#brown fabric background

[wallpapers4screen]

[cartoonytoonycharacters]

I DID THIS!!! :D

I participated in The Wishing Star Zine for the 25th Anniversary of the movie!!!

i'm really proud of how it turned out considering it was my first time doing a lot of things and it took me a lot of time BUT IT IT WORTH IT!!

please check the zine out if you haven't already!!!

@wishing-star-zine

[xo100]

Little dreams - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Y/N takes her son Leo to his first Grand Prix, where they meet his idol, Lando Norris. Lando’s kindness makes the weekend unforgettable, sparking joy for Leo and the possibility of something more for Y/N.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1624

*:･ﾟ A/N: a few days ago I saw on insta that they now released his merch for kids and I immediately had to write a cute fic about it bc the hoodies are absolutely adorable!!!

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The Silverstone paddock buzzed with its usual chaos. Engines roared in the background, journalists hustled between interviews, and fans craned their necks for glimpses of their favorite drivers. Among the crowd, a young boy with a mop of dark hair and a light blue hoodie clung to his mother’s hand, his face alight with wonder.

“Mom, this is the best day ever!” he exclaimed, his small feet practically bouncing with excitement.

His mother, Y/N, smiled down at him, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Leo. But remember, we have to stick together, okay? This place can get pretty crowded.”

Leo nodded earnestly, his big brown eyes scanning the bustling paddock. At just six years old, he already knew more about Formula 1 than most adults, a passion inherited from his mom. Y/N had grown up watching races with her dad, and now, as a single mother, she shared that same love with her son.

Leo’s favorite driver, without question, was Lando Norris. His room was decorated with McLaren posters, his toy cars all painted papaya orange, and his wardrobe—thanks to Y/N—now included Lando’s newly launched children’s merch line. The hoodie he wore today was his favorite piece, and he hadn’t stopped talking about it since it arrived in the mail.

“Do you think we’ll see him, Mom?” Leo asked, craning his neck to peer around a group of photographers.

Y/N crouched down to his level, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “Maybe, sweetheart. We have paddock passes, so there’s a chance. But remember, the drivers are super busy, so we have to be patient.”

Leo nodded, though the excitement in his eyes didn’t dim. He clutched the small notepad and marker he’d brought, just in case he got the chance to ask for an autograph.

As they wandered through the paddock, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia. It had been years since she’d attended a race in person, but seeing it through Leo’s eyes made it even more magical.

“Mom! Look!” Leo’s voice was a mix of awe and urgency as he tugged on her hand.

Y/N followed his gaze and froze. Just a few feet away, leaning casually against a barrier and chatting with a team member, was Lando Norris himself.

“Go on,” Y/N encouraged softly, her heart swelling at the sight of her son’s hero so close.

Leo hesitated for a moment, his small frame vibrating with nervous energy. Then, with a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and marched forward.

“Hi, Lando!” he said, his voice high-pitched but clear. “You’re my favorite driver!”

Lando turned, his trademark grin lighting up his face as he crouched to Leo’s level. “Hey, buddy! Thanks for saying that. What’s your name?”

“Leo!” he said proudly, puffing out his chest. “And look! I’m wearing your hoodie!”

Lando’s eyes lit up as he took in the light blue hoodie, the logo of his brand displayed prominently on the front. “No way! That looks awesome on you, Leo. You’ve got great taste.”

Leo beamed, clutching the fabric of his hoodie. “My mom got it for me. She says you’re really cool, too!”

Y/N, who had been hanging back to give Leo his moment, felt her cheeks flush as Lando’s gaze shifted to her. He stood, his grin softening into something more genuine.

“Your mom sounds pretty cool herself,” he said, his voice warm.

Y/N stepped forward, laughing nervously. “Well, I’ve been a fan of the sport for a long time, so I guess I’m passing it on.”

“You’re doing a great job,” Lando said, glancing down at Leo, who was now rifling through his notepad. “It’s always nice to meet fans like you two.”

Leo held up the notepad eagerly. “Can you sign this? Please?”

“Of course!” Lando took the marker and scribbled a quick note, adding a little doodle of a race car next to his signature.

As he handed the notepad back, he turned to Y/N again. “Are you two here for the whole weekend?”

“Yes,” Y/N said. “It’s Leo’s first race, so I wanted to make it special.”

“Well, I think you’ve done a pretty good job so far,” Lando said, his tone teasing.

Y/N laughed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “Thanks. He’s been counting down the days for months.”

Lando crouched down again, ruffling Leo’s hair. “I hope you have the best time, Leo. And make sure you cheer extra loud for me, okay?”

“I will!” Leo promised, his face glowing with happiness.

As they walked away, Leo clutching his notepad like a treasure, Y/N glanced back over her shoulder. To her surprise, Lando was still watching them, a thoughtful smile on his face.

“Mom,” Leo said, looking up at her. “That was the best moment of my whole life.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full. “Mine too, sweetheart.”

Little did she know, it wasn’t the last time she’d see that thoughtful smile.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of excitement. Leo couldn’t stop talking about meeting Lando, recounting every detail of their conversation to anyone who would listen. Y/N smiled through it all, her heart full as she watched her son’s joy.

But as much as she tried to focus on the moment, she couldn’t quite shake the memory of Lando’s lingering gaze or the warmth in his voice when he spoke to her. It was probably nothing, she told herself. He was just being kind, like he always was with fans.

The next day, Y/N and Leo returned to the paddock, both dressed in their McLaren gear. Leo wore his hoodie again, proudly showing off the autograph Lando had added to the sleeve. The boy was on cloud nine, and Y/N couldn’t imagine how the weekend could get any better.

But then, it did.

As they wandered near the McLaren garage, a team member approached them with a friendly smile.

“Excuse me, are you Leo?”

Leo’s eyes widened as he nodded. “Yes! That’s me!”

The team member chuckled. “Lando mentioned meeting you yesterday. He thought you might like a closer look at the garage. Would you and your mom like to come in?”

Y/N blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. Follow me.”

Leo practically dragged Y/N by the hand as they followed the team member into the garage. The space was a hive of activity, with engineers working on the cars and team members preparing for the upcoming qualifying session.

Lando was there, of course, leaning casually against the side of his car as he chatted with his race engineer. When he spotted Leo and Y/N, his face lit up with a grin.

“Leo! You made it!”

Leo beamed, running up to him. “This is so cool! Thank you, Lando!”

“Anything for my number one fan,” Lando said, ruffling Leo’s hair. He glanced at Y/N, his smile softening. “Glad you could make it, too.”

“I can’t believe this,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “This is amazing. Thank you so much.”

Lando shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to make sure Leo had a weekend to remember.”

Leo was already engrossed in a conversation with one of the engineers, who was showing him the car’s steering wheel. Y/N took the opportunity to step closer to Lando.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice low. “But it means the world to him. To both of us.”

Lando tilted his head, his gaze steady. “I could tell how much this means to you two. And honestly, it’s nice to meet fans who care about more than just the results. You’ve raised a great kid.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the garage fading into the background. Lando’s easy smile and the warmth in his eyes made her feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

“Mom! Look!” Leo’s excited voice broke the moment as he ran over, holding a small piece of carbon fiber. “They gave me a piece of the car! Isn’t that cool?”

“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” Y/N said, crouching to his level. “You’ll have to find a special place for it at home.”

Leo nodded enthusiastically before turning back to Lando. “You’re the best driver ever!”

Lando laughed, crouching down to Leo’s level. “And you’re the best fan ever. Deal?”

“Deal!”

As they left the garage, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Lando caught her eye and gave her a small wave, his smile lingering.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of excitement. Leo cheered his heart out during qualifying and the race, and when Lando crossed the finish line in fourth place, he celebrated as if it were a win.

But the real surprise came after the race. As Y/N and Leo were preparing to leave, a McLaren team member approached them again, this time with an envelope.

“Lando asked me to give this to you,” he said, handing it to Y/N.

Curious, she opened it. Inside was a handwritten note:

Y/N and Leo, Thank you for making this weekend unforgettable. Leo, keep being the amazing fan you are. And Y/N, if you’re ever at another race, I’d love to see you again. Maybe we can grab a coffee sometime? -Lando

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she read the note. She glanced at Leo, who was already excitedly telling a passerby about his piece of the car, and then back at the note.

Maybe, just maybe, this weekend wasn’t just a dream come true for Leo.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

*:･ﾟtags; @gridprincess-04 , @justaf1girl

[craitzart]

A Beautiful Floral Arabesque Vintage Detailed Motif

[girlrotterr]

✩ ⁺ ∿ oh baby, can you hear me moan? ◦　 ♩

roommate!ellie x reader Summary: You come home earlier than usual to find your roommates door slightly ajar. You can’t help but peek inside.

You’re home earlier than usual, and the place is eerily quiet—no random guitar strumming or the faint hum of a video game in the background. Ellie’s always got something going on, whether it’s tinkering with her beat-up acoustic guitar or completely failing at some cooking experiment that leaves the kitchen smelling like burned regret. 

You shrug off your jacket, the familiar scent of scorched food hits you—a sure sign Ellie’s been at it again. 

You can almost picture the disaster waiting in the kitchen. 

Maybe she attempted a stir-fry or tried to get fancy with eggs, which, for some reason, she consistently messes up. You remember the last time: the pan had been abandoned in the sink, its bottom crusted with what could only be described as scrambled cement, and Ellie had offered you an apologetic grin as she flicked at her guitar strings, mumbling something like, my bad…

Still smirking at the thought, you head toward the kitchen, but surprisingly, the mess isn’t as bad as you expected. A single burnt toast sits abandoned on a plate, and beside it, a bottle of peanut butter left open, its lid placed on the edge of the counter. You grab a spoon to clean up, noticing that Ellie’s nowhere in sight. Usually, she’s hovering near her messes, trying to fix it or making self-deprecating jokes to play off the mess.

Curious, you wander down the narrow hallway toward her room, your steps thudding along  the old wood floor. You pass by her door, which is slightly ajar, and immediately slow your pace. 

It’s not like Ellie to leave her door cracked. 

Your hand pauses on the doorframe, a soft click as your knuckles accidentally tap against it. 

You hesitate, thinking maybe you should leave her be, but then—before you can make the decision—a faint noise escapes from inside, followed by a sharp, quick breath. 

Your brow furrows as you inch closer, pushing the door open a little more.

Ellie was sprawled across her bed, her head thrown back against the pillows, messy hair fanning out in every direction. Her breath came in uneven gasps, wet, squelching sounds filling the room. 

Fuck, she was too desperate to even bother taking off her clothes. 

Her brown jacket hung loosely off her shoulders, the fabric wrinkled and tugged from her movements. Her half-unbuttoned flannel exposed her perky nipples, her jeans were pushed down just past her thighs, the belt hanging loosely, the metal buckle clinking against her skin as her hips rocked. 

Your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you take in the sight of her hand pumping beneath her boxers, her movements quick, almost frantic. Heat floods your body, cheeks burning as your eyes lock onto her. 

"Oh fuck, yes," she breathes, her voice low and rough. 

You can’t tear your eyes away. 

Ellie spread her legs wider, her right thigh twitching slightly as her fingers pump deeper inside.  Your cunt began to ache as your eyes caught on what she was holding. It was your panties—your favorite pair—clutched tightly in her fist, the soft lace crumpled and wrinkled between her fingers. You swallowed hard, eyes tracing the wet patch staining the fabric, the glistening spot a clear sign that she had been grinding against them. 

“Just a little more…” she breathes, eyes fluttering shut as she loses herself in the moment, her lips parting slightly. “God, I needed this…” 

“Come on, don’t stop,” she murmurs, biting her lip, her brow furrowing in concentration. “Just a bit more… just like that.” There’s desperation in her voice, a plea.

“Fuck, why is this so good?” she gasps, her voice whining with need, eyes still closed, lost in the sensations of her aching cunt“Why does it feel so much better when I think of you?” 

“Ellie…” you breathe, barely a whisper, but she doesn’t hear you.

She’s too lost in her own fantasy. 

"God, I love this," she moaned softly, her voice husky, as her hand moved frantically between her legs. Her fingers pumped faster and faster, her perky tits bouncing with each thrust, the bed beneath her squeaking. "Can’t get fucking enough."

You knew you should turn away, that you’d crossed a line simply by staying. 

Your breath hitched, the air suddenly too hot, as your hand slipped beneath your waistband, trembling fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. You shifted them to the side, biting your lip as your fingers found your aching clit, tracing small circles. 

You tried to keep your breathing shallow, hoping she wouldn’t hear you over her own sounds. Your soft moans mingled with the wet, squelching sounds filling the room. The heat between your legs became unbearable, a pulse that only grew stronger with each passing second. 

“Need you to fucking take it," Ellie breathed, her voice low and ragged. Her hips bucking harder, the pace of her fingers desperate. 

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, your voice shaky as the ache in your hole pulasated. The need was overwhelming, your hole throbbing with a desperate hunger you couldn’t ignore, your fingers moving faster to keep up with ellie’s pace. 

Ellie’s eyes narrowed, her brows furrowing together as her movements slowed. You watched, breathless, as she pulled her fingers out of her drenched hole, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Without hesitation, she pressed your panties against her soaked pussy, the lace clothing her cunt as her slickness coated the fabric.

With a low groan, she began to grind against it, her hips bucking, pressing harder and faster into the softness of the fabric. Her lips parted, a ragged breath escaping as her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling back against the pillows. The wet lace clung to her, the friction of it only making her grind harder.

"Love this... fuck, your panties... can’t get enough..." Her head fell back again, and she let out a deep groan, her fingers pressing the lace even harder against her aching clit.

A moan escapes your lips, quiet at first, but growing louder as the pleasure builds inside you. 

But in your desperation, you leaned a little too close to the door, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. 

You and Ellie freeze, eyes locking in a moment of shock. 

Ellie’s eyes widen, her mouth agape.Her gaze drops slowly, lingering on your body, taking in the sight of your drenched pussy, your panties pushed to the side, the fabric clinging to your trembling thighs. 

You can hardly breathe. 

Oh fuuck.

You try to speak, to form a coherent thought, but all that escapes your lips is a breathless, “I…” 

Heat floods your cheeks, mingling with the aching throb of your pussy, pulsing with an urgent need. God— the way she’s staring at you, with that raw hunger in her eyes.

“Come here,” Ellie whispered, her chest heaving, struggling to catch her breath. 

You couldn’t resist it.

Ellie shuddered as you slid your hand between her trembling thighs. Shuddering as your fingertip circled her dripping entrance, her soft folds parting easily under your touch. With a needy moan, she guided your finger deeper, gasping as you penetrated her hole. The slick walls of her cunt clenched greedily around your fingers as Ellie bucked her hips, fucking herself on your hand with desperation.

"Fuuuck.." *she groaned, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Her cunt was absolutely drenched, leaking down her thighs as she rutted against you shamelessly. Ellie's needy whimpers filled the room, growing louder and more frenzied by the second.

"Fuck, just like that!" Ellie gasped, her hips bucking wildly. She gripped your shoulders tightly, her nails digging into your skin as she rode your fingers. Her juices flowed freely, coating your fingers and dripping down your wrist.

“Ohh fuckk mee…” She groaned as your fingers slipped out of her dripping hole. 

Without wasting a second, she quickly positioned herself above you, her slick folds hovering mere inches from your own. With a swift movement, Ellie slammed her cunt down onto yours, your aching clits rubbing together as your slick juices mixed. 

“ellie! please please please!" you moaned, tightening your grip onto her wrinkled bedsheets. 

"That's it, baby," she groaned, grinding her hips in tight circles.

She gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer. The sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin echoed, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. Ellie's perky breats bounced with each thrust, her hardened nipples grazing against yours. She gripped your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat, which she attacked with biting kisses and sensual licks.

"Atta girl," Ellie whsipered, "Take what I give you."

[ch0llies]

FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you’d eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other’s first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, creampie, heavy breeding kink, pregnancy, established relationship, etc… if any of these topics upset you… don’t read!

word count: 6k

a/n: thank you so much for 1k followers!! i love you all so much!!

The rain taps gently against the window. Your shared apartment is dimly lit, warm, filled with the faint trace of Chris’s cologne- the kind of smell that feels like home, like safety.

Chris is beside you on the couch, one arm draped lazily over your legs, his other hand scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. The TV plays some old movie in the background, half-forgotten.

Your fingers trace small circles on his forearm, the soft fabric of his hoodie warmed by his skin. He hums in contentment, shifting just enough to glance at you.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asks, voice soft, familiar.

You smile, but your mind is elsewhere, caught in the years before this moment. Because this love didn’t start here.

It started long before.

FIFTH GRADE.

You met Chris at ten years old, standing awkwardly in the doorway of your parents’ friend’s house.

“This is Chris,” your mom said, nudging you forward.

He had messy brown hair, an oversized hoodie, and a smile that made you think he probably got in trouble at school a lot.

He gave you a shy nod. “Hi.”

You stared for a moment, then mumbled, “Hi.”

The adults left you alone, and somehow, within an hour, you were arguing over who could beat who in Bedwars. By the time your parents came back, you were already thick as thieves, plotting some grand scheme to get extra dessert at dinner.

From that day on you couldn’t remember a memory that he wasn’t in.

EIGHTH GRADE

You learned that heartbreak could come before high school.

There was a boy- your first real crush. He was charming, sweet, made you feel special. Until, suddenly, he didn’t.

You found out from a friend that he had been texting someone else the entire time. That everything he said to you, he said to her too.

