slut4calum

[slut4calum]

Hasanabi: Teacher's Assistant

Halfway through junior year, and the finish line was starting to shimmer in the distance. Just push through this final year, the mountain of exams, the stress-fueled ramen nights, and then it would be freedom. Freedom from textbooks, freedom from professors' drone-like lectures, freedom from the constant pressure to prove yourself. But for now, there was only the present, the slightly stale air of lecture hall B-12, and the prospect of three more hours grappling with the intricacies of 17th-century French literature.

My first class, European Romanticism, was familiar territory. Professor Dubois, with his tweed jacket and perpetually surprised eyebrows, was practically an old friend after two semesters of dissecting Byron's angst and Wordsworth's musings on daffodils. The next two classes, however, were uncharted waters: Medieval Art History, where I desperately hoped the professor wouldn't quiz us on the difference between Romanesque and Gothic arches, and Advanced Genetics, where the potential for complex Punnett squares already had my head spinning.

By the time I stumbled into my fourth class, PSC 419: The Political Effects of Globalization, I was ready for a nap. But the exhaustion evaporated the moment I saw Dr. Kemp. He was tiny, a sprite of a man with twinkling eyes and a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. As he outlined the syllabus, his voice was a warm rumble, like well-aged whiskey swirling in a glass. And then, the door creaked open, and my heart did a triple flip.

"Ah, Mr. Piker," Dr. Kemp welcomed, "Nice of you to join us. Class, this is your TA, Hasan. Hasan is working on his PhD in political science here, Hasan, what are your office hours this semester?"

The man who walked in was…well, breathtaking. Dark hair tousled by invisible hands, eyes that held the glint of mischief and intelligence, and a smile that could charm the sunrise. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, yeah, pretty packed schedule this semester, so just email me if you need to meet up, and we'll find a time."

That was it? No booming baritone introductions, no grand plans for interactive seminars? Just a mumbled email address and an evasion of office hours? Disappointment flickered across my face, quickly masked by a cough. Dr. Kemp chuckled.

"First day and already zoning out, Ms. Y/N? We have a lot to cover this semester, globalization is a tangled web, isn't it?"

He launched into a whirlwind explanation of the coursework, detailing everything from intricate trade agreements to the rise of populist movements. I tried to focus, tried to decipher the complexities of cultural homogenization and international power struggles, but Hasan kept drifting into my vision. His hand resting on the lectern, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the playful glint in his eyes as he met Dr. Kemp's gaze. My mind was a chaotic dance floor, Professor Kemp's words mere background music to the silent symphony of possibilities playing out in my head.

The rest of the class passed in a blur. Charts of global trade flows morphed into Hasan's sculpted jawline, intricate political maps became sketches of his smile. Finally, the class ended, the sweet release from academia and its alluring distractions. As everyone shuffled out, I lingered, hoping for a chance encounter, a stolen glance, anything to break the spell before it consumed me whole. But Hasan was already gone, swallowed by the labyrinthine corridors of the university, leaving behind only the faint echo of his name and the intoxicating image of him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes holding mine for a single, lingering moment.

My legs finally stumbled out of lecture hall B-12, the weight of the day settling on my shoulders like a damp backpack. My notebooks bulged with scribbled notes and half-formed insights, remnants of the academic marathon I'd just run. Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids, urging them shut, but the phantom heat of Hasan's gaze still pulsed beneath my skin. Could his name become a mantra tonight, a whispered incantation against the inevitable sleep that beckoned? Would I dream of power dynamics and trade imbalances, or would his face, framed by that dark, tousled hair, be the only image etched in my subconscious mind?

Dinner in the cafeteria was a blur of lukewarm pasta and whispered gossip about the new TA. My roommates peppered me with questions, but my answers were mumbled monosyllables, my attention already caught in the web of possibilities Hasan had woven around me. Even the rhythmic thrum of the washing machine sounded like a heartbeat, my chest pounding a primal rhythm against my ribs.

Finally, curled up in my bed, surrounded by the familiar chaos of textbooks and half-eaten candy wrappers, I felt a strange mix of exhilaration and trepidation. Junior year might be about finishing lines, but with Hasan lurking on the horizon, the only finish line I could see was the one blurring the edges of my consciousness, pulling me toward a dream where textbooks and exams dissolved into the intoxicating haze of his smile. One thing was certain – this semester, at least, was going to be anything but smooth sailing.

The Tuesday morning sun peeked through my blinds, but the usual jolt of caffeine-fueled urgency was missing. Today, with only CJ 290: Criminal Theories on my schedule, the pressure valve hissed a sigh of relief. Professor Evans, a woman with a penchant for dissecting motives and questioning morals, was never one for early morning torture sessions. I lingered in bed, savoring the luxury of stolen minutes, my mind a tangled mess of globalization, trade agreements, and, more persistently, Hasan's captivating eyes.

My day unfolded in a leisurely waltz, devoid of the usual academic frenzied pace. I drifted through a bookstore, getting lost in the labyrinth of dusty spines and the promise of new worlds, then indulged in a leisurely lunch in the park, watching squirrels chase each other across the sun-dappled grass. But even the chirping birds and rustling leaves couldn't drown out the persistent hum of his name in my head. He was a phantom presence, whispering possibilities around every corner, making the mundane seem vibrant with anticipation.

As dusk began to paint the sky in hues of orange and purple, I found myself drawn to the familiar warmth of the campus dining hall. My heart did a somersault when my gaze landed on a familiar figure seated at a corner table. It was Hasan, his head bent over a book, his brows furrowed in concentration. My breath hitched, and I instinctively ducked behind a towering stack of trays, my heart pounding a frantic tattoo against my ribs. Should I approach him? Strike up a conversation about trade agreements or political philosophers? But the words caught in my throat, choked by the sudden shyness that bloomed in my chest. I watched him from the shadows, a voyeur to his book-filled world, content with simply stealing glances of his coffee-sipping lips and the way the light played on his dark hair.

