#need to stick my finger in his mouth and let him chew on it too he deserves it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

naomiarai · 7 months ago

Text

𝔸𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 — 𝙻. 𝙷𝚎𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐

╔. ■ .═══════╗

➤ in which you’ve grown a liking to the roommate of the guy you tutor.

╚═══════. ■ .╝

➤ PAIRING — heeseung × fem! reader

➤ GENRE — romance, smut, fluff, comedy if you squint, f2l, college au

➤ WARNINGS — mentions of drinking, dom! heeseung, big dick! heeseung, sub! reader, unprotected sex, pet names (baby, pretty), oral (m.rec), vaginal fingering, doggy, manhandling, lots of kissing, creampie, multiple orgasms, spanking, slight nipple play, kind of public sex?/ semi public sex. [ lmk if i missed anything ]

➤ WC — 6.6K

➤ AUTHOR — reblogs and feedback are appreciated! (not proofread)

➤ [ enha masterlist ] [ taglist ]

You lift your head from the fiction book it was practically buried in, taking in your surroundings. The cafeteria was huddled with people, either stuffing their faces or babbling too much to care about their cold food. Reaching for your spoon, you fit the last of your rice into your mouth, chewing far too slow, with a sudden foul expression. You stare at Beomgyu, who weirdly stumbles his way towards you. What an idiot.

He makes his way to chair beside you, carelessly dragging it to sit down. You swallow expectedly, pulling a poker face. Beomgyu’s the last person you’d talk to, truly because he was a complete imbecile. The kind that if you were to tell him that he was one, he'd start fake crying and stick his very blue tongue out. (Yes he almost always has a blue fucking lollipop stuck in his mouth, and it TOTALLY irks you.)

Clearly not a big fan of him. So why would said Beomgyu come up to you?

He rotates his chair to completely face yours, letting out a deep breath; smiling at you uneasily. You arch your eyebrow, holding back a snort at how stupid he looks eyeing you.

“Uh..hi.. I’m Beomgyu, Choi—�� he says; getting cut off by you before he could finish.

“Choi Beomgyu, I know,” you drawl. Who doesn't at this point?

He swallows nervously; eyes wandering away from yours, “Look, I know this is totally out of character for me, and I would kill to go back but, I kind of need your help” he whispers as if to make sure no one hears him.

Your face contorts into disbelief and confusion. Thats odd.

“Help? Why would you need my help?, don’t you have your buddies for that?”

Beomgyu's nervous, fidgeting with his fingers on the table. “Well, they could try, but it won't really help,” he confesses. “My grades are too low, I can't keep up the act of being okay, you know?” he mutters lowly.

You press your tongue against your cheek, getting what he’s trying to say.

“So, you're asking if I can tutor you?" you clarify, waiting for his nod. He quietly agrees. While tutoring isn’t exactly your specialty, you’ve given it a shot in the past. You could easily say no and leave him without help, but the opportunity to earn some extra cash is tempting enough to give it a go.

“Alright, what's the wage?” you ask in a relaxed tone. Beomgyu seems relieved, attempting to hide his grin.

“Thinking $10 per hour?” he suggests tentatively.

“Not quite what I had in mind,” you respond, unimpressed. Come on Beomgyu, you’re pretty loaded.

“How about $15?” he proposes without hesitation.

“Hmm, on second thought..”

“$25!” he interjects, irritation creeping into his voice.

You smile, content with the improved offer. “Deal.”

“Great, we can meet at my apartment, I just moved in last month; I need to be independent apparently” he says quickly. “Just a heads up, I have a roommate. I totally had to fight him for the apartment, so we’re rooming. He won't be a bother, we'll just have the place to ourselves in my room, he’s never home anyway”.

You nod in understanding and inquire, “Is he from around here?” Beomgyu nods and responds, “Yeah, his name's Heeseung, you know, the one thats’s boring AF?”

You take a brief pause, running your tongue over your lips as you wrack your brain for any sign of a Heeseung among your classmates. Surprisingly, you can’t seem to place him, which is unusual since you typically have a good grasp of everyone in your year. It's possible that Heeseung is just someone who prefers to stay under the radar, which might explain why you haven’t heard of him.

“Weird, I don’t know a Heeseung in our year” you say with confused tone.

Beomgyu shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes rolling in dismissal. “He’s always been like that. Anyway, I’m only still rooming with him because, well, he's almost never home and I can’t cook” he says, eyes bored.

The lunch bell rings loudly, abruptly halting your conversation. You glance at Beomgyu and manage a small smile. “I’ll drop by tomorrow; today's just too busy, you inform him. He gives a thumbs-up in response. With that settled, you start clearing your tray.

╰┈➤

Exiting the elevator, you walk down the corridor, each step bringing you closer to Beomgyu's door. He's waiting for you, his dark hair easy to spot in the hallway. You approach him, greeting him by waving your hand.

You quickly kick off your sneakers and step in, scanning the area with a keen eye. Everything looks neat enough, but the sight of a mop leaning against the wall and the freshly mopped floor makes you wonder. Did he just clean up right before you got here? Seems likely, considering he didn't bother to sweep before mopping. Looks like cleaning isn't really his thing.

Beomgyu gestures towards his room, pulling you out of your thoughts. You follow him inside, and as you step in, you’re greeted by a burst of color. The walls are painted a bold red, adorned with pictures and posters of basketball stars and iconic moments. You can't help but admire the shiny pictures that catch the light, giving the room a vibrant energy. “Cool room” you say, feeling drawn to the bright atmosphere created by all the basketball themed decor.

“Thanks” he says proudly, glancing up at his room.

You glance over at him, smoothly pulling out one of the chairs positioned by the desk, then lowering yourself onto its burgundy red cushion. Beomgyu follows your lead, exhaling audibly as he takes a seat beside you. He picks up a book from his cluttered desk and flips through it, his brow furrowed in concentration. Eventually, he slides it over to you, saying quietly, ‘I don't understand this.’

Examining the content, you meet Beomgyu's gaze with a bored expression. “Beomgyu, this is really basic," you remark casually, flipping through the pages without much interest. You know you’re being fairly annoying saying that. But if Beomgyu wants you to tutor him, he’ll have to deal with it.He gives you a dramatic eye roll and clenches his teeth, interrupting you with a sarcastically sweet tone, “Can we just get to the point already?” You stifle a chuckle, nodding in agreement. “Alright, alright”.

After spending about two hours tutoring, you're ready to wrap things up. Despite Beomgyu's jokes sneaking in here and there, you feel good about how it went. Plus, getting paid $50 is a nice bonus for your time.

You lean back in your chair, letting out a tired yawn. “Well, I guess it's time to head out,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. Beomgyu nods in agreement, rising from his seat. Just then, the sound of the front door being unlocked catches you off guard, causing you to glance at Beomgyu for reassurance. He seems unfazed. Oh. It must be his roommate, Heeseung, if you remember correctly.

You don’t think much of it, heading out of his room towards the door, Beomgyu following close behind. Glancing at the hand holding the door still, you stop on your tracks, awkwardly waiting for this Heeseung to enter. The soft creak of the door’s release draws your attention, as your eyes meet his, times seems to momentarily halt. Were people supposed to be this good looking or was it the lack of love in your life? God, he’s mesmerizing.

“_______”? You hear Beomgyu say, as your mind cuts your train of thoughts. “This is Heeseung, the one I was talking about yesterday” he tells you as you nod quietly in his direction, eyes still fixated on Heeseung.

Heeseung eyes you up and down, humming when Beomgyu introduces you as the girl from class who tutors him. You look familiar. You smile shyly, legs heading towards the end of the door. But what you caught on his face just as you stepped out brings red to your cheeks.

He fucking smirked.

It leaves you pondering, as you mutter a ‘bye’ to Beomgyu, not bothering to look at him. What was that? Did he do that to fluster you? You shouldn’t overthink it. Maybe he does that all time. Whatever, you’re not going to dwell on it. But it does leave you with more enthusiasm to come over to tutor Beomgyu. You’ll hope the only thing you’ll do here is teach.

It’s been about a month since you’ve been tutoring Beomgyu. You’re overall pretty satisfied with how it’s been going; you could see genuine improvement with him.

Other than the fact that you’re effort is going on the right track, you might also be taking advantage of your time there. Your suspiciously long ‘study breaks’ might have not always been for the said purpose. They might have been to make small talk with his roommate; when he arrived home earlier than usual. Or when the times up and you have to leave, delaying your departure so you can see his face atleast once a day. You can’t deny the attraction. Sure, the small talk might be slightly awkward but you atleast get to know him.

You walk out of Beomgyu’s room, on one of your so called ‘breaks’. Today's a good day. Heeseung’s home early!

You make your way towards the kitchen; you must say the counters are well done. They’re like a distraction if it gets awkward talking to him As the door to Heeseung's room swings open, the subtle movement sends a shiver down your spine, causing you to flinch involuntarily. You straighten up, hands crawling up a cabinet to find a glass for water.

You feel his figure behind you, somehow so close yet so far. “On break?” He asks, voice raspy. Must’ve took a nap. “Yeah” you mumble taking ahold of a glass. You turn around, drinking in his figure; oh fuck he’s in a tank top.

You almost stumble walking forward to fill your glass, just when you feel him grab your glass, “I’ll fill it for you. Grab me one too will ya?” he says grinning. Oh does he have to smile like that infront of you?

Nodding slowly, you walk back, getting another glass and handing it over to him. Heeseung mutters a ‘thank you’, proceeding to fill it up.

“Beomgyu tells me you don’t recognize me. I sit behind you in chemistry, silly , i was waiting for you to realise” he says with slight confusion laced into his words.

Your eyes become slightly wide, imagining yourself inside chemistry class. It ticks your brain. Of course, that’s why you must have looked familiar to him. “Right, sorry I never caught that”.

Before he can say anything you hear Beomgyu’s whiny voice calling your name, indicating it’s been far too long since you’ve been gone.

Now you’re on your way to Beomgyu’s again. It’s a Saturday, but he requested you to come. Just as you enter your cab, you hear the loud shrieking sound of thunder, indicating rain. Getting in, you sink into the cozy cab seat, the sound of rain tapping on the windows and occasional flashes of lightning outside creating a quite yet filled atmosphere. You gaze outside with a slight pout. It’s quite late as your leaving now, you hope the rain calms down by the time you have to go home.

Stepping out of the cab, rain pours down relentlessly. You dash towards the elevator, hands shielding your head from the downpour. Inside, you quickly fix your hair in the mirrored walls, hoping the rain doesn’t worsen. Looking into the mirror like walls of the elevator, you fix up your hair. God, you really hope the rain calms down.

The elevator’s soft robotic hum faded as you stepped into the familiar corridor, your feet moving automatically towards the well known door. With a sigh, you rang the doorbell, the sound cutting through the quiet. Taking off your sandals, you huff, waiting.

You hear feet walk up behind the door, unlocking it. But you don’t expect to meet eyes with Heeseung, white earphones stuck in his eyes and a song paused on his phone.

“Beomgyu’s not home..? It’s a Saturday anyway, you tutor him on Saturdays too? Geez” he says as you stand still, digesting what he just said.

Before you can answer him, your phone buzzes, a notification.

[Choi Beomgyu], 7:14 PM :

heyy im so sorry but uh i forgot i had plans today.. youve probably reached by now and its raining like crazy and I don't think its gonna stop so you can stay over for the night in my room, i’ll be at a friends’. use one of my tshirts or smtg. also heeseung's home so you wont get killed at night! again sorry!! </3

You internally roll your eyes. Seriously? But you can’t stay mad at him, he seems kind of genuine.

“I think I’ll have to crash here tonight,” you admit, your cheeks flushing slightly as you offer a tentative smile. As if on cue, Heeseung pulls the door open wide, ushering you inside with a dramatic gesture. “Beomgyu asked me to use his room, kay?” you explain, feeling a sudden surge of liveliness.

Heeseung chuckles at you, his eyes fixed on you as he watches you set down on your bag on the couch heading into Beomgyu’s room. You still feel captivated each time you enter his room; you wonder what Heeseung’s room looks like, you’ve only ever seen glimpses of it whenever he came out of it. Black walls or something.

You look around for his closest, quickly landing your eyes on the half-black, half-red wardrobe. Grabbing the handle and tugging it open, you start to look for t-shirts, thats’s something comfortable. And maybe some shorts as well. Yeah, you might look a bit awkward in it but it’s just for one night.

You frown your face, unable to locate any t-shirts. God, where does this man keep his things?

“What’re you looking for so interesting?” you hear a familiar voice say, flinching at it. You turn around to find Heeseung, arms crossed leaning against one of the open doors of the wardrobe. Dangerously close to you, you must say.

“B..Beomgyu asked me to use his t-shirt or something for the night” you explain, licking your lips. “But I just can’t find any”, you say with a annoyed sigh.

Was it just you or did you imagine the look of distate on Heeseung’s when you mentioned wearing Beomgyu’s t-shirt?

“They’re all in the wash, the idiot probably forgot, use mine,” he tells you, staring into your eyes with miniscule smile.

You can’t help but feel shocked by his offer, causing your heart to beat faster. It may seem insignificant, borrowing clothes, but it’s Heeseung. Your voice feels trapped in your throat, a rush of excitement running through your veins. It just feels special when it comes from him. But you definitely can’t say no, can you?

You reply in a quiet voice, trying not to seem overly enthusiastic, “If you’re completely sure...” He responds with a gentle smile while gently tugging at your wrist. Surprised by the gesture, you let out a soft gasp but ultimately decide to go along with it.

Entering his room, directly opposite Beomgyu’s, the matte black walls catch your eye, imbuing the space with a sleek, modern vibe. The abundance of books scattered; if arranged with proper shelving and space could make a pretty mini library.

As you find yourself in the midst of his room, you can't help but admire the coolness of both of your rooms. “You guys have such cool rooms” you exclaim, watching as Heeseung frantically searches through his closet. You hear his echoed chuckle as you walk towards him, taking a peek at his closet. He seems to have just destroyed its neatness. But you do notice the many t-shirts laying flat and wrinkled on the floor.

“There’s a like a billion one of those t-shirts you’re searching for on the floor, Lee” you tell him, bending down to pick up the two you see. “And a pair of shorts too” you add. Heeseung hums in response with a grin, sighing as he pulls out a pretty white t-shirt and a pair of black shorts. Certainly a little too big for you, sure as hell comfortable. Plus it’s Heeseung’s, makes it all the better.

He turns towards you, holding the t-shirt out in display. “I think you’d look nice in this” he tells you trying to contain a smile sheepishly. Did he do all this searching, messing up his well organised wardrobe, just because he thought this one specific one would look good on you? You would kiss him if you could right now.

You try to stay calm, trying to hide your eagerness as you thank him softly, taking it from him. Turning around, you move to leave; but stop on your tracks when you feel his hand on your wrist stopping you. Instinctively you look back, Heeseung’s face mere inches away from yours. If you moved any closer, your lips would touch his. And you don’t know if that’s a risk you’re willing to take.

“You forgot this” he says,handing you the black shorts, brown orbs still looking into yours. You feel some sort of relief when he says that, quickly taking it from him. “Right” you say in response walking away.

As you walk away, you think about what just happened; would he have kissed you back if you did first? Does he like you like that? Or is it just some occurring tension between you two? You don’t know but you’ll let it play out like this.

Standing before the bathroom mirror, you take a moment to appreciate the comfort and loose fit of your attire. The t-shirt drapes effortlessly over your torso, offering a snug yet relaxed feeling. The shorts fit good at your waist too, thanks to it being elastic. Heeseung was right about thinking it’d look good on you. And again, it’s his.

You step out of the bathroom, slowly walking your way into the living room. You spot Heeseung on je couch, a video game console in his hands and eyes fixated on the TV screen. Stopping on your tracks you watch him, completely not noticing you. From what you’ve seen, he’s not as boring as Beomgyu has told you before. You see a second console on the coffee table. It’s so obvious they play together.

“Mind if I join in?”, you ask, your voice brimming with excitement as you make your way over to the couch where he's lounging. With a playful bounce, you settle yourself down right beside him, looking over at him.

His eyes roam over you, and you feel your cheeks heating up. Is he pleased with how his clothes fit you, or does he see something off? Heeseung’s gulp breaks the tension, and he meets your gaze once more, leaving you uncertain about what his look truly means.

“Do I look weird or something?” you say, laughing awkwardly. Please say no.

He almost immediately denies your assumptions, “No, fuck you don’t,” he says swallowing once more, “You look..good, that’s all” he continues. No, that’s not what he wants to say. He thinks you look hot. But best left inside his head. You internally sigh in relief, thank god. Resuming back to what you said, you ask again giggling, “So can I play?”

He nods his head in agreement, grinning. Bending over to grab the other console, you shuffle into a comfortable seating position, hands on your knees. “Good luckkk” you drawl with confidence. Heeseung scoffs at you with a smile, he’d kiss that attitude out of you but he'll watch you play for now.

“I’ve experienced Beomgyu storming out in anger because he didn't win like five times in a row,” he tells you with a cocky smile. Alright, skilled gamer Heeseung. Although your confidence may have wavered, you refuse to let it affect you. Your main goal is to enjoy yourself during your time here.

