#hiking lamp | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nanaslutt · 2 months

Text

It's not a wet dream

cont: fem reader, somnophillia, pre-established consent, oral(m!r), dirty talk, Geto has sensitive balls, teasing, deep throating, overstimulation, cum eating

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You winced when Suguru's door made a loud creek as you pulled it open, slipping inside his room slowly. You turned the doorknob all the way down before pushing it back, closing the door. You were enveloped in darkness once more, save for the small orange lamp in the corner of Suguru's room. He must've been too tired or drunk to turn it off last night.

Suguru was out until almost 4 am celebrating Gojo's birthday with Nanami and a few other friends of theirs. Nanami said he would keep an eye on Geto and make sure he got home and an appropriate time, but when you heard the two men drunkenly stumbling their way through yours and Geto's apartment in the middle of the night, you surmised that Nanami had gotten pressured into drinking more than he said he was going to.

You were almost impressed. After all, it took a lot to knock Nanami Kento out. You had to be careful making your way through the living room and into Geto's room, trying not to trip on the rug and fall to the ground, afraid of waking Nanami.

You sighed a breath of relief when you made it to his room without making a sound. You weren't sure about Nanami, but Suguru was a heavy sleeper. He could sleep through the end and rebirth of the world. Which made your little plan perfect.

It was a little earlier than you normally get up on weekends, but a certain dream about your long-haired boyfriend woke you up with a burning fire between your thighs. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous though. You knew Geto had told you he was okay with this kind of thing, his exact words being, "You can do whatever you want to me pretty girl, I'm okay with anything as long as it's you." but even with that, you had made no attempts to try anything.

You shook your head remembering his prior words from weeks ago, your face heating up at the thought. Your eyes immediately found his strong body, sprawled out on the bed. Suguru was only clad in his boxers as he lay on his back, one knee bent and leg hiked up, one arm by his side, and the other underneath his head, cradling it.

His hair was down completely, the dark strands falling gracefully down his shoulders and on the white sheets underneath him. He looked so peaceful, handsome face completely relaxed and tipped to the side, revealing his strong jawline and the perfect strong slope of his pointed nose.

You swallowed hard, you were starting to see the appeal in this. He was completely at your mercy, and he liked it. You released a shaky breath as you dragged your eyes across his chiseled body, completely bare for you to look at. You couldn't tell if Geto had a boner or not, you could see the outline of his impressive cock from where you stood at the end of his bed, but unless you felt it, you wouldn't know. He always was a shower.

You bit your lip before crossing your arms over your body and grabbing along the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off of your body. Your tits laid bare into the air of the room, the bottom half of you only clad in a thin pair of black panties, basic, Suguru's favorite.

You carefully placed your hand on the end of his bed and crawled onto the sheets, going as slow as possible to not wake him so soon. If he woke up once you had his cock in your mouth, fine, but you had to have some fun with him first. His legs were spread just enough to give you the perfect spot to lie down between them. Your tummy and chest rested on his soft comforter which had been shoved down the bed, only covering half of his shins and his feet.

The thought of Geto kicking off his sheets in his sleep because of the heat made you smile. His face probably looked so grumpy and uncomfortable.

You tentatively placed your hands down on his hip bones, rubbing your thumbs in small circles against them. Geto stayed completely still, making you release the breath you didn't even know you were holding. You decided to test your luck further. You extended your arms, rubbing up his naked torso while you rested your head against his thigh, watching your hands move over his porcelain skin.

Your fingers traced the indents of his abs all the way up to the bottom of his paks before you started slowly sliding them back down, this time caressing the side of his body, over his ribs. You noticed his cock jump behind the confines of his boxers as you touched his burning skin, making a mischievous smile grace your features.

You dragged your fingers down and down until you reached his sharp v-line. Adding a little more pressure, you traced the deep indents, resulting in another twitch of his cock. You bit your lip, dropping your eyes down to his crotch which was eye level with you. It was steadily stirring to life as you ran your fingers along the hem of his boxers, teasing him.

Suguru had the sexiest happy trail that started just below his belly button, you couldn't get enough of it. You lightly scratched your nails down the trail of hair, going past the hem of his boxers and over the material, ever so slightly grazing the head of his cock before you dragged them back up, repeating that process a few more times.

Suguru's abs tightened before relaxing, his cock throbbing in tandem. He was starting to feel it. You raised your head off of his thigh and leaned forward, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to the shaft of his dick. He wasn't fully hard, but he was getting there.

With that, you tucked your fingers underneath the band of his boxers and started sliding the material down far enough to where his cock and balls were out. His cock twitched heavily against his thigh when you exposed it to the air, removing him from his confines. Suguru turned his head to the other side of the room, his eyebrows ruffling almost unnoticeable before his relaxed expression was back on his face.

You kept a watchful gaze on his face as you reached out to grab his twitching cock. It was stirring like it had a mind of its own, eager for relief. You wrapped your hand around the midsection of his half-hard cock and slowly stroked your hand down his shaft before going back up. A bead of pre-cum dripped out from the head, smearing on your hand as you stroked him off, easing the slide.

Suguru's abs tightened repeatedly before relaxing each time you jerked your hand up and down slowly. You paused your movements, grabbing him at his midsection before you released your thumb from him and started rubbing tight circles around his frenulum. Geto's breath hitched, his eyebrows furrowing again made you wonder if he was going to wake up, but he stayed knocked out.

"Good boy." You whispered, sliding your hand up to jerk off his sensitive tip, focusing all of your attention there. A soft grunt left your boyfriend's throat, the corner of his lip twitching with it. You couldn't help but cross your legs over one another, bringing some relief to the burning heat between your thighs.

Geto was stirring more now, legs and abs flexing, more soft, barely there sounds leaving his throat. He wasn't going to stay asleep for much longer. Geto was now fully hard, his thick cock straining strongly agaisnt your hand as you rubbed his soft tip, making more pre-cum spill from the tip. Squelching noises rang in your ears, making your heartbeat speed up. The sound was so lewd.

Sliding your hand down to the base of his cock, you grabbed his hip with your free hand and angled his cock slightly down to your mouth. You stuck out your tongue and let your hot breath tease his cock, making it twitch harshly before you gave it a few soft taps against your tongue, the small taste of it alone making your tastebuds erupt with the salty-sweet flavor of his cum.

Wasting no more time, you took him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his cock. Geto's body jerked violently at the feeling of you instantly taking as much of him into your throat as you could. You bobbed your head up and down on him, using the grip you had around the base of his cock to smear your saliva onto the rest of him.

Suguru groaned when his tip hit the back of your throat, the feeling making your eyes water as you fought back a cough. You pulled off of him completely, your hand jerking him off quickly and smoothly with the added wetness as you dropped your head down to his balls. You took one of his balls into your mouth, rolling your tongue around it softly the way he always begs you to when you suck him off.

You should've guessed this would be what woke him up. Geto's bent leg straightened out as he stirred from his sleep, the dark-haired man almost immediately feeling the pounding in his head from his awful hangover. But there was something else along with that sensation, something that overwhelmed it in a positive, pleasureful way.

Geto rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand while the other went down to grab his cock, or at least try. He was met with the feel of hair against his hand, his fingers splaying out along the top of your head. "Oh fuuuuuck, baby?" Geto groaned, his hips thrusting shallowly into the air, fucking his dick into your hand. Geto dropped his head down to look at the scene that was unfolding below him.

There was still sleep flooding his eyes, making his vision slightly blurred but he couldn't mistake the sight of your gorgeous face, sucking on his balls while you jerked him off. "Oh baby, oh fuckk..." Geto groaned, his jaw falling open at the sight before he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

You unlatched your lips from around his sack with a wet popping sound, turning your head right away to face him with a dopey, cock drunk smile. "Good morning Sugu, how are you feeling?" You asked, not giving him a second to answer before you replaced your hand with your mouth. You took his cock into your throat with ease, your hand that was jerking him off splaying out on his pelvis around the base of his cock as you sucked him off with no hands.

"Holy fuck, oh fuck, so tighttt" Suguru groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair at the feeling of your hot mouth around him. You kept your eyes on him as you bobbed your head up and down, humming around him. The vibrations were getting sent straight to his balls, already readying to spill his seed. "Good now baby, s-so good, ohmygod so good." Suguru groaned, trying to answer your question but getting swept away by the pleasure.

"I fucking love you so much, holy shit." The man groaned in his deep, sleepy voice. You had to fight back a smile, not wanting him to feel any teeth as you sucked him off. "Keep going, s-suck my balls again baby, please." He begged. His voice was so much deeper than usual, it was so raspy and needy, it made you grind down into the bed, rubbing your clit against the inside of your thighs pressed so tightly together.

You released his cock from your mouth with a cute "ahhh-" sound before you were leaning down again to suck his balls into your mouth. Geto's eyes rolled back in his head as he released a long groan, his hand pressing you harder against them. He caught you off guard when he wrapped his hand around yours that was jerking him off, speeding up your pace.

His hand was shaky and jerky, and it had no rhythm, Suguru just needed to feel like he was doing something because he was feeling so much. He was so overwhelmed with pleasure, and so early in the morning after drinking so much the night before- you couldn't blame him for being so overstimulated and disoriented.

"Yeah baby, yeah baby, yeah baby, harder, suck 'em harder-" Geto slurred through his teeth, lips pursing around them. His hand stiffened over your own as his body went rigid, almost on the brink of his orgasm. You moaned around him, unable to keep your own pleasured noises down from how good making him feel good felt. Geto's thighs pressed together around your body, the muscles under the skin starting to tremble as his nails scratched against your scalp.

His head thrashed back and forth against the bed, his eyes squeezed tightly together, eyebrows knit with them. His back started arching ever so slightly with his impending orgasm, his groans turning into short gasps as his mouth dropped open and closed like a fish out of water.

"Don't stop pretty don't fucking stop, 'm gunna cum, c-cumming cumming!" Geto whimpered out his words, the last word being your name coming through his lips cracked and ruined before you felt the first hot rope of his cum land on the side of your face.

You moaned around him, sucking harder and squeezing his cock tightly as you worked him through his orgasm. Geto groaned as he released his seed, his hand stilling over yours which kept jerking him off, milking all the cum out of his cock. "T-thank you, baby, ohhhh fuck- thank you-" Geto groaned through his high. His balls clenched and throbbed in your mouth as he released his seed, even more so as you ran your tongue over them, encouraging him.

Geto's, and your own hand was covered in his cum, as the last few spurts of his seed had been weaker, merely dribbling out over your fingers from his tip. Once Geto was throughout done cumming, you detached from around his balls, letting them rest empty and wet against his thighs. Geto was still fighting to catch his breath, his hand on the back of your head falling to the nape of your neck as he no longer had any strength left in his body to hold you tight.

Releasing his cock, his hand falling off of yours, you wiped his cum on the bedsheets next to him. Crawling up his body, you straddled his hips, your panties undoubtedly getting soaked with his leftover cum as his softening cock pressed agaisnt your cunt. Suguru's unfocused eyes found yours, his jaw open and a pretty deep blush spread across his cheeks.

Smiling, you swiped your fingers across the cum on your face, pulling them away to look at his mess. Suguru watched you carefully, knowing exactly what you were planning to do even despite his fucked out state. You brought your fingers to his mouth, to which he eagerly accepted. He took your cum coated fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking off his own seed and swallowing greedily before he released them, letting you pull them back.

"How did that taste Sugu?" You asked teasingly, holding his chiseled cheeks with both of your hands, wiping the long stray hairs off of his face that were stuck there by his sweat. "Fucking delicious." God he was so shameless, it made your cunt throb with need. "How did I end up with such a dirty man?" You asked, fighting back a laugh as you shook his limp head back and forth, a dopey smile on his lips.