He was gone by the time I gathered the courage to emerge from my self-imposed exile. The dining hall was bustling, the hum of conversation washing away the quiet intimacy of my stolen observation

. I left with a pang of disappointment, the taste of his unspoken presence lingering on my tongue, a sweet-sour mystery I couldn't quite decipher. As I lay in my bed, I couldn't help but think of him. His tall, muscular body, piercing brown eyes, and the way his voice commanded attention in the lecture hall. I had been his student for the past semester and every time I saw him, I couldn't help but feel a surge of desire.

I know it's wrong. He's my TA, someone in a position of authority. But the more I tried to suppress my thoughts, the more they consumed me. I finally gave in to my fantasies. I closed my eyes and imagined him in my bed, his hands roaming my body, his lips on mine. I could feel the heat between my thighs as I thought of him undressing me, his touch igniting every nerve in my body. I ran my hands over my breasts, imagining his lips on them, sucking and flicking my nipples. My breathing became more rapid as I thought of him trailing kisses down my stomach, until he reached the place I craved him the most. I could practically feel his tongue teasing me, his fingers exploring every inch of me. My own fingers moved faster as I imagined him entering me, making me moan his name.

As I reached my peak, I couldn't help but scream out his name. I collapsed back onto my bed, panting and flushed. But my mind couldn't stop there. I needed more, I needed him. I imagined him holding me close, whispering dirty words in my ear as he continued to pleasure me. I wanted him to be rough, to dominate me. And in my mind, he did just that. That night, as I drifted off to sleep, the shadows behind my eyelids danced with the image of his smile, a silent promise of encounters to come, of a semester forever teetering between textbooks and stolen glances, between academic pursuits and the intoxicating allure of a TA with a name that was becoming my own personal forbidden fruit.

The Wednesday morning sun rose, casting a golden hue over the campus as I made my way to my first class of the day, EN 370: European Romanticism. Professor Dubois, with his tweed jacket and perpetually surprised eyebrows, greeted us with his usual enthusiasm, diving into the depths of Shelley and Keats with fervor. But my mind wandered, drifting back to Hasan and the tantalizing possibilities he represented. HY 346: Medieval Art History followed, the lecture hall echoing with the professor's passionate discourse on the intricacies of cathedral architecture. Yet, as I scribbled notes on flying buttresses and pointed arches, my thoughts strayed once more to the enigmatic figure of Hasan, his presence a magnetic pull that defied the boundaries of the classroom. BIO 243: Advanced Genetics brought with it the complexities of Punnett squares and genetic inheritance, but even as I grappled with alleles and phenotypes, Hasan's image lingered in the recesses of my mind, a persistent whisper of distraction amidst the academic clamor.

Finally, the moment I had been waiting for arrived as I stepped into PSC 419: The Political Effects of Globalization. Dr. Kemp's warm rumble filled the room, a soothing undertone that hinted at the depth of knowledge and experience lying just beneath the surface. "Good morning, everyone," he began, his voice carrying the weight of years spent navigating the intricate web of global politics. "Today marks the beginning of a journey into the heart of one of the most pressing issues of our time: globalization."

As he spoke, each word seemed to carry with it a sense of urgency, a call to action in the face of a rapidly changing world. "Globalization," he continued, "has reshaped the political landscape in ways we are only beginning to comprehend. From the rise of transnational corporations to the erosion of national sovereignty, its effects are far-reaching and profound." His words hung in the air, a silent invitation to delve deeper into the complexities of this modern-day phenomenon.

But even as Dr. Kemp expounded on the intricacies of trade agreements and cultural exchange, my attention was inexorably drawn to Hasan. His presence at the front of the room was like a magnet, pulling my gaze away from the professor's lecture and into a world of tantalizing possibilities. I found myself captivated by the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his lips curved into a half-smile as he listened to Dr. Kemp's words. I couldn't stop staring at Mr. Piker, wondering if he knew what I had done the night before. I tried to focus on the lecture, but my mind kept drifting back to the thoughts from the previous night.

"Hasan," Dr. Kemp's voice broke through my reverie, bringing me back to the present moment. "Would you care to share your thoughts on the role of globalization in shaping political ideologies?" Hasan's eyes met mine for a fleeting moment, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that crackled between us. "Uh, yes, of course," he replied, his voice steady despite the hint of surprise that flickered across his features. "Globalization has undoubtedly had a profound impact on political ideologies," he began, his gaze sweeping across the room. "It has facilitated the spread of ideas and information on an unprecedented scale, challenging traditional notions of sovereignty and identity." His words were measured, his tone confident as he delved into the complexities of the topic at hand. And yet, despite his obvious expertise, there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, a fleeting glimpse of the man behind the TA facade.

As Hasan spoke, I found myself hanging on his every word, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence. His voice was like a siren's song, drawing me deeper into the labyrinth of his thoughts and ideas. I couldn't tear my gaze away, couldn't shake the feeling that we were connected in some inexplicable way, bound together by the invisible threads of fate.

The rest of the class passed in a blur, the minutes slipping by unnoticed as Hasan and Dr. Kemp dissected the nuances of globalization and its political ramifications. I scribbled notes furiously, my mind racing to keep pace with the torrent of information flooding the room. But amidst the chaos of academia, one thing remained constant: Hasan's presence, a beacon of light in the murky depths of my subconscious.

