#of fucking COURSE I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand I think you can reach mine. whatever.
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thinking about leonard “I fall in love all the time I feel my heart going out 100 times a day” cohen and marianne “when my eyes met his, I felt it throughout my body” ihlen. OK gonna go tear my hair out now
#of fucking COURSE I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand I think you can reach mine. whatever.#sure grandma lets get you to bed-ing myself#leonard cohen
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Title: Intoxicated.
Pairing: Yandere!Fae King x Reader (OC).
Word Count: 1.0k.
TW: Non/Con -> Dub/Con, AFAB!Reader, Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, Orgasm Denial, and Obsessive Behavior.
[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]
His chambers reeked of honey and lavender.
A stark improvement when compared to the raw stench of sweating bodies and animal fervor that’d hung over the celebrations still raging on in his banquet hall, but strong thick enough to turn your stomach, still choking enough to leave your head spinning, your vision distorted and dark around the edges. A thick, lilac smoke clouded the air, courtesy of the herbs smoldering in jars of stained glass on a nearby windowsill – only adding to your current haziness. It went without saying that none of it, of course, was aided by the clever, slender fingers slowly drawing lazy circles into your clit, the stimulation too much to block out entirely but not nearly enough to bring you any real satisfaction. It was hard to be frustrated, though, when you considered who that stimulation was coming from.
Aisling had positioned himself behind you, propped against the ornate headboard of his almost comically oversized bed. Two long, hoofed legs stretched out on either side of you – flecks of golden pollen still dusted over his dark fur. His chest was bear and cool where it pressed into your back, and his unoccupied hand alternated between wrapping snuggly around your midriff and prying your thighs apart when they attempted in-vain to shut. His touch, like most other things about him, left much to be desired. You’d lost track of how long you’d spent here, how much time had passed since he carried you out of those wretched rituals his kind called revelries, but couldn’t have been any longer than a few minutes, even if it felt like a small eternity lapsed by every time you let your eyes droop shut. He prided himself on his adeptness in all things frivolous and pleasurable, and you couldn’t imagine him taking this long to bring you to climax.
“I’ve grown quite fond of your meekness, you know.” His voice was a deep rumble, less a string of words and more a prolonged, inflected purr. Cold lips ghosted over the curve of your ear, and his fingers found a new pattern; one with enough force behind to it make your head lull forward, a slight whimper slipping past your grit teeth as the loose knot in your core began to tighten. “At first, it was rather irking to realize I would never be able to make love to you under the light of the full moon to the accompaniment of my finest bards, but I think I’ve come to like how—” A quirk of his wrist, a strange crescent-like motion. You withered against him, your hips bucking stiltedly into his hand. “—reserved your kin tend to be. It feels more intimate, locking ourselves away like this. Like we share a common secret.”
That fucking smell. The sickening sweetness of it seemed to claw and tear at your lungs, to lodge itself in the hollows of your skull and send a warm, steady pulsing down the length of your spine with every slight movement of Aisling’s fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, your hands kneading at the silk of his sheets as the knot sitting in your core coiled ever-tighter, as you came so, so close to that—
As Aisling pulled away, his touch skirting over the inside of your thigh before forcing two fingers into the dripping entrance of your cunt. You couldn’t bite back the fractured whine that bubbled past your lips, arching your back as he spread and curled his digits inside of you. “Still,” he went on, sighing in mock-disappointment. “I feel like our relationship has been far from reciprocal, as of late. I do adore taking care of you, and I don’t mean to sound unthankful, but—” Another pause, another sigh. “I am beloved to all folks of the land and air, worshiped by the valleys and mountains alike, and dearest to all beings with the wisdom necessary to appreciate true beauty. Why is it that the one I cherish most so evidently detests my very existence?”
“Be—” A broken moan cut you off, draw out by a particular scissoring motion of his fingers. It was a fight to find your voice again. “Because you’re a fucking prick.”
“Your honeyed praises will have to wait, for now.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, but the friction was too soft, too half-hearted to do anything. His lilac smoke seemed to claw its way down your throat and dislodge a pathetic string of whimpers and mewls, filling the new vacancy with a sort of… a sort of liquid heat, strong enough to leave you panting and hot enough to have you squirming against him, eager to get that much closer to his frigid body. Your desperation earned a melodic laugh from Aisling, a tender nuzzling of his cheek against yours. “Oh? Do you have something you’d like to ask for, little fawn?”
He forced a third finger into your terribly empty cunt, and something inside of you seemed to break open. “Please, Aisling, I—” You paused, gasped as his fingers curved against the clenching walls of your pussy. “I need to cum. I can’t take another—”
Whatever you might’ve said dissolved into a broken, pained moan as he drew back entirely, his slick-stained hand moving to your chin and tilting your head back, his lips finding your own before your shock could fade into hurt. Pointed, cat-like fangs burrowed into your bottom lip as his rough tongue laved over your own, the gesture less of a kiss and more of an attempt to permanently attach a part of him to a part of you. His taste was one of fresh fruit and sugared cream, and by the time he pulled away, you were panting, heaving, clambering to stay as close as him as you possibly could, to get as much from him as you possible could. Aisling only laughed as you rushed to straddle him, taking your face in both hands and pulling you into another long, lingering kiss – his mouth just as sweet as his poisons.
“Such a beautiful song,” he muttered, pulling back far enough to speak, but not leaving quite enough distance to disguise the crooked smile spread across his lips.
“Perhaps, by the time we’re finished, you’ll love me enough to deserve to.”
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere oc#yandere fae#yandere monster#yandere oneshot
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Can you write Miles 42 where you do that one TikTok prank on him where someone keeps texting you and he gets mad and stuff and tries to look at your phone 😭
Give me the Phone.
E42!Miles x Fem!Reader
“Not gon’ say nothin’, chiquita?”
i’m gonna be real i have no clue what that trend is but the idea was adorbs 🤭
The decision to mess with him, in hindsight, may have been stupid.
But you just couldn’t help it.
So you hit record, and your friend, Anita, started bombarding you with texts, in on the bit.
It was so fun just to toy with him every now and then, get him riled up. A little angry, it was all in good fun. So it didn’t really matter in the long run, he always forgave you.
And the way he would eye you from across the room, as you giggled and smiled at your phone—.
Was pretty much worth it.
He was unable to do anything about it though, with everyone else around. Of course, you’d decided to mess with him in front of his family. When you couldn’t be called out.
His Mom and Uncle were barely two feet away from him, talking amongst themselves and occasionally addressing someone else at the inconveniently timed family gathering.
He watched you snort again as you glanced at the message, quickly smirking at the mystery-person’s notif.
No one is so eager to text with a friend. No one giggles and smiles when talking through text.
You don’t giggle at texts.
Miles leans back from his seat on the couch opposite to you, coffee table between the two of you. He drapes a hand over his knee and watches as your eyes trail him up.
He tips his head back and sighs, glaring at you from under his eyelashes. Your posture straightens and you eye his Adams apple before your screen flashes again, and your attention is gone.
This goes on for around another eight minutes before he loses his mind. He groans, checking the faces around you both to see no one in his belated family paying either of you attention.
Slowly, he gets up. Stretching to his full height and glowering down at you. You glance up at him innocently, another small smirk settled on your lips and he huffs a quick breath.
Miles rolls the joints in his neck and you can’t help but observe the way his tense posture makes him look ever-more menacing. A jolt of attraction shocking your spine.
The way his smirk curved his soft lips up,how his sunken eyes glowed threateningly on an up-cast light.
“C’mon, Mami.”
“Hmm?”
“Get up.”
He side stepped the table, being close to you now, his height towering over you from your sat position.
You sheltered the phone screen, making sure he couldn’t see you record.
“I’m busy—,”
“Now, Chiquita.”
“You can’t make me.”
The way you pouted up at him drove him mad, your eyebrows furrowing in defiance and your tone lifting.
"Bueno, entonces hagamos la cuenta regresiva."
You rolled your eyes, “Oh my god Miles! I’m not a kid.” You placed your phone face down beside you on the couch. He hummed.
Lowly, under his breath he spoke, “Three.”
“Fuck—, whatever fine. I’m up.” You roll your eyes, and push yourself up, grabbing your phone as you went.
“Talk t’me like a damn child.”
“‘S cause ya’ actin’ like a damn child.”
“Am not.”
He paused, dropping his face deadpan, and you snorted at the irony.
“See?”
“Whatever, loser. You’re just jealous i’m more fun.”
“Not what I’m jealous about.”
He slipped his palm over yours, linking your fingers with his. A few of his family members glanced your way, and you shifted in embarrassment before they looked away, paying you no mind.
Miles dragged you along with him, politely excusing himself, and you, from people who approached and made his way to his room. You following begrudgingly behind him.
He opened the door with a grip too tight, swung it open and clambered you both inside, before letting go of your hand and slowly shutting the door behind you both. Placing the key in the lock, twisting but not taking it out.
Never the type of man to trap you, or intimidate — you kind of felt bad for messing with him.
His back still to you, you let your knees hit the bed before sitting on the ledge, hands folded neatly in your lap and phone under them, shielding the screen.
Miles cracked his neck, muscles going taught before relaxing again as he turned. Eyes catching your own with a certain glee in them that felt more challenging than happy.
“Wanna ‘xplain yourself, mami?”
You huffed, only watching and pouting as he approached. Crossing your arms over your chest, and griping your forearms.
Unknowingly leaving your phone vulnerable to the man now much closer to you, just like before. Except now there wasn’t anyone stopping him from fucking with you.
“Not gon’ say nothin’, chiquita?”
Your phone buzzed.
You bit your lip and evaded smiling, smugness coming from the small win.
“Mm.” The low rumble of his voice made your eye flick back to his face, curiosity lacing your features for a spilt moment before you schooled them.
While unfocused on anything but his face, he took the opportunity to swipe your phone right from your lap, reflexes much quicker than yours.
“Hh—, Wait—!“ Your hand outstretched to try and catch the phone from his grip, but he was quicker. Holding the phone up high and placing his other hand over your shoulder so you couldn’t stand to grab it.
“Who the fuck—,” He flipped the screen toward himself, and when all he saw was your camera app open, recording for 13 minutes, and a notification from Anita, his smirk raised. One only of disbelief.
“You kiddin’?”
The camera was fixed on your sat body, and he stopped the recording, clicking Anita’s name and watching the texts appear.
You still there?
Did he find out LMAO
BROOO ARE U GETTING UR ASS BEAT LMFAOAOA
i’ll beat his ass tho fr, fight for u bbg 🫶
sorry in advance pumpkin 👩❤️💋👩
tiktoks gonna luv this
“Anita.”
He let his gaze fall on you, amusement and annoyance dancing with his emotions.
“No..” You pouted, dragging your hands back to your laps and smiling sheepishly.
“Oh my fuckin’ god, [Name].”
“It’s a prank?” Even you sounded unsure.
He snorted and glared at you, pushing you back until your back hit the bed.
“You wan’ make a tiktok? We don’ make one.”
“Wha—“
You heard the record button play before you could speak, and felt your instincts kick in a second too late bfore a pillow hit your face. You spluttered—
—Before clambering up the bed to get a pillow too.
“Oh, Fuck you!”
“Nah, Mami, wrecked your chances.”
You grabbed a pillow and swung back behind you, hitting him square in the face before he snatched it off you with a playfully pissed expression. One hand still holding the phone towards you.
You smirked at him and flipped the camera off. “Eat shit, loser.”
“You’re gonna fuckin’ regret that.”
You squealed and laughed, trying to grab another pillow in time before your ankle was grabbed and dragged down the bed, your laughter following.
You did in fact, regret it.
—
+BONUS!!!
“How’s it feel to fuckin’ lose?”
Miles grinned behind the camera, braids loosened slightly due to the tussling between you two—,
“Die.”
He laughed and ended the recording.
“Y’know I love you?”
You pouted, resisting the need in your fluttering heart to smile up at him.
“Yeah, yeah— whatever, big boy.”
“Good, cause i’m posting that.”
“Morales!”
—
DONE!!! HOPE I DIDNT BUTCHER IT :3
#miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles morales#earth 42 miles morales x reader#miles x reader#spiderverse x reader#miles morales#earth42!miles#earth 42 miles x reader#earth 42 miles fluff#earth 42 miles x you#miles morales x you#miles my beloved#miles g#Miles g x reader#miles morales prowler#prowler morales
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Praise or degrade?
