#floral thigh piece

[satans-knitwear]

The little leggie straps have heart shaped link details 😍

Treat me ~ Tip me ~ More of me

[sweetest-honeybee]

I see that tag, what other piercings did Frank have?? Shaggy hair and piercings as a teen I can't. XD Frank went through a phaseee.

Haha he did! And for a while too, all the way into his mid 20s til he stuck with just the earrings

But as a teen he consistently had a couple extra rings at the top of one ear shown here

And I wanna say he was a septum kinda guy but probably not bc his nose was too low for it to be more satisfyingly visible

Def had a tongue piercing though like barnaby! They bonded over that information 😂

[thinkinonsense]

PAST LIFE⋆

dofp!logan howlett x mutant fem!reader

cw:fingering, cursing, dirty talk, mentions of motherhood, fluff

logan should've known when he accepted the mission to come go back in time to stop the sentinels that you would still be here.

"is there an issue here, hank?"

the sound of your voice made logan's heart flutter. you were barely peaking out from behind the door but logan could see you just fine. he couldn't stop staring.

"no, everything's fine." hank assured you. just as you turned to return to charles's office, you hear the door burst open. this handsome stranger hits hank right in the nose before continuing up the stairs to you.

logan had to take you in for a second. his beautiful future wife stood in front of him and she has absolutely no clue that their married because she's only twenty-five years old.

had you always been this gorgeous? was that even fair? all of these were questions that floated around in his mind.

"who are you and what do you want?" you asked as he reached out to touch you.

"so you've always been this beautiful, huh, princess?" he purred, tucking away a piece of your hair behind your ear.

sure, he was attractive in his brown leather jacket and sunglasses but this man looked in his mid-forties. logan was too busy staring down at your frilly yellow babydoll dress to notice where you're looking at him. his left hand; more specifically the gold band on his ring finger.

"i don't mess with married men." you glare at him. he couldn't help but chuckle darkly down at your innocence.

"oh, my wife wouldn't mind."

god, logan felt like such a pervert for coming on to you but he couldn't help it. you're ethereal beauty was unreal. not that you had aged much since present day, as you two have the slow aging processes in common. older hank would always tell logan that he should be lucky that you agreed to date him because there were plenty of people who would love to take his place. sure, logan believed him but now, he really understood what hank meant.

"where's charles at, sweetheart?" logan asks, inhaling your floral sent.

before you could respond, charles comes barreling down the stairs drunkenly calling after you.

"where've you been?" he asked you then turned to logan. "who the hell are you?"

this should be good.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:���

"how do we know that you're actually from the future?" you asked, sitting atop charles desks, swinging your legs. hank and charles stood outside in the hallway discussing whether or not to trust logan.

"you've always been this stubborn?" logan says under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"how do we even know each other in the future?" you finally asked.

for the past hour, this man has tried to sell this absurd story about how future charles and magneto sent him here together in order to save mutants from sentinels. so far he's managed to convince charles but hank and you were still on the fence.

"we're married, sweetheart." logan smirks wickedly.

there was absolutely no way that you two were married. this man is grumpy, mean looking, and wears dark brown leather. you are an academic scholar who adores pastels and helping other mutants. he had to have you mistaken.

you squint up at him and laugh, "we are married?"

logan nods, walking over to you until he's standing in between your legs.

"tell me something only i would know then."

"your favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry, you hate the cold and winter, anytime you drink coffee you get nightmares, your favorite color is green; but your favorite shade is the color my eyes get when i look at you." logan could see the way your eyes widen, slowly starting to believe him more and more. he couldn't help but feel cocky. "would you like me to continue?"

"im not sure... think you're gonna have to prove it. another way." you challenge him. logan's hand trails up your thigh, playing with the soft yellow material.

"c'mon sweetheart, this is too easy." he mutters against your neck, placing soft kisses and nibbling on the skin.

logan knew you like the back of his hand. he knew exactly what you like and dislike. sometimes you would even tell him that he knew you better than you knew yourself.

"you like when i pull your bottom lip when we kiss. you blush every time i offer for you to sit on my face. one of your favorite ways to fuck is pressed up against a wall or bent over a table..." logan could go on and on.

"we do that...?" you whisper embarrassed by this version of yourself, trying to avoid his burning gaze.

"oh, all the time. sometimes you pull me down on the floor when i come home, begging to ride me right then and there." logan says, once he captures your attention again. you chew on your bottom lip adorably.

a small whimper passes your lips before you remember that hank and charles aren't that far away from the room. one of your hands comes up to logan's chest, slightly pushing him back despite not wanting to.

"w-we should stop." you warn him. "they can hear us."

this was when logan knew that you hadn't discovered part of your mutation yet. he had already assumed that you hadn't but this confirmed it.

"need you to relax, princess." he says, moving higher up to your jaw. your body betrays everything your mouth says, eating out of the palm of his hand. "i promise once you relax, it'll feel like time has stopped."

logan's lips taunt yours; not quite giving you what you want. fed up, you overpower him and push his lips into yours. the only word floating around in your head was 'relax'.

carefully, logan lays you back on the desk. something about being held in the strangers arms set you at easy; maybe he was really your husband?

"you don't know this yet..." logan huffs. "but you can stop time."

you scoff, thinking that you caught him in a lie. "no, i can't."

"if you relax like i said, then you can." logan mutters against your collarbone.

one of his hands slides up your thigh while the other rubs circles on your hip bone. was this wrong of you? if he is telling the truth –and it seems like he is– then technically he is your husband and it's not wrong to mess around with your husband.

"open up for me, babydoll." logan mumbled against your collarbones, placing wet kisses and nibbling on the delicate skin.

your legs spread with easy as his callused fingers rub over your cotton panties. the soft material of your dress is bunched at your tummy as he tugs your panties off, pocketing them for himself. his thumb returns to rub your button.

"p-please..." you whimper, looking up at logan with bambi eyes. "need more."

"anything for you, princess." he groans, slipping two fingers inside of you as gently as he could. this earned a loud moan from you when he nudged that spot deep in your gummy walls with ease.

"see how well i know my wife?" logan gloats, pressing soft kisses to your lips but never letting you catch him. "you usually prefer it rougher than this but i'm not cruel."

"y-you can go... can go faster." you pant, never having anything quite his size yet.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he says in a condescending tone. "wanna know something 'bout the future?"

it was difficult but your managed to nod your head despite how clearly fucked out you were at this point.

"a couple weeks ago, you came home telling me how much you want to be a mom; how you've always wanted to be a mom." he pulls back to look at your pretty face, lust darkening your eyes and slick pouring out of you, practically dripping down his palm onto the desk. "so, every chance we get alone you've been begging for me to go raw inside of you."

logan loved how even as you're all spread out for him, you're still blushing at his filthy words.

"look at you, blushing while you soak my hand." he mocks with a smirk.

"i'm s-so close, please!" you beg so politely.

his thick fingers pick up the pace as you clench down on them; jaw dropped and head thrown back. logan's other hand supports your back while your cute painted blue nails dig into his wrist as your climax starts to wash over you.

"hey sweetheart, look out the window." he chuckles, moving your chin to stare hazily out the glass window.

you couldn't believe it. every car, bird, street light, everything was stopped. everything but you and logan.

"how did you know that i could...?"

"you can't always control it but when you calm your mind, it's easier for you to do it."

"does it always happen when we...?"

"when we have sex...?" logan chuckles as you hide yourself in his chest. you nod. "no. over time you've found ways to control it. sometimes if we need more time, you might manipulate it."

"future me sounds cool." you giggle, lifting up to look at him. "how do we meet?"

"i can't tell you that." he smiles.

"well, then where are you in this timeline? how can i meet you sooner?"

"i'm not a very good man during this time, baby. you'll meet me when the time is right."

"what if you don't want me then? how do you know we will still get together?"

logan looks down at your pouty lips, swiping his thumb across it.

"i'll always come back for you. no matter the timeline or where we are in life; i'll find you again."

"promise?"

"i promise you, sweetheart. don't worry that beautiful mind of yours." he assures, kissing the tear strolling down your cheek.

logan reaches down and kisses you tenderly, pulling you out of the time freeze. suddenly the door swings open on the two of you. thank god, logan had quick reflexes, pulling your dress back down to cover you.

charles calls your name then asks, "what are you doing?"

"it's okay, he's my husband."

a loud laugh escapes logan at your lovey dovey tone, almost making hank and charles eyes fall out of their heads. you couldn't wait to meet logan again in the future.

[augustinewrites]

satoru bday fic! cw: suggestive

gojo thinks he should be nominated for boyfriend of the year.

not only had he managed to get the kids to school on time, pick up the groceries, get all his reports in to principal yaga, and clean the kitchen, but he’d managed to do it all while extremely hungover on his birthday. 

he’d even managed to do it all before you’d even gotten out of bed.

he doesn’t blame you for sleeping in. the impromptu birthday party he’d thrown had left you all in quite the state by the early hours of morning. you need the re—

“satoru! could you come in here for a second?”

“coming!” he calls back, shoving the coupon that’d fallen from shoko’s birthday card into his wallet before making his way to the bedroom. “hey, let’s get some frozen yogurt when the kids get ho— holy shit.”

your face breaks out into a grin of triumph at his sudden silence. gojo’s rightfully stunned, carefully studying each bit of revealing lace and the way it sits against your body before committing it to memory. 

“is that…”

“the set you had commissioned in paris,” you hum, nonchalant as you drag your fingertips up your hip. “that’s the one.”

he takes a few slow steps toward where you are and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, arousal warming his whole body. “but you said you’d never wear it because—”

“because i was saving it for something special,” you finish, leaning up and shifting towards him. “like your birthday.” 

“well,” he sighs as you close the distance between you. “i should unwrap my gift then.”

“please try not to tear it,” you murmur as his lips brush over your pulse. “i’d very much like to wear it again, and i, oh, i saw the charge on the credit card…”

his reply is no more than a distracted hum as you shift onto his lap, allowing curious hands to explore your body and hungry lips to move against yours. 

the lace is soft on your skin, his hands eagerly working to undo the ties holding up delicate florals and sheer material. 

“satoru, i need you.” your breath is warm against his skin, exciting him more as he goes to pull off garter belt.

“uh, babe?”

“hm?”

“how do you take this off?”

_____

“well, i connected it to this piece—”

“but we can’t take this piece off unless we take this one off too. that doesn’t make any sense.” 

“i’m telling you, that’s how i put it on.”

“then why won’t it come off?”

it’s then that gojo decides custom lingerie should come with instructions. when he’d designed it, he hadn’t actually considered the logistics of this operation.

“okay,” you huff, turning around and placing your hands on his shoulders. “you’re just going to have to tear it.”

“fine by me,” he grins, slightly smug as he curls his fingers around the expensive material and tears—

the two of you scramble up when the front door slams open. it’s in that moment you realize that satoru hadn’t closed the bedroom door. 

“mom!” you hear megumi shout, his stomps echoing through the apartment. “tsumiki ate one of my snacks!”

“shit, fuck.” cursing, you grab his discarded t-shirt and slip it on before jumping into bed. satoru slips in next to you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and pressing against you from behind.

“satoru!” you hiss when you feel something poke the back of your thigh. 

“we just made out for like ten minutes,” he whispers back, only pulling you closer. “you didn’t think i’d get one?”

“put it away!”

“i could, but—”

you manage to summon one of your divine dogs in time for it push the bedroom door closed, breathing a sigh of relief when the kid’s footsteps come to a halt. 

“we’ll be out in a second!” you call, hearing their hushed argument as they trudge back to the kitchen.

“i might need more than a second…”

you hit satoru in the face with a pillow. “you’ll get the rest of your birthday gift tonight, after you drop the kids off at nanami’s.

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒ㅤ𓈒 Yandere!WuWa! Men x Reader 𓈒 ⭒

゜⌒ヽ❥ Dark Romance

°•❃•°

꒷꒦꒷Scar | 伤痕

Your fear tastes like nectar, thick and sweet, and sacrilegious. Scar gulps down your apprehension in starving strides. Cradling the burn between his teeth, savoring the sensation of the embers coiling and seething inside his veins. You're too perfect, thrashing underneath him, caged and defiant his little lost lamb. trying to flee, begging for freedom like a fever dream high. He licks your iridescent tears with zealous maniacal jubilation. Relishing in the soft warm flesh of your cheek marinated in your woe. He wants to taste them every day, force them from your pretty petrified eyes with scorching kisses and touches that shatter your very bones.

