her womb. Swan wraps her legs around your waist, using her legs to try and push you deeper. Her warm core makes you crave more from your stepsister. You pull out again and thrust in faster than before. Every thrust that follows becomes faster and faster until you reach a good pace, your bodies clapping together. Swan’s tits bounce and jiggle as you drive your cock inside her. You attach yourself to one of her breasts, your tongue circling her nipple as you drive your cock deep into Swan. She grips you tightly, whining as she feels your cock crushing her womb.

“So good!” Swan cries out, the tension in her body building as you continue to drive your cock into your stepsister. You felt at home inside her and never wanted to pull out. Swan felt similarly; being filled by your cock felt right to her. Part of her wondered why the two of you had never done it before.

The tension in Swan’s body slowly built with each thrust. It tensed around you, and you could feel her nails digging into your skin. You could feel your orgasm coming, too. Your cock began to throb inside Swan. “I’m going to cum,” you grunt as you continue thrusting.

“Inside, please inside.” Swan mumbles before she can even think. Unable to hold on any longer, you drive your cock inside Swan, unleashing waves of cum inside her pussy. You paint her walls and fill her womb. Swan cums; the feeling of your hot cum pouring inside her was too much to handle. Out of breath, the two of you remain still; you look up and meet Swan’s gaze. You lean in and kiss her. Swan accepts it, her grip loosening until you pull away. You move in and kiss her neck as your hands squeeze her thighs. She didn’t want this feeling to end. “Don’t pull out.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” you respond. You revel in the pleasure Swan’s body is giving you; her cunt squeezes down on your cock, trying to milk you for more. You kiss Swan’s neck, marking her body with hickeys. “You’re not going to that party tonight.”

“I don’t want to go anymore. I want my big brother to keep fucking me,” Swan says, her voice filled with lust. You smile at her and give her a kiss. She smiles back, “From now on, you’re the only one I want to have sex with.” You pull out slowly and push back in at the same pace. Swan moans with a smile as she feels your cock moving inside her again.

“I’ll make sure of that,” you tell her before you begin your second round of lovemaking. You and Swan continue into the night. Eventually, you stripped her of her bunny outfit and left marks all over her body. You don’t know how many times the two of you came; all you do know is that each and every time you came inside your stepsister. You slept together afterward, Swan lying on your chest with your cock still inside her.

When morning came, you both understood you had to keep this hidden from your parents. While they were gone, you enjoyed being together to its maximum. Your attraction to each other only increased as time went on. It was difficult to keep your hands off Swan, and she couldn’t resist either, giving herself to you anytime you got close to her. It was no surprise that within a month, Swan was pregnant with your child. The amount of time you and Swan snuck off to fuck, it would’ve been a miracle if she wasn’t. She was happy, though, gladly carrying your child. While your parents might’ve been mad, more so when she claimed not to know who the father was, they weren’t going to abandon her. Considering the apartment you were staying at during the semester was close to the hospital, you offered to have Swan stay with you. They quickly accepted your offer, and it gave you the chance to spend more time with her. You were going to be one big happy family with Swan, and that began with a great sex life. The two of you continued your trysts while she was pregnant; you even proposed to her after one of your explosive nights. More than a stepsister, Swan was going to be your wife.

Epilogue

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #purple kiss smut #swan smut

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hellishjoel · 1 year ago

Text

cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air.

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets. You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M.

Joel Miller.

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes.

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over.

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension.

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist.

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor.

Virgin.

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings.

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind.

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit.

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs.

You shakily exhale as he warms you.

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job.

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck.

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk.

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it.

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity.

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity.

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings.

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur.

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed.

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless.

“I think so.”

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it.

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time.

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you.

But thinking about him wasn’t enough.

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin.

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment.

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him.

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.”

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care.

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office.

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office.

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him.

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice.

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning.

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office.

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you.

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.”

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline.

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.”

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper.

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear.

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence.

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips.

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing.

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip.

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.”

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong.

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight.

You’ve never seen a man so hungry.

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils.

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point.

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind.

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush.

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words.

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows.

“You- what?”

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk.

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop.

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine.

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak.

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin.

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk.

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along.

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his.

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs.

“No, definitely not.”

“What’d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.”

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.”

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk.

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke.

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties.

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn.

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it.

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.”

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look.

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile.

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does.

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine.

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking.

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.”

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back.

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him.

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again.

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps.

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs.

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze.

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are.

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.”

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it.

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk.

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants.

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.”

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes.

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him.

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one.

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes.

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him.

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well.

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards.

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger.

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey.

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk.

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.”

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk, dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him.

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions.

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you.

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this.

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss.

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey.

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.”

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers.

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance.

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure.

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously.

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too.

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head.

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him.

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge.

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.”

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please.

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth.

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows.

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth.

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor.

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw.

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish.

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you.

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps.

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth.

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight.

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy.

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine.

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.”

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does.

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth.

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm.

“J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance.

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided.

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like.

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp.

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights?

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more.

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good.

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment.

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently.

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second.

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him.

Now you’re really aching for him, wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria.

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now.

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips.

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it.

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside.

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?”

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him.

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach.

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips.

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot.

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared.

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin.

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers.

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern.

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.”

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit.

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously.

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him.

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds.

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine.

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time.

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing.

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile.

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.”

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.”

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution.

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.”

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls.

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper.

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you.

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features.

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body.

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt.

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full.

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal.

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you.

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.”

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions.

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear.

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep.

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to.

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.”

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off.

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands.

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction.

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt.

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more.

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own.

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions.

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you.

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest.

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond.

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison.

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you?

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name.

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M’sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm.

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.”

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you.

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light.

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers.

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven.

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths.

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves.

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his.

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp.

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp.

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you.

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm.

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom.

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze.

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any.

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy.

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces.

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet.

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head.

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile.

“Or your tongue?”

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug.

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.”

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers.

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin.

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already.

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-”

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water.

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops.

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk.

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens.

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle.

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo.

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.”

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.”

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients.

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins.

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.”

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard.

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.”

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.”

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.”

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution.

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back.

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process.

Joel sighs.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this.

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him?

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him.

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back.

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.”

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused.

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.”

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.”

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller.

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title.

The Obsidian Gallery

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller.

next chapter ->

3K notes · View notes

diejager · 1 year ago

Note

not exactly a specific prompt or anything but - could you write more stepdad!könig and dbf!horangi pls? 👉👈

Cw: DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, STEPCEST, AGE GAP public sex?, exhibitionism, fingering, under the table, mention of forced piercing, rough sex, unprotected sex, PinV, mention of anal sex, tell em if I missed any.

You jerked, dropping the fork in your hand and biting your lower lip to stop a moan from slipping through between them. Unfortunately, the sudden click of your fork and you shift in expression worried your mother, making her question you, brows furrowed and lips pursed into a frown. She was worried, you knew she was, but that was the last thing you had on mind, neither her quiet quarry about your health and unpredictable act, nor König’s piercing eyes and the food that was now sprayed on the table.

What truly worried you was Horangi and your own inability to hold your voice back. He looked nonchalant, brow quipped up in faked confusion, knowing that your reaction resulted from him, his wandering hand that slipped under the waistband of your short and into your cunt, pumping in and out fo you with a slow and unbothered pace. You jumped from the unexpected tap against your gummy wall, three fingers curling before they hit your sweet spot, sending an arousing pulse up your spine. You’d be fucked stupid by his fingers alone, thick and long - not as long as your stepfather, but they were better than yours - stretching your hole open to take his cock later that night.

“I’m ah-okay, mom,” you smiled shakily at her, hand gripping tightly around your knife, tremors wracking your body as you swallowed down moan after moan. “Just a stomach ache.”

“Oh dear, do you need to lay down?” She frowned good-naturedly, the skin on her brow wrinkling.

“Yeah,” you internally cheered, you’d be able to get away from this situation until later, when you’d be stuck under Horangi, ”Thanks mom.”

You were gagged, mouth stuffed with a soiled pair of your panties, drooling around your thong, down your lips while you wailed. You were stuffed with cock, legs jerking with every push of Horangi’s cock, walls forcibly pried open to take his thick shaft and his prettily trimmed pubes rubbing your swollen clit. You felt his cock carve the walls of your cunt to fit his girth, thicker in the middle with a petty and angry head and veins crawling up the shaft. It cured lightly, light enough to stand between his legs, but heavy just enough that you could feel it weigh you down, pounding away at your crumbling resolve.

He was panting, a husky and laboured breathing on your neck, his hot breath hitting you as he kissed down your shoulder, teeth scratching your soft and tender flesh, weak under his sharper teeth. He hungered for more; he lusted for eternal pleasure. Suckling the curve of your collar, teeth skimming the swell of your jostling breasts, nippled flared and wet from his manhandling. He dove back in, lips wrapped around your least swollen nub, sucking as if he was trying to milk it of all substance. You cried out when he bit down, sinking his fangs into the fat of your chest before he unlatched himself with a wet pop, leaving the indentations of his mouth on you. Then he did the same to your other tit, mind keen on fucking you, his dick ramming into you roughly while he gave attention to your sore nipples.

“Fuck, imagine these pierced,” he chuckled dreamily, a low, addicted daze in his mind, dreaming of piercing your nipples himself, “Wouldn’t you like that?”

You shook your head frantically, dreading giving them mor to use against you, more leverage to make your body betray and succumb to their whims, especially with how often your stepdad’s at home. You struggled under him as if to prove your point, feet kicking around his narrow waist, the scarred flesh a touch different from the rest of his body, pulling at the restraints keeping your hands tied to your headboard —his belt. You let out a ragged and angered scream, silenced by the gag but your body still shook with the force behind it, teary eyes closed while they rolled back in reluctant pleasure.

Horangi’s chest rumbled, a smile stretched awkwardly by the tiger-like scars on his face. In retaliation, he gave a few hard thrusts, rocking your bed against the wall, his cut head kissing your bruised cervix after brushing against your sweet, gummy wall. It punched the air out of your lungs, leaving you heaving and gasping for air, fully at the mercy of your stepfather’s friend-

“Ja, she would look so pretty,” König’s sudden appearance scared you, his mocking coo and statement reaffirming Horangi’s thought.

Your closed around Horangi, flinching away as much as you could in your restrained state, your fear and trepidation made you tighter and wetter, slick suddenly bursting around Horangi’s leaky cock. You could hear your stepfather move, his purposefully-loud steps booming in your ear, but you couldn’t see him, eyes rolled so far back in an explosive release. You felt the bed shift under him, dipping to a side while he loomed over you both, looking at your swollen nipples as if he was admiring how pretty they’d look if he had you pierced them, a rod straight through your round nub.

“Sehr hübsch, Schatzi,” he hummed, his rough hand sliding down the curve of your navel where he could feel every hard thrust and found your clit, rolling it with a big finger, “Or a piercing here, on your little clit.”

König smiled handsomely, a brazenly hungry stare covering his threatening and dominating composure. His ice blue eyes squinted mirthfully, gleaming with a dark urge, something that demanded control, that wanted submission and subservience from you. He’d fill that rimmed hole of yours after Horangi’s done with your pussy, spreading your ass around his thick and veiny cock that pressed uncomfortably against his briefs.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

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hoshifighting · 4 months ago

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First off, i love your writing<3 I had this imagine with Joshua... imagine he's like a CEO, and so he spoils his s/o, and one day, he comes home from work, and his s/o is showing him their new nails, and he can't stop imagining what their nails look like wrapped around his cock. So his s/o gives him a hj....

giving ceo!joshua a hand job with your fresh sets of nails

WARNINGS: smut, masturbation, handjob, body fluids; precum/cum, dirty talk, messy orgasm, joshua ruins his suit.

you hear the front door click open, the familiar sound of joshua’s shoes hitting the hardwood floor. “baby, i’m home,” he calls out, voice warm but laced with exhaustion. it’s been a long day for him, but you’ve been waiting for this moment. you pop your head out of the bathroom, flashing a smile.

“hey, babe! look!” you wiggle your fingers, showing off your freshly done nails, each one a different shade of soft, pastel pink with little sparkles at the tips. they’re perfect, delicate but bold, a small luxury joshua always insists on paying for.

his eyes catch them immediately, and for a second, something changes in his expression. he’s staring longer than usual, jaw tightening, eyes darkening just a bit. you know that look. “cute, right?” you say, your tone light, but your eyes are locked on his, reading the heat simmering thhere

he swallows, his throat bobbing, and steps closer, eyes flicking between your hands and your lips. “yeah… cute,” he mutters, but his gaze dips lower, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “real cute.”

you smirk. “what’s going on in that head of yours?” you ask, your voice teasing. you can already guess, though. joshua’s always been easy to read when it comes to you.

he sighs, loosening his tie just a bit, but his eyes don’t leave your hands. “i was just thinking… how good those nails would look wrapped around my cock.” it comes out blunt, raw, but fuck if it doesn’t send a shiver through you. you bite your lip, stepping closer.

“oh yeah?” you hum, fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his suit. you can feel the heat of him underneath, the way his body tenses slightly as your nails scrape gently against his abdomen.

“fuck, baby… yeah,” he groans, his voice lower now, breath heavier. you’re already reaching for his belt, undoing the buckle slowly, teasingly, as his cock starts to strain against his pants.

you pull it out, thick and heavy in your palm, the head flushed a deep red, already leaking precum that glistens in the low light of the room. your nails look almost too perfect against his length, a contrast that makes your mouth water. the smooth gloss of the polish catches the light as you wrap your fingers around him, giving an experimental stroke.

“shit,” joshua breathes, head falling back slightly, his hips jerking just the tiniest bit as your hand starts moving up and down his shaft, slow at first, just enough to drive him crazy. the slick sounds of your movements fill the space between you, wet and obscene, as more precum drips from the tip, coating your palm.

“look how fucking wet you are,” you murmur, eyes fixed on his cock, the way it glistens with each stroke, your fingers sliding easily along the length. his cock twitches in your grip, thick veins pulsing under your touch. you tighten your hold slightly, watching how his breath stutters, chest rising and falling rapidly.

his head tilts back, lips parted. you start pumping him faster, your nails gleaming as they slide up and down his slick cock, the sounds of your hand working him growing louder, filthier. it’s messy now, precum pooling at the base of his cock, dripping down your fingers, smearing across your palm.