Cw: written by a minor!, praise, degradation, doggy, missionary, P in V sex, fingering, lil bondage one ass slap that’s it
Men who degrade you, they love the way you tighten up around them when they say dirty things to you. Something about treating you like a queen all the time everywhere you go, but then treat you like a slut in bed.
Having your arms cuffed behind your back, and your ass up and face pressed down into the pillows, and behind you he’s ramming into you, dragging his cock in and out of you. “It’s like you were made for this, fucking whore.” Slapping your ass then rubbing your flesh. “You like that? Like being fucked like a slut?” Every thrust his balls slapping against your clit “who am I kidding. Of course you do. That’s all you are, my little cumslut.”
-geto, sukuna, kaeya, dottore, ayato
Men who praise you, they just find you so precious. They would never dream of putting there amazing, gentle lover down. No they want to remind you how beautiful you are, how well you take them.
Your legs are in the air on either side of him, and your hands and fingers interlocked. His slow, deep thrusts match his words, “your so pretty like this.” His cock hitting all the right spots, “your doing so good, princess. Gonna cum for me?” You nod your head. “Go on then, gorgeous. You’ve done so well you deserve it.”
-Nanami, choso, neuvillette, diluc, zhongli
Men who do both, he just can’t get enough of you! He loves the way your body reacts to the words he says, he’s such a tease and gets off on making you all flustered and shy around him. your just too cute, he needs to do both.
He’d be stretching you open with one hand, the other around your neck pulling your face close to his, kissing you. Moaning into the kiss, he’d whisper “your doing so good yea? My pretty little slut taking my fingers so we’ll just like I know she can.” His pace was unforgiving, curving his fingers up into your G-spot, driving you closer to the edge, “gonna cum for me? Make a mess for me baby. Slutty pussy sucking me in so well.”
-Gojo, toji, wriothesley, Al haitham, childe
#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#childe smut#genshin impact#jjk smut#neuvillette smut#wriothesley smut#geto smut#sukuna smut#kaeya smut#dottore smut#ayato smut#nanami smut#choso smut#diluc smut#zhongli smut#gojo smut#toji smut#al haitham smut#tartaglia smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#genshin impact x reader
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Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 5
Bucky Barnes x Reader
**Read part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4 first for the full effect.**
Summary: As the night drags on, Bucky continues helping you through the peak activity of the chemical compound that you were both exposed to.
Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, oral sex, profanity, sex pollen (dubcon), near-somnophilia, dry humping, praise, possessive!Bucky, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Special thanks to @littlemiss-yeehaw for helping with the warnings <3
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires more warnings.
Word Count: 3.6k
Author's Note: I'm living for y'alls reactions to this series over the last few days. Thank you all SOOO much for the continued support and unbelievably kind words. I hope this part does something for you all, hehe. Also, I apologize for any errors you may find. I only proofread it once and I kinda half-assed it. I hate proofreading my own work.
After sleeping the longest stretch so far tonight, you wake up at 2 am with excessively sore legs and a dire need to pee. You debate for a moment whether or not it’s smart to get up, taking into account how unstable you feel as soon as you push the covers back and seat yourself on the edge of the bed. You’re beginning to realize that maybe 75% of your pain and soreness is from the chemical that’s still working in your system, while the other 25% is from having sex with a super soldier. You peek over your shoulder at the man who lays on the other side of the bed, sleeping soundly with his lips parted the tiniest bit. Something stirs deep in the pit of your stomach when you look at him. That’s new. You brush it off as being another onslaught of arousal that you’re going to be experiencing against your will. You lean over and retrieve your panties from the floor, sliding them up your legs silently. You’re sure that they’ll just end up right back on the floor, but with two loads of cum having been thoroughly fucked into you in the last few hours, you don’t want to risk anything dripping down your leg on your trek to the bathroom.
You move slowly, pushing yourself up to a standing position and steadying yourself with a hand on the bedside table before making your way to the door. As you reach the threshold, the pain in your legs intensifies to a much less bearable level and you freeze, your right hand raising up to grip the door frame for support. You just need to make it ten feet down the hall and into the bathroom and you’ll be fine. Of course, it’s not going to go that easily for you. Has anything gone according to plan tonight? No. You hear Bucky stir behind you, the covers rustling as he awakes.
“Where are you going?” His sleepy voice tugs at you, making you look over your shoulder again. He’s propped up on one elbow now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and then narrowing them in your direction.
“I have to pee. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You whisper. Why are you whispering? You’re the only two people in this house and you’re both awake now. Maybe it’s the darkness of the house making you feel like it’s supposed to be quiet hours.
“Why are you holding onto the door frame?” He questions. It takes him less than two seconds to figure out the scene in front of him. He doesn’t know why you have to be so stubborn and insistent on doing shit yourself all the time. You’re no different in the field. Before you can answer him, he’s climbing out of bed and slipping his boxers back on. You close your eyes and sigh, not even needing to look back to know what he’s doing. Suddenly, you feel the warmth radiating off of his body behind you, then his flesh hand lands on your lower back.
“I’m not completely useless, James.” You mutter, letting go of the door frame and taking a step forward. The pain in your thighs makes you feel as though your legs might give out with just that one step. You suck in a harsh breath and freeze for a second time.
“Right.” If you weren’t so focused on keeping your balance and fighting back tears of agony, you’d have already shoved him away from you. He keeps his hand on your lower back, not daring to scoop you up and carry you to the bathroom like he wants to. Instead, he lets you move at your own pace down the hall. As slow as a fucking turtle. James. You’ve never called him that before. Maybe putting his dog tags around your neck reminded you that he’s called things other than just Bucky, or Barnes, or ass. He takes that as you being one step closer to giving him what he wants most tonight.
Once you finally reach the bathroom door, he lets you step inside alone. But as soon as you move to shut the door between the two of you, he stops it with his vibranium hand.
“The door stays open.” His tone is no different than the one that you hear him use so often in the field, the one that he uses when he thinks he can give you orders like the sergeant he is. It’s never worked on you before and it sure as hell won’t now.
“I’m not letting you watch me pee.” You argue, trying to push the door closed again. Your efforts are fruitless, no match for his strength and his determination to keep the door open.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I don’t want to watch. I’m going to stand out here and wait, but I don’t feel like busting down the damn door if you fall.” You almost laugh. Not wanting him to see the small smile that’s beginning to turn up the corners of your mouth, you give in and turn around, heading over to the toilet. As you face the door once more, you watch Bucky step to the side so he’s just behind the wall, giving you the tiniest bit of privacy. You relieve yourself quickly, but as you’re standing up and pulling your panties back into place, a fresh wave of stinging pain travels down your spine, making you lurch forward and grab onto the edge of the sink for support. Bucky hears your hands land on the hard granite and he hears the way your breathing quickly changes from its usual calm rhythm to a quickened rhythm of discomfort. He wastes no time stepping into the small bathroom, placing himself behind you and looking at you in the mirror.
“What is it?” He asks, looking you over with a worried expression. Normally that worried expression would annoy you out in the field. He gets the same look when you come to the end of a firefight and he isn’t sure if you’re injured or not, or when you haven’t been responding on comms. It’s always made you feel like he thinks you can’t handle yourself. So, why now do you feel cared for?
“Just the same shit we’ve been dealing with all night.” You answer after taking in a deep, shaky breath. Unexpectedly, his hands end up on your hips. You’re starting to get used to him doing that. Instead of his touch giving you at least some minimal relief, your pain doesn’t subside. You wonder if maybe it’s because he’s touching you over your t-shirt. Maybe skin-to-skin contact is what you need right now. “Touch me.” Your words come out as a whisper, your eyes meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. Something flashes in his eyes, something that you think must be surprise at your request. Of course you’d write it off as that. It was actually a flash of desire, as your words immediately sent all of the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick. He knows that you only asked him to touch your skin, without any ulterior motives. He knows that. It’s his dick that doesn’t get the memo. He places his flesh palm across the middle of your back, pushing you forward gently until you’re bent over the sink. Adrenaline begins coursing through your veins and anticipation warms your core. You didn’t know how much you needed this again. He fingers the hem of your shirt, stealing one more look at you in the mirror before slowly sliding it up your back. As soon as your black panties are revealed to him, he lets out a barely audible groan. He closes his eyes for a second, gathering himself, before pushing your shirt up further until it rests near your shoulders. He lets his hands run down your back now, his flesh hand warm and soft and his vibranium hand cool and soothing. You feel the stinging pain along your spine easing in the slightest as you close your eyes and lean into his touch.
“Where does it hurt?” As he bends his upper body over yours, you feel his bare torso making contact with your back, his crotch so close to pressing against your ass. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks in the most tender yet sexually-charged tone you’ve ever heard fall from a man’s mouth.
“My back.” You answer him promptly, the pain evident in your voice. You’re ready for whatever it is that he might do to help you. As much as you hate to say it, you’re looking forward to whatever he might do. He slides his hands up your back again, before dragging them back down just like he did before. It’s not enough for you. You wonder if it’s enough for him, and the easiest way to get an answer to your question is to arch your back a little and push your ass back against him. You feel the hard outline of his cock line up with your ass and you can’t help the giggle that sneaks past your lips. Infuriating. He finds you fucking infuriating.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice is tense and you note the way the muscle along the side of his jaw is flexed. He’s quick to grip your waist, holding you still against the edge of the sink. His gaze narrows at you in the mirror and you think he looks almost bothered, but a little voice in the back of your head is screaming at you to test the waters.
“Hmm?” You grind your ass back again, expecting him to stop you by utilizing his hold on your waist, but he simply looks down at your ass as it rubs against his boner. You can’t read his face now. Is he bothered? Turned on? Does he want to fuck again? Bucky can barely even read himself. His cock is as hard as it’s been every other time you’ve been this close to him tonight, but within his mind, he’s warring with himself. He held himself back both of the previous times that you had sex. He was careful, diluting the strength and intensity with which he fucked you. He still fully enjoyed it, in fact, it was the best sex he’s ever had. But he was scared he’d hurt you, or even worse, that he’d get so lost chasing his own relief that he wouldn’t even notice he was practically using you.
He lets you continue your ministrations for a few seconds, watching intently as you grind against him, your back arched and your hair cascading over your shoulder. You’re so damn pretty like this that it hurts him to look at you for too long. Especially when he’s not currently inside you. He could probably stand to look at you longer if he was buried deep inside of you.
An idea crosses his mind. Something that he hadn’t been clear-minded enough to think about either of the other two times that you had sex tonight. He wants to taste you.
First, he’s going to make you scream his name while he draws an orgasm from you with only his mouth and fingers, and then he’s going to make you moan his name while he fucks your pussy.
“You know, you’ve been such a good girl tonight.” Oh my god. He did not just call you that. Bucky fucking Barnes did not just call you a good girl while his hard-on is pressed against your ass. The movement of your hips falters, but he watches as your cheeks begin to burn pink in the mirror and your eyes widen at his words. He’s found a weakness of yours.
You feel his fingertips slide beneath the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs in one deft movement. You kick them off to the side and you don’t miss the smug smile painted across his face while he watches you comply so readily. His foot moves between yours now, nudging them further apart. You fully expect him to strip off his own boxers and fuck you next. Instead, he leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your left shoulder, then your right shoulder, and then he ghosts his lips all the way down your spine. A chill runs through your body, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. What the hell is he doing? You can’t even form the words to question him, especially not when his hands begin kneading your ass as he gets down on his knees behind you.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You steal his last question, but your voice is far more shaky and unsure than his was. Suddenly, his hands spread your ass cheeks apart and he circles the tip of his tongue over your clit. “OH MY GOD,” you cry out, completely powerless to do anything other than grip the edge of the sink and scrunch your eyes closed, your back arching even more than it was before.
“Hmm?” The sound he makes causes vibrations to run through his tongue and straight to your clit, drawing another loud moan from you. You can’t think of a single thing to say, you can’t think at all really. He eats you out like it’s the sole cure for the damn chemical that he inhaled earlier tonight. He focuses his mouth on your clit, switching between licking and sucking at it, memorizing the way you taste. You’re seeing stars less than thirty seconds after he sunk down to his knees. Bucky. His name is the only thing in your brain. You bite down on your bottom lip with a bruising force. As you fight to hold back from moaning his name, your right hand reaches up and grasps the dog tags around your neck, running your thumb over the inscription as he pleasures you with his mouth. James B Barnes. You feel yourself getting undeniably close to your orgasm, and he must realize it because he only increases his efforts.
