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angelisverba · 6 months

Text

praise

in which y/n notices something isn't quite right with her professor, and harry loves chasing this little bunny

word count: 5.5k

pairing: vamp!h and y/n (but really it's more like professor!h with a side of vampire)

warnings: this fic contains graphic depictions of sex and blood.

author's note: happy late halloween!

When y/n was little, her mother always told her to stay inside on Halloween.

She never got to go trick-o-treating like the other kids because of this, not until she was old enough to pay for her own costume, but by that time it was too late because trick-o-treating turned into bar hopping and candy turned into drinks. She took part in these activities for as long as it took for her to figure out that she didn't like alcohol or big crowds or dressing up.

Also by that time, many of the holidays took place around the time that she was stressing about papers and exams and midterms and other deadlines a college students faces around the end of the semester. She was a dedicated, busy little bee with few friends that knew her enough to know that when she's focused, theres no getting her to come out for anything, so they didn't even extend invites.

Which is why she finds herself inside, at the library, on Halloween night. She has a little ear worm of Linus writing his letter to the great pumpkin running around in her brain, but that's as far as her spooky spirit goes. The rest of it is consumed in her paper about sublime notions of nature in the latest gothic novel assigned by her literature professor, Mr. Styles.

Had it been any other teacher, she wouldn't have lingered so much on grammar, word choice, or reading her paper over and over again so that her ideas were clear and concise, but... but there was something about him. She can't really but her finger on it, but a big part of it is fear. Intimidation. He's so... commanding in the way that he carries himself. Almost menancing, his figure carrying the threat of punishment.

He walked into the lecture hall everyday dressed like a model from a vintage academia magazine. Tweed bottoms. Button up shirts. Loafers. Sleek black shoes. A pristine silver watch on his wrist. A golden chain that twinkled on his neck and disappeared into the collars of his shirts like a shooting star. Slicked back chocolate brown hair from which a single curl sometimes escaped and swayed on his forehead like the hooked tail of a monkey. Tailored pants that accentuated the litheness of his hips perfectly so, making her wonder if he had them altered to fit him exactly. A badge on a simple, black attachment pinned on his hip spelled his name underneath a coyly smirking ID picture of his face; Harry Styles.

So y/n had a little crush.

A silly little bundle of love-misted roses perched in her heart with a ribbon and a name tag that had her English professor’s name on it.

She tried to tell herself that it was a school girl’s crush (it literally was), but it was hard to keep her daydreams cemented underneath the rounded realm of reality when her heart kept reading into every single little interaction she had with him, knowing that all her fantasies would only ever exist in her dreams because he was an employee. He was older than her. He would never be interested in a girl, a student, like her. His serious disposition did nothing to quell her.

In fact, it almost egged her on. The perfectionist in her wanted to be perfect for him, so be praised by him for her hard work. She wanted so badly to be his teacher's pet that it reflected in her work ethic. Every paper she turned in was better than her last, she paid rapt attention in class, took the most intricate care in her notes. She always looked her best on the days she had his class- black ballet flats with black skirts, frilly socks, cardigans and collared blouses- ever the neat student. She's every professor's wet dream, she knows this.

Yet, the approval and validation that she craved. No, needed. The validation she needed from him was never given to her, no matter how hard she worked. The notes on her paper were always asking for more, she could do better, she could be more clear, she wasn't quite*getting it. And he always left a note that she should see him in his office hours.

But she couldn't.

Y/n was sure that she would spontaneously combust is she was in an enclosed one-on-one space with him. Which was funny because many of the female students fought for that time with him. One time she heard a few girls in her class say that they tried to call him by his first name and he told them that "it was Professor Styles or Sir to them". Just listening to it second hand was enough to have her squirming. The though it, to have his striking green eyes on only her, his gravely, accented voice directed at her. It was an intoxicating though.

She could imagine it.

He would sit on the other side of his desk in that suave way of his, ankle crossed at his knee, one hand resting on the arm of his chair while the other props his chin up as his finger taps against his sharp cheekbone. He would watch her with an unwavering, predatory gaze, like he's waiting for her to make a mistake to step in and correct her. Y/n would sit in the seat across from him, her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting, her lips wet with her spit from how much she'd chew on them, her eyes unfocused and struggling to keep contact with him. The silence in the room would probably be filled with her 'umm's and 'like'. She'd be so nervous, and he would see right through her, and all her hard work would be diminished to nothing.

And then she would probably cry and Professor Styles doesn't really look like the type to console his students, so y/n would just embarrass herself.

So she settles for putting her all into her work, tweaking what he's made notes on from previous papers, and hoping that it's enough, that one of these days she'll she exclamation points at the end of praise instead of at the end of 'explain this'.

With a weepy, overwhelmed sigh, y/n rubbed her fists into her eyes and ran words over and over again in her head. She was the last one in the library, the light from the lamp at her desk was the only source of illumination in her little study corner. This late into the semester the school didn't close libraries, opting to not get in the way of students and their work. It was nearing midnight, and she was getting tired, but this paper was due in two days and she wanted at least one to edit it.

A little delirious from lack of sleep and anger from how difficult this was all turning out to be, y/n blinked back tears. She was a little cold and she was hungry. But she was not going to leave until this paper was finished.

She would however close her eyes, just for a little while. Y/n put her head down on the desk, telling herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes, that she was not going to fall asleep.

But like every college student that snoozes their alarm twenty million times because they're just going to rest their eyes for a few more minutes, she falls asleep.

She startles awake in the dark at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

When she jerks upright, Professor Styles is sitting across from her, reading her paper.

***

Harry is so fucking hungry, and he's looking for a snack. Maybe even a meal if he can get away with it.

He hasn't fed in nearly a month, and normally even two weeks is pushing it. But it was the month of October, and as the holidays neared and the parties increased, so did security and people's guard. It was extra hard to find a bite now, not the kind he liked.

Sweet, pure, and innocent. Untainted flavor.

A few days ago he managed to snag a few blood bags from the campus' blood drive center, but it wasn't enough. He craved the puncture, the warmth of a body in his arms, the fresh throb of a pulse underneath his tongue. He wanted the erotic writhing of struggle and submission against his body. Many of his kind didn't share their fondness for this part, but he loved taking care of them afterwards. Making sure they were okay, steady. Sated in the same ways he was. Being a vampire came with the ability of glamour, a bit of mind influencing, so that he was able to make the situation a little more favorable on his end.

He had decided to go for a stroll, having been caught up late in his office grading papers, when he caught a hint of something sweet and familiar in the night air.

It reminded him of one his students, y/n.

She always sat in the middle of the third row with perfect posture, listened to his lectures as if he was God. Her eyes would get mooney, and if he listened hard enough (which to him wasn't really that hard because he was a vampire, he had super human hearing) he could hear her heart beat faster in the seconds that his eyes held contact with her as he talked, delicate and quick like the wings of a hummingbird. Everything she turned in was perfect. She was smart but not pretentious in her way of writing, and something about the way she wrote reminded him about the tender inside of a wrist. Her wrist.

But Harry was mean, and he liked to tease, and he could tell that y/n was waiting. She was sitting on a precipice, hanging on to his very word, her body strung taught and stressed. She was waiting on him. He was going to make her wait until he did as he asked. He wanted one on one time with her, and until then, he wouldn't give her what she wanted.

Whether she realized it or not, she was teasing him, too. In ways that y/n probably wasn't even aware of. The way she bit her lips so they were bright with her blood right underneath the surface, the promise of her heat with every exaggerated sigh she let out as she walked out of his lecture hall. Her clothes, god they killed him.

She wore these black kitten heels once, and they drove him crazy.

Now, he knows his place as Professor, and he didn't just get this job to fuck around. He enjoyed teaching and knowing secretly that he knew first had about the things he was talking about. He loved seeing how his life was absorbed by the younger faces (not that he looked old, he would forever appear to be 23). He respected others, their will, their purpose, and only went as far as his moral compass would let him to take care of his needs.

But he was a man, and he could be brought to his knees by a pretty thing like y/n.

Harry remembers that day, how his trousers were uncomfortable and he had to spend the whole time behind his podium. How he needed to slyly inch a calculating hand to the ever-growing uncomfortable center of his groin and tug the snug fabric away from their vacuum-sealed hold on his hips. It was maddening for him, but uncomfortable for her (he thinks). She never wore them again, and he suspects they may have hurt her delicate feet if the way she kept shifting was anything to go by.

Not that he noticed.