“fuck, baby, yeah—just like that,” he groans, his voice breaking as his hips buck into your hand. his hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your sides, but he’s letting you take control, just losing himself in the sensation. his suit jacket is still perfectly in place, pristine against the absolute mess you’re making of his cock. it’s almost funny how composed he looks from the waist up, only his cock exposed, glistening and wet, twitching as you work him harder.

your tits bounce slightly with the motion, brushing against his arm as you keep jerking him off, each stroke quicker, tighter than the last. you feel him tense, the grip on your waist tightening as his breath starts to come in ragged gasps. “i’m close,” he groans, voice hoarse, barely keeping it together. “fuck, i’m so fucking close…”

you don’t let up, squeezing him just a bit harder, your thumb swiping over the tip, spreading the precum around. “want you to cum all over that nice suit of yours,” you purr, leaning in close to his ear, lips brushing against the shell. “ruin it for me.”

that’s all it takes. his cock jerks violently in your hand, his whole body trembling as he cums hard, thick ropes of it shooting out, splattering across his stomach, his suit, staining the expensive fabric with streaks of white. you keep stroking him through it, milking every last drop as his hips jerk helplessly, his cock throbbing in your grip.

“fuck, baby…” he groans, barely able to keep his balance, his head resting against your shoulder as he comes down from the high. your hand is still wrapped around him, covered in his cum, your nails slick and shining.

you pull back just enough to admire your work, his cock softening in your grip, still leaking slightly as it glistens in the light. “i guess my nails really did look good on your cock,” you murmur, smirking up at him.

he lets out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch his breath, his suit now an absolute mess, but he doesn’t seem to care. “yeah… they really fucking did.”

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atzaurora · 4 months ago

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in need for soft sex with lots, LOTS of kisses with seonghwa please please

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] ℬ𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒯𝒉𝒆 𝒞𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.﹙박성화﹚ (1.5k)

𖥔 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚. Having soft sex with Seonghwa, which includes getting lots and lots of kisses in between... ➤ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. fem!reader x seonghwa; dating ➤ 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆. imagine (smut) .ᐟ.ᐟ𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.ᐟ.ᐟ. smut, MDNI!!! unprotected sex, manual stimulation, oral sex, m & f receiving, multiple orgasms

❥ 𝒂/𝒏: I hope this is what you had in mind! sorry it took me so long, I needed to focus on work a bit more recently, so I'm still working on some requests, pls be patient :3 enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]! ; [𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here! ; [about me] + [guidelines]!

Seonghwa took your hand gently, leading you toward your shared bedroom with a quiet sense of urgency. The anticipation between you both hung in the air like an unspoken promise, electrifying and thick with desire. As he opened the door, the scene before you made your breath hitch—a room softly illuminated by flickering candlelight, casting warm, golden shadows across the walls. The dim glow danced across the space, creating an intimate and romantic atmosphere, one that spoke of the care and thought Seonghwa had put into preparing this moment. ── ࣪˖ MORE UNDER THE CUT

Your eyes widened slightly as you took it all in, the quiet beauty of the room only amplifying the excitement building within you. As you neared the edge of the bed, you turned to face him, your gaze locking with his. The look in your eyes conveyed everything without a single word. Seonghwa stood tall before you, his figure silhouetted against the soft light from the hallway. His expression was calm but intense, and when you reached up to trace the sharp line of his jaw, your fingertips trailing over the warmth of his skin, you could feel his breath catch slightly.

His dark eyes searched yours, asking for permission without words, waiting for you to invite him closer. You responded with a slight nod, your heart racing, your breath already quickening with anticipation. That was all he needed.

Seonghwa leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft and insistent, the kind of kiss that made heat bloom deep in your belly and sent shivers coursing through your veins. His hands, warm and strong, found their way to your waist, pulling you against him with a gentle but firm grip. You responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck, holding him close as the kiss deepened. His lips parted yours, his tongue slipping inside in a slow, deliberate dance, tasting you with a hunger that sent your pulse skyrocketing.

There was something so familiar yet thrilling about him—he tasted faintly of mint, the subtle trace of the tea he'd been drinking earlier, a flavor that was uniquely his. His hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves with a tenderness that made your skin tingle in the wake of his touch. A quiet moan escaped your lips, vibrating between you as he deftly unbuttoned your shirt, his fingers working with practiced ease. As the fabric fell away, exposing your bare skin to the cool air, Seonghwa’s mouth left a trail of feather-light kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone, each one igniting a fire deep within you.

Gently, he urged you backward until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. You sat down without hesitation, watching as Seonghwa knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was intense, filled with desire, and it sent a thrill through you as he slid your shirt off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. The lacy bra you had chosen for the evening caught his attention, and a soft groan escaped him as he reached behind you, unclasping it with ease and letting it fall away to reveal your breasts.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he placed a tender kiss on each peak, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through you. His hands continued to explore, sliding down your sides until they found the button of your jeans. In one smooth motion, he unbuttoned and unzipped them, slowly peeling them off along with your panties, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses down the length of your stomach, his touch reverent, as if savoring every inch of you. His breath fanned over the sensitive skin of your thighs, and you bit your bottom lip in anticipation, your body already humming with desire. When he paused at the juncture of your legs, he looked up at you, his eyes dark with intent. He didn’t need to ask; your silent nod was all the confirmation he needed.

The first touch of his tongue against your most sensitive spot sent shockwaves through your body, your head falling back as a gasp escaped your lips. His tongue was slow, deliberate, as it traced circles over your clit, the sensation both torturous and intoxicating. You fisted the bedsheets in your hands, desperate for something to ground you as he explored you with expert precision. Every flick, every swirl of his tongue brought you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the tension building inside you.

Seonghwa’s hands held your thighs gently, his touch grounding as he continued his ministrations. The sound of your soft whimpers and ragged breaths filled the room, mingling with the quiet crackle of the candles. When he finally found that perfect rhythm, teasing your clit while sliding a finger inside you, your hips bucked involuntarily, your body craving more of the exquisite pleasure he was giving you.

He took his time, savoring every moment, watching your reactions with dark, hooded eyes as he coaxed you closer and closer to release. Your back arched off the bed as the tension within you reached its breaking point, and with a strangled cry, the first wave of your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shook, your toes curling as pleasure pulsed through you in overwhelming waves.

Even as your body trembled, Seonghwa didn’t stop. He continued to kiss and lick at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm until you were breathless and spent. Only when he felt the last tremors fade did he pull away, his lips finding their way back to yours in a searing kiss that left you dizzy. You could taste yourself on his lips, the mix of your arousal and his hunger driving you wild all over again.

Desperation clawed at you as you reached for him, eager to feel his skin against yours, to lose yourself in him completely. Your hands fumbled to discard his clothes, pushing them off with a need that made your fingers tremble. Once he was free of the last of his clothing, he hovered above you, his body a work of art in the dim candlelight. Every muscle was defined, honed by years of dance practice, and the sight of him made your pulse quicken all over again.

Seonghwa laid you back on the bed, his body pressing against yours, the warmth of his skin like a balm to your heightened senses. His lips trailed down your neck and across your chest, his hands roaming freely, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, teasing you as he took a moment to appreciate the sight of you beneath him, your body open and ready for him.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he slid inside you, filling you completely. The sensation of him stretching you, the way your body responded to his, had both of you moaning in unison. Your walls clenched around him, and Seonghwa let out a ragged breath as he began to move, each thrust deep and unhurried.

His kisses became more insistent, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip as his pace increased, his hips rolling in a rhythm that sent you spiraling. His hands, strong and sure, roamed over your body, exploring every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. You could feel his muscles tensing beneath your fingertips, the sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he held himself back, his focus entirely on your pleasure.

Suddenly, his hand found its way between your legs, his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to send you over the edge once more. The combination of his thrusts and the attention to your most sensitive spot was overwhelming, and you cried out his name as you came around him, your nails digging into his back as your body clenched tight.

Seonghwa groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as your climax triggered his own. With a final thrust, he pulled out, stroking himself with quick, desperate movements as he reached his peak. The warmth of his release spilled over your hand and stomach, the sight of him lost in pleasure making your heart race all over again.

Panting, he collapsed beside you, both of you utterly spent, the flickering candlelight painting the room in shades of gold and amber. Seonghwa leaned over to kiss your forehead, his eyes soft, filled with affection and adoration. "I love you," he whispered, his voice low, sending a warm shiver through you.

You turned to him with a content smile, your heart full as you whispered back, "I love you too."

You snuggled closer, feeling his heartbeat slow to match yours, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a blanket.

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fourmoony · 7 months ago

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𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬

james potter x f!reader

summary: james and reader have sexual tension

cw: smut, fingering, oral (f), language, drinking, mdni

1.2k, wrote this while listening to KHELANI by Jordan Adetunji, highly recommend

James is across the living room, almost hidden by the crowd of people around him. You can just see him through the gap in Sirius and Remus' heads. He's laughing at something one of them has said, teeth a pearly white against the dim lighting in the room, lips full and tinted red from cherry vodka. His hair is a haphazard mess on his head, the neck of his t-shirt stretched out from Sirius' inability to be aware of personal space when he's drunk.

The party's loud. It's rowdy and bordering on a police visit. There's people everywhere, an overwhelming number of bodies pressing against you. You let them pass, sip from the cup in your hand, pretend to listen to the girls as they shout over the deep bass of the music. Adrenaline flows through your veins, eyes trained solely on James. He's ethereal, in his element, a greek god of a man. He's enticing, a need growing in the pits of your belly until you're practically begging him to look at you.

He does. Quickly, at first, as though checking you're still in the general vicinity. It's your pleased smile that has his eyes landing on you a second time, discarding everyone around him as his eyes zero in on yours. His gaze is charged, his face perfectly neutral. Your hands flex around your cup, lips tilting up at the corners. A mutual understanding passes, the build and snap of restraint.

The bass of the music from Sirius' sound system travels up your legs, hits your chest.

James dismisses himself wordlessly, walks with his eyes on you until he's practically barging Lily and Marlene to the side. They hardly bother. Your head tilts to meet James' gaze. Slow, calculated. It makes James' jaw clench. "Good night?" He asks as he dips closer to your ear.

Your eyes shutter closed at the proximity, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the smell of him. Woodsy, clean. The forrest when the sun breaks through the trees after a storm. "Could be better."

James pulls back to read your expression. It takes everything to keep it neutral when his head tilts to the side, when his eyes narrow like he can see right through you. There's something about James that you can never pinpoint. He's sweet, he's funny. Maybe it's the drink or the darkness of the room, the slow bass of the music, you're not sure. But like this, at parties, finding each other in the corner of the room, James seems... different. Sexually charged energy exudes from him in a way it doesn't any other time.

Your pulse quickens when he reaches to brush a strand of hair from your shoulder, hand cupping and thumb pressing to the skin, feeling the quick beat. "What kind of host would I be if I didn't offer to make it a better evening, for you?" James asks.

"A bad one." You shrug.

You're not sure if it's that exact sentence that does it. The challenge in your tone, the half-lidded close of your eyes, or the way your bottom lip folds between your teeth. But James has you in his bedroom in a minute flat, back against the door and his lips against your neck. His hips press you to the cool wood, hands hiking up your skirt until they're firmly on your hips.

He's everywhere at once, firm and filthy. You're not sure you imagined James like this, ever. His nails press half moons into the very top of your ass, his grip firm. He kisses fast, lips eager to travel every inch of skin he can get. Across your jaw, down your throat, teeth scraping and nipping at your pulse point, your collar bones, the round of your shoulder, until his weight against you is the only thing holding you up.

"James," You whine, hands fisted in the material of his shirt, head spinning. "Jamie."

You feel him smirk against the swell of your tits, the nip of his teeth. "Yeah?"

"Need more."

His hands squeeze at the flesh of your ass, pulling his head up until he's directly in front of you, eye to eye. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

The breath stills in your lungs, barely managing a nod before James sinks to his knees. His hands are soft, running paths of goose bumps across your thighs, down your calves. His hand circles your ankle, lifts gently the crook of your knee rests over his shoulder. Your head thumps against the wood of the door, a moan slipping from between kiss bitten lips.

James looks sinful, on his knees, chin resting against your sternum. He pushes your skirt up further, presses a kiss just below your belly button. Your thumb swipes across his brow, a breathy sound leaving you. He doesn't waste time, kisses his way down until the only part of his face visible are his long lashes. Your hands find purchase in his hair, his hands on your hips, pressing you to the door on one wobbly leg.

His tongue swipes once, a test. Your heel digs into his spine in response, fingers twitching in his hair. He licks a second time with more intent, teeth scraping gently. It sends you jolting, moaning his name. It spurs James on, long, languid strokes of his tongue that have you writhing against him. His nose bumps against you, a dizzying euphoria that has your hips fighting against the grip of his hands for more.

One of his hands slips, drags across the underside of your thigh until he's switching out his tongue for his fingers, lips everywhere on the sides of your thighs. He presses a finger in, thick and filling. He crooks at the top, sends you spiralling until you're unaware where you are, chasing nothing but the pleasure he offers you. James smiles against your skin, whispers how good you are, how well you're taking his fingers, how good you feel squeezing around them.

"Fuck, I'm close, James." You whine.

James smiles, looks up boyishly, proud. He looks so beautiful, lips smeared with your slick, hair a mess where your hands are tangled in ink coloured curls. "Yeah?" He asks, breathlessly. "Show me."

The moan that leaves your throat is guttural. James adds a second finger, uses his tongue to swirl around your clit. The band of pleasure in your stomach pulls taught as you babble nonsense, too distracted by the beautiful, muscled man on his knees below you to care about how stupid and desperate you sound.

James' fingers move in tandem with his tongue, fast and harsh, a perfect mix that has you clenching down against him in minutes, an embarrassingly loud moan tumbling from you. James' fingers keep pumping, tongue lapping up every last piece of you until you're practically a crumpled mess.

He kisses all the way down your leg as he lowers it, allows you to catch your breath, and then stands. His lips meet yours, wet and sweet, the taste of yourself on him dizzying. "Good night?" He asks, for a second time.

His voice is strained, like he's holding back. You nod, legs shaking. "Yes."