Scar's talons etch jagged filigrees across your body engraving terrors and torments all parodying "I love you". But he can't love, not really, love is too gentle too vain, he needs to consume, to feel the reverberations trapped between your bones. Scar's kisses burn wakes down your spine, slipping between the vertebras. Hollowing out your essence piece by piece, his hunger knows no bonds, refusing to dwindle until he's bled every delicious part of you dry. Until he feels your heart between his teeth.

˚✶˚Jiyan | 忌炎

You trace his markings, nails gliding gingerly through the jagged crystals of his tacet mark. He kisses the hollow of your palm, basking in the sweet giggle you gift him. You're his precious treasure, a sweet gem imported from the silk roads themselves. He'd do anything to keep you safe binding your soul to his tattered one. Jiyan is the Qingloong that everyone looks up to, the indestructible pillar of Jinzhou. And yet a simple smile from you is all it takes to shatter his illusion of strength.

Between patients, his mother would sometimes grace him with fables about Dragons, not Loong, not the creature their nation worshiped but Dragons monsters from the western nations. She'd tell him How they hoarded exotic treasures from all corners of the world. Growing powerful in the light of other's envy. They did anything to protect their gold coins and pearl necklaces, kill, and maim in the name of obsession. Back then he'd found such creatures disgusting, dubbed it blasphemy to even mention them in the same breath as the deific Loong. Now he thinks he's more dragon than Loong. Hoarding you away keeping you only to himself. Promising to maul any who try to rob him of your sweet kisses and angelic laughter.

𒆜Calcharo | 卡卡罗

You come prepackaged with a soft smile and a docile heart. Calcharo thinks it's all from the privilege of having lived a satisfactory life. Cherished, overfed, protected. All the things stripped of him so young. He shouldn't be jealous though, after all, he has the complacency to thank for turning his darling into such an ideal doll. Jejune and helpless, shivering under his cold touch. He harbors you between his thighs, enjoying the way your pearl-kissed dress pools on the floor. An ivory testament to the innocence he so craves. Calcharo's calloused fingers entrap the hollow of your hips pulling you harshly against him, he can't get enough of you. His lips kiss the dip of your neck nose bumping the back of your ear. Enraptured by the floral scent of your perfume.

You tried to run again today, flee when he'd been out escorting a merchant across the desert terrain. His men had caught you, binded you all pretty and left you in his chamber. He flashes you a crooked smile upon entry. Watching as you struggle and glare knowing damn well it won't change a thing. "Really little rabbit? I thought we had ceased playing such foolish games." He grasps your chin pulling you closer, your knees slide across the wooden floor scuffing from the friction. His cold lips trace your own as he whispers degradations laced with romance. Calcharo leans down for the kill, a lethal crushing kiss. Trapping your lips and engulfing your essence. Laughing when you're foolish enough to return the favor. You shiver and moan and it takes every bit of willpower not to devour you right then and there.

☄Mortefi | 莫特斐

The universe reverberates to a familiar tune when he first sees you. Singing a melody he swears he's heard each night when he lays his wry head to rest. What kind of creature are you? A cacophony of starsongs and golden echoes. He longs to touch you, to permit his flames to traverse your body searing you until you shine with the purity you all so deserve. He loses himself in the melody of your voice, the lost tune of a fading nova. Something too ethereal to be of this crude world.

Mortefi fancies himself a scientist and takes utmost pride in the way his mind curves around a problem. Floating through the riddles seeking answers in the dark. He can fix anything, create anything. And yet you stand before him defiant of his understanding. Mortefi grabs you by the collar, cradling a rogue sun within his palms, kissing its rays trying to grasp comprehension between his teeth and swallow it whole. It doesn't work by the end of the kiss you are still an anomaly and he is still a scientist wearing the heart as some hapless love-struck schoolboy. The need to understand you grows claws tearing at his mind, desperation pierces his throat whenever he catches a mere glimpse of you. He needs to understand, to tear you open and choke your secrets.

҉　Aalto | 秋水

Aalto's fingers weave through your hair, silk traversing through bone and flesh, flowing free in the aero he produces subconsciously. He cradles you delicately in his arms, trying his best to ignore the sour frown etched upon your face. He creates fables, spinning stories out of silk and air trying to win your interest with tales of stray sheep and fallen stars. Of lost treasures on the jade road and little girls with fire flowing through their veins. Your frown doesn't falter.

He kisses you again, and again and again. Trying to pry out adoration and devotion from between your bones. He struggles, whining about detesting and freedom. It sounds so trivial especially when he can give you everything your heart desires. He can't let you go, not when his very essence aches to feel you between his arms. Aalto wonders what stories he must make to erase that blood-curdling frown of yours. What information does he need to lay out your feet for you to grace his lips with your own? A lover's kiss, not whatever this is. I love you he whispers, he doubts you even care.

Let me know what you think. Should I do yandere Jiyan x reader x Yandere Calcharo next? ~💜

[midnightbluebells03]

Request: The reader and ellie are friends, but the reader doesn't know if she likes girls or not, so ellie offers to let her experiment on her. Friends to lovers and mutual pining. 💓 a happy ending, preferably. Up to you whether or not to include smut!

FALLING INTO ME

CW - hair pulling, mentions of past experiences with men, oral (R receiving), thigh grinding

WC - about 2k - no outbreak AU

Leave me Ellie or Abby requests x

This was wrong right? Infront of you your childhood best friend Ellie sits crossed legged on her bed. The faded plaid sheets that have replaced dinosaurs from her youth clutched in your unforgiving grasp.

"We don't have to do anything" she says barely above a whisper. Like she's afraid to even suggest it. The air is tight, hot, like someone lit a fire and let the smoke invade the room. But there's Ellie. Her hand sitting on your thigh as her thumb swipes across bare skin, the floral sleep shorts you had opteded for letting her trace over it with no barrier. Her back pressed to the headboard like it's the only thing keeping her sitting upright. "I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry". Her hand retreats with a slight tremble.

Just ten minutes ago you were sharing a bottle of some cheap wine Ellie had got from the corner store. Giggling and reminiscing on your intertwined lives, awkward teen phases that melted into adulthood when you let it slip.

You think you might like girls.

Of course you weren't sure, you'd never done anything with a girl, but all your experiences with boys just felt empty. Felt like a chore more than fun. And who better to tell than Ellie? She had been out for years, having had her fair share of girlfriends despite her slightly awkward attitude at times. When the word 'experiment' left your lips you saw a glint in her eyes.

It made her pause, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and place the bottle onto the nightstand. Making space for it amongst the clutter. The way she looked at you made you tilt your head in confusion, until she opened her mouth.

"You could experiment with me"

"Ellie" you finally speak up, grasping her wrist gently to halt her movement. Fingers grazing over her tattoo and making her gaze snap from the floor to your eyes. God she did really have the prettiest eyes. You'd always thought so, oftentimes comparing the hues to the fresh grass during summer or the moss growing deep in your parents garden. "I want to"

"Yeah?" She looks like she doesn't believe you, eyebrows slightly knitted together. You swallow hard before nodding, Ellie beckons you over with her hand. "Cm'here" when you inch closer you can't help but watch how Ellie flicks her tounge over her slightly chapped lips. Feeling her slowly move to hold onto your waist as you start to straddle her lap while your hands rest on her shoulders. "If you want to stop just tell me okay?"

"Promise" you feel your heart speed up as Ellie leans in. Far enough where you could kiss her but she let's you make the choice. So you do. Pressing your lips to hers and letting your eyes flutter shut.

And it makes it feel like a firework has went off in your chest.

The two of you mesh together like puzzle pieces, soft and slow while your mind races with a million thoughts. You can feel how Ellie is holding back, her hands not moving from their position on your waist. But after a few minutes when you rock your hips forward slightly you could almost swear she groans into your mouth. So you do it again, making her pull back from the kiss.

"Can I touch you?" She was always like this, always asking a million question. Things like if you wanted the last slice of pizza or what movie to put on. She always let you take the lead, like she was afraid of making the wrong choice. You nod but she just chuckles softly. "Words darling" it makes you want to clentch your thighs together, the way her her accent slips into that semi texan drawl that she picked up from Joel.

Your hands come over the top of hers, guding her up and under your tank top "Please Els"

Her fingers are calloused from the years of guitar, running up your skin slowly. Too slowly. But you don't want to complain, not with the way she's looking at you. Eyes following her hands as she pushes the fabric further up your body. You decide to speed it up a little. Taking the fabric in your own hands and pulling it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room.

Normally this is when you'd start to feel weird. Your body would almost stiffen and your brain would be flooded with thoughts of leaving. A deep guilt or twisted knot in your throat.

But not now.

Not with Ellie.

Instead your stomach tightens at how her eyes take you in. Slowly scanning over you like you're the most breath taking thing she's even seen. Her hands pause just before reaching your breasts, her pupils so blown her green eyes as almost black as she looks up at you.

"Take it off?" She whispers. Her finger coming up to ghost over the band of your bra. You nod, reaching around with shaky hands to undo the clasp. Letting the bra fall onto Ellie's lap in the sliver of space between you two. She picks it up and moves it to the side, carefully. Like it was priceless even though it was the cheapest one you owned. Some target bralette that was on sale. It was nothing like how your previous partners treated your belongings. With them it was always thrown across the room like trash, nothing more than an obstacle to their pleasure. "You're so- you're just so- fuck" Ellie mumbles before chewing on her bottom lip. Her cheeks flushed the sweetest shade of pink as her hands slowly creep up your sides, inching towards your breasts.

"Ellie" you whine softly, the ache between your legs become worse with every passing second. Like you were dying for her to just touch you. It makes her lock eyes with you, as her thumb runs over your nipple. Making them stiffen and forcing a soft gasp from your lips.

"Just tell me what you want baby" her lips trail down your neck slowly as she mumbles into your skin. "I'll give you everything just tell me"

Your voice cracks slightly as you finally manage to say "Touch me"

You can feel as a slight smirk creeps onto her lips. Her fingers continuing to toy with your nipples. Just enough to make you needy but not enough to scratch the itch in your core. "I am". The faux innocence in her voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Ellie" you huff, feeling your face heat up at what you're about to say. "Fuck me please? Wanna know what it's like" with that Ellie leans into your neck fully while her hands keep on your chest, starting to place kisses down your skin as your head tips back. You can feel her smile as she moves further down, nipping slightly at your pulse point. Your hand moves to her hair, gripping softly while your hips uncontrollably start to rock against her. Desperate for any friction. Ellie pulls back but before you can complain she taps your hip.

"Straddle my thigh" you tilt you head confused but she gives you a smile before brushing a lose strand of hair out your face. "Trust me". So you do what she's asks, shifting until your legs are either side of her thigh. Ellie brings her hands to your hips, starting to steadily rock you against her. You gasp then moan softly. Almost teary eyed at finally getting some real touch from her. Even if it's clad by several layers of fabric. "See? How's that feel?"

"Good" you say with a shaky voice as Ellie sets your pace. Guiding you with a tight grip. "Feels good Ellie fuck"

"Mm" she coos softly, kissing over your collarbones before nipping at the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. "Just gotta get you ready yeah? Get you all wet for when I fuck you so good you'll forget about all the guys that couldn't make you cum". Her lips move down to your hardened nipples, wrapping around one of them as you throw you head back in pleasure.

Now this Ellie?

This was a whole new person. Like her awkward shell broke away and left someone who you were going to be thinking about forever. Suddenly all the girls she managed to get with make sense, because she's hardly touched you and you're soaking through your panties.

"Fuck" your hands tighten on her shoulders as her tounge rolls over your nipple. You still your hips, almost afraid that she'll make you cum just from this and that makes her pause. Detaching from you with a confused look.

Her eyebrows knit together and her hand comes up to cup your hot cheek. "You okay?"

Maybe it's the wine, maybe it's the years of subtle crushing. Or maybe it's the way your almost certain there's a wet patch on Ellie's pyjama bottoms but you can't help stumbling out. "Fuck me Ellie"

Her hand snakes back down to your hip and she flips you over, making you squeal as your back hits the sheets. A slight giggle leaving your lips before Ellie crashes hers with yours. Her hand moving down your stomach to the band of your shorts. She pulls back but you don't give her a a chance to ask, already pulling off your shorts and panties. Kicking them onto the floor as Ellie moves down to between your legs.