Harry most definitely did not notice that the tip of her toes kept tittering tenderly up and around in slow, hypnotizing circles, meant to relieve pent up tension. He most definitely did not notice that the way her frilly white socks kept sliding down the slope of her ankle with every movement. Or the tantalizing trekk of her delicate fingers against the curve of her thigh, behind her knee, and a little further where the pads of her lucky fingers dug into the soft, aching- he assumed- flesh of her calves. He didn’t fucking hold his breath and become stiller than a statue to try and to hear the sweet, breathy sighs of relief that left her parted lips. No, he did not. That would be a violation of the contract he signed upon assuming his position. It would be betraying the trust of the snarky, reluctant, port-belly head of academics that judged his ambiguous resume with reluctance.

Of course he didn’t. And he wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that he never saw them again.

This student of his had captured his attention this semester, almost distracting him. Her smell, from what he knows the few times he caught a whiff of it amongst all the others, was sweet, yet not overwhelmingly so. It was mellowed out and warm, and the closest thing he could compare it to from the food he had as a human, was apple pie. She was warm, sweet, honeyed, with the zest of cinnamon.

He wanted to taste her so fucking badly.

Harry doesn't know if it's because he's so hungry that he's smelling her now.

Trailing after the scent with his nose leading the way like a drooling dog, he wonders- no, he knows that he won't be able to fight the urge to taste her if it's really her he finds at the end of the line.

It gets stronger in the library, but from the looks of it, it's dark and empty. From the looks of it, but Harry knows better. He can hear better and smells better, and he knows she's in here. The swift intake of her breath rings in the silence, his ears picking up on the only human sound in the buildings. The near-silent whines that sit at the base of her throat and die before they exit through her nose.

Her hearbeat.

Calm. Steady. Alive.

It sounds like a drum, low and pounding and it thrills him.

He wants to hear it beat faster and faster, like a bunny when it's being chased. He wants to hear the even paced breaths become rapid and disorganized with heightened emotion.

He can smell her, too, the delightful aroma making his fangs itch and his loins ache. Walking further into the library, the stacks of books growing dense with sharp corners and cozy study nooks, he can trace the direct path she took to her spot- the table in the corner with the lamp still on. She has her head resting on her arms, hair haphazardly strewn across the wooden table and some papers, a pencil between her fingers still.

She probably set her head down after saying she was only gong to rest her eyes. She's probably been here for a really long time, he can hear her stomach growling. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulls the chair back with a motion that's sure to wake her up at the same time that he pinches the paper with two fingers and begins to read.

Waking with a little gasp, y/n straightened. He could pinpoint the exact moment she became fully cognizant of what was happening because her heartbeat picked up in a way that concerned him, and she became utterly still. From the corner of his eye (Harry was reading her paper, a really good paper, and hadn't looked at her. Not even once) he could see her mouth open and close a few times, words escaping her. Y/n rolled the pencil between hands that had begin to perspire and began to chew on her bottom lip.

Internally, Harry groaned. He needed to get her to stop doing that because he was imagining things that no person is his position of power needed to be imagining and his cock was fattening against his thigh. He was hungry in more ways than one for her. A part of him wanted to mark her up like he was a dog and she was his chew toy, licking and sucking and biting on the sweetest parts of her to suckle on her blood; everywhere. The other wanted to do all of those things, and not just for her blood.

He had to get her to speak.

The paper that he held in his hands was probably the best that he was going to get from her class, or maybe all of them put together. The ideas were fresh with just the perfect amount of information from his lectured tossed in for a response to the prompt on the book they were currently discussing. But he had to keep playing his game with her, he had to see her fold like a ragdoll. He wasn't going to tell her what he truly thought about it, how it was so good, how she was such a good student, how she made him so proud. How she was a good girl.

Instead he put the paper down in front of her, crossed his arms and spread his legs in the chair to give his swollen dick some room and said, "you should go home. Have a meal. Go to sleep.”

At this her shoulders sagged, and it was like watching dominoes fall against each other to release different triggers, Her lips crumpled, her chin wobbled, and her eyes blinked away a sea of crystalline tears.

Y/n stared at him, a wet look that punched his gut at the same time that it made his gums salivate and his hips itch to thrust up against the desk like a thing in heat. He looked back at her, his head tipping slowly to the side to track her gaze as it dropped. Like a predatory, he observed her with the kind of stillness that promised a charge of action. That promised death in the maw of a killer.

Her mouth did that thing where it opened and closed again, sounds that came before actual words coming out of her, but never intelligible sentences. Her heart was racing, but her lungs were doing a weird thing. Like they weren't getting enough oxygen.

"Why don't you take a deep breath , hmm? And we can talk about what's going on here," he got up from his chair and stood at the side of his desk, arms crossed and feet spread shoulder width apart, formidable. If she looked closely enough, she would be able to see a thick bulge at his crotch.

But she didn't have a reason to look. He wasn't adjusting himself. He didn't even look like it bothered him.

In fact, he looked almost... mad.

Y/n looked at him straight in the eyes, and her's went doe-like, everything in her stilling like the fawn-like creature in the way of an oncoming vehicle.

Everything, including her breathing.

He wasn't going to have her passed out before all the fun began. Needing to get a grip on her, he took a few heavy steps foward, and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the other hand tucking into his pocket to actually adjust himself this time because it was starting to get uncomfortable.

Tilting her face up and closer to him, he bent forward so that their noses were barely touching. Her warm breath huffed against his nose, and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.

"Breathe, y/n. You can do it," peering down at her with his jack slightly slack and his eyes at half mast, he imitated inhaling deeply, and she mimicked his motions. Her lungs expanded, and her heart slowed slightly. "That's it, darling. Again."

She gulped and her hands squeezed the fabric of the plaid tennis skirt she was wearing, bringing the hem up slightly so the thinner skin on the inside of her thighs gleamed at Harry.

Then he smelled it, and this time he didn't fight the shiver that ran through him. She was wetHis eyes closed, and a groan rolled deep in his chest. His body tensed and relaxed at the same time, like a transformation.

And when he opened his eyes, he was a different version of himself.

One that didn't give a fuck that he was a professor and she was his student.

This version only had one goal in mind: to consume her in every way he could until y/n went limp in his arms.

"Now what's the matter, little bunny?"

***

Y/n didn't know what was happening, only that something had... changed.

She might have been a quivering mess for him, but she felt the shift in him. The edge to him. The gleam in his eye. She had seen his body shiver at the same time she felt her pussy clench at his words. That's it, darling. Again. Little bunny.

He was encouraging her, not far off from what she wanted to hear from him. It stroked her muddled brain and made her feel fuzzy all over. Some of what he was saying was very inappropriate. But she could care less.

“W-what?” she mumbled, confused. She blinked so that a few tears ran down her face, and she couldn't even feel embarrassed about it.

“Y’heard me loud and clear, darling. Don’t make me repeat myself," her professor tutted.

"i'm sorry, sir. It's just that... I need to work on my paper." And she mumbled something afterwards. Low enough that he wouldn't have been able hear if he was a human. But he wasn't. That didn't mean he couldn't play with her.

"Speak up, y/n. Good girls don't mumble." His tongue was like a lashing, a reprimand, and she felt the scolding everywhere.

"It needs to be better for you, sir." Gulping, she rubbed her thighs together and shuffled in her seat. Y/n was finally one-on-one with him, and she thought she knew what it would feel like.

She was wrong.

Everything was sensitive. Hot. Cold. She was twitchy and there was this squirrley, jumpy feeling inside her. She wanted to run away like a little mouse, but she also wanted to be warmed in his hands. By his words. She wanted to hear the praise come from him so that she could stop feeling so desperate.

Y/n got like this sometimes. Whiny. Insatiable. But no one ever knew how to handle her, when to realize that she was finally full. So she was always... hungry. Like something inside her needed to be stuffed. Abused a little, maybe. She wanted to be handled and then petted. Fucked and kissed and then held. She wanted to be good.

And being like this with him, in a position that made it seem like that was possible, y/n thrummed.

Humming in realization, he stroked his knuckles down the side of her face in a caress, "and what makes you think it isn't already good?"

She leaned into his touch without realizing it, nuzzling into his hand. All she had to do now was purr. Y/n shut her eyes before speaking, "Y-you... you never-"

"Open your eyes and look at me when you're speaking, bunny." Again, the stern, scolding tone. This time it made her flinch and whimper. Her hips rocked in the chair, and he tracked the movement like a leopard in the trees ready to pounce. Y/n knew that he saw, and her face bloomed with heat.

