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joelmillerisapunk · 2 months

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a sweet arrangement

sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ♡ Sugar Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,374

Summary: You sign up for a sugar daddy app. What's the worst that could happen?

Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (both m&f receiving), light bondage, reader might have pullable hair (i dont rememeber if i took it out) quick mentions of slut, baby, sweet baby, sweetheart, darlin

Notes: tysm @saradika-graphics for the dividers. I was cheated on over the weekend, and I wrote this as a "I wish I could be here" instead of being sad." Just another rich!daddy fantasy

You've been feeling financially stretched lately, and after hearing about the concept of sugar daddies and sugar babies from a friend, you decided to give it a try. You sit on your bed and hesitantly create a profile on a popular app, describing yourself as a young, independent woman looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement. As you sit scrolling through, you can't help but feel a sigh of reluctance escape your lips. You never expected to find yourself on a sugar daddy dating app, but life has a way of surprising you sometimes.

After a few moments of looking around the site, a notification pops up. It's a message from a user named "Contractor_Guy."

Curiosity piques, and you open the message, hoping it's not some creepy come-on. To your surprise, it reads:

"Hey there. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but I figured it's worth a shot. My name's Joel. If you're interested in getting to know me, send me a message back."

Feeling intrigued, you reply:

"Hi Joel, I'm not sure what 'this sort of thing' is, but I'm curious now.”

The response comes quickly.

Contractor_Guy: "Haha, 'this sort of thing' is something I usually avoid. But hey, it's a new day, and who knows what it might bring?"

You: Hopefully luck! But seriously, what exactly are you avoiding?"

Contractor_Guy: "Haha, well that's a bit of a long story, darlin.”

You: "Oh, I don't mind a long story. I've got some time to kill. Besides, I find it intriguing that someone like you is on a sugar daddy app.”

Contractor_Guy: "Well, my last experience wasn't the best, and I'm just being cautious this time around.

But, here's the long version. I met a girl a few years back, and at first, things were great. We clicked, and the relationship was mutually beneficial. I was able to provide for her in a way she couldn't for herself, and in return, she was there for me when I needed emotional support. As time went on, she started to change. She became more demanding and less appreciative. It got to the point where she would expect extravagant gifts just for a simple text or phone call. I realized that she was only interested in my money and not in the relationship we'd built."

You: "I'm sorry to hear that. It's not easy to find someone who's genuine and appreciates what you have to offer."

Contractor_Guy: "Yeah, it was a tough lesson to learn, but I'm hoping to find someone different this time. Someone who appreciates the little things, too, not just the material things."

You: "I think that's a fair expectation. We all deserve to be appreciated for more than just our wallets. So, Joel, tell me more about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

Contractor_Guy: "I'm a contractor. I do mostly residential construction and home remodeling projects. What about you? What do you do when you're not scrolling through dating apps?”

You: "Lol, I'm usually at work. I'm a graphic designer, so I spend most of my days in front of a computer. It's not the most glamorous job, but I love what I do."

Contractor_Guy: "A graphic designer, huh? That's pretty impressive. I've always been more of a hands-on guy myself. But I must admit, there's something intriguing about a woman in the arts.”

You: "And who doesn't love a man who can wield a hammer and a chainsaw with equal ease?"

Contractor_Guy: "Oh, I'm definitely good with my hands darlin' ;). ”

You: "Maybe one day you'll show me just how good you are with your hands."

As the conversation continues to flow effortlessly, you both exchange numbers and agree to meet for a coffee date tomorrow. Before signing off, you send a playful message with a picture attached

You: "Well, I'm off to begin the countdown to our coffee date. I'll leave you with this little teaser. ;)"

Insert a picture of you posing confidently in a cute outfit, with a mischievous grin on your face.

Contractor_Guy: "Wow, that definitely has me counting down the hours! I can't wait to see you in person."

With that, you end the conversation eagerly anticipating your first in-person meeting with the intriguing contractor.

The two of you meet for the first time at a trendy coffee shop downtown, and you can immediately sense Joel's charm and confidence. You can tell he's done this a time or two. He offers to buy you a drink and pulls out the mattest black credit card you have ever seen to pay with. He guides you to a table in the back corner, and you both engage in light conversation, discussing your interests and goals. Joel is clearly intrigued by you, and you feel a spark of attraction towards him as well.

"So, tell me more about yourself," Joel says, his eyes locked on yours.

"Well, like I said on the app, I'm a freelance graphic designer," you reply, “It's not the most stable job, but I love what I do."

"I can imagine," Joel says, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I've always been a fan of the arts. But I'm sure you understand the struggles of making ends meet as a freelancer. That's why I'm interested in this arrangement."

"I do understand," you agree, your mind already contemplating the potential benefits of such an arrangement. "It would be nice to have some financial stability while still being able to pursue my passion."

"Exactly," Joel says, his tone firm but understanding. "And in return, I'd like you to be my companion when I need someone to spend time with. We can go on dates, attend social events, or just relax at home. I value your company, you're easy on the eyes and brain, and I believe we would make a great team."

"I think that sounds fair," you say, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I'm looking for something similar - someone who understands my situation and is willing to help me out."

Joel offers to take you to his place for a glass of wine, and as he leads you to his car, the conversation shifts to the details of the arrangement.

"Now that we've established the terms," Joel says, his voice low and serious, "I want to make something clear. I'm going to support you financially in any way you could ever dream of or want, but there's one condition."

"What's that?" You ask, your curiosity piqued.

"I want access to you whenever I please, however I please," Joel says, his eyes meeting yours. "I want to be able to use you for my pleasure whenever I want. Are you comfortable with that?"

Your heart races as you consider his request. You know what he's asking for, and you're not sure if you're ready for that level of intimacy. But at the same time, you can't deny the excitement coursing through your veins.

"I need some time to think about it. This is a big decision."

"Of course," Joel replies, his tone understanding. "Take all the time you need. But remember, this is the condition of our arrangement."

As Joel drives you to his mansion, you can't help but feel a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This is unlike any arrangement you've ever been a part of, and you're not sure what to expect. As you follow Joel upstairs, your heart races in anticipation. He leads you into a large, dimly-lit room, its walls adorned with black velvet and soft, glowing lights. A large bed dominates the center of the room, surrounded by various toys and restraints.

"I want to show you what I mean when I say I want access to you whenever I please.” Joel says, his voice thick with desire.

Joel leads you over to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a seat on the edge, patting the space beside him. "Come here, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft and inviting.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. But the curiosity and excitement pulsing through you win out, and you find yourself sitting down next to him. Joel's hand reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says, his gaze intense.

You feel your entire body get warm at the compliment, your heart racing faster than ever before. "Thank you," you murmur.

Joel's hand begins to trace a path down your arm, sending shivers coursing through your body. "I want to make you feel good, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to give you pleasure like you've never experienced before."

Your mind is racing as Joel's hand continues to explore your body. You're not sure what to do, but you find yourself leaning into his touch, your body craving more.

"I want to show you something," Joel says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He stands up and walks over to a large wooden chest at the foot of the bed. He opens it, revealing a variety of toys and restraints. Your heart races as you take in the sight. You've never seen anything like this before, and you're not sure what to make of it. Joel walks back over to you, a blindfold in his hand. "I want to show you how good it can feel to let go and trust someone," he says, his voice soft and soothing.

You hesitate for a moment but something about Joel's words and the look in his eyes makes you feel safe, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. He gently places the blindfold over your eyes, cocooning you in darkness. You can feel his hands on you, guiding you back onto the bed. You trust him, and you let yourself relax into the feeling of his touch.

Joel's hands continue to explore your body, tracing patterns and circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel the bed shift as he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper. Your breath hitches as his hands continue to wander.

Suddenly, you feel something soft and silky against your skin. It's a scarf, and Joel is using it to gently bind your wrists to the bedposts. You gasp at the feeling of being restrained, but the sensation is not unpleasant. Instead, it heightens your senses, making you more aware of every touch and caress.

Joel continues to explore your body, his hands moving lower and lower until they reach the waistband of your pants. He pauses for a moment, waiting for your consent. "May I?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He slowly begins to slide your pants down your legs, his hands lingering on your skin as he goes. You can feel the heat of his touch, and you find yourself arching up towards him, wanting more. Finally, your pants are off, and Joel's hands are free to explore your body in earnest. He caresses your thighs, your hips, your stomach, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel yourself growing wet, your body responding to Joel's touch in ways you've never experienced before. You moan softly, your hips bucking up towards him. Joel takes the hint, his fingers finding their way to your wetness. He begins to explore you, his touch gentle but firm. You gasp at the sensation, your body quivering with pleasure. His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles that send shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. You find yourself moaning louder and louder, your hips bucking up towards him as you chase the feeling of release. Finally, you can't take it any longer. You cry out as the orgasm washes over you, your body trembling with pleasure. Joel continues to touch you, his fingers gentle as they bring you down from the peak of pleasure.

Slowly, your breathing returns to normal, and you become aware of your surroundings once again. The blindfold is still over your eyes, and you're still bound to the bed. But you feel safe and content, your body still humming with pleasure. He unties the blindfold, and you blink your eyes against the sudden brightness of the room. He's standing above you, a wicked smile on his face. "Did you like that, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes sir," you get out with a hoarse voice.

Joel's gaze travels down your body, taking in the sight of you spread out on his bed, still bound to the bedposts. "Mmm, such a good girl already," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. "I have so much more I want to show you."

He walks over to the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and rummages through it, pulling out a variety of toys and restraints. Joel turns back to you, a pair of handcuffs in his hand. "May I?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

“You may."

Your heart racies with excitement as Joel cuffs your hands above your head, replacing the soft, luxurious ribbon, and securing you back to the bedpost. You test the restraints, finding that they hold you firmly in place. Your heart is racing with excitement, your body tingling with anticipation. He walks back over to the chest and pulls out a vibrator. He turns it on, the buzzing noise filling the room. You watch as he approaches you. He traces the vibrator over your body, teasing you with each touch. You arch up towards him, wanting more. But Joel is in control, and he takes his time, drawing out the anticipation until you're nearly begging for release."Are you ready for more, darlin’?"

“Yes please,” your breath coming in short gasps.

"Good girl." He traces the vibrator lower, teasing your clit with each pass. You moan, your hips bucking up towards him. But he pulls the vibrator away just as you're about to come.

You whimper in frustration, but Joel just smiles. "Patience, baby, patience," he says.

He continues to tease you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm again and again, but never letting you fully come. You're writhing on the bed, your body begging for release when Joel leans down and whispers in your ear. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?"

You nod, your heart racing. "Yes, I do," you whisper.

Joel smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. You moan, your hips bucking up towards him. You're ready for whatever comes next.

Joel breaks the kiss, his eyes locked on yours. "I'm going to take you to the edge, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and seductive. "And then I'm going to bring you back again. And again. And again. Until you can't take it anymore."

Joel's hand moves back to the vibrator, tracing it over your clit once again. This time, he doesn't stop. He continues to tease and pleasure you. Suddenly, Joel pulls the vibrator away once again. You whimper in frustration, but before you can protest, he's replaced it with his mouth. His tongue expertly teases your clit. His hands roam your body as he brings you to the brink of orgasm once again. This time, however, he doesn't stop. He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers entering you and curling against your G-spot as he pushes you over the edge.

You cry out, your body shaking with pleasure as you come hard against his mouth. Joel doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to torture you as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. As you come down from your orgasm, you gasp for breath, your body still trembling with pleasure. Joel's gaze is intense as he watches you, his face flushed with arousal.

"That was so, fucking good," you manage to gasp out, your voice still hoarse from your orgasm.

Joel smiles, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad you thought so," he says, his voice low and seductive. "But I think it's your turn now."

"My turn?" you ask, your eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yes," Joel says, his smile widening. "It's time for you to return the favor.”

You feel a pang of nerves flood your body. “But I'm still all tied up.”

Joel smirks, leaning in. He grabs the hollows of your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, “ I never said you needed to be untied, did I.”

You swallow hard, your mind racing with the implications of his words. Joel releases your cheeks, his gaze traveling down your body. "You're going to make me very happy tonight, sweetheart. Just remember - I want access to you whenever I please, however I please. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," you reply, your voice full of submission.

Joel's smile widens, and he reaches down to unfasten his pants. He steps out of them and his boxers, revealing a hard, thick, ready erection. He climbs onto the bed, his legs straddling your chest. "Now, I want you to take me into your mouth," he says, his voice firm and authoritative.

Your heart is racing as you obey. He brings it up to your lips, and your tongue darts out to lick the tip. You can taste the hint of salt and musk, and you find yourself growing aroused again. You open your mouth wide to accommodate his size. He tastes so good, so intense, and you can't get enough. You begin to move your head, your mouth sliding up and down his shaft. Joel gasps, his hips bucking up towards you.

Suddenly he grabs your hair and holds his cock to the hilt, filing up your entire throat, blocking your airway. You try to gasp for breath as Joel holds you down on his large throbbing cock but it's no use. Your head is swimming with pleasure and arousal, and you're not sure if you can take anymore. Just then Joel releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to breathe again. You take the opportunity to pull away, gasping for air. Joel smirks down at you. "Such a good little slut for daddy already," he says, his voice full of praise. "Daddy wants to see more. Show me how much you want me."

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation as Joel pulls away and undoes your restraints. When he's back on the bed, you take him back into your mouth, your hands roaming his beautiful, full thighs. You begin to suck and lick at his cock, your tongue exploring every inch of him. You can hear Joel growing more aroused, his breaths coming in short gasps.

You feel a hand on the back of your head, guiding you. Joel is thrusting into your mouth, his cock sliding in and out. You moan around him, your hands reaching up to cup his balls. He's tensing, his hips bucking harder with each thrust. Suddenly, he lets out the most primal groan you've ever heard, his cock swells in your mouth. He thrusts into you one more time before coming. You can feel his warm come filling your mouth, and you swallow it down eagerly. Joel groans, his hips stilling as he rides out his orgasm.

You pull away, gasping for air and Joel collapses onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You can see the satisfaction on his face, and you feel proud of yourself. You've never done anything like that before, and you're not sure how you feel about it. But there's a part of you that's excited, that wants to do it again.

You're both panting heavily, your mind still reeling from the intense experience you've just shared. Joel's gaze is locked on yours, his eyes full of admiration and desire. "You were amazing, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I can't wait to show you more." A wave of excitement washes over you as Joel reaches out and gently strokes your cheek, his fingers lingering against your skin. "I want to make this arrangement work, darlin," he says, his voice soft and earnest. "But I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons."

Your heart races as you consider his words. You know what he's asking, and you're not sure if you're ready for the level of intimacy and commitment this arrangement requires. But at the same time, you can't deny the excitement coursing through your veins, the thrill of being desired and pursued by someone like Joel. You nod, your heart racing with both excitement and trepidation. "I think I'm ready to accept your condition," you say, your voice low and hesitant. "But I need to know that you're in this for the right reasons, too."

Joel's eyes meet yours, his gaze intense and serious. "I promise you, I want nothing more than to care for and support you, both financially and emotionally," he says firmly. "And I expect the same companionship in return."

You take a deep breath, your mind racing with the implications of your decision. But there's a part of you that's eager to explore this new world, to find out what it means to be truly desired and cared for by someone like Joel.

"Okay," you finally say, your voice full of resolution. "I want to make this arrangement work too."

Joel's face breaks into a smile, his eyes filled with relief and joy. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice full of gratitude. "I'm going to make sure you never regret this decision."

---

Thanks for reading ❤️ let me know if you'd like more from these two

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #daddy!joel miller #sugardaddy!joel miller

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blindedguilt · 2 years

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//me @ me reconsidering the 1.3 verse for the sibs once again

#||OOC||#{/OKAY SO}#{/im gonna ramble about it here and why its VERY tempting but also i dont think itll work too well lol}#{/First off: I don't mean to be a Lukhege favouritist. he just happens to be a Guy i Think About a lot more bc i can do a lot with him lmao}#{/BUT.}#{/okay so like given luke's the one who was most loyal to the union of the sibs he was teetering on outright betrayal of his bros}#{/given that a LOT of his char in 1.3 is mainly focused around 'loyalty to the source that can better keep you alive' on both a conscious}#{/and subconscious level; i thought; 'hey! it would be really interesting if he could explore that after having the deaths of his brothers'}#{/'causing his faith in their beliefs and that stability to be VERY shaken'}#{/and basically; like... 1.3 is IMPLIED to have taken place over 2-3 years but that sounds... REASONABLE; but a bit too brow-raising bc like #{/holy shit}#{/its honestly around 4-5 years imHo}#{/that's beside the point though; kinda; but basically the point is that luke's loyalty to the union has allowed him to get by death on}#{/VERY feeble ground; like on-the-edge-of-his-life-and-given-last-minute-kinda-reluctant-mercy-by-a-stranger type ground}#{/Granted he's fucking scared out of his wits at what the Union AND anti-Allies can do; and ofc no matter his quarrels having (most) your}#{/family killed isn't exactly a great show of trust. BUT he managed to get off 'easy' given... he's loyal?}#{/loyal enough; anyways; but being brothers with a traitor who started this whole mess isn't the best look on your portfolio.}#{/but even so; he's given a second chance and grows up under the union; and while he's skilled enough and agrees with them whole-heartedly}#{/deep down he's having trouble growing aware of how scared he is under it all and is trying to figure out whats genuine and what's for}#{/survival. he'd be around maybe 15-16; 17?? around here?? i'll have to think IF i go through with it which... i dont think i will tbh}#{/its VERY fun for character exploration but i've shown enough luke favouritism lately lmao; not to mention I'm not sure if it fits well}#{/ENOUGH with the themes/tones of 1.3. ive always hated seeing that with others and i hate it in my own work; not gonna start now lmao}#{/anyways; i'll think about it. if you guys have any thoughts i'd love to hear because i am CONFLICTED. i NEED feedback like please}

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bellaveux · 8 months

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BETWEEN THE PAGES | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: college au! fluff, smut

summary: professor maximoff asks you out on a date.

content warnings: MINORS DNI! fluff, smut, college au!, unspecified age gap, professor!wanda, student!reader, bit of alcohol consumption, smut; service top!wanda, power bottom!reader kinda, making out, marking, fingering and oral (r! receiving), overstimulation, little bit of a praise kink

word count: 9.5k

note: i’ve been meaning to write another professor!wanda and black cat!reader fic so wrote this as kind of a prequel to AFTER CLASS but it’s long overdue lol. i hope u like it!

You always came to class early. That was the first thing she noticed about you. But, there was something about the way you entered her lecture hall for the first time, sitting just a few rows away from her desk, close enough for her to see you without anyone getting in the way. It was something about you that was so endearing. She just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about you that made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster than it typically does. Usually dressed in a skirt that gracefully swayed with each step and a cozy sweater that hugged your figure, you never failed to greet her with a shy smile each day you entered the room, and each time she swooned. Too cute. It was like that for the first few months: watching the door patiently to see when you would walk in, stealing glances your way when you were seated in front of her as she taught, or occasionally looking over the book she was reading while you were taking a test, reading a book, or working on notes. She couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that you were not only beautiful but smart, too. Every test, assignment, and project she had given out, you nailed them with ease, almost like you'd already mastered the subject prior to her teachings. Perfect was what you were. She thought about it every day.

As each day passed, Wanda always looked forward to the days when you would enter her class. And she wasn’t trying to be a creep about it in any way, but she couldn’t help but look… and wonder. She wondered about what you were like outside of her class, if you were just as reserved and quiet as you were in here or if you were bubbly and talked a lot, and what your voice sounded like. You were quiet. And it wasn’t a quality that she didn’t like at all; in fact, it only made her more intrigued, like you were a mystery that she wanted to solve. In the quiet moments, when the world slowed down, her thoughts would invariably drift to you—your earnest gaze, your subtle smiles, the way your eyes seemed to light up the room.

But despite the elation of her thoughts of you, she makes sure to remind herself why you were here in the first place: you were her student. And for your professor to have such thoughts about one of her students, it was wrong. She knew this from the beginning. But try as she might to suppress her emotions, Wanda found herself captivated by your presence anyway.

And she really tried, to be fair. She tried to ignore her thoughts of you in her head, but she could only do so much. In the end, she couldn’t resist asking you to meet her after class during her office hours. She’d try multiple times to find the most credible excuse to get you to stay, and usually, she’d opt for subjects regarding your work and even ask you if you were interested in being a teacher’s assistant. Who in their right mind would decline that offer? You’d get paid on top of being alone in the same room with your favorite professor—the, despite her intimidating looks, easygoing professor that you had been fond of since day one. In fact, everyone liked her. Most of the students thought she was hot anyway, which you had to agree on as well.

The work she had you do was simple, for the most part. Grading papers and organizing paperwork and files for her were the most common tasks she gave you. Eventually she had you read a few essays and reports, asking you to judge how well they were written. Wanda thought of it as a learning experience—to read, collect your thoughts, elaborate, and then discuss with you on that same subject. It was a little nerve-racking, to say the least, but really, you enjoyed every second you spent with this professor. Especially since she was so nice to you.

And you’d be lying if you said you had never noticed her lingering eyes on you on several occasions. Sometimes she stands behind your seat and leans over to see your assignments, and you can smell her sweet perfume and feel her breath against the top of your head. Then, you’d be lying a second time if you said it didn’t make your stomach flutter each time she got close to you.

Of course, with the quiet moments you shared together each week, you began to notice some things you'd never noticed before: how she's unable to get to work without a hot cup of tea using that old, faded, and chipped mug that the university gave her a couple years ago, how she spends an extra few minutes in her office at the end of each day because she always misplaces her ID card, or how she constantly has her nose stuck in a book—a poetry book you’d often see, when she wasn’t reading those one of those meaty, mind-bending volumes.

And as time went by, you also began to notice more and more the way she would look at you. It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to her stares. You could see clearly when her eyes would linger a little longer than necessary, occasionally catching the flicker of a smile that your professor seemed to suppress. It was as if you had developed a sixth sense for each time her demeanor shifted or her eyes would trace over you, just as she was doing now.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" You say, your voice coming out smoothly, cutting through the quietness that filled the room.

"Yes, I’m fine." Wanda cleared her throat and turned away from you, her eyes darting back to the book she was supposedly reading. "It’s, um... I’m just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in your thoughts or lost in trying not to stare too obviously?"

Your professor’s eyebrows twitched upwards, your question pinking her cheeks as she turned the page of her book mindlessly while attempting to hide her smile. "I assure you, (Y/n). This book is… intense."

"Intense?" You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by her excuse, as your eyes traced the cover of her book. "Hmmm, The Book of Nature… William Wordsworth?"

Wanda skimmed through the pages of her book and cleared her throat for the second time, "It's a deep exploration of... um, philosophical concepts. Quite thought-provoking, really."

"Philosophical concepts?" You repeated with a sly smile playing lightly at your lips. "Are you sure that’s what it’s about? If I remember correctly, Wordsworth is a poet, right? And you look pretty relaxed for someone who’s reading about some intense philosophical poetry."

"Well, I think philosophical debates can be strangely soothing sometimes," she told you with a chuckle, slowly making her way out of the nervous state she was in just a moment ago.

"Really? I mean, I love poetry, but that’s quite the intellectual balance you’ve got there."

"Yeah," she breathed, her confidence seemingly flowing from her body right in front of your eyes as she used a finger to adjust the collar of her button-up. "And speaking of balance, how do you manage to keep your work in check while being so captivatingly distracting?"

The blush that paints your cheeks presents itself much more quickly than you could’ve imagined. It was adorable. Managing to turn away from her this time, you avoid her eyes as yours land back down on the papers that were set in front of you, completely forgotten while being under your professor’s gaze. You could practically feel the smile on her face as she watched your every movement. Wanda pulled her office chair closer to yours, where you had brought an extra chair up to her desk as you worked. She set her book down softly, mindlessly leaning in closer and closer to your face as her eyes kept darting between your eyes and those delicious-looking lips of yours. Her tongue dragged itself along the bottom of her lip subconsciously as she stared at you, not even hiding her intentions this time.

"You make it awfully hard to concentrate, (Y/n)," she continued as her eyes traced over the contours of your face, down to the skin of your neck as it strained slightly underneath the collar of your sweater. "I find it rather difficult to stay focused when you’re sitting in front of me."

"Um, Professor… I think we should…" With a flustered smile and stern eyes, you motioned over to the clock right by the door, notifying her that her time with you was nearly up.

Wanda only smiled before speaking again, nodding her head as she leaned back slowly to glance over to check the time, "Of course. Do carry on with your student duties, Miss (L/n)."

To be honest, it’s the first time she has heard you talk so much. Your voice was delicate and smooth, a voice that she wanted to keep hearing over and over again. Talking to you was something she wanted more of. She was quite smug, thinking about how all the rest of the students who admired you for your intelligence and work ethic didn’t get to talk with you as much as she did or spend time with you as much as she did.

A triumphant warmth spread through Wanda's chest as she turned back to read her book. Successfully making you flustered had ignited a sense of giddiness she hadn't felt in a while. But, a calm smile played on her lips, a facade she effortlessly maintained to match your demeanor, masking the happiness that bubbled within her. It’s evident throughout the days, where fragments of her infatuation for you are sprinkled into every moment you spend together. In those moments, she loved everything about you—from the way you worked and focused on your tasks, to the way your voice sounded despite not talking all that much, to the way you furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes stumbled upon something that confused you, or when your lips would curve into that pretty smile she loved to see so much.

Eventually, Wanda came to terms with her feelings rather quickly, but made no move to pursue them just yet. For you to be her lover was something that was not allowed, especially in her profession. She’d also still have to tackle the subject of whether or not you harbored even the slightest similarity about whether you had the same interest as she did for you. During moments where she would sit alone in her office or at home, she’d often let her mind drift off to the thought of you and how she would treat you if she were able to call you hers. Gifts like flowers, books, or jewelry would gladly be given as attempts to make you happy. She’d give you flowers every day if it allowed her to see that smile of yours for even just one second.

The two of you spend the rest of the semester filled with mindless flirting and grading essays, projects, and assignments, all while Wanda reads most of the time, and by reading, you mean she skims over a couple pages and spends the next few minutes admiring the beauty that is you before her. And sometimes, she lets her mind wander just as her eyes do, down to the skin of your thighs underneath those black tights, wondering how it would feel to have her hands all over your legs. She wonders how you would sound, moaning her name as you give her the sweet taste of heaven. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your mind was occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your frame and the way her mouth waters at the sight. It takes everything in her to keep her composure and not pull you into her private office and have her way with you.

She wants to do this correctly, of course. She wants you to want it, too. Though, it may seem like you return her advances and all the rest of her flirty remarks, she wants to make sure it’s something you are sure of.

So, she asks. And she starts by giving you a gift.

