#Fallen Leaves Across Trail

[thorsenmark]

Not Being Wary as My Footsteps Go by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A setting looking to the south while taking in views across walking path covered with fallen leaves from nearby trees in Lithia Park. By getting down low and angling my iPhone, I felt I was able to create a sweeping view that would help lead the viewer into the image.

[ghostwhippet]

Riley

Inspired by this wee lovely thing <3

You yell after your dog, Riley.

Simon is walking through the park in sweats when you do.

He might stop near a bench to check his laces and end up watching you for a while, living your normal life. Playing chase back and forth through the fallen leaves, feet and paws tossing up splashes of orange and yellow. Smiling. Laughing.

He might sink into it, sitting across the way pretending to scroll through his phone, black surgical mask on, black hood down.

For a minute outside of place and time, outside of his body and his fucked-up head, watching you might make him feel better about what he does. Some of it. Sometimes. If it helps someone be so light and alive somewhere.

He might start taking his jogs and walks through that park more often when he's in town. No reason, really. Nice trails. Big, quiet. Doesn't matter if it's a bit out of his way, he's got fuck all else to do.

Might pass by the field you were in more often than not, too. It makes for a good route, that's all. And really, if no one had been arsed to say anything to some fucking creep watching a woman for so long, the place could use more eyes on it.

...And maybe if he heard someone say his name like that again, like something warm belonged there in some other world, it wouldn't be the worst thing.

"Riley!" He hears over his shoulder. Almost jerks to a stop.

Your voice is bright. Exasperated, loving.

"Come here, baby," you add with a laugh.

He should check his laces again. Fucking joggers are always coming loose, he should really start double-knotting them.

Masterlist

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Only a few more days are left of his short leave and Simon is determined to make every last second count with you. What better way to start the day than buried in between your thighs, helping you wake up by the feeling of his tongue alone and then overstimming you.

Word Count: 4.6 k

Warnings:

The sun has just started to peek itself through the small gap in the blinds covering the window, illuminating the bedroom in enough light that it causes Simon to stir awake with the first signs of life as those brown eyes flutter a few times from the brightness until he comes back into consciousness. Rubbing his bare chest and scratching at the patch of hair on his lower abdomen as he rolls over onto his side to face the other body lying peacefully asleep, his breath hitches at the sight that he’s greeted with. 

Your long eyelashes rest delicately against your cheek, your chest slowly rising and falling with your deep, calm inhales and exhales as you still drift mindlessly through your dreams. The covers that are pulled up to your breasts conceal your naked form lying just underneath and the way they cling to your form allows him to follow the contours of your body through the fabric. You are a fucking picture of peaceful beauty.

Damn, you are so perfect he cannot look away and suddenly there is a tenting forming beneath the covers still wrapped around his lower half. It’s not his fault; how is he supposed to keep himself restrained when this is what he gets to wake up to? An ache situates itself in his chest, a gnawing blooming in his stomach to caress all that flawlessness. It is a hunger that only grows stronger the more he gazes until he is compelled to get up.

There are only so many days left in the short bit of leave he has and he wants to make every single second count. That’s why you both find yourselves naked even as you sleep; he needs his body to memorize the way yours feels against his and he needs to fuck you whenever the moment strikes, so there is no sense in wasting any amount of time with superfluous things when you both are about to go months without seeing one another. And right now that is working to his benefit as he wants to shower you with some extra attention to start the day.

Just a taste won’t hurt, he thinks, knowing full well that once he starts there is no stopping. Just till she wakes up.

He moves out from the warmth at your side as carefully as he can to ensure that his movements don’t wake you, not yet. The blanket slips from his unclothed hips as he shifts up onto his knees and positions himself over you, his hands atop the mattress on either side of your body so that he can push himself down your sleeping form while his lips take advantage of all that uncovered skin. Feathery light kisses trail down across the supple flesh of your breasts and over your soft torso as his hot mouth presses delicately into you in adoration for all this beauty that he gets to have all to himself. 

All these curves, all this smooth, voluptuous skin always ready for him to caress, it is enough to drive him insane.

Muscles ripple through his bare back as he continues down the line of your body, inching slowly so as not to miss any patch of flesh. He is careful not to drag his face too harshly as he goes along so that the stubble on his jaw won’t prick your skin, opting instead to pick his head up off you as he moves only to lower it back down at the next spot ready to receive his attention. Your skin is heated from being snuggled down in the bed and it invites him to nuzzle his nose into it as he goes.

Simon eventually reaches the edge of the covers that have fallen around your waist from him getting up and he has to lift them out of the way to reveal the rest of your gorgeous body to his yearning mouth. Rolling them back at a leisurely pace, he makes sure not to reveal too much so the cooler air outside of the blanket doesn’t have a chance to make you uncomfortable until the warmth from his lips can keep the skin flushed. Over the curve of your waist, your stomach, your hip bones he places his steamy kisses. It is when he gets to your belly button that the anticipation finally hits him that he is getting closer to his favorite spot: that beautiful place in between your thighs.

The mattress creaks under his weight as he arrives at the foot of the bed so that he can remove the covers and push them off your legs. He can feel his cock throb as he pulls them back and finds what he’s always pining for. A heavy exhale falls from his lips and his mouth begins to salivate as he catches that first glimpse of your legs laying splayed open and that sweet little pussy just there waiting for his mouth to embrace.  

Simon can’t ever get his fill of it and God, he needs it so bad now that he sees it again. For a split second he thinks about making his movements more pronounced to wake you up, but a sudden intrusion of an idea makes him stop. You had mentioned recently that you were wanting to try something, to be woken up with his tongue lapping against your clit. What kind of man would he be if he never indulged his sweetheart’s fantasies? Today seems as good a day as any to make your dreams come true, not that he ever needs an excuse to get lost in all that goodness between your legs. 

There are times when he is so ravenous for your cunt that nothing else will even come close to satisfying that beast inside him, but today he doesn’t want it to be about the harsh and rough… well, not yet; this morning is all about making you so delirious and overstimulated off his tongue only that you won’t be able to get out of bed at all and he can keep you all to himself for the entire fucking day.  

Quietly Simon slides himself off the edge of the bed to situate himself kneeling on the carpet so that he can lay his torso on the mattress, giving him a better angle to be able to move in. Your legs are positioned open in such a way that from here he can easily slip his face up in between them and right against you, but he is in no rush. Ever so gently he pins more tender kisses along the soft, supple muscles of your inner thighs, his lips embracing your flesh with silent promises that everything he is fixing to do he is going to do for you only because you deserve it. 

His pretty girl, his sweet thing, so perfectly made as if just for him; fuck, do you make him want to worship the ground you walk on. 

His eyes catch the goosebumps forming under his breath along your body wherever he places his warm mouth and he cannot help but smile at your automatic physical reaction to him. Even in sleep you know his touch and respond to it. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispers in his husky morning voice into your calf as he continues up the length of your leg. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, so goddamn beautiful. I’m one lucky bastard and I ain’t eva’ gonna forget it.” 

He continues on without hesitation as he slides all the way up until he is right at the threshold of those delicate petals that he wants his mouth on. A moist heat meets his lips as he leans in and places kiss after kiss to them; never has something felt so perfect pressed against him. If Simon could live between your legs permanently, they would never fucking find the man again. 

One of those beefy arms he slips under your leg to prop it up and move it even further out of his way so that he has as much space to work as he needs. Restraining himself from going in fast and heavy isn’t easy, but what he wants is to keep his movements relaxed, not crazed and insatiable like on occasions when he’s had a bad day and just needs to smother against you. No, you deserve the full princess treatment from him and that is what you are going to get. Taking the opposite hand not around your thigh, he uses two of those long, thick fingers to delicately spread apart the lips to get at all that lays in waiting inside.

“There she is,” Simon sighs quietly as he immediately spots that sweet little bean that he desperately wants to suck until it’s swollen and throbbing and then even more until you are coming on his face.

He doesn’t go right for the kill first, instead building the anticipation of your body as he kisses that crease between your petals and your thigh, using his balmy breath to stimulate that sensitive area as he switches sides a few times until he feels you twitch and only then does he continue. Gathering up all the spit in his mouth he collects it on his tongue and presses it through your petals to coat the area until your body can take over. As he pushes that thick muscle into you he catches the sound of a quick rush of air escaping through your nose, followed by a sleepy sigh as you stir.

His movements are tender and intimate, circling the nub with the tip of his tongue and slowly using the pad to make love to your clit. You sigh again heavier this time as you begin to squirm in your sleep the more he strokes, your hips rocking faintly over his face as the sound of your fingers clawing at the fitted sheet is caught. Just a little more stimulation and you aren’t going to be able to stay asleep much longer.

Your quiet, breathy moans become more than whispers now and those amber eyes dart back up to your face over the curves of your body, desperate to watch the subtle changes that ripple across your features as he works at bringing you into consciousness by your pleasure alone so he can witness the very moment you wake. 

There is a brightness on the other side of your shut eyelids as you slowly slip back into the realm of consciousness, the sound of your own muted groans filling the quiet around you along with something else you cannot quite distinguish and it feels like you are still dreaming. Then it hits you: there is a familiar glowing, warm sensation in the pit of your stomach that amplifies as you continue waking. Your eyes flutter open as the sensation is so intense that you can’t ignore it anymore and as you look around to gather your bearings you notice that there is a blonde-haired head rocking undisturbed between your thighs.

As you focus you realize that he is staring right back at you and the corners of his eyes crinkle as you feel his lips upturn against your petals; you know he’s pleased with himself at what he is doing. He doesn’t stop or try to speak, he only tightens his grip around your thigh that he has propped on his shoulder and continues to service your clit with his tongue while he presses his face in tighter so that the pressure adds to the stimulation. 

The sensation is damn near overwhelming now and you realize that he must have been at this for a bit as it feels like you are about to come. Your head falls back heavy against the pillow as your eyes close to allow the feeling to wash over you completely, needy moans unable to be kept under control fill what was once the silence in the room. 

That’s when you feel his lips lock around your clit before he sucks down on it and using the very tip of his tongue he twirls around the bud while his fingers come back into play. He finds your entrances and gently shoves his middle finger inside to rub across your G spot and instantly you can feel your calm shatter into pieces. A euphoric spasm shoots through your entire body, making your limbs start to tingle, and you know by the feeling that it is only a few more moments that remain until you are going to spill.

“Simon, shit…gonna come,” you whimper his name as you grind your head into the pillow. To have so much ecstasy hit you all at once overwhelms you with its intensity and leaves you unable to function. You are about to come, that is all your half-asleep brain can process. 

With a few more strokes of that strong muscle and a few more flicks of his finger resting inside you, the pressure building at the base of your spine and the warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach reach their threshold and you spill over the edge with a strong jolt that causes your back to arch up off the bed as you cry out. The force of it makes you buck against Simon’s face, but he is ready and digs his fingers in full force until his hold on you is so secure that he isn’t going anywhere as you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm that crashes over you like a tidal wave. 

Fuck, what a way to start the day.

In your sleepy, mind-numbed state, you forget just how voracious your military man can be and mistakenly believe that at any moment he is going to emerge from your thighs and come lay beside you…except instead of letting you go, he doesn’t stop. Simon keeps at it, only slowing his pace down to almost nothing, but not pulling away from you. Instead he sneaks quick breaths by tilting his head to the side so that it exposes his nose to the air before he buries it right back in against your now dripping slit. 

“Simon, baby,” you call groggily down to him as you try to wriggle free of his grasp; it’s the only thing you can do to persuade him to release you, “you can take it easy. It’s still early, we got all day.”

Just a second, you need to take a break only so long as to catch your breath.

Simon hears your pleas, but it falls on deaf ears as he does not even budge. His plan is already set in motion and you are not nearly exhausted enough for him to even think about stopping yet. This day needs to stay in the forefront of your mind for at least a few weeks after he leaves and be the specific memory that fuels your desperate masterbating while he’s gone and not able to fix the ache.

“Shh…” he hushes mutedly against you. “I only have a few more days with ya and I wanna give ya my full attention. And this mornin’ I wanna take care of ya. I’m gonna take care a ya so fuckin’ good, baby.”

Is there a way to say no to that? If there is, you can’t find it and don’t want to. Even through the overly sensitive nature of your body right now, you don’t want to deny him a thing, not when he says it like that. And to be honest now that he has you at his mercy, his tongue still stroking along the line of your slit before coming back up to circle the nub, you are starting to want it again too.

Tiny beads of sweat like mist cover over your body as the feeling of Simon’s arms slithering up your torso are felt running through the perspiration, greedy hands searching for your chest without being able to see. Grabbing onto as much of your supple breasts as can fit in his large palms he pinches the nipples and rolls them between his thumb and forefinger to make your heated body burn until you whine out loud as they stiffen at his touch.

“Shi-i-it, Simon,” you say, your speech starting to slur together as the mindless haze floods your thoughts from the activity at your chest that radiates in waves of arousal you can feel throb in your clit. Keep sucking, keep playing with my tits, don’t stop, your mind screams.    

Everything outside this is like a distant memory; your body is floating and your mind drunk as you exist only in a world made of pure ecstasy. Your hand reaches down around his arms across your torso to the back of his head where you can press and push him in tighter to your pussy and you hear Simon hum a deep, contented sigh at the feeling of you forcing him to suffocate even more. 

Tha’s it baby, drown me, he thinks to himself as some feral part of his brain gets activated. 

There is movement in the mattress that shakes your body up and down as Simon begins to grind his aching cock against it, trying to use the friction to relieve some of the pressure in the swollen tip. Hearing your beautiful music while being smothered in your pussy is like a religious experience that is akin to having heaven on earth. 

Your glistening thighs are vibrating around Simon's ears and as each flick of his tongue finds its mark you are brought closer to climaxing again as you spiral into sensory overload. Over and over he engages with your core, his mouth filling with your sweet juices, the tip of his tongue playing in such a way it feels like he is signing his name on his favorite part of you. 

His name is falling from your lips in pathetic whines now as the only word you can recall in the fog of euphoria that you are trapped in. Every inch of you is wrapped in a cold sweat that feels like you’re about to burst into flames, the muscles in your belly contract rigid as the pressure in your spine increases with every stroke.  

Right there, it’s right there. You have to come to release the tension.

And that tightness finally snaps just like that and you come again, this time harsher and more intense than the last. Your thighs lock tightly around Simon’s head as you writhe wildly, your body struggling to take all that immense euphoria that fills up every inch of you.

Lengthy seconds pass as you come back down from that high while the sounds of your whimpers act as a gauge to the man crushed in your leg lock how long he will have left to stay suffocating. Once you settle back down again into the pillows and release his head from your hold does he actually emerge fully to sit up for the first time since he went down. 

Twice is enough, right? For anyone else it would be, but for Simon you know the man is still craving more. He wipes away the accumulation of cum and spit glinting in the morning light off the hairs on his chin onto the sheet he has picked up, a contented grin filling his beautifully stark features as he sets the damp fabric aside and stalks back up onto the bed like a lion ready to pounce. Stray kisses embrace your lower abdomen as he sets himself into position kneeling between your legs. 

“Ya ready for more a’ me, baby?” he asks, though not waiting long enough for an answer before he is gripping into your hips to pull your body down over him until your butt rests on top of his thighs. 

You shake your head back and forth. “Too much, t-too much,” you plead, but that isn’t going to do anything and you know it. He is ravenous.

Simon licks his raw, swollen lips. “But you’re takin’ it all so fuckin’ well. Your legs aren’t even shakin’ that bad yet, sweetheart. Said I was gonna take care ‘a ya good and I think that means ya need more.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry at the thought of going again. “I can’t…I can’t…” you continue, the back of your head digging into the pillow. His fingers run along your inner thighs to send shockwaves of overwhelming ecstasy shooting up your spine to the top of your head and your mouth struggles to form the rest of the words. “Just give me a minute. Please, Si. I don’t think I can go anymore.” 