In a breathy, chocked string of words, "you never leave nice notes on my papers, sir. All the others do, but there never any on mine and I just thought... that I n-needed to work harder to be b-better."

She shuffled again in her seat, and her professor's eyes pinched. His had trailed down to her throat, and he squeezed to hold her still.

“Stop squirming, y/n. You want to be better? Stop fucking squirming," and he released her with a small pulse at the base of her neck. He could feel his teeth bulging under his upper lip, the thrum of her life under his fingers enticing him further. Every bit of reason was escaping him. He was going to lose control. Decades of practice, of edging on months of hunger, were nothing to her allure.

He stepped back at the same time that he realized they weren't close enough.

"Stand up," he told her. He watched as she pushed the chair back and stood on wobbly knees, her gaze still searching for recognition that he had heard what she had said, that he had read between the lines and realized what she needed. "Sit on the edge of the table, facing me so we can speak properly."

When she was seated and her hands began to fiddle in her lap, he stepped close enough that her knees were almost touching his hips. And she couldn't miss it this time. The thick length of him, hard against his hip.

"S-sir?" she prompted meekly.

"You want me to leave nice notes on your papers, y/n?" He asked, settling his hands on either side of her and haunching over her so they were nose-to-nose. She could smell him, strong masculine scents of vintage leather and tobacco and bergamot.

Nodding eagerly like a dog, "mhm. Yes, sir."

"Then why didn't you come see me like I asked on every single one of those papers? You didn't listen to me, so why should I reward you?" He mouthed the words against her skin, trailing them down her jaw to her throat where he teased the skin with the tip of his nose.

The area around her neck felt scorching hot, his lips trailing searingly against her. She couldn't hide how desperate she was anymore. She arched, her body was taught, fighting the urge to wriggle because she couldn't decide if she wanted to get away from him or have more of him, and she needed to be good. He had told her to stop squirming.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

Y/n closed her eyes and tentatively braced herself against him. Trembling hands settled on his arms, thick with deceptive muscle. She could feel the strength hiding beneath the surface, tense like a snake preparing to strike. A strong hand settled at her waist, clamping like iron, and another on cupped her jaw tenderly. It was a dichotomy of treatment. Rough and tender at the same time.

"You were a bad girl, y/n."

Then she felt it, a sharp sting where her throat met her shoulder, where Harry was biting her, and licking her, and suckling at her all at the same time. A mixture of a squeal and a moan jumped out of her, and she dug her fingers into his arms, frozen. Whatever he was doing to her hurt. But it hurt in a good way. A way that made her ache with that need to be filled.

She cried out, "I'm sorry, sir." A wet apology that bared how anguished she was.

His hot tongue flattened against her, and she she vibrated in the place where he left his heavy pant, "are you going to be good for me, bunny?"

"Yes, sir. I wanna be good, please," her head was bobbing in that earnest way again, but with his head in the crook of her neck he could only feel the movement against his hair.

He suckled a little more at bite that was already beginning to close, kissing it tenderly, "gonna be my good little bunny?"

Y/n was huffing, not even bothering to hide that she was horny, “please, p-please- I need-”

“Tell me exactly what you need. C'mon, you can do it,” he coaxed her. The hand at her hip molded the flesh there, pulling her closer to him so she was sitting just at the edge, and her knees were pressed into his dick with the lightest pressure. He bucked against her, a slow roll of his groin against her delicate bare knee.

“I need to cum, sir. I need-”

“Don’t-” he pinched her hip roughing, his thick eyebrows furowing in disapproval, “forget your manners, little bunny. Rude darlings don’t get to cum.”

"Please let me cum, Professor," she repeated, eyes glossy but no longer with tears. This was something else. Something needy. Y/n could feel her slick juices seeping through her panties and making the insides of her thighs sticker. The triangle of cloth was sticking to her, and the tight feeling of it against her clit made her want to scream. It was just barely pushing, a teasing sensation that was driving her crazy.

She wanted him to touch her. To rub her swollen clit until she drenched hand in her cum, and then to- to-

"I'm not sure I should, y/n. You didn't listen to me. Didn't come to my office. Instead I had to come find you here. What about me, hmm? What if I need something from you?" Harry leaned back, letting his hands run down so they rested on her knees and his fingers could play with the hem of her skirt.

"Whatever you need, sir. Please." Y/n was beginning to sound a little broken. Her hips struggled to stay planted on the desk and her knuckled turned white from how hard she gripped the edge of the wood. She would much rather touch him, but he was too far away and she didn't want to upset him. She stared at him, silently pleading for his hands to creep up and shove into her panties, to play with her hole.

"Right now I need to eat you, little bunny. Are you going to let me?" He tilted his head at her again, calculating. Waiting, observing.

"Yes!" Y/n shrieked, her thighs trembling.

"Spead these pretty thighs, darling. Let me have a taste," he crooned down at her as she opened up, her skirting riding so he could see her panties, how wet they were, nearly transparent with her arousal. With a deft finger, he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side and dropped to his knees.

Y/n whined at the look on his face. Mouth parted, eyes half-lidded and downturned. He looked hungry. Desperate.

Without warning he leaned forward and covered her with his mouth, his tongue licking her and then dipping into her pussy to collect what had pooled at her opening, his teeth lighting tapping against her clit. He thrusted his tongue into her once, twice, three times, and that was all it took. A gush of wetness coated his tongue, and her tremors pulsed against his lips.

He leaned back and slapped her cunt with an angry growl, and then shoved two fingers into her, fucking her roughly so his fingers got wet with her, "seriously, y/n? Did I give you permission to cum?"

"N-no, sir," as she sat hunched over his kneeling form still twitching, Harry shoved his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of her, and then stood up, not even bothering to lay her panties right before yanking her to stand.

"Get up. We're going to walk to my rooms. Your'e doing to do so quietly, and when we get there, you're going to take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand me?" With a single finger pointed at her, y/n understand she was in for it. Her hands flew to pick up her things, showing her papers into her bag and looping it on her shoulder so she was ready to go.

"I understand, Professor"

He took the bag off her shoulder and laid a hand on her lower back, keeping her at his side as he led her out of the library and into the night, "that's better. Come this way. The night is still young, bunny, and we're both in for a treat."

*****

happy halloweenie!! hoped u liked this heehee. missed mr. vamp. lmk ur thoughts!!!

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kooeater · 6 months

Text

gun | JJK

Jungkook x f.reader

smut, fluff

warnings: mentions of guns, weed smoking, unprotected sex, oral (f receving) cowgirl, riding, nipple piercings, slight nipple play, fluffy cute end, slight coquette reader, dirty talk, switch jk + reader

"What the fuck is this?! why is there a gun on your nightstand?!" Jungkook never held a gun before, the one in his hand was slightly shaking from his nerves. Guns were scary as hell to him, one of the worst things to just have laying around in his opinion.

He doesn't really care if he looks like a bitch crying about a gun while his now soft cock is hanging out. Finding a gun on his coworker's nightstand after sex wasn't on his to do list but he can write it down and cross it out now.

"For protection? What else would I have a gun silly." the way you're giggling as you take a hit from your joint with no care in the world kind of scares him.

"Well, if you're going to have a gun shouldn't you get lessons for it first? Just common sense of course." he says before he puts on his grey sweatpants that just shows he wants to fuck again which is great because so do you.

"Baby, I know how to use a gun." you roll your eyes as you look in the mirror, you looked so hot.

The joint in your hand, white panties with a cute lace bow in the front, boobs just hanging out freely, your lacy socks and pink ribbon bows in your hair. You can totally get why a hot babe like Jungkook would beg to hit.

(Jungkook was your boss, the owner and best tattoo artist of the most famous tattoo shop in the city. He knew you in high school for a bit until he dropped out to work on his business. Luckily for him business is going so fucking great. He hired you as the shop's main piercer since you defiantly had a good talent with the needle. You had all your tattoos done by Jungkook and he had all his piercings done by you, you two trust each other like that. Oh, and also, you two fuck. )

It wasn't long until you found yourself on your bed again, legs wide open as his head is in between your thighs. You weren't a big squirting girl, however Jungkook goes insane with that mouth and 2 fingers motion. His mouth sucking on your pink pearly clit as 2 of his tattooed fingers slide in and out of your tight hole had your thighs shaking, your liquid slicking down his fingers and chin.

"Fuck Koo ~ so fucking good yes, don't stop I'm going to cum all over your pretty face." your moans were like angels singing in his ears.