“Beomgyu acts like you’re so boring, yet he seems to have pretty good friendship with you” you say softly. Heeseung hums in response, “It’s because I only play with him sometimes, not really so often. He’s just over-dramatic, really” he brushes off.

You nod in understanding, “Let’s play then, shall we?”

You don’t think you’ve ever laughed this hard at someone’s face before. Heeseung’s face when you swiftly went past him and won the game has you breaking into peels of laughter. His face is truly priceless.

“Did that hurt your ego?” you say between soft giggles. Heeseung stares at you, holding back a grin. The way you feel confident after winning over him, entices him; He wants to ruin that confidence, he wants to ruin you. “Beginners luck” he replies instead. You continue to giggle at him, laughter dying down as silence pierces through. It’s peaceful, not awkward at all as the both of you sit in the rather calming quietnesss.

The quiet room suddenly got noisy with your unexpected hiccups. You felt them like tiny jumps in your chest, making you stumble as you hurried to the kitchen, your steps clumsy against the relentless spasms. Opening up the very familiar cupboard, you tap against its inner floor, reaching for a glass. Gasping quietly as you land your feet from tip toeing; you lick your lips, turning to go fill it up.

You’ve always liked this kitchen. It gave you a feeling nostalgia; having such a similar one back at your parents house.

“You enjoyed winning so much didn’t you?” Heeseung says with amusement lacing his words. Gulping down the last of your water with an uncontrollable smile, you nod at him. You like having him slightly worked up. It’s entertaining.

Heeseung walks over towards you, suddenly caging you with his arms. Your hands instinctively grasp at the counter behind you, eyes darting down. His eyes look into yours sharply inching even closer, if you went just a little closer, your noses would touch and at that point you should just kiss. Temptation clouds your mind and ball of confidence strikes you; retrieving your hands from the counter, you pause before connecting your lips to his.

His lips freeze against yours; certainly was not expecting you to do that. But as soon as he hears your soft whine, his arms that once surrounded the space around you, grabbed at your waist. The soft feeling of his lips on yours melts your body into desire, but before you can fall under it, you pull away.Heeseung groans just as you cut contact, looking at you with an puzzled expression. What are you doing to him? You give him what he wants and blatantly take it away. That’s the game you play huh? You tip toe, bending your neck over his as you take a peek at the wall clock fixed in the living room, just next to the kitchen. 10 PM it read. Time does fly when you have fun.

“Sex this late night ruins my sleep” you tell him with a fake pout plastered on your face. “Maybe next time, Lee” you add on as you cup his face, only to kiss his cheek before slipping away out. Heeseung freezes, shock etched across his features as he replays the scene in his mind. He grapples with your intentions, wondering when this “next time” will occur. It’s clear you’re pushing his buttons, you literally kissed him for a hot minute and left him helplessly hanging. You’re good at switching up aren’t you? If he has to play this game to put you in your place, then so be it.

All confidence that resided inside you vanished as soon as you closed the door to Beomgyu’s room. God, did you actually do that? Your ego definitely seems to spike sometimes. You don’t know if you regret it; from the sheer look in his eyes and searing kiss, it was obvious he liked you too. You just might have left quite an impression on him, it was bold of you. The future of your actions lay flat for tomorrow.

You wake up to the noise of the front door being opened, assuming it was Beomgyu, you rub your tightly closed eyes open. Having slept fairly well last night, you quickly got out of bed, arranging the sheets neat. This wasn’t your bed or home to leave untidy, like you occasionally do. Although you think Beomgyu is no better than you.

Walking out you see Beomgyu, helping himself to a cup of ramen. You’d like some breakfast before you leave.

“Hey, got another cup?” you ask with grogginess evident in your voice. Beomgyu finally takes a look at you, pausing at your question for a few minutes before nodding. He turns back momentarily to grab another cup, sliding it over to you. You can’t help but turn your eyes over to Heeseung’s room. Is he still in bed?

“Where’s your ‘boring’ roommate?” you ask him with a hint laughter in your voice. Beomgyu gives you a sarcastic roll of his eyes, “He left for the gym right as I came in” he says replying to your asked question. Oh. You guess the only time you’ll see him again is on Monday.

Finally pouring in the hot water, you close the cup with the paper lid, waiting. As you sit waiting for your meal, lost in your thoughts, your mind wanders aimlessly. Suddenly, a sharp gasp escapes your lips as your attention is abruptly pulled back to reality by Beomgyu, who has made an odd noise while pointing his index finger in your direction.

You look at him with a confused expression, “I thought I told you use my t-shirt? That’s not mine” he says, staring at you for an answer. Halting for short second, you reply back “I looked through your closet, and Heeseung told me that they were all in the wash, genius. So he lent me his”

Beomgyu looks at you with squinting eyes, processing all what you said before he casually hums. Opening your lid back up, you mix your noodles before going in for a much needed savory bite, humming in delight you look up with happy eyes.

“So, What did you do last night?” Beomgyu questions, inching his elbows closer to you. The question is harmless and innocent if you view it the way you should, but in your case, there are only two things memorable — winning over Heeseung and kissing Heeseung. You can’t help smile internally remembering them, you still feel the feeling of his lips on yours if you think about it long enough.

Beomgyu waves his hand infront of you, as to pop your thinking bubble, “R..Right, yeah, I didn’t do much, just played some video games and went to bed, that’s all” you answer stuttering slightly at your words.

His eyes light up at the mention of video games, a grin fighting for freedom on his face, “Who won?” he asks enthusiastically. You’re sure Beomgyu’s hoping for you to say that you had won, recollecting that he always lost to his skilled roommate. Licking your lips in a swift motion, you press your lips together in a tight smile, gazing at Beomgyu.

The look on your face is all he needs to let out a sigh of happy relief, “Fuck yes! Somebody actually beat Heeseung” he exclaims with delight offering you a high-five, which you gladly receive. Slurping up the last of your breakfast, you walk over to throw in the trash informing Beomgyu on the way that you’ll head out after changing back into your clothes from last night.

As if remembering something important, he calls you again, “ _______!, just wanted to let you know, I’m hosting a party at my parents’ place on Monday you know, since the semesters about to end. And they’re not home anyway. Your’re invited if you’re up for it” he blurts out.

“Who's gonna be there?” you question, intrigued.

“Like practically everyone; Yuna, the girl with red glasses, Heeseung, me, duh and—

“I’ll be there, send me the address” you cut him off, rushing back inside and change before you leave.

You apply a coat of rosy lip gloss, pressing your lips together with satisfaction. You look good tonight, clad in a snug black mini skirt paired elegantly with a delicate white lace tube top and your hair down in waves. The top showcases just the right amount of skin, accentuating the look of your slender silver chain. It’s both sexy and cute.

The party’s at 8 PM, and you’ll be just on time if you leave right now. You take one more good look in your full length mirror, nodding to yourself, before finally heading out.

╰┈➤

You stare in awe at the house the party resided in. It’s truly beautiful, and big. The lively music and joyful voices coming from inside indicate that Beomgyu has invited a lot of people. It’s clear he’s gone all out to make sure everyone has a great time tonight. You enter with a soft sigh, clutching onto your baby pink handbag. The music is loud but quite enough to hear people talk to one another. Your eyes scan around the area; looking for Beomgyu. The large table with drinks catch your eye as you spot Beomgyu sipping on a can of beer.

He locks eyes with you as you make your way towards him, managing a small smile.

“Oh my god, you’re like two minutes late” he exclaims dramatically, holding up his phone in the which glowed ‘8:02 PM’. You give him an unimpressed look. That seems to shut him up as he gives you a small pout.

You grab a can of beer from the table, popping it open and taking a sip.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a house tour, you’re probably the only one who hasn’t been here” he tells already walking ahead.

You faithfully trail behind him as he leads you on a tour through each luxurious room, offering short descriptions of their purposes. The surroundings are nothing short of extravagant, soaring ceilings, intricate architectural designs, and an abundance of totally unnecessary paintings on the wall. The overall aura of the place resembles a palace, filled to the brim with people.

As you both progress down the hallway, the fading music suggests you’re approaching the final room. Each room you’ve passed has been bustling with at least five people, engaged in drinking, sleeping, or playing some sort of game. However, between all this, Heeseung’s absence stands out. You’re left to ponder where he is : Either he dipped out on coming or he’s inside the room you’re just about to enter.

Beomgyu gestures towards the door, softly remarking, “And here’s the last room, my childhood sanctuary.” With a gentle click, he swings it open, revealing a truly elegant space. Stepping inside, you instinctively search for Heeseung, your gaze finally settling on him. He acknowledges Beomgyu, waving at him before he buries his gaze on you.

You look away as soon as you make eye contact, pretending to observe the room instead. Other than Heeseung there are few other guys in the room, they’re all sitting on the bed; probably chatting before you came in.

“What are ya’ll doing just talking? The drinks are downstairs, come down!” Beomgyu tells them with annoyance evident in his voice.

“I’ll stay, not in the mood to drink right now” Heeseung mutters, his eyes still fixated on you. Beomgyu looks at you with bored eyes as if silently letting you know that the person who just spoke is infact really boring. You give him a small giggle before telling him that you’d come down in a bit too. You just might have a little talking to do. Beomgyu gives you an expression of ‘you too?’ before leading the other guys out down with him.

As soon as you turn your head from watching them leave to head down, you slightly flinch at Heeseung walking past you to swiftly lock the door. Safe to say you’re not surprised. You slide your handbag off your shoulder, mounting it on a nearby shelf. Just then you feel a gentle tug at your wrist and immediate contact with Heeseung’s lips. You halt for a second before you wrap your hands around his neck, pads of your fingers pressing into the nape of his neck.

His lips feel just as soft as the first time, addicting you must say. He seems just as eager as you are, slyly pushing his tongue inside your mouth with a grin you could tell he had on. You whine into his mouth, signalling him to pull away to breathe. He pulls away slowly, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you pant heavily. God you really need him right now. His eyes look into yours as you giggle at the lip gloss smeared over his mouth. He looks at you amused as you wipe then gloss off with a focused stare.

“What happened to ‘sex ruins your sleep at night’ ?” he asks you mockingly, running his hands over your ass.

“Your dick’s hard” you retort, hands coming down to palm his cock. He hisses as you do so, mumbling a curse.

“I’ll just go fuck another girl” he tells with a smirk, eager to see your reaction. He’s really trying to piss you off huh?

“No you fucking won’t” you tell him with a laugh, connecting your lips back together. He dosen’t complain, immediately melting into the kiss as you still rub his hard on, making him moan into it. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how good his lips feel against yours.

“That’s right, so suck me off will you?” he says against your lips.

And that's how you end up on your knees, holding onto Heeseung’s thighs tightly while he thrusts his big fucking dick into your mouth. You eagerly suck and twirl your tongue around the lower part of his shaft, making sure to cover it with your saliva. The grip on his thighs becomes even tighter as he pushes his cock deeper into your throat, his mushroom tip brushing against the back.

“J..Just like that baby, god you were made for this” he rasps with eyes closed shut, fingers caressing your hair. You let out quiet moans against his dick, your panties progressively getting wetter. You’re desperate for him inside you.

Continuing to suck him off, you decide to tease him a bit, after all he is, so close to coming. You pull off his dick, retrieving your hands from his thighs and grabbing at the base of it and giving his red tip kitten licks. He groans at loss of your mouth, eyes glaring at your doe eyed ones. “Don’t fucking tease or you won’t get to cum later” he warns you. The thought of not cumming when your pussy was dripping and pulsating like this sent shivers down your spine.

You almost immediately stuff his cock back in your mouth; but you pause when you feel feel Heeseung’s hands gripping your hair, fucking your mouth. It’s sloppy and messy; you feel hot tears well up at your eyes, falling down endlessly as he continues to fuck your throat deep.

“Thats’s a good girl, fuck, ’m gonna cum” he moans, his movements in your mouth gradually easing as he releases his warmth down your throat. Heeseung breathes heavily, his eyes widening with a smile as he gazes at your exhausted expression; cheeks flushed, eyes watery, and most likely a very wet pussy. He bends down to pick you up again, mounting you on his lap as he lifts your skirt, fingers dipping into your soaked cunt.

You whine into his neck, feeling him move your drenched panties to the side, filling your cunt with two of his fingers, sinking in and out of you painfully slow. Heeseung chuckles at your whimpers, finding them cute as he adds a third finger, picking up his pace. He starts pressing wet kisses into your neck, sucking on the shell of your ear which only fueled the building pleasure inside of you.

“Hah—! please, wanna cu..m gonna cum” you groan into his neck as you cream over his fingers, knot in your stomach free as you relieve your high, hugging Heeseung tighter. He brings up his coated fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean.

“Need to fuck you now, but let me eat you out next time, yeah?” he whispers into your ear, as you finally look at him again placing a kiss on your lips. You hum in response, a slight gasp escaping your lips as he flips you on your stomach, ass up in the air; removing the your skirt and sticky underwear. He takes a moment to look at your glistening cunt, slightly swollen from your previous orgasm.

You want to say something you know you shouldn’t, because one, it’s way beyond the truth and two, not when he has you under him like this, no control over him and pussy ready for him to slip into. But you like pissing him off and getting him worked up. Just as you feel his dick poke at your entrance, you whisper, “Small dick”.

You may have said it in a low voice but the way you feel Heeseung stiffen up behind you only confirms he had clearly heard it.

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me on the girl who was fucking choking on this small dick not so long ago” he spits out with amusement lacing his words, cock slipping into your folds whole without notice. You let out a string of choked moans, words breaking down into nothing as he pounds into you relentlessly. Falling face down onto the sheets, you tug on them tighter, body jerking and thighs shaking. To say he felt good buried inside of you was a huge understatement.

He hold your hips tighter, cursing at how you clench down at him each time he goes deeper into you.

“Look at you, cunts sucking me in so good, been desperate for my cock haven’t you?” Heeseung growls with a cruel laugh, leaning down to suck on your back as he still fucks into you. You don’t answer, mind fogged up with cock ruining your pussy as your eyes roll back. One of his hands pull you back up, then grabbing at your bouncing tits, rubbing at your nipples.

He slaps your ass, eyes watching it jiggle with each pound he gives. “Fucking answer me” he demands you, only making you moan louder as you feel his tip brutally hammer at your cervix, pushing you towards the edge.

“Yes! hnng!— fuck yes! gah- please” you blurt out, the need to cum again building up fast.

Heeseung lets out a shriek, cock swollen inside of you as he fills your cunt up with his cum. But he still fucks into you, getting you closer to your high. The way he filled you up only tightened the knot inside you, squirting out on his cock and coating. Your vision sees white as you pant heavily, head throbbing.

Heeseung slowly moves your tired body onto his lap, picking you all over your face as you get back into your senses. “What a way to finally say I love you” he tells you, kissing the crown on your head. You giggle at him, feeling a strong sense of euphoria rush through you.

“I’ve always liked you” you tell him, looking away and playing with his fingers. He chuckles at you, placing another kiss on your lips. “Good, I had a thing for you too” he whispers into your ear.

Suddenly you hear a stiff knock at door, you jolt up in surprise, “Can you please open the fucking door? I need to piss! All the others are occupied!” you hear Beomgyu’s voice outside, desperate to get inside. It makes you realise you literally fucked on his bed, and totally messed up the cheeks. The thought of cleaning it up burns red into your cheeks.

You look up at Heeseung, as if asking what to do. But with the grin he has on his face says otherwise.

“Wait just a little more, I’ve got to make _______ cum again!” he screams out at the door slyly spreading your legs again.

You don’t think Beomgyu has to use the bathroom anymore.

2K notes · View notes

katsukiizmoon · 1 year ago

Text

╰┈➤ ꒰🕸🍒 ┊IN THE CAR WASH | Katsuki Bakugou꒱

『♡』 18+, F!reader, handjob, blowjob, mild overstimulation, cum eating, established relationship, you put a finger in his ass 『♡』 aaah this was supposed to be a drabble in tumblr mobile but ended up being a little under 2k. Happy kinktober lmao. -> I was listening to this

The car vibrates, music playing low in the background. Your hand under his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. You hum and chew your bottom lip. Cool air blasts through the AC and onto you, he makes a turn and slows down to stop for a red light.

You hit skip on a song and Katsuki frowns a little, turning his head to the side and sticking his tongue out at you. Studs in his ears glisten and his skin glows with the presence of the sunlight.The cycle has a while to go with another two sides set to turn green before yours. A thick hand squeezes your palm as the large man to your left taps his foot to the beat. His lips move slightly as he mimics the words near silently, merely hushed.

Taking in the image in front of you, you sigh. The black compression shirt highlights every muscle he has. Perked nipples press against the fabric as if they’re begging to be put on display. Your eyes trail down his body for a moment, tongue flicking out to wet pretty lips. Something thick like honey starts to settle in your veins and slowly it begins to cloud your thoughts.

You bring his hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it and setting it down near the gear shift. He doesn’t pay any mind to it, too preoccupied with watching traffic and listening to music. Nimble fingers slowly reach toward his thigh to slide over the fabric there.

