#lars pinfield | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foxaftershocks · 16 hours

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I don’t know if you write smut and this is my first time ever requesting it so I’m a bit shy about it but if you do could you maybe write a sequel to “A Chance Encounter” where Lars gets the ‘reward’ they were talking about lol.

Don't be shy about it. Smut is fun! I hope you enjoy what I wrote.

The walk home felt as if it went on for about a thousand years. You were so aware of his hands on you, brushing over the bare skin of your hand, resting on your hip, fingers tangling with yours. His gaze was heavy when they rested on you. Luxuriating in the feeling of his unhidden desire, you slowed your pace, wondering if the anticipation would only make the whole thing sweeter.

He took the keys from you, opening the door to your apartment. The door shut and the electricity that had been building reached a crescendo. He reached for you, bruised knuckles brushing the apple of your cheek. You didn’t even have to think twice, reaching up, fingers curling around the back of his neck.

“Are you sure you want your reward now, ghost boy?” you asked.

“I’ve earned it,” he replied, dipping his head towards you.

Clearly he was still heated, that first kiss full of fire. He wanted you, that much was clear. He pulled you closer, no build up, kissing you so deeply he stole your breath. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair, blond curls there for you to tug on.

He lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist. His hands on your body was always addictive, making your thoughts spiral. You loved when you were above him, leaning down to kiss him, used to being so much shorter in comparison.

Anticipation had been curling in your stomach the entire way home, the fierce look in his eye making heat melt through your veins. From the moment he’d thrown that punch, defending your honour, you’d wanted to get your hands on him and reward him for all you were worth.

He stumbled towards the couch, lips trailing down your neck. The little noise you made in the back of your throat only seemed to spur him on. He growled into your skin as he sat. Your knees fell either side of his hips, straddling his lap, feeling him beginning to harden beneath you.

Grinding down, his throaty groan was music to your ears. His hands slid up, pushing past the hem of your shirt, seeking out warm skin with calloused fingertips. Your lips were on his, tongues brushing together, exploring his mouth deeper as your hips rocked against him. He dragged his hands up, along your spine, taking moment after moment to make you shiver.

Your fingers tugged on his hair. Teeth nipped at your lower lip. Kissing Lars was one of the joys of your life. He always did it with enthusiasm and a thoroughness that came from his need to be perfect. Where he had been unsure at the beginning of your relationship, his confidence had grown when it came to making you melt.

Sliding your hands down, you were slow as you unbuttoned his shirt, tie loosened and flung to the side. Chasing each newly exposed bit of skin with your lips, he lent back, letting you map his skin with your lips. Tongue darting out, you tasted his skin, the salt and the warmth addictive. His fingers were tracing patterns on the skin of your back and his eyes were at half mast.

You pushed the shirt from his shoulders, his skin soft against your palms. Touching him felt like a privilege. You lent forward again, teeth closing around his earlobe, tugging on it. He groaned, soft in your ear, hands pressing into your spine to bring you closer. Your lips trailed down his neck again, finding where his pulse pounded against your kisses.

“Fuck, love,” tumbled from his lips.

You could feel his length pressing against you. You rocked against it, chasing friction for the throbbing between your legs. Pleasure was pooling and you wanted him in every way possible. But tonight wasn’t about you. It was his reward, not yours.

One large hand cupped your cheek, pulling you back into a kiss. Your hands were on his skin and you were rocking against him, wanting to feel all of him beneath you. Sucking your lower lip into his mouth, you moaned. His hips pressed up, finding your heat.

His fingers were fast as they tugged your shirt over your head, hands cupping your breasts. Your head fell back as played with your tits, fingers finding hardening nipples through your bra. He lent forward, tugging one cup down, lips closing over the hardened peak. The man had a smart mouth, his skill with it not kept purely to wicked words.

“Want this off,” he mumbled against your skin.

Hands reached around unhooking, giving him unfettered access to your breasts. His mouth was hot against you, sucking as one hand played with the other nipple. You were arching into him, offering yourself to him, wanting him to consume you. Your fingers were buried in his hair, urging him on as you moaned his name.

“Want you so fucking much,” he groaned.

He kissed across your chest, giving attention to the other nipple. Your hips were rocking again, grinding down on the hard length beneath you. He was moaning into your skin. You looked down, catching blue eyes already looking up at you. They were molten, simmering with heat, smouldering as he gave a harsh suck. The cocky bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You loved it.

You dragged him back to you, kissing him, your tongue in his mouth and your moans muffled. His hands replaced his mouth, continuing to play with you, circling and squeezing and rolling your nipples. You wanted him closer.

You slipped off his lap, fingers reaching for his belt buckle. On knees, between his legs, you stroked his length through his trousers. His hips pressed up into your touch. Freeing him from his trousers, you took him in your hand, giving a slow stroke. Precum leaked from the tip.

The way he hissed your name as your thumb circled over the head was addictive. His fingers wound through your hair, half lid eyes watching you. You lent forward, tongue giving a small kitten lick to the tip, tasting the salt of him.

“Oh, fuck, love,” he groaned.

You looked up at him again, tongue dragging over your lower lip. You held his gaze for a moment, breathless anticipation hanging in the air. With deliberate movements, you licked him from root to tip. His hips jutted up towards you, a wordless plea for more.

Wrapping your lips around him, you were slow to take him in. His fingers tightened in your hair, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. Drawing back, tongue pressing against that spot under the head at drove him wild. His hips rose to meet you as you slid your lips down again, taking him as deeply as you could.