As the class ended, I felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment wash over me. Relief that I could finally escape the confines of the lecture hall, but disappointment that I would have to wait until next week to see Hasan again. I lingered for a moment, watching as he gathered his belongings and made his way to the front of the room. Our eyes met briefly, a silent exchange that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered. And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving me to navigate the swirling currents of my thoughts alone.

As I made my way back to my dorm, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, that a door had been opened to a world of possibilities I had never dared to explore. Hasan had awakened something within me, a hunger for knowledge and connection that transcended the boundaries of the classroom. And as I lay in bed that night, the echo of his voice still ringing in my ears, I knew that this semester would be unlike any other, a journey into the unknown with Hasan as my guide.

Two weeks passed in a whirlwind of lectures, study sessions, and stolen glances. Despite my best efforts to focus on my studies, Hasan's enigmatic presence continued to linger in the back of my mind, a constant distraction amidst the academic chaos. But as the days flew by, the impending exam in PSC 419 loomed larger and larger on the horizon, a stark reminder of the need to buckle down and prepare.

The next time the class met, the atmosphere crackled with nervous energy. Dr. Kemp's warm rumble filled the room as he handed out the exam papers, his eyes flickering with a mixture of anticipation and gravity. "Alright, class, you’ll have 50 minutes to complete this exam," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "You may begin."

As the minutes ticked by, the rustle of papers and the scratch of pencils on paper filled the air, each stroke a testament to weeks of diligent preparation and late-night cramming sessions. I kept getting distracted by Hasan sitting at the front of the room, his gaze flicking across the rows of students, no doubt looking for any signs of cheating. Every time our eyes met, I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and excitement swirling in my chest.

Despite my nerves, I managed to focus on the exam, my mind racing to recall the intricacies of globalization and its political effects. But as I flipped through the pages, answering each question to the best of my ability, doubt crept in. Had I studied enough? Had I missed any crucial details? The uncertainty gnawed at me, a constant companion as the seconds ticked by.

As I gathered my belongings and made my way out of the lecture hall, a sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach. The weight of Hasan's gaze lingered on me, a silent reminder of the unspoken tension that simmered between us.

Friday came, and I anxiously awaited the exam results, a knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach. When Dr. Kemp finally handed back the papers, my heart sank as I saw the red mark glaring back at me. Hasan had failed me. Confusion and frustration swirled in my mind as I scanned through my answers, unable to comprehend where I had gone wrong.

Desperate for answers, I sought out a classmate to compare notes. To my disbelief, our answers aligned perfectly. Each question meticulously answered, every concept grasped with precision. With newfound resolve, I confronted Hasan, armed with evidence of my innocence.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I made my way to Hasan's office hours, determined to confront him about the unjust grade. As I entered his office, the air seemed charged with tension, the weight of our unspoken conflict hanging heavy between us. Hasan's eyes met mine, but there was no warmth in his gaze, only a guarded wariness that sent a chill down my spine.

I launched into my argument, laying out the evidence of my innocence with a conviction born of righteous indignation. But instead of engaging in a rational discourse, Hasan's demeanor grew increasingly defensive, his rebuttals growing more vehement with each passing moment. It was as if he were grasping at straws, desperate to deflect blame and avoid accountability for his actions.

As the minutes ticked by, it became painfully clear that Hasan had no intention of acknowledging his mistake, let alone rectifying it. His refusal to even entertain the possibility of an error left me feeling helpless and betrayed, a pawn in his reckless game of academic manipulation.

But then, as I prepared to leave, Hasan's tone shifted, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "There might be another way to resolve this," he said, his eyes locking with mine in a knowing gaze. My heart raced as I realized the implication of his words, the sudden surge of desire mingling with the lingering anger and frustration.

In that moment, I saw an opportunity to turn the tables, to reclaim control over the situation and emerge victorious. The thought of using my newfound leverage to secure a better grade both thrilled and terrified me, the line between right and wrong blurring in the heat of the moment.

With a tentative nod, I accepted Hasan's proposition, a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I realized the power I held in my hands. As we drew closer, the air crackling with anticipation, I knew that this was a gamble I was willing to take, consequences be damned. For in that fleeting moment of forbidden desire, I saw not only a chance to right a wrong but also a glimpse of the intoxicating allure of surrendering to temptation.

With a sense of both trepidation and excitement, I agreed to Hasan's proposition, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. As we drew closer, the air between us crackled with anticipation, the tension palpable as we stood on the precipice of a decision that would alter the course of our academic and personal lives.

Hasan's gaze bore into mine, dark and intense, as if searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. But all I could feel was a fierce determination, a resolve to seize control of the situation and emerge victorious, no matter the cost. The lines between right and wrong blurred in the heat of the moment, overshadowed by the intoxicating allure of forbidden desire.

Without a word, Hasan closed the distance between us, his touch sending shivers down my spine as he brushed his fingers against my cheek. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of us locked in a silent dance of longing and anticipation.

His lips met mine in a searing kiss, igniting a firestorm of passion that threatened to consume us both. With each touch, each caress, the boundaries that had once separated us melted away, leaving only the raw intensity of our desire.

As our bodies entwined, the air around us crackled with electricity, charged with the urgency of our shared longing. Hasan's hands roamed my body with a hunger that matched my own, igniting a wildfire of sensation that blazed through every nerve ending.

In that moment, all thoughts of exams and grades faded into obscurity, replaced by the primal need to surrender to the irresistible pull of desire. As Hasan's lips trailed down my neck, his touch setting my skin ablaze, I knew that there was no turning back.

With each passing moment, the intensity grew, building like a tidal wave ready to crash over us both. And when it finally hit, the sheer force of our passion left us breathless, tangled together in a web of tangled limbs and whispered promises.

Hasan's fingers found their way between my legs, trailing along the wetness that had welled up there. A gasp escaped my lips as his thumb circled around my clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through every nerve ending.