“Yes ya can, beautiful; you’re not done,” he grunts with a sharp inhale as he takes your legs in his grip and lifts them up so that he can rest your calves over his shoulders in a way that will strap you to him. Looking down at you through the gap in your legs he flashes a toothy, mischievous grin that has you shivering with anticipation as the heat from his breath rolls over your stomach. “Come on, sweetheart, I know ya ‘ave a little more in ya. You’re gonna take it all for me, yeah? I want ya ta fuckin’ soak me.”

You’re screwed.

Nodding your head in agreement, he immediately leans his face in until his nose can nuzzle against that overstimulated button and your back harshly arches right off the mattress, hands gripping with iron strength into the bundled up sheets you’ve gathered in your fists. Those long, rough fingers holding up your sides drive deeper into your hips so that you can’t slip away from his face while you buck roughly as the movements of his tongue settle back into a steady rhythm again.

So velvety soft, so warm, so moist, it makes his engorged cock throb hard and can feel it prod into your butt. He is overtaken by a desperate, burning need that floods his veins like wildfire; he wants to bury his face even deeper into you as if he is trying to fuse himself with your body. That feeling in him is unleashed in all its fury and he laps at your cunt faster and harder with each passing minute and your already weakened body is overwhelmed. 

“Fuckin’ breathe, sweet thing,” he says in a deep, desperate growl, ripping his face from within you for only long enough to speak the order, as he looks down to see the mixture of pain and pleasure ripple through your brow before he is right back in. 

Hot tears are stinging at the rims of your eyes now as your overly sensitive clit is stimulated again, collecting until they finally break over the edge to stream out from the corners and down over your cheeks. Simon stares at them glinting in crystalline drops as they catch the light from the window before they disappear and gather on the pillow behind your head and goddamn are they so beautiful they nearly stop his heart. 

This is it, this is the one that will do you in and his mission will finally be accomplished. He is pushing your body to its limit of what it can handle and you take it all so gorgeously. To see his sweet thing so out of her goddamn mind is something he hopes will be ingrained in his memory for the rest of his miserable life. 

The heels of your feet dig into the sides of his bare torso until his ribs are stinging under the pinpointed pressure. You don’t know if you have another one in you, but just as the thought burrows into your intoxicated mind you can already feel that gathering warmth in the lower part of your abdomen…except… Something is happening, that feeling of orgasmic pleasure bubbling up in your core is similar, but different. 

“Do ya want me ta stop?” he asks with his mouth full, prompted at the feeling.

You whimper pathetically through the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes; as overwhelming as it is, there is no way in hell you can let him stop now. “No,” you say pitifully as you try to push his head back down tighter against you, “don’t, don’t. Please…oh fuck, fuck!!”

“Good girl,” he growls as he dives right back in like he hasn’t already had you twice now.  

It’s too much, the pressure is overwhelmingly too intense. A deep sense of release more extreme than any orgasm you’ve ever experienced leads to a gushing sensation from between your legs and you throw your head back as you squeal loud as ever as it just keeps coming. Your body shakes and twitches as everything you have is released onto his face for the last time.

“There ya go,” he praises in between breaths as he strokes you through it, stopping once you lay limply in his grip. “Ride it out for me.”

Legs shaking, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, Simon lowers you back down from his face and notices that his lap is wet and there is a markedly large wet stain soaking into the sheet under you both now. His face is just as coated and Simon is quick to realize what has happened. 

You can barely move at this point, but still turn your face back towards him to be met with a very happy and content man gazing back at you with those fiery auburn eyes as he wipes at the moisture covering face to clean it.

“Goddamn,” he says with a grin as he emerges from the same sheet he used before, “my pretty girl gettin’ so worked up she fuckin’ squirts on my face. Ya do know how ta fuckin’ treat me right, baby.”

You’ve never experienced anything quite like it before and are surprised that you are even able to do it in the first place, but if anyone could make you do it, it would be him. For a split second you feel a little self-conscious at this new development, but the way that Simon looks at you as if you have just hung the stars makes you giggle from the combination of nerves and adrenaline and settle back down.

He crawls back up the bed and drops down exhausted, but completely satisfied beside you and once he settles he reaches out to pull you into his steamy, heated embrace, skin to skin against his chest. His hand cradles the back of your head as he simply gazes into your eyes until your breathing slows and only then does he finally go in to kiss the last part of you he has left to claim.

His lips meet yours softly, but with the entirety of his passion for you. This is his little slice of paradise that he cannot help but feel lucky to have. Out of all the shit he’s had to deal with in his life, he found you and that means something to him. That’s why things like this he will never mind doing, not for you. Not if it’s to keep you satisfied. 

“Ya know, ya make it so fuckin’ hard for me ta leave,” Simon sighs quietly against your lips as the backs of his coarse fingers caress the delicate skin of your cheek in featherlike strokes. “I gotta make it just as hard for ya. Cause I’m gonna miss ya like hell. Still got two days left; gonna make ‘em count, sweetheart.”

Oh, he will… he definitely will. He always does.

[moechies]

would you mayhaps mind writing more toji x bunny!hybrid reader... perchance...

pretty pleek 🥺

(ALSO I LOVE YOUR WORKS SM AHHH)

cw ❤︎ bunny is a little weird ‘n loves sniffing toji’s fat bawls ;( don’t make fun of her ! toji makin bunny jealous , throatfuckin !!!

you’re a possessive, insatiable, and messy little thing. and although he does truly love every single one of your animalistic traits, it’s definitely something anybody would find out of the ordinary. not like he minds a bit.

₊˚⊹ ❤︎

toji adores the way you pout, eyes growing bleary when he tells you he needs to leave the home for work. it’s not so much him needing to do his job, but at the mention of a ‘she’ twined into one of his sentences, and now it’s the only thing you find yourself focusing on.

he urges you not to cry, hoisting you onto his lap and pressing your hiccuping self into his warm chest before shushing you gently. but you don’t see the ill-intentioned smirk that spreads across his plum lips as he soothes you from above.

“mhm, it’s an overnight mission, s’i won’t be home till tomorrow, bun.”

“a-are you going to sleep with her ? in the same bed ?” you question meekly, and toji lets out an unassuring hum.

toji loves working you up with his words, and bringing you back down with his cock. it’s so much of a game to him, but not to you.

your poor sensitive heart clenches when he offers no sort of affirmation, leaving your little mind to wonder aimlessly. your chest huffs with both frustration and anger at his pauses, quickly attempting to pull off his chest and away from the mean, mean man.

“i-i hate you !”

but no, he doesn’t let you pull off. he holds you down tight, thighs clad against his meatier ones as his stiff cock prods against your warm cunt. “g-get.. away !” you yelp, turning away to avoid the man from seeing the falling tears that leak from your pretty eyes.

“shh, bunny. c’mere.” he chuckles, pressing your resisting chest against his despite your tried efforts, pressing gentle kisses across your face covered with streaky tears. “‘course ‘m not gonna sleep with her, dumb bunny.” you hiccup, refusing to look into him before plopping your cheek against his chest.

“liar . ‘m gonna kill her.” you whisper.

toji chuckles again, petting your hair and soft, fallen ears, pulling them up high to resemble your usual happy persona with perky ears.

“don’t be so naive, bun. ‘m yours, and yer mines. promise, hm ?”

“p-promise ?”

“i do, i promise.” he speaks, humping his bulge against your chubby cunt. you yelp, reaching out for toji’s arms for support. “c’mere. let me make it up to my bunny for bein’ s’mean.”

❤︎ ₊˚⊹

the sun’s glare peeks through the translucent curtains, waking toji from his slumber. he groans, reaching his arm over expectingly, wanting nothing more but to envelop your soft body into his; just to feel his arm fall against soft sheets instead of your skin.

the sudden throbbing ache in between his legs feels much more prominent than before, his thigh twitching at the unfamiliar feeling.

he cracks an eye open, peeking down, and…

he can’t believe his eyes.

you; your insatiable little self, with his boxers tugged barely below his sack, and your little hand pushing back on the base of his cock. your nose is nuzzled against his fat, dewy balls, taking deep inhales of his musky scent. his vision trails down your other arm, leading his sight to your hand in between your soft thighs, erratically pumping two little digits in your chubby pussy while grinding onto a soft, white pillow all at once.

“m—mister… hnnn,”

your nose twitches incessantly, nuzzling the bud impossibly deep against his manhood, little pink tongue even slipping out to get a taste.

your ears flare out to the side of your body, hairs standing, cottontail twitching because he knows you’re just so close, you’re almost there, and your little pouting lips trying their hardest to keep your mewls quiet.

and finally, you let out a content cry, filthing your tiny fingers in thick, creamy cum. your humping comes to a slow, and you finish the job by leaving a long lick of saliva against toji’s cock for one last moment of wonder.

toji can’t help but laugh, scaring the bunny life out of you. you freeze, but he stops moving. it’s just a dream, right ? there’s no way you woke him up.

and just when you’re about to scurry away, clean up your mess and slip back into the sheets as if nothing every happened, there’s a hard tug on your sensitive little ears, one that drags you back towards your boyfriend’s standing cock where you were just a few seconds ago.

did you really think he wouldn’t notice ? poor bunny.

you squeak, his cock is harshly pressed into your warm gaped, mouth, and—

“what a rude bunny. usin’ me t’get that weeping cunny off without somethin’ in return. y’owe me this, hm ?”

₊˚⊹ ❤︎

“y’r so damn messy.”

toji grumbles, fingers threading through your hair, tugging at your ears.

his thighs are covered in your sticky slobber, strings of saliva dripping down his length and falling against his bushy base.

you don’t care. a mess is easy to clean and temporary, but who knows when your owner will leave on a mission, allowing your mouth to be empty for days ?

your cheek bulges with his chub, his pre slipping against the soft flesh of your mouth and leaving a salted flavor against your tongue.

“c’mon, take it deeper.” toji urges, adjusting your little face by your hair so that his pudgy tip lays against your throat.

“bigggg stretch, bunny.” he giggles, watching your eyes widen and hands slap against his meaty thigh when he presses down your unprepared throat, stretching the resistant flesh violently. you gag a multitude of times, mouth leaking uncontrollably as if you’re lubing toji for a smoother process.

“looks like this messy bunny mouth does have some good use f’it, hm ?”

❤︎ ₊˚⊹

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'snow day' - logan x gn!reader

summary: logan hates the snow, hates that it reminds him of the past. but he soon finds that being with you gives it a whole new meaning. (1.1k) tags: fluffy, angsty cus he thinks about his past, established relationship, you play in the snow, logan realising he's in love with reader, kissing, gender neutral reader, blood mention (in reference to his memories), for the 'snow' prompt for logan promptober, + tagging @alsoprettyinpink - hope you enjoy!

snow. logan hated the snow.

it once held bittersweet memories of home, of those beloved mountains in canada, nestled away from the world. but those memories were tainted long ago. the snow greeted him that day he fled from alkali lake, droplets of crimson liquid dripping from his knuckles into the pure white flakes below, leaving a sickly trail of red behind him.

each winter, he'd wince at the sound of it beneath his boots, each grating crunch serving as a reminder of where he had come from, what had been done to him. reminded him of that frantic prey-like pitter-patter in his chest as he scrambled, alone in the woods.

yes, for years upon years, logan hated the snow.

that was, until you.

logan tries to suppress the blush rising in his cheeks as he observes you by the bedroom window, how you eye the falling flakes with such excitement. a smile tugs on his lips, betraying the signature steely mask he wears. but he can't help it, not when he's around you.

the snow fell overnight, a lot of it to his distaste. logan can't focus on the snow though, not now you're awake. and that smile, he loves it when you're animated like this, when you get that mischievous glint in your eye. he shouldn't be surprised when he sees you bolt for the door.

you're out there in a flash, coat half on, hat sitting precariously on your head, one glove in your hand as you hop in an attempt to pull your other shoe onto your foot. logan watches, mouth half open, yet he can't find himself to scold or call you back inside.

"look at it all!" you yell brightly, turning to face him with a smile that could bring a man to his knees. and it does, regularly.

logan steps towards the door with a sigh, folding his arms firmly and leaning against the doorframe. his eyes drift across the freshly fallen snow, eyeing it with indifference. but it's when he looks at you, the way you're practically glowing with almost contagious excitement, as though you'd never seen snow before in your life. . . logan can't help but smile fondly.

look at you, with your sweet grin and eyes full of wonder, kneeling down to oh-so gently cup a handful of snow in your delicate palms. he notes the careful nature of your actions, always able to admire your softness, how you're everything he's not.

because that's just how logan is, who he is. haunted, chasing ghosts or being chased. an act as simple as playing in the snow isn't so simple. those memories hurt, sure, but he can't let go of them, not again. he's so afraid of losing parts of himself that he holds on to any scrap he can remember, even the parts that make him feel like the animal he's told he is.

he's trying his best, he really is, for you. there's more to life than the past but what if that's all he has in the end? it's normally all he's left with. memories and -

thud.

a cold wet ball of snow hits his shoulder, tearing him from his thoughts as his eyes widen and land on you.

did you just. . . throw a snowball at him?

you're smirking, evilly, compacting another neat little ball into your hands.

"hey," he barks, eyes widening as he points his finger towards you scoldingly, "no, don't you even think about it-"

it's too late though, you're ready to throw before he even finishes his sentence. another ball hits his shoulder and he scoffs, feeling the coolness soak through his white t-shirt and settle against his heated skin.

"you little shit-" logan growls, but there's a clear smirk evident on his face as he barrels out the door after you.

squealing, you turn and begin to run though you know it's futile. but you already got what you wanted, he's having fun.

he's on you in a flash, snatching your hips as he grapples you to the ground with a grunt. you land, turning to face him as you both catch your breath. his hands find your wrists and pin them into the icy ground below as he hovers over you.

logan's panting, his breath puffing out in clouds against the cool air. but you're still smirking. "think that was funny, huh?" he challenges you with a smirk reflected at you.

you give a defiant nod and he chuckles, a low purr that has you smiling. not for long though. he releases one of your wrists to grab a fistful of snow and pushes it into your face. you scream playfully and attempt to escape his grip. "ah, not so tough now, eh?"

"enough enough!" you laugh, muffled by his large hand, "time-out! you win!"

he grins as he dusts the remaining flakes of snow from your features. it gives him time to admire you more closely, his eyes searching yours with a rare vulnerability. he commits this moment to memory - the gentle pink flush of your cheeks and nose as the cold works its way into your skin, the look in your eyes he feels he doesn't deserve, could never deserve.

you look at him like he's everything, like he's not all the things he's seen and done. you look at him, really look at him. and for the first time in a long time, he feels seen, he feels. . . at peace.

logan wants to say something, anything that expresses the depth of his affection for you. but talking has never been his strong suit, instead, he leans down to capture your cold lips against his, his heated presence a stark contrast to your freezing surroundings.

there's no words he could find that would fit the way he feels about you. those three little words echo at the back of his mind, aching to pour from his lips, to be spoken aloud to you, but logan tucks them away for later.

his lips move against yours in a fluid, languid motion, his fingers tilting your chin just slightly as his other hand squeezes around your wrist. pulling back slowly, his eyes flutter open, taking you in once more. gentle flakes of snow fall into his hair and along his shirt, coating him as he shields you from it above. his gaze remains steady, like he can see all those little parts of yourself you try to hide from the world. just like he does.

fuck, he loves you. like really loves you.

". . . you got some snow on you," you smile softly, pulling him from his thoughts with your mild teasing.

the fingers on your chin trace up to your cheek, the backs of his digits tracing a line down your soft skin almost reverently. a smile curls on his lips at your words, but he doesn't mind the snow. not anymore.

because the snow no longer reminds him of what he once had or once lost, it reminds him of what he has. . . right now, here, with you.