"Shakespeare?" You questioned curiously, running a finger along the spine of the book as a shy smile slowly etched its way onto your face. "I didn’t really take you for a romantic, Professor."

She had given you a gift before you were able to step away so soon from her and her class room. The book—The Sonnets by William Shakespeare—rested neatly in the palm of your hand as Wanda watched you inspect it with eager curiosity. You had mentioned your love of poetry once, and with her own collection sitting in the comfort of her own home, she decided to give you one of the books that she loved so much. It was romantic and a tad bit cliché, she’d have to admit, but to make you happy just as you did for her was the only thing she wanted from this.

Wanda brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, her eyes darting down to the book in your hand, "Well, I-I appreciate the beauty in romance, yes."

"Thank you for this. I’ll make sure to read it over break," you say, holding the book tightly between your chest and your arm before turning to make your way out of the door. "See you next semester."

Wanda had pondered it, thinking how long the two weeks of winter break would feel with you away from her. The weekends already felt like too long of a wait before Monday came around—the first day of each week when you stepped foot in her class. She looked forward to every day because of you and loved thinking about you on the weekends, then she’d repeat it all over again. But, two weeks. Two whole weeks without seeing that pretty face of yours or hearing that quiet, pretty voice of yours—it sounded dreadful.

"(Y/n)?" She called out to you before you could step out of her empty lecture hall. "Can you stay for a bit? I have something to ask."

She asked you out to dinner in the next few minutes after going on a quite adorable ramble about her being so enamored by you that she couldn’t help but ignore her own boundaries as your professor and ask you out on a date. She was confident but, at the same time, so anxious to hear what you had to say about it. The stare you gave her after her little speech was enough to make her want to dig a hole so deep into the earth and crawl into it so that she’d never be able to see the light of embarrassment. Wanda watched as you clutched the book she gave you tightly in your arms. By this point, she was so sure you’d turn her down given how long you were taking to answer.

Of course, when you answered, she couldn’t process it correctly for the first few seconds, but as soon as she did, her eyes lit up just as brightly as the sun on a clear day. The smile she was biting back was contagious, making you roll your eyes and smile back as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around you. And for a moment, you even thought as if you could imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind her in excitement. You both agreed on next Friday night at eight in the evening, when she would pick you up, take you out to a nice restaurant, and treat you like a queen. You deserved a lovely evening out, and Wanda couldn’t wait to share it with you.

As she went about her daily tasks leading up to that Friday, an uncontainable excitement welled up within her, and she couldn't help but steal moments to envision the evening ahead, leaning back in her office chair to imagine the upcoming night with a dreamy smile on her face, the prospect of sharing dinner and conversation with you filling her mind. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what you’d wear on that night, wondering how even prettier you would seem so close next to her, wondering how your hand would fit in hers, and wondering if you’d let her steal a kiss or two, or maybe, if she was lucky, even more. And god, she prayed for all of the luck to be on her side for even just one night.

When Friday came, Wanda rushed home from her office at the university to get ready before she would drive to pick you up at the address you had emailed her—she forgot to ask where you lived, but before she could ask, you had emailed her your address a couple hours earlier. She smiled at the thought, being so excited for the date that she forgot to ask one of the most important questions. Wanda settled on wearing an all-black suit, one of her favorites, and made sure to smooth out every wrinkle with a precise touch, each movement revealing the anticipation bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She knew that your choice of attire was a mystery, and her all-black ensemble was a versatile canvas, ready to complement whatever you had in mind.

But, fuck, when she saw you—God, she was just in pure awe at the sight of you.

Wanda arrived a little bit early, the anticipation of your dinner date bubbling within her. She parked her car outside of your apartment building and leaned against it, one foot casually crossing over the other. She glanced at her watch, checking the time, but her heart raced with a different kind of countdown. As the moments passed, Wanda’s excitement only grew. But when you finally emerged from the building, the sight that greeted Wanda left her speechless. The dress you wore wrapped around your frame perfectly, the silky fabric resting on your soft curves, along with a daring slit that ran up your thigh, revealing a glimpse of your leg with each step you took, and it drove her absolutely crazy. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at you; the sight of your shy smile made her heart race even faster.

Fuck, she wanted to say. And for a moment, she struggled to find her words, but not less than a second later, she managed to regain her composure, a smitten grin forming on her lips, "You look beautiful, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Professor," you replied, smiling innocently up into her eyes in a way that drove her insane. "You’re looking pretty amazing as well."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at your compliment, but she was still spellbound by the stunning vision before her. She offered her arm to you and walked with you towards the car, opening the car door for you. But, she couldn't shake the image of that tantalizing slit in your dress; the glimpse of your leg driving her senses into overdrive.

Throughout the night, Wanda found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away from that slit in your dress. The subtle but alluring glimpse of your skin had cast a spell on her, igniting a fire of desire and fascination that she struggled to contain. Each moment she spent with you, Wanda's mind wandered, and she’d stumble on her words as she spoke, all because of her thoughts returning again and again to the sight that had driven her senses wild earlier. She couldn't help but steal glances at that tantalizing slit in your dress whenever you shifted or crossed your legs, her heart racing each time her eyes traced the path upward. And every now and then, you would catch Wanda's lingering gaze, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You seemed to relish the effect your attire had on your professor, your confidence growing as the evening progressed.

The date was going splendidly, with you and Wanda engaging in lively conversations, sharing stories, and relishing each other's company. You laughed together, savored delicious meals, and exchanged meaningful glances that hinted at your growing connection. Both of you were having a great time, enjoying the chemistry and camaraderie that seemed to come so naturally. However, your dress, still with its tantalizing slit, had become a magnetic force that Wanda found impossible to resist. It was as if her mind had been spellbound, repeatedly drawn back to that alluring detail with every glance in your direction. While you spoke passionately about your love for literature and your dreams, Wanda tried her best to maintain eye contact and stay engaged in the conversation. But time and again, her gaze would wander, trailing along the path of that tempting slit.

She stared all night, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingertips against your soft skin, wondering how you’d look when you slip out of your dress slowly, wondering how you’d sound—and the precious imagery alone caused all higher brain function to abandon her.

As the night continued, Wanda couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness. Your presence was intoxicating, and your smile was a beacon that lit up the evening. It was a feeling she had longed for—the joy of being in the company of someone who not only understood her intellectually but also stirred something deeper within her. You were perfect. So perfect. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda was proud to have even come this far with you and wondered if you’d allow her the chance to take you out for a second time. She would be glad, too. God, she prayed you’d want to.

Dinner ended sooner than both of you would have liked. Wanda found herself lost in the sight of you the whole night, wishing she could linger in the moment a little while longer. And the idea of taking you home felt like an interruption to a masterpiece still in progress. She held your hand as she walked with you slowly down the path back to her car, which was parked a few ways away for this very reason.

But there was one thing Wanda couldn’t get off of her mind as she led you inside her car and started the drive back to your apartment—your lips. She wanted so badly, more than anything, to kiss you. Those lips that had been speaking to her for the entire night—she wanted to taste them and feel them against hers. With every passing streetlight, the desire to lean over and capture your lips at every red light only grew stronger. Her heart raced, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel every time she thought about it. The desire to taste the sweetness of your lips was undeniable. Yet, she hesitated. The night had been so perfect, and she didn't want to rush things.

"Thank you for tonight, Professor," you softly as soon as the car came to a slow stop in front of your building. "I had a wonderful time."

"Well, it’s not every day I get to have dinner with someone as beautiful as you," Wanda said, turning her head to face you as her hand gripped the steering wheel.

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you, Professor?" You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the laugh that almost spilled from your mouth.

Wanda grinned from ear to ear and glanced at the street in front of her for only a moment, "I mean, only when it’s the truth—"

Mid-sentence, just as Wanda spoke, you leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, maybe a tad bit close to the corner of her lips. It was a sudden, tender gesture that caught Wanda completely off guard, making her grip tighten around the gear shift of the car. Then, you gently place your soft hand on top of hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and affection. You don’t miss the way her ears turned red as you pulled away from her face.

Eventually, Wanda found her voice, though it was tinged with surprise as she stammered out, "Well, that was... unexpected."

In her mind, truthfully, she wanted to ask you to do it again and again and again. Maybe she’d ask for you to kiss her lips next time, but she’d never let you go off to do anything else.

"I think you’re too much of a flatterer," you chuckled softly, your fingers gently tracing the outline of Wanda's hand on the center console. "Do you say that to all of your students, Professor?"

Still slightly stunned from the tiny kiss, Wanda turned to face you. Her usual composure had been momentarily shattered by the feeling of your lips against her skin, and she met your eyes with a genuine, heartfelt sincerity, "No… just you."

The words slipped out of her mouth, unfiltered and genuine, carrying with them the depth of her feelings. In that moment, Wanda realized that her attraction to you was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn't just casual flirting with someone who she thought was pretty, as she did in the beginning; it was something deeper, something that had taken her by surprise the longer she had gotten to know you. Wanda's heart continued to race as she watched your playful expression soften, replaced by a warm and genuine smile.

"Do you want to come in, Professor?"

Wanda, still feeling the electrifying effects of the way your lips felt, faltered once more. The idea of spending more time with you was undeniably tempting, but she knew that if she continued this evening further, it would require every ounce of her self-control. Her hands ached to touch you, to run them along your waist and hips, and she longed to press her lips against yours over and over again. The dress you wore was not much help either; her eyes were always glancing down to that slit that showed off the soft skin of your leg. In her mind, a hundred affirmations echoed, each one urging her to say yes. So, she did.

You led her towards your apartment, hand in hand, walking down the softly lit halls of the building in a happy, expectant silence. Although she tried to hide it, Wanda could feel her own excitement building to an almost unbearable level. Her heart raced, and her breaths came a touch quicker as you led her to your place, the feeling of your hand in hers setting her skin on fire. When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys with one hand, your other still firmly clasped with Wanda's. Your movements were deliberate, yet there was an undeniable excitement radiating from you, a subtle telltale sign that you, too, were looking forward to what lay ahead.

A sense of comfort washed over Wanda as she stepped inside, the atmosphere of your warm apartment enveloping her as she followed you in. She watched your hips as you walked in front of her, her cheeks and ears reddening at the sight once more. Your space was also thoughtfully decorated, exuding a lived-in charm that made it feel like home.

"I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually tidier, I promise," you tell her, placing your bag gently on the counter in the kitchen before turning back to look at her. "I honestly wasn’t planning on inviting you in yet, but… I don’t know; I guess I couldn’t help myself."

Wanda, however, didn't seem the least bit bothered. Her warm smile remained unwavering, and she looked around with genuine appreciation. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands now stuffed into the pockets of her pants, coolly leaning against the wall, "No, I don’t mind it. And it’s not messy at all. It’s a lovely home."

Her eyes roamed over your cozy living room with its soft, inviting couch, adorned with a few well-placed cushions. The warm glow of dimmed lamps bathed the room in a soft, comforting light. Bookshelves lined one wall, their shelves cradling an eclectic collection of literature, each book seeming to hold a story of its own. The scent of a vanilla-scented candle lingered in the air. It was a cozy, lived-in scent that made Wanda feel instantly at ease—a reflection of you and everything you loved. And on your coffee table, amidst your own collection of books, she saw the one she had given you. It lay there, open and well-loved, with pages slightly ruffled and a bookmark placed near the end. In no way would Wanda have minded the mess at all, not when she was surrounded by the tokens of you and your life.

"I’m almost done with it," Wanda heard you say as she looked around your apartment. "The sonnets are really beautiful. I think I’m enjoying it better than his plays."

The professor raised an eyebrow at your claim, "Bold statement, (Y/n)… But I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

You smiled at her as you moved to get two glasses and a bottle of wine that you’ve been saving for special occasions, and this was definitely one of them. But when you turned to look back at Wanda, her gaze, once warm and affectionate, had intensified with desire and lust as she watched you pour the wine into the glasses. Her eyes held an unmistakable hunger, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world, and it didn't go unnoticed. Wanda's stare was so intense and filled with longing that it seemed to sear through you like a fiery caress. It made your heart race, and your breaths quickened as you tried to maintain your composure. With that look in your eye, you knew this night was about to get even more special.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there, Professor?" You asked with a smirk that made Wanda weak in her knees.

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the topic of her own thoughts. She made her way towards you as you slowly lifted the wine glass to your lips. And although you were occasionally flustered by her intense gaze, you had a reputation for your own brand of composed charm. Wanda approached the counter where the wine glasses were placed, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of a glass as she lifted it herself. Her movements were fluid and sensual, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame. But this time, when she turned to face you, she found herself locked in a gaze that mirrored her own desire. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, an intensity that matched Wanda's in every way—your look was a silent challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

You brought the wineglass to your lips, and the woman in front of you watched with a heightened sense of awareness, her gaze locked onto the way your lips delicately touched the rim of the glass. Your soft and inviting lips seemed to beckon Wanda like an irresistible temptation. They glistened with the remnants of the wine, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to taste those lips and feel their softness against her own. She wondered how your lips would feel, how they would respond to her touch, and how you’d moan into her mouth. And she couldn’t get her mind off of it.

"Professor," you spoke, setting your glass down on the counter before stepping close in front of her. "I think… you’re thinking too much."

Wanda’s anticipation was palpable, and she held her breath as you closed the distance between the two of you, her heart pounding in her chest. As you stood so close, your breaths nearly mingling, you sensed that she was still overthinking the moment. And finally, in a bold move, your hands reached out, gently tugging on her suit jacket, pulling her even closer. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine as your lips met hers in a deep kiss. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as your lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss with a soft groan, moaning at the sweetness of your lips that she had been waiting all night to feel.

You led her to your bedroom with your lips never leaving hers and your arm around her neck while your other hand pulled her jacket roughly off her shoulders. A laugh bubbles against your mouth as you trip over the rug on the way to your room, but Wanda catches you with a chuckle, her hands at your waist holding you against her. Your lips fit so perfectly against hers, and the taste of you on her tongue unlocked all of the desires she had been trying to keep at bay. All she could think about was you. Mere seconds have gone by when your back finally meets the soft comfort of your bed, all while Wanda explores your mouth with her tongue. She indulges herself in the taste of you and tugs desperately at your dress, just as you tried to undo her belt, albeit poorly. The gasp you let out when Wanda moved her head down to your neck, sucking, licking, and nipping at your sensitive skin, distracted you from your current task, leaving her belt loosely unbuckled.

"Mmh, Professor…" Your bedroom was painted with your needy moans and Wanda’s soft grunts as she pressed herself against you, your body pressed in between her and the mattress.

"Wanda," she murmured into your neck, leaving marks on your skin as her mouth explored. "You can call me Wanda… Please."

You smiled and ran your hand through her hair, urging her to look at you and bring her face close to yours just for you to say her name in the sultriest way that made the woman in front of you physically stutter, "Wanda."

Wanda swallows the lump in her throat, dazed as she watches your lips as you spoke out her name. She parted her lips, unaware of the hazy look in her eyes as she stared at you. Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she subconsciously leaned in to press another kiss to your sweet mouth, but you cupped her face with a soft yet commanding touch before she could close the distance. Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as your gentle fingers caressed her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as your touch lingered, trailing slowly from her face, down her neck, and over her collarbone. Your hands moved with deliberate tenderness, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt one button at a time.

And she could only watch; her eyes locked onto your hands as if they were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Your movements were slow, each button releasing its hold on the fabric with a soft, tantalizing pop. Wanda, lost in the sensations of your touch, was in a daze once again. Her eyes remained fixed on your hands, watching as they worked their way down, unbuttoning her shirt one by one. Your fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. With the last button undone, you gently slid Wanda's shirt off her shoulders, and it slipped down her arms, a whisper of fabric gliding to the floor. You couldn’t help but smile at her, hovering over you with a black bra on, her pants unbuckled, and her hair tousled from all of the making out. God, was she beautiful.

And Wanda thought the same thing about you, if not more. You still had your dress on, and the way you spread your legs a bit so she could settle comfortably on top of you did nothing but make her feral. Wanda’s mouth practically watered at the sight of your exposed skin. With a gentle and curious hand, her fingers danced along the skin of your leg, slipping under that same tantalizing slit that had been teasing her the whole night. She kissed your chest as she did so, but with the way you were squirming underneath her, Wanda couldn’t get the thought of your hot, naked, trampling body out of her head. And she could feel it—fuck, that lacy underwear you were wearing—as if you had planned this all along. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"You can take my clothes off for me," you whispered lowly into her ear, and for a moment, Wanda froze at your words.

Soon enough, her hands started pulling roughly at every piece of fabric she could get her hands on. She needed to see you. She was going to lose it if she didn’t see you. And despite how rough her hands were, Wanda carefully slipped the dress off of your body, undoing its zipper in a way you almost didn’t notice. But all caution was thrown out the window when Wanda finally laid eyes on your half-naked body. It was black lace underwear that you were sporting, and all she could think about was how stunning you looked. She sat there for a while, frozen and heated, her eyes raking over every inch of your body. To think that you were wearing this underneath that goddamn dress this whole time, god, it makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"I’m getting a bit cold here, Professor," you smirk, your fingers trailing up her pants, finally meeting her undone belt once again. "Warm me up a little?"

"Yes ma’am," Wanda breathed out and nodded, her hand ghosting over your skin once more as you opened your arms and urged her to come closer—the sight causing her to melt and a question she didn’t even think twice about spilling from her mouth. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

Almost immediately, Wanda leaned down and pressed her face against your body, littering soft and hot kisses along your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, your collarbones, and to your neck. She would lick, suck, and kiss all over again, marking your skin with the prettiest bruises. You almost forget to answer her question when she starts kissing you, but she pleaded once more. To let her do whatever she wanted, just say the word, and she’ll make sure to make you feel so fucking good.

"Please," she begged you, whining only slightly as she kissed your neck. "Please, (Y/n). Please—I'll do anything, I—"

"Touch me there," you said, slipping your hand into hers to lead it down to your warm, clothed center. "Right there, Wanda."

You let her fingers press against the fabric, feeling how undeniably soaked you were. Without a second thought, Wanda immediately circles your clothed pussy with the pads of her fingers, just getting lost in the feeling of your wet heat. Her jaw slowly drops as she watches her own fingers play with your cunt. She pressed even harder the moment she finds your clit underneath the thin fabric and when you moaned, arching your back slightly in the process, she lost all self-control. You don’t even get a second to catch your breath as Wanda immediately starts clawing at your underwear, pulling your bra off of your chest in the quickest way possible. And, when she moved her hands back to your panties to uncover the very treasure she was yearning for, you suddenly heard an unmistakable sound—the sound of fabric tearing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Wanda stared at the torn piece of underwear in her hands, "Did you just—"

"I’m sorry." Then she kissed you to give you something else to think about other than the fact that she just ripped your precious, laced underwear.

"You ripped—"

She kissed you again, murmuring against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby."

"That was expensive, you know. I just got it last week," you said, rolling your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck as she continued to kiss your skin all over again. And it was working—when you felt her lips kissing you and sucking on you, you could barely think about anything else.

The corner of Wanda’s lips turned upward at the thought of you buying lingerie just for her, "I said, I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one, I promise… But, right now, I really want to fuck you. I want to fuck you until you can't move. Let me make you feel better, baby? Please."

Wanda's plea hung in the air, her voice a desperate whisper filled with desire. When she turned to look back at you, she did so with an intensity that made your heart race even faster. Already blushing from the heat of the moment, you felt your cheeks grow even hotter and hotter. Your gaze locked onto Wanda's lidded eyes, and you could see clear as day the raw need inside of them.

Your lips parted, and a deep, crimson blush spread across your cheeks. With a soft voice, almost breathless, you finally gave in, "You’re lucky I like you, Professor."

You were going to say more, but you couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips when Wanda dips two fingers into your pussy without any warning. She could feel you tense up around her waist, and your hands moved to grip her biceps as she started pumping into you at a slow pace, easing her way up to a faster one. Wanda’s jaw dropped once again, moaning as she felt just how tight, warm, and wet you were around her fingers. She could feel every sliver of you, your spongy walls wrapping around her digits, and you gasping right into her ear. God, it was so perfect. You are so perfect. She could fuck you like this forever.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, looking up at you with lidded eyes while her fingers continued to make their way in and out, in and out.

"Yes, right there," you nod quickly, moaning in her ear as your grip on her arms got tighter, trying to hold on for dear life as Wanda gradually got faster and faster. "You feel so good inside of me, Wanda. So good—ah!"

The woman reveled in your praise, unable to hold back her own moans as she watched her fingers, glistening with your slick, sink deeper and deeper.

"You’re sucking my fingers in, baby." And you truly were. Her fingers are buried deep in your pussy, and almost immediately, she finds that weak, spongy spot inside of you and begins to torture that button. With your moans getting pounder and louder, she penetrates deep against it, groaning into your neck as she listens to the music of your moans and whimpers.

After a moment of getting lost in the heavenly sounds that were spilling from your mouth, Wanda pulls your leg over to your chest, pumping her fingers in and out at a much faster pace than before. With her digits accelerating in speed, your body jolts and your moans go up an octave as Wanda continued to fuck her fingers into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling her press against that sweet spot inside your pussy over and over again, building up to the climax she had been working diligently to witness. And finally, the band holding you together finally breaks, your body succumbing to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. Wetness pools all over her hand, and your pussy clenches tightly around her fingers. Wanda melts at the sight of your trembling body and shaky legs as your hands grip onto her biceps even harder, trying to hold on as she helped you ride out your climax.

When you calmed down, legs trembling against her, Wanda carefully pulled her fingers out of you with a squelch. She stared down in awe at your wetness, glistening all over her fingers and dripping down her hand. With her lips parted and eyes glued, you could not help but smile as you were catching your breath, still a bit hazy from the orgasm she had just given you. When you felt like the professor was taking a bit longer than expected, you reached down and gently brought her hand close to your face, her eyes following as you did so. And when you opened your mouth, you dragged your tongue slowly over the length of her fingers, and all Wanda had the strength to do was watch.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed out as you licked her hand clean of your essence.

You pulled Wanda in by the neck to kiss her, and she groaned into your mouth when she tasted your juices on your tongue—the taste of how good she made you feel. After pulling away to catch your breath once more, Wanda made her way back down again, leaving kisses along your skin as she traveled to the heavenly space between your gorgeous legs. And with mere inches away, she could smell you, smell the taste of you, and it lingered on her tongue, only making her yearn for more. The scent of you floods her senses, and she leans in with lidded eyes, lost in the thought of having you come right into her mouth. God, she wanted it—she needed it.

She was so close—her mouth was so close. You were right there, all ready in her mind for the grand meal she was about to indulge herself in. And with a soft but firm hand holding her head back by her hair, you stopped her.

"Not yet," you told her, shaking your head slightly as your fingers threaded through her hair.

"What?" Wanda gives you another dazed look, confused and almost frustrated with the fact that you interrupted her on her way to a heavenly meal.

"Not yet," you repeated once again, louder and clearer, with a more demanding tone. "I want you to watch me."

With her eyebrows raising in surprise, Wanda wondered what it was you had in store for her, "Watch you?"

With a teasing smile, you took your hand off of Wanda’s head, slowly dragging your fingers against the inside of your thigh, then in between, the soft pads of your fingers meeting your clit. There was nothing else Wanda could keep her eyes on except the way you pressed softly onto your clit, with another moan slipping out. Your clit was wet and slippery, coated with your juices. You could feel her heavy breath against your pussy, just centimeters away from her face, and all Wanda could do was stare. The sound of your quiet whimpers filled her ears, and it took everything inside Wanda not to dive in, face first, into your heavenly heat.

You must’ve known. You must’ve known what you were doing; keeping her desperate and begging while also checking if she’d be good and obey. And although it was hard to keep away, Wanda followed your orders and watched. With her eyes stuck to that precious button you were torturing all by yourself, she couldn’t help but pant slightly, like an obedient dog waiting for its signal to start eating.

Soon, you were getting close all over again, and Wanda was disappointed that it was not her doing. Although your moans and whimpers were more than enough to fuel her desires, waiting to touch you almost became unbearable, but she remained still, her eyes still glued to your pretty pussy as you touched yourself.

"Let me—Let me touch you," Wanda pleaded, unable to take her eyes off of the way you were rubbing your fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Please, let me help."

"N-Not yet," you said again, your body writhing more and more as each second passed.

With a groan, Wanda dropped her head down against the plush, inside part of your thighs, holding you down as you chased your own high. She kept watching with her mouth open as she resisted each and every urge in her body that told her to ignore your order and just jump right in, but she held herself back. She didn’t even know how, but she knew that once you allowed her, you’d reward her with the best meal and orgasm you could ever give her.

And just as you were about to hit your peak, you let one word slip, "Now."

Wanda finally opened her mouth and let her tongue fall. Her jaw drops as she lets her tongue travel from the bottom to the top, dragging it through your folds and swirling it messily around your clit. The taste of you was as blissful as angels singing in her mouth, as if her tastebuds had been blessed by the gods themselves. Your cries and moans rested well on Wanda’s ears, doing nothing to stop her from eating you out so fervently. A pleasured groan fell from Wanda’s muffled mouth as you tugged harshly at her hair, Her breath was hot, and your pussy had you squirming beneath her. It was heaven for Wanda. God, she’d give everything if it meant being able to live the rest of her days down here, with her head between your legs and your pussy in her mouth. She’d be set for life.

Your poor clit was already so sensitive, and Wanda was lapping at you like a thirsty dog. Your precious brain couldn’t even focus anymore, and all you could think about was Wanda’s tongue. And because of how close you were just before she started, your orgasm started to build higher and higher in a matter of seconds. Her mouth showed no remorse, and the lewd noises only made you flush deeper. With her thighs squeezing her head between your thighs, Wanda devoured you, holding you still with ease despite your constant squirming. Then, she wrapped her mouth around your clit, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until she had you screaming her name into the air as you came inside of her mouth.

And yet, she doesn’t stop.

"W-Wanda, I—"

"Not yet," she said, voice muffled as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her tongue swirling and licking every crevice in and out of your sex.

Your words die in your mouth, and you let out a squeal as she buries her tongue right into your pussy all over again, licking and swirling it inside of you as you whined about how it was too much for you to handle. But, she kept going anyway. And fuck, you felt incredible wrapped around her tongue; it drove Wanda insane. Your body was hot, trembling at the mercy of her touch, screaming out as Wanda continued to overstimulate you. She was now far from being gentle. How could she? When you had been teasing her all through the night with that slit in your dress and those eyes that were begging her to do something? Occasionally, she’d open her eyes to see you arching your back, screaming into the pillow, and it made Wanda moan against your pussy, the vibrations doing more to stimulate you.

With her eyes glued to your body as your legs tensed around her head and your stomach clenched as you moaned, Wanda whined and pushed herself further into you. Her hands were now spreading your folds open as she dragged her tongue up and down your fold before wrapping around your clit once more. Even when you finally gushed inside her mouth, she kept going, even with your entire body enveloped in shivers, as she savored each and every drop of your essence.