Katsuki’s tapping stops. His mind halts momentarily, carmine eyes glancing down, before he taps to the rhythm again. A horn blares in the distance and the AC is no match for the way his body is beginning to heat. The faint smell of caramel seeps into your senses and sets you on fire. It makes you bold, whispers little things to you.

But Katsuki? His mind races and goes over every possibility on the planet of what you have planned. It settles on something innocent. You’re just wanting to rest your hand there, he thinks.

He is wrong.

Your fingers trail little circles over dark fabric in repetition, while moving closer to his inner thigh. The music changes and you feel the need to wet your lips again. Katsuki begins to get cotton mouth but he swallows spit down to soothe it.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy, if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right.

Katsuki thanks his lucky stars that the light turns green with a fuzzy mind. The bottom of his shoe presses on the pedal and the car begins to speed up. He tries not to think too much about your movements. But he his only a man, who’s slowly being put into a trance.

Lord save me, my drug is my baby. I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

He swallows again and presses a button on the steering wheel, murmuring lowly to the slowed down song. The blonde beside you seems to be unaffected in your eyes. That just won’t do. He feels your fingers move upwards toward his clothed cock that’s beginning to chub in his pants and lets out a deep sigh. It goes on like that for a while, you brush your palm over him a couple times and feign innocence. And he just keeps driving, seeming unaffected despite your best efforts.

You glance over at him, his jaw is set and eyes narrow. Tension makes the air thick like the hardening length beneath his belt. You look back at the road, then lean to the side and begin unbuckling his belt. That makes him freeze. His body feels like it’s on fire.

God knows he’s at your mercy. Forced to drive while you’re toying with him, playing him like a fucking fiddle. He doesn’t even remember where he’s supposed to be going anymore, at some point he just kept driving without thinking. He lets out a slow breath to settle himself when you unzip his pants.

“Babe.” Katsuki grits, only to hear an innocent hmm? Sound in return.

He’s going to start leaking soon, cock straining against his boxers. And your start palming lightly at it like the little minx you are. He spots a massive car wash that appears vacant out of the corner of his eye and flicks on the blinker.

Your hand’s started rubbing and palming at him through his boxers. The head of his cock smears precum on the inside of them, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His hand shakes while turning the AC on full blast, desperate for something to cool him off. Glancing at the mirror, he merges over a few lanes and turns into the car wash.

When the car pulls in, you remove your hand and blink a little. Katsuki wordlessly grabs his wallet from the center console and shoves his card in, picking the most expensive and extensive wash he can.

“I thought we were going home..” Your brows furrow, looking around a little.

“Nope.” He pops the “p” and pulls in before putting the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. His seat slides back a little to give him some leg room. Large sprayers begin to cover the car in foam and soap. The loud scrubbers going to work.

Katsuki tugs at the waistband of his boxers, setting his cock free. It springs up toward his tummy while slick substance dribbles from the tip of it. He gives it a little stroke as his head falls back, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip. His eyes are half lidded when he looks at you and grunts.

“Get the fuck over here and suck.” He reaches a hand under the side of his seat and leans the seat back a little more. You nod and unbuckle the seatbelt.

Your fingers wrap around him and stroke in a wringing motion. His cock twitches in your hand and he pants. Heat spreads all over both of your bodies and the car wash is so loud you can only hear eachother. His breaths come out in short pants like he’s catching it.

“Fuck, yeah, like that pretty.” His tanned jaw drops a little when your tongue lays flat against the head.

You lap at the precum like it’s your favorite thing on the earth to taste. His fingers thread through your hair, tugging at the roots and pushing your head down. Katsuki resists every urge to buck up into your mouth the best he can despite the coil tightly winding in his tummy. But you’re doing so good.

Sucking him like a champ, slurping and making a mess. Spit dribbles down toward his balls but soaks into the waistband of his boxers. And then you’re sinking down and humming, hand reaching down. He grabs at the side of the car door and braces himself. He can’t keep quiet, letting out long strings of groans and moans. The praise makes your pussy soak through your panties and you think about rubbing your clit for relief.

“God, take it. Suck my cock, yeah, yeah, shit.”

That’s all it takes to spur you on. You press a finger near his taint and watch his face scrunch. The car smells like his sweat and those stupid air refresher clips in the vents, leather seats becoming slippery from your fun. Your lips pop off him wetly and you look up to him with such pretty, doey eyes, that he almost cums then. His forearm veins peek out to play as the car door gets squeezed in a death grip. Your lips wrap around the head of his cock and you suck. Hard. Simultaneously you press the finger past the ring of muscle and up to a knuckle. Your hand strokes what you can’t fit in your mouth, trying to focus.

And just like that the band snaps. Euphoria wracks his body and he fucks up into your mouth, head thrown back as he sings expletives and spills. It seeps from your lips, despite you trying to swallow it all down, but you use a tongue to swipe it up.

“Oh god, god-” He whimpers out while riding out the high.

Katsuki feels like his entire body is strung high for a moment. His chest heaves and his fingers shake when you pull your mouth off him and give him a quick kiss.Your pussy is soaked and your clit throbs like it has a heartbeat of it own. Sweat has built at the back of his neck and his nipples stay perked. You glance at the lights in the carwash and see there’s still four other things left. Something about scent and bug shield— you don’t know, there’s suds of different colors all over the windows.

You swipe a thumb over his nipple while keeping a finger still in his ass. He whimpers at that and presses his lips into a thin line, gripping your arm so hard it might bruise if he squeezes any tighter. But you persist and stroke his cock with fever.

“I can’t, oh, god baby I can’t it’s-” Katsuki whines out and shakes. His voice goes up in pitch for a moment while desperately trying to hang on to his sanity. You tighten your fingers around him and start pressing the finger inside him upwards.

His body spasms then goes completely still. Katsuki’s entire body is tight on a string, the only thing keeping him on this god forsaken earth being your pretty hands. Heaven wraps him up in a blanket and makes his chest wrack. Carmine eyes roll back, the hand that was once gripping your forearm now dragging nails down it. Your pussy clenches around nothing and the breath is knocked out of you in awe.

Hot white ropes spill all over your hand. You quickly move the finger out of his asshole and instead use it to anchor you on the seat while you suck the cum off of his cock. It twitches in your hand and mouth with sensitivity. You’re addicted to him, is reactions, his cum— like they’re a drug.

Lust clouds your mind heavier than it possibly ever has when you look into his half lidded eyes. He’s swallowing your pretty little soul whole and making it a home, making it his. Cum dribbles off the corner of your lip and Katsuki leans forward to lick it off for you.

His breathing slows and he tosses his head back with a breathy laugh. The car begins to be rinsed and you reach into the console for emergency wipes and toss one on his softening member. He cleans up with a wince and wipes some from your neck while you focus on your hands getting clean.

“We should come here more.” Katsuki suggests wit a cheeky grin, brow raised and pants now buttoned again.

“Absolutely. For now.. Let’s get home before I make you pay for another round and eat me out.” You buckle your seatbelt and roll your eyes with a snicker.

You look at him with a fire in your eyes and puffy lips. You grab his hand and kiss his knuckles again, this time linking your fingers together before he pulls out of the car wash and heads home.

1K notes · View notes

yandere-wishes · 5 months ago

Text

⋆⭒˚．⋆ Ｄｉｄｎ＇ｔＭｅａｎＴｏＳａｙＩＬｏｖｅＹｏｕ ⋆⭒˚．⋆

⋆｡‧˚˚ Yandere!Acolyte Men x Reader ˚˚‧｡⋆

⋆ ˚｡♡ 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝐿𝓎𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓈 ♡ ˚｡⋆

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽☀︎☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

✩彡 Master Sol - Bittersuite | استاد سول

I can't fall in love with you.

He's choking on his guilt again. Scorching memories reciting hymns of fire and black smoke. He can not love, he can not pine, his romances always end in doom. End in bitter blood drenching stars and ghosts scattered across solar systems. Sol can not love you, he must not love you. You're safer out of his reach.

L'amour de ma vie.

He wants to be the one, etching galaxies across your heart and spilling stars into your bones with every kiss. Your smile dips his world in midday pink, all roses and sun blooms. Your voice trails after him, haunting halls and abandoned training rooms. Your name sticks inside his throat, sticky caramel abrading his tongue to be let loose. Love of his life.

Love so bittersweet.

There are other universes, he likes to think, where his mistakes are little and he has the right to hold you in his arms. You call out to him during missions, all epithets and formality, he longs to hear to say 'Sol'. just 'Sol'.

Longs to kiss you in the dark where his memories can't reach him. You're so bittersweet…

"(Y/n)…"

⭒⭒✮ Yord Fandar - Halley’s Comet | یورد فندار

I don't want it.

He chews on the thought of you, sour under his tongue. He watches you parry under the stars, saber humming orthodox hymns. He can spill lies from his lips like coronal rain. But the confession never sticks, he shouldn't want this, want you.

And I don't want to want you.

In his dreams he's more honest, leaving a galaxy of love bites across the vast expansion of your essence. Kissing the dark corners of your eyes and sucking tenderly on the pearls of your spine, open-mouthed when he reaches your nape. Curling fingers in the nebula of your hair. You sing his name so freely it has him seeing stars.

But you're all it takes to break a promise.

He kisses you, against the temple wall, drinking in your devotion like elysian ichor. The stars in your eyes explode, whispering tenets between each breath. He feels the force reverberating between your bones, holy, ethereal. This is wrong, fundamentally, spiritual, he doesn't want to want you…But he has to.

"I, I need you."

༻｡｡☾ Qimir - Bossa Nova | قیمیر

Love when it makes you lose your bearings.

His love is an asteroid field, cataclysmic and labyrinthine, always dodging bullets aimed point blank at tattered hearts. He's always caught wondering who's truly lost. You or him. Swimming through wandering stars and pretending it's just a force-willed romance. But love doesn't lie to keep one compliant. Caging you between quasars and stella novae.

Some information is not for sharing.

"Eyes down, you've not yet earned to see my face"

You obey, little lamb that you are. Eyes tracing the ebony of his boots. He wonders if he should tell you, grasp your chin, and force his mask off. Shatter your world with his eyes. But you're too cute like this, pining after your master and playing little lovers with Qimir. It's torture most sweetly, he traces the crown of your hair with metal instead of lips, whispering sabbath shibboleths into your head. His love is red in every way.

A lot can change in twenty seconds. A lot can happen in the dark.

The cave is pitch dark, hidden from prying moonlight. It's in the dark that Sith revel in the dark that they renew. Qimir knows some things can only be confessed in blood. That's why he pushes the jagged edges of stars between your lips. Apex of your throat in hand forcing you beneath him. You giggle stardust as he marrs your bones, kissing cuts and open wounds. He lets his mask slide off, to the tune of your heartbeat. Savoring its clank and all it entails. Your shock and fear taste delicious on his tongue as does your fruitless struggle. He kisses you again all passion and possession. He likes you better when you taste of horror and shattered realities.

"You belong to me..."

✧࿐ Torbin - Birds of a Feather | توربین

We should stick together.

You pull him through the temple, laughing as you run away from another angry master. Torbin follows lovestruck, he sees peace in your eyes, in your smile. Hears it in the candance of your voice. He kisses your knuckles when you beat him at saber practice and passes you heart-shaped sticky notes during lessons. He wants to be here with you forever. Together in an eternal blush.

I'd never think I wasn't better alone.

He whispers your name between breaths, kissing each syllable. He traces your face in the stars, cursing the remote planets he's been sent to. He misses you, but the phrase is never quite worded right, his master can never know, never understand the rhyme behind his eagerness.

Home, home, home. He repeats the words with frantic reverence. Home is where the lights paint you in their heavenly glow. Where you hold his hand and kiss fireflies across his cheek. Home is you, it's always been you…

I'll love you 'til the day that I die.

You trace the scar across his eye, dejected. Torbin kisses the hollow of your palm, basking in your presence. He made it back to you, that's all that matters. Not the witches or the massacred planet. Not the disappointment of his master or Sol's new apprentice. You're the only thing that matters to him, the only thing that has ever mattered.

"Stay with me forever my love."

Happy final week of the Acolyte!! It's been a great 7 weeks ~💜

293 notes · View notes

kissitbttr · 9 months ago

Text

“toji, baby? can you do alena’s hair please?” you call out from the kitchen, fixing simple breakfast for your little family,

he nods at you, giving a short kiss on your cheek as a confirmation before heading towards his little girl’s play pen. his eyes brighten when alena is busying herself with her my little pony plushies, adorable messy hair comes into view making him chuckle,

“hey ya sweetheart, having fun?” toji walks around to face his pretty baby, the sound of her dad’s voice causing her to look up. he swears the moment her big round eyes stare at him, he’s ready to kill anyone who dares to try take his daughter away,

with a toothy smile, she babbles away while clapping her chubby hands. feeling excited to see her dad there, seemingly cannot wait to be picked up by him,

“aren’t you the prettiest girl i have ever seen, hm? aside from mama of course. dunno what she sees in me. she’s a ten and i’m not. i’m happy she chose me, though. such a lucky bastard” toji makes sure to whisper the last word to himself because he doesn’t want his daughter to hear him cuss.

his hands go under her armpits before lifting her up, little legs kicking away in excitement making toji chuckles. “time to do my little alena’s hair!”

he brings her to the baby chair near the dining room, where you can see it too. your eyes look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of him setting your baby down,

“got anything to work on today?”

toji shakes his head, rolling the sleeves of his sweater up to the elbows. “nah. took a day off. i’m letting shiu handling it today”

one of your eyebrows quirks up, turning out to plate the cut up fruits and eggs on the table. “oh yeah? what if there’s something really important come up that you need to—“

“i need my girls more” he cuts you off with a soft voice and a grin, his eyes look up to you and see you mirroring his smile but it’s much more prettier to him. “plus, i’m sure they can handle not having their ceo for today. and tomorrow. maybe”

his fingers move to thread lightly under the strands of alena’s hair as she toys with a little action figure toji had gifted her few days prior. it keeps herself busied while he’s doing her hair,

“how about you, baby? got any meetings or anything?”

you shrug, grabbing a few utensils. “just one with the team to discuss the launch of our newest design. should be quick, though. hopefully. i need to speed up the process and everything because it seems that everyone is fuc—freaking slow.”

he chuckles, tying a band around alena’s mini bun. “i’m sure you can handle it, darling. you’re ruthless like that. one of the reasons why i fell on love with you, is it?”

“would you still, if i had to kill them?”

“absolutely” he answers without hesitation making you laugh,

“god, we are bad parents”

“don’t know what you’re talking about. we’re pretty good at what we’re doing” toji smiles at his baby, who suddenly chucks the toy towards the table. “damn, our baby got strength”

“got that from you, i think” you lean towards the table and snatch a cut up strawberry before plucking it into your mouth,

“nope. that’s from you” he corrects, softly patting alena’s hair that are sticking out. “remember when we had an argument and you almost hit me with—“

“we do not talk about that” you shake your head, not wanting to remember,

“was pretty sexy to me” he replies casually. “i was so turned on by that”

both of you share a laugh, causing alena to look up at both of you at the sound of it.

“so—do i get to see my pretty wife’s latest design or—“ toji trails off, planting a kiss on alena’s chubby cheek before grabbing a handful of berries for himself,

you tilt your head to the side, a small smirk tugs upon your lips and toji immediately catches what that look meant for,

“i see trouble” he eyes you for a second, chewing on the juicy fruit. “is it sexy? god, if it was you can’t keep teasing me, baby. i’d die”

“so dramatic, you won’t die”

“i will for you though” and he means it. “is it dresses? leather involved perhaps?”

shaking your head, you reply “lingeries, babe. night gowns, garters, panties. all that”

and toji suddenly stops moving. breathing even. his eyes widening at the mention of lingeries,

“oh fuck. you are killing me.”

“toji! language!”

but alena just laughs at her silly banter between her parents

#dad!toji #toji fushiguro #toji fluff

408 notes · View notes

undreaming-fanfiction · 4 months ago

Text

Ghosts

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, inspired by Dead Boy Detectives if you couldn't tell.

Steve should have seen it coming, really. Despite dating, driving the gang around, and being silly with Robin, he'd known for a long time he wouldn't live long enough to amount to anything. Everyone had plans, had a future. But Steve? He'd be lucky if he could give his imminent death a meaning.

Turns out, he couldn't. Or at least, not in the way he wanted.

It didn't matter if it was the guilt he'd been feeling ever since Eddie died and Max ended up brain dead, poor judgment, or simply wanting for the wait to already be over. Whatever the reason, he pulled "an Eddie" in August 1986. He didn't even ask, he just ran out as a distraction while the rest of his friends were trying to evacuate Max from the overran hospital. He got a few swings in, they got a few chomps. Then more than a few. In the end, he way lying on the ground, bleeding out, but his efforts didn't seem to matter. As soon as he took his last breath, the monsters just turned around and went back to Max's room. Steve didn't even have enough time to pray he'd bought them enough time.

"Oh shit. Stupid. So stupid."

Steve froze, or at least got startled. Which was something, you know, for a dead guy. If this was the voice of an angel welcoming him to the afterlife, it sure sounded like-

"Did I look this dumb when I died? I hope not. Why the fuck would you do that, Harrington, huh? Thought they no longer needed you? Can you imagine what it's going to do to Dustin when he finds out?"