[laligraves]

chp.2 - poolside

morning run series

joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.7k summary: Your nap is interrupted by Joel. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading (not enough so sorry for mistakes), Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, alcohol consumption, pet names, some degradation, breeding kink (yeah), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i'm still here <3! just busy with real life :( i don't have a huge plan for this series except to make little one shots here and there since i have a lot of fun with these two characters lol. other stuff on the way i promise <3

You left two days after that encounter with Joel Miller. Your head was still spinning and your pussy still sore, but the semester started and you needed to be back on campus. 

The first night back in your dorm, you debated throwing out the roses that now sat on your desk. You lasted 10 minutes just looking at them before you were touching yourself to the memory of him. You could still feel the scratch of his beard on your neck and remember the smell of his cologne. 

He’d put his phone number in your contact list and you debated calling him. But what would you even say? 

You should be mad at Joel for what he did. Yet somehow, he managed to reach into the deepest corners of your mind and fulfill one of your darkest fantasies. 

Now, back in town, you can’t help but feel a little excited to see him again. Even if the more sane part of your brain is trying to convince you to slap him across the face if he comes near.  

“Hey, lazy girl,” your sister calls out. 

“Hey,” you respond softly, not moving from your spot on the lounge chair. 

“I’m leaving. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, knowing you’ll probably spend the entire week swimming and sunbathing by the pool. 

“I left money on the counter and the keys to my car in case you need it.” 

“Okay, mom,” you say sarcastically. 

She throws a pool noodle at you and leaves with her friend after that, promising to text you when she reaches her destination. Any other time you’d be disappointed that your sister was leaving for a full week just as you arrived for summer vacation, but she’s been working so much that she deserves a trip. 

The stress from the semester leaves your body with each lap around the crisp pool and the warm sun. You go back into the house to make yourself a tequila soda and make your way back out to the chairs underneath the canopy. 

A sudden thought pops into your head as you look around the empty backyard. The fences are tall enough and the gate leading to the backyard is locked. Your sister doesn’t have cameras that face this side of the house yet, so there’s really no reason for you to be so nervous. 

You’ve never sunbathed in the nude, there’s just never been an opportunity for it. But now, with the house empty and the tequila coursing through your veins, it would be the perfect time to do so. 

Before the courage leaves you, you slip off the strings of the bikini and spread out on the lounge chair.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about,” you whisper. 

You eventually doze off, moving around until you’re once again face down. A text message from your sister lights up your screen, but at this point you’ve fallen asleep and don’t pay any mind to it. 

I forgot to tell you that Joel Miller from down the block is stopping by. He’s going to plant the roses Susan wants, but needs to take a look first. Help him with whatever he needs. Tell him thank you! 

You start to dream of Joel massaging sunscreen on your back, trailing his hands over your sides until they land on the soft, plump flesh of your ass. 

His hands massage and spread your cheeks open, presenting your asshole and pussy for his eyes. Joel lands a glob of spit right on your little winking star and you flinch slightly. 

“It’s okay, babydoll,” he coos. 

The tip of his finger circles your asshole just a bit, enough for you to shiver from the sensation. 

His fingers trail down to your pussy where he slowly teases a finger up and down your slit, gathering the wetness. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

You push back on his hand, overcome with need.

Joel laughs at your desperate attempts to fuck yourself on his hand and moves your thigh to the side, giving him the perfect view of your cunt. 

Before you have a chance to complain, he spreads you open and runs his tongue through your folds. Your hands grip the towel and you almost scream in surprise. 

At the scrape of his teeth on your inner thigh and the scratch of his beard on your skin, you begin to wake. This isn’t a dream.  

“What–” 

“‘bout time you woke up,” Joel growls. “Dreamin’ about me, babydoll?” 

You lift your head, slightly delirious, still grinding back on his face. 

“Joel, whatthefuck–” you whisper, words slurred from sleep. 

He tongues your entrance and swipes a finger over your clit, a movement that has you almost seeing stars. Joel ignores your pleas for him to wait, choosing instead to push two large fingers into your pussy. You choke down on your words at the stretch, still confused. 

“Can barely fit my fingers in this sweet cunt,” Joel says.  

“Wait–” you whimper, “fuck, wait.” 

With his fingers still in your pussy, he moves up to lie partially on top of you. He bites your shoulder, neck, runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear. 

“No waiting, babydoll. Gotta stretch this tiny hole,”  

Vulgar. He’s so nasty with his words, still, your pussy beats with its own heartbeat. 

“Joel–” 

“All this time waitin’ for you to call me,” Joel hums into your ear, “just used me for my cock, didn’t you? Little slut.” 

“No, I didn’t. I–” 

“I knock you up?” 

You give a tiny, jerky shake of your head, no, unable to form words. 

“Guess we’ll have to try again, yeah?” he murmurs in your ear. “Gonna’ fill up this pussy.”

“No—“

You mean to say it with conviction. But your voice wavers, and you cum right into the palm of his hand, soaking him.

You grind down on his hand and bite into the towel to muffle your screams. 

“Good girl,” Joel groans, “just love makin’ a mess, don’t cha’?”   

Your hands slowly let go of the towel and your body becomes limp. Joel stands from the chair and you hear the clatter of his belt and the soft rustle of his clothes landing on the ground. 

Your nap being interrupted by Joel is not something you were expecting. In fact, what is he doing here?

“Joel, what are you–” 

His hands reach for your hips and he’s flipping you over on your back, making room for himself between your thighs.

“Needa look at your pretty face and pretty tits while I fuck ‘ya.” 

“We can’t–” 

Joel’s calloused fingers pinch your hard-tipped nipples and as if your body is already conditioned for him, you push up right into his hands.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel groans. 

Before you know what’s happening, Joel leans down to drag his tongue over each peak. He bites, leaving only a hint of pain and shushing your needy whines. 

He grinds down between your open thighs, covering his cock in your slick. You moan and writhe on the lounge chair, twisting your hips with each bump of his mushroom head right on your swollen button. 

 “Joel, please,” you beg. 

But you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. The sane part of your brain tells you to put an end to this, to send Joel far away from you. But then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and your mind goes blank.

Joel keeps biting, sucking, lapping at your tits until you feel the familiar sensation in your lower belly. As if sensing another orgasm, either from your moans or the way you're grinding up on his cock, Joel stops, placing a soft kiss on each nipple before leaning back. 

“I needed to taste those tits before I fuck ya’,” Joel rasps. 

You tremble beneath him, laying there in a sweaty heap. Joel’s face is slightly flushed and his chest rises with each ragged breath he takes. 

Fuck, he’s handsome. Salt and pepper hair, creases around his eyes, a hooked nose and a huge cock make him the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

The second he releases your hands, you drag your fingers down his hairy chest and over his soft belly. He’s hard and soft, muscular from working outside but with a belly that you want to lay your head on. 

He moves your hand away, linking his fingers through one of yours and uses his other hand to bump the tip of his length at your entrance. You try, in a small voice that’s just about surrendered to the lust swirling in your head, to stop Joel, suddenly remembering that this is not your house, but your sister’s. 

“Joel, my sister is inside–” 

He tsks in disappointment. “She’s gone for the week,” he interrupts, swirling the tip of his cock on your clit, “don’t lie to me, babydoll.”

Your mouth opens to ask how exactly he knows that, but Joel takes that moment to slide right in. A high-pitched squeal claws its way out of your mouth at the stretch of his cock. 

Joel groans, sounding almost pained. His eyes shut and his mouth drops open while you fight to push him off of you. You forgot just how large he was, and even if your cunt is slick and this isn’t the first time, it’s still a little painful. 

Joel places your hand above your head, still keeping his fingers linked, and uses his other hand to push up your thigh. His nose brushes yours and he gives you a soft kiss.  

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing his tongue into your mouth and matching the pace. You don’t kiss him back, too preoccupied with the cock spearing inside of you and the loss of air in your lungs. 

“Too much–”, you mumble, “too much!” 

Joel moves his lips down your chin, the tip of his tongue dragging a hot path down your neck. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as you try to catch your breath. Each thrust of his hips make you lightheaded. 

“No,” Joel murmurs into your neck, “you can take it, babydoll. Take it like a good girl.”  

With your free hand you try to push at his hips, for him to just give you a moment to breathe. Joel quickly takes your other hand and places it above your head, locking both of your wrists in his grasp. 

Your tits are in Joel’s face, pushed up by the arch of your back. Joel takes full advantage and runs his tongue over your swollen nipples. 

You’re not speaking coherently anymore. Between your pleas for him to slow down, please you whine with each hard thrust into your pussy. 

“Fuckin’ greedy,” Joel groans, “pussy keeps suckin’ me right back in.” 

“You’re so fucking nasty,” you mumble in half-hearted anger. 

But he’s right. Your pussy flutters with each slide of his cock and your thighs bracket his hips, keeping him as close as possible.

The thick head of his cock bumps your womb and you’re almost certain he’s growing bigger inside of you. You can smell him, his cologne and sweat, the scent of a man who spends his time working outside with his hands. 

If Joel were any other man, you’d hate the smell. But with him, it’s intoxicating. 

The first time together was quick, in his front yard where you were forced to stay quiet and take whatever he gave you. Now, your whimpers are loud and he’s in no rush to finish quickly. 

“Gonna breed this little cunt,” Joel slurs, “gonna make you a mommy.”

His hips move faster and tears begin to fall from the corner of your eyes. Joel invades your space and kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Imprints of his teeth and his saliva are left on your neck, tits, and mouth. 

“You want that babydoll? Wanna make me a daddy?” 

Any other man, especially one who is practically a stranger would make you cringe. But Joel’s breeding kink doesn’t phase you. You fall into the fantasy of him cumming inside of you and giving you a baby. 

He pushes his tongue almost down your throat while he fucks you. You kiss him back and suck his tongue on instinct. He whimpers, a sound that makes your pussy tighten in response.  

“Jesus–,” Joel groans. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper, “m–more, please!” 

The chair shakes with each of his thrusts, just about able to hold your combined weight. Joel lets go of your hands and leans back to watch his cock slide into you, seemingly mesmerized at the sight. 

Your hands reach for his sweaty chest, arms, caressing his heated skin. Joel pushes your thighs open and you hear every sticky, wet slide of his cock.

He’s suddenly sliding a hand underneath your neck. 

“Look, babydoll,” Joel gasps. 

You don’t pay him much attention, your eyes barely able to focus on his face.   

“C’mon–fuck.” 

You lean up on your elbows with the little energy you have left and watch his length, veiny and large, covered in your slick, piston in and out of you. 

If it didn’t feel so good, it would be almost scary to look at. Joel, so much larger and stronger than you, somehow able to fit so perfectly inside of you. 

You fall back on the lounge chair and Joel places your ankle on his shoulder. He turns his head to nip your soft skin, leaving another imprint of his teeth on your body. 

He pushes his thumb inside of your mouth and doesn’t even flinch as you bite down. 

“I almost drove down to that college of yours,” he moans, “wanted to drag you outta the dorm and fuck you in the hallway.” 

You moan around his thumb, lost in the fantasy of big, broad Joel dragging you by the hair and fucking you out in the open, in front of everyone to see. 

His words are slurred at this point. But he's so drunk on pure lust that he can’t help himself but keep talking. 

“Wanted to show everyone who owns this slut pussy.”  

The way he speaks to you should make you angry, but you pussy only flutters and squeezes as he calls you his little slut.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and gently slaps your cheek before swiping his spit-covered thumb over your clit. 

He swipes over your swollen bud, once, twice, using your spit and slick that now covers both of your lower bodies.

Your orgasm tears through you, washing over you in warm waves of bliss. 

Joel keeps fucking you, moving faster until his hips piston and you're being used as a toy while your orgasm courses through your body. 

He lays on top of you, keeping your thrashing and whimpering body bracketed onto the chair. Joel’s moans grow loud in your ear and you know he’s close. 

“Not inside–” you whimper, “don’t cum–” your words not having any real meaning behind them except to add to your fantasy. 

“Fuckin’ mine, my little cunt,” Joel snaps, “gonna cum in my babydoll–” 

He swells impossibly larger inside of you and then you feel it, the hot splash of cum. Ropes and ropes fill your cunt and he grinds his cock into you, buries his head in your neck and groans your name over and over again. 

Your body, still recovering from your orgasm from only a few moments ago, trembles once more. The warmth of his cum painting your womb shakes another one out of you. 

You’re not sure how long it lasts. Joel continues to whisper in your ear about how fuckin’ sweet you are and how you have the tiniest cunt ever, babydoll while his cock fills you with cum. 

Joel continues to lay on top of you and while he’s larger in every sense of the way, his weight is comforting. The setting sun is blocked by the canopy which you're grateful for because you don’t want him to move. 

“How are ya’ feeling?” Joel asks. 

You’ve almost fallen asleep at this point. 

“Full… and sore,” you whisper. 

“Maybe this time I’ll actually knock you up,” Joel whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You roll your eyes and push him off of you. 

“Not going to happen, old man. I’m on birth control. And we just met!"

“Shame,” he sighs dramatically. “How about I grill us some steaks?” 

[dumbandfunn]

how cowboy!rafe and spoiled!reader met

it was a usual friday night in the local bar, the few regular rowdy ranchers and the occasional couple passing through just to grab a drink for their journey. it was nothing new. not until the door swung open more aggressively than usual and low and behold you stood in your pretty white sundress, mascara stained under eyes and demanding somebody to tell you “where the hell you were.” rafe had been on high alert the minute he lay his eyes on you, telling his usual drinking crowd to shut up while he took a sip of the whiskey he had been clinging to the entire night. you looked so helpless, fragile, rambling to the bar tender who seemed to not care about anything but how low the cut on your dress was. his eyes were trailing from where you had perched yourself back to the pervy wandering heads from the countless men who had all fallen silent at the chaos you had created from nothing. “are you even listening to me,” you pout, lip still wobbling whilst you slammed a hand down against the wooden counter. “i need somebody to help me, im lost and—” you sniffle.

an older man sitting across from you had piped up with an “ain’t nobody gon’ help you in these parts little lady, not with that attitude,” and that only made you cry harder. “but i’m lost,” you huff out, your tears quick to turn to the sweetest angry pout rafe had probably ever seen as you turn to the few people who were only watching in amusement, oh how they hated pretentious city girls. rafe’s eyebrows were raised, maybe it was then, as you started to bicker with a rancher twice your size that he needed to know more about you. and why the hell a girl like you was in a place like this in the first place. you left with a pretty loud bratty scream after nobody showed any interest in helping you, the distant laughs of the scene you’d caused echoing behind you as you sniffled back your tears and kicked at the car that had put you in the unfortunate situation in the first place. it wasn’t like rafe to follow, especially after someone like you, not that he came across anyone like that much in the first place. a clearly spoiled, city princess. maybe it was just the little white dress you were wearing, maybe he was just as pervy as the rest. he just couldn’t leave a little helpless thing like you to your own devices in a place he knew too well. or maybe he just needed you the second his pants got a little tighter when you were leaning across the bar a few minutes prior.

but less than two seconds after your tantrum he was hot on your heels, waving off the whistles that followed when the doors swung behind him. “so y’need help?”

a knight in shining armour, just a minute too late, it was tantrum city now after not getting your way.

