#no one can talk to me right now embarrassing for me to become obsessed with this show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ja3hwa · 3 months

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♡ 𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐭.𝟐 | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

【Synopsis】 : The more he tasted you. The more he was becoming obsessed. And he was treading in dangerous waters, no longer caring about the consequences.

『Word count』 : 2.10k

-> Genre: Smut with little plot. Fluffy. DBF au.

Pairing: Dilf!Hongjoong x Park!Reader

[Warnings] : Fingering. Dirty talk. Pet names. Insecurity about sexual experience. Inexperience reader. Kinda late-bloomer reader. Mention of sex. This is filthy… Hongjoong is in his late 30s while the reader is 23. Hongjoong teaches the reader… I was high when I wrote this, so ignore any mistakes. It not my fault.

Note: Part two is done and dusted since you absolute filthy sinners needed more Dilf Hongjoong. Also, special tags to @mingis-prince @trishu-paper209 @itza-meee for asking for a part two. Enjoy ♡♡♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Part One | Buy Me A Ko-Fi

“Aren’t you gonna help me, sir.”

Hongjoong’s brain couldn’t function, let alone take in what you had said. He could feel the way your cunt clenched around his fingers, your gummy walls so warm and welcoming. He could cum again just by the thought. Your hips were rolling, slowly riding his thick digits. He gulped sharply from what he was witnessing. You, Seonghwa’s sweet innocent daughter, riding his fucking fingers like your life depended on it. “Fuck baby, I might just cum right now.”

He felt no shame in spilling his filthy words to you, something about this already felt so dirty so why not just keep adding fuel to the fire? He shuffled back, making sure not to move his hand that was buried between your thick thighs, using his free hand to pull you closer by your waist. You hiccuped out this name, the movement making your whole body tingle. “D-daddy…”

“What did you just say?” You were both shocked, stilling your movements completely you felt a wave of embarrassment. You didn’t mean for it to slip out, truly, but oh did it feel so right. Hongjoong’s eyes darkened, pulling his fingers out of your soaking pussy, he chuckled, manhandling you until you were perfectly perched on his lap. He can feel your slick seeping through your panties, coating his boxers slightly. “Say it again, Angel. Who am I?”

“D-Daddy…” You whimpered feeling so small.

“Fuck.” He tipped his head back for a moment, questioning how the fuck he was going to restrain himself now when you are over here calling him daddy. “Are you tryin’ kill me here angel?”

He looked back in your direction seeing your eyes wide and curious, waiting so patiently for your next instruction. So he kept his right hand on your hip while he snaked the left behind your head, tugging you closer until your lips were only inches from his. You could feel his hot breath tickling your nose, the smell of the whiskey he was drinking earlier tonight with his friends and your father… his best friend. This was so dangerous, a part of you was screaming to back away now before anything else happened. But how could you move away now, when you were so close to finally getting what you always wanted…

When you first met your father's friends, Hongjoong wasn’t there. You met San and his partner Wooyoung. And his younger friends Jongho, Mingi, and Yeosang. And spilt drinks on his army friend Yunho. But Hongjoong… he was a mystery. No one spoke about him or what importance he had. All your father would say was they’ve known each other for a long, long time. But grew apart from the war they both served in and worked. But now he’s back and man photos did not do him justice. He was charming, playful and fucking smoking hot. His tattooed left arm made your head dizzy and when he went swimming you got a front-row show of his amazing body. You became wetter than anyone in that pool, that’s for sure.

“If we do this I won't guarantee I’ll let you go.” Hongjoong’s words were desperate and his heart was aching. He knew this was going to cause a lot of drama and most definitely your father killing him but you are worth it.

“Please Joong…” There it was. The words that started this whole drug trip of a night. Two, breathy, whimpering words. Calling for him. Begging for him. His lips were against yours in seconds, his hand tightly tucked on the back of your neck, making it impossible to slip away. His tongue was relentless, sliding over yours with such power and dominance. Your hands found place on his clothed chest, tangling your fingers in the soft cotton. Your hips began to move again, grinding harshly on this cock. His bulge hitting just the right spot making you squirm. “please, please, please.”

Your chanting against his mouth made him grunt, moving his legs so he could tip you both so you were on your back. Your head would be almost hanging off the end of the bed if Hongjoong hadn’t yanked you by your thighs so you could sprawl in the middle of the double mattress. You watch intensely as he tugged his shirt off, leaving himself in his boxer. You could finally take in the scars he had littered all over his body. Bullet wounds, stab marks. All beautifully painted his body. He had been through war, literally. You could almost forget with how calm his demeanour is twenty-hour-seven. “Can I take these off gorgeous?”

His questions drew you out of your thoughts suddenly, noticing he had his fingers under the hem of your panties. You nodded eagerly feeling yourself tense up. All your previous self-confidence was slowly slipping away... No one has ever seen you naked must less fucked you, and you weren’t about to let Hongjoong find out. The embarrassment you’d feel, being almost twenty-three and still never having sex. Sure you’ve masturbated and used toys but being intimate with someone was unexplored territory. He slipped them off with the help of you lifting your hips. Once they were tossed aside he could take in your spread legs, and glistening sex. God, as if you couldn’t get any more beautiful here you were. “Fuck baby, you gonna let me eat you? Fuck this pretty pussy? You’ll have to be quiet, hmm.”

“Oh god…” You couldn’t help but reel over the idea of his tongue on you. Your body shaking just over the idea. Your breathing became faster, your lungs…tightening. Fuck, why do you feel so dizzy? So…Anxious. Hongjoong noticed almost immediately, hovering over you so he could cup your cheek with his tattooed hand while the other held him up.

“Hey, Hey what’s wrong princess? Talk to me?” There’s the guilt. The sudden twang in his mouth. and As he saw a tear escape from you, he knew he had done something wrong. “Oh, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

His soothing voice was calming, slowly but surely lessening your heart rate. What you didn’t expect was to see tears in his eyes once you opened your own. It went silent, Hongjoong was waiting for you to respond. Your shaky hand glided up his chest before snaking to hold just behind his neck. “No, No. It’s okay keep going.”

He immediately sat up, bringing you with him. He let out a huff, helping you shift yourself until you were comfortable on his lap…again. “No, I need to know what I did.” His voice was firmer this time, authority-like. It reminded you just how different in age you both were. He was in such a different time in his life while you. You were still learning, exploring. You weren’t someone he could possibly want… right?

A thought danced across Hongjoong's mind for a moment and he couldn’t help but feel so stupid. “You’re a virgin…” He said it more like a statement rather than a question. You gulp, shakily nodding your head in shame. Of course, he can tell, he is sixteen years older than you for god sake. “Hey sugar, it’s okay. Theirs nothing wrong with being a virgin.”

“There’s not…” You whimpered against his chest, feeling like such an idiot. You were crying, while naked on the guy you’ve had a crush on since you first saw a picture of him, only to realize that it’s okay that you’ve never had sex.

“No baby. It’s not…” Fuck, I’m gonna scream. Was what he wanted to say. He couldn’t care two shits if you were a virgin for you had slept with unlimited men. Sure, the idea of being your first, showing you what you hadn't experienced yet, and helping you through as many orgasms as he could give you in one night, was the most erotic news. But he cared about you. He didn’t want your first to be quiet, hushed away in a tiny ass room, on a tiny ass bed. No, he wanted your first to be memorable, loud, and fun. He wanted to show you how to make sweet love before pounding your cunt like he fucking hated you. He wouldn’t admit this to him just yet but he had fallen hard, from the moment you stepped out of your car. With a bright loving smile, kind eyes, and a beautiful Sun dress.

You sat up to look at him. Your glassy eyes from crying couldn’t barely see. Vision blurring through tears. He nudged his nose against yours, stroking your hip before sweetly, comfortingly. You inched your lips close until your top lip just grazed his before whispering. “I-I’m a virgin…” you felt like you had to say it, confirm it. His demeanour didn’t alter, or so much as flinch when you finally answered, cause he was telling the truth. He didn’t care how experienced or inexperienced. All he cared about was how you feel.

“Sweet thing…” He murmured but your lips sealed on his. This time the kiss was soft and gentle. His hands tugged against your hips, rocking you slightly backward. You let your body weight fall back, taking Hongjoong with you. Your lips never broke. His hips sat snug against your bare core, only his boxers separating you two. It was moderate at first, just a simple steady pace. But as you left little moans here and there, his speed would pick up. Until he was humping you harshly. His grinds hit your perfectly, feeling the shock of the silky fabric brush roughly against your sensitive clit.

His cock was full hard now, groaning himself at the feeling of you against him. There was something about humping you with a piece of clothing in between so erotic, dirty. He had never felt more like a horny teen than he had now. You had such a hold on him, a way with words. You could do anything to him and he would say thank you. And now he was going to bust a nut in his boxers just from rubbing against you. “Fuck this feels so good baby. I’m gonna cream in my fucking shorts.”

“Fuck, don’t s-say stuff like that.” His words made you clench around nothing, wanting nothing more than his cock inside you. Or even his fingers, at this point either part of him would do.

“Don’t say stuff like that, hmm.” He grunted picking up the pace in his thrusts. “But I can’t it. Not when I have such a gorgeous woman underneath, soaking me with her silk. You wanna come again, baby? Please, come for me, angel.”

His blabbering and whines made you throw your head back in a high-pitched squeak. All your nerves are on fire, feeling like you were an old fuse box crackling over heavy rain. Your eyes, sewn shut and your fingers nails digging into his shoulders. He was so close and he could tell you were too. Lifting up your leg so he hung on a higher part of his waist so he could ground down at the perfect angle, knocking the wind outta you quickly, seeing white.

He stilled, cumming all over himself. Some seeping through the fabric smearing no your inner thighs. You had no feeling in your legs, and your mind was like TV static, fuzzy, tiring. Hongjoong slipped away for a moment, coming back in a fresh new pair of boxers and a clean damp towel in hand. He wiped you all the semen he could, before helping you into a new pair of underwear, tucking you back on your own bed. He kisses your forehead, having drifted off only moments ago.

He knew he wasn’t going to fuck you tonight. But as he slept he thought about ways to make your first time perfect. He would think of a place, and time. Does he take you out to a restaurant or would you prefer home cooked? He would think about how you’d like to be fuck, positions, styles. He was going to definitely fuck you on every surface of his place. And as he snuck off to the bathroom for the fourth time tonight having to adjust or end up fixing, his problem, he knew he was most likely a dead man. And he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

Part Three

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imnameimswrld · 6 days

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. . . ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ¹ ׄ ⑅ MV1 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ in short, you're done standing back when mr verstappen thinks he can push around your boyfriend like he wants.

— PAIRING ੭ max verstappen x gf!reader.

— FILE ੭ imagine.

— DISCLAIMERS ੭ 🔞 mdni, suggestive content, language, light mention of verbal abuse, max's parents are still together and he's dad's a total ass, also (currently) unedited.

❪ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | max verstappen masterlist ❫

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Dinner was going so perfectly; aside from the lovely food, you too indulged in all the hilarious and adorable stories Mrs Verstappen had been so vibrantly been dishing out for you. Max was red in the face with embarrassment, your hand comfortable in his as he caresses it in his lap.

His siblings would join in on the conversation whenever they saw the opportune moment to shut down whatever lie their brother concocted on the spot to try and get himself out of a playful scolding from his mom, and it all just warmed your heart to see how happy he seemed in the moment.

But then, someone just had to speak up from his quiet spot at the head of the table and piss all over his content mood.

"Max, meet me outside for a drink. I'd like to talk to you."

To the ears of a stranger Mr Verstappen's words would sound like a simple request, to which Max could easily decline and just continue sitting in the comfortability of his family. However, you've been around for long enough to recognize that tone; it's no request.

It's an order.

His father stands, wine glass in hand, and steps away without another word as he leaves towards the back door. Once he's gone, a shivering silence settles over the table. His siblings look everywhere but their brother, Mrs Verstappen all but sighs softly and starts to clean up the table, and Max stares done at your hand in his.

"Max," you start, tightening your grip. "Just, stay here," you try, and when he looks up with a small smile that does nothing but claw at your heart, you try another tactic. "Or let's just go home. We can have some ice-cream, watch that weird documentary you're you're obsessed with, I can even-"

"I'll be only a few minutes schatjie, then we can leave, okay ?" he rubs over your hand, probably hoping it would ease your racing your heart.

It doesn't.

"Max," you begin again, hesitant eyes watching as he rises from his chair beside you and gently places your hands in your own lap.

"Help mom clean up, will you please ? I'll be back in a minute love." you want to protest yet again, but nothing comes out of you parted lips when he places a kiss to the crown of your head, before walking away, softly shutting the sliding door to the backyard behind him.

Taking a breath, you try to calm yourself as you stand to help Mrs Verstappen with clearing the table. You try your best to focus on anything else, but knowing that all his father is doing right now is being mean and belittling his son is gnawing at your insides in a way that has molten hot anger simmering in your gut.

Everyone in Max's family are such lovely, kind people – and then you get his poor excuse of a father.

You don't even realise you have the ends of the table cloth balled up in your molded right fists until there's a sharp poke in your ribs. Turning, you gaze meets eyes that so closely resemble Max's, it almost always makes you smile.

"Go." Victoria nods her head towards the back door, and you momentarily look back, before meeting his eyes that match the worry you feel inside.

It's just one word, but it holds all the emotions she's feeling and with hos strong they are, it gives you the green light. With a short nod, you turn on your heel and take long, determined strides towards the glass door.

When you open it, it seems your disrupt the conversion at just the right moment.

"She's going to become a distraction, Max. All you've worked for and currently working towards, is going to be for nothing."

"I sorely disagree, sir."

The two men's heads whirl at the sudden entrance of your voice, and the confidence that colours your face has Max weak in his knees, feeling as if he's falling in love with you all over again.

His father's spine straightens at the sight of you as you join Max by his side, his arm instinctively coming up to rest his hand at the small of your back.

"This conversation does not concern you, Ms L/N."

You hum once with a bitter smile. "From what I heard, Mr Verstappen, it seems as it does."

He locks his jaw, hand tightening around his wine glass so harshly you think it's just seconds from shattering in his hand.

"Max, I've told you to keep this one in check before she-"

"Do not speak of her as if she's not right in front of you, Jos," Max's gaze darkens to the blue of the bottom of the ocean, and it has your insides curling in pride.

He only ever truly gets upset when his father disrespect you, otherwise he just stands quietly to entertain the nonsense coming out of his mouth, knowing he'll soon leave and enjoy all the true love you shower him I'm everyday later.

"And quite frankly, I like my girlfriend exactly how she is," he smirks, fingers massaging the revealing skin of your back from the cropped shirt you were wearing. "Snippy tongue and all."

It's true, you smile; he especially loves it when you have that same tongue down his throat, or wrapped around his cock.

It seems Max has that same thought in mind, because despite his father's furious gaze staring down at him, he can't seem to rid the naughty smirk from hid face, his hand now sliding down to fall into your back pocket.

He squeezes once, and you bite down on your tongue to keep the moan back.

"Now, if you're done trying to convince me what a failed son I am, I'm going to head home with my snippy-tongued girlfriend." he pats your jean-clad ass one softly, before pulling his hand to wrap his arm around your waist.

"Dag Jos. Ik hoop dat ik je blijf irriteren, het is mijn favoriete spel ( Bye Jos. I hope I continue to piss you off, it's my favouritesport !) !" you wave your fingers in an obnoxious manner, smile so sweet you hope it rots every damned tooth in his shitty mouth.

Max's deep, honey-draped chuckle rings in your ear, his voice low in the most pussy-wetting manner. "You know what you speaking Dutch does to me, schatjie."

Batting your eyelashes, you smile. "Oh, ik weet het (Oh, I know)."

A gravely groan resonates from his throat, his bany blues trained down on your glossy lips. "Ik kan niet wachten om je te neuken (I can't wait to fuck you)."

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✍: I might be writing a part 2, but that one will contain smut soooo if you're not into reading that, don't ! ♡ ... but if you arrreeeeee, hehe, stay tuned 🎀.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 fic #mv1 x you #mv1

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wtfsteveharrington · 19 days

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after midnight pt 2 | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: you leave a surprise for carmen at work that lets him know he's been caught watching your content & the aftermath that follows. she/her pronouns used!

contents: perv!carmy, mentions of anxiety, mentions of filming sex tapes, dirty talk, fingering, hand job, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, doesn't pull out (sorry he's possessive idk what to say). he also has this lil god complex over your other subscribers

word count: 4,587k

author notes: i had to cut a lil out bc otherwise this was getting lllooonngg. thank you for all the love on part one & i hope you enjoy this one too!! <33

part one

Carmen wonders what you think of this mysterious new account that keeps donating to you. Sending you small gifts. It's nothing too large - He's not trying to put himself into debt by any means. But it is his way of cosmically balancing the scale of viewing your content without you knowing.

Sometimes he lets his mind wonder and entertains the idea of filming with you. Letting all these losers who sit alone at night watching you get a glimpse of how good he could treat you. Your knees over his shoulders as he folds you in half, harsh and rough strokes pounding in and out of you. Sometimes you get smart with him - It's the nature of the kitchen. He thinks about you in that position whenever you pop off with some snarky remark. Pinned under him, two fingers in your mouth. "Put that pretty mouth to use for me. There you go, Baby." His fingers sliding in further, causing you to gag around them but you reach up to hold his wrist in place to let you know you're good.

He’d fuck you until you can’t think straight, a moaning mess against his fingers as you’re reduced to coming around his cock with no warning. Orgasm shaking through your body and Carmen would just keep fucking into your sensitive body until he can’t take it anymore.

This becomes his new morning routine. Waking up 20 minutes earlier than he really needs to because he just knows he’ll be hard from dreams of you. It’s a bit of an obsession at this point in all honesty but he can’t help himself. He pictures you laid out against his bed sheets, sleepy and grabbing at any inch of him that you can. You’d just be able to relax and get fucked well to start the morning, he’d do all the work for the two of you.

Any mental space not occupied by the restaurant is fully dedicated to you.

———★–————————–

Carmen’s barely awake when he walks into the restaurant. His eyes still feel so heavy and there's a level of exhaustion that he just can't seem to shake in his bones. He's grunting acknowledgment at the team, doing a double take as he catches you grinning wickedly at the board in front of you. There’s a familiar pang of jealousy - What’s got you so entertained this year? He scoffs at his imaginary man he’s made up that’s vying for your attention as he heads into the office to work on this week’s orders.

Except he’s stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of lingerie he just sent you last week folded neatly in the center of the desk. His heart drops to the bottom pit of his stomach as he steps closer and sees a packing order next to the set - His name and address under the billing information circled in a bright neon pink Sharpie. Carmen knows for a fact that he double, triple checked that this was supposed to be a gift and for his information to be excluded so what the fuck happened?

He’s throwing his jacket over the desk just in case someone walks in before he can take care of this situation but he’s got to get a handle on you first. He’s embarrassed at getting caught. Imagining you must think the worst of him. Trying to justify it by at least he was sending you stuff, right? Cotton boy shorts he thought you’d look so delicate in and lacy pieces of barely there bodysuits he wanted to rip apart and leave stained with his cum.

He's storming over to you now, ignoring the way Richie called out his name to join him for a smoke break. You hear him mutter out a "Okay then, Cousin. I'll just go fuck myself." That Carmen doesn't even acknowledge. All his attention fully focused on you. His words are coming off harsh as his body tries to process all the different emotions coursing through his veins.

"We gotta fuckin' talk."

The words hang heavy in the air and you find yourself entertained with how assertive he’s being.

“Why’s that?” You’re looking up at him doe-eyed and innocent. There’s anxiety practically rolling off of Carmy’s body and you’re gonna get to soothing him in a minute but you’re letting him sweat it out first. You didn’t mind that he saw your videos but you were a little pissed he didn’t bring it up. Half because you could have been putting him knowing to use, half because it did feel a little taboo for your boss to be trying to anonymously send you lingerie.

“Nah, don’t play that shit right now. You know why.” His voice is harsh but you know he’s not angry with you. You can smell the combination of cigarettes and spearmint gum on his tongue with how close he is. His cologne comes into the mix and it’s heavenly in all honesty. He’s embarrassed for getting caught, worried he’s gonna lose one of his best chefs, and worried he’s upset you. Someone’s yelling that they need Carmen to sign for a delivery and your time with him is coming to an end for now.

Normally your hand never dips below his shoulders or the top of his chest. Always friendly, light touches. This time your hand comes up to rest flat against his heart and you can feel it quickly beating. “Carmy - Breathe.” Your eyes don’t leave his as your hand slides down his chest, fingers trailing along the soft cotton of his shirt. Stopping only once you can feel the dip of his hip. “We’re okay. Go handle your restaurant, I’ll talk with you tonight.”

You pat the back of your hand against his hip he’s being called for again, feeling a little dizzy under the intensity of his stare. He’s still nervous, knuckles turning white as he keeps a death grip on the line. “Carmen Berzatto, you’re fine. We’re fine. I promise you, okay?” Finally taking pity on him you give a warm smile, stepping back and breaking eye contact. “Go sign for the clams before we have to change tonight’s special and Sydney kills us.”