"I think–It’s too much—" you tried to say.

But, she just hit you with the same words all over again, "Not yet."

And she’d make you come a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth—until you couldn’t take it anymore. By the end of all of it, Wanda goes back up to your face, her heart racing faster as she sees your tear-stained cheeks and a lazy smile on your face as you try to look at her. She wipes them clean with her thumb and kisses them with her lips, using her other hand to calm your trembling body by running it along your quivering legs.

You reach out for her with a whimper, trying to grab hold of her, begging for her care as she soothes your body. Wanda smiles and re-kisses each bruise she left on you, all the way up until she makes it to your mouth. She kisses you softly and gently, and you can taste yourself right on her tongue. Nuzzling your face into her neck, Wanda pulls your body to lay on top of her, securing a tight and comforting hold on you as you began your drift to sleep.

It’s everything Wanda could have ever wanted—to be with you. It was perfect. You were perfect.

"You did so good, Wanda," you said sleepily into her skin, muffled as you spoke. "So good for me."

"I think I should be the one saying that, (Y/n)," she replied with a proud smile as she ran her hand through your hair. Eventually, her hand rested on your cheek, soothing her thumb over your skin as you began to let your eyes flutter closed at her soothing touch. "You are… so beautiful, darling… So perfect."

You almost fall asleep after a few seconds. Her touches, the feeling of her breathing, and the way her skin felt was everything you ever wanted and more. Wanda laid there with the same thought in her head, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. As she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, she couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

“I have something for you,” you say, voice rasp and groggy as you moved reach something from the drawer of your side table. “It’s nothing special… it’s just… you keep losing your card, so..”

You couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness. You had spent hours searching for the perfect gift, wanting to express you affection for Wanda in a meaningful way. Yet, when you were finally about to give it to her, you couldn't help but feel a bit shy about its simplicity.

But then, Wanda's eyes lit up with curiosity as she accepted the small box and carefully opened it. Inside, she found a cute red lanyard with a playful pattern, and her heart swelled with affection. She held it delicately in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the tiny pattern that adorned the fabric. It was a simple yet thoughtful gift, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you for choosing it.

Your shyness melted away, replaced by a radiant smile, as you watched Wanda’s joy. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that your gift had brought a smile to the professor’s face.

Wanda turned towards you, her eyes soft with emotion and her heart full. She reached out and gently cupped your cheek with her hand, her thumb tenderly brushing against your skin. With a sweet and sincere smile, Wanda leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips met like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, and for that moment, the world seemed to fade away.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda says, unable to suppress the way her lips curved upward. “Thank you.”

Then, each day as you arrived for class, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat when you saw Wanda. What caught your attention immediately was the sight of the red lanyard that Wanda wore around her neck. It didn't matter if Wanda's outfit matched the lanyard or not; it was always there, a constant presence, and a sweet reminder of the thoughtful gift you had given her. On some days, it stood out vividly against Wanda's attire, a burst of color that added charm to her ensemble. On others, it contrasted playfully, a delightful pop of red against more subdued colors. But in any case, it was always there.

Over the next few weeks, You and Wanda found yourselves in a whirlwind of newfound affection and stolen moments. In the classroom, your glances became a language of your own. Wanda would catch your eye from across the room, and a playful yet affectionate smile would curve both yours and her lips. It was as if you shared an inside joke, one that no one else in the class could comprehend. As the days went by, their desire for each other grew. They were days off of stolen kisses, lingering glances, and shared smiles that only you could fully understand.

One day, in the middle of a lecture, Wanda couldn't resist the urge any longer. She discreetly slipped out of her seat and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you slightly behind and into a closet at the back of the room, out of sight from her classmates' curious eyes. With a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye, Wanda leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. It was soft and tender, a tantalizing taste of their affection that left both of you breathless. The classroom continued with the lecture, seemingly oblivious to the hidden exchange.

Yet, for Wanda, those stolen kisses were like sweet secrets shared only between the two of you.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen #marvel #avengers x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader

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zanarkandskylines · 2 months

Text

Blast Off

『♡』 fem!reader x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ aged to 21 | friends to lovers ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

summary: your favorite metal band is in town, the same one you used to listen to with bakugo back in high school, and you decide to go to the show together! after a long week, a night out in Shibuya is exactly what you need. tags & warnings: brief violence, cursing | friends to lovers, pining, protective bakugo, fluff, first kiss a/n: bakugo would be such a fun person to go to a show with when he’s the one interested! otherwise he’d rather stay home lol ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,714 ꒱

“Yo, you ready yet, dumbass?” Bakugo shouts from your living room, impatiently tapping his foot as he’s waiting for you to finish touching up your makeup in the bathroom.

“Just a sec, Kat!” you call back as you’re leaning over the sink, cleaning up the corner of your eyeliner with a wet cloth.

“Y’don’t even need makeup, dammit!” he retorts, a backhanded compliment to get your ass moving. “Ya probably won’t even -,”

His words die in his throat as you emerge from the hallway and enter the living room.

Woah. She looks fuckin' gorgeous.

You catch him staring as you’re clipping in a pair of earrings. “What? Too much?”

He scoffs as he sneakily checks you out a second time. “Nah, you look great.”

You smile and wink at him. “Thanks, Kat. Right back at ya.”

“If some slimy fucker creeps on you, I’ll punch his lights out.”

You can’t help but snort as his comment.

The outfit you chose to wear fit the scene of the band you were seeing, one of your favorite metal bands that you two would listen to back in high school. It wasn’t too over the top, at least you didn’t think so. An all black ensemble - a thin long sleeve mesh top under your band t-shirt, tucked lazily into a pleather mini-skirt and a pair of tinted sheer tights hugging your legs. Your hair was pulled into a ponytail, a few stray pieces of hair framing your face alongside your bangs.

Bakugo wasn’t as dressed up as you were, donning a simple grey t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans with rips in the thighs and black boots. A stack of his favorite bracelets hung on his wrist and a pair of black studs adorned his ears.

“Figure out where you wanna eat?” you ask as you’re looking for your boots in the hallway closet.

“The curry place by the station. We can hop on the train into the city afterwards.”

Boots in hand, you return to the living in room and plop next to him on the couch.

“Those things could squash a damn kid,” Bakugo jokes, pointing to the platforms of your boots as you’re lacing them on your feet.

“They’re literally the same kind you wear on patrol!”

“And you’re still shorter than me with those fuckers on.”

You punch him in the arm, maybe a little too hard, to be playful. “I don’t need to be your height to kick your ass!”

“Ow, shit! Watch it, those hands are fuckin’ deadly!” he scolds, rubbing the reddening mark on his bicep.

“My bad,” you chuckle, patting him on the shoulder as an apology. “Let’s get outta here.”

“Hand it over,” Bakugo orders as you pick up the check from the table, flexing his palm toward you.

“Huh? I told you -,” you start to remind him until he cuts you off mid-explanation.

“Just ‘cause I heard ya doesn’t mean shit. Give it.” He snatches the paper and booklet with one hand while fishing his wallet out of his pocket with the other. “Stop bein’ a brat and let me pay for your damn dinner.”

“I’m not being a brat! I was just trying to treat you to dinner for once,” you say defensively.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I let you buy the tickets.”

Bakugo consistently paid whenever the two of you would grab food. It didn’t matter what it was - coffee before work, snacks from the convenience store, lunch outings, dinners in the city - he’d shove you aside and take your card, or be the one to order so you don’t have the chance to hand your card over. The few times you did get to pay for him, he immediately sent you the money back. It’s been a consistent staple in your friendship since Junior year of high school.

While leaving the curry shop, you see the train approaching at the station.

“Shit, Kat. That’s the train we need to catch to make it on time!” you utter in a panic as you grab his wrist. “C’mon!”

You arrive at the venue an hour before the show starts, giving you both enough time to get inside, grab drinks and find a perfect spot as planned.

Once inside, the two of you make your way over to the bar while the crowd was light.

“Are you at least gonna let me buy you a drink?” You tease, elbowing Bakugo in the arm.

He sighs dramatically, the tell-tale sign that he’s no longer going to fight you on it. “You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous.”

Beers in hand, you both head to the general admission area of the venue and situate yourselves near the back - not too squished between loads of people but close enough to see the stage.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” you beam, leaning against him as a token of thanks.

He throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. “Of course. Woulda been mad if ya didn’t ask me to come see the band we had on repeat together through all those study sessions and sparring matches.”

The lights begin to dim and the crowd cheers as the band takes the stage. He lets you take a step back and shift next to him, but keeps his arm around your shoulder. The two of you cheer in unison and hold up your beers for the band as they set up for their first song.

The show has been a goddamn blast! The two of you have been singing and dancing together the whole time, screaming every single lyric. Bakugo loves watching you throw your hands up and yell along with the crowd, having the time of your life and not letting anyone get in your way. It’s infectious - his grin not wavering the entire show.

“We have one more song for the night!” The lead singer announces into the mic. “It’s a special one - thanks for coming out!”

The song they begin to play is one of their slower numbers, one that you know Bakugo adored. You watched as his eyes lit up under the spotlights, taking in the moment as the band progressed through the song. You loop your arm with his, rocking back and forth in unison with the rest of the crowd.

Bakugo removes his arm from your hold to spin you around to face him, pulling you close and holding you to his chest. He gently sways with you in his arms as you embrace him, mimicking a slow dance. You can hear his heartbeat thrumming in his chest alongside the subtle vibrations of him humming to the song. Your eyes flutter closed, absorbing every ounce of love in this moment between the two of you. His hold encased you in a sense of security that you didn’t find with anyone else.

Once the song ends, the band is saying their goodbyes to the crowd as he releases his hold on you.

“I didn’t think they were gonna play that tonight,” you say, smiling up at him. “Guess we gotta buy t-shirts now!”

Bakugo laughs, shaking his head. “Matching ones?”

“It’s either that or we buy one and I constantly steal it from you.”

We?

Bakugo smirked at the suggestion.

“You steal my shit all the time, ya brat,” he teases, pinching your cheek. “I’ll buy two. Which one do y’want?”

“You pick, you have better taste than I do. I’m gonna run to the bathroom before we head out,” you say as you pat him on the shoulder before skipping off to the bathroom. He heads over to the merch table to stand in line for your t-shirts.

It’s been a good 20 minutes since you wandered off. Bakugo meanders over to the bathrooms, the t-shirts he bought for you both draped over his shoulder. He’s poking around, searching for you in the crowd as he spots your ponytail in a sea of others.

You’re talking with some guy that he doesn’t recognize. The guy slithers into your personal bubble as Bakugo stalks up behind you.

“C’mon doll, you’re fine as hell. Don't you -"

"Beat it, jackass. She's obviously not interested," Bakugo interrupts, stepping to your side.

He scoffs and takes a step back from you. "And who the hell are you?"

"Her boyfriend. Now fuck off."

Your cheeks flare at his comment - did he mean that? Or was that just to get this guy off your back?

You turn to leave as the guy slaps your ass - hard. "Have fun with this loser."

Bakugo doesn't even have time to react before your fist crashes into this guy's jaw, clocking him so hard that he stumbles to the floor. The commotion causes one of the security guards to scurry in your direction, beckoning for you to come over to him.

"Shit, we gotta go!" you yell, interlocking your fingers with Bakugo's as you bolt through the crowd and away from the guard before getting caught.

The two of you manage to escape, rushing out of the venue's exit door and into the busy Shibuya streets. You don't stop running until you round a corner and duck into an alley way, hiding from any potential security that could have tailed you and letting go of his hand.

Out of breath, you lean on to the wall and wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

"S-shit, sorry Kat, didn't mean to thrash you around like that."

He takes a second before deciding to box you up against the wall with his frame, catching you off guard. "I'm not complain'."

"Boyfriend, huh? Was that your way of asking me out?" you joke, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt.

Bakugo snickers as he's shutting his eyes, lowering his face to level with your own before your lips meet. The kiss is brief, but enough to get his point across.

"I bought matching band shirts with ya, who the fuck else would I do that shit with?"

You giggle, pulling him back in for another kiss - longer and sweeter than the previous one.

This isn't where you thought the night would end, but you're over the moon.

bakugo just couldn't resist confessing after watching you beat some dude's ass in one punch ;)

Divider by : @/saradika

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #katsuki bakugo #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #☆.rei writes

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wraithlafitte · 3 months

Text

you're no femme fatale

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: use of y/n, dubcon (mission sequence), soft dom!reader, guided masturbation, light degradation (m!receiving), stripping, begging, scratching, hair pulling, handjob, exhibitionism if you squint

word count: 3.3k

a/n: anon request here! enjoy 🖤 honestly felt like i was scraping the bottom of the barrel to keep this interesting LOL hope it's what you wanted

"No. No way in hell I'm doing that," you said, throwing up your hands and backing away from the table, littered with piles of Sam's research.

"Aw, come on, Y/N," Sam protested. "You're the only one of us that could do it."

"I am not entertaining some dirty old man for this," you snapped, snatching up a museum scan of the artifact you were supposed to steal. "We'll find another way."

"If there was another way, I'd be asking you to do that," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "This is the path of least resistance. You get in his office, slip it into your dress while he's not looking, and we'll come get you after ten minutes. That's it."

You huffed a sigh and crossed your arms.

Just then, Dean returned from his fast food run, greasy paper bags in hand. "Hey, nerds," he greeted impishly. "Grub's on."

You rolled your eyes as he plopped the bags right in the middle of Sam's papers.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Dean asked, settling himself into a chair and unwrapping a double cheeseburger.

"You would know if you had stayed to help make it," you replied annoyedly.

Dean flicked his eyebrows. "No need to get testy."

Sam sighed, deciding to intervene before things got ugly. You and Dean weren't exactly known for getting along, tolerating each other just enough to get jobs done when you had to. This was mostly due to the fact that you thought Dean was a douchebag, and he just dished back whatever you threw at him.

"The best plan we've got so far is that Y/N seduces the guy," Sam explained.

Dean snorted, almost spitting out his too-large bite of burger. "I'm sorry what?"

"I figure we'll never be able to get in there during the event, since it'll be so locked down," Sam continued. "Our best bet is getting him to let one of us in."

"Have you seen her?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and giving you a once-over. "Not exactly the seducing type."

You looked down at your current outfit. Cargo pants and a mens t-shirt topped with a utility vest and a leather bomber jacket. He had a point, although not for the reasons he thought. You could dress up, you just chose to dress practically. More pockets for knives. No, you just weren't sure you'd be able to convince the man you wanted him. Seventy-something sleazebags weren't exactly high on your to-fuck list.

"For once, I agree with Dean." You tossed the photo back onto the table. "Can we think of something else, please?"

"Yeah, as much as I'd like to see her try and pretty up to get in some old dude's pants, there's gotta be a more surefire way," Dean said with his mouth full. "Cuz you're no femme fatale," he added pointedly.

You were getting a little annoyed at his jabs. "You don't think I can do it?" you asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"Sister, I don't think you could seduce a virgin," Dean scoffed.

You turned to Sam, bristling. "That's it then. I'll do it."

"What?" Dean said loudly through his half-chewed bite.

Sam looked at you with concern. "Are you sure? Just because Dean-"

"I'm sure." You set your jaw confidently. "Let's go to the charity event."

"We're heading out to the car," Sam called through the bathroom door, where you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup.

"Be right there," you called back, surveying yourself in the mirror. Not bad, you thought, considering the last time you put on this much makeup was prom night. You had tried to go for something an old man would like: a classic red lip and smoky eye that paired pretty well with the vintage-looking slinky black satin dress you'd found at the thrift store around the corner. It went down to your ankles, showing off your heels, and had a long slit that made its way up your leg to your hip.

You threw your coat on and hurried out the door, hopping into the backseat of the Impala. Sam glanced at you in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows appreciatively, but Dean didn't spare you a second glance. You were annoyed, since half the reason you were doing this was to prove him wrong, but there would be plenty of time to show off later.

As the Impala peeled out of the hotel parking lot, you took a deep swig from the flask you kept in your coat pocket. This better work.

Neither of the boys helped you out of the car when you arrived.

"Chivalry is dead," you announced after almost stumbling onto your face getting out. You tossed your coat back into the backseat, revealing your outfit to the two hunters.

Suddenly Sam was all-too-eager to offer you his arm, and the two of you headed inside, Dean close behind. You hadn't missed the way his eyes widened when you dropped your coat, so you swung your hips a little as you walked. That'll show him.

The plan worked better than you could have hoped. The sleazy old something-inaire led you to his office, hand wrapped around your waist as you clung to his arm, pretending to laugh at his stupid sexist old man jokes.

As he clicked the heavy oak door shut, you quickly scanned the room, trying to find the artifact you came for. There. On his desk. All you had to do was grab it, and-

The old man grabbed you by the hips, pulling you flush against his body. "Where were we, sweetheart?"

Insides roiling with disgust, you turned around and placed your hands on his chest, giving him the sweetest smile you could muster. "Right here," you said cattily, batting your eyelashes as you grabbed him by the lapels and led him backwards to the desk.

Here goes nothing, you thought, and pulled the old guy in for a kiss. Trying to ignore the way his tongue dug into your mouth, you felt around behind you for the artifact.

Got it. You quickly palmed the object and broke the kiss, looking up at the old man through your lashes. Now Sam or Dean was gonna bust down the door, claiming you as his missing drunk sister.

Aaaaany minute now.

The old man smiled wolfishly and you felt his hands creeping lower, lower, until he grabbed your ass firmly, jerking you closer to him and capturing your lips again.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was not going how it was supposed to. You tried to wiggle away, but the guy was surprisingly strong for his age.

"Where you going, baby?" he asked, eyes glinting.

"I think I- I have to go," you said, aware that you were sounding a little panicked.

"You wanted this," he reminded you, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He swung you around and pushed you into the leather couch across from the desk. You tried to scramble up, but it was hard with your tight dress and the artifact still clutched in your hand, desperately being concealed, so the old man grabbed you easily by the hair, forcing you to stay down.

"Now why don't we put those pretty lips to use?"

The door swung open with a bang. The old man looked up, startled, releasing his death grip on your hair.

"There you are," came the fake-laughing voice of Dean.

"Who are you?" demanded the old man. "Get out of here!"

"Sorry man, this is my sister," Dean said, raising his hands apologetically. "She gets really hammered, acts like a slut. Gotta get her home." He helped you up, and you smiled and giggled, putting on the drunk-girl act.

Dean helped you hurry out of the room, the old man looking disappointed and angry at being cockblocked.

"Thanks," you whispered once you were down the hall and out of earshot. "What a creep."

"Please tell me you got it," Dean said darkly, weaving you through the crowd. You slipped the artifact into his suit pocket, giving it a pat for good measure.

"Didn't do that for nothing." You winked at him and pushed him away to walk the rest of the way to the car on your own two feet.

Dean stared after you, dumbfounded. He tried not to fixate on the way your hips swayed in that dress as you walked away proudly. God, that dress! It hugged your body perfectly, and Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't been eyeing you all night. His cock was semi-hard in his dress pants, an annoying reminder of just how much you'd proved him wrong.

"Come on, dickhead," you yelled out the back window of the Impala. Dean realized starkly that he had stopped in place thinking about your tits.

"Dammit," he muttered, hurrying around to the driver's seat.

The three of you piled into your hotel room to debrief from the mission. You assured the boys that you were alright from your creepy encounter with the old guy, and that stealing the artifact was worth it. The way Dean watched you raptly as you began to disrobe was not lost on you.

"I've dealt with worse in my time," you reminded them, shaking out your hair. "I'm a solo female hunter. Sleazy men hit on me literally wherever I go." You plopped down on the bed and pulled your stockings off one by one.

"As long as you're sure," Sam said, stretching and yawning. "I'm gonna head back over to our room to get some sleep. You coming, Dean?"

Dean snapped out of his fantasy. "Uh, no. I'll be there in a little bit. Gotta talk to her about something."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Just don't bite each other's head off." And with that, he was gone.

You watched Dean from the shadows of the half-lit room. When he made no move to say anything, you did. "What do you need to talk about?" you asked, knowing full well. "Gonna say sorry cuz of how wrong you were?"

Dean flicked his eyes up to yours. Where had he been looking before?

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah. You did good."

You stood and sauntered over to where he sat in a straight-backed chair by the dresser. "But that's not all, is it?" You smirked at him and looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his crotch, where a tent had begun to form.

Dean covered his bulge with his hand and pressed down, growling. "You were a little too good."

"So, what? You stayed because you want me to help with that?" you teased, coming closer.

"Yeah," Dean said roughly, standing quickly.

"No," you said bluntly, taking him by the shoulder and pushing him back into the chair.

Dean grimaced. "Why? Please," he begged, face twisted in arousal.

You giggled. "Wow."

"What?" Dean snapped, eyes cracking open.

"Nothing," you said, smirking. "You could beg a little more, might help." You felt your own arousal start to pool in your panties.

"Please, Y/N." Dean looked up at you with wild eyes, squeezing his cock through his pants.

"Please what?" You cocked your head.

"Please... make me cum," he said finally, eyes dropping to your midriff, unwilling to hold your gaze.

You tilted his chin up so he would look at you again, feeling a certain sense of satisfaction that you had somehow reduced him to this begging, horny mess in the chair before you.

"All you had to do was ask," you said softly. You backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean started to get up and follow you.

"No," you said, holding up a red-manicured finger. "Sit back down." You pointed.

Dean frowned but did as he was told. You smiled, delighted.

"You're having way too much fun with this," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry what was that?" you asked with a stern expression. "Do you want to cum or not?"

Dean's dick twitched in his pants. The way you bossed him around was really turning him on. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." You twirled your hair thoughtfully. Dean whined impatiently.

"Tsk, tsk." You crossed your legs at an angle where he could almost see through the slit into your crotch. "Take your cock out."

Dean was all too happy to oblige, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants faster than you could say desperate, hiking up his dress shirt in the process.

"Wait," you interrupted before he could go any further. "Why don't you unbutton your shirt, too. Wouldn't want to make a mess." You smirked.

"Okay," Dean agreed breathily, practically tearing the two sides of the shirt from each other, exposing his muscular torso. You had seen him shirtless before, but there was something about the way he was breathing, stomach rising and falling quickly as he panted, that turned you on when it wouldn't normally.

"Now you can take your dick out," you said. You held your breath a little as his cock came into view. He was fully hard now, and dripping. He squeezed the base, moaning.

"Now what?" he asked, eyes shut as he lightly stroked his cock with his fingertips.

"You need me to tell you how to jack off?" you asked meanly. To your surprise, Dean moaned loudly at that.

He began stroking his cock, slowly at first, building up speed as he could no longer contain himself. A near-constant string of quiet whimpers and moans fell from his lips. You took note of the way he swiped his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading it around to aid his fingers.

"Look at me," you instructed. You wanted to see that wild look in his eyes again, and were instantly rewarded as his eyes flew open to meet yours. His mouth fell open as he gasped when he saw you.

"Forget I was here?" you teased. Dean gulped and shook his head vehemently. His hand slowed, and he started tugging himself less frantically, holding eye contact with you intensely.

"Fuck," he whispered hoarsely. "You're so hot, wanna see you."

You smirked. "Only because you admitted it." You hiked up your skirt, spreading the slit open so he could see your black lace panties.

Dean devoured your skin with his eyes, rubbing the head of his cock in circles with his thumb.

You dropped the straps of your dress so that they hung loosely around your shoulders and ran your long nails across your collarbones, petting your shoulders. Then you took hold of the neckline and pulled it down, freeing your tits from the dress.

"Better than I imagined, baby," Dean groaned at the sight, as his hips bucked into his hand.

You took one of your breasts in your hand, squeezing it towards your chest. "You imagined?" you lilted, smiling.

"Been thinkin' about you all night," he admitted shamelessly. "How good your tits looked in that dress. How good- ngh- you looked walkin' away from me."

Your other hand started creeping into your skirt. "Thought I couldn't even seduce a virgin. What does that make you?"

Dean growled, jerking his cock faster. "I don't- fuck-"

"Maybe you're just a manwhore," you purred, hopping off the bed to approach him.

"Please," Dean gasped, tossing his head back. "I need you."

You scoffed. "I'm not that lacking in self-respect." You lightly scratched your fingernails down the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, groaning, hand stilling.

You leaned in to murmur in his ear. "No, you're gonna take care of this all... by... yourself." You laced your fingers into his short hair, scratching his scalp, and pulled his head back. He relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling.

"So take care of it," you remind him harshly, giving his hair a hard tug before letting go. Dean raised his head hazily and began to stroke his dick again, gasping. It was angry red, practically begging for release, but Dean seemed determined to tease himself until he couldn't take it anymore, which you suspected would be soon.

You turned your back to him and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor in a silken puddle. You heard Dean moan softly, sound of skin rubbing skin growing faster. You smiled to yourself as an idea occurred to you.

Against a backdrop of street lamplight coming through the window and lewd noises coming from Dean, you padded barefoot wearing only your underwear to the other side of the bed, where your pajamas lay folded neatly on the nightstand. You unfolded them and spread them out on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked hoarsely. "Don't- please stay- I need to see you," he whimpered finally.

You ignored him, as you had been planning to do, and put your pajamas on dramatically slowly to the soundtrack of Dean begging you to stop, stay naked, help him.

You turned back to him when you were finished and a rush of arousal hit you at the sight: Dean, cock in hand, sitting exactly where you had left him, sweaty and gasping and looking at you with a wild, desperate expression. You moaned softly in spite of yourself.

"Poor baby," you pout, rounding the bed to sit next to him again. "Haven't you come yet?"

Dean's hand was working overtime, forearm muscles flexing and rippling beneath his skin where his sleeve was rolled up.

"Can't," he breathed.

"You can't come?" You feigned surprise, even though you had known for several minutes that he was probably going to wait for your permission.

"Need you," Dean panted. "Can't do it- mm- without you."

"Sure you can," you said, running your nails down his chest. He shivered intensely.

Dean whimpered, face contorting in frustration. "I can't."

"What, I got you so turned on you can't even jack off without me?" you tease, fingertips stopping right above his happy trail.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you," you reply smoothly, digging your fingers into his stomach.

Dean rolled his eyes, although you weren't sure if it was sass or pleasure. "Please," he insisted, whining.

"Useless." You replaced his hand with yours, gripping his cock tightly as you stroked it for him. "Can't even make yourself come without my help."

Dean went slack-jawed, head falling back once more. "Uh-huh," he moaned breathily. He ground his hips upwards, trying to find more pressure or friction or something but getting nothing but what you gave him.

"You're a useless whore, right?" you taunted. He would tell you if you went too far, right?

"Yes," Dean groaned loudly. You almost clapped your hand over his mouth, certain that Sam could hear through the walls.