"You love how nasty I am, get's 'ur pussy all wet," Suguru said, his words slurred together and ridden with sleep. "Damn right it does," you answered, leaning in to kiss him softly against his lips before you pulled away, sitting up on him.

You placed your hands on his chest, letting your cunt rest firmer against his spent cock, an action that made him groan deep in his throat. "You gonna help me out too? Gonna let me sit on your face for waking you up so nice?" You whispered, teasing the skin of his pecs with your nails.

Suguru licked his lips and tipped his head to the side, his hands finding purchase on your thighs before he gave them a squeeze, his eyes squinting as he smiled. "Of course princess, come up here 'n give me a taste."

4K notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 2 months

Text

daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)

she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)

part one

word count: 7.9k

content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours.

But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.

Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor.

Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office.

On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.

It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.

It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.

And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.

The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name.

“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."

She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery.

She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.

“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.

“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”

She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in.

“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”

“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”

His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.

“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”

They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence.

But she can’t help herself.

“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”

Harry’s nostrils flare.

“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”

He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with.

But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?

“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”

He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way.

“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out.

A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to.

“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips.

But instead, he stops.

A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes.

“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”

I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains.

“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”

He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.

“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”

. . .

Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated.

In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing.

She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead.

When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile.

A smile.

“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body.

“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag.

That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.

As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed.

And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.

“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”

Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals.

“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.

When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”

As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.

“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”

Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox.

“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”

Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.

. . .

“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft.

Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down.

“We are,” he says softly.

“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed.

“What do you mean?”

Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater.

“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”

Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.

“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”

She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it.

And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.

“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”

She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”

“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.

The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?”

His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time.

“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”

She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers.

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx.

Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.

And there’s still three months left of the semester.

Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.

But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.

It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:

can’t stop thinking about your lips

oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??

It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.

Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.

Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess.

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him.

“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”

She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.”

“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”

They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be?

Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles.

“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male.

He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”

“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.”

He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather.

It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket.

“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”

“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”

“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”

Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods.

“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”

“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.”

With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared?

Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?”

“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”

His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation.

“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“You live alone?”

She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.

“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”

“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”

Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”

Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime.

“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”

“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”

His throat bobs. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”

He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”

He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment.

“Well now I have to know.”

“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”

“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”

Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”

“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”

“Strawberry, actually.”

He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”

Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”

“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”

She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”

“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road.

“I’m right over there.”

Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him.

“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly.

“Of course.”

They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car.

“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”

He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?

But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.

“Can I come inside, then?”

. . .

Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be.

She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.

“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming.

“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”

Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”

“Tea is good, sweetheart.”

The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.

“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.

He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”

“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”

“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”

She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.

“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.”

Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile.

“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”

He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”

She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?”

He sends her a knowing look and she grins.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”

He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”

“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”

“I know, but—”

“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”

He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”

“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust.

This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games.

“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”

He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze.

“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”

She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she’s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up.

But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy.

When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.

And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.

“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane.

“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her.

He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest.

“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.”

He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips.

“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.

“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising.

“Harry— oh my god—”

“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”

If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above.

“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly.

“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”

That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression.

“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips.

“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”

Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?”

“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck.

She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?”

“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.”

“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”

“That’s perfectly okay.”

Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length.

“You look big.” She admits.

He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip.

“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?”

This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.”

“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”

“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.”

“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.”

She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it.

“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.”

“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”

She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze.

“Do you really think it’ll fit?”

“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“

“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts.

Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter.

“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“

“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”

“Too much?”

She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”

“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down.

With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her.

“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”

She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic.

She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach.

He thinks he may pass out.

Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock.

“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her.

“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully.

He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them.

“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.”

That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent.

When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her.

“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.

Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”

“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”

“Please.”

His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair.

They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat.

And then: “So you envisioned this?”

She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”

Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.

1K notes · View notes

jungkookstatts · 3 months

Text

Cherry Flavored

[Summary]: Your biker boyfriend takes you on a joyride.

[Theme]: Established realtionship!AU, Biker!JK

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, oral (f receiving), spitting, dom!JK, riding, creampie, spanking

[Word Count]: 5,498

[A/N]: The biker verse has come to me in the new year. So has covid. But biker fantasies heal me. Enjoy! (P.s. thinking of doing a Tae fic soon??)

“Just, hold onto me,” Jungkook smiles. It’s a toothy grin, one that would usually send butterflies of affection straight to your tummy. His lip piercings shine like the metal around his fingers and ears, catching the midnight glow of the street lamps against them.

“There’s no seat belt,” you exhale.

“Of course,” he laughs a little. Brown hairs fall over his forehead with the soft force of his voice. You’re too nervous to move them out of the way like you usually would right now. “It’s a motorcycle, baby. I’m your seat belt.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“Kook, I’m not sure—” you begin, but he stops you. Cold hands cup your cheeks, his nose inches from yours. You can smell cherries on his breath, left over from the cherry flavored lollipop he bought from one of the gum ball machines at the entrance of the diner you just ate at.

“Baby,” he kisses your lips once. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”

You exhale against his lips, knowing his words are true. But still, your mind can’t help but evaluate all the “what ifs”.

“I’ll go slow,” he smiles softly. “No games.”

“Promise?” You search his eyes. You know he isn’t lying. He’d never play with your safety like that. He loves you too much. Such an over protective boyfriend. A big teddy bear at heart despite the piercings, tattoos, and loud motorcycle he has to his name. He’d never do anything to harm you.

“I promise,” he kisses you again. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you exhale. The boy smiles again. It shoves your nervous butterflies away and briefly replaces them with those affectionate butterflies you missed dearly.

“Good,” he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his pillowy lips against yours, sliding between your lips like they were made to be there. You almost grab his jaw to keep him against you. But he cuts the kiss short. The taste of cherries is left on your lips when he pulls away and grabs the spare helmet off the back of his bike.

“Put this on,” he hands it to you. It’s black and glossy and twice the size of your head. But you slide it on anyways, looking at your boyfriend through the tinted glasses of the helmet.

“How do I look?” You ask him.

Jungkook’s heart nearly flips. Who would have thought you’d be so cute with a helmet on? He did. You just confirmed it.

“Cold,” he settles with. Pulling of his biker jacket, he puts it over your shoulders. It’s night, and the air will only get colder once he starts riding. The jacket will provide extra protection if you fall, too. It’s thick exterior and interior act as a buffer against any surface. He doesn’t have a spare, but he’d risk himself for you on any occasion.

You slide the bulky sleeves up your arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar garment. It doesn’t really feel like a proper jacket, too stiff and thick to have on unless you were riding.

“Now, the key is to just lean,” he puts his own helmet over his head, trying to refocus. You watch his tattooed fingers grasp the handle of the left side of his bike after he walks over to it. “And hold onto me. Tight.”

He swings a leg over his bike, situating himself. Cocking his head to the side, he signals to you to come over. You do as you’re told.

With timid hands, you tightly hold onto his shoulder and hike yourself over his bike. It wobbles, and your heart skips a couple beats at the thought of falling. But Jungkook is calm, and you feel slightly reassured knowing he trusts the bike won’t do as you thought it would.

“H-How tight?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. The softness of his t-shirt makes you feel better. Rather, the feeling of his body underneath your fingertips does. It’s soft and warm, but you feel the ridges of his abs as you test the tightness of your grip.

“Tighter,” he asks. You do.

He shakes his head. You see a wrinkle in his eye, knowing he’s smiling behind his helmet. With his rough hands, he grabs your own, tightening them himself around his waist.

“For dear life, Y/n,” he rubs your hands soothingly afterward.

You nod, doing as he says. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips at the tightness of your grip. He pulls his biker gloves and his keys out of his pocket before putting them on. With a twist of his key, the bike comes to life with a loud roar, and you somehow grip him tighter. He wishes you could see the blush he has going on right now. It’s worthy of a few lines of humiliation you like to throw at him whenever he’s feeling flustered by you.

“You ready?” He double checks.

You take a deep breath, telling him yes, which prompts him to lean the bike to the side and kick up the kickstand. He leans forward a little, and you move with him. With a flick of his wrist, you’re moving with him on his bike.

You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The bike is moving! You’re gripping his t-shirt, probably some of his skin underneath, too, holding on for dear life like he instructed.

“Kook!” You inhale, weary of the already fast approaching speed. Little do you know he’s barely made it to the local street speed limit.

“Trust me,” he tells you surely.

Looking at the sureness of his hands on the steering, the steadiness of his pace, you decide it’s time you really do. This is Jungkook. He wouldn’t let you backpack unless he knew he was sure enough to handle you as one, unless he knew you’d be safe with him as a rider. He’s been training for this moment. Never proposing the idea until recently, and you knew it was because he finally felt ready to be trusted with your safety.

You’re still a little nervous, but you’ve transferred most of that into your arms and hands. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms fully around his waist, leaning into his back as you let him guide you through the night. He’s guided you through many things in life. Your first tattoo, your first New Years kiss. Your first true love. You trust him with your soul. You love him with all of it, too.

Under his helmet, Jungkook smiles with content when you wrap your hands around him. You’re trusting him. He feels the weight of responsibility. But moreover, the excitement of showing you something he loves. Of showing someone he loves something he loves to do. Riding through the night with wind going against him. The motor of his bike propelling him forward as he rides under the stars. How he’s dreamed of taking you on one of his joyrides. Something in him knew you would like it.

He goes faster, not daring to enter the highway on your first ride without your permission. But he goes through the local roads, hitting the exact speed of the speed limit given to him. Not going a unit over the number on the signs. You giggle when you realize, knowing the boy you hold onto usually does go a little over, even in the car. But the fact fills you with warmth that he wouldn’t dare play games with speed right now. Not with you on his back.

After a certain point, you reach a red light, and he puts a foot on the ground to stabilize the bike at the stop.

“How do you like it?” He turns his head slightly to check in with you.

“I love it,” you smile. “I love you.”

His big heart skips, and he looks back at the time on the cross walk to see if he has enough time to kiss you silly from your confession. But you give him no time.

“You can go faster,” you scooch closer to him.

“You sure?” He looks back at you again. The red reflection of the light still beams on his helmet.

You nod. “Take me on the highway, Kook.”

Suddenly, the light turns green.

“Okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. A small laugh erupts through his chest. When did you get so dauntless? “Better hold on, then.”

You squeal, doing as he says when he accelerates forward. He’s faster this time, still stable and not at all reckless. But the wind catches your clothes enough to know he’s going to do as promised.

The laughs that erupt from your body when he hits the highway is enough to solidify that he’s so totally going to kiss you so silly tonight. Maybe all night, if you’ll let him.

He stays in the slow lane, going the minimum speed the highway gives, and yet you’re screaming joy and laughing relief out of your lungs as he guides you through the night. Just you and your biker boyfriend.

You trust him enough to take one hand away, letting your fingertips feel the wind of this summer night. But it’s interrupted after a while when Jungkook’s hand returns your own his waist. He pats the top of your palm a few times, telling you to behave, and you do. You hold him tighter, if that’s possible. Scooching closer to him as he finishes the ride off the highway.

The streets start to look familiar, the houses and street names ringing bells in your head. You’re sad to end the ride, honestly. Especially when he pulls up to his townhome, sliding into the parking spot right in front of it all a little too soon.