———————–★–———

Everyone’s long gone by this point of the night. Tina tried to convince Carmen to go home and get some sleep about twenty minutes ago but he made some excuse about wanting to reorganize the walk-in before tomorrow’s service. Really he’s just counting down the minutes until the two of you are alone. You haven’t been able to talk today - Too many listening ears around for Carmen’s comfort. In your defense, you just minded your business and kept on top of your station.

But God he can’t stop admiring you from across the room. There’s less shame to it now that you know. Still anxiety, yes. But your comforting earlier has him… Hopeful? Hopeful for what he’s not sure.

You catch him staring at one point during dinner service, risking a glance around the kitchen and throwing him a wink before turning back to work and deliberately giving him a small shake of your ass. To anyone else it would probably look like you were just swaying mindlessly. Not to Carmen though. You’re teasing him and it’s working.

Tina’s finally shouting out goodbyes and Carmen’s eyes are trained on watching as you walk towards the office. Any pretend task he was doing is quickly forgotten as he intently follows you. He’s played this situation over in his head a dozen times, even burned himself on the cigarette he forgot he was holding earlier.

He finds you standing by the desk, running your fingers along the edge of it and grinning. “What happened to my present, Carmen?”

“Chucked it in my locker. Couldn’t risk someone findin’ them, you know?” It’s embarrassing enough having to answer to you, he couldn’t imagine trying to explain to the staff (or God forbid his sister) why there’s lingerie with his name on the desk. Carmen’s face is overheated and his heart is pounding. For all the hours he’s spent fantasizing about you, he’s never really considered this conversation until today. Typically he skips right towards fucking you however you’ll let him. But now he’s stuck face to face and trying to figure out how to acknowledge his actions.

"You know I, uh -..." He's sputtering out, trying to figure out just how to defend himself, "You're very, very pretty if that means anything. Fuckin' gorgeous, honestly."

"Did you get off watching me?"

There's no going back now.

"Yeah, I did."

You're grinning at him now, stepping closer and Carmen swears the temperature in the room just went up by ten degrees. He's got his eyes trained on your face for the second time tonight. Hunting out exactly how you're feeling. What he doesn't expect is to feel a feather light touch along the waistband of his pants, nails scratching along his skin as you slide two fingers under the fabric. "Did you think about fucking me? Or did you think about me getting on my knees for you more?"

Carmy's starting to wonder if this is real. Maybe another daydream? For the time being he decides to stay with it though. Trying with all his might to sound as confident as he's mentally done so many times having this part of conversation with you in his head before. "Fucking you. Always thought how much better I'd feel for you than those little toys you use. Sometimes -" He takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and trying to build up the confidence to keep this going. He's still not convinced he isn't in some sort of trouble with you. "Sometimes I'd watch you play with your clit. Watch you whine and just knew how badly you needed me to be there."

Your hand slides lower now, fingers pushing through the patch of hair at the base of his cock. Carmen's breathing stops at the touch and you can feel him getting hard under your touch. "Really?" You hum, flattening your hand out and running it down his length. His hips twitch involuntarily as you cup your hand over him, middle finger dragging along his tip. "I've thought about you too, you know? Sometimes you get so fucking pissed off during a rush. I think to myself 'God, he needs to take that anger out' and wonder if fucking me out back would help calm you down. Letting you use me. Sometimes I think you'd walk away after you finish but I know you'd never leave me there all needy and not taken care of, right Carmy?"

He's shaking his head, his heart pounding and he's pretty sure he has never breathed his hard in his life. Labored and uneven while his cock keeps getting hard under your hand. He wants to kiss you, drop to his knees and lick you until you forgive him or decide to take pity and let him fuck you. But instead he settles for showing his need by rocking his hips up against your hand, letting out a broken little groan. "Never would just leave you back there. All I wanna do is - fuck - treat you right. Every night I think about how pretty you must sound begging for me."

You wrap your hand around the base of Carmen's cock, giving him a pleased grin when he fucks himself into your dry fist instantly.

"Do you think you deserve my pussy, Carmy?"

Another jolt of his hips. "No, no I fucking don't."

You lean in, just barely ghosting your lips against his. Carmen has given up all control and allows himself to be fully at your mercy. Your hand pulls back from his cock, sliding out of his pants and he's whining. Shamelessly whining. You're kissing the corner of his mouth, lips traveling down his jaw while you make quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. You grab ahold of his hand, sliding it down the front of your pants and into your underwear. Keeping his hand flat along yours, you use your fingers to navigate his. Rewarding him with a quiet moan right in his ear as the two of you press down against your clit. "I'm so wet for you, Carmy. Been thinking about what you must feel like ever since I caught you watching me." Your hips are rolling down against your hands as you come back up to face him again, bumping your noses together and rewarding him with another moan when Carmen's hand starts to move on its own. Two rough fingers sliding down from your clit to between your folds.

"C'mon, Chef. Want you to fuck me just like you've been dreaming about. Can you be a good boy and do that for me, hmm?"

Something deep in Camren finally snaps and he’s ready to fully earn your praise. One hand comes up to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a deep kiss while the other hand focuses on teasing your clit. His tongue is licking into your mouth at the same time one of his fingers begins to push into you and the combination of sensations is heavenly. You’re moaning into the kiss, both of your hands coming to wrap around his chest so you can begin pressing your fingers into the muscles of his toned back.

He doesn’t let up - Tongue sliding along yours and his fingers messaging the back of your neck while his other hand pulls out of you. You’re whining at the loss as Carmy pulls back, his fingers coming up to lips as he licks you off of them. “Been dreaming about what you taste like.” He looks sinful - Blue eyes staring into your soul as he follows his early fantasy and pops his fingers out of his mouth. Index finger tracing over your bottom lip until you take the hint and let your jaw fall open. Carmen’s fingers slipping in and weighing heavy against your tongue. “Dream about you begging me to come all over this pretty face.”

You start to rub your thighs together as the heat builds in your core, finding yourself getting more desperate as time goes on. Carmen drops to his knees, making quick work of pulling down your jeans and helping you step out of them. He’s making sure you're balanced once again before looking up to realize you’re wearing a pair of the underwear he sent you. Carmy smirks to himself, realizing he’s played right into your little game.

You want to make some cocky remark but suddenly his face is between your thighs and you lose all train of thought. His nose bumps along your covered clit before he licks a strip up the soaked fabric. “Can’t believe how fuckin’ wet you are.” Carmy reaches up to slide the panties down your thighs, taking his time and keeping his eyes looking up at you while he does. You watch as the pair is stuffed into his back pocket and he begins to place open mouth kisses along your inner thigh. Lips exploring closer and closer but always just far enough away from where you need him.

Your hand comes down to lace in his hair, the other one reaching over to try and steady your shaky legs by gripping onto the desk. “Carmy please.” You give his hair a little tug, unsure of his pain tolerance but you’re rewarded with a guttural groan coming from below you.

“Fuck - Pull my hair again.”

So you do, getting a better grip at the base and giving his hair a good pull. You direct his head closer to your center and Carmen lets you until he finds himself buried into your pussy. His tongue lapping over your folds and completing a circuit around your clit before going back down to the base of your hole. He’s moaning your name into you, his hands coming up to grab ahold of your ass. Helping you stay balanced while making sure you can’t get too far away from him.

He’s pretty sure if you say his name again he’s going to come in his pants so he’s putting in as much effort as he can to keep you distracted. Delivered a sharp smack to your ass at the same time he sucks onto your clit. He brings his other hand back between your thighs, tongue still working against your clit while he traces you with his bare fingers.

There’s a finger being pushed into you and you tug on Carmen’s hair once again as he quickly pushes another in, dragging them both along your walls and all he can think is how good you’re going to feel wrapped around his cock. “S’good, Carmy. So fucking good. Jesus Christ.”

Your thighs are clamping around Carmy's head and both of your hands fly to grab a hold of his hair as you feel your orgasm start to build up in your stomach. “Shit! Carmen please!” He doesn’t let up, sucking at your clit while his fingers continue to curl inside of you. No one has been able to make you finish like this before and you’re a mess of gasps and moans and hips jerking involuntarily.

It only takes another minute of him stretching you out and licking you up for your orgasm to hit. A mess of curses and cries falling from your lips as the sensation falls over you. Your legs instantly go weak and Carmen’s quick to grab a hold of your hips to keep you upright.

He’s helping you hop onto the ledge of the desk with a reassuring little “Relax, I got you.” Your thighs are shaking, whole body vibrating and you’re keeping your thighs apart to avoid any pressure on your overstimulated clit. Carmen’s so proud of himself at the sight of you trying to recover. He’s between your knees, pressing down his work pants and his boxers before haphazardly kicking them across the floor. Your eyes drag along his chest, over his tattoos, along the length of him that’s thick and beautiful and ready to be buried inside of you.

His hands find the bottom hem of your shirt, grabbing ahold and pulling it over your head. Your bra follows suit next. Both of your clothing is covering the floor of the office and you can't help but giggle at the mess made in Carmen's otherwise prestigious space. He's letting out a hum of appreciation at the sight of your breasts. Cupping one in each hand and letting his thumb drag across your nipples. "Fuckin' gorgeous. Been wanting to do this for so long."

There's a mouth wrapped around your nipple now, Carmen making quick work of sucking at it. Flicking his tongue across the hard nub. He pulls back, blowing a stream of cool air against your wet skin before switching to your other breast and repeating the process. You get to sit there and savor the feeling, playing with his hair while Carmen takes his time exploring your breasts. When he thinks you're just blissed out enough, he kisses a path up to leave a small hickey onto your soft skin.

You notice, of course you do.

But you don't complain.

Carmen wonders if you'll let him mark you up before you film anymore content. Wonders how many men will realize they don't stand a chance with you anymore and that you belong to him already.

There's another nip being delivered to the skin of your breasts before he comes back up to give you a warm smile.

Carmen’s leaning in to grab ahold of your jaw, kissing you gently while you reach out to grab ahold of him and get rewarded with a moan. Rubbing your thumb across his tip to collect a bit of moisture and lazily jerk him off. He’d be fine with this and nothing else for the rest of the night. Getting you off and finishing wherever you ask him to but he knows that won’t be enough for you. For now he enjoys exploring your mouth. Getting to taste you and he wonders if you’re tasting yourself on his tongue.

You scoot towards the edge of the desk and wrap your free arm around Carmen’s neck. You’re both so hot to the touch. Hearts beating fast, breathing uneven. Needy and unashamed how obsessed with the other you both are. His hands start rubbing up and down your thighs as he gives you a second to recover from your orgasm. He’s got you smiling against his lips as you kiss him, giving a playful nip to his bottom lip. You can’t decide if you want him to use you while you’re still riding the aftershocks or obsessed with how he’s letting you savor the moment.

Once your thighs stop shaking you wrap them around Carmen’s waist, dragging his body closer to yours. He’s chuckling at you, firm hands sliding down to grab at your hips and your ass, whatever he can get a hold of first. “Wanna watch you put me in. You do so good at fucking yourself in your videos, Baby. Wanna see you tease yourself with me instead of those fucking toys.”

You drag the tip of him through your folds, teasing the both of you. Carmy’s giving up every ounce of control in this moment, all given to you. “So big. You’re gonna make me feel so good, Chef.” There’s a sound coming from deep in his chest, “Use my name.” Oh. You nod the best you can while being so close to him, giving a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m so wet for you, Carmy.”

You’re sliding the length of him between your folds again, tapping his head at your own clit before bringing him to settle right against your hole. Your hand comes around to press on his ass, directing him to push in. It’s hard to tell which sound is coming from who but soon the small office is filled with broken moans as he starts to stretch you out.

His first stroke is slow, both of you adjusting to the sensation. He’s sinking in inch by inch, thinking of whatever bullshit nonsense he can to keep himself from instantly busting when he’s barely even inside of you. His brain is glitching, trying to hold onto this one time he walked in on Fak taking a bubble bath to keep his orgasm at bay but at the same time you’re moaning his name and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck and his balls feel so heavy and heavenly resting against you as he bottoms out and -

“Carmen please, please.” Right, focus.

He’s kissing you once again before rolling his hips. There’s his strong arms wrapping around your torso to keep you in place and you feel so warm and safe and full. You decide maybe Carmy deserves a little more shit soon for not burying himself inside of you the second he found your channel. “Gonna take care of you, Honey. Feel’s so good huh? Been dreaming of you wrapped around my cock and it’s so much better than I could have imagined.”

You nod and feel your body going limp, leaning your head down to rest your forehead on his shoulder while he starts to fuck into you. Each time you press a warm, open mouth kiss to his neck his speed picks up. The lewd slapping sound of his cock sliding into your wet pussy combined with his balls slapping against your ass filling the room. He’s bumping his shoulder up against your head, “Look at me? I wanna see your pretty face.”

It takes all the strength left in your body to pick your head back up, “So much better than when I do it myself, Carm. Needed you so bad, so fucking bad.” He grunts, rewarding your praise with a sharp jerk of his hips as he brings his hand down to toy with your still sensitive clit. Your head falls back at the sensation so Carmen brings his free hand to grab your jaw, tilting your head back to look at him. “Eyes on me.” He wants to make some empty threat that he’ll stop fucking you if you look away again but he can’t even pretend to want to step away from this.

His thumb stays on your clit while we keeps fucking into you at a steady pace. His lips ghosting over yours as you both get closer to falling apart. “You can give me another, Baby. Wanna feel you come around me. You can do that for me, yeah? Wanna be good for me don’t you?” Your nails drag along his back and something about the hiss it draws from his lips and the way his pace sputters at the feeling.

You’re a blubbering mess in all honesty. Any facade from your videos of being cool and collected is long gone as Carmen chases your orgasm. Just whimpering out his name and pleas to the best of your ability until there’s one fateful stroke combined with your clit being brushed against that has you coming undone. Nails dragging into his back and he keeps your head in place to watch as your orgasm plays over your features.

Within seconds you feel him start to pull out of you, presumably for his own release. “Please, Carmy. Wanna feel you fill me up.” Remember how Carmen’s become more religious since he started falling for you? In this moment he truly thinks God made you special just for him.

His lips are crashing into yours, sloppy kisses meant for nothing more than to convey need being shared until you feel his body go stiff. Hips jerking on instinct as he fills you deep with cum. One of the thrusts causes some of the liquid, a combination of the both of you, to push out around the base of his cock and he stores that feeling for later. “Fuck you feel so good like this.”

Carmen’s sensitive and getting soft but he can’t help a few more thrusts into your sloppy pussy. Savoring the way he’s been able to claim you as his. There’s a stray thought that he really does want to film with you one night, keep the camera steady on your pretty body as he defiled it.

He stays buried in you, not quite ready to pull out. Carmen’s analyzing your features from this close - The curve of your nose, how well your lashes frame your eyes, the sleepy little content smile on your lips. He’s fascinated by you. The feeling is mutual as you trace over his tattoos, rolling your shoulders back to help relax your body.

The two of you stay like that for a while, both just soaking the other in. You finally look up from his chest to give him a sheepish girl, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. “So - Better than what you imagined?”

Carmen’s laughing, the sound rumbling through his chest and warming up your heart. He looks lighter than he did when he confronted you this morning, a sparkle in his eye even. “Holy fuck, so much better.” You get another kiss from him after the admission, his hands coming down to grip at your ass. “Let's get you cleaned up and I’m bringing you back to my place for the night, yeah?”

It’s your turn to grin, nodding enthusiastically and giving his bicep a squeeze. “Yes, Chef.”

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #♡: carmen berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmy x you

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the0doreslover · 9 months

Text

constellations of the heart | theo nott x fem!reader

Theo hadn’t been able to sleep two things being on his mind, one being the new ink that had been forced onto his arm and two, of course, being you. Over the holidays theo felt as if the only reason he would go back to school was because of you. Now here he was laying down on his bed staring at the picture of you on his bed side table to distract himself from the harsh reality of what he had become.

It started in third year when puberty began and those teenage urges right along with it.

Cedric diggory, everyone had a crush on him so no surprise you were mildly majorly infatuated with him as well. You knew you were done when you found yourself giggling and twirling your hair at something he had said, but when you found yourself following him wherever he went and knowing everything about him, the limit was crossed. You had enough self respect for yourself

if you were going to be obsessed with someone it was going to be a someone who was your boyfriend.

Last trip to hogsmede, you were determined to ask cedric to go with you, you had been practising all morning and though you would never admit it, you had written a love confession.

You were in the abandoned bathrooms upstairs talking to myrtle about cedric (nothing new on her part)

“so if i read him my speech do you think he will say yes”

“i have hope” she says slowly

“not a chance ”

you both looked towards where the voice came, you more embarrassed someone had heard your love confession.

a brunette haired boy came into your vision before walking past you and washing his hands.

“excuse me?” you asked.

“you read him that… and he will sure say yes… to any other girl.

You were in shock literally in shock

“no he looked at me three times today, three is my favourite number it’s a sign” you grinned

“being delusional is a hobby is it?” he laughed before propping himself up onto the sink

“well what do you suggest i do?”

“give me your love confession”

once you made no intention to move he asked again “mate give me your love confession”

you handed it to him and watched him skim over it before laughing.

“okay now give it back”

this time it was him who made no intent to move

you walked towards him and tried reaching for it as he pulled it higher and higher out of your grip

“give me my love confess- speech!” you said again

“okay” he shrugged watching you back down “incendio” he quickly handed it back to you and watched as your features went from annoyed to livid. “sorry my bad i meant to say here you go”

“you burnt my speech!”

“love confession” he corrected you

“speech”

“alright we will go with that, yes i burnt your speech on accident”

“let’s not lie now” you scoffed

“you two are cute, waaaaay cuter than you and cedric” mytrle said from the stalls with her hands under her chin.

“what?” you cleared your throat “i’m gonna go write another love con- SPEECH! i’m going to write another speech”

theodore watched with a smile on his face as you scurried out of there muttering to yourself about how ‘rude and horrible someone can be’

the next day theodore was strolling the halls when he came across a weird sound coming from the bathrooms. He cracked the door open just enough to see you aggressively washing your tear struck face.

“you sound weird when you cry”

you jumped at the sound of his voice and quickly composed yourself

“i don’t want to talk to you”

“why not? i’m great” he laughed

“you’re gonna make me laugh… and i don’t want to laugh right now” you sulked

“okay then, let’s talk about death”

“nott!” you groaned wiping your face.

“why are you crying” he asked

“none of your-”

he interrupted you

“cedric?”

you looked away from him.

a second later he joined you

“he didn’t deserve your love confession anyway”

present

theodore sat up, from his bed pulling himself from the memory of your meeting, he looked to his clock

04:00am

he sighed and pushed his covers off of him. he slipped his shoes on and began walking

you were at the astronomy tower, then again you always were and he knew that.

you were standing next to the railing when you heard someone clear their throat behind you

“theo!” you exclaimed after turning to see where the noise had come from pulling him into a hug you started rambling about how much you had missed him.

he stared at your face the entire time with a smile plastered on his lips

“are you okay?” you asked the boy

he can tell you how he feels now… or he can let you be happy without him ruining you

“im okay” he smiled fondly at you “you look lovely”

“in my pyjamas? you’re funny” you laughed and you both settled into a comfortable silence

He glanced at you, bathed in the soft moonlight, and couldn't help but smile.

"Theo, what are you thinking about?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He chuckled softly, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "Just thinking about how everything seems different when you're here."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, a playful glint in your eyes. "Is that so?"

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the stars above. "Yeah, it's like the universe decided to put on a show just for us."

You chuckled, leaning against the railing. "Well, I can't argue with that."

Theo took a deep breath, his heart racing. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. "You know, there's something I've been wanting to tell you."

Your attention shifted fully to him, curiosity piqued. "Oh? What is it?"

He met your gaze, his eyes sincere. "I've been carrying this feeling for a while now, and I can't hold it back any longer."

Your smile faded slightly as you sensed the gravity of his words. "Theo, what's going on?"

He took a step closer, his voice soft yet unwavering. "I love you, More than I ever thought possible."

Silence hung in the air for a moment, your eyes widening in surprise. "Theo, I..."

He held up a hand, his eyes pleading. "Please, let me finish."

You nodded, allowing him to continue.

"The truth is, I've cared about you for so long that it's become more than friendship," he confessed. "Every time I see you, it's like my world stops and you become the focus."

You blinked, your heart fluttering at his words. "Theo..."

He took another deep breath, his vulnerability on full display. "I understand if you don't feel the same way. I just couldn't keep this to myself any longer."

Your gaze softened, warmth spreading through you. "Theo, you don't have to worry about how I feel."

He looked at you, his eyes searching. "are you saying..."

A gentle smile curved your lips. "Theo, I care about you too. More than I've let on, from the minute you ‘accidentally’ burnt my speech"

Relief flooded over him, and he stepped closer, his hand finding yours. "I'm relieved to hear that."