He was eating you out like he hasn't ate anything in ages, your pussy had so much impact on that man it's insane. Your pussy wasn't the only thing he was obsessed with, you in general. The way he's eating your pussy is the way he wants to eat you whole. His fingers slam into you hard and fast, they start to hit this sweet spot inside of you making you let out this moan you never even heard yourself let out.

"You gonna squirt on my face and fingers baby? Go ahead, make a mess on my face." his words were so sexy, and he really wanted you to squirt all over his face. He never had a girl squirt before, he wanted you to be the first and only.

It wasn't long until you found yourself screaming and pulling on his hair, his tongue deep inside your gummy like walls, thighs wrapped around his head as you push his nose closer to rub on your clit for that push to your climax.

You squirted all over his face just like he wanted you to. The slurping sounds that were coming from him drove you insane. He wants you so bad he's going as far as drinking up every liquid you release.

Before Jungkook can say anything, you hop on his lap, so his semi hard member is rubbing against your upper inner thigh.

"Let me ride it until I cream." is all you say before sinking down on his long thick length.

You raise your hips up and down his cock both you and him let out sounds of pure pleasure. Jungkook looks down at the base of his cock and rams upward into you a bit as he can see a ring of your cream around him. Before you can say anything about how good you're making him feel, you start to move up and down on his cock like you were at a rodeo.

" 's feels so fucking good. No one makes this pussy as messy as your cock does." moaning out loud with no care in the world you were.

His tattooed hands reach for your ass, squeezing them as you got on your tippy toes and started going back and forth on his member. Your ass makes contact with his thighs as you eagerly hop up and down and side by side. The energy you got when he was inside you was unmatched, not even energy drinks can have that impact on you.

"Fucking hell, yeah ride it just like that baby" his whimpers and moans send vibrations straight to your clit that was rubbing up and down on his lower abdomen.

His tip was going insane inside of you, unforgivingly abusing your g spot so good you feel like you're about to let out the loudest scream known to mankind. Your boobs were also so huge and squishy you weren't surprised when Jungkook started to grope them like stress balls. He played with your tits and that didn't faze the speed of your riding until that little shit decided to wrap his lips around your pierced nipples, humming on the piercing bars so they can vibrate while his lips sucked around them.

" 'm going to cum Jungkook I'm going to cum!" that was always his favorite line that would come out of your mouth.

The way your gummy like walls squeeze around his quivering member told him everything he needed to know. Jungkook quickly started to thrust up inside of you, making sure that your tight walls feel every vein and ridge of his cock going up and down them. The pleasure was too much that your body goes kind of limp, your hands going to grip on his shoulders as he fucks up into you like you're his last fuck.

"Cum all over this cock baby, I'll fill you up with my kids' baby hm? You'll like that won't you?" his cocky taunting voice did nothing but help bring yourself to your climax. You chanted little "yeses" as you creamed all around his cock, His head tilted back as he shot his cum deep inside your womb.

Both yours and his climaxes got so intense not one word was spoken for a good 3 minutes. You lay on his body, your body slightly jerking up and down as his chest moves from his deep breaths.

While you were drifting to sleep on his body, Jungkook kept thinking about his future. He saw a new big, nice house he'd buy from his tattoo shop that is so famous at the moment, he saw a mini-Jeon coloring in his tattoos as he tries to take a nap after a long day at work. He saw a woman, at first, he thought it was his mother but no, it was you. You were a part of his future; you were smiling happily at the sight of your son and your husband cuddling together. You would come home early from piercing shifts at the shop to surprise your son from daycare, then take him out early so he can go see daddy at work. He smiled at the visions he had and opened his eyes to you staring at him with tired eyes.

"What were you thinking about? Come on tell me tell me tell me!" you pinch his cheeks, fully aware how annoying you were being.

"Thinking of you, of us. I'm going to marry you, you know? We're going to have a son together and a beautiful big house." he looks at how you smile at his words, making him smile as well. "We're going to be in the deepest of love, I promise."

"Well, Jungkook, first you should ask me on a date. Maybe we'll move in together, expand the shop, then we can get married, and you can get me pregnant if you haven't already. Sounds fun honestly."

the more that you think about it, the more you want it to happen.

"Looks like we'll have to get rid of this gun then. Since you know, can't be safe around our future son." he chuckles out as he holds you close, pointing at your nightstand where the gun was at.

"Of course, Why would I need a gun for protection if I'm going to have you in my life forever?"

an: hii guys omg I worked hard on this fic don't let it flop lmao. I hope you guys enjoy this and YES this is inspired by the song "gun" by Doja cat pls the song is so so good make sure to listen to it !! Like and follow if u feel like it 🤍🎀

- belle 🌸

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willowser · 7 months

Text

really what prompted my double boy dad bakugou post was the idea of his older son — who is six, nearing seven — coming out of his room with messy, sleep-mussed hair and wandering into the kitchen on an early morning when katsuki's getting ready for work.

and your youngest is a little terror. spoiled rotten, katsuki thinks, was too babied and that's why he doesn't listen and has temper tantrums in the middle of the floor and is already throwing punches at three. katsuki's old witch of a mother thinks he'll be bulkier than his older son and twice as mean, prone to pinning his brother to the ground until he's declared the greatest.

(katsuki feels both horror and pride, at the very thought.)

it hasn't always been easy for your oldest; becoming a big brother never is. not that katsuki would know what that's like, but he hated to even share a playground with deku, much less share his one and only mommy, so he can only imagine what his own son went through when his brother arrived.

but he's been great about it, which comes as no surprise because his oldest has always been great about everything. gets his little brother out of bed and reminds him of his manners—even as he's getting whacked—gives up his toys just so the baby won't cry. he's too smart for his own good, acting like a big boy now—and it makes katsuki nostalgic in a way that hurts.

there hasn't been a lot of time for just the two of them. not like there used to be.

so when his firstborn comes to stand beside him in the kitchen, to lean his head against his dad's hip and rub at his sleepy eyes—katsuki just ruffles his already messy hair, before giving his ear a little tug.

"should be asleep," he grumbles to him, "sun's not even up yet."

his son only shrugs, yawns hard; despite this, he says, "'m not tired."

katsuki snorts and continues with his routine: finishes his protein shake, gives the kid a sip when he thinks he wants one (he doesn't really, though he tries not to make a face at the taste as he nods, as if he likes it), makes sure he's got all his work shit in his bag for patrol later. and his son is mostly quiet, content to share in the morning just between the two of them after katsuki sits him on the counter.

and then he asks, "can i come to work with you?"

on instinct, katsuki glances at his shut bedroom door, where you're still fast asleep, on the other side, and then down the hallway to where his youngest is sleeping, too.

technically, the kid probably could because you're off work today, and you could come pick him up later before katsuki has to head out, but—

"your brother won't be happy if i take you and not him."

and your oldest is a good big brother. has more patience than katsuki ever did, knows how to share—but on this morning that the two of them are indulging in, he only shrugs.

"well," he sighs—and he sounds so grown up, sounds like you when you're leveling with katsuki. "if he wanted to go then he should have got up, too."

"that why you're awake?" katsuki frowns, though his son only shrugs again. the idea that he's gotten up way too early, at the ass-crack of dawn just to have some extra time with his dad is too—

"yeah," katsuki murmurs, nodding at him to hop off the counter. "get your socks on so we can go."

there won't be anything for him to do in the agency office, besides get an endless amount of cups of water from the dispenser and all the candy in the receptionist's bowl and attention from the older ladies that thinks he's just so stinking cute.

but at least they'll be together, just the two of them. like old times.

#idk !! i just had this picture in my head of katsuki feeling bad bc he doesnt get enough time with his oldest son 🥺#enough time with his kids at all but 🥺 definitely less with his firstborn after his brother comes along 🥺#and so sometimes they do little things like this #take a quick run to the grocery store together or he'll walk around the neighborhood with his dad #or he'll take him to work just to have some extra quality time 🥺 just the two of them 🥺#and it seemed so sweet !! so here it is hehe #cw children #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: dad bakugou #✿ theme: domestic bakugou

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st4rymoon · 20 days

Text

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐊𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖+

• Generous

.ᐟ Simon letting Konig get a taste of u bc he doesn’t get laid much and feels bad about how long he's been away without making you feel good :(

• dumbification, 3 sum, p in v, cream pie, brat tamer Simon & König, pet names, slut shaming in a loving way :] , breeding kink, pet names, choking, bratty reader, oral (m receiving), slight overstimulation

You couldn’t wait for Simon to walk through the door after months out on contract. You were Simon’s fresh air just like he was to you.