"What you doing?" You ask with a slight tilt to your head, propping yourself onto your elbows to look down at her.

"What's it looks like?" She asks with a slight chuckle, starting to pepper kisses up your inner thighs but pausing before reaching your dripping pussy. "What? No one eat you out before?". Her smile fades when you shake your head, eyes darting between you and the sight before her. "That's just criminal dude"

Before you can comment on the fact she's just called you dude her tounge licks a fat strip through your folds. Making you gasp and grip the sheets. Skilled tounge circling your clit while her eyes stay focused on you. With a certain flick your hand flies to grab onto her auburn locks, tugging from the root as Ellie moans into you.eyes fluttering shut as your hips start to rutt against her face, changing a high you've never even come close to with others.

"Ellie" you whine as your back arches, soft pants filling the room as her hands creep up your hips and pull you closer. Making you moan so loudly you're almost certain anyone walking by outside would've heard. "Fuck, fuck, Els- gonna-!". Ellie doesn't falter, doesn't give you a second to breath as your orgasm rushes through you. Hips desperately trying to escape Ellie's grasp as she works you through it, no sign of caring about the way your thighs clamp around her head unforgivingly.

By the time she pulls away to lick your slick from her lips your brain is fuzzy. Staring up at the same ceiling you helped pull glow in the dark stickers off as Ellie taps your shin.

"You...you okay?" Her voice sounds so small. You finally manage to hold yourself up to look at her. Lips swollen from your teeth sinking into them and face hot to the touch.

"That...Els that-" your words get caught in your throat so instead you reach for the collar of her shirt. Pulling her up until your lips crash together, the taste of yourself filling your mouth as Ellie places a hand on the back of your neck.

When you two part she gives you a cocky smile. Gliding her fingers across your cheek before moving the loose babyhairs out of your face. "I'm gonna take that as a five star review then?"

You giggle before fake thinking. "Hmm I don't know Els think I need to try it again, yknow get all the data".

She nods with pursed lips, a serious expression taking over her face. "For science".

"For science".

[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.

[morbidlcve]

Picnic (18+)

pairings: natasha x reader

word count: 900

cw: fingering, slight hair pulling, semi-public sex (?), making out, lmk if there is anymore.

minors dni please

The soft breeze flowed freely through the little summer dress you had on, white, floral, and frilly around the edges. Your hair flew whimsically behind your back. You sat facing the open fields, the sun mixing in with the sky and the few clouds, making the world look at peace, while you nibbled on a few pieces of fruit and sandwiches your girlfriend had picked for the two of you, enjoying your afternoon sitting under a tree. You heard her close her book and shuffle towards you. Smiling, you looked down at your fingers, playing with the fings on your fingers. Natasha’s hands, once occupied with the book she was reading, now made their way to your hips. You felt her tug you against her, your back coming into contact with her chest, you softly giggling at her neediness. The woman couldn’t leave you alone.

You were now situated between her legs, her arms worming their way around your torso, pulling you impossibly closer to her. You felt her nose trailing down your neck, then felt her lips press against your skin. Your hands wrapped around hers, holding her close to you. Tilting your head to the side slightly, you gave her more room to press her oh so soft kisses into you. 

“So beautiful, baby”, she muttered against your ear, littering the area with her lips. Your hands tightened around her arms, her hand worked free from your hold, and her fingers met the underside of your chin, turning your face towards hers. “So beautiful”, she whispered, your faces so close you could see the red tint of her lips of the berries she had eaten. 

You were the first to lose your composure and pressed your lips to hers, slightly turning your body to kiss her properly. Natasha’s hands slid from your front to wander down your sides to settle on your hips. Her touch left a trail of scorches reaching further than where she stopped to sink into your lower belly and rekindle a soft flame within you. 

Her tongue licked into your mouth, holding the side of your face so gently she feared you might crumble away with the faintest amount of pressure. Your hands wove into her hair, holding her close to you. Your fingers worked through the delicate strands of her hair as you faintly whined against her. 

You felt her smirk slightly against you, feeling her hand move to the inside of your thigh. Your hips jutted at the contact, and you heard her airy chuckle from behind you. “Sensitive are we, my love?” she muttered into your ear. “Please..” you whispered, feeling her fingers slide over your clothed cunt. 

“But what if someone sees us?” you knew she smiled against you, teasing you, leaning down to kiss your neck. “Don’t care, need you.” she moved your panties to the side and felt how much you needed her. “Oh baby, so wet for me”, she groaned, circling your clit, taking pride in watching you writhe against her. 

Her deft fingers trailed down the skin of your pussy, gathering your wetness before firmly pressing against your entrance, slowly pushing them into you. “Oh god, Nat!” you breathe, holding the back of her neck, watching her fingers work into you. Natasha continued to press soft kisses against your neck as you whined and moaned against her. 

Her fingers worked into you at an increasing speed, ever so slightly curling them to brush against the sensitive spot she knows all too well. Your head was thrown back, and you pulled her to your mouth, the kiss hot and needy, your tongue slipping across her lips, pressing into your mouth, prompting her to suckle your tongue. 

She brought her thumb to rub slow, agonising circles against your clit, completely contradicting the speed of her fingers, setting your nerves ablaze and your thighs to tremble. Your breathing turned heavy as Nat pulled away and littered your face with soft kisses. 

“So close, Nat, please”, you whimpered, bucking your hips to meet her hands, to which her arm encircled your waist, keeping you flush against her. “You going to cum baby? Huh? Make a mess on my fingers? Fucking do it.” she grunted, turning her head back into your neck, sucking on the weak spot in your neck, thumbing your clit at an increased speed. 

“Fuck! Yes”, you cried out, gripping her hair at the back of her neck, your body liquifying as a hot flush took over you. Your body turns molten, and your nerves shriveling up as Natasha bullies that spot inside you, making you reach the greatest heights. You felt yourself release, your body buzzing with adrenaline, shaking as she continued to work you through the throes of pleasure coursing through you. 

“So beautiful,” she muttered, her hand combing through your hair, lulling you back to her. You slowly turned into her side, breathing her in, the faint smell of tangerine and cut grass invading your senses. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly as she laid a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Nat?” you whispered to her throughout the silent field. “Yeah?” she muttered against your head. “Let’s go home”, you mumble to her. “Of course, baby, let’s go home,” she says to you. You quickly put the food into the bag you brought and folded up the blanket before retreating to the car to head home. 

First post, eek. Please let me know how i did.

[erwinsvow]

there is nothing in this world that rafe cameron loves more than a sundress.

correction—that used to be the case. there's nothing in this world that rafe loves more than you in a sundress.

what had started off as a small preference, usually just joked about and then forgotten until the next sundress season started, had now turned into a full-blown obsession.

rafe stares, though he really shouldn't—mostly because he looks like a complete creep with his gaze locked on you all the time. even when you're just a few feet away, his eyes are burning holes through your body, especially when you're in one of those dresses.

he stares at the hem, how it floats around your thighs when you walk and brushes gently against your skin. doesn't that bother you? he thinks to himself, fully knowing how sensitive that part of you is because usually he's the one touching you there. you squirm when his fingers trace behind your knee and up your thighs, but the dress doesn't seem to do anything like that.

he stares at thin straps, sometimes hastily tied into a bow resting on the top of your shoulders, other times skinny little things that he thinks he could rip off with a little tug. he wouldn't even have to put much strength into it, it would probably tear away from your dress at the first pull. he can't—of course—you love your precious dresses too much for that and he's thinking these thoughts at the dinner table in front of a whole restaurant, but the thought still lingers.

other times it's the way the straps have slid off your shoulder, resting around your arm until you bring your fingers to lift it again. and even then, it just falls again at the next jostle of your body.

like now, when you're shopping for something new and rafe's following right behind you. there's a shopping bag in one hand that you won't let him hold, and your purse on the other arm, and everytime you try to browse through a rack, the strap falls down.

you give up after the next few times, letting your bare shoulder face rafe while you try to find a new pair of jeans from the options in front of you. when you pick up a pair and turn to rafe, you find he's already staring.

"rafe?" you ask, not sure exactly what he's looking at you so keenly for. "do you like these?"

you hold the jeans out to him for an opinion, though you know what'll he say—that all of the ones on the rack look the same to him.

but he doesn't say anything. still staring at you with an intensity you don't understand, your boyfriend's eyes briefly flick from the jeans back to you, and then to your shoulder. he reaches out, fingers brushing your skin, and your head turns to follow. he picks up the fallen strap from your arm and brings it up around the curve of your shoulder until it's secured once again.

"oh," you say, turning to rafe with a smile. your face feels surprisingly hot. "thank you."

"yeah," rafe mutters, looking back at you while you turn—a little confused—back to the jeans on the rack.

it's not just the straps, either, it's all of it. the pretty colors that make your skin glow, some of the floral patterns he's engrained into his memory from looking at for far too long, even the way the dress sits on your body.

but more than that, it's because he knows exactly what's underneath these dresses and what's waiting for him.

he knows all of it—miles of smooth skin, curves that are made for his touch, the places where the two of you fit together like pieces of a puzzle. staring at you now, mindlessly sifting through the clothes without a second thought or even an understanding of what exactly is running through your boyfriend's mind, you wander over to other dresses.

there's more of the same—skinny straps and short, flowy skirts. each one you hold up paints a vivid picture in his head—how easily he could lift it up to your hips, how the fabric would look bunched around your stomach while he holds you in place.

he does that a lot—keep you in your little dresses while he fucks you, sometimes out of impatience, sometimes out of the sheer desire to watch your body sweat and strain inside the material until he eventually gives in and rips it up.

yes, rafe loves your sundresses.

"pink.." you say, holding up one dress with another sweet smile, snapping him out of his thoughts instantly. "or white?"

both look similar—the pink is smaller, maybe a little more snug on you, which is an appealing thought. the white is looser, but with the little straps he likes so much, the ones he can untie with one tug and reveal your tits in one go.

"hm," rafe says, as though he's actually considering it. he leans in a little, and you keep smiling, eyes a little big, waiting for an answer. but you don't get one, just rafe taking both hangers out of your hand.

"no, i didn't mean-"

"i know. c'mon, kid, let's get outta here."

"rafe, i just want one-"

"well you're gettin' both."

a little pout takes over your features—you don't really mean it, he knows, since two dresses instead of one is nothing to complain about. instead he knows you feel bad about it. but to you, rafe is nothing if not generous. he turns back, clutching both of your new dresses way too tightly in his fist.

"how 'bout.. you get both, and you thank me at home? huh?" your pout replaced with a smile, you nod at rafe while you lead him to the check out counter.

he stares at the back of your dress while you walk away. too distracted again, he stays in place, watching.

"rafe? are you coming?"

"yeah, kid. comin'."

[munsonsmixtapes]

Under Water

Eddie x fem!reader

summary: Eddie moves in with Steve, Robin, and Nancy and decides to invite you over for a swim to break in the new pool while everyone is at work.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (please don’t do this)

The sun shone down on the pool in the backyard, making it look very inviting on the very hot summer day. The temperature had reached its peak in the late afternoon and despite not caring that much for swimming, Eddie decided to invite you over, desperate to see you in whatever swimsuit you decided to put on.

He had just moved in with Steve, Robin, and Nancy and neither of them had used the pool yet. He thought that with everyone gone at work, it was a perfect opportunity for the two of you to finally have some alone time. Ever since he had moved in with his friends, it seemed like there was always someone around, even when you were in his room.

You showed up not long after Eddie called you in a white button up shirt that stopped right at the middle of your thigh and he wondered what you were hiding underneath it. As soon as you stepped through the door, Eddie pulled you in for a kiss, his hands quick to unbutton your shirt to see what kind of swimsuit you were wearing.

He finally got the shirt open and pulled away to get a look at your swimsuit, letting out a gasp as how small it was. It was a little, yellow, floral thing and in all of the times you had been to the pool together, he had never seen that one and he decided that you had definitely been holding out on him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hands gripping your bare waist. “Look at you. Hotter than the last time I saw you. So hot it’s almost unfair.” His lips moved to your neck and you leaned your head to the side to give him more access. He gave the spot a soft bite and you whined at the tingle it left behind. He licked a stripe across the spot then took an inhale, breathing in your scent. He ran his nose along your jaw, taking in another deep breath.