You chuckled softly, your fingers intertwining with his. "You don't have to hide anything from me."

As the two of you stood beneath the stars, theodore realised he would be okay

#theodore nott #harry potter #hogwarts #fanfic #slytherin #x reader #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson

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becomingmina · 6 months

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You, you silly. smut w/ Bang Chan. 18+only mdni

{Mina's notes: This is my first ever post!!}

Chan is obsessed with your voice, and he knows he has a voice kink.

He knew it the first time you guys had sex and you were begging him to let you come. He keeps playing back the sounds you made in his head – a range of high and low moans, the whining, all the breathy groans and whimpers. He can still remember the image too, of you all naked, tits bouncing, cheeks blushed a shade of dark pink - falling apart underneath him as he thrusted into you. Your eyes were shut tightly but your pretty little mouth was open letting all your moans fall - not even trying to conceal any bit of it.

He finds it extremely hot how loud you get can when you guys fuck at his dorm. It’s a little ego boost knowing his members can hear what’s happening in his room. He sometimes even gets riled up to the thought of them purposely listening to how you are in bed. Surely his members don’t listen right, or do they? Well, Chan noticed all the time Hyunjin’s face and ears was red when he goes out straight to the living room - after ruining you - to discuss what’s for dinner. He couldn’t forget the time Han was flustered when he jokingly asked if he was listening to you guys fucked from the living room. And that one time Changbin was frozen in his track just staring at Chan was digging through the fridge to find a cold bottle of water to give you after your mouth becomes dry from all the screaming. His members don’t listen to you right? And that’s not another one of his kink, right?

Chan realised how much of an animal he can be when it came to you. You were his sweet little innocent girlfriend who could barely keep up with him. Your mind always in its own little world. You would definitely get super embarrassed and probably conceals all your noises from then on if he ever admitted that he loves how vocal you are.

Which is why he’s keeping quiet in this situation.

The two of you were winding down from your busy Friday – your 9-5 wasn’t too bad and Chan’s day at the dance studio with the boys actually went smoothly. You and Chan loved to lay in bed staring at the ceiling talking about everything and anything. It was then that the topic of kinks came up that you confessed to Chan that you can get off to just kissing him. Of course, he didn’t let it go teasing you with kisses all over your face and skin.

“Okay tell me yours,” you asked as you climb on top of your boyfriend cupping his cheeks with your tiny hands. Your legs tangled with his as you try your best to get as close to him as possible.

He just chuckles snaking one arm to your waist as he rested the other underneath his head.

“Please tell me. I already told you mine,” you whined but instead of answering you, he pulls into a kiss. Your lips stay attached for a while - in hopes that it can redirect your attention to something else, but you pulled back first. Something you would never ever do.

“Oh, I thought you loved kissing me, why did you pull away first?” he teased.

“Chan, please tell me or else I’m going to be sad forever,” You whined.

“Give me another kiss first,” he demanded, and you comply - lips finding his again but this time he locked his hand around your neck forcing you there. You try to pull away to get his answer but the way his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, you had to – you had to grant him entry because you loved the way he kisses you.

As Chan continues to tongue fuck your mouth, his hands found their way under your skirt to give your ass a slap earning a muffled moan from you. His smirk is pressed against your lips as his he rubs over the area in attempt to soothe it. The tingling feeling between your thighs begins to rise and you desperately grind down on him, his growing dick hitting your clothed clit. You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan.

This flipped something in Chan and somehow your positions are now swapped - you on your back with your hands pinned above you head.

“Fuck baby, you drive me crazy,” he hiked your skirt up and moved your panties to the side before sliding finger through your already dripping cunt.

“You’re so wet already and just from kissing? You were right, maybe you can cum from just kissing me right, angel?” he teased. His fingers glides through your folds smearing your arousal around before making his way to rub circles on your clit. It had your head spinning – you needed more.

“Mhmm, please Chan, I need you,” you bite down on your bottom lip but not hard enough to try to hide your whimpers.

“What do you want?” Chan asks watching you start squirm and break from his grip under him.

“Need your cock please... inside me,” you answered pushing your hips up onto his hand trying to stimulate your clit even more. He immediately let go of your hands and got off the bed to take off his sweatpants, following by removing his shirt. You also took that time to strip yourself off your own clothes - leaving you all bare. Leaning back on one arm with your legs bend at the knees, your glistening cunt on display for him. Your other hand desperately comes in contact with your boobs, groping and pinching it. You look up at him observing his toned chest before darting your eyes to what you craved the most - his big dick. You noticed the outline of it straining against his tight boxer, begging to be freed. His bottom lip caught between his lips as he watches at the slight of you all horny and already fucked out.

“Can I see it please baby?” You asked politely, never failing announce what you want.

“Because you ask so nicely angel,” He took off his boxer and his dick sprung up slapping against his abdomen. Chan’s big cock never fails to surprise you. No matter how many times you saw, taste or touch it you can’t help but whimper over it. The pretty veins, the grith, the length, the colour. It was so mouth-watering.

Pre cum already coating his tip as you notice a line of it dripping down his shaft. He gripped his base, shutting his eyes trying not to cum there to the sight of you and the noises you were making.

“Chris.” you pleaded, and his eyes opened as he begins to pump himself a couple of times before pushing you on your back again. He hovered over you and placed a kiss to your forehead which resulted in you pulling him closer to you by the back of his neck. Just as you were about to press a kiss onto his lips, he slightly moved his head back causing you to cry.

“Ah why?”.

He didn’t mean to avoid your kiss, he loves it, but he wanted to tease you again just to hear your pretty voice.

Chan brings his hands are back down to your clit slapping it before he danced his fingers to your folds again gathering the juices and lifting his fingers to his mouth. His eyes rolled back at the taste of you.

“Mhmm.. you taste so good. You’re so dirty, my pretty girl. Making me go a little dumb,” he groaned.

He finally lingers over you and positioned himself to your entrance. Normally he kisses you when he pushes himself in. It was something you guys found romantic at the early stages of your relationship, and he decided it was going to be an everyday thing as you were always so bubbly about it. But tonight, he just looked at you and waited. Truth, was he wanted to tease you more, see how whiny you can get just to get riled up by it.

You were too horny and wanted to feel him when you took the initiative to ask him.

“Can you kiss me plea-!!” You let out the loudest pornographic moan as you were caught off guard when your boyfriend snaps his hips into yours. The sudden stretch had your eyes filling with tears. You were feeling lightheaded and already drunk - mumbles of Chris and please leaves your mouth. He waited a few seconds for you to adjust before pulling out and pushing back in your hole harder. Chan needed more – he shifts his position, pulling both your legs to wrap around him in order to penetrate you more. The angle hitting you deeper and hitting you g-spot each time he slams into you. He wanted to see how fast you are falling underneath him but the lewd noises from our mouth along with the way his dick is getting sucked in by your wet cunt is already bringing him to the edge. Shutting his eyes was the only thing keeping him from cumming before you.

“Baby, you’re so tight. It feels so good,” He moaned.

“I’m close,” he admitted, and you also feel yourself reaching your orgasm. You start to clench around him, your hands finding their way to his grip his shoulders pulling him down. You wanted to kiss him while you cum.

“Baby I’m going to cum, kiss me please?” you pleaded big doe eyes filled with tears looking up at him.

“I can’t,” he confessed, and you furrowed your brows in surprised.

“Why?” You cried. He buried his head in your neck as one of his hand slips in between your bodies.

“I want to kiss-“ His fingers latched onto your small bundle of nerves and as begins to rub circles. The contact enough to make you release a high pitched yelp straight into his ears as you squeezed around him - your orgasm showers over you. Chan still eager to permanently record all your pretty moans in his head, he keeps rocking in and out of you, finger still rubbing your swollen clit.

“Baby, can you moan like that for me again,” he confessed in your ears, and you obey, screaming from the overstimulation as you hold onto his head keeping his ear close to your mouth.

“Y/N, I’m cumm-” your cries send Chan into his orgasm as he shoots his hot white seeds right into you. His eyes shut tightly, teeth latching on onto your neck slightly applying pressure and he bits you. You begin to go numb, almost passing out. Your hands slowly letting go of the grip around his head and your eyes start to roll back only ever showing the whites as your let go of another orgasm squeezing out of all his milk.

He finally slows down and halts his fingers as he drops his full body weight on you, his dick softening inside you. Your eyes are shut now, his weight somehow calming you down from your high.

You both stay like this for a few moments catching your breath before Chan’s pulls himself out and rolls over on his back. He moves you on top of him your head laying on his chest and he drapes your right arm over his body. He knows you’re too wrecked and tried to do anything. He presses a kiss on your temple before caressing your side.

“Your pretty voice,” he whispered.

“Hmmm?” You look up to make eye contact with him, brows furrowed before you look from side to side to show case your uncertainty. He just chuckles at your cute reaction of not knowing what he was getting at.

“My kink was your voice baby. I go crazy over the pretty noises you make. The moans, the whimpers, screams, sighs. You never fail to announce what you want, it’s so sexy. All the begging and whining, it makes me go feral,” Chan admitted.

“Why didn’t you just tell me before?” you look up in confusion to ask him.

“I was afraid you might get shy or even embarrassed and stop. Scared you are going to hide them,” Chan’s hand never stops touching you. He wanted to keep you as close as possible afraid of you might pull way to find him weird.

“I would never,” you reassured him. Your arm that was draped his body him made its way up to his cheeks. You pull him towards you to place a kiss on his lips.

“Just like the way you keep kissing me, I’ll keep making pretty noises for you,” you smiled, and he followed with a satisfied chuckle.

He brings you closer into a kiss - allowing you to make out with him and swallow him for as long as you like knowing that’s what you’ve been craving.

“Wait, Chris,” you said amongst the kisses, and he had to pull back to hum at you.

“Wait, how come you didn’t kiss me when I asked you to before. You said you can’t. Chan, that was mean. you’re mean.” you complained brows raising up and down. You only remembered his actions now as you sobered up from his dick.

He cuts you off with a loud laugh knowing how innocent and seriously confused you are at the moment. You have let to caught up with him once again.

“Y/N you, you silly,” he chuckles.

“I couldn’t kiss you because I wanted to hear your voice,” he tells you.

You were quick to bury you face into his chest.

“Okay, now I get it. I’m embarrassed,” you mumbled onto him. He looks down the shakes his head smiling to himself.

“What’s for dinner, Hyunjin?” Chan asks as he walks into the living room.

The 3 boys were all spread out across the living room. Han sitting on his knees on the ground focusing on the television which is muted and on some random kids show. Changbin has a blanket over him as his eyes are glued to his fingers toying with the air conditioner remote. Hyunjin is on the far end of the couch, cheeks bright red as he randomly scrolls through his phone checking his calculator history. His visible boner straining from his grey sweats as he mumble a “let me see what they have on the menu” at Chan.

Chan lets out a laugh clearly seeing how riled they are from your lovely noises.

“Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Chan sweetly calls out to you.

You jumped off the bed pulling out one of Chan’s t shirt and shorts from the draws to chuck on before going out to meet the others.

“Hmm?” you walk up to your boyfriend pulling wrapping your arm around his naked torso, unaware of how the other 3 boys literally scramble their head to avoid you.

“Go choose something to eat on Hyunjin’s phone,” Chan coos at you and you skipped over Hyunjin settling down by his side.

“Hyunjin, can I see what’s the options please,” You lean closer to him to look at his phone, but Hyunjin moves away from you a little. Unaware that he wanted to avoid you, you keep moving closer to him whining whenever you have to keep scooting. It was a few moments then that you noticed how shaky his hands were and that he didn’t even have the ordering app pulled up on his screen. You flick your eyes around accidentally landing on his sweatpants. That’s when you noticed something was twitching in his groin area - making you jump back a bit but you brushed it off as you didn’t want to embarrass him. You sat there in silence, a little bit awkward, for a few seconds before looking up at him, locking eyes, yours pouring into his as you hummed a “Hmm?”

You then hear his breathing get louder and higher than finally catching onto his red cheeks and ear. You were afraid he coming down with something as he is quieter than usual.

“Hyunjin? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You asked innocently at him.

“You, you silly,” Chan laughs.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chang smut #chan smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #han smut #becomingmina #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz imagines

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ebonyslasher · 2 months

Note

Can you do more yandere slashers part 2 please.

Hopefully, I'm getting better at writing yandere characters! There are some possible triggering themes ahead so read with caution.

Roses are red, violets are blue

Here's

Yandere!Slashers Pt. 2!

A strained sob bounced against the dingy walls that you were held captive in. Your existence, normally happy and calm, turned desperate and miserable. You looked around with teary eyes, taking in your unfortunate new home. The air was littered with specks of dust, paint torn from the walls, and all the windows crudely covered and broken. It was a scene taken from a horror movie that you desperately did not want to be in. The tears silently flow down your face before the raggedy door flings open.

A shadowy, foreboding figure stood tall at the door frame. You recognized that figure, it was the one who kidnapped you to this horrid place.

“Please ... .please let me go…,” you whimpered out, your sobbing revitalizing before this monster. He stepped forward and you shrunk back. He stops. The next movement he made your heart stop. Michael flings a body beside you. The patch of light coming from the mostly covered window showed the gouged out eyes of your crush. They lay lifeless and their once beautiful face was now covered with blood.

The image of a dead body, especially of someone you knew, caused you to hyperventilate. Feeling an extreme urge to flee, you stand up and attempt to run towards the door. Michael grabs your arm painfully and throws you down.

“Let me go, let me go! You monster!” you screamed. You attempt to stand again when Michael kicks at your legs. He quickly places his dirty boot on your right leg, right on the tibia. Stomping down, Michael relishes in your painful cry after the sickening snap of your bone. You could not run from him and he could not be happier.

—--

Michael knew everyone who lived in Haddonfield. Most by their identifiable features and home addresses.

Michael stalked all his victims, but only for a short time as their existence would not last long.

However, if he becomes obsessed, not only will he stalk them every single day. He will keep them alive for an undecided amount of time.

As you place your existence in Haddonfield, Michael becomes hooked.

He paid attention to your needs, placing toiletries that you ran out of/low on in various places in your house. It escalates into leisure items that you spoke about with your friends. Things that he knew that you knew you did not purchase

Making himself known, he begins to appear and reappear in different places, from a distance. Toying with you.

Anyone who will get in the way will be removed, permanently. Especially any love interest.

He is not above harming you to make you submit, stay, and be quiet. He knew what was best for you.

Injuries looked especially good on you anyway

“Kitten ... .how disappointing,” Asa remarks, seeing the piss-poor excuse of a Valentine's Day present on his bed. It was made haphazardly, the paper mache butterfly looked tattered with paint, some sort of adhesive, and drenched paper.

Asa had shown you how to do the technique weeks ago, disguising the activity as a fun bonding moment. He made an off-handed comment that a paper mache insect would be a great gift for Valentine’s Day. Of course, his smart little kitty caught the hint. But, it was obvious that you did not practice enough.

You sat upon the bed, head down in embarrassment at the state of your gift. “Asa, I tried! I really did! You know I’m not that good at-” You started to explain. Asa put his hand up and you stopped talking immediately.

“You had ample time to practice, y/n. But, you did not. Therefore, you will be punished. Get on all fours on top of your disaster,” Asa instructed coldly. You did so, feeling humiliated at the action. You desperately wanted to make this up to him while also feeling apprehension at the punishment.

Asa starts to hit your back and ass with his hands. You endure, but the force of his hits ends up making you fall on top of your gift. The burn of his hits combined with the uncomfortable feeling of wet paper and glue slathering your stomach. It made you cry out, strengthening the boner Asa had.

---

Anyone who’s moving, living, or even traveling through the town gets observed by Asa. When you arrive, you capture his interest in ways he never thought possible.

He searched your name, address (and floor plan if available), and knew all your family members. He breaks in to look at everything you have.

He had notes dedicated to what you like to eat, what size of clothes you wear, etc.

Once he captures you, he doesn’t make you a part of his collection. Instead, you'll be his personal pet. A little kitty he can enjoy.

Life was starting to get a little boring. Your existence changed his life. He just needed to train you so you would not be useless to him.

His training includes the way you react (in the way that he likes), enduring physical punishment and sexual sensory overloads, how to care for him correctly, etc.

Any spouse, family, or friends that were living with you are now part of his collection. They would be a distraction to your duties.

If you perform extremely poorly, he will drag you across the floor to see any loved ones in the collection. Digging his fingers into your eyelids to force you to look at their display.

“Dr. Lecter?,” You asked as you knocked lightly on his office door. You let yourself into his practice, as was normal for your appointments.

“Y/N, please come in,” he said smoothly so as to not betray his excitement at your arrival.

You plop down on the sofa across from him and your weekly sessions begin. You’d had them for a month now. It was last week when you noticed that you were getting weirdly attached and attracted to Dr. Hannibal. It wasn’t right with the power dynamics in your current relationship. Also, all the blaring issues he knew about your life. This did not dissuade your budding feelings, with the unintentional help of Hannibal. He did not know that your conflicted romantic feelings were about him. It was like he always knew the right thing to say. He spurred your mind to think outside the box or his perspective. Everything he said, he seemed to always be right about.

“.....I feel a romantic connection to this person, but I know I shouldn’t,” You say.

“And why not?” He questioned

“Our relationship right now…it would be inappropriate to say the least.”

Hannibal leaned forward, his face schooled in its perfect neutral expression. Internally, he was fighting a smirk to bless his sharp features. “And what is love without risk?”

“....I…”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t know, y/n. I am merely throwing out a different perspective. You like this person right? What makes it inappropriate?”

“His…status and title do. The power dynamics would be unequal,” you say, trying to be as vague as possible.

“It will always be unequal. You possess powers that he would not have. And vice versa. Titles mean nothing. You see, I am your psychiatrist. I know who you are, I can see the power that you have. A relationship between you and me would be risky, in the eyes of others. But, only our eyes matter in the end.”

“A relationship between us two…?”

“Just as an example, Y/n. To help you see the big picture.”

You were his patient. He fell in love, becoming obsessed with you. You looked like the perfect partner, one to parade around at the envy of others.

He would make sure to format your mind to see how perfect you two would be. That he would be the only one for you.

Hannibal being Hannibal does this covertly, planting seeds into your head every session. He even stops taking payment for your appointments, to ensure you would still come.

The medication he would prescribe you was a level of biochemical control over your emotions. He knew the side effects and how the medication would affect your mood after you took them.

He acts like the perfect gentleman. He has perused your home, making sure to have items that you need or want coincidentally at appointments.

Anyone who is a threat to you or the budding relationship will be removed.

You will see them for the last time, served as a decadent meal. He will feed them to you, without your knowledge

“Taylor Layknn’s party is in two days, I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your look for you,” Patrick says dismissively. He thrust the outfit into your arms as he checked his phone. You stood flabbergasted at his gall.

“Patrick, I already had an outfit planned out,” you explain. You look over the outfit, trying to imagine how it would look on you.

“Yes I know, but I saw this while shopping and thought about you immediately. I knew it would be flattering on you. It goes with what I’m wearing. We’ll look great together.” Patrick looks straight into your eyes, watching your reaction.

You felt annoyed, a little offended, but flattered that he thought of you. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think that’s exactly my style.” You began to hand the outfit back to him. He thrusts the outfit back against your chest.

“It is your style and you don’t even know it. Here, look at how the color compliments your skin. How it’ll hug your figure in the right places. You know, most of these bitches don’t even know how to dress. You’ll be the talk of the night if you just listen to me.”

He tries to shelter your interactions from others, feeding you lies and pretending like he is giving you inside information to gain your trust

He purposefully talks bad and compassionate about others to uplift himself in your presence, disguising it as competition.

He is always extra with his appearance but was even more so when he knew you were going to be there.

He even wears the cologne that you love. He sends you flowers, your favorite ones, to show how much attention he paid to you

Once he has you wrapped around his finger, He tells you what to say and how to act. He needs you to be the perfect partner that even Paul Allen would be jealous of.

The desperate yuppie that he is needs you to look and act a certain way to fit in with the 'in-group'.

He buys you clothing and expects you to wear it for him. He will send you makeup tutorial videos that he likes.

Patrick will also send photos and videos of people with what he thinks is the ultimate body type. He will do whatever to shape and mold you into his perfect partner.

Patrick has a doll that looks like you in his office drawer. He dresses up in what he would want you to wear. He has another at home where he acts out fantasies of your eventual marriage.

He constantly questions where you are or slyly questions others. He gets mad if he isn’t invited anywhere, especially to his favorite place.

If he could, he dreams of hiring you as his personal assistant (if that was your profession). He has thought many times about firing his current assistant just to have you perched there, sitting pretty.

#slasher x reader #michael myers #asa emory #hannibal lecter #patrick bateman #black reader #michael myers x reader #asa emory x reader #hannibal lector x reader #patrick bateman x reader #yandere

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teamatsumu · 6 months

Text

kinktober 2023 -> day 27

hate sex - kuroo tetsuro x reader

word count: 2100

warnings: swearing, nsfw, reader is yaku’s sister, both of them are kinda assholes but not really lol

kinktober masterlist

Kuroo Tetsuro was a very talented individual. Because no one had the capacity to piss you off quite like he did.