With steady hands, you sit up from your leaned position, still holding his waist, as he turns off the bike. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, brown messy hair falling around his ears from the release of the protective gear. There’s a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and you almost went to kiss it if it weren’t for your helmet. Before you can take it off, the man is already standing up, positioning himself in front of you to pull it off himself. You swing your leg around the bike, leaning your feet against the pavement as you stay seated. He stares down at you, tall and handsome as he awaits your approval.

“Well?” He tugs his lips upward. The piercings on his eyebrow dance as he raises it.

“I loved it,” you candor. “I kind of want to suck your cock right now.”

He laughs, crinkled nose and all. That nose nudges with yours when he kisses you. It’s slower than the pecks from before, when he was coaxing you into the joyride with him.

“That much?” He laughs. Those rough hands of his help you stand, the reminder of chest against yours only makes your heart flutter more. “Should have taken you sooner, then.”

“It was perfect, Kook,” you hold his jaw. “I really loved it.”

He looks at the stars in your eyes. The overwhelming presence of you in his biker jacket, holding his spare helmet in one hand and his jaw in the other. God, could you be any more perfect? He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

So he leans into you, holding the back of your neck as he sears his lips onto yours. He’s still cherry flavored, and you can taste it surely when he dips his tongue into your mouth. You envelope it warmly, kissing him with all the love you have. Except you wish you could feel more of him, have his skin against yours. You want the hand that holds his helmet to hold your waist. For your own hand that holds his spare to run through his hair. You want to be on his lap, to look at him from above, sweaty hair and brown eyes.

He seems to read your mind, detaching your lips only slightly when he whispers against them, “Do you want to go in?”

You nod, watching him smile knowingly. It’s one of those smiles he gives when he’s shy, when he feels bashful and is receiving more attention than he’s used to. It’s one of his cutest smiles to-date. The desire to jump his bones is stronger than it’s been all night.

You follow him as he walks up to the door. He takes your helmet from his hand and balances it on his finger like he does with his own. The key turns, and the smell of his apartment fills your lungs. It smells like him. Like man, but better. A strange thing to think about, as you never associated “man” with smelling good. But he does, somehow. He smells like home.

You follow in suit, taking your shoes off as he does the same when hooking your helmets on his biking rack next to his door. You lock it for him, and he smiles back at you in a quick thanks.

Quickly, you tread in front of him, becoming taller as you leave him in the shoe divot in front of the door.

“So does this mean you’ll let me take you on a few of my joyrides, then?” he asks you.

“You can take me on all of them if you want to,” you promise.

He comes up to you, destroying the height confidence you had from before when he steps up from the shoe divot.

“I love you,” he cups your jaw with both of his hands this time. Puffy lips connect with yours, they’re hot and slightly damp, firmly kissing you. Passion presses your back against the wall, his frame engulfing your body in love and lust as he kisses you. You can only return the favor, sliding your hands up his clothed chest. He breaks his grasp on your jaw when your hands slide around his neck, prompting him to replace his hands underneath your thighs instead. With no effort at all, as if you weigh a feather in his strong arms, he lifts you around his waist.

The new angle allows you to kiss him deeper, your hand securing around his neck and shoulder. Big hands hold your waist and back. He walks with you, messing around through his apartment, taking you to his bedroom by pure muscle memory as he’s too distracted by the smell your clothes against his skin to focus on anything else.

For a second, his hand leaves your back to push open his door. The lamp on his bedside table is still on, something he forgot to turn off when he left to meet you at the diner with your friend and her date earlier.

Gently, almost as if you were made of glass, he lays you on his sheets. You still have his biker jacket on, and he swears it’s never looked better on anyone else.

“Biker looks good on you,” he says, admiring you from above.

“Want me to leave it on?” You suggest, an eyebrow raise up at him.

You visibly see his cheeks turn red, and you have your answer before he can even say it.

“You don’t have to,” he denies. But you’re already sliding it off, taking your shirt and bra underneath before bringing the jacket over your shoulder again and zipping it up halfway.

He looks at you, bewildered and so terribly infatuated before he hides his face in his palm and groans. He’s so unbelievably flustered and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re going to kill me, Y/n,” he muffles in his hand.

You almost say something, but he’s already trapping your frame underneath his, searing his lips onto the skin of your neck. He bites and sucks at your skin, marking you in his purple and blue love bites. You can’t get enough, tilting your head for more, which he gladly gives you.

You pant lustfully in response when he hits your sweet spot. His lips are delicate at first when he comes across the territory he’s memorized so well. But you know better than to think that he’d stay that way. Not when he knows how it causes you to slide your hands in his hair and pull at his scalp in the way he likes best. Not when he knows you’ll react with the breathy moans he loves so much that flow from your lips at the slightest kiss. So he does just that, feeling your back arch into his chest and your fingers tangle in his hair when he plays with your pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you flutter. His lips feel so good, like they were made to make you feel like this.

He kisses down your neck, coming to the base of the zipper you left done halfway up the jacket. Slowly, he unzips it, watching the fabric part ways as gravity takes it to the sides of the bed. The jacket doesn’t completely reveal your breasts though, so he takes matters into his own hands and cups them from underneath.

His stare makes you feel shy, and you inhale sharply when his thumbs brush over your nipples slightly. The reaction makes you even more shy, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide the small moans that leave your mouth.

“So pretty,” he looks up at you.

You tug at the rim of his t-shirt, begging him to take it off as you lay open chested below him. He only chuckles at the realization, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, way too preoccupied with you to take care of himself.

He does as you ask and more, tugging off his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. You feel a wave of slick come through your panties at the sight. Tattoos and muscles stare back at you. You try to ignore the halfy he’s sporting in his boxers, a pure reminder of the activities you wanted to give to him as a thank you for taking you for a ride on his bike.

But he’s quick to turn you down when you sit up to do just that, hiking his fingers under your pants and sliding them down along with your underwear. He throws them somewhere on his floor, falling to his knees to admire you.

“Oh honey,” he marvels at the sight, sliding a slender finger gently up your folds. “You’re soaked.”

You whimper against the back of your hand.

“I-I wanted to suck you off,” you protest, placing a hand on his wrist. Not because you necessarily want him to stop, but because you were scared about how good his touch feels already. “As a thank you.”

“What for, baby?” He stops playing with you, his spare hand cups your thigh. Soothingly, his thumb rubs against your skin, waiting for your answer.

“For letting me ride with you,” you respond.

“You don’t need me to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiles gently. “I’d allow you to ride with me any time you want. I need to thank you for trusting me enough to want to,” he takes your hand in his. Those big doe eyes capture yours, asking for permission with stars in his eyes. “Will you let me?”

Fuck, will this man be the end of you. Of course you will, you’re basically leaking infront of his face.

You nod, and he shyly smiles again. The hand that had previously slipped up your folds springs to life again. This time, it circles your entrance gently, causing you to whimper into your skin. Hot lips envelope your clit, his tongue playing with you softly.

“K-Kook,” you gasp at the feeling. He only hums, his eyes closing when he applies more pressure into your leaking heat. The vibrations from his moans against your clit cause you to arch your back, your head falling back against the sheets when his fingers play in tandem with his tongue. They tempt over your cunt, circling your hole and gathering your juices just enough to make you go crazy.

He detaches his mouth for a brief moment, his lips covered in your heat, red with lust, as he watches you squirm when he replaces his thumb with his tongue over your clit. His mouth always does wonders, but something about his thumb against that ball of nerves makes you clutch onto your orgasm for dear life. It’s firm against you, not too harsh, but just enough to make you feel all of it when he circles it slowly underneath his thumb. Jungkook pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed, completely in control as you let him thank you. He watches you carefully as he inserts a finger into your aching pussy, seeing how you gasp and grab onto his wrist. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re fully aware of that. You also don’t want him to stop—your grasping onto him a mere reaction for support.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks you. He’s so gentle, always so cautious at first. You know at one point he’ll become a sex demon and ram you into the sheets. But he’s being a sweetheart right now, wanting to coax an orgasm or two out of you first. He does it right.

“Mhm,” you solidify. Your answer is weak, too taken over by the sliding of his finger against your walls.

“Do you want my mouth?” He asks. You know he’s asking permission, well too aware that the combo is a recipe for an orgasm.

“Y-yes, please,” you give it to him.

He chuckles at your polite response, although it takes over his desire in ways that he’s struggling to control. You’re just so sweet to him, always so perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for anything more. You’re perfect. And you’re his.

He replaces his thumb with his mouth again, this time moving faster than before. His pace quickens, and he adds another finger to your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you dig your fingers into his hair, pressing him against your pussy. It gets him high, moaning against your cunt shyly as he curls his fingers against your g-spot.

“Jungkook, m’ gonna cum,” you whine into air. Both your hands secure his head on your mound, as if he’d leave before you finish.

He feels you clench around his fingers, so damn tight his cock twitches in his boxers embarrassingly. But he ignores it, taking his mouth off your cunt to give you his thumb again. The change makes you arch your back, the coil in your tummy slowly unraveling beneath him.

“There you go,” he coaxes you. “Good girl.”

You gush at the nickname. White heat flows around his fingers, and he replaces them with his tongue as you finish against his lips. The sensation is almost too much, your over sensitivity making you whimper and close your thighs around his head to stop him.

“K-Koo,” you whine. “Sensitive.”

He finishes up at your request, swallowing your release sweetly. He leaves you gently to stand up, tossing his boxers somewhere on the floor. You’re left to catch your breath, an arm over your eyes as you gasp into the air of his bedroom. Only when you feel his familiar frame tower over you again do you look up. You’re met with a sweaty man with wet lips and a lovestuck smile plastered on his features.

“You okay?” He kisses your forehead.

“Mm,” is all you have the strength to say.

You feel his thumb pry your mouth open.

“Open for me,” he asks you anyways. You mewl when you see him gathering spit in his mouth. He transfers it to you rudely, and you feel you might just cum again from the sheer force of it. He’s so hot, you feel overwhelmed.

You feel it enough to gain the strength to flip him over when he’s off guard, straddling his hips with his biker jacket on your shoulders.

“What’s this?” He grabs your waist. God, you look so good in his clothes.

“Let me give you a ride this time, Kookie,” you suggest.

He swears he’s never heard anything hotter in his life. It makes his dick leak with precum, your suggestion paired with his favorite girl in his favorite jacket ontop of him.

Your soft hands lay on his chest for support as you lift up your hips. He helps you, grabbing your waist with his big hands. You grab his cock, so big and just for you, lining it up with your wet cunt. You slide it in with a small gasp of your lips, and you swear you see his eyes roll back slightly at the feeling.

“Oh,” you softly gasp as he fills you up. The stretch is so good from this angle, filling every inch of your walls up to the brim. You feel all of him, and he can feel all of you, too. You know it with the way he grips your hips, telling you to give him a minute when you reach the base.

You give him just that, before you test the waters again and start a pace.

“Fuck,” he tilts his head back. You riding him is an entirely different sensation, his thighs slack and your ass bouncing on his cock as you use him for pleasure. You feel so good, you always feel so good. So perfect for him.

“Koo,” you mewl as your hands plant for support just below his rib cage. Your hips move perfectly, bouncing on his cock like it’s your day job. It’s exhausting, but it feels too good to stop. You won’t until it’s too much, until you can’t do it anymore.

You see why Jungkook likes to be on top most the time. The view from this angle is sickening. You see the sweat coming down from his scalp and neck. It begs to make entry into his forehead, and you hope at one point it does. Brown hair flops and lays over his skin and the sheets blow him. His Adams apple bobs every time he moans and swallows. You see every scar, mole, and blush this man presents to you. You feel entirely privileged that he is all yours.

He catches you staring, his big hands that you love so much cup your thighs on either side of his hips.