James nods, moves a strand of hair from your forehead with his thumb. "Good."

The door creaks open, pushing you forwards with it. James gives you a once over, "Catch you downstairs."

The door closes and you collapse against it, sinking until you meet the floor. It takes several minutes to collect yourself.

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter smut #james potter fluff #marauders #marauders fic #marauders smut #remus lupin #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #sirius black #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine #peter pettigrew imagine #harry potter #smut #love #fluff

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seliasvault · 2 months ago

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Comforting the Lieutenant

Simons been waking up every night. Jolted with a heart rate high enough to give him a heart attack for the past week, and it’s your fault.

Last week, on a high-stakes mission, you’d left cover to hit the enemy. You’d succeeded, of course, putting a bullet through every one of the soldiers in the window, but you’d disobeyed a direct order. If Simon hadn’t been so caught off guard, he would have wrung your neck right after you landed. Did you have a death wish?

Instead, he kept it in, shell-shocked with dreams of cradling your dead body, begging you to hold on. Even after his choppy slumber, there’s no respite, the image of your bloody body, holes through your chest burn his retinas, enough to drive any man insane.

And so he finds himself, after a particularly gruesome nightmare, at your door. It’s barely dawn, but he needs to see your face, feel the blood pumping through your veins. He knocks, loud, loud enough to startle you awake.

Walking to the door, stumbling slightly from sleep, you open it, hands rubbing at your eyes as you try to pry them open. Leaned against the door, to your shock is your Lieutenant.

“Lieutenant? It’s-“ You glance your head to the alarm clock that sits next to your bedside.

“It’s four in the morning,” you whine out, confused. You think he was trying to get you on your feet earlier for training.

While you appreciate every moment spent with him, and practically swoon whenever he’s near you, being woken up had the effect to wipe your silly crush out of the picture.

What your met with however are Simons wide eyes, still waking from his nightmare. His hair is tousled, messy from running his hand through it. Mask missing from his face. And while you’ve seen his face before, you’ve never seen it like this.

There’s something else, though. His chest is heaving and his breath is heavy, labored even.

With no response your sleepy brain takes him in, finally catching up he’s in his own pajamas, with a sleeveless shirt. That part surprises you, you’ve never seen him in anything casual.

“Are you okay?” You lean toward him, brows furrowed almost ready to catch him lest he fall. And he looks like he might.

His chest keeps rising, concern now blossoming within you. You take a full step forward, placing you hand on his chest, his heart rate hammering under your fingers.

“Hey, I-it’s okay-“ You move your other hand to rest on his bare shoulder, you’ve learned contact is the best way to steady someone.

“Lt I’m here with you, it’s alright, can you breathe with me?”

Simon had never been this vulnerable in front of someone, especially you. But you’re alive standing in front of him. He can feel the warmth of your skin seeping into his being. But he can’t help his thinking, the trail leading to everyone he’s lost. Can’t help the way his brain spirals, the way his post-nightmare fatigue has got him in a full blown panic.

Your soft voice pierces through the fog, like a beacon of light. He tries to focus, he tries to pull his head out of the water he's under.

With no other idea's you fall upon your only option.

“Simon.” You say for the first time, applying pressure to the hand on his chest, hoping to ground him.

“Simon, can you hear me?” You’ve never said his name before, only ever Lieutenant, Lt or some other lame nickname you and Soap come up with on the field. So you try it, hoping it doesn’t sound out of place, hoping you’d snap him out of wherever he was in his mind. You were familiar with the feeling.

The sound of his name ringing in his ears caught his attention. You’d never said it before, hell it had been a long time since anyone had. His breathing was starting to level out, the weight of your hand on his chest pulling him back to the ground from the ether.

His hand clasping your wrist, finger finding your pulse. Slowing his heart, now beating in tandem with yours.

You feel it, feel the sway of his chest slow, the thumps of his heart lessen.

You never in a million years imagined being in this position, your stoic shielded Lieutenant. Vulnerable in front of you.

“Are you okay? What happened?” You try after a beat, hoping he’s recovered enough to give you an answer.

His brain sobered, he felt out of place. But he didn’t want to let go of your wrist, he didn’t want your hand to leave his chest.

He didn’t know how to explain it, tell you that the fear of losing you had him so torn, ripped to shreds at every waking moment. It followed him in his slumber. So he went with the simplest answer.

“Nightmare.” He said softly, finally responding.

“You want to talk about it?” It was a far shot, knowing your Lieutenant. But you gave him the option anyway.

He mulled it over, he could tell you, but he felt perfectly content basking in your warmth.

He let out a breath, eyes darting to your lips, the cascading light from the hallway illuminating your face in the dark.

He yearned to pull you close, kiss you until you were engraved in his brain, promised to be alive and safe. He wanted to be selfish.

He wanted so many things but most of all, he wanted you.

And so he gave in, lips crashing into yours. He let himself be selfish, for once. Memorizing every detail, from the way you kissed back to the movements you made.

You felt tangible.

And although you’d never imagined your little crush on the Lieutenant to get you here, it wasn’t unwelcome.

#the end and they lived happily ever after forever and ever LMAO #did i write this instead of the piles of work i have #yes #can i only write when i have things to do #also yes #literally was off and didn’t write a thing but now i’m swamped and the ideas are following #anyway #was in a sentimental mood writing this #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #selias drables #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x you #posting this while i work on the many drafts i'm actually really excited about

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wayward-dreamer · 1 month ago

Text

Do Something About It

Square/s filled: Free space @jacklesversebingo |

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Word count: 2,056

Summary: Y/N goes to the Radio Company concert in Austin to support her boyfriend, but gets more out of the show than she thought she would.

Warnings: Swearing, sweaty Jensen (yes that comes with its own warning), smut: dirty talk, bathroom sex, public sex, v fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), fluff.

A/N: I've been working on this one literally since the concert happened, and it took finally being in the same room as @hintsofhoney (still can't believe that happened!) for me to finish it lol Thanks for beta'ing babe! Happy reading everyone!

The room was sweltering.

No one could figure out if it was hotter inside or outside, but it was probably the former considering the scorching display in front of the crowd. The band was electrifying, the backup singers were angelically soulful, Steve was absolutely crushing it but Y/N only had eyes for one man on that stage.

Beads of sweat dripped down the length of Jensen’s neck, the vein glistening as he threw his head back, combed his hands through his drenched locks and stood in front of the mic again. The black tank he wore exposed his muscular arms, a rare sight which was gladly received. The heat was getting to everyone, but his presence in the room was either making it more manageable or worse. She couldn’t decide. She suddenly wished she could’ve been at the first night’s show as well. Maybe it could’ve prepared her better for what she was currently witness to. Or maybe it would've been the precursor to this final nail in the coffin.

Between the way he looked and the way he sounded - that deep husk that only increased as he sang - the need to squeeze her thighs together grew. The perspiration that ran down her back was nothing compared to the wetness between her legs the longer she stood to the side of the room. Just about every erotic thought she had about him came to mind, her brain not knowing when to chill out and forgetting she was in public. All she knew was she needed a cold drink and even colder shower once this was over. Or maybe her vibrator and some time alone with those thoughts was what she really needed. Or maybe she needed him; those strong arms around her, hands bruising her skin in the best way possible, his cock slamming into her roughly…

She dropped her head, closing her eyes and willing those images away, but it was no use. Especially when she looked up again and caught a glimpse of his gaze on her through the crowd, his green eyes intensely focused on her as he crooned the last words of the song. With his attention solely on her for what felt like forever but in actuality was probably only a moment, she knew she’d have to give way to the fantasies.

His cute little dance and sultry roll of his hips as the beat played out only added to her wild imagination, and as Steve announced the last song she was more than grateful. The first thing to do was splash water on her face and calm the fuck down once this was over.

As the final number reached its crescendo, the crowd cheered and applauded as the band continued with their incredible energy. With one last riff, the boys said their goodbyes and walked off the stage, the room going dark as the people still clapped and whistled. As the house lights came on, Y/N followed behind a group of people as they made their way to the exit. Spotting the sign for the restrooms, she walked towards it, going down the narrow hallway. Just as she reached the women’s, she heard the door across the hall open behind her and a tug on her hand, dragging her back. She almost screamed, but the hands at her waist turned her around and pulled her close, a pair of familiar green eyes staring down at her.

“Fuck, you scared me!” she exclaimed, slapping his sweaty, tattooed arm.

He hummed, leaning into her neck and pressing a soft kiss to her pulse. “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to.”

“How’d you know I was coming this way, anyway?” she asked, her hands resting on his soaked tank.

“I had a feeling,” he shrugged, his face close to hers.

His lips captured hers in a long, sultry kiss. The kind that always had her needing air as soon as he pulled away. Only this time it deepened as he walked her back towards the sink, his mouth refusing to leave hers as he bent a little, supporting her thighs and lifting her onto the ledge. Her legs instantly wrapped around him, her arms draped over his broad shoulders as her fingers played with his wet locks. An obscene moan escaped him as she lightly bit down on his bottom lip, causing him to briefly shift away and glare down at her.

“That’s not very nice, Y/N,” he husked.

She scoffed, flipping his shirt up slightly and reaching for his belt. “No, what’s not nice is you giving me that look on stage while you’re dressed like this.”

He grabbed her wrists in his large hands, holding them down to her sides. “I can give you whatever look I want, sweetheart. It’s you that should know you don’t talk back to me.”

“So take me home and do something about it, then,” she challenged.

“Who said anything about going home?”

Jensen lifted his eyebrows suggestively as he moved down and kissed her, passionately. She tugged roughly at his shirt, pulling him as close as he could get to her. His lips drifted down her cheek, jaw and neck, leaving small nips and kisses along her skin as her nails scraped through his hair, eliciting a deep groan from him. She had a brief thought that this bathroom might not be the best place to do whatever he was planning, but she forgot all about that the second his calloused hands pushed the hem of her dress up her thighs. He pulled away for a moment, his breath fanning against her mouth as he lifted his hand, pressing the pads of his fingers against her bottom lip. Knowing exactly what he wanted, she softly sucked at the digits and let them go with a wet pop, a low moan leaving her in anticipation of what was coming.

His hand drifted down between her spread legs, their eyes locked as she felt him pull her underwear aside and slide his fingers up and down her folds. Her head fell back slightly, leaving her neck open to attention from his plump lips.

“So fucking wet already,” he muttered, one side of his mouth pulling up as he stared down at her.

Before she could respond in any way, his fingers moved into her tight heat, causing a loud moan to fall from her lips. He pulled them out a little before sliding back in, building up the pace gradually to one that had her whimpering in his ear just the way he liked. She gripped his shoulders tight, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt him hitting that sweet spot inside her.

“So fucking tight, darlin’,” he groaned, nipping at her pulse. “Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock…”

“Jay, please,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering open to look up at him.

“What, babe?” he whispered against her lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“W-Want-” she shook her head, unable to think straight.

He clicked his tongue as he smirked down at her. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

His fingers slid in a little deeper, making her cry out in wanton pleasure as she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down, pressing a rough kiss to his lips. Her hands stroked down the front of his top and reached for his belt once more, but he stopped her just as quickly as before.

He pulled away from the kiss, his gaze darkened as he removed his fingers from her and undid his belt himself.

“Fuck, Jensen, just fuck me already,” she whined, her breath heavy with impatience.

He smirked as he unzipped his white jeans, taking that small moment to relish the way her fingers kneaded into his shoulders, tugging at his black shirt as she waited for him to do something.

“You gotta ask nice, darlin’,” he teased.

“Please,” she begged, draping her arms around him and pulling at the ends of his hair. “Please fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he praised, giving her lips a quick peck.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her close, her legs locking around him. She held tight to him as he took hold of his hard cock, lining up to her entrance. Without wasting another second, he shifted his hips and pushed into her, her walls sheathing him completely as he sank deep. Her mouth fell open in a hushed moan, their eyes on each other as he grinned at her reaction. He set a steady pace, his hips rolling as he moved within her, a growl escaping him as her fingers combed through his sweat streaked locks.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he husked, pressing his forehead to hers. “Feel so fucking good, so tight and perfect just for me…”

“Shit,” she hissed, her head dropping down on his shoulder. “F-Fuck me harder, Jay. P-Please.”

The words had barely left her mouth before he was picking up the pace, his pelvis smacking against her spread thighs as he pounded into her. She cried out as she buried her face in his face, panting against his skin as she held on for dear life. It was everything she had envisioned as she watched him perform earlier, and then some. Beads of perspiration ran down his throat, causing her to softly nip and lick them away, tasting his tangy musk on her tongue. That clearly did something for him because the sound that came out of him - somewhere between a growl and a moan - only encouraged him to thrust deeper into her, his cock pressing against that spot inside her with precision.

It was hot inside that bathroom. She knew that they’d have to take several showers once they were home, but at that moment she couldn’t give a shit. Their hands roamed over each other’s sweaty skin, their bodies moved perfectly together and she was gaining on that sweet bliss, feeling the beginnings of that heat in her core.

“You’re close, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” His voice was low, the rumble vibrating against her. “I can feel it… you wanna cum, don’t ya?”

“Yes!” she moaned, the sound echoing off the walls, but she no longer cared if anyone heard her. “I-I wanna cum, baby, please. Make me cum.”

He hummed, biting his lip as he stared down at her. “How bad do you want it, Y/N?”

“So bad, Jensen, please,” she pleaded, her nails digging into his biceps.

He held her tighter, feeling his cock pulse as he slammed into her repeatedly, knowing he wasn’t too far from his own release. He pulled her hips forward with each thrust, her pleasure gaining volume as they both headed toward that euphoric peak. The rhythm faltered slightly as they grew closer to the edge, her desperate whimper enough for him to know she needed a little help. He brought his hand down between her legs, his thumb flicking over clit, circling the swollen nub as she clung to him, their eyes locked as her mouth hovered over his.

“Take it, darlin’,” he groaned, kissing along her jaw. “Take what’s yours… make yourself cum on my cock.”

With a few more thrusts, Y/N’s eyes rolled back as she cried out his name just as the coil snapped. Her body convulsed as her walls contracted around him, feeling her wetness cover his cock as it throbbed inside her. His neck strained as he let out a deep grunt, the vein popping against his glistening skin as he followed soon after her, ropes of his cum flowing into her. He shuddered as he pulled her close, her nose nuzzling against his neck and up to his jaw. His lips found hers in a slow, passionate kiss before they pulled away, sharing a small laugh.