Munson.

Steve opened his eyes and sat up. Nothing hurt. Weird.

What was even weirder? He came face to face with Edward Munson, recently deceased.

Eddie shrieked and fell back on his ass. He'd probably been crouching over Steve, but now he was splayed on the hospital floor, gaping at Steve as if he'd seen a-

Oh. Okay.

Steve turned around and grimaced. He was sitting in his own mangled corpse, which he wasn't too thrilled about. He sprung to his feet and, after giving his bloodied face one last look - they didn't get the hair, phew! - turned to Munson. "Fancy meeting you here. Are you, like, my afterlife welcoming comittee?"

Eddie made a vain effort to close his mouth. "Uh, no. Not really. I mean, there probably is someone coming to get you, but if you don't mind, I won't stick around for that. I don't think Death likes me very much, after I bolted on her."

Steve blinked in confusion. "Death…is a woman?"

"Oh yep. Very nice. Didn't even chase me when I freaked out and ran. Um. But you might want to wait for her. I will stick around for a bit longer." Even in death, Eddie hadn't changed. He pulled a strand of his hair in front of his face, and Steve wondered if he could chew on it, now that he was a ghost.

"But why? What is there to do?" Steve paused, thinking. "Wait. Is there something we can actually do? To help?"

That made Eddie laugh, although it was weak and incredulous. "Uh. Harrington. You've just died in like, a pretty painful and sadly heroic way, and your first thought is that you haven't done enough?"

"Doesn't feel like I have. Look," he said, offering Eddie a hand to pull him up, "if Death is coming, I'd rather not be here. Can we go and check on the others?" He wiggled his fingers at Eddie when he didn't respond.

The wiggle must have jolted Eddie's brain awake because he took Steve's hand. It was weird - he could feel the pressure where Eddie's hand met his, but there was no warmth, no texture. Possibly no pain, he thought. Useful.

"Right," Eddie cleared his throat. "Let's go. Just a bit of a warning - I think Will can see us. At least he looked very suspicious when I tried to sneak into your house when you all were staying there, and when I told him to just pretend he didn't notice anything, he nodded. So, uh. I guess he's special or something?"

They would learn quite a few things in their new existence. First of all, Will wasn't special. He just fit the criteria of "nearly died in the Upside Down or the newly merged realities", not just by being in danger, but being so close to death he almost didn't make it. Turns out, Hopper could see them too after his near death experience under the mall, and Hopper couldn't just be shushed.

Half-corporeal hugs were exchanged. Tears were shed, especially by Dustin and Robin. But they were all still together, for now. The danger was near and their grief had to wait.

By not quite so safe experimentation, Steve and Eddie found out that only two things could hurt them - other ghosts and iron. Luckily enough, none of the Upside Down creatures qualified as either. And so the party gained an invisible and indestructible vanguard - Eddie and Steve, both wielding their weapons of choice (Steve was overjoyed that he could just pick up his nail bat, and maybe that was a bit of a giveaway, seeing the bat floating towards the party with no body to hold it). They scouted ahead and reported back, either to Will and Hopper, or just by angrily scribbling in a notebook provided by Nancy. They couldn't sleep, so they would watch over the party in the night, allowing them the so much needed rest.

The months dragged on. Eleven kept her promise and saved Max, and when the pale redhead saw Eddie and Steve even with her damaged eyesight, no one was surprised. And as Upside Down crept further into their world, there were more injuries, more near death experiences, more tearful reunions. After being bitten by a demodog and almost bleeding out, Robin flung herself at Steve the second she could move and babbled about him being the absolute biggest idiot there ever was. He didn't dispute it, but hugged her tighter.

They were making progress. Still not enough to fix things, but they were getting there. And Steve's brain started another countdown to his and Eddie's potential second demise.

"Do you think we'll still be around, when the portal is closed?" he asked Eddie during one of their night vigils. "What if it's just the Upside Down that's keeping us here?"

Eddie, scribbling in a notebook, shrugged. "I don't know, and for the first time in my life - well, death - I don't have enough information to panic about that." He chewed on the pencil, meeting Steve's eyes with caution. "Might be nice though," he said slowly, "to stay. Do some more good, make sure everyone's safe. If you're in."

Steve laughed. "Wait. Are you, Eddie Munson, the mortal enemy of jocks, asking me to join you? Even when we're not neck deep in shit?"

"Mortal enemy…I mean, I lost the mortal part, and it felt so mundane to just keep the enemy. So yes, one position if Eddie Munson's afterlife has just opened up. Will Steven Harrington join me in it?"

Steve thought about it, and maybe he should have thought longer. Maybe he should have considered that eternity is a pretty long time, but his infrequent visits to the church taught him that heaven would mean being with his loved ones. He'd still be around if the party needed him. He'd see Robin off to college. And then, when everyone left…it would be just him and Eddie.

Him and Eddie. What a thought.

He winked at Eddie who, for a ghost, looked like he was sweating bullets. "Take me to the movies first, Munson, and I'm all yours." And then, even if he know neither of them would feel it, he covered Eddie's hand with his. He might have been imagining the gentle spark of warmth, but he decided it was real. He knew it was real.

Eddie smiled at him and interlaced his fingers with Steve's. "I can work with that, big boy."

And for the first time in so many years, the countdown in Steve's head stopped.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddieangstyaugust #steddie ficlet #I am still sick and very unfocused #But I will write at least a few of these prompts if it kills me

201 notes · View notes

inkbybambi · 1 year ago

Text

⚜️ pornstar!ghost who's so, so in love with you —

words: 3.8k tags: smut, creampie, pet names (good girl, love, darling, etc), throat holding, no use of y/n, fem!reader, ghost and reader are so in love with each other, biting/marking, mentions of sex work. notes: inspired by @ghosts-cyphera 's pornstar!ghost. thank you so, so much for creating him and for letting me bite him and chew him like a squeaky toy. please read the original here and give it lots of love! here is the playlist i made while writing — a mixture of soft and sweet and filthy and everything in between. minors dni, my blog is 18+.

in the muffled quiet of the bathroom, you take a deep breath. your heart beats in time with the rhythmic thumping of the bass that reverberates throughout the flat. that same steady beat of edm songs has been on repeat since you arrived at the party, and your blood hums with the vibrations. you love parties; the drinks, the snacks, the absolute unhinged bullshit that can only be achieved by those in front and behind the camera.

you’re surprised there hasn’t been a noise complaint.

you slip from the bathroom, perhaps just a little tipsy, the warmth of the drinks and the atmosphere thread through your blood like fire, the colored flashing lights casting everything in a multi-colored glow. you move through the crowd to find the one person who means more than the entire world and —

he’s sitting on the couch, pretending to listen to one of the newer talents; she’s a touch too close, fingers reaching out to graze his forearm. he doesn’t even blink twice before he’s pulling his arm away, pretending to adjust his watch as his eyes sweep the room.

as soon as his gaze lands on you, he straightens up, leaning forward in anticipation. the other girl looks put off but neither of you pay her any mind as you make your way to him, crawling onto the couch where he’s (been) waiting for you.

you nestle into his side, taking the red, plastic cup you trusted him with when you went to the bathroom. you take a small sip.

“this isn’t my drink,” you tell him.

“you’re right.”

you pout at him, eyes glittering with the lights.

he looks at you expectedly, pointedly looking at the cup and giving you that look. the one he gives you whenever he wants you to do something, and you always listen.

you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out at him, before dutifully drinking the water that he’s so graciously filled your cup with instead of whatever fruity and far-too-strong cocktail the host had conjured up. he snorts, rolling his eyes fondly as he slings an arm across the back of the couch.

when half the cup is gone, you look back at him, doe-eyes big and glassy, the need for praise and approval simmering under the surface. even in the low light of the room, you see how his eyes soften as he takes you in. his hand comes up to cup your face, cradling it. you close your eyes, nuzzling into his palm as you enjoy the moment of calm. as his thumb gently wipes under your eye, your eyes flutter back open to focus on him, and he tilts his head as he assesses you.

this moment is just for you two. even in a room full of people, you’re unable to focus on anything but him.

he glances at his wrist to check his watch — the one you gave him for his birthday last year and the one that’s been on his wrist ever since, not even taking it off to film unless absolutely necessary.

(and if he got you a bracelet that matched his watch as close as possible for your birthday? neither of you mention it, but you know.)

ghost’s never been one for social niceties —preferring to keep to himself — and you know you haven’t been here too terribly long, only one drink deep, but both of you have a rare day off together and he’d rather be alone with you for as long as possible than at this last minute thrown together “party” by a few colleagues.

he leans in close to graze his covered mouth against your jaw — he never takes off the skull mask, except when he’s alone with you.

("it's part of my charm," he claims, grin stretching across his lips, getting ready for his first shoot of the day. you bite back an amused smile, sitting in front of him and fussing until he sits still so you can paint on his eye black.)

“i think it’s time i took you home, princess.”

and christ, his voice.

it's well known you’re closer than most, so it’s not terribly surprising when you arrive and leave together and generally stick to each other like glue.

you press your lips right against the sensitive skin behind his ear, brushing against the fabric, voice masked by the music but still keeping it low enough so only he hears.

“then take me home, simon.”

his eyes flash dangerously, taking your cup and abandoning it on the coffee table. his large hand dwarfs your own as he drags you off the couch.

you didn’t say hello to anyone in particular when you arrived and you don’t stop to let anyone know you're leaving. you’re too focused on his thumb running across the ridge of your knuckles, the way he laces your fingers together, how you two fit so well together.

if there was a red string tied to your pinky, you know it would lead you right to him.

the ride back to your flat is spent with his hand on your thigh, hot and possessive like a brand.

there's something different about tonight. ghost's touch lingers, as if he doesn't want to be without you for even a second, and you're drawn to him like a moth to flame, helpless to do anything but get as close as you can, hoping you won't burn and turn to ash.

you know exactly where the night is leading when he pulls you to your bedroom, the soft glow of your bedside lamp casting everything in a halo of warm, dim light.

ghost turns to you, hands on your hips, pulling you closer. you fingers tease the edge of his mask, hooking under the familiar fabric and starting to drag up. you pause as his lips come to view, watching him carefully.

glassy eyes meet yours and you forget to breathe for a moment. you want to capture the warmth swirling in his eyes, keep it close on the days that are dark and dreary, on the days that only he makes better.

you pull the rest of the covering off, his hair slightly ruffled, haloed by the light.

a delicate smile graces your lips, reaching a hand up to run your fingers along his jaw — a motion so familiar, a motion repeated in front of cameras and bright lights and others watching. he's sharp lines and features carved from marble but he's so soft, a comfort you can't name when you're with him.

he looks like an angel, heaven-sent.

"whatcha you thinkin', pretty girl?" he asks, voice low, accent thick, capturing your wandering fingers and pressing a kiss to your inner wrist, right beneath your bracelet.

you don't say anything, continuing to admire him, biting your lip. you're afraid to speak. afraid to give a name to these emotions that have settled into your bones and blood, seared into you.

for now, you keep those words locked in your heart, protected by ribs and flesh and walls that he so carefully picks apart with his teeth and tongue and fingers.

you shake your head instead of answering him, a gentle smile gracing your lips, threading your fingers through his hair. it's fluffy and a bit on the long side. he showered as soon as he was off work. he never wants others lingering on his skin.

you tip up on your toes enough to capture his lips with yours, biting at his bottom lip.

he presses you up against the wall, mouth hot and wet on yours. he licks deep into your mouth, fingers lacing in your hair. you grip the front of his shirt, mewling into his mouth as he kisses you like he'll never get to again.

some of your lipstick is smeared on his lips when he pulls away, eyes black. you shiver under his stare.

you press a tantalizing kiss to his jaw, teeth nipping.

"want to film it?" a mischievous smile paints your lips, hands raking lower to hook into the hem of his shirt.

both you and ghost have quite a collection of videos and pictures of you two, hidden behind locked albums and passwords. it's a testament of trust — one that's been carefully built and protected, tucked away where only you two know.

"not this time," he replies, voice soft, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. he cups your jaw gently, wiping away smudged mascara. "this is just for you n' me."

you swallow thickly, choking down words threatening to spill from you. the temptation to say something lingers on your tongue, pressing behind your teeth, daring you to take a bite.

the kiss you press to his lips is far softer than anything, heat just below the surface.

ghost doesn't make a habit of kissing those he's filming with. a bite or two, something more vicious and rough — but with you? sometimes he'll kiss you like you're glass, afraid of marring you, breaking you. other times, it's all heat and liquid fire, consuming you and all you think about for days after.

he'd wake up every day kissing you if he could.

your clothes are a mess on the floor, not that you particularly care right now.

not with the way ghost is pressing his weight down on you so deliciously, hot and heavy, devouring you. he cages you between his thick forearms, barely giving you room to breathe, biting and nipping and licking deep into your mouth until your lips are shiny and swollen, pupils blown so wide, they're practically black.

"wish i could be the only one to see you like this," he pants against the hinge of your jaw, dragging teeth and tongue down your body.

the urge to bite and bruise and mark clouds his mind, wanting nothing more than to bury his teeth into the supple flesh of your thigh, until the imprint of his teeth lasts for days.

surprisingly soft hands part your thighs, baring your glistening desire to his burning gaze.

but that's not what he's looking at.

he's unable to look away from the temporary tattoo that's fading on your skin. it's been washed away from your time on set — spit and water and release coating your skin — but it's unmistakable.

a ghost.

"what's this?" he asks, thumb stroking over the faded lines of the tattoo, breathless.

you rise up on your elbows, desire thick through your veins. you don't have to look to know what he's asking about. but you look anyways, mesmerized by his thumb grazing over your skin.

"the girls and i had some on set," you begin, voice soft. "we were filming in a bath so we figured why not, y'know?"

he looks up from between your legs, predatory and possessive.

you lick your bottom lip, feeling bold.

"thought it might be cute to have you with me," you say, a whispered confession.

ghost looks like he's repenting for his sins, kneeling between you legs. you thread your fingers through his hair, arching your hips up, failing to bite back the whine rising in your throat, needing him impossibly closer.

“oh, love.” his voice is rough, wrecked, dragging his lips over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teasing right along the edge of where the ghost fades. “let’s give you something a little more permanent, hm?”

he shouldn’t — he really shouldn’t — but the urge, the need to mark you is overwhelming. it overrides every other rational thought.

he sees the way others look at you. he'll watch your videos — out of curiosity and not jealousy, he tells himself — and see the way your co-stars have this star-struck, pussydrunk look about them. he never brings himself to finish watching the videos.

his teeth sink into your skin, a sharp shock of electricity and want flooding your senses. your nails dig into his scalp, hissing out a breath between your teeth. his teeth are deep, and you can't find yourself to care. arousal leaks from your cunt, begging to be touched and filled and claimed.

ghost eventually withdraws his teeth. you sink down into the mattress, tension seeping from your body. the sting of the mark he left becomes a focal point of your attention, body buzzing and thrumming with arousal as ghost licks thick stripes to soothe the deep impression, admiring his work .

"laswell's gonna kill you," you mumble, moving to cradle the back of his head, trying to pull him up.

he goes willingly.

his eyes sparkle, a cocky smirk painted on his lips as he drags them from your cheek to your lips, indulging in a slow kiss, tongue pushing in your mouth and licking along the edges of your teeth, grazing the roof of your mouth.

"good thing i don't care what laswell thinks," he says against your lips when he pulls away, continuing the path of his kisses down your jaw to your throat, pressing delicate kisses to your pulse.

his cock lays against your hip, thick and pulsing and dripping pre-cum. you lace your legs up around his waist, heels of your feet resting delicately at his sides.

one arm cages you in while he uses his other hand to push your hair back from your face, lips tracing a path from your forehead down your temple, right above your ear.

"and me?" you ask against his jaw, wrapping around your arms around broad shoulders, enticing him to lay more of his weight down on you.

"and you what, sweet thing?" his reply comes so quick, so fluid, like he was waiting for you to ask.

"do you care what i think?"

he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek before pulling back to look at you in a way only he can. you've seen — felt — the stares of your coworkers when you're filming.

it never compares to how ghost — simon — looks at you. like you were made only for him (and maybe you were, you think, from time to time); like you were the moon and he was so desperately trying to be the stars to be close to you; like his every breath began and ended with you.

he doesn't answer you with words. he's never been a man of many words, anyway.

he cups your jaw so softly, thumb brushing along your cheek. his eyes are so bright, his touch is always so gentle.

you can't remember life before he came into it, a blur of memories and moments lost to time. all you know now is that you can't — won't — go through life without him by your side, so deeply entwined in your blood and bones and soul.

his mouth is warm and tender against yours, and it's so easy to lose yourself to the comfort and the haven he has become. he kisses you like his life depends on it, like he'll stop breathing if he lets you go.

his fingers skim along your sides, down your spine and to your hip, tilting you up against him until your ass is resting against his thighs, cock hot and heavy and leaking right above your clit.

he carefully guides himself down your cunt, slipping himself between your folds, gathering your slick, before notching the fat head at your entrance and you ache.

he's so big — bigger than any of your coworkers, anyone you've slept with outside work — but he pushes himself so easily into your soaking pussy, walls fluttering around each inch that sinks into you. you feel so fucking full of him, the stretch a pleasant burn that ignites in your belly, lighting up your nerves like a wildfire.

always a little delirious when he pushes into you, consumed by the tight, wet heat of your cunt, he pants against your cheek, cradling you against his chest.

you fold yourself into him, legs hitching higher, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. you lick at the sweat clinging to his skin, cologne sticking to your tongue.

without any words, he knows when you're ready. you always need a moment to adjust to his size, feeling the deep, steadying breaths you take. he pulls out slowly, carefully, until the tip rests at your entrance, before snapping his hips back against yours. his lips fall to the column of your throat, feeling each moan he pulls from you, each whimper and whine.

you love the way he fucks you for work. it doesn’t feel like it’s work, not with him, never with him. you try not to dream too much about being able to keep him all for yourself.

this feels different. this is different. deep, slow thrusts, lingering kisses, noses brushing, breathing in each other.

your name sounds like a prayer on his lips, as he takes your fingers to kiss them before lacing them together, pressing your joined hands above you on the pillow.

your vision is hazy, clouded over with pleasure, barely able to keep your eyes open with each deep, steady thrust, his cock kissing the tip of your cervix.