Chris found you at the park that night, sitting on the swings, kicking at the dirt, trying not to cry.

He sat next to you without a word. Just there. Present. Until you were ready.

“I really liked him,” you admitted eventually, voice small.

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, well, he’s an idiot.”

You sniffled, glancing at him. “You think?”

Chris nodded firmly. “Obviously. He had you and still wanted someone else? That’s just stupid.”

Something about the way he said it, so certain, made your heart feel just a little lighter.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the first time Chris made you feel like you were worth more than the people who hurt you.

It wouldn’t be the last.

JUNIOR YEAR.

Prom was supposed to be perfect.

Instead, your date cheated. Chris’s date bailed.

And somehow, you ended up at prom together- dressed up, but ditching the actual dance for a late-night drive, fast food in hand, sitting on the hood of his car in the school parking lot.

“You think we’re cursed?” you joked, pulling a fry from the bag.

Chris smirked, leaning back on his palms. “Or maybe we just keep picking the wrong people.”

You glanced at him then- at the way the Boston lights reflected in his eyes, at the way he always showed up when no one else did.

For a moment, you almost said something. Almost realized something.

But instead, you just smiled. “Guess we’re each other’s backup plan now, huh?”

Chris had looked down at his feet and let out an almost sad sounding chuckle, “Guess so.”

But he didn’t feel like a backup plan.

Not even then.

SENIOR YEAR.

It wasn’t sudden.

It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment where everything clicked into place.

It was gradual. Like the slow rising of the sun, creeping into your life until one day, you realized- he had always been the light.

Chris had always been there. Through every heartbreak, through every bad decision, through every night spent crying over people who didn’t deserve you.

And then one day, you just knew.

It was late, past midnight, the two of you lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, laughing about something dumb, something unimportant. And then the laughter faded, and suddenly, the air felt different.

Chris was looking at you. Really looking at you.

And for the first time, you didn’t look away.

Your heartbeat quickened. You swallowed.

“Chris.”

He shifted, his fingers barely brushing against yours between the sheets. “Yeah?”

You took a breath.

“I- I think it’s always been you.”

Silence.

His breath hitched, but his fingers curled around yours, holding tight.

“I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “God, I was scared to say it first.”

Your chest ached, but for the first time, it wasn’t painful. It was full.

You smiled, biting your lip. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes soft, full of something you had been searching for in everyone else but only ever found in him.

And then he kissed you.

And everything made sense.

Back in the apartment, Chris shifts beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Just remembering.”

He hums. “Good memories?”

“The best.”

Chris tilts his head, studying you. “Wanna share?”

You turn to face him, meeting the gaze of the boy who had always been there, who had never let you go.

The rain outside is still steady and you let your head rest against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Safe. Home.

“You ever think about soulmates?” you ask, voice quiet but certain.

Chris smirks, locking his phone and setting it aside. “Yeah.”

You lift a brow, tilting your head to look up at him. “Oh really? Always been me?”

He chuckles, low and warm, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaning back against the couch. “Yes, my love. Always been you.”

Your heart swells. Even after all these years, hearing it still makes something in your chest ache in the best way.

Chris shifts, pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around you completely, tucking your head under his chin. You sigh against his hoodie, breathing him in, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh.

For a while, you just exist like that- wrapped up in each other, listening to the rain, the outside world feeling so far away.

Then Chris hums. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

You tilt your head, thinking. “What about some PF Chang’s?”

His face lights up. “That sounds incredible.”

You grin, watching as he grabs his phone and pulls up DoorDash, immediately placing the order without hesitation. Because it’s the city, and neither of you want to go out in the rain when food can be delivered straight to your door.

When the food arrives, you both sit on the couch, containers spread out on the coffee table. You grab a pair of chopsticks, but Chris, like always, opts for a fork, shooting you a smug look like he’s superior for it.

“You’re so uncultured,” you tease, grabbing a dumpling.

Chris snorts. “I just don’t like fighting for my food.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it- just warmth, just love.

As you eat, the conversation shifts to your future, like it always does.

“What about baby names?” Chris muses, stealing a bite of your lo mein like it’s his. “What do you like?”

You smirk. “You planning on knocking me up tonight or something?”

Chris smirks. “Definitely planning on fuckin’ you but, getting you pregnant? We’ll see.”

You shrug nonchalantly, picking up a garlic noodle with your chopstick. “I still want you to cum inside me tonight regardless.”

He chokes on his food, coughing as he glares at you. “Jesus, give me a warning before you say stuff like that. I’m gonna get hard.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder. “I’m serious, though. You ever think about it? Baby names, becoming parents, getting me pregnant…?

Chris swallows, setting his container down before shifting to look at you fully. His expression softens, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admits. “I have.”

You raise a brow. “And?”

He smirks. “You first.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning back into the couch, pretending to think. “I like the name Owen for a boy,” you say eventually. “And maybe Elliot for a girl. Her nickname would be Ellie”

Chris nods. “Owen? That’s my middle name. But Ellie is really cute. I like that.”

“Yeah, goof. It would be named after you, handsome. But what about you?”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand as he blushes softly. “I’ve always liked the name Weston for a boy,” he says, glancing at you. “And for a girl… maybe Aria.”

You smile. “Aria is cute.”

Chris nudges you. “So, our kid’s name is either Owen, Ellie, Weston, or Aria. Got it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart swells anyway. “I can’t imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

Chris grins, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “No rush,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder. “We’ve got time.”

You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair.

“Okay, more future talk,” he says after a moment. “Houses. Where do we end up?”

You hum. “Do you wanna stay in Boston?”

Chris tilts his head. “I like Boston, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter. Maybe something coastal? A place where we can sit on the porch and watch the sunrise. What about my family's cape house?”

You smile. “That sounds perfect.”

Chris grins, tapping his fingers lightly against your back. “Can you imagine being as a full time suburban dad?”

You snicker. “Hard to imagine you giving up city life and inheriting Matt’s minivan to truck our kids around.”

Chris groans. “Please never let me get that goddamn minivan.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

The remnants of dinner are still scattered across the coffee table- half-empty takeout containers, crumpled napkins, chopsticks resting haphazardly in cartons, four empty pepsi cans. Chris groans, stretching his arms before nudging you with his knee.

“You ready to clean this up?” he asks, though he doesn’t look like he wants to move any more than you do.

You sigh dramatically, leaning back against the couch. “Or… we could just leave it here and deal with it in the morning.”

Chris snorts. “No way. You hate waking up to a mess.”

You grumble, knowing he’s right. “Fine. But you’re taking out the trash.”

“Deal.”

The two of you move in sync, cleaning up without much thought- him stacking the containers, you wiping down the table. Domesticity has always been easy with Chris, effortless in a way that feels like breathing. It’s not something you ever have to think about; it just is.

Once the apartment is back in order, you stretch, letting out a soft yawn.

Chris grins, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin against your shoulder. “Bed?”

“Yes.”

You slip into the bathroom while Chris grabs water for both of you. The space is warm, the soft yellow glow of the vanity lights reflecting off the marble. You change into one of your favorite comfy outfits- an oversized, faded navy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your lace bralette underneath, paired with soft gray Calvin Klein boyshorts that hug your hips just right.

The fabric of the sweatshirt nearly swallows you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs, the sleeves hanging just past your wrists. It smells like detergent, a little like Chris, a little like the home you’ve built together.

By the time you start brushing your teeth, Chris enters, setting the water bottles on the counter before glancing at you in the mirror.

His eyes darken immediately, lips parting slightly as he takes you in- the way the sweatshirt slips off your shoulder, the way your shorts sit snug on your curves.

“You trying to kill me, baby?” he mutters, voice thick.

You smirk around your toothbrush. “I just put on something comfortable.”

Chris shakes his head, stepping closer behind you, his hands skimming the edge of the sweatshirt before resting low on your hips. “Yeah? This is comfortable?”

You nod, watching his gaze flick between your reflection and the way his hands trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

You fumble your phone, and it slips from the counter, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

You sigh through your toothbrush, bending over to grab it.

And that’s when you hear it.

A sharp inhale. The softest curse under Chris’s breath.

“Fuck, baby.”

Before you can straighten, his hands slide over your hips, firm but reverent. One palm presses against the small of your back, the other smoothing over your ass, fingers flexing as if he can’t help himself.

You swallow hard, heat creeping up your spine as you grip the sink for balance.

Chris leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You still up for that promise, baby?” His voice is low, gravelly, dripping with want.

Your breath hitches. “What promise?” you ask, playing coy.

Chris chuckles, dark and knowing, his fingers pressing a little more insistently into your skin. “The one where you let me cum inside you.”

Your heart pounds, the weight of his words sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and the heat in his eyes makes your knees weak.

Chris smirks, running his hands up your sides before spinning you to face him fully. His fingers slide under the hem of your sweatshirt, gripping your waist as he pulls you closer.

“You still want that?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

Your answer is immediate.

“Yes.”

Chris’s smirk deepens, satisfaction flickering in his darkened gaze. His grip tightens just enough to make you shiver, his fingertips pressing into your skin like he wants to leave his mark there.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, teasing, as he drags his hands over your hips, his thumbs tracing lazy circles. “You want me to fill you up, make sure you feel me long after, huh?”

You swallow, pulse hammering against your ribs. There’s no hesitation when you nod, your breath hitching as his lips graze yours- featherlight, just enough to tease.

Chris hums, his hands sliding lower, squeezing your ass before lifting you onto the counter with ease. His body slots between your legs, firm and unyielding. He keeps you there, locked in place, his forehead resting against yours.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough with want.

Your fingers tangle in his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

“I want it, Chris,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. “I want you to cum inside me.”

A sharp inhale from him, and then his mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and hunger. His fingers slide under your sweatshirt again, this time with purpose, exploring, claiming.

“Shit, baby,” he groans against your lips, his hands pushing higher, tugging at your clothes.

He doesn’t waste another second. His hands slip beneath your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifts you off the counter with effortless strength. Your arms loop around his neck instinctively, your breath coming in short, heated bursts as he carries you through the dimly lit apartment.

The air between you is thick, charged, every step he takes toward the bedroom making your anticipation coil tighter. His lips find your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat as he nudges the bedroom door open with his foot.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, your body is already burning for him. Chris hovers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, his darkened blue eyes devouring every inch of you.

“Been wanting to do this all night,” he murmurs, fingers dipping under the hem of your sweatshirt again, this time pushing it up with agonizing slowness. “Take my time with you.”

Your stomach tightens as he peels the fabric over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His gaze drinks you in, lingering on your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls beneath him.

“Ma,” he breathes, his hands already roaming again, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You reach for his hoodie, fingers curling around the hem as you tug. “Then take this off,” you whisper, your voice breathless, needy.

Chris smirks but obliges, pulling it over his head and letting it drop to the floor. His toned chest and arms are bare now, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows over the ridges of his muscles.

Your hands roam over his skin, tracing along his collarbones and his happy trail. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, his breathing heavy as he slides his hands down your body, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“These too,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, as he hooks his fingers into them, dragging them down your legs inch by inch. The sensation sends a shiver through you, every inch of your exposed skin burning under his touch.

Once your shorts are gone, Chris kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he leans down, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your soft and wet cunt. His lips trail higher towards your clit, teasing, making your breath hitch.

Then, just when you think you might combust, he pulls back, standing to his full height.

Your eyes lock onto his as he unbuttons his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly. He doesn’t look away- not as he pushes them past his hips, not as they fall to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, the evidence of his desire straining against the fabric.

“Your turn,” you whisper, eyes flicking to the last piece of clothing between you.

Chris smirks, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pushing them down.

Chris lets his boxers drop to the floor, kicking them aside before crawling back over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His hands find your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his weight pressing into you in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Yeahhhh,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking perfect. Every single inch of you.” His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing you all over again, tracing over your curves, his thumbs brushing against your hip bones.

You shudder under his touch, gripping onto his shoulders, needing something to anchor you. Chris smirks against your skin, his lips pressing sloppy kisses over your collarbone, then lower, taking his time.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your peaked nipples. “Never get tired of touching you, tasting you… fucking filling you up.”

Your breath stutters, heat pooling low in your stomach at his words. His hands slide down, gripping your hips firmly, fingers pressing possessively into your skin.

“You love that, don’t you?” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch your reaction. “Love knowing I wanna fill you up every time. Keep you like this-” he grinds his hips against you, slow and deliberate, making you gasp. “So full of me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and Chris groans, rolling his hips again, teasing you, making your body arch into his.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough, edged with need. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

Your head tilts back against the pillows, a whimper slipping from your lips. “I want it, Chris,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Want you to fill me up.”

Chris growls low in his throat, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips ghosting over yours. “Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs. “You know that? The way you say it… the way you look at me like that. I swear, I could spend every fucking day buried inside you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body tightening in anticipation. His fingers trail down, teasing, testing your patience.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asks, voice thick, teasing as his eyes flick up to meet yours. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets. “I need you, Chris.”

Chris groans, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to line himself up, swiping his cock a few times through your built up arousal. His gaze locks onto yours, intense, unwavering.

“Then take it,” he murmurs. “Take all of me.”

Chris doesn’t hold back. He pushes in slowly at first, savoring the way your body reacts to him, how you gasp and clutch at his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. His jaw clenches as he watches you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with need.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “You feel so good, baby. Always so fucking perfect for me.”

Your breath stutters, your nails dragging down his back as he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a slow burn that makes your head spin, and Chris eats up every little sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. He leans back just enough to watch your expression, his hands roaming over your tits and cupping them, mapping every inch of you. “You take me so fucking well. Every time.”

Your head tilts back, a moan slipping from your lips as he rolls his hips, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Chris groans at the feeling, his fingers pressing into your skin like he never wants to let go.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, kissing along your jaw, down to your throat. “Let me in- let me fill you up just the way you need.”

His pace quickens just a little, his control hanging by a thread as he watches you come undone beneath him. Every thrust pushes him deeper, making you gasp, your body arching into his.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. “So fucking tight, so warm- like you were made for me.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, your lips parting in a desperate gasp as he hits the perfect spot inside you. Chris feels it, sees the way your body responds, and it makes something primal snap inside him.

“That’s the spot, huh?” he murmurs, a smirk playing at his lips even as his own breath is ragged. “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna let me fill you up like you need?”

“Chris,” you whimper, your body tightening around him, heat coiling low in your stomach.

“Say it,” he growls, his thrusts getting rougher, more desperate. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you need me to cum inside you.”

Your back arches, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your orgasm hits and you squeeze him impossibly tight. “I need it- I need you to fill me up, Chris. So bad.”

He groans, his grip on you tightening as he thrusts harder, deeper, chasing his release. “F- fuck, baby, I’m gonna- ” His breath shudders, his movements getting sloppier as he buries himself as deep as he can, his body tensing.

A guttural moan tears from his lips as he spills inside you, holding you tight, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His breathing is heavy, his body trembling slightly from the intensity of it, and he presses lazy kisses against your skin as he comes down.

“Shit,” he breathes, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you flush against him. “I swear, I’ll never get tired of this. Never get tired of you.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your fingers through his hair, still coming down from your own high.

Chris doesn’t move for a moment, still catching his breath, his body heavy and warm against yours. But then, as if something clicks in his mind, he shifts, gripping your hips with both hands.

Without warning, he pushes your hips up, angling them just enough to keep every drop of his cum inside you. You whimper at the sudden movement, your body still sensitive, your legs trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Chris- fuck.” you murmur, a dazed little laugh slipping from your lips, “what are you doing?”

His fingers press into your skin, his grip firm, possessive. His darkened blue eyes flick down to where you’re still connected, then back up to your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Making sure it stays,” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing but laced with something deeper, something almost primal.

Your breath catches. “I thought you didn’t want me to get pregnant.”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans down, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips lingering, his hands still keeping your hips in place.

“I never said that,” he finally murmurs, his voice husky, “maybe I like the idea more than I let on.”

Your heart stutters. Heat blooms in your chest, pooling low in your stomach again despite how spent you already are. Chris tilts his head, watching your reaction closely, his smirk deepening as he sees the way his words affect you.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he teases, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “You’re the one who begged me to cum inside you.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually wanted-”

Chris cuts you off with a slow roll of his hips, just enough to remind you he’s still inside you, still keeping everything right where he wants it. You gasp, your fingers gripping his arms.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he murmurs. “You know how fucking good it feels. How right it feels.” His lips graze your ear. “Tell me you don’t love it.”

You swallow hard, your pulse hammering. “I do,” you whisper.

Chris smirks against your skin, his hands tightening on your hips. “That’s my girl,” he breathes. “And who knows… maybe one day, I won’t just be filling you up for fun. Maybe one of these days I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body flushing at his words. Chris just chuckles, his expression dark and full of satisfaction as he kisses you again- slow, deep, claiming.

“But for now,” he murmurs, letting his weight settle over you again, his hands still holding you in place, “we’ll just make sure it sticks.”

Chris finally releases his hold on your hips, letting you relax into the mattress, though he doesn’t pull away just yet. He presses a few lingering kisses against your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your sides as he breathes you in.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice warm and tender now, the teasing edge from before softened.

You nod, still catching your breath, your body pleasantly sore in the best way. “Yeah… just feel like I can’t move.”

Chris chuckles, rolling off of you but staying close. “Guess I did my job right, then.” He smirks, but before you can throw a pillow at him, he leans in, brushing his lips over your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

He helps you up, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as you both make your way to the bathroom. He’s gentle as he runs a warm washcloth over your skin, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your shoulders, wherever he can reach. It’s such a contrast from the heat of earlier, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you slip on one of Chris’s hoodies- something oversized and soft- and climb into bed. Chris follows, pulling you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he buries his face in your hair.