“Can we leave now, please?” she asked, pushing him back lightly. “We need to wash this place off us.”

“Sure,” he chuckled, before his voice dropped down as he leaned into her. “And I’m gonna take my time with you once we get home.”

Feeling a shiver run down her back as she fixed herself and popped down from the counter, she took his hand in hers after he made sure he was decent. She pushed up on her tip-toes to kiss him, roughly, letting him know everything she needed with one passionate embrace.

“You better."

#jacklesversebingo24 #Jensen x Female!Reader #Jensen x Female!Reader Smut #Jensen x Female!Reader One Shot #Jensen x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Jensen Ackles Smut #Jensen Ackles One Shot #Jensen Ackles Fanfiction #Supernatural RPF #Supernatural Fanfiction

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eddiegettingshot · 1 month ago

Note

Could i request another sneak peak of eddies big meat .. 🥺🙏… in this trying time …

aw hi best friend she lives in my scraps doc now to be ripped apart for future use because i stopped wanting to look at her ... so you can have the whole dream sex scene where spit is acceptable lube and eddie still has his mustache <3 :)

1.7k of nsfw under the cut lmao

He knows it’s Eddie marrow-deep, the way anyone knows anything in a dream.

Buck opens his eyes to light everywhere, so radiant the entire bedroom shimmers, a pale beam of it crossing Eddie’s long golden fingers where they’re clasped around Buck’s forearms to keep him in place. Eddie’s draped along his back, unapologetic about letting Buck, prone and practically immobilized, bear his full weight. Buck can’t see him, and he doesn’t say a word, just rubs his mouth into the spot beneath Buck’s ear and digs his thumbs into the insides of Buck’s wrists, but Buck is certain Eddie’s smiling. His mustache, which he’d long-since shaved in real life, is bristly, but nice. Really nice. Softer than Buck had thought it would be.

Then there’s the matter of Eddie’s cock, which he rocks slowly into the cleft of Buck’s ass. Buck can’t see that either, but it feels nice, too, stiff and hot and already soaked at the head. Buck tries to arch into him, give him something else, make it better; Eddie just laughs and keeps working him into the mattress, a lazy pantomime of a real fuck.

Dissatisfied, Buck struggles beneath him. Eddie bites him at the nape like an animal, hard enough to sting, and flattens his chest between Buck’s shoulder blades to settle him. He flexes his grip on Buck’s arms. Trapped like this, Buck can feel all of him: his ribs expand, and his belly presses into Buck’s spine as he sighs.

The restlessness—whatever it is, that under-the-skin itch to stay in motion—drains away, defeated by Eddie’s wordless command. Buck sighs, too, turning his cheek into the pillow.

The thing is, he knows it’s Eddie because it couldn’t be anyone else.

“Good. That’s good,” Eddie says, low, dragging kisses across Buck’s jaw and cheek.

Buck’s not even doing anything. Eddie won’t let him, so he doesn’t try—even as mouthwatering want seizes his gut and pours blistering heat through his pelvis. He can’t stop shifting his erection against the sheets. The praise still doesn’t feel entirely unearned.

“It’d be better,” Buck says, “if you would actually put it in.”

“We ain’t got time for that,” Eddie says. Then (and he’s definitely smiling—the shape of it curls around his words): “Morning, Buck.”

It’s the familiar, beloved rasp of Eddie’s voice, that mundanity paired with getting almost-fucked, that makes Buck groan with impatience and spread his thighs. A blunted ache throbs behind Buck’s sternum. It’s dirty to let himself be overpowered this way, he thinks, except for that it feels closer to being held than pinned. With Eddie—his warm skin, his steady breath—it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.

“Come on, Eddie,” he says. “Quit humping me.”

“That’s usually my line.”

“Woof,” Buck huffs, and they both laugh—Eddie’s, shaky and breathless, his cock nudging right where Buck needs him; Buck’s, a little awed over this quotidian exchange alone.

Buck noses to the side and opens his mouth against the back of Eddie’s hand, licking at the thin salty skin. He imagines there’s a vein there. He imagines he can feel the blood inside of it pulsing on his tongue—onto his tongue—and follows it to Eddie’s knuckles. Scraping his teeth over them, he tries again: “We could make time.”

“You might be off today, but I’m gonna be late for my shift,” Eddie says. He’s wrong. He’s never late. Buck hitches his ass up, insistently seeking contact.

Eddie groans, long-suffering, dropping his over-warm face into Buck’s shoulder.

“You won’t. And if you are, I—I’ll tell Cap it was my fault,” Buck coaxes.

He doesn’t have to, since Eddie’s already letting go of him, spitting into his palm, drawing away just enough to reach down, wet his dick, and guide it firmly into place. But it’s nice to beg so freely, even nicer to chase down that singular moment where Eddie gives in. To keep pushing, just because he can—because Eddie allows it, every time.

“Please don’t,” Eddie snorts. He rubs up against Buck’s hole, purposeful rather than teasing now, and Buck shivers, clenching under the contact. “I’m pretty sure that breaks the station law against oversharing, and I don’t have enough cash left for the Buck’s Big Mouth jar.”

Buck’s shameless snickering dissolves into a wavering moan as Eddie eases forward, opening him on just the tip first. Even that feels like a lot, feels fucking good, the first couple inches igniting nerves that make the backs of his thighs tingle.

“Fuck,” he says. Whimpers, really, kind of airy and tremulous.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“This what you wanted?” Eddie’s pressed all the way into him, flush with Buck’s ass. He grabs Buck around the hip to maneuver the angle, tilting him perfectly into place as if by instinct. The first firm thrust wrenches all the air from Buck’s lungs.

“Eddie,” is all he manages, naturally.

The slide is effortless, too easy with spit alone, but Eddie’s cock fills him up so well that all Buck can think is that if this is real, if this is happening, then maybe it was just meant to be right here, taking up all this space inside him, and that Eddie was meant to be here, too, the whole of his body an anchor. His hips begin to snap, hard and focused enough to get Buck panting.

“W—Wait,” Buck gasps. “Go slow.”

Eddie obliges, of course. He kisses the nape of Buck’s neck, the sore spot he’d used to bully Buck into submission before. It tickles.

“Slower,” he begs—for the first time in his life, probably. It’s a sudden, inconvenient desire, considering they really don’t have much time.

Incredulous but uneven, Eddie asks, “Seriously?”

Buck grins. “Yeah,” he says.

Eddie’s got a grounding hand clamped tight and high on Buck’s waist, fingertips hooking beneath his ribs. Buck reaches around, takes him by the wrist, and guides that hand up to his throat, choking off his own desperate moaning mostly because he knows Eddie finds it unbearably hot.

“Buck,” Eddie maybe mumbles, although it’s hard to decipher through the hazy head rush. He gives Buck a loving squeeze, but that’s not enough; after squeezing his wrist in return, Buck tugs him up until he can wrap his lips around Eddie’s forefingers and suck.

He’d asked for slow, so Eddie’s barely even fucking him anymore. His hips remain crushed to Buck’s ass; he’s rocking forward in small, tight motions like there’s any way to get deeper. There isn’t, there can’t be. Stretched raw, speared apart, Buck already feels disassembled.

Eddie shifts, and it’s—“There, right there,” Buck groans, garbled with his mouth full, but Eddie understands.

He must take it as, like, permission, or something—God, that’s a nice idea—because he presses down on the ridge of Buck’s bottom teeth and pushes his nose against Buck’s ear and gives it to him. No more of that indolent grinding; he slams in, smooth and ceaseless, unforgiving on Buck’s prostate.

“I love you,” Eddie says, hoarse with sudden emotion. “You know that?”

Fuck, yes—with Eddie’s broad, calloused palm holding his jaw fast, and Eddie’s fingers down his throat, and Eddie’s sweaty cheek brushing his, and Eddie’s big cock ripping him wide, he does. He feels it everywhere. He cries out, muffled, guttural, and deliriously pleased as the heat builds.

“Answer me,” Eddie murmurs. He slips his fingers out of Buck’s mouth. A strand of drool keeps them connected to Buck’s lower lip. One particularly rude thrust punches a strangled noise out of him.

“Fuck, Eddie, I—I know.”

“What do you know?”

“You love me,” Buck says. “I know you love me.”

“That’s right,” Eddie says, pressing a sloppy, proprietary kiss under Buck’s ear. “I love you, Buck.”

“I want—”

“You ready to come?”

“Yeah,” Buck moans, and then, “No, I—”

Somehow, with Eddie surrounding him, it hadn’t occurred to Buck how badly he needed to breathe his air and touch him, too—to kiss his mouth, taste the sweat on his mustache. To thumb at his furrowed brow. To watch him come and bask in the blazing heat of his satisfaction.

Eddie would like it—filling Buck up, flooding him inside. He does like it. Doesn’t he? Likes laying his claim, more than anything.

That’s what it really is, after all, when he gives Buck his cock, and his come, and his bite, and his hand around Buck’s throat, and every spare, hard-won minute he’s got. I love you really means that Buck’s his to keep, and Eddie even says that in his sleep sometimes, mumbled into Buck’s hair and occasionally broken by his embarrassing snoring.

He must like that Buck belongs to him. He has to. More than anything, Buck needs to look Eddie in the eye when he says everything he wants to say, so he can be absolutely certain of this. He was certain, a moment ago, but Eddie’s grasp on him is weakening, or maybe Buck’s slipping out of his hold.

Buck tries to tell him, “I want to see you.”

Ideally, Eddie will grin when Buck turns in the cage of his arms and begs: Don’t go anywhere. I love you, too. Let’s just do this forever. I can take it. He’ll make that sound he makes, that quietly amused “Hm,” that has a million meanings, all of which Buck has memorized. He’ll dutifully argue that they’d probably miss their real life eventually—plus they’ve got a mortgage to pay and Buck would get bored without the thrill of saving lives. Eddie’s good at choosing the right moment to be a little bit terrible, so he’ll grab Buck by the thighs to stifle any retort, haul him into position to pound him just right, and say something irresistibly dirty, like, Give it to me, sweetheart, show me how you come.

And Buck would. He’s already close; it’s knifing through his belly, the only palpable feeling left—

Forget an orgasm; he doesn’t even get to roll over before the whole scene washes away, taking Eddie with it.

Panting, Buck blinks the afterimage of Eddie’s hands out of his head, but he can’t banish the thought that he wouldn’t let Eddie try to convince him of anything. He’d pull him down, kiss him hard, lick his canine teeth, and plead again, and again, and again, until Eddie agreed to use his body as a dwelling; to live inside him, and nowhere else.

#asks #egs wip

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rafesbabygirlx · 2 months ago

Text

Let’s Play

Masterlist

Drew Starkey x GF Reader

Summary: Drew is almost working on his new movie Queer. He’d call you frequently not realizing he interrupted you one night now he can’t wait to come home

A/N: mirror inclusion inspired by Mirror by @folkwhoredoll Go read all their work!

Not proofread

Word count: 3k

Warnings: mdni, SMUT, teasing, sex toys, daddy kink, praising, pet names, squirting, nipple play, slight overstimulation.

"Oh fuck, yes" you moan as the dildo thrusts into you hard, the vibrations making your entire body tremble. You can’t help but pretend it’s Drew who’s miles away in Rome filming Queer. You’re so proud but in moments like these you selfishly wish he’d be with you all the time. You imagine Drew's hands on you, his lips on your neck, and it sends shivers down your spine.

You’re a shaky mess when you feel your phone start to vibrate next you and you see Drew's name on the screen. Your heart races as you answer the call, your breaths coming in short gasps. "Hi baby," you manage to say, trying to sound casual. You feel yourself getting close and know he’s just what you need to push you over the edge.

"Hey beautiful, what are you up to?" Drew's voice is smooth and deep, making you melt. You try to answer, but all that comes out is a whimper. "Baby, what's wrong?" His concern is evident, and you feel a pang of guilt for leading him on. You can barely keep yourself together. “Just relaxing, how are you? I miss youuu…ugh.” You drag out the word with an unintentional whimper. “Are you sure? What’s going on?” He raises a brow at you.

"Nothing, just...needed this," you say, gesturing to the dildo between your legs. "I miss you so much." Your voice breaks, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Drew chuckles softly. "Miss you too, babe. Let me see what you're doing." He says it casually, but you know he's dying to know. You flip the camera around, showing him the blue dildo pumping in and out of you. “Hmm, didn’t expect to be in for a treat tonight. You do really miss me. How goods that feel baby?”

“Oh shit, not as good as you daddy.” you whimper making Drew's eyes light up, and he groans. "Damn, baby, you look so good. I can't wait to be home and do this in person." You feel your clit throb at his words.

"Drew, I need you," you whimper, your body trembling with desire. "Please, I need you here." Drew's voice is low and husky. "Soon, baby, soon. But for now, let's get you cumming, huh?"

You pick up the pace, hitting a button to up the speed once more, the dildo slamming into you as you finger your clit. Drew's moans echo through the phone, and you know he's getting close too. "Fuck, baby, you're going to make me come, you’re doing so good, miss that pretty pussy so much. " he growls. He palms himself through his sweatpants.

As Drew's praise escalates, your guttural moans echo through the room, each syllable a testament to your impending orgasm. Sweat trickles down your spine, a testament to the intensity of your desire. "Cum for me, baby," Drew coaxes, his voice a seductive whisper over the phone. The air thickens with anticipation as your climax nears.

Your body convulses, limbs trembling as the orgasm crashes over you. A hoarse cry tears from your lips, your pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Drew's gasp on the other end of the line punctuates the moment, his voice dropping even lower as he murmurs, "Fuck, I can't wait to get home to you."

The camera flips back to your face, your hair plastered to your forehead, a wide grin splashed across your lips. "There's my sweet girl," Drew croons, his words a honeyed promise of what's to come. You can't help but squirm, your arousal still pulsing through your veins like a live wire. "I'll be home soon, and when I am... oh, the things I'm going to do to you." His threat is laced with promise, and you can't help but squirm in anticipation.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

1 week later

You spent the day preparing for Drew's arrival, setting up a romantic dinner and donning a new lingerie set that would make him drool. After a few hours of anticipation, you heard the door unlock and your heart raced. You lay on the couch, usually jumping to greet him, but today you stayed seated, wanting him to take in the view.