“Have I told you how perfect you are?” he asked, voice strained.

You hummed around him, watching the way his head fell back, fingers tightening in your hair as he guided you. Your cheeks hollowed, tongue teasing him. Worshipping him was the easiest thing in the world, and you could do it for hours on end if he let you. You were slow with him, taking your time, wanting him to feel every single moment of pleasure. It was his reward, after all. He should be able to enjoy all of it.

Touching him was one of the greatest pleasures in life. Warm skin beneath your palms, mouth working him, cupping and tugging and skimming fingertips until he was making those whining noises that were like a drug to you.

The fingers in your hair dragged you off him, pulling you up until you were back in his lap. Cheeks flushed and eyes dark, he kissed you until flames were consuming you and you were nothing but want. His hands ran down your spine, leaving your nerves lit up in their wake. His hands grasped your ass, pushing you against him until you hissed.

“This is your reward, ghost boy,” you said into his mouth.

“Don’t care,” he growled, “want you.”

You stood, long enough to strip your trousers from your legs, flinging them to one side. He shuffled his down his legs. Fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you closer again, right between his legs. You lent down, kissing him until your head turned dizzy.

“One moment.”

You stepped back, disappearing into the darkness of the bedroom. With the ghost of a memory, you picked your way across the room, rifling through the bedside drawer. Returning, you tossed the condom at him. He didn’t hesitate, tearing the packaging open. You took it from his hands, slow to roll it down his leaking erection, stroking over the hardened length until his hands had grabbed you, pulling you back onto his lap.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked as his lips trailed over your skin.

You huffed a soft chuckle, letting yourself arch into him, grinding unforgivingly against him, the hot throbbing between your legs driving you crazy. His hands kept stroking over your skin, touching you in every way you would allow and when he looked at you it was like he couldn’t believe you were there with him. That you were allowing him to have you. That somehow he’d gotten luckier than he ever could have believed he would be.

“Lars, please,” you begged, needing him inside you.

“Say it again,” he growled, pressing you more insistently against him.

“Please,” you whined.

He lifted you, lining himself up with your entrance. You pushed down, slow, taking him within you, an almost sob coming out with the relief of the feeling. You paused, adjusting to the feeling. His eyes caught yours, holding you there, lips kiss stung and eyes molten.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, “you feel so good.”

In response you began to move, rising until he was barely in you before you lowered again. The soft groan that came from him was music to your ears. Doing it again, you lingered at the height of your movement. His fingers dug into your hips and pulled you down, his own hips rising to meet you.

“So good,” he groaned again.

You pace increased, watching the way his face changed. Pleasure rippled out and you felt the need to kiss him again. Biting down on the full lower lip that had been tempting you for so long, he gripped you harder.

“Can’t believe anyone would give this up,” he groaned, hands sliding around your body, cupping your breasts again. Thumbs flicking over hardened nipples before he began to roll them between thumb and forefinger.

“Lars,” you moaned, “fuck.”

Your head fell back, his name sweet on your tongue. He lent forward, sucking one into his mouth as you continued to bounce on his cock.

“Never going to let you go,” he mumbled into your skin, “mine. All mine.”

You dragged him back into a kiss, muffling your moans into his mouth. You could feel it, when he began to get close, the way his body began to tighten beneath you. One hand travelled down your body, dipping between your legs. His finger drew tight circles over your clit as he continued to pound into you. Reaching further, deeper in you, over and over he hit that spot within you only he had ever been able to find.

You weren’t in control of your body any more, moving on instinct. Chasing your pleasure, desperate to give him his, it was nothing but rutting against him.

He came, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he tried to muffle himself, going rigid beneath you. You made a high keening noise, continuing to move against him. His fingers were still moving over the bundle of nerves between your thighs even as he began to catch his breath.

His name was long and drawn out as your own pleasure crashed into you. Your internal walls were clamping down on him, keeping him within you. The way you kissed him was sloppy, tongue and teeth and mumbled praise.

You slumped against him, face coming to rest against his neck. His hand was stroking along your spine, the other arm curled around your waist, keeping you in place. You placed slow kisses along the skin in front of you, pressing closer as the chill of the air began to penetrate the cloud of pleasure you’d found yourself in.

“I’ve hurt you,” he said.

His thumb brushed over the imprint of his teeth on your shoulder. You looked down at it.

“It was kinda hot,” you said, “you’ve marked me. Everyone will know I’m yours.”

“And are you?” He looked up into your face, emotionally open, almost vulnerable, “mine, that is.”

“I’m completely yours,” you said, sitting up properly again.

Cupping both of his cheeks, you forced him to continue to look at you. His lips ticked up into a small smile, and you found yourself smiling back at him.

“Of course I’m yours, ghost boy,” you said.

“And I’m yours,” he said, softening before your eyes.

The way you kissed him this time was sweeter, softer, full of so much more emotion.

“So, did you enjoy your reward, ghost boy?” you asked when you drew away.

“I don’t know,” he said, “you might have to try again.”

You shoved his shoulder but you were laughing and his eyes were twinkling.

“Asshole,” you laughed.

You wondered if maybe he liked the name calling because the way he looked at you was with reverence. Like you were something wonderful he’d caught in the circle of his arms. It made you soften, knowing how safe you were with him, how he wasn’t going to hurt you like your asshole ex had.

“You know I always enjoy it with you,” he said, catching your chin.

When he kissed you, you melted against him, knowing this time was so different because he was so different. He was so much better.

#lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield #anon #request

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