Never in a million years would he think he’d get so lucky and get such a good girl wrapped around his arm. Always so caring and loving to a man who’s feared by many.

Since Simon was finally coming home today you put on your prettiest sun dress and soft knee high socks waiting for the lock to hit 5.

Simon hadn’t thought much about what you were up to so it didn’t feel wrong when he invited könig over for a beer without letting you know.

So when you heard the door open you payed no attention to anyone but Simon, running into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Si I missed you so much!” you squealed while peppered kisses all over his face.

Simon tumbled onto the wall by the sheer surprise of your body pressed against his. His hands moving to hold you from the bottom of your ass “Dar- darling” he muttered as he rushed to keep you from slipping.

You didn’t notice the big shadow lingering behind Simon as you buried yourself into Simon’s neck. König’s eyes didn’t miss the slip of your white thin panties that hugged at your puffy cunt.

He closed the door behind him as you clung onto Simon “it seems like Riley got himself a clingy little thing” you heard from behind.

Simon chuckled as you hopped off him and fixed your dress up with a look of embarrassment “I- sorry I didn’t know anyone was joining you” you shakily replied.

You’ve seen König once or twice but this was the first time you really could take him in. Seeing someone taller than Simon was shocking, build and all even being horrifyingly similar.

Simon noticed the way you seemed to shrink into yourself as your eyes darted to Simon then König. He smiled as he ran a hand down your hair.

Having two behemoth men towering you was a intimidating to say the least. “You’ve met konig before love” Simon nodded as he faced you.

You nodded and extended your hand towards König “nice to see you”

König reached for your hand and instead of shaking it, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your palm “nice to see you too” he hummed.

You pulled back slowly and looked back at Simon, to your surprise he was smiling. “Come lovie” Simon cooed, taking his place on the couch as König went to grab a few beers from the fridge.

“Si why didn’t you tell me someone was coming, I thought I’d have you for myself” you pouted and he knew what you meant by the whine in your voiced, he smiled “we don’t take long”

You tensed as the cushion beside you sunk, you heard König groan as he settled beside you. You tried your best not to pay any attention, you had a boyfriend. But simon noticed the way your legs were squeezing together when Konig would shift around beside you.

“fine” you whined as you got up with a bratty pout. Both the men noticed the way you swayed your hips when you got up “Where are you going” Simon cooed “Upstairs since your friend is more important” you hissed.

“A bratty little thing” König chuckled “tell me about it” Simon replied. Both the men gave each other a glare, maybe they should apologize and teach you a lesson all at once.

Simon was a possessive boyfriend but when it came to sharing with his best mate, he had no problem letting you both get a taste of each other because after all, you both mean the world to Simon.

Simon pulled you onto his lap, his hand snaking up to the nape of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. You mewled at the feeling of his cock bulging through his pants, your hips seeming to move on their own as you rubbed against him.

“You wanna let me and König apologize for how inconsiderate we are?” Simon cooed.

Your eyes widened as you looked over at König “I- Simon I-“ you muttered “shh I know, I know. I don’t mind sharing bunny, it’s all up to you” Simon had a smile on his face as you tried to make out if he was playing a joke on you.

You’d never expect Simon to be open to three sum since he was such a possessive man, König was his closest friend but Simon is willing to bend the rules when he’s in charge.

“Yes I want it” you nodded “knew you would, my needy little slut” Simon chuckled as you felt Königs hands snaking up your back.

“Just gotta break you in” König hummed as his hand wrapped around your throat and pinned you onto his chest . You were on Simon’s lap with your back pinned to Königs chest “look at me” König cooed.

“Get a taste” Simon hummed as he turned you around and placed you on Königs lap, letting you both get acquainted. You swayed your hips onto König’s lap causing a moan to escape both your lips. None of you said a word as your lips met, heavy moans spilling into each others mouths.

König smiled as your hands pinned him onto the couch, you seemed to be taking control as you rubbed onto his lap “needy little thing” he smiled as you began to bounce on his lap.

“I know she is” Simon sighed as he pulled your dress over your head. You were grinding onto Königs meaty lap as his hands cupped your tits, his lips pressing soft sloppy kisses onto your plump flesh.

You mewled at the sensation of his hands unclipping your bra. His tongue expertly swirling around your nipples, giving each equal attention.

You were so drunk of pleasure you didn’t notice Simon unbuckling his belt behind you “lay back f’ me” König hummed, both the men manhandling you into their desired position.

Simon settled your head dangling off the large couch as König spread your legs to accommodate his size. “Shh shh honey look at me, not at him” Simon cooed. He held your head back to look at him as you heard König shuffling out of his pants.

“Open” Simon cooed and you did as told. You opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out for Simon, a moan coming from both you as he settles his thick heavy length into your throat.

You held onto Simon’s arms as he thrusted in and out of your warm mouth, his eyes glued onto the bulging in your throat bobbing with each of his thrusts.

“All wet and sticky f’me, isn’t Riley a lucky bastard” König cooed as he nudged his tip into your tight cunt. Your eyes widened as you felt him rubbing between your folds, he was fucking huge.

You tried to moan but the only thing you could get out was gasps and gags as Simon fucked your pretty mouth open. Simon smiled as your eyes rolled back the second you felt König push deep into you.

It felt like you were being stretched open with two men filling you full. One fucking your mouth like a mad man and the other breaking you in for the first time. König was muttering to himself as he slammed into your sticky cunt, each thrust knocking the wind out of you.

You clawed at his arms as he began to drill you onto the couch, his cock nudging perfectly at your g-spot while you sucked Simon off like his own personal pornstar.

“She likes it rough huh?” Köing snickered in awe as he watched the way you took both of them so well. He watched as Simon held his heavy hand to your throat, keeping you in place.

Simon knew köing doesn’t get laid much so why wouldn’t he share his pretty little thing with his best mate? It’s only fair for his best friend and girlfriend to get acquainted.

You gasped as Simon pulled out of your mouth, his hands shifting down to gripping your hair as he knelt down to your face.

“Look at him, don’t be shy lovie. I want you to look at him in the eye- yeahhh just like that” Simon whispered into your ear as köing continued his brutal thrusts.

You stared into Königs eyes, Doe eyed and watery and König was growing overwhelmed with everything you gave him. The pretty moans, Doe eyes, spit dribbling down your chin as he stuffed you full. “That’s it” Simon cooed as he noticed that look on your face.

It was so overwhelming having your boyfriend whispering in your ear while his best friend bottomed you out. You let you a high pitched whine as you came around König, his cock still fucking you through your orgasm.

“A- ah fuck ah-“ König was trying to get his words straight as he felt his cock throbbing against your walls “wh- where do I- fu-“ he panted with your legs now hoisted up against his shoulders.

“In me! I- in me pleaseee” you whined as you managed to get your legs back down to his waist and pushing him against you, caging him in so he could fill you full of his seed.

Königs never came so hard in his life, he was moaning like a mad man as he pumped you full of his loads. His vision turned white as you throbbed against his sensitive and overstimulated cock.

“Forgot to tell you she likes getting bread Kö” Simon chuckled as he stared down at you with admiration.

You were drenched in sweat as his right hand man pulled out of you with traces of his cum buried deep inside you. Just because König fucked you dumb doesn’t mean Simon was going to hold back.

“You made him happy bunny, now it’s my turn”

#cod ghost #cod smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #konig cod #konig x reader #konig smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod x reader

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yoyokalicent · 3 months

Note

BRO WRITE FELIX CRYING BECAUSE HES NEVER BEEN LOVED SO MUCH AND READER COMFORTING HIM

it would so happen after a night at the pub. he's a few drinks deep and looking into your glittery eyes that a few vodka sodas had softened. thinking about how you'd look with a pretty diamond on your left hand and a kid on your hip.

but you're so young, a year younger than him, but still he can't help but think about the way you love him.

thinking about the way his mother absolutely adores the ground you walk on, not just sending gifts for him anymore, but sending you the finest of what she finds. the way venetia talks with you on the daily as if you'd known her your whole life.

thinking about the way no matter how far you and your friends skip away from the pub, you'll always wait for him to catch up so you can throw yourself onto him for the duration of the walk.

he stops thinking about you when you stop to grab at your feet, a signal the night of dancing and standing before him had taken it's toll. and like the nights before he gives you a nod, "go ahead, love."

you hop onto his back with your hands circling around his neck, moving to give him a kiss on the cheek, "love you more than anyone, lex."

the words tinge at his skin, going straight to his head as your lips leave his ear so your head can rest on his shoulder. not thinking anything of his silence.

once you reach his dorm he sets you down with a groan so he can fumble with his keys to get the door open.

after about ten minutes your makeup is messily taken off, clothes strewn everywhere, you're sat up in felix's bed waiting for him.

when you see him, you see him.

his eyes are wet and he's looking at you, no shirt, just his boxers and the socks you gave him after he kept stealing yours.