“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” He taunts, reaching up and rubbing circles against your clit with his fingers as he waits for your response. You nod, but knowing he can’t see you from his current position between your legs, you choke out a breathy answer.
“I’m so fucking close, J—” You cut yourself off abruptly before you slip up and say his name.
“What was that on the end there? Go on, say it.” He eggs you on, pride flaring in his chest at the fact that you almost said his first name. He was so close to hearing it. You shake your head, more to yourself than him, refusing to open your mouth again. “I thought you were going to be a good girl for me, Y/n.” You hear him tsk beneath you and you fear he’s going to stop everything. That is, until you feel his mouth attach to your clit once more and then…
“JAMES!” You scream his name so loud that you’re sure any enemy surveillance within a three-mile radius heard you. You couldn’t help it, you didn’t even think about it as it left your lips. He plunged two fingers into you without warning and curled them, all while flattening his tongue against your clit and giving you the most perfect, wet friction there.
You screamed his fucking name.
Bucky was full of pride and possessiveness, and so unbelievably horny. He put everything he had into drawing an orgasm out of you with his mouth and fingers, and in the end, he had you cumming so hard that you were grinding into his mouth with your left hand behind you, gripping onto his hair. You screamed his name a total of three times before your shaking legs threatened to send you tumbling to the floor, and Bucky couldn’t stand not being inside of you anymore.
That brings you to where you are now: bent over the bathroom sink with Bucky thrusting his cock into you from behind. His right hand is fisting your hair at the back of your head, making sure you can’t move to look at anything other than the reflection of him fucking the shit out of you. It’s as if a damn broke when you screamed his name the first time and now his name falls from your lips repeatedly as you moan and meet each of his thrusts, desperately chasing your second orgasm. He nearly comes undone when he hears a soft Bucky, please under your breath.
“That’s it, Y/n, say my fucking name.” He groans out, his hips snapping into you a little harder as you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Your eyes are begging him to let you cum. “You wanna cum on my cock, don’t you?” He goads, that familiar, frustrating smirk taking over his features. You nod your head as he fucks into you roughly, the sounds of his skin pounding against yours only making you wetter around his cock.
“Please, please Bucky. I need to cum.” You beg. You beg. Shit, he’s going to lose it. A deep, guttural groan is ripped from his throat as his head falls back and he moves his hands to your hips, his fingertips digging into your skin and definitely leaving bruises behind.
“Go ahead, cum for me.” He commands, rutting into you and hitting just the right spot to send you careening over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you and sends butterflies from your stomach, down to your pussy. You clench around him so hard that his own orgasm lurches forward. “Shit, just like that, baby, take it.” He lets go inside you, filling you up with more cum than the last two rounds combined. There’s so much cum that you can feel it dripping down his shaft as he continues to slowly fuck his hard cock into you. You’re so close to begging him not to pull out. You want to ask him to just stay here like this, to let you memorize what it’s like to have him inside of you like this. You’re falling off the deep end.
---
“Shh, I wasn’t going to wake you.” Bucky whispers against the side of your neck. You blink the sleep from your eyes, trying to remember where you are. You’re wide awake once you feel the head of his cock slipping past your folds and sliding halfway inside you.
“Bucky…” You whimper at the unexpected penetration, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in. Your entrance is so sore from the three other times that you’ve fucked tonight. The feel of his cock sliding in and out of you at a gentle, steady pace grounds you. He’s spoon-fucking you in bed. You both crashed after he took you from behind in the bathroom earlier, and instead of you being the first one to wake up this time, it was him. He woke up so hard and desperate to feel you again. He wanted to let you sleep as long as you possibly could, especially when you looked so comfortable and peaceful in bed next to him, but he needed to hear you say his name again. He fucks you so slowly and tenderly that you can feel every single inch of him as he takes his time with you. You lean back into him, hooking your left leg back and over his legs as he continues his work. He takes your change of position as a go-ahead and his vibranium hand travels up your side, slipping underneath your shirt and grasping one of your tits. Fuck. He hasn’t touched you there before. You moan as he does what he wants with your body, each of your orgasms building up at a leisurely pace. Something about the way he’s fucking you this time feels so much more intimate, so much more like making love. You know you should hate it. You should want to go back to the rough, near hate-sex you were having earlier tonight, but you can’t find it within yourself to change a damn thing.
“You’re so perfect…” Bucky whimpers in your ear. He attaches his lips to the skin just below your ear. You feel his tongue on your skin, licking and then sucking far too gently to leave any visible mark. He wants to mark you up. God, he wants to mark you up. But he knows better than to let anyone find out about any of this. While Bucky is busy reminding himself not to leave any visible marks on your skin, you’re seconds away from giving him the only other thing he wanted tonight. He keeps massaging your neck, the curve of your jaw, and the shell of your ear with his lips and tongue. Without a single thought in your mind, you turn your head to him and press your lips against his. Every muscle in his body freezes, but you feel his cock twitch inside of you. You know you shouldn’t have done it, but now that you’re doing it, you can’t stop. You kiss him harder, sucking on his bottom lip and moaning against him. Bucky thinks he could cum just from this, from being inside you completely still while you kiss him. He wastes no time now, his vibranium hand tilting your chin up for him and giving him a good angle to slip his tongue into your mouth.
Fuck.
Your mouth tastes as good as your cunt.
Next Part
TAG LIST:
@sarcastickiddo @donttalktosposts @marygoddessofmischief @its-daydreamer23 @lightsonnoonehome @gyokujyn @kandis-mom @millercontracting @alicia-bman @littlemiss-yeehaw @sdddoobydoobydoo @a-rotten-chicken-nugget @browneyedgirl22 @charmedbysarge @i-dont-know-how-to-words @maraaaamartinnnn @hensawweston @traderjoesmints @fictionallyunavailable4ever @black-cat-2 @just-act-natural @phoenixstark1708 @ladyvenera @walkingwithoutreason @bubblevicioussss @larajadeschmidt13 @thealloveru2 @unaxv @crist1216 @joannaromanoff @jenniferpendragon @i-will-always-kneel-for-smut @sydneylaufeyson22 @tinakham
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#the winter soldier#winter soldier#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel#mcu#bucky barnes smut
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Absolutely Ravenous
Kinktober Day 25: Mirror Sex
Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it irl i am begging), mirror sex obviously, slight degradation, overstimulation, kind of free use, Miguel is feral again what can I say (w/c: 1K)
A/N: SO even though I did not get all of Kinktober done within the month, I am determined to finish all of the prompts! So just stay tuned for days 26-31 in the coming month, and you can think of it like Kinkvember or somethin'. ANYWAY back to it with Miguel because I was inspired by this ask!! (Of course, I am using these prompts from flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)
He’s relentless, ravenous, fucking insatiable.
Miguel O’Hara is a man who prides himself on his control over every situation. He has to be in control, for the good of the Spider Society, for the good of the multiverse. He knows when to stop, when he’s reached a certain limit. He’s careful to keep himself objective and distant, especially in front of the other Spiders.
But not with you. Never with you.
He’s careful and collected, but the second he has you behind closed doors, all bets are off.
Miguel is a fucking animal when he gets like this, needy for your touch, desperate to fuck you over and over until you both can’t possibly move anymore. On nights like these, he wrings you dry, breaking you to pieces on his fingers, his tongue, his cock.
He’d fucked you on the floor in your living room the moment he’d walked through the door, pounding you into the rug and snarling at the feel of you, his eyes bleeding red.
He’d carried you to your bed immediately after, eating his cum out of you with clawed hands digging into your thighs, holding you steady as you thrashed against the sheets. He’d fucked you again, pumping more cum into your abused pussy and kissing the tears from your eyes.
He carries you to the shower like a gentleman after that, like he hasn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life. He washes the sweat off your body while you cling to him, resting your cheek against his broad chest. And his desperate fingers just can’t seem to help themselves, dragging through the seam of your pussy and sinking two of them deep inside of you.
And you’re just as needy, just as ravenous. So you let him. You take everything he gives you and thank him for it. You grasp onto his shoulders and moan pleases and thank yous into his mouth as he finger-fucks you beneath the spray of hot water.
You let him drag you out of the shower and bend you over the bathroom sink. You let him push his fat cock into your pussy without protest, just as desperate for it as he is.
That’s the thing about nights like these, it’s never fucking enough.
He just looks so big behind you, his body tense and muscles rippling as he drives into you over and over and over again. He’s like a beast over his prey, and the sight of it makes you shake, your body forced to open to him as he takes control.
You both are still dripping wet from the shower, the bathroom steamy and hot, and God, you feel lightheaded. You grip onto the marble of the counter for dear life as his cock stretches you so goddamn wide, reaching so fucking deep. His fingertips dig into your hips, pulling you back into every single thrust, bullying his cock as deep into you as fucking possible.
“Fuck, baby,” he slurs through his fangs, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Look so fucking gorgeous like this, fucking beautiful, taking my cock so perfect.”
“Miguel, I can’t-” you whimper, tears leaking down your face and dripping into the sink below you. “It’s too much, fuck, I can’t cum again, I can’t.”
“You can, hermosa, you’re my good girl, you can do it,” he says, pulling you back into him harder, practically fucking you onto his cock, using you like a toy, and you cry out, your head dropping to hang down and just fucking taking it.
“Look at me,” he growls. “Look at how good I fuck you.” He curls a fist into your hair and pulls, dragging your head back up to look into your reflection. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, bebita? Getting fucked like a little whore, and good whores cum when they get fucked like this. Don’t I treat this pussy so good, honey? Don’t I deserve to feel you cum?”
You jerk in his hold like you’ve been struck by fucking lightning, painful moans ripping your way out of your throat every time he drives in in in. “Yes, fuck,” you croak, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “You fuck me so perfect Miguel, it feels- it feels so fucking big inside, can’t- I can’t fucking breathe.”
A hard smack lands on your ass, sending pain ringing through your body alongside relentless pleasure, and you scream, meeting his hard gaze in your reflection. And God, he’s beautiful. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his fangs peaking past his full lips. He looks like a god, his muscles bulging and shifting beneath his shining, golden skin.
“Watch,” he snarls, primal and fucking mean, and it makes you clench around him involuntarily. “Watch me make you cum.” He reaches beneath you to rub his thick fingers into your aching clit, and you do.
You can only watch, mouth agape around a silent scream, as pleasure wracks your body, shuddering as you clench around Miguel’s cock. It’s painful after he’s made you cum so many times tonight, but God, it’s so fucking good. You feel like you’re dying, trembling in his hold as he rocks you back onto him through your orgasm.
“God, that’s fucking good,” he breathes, pumping into you once, twice more before stilling, sucking in a beath through clenched teeth as he floods you full of cum all over again. He’s gorgeous to watch, the tendons in his neck tightening, his eyes fluttering as he groans through his orgasm.
He pulls you back up against him to rest you against his warm body, not the cold, hard sink. It’s bliss.
“We’re going to have to shower again, Miguel,” you murmur, and you watch Miguel’s face twitch into a smirk in the mirror. Your heart flutters. “Separately, Mig, we have to get clean sometime,” you chastise.
He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. “Maybe sometime, but not tonight, hermosa,” he murmurs, and it sounds like pure sin. “Not before I’m done with you.”
#can i write miguel as anything other than feral and whipped#it remains to be seen#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara smut#miguel ohara x reader#miguel x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 smut#across the spiderverse fic#across the spiderverse smut#astv x reader
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୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 8﹕✦﹕┈・୧
Hawks x f!reader -> Cockwarming
Event Masterlist
a/n: soft hawksie, comfort, slice of life <3, cockwarmin.
there are times your work, your day absolutely drains the fuck out of you. you want nothing more than keigo and to be covered in the duvet of his wings. today you were late from work, reaching home at 10 pm. it was irritating— you were drained and your shoulders were slumped, keigo noticed the lack of ease and effortlessness in your body language and facial expressions in the morning itself. a sudden murmur when he wore his hero jacket, “why don’t you take an off from work sweetie? take my card and spoil yourself a bit mm?” keigo tried, but you dismissed his proposal. “no, im good thanks kei” your smile also seemed forced—
now that you had returned home, keigo came over to you immediately. wearing his grey joggers and a white tee. fuck he didn’t even have to try !! he was so ethereal. the blazing sun had toned down in japan & keigo’s golden tan with it. you walked towards him, hugging him eagerly. a musical chuckle escaped him as his hands groped your back, “aww~ my cute little birb.” he mumbles, leaning back and kissing your lips softly, melting away your stress and worries. “dinner?” he muses, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.