“not from any of you anymore,” you spat out, folding your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at the young man who took a small step closer, taking his hat off and raising both hands up in defense, “well, you didn’t choose the best place to come cryin’ for help, alright, s’all i’ll say doll.” “—so y’gonna tell me what happened or you just gon’ sit here cryin’ all night,” he mutters out. you frown up at him, clearly in a conflict about standing your ground or getting out of the hell your car had broken down in. maybe your stubbornness had gotten the better of you, how you turned your nose up at him and quickly looked away, only for a hand to land firmly on your jaw a minute later, squishing your cheeks and staring you down with those stern blue eyes. “i told you this not the place to come cryin’ for help, s’tell me whats wrong before i go back inside and leave you here all on your own, hm? you want that?”

you shook your head almost immediately, eyes widened and lips parted. nobody had spoken to you like that in your entire life. and the way your eyebrows creased and your lip started to vibrate again, rafe knew he had you right where he wanted you. “my car broke down, can you fix it” you whisper.

“they don’t teach you manners in the city?”

you managed to squeak out a please, just as his free hand reached to brush a few stray hairs out of your face, licking his thumb and swiping the clumps of mascara from under your eyes. “now that wasn’t so hard was it doll?” and you shook your head again, nervous and chewing down on your bottom lip. he really did have you right then and there, someone who could handle your tantrums and someone who could knock the attitude from your lungs with something as simple as an eyebrow raise.

everyone was shocked to see you curled under rafe’s arm the following friday in his usual corner of the same bar, feet swinging and dazed. nobody would dare say a bad word about you again.

[irisposts]

Bloodlines

summary | daemond needs to marry and you're at the top of his list.

pairing | daemond targaryen x (f)cousin!reader

wordcount | 1k

warnings | 18+, MINORS DNI!, very light smut

edited.

You never expected your cousin to be here with you on your island of Valyria, much less dining at your table and feasting on your food. You watch as he takes another forkful, his plate nearly empty. He wipes his mouth with a cloth.

You barely touch your meal. The room feels small and intimate despite its grandeur. Heavy stone walls adorned with ancient Valyrian tapestries tell tales of dragons and conquest. While a large chandelier made of dragon bone casts a warm, golden glow across the table. The open doors allow a gentle breeze to drift in from the beach, the sound of waves crashing against the shore tightening the knot in your stomach.

You glance back at Daemon. He hasn’t changed much, though his silver-white hair is now cut short. The last time you saw him, it had fallen past his shoulders, but you find yourself liking this look more. It frames his sharp features, and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Daemon is dressed in deep, shadowy leathers, perfectly tailored to his lean form. You watch the silver clasps and embroidered dragons shimmer subtly in the low light.

Your own attire feels too revealing under his gaze. The soft, flowing fabric of your gown clings to you, draping in ways that accentuate every curve. Deep hues of blue and green—house colors—wrap around you like a second skin. The slight chill of the evening makes your exposed shoulders prickle beneath his watchful eyes.

“Is there something on your mind?” Daemon’s voice cuts through the air. Casual as he leans back in his chair, swirling his wine. “Cousin?”

You push your plate outward. Your attendant immediately steps forward to clear it.

“Leave us,” you command, your voice steady. The servant quickly departs, leaving only the two of you.

You tilt your head, studying him for a moment, memories swirling. “It’s been quite some time since I last saw you.”

“Three, four years,” he replies with a lazy shrug, “give or take.”

You look away, a warmth growing across your cheeks. “Hm.” You lean back slightly, your fingers brushing against the smooth wood of the table. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Daemon’s eyes sharpen, trailing over you in a way that makes the air you breathe feel heavier. “You have.”

A heavy silence settles in. The moment stretching out as his gaze lingers over you. 

“All grown up now,” he muses, his voice low, almost teasing. He takes another sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours.

You chew your lip for a moment, holding back your retort. “You didn’t come here just to visit after four years. A Valyrian steel dagger, no less. A fine gift, even for you.”

Daemon chuckles, the sound rich. “Can’t a man visit his family without suspicion?”

“You?” You raise an eyebrow, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry smile. “Never.”

His amusement deepens as he stands, his movements fluid, every step deliberate. He paces slowly around the table, fingers gliding across its surface. As he walks, his gaze briefly flicks upward to the ceiling. There lingering, is a painting of Valaryian lovers entwined beneath dragon wings.

“You always did see through the masks people wear. I admired that about you.”

He stops in front of you, his hand lifting as if to touch your chin, but you tilt your head away.

Your voice is steady as you speak. “What do you want, Daemon?”

He lowers his hand, though the smile doesn’t fade. “I must marry.”

A small grin tugs at your lips. “I’ve heard the rumors about you and Rhaenyra. If they’re true, why not her?”

Daemon’s smirk widens, amusement flickering in his eyes as he looks back at the ceiling. “Rumors,” he says softly, “are often more fun than the truth.”

His eyes lock onto yours, sharper now. “But you and I both know what strengthens Valyria.”

“Keeping the bloodline pure?” you offer, your voice firm but tinged with curiosity.

His silence answers you.

“Hm.” The sound escapes your lips as you push your chair back and rise. Standing so close, you feel the heat radiating from him, his breath fanning your face. 

Your hand presses against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath his armor-like clothing. His hand finds your waist, gripping you with a possessive firmness. “What if I have eyes for another?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper-- the challenge clear.

Daemon’s dark chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he leans in close, his breath brushing against your ear. “Vezof rȳbagon skoros iā rūmu zirȳ rōvon,” he whispers in Valyrian, his voice like silk and steel combined.

Don’t forget what I did to you four years ago.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips almost touching yours, his eyes burning with the same fire you’ve tried to suppress for years.

Your heart pounds as you feel the weight of his words. You remember how he deflowered you—rocking into you like a piston, kissing your lips, biting at your skin—setting your body on fire. The memory fades.

You meet his gaze head-on, your lips parting as you murmur in Valyrian, “Nyke gīmigon lo ao gīmigon…”

I could never forget.

His eyes darken, the grip on your waist tightening. Daemon’s other hand finds the curve of your neck, his touch slow and deliberate, gliding down to the material of your sleeve. With a smooth motion, he slides it off your shoulder, your bare skin to the cool air.

Your eyes flicker from his lips back to his intense gaze, the air between you electric. You feel the steady rhythm between your thighs quicken as his fingers slide down from your chest. Daemon hitches up the material of your gown. His fingers make their way between your thighs. The pads of his fingertips brush against you and you fall forward onto his shoulder. 

You breathe harshly. His fingers are cool and should be foreign. But the way they sink into you, you know it’s all too familiar. You let out a moan as he stills.

The hand on your waist moves up to your shoulder and then to your chin. He holds you, bringing your face to look at him.

“Nyke jaelā ao.” 

I want you.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers spread inside you.  “Ērīninna nyke.” 

Then take me.

Without hesitation, he closes the distance. His lips capture yours in a kiss that ignites every spark between you, consuming you both in a fire that’s been smoldering for far too long.

[macfrog]

fucking diabolical | one shot

i don't have a semblance of an explanation for this one. i've fallen off the ledge and i'm never coming back. if you know, you fucking know.

pairing: billy butcher x f!reader summary: you move in across the street. butcher notices. warnings: unspecified age gap, infidelity, unprotected car sex, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink (one mention of pregnancy), softdom! & soft!billy...? weird. word count: 3.6k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

Six days. He made it six days.

He’s not this weak a man, is he? Is he really? To stand by the living room window, whiskey in hand, white-knuckle grip threatening to shatter the glass. Five minutes. Only five more minutes.

To watch your figure float between rooms, flicking lamps on and flitting blinds closed. A patchwork façade, now become an almost nightly routine. Polite little home on a polite little street, on this polite little evening.

You’ll leave the radio on in the hallway. Your neighbors will never know.

He’s not so weak to feel himself harden at the mere thought: your body bending backwards under his, his every move stealing the sweetest of sighs. Leaden weight in his pants, painful and premature and at the same time – a fucking relief, honestly.

Relief that he’s still alive, somewhere inside himself. Relief that he can feel something other than burning rage, simmering resentment. Relief that he can still spot a right fucking sort when he sees one.

Billy’s not a weak man.

You just might be testing his willpower, is all.

It’s been a month since you moved in. Since you first crossed paths across the street. He was walking Terror, cooling off after another spat with the missus. Never fucking listens, does she, old boy? Never. I ain’t tryna cause a fight, but she makes it so bloody –

Hang about. Who’s this?

You looked too good to be true. Boosting yourself up into the back of the moving truck, dipping into the shadows for the one, two, three steps it took him to reach the curb. He could feel the ricochet of his pulse through every vein in his body.

You resurfaced in the light, nudging a brown box towards the ledge with the heel of your shoe. Skimpy little shorts, Billy noted, your skin glistening with sweat and sun.

When you hopped back down, your breasts – Jesus fuck, your breasts – they bounced so perfectly into place. Full and round and fucking delicious beneath that tank top.

Billy loves a challenge, doesn’t he? Fly little bugger. Didn’t matter to him when your little twat of a husband came scurrying out, scooped up the box and, following your direction, staggered like some pathetic drunkard back inside.

Didn’t matter to him, and didn’t seem like it mattered to you. At least, not when you caught sight of your new neighbor and took one looping glance – from raveled boots to rugged beard, lingering on the Hawaiian shirt in the middle – and then smiled.

Smiled like you knew you were about to ruin his fucking life.

Hi.

Hello, love. Moving day, is it?

You gestured to your feet, then to the Tetris block boxes in the back of the truck. Bit of a shitshow so far.

Looks like it. Need a hand?

He could’ve sworn you were considering it, the way you paused. The way your hands crossed to cover the ring on your third finger.

You rolled your tongue from one cheek to the other. Thanks, you decided, I think we’re good.

And then, just as Billy made to cross the street, you cast another line.

Nice neighborhood?

His mouth twisted into that sick smirk of his. Muscle memory. He had you ensnared already. He glanced over his shoulder. Hm?

I’m not from around here. Is it a nice neighborhood?

He staggered back over, stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘s alright, yeah. Few wronguns, couple curtain-twitchers.

Terror sniffed a trail between the boxes at your feet. His leash wrapped around your bare legs.

You knelt to cup his blocky head, scratch the folds of fur between his ears. Curtain-twitchers, huh? you echoed to the pup. And which category does your daddy fall into?

Billy’s fist locked around the leash. He could already feel it: the rush of blood heading somewhere he knew it fucking shouldn’t.

Neither, he replied. Yet.

You looked up at him. All doe-eyed and innocent. Younger than him by a decent amount, so it looked. A light in your eyes and a fullness in your cheeks that gave you away instantly.

You looked brand new. Lovely little thing; a baby crease between your brows as you ruffled the dog’s snowy fur and stood up, mirroring Billy’s suspicious smirk.

So fucking sweet. So sweet, in fact, that Billy wanted to chew you up and spit you back out. Wanted to see how much of a mess he could make of such a pretty girl.

He’s always known just how to ruin a good thing, hasn’t he?

Well, you cleared your throat, it was nice to meet you, uh…

Butcher, he said, holding a paw of a hand out. Billy Butcher.

Billy Butcher, you echoed. I look forward to seeing where we both turn out.

Forty-five seconds still on the clock, he gives in.

Gives in to the need thrumming through his bones, so electric he can’t stand still. Gives in to his fluttering heart and the way it falters with each sighting of your silhouette.

Gives in to the fucking brick in his pants, the painful ache and the feeling like bruising each time it ruts against his jeans.

Can’t help himself, can he? He’s already bursting at the seams. He hasn’t touched you in – Christ, Billy, it’s only been eighteen hours – but fuck it.

You’re the only good thing about his day. The only relief he gets, the only time he feels like himself.

The only thing Billy has to look forward to these days, is pushing his cock inside someone else’s wife.

Ain’t that a fucking thing? Fuuuckin’ hell.

He thinks, swaggering down his front steps, that he should feel bad about it. He almost wishes he could.

He thinks, watching you mirror him across the street – collar up, head down, the way he’d taught you the first night – that he should call it quits. Tonight, last night, last week. This affair should never have started in the first place.

He thinks, as he sighs into his car and you strut off in the opposite direction, that he should let you go. Tell you to turn around, head back home. Back to your husband, back to your life – unblemished by Billy’s messy, poisoned hands.

He should let you go back to that girl he met on the side of the road. Ring on her finger, dimple in her cheek. A twinkle of innocence as bright as sunlight in her eye.

But you pause at the end of the street. Billy catches it in his rearview. You pause, twirl on your heel, and stare back at the Cadillac. Your arms come up – something of a signal, a prompt. He should have the engine running by now. He should be on his way to the meeting spot.

Billy thinks, if he’s half the man he’s spent his entire life trying to be, that he owes it to himself not to turn the key. To get back out of the car, and never watch for the shadow of you ever again.

He knows he’s not half the man he should be. And why the fuck would he be, anyway? He ain’t exactly got a decent lineup of role models to choose from. A seed planted in shit can grow into as tall a tree as it wants – the roots will always be steeped in shit.

Sod it.

The engine rumbles to life, and so does he.

Billy pulls the Cadillac in to the usual spot. A couple blocks from your street, the place is perpetually deserted – save for a couple stumbling teenagers last week and a meddling raccoon the week before.

You’re loitering beneath the cover of some trees, avoiding the splotches of amber streetlight. Hands in your pockets; shoulders bunched. Almost a month of sneaking around and still, each time, he almost mistakes you for some other ghost on the street.

The door whips open. You sink into the passenger seat.

“Don’t tell me you almost got cold feet.”

His eyebrows quirk. “That sound like me?”

You bite down on a cheeky grin. That dimple of yours makes itself at home. “Thought you were about to bail on me. Car trouble? Couldn’t get it to start?”

“Hm,” Billy pinches your chin, “That don’t sound like me either.”

He could swear he feels you nuzzle into his grasp; could swear your gaze softens just a little. But it’s dark outside, even darker in here, and he’d do well to remember exactly who you are, and exactly who he is.

Selfish, careless, irresponsible. A right cunt. Broken from the inside out, a black chasm which splits the four chambers of his heart. It’s in his bones, in his blood.

The kind of man who flirts with the neighbor, who meets her in a backstreet and fucks her in his car. The kind of man who goes home afterwards and showers her perfume from his skin; who plays with himself until he’s hard all over again just from the memory.

The kind of man whose wife reckons the new couple look happy. Honeymoon phase, she’ll say, and then drift off into some other corner of the house.

Billy lets his hand drop. “Come on, then,” he says, putting the car into park. “Ain’t got all night.”

He’s never bored of it.

Never bored of the smutty smirk on your face, or the way you skip around to the backseat. Never bored of that first touch, the heat on his skin that meets your frozen fingertips. Never bored of the way you melt into him, the need pouring from your body as soon as Billy pulls you into his lap.

There’s a thrill to it. A kind of ecstasy he hasn’t felt in years. For the sliver of night that you share together, he can be exactly who he wants to be.

It just so happens to be who you want, too.

He lifts the tee from your shoulders, teeth dragging between your collarbones. Across red lace and strap, pausing only to suck a delicate mark into the plush of your chest.

You giggle, throwing your head back. “No proof,” you pull his jaw away, “He’ll see that, you know he will.”

Billy nips at your bottom lip. “Tell ‘im he left it.”

“Ha,” you roll your eyes, “Good one.”

He toys with the lace on your hips, slipping a hand between your legs. ��Poor baby,” he pouts, “Ain’t got no one to touch her at home.”

Your spine curls when he cups your mound. Tongue pokes at the corner of your mouth, eyes flood black; a wild animal eyeing her next meal.

He swirls his middle finger, teasing your clit over your underwear. “Make a mess in ‘em, sweetheart, just for me.”

“They’re already a mess for you,” you grit, nails digging into his shoulders. You grind into his palm, hips stuttering. “They’re – always – a mess – for you.”

He can feel it – the damp material at his fingertips, the warm wet on the inside of your thighs. You need this as much as he does. And that’s all this is, right? Helping each other out, being neighborly. A favor asked and answered inside of an hour.