You feel sweaty in his jacket, already knowing it probably smells like sex and sweat already. You feel flush from the heat, and he seems to take note, coming up to hug around your waist with one arm and push off the jacket with the other. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed, supporting you on his lap as the jacket falls to the floor.

“So pretty,” he hums against your lips. His cock throbs inside of you, and you beg for friction, pushing your knees against the mattress and sliding up and down ontop of him again. “You like this, huh? You like fucking my cock?”

“Yes,” you whine against his neck. You feel like a horny teenager, unable to get enough of the man beneath you.

“So needy, baby,” he helps your pace with his hands on your hips. It’s quicker, making you dig your fingers into his scalp as you moan against his neck. “You like riding me? Tell me which one you like to ride more, my bike or my cock. Hm?”

“Y-You,” you respond almost immediately. But he doesn’t seem to like your answer, his hand landing a harsh slap against your ass that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulder.

“I can’t hear you, baby,” he kisses your neck.

You somehow muster the strength to face him again, your hips changing direction slightly to rock back and forth against him. It makes your cheeks feel numb and your fingers tingly, his dick pressing against your g-spot so delicately.

You nudge your nose against his, his cherry flavored lips ever so slightly touching yours.

“You,” you repeat. “I like to ride you more than anything.”

That seems to do it for him, your short ride of dominance ended as his lips take you over. He kisses you until he’s got you in your back again, his body obsessed with your own.

“So perfect for me,” he kisses you. “Let me fuck you good, yeah? My perfect baby.”

You can only nod, ready to come back to your throne as pillow princess. Your boyfriend takes your thighs, hiking them up around his back before he rams into you.

He fucks you like he’s in heat, needy and overwhelmed. His tip hits you in all the right places, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You scratch at his tattoos, chanting his name against his neck as he makes you feel good over and over again.

“J-Jungkook,” you gasp. You try to say your words, but you’re hit with euphoria with every thrust he delivers into your body. “Koo, I-“

“I know, baby,” he shushes you, a kiss to your cheek. “Just cum for me, hm?” He suggests.

“C-Close,” you tell him. The man seems to know your body more than you know it yourself, his lips reattaching to your sweet spot so delicately, it doesn’t match up at all with the way his hips piston into you. “Jungkook,” you gasp when he sucks there. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach returns, and you feel warm throughout your entire body.

With his hair in your face, lips on your neck, and hands caging your body beneath his, you tighten around his cock, unraveling for the second time underneath the man above you.

You feel him twitch, knowing he’s not that far behind you. He moans so sweetly against your neck when you tighten around him, his hips losing rhythm as you cum on his dick.

“Sso tight,” he groans against your neck. “I-Is inside okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh against his ear. You’re so fucked out, so obsessed with him. You really don’t know if there’s a request out of his cherry lips you can deny.

“Oh, ah—“ he grips the sheets, balling them up in his fists. “M’ gonna cum.”

You simply run your hand through his hair, gripping it strongly as he thrusts harshly inside you. It overstimulates you, and you pant his name against his scalp as his seed spills out of you in hot, thick ropes. His moans are like music to your ears. So breathy and sweet. You swear you’ve never heard anything more lovely in your life.

The two of you calm down, your sweaty bodies absolutely filthy with summer night air, the smell of motorcycle exhaust, sex, sweat, and cum. It starts to make you cringe after a while. Ever the attentive one, your boyfriend notices and comes up from his place by your neck.

He gives you a soft smile before pecking your lips gently.

“I’ll start the shower,” he offers, pecking your lips again.

You let him leave you for a few seconds. Feeling cold and bare, you get up and search for your clothes. But you’re unable to find them, probably kicked somewhere underneath the bed. You only see Jungkook’s t-shirt and his jacket from before. So you slide the t-shirt over your head, feeling giddy again with the smell of him engulfing your senses.

With sore legs and an aching core, you walk over to the bathroom, hugging your man from behind like you did on his bike just an hour ago.

“This is my favorite part,” you start, holding him tighter.

“Hugging me?” He asks.

“Mhm,” you confirm.

You feel him laugh a bit in your arms, turning around in them only to poke at your frown.

“I like to hold you close. Especially when you go fast suddenly and I get a little scared,” you look up at him.

The shower mist fills up the mirror, and the heat lulls you into the feeling of sleepiness his aftercare always gives you.

“I never want to scare you,” he kisses your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you lean into his palm, his hand holding your face close as he kisses your swollen lips softly.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he cups your hips.

You open your eyes, watching him eye the shirt you’re wearing.

“Seriously, baby, you gotta stop wearing my clothes,” he slides his t-shirt over your head. “It’s doing things to me.”

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear your biker suit then,” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Now that would murder me.”

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]

2K notes · View notes

luveline · 6 months

Note

Ok this isn’t Halloween but I would love to see a fic of the first time r spends the night at Aaron’s and she changes into her pj which r these super cute delicate tank and shorts set and Aaron goes crazy!! Like he’s a gentleman obvi (or trying hard to be) but he starts opening my flirting with her and she’s so confused bc usually he’s much more subtle

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

cw adult theme mdni

You don't bother changing in the bathroom. It's not an attempt to come onto him, though you're wondering if he might want that, but a realistic practice. If Aaron wants to be intimate with you tonight he's going to see much more of you than your bra.

He returns from the bathroom as you're pulling down your camisole. It's a simple pair of pyjamas but made of a more expensive fabric, the shorts bordering immodest and the camisole cupping your breasts with enough support that a quick glance in the mirror tells you what you'd wanted to know; you look cute.

Aaron smiles at you, something unreadable in his expression. His brows lift ever so slightly. "Nice socks."

"I get cold feet sometimes," you say, pressing your fuzzy heels together.

"Yeah?" he asks, pushing his hair out of his face. "Me too."

"What side do you sleep on?" you ask.

"What side do you sleep on?" he asks back. "Go where you want."

You pick a random side, too nervous to think about it in depth. The sheets are crisps to the touch and smell freshly laundered, soft against your naked legs. You feel a little like you're playing make believe all cleaned and washed yourself, your heart in your wrist as you squeeze it, watching him flick off the big light and cross the carpeted floor slowly. His room, his entire apartment, is smart but cosy, ambient lamp light and open space.

"Do you wanna watch TV?" he asks, putting the remote in your lap as he shakes out the sheet and slips in next to you. His body heat is immediately felt. His knee brushes yours as he leans in. "Hold that button down."

Despite what you'd said about cold feet, you're nervous and he runs warm; by the time you've found something to watch on TV he's sewn his arm through yours and you're practically running a temperature. You have to take your legs back out and lie atop the sheets.

You pull a knee up. The shorts ease down.

Aaron sinks into the bed with you, his head just a touch higher than your own. "I'm really happy you're here," he says.

"I'm happy too," you say, turning your face to his. Nervous, sure, but this is a milestone for your new relationship you're ecstatic to achieve.

Even if he doesn't have any seductive intention tonight, you're eager to spend the night in his arms. He's older (impossible to ignore), more gentlemanly as a consequence, and during the course of your relationship there have been more important things than sex, like establishing trust with one another, and making sure that your relationship could withstand his constant working.

"I'm really happy," you say, lifting your chin and fireworks erupt in your chest as he leans down to meet you, kissing you gently.

"Is this…" His hand trails to the soft of your stomach, pink brushing your thigh where it's hiked. "Your usual nighttime attire?"

"This is the wanting my boyfriend to like it attire," you confess, because he already knows. Aaron knows everything. He could tell you where you bought them if you gave him long enough.

"Consider them true to form," he says, hand sliding like a heavy, hot weight across your stomach and leaving a worse heat behind. "You look amazing."

"Yeah?" you ask.

His lips skin your cheek. He nudges you with his nose to encourage your head back and kisses softly under the line of your jaw, "They're a little small," he says, kissing between whispers, "the shorts."

"They're not tight," you whisper in turn.

His hand falls to your thigh, spreading your legs a terrible inch as he tugs at the hem of your shorts. His fingertips dip under them a millimetre as he agrees, "No, they're not. Your top, though…"

"It was a matching set. I couldn't choose–"

"Do you have many like it?" he asks, pulling away, meeting your eyes with a charge you've only seen a handful of times. You know exactly what it means, your chest aching with want as his hand comes to rest at the top of your thigh.

"Sure. Two or three."

"That won't do."

You're nervous, but he's your boyfriend. You know more about him than he might think even if you don't know him intimately yet, and his arduousness makes you laugh. He's always been such a gentleman —not many men would ask you to be their girlfriend with a pearl necklace, or invite you to stay the night via text rather than at the end of a date. You'd expected your first time together to be a come up for coffee situation, but he's never propositioned you that way. The text was a sweet surprise, an addition.

Would you like to stay over after dinner on Friday? Let me know. Can't wait to see you either way.

No matter what you want, Aaron wants that too.

You turn into his lap and catch his lips with yours, his hand encroaching on the soft fat of your inner thigh.

His lips part under yours and you take his face into your hands, a giving in if there ever were one, hoping it says everything you're too shy to admit aloud. No matter how much he clearly likes the shorts, he abandons your thigh and hugs your back to him instead, your chests pressed together until yours is heaving for air.

"You're usually more subtle than this," you tease, breathless, good-natured.

"You aren't usually wearing this," he says, his usually smooth voice roughened, "I'm losing my mind."

"Well, we can't have that."

He leans back in, laughing against your lips. When his hand works its way under your camisole, you think about where you can get more pyjamas like these ones considering he likes them so badly, but then his hand crawls higher and the thought leaves your mind for the time being.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

2K notes · View notes

hiking4fun · 2 years

Photo

The brightness of this LED head torch is 140 Lumens and can light your way up to 10 metres helping you to see clearly the area and objects when out in the darkness.

More details please follow link below

(via LED Head torch)

#hiking #walking #trekking #trek #light #portable light #head lamp

1 note · View note

woahjo · 3 months

Note

CAAALLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!

police officer Gojo who likes to fuck his partner police officer y/n on their free time

like they have a break or sum and they just fuck. not eat not rest, just fuck.

once they get like a message saying “we got someone” or sum thing, IT DONT MATTER OF GOJO WAS ABOUT TO CUM OR READER IS DRIPPING, THEY COMPLETELY STOP AND GO PROFESSIONAL MODE

YOU ARE SO UNSERIOUSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! mid fuck but bro it's go time....

like a fwb situation...... yeah..

cw: cop!gojo, fwb, car sex, no foreplay, mentions of teasing, possessiveness, overstimulation (m!receiving), little to no aftercare (interrupted sort of), no condom, spit

gojo crowds you into the backseat of the car, standing in front of the open side door. it's parked just behind an old warehouse, out of sight from the street lamps illuminating the nearby busy road. the cruiser lights are off and he fumbles hurriedly for his belt, the metal clamoring as he tosses it haphazardly onto the floor of the backseat.

"i'd say we have fifteen minutes," he breathes, crawling over you and pushing you deeper into the car.

you reach for his buttons, fingers trembling with anticipation as his hands move down to remove your belt and unbutton your uniform pants. satoru leans over to kiss you. he's sloppy and over eager, fumbling blindly with your bottoms and helping to pull them off as you raise your hips off the seat.

"close the door," you mutter, not really letting him sit up to do so.

he reaches behind him and grabs the handle, slamming it shut and situating onto all fours.

"ouch, fuck- my feet," he says, leaning down again to kiss you.

you reach eagerly between the two of you, fishing his cock from his boxers, already hard and leaking. he shudders when you touch him, his head relaxing a little against your mouth as he groans. you feel it vibrate against your lips, gathering precum with your thumb and spreading it down.