“mhm, what do we have?” you asked him, nuzzling against his palm when he cupped your face. “mm, whatever you want is what we have. keigo’s kitchen especially catered to his baby girl.” he grinned. you love that he addressed himself as keigo and not ‘hawks’ in front of you.
“some chicken soup.” you hummed, smiling back at him tenderly, through tired eyes.
“gotcha~” he took out his phone to check for outlets and you chuckled, “hey now, wasn’t this keigo’s kitchen?” keigo bit his lip, blushing with a grin. “yes it is, just out sourcing some stuff.” he winked, sounding exactly like the man of your dreams — oh wait, he is.
the dinner came in quick, by the time you were out of the shower, a stray plume caressed your cheek, making you giggle as you paved your way towards the dining area. “dinner is ready missy, sit down.” keigo looked at you, still in the bathrobe and whistled. “oh my~” you blushed and rolled your eyes at his antics, sitting down and having dinner with your husband. things seem so great when you start counting these little moments that life awards you with your man.
once the dinner was finished, where you talked to him about work, he talked about his— well, as much as he could share of course. you got up. flustered at what you’re about to ask. “wanna, cockwarm.” the words came out of your mouth easy. keigo smirked, “mm? want to feel daddy that close huh?” you nodded, blushing and looking down.
you nodded, looking into his eyes because you know he likes it. “yeah, wan’- wan’ to feel you close keigo.” you looked down, fuck his siren gaze with his marked golden eyes made you shiver. “and too tired for the whole sex.” you pouted, while keigo observed you in awe.
“mkay, if my sweet little girl wants that, who the hell am i to deny her demands? don’t want to be a bad daddy to my kid.” he winked, carrying you bridal style, a low purr escaping him when you lean against his chest as he took you to your shared bedroom.
“looks like gotta work you up first mm? how else are you gonna take daddy’s cock?” keigo smirked, oh he had no filter at times… you pouted, quite impatient and wanting to feel stretched & full already. after all these years with you, keigo has become an excellent mind reader. “okay okay~ let me get the lube, mm?” he cooed, pulling the knot of your bath suit and kissing your exposed tits. tugging at your nipples just to check how far he could go with them. they get really sensitive depending upon the time of the month & keigo doesn’t want to hurt his darling.
spreading your legs, pupils dilating in anticipation, keigo lubed up your pretty pussy and groaned when you arched your back at him rubbing your clit. “there she is, there she is.” he hums, spreading your cunt lips and thrusting himself in slowly. you arched your back and whined, gasping at the stretch. “fuck— i can’t.” you moaned when keigo pressed your pelvis, making you feel just how deep he’s reaching.
“that’s it sweetness, that’s it. ssh~ you’re taking it so well.” he crooned, kissing your neck and stilling. your eyes were glossing up. overwhelmed by the smouldering amount of love keigo showers you with. “i love you.”
“i love you too.” he said it like a silent prayer, smiling tenderly at you and leaning beside, adjusting your position & kissing your forehead deeply. “cute. my cute little angel birdie.” he smiled, kissing your eyelids. “let it go for me okay? all your worries, all your stress. because i’d always be here.”
and he’ll always be there for you. <3 you don’t doubt that.
#hawks bnha#hawks#mha hawks#hawks imagines#hawks x reader#hawks x you#hawks smut#hawks thirst#hawks x reader smut#bnha smut#bnha thirst#mha smut#mha thirst#mha x reader smut#bnha x reader smut#kinktober#kinktober 2023#mha kinktober#bnha kinktober
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Step-Dad Rafe makes you suck him off when you act up at dinner 🤭🎀 (something I wrote a while ago.. Very dirty.)
“Your cunt is just dripping like the little slut you are.” The voice of your stepdad said from behind you. On all fours with your ass in the air, you were completely exposed to him. Before you could say anything, a hand came down hard on your left ass cheek, making you yelp. Rafe shook his head and smacked the other one. “You think I’m gonna take it easy on you after the shit you pulled at my business dinner? My fucking dad, my fucking partners.” The sounds of your ass being smacked, echoing throughout the bedroom. “You just wanna get me caught up. You forget I'm married to your mom?”
“Rafey.. please.” You begged, your tight cunt on fire with want.
“Rafey please.” He mocked with a menacing chuckle. “Shut your whiny ass up. Understand that slut?” He asked, hitting your backside one last time before walking around the bed to face you. Getting a clear view of the tall man now, you watched as his ringed fingers began to unbutton the white button down he wore. His toned chest came to view, making you want to reach out and run your hands over his toned stomach. You knew better though, way better.
“See what you did?” He asked, palming himself through his dress pants. “Here I am trying to make business deals, so my little brat of a stepdaughter can go buy whatever she wants and you do this shit.” He said. Licking his bottom lip, he looked down at you through dark blue eyes. His right hand, popped the button open of his pants, tugging at the fly to pull them down along with his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. A long hard cock sprung out nearly hitting you in the face, making you lick your lips.
Chuckling lowly, Rafe took his length slapping it against your cheek. “Open.” He spat, in which you gladly obliged. You were met with a mouth full of cock, lips stretching the more he pushed. You instantly gagged, not ready for the intrusion making you look up at him with pleading eyes only to be met with laughter. “Open wider slut.” He said, which you of course did as he told.
His cock began sliding in and out between your glossy lips, your throat welcoming him. He was big and you were amazed he could shove his meat so far down. You also knew your Stepdad took pride in that. You reached out to grab his hips for support but were met with his dick quickly being pulled from your mouth. “Keep your fucking hands off me.” He demanded. His fingers then prying your mouth open wide as he shoved his cock back in. You gagged once more around his length, eyes watering as your mouth was being stretched to the max. “Who’s daddy’s cock sucking whore?” He asked.
“Mwah.” You said around his cock, ashamed at the fact you couldn't speak.
He pulled out, thick spit dangling off his cock and your pretty mouth. “What was that?” He asked, amused at how fucking beautiful you still looked.
“Me. I’m a good cock sucking whore.” You nearly moaned, pussy dripping down your thighs at the way he degraded you.
Taking his cock in hand, Rafe rubbed it along your gorgeous face, letting the spit smear your once perfected makeup. “Yeah that’s right you dirty whore. Look at you with your stepdad’s big dick all over your face.” He chuckled, rubbing the tip against your lips. His favorite thing to do was turn his girl out behind closed doors, never caring that his mind was was fucked up for doing this.
#rafe cameron#dark rafe cameron#step!dad rafe#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron blurb#drew starkey#rafe cameron smut#drew starkey x reader#obx smut#obx#drew starkey smut
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-sizetrainingwiththeboys-
That's all I'm gonna say :)
:))))))))) you are the reason why I am the way I am - ANYWAYS, doing this with the bd gang (big dick gang) who require more preparation than the others; Chris, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin!
❣ Summary: Size training with the bd gang [big dick gang].
❣ Warnings: Mentions of sex toys [dildos], sexting [Chris], cockwarming [Changbin, unprotected], riding [Jeongin, unprotected], degradation [Minho, Hyunjin] ❣
❣ Word Count: 886
❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/n] You/Your pronouns ❣
❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Minho is referred to as Min, Reader is referred to as princess, baby, kitten, bunny, angel, my love
Chris, who encourages your size training whenever you can; glancing at his phone during a late night at the studio to see a notification from you. He can't help the twitch in his dick as he stares at the picture you sent; you, kneeling on your shared bed, the dildo you both painstakingly searched for to match his cock the best it could currently stretching you open with a shine he can only imagine to be a mixture of your arousal and lube. A small smirk grows from the message attached;
Princess💘: Miss you ❣️
He picks up the device, the work currently on his desktop going forgotten and diminishing in importance the longer he stares at that picture.
Channie💖: Fuck, good girl, make sure you're stretched out well for me, I'll be home soon
-
Minho, who's more solid than anything, thick and veiny with a curve that has you seeing double before he can even begin to fuck you. He prefers opening you up with a toy that mirrors his thickness, but not his length; that part is reserved for him and him alone.
"Kitten, if you're struggling to take this small thing, how do you expect yourself to handle me?" He tuts as he changes the angle of the toy inside of you, your legs quivering around his shoulders that keep you spread open for him.
"M-Min, please, just give it to me already!"
He makes a noise of disagreement, licking his lips as he inches near your soaked pussy, "Not yet, kitten - I think you need a little more training."
-
Changbin, who's preferred method of training you is by having you cockwarm him - specifically during cuddles, or during the night so your pussy remembers his shape before he fucks you the next night.
At first it was only the tip during cuddles, both of you laying on your sides, chest to chest, your leg hitched up on his hip while his thick head rests snug between your tight walls. But eventually, with a little time and a lot of dedication and determination [and mental fortitude], you had graduated into taking his insanely girthy cock like a champ; nestled to the hilt as you lay on top of him, his hands drawing soothing shapes on your lower back.
"Look at you, bunny," he murmurs softly, shifting his hips up ever so slightly, feeling your pussy clench in retaliation, "looks like you're finally ready to take all of me."
-
Hyunjin, whose dick is so long you're not even sure how it'll fit inside of you - so, to prepare you, you both agreed on buying a dildo that was close enough to match his length, and you'd use it whenever he wasn't there to train you himself.
It was... a lot, to say the least, a scheduled routine for you both; one inch with him, two inches with the toy, two inches with him, three inches with the toy, three inches with him, and so on and so forth until you were able to take the toy to it's full length - which meant you were ready to take him.
If course, the moment you were comfortable enough with trying it out, his schedule got in the way and you confined yourself to fucking yourself with the toy until he was able to give you what you wanted. What you didn't expect, however, was for his practice to end early - or for him to come home to you on your knees, ass in the air, arm squeezed between your torso and the mattress as you fucked the silicone toy desperately.
"Oh, angel, look at you," he crawled on the bed behind you, long fingers brushing against your smaller ones as he took the base of the toy in his hand, "so ready to take me, you can't even make yourself come on this silly toy."
You opened your mouth in a plea, but the words are stolen from your tongue once you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper sliding down.
"I'm here now, my love, let's see how good this training did, hm?"
-
Jeongin, the second longest, nearly perfect in every other aspect that you almost didn't want to go through the hassle of preparing yourself for him. But, he's a worrier - he knows he's above average and he knows that if things aren't done right, he could seriously hurt you; so, to quell his fear, you offered him a compromise.
That compromise involved you on top of him - he didn't trust himself to top until you could take him with no struggle - slowly riding him inch by inch until you could reach the base with the smallest of bounces along his cock. This took some getting used to for both you and him, seeing as by the time he was fully seated inside of you, you both were three strokes away from finishing.
But, it was well worth it come the night you offered to ride him, determined to see the fruits of your labor realized.
Oh, how realized they were.
You sunk down on him in one go, velvet walls welcoming him almost too easily and his head spun; gripping your hips with trembling breaths and a glowing smile.
"Fuck," he gasped, an airy laugh escaping him, "Fucking ride me, baby."
#✧. ┊ kacii answers#stray kids smut#skz smut#bang chan smut#lee minho smit#seo changbin smut#changbin smut#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin smut#jeongin smut#bangchan x reader#bang chan x reader#lee minho x reader#lee know x reader#seo changbin x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#yang jeongin x reader#jeongin x reader#stray kids hard thoughts#skz hard hours#skz hard thoughts
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Happy late Halloween. I hope you guys enjoy this Halloween special. Aaron miller is my favorite fitness influencer and always want to use him in story’s but always want to save him for something good. I ended up saying fuck it and writing the below. Let me know if you like it!
ROOMMATE CLONESTUME (Halloween Special)
You would think having a fitness influencer as a college roommate would be like winning the lottery. Being able to see pieces of eye candy almost every day, almost practically shirtless all the time, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. You see Aaron Miller was your typical douchebag straight jock bro behind the camera. Always calling me fag but always saying he’s just joking and I need to toughen up. Of course, you would never catch him like that on camera, always playing like the fun-loving jock goofball. Thankfully he’s leaving tonight to go to some stupid Halloween party at the frat house.