“Love you,” he mumbles sleepily, his lips brushing against your temple.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Love you too, Chris.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

You groan, dropping your forehead against the kitchen counter as another wave of nausea rolls through you. “Ugh, I feel awful.”

Chris looks up from where he’s leaning against the fridge, brows furrowing with concern. “Still feeling sick, baby?”

You nod, rubbing your stomach with a frown. “Yeah… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep feeling nauseous at the most random times. And I swear, I smelled coffee earlier, and it made me want to throw up.”

Chris winces, stepping closer and rubbing a hand up and down your back soothingly. “I’m so sorry, baby. Can I do anything?”

You shake your head, sighing. “I don’t even know what would help. It’s just been happening out of nowhere.”

Chris presses a kiss to the side of your head, his touch warm and comforting. “Maybe you just ate something bad? Or you’re stressed?”

“Maybe,” you mumble, but you’re not entirely convinced. “Are you sure the chicken last night was fully cooked?”

“I check it twice. It was.” Chris gives you a sympathetic look. “Tell you what- I’ll make you some tea, and then we can just chill on the couch, yeah? I’ll rub your back, we can watch whatever dumb reality show you wanna put on.”

That makes you smile a little, and you nod. “Okay. That sounds nice. Thank you baby.”

Chris grins, pressing another kiss to your forehead before heading to the kettle. “Anything for my girl.”

ONE WEEK LATER

You groan as you lean over the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on your face in a desperate attempt to shake off the lingering nausea. It’s been happening every morning now- like clockwork. And as much as you’d been hoping it was just a stomach bug or something that would pass, it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Baby?” Chris’s voice is groggy, laced with sleep as he steps into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter. “Same as yesterday. And the day before that.”

Chris frowns, stepping closer, his hands settling on your waist as he looks you over. His touch is warm and grounding, but when his thumbs brush against your sides, you wince subconsciously.

Chris notices immediately, his brows drawing together. “Hey… why’d you flinch?”

You shake your head, still trying to wake up fully. “I didn’t-” But then his hands slide up a little higher, skimming under your hoodie, and the moment his thumbs brush against the curve of your breasts, you jolt.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Whoa. Okay. That was a reaction.”

You frown, stepping back slightly, your arms crossing over your chest. “They’ve just been… weirdly sensitive lately.”

Chris tilts his head, his gaze flicking down before his lips curl into the smallest smirk. “Not to mention…” His hands return to your sides, his touch slow, almost hesitant. “Baby, I swear to God, they look bigger. Like huge. It makes me so horny.”

You scoff. “Chris!”

“I’m serious!” He gives you a pointed look, stepping back just enough to take you in. “They’re… I don’t know, plumper? And you’ve been nauseous for over a week. You’re throwing up every morning. You don’t think…?”

You blink at him, brows furrowing. “Think what?”

Chris’s expression shifts- something between excitement and pure realization flickering across his face. He licks his lips, searching your eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“Baby,” he says slowly, carefully, “you don’t think you could be… pregnant?”

The words hang between you, heavy and thick in the quiet morning air. Your stomach twists- but not from nausea this time.

Your lips part slightly, a small laugh slipping out- almost disbelieving. “Chris, there’s no way…” But then, as you say it, the last few weeks flash through your mind. The exhaustion. The cravings. The nausea. The sensitivity. The way you haven’t used a condom with him in months and he hasn’t been pulling out.

Chris watches you closely, his smirk fading into something softer, more serious. His hands settle on your hips again, thumbs rubbing slow circles. “Baby,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, “when’s the last time you had your period?”

Your stomach drops. Your mind races as you try to remember, but the more you think about it, the more your chest tightens. You should’ve had it by now. You always keep track. But with everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed.

Chris sees the realization hit you. His hands tighten just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. “Shit,” you whisper.

Chris lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Shit.”

You look up at him, heart pounding, eyes wide. “Chris… what if I am?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just looking at you. And then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin.

“Guess we should find out.”

Chris doesn’t waste a second. The moment the realization fully settles between you, he’s already moving. He grabs his phone and wallet off the nightstand, shoving his feet into the closest pair of sneakers.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your forehead before darting toward the front door.

You blink, still in shock. “Wait- Chris, where are you-”

But he’s already gone.

You stand there for a moment, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. This has to be a joke, right? There’s no way this is actually happening. But as you place a hand over your stomach, the reality starts creeping in.

A few minutes later, you hear the front door swing open again, followed by the unmistakable crinkle of plastic bags.

“Alright, baby, let’s do this!” Chris’s voice is practically beaming as he jogs back into the bedroom, his arms full of pregnancy tests. You stare in disbelief as he drops multiple boxes onto the bed, some falling onto the floor in the process.

“Chris,” you say slowly, eyes widening. “What the fuck is this?”

“Options,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I got every brand they had. Digital ones, line ones, ones that apparently have smiley faces-” He pauses, flipping a box over before tossing it onto the pile. “I didn’t know there were this many kinds, honestly, but we’re covering all bases.”

You shake your head, staring at the sheer amount of tests in front of you. “Ten tests, Chris?”

“At least ten,” he corrects, grinning.

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Why are you so happy about this?”

Chris hesitates for half a second before letting out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly? I don’t know. I just… am.”

You search his face, expecting to see panic or nerves, but all you find is pure excitement- like he wants this. Like the idea of you possibly carrying his baby is something he’s already embracing.

Your stomach twists, but not in a bad way. It’s terrifying and overwhelming, but with the way he’s looking at you, it also feels… oddly okay.

Chris claps his hands together, bringing you back to reality. “Alright, let’s go. Go pee on some sticks.”

You snort despite yourself. “Some?”

“All of them,” he corrects, already scooping up the tests into his arms. “We need solid confirmation, baby. I need a goddamn unanimous decision from these things.”

Shaking your head, you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair before turning toward the bathroom. “This is insane.”

Chris follows right behind you, grinning. “This is science.”

You roll your eyes, but as you close the bathroom door behind you, Chris leans against the sink, watching you with nothing but warmth in his gaze.

“Whatever happens,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Your chest tightens, and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Wait! Let me see what they say first. Don’t pee on anything!” Chris rips open one of the boxes with the same energy he probably had during his high school finals. He pulls out the instructions, unfolds them with an exaggerated flourish, and clears his throat.

“Alright,” he announces, squinting at the paper. “Step one: Remove the test from the wrapper.”

You snatch a test from one of the open boxes and rip it open with ease. “Done.”

Chris nods approvingly, scanning the next step. “Step two: Hold the absorbent tip in your urine stream for five seconds. Or dip it in a cup of urine for twenty seconds.”

You give him a flat look. “Absorbent tip?”

“Hey, I’m just reading what it says,” Chris says, holding up his hands in defense. He glances down again, then smirks. “Oh- this part’s important: Make sure you don’t pee on the result window. We need a clear reading, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the groundbreaking information, Chris.”

“Just looking out for accuracy.”

You shake your head, but your heart is thudding in your chest. This is actually happening.

Chris notices your hesitation and softens slightly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Chris nods, setting the instructions down on the counter before placing his hands on your hips. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together. Got it?”

You nod, exhaling against his chest. “Got it.”

He smiles, giving you a small squeeze before stepping back. “Alright, go do your thing. I’ll be right here, being incredibly supportive and not at all annoying.”

You snort. “Mhm.”

Chris gasps dramatically. “Wow. So much doubt for the man who just spent a ridiculous amount of money on pregnancy tests for you.”

Shaking your head, you grab the cup from the counter- because there’s no way you’re risking peeing on your own hand in the middle of a life-altering moment- and step toward the toilet. “Okay, turnaround now.”

Chris throws his hands up. “I literally fucked this baby into you?!”

“We don’t know if there’s a baby yet!” You roll your eyes but do what needs to be done, filling the cup and carefully dipping the first test. Then another. And another. You cycle through each one, following the ridiculous variety of instructions. Five seconds for one. Twenty seconds for another. One where you had to cap it immediately and lay it on a flat surface.

Chris stands by the counter, eyes wide as he watches you line up ten tests in a perfect row.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “That’s a lot of science happening at once.”

You let out a breath, setting the last test down. “Now what?”

Chris grabs one of the boxes, scanning the fine print. “Now we wait.”

You swallow hard, wiping your hands on a towel before gripping the edge of the sink. “How long?”

Chris squints at the instructions. “Three minutes.”

Three minutes.

Three minutes to find out if your whole world is about to change.

Chris must sense your nerves because he steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing your jaw. “I can set a timer. Or we can just stare at them aggressively until something happens.”

You let out a breathy laugh, leaning back against him. “Okay… let’s do it.”

Chris’s phone is already in his hand before you even say anything. He holds it up, pressing record with a grin.

“For our future kid,” he says, his voice full of barely contained excitement.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know if it’s positive yet.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head. “I have a feeling, baby.”

Your stomach twists as you reach for the first test. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you can feel Chris’s anticipation radiating off of him. With a deep breath, you flip it over.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your heart stops.

Chris lets out a sharp inhale, but before either of you can fully process it, you reach for the second test.

Positive.

The third.

Positive.

Every. Single. One.

Chris stares at them for half a second before a wide grin spreads across his face. “Holy shit.” His phone lowers slightly as he turns to look at you, his eyes shining. “Baby- holy shit!”

Before you can react, he grabs you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You gasp, gripping his shoulders as a laugh bubbles out of you, your nerves momentarily forgotten.

“Chris!” You giggle, clinging to him as he twirls you.

“I knew it,” he exclaims, setting you down just enough to crash his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, but full of so much love that your chest tightens.

Then, before you even realize it, tears start slipping down your cheeks. You pull back slightly, your hand flying to your stomach as a sob escapes you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Our baby is in my stomach.”

Chris freezes, his hands still gripping your waist. He stares at you like he’s just now fully comprehending it, like the reality of it all is truly sinking in. His lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

“Our baby,” he murmurs, and the way he says it- so full of awe, of love- makes your heart ache.

But then, almost instantly, his entire demeanor shifts. His grip tightens, his eyes darting around the room like his brain is moving a mile a minute.

“Shit. I need to tell my mom. And my dad. And my brothers.” He steps back, running a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “What about your family? Should we call them first? And the apartment- fuck, we need to start looking at places with an extra room. Or at least be ready for when she grows up- ”

You blink. “She?”

Chris stops, looking at you dead serious. “I don’t know, baby, I just know. I have this gut feeling that my new babygirl is growing inside you right now.”

Your heart clenches at the sheer certainty in his voice.

But then he’s spiraling again. “Oh God, we don’t have anything for a baby. I need to research cribs- what’s the safest crib? And strollers- shit, what’s a good stroller brand? I don’t know anything about strollers! And- fuck, baby, we’re twenty-one. I haven’t even married you yet!”

He turns to you, panic written all over his face now, and for the first time ever, you’re the calm one.

You step forward, reaching for his hands, squeezing them tightly. “Chris, baby, breathe.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, but he listens, taking a deep inhale as his eyes lock onto yours.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, pressing his hands against your stomach. “The way you reacted tells me all I need to know. You’re gonna be an amazing father.”

Chris swallows hard, his panic giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. His fingers flex against your stomach, like he’s already trying to connect with the tiny life growing inside you.

“You think so?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You smile, cupping his face. “I know so.”

Chris exhales shakily, closing his eyes for a moment before leaning forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

And in that moment, standing there in the tiny bathroom with ten positive pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, everything feels exactly as it should be.

MASTERLIST

tags: @bernardsbendystraws @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[drgnflyteabox]

daddy cool, side B ⋆˙⟡

simon riley x fem!reader (background price x reader) summary: you make a movie with simon. ↪or, john produces. tags/warnings: making a porno, rough sex (p in v), oral (f + m), please forgive my dialogue i'm trying my best, degradation / slut shaming, squirting, a little dubcon, size kink, a little pain, unnegotiated kink, john is mostly in the background but he's there

“Alright honey, move a little to the right.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that, sweetheart. Spread those legs a little.”

John had been your fluffer earlier, licked you until you were rarin’ to go, wet and soft and needy. He can probably still taste you on his mustache.

You’re taking photos now, leaning back on the bed, bare wet pussy spread for John and the camera. Your two fingers create a perfect V, showing him your winking hole, your pert clit.

He really wasn’t lying about producing– you hadn’t deeply suspected him, but there was a niggling little thought there that he was maybe putting it on to get you in bed. It had worked either way, but nice to know he’s honest.

Ghost, the masked man. Cheesy, but popular with women, John says. They like the mystery.

���Touch yourself a little,” John shifts the camera as you do, lightly petting your clit with two fingers, “that’s good, that’s real good.”

You dip two fingers into your hole, wet from John’s earlier attention, biting your lip in what you hope is a seductive manner for the camera. John chuckles low in his chest, cock pushing against his tight pants. The view makes your mouth water, but you aren’t here for John today.

You’re here for the giant of a man that walks through the doorway, wearing scuffed blue jeans and big black boots. The mask isn’t what you’d imagined, but it fits over the tight white t-shirt he’s wearing. A skull.

“Ah, Simon,” John turns to greet him, “there you are.”

Simon’s cock is already chubbed up in his jeans, long and thick against his leg. For a perverse moment you imagine what it would look like for he and John to push their bulges against each other, groaning, pec squeezed against pec, and your pussy clenches.

You wish John would perform, if only just to tag team you with this meaty specimen of a man.

Add it to the spankbank.

“John,” Simon greets him back, stepping into the room. He’s not even looking at you, which is hot for some reason you don’t care to parse. He lifts a boot and steps onto John’s stool, “fresh meat?”

John laughs, which seems to be the only answer Simon needs before he turns towards you finally and pins you to the bed with his gaze. 

Your fingers pause, still dipped halfway inside, clit pulsing against the heel of your palm.

“Pretty,” he says, and just as you’re about to say thank you, “nice, Cap,” a pause, “picked a ripe one.”

He walks until his shins hit the bed, looking down at you and your spread legs, where your hand is still and your pussy drips onto the sheets. His eyelashes are pale, ghostly, strangely beautiful against his brown eyes. 

You wish you could see his face, his expression, but John was right– they do like the mystery.

There’s a little hint of a scar that pokes up from his cheekbone, pulling the skin of his bottom lid a little, but there’s no time to examine him in detail.

“Right then,” John interrupts, “let’s take a few pictures.”

The first pose he puts you in is on Simon’s lap, explicitly directing you to press your pussy against his jeanclad thigh and make a little wet spot for us, will you, love?

It’s honestly humiliating, but you’re so tuned up that the heat of your embarrassment only adds to the tension.

“That’s good, that’s real good,” John murmurs, instructing Simon to put a heavy hand on your lower back, pressing you further into his leg.

Your clit drags against the fabric, and the camera snaps your open mouthed gasp.

“Pull her shirt down,” and Simon does; pulling your tanktop down until your tits fall out, soft and peaked, pressed against the worn fabric of his shirt.

You’re looking over your shoulder, hazy, bottom lip between your teeth. John snaps a few more before he places you in the next position.

All you can stare at is the dark patch on Simon’s jeans.

“This one’s for the cover,” he says, getting Simon to lay down and pull his jeans a little down– showing off the line of hair leading to the biggest tease; the beginnings of his bush, trapped under just his jeans.

He’s gone commando. All you can see is the little pudge of his pubis as it’s squished by his waistband, a tasty little tenderloin you want to bite.

You’re next; standing over Simon, legs wide open, looking down at him with your tits out and your thighs wet. It’s a movie-esque kind of pose, and in another universe maybe you’re decked out in cheap sci-fi costumes for a blockbuster.

Then he’s ready, and you have to re-dress. Tanktop goes back on, shorts get slid right back up your legs, and he puts you on top of the covers.

Simon prowls like a panther, graceful in his movements despite the sheer size of him. You’re leaned back, elbows on the bed, breathing harder the closer he gets.

“Felt that wet little pussy,” he says, voice low, “she’s more than ready for me, isn’t she? Probably soaking those slutty shorts.”

“Uh huh,” you murmur, legs outstretched and straight before him. 

John had told you a little bit of the ‘script’ beforehand, a loose skeleton to follow outside of improv, so you aren’t shocked when he pulls the button open on your shorts and pulls them down in one fell swoop.

“Look’it that,” his lips move under the mask. You wonder if he’s licking his lips, looking at your pussy like that.

He takes you by the ankle, dragging you across the mattress until you’re flat on your back and looking up at him.

“Haven’t even seen my cock yet,” he laughs meanly, his other hand reaching to take a big squeeze of his cock through his jeans, “and look’it that. Slag if I’ve ever seen one.”

Your face burns, breath stuttering. This wasn’t a part of the little warning John had given you, but you’re not that mad about it. Hot, humiliated– but not opposed.

Simon looks at you for barely another second before he’s crawled up to your face, knees on either side of your head.

Oh.

“Gimme a kiss.”

You lean forward, lips pressing against his rough jeans. He smells good, a little like cigarettes but there’s that musk you love so much. You mouthe against him until he pulls your head back to the mattress by your hair.

He pulls down his jeans, freeing a mostly plump cock that flops onto your cheek. Oh man, it’s weighty. The nestle of curls at the base of it is like a magnet for your eyes, too.

“I can take it all the way,” you look up into those inscrutable eyes.