"you're already hard," you say, half-teasing, spitting into your open palm and taking him in your hand again.

"obviously," he groans, leaning to kiss at the sensitive skin on your neck. satoru bites down on the soft flesh and you gasp at the sudden feeling. "look at you."

you snort a small laugh, taking the back of his head in your free hand and guiding him back to your mouth. your hand runs along the steady curve of his cock, squeezing a little harder when you get to the top just to feel the way he jumps against your palm. you'd tease him all day if you could. satoru has a really nice way of acting when you get him riled up. he whines like a needy puppy, bucking his hips with teary eyes. you don't have time for that today though and guide him to your entrance with relative ease.

"you want it?" he asks through a slick grin.

"cocky little-" satoru pushes himself inside of you, interrupting your sentence, "shit."

satoru lets out a low groan as he slides in, dropping his head to mouth at the exposed skin of your collarbone. he bullies the hem of your shirt down with his face, biting and licking at any skin fortunate enough to be reached.

"knees up," he mumbles, reaching behind them and hiking them up to his waist.

it's an aggressive motion and he hits a sensitive spot on your leg that makes you wince. it'd have been unpleasant if you didn't like the way he handled you in his fervor. overeager and desperate, you find that he likes it when he man-handles you a bit in this needy state.

satoru rolls his hips into you, tucking himself deeper with a moan. you shudder, knotting your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and putting another hand on his ass to push him farther. he doesn't really waste any time easing you in. sometimes, satoru will fuck you painstakingly slowly just to savor the way you clench. today, he seems to be on a mission, bullying your cunt until it's molded into the shape of him.

when you're worked up like this, whining and clasping at his back to pull him closer, you sometimes feel like you're made for him. like god preordained satoru fucking you in the backseat of this cruiser behind this dumpy warehouse. it just feels right.

you can feel the muscles in his upper back shift with each thrust. you feel the way they tremble under your fingertips, threatening to break under the pressure of his pleasure. satoru kisses you sloppily while he fucks you, all teeth and tongue. he bites at your bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. you tug your head back to let him pull on it, sucking the fleshy skin into his mouth before soothing his tongue over the ache.

"shit," he breathes. "i'm gonna cum first again."

"that's fine," you respond, taking the back of his head and pulling him close. "cum. please." you do this so often that it feels normal.

satoru sits up on his knees and takes your waist in his hands, situating you so that your hips are resting on the tops of his thighs. it's a bit uncomfortable, but he hits you deeper this way, getting you much closer, much faster. you gasp, reaching down to grab his wrists.

he piston's his hips, the exposed skin of his waist and pelvis slapping angrily against your inner thighs. you begin to tremble and satoru's grip on your waist tightens before he finishes inside of you. he fucks himself through his own orgasm with shaky breaths, mumbling about how he hopes you'll never be able to fuck anyone else.

you're not even sure if he knows he does this. satoru babbles like a man possessed. he says things that you think could probably get him arrested if you weren't as into it as you are. you clench down around him as pressure swells in your lower abdomen and satoru blindly begs for it.

"oh, come on," he says, practically drooling as he forces his eyes open. "come on, come on, come on, come on..."

when you cum, arching your back towards him as pleasure floods your body, you tighten your legs around him. your whole body shakes with relief, the desperation easing into something less urgent.

"there it is.." he says softly as you ride out the rest of it on his stilled hips.

finally, you let yourself relax. satoru leans against the window behind him, his tall framed crammed into the space. both of your chests heave and you stare at him for a second, just soaking in the image of him.

his shirt is unbuttoned at the top, loosened from all of your pulling, and his softening cock sits pretty against his thigh. you can see his lower abdomen peeking out from where his pants are sloppily unbuttoned and you watch as he tucks himself back into his boxers, zip up his pants, and blows a loose strand of white hair from his face.

you nudge him with your knee, feeling a second wind coming on and satoru gives you a puzzled look.

"what?"

you tuck your chin down and press your knee to him again, smiling a little.

"i kinda want a second round," you say casually, your eyes roaming the exposed part of his stomach. "you look good."

satoru laughs and bangs his head lightly against the window once. you know it fuels his ego when you say things like that and you smile at the way he grins. he's just about to lean back over you when the radio hums to life and illuminates the inside of the car with a glowing green.

you groan as you listen to the call. nothing serious, but you can't just ignore it and satoru grits his teeth and gives up on undoing his pants again, kissing you quickly before stepping out of the backseat.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #gojo #cal.writing #char.gojo #tw.overstimulation #tw.spit #NFRJUEA;VNREJ;bvnrejbv;nrbjv #god bless gojo satoru #makes this post a little pretty bc why not

751 notes · View notes

kitty-lemon · 2 years

Text

😓

#i want to go hiking.....in rain......on dark mountain.....rn at night #maybe set a tin camp with an oil lamp at side #wtf am i doing #this is a cry for help #i must go to sleep #new morning new hope #i am so blank rn #you know what fuck all of this #🧙🏽‍♀️🔥🕯🔥🕯🔥🕯

0 notes

wileys-russo · 2 months

Note

i’ve noticed that alexia usually doesn’t wear nail polish and it gave me a thought..

imagine reader being super happy to always do her own nails with different nail polishes and designs and having them perfectly manicured even though they are short for practical reasons and then one day reader is doing her nails bc she’s bored and alexia is there watching a match as preparation like always and reader begs her to let her do her nails as well and alexia gives in because she can’t resist reader but is like 😐 the entire time even though she secretly loves it

and reader paints the nails a rose color with small red hearts because it’s cute and ale is like 😐 still

reader posts a story of it super proud of the design (bc small hearts on short nails are a pain in the ass let me tell you) and ale still acts like she couldn’t care less

butttt then refuses to let reader take it off again and keeps it the entire time even though it grows out and gets chapped and everything and next time reader does her own nails and is about to put the nail polishes away, ale is like: what about me? ☹️

tiny red hearts II a.putellas

amid the pandemic everyone picked up a hobbie in lockdown.

if it be knitting, dancing, pottery, reading, cooking, puzzles. you name it, someone had likely perfected it as an art form during those weeks and weeks locked away from society.

you were no different. you'd tried cooking, reading, jigsaws, colouring in, sudoku, but nothing really clicked.

until one day you were endlessly doom scrolling your various social medias as again, everyone was, when you stumbled across a nail art video. intrigued you'd watched it, then another, and another, and another.

then before you knew it you had package after package arriving on your doorstep and the days melted into weeks as you worked tirelessly to perfect the art.

and now, you'd done it.

which is how you came to be sitting on the floor of your apartment, bottles of polish sat in perfect colour coded order on the coffee table with all your little brushes and tools neatly lined up in front.

your bottom lip was firmly between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed deeply with concentration as your eyes squinted and your hand moved slowly and precisely.

your girlfriend of two years whom you shared your home with lay stretched out on the sofa behind your head, toned tanned arms crossed firmly across her chest.

her face was stoic and seemingly stern as ever, nothing unusual when she was reviewing game footage and given she wasn't currently able to play her studying had only increased.

you were off in your own little world and she was in hers, you coexisted but knew how not to be codependent, one of the things that made your relationship healthy was the fact that despite how long you'd been seeing one another you still spent time apart.

you would go shopping or out for drinks with your school friends you'd known for years, as alexia would often go for dinner or hikes with some of her own childhood friends.

that's not to say you weren't infatuated with one another, and whenever you did spend time apart you were increasingly clingy that night once you were reunited but when out you knew to respect one another's time and space.

with a small exhale of relief you finally finished the intricate design you'd been working on, your frown switching quickly into a grin as you slipped your hand into the UV nail lamp and waited for them to dry.

since a young age you were known to daydream, your girlfriend finding it adorable as much as amusing as you'd zone out from reality and go somewhere she never understood. sometimes alexia would just watch you with lovesick puppy dog eyes filled with nothing but pure adoration, though always in the privacy and intimacy of just one another's company.

like right now where you'd clearly drifted off somewhere as the footballers eyes glanced down toward you and her hardened features softened, corners of her mouth curled upward into a smile.

"hola princesa." you snapped right out of it as her foot moved to push at your shoulder, dragging you back down to earth as you shrugged her off and sent her a playful glare, pulling your hand out and flicking off the lamp as both of them were now dry.

"look!" you leapt up eagerly and dropped down on the lounge next to your girlfriend, wiggling your fingers proudly at the blonde who hummed.

"muy bien bebé." alexia complimented, softly kissing your cheek and turning her attention back to the television where the match had resumed, as did the stoic expression on her face.

"alee." you started with a coy smile, grabbing her hand and interlacing your fingers with a gentle squeeze. "mm?" the midfielder hummed, eyes unmoving from the screen.

"can i paint your nails amor?" you asked, alexia only letting out a puff of air from her nose as she chuckled, shaking her head. "please! you know i'm good and they'll look good." you pleaded, squeezing her hand again.

"no princesa, no nails." alexia shook her head as you huffed, moving to rest your chin on her shoulder, lazily kissing her jaw. "please? please, please, please-" you repeated over and over, peppering kisses across her face.

now as much as alexia could be at times be a fierce woman, driven and passionate and willing to do absolutely anything to achieve whatever she set her mind to, she had a fatal soft spot.

you.

alexia would do nearly everything that you asked of her, with a few sweet words in her ear and a charming smile you had the catalan wrapped around your little finger, and you knew it.

so of course it was with a deep seeded sigh that alexia gave into your demand, wordlessly placing her free hand in your lap as you beamed. clapping happily you sat up properly and grabbed her chin in your hand, pecking her lips a few times and reveling in the slight pink blush which coated her cheeks.

you sat back down on the ground and stared carefully at your arsenal of colours, taking a few moments to decide what you wanted to do before nodding happily and grabbing what you needed.

you settled back down on the lounge as again alexia moved her hand into your lap, eyes glued to the match as her eyebrows turned downward in frustration at a fumbled tackle and an easily preventable shot at the barcelona goal.

"you will get wrinkles corazón." you teased, smoothing out her eyebrows with your thumb as the tiniest of smiles flickered across her face just for a moment which wasn't missed by you.

warning her to stay still you placed her right hand down on your knee and grabbed out the first colour after tugging the coffee table closer so everything you needed was well within reach to avoid anything being knocked or falling.

much as alexia might bend over backwards to do as you asked you knew well enough if you spilled even a drop of polish on the carpet or the sofa you'd be hearing about it for days.

as you set to work your girlfriends face remained stoic, but her bright hazel eyes flickered down to you curiously every now and then, corner of her lip curling upward at the look of sheer concentration on your face and the way the tip of your tongue poked out of the side of your mouth.

finishing one hand you blew gently on the nails, unable to use the machine which was plugged in and just out of reach. though not in any rush as you awaited her first hand to dry you kept a cautious eye that she didn't move as your head dropped to her shoulder.

there was a comfortable silence between you, the only sound the occasional grunt of frustration from the taller girl whose side you were curled into, a shake of her head and something mumbled under her breath at every costly mistake.

her first hand drying you tapped her knee, gesturing for her to swing her legs into your lap so you could reach her other hand. shuffling her body she did as you asked, sliding down a little as her head thumped backward into the soft cushions behind.

you couldn't do anything to keep the smile off your face as you worked on your girlfriends nail design, incredibly happy with how it turned out as again you gently blew on her hand, settling it back into her lap to dry.

warning her about not moving you crawled up the lounge and wedged yourself in beside her, sitting half on top of her much to the older girls amusement as you pulled her other arm to drape across your shoulder allowing you to tuck yourself even tighter into her side.

checking a few moments later you were happy they were dry and sat up a little, shrugging off your girlfriends arm and eagerly taking her hands in yours.