"what's wrong, baby?" you ask, opening his covers to make room for him.

he sits down and you put the covers on for him, shielding him from the cold, he only weeps more, "i love you."

"oh," you rub your hands over his warm shoulders, "i love you too fi, so much."

"i've never felt this way about someone, you mean the world. i wanna marry you." you can't help but giggle at him, the slurring of words and the way his nose digs into your collarbone.

"we'll have a big wedding it'll have-"

"huge."

"we'll have a huge wedding, invite everyone." you say, hugging him tighter, loving him a little more.

"you'll be the prettiest bride, prettiest mum." his eyes are fluttering, opening and closing slowly as he watches you, "can't wait to put a baby in you."

"can't wait either lex." you respond, allowing him to bathe in all of his dreams that you now share with him.

"gotta sleep first." he mumbles laying his head back onto the pillow, keeping your arms around his waist.

"sweet dreams felix, love you."

"g'night."

#NEED HIM SOOO BAD #felix catton x reader #saltburn #jacob elordi

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cowboycoups · 3 months

Text

What a perv.

Pairing: fem!reader x Dino

Wc. 1.5k

Summary: Your clothes begin to go missing and you go to ask Chan about them - Just to find out that he's been stealing them for his own pleasure.

Warnings: smut!, porn no plot, afab reader, pet names, gendered terms, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, teasing, oral, slight fingering, mention of god (“oh my god”)

Author note: Disappeared for a bit but I'm back!! I've had a fat crush on Dino for a while but the subby Chan fic drought is REAL. I literally can't find any fics for him?! Something about Chan being needy and stuff just gets me kjdfkjs so I decided to just write it myself LOLOL

—

You hop out of bed with the plan of heading out for a cup of coffee and hopefully some breakfast and quickly rush to throw your clothes on to leave before breakfast hours are over. Rummaging through your closet, you look for your favorite sweatshirt.

Over the past few days, you’ve noticed that your clothes have slowly gone missing. First, a sock, which was followed by your shirt shortly, then your favorite sweatshirt, and lastly, your panties.

You didn’t pay much mind to the sudden disappearance of your clothing until your favorite sweatshirt went missing but didn’t begin looking for it until now. You found it odd but just assumed that the washing machine fairy stole them or something.

Five minutes pass and your room becomes a colorful mess of clothes that you’ve thrown around in search of your sweatshirt. Now that you were on the hunt for your missing clothing, it was the only goal you were focused on and completely forgot about why you were even looking to wear it.

After going through your entire closet, you decided that maybe you left it outside on the couch or table and scurried out of your room. You quickly run around your house still in search of your sweatshirt before you stop to grab your hair out of frustration. Where’d it go? You remember washing it, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Hey! Channie! Have you seen my sweatshirt?” You shout out as you slowly walk toward Chan’s room. “Ya know, my favorite o-” You stop in your tracks. Your words are cut off out of surprise by the low grunts and soft moans coming out of his room. Steadily, you walk toward his door which was cracked open. “Chan…?”

His moans begin to get louder as you get closer to his room and you peek in. Your eyes widen and your hands are quick to cover your mouth as you look inside to find Chan holding your missing sweatshirt up to his nose in one hand and your panties wrapped around his cock, which he jerked at in his other. “So that's where they went.” you lean in closer to the door.

You watch as he falls back onto his bed while sniffing your clothing and begins to thrust his hips up and into the air lightly while moaning. “Please… Y/N… please-” he breathily begs out with his body still moving. “Oh, god, I’m gonna, oh my god-” his voice spikes up as you watch him begin to shake. His feet run up and down his sheets before laying flat and curling while he continues to jerk himself off.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His body tenses up and he freezes at your words. He springs up and throws his blanket over himself in a failed attempt to hide what he's been doing and you watch as his face immediately becomes flushed with red out of embarrassment.

“Hey- I- I can explain!” He stutters out before worriedly gritting his teeth together. “This- This isn’t what it looks like I swea-”

You rush toward him and grab him by the jaw with one hand, causing him to almost go limp in your grasp. He felt his heart begin to race further as his body was still stuck frozen. He could feel himself getting harder just from you being so close to him. “What do you think you’re doing?” You shove your thumb into his mouth.

“Nnnghhh!" He gagged as you pushed your thumb down his throat. His cock twitched in anticipation, leaking pre-cum onto the floor. He continued to gag as you played with his tongue, moving your thumb around and teasing him mercilessly. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you smirked as he let out small moans.

The sight of Chan looking so desperate in your grasp caused you to feel yourself get wet, his eyes widening as he looked up and into yours. He couldn't believe he got caught, but he couldn't deny the pleasure that he was experiencing. His cock throbbed, begging for release. “How badly do you want me?” you removed your hand and leaned in closer for a kiss.

He gasped as your hand left him, his body craving more of you. As your lips met him in a forceful kiss, he couldn't help but moan into the kiss. “So, so bad. Please- I need you.” he cried out.

“Oh fuck.." He groaned as you got down on the floor and started sucking him off. It felt amazing, better than anything he'd ever experienced. His hands ran through your hair, pulling gently as he lost himself in the sensation.

You take him in deeper, nearing his base. "God, that feels- so-" His voice was ragged as he tried to catch his breath between pants. He couldn't believe how good it felt, how good you felt, and the way you were taking him deeper with each passing moment.

"Oh fuck- you're amazing..." He arched his back, pushing more of his length into your mouth as he lost control entirely. His hips began to thrust slowly, meeting your sucking motions with force.

You lift your head and hear a pop come from you removing the suction of your mouth from his cock. "No... don't stop… please.." He moaned, his voice muffled slightly by the pleasure. His hands gripped the sheets as he tried to steady himself, his cock still throbbing for release.

“Finish yourself.” You stared up at him.

"I... can't.." He gasped, his body tensing up as he felt the rush of his climax approaching. Heat spread throughout his veins, and he couldn't hold back any longer. You watched as his hips began to thrust into the empty air again.

"Fuck..." With a groan, Chan finally let go, his cum shooting onto his blanket. His body shuddered with the intensity of his orgasm, leaving him panting and weak-kneed.

“Good boy.” You praised with a light smile at the sight of him.

“Thank you..." He whispered, his voice hoarse from pleasure.

“What about you return the favor? You should put that pretty mouth to use.”

“Please…" he panted out, switching places with you unsteadily, and kneeling between your legs. His hands gently parted your folds, revealing your slick entrance. He looked up at you with eagerness before lowering his head to taste you.

With his tongue, he began to explore your folds, tasting every inch of you. His hands gently massaged your thighs, spreading your legs further apart to grant him better access. “Oh my god, you taste so-” he exclaimed with each hurried breath.

You moaned as he continued, causing him to take it as encouragement and push his tongue deeper inside you, finding your sensitive spot and teasing it relentlessly. His fingers found their way back to your clit, rolling it gently between his thumb and middle finger while he continued.

Hearing your moans grow louder and more intense, he knew he was doing all the right things. His movements became faster and more determined, his fingers working in perfect sync with his tongue. “You- You don’t know how bad I needed you-” He continued as he used his other hand to jerk at himself again.

As you neared your climax, he increased the pressure on your sensitive spots. Determined to make you cum, His tongue flicked against your G-spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

Finally, with a loud moan, you climaxed. Your juices flooded his mouth, and he continued to lap at your entrance, savoring the taste of your cum.

As your orgasm subsided, he pulled back gently and stood up before you grabbed his cock and led him back inside.

Biting his lip, he positioned his cock at your entrance and thrust inside you. The feeling of him filling you up sent shivers down your spine as you were still sensitive. “Keep.. keep going..”

“I’ve been thinking about you all week…" he moaned, complying with your request. His hips moved in perfect rhythm with your demands, his cock sliding in and out of your wetness with each thrust.

His thrusts grew harder and faster, pushing deeper into you each time. His hands found their way onto your hips, holding you tightly to move you onto his cock faster. With a moan, he picked up the pace even more, pushing himself deeper into you, his cock stretching you to your limits.