You should’ve known the minute you walked into your biochem class that he would become the bane of your existence. You wished you had gotten some sort of warning when you chose your major. A sign. A whisper from the gods. Anything at all to stop you in your tracks. But no, you were here now, and you were stuck seeing him in class every time.

If only that was where it stopped. But then you discovered that he was on the college volleyball team with your brother Morisuke and apparently, they were thick as thieves. The nightmare just kept getting worse.

It’s not even that he was a jerk to you or he bullied you. You just thought he was too cocky and loud and the smirk he supported was stupid. Unfortunately, the moment he found out that you didn't like him, he made it his mission to annoy the crap out of you any chance he got.

He would make jokes about your height, or how uptight you were. He would call you dumb under his breath if you got something wrong in class, or would snicker when the teacher corrected you. He had a taunting lilt to his voice when he talked to you, like his mere words were making fun of you. It was embarrassing, and it stung a bit, but mostly it served to make you angry. Morisuke would always tell you to let it go. That Kuroo was a provocative and inflammatory person by nature, but at this point even his voice annoyed you.

“What kind of pleasure does this bring you?” You gritted out, refusing to look up at his stupid grin.

“It tingles me just right, sweets.” He replied.

“Ugh.” You made a disgusted face, giving him a look that hopefully communicated that.

“You are gross.” You responded, turning back to your book. “Now can you please leave? I have a quiz I need to study for.”

Kuroo hummed, as if contemplating your request. He leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on its two back legs. They squeaked in the silence of the library, making your cheek twitch.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m waiting for Yaku, remember?”

“And he told you to meet him here?” You didn’t look up at him.

“No, I told him to meet me here.”

You glared at him. “To purposely annoy me? Is that it? Why can’t you just stay away from me?”

He scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweets.”

You turn to him completely this time. “Then what is it, Kuroo? Why the hell are you obsessed with me? How pathetic are you?”

Kuroo stared at you incredulously. “Obsessed with you?”

He leaned forward until his face was inches from yours, eyes narrowed in anger. You nearly reeled back but held yourself in place.

“You’ve got some nerve. Thinking everything is about you. You think I give a single fuck about you? You’re just Yaku’s whiny little sister who thinks the world revolves around her. You’re not worth my time, or anyone else’s. Get your head out of the clouds or you’re going to end up taking a fall you won’t survive.”

You stared at him in shock, watching him gather his bag and water bottle before he stood up and hastily left. You stared at his retreating back, and felt anger burn through you as his words registered in your head.

You ignored the hot tears that stung your eyes.

…………………

The knock on your dorm room door startled you, and you stared at it warily. You contemplated whether you should open it or not. Maybe you could stay quiet and pretend no one was home. You weren't really in any mood to talk to people.

“I know you’re in there. The light is on.”

You nearly groaned, eyes squeezing shut. Anger boiled up in you again, and in a moment of impulse, you rushed to the door, opening it with more force than necessary.

“You've got some nerve.” Your voice shook in anger when you met his golden eyes. “Coming here after the shit you said to me today.”

Kuroo sighed, shoulders slumping. “I came to apologize for that.”

You laughed in disbelief. “What part, Kuroo? Me being whiny or me being pathetic?”

He scowled. “I didn't call you pathetic.”

“You’re getting hung up on the semantics now?!” You shrieked, stepping back to slam the door shut. Kuroo shot his foot out, blocking you from doing so.

“Excuse me? I’m not going to apologize for something I didn't even say!” He stepped inside the room, shutting it behind him so your voices didn't carry into the halls. “In fact, I specifically remember you were the one who called me pathetic. Which you still haven’t apologised for, by the way.”

“Oh my god, I hate you!” You screamed, feeling your face get hot because of how angry you were.

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual!” Kuroo screamed back, stepping forward until he was right in your face. You stiffened at how he was towering over you, his chest heaving and breaths coming heavy and quick. His teeth were clenched, making his jaw tick. Your eyes tracked the movement. You watched a small droplet of sweat run down the side of his face.

You stepped forward until your lips met his.

Kuroo jerked back, looking at you with wide eyes, mouth dropped open in shock. You stared at each other for a few moments, completely silent. Then, the dam broke.

Kuroo grabbed the sides of your face, sealing your lips together in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth, giving him the opening to slide his tongue over yours. You backed up until your legs hit your bed, falling back and Kuroo following you down, not breaking the kiss. Your limbs tangled together in a flurry, attempting to rip each other’s clothes off as quickly as you could.

“Can you hurry?” You broke the kiss, glaring at him as you tugged his shirt off.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” He bit back, pulling your sweatpants off your legs.

His lips met yours in the next moment, effectively silencing you except the little moans leaving your lips. His bare body felt heavenly against yours, and for the first time you thanked the lords that he was an athlete.

He broke the kiss again, making his way down your body with his lips. He bit at your right breast, making your breath stutter.

“Of course you would like that.” He chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up, Kuroo. Don’t ruin this-” You dissolved into a moan when he licked over your nipple, biting at it slightly before sucking. You sighed at the feeling.

His hand groped at your other breast, hips grinding down. His crotch pressed between your legs, and the pressure made you whine.

“Hurry up.” You pushed at his boxers, trying to tug them down.

“Say please~” Kuroo smirked up at you. You nearly slapped him.

“Over my dead body.”

Kuroo sighed and lifted himself off your body. He slid off you slightly, making to stand up. “Well, in that case-”

“No!” You sat up, biting your lip, staring at him. You groaned. “God, I hate you.”

Kuroo chuckled. You gasped when his fingers brushed over your clothed core, before hooking a finger into your panties and pulling them off you. His fingertips dipped into your slit. Your breath stuttered.

“Kuroo.” You stared at him, his eyes dark and pupils dilated. His lips parted, tongue peaking out just a little to run over them. His fingers continued their feather-light touch.

“Please,” you gave in.

“Please what, baby?” You whined at the nickname, feeling your core pulse. God, his voice was so husky. You stared at his lips, eyes wandering to his shoulders, his pecs, his abs, to the bulge in his underwear that was hinting at how big he probably was.

“Touch me, Tetsuro.” You whispered. “Please. Touch me, fuck me. You want me to shut the fuck up? Make it happen, then.”

He was on you the next moment, teeth digging into your skin and fingers burying themselves deep in your pussy. You yelped and moaned, spreading your legs more so he could hit deeper. His fingers were so long and delicious, reaching your spot and rubbing against it just right. Within seconds, he had you seeing stars.

“You’re such a brat.” Kuroo bit out, fingers picking up speed instantly. You could barely breathe. Your body jolted under his movements. He was being so rough. “A spoiled little princess. Greedy girl. You’re even letting me fuck you just so you can get off.”

You cried at Kuroo’s words. Fuck. Why was this turning you on so much? You clenched around his fingers, and were met with the sight of his infamous smirk, except this time, it was so much hotter than any time you had seen it before. Kuroo looked like he was enjoying the crap out of this.

“Oh, you love this, don’t you?” He goaded you, curling his fingers until your back was arching off the bed. “Such a slut. What, you got a humiliation kink or something?”

“I’m gonna cum.” You choked out, tears swimming in your vision as your toes curled.

You should've known. This was Kuroo Tetsuro you were with. There’s no way he would let you have anything good. You nearly wailed when he pulled his fingers out, soaking wet with your juices.

“Kuroo!” You cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Don’t- why?!”

You didn’t even care that he was witnessing you break down over this. You were just about to have what could have been the most intense orgasm of your life and he denied you it.

“You fucking asshole-”

He shushed you, leaning over and shifting slightly. Something hard prodded at your entrance, before sinking into you in one fluid motion. Your mouth dropped open at the feeling, jaw going slack. He was big, long and oh so hard, and he grazed all the right spots as he slid into you.

Kuroo wiped the tears that soaked your cheeks, brushing his nose against yours in a manner that was almost affectionate. You stared up at him, still dizzy from your almost orgasm a few moments ago. His eyes held a glint that told you tonight was going to be brutal in the best way possible.

And you were right. Kuroo fucked you through three orgasms before he even slowed his pace. You were left a blabbering, bumbling mess by the time his hips stuttered and he emptied himself inside you, warm cum washing over your walls, pushing you through one more orgasm as his unrelenting fingers rubbed at your abused, swollen clit. He didn’t care when you whined at him to stop. He was merciless throughout. It was rough and hot and it made you see stars.

You didn’t even register when his body left yours, or when he came back and ran a washcloth over the mess between your legs. You turned on your side, back sore from all the arching. You were still out of breath as he tugged on his clothes, watching him fix his hair. Well, as fixed as his messy hair could get. Aside from the sweat on his face and his slightly heavy breathing, he seemed unfazed. You would think he was out for a run, not rearranging your guts.

You didn’t realize he was staring at you until a few moments later, when he leaned over to brush your hair off your face. His signature smirk spread over his lips.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re the best sex I’ve ever had too.”

You scowled as he straightened up, making his way to the door. “What the hell do you mean ‘too’?

He didn’t answer, humming happily to himself as he tugged his shoes on.

“You aren’t the best sex I’ve ever had.” You sat up, feeling your face turn red. He gave you a look that was so smug it made you stiffen in embarrassment. You knew he didn’t believe a word you just said. You also knew that Kuroo’s already humongous ego was about to shoot through the fucking roof.

“You’re not.” You mumbled. Kuroo pulled the door open, still supporting the insufferable smirk on his face, giving you a teasing wink.

“You’re not, Kuroo!” You called behind him as the door clicked shut. Sighing, you flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and ruminating on everything that had just happened.

Fuck.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

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fatesundress · 7 months

Text

⭑ life of the party. tom riddle x reader

summary. when one game is ruined, another begins.

tags. explicitly fem afab reader, smut with as minimal plot as i can physically allow myself, minors SCRAMMM, loosely implied hogwarts university au as always, flirting via mutually assured jealousy, impeccable communication skills, established relationship, the guy the reader is talking to gets annoyed she doesn’t want him but he doesn’t do anything, religious undertones that might have accidentally become overtones, party setting (background drinking & general degeneracy), probably the meanest tom i’ll ever write and i still tried making him nice because lots of heavy jealousy tropes are misogynistic icks fo me, fingering, piv, a little degradation but that's life, fawwwk the weeknd but the song this is based on is so sexy, etc

note. Me writing this: nightguard: ON, religious themes: RIFE, shame: ABOUNDING. i am so embarrassed by this. have i mentioned smut doesn’t come naturally to me? i don’t even know how i got here. i’m on heelys at the proverbial skatepark and everyone else apprenticed under tony hawk. Do you understand? ok.

word count. 4.5k

request. yes!

He is what he is. Stoic, sacred, silent and then verbose. You knew he had his fixations before you knew him at all — no one made top of every class without a shadow of obsession to contrast the glint of their excellence — but you could not anticipate how that obsession might translate when applied to a person. You’re not sure he had either.

He is what he is. The muggle world taught him religion and in it he learned only the tenor of devotion. When his fingers take your jaw, trace slow at the stripes of your thighs, steady your hips from under you and hold tight, there’s reverence in it. His kisses don’t wane with the months gone by; they soften with purpose. They rouse with hunger. His eyes don’t waver. Should a good man gaze upon his altar? Should he smile like sin when he gets on his knees?

He does.

Tom Riddle is what he is and you solemnise in equal part.

You don’t come to these things often, taken aback by the sight of the Slytherin common room in ribbons and banners tattered within the first hour of the night. Bottles glow green in the lake-light on every available surface, scattered about the place and spilled in sticky puddles.

You’re a wallflower tonight, though not for lack of options. You observe from a comfortable distance the drunken antics of new adults, free to carry their liquor in hand rather than hidden away in pockets and pillowcases. There’s something vaguely entertaining about it, intoxicating where someone else might mind their business and actually get intoxicated, but you see no harm done. Whispers fall on your ears before the rumours make their rounds, couples slink away in the darkness where someone in the crowd might not notice, and the night’s first instance of someone hurrying up the stairs in tears comes barrelling right past you. You invent a story for why to keep yourself busy.

It’s all just buzz.

Now, if you don’t come often, he certainly doesn’t.

Tonight, he has, and for reasons explicable but few, you’ve found yourselves on opposite sides of the room.

It began on the green couch by the window with a chess set spilled across the velvet — a bet you made with him upon arrival; you find wizard’s chess trite, Tom finds it feckless, but it makes for a good challenge.

What else could convince a man so perpetually controlled to pour himself a drink? And you imagine, from his perspective: what else could convince a woman so determined to outwit him?

It’s for no nefarious reason — to slight him or see him stumble — but because you love the fractions of relief that colour him, soften him, temper him. It’s because he loves you in every shade, in every pliancy, in each and every fervour. But mostly it’s because you love kindly to best him, and he loves mirthfully to best you.

So you play. The game is slow and teasing, hard to see in the ripples of the lake, and toppled over in the final moves (which you’ll insist you were winning) by the same swaying body that spills its drink down the front of your dress. And so you’re up, brushing your index finger over the corner of Tom’s sudden scowl. You whisper like a joke not to kill anyone but he’s so quick to look like he might that you consider repeating yourself with more conviction.

You poke at the spot where his jaw is tense. “I’ll be right back.”

Drying liquor from lace is a matter of precision even with magic, and this is half-gelatinous like someone raided the kitchen’s supply of jelly and steeped it in something offensively alcoholic. You utilise the clearer light of the Slytherin girl’s lavatory, wetting your dress before evaporating the water from it. There’s the matter then of transforming the stained fabric back to its original colour, and you huff in the mirror at having a game you thought you didn’t care much for ruined so close to its end.

You care about Tom, though. The omphalos of your issue resides there.

(It is fair to say most of your issues reside there.)

With only minutes gone by, the common room crowd looks doubled when you return, and though you wade through you’re pushed back like debris caught in a tide, the bodies more stubborn rubble than you. So you retreat, stand flush at the wall with your arms crossed, and wait for Tom’s eyes to land on yours. To, perhaps, open your mind and let him in, tell him exhaustedly from afar that the game is at rest and you’re ready to leave.

But even he’s hard to find in the bodies unified in breath, flux like a big set of lungs — and nothing about Tom blurs into the background.

So you wait. You wallflower. You pour yourself a drink.

The moment stretches on longer than anticipated, and after many detached observations of the room, someone else finds you instead. He’s tall, blond to Tom's inkwell black, kissed by summer sun even as autumn soothes its blister. Your gaze wavers back to him a few times though his own is uncertain for all its focus. He seems to be waiting for you to stop, perhaps for the silhouette of someone else to slip by and prove you were looking at them instead. When no one else comes, he traverses the crowd with a straightened inch of pride, stepping through new colours until he’s close enough to you that the light settles emerald-black and you can see the great chasm of his beauty up close.

His freckles are carefully dusted, his structure strong, all squarish, rugged lines and shades of August.

The chasm is not a lack of allure, per se, it’s just a lack of him. One man’s August to your adherent’s December, the intention of his warmth, a thing that does not come to him like everything else but that he makes and makes and mends when it lapses because he does not want to see you cold. The singular reward of a rarity like that.

“Hi," you say, glancing over a broad shoulder.

“Evening," he responds. He takes you in with a look of (unappreciated) appreciation. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t.”

He extends a hand. “Oliver Belby.”

“Pleasure.”

You don't offer much in the way of conversation. He’ll vie for your attention regardless of how much of it you offer. So you lean against the wall where the buzz of sound prickles your hair, let him talk, let his hand come up to rest beside your head, and you find Tom.

He’s right where you left him, a new clearing in the crowd making space for your eyes to meet.

His are ice even at a distance. As if you proselytise — as if you could — kneel for another man or let one kneel before you, all of your trysts together faithless.

They aren’t. He must know they aren’t.

But you put yourself here and standing at the target of his gaze has never been marred by the severity of it.

You decide then; when one game is ruined, another begins.

In truth, you can’t deny the element of theatrics in the way Tom denies everyone but you: his soft, penitent smile, the apologetic cant of his head, how his eyes can find you in any crowd and whoever is clinging onto his every word that night will follow his gaze and deflate when they discover you at the end of it. Sometimes it’s harsh. Final. He lacks the patience of pretence.

Sometimes, the week is dull. Sometimes, the whoever is undeterred. Sometimes you’ve pushed him here.

No — You’ve never done that before. This is new.

So it’s one of those weeks, and one of those whoevers, on an anomaly you may as well have directed the encounter yourself, and Tom is half-indulgent as he forces his eyes away and you force yours to stay.

You watch him from across the room as the woman drapes herself across the arm of his chair. There's a furious blush on her cheeks even in the dark, a pretty disarray to her shoulder-length hair, skirts pleated over knees she faces toward him. She smiles and offers him a glass of something, and you know for certain Tom understands this game because he accepts it, eyes flicking back to you as he swirls the glass in contest.

To that you take an inappreciable sip of your own.

“ — Which is why no one has even attempted to kill one in decades. And capturing one is another thing entirely. My mother works with the Greeks on occasion, and the nearest she came to a den was in the twenties. If she had gone any nearer I wouldn’t be here.”

“Hm?” You look back at the man in front of you. His lips glisten with having licked them between every phrase.

“The manticores,” he says, undeterred.

“Right. Five-X beasts, aren’t they?”

“That’s what I said. I heard from one of my mother’s colleagues that — ”

The woman is whispering something in Tom’s ear, her hair on his cheek. He’s looking at you as if you had said the words. You don't shy away when Oliver leans in to whisper too. It's a strange, fractured language. Too intimate while too detached. Whispers from across the room, desire from another in the place of desire for each other. But the strangeness should not surprise you anymore. This is Tom: beautiful and wicked and the one you chose.

“ — And Nundus are worse. Deadliest creature there is — ”

She’s laughing about something, the woman. Half-reserved, she’s angled toward the party despite her leaning on his shoulder and the dissipating inches of distance.

“ — They stalk in silence. Think of the size of one, right? They’re apex predators… so commanding and still they could be in front of you one instant and gone the next.”

You engage with detached interest. “Really?”

And now Oliver barricades your view, his other hand coming to rest on your other shoulder.

“Do we have any classes together?”

You blink up at him. “No.”

“No, right,” he says, eyes darting to your lips. “I’d remember you.”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you wonder if for some men one-sided discussions of class five beasts qualify as foreplay.

You place a hand on his chest, eyebrows raised and half a startled smile curled.

“You’re not going to kiss me," you inform him.

His face falls, but with it, at least, does his hand.

“Did you hear me?"

“It’s loud,” he decides suddenly. “Can we go somewhere else?”

You’re not sure you believe that.

You duck under an arm and search the crowd again. The woman is on the arm of the chair looking thoroughly dismayed, and for good reason —

Tom is gone.

Your breath is caught.

“This isn’t… You’re not going to…?”

You flash Oliver with a glare. “So you did hear me.”

He makes a pathetically sad face, and you think: it’s a wonder he made it this far when his courtship evidently hinges on the subject of his affection not listening to a word out of his mouth.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” you say tersely.

“What was that for, then?” he asks, and it comes out practically whined.

“That was talking.”

“But you’re —”

“Belby.”

He is what he is. It shouldn’t surprise you when he appears beside you all fatal rage on a quiet lead, narrowly fixed to you.

Tom’s cold is his median temperature, yes, but in moments like this it’s as much for you as his handmade warmth. He’d pluck the fingers off a boy like Oliver. The digits would string eaves like icicles.

Oliver is looking between you and Tom like something terrible has dawned on him, hands urged to his pockets to soothe the flames your unveiled ties to a man seemingly singed him with.

“Riddle — Mate, I didn’t… I didn’t know she was…”

Tom’s voice is flat, edged with something that makes his monotony sound merciful. “Pity. If only you knew as much as you talked.”

Oliver’s mouth opens and closes and opens again, but wisely he settles on silence instead of excuses, and wastes no time fleeing slowly into the crowd.

The instant he's stolen by the wave Tom's eyes are on yours and they’re molten. You move to say something but his patience was for show — he’s dragging you by the arm out of the common room and into one of the dungeon's empty classrooms without giving you the chance.

“Tom —" You start to protest, mouth twisted in a scowl. “Tom, you're being —"

He shuts the door behind you and locks it with such delicacy your breath catches at the question of how badly he's holding himself back right now.

“I'm being what?"

“You're…" It's hard to formulate an answer when he's like this. “It was a game. Don’t pretend you weren’t playing too."

Tom inches in, chest rising with angry breaths. “A game, was it? Did he know that?"

“Did she?” you hiss.

“It certainly became apparent when she was discarded so that I might retrieve you.”

“It was as apparent to Belby, judging by the way he was left gawking.”

“And with great restraint I let him. A mercy I didn’t take his eyes so he was left without the ability.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, now I understand; the problem wasn’t the game, it’s that I played it better than you.”