"done." you announced happily, holding her hands up as alexia's eyes moved from the tv to her hands which made yours seem tiny, your own gaze falling to admire both the size difference and the small 11 tattooed on the back of her palm.

"i did more of a pale pink because i know you do not like them too bright, but i did tiny red hearts on each nail for barca!" you explained with a beaming smile, alexia melting at the confession as she stole a glance toward you and softened even more seeing the clear delight in your eyes.

"perfecto bebita." your girlfriend gave you a small smile not giving much away, one of her hands slipping around to cup the back of your neck and bringing you into a tender kiss.

"can i put them on my story? i think these are some of my favourites." you asked hopefully as alexia shrugged, eyes having returned back to the final few minutes of the match, seemingly unfazed.

grabbing your phone you positioned her hands on her knees, taking a few photos and editing your favourite before adding it onto your instagram and curling back up on top of your girlfriend who held you tightly, eyes flickering down to her nails with a small hidden smile every few minutes.

that next day at training was a very different story though as alexia couldn't wait to show off her nails to the rest of the team. the morning was spent with the midfielder very proudly boasting how good you were and that you were completely self taught, ignoring all the teasing remarks thrown her way about how she'd gone soft.

when you'd come to collect her that afternoon having dropped her off and borrowed her car for the day as yours was being serviced you were overwhelmed as a small group of the girls suddenly swarmed you in the carpark.

"hey hey hey back up vale!" alexia warned protectively, moving in front of you with a mean stare as a few of the younger girls cowered and hurried off to their own cars as the rest rolled their eyes.

"me next amiga! maybe little black hearts? or...letters." mapi beamed, eyes flickering toward her girlfriend who caught onto what she was wanting and blushed as you laughed.

"get your own! este es mío." alexia huffed, wrapping herself around you as her chin hooked into your shoulder and she sent her best friend a glare.

"tomorrow? you can cook me dinner as payment." you offered, mapi agreeing eagerly as you promised to also do ingrid's nails as you caught her pouting at you over her girlfriends head.

"sí, sí! before the next game chicas, promise." you laughed as pina, salma and patri swooped in next undeterred by the murderous glare given by your girlfriend who refused to unwind her arms where they wrapped tightly around your torso holding your back flush to her front.

"we are going! relax capi, you will get wrinkles." patri smirked as alexia's eyes narrowed even further and the three sprinted off and away. with a small laugh you craned your back back staring up at your girlfriend with a wide grin.

"see amor? i warned you about the frown wrinkles."

you expected alexia to allow the nails for a couple of days before she'd want to return back to normal with a clean set again, so you were surprised when anytime you'd offer to help her take it off she seemed to come up with every and any excuse not to.

by the end of day five with the rigorous gym program and workouts needed with alexia's recovery the polish was cracked and chipped, most of it worn off and faded, hearts now barely small red blobs.

it was that night alexia finally seemed eager for you to wipe them clean, again swinging her long bare legs into your lap and settling her hands on her knee for you to work on.

the removal process compared to the creation was next to nothing and before even five minutes had passed you were finished, tapping her legs to let you up to move your things back to the bathroom where they normally lived.

when you returned it was to an empty and dark living room, changing route you followed the light at the end of the hallway where you finally found your girlfriend once more.

you held a hand over your mouth to stifle the loud boom of laughter you wished you could get out, the catalan having fallen deep asleep on top of the bed, one of your favorite dramas playing in the background where she'd clearly intended the two of you to lay in bed together and watch.

with a small sigh of amusement you flitted back around the house ensuring everything was locked and off before you returned, closing the bedroom door behind you with a gentle click.

the room now only illuminated by the dim glow of the tv as you flicked off the downlight you made you way around to her side of the bed and crouched down.

"amor. amor. cari? ale." you repeated softly, moving one arm to shake her lightly when there was no response, the blondes chocolate brown eyes fluttering open tiredly as you shook her a little harder.

"hey baby, into bed?" you ran a hand through her mane of hair, moving a few loose strands off her forehead with a soft smile as the footballer sighed tiredly but sat up as you tugged down the covers allowing her to slip inside properly.

already showered and changed you ducked off to the bathroom to brush your teeth before joining her, chuckling as once more she was seemingly dead to the world, mouth ever so slightly ajar as her blonde hair sprawled across the pillow.

though as the mattress dipped, never the heaviest of sleepers alexia awoke a little, turning around to her other side and shuffling down the bed as her face pressed into your neck and her long legs tangled with yours, feet rubbing against one another.

you felt an i love you mumbled against your skin as her arms wrapped tightly around you, latching her taller body firmly onto yours making you smile and tangle a hand in her hair.

the next night you removed your own nail polish and sat down to redo it, having spent a few hours scrolling through for inspiration before it struck and within minutes you'd grabbed what you needed and settled.

though before you could even glance to the bottles of polish a body dropped down next to you and suddenly strong hands were on your hips lifting you up.

"ale!" you laughed as she set you down on her lap, long legs stretched out straight as you wiggled a little to get comfortable. "my turn first please." the girl spoke in her accented english, her hands moving around you and placing themselves on your knees.

"oh your turn?" you asked both equally pleased and surprised, turning a little so you could look up at her. "sí, mi novia so my turn." alexia smiled softly, ducking her head to press a lingering kiss against your lips.

you smiled as you pulled away, a hand softly carressing her cheek as your thumb pulled at her bottom lip, pressing another tender kiss against them with a lovesick sigh.

"of course mi amor whatever you want. so, what colour?"

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

811 notes · View notes

love-bitesx · 10 months

Text

was booking myself a new tattoo and this is all i could think of ! this is just brainrot ramble

: ̗̀➛ hobie brown x gn!reader - giving him tattoos (and yourself)

thinking about giving hobie sweet little tattoos with a makeshift stick and poke set up. he'd come home drunk one night, slurring his words and holding you close to him, ranting about how he wants you to give him a tattoo (and something about not wanting to pay big corporations for a real tattoo gun). even if you’re not creative, he just wants to be able to look at his skin and see evidence of you, always. you refuse him at the time, telling him he's too drunk and he'll regret it. but when it's the next day, and he's stone cold sober, you walk in on him hunched over the kitchen table, making a little stick and poke creation.

so, it’s late at night, he’s sprawled out across your bed like it was his, his head and shoulders pressed into the headboard, eyes trained on you. straddling his lap, you held his arm up to the lamp, tongue stuck out in concentration. hobie winced everytime the needle met his skin, his free hand gripping at your thigh to outlet the pain. when you're done, and he's all cleaned up, he's lit up with pride, constantly checking his arm in different lights to see your design. "it's perfect, darlin'," he mutters, his lips pressed to your forehead.

he’d very rarely ever wear sleeves again after that, always having your design on show to remind him of you when he’s away. not that he needed it, you always had a comfortable seat in the front of his mind. he’d show it off to his friends, though, all the time.

"oi, pav!" he'd call out to his friend, drawing his attention over to his exposed skin.

"you got a tattoo!" pav would exclaim, hopping over and inspecting it closely.

“my partner did it,” he couldn’t mask the grin from fuzzing his cheeks, “fuckin' sick, right?”

his heart wasn't even prepared for what he'd come home to that night. when he'd climb in through your window, shedding his spider-apparel and kicking his boots off by your dresser, he'd notice your sleeping form. smiling to himself, picking up the sheets and climbing into the empty space, careful not to startle you – not that it would, you were more used to waking up beside him than alone.

his hands wouldn't be able to stop themselves from touching you, needing to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, and beaming at the sleepy sound of his name leaving your lips. when his hands find your hip, however, you jump and groan in pain. he'd pull you to him.

"'the fuck 'appened?" he'd whisper, careful not to touch the area again, but be confused at your reaction.

"tattoo," is all he could catch, through your tired, and possibly pained, groans.

"you what?" he'd mutter, and lift the covers back, hiking up your his t-shirt to expose a tiny black design, sitting on the skin above your hip bone.

etched into you was a tiny spider, hand drawn and adorned with little spikes, similar to his persona. he'd be so taken aback, he wouldn't even know what to say.

"'s'this for me, sweetheart?" his fingers would very lightly ghost the dark outlines, honing into your body's reaction to it, steering clear of the painful areas. he's close to you, very close, and you can feel his heart pounding against his chest.

"mhmm," you moan, your brain finally pulling itself from slumber, warm in the smell of him, tangling your arms around his neck, "all for you."

"fuckin' ell," he breathed before kissing you with such a passion you'd never felt from him before. he was drowning in you, head buzzed at the thought of something of him being on your skin forever, and you on his. heart pouring, he reached for you in every way he could.

he'd be obsessed with both of the tattoos, strongly encouraging you to never ever wear anything high-waisted again, so long as he steered away from sleeves. pride and happiness overtook him when he'd see you with other people, in public or with friends, and see the black ink peek through your clothes, knowing that it was for him, and nobody else.

he just loved you a lot, and he adores the permanent reminders.

1K notes · View notes

writerpetals · 6 months

Text

view from 4-B | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

w; exhibitionism, voyeurism, pillow humping, unprotected sex that is just a fantasy that i hope you find as hot as i did when i wrote this hehe finally had time to edit and repost this story ;_;

He never realized you knew he was there when he watched you. As if you would have left your bedroom blinds open, lights on and shining bright, for any other reason. As if you hadn’t been attracted to him the first day you saw him moving into the apartment building next to yours. As if you were trying to hide from all the nights you touched yourself, blinds open, lights on, naked on the bed hidden only behind an expression full of pleasure that heightened when you knew he could see.

The first night was nothing more than a test. You spotted him in his apartment, the warm glow of a lamp in the living room illuminating him. When you flicked your lights on, out of the corner of your eye you saw his gaze shift towards you as he paused.

Perfect.

You turned your lights off after closing your blinds a moment later, knowing he knew you were there and allowing him to realize he had the perfect view. The buildings were close enough to only have him as an audience thanks to being on the top floor, yet not too close to where a simple glance or shift of your eyes would tell him you knew he was spying.

Two nights later you left your lights on for longer. You could feel his eyes on your body as you undressed. You didn’t have to glance at him to know he was studying every curve of your skin as you peeled your shirt over your head, followed by the yoga shorts you went running in just minutes before. You didn’t need to look his way to know his eyes were glued to you as you turned your back to him before unhooking your bra, and then making your way to the adjoined bathroom to take a shower.

The light in his living room was turned off by the time you came out of the steaming bathroom, towel wrapped around your body and disappointment in your face when you noticed his blinds shut. Maybe he felt guilty, or maybe he was turning down the temptation.

It didn’t take long to gain his full interest a week later. The first night you decided to walk around your room completely bare was the night he didn’t close his blinds. A quick turn of your head to see his eyes on you was enough to encourage you to go all the way. You seemed unsuspecting, and he should have given you enough credit to know you could tell he was watching, but you liked the rush of him thinking he was getting away with it.

You laid down on your bed, back against the mattress, slipping a hand between your thighs. He could only see your breasts thanks to a hiked knee covering everything else, but they were fully exposed as you toyed with your hardening nipples and it was enough to have you reaching your peak in no time. Having him watch you get off had your entire body tingling when you thought about it the next day. You couldn’t convince yourself you wouldn’t try again, and you couldn’t talk yourself out of going further while giving him a full show.

That was when you decided you would do something a little riskier the next time around. Fully bare once again, blinds open, you began teasing yourself as you sat on your knees on the bed. You already knew he was focused on you. It was as if he wasn’t hiding it anymore, but you didn’t look his way regardless.