"look at me, sweetheart," he begs, accent slurred and thick, eyes so dark and inviting. you want to lose yourself entirely to him.

maybe you already have.

"you don't even know what you do to me," he whispers against your lips, keeping his confession sacred between you. your breath stutters in your throat, unable to choke down the thoughts drowning you, a tear slipping down the side of your cheek.

he chases it with his lips, placing softer kisses to your eyelids, and then above your brow, moving down your nose to the bow of your lips. your nails dig into his sides, trying to convey each muddled thought through your touch, marking and marring him and staking your claim.

a sharp inhale follows a deeper thrust, choking out his name as pleasure floods your veins like venom, overtaking you.

"there?" he breathes, nails digging into your hip to keep you steady. voice lost, all you do is nod and mewl, pressing your breasts up against his chest, always needing him closer.

"yeah, baby, i know," he says, almost laughing, arm lacing around your waist to press you flush against him, his other hand tangling in the sheets beside your head.

with anyone else, you'd roll your eyes and scoff at the arrogance. but with ghost? you're so pliant and loose in his grip, letting him do whatever he wants with you, so submissive and obedient, only for him.

"oh, you've needed this ever since we got to the party, hm?" his teeth graze your neck, down to your collar, right above the curve of your breast. "bet you would've let me fuck you in the bathroom, hm? let my cum leak out of you for everyone to see, let them know that you're mine?"

his thrusts are sharper, meaner. it's everything you want, eyes rolling in the back of your head as the pleasure burns hotter and hotter, the precipice of release right there. the sound of your cunt drawing him in deeper with each smack of his hips against yours fills the room, each moan accented with your pussy gushing around him, his cock coated in your desire.

"gonna be my good girl and cum for me?" his voice is so rough, a hand around your throat forcing you to look at him, mouth open as you pant out each breath, unable to think of anything but his name.

unable to think of anything but your first name with his last, a contract with your names, a band around your finger.

you can only whine out a yes, please, fuck please, want to cum for you. the fingers around your throat tighten, the edges of your vision seeping black.

a sharp bite to your shoulder is the catalyst for your orgasm. thighs shaking, a moan of his name weak in your throat, your cum coating the tantalizing line of hair from his bellybutton to his cock, dripping down your thighs.

"fuckin' hell," he growls against your skin, snapping his hips hard, grazing your clit twice, three times, before you feel his spend paint your insides. thick, hot spurts of his cum pulse from his cock, drawing out your own orgasm and making your brain static with pleasure.

a mixture of his cum and yours spill out from the edges of where he's buried inside you. his cock pulses a few more times as he comes down from his high, skin slick with sweat that's rapidly cooling.

he presses his entire weight down onto you, burying his face into your neck as your nose buries into his hair. sex and release and the last dregs of your perfume permeate the air.

you card your fingers gently through his hair, a comfortable silence lingering as you both fight to catch your breath. he needs a haircut, fingers tangling in the length. maybe he'll let you give him one tomorrow.

his body sinks deeper into yours, his breath even and steady to the point where you think he might've fallen asleep inside you. you're not about to wake him.

“have you ever thought about leaving?” you ask, hesitant, letting your question linger in the air.

“the industry?” comes his reply a moment later.

you hum in acknowledgement.

he takes another moment more to think, before his answer comes, muffled against your throat. “sometimes, yeah."

“if i left, would you leave with me?”

his reply comes not even a second later, without any hesitation.

“my love, i go where you go."

you're glad he's tucked into your neck, arms wrapping around him protectively, possessively, throat clicking as you swallow. more tears slip down your cheeks, burning a path down your cheeks and settling in his hair. your eyes close as the emotions threaten to burst from your chest, a weak attempt to maintain your composure.

you can only hold back so much.

“do you believe in soulmates?” you ask, significantly softer. you only ask when you're confident your voice won't betray you. the crack gives you away.

ghost is silent, inhaling the scent of sex and sweat and you.

"'m not sure," he replies. he sounds worried, unsure. your heart beats painfully.

he's scared you're going to leave.

you'll never leave him.

“maybe they’re not in this world," you say, fingers tracing along his shoulders and down his spine. "maybe in another, another life, another place."

he shivers under your gentle touch.

"i think you’re mine," you say, heart beating and aching and tearing at the seams; so, so scared of your confession. "i can’t imagine going through this life without you.”

his voice, so much stronger, more confident and brazen and sure comes after a heartbeat.

“good thing you’ll never have to, darling.”

#ink by bambi #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley/reader #simon riley/you #ghost/reader #ghost/you #simon riley smut #modern warfare smut #simon riley imagine #modern warfare imagine

834 notes · View notes

harpsinfinity · 9 months ago

Note

Phone sex with the 141 men….. 🤭🤭

Your wish is my commander pookster 😼

You finally pick up the call, he had been out on deployment and it's been weeks since you'd heard the sweet rumble of his voice

"hey love" there it was, the voice that always you melting into a gooey puddle

"Hey, how's everything going?" You chew your bottom lip, waiting to hear the lift of injuries he'd obtained

"don' ask about me, jus' talk about your day"

You started to ramble on about your day, telling him everything, even about that one bitch at work. As you rambled, you couldn't miss the occasional groan he let slide through the speaker

"honey? You okay?" Your worry about his possible injuries melts as you hear the deep rasp of his voice, a rasp full of desire

"yeah, yeah m'alrigh'..keep talkin'"

A smirk tugged at your lips as you realised he was getting off to your voice, you could hear the faint sound of his hand moving up and down his cock, probably wishing it was your pussy around him instead of his fist

It made you throb, slick and heat pooled between your legs, creating a mess of want and need

You slip a hand into your panties, a wanton finger circling your clit. Your brows furrowed and the start of pleasure zapped through you.

You were both getting off to eachother without trying to alert either of you

You tried to remember what you were talking about, but the sickly sweet movement of your fingers, wishing they were his fingers, rubbing on your engored little bud, making there way to your leaking entrance, it made it so much harder to remember

And to keep quiet

"um..s-so..how the mission goi- mmph !"

You slam a hand over your mouth, mentally cursing yourself, until you heard a deep chuckle from the end of the photo

"guess we both gettin' off to eachother" he groaned as he thumbed his tip, the fact you were getting off too, sticking your fingers into your sopping cunt all because of him, made him throb

"c'mon love, stick those little fingers in tha' cunt and lemme hear you"

243 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 2 years ago

Note

Hi Jade 🫶🏻 I have a drabble request if you’re still taking them: Jungkook gets home from tour and is just the clingiest, cutest, softest bf 🙏🏻

yo this idea has me weak 🥲 i hope you like this!

Judging by the clattering in your kitchen, your jet-lagged boyfriend had finally emerged from his seemingly endless slumber.

You’d been awake for four hours, and out of bed for three. It took longer than expected to carefully untangle yourself from the knot of his limbs, but he slept through your escape. And Bam’s excitement at having an awake parent to play with. And the unavoidable clang of pots and pans as you cooked a breakfast now finally in the hands of its intended recipient - at 2:00 in the afternoon.

You heard the floorboards creak as he shuffled out of the kitchen. His movements were incredibly slow as he padded up the hall to join you in the living room, like all the sleep he’d gotten hadn’t recharged his battery. Also audible was the faint crunch of newly toasted bread, which tugged the corner of your mouth into an involuntary smile.

Jungkook always needed a snack to hold him over until he brought his actual meal to a table. After all, he might waste away in the few moments it would take to make himself a place. You always joked that his stomach was a bottomless pit, but he maintained that he only ate this much when you were the one cooking. And when you scrunched your nose at his flattery, he’d kiss it until your cheeks turned into roses. Then he’d kiss those, too.

Laying on the couch with your legs stretched out across the cushions, your head rested on a plush, velveteen pillow. The heels of your hands were anchored against your chest as you propped up this week’s novel. You had to peek over the top of it to see Jungkook appear in the doorway.

Bleary eyes squinted against sunlight as he looked for you. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up over his hair, but you knew without looking that it was sticking up in every possible direction - which always confounded you due to how deeply he slept. Immovable, powered off completely. His shoulders still carried the weight of his exhaustion; and his cheeks puffed out as he attempted to chew what you assumed was - at minimum - half his slice of toast.

Of all the versions of him, this one was a hard-fought favorite of yours: the silly, sleepy, soft Jungkook. The one that stirred the butterflies in your stomach just by existing, too out-of-it to notice the effect he had on you.

He groaned as he bent over to put his plate on the coffee table. You expected him to take his usual spot at the end of the couch and pull your legs over his lap like he always did. This time, he deviated from the pattern. Not waiting long enough for you to set your book down, he wiggled his head between its bottom and your chest, and then let the weight of his body slump down on top of yours.

You giggled as he slid his hands underneath you and wrapped you up in his arms. With his chest pressed against yours, you could feel his deep, contented sigh as it left him. No longer accessible, you closed your book with an unseen smile and tossed it gently to the rug below. You couldn’t see how it landed, but you hoped it was graceful.

“You left,” He mumbled sadly with his face tucked under your chin. He breathed slowly through his nose; every warm exhale tickled the bare skin of your neck.

Your now-free hands settled into a familiar routine. One rested on his back; the muscles of which, you noted, had become much more defined since he left for tour ten weeks earlier. The other hand pulled back his hood in order to thread fingers through his soft - albeit messy - tresses. Fingernails scratching gently over his scalp, you chuckled, “You had your leg draped over me, pressing into my bladder. When I came back from the bathroom, you were spread out over the mattress like a sleep-deprived starfish.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” He cooed, squeezing you tighter. “The second-worst part about leaving is having to sleep alone. I forget how to share, and then you have to deal with the consequences.”

“Second worst?”

“The only thing worse than going to sleep without you is being awake without you,” he explained it casually, as if it wouldn’t make your heart do somersaults.

But it did, because this soft, sleepy man was yours - he was home - and he said things like that just as easily as breathing.

2K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Bad Guy 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can’t seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: we can't be ready for this man.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Chris sits at the table, his phone in one hand, his other resting latently on the denim stretched around his thigh. You approach and resist the vision that flashes through your mind. If you were braver, you might just dump the mac and cheese all over him. The scalding sting in your ass keeps you compliant.

You put the plate in front of him with a fork. You say nothing and back up. He huffs and drops his phone heavily.

“Not gonna offer me something to drink?” He snarls. “Know your ma, it isn’t any surprise you don’t got any manners.”

You flinch and stop. You just want to go to your room and for him to leave you alone. Why is he even here?

“Do you want a drink?”

He sighs and clucks. “Yea, I want a drink.” He says each word with emphasis. “You think you can handle it?”

“Yes... sir,” you utter.

“Beer. I know your ma got at least a can left.” He demands.

You nod and go to the fridge. Your mom won’t be happy. She counts her alcohol, not her money. Still, you don’t care. You just need him to leave you alone.

You take out a beer and return to him. You put it down as he scoops up a forkful. He leans forward and shovels it into his mouth. He sits back and chews, swallowing tightly. “Open it.”

You grab the can and crack the tab. You put it back down. He reaches for it and guzzles half of it in a gulp. You go to retreat and he snaps his fingers at you. You stop. Again.

“Whatcha tryna run away for?” He growls.

“I’m not. I’m going to clean the pot.” It’s a lie but a convenient one that sounds true.

“Mm, fine,” he shoos you with his finger. “Ya think you’re gonna keep a husband making boxed noodles? Gonna have to at least learn to make a meatloaf or something.”

“Yes, sir,” you go to the sink and turn on the water. You scrub at the scratched pot as you try to tune out his chewing.

You finish and dry it off. You put it back in the cupboard and cross your arms. You turn slowly and reach for the wooden spoon. You try not to react as your flesh speckles with the shadow of his assault. You wash that too and put it in the dishrack.

You turn and he clears his throat.

“I didn’t dismiss you,” he sneers as his fork clanks onto the plate.

You face him, “I was just going to grab my phone--”

“Why?” He asks.

You flinch, “I don’t... know?”

“You ask me first.”

“But...” you squint at him.

“Don’t you put that face on or I’ll wipe it off,” he warns with a jab of his thick finger.

You frown and chew on your agitation. You don’t know why you’re putting up with this. He’s an intruder.

You shake your head and spin. You don’t have to do this. Your mom brought him home, she can deal with him. You storm off and hear him grunt. You speed up as the chair scrapes on the floor.

You run to your room and slam the door behind you. You flip the lock behind the handle as he hits the outside. You scour the room in search of your cell. It’s on your pillow. You swipe it up and dial your mom’s number.

You put the phone to your ear and cover your other as Chris pounds on the door. “What’re ya doing? Don’t you be a little bitch now! Let me in.” He thumps on the wood. “Listen here, girl. I’m giving you one chance to open up or you’re in for it.”

Your mom doesn’t pick up. Of course, she doesn’t. You know she’s probably too drunk to care. You huff and hang up. You face the door.

“I’m calling the cops,” you holler at the door. “So you better go.”

“Go ahead,” he hits the door again, “I dare ya.”

Your lashes flutter and your hand quakes. You get a grip on the phone and tap 9. The whole door jars in the frame as he throws his weight against it. You whimper as the wood cracks and he does it again. The clasp snaps loudly and the door flies open.

You cry out and hit one. He storms towards you and knocks the cell from your hand before you can tap again. You swing your arms out to ward him off but he catches you around your waist. He hauls you off your feet. You claw at him as he grunts and growls.

“Every mark you leave on me, I’ll give ya double,” he barks and as you try to scratch him again, he bites down on the vee of your thumb and index. You shriek and he pinches until you can’t bear it. He finally releases and you shake your hand out with a whimper. “Try me, girl.”

He drags you out of the room, your feet barely scuffing the floor, as he keeps you locked in his arms. You wriggle as you try to get free. He gets you to the kitchen and hurls you away from him. You hit the counter and bounce off.

You land on the floor and roll onto your stomach. You wheeze from the impact. You plant your elbows and knees and try to lift yourself. He stomps over as you hear a clatter on the counter and he steps over your body. He drops down to straddle you.

He grabs your neck and pushes your flat. He pins you, your cheek to the tile, and he moves off of you, kneeling at your side. You get a glimpse of the same wooden spoon as it descends and he batters your ass again.

“Ow! Please!”

“Too late, girl,” he grits. “I warned ya but you just can’t behave.”

“No, no, please. I’m just... why are you doing this?” You whine.

“’Cause you just can’t help yourself,” he stills the spoon and tugs up your shorts, exposing you. “I’m gonna teach you what happens to bad girls.”

He hooks his leg over yours and forces your thighs apart. He prods around with the handle of the wooden spoon. You twitch and tense as he pokes down your ass and between your legs. He presses the end against your cunt and you spasm.

“No--”

He wiggles the spoon, pushing it against your clenched lips, until he breaks past your resistance. You shriek and slap the floor at the dry intrusion of the spoon. Your disbelief is underlined with horror. This can’t be happening but the arid pain assures you it’s all too real.

He jerks his wrist and pushes it deeper. You holler and scratch at the tile helpless. His grip tightens on your neck and he thrusts the spoon in and out, deeper and deeper, as your eyes spill over with tears.

As agonizing as it is, it’s degrading. You are nothing. He’s defiling you as if you deserve it. As if you are his very own plaything.

“Please-- stop,” you gurgle, “ow, ow, ow,” you heave between your whimper, “ow, it hurts.”

“Damn right, it hurts.” He rams the spoon into you again and you wail. “Remember this the next time you wanna fuck around, huh?”

“I wasn’t--” you wheeze and grab onto his arm, trying to shove him off. “Please, please,” you beg. “Owwww, I’ll be good--”

He rips the spoon out and you cry out again. But there isn’t a moment of relief. He shoves two fingers into you, rocking his hand as you wriggle and whine. He dips in, deeper, deeper, harder, harder, until you’re trembling and weak.

You pant and lay limply as he demeans your body. It’s only when you’re completely still, almost dissonant, that he relents. He drags his fingers out of you and wipes them on your shorts. He moves his leg off of yours and sits back on his heels.

“Now you know what the fuck happens to snitches,” he growls.