He looks at you for a long time before casting a silencing charm on the room.

Oh.

Oh — your heart barrels off somewhere. You’re without it for a moment, breathless in the wake of the implication of a spell like that.

“Tom," you say politically, “It was hardly a matter of rescuing.”

He nods imperceptibly. “No, it wasn’t.”

“So we’re in agreement.”

He hums a non-answer.

Each step he takes forward, you take back. It's a peculiar way to have a conversation, but part of the game, you suppose.

Interesting he’s still playing.

You still gasp when you inevitably hit the wall, hands going to the carved edge of a windowsill.

“You’re terrible when you win,” he whispers. His lips brush your ear.

You shudder, mouth dry as you press against his shoulder. “You’re worse when you lose.”

His mouth drags down your jaw but he refuses to kiss you, still withholding something, still holding back in some terrible, electrifying way. Instead one of his hands starts to dip down your side. You shiver as he grazes the skin of your breast, exposed by the cut of your dress, and continues down your waist. His mouth traces your bare shoulder as his tongue makes a slow pass, skin beneath leaping at his careful ministrations.

With long, slender fingers he's pulling your dress off button by button, torturously slow, and you feel mocked to have cleaned it earlier. You feel foolish to have left knowing the night would have ended like this regardless.

“Tom,” you say. His name is followed by staggered breaths. Your fingers are clutching the windowsill.

The air is thick as he watches you, flesh exposed by each undone catch. And still he will not kiss you, even as his lips trail along your collarbone and you start to tug instinctively at his belt. He makes the barest sound of disapproval and spins you to face the window, your hands urged on instinct to press against the glass.

“Tom...”

He hikes your dress up your thighs. It clings to your hips, a meagre two buttons left attached to keep it from falling.

Your wand clatters as his fingers work the clasp of your bra and his teeth skim your shoulder, leaving little bites he laves at softly with his tongue. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction. His touch traverses the shape of you and stops feather-light between your legs.

“Tom —”

“Quiet," he admonishes, a little tut.

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid up your thighs, like he hasn’t done this before, like it’s care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour.

His index draws upon the lace of your underwear and tugs it aside with a tenderness that makes you gasp. Is there a way to press harder to the glass without breaking it? Is there ever enough to grab onto when he gets like this — so singularly focused on ruining you?

One of your hands latches onto the arm half-disappeared in your skirts instead, clinging steadfast to the white of its sleeve, your body swaying as if at sea. He keeps you steady, but this is his crown achievement: that he is all there is that can do it when you’re so singularly focused on being ruined by him.

The sinews of his forearm work imperceptibly under your fingers as he appreciates the newly unfettered flesh, two digits sliding between your legs, and he makes a satisfied sound against your shoulder at the wetness he finds there.

You’re swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realise, and feel like you’re choking when he starts to move, gripping his arm somehow tighter.

As a rule, you know how much he loves this, but it’s tenfold under his jealousy and you think deliriously, probably wrongly, that for how much he enjoys pushing you you enjoy pushing him to get here. You’re his and he’s yours, there’s no doubt in it — but what he can reduce you to — this desperate creature, writhing and panting, trying in vain to satiate herself with a simple finger — this is the translation; the fruition of his fixations put to a person rather than a subject. This is what it is to be his.

Tom’s mouth opens in a smile at your throat, and there it feels more like bared teeth, a smile that is as animal as it is pretty.

And still he whispers with all the affection of a lover, your name peppered between kisses.

His fingers inch inside you and curl. You’re wedged in the perfect balance of his discrepancy; your disciple and your devil. He worships you in white. He ruins you in it too.

Now his name comes out in a babble, wet, half-drooled. A nip pinches the little space beneath your ear and you clutch impossibly harder to his wrist, your free hand squeaking down the window pane as you grind on his palm. He crooks his fingers against a spot that has you seeing stars, thumb pressed to your clit in a subtle motion, and you feel yourself tip off into an unknown he aquaints you with often. In a blurry, flickering moment, the light gleams somewhere beyond the stained hues of the window. And that should be it. The edge is at your heels and you should be falling. But the sinful press of him at your back commands you to lurch against him, and when you moan for more he pulls his fingers free.

You stumble weakly into his chest, startled.

“What… What?”

“Ask me for it,” he says, his voice hoarse, markedly wanton in spite of himself. But there is hunger and there is greed. There’s a sacrificial lamb and there’s a hunted one— there’s religion and there’s Tom. He invents something that demands greater devotion.

And the sound of leather rasping serge and metal clinking metal reels your conscience in. There are no stars. There’s just him. His belt is coming undone.

“Tom.” You swallow. “I told you —”

“And I want you to ask.” He cups your jaw in his hand, thumb tracing your lower lip. “Nicely.”

Your mouth opens for him and you shiver, pressing further back for contact he doesn’t allow. Instead another small tut is whispered at your neck, relinquished to a kiss.

His finger brushes your teeth when you speak. “I want you.”

You feel him shake his head and you all but whine.

“I want you inside, Tom — need you — please.”

“Please?” he echoes mockingly.

“Please,” you say in an uneven voice, and when your tongue grazes his thumb he eases it further into your mouth with an appeased hum.

And so his zipper comes down and you hold your breath with the weight of your dress at your hips.

He pushes inside you with minimal pause, slow still, to relish the way your little pants hitch, stop, and shudder out in a broken moan; the way your breath is guided by his rhythm, how you’re shaped by him, fitted around him. You careen forward and your palms flatten on the window, trembling at the first thrust. Your fingers quiver down the glass.

Tom pulls you into him on the second, patience abandoned. His lips chase your pulse. His grip on your jaw tightens as his thumb pops free with a string of spit. He nudges deeper at a new angle, your body forced as far as it can lean back, gasping heavenward when your head falls helplessly onto his shoulder.

It’s profane. Your ears almost dull to the sound of his hips snapping against yours, the obscenity of your skin on what he offers of his, but you waver between earth and something else, brought back to him by the torturous sight of the edge he stole you from. Always brought back to him.

He’s gripping your jaw in one hand as he pushes deeper, and your fingers are lost for purchase on his forearms, trembling to hold onto something.

When he pulls out of you at your brink again, you practically cry out. But you understand when he spins you around again, hiking you up against the windowsill, your shoulders hitting the cool glass with a gasp you barely register in the fog of your desperation. His eyes are dilated to midnight rings. The weight of his desire is frightening. The insistence to claim you better yet.

He wastes no time before slamming into you again, pausing at the hilt to watch your eyebrows wrench together before resuming his pace. When your mouth falls open, he swallows the noise that tries to come out of it.

It doesn’t feel like a kiss. It feels like the prolusion to a bite.

His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There’s a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear. The vibration of him is everywhere. You’re too hot and it only occurs to you because your fingers are clawing at fabric instead of skin that he’s fully dressed and your last button has finally snapped, lace pooled on the classroom floor as he fucks you. The thought is consigned to oblivion as quickly as it came. It doesn't matter.

You're clutching at his shoulders, the nape of his neck — trying to kiss him back, but you feel torn in two by the intensity of his ministrations, a low, immolating pressure building in your abdomen. He’s proving something with you, and his is a relentless, unending appetite. You don't really stand a chance. You think you've known that from the start.

Tom is all-consuming. Tom is a force of nature, a whirlwind that sweeps over you. He leaves you breathless and somehow needing more as he wraps his hand around the small of your back and seizes you in place.

Still you find yourself wanting to be held tighter.

“T-Tom —" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it. He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. He’s not withholding your release now; he’s spurring you towards it.

When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There’s a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray curls pulled across dark, wicked eyes. The sight of him alone is condemnable, but it isn’t for you.

He likes to watch you like this. When your moans dissolve to the torn syllable of his name, again and again. The veneration. Your choked litanies.

You give them to him.

Sleeves drawn up by your body’s baser instinct for skin, you’ve carved a canvas of praise into his arms, marked up to his elbows where your fingers had jerked upward to rake at his back. This time, when you find the cliffside, nothing stops you from teetering off its edge. Flames dance across your skin in an explosion, your collar damp and bitten, your waist in Tom’s vice-like grip. One hard thrust and you’re falling.

The stars are blinding. You decide then they were made by him.

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, the hard shape of him inside you demanding impossibly for more. You stumble through the light, vision blurred, praying and praying and praying. His grip comes to find your jaw again.

You keen, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddy.

He always comes apart soon after you, but it happens rarely that your body is so taut on the wire of rapture that his twitching inside you takes you with him.

This time it does.

You sink against him, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from his figure and swiping across condensation-foggy glass. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first. It’s slow. It feels like being caught from the last fall. You land in Tom’s arms and they’re holding you through whitened knuckles. His eyelashes flutter, ink-dipped twines of quills, and he steals the shaky sigh from your mouth by pressing it to his.

You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

It’s hard not to fall against the window when he slides out of you. You slump on quivering legs into his chest instead, heaving, spend trickling down your legs.

Tom holds you close, adjusting his trousers before sinking down to settle you on his lap. He wipes the sweat from your face and presses his lips to the feverish skin it plastered. Forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, whispers of your name down your jaw like a prayer answered. Your eyelids flutter shut and he kisses you there, too. His lashes tickle.

You love him more than you worship him. You think he likes that more.

He grabs your forsaken dress from the floor and slips it over your bare shoulders, summoning the snapped button back in place before he begins to meticulously clasp the rest together again. His mouth leaves a path at the skin under each one before it closes, and you hum in dizzy gratitude.

“That was,” you say in a very worn voice, “a terrible way to reinforce not making you jealous.”

He glares at you from one of the lowermost buttons and you giggle sleepily, curling a hand into his hair. “Don’t look at me like that. You liked it too.”

He leans back up at that, tipping your chin with his fingers, gaze darting over the wrecked state of you with a pleased gleam in his eyes. “You liked it? What a modest interpretation.”

Now it’s your turn to glare.

He is what he is — pursuit of buttons forgotten as you’re laid down on the moonlit floor to be reminded just how much you liked it.

taglist. @lyis @indimoss @poddzi @esolean @d1anna @maripositanoctruna @mentally-in-northern-italy @ronniemaximoff1234 @moobell55 @jaerang @ramayantika @saltwaterbythesea @acube07 @togenabi @adazito @kitcat334 @blaurghhh @shutupfinn @jaymeeshayden @lilu842 @leaosee @garfunkelworld @definitely-not-captain-america @multiplefandomstan @mangoesareorange [ note: inexplicably, a bunch of my tags aren't working. i tried to fix it but if you didn’t get a notif i’m sorry! ]

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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reareaotaku · 9 months

Note

Yandere!Ken showing off to Barbie!Reader and letting his guard down only to end up being embarrassed (for something that happened, maybe when Barbie! reader tried to outsmart him) and becoming extra dark and possessive after that!!!

My first Barbie Movie REQUEST!!! [I went a little off track ngl]

Red Faced Loser

Yandere! Ryan! Ken x Fem! Reader Tw: Possessive/Obsessive Ken & Slight Misogyny !!YANDERE THEMES! READ AT OWN RISK!!

Honestly, Ken was always embarrassing himself, but he never felt embarrassed because you never made him feel like that. He could fall on his face or hurt himself or say something stupid and you wouldn't make a fool out of him. Though this time was different.

"Well, women shouldn't be in positions on power-"

"Excuse me?" You turned towards Ken, confused. "Where did that come from."

"Well in the real world-"

"This isn't the real world, it's Barbieland."

"Yeah, about that, um, we're actually changing the name."

"What do you mean? Who's we?"

The other Kens were starting to watch you both argue. Ken could feel his cheeks redden as they watched and you poked his insecurities and inferiority. He didn't want the other Kens to think he was weak.

"Can we not do this here?"

"Do what? We're just talking. Can I not talk now Ken?"

"That's not what I said, but you'd be a lot hotter if you'd shut up."

Your eyes widen and you could feel your face heat up as the anger rose in you, "Who are you talking to?"

He bops your nose as he says, "You." He chuckles at his joke, not taking you seriously.

"I don't know what happened to you when you went to the real world, but I don't like this you."

He frowns, annoyed at your words, "I've changed for the better, Baby. You should get used to it."

"How could you do this Ken? I thought you loved Barbieland. I thought you loved me."

He caresses your face, "I do love you. But you should realize your place is below me, not above me."

"I hate you," You spit in his face, causing some gasps from the other Kens.

"You're just saying that to hurt me."

"You wish." He grabs your hand and pulls you away from the audience. He pushes you into a room and locks it behind you both, What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?"

"Are you serious? You're the one who's lost your mind!"

"I haven't lost my mind. I've been enlightened."

"Enlightened?" You laugh, "Yeah right."

He tilts his head, frowning, "You'll see Y/n. Besides there's no escape, even if you did want it."

"What are you saying?"

"You can say you hate me all you want, but that doesn't mean anything, because I know you don't mean it. You still love me," He then bends down to your level, "And even if you don't, you will."

#yandere ken x reader #ken #ryan ken #ryan gosling #yandere ken #ken x reader #ken barbie #yandere barbie ken #yandere barbie ken x reader #yandere barbie #yandere ryan ken x reader #the barbie movie #barbie movie #barbie 2023 #barbie the movie

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grey342 · 6 months

Text

Teacher's pet

College Professor!Phil x reader

synopsis - Phil notices his favourite student struggling and offers her extra help after class.

warnings - MDNI 18+ content, age gap (reader is 20, Phil is in his late 30s), obsessive! reader, Phil whimpering, riding (kinda) and Oral (f receiving).

authors note - *insert 'Older' by Isabel LaRosa*. I LOVE this one sm! Let me know what your thoughts! Again thank you so much for being patient with me, I love every single one of you <3 P.S- The reader is VERY delusional but lets be fr we all are.

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

You fucked up big time.

At first it was a typical high school girl crush but now you were full blown obsessed with him. Getting jealous whenever he talked to another female student or teacher, waking up at 4 am and getting fully ready for your 8 am class with him and finding any excuse to be close to him at all times.

He wasn't helping either.

It really seemed like he was reciprocating your feelings. Always checking up on you in and outside of class, always making you laugh, smiling at you and winking at you.

You didn't think it would become that big of a problem until your grades started to drop in his class. You were simply getting too distracted.

Like right now, you hadn't even noticed he was going around the class handing out your graded papers.

"F again," he sighs disappointedly, "what's going on honey? You never failed my class before and now you're failing every assignment I give you."

"I don't know Mr Wenneck." You say looking down, avoiding his gaze. You hate disappointing him.

"I do. I know exactly whats going on." He declares. You suck in a breath.

"Yo-You do." You gulp.

"Yep," he pauses, "you're over-complicating the work." You let out a breath of relief.

"Don't worry. This is an easy fix, we'll need to start one on one sessions at the end of the day."

"Oh okay." You squeak, trying to hide your excitement.

"Good. We'll start today, be here by 3:30." He winks and moves onto the person next to you.

When the bell rang, you didn't bother going to your second class. You went straight to your dorm to get ready for later. Hardly containing your eagerness.

...

It's exactly 3:30 when you knock on his door. He beckons you inside and you close the door behind you. Ensuring it's shut tight. This was the first time you would be fully alone together and you wanted no disruptions.

"Ah, right on time. Take a seat and i'll be right with you." He says smiling.

He grabs a few things from his desk and makes his way over to sit right next to you. You inhale and exhale quietly, trying to calm yourself down. But all you can think about is how close he is to you and what would happen if you moved your hand slightly ov-

“So,” he grunts, “let’s start with the first part of the topic and see which parts you’re struggling on the most. Mkay?” He asks.

“Um, yeah okay.” You say trying to sound more confident.

He starts explaining the content to you but all you can focus on is his hands. How big they are, how his veins slightly pop out and how they move when he talks. You were too entranced to notice he asked you a question. He was staring at you awaiting an answer.

"I-um sorry, can you repeat the question?" You spluttered out, slightly embarrassed.

He smirks and looks at you. You look down to avoid eye contact when you feel his hand come under your chin to lift your head up.

“Now honey, there’s no need to be nervous.” He says shaking his head in a comforting manner. You look into his eyes and before you can stop yourself, you lean in and press your lips to his.

You felt him slightly pull back out of shock but, in the same moment he leaned in full accepting the kiss. Your hands in his hair and his on your waist.

You pulled away to catch your breath and the realisation of what you just did slapped you in the face.

“Oh god, Mr Wenneck i’m s-”

“Call me Phil.” He cuts you off and captures your lips passionately. He grabs you and pulls you onto his lap. You grip on to his shirt pulling him impossibly closer. His hands rest on the plump of your ass, slowly guiding you back and forth. He pulls away, you're sharing breaths.

"I knew you felt the same," he lowly whispers, "I could tell. The way you'd get nervous talking to me, the lil' blush on your cheeks when i made eye contact with you." You feel your cheeks burn.

You feel the growing tent in his pants against our core. You gasp in both shock and delight. You look into his lust filled eyes and slowly begin to move back and forth. He lets out a sound of pleasure, you swear it was a whimper.

He leans in and begins to kiss at your jaw and neck, you sigh.

"So pretty.." He mumbles.

You feel his hands creep at the bottom of your shirt, bunching it up insisting he wants it off. You reach down and pull the shirt over your head revealing the lace bra underneath.

"Shit.." He breathes, you feel him grow beneath you. You reach down to unbuckle his belt when he picks you up and slams you on the desk. Emphasising his need for you.

He leans towards your chest and begins to kiss your boobs. His hands meet the waistband of your pants slightly tugging at them. He looks into your eyes and you give him a nod of approval.

He wastes no time in pulling them down along with your panties. He gets down onto his knees and spreads your legs, moaning at the sight in front of him. He moves forward, giving a gentle kiss to your cunt he then licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit.

"Oh god.."

"Not god baby, Phil.." You moan in response.

Slurping your juices like a man starved, his tongue thrusts deeper and deeper inside you. Your fingers gripping onto his hair to keep you grounded.

Without even realising you began to grind against his face, the pleasure taking over you. His lips are glued to your clit, sucking and kissing. His hands grab your legs and pull them over his shoulders, gripping on to your thighs keeping them spread.

"Oh shit Phil, right there.."

"Yeah, you like that?," he breathes heavily, "you like being a dirty lil' slut for your professor, hm?" You nod your head rapidly.

He began to suck harshly on your clit. Your back arches and your toes curl as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

"Fuck! Ye-Yes, right there shit.." Your almost screaming. You open your eyes to look at him, reassuring yourself this is all real and not another dream.

You look down to see him staring right back at you, he winks at you and slides his index and middle finger inside of you. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"I'm gonna cum..." You warn as he pounds his fingers into you whilst sucking your clit.

"Cum for me baby, let go." He hummed.

In that moment you let go, the pleasure crashing over you. He groans against your pussy, not letting one drop of your cum spill.

He pulls your pants back up, puts your shirt back on and looks at you, checking your okay. He helps you stand and hands you your bag. He leans down and kisses you gently.

"Same time tomorrow honey." He smirks leaving you stunned.

You walk out of his classroom with the biggest grin on your face, excited for what tomorrow will bring.

#bradley cooper #bradley cooper x reader #phil wenneck #phil wenneck x reader #the hangover #x reader #smut #teacher crush #hot teacher #teacher x student #campus #classroom

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wifeofsnowbaird · 4 months

Note

can you do a Tom Blyth x reader where they are filming like a romcom or something and they fall in love over the course of filming? i was thinking fluff but i would not be upset if it somehow ended up with some smut in their trailer ;) , just follow your heart!! lots of love ❤️

ofc! I’m absolutely shitty at smut tho i might try with this one but idk so fluff it is❤️ it’s gonna have 3 parts bc it’s definitely gonna need more than a short post!

this first part isnt really when they're filming i just wanted Tom to have a slight crush after seeing ur story and wanted a small scene with Rachel and Josh!

So long I've been out in the rain and snow.

But the winter's come and gone, and a little bird told me so.

Part 1/Part 2/

(Tom Blyth x actress!reader)

summary: you and Tom meet for the first time while Josh is in the middle of the livestream. It's become the new famous ship of the internet.

You were one of the newest actresses in Hollywood and luckily you managed to grab a role with one of the most famous actors right now, Tom Blyth.

Ever since he starred in The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, people have been thirsting for him like he was water.

You wouldn't lie, you were one of them, but you two were supposed to meet in a coffee shop, reciting your lines and you were late.

" Oh you're [Name] [Last name], nice to meet you! Sorry, my friends decided to follow me here. "

Tom grinned, blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight, an apology gleaming in his pupils.

"No worries, it's fine! I'm so sorry I'm late, it was just traffic!"

" Don't worry, I'm just glad you made it!"

You took in a deep breath and extended your arm for a handshake. Surprisingly, he hugged you instead. You met the two 'friends' who are actually fucking Josh Rivera and Rachel Zegler who were seemingly livestreaming on Instagram.

" And here is the new couple! Say hi, you two love birds!"

Tom rolled his eyes before letting you go to tell Josh off.