"You like that?" he growled in a low murmur against my ear.

I nodded eagerly, unable to form any coherent words as desire consumed every fiber of my being. The intensity grew with each passing second, building like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

Hasan's fingers explored my depths with a skill and finesse that left me breathless. The way he teased and pushed against my gates of pleasure, driving me to the edge of madness, was exquisite. My body clenched around his fingers, begging for release, but he held back just enough to keep me teetering on the precipice.

"Just like that," he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips. "You want me to fuck you so badly, don't you?"

I moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as desire coursed through my veins. The urgency within me grew with each passing moment, demanding satisfaction. But Hasan knew exactly how to wield power over me, to keep me desperate for him.

"No," he replied with a mocking tone. "You're not going to come yet." A flicker of frustration crossed my face as I struggled against his firm grip. He chuckled at my futile attempts to break free from his hold.

"Don't worry," he continued, his voice dripping with seduction. "I'll make you scream my name when I give you what you crave." His touch intensified, fingers pressing deeper inside me as if testing the strength of my walls.

The anticipation was unbearable, my body trembling with a mixture of impatience and ecstasy. "Fuck," I moaned, frustration coursing through my veins like wildfire.

Hasan smirked, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "Not just yet," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he slowly pulled his fingers out of me. My breath hitched in disappointment as I felt the ache deepen between my legs. "You're going to have to beg for it properly."

My hesitation mingled with defiance as I locked eyes with Hasan. He knew exactly how to push all of my buttons - the power he held over me was intoxicatingly dangerous. But even amidst the haze of desire, there was a flicker of reluctance deep within me.

"Please," I whispered hoarsely, barely able to form the words amidst the overwhelming need coursing through every inch of my body. Hasan chuckled darkly at my plea before pressing his lips against mine in a searing kiss.

With a swift movement, he lifted me up effortlessly and threw me over his desk. Sharp and dirty furniture scraped against my skin as I landed with a thud. The air crackled with anticipation as Hasan positioned himself at the entrance of my wetness.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice dripping with seduction. My heart raced in response, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through me like electricity.

I nodded eagerly, unable to form coherent words amidst the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume me. The uncertainty mingled with desire as Hasan pressed against the entrance of my core.

"Fuck," he growled lowly, gripping my hips tightly. "You want it rough, don't you? You want me to fuck you hard and fast?"

My breath hitched in response as I nodded frantically, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew me towards him. He began to thrust into me with a force that made the desk move forward with each thrust.

"You like that, huh?" Hasan taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You like how I'm taking you so fucking hard?"

My mind was consumed by a mix of pleasure and frustration, but I couldn't deny the raw hunger between us. With each powerful thrust, my walls clenched around him tightly, desperately begging for more.

Hasan's eyes locked onto mine as he picked up the pace, his grip on my hips growing tighter with each passing second. The air in the room was thick with anticipation, filled with moans and curses that echoed off the walls.

I could feel myself teetering on the edge once again, desperate to surrender to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through my veins. But Hasan knew exactly what he was doing to me - he chased my sweet spot relentlessly, and I could feel myself edging closer and closer to the brink once again.

And then it happened. The intensity intensified until I exploded in ecstasy, crying out Hasan's name as waves of pleasure crashed over me like a tidal wave.

Hasan's thrusts grew more intense, his grip on my hips tightening as he fucked me harder and faster. The friction between us was unbearably intense, sending shockwaves of pleasure cascading through every inch of my body.

My mind spiraled with a mix of guilt and desire, torn between the forbidden desires that consumed me and the rational thoughts screaming for moderation.

"Fuck," I moaned, unable to contain myself. "You're so fucking good at this."

Hasan's eyes smoldered with dark amusement as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against mine in a hungry kiss. "That's right," he whispered huskily. "You love being fucked. You love how I use you for my pleasure. God youre such a whore, letting your TA do this to you, all for a good grade. You're my little slut, aren't you?"

He growled, his voice low and husky. I moaned and came again, my pussy clenching around his cock.

"Yes! Yes! I'm your little slut!" I cried out as he pounded into me hard and fast.

I moaned and writhed beneath him, my body responding to his dominance. "Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder!" I cried out as he pounded into me with a force that made the desk creak and squeak.

The door to the office was locked, but it didn't matter. The sound of our bodies slapping together was loud enough to be heard outside. Hasan's hands gripped my hips, pulling me back onto his cock with each thrust. I could feel his balls slapping against my clit, sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Fuck, Hasan," I moaned. "You feel so good inside me." Hasan grunted in response, his eyes locked on mine as he continued to pound into me. His grip on my hips tightened, and I could feel him starting to lose control.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he groaned. "Where do you want it?" I bit my lip, considering. "Inside me," I finally said. "I want to feel you fill me up." Hasan grunted again, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his climax.

He thrust one last time, burying himself deep inside me as he came. I could feel his hot cum filling me up, and the sensation sent me over the edge as well.

I came hard, my pussy clenching around his cock as he continued to thrust into me. I was panting and shaking as he slowly pulled out of me. He sat back on his heels, looking down at me with a satisfied smile. "That was amazing," he said, stroking my hair gently.

I smiled back at him, feeling a sense of satisfaction and contentment. "Thank you," I said, my voice still shaky from the intensity of the orgasm. He leaned down and kissed me gently on the forehead. "You're welcome," he said, his voice low and husky with desire. “I think someone earned themselves a 105%,” he winked at me as we left the building.