Lend me some milk, water my houseplants. Fuck me until I can’t fucking think straight.

His cock strains against his jeans. Any longer and he’ll be making a mess in his own fucking underwear.

He kisses along the ridge of your jaw, sliding a hand up your spine to unhook your bra.

You shake the lingerie from your body, fucking perfect tits jiggling between your arms. Bare on top of him now – nothing but a scrap of lace over your hips and a sinful smile on your lips.

You fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, writhing still with the pressure he’s quickly building between your hips. Grinding into him, hungrier and hungrier.

“Stupid fucking shirt,” you groan, ripping the floral pattern from his shoulders. Your hands find the plain of his chest; solid, dappled with dark hair, chain catching the streetlight and reflecting it in your eyes.

Billy laughs to himself. He pulls his hand from between your legs, sucks the tease of slick from his fingers, and guides your lips down to his. “Come here.”

No, he’s not a weak man. He’s been a fighter his entire life. Fists that have broken bone, words that have crumbled foes to dust. If you ain’t already a cunt, the world will make a cunt of you, yeah?

But here, now, you – undoing his belt, tossing it to the footwell; pushing the denim from his hips. You, giggling when he bucks you up to rid himself of his underwear, and your head hits the roof of the car.

You, taking his stiff cock in both hands, biting down on a moan when you feel the weight of him –

You might just be the thing that breaks him.

He thrusts up into your grip. “Drivin’ me off my head, you are,” he groans, burying his face in your chest when you squeeze.

“Good,” you reply, spitting into your palm. “’s what you do to me, anyway.”

You drag warm saliva over his length, slipping lower to massage his balls. So big and heavy in your hand, though Billy knows you’re being gentle.

Everything about you is gentle. Even while breaking your most solemn vow – the bullshit promises you made to that cunt at the altar – you’re so sweet with it. A favor, sure – but you want to make him feel good. You still want to pretend it’s real.

Only – there’s not enough time. Your husband will be home any minute, Billy’s wife has probably already noticed he’s gone. There are only so many excuses that an hour can allow, and the longer he spends admiring the way you caress his ball sack, the more of those excuses are written off.

For now, the back of his Cadillac behind a dilapidated Burger King will have to do.

“Alright,” Billy croaks, pausing your movements with a light hand on your wrist. “Gotta let me fuck you now, sweetheart. Been waiting all day for it, haven’t I?”

You chew on your lip, guiding his cock to your entrance.

His tip notches at your hole, so warm and snug just for him. He can feel how tight you still are, even after a month of him. Still not used to the size, the way he punches the air straight out of your lungs with that first thrust.

He wonders if you’re still having sex with your husband. Stupid question, maybe, but he does. He wonders whether, when the bloke slips inside, you feel yourself aching around him. Feel your cunt needing more, needing him.

The thought drains his head of any blood and sends it straight to his dick. He leans back against the headrest and pulls your cunt down over him.

The sound you make is almost enough to send him over already. A tiny squeak, a yelp which shatters into the most beautiful sound he’s heard all day. Need. Need and want, laced up and tied into the form of a pretty girl on his cock.

Need and want, which happens to push the word over her tongue just as he goes to ask for it.

“Daddy,” you whine, head rolling across Billy’s shoulder. Your hips are still, split open on top of him as your cunt adjusts to the intrusion.

“There she is,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, smirking. “’s my girl, let Daddy open her up a little.”

So fucking tight, it almost hurts. He can’t remember the last time he was inside someone who gripped him this much. Like you don’t want him to move at all, just stay put between your walls and let you call the shots.

“That feel okay, darlin’?” Billy asks, helping you straighten.

You look down to where your bodies connect – the dark trail of hair on his groin meeting yours. The twist of lace, underwear warped to make room for the width of his cock.

You brace yourself with two hands on his stomach, and push up. Only an inch, barely enough for any relief, but when you drop down on him again, you wince.

“She’ll get there,” he says, slipping a hand around the small of your back. He cradles you in the crook of his arm, kisses the hinge of your jaw. “Just gotta give her a little bit a’ time, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” you reply, in a bottled voice. You link your own arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him.

He lifts his hips, gently bucking until your whimpers quieten. Until the crease between your brow smooths, replaced with creases at the corners of your lips. A smile, a satisfied thing – her daddy always makes her feel better, doesn’t he?

Always blurs the edges of her pain. The relief after a long, shitty day; the escape from a long, shitty marriage. The need met; the want fulfilled. The hunger satiated, until eight p.m. the following night when you pull your hood up and go for another one of your walks.

You chant it to him, like with each syllable you’re turning the pain into pleasure. Daddy Daddy Daddy. Each one higher than the last, each one more desperate.

Your walls squeeze around him. You grind down against the thick hair at his base; clit swollen and soaked with your wet and his.

Billy’s eyes roll closed. He slips his fingers through yours, feels the cold brush of your wedding ring on his skin.

A good man would snap out of it. A good man would glance down at the strip of gold around his own finger, and call the whole thing off. Stuff himself back into his pants, drive the both of you home. Never look the road you’re on again, never look at another woman who isn’t his wife.

But his wife’s not here. Hasn’t been here, for longer than Billy would like to admit.

You’re here. Dove of a girl, soft coos from her lips and little fluttering movements. Good girl, right in his lap, begging him to tear her apart.

And thank fuck he’s not a good man.

He grits his teeth, jaw clenching around a pathetic moan. “Daddy’s gonna come, darlin’, gonna fill her right up.”

“Daddy,” you pant, “Daddy, I’m – I’m ovulating, please –”

“Good,” he grunts, slamming in again, “Means you’ll take it all then, won’tcha?”

You slur something of a laugh into his chest. Your thighs clench around his waist, rutting begins to falter. You dig your nails into his shoulders and, with a sobbing moan, you come hard around his cock.

“Oh, my God – Billy,” you gasp, hands grabbing the hair at the base of his skull. You give it a sharp tug and tilt his head skyward.

Billy comes with a guttural moan, a sound that tears from the base of his throat and echoes into your mouth. His cock pulses inside you, emptying into your little cunt.

Nothing has ever felt so fucking right, he realizes, than this cramped backseat. A tight squeeze, all of it – the sweet pinch of your pussy around his cock, the sweat and sex coating the windows in a hazy film.

The stars in his vision spatter, fading into the dull car. He settles back with a sigh.

You giggle, swaying to and fro in his lap. When you slip off, his cock settles heavy and soaked on his groin.

“Hold it,” Billy says, snapping your underwear back into place. “You hold it all in there.”

“Okay,” you smile, wrapping your arms around one of his, “Okay, Daddy.”

He closes his eyes. For a moment, he allows himself to fade out of this stifling backseat and to somewhere fresher, cleaner. Unbroken and untainted. No vows or golden rings suffocating either of you.

For a moment, he could almost believe it.

At his side, he hears the ruffling of denim. The flick of a lighter, once, twice, and then the soft crackling of a cigarette burning. The thick stench of tobacco fills the car.

“You wanna know something?”

You ask it quietly, timidly.

Billy snaps back to the Cadillac. His eyes flutter open. “What?”

You twirl the cig between your fingers, watching the snaking smoke bend and twist. “This is all I have. The only time I feel like I’m above the waves. Everything else is just…fucking…”

“…drowning,” he says.

You hum an agreement and lift the cigarette to his lips. “Isn’t that awful? I mean, we’re fucking awful people, aren’t we?”

Billy takes a long drag. The question fills his lungs, sour as smoke. “Not you,” he says, lifting his chin to exhale over your head. “Not you.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “How come you get to be the cunt, and I don’t?”

He answers with an empty shrug, another cloud of smoke obscuring you from his vision.

“What would we do if you got me pregnant?” you ask, wafting the air.

He scoffs. “You’re askin’ if we’d pretend it was his?”

You shrug. “Sure. Would we?”

He rests his chin on your head. “S’pose we’d have to,” he utters, watching the blur of headlights soar by the parking lot. “You want to admit this is what you’re up to every fuckin’ night?”

“No.”

“No,” he repeats.

“It would be a shitstorm, though,” you snicker. The cherry glows again as you suck on the end.

“Fuckin’ diabolical,” Billy agrees.

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

❥ Everyone in this is aged up/18+.

❥ Fem Reader

❥ Warnings; cursing, teasing, dirty talk, praising, soft! dom Tamaki, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy sex, pussy eating, fingering, vaginal sex

Note; for the lovely anon requester, I super loved writing this, I love Tamaki — the soft dom version of him hits the spot.

Tamaki is, more often than not, tightly wound into a ball of nerves. Not to say he hasn’t gotten any better at being able to handle the reigns of his anxiety, because he certainly has.

It’s just, there’s always a small undercurrent of unease lingering in his belly. Making his pulse thunder, fingers shaking with unrestrained adrenaline each time he gets interviewed after a villain beat down.

He’s ashamed to admit that even when he’s with friends the unsettling sensation remains, albeit minutely. It creeps across the back of his mind, lurking in the shadows at all times.

That is, unless he’s with you, and now, with your baby girl too. Funnily enough, his hands were as steady as they’d ever been when he first held his little girl.

His heart didn’t race, he wasn’t choking to death on butterflies— okay well, those things were happening. Just not in an oh my god the sky is falling type of way. It was in an oh my god I love my family so much I’m gonna throw up scenario.

Tamaki was drowning in his feelings for the two of you, so much so that he definitely did burst into tears.

Tamaki’s sweet little Chiyoko is two years old now, and don’t get him wrong, he’s happy. But fuck — he’d be remiss if he didn’t admit he’s starting to get that itch again. The one that clouds his mind and turns his thoughts into a one track mind of I want a baby, I want a baby, I need to knock her up NOW —

Tamaki just really longs for another little one to raise, someone to teach how to be better than he ever has been. Another person he can completely be himself with, who he’ll love unconditionally. He’ll always strive to give his kids a better world than the one he grew up in.

Although, if he’s being honest, what really severed the pathetically thin thread that was left of his patience was when he came across what must’ve been the 10th pregnant woman while out on patrol today.

All Tamaki could keep picturing was you. With your belly so cute, so swollen and so so round with his baby.

An image involuntarily pops up behind his eyelids. It’s of your pretty face, your lower lip pushed out so sweetly in a pout, tits obscenely spilling over the top of your bra. Tamaki swallows, throat dry as cotton as he works to keep a steady pace while he walks the streets.

His cheeks are burning, a bubblegum pink flush taking over his skin. He can feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck, all the way up to the pointy tips of his ears.

Tamaki frantically pulls the hood of his hero costume further down to obscure his face as his mind sharply turns down a much filthier path.

The vivid image and memory of you riding his cock when you were six months pregnant makes the muscles in his stomach clench in anticipation. He remembers how unbelievably tight your pussy was, how he was able to place his hands possessively on your belly as he gawked at the way you used his cock to make yourself cum.

Fuck, fuck, fuck — he craves the satisfaction of putting another baby into you so badly his balls ache.

His heart stutters when he realizes his cock is rapidly thickening against his inner thigh, hot and full.

Tamaki then urgently speed walks back to his hero agency as if he’s leaving a trail of fire behind him, because he’s pretty sure the stretchy spandex of his hero outfit is not going to hide his humiliating boner.

Later on that evening, after your daughter has fallen asleep, you find yourself with your hands bound to the metal slats of your headboard. A soft, smooth, silky material caressing your skin, and binding your wrists together above your head.

Your skin seems to be stretched too tightly over your bones, entire body flushing white hot as Tamaki traces the pads of fingers feather light over your bare breasts.

You’re both naked now, and he’s been playing with you for what feels like a lifetime. He’s been teasing you relentlessly as his thumbs delicately circle your nipples until they pebble up. Your pussy throbs in response.

“Tama,” you whine lowly, arching your spine as he grips your left tit playfully. You push further into his touch, craving so much more from your husband than he’s giving you. You twitch as his other hand traces your lower belly idly.

“Hm? Is this not enough for you my goddess?” Tamaki teases you with a soft voice, punctuating his words with another rough squeeze to your tit. He makes sure to pinch your nipple in between his fingers this time.

You bends your knees and let your thighs spread open even further to fit his lithe frame as you let out a breathy sigh.

“Fuck no, it’s not enough Tamaki,” you complain, irritation lacing your voice as you strain against the silk that ties you down. Goosebumps litter your arms when rests his warm palms over the bumps of your ribs, fingers splaying out just under the swell of your tits.

“No? My, that’s a bit bratty of you,” He reprimands, warm breath tickling over your skin as he presses a kiss to your sternum.

“Baby,” you say, asking for his attention. You tilt your head down to stare at him with wide eyes. “Please I want your mouth so bad.”

Slender fingers dig into your ribs, forcing a squeak out of you as it tickles you. Tamaki only hums, pressing a line of kisses down your soft belly, lowering himself onto his own as he makes his way to your pussy.

“Here?” Tamaki asks innocently before he kisses the sensitive area of your hip bone, sucking on the skin a little. Your hips twitch, trying to move his head to your pussy — which is starting to ache, puffy and slick from being so turned on.

“No,” you whimper, fingers curling into fists, nails digging into the flesh of your palms where you’re still tied up. Tamaki places his hands on the underside of your thighs, easily pushing them open further for him.

“Oh, so you must mean here?” He giggles, dipping his head to kiss the inner part of your thigh, close to the seam that connects to your groin. He nips at the skin there sharply, making you gasp.

“You know that’s not it Tamaki,” you huff, wiggling in place, frustratedly tugging at the silk yet again. Your shoulders start to ache and you have the insanely strong urge to tangle your fingers in his soft, purple hair.

Taking action, you maneuver your legs until you can rest your thighs over his shoulders, heels ready to dig into his upper back. He instinctively wraps an arm around your thigh.

He uses the other hand to brush his fingers through the small patch of curly hair you left above your clit. His cock twitches looking at it because it’s basically a neon sign pointing him straight down to your pretty pussy.

“I’m not quite sure what you want then baby,” Tamaki sighs, pretending to be disappointed. “Ya know, only good girls get what they ask for. You should use your words better, don’t you think?” He remarks thoughtfully, pinching your clit between his thumb and fore finger, trying to bite back his smile. One of his canines pokes out over his bottom lip.

“Tamaki!” You hiss, pressing upwards towards his mouth. The hero wraps both his arms around your thighs, halting your movement completely. “Fucking—Tamaki, please baby, I want you to eat my pussy,” you reluctantly beg, teeth grinding together in frustration.

“Oh! I see, why didn’t you just ask me in the first place? Such a good girl though, using your words,” Tamaki replies happily, brushing his warm lips over your clit when he speaks, and you could strangle the man right now.

His slick tongue is so close to your clit you have the urge to rip apart the silk tie and shove his face into you.

“Tamaki I swear, if you don’t — oh,” Your complaint is cut short. Your jaw falls open, fists clenching tightly when your husband’s tongue finally parts the lips of your pussy. Leisurely, he swirls circles into your clit, forcing a rush of warm shivers down your spine as he kitten licks at you.

“Oh my god Tamaki,” you keen, voice thick with pleasure. “Please don’t stop,” you plead, thighs threatening to suffocate him as you cross your ankles over his back.

He rewards you by sucking your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue up and down occasionally. He teased you for so long before that you’re already starting to feel an ominous knot tighten up behind your navel.

“Tama I wanna, oh!” Your breath hitches. “Fingers, want your fingers in my pussy, please!” You blurt urgently, tugging painfully at your restraints.

You squeeze your eyes shut when Tamaki hums, smoothly freeing himself from one of your thighs.

With no resistance, he slips his two middle fingers inside, stretching you just the way you needed him to. He thrusts and curls his fingers at a steady pace, never letting up the suction on your clit. His tongue teasing just under the hood and turning you in a pile of mush.