"Shhh, be quiet baby," you said instead. You swiped your thumb over the head of his dick and he hissed, biting his lip. Your other hand went down to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze.

Suddenly Dean's whole body tensed and his eyes flew open. "Shit- I'm so close, please," he panted. His abs flexed, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You increased the pressure on both hands slightly. "Go on then."

Dean let out a sound somewhere between a strangled gasp and a groan as he came, spurting over his stomach and your hands. You kept pumping, using his cum to aid your efforts, until he was begging you to stop between gasping breaths. Only then did you let go of him, admiring your handiwork.

One Dean Winchester (formerly unbelieving of your sexual prowess), spread over a chair, covered in cum, sweaty and panting and utterly fucked out.

"Thank you," he whispered weakly after a moment.

"Will you ever doubt me again?" you asked, smirking.

He rolled his head to the side to look at you. "No. Fuck, that was hot." Dean grinned. "Actually, I changed my mind. Maybe I should doubt you more often."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, Winchester. Clean up and go to bed."

Dean got out of the chair stiffly, winked at you, and went to do as he was told.

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn smut #spn fanfiction #userwraith

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ma1dita · 3 months

Text

trouble always finds me

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.7k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. Luke’s perspective on trouble & how they first met! think trouble’s origin story (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

warnings: none, fluff? Mr. D being a clueless dad lol also guys they’re 14 here

a/n: welcome back to the trouble!verse hehe i was inspired by Mr. D being a bit of a jerk to Percy so that the kid doesn’t off himself. Similar concept but with Luke after he first gets to camp— another version for why trouble!reader calls him angelface coming soon

(posted 1/19/24, erm unedited and not beta’d so forgive me in advance)

—

You were always trouble, Luke knew that from the day he met you.

Walking into Camp Half-Blood, worn out and weary after days of trying to not become harpy food, his arm was slung protectively over Annabeth’s shoulder as they were led onto the campgrounds. So many pity-filled eyes were focused on them after hearing what happened to Thalia, but the camp seemed promising, filled with other demigods who can resonate with what they’ve experienced. Luke thought it was too good to be true, but anything’s better in comparison to the streets they came from. You, however, looked at them in interest from afar, a playful expression on a pretty face watching their every move like him and Annie were shiny new toys to play with.

He was so sure something was off with you.

Had to be, from the deranged glimmer in your eye that would appear when something bad would happen at Camp. He’d seen it in action a couple of times before you set your sights on him— setting off fireworks during capture the flag, replacing salt with sugar in the kitchens, cutting Mr. D’s hair in his sleep; all of this causing campers and staff alike to run amok and figure out who to penalize. Each time he’d find you enjoying how it all played out, excitement brimming on the cusp of revealing yourself as the culprit as he watched you bite your tongue. But as a mischievous kid himself, he wondered why you hid it. You preferred to orchestrate the show, to make a spectacle for your personal entertainment, and with a smile too soft to be considered guilty, you were a convincing actress.

The other campers in 11 told him you’d been unclaimed for half a year now, keeping to yourself and making a safe haven within the busy cabin. You were a klutz to say the least, bringing chaos to Camp Half-Blood with a cool disposition, and you hardly seemed interested the one time Luke tried to say hi as he took the bunk next to yours.

So why the hell wouldn’t you lay off of him?

At first it was small, shoulder bumps and raised eyebrows whenever he piped up in a conversation. That, he could deal with. Luke’s a tough guy, having gone through more than a typical 14-year old would.

But then it just got annoying.

Glitter in his shampoo, his laundry load dyed purple, and shoelaces knotted together to make him stumble— things meant to be more of an inconvenience rather than an actual problem. Luke wasn’t sure what to make of it, or what to tell you. No one wants to be the new kid creating trouble, but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

Maybe you were a Hermes kid like him, but of that, Luke wasn’t so easily convinced—months of living in 11 would mean you’d learn all of the tricks of the trade, so it couldn’t automatically mean that you were related (a part of him also hoped you weren’t be half-siblings, or else the fact he couldn’t stop thinking of you would be slightly awkward). Perhaps a child of Apollo? When you weren’t being difficult, he’s seen you sprinkled in sunlight, usually humming a tune under your breath. Yesterday it was a song from the Sound of Music, and though he only remembers bits of a memory from a movie night with his mom years ago, he put his combat gear on slower just to hear you finish the song.

Whatever you were, it was bound to be troublesome.

—

At this point in life, Luke hasn’t had many comforts while on the run. To him there’s no such thing as action without reason, without meaning. Five years of running and not looking back makes this son of Hermes realize that he hasn’t had a chance to take a breath until he got here. It’s hard to let down your guard when you’re always supposed to be keeping watch.

He wriggles under his covers trying to relax himself before bed, purple socks sticking out of the scrappy hand-me-down blanket, and he hears a small giggle from the bed next to his. Luke shifts his weight onto his side, eyes darting to your direction in the quiet of the dark cabin.

“Nice socks.”

He blinks. Were you talking to him? His toes wiggle playfully, prompting more of your melodious laughter as he chews at his lip before he responds.

“Guess I’m getting used to them.”

“You’re getting used to a lot of things around here. That’s good,” you whisper, and thinks he can see you concocting something sinister in that brain of yours—he’s on the edge of the mattress hanging onto your every word as he realizes this is the most you’ve spoken to him.

“You did this. Why?” he says, more of a statement than a question. Why would you go out of your way for someone like him?

“Are you mad about it? Luke, right?” you mutter, a calm expression on your face shrouded in moonlight, and for a second he wonders if you actually don’t know his name until he notices the upwards quirk of your lip.

Luke catches himself then, and the realization hits him like a blow to the chest— he’s not angry at all. If anything, he hasn’t had the time to feel anything negative with the antics you’ve been pulling. You’ve proven to be quite the distraction to his circumstances, and he can’t remember the last time he’s thought about Thalia or his mom since he got here. The melancholy falls on his countenance like a better-fitting blanket than the one he has on, and your words pull him from his thoughts before they can suffocate him again.

“Sorry about your sister. I lost someone right before I got here too. My mom.”

This, he can tell, is not acting. Your eyes flicker to a polaroid strapped in the space underneath the top bunk above your head, two blurry figures huddled together in a memory.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what to say. In the silence that follows, he swallows audibly. Everyone’s been worried about Annabeth, including himself that he hadn’t even thought of his own emotions being on display for everyone to see. Luke never thought you of all people would notice.

You shrug, “S’not your fault. I know when people are acting though. If you know I’m the one who’s been starting shit, why haven’t you told anyone?”

Luke almost laughs at that, a rough exhale leaving his lungs as he watches your hands clutch your quilt.

“It’s pretty entertaining, I guess. You’re annoying, but I don’t mind it. Kept my mind off of things.”

He watches you smile in the shadows now, and it shines—all lips, teeth, and sheer mirth that makes his chest feel a little lighter. A real smile from you, one that doesn’t hide your true intentions.

“I’m glad. Mine too.”

The next thing you do confuses him further, but from what he’s gathered you’re always full of surprises. You chuck your quilt across the space between your bunks, and the end of it smacks him in the face as he grunts.

“Here. Keep it,” you chuckle a bit loudly, the both of you hearing a Shhhhh… from somewhere in the dark cabin.

“What… Why? Are we friends now?” Luke mumbles jokingly, inhaling the soft scent of berries and fresh linen. His purple laundry load smelled like this too.

“No.”

“Then why are you giving me your stuff?” he says, but still curls up underneath the handmade quilt stitched from memories of a past life, of motherly love and gentle hands. He doesn’t have anything like this, so he settles into this feeling of comfort instead, even if it wasn’t his memory to hold. You go quiet at the sight of him, eyes fluttering and chin tucked into the pink and purple fabric, and he looks as soft as a normal 14 year old boy should.

“It’s getting boring in here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think,” you mumble, turning away and shutting your eyes before he can say anything else.

—

The next day, you get caught putting a month’s supply of bubble bath into the lake, but Luke’s convinced you did it on purpose. All of camp is standing on the shore, watching you wave at them from a river tube as Chiron and Mr. D yell at you in exasperation—finally revealing yourself as the troublemaker they’ve been searching for.

“Get on the beach this instant, young lady! You have no idea how much trouble you’ve put us through!” Mr. D’s voice echoes across the lake, his immortal form almost filtering through his frustration before you laugh in his face, unthreatened by the Olympian.

“Good thing I get it from you. Hello, dad!”

Jaws drop as everyone turns to look at Mr. D, the realization hitting his face as he points at you, his brain moving a mile a minute. Though you resemble your mother, your actions are all him. You revel in the grand reaction, looking up to see a purple thyrsus surrounded by grape leaves float over your head.

“Nice outfit, kid. I don’t think purple is your color. She do that to you too?” Mr. D notes Luke’s wine colored cargos and socks clashing against the harsh orange of his shirt as he pushes past him, scratching his head at the idea of another kid. Poor guy said two was the limit in a lifetime and he gets a grinning teenage girl who dares him to do something about it. He hasn’t raised a lot of girls….

“I don’t know. I guess trouble always seems to find me,” Luke laughs lightly, watching kids of all ages jump into the bubbly lake water happily. The glowing ember of his eyes are relaxed for the first time in a while— an inviting flame catching your own as you stare at him from across the sudsy water. Trouble, he thinks, a smile settling onto his face—how fitting.

He’s spent a lot of time running. But perhaps this time, he’s finding reasons to want to stay.

—

"After all, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal." - Sylvia Plath

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo imagine #luke castellan x reader fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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cambion-companion · 8 months

Note

Here’s ya girl who has gone completely feral over astarion. He’s the babiest baby. Okay, here’s the prompt. My characterisation could be a bit (or a lot lol) off bc I haven’t played the game Y E T so feel free to change the things that seem OOC.

Established relationship, but the beginnings of it, on a mission to find a way for astarion to be in the sun again. Reader has given astarion time to work on his sexual trauma so they haven’t been having sex for some time. Reader is 100% ok w that. But they have a big argument over something (not related to sex) and astarion doesn’t know how to resolve the situation other than reverting back to his seductive artifice and using sex as a way to ensure his safety (in this case, emotional safety). Reader figures it out because they (or she) are not dumb. They reassure astarion and he lets himself be vulnerable but also, it turns out that astarion wants that sexual intimacy. But reader decides this will be all about astarion and making him feel good and loved. Body worship, astarion’s praise kink, just everything focused on astarion’s pleasure in a way he has never experienced and that makes him completely unravel once he comes. Not a subby reader, tho. You know me, I don’t do subby.

If this is too long of a prompt, just the sexy part will be ok. Thank you so much, i have such astarion brainrot DDDD:

I Want to Live

word count: 1700

gn!reader x Astarion | Baldur's Gate 3 fanfic | 18+ only

"I don't think we should use the tadpoles for anything, Astarion." You put your hands on your hips, glaring at the sulky Elf in front of you.

This tense conversation between the two of you had gone on far longer than you'd have liked. Astarion seemed insistent on using whatever advantage the Illithids had unintentionally given your party. Despite not yet knowing the implications of doing so.

Astarion's silver hair glinted in the firelight that warmed your back, his eyes shone like droplets of blood. "You might as well leave me alone, spoilsport." He waved an imperious hand in your direction, sneering at you in the way he knew would hurt you most. "Since you insist on being boring and unimaginative."

You ground your teeth. "I'm trying to keep us safe."

"And a fine job you're doing, my sweet." His lilting voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you ask Arabella how her parents are doing?" He paused, then feigned surprise. "Oh wait..."

Your eyes widened as a jolt of genuine pain lanced through your heart at his callous words. Astarion was aiming to do damage and, like always, he knew how to push your buttons.

Magic sparked at the end of your fingertips as you fought to control your rage. It was the lack of verbal response that alerted Astarion to the fact he might have pushed a little too far with you. His face almost looked regretful for a moment, or perhaps it was a trick of the firelight casting shadows across his features. You didn't gain much insight because of the tears blurring your vision as you quickly turned away and strode as far away from the vampire spawn as you could.

Shadowheart, who always seemed to overhear everything, cast a worried glance your direction before leveling a glare on Astarion who still watched after you with a blank look.

You sat yourself upon your bedroll before the campfire and listened to Volo squeakily tune his lute. Wyll and Gale were over by their tents chatting and Lae'zel sat on a boulder by the river sharpening her sword.

You had thought Astarion would understand and perhaps even agree with you, and the rest of the camp for that matter, that the parasites should not be utilized to gain control of other beings. It was convenient and downright useful, yes...but not worth an unknown cost.

You had thought...since that night when the two of you had become intimate...that he'd maybe come to care for you. But that jab about Arabella's parents, who you'd failed to save, only confirmed that the vampire did not have your best interests at heart.

Sighing, you moved your bedroll away from its usual place beside Astarion's and arranged it next to where Karlach slept. You could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching you move about but you didn't much care at the moment.

Karlach gave you a curious and concerned look as she came over and got comfortable for the night. "Are you alright? I could hear you and Astarion going at it...and not in the fun way."

You grunted and moved your body to the side so you could scrape out a rock that had been digging into your back. "It's fine. He's just an ass." You said these words loud enough for him to hear.

Karlach shrugged and nodded as if this were common knowledge. She gave you a jolting pat on the back before getting comfortable in her own bedroll.

As the breathing patterns of your companions slowly deepened in slumber, you could not find any rest. You tossed and turned as best you could in such primitive sleeping arrangements. You missed your bed back in Baldur's Gate above the taproom of the Shadowcat Claw, the familiar bustle of voices and a mug of ale in your belly lulling you to sleep. Out in this wilderness, with the thought of your argument with Astarion tugging at your thoughts...you had to get up.

As quietly as you could, you slid out of your bedroll and got to your feet. A quick observation of your companions told you they were all in a deep sleep. All except Lae'zel who sat on the boulder still, keeping silent watch. She nodded at you curtly as you passed and didn't ask any questions, for which you were grateful.

You crept through the foliage down to the place in the forest by the river where you and Astarion had had your midnight tryst. You could still feel his moonlight hair running through your fingers, his fangs on your neck as you arched it just for him. The trust...you thought you had at least earned a little bit of his trust.

"I thought I'd find you here." His voice was velvet, it shivered straight through your defenses to your heart.

"I wanted to be alone, Astarion." You tried to keep your own voice cool and collected, but you ached to hold him in your arms again.

Astarion had followed you from the campsite into the woods. He'd been fully aware of your restlessness, of course he had. He entered your line of sight now, looking very much like a cat stalking its prey. His ruby eyes were dark and trained on your face. "Come now, you're far too obvious for all this bluster. Do you not want to feel me again?" He gave you a crooked smile, showing his teeth. "A second taste, perhaps?"

You felt the hollowness of his words and saw the carefully arranged expression he wore like a mask. Beneath the facade you could make out the telltale twitch of a facial muscle, the tenseness of his eyes, indicating anxiety.

You sighed. "I thought we were passed these games."

"Games?" Astarion's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Games are all part of the fun, my dear. So good at getting the blood pumping."

You folded your arms. "I want an apology."

This tripped him up. For a moment the facade slipped, and he seemed genuinely taken aback. "Apologize?" Then he was back to his usual bluster. "Me? Apologize for what?"

"For having a go at me today. Bringing up Arabella's parents when you know how upset I am about it." Astarion made a noise as if to speak but you cut across him. "That was cruel, Astarion, and I deserve better from you."

"I didn't..." Astarion sighs heavily, his eyes glancing down to the ground then back at your face. "I apologize." The words seemed to pain him in some way. "I wanted to get a rise out of you, that's all. Now let's forget about that and have some fun."

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, saying nothing, simply watching his face lit in the silver moonlight. His unconvincing grin slowly slipped off his face, a troubled frown replacing it. The two of you looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, you spoke.

"You're testing how much I care for you, aren't you?" Your voice was soft, almost inaudible over the rippling stream.

Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback, he seemed to consider taking shelter once more behind his mask of pompous indifference. But then his shoulder's slumped slightly, the fists at his sides loosened. That was all the answer you needed.

You stepped forward and placed your hands around his, tugging him closer. He did not resist, his footfalls light as ever as he drew near. Close enough to feel his breath warm your lips.

"I care about you, Astarion." Your voice was still soft amidst the rustling leaves and sparkling water. "I discourage you from using the tadpole's powers because I couldn't bear to see your will overtaken by yet another monster."

Astarion was silent for a long time, his scarlet eyes turned silver as a moonbeam fell across his pallid face. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained. "What if it's too late for me? To be anything other than a monster? My only choice is which one." He laughs forcefully, bitterness twisting his mouth.

"I won't let that happen." You encircled him tenderly in a hug, pulling him to rest flush against your body. "We're in this...together."

"Together." The word was echoed back to you, his voice framing the syllables as if it were a foreign tongue.

You turned your face into him and kissed his neck softly, feeling his body tense in your arms and then slowly relax. You kept your lips against his skin, over where Cazador had sunk his fangs all those centuries ago.

Astarion's hands slowly slid up your hips to rest against your lower back as he held you close. Your lips caressed his neck, throat and trailed up to his jaw until you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you." You murmured.

You felt him tense again, not pushing you away, but his hands tightened on your back. "I..." Astarion hesitated. "I'm not quite ready to say those words back to you, my dear."

"I know." You felt no anger, no hurt. You accepted him however he wished to come to you, grateful for this rare moment of vulnerability beneath the stars.

You pushed him back gently until his back made contact with the base of a large sycamore tree. A huff of air left his lungs, quickly claimed by your mouth as you kissed him hungrily this time. Your hands made quick work of his clothing and Astarion became eager to help the process along.

"Vixen." He murmured and you laughed against his lips, your tongues teasing each other.

"You're beautiful, Astarion." You held his face in your hands and kissed his mouth lightly, not allowing him to turn away even as the compliment made his eyes search yours for hints of disingenuity. "I want nothing from you in return." You said firmly, reading his emotional turmoil through your shared Illithid connection. "This is just for you." You kissed his mouth, his cheek, his forehead. "To keep."

Astarion's head fell back to rest against the tree trunk as you continued lavishing affection upon him. He moaned your name softly to the night sky as you slowly sunk to your knees before him, the dirt and rocks digging unheeded against your knees. His fingers twisted in your hair and guided you to where he wanted you most.

"Good, my love." You praised him, your words causing his body to shake with increasing pleasure. "Show me."

The night was long and full of bliss. A genuine exchange of pleasure, without the previous facades and plays at affection. You felt the change as surely as he did, and when the others awoke in the morning it was to find your bedroll pulled back right next to where Astarion lay curled against you.

"You owe me five gold, Shadowheart." Gale mumbled.

#baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #gale bg3 #shadowheart #bg3 fic #bg3 astarion x reader #astarion x tav #karlach #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 9 months

Text

So Much To Learn

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: a lot, again; Sub!Spencer and kinda mean dom reader, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader is 21), hand job/teasing, honorifics & pet names, marking a lot, p in v sex, they both talking diiiiirty, minor praise, risky sex, multiple orgasms, edging, squirting- I think I got everything??

Genre: Smut kinda fluff and like minor minor angst if you squint

Summary: You don't react well when you realize someone else is giving your professor boyfriend entirely too much of their attention

A/N: technically this is a continuation of So Much To Teach but order is arbitrary lol

Part 1< >Part 3

***

The weeks after Spencer's confession in his office are- fun to say the least. Meeting in secret, teasing him in class, it's all very exciting. With finals just around the corner now though, you're not sure what it means for the two of you. Will he be interested in establishing anything solid with you once you're out of his class? Will things continue as they are? Will he toss you aside only to replace you with another student from another class next semester? The last possibility bothers you more than you'd like to admit. You'll have to find a good time to bring it up to him soon. Between preparing for final exams or papers and Spencer's near insatiable appetite for time with you there's never a moment you want to risk ruining with what will no doubt be an awkward conversation.

There's a slight knock on the door at the back of the classroom that interrupts Spencer's lecture and your wandering mind. Everyone turns to see another professor walk into the room.

"Oh shoot. I'm so sorry Spence I- I thought your class would be over by now." Professor Greene says. She has the decency to look remorseful although you've noticed her sniffing around Spencer for a little while now so you roll your eyes to yourself.

"Oh don't worry about it Professor Greene we're just wrapping up, come on in." Spencer says kindly. "Alright guys reminder, your finals are online and are due at the end of finals week- that's Friday in two weeks' time. We're not meeting on Thursday but next Tuesday for our final meeting time together I'll be having a review session. It's not mandatory but I'll be here during our class time to answer any last minute study questions you may have. I hope to see you next week but if not good luck on all your finals, if you're graduating congratulations, enjoy your holidays, and have a good day!" Spencer dismisses the class. Usually, you'd linger to drop by his office after class but with Professor Greene about to commandeer his attention, you're not sure if you should. Still, you take your time packing up your things while listening in on their conversation.

"I really am so sorry I interrupted your lecture, Spence. I just wanted to ask about the staff meeting I missed the other day." Professor Greene says.

"Oh don't worry about it, Professor Greene but I can email you my notes from the meeting real quick." Spencer says walking over to his computer.

"I've told you a thousand times Spencer call me Ellie." She says patting his shoulder. Spencer mutters something you can barely hear as you exit the classroom. You don't catch the way his eyes trail after you for a moment before he focuses back on sending this email.

"Y/n!" Matt calls pretty much as soon as you make it out of the classroom.

"Oh, hey Lewis. What's up?"

"Was wondering if you were free to meet up sometime to do some studying for the final? Ya know that way we can help each other with things that are confusing and anything we can't figure out together- we can bring up next week during the review session."

"Ya know what that's a great idea Matt. Why don't we do Thursday- since we don't have class we can just hit the library during that time." You suggest.

"Perfect. I'll meet you at the library on Thursday then." Matt smiles, rushing ahead to catch up with some friends. You make your way to Spencer's office like you do after every class although usually you walk together. Today you sit on the bench that's a few feet from his office and wait for him while reading a book.

"Sweetheart. I was wondering where you ran off to." Spencer says when he reaches his office.

"Didn't want to interrupt. She likes you, you know."

"What?" He frowns over his shoulder at you as he unlocks his office door.

"Professor Greene. She was totally flirting with you when she came in during class." You stand up and follow him into his office.

"Was she?" He hums.

"You're telling me you didn't notice?" You scoff.

"Do you want me to notice other women flirting with me?"

"I don't care, Spencer, you're not my boyfriend-"

"Hey, that's not fair." He frowns. You know it's not, Spencer told you early on the only thing stopping him from labeling your relationship was because of how risky it is to date your professor, but you're apparently facing jealousy and it's making you mean.

"I was only saying she's being really obvious. Whether you're interested or not though, is your business. I have some studying to do so I can't stick around today but I didn't want to disappear without letting you know." You say dismissively.

"Y/n," Spencer says softly.

"I'll see you next week." You tell him, turning on your heel. You need to get your feelings under control and quickly.

"I'm not interested in her. You have to know you're the only one on my mind." Spencer says before you make it out the door. You're not even sure what to say back, so you leave without a word.

You've never considered yourself a jealous or insecure person but for some reason, Professor Greene really gets under your skin when it comes to Spencer. Maybe it's because you know it would be easier for him to date her, she's close to his age and there's no taboo surrounding that pairing. That doesn't make feeling this way any less annoying. I mean- you've been ignoring her attempts at making advances at him for the past couple of months but you think the stress of exams and final papers is exacerbating a feeling you normally wouldn't even notice. Honestly, you have entirely too much else going on to be wasting time focused on staking your claim over a man that's only yours in locked offices, empty halls, and dark rooms. You don't fight over men, if Professor Greene can 'take him from you' she can absolutely have him.

By Thursday when you meet up with Matt, you've managed to knock those ugly thoughts of Spencer and Professor Greene to the back of your head, drowning yourself in studying and paper writing. You have no problems in Spencer's class, even before you were fucking him you had an A average so his final is the least of your worries but you know a review can't hurt. You spend way longer than the length of a class studying with Matt, he's a good student which appears to come with great effort on his part. He goes over things in such depth you're actually a little impressed and for a moment there you wonder what it would be like to pick the easy lover. Matt's kind, and attractive, and it would be much less complicated, no sneaking around- well maybe a bit but it would be for fun, not out of necessity. He'd walk you to class holding your hand, and kiss you on the quad, you'd probably adopt his whole friend group, they're athletes whose girlfriends always seem to be adored by all of them. It would be nice, it would be sweet. If things with Spencer do end at the end of the term you'll seriously consider falling for Matt. The version of reality where you end up with him sounds good. If only you'd realized it before Spencer caught your eye so severely. Would things be different? Would you be holding Matt's hand across the table right now? Sitting next to each other in class? Having him over to study late into the night until you'd have him just stay over because you don't want him to leave so late? It seems silly to spend so much time dwelling on a world that you gave up months ago. You blame it on the stress of the end of a semester.

When Tuesday rolls around you go to the review session knowing you don't actually have any questions but maybe someone will ask one you didn't think of that will come in handy. There are not that many people here for the review, some kids from other sections for sure, but still only maybe 20 of you in total. Spencer tries a number of times to catch your attention while he answers questions to gauge how you're feeling but you don't give anything away on your face. That is until Professor Greene walks in about halfway through the review session.

"Hi Spence! Sorry to interrupt, I know you're reviewing for finals and stuff but I ordered a sandwich for lunch and they gave me 2? I just thought I'd offer you one." She smiles as she scurries to the front of the room. Spencer catches the wry smile that just barely cracks your poker face for a moment and he's almost nervous to address Professor Greene.

"Oh- I appreciate it Professor Greene but I brought lunch, I always do. Perhaps Mike would like it if he's on campus? I know he usually buys food at the student center for lunch." He offers. Graceful rejection. Hopefully enough to keep you happy and put off his coworker at the same time. You make a point to not react outwardly but you do notice his choice to call her Professor Greene while calling another professor in the building Mike despite her giggling request last week to call her by her first name.

"Mike?" She blinks at him.

"Yeah he's- probably doing some grading in his office upstairs." Spencer smiles. "Anyone have any other questions for me?" He turns his attention back to the small group of students who mostly seem ready to leave after watching the exchange.

"The exam is a combination of multiple choice and short answer right?" A woman asks.

"Correct, just like your exams in class." He nods. "It- seems like we've covered all your questions guys so, I think it's okay for us to wrap this up a bit early yes?" Spencer asks. Professor Greene is still in the room but Spencer avoids her gaze diligently as the class murmurs affirmatives.

"Spence before you head off can I speak to you for a moment?" Professor Greene asks quietly while the rest of the room is busy packing up their things.

"Of course." He answers reluctantly. "Miss y/n, don't go far I have an assignment of yours I'd like to discuss in my office." Spencer tells you before you can even stand up.

"Sure prof." You drawl resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Look Spencer the sandwich was- a decoy. I mean they did give me an extra that I wanted to offer you but it was really an excuse to ask you something else." Professor Greene's tone is hushed as you and a few others are still milling about the room.