#smut #hasanabi #rough smut #ta #collegesmut #sleepingwiththeteachersassistant #hasan piker x y/n #hasan piker #hasan x reader #hasanpikersmut #hasansmut #hasanabismut

[slut4calum]

#hasanabi #5sos smut #smut #slut4calum

[slut4calum]

Masterlist

5sos

Calum

Why wont you love me? - (smut)Calum and Y/N are in a situationship and Calum wants more. (1395 words)

Hasan Piker

Jealousy- (smut) Hasan and Y/N go out to a bar and someone hits on her. (1759 words) Teacher's assistant- (smut) Hasan is Y/N's TA and He fails her on a big exam (4860 words)

Just stuff I wrote

Your legs are shaking- (smut) first person pov -one night stand, extremely graphic tbh, proceed with caution. (1344 words)

#5sos #5sos smut #hasan piker x y/n #hasanabi #smut

[slut4calum]

Why won't you love me?

calum and y/n are in a situationship. smut warning

In the early chapters of our connection, stolen glances defined the hidden corners of Sydney. Every alley and street corner became a canvas for our clandestine meetings, the city itself narrating a story around our growing affection.

Nights evolved into a captivating dance of shared laughter, lingering touches, and whispered confessions beneath the city lights. Sydney transformed into our secret playground, and Calum reveled in the way my laughter intertwined with the melodies of his bass, composing a symphony for our undercover romance.

As the months wove a tapestry of experiences, Calum's band embarked on a whirlwind tour. The stages, bathed in spotlight magic, served as the backdrop for my enchantment with the music and the irresistible charisma of Calum's performances. Backstage, amidst the pre-show chaos, our connection deepened in stolen moments of intimacy.

I often found myself attending Calum's shows, following him back to the tour bus. This night was no different. The air shimmered with a shared understanding as he pressed me against the wall, initiating a kiss that echoed with insatiable hunger.

"Been waiting for this," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "All damn night."

His kiss was demanding, his crotch grinding against my thigh with a growing urgency. Calum's hands, explorers on a mission, roamed my body, pulling me closer with each forceful caress.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his voice a hot whisper against my ear.

“I want you to wreck me,” I replied innocently.

“Oh, I was definitely planning on that,” he smirked.

Calum pushed my dress up, revealing the contours of my body like an artist unveiling a masterpiece.

"God, you're fucking stunning," he rasped, his voice a low growl filled with admiration.

His hand found its way between my legs, roughly rubbing circles over my clothed pussy. He pushed my panties to the side, inserting two long fingers, setting a rough and fast pace.

"Calum," I gasped, my voice a breathy plea. "Don't fucking stop."

“You like when my fingers are inside you?” he smirked.

“Fuck, yes, I love your fingers,” I moaned, nearing my climax.

Calum could feel me pulsing around his fingers, indicating I was close. He began rubbing my clit as his fingers continued their assault, sending me over the edge.

Undressing, Calum guided me onto the bed. "I've been craving this," he confessed, his voice a rough admission of the desires that had lingered unspoken. Calum climbed on top of me, kissing me roughly, his cock teasing me as it rested on my drenched pussy.

“Calum, please, I need you inside of me,” I begged.

Calum obeyed, quickly entering me, giving me no time to adjust to his size before beginning his thrusts. Calum's thrusts were slow and hard, each one receiving a loud moan from me as he slowly entered deeper and deeper.

Calum grabbed my hips, pulling me closer towards him with each thrust. My moans grew louder as he increased his speed. I felt my inner walls pulsing around him, my hands clawing his back as I reached my peak.

“Oh God, Calum, yes!” I screamed out in pleasure. Calum began to speed up his thrusts, pushing me to my limits. I grasped onto the sheets as I felt myself nearing my climax.

“I’m so close, Calum!” I shouted as I felt the waves of pleasure radiating throughout my body. Calum began to thrust harder and faster, pushing me over the edge as I screamed out in pleasure. My orgasm was strong and powerful.

Calum kept thrusting, his own pleasure increasing with each passing second until he finally reached his own climax, spilling his warmth deep inside me.

Calum pulled out, and we lay intertwined in silence for a while.

The room seemed to close in on us as Calum's gaze bore into mine. The remnants of passion lingered in the air, but the atmosphere had shifted, taking on the weight of unspoken truths and brewing tensions.

"Are you going to leave me again tonight?" Calum's question hung in the air, his vulnerability exposed in the rawness of his emotions. I laid there, a mix of frustration and an indifferent look in my eyes, contemplating the words that were about to unfold.

Calum's eyes, once filled with the excitement of shared adventures and stolen moments, were now clouded with a hint of desperation. "Y/N, we've had something special. Those nights beneath the city lights, the stolen glances in hidden corners of Sydney, they meant more to me than just late-night adventures. I thought we were building something real."

I sighed, the weight of our conversation feeling like an unexpected plot twist. "Calum, you're overthinking this. We're having fun, right? Why ruin it with all these expectations?"

Tears welled up in Calum's eyes, an unspoken plea for understanding. "This isn't just fun for me, Y/N. It's not just about the moments; it's about the connection we share. I thought we were in this together, creating something more than fleeting memories."

The room hung heavy with the weight of our unspoken desires and fears. Calum's gaze bore into mine, a silent plea for acknowledgment and reciprocation. "You're making this more complicated than it needs to be," I retorted, my expression indifferent. "Why can't we just enjoy what we have without overanalyzing everything?"

Calum, his frustration reaching its peak, took a step closer, trying to bridge the emotional gap. "Y/N, it's not about overanalyzing. It's about wanting something real. I've taken you to our shows, shared moments backstage, and poured my heart into songs about you, all because I believed in us. I need more than just the thrill of the moment; I need a future with you."

The atmosphere crackled with the tension between us, an invisible thread binding us in a complex dance of longing and hesitation. Calum, his eyes locked onto mine, realized that our love story, or lack thereof, had reached a crossroads.