Your hands ran over your breasts, pinching and pulling your nipples until your head lolled back and your jaw slacked. You went farther, dipping a hand between your thighs to find yourself already wet from putting on your show. You wished he could hear your moans with your fingertips pressed to your clit, rubbing slow circles to get you warmed up enough. More than that, you wished you could hear the noises he would make, as well as have his hands on your body, fingers between your thighs to pleasure you.

You knew you had to be patient, dismissing the idea for another time once you removed your hands from your body, instead reaching for a pillow near the headboard. You quickly folded it in half while casually glancing his way as you brushed loose strands of hair from your face to seem oblivious, with your eyes half-lidded. You could only guess what was running through his mind when you placed the pillow between your legs, pressing down to feel the cool silk against your warm folds.

You couldn’t help but to moan when you began moving your hips, hoping he was watching closely, hoping he would think about it later when he was alone and touching himself. You tossed your head back, getting lost in the moment, grinding your clit against the red, silk pillowcase while imagining him in your mind doing unspeakable things to your body. Your hands ran along your torso, finding your breasts to squeeze and caress, with your hips moving faster each second, whimpers of his name spilling from your lips.

When the pleasure started to swell between your thighs, your whimpers and moans fell short, replaced by gasps of air until you were overwhelmed with bliss. Your hips started to slow, thighs tightening around the pillow, toes curling, jaw slacking, until your body bent forward, palms pressing against the mattress to ease yourself to the bed.

You laid there limp, a sheen of sweat glistening over your skin, knowing he had watched every second of it, knowing you wouldn’t have come half as hard if he hadn’t. His eyes on you were the only thing getting you off lately, and sometimes you were tempted to walk over to his apartment and thank him for it.

However, the next day when you’re a minute away from heading out of your apartment for a run, a sudden, urgent knock on your door has you pausing while putting your buds in your ear. Instead, you set your things against the coffee table to make your way through the kitchen to answer the knocks.

“Um, hi.”

Hearing his voice for the first time, already half knowing it was him before you answered the door, sent goosebumps spreading across your skin. It was deeper than you imagined, yet his tone softer, almost as if he was incredibly nervous, or shy. Of course it couldn’t be hard to pint point the exact apartment you live in considering all the time he’s spent so far watching you. The apartment buildings aren’t that big to begin with.

“Hi…” You tilt your head, flashing him a confused look with your brows creased. You know why he is there, and the reason has your heart racing.

“I’m, uh,” he stutter, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, eyes falling to his feet as he tells you his name.

You already knew that thanks to one of his friends yelling his name from across the street on the day he moved in. You nod, trying to hide your smirk when you realize he actually is a nervous, stuttering, gulping mess before you, telling him your name in return.

“Can I help you with something?” He bites his lip at the sound of you repeating his name, causing warmth to surge between your thighs. He doesn’t even realize how much power you have over him already, feigning innocence before him with a curious tone and clueless expression.

“I just wanted to introduce myself.” He can’t look you in the eyes as he shifts his weight from foot to foot before you, with your head still tilted to one side, looking up at him with a grin, arms folded just beneath your breasts. “Sorry, I see you were about to head out. I should go.”

You don’t stop him. Instead, your grin widens, before watching him turn to head down the hall. “If you do need something,” you begin, making him stop in his tracks for a glance over his shoulder, “don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Hidden meanings drip from every word, and from the way he inhales a sharp breath before nodding, you know he realizes he is in over his head.

You don’t leave your blinds open for his viewing pleasure that night. You know once you have him hooked he will be yours to play with for as long as you want. You just need him to realize what a deliciously sinful thing he has, and without the view of you naked and pleasuring yourself he will either go crazy, or finally act on his desires.

A few nights pass, but you don’t worry. You keep the view blocked by shades and dim lights when you touch yourself, thinking of all the things you are going to do to him when he finally sees how much he wants you. Even if the pleasure isn't as great when he doesn't watch, you have to be patient as well.

It takes three whole nights of failing to offer him the view for him to come knocking on your door mid-afternoon, causing you to answer after you have just got out of the shower.

You greet him after a few light knocks on your door, hair wrapped in a towel and a robe wrapped around your body. “Hi.” You can't stop your cheeks from flushing at the sight of him.

Finally getting to see him before you, cap on backwards keeping his hair from his eyes, a shy grin on his lips, a loose fitting, gray tank not hiding his delicious looking collarbones, and even baggier gym shorts, has its affect on you. It doesn't take you long to realize he isn't the only one suffering without a view. You have gone four days without seeing him in his apartment as well with barely any clothes on, sweating, panting while doing some form of work out, carding his fingers through his damp hair. You would be lying if you said you didn't miss it.

“Hey,” he exhales his half-embarrassed hello, rubbing the back of his neck just like he did the previous time. Except now he has a paper plate with foil securing its contents in the other hand. “I, um, brought you something.” He has a hard time keeping his eyes on yours, every second more and more tempted to take in the sight of you standing before him in nothing but a bathrobe.

You can't contain a giggle. “You did?” You eagerly reach for his gift as he hands you the plate, peeling back the crumpled foil to reveal tasty looking treats. “Lemon squares?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles as if he immediately regrets the decision. His cheeks flush once he continues. “I have a friend that likes to cook, and well, I just wanted to bring you something since I just moved in across the street. One apartment building over.”

Your brows crease at his words. “Wouldn't your actual neighbors be better suited for this?” You giggle, letting him think he was being smooth when you already knew when and where he moved in, along with his perfect view of your bedroom. “And aren't they the ones that should be giving you a housewarming gift?”

“Yeah, it was a stupid idea.” He lowers his voice as well as his head. “Sorry.”

“No!” You nearly shout when he begins to turn away from you. “It's sweet. Thank you.” You aren’t lying. It’s hard to ignore the flutter in your chest at his adorable gesture. Even if you both know he’s only looking for any little excuse to stop by.

“No problem.” His grin is so boyish and bashful, causing the warmth to swell between your thighs at just how shy this man is.

“Do you want to come in?” In all his blushing and in all of your playing oblivious, you forgot to be polite enough to invite him in, stepping to the side a second after you ask.

“Oh, I wasn’t interrupting anything?” His gaze finally lowers down your body, unashamed for the first time and getting an eyeful of your fresh-out-of-the-shower attire.

“Nope,” you assure him, grinning as he walks past you before shutting the door behind him. You peel the towel from your head, trying to regain some of your image and not look so ridiculous, even though he has seen you completely bare and vulnerable time and time again. “So…” His name lingers on your lips in drawn out syllables as he takes a seat on a barstool, situating himself with his elbows propped up on the island counter in your kitchen.

“Hm?” You have his full attention while you grab a lemon square from the plate, slowly taking a bite as you stand on the opposite side of the counter. The way his eyes widened and lips part have you stifling your giggle as you chew the treat and lick your lips once you swallow.

“Please tell your friend he bakes well.” After a second, he nods, your words pulling him of the daydreams you only imagine him having as he stares at you. “So, how are you liking the view?” The question, while innocent in nature, has too much hidden meaning within each word, causing him to gulp, blink repeatedly, and mumble while shrugging his shoulders.

“Th-the v-view?” You can practically hear his heart hammering away inside his chest, thinking you are asking about the perfect view into your bedroom, but when you nod, lips pursed, and hum an “mhm”, his tense body relaxes just a little.

“That apartment building has a killer view of the city, if you’re lucky enough to snag yourself a room good enough.” You lean forward, arms beneath your breasts, elbows against the counter as you speak, not caring if your robe just so happens to fall open enough to get a better view of your cleavage. Watching him nearly squirm in his seat was more satisfaction than you needed.

“Oh, um,” he hesitates, running a hand over the nape of his neck, “my apartment is on the opposite side. Right across… from… you.” It was clear he caught himself mid-sentence, spilling away his dirty secrets, letting you know he has a better view than the city, but you only nod, not showing signs of any hints that you had caught on to what he was implying.

“Oh, too bad you don't have a nice view then.” His awkward, shy grin on his lips tells you he assums you haven't a clue. “Listen, I have to get ready for my shift at work. It was nice seeing you.”

With that, he is already nervously slipping from his seat at the counter. “Sure, me too.” His hand brushes over the back of his neck once again, realizing you find his shy habits adorable.

“Thanks for the gift,” you chuckle as you walk him out, pulling the door to you before he steps into the hallway, watching him nod while lingering for a moment. “Oh, hey?” You call his name one last time, watching him perk up, brows raised, eyes wide.

“Yes?” You can't help the way your lips curl in a grin, knowing how you have teased him, feigning innocence the entire time while dropping subtle hint after hint about him watching you.

“I'll see you later.”

The exhausting shift at your job has taken its toll on your body, proving that being on your feet all night serving tables left you with nothing but achy legs, sore feet, and heavy steps as you make your way to your shower. The warm water cascading down your body relaxes you enough to ease the pains in your muscles, and when you step out to wrap nothing more than a towel around your body, you are all ready to snuggle up in bed.

However, after his visit earlier in the day, you know he won’t remain patient for long, causing you to make sure to pull the chain to your blinds once you make it to your bedroom, the vertical panels opening up to allow you to set your eyes on that neighbor of yours in his living room. The lights offer a warm glow against his skin as you take in the sight of him bare chested, hair messily combed back, sweat pants hanging loose from his hips, and an intense focus in his eyes as he works out. The way your heart flutters in your chest only tells you how much you missed the sight.

You linger near the window a moment, not realizing you are biting down on your bottom lip, teeth sinking into skin while watching him move, his body coming up and down with crunches, his eyes lower, wanting to hear the music you know he’s listening to to have him so in the zone. Wanting to be in the same room as him, hearing his heavy breaths and pants, wanting him to be there just for you.

Lost in thoughts of what he could do, you barely notice his gaze shift towards your window like it has so many nights before. You barely notice his eyes grow wide and the way his hand lowers to the bulge forming in his pants at the sight of you, obvious thoughts of previous nights watching you entering his mind.

Except unlike other nights, you don’t look away, or seem oblivious to his gaze. You meet his eyes staring into yours, biting on your bottom lip and blinking just a few times to seem innocent enough. You watch his lips part, taking in the moment to understand you are now completely aware he has a perfect view of your bedroom, and you are aware he has been watching you all those lonely nights while leaving your blinds open just for him.

But it was all a part of the plan, and with a smirk forming on your lips as you stare into his living room, your brows arch, awaiting his reaction. He rises and steps closer to the window after reaching for a remote to mute his stereo he had obviously working out to, hand returning to the bulge in his pants as he licks his lips.

No longer are there secrets or feigning innocence. Everything is out in the open as the two of you stare at one another, and you decide to take it a step further by reaching to unravel the towel so tightly secured around your body. The white cloth pools around your ankles, giving him the perfect view of what he has no doubt been missing the past few nights.

You can’t ignore the rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, or deny how much you love the way he licks his lips once more, hand caressing his length through his pants. It only encourages you to finally step away from the window to make your way towards the bed, carefully and slowly crawling with your knees pressed to the sheets until he has a perfect view of what is between your thighs.

You bend over, hand slipping between your legs with your head turning to glance at him over your shoulders, noticing him watching ever so intently as you stroke your folds back and forth. Your fingers find your clit, stroking small circles over your flesh to give him the show he has been so desperately looking for. Giving him the invitation to take what he wants, with your hips rocking against your hand as your fingers quicken in pace. Begging him without words to go to you and finish what you have started.

The single flip of a light switch turning off breaks your concentration, stopping all motions to turn with fluttering lids and look into his window, only to see him no longer standing there. His apartment has gone pitch black. He has left.