“Sorry, sorry,” you babble dumbly as you hide behind your eyelids. “Sorry, please, no more. No more.”

“Better be no more,” he swats the back of your head. “Got it.”

“Yes,” you sniffle, “yes... sir.”

“Mm,” his soles scuff as he gets his footing and stands. He grabs the back of your shirt and wrenches you up, strangling you as you struggle to find an ounce of strength. “You wanna be good? You gonna dress like a good girl.”

He twists your shirt around his fist and forces you across the kitchen. Your legs are wobbly as you nearly fall against him. You get your balance, barely, and he marches you onward. He shoves you into your room and you hit the floor again.

He goes to your dresser as you lay on the floor. You cup between your legs as your insides throb hotly. You watch him as your tears dry up. He digs through your drawer and pulls out a pair of your panties.

“What’s this?” He stretches the boy shorts. “Ain’t no ladies’ clothes.”

He tosses them to the floor and continues to search. In the next drawer, he takes out a flowered dress with cap sleeves. You don’t wear it very often. You have no reason too.

“Here,” he throws it at you and it shrouds your face. You pull if off your head and sit up. “Get fucking dressed.”

You look down at the dress then back at him. He stomps around and bends to pick up your phone. He turns back to you.

“Do I gotta repeat myself?”

“N-no,” you murmur and climb to your feet.

“Damn right,” he goes to your bed and flops down, adjusting himself to recline against your pillows.

You look down and gingerly move around to put the dress on the foot of the bed. You undress, skin on fire as you strip down in front of him. You feel him watching your every move. You pull the dress on before you shimmy out of your shorts, hoping not to expose yourself entirely.

You hiccup and sway back and forth. He rumbles, “what d’ya think? Get over here.”

You waver and clutch the sides of the short skirt. You don’t know how much worse he can do but you don’t want to find out. You obey in hopes that he won’t hurt you again but you don’t think there’s anything you can do to avoid that.

You go up the side of the bed and stop close to him. He reaches to toy with the short hem of your dress. He clucks as he pokes his finger against the fabric.

“You fucked anything but that spoon before?” He taunts.

You flinch and stare at the floor. You shake your head. He chuckle.

“Course you ain’t. You don’t know what to do with a man. Well, I’m about to teach you, girl,” he yanks on your skirt and you stumble against the bed. “You wanna get mouthy with me, well, then we’ll put your mouth to use.”

He spreads his legs and snaps his fingers. He points between his knees and you follow the gesture with your eyes. A new well of tears springs forth. He laughs again.

As you crawl onto the bed and over his leg, he opens the button of his fly. Your lip trembles and you dare to look him in the face. His zipper splits the thick air and he reaches into his jeans with a smirk.

“Open up, girl. I’m about to show you what a woman’s for,” he pulls himself through his fly and strokes himself. You bow your head and close your eyes, mortified.

You want to scream and run but you know better. It’s already, you can’t make it any worse. You open your eyes and look up at him, mopping your cheeks as he plays with himself.

“You’re kinda cute when you cry,” he snickers.

#destroyer!chris #chris x reader #dark chris #dark!chris #destroyer #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #bad guy

89 notes · View notes

littlemissomega · 1 year ago

Text

Hungry

alpha!Rhyand x omega!reader

Summary: Rhysand finds a way to make his mate eat during her heat

Warnings: smut, cockwarming, teasing, reader not wanting to eat but Rhys convincing her too, bargaining, heat and rut, overstimulation, mention of biting/marking, breeding kink, pet names (Alpha, Omega, little dove, baby), wing play/stimulation, food play if you squint, bad writing, not proof read

Note: Both characters have sensitive wings. Sarah J. Mass created the character “Rhysand” in the book series “A Court Of Thorns and Roses”

Masterlist

“Alpha nooo! I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Shh little dove,” Rhysand coos, “It’s for your own good!”

“I don’t wanna, I just want you!” Y/ whines.

“You have to eat, baby. What kind of mate would I be if I didn’t feed my omega?”

“I don’t need food, I need you!” Y/N wiggles her hips up as if to prove it. Rhysand groans.

Since the mating bond snapped into place almost 2 days ago, Rhysand and Y/N have been caught in a frenzy of searching hands and unquenchable need. Naturally, it triggered YN’s heat and Rhysand’s runt. But while Rhysand had suffered the sweat drenched, desperate and foggy musk of his runt before, this is Y/N’s first heat. Rhysand nearly chokes on her needy scent, struggling to control himself. Everything from her dripping pussy, peaked nipples, ruffled hair, and glazed over eyes makes him want to fuck her silly. Well, more silly. She squirms under his graze.

“Omega, you have to eat,” Rhysand orders, voice shifting into that dominant husk that makes Y/N’s bones turn to jello and every fiber of her being needs to obey him.

The burning pit in her core that had been temporarily appeased threatens to swallow Y/N whole. She writhes, gripping the sheets and moaning.

“Pleaseee! I need you in me now! Feel so empty, Alpha, it hurts so bad so achy! Need you so bad!” she babbles. Rhysand moans at the sight.

“You really will be the death of me, little dove,”

Rhysand pulls her into a sitting position- having to support her weak body- into his lap. His fingers graze the tips of her wings, and Y/N almost cums on the spot. She instinctively grinds against his hard cock. A growl rips from his lips and he grabs her hips, stilling her.

“I’m feeling partially gracious, so I’ll make you a deal, mate,” he groans into her ear, pushing her sweat stick hair back.

She whimpers in response, breathing in his scent deeply. He smells of Ilirian leathers, fresh parchment, night drenched breezes, and cracking fire. The fire goes straight to her core.

“You eat what I feed you, and I’ll let you warm my cock while you do it,” Rhysand proposses, picking up the bowl of praise and little pieces of bread he summoned earlier.

“Okay, please, Alpha, just need you in me so bad!” Y/N practically cries. His cock twitches under her before he slides in in one fluid movement

Y/N clutches Rhysand’s shoulders as she struggles to adjust to his size. She’d lost count of how many times he’s made her cum, but it never seems to be enough. Her body craves more, more, more. Needs it. He becomes the very air she breathes in the frenzy of her first heat.

She tries moving on him, but he grabs her nips, anchoring her against him. Y/N lets out a moan and he takes the opportunity to pop a grape in her mouth.

“Chew,” he orders.

Her jaw obeys on its own accord.

She swallows to say, “Alpha, please, I need more!”

“Yes you do need more grapes, little dove!” Rhysand coos, slipping two more in her mouth.

Y/N pouts, but chews and swallows all the same. She wiggles her nips, searching for some kind of friction; causing Rhys to pinch her thigh.

“Hey!” she exclaims. Rhysand stuff a small pice of bread in her open mouth.

“Be good,l little dove,”

Y/N swallows and licks the crumbs off her ips. Rhysand’s cock twiches in her. An idea pops in her head.

“Alpha, can I have some more grapes?” she asks innocently.

His brows shoot up.

“Of course, omega,”

Rhysand slips a grape through her lips, but she closes them before he withdowls his fingers. Rhys looks at Y/N curiously until starts gently sucking on his fingers. His eyes fill with lust and a growl bubbles up in his throat.

“Careful,” he advises, every syllable dripping with dominance.

Y/N releases his fingers with a ‘pop’, and bites down on the frappe. The sweet juices fill her mouth and she swallows.

“What do you mean?” she asks, again acting innocent.

Y/N leans forward so her nipples graze Rhs’s toned chest. She wraps her arms around his neck, allowing her fingers to graze his wings. He moans and jerks his hips up into her. Y/N’s head drops against his chest as hot sparks radiate through her.

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you little dove?” he groans between his teeth as his cock shifts in her tight walls.

“Eating grapes?” she responds breathily, reaching for a grape and popping it in her mouth. The movement causes her to shift an inch off and back against his cock.

Rhysand’s hand grapes her hips with a near bruising grip.

“You’re making it really fucking hard to be a good mate right now,” Rhys groans against her neck. The area prickles, “Cause all I can think about now is all the very very bad, inappropriate things I want to do to you. And I can’t do all those things if you’re running on an empty stomach,”

“Your cock’s got me feeling pretty full though,” she whimpers, squeezing her tight walls around him.

“Caldron fucking boil me,” Rhys growls before snapping into action.

IN a flash, Y/N is flipped on her back with her knees flush against the sides of her chest. Rhys pulls out almost all the way before thrusting back in, causing a moan to slip from her lips.

“There you go, little dove, is this what you wanted?” Rhysands pants, thrusting into her at a relentless speed.

Every drag of his cock inside her is like fire and light and night exploding, and all Y/N can do is nod, throwing her head back. Every drop of coyness drains from her body.

Rhysand takes the opportunity to connect his lips with her new mating bond. The mark of his fangs is a stark contrast against her flushed skin. Y/N writhes under him as he sucks the freshly injured skin between his lips.

“Oh, is that sensitive?” he rumbles against her skin. Y/N nods again, lacing her fingers through his hair.

Y/N’s chest rises off the bed as Rhys’ thumb makes contact with her throbbing clit.

“And that?”

“Fuckkk, gonna cum, Alpha,” Y/N mewls, her toes curling.

A hand glides across Y/N’s wing, and her world shatters. Stars explose in her vision and every cell and nerve in her body pulse and pound and light on fire.

Y/N can barely control her body and doesn’t know what to do with it at once in the intense pleasure. Her hand slides down and grasps onto Rhysand’s wings, tugging the feathers gently.

Rhysand’s shouts and moans of pleasure join hers as his hot cum fills Y/N. The overwhelmingly full, warm sensation shocks her as Rhysand’s knot swells into place. Her head falls to the side and her back arches off the mattress. Y/N is subconsciously aware of saying something, but has no control of her words as tears of pleasure glide down her cheeks.

“Holy fucking Mother, ‘s so good, so good oh my god, don’t stop, too much, so full! Fuck feels so good, caldron boil me, fuck you fill me so well, holy fuck feels so full!” Y/N writhes, tugging and twisting on the feathers of Rhysand’s wings.

Rhysand can feel another climax boiling even though his hips had stilled; his knot practically gluing him in place as his mate pulse and squeezes around him. Just the wing stimulation has him right on the edge.

He grazes his fingers back and forth across his mate’s wings, stimulating her in such a gentle yet instantly pleasurable way. Y/N squirms enough to rock the bed.

“So good, so good, can’t! Oh my Mother, too much!” Y/N babbles, pressing herself further into the mattress.

“I know, little dove, just one more time. Cum one more time for your mate. I’m gonna cum too, pump you so full of my pups you’ll hardly be able to walk,” Rys groans.

They had never talked about having children before, but in that moment, Rhysand has an uncontrollable need to keep his pretty mate knocked up, glowing, and dripping his cum for the rest of her life.

“One more time,” he repeats as he presses his thumb against the hypersensitive spot on her wing, simultaneously grinding into her as much as his swollen knot will allow.

“Rhysand!” Y/N screams as he fills her again. Night explodes through the room.

His load of cum fills her to the brim. It feels she’s about to burst as her climax hits her. Y/N’s vision blacks out and all she can feel is Rhysand’s hot cum.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, little dove,” Rhysand moans.

A night drenched breeze cools her sticky skin as the world comes back into reach. Her eyes flutter open to see Rhys panting above her.

“Wow,” she moans breathilly.

“Wow,” he repeats, smirking at her.

Y/N lets go of Rhysand’s wings as she realizes how tight she was gripping them.

“Fuck, are your wings okay? I didn’t know I was being so…”

“Rough? Don’t worry, I liked it, little dove,” Rhys chuckles, flipping them over so Y/N is resting on top of him. She collapses against him.

A whimper slips from her lips and Rhyand’s knot slips deepers inside of her.

“I know, baby,” Rhysand coos, “It’ll go down soon. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Y/N whispers.

“Good,” he repeats, gently rubbing her back.

Y/N’s eyes droop shut and she feels sleep calling as Rhys taps her gently. She hums in response.

“I think I found my new favorite snack,”

Masterlist

Don't forget to like, reblog, and follow<3!

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

431 notes · View notes

hatsukeii · 3 months ago

Note

i think i’m gonna pick up a 🎸 with a few 🎵 decorations including a ‘rivals to lovers’ guitar pick and a ‘cooking class au’ strap. and lately i’ve heard that osamu is my biggest fan ;)

got it! the band you’ve joined is…

hell’s kitchen / timeskip!osamu miya x reader

genre(s): fluff, slight crack, rivals to possible? lovers, culinary class au! food!

warning(s): nothing!! im worried that osamu might be ooc here or it's not rivalry enough but i hope it works out!>!!>!

wc: ~1.7k

your first gig is at…a culinary class?!

setlist:

🎵girlfriend, hemlocke springs

🎵comedy, gen hoshino

🎵get him back!,olivia rodrigo

How many things can someone possibly put in a rice ball? To slurp, or not to slurp? Better yet, is slapping somebody with a whole head of pickled cabbage a viable course of action?

It's humiliating, almost, paired with Osamu Miya in every culinary class. Not because of his lack of skill- he's good, too good even. But he smacks his tongue audibly against the roof of his mouth every time he digs into your cooking, slurps until showers of broth come spitting from the bowl, wipes his hands on his apron, slathering emulsifications of aioli and hollandaise onto rough canvas fabric, then grabs your waist to walk behind you. Every quirk of his is incomplete without his signature, shit-eating smirk. Every class has you considering swinging whatever tool you have in hand into his face.

Unfortunately, that day is not today. Onigiri only requires hands, and seeing that Osamu has formed six seemingly perfect balls of seaweed wrapped rice, he is clearly much better at using them than you are. Handiwork training is what today's chef called this atrocity. To move beyond being a cook to a chef, you must learn the first tool of cooking- your hands, he said. From the corner of your eye, you catch Osamu's amused glances towards the two funky looking shapes on your plate, and the panicked pulses of your palms against a handful of slippery, seasoned rice. He picks up one of the six onigiri of his own, the rounded tip of the triangle disappearing into his mouth as he chews, agonisingly slowly, smacking his tongue the way he knows you hate. A grumble elicits from your throat, your hands squeezing tighter against the sticky grains in your grasp, only for more chunks to fall apart.

"Let me help."

"No."

"Whatever you say."

He walks over now, biting a second corner off his onigiri as his hips lean against your side of the counter. His lips smack together obnoxiously, teeth squelching and grinding at rice and salmon. You irk your brows when the rice in your grasp seems to stop sticking to each other. It takes one look at your now opaque bowl of water for you to realise that you've washed all the starch off in your attempts to release the grains from your palms. Osamu figured it out when you dipped your hand into the bowl for the seventh time.

"Mix it into the rest of the rice that you have. That helps."

You hate that he's right, because when you do what he's told you to, the rest of the rice comes around the wet grains and sticks to them like they're supposed to. He pops the rest of his onigiri into his mouth, swiping his hands together before rubbing them over the sides of his rice-decorated apron. You try again, scooping up a lukewarm ball of rice. Flattening it against your palm, you search for the bowl of salmon, eyes landing on an empty bowl adorned with sad, pink flakes of salt-grilled fish. Osamu's already sliding the rest of his salmon over the counter.

"Need extra?" His mouth is still stuffed, a single piece of rice sticks to the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks."

You dump a spoonful of salmon into the centre of your rice pattie, before sticking your free hand into the water and folding your palms into each other. The rice sticks to your fingers when you pull away, and you groan, pushing harder. At that, grains begin to crack away from the ball, bits of salmon beginning to stick out from the bottom. Osamu swallows half of the contents in his mouth, his cheek jutting out like a hamster hoarding sunflower seeds. He watches your inexperienced hands, clawing at and tossing the rice to shape it, and he reaches over to rinse his hands over the sink.

"Just let me help you out."

Grains of jasmine rice stick to his wet palms that come around your hands, squeezing and pushing at a ball of rice that falls apart at each movement. The fuzz of his rolled up sweater sleeves rubs against your forearms as his fingers work their way onto yours. Starchy water trickles down the back of your hand when he forces them to loosen around the mess of grilled salmon and rice, and you sigh in defeat, letting him move you as he pleases.

"Look, I'm not sure why you dislike me so much."

"I don't."

He chuckles, pushing your hands into the rice now. You study the pressure he applies to the ball of rice, learn the shape of his fingers around yours, memorise the cup of his palms around the back of your own.

"Yes, you do. You always look at me like-"

You snap your head around to meet his eyes, and he's so close that for the first time, you have to angle your head to look up at him. He's not smirking anymore, moreso observing. You aren't sure what there is to observe on your face, but it's welcome nevertheless.

"Like what?"

He purses his lips, huffing out a dejected sigh.

"Like that."

He lets go of your hands, stepping backwards, and you hold the perfectly moulded onigiri up to eye level. The rice is glossy in a sheen of vinegar and water, yet pertains its fluffiness in the tack of starch against your fingers. The handiwork of a true chef.

"You're so good at this class that I can't even get annoyed at you openly. It's infuriating."

"What did I ever do to you?"