"Why won't you love me?" The words escaped Calum's lips, a desperate plea layered with frustration and longing. It was a moment of vulnerability, a cry for reassurance in the face of uncertainty.

I met his gaze, grappling with the gravity of the situation. The silence stretched, echoing the unspoken complexities of our connection. Calum, on the edge of emotional turmoil, took a step closer, as if physical proximity could bridge the emotional gap.

"Y/N, please," he implored, his voice a desperate plea that cut through the heavy silence. His eyes, pools of vulnerability, glistened with unshed tears, mirroring the pain etched on his face. ""Don't leave. I need you. I thought we were creating something beautiful together. You're not just a passing moment; you're the melody in every song, the color in every day. Can't you see how much you mean to me?"

His plea hung in the air, a fragile hope teetering on the precipice of heartbreak. The room seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken emotions, the space shrinking as the seconds ticked away.

My gaze, steady but distant, met Calum's. "Calum, I care about you, but this isn't working.”

Tears welled in Calum's eyes, his voice a desperate whisper. "Please, Y/N, give us a chance. I can change, we can make this work. I don't want to lose you."

I took a step closer, my expression softened by empathy. "Calum, it's not about changing. It's about us. We're on different paths, looking for different things. Staying won't fix that."

Desperation clung to Calum's words like a lifeline. "I love you, Y/N. I can't let you go. We can find a way to make it work, to be together."

Gently, I touched his cheek, a bittersweet smile on my lips. His shoulders slumped, defeated, as if the weight of the world rested upon him. "I can't bear the thought of you leaving. Please, stay. Let's figure this out together."

I shook my head, a mix of sadness and resolution in my eyes. "Calum, I need to go. Maybe one day, when we've both figured ourselves out, our paths will cross again. But for now, we need to let go."

As I turned to leave, Calum's voice, a broken whisper, lingered in the air. "Please stay," he implored one last time, the words a plea that echoed in the emptiness of the room, a plea that remained unanswered as the door closed behind me.

#calum #5sos #calum 5sos #calum hood #calum smut #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum imagine #calum x reader #5sos smut #5sos x reader #situationships #why wont you love me

[slut4calum]

Jealous Hasan

Y/N and Hasan found themselves in the vibrant heart of the city, at a bar pulsating with the rhythm of music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The atmosphere was electric, with dim lighting casting a warm, intimate glow on the diverse crowd.

In their cozy corner, Hasan couldn't escape the magnetic pull of Y/N's presence, her self-assured nature drawing admiring glances from other patrons. As the night unfolded, a charismatic guy approached Y/N, the air thick with the promise of excitement.

"Hey there, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?" the stranger asked, a bold smile on his face.

Y/N, maintaining her poise, politely declined. "Thank you, but I'm here with someone," she gestured towards Hasan, who nodded in acknowledgment.

The charismatic guy, undeterred, persisted. "Come on, just one drink. I can show you a good time."

Hasan felt a surge of jealousy, his jaw clenching tightly. "She said no, man. Move on," he retorted, the edge in his voice carrying a clear warning.

As the charismatic guy retreated, Hasan's frustration intensified. "Why can't people just take a hint?" he muttered, his tone gruffer than before.

Back home, the tension that had been building at the bar erupted into a heated argument.

"Hasan, I handled it. Why do you have to get so damn angry?" Y/N demanded, her patience wearing thin.

"I can't stand it when guys act like they can't take no for an answer. It makes my blood boil," Hasan snapped, his frustration bubbling into anger.

Y/N, defensive and defiant, shot back, "I don't need you getting all possessive. I can handle myself."

The argument escalated, the air crackling with the intensity of their conflicting emotions. Hasan, struggling to control his anger, raised his voice. "I just want you to be safe, Y/N. Is that too much to ask?"

Y/N, feeling cornered, retorted, "I don't need you telling me what's safe. Back off!"

“Back off? You’re MY girlfriend. Obviously I’m going to get upset when other guys are hitting on you!” Hasan yelled.

“You say that like I’m your fucking property Hasan, you don’t own me!” Y/N yelled.

Hasan’s eyes darkened as he got closer to Y/N, backing her against the wall. “Maybe I don’t own you, but you sure as hell belong to me,” Hasan said, placing his hand around her throat pressing a rough kiss to her lips.

“You liked the attention from that other guy didn’t you?” Hasan said through gritted teeth. Before Y/N could respond Hasan said, “ I know you did, you little slut, that’s okay though, you’re gonna remember who you belong to tonight.”

After pushing her into the bedroom,Hasan ripped Y/N’s shirt off, exposing her chest. His hands trailing down her body, caressing her curves and squeezing her ass. Hasan picked Y/N up and threw her onto the bed, pinning her arms to the bed. Y/N let out a gasp as Hasan began to grind his hips against hers, his hardness pressing against her softness. Hasan’s hands were all over her body, exploring every inch of her. He bit her neck, sucking and licking her sensitive skin, making her moan. Hasan pulled away, and looked down at Y/N, with a smirk on his face. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them up, pinning them above her head. Y/N was helpless, and he knew it. His hands moved slowly down her body, his rough fingers tracing her curves and exploring her body. He grabbed her hips and dug his fingers in, pushing her deeper into the mattress as he moved against her. He took his belt using it to secure her hands to the headboard freeing up the hand that was used before. He took off her boots before making his way back to her hips. He slowly traced his hand from her hips down her thigh then back up her inner thigh under her skirt before stopping at her crotch, he rubbed rough circles on her barely clothed pussy causing Y/N to let out whimpers. Hasan felt how wet Y/N was and smirked to himself pulling his hand away, noticing that his palm glistened he ripped Y/N's skirt down her legs leaving her in only a bra and her fishnet stockings. “You fucking whore, you didn’t wear panties out tonight? You really were looking for attention weren't you?” He seethed. “No sir, I wasn’t, I wanted to surprise you when we got home,” Y/N replied. “Awh how sweet, the little slut wanted to surprise me, that doesn’t change the fact that I am going to punish you,” He grinned, flipping Y/N over and yanking her lower half into his lap. “Count for me baby,” Hasan said before delivering a hard smack to Y/N's ass.