“Just like that, Tamaki please, I wanna cum,” you say desperately, tilting your head to look at him again and meeting his gaze. His eyes are half lidded, pale skin flushed. He’s so pretty it physically hurts.

The knot of your orgasm tightens frighteningly fast. Not to mention, just the sight of Tamaki between your legs is overwhelming.

The base of your skull digs into your pillow as the water balloon pops, your orgasm gushing through your limbs like heated honey.

Your mouth opens in a silent o shape as your entire body goes taught. Your back arches off the bed, pussy acting as a vice while you cum around Tamaki’s fingers. He makes sure to move fluidly with your hips as you roll them against his mouth.

Your husband pulls his mouth off your over sensitive clit with a pop, fingers still fucking the life out of you.

“Look at you, such a good girl, cumming on my fingers so sweetly,” Tamaki coos. His pink tongue pokes out to lick his shiny lips, moaning huskily at the taste.

After a few seconds, your body begins to melt back into into the mattress below. Your thighs releasing the death grip on his head. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, watching Tamaki push himself up with one hand, settling back on his haunches as he slides his fingers free.

“You’re too good at that,” you laugh, chancing a peak at your husband’s hard, leaking cock.

He’s got such a pretty dick. He’s thick and pale, sticking straight out, a pale pink at the tip. It twitches a few times under your praise, precum making the tip shiny. Saliva gathers in your mouth as you imagine licking him clean and swallowing him whole.

Tamaki smiles shyly down at you like he’s read your mind. To distract you, he rolls his thumb over your puffy clit, making you wince.

“I know you want to suck my cock, but I need to be inside you baby. Want me to untie your hands?” He asks lovingly, running the knuckles of his clean hand over your cheek. You nod, humming softly.

“Please,” you laugh, tugging on the silk for emphasis. He chuckles gently in return, leaning over to untie your wrists.

As he does, the warm, spongy tip of his cock glides through the mess he’s made of your pussy. Massaging your clit, and making you both moan. The weight of his cock making you feverish.

Tamaki’s eyes are intense as they stare into yours. He lets you free, hands hovering nearing your face. You pause, flexing your fingers, allowing the blood to flow through your veins. You can feel the tension smoldering deliciously between you both, about to blaze.

Hands plant themselves on either side of your head, and then Tamaki’s suddenly smashing his against yours. He tilts his head to the side as his lips meet yours over and over.

Your fingers finally weave through his soft hair, tugging on it roughly. He lets his sharp canines catch on your bottom lip in return, easily swallowing the moans he’s dragging out of you.

Tamaki breaks the kiss, sitting back on his heels. Your hands fall limply to your sides when he moves away. He places his palms on your inner thighs, pushing them wide open. You let out a sound of protest, lower lip jutting out. He bites the tip of his tongue, looking amused.

“Don’t pout my queen, I know what your pussy really wants,” he says, lightly slapping your clit. You jolt in surprise, fingers fisting the soft material of the sheets.

“Yeah — okay, please fuck me,” you agree, feeling sweat bead up in the hollow of your throat.

“I’m gonna stuff you to the brim princess,” Tamaki says, voice airy but eager. He uses one hand to keep you spread, the other gripping the base of his shaft as he pushes the tip of his cock inside you His jaw clenches at just how tight, how perfect you are.

“I know Tama, c’mon, I want to make you a daddy again,” you urge him, wolfish grin pulling at your lips. Tamaki pauses, blinking at you in surprise with a rapidly forming blush. Said man raises an eyebrow, slipping the rest of his cock in without any warning. It punches a strangled sound from your lungs as you grip your pillow for leverage.

“My queen’s got a filthy mouth,” Tamaki croons, hooking your knees over his elbows — effectively folding you into a pretzel as leans forward, hands braced by your shoulders this time. “It’s hot,” he giggles. The glare you level him with holds no heat behind it.

He wiggles his eyebrows as he pulls his hips backwards halfway, before thrusting forward smoothly and filling you completely. You grip his shoulders, head falling backwards into the mattress. His cock is so so good.

“You feel amazing,” you tell him with a moan. The glide of his cock inside you is fucking perfect every time, splitting you open just the way you love.

“Yeah? Your pussy fits me like a glove princess, it drives me crazy,” Tamaki pants, warm breath ghosting over your face. He’s drinking up your reactions as if he’s never had a drop of water in his life.

“Mmhmm,” you whimper, hanging onto his muscled forearms now. “Harder,” you tell him, your face scrunching up as your eyes flutter shut. All you can focus on is the way he slides in and out of you, carving out a space for himself.

“Yes baby, you take me so well. You’re so pretty like this,” Tamaki praises low and smooth like butter. He gives you what you want, curling hips up slightly so he can hit your g-spot spot dead on.

Your nails create crescent shapes in his forearms, spine rising off the bed as much as you can in this folded position. Your blood is buzzing, eyes rolling so far back into your skull you’re afraid they’ll get stuck.

“Tamaki!” You sob. “I can — oh my god, feels like you’re in my guts.” Your legs flex over his elbows, his strength keeping you pinned however he chooses.

“It’s called a mating press for a reason baby,” Tamaki huffs a laugh, his eyebrows pinching together as the sound of his pelvis smacking your ass pushes him closer to the edge.

Tamaki makes you cum this way multiple times. Enough to make you see stars, hearing going fuzzy as you notice your hips start to ache. Then you’re begging him to cum inside you— making his cock jerk excitedly.

“I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to see you cum on my cock like this princess,” he says, as if in awe of the very sight of you.

Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer as he starts throbbing repeatedly, the way you’re suffocating him makes his brain mushy.

“Tamaki,” you murmur, hands reaching up to frame his face. “Cum inside me,” you demand, bringing his face down to kiss his jaw.

“I can’t wait to see your belly stretched with my baby again, you’re such a good mama,” he coos softly, turning his head so you can kiss his neck. You lick a stripe up his neck, tasting the salty sweat there and he groans. “Fuck, m’gonna cum, you’re made to take my cock, made to give me babies,” Tamaki babbles, thrusting shallow and desperate.

The tiny, rhythmic squeezes of your pussy are enough to push him over the edge, because suddenly he’s shoving his cock inside you entirely. The curly, coarse hair at his base tickling your skin.

Tamaki’s cock twitches relentlessly, stuffing you with small thrusts until he’s sucking in air through his teeth when he gets overstimulated.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him to your chest as Tamaki drops your legs. You sigh in relief, feet tingling as you crack your toes. The two of you catch your breath for a moment, hearts thundering.

Eventually, your husband rises, forcing you to drop your hands to the bed once again. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he pulls out of you slowly, admiring the sticky, white cum coating his cock.

He groans as he tracks the way his cum trails out of you. Before he can think better of it he drags a thumb over your pussy, gathering a bit of it and wrapping his lips around his thumb to suck it off.

“Tamaki!” You gasp, mildly scandalized and cheeks burning furiously from the nasty sight.

“I wanted a taste,” he says nonchalantly, pulling his thumb from his mouth with a wet pop.

A startled laugh slips from your lips and then Tamaki is infected with it, laughing along with you. You both giggle as he lays down on his side, facing you. He places a hand on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his, resting your hands on your sternum.

“You’re lucky we didn’t wake up Chiyoko,” you scold him, halfhearted in your attempt. He just smiles, eyes shining as he laughs.

“I would’ve put her back to bed,” Tamaki appeases, squeezing your hand playfully. You hum, content enough with his answer to relax and enjoy the post orgasm glow.

“I can’t wait to be pregnant again,” you admit in a hushed voice, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’ll be just as beautiful as you always are,” Tamaki whispers so sweetly it’s tooth rotting.

The two of you bask in each others company for a bit longer, daydreaming about the baby you hope you’ve just you created before you do anything else.

[thorsenmark]

Exploring Autumn in Lithia Park by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While walking around and taking in views of fallen leaves in Lithia Park in Ashland Oregon. My thinking in composing this image was to get down low with my iPhone and angle it such that I created a sweeping view across the carpet of fallen leaves on this grassy field.

[baby-yongbok]

My Forbidden

Hwang Hyunjin x afab!Reader

-`♡´- Genre - Smut - Forbidden Love -`♡´- Word Count - 4.4k

He's tall in front of you, his smoky aura suffocating you with a temptation you've fought to ignore for months. You told yourself you didn't want him. You told yourself that you couldn't have him. 

-`♡´- Warnings - So like, it isn't step-cest. I mean it. it isn't, but I will say that to some people it could look like it. It isn't, I swear but I will leave this here because I can see how it could look that way, Oral (f&m rec.), thigh riding [that's all??] -`♡´- a/n - Okay look, I had to write to these picture because Hwang Hyunjin tried to kill me when he posted them. True story. Anyway, I wanted to write a more unusual forbidden love story and this is where my brain took me. I tried to keep it away from being step-cest and I think i succeeded? It's like a step before it. Anyway this is the first fic I've written since having writers block so, enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

The art of control is a medium that Hyunjin wasn’t familiar with until he met you. He’s always been ambitious in his desires and exercises the drive to aim and shoot towards whatever he wants no matter the consequences. When he saw you for the first time his scope was set and locked. He watched and studied you. He longed for you. 

It was only a matter of time before fate worked in his favor. He was a model looking for a photographer and you were a photographer looking for a subject. What a coincidence. 

Hyunjin wasted no time charming you. He pulled out all the stops and you were impressed to say the least. You just clicked. It felt like a perfect fit, and then things got complicated. 

He had fallen for you, face first in a rosy smoke that he couldn’t resist. He knew that you weren’t far behind so he thought it would be a good idea to have you meet his mother. You thought the same, asking your father to come to dinner with you and your lover. The night went well, too well. 

Your rising interest seemed to be contagious at the table that night. Hyunjin knew from the excessive batting of his mothers lashes that she was into your father and vice versa. You’d never seen him smile like that, ever. 

“Hyunjin.” His name dances across your lips with each muffled exhale against the palm of your hand. Your other hand works lazily to pry his head from the crook of your neck. The gentle smack of his lips against the supple skin echoes through the open space. “We can't, we can't..”

The structure of your protests crumbles when his kisses trail down and over your shoulder. The thin strap of your tank top is pulled down with a hooked finger and his lips fill the now empty space with wet kisses. “Why not?”

He knows the answer. He knows that this isn't a dynamic that would be smiled upon. It's complicated. 

“You know why.” Your hands roam his body slower than they should until they settle at the waistband of his jeans. You stick your thumbs into his belt loops, using them as leverage to push him back. “You'll be my brother soon.”

“I will never be your brother.” His stare is heavy, his lips kiss bitten and sloppy with his own spit. He looks unhinged, desperate. “I wanted you first. They weren't part of the plan.” 

You push him back towards the set in the middle of your apartment. He complies, eyeing you as he backtracks one step at a time. “They'd be pissed.”

You push him into the chair in the middle of the photo set and he slumps against it. His sweater rides up his stomach, exposing the toned muscle and you steal a glance before retreating. 

“We were talking before they ever were.” He argues, letting his head fall back to stare up at the ceiling of your living room. “I kissed you, remember? We went on a date. Several dates.”

You grab your camera, distracting yourself with the settings to avoid Hyunjin's argument. He's not wrong, the two of you were seeing each other months before your parents got together. The two of you even reminded them about your evolving relationship the day after they announced theirs. You asked that they respect your connection but you were only guilted into breaking it off. 

Hyunjin didn’t give up as easily as you did. He fought, he protested but when it all seemed to be overwhelming for you he stopped. He settled, only because you asked him to. Hyunjin paced the space of his living room that night. He was seething, fuming, crushed. He tried his best, whispering to himself to keep his cool, keep it together, be your friend. Just your friend.

But he couldn’t. Not when he’d give you more than any other friend ever could, ever would, ever should. 

“I remember. I also remember our parents asking us to call everything off so the family dynamic wouldn't be weird.” He scoffs, sitting straight to look at you. His eyes have a piercing shimmer to them, you point your camera and click. 

“You mean when they tried to gaslight us into thinking that we aren't actually into each other?” He smiles, it's wide and somehow condescending. It makes you hot. “They aren't going to last you know? They've been fighting more. My mom seems to be getting fed up.”

You click another picture. “This wouldn't be the first time.” You mumble, unfazed by the information.

“She took her ring off.” You freeze, lowering the camera to get a good look at Hyunjin. The grin on his lips says it all. “She hasn't worn it in a week.”

“My dad hasn't said anything.” 

“He doesn't want you to get any ideas.” Hyunjin is standing tall with a simple push forward, his sweater rides up, his jeans sitting low on his hips as he stalks forward. “He knows that if they broke up at noon you'd be in my bed by one.” 

He's tall in front of you, his smoky aura suffocating you with a temptation you've fought to ignore for months. You told yourself you didn't want him. You told yourself that you couldn't have him. 

“We should wait until the break up is official.” 

His fingers dance along the skin of your exposed shoulder. He brushes your hair back, lingering over the spot that he knows drives you crazy. “We've waited long enough, don't you think?” His words manifest in a whisper and linger in your head as if they were your own. 

“Aren't you sick of waiting?” His other hand is on your waist, pulling your body against his own until you can't feel where you end and he begins. You've always just fit like that.

“You're here for photos.” You're breathless, eyes locked on his lips that are dangerously close to yours. It's tempting, intoxicating. His cologne lingers around you, dragging you down further into the forbidden bits of your desire. 

“Let's take some then.” His lips are on yours in an instant. It was the quickest slow motion you'd ever experienced. The gentlest storm you could ever be swept into. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him while his free hand reaches for your camera.

His lips take you in with a palpable yearning that Hyunjin has worked hard to tame. He tongue parts your lips with expert precision that makes this seem practiced. Your arms wrap around him, resting on his shoulders and fisting the flimsy fabric of his sweater. He licks into your mouth and you moan in time with the shutter of the lens. Hyunjin breaks the kiss, just barely pulling away to show you your debauched reflection on the screen. 

“We look good together don't we?” His lips just barely brush over yours. His breath fans over the tender flesh and you forget all that you were weary about. The complications evaporate with his touch just as they always have. 

“If we do this… If I give myself to you I don’t know that I can take myself back.” You whisper, eyes capturing him in a stare that could halt a bullet. “You’ll have to keep me if you take me.”

He pauses, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a promise, and in that moment, An intense longing flickers in his eyes, consuming him. “I wouldn’t dream of letting you go,” he replies, voice low and steady, a vow etched in every syllable.

Every part of him is drawn to you. Every night that you’ve been limited to the bounds of his imagination, every time that he’s had to contain his desire to sculpt you into something glorious beneath him. The sacrificed nights of sleep and months of sanity just to keep his control tight in his fist led him to this. To you. 

He dives into you like your waves would recede if he didn’t dip into you now. You spill into him, melting against his touch and letting your desire run rampant in the space around you. He clicks another photo, capturing the desperation leaking between your lips. You push against him, backing him towards the chair in the middle of the hommade set yet again. He sits when his calves hit the seat, breaking the kiss reluctantly to stare up at you with the honey he calls eyes.

“What if they don’t break up?” The concern in your tone is countered as you kneel before him, slotting yourself between his spread legs. He’s silent for a second, taking in the view that he’s dreamt of for months. The camera clicks. 

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't care." he says, his voice a low rumble. He reaches out, sinking his long fingers into the thick curl of your hair and coaxing you forward. You lean in and just barely brush your lips against his naked hip, before pulling away. "I’m not sacrificing us again."

His hand moves to cup your face, the pad of his thumb runs over the apple of your cheek in gentle admiration and you reach up, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “What’re you doing on your knees, baby?”

“I’ll show you.” You lean back into his hip, brushing your lips over the skin and exhaling a heavy puff of hot air before placing a gentle kiss. Hyunjin watches you with the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. A single strand of hair falls forwards to frame the shimmering brown admiring the lithe move of your lips against his skin.