“Yeah? Prove it.”

You take the tip first, licking it lewdly, turning to the camera every so often like John had told you to– just let them see those eyes, honey. Show them how much you like it.

So you do. You give big, wide eyes as Simon gets impatient and starts tunnelling down your throat, shoulders trapped beneath his heavy thighs.

When you gag, he laughs lowly, keeping you there. He runs a rough thumb over the taut stretch of your upper lip, down to your lower lip, palm cradling your jaw.

“That’s a good girl,” he slides backwards, jeans scraping your nipples through your tanktop, hardly giving you but a moment before he's pushing back in. Rinse and repeat.

It’s like with John, only Simon’s cock is a little different. Longer, and curved where John’s is thicker. The tip pokes you in the back of the throat, sometimes at the roof of your mouth from the awkward angle.

You feel crushed underneath him despite your entire lower half being free, legs coming up and thighs squeezing together as the camera pans towards them and John murmurs, “show me that pussy, honey.”

So you spread your legs, humiliated at the gluk-gluk-gluk sound coming from your throat but gushing impossibly more under the camera’s lens.

“That’s a pretty picture,” Simon grunts, sliding out of your mouth to tap the head against your lips, letting you stick your tongue out and drool drip down your chin, “yeah. Keep your mouth open.”

This is mostly for the camera, the way he rubs himself on your face, the way you lay there and keep your mouth open. You don’t have to fake the desperation, but still.

Simon’s a pro.

He leans back, fingers finding your bare cunt and sliding a finger along your slit. Slippery, swollen, the contact is like drinking water in the desert. Like the satisfying pleasure-pain of pressing down a bruise.

His finger slides up and down shallowly, never stopping where you need it while you kiss the underside of his cock.

“This cock-hungry pussy’s soakin’ my fingers,” his eyes squint, like he’s grinning under the mask, “reckon I could solve a drought with this,” he lifts his finger to your mouth, slipping them in for you to taste yourself.

Where the fuck did John find this guy?

You play along, face burning, sucking his fingers with a soft moan.

After a moment, he leans back and gets off you, pulling your tanktop down as he does so your tits bounce back out. Hello again, ladies.

There’s a small moment of stalling where John sets the camera up on a tripod near the end of the bed and Simon drags you so your head is towards the headboard, and then it’s 3 2 1 action again.

“Hands on the headboard,” Simon gruffs, then slides onto his belly and presses his mask to your cunt. Your hands fly to the headboard, hanging on for dear life as he inhales through the fabric.

Jesus. He rubs the knit on your swollen pussy, up and down, spreading you open with his covered chin and then pressing his nose to your clit.

You don’t have to exaggerate your sounds. They come naturally, rising in pitch when he pushes his mask up just enough to see his pink, scarred lips wrap around your engorged clit.

He’s greedy, eating more to taste you than to please you.

When he lifts his head, mouth wet and tongue poking out to lick the remnants of your slick, stopping at the cusp of your orgasm, you give the camera at the end of the bed your best wounded animal look.

Simon doesn’t take his jeans off when he gets back up to his knees, shuffling to kneel between your legs.

You notice all too late that he hasn’t fingered you, not even a little dip. He’s licked you, sucked on your clit until you were keening, but there’s a deadly focus in his eyes as he puts the fat head of his cock against your hole that tells you you’re in trouble.

“Got a good look at this?,” he grunts, tilted towards the camera, “this is the best part.”

Oh fuck, he pushes in and it feels like a hydraulic press; crushing pressure, a sting, stretching taught around him as you gasp–

“Pinching me,” he curls his lip, abdomen tensing, “Jesus.”

“Oh god, fuck,” you shiver, trying to keep your knees spread, wincing and gasping in deep breaths for air as he carves a space inside you for himself.

“Relax,” he squeezes in further. Stretching, painful, intensely delicious, “relax that cunt for me, sweetheart. Let her get what she needs. ”

You try, only noticing John as he palms his bulge, watching your pussy struggling to take Simon’s cock.

It takes a few see-sawing movements of his hips before you finally loosen a little around him and he really lets loose. Doesn’t let you take a breath, just starts pounding like he’s getting a bonus for it and you shout with surprise.

A vision of an adventuring viking comes to mind, beaten and lashed by storm, the only respite to hang onto the mast in the middle of a ship… that’s the headboard for you.

He fucks like animal, but it’s still as graceful as the way he moved when he first entered the room. How can a man that looks so rough, is so big, roll his spine and slap his hips into yours in such a dancerly way? His pace is inhuman.

His cock spears into you like he’s digging for gold, tilted just so that you’re loud with how good it feels and almost wincing every time he pokes a little too deep.

You think maybe it’s on purpose, what with the way he stares down at you, big hands coming to hold your midsection and dig his fingers into your skin. 

Yeouch, that feels good.

“There she is,” he fucks you deep, unrelenting, groaning when he feels your hole start to squeeze, “doesn’t even need a hand, then,” he laughs.

He’s right. You don’t. Your abdomen squeezes, orgasm building, the first of its kind– without any kind of contact on your clit, that is.

You try to hold back for as long as possible, try to make eyes at the camera again, but you’re lost to the feeling of getting fucked so good and so deep. The feeling builds and builds and steamrolls you, legs shaking where they’re spread, ears going deaf with the blood rushing in them.

A scream bursts forth from your throat at the same time as you literally spray, slick soaking Simon’s jeans and the bottom of his t-shirt. 

There’s no time to be embarrassed with the hard, punitive thrusts he gives you as he rides his orgasm out behind yours, filling you up with hot come.

You’re boneless, after. Laying nice and still for John to get closeups of your creampie’d pussy, for Simon to rest his spent cock between your pussylips and grin under his mask, tucking himself back into his soiled jeans as John dismisses him.

He’s damp everywhere, but he strolls over to John’s little minibar area and pours himself a whiskey like it doesn’t bother him.

John doesn’t give you a break, either. He pans the camera to the mess on the bed, the wet spot you’d caused by squirting all over Simon’s cock.

John grins at you from behind the camera.

“You’re a natural, honey.”

[bevpttrsn]

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Great Bucky Bake Off | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One shot - 3.5k words

An Avengers retreat takes a turn for the better when Bucky decides to eat your pot brownies… all of the pot brownies.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content. Drinking, casual drug use, Avengers wearing onesies for reasons, very flirty Bucky, p in v & oral sex. Rated R for ridiculous.

A/N: Happy birthday, Bucky Barnes!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Okay, ‘fess up, who ate all my brownies?” You turned to stare down the rest of the team, admittedly a little slow on your feet already.

The scene in the living room could only be described as chaotic. When Tony suggested he fly the team out to his remote cabin for “rest, recuperation and team building”, you had been fully on board. You were even more on board when he had you buy everyone fluffy animal onesies and you’d signed yourself up to a lifetime of being obsessed with your job the day you received an email to source as much weed, alcohol and Asgardian liquor as possible. Being the Avengers PA certainly had its perks. 

“Not me!” Steve admitted, far too quickly. “I didn’t eat them.” He shook his head, sending the dog ears on top of his onesie flopping about. 

You narrowed your eyes, “Well, you sure know something.” He looked the picture of innocence until he pulled Sam into the conversation. 

“Tell 'er Sam, we dunno nothin’ 'bout brownies." 

"Nuthin’” Sam shook his head too, his beer sloshing dramatically in its glass and wetting his hand. “My wings!” He steadied the bottle and brushed the stray liquid from the soft Eagle wings that made up the arms of his outfit.

“Have you spoken to James?” Natasha asked, leaning next to you and swiping crumbs from the plate, the last of the joint you’d shared placed delicately between her fingers. Somehow she managed to make the black onesie look very stylish, the arms rolled up to the silvery spiderwebs embroidered on the elbows and shoulders.

“James? Bucky?" 

Organising and taking part in retreats was your second favourite part of your job. Bucky took the top spot, miles ahead of everything else with his handsome, stubbled face and gruff but gentlemanly manner. Despite being part of the team for a while, he still kept to the background, staying out of the way and keeping quiet. He was always especially polite to you, holding the door and making sure you were included all the time, even if he never really stayed that long at Stark’s parties or Steve’s team building exercises.

Deep down you hoped it was because he saw you the same way you saw him, in your dreams, surrounded by little hearts. 

But life just wasn’t that kind, and you took his friendship gladly if that was all he could give. 

"Why would Bucky eat them, can he even get high?” You slid forwards, leaning on the counter and clutching the empty tray. 

“Bambi!” The four of you whipped around, surprised. Bucky bounced into the room with an enthusiasm that Steve hadn’t seen for decades. He also had chocolate on his cheeks and crumbs all down his front making him instantly guilty. You looked down at your onesie, light brown and speckled like a deer with tiny antlers on the hood. 

“Ha, yeah, like Bambi.” You giggled.

“And I’m Thumper!” He laughed back pulling the hood of his own pyjamas up and letting the long, grey, ears drop in front of his face. 

“Because you punch people?” You were momentarily confused, your brain refusing to work and instead focusing on the too tight fabric around Bucky’s arms. 

Behind you Sam coughed to cover his laughter and Natasha turned away, eyes full of mirth. 

“No! Thumper in Bambi!" 

"The girl rabbit?” Tony dropped down onto the huge sectional couch, surprisingly sober. Although you were sure that had more to do with promising Pepper to keep the cabin safe, rather than any personal choice. 

“Thumper is a boy.” Bucky insisted, eyes never leaving yours, his smile boyish and relaxed.

“How would you know?” Sam scoffed, leaning over the back of the couch, positively gleeful when Steve whispered that Bambi was also a boy and they fell back laughing together.

“Because, Sam, I’ve seen Bambi." 

"What?” Tony’s snort of derision didn’t go unnoticed, but you shot him a glare. This was possibly the most relaxed you’d ever seen Bucky, you wouldn’t be letting anyone, including your boss, spoil it. 

“I saw Bambi, in 1942, when it first came out,” he said proudly. 

“That’s right, I remember!” Steve jumped up, the Asgardian liquor cocktail that Natasha had rustled up earlier starting to take effect. “We went with your sisters, Rebecca cried when Bambi’s mom got shot and he was all alone." 

"Don’t spoil it, Stevie.” Bucky chastised, turning back to you as quickly as possible, “Have you seen it? Do you want to see it? We could see it?”

You nodded but he ignored you, continuing to talk as he got closer and closer, backing you into the kitchen island where the empty brownie tray dropped with a clang. 

"We can go, I’ll take you, Saturday, you can have as much popcorn and soda as you like.” His right hand swayed by his side, nudging closer to yours until your fingers touched. “What d'ya say?" 

Every fibre of your being screamed yes, just as you’d internally jumped for joy whenever he came by your office or handed you a coffee. But those times you were sober, calm, collected. Now you were four drinks and half a joint deep, floating off into the clouds. Professional judgement be damned. 

So you screamed "Yes!” outloud for once. 

He beamed, throwing his arms around you and squeezing just a little too tight until you squeaked. “Good, gonna be my best girl, my Bambi and I’ll be Thumper, buy you lots of popcorn and - oh - you’re really soft.” His hands found the back of your hood, pulling it up to sit on top of your head, letting it fall into your eyes. 

“Yeah it’s nice, right?” 

“S’fluffy.” Bucky’s thumbs brushed over your lips and down your neck, just inside the hood for a moment, before finding your shoulders and arms, rubbing the fuzzy material until you felt static build on your skin. “You’re really cute, y’know,” he whispered. “My own little Bambi.”

“I know.” You giggled back, picking up the joint again so you’d had something to do with your hands other than grip the front of your own outfit. 

“We didn’t smoke weed back in the day,” he said, conversationally, as if he didn’t have his hands in your pockets, pulling out your lighter and a lip balm. 

“No?” You took a drag, blowing the smoke to the side politely. 

“Did a lot of cocaine though, keep us awake on missions.” 

“Jesus. That’s…intense.” 

He nodded, watching your fingers against your lips, the little pout when you exhaled. 

“Can I?” 

“You ate a whole tray of brownies, Bucky, I don’t know if you should have anymore.” You extended your arm away from his grabby hands, hoping Natasha would come and take it away again, but to no avail. Instead, he lifted you onto the counter, pinned your leg down and followed the line of your arm to your outstretched hand. His lips brushed the backs of your fingers when he took the twist of paper into his lips. You waved him over and he held his breath as he returned to you, leaning in close and only exhaling when you pulled your hoods together, his nose against yours. 

Instinctively you inhaled, the rush of smoke and the smell of Bucky was overwhelming. You giggled again, trapping him against you with an arm around his neck and your legs around his waist. 

“Haven’t shotgunned since college.” You smiled, everything was so floaty and soft, fuzzy round the edges and so fucking warm. When did it get so warm? 

“You know with your floppy ears you could be-” your laughter bubbled up, cutting you off, “you could- sorry - oh my god - you could be Bucks Bunny!" 

Bucky did not seem to like that nickname as much as Thumper and told you so, pouting until you let him take another long drag. 

Time seemed to slow down between Bucky’s words, his hands, the way your glass of wine felt in your hand and the texture of his onesie. They were a good idea, so soft, good for petting, and Bucky was petting you too. His right hand was burning hot, even through the thick material, the pads of his fingers were calloused and rough, but the palm was soft. His left hand was so rigid, making a whirring noise. When you put your cheek to the artificial bicep it ticked pleasantly and you smiled, sighing and closing your eyes so you could concentrate on the joined sounds of Bucky’s heart and his prosthesis. In turn, Bucky held you gently, his metal fingers gentle on your back where he kept you snuggled in tight beside him. 

You were faintly aware of the ongoing chatter across the room, but it had faded away into background static. Your soul focus was on the way two of Bucky’s eyebrow hairs stuck out from the others, the little patch of grey forming in his stubble, the dark fleck of colour in his iris, the way his mouth looked saying your name. Oh shit, he’s saying your name, say something back! 

“Uh huh, yeah, uhm - maybe?” 

He tipped his head to the side, bunny ears flopping over too, and came closer again. His hands on your cheeks. “I’ll help you.” He leant forwards to rest his forehead against yours. 

“What’ya doing?” You tried to look at your forehead too but your eyes seemed to stop when they got to your eyelashes. Annoying. 

“Telling you what I’m thinking without saying it.” 

“Oh, is it working?” 

“You have to tell me that, silly!”

“I don’t think it’s working,” you whispered, loudly, and Natasha groaned from the sofa closest to the kitchen. 

“These two are out, done, nothing more for them,” she declared, waving her glass of red wine. 

A chorus of yes and agreed sounded from the remaining Avengers. Clint had already fallen asleep across one of the arm chairs, his beer dribbling onto his shirt from the neck of the bottle. Steve and Sam were deep in debate about the merits of Japanese whiskey over original scotch whisky and Tony was watching you both intently, his own glass of Glengoyne warming in his hand. The way the condensation formed under his fingers was fascinating, and you told Bucky as much, pulling him close to your cheek so you could get the same view. 

 “I concur, what did you do to my PA, Barnes?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bad influence.” 

“She’s not you PA, she’s our PA. So she’s ours to influence,” he returned, proudly. 

Tony just continued to stare, pointedly, sipping his drink.

“What you gonna influence me to do, Buck?” You kicked your legs against the kitchen counter, a picture of innocence, and Tony laughed into his drink. 

But Bucky looked at you very seriously, bent to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck, his leg between yours, muscular and firm despite the fluffy clothes. 

“I’m gonna influence you to steal all of Stark’s M&Ms.” He tried to keep quiet but ended up choking out the end of his sentence around his own uncontrollable giggles. 

“Oh my god, you know he has me take the red ones out, says they’re smug. I have so many red M&Ms in my flat.” 

“Hey, that’s supposed to be a secret!” 

“Wanna eat all the red ones I brought with me?” 

Bucky helped you down from the counter and then across to the pantry where you’d stashed the huge bags of snacks and sweets when you first arrived. Despite Steve’s shouts of leaving some for everyone, you closed the door and sat down, ready to tuck in, wrappers and chocolate littering the floor while you dug about for your favourites. Bucky sat on the floor, encouraging you to sit between his legs, keeping his hands moving over the downy material of your onesie. 

“Okay, Bambi, what’ve you got for me?” 

Before you could even attempt to feed him anything, Steve wrenched the door open, hands on his hips. “I think you need to sleep this one off, not eat more chocolate,” he insisted, waving at you both to get back up. 

“Nuh-uh, Steve, not leaving.” Bucky tightened his arms around your waist and nuzzled into the back of your neck. “You smell like cake,” he exclaimed, happily, ignoring Steve. 

“Sam! Can you help me shift Bucky?!” 

“What about me?” You pouted, holding Bucky’s hands around your waist. 

“You need to go to bed as well.” Natasha extended her hand to yours in an effort to pull you off the floor, but Bucky’s grip was too strong. 

Eventually, it took everyone to wrestle you away from Bucky and bundle you into your room. In the corridor, Bucky howled his anger, breaking out of his room to easily find you in yours. 

“Bambi! There you are! Those awful hunters took you!” he cooed, squishing your cheeks again and kissing your pouty lips. Deep down your brain registered that this was your first kiss with him, that the man who had been consuming your thoughts for months was actually kissing you, willingly, and had broken a door so he could get close enough to do so. 

“Buh-kee, it was just Nat and Tony,” you drawled, your lips moving gently against his, reluctant to pull away. 

“I know, but I didn’t like it, wanna stay here with you.” 