"Baby, I'm home!" he called out, but he was cut short by the sight of you. "Well, what do we have here?" he grinned, dropping his bags and making a beeline for you. He sat down, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a kiss. His long hair brushed against your skin, and you loved how it felt. You threaded your fingered through it, cherishing it knowing he’ll have to buzz it again in a couple of weeks.

"Fuck, I missed you, daddy," you whispered against his lips. "I missed my girl too," he replied, his hands roaming up your body. He lifted you up with one arm and carried you to your bedroom, tossing you onto the bed. You couldn't wait to have him all over you, and you watched him, biting your lip as he stripped down to his boxers.

"Baby, I need you," you pleaded. “I need you too pretty girl but I’ve been thinking about trying something for the past week and we’re not doing anything until I get to.”

"What is it?" you asked, your voice husky with desire. He knelt on the bed, leaning in close to your face. "Where's your toys?" you took a deep breath at his words, gesturing to your nightstand. He opened the drawer and revealed a plethora of sex toys, chuckling to himself.

"Hmmm, let's see..." He pulled out the blue dildo from your FaceTime call and a vibrator in the shape of a tongue. "Take those panties off for me, sweetheart. Leave the rest on." You complied, and he settled at the top of the bed, his back against the headboard. As you got undressed, he pulled you between his legs, your back flush against his chest.

He took your feet and placed them on the outside of his thighs, admiring the view in the mirror. "Look at you, Angel," he whispered, "the most perfect pussy in the world, all for me." He’s never been so thankful to have a full length mirror on the wall at the end of the bed.

"Please, Drew," you begged, turning your head to plant kisses on his neck. "Easy, baby girl, you'll be feeling good in a second," he replied, running the blue toy through your folds and getting it wet. You gripped his thigh from the sensation, moaning softly.

He took the toy down, circling your entrance, tormenting you with every 360-degree movement. You whined in anticipation, your hand still on his thigh and the other has reached up behind him to tangle in his hair. "Ready, baby?" he asked. "Yes, fuck yes, please, Drew," you replied.

He slowly entered the toy into your hole, all the way down to the buttons, and you felt it touch your sweet spot in the back. He pumped it in and out of you, slow and agonizingly, making you grip his hair harder. He slowed down, keeping it all the way in, and then turned the device, threading it into you. He increased the speed, and now full force, he let it ravage you.

You were a whimpering mess between his legs, your body convulsing. He trailed his hands up your body, kneading your breasts, and playing with your nipples. "Drew, oh my god," you gasped. He kissed you passionately, your tongues battling and your breaths coming in short pants.

When he broke the kiss, he took the tongue-shaped vibrator and inserted it into your mouth. You knew exactly what to do, sucking on it, getting it wet. He then brought it down to your clit, brushing against it ever so slightly. The light sensation had you bucking up toward it, but Drew pulled it away. "Uh-uh, baby, let me have my way with you."

You nodded, no words coming out from being stuffed so full from the dildo. He lowered the vibrator again, turning it on and matching the intensity of the dildo. Your whole body convulsed, and Drew still hadn't taken his eyes off you in the mirror.

He grabbed your chin, gently turning your head to face the mirror. "Open your eyes and look at yourself, baby girl," he said, demanding. You complied, scanning his face and then looking down at your pussy, seeing where you were being filled up. Even from afar, you could see your arousal dripping down your ass onto the bed.

"Look at how fucking sexy you are, my girl," he whispered, "you're such a slut for me. We should play with these more often. You're selfish for trying to hide them from me. I know they can’t compete with my cock but the show you’re putting in right now is gonna make my cum in my boxers just from the sight of you.” He increased the speed of the toys, and you felt yourself getting close.

"I'm gonna cum," you cry out, he’s pushing the vibrator harder into you. You cry out in pain and pleasure, overwhelmed by the sensation. The orgasm builds in your belly like a storm, threatening to burst forth at any moment. Drew's hand slides down to your breast, his fingers rolling your nipple between them as he kisses a trail up your neck.

You can feel it bubbling inside you, and then you're hurtling over the edge. Your body convulses, your nails digging into Drew's thighs as you arch off his chest. A torrent of liquid spills out from you, soaking the sheets and leaving you shaking and gasping for air.

"That's right, baby," Drew mutters, not relenting in his stimulation. "Let it go. You're fucking unbelievable." He continues to work the toys until you collapse back onto his chest, panting and spent. He pulls the toys from you setting them on the nightstand.

As you lie there, Drew strokes your stomach with one hand and wraps the other arm around you, holding you close. You cling to him, kissing up and down his arm. Finally, you sit up and turn to straddle him, your eyes locked on his.

"I've missed you so much," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

"I've missed you too, beautiful," Drew replies, his eyes warm with affection. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling. "Now, let me give you your welcome home present," you tease, reaching down to unbutton his pants.

Drew's eyes flare with anticipation as you pull him out, his breath catching in his throat. "Oh, fuck yes," he groans, his hands grabbing onto your hips as you lower yourself onto him.

You positioned yourself over him, feeling his hardness against your wetness. "Ready for this, baby?" Drew asked, his eyes burning with anticipation. You nodded, your breath coming in short pants.

He grasped your hips, guiding you onto him slowly. You felt him fill you completely, stretching your walls. You moaned softly, your eyes never leaving his.

As you started to move, Drew's hands roamed up your body, cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples. You arched into his touch, your body responding to his every move.

"You feel so good, baby," Drew whispered, his voice husky with desire. "So tight and wet for me." You moaned in agreement, your pace quickening as you rode him harder.

Drew reached up, grabbing your breasts, and squeezed them gently. "Yes, baby, fuck me hard," he urged, his eyes locked on yours. You complied, your body slamming down on him, your walls clenching around him.

As you built toward another orgasm, Drew's hands moved lower, his fingers teasing your clit. You cried out, your body convulsing around him, as you came again.

Drew grunted, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum," he warned, his body tensing beneath you. You rode him through his orgasm, feeling him spill inside you.

As you collapsed onto his chest, panting and sated, Drew wrapped his arms around you. "Welcome home, baby," you whispered, your voice filled with love and lust. He smiled, feeling content pulling you in a little tighter.

#drew starkey #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x female reader #my works ✨

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sushiyuzu · 4 months ago

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a lingerie as your birthday gift

nanami kento x fem!reader

warning: soft smut. minors dni!

toji f. version gojo s. version

you weren’t sure what to expect when nanami handed you the neatly wrapped box. he had always been composed, always so restrained, that you never imagined him picking out something so... intimate. but as you unwrapped the gift, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of the soft, luxurious black lace lingerie nestled inside.

"nanami..." you breathed, glancing up at him, but his expression remained unreadable. he was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that same calm, steady gaze that never seemed to falter. though, there was something different about the way he looked at you now — something that made your pulse quicken.

“it’s your birthday,” he said simply, his deep voice sending a shiver through you. “i thought i’d get you something special.”

you couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks as you ran your fingers over the delicate lace. it was stunning, elegant, exactly the type of thing you’d expect him to choose. refined, but undeniably sensual.

"you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to," he added after a moment, his tone still calm, but there was an edge of something more beneath it. something... expectant.

you swallowed, feeling the tension in the air. his gaze was intense, unwavering, and it sent heat coursing through your veins.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head. "i want to."

his eyes darkened ever so slightly at your words, and your heart skipped a beat.

with slightly trembling hands, you took the lingerie and headed to the bathroom to change. the room was quiet, save for the sound of your own breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as you slipped out of your clothes and into the lace.

the black lingerie fit like a second skin, hugging your body in all the right places. you glanced at yourself in the mirror, the sheer elegance of the lace contrasting with the sensuality it evoked. nanami had impeccable taste — of course, he did.

taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom. when you returned to the room, nanami was still there, still leaning against the wall, but his posture had shifted slightly. his gaze was sharp, more focused now as it swept over your figure.

his eyes lingered on you for a long moment, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks under the weight of his attention. but it wasn’t just his gaze — it was the way he looked at you, as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. as though nothing else in the world existed.

“come here,” he said, his voice low, but there was a note of command in it that sent a shiver through you.

your feet moved before your mind could catch up, drawn to him like a magnet. the closer you got, the more you could feel the tension between you, thick and electrifying. when you finally stood in front of him, you could feel the heat radiating off his body, even though he hadn’t touched you yet.

nanami’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. he was silent, watching you with that same intense gaze, but there was a hunger in his eyes now — a slow-burning desire that made your breath catch in your throat.

“you look beautiful,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through your entire body.

your heart pounded in your chest, the compliment catching you off guard. he wasn’t the type to offer such words lightly, and hearing them from him made your knees weak.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

nanami reached out then, his fingers brushing against the lace at your waist, his touch so light it was almost teasing. but even that small contact was enough to make your skin tingle, your pulse quickening in response.

"this," he said quietly, his hand sliding up your side, tracing the curve of your body, "is perfect on you."

you shivered at his touch, your breath catching as his fingers continued to explore, slow and deliberate. he was always so controlled, always so composed, but now... now, there was a tension in his movements, a restraint that you knew could break at any moment.

"turn around," he murmured, his voice still calm, but there was an edge to it now — a quiet intensity that made your stomach flip.

you did as he asked, turning your back to him. the anticipation was almost too much as you felt him step closer, his presence like a storm gathering behind you. his hands settled on your hips, firm but gentle, and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

"you know," he said softly, his voice like velvet in your ear, "i don’t usually indulge in things like this."

your pulse raced, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours, so close yet still not close enough.

"but for you," he continued, his lips brushing lightly against your skin, "i make exceptions."

the words sent a jolt of desire through you, and before you could even respond, nanami’s hands slid up your sides, pulling you back against him. the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the firmness of his chest against your back, made your breath hitch.

he tilted his head down, his lips grazing the curve of your neck, and you could feel the restraint in every movement. he was holding back, but barely. the tension was palpable, the heat between you building with every second.

"i want you to keep this on," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "i want to see how it looks when i have you."

your heart raced at his words, and when he turned you around to face him again, the look in his eyes was enough to steal your breath away. there was a quiet, simmering intensity in his gaze, a hunger that you could feel down to your very core.

nanami wasn’t one for games, and you knew that when he wanted something, he would take it.

my socials: tiktok twitter wattpad

support me: kofi <3

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vixensp1ce · 2 months ago

Note

mmm blade & demon fucking perhaps?

fem!reader \ kinktober

imagine you - a weak, powerless human, requiring the services of a demon for some reason.

you find a summoning ritual from the sketchy magick (the lady specifically insists it's spelt with a 'k', and frankly you don't know the difference) shop down the street.

you're surprised (read: terrified) when it works, and even more so when he presses his claws against the force field and it holds.

"those cloves don't do anything," he rumbles, amber eyes aglow. you feel like you're about to piss yourself.

you tell the demon what you want. and he scoffs.

"you summoned me... for this? humans have such insignificant desires."

you bristle. it's not insignificant, you went to all the trouble of summoning him - but he's already moving on to tell you what he needs. an exchange of energy. the oldest, most carnal exchange of energy there is.

he bares his teeth. "sex."

you hesitate, and he chuckles, low and dangerous. "i can't hurt you, if you're worried about that."

so you agree to the contract. your energy in exchange for whatever it is that you want.

he coalesces into a form that's almost human - long, black hair, well-muscled, but skin laced with golden veins and the same molten, smouldering amber eyes.

he steps over the protective markings, and that's when it finally hits you that you've just signed a contract with a demon. you take a step back.

his eyes track you like a bird of prey, and in the low light, you could've sworn he wet his lips.

"wh-what should i call you?" you stammer out, trying to put on a brave front. he stalks towards you slowly, like a great cat, taking his time to take in your room around him.

"hmm." he picks up a trinket from your table, rolls it between his fingers. "blade will do."

"blade- ow." the back of your knees bump into the edge of your bed. you glance back, and when you look up again, blade is there, right in front of you.

"never turn your back on a demon." he relishes your yelp when his sharp nails catch on your skin, shoving you into the mattress and trapping you there.

"convenient you held the ritual in your bedroom." he buries his nose into the side of your neck - you smelled sweet and ripe, like all humans did, thrumming with life and energy that he thrived off of. "did you want to get fucked by a demon?"

"n-no," you protest, desperately trying to will away the goosebumps as blade ghosts his teeth over the vein under your jaw. "just take what you need and go away."

he makes an amused noise. "you taste like lies."

the demon's dick is similarly laced with golden veins - hot, heavy, and pulsing against your ribbed walls even without him moving. you can't hold back your shuddering moan as blade pushes in, not unkindly, your own nails gripping onto him so tightly they leave marks.

"so- big-" you gasp, back arching and walls fluttering desperately, trying to get used to him. "too big-"

he growls. the sound is so full of desire that it sends a jolt of arousal into your stomach, and you can feel yourself leaking around his cock.

"humans." he bares his teeth, and you think he might be mad if not for his twitching dick inside of you. "so small, so weak, so warm."

he thrusts into you with all the restraint of a supernatural creature, but it isn't enough to stop his tip from kissing your cervix or his curious golden veins from scraping against the softest parts of you.

you're a tearful, shaking mess before too long, cumming so hard around his cock you can see stars (or maybe it's just his amber eyes in the dark).

but he grins down into your face, all sharp teeth and mirthless joy. the more energy you give him, the more blessings he can give you - wouldn't you like a little more of the gifts he can bestow on you?

#kinktober #hsr x reader smut #x reader smut #blade smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #star rail #hsr blade #blade hsr #hsr blade smut #blade hsr smut

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artyandink · 19 days ago

Text

cheque xyz 4 — steel nerves

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, post shower!dean, reader thirsting over Dean, very not professional stuff, Dean being a thirst trap, smut, besties being besties, attempted murder by proxy, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

STW: mentions of smut, masturbation (f. + m.), imagined smut

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Shameless by Camila Cabello

You were the President.

POTUS.

A symbol of feminism and reform.

But you were being kept awake by Dean Winchester, your bodyguard, with whom you should have a very strict, professional relationship, but no, you didn’t, instead you had thoughts in your head that had turned from almost getting shot to what would go on below the belt.

Oh, hell, you were going insane.