“Smell so good sweetheart, bet you taste even better.” He pulled back then pulled you in for a kiss, quick to lick into your mouth, swirling his tongue around seeming to be on the hunt to find something. You moaned as his tongue scraped against yours and he felt his dick twitch at the sound.

“And I was right,” he chuckled, pressing his lips to yours. “Taste so good. What is that?”

“Had some chocolate before I came over.”

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” He asked and you gave him a devilish smirk that he was eating up.

“Maybe.”

“Well, it worked. Wanna move things to the pool?”

“Definitely.” His lips connected to yours once again and he pushed the shirt off your shoulders and down your arms, letting it fall to the floor in a messy pile.

Eddie opened the sliding glass door and pulled you out onto the patio, desperate for your lips just like always. He could kiss you for the rest of his life if it meant that he’d die with his lips attached to yours as he took his last breath.

He pulled you over to the pool and leaned in for yet another kiss, his hands resting on your back. They moved down into the bottoms of your swimsuit, cupping your ass before giving it a squeeze. You let out a yelp into his mouth and he just laughed as he cupped the very bottom and lifted as he murmured the word “jump” as he brought your mouth to his once more.

You jumped and he caught you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms moving to his neck. He carried you over to the steps and descended them with you in his arms and was surprised that he made it down in one piece considered the fact that his was so focused on kissing you.

Eddie’s lips moved back down to your neck as he backed you against the wall. He sucked on the spot as his hands moved to the back of the top of your swimsuit, untying it as you moaned at the delicious feeling of his lips on your neck.

The knot untied pretty easily and Eddie pulled your top away from your body, letting it float in the water. You didn’t mind since you weren’t going to need it with what the two of you were going to get up to. His teeth grazed the skin and you grabbed onto the wall as you let out a loud moan.

“Oh,” was all you were able to get out and Eddie just chuckled against your neck.

“You like that, princess? Think I need to hear that sound again, but a little louder this time, yeah?” He full on bit your neck and you scratched his back in response.

“Eddie, fuck,” you whimpered, scratching up his back even more.

“That’s right, honey,” he encouraged. “Just like that.” He gave your neck another suck, getting the exact sounds he wanted from your mouth. You sounded so hot that it was unfair.

“Sh-shit, Eddie, so good,” you whined and you both could feel his dick tenting in his swim trunks. If he didn’t get it inside you right then, he was going to cream his pants for sure. He removed his swim trunks in a hurry and pulled away from your neck, his eyes boring into yours. They were glazed over with lust you nodded at him, letting him know that he could get inside you.

“I-I don’t have a condom,” he told you. “They’re upstairs.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m on birth control and I just got a check up in that area and I’m good.”

“I’m also good in that department.”

“And besides, I kind of like the idea of raw dogging.”

“Me too,” he breathed. He then pulled off your bottoms then grabbed onto your hips and pounded into you, causing you moan loudly as you threw your head back.

Eddie pumped his dick in and out of you so quickly that it caused water to splash up on the both of you, but Eddie didn’t care. He was more focused on seeing your tits bouncing as he fucked you senseless.

“Fuck, feels so good to be raw inside of you,” Eddie groaned.

“And your dick feels good, baby,” you whined in response. “So good.”

Eddie’s slotted his lips between yours as best he could as he continued to pound into you, hearing the most delicious moans falling from your lips. His hands moved to your ass as he tried his best to fit all of himself inside you. It was a bit tight, but he was successful. He had never done that before, afraid that he would hurt you, but you seemed just fine. You loved it, in fact, loving that you could feel ever since inch of him inside your cunt.

You fell into him, but wanted him to keep going. You couldn’t give up just yet, it was just getting good. Eddie’s fingers dug into your ass cheeks and you weirdly liked it, the sting of his finger nails digging into your skin. You moaned so loudly that you were sure that you were going to get a noise complaint and honestly that sounded kind of funny to you.

“Look at you,” he smiled. “Taking me so well, babygirl.” His thrusts quickened and you were so close, your vision going hazy being the indicator.

“Eddie,” you whined. “I’m close.” You threw your head back as another moan escaped you and you felt Eddie cum inside you as you reached your orgasm, screaming his name one last time as you did so.

Eddie pulled out of you and reached for his swimsuit bottoms. He pulled them on then helped you with your own swimsuit, pulling your bottoms on for you then having you turn around to let him tie to top for you even though you both knew that it was just going to come off in the inevitable shower you were going to take together.

Eddie helped you out of the pool and was quick to chase you up the stairs, the both of you giggling as you did so. As you got to the top of the stairs, Eddie was quick to grab you and he carried you all the way to his bathroom, your giggles still escaping your mouth as he set you on the floor before turning on the shower. He pulled you in for another bruising kiss while he waited for the water to get hot and he decided that he really could be happy just kissing you for the rest of his life.

[fillinforlater]

Pink Sheets of the Gangbang Queen

Male Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 1759 words

Tags: post-gangbang-unclarity, a fuckton of cum, the biggest creampies you can imagine, sluttiest_woman_ever!Gaeul, riding, reverse cowgirl, mating press, cumming again, surprisingly sweet

TW: nasty, a lot of cum by different people

Credit: @friskyriskywhisky had the idea and wrote most of it, I just expanded it as far as I could. Maybe there will be more Gangbang Queen stuff, but this was basically just a double BFH lol

(A/N: Have fun with this crazy, short piece!)

“I want one more…”

Gaeul lies on her nasty bed, which is not only the size of a New York apartment room but also a lot more comfortable. The fresh evidence of sin is all over the once royal pink bedsheet befitting of a princess, a queen to be more accurate. Her comically large pillow is full of wet fingerprints, there are even hints of Gaeul bending over it because she loves it when men penetrate her from behind and fuck her into the soft thing. The headboard and the walls nearby are all smeared with her own slick and the cum from the dozen of guys who unloaded a week's worth and then some for her, on her, because of her. Who knows how much genetic coding is now dripping down those walls, or the side of her bed or along her thighs.

Either way, Gaeul knows that the pungent creampie of hers only feels this good because at least ten horny men put their spunk deep into her cunt. Be it fat cocks, long ones, small, smelly, oddly shaped—Gaeul takes them all and her insides shape to each accordingly. For the horde of cocks it’s an incredible feeling with a surprising snugness, while Gaeul yearns and shouts (as long as there is no shaft testing her gag reflex) for them to finish quickly and deep. Though a marvelous feeling, she is never satisfied. She needs one more, she doesn’t even care if it’s the tiniest rest or a gigantic, creamy load—all that matters is that he cums inside her.

Gaeul’s once-animated and sex-crazed sexual partners have either left or completely passed out on the floor next to her bed—except lucky you, the only one lying naked next to her. Lucky you, who she now eyes, admiring your features while you're half asleep. She crawls over and gently flips you onto your back, stirring you awake in the process.

In your state of extreme grogginess, you aren't able to tell at first if you're being eaten alive or attacked by a savage animal. Just when your fight or flight response springs into action, a pair of lips press against yours. They instantly calm you down like a mothers embrace after a lucid nightmare. You can't help but smile unconsciously at how gentle it feels. Gaeul’s floral-scented shampoo reassures you who's currently kissing you, her touchy, wet and tender fingers reminding you of the first time she checked out your body…

It was a rainy night in one of the many underground bars in Seoul—the type of bar that makes you raise an eyebrow at first, someone with connections has recommended it, looks suspicious; then you fell into the trap of fun conversations and nice liquor that ultimately led to a selection ceremony. This was the moment you realized why this was not a commonly visited place.

Everyone went silent at her entry. Gaeul, the well-known (at least for most people that regularly visit these exclusive bars) gangbang queen was craving men tonight, many men. She was not picky, in fact, there was only one condition you had to fulfill:

“Three days worth of cum. If you had sex or jerked off during the last three days, you’re out for tonight.”

No one dared to defy her or lie to her. She diligently checked everyone’s balls and was extremely thorough, especially with you, who she gently pushed against a bar stool, hand past your waistband. Your breath hitched, hers too when her slender fingers caressed your balls.

“Tall, horny—and at least ten days of cum.

“I’d love for you to join the after party in my pink bed.”

That’s how Gaeul found you, touched you, lured you in and turned you on, like she does at this moment…

It's been minutes now, with no signs of stopping or letting go from Gaeul, her lips still fully attached to yours just to occasionally back off and peck at it again. The last remnants of a dream that could never match this disappear. They are replaced by memories that slowly creep back and your heart drops. You remember what happened not long ago, right on these pink sheets—don’t lie to yourself, you know it happens every other night.

Those soft lips of hers were satisfying other men not too long ago, fully enveloped around shafts of different shapes and sizes. That tongue of hers glided across the cockhead of multiple partners and made sure that no spot on their balls was left out. She would fill her mouth with as much manly musk and precum as she could before her throat was getting assaulted by who knows how many cocks, endlessly coating the back of it with thick cum and forcing her to gag and cry, which everyone knows is a huge turn on for the gangbang queen.

It’s those lips that form a seal around yours and it’s that mouth you attack lazily with your tongue.

Who are you to complain though? Gaeul is the greatest kisser your lips have ever met. Your obsession with her took control of your life even though you had no chance with her. You're just a nobody when Gaeul is the well-beloved queen. The gangbang queen - for those close enough to be her little circle filled with lust and desire. Yet somehow you saw a chance and took it, even if it means taking sloppy seconds (or thirds? Fifths? Wait, how many guys are here again?).

Your mind snaps back to the present when you feel your cock poking at her entrance. Hang on, did she even—fuck! You shiver in both pleasure and disgust. You're plunged into her sloppy cunt, extremely tight, even after being abused by multiple men (some girthier than the ridiculous sex toys she has in her collection). 

Gaeul’s walls hug your tip first, then slowly adjust to your size, like they have become your personal sexy toy. The pleasure really kicks in when the gangbang queen puts your hands on her hips and adds your name into the mixture of huffs and moans. Her incredibly damp cavern and how slippery her whole crotch is against your own, it displays a reality you don't want to admit: You're fucking Gaeul through the creampie of other men. Using the foreign substance as a sticky wannabe lube as you slowly ramp up your pace, you're thinking with your other head only; that’s not an uncommon occurrence with the gangbang queen around. 

Sex with her has you drunk, dazed, carelessly chasing your own high. You want to be the only one to have your load inside of her cunt. Gaeul yearns for breeding, and the sperm of all the other disgusting men, still unconscious in this room is deemed not enough. At this moment you decide to fuck the creampie out of her and replace it with your own.

You're frantically thrusting in and out of her, she replicates your passion as she rides you. Heaps of old cum get forced out with the assistance of gravity but mainly due to the pump that is your cock and the endless pumping into her cunt. Gaeul switches to a reverse cowgirl position and it's only now that you notice that her ass got absolutely filled as well. 

This should not be a surprise, she is the gangbang queen after all, yet you want to look away. This is exclusively other men's cum leaking out of Gaeul and onto your abs. It feels extremely wrong, fucking filthy and somewhat gross. The eagerness of the girl on your dick makes you forget that though. For a short while, you just admire her back, her small, shapely ass and the way her moans are in perfect harmony with the sound of flesh hitting flesh and cum being squeezed out. 

With your whole cock still buried inside her, bottoming her out, you two clumsily get into a mating press position. Gaeul is the most flexible girl you know, her small frame easily capable of folding and bending into every position you want. This position quickly becomes your favorite, because you don’t have to see her leaking asshole anymore, but you know that she is gaping and the worthless spunk steadily leaves her anal cavity. 

Every time you thrust into her, you see and feel her whole ass and thighs ripple. Shock waves across the smooth, stretched, spotless skin gets sent in all kinds of directions because you dig your hands into it. There's still a disgusting amount of cum defying gravity, defying your forceful pounding into Gaeul, but you are sure that if you just keep on fucking her, and press her whole body into the mattress, the petite gangbang queen will leak out all the rest. Through the lewdest of sounds and a clear lack of stamina, the thought of Gaeul filled with nothing but you pushes you through.

You feel the knot inside you loosen, strings and little last spurts of cum hitting her cervix as your tip is right up against it. Gaeul has her feet right up against your back, her heels pulling you deeper inside her. She's still rutting against you, her clit drawing circles against your crotch enjoying the friction and satisfaction it brings. The art of the orgasm, Gaeul has mastered it. In her scream, you find an infinite sea of bliss. It draws out your orgasm a few more seconds; perfect seconds.