“Yo fag! How do I look” I hear his voice call from the living room
“Fucking hot right! All the chicks are gonna be all over me begging from some of this Miller cock” he said while smirking and flexing in front of the full-length mirror in the living room
“Yeah I’m sure they will Aaron” I reply while rolling my eyes and begging he would leave soon.
“You know some other frat across campus invited me to their Halloween but I already promised my bro I’m going to Alpha Omegas party. Feel free to accept my invite”
"I think I'm good, I got to finish my term paper but I guess thanks" I replied thinking it weird why he would think I would somehow fit in at a frat party
“Well, bro the invite is in my room and feel free to use last year's costume.. might be a bit big haha. Anyway gotta go before the good Pus gets taken” Aaron said taking one last pic for his IG story and heading out
“Thank god, I can finally work on my paper,” I said heading to my room. I walk by Aaron’s room and notice his door ever so slightly open. I ended up looking in and seeing a paper which I assumed was the invite lying on his messy bed next to what seemed to be the black Spiderman suit he wore last year for Halloween.
“Wow, did he really think I was gonna put that on” I say as I continue to walk further into the room the scent of stale gym clothes and musky axe cologne lingered in the air.
As I get closer to the bed I keep looking back and forth from the costume and the letter. I don’t know why but I ended up grabbing the costume something about it was calling me. The silky satin feeling of the spandex with the scent of stain sweat and beer, most likely from last year's party. “Maybe I should try it on” I whisper under my breath.
I start to undress myself in Aaron’s room until I’m standing in just my briefs. I look around feeling kinda risqué in his room half naked, but something felt right about putting this one. I slowly start to unzip the costume looking into the dark interior. As I started to put on the costume I could immediately tell it was quite a few sizes too big and especially since Aaron had worn it previously certain areas were stretched out more than usual. I slowly start to pull the costume up my body as I get halfway to putting it on something feels wrong
“No no why am I doing this I need to work on my paper” I say snapping out of the hazy confusion but as soon as I try to take off the suit I knew something was wrong
“What the fuck” The rest of the suit starts to climb up my slim body and sticking to any skin it touches. I tried to remove it, but the suit just snapped back almost like a second skin. “STOP” I scream as it continues to travel upwards my body covering all the way up until it reaches my neck. I soon hear the noise of a zipper closing and a cold feeling riding up my back. I immediately reached backwards trying to catch the self-moving zipper before it closed all the way, but I was too late as soon as I grabbed the zipper head I felt it disappear from my hand as the suit started to close up leaving no seam behind.
“What the fuck is this, how does this happen” I continue trying to take off the suit but it just gets tighter and tighter until a moment where I lose control. “What..” my body starts to move slowly by itself it feels like I lost control of anything the suit has encompassed. I start to move towards Aaron’s nightstand, grab the remote to his TV and turn it on. I was immediately blasted with the audio and imagined Aaron almost like he was starting off one of his annoying Instagram videos.
“What is going on PEEEOPLES! Or should I say fag” he said chuckling to himself at the uncreative nickname he has bestowed upon me.
“WHAT THE FUCK AARON WHAT IS THIS” I scream at the tv as my body stands still disobeying my mind.
“ you’re probably going “what the fuck Aaron?” or some shit like that but no bother bro, this is all recorded. No one to help you now haha. You see I was tired of having some fuck ass roommate that I couldn’t share anything with so I looked online and found this powder with some special powers. I sprinkled it on my old costume and all I had to do was wait for the next person to wear it. I knew you would be tempted. I mean who couldn’t” he says as he flexes his bicep.
“So anyways, I got invited to this banger party and said yes but some other frat also invited me to theirs and like fuck I couldn’t be in two places at once. So I thought and figure maybe you’ll like to go but couldn’t have some loser gay fag representing me so I decided you needed a small makeover. That special powder is gonna make you into me and you won’t even remember ever being your faggy little self. So hope you enjoy the party bro and remember the party is not complete till a girl gets bred.” And with that the TV shut off but before I could react something went over my head shutting my eyes
“Fuck fuck get this off of me” I say noticing that it was a mask probably to complete the stupid Spider-Man costume.
Soon the changes started to happen I felt the suit tighten but at the same time expand. It first started with my feet growing to a large size 14. The changes travelled upwards as my calfs and thighs started to expand giving me tree trunks for legs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit in any of my pants anymore. Soon I felt a pain in my stomach like I was kicked by a boxer
“UGH FUCK” I say as I fall on my knees. While I couldn’t see anything under the suit I knew abs started to form one by one leaving an impressive six-pack behind. As I looked down I started to see my chest push out. Creating a shelf right under my head. Two massive pecs now jutted out of my body and now I had to make an effort if I wanted to see any part of my body below my pecs.
The change travelled outwards as the suit forced me to do a double bicep pose typical of what I see Aaron do when he’s back from the gym. Soon my biceps and triceps started to expand like crazy. My muscles became sore as they grew to match his arms exactly.
Lastly, the feeling travelled up to my face and I felt the muscles crack inside my skull and the fat draining from my cheeks. I was screaming in agony until the pain suddenly left.
My body Finally fell down to the ground like a puppet dropped by its owner. I slowly get up and start to remove the mask and notice the zipper has reappeared. I zip the costume just until it hits my waist. My body was sweating from the changes and I needed to know what happened.
I knew Aaron had a mirror in his closet and ran to the door to open it. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was seeing…
An exact copy of him was standing right in the mirror.
“No no, this can’t be… I can’t be him” I say panicking not recognizing my own body in front of me. I tried to figure out what I could do to change back and started to run to my room, but as soon as I reached the door to exit, I came to a sudden halt.
I looked down which was difficult trying to see over these massive pecs and realised I still had the costume on. My eyes widened as my legs started to walk me back to his desk and force me to sit down. I tried to fight back but to no use. I was losing control… soon my arm started to move toward the computer and turning it on
“No wait, stop please” I scream at my unresponsive body but it continued to move on its own.
As the computer turns on a pre-loaded video comes along with it...
YOU ARE AARON MILLER
“NO NO STOP” I scream realizing it was hypnosis
Clips of Aaron flexing and pictures of his body invade the screen between phrases.
YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN AARON
FLEX
JOCK
MUSCLE
My eyes started to become glued to the screen against my will. I tried to resist but I couldn’t. Soon I noticed my arms moving again. They move downwards and started to push the costume lower until *pop* my cock bounces out.
“No… please let me go,” I say as the arm reaches for my dick and starts to jack it off slowly at first.
JOCK
BRO
Soon the images changed. More of Aaron joking around with his friends, drinking, partying and working out. Videos of him fucking and breeding girls always started to appear. I knew some of them from school
BRO
DUDE
BREED
Soon the jacking off started to pick up speed as more and more of the hypnosis and reprogramming started to settle in. My brain was trying to fight a losing battle. I was able to gain a small amount of control to see my cock as I noticed it starting to expand. Slowly it lengthened from its original 5 inches hard …. 6…7….8 until I reached a mighty 9 inches. My hand started to lose grip as the girth also started to grow almost not allowing me to fully encompass the cock with one hand. Next, I felt my balls change they started to lower until they fell into a pouch inside the costume that no doubt used to be where the original Aaron had his. They grew larger as my moans started to overshadow the video. I felt a kick in the balls as I knew my old cum was being eaten by the new alpha cum Aaron produces
“Pls… uhhh… stop this” I say with the last residuals of will I had as my arm continued jacking my new cock until it reached near orgasm
“No….”
BREED
“Pls…”
JOCK
“I don’t”
YOU ARE
“Want thi….”
AARON MILLER
“FUUUUUUUCK”
I cum all over my body and my room as I snap out of the horny daze
“Fuck that was good. Now gotta get to that fucking party before someone takes all the good puss”
I get up from the desk and shuffle over to my closet to grab a used cum towel and wipe myself off.
I grab the costume from my waist and pull it all the way up zipping the costume as well. I smirk in the mirror knowing all the chicks are gonna want some of this Miller cock.
The original Aaron’s plan worked perfectly. He now had a complete copy of himself running around breeding and partying. He finally had someone he could share everything with, himself! Of course, people asked questions but he just said it was his twin brother.
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professor bang
word count: 2.3k
warnings: unprotected sex, power imbalance (grad student x professor), multiple orgasms, chan calling the reader pet/good girl
synopsis: you laid out a perfectly crafted trap to seduce the hot professor - too bad he’s one step ahead of you.
the midday air is unsuspecting as you walk down the creaky hallway, floorboards of the psychology building groaning under your feet. the nerves are close to eating you up whole but you continue walking, too far into your plan to turn back now - you know what you want, and you’re going to get it. no one turns an eye as you walk past open doors, the hem of your dress swishing around your knees. they’re accustomed to seeing you here, being a graduate student in the department means you spend more time here than you do in your own apartment.
you stop at one door in a series of identical ones, only told apart by a worn out plaque listing a room number and a shinier, newer one reading “christopher bang, ph.d.” underneath it.
the door is cracked just a bit, enough for you to peer inside and there he is, standing in front of his desk, wearing a crisp white shirt under a grayish-blue blazer. his pants are too tight to be suitable for a professor, and they cling to his thighs and stretch across his ass perfectly, making you pause in the doorway with a hungry stare that lasts for too many seconds.
when you look up you meet his eyes and it makes you jump; you didn’t know that he knew you were there. this doesn’t fit in the plan.
the plan you cooked up when he got a little too cozy with you during the department holiday party last semester. the plan you’ve been making and scrapping and working yourself up to execute, avoiding him at every corner so that he wouldn’t know. you were supposed to surprise him, walk in pretending like you needed help with some assignment, getting closer and closer to him until your breaths were intermingling and then you’d look into his eyes and he would glance at your lips and-
and now he’s caught you checking him out like some kind of creep.
“oh, hi y/n,” he says, eyes turning crinkly as he looks at you with a shit-eating grin. fuck.
now that you’ve been found out, you slide inside the gap in the door, shutting it closed behind you and letting the lock click behind your back. if he notices, he doesn’t react, steady eyes trained on you as your feet take you closer and closer to his desk.
“hi professor bang,” you say, surprised by how clear your voice comes out. that’s good, you wouldn’t want him to know how nervous you are just yet, it would add to his smugness and you didn’t know if you could handle his ego being even bigger than it is right now.
“what can i do for you?” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the desk. the blazer stretches over his shoulders and the material does nothing to hide his biceps and your mouth waters. he quirks an eyebrow at you when you don’t speak for a moment, and you have to clear your throat before any sound comes out.
“i needed some help with a research project,” you say, moving close enough to him that if anyone were to walk in they would absolutely report the both of you for some kind of ethical violation. good thing you locked the door, then. “i was hoping you could be of service.”
“oh?” he leans further back into the desk, fully relaxed in a way you wish you were. “what kind of project?”
“well, it has to do with human connection,” you trail a finger across the collar of his blazer, further down until it catches on a button, in a show of false confidence. “i was looking to maybe get some hands-on experience? for research, of course.”
you feel a swell of victory when his breath catches in his throat and his arms loosen from where they were crossed to drop at his side.
“well i certainly am the expert in that domain,” he drawls, eyes flickering down to your lips and back up. “i did write my dissertation on it, after all.”
it’s a lie - you’ve read his dissertation, full of information about cognitive theory and eye movements and other things that honestly went way over your head. not a single mention of human connection was in that document, but the fact that he’s so readily playing along with you means that you didn’t misread anything. either he wants you, or he enjoys toying with you; either way, you were on board.
even more so when he takes his blazer off, throwing it off to the side like it didn’t cost him an aggressive amount of money to buy. you’ve seen the designer labels on him plenty of times enough to know he likes to treat himself to nice things.
you’re hoping you can be his next nice thing, the next possession that he flaunts and parades around.
you lean in for a kiss, but he surprises you and flips the both of you around until you’re backed up into the desk. he’s leaning over you, dark eyes looking down at you like you’re his prey.
“let’s even the playing field a bit, shall we?” his voice has gone down, low and sultry, and you feel your head loll back from how it makes you feel. he makes quick work of removing your dress, letting the material pool to the floor so he could focus on your bra. it’s your favorite one, lacey and red and sexy, the material leaving nothing to the imagination. he takes a second to admire it, fingering at the strap around your shoulder and sliding his thumb into the cup before he reaches behind you and unhooks it in one try. it joins his blazer and your dress on the floor a moment later, and you’re left feeling exposed in front of him.