“Shit.” You breathed, turning over in bed before finally coming to rest on your back, staring up at the ceiling— ugh, when would this stop? The thirsting, seeing him all sexy, and you were so wound up your hand took over for itself, inching towards your panties, inch by inch.

Your career had been built on discipline, control, and unwavering focus. And yet Dean had managed to undo it all. It wasn’t just his looks—though, God knew, that man could have been carved from marble—it was his presence. He was steady and unflinching, a reassuring constant in a life full of chaos. And maybe that’s why your thoughts kept circling back to him. He made you feel safe, but worse than that, he made you feel alive.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it true.

Dean Winchester had faced down danger in all its forms: gunfire, car chases, and even a stint in the country’s most secure prison. He was supposed to be unshakable, calm under pressure, immune to the chaos around him. But here he was, lying in the dark on a too-small bed in his room, wide awake, because of you.

You, Madam President. The most powerful woman in the country. His boss.

And the single most maddening person to ever walk the earth.

Dean groaned softly, dragging a hand over his face. He was supposed to protect you, not lie awake picturing you in every way but presidential. He should’ve been running through security protocols or strategies, but no. His brain was stuck on the curve of your smile, the soft way you’d looked at him earlier in the day, and worse — much worse — the way you’d looked that night in a fluffy white robe.

That damn robe.

Dean turned over on the bed, punching his pillow in frustration. “Shit.” The fabric of his plain t-shirt stuck to his chest as he shifted, the heat in the room matching the heat in his veins. He’d been trying to ignore it for hours, but the memory kept playing like a highlight reel he couldn’t shut off.

He hadn’t meant to linger in the doorway when he knocked earlier, but when you’d opened the door, barefoot and wrapped in that ridiculously soft-looking robe, his brain had short-circuited. The way it cinched around your waist, the way your skin glowed under the soft light of your room, and the way you’d looked up at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise — it was enough to make his chest tighten and his pulse quicken.

You hadn’t even done anything overtly suggestive. You’d just stood there, looking at him with those sharp, intelligent eyes that always seemed to see right through him, and it had been enough to unravel him. He’d barely managed to stammer out a question about your safety, and when you’d assured him you were fine, he knew he should’ve turned and left immediately.

But he hadn’t.

You should’ve stopped your hand from slowly pulling down your panties, thighs rubbing together in a last ditch attempt at friction, but nothing came, obviously, other than a mild relief from the ache and the throb you were experiencing… like, 24/7. It made you think that Bella and Steph were right, that you really were down bad for Dean, even though you were very adamant to say no.

You gasped softly when two of your fingers found your clit, rubbing in small circles, your head pressing back against the pillow and thanking the thick walls as a small moan slipped past your lips after, your thumb taking over as those two fingers dragged up and down your cunt, imagining Dean whispering in your ear, either sweet nothings or dirty words, pushing two fingers into you so fast it made your head dizzy. And you didn’t even need to slow down.

“Dean,” The name slipped past your lips just as your vision turned hazy for three seconds before clearing, thanking whatever deity that Dean wasn’t sleeping outside of the door and instead back in his own room so he couldn’t hear you.

You blamed him.

You so blamed him for being so sexy, with that deep voice that made your panties soak, green eyes that pierced you to your very core, the way his strong hands would grab you and pull you to safety in the face of danger and how the corner of those pouty lips would quirk up every time he was amused. The water from the hose dripping down his chest as he watered the flower.

You probably shouldn’t sexualise him watering a flowerbed.

And you definitely shouldn’t sexualise his job.

Ok, Dean couldn’t exactly help the low groan and the way the heel of his palm began to grind on his cock over his sweats, other beginning to work those and his boxers down over his hips and ass so he could free himself, just imagining you on top of him, blouse unbuttoned just enough to admire those gorgeous tits, skirt or trousers — he wasn’t picky, it’d be ripped off anyway — off so he could fixate on that glistening, pretty pussy.

This was so wrong. Fuck it, we ball.

His thumb traced the vein on the base of his cock, his jaw clenching and the veins on his neck popping as he let out a strangled moan through gritted teeth, hand wrapping around his base and moving up and down slowly. God, if it was you, whether it be your mouth or cunt, moving on him like this, he’d probably go insane. Oh, Lord save him, he already was.

He blamed you.

Dean blamed you for the moans and grunts leaving his mouth as he pumped his cock in his fist, hips bucking up off the bed, eyelashes fluttering against the apples of his cheeks as his free hand gripped the sheets so tight he was almost fully sure they’d rip in his blunt nails. It played in his head, seeing you in your pyjamas, wearing that robe, the little Spitfire you were when he first arrived in chains and shackles.

He’d never seen a hot President. At least not one like you.

Your fingers were pumping in and out of your slick pussy, which was embarrassingly tight— probably from the hours spent campaigning and stressing over votes and legislation planning, not to mention multiple assassination attempts over the past two weeks that Dean had miraculously saved you from.

The image of him shoving that first hitman forward played in front of your head, and you wanted him to do that to you on a mattress instead.

Hell, you’d thank him.

“S’good, Dean, shit—” Little praises went to midair as your thumb worked over your clit, your fingers curled, only to just miss the spot inside you by one fucking centimetre, cause your fingers weren’t long enough. At least you made up for it by rolling your nipple between your forefinger and thumb through the fabric of your tank top, the friction against the soft fabric making you shudder.

Oh, you really shouldn’t be doing this, but you knew you couldn’t stop thinking about him, the way his eyes would rake over your body when you wore that robe— ugh, were you down bad and you couldn’t stop.

With a soft cry, you felt yourself come around his your fingers, panting a little when you realised that you’d just come to the thought of your bodyguard. Oh, Jesus.

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the come on his hand, cursing himself. Shit, shit, shit. Did he just touch himself to you— better yet, did he just come to the thought of you? This was bad, he wasn’t meant to be thinking of you like that, let alone touching himself to his thought about you. Sure, you’d look so pretty riding him, but no. No.

He grabbed a tissue, groaning as he slid his sweats and boxers back on to clean up the mess before chucking it to the very bottom of the bin and bundling the sheets to throw them in the laundry basket. “Fuckin’ idiot, Dean, she’d never think’a you like that.”

Would you?

He didn’t know, you just seemed so… far away. Unattainable, if anyone was to gain your hand it would be someone like some wealthy, full of shit politician.

Not him.

He came from a poor background, where sawed-offs and tales of blood made up most of his childhood, as well as the drone to keep Sammy safe, make sure Sammy has enough food, a warm bed— he’d never wanted anything for himself until now. Until you, until freedom.

The morning sunlight poured into the room as you sat at your desk, brushing over the papers in front of you with little interest. It wasn’t your work occupying your thoughts today. No, it was the conversation you’d been rehearsing in your head for hours. You wanted to visit your family. You needed it—needed the familiarity of their voices, the warmth of their hugs, and a brief respite from the chaos of your new role. And the fact that you touched yourself to the thought of Dean last night.

When the door opened, and Dean walked in, his towering frame filling the space, you straightened your back and set your pen down. His presence always had that effect on you, like you had to pull yourself together whenever he was around.

"Morning," he said, his voice gruff as usual, his sharp green eyes scanning the room out of habit. He wore his usual suit, but the top button of his shirt was undone, his tie slightly loosened as if he’d already fought off one disaster this morning. It gave him that rugged, commanding aura you found all too distracting.

He bit his tongue to avoid a blush, to avoid a raging boner too.

"Dean," you started, trying to sound casual, even though your nerves had already started buzzing. "I need to talk to you about something."

He quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms across his broad chest. "What’s on your mind, Madam President?"

You rolled your eyes at the title, though the corners of your lips twitched. "I want to visit my family next weekend."

Dean’s reaction was immediate and expected. His arms unfolded, and his expression shifted into one of disbelief. "No," he said firmly, the word coming out almost like a growl.

You blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"No," he repeated, stepping closer, his tone resolute. "It’s too dangerous. You know that. After everything that’s happened—"

"I’m aware of what’s happened," you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. You stood, meeting his gaze head-on. "But I’m the President of the United States, Dean. I don’t need your permission to see my family."

He exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair. "It’s not about permission. It’s about keeping you alive."

"And I appreciate that, but I can’t let fear dictate my life," you argued, stepping closer to him. "I haven’t seen them in months. My mom, my dad—my little sister, Dean. They need to see me. I need to see them."

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. When he turned back to you, his eyes were burning with something you couldn’t quite place. "You think I don’t get that?" he said, his voice lower now, more intense. "You think I don’t understand what it’s like to want normal, to want family? But this isn’t normal. You’re not just some woman visiting her parents. You’re the goddamn President, and there’s a target on your back."

"I know that," you said, your tone softening slightly. "But I trust you to keep me safe, Dean. Isn’t that your job?"

His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence. Then, in one swift motion, he moved closer, crowding you against the wall.

Your breath hitched as his hands came up, planting on either side of your head, boxing you in. His body was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent—a mix of clean soap and faint cologne—invading your senses. His green eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in them enough to make your heart pound.

"Do you think I don’t take that seriously?" he said, his voice low and rough. "Keeping you safe? It’s all I think about, every damn second. So don’t stand there and tell me to just ‘trust’ that it’ll be fine. Because if something happens to you, I—" He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours.

Your heart was practically slamming against your ribcage now, your mind screaming at the proximity, at the way his gaze kept flickering to your lips. Is he going to kiss me? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying, and you couldn’t stop your breath from quickening.

You wanted to say something, anything, but your throat felt like it had closed up. All you could do was stare back at him, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence, the weight of his body so close to yours making it hard to think straight.

And then, just as suddenly as he’d crowded you, Dean’s expression shifted. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he let out a slow breath, his hands dropping to his sides.

"No," he muttered, almost to himself, before stepping back. The space between you felt like a sudden, cold void.

You blinked, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had just passed through the room. "Dean—"

"Fine," he interrupted, his voice flat now, his face unreadable. "We’ll go. But I’m doubling security, and you’re not leaving my sight the entire trip."

It wasn’t the answer you’d expected, and it took you a moment to catch up. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah," he said, already turning toward the door. "I’ll handle the details. Just… don’t pull something like this again."

His hand was on the doorknob when you found your voice again. "Dean."

He paused, his back still to you.

"Thank you," you said softly.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. There was something there—something raw and unspoken—but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he gave you a small nod and walked out, leaving you alone with the echoes of your racing heart and the feeling. That feeling.

The sun hung high in the sky as you stood in your parents’ backyard, the familiar scent of freshly mowed grass and blooming flowers enveloping you in a blanket of nostalgia. Your father, Mark, was at the grill with Ryan, the two of them animatedly discussing something about football, while Austin darted around the yard with an energy only a twelve-year-old could muster. Your mom, Odette, was inside with Wyatt, cooing at the baby as Eden leaned against the picnic table beside you, sipping lemonade.

It was peaceful here. Normal. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe. The weight of the presidency, the looming threats, and the constant tension all seemed to melt away in the warmth of your family’s love. You turned to Eden, who smiled knowingly at you.

“You look like you’ve needed this,” she said softly, brushing a stray hair from her face.

“More than I can even say,” you replied, sipping your own lemonade. “It’s been… a lot.”

Eden gave you a playful nudge. “And how’s it going with the bodyguard? What was his name again? Dean?”

Your cheeks warmed immediately, and you looked away, focusing on Austin’s wild antics as a distraction. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Eden teased, leaning closer. “Ryan told me he’s practically glued to your side. And he’s hot. Tell me you haven’t at least thought about it.”

Before you could answer—or even come up with a deflection—the sound of a distant car engine caught your attention. You turned instinctively, scanning the driveway where Dean stood near the gate, ever-watchful. He hadn’t said much since you’d arrived, just a few gruff instructions about staying within sight and letting him handle security.

Eden followed your gaze, her eyebrows raising slightly. “He’s not just hot. He’s smoldering. How do you even focus on work?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words never came. A sharp, deafening crack split the air, and time seemed to slow.

Gunfire.

Dean moved like a blur, faster than you’d ever seen anyone react. He was sprinting toward you before your brain even registered what was happening. His shout came as he dove in front of you. “Get down!”

The impact of his body hitting yours sent you stumbling backward, and Eden’s scream echoed in your ears. You hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs. Above you, Dean grunted, a low, pained sound, and you saw the crimson bloom of blood spreading across his side. Your heart stopped.

“Dean!” you gasped, scrambling to sit up. “You’re hit!”

“Stay down!” he barked, his voice a growl as he clutched his side. He drew his gun with his free hand and fired toward the direction of the shot—a figure in the treeline, partially obscured by the shadows. “Mark, Ryan—get everyone inside! Now!”

Your father and brother didn’t hesitate, shouting for the rest of the family to move. You watched as they ushered Eden and Austin inside, your mother clutching Wyatt tightly to her chest. But you couldn’t move. Your feet felt rooted to the spot as you stared at Dean, who was now kneeling, using the picnic table for cover as he returned fire.

“I said get inside!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours, fierce and unyielding.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m not leaving you.”

Dean swore under his breath, but there was no time to argue. The shooter was still firing, bullets splintering the wooden table and chipping the patio stones around you. Dean’s gun clicked empty, and he cursed again, fumbling for a spare magazine.

Without thinking, you reached for his backup weapon, the one he always kept holstered on his hip. Your hands trembled as you gripped the cool metal, the weight of it foreign and daunting.

Dean’s eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping,” you said, your voice steadier now. “Tell me what to do.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and something that almost looked like pride. Then he nodded sharply. “Safety’s off. Point, aim, and squeeze. Don’t jerk the trigger. Focus on the target.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you peeked around the table. The shooter was still in the treeline, barely visible through the foliage. Your hands shook as you raised the gun, the sights aligning on the dark figure.

“Breathe,” Dean said, his voice calm despite the chaos. “You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

You inhaled deeply, steadying your hands as best you could. The shooter fired again, the sound sharp and jarring, but you didn’t flinch. You squeezed the trigger, the recoil jolting your arms as the shot rang out.

Dean fired again too, having reloaded, his movements precise despite the blood staining his side. Between the two of you, the shooter faltered, retreating further into the trees. Dean didn’t hesitate. He rose to his feet, grabbing the edge of the picnic table for support, and turned to you.

“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind. “Keep that gun ready, just in case.”

“Dean, you’re hurt—”

“Stay here,” he repeated, cutting you off. “I mean it.”