"Oh- well what is it?" Spencer asks though his gaze shifts to you every so often. You who sits so seemingly unbothered waiting for him, chewing gum, tapping away on your phone, not even looking their way although your ears are definitely paying attention.

"I'm having a little faculty get-together and I wanted to invite you personally."

"What, like going out for drinks?"

"Yeah exactly! Will you be there?"

"Uh- email me the details and I'll let you know."

"Awesome! I really hope to see you there Spence." She places her hand on his arm and he quickly walks over to his satchel to escape the touch.

"I'll- see what I can do." He mutters. "Is that all? I don't want to keep y/n waiting all afternoon."

"Y/n?" She frowns.

"My student? The only person in the room. Who I asked to wait up when I dismissed everyone?" Spencer frowns at her.

"Right! I guess I forgot. One track mind sometimes." She waves off with a giggle. How unnecessarily dismissive.

"Y/n. My office. Ready to go?" He turns his attention to you without even addressing her comment.

"Whenever you're done." You shrug.

"That would be now."

"Alright. Let's go." You stand up and exit the class before him.

"I'll see you at the gathering Spencer." Professor Greene says as he follows you out. You don't say anything as you walk down the halls with Spencer trailing behind. He thinks he handled that well but he can't tell. It's like you're being hard to read on purpose. He unlocks his office door and lets you inside before him, shutting it behind him.

"Look I-"

"I think you should go." You tell him first.

"What?"

"To her little get together. I think you should go." You shrug.

"You do?" He frowns which deepens when you nod. "Why?" He asks.

"It's good for you to socialize with your coworkers." You offer noncommittally.

"You're in a better mood about her today than you were last week." He says carefully.

"Is the door locked?" You ask him.

"What?"

"To your office. Did you lock the door?"

"Oh- yes. I always lock-"

"Yes is sufficient." You say sitting in his office chair.

"Sweetheart, talk to me, what's-" He stops when you hold up one of your hands.

"Spencer, drop to your knees." You say.

"What?" He blinks at you.

"It's a very simple instruction, I would expect a man with as many degrees as you hold would be able to understand a 4-word command."

"I understood it fine I just-"

"Then why are you still standing? If you understood it Spencer do it. I want you on your knees. Now." You cross your arms. Spencer slowly, unsurely, lowers himself to his knees, still by the door to his office. "That's better. Come over to me. And just so we're clear you'll have to crawl." Spencer bends and shuffles over to you on his hands and knees, gaze pointed at the carpet in his office. You've discussed the possibility of him giving up control a number of times but this is not how he expected today to go. When he's by your side you lift his chin up to force his eyes to yours. "Finals week starts in two days Spence, I've got three papers and two exams to think about. I don't have time to worry about if you're going to behave or not." You tell him.

"I-"

"Choose your next words very carefully baby they might just ruin your day." You warn him.

"I would never misbehave darling. My loyalties are to you." He says softly.

"Are you willing to prove that?" You ask.

"However you ask me to." He says immediately.

"I like that answer." You hum. You tug your dress over your head and drop it on his desk. "You can start by removing my panties with your teeth." You tell him. "Just your teeth. I want your hands behind your back." You add. Spencer shuffles forward and tugs at your underwear with his teeth. You move only when absolutely necessary to help but he gets them off after a few moments and holds them between his lips, looking at you for further instructions. "Good boy professor." You pull them from his mouth and drop them on the desk beside your dress. "You'll need your mouth free for this next bit." You say threading your fingers into his hair. "Your loyalties are with me you said?"

"Of course princess." Spencer's reply is breathy.

"Hm- no, not princess. Today you can call me mistress or your queen. I'll let you choose but only between those two. Anything else will get you in trouble and- today is not the day to get in trouble."

"O-okay, My Queen."

"Good. And as for proving your loyalties, you can begin with your head between my thighs, let's see how loyal you are." You spread your legs and tug at his hair still in your hand hard enough to shove his face directly into your center. Spencer is quick to react, his tongue laps up your juices as eagerly as you'd expect. He will regularly spend ages between your legs when he can just because he enjoys tasting you so much. Your back arches as he thrusts his tongue into your pussy feverishly. "Yeah, oh fuck, keep going. Show me- show me your devotion." You moan out as you grind against his mouth. Spencer groans into you as you pull at his hair. His tongue curls inside you just barely brushing against that spongy patch and you have to bite your lip to keep from squealing when he does. Spencer's nose nudges at your clit as he focuses his tongue on your inner walls until your legs stiffen around his ears. When that happens he drags his tongue up to your clit and focuses his attention there, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucking on it while his tongue lashes it with figure 8s. You almost scream when your orgasm crashes into you, fingers tightening in his hair and your back coming off the chair as you ride the waves of your release. "Don't- don't stop Spence. Fuck- keep sucking my clit." You pant out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the almost painful stimulation, but you want a second orgasm from him before you let him up for air and you plan to get it. You swallow your whines from those first few moments of post-orgasmic overstimulation and force Spencer further into your heat, practically smooshing his face against you. Your moan when overstimulation gives way to pure pleasure again is enough to have Spencer clenching his fists as more blood rushes to his already painfully hard dick. It fills him with a new level of determination as he sharpens the movements of his tongue against you. Your second orgasm builds quickly, and within a few minutes, you're shaking again, this orgasm covering Spencer's face and even squirting onto his shirt. You pull his hair harshly enough to move him away from you as you take a few deep breaths. Spencer sits panting, covered in your juices, pupils blown so wide there's no trace of his hazel-colored irises. "Look at what a mess you are." You hum. "You look pretty like this."

"Thank you- mistress." His voice is hoarse.

"Strip and sit on the couch. You can walk this time." You tell him. He stands, though a little unsteadily, and walks over to the loveseat, taking off his shirt and then his pants before sitting down with his gaze trained on you. You take your time standing from his chair and walking over to him, detouring to grab your jacket that you'd tossed over your backpack upon entry. You won't put the dress back on for now, having totally soaked your lover you have no interest in walking out of here in a damp dress, but your leather jacket will be fine. Spencer watches you with rapt attention as you finally approach him, his dick is an angry looking red flopped against his stomach and his whole body is tense. You drag a finger across his thigh and then up the length of his dick, slowly, reveling in the way he jolts at the contact.

"P-please." He gasps out.

"Please what Spencer?" You tilt your head at him.

"I- I need you to do something my queen I can't- it hurts."

"Do something? I'm already touching you. You need more?"

"Yes mistress, please." Spencer's head is tossed back against the couch as you trace the veins along his dick lazily.

"You're a greedy thing." You hum.

"Please mistress- please my queen I need- god please sit on my dick. Need it so bad- need you. I can't- can't help it." Spencer grips the cushions beneath him tightly, desperately trying not to squirm under your touch.

"Only because you beg very cutely." You tell him swinging your leg over to straddle him. You grip the base of his dick in your hand and lower yourself onto him with a satisfied hum while he lets out a guttural sound that makes your walls clench around him.

"Oh god thank you, my queen. thank you, thank you. You feel so good." Spencer pants out. You brace yourself using his shoulders and set your rhythm, bouncing on his dick quickly.

"Spencer, you're not allowed to cum until I say so." You tell him, grabbing his face to make sure he's listening.

"O-okay mistress. Of course mistress." He nods frantically.

"Fuck Spence this is what you're good for, this is where you belong. Filling me with your pretty little cock, covered in my squirt, you're mine aren't you baby?" You huff as you ride him furiously.

"Yes my queen yes. I'm yours. Just yours. Only you get to use me, touch me, take me. Only you make me feel so good." Spencer groans. You feel his body tense up under you and slow your pace almost to a stop.

"Not yet Spence." You mutter sweetly kissing his neck. You stay there for a few moments, grinding against him as you take some time to litter his throat with hickeys of various sizes some of which are quite dark as well. Dark enough that you're sure he'll have them through finals week. When you're satisfied with the marks covering him you pick up your pace again and his small whimpers from your lips against his skin turn to full-blown moans again. "This time Spencer you can cum, but you ask first." You tell him. He nods at your instruction and while you should scold him for not using his words you'll let it slide considering how close you know he is. He barely manages a few minutes before he's stuttering out his request.

"C-can I mistress please can I cum?" He pants out frantically.

"Good boy. Yes you can." You chuckle airily at the relief on his face when you give him permission. You keep pace until heat spills into you at which point your hips slam down harder against him even when he begins hissing from overstimulation.

"M-my queen I- too sensitive w-wait."

"I said you could cum baby but I didn't say I'd be done with you. Today you're my toy and I'll use you as long as I want. So be good and let me play." You say, letting yourself relish in the feeling of filling yourself over and over, even as his release leaks out of you and makes his thighs sticky. You moan in surprise when Spencer's dick hardens again inside you. "Oh- fuck. Well aren't you just the perfect plaything- eager to keep your queen happy."

"I- I- yes mistress." He whines. You ride him for a while longer, taking all he has to give and then some. He fills you two more times before you're satisfied and you make sure you have a couple more releases of your own by the time you're climbing off of his completely spent dick. You walk carefully over to his desk and grab his pack of wet wipes before walking back over to him, cleaning up the utter mess around his thighs. If he didn't look so exhausted you'd have him clean the mess on your thighs with his tongue, but right now you think if you asked Spencer to do anything else he'd simply collapse, so you take a few wipes to clean up yourself once you're done with him.

"You were very good today Spencer. I'd say you more than proved your devotion." You tell him with a gentle kiss.

"You're mean when you're jealous." He chuckles breathlessly.

"So are you professor." You tap his nose and stand to dress yourself. You pick his clothes up from the floor and lay them on the arm of the chair for whenever he gets the energy to stand and dress himself. You find his lunch and set it out for him on the table as well while you're at it.

"Are you leaving?" He asks, barely able to focus.

"Well- I do have some studying to do. Will you be okay? Do you want me to stay?" You ask. You won't leave him if he's going to drop but you've set up food, cleaned him up, and made sure he knows he did well.

"I- I don't want Professor Greene you know." He mumbles.

"I know, that's why I think you should go to her gathering. With all those pretty marks on your neck, she'll surely get the hint." You say. You bend over and gently brush some hair from his eyes. "You make me feel so territorial." You mutter.

"I'm sorry." He pouts.

"It's not your fault, it's unavoidable but- I don't like hiding you." You say.

"I don't like hiding you either." Spencer takes your hand in his. You pause for a moment and sigh.

"Do you want me to stay with you, Spence?" You ask brushing your thumb against the back of his hand.

"Can you spare the time?" He asks.

"Sure. But at some point, we should talk about what the end of the semester means for us." You say. Spencer sits up and you sit on the couch letting him rest his head in your lap.

"When you finish all your finals I have a question for you." He slurs a bit through his declaration.

"Why not just ask me now?"

"I want your head clear." You can barely make it out, he's obviously falling asleep, your fingers against his scalp lulling him too quickly. You're still high off adrenaline now, not quite ready to sleep but you know you'll feel the effects of this later. Good thing tomorrow is study day and you can get away with not leaving your apartment.

***

A/N: I was gonna post this on Friday but I’m posting it early as a thank you for all the love on part 1 already 🖤

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

1K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 4 months

Note

VIV HI 👹✨️

Request 😍❤️

Think like an hidden boyfriend.

Idk how else to explain it

Reader is like a reporter maybe? Or WAG

And it is well know that she is dating one of the drivers. Here is the twist....

No one knows who the boyfriend is 👹🙏

So just imagine one day, one of the other girlfriends post a couple of pictures

The fans are interested in two of them.

One is where the reader is being held by on oc them driver. The person is clearly visible ( not the boyfriend they just like teasing lol)

Now the second is just the reader laying down on the deck with an arm wrapped rather protective over her ( like think hand on ass 👹👹) like nope this is mine,fuck off lol🙏👹

Now everyone is freaking out trying to figure who the boyfriend is and everyone has different reason for who it is

The end would be the reveal after they were found out in a picture (with consent) of these two making out (think damn near fucking)

You can choose who you want to be the boyfriend

Thinking either carlos, max or Oscar for the boyfriend and for the like the first picture lando/logan maybe??

I started this after complaining about how tired i was but Bianca I couldn't resist 😫

naw but i'm so proud of this one

y/nl/n

liked by jensonbutton, maxverstappen1 and 455,819 others

y/nl/n i love my job 🫶🫶

view all 2,753 others

username1 living the dream 😫😫

alex_albon can't believe you didn't interview me

y/nl/n was too busy sucking face with your girlfriend 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

lilymhe mwah 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

username2 who is she?

username3 username2 how do you not know Y/N?

username4 she's a reporter for Sky Sports F1 and Lando's best friend

username5 the dating rumours tho 👀👀

y/nl/n

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 477,819 others

y/nl/n ma homie

view all 2,917 comments

username6 HOW DID YOU GET YOUR JOB I WANNA BE YOU SO BAD

georgerussell63 you're in the wrong garage

y/nl/n you're in the wrong team (kidding toto ily)

landonorris 💖💖

username7 LANDO?

username7 EXCUSE ME?

username8 he's really fuelling those rumours 😂

y/nl/n landonorris you know what you're doing 😠

y/nl/n

liked by carlossainz55, mclaren, and 499,143

y/nl/n team papaya 4eva 🧡

view all 3,074 comments

mclaren absolute queen

y/nl/n admin ily

lilymhe i am in AWE of you 😩

y/nl/n says you 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

landonorris my favourite girl 💕

y/nl/n your only girl? 🤧🤧

username9 they're dating

username10 i can't TAKE it anymore just tell us PLEASE 😭

y/nl/n

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 532,664 others

y/nl/n love ya lan

view all 3,752 comments

username11 naw this is a hard launch

username12 they've been friends for years so...

username13 this was not on my 2023 bingo card

username14 ILY GUYS this is so cute 💖💖💖💘💘💘💘💓💓💗💗💗💗💗💓💓💕💕💕💖💘💘💘💕❤❤♥♥♥♥❣❣💖💖❤❤❤❤❤

username15 literally no other drivers are commenting 👀👀

username16 yeah this is sus

username17 i don't trust either of you 😭

y/nl/n

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 566,983 others

y/nl/n switching sides

view all 4,996 comments

landonorris 😔😔

mclaren we miss you y/n! 😭😭

y/nl/n i miss you too admin 😭

username18 WHAT

username18 DOES

username18 THIS

username18 MEAN

scuderiaferrari welcome y/n! ❤

y/nl/n officially a tifosi now

y/nl/n

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 605,224 others

y/nl/n mwah

view all 5,832 others

landonorris we lost her 😔

y/nl/n shut up you muppet

username19 THE SOFT LAUNCH?

username20 i mean we all knew she was dating a driver but WHO IS IT?

y/nl/n

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 679,475 others

y/nl/n 😈😈😈😈

view all 9,884 comments

carlossainz55 😈😈😈😈

username21 THE GLOVES

username22 THE GLOVES

username23 THE GLOVES

charles_leclerc you guys are disgusting

y/nl/n *disgustingly cute

landonorris so i don't have to keep it secret now?

y/nl/n you are released from your duties

y/nl/n

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 675,329 others

y/nl/n love a man in red ❣

view all 5,884 comments

carlossainz55 passenger princess

username24 why does it shock me that carlos knows that phrase?

y/nl/n idk he's the real passenger princess here 👸👸

username25 girlies we lost him 😔

username26 girlies we lost HER 😔

landonorris he is babygirl 🥰🥰🥰

y/nl/n 🤺🤺

carlossainz55

liked by pierregasly, y/nl/n, and 696,335 others

carlossainz55 mía 💖

mine 💖

view all 6,835 comments

y/nl/n te amo ❤

carlossainz55 Te quiero más ❤

landonorris 📷📷??

y/nl/n back off bitch

lilymhe you stole my girlfriend 😠

y/nl/n he's just my side piece babygirl, dw 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

715 notes · View notes

slut4thebroken · 4 months

Text

Name Your Price

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x escort!reader

Summary | He has too much money for his own good lol.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, sex work, face fucking, deep throating, doggy, light spanking lol, humiliation, lots a degradation, a sprinkle of praise, our man is needy and whiny.

Words | 3.4 k

Notes | Imagine that gif is him looking at you on your knees heheh

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Your usual clientele are definitely in a higher tax bracket than most people, but you’ve never been with someone as rich as Robert Fischer. The second he had you literally sign an NDA you looked him up, seeing that he was next in line to take over his father’s business. That’s when it all started to make sense. Usually men pay to take you out, show you off, and then more often than not, fuck you. But Robert made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested in those services you offer. He just wanted to fuck you, and he wanted to do it discreetly.

He bought a hotel room for the night and paid for your ride here, as well as the clothes he requested you wear. What would’ve normally pissed you off if he were paying the usual price would’ve been how nit picky he was. He told you exactly how to do your hair and make up, where to shave and where not to shave, even down to you fucking perfume— it just had to be something sweet like vanilla. You were glad that all of the details were discussed over the phone because you would’ve rolled your eyes and laughed in his face at all of his demands.

He also told you exactly how to act— submissive, obedient, subservient. You’re not normally that kind of submissive, but, again, you agreed simply because of the money.

Staring at the clock on the nightstand, your foot bounced incessantly as you waited for him. You’ve never been this nervous for a client. He’s paying you so much money… what if you fuck something up? It was almost ironic that your overthinking was putting you into the headspace he requested.

At 8:59, you moved down to the floor and waited on your knees with your head down, like he requested. Your heart pounded in your chest from the anticipation and it took everything you had to keep your head down when you heard the door open.

Even though you’re used to fucking ugly, old men, you prayed Robert would be an exception, but you knew that being hot on top of how much he was paying you would be too good to be true. He sounded decently young on the phone, but you still had no indication on whether or not he’s actually attractive. You heard him walking somewhere in the room, then glass clinking, then a drink being poured.

“Less than a minute in and you’ve already disobeyed me.” He said calmly, making your heart drop. How?? You haven’t even done anything yet! He answered your silent question for you. “Hands behind your back.” You immediately complied, feeling a little dumb for forgetting something so simple. “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight since I’m assuming you’d prefer to leave here with the agreed upon amount?” You weren’t sure if his question was rhetorical or not. He let out a soft sigh and you heard his footsteps before he landed in front of you.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, sir. I do prefer that..” When you saw his hand moving forward you almost moaned at the sight of just his fingers. But your chance to admire them went far too quickly when he placed a single digit under your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat when you saw his face. You figured there was a small chance he might be attractive, but you didn’t actually think he’d be down right gorgeous. You bit your lip as your gaze trailed all over his face, taking in every inch.

“Did you do everything I instructed?” He released your chin and took a sip of his drink, still staring down at you.

“Yes, sir.” It felt like you were still in shock, just from seeing his face.

“Good. The dress looks nice.” You couldn’t help but blush at the compliment.

“Thank you.”

“Stand up.” You did as he said, then waited for the next instruction. “Give me a spin. I want to see if it was money well spent.” You blushed, but turned around for him. “Slower.” He suddenly said, making you freeze, then continue at a slower pace. He hummed in appreciation and you could practically feel his eyes running over every inch of you. When you were facing him again, you waited, watching as he downed the rest of his drink then walked over to the table to set it down. You didn’t move, not sure if you were allowed to or not, and he sat down in the arm chair, then cleared his throat.

“Show me the underwear.” You slowly lifted the dress until it was resting around your waist, exposing the lacy panties. “Come here.” You walked over and stood in front of him, trying to keep your breathing steady when he gently placed his hands on your thighs and snaked them up to your hips. He used his grip to turn you around, then moved one hand to grope your ass. You let out a surprised moan at the sudden spank and he hummed in approval again.

“Very good.” You had to swallow down a whine when his hands abruptly left your body. “Face me and get on your knees.” His eyes moved up and down your body, taking you in again as you did what he said. “Remove my shoes.” You reached toward his feet, but he stopped you. “Carefully. Just one of those is worth double what I’m paying you.” You nodded and gently untied the laces of his dress shoes before slipping them off his feet and placing them neatly on the ground beside the chair.

“Should I fuck your mouth? Or should I just get right to fucking your cunt.” You were mostly sure he was talking to himself and not actually asking you. He has you for two hours, so he has time for both. He seemed to finally come to a decision and he leaned back in the chair, staring down at you. “Be a good girl and show me how that lipstick looks on my cock.” He suddenly said, making arousal pool in your stomach.

“Yes, sir.” You squeezed your thighs together to relieve a little bit of the ache as you worked on opening his pants. Once his belt was unbuckled and his pants were unzipped, you pulled them and his underwear down just enough to free his length since he didn’t lift up to let you take them fully off. You stroked him slowly, marveling at how big he felt in your hand, even just half hard.

“Did I tell you to give me a hand job?” He asked impatiently.

“N-no, sorry…” You swallowed thickly and leaned closer to start mouthing at the tip. Your hand remained unmoving on the base just to keep it steady. He let out a pleased sigh as you suckled on the head of his cock, being sure to lick up any precum.

“Go on, whore. Let’s see if you’re worth what I’m paying.” You blushed as the crude name and squeezed your thighs together even tighter. Not wanting to make him get even more impatient, you started bobbing up and down his cock, keeping your tongue flat against the underside as you hallowed your cheeks. You moved your hand down to cup his balls as you took him a little deeper. When he let out a heavy breath and gently grabbed your hair, you looked up at him. You continued the same pace, sometimes flicking your tongue over the tip when you went up. After a while though, he huffed and tightened his grip on your hair.

“Are you one of those whores who can’t deepthroat? Because I don’t think I should be paying full price for a shitty blowjob.” You immediately took the hint and went down until he reached the back of your mouth. After taking a deep breath, you pushed the rest of the way, breaching your throat barrier. You focused mostly on stimulating his balls as you stayed buried on his cock for as long as you could take it. Only a few seconds later, you were pulling off, gasping in breaths and trying to calm down to do it all again. You took him in your mouth again, not stopping until he was buried in your throat.

“You can do better than that, whore.” He started moving you up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat with each bob of your head. It wasn’t long before you were choking and sputtering as tears filled your eyes. When he pulled you off, you coughed, but didn’t have a chance to collect yourself before he was pushing your face against his balls. You whimpered at the degrading act, trying to ignore the feeling of his spit soaked cock resting on your face.

When he tightened his grip on your hair and pushed you into him harder, you started mouthing at his balls. You licked and sucked, pushing down the embarrassment to focus on making him feel good. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this, but it is the first time you weren’t completely disgusted by it. Robert kept himself well groomed and you found yourself getting even needier despite how dirty and used you felt.

Once he’d had enough, he pulled you back and forced you down on his cock again, all but impaling your throat with how fast and hard he did it. You gagged instantly, but he ignored it and started using your mouth the same way he would a fleshlight. On a particularly harsh thrust, you let out a strangled whimper and the tears in your eyes began to fall.

“Stop fucking whining.” He spat. It almost seemed like he started going faster simply because of how much you were struggling to take it. Your hands grabbed his thighs, digging your fingers into the covered skin, and he used his free hand to slap your cheek. “Hands behind your back.” He scolded and you hesitated, but eventually obeyed. The next time he forced you all the way down, he held you there, keeping a firm grip on your hair to prevent you from moving.

“Stick your tongue out.” You did your best to do what he said. “Good girl. Lick my balls.” You let out a strangled sob at the utterly vulgar and degrading order. Regardless, you stuck your tongue out farther and did your best to lick them. “Look at me.” Your teary eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze and he let out a breathy groan at the sight. “No waterproof mascara, just like I said.” He said almost proudly as he used his free hand to cup your cheek and brush his thumb over what you assumed were mascara tracks.

When you started gagging and sputtering and trying to pull off, he let go of your hair, letting you move back. You coughed lightly and cleared your throat, doing your best to collect yourself somewhat quickly.

“On the bed. Face down, ass up.”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was already hoarse. You stood up on shaky legs, feeling unstable in your too high heels, and walked over to the bed to kneel on it. He remained sitting on the chair, watching you closely. When you leaned down to rest your head and chest on the bed, a light blush tinted your cheeks.

“Arch your back.” You could faintly hear wet noises and the knowledge that he was jerking off just to the sight of you almost had you moaning and squirming. You arched your back, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “More. Spread your legs apart.” You shuffled your knees out and bent your back even more, starting to feel the strain and discomfort. When he didn’t respond, you assumed he was happy with the position.

“Do you always get this wet when you're working?” His tone was far too innocent for the vulgar question he asked. Your blush darkened even more once you realized that your arousal was already soaking the fabric of your underwear.

“No, sir..”

“Speak up.” He snapped.

“No, sir.” You said again, a little louder this time.

“Is it the money that turns you on?” His voice was closer now, like he was standing at the foot of the bed.

“No.” Even though the money definitely helped, it was primarily because of him.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you tell me what it is that’s getting you all worked up then.” With the way that he spoke, you could tell he already knew and just wanted to tease you about it.

“You, sir.”

“Me? What about me?” You hated the way that he was playing dumb like this, but you mostly hated the fact that it turned you on.

“Y-your cock… And the things you do and say to me.” This was almost more humiliating than sucking on his balls with his cock laying heavy on your face. You felt the bed dip as he presumably kneeled behind you.

“You want my cock?”

“Please, sir.” You tried not to whine when you spoke.

“I’m not entirely convinced you really want it.” You couldn't swallow down the whine this time.

“Please, sir. I want your cock.” You begged, unconsciously pushing your hips back. “Please fuck me,” You jumped when you felt his hands on your ass, then moaned loudly when he ripped a hole in the crotch of your underwear. “Please— I need you to fuck me, sir.” You whined.

“That’s better.” You gasped when the head of his cock dragged through your folds, spreading your arousal. He finally pushed in and you fisted the sheets as your lips parted in a silent moan. He’s just so fucking big. It’s not that you can’t take it, it’s just that he’s filling every part of you perfectly, satisfying every craving you have.

“Fuck— Oh fuck,” You moaned, burying your face in the bed to muffle your sounds. Once his hips were flush with your ass, he didn’t bother giving you a chance to adjust before starting a slow pace.

“You’re pretty tight for a whore.” He commented casually, making you sob out a moan. You’ve never particularly liked being called a whore, but for some reason when he says it, you just just get infinitely more turned on. “I half expected I’d need to fuck your ass instead.” He said amusedly.

“Sir,” You gasped out, arching your back more and pushing your hips toward him. “Please.”

“Please?”

“Please go faster, or harder— anything.” You begged pathetically. You’ve never genuinely begged a client for something like this.

“I didn’t know I was paying you to make demands.” You whined, a little too bratty for his liking based on the way he slapped your ass hard enough to leave it stinging for a few seconds. “You’re not some girl I picked up and took home. You’re my whore for the night. Fucking act like it.” You couldn’t help but mewl at his words.