Your hands roam the expanse of his denim clad thighs, your manicured nails dig into the fabric with a soft bite that makes the man above you hiss with a gentle flutter of his heavy lids. He slouches a bit more into the black framed chair, giving you better access to where he’s throbbing for you beneath the fabric. 

“You’re so pretty.” His voice fails him, the tension of the moment lays thick on his vocal cords and forces him into a rough whisper. A blush runs over the glow of your swarthy skin, it matches the rosy red that’s creeping up and over Hyunjin’s ears. He points the camera and clicks, another one follows when your eyes meet the lens and he groans at the preview on the screen.

“You, you’re the one who looks like…” Your eyes scan up his frame to take in the gray sweater pulled tight over his frame. The defined dips and curves of his arms are highlighted by the clinging fabric and his chest is teased through the deep V of the neck. And the buttons, the fucking buttons, they’re barely doing their job. “God, Hyunjin.”

His head falls back slightly, a muted groan escaping him. “Don’t do that.” His voice breaks at the final word. His eyes are shut tight. “Don’t say my name like that.” He sounds tortured, stuck between a dream and reality and it makes your heart skip. 

Your fingers work the button of his jeans and Hyunjin moves to watch. The brush of your fingers against the bareskin of his stomach makes him dizzy and the sound of his zipper separating to expose his black briefs to you only makes it worse. 

Your lips are on the dip of his V-line. Your tongue traces the flesh, one of your hands presses over his bulging length while the other works to lower his jeans. He lifts his hips, allowing you to get the fabric around the thick of his thighs for better access. His hand sinks back into your curls, his fingers scratch at your scalp delicately electing another moan of his name. His breath hitches at the sweet sound on your wet lips. 

“Take it out, please.” He mumbles, low lids fluttering softly at the sight before him. “Please, baby.”

That’s all that you needed to let it all go, the sediment of your reluctance was washed away in an instant and his bare cock was in your hand even quicker. He’s better than you dreamed of. 

“Oh my god.” You take him in with a moan. Arousal pools in your panties and your hands drag over his length on their own. The camera clicks. You lean forward, taking him in your mouth without warning and Hyunjin nearly drops the camera. 

“Shit, baby.” His mouth falls open, his brows furrowed and his fingers fist in your hair. This is insane. You sink the length of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. You drool around him, slurping and sucking while your eager cunt throbs between your sticky thighs. Your panties are doing a horrible job at containing your excitement. Your jeans are surely ruined but so are you. 

“Fuck, that mouth. Your mouth feels so good, so so fucking-” His own body betrays him, interupting his ramble with a groan and a small buck of his hips. His cock leaks against your tongue as you swirl the muscle around the head. Drool pools at the hilt of his length and runs over his balls. It’s messy. You take him deeper, gripping his hips and scratching over the rising red marks that you’ve sucked into the skin.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that.” Your own arousal starts to become unbearable. Each ragged breath and groan from Hyunjin sends shocks to your system and you need something. With your thighs squeezed tight you buck your hips to match the bob of your head over his cock. You match the rhythm, imagining the head of his cock bullying your swollen walls instead of your throat. You clench around nothing at the thought.

“Get up, c’mere.” He guides your mouth off of him with his hand in your hair, a string of spit connects you to his cock and he lifts the camera lazily to capture the debauchery. “Sit on my thigh” Hyunjin guides his jeans the rest of the way down, taking his underwear with the denim and kicking it off. 

You move to unbutton your jeans quickly, fumbling with the button in a clumsy pursuit that Hyunjin interrupts with his long digits. He hooks his pointer finger into the front of your jeans and pulls you closer into his waiting hands. They settle on your hips, moving up slowly to squeeze the fluff of your waist.

 “How are you this fucking fine?” His fingers pop the button of your jeans with ease, he peels the fabric down your curves at an eager pace that’s translated through the sloppy kisses planted along the hem of your messy panties. Your hands thread through his raven locks, combing his hair back out of his face. You watch him, he’s a vision in your blissed out haze. A dream personified. 

“Do you know how hard it’s been…” He mumbles against your skin, his dark eyes peer up to meet yours in a vulnerable soul gaze. “Do you understand how badly I’ve wanted to touch you...” His fingers trace a soft line up your leg and stop at the print of your pussy through your panties. He can see the dark spot on the gray fabric. He can see that you’ve felt the same. 

Hyunjin runs his pointer and middle finger over the soiled fabric of your panties and rubs a soft circle over your clit. Your breath hitches in your throat. You lean up on the ball of your foot and shift your weight from one leg to the other. Hyunjin continues, rubbing harsher circles and spreading the stain of your slick further as his lips and tongue work at the expense of your stomach.  

You strip yourself of your tank top to give him more access, leaving you in only your panties since you chose to forgo a bra this morning. You gasp a moan when he presses up against the swollen bud. It throbs against the contact and you squirm, whining at the harsh touch. 

“Please, don’t stop touching me.” You plead, pushing yourself further into his touch. “More, please.”

Hyunjin’s eyes shut with a furrow. Your words make his cock jump. He hooks the fingers that are teasing your clit into the hem of your panties to move the ruined fabric to the side. A string of arousal follows and he groans at the sight. “Baby, you’re soaking. You’re, you’re fucking…” He’s leaning in before he allows himself to finish his sentence and places a soft kiss against your exposed center.

You moan, the grip you have in his hair tightening as the simple kisses against your clit turn into desperate kitten licks. “Jin... Hyunjin, fuck.” He hums as he continues, the small licks quickly evolve into long drags of his tongue through your folds while one hand palms your ass and the other holds your waist.

He blindly reaches to the side where he’s discarded the camera, detaching from your core for just a second to grab it and hand it to you. You take it, clumsily putting your arm through the attached strap and situating the device in your hands. Hyunjin dives back in, his lips wrap around your clit and you point and click with a loud moan. 

“You’re gonna make me cum.” Hyunjin moans at the admission, this would be the first time he makes you cum. The first time he sees your beautiful body fall apart for him. “Oh, god, I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” Moans follow, tumbling forward with clumsy thrusts of your hips against his tongue and chin. You’ve never gotten to orgasm this fast. You’ve never fallen apart this easily for anyone but him.

His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it and you snap another picture before falling apart. You're gushing into his mouth with a choked sob. The camera falls from your hands and is saved by the strap around your arm. Your grip in Hyunjin’s hair is punishing as you ride his face through your high. He groans at the pain, pulling away from your core after a second and forcing you forward to sit on his thigh.   

He presses the muscle of his leg up against your core and the squelch of your drenched sex against his skin echoes between you. “Listen to you, angel. Fuck.” Hyunjin licks his lips but you catch them in a heated kiss before he can clean them completely. You taste yourself off of his lips and he melts into you, moaning at the force of your tongue against his. 

His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you over the naked skin of his thigh. “You feel so good in my hands.” He presses his forehead against yours, listening to each heavy inhale you take. “Your pussy is fucking - you’re dripping. God, I can still taste you.” 

“I need you, now. Can’t wait anymore.” You cup his face with one hand while your free one grips the backrest of the chair. You kiss him, it’s soft and slow. Your lips move against each other with a rhythm that only the two of you can access. His tongue pushes against yours, milking moans from your chest while you grind over him. “Wanna feel you, wanna be yours. Please make me yours.” 

“Baby.” He shivers, taking in the slick feel of your arousal dripping over his leg. Your hard nipples brush against the fabric of his cardigan and he suddenly wants it off. Now. “You can’t say shit like that to me. You can’t say that and expect me to not fucking fall apart.”

His breath fans over your lips with a heavy exhale. His swollen pink lips brush against yours with each word. “Don’t you dare hold back.” You tilt his head up, driving his hazy gaze towards your own. “Give me what they wouldn’t let you. Give me everything.” 

A rumble rips through him, something akin to a growl as he shifts you into his lap. Your words, they lit a new fire in him and he needs to feel you now before it goes out. He needs to make you his. “I’ll give it to you.” Hyunjin scoops you up, your core rests over his cock as he stands with you in his arms. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, squealing softly as lifts you. He silences you with a kiss, swallowing the sound while moving across the room to try and get you to the stairs. He wants to take you to your room. He wants to lay you on your bed and finally fuck you the way he’s dreamt of when he fucks his fist to your memory. But he can't make it. 

He only gets a couple steps across the open space of your living room before the aching of his cock betrays him. You barely even make it to the couch, he stops right in front of it, lowering you so that your back rests against the front of the sofa. 

Your hands roam and grab in a hungry attempt to feel his chest against yours. You fist the gray fabric and pull, popping the first two buttons of his cardigan. He groans, sliding his hands under your thighs and pulling your core to his. Your panties are in the way and he moves to change that instantly. He pulls at the fabric, ripping it at the seams and working it down the plush of your thighs. 

“Turn around.” Hyunjin is moving fast, helping you turn around to face the couch. Your knees dig into the fuzz of the carpet, your forearms rest against the couch cushions. You reach your hand back, taking his dribbling length in your hand and spreading his slick. 

“Do you - Do you have a condom?” He pants against your neck, trembling with the brush of your hand over his cock. “Cause I can’t… I won’t pull out.”

The thought of him stuffing you full of his cum has you keening, your pussy clenches and the answer to his question almost vanishes. “In the drawer of the table behind you.”

Hyunjin turns, reaching back to fish through the drawer. He finds what he’s looking for just as your phone starts to vibrate on the coffee table. Hyunjin sees the caller ID before you can turn around. His heart skips and falls to his stomach but he hides it. He moves quickly, kissing you in an attempt to distract you from the call until it goes to voicemail. “Focus on me, baby. Focus on feeling me.” 

He rolls on the condom and breaks the kiss to bend you over the cushions in front of you. You sit up on your knees and he sinks into you slowly, easily splitting you open. You moan in unison, Your eyes rolling back with gasp. “Holy shit, baby.” Hyunjin’s head falls forward, resting on your shoulder. 

“If I move I’m gonna cum. You’re too much, too good. Shit.” Your pussy clenches around him and he hisses, just barely grinding his hips into yours. “I’m gonna have to fuck you again.”

“Please, have to feel you again...” You turn your head to the side straining to see him. “Move, I wan’ it. Please, baby.”

“I got you.” He pulls back, setting into a steady pace. “Oh god, baby. I got you.”

You’re falling apart in an instant. Crumbling in his arms as he wraps them around you and sits you up so that your back is against his nearly bare chest. He whimpers in your ear, kissing the shell of it as you bounce in his lap. Sloppy squelches and skin slapping drown out your moans. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hip and thighs and yours reach back to claw at whatever you can reach. “Hyunjin.” One of his hands dips down to rub tight circles into your clit. His moans pitch higher with each passing second. The rumble of his desperate satisfaction clawing up his throat drags him closer to the edge. 

Your spit gets caught in your throat with a sharp gasp when he hits a spot deep inside you. He angles his hips a bit to hit it again and again and again until you're creaming around him. “Baby, baby, ‘m gonna - fuck - please.”

You’re trembling in his lap, shaking like a leaf in his hold. “Me too.” He pants, biting his tongue with his eyes shut tight. He wants you to cum first. He wants you to fall apart. He wants to watch.

“Right there, right there.” You’re chanting to him, singing and sighing praises mixed with his name. “Mine, mine, you’re -” It hits you, it’s blinding and hot and so fucking good. Hyunjin uses his free hand to tilt your head back against his shoulder. He watches your mouth drop open in a scream. He watches the small drop of drool run over your bottom lip. He watches you fall apart around him.

“Yours.” He finishes your sentence, his rhythm falters, his thrusts get more sloppy by the second. “I’m yours yes, yes I am baby. Fuck, oh god, look at you.” 

He holds you close while you ride out your high. You’re moaning louder now, still shaking in his arms at the overstimulation. Your pussy clenches and throbs around him and it drives him to his end. His arms wrap around you tighter, holding you firm against him as he stills behind you. He moans your name, repeating it like a prayer as he unravels. 

 His breath is hot against your neck, his cock twitches against your pulsing walls and a comfortable silence fills the space for a couple heartbeats until he whispers in your ear, “I love you.” You feel your heart flutter and you whisper back, "I love you."

You’ve both waited. Waited so long to say it. 

“No one is going to keep me from you. Not anymore.” Hyunjin pants, his grip around you loosening and his heart swells with something that goes beyond his longing. It’s a step above needing your presence. It’s deeper. Intangible. “I’ll talk to them. We’ll work this out.”

The vulnerability of the situation floods back in at his vow. A tear escapes you. Blurring your gaze all over again. “Okay.” You leave the conversation there and shift. He pulls his softening cock from your sensitive sex and starts cleaning you up. He finds your clothes and helps you dress before he pulls his jeans back on.

You find your phone as you wait for him to dress, checking to see who called. Your heart skips a beat. “Hyune.” He reads your tone, looking over to you as he zips his jeans. “Check your phone.”

He moves over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his phone and unlocking the device. His heart skips a beat. His eyes meet yours from across the room.  

“They broke up.”

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[reaping-the-benefits]

Part 1

Part 2 to my omegaverse au

MDNI!!!! Content warning: omegaverse, alpha Simon, omega reader, mentions of knotting and cock-warming, p in v, reader has a vagina, doggy style, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), return of the shitty ex (sorry if your name is Devin)

Your heat ends three days sooner than you had expected. Maybe it’s because you finally have an alpha to help take care of it. Maybe you’re pregnant. Who knows? These are thoughts for later. Right now, you’re just ecstatic to have an alpha, especially one as wonderful as Simon.

Speaking of the devil…

Simon groans softly, rocking his hips into yours. “What’s got you squeezin’ like that?” he mumbles into your ear, still a little groggy from sleep.

You must’ve fallen asleep last night with his knot still inside you, cockwarming him all night. The thought must make you clench around him again, because Simon’s groaning into your ear, rolling you onto your stomach. 

“Hips up, love,” he commands. He doesn’t wait for you to follow the demand, already lifting your hips and shoving a pillow underneath them. 

The pillow really doesn’t help much when Simon presses his body against yours, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. His thrusts are slow, almost lazy, as if he’s got all the time in the world. Between his weight on top of you, and his cock rearranging your insides, it’s almost impossible to get out anything besides a whiney moan, struggling to get any air into your lungs. It makes your head spin, and Simon groans in your ear, dipping his head into the crook of your neck to trail kisses along your bare skin.

“Needy fuckin’ thing, ain’t ya?” he groans into your ear, his hips gradually picking up the pace. “Kept you full all night, and it still wasn’t enough.”

You whine in response, trying to push your hips back against his. You dig your hands into the sheets, hoping to find some leverage to help you, but Simon tuts softly, leaning back onto his knees. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand, twisting your arms back. The new position makes you arch your back, face pressed into the sheets. It also gives Simon a better angle to drive himself into you, each thrust hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“S-simon,” you stutter out, eyes rolling into the back of your head. The pleasure is so good, the kind that has your toes curling, and that all too familiar feeling builds up in your abdomen. 

Simon’s free hand snakes around your waist, the touch almost scorching as it trails down your stomach and between your thighs. You must still be sensitive from the previous night, because he just barely swipes his fingers over your clit and you’re cumming, pussy clamping down on his cock. Your whole body shakes, vision blank for a moment as you cry into the sheets.

Simon doesn’t slow down, hips rocking into yours, fucking you through your orgasm and into his own. His thrusting gets sloppy, until he lets go of your hands to drape himself over your back, his face buried into the crook of your neck once more, letting out a rough groan as his hips finally still, shooting his load into you.

It takes both of you a second to come down from that wonderful little high, chests heaving. Simon peppers kisses along your neck and shoulders, nipping teasingly across your bare shoulders. “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he murmurs into your skin. 