And then he was gone, moving toward the treeline with a determination that sent a chill down your spine. You wanted to follow, to help, but you knew better than to disobey him now. Instead, you stayed crouched behind the table, gripping the gun tightly and scanning the yard for any sign of danger.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and Dean emerged from the trees, dragging the shooter by the back of his jacket. The man was groaning, his face bloodied and his hands bound with a zip tie.

Dean’s expression was grim as he approached, his eyes flicking to you briefly. “It’s over,” he said, his voice rough. “You did good.”

Relief washed over you, and your knees buckled as you sank to the ground, the gun slipping from your fingers. Dean dropped the shooter unceremoniously onto the patio, his attention immediately shifting to you.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling beside you despite the obvious pain it caused him. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “You’re the one who got shot.”

“I’ll live,” he said with a faint smirk, though his face was pale. “You? You were a goddamn natural out there.”

The praise warmed you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the reality of what had just happened. Your family was safe, but the thought of how close you’d come to losing them—or Dean—was almost too much to bear.

Dean seemed to sense your thoughts. He reached out, his hand settling gently on your shoulder. “We’ll get through this,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded again, leaning into his touch for just a moment before the sound of sirens in the distance reminded you that the fight wasn’t over yet. But for now, you let yourself believe him. Dean always kept his promises.

You were a politician, not a medic.

Dean wasn’t gonna apologise for taking a bullet for you, you were the president and he was your bodyguard— a controversial bodyguard, since you’d hired him when he was still in the ADX, but was he gonna complain? No. But he hadn’t saved you purely cause he was fearful for his job, he liked you, for some odd reason.

So he was here, guiding you on how to re-bandage a bullet wound in his side, which could be added onto the list of things he’d taught you, like how to thrown a grown man over your shoulder and how to shoot. With it came a bunch of praise between the instructions, cause you got really nervous, he knew that.

You wouldn’t complain about the view either. He had built muscle, smooth skin, an amulet that hung from his neck, along with abs and biceps— oh, he’d make you drool. But he was your bodyguard, so you had to keep on listening to his instructions on how to clean and wrap this shit up. Yeah— yeah.

Honestly, seeing you all nervous to bandage up what — in his experience — was a small bullet wound, but in his and your defence, his line of work kind of consisted of everyday death in gruesome ways, so he’ll cut you some slack. Even if it was funny. But ok, ok, he’ll stop now, just kind of let his eyes drift on how pretty you were, how gorgeous, cause he’s never had a hot president before. Sweet.

"Fuck," he hissed, then chuckled— oh, shit, that hurt, but it was just, y’know, antiseptic, he was used to it, "ok, s’ good.” That jawline that could cut steel clenched slightly, but he didn’t move— except those delicious, lip-bite inducing abs rippling.

“Good, sweetheart.” Well, he had to be encouraging, it’s your first time bandaging. But it’s funny.

“You sure? Cause you just kinda made that sound and I have no idea what I’m doing, so…” the cloth with antiseptic was held aloft, having been snatched away when you first pressed it to his skin. You couldn’t trust yourself.

This was— really, really bad but also kind of cute. He shook his head, chuckling quietly, almost rolling his eyes, “yeah, I’m sure.” The words were said so calmly, like it wasn’t a big deal that you kept removing the cloth whenever it touched his wound, it wasn’t like he was in major pain or anything and it didn’t even phase his face. His eyes fluttered open to look at you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Go ahead, press it down. I promise I won’t move.”

“Yeah, I see.” You nodded, looking like you were scared of the cloth. “It kinda worries me how you’re acting like this is an everyday Tuesday.” Toned stomach, hot body, toned everything, sculpted biceps, panty-dropping everything—

“Hey, when you do what I do, it does become everyday Tuesday. Besides, it’s not that bad." He shook his head as you both just held the cloth against his abs, but he was paying more attention on how focused you looked on his wound and the bandage, cause it was cute, or maybe he was just focused on the fact you were touching him. Yeah, probably that.

But his abs were flexing slightly beneath your touch, well, beneath the cloth as he watched you watching your own hands hold the cloth, a soft amused smile on his lips.

You looked up, saw his smile and rolled your eyes with a laugh— the little shit. “Ugh— stop it. I’m a politician, not… whatever y’all called yourselves in the shady side. Never knew I’d have to help patch up my bodyguard.” Dick.

“I suppose you have a good point.” He chuckled, he had that same, sweet and sexy voice to match his charming, handsome face. "You weren’t meant to have to patch me up though." He shook his head, "suppose that’s part of my job description."

He couldn’t help but admire you and your features, pretty face, pretty eyes, soft laugh— oh. Pretty voice too, but of course. "I can take over if you need me to?" He’d ask softly, but honestly, he’d rather just have you continue.

“I’ve started this, I’m gonna damn well finish it.” You snorted, then looked through the medical materials— ooh, that looked like a lot, and so you cringed a little, looking between the wound, bandaging materials and him. “What— the fuck do I use next?”

The wound in question was on his lower left side, he’d definitely have another scar to add to the collection on his body, but it wasn’t that deep. Dean watched you, his lips twitching into another small smile at your tone of voice.

His eyes followed you looking between the wound and materials, and he reached forward, grabbing a gauze pad and handing it you, while he held a bandage roll of your choice in his other hand. "You’ve gotta put the pad over first then you wrap the bandage around." He explained, like a teacher would to a student, which really, he was.

“Ok, thank you,” You smiled — at least that was out of the way — so you took the pad and pressed it to his wound just firm enough, wrapping the bandages firm, not like a delicate flower, you knew that wouldn’t compress shit. “Ok? That good?”

Dean inhaled the moment you pressed the gauze to his wound, but he didn’t pull away, cause he was used to having stuff pressed, pushed, shoved, stabbed, sewn into his skin. He felt the slight burn of pressure, but he was fine.

That sounded dark.

He looked at your handy work, you were a damn quick learner, his own hand grabbing the bandage to help you to wrap. "Good job, sweetheart, you done well for your first time." Maybe he was a little proud— actually, he actually was.

“Really?” You looked up, then bit your lip excitedly, giggling— ok, that probably was just the Dean Winchester effect, giggling like a schoolgirl. “How do I, y’know, secure it? Stop it from falling?”

That sight definitely did something to him. He wasn’t about to turn on his president, but the giggling, fuck, had him biting the inside of his cheek. He just loved the sight and he was definitely going to be getting that image stuck in his brain.

Once you were done wrapping the bandage around the gauze pad, the only thing that kept it in place was tape. "You need some tape to secure it." He guided your hands to tape the bandage, grinning.

Too late, already turned on— you knew exactly what your sheets would be messy from this night. “Ok, is that done?” You asked, your hands springing off as if any move you made would make the bandage combust… or somethin’.

The little moment you moved your hands off like that made him chuckle, his head shaking a little. He noticed you were, you know, turned on-ish, his tongue darting out of his lips to wet them as he spoke. "Yeah, yeah, it is." Pretty good.

He pressed his own hand against the bandage, before looking up at you, his eyes flicking down and up again, "you did a damn good job, sweetheart. For real."

“Good.” You nodded, then swallowed, rubbing your neck. “I should’ve taken your advice, going to meet my family was a bad idea. You got shot out of it. I’m sorry.”

Dean had been able to put two and two together with the moment you mentioned family, and with the mention of getting shot, he knew. Your parents didn’t have a good reaction to you becoming president, it wasn’t that surprising to him either. "You’re fine. Not your fault I got shot, sweetheart."

He said it genuinely, his tongue flicking out again to wet his lips, like a bad habit he had. "You needed to see them, even if it went to hell, you needed to see." He shook his head.

“I still care, y’know. About you.” You sighed, tilting your head. “Even if you tell me not to worry, I’ll… I’ll always worry. You’re human too.” That right there was a president who gave a damn.

God, you’re gonna make him do something. That sentence alone made his heart flutter, made a small smile form on his face, it was a gentle one. Hearing someone actually care about his wellbeing, made him feel things.

He was speechless for a moment, just looking at you, and that statement really sunk in. Yeah… he wasn’t used to people caring this much anymore. He always cared about someone in his line of work, but he? He didn’t really expect to be cared for. "Thank you." He said gently, honestly, sincerely.

"S’ alright. Didn't want to fuck it up." You smiled awkwardly, then felt the distance close, his hand going up, but at the same moment you jumped a little, he pulled away to check you were ok.

Did he mess it up? Was he gonna get fired? Oh, shit —

Then he felt your lips on his; gentle, soft, nothing like the kisses he'd had with girls before. Your cheek— god, your skin was so soft, his fingers so calloused, he really shouldn't be here right now, not when you were way out of his league. Extremely, you were the President, and he was your bodyguard, and—

Ok, your lips tasted like coffee. His brain could shut down now.

It was soft, and you let out a small gasp as you held him tighter and closer, tighter and closer. That little gasp was like music to his ears, that quiet sound was what he wanted to hear — he couldn't resist, he could feel the warmth from you, from your soft lips against his. It felt too good, like some sort of forbidden fruit. He just couldn't stop tasting it.

It's just a gentle kiss, slow kiss and his tongue was staying in his mouth for the time being, but his nose just slightly bumped against yours. There was a quiet groan that escaped him, that just felt too good.

Your lips pressed soft and slow againsthis, small stamps on him that told him he was yours- he couldn't be anyone else's now, he just couldn't, not when he had a hit of you, when he was crazy for you and he'd continue to be for the rest of his life, damn it. And each one got more feather light, less of a claim and more of a brush, but it still sent his neurons firing and his every muscle shivering underneath your gentle touch on his bare chest, amulet hanging on his collarbones.

"Ma'am..." Dean began when he finallyopened his eyes to meet yours— how the fuck does an ex-hitman go from the Supermax to this? Well, if this what it's like, he'd never complain again. He'd never want to leave anyway, as if he could resist your gorgeous ass. Your thumb rubbed his chin, looking so pretty with your cheeks flushed and lips all kiss-swollen, you were like his own angel. From the moment you'd ordered his shackles to be taken off him, you were his guardian angel.

"Shh," The sound came so gentle from your lips, we'll talk about it soon, I promise, we— we just both need to get some sleep."

You both laughed at the notion, grinning ike idiots, or like two teenagers after realising that they liked each other wher everyone implied they did. Idiots in a nutshell.

"Yeah, gotta hit the hay." Dean grinned, the backs of his fingers brushing the apple of your cheek before he cupped it his palm warm against your cheek. You couldn't help it; your eyes fluttered slightly, though you still let the smile play vaguely on your lips. He leaned forward, his hand cradling the back of your head as his own lips met your forehead preathing in, letting the kiss linger before he pulled away. "G'night, sweetheart. l've got you, aight?"

You couldn't help the broad smile butterflies, and even though you felt like you were in a Wattpad story, you'd take it all a thousand times over. "You've got me?"

'Course." He smiled, holding your head up high with his thumb and index holding your chin, pretty green eyes soft. "Gotta protect my angel." My angel.

His angel.

Even as he put on his shirt and left, you couldn't help how you fell back onto your bed, covered your face with your hands and squealed with giggles, because you'd kissed him, and it felt like fire and ice and electricity and warmth and heaven, shit.

Steph and Bella were right.

Frank Russo paced the length of his luxurious office, his polished Italian leather shoes clicking against the marble floor. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at the framed cityscape visible through the wide windows. The skyline of New York stretched out before him like his own personal empire, but it offered no solace today. The news had come in just moments ago, and it was nothing short of infuriating.

He spun around sharply, his cold, steely eyes locking onto his assistant, Lou, who stood by the door. Lou was a wiry man in his late forties, his once-black hair now streaked with gray. Though usually calm and composed, even Lou seemed unsettled under Frank’s intense scrutiny.

“You’re telling me not one of them could get the job done?” Frank hissed, his voice low and menacing.

Lou hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his words carefully. “It’s not for lack of trying, boss. Winchester… he’s not like the others. He knows every move before it’s made.”

“Of course he does!” Frank bellowed, slamming a fist against the heavy oak desk in the center of the room. Papers scattered, and a glass of whiskey wobbled precariously before settling. “He’s one of us—or he was until he decided to play hero. That’s why I chose him in the first place. But now…” He trailed off, his lip curling in disgust. “Now he’s a liability.”

Lou nodded slowly, his hands clasped in front of him. “Dean knows the playbook inside and out. The hitmen… they don’t stand a chance. They’re predictable to him.”

Frank ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, letting out a slow, sharp exhale. His frustration was palpable, the room practically vibrating with his anger. He couldn’t afford another failure. The President had to be eliminated—her reforms, her policies, everything she stood for was a direct threat to the empire he’d spent decades building. And as long as Dean Winchester was standing in the way, it was impossible to get close to her.

“What do you suggest, Lou?” Frank asked finally, his voice eerily calm. “You’re supposed to be my problem solver. So solve the problem.”

Lou’s eyes flicked to the desk, avoiding Frank’s piercing gaze. “We need someone different,” he said cautiously. “Someone who isn’t just another gun-for-hire. Someone who can outthink Dean.”

Frank snorted, a humorless sound. “You’re saying I need a ghost to take out a ghost.”

Lou gave a small shrug. “Something like that. Dean’s good—better than good. But there’s always someone better.”

Frank stared at him for a long moment, the weight of the silence pressing down on them both. Then, finally, he nodded. “Fine. Find this ‘someone better.’ I don’t care what it costs, who they are, or what they want. Just find them and get them here. And make sure they understand the stakes.”

Lou straightened, clearly relieved to have a task to focus on. “Understood, boss. I’ll start making calls right away.”

Frank waved a dismissive hand. “Go. Now.”

Lou turned and exited the room quickly, leaving Frank alone with his simmering rage. He walked over to the window, staring out at the city once more. It wasn’t just about the President anymore; this had become personal. Dean Winchester, the man he’d once trusted as one of his own, had turned against him. He’d become a traitor to the very world that had shaped him.

Frank clenched his teeth, his hands gripping the edge of the windowsill so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t a man who tolerated betrayal, and Dean’s defection was the ultimate insult. It wasn’t enough to kill the President—Dean had to pay, too. The man needed to know what it meant to cross Frank Russo.

Meanwhile, Lou sat in his dimly lit office, a phone pressed to his ear. His fingers drummed against the desk as he listened to the static-laced voice on the other end of the line.