Post-nut clarity kicks in and you try to block out the other people who are regaining consciousness in the room. Witness how ethereal her beauty is under the ceiling light. You want to kiss her. You want to tell her how much you love her. However, the harsh reality kicks in harder than the post-nut clarity as she shifts her gaze away from you and looks at the time. You close your eyes, take a deep breath to cherish just how fucking good her cock-warming cavern is. 

You pull away, unfazed at the mess in front of you at this point. Party time is over and you’re victorious but defeated, a bit deflated even. Why is the girl you’re falling for the wrong type of queen? 

"Hey..." Gaeul reaches out and grabs your forearm and pulls you a little closer to give you one last peck on your cheek. "Drive safely, okay?” Her fingers tiptoe towards your hand until it reaches the back of your it, her thumb gently rubs circles on it. A new level of intimacy that makes your heart stutter. “Message me when you’re back home."

[renku]

Write a smut with a Bini member 😅

Cherry (Not) on Top

BINI Aiah x Male Reader

tags: smut

A/N: Taglish (mix of English and Filipino language) fic incoming, since Aiah is a Filipina. I've been planning this one after the Sana fic and even before this request because of @octoberautumnbox 's piece. I might post another version of this in full english. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy this one. Completely unedited.

~ ~ ~

Past lunchtime, you just arrived at your front door. A mix of light pink and white pair of sneakers were left before your doorstep; there's no doubt, Aiah Arceta—your girlfriend—is inside.

"Aiah? Babe? You here? Where are you?"

"Oh babe, you're already here! Nadito ako sa kwarto," Aiah replied, "just trying an outfit for the Bikini Ball."

"Bikini Ball?"

"Yup, it's a summer and charity event at the same time. All winners will get to choose the community they want to support. Have one in your mind?"

"Hmm... 'di ko alam. May I enter the room first?" you asked, "I want to see you."

Aiah always loved that about you—asking for her permission despite being with her for years. Knowing almost all of her sides, and still chose to stay. Those little things matter to her the most and finds it sexy.

The door opened, and it did not disappoint what it revealed. Floral bikini top, paired with chainmail skirt that covered her intimate area and right leg, exposing the other. She almost gave you a heart attack as you didn't expect to see her wearing that fit. That midriff, well, yeah, it's fucking sexy and turning you by the second.

"I know that look, mister!" Aiah jokingly exclaimed, "Tingin mo pa lang hinuhubaran mo na ko, tss..."

"Can you even blame me? I just got home from work past noon time, not having my lunch yet, tapos ganito makikita ko? I think you're the one having bad intentions here, Ms. Arceta," you confidently remarked, "but I'm not going to complain, though."

"Hmp, pervert!"

"But kidding aside, you're absolutely stunning, babe," you said in a serious tone, "parang gusto tuloy kita bantayan sa event. I can't afford knowing that those men will be preying on my woman, my Queen."

Aiah almost burst into laughter, "You're thinking too much! Calm down, babe!"

"Tell that to my junior down here."

"Oh, so mas nauna pa sya magalit?"

"Don't be so sure, Aiah..."

Aiah came closer to you, placing her palms on your chest sensually rubbing it up and down. "So, Daddy's getting mad at me?" she said, giving a sultry look with her fierce, expressive eyes while both forefingers fidget on your shirt.

"Damn, Aiah..."

Aiah gave a quick kiss on your lips, before going down on her knees. Eyes still locked on you. Aiah took her time to unzip your pants, delighting herself to touch firm muscles you have in your legs, sending chills going up to your spine.

"You're already leaking, daddy..."

A small patch was visible on your briefs, before finding itself on the floor. The look that Aiah has on your cock was turning you on even more, making it twitch. She noticed it but just grinned.

Aiah worked on her magic, as usual. Her tongue started its assault on your balls; licking, slurping both of it with utmost passion and desire, while holding onto your thighs.

"Puta! Fuck, ang sarap! Shit!" you exclaimed, holding her head with your hand as a reflex.

Aiah wasted no time going from your balls to your shaft. Giving the underside a slow lick before reaching your head, parting her lips before wrapping her tongue around it.

Moan after moan, Aiah is skillfully giving her all blowing you. Taking every inch bit by bit, until your entire length is inside her warm, wet mouth.

She's taking all her time, bobbing her head up and down in a growing, steady pace. "Babe, ugh, fuck! Putangina!" you groaned, pleasure meter growing inside you exponentially.

That intense feeling is growing, and you know you're about reach the promised land. But Aiah had other plans.

"A- Aiah? Why did you stop?"

She stood up, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, inching her way towards you ear, "Hindi pwedeng ako lang ang kakain, eat me down there, too, daddy."

She quickly removed the skirt before pulling down her panties, making a trail of her sticky juice before entering the bedroom where she lied down, her hand inviting you.

Getting off from your clothes in a swift motion, you joined Aiah on the bed. Taking a moment to appreciate her beauty, your eyes roamed from her head down to her toes. Perfect. The sweet perfume she got from you last Christmas was the only thing invading your nose at that moment.

Aiah's legs were already spread out, her puffy lips soaking wet. "Ano pang hinihintay mo, babe? Please, 'di na ko makapaghintay, I want you so bad, I want to feel daddy now!"

The Queen should not be kept waiting. Getting into position, your tongue immediately collected her sweet nectar. Tracing every nook and line of her folds, thumb on its way to stimulate her clit. Aiah's mouth agape to the sensation your tongue does to her, even both of you were each other's firsts, she knows no one can do this but you.

"Oh- oh, shit, yes. More. More pa, daddy, please!"

Hearing the words of affirmation made you more fired up. A finger went inside her as you continue to assault her clit with your tongue, lick and sucking it in intervals.

Aiah's body can't stay still, her hands grabbed the sheets but you couldn't care less. You need to make her cum, even she begs you to stop. The finger inside her did its work like a key to a keyhole, hitting all the right spots. You knew she's close.

"Hnnngghhhh! Babe! Malapit na 'ko! Make me cum! Fuck!"

With one last stroke, she squirts; moaning madly while her body's twitching. "Shit, oh my God...," breathing heavily.

"Mas masarap ka, Aiah, pero hindi pa tayo tapos. I wanna fuck you right now."

"Yes, please fuck me. Wreck me, breed me, gawin mo lahat ng gusto mo sa'kin, I want to feel all of you. Please me, daddy!"

Primal instinct took over. You positioned yourself right into her entrance as you pinned her wrists down before giving her a messy kiss, tongues invading each other's mouths like first time before breaking it.

"Papasok na ko, Aiah," you said, her response was just a gentle nod as you pierce her pussy with your cock. Missionary position was her favorite. Aiah finds it romantic yet hot. That's why you always do it for her.

Your hips gets into motion, pounding her still sensitive pussy. "Hmmmm... yes, ang sarap, sige pa. More! More pa, please... Ahh!"

Aiah's sweet yet dirty pleas are all you need to go berserk. Mercilessly drilling her hole, creating lewd sounds. But it didn't matter. What matters is Aiah's face distorted and eyes almost blank due to extreme pleasure. As if it's her soul slowly leaving her body. But the same truth also goes to you, as the pending release earlier is turning now into reality.

"Aiah, ma- malapit na ko. Fuck," barely letting out the words. "Sige lang, don't hold back! Cum for me, daddy!"

"Aiah!"

The last two forceful thrusts marked the end. Ropes and ropes of cum painted Aiah's pussy, milking you out at the same time. Making sure she does every drop before kissing you slowly; it's a kiss expressing the love she has. A message. A promise. She broke the kiss and just maintained eye contact with you.

"I love you," she noted.

"I love you, too. Maraiah Queen Arceta."

[me-and-your-husband]

body ink || e. williams

summary: you tattoo ellie's thigh. it's a bit of a compromising position, and it leads you down an unexpected road. female reader.

warnings: smut!, fingering (e receiving), oral (e receiving), tattoo guns, mentions of a needle, tattoos? finger sucking?? not beta read (i didn't even read tbis through once)

a/n: i've risen from the dead. lets chat, my inbox is open :)

e.williams

Hey! I've gone thru your page and I love your work. Especially your big pieces, they're sick asf. I was wondering if you had any openings for July?

y/ntattoos

hi! i'm glad you like my work, thank you for the kind words! i've got a couple openings in july, when can you come in?

e.williams

I can come in whenever. I'll make time for it if I have to...I don't care when, as long as you're the one doing it haha

y/ntattoos

how does july 13th at 1pm sound?

e.williams

That works!

y/ntattoos

perfect. what are you looking to get done?

e.williams

I was looking to get something kind of floral but not super...soft, yk?

y/ntattoos

so not super feminine? like no roses?

e.williams

Yeah, exactly like that. I don't have a design in mind...I kind of wanted you to design it? I'll pay extra for it I don't mind, but I saw your other designs on your page and liked your style lol

y/ntattoos

okay, tell you what: i'll draw up a couple designs and send them your way before the appointment. sound okay?

e.williams

Yes! Perfect.

y/ntattoos

cool cool. i'll send you the quote once we choose a design. how big were you thinking? and where?

e.williams

I was thinking on my thigh...? I know some artists won't do thighs so if you're uncomfortable w that it's cool!

I was hoping to cover most of my thigh tho

y/ntattoos

haha dw about it. i'm fine with the thigh. trust me, i'm sure i've had weirder requests.

e.williams

Oh yeah? Like what?

y/ntattoos

had a guy a few weeks ago who wanted a full portrait of his grandma on his ass.

e.williams

Oh my goddd. Did you do it?

y/ntattoos

...

$300 is $300...

e.williams

At least I know you're cool with a thigh 😭

y/ntattoos

absolutely. well, i've got some more dms to answer but i'll get to drawing up your design asap. i'll be in touch, thanks ellie :)

e.williams

Sweet. Have a good one :)

ellie walked into your tattoo shop about fifteen minutes early, to which the receptionist told her to take a seat as you were still finishing up with another client. "she shouldn't be too long."

you had reached out to ellie with five or six amazing designs, all of which she loved. she had such a hard time choosing between all of them, but you managed to rework her favourite parts of each design into one. you both finally came up with a tattoo design that she was obsessed with.

ellie half expected you to be a middle-aged woman with black lipstick and face tattoos, maybe even half of your head shaved and the other side bright pink. your page didn't feature any photos of yourself, just your work.

so when you came waltzing out from the studio and into the foyer, ellie thought you were the client.

"hey, your next client is here," jess said, gesturing to ellie in the chair by the entrance scrolling her phone.

"thanks, jess," you said before approaching ellie. "ellie?"

she looked up from her phone at you, completely startled by who was in front of her. a girl about her age, fucking gorgeous. there's no way you could've developed such skill in so little time.

"hi, yes, that's, uh, that's me," she said as she stood, shoving her phone in her pocket.

"nice to finally meet you," you said, holding your hand out for her to shake. her breath hitched slightly as she took yours.

"you too," she mumbled.

"i'll take you back into the studio now, i've just gotta wipe everything down from my last client." you started walking into the back and she followed you.

"cool, cool ," she said nervously.

this wasn't her first tattoo. she knew what it felt like. she wasn't sweating, stuttering, and shaking before she caught a glimpse of you.

her breath caught in her throat when she realized that you'd have to sit between her legs for most of the appointment.

she was so fucked.

she stood awkwardly playing with her fingers as you sanitized the tools and the chair, listening to you hum slightly to the music playing. she could hear the buzz of the tattoo gun from other artists in the space tattooing other clients.

in the back, an older man was tattooing a woman on the back of her knee. that had to hurt. next to them was a older woman tattooing a woman not much older than you two.

"alright, we're all set. i'm just gonna put this up," you said, unfolding one of those old-timey partitions that princesses change behind in the movies. "it's just to give us a bit of privacy, since you're getting tattooed in a bit more of an exposed place, you know?"

"oh yeah, that makes sense. thanks."

"don't thank me," you laughed. "okay, not to be too forward or anything, but if you brought shorts to change into, i'll give you a minute. if not, i'm cool with you just taking your pants off."

ellie laughed nervously, knowing it didn't even cross her mind to bring shorts. "take me out to dinner first, damn," she chuckled, starting to undo her belt buckle.

you pretended to occupy yourself with putting your gloves on and preparing your table as she took her pants and shoes off, leaving her in her black boxers, your mouth watering a little at her toned thighs.