Sweat beaded on your forehead as he continued to pound into you, his breathing ragged in your ear. You could feel the anticipation building once more in the both of you. “Just like that baby…”

“Oh no- Think I'm gonna-" he moaned out with his jaw still hanging. His hips jerked violently against yours as he came inside you, filling you up with his heated cum.

His thrusts grew weak, his orgasm subsiding as he released the last of his cum inside you. He leaned down, kissing you before laying next to you and nuzzling against you gently. “Thank you… so, so much…”

Feeling his cooling cum inside you, you continued to rub yourself with a smirk, the sensation causing you to twitch from the sensitivity as you recovered from the experience. “Whatever pervert.”

#kpop #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt #svt smut #svt imagines #seventeen lee chan #seventeen dino #seventeen imagines #sub!leechan #sub!dino #sub!chan #dino x reader #dino smut

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octuscle · 5 months

Note

My professor is such a pain in the ass! I tried turning him into an average dumb college frat guy, but it’s not working!

Whew! Indeed, your professor is a tough nut to crack. He's as stiff as if he'd swallowed a stick. On time like a Swiss watch. And the strictest teacher imaginable. I'll see what I can do. Time is pressing, it's Friday and the exam period starts on Monday.

07:30. Your professor's shiny Volvo rolls into the faculty parking lot. He's always on time to the second. His suit may be cheap, but it's immaculate. And he walks into the staff room with his hair perfectly parted. No one notices the small tattoo on his forearm.

When he arrives at your lecture, it's like a sensation: he's not wearing polished Oxfords, he's wearing sneakers. Pretty cool, pretty expensive sneakers. And WHITE socks! He's never been seen wearing anything like that before. And you swear his stomach is flatter. Normally his jacket always conceals a tummy bulge. But now his silhouette is perfectly slim. Unfortunately, it doesn't change anything about his lecture. He's way too fast, firing his questions like a sniper in the direction of the students who weren't paying attention. He's a pain in the ass, and that hasn't changed yet.

During the lunch break, the professor is seen wearing jeans for the first time. Pretty crisp fitting jeans. He really has a tight ass. And damn: Does he actually have a beard shadow? Normally he's always perfectly shaved. You're sitting in the canteen with your bruhs when he approaches you and asks "All gud, bruhs? can one of you give me uh fag? I must have forgotten mine at home…" You are far too surprised not to give him a cigarette. "You're such uh lifesaver, dude," says your professor and asks what you're up to this weekend. You tell him about your plans to go to the sports bar, work out in the gym and maybe take a trip to the beach on Sunday. "Sick thing" replies the professor. "See you around, bruhs!" He leaves you with your mouths hanging open.

The professor leaves the parking lot in his open-top Mustang with loud hip-hop music and screeching tires. You grin broadly. Your plan seems to be working. You are sure of it when you meet the next day at the gym. Your professor has a cool haircut, a stylish beard and looks like he's a regular at the tattoo parlor. You greet each other with a fist bump. And when he takes off his sweaty T-shirt after two hours, you say goodbye with a chest bump. Damn, this guy has a killer body.

On the beach, your prof disappears from time to time with random people and goes to the trunk of his Mustang. Shit, he's selling drugs. Hashish or apparently steroids and other stuff. And at sunset you see him lying on his towel smoking pot while one of the musclemen from the gym massages his nipples. Fuck, the boner in his surfer shorts is impressive. You're very pleased with yourself. You don't need to be afraid of tomorrow. It's a good thing you didn't waste the weekend studying.

Hot picture, you think to yourself on Monday morning when you see your professor's latest post on Instagram. And then you read the caption: "Sicc training 2 start the new wk. Now let's go kicc sum student ass. I luv it when i c the airheads sweating over my exam questions"

Pic found @marechais

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #inked man #age reduction #jock tf #nerd to jock

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hcornystoner · 1 year

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...❤️

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tha-wrecka-stow · 8 months

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The Album

The Single(s)

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inoreuct · 6 months

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i just got a brainwave. ZOSAN DANCER AU.

zoro mainly does hip hop, sanji mostly does ballet, they’re both attending this prestigious dance academy; zoro’s a scholarship student and he thinks sanji’s an absolute fucking snob. he can’t stand the prissy rich boy three studios down, golden with all the money from his royal background— he’s a vinsmoke. he’s a prince. it’s right there on the student name list, clear as day.

he’s only seen sanji from afar and yeah, sure, maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to judge but the blond infuriates him with his stupid hair flips and his heart eyes and his mirror-hogging and the way he kneels down to retie the girls’ pointe shoe ribbons for them so that they don’t have to. he’s tall and willowy and strong and fucking talented and every time zoro sees him he wants to kick a hole through the drywall.

now, zoro doesn’t really practice in school often. he enjoys lessons well enough, but he and his crew dance their best in the streets. so when he signs up for a practice slot the one time and gets there (already fifteen minutes late, mind you) just to realise there’s a very familiar annoyance in his studio? he’s pissed. he slams the door open right as sanji executes a spinny jump thing that reaches a frankly ridiculous height, sinking to one knee with his head thrown back, the air ringing after the music’s final crescendo.

zoro doesn’t give a shit. he’s tired and hungry and needs to get his fucking step sequence clean before next week’s dance battle, and thus opens his mouth and shatters right through the thick quiet as he barks, “vinsmoke!”

and he doesn’t know why, but sanji’s gaze flicks to him and he freezes in place. the blond’s expression, just moments ago composed and focused, is dripping with something that zoro can’t quite name, but he has to stop himself from gulping when sanji gets up and beelines straight for him, jabbing a manicured finger right into his sternum without reserve.

“don’t. fucking. call me that,” the blond grits, damn near seething, jaw so tense zoro’s honestly afraid he’ll crack a tooth and it’s almost funny, but he suspects that he really did cross some sort of line, and he might be rough around the edges but he isn’t an ass.

“okay, i’m sorry,” he offers, cautious, hands up in the air. the words taste weird in his mouth, but sanji looks slightly less livid so he counts it as a win. “what do i call you, then?”

the other man looks torn between kicking zoro soundly in the shin (which zoro can already tell would hurt like a bitch) and storming out of the studio, but he huffs loudly and turns away. “black. sanji black.”

zoro hums carefully and slowly inches his way to the corner of the room, setting his duffel down much gentler than he normally does. he should really leave this alone. he has a solo he needs to practice for and dinner to catch after. so what if sanji renounced his supposedly royal last name? it didn't make him any better than every other stuck-up dancer with a superiority complex.

(he decidedly doesn’t leave it alone, because this is the first time that he’s seen cracks in the blond’s porcelain-doll facade, and he can’t help but want to dig his fingertips in and pry. he’s never claimed to have a sense of self-preservation.)

“so…” he starts, facing the barre that he’ll never use and watching sanji through the mirror. “your parents—”

“not my parents, i’m estranged,” sanji cuts in, blunt and terse, emotionless to the point where zoro knows he cares much, much more like he wants to seem like he does.

he watches sanji sit in the middle of the wooden floor and fiddle with the elastics on his weird sock shoe hybrids, going into splits with no apparent effort and pressing his torso flat to the ground. a bright blue eye meets his and zoro looks away sharply, yanking on the zipper of his duffel and grabbing his snapback to pop the closures just to look busy.

…god, fuck, zoro wants to ask so bad. estranged. that word is rapidly reshuffling his worldview regarding the man currently yanking off his knitted leg warmers behind him and tossing them to the side. he wants to know how much of all of it is real; the money, the rumours, the gleaming reputation that surrounds sanji like a shield. he’s their academy’s golden boy and a shoo-in for the principal position at its sister ballet company, once he graduates. zoro had thought of him as an absolute primadonna— put bluntly, a pompous brat. a classic silver spoon child. but even just sitting here and stewing in his thoughts, the ability to cling onto the image he’d admittedly half made up in his head is rapidly slipping away from him.

it’s painfully obvious that sanji can talk the talk and walk the walk. jump the jump? “hey, what was that spinny jump thing you did just now?” jesus christ. zoro winces; his voice is so loud against the silence that he nearly puts his head in his hands.

“mm?” sanji’s voice isn’t even strained as he sits up from where he’d had his face pressed to his knees, forearms around his feet. how a person could even fold that far forward, zoro would never understand.

“the— the jump thing. when i came in.”