“I-I’m sorry. You just feel so good, sir.” All of a sudden, his hand was grabbing your hair and pulling your head back until you were looking at the ceiling. You held yourself up with your hands on the bed, but the position was still uncomfortable.

“Every time you talk back, you lose a hundred.” He warned, making you whine. “That includes whining.” He spanked you again with his free hand and you cried out at the sting. “Do you understand?”

“Yes! Yes, sir, I understand.” As soon as you got the words out, he shoved your head forward and released your hair. Your face landed against the bed with a startled grunt that cut off into a moan when he sped up. He was still going far too slow, but you bit your lip to keep yourself from whining or begging.

“Even as a whore you’re fucking useless.” He scoffed. You let out a choked sob and grabbed the sheets harder. He sped up even more, forcing out little grunts and whimpers from you with each thrust. You ached to reach a hand down to your clit, but you knew you couldn’t. Not after his warning about “making demands.”

“Fuck— I’m already close.” You couldn’t help but notice how pretty his voice sounded as he continued becoming more and more breathless from the pleasure.

“Remember to pull out.” You said, breaking character for a moment. On the phone, when he asked if you had any rules or limits, the only thing you said was that he can’t come inside. You don’t care if he fucks you raw, just so long as he pulls out. With a frustrated growl, he flipped you onto your back, immediately pushing back in to keep fucking you.

“How much?” He leaned over you, his face level with yours. The feeling of his breath fanning your lips was making it hard to think.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“To come inside. How much?” His pace was becoming even more frantic and he was beginning to pant heavily from the exertion.

“Robert…”

“Name your price. What do you want? Ten grand?” Your eyes widened at his offer. “Fifteen?” There’s no way he’s being serious right now. When he noticed your disbelief, he paused, then reached in his pants pocket to pull out his wallet and toss it on the bed next to you. When your disbelief turned into confusion, he explained. “A down payment.” His thrusts picked back up again, forcing a moan out of you as he resumed the unrelenting pace. “Well?” You glanced at the wallet, seeing how much cash was inside, then let out a heavy breath.

“Fuck— fine. Fine.” You could immediately see the shift in his expression, showing how pleased he was with your answer.

“Good girl. I might just have to hire you again.” He grinned at the thought and you felt your stomach fill with butterflies. “Now why don’t you be a good little whore and beg me to fill you up.” His grin turned into a smirk and he started fucking you even more desperately somehow.

“Please fill me up. I want your come, sir.” You whined, back arching up into him. Despite your rule, part of you was being truthful. The thought of him fucking his come into your needy, abused hole was enough to make you clamp down on his cock, forcing a choked moan out of him. “Please!”

Without another word, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and rutted into you until he finally fell over the edge. He grunted with each snap of his hips, his panting breaths feeling hot against your neck. You squeezed around his cock again, wanting to make it as pleasurable for him as possible. Based on his low moan, it was working.

He finally stilled and his sounds quieted into heavy breathing as he put some of his weight on you, letting himself rest without actually crushing you. Even though you were submissive enough right now to mostly only care about his pleasure, part of you was still disappointed that you wouldn’t get a chance to come on his cock.

When his breathing calmed down, he lifted himself up to sit on his knees and slowly dragged out. He pushed your legs up, so you took the initiative and held them close to your chest for him. At the first sight of his come trickling out of you, he released a contented groan.

“Fuck… Fifteen it is.” He said through a breath. Your holes fluttered as you pushed out more of his come, making him curse under his breath. “Take off the fucking dress before I rip it off and make you go home nude.” He threatened, making you instantly release your legs and scramble to take it off. He ripped your underwear clean off your body, then flipped you onto your stomach.

“What are you doing?” You gasped, when he straddled your thighs and lined his cock up with your hole again.

“I paid for two hours. I’m not stopping until I either run out of time, or run out of come.” You choked on your spit at his words, feeling too flustered to figure out how to respond. Before you could even attempt to just think of something to say, he was pushing back in, ridding your head of all thoughts except for him and his cock.

When you woke up the next day, you saw that he had transferred the original price, plus fifteen thousand. You blinked rapidly and rubbed your eyes, thinking that you read it wrong in your sleepy state, but the number was clear as day. As was the memo reading: You’ll hear from me again soon.

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#robert fischer smut #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #inception #cillian murphy

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wholoveseggs · 1 month

Note

Heyy gorgeous! I’m here once again lol. I was thinking about enemies to lovers this time. Elijah and reader despise each other. She’s always getting on his nerves and he’s always making her embarrassed etc etc. She’s also misbehaving - like interrupting him mid sentence, being sassy and he’s just trying to hold it together. One day they get into a fight or they have to train together (like he did with Gia in s.2) and there’s just too much sexual tension between them. Some angry sex and so on…? Thank youuu🥰

Misbehavior

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah Mikaelson is controlling, arrogant and absolutely infuriating, you don't know how anybody can stand him. That is... until he gets you in his bed.

♡♡ Thanks for the request lovely @msveronicag ! I love this idea so much and I got a little carried away with it ♡♡

8.2k words - Warnings: smut, dom!elijah, blowjobs, choking, spanking, rough sex, tinsy bit of ass play, Elijah being a smug little control freak...

You were back in New Orleans, visiting your old friend Marcel. He turned you nearly fifty years ago and he had always been a mentor figure for you. You left the city to go travel the world and discovered everything it had to offer. But you always remembered your roots, and Marcel was still the man you looked up to the most. So, when he called, asking if you wanted to come help him keep the peace and order in the city, you were happy to agree.

You knew the Originals had arrived in town and you were interested in meeting them. They were an endlessly fascinating bunch of lunatics from what you heard, and you couldn't wait to meet them.

But when you finally got the chance, you were surprised by a few things, number one, they were all ridiculously hot.

And number two, you instantly hated Elijah Mikaelson.

He was just so arrogant and stuck up. His constant use of posh words annoyed you to no end, and his perfect hair was just begging to be ruffled.

He just strolled into Marcel's loft one day and started giving orders. Talking to Marcel in a way that immediately pissed you off. You didn't like to hear your friend being talked to like he was beneath anyone, and so you spoke up.

"Excuse me," You drawled lazily, looking up from where you were perched on Marcel's couch. "Just because you're some original pain in the ass doesn't mean you get to control everything."

Elijah was clearly used to being obeyed. He slowly turned to you, regarding you with that arrogant sneer you came to detest in just a matter of minutes. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes unflinchingly.

"I beg your pardon?" He asked, looking at you as if he could barely see you.

You hated when someone pretended not to hear or understand something. Especially when they understood perfectly well, but were hoping for you to be scared into backing down. Well, that wasn't happening.

"If you didn't understand, I'll repeat it in simple terms that even your elderly ears will comprehend," You snapped at him, standing up to meet his eyes more equally. "Be. Nice."

He gave you a slow, crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes, then he looked back to Marcel with his eyebrows raised. "Are you going to control your little pet?"

You saw red, and opened your mouth to respond, but Marcel gave you a look that screamed 'don't', so you kept quiet, glaring at Elijah.

You couldn't stand the man, the way he would always be wearing a suit, his perfectly styled hair, and those dark, judgmental eyes that seemed to always be on you, looking down at you.

He was just one of those rich assholes who saw a regular person like you as something lesser, and you weren't going to let him walk over you. You'd think after living for one thousand years he would have gained some insight on human behavior, but no, he was just an old, pompous jerk.

You weren't sure what the hell Elijah and his siblings had done to Marcel to make him act the way he did around the Mikaelsons. But he was different around them. More obedient and less himself. You didn't like how the Originals acted like they owned the city.

Regardless, you weren't stupid enough to make enemies out of them. They were valuable allies, so you kept quiet for the most part, and just rolled your eyes and sighed whenever Elijah would open his arrogant mouth.

Marcel needed you to help train some new vampires that had turned recently. You would have them do drills and spar. Things were going well, the new recruits acclimating well to their new state of being.

When you saw Elijah and Marcel enter the room, you immediately felt defensive, you knew that prick was going to say something.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him, his presence putting everyone on edge.

"Keep training," You said, gesturing for them to keep practicing. They were hesitant at first, but did as you instructed.

You walked towards Elijah and Marcel, trying to get the man to leave before he said something wrong and ruined their progress. You stood between the two men and looked up at Elijah with a forced, tight smile.

"Is there something you need? I'm a little busy here." You told him.

He raised his eyebrows at your tone, looking at you as if he was studying you, his eyes moving from the top of your head to your feet, and it felt like he was stripping you naked. He glanced around the room at the others with an amused smirk, and it irked you to no end. He turned his eyes back to you, tilting his head.

"They're not doing very well, are they?" He said, looking down at the trainees.

One of the vampires completely missed their punch and fell over, they were still adjusting to how strong they had become.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "They're new, they're not perfect yet. And you're not helping, your presence is distracting them." You told him. You weren't about to admit he was right. You weren't going to give him that satisfaction.

“They need a proper example on how to fight,” He smirked and looked at Marcel. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order."

Marcel nodded, then stepped forward. "Come on, I'll show them." He said.

But Elijah shook his head, holding his hand up. "I'm not talking about you."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "I'm not sparring with you, Elijah. You're too powerful." You told him.

You weren't scared, you knew you could handle yourself. But, he was an original, and you were just a vampire. He would win, easily. And you had no interest in being humiliated by him.

"It's just a friendly match, it doesn't have to be a contest," He said, and you didn't believe him for a second. "Unless you're afraid of getting hurt." He taunted.

You could tell he was enjoying this, he had a small smile on his face, his eyes shining with amusement. He knew you couldn't back down. If you did, he'd call you weak, and a coward. That's just the kind of guy he was.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, getting into a defensive position.

"Ready?" He asked, and you nodded.

Before you could even react, he punched you, and you went flying across the room, landing on your side, and you heard him chuckle. "This is who you got to train your recruits Marcellus?"

You growled and stood, launching yourself at him, and he dodged your hits easily. He grabbed you and twisted your arm, holding it behind your back, and you hissed at the pain. He pulled you closer, and his lips were next to your ear. "Yield."

"Never," You snarled, and he laughed.

"So, prideful, but I can break your arm and force you to yield." He said, twisting your arm more.

"C'mon Elijah, let her go," Marcel said, and Elijah smirked.

"As you wish," Elijah said, releasing your arm, and you turned to face him, glaring. "I thought you were stronger than that, but I was clearly mistaken."

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that hurt.

"I think that's enough for today," Marcel said to the vampires, and they all filed out, leaving the three of you alone.

"I don't know why you insist on acting the way you do," Elijah said, shaking his head. "It's quite unbecoming."

You raised your eyebrows. "Oh yeah, and how exactly do I act?" You challenged.

"Childish and impulsive." He answered, and you scoffed. "You need to learn some manners." He added.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. He was insulting you, and talking down to you, and it just pissed you off even more.

"Enough, both of you," Marcel said, getting in between the two of you. "You're both acting like children."

"Maybe because I'm dealing with a child," You muttered under your breath, and Marcel gave you a stern look.

"She's disrespectful, and ungrateful," Elijah said. "Perhaps I should teach her a lesson in obedience." He threatened, his eyes flashing darkly.

"No one needs to be taught a lesson in anything," Marcel said, looking pointedly at you. "Just. Stop." He sighed. "Both of you, just stop. I have a headache, and you two arguing isn't helping."

You glared at Elijah, and he glared back, but neither of you said anything. Marcel let out a long sigh and walked away, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I need a drink," He muttered.

You watched him go, feeling a little guilty for upsetting him. He had a lot on his mind and he needed your help, not your petty arguments with Elijah.

"He's right, you know," Elijah said, and you turned your glare on him.

"You think I'm the problem? You're the one who antagonizes me, and talks down to everyone. What's your deal, anyways?" You asked, crossing your arms.

His lips turned up into a smug smile, "I'm not trying to upset you. I'm simply stating the truth."

"I don't like you." You said, shaking your head.

"The feeling is mutual," He said, and you raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" You asked, and he laughed, moving closer to you.

"You constantly have your mouth open, yet nothing of substance comes out. You look down on me, despite knowing nothing of my past, and you think I owe you something. Your insolence is tiresome, and I'm sick of seeing your face." He said, his eyes boring into yours, and his gaze was so intense it was hard to maintain eye contact.

He was so close to you now, and his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up. "Your mere presence is distracting."

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. You were angry, but you also wanted him. You hated that, but it was a truth you were having a hard time denying. You couldn't stop your eyes from moving over his body, and the way his stupid suit fit him so well, showing off his body.

"Well I think you are a self-righteous prick who can't accept the fact that people are allowed to have opinions that differ from yours. Just because you've lived for a millennia doesn't mean your opinion is more valuable than mine." You said, your eyes going to his lips, then back up. "You need to chill the fuck out and not take yourself so seriously. We aren't all your fucking minions. We don't all bow down and worship you."

He leaned in and his breath was fanning over your face. "You have got me all wrong."

"I don't think I do," You said, tilting your head up. "And you don't scare me."

His lips curved into a smirk and his eyes looked down at your lips, his hands coming up and gripping your waist.

And then he was kissing you.

His lips moved slowly over yours, and his hand cupped your jaw. He kissed you with such tenderness and care that you didn't know how to react. You didn't know if he was just using this as a way to humiliate you, but you were too far gone, and you kissed him back.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you couldn't stop yourself, and you didn't care anymore. He pulled you closer and his tongue swiped at your lower lip, and you let him in, moaning softly as his tongue moved over yours. He was an excellent kisser, and it annoyed you as much as it turned you on.

He pulled back, a smug smile on his face, "that's what I thought."

You blushed and looked away, your head spinning from the kiss. "Asshole."

He laughed and stepped away from you, adjusting his tie, "You're welcome."

You were so annoyed and flustered, and you glared at him. "Fuck off."

He chuckled and left, leaving you standing there, confused and aroused.

He was infuriating.

You had decided to leave New Orleans. You hated that Elijah was getting to you, and you didn't want to risk him using your feelings against you. You knew it was a mistake, he was messing with you in ways you didn't even think possible. You knew about his reputation of being manipulative and cruel, and you weren't going to get sucked into his game.

You had everything ready to go, you just had to tell Marcel. He would understand, although you weren't going to tell him about Elijah kissing you. That was just embarrassing.

But when you got to his loft, the only person there was Elijah. Sitting on the sofa, reading a book. He looked so good he was practically glowing, and you wanted to punch him for it.

He didn't look up from his book, "Marcel is out."

"I'll come back later," You said, turning, but he was in front of you, blocking the exit.

"We need to have a little chat," He said, looking down at you, and you sighed, crossing your arms.

"About what?" You asked, tapping your foot anxiously and looking at the door, wishing you could escape.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked, and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"I'm not avoiding you, I have better things to do than waste my time with an arrogant prick," You said, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"That's not true," He said, taking a step closer, and you took a step back, not liking the intensity of his gaze.

"Yes, it is." You said, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Why did you come here?" He asked, moving closer again, and you walked backwards until your back hit the wall, and he was caging you in.

"To tell Marcel I am leaving." You said, and he cocked his head.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and you frowned.

"Away."

"Why?" He asked, leaning forward, his face inches from yours.

"Fuck off." You said, exasperated by his line of questioning, it was none of his business.

His eyes flashed dangerously and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, holding them tightly.

"You are not as smart as you think you are," he growled, his lips inches away from yours.

You could feel his arousal pressing against your stomach, his hips pushing into yours.

"Neither are you," you snarled, trying to get out of his grip.

But he held your wrists tightly and leaned down, his teeth scraping against your neck.

"You talk so much, yap, yap, yap. But you never say anything meaningful," he whispered, his breath hot on your ear, "perhaps I should put your mouth to better use."

Your heart was beating frantically and your pussy was soaked. The tension between the two of you was finally breaking and the hatred was dissolving into something else entirely.

"I'd love to see you tr-"

His mouth was on yours before you could finish your sentence. It was rough and needy, his fangs digging into your lip, and his hands still pinning your wrists above your head.

His knee moved between your thighs and you moaned, rubbing yourself on his leg.

Elijah chuckled darkly, his tongue tracing the wound he'd made.

"How pathetic," he murmured, his hips rolling forward, his hard cock pressing against your core.

"So is your dick," you lied, trying not to gasp at the sensation, it definitely didn’t feel pathetic.

His fingers dug into your wrists, his eyes flashing with amusement and arousal. His free hand slipped underneath your dress, stroking your wet pussy.

"And yet here you are, dripping wet, and ready for me," he smirked, his fingers slowly circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Wearing a cheap, skimpy dress, practically begging me to fuck you,"

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," you groaned, your hips moving in rhythm with his hand.

He slid his middle finger inside your cunt, pumping it in and out, his palm grinding against your clit.

"Oh so, this is all just a figment of my imagination, is it?" He asked, adding another finger.

Your legs were shaking, and your breathing was heavy. You couldn't think straight, his fingers were hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck," you moaned, your back arching.

He kissed you hungrily, his tongue dominating your mouth, and his fingers pumping faster.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his teeth grazing your neck.

"No," you moaned, but your hips were moving on their own, seeking release.

"I wasn't asking, darling," he growled, his eyes meeting yours, compelling you, "Cum."

His voice echoed in your head, and you could feel the wave of pleasure wash over you. Your orgasm ripped through you, his fingers still moving inside you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

You were trembling, your legs barely holding you up, and your brain fuzzy.

He let go of your wrists, and pulled his fingers out of you, before licking them clean. He took a step back, smiling at the look on your face as he adjusted his cufflinks.

"Now, on your knees," he commanded.

Your legs obeyed immediately, sinking down and looking up at him.

"What a lovely sight," he said, smirking.

He cupped your chin, running his thumb over your lips.

"I've been imagining your lips around my cock, since the first day I saw you," he said, unbuckling his belt, giving your cheek a little slap.

"Now open up and take it all,"

You opened your mouth and he shoved his cock inside. He was big, bigger than anyone you had ever sucked off. And he wasn't shy about using his power to keep you in place. His hands were tangled in your hair, tugging and pulling, and his cock was hitting the back of your throat.

Your eyes were watering, but he didn't care, he kept going, using your mouth, making you gag. He felt amazing on your tongue, hot and hard, and the taste of him was driving you crazy. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the more he fucked your mouth, and your hips were rocking, desperate for friction.

"Look at you, taking it so well, such a good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming deeper, and his voice sounding strained.

Your eyes met his, your mascara running down your cheeks. He looked so good, his lips parted and his eyes glazed with lust. His dominating nature was intoxicating, and you were drunk on his cock. The feeling of him sliding down your throat, and his moans of pleasure, made you feel so good, it was addictive. Your hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit, and making yourself moan around his cock.

He slapped your face gently, tutting.

"Naughty girl," he said, his voice a low rumble, "keep touching yourself, and I'll punish you."

You looked up at him, and rubbed yourself faster, daring him to stop you.

His eyes darkened, and he pushed himself deep inside your mouth, his cock pulsing as he cummed down your throat.

"Swallow it," he ordered, and you did, licking his cock clean.

You were a mess, your makeup smeared, and your body trembling with need. You wanted to be fucked. So. Badly.

Elijah looked at you, a smirk playing on his lips. He grabbed you by your hair and pulled you to your feet, his eyes roaming over your body.

"Such a pretty thing," he said, pushing you back against the wall, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin of your neck, "I knew you could behave."

He pulled his handkerchief out and wiped the tears and mascara from your face, before putting it away.

"There we are," he smiled, tucking his cock back into his pants, and buckling his belt.

"Are you not going to fuck me?" You asked, frustrated that he was leaving you unsatisfied.

"Oh no, my dear, that's your punishment," he said, grabbing a bottle of scotch and pouring a glass. He glanced up at you, seemingly confused on why you were still standing there, and nodded towards the door.

"You may go,"

You huffed, and walked towards the door, feeling angry and humiliated. But his voice stopped you.

"Oh, and darling?"

You turned and saw him grinning at you.

"Don't think I'm done with you,"

You were definitely leaving now, you had to. You couldn't stand another moment in New Orleans. The way Elijah had used you and humiliated you. You couldn't handle it, you had to get away. You needed to be as far away from him as possible.

But Marcel insisted that you come to a party he was hosting, it was a goodbye celebration for you. And you didn't want to let him down, he was one of the few friends you had.

You were packing your things, planning on leaving immediately after the party, when you heard a knock on your door.

You opened it to find a large box, wrapped in beautiful silver paper and tied with a blue ribbon. There was a card attached to it, and you picked it up, curious to know who it was from.

Wear this. I will be picking you up at 8 – E

You groaned, not wanting to see him. You had been doing your best to avoid him, and this was not helping.

The dress he had sent over was gorgeous, it was black and long, and the fabric was silky. The straps were thin and delicate, and the cut was low, and it was sexy, but not revealing. It was an expensive designer brand that was impossible to get, and the fact that he had somehow just had one that was your size pissed you off.

He was so smug and cocky, and the worst part was, he had great taste, and the dress was perfect. You didn't want to like anything about him, he was even good at being infuriating.

At exactly eight a car arrived to pick you up, and Elijah was in the backseat, waiting. He was dressed impeccably, and his eyes roamed over you, a smirk forming on his lips.

"You look stunning," he said, as you sat down, and the driver pulled away. "It's nice to see you in fine clothing."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the compliment, and staring out the window. His hand went to your thigh, pushing up the dress a little to reveal the top of the stockings you were wearing.

"Is this for me? How thoughtful."

You swatted his hand away, giving him a glare. "I don't dress for any man. I dress for myself,"

"Of course, I would expect nothing less from a strong independent woman," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, refusing to engage with him. He leaned over, his lips brushing your ear, and his fingers sliding over your thigh. "You do lots of other things for a man though, don't you?"

You bit your lip, the memory of being on your knees for him, and how good it felt to have him fuck your mouth, flooded your mind. You kept your composure, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"No," you said, glancing at him.

He chuckled and put his arm around you, his fingers dancing along your bare shoulders. You wanted to push him away, but the heat of his body was nice, and you didn't hate the way his touch made you feel.

"We shall see about that."

When you arrived at Marcel's party, you were greeted with cheers, the local vampires loved any excuse to celebrate.

Marcel gave you a hug and poured you a drink, "I'm going to miss having you around, but I understand."

You gave him a smile and took a sip of your drink. "I can never stay in one place for long,"

"I know, and that's what I admire about you," he said, before turning to a vampire who had come to talk to him.

You were standing alone, looking around at the crowd of people. Trying to avoid Elijah, but also keeping an eye out for him.

"Having a good time?"

His voice made you jump and you turned to find him standing behind you, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"It's alright," you shrugged, trying to act cool, and not like you had just been caught looking for him.

"You seem lonely," he said, leaning closer.

"I'm fine, thank you," you said, taking a step back, but his hand reached out, grabbing your arm, and pulling you against him.

"You keep lying, why is that?" He whispered, his breath warm on your ear.

You shook your head, your heart racing. You could feel his body pressed against yours, and his lips ghosting over your skin.

"Is it because you're attracted to me?" He asked, his tongue darting out and licking the shell of your ear.

"No," you said, but your voice was unsteady, and your breath caught.

"Oh, so you just suck any man's cock then? That's an interesting hobby."

You tried to move away, but his grip tightened, and he turned you to face him. His expression was teasing, but his eyes were dark and intense.

"I apologize, I'm not usually so crude. It's just that seeing you in this dress..," he trailed off, his eyes roaming over your curves, his voice thick with lust.

You blushed, your skin burning, and your pussy getting wet. He was so close, his hands sliding down your body, his touch setting your nerves alight.

"I don't like you," you said, but it sounded weak, and he grinned.

"I know," he murmured, his fingers finding their way under the hem of your dress, dancing along the bare skin above your stockings.

"So why are you letting me touch you?" He asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"Because you are irritatingly fucking hot," you admitted, your body melting into his, his closeness clouding your senses.

"Ah, and there is that honesty I have been searching for," he smirked, his hands gripping your ass.

"Shut up," you said, your eyes locked on his. "Why must you be so arrogant?"

"It's not arrogance, it's confidence. You should try it sometime."

He was smiling now, his eyes twinkling. He had truly pissed you off with his boundless ego and you were done with him. You gave him a little push and then stormed out the exit. Marcel would have to understand, you just had to leave this stupid city, right now.

Elijah followed you, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you into a side room, away from the noise and bustle of the party.

"Have I upset you?" He grinned, pressing you against the wall.

"Yes," you seethed, your jaw clenched, and your blood boiling. You pushed hard on his chest, but he didn't budge, just looked down at your hands with an amused expression.

"What can I do to make it better?" He asked, pressing his palms into the wall on both sides of your head.

"Fuck off."

His grin widened, and he leaned in, his nose nuzzling against yours.

"No," he said, his lips brushing over yours. "I don't think I will,"

Your eyes closed as his mouth captured yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, his lips moving slowly, exploring yours. It was intoxicating, his taste and scent overwhelming. You felt yourself giving in once again, kissing him back, your hands clutching his shirt, pulling him closer.

He hummed, pleased, and his hand slipped behind your head, angling your mouth for deeper access. He was such a control freak, and it only turned you on more.

"You like me," he stated between kisses, his hips rocking forward, his cock hard and straining against his pants.

"No I don't ," you lied, trying to ignore how good his body felt against yours, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And yet, here you are," he smirked, his fangs scraping along the skin, "ready and willing."

You moaned, tilting your head to the side, and allowing him better access. He ran his fangs along your pulse point, nipping at the skin.

"Tell me you don't want me, and I'll stop," he whispered, his hands pulling the straps of your dress down, his mouth trailing kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

"I don't," you moaned, even though you knew it wasn't true. You wanted him, desperately.

"Naughty little liar," he said in a teasing tone, his hands squeezing your breasts, and his thumbs rubbing over the hard peaks of your nipples. He was getting you so worked up, it was so infuriating and so arousing.

He suddenly stopped touching you, moving back and leaning against the wall across from you, acting like nothing happened, his hands clasped in front of him.

You looked at him, confused and turned on.

"What the fuck?"

"Tell me you want me," he said, his expression smug.

"I hate you," you replied, frustrated, scowling at him and trying to fix your dress.

"That's not an answer."

"I'm not going to beg for it," you snapped, annoyed and desperate. You hated that he had this effect on you. You wanted him so bad, but he was making you work for it, and the game was getting old. But there was a part of you that liked it, the way he was challenging you, the power play, it was hot. But he was pushing his luck.

"I’m just going to go find someone else," you said, trying to sound cool and disinterested, but failing miserably. You were too flustered, your skin flushed, and your breath short.

He laughed, shaking his head and holding out his hand, gesturing for you to take it. "I don't think so," he said, a smirk playing on his lips, "come here."

You looked at him, hesitating, but your desire won out, and you placed your hand in his.

He smirked, his fingers interlacing with yours, and he guided you upstairs. His pace was slow, leisurely, and it was maddening.

"I thought you lived at the compound?" You asked, following him down a hallway.