"you can hop up on the chair when you're done. if you can just like, throw one leg over each side— yeah, like that. perfect."

ellie couldn't believe that she was borderline straddling a tattoo chair in her boxers right now. in front of you, especially. fuck.

without much warning, you slid your swivel chair almost between her legs.

"left or right?"

"uh, i write with my right hand, but i can do some things with my left?" she swallowed hard.

you laughed, "are you getting it on your left or right thigh?"

"oh, uh," god, she was an idiot. "left."

"cool. i'm gonna put the stencil on, then you can look in the mirror and see if you like it. 'kay?"

she nodded, watching you peel the film from the stencil, trying her hardest not to tense up when your soft fingers placed the stencil onto her milky skin, sending shivers straight to her centre.

when she looked at it in the mirror, she grinned, rotating her leg around to get a good look. "fuck, that's sick. i'd be content with just the stencil, you know."

you smiled at her through the mirror. "well hopefully you'll like it better once it's actually shaded."

once you had her back in the chair, you began prepping your gun. "okay, i know you've had a tattoo before, i saw that piece on your arm. so you know what to expect, right?"

"yeah. yeah, i'll be fine."

"okay. if you need a break, just let me know, kay? thighs can be sensitive." you switched the gun on.

"will do."

you began the outlining, humming to yourself over the buzz of the gun. she watched your face focused on the lines, keeping a steady hand.

"who did your arm piece?" you said as you wiped the ink away, making brief eye contact with her.

"oh, my ex-girlfriend did it. she bought a cheap tattoo gun when we were teenagers and i was her test subject i guess."

"cute," you said. "i was just curious." you went back to tattooing her thigh.

ex-girlfriend. that piqued your interest. i mean, it was kind of a given based on the fact that she was wearing boxers and looked like the idea of men repulsed her. and the way she took you in when she first saw you. like she was thirsty. and she was so fine, the way you could see her thigh clench and feel it under your fingers making you want to take her right behind that privacy partition.

"my ex let me tat her too. she was brave. let me do an entire leg sleeve my first time."

"oh?"

"yeah. it kind of ended badly though, so she probably regrets it."

ellie sighs, "that's the beauty of being into girls. they fuck you up."

"amen," you said, looking up at her again.

you made small talk as you worked. you found out that she was a university student studying astrophysics, that she works with her dad in the summer as a contractor to make some extra cash, that she teaches guitar throughout the school year, and that she's an artist herself (her media of choice being oil paints). she even told you that she missed work with her dad today specifically to come.

you quite enjoyed how she'd tilt her head back when you shaded some more painful areas, the cords in her neck more prominent and the column of her throat exposed.

four and a half hours later, the tattoo was finished, and you placed the second skin over her tattoo. you gave her all the aftercare instructions, going over the dos and don'ts. she held her breath when you didn't move your hand from her knee until you told her to go look at it in the mirror.

"holy fuck!?"

"...is that a good reaction or a bad reaction?"

"it's fucking amazing! jesus christ, that's so fucking cool. oh my god. you're amazing."

you blushed and thanked her as you watched her check it out in the mirror, inspecting it and gushing over how detailed it was.

she put her pants and shoes back on and you walked her out to reception.

"i've got this one, jess. take a smoke break," you said, smiling at your receptionist. she thanked you and scurried into the back room.

"alright ellie, that's $200."

"what? you quoted me at $350?"

you just smiled and looked at her, leaning forward against the counter. "pretty girl discount."

her face turned red as she took out her wallet and grinned. she counted out the money, laying $200 in cash against the counter.

"you gonna give the next client who walks through that door today a pretty girl discount, or is it just me?"

"actually, you're my last. and for the record, you're the first to get the discount."

she smiled and returned to her wallet, folding up more bills. after you put the money in the register, she leaned forward and tucked a stack of folded bills into the front pocket of your shirt, pulling you in close. "pretty girl tip."

you bit your lip as you looked at her. her eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips, finally deciding on your eyes. "you said i'm your last client, yeah?"

"yeah," you breathed.

"what're you doing after this, then?"

"well, a pretty girl hasn't asked me to go home with her yet, so i guess i'll probably pick up a coffee and—"

"come home with me?" she breathed, leaning in slightly. "please."

you giggled, "like i could say no to that."

tired of her teasing, her breath eternally fanning over your lips, you grabbed her and pulled her into you over the counter. your lips met and she groaned into the kiss, pulling away after a few seconds. she held her car keys up and shook them, "you ready, babe?"

she had you pressed up against the wall as soon as she kicked her door shut behind her, hands all up in your hair, lips bruising against yours. you kissed her back fervently. your hand slid down to her core, feeling the wetness through her boxers and jeans. she whimpered into your open mouth at the feeling.

"fuck, you're so wet, ellie."

"then do something about it," she said, hiding her smirk in your neck as she sucked hickeys into it.

"then take me to your bed."

she led you to her room, closing and locking the door, just in case. you pushed her flannel from her shoulders and undid her belt buckle, undoing the buttons on her jeans and sliding them down her legs, being careful of her thigh. she groaned.

"this doesn't seem fair," she said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and sliding it off. she slid your pants down your legs and threw them onto the floor. "that's better."

she laid on top of you, caging you in, undoing your bra and sucking on your tits, trailing kisses down to your stomach. "fuck, so beautiful," she groaned. 

you pressed your knee gently into her core, "still want me to take care of that?"

"fuck, yeah."

you flipped her over so her ass hung off the edge of the bed and you got on your knees on the carpeted floor. she propped herself up on your elbows, watching your every move.

you began running your finger over her covered core, soaked so good that your finger was covered in her wetness when you took it away, bringing it to your lips.

"please, fuck, i need more, take them off," she said, bucking her hips up.

you hummed, "but i'm enjoying myself, el."

"please, i need you so bad y/n."

"what do you need ellie? tell me."

"i need your fingers, your mouth, anything. i'll do anything. just need you," she begged, shame gone.

"you're lucky you're insanely hot."

you slid her boxers off, watching the strings of slick that connected her pussy to the fabric. you laid your head against the thigh that wasn't freshly tattooed, tracing your finger through her dripping core.

"open up for me, honey," you instructed, gently spreading her thighs further apart.

she let out the most guttural moan when your tongue finally slid through her folds, collecting her juices on your tongue. her hands found your hair and pulled gently, making you moan into her cunt.

you sucked her clit gently, sending waves of pleasure up her spine. when your middle finger slid into her entrance she tried to muffle her moan with the back of her hand, but you yanked it away. "wanna hear you, el. don't do that."

"fuck, you're too good. fuckkk."

"you almost there el? can feel you clenchin' around me," you said, sliding another finger in and returning your mouth to lapping at her folds, paying special attention to her bundle of nerves.

she hummed and nodded fervently. with every thrust in and out, you felt her clench around you, a small white ring forming around the base of your fingers.

"fuck, fuck! i'm gonna— ohhhhh god—!"

you lapped up all of her release that you could, only coming up for air once she had to push your head away from the overstimulation.

you wiped her release from your face with the back of your hand and brought your fingers to her lips, "open."

she grabbed your wrist and obeyed, swirling her tongue around your digits and closing her eyes. "see how good you taste?"

she released them with a 'pop'. "i bet you taste better."

"i seriously doubt that."

"you've been between my legs twice today. i think it's my turn to be between yours. take your panties off."

permanent taglist:

@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

ellie taglist:

@chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz

@pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap @wrendermedone @kissyslut @felsweb

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply <i>her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a <i>little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he <i>knows</i> that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and <i>fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

[artyandink]

magnetism

FBI!AU

Summary: You and Dean Winchester, the best Major Crimes has to offer. You’ve been assigned on the same case, but even though you two maintain a certain level of moral integrity, you can’t help but let that go in the hotel room you’re both staying in. Just one moment can’t hurt, right?

A/N - This is for the Jensen-A-Thon and could also be the prequel for another series I have in mind, might be titled something similar hehe. Stay tuned and let me know if you’re interested!

SERIES MASTERLIST

This was supposed to be professional.

“You goddamn tease.” Dean growled in your ear before nipping the earlobe, his calloused hands smoothing up from your body to reach your chest, grab hold of your blouse and rip it apart, buttons clattering to the floor and eliciting a gasp from you, low chuckle from him. “Workin’ me up all day in that tight skirt and goddamn heels- d’you know what you do to me, darlin’?” You were marked with an array of small and large purpling bruises down your neck and behind your ears as well as his cologne all over you, the musk of coffee and floral washing detergent only adding to the dizzying mix.

Your head was tipped back, as a result of him pulling roughly on your hair to give him the access he wanted. “Dean…”

“Yeah, just like that, baby. Love hearin’ my name from those pretty lips.” He threw your legs apart as wide as they’d go, standing between them and grinding into you so you’d feel him through his slacks, his teeth gritted as he felt the warmth through your dampened panties. Or maybe soaked, he couldn’t tell.

He’d find out soon enough.

He ran his nose along the length of that pretty neck that he now owned, littered with his marks and clouding his better judgement with the perfume you had on, the morning espresso and sweet pheromones that tore his inhibitions piece by piece.

Dean had snapped five minutes earlier, straight lifting you onto the kitchen island, the only brace being the edge of it. From there, you’d felt his lips on yours, hand moving up to rest on your throat, movements hard, demanding, as he grabbed your shin and pulled you closer.

Now he was kissing down the valley of your chest, kneading one in his palm over the fabric of your bra as the other snaked around to undo the clasp. He looked up at you as the bra and torn open blouse fell away, lipstick smeared, hair all messed up and no longer neat, with your skirt bunched up around your waist and showing your clothed pussy, the material covering it soaked.

There was a switch in his brain.

He began kissing every freckle he could reach on your body, his index hooking into the band of your panties, pulling and snapping them against your skin, making you jolt and whine his name. “So damn sensitive.” He chuckled, the words sending vibrations against your skin. “Don’t get touched much on the job, huh?” He slapped your thigh when your only response was a whimper. “Words.”

“No, Dean.” You replied shakily, and Dean bit his lip and groaned, though you didn’t catch the first part as his mouth was hovering above your collarbone. But then he raised his head up to face you, and you saw the extent of what you’d done to him. Hair sticking up in different directions, lips swollen and reddened, neck covered in your lipstick prints, tie no longer there and shirt partway undone. He looked like a wet dream.

He grinned slightly, nudging your nose with his before nipping your bottom lip. “S’what I like to hear.” Then he bent by your ear, removing your panties with a flourish. “Be loud for me, sweetheart. Wanna hear you scream-”

“Hey, you listening? Homicides and organised crime across the States not interestin’ enough for you, princess?” You stopped staring at the wall, the apparently very interesting wall with its boring, cream, floral wallpaper, and your eyes landed on Agent Winchester sitting on the bed, scratching his scruff in irritation, the laptop set on those powerful thighs in the slacks which looked like they were practically painted on. Green eyes set on you, eyebrow quirked, long, thick fingers resting on the keyboard of his laptop. Shirt straining on that broad chest in a way that should be illegal. Ironic because you’re the FBI of all people. Had you not worked together, you’d have straddled him on that bed, unbuttoned your blouse and- “Cause I’m not repeating this once more after this.”

Of course it was your imagination.

“Y-Yeah, go ahead.” You nodded, doing a quick check of yourself. Blouse intact, skirt was firmly ending at your lower thigh as usual, and by your discreet mission to rub your thighs together, you gathered intel that your panties were still on. Albeit soaked through.

You were gonna have to change those before it became a distraction.

Oh, boy, sweet Jesus, holy guacamole, you were in trouble.

But at least you could revisit that daydream at night. And maybe have him finish off the job the next time around.

This was so unprofessional.

I’d appreciate feedback in the forms of comments and reblogs, lovelies! Thanks for reading!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @deans-daydream @lyarr24 @hobby27 @agentmstark @kaya-mohr-blog @mohrkaya-blog

[virescent-v]

except me pt 2

A/N: Another smutty Emily fic! Sorry this one took me like...two months. I have no excuse lmao.

Summary: This is the second part to Except Me which can be read here! Reader goes to Emily's after work and fun ensues ;)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings below the cut!