“This job… it’s not just anyone who can pull it off,” Lou said, keeping his voice low. “We’re talking about taking out the President of the United States. The target is surrounded by the best security detail money can’t even buy. And then there’s Winchester.”

The voice on the other end responded, though the words were inaudible to anyone but Lou. He nodded along, his expression serious.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “Exactly. That’s why we need someone who can outmaneuver him. Someone who can think like him, but isn’t bound by the same rules.”

Another pause as the voice continued. Lou’s lips curved into a small, grim smile.

“I knew you’d say that,” he murmured. “All right, I’ll make the arrangements. But remember, this isn’t just about the money. You pull this off, and you’ll have the gratitude of the most powerful man in New York. That’s worth more than any paycheck.”

He hung up the phone, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. The person he’d contacted was an enigma, a shadow in the criminal underworld. Their reputation was unparalleled, their methods ruthless and efficient. If anyone could get past Dean Winchester, it was them.

Lou stood, smoothing his tie as he prepared to deliver the news to Frank. He felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. The wheels were in motion now, and there was no turning back. If this plan failed, it wouldn’t just mean trouble for Frank—it would mean the end for all of them.

As Lou re-entered Frank’s office, he found his boss standing by the window, the city lights casting an eerie glow across his face. Frank turned, his eyes narrowing expectantly.

“Well?” he demanded.

Lou nodded. “I’ve got someone. They’re on their way. If anyone can get past Winchester, it’s them.”

Frank’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “Good. Make sure they understand that failure is not an option.”

Lou hesitated for a moment before replying. “They understand. But there’s one thing, boss. This person… they don’t play by the usual rules. If we bring them in, there’s no controlling what happens next.”

Frank’s smile only widened. “I don’t care about the rules, Lou. I care about results. Now get out of here and make sure everything’s ready.”

Lou nodded and left the room, leaving Frank alone once again. He returned to his desk, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully. The game was changing, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to win.

Dean Winchester had made his move. Now it was Frank’s turn. And this time, he wouldn’t miss.

The motorcade glided through the bustling streets, the presidential limousine flanked by sleek black SUVs, their tinted windows concealing the elite security detail within. Outside, the city hummed with its usual rhythm, but inside the vehicle, the air was thick with anticipation. You smoothed your blouse, a hint of nervous energy crackling through you. Today wasn’t just another meeting; it was a calculated move toward a greater goal—uniting efforts with someone who once stood as your rival.

Amara Shurley.

The very name carried a weight of respect and a tinge of nostalgia. She had been your fiercest competitor during the presidential race, her campaign marked by poise, intelligence, and a quiet determination that had made her a formidable opponent. Yet, through the fiery debates and the clash of ideals, there had always been an unspoken camaraderie.

You were both women striving for a better future in a world that wasn’t always kind to ambition.

As the limousine pulled up to the understated entrance of Amara’s private office, you glanced out the window. The building was sleek and modern, its glass façade reflecting the afternoon sun. Dean Winchester, as always, was a shadow at your side, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter before opening the door for you.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. It was more an order than a suggestion, but you nodded, stepping out into the crisp autumn air.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you approached the entrance, flanked by members of your security detail. Dean remained a step behind, his presence a constant reassurance. The receptionist, a young woman with a polished smile, greeted you warmly before leading you to the elevator.

The ride up was silent, save for the hum of the machinery. When the doors opened, Amara was there, waiting.

“Madam President,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she extended her hand.

“Amara,” you replied with a smile, shaking her hand firmly. “You can drop the formalities. This is just a friendly meeting.”

Her lips quirked up into a knowing grin. “Friendly? That’s not the vibe I got during the debates.”

You laughed, shaking your head as she led you into her office. It was a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The décor was minimalist but sophisticated—dark wood furniture, a few tasteful art pieces, and a large desk that dominated the space.

Dean and the security detail lingered by the door as Amara gestured for you to sit on the plush couch. She poured two glasses of sparkling water, handing you one before sitting across from you.

“So,” she began, crossing her legs elegantly. “What’s on your mind?”

You took a sip of water, gathering your thoughts. “I’ll get straight to the point. I need your help.”

Her brows arched in mild surprise. “With what?”

“With credibility,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “I have a lot of ideas—big ideas—about what I want to achieve during my term. But I also know that change can’t happen without collaboration and input from people who understand the nuances of policy-making.”

Amara nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve never been one to shy away from ambition. What kind of changes are we talking about?”

You launched into your vision, laying out your plans with the same passion that had driven your campaign. Legalizing abortion nationwide, reforming healthcare to include more accessible mental health services, implementing renewable energy initiatives to combat climate change—it was all there. As you spoke, Amara listened intently, her sharp mind clearly dissecting every point.

“I want to make sure these legislations aren’t just bold ideas but practical, impactful, and sustainable,” you concluded. “And I believe you’re the person who can help me achieve that.”

Amara was silent for a moment, her fingers lightly tapping against the armrest. “You’re asking me to cross the aisle and work with you.”

“I’m asking you to do what’s right,” you corrected gently. “You’ve always been about progress, Amara. This isn’t about politics—it’s about people.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she was going to agree. But then she smiled—a genuine, warm smile that softened her features.

“All right,” she said. “I’m in.”

Relief washed over you, and you returned her smile. “Thank you. Truly.”

Amara shrugged, a glint of humor in her eyes. “Don’t thank me yet. I might tear some of your ideas apart.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The conversation shifted to specifics, and the next hour flew by in a flurry of discussion and debate. Amara challenged you on several points, offering insights and suggestions that made your proposals stronger. It was invigorating—a reminder of why you respected her so much.

Dean remained by the door, his gaze occasionally flicking to you as you spoke with animated passion. You caught his eye once, and he gave you a small nod, his expression unreadable but approving. It was a brief moment, but it steadied you.

As the meeting wound down, Amara leaned back against the couch, a satisfied look on her face. “You’ve got some solid ideas, Madam President. I think we can make this work.”

“We will,” you said with confidence. “Together.”

She extended her hand again, and you shook it firmly, sealing the partnership.

As you stood to leave, Amara walked you to the door, pausing to glance at Dean. “You’ve got quite the guardian angel there,” she remarked, her tone light but perceptive.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond. You smiled, glancing at him. “He’s the best.”

Amara nodded, her gaze lingering on Dean for a moment before turning back to you. “Good luck, Madam President. You’re going to need it.”

You laughed softly, stepping into the hallway with Dean at your side. The motorcade was waiting downstairs, but as you walked, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. Amara’s agreement was a victory—not just for you, but for the people you served.

And as you glanced at Dean, his steady presence a constant in the whirlwind of your life, you felt a quiet reassurance. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you weren’t facing them alone.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait—” Steph’s voice pitched to an impressive decibel as her eyes widened, practically sparkling with excitement. Bella, sitting cross-legged on the couch, let out an ear-piercing squeal that had you cringing and glancing at the closed door to make sure no one outside could hear. “You what?” Steph exclaimed again, gripping your arm with both hands.

“I kissed him,” you muttered, already regretting telling them anything.

Bella bounced in place, her red curls bouncing with her. “Oh my God!” she squealed. “You kissed Dean? Dean Winchester? The human embodiment of danger and hotness? This is like—this is straight out of a fanfiction!”

You buried your face in your hands, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big deal,” Steph said, leaning forward, her voice laced with dramatic emphasis. “The hottest bodyguard in the history of the great States, sworn to protect the President, and now— kissed by her? Girl, this is Wattpad-level gold.”

Bella nodded fervently, her grin stretching ear to ear. “Okay, okay, but details. We need details,” she demanded. “Where were you? What was the mood? Was it passionate? Was it—”

“Steamy?” Steph interjected, waggling her eyebrows.

You groaned, slumping back against the armchair as you covered your face with your hands again. “It wasn’t like that,” you mumbled through your fingers.

Bella and Steph both froze mid-gush, exchanging quick glances. “Wait,” Bella said slowly, lowering her voice as though the room had grown ominously serious. “Are you telling me… it wasn’t steamy?”

Steph’s mouth fell open, a hand pressed to her chest in mock outrage. “No. Way. What do you mean it wasn’t steamy? He’s Dean Winchester! Tall, broad-shouldered, killer jawline, the whole sexy-mercenary-in-a-suit package! How was it not steamy?”

You peeked through your fingers, feeling mortified but also exasperated. “It just wasn’t, okay? It was—” You struggled to find the right words, your mind flashing back to the moment. The electricity, the hesitation, the heat that had simmered under the surface without ever truly boiling over. “It was… nice.”

“Nice?” Bella repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief. She leaned back, throwing her hands up. “Nice is the word you’re going with?”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t something out of a Harlequin romance!” you snapped, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your embarrassment. “It was when I was bandaging him up. It just… happened.”

Steph squinted at you suspiciously. “Was there tongue?”

“No!”

“No tongue?!” Bella threw her head back dramatically, clutching at her chest. “Oh, what a waste of prime romantic real estate!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be some grand, sweeping kiss,” you argued, though you could feel the tension creeping into your tone. “It just… it felt right in the moment, okay? That’s all.”

Steph shook her head, clearly unimpressed. “You’re telling me you’ve got the lead in what could be the most epic slow-burn romance of all time, and you settle for a ‘nice’ kiss?”

Bella sighed dramatically, leaning over to pat your arm. “Honey, you’re the President of the United States. You’re supposed to be setting standards.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small laugh escaped despite yourself. “I can’t believe I told you two anything.”

“Oh, please,” Steph said, grinning. “You would’ve combusted if you didn’t. You’ve been looking way too pleased with yourself all morning.”

Bella nodded sagely. “We had to pry it out of you, but it was worth it. Even if the kiss itself was, let’s face it, a little underwhelming.”

“Underwhelming?” you repeated, incredulous. “You weren’t even there!”

“Which is exactly why we’re relying on you to live vicariously through,” Bella said, giving you a pointed look. “And what do we get? A middle-school hallway kiss. I mean, come on.”

You groaned again, though this time you were laughing despite yourself. “You two are impossible.”

Steph grinned. “You love us.”

“Debatable,” you muttered, though your smile gave you away.

The teasing continued for another few minutes, with Bella and Steph tossing out increasingly ridiculous suggestions for how you could “improve” your next kiss with Dean. By the time you finally escaped to your office under the guise of needing to review your afternoon schedule, you felt both exasperated and oddly lighter. They may have been impossible, but they were your impossible—always ready to tease, push, and support you in equal measure.

As you closed your office door and leaned back against it, the memory of the kiss resurfaced, unbidden but not unwelcome. It might not have been the steamy, earth-shattering moment Bella and Steph had been hoping for, but it had been… something. A spark. A promise.

And deep down, you knew you wanted more.

The phone rang just as you were settling back at your desk, still smiling faintly from the ridiculousness of Bella and Steph’s earlier antics. You reached for it, expecting it to be Becky with an update on your schedule or perhaps an international call you’d been waiting on. But the name flashing across the screen made you pause.

Ryan.

Your older brother never called during the day unless something was important—or, more likely, because Bella or Steph had stirred up some sort of nonsense. You sighed, bracing yourself, and hit the green button.

“Hey, Ryan,” you said casually, leaning back in your chair. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” he repeated, his voice laced with a suspicious drawl that immediately made your stomach sink. “You tell me, Madam President. Or should I say, kissing champion of the White House?”

Your heart stopped for a moment, and then you groaned loudly, pressing your free hand to your forehead. “Oh, for the love of—how do you even know about that?”

“Bella,” he said simply, the word landing like a punchline. “She called me, giddy, might I add, and filled me in on all the juicy details. Well, what little details there were. Seems like you’re not one to kiss and tell, huh?”

You closed your eyes, wishing you could teleport through the phone to strangle your sister-in-law. “Bella has a very loose interpretation of the word ‘juicy.’”

Ryan laughed, and you could practically hear his grin through the phone. “So, it’s true then?”

“Do I even have the option of denying it at this point?”

“Not really,” he admitted cheerfully. “But you should probably know she gave me a full rundown. Apparently, you and this Dean guy have some kind of slow-burn tension, and she’s ‘living for it.’ Her words, not mine.”

You sighed, slumping forward against your desk. “I’m going to kill her.”

“She’ll probably make it worth your while by live-streaming her death on Instagram,” he said, clearly amused. “But more importantly—do I need to grill this guy? Or beat him up?”

You snorted despite yourself. “First of all, I’m the President of the United States. You can’t just go around beating up my bodyguard.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t,” Ryan said, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re my little sister. I don’t care if he’s a decorated Secret Service agent or a Marine—if he’s messing with you, I’ll set him straight.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the protective note in his voice. Ryan had always been like this—teasing and sarcastic most of the time, but fiercely loyal when it came to family. “Relax,” you said. “Dean’s not messing with me. He’s… fine.”

“Fine, huh?” Ryan said, dragging the word out in a way that made you roll your eyes. “That’s not exactly reassuring. You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, exasperated. “He’s smart, he’s loyal, and he saved my life—more than once. I trust him completely.”

“Uh-huh.” Ryan’s voice was skeptical. “And what about the kissing part? That part seems a little outside his job description.”

Your cheeks heated at the memory of Dean’s lips on yours, the brief but intense moment of connection that had left you reeling. “It was… it just happened,” you said, your voice quieter now. “I wasn’t planning it, and neither was he. It just… felt right.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you could almost hear Ryan processing your words. Finally, he sighed. “You sound serious about this guy.”

“I don’t know what I am,” you admitted, the weight of your feelings suddenly pressing down on you. “It’s complicated, Ryan. I’m the President, and he’s my bodyguard. This kind of thing isn’t exactly… simple.”

“Well, you’ve never done anything the simple way,” Ryan said, his voice softening. “Look, I don’t know this Dean guy, but if he’s good to you—and I mean really good to you—then I’m not gonna stand in your way. Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

“I will,” you said, smiling faintly. “Thanks, Ryan.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone brightening. “But seriously, if he steps out of line, let me know. I’ll fly down there and take care of it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Now, go do some presidential stuff or whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” you said, hanging up the phone with a shake of your head.

As you set the phone down, you found yourself thinking about what Ryan had said. You didn’t know exactly what was happening between you and Dean, but one thing was clear: it wasn’t going away anytime soon. And maybe—just maybe—that wasn’t such a bad thing.

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