Natasha, who was still trying to wrestle you into bed, gave up. “If you two stay in here together, and stay out of trouble, I won’t say anything.” She pointed at you both, eyebrows slightly raised. 

“Promise I’ll be good, Natty.” You fluttered your eyelashes at her dramatically, hoping to seem more trustworthy, but she just rolled her eyes. “Fine, stay here.” 

And then you were alone. 

You hesitated for a moment, watching the slow movement of Bucky’s face, fascinated by the way the muscles tightened minutely when he smiled. 

“I’m going to kiss you again now,” he stated, so formal that you broke out into another fit of laughter which made you hiccup and grab for his chest to steady yourself. 

He ignored you, bending his head and catching your lips with his, messy and rushed. 

“You taste real nice, you know?” Bucky licked across your lips again, swallowing your giggles. 

“You taste nice too, ate all my damn brownies.” With a long lick up his chocolate smeared cheek, you kissed him back, tangling your hands in his hair, trying to push the too hot, stuffy, fluffy, onesie off his shoulders. 

Bucky shrugged, and sat back to push the material down to his hips. Your eyes followed the movements of his hands, the way each inch of muscle revealed itself and, suddenly, you were hungry again, lunging forwards to bury your face between his pecs. Starting at his sternum, you kissed further and further down, shoving him backwards so you could climb on top of him, nipping and kissing bruises in a slow trail towards the end of the zipper. With a twist of his wrist, his cock sprang free from its confines and you bent down to lick the pearlescent precum leaking from his tip. 

“Fuck, Bambi.” He dropped his head back, one hand gripping the pillows and the other cupping the back of your head while you licked the head like an ice cream. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” 

You sat back on your heels, letting your fingers dance up and down his cock. “Feels soft,” you observed, thoughtfully, “Hard and soft at the same time, isn’t that funny?” 

Bucky couldn’t reply, he just laid back, watching the woman he’d pined after for months finally touch him the way he’d dreamed. It seemed surreal to be here, in your bed, with your hands all over his body like you owned it. Well, he thought, you did own it, you just didn’t really understand that yet. 

“I wanna touch you, too,” he insisted, “Can I?” His hands hovered over your clothes, so close to the zipper his fingertips brushed it when you breathed. You nodded and he lowered the metal slowly. 

Everything seemed slow now, even his voice, mumbling against your skin when he kissed down your breasts and took your nipple into his mouth. When he bit down a little, you giggled, his fingers tickling your sides, until you were both laughing again, half in and half out of your onesies, brains full of cotton wool and lust and nerves. 

“Hey, hey.” You tugged on his hair until he looked up, resting his cheek on your belly. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Yes, I’m so good with secrets!” He crawled back over your body, lowering his face close to yours. “You can whisper it or you can do it telepathically.” 

“I’m not telepathic, Bucky.” 

“Sure, like this.” He dropped his forehead to yours. “I know all your secrets now.” 

“No, you don’t!” You shoved him, but he didn’t move. 

“I do!”

“Tell me then.” 

His eyes roamed over your face, from your eyes to your lips as if he couldn’t help it. “You like me.” 

“Everyone likes you, Buck, you just think they don’t.” 

“No you like me, you want to step out with me, be my best girl.” He looked overjoyed to have revealed your secret before you could. “Am I right?”

“Don’t be mean to me, Barnes.” 

“I’m not being mean, I read your mind.” 

“You know what? Fuck off.” You shoved a second time, but he still didn’t move. 

“Wanna read my mind? I’ll help.” His forehead met yours again, sweat beading along your hairline from the stress of being so clearly seen by the man you’d been fantasising about for months. Before you could protest that only he could read minds while high, he was kissing you again. Slow and steady, his tongue nudging your lips gently until you opened for him, throwing your arms around his neck and letting the feeling of petal soft kisses take over you. 

He moved away only enough to take off his now too warm onesie, as well as your own, leaving you both naked and tangled together on the bed. He couldn’t get enough of touching you, he felt buoyant, happy in a way that he hadn’t for months, years, and he never wanted it to end. His fingers tingled when they touched you, though it was becoming harder and harder to stay in control. 

“Bucky, I want you,” you managed to squeak out between kisses, fumbling awkwardly between you both, hoping he understood.

"I want you too.” He nodded, bumping your heads together. 

You wriggled beneath him, guiding him between your legs until he was buried inside of you. 

“Damn it, Bambi, you feel soft everywhere.” His wide eyed expression made you smile.

“You’re kinda soft too, Bucky.” This side of him was one you’d been dying to see, unguarded and playful. 

He nuzzled your cheek and began to move, tentative at first and then faster. In your dreamy state, it was hard to know where you started and ended or how long you’d been locked together. 

You moved as one, slow and steady, enjoying the feel of each other’s warm skin and chocolate sweet kisses, breaking every now and again to stare at each other in awe. 

Bucky seemed to sense your approaching release before you did, speeding up when you fluttered around him, the erratic movement of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge of the bed until you both tumbled out. The pillows and sheets followed soon after, dropping on you in an avalanche of goose down and brushed cotton. 

You both paused in shock, your giggles broken by your fall, but then he was pulling you back down on top of him and holding your hips steady. 

“Bucky, I wanna - I gotta -” Your hand drifted between you again to touch your sensitive clit, just a little more pressure and you could feel your orgasm building. The tightness of your pleasure started between your legs and radiated out to your toes, making them curl against the sheepskin rug beneath you. 

Bucky followed after you, unable to control himself from the onslaught of sensation your clenching heat provided. 

You woke the next day in a tangle of limbs and bedding, your back sore from sleeping on the floor all night and your brain fuzzy. Beside you, still with a smear of chocolate on his cheek, Bucky continued to sleep. 

[littlelamy]

halloween w/ the camerons: soft!rafe x reader

the kildare halloween party was in full swing, the air thick with the haze of smoke machines and the beat of bass-heavy music. rainbow lights flickered over a sea of costumes, each more elaborate than the last. In the middle of this chaotic celebration, rafe cameron stood out, not just for his princely costume but for the magnetic energy he exuded.

you had turned heads the moment you walked in, your sexy rapzunel princess costume drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. the mini skirt barely skimmed your thighs, the tight corset accentuating every curve.

rafe, dressed as flynn rider, was both amused and captivated by your outfit. his costume was spot-on— a brown leather vest over a white, slightly open shirt, paired with dark pants and worn-in boots that gave him that roguish charm. a satchel hung casually over his shoulder, completing the look. he looked every bit the daring adventurer, though his usual smirk held a hint of something more appreciative tonight.

you made your way through the crowd, each step accentuating the playful sway of your hips. rafe’s eyes followed you, and when you finally reached him, he took your hand with a roguish grin. “my sexy little princess,” he purred, his voice low and intoxicating. “shall we dance?”

with a nod, you let him guide you to the center of the dance floor. the crowd parted for you both, as if acknowledging that the real show was about to begin. rafe pulled you close, his hand resting on your lower back, the other entwined with yours.

the music was a sultry rhythm that seemed to synchronize perfectly with the beat of your hearts. rafe's movements were fluid and sensual, with every step calculated to draw you even closer. you felt the heat radiating from his body, and it only fueled the desire within you.

you moved against him with a confidence that matched his own. your hips swayed in time with the music, and rafe’s hand traveled up your lower back, his fingers teasing the edge of your crop top. his touch was possessive but gentle, sending shivers down your spine.

“is this how you dance with all your princesses?” you teased, your voice just above a whisper.

“only the ones who turn me on,” rafe replied, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. his breath was warm and intoxicating, making your pulse quicken.

you tilted your head back, meeting his gaze. the intensity in his eyes was matched by the mischievous smirk on his lips. “well, lucky for you, i’m here to make sure you don’t have to lose your mind alone.”

as you pressed closer, you felt his hands move lower, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. the friction between you was electric, each movement enhancing the seductive dance you were performing. rafe’s lips found the curve of your neck, his kisses soft and deliberate, sending waves of pleasure through you.

you responded in kind, your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his costume. the music seemed to fade into the background as your world narrowed to the space between you. every beat of the song matched the pounding of your heart, each rhythm a reminder of how perfectly you fit together.

rafe’s lips traveled to your shoulder, his tongue tracing a teasing line along your skin. you moaned softly, unable to suppress the sounds of your pleasure. his touch was both gentle and demanding, a perfect balance of control and abandon.

“you’re driving me crazy,” he murmured against your skin. “i can’t get enough of you.”

you smiled, the words only spurring you on. With a playful twist of your hips, you forced him to adjust his stance, pulling him even closer. his hands gripped your waist firmly, his fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. the music swelled, and the dance became more intense, more urgent.

the way rafe moved with you was sensual. his breaths came faster, his grip on you tightening as if he were afraid you might slip away. You could feel his desire building, his body pressed so close to yours that it felt like a second skin.

“do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

you met his gaze, the heat in your eyes matching his own. “i think I do.”

rafe pulled you against him, his lips crashing down on yours in a passionate kiss. the world around you ceased to exist, leaving only the sensation of his mouth moving over yours, the taste of him lingering on your tongue.

as you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathless. the intensity of the moment had left you both in a daze, but neither of you wanted to let go.

“you’re incredible,” rafe said, his voice full of awe.

you smiled, your fingers tracing a line down his chest. “and you’re my prince charming.”

he chuckled, the sound a mix of satisfaction and desire. “let’s keep this dance going, then.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[wallpapers4screen]

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon has one favorite piece of clothing you wear and of course when he's having a rough day, you just have to wear it for him.

Simon was all stress and tension, tight shoulders, furrowed brows, and pursed lips. He had just come back from deployment and had not fully decompressed yet, having a harder time of it this go around. Usually a day was all it took to get him to slough off the burdens of his job, yet this was day two and he was still not feeling himself. You wanted to do something to help him release all that pent up emotion, and you knew just how to do it.

Something that he just couldn't resist.

At the front of your closet you found it, his current favorite piece of clothing you owned: a flirty little floral number that he had bought last time he was in. The moment he saw that dress on you after having spotted it sitting on that rack in the store, the way it hugged your curves like it was made specifically for your body, he knew you could not go home without it.

The fabric was soft, cut incredibly short, and low cut enough in the front that it left barely anything to the imagination... exactly what you needed it to do.

You slipped it on, the only thing you slipped on, and headed back out to the living room where he sat in the oversized cushioned seat idly messing around with his hands as some show played in the background on the TV.

As you casually stepped into the room, his eyes fixated on you as you walked closer towards him, a little extra sway in your hips as you moved.

Squatting down to your knees before him with your hands splayed across his thighs for leverage, you kept his gaze locked within your own as you pushed open his legs a bit more so you could crawl between them and into his lap. You arched your back as you moved up until you were able to wrap your arms around his shoulders, your breasts pressing against his chest.

"Hi," you smiled playfully. With gentle fingertips you combed your fingernails through his scalp at the back of his head while you rocked your lower half lazily back and forth between his legs to keep your knees from getting stiff.

Those brown eyes began to sparkle back to life.just as they always did whenever you were around. "Hi back," he smirked; it was clear that you were up to something, though he didn't know what yet. "And just what do ya think you're doin', luv?"

You shook your head back and forth. "Nothing," you said, feigning innocence by diverting your eyes coyly before looking back. "Just thought I'd look nice for you is all."

You had peaked his interest and he raised a strong brow as his hands found your hips. "Is that why you have this thing on?" he asked, pulling at the fabric of your dress. "Cause you've got my attention; you know how much I fuckin' love that little thing."

"Exactly why I put it on," you smiled. "Maybe I'm trying to take all your attention, make you forget all your cares."

That one line made his cold heart skip a beat; you were always doing little things like that to please him and fucking hell did he enjoy it. Simon's hand captured your chin in its grasp suddenly and he firmly pulled your face into his so that he could press a kiss to your soft, moist, inviting lips. It was instaneous the way he melted into you, his shoulders relaxing the moment your lips met, as if everything else in the room had desolved except for you and him.

"God, you are a pretty fuckin' thing, aren't you, sweetheart?" he breathed against your mouth. "Always remindin' me how fuckin' lucky I am."

He released your chin and moved down to your back where his fingertips drug across the length of your spine down all the way to your ass and back again is slow rotations.

"Mmmm..." you hummed into his sculpted shoulder as you rested your head there while he touched you.

Shit like that made the ice he built around his heart to keep him sane during missions melt. "You like that, yeah?" he asked with a smirk as his rough hands traveled down lower until he got to the curve of your ass where he cupped it in both of his hands.

"Aren't wearing any panties?" he said with surprise as he cradled your bare bottom covered just slightly by the very edge of the dress hem before he slid his hand under the fabric to massage the bare skin. "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart."

You chuckled as his touch sent shivers up your back. "Thought maybe you'd want to play with me, if you aren't busy that is," you said against the crook of his neck before your lips connected repeatedly with the flesh there as you held the side of his head against your palm. "Why don't you let me help you unwind?"

Jesus Christ how in the hell was he supposed to say no to that? His touch became more greedy and firm in response to your offer. "You keep sayin shit like that luv," he growled, "and I might just have to fuck you until my mind is empty and your legs are numb. Come on, come 'ere."

Offering his open hand, Simon pulled you up so that he could move you into his lap so you could sit on top of those full thick thighs. Your perky breasts sitting up high in the front of the dress hit his vision, immediately making his head woozy. "This, this right here is already making me forget every fuckin' thing."

It had been a hot minute since you had been showered in his unique brand of flattery and you couldn't help the warm, red flush that flood your cheeks at his words. You turned your head, embarrassed that even after all this time you'd been together he could still make you blush.

"Don't you look away now sweetheart; you just keep looking at me with those pretty eyes. Don't gotta be shy 'round me," he purred as he guided your head back, "not when I'm about to have that pretty little dress layin' on the ground. Or maybe... shit, I'll just fuck you in it."

Again you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. "Whatever you want," you said. "Use me."

Damn, you did always know the right words to say to make him come alive. "You are just too fuckin' good to me, luv," he sighed.

He was a lucky, lucky man indeed.

[librababe99]

Kinktober Day Six: Erik Lensherr

Erik Lensherr x Female Reader x Charles Xavier | Threesome |

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, Threesome, Oral (M receiving), anal, p in v, cherik if you squint...

Summary: A lavish gala is being held at the x-mansion and you happen to find yourself ensnared by Erik’s possessive touch and Charle’s irresistible charm. 

wc: 2.6K

A/N: I have a feeling this will make up for day five...I think I got my groove back...enjoy!

| Day Five | | Kinktober Masterlist | | Day Seven |

The cool evening breeze kissed your bare skin as you stepped out of the car, Erik's strong hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance of Charles Xavier's grand estate. The mansion loomed ahead, glowing under the light of countless chandeliers, casting a warm, inviting glow into the night. This wasn't the first gala you'd attended, but tonight felt different—more charged, more intimate.

Erik's presence was grounding, yet electric. His usual intense, brooding demeanor seemed even sharper tonight, though there was a quiet anticipation beneath the surface. His gray-blue eyes swept over the guests filtering in, his posture relaxed but his grip on your waist firm, possessive.

"You look stunning tonight," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His voice was low, a smooth rumble that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you leaned in just slightly. "You say that every time we go out, Erik."

His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "And yet, it’s true every time."

Inside, the gala was in full swing, the air thick with the sound of glasses clinking and the hum of polite conversation. The soft strains of classical music played in the background, though it felt distant compared to the intensity of Erik’s presence beside you. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on Charles almost immediately—his tall, imposing figure standing near the center of the grand hall, engaging in lively conversation with a group of elites. He looked regal, in a perfectly tailored suit, his sharp jawline and warm brown eyes catching the light.

He saw you first, and his face lit up, a charming smile spreading across his lips. As you and Erik approached, Charles moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, his steps confident, his presence commanding.

"Erik," Charles greeted with that familiar, easy charm, his gaze sliding to you, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. "And you must be the stunning companion Erik has been keeping from me."

The compliment sent a ripple of warmth through you, but it was the way Charles looked at you that made your pulse quicken. There was something beneath his usual friendly expression, a hint of something darker, something curious.

Charles extended his hand, and when you placed yours in his, his grip was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing the back of your hand in a way that felt far more intimate than it should have. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Erik’s hand never left your back, the touch of his fingers grazing your skin through the fabric of your dress. He smirked at Charles’ words, though there was a possessive edge to his expression, something territorial. "Charles and I go way back," Erik said, his voice deceptively casual. "It was only a matter of time before you two met."

Charles' eyes flicked to Erik, a silent conversation passing between them. It was something unspoken yet undeniable—a push and pull, a magnetic tension that seemed to ripple between them, one you felt yourself getting caught in.

Drinks were placed in your hands, the three of you retreating to a more secluded corner of the room as the conversation flowed. Charles was every bit the gracious host, his smooth voice drawing you in with every word, his attention on you so sharp it made you feel exposed and intrigued all at once. Erik stood beside you, his hand never far from your body, his gaze darker, more intense as the night wore on.

The wine flowed freely, loosening your thoughts, and soon the conversation took a deeper turn. What started as polite banter evolved into discussions of power and potential, of the complexities of desire. Erik’s fingers traced absent patterns on your skin, the heat of his touch grounding you while Charles’ words seemed to slip beneath your defenses, each syllable a tantalizing promise.

"You’ve always held back, haven’t you?" Charles’ voice was lower now, quieter, as though the question was meant for you alone. His eyes locked with yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "What would it feel like to let go?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of both their gazes on you, Charles’ question hanging heavy in the air. Erik’s hand slid down to your hip, his fingers squeezing just enough to remind you of his presence, of the fact that he was right there, watching.