Warnings: thigh grinding, restraints, anal plugs, mommy kink, praise kink, some slight degradation, strap-ons, squirting (if you squint)

x-x-x

The work day seemed to drag on after your encounter with Emily in her office. You tried to focus on your paperwork, tried to keep your eyes from straying towards her office, but you were struggling. You left work around five, wanting to go home and freshen up before heading towards Emily’s apartment. 

As you finished your shower, where you took extra time to exfoliate, shave, and moisturize, you got a text from your boss that accelerated your heartbeat. 

Emily: Arrive by seven, no later. When you get here, come in and follow the directions on the counter. 

You could already feel the excitement bubbling up at the prospect of what the night was going to bring, so you just liked the text and finished getting ready. You did your makeup a little heavier, smokier around the eyes, a dark red lipstick adorning your lips. You opted for a simple black lace set of undergarments, figuring it wouldn’t be on too long to make a real difference, and a simple white cotton shirt and jeans. 

You left your place with enough time to get to Emily’s slightly before seven, not wanting to start the night off on the wrong foot. When you opened her door, you could hear a slight thumping bass echoing from further in the apartment. Your eyes scanned the main entryway, not seeing Emily. Walking to the counter in the kitchen, you saw a note folded in half with your name on it in Emily’s loopy scrawl and a gift bag beside it. Opening the note, you felt your already fast heart rate speed up even more. 

“Be a good girl for me, angel, and take off everything you’re wearing and put on what I’ve bought for you. Meet me upstairs when you’re ready. Second door on the left.” 

Going through the gift bag, you gasped at the high quality material of the lingerie, the color seemingly black in the low light of the apartment. Bringing the garment fully out of the bag, you saw that it was actually a very dark green, a color that was one of your favorites and went well with your skin tone. The lingerie was more intricate than you originally speculated. The entire set matched completely, from the panties to the bra to the garter. There were multiple criss-crossing lines and a hint of a floral pattern on the main pieces that covered your privates. It was complex, but still sophisticated without being too much. A matching satin robe was also in the bag. 

You got dressed quickly, placing your clothes on the counter folded up. You wouldn’t be needing them for a while. 

You took a deep breath, centering yourself before beginning the climb up the stairs to where Emily was waiting for you. As you got closer to the room, you could smell a light, fragrant smell and see the flickering of the candle light from the hallway. 

With one more deep breath, you walked into the room. 

Your breath immediately caught in your lungs, stuttering out in a rapid staccato beat. 

Emily was lounging in an oversize, plush chair in the corner of her room reading a book. Her hair was down, a slight wave to it from being exposed to the air all day. She, too, had on a satin robe, hiding whatever was underneath. You wondered if her apparel matched yours or differed. To be honest, you weren’t sure you really even cared that much. You’d enjoy taking it off, though. 

But what had you absolutely hypnotized were the glasses that adorned her face, simple in shape, but drawing attention to her beautiful eyes. The frames sat a little lower on the bridge of her nose, having fallen slightly while her head was tilted down reading. 

“You’re staring, pretty girl,” Emily’s voice brought you out of your ogling. 

“You expect me not to? When you look like that?” 

Emily smirked, her eyes flicking over the pages, trying to equalize her attention between you and her book.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m wearing a robe. Nothing much to gawk at.” 

You cleared your throat, your toes scrunching up in the carpet beneath your feet. Breathily, you said, “it’s the glasses.” 

At that, Emily slowly closed her book, her eyes glancing up at you from under the lenses. Her pupils were dark, or so you thought, with the lighting in the room being what it was. She looked….hungry. Like she was assessing you. 

“Is that so?” She placed the book on the table beside the chair. She crossed her legs, putting each of her arms on the arms of the chair. She looked every bit of a woman in charge, a queen on a plush throne. 

You swallowed heavily. The temperature of the room felt like it increased five degrees with the way that Emily was looking at you. You nodded, already not trusting your voice to be steady. 

Emily tilted her head to the side, pulling her glasses off, bringing the temple piece that wrapped around her ear to between her teeth, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips. “Do me a favor and take that robe off. Slowly.” 

A deep inhale through your nose, you reached towards the tie of the robe, dragging it carefully between each finger, feeling the satin heat with each pass. Deliberately, you tugged the tie loose, letting the robe fall gently open. You watched as Emily’s eyes tracked every movement as the robe opened, but still kept most of the lingerie covered. With the tie undone, you drew your hands up the open sides of the robe, thoughtfully brushing your pinkies against your already hardened nipples. You let your head fall back slightly as you pulled the robe down your shoulders lazily, taking your time in exposing each inch of you. As more and more skin came into view, you watched as Emily’s grip tightened on the arm rests of the chair, as if she wanted to reach out and rip the robe from your body. 

You paused for a second, waiting for Emily’s eyes to catch yours before dropping the robe completely. Emily managed to keep eye contact with you for a few seconds after the robe hit the floor, but curiosity got the better of her, her eyes languidly caressing each miniscule part of you. You watched as her eyes traveled each intricate strap of your lingerie, taking in how well it complemented your figure. You watched as she swallowed, her tongue tracing her lower lip before her eyes met yours again. 

“You look absolutely delicious, baby.” 

Emily’s use of pet names were a sure fire way to get you to melt into the perfect headspace for the evening ahead. It made you feel special, looked after, and most importantly, hers. You’ve always enjoyed just the right amount of possessiveness with your partners; a way to finally feel like you belong to someone who will take care of you. 

“Thank you,” you all but whispered. 

Emily took another second to let her eyes travel over your body before beckoning you to her. “Come here,” she said, pointing to the floor in front of her. She placed her glasses on the table beside the chair. 

You walked slowly across the carpet, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. As you neared, Emily uncrossed her legs and gestured to the spot between them. Stopping between her legs, her hands lightly gripped your hips, keeping you in place. 

Emily took a quick breath, her thumbs rubbing circles on the sides of the lingerie, feeling the straps and lace. She looked up at you, which made you feel powerful, like you were controlling the shots. Even though you knew that she was absolutely in control. “Are you sure about this? We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to. We can stop at any time.” 

You smiled briefly, your hand coming up and tilting her chin upwards to get a better look at her. To make sure she heard you when you spoke. “I’m sure. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I want you to do whatever you want to me, Em.” Your thumb caressed her bottom lip, smiling a little when her tongue flicked over it. “But you better believe when you’re done I get my turn.”

Emily let out an almost silent moan, but you caught it. She took a deep breath. “Anything I should know before starting? Anything off the table?” 

You decided she’d been talking enough. The checking in was cute, sweet even, but you were pretty sure your panties were already ruined. You leaned down and kissed her softly. “I’m pretty sure we’re on the same page. I’ll stop you if I’m uncomfortable. Stoplight to check in, red and vanilla are my hard stops. Now touch me before I do it myself.” 

At that, Emily let out an almost animalistic growl. She roughly grabbed your waist, sliding back in the chair and pulling you onto her thigh. What you couldn’t see underneath her robe previously was a silicone grinder, a small oval pad with various bumps and ridges on it that was strapped to her thigh. Emily immediately forced your hips down and back and forth, which made you very aware of how these bumps felt against your clit. 

“Ride me, babygirl.” 

Your hands shot out to Emily’s shoulders as your hips started moving back and forth. You could feel the silicone ridges through your panties, which were already soaked. The feel of the fabric and the texture of the bumpy silicone was already driving you a little crazy. It was causing just enough pressure to rile you up, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to cum just from this. 

Emily sat back, her hands moving towards your knees, rubbing the skin there. “Look at you. You’ve been here less than ten minutes and you’re already desperate to cum.” She caught your wild, wide eyes. “Such a whore for me and I’ve barely touched you.” 

The moan you let out was desperate, echoing how you were already feeling. “Please, Em,” you said, gripping her hair in your hand, tilting her head back so you could meet her lips in a frenzied kiss. Your tongue brushed over hers, tasting the wine she’d had when she got home from work and something that was just Emily. 

She pulled back, a little breathlessly, stopping the frantic movements of your hips. “Off, baby. Take off the lingerie.” 

You were panting, not wanting to stop your movements. But the idea of the silicone rubbing directly against your wet, swollen clit was more than enough to get you to get up. You basically tore the lingerie off, not caring where it ended up on the floor. Before she could even say anything else, you were taking Emily’s robe off, too, wanting to see what she had on underneath it. 

As you slid the robe from her shoulders, your breath caught again. Emily was wearing a matching deep red lace set of bra and panties. You caught her eyes again as your pussy remade contact with the silicone strapped to her strong thigh. “You’re beautiful, you know,” you said, your hands resting lightly on the exposed skin of her chest right above her breasts. 

She smiled lightly, her hands making their way back to your now unclothed body. “You are too, pretty girl. And you’re going to be even more beautiful when you cum for me over and over and over again.” Her hands circled your waist, each hand grabbing at your ass. “Now move.” 

Your hips immediately began a brutal pace, the feeling of the ridges and lumps of the silicone feeling much more intense after taking off your panties. Each movement forward and backward dragged your clit against them, creating the most delicious friction that was rubbing against you in just the right ways. With each movement, you were pushed that much closer to tumbling over the edge, the familiar tightening in your lower belly telling you that you were close.

“Look at you, how you’re dripping for me. You’re already so close.” Emily’s hands traveled up your body, her thumbs brushing across your hardened nipples. As her fingers began pulling on them, she growled out, “now be a good little slut and cum for me, baby.” 

The fact that Emily already knew how to push you closer to cumming, the way she knew how to touch you, the way her voice had deepened, becoming almost gravelly, you couldn’t help but follow her directions. Your head tilted back, your spine arching towards her, as you moaned loudly, “fuck, mommy!”  

You continued to ride Emily’s thigh through your first orgasm, feeling your juices spread over the silicone toy. As you came down from the high, you realized what you said and embarrassingly brought your head back up and looked at Emily. 

Emily’s eyes had dilated to the point where there was no color left in them, her chest heaving with quick breaths. “What did you just call me?” 

Your eyes shifted to the side, not wanting to meet hers. You cleared your throat a little, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. “Mommy.” 

Emily brought her body flush against yours, the lace of her bra brushing against your breasts. Her hand captured your chin, forcing you to look at her. “That’s right, little girl.” Her thumb brushed against your lips, pulling it from between your teeth. “Now you better scream that every single time you cum for me tonight, understood?” 

You took Emily’s thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it briefly before sucking on it. “Yes, mommy.” 

Emily trailed her now slick thumb down the column of your throat, watching as you swallowed with the movement. You watched as it trailed between your breasts, down your belly, before moving towards your hip. Emily took one more glance at you before pulling you harder against her, her hands under your thighs as she lifted you up, your legs immediately coming around her waist. 

She carried you a small distance to the bed, laying you down against it before hovering over you. “Arms up and legs spread, love.” 

You put your arms up and Emily immediately strapped them down to the ties she already had on the bed. She made sure they were tight enough that you couldn’t move much, but not tight enough to hurt you. When she was done with your hands, she grabbed each of your knees and placed them in similar ties. But, she didn’t strap them to the bottom of the bed. Instead, she bent your knees, and tied them to the top of the bed as well. In this position, your knees were almost flush with your chest and your thighs were spread open to an almost uncomfortable stretch. It left you completely and utterly exposed, the cool air of the room spreading goosebumps across your skin. 

“You look so pretty all tied down and spread open for me, baby,” Emily said, kneeling between your spread legs, trailing her hands over your body. 

You could feel yourself flushing under her intense gaze, your breath panting. 

As Emily’s hands made their way down your body, your hips tried to buck up into them, trying to get them to move further down. “Please, Em, touch me,” you whined. 

Emily lowly chuckled, “I am touching you, sweetheart.” Her hands skimmed across your thighs, dangerously close to your aching center. “But if you want something specific, you just have to ask.” 

Your earlier orgasm did nothing to dwindle the heat spreading through your core; you needed desperately to cum again. “Your tongue, your fingers, it doesn’t matter, Emily. Just fuck me,” you breathed out. 

You watched as Emily inhaled deeply, her eyes lazily trailing over your exposed cunt, almost as if deciding how she wanted to take you next. You almost pleaded that she could fuck you over and over if she was undecided, but before you could, Emily’s tongue made contact with your sodden folds and you lost the breath in your lungs. 