"I have multiple residences," he said, unlocking a door and pushing it open.

You rolled your eyes, of course he did, he was so fucking extra.

"After you," he said, his eyes shining with amusement.

"How chivalrous," you muttered, stepping inside.

His loft was elegantly decorated, with a large four poster bed, and expensive art on the walls. It was so very him, but you kinda liked it. His taste was refined, and the space was masculine and sexy. You could already picture how the night was going to go, him fucking you on the large bed, the curtains drawn, and his fangs in your neck. Your pussy clenched at the thought, and you bit your lip. This man had you all twisted up, and he had barely even touched you.

His hands found your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, and his lips brushed the back of your neck. "Do you like what you see?" He murmured, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass.

"It's alright," you smirked, turning and wrapping your arms around his neck. "The view's pretty good," you teased, looking into his eyes.

"Get on the bed," he murmured, his breath hot on your skin.

"Or what?" You teased.

He didn't say a word, just stared at you, his gaze intense. You felt a rush of adrenaline, and excitement, and you decided to push your luck. He was so cocky, and it was time to put him in his place. You stood your ground, trying to maintain eye contact, but it was impossible, he was so dominating. He gripped your hips, and lifted you up, throwing you onto the bed. You landed with a bounce, and he was on top of you, his hands pinning your wrists above your head.

You giggled and tried to break free, using your forearms to try and push him away. He was such a powerful man, and it made you feel vulnerable, but in a good way. In a way that had your pussy soaking, and your skin burning. He smiled and nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Behave," he warned, his lips moving down to your chest, and his fingers tugging at the top of your dress.

"Make me," you taunted, knowing it would set him off.

He ripped the dress off of you, making you gasp in surprise, and he sat back, his gaze roaming over your body, clad in nothing but the lingerie and stockings.

"I don't have any other clothes here, asshole!" you whined, annoyed that he had destroyed your beautiful dress.

"I'll buy you more," he said, his voice husky and deep, "so many more,"

He slid down, his tongue running over the swell of your breast, his hand pulling the lace fabric aside. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, and bit down, his fangs sinking into your flesh. You cried out, the pain mixing with the pleasure, and the sound of his low growls vibrating through you.

You squirmed and pulled this hair, trying to get him to stop, but he just bit down harder. Your back arched and you whimpered, tears forming in your eyes.

"Elijah!"

He released you, and licked the wound, sealing the bite, and making the pain subside.

"Are you done being a brat?" He asked, his hands stroking your sides.

"Yes," you panted, still trying to recover from the bite.

"Good," he murmured, his lips trailing down to your stomach.

He pulled at the band of one of your stockings, letting it snap against your thigh. He did the same to the other, humming softly as he did, before finally moving down, and burying his face between your legs.

He was frustratingly good with his tongue, his mouth sucking and licking, his hands spreading your thighs wide. You could feel the pleasure building, and your orgasm fast approaching. Your hands fisted in his hair, and you rolled your hips, trying to ride his face. But he held you still, controlling how much pleasure you received.

He eased two fingers inside you, slowly pumping them as his lips closed around your clit, his tongue swirling over it. You kicked your legs, the sensation was intense, and you were so close, the pressure building in your core.

He curled his fingers and the dam broke, a loud cry tearing from your throat as you came. He continued to work you, prolonging the bliss, and making you tremble.

He stopped and looked up at you. His face was glistening and his pupils were dilated, his eyes dark.

"Just admit that you like me," he teased, kissing your inner thigh.

"Not a chance," you smirked, still catching your breath.

He growled, and flipped you over, yanking your ass up, and spreading your cheeks.

"Then I'll have to make you," he said, his thumb tracing the seam of your asshole. His other hand coming down and spanking you, making you squeal in surprise.

He rubbed the sting, soothing the pain, and then smacked you again, this time a little harder. You gasped, burying your face in the pillows, and your fingers digging into the sheets. He alternated, slapping one cheek, and then the other, the pain becoming more intense each time.

"Elijah!"

He ignored you, his hand coming down on your ass, hard, and you cried out, your body shaking. He kept going, the blows landing faster and faster, and you were sure there were tears running down your face, the pain overwhelming.

He paused, his fingers ghosting over the heated skin.

"I'm sorry, am I being too rough?" He asked, his voice thick with sarcasm.

You glared over your shoulder at him, and he smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I thought you were a gentleman," you shot back, annoyed with him.

"I can be," he purred, his finger dipping lower, and tracing the entrance of your pussy, "when I want to,"

You moaned, pushing back against his hand, and his fingers pumped slowly. His other hand went to the back of your neck, pressing your face into the mattress, holding you still.

He added a third finger, stretching you, and making you whimper. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Just give in," he whispered, his voice husky and low. "It'll be so much easier."

You bit your lip, trying to fight it, but he was too skilled, and your will was fading. You moaned, rolling your hips, and grinding against his hand.

He pushed his thumb into your asshole, making you gasp, and he chuckled, his other fingers curling and hitting your g-spot. The stimulation was overwhelming, and the pleasure was building fast. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension in your core reaching its peak. He was relentless, his fingers and thumb pumping in and out, the sounds of your wetness filling the room. You were moaning, begging, pleading, the need for release consuming you.

"Tell me," he commanded, suddenly stopping. "Tell me how much you like me." His hand moved from the back of your neck and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, and making you gasp.

"Fine! Fine! I fucking like you, ok? I like you! I like your stupid face, and your stupid hair, and your stupid sexy accent, and your stupid dick!" You snapped, frustrated and desperate. You couldn't take the teasing anymore. "Are you happy now?!"

He chuckled, letting go of your hair, and pushing your head back into the pillow. He leaned down and kissed your ass cheek, his lips brushing against the hot, sore skin, before he moved, flipping you onto your back. He spread your legs, and settled between them, his fingers running along your thighs.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you, and kissing him hard, biting his bottom lip. You were tired of waiting, and you needed him. He growled, his hands cupping your face, and his tongue plunging into your mouth. The kiss was passionate and desperate, his body pressed flush against yours.

You unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, and running your fingers over his muscles, feeling the strength of his body. You then tugged at his belt, taking out his cock, and stroking him, your thumb swirling over the head.

He smiled and groaned as you touched him, his hips thrusting into your hand. You spread your legs wider, but he made no move to enter you, his hand moving between your thighs, and rubbing your clit. You moaned, the sensation too much, and you pulled at his wrist. He was being so fucking frustrating, and you wanted him inside you, now.

"Stop teasing me," you complained, glaring up at him.

"Why? its so much fun," he said, smiling wickedly. "I could watch you squirm for hours." He pushed the tip of his cock against your entrance, circling your clit, but still not penetrating you.

"Tell me again," he said, "tell me how you like me, how much you want me," his hips rocking, his cock pushing and withdrawing, but never going deep enough to satisfy you.

"You are an arrogant prick, who knows exactly what he does to me." You said, your breathing labored.

He smiled and slowly eased into you, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt him inch his way inside, and you moaned, your head rolling back. He filled you completely, stretching you, and making your body burn with pleasure. It felt incredible, your pussy throbbing around him. He groaned, and nipped at your neck, his fangs gliding against the skin. You clutched at him, your nails scratching his back, as his hips started moving, slowly fucking you.

You were already on the verge of orgasm, the tension coiling inside you, ready to snap. He felt too good, his cock hitting all the right spots, and his fingers playing with your clit. You were falling apart beneath him, your back arching, and your thighs quivering. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he affected you, as the waves of ecstasy washed over you, you bit down on your lip, trying to hide just how good he felt.

But it was no use, your body betraying you, your cheeks hot and your walls tightening around him. He smiled and kissed your neck, his tongue swirling over your pulse point.

"See, it's not so hard to give in," he purred, his hips slowly rolling.

"Shut up," you managed to get out, still panting, and your limbs weak.

"Already cumming on my cock, and we haven't even really started," he teased. He began to fuck you in earnest, thrusting hard and deep, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each stroke.

You gripped his biceps, your nails digging into his skin, and you could feel his muscles flexing under your touch. His cock was so thick, stretching you, you spread your legs wider, wanting him even deeper.

"Look at you, so desperate for me," he smirked, his hands moving to your hips, lifting them and changing the angle.

You moaned, and he chuckled, his lips ghosting over your neck.

"So responsive, and so beautiful. My sweet girl," he whispered, his words washing over you.

"I'm... fuck- not… your girl." you breathed, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your heart pounding in your ears.

"Maybe not yet, but you will be," he said, his voice confident, his eyes locking with yours.

He was so sure of himself, and it only turned you on more.

"You wish, Mikaelson."

He laughed, his breath warm on your skin. He thrust hard, hitting the spot deep inside, and making you cry out.

"I do," he said, his eyes searching yours, "and I always get what I want."

You knew it was true, he was so fucking cocky, and the worst part was, you wanted him to have you.

He leaned back, pulling you up with him, and holding you in his lap, his cock impossibly deep inside. His hands went to your hips, guiding your movements, and his eyes never left yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, rocking your hips, and taking him deeper. The way he was looking at you, intense, and possessive, it was doing things to you. You couldn't tear your gaze away, your chest heaving, and your nipples brushing against his chest. You squeezed his cock, trying to make him go harder, faster, but his pace remained steady, firm, his grip on your hips tightening. It was all too much and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by him, and everything you were feeling for him.

He groaned, and smacked your ass, hard. You whimpered and dug your nails into his shoulders. His hands ran up and down your back, soothing the sting.

"No hiding," he said, his voice firm. "I want to see all of you."

You lifted your head, meeting his eyes, your eyelids heavy, cheeks flushed and your mouth open in a silent moan.

"That's it," he murmured, his lips capturing yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. "Show me how much you like me," he teased, nipping at your lower lip.

You placed your hands on his chest, moving your legs to straddle him, and his cock slid deeper. You rocked back and forth, slowly at first, and then increasing the pace.

His expression was serious, his eyes fixed on you, and his hands holding your waist. It was like he was memorizing every inch of your body, and the way you felt, the way you moved. You could see the desire in his eyes, the lust, and something else, something softer.

"I like the way you're looking at me," you murmured, your nails dragging along his chest.

He hummed and grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back, his other arm wrapping around your waist, and pulling you flush against him.

"I like the way you feel," he replied, his hips rocking into you.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," you teased, knowing it would get a rise out of him.

"Only the ones I can't stop thinking about."

"Mmm, are there many of those?"

He laughed, shaking his head, and kissing your shoulder.

"None that compare to you."

His words, so unexpectedly sweet, made your heart flutter, and a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"Elijah..." you breathed, and he seemed pleased by your reaction.

His hands went to the small of your back and he pulled you closer, your breasts pressed against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, your skin warm and slick. The anticipation of what was to come sent a shiver down your spine. You threaded your fingers in his hair, gripping it as his hands went to your ass, guiding you on his cock.

"You don't have to leave, you can stay here with me," he said, his voice low and his eyes locked on yours.

You shook your head, not wanting to give in, not wanting him to know how much he affected you. How much you actually wanted that, wanted him.

"I don't like you that much," you replied, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

He smiled and kissed you again, his hand running down your back. You rolled your hips, grinding against him, your clit rubbing against his pelvis. Your movement picked up, and he moaned into your ear, his grip on your ass tighter. You could feel the pressure rising, the intensity becoming overwhelming. Your body tensed, your orgasm close, and Elijah gripped your hips and slowed you down, wanting to make the moment last.

"Stay?" He whispered, his nose nuzzling yours.

"You are so annoying," you muttered, and his chest rumbled with laughter.

"Is that a yes?"

You nodded, and his lips pressed against yours, his hands lifting you up and down. You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound. The kiss became messy, both of you chasing the pleasure, the friction and the heat almost unbearable. You broke the kiss, panting, and the coil in your core snapped.

You moaned his name in long, drawn out syllables, your forehead pressed against his. He held you tight, his body tense as your pussy clenched around his cock. He watched you, his breathing heavy, his eyes glazed with desire. His hands traced your spine, lightly grazing the skin, and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You could tell he was fighting the urge to cum, wanting to drag out the moment. You looked at him and gave him a small smile, no more teasing, no more games. You touched his cheek, and kissed him, the kiss soft and sweet. Your breath caught in your throat, the intimacy of the gesture overwhelming. His arms tightened around you, his lips moving against yours, and you knew he was falling too, his control failing him.

He let go of your hips, his fingers clutching your ass. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rode him hard and fast, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. He groaned into your mouth, his cock throbbing inside of you, and you felt him cum, his warmth flooding your body. You rested your head on his shoulder, catching your breath, and trying to make sense of what just happened. You never imagined that sleeping with Elijah would feel so right, so complete. Your mind kept telling you that this was a bad idea, but the connection between you was too strong to ignore.

He kissed your neck, his lips grazing the skin, and you let your eyes drift closed, succumbing to the warmth and comfort of his arms. He really was too good at this.

"I meant what I said, about you staying." He murmured, his breath tickling your ear. "I like you, a lot."

He pulled away, brushing a few errant strands from your face, his fingers lingering. His dark eyes held nothing but sincerity and you knew then, in that moment, that despite your resolve not to like him, this wasn't just going to be a one time thing.

"I know," you sighed, your hands stroking his jaw, "you are very persuasive."

He chuckled and kissed you again.

"You'll stay?" He asked, his smile growing.

"I'll stay."

"Good," he hummed, kissing your neck, and nipping at your earlobe.

His lips captured yours, and he kissed you, the passion and desire still burning. He kissed you until your lips were bruised and swollen, until your heart was pounding, and your skin was flushed.

"I still think you are an asshole," you said, once he'd pulled away.

"And I still think you are a brat," he smirked, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.

You laughed, and rested your head on his shoulder, enjoying the moment, the closeness, the warmth of his arms, and the steady beat of his heart.

You couldn't help but surrender.

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b-o-e · 1 year

Text

paint me like one of your french girls

Wally Darling x Reader

Warnings: you aren’t very good at painting lol

although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #2 :)

You weren’t the best painter, nor were you the best at picking up hints…

“... this is atrocious.”

You were not a painter. You were finding that much out right now.

“Well, don’t say that. It has me in it, so it can't be that bad, ha ha.” Wally jested.

Ehhh…

“Are you almost finished with it, neighbour?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m finished, but I’m almost ready to give up, yes,” you grumbled, the bristles of your brush carefully swiping some more paint onto the canvas. Yikes! Not carefully enough, it seems.

Wally noticed your grimace, laughing lightly. “It’s going to look good, I know it,” he claimed.

“You’re easily pleased, though,” you huffed, eyes flickering to him in a half-hearted glare. He giggled, shaking his head.

“I am honest,” he grinned, raising his right hand to swear on it. “Cross my heart, always and forever,” he promised, drawing the ‘x’ over his chest with a happy smile.

“At least I think I did Home some justice,” you snickered with a shrug. “You, not so much, Wally. I think you can still tell it’s you, though?”

“I’m sure I look amazing. Handsome!”

“I wouldn’t use that word for it, but the real you is?” You offered.

“Why, you’ll make me blush.”

You laughed lightly as you continued to paint, Wally remaining as still as a statue in his chosen position in front of home. His eyes never left you.

He loved the expressions you made. He just adored the twitch of your brow when you don’t quite approve of a detail, the silly grimace you wear when you’ve made a ‘mistake’, the way your tongue poked out a little when you were extra focussed... You were so entrancing!

“... going to start being a bit less uptight now,”

Wally hadn’t caught the first part, but figured out what you were saying.

“I guess I should probably give myself a little more credit than I am.” A little smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Oh! He enjoyed that expression most!

“I’m happy you say that,” Wally said, “I do mean it when I say I believe I will like it. Everyone has their own unique style. It’s nothing less than that,” he added, “plus, it’s made by you. That gives it extra special points!”

“Special, alright,” you joked quietly to yourself. It was definitely a unique piece, your painting.

“I just need to remind myself I don’t have much experience with this,” you sighed, “I need to cut myself some slack. I know practice is necessary to be as good as someone like you at this, and I haven’t put much of that in,”

“And if you were ever interested in such, I would always be around to offer my help if you so desire,” Wally assured.

“Thanks, Wally,” you tore your eyes away from your work, looking over at him. “I appreciate you. Always so sweet to me,” you sighed out dramatically. Unfortunately, your gaze didn't stick on him long enough to notice the redness growing on his cheeks from your compliments.

“Alas, I think I’m all done now,” you giggled, stepping back from your work. Now that you look it over, it really wasn’t too shabby, especially with your limited skill!

Wally stood up from his spot, starting his way over, as you turned the easel around so that he and Home could both see it. When Wally was close enough, he leaned forward a little, examining the painted canvas. Despite the knowledge that Wally would never judge you, your nerves twisted a little in your stomach as you watched his eyes study it with such intensity.

It was silent. He’s observed it for at least a minute now, not a word said.

…

“I know it’s-”

“It’s wonderful,” Wally cut you off, straightening his posture, his smile growing. “The absolute most, as is its creator,” he added as he looked at you. “Can I have it?” he asked, head tipping to the side.

“You… Want it?” you giggled sheepishly, peering over at your goofy little creation. Was it really nice enough for him to want to keep it?

“I love it, so of course I would like to have it. If you allow me to, of course,”

Your painting wasn’t much. To you, at least. To Wally on the other hand, it truly was extravagant.

It was cute. He and Home were nicely depicted together, Home painted quite well, and in his opinion, he himself had not looked nearly as bad as you’d been letting on.

His face had a cute, simple little smiley on it, as did the sun in the sky, two silly little features among others that you had added when you decided not to care so much anymore. It made him giggle. Overall, it was just yours, and that’s what really sealed the deal on his love for it.

“Hmm… where should I hang it, though? Maybe by the couch?” He wondered aloud, tapping his chin. “What do you think, Home?” He turned to face it, receiving quick excited waves and squeaks from the door. “Ha ha. I think that, too.”

“You actually want it?” You questioned,

“Of course,” Wally nodded. “Oh no! How impolite of me. I should be offering some sort of payment,” he realized.

“For this?” You laughed, looking back at the artwork. “I dont think it’s worth a whole lo–”

“Mwah!”

…

Huh?

You gaped at Wally, hand on your flushed cheek, right where his lips had been moments prior.

“Will that do?” He smiled.

You could only stare in disbelief, mind working overtime to process what had just happened.

“Neighbour?”

You laughed. You laughed, and you shook your head, hands covering your face. Oh, those silly little thoughts of yours!

“Oh my goodness, Wally,” you snickered. “Be careful with that! Someone might take it the wrong way,” you warned, a little giggle following.

“What do you mean, neighbour?” Wally questioned, brows furrowed. “Is kissing not a good thing?”

“I mean, it is, but there's two ways it can be perceived: platonically, or romantically,” you explained, rubbing at your face in an attempt to get rid of your blush with a cheeky smile.

“Think of it like this. Eddie and Frank kiss as a way to show their romantic love for each other. That's because they’re a couple,” you continued. “Are they who you learned it from?”

Wally stared at you for a moment, trying to comprehend all that you’ve said. Finally, his shoulders slumped slightly as he answered.

“... Yes,” he admitted, a bashful smile on his features.

“I figured,” you sniggered. “I mean, I’m not saying I didn’t like it or anything, but just keep what I said in mind,” you joked lightly with a playful wink, “but, we should find a place for this painting, shouldn’t we?” You placed your hands on your hips, looking between him and the piece.

“That sounds like a good idea, neighbour,” he agreed, carefully picking up the dried painting, grabbing the easel in his other hand.

“Let’s do that, then,”

…

“So, how did it go?” Eddie asked, placing a toasty mug of hot cocoa in front of a sulking Wally. “Not that great, I presume..?” He smiled sympathetically.

“They said to ‘be careful’ because ‘someone might get the wrong idea’...” he gave a gloomy smile. “But they also said they ‘didn’t dislike’ it?” He offered.

“So they thought the right idea, but brushed it off as being wrong,” Frank snickered, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the situation while he sipped on a mug of his own.

Eddie sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck with a chuckle. This was harder than the couple originally anticipated…

You two would be the death of this neighbourhood if you didn’t perceive your feelings for each other soon.

yyyello!! I hope you enjoyed reading this!

here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me! likes and reblogs are very much so appreciated B) (again, gimme dopamine boost, RAHHHHH) until next time <3

Posted Tuesday, April 25, 2023 at 11:29 AM

#welcome home #wally x reader #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home x reader #if you’re reading this ily and drink some water bruh #listen to two best friends by bb bean it’s good ragghhhh #also to those two people who replied to snorrrk mimimi bro y’all had me cackling I don’t think you’ll know who you are but yuhhh

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ponderingmoonlight · 6 months

Text

Gojo recklessly flirting with Choso's little sister at Shibuya

Pairing: Gojo x Choso's sister! reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: After being set in Shibuya to distract and exhaust none other than Satoru Gojo, Choso's little sister soon learns that the rumors about his charm are true.

Warnings: This has no major plot, basically just a fic to tease y'all, Gojo being a smooth operator, furious Choso lol

Tags: @celestair

„You‘re late“

Your sweet voice echoes through the hallway, figure unseen by Satoru Gojo in your hiding spot on the ceiling. Urgh, you’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours, the voice of your big brother lingering through your mind.

“Don’t cause trouble, (y/n). I’m serious, we have a mission to fulfill.”

“Yeah, whatever. Working with that idiots won’t bring back our brothers tho.”

“Careful.”

He stepped closer to you, eyes glistering so deadly that you had to swallow.

“Don’t forget why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you forced me to”, you remembered him.

“If Satoru Gojo is half as strong as that guy told us, he’ll kill me. I’m nothing but a bait, you know that right?”

“I won’t let any harm come over you, (y/n). I promise. Also, you have immense powers, just use them. I’ll meet up with you again later.”

One last hug. One last hug before he sent you away.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, I was expecting a larger reception committee to be honest”, he comments dryly.

Your eyes roam over his body in the dark. Rumors were true as it seems, Satoru Gojo is indeed a handsome man for being human. Tall and quite muscular, an undercut to die for and that blindfold that holds the mystery of his powerful orbs. You crane your neck to catch a better glimpse of him. Interesting appearance.

“Be assured that I am more than enough for you.”

With a swift motion, you lower yourself onto the ground, feet landing elegantly right in front of him.

Your breath hitches when your gaze meets his. How is this man so good-looking even though a blindfold covers half of his face? He smells absolutely intoxicating, the way his cocky smile decorates his face makes your heart beat a little faster.

Stop. You shake your head, trying to get these thoughts out of your head. None of this matters. You are here to distract him, to drain him, to lead him to the others. Satoru Gojo is nothing more than a mission you have to fulfill.

“Oh, and you are?”, he questions, putting an arm casually on his hip.

“The villain”, you clarify with a satisfied grin.

“Too bad. You look way too good for being a villain.”

He really wants to play with you, cute. You’ve been walking on this earth long enough to know how men work, especially those like him. Always so sure of themselves, convinced that they can get any woman. Way too easy to manipulate, though.

“Yeah? Let me show you what I’ve got in store, then.”

Blood manipulation makes it easy for you to attack him from a distance over and over again. You aren’t a fool, though. The way your attacks simply bounce off him shows you more than any words could specify how fucking strong the man in front of you is. When using his technique, there’s absolutely no chance for you to win this fight. But still, you promised. You promised Choso to distract and tire Gojo out. The sooner he’s gone, the sooner you can take revenge for the death of your brothers.

“Blood manipulation, huh? Interesting, so you’re a descendant of the Kamo family.”

The amusement that radiates from his voice irritates you. It’s like he isn’t bothered by your powerful technique at all, making fun of you instead of fighting back.

“You know I could just kill you on the spot, right? Why are you here on your own?”

“Maybe to fight you, maybe to seduce you. Who knows?”, you remark, now trying to land a hit on him in close combat.

He grabs your hand faster than you are able to react, making your eyes widen. Fuck, this isn’t good. His radiant touch alone would be enough to kill you on the spot.

“I have to admit, you are a decent jujutsu sorcerer, maybe a semi grade 1. Could make you a grade 1 if you ask nicely.”

Gojo hates to admit it, but it’s way too easy to get lost in your mesmerizing orbs. Are you a curse? No, your skin feels too real and soft for that against his palm. You are human. Maybe reincarnated, but you are human. A striking human, to be exact.

Even though he is very aware of the fact that you are here to distract him from something bigger, he just can’t help but play your little game.

“You know I could make you kneel just by touching you, right?”, you purr, head tilted to the side.

“Oh believe me honey, I could do the same without using any technique.”

For the split of a second you can feel your cheeks heat up, heart pounding hard against your ribcage. What the hell is this strange feeling? You are reincarnated, you aren’t supposed to feel anything. But why…Why does the way he hold your arm so close against his body and the way he smiles down at you send shivers down your spine? You’ve been alive for so damn long, meeting countless men on the way. What makes him so different?

“I know you’re here to distract me. I gotta say that’s pretty rude considering I’m the strongest. Do they want to get rid of you?”

“Maybe I’m a good match and they know that”, you reply with a sweet grin.

“You’re fighting on the wrong side. When this is over, I’ll show you that you’re capable of so much more. With the right motivation, of course”, he hushes.

“Is this an offer?”, you question.

He can tell by the look in your eyes that your mind is racing. To be honest, he isn’t asking exclusively because of your striking powers.

“Absolutely.”

Softly, his touch traces along your arm, up your shoulder, over your back. Gojo’s other hand joins, brushing over your waist. You see stars, it’s like you’ve forgot how to function. Even though it was part of the job many times to wrap a man around your finger, it never really bothered you when they touched you. If you felt something, it was nothing but disgust and anger. But that right now, that isn’t anger or disgust. This is a completely different feeling, foreign in the way it makes your knees weak. No, not even the emotions you hold towards Choso can compare to that.

Is this what attraction feels like?

“You’re dangerous, Satoru Gojo.”

Your voice is as cold and calculating as ever while you feel like dying and flying internally.

“What’s your name?”

“(y/n), can you hear me?”

Fuck. The voice of your brother inside your ear makes you tear away from him in an instant.

“Yeah. What is it”, you mumble.

“So your name is (y/n), huh? What a beautiful name. Fits you perfectly”, Gojo coos behind you.

“Did that guy just flirt with you, (y/n)? Bring him here. Right now”, Choso hisses.

“Sure. Already on the way.”

“You heard him. Get your ass moving”, you instruct the man in front of you while rolling your eyes in annoyance and moving towards the main hall.

“What a bummer, I thought we had more time alone."

“Don’t say that out loud when my brother is here. He’ll kill you right on the spot and I want to have this honor”, you warn him.

The way you walk in front of him with your delicate hips swinging from side to side makes him smile into himself. You’re a feisty woman, not that easy to get, unapproachable at first glance. But oh how you caught his attention. Not only with your immense powers, but also your sharp tongue and striking looks.

“You’re too good looking to be one of the bad guys”, he comments before he can stop yourself.