"Charles has a way of uncovering things," Erik murmured against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. "Desires you didn’t even know were there."

Your breath hitched at the implication, your body suddenly hyper aware of how close they both were. You were standing between them now, Charles leaning in just slightly, his hand resting on the back of the velvet sofa, his chest brushing your arm. Erik stood behind you, his mouth near your neck, his scent—dark, musky—wrapping around you, making your head spin.

"And is that what you want?" you asked, your voice coming out softer, breathier than you intended.

Erik’s hand slid around your waist, pulling you back against him, his lips brushing your earlobe. "I want to see what happens when you stop holding back."

The fire in Charles’ eyes flickered darker as he stepped even closer, his hand now resting on your lower back, just beside Erik’s. "We both do," Charles whispered, his voice a sultry invitation that sent heat pooling low in your belly. "Let us show you."

The moment felt suspended in time, thick with tension, desire, and unspoken promises. You could feel the heat radiating from both of them, their bodies so close to yours that it felt like you were drowning in the sensation. Erik’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles on your hip, his breath hot against your neck. Charles’ presence was equally intoxicating—his hand sliding around to your waist, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above the line of your dress, the lightest touch that still made your knees weak.

You exhaled a shaky breath, your body already responding to the proximity of their touch, to the sensual rhythm building between the three of you. Your lips parted, anticipation swirling in your chest as you glanced between them, feeling the pull of both men, their energy feeding off each other and heightening your every sense.

Erik pressed his lips against the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your breath catch. "You’re with us now," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a ripple of desire straight through you. "And we’re not letting go."

Charles, still in front of you, tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smile as his hand slid further up your waist, brushing the underside of your breast. His voice dropped, smooth and commanding. "Let us take care of you."

The heat between you all was unbearable now, a fire burning just beneath the surface of your skin. Erik’s hands roamed lower, pulling you against him as his mouth moved along your neck, lips trailing fire down to your shoulder. At the same time, Charles' hand slid up to cup your jaw, his fingers grazing your lips before he leaned in, his breath fanning over your mouth.

Your heart raced as Charles whispered, his lips a breath away from yours. "Let go. Feel everything."

And then his mouth was on yours—soft at first, then more insistent, his kiss igniting something deep within you. Erik’s lips were at your throat, his hands guiding you, molding you to him as Charles deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring yours with a languid, sensual rhythm.

The two of them moved in sync, surrounding you, pulling you into their orbit, the world outside disappearing as you surrendered to the heat of their touch, the intensity of their desire.

The heat between your bodies felt unbearable now, an intensity that blurred the edges of everything except the sensations Erik and Charles were creating within you. Charles’ mouth was insistent on yours, his kiss deepening as his hand slid down the curve of your waist, fingers brushing the hem of your dress, teasing. Erik’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the base of your throat, sending shivers coursing through your body.

You were caught between them—Charles’ possessive kiss, Erik’s hungry touch. The air around you thickened, charged with anticipation, every brush of their hands leaving fire in its wake.

Erik’s hands found the zipper of your dress, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’ll look even better out of this.”

With deliberate slowness, he pulled the zipper down, the cool air kissing your skin as the fabric slipped from your shoulders. His hands were rough, commanding as they slid along your bare back, pulling the dress down until it pooled at your feet. You gasped into Charles’ mouth, feeling exposed, vulnerable, but also electrified by the way they both looked at you—as if you were something they had been waiting for all night.

Charles’ lips curved into a wicked smile as he pulled back, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you standing between them, your body half-exposed, chest heaving with every breath. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice like a velvet caress. “More than I imagined.”

Erik stepped closer behind you, his chest pressed firmly against your back, his hands sliding around to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your already hardening nipples. The sensation made you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. His mouth returned to your neck, kissing and biting along your skin as his hands explored your body, teasing, tormenting.

“Look at how she responds,” Erik growled, his voice low, filled with a dangerous edge of control. “Like she was made for us.”

Charles’ eyes darkened even further, his own desire simmering beneath the surface as he watched the way your body moved under Erik’s touch. He leaned in again, his lips brushing yours, teasing, before kissing you again, more demanding this time. His hands slid down your sides, tracing the curves of your body, his fingertips dancing over the tops of your thighs.

You were trapped in the fire between them—Erik’s roughness, Charles’ calculated seduction, the contrast making your head spin. Your mind raced, but your body surrendered, giving in to every touch, every kiss, every heated breath. The pleasure was building, coiling tight in your core, threatening to spill over as their hands roamed freely over your skin.

Erik’s grip tightened around your breasts, squeezing gently before one hand slid down between your legs, teasing the already growing heat there. His fingers brushed against you, barely touching, just enough to make you gasp in anticipation. “So wet,” he growled, his lips against your ear, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Charles’ lips left yours, his mouth moving down to your collarbone, trailing kisses lower, across your chest, his tongue flicking over one of your nipples before he took it into his mouth. The sharpness of the sensation sent a surge of pleasure through you, your hips instinctively pressing back into Erik’s growing hardness, craving more of the delicious friction.

Your mind was hazy, lost in the sensations flooding through you. Charles’ mouth moved from one breast to the other, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as Erik’s fingers continued their slow, torturous exploration between your legs, never quite giving you what you desperately craved.

“Tell us what you want,” Charles murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating through you, deep and commanding.

“Please,” you breathed, not even entirely sure what you were begging for, but needing more, needing them to push you past the edge they were keeping you on.

Erik chuckled softly, the sound low and dark as his fingers finally pressed harder, slipping between your folds, finding the sensitive spot that made you gasp sharply. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his breath hot against your ear, his voice filled with dangerous satisfaction.

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps, your body trembling with need.

“Not enough,” Charles murmured against your chest, his teeth grazing your nipple before he bit down gently, sending another jolt of pleasure through you. “We need to hear you.”

“Tell us,” Erik growled, his fingers teasing you, keeping you on the edge of release but never letting you tip over.

 “I want you both.” you gasped, your voice breaking with desperation.

The words seemed to ignite something in both of them. Charles pulled back, his hands sliding down to the waistband of his trousers, his gaze locked on yours, full of lust and something even deeper. Erik’s fingers pressed harder, slipping inside you now, filling you, stretching you in a way that made your body hum with pleasure.

Charles undid his pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he freed himself, his cock making your mouth water in anticipation. He moved toward you again, pulling you down onto the plush sofa, his body hovering over yours as Erik stepped back for a moment, his hands moving to undo his own pants.

Charles leaned down, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock brushing against your slick folds, teasing you, making you gasp against his mouth. “Are you ready?” he whispered, his lips brushing yours, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, your body trembling with need.

With one smooth thrust, Charles slid inside you, filling you completely, his cock stretching you in a way that felt perfect, almost too much but exactly what you needed. You moaned loudly, your hands gripping his shoulders as he began to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

Behind you, Erik knelt on the sofa, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back slightly to meet each of Charles’ thrusts. His cock pressed against your ass, teasing, and you felt a shiver of anticipation at the thought of both of them filling you, overwhelming you.

“Let me have her,” Erik growled, his hands squeezing your hips hard enough to leave marks. Charles smirked down at you, his eyes dark with desire as he pulled out, allowing Erik to position you on all fours, his body pressing against yours from behind.

Erik didn’t waste any time. With one rough thrust, he filled you completely, his cock thicker, harder than Charles’, the sensation making you cry out in pleasure as he took you, his hips slamming into yours with a force that left you breathless.

Charles knelt in front of you, his cock still hard, glistening with your wetness. He cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your lips before he pressed the tip of his cock against them, a silent invitation. You opened your mouth eagerly, taking him in as Erik continued to fuck you from behind, each thrust pushing you further toward the edge.

The sensation of both of them overwhelmed you, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You moaned around Charles’ cock, your body trembling as Erik’s rough pace quickened, his growls filling the room as he took you harder, faster, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force.

Your mind blurred, lost in the heat of the moment, in the way they claimed you, body and soul. You were theirs now, caught between them, and there was no escape. And you didn’t want one.

“Come for us,” Charles commanded, his voice smooth and dark as he thrust into your mouth. “Now.”

The order, the intensity of it all, sent you spiraling. You cried out, the orgasm hitting you like a wave, crashing through you, leaving you trembling and gasping as Erik continued to thrust into you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were shaking, spent, and completely theirs.

Taglist: @comicbookslut @lilah1020 @writingaftermidnight @nyxineiros @chaoticweirdogeek @5soscrack @dindjarins04 @superstar-lover863-blog @Therealnekomari @iloved1lfs0

[cuppajj]

[BAAU] A Letter to Espresso

Madeleine Cookie sat at his desk, a soft smile with a touch of anticipation curving his lips as he carefully straightened out the letter in his hands. The parchment was smooth beneath his fingertips, the ink a deep, rich brown, almost like the coffee he could nearly smell. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his mind drift. He could almost see Espresso Cookie sitting in his workshop, the room bathed in the gentle, golden light that filtered through the half-closed blinds. There would be a comforting hum of machinery working in the background, the quiet whirring of gears and the occasional hiss of steam created a soothing white noise. It was a soundscape that Madeleine had come to associate with peace and warmth and familiarity. Of time spent waiting and watching his companion work, of warm banter and concentrated ramblings where experimentation seemed to be all that the other cookie would see. He could picture it all so vividly—the way Espresso would pause to take a sip from his cup, how the steam would curl gently upwards as he savoured the rich brew, his expression thoughtful and his eyes focused on the task at hand. It was as if he was sitting right across from Madeleine Cookie. Reachable, where Madeleine could outstretch his arm to brush some hair away from the scientist’s eyes and glasses. Espresso would, in turn, shoo him away and out of his lab. Calling him a distraction. It felt as if there was no ocean separating them.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Even now, within the city he grew up in, in a manor filled with family, his aunts nearby and only a few rooms away, he still desired to return home. As Madeleine began to read, he could almost hear Espresso’s voice, steady and calm, recounting the details of his days in the Vanilla Kingdom. It was as though he were sitting right there, whispering the stories meant only for Madeleine.

“Things have been well here in the Vanilla Kingdom,” the voice hummed, “Raisin Cookie is doing well, her army of seemingly never-ending crows grows each day.”

Madeleine's smile faltered for a moment as the image of Raisin Cookie flashed in his mind. He had met her once, the mysterious figure with a cloak of tattered fabric draped over her slim frame. Her magenta-eyed crows had followed her closely, birds that seemed as sharp and weary as their master. Pure Vanilla Cookie’s friend.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie claims he's alright, but I know him too well," Espresso’s voice continued. "His smile has been strained lately, especially with the recent news of the other Ancient Cookies.”

Madeleine could picture Espresso now, his dark brows drawn together in quiet frustration. Pure Vanilla’s health had been a lingering concern for some time, a recurring topic in Espresso’s letters. With everything that the hero had gone through, the destruction of his kingdom, the amnesia, and the reveal of Dark Enchantress, Pure Vanilla Cookie would be the worry of any cookie who had an idea of the events that had occurred. Even Madeleine, with his distorted perceptions of heroic stories and beliefs, had slowly come to realise that there was clearly something wrong.

“We can all see that it’s getting to him.”

A kingdom of sugar snow, now frozen with its infamous sea of terror tamed. A once warm and courageous cookie in a thriving kingdom now a tyrant, and a sovereign that turned all that breathed in her direction into the glimmering gold that would decorate her palace. Once the dearest friends of Pure Vanilla Cookie, now twisted monsters that brought along terror and fear with their reign.

Madeleine paused, fingers brushing the edge of the paper. If only he were there, perhaps he could help in some way...But for now, he would have to rely on words.

“We’re trying to make a plan on how to approach the situation. Not much progress has been made.”

What were they supposed to do against cookies that held such immense power in their hands?

“Also, Strawberry Crepe Cookie says hello. Sincerely, Espresso Cookie.”

Madeleine leaned back in his chair, the parchment still in his hand. He turned the letter over, and then back again, as if hoping for more hidden words to appear. A sigh escaped him.

“Espresso didn’t say anything about himself this time either,” he muttered to the empty room. Surely it wouldn’t have been so difficult to write just a single line about how he was doing?

With a slow exhale, he turned toward his desk, where a selection of fine parchment and ink waited. He ran his fingers over the paper, choosing the smoothest one, and then reached for his quill. The ink, a deep blue like the skies of the Crème Republic, seemed fitting for what he wanted to say.

He dipped the quill into the ink and began to write.

"Dear Espresso," he started, the words flowing as naturally as breathing. "I received your letter today, and as always, it was a delight to read.”

He paused, staring at the paper as his thoughts settled.

"You tell me of the Vanilla Kingdom, of Pure Vanilla’s struggles, but you do not speak of yourself. I worry. Not just for the kingdom, but for you too." He hesitated, thinking of what to write next. The tip of the quill scratched the surface of the paper as he pondered.

Espresso was such a strong cookie. Stubborn and determined, with ideals and goals that never once wavered. How could he not admire such a person?

"I hope that you’re taking care of yourself, too. I will wait for your reply. But this time, tell me how you are. Because more than anything else, I want to know that you are well.

Sincerely, Madeleine.”

Madeleine signed the letter and, with a small smile, added, "PS: Tell Crepe I said hello back!"

For a moment, he held the letter in his hands, gazing down at the seal, his thoughts far away, back in the Vanilla Kingdom where Espresso Cookie worked tirelessly without anyone to tell him to stop and rest.

With another sigh, Madeleine set the letter aside. ————

Thanks to @darkfluffydragon for writing!! Go check them and their amazing art out! <3

[brunchable]

𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 [𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕]

Words: 1.4K Characters: Bucky Barnes × f!reader, Steve Rogers × f!reader Summary: While on a picnic on a breezy summer's day, you find yourself nestled between Steve and Bucky, who showers you with affection, playful teasing while taking turns on kissing you. A/N: Imagine that. . . Only the picnic part was in my dream LMAO I just wanted to make things a bit spicy.

The world around you blurred, fading into the soft haze of a summer’s dream. You felt weightless, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees was lifting you into a realm where time had slowed, where everything was gentle and warm. The soft hum of the breeze, birds singing a melody, and the distant, idle chatter of passersby were just background noise, distant and irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the two men beside you.

Steve lay stretched out on the picnic blanket to your left, his arm propped behind his head as he gazed up at the sky with a relaxed expression. The soft fabric of his white tank clung to his chest, the muscles beneath shifting slightly with every breath. His loose, light trousers gathered at his waist, his long legs stretched out casually in front of him. He glanced sideways at you, a small smile tugging at his lips, his hand brushing against yours, a silent promise of his undivided attention, no matter how serene the moment around you seemed.

Bucky lay on your right side, his body relaxed against the blanket. The brown short-sleeved shirt hung open over a simple white tank, showing just enough to hint at the strength beneath. His beige trousers were neatly pressed, the fabric soft as it draped over his legs. His hair was tousled slightly by the breeze, and he glanced over at you with that familiar, easygoing smirk, as if he had all the time in the world just for you.

“You make that dress look good,” Bucky's baritone voice broke the silence. He leaned in close, his breath brushing your ear, sending a delicious shiver down your spine, “Almost as good as it would look on the floor.”

“You think so?” you teased, but your voice was softer than usual, betraying the anticipation that curled in your belly.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a cocky grin. “I know so.”

“He’s not wrong,” Steve murmured, his voice smooth as honey.

You tried to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you felt your body melt against the blanket, the warmth of the afternoon and their combined presence making you feel both weightless and tethered to the earth all at once. You felt Steve’s fingers ghost over your hand, intertwining your fingers, grounding you in the surreal moment. His touch was gentle, yet it felt like he wanted to draw you in completely.

Bucky's hand came up to cup your face, the coolness of his metal arm contrasting with the warmth of the day. His thumb traced your lower lip, and sending butterflies fluttering allover your stomach. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours. He lifted a strawberry between you, but instead of offering it directly, he brushed the tip of the fruit against your lips, teasing you.

Your gaze flicked between Bucky and Steve, your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. “You two are really laying it on thick today,” you managed, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Steve leaned closer on your other side, his fingers brushing your jawline with that same gentle confidence that made your pulse race. 

“Can you blame us?” he whispered, his voice rich and filled with something you could only describe as pure adoration. “Look at you.”

Your lips barely had time to part before Bucky’s thumb pressed down lightly, guiding you to open your mouth. He slipped the strawberry past your lips, watching intently as you took it. You felt his gaze on you like a tangible thing, the intensity in his eyes leaving you breathless. You bit down teasingly, your lips sealed around the fruit and chewed slowly, the sweetness of the fruit mixing with the sudden tension that seemed to have fallen over the three of you.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes were still dark with focus. “Good girl,” he murmured, so softly it was almost lost to the wind.

Steve chuckled beside you, but it wasn’t mocking. His free hand brushed over your shoulder, thumb tracing delicate circles across your skin. “Bucky likes to tease,” he said, his voice a soft, velvety hum, “but I like the way you blush.”

You couldn’t help it—heat rushed to your cheeks, though whether it was from their words or the way they were looking at you, you couldn’t tell. Before you could respond, Steve leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, stealing the last lingering trace of strawberry juice from your skin. The kiss started soft, almost tentative, but quickly became something more, he pressed harder, deeper. His lips were hungry, searching, demanding—as if long deprived and you felt yourself surrendering to it, to him. Your hands instinctively slid under his tank top, fingers trailing fire up his stomach, your touch making him groan into the kiss. He teased your lips with his tongue, silently urging you to open to him fully. When you did, he deepened the kiss, his control slipping as his hands moved to cup your face, holding you close as if he couldn’t get enough. 