“One,” she yelped. The next smack came down even harder.

“Two,” she said with a slight moan leaving her mouth.

“Oh, you like when I hurt you, guess this punishment is going to take longer than expected,” he said, delivering each smack harder than the last until Y/N was in tears.

“Thirty-two,” Y/N sobbed.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for now,” He said, rubbing her crimson red ass.

“I guess you deserve a reward for taking your punishment so well,” he said, ripping open her fishnets and roughly shoving a finger into her, setting a fast pace. Y/N let out a loud moan, Hasan leaned down into her ear, “If you make a sound, I won’t let you cum, do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Y/N said breathlessly. Hasan’s fingers continued to roughly thrust in and out of Y/N, her orgasm building as he wrecked her with just his fingers. “You better ask for permission to come,” Hasan said. Y/N could feel herself getting closer and closer to cumming, “Can I please cum Sir, please please please?”

“Yes you can,” Hasan said, Y/N’s orgasm washed over her, loud moans falling from her mouth. Hasan’s fingers didn’t stop though, Y/N’s moans just kept growing louder as he overstimulated her. Hasan rubbed her clit as he fingered her,Y/N could feel her second orgasm quickly approaching,”Sir, Can I please cum again?”

“Cum for me baby,” Hasan said, Y/N’s orgasm washing over her, more loud moans and whimpers falling from her mouth. Hasan slowed down his fingers relishing in the noises falling from her mouth before pulling them out.

He stood up, removing all of his clothing before pulling Y/N into a passionate kiss. He laid her back on the bed, “Face down, ass up,” he commanded and she obliged. He positioned himself behind her rubbing his cock up and down her slit collecting her wetness with his tip.

He aligned his tip with her hole pausing to ask, “Can I use you baby?”

“Yes, please, please just fuck me sir,” Y/N begged. Hasan roughly pushed into her, her pussy dripping making it easy for him to slide in, giving her no time to adjust to he set a fast and rough pace.

“Fuck, I love using this pussy, so fucking tight, who does this pussy belong to?” Hasan asked

“You Sir, it belongs to you,” Y/N moaned.

He increased the speed, pounding her harder and harder, his balls slapping against her pussy. “That’s right, this pussy belongs to me,” Hasan said, gripping her hips and pushing her deeper onto him. Y/N’s body was on fire, as Hasan’s thrusts became more intense. He drove into her harder and harder, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. He grabbed her hair, tugging it back as he thrust deeper and deeper, his cock filling her completely. He smacked her ass hard, leaving a slight sting as he continued to ravage her body. Hasan pounded into her harder and faster, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her closer. His thrusts were relentless and she felt her orgasm building. Hasan knew this and reached around letting one of his fingers trace circles around her clit.

“Come for me,” he commanded and she obeyed, screaming his name as her orgasm crashed through her. Hasan followed soon after, his cock pulsed inside her, his cum spilling out of her as he kept pounding away. He pulled out of her, letting her collapse onto the bed, her body still trembling from the orgasm. He leaned down and kissed her neck, his breathing still heavy. Hasan then trailed his hands over her body, his touch still rough as he explored every inch of her. He flipped her over onto her back, his eyes filled with lust, and she knew he was ready to go again.

“Please, Sir,” she begged, her voice already hoarse from her screaming earlier. He smiled and leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss as he pushed himself back inside her. He started off slow, teasing her with long, slow strokes, but as her breathing increased and her moans got louder, he began to pick up the pace. He pushed himself deeper and deeper, the sensation overwhelming Y/N as she clung to him.

“You like that, don't you?” Hasan asked, his words dripping with desire. Y/N could only nod in response, her body too busy to form words. Hasan took her response as a cue to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming more and more powerful. He started to add in rough slaps to her ass and breasts as he drove himself deeper and deeper into her.

“You're mine,” he growled, his voice filled with dominance. Y/N could only moan in response, her body shaking as her orgasm built up inside her. She screamed his name as she came, her body trembling as her orgasm washed over her. Hasan followed soon after, his body shuddering as he released inside her. He rolled off of her, both of them exhausted from their lovemaking. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. Y/N lay there, her body still shaking from the intensity of the experience. Hasan looked her in the eye, his voice soft and gentle.

“You’ll never forget who you belong to, will you?” He said as he traced his finger down her face. Y/N smiled, her eyes still filled with pleasure, and shook her head.

“No, I won’t.” They lay there for a few moments, both of them basking in the afterglow of their passionate lovemaking before drifting off to sleep.

#hasanabi #hasan piker #rough smut #smut #hasan x reader #twitch streamer #short story #fanfic #fantasy #hasan piker x y/n

[slut4calum]

"Your legs are shaking"

Anticipation builds as he drives over an hour to see me. His profile boasts over six feet of height and a build like a comic book character. I'm terrified of disappointing this gorgeous man. I shower, get dressed, and apply makeup, setting the mood in my apartment with candles and a hidden speaker. My phone buzzes - "I'm 15 mins away." Eager yet nervous, I wonder if I'm worth the hour drive. Another buzz - "I'm here." I nervously greet him, fearing he'd turn back at the sight of me. He, a Greek god, stands before me. We head upstairs, make light small talk, and then head to my room.