You struggled in your ties with each tortuously slow pass of Emily’s tongue over your lower lips. Each pass got closer and closer to both your entrance and your clit, but never made contact. Emily alternated between fast and slow motions, flattening her tongue before rolling it into a point. The constant changing of pace was driving you crazy, it only riled you up without getting you there.  

You could feel your wetness seeping out of you, slowly dripping down your backside and pooling on the sheets beneath. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before and you were sure it was only going to get worse as Emily continued to play with you. 

After what seemed like a tortuous few minutes, Emily’s tongue finally made contact with your swollen nub, zeroing in on the patterns that drove you craziest. Little flicks of her tongue had you gasping, fast circles had you trying to buck your hips even in your confined pose.

Each pass of her tongue pushed you closer and closer to the edge, the coil expanding in your belly ready to burst. You whispered a quiet ‘please, please please’ under your breath, but it caught Emily’s attention, her eyes flicking up to you. 

“Cum all over my mouth, pretty girl, so I can finally fuck you with my cock,” she said, her tongue immediately going back to your clit. Emily brought two fingers up under her chin, thrusting inside of you without any warning. 

That’s all it took for you to come undone, your entire body tensing as wave after wave rushed through you. But you didn’t have an opportunity to come down from your high, as Emily continued to thrust her fingers inside of you. 

“One more for me, baby. Wanna make sure your pretty pussy is nice and ready for me.” 

You almost sobbed in oversensitivity, but Emily switched to pulsating her fingers inside of you, her tongue lightly tracing your outer lips. It was enough delicious friction to keep you from coming down from your last orgasm, but enough to not make it painfully sensitive to where you wanted to stop. 

For the first time sleeping together, Emily was already quickly becoming a master of your body. It only took a few more seconds of Emily’s tongue wrapped around your clit, and a hand tugging at your turgid nipples for you to cum again. 

Emily lazily lapped at you, drinking down everything you had to give. As you caught your breath, you started giggling under your breath. 

Emily’s hands traveled up your body, slowly untying you, massaging your limbs to restore blood flow. “What’s so funny, hm?” She asked, mirth in her eyes.

“If I had known talking about sex would’ve gotten me in this position, I would’ve done it on my first day with the BAU,” you said smiling, trying to catch your breath. 

Emily smirked back at you, placing small kisses all over your body as you calmed down. “If I had known all I had to do to have you in my bed was mention getting laid, I would’ve done it much sooner.” 

You trailed your hand down, gripping Emily’s chin in your hand. Catching her gaze, you quirked an eyebrow in question. 

Emily rolled her eyes at you. “Yes, I’ve wanted you in my bed since you started the team. Can you blame me? Look at you,” she said, her eyes traversing over your skin. 

You felt your body flush in nervous excitement, unbelieving that your very capable, very hot boss harbored the same feelings you did. 

Before you could question her further, Emily sat back on her heels, her hands rubbing soothing circles over your knees. “Are you feeling okay? Do you want to take a break?” 

You smiled, finding it adorable that she was always looking out for you. But it wasn’t necessary. “I was promised to cum on your cock, was I not?” You smirked at her. You had a feeling that the dirty talk was to Emily as the pet names were to you. 

Emily pinched your hip, rolling off of the bed before disappearing into her closet. “Lose the attitude before I come back or I’ll fuck it out of you, angel,” she tossed over her shoulder, missing the way your entire body shivered in anticipation. You hoped this was just the beginning of exploring each other's bodies. 

When Emily came out of the closet, you had to stop yourself from drooling. Attached to her hips was a decently sized cock, a dark purple shade that wasn’t too silly looking. Emily was already a confident person, but something about the added appendage gave her extra swagger. She looked comfortable in it, experienced. You couldn’t wait to see how she took it out on you. 

“Hands and knees, pretty girl.” 

You rolled over without having to be asked twice. It was one of your favorite positions to be fucked in, the depth of which you could feel the fake phallus almost always took your breath away and left you trembling. 

In your admiration of how Emily looked packing, you missed all of the other goodies she was carrying in her hands. You felt the bed dip behind you, Emily’s hands spreading your thighs apart, leaving your pussy exposed to the cool air of the room. 

“You look so pretty like this, waiting for me. You were wet before, but now you’re absolutely dripping down your thighs.” 

A swift smack to the outer aspect of your ass left you bucking into the air, trying to feel Emily’s strap behind you. Her hands massaged the rounded globes of your ass, feeling the muscles beneath her hands quiver. “How do you feel about plugs?” She asked, pulling apart your cheeks to watch the way your entire lower half clenched in anticipation. 

Emily lowly chuckled, “Mh, seems like that’s a yes, but I need verbal consent, baby.” One of her hands drifted down, gathering your abundant wetness, before slicking some back up to your puckered hole, smearing it around the outside. 

Your breath was already coming in fast pants and you could feel the way the blood was rushing south. Your skin felt electric, buzzing, as if every hair was standing straight up in attention. You took a deep, steadying breath, pulling air in through your nose before exhaling slowly through your mouth. “Please, Em, put it inside me and then fuck me,” you breathed. “Wanna be so full of you,” you whined, pushing your hips back at her. 

Emily gripped your hips harder, whimpering at how much that turned her on. How much you turned her on. She grabbed the plug from beside her on the bed, rubbing it between your legs to gather your wetness. You had to stop yourself from thrusting against it, the pressure only minimal on your clit. 

Emily trailed the plug up, watching as you arched your back, exposing more of you to her. She had to take a second to compose herself, not wanting to hurt you. Slowly, she inched the plug inside of you, watching as your body expanded and contracted taking it in. 

Once it was fully inside, you had to take multiple shuddering breaths as Emily rubbed your hips. You’ve used plugs before, but with the way Emily commanded your body, you were at a pleasure you’ve never been at before. 

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” Emily said, bending over and placing small kisses around your ass, letting you adjust to the pressure of it inside you. “I can’t wait to watch and listen to you cum for me.” 

The whine you let out was almost pathetic; you could hear the desperation in your voice. “Please, Em, fuck me now.” Your legs spread a little more, opening you up further. The pleasure was already so intense that your upper body collapsed against the bed. 

You could feel Emily move a little behind you. She trailed the head of the strap along your lower lips, lubricating it with your own wetness, watching you tremble each time it passed over your clit. Emily looked down, the shininess of the cock making her almost whine, before leaning down and spitting on it to further lubricate it. She used her hand to rub up and down, making sure it was well coated before lining it up with your entrance. “Ready, baby?” 

“Fuck me, mommy, now.”

Emily didn’t hesitate, thrusting into you slowly, but with the confidence and force you needed. The cock dragged along your inner walls, but also against the plug that was nestled inside. The pressure was enough to have you clawing at the sheets for some sort of relief, not that you wanted to get away from how good it felt. It was simultaneously everything and not enough. 

Emily, still able to read you like a book, started moving faster, her thrusts shallow, allowing you to feel each ridge and bump of the silicone cock inside of you. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” she moaned. 

There was something about hearing Emily moan, whimper, and whine for you. Her voice had gotten more intense, gravelly, and you wanted it to wrap around you so you could melt into it. 

You started to thrust back against her, wanting it harder and deeper and more. You pushed up onto your hands, feeling the way each thrust made your breasts bounce back and forth. You couldn’t help any of the noises that were tumbling from your lips, your body just sinking into the buzz of pleasure and riding the waves. Again, you could feel the pressure building up inside you, like flames ready to explode. 

Emily’s hand made its way into your hair, grabbing a handful and yanking you upwards. Your back now pressed against her front, you could feel her rapid breathing and hardened nipples at your back, only fueling the fire inside you more. Her thrusts never slowed down, but managed to hit a deeper spot inside you. 

“Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ around my cock, baby.” A few more deep thrusts and you knew you were going to cum hard. 

Not wanting to disappoint Emily, you started to thrust back harder, trying to get her deeper inside you. Knowing you needed a little more, one of her hands traversed down your front, quickly finding your hardened nub and started rubbing fast circles in time with her thrusts. Her other hand went the opposite direction, sliding around your throat, gripping it tightly sending you into another harsh wave of euphoria. 

Emily’s lips made home on the side of your neck, licking and sucking, tasting the salty sweat that had accumulated there. “Be a good girl for mommy and cum for me, now.” 

Your entire body seized, a loud moan spewed from your mouth, continuing with each little drive of Emily’s hips against yours as she fucked you through the orgasm. Unable to hold yourself up, Emily lowered you gently to the bed, her hips slowing to a stop. She smoothed your hair away from your face, her breath coming out in puffs helping to cool you off some. 

Emily went to pull out of you, but the whine of protest left before she was even half way out. “Oh? What’s that, babygirl?” 

You tried to glance back at her, your eyes barely catching before you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I want you to cum inside me, Em.” You wiggled your hips back a little more, moaning as her cock went back inside your pulsating cunt. “Make me cum one more time, please,” you almost begged. 

“Fucking hell,” she whimpered, starting to slowly thrust into you again. Your body had had enough time to settle that you knew you could cum again, but you knew it was going to drain you. 

Laying down like you were, the pressure of both her cock and the plug inside you was even more pronounced. You tried to angle your hips up, tried to lift a leg and bend a knee to switch up the position, but you weren’t sure it was enough. You needed something different. 

Almost as if she was inside your head, Emily pulled out. Before you could protest much, she rolled over and dragged you on top of her. She helped you line up your cunt with her cock, and she moaned at watching you sink back down on it. 

You weren’t sure if you had the energy to do all of the work bouncing up and down, so you rolled your hips back and forth, watching as Emily’s face contorted in pleasure. With each forward roll of your hips, Emily’s eyes almost rolled back, and that’s when you realized part of the cock was inside her and each move you made could be felt inside her as well. 

Knowing Emily had a thing for your dirty mouth, you knew this was your turn to get her off. “Look at me, Em. Look how deep you are inside me.” 

Emily’s blown pupils met yours, her lip caught between her teeth as she tried not to fuck into you, letting you run the show. 

“You look so good under me, Em. I bet you’d look even better if I was the one fucking you.” 

Emily’s nostrils flared, her hands shooting up to grab your hips as her feet planted firmly on the mattress. “Next time.” One of her hands moved to the base of the strap, holding it as you rutted against it. “For now, I want you to cum hard on mommy’s cock like the good little whore you are.” 

You whimpered out a quick, “yes, mommy,” before grinding harder against her. Before you could get too invested in your pace, Emily’s hand that had been holding the cock pressed the button that made the vibrations come to life. 

Your mouth opened wide, your eyes just as big, as you felt the pleasure run through your entire body. 

Emily smirked up at you, almost sadistically, before starting to thrust up at you from below. You could tell that she was just as close as you were, the way her hands were gripping tighter to your hips. Emily’s own hips were moving at almost a break-neck pace, brushing your front wall and clit with each thrust out, and going deeper than before on each thrust in. 

This time, the pressure coiled in your lower belly, expanding outwards to all of your extremities, before coiling its way back into your torso. The vibrations seemed to match your rapid heart beat, as if you could feel each pulsating buzz in every one of your cells. Your head was tossed back, trying not to break as wave after wave brushed through you. 

You only came back to Earth when you felt Emily’s fingers start to rub your clit in time with the vibrations. You glanced down at her, captivated by her look of utter primal need, like you were the only thing that mattered in this moment. 

“Together,” she said. 

Fireworks. Volcanic eruption. The explosion of stars. 

You felt your cunt clamp down on the cock inside of it, Emily trying to continue to fuck you through each swell of pleasure, the pressure finally releasing with a gush of wetness as your body trembled with Emily’s. 

As the euphoria left both of you, you lowered your body to Emily’s trying to quell the tremors that were wreaking havoc on your system. 

Emily’s hands came up, holding you to her, smoothing over your back. Her lips found their way to the side of your face, peppering little kisses on any part of you they could reach. “Such a good girl for me, baby.” She continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you caught your breath. 

“Lets get cleaned up, hm? I’ll run us a bath?” 

You leaned up, catching her eyes. You could see all of the contentment and ecstasy in hers, but also the nervousness. As if you might leave any second. 

You smiled, leaning up to kiss her gently, trying to convey everything you were feeling. That this wasn’t a one time thing for you. That she wasn’t just a one off. “A bath sounds great.” 

Emily smiled back at you, twirling a piece of your hair with her fingers.  Now everyone including her was getting laid around here.