You laugh sarcastically, waving the newly formed onigiri in Osamu’s face, before taking a bite. He laughs, mouth forming a taunting oh when you smack your lips against each other the way that he does, the flakiness of salmon spreading char and salt across your tastebuds. Then, you place the onigiri aside, rubbing your hands up and down your pristine apron, before grabbing his waist to move him to the side so you can walk past, making sure bits of rice and fish stick to his apron. He chuckles, clapping tantalisingly slowly at your imitation of his habits. You give him a fake bow, and he drops his hands to his hips, shrugging.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Petty rivalry and kitchen hygiene."

"Mind you, I am very hygienic. My shop hasn't been shut down for a reason."

You watch Osamu's hands dig into the remaining portion of your rice, his tongue sticking out as he moulds and shapes it into another perfectly rounded triangle. You scoff at his defensiveness, arms crossed in front of you. He wraps a rectangle of seaweed across the centre of the rice ball, and holds it up to your face. It is swiped from his fingers by your own, and you stuff half of it into your mouth, chewing without a sound and swallowing the mouthful.

"You do not have a shop."

"Where'd you think I learned how to do all this?" His hands shoot out to wave at his perfect collection of hand-made onigiri, and you sigh, rolling your head to the side.

"Okay, sure. You have a shop. It's a surprise you can be this annoying and keep it running."

"Loosen up, I just wipe my hands on my apron and eat loud. It's not like I'm spitting in my food. Besides, being that uptight ends up with your onigiri coming out more like...that." His head nods towards the funky ones on your plate, bits of fish sticking from the crevices between individual grains of rice. You shrug in acceptance, taking another bite from his onigiri. Osamu clicks his tongue, grabbing your wrist to bring the rice ball to his mouth instead, consuming the final corner of the triangle in its entirety. He swallows it with a hum, his fingers still around your wrist. He's not letting go. Now, you're interested.

"Should I pay you a visit? Need to see for myself that you're running it to safety standards."

"Are you flirting with me? Because you should keep going."

You roll your eyes when you see him wink at you from above your hand, but an toothy grin creeps its way onto your face, and Osamu smiles at his tactics.

"Whatever you say, Miya." His last name finally makes it out of your mouth for the first time since the two of you have been put together for this course, and he drops your wrist.

"You know, I could teach you how to make those onigiris properly if you show up to Onigiri Miya. You'd be almost as good as me by the end of it."

You flick a grain of rice at him, and it sticks to his apron unceremoniously. He's even named the shop after his family name. How cute. Despicable.

"Don't try your luck, chef."

"Chef? High praise."

The supervising chef sounds a bell, harsh waves of high pitched ringing echoing throughout the room. And as Osamu scrubs at bowls and lathers soapy water onto plates, he watches you tap at your phone with clean hands. Your sink is already empty, the two bowls and one plate that you used in total sitting on the drying rack already. Your onigiris sit in a takeout container, lined up neatly in two rows. His own are still on their plate, and he reminds himself to grab a takeout box for himself. You look up to Osamu, and he looks back at his wet hands and soapy dishes.

"Found you online. I'll be checking your place out soon." You remark at him, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a grin.

"You sure you're not there to check me out instead?" You snicker at his blatant flirtations, and pretend that he's completely incorrect.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves now, Miya."

You shove your phone back into your pocket, swipe an onigiri off his plate, and wave at him as you turn your back to leave.

Osamu watches your silhouette push open the door as he slots his dishes into the drying rack. He hopes that you'll become his favourite regular at Onigiri Miya.

author's note:

i just KNOW im gonna have so much fun writing for this event ngl i hope i get more so i can see what people come up with but I HOPE U LIKE THIS!!! rivalry is more like friendly banter here and lovers is more like he's into you and you're slowly getting into the grroove of it but hopefully you enjoyed it regardless my bbs<333 i'd frequent onigiri miya ngl i love onigiri sm also hell's kitchen needs to be the name of a band icl

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @staraxiaa @wyrcan @4ngelfries @catsoupki @bailey-reeds @fiannee @kuroppiii @akaakeis @hiraethwa @zzwon

interested in joining a band? come on over to the build-a-band 900 !!

#haikyuu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #osamu x reader #haikyuu miya osamu #haikyuu osamu #osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu time skip #hq x reader #hq timeskip #hq crack #hq imagines #hq osamu #hq fluff

127 notes · View notes

partycatty · 8 months ago

Text

kenshi > read my mind

sitting across the table from your boyfriend at sun do's royal dinner, filling his mind with terrible images...

warnings: ur a horndog, exhibitionism ig, SWITCH KENSHI NATION RISE UP!

notes: this was inspired by @crimsonbubble 's post about kenshi's telepathy... absolute genius... also please pretend he's got sento here or something idfk just bear with me please i'm in heat LMAO. funny side note i had to rewrite this after finishing it to tweak some details, namely that i forgot kenshi CANNOT FUCKING SEE.

[ masterlist ]

• there was a mutual agreement between you and kenshi, no funny business in outworld lest the entirety of earthrealm be damned to your reputation. this was a doable task, you and kenshi were disciplined and well-mannered, like two cute little peas in a very stoic pod.

• however, when you're sat at the long table, syzoth on your left and johnny on your right as you tear apart a roasted bird, you find yourself salivating at the sight of kenshi swirl a glass of red wine with interest. how is it that everything he does is so effortlessly sexy? your chewing slows and you swallow thickly.

• kenshi must have felt your burning gaze, considering his familiarity with it, and his head flicks up to meet yours.

• you look really hot tonight, you try to think as coherently as you can but your mind wanders faster than you can control, and you're envisioning kenshi throwing that roasted bird and glassware to the floor as he fucks you stupid there and then, using your hole as his personal stress relief as he pins you hard to the table. kenshi chokes on his wine, fists clenching as his head tilts downward to avoid staring at you and spiraling his own mind any further.

• the illuminated figures of his friends surrounding kenshi don't seem to pick up on his flushed state, too entranced in their meals to properly notice anything off.

• what's the matter? you toy with him innocently, leaning over the table to tear the leg from the bird and let your breasts spill out and settle atop the table. how he wishes he could see the flush of your skin, the way your outfit compliments your figure so well. don't get too heated, someone will notice.

• you stick your finger in your mouth, sucking away the flavor of the food as you look directly at him with low lids. you had to commit to this, whatever your goal was it surely couldn't have ended well for you.

• there was so much room under the table, a dark part of you snickers as you envision crawling under the table and freeing his surely solid cock, swirling your tongue around his tip and digging your nails into his thigh, reminding him to keep quiet.

• "stop," kenshi mouths at you, shoulders tense as the spirits probe your mind and fill him with evil thoughts. you reach your foot underneath the tablecloth and confirm what you suspected when your sole pressed into his bulge, making him gasp before covering his mouth.

• seems like you don't want me to, you coo into his mind, applying just enough pressure to make him jump. you're all hard and needy for me, aren't you? wish you could just fuck my pretty pussy until i'm nothing more than a drooling mess?

• syzoth is startled by kenshi's thighs bumping the table, brows knitting as he eyes down kenshi's shivery state. "are you alright?" he inquires, tilting his head.

• "no need to worry, syzoth," you insist, while simultaneously conjuring up images of kenshi stuffing his inked fingers so deep in your cunt you cream over them. "kenshi is just a little under the weather as of late."

• your strained grin seems to convince him well enough to drop the subject, turning back to his plate of bugs. your head turns, now grinning at your extremely flustered boyfriend.

• "stop it," he mouths again, squeezing your foot between his thighs. that does nothing, of course, as he immediately is flooded once again with your thoughts of settling between his thighs, squishing your cheek on one while pumping his length with a hand. his throat clears, maybe a bit louder than intended.

• i want you so bad, your lashes flutter, your food a forgotten part of the process. you make me so wet, kenshi, it's so hard to focus when i just want you to use me.

• you giggle to yourself. kenshi's cock is so strained against his dress pants he wondered if he might just pass out or break his zipper. the thoughts of him splitting you open make your own thighs clench, rubbing together to release any tension you'd built. your panties undoubtedly damp, clit throbbing and needy, all of which you project into his head with a sly grin.

• fuck me open on this table, you halfheartedly propose. split me and make everyone know what a whore i am for that dick, pretty boy. i'll ride you so fucking good you won't even remember your own name, is that what you want? you want my thighs around your head when you eat me out? you make me cum so hard, kenshi, you and only you gets me so horny like this, i can barely contain it.

• simultaneously dirty talking through your minds and creating images and scenes that no doubt will send you to hell was far too much for kenshi, especially in public. he stands harshly, his chair screeching against the floor which thankfully draws enough attention away from him to allow him to adjust himself quickly in his pants, tugging his top down further in hopes that somehow, someway his massive cock could be hidden enough.

• "please excuse me," kenshi mutters, bowing deeply. "i believe i am unwell."

• "could we offer you anything?" kitana stands with him, eyes wide with concern. "tea, perhaps—?"

• kenshi bows his head, shaking it slightly. "that won't be necessary princess, though i appreciate it."

• after everyone finishes exchanging funny looks, nobody seems to really notice the sly glint in your eye as your head follows his movements. he walks around the table, having to pass you in the process. his hands sweep behind your hair and cup the back of your neck gently as he leans down to mumble something in your ear. nobody thinks to question the gesture, as it is common knowledge you two were together. what he says though, is so heinous you hope outworld abilities don't include superhearing.

• "you're fucking done for," he mutters, nails digging into the sides of your neck ever so slightly. "you're paying for making me this hard later."

• he pulls away before you could even consider replying, walking off as the click of his dress shoes lessen in volume. the dinner resumes, though johnny leans into your other ear.

• "what's his problem?" johnny asks obliviously, watching kenshi exit. "he's always got a stick up his ass... no offense."

• "none taken," you reply sweetly, turning to face him. "i believe he's just feeling a little sickly."

• "outworld germs?" johnny chuckles, leaning back in his chair. you shrug, looking at the bird again.

• "maybe it was the food."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #mortal kombat smut #kenshi takahashi x reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi takahashi smut #marley writes ☆

318 notes · View notes

hrryshoney · 9 months ago

Note

I dunno if it’s horny thoughts you want but I’m ovulating rn so its all I have

like actually I want Matty to uh. fuck my face like it’s my cunt like. filthy nasty. like my head hanging off the side of the bed and he can see his cock going down my throat. and also record it so I can watch it every day.

babes it’s me, ofc i want horny thoughts! (also twins we are synced lol)

warnings below: mouth fucking, so oral (m receiving), recording during sex, maybe mean dom matty a lil, degradation, praise, dirty talk, spit in mouth, rough, again short and not proofread :( my legacy

“Want me to what, baby? Think you’ll have to speak up for me.” He leaned in, turning his head as if telling you to speak in his ear. The smirk on Matty’s face was enough to tell you that he did hear you. He just wanted to hear you say it again. You were still in your bra and panties, and Matty was shirtless with his pants around his ankles. You felt too covered but bare at the same time with the way his eyes were piercing you.

You felt bashful now, having to repeat the filthy thought that’s been in your head since he’d started pumping his cock in front of you. Exaggerating his moans and throwing his head back, your punishment of sorts. No touching, just watching. You squeaked out something, and now regret was filling you. Because Matty heard it, and he surely wouldn’t let it go. “S’nothing.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. “Now’s not the time to go shy on me, sweetheart. You can act modest later.” He grinned, taking another step forward. His cock was still in his hand. You looked down to see him, somehow, even harder in his palm. You thought you could feel yourself soaking your panties. “Say it.”

Matty’s fingers were tracing some pattern on your bicep repeatedly. His smile was too wide for it to be nothing, and you tried to focus to feel what it was. As you were about to formulate your response for him, you figured it out. The distinct curve of an ‘S’, then an ‘L’- and you knew. He was spelling SLUT, and it made you whimper out loud. You were caught. There was no use in running. And even so, you liked the chase. “Want you to fuck my face, please.” You gave him your best doe eyes, fluttering your lashes as you looked up at him.

Matty groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he squeezed his cock. He grabbed your arm, bringing you to the bed. As you landed, you squeezed your thighs together for friction. His fingers grasped at your thigh, pulling your legs apart forcefully. “No, open your fucking legs. You’re gonna suck me off and lay here aching, I’ll tie your legs apart if I need to.” You whined, his words only turning you on more. You obeyed him nonetheless, legs spread wide so the wet patch on your light grey panties was visible. You could even see your hard nipples through the padding of your bra.

“Yes, sir.” You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting for his next move. He walked to the other side of the bed, letting his knees hit the frame. Matty’s eyes darkened as he looked at you. Like he was trying to figure out what to do with you.

“Let your head hang off the side.” He said suddenly, and confusion filled your expression. He looked at you stoically, raising his eyebrows as you stayed still.

“I don’t..” You trailed off, but Matty’s hand wrapped around your ankle. He pulled you into place as you let out a squeak. Your neck was resting on the edge of the bed with the rest of your head dangling off. “Don’t know what you can’t understand, baby. Gonna fuck your throat like you wanted so bad.” Matty’s palm caressed the expanse of your throat, letting his cock rest on your lips. “Tap my thigh if you need me to stop, okay?” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You smiled and nodded, feeling your face get hot. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out for his cock. Matty was big, and you didn’t know how you were going to take him at this angle. As he prodded at your lips, you tasted the salty flavor of precum coat your tongue. He pushed it inside your mouth, starting slow.

You hollowed your cheeks around him, but allowed him to do the rest of the work. He was fucking your mouth after all, that was the whole point. You swirled your tongue around his tip as he pulled out, thrusting himself in your mouth again. Thank God you didn’t have a terrible gag reflex. Matty groaned out above you.

“I’ll use your fucking mouth like it’s a cunt. Nice and warm for me, all your holes are just so perfect.” Matty babbled in a drunken haze, pleasure filling his brain. He gripped your neck lightly, pushing himself in even more. He felt your throat open for him, and he thrusted his hips. You jerked slightly from the sudden movement, but regained your composure quickly. Everything you did had Matty moaning even more, the vibrations he felt on his cock were too good. “This is what you’re made for, take my cock down your little throat.”

You moaned around the base of him, and he pulled out an inch just to push all the way back in. You were breathing through your nose, letting him occupy your mouth fully. His hand came to the top of your head, and he gripped on the hair there. Drool was accumulating on his dick from the position he had you in, making the whole thing messy. As he went to thrust into you again, he saw something that had him clenching his teeth and throwing his head back.

He spoke through gritted teeth, “Dick too big for you, honey? Fucking- shit. See my imprint through your throat. Such a good girl.” And you wished you could see what Matty was seeing. What had him going so feral that he finally picked up his rhythm. Now, relentlessly using your throat. Thrusting into your mouth and pulling your hair. All that could be heard were his whimpers and the sound of your mouth getting fucked by him. Garbled moans that only egged him on. Sadist.

As if he could read your mind, Matty’s next words had you struggling to nod around his cock. A lame thumbs-up that you threw to let him know that, yes, you wanted that. “Can I take a video, baby? So I can show you how fucking good you take my cock?” And with your immediate agreement, he was reaching for his phone on your shared nightstand. He swiped to his camera app, and you heard the ping that indicated he started the recording.

You swirled your tongue again, swallowing around his cock. He whined lowly, knowing you must be showing off for the camera. He started to move his hips again, regaining his rhythm. And, presumably, the print of his cock down your throat. “Like a pornstar, baby. My little model.” He groaned out, focusing on your image through the video. You unhollowed your cheeks, letting your mouth hang open for spit to drip onto his cock. You inhaled deeply through your nose and let him take you again. “Good girl. Good fuckin’ slut. Natural at sucking dick.”

He slowed down, focusing on the bulge of your throat. He watched as you took him, using you as a toy for his own needs. Then, he threw his phone aside. Holding the either side of your head with his hands. He pulled the front of your bra down, exposing your tits. Hard nipples waiting for his touch. He grabbed a handful of your breast, pinching and tweaking at your nipple. You tried hard not to close your legs, the stimulation itself could make you cum.

Matty’s hips stuttered as you whimpered around him again, and you could feel his dick twitch in your mouth. “Gonna cum. Can I- down your throat?” His words came out in a mix, trying to restrain himself from letting go right there. He slowed down his rhythm, but picked up again as he felt pleasure overtake him. You let your hand go up to his hip, nodding the best you could and rubbing the skin there.

At your confirmation, Matty spilled down your throat with a cry. You couldn’t make out most of the words. Something that sounded like a mix of your name, good girl, and thank you. He tasted good, slightly salty but the warm liquid sliding down your throat tasted more sweet than anything. Quintessential Matty, you thought.

He was panting when you looked up, turning yourself to sit on your knees on the bed. He had collapsed into a sitting position next to you. A light sheen of sweat making his curls stick to his forehead. His cheeks and chest were flushed a light pink. When he opened his eyes to smile at you, he opened his mouth to say something, too. However, the words died in his throat as you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show you swallowed.

Matty’s big hands grabbed the sides of your face, pulling you in for a kiss. You knew he could taste himself on you, letting his tongue fight with yours. He kissed you passionately, pulling away and leaving your lips connected slightly. He let a string of spit fall in your mouth, which you immediately swallowed again. He grinned, “Good girl. Thank you, baby.”