" We aren't dating, we actually just met."

Josh turned, confused for a second before gazing at Tom's phone that was left on his chair.

"Wait, seriously? Didn't you see a post of her being your new co-star in that rom-com you're doing and started bragging a lot to Rachel and me? What's it?"

He thought for a minute before his eyes lit up and he smiled brightly.

"Oh, yeah! Sweet truth, where a girl had a bunch of exes tell lies and cheat but then finds a man who tells her nothing but the truth?"

Tom hissed and shut Josh up by covering his mouth, before he noticed Rachel leaning toward confused you, beginning to tell you the whole story.

His panicked face turned red.

" So it was a couple weeks ago, we were just calmly hanging out after reshooting some Ballad scenes when Tom showed us your Insta where you were like, I don't know, talking about the movie you're gonna be in! He was literally obsessed, I am not kidding."

She shrugged as Tom glared at her for spilling his secret.

"I'm sorry, I mean you're beautiful and I-"

He cleared his throat, unable to continue because of his embarrassment.

You giggled, shrugging.

" It's cool, I mean I think you're hot-I mean handsome too."

Inside you were literally screaming at yourself for exposing the fact that he's your celebrity crush.

" Uh, guys, I hope this isn't method acting because I'd be really disappointed in you, Tom" Josh snickered, sharing a mischievous glance with Rachel.

Tom rolled his eyes, smiling at you before beckoning to the chair beside him.

" Let's, uh, practice...?"

#tom blyth smut #billy the kid x reader #coryo snow x reader #bosbas #william h bonney x reader #coriolanus snow smut #billy the kid smut #hunger games fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader

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bro-atz · 2 months

Text

safe word: evergreen — ivy

in which: seonghwa wants to try something he's never done before, and luckily for you, you're just the person that can help.

pair: sub!seonghwa/dominatrix!afab!reader

word count: 3.8k

content: smut, reader is (much) older, dominatrix, pegging, brief mommy kink, bdsm, sadism, masochism, toys, spanking, handcuffs, milking, completely consensual!

author's note: so several things: thank you @jeolmeunday for requesting age gap!hwa for the 500 event— i might not have done it for the event, but it definitely inspired me greatly so i just had to do it; i have a dominatrix friend who pegged this guy i was seeing once upon a time and just hearing about it from both sides was so yummy to hear i knew i had to write about it at some point, and i've been obsessed w sub!hwa for far too long now so i just wanted to share the love (-: enjoy y'all

tag list: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis @sinnarols @aaasia111 @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs apply for the permanent taglist here! network: @cromernet part one | part two (coming soon) | part three (coming soon)

Seonghwa was drunkenly babbling to you. His friend and roommate, Hongjoong, had long abandoned him to try his luck with some of the ladies at another table, leaving the pretty wasted man with you. Normally, you would’ve just told him to fuck off and leave you alone with your tequila pineapple, but you decided not to because he was pretty and he only got prettier the redder his face got. Also, he was talking about your favorite subject: sex.

“I mean,” Seonghwa sighed. “I don’t know… I’ve always wanted to try something new.”

“Like what?”

“Uh, well… So… Uh…”

“Spit it out, pretty boy,” you said with a light chuckle but also slight annoyance.

Seonghwa’s face got the tiniest bit redder— he had a serious case of Asian flush, but your compliment enhanced it all the bit more. That, and he was about to admit something completely embarrassing to him.

“I’m like… Not really able to get it up sometimes… So I wanna try out some stuff…” he mumbled, but you were still able to hear him clearly.

“So what you’re saying is that you want to experiment with what turns you on?”

“Yeah.”

“What’ve you discovered so far?”

“So far? Nothing… I haven’t tried anything yet, but I did read that there’s a place in a guy’s butt that usually… It’s supposed to feel good.”

“You want to try anal?” you asked, excitement starting to prick at your nerves.

“Yeah…”

“Now the question becomes do you want to have sex with a guy?”

“I mean, I’m not opposed… But truthfully, anyone will do… Like… P-p-p…” Seonghwa started struggling to actually spit the words out.

“Pegging?”

“Y-yeah…”

Seonghwa was fully embarrassed by that point— he may have been drunk, but he was still revealing his deepest, darkest desires to a random stranger who was totally judging him. But he did not know that you weren’t judging him at all. No, in fact, you were loving every single second of the interaction.

“Tell you what, pretty boy,” you said, making the man blush all over again. “Here’s my card. Call me, and I’ll let you have your first session for free.”

You slipped him your card, winked, then bid adieu to both him and the bartender. Right before you fully left, though, you ran your fingers through his hair, letting your nails lightly graze his scalp before leaving a fluttering kiss on his exposed temple. Seonghwa fully shivered and got slightly turned on, the blood rushing to his pelvis as you whispered in his ear, “I’ll be waiting for that call, pretty boy.”

Seonghwa was crying, but he was anything but upset. He was being degraded by you, and while he was in pain, he wanted more. He wanted more than he was getting with his face pressed into the plush pillow below him, the blindfold over his eyes keeping him in the dark, the tight clamps pinching his nipples until they turned another color, the uncomfortable rubbing and chafing of the handcuffs on his wrists and ankles, and the cock ring squeezing the base of his length with no mercy. He wanted to cry more, feel more violated, feel more degraded.

And you were going to make that happen. You came up from behind him and rubbed your large, thick strap-on along his ass crack while taking his hard on into your hand. You stroked him slowly and hushed him in his ear, the mans cries turning into mere whimpers.

“Pretty boy, what did mommy say?” you whispered into his ear sensually.

“T-to— Hnngh— St-stay quiet…”

“Then why do you keep making noise?”

You slapped his ass with a semi-firm hand, earning a hiccup from him as his body lurched. He quickly clamped his mouth to keep any more incriminating noises from leaving his soul, then choked out quietly, “I’m sorry, mommy.”

“It’s okay, my pretty boy. Just listen to mommy, and she’ll make you feel good.”

Seonghwa managed a weak nod, his lower lip quivering with excitement. His toes curled when your nails grazed the tip of his cock, and his back arched when he felt you squirt cold lube all over his ass, the strap-on now gliding along his asscrack.

With the assistance of the lube, you sank two fingers into Seonghwa’s tight, little hole. You widened his hole, your fingers spreading inside him as you prepared him for the monster cock you were about to sink into him. Seonghwa bit down on his lower lip hard the more you spread his hole. He relaxed slightly when you withdrew your fingers, giving you the perfect opportunity to shove the strap-on into his pretty little asshole. A loud gasp escaped Seonghwa’s mouth when he felt the cock shove all the way in him, the sound of the slap of your waist against his ass overpowering his noises.

Tears streamed down Seonghwa’s face as he choked back the accumulating moans that accompanied your rough thrusts, and he felt his orgasm building the more the cock moved in and out. It was when you rubbed against his prostate did the man…

Wake up.

Seonghwa blinked sleep out of his eyes as the effects of the dream slipped away from him, confusion filling his brain instead of the horny hormones that once rampaged it. Realization hit him a couple of minutes after he woke up and laid in bed, and with great hesitation, Seonghwa lifted his duvet to confirm the worst.

He had a wet dream. At his age, Seonghwa had a wet dream, and he had a wet dream about the stranger, the woman he met at the bar the previous night.

Luckily for Seonghwa, after he fully awoke, he saw Hongjoong in the kitchen nursing his own hangover, and he saw the business card on the kitchen island.

“Hey, uh, Joong?” Seonghwa asked. “Where’d this come from?”

“Fuck if I know, man,” Hongjoong groaned. “You’re the one that brought it home.”

“I did?” Seonghwa mumbled half to himself.

He picked up the card and saw only two things on the card: your phone number, and a singular word: EVERGREEN.

To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Seonghwa was practically neurotic. He had called your number and asked to meet with you, and you chose the coffee shop he was sitting in. He got there well ahead of time, definitely adding to his anxiety as he patiently waited for you in silent fear.

Then, you arrived. Seonghwa’s drunken memory didn’t do you justice. You were so fucking gorgeous compared to what his blurry eyes showed him the night he met you. He couldn’t remember what you were wearing that night, but that day, in front of him, you were wearing a grey pencil skirt, a black top with a low cut, and black, knee high boots that made Seonghwa nearly drool, accentuating your body with a beautiful flourish. And when you brought that beautiful body closer to the sitting man with a cup of coffee in hand, he nearly lost his sanity.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you greeted— making him blush furiously— and took a seat in front of him. “I was glad to hear from you.”

“Y-yeah?” Seonghwa nearly bit his tongue, and that too for a word with only one syllable and no harsh noises.

“Yeah. You’re super cute, you know that?”

You didn’t think it was possible, but Seonghwa blushed harder. Clearing his throat, he tried to thwart your very well deserved compliments.

“S-so, your business card…” he started.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“You’re a… A…”

Seonghwa couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence— he didn’t realize he would have such a hard time saying the word in public.

“A dominatrix? Well, by night, yes. By day, I’m a broker.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but you were impressing him even more with each revealed detail about you.

“Wow…” he breathed out.

“And you’re a singer, right? I think that’s what you told me the other night.”

“Y-yeah, I am.”

“That’s cool,” you nodded and took a sip of your coffee. “Impressive.”

“Th-thank you…”

Not once in his life was he ever this flustered, and it was really getting to him to the point where he could feel himself actually starting to get turned on with just the tiniest amount of praise from someone as beautiful and spectacular as you.

“So, sweetie,” you started explaining. “Here’s the deal. Like I said, your first one is on the house, so you just let me know when—”

“Now,” Seonghwa interrupted, surprising both you and himself.

“Now?!” you choked on your coffee then started laughing. “You’re so eager, aren’t you, pretty boy?”

“I— I mean— I just—”

“You’re so cute, oh God, I just wanna stick you in my pocket,” you continued to giggle. “But, right now, I’m actually on my lunch break. I’ll just text you the address and time. Tonight okay?”

“Yes, please,” Seonghwa replied quickly— the bulge in his pants was only getting tighter.

“Alright, pretty boy. I’ll see you tonight.”

With that, you got up and waved at him slightly before sashaying out of the cafe, making Seonghwa fall in love with even the way you leave. He was smitten, honestly.

Seonghwa didn’t mean to be early, so he waited in his car until it was about two minutes before your agreed upon time. He was nervous, but excited, and all of the emotions swirling in his brain and body was making him either want to fall over or… Fall over. He was seriously losing it.

He waited for almost thirty seconds after ringing the doorbell for you to answer the door— not that he was counting. And the second the door opened, Seonghwa’s jaw dropped to the fucking floor.

Standing before him was you wearing platform heel boots that were even sexier than the ones you had on earlier that day, fishnet stockings, a leather corset that made your bosom pop and shine, and your hair up in a slick, tight ponytail while wielding a riding crop.

“You’re starting to catch flies, pretty boy,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Come in.”

Seonghwa, doing his very best, snapped out of it and walked into the apartment. You led him to the bedroom— not to be mistaken with your bedroom— with your entire set up. The room was filled with red and purple lights, a black steel frame bed with a canopy and handcuffs all over the frame. Also attached to the frame was a swing, and any flat ledge was decorated with candles. Various toys of various sizes for all genders were lined up on the wall, and Seonghwa couldn’t help but stare at all of them because, dear God, you had so many. And in the corner of the room was another door to the bathroom.

“Alright, pretty boy,” you walked up right behind Seonghwa and whispered, your lips near his ear, your voice sensual as fuck. “So what I want you to do is go to the bathroom right over there, wash up completely, dry up, and come back here completely naked. Sound good?”

“Y-yes… Um…” Seonghwa audibly struggled— he didn’t know how to refer to you.

“You can call me whatever you’d like, sweetie, since it’s your first time and all.”

“…Ma’am?”

“Whatever tickles your fancy, love.”

With a beet red face, Seonghwa nodded and made his way to the bathroom. He did exactly as you asked, and maybe a little more, before returning to the room to see you sitting on the bed with your legs crossed and your riding crop in hand looking ready to punish. Seonghwa’s dick twitched upon the sight, his body flushing with warmth as he started to get turned on.

“Perfect,” you said as you laid eyes on the beautiful, naked man. “Sit.”

Seonghwa was about to sit on the bed next to you, but immediately stopped when you slapped his thigh with the riding crop.

“On the ground,” you said with the slightest bit of annoyance.

Quickly obeying, Seonghwa knelt before you, his hands on his knees. You took the riding crop and placed it right under his chin, bringing his head up so he would look right at you. You ran it along his jaw and gave him a small smile, a red blush covering his cheeks and nose as you stared him down.

“Let me go over some ground rules for today’s session,” you started. “I’m going to be very tame with you, meaning I won’t call you names, I won’t actually inflict pain— I just want you to get a feel for this because if this isn’t your thing, I don’t want to push you too far. With me so far?”

The man responded with a singular nod.

“The safe word is evergreen. It will always and forever be evergreen, okay?”

Another nod.

“We’ll start simple today. You wanted someone to peg you, right? We’ll do that.”

“U-um, ma’am?

“Yes, Seonghwa?”

That was the first time you uttered his name and didn’t call him a nickname— Seonghwa was smitten all over again, and he began blushing like crazy.

“C-could you also, um…” he mumbled.

“Speak louder, sweetie. What do you want?”

“Could you also spank me?” he asked with a little more confidence.

“Of course, pretty boy,” you couldn’t help but giggle. “Anything you want.”

“A-and! And could you maybe… Handcuff me?”

“Okay, how about you tell me what you don’t want to do.”

“I want to do it all.”

You laughed loudly— Seonghwa’s enthusiasm was refreshing and honestly super cute. He was staring up at you with the biggest, most sparkly eyes, and it took everything in you to keep yourself from grabbing his beautiful face and leaving kisses all over it.

Seonghwa, meanwhile, was even more infatuated with you and your style and your laugh— the more he got to know you, the more in love he fell.

“I’ll only do so much today, okay? Alright, pretty boy. Get up, stand right here, and bend over.”

You got off the bed and gestured for him to replace your spot. Doing exactly as you asked, Seonghwa felt the excitement rise within him as his arms pressed down on the bench that was part of what he could only describe as a playset.

After Seonghwa got fully situated, you stood behind him and hooked your ankle with his before spreading his legs. You cuffed his ankles to the legs of the bench then took another pair of cuffs and handcuffed him behind his back. Once everything was secure in place, you pulled his head back and brushed your lips against his ear.

“Remember, the safe word is evergreen.”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed lube from one of the shelves on the wall and squirted a good amount onto his ass— just like you did in his wet dream about you. And you fingered him, just like you did in his wet dream. The feeling, though, was definitely not like what he was expecting in his dream. In fact, it felt was more amazing to the pointed that he moaned loudly.

Meanwhile, you were surprised because your finger slipped in way easier than it should’ve.

“Did you loosen yourself up for me already, pretty boy?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he admitted— not going to lie, he was kind of scared that it was going to hurt if he didn’t try it himself first.

“What a good boy.”

Fuck. Seonghwa loved hearing that from your pretty lips.

“You’re so nice and loose for me. I love it,” you continued.

You grabbed his ass and squeezed tightly, Seonghwa’s body flinching upon the feeling, his ears immediately turning bright red. You leaned over his body and whispered in his ear, You’ve got such a nice body, Seonghwa. I want to absolutely wreck it.”

“Please do, ma’am.”

Immediately, you spanked his ass, the sound resonating in the room along with a sonorous moan from the naked man bending and spreading before you.

“You want more of that?” you asked, not that you had to based off his reaction.

“Y-yes, please!”

And so, you spanked him again, but this time with the riding crop. Seonghwa’s ass stung, but he was loving it, which you could definitely tell thanks the moans that left his lungs with every slap. You spanked him over and over again, each impact stronger than the last. Seonghwa’s tongue hung out of his mouth, and he was beginning to drool on the table, his lips curling into a half-smile. He was absolutely loving this, and you had yet to do anything but spank him.

“You’re a complete masochist, pretty boy. Did you know that?”

“Now I know,” Seonghwa breathed out blissfully.

“Mmm, yes. God, I just want to eat you up. You’re such a fucking cutie.”

You stopped spanking him and disappeared for half a second to grab the strap-on before returning to the man. You ran your hands from his shoulders down to his waist, causing him to twitch as your every touch. He was so unbelievably turned on, and he only got more turned on when you spread his ass cheeks wide.

“You remember the safe word, right?” you asked him, your voice nearly purring.

“Evergreen.”

“Good boy.”

Rubbing the strap-on along his ass crack, you stuck your two pointer fingers into his hole and stretched him open. Once you got him as relaxed and open as you needed him to be, you shoved the cock into his asshole.

Seonghwa flung his head back and let out a choking moan, his whole body reacting to being filled up by you. You watched him breathe heavily, spit trickling down the corners of his mouth, and you observed his red, hard, angry cock trickle out pre-cum rapidly. You pulled out slightly then thrust suddenly into him once more, cum immediately spurting out and covering the hardwood floor below the bench, and he only came more with one more thrust, then another.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Seonghwa cried and whimpered, his entire body shaking as cum leaked from him uncontrollably.

You wanted to tease him, but in the same breath, you also wanted to see how much more you could milk out of him just by fucking him roughly from behind. So, holding onto his waist, your fingers digging into his soft skin, you fucked him hard. Your hips rammed into his and made the whole bench move as you fucked him relentlessly, his groans and cries filling up the room.

“M-Ma’am,” Seonghwa whined in between his loud moans and whimpers. “T-too good!”

“You like that, pretty boy?” you asked. “You want more?”

Seonghwa could barely respond. He could only nod. He whimpered loudly when you pulled out, his legs trembling when your strap-on rubbed against his prostate so perfectly to the point where he came again. Crying and panting, he completely collapsed on the bench. As he laid there and tried to catch his breath, you worked on freeing him from the cuffs. The cuffs fell to the ground as you tossed them aside before patting his ass lightly.

“Seonghwa, turn around for me,” you whispered sultrily.

“Ye— Hic!— Yes ma’am,” Seonghwa hiccuped.

Doing as you asked, the man stood up on his wobbly legs and turned for you, his back pressing against bench. You ran your hands up his thighs and rested them on his waist while bringing your lips to his but not kissing him— not quite yet. You brushed your lips against his pout and teased him lightly, your strap-on rubbing along his hard-on in the process.

“Would you like me to kiss you, pretty boy?” you breathed out.

“Yes…” Seonghwa responded breathily. “Yes, please.”

Seonghwa tasted exactly how you expected him to: sweet and desperate. His shaking hand found its way to your hair and held the back of your head as if he was clinging to the remaining shreds of his sanity as you locked lips passionately. He let quiet moans of desire slip from his lips the more you kissed him, willing you to cup the underside of this thigh and bring his leg up so that it wrapped around your waist.

Positioning the strap-on, you teased his hole before suddenly thrusting up harshly, Seonghwa choking out a moan of sweet bliss as you did so. His grasp on your hair got tighter, and his knuckles nearly turned white as he gripped the bench.

With one hand planted firmly on his on his waist, your other hand started stroking his cock, the quivering tip leaking out more white. In between kisses, Seonghwa let out little grunts and moans as he tried desperately to keep himself from cumming again, but when your hand went a little further and massaged his balls, his cum spurt upwards, decorating his bare chest and your slutty lingerie.

Next thing he knew, Seonghwa’s back was pressed into the soft mattress of the bed in the room, your silicone cock deep inside him. You squeezed and pinched various parts of his body as you thrust slowly but deeply, the man’s body shivering with excitement at your every move. He had cum so many times by that point that his cum was near clear, but he was still horny and lusting for you. You watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he shuddered and came once more, his hands reaching backwards for the pillows so he could dig his nails into the sheets.

Honestly, you’d never been exhausted like this before. You’d had plenty of clients who had tapped out after cumming three measly times, but Seonghwa seemed to keep wanting to go even though he was cumming to the point where nothing seemed to come out anymore, yet he came yet again when you completely pulled out of him and sat above him, your knees straddling him.

“Look at you all fucked out under me, pretty boy,” you cooed as you tucked his sweaty locks behind his ear. “You don’t have anything left in the bank, but you still want me to rail you?”

“P-Please,” Seonghwa murmured. “F-Feels so… So good…”

“Seonghwa, darling, if I fuck you any more, you won’t be able to walk out of here.”

“Then… Fuck me again…”

“Again?”

You chuckled and laid alongside him, your arms wrapping around him as you brought him into your chest. He buried his nose in your cleavage and took a deep, satisfying breath of your bosom.

“Not today… But another day,” he mumbled shyly, his face still hidden from your view.

Cupping his cheek, you brought his head up so you could look into his bleak yet blissful half-lidded eyes, a cute little smile resting on his lips. You kissed his forehead and smoothed out his hair, the man hugging you closer in response.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Seonghwa continued softly. “What’re your rates?”

“For you, pretty boy? Free,” you answered definitively. “Just don’t find another bitch who’ll fuck you, and I’ll always be yours.”

“Don’t worry about that. You’re the only one I need.”