Bucky on the other hand kisses your shoulder, and runs his lips on your skin towards your ear, but doesn't quite make it that far. You tilt your head and after his deep breath out he bites you gently. It doesn't hurt, it only makes you want more.

Bucky’s eyes glinted in the sunlight, watching the kiss with a predatory focus. “She’s going to think we’re starving,” Bucky teased, though his voice was rough with his own desire.

Steve finally pulled back, both of you breathing heavily, his eyes dark as he smiled down at you. “Maybe we are,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

Not wasting a second, Bucky moved in, his metal fingers threading into your hair as he claimed your mouth with his own. His kiss was entirely different from Steve’s—no hesitation, no softness. It was possessive, demanding, like he needed to prove something with every movement. 

“You taste so damn good,” Bucky growled against your lips, before his mouth descended on yours again.

Your back arched involuntarily as you fought the feelings building rapidly inside. Gasping for air you surrendered as his mouth dominated yours. Your lips fought an erotic battle that you knew you would never win. The spiced scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses causing you to squirm and shiver under his touch.

Steve grabbed your hair from behind to expose your neck as he attaches his lips to your exposed skin just below your ear. You gasp as soon as his lips touch your neck and you can feel his smile against your skin.

When he finally pulled back, both of you breathless, Bucky’s smirk was gone. His eyes were darker now, “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispered, voice rough with barely-contained desire.

Steve chuckled again, equally sounding dangerous. “She’s good at that,” he said, reaching for another strawberry. This time, he brought it to your lips himself, watching with quiet intensity as you bit into it. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You taste better, though.”

Y/N shuddered at the way his words hung in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. The way they looked at you, the way they touched you—it was as if you were the only thing in their world, the center of everything.

“Tell me, doll,” he murmured, his lips brushing just below your ear. “Do you like it when we spoil you like this?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. It was overwhelming, the way they surrounded you, how their touches felt like promises of more. But eventually, you managed to nod, your voice a whisper in the space between you. “Yes…”

Bucky’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Good,” he said softly, his fingers brushing over your cheek. “Because we’re not done.”

Steve’s lips ghosted over yours in a kiss so soft it felt like a dream. “We’re just getting started.”

The afternoon felt infinite, the sun casting long golden beams over their tangled bodies. Each kiss they gave you was different, but no less intense. Steve’s lips were reverent, as if he was worshiping you with every touch, savoring each moment. Bucky’s kisses were fiery, hungry, like he was staking his claim with every breath.

“You’re everything, Y/N,” Steve murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the hollow of your throat. “We’d do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”

Bucky’s hand cupped your chin, turning your gaze to meet his. “Anything,” he echoed, his voice firm. “You’re ours.”

[vantetaes]

NEIGHBORLY FUN🫧🥂

LAWYER! NANAMI X CAM GIRL BLACK FEM READER!

SUMMARY!!! yn is a camgirl, working towards her dream of luxury, when a view realizes how close she actually is, how far will he go?

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!!, barely a relationship established before sex, oral (f & m receiving), missionary (?), ignore errors

the dim glow of your ring light illuminates your room in soft, diffused radiance. set up just right to cast a flattering light across your rich, smooth brown skin, accentuating the warm undertones that gleam in the dim ambiance. your hair is messily bunched into a light pink claw clip, holding the mess of waves out of your face and shimmering lipgloss.

THE WEEKND plays in the background from your orb, sound filling the semi-new apartment space. bouncing off the laminate flooring and smooth ceilings.

“pick up your phone, the party’s finished and i want you to know, im all alone”

you’re tipsy tonight, maybe more than tipsy. the almost-empty bottle of rosé sits precariously on your vanity, lipgloss around the rim catching a bit of the light as you finish adjusting your outfit. a sheer black robe drapes over your shoulders, teasingly loose. beneath it, you wear a lingerie set that delicate. lace tracing over your curves, hugging your skin in ways you didn’t know material could. brown star shaped pasties with Y-N encrusted on each of the cups with a small star shape beside them.

youd been pre-gaming, dancing to your favorite playlist as you got ready, letting the alcohol loosen your inhibitions. it always helps with the nerves, even though by now, you’re a pro at this.

“i always want you when im, coming down”

but in your wine-addled haze, your finger must’ve slipped, because the stream starts before you’re even aware.

still, your hips move like water to the beat of your music. letting the white wine run its course through your system. your faux doe furry slippers shuffle across your bedroom floor, flipping on a sunset lamp tucked in the corner. casting a warm pink and purple across your body.

your playlist shuffles, AGORA HILLS begins softly.

“ooo, this my shit!” you giggle to yourself, straightening up bed to get ready for your stream.

youd been a camgirl for around three years now. the only management you’ve ever had, was yourself. if something had to be done, you knew to only rely on yourself.

hence why you’re standing in a penthouse in a part of the city only neurosurgeons and lawyers can afford. it was something to prove for yourself.

so how did you manage to fuck up so bad?

the laptop sits open on your vanity, camera capturing you as you sway to the rhythm of the music. your hips roll in a fluid motion, the silky fabric of your robe clinging to your skin before shifting away with each movement, the robe slips from one shoulder as you spin lazily. you don’t notice the faint red light. not yet. instead, you’re caught up in the feeling, in the confidence that blooms under the dim light and the heady rush of alcohol.

“kissing i hope they caught us, whether they like or not”

you reach for the mail you’d left on the vanity, shuffling through it absentmindedly. the camera catches the briefest glimpse of an envelope. just a flash, but enough to reveal the name of your apartment complex in bold, black letters. it’s only on the screen for a moment, but for someone watching closely, it’s more than enough.

“i wanna brag about it, i wanna tie the knot”

pushing all the white envelopes to the side, your eyes can’t help but to draw to the pink screen.

HOTGIRLHOTFUN. com

➤YOU ARE NOW LIVE…

your brows knit together as you squint, trying to focus through the haze.

that’s when you see it.

the little red flickering light. the live chat scrolling at the side of the screen. the usernames. familiar, faceless, hungry.

you freeze, breath catching in your throat.

“oh my god.”

the realization hits like a slap to the face, sobering you in an instant. your heart pounds as you lurch toward the laptop, the chair scraping against the floor in your rush.

“shit—shit! no, no, no.”

your hands fumble over the keys, trying to stop the stream, but the alcohol makes your fingers clumsy, your movements frantic. the robe slips further, hanging precariously off your arms, and you’re too panicked to notice that your bra strap was following suit.

the chat is exploding now, messages flying by faster than you can process.

userano321: lmaooo wait, is she drunk?

kimgofmacity: this is the realest ive ever seen her

barbbigb: QUEEN, WE LOVE YOU!

anonymous000: what was that mail? did anyone catch that??

gnroyalty: i could’ve sworn i just saw her apartment name bro

your stomach churns as you catch the tail end of that last comment. your mind races, trying to piece together what you might’ve done. what they might’ve seen. the envelope. the damn envelope.

“i wanna show you off”

“god, im so fucking stupid!” you mutter under your breath, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. the music cuts off abruptly, leaving the room oppressively silent except for your ragged breathing.

and someone was watching closely.

two doors down, in an apartment that mirrors yours, nanami kento sits at his desk, his laptop open before him. he’s still in his work clothes, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tie loosened just enough to give him a semblance of relief after a long day. the glass of whiskey in his hand is barely touched, attention elsewhere.

he hadn’t meant to stay up this late, but the notification from the site had popped up, and he couldn’t resist.

not when it was you.

for the past month, you’ve been his escape. after endless hours at the office, after the pressure of being the reliable one, the composed one, the perfect one, he’s found solace in the way you move, the way you smile at the camera as if you’re looking directly at him. he knows it’s an illusion, that you’re performing for countless others, but it doesn’t matter. im those moments, it feels personal.

and now, watching you move in your apartment, the lightweight robe your wore threatening to give your whole audience a show. your real, unpolished self. it feels too personal. his breath hitches as he notices the envelope flash on screen, shooting up from his lazed position in the chair. his sharp eyes catching the familiar name of the building.

his heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of disbelief and something darker, something possessive. you’re here. not just in the abstract sense of existing in the same world, but here, in the same building.

he watches as you dance, as you laugh softly to yourself, oblivious to the fact that you’re live. There’s an edge of guilt twisting in his gut, but it’s drowned out by the thrill of knowing. of seeing you like this. unguarded, unfiltered, real.

and then you notice.

you glance toward the laptop, a fleeting look at first, before your eyes widen. the realization hits like a freight train, and you scramble toward the screen, a string of curses falling from your lips as you reach to end the stream. but it’s too late.

for nanami, it’s already too late. the image of you, raw and vulnerable, is burned into his mind. and now, with the knowledge of just how close you are, he knows he’ll never be able to watch you the same way again.

-

the outdoor cafe is rather warm. the smell of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries filling the air as you stir your latte absentmindedly. the ceramic cup clinks softly against the saucer each time you set it down, your hands trembling slightly. across from you, shoko sits with one leg crossed over the other, her sharp eyes watching you intently as you explain.

“and then i saw the chat.” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

“and i realized i was streaming the whole time. the whole time, shoko. this shits so dumb, how could i be so dumb?”

“so… you gave them a free show?” she exhales a puff of smoke from the cigarette she’s holding, tilting her head slightly to the side.

“basically.” you wince, lowering your head as you groan.

she doesn’t laugh, which surprises you. instead, she ashes her cigarette into the tray and leans forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand.

“so, what are you gonna do about it?”

you blink, caught off guard by her calm tone.

“i- i don’t know. i deleted the stream as fast as i could, but people were definitely recording. and—” you glance around nervously, lowering your voice even more.

“i accidentally flashed my building’s name on the mail.”

shoko leans back, dragging on her cigarette again, pinching the bridge of her nose before blowing the smoke out.

“well. that’s not great, yn.” she says bluntly, blowing more smoke upward.

“but it’s not the end of the world. just tighten up your security, maybe invest in some blinds if you’re gonna keep doing this. and for god’s sake, no more drinking before you stream.” her tone was sharp and clean. almost too much for your situation.

you nod slowly, taking in her words. she’s right, of course. she usually is, though her delivery could use some work.

“and hey.” she adds, tapping ash from her cigarette.

“don’t beat yourself up too much. shit happens. just handle it like the big girl i know you are and move on.”

“thanks, shoko. i love you, i needed that.” you give her a small, grateful smile.

“anytime. now go home and get your head on straight, i love ya too.”she waves you off with a flick of her wrist.

you finish your latte and gather your things, stepping out into the crisp air as you head back to your apartment. the walk is short, but your mind is heavy with everything that’s happened. as you step into the building and make your way down the hall, your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

you glance up and see him. tall, broad-shouldered, with a serious expression that makes your breath hitch for reasons you don’t fully understand. his blond hair is neatly combed, and his sharp suit clings to him in a way that makes you wonder where he’s coming from.

as he passes, the scent hits you first. warm, woodsy, with a hint of spice. it’s intoxicating, wrapping around you like a second skin. you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until he glances at you, his brow lifting slightly in acknowledgment.

he was fine.

“good evening.” he says, his voice deep and steady, the kind that lingers even after the words are gone.

“um, evening.” you blink, shaking yourself out of your daze. you manage, your voice softer than you intended.

as he fully walks past, you catch another whiff of his cologne, and something compels you to turn.

“wait- uh, excuse me?”

he stops, looking over his shoulder. “yes?”

“i don’t think we’ve met. i’m yn. i just moved in a month ago.” you take a step closer, suddenly feeling a little bold.

he turns fully now, his expression polite but unreadable. “nanami kento. i live two doors down.”

“nice to meet you, nanami.” you smile, offering your hand.

“likewise.” his handshake is firm but not overpowering, his palm warm against yours while the rings he wore were cold.

as he pulls his hand back, you catch a faint trace of his cologne again, and it lingers even after he’s walked away. for some reason, you can’t help but smile as you turn toward your door, your mind wandering to thoughts you probably shouldn’t entertain.

pushing open the door to your apartment, boxes flooded your living room, labels signaling location sticking out in bold black lettering. placing your bag down on the granite island, your elbow props up your head, letting out a deep sigh.

deciding to push every box into its home, you find yourself biting off way more than you you could chew.

what brought you to this realization? the box labeled GLASSWARE. you bought in bulk just in case any got harmed in transport. only to come to find you have several glass plates and bowls stacked inside a flimsy cardboard box.

the only box your dad brought upstairs.

bent down to your knees, a new set and fingers wedged between your white furry carpet and box, struggling to find grip.

finally dropping it, you sigh in frustration, the sound coming out a little louder and jagged.

flopping onto the black couch, your hand wipes across your eyes.

“am i really gonna have to pull all those dishes out and walk them to-“

before you could continue, a knock at the door startles you.

you rise cautiously, brushing your hands on your legs before padding to the door. peeking through the peephole, your breath catches when you see him.

nanami.

you hesitate for a moment before unlocking the door, pulling it open just enough to meet his gaze. his expression is calm, though there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. wearing gray sweats and a large basketball jersey.

“hi.” you say, your voice tentative. “everything okay?”

“i was actually about to ask you the same.” he replies, his deep voice steady.

“i heard a lot of sighing and maybe a bird? thought I should check in.”

“im so sorry no, im just having trouble moving my kitchen boxes… to the kitchen? my dad put them in my living room and it’s just so-“ you notice yourself rambling before tight-lining your lips together.

“sorry.” he just responds in a laugh, hand brushing the back of his head.

“need some help? i finally have a off day and i wouldn’t mind.”

you hesitate, unsure if you should let him into the chaos of your apartment, but something about the steady kindness in his gaze puts you at ease. finally, you step back, opening the door wider.

“okay-” you say softly. “thank you.”

as he steps inside, his presence feels grounding, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the whirlwind of your night. the scent of his cologne lingers as he moves past you, and you can’t help but feel a little lighter knowing you’re not dealing with the mess alone.

you close the door behind him, still feeling a bit flustered as nanami surveys the mess in your living room. his expression remains calm and focused, his hands resting on his hips as he nods toward the heavier boxes stacked near the wall.

“those for the kitchen?” he asks, his voice low and steady.

“uh, yeah.” you reply, brushing a curl out of your face. “but they’re really heavy, you really don’t have to—”

“it’s fine.” he says, already moving toward the boxes.

his jersey shifts slightly as he crouches, revealing a glimpse of toned shoulders and arms. a tattoo covering the majority of his upper arm. the loose fit of the fabric clings just enough to hint at the broad, solid frame beneath it. your eyes flicker downward, and you notice his gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, highlighting the bulge sitting prominent but obviously not at its peak.

you snap your gaze away quickly, heat rising to your cheeks as he lifts one of the heavier boxes like it weighs nothing. his hands grip the sides firmly, veins faintly visible on his forearms as he straightens up.

“where in the kitchen do you want these?” he asks, his tone casual, as if he doesn’t notice the way your attention lingers for just a second too long.

“shit, sorry.” you manage, pointing toward the counter. “by the cabinets, if that’s okay.”

he nods and heads into the kitchen, the sound of his steps against your hardwood floor grounding you in the moment. you follow him instinctively, watching as he places the box down carefully, then goes back for another.

“you’ve been moving a lot of heavy stuff on your own?” he asks as he grabs a second box.

“yeah, i mean- it’s not a big deal. i’ve done all of this alone already.” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt with one hand while the other pans around the partially decorated space.

“you should’ve asked for help.” he glances over his shoulder as he carries the box, his gaze steady.

“i didn’t want to bother anyone and i didn’t know anyone.” you admit, feeling a little sheepish.

“it’s not a bother. better to ask than risk getting hurt.”he says simply, setting the second box down in the kitchen.

his tone is firm but not unkind, and you feel a strange sense of comfort in his practicality. as he goes back for another box, you notice how the fabric of his jersey clings to his back with each movement, the sweatpants hanging loose but perfectly fitting at the same time.

“you really didn’t have to do this.” you say again, your voice softer this time.

he sets the last box down and straightens up, turning to face you.

“it’s not a problem. besides, it’s safer this way. you shouldn’t be lifting this stuff on your own.” he replies, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants.

his eyes are locked onto you, noticing how much small your frame was compared to his. of course he’d envisioned having you under him, gasping for air, something to bring you back down from him wrecking havoc on your swollen cunt.

“well, thank you. i owe you, i mean it.” you smile, feeling a warmth that isn’t just from the embarrassment of the situation.

“you don’t owe me anything. just glad you’re okay.” he shakes his head slightly, his tone as practical as ever.

his words are simple, but the sincerity behind them warms you in a way you didn’t expect. as he heads toward the door, you find yourself hesitating, not ready for him to leave just yet.

“wait.” you say, your voice soft but enough to make him pause.

“yes?” he turns back to you, his expression neutral but attentive.

you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his steady gaze.

“um… would you want to stay for dinner? i was already planning to cook, and it’s the least i can do to thank you.”

his brows lift slightly, the faintest trace of surprise flickering across his face. he doesn’t respond immediately, and you rush to add-

“but no pressure! i just thought, you know, since you’re already here-”

“dinner sounds good. thank you.” his lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and he nods.

“great! it’s nothing fancy, but make yourself comfortable. i’ll get started.” you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a smile breaking across your face.