"Oh, Deftones, sick," he says as we lay on my bed. We decide on a show, but it's mere background noise. Lips meet in a passionate kiss, escalating into a makeout, and clothes start to disappear. Vicious making out ensues, and he asks what I want. His hard cock against my stomach, my pussy aching, I manage to say between kisses, "I want you inside of me." He slides back, revealing an impressive package. At least 8 inches long and probably five in girth. I ask him to put on a condom.

"I don't have one, do you?"

"No, I assumed you'd bring them since you're the one who wears them."

"Fuuuuuuck," he groans, collapsing on top of me. "We can still do other stuff," he grins, his skilled fingers finding my clit as I reciprocate on his cock. We pleasure each other for a few minutes before he slides a finger into me, setting a rapid pace. My hand works on his cock as we build the intensity, and he adds another finger. The room is filled with moans and heavy breaths.

He kisses me, using his leg to spread mine for complete access, but he stops me from continuing. "I can't handle your hands for much longer, I don't want to cum yet." We make out, his touches on my sensitive nipples eliciting tiny whimpers. "I really want to be inside you; I'm gonna order condoms." He says, teasing me with kisses along my thighs.. He broke away from me, standing up, and my heart sank, fearing he was leaving. However, my worry was swiftly replaced with anticipation as he moved to the end of my bed. He yanked my pussy to his face, laying down at the foot of the bed, spreading my legs open with a grin.

"I can’t wait to hear your pretty moans while I go down on you," he said, peppering kisses up and down my inner thighs. Teasingly, he kissed all over my lower body, avoiding where I wanted him most. Finally, he licked a long stripe up my pussy before diving into eating me out. His tongue worked wonders, making circles around my clit before sucking it into his mouth. Loud moans spilled from my mouth as he got increasingly rough. He roughly shoved two fingers inside me, setting an insanely quick pace, causing me to scream as my orgasm built. His tongue flicked my clit expertly, and his fingers pounded in and out of me. The room was filled with the sounds of my pleasure, moans, and the wetness. He sucked on my clit again, pushing me over the edge, and I came all around his fingers.

Crawling up next to me, grinning, he pinched my nipple, eliciting another moan. I reached down, beginning to stroke his still hard cock, using my spit as lube, setting a teasing pace. Kissing him innocently while playing with his cock, I picked up the pace. "You play with my cock so well," he groaned. After listening to his moans, I removed my hand, placing a gentle kiss on his chest, leaving a trail of kisses as I worked my way towards his cock. I licked a long stripe from the base to the tip, focusing my tongue on his tip. His moans encouraged me to do more, so I took him into my mouth, slowly bobbing my head up and down, watching his hands slowly form fists. I sped up, bobbing my head as fast as I could while sucking as hard as I could, his fists grabbing my sheets. I cradled his balls in my hand, using my other hand to stroke what didn’t fit in my mouth, listening to the sounds he made growing wetter with every moan before he pulled me off of him and flipped us over so he was on top of me.

He kissed me roughly, saying, "I can’t wait to destroy your pussy. You think you can suck me off like a whore and not get fucked like one?" Sliding two fingers back into me roughly and reconnecting his lips with mine. After he was satisfied with the damage done by his fingers, he pulled away, walking to the front door to retrieve the condoms delivered long ago. I lay there breathlessly, thinking about how he was about to ruin me.

He grins, pinching my nipple. I stroke his hard cock, kissing him innocently, then intensifying the pace. "Are you ready for your payback?" he smirks, sliding one of the condoms down his cock. He yanks me down the bed to him and spreads my legs, pushing one to my shoulder. I can feel him rubbing his cock up and down my pussy, gathering wetness before he positions himself to enter.

"Are you okay with this?" he asks. "Yes, please, just fuck me, please," I reply.

"You asked for it," he grins, pushing inside me. I let out a loud moan, his cock stretching my pussy more than I'd imagined. He immediately sets a fast, rough pace, giving me no time to adjust to his massive cock penetrating me.

"Play with your clit; I want to feel you come around me," he demands. I oblige by rubbing fast circles. I can't hold back my moans as he wrecks my insides. After a few moments of rubbing myself, I feel my orgasm building again. "Fuck, I'm close," I gasp.

"That fast?" he laughs, fucking me harder and faster, sending me over the edge. My orgasm has me seeing stars as I dig my nails into his back. "Oh, fuck, that pussy feels so good cumming around me," he groans as he buries himself deeper into me. He continues obliterating my insides, grinning as my moans grow louder. I can feel his cock hitting my cervix.

"Fuck, I love feeling you bottoming out inside of me," I say as he thrusts in and out of me. "Oh, that's not even all of it," he grins before sliding deeper into me. This causes me to let out a scream as he's deeper than I thought possible. I'm a complete mess, all I can focus on is his cock penetrating me.

"Do you want to change positions?" he asks. I can't even formulate words to respond, only moans leave my mouth.

"I'm gonna take that as a no; you're enjoying this position too much for me to take that away from you," he laughs. He leans down into my ear and asks, "Do you want me to fuck you harder?"

"Please," that's the only word I can form. He snaps his hips harder into me, my headboard banging against the wall, alerting my neighbors to what's happening if they didn't know already. Every thrust has a scream leaving my lips as he destroys my insides. I can't think; I can only focus on the cock pounding in and out of me.

"Fuck, I'm getting close," he groans, speeding up, chasing his own orgasm. I'm in utter bliss. "I'm cumming," he says, thrusting harder into me as he comes. This triggers my own orgasm, and I come for the third time. He thrusts a few more times gently and slowly before he pulls out of me, collapsing on top of me. "Your legs are shaking," he grins.

"Yeah, someone just obliterated my insides," I say, pushing his chest jokingly before I kiss him.

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