#broatz request #park seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa ateez #seonghwa ateez #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa ateez smut #broatz #cromernet

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lightlycareless · 6 months

Note

Okay but im so curious

how would the zenin household react to seeing naoya become affectionate/simp for y/n?????? the thought of it already makes me kick my feet in the air

I will start with the fact that everything Naoya does with you is like a huge shocker to the whole clan.

From him finding a partner that willingly wants to be with him, to demonstrating affection to said partner… yeah, no one believed Naoya could actually care for anyone else but him, at least in a way that doesn’t denote making fun of them or something.

But he does, and when you came along, it brought out that side many wished he would’ve kept hidden.

I never envisioned Naoya to be very fond of PDA, at least not with people he knows, because he gets somewhat embarrassed (lol). Even holding hands with his wife when his relatives are nearby is like a big no-no. He feels like he needs to uphold this untouchable image of heir before them, demand their fear respect and so on.

However, as years go by, he’ll eventually just stop caring, especially if the two get married. He just… doesn’t give a f*ck lol.

And the thing he’ll do though at this point, oh, they’re going to be far from sweet. Let’s say that Naoya is a huge pervert when it comes to you lol. I don’t have any other way to put it, he’s just obsessed with you.

Naoya is the kind of person to slap your butt when passing/approaching you. He doesn’t care if you’re in the company of your staff, or if his uncle/cousins are there, or anyone really—he just had to do it, couldn’t hold himself, and you absolutely hate him for it because it makes you go through embarrassing moments!! Having to apologize in his name in order to do some damage control, people looking at the two and immediately looking away because they can’t remove that mental image!!! Oh boy.

You’ve talked to him about it and agreed to at least… keep it to a minimum, be more discreet if possible. Of course, that only applies in public places. In the bedroom… that’s a completely different story 😏

And let’s not forget he’s known to be a loudmouth, so the things he’ll tell you are not short of indecent either. This is probably the thing you dislike the most out of his affection. The other you could tolerate, act like no one saw anything (even play the fool if someone alleged they saw something) but THIS???? Nah, it’s just too much—and childish too.

“I don’t think it’ll fit, Naoya” you say, probably about something mundane like a new couch you got for the house.

“Really? But I saw how well you fit me yesterday.” And the way your face turns red is almost comical, more so when the mover was right there, listening to everything, Naoya just had to laugh.

“Shut up!!”

“What? I was referring to the conversation about the couch we had last night, pervert.” lies. The sneaky bastard will act like you’re the indecorous one out of the two for having understood his words like that!! As if you hadn’t known him for years now!

It’s safe to say that it’s really hard to have important meetings when the two are present, so his family would often try to get you or Naoya alone.

But… it wasn’t all that bad, because even when Naoya can be mildly infuriating, he’s also capable of being sweet.

That is something that mostly happens when in private, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, more so when he’s spent a long time away from you.

Naoya will reach out for you first thing upon arriving back to the estate, gently cup your cheeks and pepper your face with kisses, telling you how much he missed you and your pretty face.

He’d wrap his arms around you, rest his face on the crook of your neck, taking in your scent as he relishes the fact that he’s finally back to your embrace.

Another thing I think he’ll enjoy doing (you as well) is when he rests his head on your lap, telling you of his day as you thread your fingers along his hair.

Bottom line, Naoya is overly shameless confident when in the eyes of others, but vulnerable with you :>

As for the reactions of the Zen’in clan….

Ogi, Naobito, and Jinichi would stare at him in complete silence/shock as Naoya goes on with his supposed displays of affection. I think that out of the three, Ogi would be the one more comfortable when showing his distaste for it, scowling whenever seeing you and Naoya together, quickly leaving the room as soon as he gets the faintest idea Naoya is to do his usual nasty shenanigans. The rest wouldn’t really care that much, asides from a “Really? Naoya? Ooookay” (and they know better not to interfere at this point 🤪 he's crazy protective of you)

Ranta would remain speechless, face completely red as he catches Naoya’s innuendos. He definitely feels a whole lot of empathy (pity) for you. But when his friend isn’t being nasty, he’s happy that he’s found someone to be vulnerable/happy with 😊.

Junko, Mai and Maki’s mother, is just the same as Ogi, only that she’ll openly tell both of you to “stop it”, and to “hold some decorum” for that’s no way the future leader of the clan should behave. Naoya just laughs it off, you apologize to her in private. At the end she knows it’s futile to even hope to change him—the two were young, after all, (IMAGINE IF HE WENT ON LIKE THAT EVEN WHEN OLDER? Hahahahah, Oh poor Junko) and contrary to her marriage, this was one made out of love so… good for them, she guesses.

Naoya’s brothers would be the ones to openly, even more than Ogi, show their disgust whenever catching his PDA. Naohiko would be the one to exclaim “EWWWWWWWWWWWW” as loud as possible when he sees them, maybe do some puking noises too? haha

Naofumi would initially not understand what the hell Naoya is going on about and why you’re so embarrassed all the time, but when he does get it, oof, he’ll disappear as soon as it begins.

And Naoaki… well he’d just try to avoid the two as most as possible in general lol. He never liked seeing people making out anyways... (uh who does???)

At the end, Naoya’s behavior would worsen become more and more obvious, especially when the two have their first kids 😊 He just loves you too much, he needs you to know that—that the others have issues with it he doesn’t care 🥺 all that matters to him his you and his new family.

ajgfakghagk Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I hope it was to your liking ❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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gyll-yee-haw · 3 months

Note

im actually in love with all your donnie darko stuff, after being starved from donnie darko content you fed us

i was wondering if you could do a smut for him where reader squirts for the first time then he becomes obsessed with it and makes her do it over and over again?? tysm ^-^

Thank you so much, babyyy <333

I hadn't written too much about Donnie before, but I'm in love right now 🥺

Well, this is filthy, absolutely filthy (thanks you, I love it), overstimulation

Warnings: squirting, creampie, dirty talk, masturbation (m and f)

Like 1k words

---

"Come on, baby, I know we can find the spot... I don't mind if I have to fuck you in 13 different positions, do you?" He kisses your neck as you giggle.

"Are you sure, Don?" You sigh. "It was so messy..."

"Fuck, baby, it was..." he grabs your waist, keeping you still under him as he starts rubbing your clit slowly. "Can't get out of my head how fucking wet you got, it was amazing, wasn't it?"

You nodded, biting your lip at the memory of last night's activities, when Donnie made you squirt for the first time. Not even you were aware you could do that... all you remember was that he had you on all fours, gripping the sheets, balls deep inside of you... and something felt different. It wasn't like you were going to cum, it felt like you really needed to pee, out of nowhere. You were too embarrassed to ask him to stop, so you decided to try your best to just hold it. But he was fucking you so good, so hard... you just couldn't control your body very well.

And then it happened. You knew it wasn't pee, it was something you had never experienced before... but it was followed by a whole new sensation of relief, and by Donnie moaning like a wild animal at how hot that was.

And when the two of you woke up the next morning, he was rock hard just remembering it. He needed you to do that again.

"Oh, Donnie... feels so good..." you bucked your hips as he rubbed your swollen clit faster.

"I know, sweetheart." He slowed down until he stopped, making you moan in frustration, trying to grind on his hand. "Shh... hey... it's okay, I'll give you what you need. But you can't come yet, okay? Need you desperate."

"But... but what if I can't do it again? You won't be disappointed, will you?" You felt anxious.

"No! Of course not!" He looked at you with a mix of worry and absolute passion. "I just want to try it, okay? Nothing in this world could make me love this pretty pussy any less, my angel."

You smiled, spreading your legs wider, as a sign you didn't want to waste any more time. He returned your smile, staring to stroke his dick dangerously close to your entrance.

He entered you slowly, hissing at the way you squeezed him. He began thrusting gently, until you soaked and welcomed his entire length.

"Deeper, Donnie..."

"Fuck, say that again, my love." He smirked at your dirty talk.

"You have to get deeper, you were so deep yesterday..." you moaned more than you felt like you had to, just to give him a show.

He helped you rest your legs on his shoulders as he started going faster.

"Is this deep enough for you?" He chuckled as he watched your eyes roll back at how good he was hitting that exact spot at this new position. "You sure as hell feel tighter... fuck!"

"Donnie!" Your legs started shaking. "Think... think I'm gonna do it..."

"Fuck, baby, please..." one of his hands went to your belly, applying pressure right where you felt his cock already pressuring enough. "Push it out for me, you can do it, pretty girl..."

You felt it rush out of you harder than the last time. On the position you were this time, you could see it soak his belly. It was so hot, it made you dig your nails on his back, enough to make him bleed.

"Fucking hell, oh jesus..." Donnie cried out, fucking you harder than ever. "You're such a good girl..."

"Donnie, I need to cum, please, give it to me..." you begged.

"Yeah? Hurry up, baby... you soaked my cock too fucking good for me to be able to hold it..." he said before crashing him lips into yours on a passionate kiss, hand sliding between your legs to rub your clit again.

Luckily you weren't able to hold it either, pussy contracting around his cock as you came hard. He filled you up seconds after, he couldn't even think about cuming anywhere else when he was that deep inside you.

And when he pulled out, he could have cried at that scene. The way you were soaked from squirting, plus his cum dripping out of you...

"Keep your legs spread for me, baby, don't move..." he asked, and you obeyed.

You looked at him in shock, as you saw he was stroking himself... cock not even fully hard, because that would be humanly impossible.

"Too hot, baby, can't waste this sight..." he whined pathetically, absolutely overstimulated, but physically unable to stop.

"Careful not to hurt yourself, Donnie." You mocked him. "I'm not going anywhere... there's no rush..."

"I know, but..." his cock throbbed as his hand moved up and down, making an obscene wet sound. "Too hot, feel like... need to cum more..."

"Right... get those balls fucking empty for me, then..." you gathered his cum, leaking out of you, rubbing it over you clit, starting to touch yourself for him.

Yes, it did hurt a little, but you understood him. You craved more.

The two of you moaned in sync, smell of sex in the air and sheets absolutely ruined under you. None of that mattered at the time.

Donnie came first. Shooting his load directly into your clit while you rubbed it. That scene and the extra lubrication it gave you had you throwing your head back and screaming his name as you came hard.

Took a while for the two of you to be able to talk again.

"We need a shower." He chuckled, watching your filthy state.

"That's easy." You shrugged. "But you're gonna need a new mattress if you keep making me do that..."

"Sounds worth it to me."

#donnie darko x reader #donnie darko fanfic #donnie darko #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal smut

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inklore · 2 years

Text

crimson and clover.

part one | next part | series masterlist

premise: maybe you shouldn’t get high with eddie again but you can’t get him off of your mind, and his lips are too inviting to fight the growing addiction you’re succumbing to from the things he can do with them.

pairing: eddie munson x richgirl!reader

word count: 7k

warnings: eighteen+ content, porn with plot, f receiving oral, fingering, a touch of voyeurism, weed smoking, virgin!eddie, teasing and banter, soft dirty talk, alluded blowjob, jealousy mention, cheesy fluff, shitty parentals.

etc: i’m literally obsessed with these two to the point of insanity!! like i’m not usually that much of a plot heavy girly but buckle up besties we in deep <3.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

It’s quite embarrassing, excruciatingly taxing, vexing and every other big word that you could remember and barely comprehend—but now are having a grave first-hand experience with—from those Jane Austen books you had to read in class.

Every ten sellable verb, feeling, pretext; all of them describing the exact state of your mind right now, and how superficial it made you feel. Aforementioned: excruciating, embarrassing.

A week has gone by since the night you spent with Eddie, and it’s all you find yourself thinking about.

Your mind plays a constant loop reel of everything that happened; the giggles, the kiss, the…other thing. At night when you want to sleep your mind is too busy thinking about whether or not Eddie’s thinking about it too, what happened. Or if he’s out bragging to his friends—something you have your doubts about. The two of you hadn’t discussed if this was an under-wraps kind of thing, it was probably common knowledge you wouldn't want it to be spread all over town. Which it would be, like wildfire.

None of your friends have called you to belittle you yet, so you doubt he’s told anyone.

But was it plaguing his mind as pathetically as it was yours? Or were you just so starved for decent human interaction that your mind was holding onto this one night like it was an aphrodisiac?

Maybe if you had received a call from him you wouldn’t be acting so…mortifyingly in your feelings for god knows why.

"Will we be graced with your presence across the tracks again, princess?" He had asked when he pulled up a block down from your house, not trusting his loud engine to not wake up your parents—or at the very least a neighbor who would see and then go running to your parents about the strange man they saw you with. It wasn’t a mess you wanted to deal with.

"Don't call me that." You had groaned, undoing your seatbelt and hiding your smile by biting the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t thought past this night, were still too busy rolling off that high from smoking and having Eddie against your mouth…inside of your mouth.

And maybe it was his smile, his thumb tapping on the steering wheel, eyes flashing to your mouth and back up like he didn’t know if he was allowed to kiss you again, or if he should.

But you reached across the dash and grabbed the pen randomly rested atop of it, leaned over to pull his hand from the wheel, and wrote your number on top of it.

"Don't call before six or after midnight.” You let your smile spread, threw the pen back on the dash, and opened the passenger door hopping out. “See you around, Munson.”

That was seven days ago and counting.

Never-ending counting.

It’s not like you expected him to call. You figured he probably wouldn’t, the two of you were not about to become best friends just because he cleaned your shoes, or let you smoke his weed, or because he came in your mouth. You didn’t—shouldn’t—have any expectations from Munson and you were sure he had none from you.

History didn’t make you friends. Sharing weed or an incredible kiss didn’t either.

So it wasn’t a big deal he hadn’t called.

And yet as you sit at one of the pristine white table cloth tables of the Country Club, your parents on either side of you, your fingers playing with the straw of your drink; you’re wondering if he’s called.

You’re so hyper-focused on that thought, of the thought of that stupid smile that you can’t shut your eyes without seeing—that you don’t hear your mother speaking to you until the words “I heard you two broke up” are spat through the air.

Reality crashes down on you, and you can’t help the grimace that flashes across your lips. Word really does spread like wildfire in this town. You hadn’t expected your parents to find out until at least a few weeks—or never, a girl could dream. Enough time for you to come up with an excuse at least, anything but the truth. Which would be nothing but unacceptably unrealistic to them.

“He’s not a good-”

“I didn’t ask for your feelings on the matter.” Your mother interrupts. Scowls down at the martini glass in her hand. “Fix it. You’re both going to the same college, a college your father called in many favors just to get you in. Since you couldn’t do it on your own.” Her last words are mumbled, snappy, and hurtful as always. “His parents run in the same social circle as us and could do wonders for your father's business. Don’t ruin this for yourself over girlish feelings.”

Your throat feels tight, constricted, suffocated. Your fingers have dropped from your straw to grip the end of your white pleated skirt under the table. You know even if you told your mother the full story, how you truly felt, how you’ve been with him since sophomore year and neither of you have even muttered the words ‘I love you’. And don’t think you ever will. Would.

Or how last year over spring break the two of you broke up for a month and you had felt more rejuvenated than any hundred-dollar spa treatment ever could. As if you had peeled off a deadweight and could finally feel something other than the caked-on layers of presser that were endlessly put onto you by him, by them.

Then he came back and said the same thing your mother did “don’t ruin this for us” when he had been the one to leave you. And you’d done the stupid thing and said yes. As the two of you kissed and made up your mind searched for the why, the how, the what-the-fuck-were-you doing.

And now with your mother's words as fresh as a reopened wound reminding you of the memory, you know you said yes because of her. Your father. Their need to seem so disgustingly perfect on the outside, to hide how ugly they were on the inside.

Were you as ugly as them?

The question makes your knee bounce, knuckles straining from the grip on your skirt.

Your mothers already moved on from you, talking to the friend at her side. Smiling, keeping that perfect crown in place. Turning towards your father you hope to see a sympathetic look, some wise words—wasn’t that what fathers were supposed to do? Wise words and comfort? But he’s not even looking at you, too busy laughing at something the man beside him has said.

You need to get out of here. Go home and scream into your pillow or something.

Standing from the table, a little too quickly. The legs of your chair screeching against the hardwood, your father finally looks at you.

“Everything alright?” A monologue of how everything is the farthest thing from being alright in the back of your throat and ready to be screamed. But then you can feel your mother's eyes on you, don’t have to turn to see her look of impassiveness to know it’s there.

“Yeah,” you give them both your best performed smile. “Just going to do what mom said, fix it.”

Your lie only gets you a hum from said woman and then she’s done with you and turning her head. Your dad gives you the weakest of smiles and asks if you need any money—for no reason at all. Shaking your head you quickly bid them goodbye and do your best walk-sprint out of the building.

The hot summer night air a welcome humidity from the suffocation you felt in there.

You have your parent's driver take you home. Screw your ex and screw your parents.

If your mother wanted him to be in your family so bad maybe she should drop her Pilates instructor and have him instead. It would take a hefty price—that you were sure your parents would gladly pay to get you to shut up and listen to them—to ever bring yourself to his front door and beg for him back.

You didn’t beg. For anyone. Over anything.

You asked. You got. Demanded. Sometimes you didn’t even need to ask. You were just given to. Your bank account and school career showed as much.

Fuck, maybe you were the Princess of Hawkins after all.

You start in a small sprint up the stairs to your room, your throat still feeling as if it’s being squeezed by your mother's words, indifference towards you, demands. Even with her not around you feel like you’re being suffocated by her.

You really shouldn’t have come back home.

Not for the summer. Not anytime. Should have just stuck to the one call a month and check in the mail. Life was more peaceful that way. At least you could breathe.

It was going to be one hell of a long, torturous summer.

“Someone called for you!”

You hear just as your foot lands on the last step. Your heart leaping in your chest as you turn and yell down, “who?”

“They didn’t say.” Your family housekeeper appears at the bottom of the stairs, a small smile on her face. “But they did leave their number and said to call them if you needed help on biology or something like that.” She shakes her head, “could barely understand them. There was loud music in the background.”

Eddie.

The grin that spreads across your lips is demeaning to your social status. Same with the way your heart feels like it’s pumping from your stomach now as you run back down the stairs and take the number from her, only to run back up them and to your room; dialing the number into the pink phone beside your bed, pacing the floor as you wait, hope, shamefully pray that he answers.

On the fifth ring he answers and when his voice floods through the phone when you hear the “shit-hold on” as he turns down the music blaring in the background, you feel like you can finally breathe again. No more tight throat. Suffocating. The only thing you feel now is that familiar giddy ache in your cheeks.

“Biology huh?”

You can hear the puff of air Eddie lets out from realizing it’s you, from the smile that you can tell is on his face when he speaks through the receiver, “I thought telling her I was ‘the weed guy’ would be worse, town freak was my second option.”

"Munson, it's summer no one's doing biology!"

“Incorrect. Summer school is a prison sentence I have had the displeasure of being sentenced to.” Of course, he has. You can’t help the laugh that comes out, one he joins in on.

There’s a silence that spreads where you can hear him fiddling with something on the other line.

And then he’s saying, “is the Princess busy or can she step away from the castle, and grace us, peasants, with her presence?"

You’re smiling again, fuck.

“She could, but I don't know, she might need payment." You say in your best uppity voice, flopping back on your bed. Your fingers coiling and uncoiling the cord hanging from the phone.

"Drats! Right when I’m out of gold doubloons too."

“Oooh, and I only take gold, looks like the peasants must go un-graced today.”

"Would thy majesty take my humble payment of the best weed in the county instead?" He puts on his best historically accurate voice that has you snorting.

“That’s very presumptuous of you to say it's the best."

"Did I say the best? Sorry, I meant the greatest.”

God, you despised how nice this felt. How the muscles in your cheeks were already sore and you hadn’t even been talking to him for more than five minutes. How you can’t remember someone calling you and it being like this, no gossip, no hounding questions or accusations.

Oh, how the normal half lives.

"I'll meet you where you dropped me off the other night, okay?"

"Your chariot will be waiting, princess."

When Eddie picks you up and the two of you fly across town, sharing silent smiles, the town passing in the rear view, heavy metal blaring throughout the speakers—that he doesn’t turn down until his van comes to a stop through a wooded clearing, in front of a familiar lake.

Lovers Lake.

"Really, Munson? Trying to get lucky again?" You tease, a cheeky grin covered up by him laughing behind the hair that moves in his face as he undoes his seatbelt and moves to the back of the van.

You follow him into the back, sitting on the van floor. Eddie on the sofa, much like the last night the two of you were together. Except now you’re sitting with your legs crossed out in front of you, back against one of the walls of the van.

You let him do his thing of pulling out the metal box and rifling through it while he finds what he needs. Occupying your time with looking at the newly added amps and wires that weren’t there the other night.

"What's your band called again?"

"Corroded Coffin.”

You smile remembering him telling you that when you were partnered together. Remember how he drummed his fingers on the desk and air guitared you a silent piece to emphasize how good he swore he could play, how good the band was.

"You should come see us play sometime. If you're into that.” He looks up at you through his bangs, his fingers moving in his lap as he rolls the joint.