“oh, the double entrelacé?”

zoro squints. “the fuck kind of name is ontrolassay?”

“it means interlace in french, you—” the blond seems to struggle with choosing an insult before he finally lands on, “—goonhead. although i wouldn’t expect you to be able to appreciate it.”

the KT tape on zoro’s calf rolls back at the edge as he rubs over it absentmindedly, and he quickly stops. that shit isn’t cheap. but he’s more concerned about why he'd been doing it in the first place, because he only does that when he thinks, and zoro has enough self-awareness to know that when he thinks too hard it usually doesn’t end well. he’s all instinct— and something in the back of his mind is telling him that sanji is tired.

the blond isn’t just a pretty boy with no bite, that much is obvious. but now, with the sky dark outside the full-length windows and the air still and silent, it’s easier for him to see the weariness that sanji hides with all his fawning and flirting and smiles. he eyes the other man in his peripheral and clocks it settled bone-deep in the weight of sanji’s eyelids, the parting of his hair, the curve of his back.

he turns around properly to look at sanji over his shoulder and thinks, ah, fuck it. he’d been late to begin with and he’s spent so long here fiddling with his fucking hat under the guise of doing something important that half of his hour-long slot is gone, anyway. “the crew and i are going for pizza. come with.” a smirk pulls at his mouth as he cocks his head. “or are you gonna die if you eat something other than rabbit food?”

the blond looks up with an arched brow and a scowl. “you fucking wish,” sanji scoffs, but after a moment he gets up and starts tossing things into his bag. “it better be makino’s. arlong’s pizza dough tastes like sardines no matter what you get.”

zoro would have been impressed if sanji knew any neighbourhood pizza places to begin with, but this sounds like he has experience. “of course it’s makino’s, curly. we have standards.”

“i wouldn’t have known,” sanji sniffs delicately. “and curly?”

“yeah.” zoro shrugs, the strap of his bag digging in over his baggy tee as he stands. “your hair, your brows, your spinny jump thing—”

“double entrelacé.”

zoro makes a like i said gesture with his hands, grinning broadly. “spinny jump thing.”

sanji sighs as he tosses his hair out of his face. zoro gets a glimpse of two sapphire eyes, blue as the heart of a flame. “you’re a barbarian.” the blond shoulders him aside and snaps the lights off, pulling the door shut as he fishes out the keys. “and you’re buying.”

zoro hums non-committally and deliberately neglects to mention that makino’s fond of both luffy, his best friend, and luffy’s godfather shanks— which means that the whole crew basically eats free on late weekdays like these. on a side note, shanks has a thing with his own dad, mihawk, but they refuse to admit it. it’s infuriating. maybe he’ll rope sanji into helping to get them together before christmas because he has a bet running with nami and it is not looking good for him.

they walk out into the brisk night air as he flips his snapback onto his head, picking up the pace when he sees sanji shiver. “i drove, c’mon.”

“oh, you’ve been driving,” sanji says airily, raising his brows again as he digs around in his well-loved canvas bag for his cardigan. it’s pink and it’s cashmere, because of course it is. “driving me crazy.”

zoro doesn’t even realise he laughs until after it’s left his mouth and sanji is looking at him with wide eyes, blue, blue and more blue. he clears his throat. “let’s hope i don’t crash, then. did i mention i’m half blind on the left side?”

he cackles as sanji squawks at that, half-terrified and disbelieving, and on the way to makino’s he explains how he’d gotten into a scooter accident with luffy as a kid. (“of course you did,” sanji mutters, rolling his eyes. there’s no malice to it.) his crew’s already waiting for him when they arrive; to his dismay (or is it?), sanji hits it off with them marvellously.

zoro finds out that sanji’s biological family is royal, sure. royal assholes. sanji had run away one day and the bastards hadn’t done a damn thing to make sure he was alright, which, he supposes, made sense considering sanji had literally run away. (he isn't given a reason. he doesn't push.) and yet vinsmoke judge still refuses to let sanji change his name, which means that sanji’s father zeff had never been able to legally adopt him. he pays his own school fees working at zeff’s restaurant; not as a waiter but as a chef, and at this point zoro resigns himself to seeing this guy around a lot more because luffy’s already vibrating with excitement and in this friend group, luffy somehow always gets what he wants. sanji’s in it for the long haul now.

but it doesn’t seem like such a horrible thing anymore. zoro almost feels bad for thinking that sanji had been some kind of spoiled brat the whole time, and isn’t that something? the blond is quick to laugh and hardworking and snarky and proud, yes, but it’s deserved solely based on how much he’s trained to get to where he is— he’s damn good and he knows it, and zoro can appreciate that.

(he takes that last bit and shoves it into a box that he locks up tight and buries deep, deep down. he will Not be thinking about that tonight.)

he’s impressed all over again as he watches the sanji inhale an entire four cheese pizza and five garlic knots to boot, and he laughs when the blond gives him a petulant glare.

“fuck off, marimo, i’ve been training all day. m’fucking starving,” he groans through another mouthful of garlic and cheese, elegantly hiding his mouth behind his hand.

oh, hell no. “marimo?” zoro deadpans. “really?”

“not inaccurate,” nami hums from beside him, and he nearly smacks his forehead to the table. he cannot let these two get along. that would be the beginning of his own personal hell.

it’s too late. “small and green and fluffy,” sanji coos, faux-condescending as he reaches out to pet zoro on the head, and zoro snaps his teeth at slender fingers. he listens to sanji meld effortlessly into his friend group and wonders just what he's gotten himself into.

(there is warmth blooming between his ribs. he knows it will grow no matter what he does.)

they get closer as the weeks go by. zoro learns that sanji hates oregano with more vitriol than should be possible towards a herb. he learns the blond’s favourite brand of dance shoes (he knows that they’re suede slippers now, considering he got beaten over the head with them). he learns that sanji’s left arm never healed completely right from where his oldest brother snapped it when they were children, and he has to dig his nails into his palm so that he doesn’t punch something. sanji drags him into an empty studio one day and tells him to lift his leg as high as he can, which devolves into a stretching session that zoro is more inclined to call torture. sanji is adamant that having at least some degree of flexibility will help him dance more fluidly and loosen up his muscles. zoro tells him to eat shit.

(he goes home, and stretches, and he’s mad as hell because sanji’s right.)

the whole crew goes to the ballet course’s end-of-semester recital and nearly gets kicked out with how loudly they scream when sanji finishes his presentation. zoro throws a rose along with everyone else and pretends that he doesn’t.

(sanji pretends that he doesn’t find the exact one zoro tossed and press it to his nose as he sits in the dressing room backstage, his classmates bustling around him not enough to break his bubble of makeup mirror lighting and silky red petals and the memory of keen grey eyes, watching from the darkness of the audience seats.)

(zoro had been the first one to stand when he’d bowed. he’d cheered the loudest. sanji saw him. sanji heard him.)

zoro doesn't realise how much he talks about sanji until his sister threatens to peel the skin off his face if you don't ask him to come watch nationals, zoro, i swear to all that is unholy— and he shudders. perona is... terrifying. he also loves her terrifyingly much, but that won't stop her from peeling his face off, so he drops sanji a text with the details of the national finals of the dance battle that he was supposed to be training for that fateful day. he's too chickenshit to do anything else. too much of a coward to ask him face-to-face.

they win. their friends and family flood the stage. zoro looks for one face only. he feels a hand on his shoulder, whips around with his heart pounding and oh, he's here. radiant under the stadium lights, hair gleaming like brazened honey, eyes bluer than the sky and his smile even brighter. zoro opens his mouth to say something. anything.

sanji crashes into his arms and kisses him, and he feels like the fucking king of the world.

(the wolf-whistles only register when he realises sanji's legs are wrapped around his hips, his hands beneath strong thighs, but sanji is flushed so brilliantly pink and he looks so happy that zoro doesn't even care. luffy's elbow loops around his neck, nami crashing into his back, usopp coming in fast from the right, and sanji wiggles down to slide his arms around zoro's waist and tuck right up against his side. the trophy shines in his fist as he raises it high above the crowd and his nakama press in tight around him, and zoro screams and cheers with them until his throat goes hoarse.)

(mihawk and shanks get together three days later. sanji and zoro split the money nami begrudgingly forks over and then buy the whole crew pizza.)

#zosan #op zosan #zosan au #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #one piece zosan #one piece zoro #one piece sanji #zoro x sanji #one piece #ino writes #GOD i love dancer aus #can yall tell i was obsessed with the step up franchise at one point

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