“And you’re too good looking to fight for the wrong side”, you reply dryly.

“And how do you know I’m on the wrong side and you’re on the right?”

“Because your students killed my brothers without flinching.”

“And the people you are working with killed thousands of innocent humans with countless brothers and sisters still grieving them.”

You turn around slowly, just about to reach the meeting spot you agreed on with Choso.

“I would recommend to not say something like that to my brother”, you hiss.

“Choso, I’m here!”, you announce loudly.

Another figure appears out of the shadow.

“I hope you didn’t hurt her, Satoru Gojo. Otherwise I will have to kill you right on the spot.”

“I guess sneaking up to other people is like a family thing”, he notes.

“Don’t worry, she was really nice company. Made me almost forget that this is a trap.”

“Gojo”, you warn him.

“Watch your mouth”, Choso hisses through gritted teeth.

“Tell me you didn’t flirt with him”, he continues whispering in your ear.

“Oh, I absolutely did”, you reply without thinking twice.

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moni-logues · 7 months

Text

Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

* * *

You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts smut #mmm repost

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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

Text

— WILD FLOWER

SUMMARY : dean gets hit by a spell when fighting a witch and assumes it was harmless or ineffective. he was wrong, but at least he wasn’t dead. he’s a woman now.

PAIRING : fem!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, fingering, oral sex, fem!dean (idk, that’s not a warning), misgendering?

WORD COUNT : 5.5k

A/N : title from RM’s song. this was new but very interesting, and I don’t regret it. I imagined dean as a combination of margot robbie and elizabeth olsen?? yeah, idk lol, yall can picture whoever you want. (I hate my 18 year old writing, but here it is) XXX

Dean grunted as he let himself fall into the backseat of the Impala. Sam and Y/N looked at each other and Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she debated walking into the backseat with Dean or riding shotgun.

“Dean, keys,” Sam reached his hand inside the car and Dean whined quietly, but started to search his jeans for the keys. Y/N watched Dean struggle with finding the keys, a loving smile growing on her face, and he held them out for Sam to take at last. “Sit with him, make sure he doesn’t die or something,” Sam joked to Y/N.

“Fuck you, man,” Dean grunted, moving slightly as Y/N slipped in the backseat with him snickering at him. Dean snuggled into Y/N, mumbling softly against her thigh as she played with his hair.

“You feeling okay, D?”

He hummed softly and nodded. “‘M just sleepy.”

She wanted to scold him for jumping in front of her when the witch cast her spell. He knew that she couldn’t be hurt, she had no idea why he would do that. Maybe it was just a habit, but it’s been a long time since he’d treated her like that, as if she were fragile and could easily die.

She was worried, but he eventually fell asleep with his face pressed into her stomach, curled up on his side. He looked so adorable when he slept, a little smile tugged at her lips and she took the blanket they kept in the backseat and placed it over his body.

“Think he’s gonna be okay?” Sam asked quietly as he drove, glancing at Y/N through the rearview mirror. He also looked concerned, his eyes wide and puppy-like, his teeth chewing at the inside of his cheek.

“S’long as I’m alive, he’ll always be okay,” she promised, caressing Dean’s cheek with her thumb. Sam let out a shaky breath, relaxing in his seat while his hands flexed on the steering wheel.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Sam murmured, focusing on the road. Y/N looked away from Dean and gazed at Sam with a little smile, her eyes soft. “I’m glad you’re always here and have our backs. I know it was your choice to come with us all those years ago, but.. you’ve stayed with Dean and me—even after everything. I know anyone else woulda run for the hills, but you actually love my brother in ways I’ve never seen anyone be loved. He deserves you and you deserve him, you two make each other so happy…”

She blinked at Sam, confused by his sudden speech, she figured he must have been anxious at Dean’s current state. Still, his words had impact. It was no secret she was head over heels for Dean and it was no secret he was just as in love with her. It made her stomach clench delightfully, her face heating up as she imagined how easily everyone else can see the love they have for each other.

She looked down at Dean, smiling wider at his peaceful face before quietly saying, “you don’t need to thank me, Sam.”

“No, I know… I just… I’m glad you’re in our lives,” he told her bashfully, smiling at her through the rearview mirror. She looked up and smiled back at him, letting out a small laugh that made him relax immediately.

“I’m glad you’re both in my life too,” she said quietly. A peaceful silence descended within the Impala, the occasional little rock hitting the metal frame while Sam drove as smoothly as he could back to the motel they were staying at.

Thankfully, the sun wouldn’t start rising for a few hours which meant they could catch a little sleep on their last night at the motel before heading off to the Bunker. More importantly, Dean would get some extra sleep—and Y/N was thrilled that he would be able to sleep fully until morning.

Dean whined and nuzzled into Y/N’ stomach when she tried moving him out of the Impala so he could sleep in a bed. He slapped her hand away and mumbled some nonsense into her tummy until Sam returned to check on them and roughly slapped his brother’s shoulder.

“Ow,” Dean flinched, slowly getting up to rub his shoulder with a pout while Y/N and Sam laughed at how childish he sounded. “You’re both mean…” he muttered, pecking Y/N’s lips just because he could before sleepily stumbling out of the Impala, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Y/N took the opportunity to gently smack his ass as his jacket and shirt rode up his body.

He smirked at her, pulling her into his arms to kiss her which made Sam groan in disgust, mostly playful. She giggled into the kiss, clutching Dean’s shirt as he held her face in his warm palms.

“Alright then,” Sam cleared his throat. When Dean held Y/N in place, his tongue lazily slipping past her lips as he tilted his head for a better angle, Sam scratched the back of his neck and rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna shower,” he said quickly, and made his escape. Dean chuckled, finally pulling away from his girlfriend.

“Will you make me sleep on the couch if I don’t wanna shower?” He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, it made her smile adoringly at him. Dean could surprisingly pull that look off quite well and she had to resist rolling her eyes—mostly at herself for melting as soon as he looked at her that way.

“Just sleep in clean clothes and brush your teeth,” she murmured, kissing him softly. He hummed quietly, nodding his head, accepting her proposition.

“What if I sleep naked?” He wondered with a smirk, staring down at her. He bit his lip, raising his brows as he held her close to him. She laughed and rested her head on his chest, her ear pressed over his heart, listening to the cadence of his relaxing heartbeat.

“I would love that, but unfortunately, we share a room with your brother…” She moved away from him to close the door. He groaned in annoyance, holding her pinky with his. “I know,” she said dramatically, tugging him to the motel room, fully intertwining their fingers, “if only you could sleep naked next to me at all hours, every night.”

He chuckled softly at the thought, spinning her around to face him with his arms around her waist. She gasped dramatically as he opened the door, but before he could kiss her, she put her finger to his lips, “better yet, what if you were naked at all hours, every day too?” He stumbled in with a laugh, kicking the door closed, and pressing her against the wall.

“Is that what you picture if we have our own home?” He murmured, kissing her passionately and sloppily dragging his lips down her neck. “Me, walking around naked so I can fuck you whenever I want?” He grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around him.

“Dean…” she moaned, “we can’t…”

He rutted against her slowly, her hands twisting in his shirts, as his warm breath fanned over her neck. He was already hard, it was driving her crazy to feel him against her clothed core, wetness pooling between her legs.

“Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, “I know.” He let her down gently and kissed her forehead. “Sorry,” he whispered, kissing her forehead again before he pulled away and started to strip.

“Don’t apologise for that,” she chuckled, stripping off her dirty clothes and putting on a clean pair of panties as he stood there, naked.

“I was apologising to your panties, mostly, and your pussy,” he bit his lip and nodded at her playfully, “because I bet they’re soaked, just ruined, and that you were expecting my dick inside you.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she chuckled, stealing a shirt from his duffel bag and grabbing some new boxers for him.

“I…” she laughed, shoving his boxers against his chest, “stop distracting me.” She walked past him as she put his shirt on and laughed when he pulled her into him again. His warm hands moved up her sides, lifting the shirt she wore as he pressed himself against her, his cock squeezed between their bodies. “I’m serious,” she chuckled, looking over at the bathroom door where the water was still running as Sam showered.

He sighed and let her go, dramatically putting his boxers on and standing there with his hands on his hips. “Better?” He asked, rolling his eyes playfully when she peeked at him from over her shoulder and then smiled at him.

“Not really, but I asked you to, so, I guess.” She smiled at him and pulled him closer to her. He moved with her smoothly, holding her close and plopping down on the bed with her in his lap. “Sammy's gonna come out soon,” she warned as he kissed her again and kneaded her ass, his hands warm and rough.

“I know,” he whined, falling back on the bed, closing his eyes, his thumbs rubbing circles on her hip bones. “Don’t get mad, I don’t wanna brush my teeth, I’m still a little tired from the spell.” Her eyes softened and she leaned over him, kissing his hairline, dropping another kiss on his forehead.

“I’m never going to get mad at you, you know that, Dean.” She kissed his nose and then his lips before climbing off him and laying down with her head in the pillow. He turned to look at her tiredly, but managed to smile at her happily.

“I know, I just like being dramatic.” Instead of claiming his spot closest to the door, he settled between her legs, nudging them apart with his knees.

“I love you so much, Dean,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him down to rest his head on her chest. He quickly relaxed, a soft sigh warming up her chest as he nuzzled between her breasts as comfortably as he could.

“I love you, Y/N, so much,” he mumbled shyly against her chest. His face heated up, but he hoped it made her smile. Her fingers began combing through his hair, and matched with her steady heartbeat and her warmth, they lulled him until he fell back into unconsciousness again.

When he woke up, it was already sunny outside. He knew Sam must have gone out for a run, and after that, to pick up some coffee and tea for Y/N. He sneaked his hand under his girlfriend’s shirt with his eyes closed. Dean felt her stir when his fingers gently brushed against her nipple, a shudder rippling through her that made him smirk.

He lowered his hand and tugged at her panties, hoping to rouse her. It made her moan softly in protest. When he went to kiss her, a curtain of honey-coloured locks scared the shit out of him and he nearly screamed at the top of his lungs, but settled for a quick, “oh, shit!”

He stumbled off of Y/N and his wiggling on the bed woke her.

“Dean?” She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the naked woman on the bed who was looking down at herself in shock. It sobered Y/N and she scrambled far away from the unfamiliar woman. “Dean?! Is this some kind of joke?” Y/N got out of bed, her eyes trailing up and down the woman’s body.

“Y/N, it’s me! It’s Dean!” In his attempts to get up, his boxers fell from his slimmer, curvier body, and Y/N froze, staring at him in the eyes. Green eyes. Dean pulled the boxers up and held them at his waist.

“What?” She asked quietly.

“It’s me. It’s Dean. I’m Dean,” he said more calmly, making his way to her on the bed, walking on his knees. “Im kinda freaking out, babe,” he admitted quietly. Y/N’s eyes flickered down to Dean’s breasts again and then Y/N started to laugh. “What? What’s so funny? Sweetheart, we need to find out what happened! What the fuck is going on?” He didn’t care that she was laughing, he still moved in for a hug which she easily gave to him, her arms wrapping around his, her, neck.

“I’m sorry, D,” she murmured, burying her face in his neck and smelling the same scent that always came from Dean. “I think it was the witch, honestly,” she mumbled, pulling away slightly to look him in the eyes, his green eyes and cute freckles that she always loved.

“But she’s dead…” Dean whispered, sitting down, his long hair covering her chest. “S-shouldn’t I…? Then why is the spell still working?” He wondered exasperatedly, running his hand down his face. “I need some clothes. And-and we need to get to the Bunker, read up on this shit…” he started to ramble as he got off the bed, letting his boxers fall.

“We can call Rowena,” Y/N suggested, but Dean was too busy rifling through his duffle bag. “D, slow down, I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes.” She got off the bed and stopped Dean, who was still pretty tall. He instinctively leaned down to kiss her, his fingers tangling in her soft hair. She kissed him back, to his surprise, as if he were the same, as if it didn’t matter to her that he was a woman now. At least for however long he had to be one before they turned him back.

“I wanna wear that dress that drives me crazy when you wear it,” he murmured playfully against her lips. She laughed at Dean, pulling away completely to dig through her duffle bag for a pair of her underwear and a bra. “Babe, your boobs are bigger than mine,” he pouted, experimentally holding his breasts in his hand and rolling his nipples between his fingers. He gasped softly and Y/N’s face heated up as she watched him touch himself. “Shit, am I pissing myself?” He stopped touching himself to look between his legs and then relaxed when he realised what was happening. “Oh,” he said with wonder.

“Stop that,” Y/N chuckled, placing the bra back into her bag while Dean pulled Y/N’s underwear on. She then took out the dress Dean was talking about, wondering if he was serious or not. “Are you sure?” She asked, holding it up for him to inspect it—even though he’d seen it millions of times. He rubbed his thighs together and then looked up at her, his face flushed.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, getting up and taking it from her, letting him help putting it on. She bit her lip, realising that he was turned on right now. “Man, why am I so wet?” He whined as Y/N fixed the straps of the thin and soft dress.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, fixing the dress on Dean’s body and grabbing the white, silky strap of cloth that went around the waist to make a neat bow at his waist. “Why do you think you’re wet?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Uh,” Dean looked down at himself, bit his lip as he blushed and then looked at her. “Probably because you still turn me on and I’m wearing your panties,” he told her, licking his lips, he stepped forward, watching her stand up straight as he came closer. “I mean, I know wearing panties always feels good to me, but it’s always different when I know they’re yours,” he confessed, looking down as he sneaked his hand under her shirt and into her panties. Both their breaths started to pick up and he moaned softly, finding her as soaked as he felt.

Just then, the doorknob started to rattle and Dean grunted in annoyance. He moved his hand out from between her legs and licked his fingers clean of her slick before kissing her forehead and heading to the bathroom. Sam froze as he watched a woman—Dean—wad to the bathroom while Y/N stood there, flushed, before facing Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, closing the door behind him to place the cup holder on the table.

“Uh, the witch made Dean a woman,” Y/N said bluntly, putting on some jeans to look a little more decent.

“The.. What?” Sam blinked at Y/N, then seemed to have let the information sink as he sat down, abandoning the coffee cup he was drinking from when he came in. “Are you sure?” He asked, even though he knew Y/N knew what she was doing. She nodded and took the cup that had the tea string hanging out of the cup. “I’ll call Rowena as we make our way to the Bunker, it’s just a few hours away…” Sam stretched a little and froze when Dean came out of the bathroom, using a towel to clean his face.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, hating the way Sam looked at him in shock. Dean took the last coffee on the cup holder and started to drink from it. “I know, I’m so hot like this, too,” he smirked up at his baby brother. Sam rolled his eyes, needing nothing more to know that it was, in fact, Dean as a woman.

Y/N chuckled and made her way to the bathroom to get ready, letting Sam and Dean talk about whatever they needed to before stepping out. She got her stuff ready, found Sam perplexed, prepared, and Dean amused and curious, before they all headed out to the car to get to the Bunker.

Dean pouted as Rowena started to scan his body using a spell, Y/N stifled a laugh, which made Dean smile. As soon as Sam got in the Impala, he started to call Rowena and told her to be there to help Dean out. She was obviously there, faster than either of them cared to mention.

Rowena had also checked Dean out as soon as she saw him, which Dean liked, despite his sassy remark to her objectifying stare. He plopped down on the bed of the infirmary and let Rowena do her thing, Y/N was sitting nearby as Sam anxiously chewed on his fingernails.

“Honestly, as long as I’m not gonna die…” he trailed off, “but please tell me you can turn me back.” Rowena sighed and smiled at Dean, her eyes mischievous and naughty as she patted Dean’s head like a dog.

“You’re not going to die,” she reassured him and Dean slapped her hand away, sitting up on the bed. “And the spell will run its course in a few days, like a fever,” she explained. Dean listened as he played with the hem of the dress he wore. “Tell me, what’s it like for you being a woman? Have you two already explored your new body?” She asked mischievously. Sam cleared his throat, expressing his discomfort. Rowena rolled her eyes at him, but smirked at Dean’s blush as he crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I’m asking because I can change you back now… Unless..” she trailed off, looking between Y/N and Dean with a knowing look, “unless you two wanna experiment…” She added casually, shrugging and looking at her nails.

“Okay! I’m leaving now,” Sam said, not wanting to hear it or to embarrass Y/N and Dean for their choice. Sam decided he was going to leave the Bunker for a while and l text Dean that he’d be back in a week. Sam nodded to himself, getting some new clothes and his duffle bag, he wanted to give them some privacy. Maybe he could read all those books he wanted to read and stay in a motel for a while. Or he could call Eileen, yeah, he was gonna do that, spend some time with her and go on a date, too.

“I’m not judging, I’m actually encouraging it,” Rowena said smugly, packing her things. Rowena didn’t need an answer, she had Dean figured out. He was confident and proud about his sex life; he was an experimenter, willing to try anything. Dean rolled his eyes at Rowena and got out of bed to stand next to Y/N.

“Whatever, we’ll walk you out,” Dean grumbled, taking Y/N’s hand to help her off the chair as Rowena gave both of them a knowing look. Her dark eyes shone with amusement and flirtatiousness, which made Dean roll his eyes again as he took her other bag and walked out with Y/N.

“I always knew you two were an interesting pair,” she laughed, “I mean, how do you get Y/N to try all these things? She seems too tame for things like these…” Dean smirked to himself, knowing Rowena couldn’t see his face; if only she knew how many times a lot of the freaky stuff they did were Y/N’s idea. He looked down at his girlfriend, his eyes full of affection and desire. She was so cute when she was flustered.

Rowena gasped dramatically, her heels clicking as she hurried to stand next to them. “Don’t tell me, this child is the one who comes up with everything… I knew you were the most sheltered, Dean.” Rowena laughed, looking between both of them, and needing nothing, but their silence to confirm her statement. “Well, I’m just shocked… but very proud.” She squeezed Y/N’s shoulder, a genuine expression of pride and mischief shining in her grey-blue eyes.

Y/N shook her head at the witch, allowing Dean to open the Bunker door for Rowena to make her exit. “Well, thanks for coming out to help, Rowena,” Y/N told her. Dean handed Rowena her bag and Rowena grinned at them.

“You’re welcome,” she kissed Y/N’s cheek formally and patted Dean’s shoulder, “have a fantastic week, lovebirds.” Rowena continued to tease as she walked out, leaving Dean and Y/N alone in the Bunker, both amused as they shut the door.

“I’m gonna go look for Sam,” Dean said, looking down at his body, “and then I’m gonna shower.” He leaned over to kiss Y/N’s cheek, then kissed her lips, smiling adorably at her.

“Just… go look for your brother,” Y/N chuckled shyly, walking past Dean just as his phone lit up on the war table. “Nevermind!” She shouted, taking Dean’s phone when she saw Sam’s name light up the screen above a message he sent. Dean raised a brow and walked over to her, looking over her shoulder to read whatever notification he got.

SAMMY : I’m heading out with Eileen. I’m spending the whole week with her. You two have fun… No details, please.

Dean chuckled too, taking the phone when Y/N handed it to him. He typed out his response with a childish snicker and a grin. Y/N’s smile grew watching Dean look practically the same even as a woman.

Dean : Oh, you have plenty of time to finally sleep with her.. Unlike you, I’d like to hear the details… or Eileen will spill to Y/N and I’ll know anyway. Heh.

Dean proudly sent the message, his attention purely on his phone. He saw Sam had immediately read it and the text bubble appeared, so he stepped forward, leaning his hips against the table, nearly forgetting he was a woman. He quickly recovered and laughed at Sam’s response.

SAMMY : She wouldn’t… Stop that!

Goodbye, Dean

Dean could already hear the annoyance from Sam through the text and he grinned to himself, looking to where Y/N was. A soft smile graced her pretty lips and Dean found himself smiling back immediately, and reaching out for her hand.

“Let’s shower together,” he said with a smile, his thumb brushing against her knuckles when she took his hand. She nodded at him, looking at Dean the same way she always had. It flustered him.

While he walked with her to the bathroom, he couldn’t help squeeze her hand nervously—now that he was a woman. It was comforting that nothing had changed for her, that it didn’t matter what he looked like. If anything could display how she felt about him, this was the true testament of her love for him.

As much as he wanted to just get the shower over with, he couldn’t. He had no idea how to stop himself from being so horny, it was like starting all over again from puberty. He couldn’t focus on anything, but the desire for Y/N to touch him. He was so wet, everytime his thighs were too close, he could feel his panties sticking to his pussy, the cool feeling of wetness surprising him.

He didn’t even realise he was already in the bathroom, until he felt Y/N tugging at the ends of the little bow she made around his waist to keep the dress snug against his curves. He focused on her, but the way it just seemed so natural to her that he was a woman now, it was confusing. Still, it was also nice, hoping that her love for him was just that pure and unconditional.

“I love you,” he mumbled. He felt shy saying that, but she looked up at him with her eyebrows raised slightly, pleasant surprise written all over her face, one side of her lips turning up just a little. She leaned forward and pecked his lips, repeating the same sentiment that made him feel warm, a flush that was different from the lust he’d been feeling all day.

Dean started to take his dress off slowly, but Y/N stripped faster than he did, focused on the task of showering. She turned the shower on and waited patiently for Dean to get used to his lady parts and the difference in size of all his body. His arms were thinner and so were his legs, he was soft, but toned, and just slightly firm on his ass, he was squishy in all the places he liked Y/N to be. When he’d embarrassedly lowered his panties, Y/N watched, amused by the patch of wetness that drenched the crotch of the cotton.

“Jesus, Dean,” she chuckled, stepping forward and curiously tugging Dean’s panties to get a clearer look at all the wetness. Dean blushed, now understanding why Y/N became so coy when he did or said things like that. He secretly liked it though, the way she pressed her fingers into the damp cotton and hummed as if it were nice against her fingertips. “You're so dirty,” she whispered, laughing softly.

“I’m not used to this,” was all he managed to say. Y/N released his panties, letting them pool around his ankles. Dean swallowed, waiting in anticipation for Y/N to do something, anything really, just as long as he could get off. She’d mimicked what Dean did earlier to himself, her hands experimentally cupping Dean’s breast. Dean bit his lip, feeling his nipples tighten and tingle with the prospect of being touched.

Y/N was slow and curious in the way she handled him. Her thumbs gently circled around the nipple, observing them start to pucker up. The soft pads of her thumbs brushed against the little buds of his nipples and he found himself arching his chest the same way she did when he did that to her.

It had the same effect on her as it had on him, and one of her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close so her warm mouth was latched onto his nipple. He moaned, feeling her fingers on his other breast, pinching and rolling his nipples, while she tongued the other expertly.

He felt his knees weaken and he steadied himself on the wall, a wave of wetness dampening his legs more. She released his waist, sucking his nipple into her mouth, her teeth pleasantly scraping the sensitive skin of his nipples. Her hand slid down his side, smoothly tracing the curve of his waist, down to his hips.

Her thumb brushed against his hipbone and it felt so damn good, Dean moaned again, squirming and hoping Y/N would show him mercy and put her fingers where she knew he wanted her to. Instead, she playfully tugged at his nipple and let it go with a pop, her warm breath billowing over the wetness and making shivers erupt on his skin.

Dean felt his eyes roll back, felt so horny when she wrapped her arm around his waist again and repeated every little stroke of her tongue on his other nipple. This time, her free hand moved between his legs. Dean found himself spreading his legs when her palms sailed smoothly up the inside of his thigh, curving up to cup his pussy, her palm grinding against his swollen clit and her fingers pressing into his drenched entrance.

He gasped, his fingers tangling in her hair, trying to pull her up so she would kiss him instead. She pulled away from his chest and let Dean kiss her, a surprised sound muffling against Dean’s lips. She didn’t stop palming his swollen clit, and Dean began to undulate his hips against her hand and she smirked. Even now, she loved making him desperate.

“I need to cum,” he gasped against her mouth. Y/N nodded, circled Dean’s weeping entrance with two fingers and moved them up to his clit. She kissed Dean’s neck, licked his sweet skin and marked him as hers where she thought would look pretty against his skin. Dean’s heavy breaths and breathy moans caused a pool of arousal between her legs again.

Y/N licked her lips, staring at Dean, and truly took him in. She took in the gorgeous curves of his body, his tiny waist and wide hips, the perfect roundness of his perky breasts, his nipples hard and shimmering with her saliva. He looked beautiful, ravenous, in the same way he’d make her feel when he had the body of a man.

His hair was long and straight, a lighter brown colour. He was breathtaking, with strands curtaining above his chest and falling in front of his face, long tendrils of honey that nearly covered his green eyes. He looked at her breathlessly, wondering why she was so slowly, agonisingly massaging his clit.

He hadn’t expected to see the same tenderness in her eyes that she’d usually gaze at him with, her eyes sparkling with wonder and love. Dean whined anyway, grasping her wrist to speed up and control the movements just when she began to trace the same freckles she’d seen on Dean’s other body with her eyes.

She didn’t say anything, just snatched Dean’s wrist with her clean hand to keep him away as she easily slipped two fingers inside him. Dean gasped, not expecting the speed at which Y/N fingered him. Her fingertips easily found his g-spot, curled so deliciously against the sensitive ridges of his wall. His mouth fell open and he moaned her name loudly, feeling a coil begin to tighten in his tummy.

He tugged at his nipples with both hands, squeezing his breasts and fucked himself against her quick fingers. Y/N stared up at him, captivated by every one of his hedonistic manoeuvres. Desire flourished between her legs and in her stomach at the sound of Dean’s wet cunt around her fingers.

Y/N got down on her knees, her mouth sending warm breaths over his pelvis. Dean’s eyes snapped open to gaze down at Y/N with an intense hunger, wiggling his hips and abandoning one of his breasts to spread his folds with two fingers, encouraging her to put her mouth on his clit.

She didn’t hesitate to flick his clit teasingly and he jolted, his head bumping against the wall. He moaned again, the feeling of her tongue’s perfect strokes drew him closer to his orgasm. The smoothness of movement aided by her saliva and Dean just didn’t care about holding back when he came, completely relaxing his muscles and letting it tear through him intensely.

Dean caught his breath against the wall, her fingers slowing down and stopping before her tongue did. Y/N sat back on her legs and licked her fingers clean while Dean watched her. Leaning forward for more, she lifted Dean’s thigh and pushed his legs open to lap up his clear cum and he moaned appreciatively.

“Come on, there’s still a lot more I have to show you.” She grinned at him mischievously, allowing Dean to relax and catch his breath. She stepped into the shower and stared at him for a moment.

“God,” he whispered and rolled his eyes, “it sucks that this is just temporary.” He entered the shower with her.

“That’s enough time,” she reassured him with a grin. Dean gasped when Y/N manhandled him under the showerhead and used her fingers to clean him up, purposely brushing against his sensitive clit.

“I am so in love with you,” Dean breathed, pressing a loving kiss to her cheek.

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