You give the tiniest smirk as you say, “like a date?”

His shoulders are shrugging, ringed fingers scratching his cheek. “If a grimy bar and drunk geezers falling off their barstools is your ideal date then yes. Absolutely.” You share a smile and then he’s going back to his task at hand.

When he’s finished rolling, and after you’re done eyeballing him: watching how his fingers work along the rolling papers, those damn rings distracting you, and finding yourself at a loss for words when you watch him bring it to his lips and run his tongue along the seam to close it.

You were here to get away. To kill time. To smoke. Nothing else.

What happened the other night should stay a one time thing. With how your insides keep acting up from the mere thought of it. This was dangerous territory already.

"Your payment, princess." Eddie holds out the freshly rolled joint, doing a little bowing motion as he does. Making you laugh and playfully snatch it from his fingers.

Bringing it to your lips, he pulls out a lighter from the front pocket of his jeans. Leaning forward he flicks it and holds it to the other end, lighting it for you. His eyes on yours as you forget to inhale for half a second, too busy staring back at him. The thick smoke almost making you choke after you’ve come to and inhale; an intensity holding between your gazes.

He’s so close, if you were to remove the joint you could lean in and….

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight.

You quickly move back over to your spot and take a few puffs, praying that it chills whatever tempestuous feelings were burning in your lower belly right now.

The two of you fall into an easy rotation, puffing, passing, Eddie making a joke and you losing it. A peaceful cycle that soon has you forgetting about the earlier events of the day and how you had felt; your nerves now lax, body feeling good. And not just because of the weed, but because of the boy sitting in front of you.

A fact you let yourself feel.

The only thing you allow yourself to feel.

You’re tapping your foot mindless against the bottom of the couch to the metal playing through the van, ignoring the friction it causes against the pant leg of Eddie’s jeans; his leg pressed against yours as the two of you have your limbs spread out.

Your fingers are flipping through a random magazine you’ve found in one of the many piles of junk on the floor. “Who sings this?”

"Corroded Coffin.”

Your head snaps up a little too fast giving you whiplash, as you look up at him—he’s already staring back, how long has he been watching? And have your cheeks always been this warm, or is the thought that he had possibly been watching you for god knows how long that’s making you feel overheated right now?

“This is your band?!”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “I don't see any blood coming from your ears so I take it your majesty approves?"

You make a face, shrugging. "I was swallowing down my vomit actually, was trying to hide it with being nice."

“Mmm.” He replies, his hair covering his smile as he fiddles with the chain connected to his jeans.

It’s an effort to pull your eyes away from him and go back to flipping through the magazine—as if you were doing anything other than looking at the pictures. Your high mind having very little comprehension of the words printed across the flimsy papers.

That comfortable silence spreads between the two of you again, your foot going back to its tapping. Your head doing a little bob along with the beat.

“Was that a jive I just saw?”

Your movements stop, “a jive?” The snort of laughter that comes deep from within your throat should be embarrassing. If it were anyone else in front of you you know you’d do everything in your power to cover it up.

“Who says that?”

“I know many people who say it.”

“Are they 80 and over?”

Eddie shakes his head, his laugh dying down. “You like it, the music?”

“I’ve heard worse.” You shrug nonchalantly. Close the magazine and toss it back in its pile of junk.

“I’ll take it!” His fist pumping in the air in triumph.

Shaking your head you send an eye roll his way. Your heart doing a little leap in your just at how cute you think he looks right now. Your mind working overtime to hone in on the little things that light up his features when he smiles or laughs—and then the little things that don’t matter at all: like how this is your second time here and the first he had scurried around and tried to move his random messes out of the way, to clean it up. But this time around he didn’t even bother, as if a comfortability has already grown between the two of you. You hadn’t run for the hills, already knew what he was about, that this van was a second home to him by the looks—and he knew you wouldn’t care what it looked like. Hadn’t made a fuss the first time so why not let you see him more in his realm?

It makes a weird affection burn in your gut and has you toying with the bottom of your skirt to distract yourself from it.

Just listen to the music. The band. It’s pretty good.

Which isn’t shocking to you in the slightest. It only took you all your school career, and give or take a few years, to realize that Eddie Munson was a lot of things but mediocre was not one of them.

But your mind is racing a mile a minute, unlike the first time, you smoked Eddie’s stash. Which meant that you were the problem, the issue causing your mind to run from the blissful high into difficult feelings and misunderstandings of said feelings.

Go figure.

Your legs are still touching each other. You can feel the bare minimum of his heat against your legs, but it’s enough to add flashbacks of the other night into the mix of your mind. How you could feel the heat from other parts of his body; under you, beside you, against you, inside your mouth.

The tender skin of your bottom lip quickly becomes raw from your teeth, as the memories bombard you. As you grow warmer and warmer. And make the mistake of looking up at him, watching him, staring at him—and then he’s catching you doing just that and you have the urge to ask him if he’s thought about you sense that night, or why he hadn’t called sooner.

Questions with obvious answers.

But your mind is working against you here.

And the last thing you want him to think is that you’re just sitting at home waiting for him to call. Like you’re desperate for it, begging for it. Something you do not do. And was not about to start for Eddie Munson.

“Did you have plans later?” He asks.

Making your brows come together, a confused look on your face as you wonder if you’ve missed something. If he spoke before this and you just didn’t hear because of your internal war.

“The outfit,” he points with a finger, “it’s chic.” A lopsided grin pulls up the corners of his mouth just as you laugh.

“Chic?” You shake your head, “I was at the Country Club with my parents.”

“And you let me steal you away from such fun with the other royals? Honored." His hand splays over his chest.

You make a face, “my mother thinks I’m crawling on my hands and knees back to lover boy." You drop the same nickname Eddie had the other night for your ex, seeing his expression change from it. His smile faltering, fingers brushing at a few loose strands of hair in his face.

“Are you?”

“If I was, would I be here with you?"

"Maybe you needed some devil induced bravery to help you crawl."

"I wouldn't waste a good high on him,” you scoff.

Eddie’s silent for a second too long for your sanity and then he’s saying, “instead you're here wasting it on me."

"It's not a waste.” The words slip out. Come out so naturally that you don’t realize how sentimental of a meaning they have until you see Eddie’s expression. See the softness of it, and how you cannot bear the way your insides feel right now.

What’s the worst thing that can happen from you hooking up with Munson again?

“At least it doesn't have to be.." you’re pulling at your skirt again, can’t bring your eyes up to his as the words hang in the air—an invitation.

"Hitting on me now, princess?” His leg pushes into yours playfully, “who knew you could be so flattering. So charitable.” He teases.

You only look up to scowl at him, because you were not hitting on him—maybe, not really, you didn’t hit on people, you were hit on. But like many things around Munson it had changed, morphing itself into something you don't recognize; something better. You are going to tell him as much, flaunt your Princess status tenfold. But can’t stop looking into his big brown eyes, can’t stop the burning in your stomach going lower lower until it turns into that same lust you felt for him the other night.

And fuck it.

You’ve already dipped your toe over that line once, mine as well put your whole foot in.

"Shut up, Munson.” Your retort is less ice than it is fire, a breathy huff that you mean to sound playful but miss the mark. “Come here,” you hesitate. "Please.”

The beam that spreads across his face is anything but subtle or shy, promptly dropping down to his knees and crawling the short distance to you. A position he stays in even as he brings his lips to yours.

The kiss, his lips, his fingertips at the side of your neck just as heart stopping and pulsating-ly devastating to your insides as last time. A pang of jealousy shoots through your belly at the thought of how many girls he has kissed before you, he’s had to have kissed a couple, a handful maybe, you weren’t this good at kissing if you hadn’t. Kisses didn’t just feel like this, normally. Right?

Or maybe you just weren’t kissing the right people. Person.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to move into the realm of breathless pants and tongues against each other, teeth biting into lips. And unlike last time Eddie doesn’t need an invitation to touch you; his hands go from your neck to your cheeks, your jaw, chin, the back of your skull, and into your hair. The tips of his fingers making a road map of every sensitive spot above your collarbone.

Eventually, thanks to some maneuvering and awkward giggles the two of you are laid on the floor of the van—you on your back, Eddie on his side with his front pressed flush against you. His lips have veered from yours, leaving a path of kisses and nips along your jaw, under it, to your neck where he runs his tongue along a sensitive spot of skin, his lips wrapping around it to suck softly and then sink his teeth into.

A breathy gasp strangled out of you, your hips moving against the air. An imprint of Eddie smirking against your skin from the noise, left behind when he kisses just below the area. Fuck.

“How many–” you swallow, lick your lips, breathless, “how many girls have you kissed like this?”

It’s probably not the right thing to ask right now, but your mind keeps going back to it. That jealousy making your stomach sink as you anticipate his answer, as you dread and wish your body and brain were working together instead of on separate plains of pain and pleasure.

“Uh, a dozen obviously.” He laughs softly against you when you dig your nails into his arm playfully, in replace of the scowl you’d shoot him down with if you could turn your head—or if you wanted him to stop the knee shaking presses of his lips right now, which you’re delirious but not that delirious to stop him. “Only you, princess.”

The information shouldn’t have you soaring any more than you already are, shouldn’t make those jealousy twists get snuffed out by a belly full of butterflies, and flutters that go all the way down to your throbbing clit. But it does and you’re reeling at the sentiment that you’re probably Eddie’s first everything in this sense. In this realm.

It’s not triumph you feel, it’s something softer and dangerously close to affection and attachment that has no business filling your chest with warmth right now.

And instead of feeling the aforementioned feelings, distracting yourself with giving him pleasure—and to hear those beautiful noises from the other night—your hand is moving from his arm to the bulge pressing to your hip.

Your fingers and palm run up his clothed length and pull those delicious breathy grunts from him. No man should sound this good, no sound should have you feeling like you’re melting into the floor.

Your mouth finding Eddie’s in a hungry kiss, a need to swallow down his noises like a drug, needing sedation. You could get addicted to this if you’re not careful.

Your fingers drag themselves up to his belt, try to blindly pull the leather through its buckle, the loops. And just like a repeat of the night before, his hand is there to stop you.

“Gotten shy on me?” You ask with a coyness that makes him give you a ‘not in this lifetime’ look.

“I just want to make it crystal clear that I didn’t bring you here for this.” His tone only holds gentleness, his hand bringing yours up to his mouth to brush a few kisses across your knuckles.

“Even if you did,” your fingers twist a strand of his hair, “I wouldn’t be upset.”

And you mean that. If Eddie had only brought you here for a replay of the other night or something further than that, you know—even if it was against your better judgment—you wouldn’t be too upset about it, or at all. It was hard to be upset with lips like his pulling out smiles and whimpers from you.

But it also means that Eddie had called you because he wanted to see you, to hang out…which is harder for you to grasp than the prospect of only casual hookups between the two to you.

Those Jane Austen feelings back with a vengeance in your chest cavity.

Your answer makes a chuckle echo in his chest. “But,” he’s looking at you with all seriousness within those doe eyes. “Now that we’re–” he motions to your current positions with his hand, “here. I want to return the favor. For the other night.”

Oh?

Oh.

Pressing your lips together, you do your best to hide the excitement that shoots up your spine, nodding in a super-casual-not-too-fast way. “Yeah, okay, yes, totally.”

“Totally?” He mocks you, smirking.

“Totally.”

Then his lips are on yours again without needing further confirmation. The kiss slower this time compared to the last lip lock that made your bottom lip feel like it was inflamed from his teeth. Your mouths move in perfect sync, and if you could figure out a way you know you could get off by just his kiss alone. He moves your hand back to his crotch, giving you back access to his hardness as his hand begins its travel down your chest. Palming your boobs over your white polo, his thumb moving across your nipple, making you whimper. Your chest pushing up into him.

The closer he gets—the further his fingers move along the fabric of your clothes—the anticipation of where you want him, where he wants to be, makes your legs pull together. Thighs in a tight lock, your attempted relief of the pressure on your clit only makes the throbbing worse. You can feel how soaked you are through the cotton of your panties, know that once you feel his fingers slip inside of you it’s going to be game over.

There's a whoosh of air against your thighs from Eddie pushing up the top of your skirt, putting your clothed pussy on display for him. His mouth pulling from yours as he looks down at you and takes you in. The hunger in his eyes turning the brown hues in them black. You’re about to ask him if he wants you to take your underwear off, his fingers slipping past the elastic of them stopping you. His palm warm against your mound.

Eddie runs his middle finger through your folds, voice low and gravelly when he says. “You’re so wet.” All you can do is mewl, bite your already raw lip as you try to keep your hips still, try to hold yourself back from fucking his hand the way you want to. His fingers explore you for a bit, misstepping your throbbing clit each time the tips of his fingers come close to it. Even as you finally let yourself move your hips a fraction of an inch up, he’s still not touching the spot you really need, instead, he’s moving every place you don’t need him. Until he slips a finger inside of you too aggressively, making an “ahh” hiss out of you.

Your face scrunched when he turns to look down at you, halting his actions. Body tense, “did I hurt you?”

He’s never done this before, it’s not new knowledge and yet thanks to your hormone filled haze—and the need to come—you were expecting him to know all the places to touch. To not be as aggressively pushy right from the get-go.

“No,” you sigh, laughing softly. “Sort of, just…can I show you?” You’re nervous he’s going to take it the wrong way. That this is where it’s going to end because it'll be awkward and he’ll be embarrassed or mad or something.

But there you go thinking Eddie is one thing when he’s the exact opposite. The endless surprise of this boy never ceasing to show you why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover—or by its fellow shitty townspeople.

Eddie nods, eyes soft and tentatively looking at you in the same way an excited student looks thrilled to learn from a teacher.

Wasting no time you loop your fingers into the elastic of the cotton covering your pussy, pulling the garment down your legs and tossing it to the side. Moving comfortably back into your lying position, skirt still pushed up, completely showcasing yourself to him. A flutter sinking low into your belly when you watch Eddie’s throat bob from a tight swallow as he looks down at your wet cunt.

And while he watches, stares at you, you’re staring up at him. Watching the hunger and desire to learn—to be taught—displaying itself across his face; your hand moves between your legs, the pad of your index finger putting the lightest of pressers on your clit. The moan you let out has Eddie’s hair falling in your face for half a second as his eyes snap to your face. As he watches your mouth part, brows come together, breaths shaky and weak as you touch yourself. Rubbing slow circles against your throbbing clit, where you wanted, needed to feel him. Where you’ve been throbbing and aching for what felt like hours—days—for him.

His fingers dig into your thigh as he spreads your legs wider, holding it up and against him below your knee so you’re completely open for him. So he can see you run your fingers down between your folds to catch the gathering arousal at your entrance and pull it back up to coat your clit.

You should be talking right now, should be directing him with your words, but you can’t. Have never touched yourself in front of anyone before, never had to, or wanted to. The act of touching yourself strictly permitted for when you were alone in your room at night. Never like this. But you’ve been convinced. Turned over a new leaf in the things you like, enjoy; the way Eddie is watching your fingers, the way he brings his gaze back up so fucking slow to look at your face. To hold eye contact with you as you moan and tremble. That mounting pressure already starting, so fast, so good.

Eddie leans into the small distance of space between your mouths to swallow down one of your moans that comes out at the same time his lips press to yours. “You’re so pretty.” He whispers between kisses. “How many guys have you let watch you like this?”

You whimper, breath hot on his mouth, “none. Only you.”

He’s grinning against your mouth, “you do this at night when you’re alone in your bed?”

“Yes.” Humming, you feel breathless, can feel your hips gyrating against your hand, legs trembling. Know you’re so close. But don’t want to make yourself come. Want Eddie to be the one to make you come, want his fingers to be inside of you when your walls constrict and carry you through that euphoric high.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, princess.” His head lifts back up to look back down at your pussy, the wet sounds of your arousal against your finger and clit filthy.

Have you ever been this wet before? This turned on? Fuck, Eddie Munson.

Without thinking—reeling off of your own need—you grab his hand that's still holding your leg to him. “Put your hand over mine.” Following directions eagerly Eddie does so, places his searing palm atop yours, his index finger resting perfectly against yours; moving along as you go back to stroking your clit. “Like this, slow–ahh–circles.” The last syllables of your words choked out over a moan. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, know you’re probably making a mess on the makeshift carpeting below you.

He copies your movements for one, three, six circles and then you’re snaking your hand away and it’s his finger on your clit. The change in feeling is instantaneous and has your hips stuttering, whines coming out weaker. Your hand gripping the material of his shirt, needing to ground yourself. To remind you that yes, this is reality and not some crazy out of body wet dream.

“Like that?” Eddie asks against your cheek.

“Yes.” You don’t think your moans have ever sounded this wailing, this intense to the point where you’re almost embarrassed at how good you feel right now. How your body is shaking and mewling and reaching out for him for pleasure. In need of it.

This time when he slips a finger into you it’s slow, so good and gentle as he pumps it inside of you, that amplifies the squelching of your wetness. “This okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

He fucks you like that, his middle finger fucking up into you, his thumb brushing against your clit at just the right angle that has you on the verge of seeing stars. You’re so so close, know that if he keeps doing that you’re going to be a goner–

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your brows pull up in confusion as you watch him detach himself from your side, removing his hand from between your thighs. Settling himself between your legs on his knees.

You expect him to start undoing his belt, figure he’s ready to take it further, aren't mad at the thought—but he’s surprising you again. “You got to taste, it’s only fair, princess.” Eddie smirks, situates himself in a comfortable hunching position, and then you’re gasping as he runs the tip of his tongue along your clit. Any rebuttal you could have thought to reply with dead in the water.

“Fuck, Eddie,” there are no missteps like the first time he was down there with his hand. Mimicking the movements you showed him with your fingers with his tongue, with a few added experimental licks and sucks that have your breath caught in your throat. “Ohmygod, and you’ve never done this before?” You curse, feel a breathy laugh fall across your clit. One, then another, finger slipping into you moving in tandem with his tongue.

Only one other guy has gone down on you and it was not as nearly intense or agonizing pleasurable as this—to the point where your thighs are closing in around his head, hands in his hair. Back arching. You feel like a woman crazed, like you had no idea you could feel this searing, pleasure this good.

You mean to say something, to warn him, to say any words that you can dredge up from the crevice of your dysfunctional brain; but all you can do is scream as you come against his mouth, as your pussy convulses around his fingers. Your hips rolling up into him, thighs shaking, body spasming as his name falls from your lips like a sinful prayer.

“Munson,” you whine, pulling at his chin once you’ve come down enough to function. Once you can finally see something other than the white bursts of light across your vision. Eddie’s tongue still running along your sensitive clit to the point of oversensitivity, that you have to pull him up.

His chin and cheeks are damp, bangs pressed to his forehead. Find yourself laughing at his tousled hair—no thanks to your fingers. There’s a cheshire grin stretched across his face as he runs the back of his hand over his mouth. Crawling up your body to hover over you and kiss you, a whimper coming from your throat as you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Wow.” You breathe, smile over at him as he rolls back to his side beside you. A palm resting over where your heart is still beating a mile a minute.

“I’ll take it.” Your laughs are in unison as a look of triumph flashes in those big eyes.

“If only you were that much of an eager learner in school, might have graduated, joined me on the road to success.” You pick.

“Not even seconds after I make her come and she’s already wounding me.” His chuckle muffled by the press of another kiss to your lips. “Better than lover boy?” Eddie teases.

“Can’t compare something that never happened.”

He makes a disgusted noise from the back of his throat, “no wonder you left him for the steerage.”

You hum nodding, turning your head to the side to press a kiss to his throat. Would it be too sentimental of you to tell him that he’s better than anyone you’ve been with? That no one has ever made you come that hard, not even yourself. That you can feel your wetness rolling down your ass cheeks and inner thighs from how wet he made you.

It could be a mood killer, sentiment isn't even your thing.

Plus it’s his turn now. Fair’s fair right?

There’s no complaint from Eddie as you move on top of him, roll your hips against his hardness, the seam of his jeans making you shudder from still feeling over-sensitive, as you move down the length of his body to rid him of his jeans and take him into your mouth.

“Here.” There’s a cassette tape gripped in his hand, the back of his head resting on the headrest of the driver's seat. You’re parked in the same spot he picked you up earlier, a block from your house. “Since you liked it so much,” he smiles.

Sentiment. Fuck.

Your smile is too cheesy and girlish for you to wrap any logistics into your head about it just being a tape, as you take it from and see his band name in black marker at the top. Your stomach fluttering. A simple gift that's not a big deal. You have to remind yourself as you try not to lean over and kiss him on that beautiful mouth of his.

“Here,” you say as you pull off your underwear and drop them into his lap. “A gift for a gift.”

You don’t let yourself stick around to see the heart-palpating look in his eyes as he grips the fabric in his hand and laughs, shouting “gold doubloons could never compare!” out of the open window. Making you press a finger to your lips, shooting daggers at him through the windshield as you pick up the pace towards your house. Trying to quiet your giggles and wipe the big girlish grin on your face.

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