“how is this even?” you ask, resisting the urge to cover yourself with your hands. “you’re still wearing all of your clothes.”
“well, sweetheart,” he starts, moving impossibly closer to you. “we’re in my office. that means i get to decide the rules, no?”
he swipes an arm across the table behind you before you can answer. papers flutter in the air, and he’s hiking you up onto the desk before they reach the ground. his hands are under your thighs, spreading them apart so he can fit between them. one of his hands snakes into the band of your underwear, your sensitive skin erupting in goosebumps from his touch.
“so wet,” he says, a smirk painting his face as his fingers part your folds to make slow circles around your clit. it shouldn’t be enough to send shivers up your spine, but it’s him, so it does.
“for you,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. the amused glint in his eyes turns sharp, dark and possessive. just what you wanted.
“this is mine?” he asks, cupping you in his hand while his other reaches around the small of your back to hold you close to him.
“yours,” you hum, nodding even though his attention certainly wasn’t on your head.
he dips his fingers inside of you, gliding easily inside from how his fingers are coated with your juices. when he crooks his fingers and thumbs at your clit your head tips back, and you might have lost your balance if he wasn’t holding you so close that you could feel his breath on your skin.
it’s on your third time stumbling over the word professor that he leans into your ear and tells you to call him chris, his lips kissing your ear as he works you to your high. you’re shaking apart on his desk and yet he doesn’t relent, he continues to move his fingers with fervor until you can’t help but push at his chest to get him to stop.
“chris,” you stutter out when he latches his lips to your neck, open mouthed and hot as his fingers move to grab at your thighs. his hands are so big, veins bulging as he digs his fingers in. you hope there are bruises there, tomorrow. and the next day.
“gonna fuck you now, okay?” he says, voice husky. “for research.”
“yeah, research,” you breath out, using both your hands to cradle his face so that you could kiss him, finally. his lips are as soft as you imagined, plushy pillows that you could find yourself lost in for hours. he keeps his lips on yours as he moves your underwear down and off, helping you balance so he could slide it under your thighs until you’re bare in front of him. you’re unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers, and he chuckles against you when you can’t get one of them open.
“funny?” you break away from him, eyes trained on the way his lips are red and slick with spit.
“you’re cute,” condescension lines his voice and a spark of anger runs through you at how he knows he has the upper hand. he gently takes your hands away from his clothes and makes quick work of them himself. in what feels like a split second, he’s stripped of his shirt and pants and he’s pulling down his boxers, revealing smooth planes of muscle and strong thighs and bulging arms that you’ve fantasized about for months. you don’t know if you want to cover them in bites or let him crush you with them more - there will be time for that, the next time.
you know there’s going to be a next time if it’s already this good and he’s barely even done anything to you yet.
he spreads your thighs apart further, and you don’t miss how he licks his lips at the view of your dripping cunt in front of him before he lines himself up at your entrance. you barely got a glimpse of his cock, but your mouth waters at the idea of it being inside of you. he glides his cock through your folds a few time, slicking himself up before pressing his head inside of you.
when he bottoms out you can’t help but tighten your walls around him, helpless to the desires of your own body, and the groan he lets out makes you clench down even harder.
“relax, pet,” he says, panting a bit. his thumb strokes at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “i’m going to take good care of you okay? but you need to relax for me.”
he leans down to kiss you again, and it must be a good enough distraction because he begins moving in time with the swipes of his tongue on your teeth. every time he rocks into you the air punches out of your lungs, you’re so full. he moves his face to the crook of your neck to hide his own labored breaths when he increases his pace, thrusting into you faster than you can keep up with.
he’s pressing you into the desk with each movement of his hips, the sharp corner against your legs sending pricks of pain up to your head. the game is over, the research bit is done, now it’s just chris taking what he wants from you. you love it. his arms wrap around you, keeping you upright, and you latch onto him like a lifeline. you’re completely at his mercy, entirely submissive to the way he’s keeping you still so he can use you.
you can tell he’s close when he pushes his head even further into your skin, fingers gripping your back and his movements becoming sharp and purposeful. he spills into you a second later with a bite to your neck, and you can’t help yourself from following him as your head tips back in pleasure.
when he pulls out you wince, the emptiness that he’s left you with feeling worse than you’ve ever felt with anyone else. he lowers you onto the desk slowly, letting your head rest on his mousepad as he runs his hands up and down your sides in comforting sweeps. you’re utterly spent, two orgasms hitting your limit, even more intense coming from him.
“one more,” he drawls out, not showing compassion at all for the way you’re panting and drooling onto his desk. “you can do one more for me, can’t you?”
“no, no, no,” your voice comes out thready and light, barely a sound. his hand returns to your core either way, slow circles of his fingers around your clit making your body twitch with each pass. the oversensitivity is too much, but you’re too weak to pull away from him. you don’t even know if you want to, anymore.
“there’s my good girl,” he grins when you whine and rut down onto his hand. you didn’t know it was possible, but the coils in your lower belly start to tighten faster than before. you’re coming before you even realize it’s happening, pleasure seeping from your core to your fingertips, an all encompassing sensation that you can’t put words to. it lasts for what feels like forever, waves and waves of ecstasy rocking through your body until your vision blacks out for a moment.
“you did so good,” he finally stops and you press your legs together to stop him from returning. he’s pressing kisses to your body, your thighs and your stomach up to your neck and cheeks as he mumbles praises into your skin. his hand runs through your hair, pushing the sweaty locks that were stuck to your forehead out of the way so he could press a final, sweet kiss to your forehead. “so good for me. so pretty, my precious pet.”
and even as he takes care of you, cleans you up and helps you back into your clothes and feeds you water, you’re holding back a smirk. because he thinks he has the upper hand, he thinks he won, but you can guarantee that he’ll be knocking at your door before the week is over.
#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles#bang chan smut#bang chan imagines#bang chan x female reader#chan x reader
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Kakashi doing the shadow clone jutsu and you get doubled teamed 😩
— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!
all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + probably dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. noncon, dub con, and other triggering content may be present, read with caution ( enjoy your experience <3 )
what about… gangbanging you instead? hehehe !! kakashi’s always wanted to see you airtight— stuffed with cock in every hole, watching you take as many cocks as you could possibly handle at once, and he’s told you so many times before, but you were always apprehensive. even if he was involved and even if the other men were his friends, it still felt like cheating.
“besides, you know i love the way you feel. i don’t want to have sex with anyone else.”
well, now, Kakashi had an idea.
and of course he waits until you’ve already cum once; riding his cock, rocking back and forth with your palms planted on his thighs. with your head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes closed, you don’t see it happen, but you felt a similar grip on your face, jerking your head to the side— his thumb pressing into your jaw to force it open. you let out a startled moan, cut short by a mouthful of cock.
“Mmmff!!”
both hands flee to reach for the obstruction, before your arms are hooked, under the elbow, by two much stronger ones, and brought together behind you. your eyes flicker upwards to see who your assailant is, only to find a mirror of Kakashi staring back at you. you glance, panicked, to the man you’re perched atop, and see that you’re not crazy. you’re still riding Kakashi.
“have i fucked you silly already?” his familiar, playful purr vibrates against the shell of your ear, and you shudder, realizing that the man holding you from behind must also be Kakashi’s twin. “you look so confused. you really don’t know what i did? think long and hard, pretty girl.”
and then it dawned on you what he’d done. with a muffled, moan of approval, you clamp your mouth harder around your lover’s cloned cock, sucking until your eyes crossed.
“uh-huh, that’s the look i wanted. you said you loved the way i feel, right? that you only want to fuck me?” you mewl, gargling on him, a half coherent affirmation, and he chuckles, raspy and wanton. you feel the second clone, the one at your back, worm his way between your asscheeks, spit-slicked cock head pushing up against the ring. luckily, you were so sensitive from cumming that you spasmed and wiggled, pushing back to impale yourself with the second cock.
you whine. the stretch is so incredible, the fullness mind blowing. and, when you open your eyes, scanning the room, you could see a multitude of Kakashi clones, all lined up, stroking their identical cocks, waiting their turns to decimate you.
“good, then i’ll just see how many of me it takes to break you, pretty girl.”
#doll’s dizzy drabblin’ ⟡#I know that like they’re technically shadows ya know BUT LET ME DREAM OKAY#kakashi x reader#kakashi#kakashi smut#kakashi hatake#kakashi hatake x you#kakashi hatake x reader#kakashi hatake smut#naruto#naruto x reader#naruto x you#naruto smut
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9. breath of fresh air
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter nine of do me yourself
summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.3k
chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n.
an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.
prev chapter | series masterlist
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
Baby, where are you?
I’m coming now just needed to get some plants.
If you’re the forest on wheels coming towards me line up somewhere else.
Wow, that's mean, Morales.
I am. But also, that’s a fuck load of plants.
It is and we’re going to have so much fun naming them.
Surrounded by unopened boxes, and paint tins that are due to be put on the wall, you both sit cross-legged on the floor of your soon-to-be office floor.
It's hard to stop it, the smile which spreads across your lips. The scent of fast food flows from your ripped-open bag and his neatly opened one, as you watch him turn his cap backwards and dig a hand into the paper bag as he pulls out a sauce pot.
Of course, he still finds a second to glare at the plant behind you.
“It’s up for debate, but french fries might be the way to my soul.”
Dipping his own into the sauce, he smirks. “What’s the other contender?”
You, you think.
It's there, threaded inside of you. Sewn in now. Stitched so deep into you that he’ll be remembered forever, no matter what.
Meeting his eyes mid-chew, the word you reverbing around your skull. Echoing. Practically marking itself against any surface space it can in there.
“Your mouth.”
Choking, his hand is quick to cover his mouth, eyes alarmed, quickly filling with tears as he continues to hack. Sliding his drink towards him, across the floor of the project that brought him here today.
“You can’t…” he begins, taking another mouthful, “Do that to me.”
Smirking, you grab another handful of fries. “From the gleam in your eyes, I say you like it.”
“I am not gleaming.”
“No? Damn, I’m disappointed.”
Rolling his eyes, he nudges you with his foot—your eyes glancing at the dinosaur-covered socks for the twelfth time since he’s been here.
“Luca has good taste in socks.”
“You’re telling me,” he replies, “I also have Batman ones, some cartoon ones and ones with flowers on.”
Smiling, you continue to chew. “Which ones are your favourite.”
Scrunching up the paper your food came in, you throw it into the bag. Watching him take a final bite of his own as you smirk.
“It’s the flower ones, isn’t it?”
“Definitely the flower ones.”
Laughing, tongue peeking between your teeth, you lean back on your hands, legs outstretched. “Saving them for a special occasion?”
Nodding, he takes another slurp of his drink, feeling his eyes drag up and down your legs. “Thought I could wear them for when I woo you later on this week.”
“Yeah? You want to model your socks for me, Morales.”
“Dinner and a show I heard is the perfect date night.”
Wiping his hands on his napkin, he stares at you—clean hand on your ankle, massaging it.
“You keep doing that, and we won’t be building furniture.”
Groaning, he sighs. All deep, layered with confliction—until he whispers it: after. It’s low, practically dragged through the gravel of his voice by the time it reaches your ear. Heat spreading through your stomach, not able to tear your eyes from him, just thankful that he does when he goes to stand.
A moment of reprieve, a chance to collect yourself.
That is, until he stretches out his hand, sliding yours into it as he pulls you up to stand. For a moment, just paused—staring at him, a tuft of curls poking through under the rim of his hat.
“I told you how handsome you are,” you say, arms sliding around his neck, leaning close—just enough, to press your mouth to his. “Cause you are.”
Biting the edge of his lip, he smirks. “I’ve got a utility knife in my pocket.”
“Oh?”
Brows lifting, grinning, Frankie pulls you closer. “You into that?”
“On you? Fuck yeah.”
Your lips glide over his, tasting the salt from his fries and the onion from his burger. Not caring, not as you hold him close, keeping him flush, deepening it until he clutches your jaw, walking you both back, kicking a box.
“Fuck.”
Almost laughing, you smirk. “We should…”
Tongue swiping over his lip, Frankie nods. Gaze unmoving even as you step back, bending to tidy the wrappers and bags as you glance back periodically.
“What?”