You can’t help the whine that you let you, when he slips out of you. There’s an ache in your hips, one that’s been building up over the last few days. Simon just huffs a laugh, pressing a kiss between your shoulders before he leaves the bed.

He comes back a few minutes later with a towel, murmuring soft apologies as he carefully cleans you up. One hand gently rubs over your hips, and you scrunch your face up for a moment, muttering out, “You’re too fucking big, Si.”

“Don’t remember you complain’ yesterday,” he huffs out in response, but there’s amusement in his voice, and it makes you smile in response. “Think you can get up?”

You flop onto your back, eyes narrowing as you think about it for a moment. Technically, yes, you probably could. But walking is a whole different task, and with the ache in your hips and the jelly feeling in your legs, you highly doubt you’d make it out of the bedroom.

“Mmm… no. Carry me?”

Simon rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed with the request. But there’s no hiding the smug feeling in his chest, the smirk on his lips, when he scoops you out of the bed, carrying you bridal style out of the bedroom.

***

You’re in a good mood, as you step out of the apartment, wearing shorts and one of Simon’s shirts. It hangs loose on you, one shoulder visible as the neckline keeps trying to slip off. You have no idea how these shirts always look so tight on Simon, but are so loose on you. 

You had been planning on going to the mailroom. A plan short lived, because your ex is stepping out of his apartment at the same time. You hadn’t really thought about Devin over the last week, far too occupied with your heat and Simon. And Simon’s hands, and tongue, and… well, you get the idea.

Devin stares at you, his eyes narrow for a moment. You can practically feel his gaze, as you turn, still planning on heading to the mailroom. Subconsciously, you pick up the pace, trying to get away from him as quickly as possible.

But Devin’s taller, and he easily catches up to you.

“What? No hello?” he asks, grabbing onto your arm to stop you.

You yank your arm away from him, hissing as if his touch physically pains you. There’s nothing you have to say to him, nothing meaningful at least. Really, if it were up to you, you’d never speak to your ex again. He’d been demeaning your entire relationship, and you had been ready to leave far earlier than now.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you reply curtly.

Devin steps closer to you, a dark look flashing on his face. “Is that any way to speak to your alpha?” he growls at you.

“You’re not my alpha,” you spit back.

Devin snarls, reaching out for you, but he hesitates, his eyes drawn to your neck. To your bond mark. Something akin to anger flashes across his face, and he hisses at you, “Are you fucking kidding me? I knew you were fucking cheating on me, you little-”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. Not when Simon scruffs him like a kitten, yanking him back by the back of his shirt. While your ex had been tall, Simon is practically a giant, towering over Devin with a dark look on his face. Simon leans down to snarl something into Devin’s ear, too quiet for you to hear. But based on the fear on Devin’s face, it’s probably a threat. 

Simon shoves him away, sends him stumbling off down the hallway, back to his own apartment, before turning his attention to you. You’d just watch him get aggressive, but he’s so gentle with you, hands reaching out to cradle your face.

“You okay, lovie?” Simon asks, voice soft and gentle. 

You nuzzle your face into his hands, smiling sweetly. Maybe you should be a little scared, with how easy it was for Simon to manhandle another person around. But you’re not scared of Simon, not when he looks at you with such a softness in his eyes.

“I’m okay.”

He nods, hands dropping away from your face, only for him to wrap an arm around you, tugging you closer to him. “Where we going?”

“To check the mail,” you reply, letting him tuck you into his side, feeling safe and sound.

[wandasaura]

LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly. 

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in. 

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation. 

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic. 

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.” 

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step. 

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought. 

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?” 

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen. 

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave. 

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented. 

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.” 

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now. 

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store. 

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is. 

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.” 

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression. 

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.” 

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you. 

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry. 

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways. 

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable,  but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?” 

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes. 

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.” 

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?” 

-

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night. 

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied. 

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills. 

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there. 

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week. 

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk. 

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?” 

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?” 

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.” 

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.” 

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester. 

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures. 

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this. 

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.” 

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.” 

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back. 

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time. 

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree. 

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months. 

-

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway. 

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself. 

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve. 

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough. 

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.” 

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have. 

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction. 

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands. 

“Good girls get to watch movies.”  She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further. 

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone. 

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it. 

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music. 

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go. 

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.” 

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero. 

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before. 

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy. 

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?” 

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.” 

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking. 

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.” 

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.” 

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week. 

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger. 

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.” 

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer. 

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her. 

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.” 

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?” 

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence. 

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting. 

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?” 

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline. 

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well. 

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.” 

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance. 

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to. 

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.” 

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same. 

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship. 

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.” 

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.” 

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.” 

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions. 

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason. 

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips. 

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.” 

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places. 

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile. 

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention. 

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.” 

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you. 

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.” 

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest. 

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours. 

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.” 

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward  desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs. 

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?” 

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through. 

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air. 

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful. 

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet. 

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.  

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.” 

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true. 

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?” 

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again. 

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour. 

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.” 

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore. 

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs. 

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together. 

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.” 

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way. 

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest. 

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.” 

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away. 

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

[silverskyeline]

'my man' 18+ old man logan x gn!reader

summary: he's irresistible in that work suit of his, so much so that you decide to treat him with it on. (1.3k) tags: blowjob, gender neutral reader, reader is a bit dom, pathetic old man logan, established relationship, for the 'suit' prompt for logan promptober.

'logan isn't one to beg, at least not in words. but in that look? in the way his hazel stare flickers from his cock back up to your lips? he may as well be on his knees pleading for you.'

your fingers splay across his chest, embracing the white fabric of his shirt above his skin. you can feel him beneath it, his muscles firm, only slightly giving way to your practiced touch. his suit jacket has fallen open, revealing himself to you, and that naturally cinched waist you love so much.

his tie sits there, untouched, begging for attention, begging to be pulled.

logan sees that look in your eye, he's not completely oblivious to the way that kinky mind of yours works. sometimes he wonders if you prefer him clothed, just so you can peel it off piece by piece later.

"you're so handsome. . ." you coo, slowly wrapping your hand around his tie, causing it to tighten, "miss you while you're at work."

he rests his head back, letting a sigh slip from his lips in response as his tired eyes lock on you. his hands rest on your hips, enjoying the weight of you above him on the sofa, nestled against him - right where you belong. logan doesn't speak, but the small squeeze he gives to your hips tells you that he missed you too.

"can i. . ." you begin, unable to hide the smirk that starts to curl on your lips, "take care of you?" your fingers trail up and down the buttons of his shirt teasingly, almost innocently.

oh. he knows what that means.

his eyes close for a moment and he inhales deeply, opening his eyes on the exhale. the silence speaks volumes. logan nods, the slow rise and fall of his chest picking up a little, breathing deeply through his nose as he anticipates your touch, anticipates the feel of your pretty little lips wrapped around his begging cock.

you often greet him like this after a long shift, knowing that he has to be on his absolute best behaviour with certain clients in that limo of his. he was so well-behaved, such a good man, how could you not treat him as he deserves when he returns to you?

"thank you. . ." you whisper, leaning down to press soft kisses along his jaw, his salt and pepper beard tickling your skin. smiling against him, you watch as a grin of his own appears - you suppress a giggle at the rare sight.

he lets out a low grumble at the back of his throat as you loosen his tie and begin to unbutton his shirt, taking time on each button. with every new patch of skin exposed to you, you immediately litter it with gentle kisses. kissing over his scars, over his flesh that craves your attention in any capacity you're willing to give.

"been gone all day," you whisper against his skin, pulling his shirt open completely as you nuzzle against his fuzzy tummy, "bet you were thinking about this, huh baby?"

one of his hands on your hips trails up your back to cup the back of your head, his thick digits trailing through your hair. he couldn't lie, his eyes would flick to the clock in the limo as it ticked closer and closer to the end of his shift, knowing you'd welcome him home in the best way.

"shhh," you punctuate your shush with a kiss to his lower tummy as he opens his mouth to reply, moving to unbutton his suit pants, "you don't need to answer me, i can tell. you were already hard when you walked through the front door."

his lips part, a sigh, eyes fluttering closed. how did a dirty old man like him, who'd seen and committed such violence, end up with an angel like you? he thanks his lucky stars every day, his tired old bones begging to be back in your arms the moment he leaves every morning.

you nuzzle your face against the outline of him in his boxers, feeling him tense and his breathing hitch. "that's where you want me, hm?" you smile, peeling back his underwear just enough for him to spring free.

you sit up a little to enjoy the fruits of your labour, and fuck. . . the sight of him laying there, sprawled out, suit shirt open, chest heaving, cheeks lightly flushed with his hardened length just asking to be touched - he's like heaven, a mess, spread out and ready for you.

his expression, the way his lips are lightly parted, brows furrowed in a slightly flustered manner all while those tired eyes stay trained on you. . . you just want to eat him up, breakfast, lunch and dinner all between those thick thighs of his.

logan isn't one to beg, at least not in words. but in that look? in the way his hazel stare flickers from his cock back up to your lips? he may as well be on his knees pleading for you.

and who are you to deny him?

taking his length in your hand, you lean down and lick a stripe along him. he hisses, gripping the back of your hair as his other hand grips the sofa. he's sensitive in his old age, any little flick of your tongue or tug of your hand enough to send sparks throughout his entire body.

you hum against him, licking a few more times before circling his leaking tip with your tongue. he swears he sees stars, but before he can react you're taking him inside your mouth with practiced ease. he gasps at the hot, wet feeling of your lips around him, plunging deep inside as you take him all slowly. words are caught in his throat, whispers of praise dying on his tongue as the feel of him inside your mouth erases all thoughts.

he can't help it, he grabs your hair tightly, his thick fingers taking hold as he pushes you down further. logan knows you can take it, knows you're a good little thing for him, the way your mouth starts watering the minute he opens that door. like you spend your entire day hungry for him, only satisfied when his cock is pushed deep inside your mouth.

his head tilts back, moaning softly into the cool air of the living-room. he's not even fully undressed, shifting in his work suit, feeling your tongue swirl across each vein on his length.

"always take me so- f. . . fuckin'. . . ah, fuck- so fuckin' good, don't you?" logan stutters, desperately trying to regain some sort of dominance over the situation. but you and him both know who's in charge for the time being.

your eyes lock on his as you bob on him, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. he wasn't going to last long like this, a dirty old man, half undressed with his fingers in your hair, coaxing you further.

"gonna cum," he whines, hand balling into a fist on the pillows of the sofa as he feels himself buck up into you. it's a warning, but a useless one, you'll drink him up gladly any time. doubling your efforts, you blow him a little faster, eyes watering at how deep you're taking him. he's practically fucking your throat. any other person might struggle, but you're used to his length, used to taking it like a champ, all for your man.

soon he's spurting white hot cum down your throat, eyes locked on yours as he groans roughly, thrusting into your wet, inviting mouth as he empties himself. you moan in response, swallowing back as much as you can while powering through, moving backwards and forth on his thick, impressive length.

the aftershocks jolt through him, dick twitching, body shaking, thighs clenching as you continue. he's sensitive, so very sensitive, pulling you back by your hair until you slide off him with a wet pop.

his other hand comes down, wiping drool from around your mouth with his thumb, cleaning you up. you pant, looking up at him from between his thighs and he returns your gaze with the most loving look he can muster in his exhausted state.

smiling, you nuzzle against his hand, "how 'bout we get you properly undressed, and i run you a hot bath?"

logan smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkling with affection, "only if you're joinin' me," he grumbles cheekily.

"that was a given, baby." you smirk as you stand, taking his hand in yours to lead him towards the bathroom.

[lumiambrose]

✰ i've fallen addicted to your love

happy birthday sae

featuring: sae itoshi x f!reader

tags: smut, blowjobs, semi public, praise, teeny tiny breeding kink, spanking

wc: 800 - art from wyyy418 on x

you and sae sit side by side comfortably on the couch of your hotel balcony, taking in the beautiful sunset shimmering across the ocean and painting the coast of spain in hues of pink and orange. your fingers are intertwined as you both finally escape from the nosy world outside.

a sigh escapes your lips as you lean back, feeling the cool breeze brush against your thighs. "happy birthday, my love."

any remnants of sae’s bad mood melt away in an instance, looking at you with nothing short of pure affection. "thank you, amor. siempre me alegras el día."

you scoot closer, finally deciding to give him his last birthday present. your hand trails down his arm until it reaches his thigh. "i’m not done yet, love. got one last gift for you."

he gives you a puzzled look as you drop to your knees, caressing his thighs and growing length, revealing your intentions. after teasing the area around his ache enough, you free him from his slacks. earning a quiet gasp from him before taking his erection into your mouth, savouring the taste as though you’ve been deprived of your favourite food. his breath hitches as your lips make contact with him, his fingers running through your hair as you take him inch by inch, sucking on his large cock.

“shit, angel. missed those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” he whispers, leaning down to meet your ears. he lets out small groans and huffs as you bob your head around his length, taking as much of him as your throat can let you. clearly, he’s enjoying it, and it only pushes you more. you trace one hand up his thigh, leaving the spot you marked with your nails to play with his balls. massaging them with one hand while the other continues to dig crescent marks into this muscular thigh.

“you feel so good, angel. taking my cock so well,” he encourages before lightly pushing you down, making you take more of his cock. your eyes water at the feeling of being so full, but you’re desperate to make him feel good. although, to your surprise, he pulls you off. your mouth leaving his cock with a wet pop.

“up, angel. gonna cum in that sweet cunt,” he helps you up before pulling you into a deep kiss, your tongues playfully teasing each other while he guides you to the edge of the balcony, until you’re pressed against the railing.

“turn around.” he coos, “you can do that for me. right, angel?” although he doesn’t let you react as he gently spins you around, so that you’re resting your weight on the balcony. he makes quick work of your clothes, pushing your skirt and panties to the side. for a moment, he simply admires you, bent over, half naked, and ready to be used by him, making him even more desperate to fuck you.

“you’re already soaked, amor. so fucking wet for me,” he says as he prods your entrance with his fingers, gathering some of the slick escaping from you before tasting it. “fucking divine,” he murmurs to himself.

it doesn’t take him long until he’s gripping your hips and rubbing his cock along your folds before entering you. it’s an agonisingly slow pace, making you feel every inch he’s giving you. despite already soaked, the sensation of being stretched out burns nonetheless, but you refuse to complain. eager for sae to continue, you nugde against him slightly, moving yourself on his cock.

“so eager for my cock? how sweet of you, angel,” with that, he starts thrusting inside of you. his one hand holds you firm against the balcony while he uses his other to pull you into another kiss, this one messier, sloppier, even biting down on his lip slightly.

thank god he’s keeping your mouth busy, else you’re certain that everyone on the streets below, would hear the way you moan for him. you let out muffled whimpers at the feeling of his cock inside of you, every thrust aimed as deep as possible. it doesn’t take long until he’s hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, eyes rolling back as you break from the kiss to stabilise yourself, moans getting louder by the second.

with his free hand, he makes his way to your ass, kneading the flesh and landing harsh slaps here and there, enjoying the way it shakes at his every touch. “it’s like this pussy is made for me,” he tells you. “isn’t that right?” you can only nod in response, afraid that replying will result in moans instead.

“i’m close, angel. you gonna cum with me?” he’s against your ear now, sending shivers down your spine. “you gonna cream my cock while i fuck a baby inside of you, hm?” his words make you clench around him, ultimately sending you both closer. it doesn’t take long until he’s spilling his load deep inside of you, making your insides warm. you also reach your orgasm, body shaking as you milk him for all he’s worth, panting and out of breath.

he pulls out, coming down from his high, watching as his cum drips out of you. “thank you, amor,” he pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as though you were a delicate snowflake. “i love you.”

⤷ siempre me alegras el día -> you always make my day

taglist: @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works