And you know heis on his way over to you at that very moment.

The urgent knocks against your door has your already racing heart skipping a beat. Your fingers tremble as you grab your robe, slowly securing it around your body while hesitant footsteps carry you to the sound.

His lips are on yours the second you pull the door open. Desperate hands reach for you, arms wrapping around your body to pull you in close and you can't deny him in the slightest. You have been waiting for the moment to feel his lips against yours, feel his body melting into your body, and feel his heart pounding in his chest as he backs you away from the door toward your bedroom.

“So,” he says, pulling away as breathless as ever with his swollen lips nearly quivering, “it was all a game to you the entire time?” His realization is taking its toll on him, with everything clicking at once and his tone tells you he wants to be angry, if only he wasn't so eager to have you.

“I-” You try to explain, to say something, anything, but his lips meeting yours once again cuts off your words just as fast as you started. His grip is tight against your waist as he guides you farther into the room, sloppy kisses trailing from your mouth down to your jaw before settling against your neck.

“You were fucking toying with me,” he growls, earning a grunt when your back finally comes in contact with the frigid surface of your bedroom window, “that whole time.”

You whimper his name, but you have no excuse and no strength to argue with him even if you did. The way his hands lower from your waist to your thighs to hoist your body up against the window’s ledge has you trembling. The way his tongue teases your skin before his teeth nip at the sensitive flesh has the room spinning. And it only adds to the blissful torture when his hands harshly spread your legs, inviting himself between them to press his painfully hard cock against your bare center.

“Since you enjoy games so much,” he begins, tugging at the flimsy string holding your robe closed, “why don't I fuck you right here where everyone can see? Right in front of this window… isn’t that what gets you off, baby?” The moment your robe falls open to uncover your body, his hands are on you. Palms caress your skin, cupping your breasts before his thumbs tease your erect, sensitive nipples with a simple brush of contact, rendering you speechless.

Not that it matters when he presses his mouth to yours, silencing any protests you never had in the first place before his tongue skims over the delicate flesh of your bottom lip. You invite him in a second later, feeling him massage your tongue ever so carefully in contrast to the way his hands so desperately begin to touch your body. His breaths are hot and heavy against your skin as he pushes the robe from your shoulders, once again exposed and vulnerable for him just like so many nights before, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Do it, then,” you challenge him in a gasp after pulling away, eyes locking with his darkened expression to see the amount of lust filling him, “fuck me.”

And he takes the challenge, groaning at your words just before he grips the neck of his t-shirt to pull over his head, tossing it aside a second before he reaches for your hips to pull you from the ledge. In an instant you’re being turned around, ass toward him and your chest pressing to the cold glass window, a gasp filling the small space to leave a foggy remnant of your heavy breaths against its surface as his hands lower.

Fingers skimmed over the soft skin of your ass as you push your hips out for him, inviting him with a whimper of his name to do as he wishes. Another groan slips from his lips just before a single hand dips between your thighs, fingertips brushing over the hot and sensitive folds to have you quivering against the window.

“Do you know how many nights,” he begins, feeling his fingers circle your soaked entrance as he speaks, causing you to want nothing more than to push down onto the digits, “how many nights I watched you, thinking it was wrong yet not being able to stop myself?”

You whine his name, more breathless than ever before as you attempt to roll your hips against his hand, “please.” But a tight grip against your hip from his other hand keeps you standing in place, suffering the teasing of his fingers barely entering you before pulling away.

“Do you know how many nights I had to go to bed thinking of you, touching myself while fantasizing of all the things I wanted to do to you?” The question has you quivering, knowing that’s exactly what you wanted when you first decided to give him your little show, knowing the teasing you would have to endure just the same was nothing less than deserved.

His fingers soon trail from your entrance to slip higher over your slit, caressing over your folds against the sides of your throbbing, aching clit, but not daring to touch just yet. A breathless moan leaves your lips, wanting him to desperately to touch where you need it the most, but his motions remain the same as he teases your slick center after toying with your clit, wishing that any second you would feel him enter you, feeling him offer release against the ever so sensitive bud, or finally give you his cock above all else.

You are seconds away from pleading for what you need when his hand finally slips back to ease two fingers deep within you without warning, causing you to latch onto the window’s edge to brace yourself, feeling the digits begin to pump in and out of your tightening walls. He groans at feeling your arousal drip from your core to coat his fingers, loving how eager your body is for him, loving how your hips rock back against his hand and loving the noises you make just for him.

But you need more, the teasing beforehand too much to bear as you attempt to ease your own hand between your thighs to relieve yourself of the ache, but he is quick to take a firm hold on your wrist as he reaches around with his free hand. Fingers continue to pump in and out of your walls at a slow pace just as he pins your wrist against the window, causing you to whimper his name again and again. You need release as you push your hips onto his fingers, gasping as the digits enter you deeper and causing you to clench as you pull away, only to repeat the process over and over.

He seems to enjoy you fucking yourself against his fingers, only earning groans in response from behind filling deep in his chest at the sight of you slipping up and down, arousal dripping over his skin more and more the harder your press your hips to him. His grip on your wrist becomes a blissful sting of pain and pleasure as his fingers wrap tighter against your skin to keep you in place, the nails of your other hand clawing at the windowsill with nothing but whimpers and moans leaving your lips.

“Please...” So breathlessly you beg him, wanting to feel him inside of you, wanting him to rid your body of the tension, of the ache between your legs reaching out to every limb.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he orders, breath deep and raspy and strained against your ear, fingers pumping harshly in and out of you to earn every last whimper of his name that leaves your lips, “and I’ll give it to you.”

“Please,” you gasp, overwhelmed with the sudden force of his hand between your legs and the pleasure that courses through your entire being, “I w-want to feel y-you. I want to feel you-your cock.”

He has no intention of protesting as he pulls his fingers from within you, and instead wraps an arm around your waist to quickly guide you to your bed that was just behind the both of you. Your back hits the softness of the mattress with a bounce, earning another whimper as you watch him push his sweatpants to the floor before he climbs between your legs to meet your body on the bed.

Desperately his lips crash into yours, feeling his hardness press to your soaked slit, feeling his body mold into yours as he pushes his hips against you just to tease once again. You nibble against his bottom lip, tugging lightly with your teeth to hear a groan hit your ears in return and to feel his cock press against your center as you buck your hips to slip up and down his length.

Suddenly, he grabs both of your wrists to pull your grip from his bare shoulders, instead pinning your arms above your head while flashing a wicked smirk across his lips. You want to whine, to beg and plead but the sight of him biting his bottom lip, eyes full of desire and lust as he peers down at you, leaves you so absolutely speechless, breathless even, that all you can do is lay beneath him trembling in anticipation.

“Patience, baby,” he says, one hand still pinning both of your wrists above your head, the other taking a firm grip of his cock to ease the tip over your folds. Your legs threaten to clasp together as they twitch, if only his thighs beneath them didn’t have them spread so far as he leans in, pushing just the head of his cock against your dripping entrance to have you gasping his name.

Then he pulls away, torturing you further as you wiggle your hips beneath him, begging without words for what you want most. He presses against you once more, pushing his cock into you slowly, taking his time to have you so worked up beyond belief, pleading with a whimper of his name.

“You’re so wet, baby.” His deep chuckle against your skin only taunts you, mouth skimming over the flesh of your neck as your head lolls back, enduring every moment of teasing with the tip of his cock pushing against you only to pull away a moment later to leave you empty. “You’re dripping, just for me, baby.” He kisses your neck as you gulp down the words you don’t have the strength to release regardless, lips so soft and tender against your skin to drive you wild.

And when you can barely stand anymore, becoming a quivering mess beneath him, he finally enters you, slowly, gently, pushing his hips against your body and thrusting his cock deep within your tightening walls, earning a gasp with your eyes shutting tight and your mouth falling open.

“Oh my G-god.” You can barely speak, barely form words or even think as he fills you up, only to call out his name once again when he pulls out, pulls away and with a twitch of his hips he thrusts back into you all over again.

“Harder,” you instruct him, so breathless once again, “faster.” Your voice grows too hoarse to speak, but he listens to your words. He listens to your body, the way you tighten around his length when he enters you. The way you moan and curse and huff anytime he thrusts just right to have your legs drawing up to his sides, still trembling, shaking, nearly giving out because the pleasure, the pressure from his hips, becomes too much to bear.

Thoughts of getting caught, of fucking with curtains drawn knowing anyone could see if they looked hard enough, leaves both of your minds. Neither of you care when you are so wrapped up in one another. With you loving the way he loses control and with him loving every moment of feeling your body react to him.

Your release approaches quickly, back arching from the bed, nails digging into the palms of your hands still pinned to the sheets, legs wrapped tight around his waist, taking every long, deep thrust of his cock within you until a final gasp spilled from your lips as the pleasure coursed through you.

He abruptly releases your hands, allowing you to grab on tight to his shoulders, nails clawing skin as he takes hold of your hips, keeping you in place while ruthlessly thrusting in and out through your bliss that swelled from your center to every inch of your body. His fingers press harder, drawing out every breathless moan, every strained whimper, every gasp of his name until your body grows too limp, too weak, with limbs slacking at your sides.

But he is far from done, slowing his hips to hit deep within your walls with aggressive thrusts, bringing his own peak closer and closer as you whine from the overwhelming sensation, too sensitive, too far gone to handle much more, shuddering with every push of his cock within you. Your mind grows numb, the sounds of his groans drowning out around you until he suddenly pulls away.

You watch through fluttering lids as he grips himself in his hand, pumping his length a few times before releasing over you, strings of white coating the flesh of your stomach as he bites his lip, heavy breaths filling the room seconds before his body slumps beside you.

A few moments of catching your breaths, collecting yourselves, and gathering strength leads him to ease off your bed, reaching for his sweatpants to cover himself before making his way to your bathroom, only to return with a towel to rid you of any mess. You can’t help but to giggle tiredly as he takes care of you, bliss still filling you up even though the pleasure is over.

“So,” you begin, leaning up as he tosses the towel to the side, “are you really upset with me?” You bat your lashes as you recall his anger within his lust when he first entered your apartment, earning a chuckle from him before he turn to grab your discarded robe from the floor, but not before he tugs on the chain at your window, pulling the curtains to a close. You cock your head to the side, questioning his silence while sporting a curious expression, raising your arms as he covers your body before tying the knot to keep the silk material secure around you.

“I wanted to be,” he finally answers with an exhale, “but I have to say, it was well played.” A smirk appears over his lips a second later, causing you to giggle once again before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead.

“You can’t deny the end result was better than expected.” You shrug carelessly, noticing him lick his lips as he pulls you from the bed with a palm against yours. Eyes scan up and down your body, as if he was in thought over the remark even though the grin he flashed is more than convincing.

“I can’t deny that at all,” he tells you honestly. “But next time…”

“Hm?” You perk up as his words fade, curiosity filling you once again.

“Next time,” he sighs, placing his thumb beneath your chin to cause you to look into his eyes, “I want you to ride me, just like you liked to tease me while riding that pillow.”

Words couldn’t describe the amount of embarrassment that floods you, becoming flustered as you look away, grinning, knowing he hasn’t forgotten the very thing that brought him over in the first place.

“Who said there would be a next time?” you tease, finally meeting his gaze to notice his smirk disappear in an instant. Then he leans in, pressing his lips ever so softly to yours to have you melting right where you stand, careful hands holding your body close to his to feel his warmth.

And when he pulls away, a hint of his grin returns when he finally answers with a simple, “I did.”

1K notes · View notes