Shaking his head, he shrugs one shoulder, eyes widening as he smiles. “Nothing. Jus’… hurry back.”
It leaves your lips breathlessly, the word sure. It flows through the air to him, before you leave the room, before giddiness swallows and smothers you up. A grin not easily wiped by your knee connecting with the cabinet as you skid into the kitchen. Dousing your hands in cold water, hoping the temperature will touch your cheeks and cool them.
Thinking of him waiting near the checkout—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his worn
You do. Almost skidding in your kitchen when you throw the trash away, pausing at the sink to wash your hands, before you’re casually walking back. Doing so, just in time to see him slide that knife along the flat-pack furniture, unboxing the drawers—staring at them all crouched wearing a furrowed expression with an IKEA pencil behind his ear.
And you’re glad he doesn’t look up at the doorway, because it gives you a minute, to lean, head resting as your heart skips a step, feeling all large and full and full of happiness. A feeling, one surging up inside of you—full of lightness and truth—swirling around your breath and trying to form into words.
But, then he looks at you. Lifts his chin, the biggest brown eyes smoothing out to look at you—and you’re sure the words are going to rip out of your throat. Forced to greet the air, and burn themselves into it.
I really like you, Frankie.
I really, really do.
Each letter swallowed back, sight dropping to the knife he holds back—an act you’re apparently quite into from the way you feel the heat in your stomach, a little ripple of want starting to stir as you slowly edge your way into the room. Listening, hanging onto his words as he offers suggestions of how the two of you can do this.
It’s why it makes sense, at first, when he asks if you’d begin building the drawers while he begins the carcass. His toolbox he’d brought in with him opening, pulling various tools you’re not sure were listed on the instructions.
It continues to make sense until you realise you began constructing the drawer, incorrectly. A disappointed voice ebbing, beginning to nip. It breeds in doubt as you study the paper again, and again. Mouth opening and promptly shutting as you try to make heads or tails of what should be a very easy thing.
But that means confessing you’re about as hopeless at building as you are at the rest of the DIY project.
Peering at the instructions again, you try not to sigh. Try not to let a heavier exhale escape through your nostrils, and possibly showcase your growing anxiety-brewed annoyance.
Because you hope he’s not having you build drawers because it’s easier. Because he views you as this hopeless thing that can’t be taught. Even if, in some ways, that assumption would be correct. You just hope that it isn’t pity or any other negative connotation that has begun popping into your mind and bursting behind your eyes in sorrowful falling dark-hued confetti.
An increasing need to prove yourself rising, flooding you as though it wishes to drown you. Making it hard to swallow, never mind breathe—eyes glancing down as they begin to burn with worry, with annoyance and a lot of other emotions you’re struggling to handle—
“Hey,” he says, soothing—hand cupping your cheek as you're tilted up from diagrams to his eyes.
The ones that soothe, that calm—that feel like a safe place.
“Hi.”
Slowly smiling, he strokes your skin. A thing you’re not sure you’ll ever tire from. Not ever. Not as long as his eyes remain as kind and full of warmth.
“I was calling out for you.”
“I’m so—“
“Wondered,” he continues, interrupting, burying your apology before it meets land and plants itself, “If you wanted a go at helping me build this bit.”
Swallowing, both the emotions that remain fizzing and the worries, you smile. “You sure? I’m not… this isn’t something I’m good at.”
“That’s why I’m helping. To teach you, right?”
Nodding, you grin when his lips find your forehead, helping you up before grabbing something from his toolbox. If newer, shinier than the one you’d seen him using—a colour as close to the one you’d said was your favourite.
“Did you buy me a tool, Butterscotch?”
Scratching the back of his head, he tries not to blush. A thing you can tell from the way he averts his eyes, and pink creeps up his neck. “Yeah, it was nothing. Just thought it be easier for you to have your own.”
“My own… prodding device?”
Shaking his head, his eyes land on you. “It’s an electric screwdriver.”
“Of course it is, I was testing you.”
Snorting, he grabs a piece of wood, bringing it between the two of you. “I almost believe you.”
You think Harry would hire me even if I know absolutely nothing about hardware or tools?
To annoy me, most probably.
You doing okay?
Not really.
They want more tweaks?
Yeah. I don’t mind making the changes, but wish they’d been more clear from the beginning. So I don’t feel like a failure.
You want me to call in half an hour? Can try and make you smile.
You make me smile effortlessly. But no, it’s okay. I’m going to enjoy a shower and have an early night. Sleep off my bad mood and rest my muscles from building all that furniture the other day.
You goof.
A goof who has your toolbox and her own electric tightener.
That will sound so wrong to anyone else.
Especially if I tell them it goes with my bedside power tools.
Are they what I think they are?
Maybe.
Fuck.
Put thoughts in my head now.
Do I look hot?
Always.
Will you message me in the morning?
Of course, baby. Try not to dream of me.
Impossible, baby.
Just got out of the movies, was able to eat half the popcorn tub before a jump scare made it mysteriously land on the floor.
Do butter-caked fingers have anything to do with it?
No. I believe the leading cause was a mean friend picking a movie that they knew would scare me. The jury is still out on whether I could have saved the popcorn if properly notified of the jump scares.
You both have fun though?
Yes, a lot. Even if I won’t sleep for a week.
I’m excited to see you tomorrow. I’ve missed you.
You’ve missed me?
Try not to grin too much, Morales.
Too late for that, Rainy. I've missed you too.
I've missed butter-SCOTCH fingers.
Can tell me how much later, if you want?
Do you want to phone sex with me, Morales?
I think I'd rather make you wait till tomorrow when I see you.
Now who's mean.
It’s hard to avoid the smile on your face, even in the fogged-up mirror. Water dripping down your neck, collecting in the towel wrapped around your chest as Frankie presses his lips to your hairline.
“You feelin' clean, baby?”
“I don't think what we just did in your shower could constitute as cleaning, Butterscotch.”
Smirking, skin radiating heat, Frankie tips your chin up, mouth sliding back over yours like he had done when the two of you had stepped under the shower. The intention innocent, until hungry eyes raked over bare skin.
"Robe's on the back of my bedroom door, baby," he whispers, leaving you to finish drying in his bathroom.
As though it’s normal, routine.
Your toothbrush beside his—the products you’d packed in your overnight bag on the side of the counter.
It's a thing that makes your teeth bite down on your lip and your fingers retraced the path he drew against the suds on your skin. Thinking about how the water fell down along his jaw, ran down between your bodies as he hiked your leg up—
You jump when a clatter pulls you to the present. Heart fluttering, body resting against the side of the basin as your breath dances with the steam. Even if he's rooms away, you hear him singing.
It travelling, calling to you.
A soundtrack to you re-dressing as you hang the used towel on the hook, sliding some clean clothes on, before padding out to wrap the robe around you and grab his t-shirt from the bed.
With each step to the kitchen, you're aware of how your body smells of his body wash. A scent you wish your skin only ever smells like now, if it can’t be his aftershave. Just so you could have a piece of him, a thing to go with the texts, phone calls and video chats when the two of you find moments in between the busy.
There's no need for that tonight, not as he’s cooking for you.
Shoulder resting against the door, you find yourself not wanting to announce your arrival. Just take in his frame, how his back is to you, allowing you to watch how his muscles flex along his bare back as he grabs a knife from a drawer.
“You know, if you posted this kind of video on your Instagram, I think you'd beat that one where you're showing people how to paint wood."
Glancing over his shoulder, you hold the top up. His face shifts into gratitude as he drops what's in his hand and takes it from you. Simple, a very nothing thing that his face seems to show the opposite of.
He fidgets uncomfortably, the shyest smile trying to appear. “Shut up.”
“While you were very informative about preparing the wood before beginning in that video, I think I know how you got one hundred thousand views in a weekend.”
Smirking, he folds his arms. “Because you watched it on repeat while you missed me?”
“No,” you grin, watching him run his tongue over his teeth to stop himself from smirking. “You like to do a little thot-shot.”
“A what-what?”
Licking your lips, leaning against the wall, watching his fingers run up and down his bicep, arms still folded. “You wipe your face with the bottom of your t-shirt, Morales. Showing off your… physique.”
“Mierda.”
“You look very good. Had to watch it myself a few times, to be sure.”
His eyes dart away, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I mean it,” you add. “You look really good, Frankie.”
Stepping forward, you kiss his cheek. The heat from it warms your lips as you try to hide your grin. Instead, pulling out a stool from under his island and sliding onto it, elbow on the worktop, you rest your chin. Watching him turn, facing back to the ingredients and pans.
That's when you spot it. The loose curl that has fallen over his forehead as he leans forward. It just hanging there. Slowly beginning to sway as he resumes chopping and slicing.
“What're you making me?”
“Special asado tacos.”
It’s hard to suppress the whimper in the back of your throat as your stomach rumbles, his chin lifting—brow raising as you try to clear your throat.
“Sounds delicious… what makes them special? Is it the chef?”
Smirking, he shakes his head. “It’s a family recipe. So, I hope I don’t fuck it up.”
“I doubt you could, right? It’s in your bones.”
Shrugging, he stares down at some paper—his pinky flattening it, before he brushes the chopped peppers into a pan and grabs something else.
“I don’t make it often.”
“How many times have you?”
Pausing, he doesn’t look up. Just stops his knife over the skin of the vegetable.
“Frankie. Is this the first time you’ve made it?”
“No,” he answers. Quickly, red rising up his neck. “It’s just… the first time I’ve made it for someone.”
Licking your lips, you smile—fingers outstretching over his counter, it cool under your touch. “Oh, you like me, like me.”
Smirking, he continues to chop and dice, shooting glances at you. “Maybe.”
“I think you do.”
The precision he cuts with makes you almost forget your teasing—your own name, even. The quickness of it, the perfect way they’re all cut. It’s enough to make your thighs press, a new competency unlocked it seemed—as though you were both collecting and becoming aware of them all at once.
Distantly, you hear your name. Briefly aware as you flick your gaze up, of the concern etched there—the sudden silence damning.
“Hm?”
Grinning, shaking his head as he slides the chopped food away. “I said, what makes you say that?”
Sighing, all deep—almost soothing, you smile. “Well, you named all my new plants with me.”
“I did do that.”
Nodding, you roll your lips as he uses his little finger to trace down the recipe in front of him.
“And you didn’t judge me for the fact they all needed a name.”
Casting a glance your way, he both frowns and smiles simultaneously. “Baby… I’d… I’d never.”
“I know,” you say, encased in confidence, sitting up straighter, “Because you like me.”
Shrugging, he begins moving around, collecting ingredients—the back of his hand brushing over his forehead. “Maybe you’re on to something.”
Humming, you shift on your stool—watching. Finding it hard not to keep your eyes on him, not as he moves around confidently, capably, sprinkling things in and adding pinches of others.
It isn’t until he seems more content, that things are doing what they’re supposed to, do you slip from the stool. Moving towards him, sliding between him and the worktop as your fingers brush over his cheek—an act so similar to the shower, before his hand slid between your thighs and made you struggle to stand.
“I like you too,” you whisper.
His eyebrows raise at the suggestion, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Is that so?” he asks. “Well, guess if we both like one another, that means I am allowed to ask something…”
Sucking in air through your teeth, you scrunch your nose. “I don't know, do you think you're allowed?”
Pinching your side softly, he smiles. “I wanted to ask... what we are, what are we?”
Narrowing your eyes, you roll your lips, fingers continuing to twist his curls around your nails. “What do you want me to be?”
Shrugging, he smiles—eyes slowly crinkling, all slow in the way they eventually narrow, mouth parting, basking you in human-made sunshine.
“You want me to be yours?”
He groans, it vibrating through you, hips rolling against his as he presses you to the counter. Body somehow humming, even after earlier.
“Want to be mine, Francisco?”
His hand grasps your hip more intently. “More than anything.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Nodding, you tug him closer too, bodies flush, little space between the two of you. “All yours.”
His nose slides against your cheek, before his forehead rests on yours. His eyes almost blend into one large brown oasis—almost.
“Now I’m your girlfriend, do I get extra privileges?”
Frowning, he steps to the side, stirring the cooking food—one hand on your hip, as though not wanting you to move.
“You know, show me how to use your power tools?”
Snorting, he rolls his eyes. “You say mine like others are different.”
Smirking, looking at him with the most innocent eyes you can fake, taking his hand in yours. “They’re different from mine.” Frowning, he stares for a second, seemingly baffled. “Mine aren’t used to build things, rather… make legs shake and make me cry out your name.”