He dragged you between his legs, and you could feel him getting half hard behind your back again. His hands flew to your clothed cunt, rubbing you over your panties. His other hand went to your exposed breasts, running his fingertips over the skin lightly. Pulling your nipple to hear you whimper. You were practically soaked, and he could easily tear the fabric if he so desired. “So wet just from sucking me off, huh? My own personal fucktoy. Think I should return the favor.” You only got slicker beneath his touch. “Can even watch our little video. See what gets you off faster.”

#tea’s writing✍🏻

179 notes · View notes

wh0re43van · 1 year ago

Text

Yes, sir (Professor!Evan Peters x Reader)

Summary: You’re three credits away from earning your bachelors degree. This is your second attempt at the same math course and you’re once again struggling. Thankfully, you have a very helpful professor.

Warnings: smut, teacher X adult student, not proofread

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: Another long one, but I prefer to develop a plot rather than just writing smut. I am working on some requests atm, this semester is almost over so I’ll soon have some free time to get caught up! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

I trudge my winter boots into class and take my regular seat next to the window. Snow is dusting the brown grass and white sidewalks of the courtyard. I shift my gaze to the board to see whatever stupid formulas we’ll be learning in this chapter. I groan to myself before taking a sip from my coffee, wishing I had spiked it before I left. This is the last chapter we’re learning before end of semester exams and I’m teetering right on the passing line with a 70%. I swear if I have to repeat this class again, I’m dropping out.

“Alright,” Mr. Peters stern but kind voice bounces off the concrete walls and into my ears as he enters the room. The dapper man takes off his scarf and sets his leather satchel onto his wooden desk. He sheds himself of his long coat and shakes the melting snowflakes out of his brown curls. He catches me admiring him. I look away quickly, but not before I see the wink he sends my way, making my heart skip a beat.

“You all should look more excited,” he grins, scanning the unenthused faces of his students. “You only have a few more classes with me,” Mr. Peters takes a seat in the worn leather chair. “At least most of you. Some of you may see me yet again next semester if you don’t buckle down these last few weeks,” he sends another look in my direction, this one more stern than flirty. Again, I look away from his gaze.

•

Class went by painstakingly slow as usual. I did my best to pay attention but ultimately resorted to making mental notes of what I need to pick up from the store and inevitably admiring how good my professor looks in his suit.

With Mr. Peters dismissal, I pack my belongings into my bag and make my way to the door.

“Miss y/l/n, would you come speak with me please,” Mr. Peters voice stops me in my tracks. I sigh and turn around, attempting to ignore the butterflies in my stomach that erupted when he spoke my name.

“Yes, sir?” I ask as I stop in front of his desk.

“I’m concerned with your grade in my course, y/n. You seem to be struggling this semester as well,” he expresses his concern folding his hands on top of the cool wood. “I notice that you seem to be a bit distracted in my class. May I ask why that may be,” he grins a bit with the statement. His voice low and serious, but laced with a playful knowing.

“I… well,” I blush at the eye contact that he refuses to break with me. I’m not ashamed to admit that I find my professor extremely attractive, and if I’m not mistaken, he hasn’t been too admit on hiding his amorous advances towards me. I often catch his eyes lingering on me and finding any excuse to come to my seat or speak with me privately. Of course, we’ve never discussed these events or feelings, but I do believe that there is a mutual understanding that makes me nervous, in turn amusing Mr. Peters.

“I think I need some help prepping for the exam. A private lesson would probably do me a lot of good. Do you think it’s too late to apply for a tutor?” I ask before bringing my finger up to my mouth to chew on my nails nervously.

“Oh y/n, I’d be more than happy to tutor you.” Mr. peters smiles, showing his darling dimples. “Could you stick around after our next class?” he asks, finally breaking eye contact with me to pack up his belongings. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Uhm yes, sir, but I don’t want to trouble you. I’m sure you’re a busy man,”

“Oh, I am,” he grins standing up and walking towards the door. I follow behind him. He places a now gloved hand on the handle then leans in closer to me, as if he’s telling a secret. “But I always have time for my favorite student,” he opens the door for me and I scurry out into the empty hall.

“Th-thank you professor.” is all I can stutter, staring at my boots in an effort to hide my pink cheeks, before I run off to my car.

•

It’s been two days since my last class with Mr. Peters. Our conversation hasn’t left my mind once. In fact, it’s led to some rather inappropriate thoughts. I think of him constantly. When making dinner I’m thinking of his low voice whispering in my ear, sending chills down my spine. While driving to work the thought of his bare skin against mine leaves my knees weak. Walking my dog, I can’t help but wonder how exactly he would have his way with me. What would he have me do if I told him I was his for the taking? And most shameful of all; I wonder if he’s having similar thoughts about me.

Pathetic, I know, but I just can’t help it.

Now, I find myself standing in front of my mirror, the entire contents of my closet scattered across my floor as I attempt to pick an outfit. I’ve settled on a dark ankle length wool skirt and knit stockings that come up to my mid-thigh to keep me warm. I’ve tucked a low cut burnt orange sweater into my skirt and behind a thick leather belt. I smile at my reflection. Mr. Peters is a man of class and poise; I believe he’ll find my outfit choice rather charming. I throw on my coat and gloves after lacing my boots and head off to class.

•

I anxiously find my seat in the chilly classroom as I dust the snowflakes out of my hair. Before sitting, I hang my damp coat on the back of the cold chair after tucking my gloves into the coat pocket.

“Good afternoon class,” Mr. Peters voice silences the few mumbles scattered around the room. I hear his footsteps making their way to his desk. I don’t dare turn my head to look at him. “I hope everyone is doing well.” The professor sets his bags down and organizes his plans for the day, taking a sip of coffee from his ceramic travel mug as he sits down in the leather chair. “We’re going to be continuing with our review of chapter 12 today,” his eyes scour the room, finally landing on me, scanning my body up and down before a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. I can’t help but grin back before he turns his body to begin writing notes on the board, starting the lesson. I bounce my leg with anticipation just waiting for my private session with Mr. peters. I long for his proximity, the feeling of his breath on my skin, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. I’m determined to have my way with him after class, if he’ll have me of course. God the next three hours of this class is going to be torture.

•

At last, I’m the only student left in the class. The silence is unbearably loud as Mr. Peters walks to the back of the room to latch the heavy wooden door. My heart pounds with each footstep as he approaches my seat, resting a warm hand on my shoulder.

“Why don’t you pull a chair up to my desk Miss y/l/n.” he suggests. I simply nod standing to pick up the chair. Mr. Peters tisks. “What am I thinking? Allow me y/n,” he steps in front of me to pick up the seat. “You’re wearing such a lovely outfit, I wouldn’t want you to risk ripping that beautiful skirt,” he carries the chair to his desk as I follow behind him. He bends over to set it down. “What’s the occasion?” he asks with a smirk as he straightens back up to meet my eyes. With a surge of confidence,

“I believe you know just the occasion, Mr. Peters.” I smirk back, not allowing myself to break away from his gaze.

“Hm,” he glances over my outfit once more, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth briefly. “So I do, Miss y/l/n.” with that he makes his way to his own seat.

“So, y/n,” Mr. Peters begins before sliding me a packet of papers. “I’ve ran off a more in-depth study guide for you. I suppose the best use of our time, given that the final exam is in just a few weeks, will be to make sure that you understand the core concepts that you will be tested on,” he speaks softly leaning on his elbows rested on the dark wood of the tabletop. I mimic his stance, positioning my elbows on the table, being sure to lean over enough so that some cleavage is exposed. Mr. Peters immediately picks up on my game, glancing down to look at my chest.

“I’ll agree to anything at this point sir. I trust you know best after all, professor,” I coo, looking at the handsome man through my lashes.

“Now, you don’t mean anything Miss y/l/n. I’m sure there’s a lot of things off the table for a lovely young lady such as yourself,” Mr. Peters says lowly. His dark eyes gaze into mine, just mere inches in between us. The proximity of his body to mine and the gruffness of his voice sends a surge of warmth between my legs. I cross and squeeze them in an attempt to get some friction on my core.

“Mr. Peters,” I lean further over the table, my face now so close to his that I can feel his warm breath on my cheeks. “There’s nothing ladylike about the things I would do for you,” I whisper looking into his lust filled eyes. Instantly, Mr. Peters leans forward, closing the space between us. His soft lips move in rhythm with mine. The kiss is polite and gentle. I pull back to look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry y/n,” he looks almost guilty as he stands from his seat then walks over to face me on the other side of his desk.

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask, curious about his suddenly bashful demeaner.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I didn’t even ask permission,” he runs his hand through his hair, seeming almost stressed.

“Mr. peters,” I look up at him from my seat as he towers above me. “You have my permission to do whatever you like,” I smile innocently, gazing into his dark eyes as my hands slip into his waist band, pulling him closer to me. He bends down to envelop me in another kiss. This one is much more ruff; I can feel his desperation as he wraps his hands around my waist and hoists me up into his arms. Without taking his lips off mine, he sets me on the edge of his desk. I giggle as he slides a hand under my wool skirt, running his hand up to find my bare skin where my stocking stop. He smiles into the kiss as I reach for his dark leather belt to pop the buckle undone. He pulls his head away.

“Are you sure you want to do this y/n,” Mr. peters asks, breathless.

“More than anything, Professor,” I answer honestly, my legs still wrapped around his waist.

“I just feel I should take you on a proper date first,” he smiles, brushing some loose hair out of my face.

“Damnit Mr. Peters. If I let you buy me a coffee after this, will you please just fuck me,” I tease, but growing impatient.

“I suppose I can settle for that, since you asked so nicely.” He laughs, shrugging off his blazer and loosening his burgundy tie. He rests his hand on the back of my head, dipping down to meet his lips against mine. His kisses a trail up my jawline and to my ear as I palm him though his slacks. He monas quietly, sending shivers down my spine. My body is burning with lust, I’ve waited so long for this moment. He’s barely touched me and I’m already putty in his strong, warm hands. I slowly move my legs from his waist and stand, spinning us around so that his back is against the desk before dropping to my knees.

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this,” he looks down at me as my fingers work to unbutton his freshly pressed pants.

“Oh, please professor, I’d love to if you’d let me.” My fingers pause as I look up at him, waiting for permission. He just licks and bites his lips, then nods his head. I smile, biting my lip back at him, happily unzipping his pants and sliding them down along with his boxers. With no hesitation, I take his hardened length into my hand rubbing the precum around his tip with my thumb, earning a low groan from him.

“You look so handsome like this, Mr. Peters.” I praise, collecting spit in my mouth then licking from base to tip to before taking him as far in my mouth as I can.

“Holy- fuck,” he gasps. Wide eyes staring down at me, watching as I bob my head up and down on his cock. He moans as his strong hand pulls my hair into a ponytail, using it guide me. The way he’s looking into my eyes as I gag on him makes my core ache. His dark eyes focused on mine with his pink lips pulled into a tight line, his neck strained in pleasure. A single brown curl falls from his slicked back hairdo, flopping against his sweaty forehead with every thrust he makes into my mouth. My moment of admiration is cut short when he pulls away from me, allowing me to gasp for breath.

“Get on the desk,” he commands, pushing some papers onto the floor. I smile and quickly hop onto the now empty table.

“How do you want me?” I ask, still catching breath as I wipe the slobber off the side of my mouth.

“First, lets get you out of this,” he undoes my waist belt, then pulls my orange sweater over my head, tossing it onto his chair. I shiver, but not from the cold air hitting my skin. “Much better,” he smiles as he lays a gentle kiss on my lips. “Now lay down and put your legs up,” he orders as he slips off my snow boots.

“Yes sir,” I oblige laying on the cool wood, bending my knees and resting my feet on the edge of the desk, allowing my long skirt to fall and gather around my waist, exposing my stockings and my bare thighs.

“Miss y/l/n, you are truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he swoons, laying wet kisses on my thighs. Each peck feels as though it’s charged, sending electric course through my veins. “May I?” he asks permission as his fingers loop into the waist band of my cotton underwear.

“I insist,” I smile. He gets to his knees before pulling the thin fabric off, then grabs my hips, pulling me swiftly to the edge of the table. I gasp the sudden movement as he positions my legs on his shoulders. I hear my professor chuckle lowly.

“Look at you,” he takes his thumb and spreads my slick up to my clit, earning a small moan from me. “So ready for me already?”

“Mr. Peters, I’ve been ready for you since our first class togeth-“ I interrupt myself with a gasp, shooting my hand down to grip his hair as he licks my clit and a single digit slips past my entrance.

“Mm,” he hums, moving his head to look up at me but still pumping into me with his finger, making my toes curl. “I guess the feeling is mutual then. I can’t say I was anything but thrilled to see your name on my roster again this year,” he finishes then goes back to working his expert tongue on my bundle of nerves sending pleasure to every part of my body. My stocking clad thighs tighten around his head and my back arches off the table. No one I’ve ever been with has made me feel this good. His finger hits the perfect spot with every pump, his tongue moves in every way I need it to. My body feels like its on fire in the best way possible.

“I’m so close Mr. Peters,” I encourage him with a moan, feeling the familiar tightness in my stomach as my legs begin to tremble around his head. He responds by slipping another finger inside, curling them into the most sensitive part of my body while he laps at my clit. I feel my walls pulse around his fingers as I come undone, moaning a mix of profanities and his name. Pure bliss surges through my body as he slows down his fingers, allowing me to ride out my orgasm.

“Fuck,” I pant as he stands up, licking my juices off his fingers before grabbing my back, helping me sit up to face him. Mr. peters opens his mouth to say something, but before he can speak I grab his tie, pulling him in to crash his lips into mine, wrapping my legs around him causing his length to rub against my soaked core, earning a groan against my lips. My shaky hands reaches down to his hard cock to pump him.

“You’re sure this is what you want y/n?” he pants against my lips.

“Of course,” I whisper. Mr. Peters reaches down to line himself up with me, slowly sliding in with ease from how slick he’s made me. I wrap my hands around his neck, throwing my head back as a sigh of pleasure escapes my lips.

“Is this okay?” Mr. Peters groans. I nod my head

“Faster,” I pant. His hands snake around my back grabbing my ass through my skirt as he begins to pound into me. I scream in pleasure. Mr. Peters hand clasps over my mouth.

“Not so loud sweetie,” he chuckles, reminding me that there are classes in session down the hall. He uses his hand on my back to pull me impossibly closer, mercilessly thrusting deeper inside me than anything’s ever been before. My eyes roll back as I grab onto the arm muffling my screams. I dig my nails into the sleeve of the white button up as pure euphoria and sweat drips out of my every pore.

“Fuck, you feel so good, y/n.” My professor grunts, watching my breasts bounce with every thrust of his hips. I can do nothing but mumble into his hand, because if he removes it, the whole campus will hear what we’re doing. I feel my second orgasm building as my hole body begins to tremble. I look into Mr. Peters lust filled eyes, as he bites his lip in concentration and pleasure. Now, a few loose curls are stuck to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. The sleeves of his once neatly pressed buttonup is pulled tight against his toned arm as he flexes his bicep in order to keep the death grip on my on my mouth that’s keeping me quiet. I feel my core pulse as I tip over the edge of my second orgasm. Mr. Peters groans loudly, pulling my lips to his in a sloppy kiss to muffle both our screams of pleasure. I release around him, digging my nails into his neck. He reaches down to rub circles on my bundle of nerves, encouraging my orgasm. I bury my head in the the crook of his neck, biting the soft skin as overstimulation soon overtakes the pleasure. Mr. Peters pulls out, pumping himself to his own orgasm as he spills his seed all over my thighs and the knit fabric of my socks, biting his lip and letting out strangled moans.

He lays his foread against mine, placing a kiss to my nose.

“You’re so beautiful.” He pants out in a whisper, then reaches down to tuck himself back into his pants.

“Thank you.” I blush, feeling a bit exposed now. Sitting on his desk topless, pantiless, and covered in my professors semen.

“Allow me to clean you up miss y/l/n,” he walks over to grab some tissues out of his drawer, wiping up the mess he made as best he could.

He grabs my hand and helps me to my trembling feet. I grab my sweater off his chair and slip it onto my sweaty skin.

“uhm,” I look around. “Mr. Peters what have you done with my underwear?” I ask with a giggle.

“Hm,” he pauses his hands that were fixing his tie, looking around as well. “oh, here they are,” he chuckles, grabbing them off the a students chair a few feet away. I take the fabric out of his hand slide them on under my warm skirt. “Allow me to help you with your boots, Miss y/l/n.” he grabs the heavy shoes and sets me down in his desk chair, slipping them on.

“How kind,” I giggle, reaching to bush his loose curls back to where theyre supposed to be. He smiles, laying a kiss on my hand before standing to grab his blazer.

“Now, I believe I owe you a coffee.” He takes my arm in his, leading me to my seat so I can bundle up and collect my belongings.

“Mr. Peters, I was only kidding.” I smile, putting my gloves on before following him to the door.

“Well I most certainly wasn’t, y/n.” He grins, showing his precious dimples. I cant stop smiling no matter how hard I try as he opens the door for me.

I think I’m finally going to pass this class.

#ahs cult #ahs hotel #evan peters #evan peters smut #jimmy darling smut #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs asylum #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #quicksilver #quicksilver smut #peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #evan peters x reader #warren lipka #Kia Anderson smut #jimmy darling x reader

316 notes · View notes