-

your apartment is dimly lit except for the spotlight on you. candles flicker on the table in the background, adding a sultry ambiance. you’ve carefully arranged the scene: soft blankets draped over the couch, pillows positioned just so, and your favorite playlist humming low in the background.

“honestly, honestly im trying to stay focused”

you press go live, the familiar rush of adrenaline hitting as the chat begins to populate almost instantly.

HOTGIRLHOTFUN. com

➤ YOU ARE NOW LIVE…

messages flood in almost immediately.

user123: she’s back !

xxhunter: finally, she’s live.

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: red’s your color, baby.

joshjnine: take that shit off we came for a show

you smirk at the screen, leaning forward slightly so the delicate strap of your top shifts just enough to tease. your nails, freshly painted to match your lingerie. click softly against the keyboard as you type a quick response.

“hi, babies. missed you.”

your voice follows the words as you say them aloud, smooth and low, letting the sound wrap around the airwaves. the chat explodes in response, and you take a moment to enjoy the attention, the way they hang onto your every word, every move.

“i just need some dick, i just need some love”

you shift back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other slowly, deliberately, the soft fabric of your robe brushing against your skin. your curls fall over one shoulder as you tilt your head, giving the camera just the right angle.

“so-” you begin, your tone teasing, taunting the viewers. “what are we getting into tonight?”

the chat scrolls faster than you can read, but certain comments catch your eye:

xxhunter: put her on camera pls

user567: i’d do anything to be there with you right now

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: take off the bra

darkprince: spin for us, baby. let us see everything.

“girls can't never say they want it, girls can't never say how”

you chuckle softly, letting the sound linger as you rise from the couch. the robe slips from your shoulders as you stand, pooling at your feet like water.

“you want to see everything?” you ask, your tone playful, as you turn slowly, letting your body move with the rhythm of the music.

“girls can't never say they need it, girls can't never say now, oh, now”

the camera captures every curve, every angle, and you know exactly what you’re doing. the confidence feels electric, sparking through your veins as the chat fills with messages. compliments, requests, declarations of love.

but beneath it all, there’s a small, nagging thought in the back of your mind. ever since the last stream, you’ve been extra cautious. the blinds are drawn tightly, the mail hidden away, the camera carefully positioned to avoid any unwanted slips.

still, you can’t help but glance at the corner of your screen every few minutes, double-checking that everything is as it should be. the viewers don’t notice, of course. all they see is you, commanding their attention with every glance, every sway of your hips.

you move closer to the camera, leaning in so your face fills the frame, your lips curving into a slow, inviting smile.

“tell me what you want tonight,” you purr, your voice dripping with honey. “i’m all yours.”

one comment in particular catches your eye.

nknt0: strip, slow.

catching your glossed lip in between your teeth, you hum. crouching down to get on your knees, breast spilling a little over the cup of your bra as you go on fours. crawling to the laptop, your fingers click against the keys.

“then i think we should get a different song on here. any requests?”

your eyes scan the rushed chat, only scanning for one name in particular. the pink screen shines brightly, adding more luminance to your makeup.

then.

nknt0: pussy fairy.

without a second thought, you type the songs name into spotify, slicking play.

“i know you like fucking me, i can tell by the way you in love with me”

standing from the position, you back up enough to have your full body in frame. reaching on the table? your hand grabs hold of shimmering body oil. twisting this cap off, you casually take a few drops into your hand. rubbing the liquid across your chest, dipping your hand in to get your perky buds.

“you can’t get enough of me, well i guess it’s lookin like you stuck with me”

turning your back towards the camera, you look over your shoulder. eyes the only thing visible to them as you pull down one bra strap, sliding your arm through the hoop, you repeat on the other side. your fingers fiddle in the back, with a pout on your lips, you turn around. the bra only being held up by the clamps in the back. you obviously knew how to remove your bra, but for the sake of duration and money, you exaggerate.

“i wish one of you could help me take this thing off, babies.” your tone was nothing short of seductive.

“oh! got it.”

with one swift motion, the flimsy fabric falls to the floor. deciding to sit on the couch instead, you reposition the laptop.

“fuck all yo free time, you don’t need no me time, that’s you and me time”

plopping down on the cheetah print blanket, on your back, head still turned towards the chat. your hands run over your body softly, drawing out slight gasps and moans as your fingers run over your hardened nipples. you take hold of one of your breast, teasing the bud, running one hand down your abdomen to the inside of your underwear.

“we be getting so long that dick make my soul smile, that dick make me so damn proud”

fingers slip inside the tight hole, causing you to arch your back a little. collecting the slick that pooled in the red lace panties, you remove your hand slowly, twisting your body over to show the camera how slippery your middle and ring fingers were.

xxhunter: fuck

user567: lick them clean

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: you’re such a nasty girl

k1nklover sent $250! ‘put them in your mouth’

darkprince: you’re so fucking hot, i wish my gf looked like you

userano321: let me come eat that pussy

kimgofmacity: she feeling it tonight ig lmao

barbbigb: icon icon icon legendary

nknt0: stop fucking playing with me

your eyes widen at the last comment, smirk building across your lips. without a second thought, you place the coated fingers into your mouth, humming at the taste.

“should i use a toy tonight?” the chat continues at the same frantic speed.

“if someone sends $400 you have a deal. or i can just keep playing with my nipples for the next thirty min-“

before you could get the rest of your sentence out.

nknt0 sent $400! ‘do it’

k1nklover sent $400! ‘put them in your mouth’

you reach beside the laptop, grabbing hold of the pink bunny shaped vibrator. placing the toy beside you, laying back on the couch, you push the laptop back with your toes, giggling as the viewers freak out. playing with your boobs, your slowly run your hands down the dip of your waist, fingers grabbing hold of the thin fabric. you twist, bending over in front of the camera, pulling down the panties. you feel the cool air hit your exposed cunt, the arousal dripping down your leg. reaching over to take the toy, from behind you tease your throbbing hole.

the main section of the toy runs up and down the opening. sliding in fully once, you let out a louder moan, other hand grabbing hold of the blanket. fucking the toy in and out of your sloppy cunt, moans slipping from your lips at the traction.

sitting back down, you use your coffee table to prop your legs up, dripping pussy on display to the whole stream. fingers click against the buttons at the white base of the toy. the vibrations run chills up your body, accentuating your nipple from the ripple. the ‘ears’ of the bunny press against the side of your swollen clit as you push the toy inside of you.

nanami watches. he watches as you slip the pale pink toy in and out of your hole. watching intensely as you fall apart, eyes glossed and low. your other hand grazes your titties, playing gently with them while the other abused your pussy.

a ring of white began forming around the base of the dildo. the sounds of your moans filled his airpods, dick growing harder for you with every thrust.

it should be him. he should be there right now, fucking you in front of all 10 thousand people. letting them see you crumble under his touch. watching as he pounds you down on his length, giving you several orgasms before he finishes inside you.

he couldn’t take it. he wanted to storm down to your apartment, bang on the door, and take you right there.

pulling the toy out, your body shakes in stimulation, clear liquid shooting out of you. moans rack your body as you reinsert the toy, still going. tears threatened to spill from your eyes, too blurry to focus on anything the chat was saying. instead just hearing the money sound from viewers sending funds.

you’re too caught up in fucking yourself, you barely hear the knock at your door. it comes once more before you realize you’re not overthinking.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath, scrambling to turn off the stream, tossing the toy under the couch. the chat is still scrolling, messages coming in fast, but you barely glance at them as you close your laptop.

the knock comes again, louder this time, and panic sets in. you look down at yourself, soaked in squirt and cum, oil everywhere. you couldnt slip on the see through robe, grabbing the blanket instead and wrap it around yourself as you hurry to the door.

“who is it?” you call out, your voice a little shaky.

“it’s nanami.” comes the deep, familiar voice from the other side.

your stomach flips. of all people, why him? you glance at the room, making sure nothing incriminating is in view, then tighten the blanket around yourself before unlocking the door.

when you open it, his presence fills the doorway, tall and broad, his expression a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. his eyes flicker over you briefly, taking in the blanket, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin, before settling on your face.

“nanami?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “what- what are you doing here?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his jaw working as if he’s trying to find the right words. finally, he speaks, his tone low and tense.

“was.. bored at my place. was wonder if you wanted to hang but if you’re busy-“ he eyes scan your portly covered body. he could still easily see through the thin blanket you tried to hide behind with help from your ring light.

“um yeah sure just let me put on something different. come in!”

the tall framed man slips in beside you, eyes daring to fall back on your body as you shuffled past to your room. he walks over to your couch, taking a seat on the other side of where you just sat. he couldn’t help but stare at the black laptop, finger tapping a little at his lip before reaching for the device.

just as he knew. the pink tab sat open, chat still rolling as he peered at the amount sitting in your counter.

➤ YOU HAVE EARNED 3.65KUSD FOR THIS STREAM SO FAR

his eyes widen, still watching as the count rises with every passing second. should he quit his job he spent all his life building for to do this?

“nanami? you okay in there?” you ask, shuffling for something decent to wear. deciding on a loose pair of shorts and a large football jersey.

“im good!” he responds, still scrolling around the site, being model of your camera placement.

darkprince: who the fucks the guy?

userano321: woah first cameo?

kimgofmacity: is that a dude?

nanami smiles a little before closing the laptop but not all the way. you rush from your room, makeup refreshed and wearing a new outfit. well, clothes in general. scanning the area, your heart sinks only to realize you didn’t see your bra under your glass coffee table.

“fuck.” you gasp a little.

“what’s up?” nanami asks, standing from his spot on the couch.

“uh, nothing, do you wanna go to yours?”

to be truthful, nanami had also seen the lace fabric. it was tearing him down to know you were a few feet in front of him and all he could do was stare.

“i thought we could, stay here? you have more shows to watch and i wouldn’t mind ordering us some food.”

you freeze, not sure how to act. your usual carefree attitude feels a little more strained tonight, the worry still there, lurking in the background.

“uh, I was thinking of something light. maybe a movie or some random series.”

“sounds good.” he replies, settling back into the couch.

but you can’t quite relax. you keep checking your phone, making sure there’s no notifications from your livestream, even though you know everything’s fine. it’s ridiculous, but the idea of him knowing about your streams—or worse, recognizing what you’d been doing, where you’ve been doing it. makes your stomach twist.

trying to brush it off, you grab the remote and start flicking through your streaming options, but your mind keeps wandering. the soft sound of nanami’s voice fills the air as he comments on some movie suggestions, but all you can think about is whether he’s noticed how

wet the spot he was touching was.

“you okay?” he tilts his head and catches your gaze, sensing something’s off.

you blink, caught off guard. “yeah, yeah. just- tired, sorry.”

“tired?” he repeats, clearly unconvinced.

“ i could go? im sorry for intruding on any-“ your hand grabs hold of his rather large forearm, pulling him back down.

“no! no i meant- sorry i didnt mean to yell. i mean stay, you’re here, i wanna hang with you.” he couldn’t help but stare down at your small frame being swallowed by the black jersey. sitting on the couch on both knees, batting your full lashes up at him. he licks his lips, hungry.

“okay. just let me know if you need me to go.”

“i want you here.” he plops back down on the couch, this time closer. the side of his body touching yours. you land on a psychological thriller while nanami decides to order food. the two of you bicker back and forth about what the plots twist could be.

“i think he’s actually the killer and the little girl isn’t actually possessed.” he munched on a steak bite smothered in sauce, you doing the exact same, dipping the meat into the small black container of sauce.

“that’s maybe the dumbest thing i’ve heard in awhile nami, are you sure you’re a lawyer?” the man scoffs before giving you a joking eye roll.

“for your information im like ten years older than you and i’ve been doing this for years.” he says matter-of-factly, pushing his empty container inside the cheep plastic bag, holding his hand out for your empty bowl.

“sorry, daddy, damn. forgot you were a senior citizen.”

his heart pumps at the nickname, all the blood rushing straight to his dick. shifting in his sweatpants, he coughs, relieving tension in his throat.

“oh shit- sorry i didnt mean to call you that.” your hand shoots to cover your mouth, sitting a little taller on your knees as they dig into the black cushion. the way your hand falls naively on his chest, apologies slipping through your lips. your blown out body waves create almost a curtain around your face as you sink back down to a sitting position. head hung low.

“say it again.” head shooting back up, vision being crowded by hair, you stare at the blonde man in shock.

“huh?” you mumble, watching as he stands from his position on the couch.

“did i stutter, yn? i said say it again, didn’t i?”

you can’t quite understand what got into the man but his eyes were different now. the way he adjusted the drawstrings to his pants. staring down at you, smirk covering his face, as if you were his prey.

“nanami what’s gotten into-“

he wastes no time reaching across the coffee table to grab the laptop. the stream continuing. your eyes flash from the screen to the man staring at you.

“that’s not mine.” he laughs, pushing it back so that both of you were in frame now.

“sure. what, do you think im actually fucking stupid? you don’t think i know what you were doing before you answered the door?”

your heart raced, mind scattered with excuses and explanations yet none stuck. would he tell your landlord this was the way you were making rent? did he want to use it as blackmail? why?

“what’re you doing this for?” you say softly, staring at the man who’s expression softened.

“what? baby no, im not weirded out or anything. ah- if im being honest, your last stream-“ you body shoots up from its spot on the couch, staring at the man in utter disbelief.

“you? found out where i live- you actually came to where i live? do you even really live here?” come to think of it, you’ve never actually seen him entering the apartment.

“yn. calm down. yes i actually live here, i can’t take you to mine if we need to. baby, come here.” you walk back cautiously. sitting with distance, he pulls you back over, throwing his arm around your waist. you watch on the stream, the comments start up again. his head dips between your head and shoulder, lips pressed softly against your neck.

“say my name again.”

“daddy.” you moan out, earning a rasp from the man before you’re flipped over on all fours on the couch. pulling down your shorts, his head dips down, admiring the still glossy view.

“no panties either, it’s like you wanted me, princess. am i right?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your core. your head plops on the side, viewing as your chat went belligerent.

“answer me pretty girl, am i right?” his tongue licks from your swollen clit up to your hole, grasping at air.

“yes, sir! please- please do that again!” tears prick your eyes, tension building under the surface as you try to keep your cool.

his somewhat cool tongue begins to pump in and out of you, sounds of friction filling the room. his large hands grab hold of your arms, pinning them behind you back as he continued to add spit into eating you.

he’s lost in sweet you are. how wet you were against his face. how the soft skin of your thighs cup his cheeks, nose right below your hole, poking at the foreign area. you tasted like heaven. the sweet slick drove him crazy, unable to pull away from any of it. he wanted to eat all of you, unapologetically.

“oh- fuck your tongue feels so- fuck!” a string of curses leave your lips. feeling the man’s tongue swirl around your swollen clit, almost folding you in half. his unoccupied hand starts to remove his sweatpants fully.

“im gonna cum, daddy.” you warn, vision blurring. he doesn’t answer, instead he continues to fuck his lengthy tongue into you. you release over the man’s mouth, body going limp. laughing, he pulls away.

“oh, you’re not done.”

-

your pink glossed lips wrap around the man’s tip, back arched on the couch. his hand held your hair back, watching as you try to fit all of him in your mouth, only to fall short before your gag reflex is triggered. vibrations from the man laughing draws a frown from you.

“what’s wrong, princess. can’t be up the shit you talk to them? try that with me. get on your knees.”

before you could process, you were on your knees in front of the man. he still had hold of your hair, looking down at you. erens eyes dart up at the chat

xxhunter: make her choke on your cock

user567: train her throat

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: how tf did he get to fuck her before me, this shits lame now.

randobando: i wish i was both of them

eren begins to gently lower your head down his length, watching as you try your hardest to go all the way down his massive cock, tears pricking at your eyes.

“stick your tongue out, baby. say ahh.” you follow the directions, throat vibrating. although it felt strange, it was working. your head bobbed up and down, slowly gaining more.

with low and red eyes, you look up at the man. he’s lost in a haze, enjoying how your throat was closing around him. eyes roll to the back of his head as you speed up, adding both your hands around him.

“oh my fucking god, you’re so good at this.” head falling back onto the couch, you hum, continuing to tease his swollen tip with your tongue. drawing your name on it in spit.

“lay on your back.” without hesitation you follow his orders, laying on your back. he hovers over you, taking both feet, giving your white polished toes kisses before throwing them over his shoulders.

without hesitation, you’re full of the man. gasping at how far open you were being stretched, youd never had anything like this before. your nails seek solace on the man’s back, dragging ruby red lines down his torso. his starts slow, digging into your g-spot, getting a feel of how far he could actually take you.

his strokes slow yet unforgiving, gummy walls trying to keep his length inside as he pulled out. your arousal covered his dick, creating loud slap,slap,slap! sounds.

“so fucking sweet, knew you would be.” his head cocks to the side, admiring his view. you fucked out under him, tears falling from the squinted corners of your eyes.

“im gonna cum, baby!” you warn, the burning sensation running circles around your insides. you could feel his pace quicken, trying to get every bit of a reaction. it’s like he was locked in a trance, unable to stop abusing your puffy cunt. his rhythm never faltered as he drilled into you, pressing your body deeper into the couch.

“me too- fuck.” as if on que, you both finish at the same time, bodies dropping from exhaustion. and whatever in the moment possessed you, you take hold of the males jaw, interlocking your lips together.

nanami wastes no time leaning over to the laptop, letting you wave a weak ‘bye’ to your viewers before sliding back onto the couch, placing his lips back on yours.

“wanna go again?”

➤ YOU HAVE EARNED 10.61KUSD FOR THIS STREAM.

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