You hear his swallow, as well as see it.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he lies, stirring again. “Jus... Y’just incredible.”
Picking up a piece of pepper, you smile—all wicked. “Oh, I know. And aren’t you lucky I’m yours?”
THEY'RE BACK, GOD I'VE MISSED THEM. next week, we enter a spicy chapter (muhaha) and a nice little announcement about them too.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales#triple frontier x reader#francisco morales fanfiction#triple frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#francisco catfish morales x reader#catfish morales x reader#pedrostories#jo: dmy#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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Jadeee you are feeding us well today (screw those anons) if you’re still taking requests i thought the “would you still love me as a worm” prompt was funny and am curious to see Steve’s version if possible? If you’re not taking requests, so sorry!
hi! tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader
Steve arrives with a shout and a loud bang. You glance up from your book, ear turned to the stairs as he hisses a swear.
"You okay?" you call.
He swears again. "Hey! I forgot you were coming over tonight."
You lounge in his bed in pyjamas he bought for you, your hair out of your face, completely at home. "Your bed is more comfortable than mine."
Steve bounds up the steps from the sounds of it, mildly breathless but beaming as he passes the threshold and launches himself at you. You shriek as he crushes the pages of your book between you, his hands needling under your back and his weight on your stomach. "You're freezing!" you yelp, trying to squirm away.
He's too determined. "God, I'm happy you're here. I'm thinking, fuck, I miss my baby, I wonder if she'll answer my calls tonight or if I'll have to beg–"
"Yeah, because I usually make you beg to see me." You brush the hair from his face, eyes narrowed at him playfully.
Steve shifts his weight to keep the majority of it off of you, one leg sliding between yours and the other on the outside of your thigh. His lips are as cold as his hands but gentle as he kisses you, misaligned, your bottom lip clearly catching his attention. "I would've," he murmurs between soft kissing, his nose brushing yours as he raises higher. "Would've done anything."
"Lucky you, I never make a pretty boy beg," you say, his breath warming your lips. You stay like that for two seconds, three, eyes closed and breathing in the other.
He gives you a quick peck before settling in the curve of your neck. "This is awesome. Friday night party. Oh! And I've been meaning to ask you something so it's perfect that you're right here, Robin asked me and I wanted to ask you because I was thinking about it in the car…" He loses concentration, his hand stroking up behind your shoulder, as if to say, Hey, I got you.
"Did you get much sleep last night?" you ask, bemused.
"Totally…" He fakes a snore.
"Steve. What did you want to ask me?"
"Oh, yeah." He picks himself up from your neck. You must look squished, soft-jawed and unmade, but Steve doesn't look any less in love than usual. "Would you still love me as a worm?"
"What?" you ask, stroking his cheek with the back of your pinky. "Do you want to shower before you go totally dumb on me?"
"I'm serious, this is a serious question. And I only want to shower if you're coming with me, but this is important. Would you love me if I was a worm?"
"Yeah, Steve. Of course I would." You smile as he smiles, tandem beaming that feels silly but good. "Why would you be a worm, though?"
"See, this is what I asked Rob, and she said that doesn't matter but it doesn't make any sense. I told her I'd love her if she was a worm and she said she wouldn't love me because bugs give her the heebies. That's sick, right?"
"Well, would you love me if I was?" you ask.
"Are you stupid?" Steve noses at your neck, words said in tiny bursts of heat on your skin, "I'd turn myself into a worm to be with you forever."
"Now I feel like I should've said that."
"No way. I loved how little you hesitated," he praises. Like a cat nuzzling a post, his hair tickles you. "If we were worms together we wouldn't have to work. We'd spend all day hugging."
"Ew, all slithered together," you say, delighted.
"Twisted around each other. Not not like this," he says, kissing your cheek sweetly. "We'd be the best worms ever. Me and you."
You encourage him off of you to rescue your murdered paperback. Steve rolls onto his back, please smile lingering as he stretches out and sighs with relief. He needs a shower, and a shoulder massage, or a naked back rub while you watch TV. You'll order takeout, eat it with wet hair from the shower and ankles locked on the couch.
"I'm glad we're not worms," you say, sitting up. Steve meets your eyes, his brown and dark in the dim lighting. "I really love us right now. I love you."
You kiss his forehead.
"I'll go get the shower running, okay?" you ask, climbing from the bed.
Steve's voice comes quiet and hoarse as he calls after you, "I love you too!"
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington drabble#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things 4
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• established relationship
•Genre: smut
You’re in the lonesome bathroom of the party correcting your makeup when Rin suddenly makes his way through the door. He hastily closes it behind him. How it wasn’t locked? You have no idea.
You expected his arrival, just not as grand as this. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t new to always call and find each other as if seeking refuge. The mirror reflects his hands trudging up his face to brush through his hair, meanwhile the mascara wand waved idly in your hand when you quipped, “Who ya running from?”
A course “Nobody” was all you received. You thought he’d just come in and sit on the toilet seat to talk or waste time with you.
Finding a stopping point, you turned to him and your fresh eyes trailed his body leaning on the door. He looked paler than usual, dark hair falling over his weaker, heavily red-tinted face. The mascara clicked into the bottle and tightened as you twisted.
“Rin are…are you okay?”
He sighed and one hand fell to the doorknob while the other fell to his pocket.
“…If I’m being completely honest, no. Come here please,” he huffed out. He was breathless like he rushed up here to you. You guess it was a random call from him that you put on speaker over the trap music, however, you didn’t ask why he needed to see you so instantaneously.
You took slow, incredulous footsteps forward to his chest in the already tight space. Clearly you weren’t fast enough because he cupped your face—both hands—and tugged you close.
“Look at me,” he ordered. Your eyes focused on each of his earnestly. “You know I love you right?”
“Yes.” A distrusting countenance slowly morphed onto your face, matching your previous steps.
“You know you look so fucking good, right?”
“…Rin where is this-“
“-I think my drink was spiked. My drink was spiked with something and I’m saying I’m sorry now because I am just one fucking word away from bending you over this counter. It needs to be yours.”
Your cheeks flushed red as you examined his face again, confirming he did look a little sick. Except not the coughing sick; the lightheaded, desperate need that can make you delusional sick. You were terrified to look down.
“But won’t that stuff still be in your system? you need to throw it up or something before-“
“I can’t be sure but it doesn’t feel out of the ordinary, like a viagra or something. I’ll do whatever you want after. Just need to be inside of you in the next ten seconds before I pass out.”
He was rambling in a pitch slightly higher than usual, desperation seeping off his words. His chest motioned up and down with each difficult breath he took gazing into your eyes, upturned brows not-very-patiently awaiting your response. Hey, it was a party after all.
You kept your eyes trained but turned to give yourself up to him.
The slim eyes lit up. A single palm forced you down by the middle of your upper back, effectively bending you over. He did it so swiftly you could’ve taken it as routine.
Hands situated and caressed your waist in admiration, hips following suit as you pressed them back into him. His fingertips dug holes through the sequin covered fabric and into your skin, the obvious print rubbed right between your legs with the dress flipped up, and the friction was sending him away.
Oh god he needed it so bad, all his hormones at peak and the first thing on his mind being you. He knew he needed to stretch you out and he knew how especially good that pretty pussy would taste spread for him on the counter, but his dick was quite literally throbbing.
He may have realized it a little late considering he had a high sex-drive anyway, but this was something completely different. He was so hard it hurt. So when he called you, shoving through people as you gave him your location in the house, he was already overheating from swarming throngs of people and the alcohol swimming through his blood.
So when your slit rolled perfectly over him he had to undo his pants immediately.
“I can leave it to you to wear no panties to a party.”
“Gotta give ‘em a show,” you giggle.
With the clank of his belt and its drop to the floor, he taunted, “Only one of us is taking the show home.”
Suna was already a pretty impatient person, so when a finger dipped into you slow and welcoming he had to add another. A squelch sound came from the way he pumped into you as if you were already ready to take him.
#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu headcanons#haikyu x reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu hcs#god i want him so bad#suna rintaro#suna x reader#haikyuu suna#suna headcanons#suna imagines#suna smut#suna rintaro haikyuu#suna rintarō#suna haikyuu#rintarou suna#suna rintaro x reader
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Meet Me After Class
Pairing: Gym Teacher!Dean Winchester x History Teacher!Reader
Word Count: 790
Summary: Of course he's decided to bother you while you're grading papers.
Warning(s): Smut. Smut. Sex.
A/N: One of my friends challenged me to do this, so I finished this in one night. :3
I am an 18+ Blog.
You groan softly as you shake your head, marking another answer wrong on a students paper. You didn't understand, you had pushed the test back by a week to better help your students prepare, yet they didn't utilize any of the extra time correctly. You know for a fact that this student probably didn't know what class this was.
You knew once you passed these exams back, and your students saw their grades, you'd be their worst enemy.
You rub your hand down your face, popping your wrists before stretching backwards. Your back pops in a few places before you melt, dropping your arms and preparing yourself to get back to grading. A glance to the clock on the wall tells you that you've been in your classroom for an hour and a half since the final bell rang.
A knock at your classroom door startles you, a stray mark now on the essay question in bright red ink. You scoff, capping the pen before pushing out your chair, walking towards the door, your lanyard jingling with every movement.
Dean smiles, holding a bag of takeout. You look at it, before slowly dragging your gaze to his face, your hand on the door still.
"What's this?" You ask, your brows furrowed.
"Food." He says simply, stepping into the classroom. He's no longer in his usual Gym attire, having changed into his usual jeans and T-shirt, though the whistle still lingers around his neck. You think he probably went home, got food, and came back to work. "You know Food, right? You eat it." He teases.
You can't hold back your groan, rolling your eyes before going to your desk. He pushes the door closed behind him as he enters the room, jiggling the handle to confirm it's locked. You crash into your chair, and it rolls backwards. You take your lanyard off, tossing it onto the desk as you pick your legs up to set your feet on your desk, careful to not step on the papers.
"Thought we weren't supposed to put our feet on the furniture?" He taps your foot as he sits on your desk.
"We're not supposed to put our asses on tables either, but I'm not getting onto you about it right now." You snap halfheartedly, hand out as he puts a burger wrapped in tin foil onto your palm. Still warm.
He wastes no time in devouring his own burger, grease running down his fingers, no regard for the sauce on the corner of his mouth. You scoff out a chuckle, opening your own meal.
You both eat in silence, well, at least you do. He can't seem to stop himself from making obscene noises for his burger.
"You're always working," He finally comments, tossing the wrapper in the trash, wiping his face.
"Well, I actually have to *work* at my job, so." You grin sarcastically, tossing your trash at his face. He takes it in stride, catching it and tossing it into the trash.
"I work!" He defends himself.
"No you don't!" You guffaw. "You get paid to make students stay in shape, but you don't do the same."
"I work out regularly!" He points out. "My stamina is amazing."
"As if."
-
The desk is hard against your chest, your hands gripping the sides hard. The wood furniture scrapes against the floor harshly with every rough thrust from behind you. His jeans rub the skin on the back of your thighs as he fucks into you.
"What was that?" He asks, a cocky grin on his face as he positions his head next to yours. "What'd you say about my stamina?"
"Shut up-" You choke out, whining as you scrape your nails against the wood.
"I can't hear you." He teases, biting your ear lobe, tugging roughly. You almost squeal, but you clamp a hand over your mouth, knowing you couldn't possibly be the only two people left in the school.
He's so damn talkative, never knowing how to shut the fuck up and just fuck you.
You push yourself up, turning your torso to grab the whistle around his neck. His eyes widen as you jerk it forward to connect your lips to his. He eagerly returns your kiss, kissing you just as sloppily as he eats his food.
His thrusts turn sloppy, his chest stuttering with every shaky breath. His saliva drools into your open mouth, and eagerly you swallow.
His grip tightens on your hips, body shuddering one last time with three final deep thrusts. He stays seated within you, collecting himself, the whistle jingling as you let go.
"Fuck-" You mutter, kissing him one last time. "Maybe your stamina is fine."
"Just fine?"
"We'll have to test this again."
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#x reader#x reader smut#reader insert smut#reader insert#gender neutral reader#supernatural x reader#spn x reader#teacher au#gym teacher dean winchester#dean winchester au#supernatural au#x reader au#smut
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